LARRY’S NARROW ESCAPE
Somehow, instead of being frightened at receiving the ominous message
thrust into his pocket in that mysterious manner, Larry felt a sense of
relief.
“Well, I’m glad they’re at the end of this warning business,” he
remarked to himself. “It was getting annoying. I’d rather do some real
fighting, than all this sparring in the dark. If they’re going to do
something let ’em do it, and not be hinting at it all the time. The
suspense is worse than anything else.”
As Larry hurried toward his home he could not help feeling a little bit
worried lest something had befallen Jimmy. The message seemed to
indicate that the patience of the gang was exhausted, and that they
would now proceed to act.
Consequently Larry felt much relieved when he reached home, and found
his brother and all the others safe. He was tired with his day’s work,
and went to bed early.
As next day was Sunday Larry decided he would take Jimmy for a trip to
Central Park, to see the animals, and find some shady nook where he
could take a rest, and make believe he was back in the country again.
Larry thought that it might also serve a good purpose in foiling any
ideas the gang might have of kidnapping Jimmy on that day. On Sundays
the children generally went for a walk alone, and Larry was afraid that
if they did so on this occasion, advantage might be taken of the chance.
After breakfast Larry proposed the trip to Mary and Jimmy. Mrs. Dexter
agreed to it, saying that if Larry would look after the younger children
she and Lucy would go and visit a friend in Jersey City. Preparations
for the trip were soon made, and Larry, with his brother and sister,
started off, Mrs. Dexter and Lucy taking an opposite direction.
It was very fine in the park. The birds were singing in the trees, the
sky was blue, and the grass was almost as nice as in the meadow in
Campton, Larry thought.
“It’s jest like the country!” exclaimed Jimmy, running, and turning a
somersault on the turf, while Mary gave chase to a gray squirrel that
seemed quite tame, and frisked about on the low branches of a tree.
With the children Larry wandered about in various shady places, now and
then sitting down to rest. There was a large crowd in the park, for the
day was warm.
“Let’s go and see the elephants an’ tigers,” suggested Mary, her eyes
growing big with wonderment in anticipation of the delights of viewing
the wild animals.
“All right,” assented Larry, who, though he would not admit it, had a
keen desire himself to see the beasts.
They amused themselves by throwing peanuts to the elephant, and Jimmy
insisted on giving a share of his to the hippopotamus. The nuts were so
small, and the animal’s mouth so large, that it is doubtful if he even
tasted them.
It was while standing watching the elephants that Larry became conscious
that someone was observing him and the children rather closely. A little
behind him, as he turned, he could see a short, stout man, who seemed to
be much interested in the pachyderms.
Larry was sure this man had been staring at him, but, try as he did, the
young reporter could not remember where he had seen him before. As he
turned back to look once more at the elephants, Larry noticed that the
man’s eyes were turned toward Jimmy, who, in a new suit, was an
attractive-looking little chap.
“I wonder if he’s a kidnapper?” mused Larry, half inclined to laugh at
his foolish fancies. “I must keep watch, and see if he follows us when
we leave.”
Larry gradually drew the children away from the elephant inclosure, and
over to where the monkeys were housed. The reporter watched, but, though
he was sure the man looked after them, and noted where they went, he did
not leave the spot where he was.
Mary and Jimmy found much to amuse them in the house of the primates.
The funny antics of the monkeys kept the crowd in roars of laughter.
Even Larry forgot about keeping his eye on Jimmy, and watched the odd
contortions of the queer, half-human-looking beasts.
Once again, however, he became aware of that strange feeling of being
under observation. Looking around, he saw the same man behind them.
Larry had no doubt now but that the fellow was following them.
“Well, if he thinks that he’s going to kidnap Jimmy right from under my
nose, he’ll find he’s barking up the wrong tree!” exclaimed Larry, as he
put his arm around his brother. “All the same, I guess we’d better get
out of here. Some others of the blue-handed man’s gang may be on the
lookout for us, and I don’t care to have a fight.”
They walked about the park a little while longer, and then, as they were
getting hungry, decided to start for home. When they boarded a car Larry
looked all about to see if he had been followed. There was quite a
throng of people, and the reporter, though he was not quite sure,
thought he saw the man who had stood near him in the elephants’
inclosure, and also in the monkey house. The man, if he was the same
one, was accompanied by a boy about Larry’s age.
“I’m almost sure that lad was Peter Manton,” thought Larry. “There’s
something underhanded about this whole thing. I wish I could find out
what it is, and break up the gang.”
Larry, with the children, reached home before Mrs. Dexter and Lucy
returned. As Mary and Jimmy were hungry, Larry began foraging in the
cupboard to find something to give the youngsters.
As he took the cover off a dish in the pantry, to see what the
receptacle contained, Larry saw a paper in it.
“That don’t look good to eat,” he remarked, as he unfolded it. He gave a
start, as he saw a big blue cross on it, while, in bold characters, was
printed:
_DO NOT THINK WE HAVE FORGOTTEN._
“They’ve been here since we went away this morning,” thought Larry.
“They entered the rooms, and left this note. They must be keeping a
close watch on the house, to know when we all go out, or else they would
not venture to come in.”
That night Larry called on Mr. Newton. He told the reporter all about
the Sunday adventures, including that part about the man, and the
finding of the note.
“Don’t lose your courage,” advised Mr. Newton. “It begins to look now as
if they were only bluffing. Maybe it was all a bluff. Still, don’t be
too careless.”
“Then there’s nothing we can do?” asked Larry, on whom the strain was
beginning to tell.
“No, I think not.”
Rather encouraged by the sensible view Mr. Newton took of it, Larry went
home, and slept soundly—so soundly, in fact, that he did not get up in
time, and was a little late at the office.
“Here’s an assignment for you, Larry,” called Mr. Emberg. “They’re
pulling down a big brick chimney at the old electric light power-station
to-day. Going to loosen the base by dynamite, I understand. I want you
to get a good story of it. I’ll send a photographer with you to get a
picture of it as it topples over.”
Larry was soon on his way to the scene of the demolition, accompanied by
the photographer. The chimney was a very tall one, and was considered
unsafe, as part of the power-house had been destroyed by fire some time
before.
Quite a crowd of persons were on hand to witness the operations, as word
of what was intended had spread through the neighborhood. There were
also several other reporters there, and one or two photographers. Larry
found the foreman in charge of the work, and asked him to explain the
plan, so as to get a good understanding of it when he should write the
story. The foreman went into details about putting a small charge of
dynamite under one corner of the stack.
“The force of dynamite is mainly downward,” he stated. “But we think
there will be enough upward power to the blast to gently tilt the
chimney over to the east, where it will fall without doing any damage.”
“What if it falls the other way, and crashes down on top of those low
buildings?” asked Larry.
“We have it guyed up with ropes to prevent that,” was the answer. “I
guess there’s no danger.”
The preliminary work was almost finished, when a man, carrying a red
flag, came out of a small shanty.
“There goes the dynamite,” said Larry, to the picture man. “Now you’ll
see some fun, I am thinking.”
The foreman made everyone move back out of harm’s way. Most persons were
glad enough to obey the request, but the reporters, including Larry,
said if they had to stay so far back they could see nothing.
“But think of the risk you run,” objected the foreman. “Some of you may
be killed.”
“We’ll take the chance,” replied several. “We want to be close by when
the stack hits the ground, and so do the photographers.”
The foreman interposed no more objections, but ordered the work to go
on.
The reporters were gathered in a little group, and after talking matters
over decided to move toward a small tool shanty, that stood well to the
left of the stack.
“There’ll be no danger then,” agreed Larry.
So the scribes went to the hut. The man with the red flag had placed the
explosive at the bottom of the stack, and, seeing that everything was in
readiness, waved his flag at a signal that he was about to touch off the
fuse. At this sign of danger the crowd pressed farther back.
A thin spiral of smoke arose from the fuse. The man with the red flag
ran off at top speed. From a window of the shanty the whole affair could
be seen.
Suddenly there came a dull, rumbling sound, and the earth shook. Then a
little cloud of bricks, mortar, and dust shot upward. Next the tall
stack, the foundation of which had been weakened, began slowly to tilt
over. As the foreman had desired, it was falling to the left.
Then all at once the stack seemed to hesitate. It appeared to be poised,
like the Leaning Tower of Pisa. Next, as though the direction had been
changed by a giant’s hand, the chimney began falling toward the shanty.
“Those reporters will all be killed!” cried the foreman. “I warned them
of the danger. Come out of that!” he yelled, as if they had a chance to
obey. Swiftly the tower was coming nearer the earth.
Then, as suddenly as before, the direction of the fall was changed. The
chimney, that had been seemingly in one solid piece, broke in the
center.
Down on top of the shack crashed the bricks and mortar. The corner of
the shanty crumpled up like paper, just after most of the reporters had
fled.
Larry, however, was not so fortunate. When the crash came he was in the
far corner of the hut. The breaking and rending of timbers had formed a
sort of archway above his head, and the blows from the bricks had been
somewhat warded off. Larry had a most narrow escape from sudden death.
“Come on out!” called the other reporters to him, as the dust settled.
“I can’t!” cried Larry, faintly.