LINING UP FOR THE TRIAL SPIN
The next morning opened cloudy, and rather warm for the season, much to
the regret of all those fellows who had planned to take a spin over the
twenty-five mile course laid out by the committee of arrangements.
So long as it did not rain, they were not to be kept from carrying out
their ambitious plans. About eight o'clock Bristles and Colon, standing
in front of the picket fence that divided the Carpenter garden from the
road, saw Fred coming up the street.
"There's Fred," announced Colon, "and I hope Sid shows up soon, because
we'd better be making an early start."
The way in which he looked up at the sky when saying this caused Bristles
to instantly remark:
"Now, I reckon you're thinking it's going to rain on us before we get
back home again. That left leg of yours that you got hurt once, is a
regular old barometer, it seems, Colon."
"I don't know just how it comes," admitted the other, "but nearly every
time it gets to itching and burning, we do have a spell of bad weather.
Over at my house when they see me rubbing that leg, they begin to hunt up
rubbers and raincoats to beat the band. It's gotten to be next door to
infallible, dad says."
"All right, we'll forgive you if you do bring a dash of rain to-day,"
warned the other, "but be mighty careful how you let that leg get to
itching toward the end of next week. Why, a rain'd play the dickens with
all our plans for that glorious long run."
"You don't smash a thermometer every time it tells you how hot or cold it
is, do you?" demanded Colon. "Then why d'ye want to blame things on my
leg barometer? Just as if it had anything to do with the weather, 'cept
to warn you ahead. Seems to me I ought to have a gold medal, instead of
abuse. But here's Fred, and looking as if he was in apple pie trim for
making the grand rounds to-day."
Of course all of them were in their running outfits, which consisted of
trunks, sleeveless jerseys, shoes with spikes in the soles, and an excuse
of a hat, though Bristles declined to wear anything on his mop of hair.
"All here but Sid, now, Fred," announced Colon, as the other joined them.
"We're a little ahead of the time that was set," remarked Fred, who
seemed to be unusually sober it appeared to the sharp-eyed Colon, "and
Sid will be along soon. I saw him heading for town, and he called across
lots that he had a little errand, but would join us as soon as he could
get back home, and pile into his running togs. Let's sit down somewhere,
and take it easy, boys."
"A good idea, too," commented Bristles, "because, with a twenty-five mile
run before us, we'll have all the standing on our feet we want. Chances
are it'll be a pretty tired bunch of boys that'll turn up here some hours
from now."
They found a place to settle down, and after a little talk about the
weather, during which Colon was called upon to once more prophesy as to
the chances for rain, he suddenly turned to Fred, to say:
"What's bothering you this morning, Fred?"
"Why do you ask me that?" returned the other, with a little smile.
"Well," Colon continued, "I'm used to watching faces, and it struck me
when you came up, there was a worried look on your face. Hope you're not
feeling anyway off?"
"Never felt in better condition in my life," Fred assured him. "One or
two little bruises from that business of last night, but nothing to
mention, and I don't expect to even think of them again."
"What happened, then?" asked Bristles.
"Only that our house was entered last night!" Fred observed, calmly.
The other boys gave expression to their astonishment in various
exclamations.
"Burglarized, you mean, Fred?" cried Colon.
"Well, yes, I guess you might call it that, though it seems only one
particular thing was carried off," Fred replied.
"You've got us guessing good and hard," said Bristles. "Was that your
dad's pocketbook, his watch, the piano, or what could it be?"
"A hat," explained Fred.
Bristles and Colon fairly gasped upon hearing this.
"D'ye mean to tell us, Fred, that a desperate burglar would take all the
chances of breaking into a house where he might get shot, just to steal a
hat!" Colon demanded, as though suspecting they were being made the
victims of a joke, although as a rule Fred seldom allowed himself to
attempt anything of the kind.
"Sometimes even a hat may be a mighty important thing, if you stop to
think of it, fellows," he informed them.
"Great smoke! Fred, do you mean that hat?" exclaimed Bristles, suddenly
remembering something.
"The one we picked up on the battlefield!" added Colon, helplessly.
"That's the one I mean," they were told by the other, with a positive
tone that could not be mistaken. "When I got home I tossed it onto the
hall table. It wasn't there this morning, and I asked the girl, and
everyone about the house if they'd seen it, but nobody had. And what was
plain evidence of a robbery was the fact that a window was found open in
the sitting-room, which my dad says he is sure he shut and locked before
he went to bed."
"It was Cooney Jimmerson, of course?" suggested Colon.
"He's always been too clever with his fingers," Bristles gave as his
opinion. "Maybe you remember, Colon, because it was before Fred's time
here, how Cooney used to sneak into the coat-rooms at school, and go
through the pockets of our reefers looking for pennies or tops or any old
thing. He got in a peck of trouble on account of his sly tricks. If
anybody could turn the catch of a window, and crawl in, I'd put it up to
him."
"But Fred, how would he know you'd found his old hat?" asked Colon.
"We'll have to guess at that," he was told. "Look back, Colon, and
you'll be likely to remember that several times we heard a rustling sound
in that clump of bushes, while we were standing there talking, after
finding the hat."
"Yes, and you thought it might be only a rabbit, or a chipmunk, or
something like that," assented Colon, promptly.
"Now that the hat we were keeping as evidence has been stolen from my
house," Fred continued, "I'm more than sure that must have been Cooney
himself. He'd missed his hat, and afraid that we might find it, he came
creeping back to get into that bunch of brush, where he could hear every
word we spoke. So he knew I was keeping his hat to prove who was in the
crowd that tackled us unawares."
"He just knew that if his hat were ever shown, he'd be in the soup,"
observed Colon, "so he thought it worth while to take all kinds of
chances in the hope of copping it again. But let me tell you, the boy
who'd open a window, and creep into a neighbor's house night times, is
pretty close to the line. He's on the road to being a regular
professional thief when he grows up, because it shows he likes that sort
of thing."
"You know they say, 'as the twig's inclined, the tree is bent,'" Bristles
told them, ponderously, "and we all can guess what'll become of Buck
Lemington some day. He'll either make a striking figure in finance, or
else head some big swindle that'll send him up for twenty years."
"But with the evidence gone," Colon remarked, "of course that ends the
plan to show Cooney up at school?"
"Yes, and that was what he took such big chances for," Fred admitted.
"We might tell the whole story, but without any positive evidence there
would always seem to be a weak link in it. Some folks might even say we
were prejudiced. They'd rather believe the attack came from one of the
other towns. People always like to believe bad things about rival places
rather than the home town. So we'd better shut down on that hat part of
the story, and keep it quiet."
"Course it doesn't matter if we let it be known we were set upon, only we
mustn't say we suspect any particular boys," Colon went on to remark,
with a little confusion that told Fred he must have already been telling
something about the encounter, though not mentioning names.
"Call that settled, then," Bristles added, "but it's too bad, when you
had the case framed up against Cooney for fair and keeps. He'd have
found himself the most unpopular fellow in Riverport, that's, right."
"The main thing with me," Fred explained, "was the hope that when
everybody got to pointing the finger of scorn at Cooney, he'd feel so
mean and small that, not wanting to stand for all the abuse alone, he'd
up and confess that it was Buck who had started the racket. But as our
plans have missed fire, we'll have to forget all about it. We've got our
hands full as it is with this race, and getting ready to do our level
best to win."
"I think I see Sid coming," Colon told them just then, and as he had an
advantage over the rest by reason of his long neck, nobody disputed his
word.
"We haven't forgotten anything, I hope?" Bristles observed, as they
arose to their feet, and began to stretch themselves, boy fashion.
Fred carried a little pouch at his side that he did not believe would
interfere at all with his running, though of course even this would be
discarded when the great Marathon test was on. In this he carried
matches, a small but reliable compass, and a few simple remedies that
might come in handy in case any of them happened to be seized with colic
or cramps from drinking water when overheated.
"Nothing that I know of, Bristles," Fred announced, as he touched this
small pouch which, in the woods among old hunters would probably be
called a "ditty-bag," and contain all manner of little odds and ends
likely to be needed from time to time.
Sid was now running. The mere fact that he might be a little behind time
would hardly seem to be sufficient excuse for his starting off in this
way. Fred eyed the newcomer as he approached them. He fancied that Sid
was bringing news of some kind.
Sid was breathing a little fast. That was to be expected in the start,
though when he got his "second wind" he would very likely be good for a
long, hard run.
"Give me five minutes, fellows, to rest up in, so we can all start even,"
Sid went on to say, "and besides, I've got something to tell you."
All of them dropped down again on the fresh green grass that the recent
warm weather had caused to sprout forth luxuriantly in places.
"We're listening," Bristles told him, placing the cup of a hand back of
his ear, as though he wanted to make sure of not losing a single word,
while Colon assumed an eager attitude, with his eyes glued on Sid's
flushed face.
"None of you happened to go down-town this morning, I reckon?" was the
first thing Sid said, and as three heads were vehemently shaken in the
negative, he continued, "Well, then it'll give you something of a
surprise to know that it's happened again."
"Not a fire in the high school?" exclaimed Colon, for a serious event of
this kind had taken place in the near past, that had created something of
a panic in Riverport.
Sid shook his head in the negative.
"This was a robbery," he went on to say, in a way that gave the other
three a severe shock; "just as when old Periwinkle was robbed. This time
it was Mrs. Merriweather, the rich widow, who owns so many houses, and
gets her rents in on the first. Somebody broke in there, and she never
knew till this morning that her desk had been pried open, and three
hundred dollars taken!"