SOMETHING OF A CLUE
“Tad Sobber!”
The cry came simultaneously from all of the Rover boys.
“Yah, dot’s so!” exclaimed Hans. “I remember him now. Vonce I vos ask
Sobber vere he got dot sthone.”
“If the stone belongs to Sobber—he must have been here!” gasped out Sam.
“Do you think he is around now?” asked Tom, and threw his eyes about the
lawn, as if half expecting their enemy to show himself.
“No, he isn’t here now—wish he was,” answered Dick, bitterly. “More than
likely he is miles away by this time—and the Stanhope fortune with him.”
“I can’t understand this,” said Fred. “Unless Sobber has been here,
spying on you.”
“Maybe he followed the Stanhopes here—to find out, if he could, what had
become of the fortune,” suggested Sam.
“Sam, I think you’ve struck it!” almost shouted Dick. “It may be that he
came here, heard Mrs. Stanhope ask dad to invest the money for her, and
heard dad say that he would let her know when he wanted the cash. Then,
perhaps, he went off, and sent Mrs. Stanhope a bogus letter, or telegram,
signing dad’s name.”
“Say, Dick, you’re a regular sleuth!” cried Fred. “I guess you’ve got it
straight.”
The boys entered the house, and there told their uncle and aunt of what
had been found. Randolph Rover looked at the stone with interest.
“It is a curious one,” he said slowly. “I do not imagine there are many
like it. If this Sobber had one, then this is probably his.”
“You didn’t see any strangers around the farm, did you?” asked Sam.
“None that I noticed. Of course plenty of folks have passed up and down
the main road, and the back road, too.”
It was not long after that when Jack Ness drove up with the camping
outfit. The boys aided the man in putting the outfit away and also
questioned him concerning Sobber.
“There was one man, or young fellow, hanging around,” answered Jack Ness.
“I tried to reach him, to ask him wot he wanted, but he jumped the
orchard fence and got away. I thought he might be a tramp, although he
wasn’t dressed like one.”
“Why didn’t you report him?” demanded Dick.
“Oh, everybody was a-havin’ seech a good time I didn’t want to bother
you. I watched the fellow until he was away down the road.”
“How was he dressed and how did he look in the face?”
As well as he was able the hired man described the individual he had
seen. The clothing counted for nothing, but the face and manner of the
person tallied with that of Tad Sobber.
“I guess it was Sobber right enough,” was Tom’s comment. “We ought to let
dad know about this.”
“We will let him know—first thing tomorrow morning,” answered Dick.
All waited impatiently for some word from Mr. Rover, but none came in
until eight o’clock the next morning. Then the telegram was very brief,
reading as follows:
“Bad mix-up, money all gone. Better come on and help in investigation.”
“Too bad!” groaned Dick. “I am going to start for Cedarville by the first
train.”
“So am I,” added Tom.
“And I,” came from Sam.
Then of a sudden all three lads looked at Fred and Hans.
“Don’t you mind me at all,” cried Fred. “I’ll go with you—as far as
Marville.”
“And I go so far as Ithaca,” added Hans. “Py chiminy! I hopes you cotch
dot rascal, Tad Sobber alretty quick!”
“So do I hope we catch him,” answered Dick.
The Rover boys were so used to traveling that getting ready did not
bother them. They knew they could catch a train for Ithaca in two hours
and so lost no time in packing their dress-suit cases.
“We’ll go to the depot in the auto,” said Dick. “Frank Rand can bring the
machine back here.” And so it was arranged, Rand being an automobile
owner living at the Run.
“Oh, boys, I do hope you will take care of yourselves!” cried Aunt
Martha, when they were ready to leave.
“Don’t worry, Aunty, we’ll do that!” cried Sam.
“Here is something to remember me by!” added Tom, and gave her a warm hug
and a kiss. Then the others kissed her, and gave a handshake to Uncle
Randolph.
Dick brought the automobile out, and in all of the lads piled and Aleck
Pop lifted in the dress-suit cases and Hans’ bundle. The power was turned
on, and off the touring car moved.
“Good-bye!” was the cry from the boys.
“Don’t forget to let us know what is happening!” called out Randolph
Rover. “And if you need me, don’t hesitate to send for me.”
Dick turned on more gasolene and advanced the spark, and soon the big
touring car was shooting along the country road at a speed of twenty-five
miles an hour. They had plenty of time to make the train, but the Rovers
were impatient to get to Oak Run, to send a message to their parent,
advising him of their coming.
Through the village of Dexter’s Corners they dashed, around a corner, and
then straight for the bridge spanning Swift River. A farm wagon was
making for the bridge from the opposite shore, and there was not room for
both vehicles to pass on the bridge.
“Better slow up and wait, Dick!” cautioned Sam, but instead, Dick turned
on more power, and away they sailed over the bridge like the wind, and
past the farm wagon.
“Phew! that’s going some!” cried Fred. “I don’t know as I would have
nerve to run a car like that!”
“Oh, Dick’s a dandy driver,” answered Tom, enthusiastically.
Arriving at the station, they went to the telegraph office and asked for
messages, and found none. Then word was sent to Anderson Rover at
Cedarville. After that the automobile was turned over to Frank Rand, who
agreed to take it back to Valley Brook farm that afternoon.
“Off ag’in, eh?” said Ricks, when they bought their tickets. “I don’t see
why you boys can’t settle down fer awhile.”
“Smoking any cigars now, Mr. Ricks.” asked Tom, dryly.
“If I am, ’tain’t none o’ your business!” snapped the old station agent.
“I just heard of a new cure for smoker’s jim-jams,” went on the
fun-loving youth. “You take a squash and boil it in lard, and then cut it
into thin slices, and——”
“I don’t want none o’ your cures!” roared Mr. Ricks savagely. “I ain’t
got no smoker’s jim-jams, nor nuthin’. I——”
“But you saw things, Mr. Ricks, you said you did. Worms, and snakes, and
strange things——”
“I didn’t! I didn’t!” howled the old station agent, growing red in the
face. “Now you shet up, do you hear? The boys has been pokin’ fun enough
at me as it is! Everywhere I go they ask me about my smokin’! I’m sick o’
hearin’ about it, an’ I ain’t goin’ to stand it, I ain’t!” And he shook
his fist in Tom’s face.
“Sorry you feel so bad about it, Mr. Ricks,” said Tom coolly. “I only
wanted to do you a favor. Now this squash cure is warranted to——”
“Didn’t I tell you I don’t want to hear about it!” shrilled the station
agent. “You mind your business, Tom Rover! I know you! Some day I’ll fix
you, yes, I will!”
“Oh, Mr. Ricks, I only want to be of service. Now, if you will only
listen. This squash cure is warranted——”
“Stuff and nonsense! I won’t listen, do you hear? I won’t listen!” The
station agent was fairly dancing up and down. “I—I—There’s the train. Go
on with you, and good riddance!”
“Oh, Tom, you’ll be the death of Ricks!” laughed Sam, as all of the lads
climbed up the steps of the cars.
“Not much! Nothing like that will ever kill him,” answered the fun-loving
Rover. “He’s too tough!”
“He’ll get even with you some day,” said Dick.
“Let him—I’m willing,” answered Tom, calmly. He was so fair-minded that
he was willing to take as well as give, when it came to practical jokes.
The train rolled on, and for the time being the boys had little to do but
talk over the situation. At a junction point Fred left them. He promised
to write and asked them to send him the particulars of what they did.
Just before Ithaca was reached, the train was delayed. As a consequence
they missed the last boat for Cedarville that night.
“That’s too bad,” said Dick. “Now we won’t be able to get to the Stanhope
place until eleven o’clock tomorrow morning.”
“Well, we can send a telegram to dad at Cedarville,” said Sam. “And maybe
we can telephone,” he added.
At Ithaca Hans left them.
“I keeps mine eyes open for dot Dad Sobber,” said he. “Of I finds him I
let you know.”
“That’s the talk, Hans!” cried Tom. “You play detective and some day
perhaps you’ll win a great big leather medal.”
“Yah, dot’s so,” answered the German youth, complacently.
At the telegraph office they sent a message to their father, who had
engaged a room at the new Cedarville Hotel. They mentioned that they
would go to the Axtell House in Ithaca, and asked him to communicate with
them there by telephone.
At the Axtell House a surprise awaited them. Seated in the reading room
they found Dan Baxter, the one-time bully of Putnam Hall, but who had
reformed and who was now a commercial traveler for a large jewelry
concern.
“Why, Dan, you here!” cried Dick, as Baxter, on seeing them, rushed up to
shake hands.
“I am,” returned the young commercial traveler. “But I didn’t think to
have the pleasure of seeing you,” he added. “Thought you’d be off on a
summer vacation somewhere.”
“We were off camping, but we came this way on business,” answered Sam.
“How have you been?”
“First-rate. Don’t I look it?” and Dan Baxter smiled openly.
“You certainly do,” put in Tom. “Traveling must agree with you.”
“It does.”
“And business is good?” asked Dick.
“The best ever. And what is more to the point, I’ve had a raise in
salary.”
“You mean the one you mentioned when you met us at Ashton,” said Tom.
“No, another one. You see, a rival firm made me an offer. My firm heard
of it, and they at once came to me, and told me I mustn’t think of
leaving—and then they tacked another five dollars per week on my salary,”
and Dan Baxter’s eyes beamed.
“Good!” cried Dick. “Stick to it, Dan, and some day you’ll be a member of
the firm.”
“That is what I am working for. Going to stay here over night?”
“Yes.”
“Good enough. We can talk things over. I was rather lonely—not having a
soul to talk to. And by the way, whom do you think was here some days
ago?”
“Tad Sobber?” questioned Dick, quickly.
“Why—er—yes—he was here. But I wasn’t thinking of him when I spoke.”
“Who were you thinking of?” asked Tom.
“Old Josiah Crabtree. He is out of prison, you know, and he heard I was
stopping here, and he came to see me.”