THE COLONEL SPEAKS HIS MIND
At the sound of Colonel Ellison’s familiar voice Norman Redfern,
whittling a piece of wood in the cabin, sprang to his feet and stepped
out on deck.
The sudden appearance of the Colonel was quite the greatest surprise he
had experienced in many a day; and when he saw a half dozen boys, this
was still another.
“See here, Redfern,” thundered Colonel Ellison, with an emphatic wave
of his arm, “what do you think of yourself? Such a miserable piece of
conduct; such a downright, underhanded scheme of paltry revenge is
beyond my comprehension. I could have the law on you!”
“Why--what have I done?” stammered Norman, altogether taken aback by
the sudden attack, and embarrassed by the snickers of the students.
“What have you done--you have the audacity to stand there and calmly
ask me that? Well----” the Colonel brought his right fist down in the
palm of his left hand with a resounding smack, and glanced at the group
of boys, as if to say, “Just listen to that.”
“He’s got his nerve with him, all right,” said Bates, unable to conceal
his pleasure.
If there was any row under way, Bates could be depended upon to help it
along.
“I will tell you, then,” stormed Colonel Ellison. “When you found your
whines and wretched excuses were of no avail----”
“Pardon me, Colonel Ellison, I made no excuses,” interrupted Redfern,
his face flushing.
“Now this is what I call a real interesting conversation,” said Bates.
“What did you do?” went on the Colonel, without heeding these
interruptions. “You induced my ward to join a gang of rascally,
irresponsible boys, who are idling away their time in a miserable
mud-scow. A fine thing for a man of your age to be with such a crowd.”
“Simply awful,” said Bates.
“You are mistaken, Colonel Ellison,” said Redfern, and there was a
certain ring in the ex-tutor’s voice which the Colonel had never heard
in it before.
“Do you have the effrontery to deny it?”
“I’ll bet he will,” came from Bates. “He’s tipping a wink to those
chaps in back.”
Jack Lyons stepped forward.
“I know all about this affair,” he remarked, calmly. “Redfern had
nothing to do with it. He tried to make George go back home, and----”
“I’ve heard that voice before,” exclaimed the angry Colonel. “Boy,
where have I seen you?”
The speaker gazed searchingly at Jack Lyons, whose face was clearly
revealed by the moonlight, and almost instantly added, “Why, you’re the
very boy who was in my house, and--didn’t I see you on the road just a
few minutes ago?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Ah! And you saw fit to change your voice, eh? and actually had the
impudence to tell me you hadn’t even seen a house-boat?”
“Sad, very sad case,” observed Bates.
“I beg pardon, Colonel; I said I hadn’t seen any rascally boys, and
that’s the truth.”
“You are one of the young scamps yourself,” thundered Colonel Ellison.
“I suppose, Redfern, you will even deny that George was on the boat?”
“You ought to know me better than that, sir.”
“He’s losing his nerve,” said Bates.
“Well, just understand, Redfern, that if I ever catch you having
anything more to do with my nephew I shall seek redress through the
law. George will go back with me to-night, and----”
“A mighty good thing for George, too,” remarked the irresponsible Bates.
“I have given orders that you shall never be allowed to enter my
grounds again. Do you understand me?”
“You have done me an injustice in one case, and are repeating it in
another.”
“Injustice? Fiddlesticks! You are a cowardly, underhanded scoundrel.
For all I know, my ward may be hiding inside at this very moment.”
“Wouldn’t surprise me a bit, sir,” said Bates. “I’d search the house
from cellar to garret.”
“Hey, you smart duck,” interposed Jack. “You’re throwing your words
around pretty fast, now aren’t you?”
“What’s that?” demanded Bates. His exasperating grin grew broader; he
stuffed his hands in his pockets and said, “What’s that?” again, in a
much louder and shriller key; and, as Jack made no response, continued,
“Salt water might take some of the freshness out of you--this water is
salt.”
“Is it?” said Jack.
“It is--to reverse your words,” returned Bates.
“If you don’t stop that grin pretty soon,” said Jack, solemnly, “it may
get frozen on your face.”
Bates opened his mouth to make a reply, but Colonel Ellison interposed.
“Enough of this silly bantering,” he said, sternly. “George!” he raised
his voice--“if you are in that boat, I command you to come out!”
“Ah, the plot thickens,” said Bates.
“Redfern, bring that mud-scow further inshore,” went on the Colonel,
sharply.
“George is not on board; my word must be sufficient.”
Colonel Ellison stared at the speaker in unconcealed astonishment.
He had felt a sort of grim triumph in the thought of forcing the
mild-mannered young man to execute his commands. But something of the
spirit of Jack Lyons seemed to have been aroused within Norman Redfern,
and he returned his former employer’s gaze unflinchingly.
“You absolutely defy me, then?” cried the Colonel, furiously.
“Oh, he’s a sly one,” said Bates. “The water’s deep enough here; you
mustn’t let him fool you, sir.”
“And he won’t. Once more, Redfern, will you bring that boat close
ashore?”
“You can come over in the dory.”
“A nice way to talk,” said Bates. “But don’t get in a cranky little
boat like that, sir. Not one of us would think of risking it; you’d be
upset sure--hello! Didn’t I hear a sound inside the boat--listen!”
Sure enough; something had evidently dropped to the floor; then came a
repetition of the sound.
“It’s as certain as you’re knee-high to a grasshopper, there’s some one
inside!” cried Bates, excitedly.
He walked quickly past a tree to the edge of the steep bank, stopping
at a position which afforded a good view into the brightly lighted
cabin.
“See anything?” queried one of the students.
“Kind of,” was the rather non-committal response.
Colonel Ellison stepped hastily forward and paused by the student’s
side.
“Redfern,” he began, sternly, “I----”
Then, without warning, a curious thing happened.
The bank suddenly began to slide away beneath their combined weight.
Bates gave a wild cry of alarm, and scrambled to safety, while Colonel
Ellison, finding himself going down amidst an avalanche of dirt, sticks
and stones, frantically threw his arms above his head. His hands closed
tightly over the tree’s lowest branch, and the next instant the doughty
Colonel was suspended over the water, with the branch slowly dipping
down beneath his weight.
“Help!” he yelled, in an amazingly loud voice, holding to his frail
support with the grip of despair.
“Good land!” cried Bates.
“Much needed,” said another.
“Help! Don’t stand around like a lot of addlepates!” shouted the
Colonel, furiously.
Several feet of the bank, splashing into the water, had sent forth
a succession of rollers. The victim’s dangling legs could find no
support, and each instant, fearful that the branch might break, Colonel
Ellison could only look at the dark, lapping water just below and
anticipate the dreadful moment when he would be immersed.
It was certainly a strange spectacle in the moonlight to see the
usually dignified Colonel dangling from the limb like a fish at the end
of a line; and when the first moment of surprise and alarm had passed,
several very suspicious gurgles came from the students.
Jack Lyons was the first to take action. The second tremendous blow
from the Colonel’s fog-horn voice had scarcely ceased echoing, when,
with a cheery, “Hang on tight, sir,” he jumped into the dory, quickly
untied it, and paddled in Indian fashion toward the victim, whose feet
were now almost touching the water.
“Hurry!” gasped Colonel Ellison, despairingly. “I can’t hold on much
longer.”
“All right, sir!”
The boat glided beneath his feet.
“Be careful,” said Jack. “Steady--don’t let go till I say the word.”
He reached up, bore his weight upon the limb, and the Colonel’s feet
soon rested upon the bottom of the boat.
“Take your time, sir--easy now.”
But the Colonel was in too excited a frame of mind to heed this advice,
and only Jack’s watchfulness and care prevented a catastrophe.
“Rest your hand on my shoulder, sir,” said the boy. “I’ll steady
her--look out!”
For an instant it looked as if the Colonel would upset them both.
Advice and suggestions came in a steady stream from the shore.
“Don’t be afraid, sir; if you fall in, we’ll fish you out,” yelled
Bates, encouragingly.
[Illustration: “HANG ON TIGHT, SIR”]
But Jack’s skilful efforts finally triumphed, and Colonel Ellison was
landed safely on shore.
Perhaps never before had so many conflicting emotions surged through
his brain. He was conscious that he had cut a very sorry figure before
the much despised tutor; and the mirthful chuckles and grinning faces
which the moonlight disclosed added to his feelings of wrath and
mortification. He owed a debt of gratitude to Jack Lyons, yet he could
not force his lips to frame the words which he knew the boy deserved.
While in this very uncomfortable state of mind, there was a crashing
among the underbrush some distance off, and the group saw a slim figure
dashing madly toward them.
“Pierre!” gasped Colonel Ellison.
The chauffeur, who seemed about to hurl himself bodily upon the
foremost, stopped short, breathless and panting, and stared wild-eyed
at the group before him.
“Monsieur the Colonel, Monsieur le Colonel, I had such fear,” he
stammered. “Such fear!” he placed his hand over his heart; “I hear you
cry, ‘Au secours!’ and I run, oh, how I run! Ah, I had such fear--but
you no hurt, eh?”
Pierre’s words came out in a series of jerks, and he stood quite still,
as if the shock yet gripped his heart.
Bates whistled.
“Certainly I am not hurt, Pierre!” exclaimed Colonel Ellison, his tone
indicating a great lack of appreciation for his chauffeur’s solicitude.
“Ah, then I am content, monsieur the Colonel; I had such fear--for why
you----”
“You should never have left the automobile, Pierre,” said the Colonel,
hastily.
“But your voice; it came over ze air like----”
“A steam whistle in distress.”
“And I say, ‘Ze Colonel, he must need me.’”
“Horrible carelessness, anyhow,” said Bates. “I’d give him a piece of
my mind. But, if you please, sir, don’t you think there’s some one
hiding inside that house-boat? You heard a noise yourself. What’s that
over there?”
Norman Redfern was holding up a small object which emitted several
plaintive squeaks and tried to wriggle out of his grasp.
“The pup was on the table, and knocked off a couple of pieces of wood,”
he explained.
“Oh!” exclaimed Bates, sadly disappointed.
“Go right back, Pierre,” commanded Colonel Ellison, with a frown. “Such
a valuable machine should never be left for an instant.”
“Of course it shouldn’t,” remarked Bates.
“Very good, monsieur the Colonel; I go,” said Pierre, bowing. “Ah, but
I had fear! Ma foi, but I no understand why you----”
“That will do, Pierre--go!” thundered Colonel Ellison; and the
chauffeur turned away sadly puzzled.
“When George returns,” remarked the Colonel, grimly, “he will find me
here.”
“And now,” said Bates, “this little party is entirely composed of
pleasant people. Let us introduce each of us to the other; fellows,
step up. Don’t be afraid--light isn’t strong enough to show your faces
very well. Colonel--Ralph Chickers, sometimes known as ‘Chickens’;
Ben Drayton; Tom Allen--he’s only done one sensible thing in his
life--entered Thornton Preparatory School; here’s Sam Wilde, and, last
and least, Ban Twining.”
“Like fun,” came from the owner of that name.
“Of course I do,” said Bates.
Jack Lyons and Joe Preston entered into the jolly spirit of the
students; but Colonel Ellison, like an avenging nemesis, kept aloof,
his tall, gaunt figure moving almost silently up and down the bank,
stopping only now and then to listen intently to any suspicious sounds
which came from the woods.
Bates seemed astonished to learn that Norman Redfern was a graduate of
Ripley.
“H’m,” he sniffed. “I can tell by your voice that you hate to admit it.
Why, we’re kind of looking after a lot of foolish Ripley chaps now.
Guess at this very minute they must be doing the babes in the woods
act. What’s that?”
A voice came floating over the silent air; its tone of anguish and
utter despair made them look at each other in alarm.
“Monsieur the Colonel, monsieur the Colonel, it’s gone!”
“Gone!” cried Colonel Ellison, with a start. “What does the man mean?”
“Looks like another circus coming,” grinned Bates, in delight.
The crashing amidst the underbrush grew louder, and Pierre presently
emerged, waving his arms even more furiously than before, while his
agonized spirit poured itself forth in a series of wails.
“Monsieur the Colonel, he--it--has gone!” he gasped. “Gone!”
“What?” roared the Colonel. “The machine gone?--it can’t be possible!”
“That’s what I say, monsieur the Colonel. I run both ways on ze road,
but I nevaire see him; it’s gone!” and Pierre wrung his hands in
despair.
“Ah, ha!” said Bates.
“Gee whiz!” cried Jack Lyons. “Come ahead, fellows!”
“More excitement, eh?” chimed in Joe, as he followed Jack.
Without a word, Colonel Ellison strode toward the woods; his face wore
a terrible frown, and with one look he completely silenced the unhappy
chauffeur.
Jack Lyons and Joe Preston reached the road with the students.
“Yep,” said Bates. “Not a sign of it. Oh, what a row I feel coming.”
In a moment, Colonel Ellison and Pierre burst out of the wood, the
former almost winded by his unusual exertions.
The pale moonlit road, as far as it could be seen, was deserted. No
sound but the lowing of a cow away off in the distance broke the
silence.
“Gone!” cried the Colonel, in a terrible voice.
“Gone!” echoed Pierre, weakly.
“You stupid jackanapes,” shouted Colonel Ellison, now completely
overcome with wrath. “This is a pretty kettle of fish--a valuable
machine stolen, and we stranded here on a lonely country road, miles
from anywhere--a fine muddle you’ve put us in! How dare you look me in
the face?”
“Oh, monsieur the Colonel.”
“Don’t moo-seer the Colonel me!” roared the angry gentleman, beginning
to pace excitedly up and down.
“It’s terrible,” said Bates, after some moments had elapsed. “You’ll
never see that whizzer again. Fine autos can’t be plucked from trees.”
“Monsieur the Colonel,” pleaded the unhappy chauffeur, “I hear you cry,
‘au secour’; and I say----”
“Silence!” thundered his master. “Redfern is responsible for this. He
shall----”
“What’s that noise?” interrupted Bates, holding up his hand with
the greatest assurance. “Listen, sir! It sounds exactly as if the
house-boat was putting off. Hello; those two chaps belonging to it have
disappeared; that settles it--they are giving you the slip. Bet your
ward is on the old pile of logs, after all, and you’re jolly well left
again, sir.”
A distinct, though faint pulsation had suddenly started up.
“Come with us, sir,” yelled Bates, “and we’ll chase ’em.”
“After the rascals!” roared Colonel Ellison. “Very likely you are
right.”
A group of shadowy figures were soon struggling pell-mell through the
woods, the boys giving their school yells.