THE ESCAPE OF THE BULLY
The group standing about the newly rescued lad on the veranda of the
deserted bungalow galvanized into instant action.
"Jack Curtiss and Bill Bender are in her!" shouted Rob, "come on,
scouts, we'll get after them while we can."
With a shout the Boy Scouts ran for the boat and speedily pulled out to
the Flying Fish. Hastily as they executed this move, however, the two
in the other boat had had time to head her about and start at top speed
for the mouth of the inlet.
"Clap on more sail, my hearties," roared the captain, almost beside
himself with excitement, "I want ter get my hands on them two piratical
craft."
Rob, with a look of grim determination on his usually pleasant face,
held the Flying Fish true on her course, but, heavily laden as she was,
she could not make her usual speed and the hydroplane soon distanced
her. Jack Curtiss stood in her stern and waved a mocking hand at the
Boy Scouts as the light-draft craft shot over the shoals and shallows
with case while the Flying Fish had to lose much time and way by
threading in and out seeking the deeper water.
"Douse my toplights, I can't stand that," bellowed the irate Captain
Hudgins. "I'll put a shot in that jackanapes' locker."
With these words, and before any of the boys could stop him, he rose to
his feet and sent a bullet from his ponderous revolver flying in the
direction of the fleeing motor boat. It missed and hit the water near
by, sending up a little fountain of spray.
Even at the distance they were the occupants of the Flying Fish could
see the fear which this warlike move inspired in the bully and his
companion. They threw themselves flat in their boat till only the
hands of Bill, who was steering, were visible.
They need not have feared, however. The captain's hasty move brought
down on his head Rob's wrath, though the young leader could not find it
in his heart to be really angry with the old man who had been irritated
past endurance by the bully's mocking defiance.
"Shiver my garboard strake," he exclaimed contritely, when Rob pointed
out to him that he might have killed one of the occupants of the
hydroplane, "shiver my garboard strake, lad, I saw red fer a minute
just like I did that time the Chinese pirates boarded the Sarah Jane
Butts in the Yellow River."
Although there was not much hope of catching the two, Rob stuck to the
chase even when he realized the scouts were outdistanced, and in fact
kept his attention so closely riveted on the other craft that when
there came a sudden jar and jolt and the Flying Fish stopped with a
grunt and a wheeze, he realized with a start that he had not been
watching the treacherous channel and was once more fast on a sand bar.
With a last shout and a yell of defiance the bully and his companion,
who had by now got over their fright, shot out on to the ocean and
rapidly vanished.
"There goes our hope of catching those two crooks," cried Tubby
angrily, while the engine of the Flying Fish was set at reverse. "It's
all off now. They know that we have rescued Joe and they'll fly the
coop for some other part of the country."
"I suppose they came down here to get their tent, not realizing we'd be
here so soon," observed Andy, which indeed was the fact.
Fortunately the Flying Fish was not very hard aground and a little
manipulation got her off into deep water once more.
"I guess those two chaps are almost in Hampton by this time and getting
ready to leave town," observed Rob as the motor boat forged ahead, once
more.
"This will be the safest thing for them to do," exclaimed Merritt,
"they are in a serious position this time. Kidnapping is a dire
offense."
"I wonder what they came back for?" said Tubby suddenly.
"No doubt to get their tent and the few things they had left on the
island," vouchsafed Rob, skillfully dodging a shoal as he spoke,
"maybe, too, they intended to see how Joe was making out."
"I wasn't making out at all," said the small lad, with a shudder at the
recollection of his imprisonment.
"Never mind, Joe, that's all over now," put in Merritt.
"I'm glad it is," answered the small lad, "and just think, if I hadn't
been a Boy Scout and understood that code I might have been there yet."
"That's true enough," said Rob, "for we had about made up our minds
that the bungalow was deserted, and were not going to bother
investigating it, till we saw the smoke."
About an hour later the boys landed once more in camp, where their
reception by the others may be well imagined by my young readers.
"And now comes the final chapter in the career of Messrs. Jack Curtiss
and Bill Bender," said Rob decisively, "I'm going to take a run up to
Hampton. Joe, you'll come along, and you, Merritt, and Tubby. If that
letter was delivered, as I imagine it was, Joe's parents must be in a
terrible state of anxiety by now and we must hurry up and see them at
once."
"Right," agreed Merritt, and a few moments later, having left the
captain and the others ashore, the Boy Scouts and their young leader
were speeding toward Hampton. With the craft lightened as she was,
they made good time and arrived at the yacht club pier speedily.
News of the events which had transpired at the island had evidently
reached the town, for Mr. Wingate himself, with Mr. Blake and Merritt's
father were at the landing as the Flying Fish glided up to it.
The three elders were almost as enthusiastic as the boys had been over
the safe recovery of Joe, the details attendant on which Rob rapidly
sketched to them. He had hardly concluded and had not had time to ask
how they knew of the kidnapping when a wild-eyed man in faded old farm
clothes, accompanied by an equally distracted woman, came rushing down
to the wharf.
"Where's them Boy Scouts? I allers knew no good would come of my son
joining 'em," the man shouted. "I'll give a hundred dollars fer a boat
that'll take me ter Topsail Island in ten minutes."
"'No need of that, Mr. Digby," said Rob quietly stepping forward with
his hand on Joe's shoulder, "here is Joe safe and sound."
"Great hopping watermelons!" yelled the farmer, rushing at his son
followed by his wife. Together the worthy souls almost squashed the
small lad like a butterfly under a harrow. But at last the first
greetings were over and the farmer turned to the somewhat amused group
of boys and men who were looking on.
"My, what a fright we had," exclaimed Mrs. Digby, a motherly-looking
woman, dabbing at her eyes with capacious pocket handkerchief, "we gets
a letter tellin' us that our boy be kidnapped."
"Yes we know all about that, Mrs. Digby," put in Mr. Blake, "you
recollect your husband telephoned to the chief of police here about it,
and expecting news from the island, we came down here."
"So he did, so he did," cried Mrs. Digby, "oh, dear me, Mr. Blake, I'm
in such a takin! I hardly know what I'm sayin'."
"Consarn them Boy Scouts," sputtered the farmer, returning to his
original grievance, "if Joe hadn't a joined them none of this would
have happened."
"Oh, yes it would and worse in fact," said Mr. Blake quietly, "from
what I have learned of the affair it was your lad's knowledge of the
Morse code, which every Boy Scout must know, that saved him when he was
confined on the island."
"That's right, pop," piped up the lad himself.
"Wall, I don't know nothin' about Horses, codes," grunted Mr. Digby,
somewhat mollified, "but if it saved Joe here it must be all right."
"Then your animosity toward the Boy Scouts is somewhat modified,"
smiled Mr. Blake, "let me tell you just what happened. As a matter of
fact the whole trouble dates back to the day your son exposed the
contemptible trick by which Jack Curtiss hoped to win the aeroplane
model prize contest."
The banker drew the farmer aside and related to him the story that had
been previously narrated by Rob.
"I want ter shake yer hand, boy," exclaimed the fanner, darting at Rob
at the conclusion, "I want ter shake all yer hands," he yelled in his
enthusiasm.
"Bless my soul," exclaimed Commodore Wingate suddenly, "we are clean
forgetting about those two young rascals who tried to extort the money
from Mr. Digby. We must get after them at once and their accomplice
who, I suppose, is, the man delegated to take the money from under the
rock."
"What do you suggest?" asked Mr. Blake.
"That we hasten to the office of the chief of police and then get into
my car and ferret them out if possible," said the commodore briskly,
"they must be made to suffer for this."
"I don't believe that Sam Redding had any hand in it," put in Rob as
Merritt mentioned the name of the boat-builder's son. "You know that
all our investigation only pointed to two persons, Jack and Bill, and
their assistant, Hank Handcraft."
A short time later Merritt, Tubby and the Digbys being left behind on
the landing, a high powered car, containing Rob, his father, Commodore
Wingate and the chief of police of Hampton shot out on to the road
leading to the farm owned by Jack Curtiss' father. Inquiry at the
Bender home had already developed the fact that Jack and Bill had left
there hurriedly a short time before, saying they were going out to the
Curtiss place. The party was doomed to disappointment, however, so far
as the hope of catching Jack or his accomplices at the farm was
concerned. Old Mr. Curtiss informed them that his son had taken the
family buggy and driven furiously off down the road with Bill Bender a
short time before.
"He got a hundred dollars from me," explained the old man simply, "he
told me he was goin' ter invest it in some rich mining stock his friend
Bender had promoted but--what's the matter, gentlemen," he broke off,
noticing the half-pitying look on the faces of the men in the
automobile. Mr. Blake hurriedly explained the attempted extortion of
which Jack had been guilty.
"What, Jack--my son!" exclaimed the old man in half daze at the
stunning intelligence, "my boy Jack do a thing like that? Why, it
can't be true. I don't believe it."
"I'm afraid, nevertheless, it is," rejoined Mr. Blake, but the old man
only shook his head.
"I'll not believe it," he kept repeating.
"I wish that so good a father had a worthy son," remarked Mr. Blake as
the car shot out of the farm and out upon the highroad in the hope of
overtaking the buggy.
At the Digby farm the machine was turned off to take the cross roads
and at this spot they encountered a buggy coming toward them driven by
a farmer friend of Mr. Blake's.
"Seen a rig with Jack Curtiss and Bill Bender in it?" shouted the
banker as the car was slowed up by Commodore Wingate.
"Down the road a piece driving like the Mischief," responded the rustic
pointing back with his whip, "but you're wrong 'bout ther' bein' only
two of them; that no-good beach-comber, Hank Handcraft, was in there
with them."
With a shouted word of thanks the car dashed forward once more. It was
evident that, realizing that their game was up, Jack and Bill had
picked up Hank, and, with a sense of loyalty for which Rob certainly
would not have given them credit, were trying to save him too.
"Where can they be headed for?" wondered Mr. Blake as the car dashed
forward.
"I can hazard a guess," exclaimed Commodore Wingate, "for the Sunnyside
railroad station. If they make a train they may escape us yet."
"Je-rus-a-lem," exclaimed the chief of police, a man named Applegate,
pulling out a huge old-fashioned silver watch, "there's a train due in
a few minutes now; if we don't make it, they'll slip through our
fingers!"
Faster and faster the car roared forward and suddenly as it shot round
a curve the little station of Sunnyside came in sight. Tied outside it
was the buggy and horse of farmer Curtiss and on the platform stood
three figures that the party in the auto made out at once as Jack
Curtiss, Bill Bender and their unsavory ally.
The road took a long curve at this point and while they could see the
station the pursuers had the mortification of knowing that it would be
some minutes before they could reach it. As the car bounded forward,
swaying like a rocking ship over the rough roads, there came a sudden
sound that made Rob's heart bound.
The long whistle of an approaching train.
Faster the machine shot onward roaring like a battery of machine guns
going into action. Its occupants leaned forward with eyes glued on the
group on the platform.
The trio of whom the autoists were in pursuit had by this time realized
that they were the objects of the chase and were nervously staring up
the track down which was fast approaching the train by which they hoped
to escape.
The auto was still a good two hundred yards from the station when the
train rolled in and, hardly stopping, started to move out again.
"Stop! stop!" yelled Chief Applegate, at the top of his lungs, and the
others waved their hands frantically. The engineer looked back at them
with a grin.
"Some more idiots missed their train, Jim," he remarked to the fireman,
"I might have waited for them but we're five minutes behind schedule
time now."
The fireman nodded understandingly and as the auto, in a cloud of dust,
dashed up to the little depot the train, with a screech that sounded
like the last defiance of the bully, shot round a curve and vanished
with a cloud of black smoke.
"Beaten!" gasped the chief.
"We can telegraph ahead and have them arrested in New York," suggested
Rob.
"No, perhaps it is all for the best," counseled Mr. Blake, "the parents
of both those boys are respected citizens, and it would be a cruel
grievance to them were their boys to be publicly disgraced. Let them
work out their own salvation."
And so Jack Curtiss, Bill Bender and Hank Handcraft vanish for a time
from the ken of the Boy Scouts, leaving behind them no regrets, except
it be those of their parents who were for many months bowed down with
the grief and humiliation of their boys' misdoings.