IN THE BARN
Their experience in France and the many trips they had taken in all
sorts of conveyances had made the Motor Boys adepts in preparing for a
quick journey. The same applied to Bill Cromley, the miner.
“All I need is about five minutes’ notice,” the old miner boasted. “I
just want to sling a few odds and ends in an old valise I have, see
that I’ve got a little spare cash, and I’m ready to travel to the end
of kingdom come.”
The boys were not quite as rapid as this, but once it had been decided
they were to go to Thunder Mountain and take Bill Cromley with them,
events moved fast.
Several messages were exchanged between them and Tinny Mallison, who
approved of their plan to go to Chicago in Jerry’s auto, and from the
Windy City to take a train to Livingston, Montana.
“I will meet you in Livingston,” Tinny said. “I have a new car. Maybe
it’s not as slick as Mr. Baker’s, but it will do out here. We’ll go in
my auto from Livingston to Thunder Mountain.”
This was the gist of the Westerner’s messages, and in one he added
something that rather caused Jerry and his chums some uneasiness. For
Tinny said:
“Don’t buy any stock in Blue Rock.”
It might have been a message from a broker to his client concerning an
oil well scheme, but the boys knew Mallison referred to the story told
by Bill Cromley.
“Guess Tinny doesn’t believe what Bill said,” Ned remarked.
“Oh, well, don’t say anything,” advised Bob. “We can let the two talk
it out when they meet.”
So, though there was an undercurrent of disappointment on the part of
the boys regarding the story of the treasure chest, it did not much
weigh down their spirits.
Some of their things they sent on ahead to Chicago, and they were in
fine fettle when, one bright morning, they entered Jerry’s serviceable,
if not very fancy car, ready for the start. Good-bys were echoed and
re-echoed.
Then, at the last minute, Professor Snodgrass was discovered to be
missing.
“Where can he be?” exclaimed Jerry, who was at the wheel. “He was here
a minute ago, making notes in one of his books.”
“I’ll see if I can find him,” offered Ned. “He’s probably up in his
room, Jerry, crawling under the bed for a new kind of moth.”
“I’ll come with you,” offered Bob.
“Don’t let Chunky get into the kitchen!” warned Jerry, with a laugh.
“Watch him, Ned!”
“I will!” chuckled Ned.
“Think you’re smart, don’t you?” exclaimed the fat lad indignantly.
“What’s the idea?”
“You might want to stop and eat, and we’re late now,” teased Jerry.
“Snap into it, boys!”
Bob, with an assumed air of patience over the banter to which he had to
submit on account of his enormous appetite, followed Ned on a tour of
investigation to find the missing scientist.
Before they could enter the house, however, there came a call from the
kitchen--the voice of Katie, the maid, crying:
“Let it go! Don’t try to get it! Oh, Mrs. Hopkins! Mrs. Hopkins, this
is terrible!”
“Jerry, something must have happened!” exclaimed his mother, who was
standing near the car, saying a last good-by.
“I’ll see!” offered the tall lad, scrambling out of his seat. He made
a dash for the kitchen, getting there just as Ned and Bob reached it.
They saw Katie standing on a chair, her skirts drawn tightly about her
shoe tops, while, on his knees, poking with the fire shovel under the
ice box, was Professor Snodgrass.
“What is it?” cried Jerry.
The professor turned to face the crowd now looking at him and mildly
said:
“It’s a bug I’m after, that’s all. I came out here to get a drink, and,
saw, crawling on the sink, a very fine specimen of a red ant. It is a
variety for which I have long been searching, so I at once got a lump
of sugar to bait the ant. It crawled on the sugar, but as soon as this
young woman here saw what I was doing she screamed, jumped, hit my
elbow, and the lump of sugar, with the ant on it, was knocked under the
ice box. I am just trying to get it out.”
Jerry, as did the other boys, knew it would be useless to ask the
professor to come away without his ant, so they resigned themselves
with what patience they could summon, while he poked away with the fire
shovel, meanwhile grunting somewhat on account of his cramped position.
“Katie, you shouldn’t have made such a fuss over a little ant,” chided
Mrs. Hopkins.
“I--I thought it was a mouse he was after, and I can’t abide a mouse,”
apologized the maid.
The boys laughed, Uriah Snodgrass paid no attention to them, and
presently he cried:
“I’ve got it!”
He drew out on the shovel the lump of sugar with the ant still on it,
and, uttering an exclamation of satisfaction, the little bald-headed
scientist clapped his specimen into a bottle of cyanide and announced
that he was ready to leave.
“All right,” said Jerry. “Let’s go!”
Once more good-bys were called, and at last the auto containing the
Motor Boys and their scientist friend and Bill Cromley was on the way
to Chicago. Of course this was still a long way from Thunder Mountain,
but the boys were in no special hurry. The gold mine, they knew, would
not run away.
“And that treasure chest has been there so long it must be rusty by
this time,” remarked Bob.
“Gold doesn’t rust,” observed Ned.
“And we aren’t at all sure that we can find it,” added Jerry.
“It isn’t going to be easy,” asserted the old miner. “As I told you,
many have hunted for it and never found it. But I’ll do my best to show
you the spot where the coach went over. I’m glad I got out of going
with that Noddy Nixon,” he added.
“He’ll make trouble for you if he can,” predicted Ned. “He was as mad
as hops because we got you away from him.”
“Let him rage,” chuckled Bill Cromley. “I don’t like his kind. The
more he talked the less I liked him.”
“I guess that’s about all he can do is to get mad,” Bob said.
“Don’t fool yourself, Chunky,” warned Jerry. “Noddy Nixon isn’t the
kind to give up easily. We’ve had trouble with him before, and we may
have again.”
“Do you mean on this trip?” asked the fat lad, as he began fumbling
a mysterious package he had brought with him. At least it seemed
mysterious to his chums, for he had never once let it go out of his
hands and had seemed very anxious about it.
“Yes, even on this trip,” went on Jerry. “I shouldn’t be surprised if
we ran into him somewhere near Blue Rock. But what have you there,
Chunky?” and Jerry pointed to the package.
“Oh, it’s just a few sandwiches I got Katie to put up for me--just
before the professor got his ant from under the ice box,” said Bob,
with a trace of a guilty air. “I thought maybe we’d get hungry before
noon and----”
“Two thoughts for yourself and one for us,” laughed Ned. “Be sure you
give us our share, Bob.”
“You can have some now,” offered the fat lad.
However, his companions were not as hungry as he, and, with a murmur of
apology for what he was doing, the youth opened his bundle and, with a
sigh of satisfaction, began munching.
It was a little while after this that Ned, looking back over the road
they were traveling--an action he had taken several times in the last
half hour--asked, as they topped a rise:
“Who, do you suppose, is in that car?”
“What car?” asked Jerry.
“That one following us.”
“Is there a car following us?” exclaimed Bob, swallowing the last bite
of his sandwich.
“Yes, and has been for the last half hour,” went on Ned. “I don’t
believe it’s just a coincidence.”
“Take a look with the glasses,” suggested Jerry, nodding toward a side
pocket in the auto--a pocket where a pair of powerful field glasses
were carried. Ned adjusted them to his eyes and, standing up while
Jerry slowed down, looked back. He gazed for a moment and then cried:
“It’s them!”
“Who?” demanded Bob and Jerry. Professor Snodgrass was taking but
little interest in what was going on, as he was busy reading a book on
South American beetles. Bill Cromley, though, was all attention.
“Some one on our trail?” demanded the old miner. “Who is it?”
“Noddy Nixon and Jack Pender!” declared Ned. “Take a look!”
He handed the glasses to Jerry, who had stopped the car.
“It’s Noddy all right,” the tall lad said quietly. “And I believe he is
trying to follow us.”
“Let’s give him the slip,” suggested Bob. “You can easily do it, Jerry.
Your car has speed, even if it hasn’t looks.”
“Thanks!” chuckled the tall lad, and when he again let in the clutch he
stepped on the gas to such good purpose that a little later inspection
showed a clear road in the rear. Or at least clear as far as the Nixon
car was concerned. But the bully and his crony were not thus easily to
be shaken off.
Later that afternoon a rain storm came up suddenly. And as they were on
a dirt road Jerry said:
“We’d better stop and put on chains while we can. This road is going to
get pretty slippery soon.”
“Run into that barn over there,” suggested Ned. “It isn’t any
fun putting chains on in the rain on a muddy road. The barn is
open--whoever owns it won’t mind if we go in for a few minutes.”
“Good idea,” was Jerry’s comment.
He drove the auto toward the open door of the big barn. Finding that
there were also open doors at the far end, he ran his car close to
them, so he could go out that way without backing or turning around.
They alighted from the auto and were getting the chains out when a
noise at the door by which they had entered attracted their attention.
Ned looked up.
“Here come Noddy and Pender!” he exclaimed. “They’re hot after us--must
have taken a short cut. What’ll we do?”
“Let’s hide!” suggested Bob. “They haven’t seen us yet, and maybe we
can hear something of their plans.”
“Good idea!” decided Jerry. “To the hay, fellows!”
The three boys and the two men made a scramble for the haymow as Noddy
and Jack drove their machine into the barn.