GLADYS ERMINTRUDE IS RESTORED
Corbin came into sight at a little before nine o’clock the next
morning, a quiet, rambling town of little homes and shaded streets
commanded by a tall red water-tower. The railway touched Corbin on
its way to the coast, and, as the launch drew near the line of small
wharves and landings, there came the shrill screech of a locomotive
bustling in from the north. Just below the town they passed a small
settlement of shanty-boats, many of them hauled high and dry above
the river, others moored to the bank with a plank or two bridging the
gulf between. Harmon looked long and interestedly and finally confided
to Tim that some day he was ‘goin’ to have him one of them there
shunty-bo’ts.’
No one had slept very well the night before; no one, at least, save
Gladys Ermintrude, who declared that she had ‘slumbered divinely.’ Pud
and Tim, who had lain on a combination of one cot and the top of a
locker in the launch, had certainly found nothing divine about their
slumbers, and the fact had left them both a trifle tired and morose
this fine morning. The sight of Corbin had produced in Pud the first
pleasant sensation of the day, and as the launch chugged leisurely up
to a slanting float, beyond which the sign ‘GasOLine, OiL & WaTer’
flaunted from the side of an old shed, the sensation grew. Here they
were to see the last of Gladys Ermintrude!
During the last few miles the girl had become unusually silent, and
a close observer might have suspected her of being slightly worried.
And now, at the landing, she seemed to have lost some of that
self-possession that had served her so admirably during the trying
times just passed. Possibly the joy of being restored to her anxious
parents affected her. When the launch had been made fast, she was all
ready to disembark, her colorful sweater over her arm and her bag in
hand.
‘Well,’ she said, just a trifle breathlessly, Pud thought, ‘I’m awfully
much obliged to you boys. I shall never forget what you did for me.’
‘That’s all right,’ said Pud unemotionally. ‘How far’s this place where
you live?’
‘Oh, I wouldn’t think of troubling you any further,’ protested Gladys
Ermintrude. ‘I live quite a ways from here. You mustn’t――’
‘No trouble at all,’ replied Pud, climbing out. ‘We don’t mind a walk.’
‘No,’ agreed Tim, ‘we’d like it. Let me take your bag.’
Gladys Ermintrude clung to her bag tightly, though. ‘No, you mustn’t,’
she declared. ‘It wouldn’t look right for me to be seen walking through
town with you boys. And――Mother would be horribly shocked! Thank you so
much!’
‘I guess your mother can stand it,’ said Pud grimly. ‘Come on, Tim.
Harmon, you stick here till we get back.’
Gladys Ermintrude bit her lip as she followed across the wharf, but
presently she appeared to recover somewhat of her wonted composure
and allowed the gallant Tim to take her bag. Then, a step or two in
advance of her escort, she led the way. By the time they had crossed
the main street of the town and were among the modest residences, she
was walking with quite an air. Occasionally she bowed impressively to a
passer or to some housewife engaged in sweeping a tiny front porch. On
such occasions the persons addressed turned in their paths or paused in
their labors to stare long and fixedly after her.
The distance was not great, after all, for they had only walked four
blocks when Gladys Ermintrude paused at a gate in a white picket fence,
smiled gratefully, and held out her hand. ‘Well,’ she announced, ‘I’ll
say good-bye. It has been most kind of you――’
But Pud, who had been observing the house, interrupted coldly. ‘Aw,
come on,’ he said. ‘You don’t live here.’
‘Why, I do, too!’ Gladys Ermintrude stamped her foot in a most
unladylike manner. ‘You give me my bag!’
‘Don’t you do it, Tim. Look at the name on the door; “Hopkins!” And
look at the windows all closed up. Don’t any one live here, I guess.’
‘You mind your own business,’ flared the girl. ‘And you give me my bag
this instant!’
‘_Tibbie! Tib-bie-e-e!_’
Two houses farther along a slight little woman was beckoning from
the porch. The three turned and looked. Gladys Ermintrude’s manner
underwent a remarkable change. She laughed joyously. ‘Why,’ she
exclaimed, ‘there’s Mamma! Hoo-ee, Ma!’
Pud and Tim, the latter’s face an interesting study in bewilderment,
followed the lightly tripping feet of Miss Liscomb. In front of a
tiny buff-painted house, neat, but not at all the mansion of Gladys
Ermintrude’s description, Mrs. Liscomb awaited them, an expression of
mingled relief and uneasiness on her thin, tired face.
‘Well,’ she said as the girl clasped her emotionally, ‘so here you are!
Your pa’s been hunting all up and down the river for you. Now, that’ll
do! I’ve been hugged quite a plenty. You stand still a moment and tell
me what you’ve been up to this time.’
‘Why, Ma!’ said Gladys Ermintrude reproachfully. ‘How you talk! And
right before strangers, too!’
‘Humph,’ said Mrs. Liscomb. ‘Young man, you can set that bag down on
the steps, and then maybe you’d better tell me where you came across
this young lady.’
‘Now, Ma,’ said the girl, ‘I’ll tell you all about everything just as
soon as we’re alone. We mustn’t keep these boys any longer. Oh, dear,
I forgot to introduce you, didn’t I? Ma, this is Pud. I don’t know
his other name. And this is Ted――no, Tim. They’ve been very kind and
obliging. They brought me up the river in their launch, and Ted――Tim
carried my bag for me. Wasn’t that nice of him? And now I guess I’ll
say good-bye――’
‘We rescued her from the kidnapers, ma’am,’ said Pud innocently, ‘and
we’d have had her here before only they chased us and we had to camp
out overnight on a creek down there.’
‘Oh,’ said Mrs. Liscomb, turning a piercing look on her daughter, ‘so
she was kidnaped, was she?’
‘Sakes alive, Ma, can’t you take a joke?’ giggled Gladys Ermintrude.
‘He’s always joking. He’s just too funny for words!’
Pud scowled. ‘How big is the reward, ma’am?’ he asked.
‘Reward?’ faltered Mrs. Liscomb.
‘Well, I think I’ll take my bag in and――and――My, how very tired I am!’
And Gladys Ermintrude hurriedly faded from the picture.
Mrs. Liscomb heaved a sigh. Then she said: ‘Come up on the porch,
please, and tell me just what happened. You look real tired yourselves.’
Pud, occasionally aided by Tim, gave a brief but succinct narrative
of events, and at intervals Mrs. Liscomb nodded and at intervals she
sighed.
‘Of course,’ said Pud in conclusion, ‘I knew there wasn’t any reward.
We didn’t come for that, ma’am. But what I’d like to know is was she
really kidnaped?’
‘No, she wasn’t. I’m so sorry about it all, because you were dear
to take all that trouble. I might as well explain, first off, that
Tibbie――’
‘Is that really her name?’ asked Tim.
‘Her name is Isabel, but we’ve always called her Tibbie.’
‘Gosh, she said it was Gladys Ermintrude!’
‘I dare say. She――she says a great many things that aren’t so,’ sighed
Mrs. Liscomb. ‘Sometimes I call them just plain, out-and-out lies, but
her father says it isn’t that; he says she’s got too much imagination.
She reads an awful lot of trashy books, and just recently she’s gone
perfectly insane about moving-picture shows. Mr. Liscomb says she’ll
get over it as she grows older, but I don’t know. Seems to me she gets
worse instead of better.’ Mrs. Liscomb paused and sighed discouragedly.
Pud pursed his lips and then said judicially: ‘Well, she certainly is a
pretty good imaginater, ma’am!’
‘I do hope it’s no more than that,’ was the troubled reply. ‘She says
she’s “playing a rôle,” whatever that means; something she’s picked up
from those moving pictures, I suspect. She’s just about wore me out. I
did think when she went down-river with her pa and her Uncle Asa I’d
have a minute’s peace. She was wild to go, and while they didn’t want
her, I guess, they took her along because she’s a real handy cook. They
were going fishing and shooting for a week, you know.’
‘Yes’m,’ said Pud. ‘Were those men her father and uncle?’
‘Yes, and of course they were dreadfully upset when Tibbie ran off like
that in a strange boat, and they spent hours going up and down the
river looking for her, and then they came back here about midnight to
see if she’d come home. Mr. Liscomb says he’s going to whip her when he
gets her, but I don’t suppose he will. He’s always saying that, but he
never does it.’
Pud stared into the sunlight as one who sees a vision. ‘I guess,’ he
said earnestly, ‘whipping’s awfully good for children sometimes.’
‘Well, I don’t know. Mr. Liscomb will be back very soon. He went to
telephone to some folks who live down the river a piece. He thought
it might be that Tibbie had gone there. Now don’t you hurry away. Mr.
Liscomb will want to thank you for taking such good care of her!’
But Pud was already on his feet and moving anxiously toward the steps,
and Tim was very close behind him. ‘Yes’m,’ replied Pud hurriedly, ‘but
it wasn’t anything, and we’ve got to be going now. I――we’re awfully
sorry we let her fool us, ma’am, and didn’t know about them being her
father and uncle, because if we had known we wouldn’t have done it, of
course, and I’d like you to tell him so, if you please. And I guess
we’d better be going on now!’
‘Well, I’m sure I’m much obliged to you,’ said Mrs. Liscomb heartily,
as she shook hands with each. ‘And I know Tibbie is, too. Or, if she
isn’t, she ought to be. I guess she’ll be right ashamed of herself,
too.’
‘Yes’m,’ agreed Pud, his gaze fixed uneasily in the direction of the
business section. ‘Yes’m. Well, that’s all right. We were glad to do
it――I mean――Well, good-morning, ma’am!’
At the gate, with no backward glance from even Tim in the hope of
one last fleeting glimpse of Gladys Ermintrude, the boys turned to
the right and walked briskly away. They believed that the returning
Mr. Liscomb would approach from the other direction, and neither Pud
nor Tim was anxious to meet him. It might be, as Mrs. Liscomb had
suggested, that he would thank them, but, recalling the events of the
past eighteen hours, they had their doubts!
They didn’t say much as they made their way as inconspicuously as
possible back to the boat. Once Tim remarked in the tone of one who at
last finds the solution to a puzzling problem:
‘Remember when she said her uncle’s brother wasn’t her uncle? Well, he
wasn’t. He was her father.’
‘About the only time she told the truth,’ grunted Pud.
A little later Pud asked unkindly: ‘What are you aiming to do with
your share of the reward, Tim? Let’s see; a third of ten thousand
dollars――’
‘Aw, shut up,’ muttered Tim.
They found Harmon asleep on the after seat, one bare black leg crooked
over the gunwale. When awakened, he accepted the announcement that
there was to be no reward coming his way with admirable philosophy.
‘Reckon we’s goin’ have plenty money when we sack a town, ain’ we,
Mister Pud? Where-at’s ’at town?’
As much as they desired to cast off and put space between them and the
grateful Mr. Liscomb, they were obliged to transact certain business
before doing so. Oil was needed, for one thing, and food for another.
They had spoken carelessly before starting the trip of eating a great
deal of fish, and in consequence they had not stocked heavily with
meat. Now, save for a small residue of bacon and a single can of baked
beans, the larder was bare of what might be termed the foundations of
a meal. It was decided to replenish here and now, since, whether they
went farther upstream or returned down it, there was no other town of
size for many miles. Pud got his oil and then carelessly suggested to
Tim that the latter could do the shopping if he liked. Tim showed no
gratitude for the favor. They debated sending Harmon to the stores,
but in the end they concluded to go together. After all, Mr. Liscomb
would be quite as likely to find them at the landing as in the town,
and if they had to listen to his expressions of gratitude, perhaps it
would be better to do so where there was plenty of room in case Gladys
Ermintrude’s father became too earnest.
Pud took the remains of the ten-dollar bill, which had been provided
for current expenses and which had been broken at the gasoline station
at Livermore, from its hiding-place, and they returned to the business
street of the town, Harmon once more being left in charge of the
launch. They purchased fresh meat and bacon and bread and a dozen
bananas and a box of cookies, and then Pud, reflecting on the advantage
of having small bills handy, proffered a five-dollar note. It was a
surprisingly new and crisp note to have been through the pocket of a
gasoline supply man. The grocer who accepted it seemed to be thinking
something of the sort, for he turned it over and peered at it closely
for several seconds. Then he fixed Pud with a stern look and asked:
‘Where’d you get this bill, hey?’
Pud told him. The grocer again turned it over, again studied it. Then,
with no further words, he walked from behind the counter and laid a
firm hand on Pud’s shoulder.
‘You come along with me,’ he said. ‘This bill may be all right, but it
don’t look it, and I’ve been stung twice already.’
Pud hung back. ‘Where do you want me to go?’ he asked.
‘To the bank, young man. It ain’t but four doors from here. I don’t
like the slick look of this bill, and I’m going to have Jim Knowles
pass on it afore I take it.’
‘Oh, all right,’ said Pud, ‘but there isn’t anything wrong with it,
I tell you.’ Nevertheless, he was beginning to have doubts of the
bill himself. It _was_ awfully neat and crisp, while most of the
paper currency that circulated thereabouts was quite the contrary.
And he recalled Mr. Ephraim Billings’s statement of a week before. A
counterfeit bill, Mr. Billings had stated, looked just like a good
one. And that was just what this bill looked like! Pud, as he walked
docilely beside the grocer to the door of the Corbin National Bank,
wondered if the penalty for trying to pass counterfeit money was very
heavy. Tim accompanied them, looking greatly worried. They had to stand
in line for a minute before the wicket. Finally, though, the man behind
it was looking inquiringly from the bill to the grocer.
‘Well,’ he snapped impatiently, ‘what you want I should do with this,
Henry?’
‘Want you to look at it.’
‘I am a-looking at it. What’s wrong with it?’
‘Looks sort of funny to me, Jim. Thought maybe it was phoney. I got
stung twice just recent, like you know, and――’
‘Pshaw!’ The man behind the wicket thrust the bill back irritably. ‘I
told you twenty times how to tell those counterfeit notes, Henry. Use
your brains! I told you――’
‘All right, all right! This is O.K., is it? Then suppose you give me
five ones for it, Jim.’
Jim did so, sourly, and the three returned to the store, the grocer
apologetic, Pud and Tim much relieved.
‘You see,’ said the storekeeper as he made the change from the cash
register, ‘there’s a lot of queer money been circulating around this
part of the State recently. Tens and twenties, though I ain’t seen any
of the twenties. About a fortnight ago two men came in here and bought
nearly four dollars’ worth of goods and gave me a ten-dollar bill. It
was a mighty nice-looking bill and I put it aside so’s to have it in
case I was to need a nice crisp ten. Well, sir, when that bill went to
the bank――happened I didn’t pay it out again――that feller we were just
talking to took and stamped “Counterfeit” right across it four or five
times! And, by Jupiter, I was out ten dollars!’
‘That was hard luck,’ said Pud, reaching for his bundles.
‘Wa’n’t it? And then again, about a week after that, it happened again.
That time it was Clay Moody, the garage man, paid me. He never could
remember where he got it. Anyway, you see we’ve got to be careful, and
that’s why I was doubtful about that bill you handed me. It looked
awful pretty. Well, if it ain’t all right,’ he chuckled, ‘I don’t need
to worry. And, by Jupiter, I wouldn’t feel any too blamed sorry if it
_was_ bad, seeing Jim Knowles was so tarnation snippy!’
They got back to the launch without further misadventure, and without,
fortunately, so much as sighting the grateful Mr. Liscomb. Ten minutes
later they were in the stream, bound up-river to a place known as ‘The
Flat,’ where the bass lived. The Flat had a Statewide reputation as a
fishing ground, and, although they were now supplied with enough fresh
meat for one repast, they all agreed that a nice fried bass would touch
the spot as nothing else could!