OFF FOR RALLY HALL
As Teddy had clearly foreseen, all that had happened before was as
nothing, when Uncle Aaron learned that his cherished watch was gone,
probably forever.
He stormed and raged and wondered aloud what he had done that he should
be saddled with such a graceless nephew. It was in vain that Mr. Rushton
offered to make good the money loss.
"It isn't a matter of money," he shouted. "I've had that watch so long
that it had come to be to me like a living thing. I wouldn't have taken
a dozen watches in exchange for it. Big fool that I was ever to come to
Oldtown."
All the amateur detective methods of the village constable ended in
nothing. And as day after day passed without news, it began to be
accepted as a settled fact that the culprits would never be found.
One happy day, however, came to lighten the gloom of Uncle Aaron. And
that was the day that the Rushton boys said good-by to Oldtown and
started for Rally Hall.
"Thank fortune," he said to himself, "they're going at last! A little
longer and I'd be bankrupt or crazy, or both."
But if Uncle Aaron was delighted to have them go, nobody else shared
that feeling, except Jed Muggs.
That worthy was in high glee, as he drove up to the Rushton home on that
eventful morning, to take them and their trunks to the railroad station
at Carlette.
Although he had made a pretty good thing, in a money way, out of the
accident, charging Mr. Rushton a great deal more than would have made up
the damage, he had by no means forgiven Teddy for the fright and the
shock he had suffered on that occasion. The Fourth of July incident of
the painted horses, of which he firmly--and rightly--believed Teddy to
have been the author, also still "stuck in his crop."
The old coach and horses swung up to the gate, and Fred and Teddy came
out. They had had a private parting with their parents, and now the
whole family, including Bunk, had come out on the veranda to see them
off.
Mr. Rushton was grave and thoughtful. Mrs. Rushton was smiling bravely
and trying to hide her tears. Uncle Aaron looked perfectly resigned. Old
Martha was blubbering openly.
The trunks were strapped on and the boys jumped inside the coach. Jed
climbed to the driver's seat, chirruped to his horses and they were off
amid a chorus of farewells.
Those left behind waved to them until they were out of sight. But in the
last glimpse that the boys had of the old home, they saw that their
mother was sobbing on her husband's shoulder, while Martha's apron was
over her face.
They themselves were more deeply stirred than they cared to show, and
for some time they were very quiet and thoughtful.
They chanced to be the only passengers that morning, and Jed, having no
one else to talk to, turned his batteries on them.
"So you're goin' to leave us, be you?" he remarked, chewing meditatively
on a straw.
"Yes," answered Teddy, the light of battle coming into his eyes, "and we
hate to tear ourselves away from you, Jed. You've always been such a
good pal of ours."
"It breaks us all up to leave you," chimed in Fred, "and we wouldn't do
it if it weren't absolutely necessary. I don't know how you are going to
get along without us."
"A heap sight better than I ever got along with yer!" snapped out Jed.
"I won't be lyin' awake nights now, wonderin' what rascality you kids
will be cookin' up next."
"And this is all the thanks we get for trying to make things pleasant
for you all these years!" exclaimed Teddy, in mock despair.
"The more you do for some people, the less they think of you," and Fred
shook his head mournfully.
"I tell you young scalawags one thing, and that ain't two," Jed came
back at them. "Ef it hadn't be'n fer me, you two might be behind the
bars this blessed minit.
"I ain't never writ ter the gover'ment yit, about you interferin' with
the United States mail," he went on magnanimously. "Yer pa and ma is
nice folks an' I don't want ter make no trouble fer them. Perhaps I
oughtn't ter hush the matter up, me bein', as yer might say, a officer
of the gover'ment when I'm carryin' the mails"--here his chest
expanded--"an' maybe the hull matter will come out yet and make a big
scandal at Washington. Yer actually busted up gover'ment prope'ty. That
padlock on the mail bag wuz bent so that I had ter git a new one----"
"Yes," interrupted Fred, "father said that he paid you a dollar for
that."
"I've seen those same padlocks on sale in the store for twenty-five
cents," added Teddy.
"That's neither here nur there," said Jed hastily. "The nub of the hull
thing is that if it hadn't been fer me, yer might be doin' the lock step
in Atlanta or Leavenworth, or some other of them gover'ment jails. How
would yer like that, eh? And wearin' stripes, an' nuthin' but mush and
merlasses fer breakfast, an' guards standin' around with guns, an'----"
But what other dismal horrors might have been conjured up by Jed will
never be known, as at that moment they came up alongside the railroad
station at Carlette, and more pressing things demanded his attention.
"Great Scott, Teddy!" exclaimed Fred, as they jumped down, "the whole
gang is here!"
Sure enough, it seemed as though all the juvenile population of Oldtown
had turned out to give them a royal send-off.
They ran up to the boys with a shout.
"It's bully of you fellows to walk all this distance to say good-by,"
said Fred, and Teddy echoed him.
"We'd have come up to the house," explained Bob Ellis, "but we knew
you'd have a whole lot to say to your own folks, and we didn't want to
butt in."
"We're all dead sore at your leaving the town," said Jim. "It won't seem
like the same old place with you fellows out of it."
There was a general chorus of assent to this from the other boys.
"We hate to leave the old crowd, too," said Fred. "But, of course, we'll
be back at holidays and vacation times. I only wish you fellows were
going along with us."
"That would be great," agreed Jack. "But no such luck for us."
"I don't know how we're going to fill your place on the football and
baseball teams," mourned Tom Barrett. "We'll be dead easy for the other
teams now."
"Don't you believe it!" said Fred heartily. "You'll find fellows to take
our places that will be better players than we ever dared to be."
"Nix on that stuff!" said Jim. "You know well enough that you put it all
over every other fellow in town."
The locomotive whistled at the nearest crossing, and a moment later the
train came into sight.
There was a perfect hubbub of farewells, and amid a chorus of good
wishes that fairly warmed their hearts, the boys swung aboard. Even Jed
thawed out enough to wave his hand at them in semi-friendly fashion.
"I'll keep it dark," he called after them, "that is unless the
gover'ment gits after me, on account of----"
But the rest was lost in the rattle of the train.
The Rushton boys were off at last.