STARTLING NEWS FROM THE JUGGINS BOY
"Burr-r-r-r!"
That was the telephone bell ringing.
"Hugh, will you answer it, since the chances are the call is from some
one of your numerous boy chums?" the voice of Mrs. Morgan came from
the dining-room, where she was looking after the silver and china,
after washing up the supper dishes, for they temporarily chanced to
be without a hired-girl.
Hugh guessed as much. He had already been called to the several
times since arriving home after his seven-mile spin. Once it had
been Claude's mother, begging him to be sure and call at her house
early in the morning, because she wanted to have a good, long, earnest
talk with him about Claude's future; and also to let him know how
brimful of gratitude a mother's heart could be toward the brave
boy who, at the risk of his own life, had saved her only child for
her.
Hugh had promised he would see her, although he expected to be very
busy on the morning of the athletic tournament and then expressed the
hope that Claude and herself would honor the tournament with their
presence. This she hastily assured him she meant to do, because
it was now borne in on her heart that she had been making a terrible
mistake in reference to the way she was bringing up her darling
Claude.
Needless to say, Hugh had chuckled joyously after that little talk.
He guessed he would have little trouble now in removing the scales
Mrs. Jardine had allowed to cover her eyes with regard to the benefits
to be derived by any boy, no matter how weak he might be, through a
judicious system of athletic exercises, the same to be lengthened as
he gradually grew more capable of standing fatigue.
"Hello!" Hugh called.
A voice he immediately recognized as that of Horatio Juggins greeted
him. "That you, Hugh?"
"Just who it is; what's the matter, Horatio? Feeling the effects
of your little jog this afternoon? I hope not, for your sake,
to-morrow."
"Oh! come off, Hugh," the other quickly replied. "I'd be a fine
candidate for a fifteen-mile Marathon race, wouldn't I, if seven
miles knocked me out? I'm as fit right now as a fiddle. But Hugh,
can you come right over here now? Something dreadful has happened."
Hugh had a chilly feeling pass over him. It seemed as though some
sort of bad news was coming. Had the great meet been called off,
for some unknown reason or other? Somehow that struck him first as a
dire possibility, since it would grievously disappoint thousands of
eager boys and girls, not to mention many older folks with young hearts.
Now Hugh had intended to take that evening quietly, resting after his
strenuous afternoon, and absolutely refuse to allow Thad, or any
other fellow, to coax him outside the door. But already this resolve
began to weaken. That dim mention of some possible tragedy happening
started him going.
"Of course I can come over, Horatio," he told the boy at the other
end of the wire; "and I'll do so right away on condition that it's
no joke. Tell me what's up first."
"Oh! I meant to do that, Hugh," his friend hastened to say, and Hugh
could detect a tremor to the boyish voice that told of excitement.
"You see, it's K.K."
"What's happened to him?" demanded Hugh, his mind instantly suggesting
all manner of terrible possibilities, from a sudden attack of sickness
to an accident whereby his life might be in danger; for with boys these
things sometimes happen as unexpectedly as a flash of lightning from
a clear sky.
"Why, he never came back again from that run this afternoon, Hugh!"
Horatio was saying, in an awed tone now.
"What's that you're telling me?" exclaimed the astonished Hugh. "I
thought I saw K.K. with some of the other fellows when I was starting
home just before dusk came on, though, of course, I may have been
mistaken about it."
"You were, Hugh, you certainly were," Horatio assured him in a softened
tone. "His own mother ought to know, hadn't she? Well, she's over
here at our house right now, crying her eyes out, and imagining all
sorts of terrible things. You remember the Kinkaids live close by
us; and she knew her boy was going to take the run this afternoon
along with me, so she thought I could tell her if anything had happened
to detain him. Why, she says K.K. never missed his supper before
in all his life. It'd have to be something _fierce_ to keep him away
from his best meal of the whole day."
Hugh was thinking swiftly. He realized that this was no little matter
to be dismissed as unimportant. Something certainly must have
happened to detain K.K. for all this time. Several hours had elapsed
since the other fellows reached the terminus of the long run at the
athletic grounds. Why then had not K.K. shown up?
"Keep the rest till I get there, Horatio!" he told the other.
"Then you're sure coming, are you, Hugh?"
"Right away," Hugh added.
"Well, I'm glad, because you'll know what to do about it. And there's
something else!"
"Yes?"
"I've got something to tell you that, say, I didn't have the heart to
explain to K.K.'s mother, because she's had enough frightened as it
is; but it's looking particularly ugly to me, now that he hasn't
come back. Oh! perhaps there is more'n a grain of truth in all
those terrible stories those hayseeds tell about that place!"
Hugh put up the receiver with a hang, made a dash for his cap, slipped
on his sweater, for he knew the night air was cold, and then shot out
of doors. Somehow those last few words of Horatio, breathing of
mystery as they did, had excited his curiosity until it now reached
fever-pitch.
As he knew of several short-cuts across lots it took him but a few
minutes to arrive at the Juggins home. Horatio was waiting at the
door, and must have heard him running up the steps, for he instantly
opened it to admit him.
"Gee, but I'm glad you've come, Hugh!" was his greeting. "She's in
there with mother, and taking on awful about it. It's a dreadful
thing to see a woman cry, Hugh. And I'm afraid there may be a good
reason for expecting the worst."
"Tell me what you've got up your sleeve, Horatio," snapped Hugh, "and
quit giving all these dark hints. You know something connected with
K.K. that perhaps no one else does."
"Guess I do, Hugh; for he confided in me, and told me not to say
anything to the rest. Oh, how foolish it was for K.K. to think he
could do that big job two days in succession; but he said he was
feeling equal to nearly anything; and just had to make the try,
since the notion had gripped him. But come on over to my den, Hugh,
and I'll tell you all about it. Then you must decide what's best
to be done; and say, I hope you can soothe Mrs. Kinkaid a bit in
the bargain."
Ten seconds later and the two boys found themselves ensconced in the
room Horatio called his "den," although it was also his sleeping
apartment. But he had fixed it as near like a boy's ideal of a
lounging-place could be, the walls carrying the customary college
pennants and a great variety of other things besides that gave them
a rather crowded appearance. Evidently Horatio believed it added
to the charm, for he never entered that "sanctum" without an involuntary
smile of appreciation.
Horatio closed the door softly after him. Hugh had also noticed how
he did this just as carefully when admitting him to the front hall;
and as though he expected that this must have aroused a certain amount
of curiosity, Horatio hastened to explain.
"You see, the poor woman is so excited, and in such a nervous condition,
that she jumps up at the sound of a door closing, and starts to rush
out into the hall, believing that Justin has got back home and hurried
over to acquaint her with the joyous fact. Each time her
disappointment leaves her worse than before. She will be needing
Doctor Cadmus if this keeps on, as sure as anything."
"Well, what is it you want to tell me, Horatio?" demanded Hugh, not
even taking the trouble to drop down into the chair the owner of the
"den" shoved toward him; for it seemed as though he must soon be on
the jump---there was evidently something hanging over their heads,
which would be needing prompt attention.
"Why, it's just this, Hugh," began the other. "K.K. took a foolish
notion he'd like to say he'd one over the full course just for practice.
And, Hugh, he told me he meant to make use of the short-cut that
crosses the old haunted quarry!" Hugh started, and looked serious.
"Then, if anything has happened to K.K., it just have been while
he was crossing that mile tract between the two main roads," he
went on to say, without hesitation. Horatio nodded his head eagerly.
"I jumped to that same conclusion, Hugh, only I didn't dare mention it
to Mrs. Kinkaid. I thought you ought to know first of all, and decide
on the program. It's terrible just to think of it; and K.K. actually
pretended to make light, too, of all those stories the farmers have
been telling about that awful place."
"Hold your horses, Horatio!" Hugh exclaimed. "When I said that
I wasn't thinking of ghosts, or anything else unnatural. I meant
that in all probability poor K.K. met with some ordinary accident
while on that stretch, and has been unable to continue his run.
He may have tripped on a vine he failed to see, and either broken
his leg, or else sprained his ankle so badly that he can't even
limp along. I've known such a thing to happen---in fact, once I
got myself in the same pickle, and had to crawl two miles to a house,
every foot of the way on hands and knees, because the pain was frightful
whenever I tried to stand up. Well, the chances are K.K. has had
such a thing befall him."
Horatio heaved a tremendous sigh, as though quite a weighty load had
been taken off his chest.
"You make me feel a heap better, Hugh, when you're so positive," he
hastened to admit. "I was afraid it might be something even worse
than a sprain; but never mind what I thought. The question now is,
what ought we do about it?"
"There's only one thing that can be done," Hugh told him in his
customary straight-from-the-shoulder fashion, "which is for some of
his chums to organize a searching party, get the old Kinkaid car out,
and go up there to look over that abandoned road from one end to the
other. We'll find K.K., or know the reason why."
"That sounds good to me, Hugh!" declared Horatio, always ways ready
to follow where a bold leader showed the way; "and perhaps we may
have an opportunity to discover whether there is any truth about
those queer happenings the farmers keep telling of whenever the old
quarry is mentioned in their presence."
"We'll not bother our minds about fairy stories," Hugh assured him.
"What we're meaning to do is to look for a practical explanation of
K.K.'s holding out. And, mark my words, the chances are ten to one
we'll find the poor chap groaning alongside that road somewhere. But
let's get busy now, Horatio!"