OFF TO THE LAKE
“Kidnapped?” the chief exclaimed.
“Yes! Look here!” spoke Mr. Nixon, his hands trembling with excitement
as he extended a piece of paper to the chief. “Noddy did not come home
all night. This morning I found this in his room. It is terrible. You
must help me find him.”
The chief read aloud what was written on the paper:
“We have taken your son away. If you want his return say
nothing but leave $1,000 under the old oak tree on the river
bank Friday night.
“_The River Pirates._”
“What do you think of that?” asked Mr. Nixon, who was much excited.
“Um,” spoke the chief non-committally. “It’s certainly very strange,
Mr. Nixon. Noddy is rather a large size to kidnap, but then you can’t
tell about criminals now. If you’ll leave this with me I’ll put some
of my men right to work on it. I’ve got my own hands full with this
robbery.”
“Cresville certainly is coming into public notice,” remarked Jerry in a
low tone to Bob. “First it’s a robbery, then Noddy Nixon disappears.”
“Kidnapped you mean,” interposed Bob.
“No, I don’t,” said Jerry. “Noddy is no more stolen away than I am.”
By this time the chief had walked off down the street and Mr. Nixon
went with him. The boys remained together.
“But what in the world--” began Bob, when Jerry stopped him with a
wink, and made a slight motion of his head toward Andy. He need have
no concern about Andy, as it developed, for that youth, all afire to
continue his detective work, made a hasty excuse to the motor boys and
hurried off down the street after the chief.
“What’s that you and Chunky were saying about Noddy?” asked Ned, who
had not been listening very closely to what his friends were talking
about.
“Jerry says Noddy was never kidnapped,” spoke Bob.
“I don’t believe he was,” put in Jerry. “I happened to get a glimpse of
the note Mr. Nixon had. It was partly printed and partly written, but
I’m a Dutchman if some of the handwriting wasn’t Noddy’s.”
“How do you happen to be so familiar with his handwriting?” asked Ned.
“I have a couple of specimens,” replied Jerry. He drew from his pocket
some slips of paper. “One is that letter he wrote to us some time ago,”
said Jerry, “when he accused us of being responsible for his running
away from home the time he rode off in his father’s auto. The other is
that bill he gave us for the fifteen dollars damage to the rowboat. I
picked it up after Ned threw it at Noddy that Sunday.”
“And you think the writing in the kidnapping note is like some of
this?” asked Ned.
“I’m sure of it,” went on Jerry. “Besides, who would kidnap Noddy? It’s
true, his father is wealthy, and able to pay a ransom, but don’t you
suppose Noddy would raise a cry if some one tried to walk off with him?”
“Maybe he did, but he might have been all alone, and no one heard him,”
suggested Bob.
“Noddy doesn’t go out very much alone,” said Jerry. “He has Bill Berry
or some other crony of his with him. Of course I’m only guessing
at it, but I wouldn’t be a bit surprised to find out that Noddy’s
disappearance had some connection with this robbery.”
“You don’t mean to say you think Noddy robbed my father’s store?” asked
Ned.
“Oh no, not quite that,” said Jerry.
“What then?”
“Well, I think Noddy has gotten in with a bad gang. Some of them may
have done this robbery, and in order to get him out of the way, for
fear he might disclose something, they have arranged this kidnapping
hoax. He may be a sort of captive, but he is among friends, I’m sure of
that.”
“Why don’t you tell Chief Dalton this?” asked Bob.
“And get laughed at for my pains,” said Jerry. “I guess not. The chief
has his hands full. Perhaps he doesn’t believe Noddy is kidnapped, but
he will not say so. Mr. Nixon is one of the biggest men in town, and
the chief wants to please him. So he’ll naturally fall in with Mr.
Nixon’s notions, and try to pretend he believes Noddy is a captive.”
“Then what are we to do?” asked Chunky, to whom the events of the last
few hours came in bewildering rapidity.
“I think the best thing for us to do is to go camping just as we
planned,” said Jerry. “I don’t believe we can do much here, do you Ned?”
“No, I don’t s’pose we can,” replied that youth. “I did want to help
dad, but as long as the stuff is gone, and there is some clue to the
thieves, I don’t see that I can do any more. I’m for going to camp.”
“Well, let’s go then,” said Bob. “I’m anxious to get out in the woods
where I’ll have an appetite.”
“Good land! If you get up any more of an appetite than you have now,
Chunky,” said Ned, “I don’t know what we’ll do with you. Can’t you do
something for it? Take Anti-Fat or Padded Pellets for Peculiar People
or something that’s advertised in the backs of magazines. It’s terrible
to have such an appetite as you have.”
“I guess you’d think so, sometimes,” remarked Bob, as he looked at his
watch and noted with satisfaction that it was nearly dinner time.
“Come on down to my house for lunch!” exclaimed Ned, divining Bob’s
thoughts. “We can talk matters over with dad, and see if it’s all right
to go.”
Mr. Slade saw no objection to the boys making the trip. His loss, while
a heavy one, did not cripple him, as he was a rich man. He thanked the
boys for their thoughtfulness in offering to give up their pleasure
trip to help him, but said he did not see there was anything they could
do.
“I guess the police will find the robbers if it’s possible,” he added.
“At the same time, if you run across any clues on the lake you can let
us know. It seems to be the belief of the officials that the robbers
came and went in a boat. It might have been a power or a sail boat. If
it happens to come on the lake with my valuables and goods in, if you
get them I’ll give you a reward,” and he laughed for the first time
that day.
“We may claim that reward,” said Jerry.
The boys made an early start the next morning and, just as it was
getting dusk they made a turn in the broadening river, and, saw spread
out before them a big sheet of water.
Lake Cantoga was about fifteen miles long and nine wide. There were
several small islands in it, and these, as well as the shores were
favorite spots for camping parties. The boys decided to pick out one of
the islands, but, as it was getting dark, they could not see which one
had not been selected by other campers.
“I think we had better tie up along shore to-night,” said Jerry, as he
steered the boat out upon the lake. “We can look about better in the
morning.”
“Suits me,” said Bob, and Ned agreed.
As the _Dartaway_ skimmed out from the shadows of the shore she
was seen by the owners of other power boats, and greeted with the
regulation three whistles, to which Jerry replied.
“Guess they’re glad to see us,” he remarked. “I had no idea there were
so many here this year. Maybe we’ll get a race.”
“That will be bully sport,” said Bob.
“Going to camp here?” called the steersman of one boat, which, as the
boys could see, was evidently built for racing, as there was little
room for anything but the engine.
“We figure on staying a week or so,” replied Jerry.
“Glad of it,” replied the stranger. “My name’s Smith, just plain John
Smith. I’m camping with some friends over on Coon’s Island. Come over
and see us when you get settled.”
“Thanks,” answered Jerry. “Are there any other good islands to camp on?”
“There’s Deer Island, next to ours,” replied Mr. Smith. “It’s a nice
place, and hasn’t been taken yet this year. Why don’t you come there?”
“Maybe we will,” replied Jerry. “We’re going to tie up along shore for
to-night.”
“Be pleased to have you put up at my shack,” said the owner of the
racing boat. “Got lots of room.”
“Thank you, we’ll rough it for to-night,” said Jerry. “We’ll look you
up to-morrow.”
“Well, then, good-night,” called Mr. Smith, and he opened up his boat
and shot away in a smother of foam. “Hope you go in the races,” he
called back, but he was too far away then to be answered.
“Let’s have supper,” broke in Bob. “We can talk about racing to-morrow.”
Jerry sent the boat under some overhanging trees. She was made fast
with bow and stern lines, and then the boys, having lighted several
lanterns, and the big search lamp, prepared supper.