The Rover Boys Megapack

by Edward Stratemeyer

  “Don’t you dare to touch me, Mr. Crabtree!” came loud enough for Dick to hear quite, plainly.

  “I want you to behave yourself, young lady,” stormed Josiah Crabtree.

  “I know how to do that without your advice.”

  “No, you don’t. You have set your mother against me. If it hadn’t been for you, we would be married long ago.”

  “I believe a daughter has a right to advise her mother concerning a stranger, Mr. Crabtree.”

  “A stranger!”

  “Well, an outsider—if you like that better.”

  “I am no outsider. I’ve known your mother for years. I might have married her, instead of your father doing so, if he hadn’t played an underhanded trick which—”

  “Stop, Sir. You shall not say a word against my father.”

  “Good for Dora!” thought Dick. “She’s the right kind.”

  “Your mother is quite willing to marry me, and as a dutiful daughter you should bow to her wishes.”

  “Mother is not herself, Mr. Crabtree. Ever since father died she has been upset by business matters, and you have pestered the life out of her. If you would only go away for a month or so and give her time to think it over, I am sure she would end this matter between you.”

  “Tut, tut, child, you do not know what you are talking about! Your mother has given me her word, and you ought to bow to the inevitable.”

  “She has not yet married you, Sir, and until she is actually bound to you there will still be hope for her.”

  “This is—is outrageous!” cried Josiah Crabtree wrathfully. “Do you think I will allow a mere slip of a girl to stand between me and my plans? Just wait until I am your father—”

  “You shall never take the place of my dear dead father, Mr. Crabtree—never!” and now Dora’s eyes filled with tears. “He was ten thousand times better than you can ever be!”

  “I must admit I can’t see it. He had not half the education I possess,” answered Josiah Crabtree conceitedly.

  “Perhaps not, but he had an honest, warm heart, and that counts for more than a mere book education. I fancy many men are smarter, even in book learning, than Mr. Josiah Crabtree; who tried last week for an opening at Columbia College and failed to meet the requirements.”

  “Ha! who told you that?”

  “Mother told me.”

  “She is foolish to take you into her confidence. It was not my fault that I failed of the opening—merely the pig-headedness of those having the matter in charge. However, I do not care much. As soon as your mother and I are married, I shall make some changes here, put up a fine brick building, and open a rival school to Putnam Hall.”

  “Gracious, here is news!” thought Dick. “Wonder what Captain Putnam will say to that?”

  “Will you?” ejaculated Dora. “And who will give you permission to make alterations here?”

  “Mrs. Crabtree—that is soon to be.”

  “Do you know that she holds this property in a trust for me, Mr. Crabtree? It will be hers only if I die before I become of age. Her own shares of papa’s estate is situated further up the lake, at Berryport.”

  At this announcement Josiah Crabtree started back. “You—you are not telling the truth,” he faltered.

  “I am.”

  “But your mother is the executrix of your father’s will.”

  “Yes.”

  “Exactly. Consequently she has full control of all the property until you are twenty-one.”

  “She has—but certain changes suggested by you or her would be subject to the approval of the court or the surrogate, so I have been told,” answered Dora quietly.

  Josiah Crabtree glared at the girl, and then began to pace the floor impatiently. “Dora, see here,” he said finally. “Let us come to terms.”

  “What terms?”

  “Your mother and I are bound to get married. Remove your opposition to this, and I will promise not to interfere with you in the least. You can do as you please and go where you please, and you shall have all the spending money from time to time that the estate can afford.”

  At this the girl’s lip curled proudly. “I do not thank you for your offer, Mr. Crabtree. The whole difficulty is just here—I do not like you; and my mother shall never marry you so long as I can prevent it.”

  “You—you saucy minx!” he snarled and leaping around the table caught her by the wrist again. “I’ll tame you before I am done with you, mark my words! If you dare to talk to your mother again—Hullo, who is this?”

  “Dick Rover!” cried Dora in amazement and in delight.

  For Dick had suddenly thrown up the window sash, which was unlocked, and leaped straight into the sitting room.

  “Let her go, Josiah Crabtree!” ordered the young cadet. “Don’t you dare to strike her, or I’ll knock you flat!”

  “One of the Rover boys!” muttered the ex-teacher. “What business have you here at this hour of the evening? Have you run away from the Hall?”

  “Since you have been discharged, I do not feel called upon to answer your question,” answered Dick. “But you must let Dora alone, or there will be a broken head around here, I can tell you that!”

  At Dick’s plain words Josiah Crabtree greatly paled. He had dropped the girl’s wrist and now he fell back several steps.

  “I was not harming the girl, only trying to reason with her.”

  “Oh, I know you well enough. I’ve heard you were the most pigheaded teacher they ever had at Putnam Hall,” rejoined Dick warmly. “I shall take pains to let Mrs. Stanhope know what they think of you, too.”

  “Was he discharged?” asked Dora. “He told mamma that he had left of his own accord.”

  “He was discharged,” answered Dick, who had got word through Peleg Snuggers.

  “It is not true!” stormed Josiah Crabtree. “This is a—a plot to injure me in the eyes of Mrs. Stanhope, and you shall pay dearly for it, boy!” and he shook his fist in Dick’s face.

  “Don’t do that again, Mr. Crabtree, or we may have a set-to right here—begging Dora’s pardon,” answered Dick, his eyes flashing fire.

  “That’s all right—don’t give in an inch to him, Dick,” whispered Dora. “I hate him—oh, more than words can tell!” and she caught the youth’s arm.

  “I am not afraid of you, boy!” was the short return, but now the ex-teacher turned to the hallway. “I was on the point of leaving, and now I will go, Dora. But I will be back in a day or two,” and he strode from the room. A moment later he had secured his hat and overcoat and taken his departure.

  “Oh, what a dreadful man!” sobbed Dora, when he was gone. “Dick Rover, what shall I do?” and she looked at him pleadingly.

  “It’s a puzzle to me, Dora—worse than an example in cube root in algebra!” He smiled sadly. “But if I was you I’d hold out and never let him marry my mother.”

  “Oh, I will never consent to that—never! But he may marry her anyway.”

  “If he does, you can apply to the courts for another guardian—if Crabtree doesn’t treat you fairly.”

  “But I do not wish to separate from my mother.”

  “Well, the only thing to do is to keep fighting him off. In the meantime I’ll try to get some folks who know Crabtree well to tell your mother just what a mean, crabbed fellow he is. Undoubtedly he is after the money your father left.”

  “So I always supposed—but mother does not think so.”

  “How is your mother?”

  “She is doing nicely, and may be out in a week or two. I am keeping her in as long as possible, so that Josiah Crabtree cannot argue her into going off and getting married.”

  “You certainly have your hands full, Dora,” answered the young cadet. “I wish I could take this burden off your shoulders, indeed I do!” and impulsively he caught up her plump, hand and kissed
it.

  “Oh!” She snatched the hand away and blushed prettily, but was not angry. “I—I—; it’s something to know one has a friend, Dick,” she said softly. “Can I come to you if I—that is if I want something done?”

  “To be sure, Dora—I’ll do anything in the wide world for you there!” and he kissed her hand again.

  At that moment an elderly lady who had been hired to wait on Mrs. Stanhope came in, and the conversation was changed. Dora asked about life at the Hall, and Dick told of the football game and of the parts Tom and Sam had played in it.

  “You are a great set of boys!” Dora smiled.

  “I wish I had a couple of sisters.”

  “You have your two cousins, Nellie and Grace.”

  “Yes, but they are not as intimate as sisters would be—although they are the best of cousins.”

  “What does Mr. Laning say of Crabtree?” Dick whispered, as the nurse left the room for a moment.

  “Uncle does not like him, but he says the whole matter is none of his affair—and mother must do as she thinks best.”

  It was now growing late, and Dick took his departure, kissing Dora’s hand a third time as they stood in the darkness of the porch. “You’re terrible!” she murmured, but it is doubtful if she meant anything by it. Girls and boys are about the same the world over and Dick’s regard for Dora was of the manly sort that is creditable to anybody.

  CHAPTER XVIII

  WINTER SPORTS

  “Hurrah, boys, the ice is forming just as fast as it can! We’ll have skating in twenty-four hours!”

  It was Sam who came rushing into the gymnasium with the news. The place was crowded at the time, for it was too cold to play on the grounds outside.

  “Skating!” cried Tom. “That just suits me. I wonder if I brought my skates along?”

  “You didn’t,” answered Sam. “Neither did I.”

  “I have my skates,” said Fred Garrison. “Brand new pair.”

  “My skates were old,” said Tom. “I must strike Captain Putnam for a couple of dollars of my allowance and buy a new pair.”

  “So must I!” put in Sam. “Dick, I know, has his skates.”

  It was early in December, and it had been growing colder steadily. There had been one fall of snow, but it had amounted to but little.

  The next day skating in the cove of the lake near Putnam Hall was excellent, the ice being from three to four inches thick. At once Sam and Tom went to Captain Putnam.

  “Want to buy some skates?” said the captain. “Well, the money I am keeping is your own, and I presume every boy likes to skate. Here are two dollars for each of you. Show me your purchases when you get back.”

  “We will,” replied the lads, and hurried off, for time was precious, with the smooth ice waiting for them. They knew that a certain hardware dealer in Cedarville had a good quantity of skates on hand, and started to walk to the village without delay.

  “Baxter is going to buy a pair of skates, too,” said Sam, on the way. “I heard him telling Mumps about it.”

  “Well, we don’t want Baxter for company,” answered Tom. “He can go alone.”

  It did not take the lads long to reach Cedarville, but once at the hardware store considerable time was lost in getting just the skates desired.

  “It’s queer Baxter hasn’t shown up,” said Tom, when they were ready to leave.

  “Perhaps he went elsewhere for his skates,” suggested Sam.

  The hardware shop was at the end of the village street, and as they passed a number of places of business Tom suddenly caught his brother by the arm.

  “There is Baxter now—just entering that tavern!” he exclaimed in a low voice.

  “The tavern!” repeated Sam. “Why, it’s against the regulations to enter a drinking place!”

  “I don’t care—I saw Baxter go in,” returned Tom. “He was with a tall man.”

  “If Captain Putnam hears of this, Baxter will be sent away, or at least punished.”

  “Perhaps, Sam; but I shan’t tell him.”

  “No; we’re no tale-bearers. Let us go up to the side windows of the tavern and see if we can see them.”

  This was agreed to, and the two boys hurried up to first one window and then another.

  “They are not in the saloon part, that’s certain,” said Tom blankly. “But I saw Baxter go in, and the tall man with him.”

  “Here is a side room,” answered Sam.

  “And there they are, at a corner table. The man is giving Baxter some money!”

  Tom peeped into the window over his brother’s shoulder. “My gracious!”

  “What’s up now, Tom?”

  “That tall man is the same fellow I met in the woods. The man that was with the tramp who stole the watch!”

  “You don’t mean it!”

  “But I do! See the scar on his chin?”

  “Yes.”

  “He is that thief’s pal, as they call it.”

  “And he just gave Baxter some bank bills! What does it mean?”

  “I give it up. But I know one thing—that man ought to be arrested!”

  “That’s true. Oh! they have seen us! If they—hi! what do you mean by that?”

  For a burly bartender had suddenly come up behind both of the boys and hurled them backward.

  “No spying around this place!” cried the dispenser of liquors roughly. “Take yourselves off!”

  “There is a man inside I want to see,” said Tom.

  “Why don’t you come in, then?”

  “I will—as soon as I can find a policeman or a constable.”

  “What! going to have a gent arrested?”

  “The man inside knows all about a stolen watch.”

  “You must be mistaken.”

  “No, I am not. Where can I find a policeman?”

  “Down at the steamboat landing, most likely.”

  “All right. Sam, you stay here and see that that fellow don’t make tracks,” and Tom prepared to move away.

  “See here, we don’t want any trouble in our place,” said the barkeeper. “We run a respectable house, we do.”

  “Then you ought to help me bag the pal of a thief,” retorted Tom.

  “Hold on, Tom!” came from Sam. “They’re gone! They slipped through a back door!”

  Tom ran up to the window again. It was true Baxter and the man with a scar had disappeared.

  “Come on back!” he cried to his brother, and both ran to the rear of the tavern. Here there was a yard, at the end of which stood a barn and a long, low carriage shed. Only a negro hostler was in sight.

  “Perhaps they haven’t come out yet,” began Sam, when he caught sight of a buggy on a road behind the barn. It was going at a furious rate, the scarred man driving, and lashing his mettlesome horse at the same time.

  “There goes the man!”

  “That’s so. Where is Baxter?”

  “I don’t know.”

  They ran after the buggy, but soon gave up the chase, as man and turnout disappeared around a bend leading to the woods back of Cedarville.

  “We’ve lost him!” murmured Tom, when he could get back his breath. “Now who in the name of Old Nick can he be?”

  “Evidently a friend to Baxter. Perhaps he is Baxter’s father?” suggested Sam.

  “Baxter’s father—Gracious! He is!”

  “How do you know?”

  “I’m not positive, but when I met him and the thief in the woods, the thief, who was called Buddy, started to call that fellow Baxter, but the tall man wouldn’t have it, and made him call him Nolly. His right name, I feel certain, is Arnold Baxter.”

  “Then, if he isn’t Baxter’s father, he must be some close relative, otherwise he wouldn’t give Baxter that money. Now it is easy to see where the bully gets
all of his cash. That tall man must be rich.”

  “Yes, but who knows how he comes by his money? He is the chum of a thief, that’s certain.”

  A search was made for Dan Baxter, but he could not be found. As a matter of fact, he had been in the buggy, hiding under the seat. The boys hung around for quarter of an hour longer, and then resolved to return to Putnam Hall.

  “No use of making a row about it,” said Tom. “I remember that policeman at the steamboat landing. He is a terribly fat fellow and evidently a hard drinker. He couldn’t help us enough. We had better try to work this out on our own account. I’ll tackle Baxter the first chance I get.”

  When the Hall was reached they looked around for the bully, but found he had not returned. They had now to go in for their studies, and for the time being the affair was dropped.

  That afternoon found them on the lake, and while enjoying the skating Dick was informed of what had occurred. “A bad crowd,” said the elder Rover. “Yes, tackle Baxter, by all means. But be cautious what you say, for you can’t prove much, remember.”

  A race had been arranged between the boys, and Dick was one of the contestants. The distance was from one end of the cove to the other was a little over three-quarters of a mile. There were ten starters, including Fred, Frank, Larry, and Mumps. Mumps had a reputation as a skater, gained at his home on the Hudson River.

  “All ready?” shouted the starter.

  There was a dead silence.

  “Go!” came the word, and away went the ten, their skates flashing brightly in the setting sun. Soon Larry Colby was in advance, with Mumps just over his shoulder.

  “It is Larry’s race!”

  “Mumps is a close second!”

  “Shake ‘em up, Fred! What are you lagging about, Frank? Go it, Leo!”

  Skirk skirk skirk went the skate runners, and now a crowd of lads started in pursuit of the racers. Soon the turning point was gained. Larry was in advance still, but now Mumps overtook him, and suddenly the boy from the Hudson who had such a reputation as a racer shot fifteen feet in advance. It looked as if the race was certainly his, and Larry and the others felt much downcast.

  CHAPTER XIX

  THE SKATING RACE—DAN BAXTER IS CORNERED

  The wind had been with the racers thus far, but as one after another of the skaters turned the mark they found the wind now full in their faces, and it was blowing freshly.