"I certainly do. It's this way," went on the reporter, lowering his
voice. "A Black Hand letter demanding money was received last week by
Tommy Spanelli, of the Italian restaurant. It was mailed here; and we
have the tip that last evening two foreigners were seen stealing across
the old quarry turnpike, and into the woods, as though not wishing to be
seen. Of course they may not be connected with this at all, but again
they may; and I was put on the job to find out. The difficulty is that I
am too well known. If they caught sight of me, they would be suspicious
immediately.
"But they would never suspect a lad like you," West proceeded; "and I
know you could carry anything through that came along. So will you run
out there and investigate for me?"
"Why, certainly. But just what shall I do?" Jack asked.
"Wheel up and down the quarry turnpike for an hour or so, then, if you
have seen no one, beat around through the woods as far as the old stone
quarry. And any foreigners you come upon, take a good look at. That's
all. And drop in at the office here in the morning, and report."
"That's easy. All right," agreed Jack readily.
"Thank you. And keep the matter quiet, you know," West added. "We want an
exclusive story for the 'Star' if anything comes of it."
"I understand. And, say," said Jack as he turned away, "I'll take my
camera, too. I may be able to get a snap of them, if I see anyone."
"Good idea. A picture would help to land them, if they are the fellows we
want; and we could run it in the paper with our story. Go ahead, Jack,
and good luck."
Jack was not long in wheeling home and securing his folding Brownie; and
a half hour later found him pedalling slowly along the quarry road near
the point several miles from the city where the suspicious foreigners had
been seen to enter the woods.
An hour passed, however, and he had seen no doubtful characters, and
finally dismounting at the entrance to a path he knew to lead toward the
old stone quarry, Jack concealed his wheel in a thicket, and set off to
make an investigation in that direction.
A moment after he came to a halt with a sharp exclamation. In the path at
his feet lay a murderous-looking stiletto. Picking it up, he examined it.
Yes; it was of foreign make. And the still damp mud stains on the side of
the blade which had lain uppermost showed it had been but recently
dropped.
Apprehensively Jack cast a glance about him, almost immediately to utter
a second suppressed exclamation. Emerging from the woods on the opposite
side of the road was a short, dark man--undoubtedly an Italian.
With beating heart Jack watched him. Was he one of the men he was looking
for?
In the middle of the road the stranger halted, looked sharply to right
and left, and came quickly forward. Darting from the path Jack threw
himself on the ground behind a bush, and the next moment the man
hurriedly passed him. He was soon out of sight, and rising, Jack placed
the dagger carefully in an inside pocket, and determinedly set off after.
Half a mile he followed the Italian amid the trees. Then there appeared
the light of an opening, and going forward more carefully, Jack found
himself on the edge of the quarry clearing. The foreigner was hurrying
along the brink of the excavation, evidently heading for a small
tumble-down cabin at its farther end.
The man reached the shanty, and knocked. To Jack's surprise the door was
opened by a negro.
Wonder at this was quickly forgotten, however, for as the door closed
from the woods behind Jack came the sound of voices, then an ejaculation
in Italian. A moment Jack stood, in consternation, believing he had been
seen. But a glance showed that the owners of the voices were yet out of
sight beyond a rise, and recalling his wits, Jack ran for a nearby clump
of elders.
The voices came quickly nearer. Suddenly then, for the first time Jack
recalled the camera. At once came the suggestion to get a snap of the
newcomers as they stepped into the clearing.
Jack glanced about him. A short distance away, and but a few feet from
the path, was a low, tent-like spruce. With instant decision he made for
it, drawing the camera from his pocket as he ran.
Dropping to his knees, he wormed his way beneath the tree, and through to
the opposite side. Finding an aperture commanding the exit of the path,
he opened and focused the camera upon it. The next moment the two
Italians appeared. For the fraction of a second Jack hesitated, fearing
the click of the shutter might betray him. But he took the chance, there
was a crisp, low click--and he had them, and they had passed on.
Chuckling with delight, Jack crept forth. What next? Looking toward the
shanty, he again saw the door opened by the negro. This decided him.
Replacing the camera in his pocket, he set off on a circuit through the
trees that would bring him back to the clearing immediately opposite the
shanty, determined if possible to reach it, and learn what was going on
inside.
Without incident he made the point desired, and gazing from the cover of
a bush, discovered with satisfaction that the two hundred yards
separating him from his goal was dotted with small bushy spruce. More
important still, on that side of the cabin were no windows.
Stooping, Jack was about to steal forth, when he paused with a new idea.
It came from a stray piece of wrapping-paper lying on the ground before
him.
Why couldn't he conceal the camera in this paper, with a string tied to
the shutter; approach the house, knock, ask some question, and secretly
snap whoever opened the door?
To think was to decide, and at once he set about preparations. Finding
some cord in a pocket, he first deadened the click of the shutter with a
thread of the string, and secured a piece of it to the shutter trigger.
Carefully then he wrapped the camera, open, in the paper, and with his
knife cut a small hole opposite the lens, and a second and smaller hole
beneath. Through the latter he fished out the trigger-string--and the
detective camera was complete.
Without delay Jack adjusted the parcel under his arm, holding the
trigger-string in his fingers, and strode boldly forward toward the
shanty. He reached it, approached the door, and knocked. From within came
the sound of voices, then a heavy step. Drawing the string taut Jack
moved back several paces, and pointed the opening in the package at the
door.
But success was not to come too easily. The latch lifted, and the door
opened only a few inches, barely showing the eyes and flat nose of the
negro.
"W'at yo' want?" he demanded.
"Would you please tell me the way out to the road?" said Jack steadily.
The negro regarded him sharply a moment, then opening the door barely
sufficient to reach out a hand, pointed toward the woods, and said
gruffly, "Yo' see dat broke tree? Right out dah."
"Which one? I see two," declared Jack, coolly.
Impatiently the negro threw the door wide, stepped out, and pointed
again. In an instant Jack had pulled the string, and from the parcel had
come a soft "thugk!" "Thank you, sir," said Jack, turning away, and
inwardly chuckling at the double meaning of the words. "Thank you."
"But look aheah, boy," added the colored man threateningly, "doan yo' be
prowlin' roun' heah! Un'stan'?"
"No fear. I'll be glad when I'm away," responded Jack, again secretly
laughing, and headed for the woods, the negro watching him until he was
half way across the clearing.
Once more in the shelter of the trees, Jack determined to follow up his
success by endeavoring to discover just what was taking place at the
cabin. Hiding the camera in a convenient brush-heap, he made sure all was
quiet, and again stole forth. Slipping quickly from shrub to shrub, he
safely made the crossing, and came to a halt at the rear of the shanty.
To his ears came the sound of voices in subdued discussion. They were so
muffled, however, that he could distinguish nothing, and recalling a
partly open window at the front, he went forward to the corner, peered
cautiously about, and tiptoed to within a few feet of it.
At once the voices came to him plainly.
"You gotta dat?"
"Stan' in doo'way, hat in yo' han', upside down," responded the colored
man's gruff voice.
Wondering, Jack drew nearer.
"At halfa da past two by da beeg clock," continued the first speaker.
There was a pause, and the negro repeated, "At half pas' two by dah city
clock, shahp."
Suddenly it came to Jack. At the dictation of the Italian, the negro was
writing a "Black Hand" letter--ordering one of their victims to display
some signal to show that the demand for money would be complied with!
The Italian's next sentence left no further doubt. "If you no giva da
sign, you deada man by seex clock."
At the words, and the fierceness with which they were uttered, Jack felt
a chill run up his spine. Had he followed his immediate impulse he would
have fled. But determining to learn if possible who the letter was for,
he waited.
"What numbah?" asked the negro.
"Feefity-nine Main."
The Italian restaurant! Another letter to Spanelli! The men he was after!
Jack waited to hear no more, but tiptoeing back about the corner, was off
for the woods, jubilant at his success.
Indeed Jack was over jubilant--so jubilant that he forgot the necessity
of caution, made a short cut across an open space in full view of the
shanty, and half way was brought to a sudden realization of his mistake
by the creak of an opening door. In consternation he at once saw he could
not reach cover before being seen, and also that did he run, the
Black-Handers would understand they had been discovered.
With quick presence of mind he recognized and instantly did the one thing
possible. Turning, he headed back boldly for the cabin. The next instant
the three Italians came into view, immediately discovered him, and
halted. Secretly trembling, but with a cool front, Jack approached them
as they stood, excitedly whispering.
"Would you kindly tell me the time?" he asked.
The three men exchanged glances, then, as at a signal, stepped forward
and surrounded him. "Now, whata you want?" demanded one of them sharply,
thrusting his dark face close to Jack's. Before Jack could repeat his
question the shanty door opened and the negro appeared. Exclaiming
angrily, he ran toward them.
"W'at he want? W'at he want now?" he demanded.
"He say, whata da time," repeated one of the Italians.
"W'at de time? He am a spy! A spy!" cried the negro. "In de house with
him!" Jack sprang back, and turned to run. With a rush the negro and one
of the foreigners were upon him, and despite his terrified struggles he
was dragged bodily into the shanty. There they flung him heavily into a
chair, and gathered menacingly about him.
"Now boy, w'at yo' spyin' roun' heah fo'? Eh?" demanded the negro
fiercely.
Instinctively Jack opened his lips to deny the charge, but closed them,
and remained in dogged silence. Despite his peril, he felt he could not
tell a deliberate falsehood. The negro repeated the question.
"I simply asked them the time," said Jack evasively.
With a snarl one of the foreigners caught him by the shoulders and yanked
him upright. "Tie heem!" he directed, and roughly two of the others drew
Jack's hands behind him, and bound them with a cord. As one of the
Italians then proceeded to tie a handkerchief about his ankles, Jack
barely suppressed a cry of fright. But grimly he clenched his teeth, and
not a sound escaped him as the negro then caught him up, carried him
across the room, kicked open a door, and threw him upon the floor within.
For a few minutes Jack lay dazed, then turning on his side, he looked
about him. By the dim light of a dusty window he saw he was in a small,
roughly furnished bedroom. Before he had taken in further particulars,
however, a sound of heated discussion in the outer room drew his
attention.
"No, no! We can't taka da chance!" came the voice of one of the Italians.
"Not wid dat boy!"
Filled anew with terror Jack struggled to a sitting position and began
straining desperately at his bonds. A moment's effort caused his heart to
sink. The knots were as taut as though made of wire.
Determinedly he continued to strain and pull, however, and presently,
losing his balance, he rolled over on his side, and something hard
pressed into his chest.
The dagger he had picked up! Quickly he saw the possibility of using it.
Working again into a sitting position, he bent low and sought to reach
inside his coat and seize the hilt of the knife with his teeth. But as
often as he reached, the coat swung, and the hilt evaded him.
Jack was not to be beaten, however. Getting to his knees, he bent far
over, until his head almost touched the floor, and fell vigorously to
shaking himself. At the second effort the dagger slipped out to the
floor. Quickly then he got a firm hold on the end of the handle with his
teeth, struggled again to a sitting position, drew his knees up as far as
possible, and bending low between them, began stabbing at the
handkerchief about his ankles with the point of the weapon.
At the first attempt the knife barely touched the handkerchief. He tried
again, and just reached it. Throwing his head far back, to gain momentum,
he lunged forward with all his strength. The keen point struck the linen
squarely, there was a rip and tear--and his feet were free.
As the severed handkerchief fell from his ankles, the dagger, slipping
from Jack's teeth, clattered to the floor. But the noisy discussion still
going on without prevented its being heard; and promptly Jack turned to
the problem of freeing his hands.
As they were tied behind him, this promised to be far more difficult.
Indeed Jack's courage was beginning to fail him, when the method of
freeing his ankles suggested a possibility. At once he essayed it. Rising
to a kneeling position, he strained at his wrists for several minutes,
then, bending far over, began working his hands down beneath him.
It seemed as though they would never come, and again and again he had to
pause for breath. Desperately he continued, and suddenly at last they
slipped, and were under him, directly below his knees.
Throwing himself over on his side, he once more grasped the dagger hilt
in his teeth, and as he lay, carefully aimed the point between his legs
at the cord about his wrists, and gave a quick, hard thrust. At the first
blow he struck the cord fairly, but only half severed the strand. Again
he lunged, and the next moment he was free.
The heated debate was still in progress in the outer room, and nearly
exhausted though he was, Jack immediately scrambled to his feet and
tiptoed to the window. To his joy he discovered it was made of a sliding
frame, only fastened by a loosely-driven nail. It required but a few
minutes' work to remove this, and very cautiously he began sliding the
window back.
Half way it went easily, without noise. Then it stuck. Carefully Jack put
his shoulder to it. Suddenly, without warning, it gave, then stopped with
a jar, and to his horror a broken pane shot from the frame and fell
clattering to the floor.
From the other room came a shout and a rush of feet. In desperation Jack
stepped back, and with a run fairly dove at the opening. His head and
shoulders passed through, then he stuck. Behind him the door flew open.
With a desperate wriggle he struggled through, and fell in a heap to the
ground just as the negro reached the window and made a wild lunge for
him. The next moment Jack was on his feet and off across the clearing
like a hare.
The four lawbreakers were quickly out of the house in full chase.
Presently there was the report of a pistol, and a shrill "wheeeu" just
over Jack's head. Ducking instinctively, but with grimly set lips, he
rushed on. Again came the whine of a bullet, and again. With a final
sprint Jack reached the cover of the woods in safety, darted to the
brush-pile and recovered his camera, and on, straight through the trees
for the spot at which he had hidden his wheel.
Love of outdoor life and sports now stood Jack in good stead. Despite the
exhausting efforts of his escape, and the hard running amid the trees,
over trunks and through undergrowth, he kept on at the top of his speed,
and finally reached the road ahead of the nearest of his pursuers.
Rushing for his wheel, he dragged it forth, and quickly had it on the
road. Not a moment too soon. As he sprang into the saddle there was a
shout and a crash of bushes but a few feet from him. But throwing all his
weight on the pedals, he shot away, and a moment after sped about a bend
in the road--and was safe.
Jack would not have been a real boy had there not been considerable pride
in his voice when, entering the "Star" office the following morning, he
handed West, the reporter, two small photographs, neatly mounted, and
said:
"Here are the pictures, Mr. West."
West sprang to his feet. "No! Great! Splendid!" he cried. "How did you do
it, Jack?
"But here--" Pushing Jack into a chair, he dropped back into his own, and
caught up a pencil. "Give me the whole story, from beginning to end. If
the police round up these fellows this morning we will run it in to-day's
edition."
This, with the aid of Jack's snap-shots, the police did, capturing the
entire band; and that afternoon's edition of the "Star" carried a
two-column story of Jack's adventure with the Black-Handers, which, with
the pictures, made what West declared "the biggest story of a month of
Sundays."
X