JUSTICE
"Now then, Bennie," whispered Gus, "beat it on the q.t. Then streak it
for Bill's house. He'll be watching for you. Tell him our man is here
and probably getting ready to light out. You needn't come back; I'm only
going to spot this bird and find out where he goes, if I can. You'll get
well paid for this, kid."
The two boys were lying on the sandy ground among young cedars, and
watching the little cabin not fifty yards distant. Out of this crude
shack had come the sole occupant, to stand and gaze about him for a
minute, lifting his face to the moon. Gus could plainly distinguish the
gray cap, the slender build of the youth; he recognized the walk, a
certain manner of standing, and once he plainly caught that upward shift
of the shoulder. Then Gus gave his orders to Bennie, knowing that they
would be carried out with precision, for the little fellow, almost a
waif and lacking proper influences, would have nearly laid down his life
for Gus after the athlete had very deservedly whipped two town bullies
that were making life miserable for him. Moreover, the youngster wanted
to be like Gus and Bill, in the matter of mentality, and a promise of
reward meant money with which he could buy books.
Left alone, Gus crept nearer the cabin. He could be reasonably sure of
himself, but not of Bennie, who might crack a stick or sneeze. Some low
cedars grew on the slope above the cabin; Gus took advantage of these
and got within about forty feet of the shack. Then he lay watching for
fully an hour, there being no sign of the inmate. But after what had
seemed to Gus almost half the night, out came the suspect, stood a
moment as before and started off; it could be seen that he carried a
small pack and a heavy stick in his hands.
Then Gus was taken by surprise; even his ready intuition failed him. He
had made up his mind that he was in for a long hike to the not too
distant mountains and that over this ground the work of keeping the
other fellow in sight and of keeping out of sight himself was going to
mean constant vigilance and keen stalking. But the midnight prowler
swung around the cabin and with long, certain strides headed straight
for the Hooper mansion.
This was easier going for Gus than the open road toward the mountains
would have been; there was plenty of growth--long grass, trees and
bushes--to keep between him and the other who never tried to seek
shelter, nor hardly once looked behind him until the end of the broad
driveway was reached.
Gus knew the watchman must be about, though possibly half asleep. He
also believed that the suspected youth, by the way he advanced, must
know the ways of the watchman. Roger, the big Saint Bernard, let out a
booming roar and came bounding down the driveway; the fellow spoke to
him and that was all there was to that. Gus stayed well behind, fearing
the friendly beast might come to him also and thus give his presence
away, but Roger was evidently coaxed to remain with the first comer.
The big house stood silent, bathed in the moonlight; there was no sign
of anyone about, other than the miscreant who stood now in the shadow,
surveying the place. Presently he put down his pack, went to a window
and, quick and silent as an expert burglar, jimmied the sash. There was
only one sudden, sharp snap of the breaking sash bolt and in a moment
the fellow had vanished within the darkness and Gus distinguished only
the occasional flash of a pocket torch inside.
There was but one thing to do, and that as quickly as possible. The dog
had gone around to lie again on the front veranda. Gus made a bolt for
the rear of the grounds, reached the garage, found an open door, began
softly to push it open and suddenly found himself staring into the
muzzle of a revolver that protruded from the blackness beyond.
"Don't shoot! I'm Gus Grier, Mr. Watchman." The boy was conscious of a
certain unsteadiness in his own voice.
"Oh! An' phwat air yes doin' here?"
"Talk low," said Gus, "but listen first: There's a burglar in the house.
I spotted him some time ago, followed him and saw him get through the
dining-room window. Move fast and he's yours!"
Pat moved fast. He recognized that he had not been up to his duty so far
and he meant to make amends. With Gus following, the boy's nerves on
edge with the possibility that the housebreaker would shoot, the
Irishman, who was no coward, reached the house, entered the basement,
flooded the house with light, alarmed the inmates and in a few minutes
had every avenue of escape guarded, the chauffeur, butler and gardener
coming on the scene, all half dressed and armed.
What followed needs little telling. Hardly had the men decided to search
the house before the sound of a rapidly approaching motor horn was heard
and from the quickly checked car two men leaped out, the constable and a
deputy from the town--and then Bill Brown! The illuminated house had
stopped their course. The search revealed Thad cowering in a closet, all
the fight gone out of him. Grace and Skeets were not even awakened; Mrs.
Hooper did not leave her room.
As the constable turned a light on the handcuffed prisoner he remarked:
"That's the chap all right. Description fits. He'll bring that five
hundred all right."
"A reward; is it?" said the watchman. "An' don't ye fergit who gits it.
Not me, ner you, Constable, but the bye here." He laid his hand on Gus's
shoulder. The constable laughed:
"Oh, you're slow, Pat. We all know that. The kid and his pal, that young
edition of Edison by the name of Billy Brown, got the thing cinched over
their radio. We didn't know that the description that Willstown sent out
fitted Mr. Hooper's own nephew."
And so with relief, mixed with regret for Mr. Hooper's sake, Gus and
Bill saw a sulky and rebellious Thad vanish into the night and out of
their immediate affairs.