The New Boys at Oakdale
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Below he heard Mrs. Chester calling to the maid, and, opening the door of his room, her words came plainly to his ears:
“Sarah! Sarah! Get up quick! I’m frightened. There must be a big fire. The bells are ringing.”
“So that’s it,” muttered Osgood, hastening to a window. “There’s a fire in the village. They sound the bells to give the alarm.”
Looking from the window, he failed to observe any glow of light against the sky to indicate where the fire might be. Through a momentary lull of the bells, he fancied he heard some one shouting far away in town. Surely some terrible thing had happened or was taking place.
Lighting a lamp, he rapidly finished dressing, and pulling on his turtle-neck sweater he grabbed up his cap.
As he bounded down the stairs, Mrs. Chester called to him from a partly opened door at the end of the hall:
“Where is it, Ned? Where’s the fire?”
“I don’t know,” he answered. “I looked out, but I couldn’t see any fire. Don’t be alarmed; it must be a long distance away, in another part of the village.”
A man was running down the middle of the street as Osgood dashed from the house, slamming the door behind him. He called to the man, but received no answer. Then he took to the street and followed.
The bell in the Methodist steeple hammered and banged as he raced past the church. Lights were shining everywhere from the windows of houses. Men and boys came running from side streets, questioning one another excitedly without getting satisfactory answers.
There was a crowd in the village square, and, contrasted with the agitated people who came running to join it from every direction, it was strangely calm.
Ned grabbed some one by the arm, as he demanded:
“What is it? What’s the matter? Why are they ringing the bells?”
He recognized Jack Nelson, as the person he had questioned turned to answer.
“It’s Hooker!”
“Hooker!” choked Osgood, aghast.
A fearsome thought smote him. Hooker was dead! But why should they ring the bells in the middle of the night and bring all the people out?
“Yes,” Nelson was saying, “Roy has disappeared. He was left, apparently asleep, and later, when some one looked into his room, he was gone.”
“Great Scott!” breathed Ned. “I thought perhaps he was dead.”
“Oh, no. In that case, it wouldn’t be necessary to turn the whole village out. He’s wandering around somewhere, half dressed and probably crazy. They’re getting the people out to search for him.”
“Is it necessary to turn out the whole town this way?”
“Perhaps so. They’ve tried to find him, but can’t. Now they’re asking everybody to join in the search. You see, there’s no telling what the result may be if he’s not found soon. In his dotty condition he may do himself harm; and, anyhow, with only a few clothes on, he’s liable to get pneumonia.”
Some of the men who had early learned the cause of the disturbance were now seen bringing lanterns, and in the midst of the gathering in the square, William Pickle, the deputy sheriff, was suggesting a plan of search, by which four parties should spread out in different directions.
“You want to look everywhere, feller citizens,” the officer was saying; “look into sheds and barns and under fences, and every old nook and corner where the boy may be hidin’. He’s plumb loony, ye know, and he’s li’ble to crawl into any old place. Mebbe he’ll be scat of ye and want to fight when ye do find him, so handle him gentle.”
At this juncture two men came panting down Main Street. “We know where he is!” shouted one. “We’ve seen him!”
“Yep, we’ve seen him,” gulped the other. “We almost ketched him, but he got away from us somehow.”
“Where is he? Where is he?” cried twenty voices.
“We was goin’ up the street, lookin’ for him, and we’d almost got to the Widder Chester’s, when we see somebody scoot across the road, jump the fence and put off inter the field above Cedar Street. When we hollered for him to stop he run faster.”
“And he could run some,” gasped the smaller man. “We chased him into a strip of trees and bushes, and he must be hid there right now, for we couldn’t find him.”
“Come on,” commanded William Pickle, taking the lead – “come on, everybody. Show us the way, Turner and Crabtree.”
Forgetting the original plan of search, the crowd poured up the main street, straggling out into a long, irregular body. Osgood, keeping close to the leaders, felt some one press against him, and recognized Billy Piper.
“This is bad business,” said Piper in a low tone.
“You’re right,” agreed Ned instantly. “No one can feel any worse about it than I do.”
“But feeling bad,” retorted Billy grimly, “doesn’t make amends; it’s got to be something more than that.”
As the searchers turned from the road near Mrs. Chester’s house, climbed the fence and streamed across the field, Ned began to understand that the shouting, which had seemed to break in upon his troubled dreams, had been real. And with this conviction came the thought that in his delirium Hooker had sought to return to the place where he had been injured. It was a disagreeable thought, which Osgood tried to put aside.
The rising moon, breaking now and then through ragged clouds, promised aid to the searchers. Directed by Pickle, they spread out and practically surrounded the long, narrow strip of trees and bushes. This done, a body of men entered the growth and worked their way through it, leaving scarcely a yard of ground uninspected. But when they had passed over it all in this thorough manner, it became known that not one of them had found the slightest trace of the missing lad.
“He must have hid till Turner and Crabtree left,” said the deputy sheriff. “As soon as they were gone, he prob’ly hit out for somewhere’s else.”
“Too bad one of ’em didn’t have sense enough to stay and watch while t’other one went for help,” said Abel Hubbard, the constable.
The posse gathered in a group, seeking further instructions from their leaders.
“Don’t believe they’ll ever find him this way,” said Billy Piper. “They’re not going about it with any sort of method.”
“Yeou’re so all-fired clever at sech things,” said Sile Crane, “why don’t yeou suggest a plan?”
“They wouldn’t listen to me if I proposed anything.”
“If you have a plan, Piper,” said Nelson, joining the little cluster of boys that surrounded Billy, “just tell us what it is. If it sounds reasonable, we’ll carry it out.”
“Let me think a moment – let me think,” said Piper, tapping his knuckles against his forehead. “The report is that Roy was talking some along about nightfall, though his words were jumbled, without much sense in them. He kept repeating certain things, such as ‘poker,’ ‘five aces,’ and ‘cabin.’”
“You know what Professor Richardson said,” put in Rodney Grant. “It’s thought that Roy was playing cards for money when he was hurt.”
“If so,” said Billy, “that would explain the words ‘poker’ and ‘five aces’; but why did he keep talking about a cabin? Ha! I have it. I happen to know that once on a time a certain little bunch of fellows went over to the old camp in Silver Brook Swamp to play poker, and Hook was one of the crowd. Cabin – that’s what he meant; he had something in his muddled mind about that old camp in the swamp. Come on, fellows, perhaps we’ll find him there.”
“You’ve always been so lucky in your guesses,” said Nelson, “that there’s a chance you may be right this time. If you should happen to be, your reputation as a great detective will be established on a firm – ”
“I don’t want any such reputation!” snapped Billy shortly. “I think I told you so once before, Jack.”
“Geewhilikens!” exclaimed Crane, astonished. “What’s happened to yeou naow? Yeou’ve alwus been red-hot to play the detective, and some folks have begun to say that yeou’re purty clever at it.”
“I haven’t time to explain my reasons for cutting that tommyrot out,” retorted Piper. “Let’s get a move on.”
There were eight boys in the party that set out for Silver Brook Swamp, led by Piper. Striking across the fields, they passed to the south of Turkey Hill and reached the Barville road. The clouds were dispersing and the moon was shining clear and bright when they drew near Silver Brook and came to the old path that led into the swamp.
Phil Springer and Chipper Cooper were disposed to lag behind somewhat, although something seemed to draw them on after the others.
“I’ve been expecting Piper to blow the whole thing any minute,” said Cooper, speaking to Phil in a low tone.
“Wonder why he hasn’t?” speculated Springer. “He sus-swore to us that he would if Shultz or Osgood didn’t own up pup-pretty quick.”
“Guess he’s waiting for what he’d call the psychological moment. You know Pipe’s always great for dramatic effects.”
“There can be only one outcome to this thing now. We’re all in the sus-sus-soup.”
“Billy says it’s our duty to think of Roy, not ourselves.”
“I’ve been th-thinking of him too much. It’s made me sick. I’m thinking of him now, and what we’re liable to fuf-find in this old swamp if Pipe’s guess is right about the way he went. Being crazy enough to jump out of bub-bed and run off half-dressed, anything may huh-happen to him.”
“That’s right,” agreed Chipper dolefully. “I wonder where Charley Shultz is? Didn’t see anything of him with the crowd.”
“Yah!” growled Springer. “He hasn’t got any fuf-feelings. I’ll bet he’s in bed, sleeping like a log, this very minute. Probably not even the ringing of the bells woke him up.”
“He must have a heart of stone,” said Cooper.
Had they known all that had happened to Shultz in the last two hours, could they have seen him in his present painful and wretched condition, their judgment of him might not have been so harsh.
CHAPTER XXI – THE CAMP ON THE ISLAND
Under the western shoulder of Turkey Hill the shadows were deep and heavy, and, the path being dim and faint from rare use, it was necessary for the party to proceed slowly. They did not talk much, and when they did speak their words were uttered in low and guarded tones.
Several times, Piper, in the lead, paused to make sure they had not wandered from the right course. The others seemed to rely almost wholly upon Billy, and no one thought of superseding him in the leadership. During one of these pauses, Cooper, who had halted with Springer a short distance behind the others, pulled at Phil’s sleeve and whispered in his ear:
“Say, old man, don’t you think it’s about time we told all we know about this business?”
Springer gave his body a queer sort of a shake.
“What gug-good will that do?” he whispered back. “It won’t help fuf-find Hooker.”
“No, but it may help us after he’s found.”
“I don’t think so; it’s tut-too late.”
“Why too late?” persisted Chipper.
“Because everybub-bub-body would know we were just scared into it, that’s all. It wouldn’t help us a bit, Chip – not a bit, to tell it now. If Piper thought it would do any good you bub-bet your life he’d have told already.”
“Perhaps you’re right,” sighed Cooper; “but it’s an awful load on my conscience, and I’d like to get it off my system.”
“Come on,” Piper called back in a low tone. “We’re all right. This is the way.”
They went forward again, turning presently to the left and descending to the lower ground at the border of the broad marsh. The trees became more scattering and the thickets grew thinner. Before long they saw the marsh, spreading out before them, silent and strange and uninviting in the moonlight which flooded its expanse of pools and reeds and brushwood, amid which a few scraggy dead trees rose here and there. In the midst of the expanse was a bit of higher ground, covered by a growth of small, dark, evergreen trees. This was the “island” on which stood the old camp where Piper hoped to find Roy Hooker. From knoll to knoll, in a zigzag course, led the path, the pools and marshy places bridged by felled trees and brushwood.
“I’m afraid you won’t find him there, Piper,” said Nelson.
Cooper, hearing the words, muttered for Springer’s ear:
“I’m afraid we will.”
Despite their caution in proceeding, at one point, Grant, breaking through the brushwood bridge with a cracking sound, plunged one leg to the thigh between the two lengthwise supports and drew it forth soaking wet.
“This yere trail,” said the Texan, “is sure some unreliable and treacherous.”
Those who reached the island first waited for the others to come up. They stood there whispering and listening, but hearing no sounds to assure them that the one they sought was near.
“As he’s deranged,” said Piper, “we want to take care not to frighten him more than possible, for it’s likely he’ll be scared and run when he sees us.”
“He can’t run fur,” declared Crane, “without plungin’ head over heels right into the swamp.”
“And that’s what we don’t want him to do; it might be his finish. We must prevent him from running away when we find him.”
“When we find him,” muttered Nelson. “But something tells me we won’t find him here.”
Slowly they pushed forward toward the center of the island. In a few moments they came to a small opening and paused again, before them the old camp huddling in the shadows of a thick grove which rose close beside it. The place was dolefully silent and forbidding at that hour. A breath of wind, sweeping across the island, set up a sudden rustling, which was accompanied by a sound that put their nerves on edge.
That sound was like a low, harsh moan or groan, and it seemed to come from the sagging, deserted camp before them. Some shrank back shivering, while others appeared eager to rush forward.
“He’s there!” breathed Nelson. “That must be he!”
Springer stooped and placed his lips close to Cooper’s ear:
“Sus-sus-sounded to me like sus-sus-some one dying,” he chattered.
“Let the others go ahead,” gasped Cooper. “I don’t want to find him first. I don’t want to see him. I’d like to get away this minute.”
With his arm outstretched and the palm of his hand turned backward to restrain his companions, Billy Piper advanced swiftly on his toes. Within a few feet of the shanty structure, he saw that the door was standing open. At that moment another gust of wind rustled through the trees, and immediately the harsh moaning sound was repeated.
“It’s the door,” declared Billy, enlightened. “The wind moves it and makes the old hinges creak.”
“My Jinks!” mumbled Crane, in great relief. “I thought it must be him sure; I thought it was Roy. Mercy! I’m all ashake.”
Stepping boldly to the black doorway, Piper struck a match, but a gust of wind extinguished it. Immediately he lighted a second match, shielding the tiny blaze with his cupped hands. Close behind him crowded the others, seeking to look over his shoulders into the camp when the blaze should be sufficient to reveal the interior of the place.
Having protected the match until it burned brightly, Billy held it out before him and slightly above his head, shifting his curved hands until they served as a reflector for the tiny flaring light.
The shanty contained only one room, which seemed to be quite empty and deserted, save for an old broken table and a few crude pieces of furniture. There were shadows in the corners, but none of these seemed sufficient to hide a human being.
The flame scorched Billy’s fingers, and he dropped the match, which, a bent and glowing coal, floated zigzagging and spiraling downward, burst into bits as it struck, and died out.
Some one behind Piper drew a long breath. “I don’t reckon he’s here, after all,” said the voice of Grant.
“There’s something white lying on the floor,” declared Billy, with suppressed excitement. “I saw it just as I dropped the match.”
Lighting another, he stepped forward and picked the thing up. It was a damp cloth, and with it in his hand he retreated into the moonlight outside.
“What is it? What is it?” questioned the boys, pressing around him.
Billy held it up. “Looks to me like a wet towel that had been wound round something and fastened into place with safety pins,” he said. “That’s what it is, too. Fellows, Hooker may not be here now, but he has been here – he certainly has. This proves it.”
“How do you make that out?” asked Osgood, doing his best to appear as calm as would seem consistent.
“This towel proves it,” reiterated Piper. “It couldn’t come here without being brought, could it?”
“No; but I don’t see – ”
“It’s wet. It’s the very towel that was used to hold the ice compress on Roy’s head.”
“If that’s right,” said Nelson swiftly, “he must be near. Perhaps he’s hiding close by in the bushes. We must search every foot of this island.”
“Every inch of it,” agreed Piper, “and we want to be about it right away. Let’s fall back to the place where we came on, and begin there. We must spread out and then advance together. There must be some system about it.”
Following his directions, they began the search on the island. It was dark, pokey work in the midst of the thicker growths, but, nevertheless, they did it with an amount of thoroughness that made it seem impossible for them to overlook a person seeking to hide on that small patch of dry land. Yet, when they had covered it all and reached the western side beyond which the swamp lay impassable for a person afoot, they had found no additional token of Hooker.
“Too bad,” said Nelson, discouraged. “He isn’t here. He can’t be here.”
“It doesn’t seem possible,” admitted Piper, “yet this towel is sure evidence that he has been here.”
“He must have gone away before we came,” was Osgood’s opinion. “I don’t believe he could have dodged us after we got on to the island.”
Almost with one accord, they turned to Piper.
“What be we goin’ to do next, Billy?” asked Crane.
“Let’s take one more look into that old camp,” suggested the leader, who, although he did not admit it, was almost at his wit’s end. “I know where there’s an old pitch-pine log, and we ought to get a piece of that to serve as a torch.”
The log, which had been partly hacked up for firewood, was found, and a slender resinous strip was torn from it. Lighting one end of this strip of wood, Piper fanned it into a bright flame, and, bearing it in his hand, boldly entered the shanty.
The torch revealed nothing they had not previously seen, but it did give them complete assurance that the boy they sought could not be hiding there.
“Yes, he got away, that’s sure,” said Nelson; “and there’s only one way by which he could do it. He had to go back as he came.”
“And therefore,” said Billy quickly, “he must be in the woods somewhere yonder. That’s where we should look for him now.”
“Perhaps,” ventured Crane, “he’s near enough to hear us. Oh, Hooker! Hey, Roy!”
Piper sprang at him savagely. “Stop that, you idiot!” he snarled. “Stop shouting that way! What are you trying to do?”
“Why, I thought he might hear me.”
“Yes, he might and be frightened into fits. No more of that fool business, Sile. Keep still and come on. We’ll get off right away and do the best we can hunting for him over yonder.”
Over the treacherous crossing they returned to the solid ground beyond the border of the swamp. Looking backward, Cooper tugged at Springer’s sleeve.
“Now I’m afraid we won’t find him, Phil,” he confessed. “I’m afraid nobody will find him tonight. And when they do, it wouldn’t surprise me if they dug his body out of this old swamp.”
CHAPTER XXII – A SURPRISING CONFESSION
After a time Osgood and Nelson became separated from the rest of the searchers. They had come to a little opening where the moonlight shone upon a small pile of cord-wood that had been cut and left there during the past winter, and here they stopped and faced each other.
“It’s worse than useless, this searching without lights of any sort save what the moon affords,” said Jack. “There are thousands of places were one could hide from searchers if he chose. It would be better to go through the woods calling to Hooker and assuring him we are friends.”
“I doubt,” returned Ned, “if we’d find him then.”
“What do you suppose has become of him?”
“You can answer that question fully as well as I.”
“Well, then,” said Jack suddenly, “what do you suppose was the cause of all this trouble, anyhow? How was Hooker hurt?”
Osgood’s answer was a shrug. Motioning toward two short stumps which stood nearby, he suggested that they should sit down.
“I want to talk to you, Nelson,” he said, when they were seated. “I’ve got to talk to some one, and I’d rather it would be you than any one else. We’ve never been what might be called real friendly, have we?”
Surprised and wondering at his companion’s words and singular manner, Nelson replied:
“I don’t know that we’ve been exactly chummy, but – ”
“Tell the truth,” interrupted Osgood, reaching out and putting his hand on the other boy’s knee. “We haven’t been even friendly, although you seemed willing enough to be, and I’ve put up a bluff that I was. All the same, you didn’t trust me. You knew I was bluffing.”
“I – I don’t think – that I – actually knew it,” stammered Nelson, still more astonished.
Osgood threw back his head and smiled. The moonlight, full on his rather handsome, aristocratic face, showed that smile to be touched with bitterness, even with self-scorn.
“I’m a bluffer, Nelson – a thoroughbred bluffer,” he declared. “Intuition told you as much. All along I knew you were one fellow in Oakdale that I had not fully blinded. Piper, with all his natural shrewdness – and we’ll admit that he’s naturally shrewd – was deceived in me.”
“What are you talking about, Osgood?” exclaimed Jack. “Why are you telling me this stuff, anyhow?”
“I don’t know just why, but I’m telling it to relieve my mind. Perhaps it will relieve me in a measure, anyhow. I had no thought in the world of talking to you this way when we paused here a few moments ago, but suddenly an irresistible impulse came upon me. Something seemed to say, ‘You may as well tell him, for he sees through you, anyhow.’ Do you know, Nelson, I’ve hated you. Yes, that’s the word. I hated you because I couldn’t deceive you, and that’s why I longed to do something to hurt you.”
“You what? Of course I know I benched you in that Wyndham game, but I had – ”
“You should have benched me before,” exclaimed Osgood. “You should have fired me from the nine.”
“Fired you? Why, you were one of our best players. You really knew more baseball than any one else on the team. You were valuable.”
“Even if I could play better baseball than Hans Wagner himself, I was a bad man to have on the team, for I was trying to create insubordination, distrust and a disbelief in your ability as captain.”
“I – I knew Shultz was ready to kick against my authority at any provocation,” said Nelson, bewildered; “but you always seemed so decent and – ”
“Shultz!” exploded Osgood. “Why, he was simply carrying out my scheme. I let him think it was mainly his idea, but all the time it was mine. I fooled him, just the same as I did the others. When I perceived that you did not trust me, and when I became convinced that you thought me something of a fraud, I was bitterly determined to down you. I set about ingratiating myself into the good will and esteem of certain fellows on the team – certain fellows I felt confident I could sway to my will. Never mind who they are, Nelson, for they weren’t wise to the depth of my game. Still, I knew I was getting them, one by one, just where I wanted them. I knew that in time, when I should be ready to make a split on the nine, I could swing them to my side and carry the majority of the players with me. That was my object, Nelson. I intended to make trouble on the team, break it up under your leadership, and then suggest reorganization, with the purpose of being chosen captain in your place.”
Nelson leaped to his feet. “Why, you miserable scoundrel!” he cried furiously. “So that’s what you were up to! I did smell a rat. I did think you were up to something underhanded. So that was it, eh? You’re a scrapper; you can box, they say. Take off your coat!”
Osgood made no move to rise. “We’re not going to fight,” he asserted calmly. “Did you think I was telling you this in order to provoke a fight?”
“I can’t understand why under heaven you told me, anyhow.”
“Simply because I was determined to relieve myself of some of the load I’ve been carrying. Simply because in the last few hours I’ve come to see the full meaning of my dirty scheming. Oh, I don’t suppose you believe me, but that’s the reason – anyhow, it’s a part of the reason. And I’m done with it all, no matter what may happen to me to-morrow.”