A SURPRISED INTRUDER
“Going to stand here looking at it all night?” demanded Jerry after a
pause, during which his two chums had vainly sought to prevent the rain
from trickling down inside the collars of their coats. “Do you think
the tire is going to mend itself, Bob?”
“I only wish it would!” devoutly exclaimed Chunky. “Wow! This is
fierce!”
“No help for it,” mumbled Ned, as he wiped the dashing rain drops from
his eyes. “Hand me the jack, Jerry, I’ll get the car up, you can take
off the tire and we’ll make Bob put on the new shoe and tube. That’s a
fair division of labor.”
“I’ll be gum-swizzled if I can see it, as Mr. Sackett would say,”
exclaimed the fat lad. “You give me the hardest part to do.”
“Good for reducing flesh,” remarked Jerry as he reached under the seat
and got out the jack and a new inner tube. “Fetch around one of the
oil headlights, Bob, so we can see what we are doing, and unstrap a
shoe.”
Bob started for the lantern, splashed into a deep mud hole, and uttered
an exclamation of disgust.
“Wow! Say, I’m in up to my knees!” he complained.
“And I’m gradually sinking down,” added Ned. “It looks as if we were in
a bog, or a quicksand. Fellows, I do believe the auto is going down!”
“Hey! What’s that? The auto sinking?” cried the voice of Professor
Snodgrass. For the time being the boys had forgotten about him, and he
seemed to have either fallen into a slumber, or to have been thinking
so deeply there in the darkness that he was not aware of the accident.
“Don’t tell me we’re sinking!” he implored.
“Well, if we’re not, it’s a good imitation of it,” declared Jerry, as
he looked at the wheels of the auto, now deep in the soft mud.
“Oh, what will become of my valuable specimens?” cried the scientist.
“I must save them!” and he leaped from the auto, holding in his arms
half a dozen small boxes. He landed in a puddle of water, which
splashed all over the motor boys, and their sudden exclamations of
dismay further added to the alarm of the professor.
“I didn’t know we had run into a river!” he cried. “Why didn’t you warn
me? I was thinking of a plan to capture the singing fish, and I didn’t
pay any attention to where we were going.”
“Neither did the auto, apparently,” remarked Ned. “But it’s not quite
as bad as a river, Professor. We’re comparatively safe. You’d better
get back under shelter, and we’ll fix the tire,” for the little
scientist was speedily being drenched, as he stood there in the storm
without a protecting coat.
“Thanks. I believe I will. I wish I could help you boys. Wait until I
put my boxes where they won’t get wet, and I’ll do what I can.” The
professor reëntered the car.
“No, we’ll manage,” declared Jerry. “Get busy with the jack, if you’re
going to, Ned.”
The merchant’s son went around to the wheel on which the tire had
burst, and stooped down in the mud and water, while Bob held the
lantern. The wind blew more powerfully, fairly stinging the rain into
the faces of our heroes. They were deep in the muck, and even their
raincoats were but small protection.
Ned tried to slip the jack under the axle, but the foot of the
implement went so far down into the mud that no purchase, or lifting
power, could be obtained.
“Get me a flat stone, or several of them, or a fence rail, or something
to put under the jack,” ordered Ned, straightening up with a groan of
anguish. “I’ve got to have something to set it on. Get busy, Chunky!
Look around with your lantern for a flat rock.”
“Say, do you think I’m going to do it all?” demanded the stout lad in
injured tones.
“You haven’t done anything yet,” retorted Ned sharply. The storm and
the accident was getting on the nerves of all of them, and tempers were
sorely tried.
“Here, Bob, I’ll help,” broke in Jerry good-naturedly, with the
intention of pouring oil on troubled waters. “I’ll get the other
lantern and we’ll give an imitation of two Diogeneses looking for a
flat stone.”
As the tall lad made his way forward, splashing through the mud and
water to detach the other headlight, Professor Snodgrass, who had
safely packed away his specimen boxes, uttered a cry.
“Look, boys!” he called, “there’s a light coming this way. Maybe it’s
another auto, and they’ll help you.”
They all looked. Down the road, dimly seen through the mist of the
rain, was a bobbing light.
“If that’s an auto it’s either got the blind staggers, or else it’s
steering itself,” remarked Ned.
“It’s a man with a lantern,” declared Bob.
“And he’s coming this way,” added Jerry.
“That settles it,” went on Ned, throwing the jack back into the tonneau.
“Settles what?” demanded Jerry.
“This repair job. I’m going to wait until morning. We can’t do anything
in the storm and darkness.”
“What are we going to do? Stay out here all night, stuck in the mud?”
asked the tall lad.
“We’re going to stay stuck in the mud all right, I guess, fellows,”
retorted Ned, as he watched the progress of the moving light, “but
we’re not going to stay out here all night, not to my way of thinking.”
“Why not? Where are you going?” inquired Bob. “Do you see a hotel off
in the distance?” and he pretended to look like the villain in the
play, who shades his eyes with his hand and gazes down the wings, for a
sight of some one approaching on horseback.
“Here’s how I size it up,” went on Ned. “There’s a man coming with a
light. He’s walking, so evidently he doesn’t live far from here, or
he’d be riding. If he lives around here there must be some sort of a
house, and when he gets here I’m going to ask him to take us in. I’d be
willing to sleep in a stable to get out of this storm. We can leave the
auto here, and in the morning we can put on a new tire, and start off.
How about it?”
“It sounds good to me, if the man will take us in,” agreed Jerry.
“You’ll soon be able to tell,” remarked the professor. “He’s almost
here.”
The bobbing light approached nearer, and soon, by its rays, the boys
could see that the lantern was carried by a grizzled farmer, who wore
a horse blanket as a raincoat. He stopped, and standing in a puddle of
water demanded:
“Are ye stuck, strangers?”
“That’s what,” replied Jerry.
“Can you accommodate us over night?” asked Ned quickly. “We’re willing
to pay you well.”
“Oh, I guess I could put you up,” drawled the man. “I live all alone,
jest a piece down the road. I saw the lights on your machine, an’
I sensed that suthin’ were wrong, so I come out t’ help. This is a
powerful bad bit of road, an’ lots of machines has trouble. Generally
they comes t’ me fer help an’ I does what I kin. If ye’ll walk along
I’ll light th’ way, though it’s a measly bad storm.”
“Will it be safe to leave the auto here, boys?” asked the professor.
“Oh, yes,” replied Jerry. “No one could run away with it to-night, but
I’ll take the precaution of locking the ignition system, and that will
prevent anyone tampering with it. I guess we’ll go with you, Mr.--” He
paused and looked at the farmer.
“Buttle is my name, Enoch Buttle. Come right along. I ain’t got a very
scrumptious place, but ye’re welcome.”
“I must get my valuables!” exclaimed the professor suddenly, as he
reached back under the seat where he had piled his specimen boxes.
“It would never do to leave them here.” As he emerged with the small
packages in his arms, shielding them from the wet as well as he could,
Mr. Buttle looked at the scientist sharply, and asked:
“Suthin’ ye’re particularly fond of there, neighbor?”
“I should say so!” exclaimed Mr. Snodgrass. “There’s at least a
thousand dollars in these boxes.” He referred to his valuation of his
specimens. A sharp and crafty look passed over the farmer’s face. It
was gone in an instant, and before the boys, who were busy getting the
auto in shape to leave standing on the road, had had a chance to notice
the expression.
Splashing down the muddy road the four followed the lead of the farmer,
and his bobbing lantern. The red tail light of the auto, as well as the
two oil headlights had been left burning, so that no other traveller
would crash into the obstruction.
Rather discouraged by their plight, pretty well wet through, anxious
about getting an early start in the morning, there was no very cheerful
spirit manifested among our friends as they trudged on. Professor
Snodgrass carried his boxes, oblivious to everything else, even the
pelting rain, which soaked him through. Jerry wanted the scientist to
take his stormcoat, but Mr. Snodgrass would not hear of such a thing.
“Keep it yourself, Jerry,” he said. “I’m used to being wet through in
my business. I’ll soon dry out when we get to Mr. Buttle’s house.”
“Can’t I carry your valuables for you?” asked the farmer who was
walking beside Mr. Snodgrass.
“Oh, no indeed! I never let anyone but myself take these precious
things,” replied the scientist. “If anything should happen to them I
never could replace them.”
A little later they were at the farmhouse. It was a small one, quite
old-fashioned, and, from what little glimpse the boys had of it as they
entered, it did not seem to be in very good repair.
“Here’s where I live,” said Mr. Buttle. “It’s not very good, but it’s
the best I’ve got. Now I can make you a cup of coffee, and fry some ham
and eggs, if you’d like ’em.”
“Would we?” cried Bob, and there was a hungry gleam in his eyes.
“Wa’al, I’ll git right t’ work. I do my own cookin’. I’ve got an oil
stove. Git off your things, an’ I’ll git th’ meal. I dunno whether
we’ll call it supper or brekfust, but it don’t much matter. I’ll be
right back, an’ after ye eat I’ll make ye up some beds on th’ floor.
It’s the best I kin do.”
“Oh, we’ll be glad to get them,” said Ned, “no matter what they are.”
The old man, with a quick glance at Professor Snodgrass, bustled from
the room, and our friends proceeded to take off some of their wet
garments, hanging them over chairs near an old-fashioned fire-place in
which, in spite of the fact that it was summer, a blaze was cheerfully
burning.
“This will dry us out,” observed Jerry, holding his benumbed hands to
the flames.
“That’s right, git close to th’ fire,” remarked Mr. Buttle, as he came
in a little later, leaving open the kitchen door, whence came the
savory smell of ham and eggs, mingling with coffee. “I lit th’ fire
when the storm come up.”
“Say, does it strike you that our host hasn’t the most pleasant face in
the world?” asked Jerry of his chums, when the old man had again gone
out.
“You shouldn’t look gift-horses in the mouth,” observed Ned.
“You can’t see his mouth--too many whiskers,” came from Bob with a
chuckle. “I’m glad we’re going to feed, anyhow.”
“No, but seriously, I don’t like his looks,” went on the tall lad.
“If we had any valuables I’d feel like putting them under my pillow,
provided we get one when we go to bed.”
“Oh, you’re nervous,” declared Ned, and then conversation on that line
came to an end, for Mr. Buttle announced supper. It was as good a meal
as could be expected under the circumstances, and the boys and the
professor did full justice to it.
“An’ now for beds,” announced their host, and a little later, having
been gone from the room for some time, he came back to state that the
sleeping, arrangements were completed.
“I’ll have to put you three young fellows on beds on th’ floor in one
room,” he said, “an’ Mr. Snodgrass kin have th’ next room. It’s the
best I kin do.”
“Can’t we all be together?” asked Jerry, with a suspicious glance at
his companions.
“I’m sorry, but my house ain’t quite big enough,” was the answer.
“Oh, I don’t mind,” Professor Snodgrass hastened to say. “I’ll take
all my valuables in with me, for I wouldn’t want anything to happen to
them. I’ll be all right, and we can leave the door open between.”
Jerry felt that it would hardly be right to say anything more, and
so, in about half an hour, when they were nearly dried out before the
welcome blaze, they went up to the improvised bedrooms.
“I thought you said we could have the door open between our room and
the professor’s?” asked Jerry when he had looked at the arrangements.
“Wa’al, I did think so, but I jest discovered that th’ connectin’ door
is locked, an’ I can’t find th’ key,” said Mr. Buttle, nervously moving
about.
“Oh, it won’t matter,” was the professor’s opinion, and he went into
his apartment carrying with him his precious boxes of specimens, while
Jerry, with growing suspicion, caught a crafty look which Mr. Buttle
gave the scientist.
“Lock your door, Professor,” whispered the tall lad, as they prepared
for bed. “Lock it, and put a chair against it.”
“What for?” demanded Mr. Snodgrass. “Do you think----?”
“I don’t like the looks of that man,” went on Jerry. “Put your watch
and money under your head. We’ll do the same.”
“Oh, you’re too fussy,” declared Bob, as the footsteps of their
host could be heard descending the stairs, after he had called a
“good-night” to them. “You’re nervous, Jerry.”
“Well, perhaps I am, but I’m going to lock our door just the same. No
use taking chances.”
Jerry did so, and also took the precaution to draw a chair against the
portal. He called to know if Mr. Snodgrass had done the same.
“Yes,” replied the scientist, “though I have no fear. My watch is only
a cheap one, and I didn’t bring much money with me. I will put my
specimen boxes where no one can get at them without awakening me.”
In spite of his worries Jerry was soon asleep, as were the others, for
they were tired and worn out. Ned was thinking anxiously of what the
morrow might bring forth, and he hoped soon to be in communication with
Mr. Jackson.
Just what hour it was Jerry could not determine, but he was suddenly
awakened by a noise as if some one had pushed a chair across the room.
Instantly all his suspicions came back to him, but, before arousing his
companions he made up his mind to investigate.
Cautiously he crawled to the door of their room, and, feeling about
in the darkness, discovered that the chair he had placed against the
portal was still in place.
“It wasn’t in here,” he murmured. “I wonder if the professor is up?”
He was just about to rouse Ned and Bob, and had in mind to call the
scientist, when from the latter’s apartment there suddenly came a
series of startled yells.
“Ouch! Oh my! Let go! I’m bein’ stabbed! Some beast has holt of me! Let
go, consarn ye, or I’ll stomp on ye!”
There was a riot of racket in the adjoining room.
“What’s the matter?” yelled Ned, jumping up.
“Is the place on fire?” asked Bob, pressing the spring of a portable
electric light he had with him, and partly illuminating the room.
“Here! Get out! What are you doing? Thieves! Murder! Help, boys, help!”
“It’s the professor!” gasped Jerry. “That rascal is attacking him!”
“We’re coming, Professor!” sung out Ned. He began sliding back the
chair that Jerry had placed against the door, while Bob held the light.
“Not that way! This!” shouted Jerry, and, putting his shoulder to the
connecting door, he burst it open with a mighty shove.
The three chums piled into the professor’s room, and in the light of
Bob’s lamp saw a curious sight.
Dancing about in fear and pain was Mr. Buttle. Fast to the thumb
of each hand was an enormous, pinching, black beetle, some of the
specimens recently gathered by the professor. The boxes were scattered
about the room, and the scientist with apprehension on his face was
scurrying about, gathering up several choice insects which had been
released by the intruder.
[Illustration: DANCING ABOUT IN FEAR AND PAIN WAS MR. BUTTLE.]
“Take these beasts off me or I’ll sue ye!” cried Mr. Buttle. “Take ’em
away ’fore they eat my thumbs off! Wow! Jehoshaphat, how they pinch!”