CHAPTER XIV
GATHERING TROUBLE
The telephone tinkled in the kitchen just after Dan had pulled off hisboots. He and Billy were the last to go to bed on this evening, for itwas so cold that they had gone out to the milk room to blanket all thebottled milk for fear the bottles would freeze and burst their caps.
Billy, still having his boots on, went down the back stairway and Danheard him speaking into the instrument. It was several moments beforethe older boy realized that Billy was growing excited.
And no wonder! Billy was listening to something over the ’phone thatquite amazed him. In the first place he was surprised to hear old JohnBromley’s voice.
Bromley seldom if ever called them up, although the boys had paid forhaving him put on the party wire. It was handy for them to be incommunication with Old John, summer and winter.
“You and Dan had better come down here,” said the boatman, his voicevery low. “There’s something——”
It died out there and Billy asked him to repeat it. Old John seemed tokeep right on whispering:
“I’ve chased ’em off, but they come back.”
“_Who_ has come back? What d’ye mean?” gasped Billy.
“And so you better come. Don’t want ’em ... hear me talkin’——”
“What under the sun are you getting at, John?” exclaimed Billy. “Let’shave the details.”
Bromley’s voice on the wire was strong for a moment. “Now, you wait——”
And that was all—every last word Billy heard! He rattled the hook, andshouted into the mouthpiece, and tried to call Central. He got her aftera while and demanded that Bromley be called again.
“Doesn’t answer!” snapped the girl, after a fruitless minute.
Dan, hearing Billy’s voice rising to crescendo, pulled on his bootsagain and ran down to the kitchen. “You’ll wake the whole house up,” heexclaimed, admonishingly.
“Well, what do you know about this?” Billy demanded.
“About what?”
“Something has happened down to Old John’s——”
He turned and made frantic efforts to get Central again. She saidfinally: “Don’t answer. I think he’s got the receiver off the hook.”
Billy, at this, repeated as near as he could remember the brokensentences he had heard over the wire.
“Sure it was Bromley?” asked Dan.
“I hope I know his voice, even when he whispers,” replied Billy, withscorn.
“We’d better go down there,” said Dan, slowly. “John is old; something_might_ have happened.”
“I reckon something has happened, all right, all right!” growled Billy,beginning to struggle into his coat.
“Wait till I speak to father. We mustn’t go without telling him. Get outthe motorcycles, Billy.”
“Betcher!” responded his brother, unlocking the kitchen door.
Five minutes later they were astride their machines and were wheelingfor the crossroad that led down to Bromley’s dock. The wind cut like aknife and it was pitch dark. Without their headlights they would nothave dared venture along the black road. Now and then—it seemed to Dan—aflake of snow stung his cheek. The long-gathering storm was about due.
They shut off the noisy engines as they slid down the hill to theriver’s brink. The _Flying Feathers_ rattled a little over the ruts; butthey approached the dock rather quietly, after all.
There wasn’t a light anywhere about the premises—not even in Old John’slittle green painted shack where he had lived alone so many years.
“Let’s go easy, Billy,” advised Dan.
They hopped off their wheels and stood them carefully under the trees bythe roadside. They quenched the light of their lamps, too; but Danremoved his lamp and carried it in his hand against emergencies.
“Don’t see a soul around,” breathed Billy. “Shall we hail the old man?”
“Not yet,” returned Dan, quite as disturbed now as was his brother.
They were almost at the door of the cabin when Billy suddenly clutchedDan’s arm. He pointed toward the outer end of the dock.
“Where—where’s that other mast?” he demanded.
“What—you can’t see it in this black night, Billy,” Dan declared.
He, too, recognized the lofty mast of the _Fly-up-the-Creek_. The mastof the motor iceboat should have stood beyond it; but——
“It’s gone!” gasped Billy, and started on the run down the dock.
“Wait!” called Dan, softly.
He raised his hand to knock upon the door of Bromley’s hut, but haltedin a panic. Out on the ice—seemingly from a great distance—sounded theexplosions of a motor exhaust!
“They’ve robbed us!” shrieked Billy, from the end of the dock. “Look,the _Follow Me_ is gone!”
Dan did not wait to rap on Old John’s door. He lifted the latch andfound it unbolted. As he stumbled into the place he fell over a bodylying on the floor. Opening his lamp, he turned the ray upon theobstruction. It was Bromley, bound hand and foot, and gagged, lyinghelpless on the floor, but very much awake!
The old man’s eyes glared like a mad cat’s in the dark; and when Danjerked away the bandage that had smothered his speech, the old boatman“let go” some deep-sea language that—at another time—would have quitestartled the Speedwells.
“Those sculpins jumped on me—three of ’em. I knowed they was sneakin’erbout, an’ I was tryin’ ter warn ye over the ’phone. But while I wastalkin’ ter Master Billy they rushed me—broke right inter the house herean’ grabbed me.
“Ye kin see I did some fightin’,” said Bromley, who was now sitting downand holding his head, on one side of which a big lump had come intosudden being. “There’s my butter crock smashed—I heaved it at one of thevillings—I did so!
“But three ter one is big odds for an old feller like me. Ye see whatthey done to me? And they went off with your new boat, Master Dan._That’s_ what they was after.”
“What did they look like?” queried Dan, sharply.
“They was masked—every one o’ them,” replied Bromley.
“They went up the river, Dan,” said Billy, eagerly. “Didn’t you hear theexhaust of their engine?”
“I couldn’t place it.”
“_I_ could,” declared Billy, earnestly. “I was out on the end of thedock, and I marked it well. ’Twas up-stream——”
“Ye’d better telephone to the constable,” said Old John.
“To Josiah Somes?” laughed Billy. “A fat lot of good _that_ would dous.”
“You ’phone to the sheriff, John,” commanded Dan, suddenly deciding thematter. “And tell father about it, if he asks. But Billy and I willfollow the robbers.”
“Say! them three villings was powerful mean to me,” objected theboatman. “What they’d do to a couple of boys——”
“We needn’t get into a tussle with them,” said Dan, quickly. “We’ll justget on their trail—if we can.”
“We can,” cried Billy, confidently, and ran out of the cabin at once.
His brother was soon after him. They unleashed the bigger iceboat andpushed her off from the dock. There was a strong gale blowing, but theyhad been out in some pretty keen blows with the _Fly-up-the-Creek_, andknew well how to manage her.
“Sure they went up stream?” asked Dan, as he helped Billy raise the bigsail.
“Pos-i-tive!”
“Then——We’re off! Look out for yourself, Billy, when the boom swingsover.”
Dan barely caught the stern of the craft and scrambled in. The wind hadfilled the canvas suddenly, and she shot out from the dock. He had herin hand in a minute, however, and sent the boom creaking over and theygot upon the right tack.
Almost at once the iceboat set a pace that made the boys cower and clingas they could to the rocking, wrenching timbers of the craft. The galedid not show its fury until they were well out of the lee of the land.
Then the bo
ys discovered that it was snowing, too. The few flakes thathad whistled past them while they were riding down to the dock hadgathered in infinite numbers now. The gale whipped them along sospeedily that they did not seem to touch the ice at all; yet the air wassoon filled with hurrying, stinging ice particles which blinded them.
Somewhere ahead they believed three robbers were flying up the river inthe stolen motor iceboat. Of course, they would carry no lamps, and itwould be difficult to see the runaway until they were right upon it.
But if they continued to use the motor Dan and Billy knew they wouldsoon be able to place the _Follow Me_. They strained their ears todistinguish the put-put-put of the exhaust.
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