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Submarine Boys on Duty

<h2 id="id00432" style="margin-top: 4em">CHAPTER VI</h2> <h5 id="id00433">ALONG THE TRAIL OF TROUBLE</h5> "I wonder if we shall find our man at home?" remarked Jack Benson, as he and his chum drove over the road to Waverly Center in the early evening. "I wonder if he'll settle the bill!" rejoined Hal. "If he has the money, and doesn't settle, it'll show what poor collectors we are," laughed Jack. "Very few men keep eight hundred dollars around the house," objected young Hastings. "And our man won't have that amount in cash, either. I'd be almost afraid to take that amount of real money, at night. If Mr. Forrester is willing to do something pleasant for us, it will be in the form of a check, of course." "I'd like to come out all right with Mr. Forrester, of course," Hal admitted. "But, to tell the truth, I haven't been thinking much about Jack, old fellow, all my real thoughts are on our wonderful chance to be part of the trial crew of the 'Pollard.'" "Same here," admitted Benson. "Say, money does look rather small, compared with a chance like ours. Now, doesn't it?" So they hardly mentioned Mr. Forrester on the rest of that cool, delightful drive. Arrived at Waverly Center, however, they had to inquire the way to the Forrester house. They found it, a comfortable though not pretentious house. The owner was at home, and saw them at once. "May we see you alone, Mr. Forester?" asked Jack Benson, respectfully. "Is it as bad as all that?" laughed their host, I a pleasant-faced, rather bald man past forty. "Come into my little den, then." He conducted them to a small room that looked as though it served partly the purposes of library and partly of office. "Now, what can I do for you?" inquired Mr. Forrester. "We represent Mr. Farnum, of Dunhaven," began Jack, slowly. "Farnum? Oh, yes, the boat-builder. He must know that I don't want anything new in his line, and on any other business I imagine he would have sent someone—er—older." "Mr. Farnum believed you would find it wholly convenient, now, to settle the account for the last bill," Benson went on, slipping the statement from an inner pocket and laying it on the desk before Mr. Forrester. That gentleman frowned slightly. "I trust we haven't called at the wrong time, and that it will be wholly convenient for you this evening," Jack continued. "But, see here, young man, I know nothing about you. You have the bill, true, but it is not receipted." "I will receipt it, in Mr. Farnum's name." "All well and good," replied Mr. Forrester. "But—pardon me—how do I know that you have any authority to receipt for this account?" "Then I think you will appreciate my painstaking care to make everything regular and satisfactory," laughed Jack, very quietly. "Here is a paper, signed by Mr. Farnum, authorizing me to receipt this account in his name. You may keep this authorization along with the receipt. Mr. Forrester, it is growing late, and we are obliged to be at business early in the morning. You will oblige us by letting us have your check, won't you?" Benson spoke as though he had not a doubt of immediate settlement. Yet his tone and his manner were such as not to give the least offense to the man who was being "dunned." "Why, this—er—is rather a late time in the day to collect bills," hinted Mr. Forrester, in an uncertain voice. "Had the matter not been just a little pressing we wouldn't have ventured over as late," Benson replied, softly. "However, you understand what I would say, don't you, Mr. Forrester?" There was something about the young speaker's manner, his tone, the look in his eyes, that proclaimed him to be anything but a "quitter." Mr. Forrester began to feel that, if he succeeded in evading payment this evening, he would only have to see these young men frequently. "Well, you see, Benson," he said, at last, "I don't want to draw for such a sum against my check account before to-morrow." "I think we could come again to-morrow, if we have to," responded young Benson, as though thinking it over. "I am going to make a deposit in my bank in the morning," continued the man. "Then we are to come again to-morrow evening?" insisted Jack. "Why, hang it, no. If you'll take cash, instead of check, I can let you have the money to-night." But that gentleman added, under his breath: "I may as well settle to-night as have them coming again to-morrow." "Why, certainly we'll take the cash, to-night," replied young Benson, his face beaming at thought of how easily a fine commission was to be earned as part of an evening's pleasure. Mr. Forrester, having made the offer, began secretly to regret it. He was a man who meant to pay his debts, but just now he felt that he would really like to have the money to use in other directions. Jack, however; began to suspect that some such thought was in the other's mind. "With your permission, Mr. Forrester," said the boy, reaching over the desk, "I'll borrow one of your pens." In a firm, clear hand Jack Benson promptly receipted the bill, dating the receipt as well, and affixing his own name as the collector. "Now, that's all done," smiled Jack, pleasantly, putting back the pen, blotting the fresh ink and passing the paper half forward. Stifling a sigh, Mr. Forrester rose, going to his safe. A few turns of the combination lock and he pulled the steel door open. "Nine hundred and fifty dollars that came in this afternoon. I intended to bank it in the morning," he said, then began to count "If a burglar broke in to-night and cracked the safe," he added, with a laugh, "I'd be glad, in the morning, that I had settled this bill with cash." Jack received the bills with a rapidly beating heart. He counted them, found the amount correct, and passed half the money to Hal Hastings. "For safety, Hal," he suggested, "I think we'd better divide the money, and then each of us put half of his own pile in each shoe." Mr. Forrester watched with something like an amused smile as the two youngsters crossed the room, removing their shoes, and putting small packets of bills down inside. "I suppose that's in order that a hold-up artist would pass the money by," he chuckled. "Well, boys, I wish you a safe journey back with your money. We don't often have any hold-ups on these quiet roads, anyway." Before leaving, Jack took pains to thank his host again, very courteously, for the settlement of the account. Then the boys went outside, untied the horse, got into the buggy and drove away. "Well, that's a pretty smooth profit for one evening," laughed Jack, as he turned the horse's head into the highway. "Forty dollars you make, in one evening," commented Hal. "Twenty apiece, you mean, old fellow. You were with me in this." "But I didn't have to do any of the talking, or anything else." "Just the same, Hal, you know we're still partners." "Whew!" said Hastings, uneasily. "I shall be nervous until we reach Mr. Farnum's house and hand him the money. Hold up a minute, Jack, while we're near houses." "What's the game?" inquired Benson, as his chum leaped down into the road and began to rummage about. "These may be of some use to us in the buggy; just possibly," replied Hal, returning with a half dozen stones, the size of hens' eggs, which he placed on the seat between them. "It's the only form of arms we have, Jack," he whispered, "and we're carrying a heap more money than we could make good in a long time." "We've got only a few miles to go," laughed Jack, easily. "Besides who'd ever think of holding up boys? And no one but Mr. Forrester knows that we have the cash." In the first five miles that they drove from Waverly Center the boys passed only two other horse-drawn vehicles and one automobile. Then, suddenly, the keen ears of both boys heard a sound as of some human being wailing in acute distress. A moment later they came in sight of the cause of the sounds. A hatless, dirty, illy-dressed youngster of perhaps ten years stood by the roadside, howling and digging his soiled fists into his eyes as he blubbered. At sight of the horse and buggy this small sample of human misery looked up to call, appealingly: "Hey! Oh, mister!" "Well," demanded Jack, reining in the horse, "what's the matter?" "Oh, mister, mister! It's me mother!" "What's the matter with her? Where is she?" "She's in there," pointing under the trees just off the road. "We was walkin' along, an' one o' them otterbubbles must ha' hit her. She give a yell, then crawled inter them bushes. She hain't said nuthin' lately—an' oh! I'm dreadful scared!" "Poor little chap!" muttered Jack, handing the reins to his friend. "I'll go in and see what's wrong." But Hal also jumped out, hastily hitching the horse. Then they followed their youthful guide in under the trees, to a clump of bushes. There in the dark Jack and Hal saw a huddled mass of something lying on the ground. Benson was the first to bend over, but Hal, also peering intently, was close at his side. "Why, this isn't anything human," called Jack. "It's just a—" Thump! A jarring blow fell upon him from behind, knocking the boy nearly unconscious. Hal, struck at the same moment, felt his head reel, and then did lose consciousness for a few moments. "Ha, ha! Ho! ho!" roared the elfin youngster, his tears suddenly giving place to laughter as he fled. It was Joshua Owen, aided by his bullying nephew, Dan Jaggers, who had made this sudden, treacherous assault. That both were well prepared for the miserable trick was shown by the speed with which they tied the hands of the helpless boys behind them. "Now, bring your prize along," directed Owen, jubilantly, as he picked up Hal Hastings, bearing that youth on his shoulder. Jaggers, though not a giant, was strong enough to do the same with Jack Benson. Further and further into the thicket they bore their captives, pausing only once, to gag their charges as soon as the latter showed a disposition to yell. At last the rascally pair halted in the depths of the woods, dumping their human burdens on the ground. "You're not the lightest thing I ever carried," growled Josh Owen, panting somewhat, as he reached for his pipe and filled it. "Now!" clicked Dan Jaggers, shaking a dirty, heavy fist over Jack's face. "I can pay you back for that black eye, and all the other mean things you done to me, you sneak!" "Oh, we'll pay ye both back," gritted Owen, lighting his pipe and puffing. "An' say! I hear ye're both slated for the launchin' of the 'Pollard' to-morrow, and that ye're to have a try as members of the crew. Well, ye won't be at the launching! Take it from me that, if ye ever git back to Dunhaven, 'twon't be for many a day yet. We've got a fine place to hide ye, near here. Nobody'll ever find ye, even if they take the trouble t'look. And, as the days go by, Dan and me will take plenty of chance t'show ye just how we feel about ye. We'll pay ye back, with loads of interest, younkers, for the mean things ye've done to us!" As if to emphasize his spite, Owen gave each of them a kick as he stood over the boys, glaring down at them. In the minds of Jack and Hal, torment was raging. Ordinarily, it would have been bad enough to be certain of missing the launching of the submarine boat, and of possibly losing their places in the crew. But now, a far greater terror assailed them. They had collected the eight hundred dollars. If they failed to appear and to turn it over, Jacob Farnum would have the best reason in the world for believing them defaulters. "Wondering what I'm going to do t'ye, to square matters, ain't ye?" demanded Dan Jaggers, bending over and glaring into Jack's eyes. "Well, go on guessin'. My hate's that great that I'm goin' ter take plenty o' time to think it over 'fore I do a thing t'ye." "I guess, first-off, Dan," observed his uncle, "ye'd better go back t' the road an' leave that horse somewheres further off. Probably, if ye do, it'll trot back into Dunhaven, and that'll be good enough." "Got any money for licker?" demanded Dan. "I can git some an' bring it back." "Go through the boys' pockets. Ye ought to find some cash there," hinted Owen. Dan looted a few dollars from the pockets of each captive. Jack and Hal, however, were satisfied that their captors knew nothing of the great sum of money they had collected. "And, while I think of it, Dan," continued Owen, "ye know where to leave them boys' shoes. Ye know who they'll fit." Josh Owens started by unlacing Jack's shoes roughly and hauling them off. As he did so, oven in the darkness, he saw something fall the ground. "Money!" gasped Josh Owen, in evil delight. "Look at the piles of it! Hurry with your younker, Dan. Maybe ye'll have the same luck." Almost in a twinkling, it seemed to the groaning captives, the rascally pair had the whole sum of eight hundred dollars in their greedy hands. Now, what would going back to Dunhaven be like for these two hapless submarine boys? Even though they returned, manfully, at the first chance, how would their story of having been robbed sound? What a thin, hollow mockery it would seem, backed only by their own word! To the two chums it almost seemed as though death would be sweeter! <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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