A PLAN FOR A CAPTURE
The words used were those which Ike Slosson had often uttered when folks
of that neighborhood came around his house and he did not wish to
entertain them. As Joel Runnell had said, the old man was very peculiar
and at times he refused utterly to see even those he knew to be his
friends. For strangers he had no welcome whatever. He knew old Runnell,
however, and had treated him better than he had many another man. The
hunter had once given him some fine rabbits and a partridge, and this
had won Ike Slosson’s heart.
Joel Runnell halted, but did not retreat. The shuffling of several pairs
of feet had not escaped his sharp ears, and now those ears told him that
it was not Ike Slosson who was speaking, but somebody who was trying, in
a crude manner, to imitate the hermit.
“I say, go away!” came in the same voice. “I want no strangers here.”
“Whose place is this?” asked old Runnell, calmly.
“It is my place, and I want you to go away, or I’ll set the dog on you.”
This reply made Joel Runnell smile to himself, for he knew very well
that Ike Slosson despised dogs and would never have one near him.
“Who are you?”
“Never mind who I am. I want you to go away.”
“Won’t you sell me a supper?”
“No. I have hardly enough for myself.”
“I’ll pay you well.”
“Can’t help it. I have nothing to sell. Now go away, or I’ll put out the
dog.”
“Don’t send out your dog; I’ll go,” cried Joel Runnell, in pretended
alarm, and then turning, he made his way to the shelter of the trees.
“How did you make out?” whispered Joe.
“Hush! don’t speak,” said the old hunter, warningly. “Crawl back, or
somebody may see you.”
The boys moved to a safe place, and then clustered around the old hunter
for information. Joel Runnell was chuckling quietly to himself.
“Thought they’d play a joke on me, didn’t they?” he said. “But I’ll soon
have the boot on the other leg.”
“What do you mean?” asked Harry.
The old hunter then told of what had been said. “It wasn’t Ike Slosson
who was speaking at all,” he added. “It was some other man, and his
voice was thick with liquor. I’ve a notion those fellows have done
something to Slosson and taken possession of his house and all of his
goods and money.”
“Can they have killed the old man?” asked Link, in quick alarm.
Joel Runnell shrugged his shoulders. “There is no telling.”
“Let us rush out, surround the house, and capture the rascals,” came
from Bart.
“Hurrah!” shouted Teddy, enthusiastically. “Sure an’ we’ll have a
regular Donnybrook Fair, such as me father often tells about.”
“No! no!” answered old Runnell. “Some of you would be sure to get shot
or hurt in some way.”
“But we came for the express purpose of catching those tramps,” cried
Joe. “I’m not afraid to tackle them.”
“We are seven to three,” said Fred. “Perhaps they’ll surrender, when
they see how many there are of us.”
“Not if they have done something to Ike Slosson, lad. They’ll fight hard
to get away. I have another plan. Five of us can watch the house while
the other two tramp to the nearest village and get some officers. Then
we can pounce on ’em while they are asleep.”
This was considered excellent advice, and it was speedily decided that
Harry and Bart were to go to the village of Bralham, two miles away. The
others were to surround the house and keep a close watch so that none of
those inside could escape.
The sun had now set and it was quite dark by the time Harry and Bart
struck the road leading to Bralham, a place consisting of half a dozen
houses, a store and a grist mill. What help they could muster at such a
place was still a question.
“Perhaps nobody will care to take hold with us,” observed Harry, as they
trudged along. “Some of these country constables are mighty afraid of
their hides, when it comes to catching a criminal.”
There was no moon, but countless stars shone in the dear sky, making the
path fairly light. All was very quiet, until directly over their heads
an owl let out a mournful hoot.
“Oh!” cried Bart, and leaped back several feet. “What was that?”
“An owl,” answered Harry, with a laugh.
“How he scared me.”
They could not see the owl, or Bart might have taken a shot at the
creature. The scare made the lad nervous, and he trembled a little as
they continued on their journey.
“I don’t know as I should care to walk this road alone at night,” he
said. “I am glad we live in the town and not out in the country or in
the woods.”
“I fancy it is what one gets used to, Bart. I’ve heard it said a
countryman can’t sleep in the city for the noise, and some city folks
can’t sleep in the country because it’s too quiet.”
“Yes, I’ve heard that, too. But I think—Oh, my, what was that?”
Both boys halted as some dark object passed across the road a couple of
rods in front of them. What the object was they could not discern.
“I guess it was a rabbit or else a fox,” said Harry, as lightly as he
could. “Come on.”
“Could it have been a—a bear?”
“No, it wasn’t large enough for that. Come on,” and now Harry urged Bart
along. A little while after this they came within sight of the light in
a farmhouse kitchen, and then both boys felt much relieved.
Going up to the door of the house they knocked, and a burly farmer
answered their summons.
“Good evening,” said Harry, politely.
“Good evening, lad, what can I do for you?” questioned the farmer,
gazing at both boys curiously. He saw that they had guns, but no game,
and concluded they were hungry and wanted supper.
“Will you tell us where we can find a constable, or some other officer?”
“Want a constable, eh? Did somebody steal your game?” And the farmer
smiled, quizzically.
“No, we want the constable to arrest three tramps who are wanted for
stealing.”
“Shoo! You don’t say!” Farmer Libby was all attention. “Where are the
tramps?”
“Over to Ike Slosson’s house. They have taken full possession.”
“Where is Slosson?”
“We don’t know. The tramps must have done something to him.”
“I always said somethin’ would happen to Ike,” put in the farmer’s wife.
“It hain’t human for him to be a-livin’ alone as he does. Samuel, you
must help in this.”
“Guess I must,” said Samuel Libby. “But I’ll have to tell Constable
Peabody, and big Jim Bowman, too. Jim’s a powerful fellow when there’s
trouble to be met.”
The farmer wanted the two boys to tell their tale, and they did so
without delay. While they talked he put on his overcoat and got down his
shotgun; and five minutes later all three were on their way to where
Constable Peabody resided, in the center of the village.