A CHASE IN THE NIGHT.
But Rob was disappointed in his hopes of getting back early to Hampton.
In fact, he encountered a regular chapter of accidents to delay him. In
the first place, the man he had come to see was not in, and he had to
wait for an hour till he put in an appearance.
In the meantime, he had telephoned to Hampton that he might not be back
till late, so that he knew the drill would go on without him, and this
helped to make the wait less aggravating.
He set out for home at a good speed, but hardly had he gone two hundred
yards beyond the garage he had visited, than “pop!” went a rear tire. By
the light of a detached headlight, Rob examined it and found, to his
dismay, that he had run over a broken bottle in the darkness and cut
through both inner and outer tubes. That meant a long delay, for he knew
what country garages were. However, there was no help for it, and, amid
jeering cries of “Get a horse” from East Willitson small boys, he
summoned help and wheeled the car back to the repair place.
This was not the sum of his troubles, however. The repair man’s helper
was an awkward youth, who apparently knew more about plows and harrows
than he did about automobiles. At any rate, he succeeded in smashing
part of the steering gear as they were jacking the car up, which
required still further time to set it to rights.
As he left the garage, Rob saw, to his amazement (for long as the delay
had been, he had not dreamed it was so late) that it was almost
midnight.
“Got to hustle if I’m going to get any sleep,” thought the lad to
himself as he bade the garage man “good-night,” the latter having
magnanimously refused to take any pay for the repairing of the break
caused by his helper’s carelessness.
Once out of the place, however, he made good time, till within a mile of
home, when something went wrong with the radiator, which necessitated a
further delay.
“Good thing we’re an orderly, law-abiding community down here,” thought
Rob, smiling to himself, “or I would offer a good opportunity to an
enterprising hold-up man. By George! Old Jenkins, the constable, is laid
up with a smashed ankle, too. Well, Jenkins wasn’t capable of much
anyhow, except to carry that big star around against a suitable
background. Now, then, Mr. Radiator, if you’re ready we’ll go on.”
So saying—or rather thinking—the lad got back into the car and set off
once more, the cheerful song of the motor delighting him after its
temporary fit of backsliding.
In a few minutes he was at the head of the village street, dark, and
deserted, of course, at that hour. Presently the white outline of the
bank, the only stone building in the village, came into view, and as it
did so Rob gave an amazed exclamation:
“Why, there’s a light in there. Wonder who can be working late. I
thought Jennings and the rest had——. Hullo!”
The light had gone out as suddenly as if a hand had been placed over it.
Plucky as he was, Rob could not repress an involuntary shiver.
“There’s something wrong,” he said to himself. He muffled down the motor
and stopped half a block or more from the bank building. Then, with a
heart that beat so hard that it shook his frame, he began cautiously
tiptoeing down the darkened street. He kept on till he reached the bank,
and then catching hold of the window coping, he raised himself silently
till he could peer through the big plate glass window into the interior.
At first it seemed as black as a pit in there and Rob began to think
that his eyes might have played him a trick.
But the next instant he knew they hadn’t. At the rear of the main floor
of the bank a sudden tiny glow of light flashed. No bigger than the
midget lantern of a fire-fly it seemed, but as Rob’s eyes encountered it
he knew that some human agency was at work within.
And now the light began to come closer and Rob guessed that it was a
pocket electric torch. Whoever was carrying it came to the door—which
was opened, it seemed, and peered out.
“All clear,” this figure muttered to itself, while Rob, who had dropped
from the window at its approach, cowered back against the wall as flat
as he could make himself.
And now Rob could hear, from the back of the bank, a queer, rasping
noise. It sounded not unlike the harsh drone of big bumble bees. What
could it be? His ignorance was soon to be enlightened.
“Keep that drill quiet, Dugan,” came from the man at the door; “you will
wake the whole town up.”
Instantly the noise stopped, and as it did so the man at the door was
joined by another. Hardly had the second dark figure glided into view
before there was a muffled roar from within the bank and the ground
vibrated under Rob’s feet.
Like a flash, the words of Lieutenant Duvall flashed into his mind:
“Dugan, I have found out, was once an expert safe-blower.”
The second figure had been addressed as Dugan. From what Rob could make
out of the hazy outline of his big frame, it was the deserter. Evidently
what had just happened was the blowing open of the big safe which served
the Hampton bank in place of a strong room. With a swift flash of
intuition the lad realized what was taking place. The two rascals, of
whom the first was undoubtedly the Jap, were after the plans of
Lieutenant Duvall’s equalizer.
“I’ll fix them,” thought Rob, feeling in his pocket for his Boy Scout
alarm whistle. Three blasts on it would bring the Eagles and the Hawks
about him in a jiffy, all those within hearing, that is.
But before he blew the alarm Rob was prudent enough to softly tiptoe to
a safe distance. So silently did he proceed that he did not believe it
was possible for the men in the bank to have heard him. But the next
instant he was undeceived. Rob had been seen, and the Jap had crept
after him as silently as he himself had progressed.
“Drop that whistle or I shall be compelled to shoot you,” said a soft
voice in the startled boy’s ear. As the purring accents reached him, Rob
could feel the chilly impress of a revolver muzzle against the back of
his neck. With a quick, snake-like turn, Rob ducked and fairly slid up
under the astonished Jap’s arm before the other could realize what had
happened. With a quick wrench the Oriental was dispossessed of the
pistol, and Rob, master of the situation, placed the whistle to his
lips, while with the other hand he leveled the revolver at the quaking
Jap.
Three shrill calls rang out clear and loud on the early morning air.
“Now you stand there till they come and put you in the lock-up,” warned
Rob, standing motionless as a statue before the yellow man, and keeping
the pistol pointed straight at him.
“Truly you have me in a trap, honorable youth,” said the Jap. “I weep
for my native Nippon, which I fear I may never see again.”
He seemed to be overcome with an excess of grief, and moved one hand
downward.
“Don’t move,” snapped out Rob, devoutly hoping his companions would be
quick.
“My handkerchief, honorable sir,” sobbed the Jap; “may I not dry my
tears?”
“I’ll get it for you,” said Rob, sternly, and leaning forward, still
keeping the pistol leveled, he drew a square of linen from the other’s
breast pocket. As he did so, he became conscious of a strange odor in
the air. The next instant a dark figure came leaping out of the bank,
clutching something in its grip, and approaching them with leaps and
bounds. It was Dugan. But as Rob gazed at the approaching fellow a
sudden feeling of terrible lassitude overcame him. Dugan, the Jap, the
bank, everything, grew hazy. He felt himself falling backward and tried
desperately to catch himself. But his effort was a failure. Dropping the
pistol from his nerveless fingers, Rob Blake collapsed in a heap on the
sidewalk as Dugan came rushing up.
“Ha! An excellent idea to keep Orhsimi, the Japanese sleeping powder, in
my handkerchief; see, honorable Dugan, our young enemy is disposed of.”
Stooping by Rob’s recumbent form, the Jap picked up the pistol and
placed it in his pocket.
“Hark!” exclaimed Dugan, suddenly.
A strange sound was in the air. It was the patter-patter of dozens of
young feet. The Boy Scouts, roused by the startling summons of their
leader, were coming to the rescue.
“We’ve got to get out of this, and get out of it quick,” exclaimed
Dugan, excitedly; “we’ll have a whole hornet’s nest about our ears if we
don’t.”
“You’ve got the box with the plans in it?”
“Yes, but the smoke was so confounded thick that I could hardly see to
get it.”
The last two speeches we have recorded were exchanged while the two
rascals were diving down a side street where their automobile was
concealed. As the Boy Scouts came pouring round the corner, to be met by
a cloud of acrid smoke rolling from the open bank door, there was a
sharp “chug-chug!” as the former soldier and the treacherous Jap made
off with their spoil.
“What’s the matter? What is it? Who blew the alarm?”
These and a thousand other questions came from the anxious boys as they
ran about trying to discover what had happened, and what was the matter.
A cry from Merritt summoned them down the street past the bank. The
corporal had stumbled over Rob’s unconscious form.
“Rob! Rob! What is it?” he was saying as the others came up.
“Somebody must have struck him and left him here,” said Tubby. “Fan his
face, Merritt.”
The corporal produced a handkerchief and vigorously fanned the recumbent
lad’s countenance. It so happened that in doing this he removed the
subtle powder which the crafty Jap had had concealed in his
handkerchief, and as its fumes lost their effect Rob awoke. At first he
gazed dazedly about him, but presently all that had happened came
rushing back to his mind.
“Did they get away?” he asked in a feeble voice.
“Who, old fellow?” asked Tubby, “whom do you mean?”
“Those chaps who robbed the bank.”
“Robbed the bank?”
“Yes. I’ll explain it all afterward. Did they get away?”
“An auto just chugged off down H street, if that’s what you mean,”
volunteered Hiram.
“Down H street,” echoed Rob, “that leads into the New York road, doesn’t
it?”
“Why, yes,” rejoined Merritt, “but what has that to do——”
“Everything,” exclaimed Rob, cutting him short; “come on, boys. My dad’s
car is just up the street. We’ve got to take after those fellows and
have them arrested. They’ve got valuable papers.”
“Rob! They’ve stolen the airship plans?” gasped Tubby, guessing what had
happened.
“That’s right. But come on,” exclaimed Rob, frantically tugging at his
chum’s coat-sleeves. Leaving the others behind with orders to telephone
to the various villages about, to apprehend the robbers if they appeared
there, the boy, followed by his chums, made for his automobile which, it
will be recalled, he had left a short distance up the street. A few
turns of the crank and a quick snap as spark and gasolene were turned
on, and then a quick dash round the corner into H street and a flying
leap down the country road leading into the turnpike to New York!
“Do you think we’ll catch them, Rob?” asked. Tubby, bending forward
eagerly.
“Don’t know,” was the rejoinder; “we don’t even know that they have gone
this way. We can only guess at it and hope we are right.”
On and on flew the auto through the night, past sleeping villages,
through lonely patches of road where dark woods grew right up to the
sides of the road, up hills and down steep grades, but still no sight of
the auto they were pursuing.
Suddenly, as they topped a small rise, Tubby gave a shout. Below them,
and not more than a quarter of a mile off, they could see the gleam of a
tail lamp.
“It’s an auto!” exclaimed Merritt, “but is it the right one?”
The boys, except Rob, who was at the wheel, arose to their feet in their
excitement as they drew nearer the car ahead, which appeared to be
stationary.
All at once, however, the sharp staccato rattle of its exhaust sounded,
and the dim lights were whisked off at what seemed considerable speed.
Evidently the car had been halted for something—perhaps to examine the
stolen box—and the sight of the approaching lights had warned its
occupants that these might be signs of a pursuer.
Such was the guess the boys made anyhow, and it was not long before all
doubts as to who was in the front car were dissipated.
“Stop that car or I’ll fire at you,” roared back a voice which the boys
recognized as Dugan’s.
The only answer they vouchsafed was to keep on going.
Bang!
A bullet screamed past from the car in front and whistled by the boys’
ears. They could see the red flash of the discharged pistol against the
blackness ahead of them.
“That’s to show you we mean business. The next will come closer,” came
the same voice.
“He’s only bluffing. He can’t see anything in this light,” whispered
Tubby.
Suddenly from somewhere to the eastward there came a hoarse, harsh
whistle.
“A train!” cried Rob, as he heard; “must be a night freight.”
“Reckon that’s what it is. This must be the central division of the Long
Island Railroad,” said Tubby. “Wow, we’ve come way out of our way.”
“They must be off, too,” said Rob; “we simply followed our leaders.”
“Say, hold on, Rob!” cried Merritt, suddenly; “look! that train’s almost
at the crossing now!”
“That’s right, I just saw the headlight among the trees,” echoed Tubby;
“better slow down.”
“Guess so,” assented Rob, as the thunder of the approaching train was
borne plainly to their ears. It was evidently, as they had guessed, a
night freight, and from the noise the locomotive was making it must have
been a big one.
“Woo-oo-oo-ough!”
“There goes the whistle. I guess there are no gates ahead,” said
Merritt. “Now’s our chance to sneak upon those other fellows, they—Gee
whiz, look at that!”
As he spoke the other auto, which had hesitated for an instant as the
whistle of the approaching train sounded, dashed on ahead.
“They’re going to try to beat the train to the crossing,” exclaimed Rob.
“They’ll never do it,” was Merritt’s rejoinder. “Look! Oh, good
gracious!”
A sound of splintering wood and ripped mechanism drowned his cry of
horror, and those of the other lads. Before their very eyes the
locomotive had struck the robbers’ car as it was half way across the
tracks and had tossed it to one side—a mass of kindling wood and twisted
metal.
“They must both be injured or killed,” cried Rob; “hurry, fellows, maybe
we can help.”
The boys jumped out of the auto and ran to the crossing. In the meantime
the engine had been brought to a standstill and the train crew were
examining the wreck. But although both the railroad men and the boys
made a thorough search, they could find no trace of the men who had
occupied the machine. Rob and Merritt, as a final recourse, walked some
distance back up the track, but without finding any evidence that there
had been loss of life or injury.
“They must have been thrown clear of the auto when the crash came, and
when they picked themselves up I guess they realized that the best thing
to do was to take themselves off,” was the way Rob explained it. Hardly
had he completed this theory of what had occurred when his foot struck
something. It gave out a metallic ring. Stooping down swiftly, he picked
it up and found that it was the tin box from the bank, battered and
dented, indeed, but intact and still locked.
Naturally the boys were delighted over their find, which must have been
thrown from the auto when it was demolished. As after half an hour more
of searching nothing was to be found of Dugan or the Jap, the train crew
went back to their train and the boys prepared to turn back, with what
pleasant anticipations may be imagined.
“Well, so long, kids,” shouted the conductor of the train after the long
line of cars rolled off, “too lucky to happen a second time, I’m
thinking.”
Of course, he referred to the fact that no loss of life or injury had
occurred in the smash-up, but to the boys his words had an added
meaning.
“It is too lucky to happen a second time,” said Rob, hugging the
precious tin box.