GEORGE IS WANTED
“Well, this is a nice state of affairs, isn’t it?” whispered George,
when he had recovered sufficiently from his astonishment to speak.
“Looks as if we had jumped from the frying-pan into the fire.”
“Yes,” remarked Old Bill, “I’ve done lots of work fur them perlice. Ye
see, I always hang out on the river--can’t get away from the smell o’
the water. All the Hollbacks was sailors. Me father’s name was----”
“You told us before,” said George, hastily.
“So I did. Wal, I’ve done fair to middlin’, an’----”
“Going to watch out for this house-boat?” asked George, carelessly.
“Sure as me father’s name was Bill Hollback. It ain’t nuthin’ to me
what they’s done. The perlice says to Bill Hollback, ‘Look out fur a
house-boat,’ an’ I says to the perlice, ‘There she be,’ leastwise if
they don’t up an’ skip afore the perlice git here.”
The water-front of Poughkeepsie presented a variety of picturesque and
interesting sights. The “Lottie” sailed under the railroad bridge, and
the boys greatly admired the immense structure. Then they went by the
ferry slips, where one of the boats was just swinging out, and finally
Old Bill headed out toward a slim, white-hulled yacht anchored near the
opposite shore.
“Belongs to a New York feller,” he explained. “I know the cap’n.”
When the “Lottie” had sailed across the river, and circled around the
handsome yacht, George declined an invitation from the good-natured
mate to “step aboard,” and the skiff began her return voyage.
George was indeed sorry that their prospective trip to meet the
house-boat had been so unexpectedly cut short.
“Bill,” he said, as they stood on the wharf and he handed the old
sailor a two-dollar note, “does this pay you?”
“All fur me?” queried the other, arching his eyebrows in surprise.
“Every cent.”
“Wal, as sure as me father’s name was Bill Hollback and hisn was too,
I’m surprised. Youngsters, I’m a friend of yourn fur life.”
“Good,” laughed George. “Now, Bill, I’m kind of curious about that
house-boat--I’d like to know something about it. May we see you
to-night?”
“You certainly kin. I lives near the wharf; an’ will sartingly be proud
to hev ye come,” and Old Bill named a street and told the boys how to
reach it.
It was about half-past six when the two set out in search of Old
Bill’s house. They easily found the street. It was a narrow, winding
thoroughfare with rickety dwellings and large storehouses. The
surroundings seemed to suggest water, and boats, and Bill Hollbacks.
Crushed between two larger buildings was the old riverman’s home; and
the two found both himself and Bill Junior waiting to receive them.
“Come right in, youngsters,” he said, heartily. “You’re as welcome as
the flowers in May. Fetch chairs, you Bill--that’s it.”
George and Aleck looked about them with interest. The old-fashioned,
dingy room and old-fashioned furniture seemed so apart from the present
age that they would not have been surprised to learn that the long line
of Bill Hollbacks, from the dim and misty past to the present, had
spent their lives within its walls.
“Wal, youngsters, I ain’t got much to tell ye,” said Old Bill,
reflectively.
“Didn’t you see that house-boat, after all?” asked George, carelessly.
“Sartingly did; and with me own eyes. A crowd o’ lively chaps aboard,
too. But it didn’t do no good.”
“How’s that?”
“Wal, some youngster they was lookin’ fur weren’t there.”
“Oh!” said Aleck, also in a very indifferent tone.
Old Bill’s quaint and original views were so entertaining that the boys
stayed much longer than they had intended.
Suddenly a loud, peremptory knock on the door startled them.
“Must be Dexter,” said Old Bill. “He’s the man what called to me from
the wharf this afternoon. Drops in ’most every night fur a cup of
coffee, Dexter does. Open the door, lad.”
A tall, thin man entered. He had an aquiline nose, keen gray eyes, and
an air of authority.
“Hello, Bill,” he said, familiarly. “Company--don’t often happen, eh?
Sit still, lads. How’s the world treating you, Bill?”
“Fair to middlin’. These youngsters was out with me this arternoon in
the ‘Lottie.’ They was kinder curious about that there house-boat, and
dropped in to ask about it.”
Dexter fixed his keen, gray eyes on George Clayton’s face, and a rather
peculiar expression flashed across his own. He leaned forward, and the
boy noted, with sudden apprehension, that the look he received was more
than one of idle curiosity.
“Brown hair, blue eyes, straight features, gray suit, soft hat.”
Dexter, checking off this enumeration on his fingers, paused, and
smiled grimly.
“Stop--stop!” he yelled, an instant later.
George had been thinking quickly, and was already on his feet.
Springing forward, he overturned his chair, reached the front door,
and flung it wide open. Aleck was scarcely a yard behind him.
“Stop--stop!” commanded Dexter, again.
But his words fell upon deaf ears. The two boys pounded along the
pavement, which was almost deserted, and were soon around a corner.
Bill Junior was on their trail. Bill was long of limb and fleet of
foot. The pursuing Dexter was soon left far behind; but Bill Junior
kept close at their heels, unshakable as their own shadows.
“Stop, you fellows, stop!” he panted. “Stop--I want to speak with ye.”
Looking over his shoulder, George saw how near their pursuer was. He
gritted his teeth; his breath was almost spent; one more desperate
effort, and he was obliged to halt.
Panting, George Clayton backed up against a high fence. It was a
deserted locality. Close by, a lone gas lamp cast a pale, flickering
glare on a row of posters; across the way was a line of tenements, deep
in shadow; beyond, were fields. It seemed on the edge of nowhere--a
dismal, forbidding place.
Aleck stopped close by. For several moments, none of the three boys
spoke. A variety of feelings coursed through George Clayton’s breast.
He looked at Bill Junior’s strong, loosely-put-together frame, his big,
bony hands; and gazed at the grinning face with its tousled hair, and
then--
Bill Junior extended his hand.
“You’re a couple o’ smart ones,” he cried. “My, oh, my! An’ pop talkin’
the way he did! Ha, ha--I can’t get over it--ha, ha!” and Bill Junior,
having recovered his breath, immediately lost it again in a paroxysm of
mirth. “Oh, my, oh, my, but ain’t I glad that old Dexter got left! It’s
the richest thing out; an’ pop talkin’ the way he did! Ha, ha!”
“And you mean,” gasped George, scarcely believing his ears, “that you
didn’t come after us to----”
“I’m awful tickled that ye got away--that’s what!” cried Bill Junior,
heartily; “an’ I come after ye to tell ye. Ha, ha, but won’t I jist
laugh at pop an’ old Dexter? Shake--ye’re a couple o’ smart ones.”
“Bill,” remarked George Clayton, with a sigh of relief, “you’re a
regular brick.”
“I should say so,” chimed in Aleck. “Gee, but if I had only known
before I broke the quarter mile record. Do you think Dexter will look
for us?”
“Sure! That fellow would spend a week lookin’ fur an alley cat, if it
got away from him,” said Bill Junior, forcibly.
“Then,” said George, with some alarm, “we’d better get along.”
“I know whar’ the house-boat is, an’ I’m goin’ to tell them fellers to
watch out fur ye.”
The three held a brief consultation, and Bill gave them a bit of advice
which the boys agreed to accept.
“Well,” said George, with a long breath, as Bill’s figure disappeared
around a corner, “did you ever hear of anything to beat it? To think of
running right into the very fellow who was looking for me.”
The two soon reached the river front. The great bridge and hills rising
on the opposite shore formed a pleasing picture; but the street close
at hand, with its pools of water and dismal surroundings, did not.
They struck off briskly, and soon were leaving the city behind.
In about half an hour, they saw a lone, frame house standing back from
the road.
“This must be the deserted building that Bill Junior told us about,”
remarked George, with a laugh. “Nice place for a millionaire boy to
spend the night.”
The house, with its gabled ends and peaked roof, wore a mysterious air
in the moonlight. Over its pillared door vines grew in profusion and
thick masses climbed across the front of the house.
There was no door to impede their progress. In spite of himself, Aleck
found creepy feelings stealing over him. But it would never do to back
out now. With a cheery whistle, he stepped boldly into the hall, then
through a doorway, to find himself in a large room.
But he had no sooner set foot inside than a series of strange sounds
suddenly started up, and, with an exclamation of alarm, he stepped back.
Before Aleck could make another move, an object struck him violently on
the back of the head, sending him against the wall.