Scout Master Hall was right when he said Alvin Landon and Chester Haynes
would not waste a minute in carrying out the task he had given them.
They were determined to secure the arrest of the men who it was believed
had kidnapped the little daughter of Doctor Spellman, before they could
leave that section. In addition, they aimed to get the help of George
Burton and his bloodhound.
This last was far more important than the other, and would insure the
discovery of the fate of the child. If Zip was allowed to take the scent
within twenty-four hours after she left home—and possibly a little
later—he would never lose it.
It was four miles over the rough broken trace to the highway, and then
two more of smoother traveling would bring them to the straggling town
of Bovil, where they hoped to secure telephonic communication with
Boothbay Harbor and other near by towns. If that could be done, they
could reach Samoset Hotel, on Mouse Island, by the same means. It would
be like young Burton to start at once. He could be taken quickly across
to Boothbay in a motor-boat, where he knew the right course to follow,
since he had been over it with Zip. He would have to ascend the
Sheepscot and walk three miles to reach Bovil, but if a midnight start
was made, he ought to reach the village at daylight and soon after.
It was between eleven and twelve o’clock that Alvin and Chester came in
sight of the score of buildings which make up the village of Bovil. When
they passed through it on their way to Gosling Lake, they paid so slight
attention that they could not recall whether it had an inn. Vastly to
their delight, however, they came upon the old-fashioned structure near
the center of the place, and it was the only one in which a light was
burning.
“That’s luck,” said Alvin, as the two ascended the steps, pushed open
the door and entered the roomy office, with its unpainted desk, broad
fireplace where no wood was burning, a bench without any back, several
rickety chairs, and showy posters on the walls for the information of
travelers by boat or rail.
Staring around the room, by the dim light of the kerosene lamp suspended
from the middle of the ceiling, the youths at first saw no person, but
heavy breathing directed attention to a settee at the other side, upon
which a young man was stretched at full length, with his coat doubled
under him for a pillow. He was the model watchman, who was aroused only
by vigorous shaking. By and by he glumly assumed a sitting posture, and
blinked at the disturbers.
“What do you want?” he demanded sourly.
“Can you get us a room?”
“’Spose so. Why didn’t you come earlier?”
“Because we came later,” replied Chester; “have you got a telephone in
the house?”
“’Course we have,—what of it?”
“We want to use it at once to call up Boothbay Harbor.”
“This ain’t no time to bother with such things; you’ll have to wait till
morning. What bus’ness had you to wake me up?”
“See here,” said Alvin, who was in no mood for trifling, “we have come a
good many miles to reach a telephone; this is a case of life and death;
we haven’t a minute to spare.”
“Don’t make no difference; you’ll have to wait till to-morrer morning.”
“Give me the number of the Chief of police at Boothbay.”
As Alvin made the peremptory request, he slipped two silver half dollars
into the bony hand of the young man. This effected the purpose intended.
He became wide awake on the instant, stepped briskly to the desk, caught
up the receiver of the instrument, asked and answered several questions,
and after a brief wait, nodded to Alvin, who with Chester stood at his
elbow.
“Here you are,” he said, passing the receiver to the former; “Art
Spofford is the chief of police at Boothbay, and he’s at t’other end of
the wire.”
Artemus Spofford, or “Art” as he is called by every one, was courteous,
and replied that no tramps had been seen in town for several weeks, but
he and his officers would be on the alert and arrest and hold any
vagrants answering the description. Not only that, but he volunteered to
communicate with the neighboring towns and see that every possible
precaution was taken.
“Leave it to me,” he added; “don’t mix in; I can attend to it better
than you; how shall I reach you, if we scoop in the gentlemen?”
It was agreed that Art should ’phone to Bovil, where some of the Boy
Scouts would call at intervals of a few hours to get any message left
for them. This arrangement was the most convenient for all concerned.
It took some trying minutes for Alvin to get Hotel Samoset on Mouse
Island. It looked as if Everett Ham, the night clerk, was also asleep at
his post, but I must not do the faithful young man that injustice. He
responded after a time, and an understanding was speedily reached.
“Is George Burton staying at your hotel?”
“Yes; he has been here for a week.”
“Please call him to the ’phone as quickly as you can; this is of the
utmost importance; don’t delay for a moment.”
“Hold the wire.”
With his ear to the receiver, Alvin Landon plainly heard by means of the
marvelous invention the hurrying footfalls of Clerk Ham as he dashed out
of the office, along the hall and upstairs to rouse Burton. Sooner than
was expected he was back at the instrument.
“Hello! are you there?” he called.
“Yes; where is Burton?”
“He isn’t in the hotel.”
The boys were dumfounded for the moment.
“You are sure of that?”
“Yes; I’ve been to his room; he isn’t there; then I remembered he went
off two days ago and hasn’t been back since.”
“Didn’t he leave any word as to where he was going?”
“He never does; he and that dog of his are on the tramp all the time.”
“Then you can’t help me to locate him?”
“I wish I could; there’s only two things he’s fond of,—that is scouting
through the country with that dog of his, and going to clambakes. Capt.
Free McKown says he’s looney on clambakes and eats as much as any two
men.”
“Well, Mr. Ham, will you be good enough to give a message to Burton the
first minute you see him?”
“I surely will.”
“Tell him to make all haste to his uncle on Gosling Lake—Got that? That
their little girl is lost, and her parents are distracted with
grief—Get that? And they beg him to come as quickly as he can—Get
that?”
Ham repeated the substance of the words, and then rang off.
“We may as well go to bed,” said Chester to the clerk, who had sauntered
back to the settee and sat down. He lighted a tallow candle and led them
upstairs to a roomy apartment, where he bade them good night, pausing at
the door long enough to say:
“There’s only one other chap staying with us; he’s at t’other end of the
hall. Do you want me to call you in the morning?”
“No; we shall wake early.”
“That’s a bad setback,” said Chester dejectedly, as the two began
preparing for bed; “we never dreamed that Burton would be away from
Mouse Island.”
“And with not the remotest idea of where to look for him. He left his
uncle’s house this forenoon, and may be miles inland, without our being
able to get track of him for a week. I can’t help feeling that Zip is
the only one that can solve the puzzle, and it won’t take him long to do
so.”
“No one who knows the dog can doubt that. If Sunbeam has managed to fall
into the lake, he will lead us to the spot. If those scamps have stolen
her, she will be found within an hour or two,—and then may the Lord
have mercy on them!”
“Chest, do you believe they are mixed up in this business?”
“I can’t help suspecting it.”
“I don’t, even though their hanging about Doctor Spellman’s home has a
bad look. Those kidnappings are done in the cities,—not in the open
country like this; and then think for a moment of the conditions. For
two tousled bums to steal a little girl, and compel her father to pay a
ransom for her,—here in the Maine woods, within a few miles of Boothbay
Harbor,—why the thing is preposterous.”
“Has it occurred to you that they may be connected with others? They may
be agents of the Mafia or Camorra or some regularly organized gang of
kidnappers.”
This was new to Alvin, and disturbed him painfully. What was improbable
about it? The persistency of Biggs and Hutt in prowling about the lake
suggested a strong motive,—such as that of earning a big reward through
the commission of some such crime as indicated.
“I tell you, Chest, none of us has gone the right way about this
business. Suppose Chief Spofford or some other officer succeeds in
arresting the two tramps, what good will it do? They are not such fools
as to walk into a town with a little girl in their charge. They would be
called to account on sight without any request from her friends. As we
agreed, we must pin our faith on the bloodhound, and we may not find him
for days, when the trail will be so cold that even he cannot follow it.”
The two felt that for the present they were at the end of their rope.
They had done all they could to set the wheels in motion for the arrest
of the tramps who were under suspicion, and the dread was strong with
them that if such arrest could be brought about it would affect nothing.
Any plan for the kidnapping of the little girl would be so cunningly
laid by master minds that their agents would never walk into a trap, no
matter how skilfully set.
“We must find Burton and his dog,” was the last remark of Alvin. His
companion murmured assent and then the two sank into the sleep of
weariness and sound health, because of which they did not awake until
the young man who had received them the night before hammered on the
door and shouted that breakfast would be ready in ten minutes.
With self-reproaches they bounded out of bed, hurried through their
preparations, and went down stairs two steps at a time. The meal was on
the table, and for the moment they were the only guests, with the young
man referred to acting as waiter.
The boys had hardly seated themselves when through the open door entered
a third guest, accompanied by a black, sturdy, long-eared dog, and the
name of the youth was George Burton and that of his canine companion
Zip.