LIKE THIEVES IN THE NIGHT.
"Heard anything of Fanning Harding?" asked Jimsy, one bright morning, as
he stopped his car at the Prescotts' gate and he and Jess got out.
"Not a thing since that day at Acatonick," responded Roy, who with his
sister had hastened to meet the other two. "Why, Jess, how charming you
look this morning."
"Meaning that you notice the contrast with other mornings," laughed Jess
merrily; "oh, Roy, you are not a courtier."
"No, I guess not yet--whatever a courtier may be," was the laughing
rejoinder; "but I always like to pay deserved compliments."
"Oh, that's better," cried Jess; "but have you heard anything more from
Mr. Bell?"
For, of course, Jimsy and Jess by this time knew about the visit of the
mining man. Mr. Bancroft had looked up his standing and character and had
found both of the highest. On his advice Roy had about decided to accept
the unique offer made him by the Western millionaire.
Peggy shook her head in response to Jess's question.
"No, dear, not one word," she said; "isn't it queer? However, I guess we
shall, before long. Oh, I do hope that that poor old hermit turns out to
be Mr. Jim Bell's brother."
"So do I, too," agreed Jimsy. "It would be jolly for you and Roy to think
that you and your aeroplane had been the means of righting such a
succession of mishaps."
"Indeed it would," agreed Peggy, warmly; "but now come into the house and
have some ice cream. It's one sign of our new prosperity that we are
never without it now."
"I've eaten so much of it I'm ashamed to look a freezer in the face,"
laughed Roy, as they trooped in, to be warmly welcomed by Miss Prescott.
In the midst of their merry feast the sound of wheels was heard and a rig
from the station drove up. Out of it stepped a venerable old gentleman in
a well-fitting dark suit, with well blackened shoes and an altogether
neat and prosperous appearance.
Peggy and Jess who had run to the window at the sound of wheels saw him
assisted to the ground by a younger man whom they both recognized with a
cry of astonishment.
"Mr. Jim Bell. But who is the old gentleman?"
"Why it's--it's the hermit!" cried Roy.
"Good gracious, is that fashionable looking old man a hermit?" gasped
Jimsy.
"He was, I guess, but he won't be any more," laughed Peggy, happily, as
she tripped to the door to welcome the visitors. The Prescotts had a maid
now; but Peggy preferred to be the first to greet the newly united
brothers for it was evident that Jim Bell's quest had been successful.
What greetings there were to be sure, when the two brothers were inside
the cool, shady house! The old hermit's eyes gleamed delightedly as he
gallantly handed Miss Prescott to a chair. As for Jim Bell, he was happy
enough to "dance a jig," he said.
"I'll play for you, sir," volunteered Jimsy, going toward the piano.
"No, no," laughed Jim Bell; "I'm too old for that now. But not too old
for Peter and I to have many happy days together yet, eh, Peter?"
He turned tenderly toward the old man whose eyes grew dim and moist.
"I wish dad and mother could see us now," he said, sadly, as his thoughts
wandered back over the long bitter years he had spent in solitude.
"Perhaps they can," breathed Peggy, softly; "let us hope so."
"Thank you," said the old hermit, with a sigh.
But the conversation soon turned to a merrier vein. And then it drifted
into business. Mr. Bancroft happened to stop in on his way into town and
after a long talk with Jim Bell he seriously advised Roy to accept the
mining man's proposal.
"I'll put you up a factory any place you say," said the millionaire, "and
you can turn out all that we require. I've a notion, too, that they might
be used as general freight carriers over arid stretches of country where
there are no railroads, and feed and water for stock is scarce."
"Not a doubt of it," said Mr. Bancroft.
Before he left the preliminary papers had been drawn up and signed, and
Roy Prescott found himself fairly launched in business. But in all this
success he did not forget how much he owed to Peggy. Recent events had
softened the boy's character and reduced his conceit wonderfully.
"I owe it all to you, little sis," he said that evening.
"I don't know about all," cried Jimsy, who was present; "but you do owe a
whole lot to her, old man, and I'm glad to see you acknowledge it at
last."
"I always have," cried Roy, turning rather red, though.
"Hum," commented Jimsy; "I'm not so sure about that."
But Peggy put her hand over his mouth and it took Jimsy what seemed an
unduly long time to remove it. As for Jess, she stalwartly declared that
if it hadn't been for Peggy there would have been no Golden Butterfly, no
five thousand dollar prize, and, as she said, "no nothing." But to this
loyal little Peggy would not assent. In her eyes Roy would always remain
the most wonderful brother in the world.
Soon after this Jimsy and Jess took their leave and it was not long
before the last light was extinguished in the happy little household and
deep silence reigned. About midnight, as nearly as she could judge, Peggy
awoke to find the moonlight streaming into her room and upon her face.
"Good gracious, I'll get moonstruck," she thought, and throwing on a wrap
she went to the window to pull down the shade which had been raised to
admit the cool air.
The window commanded a view of the workshop, in which the Golden
Butterfly was kept, and Peggy, as she looked out, was astonished to see
that the door of the work shop which housed the precious craft was open.
"Goodness!" thought the girl, "how careless of whoever left it that way.
The night air will rust the stay-wires and the steel parts of the motor
terribly. I guess I had better slip downstairs and close it."
Partially dressing herself the girl noiselessly tiptoed down the stairs
and out into the moonlit night.
For one instant she was startled as she thought she saw a dark form dodge
swiftly behind a corner of the workshop as she appeared.
"I must be getting as nervous as poor Roy when the mule frightened him
down the well," she thought to herself as she advanced toward the shed.
Reaching it she raised her hand to shut the door when, to her
astonishment, she discovered that it had apparently been locked,--at
least a broken bit of the padlock dangling from the portal seemed to
indicate this.
"Somebody's filed that through," was Peggy's thought. But before she
could make any further investigation a pair of hands grasped her from
behind, pinioning her arms to her side. At the same instant an old coat
was flung over her head and pulled close, stifling her outcries.
"We won't hurt you if you keep quiet," hissed a voice in her ear, "but if
you don't, look out for trouble."
"What are you going to do?" cried Peggy, through the muffling medium of
the coat.
"You'll soon find out," was the rejoinder. "Jukes, bring her inside the
shed and keep her quiet."
Jukes! The name struck a familiar chord in Peggy's memory. She knew now
why the face and form of the man hanging about Fanning's "Phantom" hangar
at the aviation field had seemed so familiar to her. It _was_ Jukes Dade,
the man her father had peremptorily discharged. Peggy could not repress a
shudder as she thought of the desperate character of the man.
Suddenly, as her captors half dragged, half carried her into the
workshop, her body grew limp, and she fell in an insensible heap forward.
She would have struck the ground had not a pair of hands caught her.
"She's fainted," cried Jukes, alarmedly.
"So much the better," growled out his companion; "she won't give us any
trouble now. We can do what we've got to do and get away. Got the files?"
"Here they are," responded Jukes; "just let me lay her down here while I
hand 'em to you."
He deposited Peggy's limp form on a long box on which some sacks had been
strewn. The next instant the sharp rasping of a file could be heard in
the silent workshop.
"I guess this Golden Butterfly will have its wings clipped for some time
to come," chuckled Jukes' companion, whom Peggy, of course, had not yet
seen.
"I guess that's right," laughed the other; "just wait a jiffy while I lay
down this gun of mine and I'll give you a hand."
He stepped over and put down a wicked-looking pistol on the rough bench
on which Peggy lay. Then he turned and began to help his companion. The
two worked by the light of a dark lantern which they had brought with
them on their rascally expedition to ruin the Golden Butterfly.
But suddenly a slight noise behind him made Jukes turn his head. As he
did so he gave a startled yell. Peggy, her eyes bright and wild-looking,
was standing up behind them. In her hand was the pistol which Jukes had
laid down beside her when she had seemed to faint a few moments before.
But Peggy's faint had been a simulated one. Realizing that harm was meant
to the Golden Butterfly, she had imitated unconsciousness as a means to
possible escape and giving the alarm.
"Don't move, either of you," said Peggy, in a firm voice. "I'm only a
girl, but I can use a pistol."
But Jukes and his companion, with a wild yell, made a dash for the door.
"Good gracious, I can't shoot them," thought Peggy.
"Help! help!" she began to cry at the top of her voice.
But the next instant the whirr and roar of a motor from the road apprised
her that the two rascals had made their escape in an auto and that
pursuit was useless. Thus it was that when the aroused household came
pouring excitedly out of the house they found a brave, if a rather
tremulous, girl awaiting them with a pistol in her hand on the stock of
which were engraved the initials "F. H."
"So that's who Jukes's companion was," exclaimed Roy, angrily. "Oh, if
you had only awakened me, sis."
"My dear Roy," rejoined Peggy, with dignity, "don't you think that I am
capable of taking care of myself?"