CHAPTER VI.
TWO BLACK BEARS IN TROUBLE.
Left alone in his room by the departure of Nestor, Fremont busiedhimself for a time with the newspapers which his friend had brought in.On the first page of the evening newspaper he found the source ofNestor's information concerning the movements of the police.
The story, under a New York date line, was highly colored, the reportertaking advantage of every strange happening to bring in paragraphs ofwhat he doubtless termed "local color." From first to last, every cluewas bent and twisted so as to point to the guilt of the boy. It seemedthat some cunning enemy was directing the reporters.
It was stated that Fremont had been seen in the building earlier in theevening, and that the night watchman had "reluctantly" admitted that hehad heard high words passing between Mr. Cameron and his employe. Theinterview with the watchman had taken place on the very night of thecrime. Since that time, the newspaper said, no one had seen him in NewYork, at least no one who would admit knowledge of his movements to thepolice.
On the whole, the newspaper made out a pretty good case against theboy, and Fremont was pleased to think that he had taken the advice ofhis friend and left the city. If he had not done so, he would now be inthe Tombs, he had no doubt.
After a time he tossed the paper aside and began walking up and downhis room, anxious for Nestor's return, anxious for a breath of mountainair--for the freedom of the high places, for the sniff of a camp-fire.It was then that he heard a footstep at his door.
He turned the lights down and waited, his hand on a weapon which hadbeen given him by Nestor. Then the door was opened softly and an armclad in khaki was thrust through the narrow opening. Fremont waited,but no face followed the arm into view. Then, approaching nearer, hesaw something on the sleeve which sent the hopeful blood surgingthrough his veins. It was the badge of the Black Bear Patrol, andbeneath it was the Indian arrow-head badge of the Boy Scouts. With ashout he caught at the door and threw it open. There, with adelightful smile on his broad face, stood Frank Shaw.
Fremont seized his chum about the neck and dragged him into the room,where the hugging and pulling about rivaled the efforts of real blackbears. Then Fremont closed and locked the door and dropped into achair, eyeing his friend as if he would like to devour him, black bearfashion.
"You didn't expect to see me here, did you?" asked Frank.
"I should say not. How did you know where to find me? When did youleave New York? How is Mr. Cameron? Tell me all about everything."
"When you get done asking questions," cried Frank. "First, Ned Nestortold me where to look for you. He told some of the others, too, but Ireckon they got lost on the way down. I've been waiting for you half ayear--it seems to me--a whole day, any way. And that reminds me thatyou've got to beat it."
"And how is Mr. Cameron? Is he conscious yet?"
"Not yet, and they say he can't live. Say, I came down here to enlistas drummer, so I could get a stand-in with the army fellows, and, whatdo you think, they wouldn't enlist me! Said I was too short and fat.Me short and fat! I'm going to write up that recruiting officer andhave Dad publish him to the world."
"There is a lot of talk about the case?" asked Fremont.
"Of course there is," was the reply. "But what do you think about thatrecruiting officer? He ought to be pinched. Me too short and fat!Ever hear me drum?"
"Only once," was the reply. "Then the boys held me while you drummed."
"Never you mind that," Frank replied. "I'm going to tell you now thatyou've got to beat it. Understand? You've got to get out rightaway--not to-morrow, but now."
"Yes, I know the police are after me," said Fremont, gravely. "Thereis some one who is keeping them posted as to our movements. It appearsto me that this crime was directed against me as well as against Mr.Cameron. What are you going to do now?"
"Do?" demanded the other. "Do? I'm going to stay here and fight foryou. What else could I do? And I'm going to write to father and tellhim all about the case, and say you are innocent, and he'll show theother newspapers where to head in at."
"We've got to get the proof first," said Fremont. "The case looks darkfor me," Fremont added with a sigh. "Nestor will soon be here, andhe'll be glad to see you."
"I hope he'll come before the police, do," said Frank. "I'll tell you,old man, that they're hot after that reward. They know you're in thishotel. I don't doubt that they know the room you're in. You've got tobeat it, I tell you."
"I've got to wait for Ned Nestor," said Fremont.
"Say," said Shaw, "do you know who it is that brought you here?"
"Ned Nestor, of course."
"But do you know who he is? He's the best amateur detective in theworld. He's always looking for a chance to help those accused ofcrime. Even the high police officers of New York ask him to look intocases for them. Some day he'll be at the head of the United Statessecret service department. You see. He'll get you through if any onecan. Leave it to him. Here's some one coming now. Perhaps it is Ned."
But it was not Ned, for there were noises in the hall, just beyond thedoor, which indicated a struggle, and then a sharp voice called out:
"Cut it out, youse feller! Cut it out, or I'll bring out me educatedleft. Let me alone, I say. I ain't no tramp."
Both boys recognized the voice, and Fremont hastened to unlock thedoor. When it was opened the second surprise of the evening confrontedthe fugitive. Jimmie McGraw stood in the hall threatening an angrywaiter with his clenched fists. Although the boy was small, and nomatch for the waiter, he was exceedingly nimble, and the waiter wasunable to lay hands on him.
"He's tryin' to throw me out," exclaimed Jimmie, grinning at sight ofthe boys. "Tell him it is all right."
"We are expecting the boy," Fremont said. "Kindly let him alone."
"I'm ordered to throw him out of the hotel," roared the waiter. "He's atramp."
Fremont pacified the fellow with a silver offering and, drawing Jimmieinside of the room, closed the door. Then the three boys, lookingfrom one to the other, broke out in uproarious laughter. For Jimmie wasa sight to behold. His clothing was torn, and his hands and face lookedas if they had never seen water.
"How did you get down here?" asked Fremont, after a moment. "I leftyou in New York, to look after that end of the Cameron case."
"Huh!" exclaimed the boy. "You didn't take the railroad iron up withyou when you came down, did you? Nor yet you didn't lock up theside-door Pullmans. I got fired as second assistant to the privatesecretary to the scrubwoman, 'cause she got pinched, so I came on downhere to help Uncle Sam keep the border quiet."
"They won't let you drum," interrupted Fatty. "You're too short."
"I don't want to drum," was the indignant reply. "I want to get overinto Mexico an' live in the mountains. Say, if you boys have anymazuma, just pass it out. I'm hungry enough to eat the Statue ofLiberty in the harbor."
"I'm hungry, too," said Frank Shaw.
"I knew it," observed Jimmie. "Come on. Let's go out and eat."
"Wait," said Frank, "there's something doing here. Fremont's got toget out of this room right away and I'll go with him. There is awindow we can climb out of. When we get out I'll plant Fremontsomewhere and circle back here with some provisions for you.Understand?"
"Me for the hike out of the window, too," said Jimmie. "I see myselfwaitin' here for you to come back with grub after you get your share.You'll come back--not."
"Sure I'll come back," replied Frank. "Besides, some one's got to stayhere. You for the bed, Jimmie," he added, with a sudden smile on hisface, brought out, doubtless, by the arrival of a brilliant idea, "youfor the bed, and if the cops come here you're the boy that has theroom--see? And there ain't no other boy that you know of. That willkeep them guessing. They'll think they've been following the wrongkid, and we'll all get across the Rio Grande before they wake up. Youfor the bed, Jimmie."
But Jimmie held back, saying that he di
d not feel in need of a bed, butdid feel in need of a square meal. But the boys, laughing at the wryfaces and savage speeches he made, helped him off with his clothes,turned out the lights, and dropped out of the window into an alleywhich ran, one story below, at the rear of the hotel.
They were none too soon in concluding their arrangements, for as theylit on the ground below a heavy knock came on the door of the room theyhad just left. As they slipped off in the darkness they heard Jimmiedoing a pretty good imitation of a snore.
"Say," Fremont said, as they drew up on a street corner after a shortrun, "they'll arrest Jimmie. If the cops ask the waiters, they'll soonknow that there were others in that room, and they'll arrest him forobstructing an officer. I wish we had brought him with us. PoorJimmie!"
"He'll get out of it in some way," laughed Frank. "They won't hold himlong if they do pinch him. Anyway, we want him around there to meetNestor when he comes back. He'll tell some cock-and-bull story thatwill put him to the good with the cops."
But Fremont was not so sure of the resourcefulness of Jimmie, andworried over the matter not a little as they walked the streets,quieting down now, for the soldiers had been called back to camp andthe citizens of the town were seeking their homes and beds. As forFrank, he was talking most of the time of the supper he was hoping toget before long. The boys did not care to enter a conspicuousrestaurant, and so they chose an obscure eating house on a side street.
At first glance the place seemed without customers as they entered, andthe boys were glad to have the room to themselves, but as soon as theywere seated two men came in and took seats at a table not far away fromtheir own. The men were dusky fellows, with long hair and sharp blackeyes. They ordered sparingly, as if they cared little for food, and,after glancing furtively around the room, spent their time in whisperedconversation.
Fremont thought he saw something familiar in one of the men, and kepthis eyes on his face until the coarse features, the sullen grin, becameassociated in his mind with the Cameron building in New York. It didnot seem possible that this could be true, yet there was a face he hadseen in the corridors of the great building, and every moment theidentification was becoming more definite.
"Ever see that man before?" he asked of Frank, nudging the boy andpointing with his fork, held so low down that it could not be seen bythe others.
"I'm sure I have," was the reply. "He was at the hotel when I wentupstairs to your room," Frank went on. "I remember now."
Before anything more could be said the two men arose and approached thetable where the boys sat. Railing at the adverse fate which hadbrought him in contact with this man after a successful flight from theNew York police, Fremont arose and darted toward the door. He gainedthe doorway before the other could seize him, and there turned to lookback.
Shaw had not been so fortunate in escaping the grasp of the Mexican,for such he appeared to be. When Fremont looked back the fellow wastrying his best to throw the boy to the floor, while his companionstood by with clenched fists. The boy was about to turn back to theassistance of him chum when he saw with joy that this would not benecessary.
Boy Scouts in Mexico; Or, On Guard with Uncle Sam Page 6