THE TIN BOX
Pep was a quick thinker. He could not tell how it was, but the minute
his eyes lighted on the two strangers he somehow associated them with
the group from whom he had anticipated trouble earlier in the night. In
fact he was not sure that they were not two members of the quartette
who had been the object of the visit of the officer from the city.
“What do you want?” Pep instantly challenged.
For answer his assailant leaped forward and made a grab for him. Pep
knew that the intrusion of these men could have no good motive. He
dodged, seized a frying pan from the gas stove, and brandished it
vigorously.
“I’ll strike!” he shouted. “Don’t you try to hold me!”
“Quiet the young spitfire,” growled the second of the men, and although
Pep got in one or two hard knocks with his impromptu weapon, he was
finally held tightly by the arms from behind by one of the men. Pep
let out a ringing yell, hoping to attract attention from outside, but
his friends were by this time in the turmoil of the fire, and the few
crossing vacant spaces were shouting and excited like himself.
“I supposed they had all rushed out to the fire,” spoke the man who had
first appeared. “Keep this one quiet, if you have to choke him.”
Pep’s captor threw him to the floor and pinned him there with his knee
on his breast, despite his wrigglings. He managed to apply a gag. Then
he rudely jerked Pep to his feet, holding his wrists together in a
vise-like grip.
The flare from the fire and the bright moonlight illumined the room as
clearly as day. Some vivid thoughts ran riot in the active mind of Pep
as the other man went into one of the partitioned sleeping places.
“That’s right,” called out Pep’s captor. “The boy who had the tin box
carried it in there somewhere.”
“Got it!” sounded in a triumphant tone two minutes later, and there was
a rattle and a rustling sound.
Pep groaned inwardly. He could figure things out clearly now, he
fancied. The intruders were the two former companions of those arrested
not two hours before by the city officer.
“Then it was the fellow he was after that left the chamois bag,”
theorized Pep rapidly. “He didn’t want it found on him, and he got word
to these friends of his. They probably saw us looking at the necklace
through the windows and planned to get it back. When Frank and the
others ran out to the fire they hurried in here, and----”
“Got it; eh?” inquired Pep’s captor, as his comrade reappeared.
“I have,” chuckled the other, and busied himself rolling a pillow slip
about the tin box. “Found it under a cot in there. Now then, quick is
the word.”
The man who held Pep gave him a sudden fling. Pep landed against the
wall on the other side of the room with stunning force. The two men,
hurriedly departing, directed a quick glance at him.
“That settles him,” observed the foremost of the two, running down the
outside stairs.
Pep was dazed for a moment. He actually fell back half stunned. His
head had received a terrific bump. The instant a thought of the loss of
their little treasure box drifted into his mind, however, he was on his
feet in a flash.
He tore the obstructing handkerchief from his mouth and made for the
open door, capless and out of breath. Pep darted down the stairs, his
eyes glancing in every direction. The whole top of the building, three
hundred feet away, was blazing now. There was a vacant space behind the
Wonderland, and across this people were running in the direction of the
fire. Pep could not make out his friends anywhere about. As his glance
swept in the opposite direction he saw two shadowy forms headed on a
run for the side street.
“It’s them; I see them!” cried Pep, and he sprinted ahead, his eyes
fixed upon the scurrying figures. They disappeared between two
buildings. Then they came out on the street next to the boardwalk.
All along Pep’s idea had been to get near enough to them to call
upon others to assist him in detaining them as thieves. There was no
police officer in sight, however, and people about were thinking only
of getting to the scene of the fire. Then, as Pep came out upon the
street into which the two men had turned, he saw them standing by an
automobile. One of them was cranking it. The other had climbed into the
rear seat.
“Stop those men! they have robbed us!” shouted Pep, putting for the
spot where the automobile stood and addressing three or four persons
who were hastening in the direction of the fire.
One of these halted and looked at Pep as if to take heed of his
announcement, but his fellows urged him to come on and laughed at Pep.
The outcry had hastened the movements of the thieves. The man in front
of the machine jumped into the chauffeur’s seat and seized the wheel.
“You shan’t get away with our property!” declared Pep, gaining on the
auto just starting up. “Help! Thieves! Police! Police!”
The man in the rear seat had placed the box by his side. He had both
hands free. As Pep leaped to the step and clung there, he reached out
both arms. He was a fellow of powerful build, and he was annoyed and
angry at the pertinacity of their pursuer. Pep dodged his head and body
aside, but the man got a hold on his coat and pulled him clear over
into the machine.
“Now go on,” he directed his companion. “I’ll squelch the young
wildcat.”
“You won’t! Help! Police--pol----”
The man had Pep down between his knees. He was cruelly brutal,
squeezing him down out of view from the street and choking him into
silence. Pep gave up all hope now. He was silenced and helpless. The
machine made several turns to baffle pursuit, if anyone should follow,
and started down a winding road leading into the country.
“Now you sit still there and keep your tongue quiet or I’ll do worse
for you next time,” growled his captor, lifting Pep to the seat and
holding to one arm.
“Why don’t you pitch him out?” demanded the man acting as chauffeur.
“We’re past the hue and cry now.”
“Not from a fellow with his sharp wits,” retorted the other. “He’d find
the first telephone, double-quick. He’s made us a lot of trouble. I’ll
give him a long walk home for his meddling.”
They were going at such a furious rate Pep knew that even if they
passed anyone his shout would be incoherent and borne away on the wind.
At any rate they were secure from pursuit except by an automobile like
their own.
He foresaw the fate of the little tin box--carried away with its
precious contents by these criminals, himself abandoned in some lonely
spot to find his way back home as best he might. A desperate resolve
came into Pep’s mind, as glancing ahead he caught the glint of water.
At the end of a steep incline a bridge spanned a small river. Pep got
his free hand ready. Just as the front wheels of the machine struck
the first timbers of the bridge, his hand shot out for the tin box in
its pillow case covering, lying on the cushion between himself and his
captor.
It was all done quick as a flash. A grab, a whirl, a splash, and the
hurling object disappeared beneath the calm waters just beyond the
outer bridge rail. The man beside Pep uttered a shout. He was so taken
aback at the unexpected event that he relaxed his hold on his captive.
His cry had startled his companion at the wheel, who took it as a
signal of warning of some sort, and he instantly shut down on speed. It
was Pep’s golden opportunity. Before the man beside him could prevent
it, he made a nimble spring out of the machine, landed on the planking
of the bridge approach, stumbled, fell, and then, as a crash sounded,
dived into a nest of shrubbery lining the stream.
Pep did not wait to look back to trace the occasion of the crash. He
heard confused shouts and knew that the two men had gotten into some
trouble with the automobile. A light not over a hundred feet distant
had attracted his attention. Pep darted forward. He ran into a barbed
wire fence, then he crawled under it, and on its other side made out
a farmhouse. The light came from the doorway of a big barn, where two
persons, a man and a boy, were just unhitching a horse from a light
wagon.
“Mister!” cried Pep breathlessly, running up to the men, “two thieves
had wrecked their automobile right at the bridge. They have stolen a
lot of money and jewelry. They tried to carry me away with them.”
“Run for my gun, Jabez,” ordered the farmer, roused at the sensational
announcement. “Maybe they’re the fellows who broke in here last week
when we were away at a neighbor’s.”
The boy ran to the house. He soon reappeared with a clumsy
double-barreled shotgun over his shoulder.
“Arm yourselves,” directed the farmer, taking the weapon in one hand,
the lantern in the other.
His son picked up a rake and handed a pitch-fork to Pep. Then the boys
followed the farmer as he strode towards the road.
The moonlight showed a wrecked automobile lying where it had been
driven into a little clump of saplings--breaking them off two feet from
the ground--and wedged in among the splintered branches. Evidently the
amateur chauffeur had in his excitement made a turn at the wrong moment.
“Where’s your robbers?” demanded the farmer.
“They saw us coming and have run away,” declared Pep. “Mister, I want
you to help me further and I will pay you for it.”
“What doing?” inquired the man.
“As I told you, those men had stolen a lot of valuables. They were in a
little tin box. Just as we were passing over the bridge here I saw my
chance to outwit them. I flung the box into the river.”
“What!” exclaimed the farmer.
“Sounds like a fairy story,” remarked his son skeptically.
“You find some more help, so if those fellows show themselves we can
beat them off or arrest them,” observed Pep, “and I will prove what I
have told you and pay you well for your trouble.”
“Jabez, go and wake up the two hired men,” directed his father.
“I’m a pretty good swimmer and diver,” said Pep, after the boy had gone
on his errand. “Is the water very deep?”
“Six or eight feet.”
“Then the rake will help me,” said Pep, proceeding to disrobe. He was
stripped of his outer garments by the time the boy Jabez had returned
with two sleepy-looking men. He was in the water at once. First he
probed with the rake. Then he made a close estimate of the spot where
the box was likely to have landed and took a dive.
Pep came to shore and rested for a few minutes. Then he resumed his
labors. After a long time under water his head bobbed up. He uttered
a shout of satisfaction and waved aloft the tin box, its dripping
covering about it.
“All right,” he hailed.
“A good deal in it, I suppose?” spoke the farmer, curiously regarding
it.
“Yes, there is,” replied Pep. “Hold it, please, mister, till I get my
clothes on. I want you to take me to Seaside Park right away--two of
you and the shotgun. If you’ll do it you can charge your own price.”
“That’s fair,” nodded the farmer.
He got the rig in the barn ready and told the two hired men they could
go back to their beds. They seemed, however, to have roused from their
sleepiness. Pep had told of a big fire in town, and that had influenced
them to accompany the crowd, “just for the fun of the thing,” as they
expressed it.
Jabez drove, Pep holding the rescued box, the farmer between them
with his shotgun ready for action. They saw nothing, however, of the
robbers. The latter seemed to have decamped. If they were lurking in
the vicinity, the sight of superior numbers kept them from making any
demonstration.
As they got nearer to the town the glare of the distant fire was noted,
and young Jabez whipped up the horse and made good time. The building
on fire was pretty well consumed, but the fire department had saved
adjoining structures. Pep directed Jabez to drive to the Wonderland by
the rear route. He noticed that the living rooms were lighted up.
“Wait here for a minute,” directed Pep to those in the wagon, dashing
up the steps of the playhouse with his precious box.