This piece of rope he stretched across the road, fastening one end tothe rotten gate-post, long deserted by its gate, the other to a tree.Then he hung the lantern midway of this line. This seemed as much as hiswaning hope justified, but on second thought he stole into the house,took a black tomato crate marker from the kitchen shelf and on a paperflour-bag printed the words DANGER ROAD CLOSED. This he hung upon therope near the lantern. Then he sat down on the old carriage block wherethey used to stand the milk cans and waited. He felt rather foolishwaiting there and he wondered what he should do if a big car with thenumber 50792 and an eagle on it should really come along....
The night was pitch dark; somewhere in the lonely woods hard by thescreech owl was still calling, and the brisk autumn wind, freshening asthe night advanced into the wee hours, conjured up strange noises in theloose hanging sticks of the old ramshackle fence along the roadside.Dried leaves, driven by the fitful gusts of wind, sounded like someone,or some _thing_, hurrying by.
Now, indeed, Peter's fine hopes melted away as he waited there in thedarkness. To be sure, this was a main road, as likely a route as anythereabouts for autos, and in the daytime many passed there. But as hewaited now in the deep, enveloping night, and heard no sound save thehaunting voices caused by the wind and the low, monotonous singing ofthe forest life, it seemed unthinkable that any thrilling sequel of hissingular experience in his little room could occur. Everything was thesame as usual, the crickets chirping, the owl calling, the littlegraveyard down the road wrapped in darkness.... Glory was not going toknock on the humble door of Peter Piper of Piper's Crossroads....
Peter glanced down the dark road toward the graveyard; he had alwayshurried past that spot when coming home from the crossroads at night.Once he had seen a ghostly figure on the stone wall, which, on morecareful inspection the next morning, proved to be the sexton's shovelwith his hat on top of it. The little church was around the bend of theroad, within the hallowed acre.
Suddenly, as Peter glanced in the direction where the old leaninggravestones were wrapped in darkness, he saw something which harrowedhis very soul and made his blood run cold. One of those stones wasbathed in a dim, shadowy light. It was startling to see just one stoneand no others. It was not a light so much as an area of gossamerbrightness that enveloped it, a kind of gauze shroud. Peter gazed,unable to stir, his breaths coming short and fast. Then this dim shroudleft the tombstone and glided slowly through the graveyard, shedding itshovering brightness upon a small area of the stone wall as it crossed,and came steadily, steadily over toward Peter Piper.
CHAPTER XXII
HARK! THE CONQUERING HERO COMES
"What the dickens is this, anyway; a cemetery?" said Mr. Swiper, pokingthe finding light this way and that as the car of a thousand delightscame slowly up toward the bend. "It's some rocky road to Dublin, allright."
He cast the light along the dark road behind them and lookedapprehensively back as far as he could see. Evidently there was no causefor fear there and he dropped the car of a thousand delights into secondgear and picked his way along the narrow, rocky way, below the bend. "Iguess it will be better when we get around here," he said; "we have towatch our step in this jungle. Nice place to build a church, huh?" Hethrew the finding light upon the little edifice ahead and brightened thesmall stained-glass window, casting a soft reflection upon DeaconSmall's slanting marble slab nearby.
The small figure in a gray sweater with a rather tough look, cap drawnover his round face, who sat huddled up alongside the driver seemed notto partake of the delights which the big car claimed to furnish. Heseemed chilled and very much worried. He looked wistfully ahead at thegraveyard where the strange, soft, reflected light shone.
"The people around here haven't got any 'phones," he said. "Anywayswhat's the use 'phoning Mr. Bartlett because he'll only be in bed. Ifwe're going straight to Bridgeboro, gee whiz, what's the good of'phoning? What's the use waking people up around here, even if they havegot 'phones? Gee whiz, you're acting awful funny. Why didn't you ask meto 'phone when we were passing through a village?"
"You're going to get out and 'phone when I tell you to; see?" said ourfriend, the manual training teacher. "And you ain't going to give me nosass neither, understand? I don't let kids tell me my business."
"You just want to get rid of me, that's what," said Pee-wee. "Gee, youmight as well say what you mean, I'm not scared."
"Oh, ain't you? Well you do as I tell you and you'll be all right. Youdo as I tell you if you want to get a ride home; see? Mr. Bartlett andme are grown-up men, we are, and we know what's the right way to do.When a kid is told to do something he's gotter do it. You know so muchabout them scout kids; don't you know that?"
"I'll take care of this here car of Mr. Bartlett's. The next house wecome to I'm going to stop and let you out a little way past it andyou're going to show what you can do; you're going to go back and 'phoneto tell Mr. Bartlett we're on our way, and I'll wait for you."
"You wanted me to do that at a house that was empty and where therewasn't any 'phone; I could tell because there weren't any wires. Do youthink scouts can't see things? You just want to get rid of me, that'sall. You want to get rid of me where there aren't any 'phones or peopleor anything. Gee, maybe I'm not as strong as you, but anyway I know whatyou're up to, that's one sure thing."
"Are you going to do as I tell you?"
"I'm a scout and I'm not going to get out till you put me out, sothere."
Slowly the big car moved up the rocky hill and around the bend andthe finding light which had been focused on the church shifted its areaof distant brightness until Mr. Swiper turned it off just as the two bigheadlights threw their glare along the straight level road.
"THE ROAD IS CLOSED," SAID PETER.]
The small figure in the shabby gray sweater and tough looking cap wasnervous and apprehensive and angry with a righteous anger. But he didnot tremble like the poor little lonely figure waiting in the darknesswith eyes fixed upon those two dazzling, glaring eyes.Five-o-seven-nine-two. There it is, Peter; read it again as the cardraws nearer to make sure. Yes, that is a _five_. Five-o-seven-nine-two.Don't you see the little gilt eagle on the radiator? He trembled, oh howhe trembled.
"Looker here, you kid," said the driver to the huddled up figure besidehim; "I once croaked a boy scout that didn't do what I told him. Do yousee? I _croaked_ him. No scout kid can put anything over on me; I won'thave any kids interfering with my plans--"
Oh yes you will, Mr. Swiper. You may have escaped from jail, theauthorities of a dozen states may be after you. But just the same youare going to stop when a little trembling pioneer scout in homespunpantaloons tells you to. Look ahead, where that dim light is, Mr.Swiper, with the cropped hair. Do you see something shining there, heldin a little trembling hand? That is a knife, Mr. Swiper. The tremblinghand that holds that knife belongs to a soul possessed, Mr. Swiper. Heis crazed with a high resolve. See how he shakes? Oh he is not thinkingof _you_. He is thinking of the car, Mr. Swiper. He is not himself atall and he is going to slash your tires if you pass that rope, Mr.Swiper. So you see?
For it is said that opportunity knocks once at everyone's door, Mr.Swiper. It came to you on the ruins of that old school. And it has comeaway down here, Mr. Swiper, and knocked on the door of Peter Piper,pioneer scout, of Piper's Crossroads.
CHAPTER XXIII
PETER FINDS A WAY
"What's all this?" asked Mr. Swiper, as the car came to a stop beforethe rope.
With hand shaking and heart thumping, but borne up by a toweringresolve, Peter took his stand beside one of the front wheels. "The--theroad is--it's closed," he said, his voice trembling. The hand which heldthe knife stole below the shiny mud-guard and rested on the smooth,unyielding rubber. "The road is closed," he repeated.
Mr. Swiper climbed down out of the car, muttering an oath. He lookedapprehensively back along the road and being sure of no danger there hecrossed the rope and advanced a few yards along the road to inspect it.
&nbs
p; Peter was in the grip of terrible fear, fear at his own boldness. Hiswhole form trembled. He did not stop to think, he knew that if he weregoing to do anything effectual it must be in those few brief moments.There are many ways to cripple an auto without damaging it, but Peterknew nothing of autos except that they went by gasoline.
In an emergency he would have slashed a tire even while the machinemoved. Now that he had a little time in which to think he hurried behindthe auto and crawling beneath it turned on the outlet of the gas tank.He knew that the tank was in back and that there must be a pipe leadingfrom it. He had intended to wrench the thin pipe away, when his groping,trembling fingers stumbled on the outlet cock. This he turned on with asmuch terror as if he were setting fire to the universe.
Aghast at his own inspiration and boldness, he stood behind the car,shaking all over, as he heard the precious fuel running away in a steadystream and pattering on the road. Well, he would take the consequencesof this decisive act. From the moment he had seen those glaringheadlights and realized that he was participating in a reality, he hadbeen frantic, wondering what to do. Well, now he had "gone and done it"and he was terror-stricken at his own act. The mere wasting of so muchgasoline was a terrible thing in the homely life of poor Peter.
He paused behind the car listening. He had not the courage to goforward. He listened as the liquid fuel flowed away and trickled overthe spare tire-rack, and his beating heart seemed to keep time with it.
Ah, you Hunkajunk touring model with all your thousand delights, youcannot get along without this trickling liquid any better than yourlowly brother, the humble Ford. Would _all_ of it flow away before thatterrible man came back?
Now Peter heard voices in front of the car; the man had returned, andwas speaking to his confederate, his pal.
"I won't get out of the car and I won't desert it," he heard the smallstranger announce sturdily.
"Didn't you say you were with me?"
"I did, but I--"
"Then shut up. The road's all right; there's nothing the matter with it;this is some kind of a frame-up. Did you come along this way when youcopped it before; I mean you and that pair?"
"I don't know, I was under the buffalo robe."
They were thieves all right; Peter knew it now. And his assurance onthis point gave him courage. The strangers would be no safer to dealwith, but at least Peter knew now that he had the right on his side. Ina sudden burst of impulsive resolution he stepped around and in a spiritof utter recklessness spoke up. His own voice sounded strange to him.
"I--I know what you are--you're thieves," he said. "I can--I can tell bythe way you talk--and--and you--you can't take the car--even an inch youcan't--because all the gasoline is gone out of it and I did it and Idon't care--and you--you can _kill_ me if you want to only you can'ttake the car. And--and--pretty soon Ham Sanders will be along with themilk cans and he's not afraid of you--"
"What did you say about ham?" Pee-wee shouted down at him.
"Ham Sanders," Peter called back defiantly.
"I though you said ham sandwich," Pee-wee retorted.
"He can--he's even--he can even handle a bull," shouted Peter, carriedaway by excitement. "All the--the--gasoline is gone--it is--because nowI can hear it stop dripping--so--now--_now_ what are you going to do?So?"
CHAPTER XXIV
DESERTED
Mr. Swiper lost no time upon hearing Peter's startling announcement.Rushing to the back of the car he confirmed the information by afrantically hurried inspection, keeping up a running fire of curses thewhile. For a manual training teacher he was singularly profane.
Nor did he tarry to administer any corporeal rebukes, more than to sendpoor Peter reeling as he brushed him aside with imprecations in hisflight. Since the auto had been so generously handed to him by a kindboy scout, perhaps the loss of it was not such a shock as it mightotherwise have been. There were other autos.
Mr. Swiper saved himself and that was his chief concern. He was notgoing to take any chances with Ham Sanders. In the last few miles oftheir inglorious journey, Pee-wee had been trouble enough to him and howto get rid of that redoubtable youngster had been a question. So Mr.Swiper paused not to make an issue of Peter Piper's audacious act. Hewithdrew into the shelter of the woods and in the fullness of time tothe more secure shelter of an Illinois penitentiary where he was enteredunder the name of Chick Swiper, alias Chick the Speeder, alias Chick theGent, alias the Car King, alias Jack Skidder--perhaps because he was soslippery.
In his official pedigree there was nothing about his being a manualtraining teacher, though he must have had some knowledge of the use oftools for he removed the bars from his cell window with praiseworthyskill, and was later caught in Michigan, I think.
So there sat Pee-wee glaring down upon Peter, still frightened athimself for the stir that he had made in the great world.
"You foiled him," said Pee-wee. "Do you know what? He was a thief; hewas stealing this auto."
"Yes, and you're a thief too," said Peter, removing the lantern from therope and holding it up toward the auto. He was quite brave andcollected now. "And if you want to run you'd better do it beforeanybody comes, that's what I'll tell you. You're--you're dressed up justlike a thief; I can tell. Anyway, you can't take the auto."
"Do you call me a thief?" shouted Pee-wee. "That shows how much youknow; I'm a boy scout. Do you think scouts steal things? That shows howmuch you know about logic."
"You're a thief, you can't fool me," Peter retorted courageously. "Lookat the way you look. I'm not scared of you, either--or him either."
"How can I look at the way I look?" Pee-wee fairly screamed at him."You're crazy! I told him where it was and I told him--"
"That shows you're just as bad as he is," Peter insisted. "Are you goingto stay here till Ham Sanders comes and be arrested? Anyhow, you'rearrested now," he ventured, "and you have to wait."
"You tell me I'm arrested?" Pee-wee yelled. "When I'm taking this carback to its owner? Do you know what a boy scout is?"
"I know what they look like, they're all dressed up in uniforms," poorPeter said, "but you can be one without that."
"Now you see, you said so yourself," Pee-wee began.
"But they don't get dressed like thieves," Peter retorted.
"I'm on your side because you stopped him," shouted Scout Harris.
"I don't want you on my side," said Peter. "I'm a scout and I don't wantany--any--robbers on my side."
"You?" said Pee-wee.
"Yes, me."
"I bet you don't even know--I bet you don't even know--how many--howmany--"
"That shows you don't know anything about scouts at all," said Peter."I've got a book that tells all about it and when a man comes you'regoing to get arrested."
"_Me arrested_?"
"Yes you--you helped him to steal it and I don't believe anything yousay and you needn't think you can fool me. If you were a scout youwouldn't be scared to run away in the woods now."
"I've been--I've been--I--you're crazy," shouted Pee-wee, fairlybursting with indignation. "I--I've been lost in the woods more timesthan you have."
"Scouts don't get lost," said Peter.
"They get lost so they can find their way," Pee-wee yelled. "That showshow much you know. If scouts didn't get lost how could scouts rescuethem? You _have_ to get lost. The same as you have to get nearlydrowned. Do you want me to start a fire without a match? That'll showyou I'm a scout--only I'd have to have a certain kind of a stone. Ican--I can eat a potato from a stick without it going round; that'llprove it. Have you got a roasted potato?"
"No, and I wouldn't give one to a feller that steals automobileseither," said Peter. "I got a signal and I stopped you."
"I know all about signalling and you didn't get one either," Pee-weeshouted in desperation; "I know all about everything about scouting. Iknow--I know--I can prove I can drink out of a spring without the watergoing up my nose, so that's a test. I had a lot of adventures to-night,I was with thieves, and I'll te
ll you all--"
"I know you were," said Peter, "and you needn't tell me about it becauseI can tell by looking at you. Do you think you can make me think you ownthis car, and--and get roasted potatoes from me too, and run away when Ishow you where the spring is so you can prove it?"
"The man that owns this car is a friend of mine and he--he gave me aquarter--"
"You're a thief and I don't care what you say," said Peter, hisagitation rising with his anger, "and it's miles and miles to a villageand there's nothing but woods--"
"Scouts can eat moss, they can," Pee-wee interrupted.
"And you can't fool me," Peter continued.
"I'll go scout pace for you," Pee-wee said with a sudden inspiration--
"Yes, you'll go scout pacing away--"
"_Will you let me speak_?" Pee-wee fairly screeched.
"No, I won't. You're a robber and now you're caught and it serves youright because you didn't find out about the scouts and join them andhave fun that way and then you wouldn't have to go to jail forstealing."
W. Harris, mascot of the Raven Patrol, First Bridgeboro Troop, lookeddown with withering scorn upon this shabby advocate of scouting. AndPeter Piper returned the look fearfully, yet bravely. After thetremendous thing he had done he was not going to be fooled by thishoodlum crook who seemed to have haphazard knowledge of those wonderful,far-off beings in natty khaki and shining things hanging from theirbelts. He would not even discuss those misty, unknown comrades with thislawbreaker. Anybody might learn a little about the scouts, even a thief.
Pee-Wee Harris on the Trail Page 6