“Do you think we’ll get any clew to Merrick and Tad Sobber?” asked Dick, with a faint smile.
“Possibly,” answered Captain Putnam, smiling back. “You Rovers are great chaps for finding out things.”
The sloop was provided with a tiny cuddy, or cabin, and in this the boys placed a small stock of provisions and also a shotgun and some fishing lines. They left the Hall after breakfast and were glad of the promise of a warm day, with the breeze in just the right direction.
“You fellows will have to tell me where to steer the sloop to,” said Larry, after the mainsail had been run up. “I don’t know where that old house is.”
“We have a general idea where it is,” answered Dick. “Of course we may have some trouble finding it. But if we get mixed up, we can go ashore and ask the folks living in that vicinity.”
The distance to be covered along the lake shore was in the neighborhood of twelve miles, so the boys had quite a sail before them. They took turns at steering, and said they liked the sloop very much.
About four miles had been covered when the breeze began to die away. This was exasperating, but could not be helped, so the boys made the best of it. As the sloop drifted along they got out some fishing tackle, and it was not long before Sam brought up a fair-sized fish, of which he felt quite proud.
“At this rate it will take us till night to reach that old house,” remarked Dick, after they had been fishing half an hour. “It is too bad! I thought we’d get there by noon when we started, even if the breeze did go down.”
“Oh, I think the breeze will start up again before long,” said Tom hopefully. “Let us enjoy this fishing while we have the chance,” he added, having just pulled in a real piscatorial prize.
By noon they had a good mess of fish to their credit, and then Sam proposed that they go ashore and build a fire and cook some for dinner.
“There is no use of mourning over the wind,” said he.
“If it wasn’t for the sloop we might tramp to the old house,” returned Dick.
“I shouldn’t wish to leave my boat just anywhere,” said Larry. “Somebody might run off with her,—and she cost quite some money.”
“You might leave her in care of some farmer along here,” suggested Songbird, and then he added softly:
“For what is a boat without a breeze?
It’s like a forest minus its trees.
It’s like a table without a leg,—”
“Or a big blue top without its peg!”
finished Tom. “But I move we camp and cook fish,” he continued. “We can have a dandy meal, along with the stuff we brought along.”
The idea of going ashore prevailed, and soon they had tied up the sloop and lowered the mainsail. Brushwood was handy, and having started a fire they cleaned some of the fish and set it to broiling. They had a pot along in which they made coffee, and they also brought out some bread and crackers, cake, and some fruit. They had some meat with them, but left that for possible future use.
The cadets took their time over the meal, and it was not until two o’clock that they again boarded the Polly, as Larry had named his craft.
“I think the breeze is coming again,” cried Dick, holding up his hand.
“Let it come!” was the cry, and as the wind freshened all felt much better. Soon the Polly was bowling over the lake as speedily as when they had first started.
“Do you know what I think?” said Songbird, who stood at the stern looking toward the distant hills. “I think we are going to have more wind than we’ll want before night.”
“Do you think a big blow is coming?” questioned Fred.
“It looks that way to me. Do you see those dark clouds just beginning to show themselves yonder?”
“Well, I shan’t mind a little blow,” said Dick. “In fact, I think I’d rather like the excitement.” And the others said the same.
They were still about two miles from the spot where they supposed the old house was located, when it suddenly grew darker and the breeze freshened greatly. Then came a puff of air that sent the Polly far over on her side.
“Hi! this won’t do!” cried Fred, in alarm. “We don’t want to upset!”
“Maybe we had better take in some sail,” added Songbird nervously.
He had scarcely spoken when there came another puff of wind that made all cling fast to the deck to keep from being pitched overboard. The sky was now very dark, and there were a few flakes of snow in the air.
“It’s a spring snowsquall, that’s what it is,” announced Dick. “I don’t think it will last over ten or fifteen minutes.”
“It’s too much for the Polly,” came from Larry. “Put down the mainsail, will you?”
Several sprang to do as requested, and hardly had the sheet been lowered and stowed away when there came a fierce gust that drove them well in shore.
“There is a cove—we can go in there for shelter!” cried Sam, and the sloop was steered accordingly. The cove was well protected by trees and they came to anchor at a spot that looked particularly inviting.
The boys were afraid it would rain, and wondered what they would do to keep from getting wet, since the cuddy on the sloop was too small to hold more than two or three of the party. But no rain came, and soon the flurry of snow disappeared. The wind, however, instead of letting up, blew harder than ever.
“I am glad we are not out in the middle of the lake,” observed Fred. “We’d be capsized sure!”
“This is certainly getting to be a regular gale,” answered Dick. “And the worst of it is, there is no telling how long it is going to last.”
There was nothing to do but to wait, and in order to keep warm the cadets put up a bit of sailcloth on the deck of the sloop and taking in the cuddy. There they crouched, and told stories and talked for over an hour.
“I move we go on,” said Tom, at last. “The wind isn’t quite as strong as it was.”
Although doubtful of the wisdom of the proceedings, the others voted to proceed and they poled their way out of the cove. Only the jib of the Polly was hoisted and this sent them bowling along at a fair rate of speed.
Dick stood in the bow and at last called upon Larry to turn the sloop toward shore.
“I think we must be in the neighborhood of that house now,” he said. “And just ahead is a fine cove where the sloop will be as well sheltered as it was at the other cove.”
Accordingly Larry turned the Polly in, and the other lads lowered the sail. They came to anchor between a number of tall trees, where the sloop was almost screened from sight.
Having made certain the boat could not drift away, the six boys, led by Dick, made their way along the shore until they struck something of a path. Coming to a slight rise, Dick pointed with his hand.
“Isn’t that a house, on the other side of the hill?” he asked.
“Yes!” cried Tom. “And by the appearance of it I should say it’s the place we are looking for!”
CHAPTER XXVIII
AT THE OLD HOUSE
The Rover boys and their chums approached the old house with a good deal of interest. Dick led the way, setting a pace that made it hard for the others to keep up.
“Don’t hurry so, Dick,” remonstrated Fred. “The house isn’t going to run away.”
“Dick wants to make sure if that Merrick is around,” responded Songbird. “And I can’t blame him.”
The old Sobber homestead was surrounded by a grove of trees equally aged. One of the trees had blown down, taking a corner of the roof with it. Through this opening the birds flitted.
“I don’t believe a soul is around,” observed Tom, as they halted in front of the building.
“Nothing like ringing the bell!” cried Sam, and mounting the dilapidated piazza he raised the ancient knocker of the door and used it vigorously. Then came a crash and the youn
gest Rover felt the piazza bottom give way.
“Look out, a post is coming down!” cried Dick, warningly, and Sam had just time enough to leap away when the corner post of the piazza fell, allowing the roof above to sag several inches.
“Looks to me as if the whole building was on the verge of collapse,” was Songbird’s comment.
“Yes, and I don’t know whether I want to go in or not,” added Larry.
“It certainly does look shaky,” admitted Dick. “I don’t think anybody would risk staying in it long.”
Leaving the front, they walked around the old house and gazed through several of the broken-out windows. Inside all was dirt and cobwebs, with a few pieces of broken-down furniture scattered about. As he looked in one window Tom saw a big rat scurry across the floor.
“I guess rats are the only tenants,” he said dryly. “And they don’t pay rent.”
“With a few birds on the top floor, front,” added Sam. “Well, do we go in or not?”
“I am going in,” declared Dick, and pushed open the old kitchen door. It was damp and mouldy in the apartment, for the rain had soaked loose much of the plaster and caused it to fall.
The big open fireplace looked grimy and forbidding with its iron bars and chains. An iron kettle stood on the chimney-piece, a crack across the bottom.
“Somebody has had a fire here not so very long ago!” said Dick, and picked up a bit of half-burnt newspaper. He turned it over. “Here is a date. This newspaper is only four days old!”
“Then whoever made a fire here visited this house within the past four days,” said Larry in a tragic whisper.
“Whoop! just listen to what a detective Larry is becoming!” cried Tom. “Regular Bowery Bob, the Newsboy Sleuth!”
“Perhaps it was only some curiosity seeker who came here,” suggested Fred.
With caution, for the floors were very rotten, the cadets moved from one room of the old house to another.
“Anything in there?” asked Tom of Sam, as the latter peered into a room that was extra dark.
“I can’t make out,” was the answer, and Sam took a step forward. Then of a sudden there was a strange whirring, and something hit the youngest Rover boy on the ear, causing him to fall back in fright.
“Stop that!” he cried.
“What was it?” queried Tom, while the others came running to the spot.
“Something hit me on the ear!”
“Anybody in there?”
“There must be.”
“Come out of that, whoever you are!” yelled Fred, while Dick pointed his shotgun at the door.
There was no answer, but a second later came the whirring again, and then a big bat flew into the light, just grazing Tom’s face.
“A bat!”
“Let it go!” said Songbird, and then the bat flew out of a window and disappeared.
“Oh!” murmured Sam, and breathed a sigh of relief. “I—I thought somebody struck at me!”
“I’ve got one of those electric pocket lights along,” said Tom. “Let me use that.”
He turned on the little electric lamp, and by its rays they inspected the apartment. It was a bedroom, and in one corner was an old bedstead and on it a musty straw mattress. In another corner was a closet containing several shelves.
“Here is an old inkwell,” said Dick, and brought it forth. “And here are the remains of a box of writing paper and envelopes.”
“Any letters?” asked Fred.
They looked around, but at first could find no writings of any kind. But behind one of the shelves, in a crack, they discovered several sheets of paper and took these to the light to read.
“They are parts of letters from Mr. Sobber to his wife,” said Dick. “They must have been written by Tad’s father.”
“He speaks here of Merrick,” added Tom, who was scanning a blurred page. “Merrick is Mrs. Sobber’s brother beyond a doubt.”
“From these letters I should say Mr. Sobber had been off on a sea trip,” continued the eldest Rover boy. “And it looks to me as if he had been an honest man, for he tells his wife that he hopes Merrick will give up his gambling habits.”
From the bedroom the boys entered what had been the parlor of the house. This was almost bare. To one side of the parlor was an entry-way, and here was a stairs leading to the second story and another leading to the cellar.
“Well, shall we go up or down?” queried Dick.
“Let us see what the cellar looks like first,” answered Sam. “Perhaps we’ll find a pot of gold there.”
“Or a few skeletons,” put in Tom.
“Ugh! don’t say skeletons,” cried Songbird, with a shiver. “I’ve got the creeps already!”
“Look out that you don’t break your neck on the stairs,” warned Larry, and then Dick led the way down, holding the light before him.
If it was damp above it was far more so below, and the boys shivered in spite of themselves. The cellar had only a mud bottom and this was covered with slime and mold. There was little there to interest them outside of an old chest which, when they pried it open, proved to be empty.
“Listen!” cried Tom, suddenly, and held up his hand.
“What did you hear?” demanded several of the others.
“I thought I heard somebody walking around upstairs. There it is again!”
All gave attention, and heard the unmistakable sounds of footsteps on the stairs leading to the second story.
“Who is up there?” called out Dick, and turned to leave the cellar, followed by his brothers and chums.
“Stay where you are!” came back in a harsh voice. “Don’t any of you dare to come out of that cellar!”
“It is Merrick!” burst out Tom.
Hardly had he spoken when they heard a door shut sharply and a bolt dropped into place. Then the footsteps retreated.
“He has shut the door to the cellar!” cried Dick, flashing the light upward. “We are locked in!”
“Hark! I heard more than one person running from the house,” said Larry.
“That Pike must be with him.”
“Or else Tad Sobber.”
As quickly as he could, Dick ran up the old stairs and tried the door. It was in fairly good condition and refused to budge.
“Smash it down!” called out Tom, and went to his brother’s assistance.
“We must get out and collar those rascals,” said Sam. “Can’t you get the door open?”
“We ought to be able to,” answered Dick. “Here, catch the light and take the gun.”
In a few seconds Dick, Tom and Songbird were pressing on the door with all their strength. All stood on the top step of the cellar stairs.
“Now then, all together!” cried Dick, and they shoved with might and main. Then came a crack below them, and an instant later the cellar stairs collapsed, carrying them with it. As they went down in a confused heap the stairs struck the electric light and smashed it. It also knocked the shotgun from Sam’s hand.
Bang! went the firearm, with a report in the narrow confines of the cellar that was deafening.
“I’m killed! I’m killed!” came from Larry, an instant later. “You’ve shot my hand off!”
CHAPTER XXIX
A WRECK AND A CAPTURE
“Get off of my fingers!”
“Please let me get out of this hole!”
“Say, how can I get up if you’re going to sit on my legs?”
These and a few more utterances came from the boys as they endeavored to clear themselves of the wreckage of the fallen stairs. The small cellar was filled with smoke from the shotgun, and Larry was dancing around flipping his hurt hand in the air. All was pitch dark, for the small windows were covered with dirt and cobwebs to such a depth that no light penetrated through them.
“Beware of that g
un!” called Dick, when he could speak. “Only one barrel went off, remember.”
“Larry, are you really killed?” questioned Sara, who, somehow, felt responsible, since the weapon had been in his hands.
“N—no, but I’m hit in the fingers,” came from the wounded boy. “The shot went right past my head, too!”
“Make a light, somebody,” called out Fred. “Songbird, you’ve got some matches.”
The poet of the Hall lit a match, and by this faint light the boys first of all looked at Larry’s damaged hand. Fortunately the charge of shot had merely grazed the thumb and middle finger, and it was found that Larry was more frightened than hurt. The hand was bound up in a couple of handkerchiefs.
“When we get back to the boat you’ll want to wash the wounds well,” said Dick.
Tom had picked up the electric pocket light, but found he could not make it work. Again they were in darkness until another match was lit.
“We can’t reach that door, with the stairs down,” was Dick’s comment. “Let us break out a window.”
This was easily accomplished, and one after another the cadets crawled forth from the cellar. It was a tight squeeze, especially for Fred, who was rather large at the waist line.
“I guess those fellows who ran away thought we couldn’t get through that window,” said Songbird.
“If it had been an inch smaller I should have been stuck,” answered Fred.
They looked all around the old building, but nobody was in sight. The front door stood wide open, and they rightly surmised that the others had taken their departure that way.
“The question is, Which way did they go?” came from Dick.
“Do you think they went on foot?” asked Sam. “They might have a carriage.”
“Or a boat,” added Larry. “Oh, I hope we can catch them, just to make ’em pay for these hurt fingers of mine!” And he shut his teeth hard, for the wounds pained him not a little.
“Larry, I trust you don’t think it was my fault,” observed Sam.
“Not a bit of it, Sam. It was simply an accident, that’s all. I am glad those on the stairs didn’t hurt themselves.”
The Rover Boys Megapack Page 182