Fighting for fortune or, Making a place for himself
direction taken by the crowd, but soon running at right angles.
“There is a boat at the lower landing,” panted Marcus, “and we can get
it by running fast.”
A launch, somewhat similar to the one they had come on from Millville,
was just about to clear the pier.
“We are barely in time,” said Marcus, as he and Dean motioned for the
boat to wait for them.
The confusion attending the scene in the other part of the town had
not reached here, and the captain simply thinking the boys had been
sprinting to catch his launch, willingly waited for them to come aboard.
“Another minute, boys, and you would have missed us,” he greeted,
cheerily. “Want to go to Springfield?”
“Yes, sir,” replied Marcus.
A few minutes later, when he felt that they were safe from pursuit by
their enemies, Marcus said aside to his friend:
“A close call.”
“It was,” replied Dean, “and I must confess I do not understand now
just what took place. The officers were about to arrest me, though
for what I do not know, when that alarm came and in the excitement I
managed to get away.”
“I created the outcry,” declared Marcus proudly. “I did it to give you
a chance to get away in the confusion. You see Colonel Darringford had
telephoned down here for the officers to be in readiness to arrest you
as an escaped inmate of the reform school.”
“I did not think of that. I see his scheme. Do you suppose they will
telephone ahead to Springfield?”
“No doubt; but forewarned is forearmed, you know. We’ll give them the
slip there.”
The confidence of his companion gave Dean courage, and they continued
their trip to the city with good courage.
“By the way,” said Marcus a little later, “I am awfully sorry for
getting mad with you last night when you would not escape from that old
lockup as I wanted you to do. I can see now that you were wiser than I.”
“It is all forgiven, Marcus, if there was really anything to forgive.
But have you any plan of action when we get to Springfield?”
“No, but I think I have something here that will help us to lay our
plans. I have found out who your worst enemy is.”
“Who?”
“Tim Downey. Here is proof of it in a letter that Daley dropped on his
way to Millville and I picked up. It is postmarked Portsmouth.”
“That’s south of here.”
“Yes; fifty miles down the river. He writes that he is in trouble. He
says that if Daley will come to Portsmouth, he will put him in the way
of making another thousand dollars.”
“Do you think he has spent all of that money?”
“I don’t know what to make of it. Read for yourself and tell me what
you think of it.”
The letter read:
“You see we were chumps in not going to the city. We had money enuff
to fly high. The cash is safe, but we haven’t got it, for cash and
papers were lost in a strange way. We know where it is, but you must
come and help us get it.”
“We?” said Dean, “then there are two of them?”
“Yes.”
“And they had the money?”
“At least a portion of it.”
“And the papers?”
“It looks so.”
“And they are at Portsmouth?”
“Near there, or there, yes,” replied Marcus.
“Will we go there?”
“Yes, sir.”
“When?”
“To-night. Hold on, Dean, read the rest of the letter.”
Dean did so.
It concluded:
“If you come, do it at once, or else we will go off on the search for
the money alone--me and my friend----”
“Why!” cried Dean, as he read the name that followed, “the boy with him
is Rodney Darringford!”
“Yes. They must make a pair of precious scamps. And we must be on hand
by the time Daley and Spofford arrive. Let us hope that we can round up
the entire gang at once.”
“If I can dodge the officers at Springfield.”
“We must manage that somehow. I have an idea that we had better leave
the launch at the small place a few miles this side of the city. From
thence we can in some way manage to get to Portsmouth. I want to see
mother, but I shall have to put it off. Poor mother! how much worry
I have given her, but I do not think it was my fault wholly. Somehow
things have gone hard with me, but I hope the end is near. Once I can
get those papers and free father, I can clear my own name.”
“Success to you, Marcus. We must stand together a little longer. What’s
that the captain is saying? We are getting close down to Turtle-back.”
“Where we must leave the boat. We have a long trip before us, but we
must show that we are equal to it.”
CHAPTER XXXI.
WHAT THE BOYS FOUND.
The journey to Portsmouth was unmarked by any incident of importance or
excitement. They had, after abandoning the boat, crossed the country on
foot, and reached the village from which the letter to Daley had been
directed.
They lost several hours in looking around the village for some traces
of Tim Downey and Rodney Darringford.
The discovery from Tim’s letter by Dean Mercer that the latter was
Tim’s companion, opened a perfect gateway of revelation to both the
boys.
Tim Downey might plot against Dean to secure money, but the knowledge
that a representative of rival business interests to the _Spray_ was
in the field, indicated to Dean that even Colonel Darringford himself
might be in the scheme that had resulted in the burning of the lake
steamer.
“We’ll soon know,” affirmed Marcus confidently. “Certain it is that
these boys took the money and the papers.”
“But they have lost them?”
“All the same they seem to know how to regain them. We must be prompt
and cautious, and we shall succeed in outwitting them.”
They finally began to make inquiries at Portsmouth about two strange
boys, and this resulted in the obtaining of a definite clue to the
whereabouts of Tim and Rodney, for the former had made himself
conspicuous at the village by getting intoxicated, and even had not
attempted to conceal his real name.
The man who directed Marcus and Dean to the crossroad tavern, was a
woodchopper at the edge of the town, and he smiled as he said:
“Downey, eh? He’s a wild one and in considerable demand just now.”
“How so?” asked Marcus curiously.
“Two men looking for him here to-day.”
“Who were they?”
“Strangers.”
“Can you describe them?”
“I’ll try to.”
The woodchopper did describe them.
“Daley and Spofford!” ejaculated Dean as they walked on.
“Yes, it’s them.”
“And here.”
“The four plotters in the case, yes.”
“We must be very cautious.”
“I should say so; particularly with those two men,” replied Marcus.
“You see they have come here to help Downey.”
“Do what?”
“Something about the stolen money and papers.”
“I wish I knew what.”
“We must find out.”
They did not venture near the crossroad tavern until toward dusk.
Near it Dean waited in a thicket, while Marcus reconnoitered. He
returned shortly, and with a serious face.
“Well, they’re there, Dean!” he responded.
“I supposed they were. Is Rodney Darringford there?”
“Yes; he and Tim, and Daley and Spofford. They are carousing, and seem
to be friends with everybody about the tavern. I couldn’t dare to
venture near enough to them to listen to them. Here, Dean, quick! Stand
a little more out in the road.”
“What’s up, now?”
“See that boy?”
“Coming whistling down the road?”
“Yes.”
“Who is he?”
“One of the tavern keeper’s boys. He must know something about Tim and
Rodney and their plans, for they’ve been at the tavern several days.”
“What of it?”
“Wait and see!”
The boy came down the road. He stopped whistling as he observed Marcus
and Dean, and stared curiously at them.
“I tell you, the name of those two boys is Danvers and Lance!” cried
Marcus in a loud tone of voice. “I’ll leave it to this boy. Say, bub!”
“Hello!”
“Do you know the tavern people?”
“Belong there.”
“There’s two boys staying there?”
“Yes.”
“Named Danvers and Lance?”
“No, they ain’t.”
“What then?”
“Tim Downey and Rodney.”
“Rodney what?”
“Dunno.”
“Sure that’s their names?”
“Yes.”
Marcus had purposely led on to this conversation, to get the tavern
keeper’s boy to talk.
“Who are they, anyway?” he asked.
“They come from Springfield, I reckon. They got robbed near here a few
nights ago, and they’re looking for the thief.”
“Why, how was that?” asked Marcus.
“Well, you see, we have a woman living round here, named Crazy Meg.”
“Yes.”
“She robbed them,” and then, to the satisfaction and delight of Marcus
and Dean, the boy volubly detailed the episode of the cabin as far as
he understood it, and even went on to relate how Tim Downey had sent
for two friends to help him find Crazy Meg.
Marcus Ellison acted all through the interview as if he was only
casually interested in the boy’s story.
“I reckon they won’t find Crazy Meg, if a sharp boy like you couldn’t
do it.”
“They’re going to try, anyway,” replied the boy.
“Indeed!”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“To-night. The two men with the boys think they know all about the
country,” and then the boy walked on.
“What luck!” cried Dan delightedly, the moment they were alone.
“Yes, Dean, we know all about the case now.”
“The money and papers are in possession of Crazy Meg?”
“It looks so.”
“And whoever finds her first----”
“Probably gets them.”
“We must!”
“We’ll try,” responded the indomitable Marcus grimly.
An hour later four persons, somewhat exhilarated from too many
potations of wine, came from the tavern and proceeded in the direction
of the forest and hills.
In their wake, at a safe distance, followed Marcus and Dean.
“We must keep them in sight,” remarked the former. “They are going, the
boy said, first to the cabin of the hunter who may know where Crazy Meg
is, and we must learn what he says.”
CHAPTER XXXII.
IN THE VALLEY.
“This is the way. Come on, Spofford. You boys want to hustle if we
expect to do any work to-night.”
Daley spoke, and his auditors were not alone his three companions.
They were pursuing a tortuous path along a dry river course in a
valley, and it was not difficult to keep them in view and be near to
them at the same time, and Marcus and Dean plodded on directly on the
trail of their enemies.
“The hunter said that we had better go to what he calls the bowl. He
says that Crazy Meg has a regular haunt near there.”
“Well, we’re near it now; only a little further, I reckon,” responded
Daley to Spofford’s remark.
It was less than an hour later when the quartette of plotters found
themselves in a spot that was strange and weird in the extreme.
The valley narrowed, then widened, circling out and forming a place
that bore a resemblance to a sugar bowl.
Stunted trees and underbrush covered the rocks, and there was only one
path leading to the cliffs above, a narrow ledge of stone that seemed
too frail and irregular for travel.
“The hunter said that Meg comes here every night to talk in her insane
way to the witches. We must hide ourselves and keep perfectly quiet,”
said Daley.
Daley and his companions bestowed themselves among the shrubbery, and
Dean and Marcus just where the outlet to the indentation was located
crouched down among some vines, their proximity all unsuspected by the
plotters.
Then there was entire silence for over an hour, during which Dean and
Marcus awaited developments anxiously.
They came at last.
From some near spot on the cliffs overhead, suddenly and startlingly,
rang out a piercing shriek of insane, mocking laughter.
Then at the point where the ledge of rocks descended, appeared a light.
It was borne by a woman, elfish in face and form--Crazy Meg.
She answered the description given of her by the tavern people too
accurately to be mistaken.
She bore a flaming pine-wood torch in her hand, and she began to
descend the narrow ledge of rocks with the ease and carelessness of a
sure-footed antelope.