HELD PRISONERS
“Look out or we’ll turn turtle, if we hit the barn!” yelled Bob.
“Yes, we can’t go down this way!” added Ned. “Do something!”
“All right, I’m going to start the gas machine,” said Jerry. “Keep cool
now, there’s no danger. By Jinks! But we seem to be having all kinds of
bad luck lately. First we kill a calf and now we rip a barn apart. Well,
it can’t be helped.”
The gas bag had been partly inflated ready for a landing at the balloon
grounds, so that the _Comet_ did not come down as rapidly as would
otherwise have been the case. Jerry soon started the vapor machine,
forcing more of the lifting gas into the container, and this further
checked the descent.
Almost as lightly as the proverbial feather, the _Comet_ came down,
resting on the ground near the barn. As soon as she settled to rest,
the anchor also dropped beside her, for there being no longer any
upward strain on the sharp points to force them into the wood, the
weight pulled them out.
The farmer stood there defiantly, covering the boys with his gun, as
they lined up on the deck of the airship, with Professor Snodgrass, his
arms filled with specimen boxes, behind them, a puzzled look on his
face.
“What d’ ye mean, goin’ around th’ country, rippin’ folks’ barn apart?”
demanded the farmer in surly tones.
“It was an accident,” replied Jerry gently. “Our anchor and rope must
have come loose, and were dragging along through the air.”
“Come loose! I should say it did come loose!” spluttered the man. “So
did nearly half my barn come loose! But I’ll have satisfaction for it.
Hey, Bill--Sam! Come here an’ help me take care of these folks!”
He raised his voice and two husky hired men came running from the
direction of the house which the boys could just make out through the
trees of the orchard.
“Now then, grab ’em!” yelled the farmer, pointing his gun first at
Jerry, then at Bob and then at Ned, and then beginning at Jerry again.
“Grab ’em!” he cried, “an’ tie ’em up! There’s plenty of clothes line,
an’ th’ women folks ain’t goin’ t’ wash t’-day.”
The hired men, grinning in appreciation of the plight in which our
friends found themselves, advanced slowly.
“There’s no necessity for resorting to harsh measures,” said Jerry with
dignity. “We’re not going to run away.”
“I’ll bet ye ain’t!” chuckled the farmer. “Not when I git through with
ye! Tie ’em up, Sam an’ Bill.”
“Look here!” cried Jerry, seeing that it did no good to be polite, “if
you lay a hand on us, you’ll get into trouble! We won’t stand for any
such treatment from you! The damage we did was accidental, and we’re
willing to pay----”
“That’s what ye will! Pay, an’ pay good an’ proper!” interrupted the
unpleasant farmer.
“What do you think it’s worth?” asked Bob, as Jerry went to look and
see if the strain of the anchor rope had done any harm to the airship.
“What do I think it’s wuth? Why, a thousand dollars won’t cover my
damage! I jest had that barn repaired t’ hold my crops, an’ here ye
come along, an’ rip it all t’ smithereens! A thousand dollars----”
“What’s that?” cried Jerry, reappearing at that moment. “A thousand
dollars!”
“He says we damaged his barn that much,” explained Bob.
“Nonsense!” exclaimed the tall lad.
“No nonsense about it!” spluttered the farmer. “An’ ef ye don’t settle
I’ll have ye arrested. Sam an’ Bill I reckon ye’d better git them cords
ready arter all.”
“Why, we have only torn off a small piece of the cornice and some of
the eaves,” said Jerry, pointing to where the damage had been done.
“Hu! It’s easy enough fer ye t’ say that, young feller, but it ain’t
so easy t’ git my barn fixed. Either ye pay me a thousand dollars, or
ye go t’ jail, th’ hull three of ye--no, by gum! There’s another one
of ye--there’s four!” as he caught sight of the professor who, seeing
that he could be of no service, was calmly looking over his note-books.
“Is he yer father?” asked the farmer. “If he is, he can pay th’ damage.
Folks what go about in airships must have lots of money.”
“No, he’s not our father,” replied Jerry shortly, “and we haven’t lots
of money. We are willing to pay you a reasonable sum for damaging your
barn, but a thousand dollars is out of the question.”
“It is, eh? Well, mebby when ye’ve been in jail a couple of days ye
won’t think so. Sam an’ Bill, take ’em, an’ tie ’em, while I hitch up,
an’ git ready t’ bring ’em over t’ Lafayette, t’ th’ court house. I’ll
show ’em they can’t make no monkey of me!”
“Nature did that for you,” murmured Ned, “and saved us the trouble.”
The two hired men, one of whom had secured a clothes line, now advanced
on our friends. The farmer stood ready to back them up with his gun,
and the boys had had no chance to get a weapon, even had they desired
to do so, which they probably did not, as they were not of the fighting
class.
“You’d better not touch us!” threatened Jerry.
“No! Hands off!” ordered Bob.
“Hear ’em talk!” mocked Bill. “Do ye think we kin handle ’em, Sam?”
“I reckon so. You take th’ tall feller, an’ I’ll tackle th’ other two.
Th’ old man looks harmless.”
“I’ll attend t’ him,” remarked the farmer. “I reckon Si Muggins ain’t
forgot how t’ shoot.”
The two hired men came rapidly forward. Sam laid a hand on the shoulder
of Bob. The fat lad shrunk away, and looked to Jerry for a signal as to
what to do. That youth, as Bill approached him, drew back his arm to
deliver a blow. In another moment there would have been a fight, but
the professor, looking up, and probably realizing for the first time
what was going on, exclaimed:
“Easy, boys. We’ll arbitrate this. Let them take you, and don’t resist.
The proper authorities will settle this.”
“That’s what they will!” declared Mr. Muggins, shaking his gun. “Tie
’em up, Bill an’ Sam.”
“There’s no need for that,” said Jerry more calmly. “We’ll go wherever
you want to take us.”
“All right; then lock ’em in th’ smoke house until I kin hitch up,”
decided the farmer, and, with feelings of bitter humiliation in their
hearts, but resolving not to give in to the extortionate demands of Mr.
Muggins, the four meekly followed the hired men.
A little later they were locked up, prisoners in the stifling smoke
house, where, in the fall, hams and bacon were cured over a hickory
fire. It was dark, dirty and ill-smelling, and a great change from
their comfortable airship, which they could just make out through the
cracks in the smoke house door, resting near the damaged barn.