EASTWARD HO!
After all this had come to pass, the Auto Boys found that if they so
desired there was nothing to hinder carrying out in full all that they
had purposed to do when the original plan of their eastern vacation tour
had been so amply discussed by the snug fire in Dr. Way's library.
"I propose that we go ahead with the old program," said P. Jones, Esq.,
as he occasionally dubbed himself. "We've got back our Big Six. She's
all right. Nearly all our luggage and other outfitting stuff is all
right. As for gasoline, grub and so on--what's the odds? We're not broke
yet."
"Guess you're right, Jonesy," put in Worth. "For once in your life,
you've about stated the case correctly."
"If the luck keeps up, all right." This from Dave, who could not let go
all his mental bearings without some pessimistic afterthoughts. "But
who's to say it will hold out? One thing I rather insist on, Phil, since
you make a sort of bluff at being our leader. Let's stick to the guide
book route, whether we go through Albany to Boston or whether we
short-cut through the Catskills and down the Hudson to New York. That's
my opinion."
They argued it out that last night at Griffin, which they were to leave
in the morning for the east.
"Somehow I'd like to see New York more'n Boston, I think," remarked Way.
"It would shorten the time of our vacation, and give us more time for
side trips, say to Niagara Falls or, if we went down the Hudson, to West
Point."
"Geewhillikins! Stop it, Phil!" cried Paul, making a grimace. "I tell
you what, boys! After all our troubles we're going to take in the real
country from here on. If I don't see the Falls, 'twill be because you
vote against the Big Six going there."
"And West Point!" This from MacLester, no longer gloomy-viewed. "I've
wanted to see that place ever so long."
"Tell you what we can do," chimed in Billy, who had been listening
intently. "Let's have a sort of elastic program, a go-as-you-please
route, governed each day by taking a vote as to how we'll go from then
on, subject always to approval of a majority of the voters."
"Will that do?" queried Phil humorously. "There are only four votes.
Suppose it's a tie, what then?"
"Aw, Phil!" from the irrepressible Paul. "If it comes to a tie, we'll
keep talking and voting until it's unanimous or three to one. I guess
we've all got some horse sense!"
Without too much stickling for unanimity, it was finally agreed that
while the general plan of the eastern trip should remain the same,
whenever advisable there would also be discussions of the next move
which would require at least a three-to-one vote in order to decide.
"We may all be fools some of the time," voiced Dave sagely, paraphrasing
Lincoln's noteworthy pronouncement, "but we won't all of us be fools all
the time." This while shaking his head dubiously at Jones, Esq., who
sniffed scornfully.
Accordingly, the following morning when the Big Six left Griffin its
course was eastward over the big highway prescribed in the guide book.
Phil, Dave and Paul took turns at the wheel, and when night was again
upon them they were nearing a small town where, according to the guide
book, one might turn to the left and before the day was over be fairly
within an hour or so of Niagara Falls. They put up at a modest hotel,
stored the auto in a convenient garage, took supper and, after a short
stroll along an uninteresting main street, retired for the night to a
large bedroom with two double beds.
Some debate ensued as to whether they should turn off and visit the big
falls, during which Worth dropped off asleep while MacLester nearly
jerked his head loose as he nodded from the depths of an ancient
armchair.
"Aw, what's the use?" grumbled Paul. "_They_ don't care _where_ we go!"
He pointed at Billy snug in bed, while Dave nodded the sleeper's
approval of whatever course might be taken on the morrow. "They don't
care, I say."
"Well, what do you say, Paul?" Phil regarded the boy quizzically. "Have
you ever seen the Falls?"
"No, nor I don't care if I _never_ see 'em. Nothing but a roar of water
and a cloud of wet spray if you go near 'em below." Paul's grammar was
humorously absurd at times.
"How do you know, if you've never been there?"
"Haven't I read and heard about 'em ever since I was knee high to a
duck?"
"Well then, let's vote. You wake Billy up."
While Paul was shaking and struggling with Worth, now angry over being
thus disturbed, Phil gently tweaked Dave's nose until he staggered to
his feet, making half-blind passes at his disturber as he mumbled:
"G'way, you! I--I'll punch your head, you--you--you--" And that was as
far as he ever got.
"We're voting to know if we go to the Falls or keep straight on," urged
Phil loudly. "What is it to be?"
Paul just then relinquishing his clutch on Billy's nightshirt, the
latter flopped back on his pillow, jerked the quilt over his head and
was buried to the outer world. Phil pinched Dave's ear until the nodding
one hauled back and struck out feebly, hitting nothing and throwing
himself back into the big chair's embracing arms.
This being the dumb reply of both, Phil grinned at Paul as he half
whispered:
"What do you vote, Paul? Is it straight on, leaving the Falls for
another time?"
"Bet your life--that's me! Say, Phil, I'll tell you what I'd really like
to do." As he said this Paul drew from his pocket a crumpled, soiled bit
of paper. "Here's something I got hold of at Griffin."
"Right here's where we turn off to the right, according to this paper.
Got it from Fobes. The Chief said he took it from Coster, who was
tearing mad because Fobes got it away from him. Somewhere beyond
here--don't say where--there's a one-horse tavern--old place, pretty
well off the main track. But it's mighty nigh one of the main railroad
lines."
While Paul was talking Phil was examining the paper, growing more
interested as he went on. Now he looked up, saying:
"It looks like a queer game. It may be worth a gambling chance."
"Think of the boodle! That express car was looted near there some years
ago. Another tramp was riding the brake beams and saw the robbers make
off in the nearby woods with their boodle. Papers were full of the
amount taken." Paul smacked his lips as if he tasted in anticipation
what the money would do. "Then this tramp jumped off and followed them.
See? It says so here." Paul pointed to a paragraph in the ragged
clipping. Phil, having already deciphered this, was reading further.
Then he said:
"That tramp was blind in one eye. Do you reckon he could tell and mark
what those robbers did with their boodle?"
"Sure, if he says so. I can see most as well with my hand over one eye
as with my two eyes." Paul in pantomime covered one eye and winked at
Phil, who was obliged to laugh. "Well, what does this tramp do? Why, he
waits round in hiding until them galoots go off after burying their
loot. Then he, like a fool, goes off to sleep. When he woke up his good
eye pained him so that he only marked the spot as best he could and
struck for the nearest house, which happened to be this old tavern."
"I see," remarked Phil ruminatively. "From this it appears he got better
and stayed, making himself so useful, choring about, that they kept him
on. Of course it was the boodle that kept him at work, doubtless meaning
to leave when he got better. Once he sneaked over to this big hemlock
and tried to dig for the money, but owing to the great rock they had
piled over it, and being weak from his sickness, he had to let it go,
meaning, of course, to come back when he was strong again. But he didn't
get strong. His other eye became more affected and in time he went
blind. After that the tavern folks sent him to the county almshouse, and
there he finally died."
"Right-o, Phil!" exclaimed Paul, unable longer to keep silence. "Just
before he pegged out, along came this same Coster's brother, also a
tramp. Tramp number one wouldn't tell the tavern folks because they put
him in the almshouse; but he did tell tramp number two, Coster's
brother, just because he was a tramp like himself, I guess. Coster's
brother belonged somewhere around here and loafed his time away, always
intending to visit the spot. But he, too, got sick and before he died
passed the secret along to Coster. The original thieves never came back
because they were later arrested for another crime, that of killing one
of themselves in a row, and the survivor or survivors were sent up for
life or hanged, I reckon. Anyway, they never bothered any one any more."
"But this old printed paper doesn't tell exactly where the boodle was
hid, except that it was close to a big hemlock and under a big rock."
Phil was shaking his head doubtfully. "Where would that hemlock be?
There are hemlocks scattered in the woods all around here."
"Here's something that Coster gave me while he was in jail, towards the
last. You see, I'd been sort of kind to him, or he took it that way. I
carried him some tobacco. When he found that he was in for a serious
time, he handed out to me not only this paper but a scrawl he'd made on
the back of an old envelope with a bit of pencil I'd given him some days
before. At the time I couldn't make much of what he was up to. But I
guess his bad luck in general was too much for him. After Rack landed
him he seemed to give up. Anyway he gave me both these," meaning the
printed bit of crumpled paper and the old envelope which Paul now passed
to Phil.
"Why didn't you tell us before, eh?" asked Phil sharply. "Aren't we all
comrades together?"
"Yep! But I knew you'd laugh at me for being so simple as to believe
anything Coster said. But since we've reached this place where we are
now, the thing came back to me so strong that I fished out these papers
and looked 'em over again. By jimmineddy! I can't help but think there's
something in all this rigmarole after all."
Phil, after some cogitation, gave back the papers to Paul, saying:
"Let's sleep on it, Paul. You can't get anything out of them now. In the
morning we will go into it again."
In the early morning Billy, who had some advantage over the rest in
point of sleep, was up first, and was presently whanging the others with
his pillow in a way that bade little for further slumbers on their part.
"G'way! get out!" cried Paul, feeling less interest just then in
treasure hunting than in securing a few more winks before the inevitable
bell for breakfast rang forth. "Remember how you acted last night when
we wanted you to sit up and talk!"
As for Dave, the last to be thus treated by the now wakeful Worth, he
grunted, groaned, finally heaving his own pillow at Billy who, dodging
the same, renewed his offensive tactics to such effect that MacLester
presently sprang forth from beside the now dozing Paul and grumblingly
proceeded to dress.
"Dave," began Phil, "I got something to tell you and Billy that I want
you to listen to until you get the thing firmly inside your thinkers.
Then, if you are interested, we'll wake up Paul for good and you can
look at what he's got to show you. He showed it to me last night, after
we tried to get you two to wake up enough to get the facts fairly
through your noddles."
"'Things' and 'noddles'!" This from Billy, tossing his much abused
pillow on the bed. "Why don't you get busy and talk sense? What you got
to show us anyhow? As for Paul, he--he's a--"
"He is, is he?" Paul, thus exclaiming, suddenly sat up and discharged
his own pillow at Billy, but only managed to hit Phil. "I didn't mean
you, Phil. I've been awake for about half a minute, and I know what
you're up to, Phil. Go for 'em, while I dig up the documents."
While Phil was relating the substance of what Paul told him and what the
two papers revealed, MacLester sniffed suspiciously and gradually
assumed his customary expression when doubtful opinions were being
aired, apparently for his own benefit. While Phil was talking, Paul had
extracted the crumpled printed scrap, evidently clipped from some long
forgotten town weekly, and the mysterious pencillings on the mussed
envelope.
One after the other Dave and Billy examined both the printed clipping
and the soiled, misused envelope on which were sundry drawings in
pencil. Finally Dave sniffed suspiciously.
"S'pose we _do_ turn off here and do as Paul wants us to? S'pose we
spend a day or two enlarging our hotel bill, and don't find anything
after all? Besides, who would believe anything Coster says?
Nobody"--here a skeptical look at P. Jones, Esq., now dressing in some
haste--"nobody, I say, but him." Dave jerked a finger at Paul, who was
pulling his shirt on over his head.
"I hear you," came Paul's voice, half smothered as he struggled up
through the shirt and, his head popping into view, he eyed MacLester in
disdain.
"Oh, I don't know!" remarked Worth, nodding at Phil. "What do you think
of it, boss?" meaning Way.
"I think just what I said to Paul last night. It's a gambling chance.
Shall we take it? Is it up to a vote?"
"You bet!" shouted Paul, greatly enthused. "In the first place it will
be lots of fun. No one seems to know anything about this secret place of
hiding or what may possibly be hidden there but us. Do they now?"
"N-no." This from Worth, who was evidently much impressed. "We may be
fooled, but who shall say that Coster wasn't acting on the square? I saw
Paul going out of his way to make Coster a mite more comfortable,
especially after he was caught with the goods on him, so to speak. Bad
as he is, he may have had some notion of doing Paul the only good turn
he alone could do, by putting him wise to this thing. Anyhow, it's fun
and fun is one thing we're after."
"Well, then," remarked Phil, "shall we put it to a vote?"
"Yep--let's vot'er now, right off the bat." So added Jones, by now
fairly in his trousers and reaching for his footgear. "I vote yes--yes,
siree!"
"So do I," said Billy, glancing quizzically at Dave. "Me for treasure
hunting! Gee! Wouldn't I like to feel my shovel scrape something hard,
and see my hand pull out a wad of bank notes all caked with woods dirt?"
"What do you say, Mac?" Phil was looking at MacLester, who colored
slightly.
"I--I'll vote last. You say what you'll do, Phil."
"Oh, well, if you want my decision, I'll say yes." Phil here grinned
openly at Paul. "I'm fond of our youngest comrade and I want to please
him whether we find anything or not."
All looked at Dave, who at first looked foolish, but straightway an open
smile wreathed his ruddy Scotch face as he said:
"I'm with you, Phil! Paul sometimes acts the fool, but he means well all
the same. Here's for the treasure! If we don't get it, maybe we'll have
some fun out of it after all."