UNCLE DICK'S BUYER
Miss Hope, who had been wringing her hands, bewildered and hopelessly
at sea, hailed this concrete suggestion with visible relief.
"All right, Sister, I think so, too," she agreed, glad for once not
to have to make the decision. "You're sure you are not cheating
yourself, Mr. Gordon, by paying us twenty thousand dollars?"
Mr. Gordon, who had strolled over to the door leading into the hall,
assured her that he was well-satisfied with his bargain.
"Well, we'll be going," muttered Blosser. "All this comes from trying
to do business with women. You had as good as passed us your word
that you'd sell to us, and see what's happened. However, women don't
know nothing about ethics. Come on, Fluss."
He was too disappointed and angry to notice the slip of his tongue,
but Fluss flushed a brick red.
"Just one minute," said Mr. Richard Gordon, blocking the doorway.
"You don't leave this place until you promise to produce that boy."
Blosser feigned ignorance, but the attempt deceived no one.
"What boy?" he blustered. "You seem bent on stirring up trouble,
Stranger."
"You know very well what boy," retorted Mr. Gordon evenly. "You'll
stir up something more than mere trouble if he isn't brought here
within a few minutes, or information given where we may find him.
Where is Bob Henderson?"
"Here, sir!" a blithe voice announced, and the door leading into a
communicating room was jerked open.
Bob, his clothing a bit the worse for wear, but apparently sound and
whole, stood there, brandishing a stout club.
"Oh, Bob!" Betty's cry quite drowned the exclamation of the aunts,
but Bob had no eye for any one but Blosser and Fluss, who were making
a wild attempt to get past Mr. Gordon.
"Have they bought the farm?" demanded the boy excitedly. "Did they
get my aunts to sign anything for them?"
"I'm your new landlord, Bob," announced Mr. Gordon, patting himself
on the chest. "Don't think you can put me off when the rent comes
due."
"So that's all right," said Bob, with manifest relief. "As for those
two scamps, who nearly choked me, well, let me get at them once."
Whirling his club he charged upon the pair who squealed in terror
and tore past Mr. Gordon, down the hall and out into the yard, Bob in
pursuit. Miss Hope and Miss Charity ran to the windows, and Betty and
her uncle watched from the porch (Betty was going to follow Bob as a
matter of course, but Mr. Gordon held her back) as the boy continued
the chase. Fluss and Blosser presented a ludicrous sight as they ran
heavily, their coats flapping in the wind and their hats jammed low
over their eyes. Bob did not try to catch up with them, but contented
himself with shouting loudly and swishing his heavy club through the
air, while he kept just close enough to their heels to warn them that
it was not safe to slacken speed. In a few minutes the watchers saw
him coming back, walking, a broad grin on his face.
"Good little Marathon, wasn't it?" he called from the road. "Did you
hear me yelling like an Indian? I chased them as far as the boundary
line, and when I saw them they were still running. Gee, Mr. Gordon, I
mean Uncle Dick, you got back from the oil fields just in time."
He came up on the steps and shook hands with Mr. Gordon, and
submitted to a hug from each aunt.
"Have you really bought the farm?" he asked curiously. "Or was that
just a blind?"
Miss Hope and Miss Charity looked anxiously at Mr. Gordon. They had
planned exactly what to do with that twenty thousand dollars.
"We haven't signed an agreement," admitted the successful bidder,
"but the farm is sold, all right. I'll give this check to Miss Hope
now--" he hastily filled out a blank slip from his book--"as an
evidence of good faith. Then I want to hear Bob's tale, and then I
must do a bit of telephoning. And to-morrow morning, good people, I
promise you the surprise of your lives."
Miss Hope glanced at the check he gave her, gasped, and opened her
mouth to speak.
"Sh!" warned Mr. Gordon. "Dear lady, I've set my heart on staging a
little climax; don't spoil it. To-morrow morning at eleven o'clock
we'll have all the explanations. Now, Bob, what happened to you? I
hear you nearly frightened your aunts into hysterics, to say nothing
of Betty, whom I found tearing around Flame City hunting for a
telephone."
Bob was in a fever of curiosity to know about the farm, whether Mr.
Gordon thought there was a good prospect of oil or not, but Uncle
Dick was not the kind of man to have his decisions debated. Bob
wisely concluded to wait with what patience he could until the proper
time. He turned to Betty.
"You know when we separated to hunt for Daisy?" he said. "Well, I
went through the first field all right, but when I was passing those
two old apple trees that have grown together, Fluss and Blosser
jumped out and one of 'em threw a coat over my head so I couldn't
shout. They downed me, and then Fluss stuffed his handkerchief in my
mouth while Blosser tied my hands and feet. Daisy was behind the
tree. I figured out they had come and got her, and I was mighty glad
we had agreed to separate. I don't doubt they would have bound and
gagged you, too, Betty, if you had been with me. They wouldn't stop
at anything.
"They carried me to the barn loft----" Betty jumped a little. "Yes, I
was up there when you were milking. Awfully hot up there in the hay
it was, too. They were hiding near us when we planned to drop the bar
as a signal, and I heard them laughing over that trick half the
night. They slept up there with me--I was nearly dead for a drink of
water--and once during the night Fluss did go down to the pump and
bring me a drink, standing over me with that big club in case I
should cry out when they took out the gag.
"This morning they watched and saw you ride off on Clover. They were
in a panic for fear you would come back with some one before they
could persuade the aunts to sell. I wish you could have seen them
brushing each other off and shining their shoes on a horse blanket.
They wanted to look stylish and as though they had just come from
town instead of sleeping in a hayloft all night."
"They said they had stayed in Flame City over night," said Miss Hope
indignantly. "The idea!"
"They had several," grinned Bob. "I certainly put in an anxious hour
up there after they had gone down the ladder. You see, I didn't know
Betty was going for Uncle Dick, and I didn't know that any one else
would say there was oil on the place. Fluss had a roll of bills as
big as your arm, and I pictured him flashing that and Aunt Hope so
anxious to send me to school that she wouldn't leave a margin for
herself and Aunt Charity to live on. If I had known that Uncle Dick
was coming, I'd have saved myself a heap of worry."
"If I had had to telephone to him, it would have been too late," said
Betty. "I just happened to find him in the post-office; didn't I,
Uncle Dick?"
"I'd just got back from the fields and was after mail," Mr. Gordon
explained. "I meant to stop and get directions from the Watterbys how
to find the Saunders farm. Well, as it happened, everything was
planned for the best."
"How did you get down from the loft, Bob?" Betty asked curiously.
"Cut the string that tied my wrists on a rusty scythe I found as I
was crawling over the floor," said Bob. "Then, of course, I could
pull out that nasty gag and untie my feet. I was a bit stiff at
first, and I guess I fell down the hayloft ladder, but I was in such
a hurry I'm not sure. The sharpers had left their club, and I brought
that along for good luck. And, Aunt Hope, I'm starving to death!"
"Bless your heart, of course you are!" And Miss Hope hurried out to
the kitchen, tucking Mr. Gordon's check into her apron pocket as she
went. "I'll stir up some waffles, I think," she murmured, reaching
for the egg bowl.
Mr. Gordon would not stay for dinner, for he was anxious, he said, to
get to a telephone. He would spend the night with the Watterbys and
be back the next morning with "an important some one."
"I'm so excited I can't walk straight," declared Betty, skipping
between table and stove in an effort to help Aunt Hope with the
dinner. "Goodness, it seems forever till to-morrow morning!"
Miss Hope and Miss Charity went about the rest of the day in a daze,
and Bob and Betty, who could not settle down to any task, went out to
the barn and enacted the scene of Bob's imprisonment all over again.
They were up at daybreak the next morning, and Miss Hope insisted on
dusting and sweeping the whole house, though, as Bob said, it was
hardly likely that their visitors would insist on seeing the attic.
"It isn't the house Mr. Gordon is interested in," the boy maintained
sagaciously. "There's oil here, Aunt Hope," and this time Miss Hope
did not contradict him.
At ten minutes to eleven Mr. Gordon drove up with a small,
sandy-haired man who wore large horn-rimmed spectacles. He was
introduced to Miss Hope and her sister as Mr. Lindley Vernet, and
then the four went into the parlor and closed the door.
"Children not wanted," said Mr. Gordon, grinning over his shoulder at
Bob and Betty, left sitting on the porch.
"Children!" snorted Betty, shaking an indignant fist in pretended
anger. "If it hadn't been for us, or rather for you, Bob, this farm
would have been sold for next to nothing."
"If it hadn't been for you, you mean," retorted Bob. "Who was it went
and brought back Uncle Dick? I might have shouted myself hoarse, but
those rascals would have beaten me somehow. Do you suppose this Mr.
Vernet is going to buy the place?"
"I think he is the head of Uncle Dick's firm," said Betty cautiously.
"At least I've heard him speak of a Lindley Vernet. But I thought
Uncle Dick offered a lot of money, didn't you, Bob? How many acres
are there?"
"Ninety," announced Bob briefly. "What's that? The door opened, so
they must be through. No, it's only Aunt Charity."
But such a transformed Miss Charity! Her gentle dark eyes were
shining, her cheeks were faintly pink, and she smiled at Betty and
Bob as though something wonderful had happened.
"I came out to tell you," she said mysteriously, sitting down on the
top step between them and putting an arm around each. "The farm is
sold, my darlings. Can you guess for how much?"
"More than twenty thousand?" asked Betty. "Oh--twenty-five?"
"Thirty?" hazarded Bob, seeing that Betty had not guessed it.
Miss Charity laughed excitedly and hugged them with all her frail
strength.
"Mr. Vernet is going to pay us ninety thousand dollars!"