OFF AGAIN
The boys soon found themselves mixed up in another part of the crowd,
that had, apparently, come down a side street leading to the lake front.
They had some trouble disengaging themselves from it, and, when they
again had a fairly clear street to run through, they were some distance
from the fire.
"Did we lose 'em?" asked Fenn, panting from the run.
"What? Who?" asked Frank, who did not exactly understand the cause for
the sudden retreat.
"Those two--pickpockets," replied Fenn, not knowing exactly how to
classify the strange men.
"Here comes a couple of fellows on the run," said Ned. "I guess they're
still after us. Let's wait and ask what they want. They haven't any
right to follow us."
"No, no!" urged Fenn. "Come on back to the steamer."
He seemed so much in earnest that his chums did not stop to ask
questions, but increased their speed. Just as they reached the wharf,
at the end of which the _Modoc_ was tied, another fire engine,
hastening to the elevator blaze, dashed by.
There was a quick clanging of the gong, and a shrill screech from the
whistle. It was instantly followed by a shout.
"The engine struck one of the men!" cried Frank, looking back. "He's
knocked down! Run over I guess! Come on back!"
The boys hesitated. They did not want to leave an injured man, even if
he and his companion had been pursuing them. The street, at this point,
was deserted, save for the two strangers. The engine did not stop, the
horses being urged on by the driver, who did not want to have the
reputation of arriving last at the conflagration.
"Come on back and help him," urged Bart, who was always anxious to aid
persons in distress, even if they were enemies.
The others hesitated. It was rather a risk, Fenn thought. But the
problem was solved for them. The man who had been knocked down by the
engine arose to his feet. Supporting himself on the shoulder of his
companion he limped off up the street, and away from the boys.
"I guess he isn't badly hurt," remarked Ned. "He'll not chase us any
more. That engine came along just in time."
"Except I guess it's too late to help put out the fire," said Frank.
"There can't be much left of the elevator."
"But what did we run for?" asked Ned. "Who were those chaps, Fenn?"
Fenn explained what he had heard, and expressed the belief that the men
had some business enmity against Mr. Hayward.
"They seemed delighted that the elevator, containing his grain, burned
down; or at least the one man did," he said. "Then, when they saw I was
listening, though I didn't really intend to, they acted as though they
wanted to get hold of me, and see why I was so interested. I thought
they might be pickpockets, but now I don't believe they were."
"We must tell Captain Wiggs about it," suggested Frank.
"I don't believe I will," answered Fenn. "I don't want him to laugh at
me, and I think he surely will if I suggest that the men chased us.
He'll probably think we took two harmless citizens for burglars. No, I
think the best plan will be to wait and see what turns up."
"I'll tell you what you can do," spoke Ned.
"What?" inquired Fenn.
"You can ask Captain Wiggs who owned that grain in the burned elevator.
He'll know, as he was going to get a load there."
"Good idea," responded Fenn. "I will."
The boys were soon aboard the ship again. They found that the men in the
rowboat had returned, as the side of the elevator nearest the lake had
all burned away, and their hose was no longer effective. The fire was
under control now, but was still blazing well. Enough engines had arrived
to prevent it spreading.
"Well, this knocks my plans all askew," remarked the commander of the
_Modoc_, when the boys came on deck. "I don't know where to get my
grain, now."
"Did you say the same company that owned this steamer owned that grain?"
asked Fenn, seeing a good chance to obtain the information he wanted.
"No, I said they owned the elevator," replied the captain. "The grain is
a separate matter. I don't know whose that was. Whoever it belonged to
won't get much good from it."
"Is there any way of telling who owned it?" asked Fenn, for he thought,
even though the men had mentioned the name "Hayward," that it might be
some other man than the one injured in the auto accident--some one else
than the father of Ruth.
"Why, I can tell by looking at my order slips," replied Mr. Wiggs. "Why
are you so interested?"
"I was wondering if it was any one I knew," answered Fenn, a little
evasively, as he did not want to explain what had happened.
"Um--let's see," and Captain Wiggs who, followed by the boys had gone to
the main cabin, began thumbing over the pages of a small book he took
from his pocket. "'Proceed to'--no, that's not it--'take cargo'--um--no,
it must be on the next page--Oh, yes, here it is. 'Get cargo of grain at
Lakeville, from Robert Hayward Company.' That's it. The grain belonged
to Robert Hayward--why--er--say, boys, that's the name of the man who
was hurt back there in Darewell--he and his daughter Ruth--you know
him--why, Fenn, he was at your house!"
"So he was!" exclaimed Fenn, his knowledge thus unexpectedly confirmed.
"Quite a remarkable coincidence!" went on the Captain. "Very strange!
Well, strange things are always happening. You didn't hear what started
the fire, did you?"
"I heard a policeman say it was spontaneous combustion," said Frank,
"but they always give that as a cause, when they can't think of any
other."
"I don't s'pose they'll ever find out," remarked the captain. "Well, I
can't do anything more. We'd better turn in, although it's most morning.
Soon as it gets daylight I'll have to hustle around and find out what
I'm going to do."
Captain Wiggs was a very busy man the next day, sending messages to the
steamer's owners to ascertain their wishes. The boys visited the
elevator, in which great piles of grain were still smouldering, in
spite of the tons of water poured on them. Fenn kept a lookout for the
mysterious men, but did not see anything of them.
Captain Wiggs had to remain tied up at Lakeville until he received
orders to proceed to the next port for a cargo that would be awaiting
him there. The boys spent the time on shore, visiting various scenes of
interest.
"Well, we're off again!" cried the commander, on the morning of the
third day, as he came hurrying down the dock, waving a telegram in his
hand. "Tying-up is no fun. You may get under way as soon as possible,
Mr. Sidleton," he added to the first mate.
Steam was up, and, in a short time the _Modoc_ was again plowing the
waters of Lake Erie. Gradually Lakeville was left behind, and soon they
were out of sight of land.
"Ding-dong! Ding-dong! Ding-dong! Ding-dong!"
A bell suddenly sounded, with queer double strokes.
"Eight bells!" exclaimed Captain Wiggs, as he arose from a deck chair
where he had been sitting, to the boys. "Time for mess," and he led the
way toward the dining saloon.
As he was about to descend the companionway he looked over the rail.
Astern of the _Modoc_ was a small steam yacht, coming on at a swift
speed.
"That's queer," murmured the captain.
"What is?" asked Fenn, for the boys were privileged characters.
"That yacht," replied the commander. "She's been following us all the
morning; ever since we left Lakeville. I wonder what the game is?
Steward, bring me the glass," he called, and, when the binoculars were
handed to him, the captain took a long look at the pursuing craft.