A STRANGE ADVENTURE
Joe Dale was a credit to the family. Although only a boy in his tenth
year, he possessed as much manliness as many another well in the teens.
He was tall, and of the dark type, while Dorothy was not quite so tall,
and had fair hair; so that, in spite of the difference of their ages,
Joe was often considered Dorothy's big brother. Roger was just a pretty
baby, so plump and with such golden curls! Dorothy had pleaded not to
have them cut until his next birthday, but the boys, of course, thought
seven years very old for long hair.
"Only for a few months more," the sister had coaxed, and, so the curls
were kept. Dorothy always arranged them herself, telling fairy stories
to conceal the time consumed in making the ringlets.
Both boys were to sell papers to-day, for the Bugle was out, and
Dorothy had told her brothers of the necessity for extra efforts to
help with money matters.
"You may go with one of the regular boys," Ralph Willoby instructed
them. "He can tell you where you would be likely to get customers. Go
into all the stores, of course, and look out for the mill hands, at
noon time."
"I'll sell Bugles to-day," declared Joe, with that splendid manliness
and real earnestness that makes a boy so attractive, especially to his
sister.
"It takes a boy," Dorothy said proudly, as her brothers left the
office, each with his bundle of papers, for, of course, Roger had to
have a strap full the same as did Joe. Ralph was glancing over the
paper. Evidently he was pleased with its appearance, for his face
showed satisfaction.
"Is it all right?" Dorothy asked, secretly glad the "getting out" was
finished, and that she would not have to write another parade story
that day.
"First-rate," answered the young man, "and I think your father will be
pleased. You had better go home and take him a copy, he may be anxious
to see one."
"I'll go now," she told Ralph, "and I'll be back about noon, when the
boys come in from their routes."
Dorothy passed out, and closed the door after her. Ralph went to the
far end of the office, to finish folding the papers. Scarcely had he
taken one sheet in his hand than he heard something in the hall.
A scream! And in Dorothy's voice!
Darting past the big press, and making his way to the hall door quickly
in spite of the things that barred his path, Ralph pulled open the
portal.
The girls were in a heap on the steps! Dorothy and Tavia.
The young man bent down anxiously. The pair seemed unusually still.
"Fainted!" he murmured, trying to lift Dorothy's head.
"Is he--go--gone?" whispered Tavia. "We are not hurt. We only made
believe!"
"Oh!" sighed Dorothy. "I feel as if I were dying! I--I can't breathe!"
"Try to get on your feet," commanded Ralph. "The air will revive you!"
"There!" gasped Tavia. "There's his hat. I grabbed it when he put the
handkerchief, with some stuff on it, to my nose," and the girl held up
a gray slouch hat, the kind western men usually wear.
"That may help us," said Ralph. "But first you must both come down to
the drug store. That stuff he used may sicken you. It has a queer
smell."
Once on their feet the girls seemed all right, in fact as Tavia said,
they had only "made believe" to prevent any further violence.
It seemed incredible that two girls should be way-laid in broad
daylight, in the hall of the most public building in Dalton, but the
fact was certainly plain--there was the dirty white handkerchief
reeking with some drug, and besides, there was the hat that Tavia had
taken from the man's head.
Ralph took the girls into the prescription room of the drug store, to
see if they needed any attention, and there to the astonished drug
clerk, as well as to the equally astonished proprietor, Tavia tried to
relate what had happened.
"It was the same man who grabbed my papers the other day," she said. "I
saw him first as I came along William street. Joe and Roger had just
gone in Beck's with their papers, and as I saw the man watching them I
was afraid he might kidnap Roger. I was just thinking who would be best
to call, when he caught me watching him, and then, like a flash, he
sprang into that saloon at the corner. I thought he was frightened lest
he would be caught, and I hurried down here to warn Dorothy. Well, no
sooner had I put my foot inside the hall than he darted at me--"
"Where did he come from?" asked the drug store proprietor.
"Probably through the alley that leads from the saloon to the end of
our building," explained Ralph. "He could easily dash into the hall
from there."
"He was after papers," declared Tavia, "for just as he grabbed me he
saw Dorothy. I was going to scream when he put that queer-smelling
stuff to my nose."
"I screamed when I saw Tavia," ventured the frightened Dorothy, "but he
had me almost before I could open--my--mouth. Tavia squeezed my hand
and I knew she meant for me to be quiet."
"And if you had not closed your eyes he might have given you another
dose," added Tavia, who somehow, seemed to know more than any one else
about the wicked ways of the mysterious stranger.
"But how did he manage to get away so promptly?" asked one of the men,
trying to get on the track for capture.
"Through that same alley into the saloon," Ralph said. "I will go at
once, and have the place searched."
"As soon as he got the papers Dorothy had he went off," finished Tavia,
"just as he did when he got my notes."
Leaving the girls to quiet themselves in the drug store, all the men,
except the head clerk, started out to give the alarm.
This time a thorough search should be made, and even a reward offered
by the town for the capture of the coward who went about trying to
frighten helpless girls. There was certainly some hidden motive in his
actions, as he had, each time, made an attack on some one connected
with the Bugle's business, and the men quickly concluded his intentions
had to do with an attempt to stop the Liquor Crusade.
Miles Burlock also figured in the case they decided, although how this
stranger was mixed up in matters relating to Burlock, and what
connection Mrs. Douglass' death could have with such affairs, was not
plain.
The druggist warned Dorothy and Tavia not to tell their experience to
any one, not even to the folks at home, for, he argued the stranger
might get to hear they were after him, and so escape.
Dorothy readily agreed to keep silent, in fact it would not do for any
one in her home to know of her experience, as the major was too ill to
be worried, but Tavia did not see why her father should not be
acquainted with the affair, as he always knew what to do. And why
should other men be allowed to search for the man who had threatened
her, when it was plainly her own father's special privilege?
"Well, if you feel that way about it," agreed the druggist, "tell your
father to come down here to-night and perhaps he will be put on the
committee."
This was quite satisfactory to Tavia, and after making sure that no
more strangers lurked about, the girls made their way home.
"I never was afraid in daylight before," remarked Dorothy, whose face
was still pale from the fright. "Let us hurry. There are the boys. Be
sure not to say anything to them about the scare."
"Hurrah!" shouted Joe swinging his empty strap. "All sold out."
"Me too," said little Roger, who had his strap buckled so tightly about
his fat waist, that he had hard work to breathe under the pressure.
"Hip--hip--" answered Tavia, continuing:
"Blow Bugle, blow,
Blow Bugle blow,
We're very proud
You blew so loud
To let the people know."
"Price five cents! Order now! That's the way city people put things in
the papers about their goods," declared Tavia. "I think when I leave
school I'll look for work in a newspaper office."
"Ralph said you did splendidly," said Dorothy, "I'm sure I never could
have gotten along without you. But we are home now and--"
"No paper for the major," finished Tavia.
"There's a boy. I'll get one," said Joe, running off at full speed to
overtake the newsboy, who had just turned the corner.
"Aunt Libby may be cross," whispered Dorothy, "for she has been all
alone, and this being Saturday she would expect help."
"Mother won't say anything to me," Tavia decided, "for--well, I have
something to tell her that will make her forget all about the work."
"Not about the--you know--" cautioned her companion.
"My, no," answered the other. "It's just about Mrs. Douglass' funeral.
You know ma always goes to funerals, and I have found out that people
may go to the house and see her. That will interest ma."
Joe was back with the paper, and was proud to have such an active
interest in the Bugle. It seemed something to say it was his own
father's paper, and then to have people remark what a bright sheet it
was, and how it was never afraid to tell the truth.
"Let me give it to father?" he asked Dorothy.
"No, let me?" pleaded little Roger, "cause I ain't hardly seen him a
bit lately."
"But you must not tell that we sold papers," directed Joe. "Father is
not to know yet, you know."
"Oh, I won't tell," Roger promised.
"But you might forget," argued Dorothy.
"Nope," declared the little fellow, "I'll just let this strap keep
squeezing me, then I couldn't forget."
"And have father ask where you got it," said Joe laughing.
"Then I'll tie a string round my finger," persisted the younger brother.
"I'll tell you," Dorothy concluded, "You just run in, give father a
good hug, put the paper on his lap and run out again without saying a
word. Then he will think you are playing newsboy."
This plan was finally decided upon, although Roger did think he would
like to stay for "just a little while" to hear "Daddy" say "something
about something."
They found the major anxiously expecting them. He feared something had
happened--the press might break down, or the paper supply give out,
Many things might occur when the man who ran the business was not there
to keep ends straight. To say that the major was pleased was not half
telling it--he was delighted. To think that they could get out a paper
like that! And that his Little Captain should write up the parade. It
really was well described.
Perhaps what astonished him most was Tavia's part in the issue. He
laughed when Dorothy told how jolly Tavia was. Of course, there was no
mention of the encounter with the strange man.
But that night Dorothy could not sleep. The excitement perhaps, or was
it fear?
Oh, if that horrid man had never come to Dalton!