DUMMY “GETS IN GOOD”
There was not a weapon found on the three robbers, save the blackjack.
The sheriff’s pistol was lost; but once the gangsters had been subdued,
they made no effort to attack their captors again.
Besides, Billy and Dummy stood over them with their clubs while Dan took
one of the dim lights from the sleigh and went through the storm to find
the iceboat on which the thieves had reached the spot.
He found it, got some rope, and the wrists of the three captives were
tied behind them. And as Dan and Billy were the ones who did the tying
you may be sure they made the bonds quite as taut as their own had been!
“I don’t see as those fellows have done her any harm, Billy,” the older
boy told his brother in a whisper. “But she’s almost buried in the
snow.”
“And how’ll we get her back to-night?” demanded Billy, anxiously.
“I’m afraid we’re not likely to.”
“Who knows what will happen to the _Follow Me_ away out here? Crickey,
Dan! let’s stay and watch her.”
But they could not do that. In the first place, the girls would not hear
of it.
“You stay here, Dan Speedwell?” gasped Mildred. “No, indeed! You
mustn’t!”
“Why, I’ll never speak to you again if you don’t go back to town with
us, Billy,” declared Lettie, with quite as much emphasis.
“You can see just how we stand with these young ladies, Parker,” broke
in the jolly sheriff. “The Speedwell boys forever! And I don’t know but
the girls are about right. We wouldn’t have got this bunch if it hadn’t
been for the boys.
“Besides, what they tell me makes me believe that this adventure has
been a very fortunate one indeed. These men were after those buried
plates and the other evidence. They have maltreated this poor chap,” and
he put his hand on Dummy’s shoulder. “Tom Davis, here, undoubtedly heard
about the buried box before he left the penitentiary. Some of his pals
are already there, and prisoners have ways of circulating intelligence.
“Tom, here, got these other two blacklegs to help him, and they thought
they’d make a getaway with the box. Now we’ll take that box along with
us to Riverdale.”
Dummy and Dan went to the stranded iceboat again and brought back the
ironbound box. It was all they cared to stagger under in that storm.
As soon as Dummy had been made to understand who the sheriff was, he
made no objection to giving up the box. Indeed, he seemed glad to be
quit of the responsibility.
“And let me tell you, there is a reward coming to somebody for the
recovery of that box, if not for the arrest of these three fellows,”
said Sheriff Kimball. “I shall see to it that this poor lad gets his
share.”
“Well, we may say that _this_ ill wind is going to blow somebody good,
then,” remarked Mr. Parker. “But I believe it is blowing harder than
ever, Kimball. Do you know where we are?”
The sheriff had little idea; but Dan knew. His compass came into play
and they found that the horses had really headed around and were going
up stream again when they made their halt.
“We certainly got well turned around,” admitted the county clerk.
“Now, you see, Pa!” exclaimed Lettie. “You big men would have dragged us
around in the snow all night, and we’d been lost, and frozen up tight
maybe——”
“I don’t see that your boy knights are going to do much better,”
returned Mr. Parker, rather grimly. “This is a bad storm. I wish we had
never left that farmhouse, Kimball.”
“So do I,” admitted the sheriff.
“We can’t all pile into this sleigh—the horses can scarcely draw it as
it is. That box is a weight, and no mistake.”
“I say, sir,” said Dan to the sheriff, again consulting the compass. “I
know we can get to John Bromley’s dock, all right. It is a good
distance, but as long as we know which way to head, we’re bound to bring
up there if we keep near enough the shore.”
“Sensibly said, boy,” agreed Parker.
“I’ll walk ahead of the horses. You can’t get them out of a walk,
anyway,” pursued Dan. “You folks get into the sleigh again, and let
those fellows walk behind. Billy and Dummy will see that they don’t fall
out of the procession.”
The sheriff made one amendment to this. He refused to ride in the
sleigh, but made Mr. Parker and the girls snuggle down under the robes.
He declared he preferred to keep moving, anyway, and he led the colts
himself.
They acted better with him at their heads, for the poor beasts were
frightened and pretty well winded. Thus the procession started—and there
were no stragglers. The dummy and Billy Speedwell saw to that.
They were all tired and half-blinded by the snow and wind; but the work
kept their blood in circulation. Those afoot were better off than Mr.
Parker and the girls.
The three prisoners suffered a good deal before long. It is not easy to
walk at any time with one’s hands tied behind one’s back; but to wade
through knee-deep snowdrifts under those conditions is very hard indeed.
The cords around their wrists stopped the circulation, too; and the men
were in danger of suffering frost-bitten hands. Tom Davis, the
ex-convict and the ugliest man in the trio, was the quickest to suffer
and make his suffering known.
Like every other bully, he was a coward. He had invented the way to
torture Dummy when they desired to know where the hidden box lay, and he
had exulted in the lad’s pain. But he could not have held out against
the scorching for a minute.
Now he begged and pleaded with Billy to loosen his bonds. He even cried
and declared his hands would “freeze and drop off.”
“Then, by crickey!” exclaimed young Speedwell, “you’ll be able to keep
them out of other people’s pockets. Get on with you!” and he poked the
fellow in the back with his stick.
“It was all right when you tied us up and left us to starve, or freeze
in that cave on the island,” pursued Master Billy. “You might have known
you were bound to get yours.”
Tom blubbered along, stumbling through the snow, and even his mates
scorned him.
They were not a pleasant party, to say the least. Once or twice one of
the prisoners fell. Billy and Dummy helped him up again; and they were
sure that the cords held. The guards did not neglect their captives at
any stage of the game.
The procession moved slowly on, Dan in the lead. He brought them in near
to the high bank of the Colasha. There were farmhouses somewhere along
the riverside; but the bank was so steep that it would have been very
difficult to get the horses up to the highway. Furthermore, in this
blinding snowstorm, it was impossible to see a light.
They struggled on with a desperate attempt at cheerfulness, shouting
encouragement to each other, and trying to be brave. But the snow was
piling into such drifts against the shore that it was scarcely possible
for them to win through.
“Don’t know but we’ll have to strike out on to the clearer ice again,
sir,” suggested Dan to Mr. Kimball.
“Where’d you find a piece of cleared ice—unless you cleared it
yourself?” grumbled the sheriff. “This is a _nice_ mess!”
“It’s tough on the team,” admitted Dan. “But I reckon we’ll pull through
after a fashion.”
“I admire your pluck, lad,” grunted the sheriff. “And it’s one o’clock
right now!”
“Then we ought to be somewhere near old John’s. He can’t be very far
ahead——There! isn’t that a light?”
“Where?” exclaimed the sheriff, excitedly.
“Dead ahead. Don’t you see? It’s moving! I believe that’s the little
searchlight we rigged on Bromley’s wharf. Yes, sir! The good old fellow!
He’s hoping we will see it—Billy and I—and be able to get back in the
iceboat.”
“Iceboat!” snorted the sheriff. “You’ve a fat chance of ever seeing your
iceboat tied up at this dock again until the snow goes away.”
“Well, now!” exclaimed Dan, with some emphasis. “You just watch. Billy
and I don’t propose to let our _Follow Me_ lie out there on the river
for very long. We’re going to win the races next week in that boat, and
don’t you forget it!”
“I wish I had your hope, boy,” grunted the county officer. “Come up,
Dandy! What’s the matter with you, Poke?”
It _was_ the light on Bromley’s dock. The old boatman had recovered from
the rough usage he had received at the hands of the three robbers, and
was out on the watch for the Speedwell boys.
To say he was surprised at the appearance of the procession is to but
faintly express old John’s emotions.
“Strike my colors!” he ejaculated. “This is the beatenest thing I ever
see. And I’d made up my mind that Master Dan and Billy had got into
trouble this time for sure.”
“And you were quite right—we did,” admitted Dan, tenderly arranging the
bandages on his wrists.
“And you got them sculpins?” said the boatman, eyeing the three
exhausted captives with much disfavor. “Well! the rest of you pile into
my house an’ git warm. Let them fellers stay out here and freeze a bit
more.”
But he was not as bad as all that. Old John opened the fishhouse and
built a fire in the little stove there, and soon the three prisoners
were getting warm, too.
Mr. Parker telephoned to his home and to Dr. Kent’s and so relieved the
anxiety of the girls’ mothers. Dan called up his own house and caught
his father just before he started for the barn to get the milk truck
ready.
“Though, in this storm, it is lucky if we get around. I shall take Bob
and Betty, rather than the motor truck,” said Mr. Speedwell. “Your
mother says to bring that poor boy home with you. We must look after
him.”
“And I tell you,” said the enthusiastic Billy, to Mildred and Lettie,
“Dummy is going to ‘get in good’—don’t you forget that! Sheriff Kimball
says there will be several hundred dollars coming to him.”
“If there’s any chance of a doctor’s helping him your father will know,
Mildred,” said Dan. “Make him promise to come out and see Dummy just as
soon as he can.”
“I will,” Mildred declared. “He is a real nice boy, I think. And if he
learns to talk and goes to school——”
“Oh, he’ll do all of that!” promised Dan. “We’ll see to it, Billy and
I.”
“Do see that he gets a new name—or a better one, at least,” suggested
Lettie Parker. “Anybody would be handicapped with such a nickname as
_he_ has had.”
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