CHAPTER XXI
THE CHICKEN THIEVES
OVER in one corner of the bay-window room, as Betty had already namedit, was a black register in the floor, designed to let the warm airfrom a stove in the parlor below heat the bedroom above. Toward thisBetty crept cautiously, testing each floor board for creaks before shetrusted her whole weight to it. She reached the register, which wasopen, and was startled at the view it opened up for her. She drew backhastily, afraid that she would be discovered.
Lieson and Wapley stood almost squarely under the register, above thecrates of chickens and looking down on the fowls.
"I began to think you wasn't coming," Lieson said slowly, putting ahand on his companion's shoulder to steady himself as he lurched andswayed. "I got soaked to the skin waiting for you in those bushes."
"Well, it's some jaunt to Laurel Grove," came Wapley's response. "I gota man, though. Coming at ten to-night. There's no moon, and he says hecan make the run to Petria in six or seven hours, barring tire trouble."
"Does he take us, too?" demanded Lieson. "I'm tired of hanging aroundhere. What kind of a truck has he got?"
Wapley was so long in answering that Betty nervously wondered if hecould have discovered the register. She risked a peep and found thatboth men were absorbed in filling their pipes. These lighted anddrawing well, Wapley consented to answer his companion's question.
"Got a one-ton truck. Plenty of room under the seat for us. He's kindof leery of the constables, 'cause he's been doing a nice little nighttrade between Laurel Grove and Petria carrying one thing and another,but he's willing to do the job on shares."
Lieson yawned noisily.
"Wish we had some grub," he observed. "Guess the training we got atPeabody's will come in handy if we don't eat again till we sell thechickens. Wouldn't you like to have seen the old miser's face when hefound his chickens were gone?"
So, thought Betty, she had not been mistaken; the black rooster was thesame one who had been the pride of Mrs. Peabody's heart.
A burst of harsh laughter from Wapley startled her. Leaning forward,she could see him stretched out on the floor, his head resting on hiscoat, doubled up to form a pillow.
"What do you know!" he gurgled, the tears standing in his eyes. "Didn'tI run into Bob Henderson, of all people!"
Lieson was incredulous.
"You're fooling," he said sullenly. "What would Bob be doing in LaurelGrove? Unless he was playing ferret! I'd wring his neck with pleasureif I thought the old man sent him over to spy."
"Don't worry," counseled Wapley, waving his pipe airily. "The laddoesn't hook us up with the missing biddies. They never knew they werestolen till ten o'clock this morning. The old man sold 'em to Ryerson,and the hen houses stayed shut up till he came to get 'em. Can you beatthat for luck?"
Both men went off into roars of laughter.
"We needn't have spent the night lifting 'em," said Lieson when hecould speak. "I hate to lose my night's rest. What did Bob say aboutit? Was the old man mad?"
"'Bout crazy," admitted Wapley gravely. "Bob wasn't home, but the oldlady told him he carried on somethin' great. Wish we could 'a' heardhim rave. But, Lieson, you haven't got it all. Betty Gordon's run off,and Peabody's doped it out she ran off with the hens!"
The girl in the room above clapped her hand to her mouth. She hadalmost cried out. So Mr. Peabody could accuse her of being a thief! Butwhat were the men saying?
"What would the girl do with hens?" propounded Lieson. "Bob think shestole 'em?"
"Bob's so close-mouthed," growled Wapley. "But I guess he knows whereshe went all right. He says she had nothing to do with the hensdisappearing, and I told him I thought he was right! But Peabodyfigures out she was mad and chased 'em into the woods to spite him. Andhe's hunting for her and his hens with fire in his eye."
Lieson knocked the ashes from his pipe and yawned again.
"Wonder what Peabody's got against her now?" he speculated. "For aboarder, that kid had a pretty pindling time. Well, if we're going tobe bumped around in a truck all night, I'll say we ought to take a napwhile we can get it."
"All right," agreed Wapley. "But I ain't aiming to go on any such tripwithout a bite of supper. The rain's stopped, and I'm going to snooze abit and then go down the road to that farmhouse and see how they feelabout feeding a poor unfortunate who's starving. I'll milk for 'em fora square meal."
Betty, shivering with excitement, crouched on the floor afraid to riskmoving until they should be asleep. Her one thought was to get awayfrom the house and find Bob. Bob would know what to do. Bob wouldget the chickens back to the Peabodys and herself over to the havenof Doctor Guerin's house, somehow. Bob would be sorry for Wapley andLieson even if they had turned chicken thieves. If she could only getto Bob before he set out for home or if she might meet him on the road,everything would be all right, Bob _must_ wait for her.
There were no back stairs to the house, and it required grit to gosoftly down the one flight of stairs and steal past the door of theparlor where the two men lay, but Betty set her teeth and did it. Onceon the porch she put on her hat and sweater, for a cool wind had sprungup; and then how she ran!
The road was muddy, and her skirt was splashed before she slowed downto gain her breath. Anxiously she scanned the road ahead, wondering ifthere was another way Bob could take to reach Bramble Farm. As usualwhen one is worried, a brand-new torment assailed her. Suppose heshould take the road to Glenside, that he might stop in to see her! He,of course, pictured her safe at the doctor's.
"Want a lift?" drawled a lazy, pleasant voice.
A gawky, blue-eyed boy about Bob Henderson's age beamed at her from adilapidated old buggy. The fat, white horse also seemed to regard herbenevolently.
"It's sort of muddy," said the boy diffidently. "If you don't mindthe stuffing on the seat--it's worn through--I can give you a ride toLaurel Grove."
Betty accepted thankfully, but she was not very good company, it mustbe confessed, her thoughts being divided between schemes to hasten thedesultory pace of the fat white horse and wonder as to how she was tofind Bob in the town.
The fat white horse stopped of his own accord at a pleasant lookinghouse on the outskirts of the town, and Betty, in a brown study, wassuddenly conscious that the boy was waiting for her.
"Oh!" she said in some confusion. "Is this your house? Well, you wereever so kind to give me a lift, and I truly thank you!"
She smiled at him and climbed out, and the lad, who had been secretlyadmiring her and wondering what she could be thinking about soabsorbedly, wished for the tenth time that he had a sister.
Laurel Grove was a bustling country town, a bit livelier than Glenside,and Betty, when she had traversed the main street twice, began to beaware that curious glances were being cast at her.
"I'd go shopping, I'd do anything, for an excuse to go into everystore," she thought distractedly, "if only I had a dollar bill! Wherecan Bob be? I can't have missed him!"
There was every reason to think she had missed him, except herdetermined optimism, but after she had been to the drug store and thehardware store and the post-office, all more or less public meetingplaces, and found no sign of Bob, Betty began to feel a triflediscouraged. Then two men on the curb gave her a clue.
"I've been hanging around all day," declared one, evidently a thriftyfarmer. "Came over to get some grinding done, and the blame millmachinery broke. They just started grinding an hour ago."
So there was a mill, and Bob often had to go to mills for Mr. Peabody.Betty did not know why he should have to come so far, but it was quitepossible that some whim of the master of Bramble Farm had sent him tothe Laurel Grove mill. Betty stepped up to the farmer and addressed himquietly.
"Please, will you tell me where the mill is?" she asked.
Betty Gordon at Bramble Farm; Or, The Mystery of a Nobody Page 21