Fighting for fortune or, Making a place for himself
noticed a blazing red X on Tim’s forehead, he did not even remark it,
and Tim was too dejected and overcome to notice that on his companion’s
brow.
They donned their coats, and made a hasty scurry around the cabin, but
no trace of the thief or booty was found.
Then they grew irritable, and fell to quarreling, and then again began
planning what they would do.
“I’m dying of hunger,” said Tim, “and I’m going to find some place to
get something to eat at.”
“Where?”
“Portsmouth must be near here.”
“Yes; only a few miles, I guess. I’m going back home.”
“And leave me?”
“We’ve got no money. We can’t even get a meal.”
“Yes, we can. The thief has taken all our money, but I’ve got my
jewelry. I can sell that.”
The boys finally left the hut. In an hour they came to a crossroads
tavern, beyond which lay the little hamlet of Portsmouth.
The tavern keeper was busy at his bar arranging some bottles, when Tim
entered the place, followed by Rodney.
“Say, mister,” he said, “can we get a meal here?”
“I reckon so.”
“We’ve got no money.”
“No trust to strangers.”
“But I’ve got a watch and chain here,” pursued Tim. “We were robbed
last night of all our money. We want to stay here a day or two, and if
you’ll give us a meal and something to drink first, I’ll send my friend
to the town yonder to sell the watch and pay you.”
The landlord hesitated, but finally said:
“I guess it’s all right. No games, now.”
“Oh, no; you can keep the watch for security and send to town yourself,
if you like.”
“No, I’ll trust you, only one of you stay here while the other goes for
the money.”
“That’s all right.”
“Sit down at one of the tables. I’ll order your breakfast for you.”
The boys did so, removing their hats.
As the tavern keeper came back with some dishes, he stared strangely at
them.
“Hello!” he ejaculated. “So you’ve seen Crazy Meg, eh?”
CHAPTER XXVII.
A FRUITLESS SEARCH.
The landlord stared first at Tim’s head and then at that of Rodney
Darringford, and both boys at once discovered that he was very much
startled.
“What’s that?” demanded Tim sharply.
“Crazy Meg, I say. You must have seen her!”
“Who’s Crazy Meg?”
“Don’t know her?”
“I do not.”
“Never heard of her?”
“Never.”
“You must be strangers hereabouts, then?”
“We are.”
The landlord smiled.
“Well,” he said confidently, “you may not have seen her, but she has
seen you. Robbed, too, eh? Up to her old tricks again. Well, well!”
Tim Downey started violently. He was shrewd enough to trace a clue of
importance as to the thief of the bank notes in the tavern keeper’s
words, and he replied eagerly:
“Yes, we were robbed, and you seem to know something about it.”
“I can surmise,” laughed the landlord; “anyone hereabouts could from
your appearance.”
Rodney looked mystified.
“Our appearance?” he gasped.
“’Zactly.”
“How so?”
“You’ve got the mark.”
“What mark?”
“Crazy Meg’s mark.”
“What do you mean?”
“Go, both of you, and look in the mirror yonder and see.”
Both boys, impelled by a sense of mystery, hurried to a large
looking-glass near by.
In amazement they discerned the blood-red X that showed prominently on
their features.
They instinctively tried to rub it off.
“You’ll have to scrub to do that,” chuckled the tavern keeper.
Tim Downey was consumed with curiosity.
“See here, landlord!” he said half angrily, “what does this mean?”
“That Crazy Meg has seen you, I tell you.”
“But we didn’t see her.”
“Were you robbed?”
“We were.”
“When?”
“When--when we were asleep in a cabin near here last night.”
“That explains it, then.”
“How?”
“Well, she discovered you, robbed you and marked you, as she does
everybody she don’t like.”
Then the man proceeded to tell what he knew of Crazy Meg.
She had been known as a wild and harmless wanderer in the district for
years. Where she came from, no one knew, but it was believed that she
had escaped from some insane asylum.
The reason of this was that often she would frantically denounce the
bad men who had shut her up in a stone building with iron bars, whence
she had escaped.
When she owned the world, she said, she would hire an army to go and
tear down all the cruel insane asylums.
People would give her money out of charity, and this she hoarded and
secreted in some one of her many hiding places among the hills, until
she should get enough to hire her boasted army.
Often, too, she would drive away a whole flock of geese or chickens,
and even cattle, and they would be found where she had penned them in,
at some sequestered nook among the hills.
Whenever she met a person she did not like she would take out a bottle
containing some red liquid, and make just such a mark on their clothing
or house or hand or face as that on the faces of Tim and Rodney.
This had only been in the past year, and people said that she had in
her wanderings seen some terrible crime and been frightened by its
perpetrator.
The landlord told how one night recently Meg had secretly stolen into
the tavern, visited the room of his two boys and gathered up all their
school-books under her shawl to cart away, when the elder boy had
discovered her.
Her great mania seemed to be to accumulate a vast amount of
miscellaneous property, and hoard up what money she could steal or beg,
to finally employ to hire her army of men to burn up or tear down all
the insane asylums in the country.
“She just lives around the hut you say you slept in out of the storm
last night,” said the tavern keeper.
“Where can we find her?” asked Tim.
“Ha! ha! find Meg? That’s a hard task, boys. Whenever she steals
anything, she’s shrewd enough to keep out of the way for a time, and
sometimes disappears for whole weeks. When she is around, she’s like a
sprite, so quick and fleet-footed, and knowing a score of caves where
she can hide when pursued. I guess the breakfast is cooking,” and the
landlord went back to the kitchen of the tavern to attend to the meal
for his guests.
The eyes of the two boys met in mutual excited questioning.
“Rodney!” exclaimed Tim, “there’s some hope.”
“About the money?”
“Yes.”
“You mean?”
“Crazy Meg.”
“She certainly took it.”
“Of course.”
“And we must find her.”
“We must.”
They dispatched the meal. Then Tim went off to Portsmouth, leaving
Rodney at the tavern. He managed to sell what jewelry he had for forty
dollars, and they decided to make their headquarters at the tavern.
They now set their wits to work to find Crazy Meg, as the sole object
of their lives.
They even paid the tavern keeper’s boy ten dollars to assist them in
the quest.
It proved of no avail. Here and there they got a trace of the crazy
woman, but they could not locate her.
So the days drifted by, and then it occurred to Tim to call to his aid
his two trusty friends of the past--Daley and Spofford.
He wrote the letter that had been alluded to by Daley in his
conversation with Spofford, and which now had fallen into the hands of
Marcus Ellison.
“It’s no use,” said Rodney one evening, after a day of fruitless
tramping, “the woman has disappeared.”
“She’ll come back.”
“We’ll never get our money.”
“I don’t give up so easily.”
“I’ve a good mind to go back home.”
“All right; then you give up all claim on the money if you do. Wait
until my friends, Daley and Spofford, arrive.”
“What will they do?”
“Soon find crazy Meg, you can depend on that.”
“Two gentlemen to see you, Downey,” said the tavern keeper, as the boys
entered the place an hour later.
The landlord indicated a table where two men sat.
“Daley and Spofford,” murmured Tim joyfully.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
RELEASED ON BAIL.
Encouraged by the kind words of Mr. Montague, Evaline Oglesby began at
once to tell the story Jack Carboy had told her, piecing together the
parts the old sailor had described in his broken, graphic manner.
“Stop, Miss Eva,” broke in the lawyer, as he listened with rapt
interest to her straightforward recital. “You say Jack detected the
fumes of some drug?”
“Didn’t you say so, Jack?” asked Eva.
“Rock o’ Gibraltar! it struck my bowsprit and knocked me over seas!”
“There were indications that some one had set the fire?”
“Beyond doubt, Mr. Montague. And the fumes that so nearly overpowered
Jack came from chloroform, which had been used to overcome Dean.”
“So you think he was carried off?”
“I do, Mr. Montague.”
“Who could have done it?”
“I cannot tell, sir.”
“How can we find out?”
“I would suggest that you go and see Dean and hear his story, Mr.
Montague.”
“But last night’s work looks bad.”
“Does it look reasonable that he would come back here to rob his old
friend? Does it look reasonable that Dean Mercer has turned to a common
burglar?”
“I cannot tell. I never thought he would burn the steamer of his best
friend.”
“Has it been proved that he did?”
“Miss Eva, you should have been a lawyer. I see your idea. You would
have me see Dean Mercer and get his account of the affair?”
“Yes.”
“What then?”
“Will he be tried to-day?”
“He will doubtless be given a preliminary hearing and if found guilty
bound over to appear at the higher court.”
“And put back in jail?”
“If he does not get bail.”
“If he should get bail?”
“He would be allowed his freedom until the time the court sits.”
“Will you go and see him?”
“Certainly. The State will allow him a lawyer. I will take care of his
case.”
“Please accept my thanks, Mr. Montague. I shall want to see you as soon
as you return.”
“You can see me here if you wish. I will not be gone over half an hour.”
With these words Mr. Montague put on his hat and left the office to go
upon his errand.
He may not have been gone more than the specified thirty minutes, but
they seemed long ones to the impatient waiters, but Eva saw by the look
of satisfaction upon the old lawyer’s countenance that he had good news
to impart before he had spoken a word.
“Well, Mr. Montague?” she asked.
“I am glad I went,” he replied. “The boy was glad to see me and I am to
defend him.”
“What about his account of the burning of the _Spray_?” she asked
eagerly.
“It is not as clear as I could wish it to be. He does not seem to have
any idea of what happened to him until he found himself miles away from
Springfield.”
“Which shows that my theory was correct. He was drugged and kidnapped.
Didn’t it prove so?”
“Ye--es. He has been through some thrilling experiences, but got into
an uncomfortable association with a couple of bad men according to his
story. He appears innocent.”
“He is. And I am going to make father furnish his bail.”
“If you will I will do all in my power to save him.”
“I thank you, Mr. Montague. I hope you did not tell him that I sent you
to see him.”
“Not exactly that, Miss Eva. But I did tell him you thought he was
innocent, and that seemed to give him new courage. The boy has been
through a trying ordeal.”
“When will the hearing come off?”
“At ten o’clock.”
“Then I have no time to lose. I will see you as soon as I have won
father over to our side.”
“I wish you success.”
As the old lawyer watched his departing visitors, he murmured to
himself:
“She is a brave girl, but she has undertaken more now than she can
accomplish. Get Judge Oglesby to sign Dean Mercer’s bond! The idea is
absurd, though I am beginning to think the boy is not guilty of any
wrongdoing.”
“We shall succeed in getting father interested; we must!” declared Eva,
as she hastened homeward after leaving Mr. Montague. But she preferred
to see her father alone, so Jack and Manly remained in the background
while she sought the judge in his library.
It was nearly an hour before Eva reappeared to join her anxious