TWO CONSPIRATORS
Doris, knowing that she could trust Bob, made him promise eternal secrecy
and then she told him the whole story, withholding only the name of the
highwayman.
The lad was indeed surprised at this sudden turn of affairs and he said
at once: “You don’t need to tell me who it is, Doris. I know it was Tom
Duffy. He was expelled from High last week and he said he was going to
skip the town.”
Doris wondered if she ought to deny this, but, desiring to shield Danny,
she said nothing at the time.
Bringing forth the bag of gold, she gave it to the boy.
He concealed it in the deep pocket of his heavy overcoat; then he said:
“Now, Doris, you just leave it to me. I’ll find some way to return this
to the old man tonight so that he may be relieved of his worrying. I’ll
wait for a hunch.”
Then, as the work of tidying the kitchen was finished, Bob exclaimed:
“Now bundle up, Doris, I’ll draw you on the sled while I skate. We can’t
let you miss all of the fun.”
They were greeted with jolly shouts when they appeared, and Dick Jensen
slid up to them, stopping only to do a double figure eight, in which
accomplishment he excelled. Then, taking the rope of the sled from Bob’s
warmly gloved hand, he said: “I’ll be Doris’ pony. I’m sure she would
rather have me, and, if I’m not mistaken, you’ll find Rose waiting for
you beyond the point.”
Bob’s face lighted. It was understood among these young people that some
day, when they were older, Rose and Bob would be engaged, and since it
was the only real romance in their midst, they all took a delighted
interest in it.
For an hour the gleaming ice was the picture of a merry mid-winter
frolic, but, as soon as the sun began rapidly to descend to the horizon,
Bob took Rose’s horn and blew thereon a long, clear blast, while the
maiden at his side, with cheeks as glowing as her ruddy name flower,
beckoned the skaters shoreward.
“Time to be going!” Bob called as they flocked in. “The sky is so cloudy,
the moon won’t be able to light us home, so we’ll try to make it before
dark.”
Half an hour later the cabin had been securely locked, the sleigh filled
with merrymakers, and the horses eager to be away after their long rest
in the shelter of a shed.
It was nearly dark when the inn was reached. Mr. Wiggin appeared in the
door to exclaim, “Well, I’m mighty glad to see you young folks headed for
town. My wife’s been worrying the whole afternoon, knowing that
highwayman was still at large. The sheriff and his men found some tracks
just back of the inn leading toward the pine wood.” Merry put in
excitedly: “Oh, Mr. Wiggin, if that robber was riding a horse, we know
where he turned toward the old Dorchester road.” But the innkeeper shook
his head.
“No, he was afoot, old man Bartlett said. Hal Spinney, from the milk
farm, went by a spell earlier on horseback.”
“How is Mr. Bartlett now?” Gertrude asked solicitously.
“Well, he’s pretty much all in,” Mr. Wiggin replied sympathetically.
Then, jerking his thumb over his shoulder, he said in a low voice, as
though not wishing to be heard: “My wife wouldn’t hear to his going back
to his shack up in the woods, so she’s got him in there by the fire. He’s
pretty hard hit, as you can guess, that five hundred dollars being his
lifetime savings.”
Bob was thinking hard. Now was the time to give the money back to Old Man
Bartlett, but he had promised Doris that he would not tell how she had
procured it. He thought it queer that the girl should care to protect
that ne’er-do-well of a Tom Duffy; nevertheless he had given his word and
would keep it. Jack was driving and was about to start the horses when
Bob called: “Wait a minute, Jack, will you? I’d like to take a look at
those tracks. Mr. Wiggin, I’m a shark at recognizing shoeprints. I wish
you’d show them to me.”
The girls, who were not in the secret, smiled at each other knowingly.
This carried out their theory that the members of the “C. D. C.” were
trying to solve the mystery of the highwayman.
“Sure thing. I’ll show them to you,” the garrulous innkeeper replied.
“Wait till I get a lantern. Dark’s settling down fast.”
A couple of the other boys climbed out of the sleigh, idly curious, and
accompanied Bob and Mr. Wiggin, who had reappeared with a lighted
lantern. Doris clenched her hands together nervously under the buffalo
rope. That Bob had his “hunch” she was sure, but what he was about to do,
she could not guess.
Five minutes passed, and ten; then the boys returned greatly excited.
They were all talking at once. “What happened?” Merry called out.
“Happened?” Dick Jensen exclaimed. “The money’s been found. Mr. Wiggin
stumbled right over that bag of gold. The robber must have been
frightened and dropped it in the snow close to his tracks. Every cent of
it was there.”
“O, thank goodness!” Gertrude exclaimed. “Now the old man can stop
worrying.”
Mr. Wiggin held the lantern up, his round face glowing. “It sure was a
lucky thing that Bob, here, wanted to look at those tracks,” he said. “No
telling but what that robber might have come back in the night, knowing
where he had dropped it.”
“Do hurry in, Mr. Wiggin, and give it to old Mr. Bartlett,” Doris begged,
and if there was an unusual tenseness in her voice, none of the others
noticed it. Bob glanced meaningly in her direction as he sat beside his
Rose, and Doris, who had been silent before that, suddenly became the
life of the party. “Oh, boys, please change your minds about taking us
right home,” she pleaded. “We girls want to turn up the wood road just a
little distance.”
“Why, Doris Drexel,” Betty Byrd cried in evident alarm, “_what_ a wild
suggestion! Why in the world should we want to go up the very road where
the robbery took place!”
“That’s what I’d like to know!” Bertha began, then she remembered that
Doris’ suggestion was merely the carrying out of their plan to try to
discover if the boys of the “C. D. C.” held their secret meetings in the
old Welsley “haunted” house. If the boys were willing to take the girls
through the old ruin, it would mean that it was _not_ their meeting
place.
“Oh, yes—do let’s go!” Bertha then seconded.
“All right,” Jack sang out willingly. “I’ll have to back up a little.
We’ve passed the wood road.”
“O, girls,” Merry gave Doris and Bertha a wink of understanding, “let’s
go there some other time. I think we’ve given our guests of honor enough
thrills for tonight.”
To which Geraldine heartily agreed, and so the horses were turned out
upon the highway. When the girls had been left at their homes, the boys
laughed and shouted as though at a good joke. The girls would indeed have
been mystified if they had heard them.