Ted Strongs Motor Car

by Taylor, Edward C

  "What do you want with him?"

  "I'm depending on him to lead us to headquarters."

  For an hour or more they rode about the town, making the machine as conspicuous as possible.

  "Bud, we're being followed," said Ted, nodding toward a yellow car that had been in evidence oftener than mere chance made possible.

  "Yep. I've had him spotted fer some time," answered Bud.

  "Why didn't you say something about it?" Ted laughed at Bud's silence.

  "Oh, I knew that you were on to it, too," was the characteristic reply.

  "What do you suppose he's chasing us for? He must know that he can't harm us."

  "He don't want us. He wants that red car. It's a beautiful piece of red evidence against him an' his gang. Yer see, it's ther best kinder a clew."

  "Right again. But he needn't think he can steal it, for he can't."

  They put the car up during the middle of the day.

  "We'll let it rest for a while," said Ted, as they ran it into a public garage. "This evening we'll take it out again, and if we're followed then we'll be sure that it is Checkers, and that he is on our trail."

  It was seven o'clock when they trundled forth again.

  A bright moonlight night made motoring highly enjoyable, and after they had run about for a couple of hours Bud got out, saying that he was tired of the sport, and would return to the hotel, and leave Ted to take the machine back to Don Dorrington's basement.

  They had been followed by the yellow car again, but in going through Forest Park they had managed to give their trailer the slip among the intricate roads and bypaths, and had seen nothing of him for half an hour.

  As soon as Ted had let Bud out, he hit up the speed, for the boulevard was comparatively free of traffic, and he fairly spun along to the western part of the city.

  Cutting off the boulevard, he entered upon a side street to make a short cut to Dorrington's house.

  He noticed, as he turned into the side street, a light-colored car standing close to the curb as he passed, but so many cars were standing in front of houses here and there that he paid no attention to it.

  But he had no sooner passed than the light-colored car glided after him noiselessly. Ted's own machine was making so much noise that he was not aware of the presence of another car until it was abreast of him, and so close that he could reach out his hand and touch it.

  He thought the car was trying to pass him close to the curb, and started to turn out to give it more steerage room.

  "Sheer off, there," he called, "until I can get out of here."

  Suddenly something wet struck him in the face. He gave a gasp, as a fearful suffocating pain filled his head and lungs, and he sank down into the bottom of the car, insensible.

  At the same instant the man in the other car reached over and throttled the red car, then stopped his own.

  Leaving his own car in the middle of the road, he leaped into the red car and gave her her full head.

  In half an hour the red car had left the city and was speeding along a smooth country road in the moonlight.

  Ted still lay in a stupor in the bottom of the car, and the only sound that came from him was an occasional gasp as his lungs, trying to recover from a shock, took in short gulps of air.

  It was midnight before the red car slowed down.

  Ahead in the moonlight rose the black bulk of a building.

  It presented the appearance of a country house of some pretensions.

  The house was dark. Not a light appeared at any of the windows.

  The red car approached it cautiously, running into the deep shadow cast by a high brick wall. A dog on the other side of the wall barked a warning.

  The man in the red car whistled softly in a peculiar way.

  A window was raised somewhere, and the whistle was answered by another.

  In a few minutes there was the sound of a man walking on a graveled path, then the creak of rusty iron and a gate swung open.

  "All right?" asked a voice at the gate.

  "You bet. Got them both," answered the man in the red machine.

  "Bully for you. Run her in."

  The red machine, with Ted still lying in the bottom, ran into a large yard, and the gate was closed again, and the car was stopped in front of the house.

  "Come, help me carry him in," said the man in the car. "He'll be coming around all right in a few minutes, then we may have some trouble with him, for he's the very devil to fight."

  Ted was dragged out of the car in no gentle manner, and carried into the house, which was unlighted save where the moonlight shone through the windows.

  "Into the strong room with him," said the man of the house.

  Ted was carried into a room and dumped upon a lounge. Then a light was struck, and both men bent over the prostrate form of the leader of the broncho boys.

  Both of them started back.

  "Whew! You must have given him an awful dose, Checkers," said the man of the house.

  "Had to do it, Dude. If I hadn't, I'd never got him here, that's a cinch."

  "Well, get his gun off before he comes to."

  Ted was stripped of his weapons, a glass of water was thrown into his face, and he began to regain consciousness.

  He had been shot down with an ammonia gun, and the powerful alkaloid gas had almost killed him. For a long time he breathed in gasps, but his splendid constitution pulled him through.

  When they saw that he was recovering, the two men left the room, after examining the iron-barred windows, and as they went out they locked and barred the door behind them.

  CHAPTER XVII.

  MURDER IN THE HAUNTED HOUSE.

  Ted lay for a long time only half conscious.

  But gradually his senses returned, and he opened his eyes to find himself in darkness, trying hard to think what had happened to him.

  He knew that he had been felled by something powerful and terrible, that had knocked him in a heap so suddenly that he hardly knew what had happened to him.

  Slowly the consciousness of it all came to him. Some one in an automobile had ridden alongside him and thrown ammonia in his face.

  His eyes were still smarting with it, and he wondered, seeing no light, if it had blinded him, and he was now lying in the dark when there was light all around him.

  He struggled with this thought for a moment, because the idea of going blind was terrible to him.

  He wondered where he was, and felt around and learned that he was lying on a couch.

  Then he swung his feet to the floor and sat up. The ammonia had left him still weak, but gradually he became stronger, and got to his feet and began to explore the room with his fingers.

  He found a chair and a table, and presently came to the door, which he tried to open, but could not.

  Passing around the room, he arrived at the window, and, looking through the glass, saw a star, and thanked Heaven that he could see.

  He tried the fastenings of the window, unlocked it, and threw it up, stretching out his hand. The window was closed with iron bars.

  He had made the circuit of the room, and had discovered that he was securely shut in.

  He went back to the lounge and lay down to think matters over.

  He felt quite sure that the man Checkers had been his assailant. The warning had not been without reason, after all.

  As he lay quietly he heard footsteps in the next room. Two men evidently had entered it. They were talking, and occasionally, when their voices rose higher than usual, he could catch a word or two.

  From the tones of their voices he learned that the conversation was not of the most pleasant nature. They were quarreling about something.

  By degrees their voices grew higher, and occasionally Ted caught such words as "money," "half," "thousand," enough to tell him that they were dividing something.

  "They're quarreling over the swag," said Ted to himself. "Good! 'When thieves fall out, honest men get their dues,'" he quoted. "Keep it up, and I'l
l get you yet."

  They did keep it up.

  It was the voice of Checkers that rose high.

  "I tell you I'll have half or I'll split on you, if I go to the 'stir' for the rest of my life."

  "If you do split, you won't go to the 'stir.' The boys will kill you before you get the chance."

  "Well, what's your proposition?"

  "I'll give you five thousand. That's enough for putting me next to the train. What do you want? The earth? Didn't I do the dirty work? If I'd been caught, who'd have been soaked? You? I guess not. It would have been me who would have been killed, for I'm like the other fellows—I'd have fought until they killed me. You're not entitled to more than five thousand, and that's all you'll get."

  "I won't take it. Half or I squeal."

  "Squeal, then."

  There was a sudden trampling of feet in the other room, the crash of an overturning table, followed by a yell of death agony, and the thud of a falling body.

  "Great Scott, one of them is dead," said Ted, with a shudder.

  He was listening intently, and heard a scuffle of feet, then hurried footsteps died away and a door slammed somewhere.

  Deep silence followed.

  Then the horror of the situation burst upon Ted, The house had been deserted by the only living creature, except himself, who was left to starve to death in this prison, with a dead man in the next room.

  One or the other of the two men who had held him captive had done murder and escaped with the stolen money.

  Ted lay speculating which was dead and which had escaped, but he could make nothing of it.

  The night dragged wearily on for Ted could not sleep, for thinking of the dead man in the next room, and his own precarious position.

  He reviewed the chances of his being rescued. They were very slim, indeed.

  Bud and Chief Desmond would start a hunt for him about the city, but would not find him, and no one would think of looking for him in this deserted house.

  But at last the night passed, and Ted watched with a grateful heart the gradual dawning of the day.

  At last it was light enough to see, and he looked around the room.

  It was old-fashioned and high. Through the window he could see a bit of the high brick fence, and a few trees and long, tangled, dead grass. That was the extent of his view from the window.

  He examined the door, which was the only other means of exit from the room.

  It was very heavy, and made of oak. The lock on it was massive and old-fashioned, and set into the oak frame so that an examination of it dispelled all hope of getting it off.

  If he was to escape there was only one way, to cut a hole in the door. He felt for his knife. It was gone, and Ted wandered disconsolately to the couch and sat down to ponder. But the more he racked his brains the further he got from a plan of escape.

  The day dragged slowly on, but he would not sleep for fear that he might miss some one passing to whom he could call and bring assistance.

  Late in the afternoon he stepped to the window and looked at an apple tree in the grounds beyond. It was full of red apples, and he was very hungry, but they were not for him.

  He wondered that he had not heard any one pass along the road on the other side of the brick wall.

  Suddenly he noticed that the leaves in an apple tree were being violently agitated, although there was not a breath of wind stirring.

  Some one was in the tree, and his first impulse was to yell for help, then he reflected that if it was a boy pilfering apples the cry would scare him, and his only chance for rescue would be ruined by the boy running away.

  He would wait for the boy to come to the ground, and would then speak to him.

  But as he was watching the tree intently the movement of the leaves ceased, and soon he perceived a peering face and two dark, roguish eyes. They reminded him of a bird, so bright and inquiring were they.

  Ted smiled at the eyes, and thought he saw an answering twinkle in them.

  They disappeared after a few moments. The leaves shook again, and a boy of about ten years, incredibly ragged, with a dirty face, hands, and bare feet and legs, dropped to the ground. His head was covered with a tangled mop of brown hair in lieu of a hat.

  The boy stared at the window, all the while munching an apple, while from the bulges in his scant trousers it was evident that he had others for future consumption.

  "Hello, boy!" said Ted, with a friendly way.

  "Hello! Who are you?" said the boy, coming a few steps nearer, to get a better view.

  "Do you mean what's my name?"

  "Uh-huh!"

  "My name is Ted Strong. What's yours?"

  "Napoleon Bonaparte."

  Ted laughed at the solemnity of the boy when he gave this answer.

  "Well," said the boy, "it's just as much Napoleon as yours is Ted Strong."

  "But my name is Ted Strong."

  "Aw, come off."

  "All right, if you don't believe me, ask me any questions you like to prove it."

  "Where do you come from?"

  "Moon Valley, South Dakota."

  "That's right. What's the names of some of Ted Strong's fellers?"

  Ted named them all, the boy giving a nod after every name.

  "Now, what's the name of your horse? The one you ride most?"

  "Sultan. You seem to know something about me."

  "You bet. Well, maybe you're all right, but what are you doing here? I always thought you stayed out West—away out West."

  "Usually I do."

  "Then what are you doing in the haunted house?"

  "Is this a haunted house?"

  "You bet. There was a feller killed there once, and nobody will live in it no more."

  "Honest, now, what is your name?"

  "My name's— Say, are you sure enough Ted Strong?"

  "Certainly I am."

  The boy came closer, looking at Ted fixedly.

  "Gee, I wouldn't go inter that house fer a hundred million dollars."

  "I've been here all night, and it didn't scare me any."

  "That settles it. I reckon you must be Ted Strong. He's the only feller I ever heard of that wouldn't be scared to stay in a haunted house. How did you get there?"

  Without hesitation, Ted told the boy how he had been held up by a man in an automobile, and knocked out by ammonia fumes, and then locked up in the house. But he said nothing about the murdered man in the next room.

  "Now I've told you all about myself, it's only fair that you should tell me about yourself."

  "Oh, I ain't nothin'. I'm just 'Scrub.'"

  "Haven't you got any other name?"

  "Nary one that I know of that's fastened to me all the time."

  "How's that?"

  "When I'm living with old man Jones, I'm Scrub Jones, and when I'm with Mr. Foster, I'm Scrub Foster, and that way. I don't belong to nobody, an' I just live around doing chores for my keep. Just now I ain't got no place to stop, and I'm sleeping in hay-stacks and living on apples and turnips and potatoes, when I make a fire and bake 'em, and once in a while I trap a rabbit. But, gee, what a good time you must have!"

  "How would you like to go with me out to Moon Valley?"

  "Aw, quit your kiddin'."

  "I mean it I'd just like to take you out there and give you a good time for once in your life."

  "Would you? By golly, you can."

  "Then I'll tell you what to do. Go around to the front door and come in, and back to this room, and unlock the door and let me out, and we'll go together."

  "Gee, I wouldn't go into that house for four thousand barrels of hoarhound candy. Say, are you a prisoner?"

  "I am, and if you don't come in and let me out I can't take you with me to Moon Valley."

  "That's so. But I'm scared of the ghost."

  "Oh, so you're afraid, are you?"

  At this the boy flushed and fiddled with his toes in the grass.

  "No kid that's afraid could live in Moon Valley. He'd be scare
d to death in a week."

  "Are there ghosts there?"

  "There are no such things as ghosts. Bet you never saw one yourself."

  "No, I never did. But all the folks around here say there is ghosts in that house."

  "Well, say there are, they wouldn't come out in the daytime, would they?"

  "I reckon not. Gee, I'll come in."

  The boy disappeared like a flash, and in a few moments Ted heard the front door open, then a scream.

  "I'll bet he's found the dead man," said Ted, aloud, in a tone of annoyance. "That's just my luck."

  The door slammed, and all was silent. The boy evidently had run away, and Ted was left alone in the house with the dead man.

  Once more darkness descended upon the earth, and Ted took up another hole in his belt, and tried to believe that he was not hungry.

  About nine o'clock Ted, who was lying on the couch looking at the ceiling, saw a faint flicker of light pass across it, and sprang to his feet. It was the light cast by a lantern somewhere outside.

  He sprang to the window and looked out.

  Behind the brick wall he could see the reflection of a bobbing lantern, and hear the shuffle of many feet.

  "Ho, there!" he cried.

  The shuffle stopped, and a voice that was trembling with fear answered him.

  "Come in here, and let me out," called Ted.

  "We'll be thar in a minute," was the answer, and presently the front door was thrown open, followed by exclamations, as whoever had come in viewed the body in the next room.

  Then the voices were outside his door.

  "You open it an' go in," said a voice. "You're the constable."

  "Well, supposin' he's got a gun?" asked the constable tremulously.

  "Don't be afraid," said Ted. "I have no gun. They took everything away from me."

  "There! Ain't that enough? Open the door."

  Ted heard the bar being taken down, then the key grate in the lock, and the door was thrown open with a bang. He found himself looking into the barrels of a shotgun.

  "If yer makes a motion, I'll blow yer head plumb off, blame yer," shouted the man with the gun.

  "Honest," said Ted, "I'm not armed."

  "How come yuh here?"

  "I was made insensible by ammonia fumes and brought here last night."