AN EVENING DRIVE
Although the weather had been threatening all day, Mildred Kent went
over to Lettie Parker’s house after supper, as she had promised. There
had been no school for several days, but the girls were just as busy as
Dan and Billy Speedwell. They were hard at work finishing certain
Christmas presents.
To tell the truth, Lettie’s present was for Billy Speedwell, and was a
handsome silk scarf—thick and warm—that the bronze-haired girl had been
at work on for several days. Now her nimble fingers flew as she sat and
gossiped with the doctor’s daughter. Meanwhile the latter was completing
the initials “D. S.” she was embroidering in the corners of six very
handsome handkerchiefs.
“And there’s another thing, Milly,” Lettie was saying, “that I want to
see Billy about. There’s something going on up at Island Number One, and
they say Dan and Billy know about it.”
“What do you mean?” asked Mildred, calmly.
“Something queer. You know what the boys said about that fellow they
call ‘Dummy’?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Well, Sheriff Kimball told my father that the Speedwells are at the
island a good deal, and that the dumb boy is a member of a gang of
outlaws. Now, what do you think of _that_?”
“What nonsense!” exclaimed Mildred, her eyes very big and round.
“It’s not nonsense at all. I’m telling you the truth,” said the
bronze-haired young lady, sharply.
“Of course. I don’t mean that you are not telling the truth. But this
sheriff must be crazy to believe that Dan and Billy would know any
outlaws. What kind of outlaws?”
“I’m sure I don’t know. But Sheriff Kimball has been twice to see father
about it. Dan and Billy are bound to get into trouble if they don’t look
out.”
“How ridiculous. I don’t believe there is anybody on the island.”
“We saw that dummy ourselves,” declared Lettie, her lips pursed.
“But you went all over the island with Billy afterward. You didn’t find
any hiding place.”
“The sheriff says it’s there. He has reason to know, he states. There
was some man—so he says—who broke with the outlaws and ‘turned State’s
evidence,’ he calls it. Sheriff Kimball says he has been waiting for two
months for this boy who can’t talk very well to come and see him. The
man who confessed said he would send all the evidence by this dummy. And
you know he was at Billy’s house and the boys never told the sheriff——”
“Why should they?” demanded Mildred, startled.
“Well, you know what the boys said about finding a slip of paper after
the dummy went away, and what was written on the paper? It said: ‘Buried
on the island. Dummy will show you the spot.’ Sheriff Kimball says that
doubtless referred to the evidence Harry Biggin meant him to have.”
“Harry Biggin?”
“That’s the name of the man who broke with the outlaws and is helping
the officers get the crowd.”
“He’s an informer,” asserted Mildred, with scorn.
“But that doesn’t help the matter any. If Dan and Billy have foolishly
got themselves mixed up in it——”
“Mixed up in _what_?” demanded Mildred, with some heat. To Mildred
Kent’s mind it was impossible that Dan Speedwell could ever be in any
real trouble—that is, trouble that came about through his not being
“perfectly straight.” Billy, perhaps, might be foolish; but never Dan!
Just as she spoke there was a jingling of sleigh bells at the door of
the Parker house. There had been little sleighing this winter, save on
the river; but a couple of days before, a trifle of snow had
fallen—enough to crust the Riverdale streets and the drives in and out
of the town.
“Here’s Mr. Kimball now—I do believe!” cried Lettie, jumping up and
running to a front window. “Yes! he said he was going up the river to
the Biggin place, and he’d stop for father——”
“This Harry Biggin,” said Mildred, suddenly. “Is he one of those farmers
on the other side of the river?”
“Yes. They own that big place near Meadville, only on the other bank.”
“And he says Dan and Billy are connected with robbers—or outlaws—or
something——”
“I never said so!”
“I’m going to ask Mr. Kimball what he means, then,” said Mildred,
firmly, and putting aside her work she arose and went quickly to the
hall door.
Mr. Parker was welcoming the sheriff at the door. The latter was a tall,
thin and wiry man, dressed in a long gray ulster belted at the waist. If
old John Bromley could have seen him he would have immediately
recognized the man he had driven away from his dock while the Speedwells
were trying out their new motor-iceboat.
“Hullo!” said the jolly county clerk. “It’s only my girl and her chum.
How are you, Milly?” and he pinched the cheek of the doctor’s daughter.
But Mildred was too anxious to be anything but direct. “Oh! I beg your
pardon, sir,” she said, to the man in the ulster. “But are you the
sheriff?”
“Of course he is!” chuckled Mr. Parker. “Have you some mysterious
evidence you want to put before him——”
“That’s just what she’s got, Dad!” cried Lettie, giggling.
“I’ll be glad to take up any case Miss Mildred has to offer,” said the
county official, his eyes twinkling.
“It isn’t that. I want to know about Dan and Billy Speedwell. They
_can’t_ have done anything wrong——”
“There it is again, Kimball,” exclaimed the county clerk, slapping the
sheriff on the shoulder. “You start anything about Dan and Billy in this
neighborhood, and even the girls will be after you.”
“But what’s their game up there at the island?”
“They have no game there,” said Mildred, with a very determined look.
“And at that old fellow’s wharf up the river. I’m not known much around
that section. I’m from the other end of the county, and having only been
in office six months, everybody doesn’t know I’m sheriff,” and Mr.
Kimball laughed.
“To-day I was watching Island Number One for—well, for a reason. I saw
those two boys racing over there in a most marvelous iceboat run by a
motor——”
“Oh, jolly!” exclaimed Lettie, breaking in. “They’ve built the new boat,
then.”
“Wait, Kimball,” interposed Mr. Parker. “Tell the girls something more.
I can see Mildred is interested.”
“She is if you are going to arrest Billy and Dan Speedwell,” laughed
Lettie, who was just as full of fun as her father, and was not above
teasing her chum on occasion.
“Well, I tell you!” exclaimed the sheriff, smiling. “I’m in a hurry. The
Biggins, like all farmer folk, go to bed early, and I hear that Harry
has dared creep home again and may be there to-night. I’m in a hurry, as
I say; but I’ve got a two-seated sleigh here, and plenty of robes, and
about the fastest pair of horses in this county—raised ’em myself. What
say if we all—you, too, Parker—drive up the river, and on the way I’ll
explain how the Speedwells seem to be mixed up with the Steinforth
counterfeiting gang.”
“The Steinforth counterfeiters?” gasped Mr. Parker. “That’s more than
you’ve told me before, Kimball.”
“Yes. But it seems we have about got things to a head now. Something is
going to break soon, and I’ll risk talking a little. Want to go,
Parker?”
“We’ll go,” said Mr. Parker, looking at the girls. “Just ’phone your
mother, Milly, that you are going sleighing with me.”
“That’s all right,” said the sheriff, with a boyish laugh, and he ran
out to spread the robes for the girls in the rear seat. Not a flake of
snow had fallen yet, but the night was starless, and the wind cut
sharply.
They got under way in ten minutes. The black horses were young and they
had been standing in the stable behind Appleyard’s all day, and were
very restive. The girls squealed a little as they clipped the corners
going down to the open ice.
From River Street a path had been made down to the shore. It was an easy
slant and the runners of the sleigh fairly pushed the horses on their
haunches.
“Easy, boys! _now_ we have it!” cried the sheriff, coaxingly. He handled
the colts as though he loved them, and they tossed their heads, and
pricked their ears forward, and seemed to know that he would let them
out in a minute and give them a chance to show their mettle.
Their shoes had just been sharpened, and when they clattered out upon
the clear ice they left little marks every time their dancing hoofs
landed.
That did not seem to be often, at the pace they took when first Mr.
Kimball let them out. They whipped the sleigh behind them as though it
was of a feather’s weight. The two little lamps—one set at each side of
the dash—sent twinkling, narrow rays of yellow light along the ice,
glistening on each little imperfection. It seemed as though where the
light fell a trail of stardust had been laid.
But there were no other lights upon the ice. With the keen wind blowing
stronger, none of the boats were out from the Boat Club cove where all
but the Speedwells’ craft were kept. And there were few skaters out on
the river to-night.
For several miles—until they had swung past the lower end of Island
Number One, indeed—Mr. Kimball had no chance for much talk. The girls
were delighted with the drive now.
“It’s almost as good as being on the boys’ ice yacht,” declared Lettie.
“And now, what about the Speedwells and this Steinforth counterfeiting
gang, Kimball?” demanded Mr. Parker, laying a hand upon the sheriff’s
arm.
------------------------------------------------------------------------