Barry Locke, half-back
Barry felt like a conspirator when he and Peaches started for the
village about eight o’clock. Peaches insisted that they take it
slowly and appear to be out for a stroll, and he made Barry pause at
almost every window they passed and stare for long moments at the
uninteresting displays therein. The Wessex police force was popularly
supposed to consist of one member, but as a matter of fact it contained
three, and one of the three was on duty at State and Elm Streets,
directing traffic.
To be sure, the traffic was not excessive and the officer stood not in
the middle of the junction of the two thoroughfares but on the curb,
where he was usually companioned by several of the town’s citizens who
appeared to have no home ties. Barry thought the policeman viewed him
and Peaches with marked interest as they loitered past on the opposite
sidewalk, but Peaches said it was only the imagination of a guilty
conscience that gave him the impression. Two blocks farther on, where
the town’s residences gave place to empty lots, a small car stood
directly under an electric light.
“The gold-plated, ivory-mounted dumb-bell!” muttered the leader of the
expedition, disgustedly. “It’s a wonder he doesn’t set off rockets, for
fear some one mightn’t see him!”
Peaches gave directions to the dozing driver and the car lurched out
of a ditch and set off northward. After a few minutes the road picked
up the railway tracks and for the rest of the nine-mile journey kept
them company. They rattled sedately into Hale’s Bridge ahead of time
and came to a stop in the shadow of the freight-house a few rods short
of the station. The town was a small place, with scarcely more than a
dozen buildings in sight. A few street lights punctured the darkness at
long intervals and these were presently dimmed by the white radiance
of an engine’s headlight as the south-bound express rolled noisily out
of the night. The driver of the Ford started his motor, and presently
from the direction of the station a figure approached.
“All right, Davy,” called Peaches, softly. The traveler deposited his
bag in the back of the car and took the place vacated by Barry, who had
moved to a seat beside the driver. The lights switched on and the Ford
made a perilous turn and headed homeward. A tap on the shoulder caused
Barry to turn his head.
“I want you to meet Davy Lyle,” Peaches was saying. Barry managed to
reach the hand extended to him and felt a hard, firm grasp on it.
He couldn’t see much of Davy,――just a blurred countenance in the
dimness,――but the slightly high-pitched voice that acknowledged the
introduction was pleasant.
The couple in the back talked all the way, but what they said wasn’t
audible to Barry, above the noise of the car. Just short of Wessex a
stop was made and Barry crowded into the back seat, Davy disappearing
from sight to sit on the floor and hug his knees for the journey
through the center of the village. A few minutes later the car stopped
once more, this time opposite the lane that led to Brazer’s Farm,
Peaches transferred some money to the driver, and, while the conveyance
went on along the road, the passengers made their way back to the Lyle
house. Peaches and Barry entered by the front gate, but Davy jumped
over the fence and disappeared through the shadows toward the back of
the house.
“So far, so good,” murmured Peaches, sitting down on the top step. “How
do you like the criminal life, Barry?”
“How do you mean criminal? We haven’t done anything criminal!”
“No, we haven’t, I guess, but blowed if I don’t feel as if we had! I’d
sort of like to see into Mr. Benjy’s room right now. I’ll bet the old
gentleman’s happy; what?”
The Ford rattled wildly past on its way back to town. Peaches followed
it with his gaze until its twinkling tail-light had disappeared. Then:
“I swore that guy to secrecy, and I guess he’s all right,” he said
thoughtfully, “but if he forgets and goes to talking―― Hang it, I
don’t believe I’d be much of a success as a criminal, after all! I’ve
certainly gone and left a swell clue behind me!”
“Think that fellow recognized Davy?” asked Barry.
“No, and I don’t suppose he ever saw him before, anyway. Davy probably
didn’t ride in taxicabs much when he was here. Still, it was a fool
thing to do, and I recognize that fact now that it’s too late.
But――hang it!――I had to get a car somewhere. He couldn’t have found one
in Hale’s Bridge; that’s a cinch!”
“Oh, well, he will be gone by to-morrow night,” replied the other,
reassuringly. “No use worrying, I guess.”
Footsteps sounded behind them and Betty came out and seated herself
beside Barry. Both boys looked at her inquiringly. After a moment Betty
said in a queerly hushed voice:
“He’s awfully different, Peaches, isn’t he?”
“Davy? Yes, he sure is, but I like it, Betty. He’s older and has a lot
more pep. As I said to Barry, I guess having to make your own way does
that to a chap. How did Mr. Benjy――er――”
“He’s as happy as anything,” said Betty. “He’s holding Davy’s hand and
smiling at him. He hasn’t said much. I suppose he’s too glad. Oh, I do
wish there wasn’t this――this thing to spoil it!” Betty dabbed at her
eyes with a tiny wad of handkerchief and Peaches patted her shoulder.
“Don’t you worry,” he said. “Everything will come out all right after
a while. Davy’s got a corking good job at last, he tells me, and will
be making real money. These folks here are bound to forget their
grouch pretty soon, and then Davy can come home for week-ends and――and
everything will be pie!”
“That would be nice,” murmured Betty. Then, more briskly: “Speaking of
money, Peaches, I want you to keep account of every cent you’ve spent
and――”
“Got it all down, to a penny,” replied Peaches, cheerfully. “Don’t
worry about that, Betty. What you’d better do is go over my expense
account pretty carefully when I present it. Jumpin’ Jupiter! That
reminds me that I’ve got a letter to write. Guess I’d better tear
myself away and attend to it. You know where to find me if anything’s
needed, Betty.”
They all went in, Barry rubbing chilled hands together as he bade Betty
good night and followed Peaches upstairs. Peaches had paused outside
Toby Nott’s door and was counting a small roll of bills.
“Eight, nine―― Got enough to pay my debts, I guess.” He knocked and a
voice responded, “Yeah! Who is it?”
“In bed, Toby? It’s Jones.”
“What you want?”
“Just want to pay you back that six dollars,” answered Peaches, winking
at Barry.
“Come in!” called Toby, animatedly.
Toby was in bed, sure enough, but he appeared to have no present
interest in sleep. He had both his pillows behind him and an electric
drop over his tousled head. There was a large, serious-looking volume
on his knees and on a chair beside him sat Antonio, tethered by one
hind leg and staring raptly at the electric bulb. Antonio looked
indecently large and gross, as though the sybaritic life he had been
leading had somehow coarsened his nature. He paid no attention to the
visitors, but continued his basilisk contemplation of the light.
“A touching picture of domestic felicity,” observed Peaches. “Might be
entitled ‘Pals’ or――or――”
“‘Toby and Tony,’” offered Barry.
“Or ‘Two souls with but a Single Croak’ or something. What’s he doing,
Toby? Trying to hypnotize you?”
“He isn’t looking at me,” answered Toby, with dignity. “He’s looking at
the light. One night there was a mosquito up there.”
“And he hasn’t forgotten? Marvelous example of brute intelligence!
He’s a patient animal, isn’t he? Does he――er――stay there all night and
guard your couch? Now, what was it Professor N. B. Brown said about――”
“Give me my six dollars and get out of here!” growled Toby,
threateningly raising the ponderous book on his knees. “Say, what did
you want that for, anyway? And, say, where were you last night? Why――”
“Here’s your money, old son, and many thanks. Better put it where it’ll
be safe, for I may want to borrow it again some day. You’ll observe
that it’s all in greenbacks, Toby. Thoughtful of me; what?”
“How do you mean greenbacks?” asked Toby, suspiciously.
“Why, greenbacks――frogs―― Oh, what’s the use? Come on, Barry!”
“His back’s not green!” Toby’s triumphant voice pursued them past the
closed portal. “It’s brown!”
There was fine news of Mr. Benjy, the next morning. Whether or not
because of Davy’s coming, he had slept almost all night and was asking
for breakfast, Betty informed the boys. And he seemed quite like
himself and declared that he would be going back to the office the
following day.
Barry’s hope of getting into the Springfield game was diminished
that Friday afternoon. It was the custom to excuse those who were to
be called on in the Saturday game from anything save the lightest
practice, and Barry was not one of the favored. While he did not take
part in the brief scrimmage between two patched-up teams that ended the
session, he worked out with Ike Boardman’s squad during signal-practice
and did a lot of punting. All of which signified that the Major was not
considering him as a serious contender against Springfield.
Clyde was almost like the old Clyde that afternoon, and seemed anxious
to have Barry forget what had occurred in Number 42 a few nights
before. He didn’t refer to that occasion, but he left Hal Stearns and
Goof Ellingham once, to squeeze in beside Barry on the bench, and
evidently tried hard to be agreeable. Barry went back to the Lyles’
through the dusk of a cold November evening, feeling very happy over
Clyde’s affability and just a little disappointed because he was not to
have any generous part in the morrow’s game. Of course the Major might
use him before the fracas was done, but Barry, who had by now become an
enthusiastic player, wanted action and lots of it!
On their way to supper Peaches confided to Barry that Davy had become
obstreperous and was going to stay until Monday.
“I tried to tell him that it was mighty risky,” said Peaches, “but he
wouldn’t see it. He said that if any one had learned of his presence in
the old home town they’d have been after him before this. Well, maybe
that’s so, too. But, just the same, he’s taking a chance.”
“I’ll bet the police have forgotten all about him,” said Barry. “It’s
almost a year, isn’t it?”
“Don’t you believe it! The big squeeze, Martin――he’s the chief, or
whatever they call it here――was sort of peeved when Davy gave him the
slip, and I guess he’d be awfully glad to get him.”
“Well, if he doesn’t show himself,” said Barry, “no one’s going to
suspect he’s around. How is Mr. Benjy to-day?”
“Great! The doctor says he’s going to get well fast. I guess Davy was
good medicine for him.”
“I guess so. That was a bright idea of yours, Peaches――fetching him
back, I mean. You do have an occasional clever thought, don’t you?”
“Glad you realize it. I had another one, too, which was to get the
interest on the mortgage paid. Come to think of it, I don’t see what
the community would do without me!”
“Have you paid it, though?”
“Not yet, because I haven’t heard from home. But I’ll get the
wherewithal to-morrow. Would you mind getting a move on? I’m pretty
near starved!”
There was a large and enthusiastic mass meeting that evening. After it
was over the fellows formed outside and a wildly cheering procession
made the round of the buildings, and finally, after Doctor Clode had
responded to demands for a speech, ended up in front of the Banks
residence and cheered the Major until he appeared and acknowledged the
applause. Neither Barry nor Peaches attended the meeting, but sounds of
the ensuing demonstration took them over to the campus and they shouted
and sang as loudly as any. Returning home, shortly before ten, Peaches