TO THE RESCUE
“Here! Come back!” cried Cap.
“What for?” demanded Pete, pausing in the darkness, and gazing first
toward the disappearing red light and then toward where his brother
stood.
“You can’t catch an auto, no matter if you are a good base runner,”
replied the older Smith lad. “Come here.”
“That’s right, I guess there isn’t much use running,” admitted Pete
dubiously, as he slowly returned.
“But they’ve got Bill, and we ought to help him. Maybe they’ll hold him
for a ransom.”
“It’s only a joke,” decided Cap. “Come on, we’ve got to use our brains
against these fellows, and maybe we can turn the tables on them. First
we’ll go on to town, and see if any of them really are at the hotel. We
may get a line on them there.”
But there was no trace of any one at the hostelry who might, by any
stretch of the imagination, be considered as of those who had a part in
the kidnapping.
“Back to school,” ordered Cap. “We’ll see if there’s anything doing
there.”
It did not take long to learn that no hazing was going on that night,
and that none of the various school societies were engaged in any
pranks, and when it was made clear that neither Mersfeld nor North had
been out of their rooms, they were absolved from the half-suspicion
that pointed to them.
“But Bill’s gone,” said Pete blankly.
“Yes, and it’s up to us to find him,” decided Cap. “I guess to-morrow—”
“By Jove, to-morrow is the date for the big Freshman game with
Tuckerton!” exclaimed Whistle-Breeches. “You know how they protested
against him. I’ll bet a cookie, without a hole in it, that—”
“Say no more!” burst out Bob Chapin, with a tragic gesture. “The plot
is laid bare! Tuckerton has our hero! On to the rescue!”
But it was too late to do anything that night, though probably had
the college authorities been appealed to they would have permitted
further search. However our friends preferred to work out the problem
themselves.
Meanwhile poor Bill was being rapidly carried away, whither he knew
not. All that he was aware of was that a cloth had been wound around
his head and face to prevent him from seeing or from crying out. Then
he was bundled into an auto, and the car was speeded up.
Bill tried to listen and catch any sounds that might indicate where he
was being taken, but Borden, who wanted to make speed had the muffler
cut out and the only noise the pitcher heard was that made by the
machine.
It was a rough road over which he was being taken, and the car swayed
and pitched from side to side, tossing Bill about. When he first felt
himself grabbed by his unknown assailants he had tried to struggle away
from them, but they had skilfully wound ropes about his legs and arms,
and now, bundled up as he was in one corner of the gasoline vehicle,
he tried in vain to free himself. But the ropes held.
At length, however, lack of air, by reason of the cloth being too
tightly drawn over his head, caused the unlucky lad to give utterance
to a muffled appeal.
“I say, you fellows don’t want me to smother; do you?” he demanded.
“No, of course not,” came the cool answer. “If you’ll promise not to
make a row we’ll take off some of the horse blankets. How about it?”
Bill listened intently. He did not recognize the voice. He was minded
to return a fierce answer, that he would suit himself about calling for
help, but he recalled that in many cases discretion is the better part
of valor. So, rather meekly, he made answer:
“I’ll be good, kind Mr. Highwayman!”
There was a stifled laugh at this.
“Takes it well,” remarked one of his captors in a whisper.
“Yes—but wait,” was the significant comment. “You take off some of the
wrappings. Be careful he doesn’t spot you.”
Bill was soon more comfortable, as far as breathing was concerned, but
his limbs were still cramped from the cords that bound them, and he
was in a most uncomfortable position. He seemed to be reclining in the
tonneau of the car, and some one was in the seat with him. He tried
his best to make out the features, but it was dark, and the half masks
which his captors wore prevented recognition.
Nor did the voices afford any clew, for when those in the auto spoke
it was either in half whispers or in mumbled words so that the tones
were not clear. At first Bill thought it was some of the students from
Westfield who were playing a joke on him, but later he changed this
opinion. He had an idea that it was either Mersfeld, North or some of
their crowd, but the conversation among his captors soon disclosed that
they were not these lads.
“I wonder what they want of me, anyhow,” mused Bill. “It was foolish to
pay any attention to that note. I wish I had looked more carefully at
the writing.”
Yet, as he tried to recall the characters he was sure he had never seen
the hand before.
“It’s a joke, though, sure,” decided the pitcher. “And it’s some young
fellows who have me in tow. Guess I’ll talk and see if they’ll answer.”
He squirmed into an easier position, and fired this question at those
in the auto:
“Where are you taking me?”
“You’ll soon see,” was the reply.
“If I ever find out who you are, I’ll pay you back well for this,” went
on Bill.
“You’re welcome to—if you find out,” was the significant answer.
“I know you!” suddenly exclaimed the captive. “You’re fellows from
Sandrim, trying to get even for us boys taking your boats,” went on
Bill, for, not long before that, the lads from Westfield had carried
a lot of boats from their rival school, and deposited the craft in
the middle of their own campus. “You’re from Sandrim,” declared Bill
positively.
A laugh was his only answer. The auto kept up the speed, and presently
turned from the main road, into a sort of lane.
“Is this the place?” asked the lad who was in the tonneau with Bill.
“A little farther,” answered the one at the wheel. “Look out he doesn’t
slip away from you.”
“Oh, I’ve got him,” was the reply, and a hand took a firmer grip of
Bill’s shoulder.
The car came to a sudden stop. A door of a building which the pitcher
could see was a sort of shack, or hut, was opened, and a shaft of light
came out.
“Is that you—” began a voice.
“Yes, keep quiet!” was the quick retort. “We’ve got him. Help carry him
to the room, and don’t talk.”
Before Bill could prevent it he was again tied up, and some one lifted
him from the car. He was carried along in the darkness, trying in vain
to make out what sort of a place he was in.
Then he was laid, none too gently, on a pile of some rags in a corner
of a dark room. The door was closed and Bill was left alone with his
anxious and gloomy thoughts.
“Potato salad!” he gasped, half aloud, for the rags had been removed
from around his head, “I hope I get away from here in time to play in
the Freshman game to-morrow! It will be fierce if I don’t.”
Bill listened. He could hear the auto puffing away. He was left alone
in the deserted shack—at least he thought he was alone, for he heard
no noise.
* * * * *
Bright and early the next morning Pete and Cap were up, ready to go
to the rescue of their brother. They arranged to cut their lectures
that day, as did also Whistle-Breeches, and, though many more students
wanted to take part in the search, it was thought best not to make too
much of the affair.
“For, whoever has done it will hear about us getting excited about it
and they’ll have more of a laugh on us than ever,” declared Cap. “It’s
a disgrace that we ever let Bill be captured.”
“We couldn’t help it,” was Pete’s opinion. “But we’ll get him back.”
Their first move in the morning was to go to the place where the
kidnapping had occurred. There they saw the marks of some auto wheels,
but, as several cars had passed by in the meanwhile it was impossible
to do any tracing.
“We’ve got to make inquiries,” decided Cap. “We’ll ask along the road,
of farmers and the people we meet.”
They did not have much success for they could not describe the auto,
nor those in it, and many cars had gone over the road.
“It’s my notion that you’re lookin’ fer a needle in the haystack,” was
the opinion of one farmer whom they asked, and when the boys thought of
it, they nearly agreed with him.
“But what will we do at the game if he doesn’t show up?” demanded
Captain Armitage. “It will be fierce to go up against Tuckerton without
Bill in the box.”
“What _can_ we do?” asked Pete hopelessly when a good part of the
morning had gone, and there was no trace of the missing pitcher.
“Go right to Tuckerton, and accuse them!” suggested the irate captain.
“Tell them we know they spirited Bill off, and demand that they produce
him, or we’ll not play.”
“They’d laugh at us,” said Cap. “Call us kindergartners, and all that
sort of thing. No, we can’t crawl that way. But I believe the Tuckerton
fellows _did_ have a hand in the game, and if we can only find out
which of them hired an auto I think we’d have a clew.”
“Maybe one of them owns a car,” suggested Whistle-Breeches. It was a
new thought for the searchers, and it was received joyously.
“By Jinks! That’s the stuff!” cried Cap. “Pete, you get on that trail,
and I’ll inquire at the only garage in town if any of the fellows from
Tuckerton hired a gasoline gig there. I’ll meet you at the cross roads.”
This was a place about half-way between the two schools which were only
a few miles apart.
With Pete went Whistle-Breeches, to help in the inquiry, and Bob Chapin
accompanied Cap. Meanwhile Captain Armitage was in despair, for he had
counted on Bill to win the biggest part of the game, and without him
he was sure his nine would lose. On the other hand there was rejoicing
in the Tuckerton camp, when it was known that Bill was missing, though
only a few of the members of the nine and its supporters, guessed the
cause of his absence.
Noon came, and Bill was still among the missing. Cap had obtained no
news at the town garage, and though Pete had learned that Borden of
Tuckerton, owned a car, he could not locate that youth or his machine.
For the nine had some grounds a distance from the school to practice
before the big game.
“I guess it’s no use,” said Cap despairingly. “It’s a queer sort of a
joke, if that’s what it is, and it looks as if Bill would be out of the
game. You’ll have to play without him, Armitage.”
“Well, I’ll wait until the last minute,” decided the captain. “He may
get away and join us. Lucky it’s on our own grounds. We’ll have that
advantage. Poor Bill. I wonder where he is?”