NED UNDER SUSPICION.
It was quite early in the morning some days later when Bob called at
Jerry’s house.
“Hello, Chunky!” greeted Jerry as he came to the door, having finished a
bountiful breakfast. “What’s up now?”
“Thought maybe you might like to take a ride off in the country,”
replied the stout youth, panting a bit from having to push his motor up
the little incline leading to his chum’s front door.
“Nothing would suit me better,” said the male representative of the
Hopkins family. “Where is it to this time?”
“What do you say to a trip over to Limestone Creek? We can go fishing.”
“I’m with you. Ned will go, of course?”
“Yes, he is waiting.”
Mrs. Slade, on Ned’s request, had the cook put up a basket of bread and
butter, some cake and cheese, which Bob fastened to his machine. Then,
the fishing tackle having been stowed away on Jerry’s motor the three
chums started off.
Limestone Creek was a stream about ten miles from Cresville. It was a
noted fishing place, and many a fat chub or speckled trout had been
pulled from the sparkling waters. It was a hot August day, but the boys
did not mind the burning rays of the sun. Part of the way they rode
along under big trees that gave a refreshing shade, and occasionally
there was a little breeze to cool them off.
“Here we are,” cried Jerry at length as he turned his machine from the
main road, into a narrow path that led through a green field to the
brook. “This way to the fishing banks!”
“Yes, and if you yell that way all the fish will be scared away,”
expostulated Ned. “Make a little less noise if you want any luck.”
“Good idea,” chimed in Bob. He soon had the lines in shape, and
then, taking out his knife, cut a slim willow pole that would serve
excellently for fishing. The others followed his example, and soon all
three were sitting on the grassy bank, while the cork floats bobbed
lightly in the swirl of the eddy which formed the “old fishing hole.”
Luck was good with the young disciples of Isaak Walton, and they soon
had a dozen choice fish among them. Then, as the sun was high in the
sky, and it was hot sitting on the bank, the boys adjourned to the shade
of the tree where they had left their cycles.
“Now for dinner!” cried Bob.
“Let’s draw lots to see who makes the fire, who cleans the fish and who
cooks them,” suggested Ned.
Ten minutes later an appetizing aroma filled the summer air.
“Ah! Maybe that ain’t good!” cried Bob.
“Beats restaurants all to pieces!” was Ned’s opinion.
Then with the bread and butter they had brought along, with the
seasoning for the fish, fresh crullers and cheese, the whole washed down
with water from a clear cool spring near by, the boys made a meal that
even a king might have envied.
Dinner over they lolled lazily beneath the trees until the sun was low
in the west. Bob proposed a walk along the creek as he wanted to see if
there were any evidences of musk-rats nests in a certain place.
“Will it be safe to leave the machines here?” asked Jerry. “Some one
might come along and ride off with them.”
“It would take more than one person to get away with all three,” Bob
said. “But we can take out the spark plugs, and unless the thieves have
duplicates along they won’t get very far.”
Removing the plugs, the boys walked along the stream for half a mile.
They found no musk-rats nests, and Bob, remarking that they could come
back another day and make a better search, proposed a return trip.
It did not take long to reach the places where they had left their
machines. The spark plugs were put back, and, after finishing what few
crullers remained, the three boys trundled their motors out into the
path.
“Here goes for home!” cried Ned, as he vaulted into his saddle. He got
his cycle started by foot power and then attempted to throw the power
on. Nothing but a faint sound of air being exhausted from the cylinders
responded.
“Something’s wrong!” cried the boy.
At the same time the other two discovered that their machines would not
work. Again and again they tried but with no result.
“Some one has cut the wires!” exclaimed Bob. “You can see where they
split the insulation, shoved it to one side, broke the copper, and then
put the insulation back to cover up the mean trick.”
“You’re right!” exclaimed Ned. “I’d like to catch the fellow who did it.”
Suddenly Jerry darted over toward the tree beneath which the cycles had
been standing. He stooped down and picked up something which he looked
at closely.
“I fancy this will give us a clue,” he said, showing a knife with an
opened blade, to which there clung some of the insulation from the
copper wires.
“Whose is it?” asked Bob.
“It has the initials N. N. on it,” replied Jerry.
“And there’s only one person around here who has a name with those
letters,” put in Bob.
“There might be more,” said Jerry, inclined to be cautious, “but I
happen to remember that Noddy Nixon had a knife like this. I saw him use
it once.”
“This is his first move in getting square, as he would call it,”
ventured Ned.
“Still it is only circumstantial evidence against him,” reasoned Bob.
“And we had better have more before we accuse him.”
“Of course,” agreed Ned. “I think--”
“Which of you boys happens to be Ned Slade?” interrupted a voice, and
the boys turned to see a short, stout fussy man gravely regarding them.
“Ah, I thought so,” he remarked as Ned gave an involuntary start. “Then
you are the one I want to see.”
“What for?” asked the owner of the name.
“Well--er--I don’t like to speak of it in public.”
“I haven’t anything to conceal,” spoke Ned.
“Then if you haven’t I haven’t,” said the little man. “I’m Sheriff
Blackwell of Peterstown, and I want to talk to you about a robbery.”
“What! Not the robbery of Mr. Judson’s mill?” asked Ned, greatly
excited. “Why I--”
“Now I may as well warn you right now, that whatever you say will be
used against you,” said the sheriff. “Now that I’ve done my duty in
giving the warning, go ahead if you want to.”
“But you--you--why you surely don’t think I robbed the mill?” asked Ned,
flushing with shame at the thought.
“Very good, but you can’t get anything out of me, young man,” said the
sheriff with a wise nod. “I cut my eye teeth years ago. You’ll have to
come with me, at least for a while. I reckon you can get bail.”
“Bail! Come with you! What do you mean?” asked Ned, while his two chums
stood looking on, not knowing what to do.
“Look here,” began the fussy little sheriff. “You were at the mill on
the night of the robbery, weren’t you?”
“I--er--that is I was--er--”
“Of course,” said the sheriff. “I knew you were. And you never said
anything about it when we were hunting for clues, did you?”
“I told my two chums, Jerry and Bob, here,” said Ned.
“That’s right,” chimed in Jerry, and Bob nodded his head in assent.
“I’m acting on information and belief,” went on the sheriff. “Certain
knowledge has come to me from a man who saw you at the mill on the night
of the robbery. It looks as if you might know something about it, that
is, who did it, and who has the money. I might add that suspicion points
strongly to you.”
“To me?”
“Yes. Can you give us any clue that would indicate that some one else
might be involved?”
Ned hesitated an instant. He looked quickly at Jerry, who shook his head
slightly, to indicate to Ned to have nothing to say about having seen
Noddy.
“I can’t give you any information,” said Ned slowly.
“Then you’ll have to come with me,” went on the sheriff.
“May I ask,” inquired Ned, “who told you that I might be the guilty
person?”
“A gentleman of Cresville, named William Berry.”
“Bill Berry!” exclaimed Ned. “I--” and then he stopped.
“I didn’t lose any time,” the representative of the law continued.
“I drove over from Peterstown this morning. By judicious inquiries I
learned you and two other boys had come over here. I followed. The law
knows no delays. Are you ready to come?”
“I have my motor cycle with me,” said Ned. “Can I go on that?”
“If I let you ride your machine will you promise to go slow, and not try
to escape? I’ll drive along in my carriage.”
“I’ll promise,” said Ned, the deep flush not having left his face.
“Then we’ll consider that arranged. Come on.”
Slowly, and in depressed spirits, greatly in contrast to the gaiety
with which they had arrived, the three boys trundled their machines,
the wires of which had been quickly repaired, to the road. The sheriff
untied his horse, got in the carriage, and cautioning Ned to run his
machine at reduced speed, followed the boys who felt very little
inclined for talk. They were so worried that they left their fish behind.
Eventually Cresville was reached. Ned, much as he was humiliated by his
technical arrest, knew he could easily prove his innocence. But he felt
that the mystery of the mill robbery was deepening.
“I’ll go right to your house with you,” said the sheriff to Ned. “We
will have a talk with your father, and I have no doubt we can come to
some understanding.”
Mr. Slade was surprised, incensed and puzzled by turns when the fussy
little sheriff in charge of Ned called on him. The arm and majesty of
the law soon explained what had taken place.
“This Mr. Berry is sure he saw your son at the mill,” repeated the
sheriff.
“I wouldn’t depend too much on Berry’s word,” said the merchant.
“I was at the mill that night,” exclaimed Ned. Then he related what he
had seen, all about the queer light, the presence of Bill Berry, and the
finding of the tools and dark lantern. He only refrained from mentioning
Noddy’s name, since he did not feel justified in bringing him in, no
matter what his suspicions were concerning the bully.
“Great Snakes and little fishes!” exclaimed the sheriff, when Ned had
finished. “I wish I had known this at the time. I guess we’ll have to
hold you, as a witness, at least, my boy.”
But Ned’s father had sufficient standing in the town to render
unnecessary any formal proceedings in holding Ned, and the sheriff
departed without his one-time prisoner, on Ned’s promise to give
evidence when wanted.