AN ANGRY FARMER.
"Can we be of any assistance?" asked Rob Blake of the girl, whose alarmed
looks made it evident that she was in an unpleasant situation. He ignored
the red-faced, angry farmer, but took note out of the corner of his eye
of Jared, who was peeping out at them from behind a shed. Apparently he
had no wish to appear on the scene while his late employer's daughter was
there. To himself he muttered:--
"It's that stuck-up Rob Blake, that butter-firkin, Tubby Hopkins and that
sissy, Merritt Crawford. They're always butting in when they're not
wanted."
The girl turned gratefully to the newcomers. Rob's firm voice and capable
appearance made her feel, as did no less her scrutiny of his companions,
that here were friends in need.
"Oh, thank you so much!" she cried. "I am Lucy Mainwaring, and you, I'm
sure, are Rob Blake, leader of the Eagle Patrol. I've heard lots about
you from my brother Fred, who is leader of the Black Wolf Patrol, First
New York Troop."
"Yes, I'm Rob Blake, this is Merritt Crawford, my second in command, and
this is Tub--I mean Robert Hopkins."
"I know all on yer," growled out old Applegate, "an' I tell yer to keep
out of this. Just 'cause yer a banker's son, young Blake, don't give you
no right ter come interferin' where yer not wanted."
"Oh, but they _are_ wanted!" cried the girl, before Rob could say a word.
"This man says that I ran over one of his pigs. Why, it's absurd. I only
just bumped the animal, and there he is over there now fighting for his
breakfast."
Her eyes fairly bubbled merriment as Jake's raucous squeals rose
belligerently from the neighborhood of the hog pens. Tubby spoke up.
"If he can eat, he's all right," announced the stout youth with his
customary solemnity.
"But I've grazed the wretched pig twice before," cried the girl, "and Mr.
Applegate wants fifteen dollars or he won't help me out of this ditch."
"That's right," confirmed the farmer, "fifteen dollars er she goes afore
the justice fer--fer running over Jake."
"But she didn't run over him," retorted Rob, "and anyhow, fifteen dollars
is an outrageous price to ask for your real or fancied injuries."
"The hog's injuries," corrected the farmer.
"Same thing almost," whispered Merritt to Tubby with a chuckle.
"Come on, boys," said Rob, "let's help this young lady out of the ditch."
The girl turned on the power and the three Boy Scouts shoved with all
their might at the rear of the machine. It quivered, started, stopped,
and then fairly dashed up on to the road. So quickly had it all been done
that before the farmer could make a move the runabout was on the
thoroughfare.
"Lucindy! Lucindy, let Towser loose!" yelled the old man as soon as he
had recovered his senses.
The woman ran off the porch and in a few seconds a big, savage-looking
bull dog came bounding out, showing his red fangs and white teeth.
The girl gave a little scream as the dog looked up at his master,
apparently waiting an order to rush at the boys.
"Go on!" Rob said to the girl in a quick, low whisper, "we'll be all
right."
"Oh, but I can't! You've helped me----"
"That was our duty as Scouts. Now turn on your power and get away. We'll
find a way to deal with the old man, never fear."
Seeing that it was useless to remain, the girl applied the power once
more and the machine shot out of sight.
"Consarn you pesky brats," roared old Applegate, fairly beside himself.
"Sic 'em, Towse!" he shouted the next instant.
Rob had been prepared for some such move as this. As the dog, with a
savage growl, sprang forward, he brought his staff into play. There was a
flash of the implement, a quick twist, and the astonished Towser found
himself spinning backward in the direction from which he had advanced.
"Don't set that dog on us again," cried Rob, in a clear, commanding
voice, "if you do, he'll get hurt."
"Consarn you!" bellowed the farmer again, "air you aidin' and abettin'
lawless acts?"
"As far as that goes, your hog had no business in the middle of the
road," was the quiet rejoinder.
"I'll go to law about this," shouted the farmer furiously, brandishing
his knotted fist. But he made no attempt to "sic" Towser on the boys
again. As for that redoubtable animal, he stood by his master, his tail
between his legs. To use the vernacular, he appeared to be wondering
"what had struck him."
As there was nothing to be gained by remaining, the three Boy Scouts
started off anew on the last stage of their "hike," which had been one of
twenty-four miles started the day before to visit a patrol in a distant
town on the island. They struck off briskly, as boys will when home is
almost in sight and appetites are keen. The farmer, seeing that nothing
was to be gained by abusing them any further, contented himself by
calling them "young varmints" and turned back toward his house.
The boys had not proceeded many paces when they heard behind them the
quick "chug-chug" of a motor cycle. Turning, they saw coming toward them
a youth of about Rob's age, mounted on a red motor cycle which, from the
noise it made, appeared to be of high power. As he drew alongside them
they noticed that he, too, was in Scout uniform, and that from the handle
bars on his machine fluttered a flag with a black wolf's head on it. The
newcomer stopped his machine, nimbly alighted and gave the Scout salute,
which the boys returned.
"My name is Fred Mainwaring of the Black Wolf Patrol of the First New
York Troop," he announced, "have you seen anything of a young lady
driving an electric runabout?"
The boys exchanged amused glances. Then Rob recounted the scene in front
of the farmhouse. He also introduced himself and his patrol mates. Fred
Mainwaring, a fine-looking, curly-haired lad, appeared much diverted.
"That's just like sis," he exclaimed, "she's always getting in trouble
with that auto of hers; doing things she aut-n't to, so to speak. Excuse
the pun. It's a bad habit of mine. She went for a spin this morning and
wouldn't wait for me, so now behold me in chase of her."
After some more chat, during which Fred Mainwaring received a hearty
invitation to visit the quarters of the Eagle Patrol in Hampton, the boys
parted, very well pleased with each other. The young scouts of the Eagle
Patrol already knew much about the Mainwaring family, Mr. Mainwaring
having recently purchased an estate just out of Hampton. The newcomer to
the community was preceded by an almost world-wide reputation as a
skillful engineer. Many of the great problems in connection with Uncle
Sam's "Big Ditch" had been successfully solved by him, and, although just
now he was at home on a "furlough," he was shortly to leave once more for
the Zone.
During the course of their brief chat Fred had informed the boys that he
and his sister were to accompany their father on the return voyage, Fred
taking the position of secretary.
"He had another chap before he came up from the tropics," he informed the
boys. "I guess he lives somewhere round here. Jared Applegate his name
was. Had to fire him, though, for some sort of crooked work. I don't know
just what it was; but it must have been something pretty bad, for dad got
mighty angry when he told about it. You see, in a way I feel responsible.
Jared, who was working as a stenographer and typewriter in New York,
belonged to my troop. I liked him after a fashion, and got dad to make
him his secretary. It wasn't till after he'd left for Panama that I
accidentally found out that Jared, who had been treasurer of the troop,
had been stealing small sums from time to time.
"I didn't notify dad for fear of worrying him; but of course Jared was
dropped from the troop. When dad got back from the Isthmus this time I
asked about Jared and found out that he had been discharged. Just what
for, I don't know. Dad wouldn't tell me."
"We know something of Jared's reputation about here," rejoined Rob. "It's
none too good. By the way, that's his father's place back there where
your sister had all the trouble."
"I knew that his home was somewhere near Hampton," was the rejoinder.
This conversation took place on the roadside not more than a few feet
from a stone wall which bounded the outlying fields of the Applegate
property. Behind this wall, if the four lads had known it, was concealed
a listener to whom all their conversation was perfectly plain. Jared had
watched the boys meeting from the dooryard and had crept cautiously along
behind the stone wall till he arrived at a spot opposite that at which
the group was chatting. "Listeners never hear good of themselves," says
the old saw. Jared assuredly proved its truth that fine spring morning.
An evil look passed over his countenance as he crouched behind the wall.
His sallow face grew a pasty yellow, with anger. His shifty eyes
glittered furiously as he heard his record discussed.
"So that's the game, is it?" he muttered to himself, as the boys parted
company, Fred Mainwaring shooting off like a red streak on his machine.
"Well, I guess that before long I'll have my innings, and when I do I'll
make it hot for all of you, especially old man Mainwaring. I'll get even
with him if it takes me a year; but I don't think it'll be that long."
He drew a letter from his pocket and glanced over it in the manner of one
already familiar with a missive's contents, but who wishes, by a fresh
perusal, to satisfy himself once more. This is what he read from the
much-creased document:
"If you have what you claim we will talk business with you. It will be
made worth your while."
The letter bore no signature nor address. It referred to a subject with
which the writer, for an excellent reason, would not have cared to have
his name linked. The "big ditch" project, the greatest of the age,
perhaps of all time, had, inconceivable as it may seem, bitter and
unscrupulous enemies. The person who had written that note to poor,
sneaking Jared Applegate was one of these.