Hardly had Mr. Dunstan's new boat crew followed him ashore when a
whooping yell sounded from up the road that led to the house. Then into
sight dashed a boy mounted on a pony. On they came at a full gallop, the
boy reining up with a jerk when barely six feet from his father.
"Careful, Ted!" warned Mr. Dunstan laughingly. "Don't ride me down.
You're not yet through with your use for a father, you know."
"I was trying to show you, dad, how Sheridan and I are learning our
paces together," replied the youngster. He was a rather slightly built
boy, with clustering yellow hair and gray eyes. He wore a khaki suit and
a sombrero modeled after the Army campaign hat. Even his saddle was of
the Army type, being a miniature McClellan in model.
Tom liked this lad after the first look. There was something
whole-souled about this little fellow with the laughing eyes. And,
though he had been reared in a home of wealth, there was nothing in the
least snobbish in the way he suddenly turned to regard the Motor Boat
Club boys.
"Ted, Captain Halstead and his friend, Dawson," said Mr. Dunstan.
"You'll be glad to know that they've got the 'Meteor' in running order
again."
Ted was careful to dismount before he offered his hand, with graceful
friendliness, to each of the boys.
"You've made dad happy if you've got his boat to running again," laughed
Master Ted.
"And you? Aren't you fond of motor boating?" queried Tom.
"Oh, yes; after a fashion, I suppose," replied the Dunstan hopeful
deliberately. "But then, you see, I'm cut out for a soldier. I'm to go
into the Army, you know, and anything to do with salt water smacks a bit
too much of the Navy."
All of which remarkable declaration Master Ted made as though he
imagined these new acquaintances understood all about his future plans.
"The Army is fond of the Navy, of course," the lad added by way of
explanation. "Yet, to a soldier, the Army is the whole thing."
"Oh, I see," smiled Captain Tom, though in truth he didn't "see" in the
least.
"Yes, Ted's to be a soldier. He's doomed--or destined--to that career,"
nodded Mr. Dunstan good-humoredly. "There's a whole long story to that,
Halstead. Perhaps you and Dawson shall hear the story later. But for now
we'd better get up to the house."
Master Ted evidently took this as a hint that the subject was to be
pursued no further for the present, for he merely said in a very
gracious way:
"Of course, I shall see you again. So now I'll take myself off--with
Sheridan."
Resting his left hand through the bridle and gripping the pony's mane,
Master Ted used his right hand to strike the pony a smart blow over the
rump. As the pony bounded forward the lad made a flying leap into the
saddle. It was such a flying start as almost to startle Tom and Joe.
"He rides like a cowboy," declared Tom admiringly, watching the mounted
youngster out of sight.
"He has need to, I fancy," replied Mr. Dunstan gravely. "That is, since
he's going into the Army, for Ted wouldn't be satisfied with being
anything less than a cavalryman."
As Mr. Dunstan's last words or the tone in which they were uttered
seemed to dismiss the subject, Halstead and his chum knew that they were
not to be further enlightened for the present. They followed their
employer up to the house.
He took them into a roomy, old-fashioned looking library, with heavy
furniture, and, excusing himself, left them. He soon returned to say:
"The family are now at luncheon, all except Master Ted, so I have given
instructions to have luncheon served to us in here presently."
In half an hour the meal was before Mr. Dunstan and the boys. It tasted
rarely good after their hasty snatches of food aboard the boat. When it
was over Mr. Dunstan took a chair on the porch, lighted a cigar and
said:
"I'm going to take it easy for a while. Would you like to look about the
grounds?"
Tom and his chum strolled about. They found it a delightful country
place, covering some forty acres. There was a large stable, a carriage
house and a garage which contained a big touring car. There were
greenhouses, a poultry place and a small power house that supplied
electric light to the buildings and grounds.
"It looks like the place of a man who has enough money, but who doesn't
care about making a big splurge," commented Joe.
"It also looks like the place of an easy-going man," replied Halstead.
"I wonder how a man like Mr. Dunstan came to get the motor-boat craze?"
"Oh, I imagine he likes to live out on this beautiful old island, and
merely keeps the boat as a means of reaching business," suggested
Dawson.
After an hour or more they returned to the house to find Mr. Dunstan
placidly asleep in the same porch chair. So the boys helped themselves
to seats, kept quiet and waited. They were still in doubt as to whether
their employer wanted to use the boat later in the day. Theirs was a
long wait, but at last Mr. Dunstan awoke, glanced at his watch and
looked at the boys.
"Becoming bored?" he smiled.
"Oh, no," Tom assured him, "but I've had hard work to keep from falling
sound asleep."
"Have you seen Master Ted lately?"
"Not since we first met him down by the pier."
"That's a youngster with quite a picturesque future ahead of him, I
imagine," continued Mr. Dunstan. "I call him the luckiest boy alive.
Perhaps he is not quite that, but he is going to be a very rich man if
he follows a certain career."
"It must be an Army career, then," hinted Halstead.
"It is, just that. And I suppose I might as well tell you the story, if
it would interest you any. A lot of people know the story now, so
there's no harm in repeating it."
Their host paused to light a cigar before he resumed:
"Ours used to be a good deal of a military family. In fact, every
generation supplied two or three good soldiers. There were five
Dunstans, all officers, serving in the War of the Revolution. There were
four in the War of 1812, two in the War with Mexico and two in the Civil
War. We gradually fell off a bit, you see, in the numbers we supplied to
the Army. The two who served in the Civil War were uncles of mine. My
father didn't go--wasn't physically fit. There were three of us
brothers, Gregory, Aaron and myself. Both were older than I. Aaron would
have made a fine soldier, but he was always weakly. The fact that he
couldn't wear the uniform almost broke his heart. Yet Aaron had one fine
talent. He knew how to make money almost without trying. In fact, he
died a very rich man.
"Greg, on the other hand, was what I expect you would call the black
sheep of the family. He went to Honduras years ago. He's a planter,
doing fairly well there, I suppose. He's pretty wild, just as he used to
be. He's always getting mixed up in the many revolutions that they have
down in that little republic of Honduras. One of these days I'm afraid
he'll be shot by a file of government soldiers for being mixed up in
some new revolutionary plot.
"My brother Aaron never married. Greg has two daughters, but no sons.
Ted is my only son and Aaron just worshiped the lad as the last of the
race. Aaron wanted Ted to become a soldier and keep the family in the
Army. The youngster was willing enough, but I didn't wholly fancy it.
However, my brother Aaron died a little while ago and I found he had
fixed the matter so that Ted will have to be a soldier."
"How could your brother do that?" asked Tom.
"Why, you see, under the will, brother Greg is let off with one hundred
thousand dollars and I get the same. But there's a proviso in the will
that if, within ninety days from Aaron's death, Ted appears in probate
court with me or other guardian, and there both Ted and myself promise
that he shall be reared for the United States Army, then half a million
dollars is to be paid over to myself or other guardian, in trust for the
boy. The income from that half million is to be used to rear and educate
him. But Ted, as a part of his promise, must make every effort to get
himself appointed a cadet at West Point."
"Some other boy might get the cadetship away from him," suggested Joe
Dawson.
"In case Ted simply can't win a West Point cadetship," replied Mr.
Dunstan, "then, at the age of twenty-one, his promise will oblige him to
enlist in the Army as a private soldier and do all in his power to win
an officer's commission from the ranks."
"Even then, there's a chance to fail," hinted Tom.
"If the lad fails absolutely to get a commission in the Army," responded
Mr. Dunstan, "he will lose a lot of money--that's all. There is another
fund, amounting to two and a half million dollars, that is to be kept at
interest until the young man is thirty. By that time the money, through
compound interest, will be much more than doubled. On Ted's thirtieth
birthday all that huge sum of money is to be turned over to him if he
has won, somehow, a commission as an officer of the Army. If he has
tried, but failed, then the money is to be devoted to various public
purposes.
"But if Ted fails to go into probate court on time, with myself or other
guardian, and have the promise made a matter of record, then he loses
everything. In that case I get the same hundred thousand dollars as
otherwise, but Greg, instead of receiving only a hundred thousand is to
get a cool million dollars."
"Isn't your brother Gregory likely to contest such a will?" asked Tom
thoughtfully.
"The will provides that, if he does contest, he shall lose even his
hundred thousand dollars," Mr. Dunstan replied. "I have had great
lawyers go all over the will, but they can't find a single flaw through
which it can be broken. You see, the will is right in line with what
lawyers call 'public policy.' It's altogether to the public interest to
have the boys of our best old families, as of the best new ones, brought
up with the idea that, they're to give their lives to the service of
their country. So the will is bound to stand against any contest, and if
Greg or myself tried to break it we'd only cheat ourselves out of goodly
sums of money."
"Then Master Ted, of course," pursued Tom, "has been or is going before
the probate court to have the promise recorded."
"To-day is Tuesday," answered Mr. Dunstan. "The ninety days are up next
Monday. On that day there will be a short session of probate court and
Ted and I are going to be on hand."
"Is this the first time probate court has been in session since the will
was read, sir?" asked Halstead.
"Oh, no," replied their employer in his most easy-going tone. "But there
was no hurry and I wanted to give the lawyers plenty of time to consider
the matter. Next Monday, being within the required ninety days, will do
as well as any other time."
"Well, of all the easy-going men!" gasped Tom inwardly. "To think, with
such a big fortune at stake, of dilly-dallying until the very last day
of all!"
"So, you see, Ted really _is_ a very lucky boy," finished Mr. Dunstan.
"I should say he is!" breathed Halstead, his face flushing at the
thought. _He_ would have been happy over a West Point cadetship without
any enormous reward.
"The luckiest boy I ever heard of!" vented Joe, his nerves a-thrill over
this story of one of Fortune's greatest favorites. "No wonder your son,
sir, is so eager about being a soldier."
"Is your brother Gregory in this country now?" asked Tom slowly.
"Not to the best of my knowledge," almost drawled their employer. "The
last I heard of him he was still on his plantation in Honduras, probably
hatching more revolutionary plots and giving the government a good
excuse for sending its soldiers to shoot him one of these days. But I
_do_ know that, for a while, Greg had American lawyers hard at work
trying to find some way to smash Aaron's will. They gave it up, though,
and so did Greg, after hearing from me that Master Ted was wild to
follow a soldier's career."
Both boys were silent for some time. Yet, if they did no talking, their
thoughts very nearly ran riot. To them it seemed that Ted Dunstan's lot
in life lay in all the bright places of glory and fortune. How they
would have relished such a grand chance!
"By the way," said Mr. Dunstan, rising slowly and stretching, "I haven't
seen the youngster in hours. I think I'll locate him and bring him
around here."
He went into the house. Within the next ten minutes two of the men
servants left the house, running hurriedly out of sight in different
directions. At the end of twenty minutes Mr. Dunstan himself appeared,
looking actually worried.
"We can't seem to find Ted anywhere," he confessed uneasily. "The young
man hasn't been seen since he stabled his pony at half-past twelve. I
thought he would lunch with Mrs. Dunstan; she thought he was lunching
with us. We've sent all about the grounds, we've telephoned the
neighbors and the town, and all without avail. The pony is in the stable
and the young man seems to have disappeared."
"Disappeared?" repeated Tom Halstead, springing to his feet, electrified
by the news. "Don't you think it more likely, sir, he's been _helped_ to
disappear?"
"You think he may have been spirited away?" demanded Mr. Dunstan. "But
why?"
"Haven't you yourself told us, sir, that it would be worth some one's
trouble, to the extent of nine hundred thousand dollars, to have the boy
vanish?" asked Tom breathlessly.
"You suspect my brother?"
"Pardon me, sir, for forgetting that Gregory Dunstan is your brother,"
Tom went on whitening. "Yet that talk about disabling the 'Meteor'! The
man who looked like a Spaniard--but the people of Honduras are of
Spanish descent. Why should anyone want to disable the 'Meteor,' unless
to stop a pursuit by water? You yourself have told us that your brother
has a weakness for mixing up in revolutions down in Honduras."
All this Halstead had shot out jerkily, thinking even faster than he
spoke.
"But at this very moment Greg is down in Honduras," objected Mr.
Dunstan.
"Even if he is, wouldn't friends of his, who may want funds for a new
revolution, see how easy it was to get the money through getting Ted out
of the way?" asked Tom quickly. "Grant that your brother is wholly
innocent of any plot about your son. Wouldn't supposed friends of his
perhaps be willing to spirit the boy away, knowing that if the big money
prize went to your brother, Gregory Dunstan could afterwards be
persuaded to throw his fortune into some new revolutionary cause?"
"Yes, yes, it's all possible--horribly possible," admitted Mr. Dunstan,
covering his face with his hands. "And Greg, who is a citizen of
Honduras now, has even had aspirations in the way of becoming president
of Honduras. Halstead, I will admit that I had even thought of the
possibility of some just such attempt as this, and yet in broad daylight
I dismissed it all as idle dreaming. And now Ted's gone--heaven only
knows what has become of him!"
"Of course," put in Joe coolly, "it may turn out that the youngster just
went fishing. He may walk in any moment for his supper."
"But he went without his lunch," retorted Mr. Dunstan. "That was wholly
unlike Ted."
"The 'Meteor' may be disabled now," broke in Tom. "If she isn't, won't
it be more than well worth while to get the craft out and go scouting
through these waters?"
"Yes, yes!" cried Mr. Dunstan. "Come on, boys."
As they raced down through the grounds they espied the coachman
returning.
"Come along, Michael!" shouted Mr. Dunstan. Then, to the boys he
explained:
"If the 'Meteor' is fit to go out, Michael can go along with you. If
there's any fighting he's a heavy-fisted, bull-necked fellow who'd face
a regiment of thieves."
Joe had the key of the engine-room hatchway out in his hand before they
reached the pier. In a jiffy he had the sliding door unlocked, almost
leaping down into the engine room. With swift hands he set the engine in
motion.
"All right here," he reported, while Bouncer, just liberated, frisked
about his master's legs and then whined.
"Keep the bulldog aboard, too, Michael," called Mr. Dunstan, as he
stepped ashore. "Start at once, Captain Halstead. Go as far and wide as
you can and hail any craft you think may have news. Michael, I rely upon
you to use your fists if there's need."
"If there's the chanst!" grinned the Irishman readily.
"I'll run back to the house and get in touch with the police," Mr.
Dunstan shouted back over his shoulder.
Tom sprinted aft along the pier, throwing the stern-line aboard. He
leaped aboard forward with the bowline, not stopping then to coil it.
Not even calling to Joe, whose head was barely six feet away, young
Captain Tom Halstead gave the bridge bellpull a single jerk. As the
response sounded in the engine room alert Joe gave the engine slow speed
ahead. Tom threw the wheel over and the fine boat glided out from her
berth.
Two bells! Full speed ahead! The "Meteor" forged forward, gaining
headway every moment. The hunt for missing Ted Dunstan was started in
earnest.