CHAPTER XIX A REVELATION IN CHINESE
That something had surely gone wrong with Irons O, the mechanicalpitcher, there could be no doubt. After making a hasty adjustment,Goggles and Hop Horner gave him a second ball and one more chance. Thistime his behavior was worse than ever. Swinging his arm about in a circlefour times, he sent the ball speeding over the catcher's head, on overthe low screen netting, and away into the blue.
"Strike!" a big voice roared from the crowd. This was greeted with a wildscream of merriment.
"Our first stop on the grand tour!" Goggles groaned once more. "A failurehere, and we're through." In his mind he saw the baseball grounds of hishome town deserted on Saturday, but crowded to over-flowing on Sundayafternoons. He heard wild shouts disturbing the sober citizens' rest, sawautos full of pleasure seekers, shouting through the town. Then hemuttered low: "We must not fail!"
"Hop!" he exclaimed, "There's someone back of all this trouble. I'm goingto find out who it is."
For ten minutes both he and Hop worked feverishly, their tremblingfingers serving them badly, when a quiet voice from behind them said:"Take your time, boys. Don't get excited. You are hoping to entertain aquiet peace-loving and patient people. They will not fail you." Thespeaker was a little man in steel-rimmed spectacles and a long blackcoat.
"An old-fashioned minister," Goggles thought, swallowing hard to keepback tears. "God bless him! Everyone here loves him, I'm sure."
The man went on talking slowly, quietly, reassuringly. "These Dakotafarmers plant wheat. If the hail does not beat it down, if a prairie firedoes not destroy it, if a drought does not dry it up--they get a goodcrop. If there is no crop, they plant again next year. They are patient.They can wait now, and they will."
It is strange what confidence such quiet assurance can inspire in a boy'smind. Five minutes had not passed before the boys had things adjusted andold Irons O was ready to pitch a perfect game.
The boys from the wheat belt put up a game defense, but they were nomatch for the Hillcrest team and their steel-fingered pitcher. At the endof the game the score stood 14 to 8 in Hillcrest's favor.
"Well, you won!" Dave Tobin, who had come along as financial manager,exclaimed enthusiastically. "And say! You should see the wad of bills Ihave for the ball grounds at home!"
"Yes," Goggles thought a trifle wearily, "we won." Truth is, he was notthinking of this at all. Instead, he was asking himself, "How is it thatIrons O gets his insides all mixed up before every game?"
"Mr. Sheeley," he said a half hour later, "our mechanical pitcher got allmussed up while he was inside one of your wings." (He always thought ofthe planes as wings.)
"How could it?" Sheeley was incredulous. "Locked up tight all the time.And I'm the only one that has a key. Fine lock too!"
"All the same," the boy thought to himself, "I'd like to ride to our nextstop right there in that wing.
"But of course it wouldn't do," he thought a moment later. "Fantasticsort of notion. Sheeley wouldn't like it. And yet--'mystery wings.'" Hewhispered these two last words.
"We get a different crowd next time," Doug said. He had just come up."Cattle men. Cowboys. Do you suppose they are a patient lot too?"
"Hope they won't need to be," Goggles smiled. "Cowboys! Well, you don'tthink of them as a quiet sort of people. Whirling over the prairieshouting enough to split your ears--that's my notion of them."
"Say," Doug asked in a low tone, "who do you suppose I saw in the crowd?"
"Who?"
"The little dark man."
"What! How'd he get here? Where is he now?"
"He's vanished. Been looking all over for him."
"Wonder what it means?" said Goggles. "Wonder if he'll be at the nextplace?"
"Mystery wings!" he murmured once more as he hurried away. Why did he saythat? Perhaps he himself could not have told.
That same afternoon Johnny took his secret regarding the thought-camerato good old Professor George. He did not tell him all he knew, not nearlyall, but enough to, in a way, outline the problem. What he really wishedto know was, just how much right he had to keep such a secret.
"That, I suppose," the old man replied thoughtfully, "is a question youwill have to decide for yourself. Secret knowledge is rather strange.What your rights are in regard to it has never been decided; that is,when the law does not come in. Of course, if it's a question of someonebreaking the law, then your duty's clear. You've got to tell."
Johnny started.
The old professor was very wise. "And Johnny--" he leaned forward quitesuddenly. "Seems to me this affair between the two Chinamen needs lookinginto. Why should Tao Sing wish to know what Wung Lu is thinking? Does hewant to profit by Wung Lu's wisdom? Well, perhaps--if it has to do withbuying and selling, making money. But pure wisdom, the wisdom of ancientChinese scholars? Never a bit of it. It's all written down where he canread it if he chooses to do so. I doubt if you have a right to carry WungLu's thoughts to Tao Sing."
"I--I've been wondering," Johnny said uneasily.
Again the professor had spoken more truth than he guessed.
"You've got the think-o-graphs you made last night," Professor Georgesaid quite suddenly, "the one you took of Wung Lu's thoughts?"
"Why yes. I--"
"Let's take it to Captain Gallagher."
"To--to the police?" Johnny stared. "He couldn't read it. It's all inChinese."
"He has an interpreter who can. He's to be trusted. I know him," theprofessor replied calmly.
"We-l-l," Johnny said slowly. Go to the police? He had asked this old manin to help clear things up. It looked now as if they were more tangledthan ever.
Their visit to the police station had the most astonishing results. Whenthe think-o-graph of Wung Lu's thoughts had been placed under themagnifying lens, the tiny mechanism started, and when the Chinese policeinterpreter was told to look into the microscope-like affair and watchthe words go by, the result was most startling. At first he just stoodthere squinting into the glass. Then of a sudden he let out a wild howland went dancing around the room as if he had been stung by a bee.
Johnny stopped the mechanism and waited. When at last the interpreter hadregained proper control of himself, he stepped to his place once more.But not for long.
Leaping into the air he let out one more wild howl, began calling out allsorts of strange Oriental names and would have bolted out of the door hadnot Chief Gallagher blocked the door.
Seizing the interpreter by the arm, the Chief dragged him into hisprivate office and closed the door.
For a full quarter of an hour only the low rumble of voices from theinner room disturbed the silence of the police station.
When the Chief and his interpreter returned the Chinaman appeared a shadepaler, but seemed quite calm.
"Chief," (Johnny had been thinking hard during that fifteen minuteconference), "perhaps I should tell you, there's a pair of Federal agentshanging around. I--I think they're working on this."
"As if I didn't know!" the Chief exclaimed. "Fact is, we're working with'em hand in hand. That's where I got a lot of my information. ButJohnny!" His voice rumbled. "There's no harm in givin' the local police abreak. Is there now?"
"Not a bit of harm." Johnny grinned happily. He liked the Chief. Longyears ago the Chief had saved him from a terrible beating by some olderboys.
The Chief signaled Johnny to start the mechanism once more. Theinterpreter took his place and saw the thing through to the end.
"Johnny," said the Chief, "do you think you could get one more ofthese--er--what is it you call 'em?"
"Think-o-graphs," Johnny grinned, "of Wung Lu? Well, if--if it seems tobe my duty." Johnny shuddered slightly. "But not at night."
"Any time you say." The Chief's face was sober. "It's very important. Idon't mind telling you that you may have prevented a tragedy."
"A--a tragedy. Yes," Johnny replied quietly, "I had sort of guessed that.You wouldn't mind tellin
g me just a little, would you?" he asked timidly.
"Well now," the Chief smiled, "if I don't you will be turnin' that mindreadin' machine on me an' then there's no tellin' what you'd be findin'out.
"I'll tell you this much." His voice dropped to a mere whisper. "You'veheard of these Chinese secret societies called tongs? Well, it has to dowith that. Your old friend Wung Lu belongs to a tong. He's done somethin'that's displeasin' to another tong. Probably nothin' illegal, just shorttradin' or somethin'. So they've decided to get him out of their way."
"Sho--shoot him?" Johnny stared. This had never occurred to him as apossibility.
"Somethin' like that. Queer part is," the Chief rumbled, "Wung Lu knowsall about it but he won't tell. They're like a lot of boys, theseOrientals. Just go about settlin' their own affairs. But this is tooserious to let them settle. We know the men we want and we've got to goget 'em. One of 'em's this wrinkle-faced little fellow Tao Sing. He an'his pals are in the United States illegally. We'll just send 'em backwhere they came from--if we can catch 'em. And that," the Chief ended,"is about all I can tell you just now."
"All," Johnny whispered to himself as he lay in his bed that night. "It'senough to make a fellow's head whirl."