TOM ON THE TRAIL
In spite of the fact that his sister thought it hard that Tom Cameron
had not returned to the stalled auto by dark, the lad was having no easy
time.
In the first place, he had not run a mile on the road to Severn Corners
when he stepped on a pebble, turned his ankle sharply, and had to hobble
the rest of the way at a much slower pace than he had expected.
All the time, too, Tom was troubled about the uncertainty of there being
at the Corners any repair shop. He knew it was a small settlement. At
most, the repair garage would be very small, and perhaps the mechanic a
mere country "jack-of-all-trades," who would fumble the job.
To obtain a car to drag his own into the town was beyond the boy's
hopes, and when he came at last to a comfortable looking farmhouse some
half a mile that side of the settlement, he determined to see if he
could not obtain a pair of horses from the farmer, to get the car to
the hamlet.
He approached the back door of the house without seeing anybody about.
It was already growing dark, he had hobbled so slowly on the road. As he
stepped upon the porch, Tom heard a sudden furious barking inside the
house.
"Welcome to our city!" he muttered. "If nobody's at home but _that_
savage beast, I'm likely to fare about as Roberto did at that farmhouse
'way back on the road by Culm Falls."
But he ventured to rap upon the door. It was one of those old-fashioned
doors which opens in two parts. The upper half swung outward, but the
lower remained bolted.
Lucky for Tom Cameron this was so. A great, shaggy beast, with gleaming
fangs and slobbering jaws, appeared over the ledge, scratching with his
strong claws to get out at the intruder.
"What do you want?" demanded a shrill voice from somewhere behind the
excited brute. "We ain't got nothin' for tramps."
"I should say you most certainly _had_ something for tramps, Madam,"
said Tom, when he could make himself heard. "Any tramp would run from
that fellow."
"I don't see _you_ running. But you better," advised the woman, who was
thin-faced, scant of hair, and had a voice about as pleasant as a
whip-saw going through a knot.
"But _I_ am not a tramp, I assure you, Madam," said Tom, politely.
"Huh! ye look it," declared the woman, without any politeness at all.
And the boy _did_ look rather dilapidated. He had gotten more than a
little wet in the first of the shower, and he had pawed around among the
"internal arrangements" of the balky auto to such purpose, that he was
disheveled and oil-streaked from head to foot.
"I'm in disguise just now, Ma'am," laughed Tom, cheerfully. "But really,
I have not come begging either food or lodging. Is your husband at
home?"
"Yes, he is. And he'll be here in a minute and chase ye off the
place--ef ye don't scat at once," said the woman, sourly. "_He_ wouldn't
hold back this dog, now, I tell ye."
"Please believe me, Madam," urged Tom, "that I am better than I appear.
Our car broke down on the road yonder, and I have come to see if I can
hire a team of horses to drag it into the Corners."
"Car? What kind of a car? Ain't no railroad here," she said,
suspiciously.
The dog had barked himself breathless by now and they could talk a
little easier. Tom smiled, as he replied:
"Our motor car--automobile."
"Huh! why didn't ye say so?" she demanded. "Tryin' to fool me. It's bad
enough ter drive one o' them abominations over people's roads, but
tryin' to make out ye air on a train--though, land o' Goshen! some of ye
make 'em go as fast as airy express I ever see. Wal! what about your
ortermobile?"
"It's broken down," said Tom, feeling that he had struck the wrong
house, after all, if he expected help.
"I'm 'tarnal glad of it!" snapped the farmer's wife. "Nuthin' could
please me better. Las' time I went to town one o' them plagued nuisances
come hootin' erlong an' made the old mare back us clean inter the
ditch--an' I broke a dozen an' a ha'f of aigs right in the lap of my new
bombazeen dress. Drat 'em all, I say!"
"I am very sorry, Ma'am, that the accident occurred. But I can assure
you I was not the cause of it," Tom said, quietly, and stifling a great
desire to laugh. "I wish only to get your husband to help me with his
team--and I will pay him well."
"Huh! what d'ye call well?" she demanded. "A boy like you ain't likely
to have much money."
Thus brought to a "show down," Tom promptly pulled out his billcase and
opened it in the light that streamed out of the doorway. The woman could
see that he carried quite a bundle of notes--and that they were not all
single dollar bills!
"Land o' Goshen!" she ejaculated. "Where'd you steal all that money, ye
young ruffian? I thought there was suthin' mighty bad about you when I
fust set eyes on ye."
This was a compliment that Tom Cameron had not been looking for! He was
certainly taken aback at the woman's words, and before he could make any
response, she raised her voice and began to shout for "Sam!"
"Crickey!" thought the boy, "I hope Sam will have a better opinion of me
than she does, or I'm likely to get into trouble."
He began to back off the porch, and had his ankle not pained him so, he
certainly would have set off on a run. Perhaps it is well he did not try
this, however, for the woman cried:
"You move a step off'n thet platform before Sam Blodgett comes an' I'll
open the lower ha'f of this door and let the dawg loose on ye!"
Then she bawled for her husband again, and pretty soon a shouted
response came from the direction of the barns. Then a lantern flickered
and swung, and Tom knew the man was coming toward the house.
He appeared--a short, heavy-set man, barefooted, and with a pail of milk
in one hand and the lantern in the other.
"What's the matter, Sairy?" he demanded.
"Who's this?"
"Thet's what _I_ wanter know," snapped the woman. "It 'pears like he's
one o' these runaway boys ye read about in the papers--an' he's stole
some money."
"I haven't either!" cried Tom, in some exasperation. "I don't have to
steal money--or anything else, I hope. I showed her that I had some
money, so that she would believe I could pay you for some work I wanted
done----"
"What work?" interposed the farmer.
Tom told him about the stalled auto and what he wanted.
"How much'll ye give?" shot in the farmer, right to the point.
"What do you ask to drag the machine to town--to the Corners, I mean?"
"If it's where ye say it is, ten dollars!"
"All right," agreed the boy. "Your wife knows I have the money. I'll pay
you when we get to the Corners."
"I know ye got the money," said the woman. "But I don't know _how_ ye
got it. And if you've got an ortermobile, too, I bet ye stole _that_!"
"You hesh up, Sairy," advised Mr. Blodgett. "No need of your sp'ilin' a
trade. Gimme my supper. I'll hafter eat b'fore I go with ye, young
man."
"Oh, all right," sighed Tom, remembering how the girls must be very much
frightened by this time.
The man tramped into the house with the milk and the lantern. Neither he
nor his wife asked Tom inside--or mentioned supper to him. The woman put
it steaming on the table and Tom--like the dog--might stand and look on.
At last the farmer was finished. "Guess the team's eat by now," he
remarked, and came out with the lantern hung on his arm. All this time
the dog had had "fits and starts" of wanting to get at Tom and eat him
up. Now he slipped past his master and ran at the visitor with a savage
growl.
The boy had no idea of being made the supper of the brute, no matter how
hungry Fido might be. So he kicked out and barely touched him. Instantly
the brute set up a terrible "ki-yi-ing!" and shot off the porch and
disappeared into the darkness. Evidently the Blodgetts kept the animal
for its bark, for it did not have the pluck of a woodchuck!
"Come on," advised Sam, as the woman began to rail again. "She's wound
up an' ain't likely to run down again for a week. You sure you wanter
pay ten dollars for this job?"
"I'm sure I _will_ pay that for it, whether I want to or not," declared
Tom, with confidence.
"Aw right. We'll be movin'. Maybe another shower by'm'by, an' I sha'n't
wanter be out in it."
"We'll go just as fast as you want to," said Tom, hobbling along to the
stables. "I won't keep you back, Mr. Blodgett."
"You're lame, I see," said the man, not unkindly. "You kin straddle one
of the hosses if you like."
Tom was glad enough to do this, and in a few minutes they were going
back over the dark track Tom had come, the harness jingling from the
horses' hames, and Mr. Blodgett trudging sturdily along by the animals'
heads.
They came to the top of the ridge from which the stalled car had last
been seen by Tom. "There are the lights!" he cried.
He was glad to see them. They shone cheerfully in the dark, and he had
no idea that the girls were in any trouble.
But when they got down to the bottom of the hill there was neither sign
nor sound of the two girls. Tom shouted at the top of his voice. He
searched the car all over for some written word. He saw that the girls
had carried off only their own personal belongings and nothing else.
What could it mean? Surely no thieves had come this way, or the car
would have been stripped of everything portable, and of value. At
least, so it seemed to Master Tom. He was not wise enough to suspect
that the goods in the car had been left alone to mislead him. The
Gypsies had been after bigger game than a few dollars' worth of auto
furnishings.
"Come now!" exclaimed Sam Blodgett. "I can't wait here all night. I only
agreed to drag the car ter town."
"But where could those girls have gone? My sister and Ruth Fielding?"
"Ye ain't payin' me ter be no detectif," drawled the man. "Come! Shell I
hitch on?"
"Oh, yes! I don't know what else to do," groaned the boy. "I've got to
get the car fixed first of all. Then I will find help and follow the
girls."
The farmer was as unsympathetic as a man possibly could be. He started
the car and let Tom ride in it. But he had no word of advice to give
about the absent girls.
Perhaps, like his wife, he believed that Tom was not honest, that the
car was stolen, and that Tom's companions were mythical!
They rolled into Severn Corners at ten o'clock. Of course, in a hamlet
of that kind, there was scarcely a light burning. Tom had learned from
Blodgett that the local blacksmith sometimes "monkeyed with ortermobiles
that come erlong busted."
So he had the farmer draw the car to the door of the blacksmith shop.
"Sim lives right next door, there," said Blodgett, preparing to depart.
"Mebbe ye kin wake him up an' convince him he'd oughter mend yer
contraption in the middle of the night. But Sim Peck is constable, too,
so mebbe ye won't keer ter trouble him," and the farmer drove away with
a chuckle.
This news was, however, important to Tom. A constable was just about the
man he most wanted to see. It had dawned on the boy's mind that his
sister and Ruth had gotten into trouble, and he must find help for them.
The street of the village was dark. This was one of the nights when the
moon was booked to shine, but forgot to! The town fathers evidently lit
the street lights only when the almanac said there was to be no moon.
Tom removed one of the headlights and found his way to the door of the
cottage next to the smithy. There was neither bell nor knocker, but he
thundered at the panel with right good will, until he heard a stir in a
chamber above. Finally a blind opened a little way and a sleepy voice
inquired what he wanted.
"Are you the blacksmith, sir?" asked Tom.
"Huh? Wal! I should say I was. But I ain't no doctor," snarled the man
above, "and I ain't in the habit of answering night calls. Don't ye see
I ain't got no night bell? Go away! you're actin' foolish. I don't shoe
hosses this time o' night."
"It's not a horse," explained Tom, near laughter despite his serious
feelings. "It's a motor-car."
"Naw, I don't shoe no ortermobile, neither!" declared the man, and
prepared to close the blind.
"Say, Mister!" shouted Tom. "Do come down. I need you----"
"If I come down thar, I won't come as no blacksmith, nor no mechanic.
I'll come as the constable and run ye in--ye plaguey whipper-snapper!"
"All right," cried Tom, fearing he would shut the blind. "Come down as
constable. I reckon I need you in that character more than any other."
"I believe ye do!" exclaimed the man, angrily. "If you air there when I
git on my pants, you'll take a walk to the callaboose. None o' you young
city sports air goin' to disturb the neighborhood like this--not if I
know it!"
Meanwhile, Tom could hear him stirring around, tumbling over the chairs
in the dark, and growling at his boots, and otherwise showing his anger.
But the boy was desperate, and he stood still until the man
appeared--tin star pinned to his vest.
"Wal, by gravey!" exclaimed the blacksmith-constable. "Ain't you a
reckless youngster ter face up the majesty of the law in this here way?"
Tom saw that, after all, the constable was grinning, and was not such an
ill-natured fellow, now that he was really awake. The boy plunged into
his story and told it with brevity, but in detail.
"Why, I see how it is, youngster," said the man. "You're some scart
about your sister and that other girl. But mebbe nothing's happened 'em
at all."
"But where have they gone?"
"I couldn't tell you. We'll make search. But we've got to have something
to travel in, and if it don't take too long to fix your auto, we'll
travel in _that_."
Of course, this was good sense, and Tom saw it, impatient as he was. The
constable laid aside the vest with the badge of office upon it, and the
blacksmith proceeded to open his forge and light a fire and a lantern.
Then he listened to Tom's explanation of what had happened to the car,
and went to work.
Fortunately the damage was not serious, and the blacksmith was not a bad
mechanic. Therefore, in an hour and a half he closed the smithy again,
removing his apron, and the constable donned his vest and got into the
car beside the troubled Tom.
"Now let her out, son!" advised the official. "You've got all the law
with ye that there is in this section, and ye kin go as fast as ye
please."
Tom needed no urging. He shot the repaired car over the road at a pace
that would have made his sister and her chum scream indeed!
Once at the bottom of the hill where the car had been stalled, they
stopped and got out, each taking a lantern by the constable's advice.
Blodgett and his horses had done their best to trample out the girls'
footsteps, but there had been no other vehicle along the road, and the
searchers managed to find footprints of the girls at one side.
"Sure them's them?" asked Mr. Peck.
"You can see they are not the prints of men's shoes," said Tom,
confidently.
"Right ye air! And here's another woman's shoe--only larger. They went
away with some woman, that's sure."
"A woman?" muttered Tom, greatly amazed. "Whoever could she be--and
where have they gone with her?"