LAST DAYS AT BOXWOOD
Mr. Slade glanced across the room at his friend Mr. Baker. The latter
returned the look, and, had one observed carefully, he might have seen
the shadow of a wink pass between the two men. Then Mr. Slade slowly,
but with an evident air of firmness, shook his head.
“What is it?” asked his son.
“I’m sorry, Ned; but we can’t consider your proposition--not for an
instant.”
“You mean you won’t let us go out to the ranch to try our luck at
discovering the cattle rustlers?”
“That’s it, Son. This is a business proposition--not a vacation lark,
as you seem to think.”
“I didn’t say that, Dad. I mean business--we all mean business. Don’t
we?” and Ned appealed to his chums.
“Of course we do!” chimed in stout Bob. “Why can’t we go out there and
trace the cattle thieves as well as a New York detective who wouldn’t
know a prairie dog’s burrow from a dried water hole? Come on, Dad, say
something!” and he appealed to his father who, so far, had done little
talking. “Let us go out West. We can get to the bottom of the mystery
as well as any one. That is, if there is a mystery.”
“Oh, there’s a mystery surely enough,” said Mr. Slade. “There’s no
question of that. The rustlers haven’t left the semblance of a trail to
follow, if we can believe Watson--and I have every confidence in him.
But I wouldn’t, for a moment, think of letting you boys try your hand
at this. Why, there’s danger in it! Those rustlers are unscrupulous
scoundrels--they shoot first and ask questions afterward. You can’t
take any chances with men like that!”
Jerry and Bob saw their chum Ned give himself a little shake. They had
observed the same action on other occasions--notably when Ned was at
bat in a tight place in a ball game, or when he knew he was going to
be called on to take the pigskin in a rush through tackle and guard to
make a much-needed touchdown. The same look Ned’s face wore at such
times was on it now. He was girding himself for some fray--albeit a
mental one.
“Just one moment, Dad,” he said in a quiet voice. “I agree with all you
say about this being a man’s job, dangerous and calling for ingenuity.
And I’m not going to urge this on you just for the sake of letting us
have a little fun. We’ll get some fun out of it--I don’t mean that we
won’t--but it isn’t going to be _all_ fun. I’m in earnest when I ask
you to let us have a try at this.
“Now give me a few seconds more,” he quickly said, as he observed that
his father was about to speak. “As I said, I know it’s a man’s job. But
I ask you if we three aren’t equal to one man?”
He indicated by a sweeping gesture himself and his two chums.
“Well, yes, in general appearance, huskiness and ability to take care
of yourselves under ordinary circumstances, I’d say you were any one
man’s equal, if not more,” conceded Mr. Slade.
“Two and a half, easily,” came from Mr. Baker, who seemed to be
enjoying the situation.
“All right, you admit that then,” and Ned seemed to be getting ready
for an argument, as he often did in some of the college debates. “Now
for point number one. Do you remember, Dad, and you, too, Mr. Baker,
how we made out that time we took the trip on the Atlantic in our motor
boat? You didn’t think, then, that we’d get what we went after; but we
did.”
“Yes, you did,” admitted Mr. Baker, slowly.
“And after that,” went on Ned, like an attorney following up an
argument in court, “we made an airship. You said, Dad, you didn’t
believe it would go up; but it did.”
“Yes, and we got the fortune in it, too!” added Bob, who had remained
silent as long as was possible for him.
“That’s right!” exclaimed Mr. Baker. “The boys certainly turned the
trick that time.”
“And then,” went on Ned, relentlessly, “do you recall how we patrolled
the border for Uncle Sam, and caught the Canadian smugglers, when
nobody else could get a line on them?”
Mr. Slade scratched his head reflectively.
“Well, I do give you credit for that,” he said. “I never thought you’d
do it. But----”
“Well, if we caught those smugglers in the air where there wasn’t much
of a trail to follow, why can’t we get after the cattle rustlers?”
demanded Ned. “This ought to be a whole lot easier.”
“He’s got you there!” laughed Mr. Baker.
The tide seemed to be turning in favor of the boys.
“Just what is it you propose to do?” asked Mr. Slade at length. This
much was a concession.
“Go out there, size up the situation, find out what the facts are and
then--_act_,” was Ned’s prompt answer.
“Hum!” said Mr. Slade, musingly. “I admit, Ned, to be perfectly fair,
that you boys have certainly done well in the past. But this is a new
proposition. You’ve got to deal with cunning and unscrupulous men.”
“It won’t be the first time,” observed Ned. “Look at the trouble we had
with our Western mine. It isn’t as though we didn’t know something of
men and their ways, Dad, and of the West.”
“No, that’s so. You have been out there. Oh! I don’t know. What do you
say, Baker?” and Mr. Slade turned suddenly to his friend.
“I leave it all to you, Slade. You’re more interested than I am. As
far as Bob is concerned, if you want to let the lads try their hand, I
won’t stand in his way. The more experience he gets the better off in
after life--if he takes care of himself.”
“Trying to put the whole burden on me,” said Mr. Slade with a laugh. “I
don’t know whether I told you or not,” he went on to his son, “but Mr.
Baker has some money invested in this ranch. So he is losing, as well
as I, when the cattle rustlers are active.”
“Then let us go out there and stop ’em!” cried Ned. “I’m sure we can do
it. You’d go, wouldn’t you, Jerry?”
“Well, I’d like to make the attempt,” said the tall lad quietly,
“though I don’t know that we can guarantee results.”
“But we’ll make a big effort!” exclaimed Ned. “Come on, Dad, be nice
and say we may go.”
Once more Mr. Slade seemed to be thinking seriously. Then he slowly
said:
“All right. As long as friend Baker is willing I’ll give in, though
I have a sort of feeling it won’t amount to anything--your going out
there.”
“Just you wait and see!” laughed Ned. “We’ll show results before you
know it. Say, fellows, this is great! And I have another idea.”
“He’s full of ’em to-day,” commented Jerry, smiling.
“We’ll make the trip in our big car,” went on Ned, not noticing the
interruption. “We’ve gone on long tours in it before, and it’s a lot
more fun than riding in stuffy trains. We’ll take the auto, and send
our airship on ahead of us, to be ready when we get there.”
“Better reverse the process,” suggested Mr. Slade. “If this business
is going to be done by you boys, the sooner the better. The longer you
wait the more of my cattle will be stolen. Better go on out in your
airship, and use your auto when you arrive at Square Z ranch. I don’t
believe I can afford the time to have you make the trip in your big
car. It would take three weeks at least.”
“All right, we’ll take the airship,” conceded Ned. He and his chums
would have agreed to walk to the ranch for the exciting pleasure they
expected to have after they arrived. “We’re in just as much of a hurry
as you, Dad, to get at the bottom of this mystery.”
“Well, then,” went on Mr. Slade, “I’ll wire Watson you’re coming, and
give you a letter of introduction to him. And now one last thing. This
is strictly business! I’m letting you go a little against my better
judgment, but maybe you’ll produce results. But, remember, business
before pleasure, though if you can get any fun out of the trip, why,
have it. Only take care of yourselves. Now you had better get your
affairs in shape. You’ll soon be through at Boxwood, you say?”
“Yes, we could start West to-morrow if we had to, Dad,” replied Ned.
“Oh, I don’t know that there’s any such rush as that. But the sooner
the better. Now we’ll try to be as comfortable here as we can. Run over
this evening if you get time. Ouch! but my leg hurts!”
“How did the accident happen?” asked Jerry, as he and his chums
prepared to leave for Boxwood Hall.
“Oh, I was driving the car, and I made too sharp a turn in my hurry, I
suppose. The first I knew the machine had left the road and was rolling
down the hill. We were tossed out and did some separate rolling on our
own account, which, probably, saved our lives.”
The chums left, promising to return in the evening, and as the door
closed on them Mr. Slade rang for the bell-boy and requested a
telegraph blank.
“Going to wire Watson?” asked Mr. Baker.
“No, I’m going to wire Peck.”
“You mean the New York detective?”
“Yes. I think I’ll engage him.”
“But I thought you said you were going to let the boys try to solve the
mystery. I was going to ask you, now that they are gone, if you think
it wise. But----”
“Oh, well, I’m going to let them _try_,” said Mr. Slade with a smile.
“At the same time I think it’s a good thing to have two strings to your
bow. I’ll send the detective on after the boys to sort of watch over
them, and he’ll be there on the ground in case they fail. But don’t
tell the boys.”
“I won’t,” promised Mr. Baker with a smile, as the bell-boy took the
dispatch Mr. Slade had written.
* * * * *
Out on the Boxwood campus bright fires gleamed. Around them circled
chanting students casting into the flames various articles, from books,
the study of which had ceased, to broken baseball bats, torn gloves and
other tokens. The silence of the darkness was broken by more or less
weird chants.
It was the closing of the term at Boxwood Hall and the time-honored
observance of it was in full swing. It was several days after the
accident to Mr. Slade and Mr. Baker. The latter was able to be out, and
Mr. Slade had the promise that by the middle of the following week he
could walk around on crutches.
Meanwhile, messages had gone to and come from Square Z ranch. The boys
had started their preparations and then had entered with zest into the
fun of the last days at Boxwood.
“Where are you fellows going to spend your vacation?” asked Tom Bacon
of the three inseparables. “I’m getting up a yachting party, and I’d
like first rate to have you join.”
“Sorry; but we’re going on a Western trip in our big aeroplane,” said
Jerry.
“Hum! That sounds good. Well, some other time then. Look! There goes
Prexy for the final,” and he pointed to the figure of Dr. Anderson
Cole, head of Boxwood, who, as was the custom, came out to the senior
fire to deliver the ancient Greek ode composed in honor of the
departing class.
“Mustn’t miss that!” cried Ned, as he, Bob and Jerry started to run
toward the biggest blaze. All the other lads paid final tribute to the
graduates in this form.
Jerry felt someone tugging at his coat, and, glancing behind him,
beheld Professor Snodgrass.
“Oh!” cried Jerry. “I beg your pardon,” though he did not know just why
he should say that. “You’re out late, aren’t you?”
“No, Jerry. You see the bright fires attract so many moths and other
insects, that I am making a fine collection. I have all my boxes full,
and would you mind letting me take your cap to keep this big fellow
in,” and he showed his half-closed hand in which something fluttered.
“Sure! take it and welcome,” said Jerry, snatching the cap off. “And
say, Professor,” he called back, as he sped away, “we’re going on
another Western trip. Maybe you’d like to go along.” But he did not
stay to hear the answer.
There was more news awaiting the boys when they went to the hotel that
night after the closing scenes at Boxwood Hall.
“I guess, after all, you needn’t be in such a rush to get out to Square
Z ranch,” said Mr. Slade, as he read over again a telegram that had
recently been received.
“Why not?” asked Ned. “Don’t tell me all your cattle have been run off
by the rustlers and there aren’t any left!”
“No, it isn’t as bad as that,” replied his father. “But the gang made
a raid on a place not far from mine, and they were caught--at least
some were. So Watson thinks there won’t be much more stealing done at
our ranch, at least for a time. The rustlers will keep under cover, I
fancy. So if you boys still want to go----”
“Want to go!” cried Ned. “Of _course_ we want to go. We’ve made all our
plans.”
“Well, you needn’t be in such a hurry,” went on his father. “You don’t
need to take your airship. That is, I mean you won’t have to travel
in it. Use the big car as you originally intended, and forward the
aeroplane if you like.”
“That will be fine!” cried Jerry. “Not that going in the airship
wouldn’t be sport, but we can enjoy it more if we don’t have to hurry.
Then we’ll just reverse our plans, and make an auto tour of it. I
believe we can do it inside of three weeks, though it may take a little
longer.”