DAVE DASHAWAY’S HIDEOUT
The old cracked school bell back at the Warner place awoke the echoes
far and wide as Dave ran on. As he came to the corner of the road
leading past the home of his friend, Ned Towner, he paused for a moment
to take breath and estimate the situation back of him.
The bell had by this time ceased its loud clangor. Dave saw lights
appear beyond the house. He fancied, too, that he heard voices in the
distance. It was not yet very late, and he guessed that, if only out of
curiosity, some of the neighbors would appear upon the scene.
“There’s somebody coming from the other direction.” He spoke quickly,
jumped the ditch, and plunged in among the clump of underbrush just in
time to avoid three running forms hurrying down the road.
“It’s the Bolger boys,” said Dave, peering forth from his covert.
“Hustle, fellows,” the oldest of the trio was urging.
“Yes, there’s some kind of a rumpus up at the Warner place,” added a
second voice.
“Hope it’s a fire,” piped in a third, reckless voice. “That would make a
regular celebration, after the airships.”
Dave, from what he overheard, judged that the Bolgers were on their way
from the village when attracted by the commotion at the Warner farm.
Others might soon appear, Dave mused, and struck out across a meadow. He
knew that it would be risky to go into the village or nearer to it. In a
very short time, thought Dave, his guardian would have the sheriff and
his assistants looking for him.
The lad thought rapidly. He planned that if he could reach the switching
yards of the railroad, he might get aboard some freight car and ride
safely out of the district. He ran along a wide ditch which lined the
Bolger farm, intending to leap it at a narrow part and cut thence across
a patch of low land to the railroad tracks.
“O—oh!” suddenly ejaculated Dave, and fell flat, the breath nearly
knocked out of his body.
He squirmed about, wincing with a severe pain in one ankle, and
wondering what had tripped and still held him a prisoner.
“It’s a trap,” said Dave, as he got to a sitting position and
investigated. “It’s a muskrat trap set by the Bolger boys, I guess.”
The blunt edges of the trap, which was secured by a chain to a stake
driven into the ground, did not hurt him particularly. It was the severe
wrench, the sudden stopping, that had caused the trouble. Dave pried the
trap loose and got to his feet.
“Hello, this is serious,” he spoke, as he found that he could not
progress without limping, and then, only very slowly.
Dave looked about him with some concern. The commotion in the direction
of the Warner place was increasing. He fancied he heard the hoofs of a
horse coming down the road.
“It won’t do to linger here,” he said. “They would be sure to find me. I
don’t believe I can get to the railroad with this foot. I have certainly
sprained my ankle.”
Dave had done nothing of the kind, but he did not know it at the moment.
The moon was shining full and high. He looked about him for some hiding
place.
He limped along the edge of the ditch, despairing of being able to cross
it. Suddenly a suggestive idea came to him as he made out the home of
his friend, Ned.
“If I can manage to get to the barn on the Towner place, I know where to
hide safe enough,” he mused.
His foot hurt him dreadfully, but he kept on, got past the rails of the
pasture enclosure, and came up to the barn at the end away from the
house and the road. The loft door was open, and cleats ran up on the
outside boards. Dave sunk down all in a heap in among the fresh
sweet-smelling hay. The pain left him as soon as his weight was removed
from his foot, but he was quite exhausted from the efforts he had made.
The boy rubbed his foot ruefully and listened to distant sounds floating
on the night air. Finally he crept over to the corner of the barn
fartherest away from the opening leading to the lower floor. There was
no danger of any one coming to that spot. There was a broad crack in the
boards there, and Dave could look out towards the road.
Dave caught sight of a horseman dashing along the highway in the
direction of the village. Then he made out the three Bolger boys
returning to their home. A little later two men appeared. One of them
was leading a horse.
“It’s Mr. Warner and our nearest neighbor, and they’ve got old Dobbin
with them,” said Dave.
He saw his guardian go to the front of the Towner home. A light appeared
inside, and in a few minutes Mr. Towner came around the corner of the
house with Mr. Warner. The horse was led up to the barn.
“I’m sorry Dave has run away, Mr. Warner,” Mr. Towner remarked.
“Oh, we’ll catch him,” replied Dave’s guardian. “A bad boy, sir, a very
bad boy.”
“Why, I never thought that.”
“But he is. He broke into my desk, and has stolen money and other
property of mine.”
The listening Dave fired up at this bold and false accusation. He was
half minded to go down into the yard and face his accuser with the proof
of the falsity of his charge.
“If you’ll just let me take any old rig to hitch up Dobbin to, it’ll be
an accommodation,” went on Warner. “That runaway rascal maliciously
smashed the wheel of my only wagon this evening.”
Mr. Towner pulled a light vehicle out of a shed, and Dobbin was hitched
up. Silas Warner and his neighbor drove off, and Mr. Towner went back to
bed.
Dave was worried and disturbed for a long time, even after things had
quieted down. In his present crippled condition he did not dare venture
outside. He was snug and safe for the time being at least, and finally
he dropped off into a sound sleep.
The youth awoke to find the sun shining through the half-open hay door.
He crept over to it as he fancied he heard some one moving about in the
yard below. Dave was gratified to find his foot in much improved
condition over the night previous. It was still a bit lame and stiff,
but he could bear his weight upon it without flinching.
“Glad the ankle isn’t sprained or broken,” he told himself cheerfully.
“I believe I could walk with it, and maybe try a run, if I had to.”
He was much refreshed by his sleep, but both hungry and thirsty. His
face brightened up considerably as he heard some one clucking in the
chicken yard, and glancing down recognized Ned Towner.
Dave did not know who might be in the stable below or in the vicinity.
He leaned towards the loft door and gave a low but distinct whistle. It
was one he and his chum used often in signalling one another.
“Hello!”
Ned Towner dropped the pan out of which he was throwing corn to the
chickens. He looked about him in a startled way. Then he came out of the
poultry yard, trying to locate the source of the call.
“It’s Dave,” the lurker in the hay loft heard him mutter. “No one
else—Dave.”
“S—st!”
Dave had shown his face and waved his hand from the door aperture.
“Dave!” repeated Ned, in still further wonderment.
“Yes, it’s me,” responded Dave in a hurried, cautious tone of voice.
“Anybody else about?”
“Not a soul.”
“All at breakfast?”
“Yes.”
“Come up here, will you?”
“You bet I will, and mighty glad to see you,” cried Ned, with vim and
sincerity. “Now then—what?”
Reaching the loft Ned challenged his friend, curious and excited, as if
he expected that Dave would have a great story to tell.
“You know what has happened,” said Dave.
“That you ran away last night—yes. They are talking about nothing else
in the house yonder. Say, tell me about it, for I know old Warner’s tale
is all bosh.”
“The robbery end of it is, you can rely on that,” replied Dave, and he
recited briefly his adventures and misadventures since they had last
met.
“Say,” cried Ned, when Dave had concluded his story, “you just stick to
your plan.”
“I intend to,” answered Dave sturdily.
“If ever you go back, or they get you back, life will just be unbearable
to you. Old Warner has branded you as a thief, and he’s mean enough to
keep the advantage. Tell me, how can I help you?”
“Well, of course I’m pretty hungry,” said Dave with a laugh.
“I’ll fix that end of it,” promised Ned. “Just wait till father and the
hired men get off to work in the field, and I’ll see that you get a
first-class breakfast.”
Ned had to leave his friend just then, for some one was calling him from
the house. A few minutes later Dave saw Mr. Towner and his hired men
come to the stable, hitch up two teams and drive over beyond the trees
lining the yard.
In half-an-hour Ned came up through the inside of the barn. He produced
a package done up in paper, and then took two bottles from his pockets.
“Hot coffee, cold water, biscuits, some bacon, gingerbread and two hard
boiled eggs,” he reported.
“Why, this is just famous,” declared Dave with zest.
“Here’s a book, too. Say, it will just suit your fancy,” added Ned,
bringing the volume out from under his coat. “It’s a great story. I got
it down at the library yesterday. I thought of you when I picked it
out.”
“What is it called?” inquired Dave, his mouth full of good food.
“‘Modern Wonders of the Air’—up to date, too. It tells all about
balloons and early airships. Too scientific for me, but I’ll bet it will
be easy as A. B. C. to you.”
“I don’t know about that,” said Dave, “but it will be right welcome. I’m
thinking I had better keep hidden away for today, anyhow.”
“I should say you had,” assented Ned forcibly. “Why—but I haven’t had a
chance to tell you until now.”
“What about?”
“Two of our hired men saw the sheriff and old Warner early this
morning.”
“Are they still looking for me?”
“The officers and your guardian were out till daylight, scurrying around
the country in every direction. The sheriff’s men have driven to three
or four neighboring towns. They are watching the railroad depot, and
there isn’t a soul in town who isn’t on the lookout for you.”
“I suppose that Mr. Warner has made me out to be a regular boy villain,”
suggested Dave, looking serious.
“He has, but your friends know better. And soon as you are away safe and
sure, I’ll just make it my special business to face old Warner down with
the real facts. You’re not thinking of leaving this hide-out in the
daytime, Dave?”
“I dare not take the risk of being seen now.”
“Then make yourself comfortable till I come home from school at noon,”
said Ned.
Dave felt immensely better after his breakfast. He had a true friend to
aid him and keep him posted, a safe hide-out, and an interesting book to
read. Dave stole down to the lower floor of the barn after a spell and
took a dip in the water trough. Then he resumed his comfortable couch on
the sweet-smelling hay, and for two hours was engrossed in reading.
With what he knew, and what he desired, and the way circumstances seemed
to be leading him, Dave felt that he was destined to soon know a good
deal more than he did about air sailing.
He got to planning his course of flight when he started out again. Then
he fell to dreaming, went to sleep, and had the delicious sensation of
being aboard of a real airship, himself a full-fledged aviator.
------------------------------------------------------------------------