The Rover Boys Megapack

by Edward Stratemeyer

  “So do I.”

  And thus it was decided that they should return to the academy four days later.

  But during those four days something was to happen which would have an important bearing upon their future actions.

  CHAPTER III

  A MIDNIGHT VISITOR

  The next day, shortly after noon, it began to rain, and the storm increased in violence until the wind blew almost a gale.

  The rain kept the boys indoors, at which Tom was inclined to grumble.

  “No use of grumbling, Tom,” said Dick cheerfully. “Let us improve the time by looking over our school books. That will make it easier to slip into the grind again when we get back to the Hall.”

  “That is excellent advice, Richard,” said Randolph Rover. “Whatever you do, do not neglect your studies.”

  “By the way, Uncle Randolph, how is scientific farming progressing?” said Tom, referring to something that had been his uncle’s hobby for years—a hobby that had cost the gentleman considerable money.

  “Well—ah—to tell the truth, Thomas, not as well as I had hoped for.”

  “Hope you didn’t drop a thousand or two this year, uncle?”

  “Oh, no—not over fifty dollars.”

  “Then you got off easy.”

  “I shall do better next year. The potatoes already show signs of improvement.”

  “Good! I suppose you’ll be growing ‘em on top of the ground soon. Then you won’t have the bother of digging ‘em, you know,” went on the fun-loving boy innocently.

  “Absurd, Thomas! But I shall have some very large varieties, I feel certain.”

  “Big as a watermelon?”

  “Hardly, but—”

  “Big as a muskmelon, then?”

  “Not exactly, but—”

  “About the size of a cocoanut, eh?”

  “No! no! They will be as large as—”

  “I mean a little cocoanut,” pleaded Tom, while Sam felt like laughing outright.

  “Well, yes, a little cocoanut. You see—”

  “We saw some big potatoes in California, Uncle Randolph.”

  “Ah! Of what variety?”

  “Cornus bustabus, or something like that. Sam, what was the name, do you know?”

  “That must be something like it, Tom,” grinned the youngest Rover.

  “Took two men to lift some of those potatoes,” went on Tom calmly.

  “Two men? Thomas, surely you are joking.”

  “No, uncle, I am telling nothing but the strict truth.”

  “But two men! The potatoes must have been of monstrous size!”

  “Oh, not so very big. But they did weigh a good deal, no question of it.”

  “Think of two men lifting one potato!”

  “I didn’t say one potato, Uncle Randolph. I said some of those potatoes.”

  “Eh?”

  “The men had a barrel full of ‘em.”

  “Thomas!” The uncle shook his finger threateningly. “At your old tricks, I see. I might have known it.” And then he stalked off to hide his chagrin.

  “Tom, that was rather rough on Uncle Randolph,” said Sam, after a laugh.

  “So it was, Sam. But I’ve got to do something. This being boxed up, when one might be fishing or swimming, or playing baseball, is simply dreadful,” answered the other.

  Just before the evening meal was announced Jack Ness came up from the barn, and sought out Randolph Rover.

  “Found a man slinking around the cow-shed a while ago,” he said. “He looked like a tramp. I wanted to talk to him, but he scooted in double-quick order.”

  “Humph! We haven’t had any tramps here in a long time,” came from Randolph Rover. “Where did he go to?”

  “Down toward the berry patch.”

  “Did you follow him up?”

  “I did, sir, but he got away from me.”

  “You must keep a close watch for those fellows,” said Randolph Rover bluntly. “I don’t want any of them getting in our barn and burning it down to the ground.”

  “You are right, Randolph,” said Anderson Rover. “Make them keep away from the place by all means, Jack.”

  “I’ll keep my eye peeled for ‘em,” answered the hired man.

  The wind was now blowing a gale, causing the trees near the farmhouse to creak and groan, and banging more than one shutter. But the boys did not mind this, and went to bed promptly at the usual hour.

  “A storm like this on land is nothing to one on the sea,” was the way Tom expressed himself. “I don’t like anything better than to listen to the whistling of the wind when I am snug in bed.”

  For the time being Sam and Tom were occupying a room in the L of the farmhouse, and Dick had a small bedchamber adjoining. The boys were soon undressed, and, having said their prayers, hopped into bed, and were soon sound asleep.

  It was not until half an hour later that the older folks retired. Anderson Rover was the last to leave the sitting room, where he had been busy writing some letters at the desk that stood there.

  As he was about to retire he fancied he heard a noise outside of one of the windows. He drew up the curtain and looked through the glass, but could see nothing.

  “It must have been the wind,” he murmured. “But, somehow, it didn’t sound like it.”

  As he stepped into the dark hallway an uneasy feeling took possession of him—a feeling hard to define, and one for which he could not account.

  “I think I had better go around and see that all the doors and windows are properly locked,” he told himself. “Brother Randolph may have overlooked one of them.”

  He walked the length of the hallway, and stepped into the kitchen and over to a side window.

  As he had his hand on the window-latch he heard a quick step directly behind him.

  He started to turn, but before he could do so he received a blow on the head from a club that staggered him. Then he was jerked backward to the floor.

  “Silence!” muttered a voice close to his ear. “Don’t you dare to make a sound!”

  “What does this mean—” he managed to gasp.

  “Silence, I tell you!” was the short answer. “If you say another word, I will hit you again!”

  Having no desire to receive a blow that might render him totally unconscious, or, perhaps, take his life, Anderson Rover said no more. He heard a match struck, and then a bit of a tallow candle was lit and placed on the edge of the kitchen table.

  By this dim light the father of the Rover boys saw standing over him a tall man, beardless, and with his head closely cropped. One glance into that hardened face sufficed to tell him who the unwelcome visitor was.

  “Arnold Baxter!”

  “I see you recognize me,” was the harsh reply. “Not so loud, please, unless you want that crack I promised you.”

  “What brings you here, and at such an hour as this?”

  “I find it more convenient to travel during the night than in the daytime.”

  “The police are on your track.”

  “I know that as well you, Rover.”

  “What do you want here?”

  “What does any man want when he has been stripped of all his belongings? I want money.”

  “I have none for you.”

  “Bosh! Do you think I have forgotten how you and your boys swindled me out of my rights to that mine in the far West?”

  “We did not swindle you, Baxter. The claim was lawfully mine.”

  “I can’t stop to argue the question, and I don’t want you to talk so loud, remember that. No, don’t try to get up,” went on the midnight visitor, as Anderson Rover attempted to rise. “Stay just where you are.”

  He was feeling in his pocket, and now he brought forth a strip of cloth, with a knot tied in the middle.


  It was a gag, and he started to place it in Anderson Rover’s mouth, when the latter leaped up and began to struggle with all the force he could command.

  “Stop, I tell you!” cried Arnold Baxter softly.

  “Stop!” And then, catching up his club once more, he dealt Anderson Rover another blow, this time directly across the temple. The gentleman wavered for an instant, gave a deep groan, and fell like a log to the floor.

  CHAPTER IV

  A USELESS PURSUIT

  Half an hour later Tom awoke with a start. For the moment he could not tell what had aroused him. Then he remembered hearing the slam of a door or a window sash.

  “Must have been the storm,” he told himself, and was about to turn over and go to sleep when he heard a gun-shot from the direction of the barn.

  “Something is wrong, that’s certain!” he cried. “Sam, wake up!”

  “What’s the row, Tom?” questioned the youngest brother sleepily.

  Before Tom could reply they heard Dick getting up, and also their Uncle Randolph and Aunt Martha.

  “What did that shot mean?” demanded Randolph Rover, coming toward the boys’ rooms. “Did any of you fire it?”

  “No, it came from outside,” returned Torn. “Hark!”

  “Hullo, in the house!” came in the voice of Jack Ness. “Wake up, everybody! Something is wrong!”

  After this it did not take long for those upstairs to slip into some clothing, and go below. Randolph Rover ran to the side door, to find it wide open. Dick lit the hall lamp.

  “Saw a man running across the garden,” said Jack Ness, who had his shot-gun with him. “I yelled to him to stop, and then fired the gun. I think he came from the house.”

  “How did you happen to be up?” asked Sam.

  “One of the horses is sick, and I was attending to him.”

  By this time some of the others were looking into the various rooms.

  “The desk has been broken open!” cried Dick. “And the pantry in the corner, too!”

  “Mercy, save us!” shrieked Mrs. Rover, from the kitchen. “Come here at once. Poor Anderson has been killed!”

  “Killed!” gasped Tom; and then all ran to the kitchen as quickly as they could.

  They found Anderson Rover lying where he had fallen, and still unconscious. There was a lump on his forehead, and a thin stream of blood trickled down one side of his face.

  “Thank heaven, he is not dead!” murmured Dick, as he knelt beside his father. “But he has been struck some cruel blows. Somebody fetch water and a bandage.”

  The water was procured, and also a bandage, and under skillful treatment, Anderson Rover was presently restored to consciousness.

  “Where—where is he?” he questioned, when he could speak.

  “Do you mean the person who struck you down?” asked Dick.

  “Ye—yes.”

  “I don’t know. Got away, I guess.”

  “The villain! He attacked me most foully!”

  “I saw him running across the garden,” put in the hired man. “Did he steal anything?”

  “To be sure he stole something,” said Sam. “He ransacked the whole lower floor, by the looks of things.”

  “Wonder who it was?” put in Tom.

  “It was Arnold Baxter,” answered his father.

  “Arnold Baxter!” cried the others in chorus.

  “Are you certain?” asked Dick.

  “Yes. He struck me down, and then lit the bit of tallow candle you see lying there. Then we struggled, and he hit me again, and that is all I know. But I am sure it was Baxter, for I spoke to him. He accused us of having robbed him of that mine out West.”

  “Was he alone?” asked Randolph Rover.

  “I saw no one else.”

  “We ought to follow him up,” declared Tom, now that he realized his father was not so badly hurt as at first feared.

  “That’s the talk!” ejaculated Dick. “Wait till I get my pistol.”

  “Boys, do keep out of harm,” pleaded Mrs. Rover. “Remember that this Arnold Baxter is a desperate criminal.”

  “We are not afraid of him,” answered Tom.

  “We’ll show him that he can’t come here and attack father,” added Sam.

  Leaving their father in the care of their Aunt Martha, the three Rover boys armed themselves and sallied forth, accompanied by their uncle and Alexander Pop, the latter carrying a horse-pistol of the old-fashioned variety.

  “Dat dar Baxter am a rascal of de fust water,” was Aleck’s comment. “He deserbes to be shot full ob holes, an’ I am de boy to do dat same, if only I gets de chance.”

  Jack Ness was closely questioned, and he described the spot where he had last seen the unwelcome midnight visitor.

  “He had a bag of something over his shoulder,” he declared.

  “Most likely the stuff taken from the house,” declared Dick.

  The party crossed the garden patch and then took to the path which ran down toward the river.

  Here all was intensely dark, although it had stopped raining, and the wind was trying its best to scatter the heavy clouds that obscured the stars.

  “Not a thing to see,” observed Randolph Rover. “We may as well go back.”

  “Let us scatter and make a search,” came from Dick, and his idea was carried out. But though they tramped the locality for a good half hour the pursuit of Arnold Baxter proved useless.

  “He is probably making good use of his time,” was Tom’s comment. “He knew we would be after him hot-footed, just as soon as we heard of his being here.”

  “I’m going to drive over to the railroad station,” said Dick. “He may hang around and get aboard of the first morning train.”

  “Take me along with you,” said Sam, and Dick agreed. They got Aleck to drive them and took the fastest team the stable afforded.

  But at the depot all was dark and deserted, and if Arnold Baxter was anywhere near he took good care not to show himself, nor was anything seen of him in Oak Run later on.

  “He has left the neighborhood by some other way,” said Randolph Rover, and his surmise was correct.

  When the boys reached home again they found their parent sitting up in an easy-chair, with his forehead still bandaged. The blows he had received were painful, but by no means serious, and when the doctor was called in he said the patient would speedily recover.

  “But you had a narrow escape,” said the doctor. “Had you been struck a little harder your skull might have been broken.”

  “Well, I don’t think Arnold Baxter would have cared if he had broken my skull,” answered Anderson Rover. “He is a thoroughly bad man.”

  It was broad daylight before a complete examination of the house was made, and then it was learned that Baxter had run away with some silver knives, forks, and spoons, some gold napkin rings, a silver and gold water pitcher, and half a dozen similar articles. From the desk he had taken a pocketbook containing three hundred dollars in cash, and from Anderson Rover’s person his watch and chain, and a diamond stud. He had also tried to rob the unconscious man of his diamond ring, but as the ring would not come off had pried out the stone and taken that.

  “He is at his old tricks again,” said Dick. “Evidently his term in prison has done him no good.”

  “Guess it has made him worse,” added Sam. “Oh, how I would like to lay my hands on him!” And Tom said the same.

  The authorities were notified, including the sheriff of the county, and later still Anderson Rover hired a New York detective to take up the case. But it was of no avail. Arnold Baxter did not show himself, and not a trace of him was to be found anywhere.

  “I shouldn’t be surprised if he disguised himself as soon as he got away from here,” remarked Tom. “He could easily put on a false mustache, and a wig would fit capit
ally over that almost bald pate of his.”

  “But where would he get the mustache and wig, Tom?” asked Dick.

  “He may have bought them before he came here. I have heard that some robbers prepare themselves for all sorts of emergencies. Only last week I was reading about a fellow who went to a ball, and between the dances went out and robbed a gentleman on the street of his watch. When he was arrested, he tried to prove that he hadn’t been outside of the ballroom all night, and it was by the merest accident that the authorities found out his story wasn’t true.”

  “Tom is right; some criminals are very shrewd,” said his father. “And I fancy Arnold Baxter is about as slick as any of them.”

  “Well, I hope we run across him some day,” said Dick.

  With so much to occupy their minds the days flew by swiftly, and almost before they knew it Monday was at hand, and the three boys set out to return once more to Putnam Hall.

  CHAPTER V

  ON THE WAY TO PUTNAM HALL

  The idea of going back to dear old Putnam Hall, with all of its pleasant memories, filled Tom with good humor, and he was fairly bubbling over on the train which carried the boys to Ithaca, where they were to take a steamer up Cayuga Lake to Cedarville, the nearest village to the academy.

  “Makes me feel as I did the first time we went to the Hall,” he declared. “Don’t you remember that trip, and the fun we had with Peleg Snuggers, the wagon man?” and then he burst out singing:

  “Putnam Hall’s the place for me!

  Tra-la-lee! Tra-la-lee!

  Putnam Hall’s the place for me!

  The best old school I know!”

  “You’ll have the conductor putting you off, the next thing you know,” remarked Sam.

  “Putting me off? Never!” cried Tom. “He knows that academy boys own privileges that other passengers do not possess. He can’t cork me up. I defy him!”

  “Wonder if we’ll meet any of the other fellows,” mused Dick.

  He had hardly spoken when the train stopped at a junction, and two other lads got aboard and came down the aisle. One was tall and handsome, and the other stout and with a round, chubby face beaming with good humor.

  “Larry Colby!” cried Dick, leaping up and grasping the tall boy’s hand. “I’m awfully glad to meet you. Returning to the Hall, of course?”