A MESSAGE OF IMPORTANCE
The boys were just finishing their pie when the front door bell rang
and Laura Westmore went to answer the summons. She found there a boy
who did odd jobs around the railroad station and telegraph office.
“Joseph Westmore lives here; doesn’t he?” asked the lad.
“Yes,” replied Laura.
“Here is a telegram for him.”
“A telegram?” repeated the girl, in surprise, for such things were
scarce with the Westmore family. “Joe!” she called.
Her brother came out and took the yellow envelope the lad handed forth,
and signed for it.
“Any charge?” he questioned.
“No, it’s paid for,” said the messenger, and hurried away, anxious to
get home for his own dinner.
“Who is it from, Joe?” asked Harry, coming out into the hallway.
“Don’t know yet,” was the answer. Joe ripped the envelope open and
scanned the yellow sheet inside. “Hum! This is queer!” he murmured.
“What is?” asked Harry and Laura, in a breath, and even Mr. and Mrs.
Westmore listened, to hear what Joe might have to say.
“The telegram is from Mr. Andrew Akers. He wants us boys to come up and
see him at once. He says it is very important.”
“Doesn’t he say what he wants?” asked Harry.
“No.”
“Maybe he wishes the flying machine back,” suggested Laura. “Now he is
getting better he may wish to fly again.”
“No, I don’t think it is that,” answered her big brother.
“Well, we’ll have to go to Cresco and see him, that is all there is to
it,” said Harry, after glancing at the brief message, which gave no
hint of anything more than Joe had told. “From the telegram I should
say he wanted to see all of us.”
“Yes.”
“How can we go? We can’t get a train, or a boat, just now, and we
haven’t the auto any more.”
“But we have our wheels, and we can go up, just as we did when we
played football up there,” answered Joe. “This settles one thing,” he
added. “I don’t fly to-day. We’ll have to put the biplane away.”
The two brothers discussed the situation for a few minutes, and
arranged that while Harry got out the bicycles and looked them over,
and notified Fred and Bart of what was wanted of them, Joe should
notify Link and see to it that the flying machine was stored away once
more in the carpenter shop.
“If we only knew enough, we could fly to Cresco,” said the younger
Westmore youth.
“The biplane wouldn’t carry all of us,” answered his brother. “But
never mind, it will be a nice run up there on our wheels.”
Joe was soon on his way to Link’s home. The carpenter’s son was just
finishing his noonday chores, having had dinner some time before. He
listened with interest to what his chum had to tell.
“That surely is queer,” was his comment. “Of course we’ll go, and my
wheel is ready for use any time. Wonder what he wants?”
“I give it up,” answered Joe.
The two lads hurried to the field where the biplane had been left. As
they came closer, they saw two other boys running off in the opposite
direction.
“Look there!” exclaimed the carpenter’s son. “Do you know who they
are, Joe? Si Voup and Ike Boardman!”
“Then they must have been around our flying machine!” was the quick
response. “Hope they didn’t injure it.”
“It would be like them to ruin it if they could,” said Link, bitterly.
“They hate to see us enjoying anything they can’t have.”
Both of the boys quickened their footsteps until they reached the spot
where the _Skylark_ rested. As they came up they saw Rabig jump to his
feet, stick in hand.
“Oh, I thought them pesky fellers was a-comin’ back,” said the old man,
when he recognized the lads.
“What pesky fellows?” demanded Joe.
“Two boys as was here a bit ago. They was very snoopy, an’ I had all I
could do to keep ’em away from the machine.”
“I hope you didn’t let them touch it,” cried Link.
“Not much! I told ’em to clear out an’ mind their own business. They
said they only wanted to look the engine over, but I wouldn’t have it
nohow,” went on Rabig. “When I say I’ll watch a thing, I watch it.”
“Weren’t they Si Voup and Ike Boardman?” asked Joe.
“One of ’em was Mr. Voup’s son, yes, an’ tudder was that boy as is
allers with him. I don’t like that Voup boy. He onct played a mean
trick on Mrs. Mallow--an’ a boy as will play a trick on a poor widder
ain’t o’ no account, my way o’ thinkin’,” concluded old Rabig.
Matters were explained, and soon the biplane was being rolled back to
the carpenter shop, where it was put under lock and key. Before doing
this, the boys sent a message to James Slosson, stating that they would
not be able to take any more lessons in flying that day.
Less than half an hour later the five chums were on their bicycles and
on the way to Cresco. The road ran, as my old readers will remember,
through the town of Brookside and the village of Dartley. As far as
Brookside the way was smooth and in fine condition, and all “let out
for all they were worth,” to use Fred’s manner of expressing it. In the
town they met a few lads they knew, but did not stop to talk to them.
Beyond Brookside came a more hilly country, winding around the rim of
Pine Lake. Going up some of the hills was slow work, and the boys were
glad enough when the long coasts on the down side were reached. The
sun was out full and clear and it would have been very hot had it not
been for the fact that they were riding through a thick forest, with
immense trees on either side shading the roadway.
“Here is where we got caught in the forest fire!” cried Harry, when
they came to the burnt-over portion. “Phew! but that was a narrow
escape!”
“Yes, and we might not have gotten out at all if it hadn’t been for
Joel Runnell,” added Fred.
“Any danger of forest fires now?” asked Bart, who was puffing roundly
because of the long hill just ascended.
“I haven’t heard of any fires this summer,” answered Joe. “Since that
last burn-over the farmers and hunters are very careful about starting
a blaze.”
“They ought to be careful!” cried Link. “See what valuable trees they
burn down. And my dad says good lumber is getting scarce enough as it
is.”
At the top of the longest of the hills the boys sat down to rest. Bart
had brought some juicy apples along and each munched one of these. As
they took it easy they talked over the matter that had brought them on
the journey.
“Well, it’s possible he wants his flying machine back,” said Bart. “And
if he does, I guess it is up to us to give it up.”
“Oh, that will spoil everything!” exclaimed Fred. “And just when we
are learning how to fly, too!”
“Wonder if we couldn’t build a machine--if we have to return the
_Skylark_?” said Link. “I could get the carpenter’s tools, and maybe
the wood.”
“But how about the engine?” asked the stout youth. “That’s the very
heart of the flying machine.”
“Couldn’t we get some engine out of an old auto?”
“It wouldn’t do,” answered Joe. “The engine of a flying machine must
not only be powerful but it must also be light in weight. You could
never sail up into the air with an old auto engine.”
“Oh, I don’t think he wants the flying machine back,” said Harry. “It’s
something else--but what I can’t imagine.”
“It’s queer he wanted all of us to visit him,” went on Bart, as he got
up, followed by the rest. “Why didn’t he ask just Joe, or some one
else?”
Nobody could answer that question, so nobody tried. On they went again,
down the hill and over a flat stretch of country. Then they passed over
another hill, from the top of which they could see the church spires of
Cresco.
“Only a couple of miles more, boys!” cried Joe. “And a pretty good road
all the way.”
“And I’m glad of it,” answered Fred. He was so short and stout that the
long stretch on the bicycle was beginning to tell on him.
A little further on they left the forest behind and came out on a
country road lined on either side with farms. One farm had a hooded
well close to the front gate, and here Harry insisted upon stopping for
a drink.
“Might as well wait until we get to Runnell’s,” grumbled his brother,
who was anxious to learn the true meaning of the message sent to him.
“Oh, we don’t want to show up there all out of breath,” was Harry’s
reply. And he drew up a bucket of ice-cold water and each lad drank
more than was perhaps good for him in that over-heated condition. Then
they were off once more.
“No use of going into Cresco proper,” said Fred. “We can take the side
road that runs right past the Runnell cottage.”
“Just what I calculated to do,” answered Joe.
In a few minutes they came to the side road in question and turned down
this, past more farms. Then they crossed a brook spanned by a quaint
wooden bridge. Just beyond was a side street of Cresco and on this was
located the home of the old hunter who had been their friend for so
many years.
As they rode up, Joe gave a long whistle that was well known to Joel
Runnell. He was about to repeat it, when the front door of the cottage
was thrown open, and the old hunter came out. He held up his hand as if
to warn the boys to keep quiet, and at the same time closed the cottage
door carefully behind him.
“What is it? What’s the matter?” asked Joe, quickly, for he could
readily see by the old hunter’s manner that something was wrong.
“He just fell into a doze a while ago an’ I don’t want you to wake him
up,” answered Joel Runnell. “He’s had a bad day an’ night o’ it, I can
tell you! I was ’most tempted to git a doctor two or three times, only
I knowed he didn’t want ’em around.”
“But what is wrong? Why did he send for us?” asked Harry, as the boys
dismounted and rolled their wheels to a shed in the rear of the cottage.
“I don’t know exactly. But it’s something about that black box that he
dropped from his flyin’ machine and you found an’ brung back to him.
He wanted to know if I had opened it, an’ when I said I hadn’t he went
wild-like an’ insisted on sendin’ that message to Joe.”
“The black box!” cried Joe.
“We didn’t open it, either,” put in his brother.
“It was locked and we had no key,” explained Fred.
“Why, he said the contents of the box were all right when we were here
before,” added the carpenter’s son. “He was very thankful that it was
so, too.”
“Well, I can’t understand it,” returned Joel Runnell. “He had the box
an’ was lookin’ in it, all by himself, an’ all to onct he let out a
scream an’ almost fainted. Then he asked me about the box an’ got
wilder an’ wilder, and had me send the message in his name. I hated to
leave him to do it, but he made me go, an’ I run all the way to the
telegraph office an’ back. Then he had another wild spell an’ I had all
I could do to quiet him. At last he got so exhausted he dropped into a
doze, an’ he’s dozing now--an’ I am mighty glad of it.”
“What can it mean?” asked Joe.
“I don’t know what it means, Joe. But something is all wrong,--you can
be sure o’ that,” answered Joel Runnell.