CHAPTER VIII
IN MOST EXCELLENT GOOD SEASON
Almost as he ceased speaking the detective, peering forward, as if notquite certain of the road, it was so dark, placed a detaining hand onDavy's arm. "Right to one side here and stop," he said.
Without jar or sound, save the slight squeak of a brake, the Big Sixcame to a halt. The wonder of the Auto Boys was doubled, if such a thingwere possible. Another hundred yards would have placed them directly infront of the dwelling of Mr. Peek.
"_He_ had nothing to do with stealing that car, or ours," Paul Jonescould not refrain from whispering to Billy, at his side.
Lost in his own questioning thoughts, Worth did not answer.
"Keep right behind me, Philip, the gun in your right hand and pointed tothe ground." Mr. Rack was out of the car now, and taking Phil by thesleeve as he spoke, that young gentleman also stepped softly down. "Ifyou boys are as quiet as mice," said the detective to the others, "youwill hear me call instructions, should I do so. We may be gone for sometime."
In silent wonder the three in the car obeyed the order so gently given,but so imperatively attuned. Without misgiving, but trembling from themultitude of questions rushing to his mind, Way followed Mr. Rack.Walking upright, but without noise, the two approached the dark andlonely farmhouse.
Stationing Way behind the trunk of an old apple tree, Mr. Rack left him.For a quarter of an hour he was absent. Vastly to Phil's surprise hecame creeping on hands and knees and was fairly beside the boy ere thelatter discovered him.
"We are too late, or too early. It will take some time----"
A terrific scream burst suddenly on the air. Coming in unexpectedviolence, and from within the old house, the sound was terrifying beyonddescription.
"Don't forget the signal!" said Robert Rack calmly.
"Close in," Phil whispered, to show he remembered, but the detective wasgone.
The seconds seemed like hours to Philip Way and no less so to the threein the car who had heard the frightful scream.
Suddenly there came a wild cry, like violent, threatening anger, likethe howl of a wolf at bay. And then----
"Close in!" It was the voice of Bob Rack, and what a contrast with theother! It might have been a father calling a son to breakfast, so cool,collected, calm it was.
Instantly Way rushed forward through the dark. _Close in!_ Yes, butwhere? How? Soon he found himself groping for the door at the sideporch. A feeble light shone from the kitchen. With a crash the door wassuddenly flung open. A heavy figure leaped forth. Phil threw himselfforward, arms outstretched, just as many a time he had tackled on thegridiron, and the heavy body went tumbling to the ground beside thedoorstep, Way with it, but keeping the uppermost position.
"Nicely done, Philip, nicely!" No disturbed note, no ruffled sound, noexcitement whatever,--just Bob Rack saying a word or two in his calm andtranquil way, both then and an instant later: "Sit up, Adam! Let himrise, Phil. I think we were here just in good season. You see how Mr.Peek is, Phil,--back there in the front room. You'll find another lampin the kitchen, no doubt."
Nothing surprised Phil more, perhaps, than the effect of the detective'slow and even tones upon himself. Though panting for breath, after therecent struggle and his exertion, he noticed that he experienced nosense of fear or apprehension. He found a lamp on a low mantel andlighted it. As he went toward the room adjoining, he heard Mr. Rack callcheerily, "Light up the car, boys! Drive up to the yard here, if youwill."
The scene Phil discovered in the front room would have been horrifyingbut for the calm upon him, to which allusion has just been made. Mr.Peek, dressed as if for work, sat on the edge of the bed, his facecovered by his hands while blood stained his fingers and dripped, likethe dropping of water, upon the oil-cloth covering the floor.
Hastily Way helped the old man to rise. He wanted the outer air hesaid--his chair near the kitchen door. The lad led him as he wished,then brought water and a towel. Helping himself, then, Mr. Peek bathedan ugly wound above and to the left of his left eyebrow. A revolver inhis hand, Mr. Rack sat on the lower steps of the porch. His prisoner saton the ground before him and the detective had taken the precaution ofslipping handcuffs upon him.
Billy, Paul and Dave had now arrived upon the scene, but not oneventured a word.
"Are you able to ride to town, Mr. Peek?" asked Mr. Rack. "You'll be somuch better there than here."
But no, the old gentleman would not go. He was not much hurt, he said,and would feel perfectly safe to remain alone. "Safer than I have reallybeen for many a day, I don't doubt," he added. "But if he had struck thetemple, as he surely tried to, he would have killed me," shuddered theaged farmer. "Lord, I have suffered as I have deserved!"
The latter words were low, as if spoken in prayer. Then quite aloudagain, "Take him with you. You might drop in to-morrow. Maybe my boyswill be out this way." The latter words were accompanied by a smile."You and your automobile did good work to-night, boys! However youhappened along, I can't think! And this gentleman with you?"
"It's quite a story, Mr. Peek. I'll tell you all about it when you'verested some," said Way, holding a lamp, while Billy tied a soft, cleanhandkerchief over the wound. Worth was gentle and clever as a woman atsuch things.
"Thunder and lightning! It's _Pickem!_ I thought----"
Paul's violent exclamation caused all the boys to look at once to theman on the ground. The dull glow of the lamp had suddenly fallen uponthe fellow's face.
"So did I! I thought----"
"That it was Coster," broke in Bob Rack gently. "But it is neither henor any other than Mr. Adam W. Kull, of Harkville, New York."
"By thunder! _We_ called him Pickem!" cried Paul, in amazement. "How did_he_ get here?"
"I think he ran out in his Torpedo. The car stands by the roadside, justabove," said Mr. Rack, pleasantly.