CHAPTER IX

THE HYDROPLANE QUEERLY RECOVERED

Seldom had the Flying Fish been urged to greater speed than she was a

short time after the discovery of the looting of the scouts' armory.

She fairly flew across the smooth waters of the inlet and out on to the

Atlantic swells, leaving a clean, sweeping bow-wave as she cut her way

along. Her four young occupants, for Tubby had been called on and

notified of the occurrences of the night, were, however, wrapped in

slickers borrowed from the yacht club, so that the showers of spray

which fell about them had little effect on them.

The run to Topsail Island was made in record time, and as they drew

near the little hummock of tree and shrub-covered land the boys could

perceive that something unusual had happened. A figure which even at a

distance they recognized as that of Captain job Hudgins was down on the

little wharf, and had apparently been on the lookout there for some

time. A closer view revealed the captain waving frantically.

"Something's up, all right," remarked Tubby, above the roar of the

motor-boat's engine.

The others said nothing, but kept their gaze riveted on the captain's

figure. With the skill of a veteran boatman, Rob brought the Flying

Fish round in a graceful curve and ran her cleanly up to the wharf

without the slightest jolt or jar.

"Ahoy, lads, I'm glad yer've come!" exclaimed the captain, as he caught

the painter line thrown out to him by Merritt, and skillfully made the

boat fast.

"Why, what has happened?" demanded Rob, as he sprang on to the wharf,

followed by the others.

"Happened?" repeated the captain. "Well, in a manner of speakin',

about twenty things has happened at once. Lads, my spirits and

emotions are in a fair Chinese tornado--every which way at once. In

the first place, I'm seventy-five dollars poorer than I was last night;

in the second, poor old Skipper's been given some kind av poison that's

made him so sick I doubt he'll get over it."

"You've been robbed?" gasped Merritt.

"That's it, my lad. That's the word. My poor old safe's been scuttled

and her hold overhauled. But I don't mind that so much--it's poor old

Skipper I'm worried about. But come on up ter the house, lads, and see

fer yerselves."

Followed by the sympathetic four, the old man hobbled up from his

little wharf to a small eminence on which stood his neatly whitewashed

hut. He opened the door and invited them in. A first glance

discovered nothing much the matter, but a second look showed the boys

poor old Skipper lying on the floor in front of the open fireplace

which was filled with fresh green boughs--and evidently a very sick dog

indeed. He gave the boys a pathetic glance of recognition as they came

in, and with a feeble wag or two of his tail tried to show them he was

glad to see them; but this done, he seemed to be completely exhausted,

and once more laid his head between his forepaws and seemed to doze.

"Poor old dog," said the captain, shaking his head. "I doubt if he'll

ever get about again."

The safe now engaged the boys' attention. It is true that it was a

rickety old contrivance which might well have been forced open with an

ordinary poker, but to the captain, up to this day, it had been a

repository as safe and secure as a big Wall Street trust company's

vaults.

"Look at that, boys!" cried the captain, with tragic emphasis, pointing

to the door, which had been forced clear off its rusty hinges. "Just

busted open like yer'd taken the crust off'n a pie! Ah, if I could lay

my hands on the fellers that done this, I'd run 'em tip ter the yardarm

afore a foc'sle hand could say 'Hard tack'!"

"Why, we think that--" began Tubby, when Rob checked him. The captain,

who had been bending over his dog, didn't hear the remark, and Rob

hastily whispered to Tubby:

"Don't breathe a word to anyone of our suspicions. Our only chance to

get hold of the real culprits is to not give them any idea that we

suspect them."

After a little more time spent on the island, the boys took their

leave, promising to come back soon again. First, however, Rob and his

corporal made a brief expedition to see if they could make out the

tracks of the marauders of the previous evening. Whoever they had been,

however--and the boys, as we know, had a shrewd guess at their

identity--they had been too cunning to take the path, but had

apparently, judging from the absence of all footmarks, made their way

to the house through the coarse grass that grew on each side of the way.

"Well, what are we going to do about it?" Tubby inquired, as they

speeded back toward home.

"Just what I said," rejoined Rob. "Keep quiet and not let Jack or his

chums know that we suspect a thing. Give them enough rope, and we'll

get them in time. I'm certain of it."

How true his words were to prove, Rob at that time little imagined,

although he felt the wisdom of the course he had advised.

As they neared the inlet, Rob, who was at the wheel and scanning the

channel pretty closely, for the tide was now running out, gave a sudden

shout and pointed ahead. As the others raised their eyes and gazed in

the direction their leader indicated they, too, uttered a cry of

astonishment. From the mouth of the inlet there had stolen a long,

low, black craft, gliding through the water at tremendous speed.

In the strange craft the boy scouts had little difficulty in

recognizing Sam Redding's hydroplane.

"So he's got her back," exclaimed Merritt, recovering from his first

astonishment.

"Yes, and she seems little the worse for her experience," remarked

Tubby. "It doesn't appear, though, that they are going to profit by

their lesson of the other day, for there they go out to sea again."

"Probably consulted the glass this time," remarked Rob. "It read 'set

fair' when we started out."

"Well, that's the only kind of weather for them," commented Merritt;

"though as both Jack and Bill can swim, I wouldn't mind seeing them get

a good ducking."

"I suppose the coincidence has struck you fellows, too?" remarked Rob

suddenly, as he skillfully twisted and turned the dancing Flying Fish

through the devious ways of the channel at low water.

"What on earth are you talking about?" demanded Merritt.

"Why, that it seems rather queer that Sam, who was round town

desperately trying to raise money with which to get his boat out of

pawn suddenly manages to redeem her, and that on the very day after the

robbery of Captain Hudgins hut."

"By hookey, that's right!" shouted Tubby. "I'll bet your guess was

correct, Rob--that gang of Jack's robbed the old captain."

"And stole our uniforms," put in Merritt.

"Yes; but how are we going to prove it?" was Rob's "cold water" comment

which silenced further speculation for the time being. Each boy,

however, determined then and there to do his share in running down the

persons responsible for the vandalism.

By the time they got back to Hampton the news had spread among the

entire Eagle Patrol, and an indignation meeting was called in the

devastated armory. Mr. Blake entered in the midst of it, and offered,

in conjunction with the rest of the local council, to furnish new

uniforms. On the matter being put to a vote, however, the lads all

agreed that it would be better not to accept such an offer till they

had made a determined effort to run down the plunderers.

"Very well," said Mr. Blake; "your spirit does you great credit, and if

you need any help, don't fail to call upon me at any time."

"Three cheers for Mr. Blake and the members of the council!" shouted

Merritt, jumping on a chair.

They were given with such roof-raising effect, that people outside in

the street, many of whom knew of the robbery, began to think that the

uniforms must have been recovered.

As the lads surged out of the armory, all talking at once about the

robbery and its likely results, whom should they encounter on the

street but Jack Curtiss and his two chums, evidently, from the fact

that they carried waterproof garments over their arms, just back from

their trip in Sam's newly-recovered hydroplane.

It might have been fancy, but as the eyes of the Boy Scouts met those

of the three lads who would have so much liked to belong to the

organization, Rob thought that a look of embarrassment spread over Jack

Curtiss' heavy features, and that even Bill Bender's brazen face took

on a shade of pallor. If this were so, however, it could have been

only momentary, for the next minute Jack, with what seemed very much

overdone cordiality, came forward with:

"Why, hullo, boys. I just heard about your loss. Any news?"

"No, not a word," chirped little Joe Digby, one of the few lads in the

Eagle Patrol who had never run afoul of the bully.

"Well," went on Jack, affecting not to notice the silence with which

his advances had been greeted, "I hope you find the fellows who did it,

whoever they were."

"Same here," chimed in Bill Bender, now quite at his ease, "although,

at that, I guess it was only a joke, and you'll get 'em back again

before long."

"Do you think so, Bill?" asked Merritt, looking the bully's crony

steadily in the eye. "I hope so, I'm sure. By the way, Hiram Nelson

here says that he saw you hurrying up Main Street at just about the

time the robbery must have taken place. You didn't hear any unusual

sounds or see anything out of the way, did you?"

"I--why, no--I--you see, I was on my way home from my aunt's home,"

stuttered Bill, seemingly taken off his guard.

"Yes; your aunt, who left home yesterday afternoon to be gone a week,"

shot out Merritt.

"Queer that she should have changed her mind and come home in such a

hurry."

"Oh, come on, Bill," stuck in Sam, seeing that things were getting very

unpleasant. "We've got to hurry up if we're to get out to Jack's in

time."

Without another word, the three hurried off, seemingly not at all

unrelieved to escape from what Merritt was pretty sure were

embarrassing questions.

The Boy Scouts of the Eagle Patrol · 第 9 / 24 章