CHAPTER IX
GETTING EVEN
Little time was lost starting back for Cresville. The boys hoped to beat home that night, and planned to at once start at work remodellingtheir airship.
"And then we'll go to Danforth," decided Jerry.
"Maybe we won't be in time," objected Ned. "I don't want to miss Mr.Jackson again, if I can help it."
"Oh, that balloon and aeroplane meet will last for some time,"explained the tall lad. "Mr. Jackson is sure to be around there. We'llland him this time. It won't take long to fix up the _Comet_, if we allget to work on it."
"It will seem good again to go scooting through the air," observed Bob.
"Yes; no danger of killing diseased calves up above the clouds," agreedJerry, with a laugh.
"I wonder if we'll see anything of Mr. Sackett on our way back?" saidNed.
"Hope not," was Bob's comment, "though we will pass through TewkesburyTownship. I've seen all I want to of that swindler."
They stopped for dinner that day in the same hotel where the deputycattle inspector had told them of the trick Mr. Sackett had worked onthem, and, among the guests at the dinner table was the same deputyhimself.
"There's Mr. Rider," announced Jerry in a low tone to his two chums, asthe waitress helped them to some fried chicken. The inspector caughthis name, looked up, and saw the boys.
"Well, if there ain't the young fellows who go around buying condemnedcalves!" he exclaimed, getting up from the table to shake hands withthem and the professor. "I'm real glad to see you again," announced Mr.Rider, and he changed his plate over to their table, where he talkedinterestingly on many subjects.
"Have you seen anything of Mr. Sackett lately?" asked Jerry with asmile, as they finished dinner and sat in the hotel parlor for a restbefore starting on again.
"No, but I expect to soon. I've got to go out that way. The countyboard of health has another case against him, and I expect to be senton it within a day or two."
"What's it about--some more condemned calves?" asked Ned.
"No, it's chickens this time. He's got a big flock of what he claimsare pure-blooded buff Cochins, but they're not. They're a hybridstrain, and what's more they have an incurable disease. The troublewith Sackett is that he doesn't feed his stock right, nor take any careof it. That's why it's nearly all diseased.
"These chickens are particularly bad. They're nice-looking fowls, butas soon as they get to a certain age they die off. There are a lot ofchicken-raisers around Sackett's place, and they're afraid their flockswill catch the ailment. So I've been ordered to tell him to get rid ofall his fowls, disinfect his coops, and start all over. I know he'llkick like a steer, he's so miserly, but he'll have to do it."
"Has he got many chickens?" asked Bob.
"About two hundred, and he values them pretty highly, but they're notworth a dollar. If any one bought them they'd be stuck, for the fowlswould die inside of a month."
The deputy inspector told the boys several stories about Mr. Sackett,and also regaled them with the news of the vicinity. Then, as they didnot want to spend another night away from home, they said good-by anddeparted.
Jerry was driving the car, and they were going along at a good clip,when there came a sudden snap, and something seemed to be wrong. Thetall lad brought the machine up with a jerk, jumped out, and made ahasty examination.
"One of the small springs broken!" he announced ruefully.
"Can't it be fixed? Will we have to get out and walk?" asked Ned.
"It could be repaired if we were near a blacksmith shop," answeredJerry. "It isn't a bad break, and I can still go on, but not very fast,and it may get worse, if it isn't repaired."
"I don't see any blacksmith shop around here," observed Bob. "In fact,it wasn't far from here that we killed the calf, fellows."
"Don't mention it!" begged Jerry. "Well, I guess I'll take a chance,and go on slowly. We may come to a garage within a few miles, though Idon't remember seeing any on our other trip."
As they were about to proceed, they saw a farmer driving towardthem. He halted to learn the trouble, and to the delight of the boysannounced that there was a smithy about a mile farther on, down a sideroad.
The blacksmith shop was soon reached, and while the proprietor wasmaking the necessary repairs Jerry and his chums sat outside where anumber of men were gathered, listening to their talk. Mr. Snodgrass, ashas probably been guessed, was looking for bugs.
Quite a political discussion was under way among the loungers aboutthe smithy, when Ned, looking down the village street, saw a figureapproaching. There was something vaguely familiar about it. Themerchant's son nudged Jerry.
"Isn't that our friend Mr. Sackett, of Tewkesbury Township?" he askedin a low voice.
"It sure is," agreed the tall lad after a moment's inspection.
"He's coming here."
"Well, what of it?"
"Shall we tackle him about that calf?"
"By jinks! I've a good notion to. Wait until he gets here, and we'llsee if he knows us."
Mr. Sackett came on with a shuffling gait. He did not seem to observethe three boys, and they were thinking in what manner they could geteven with the miser for the mean trick he had played on them, when thegrizzled old farmer, addressing one of the men outside the blacksmithshop, said:
"Well, Jason Stearn, have ye made up yer mind t' take my flock of buffCochins? I've got t' know right away, fer I've got another offer fer'em, an' I can't wait on ye any longer. There's two hundred of th'finest hens in Tewkesbury Township, an' I'm lettin' ye have 'em at abargain."
Jerry and his chums were all attention at this, and as the miserlyfarmer had not yet noticed them, Jerry pulled Ned and Bob out of sightbehind a wagon, slipping along with them himself. From this vantagepoint they listened.
"Do ye want 'em, Jason?" went on Mr. Sackett.
"Wa'al, I've been thinkin' of it, Eb," drawled the man addressed. "Iwant t' git some nice hens, an' I like th' Cochins as well as any.What's yer lowest figger?"
"One hundred an' fifty dollars, jest as I told ye afore. They'rewuth two hundred ef they're wuth a cent--an' that's only a dollarapiece--cheap fer buff Cochins. Ye'll have t' speak mighty soon, ef yewant 'em. I come down this way special t' see ye."
"I'll give ye a hundred an' forty, Eb."
"All right, I'll take ye!" exclaimed the miserly farmer quickly. "Cashdown, mind ye."
"Yes, I'm willin' t' pay cash," agreed Mr. Stearn.
"An' ye'll have t' pay suthin' now, t' bind the bargain," went on Mr.Sackett eagerly. "Newt Porter an' Si Granberry will be witnesses thatye agreed t' take 'em."
"All right, Eb. Here's ten dollars. I'll pay ye th' rest when I comefer th' fowls."
Mr. Stearn was about to pass over a ten-dollar bill to Mr. Sackett whenJerry, with a nudge to his companions, stepped from behind the wagon,and confronted the miser.
"Hold on a minute, Mr. Stearn," said the tall lad calmly. "I wouldn'tbuy those chickens, if I were you."
"Not buy those chickens? Why not?" asked the prospective purchaser."They're a good flock, ain't they?"
"No, they're not," put in Ned.
"They're diseased and will die inside of a month," added Bob.
"Say, consarn ye! Who be you fellers, anyhow, puttin' in yer oars whereye ain't wanted, an' tryin' t' spoil a man's trade?" demanded Mr.Sackett with a snarl.
"Oh, I guess you know who we are well enough," spoke Jerry calmly, ashe stepped into plainer view. "We bought a calf of you at rather a highprice the other day, Mr. Sackett, and afterward learned that you wereordered to kill it!"
"Oh, them's th' fellers, eh?" remarked Mr. Stearn, while as for themiserly farmer, he started back in alarm at the sight of our heroes.
"What's that calf got t' do with my chickens?" he demanded roughly.
"A great deal," went on Jerry still calmly. "Those fowls are diseased,just as the calf was, and you know that your chickens have beencondemned, Mr. Sackett. You've been ordered by the health departme
nt toget rid of them, and this is the means you take--trying to sell them tosome one who will lose them all within a month.
"Don't buy those chickens, Mr. Stearn," went on Jerry eagerly. "Wemet Mr. Rider, the health inspector, a little while ago, and he toldus the whole story. It was he who told us about the condemned calf weaccidentally killed. Mr. Rider will be here in a few days to see thatthe flock of Cochins are disposed of, and if you don't want to throwyour money away, don't buy them!"
"That's not so!" cried Mr. Sackett. "You're tryin' t' make trouble ferme!"
"It _is_ true," declared Jerry quietly. "My two friends here heard thestory, and so did Professor Snodgrass. I'll call the professor," whichhe did, from down the road where the scientist was looking for strangeinsects.
"It is perfectly true," declared Mr. Snodgrass, "and I'm glad we are intime to prevent you from cheating some one else, Mr. Sackett. If yousell those diseased chickens it will be a swindle."
"Wa'al, they ain't all sick," asserted the farmer lamely, "an' I'mwillin' t' make a reduction, ef you'll take 'em, Jason. I tell yethey're fine fowl!"
This was practically an admission that the story of our heroes wastrue, and Mr. Stearn felt it to be so. He put his money back into hispocket.
"I guess we can't do no business, Eb," he remarked dryly. "I'm muchobliged to you young fellers fer warnin' me in time. I'd a-been badlystuck, with a lot of diseased hens on my hands. What do you mean bytryin' such a trick, Eb Sackett?"
"Wa'al, I didn't know th' hens was as bad as that," was the evasiveanswer. "I ain't had no official notice t' that effect."
"You knew it well enough, though," declared Jerry decisively.
"Wa'al, consarn ye, what right have ye got t' be mindin' my businessan' that of Jason Stearn fer, I'd like to know?" demanded the angrymiser, seeing his plans foiled.
"We've got every honest right," answered Ned.
"Besides, you made us pay for a calf that was no good," put in Bob.
"Oh! I wish I had holt of ye out at my place fer about five minutes!"muttered the angry man, as he shook his fist at the boys, and turnedaway, followed by the laughter of the loungers, who were glad tosee this turn to events. "I'd make ye smart fer this," declared Mr.Sackett, as he went back the way he had come. "Spoilin' a man'sbusiness this way. Them chickens is good enough fer anybody!"
"Then you keep 'em," answered Mr. Stearn, as he again thanked the boysfor the service they had done him.
"I rather guess this makes us about even on the calf deal," observedJerry grimly.
Later they learned that Mr. Sackett tried elsewhere, but unsuccessfully,to dispose of his fowls, and finally they all died on his hands, afterhe had spent considerable for medicine to cure them.