The door of the lumber room was slammed shut on Andy and strongly
locked, and the lad resigned himself to the situation. The Talbots,
father and son, aided by brutal Dale Billings, had handled him pretty
roughly, and he was content to lie on the cot and prepare for what was
coming next.
"They've pretty nearly stripped me, and they've got all my money,"
reflected Andy. "I wish now I had dropped a postal card to Mr. Robert
Webb at Springfield. I'll do it, though, the first thing, when I get out
of this fix."
Andy was bound to get out of it in some way. It would be rashness
complete to try it right on the spur of the moment. However, he had till
night to think things over, and the youth felt pretty positive that long
before then he would hit upon some plan of escape.
In a little while Andy got up and took stock of his surroundings. The
partition that shut in the lumber room was made of common boards. With a
good-sized sledge, Andy could batter it to pieces, but he had no tools,
and glancing through a crack he saw Talbot and his son in the little
front office ready to pounce on him at a minute's notice.
There was a long narrow box lying up against the inside surface of the
partition boards. Andy had used this to hold his little kit of kitchen
utensils. He removed these now, and lifted the box on end under the only
outside aperture the lumber room presented. This was a little window,
way up near the ceiling. When Andy reached this small, square hole, cut
through a board, he discerned that he could never hope to creep through
it.
Glancing down into the rear yard he made out Dale Billings, seated on a
saw-horse, aimlessly whittling at a stick, and he decided that the ally
of the Talbots was on guard there to watch out for any attempted escape
in that direction.
However, when Andy had done a little more looking around in his
prison-room, he made quite an encouraging discovery. Where the box had
stood originally there was a broad, loose board. Dampness had weakened
one end, and a touch pulled it away from the nails that held it. With
one or two vigorous pulls, Andy saw he might rip the board out of place
its entire length. This, however, would make a great noise, would arouse
his captors, and he would have to run the gantlet the whole reach of the
garage space.
"It's my only show, though," decided Andy, "and I'll keep it in mind for
later on."
Towards noon Andy made a meal of some scraps of food he found in his
little larder. It was not a very satisfying meal, for his stock of
provisions had run low that morning and he had intended replenishing it
during the day.
About two o'clock in the afternoon Andy fancied he saw his chance for
making a break for liberty. Talbot was in the office. There was only one
automobile in the garage. This was a car that the proprietor's son had
just backed in. Andy could figure it out that Gus had just returned from
a trip. He leaped out of the machine, simply throwing out the power
clutch, with the engine still in motion, as if intending to at once
start off again.
Gus ran to the office, and through the crack in the partition Andy saw
him scan the open page of the daily order book. Our hero determined on a
bold move. He leaned down in the corner of the lumber room and seized
the end of the loose plank at the bottom of the partition with both
hands, and gave it a pull with all his strength.
R--r--rip--bang!
Andy went backwards with a slam. The board had broken off at the
nail-heads of the first rafter with a deafening crack. He dropped the
fragment and dove through the aperture disclosed to him. He could hear
startled conversation in the office, but it was no time to stop for
obstacles now. Andy came to his feet in the garage room, made a superb
spring, cleared the hood of the automobile, and, after a scramble,
landed in the driver's seat.
With a swoop of his right hand, Andy grasped the lever, his left
clutching the wheel. The car shot for the door in a flash. Gus Talbot
had run out of the office. He saw the machine coming, and who manned it.
Andy noticed him poising for a spring, snatched up the dust robe in the
seat by his side, gave it a whirl, and forged ahead.
The robe wound around the face and shoulders of Gus, sending him
staggering back, discomfited. Andy circled into the street away from
town, turned down the south turnpike, and breathed the air of freedom
with rapture.
"All I want is a safe start. I can't afford to leave the record behind
me that I stole a machine," he reflected. "It's bad enough as it is now,
with all the lies Talbot will tell. She's gone stale!"
The automobile wheezed down to an abrupt halt. It was just as it came to
a curve near the Jones farm, and almost at the identical spot where Andy
had been captured that morning. He cast a quick glance behind. No one
was as yet visible in pursuit, and there was no other machine in the
garage. One was handy not a square away from it, however. Andy had
noticed a physician's car there as he sped along. The Talbots would not
hesitate to impress it into service. At any rate, they would start some
pursuit at once.
Andy guessed that some of Gus Talbot's careless tactics had put the
magneto or carburetor out of commission. It would take fully five
minutes to adjust things in running order. No one was in view ahead.
There were all kinds of opportunities to hide before an enemy came upon
the scene.
Right at the side of the road was the hayfield of the Jones farm. Andy
leaped a ditch and started to get to the thin line of scrub oak beyond
which lay the creek. He passed three haystacks and they now pretty well
shut him out from the road. As he was passing the fourth one, he
stumbled, hopped about on one foot with a sharp cry of pain, and dropped
down in the stubble.
Andy had tripped over a scythe blade which the stubble had hidden from
his view. His ankle had struck the back of the blade, then his foot had
turned and met the edge of the scythe. A long, jagged gash, which began
to bleed profusely, was the result. Andy struggled to his feet and
leaned up against the side of the haystack in some dismay. He measured
the distance to the brush with his eye.
"I've got to make it if I want to be safe," the boy decided, wincing
with the pain of his injured foot, but resolute to grin and bear it till
he had the leisure to attend to it.
A shout halted Andy. It came from the direction of the barn, and he
fancied it was Farmer Jones giving orders to some of his men. Half
decided to make a run of it anyway, he made a sudden plunge into the
haystack and nestled there.
A clatter had come from the direction of the roadway he had just left.
Glancing in that direction, through a break in the trees, Andy had
caught a flashing view of Gus Talbot, bareheaded and excited, in a light
wagon, and lashing the horse attached to it furiously.
Andy drew farther back in among the hay, nesting himself out a
comfortable burrow. He ventured to part the hay as he heard a great
commotion in the direction of the road. He could trace the arrival of
Gus, his discovery of the stalled automobile, and the flocking of Farmer
Jones and his men to the spot.
Then in a little while the garage-keeper and Dale Billings arrived in
another machine. Some arrangement was made to take the various vehicles
back to the village. Then Seth Talbot, his son, and two of the farm
hands scattered over the field, making for the brush. They went in every
direction. A vigorous hunt was on, and Andy realized that it would be
wise for him to keep close to his present cover for some time to come.
His foot was bleeding badly, and he paid what attention to it he could.
He removed his stockings, bound up the wound with a handkerchief, and
drew both stockings over the injured member.
It was pretty irksome passing the time in his enforced prison, and
finally Andy went to sleep. It was late dusk when he woke up. He parted
the hay, and took as good a look around as he could. No one was in
sight, apparently, but he had no idea of venturing forth for some hours
to come.
"I'm going to leave Princeville," he ruminated, "but I can't go around
the world hatless, coatless and barefooted. I don't dare venture back to
the garage for any of my belongings. That place will probably be watched
all the time for my return. Talbot, too, has probably telephoned his
'stop thief' description of me everywhere. It's the river route or
nothing, if I expect to get safely away from this district. Before I go,
though, I'm going to see Mr. Dawson."
This was the gentleman to whom Andy had entrusted the two hundred
dollars. Andy had a very favorable opinion of him. The village banker
was a great friend of the boys of the town. He had started them in a
club, had donated a library, and Andy had attended two of his
moving-picture lectures. After the last one, Mr. Dawson had taken
occasion to pass a pleasant word with Andy, commending his attention to
the lecture. When Andy had taken the two hundred dollars to him that
morning, the banker had placed his hand on his shoulder, with the
remark: "You are a good, honest boy, Nelson, and I want to see you
later."
"I'll wait until about nine o'clock," planned Andy, "when most of the
town is asleep, and go to Mr. Dawson's house. There's a lecture at the
club to-night, I know, and he won't get home till after ten. I'll hide
in the garden and catch him before he goes into the house. I'll tell him
my story, and ask him to lend me enough to get some shoes and the other
things I need. I know he'll do it, for he's an honest, good-hearted
man."
This prospect made Andy light of heart as time wore on. It must have
been fully half-past eight when he began to stir about, preparatory to
leaving his hiding-place. He moved his injured foot carefully. It was
quite sore and stiff, but he planned how he would line the timber
townwards and stop at a spring and bathe and dress it again. He mapped
out a long and obscure circuit of the village to reach the home of the
banker unobserved.
Andy was just about to emerge from the haystack when the disjointed
murmur of conversation was borne to his ears. He drew back, but peered
through the hay as best he could. It was bright moonlight. Just dodging
from one haystack to another at a little distance, Andy made out Gus
Talbot and Dale Billings.
"Come on," he heard the latter say--"now's our chance."
"They must be still looking for me," he told himself.
There was no further view nor indication of the proximity of the twain
during the next hour, but caution caused Andy to defer his intended
visit to the banker.
"The coast seems all clear now," he told himself at last, and Andy crept
out of the haystack, but promptly crept back again.
Of a sudden a great echoing shout disturbed the silence of the night.
Some one in the vicinity of the farmhouse yelled out wildly:
"Fire!"