CHAPTER XXIV--THE KIDNAPPED BOY
"Well, I see you have made it, Tom?"
"Made what, Dr. Burr?"
"A brave record. I compliment you on it, my boy. You deserve all theysay about you."
"I don't understand what you are talking about, doctor."
"That will tell you, then," and with a friendly smile the Rockley Covephysician pressed upon Tom a newspaper he had been carrying when he methis young friend.
Tom was in a great hurry. He told the doctor so and hastened homewards.It was the morning after the rescue of those aboard the _Olivia_. Tomhad remained on duty at Station Z all night, and Bill Barber hadinsisted on keeping him company.
There had been little of real business to attend to, but Tom hadconcluded it was the right time to look out for disasters, as witnessthe lucky reception of the wireless from the ill-fated _Olivia_.
Bill had relieved Tom in watching and sleeping, and Tom had dozed enoughto keep him from feeling done out, despite the rigorous experience ofthe early evening hours.
Just an hour previous Ben Dixon had put in a dejected and disconsolateappearance at the tower. The minute Tom caught sight of his face he knewthat his chum had failed in his search for the missing Harry Ashley.
"No use, Tom," was Ben's blunt report. "Your father and I reachedWadhams and visited the circus, but we were too late."
"How too late, Ben?" inquired Tom.
"Harry was gone."
"Then he had been there?"
"We found that out all right. Twelve hours earlier, and we would havereached him. There were two kidnappers, all right, and one of themanswered the description of the fellow you noticed spying on Harry theday he was in swimming with the boys."
"Were they holding Harry a prisoner?"
"A safe and sound one. The men had been circus peddlers once. They tookHarry to an open, roofless canvas where a lot of truck was stored. Itseems that an old friend of theirs had charge of it. From all yourfather could get this man to say, Brady and Casey--those are the namesof Tom's kidnappers--made him believe he was a bad runaway boy they wereauthorized and paid for to return to his friends. I don't believe thatmyself. I think the three men were in cahoots, and that the circustender was in on the scheme, whatever it is. Anyhow, in the rooflesstent was a lion's cage. Its occupant had died a few days before Harry'sarrival. It was a safe place to shut the lad in, and they did it. Theysort of partitioned the cage off by itself, and kept close watch onHarry, so he wouldn't raise a rumpus. Brady was away for two days, Ifound out, so their plot was working."
"And what about the toy balloons?" inquired Tom.
"Why, the way I got it was that one of the circus peddlers who had a lotof them for sale, kept his surplus stock in the storage tent. In someway Harry must have been struck with the idea of using them asmessengers to tell of his captivity. Anyhow, he managed to reach themwith a stick or string, or in some ingenious way, and had all night toequip them with the cards. Brady and Casey let Harry out of the cage,and took him away in an automobile night before last."
"You couldn't find out their destination?"
"The circus keeper declared that he didn't know. Your father inquiredaround of others, though, and from what he heard he thinks they wereheaded for Springville. We weren't sure. We decided that Harry would bekept in closer hiding than ever, and we sort of got discouraged and gaveit up."
"I won't give it up!" cried Tom, his eyes snapping; and preparing toleave the tower at once. "I'll find the man I saw at the river if I haveto chase him all over the state."
"Well, you see, you'd know him by sight, and we wouldn't," submittedBen.
"I feel it my duty to do all I can to find Harry," proceeded Tom. "Atany rate, I am going to try. You stay on duty at the station, Ben. Itsimply isn't in me to remain quiet where we don't know what fate maythreaten that poor boy."
Now, after leaving the tower, Tom had met Dr. Burr, and hurriedhomewards. He took a look at the newspaper the physician had given him.Its heading told that it was a daily print from a nearby city, receivedat Rockley Cove by a few residents early in the morning.
Tom, as has been said, was in urgent haste, but one glance at theprinted sheet halted him as suddenly as if it had been a warrantpresented unexpectedly by an officer of the law.
In glaring headlines the feature of the news of the day, the rescue ofthe passengers of the _Olivia_, was indicated. In bold, broad type hisname stood out as the hero of a grand occasion. Tom's eye lit up as inthe same glaring type he read also the name of his loyal adherent, BillBarber. It was "William Barber," the dignified way the paper put it, andTom was unutterably glad.
He merely skimmed the three columns of details that followed. Then hecrumpled up the paper and started on a run for home with the breathlessexclamation:
"It's wonderful!"
Tom did not mean that the chronicled rescue was wonderful. He was toomodest for that. What stirred and startled him were the remarkableevidences of journalistic ability displayed by the newspaper. He decidedthat after he and Bill had left Brookville the captain of the Oliviamust have got in immediate connection with New York and other places bytelegraph.
"He must have had a busy time of it, giving all those details,"ruminated Tom. "They have made a big thing of it, sure enough. Well, itwill please father and mother, and as for myself--I hope I deserve allthey say about me."
Tom reached the house to find that the news of his part in the rescue ofthe _Olivia_ had preceded him. When the newspaper was discovered, everymember of the family, even the hired men, crowded about to stare inwonder at the printed page over the shoulder of Ted Barnes, who began toread in a tragic, breathless tone.
Mr. Barnes looked considerably stirred up, and there was a new respectfor the "new-fangled" wireless in his mind, Tom felt certain. His mothertremulously clung close to him as she asked solicitous questions, to besure that he had not suffered in limb or health from his hard battlewith the waves.
As soon as things had quieted down somewhat, Tom took his father aside.He told his parents of his resolve to go in search of Harry Ashley, andhis father encouraged him.
A hired man was to drive our hero over to Wadhams in the farm gig. Tomreached that town about noon. He went at once to the circus, to find itin confusion. They were dismantling the show to exhibit in another town,and the man who knew Brady and Casey had gone forward with the firstcontingent.
About to follow, Tom paused. A sudden thought came to his mind. The twokidnappers had left Wadhams with Harry in an automobile. It was scarcelyprobable that the machine was their own.
"They must have borrowed or hired it," reflected Tom, "most likely thelatter. It's worth while trying to find out."
Tom made due inquiries in regard to the location of public liverygarages in the town. There were three, he ascertained, and he started into visit them in turn.
At the first garage he received no encouragement; at the second one theresult was more satisfactory. The call book of the garage showed that amachine had been sent to the circus two nights before, and had made arun to Springville.
"That's the one," decided Harry; and questioning the garage owner, hewas soon in touch with the chauffeur who had made the run.
"I'm the man, and that's the bunch," declared the chauffeur, as soon asTom had told the object of his mission.
"Where did you take them?" inquired Tom--"I mean where in Springville?"
"To the edge of a little city park," replied the chauffeur. "They mademe stop there to hide all later trace, I surmised; but it was none of mybusiness as long as I got my pay."
"Didn't you notice the boy they had with them?"
"I did," answered the chauffeur. "He was quite stupid like, as if he'dbeen doped. I suspected things weren't all straight and regular, but theman I heard called Brady kept telling me he was a runaway lad who hadmade all kinds of trouble and disgrace for his people."
Tom thanked the man for the information he had imparted, and at oncetook the trolley for Springville, which
was about twenty miles distant.When he arrived he had no definite plan of action outside of goingstraight to the local police in an effort to interest them in his story.
"I'll look around a bit first, though," Tom decided. "I may accidentallyrun across some hint or clew that may help me."
Tom strolled about the place, his eye on the alert. He had a faithfulmental picture of the ill-favored fellow he had caught spying on HarryAshley at Rockley Cove, and was sure he would recognize the rascal onsight.
He put in two hours in a stroll into such parts of the city which hefancied a man like Brady would choose in seeking a refuge. He chaseddown two or three persons a view of whose backs suggested the man forwhom he was looking. He had paused at a street corner as a greatjangling of bells and the shouts and hurryings of the crowds suggestedsome pending excitement.
"It's a fire," someone shouted, and pointed at dense volumes of smoke afew blocks away.
Tom started to cross the street in that direction.
Just ahead of him he casually noticed the hurrying figure of a bulkyclumsy-limbed man carrying a big, old-fashioned carpet bag.
"Hi! Out of the way, there!" shouted a sharp warning voice, as a fireengine turned the corner suddenly, bearing directly down upon theawkward pedestrian.
The man got flustered and made a forward spring. The satchel he carriedslipped from his grasp. He ran back to rescue it.
The ponderous rushing fire vehicle was fairly upon him. Tom instantlysaw his peril. There was only one thing to do, and our hero did itpromptly and effectively.
Making a forward dash at top speed, Tom fairly bunted into the stoopingman. With all his force he struck him, sending him sliding head overheels into the gutter.
The feet of one of the horses attached to the fire engine just grazedTom's heel, and, striking the carpet bag, lifted it ten feet in the air.It landed at the curb broken open, its contents scattering far and wide.
Tom slid against the prostrate owner of the satchel, picked himself up,and turned to ascertain the possible injuries of the man whose life hehad certainly saved.
There was, however, no gratified expression in the face of the man. Inutter concern and disgust he stared at his scattered possessions, wildlythrew up his hands in a frantic despairing gesture, and bolted out theechoing word:
"Donner! Donner!"