CARRYING "FUN" TO THE DANGER LIMIT
The Hallowe'eners hidden across the street, and Hoof Sadby posted up the
street, ready to come on the scene and do his part when needed, Tom
Reade and Greg Holmes crept up to the front porch of the Crossleigh
home, deposited the basket, rang and then bolted.
In a short time a dim light was visible through the stained glass of the
front door. Then that barrier itself was opened, and Mr. Crossleigh, a
man past middle age, and in dressing-gown and slippers, came out.
Seeing no one, and coming further out, Mr. Crossleigh almost kicked the
basket. But he recovered in time, and bent down.
The peepers, not far away, heard him utter an exclamation of amazement.
Then:
"Wife!" he called back into the house. "Come and see who's here!"
"Who is it?" hailed a voice from inside. "Cousin Jenny?"
"No; it isn't."
"Who? The minister?"
"No; you just come and see."
Then Mrs. Crossleigh came down the hallway and out on to the porch.
"Now, who do you think it is?" chuckled Mr. Crossleigh, lifting the
basket.
"Henry Crossleigh, where on earth----"
"Don't ask me where it came from, wife. I found it here on the stoop
when I answered the bell."
"Well of all the----" gasped the woman in wonder.
"Ain't it!" agreed her husband.
"It's--it's--why, I do believe it's a real cute little shaver,"
continued the woman hesitatingly.
"Fine little fellow, I should say, though I'm no judge," continued Mr.
Crossleigh.
"And it isn't crying a bit. Do you suppose it's a foundling, left on our
stoop, as we sometimes read of in the papers, Henry?"
"That's just what it is, of course. Folks don't leave small children
around for a joke, wife."
"And have we got to take it in and keep it?"
"The law doesn't compel us to."
"But--Henry----"
"What is it, wife?"
"Do you suppose--we've never had any children. Do you think we
could----"
"We can do whatever you say, wife," nodded
[Illustration: "Is This the Brother You're Looking For?"]
Mr. Crossleigh. "If you say that you want to----"
Here he came to a pause. The new idea was so wholly strange that he
couldn't grasp it all at once.
Here Hoof Sadby, straining his ears from the distance, judged that it
was high time for him to use his slice of onion. Then his doleful voice
was heard as he came wailing along.
"Why, who's that out there?" cried Mrs. Crossleigh.
"Say, have you got my baby brother!" demanded Hoof, halting at the
gateway, then running forward for a minute. "Some fellers----
"Is this the brother you're looking for?" asked Mr. Crossleigh, stepping
toward Hoof, basket in hand.
"Yes!" snapped Hoof, giving a pretended gulp of joy. But, truth to tell,
he felt so ashamed of himself that he was a poor actor at this moment.
Had the Crossleighs been more suspicious they would have detected
something sham in Hoof's beginning grief and his swift change to joy.
"Oh, thank you, sir," awkwardly sobbed Hoof, taking the basket. "I know
the fellows that did this to me. They think this is a good Hallowe'en
joke."
"I'm glad, boy, that you didn't have a longer hunt," remarked Mr.
Crossleigh. "Good night!"
Then Hoof and the peepers across the way saw Mr. Crossleigh throw an arm
around his wife's waist and draw her into the house, closing the door.
"Say, who said they were cranks?" demanded Greg Holmes, when the abashed
Hallowe'eners had gathered a little way down the street. "Why, those
folks would have been only too glad to take the little shaver in
and----"
"Adopt it," supplied Dan Dalzell.
Truth to tell, Dick and all the Grammar School boys had seen the
beginning of a scene that made their joke look small.
"If I ever catch any fellow trying to sneak the Crossleigh's gate,"
warned Dave loftily, "I'll give that fellow all that's coming his way!"
"They're the right sort of people," confessed Dick. "Fellows, we've all
got to make it our business to see that the Crossleighs are never
bothered again by fellows out for larks. Say, they showed us that
playing a joke with a baby is only a clownish trick, didn't they?"
"I'm going home," announced Hoof. "This little shaver has been out long
enough. It's time he was in his crib."
To this no objection was offered. As Wrecker Lane was near his home he
ran off with the basket, which he tossed into the yard, after which he
overtook his companions.
"What are we going to do, now?" Ben Alvord wanted to know.
"Let's prowl around and see what other Hallowe'eners are doing,"
proposed Dick.
Apparently there was enough going on. The Grammar School boys came
across one party of grown young men who had climbed to the top of a
blacksmith shop and had hoisted a wagon into place on the ridge pole. At
another point they came across a group of High School boys who, with
bricks done up in fancy paper, and with a confectioner's label pasted on
the package, were industriously circulating these sham sweets by tying
the packages to door-knobs, ringing the bells and then hurrying away. In
another part of the town the Grammar School boys came upon a bevy of
schoolgirls engaged in the ancient pastime of "hanging baskets."
In time Dick and the rest of the crowd found themselves down by the
railroad, not far from the railway station. Lights shone out from the
office where the night operator was handling train orders and other
telegrams.
"What can we do here?" demanded Ben Alvord.
"I don't know," returned Dave.
"It's a bad place to play tricks," advised Dick. "Railway people are in
a serious line of business, and they don't stand for much nonsense."
"Green is the night operator, and I don't forget the switching he gave
some of us a year ago," muttered Ben Alvord bitterly.
"What were you doing?" asked Dick.
"Oh, just catching on and off a night freight that was being made up in
the yard."
"And taking a big chance of getting hurt?" asked Dick. "I don't know
that I blame Green much for taking the quickest course he knew of
getting you out of harm's way."
"He had no right to switch us with a stick," insisted Ben.
"You're right he hadn't," spoke up another youngster. "I was there, and
I got some of that switch across my legs, too. Whew! I can feel the
sting yet."
"I guess it's about time that Green heard from us," insisted Ben.
"If I were you I wouldn't do anything around here," advised Dick.
"You're right," nodded Dave. "And I guess, Ben, you fellows didn't get a
bit more than you deserved."
"I'll show old Green whether we did," snapped Ben.
"Don't you think of it," warned Greg Holmes. "It's a serious business to
monkey with railroad property. Besides, anything serious might put in
danger the lives of people traveling on the railroad."
"Oh, keep quiet and do some thinking," retorted young Alvord. "Any of
you fellows that never eat anything but milk, and are 'fraidcats, can
cut out of this. I tell you, I'm going to get hunk with Green, and
fellows with sand, who want to see it, can stay. The milksops can go
home and to bed."
Not a boy stirred away just then. It isn't boy nature to withdraw under
taunts.
"Say, Ben, I'll tell you something you dassent do," dared one of the
boys.
"It'll have to be something pretty big that I don't dare do," boasted
young Alvord.
"Do you dast to pick up a stone and smash one of the red or green lights
over there?"
The lights referred to were the signal lights for passing trains.
"Don't do that!" protested Dick Prescott sharply. "That certainly would
be downright criminal!"
"Milksop!" retorted Ben. "I dast to do anything that I want to."
"I think I dare do anything that's decent," retorted Dick quietly. "But
I don't pretend that I'm brave enough to commit crimes, if you call
breaking the law bravery."
"Crime?" sneered Ben. "Bosh! This is only fun, and getting square with a
man who has been mean to some of us."
"If you don't take Dick's advice, and cut out the trick, you'll be
mighty sorry afterwards," urged Tom Reade. "Come on, fellows. Let's move
along and find some fun that is more decent."
"Babies!" jeered Ben Alvord. "You haven't nerve enough to stand up for
your rights and pay Green back for the way he treats the fellows when he
loses his temper. You're babies! Go on. Those who aren't babies will
stay right here and see what happens."
"You're talking boldly enough, now, Ben Alvord, but you'll be whining
to-morrow, instead. Come on, fellows; let's have nothing to do with the
scheme," cried Dick.
"Babies!" sneered Ben again. "You fellows who want to be classed with
the babies can go. The fellows with nerve can stay right here."
"Come along, then," urged Dick, and he and his chums started away. At
the corner, just before turning up the street that led away from the
railway station Dick turned to see if others than his chums were coming
along. But Dick & Co. proved to be the only ones who had left the scene.
There were others who wanted to go with Dick Prescott, but they didn't
care to risk being taunted with being "babies." So they stood by Ben,
though nervously.
"Do you s'pose we'll get in jail?" whispered one of Ben's followers
nervously.
"Humph! You'd better run along with the babies," jeered Ben Alvord. "I
guess it's time that some of you were in your cradles, anyway."
"Shut up! We're standing by you, aren't we?" Wrecker Lane demanded.
"Are you ready, then?" inquired Ben, glancing around at those who had
stayed with him.
"Yes," replied Toby.
"Now, take good aim!" warned Ben, in a conspirator's tone. "Remember, we
can't wait, this time, for any repeat shots. All you fellows ready?"
"Yes," came the response.
"When I say 'three,' then," ordered Ben. "All ready! One, two, three!"
Through the air whizzed a volley of stones.
Crash! Both the red and the green lights went out, the glass flying in
splinters.
Guessing what had happened, Operator Green dashed out hotfoot in
pursuit.