THE END OF THE SEARCH
“What have you been doing?” demanded Stuffer, as the party of four
cadets turned in the direction of the hut in the woods.
“Oh, we’ve been playing a joke on a Pornell Academy student,” answered
Jack, quickly. He thought it best to keep the affair of the bracelet a
secret. All had taken the handkerchiefs from their faces.
“Wasn’t that Will Carey?”
“Yes,” said Andy.
“Where are the crazy men?” asked Pepper, to change the subject.
“Why, we walked out on a certain foot path we discovered after you were
gone and we found a spot where they had been camping. One of them had
written a bit of doggerel on a sheet of paper and tacked it to a tree.
Mr. Strong says it is in Callax’s handwriting. In the doggerel he bids
farewell to this neighborhood.”
“Does Mr. Strong think they have left?” asked Andy.
“He doesn’t know what to think. He wants to follow the foot path.”
It did not take the cadets long to reach the spot where Stuffer had left
George Strong. Then the whole party hurried along the foot path, which
ran directly through the dense woods. Here the ground was soft and they
could see the fresh footprints with ease.
“I believe this leads to the lake,” said the teacher, and he was right.
They soon came out on the lake shore, at a point where there was a tiny
cove. Close at hand was a boat stake, and they could plainly see where a
boat had been tied up and how it had been shoved off with an oar.
“They have gone,” said George Strong, and the tone of his voice showed
his disappointment.
“And there is no telling where they have gone to,” added the young
major.
They walked up and down the lake shore for a good distance, but saw no
craft containing two men. Not far away was a small boat and this
contained Will Carey, who was rowing slowly in the direction of the
Pornell Academy dock.
“I suppose we’ll have to give this hunt up,” said the teacher, when it
was about four o’clock in the afternoon. “Too bad! I thought sure we’d
capture them.”
“Are you going back to the Chetwood cottage?” asked Pepper.
“We may as well—it is not far out of our way.”
When they arrived at the cottage they found that Mr. Chetwood and his
wife had returned. The man was looking anxiously for them to appear.
“Git ’em?” he cried, when he caught sight of them.
“No,” answered Jack.
“I am sorry—dreffully sorry,” and Mr. Chetwood heaved a deep sigh.
“I believe they stole a vest belonging to you,” said George Strong.
“Anything in it of value?”
“Yes and no,” was the reply. “You see, I had a roll of old Confederate
money and I kept it in the vest—why, I don’t know. Well, the roll is
gone.”
“What sort of bills did it contain?” questioned Pepper.
“Ten and twenty dollar bills—about two hundred dollars in all. But as
they was Confederate I reckon they ain’t wuth ten or twenty cents now.
You see I was a Confederate soldier in the war—that’s how I got the
bills,” explained Mr. Chetwood.
“Those men are crazy,” said George Strong. “I may as well tell you they
are distant relatives of mine—although I am in no wise responsible for
their safe keeping. They have been in charge of another relative, who
put them in a sanitarium. I suppose if they try to pass some of those
Confederate bills they’ll get into more trouble.”
“It may lead to their capture—and that will be something,” was Jack’s
comment.
“They sure was crazy—to steal the looking-glass and the inkwell,” said
Mr. Chetwood. “I am glad they didn’t harm Nat. Being a cripple, he can’t
defend himself very well.”
“I shall do all I can to capture them,” said Mr. Strong.
“You’ll have to capture them,” said Mrs. Chetwood. “Why everybody will
be afraid to stir out—with two crazy men roaming the woods.”
The secret could not be kept longer, and by Sunday persons living for
miles around knew that the crazy men who had once before been in that
vicinity were again at large. A large number of men and boys went out to
hunt for the pair, but without avail. George Strong offered a reward of
one hundred dollars for their capture, but even this did not bring them
to light.
As soon as the young major got his sloop back from the boat builders he
tried the craft and found her in prime condition. The new mainsail and
the improved tiller worked wonders, to his mind, and he took a keen
delight in running the _Alice_ up and down the lake in front of Putnam
Hall.
“She’s a good deal better than she was,” said he to Pepper. “I am not
afraid to match her against anything on this lake.”
“Well, that is saying a good deal, Jack,” returned his chum.
“I know what I am talking about,” was the young major’s confident
answer.
During the week Jack met Fred Century, and from the latter learned that
the owner of a sloop up the lake was also anxious for a race.
“His name is Bob Anderson,” said Century. “He owns a sloop named the
_Neptune_.”
“I have seen the boat,” answered Jack. “Rather a rakish-looking craft.”
“So she is. Well, Anderson is very anxious for a race, and I was
wondering if we couldn’t make ours a three-handed affair.”
“I am willing if you are,” said Jack, promptly. “I am not afraid of
anything on the lake.”
“Then supposing we see Anderson and have a talk with him?”
A meeting was held, and the upshot of the conference was that a race
between the three sloops was arranged for the following Saturday,
weather permitting. Some gentlemen from the New York Yacht Club, who
were stopping at Ithaca, volunteered to judge the race and were accepted
by all interested.
“Well, now you’ll have two sloops to beat,” said Dale to Jack after the
race had been decided upon. “They tell me the _Neptune_ is a splendid
craft.”
“Dale, do you think they can beat the _Alice_?” demanded the young
major.
“I hope not. But you don’t want to be too sure of this race, Jack.”
“I am sure of the _Alice_.”
As Bob Anderson was well known in local society, his coming into the
race created quite a stir. As a consequence the race became a social
affair, and hundreds of people said they would attend. Many boathouses
along the lake were to be decorated.
“We are going out—in papa’s yacht,” said Laura Ford to Andy when they
chanced to meet near the Hall one afternoon.
“I am glad to hear it,” said Andy. “But you must be careful and not go
overboard again—as you did when we had the rowing races.”
“Oh, we’ll be very careful,” answered the girl. And then she gave Andy a
warm look, for she had not forgotten what a great service he and his
chums had done her and her sister on that occasion.
“I only hope we have a spanking breeze,” said Jack to Pepper, as they
and Andy took a short sail in the _Alice_ on Friday afternoon. “If there
is one thing I despise in a race it is a drifting match.”
“Maybe you’ll get too much wind,” said Pepper.
“Can’t get too much for me—I know how to handle my boat. She’ll not go
over with me, as the _Ajax_ did with Fred Century.”
“Does Century think he can beat the _Neptune_?” asked Andy.
“In a breeze, yes. But he told me the _Neptune_ was such a rakish sloop
she could drift well when the wind died down. So if we don’t get much
wind Anderson’s craft may win.”
“Sure the boat is in the best possible condition,” went on Pepper, with
a sharp look around.
“Doesn’t she look it?”
“She certainly does.”
“If I were you, I’d keep a close eye on my boat until that race is
sailed,” said Andy, after a few minutes of silence.
“What do you mean, Andy?”
“Well, you know we’ve got our enemies in this school. Ritter and his
crowd would rather see you lose than win.”
“Paxton and Coulter certainly wanted us to lose that bicycle race,” said
Pepper.
“Do you think they’d try to injure the boat?” asked the young major.
“Possibly—I don’t know.”
“If I thought that I’d—I’d stay on board to-night,” said Jack.
“No, you want a good night’s sleep,” said Pepper. “One of us can stay on
board as well as you can.”
“Let us both stay,” came from Andy. “We’ll be company for each other.”
“Maybe you can’t get permission to stay?” said the owner of the _Alice_.
“We won’t ask for permission,” answered Pepper. “We’ll just come down
here after lights are out and bunk till morning. Then we’ll watch our
chance and slip back into the Hall some time before breakfast.”
And so it was arranged.