Various - Golden Days for Boys and Girls, Vol. XIII, Nov. 28, 1891

V >> Various >> Golden Days for Boys and Girls, Vol. XIII, Nov. 28, 1891

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"Yes, Ray. I wouldn't have believed it had I not heard him confess it
with his own lips. He took it from the money that father left us and
sunk it in speculating."

"One more thing, Clyde. Why did you want to count the money we have? You
said it was for something very important."

"And so it is. Ray, you and I have got lots of work ahead of us. But I
mustn't stop to tell you about it now. Uncle is not telling the truth,
and is up to something, I am sure. I must find out what it is. He won't
let the night pass without hatching up some scheme to pull the wool over
my eyes. You stay around here and keep watch, and if he leaves the house
I will follow him."

CHAPTER V.

Uncle Ellis Seeks Advice.

Clyde stole down the stairs carefully and listened at the head of the
flight leading from the hall. As he had suspected, Uncle Ellis was going
out. He had just taken his hat from the rack and was walking toward the
door.

Clyde waited until his uncle had reached the street, and then followed.
The bright moon had gone behind a bank of clouds, but from the piazza he
could make out his uncle's form moving slowly up the street.

The house faced on the avenue running at right angles to the water. It
was situated midway between two streets which crossed it and ran through
the heart of the town, but a short distance away.

One of these streets Mr. Ellis turned into, and Clyde quickly took the
other one. He could move faster than his uncle, and by hurrying he could
reach the main street ahead of him.

This he did, and was awaiting his uncle behind a door not far from the
post office.

The post office was in a small building and occupied the lower floor. A
stairway next to the office ran to the second floor, and opening from
the hallway above was a small room, in which Mr. Lycurgus Sharp had his
office. There was a balcony in front of the lawyer's office.

Mr. Lycurgus Sharp was hanging about the post office, talking politics,
when Mr. Ellis reached that point.

Clyde was firmly convinced that his worthy uncle and the lawyer would be
in consultation before long, and he was also convinced that the topic of
conversation would be the ten thousand dollars. He was even more firmly
convinced that he was right when the two men came out of the post office
and walked up the stairs to the lawyer's room above.

Clyde did not like the idea of playing the spy, but if his uncle was
engaged in a scheme to rob him, he certainly had a right to know it,
and, with no twinges of conscience, he stole up the stairs, and when all
was quiet he crawled out upon the balcony.

The night was hot, and Mr. Sharp's window was partially raised, but
protected by a blind.

"Those confounded boys have discovered everything," Clyde heard his
uncle say. "I would like to know how they did it. You haven't been
talking, have you?"

"What! _Me_ talk? _Me_, did you say?" exclaimed Mr. Lycurgus Sharp,
dramatically.

"Then how did they find out that I have been speculating?" demanded the
other, sharply.

The lawyer shrugged his shoulders.

"That's your lookout," he said, carelessly. "Perhaps they overheard us
talking this afternoon."

"Great Scott! I hope not," cried Mr. Ellis, excitedly. "No, I don't
believe that! No one was around at the time. I think they must have
heard a rumor somewhere--where, I don't know, but would give a heap to
find out. If those boys get a notion like that they will spread it
everywhere, and I shall be ruined. What can I do to stop them off?"

The lawyer shrugged his shoulders again.

"I have promised to show them the will and explain where all the money
is," added Mr. Ellis.

"Which you can't do," broke in the lawyer, abruptly.

"Which is only a blind to gain time," the other frowned. "I am sorry I
ever got into this speculation now; but I am in it, and I have got to
make that money good, somehow. I can do it in time, I am sure; but if
these boys get to talking, I can't tell what will happen."

"Well," said Mr. Sharp, "I suppose you must get rid of them for a time.
That is about what you are driving at, I apprehend?"

"That's about the size of it, but how?"

Mr. Sharp picked up a newspaper that was lying on his table and turned
to the shipping advertisements.

"I see here," he said, "the advertisement of a vessel to sail to-morrow
for Australia."

"What of that?"

"What of that! Why, everything of that. Can't you see through a
barn-door, when the door is open for you?"

"You mean, send the boys to Australia?"

The lawyer nodded.

"Could you want anything better? They would be gone a long time. You can
take them to New York to-morrow and ship them off in the afternoon. Put
them before the mast. Make sailors out of them."

"Nobody would take them for sailors," remarked Mr. Ellis, doubtfully.

"What of that? Go to the captain and tell him that you have two boys who
are wild. Tell him you don't want to send them to the reform school, but
would like to have them put under the discipline of a big ship. Pay him
to take them, and he will jump at the chance, and break them in for you,
I'll warrant."

Clyde's cheeks burned with resentment. His heart was going like a
trip-hammer. Could it be possible that his uncle would lend himself to
such a villainous scheme? He could scarcely refrain from jumping through
the window and denouncing the plotters to their very faces.

He did not have to wait long to discover his uncle's sentiments.

"Sharp," said Mr. Ellis, "you have a great head. I do admire you, upon
my word! If I had one-half of your ability for villainy, I would have
been rich long ago."

"Thank you," retorted the lawyer, coolly. "But you can bet that I never
used other people's money to speculate with."

"The less said about that the better," replied the other. "I shall pull
out of this all right if I am given time. But now to business. How am I
going to get those boys aboard? They may suspect something."

"Oh, well, if you haven't got any inventive faculty at all, you had
better quit, go down on your knees, ask your nephews' pardon, and live
happily ever after. To tell you plainly, that is just what I would do.
But if you are dead set on getting rid of them, why, I am paid to give
you advice, and here it is. You have promised to show them the will
to-morrow. Tell them that it is necessary to go to New York to see it.
There you can take them to some office for a blind, and, while you are
there, you can have a letter sent to you, or pretend to have, from an
old friend who is going to Australia and wants you to see him off. It
will be the easiest thing in the world to ask the boys to accompany you,
and, once aboard, you can lock them up, and there they are."

"That's the talk. They shall be there," exclaimed the delighted
speculator.

"Only they won't," thought Clyde, from his perch in front of the window.

"Look here," said Mr. Ellis, nervously. "Since this thing has begun, I
am suspicious of everything. No one could have heard us, could they?"

"The door is shut, as you see," replied the lawyer, "and I don't think
anybody saw us come up here."

"The window is open," suggested Mr. Ellis.

He got up from his chair and walked to the door.

Clyde saw him open it and leave it open, then turn to the window as if
he meant to do the same thing with it.

The boy was in a trap. It would never do to be caught there. To think
with him was to act. He stepped over the balcony and hung from the floor
by his hands. There was no one on the sidewalk beneath, and, letting go,
he dropped lightly to the ground, just as his uncle stepped out upon the
balcony above.

He pulled himself into a shadow and stood motionless.

Mr. Ellis was apparently suspicions. Perhaps he had heard something. At
all events, he looked down and up and in all directions without becoming
any wiser for it.

The moment his head disappeared from sight, Clyde stole away. He was hot
with excitement and anger.

CHAPTER VI.

Clyde and Ray Prisoners.

James T. Leeds, broker, sat upon the veranda of the seaside hotel, with
his feet on the railing and his chair tilted back.

He was at peace with himself and with all the world. In fact, the world
had been treating him nicely of late. His "flyers" in Wall Street and in
the wheat market had been successful. He had been making money rapidly,
and this is why he smiled as he lighted his cigar.

Mr. Leeds liked the little seaside town, and was sure to drop in upon it
as soon as the warm weather set in.

It was so near New York that he could reach the city in a few minutes.
He had expected to get a good deal of enjoyment out of the yacht that he
had bought, but, as we have already seen, it had proved a dismal
failure.

He could not learn to manage it himself, and if the water was at all
rough the motion made him sick. So he had reluctantly come to the
conclusion that the water had no charms for him.

Mr. Leeds was in the midst of a calculation of his profits of the next
day, should Erie Railroad stock jump up a couple of points, as he
confidently expected that it would do, when a boy, panting and red in
the face, suddenly appeared by his side.

"Hullo, Clyde! What is the matter with you _now_?" he inquired.

And his feet came down from off the railing and the legs of the chair
settled upon the plank with a thump.

"I--I want to speak to you," panted the boy.

"Well, speak away. I'm listening."

Clyde shook his head.

"No, not here," he said, with due regard to the danger of talking over
private matters where an unsuspected ear might be within hearing
distance. "This is very important."

"It must be," said the broker, with a little laugh. "Well, come to my
room."

The broker led the way to a room that looked out upon the water.

Clyde walked to the window to see that there were no convenient porches,
and then drew a chair up to the table and sat down.

"Now," said the broker, "go on."

Clyde hesitated a moment. He really did not know how to begin. Finally
be got started:

"Mr. Leeds, you said to-day that you had got tired of the yacht, did you
not?"

"That's what I said," replied the broker. "Did you bring me up here to
tell me that?"

"You said you were going to sell the Orion, did you not?"

"No, I did not. I said I was going to smash her up. But I have thought
better of that. I'm going to load her up with pitch and anchor her off
in the stream and set fire to her. I am going to do that on the Fourth
of July, and have a celebration all to myself. Won't that be fun?"

"I thought you would perhaps take her around to New York and sell her.
If you were going to do that--"

"Oh, but I'm not going to do anything of the sort. I am not in the
yacht-selling business. I wouldn't be bothered with her. But what is all
this about, anyway?"

"Well, then, to come to the point, I want to buy her."

"_You_ want to buy her! Well, that _is_ a good one. Do you know what I
paid for the Orion?"

"No, sir."

"Well, she cost me just one thousand dollars. How much are you willing
to give for her?"

Mr. Leeds looked at the well-worn garments of the would-be purchaser and
smiled.

"What will you sell her for?" asked Clyde.

"Come, now, is this a joke, or what?" grinned the broker. "Has your
uncle suddenly opened his heart, or have you come into possession of
your property?"

"Neither," replied the boy, gravely, "but if you will sell me the yacht
on a note--"

"On a note, eh? Well, isn't this rich? What is your note worth?"

"Nothing, I know, Mr. Leeds; but it will be some day. I can't pay you
now, but when I am old enough to draw a note I will pay it."

The broker looked at the boy steadily for a moment.

"Clyde, something is up," he said. "What is it?"

"It all comes out of that 'pointer' you gave me this afternoon. I am
going to leave home to escape being driven away."

"Phew!" whistled the broker. "Tell me about it."

And Clyde went over the whole story from beginning to end, and gave a
graphic description of the plot to send him to Australia.

"Well, this is about the worst I ever heard," was Mr. Leeds' comment,
when the recital was finished. "I couldn't have believed your uncle
would have gone to such extremities. Well, we must block that game. We
can haul him into court and prove a conspiracy."

"No," objected Clyde, "that wouldn't do at all. Of course, my uncle
would deny the whole thing, and then, when it had all blown over, off I
would go."

"But what do you intend to do?"

"I believe that my father is still alive. One of the men who was with
him thinks it is possible. I shall never be satisfied until I have made
an investigation, and I want to take him and go to the Caribbean Sea. I
thought if you would sell me the yacht on credit I would go."

"Well, I won't sell the Orion," declared the broker.

Clyde's hopeful countenance fell.

"I said I wouldn't, and I won't. But you can have her, and everything
aboard of her--that is, if she is fit to go on such a cruise."

Clyde's eyes filled with tears.

"You are too good. I can't take it unless you will let me pay for it
when I can."

"Nonsense! Don't talk that way. I never was good in my life, and I think
it won't hurt me any to do a little thing like that. The Orion is of no
use to me, and, unless you do take her, I shall run her on the rocks and
set her on fire, as sure as I am alive. But what are you going to do for
money? You can't go anywhere without money?"

"Ray and I have got thirty dollars between us."

"Thirty fiddlesticks! Here," and the broker pulled out a well-filled
pocket-book and counted out some bills--"here are three hundred dollars.
You will have to fit the yacht up for a long cruise. There! don't make
any objections. I owe you something for helping me out of a bad scrape
to-day. You can promise to pay me if you like, and, when you come into
possession of your property, you can do so. But never mind the note. It
isn't worth anything, anyway, and I can trust you, I'm sure. Now, who is
this man that you say will go with you?"

"I don't know his name. Tom, the fisherman, calls him Old Ben. He was
the boatswain on my father's ship."

"Well, I want to see him. Come with me."

The two strolled over to the fisherman's cabin, where Tom and Ben were
found smoking their pipes and telling each other sea stories. It did not
take Mr. Leeds long to come to the point, and, when the whole story had
been repeated, the broker asked the fisherman whether the Orion could be
relied upon to make such a trip.

"Well, there's a risk about it, of course," was the reply; "but the
Orion is a mighty fine boat--mighty fine. She would stand up before a
good stiff gale, and Old Ben, here, is just the man to handle her."

"Well, then, Old Ben, will you go along and run her?" asked the broker.

"Now, I ain't a holdin' out any promises that we will find the cap'n,"
and the old salt shook his head. "It's my opinion that the chances is
all agin' it. But if the youngster wants to go, and as Tom says the boat
is a good one, why, I don't mind makin' the trip. It may be there is
something behind it all and that the cap'n is still alive; but, as I
said--"

"I don't ask you to go for nothing, you understand," interrupted the
broker.

He took out his pocket-book again and selected five twenty-dollar
bills.

"You don't make more than twelve or fifteen dollars a month before the
mast. Here are one hundred dollars, and if you find the cap'n, there is
more for you."

"Thankee, sir," said the boatswain, with a bob of the head. "But I
didn't expect that. I would have gone without it. Yes, I will go, and we
will find the cap'n, if he's in the land of the livin'. If he ain't,
why, then--he ain't; and that's all there is about it."

"We shall have to get off in the morning; or, rather, as soon as
possible," said Clyde, delighted with the prospect. "My uncle will have
me in his clutches to-morrow, and if he gets hold of me there may be
trouble."

"I think that is the best way," approved the broker. "You will need some
stores, but you cannot get them here. You will have to run in to New
York and take them aboard."

"Yes, that's right," assented Old Ben.

"And you had better take out papers that will allow you to cruise as a
yacht. I will have the Orion made over to Clyde, so he will be your
owner, and you will find him a good sailor as well."

"If he is anything like his father, he will do," said the boatswain.
"Well, Tom and me will overhaul the yacht, and I will go aboard at once.
Just as soon as the cap'n boards us we will start."

"That's the way I like to hear a man talk," commented the broker. "I
will go back to the hotel and turn the yacht over to Clyde, in writing,
and bring it to the Orion myself. Now, Clyde, go and get ready, and
return some time before morning."

"I will be there!"

And the happy boy sped away toward home with visions of all sorts of
adventures flitting before his imagination.

He had found his father half a dozen times before he reached his room on
the third floor, and broke in on his brother with his face flushed with
excitement.

"Get ready, Ray," he cried.

"Get ready for what?" asked his surprised brother.

"To go to sea. We are going on a long cruise."

"Look here, Clyde Ellis, are you crazy?"

"Not a bit of it," replied Clyde, cheerily. "Listen."

And rapidly he detailed the occurrences of the day. Before he had quite
finished there was a step in the hall, and a moment later Uncle Ellis
appeared at the doorway.

"Not gone to bed yet?" he asked.

He seemed to be laboring under a heavy strain, and it was with
difficulty that he controlled himself.

"Not yet," replied Clyde.

And his heart sunk like the mercury in the thermometer upon the approach
of a cold wave, a presentiment of coming danger.

"You have been out to-night?" queried the uncle.

"Yes, sir."

"Where have you been?"

And his uncle eyed him sternly.

"I have been over to the hotel."

"Where else?"

"Oh, around town a bit!"

"I am almost afraid to trust you after what you told me this evening.
After I have shown you the will to-morrow, which I will do in New York,
I have no fears that you will talk; but, until then, I think it best to
keep you under my eye. To-morrow you shall know all."

Clyde thought it very likely that his uncle would also be the wiser in
the morning, but he did not say so.

Mr. Ellis pulled the key from the door and placed it in the lock on the
outside; then he stepped out and closed the door after him. The next
instant he had turned the key, and his retreating footsteps were heard
along the hallway.

Clyde jumped to his feet and tried the door. It was firmly locked.

He staggered back to the bed and threw himself upon it, burying his face
in his hands.

"Trapped!" he cried, bitterly. "Just when everything is ready, we are
prisoners and there is no help for it!"

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

[_This story began in No. 48._]

KIDNAPPED:

or,

The Adventures of Jason Dilke.

by J. W. DAVIDSON,

Author of "Hardy & Co.," "Rob Archer's Trials,"
"Limpy Joe," "Harry Irving's Pluck,"
"Mind Before Muscle," "Squid,"
etc., etc.

CHAPTER XVII--[Continued.]

The Witch was not long in overhauling the Swan. Arno, seeing that escape
was out of the question, surrendered without a word.

"It's no use trying to get away," he said to Jason, "and we may as well
yield without a struggle. There is nothing can outsail that schooner.
I've a great mind to throw that money overboard."

"It wouldn't be of any use," replied Jason. "Perhaps they are following
us just to see who we are."

Arno shook his head at this.

"I think you'll find that Buxton is on board that vessel," he said,
looking steadily at the approaching craft. "Yes, there he is," he
continued, "though he doesn't know anything about the money."

Immediately after the capture of the Swan, Judith, Sandy McDougall and
Shaky took possession of her, the latter having paid Buxton for the
trouble he had been to. Then the Witch bore away to the northward.

Judith seemed overjoyed at seeing Arno again, all her resentment
apparently being swallowed up in the gratification she felt in once more
meeting with him. She clasped her great, strong arms about him, and held
him as though she feared losing him again.

As for Sandy and Shaky, they paid no heed whatever to the two boys. As
soon as the Witch had left the sloop, they ran the latter in among the
islands and dropped anchor.

Here they remained during the afternoon and night, the cabin of the
little vessel being given up to Judith, the men and boys sleeping in the
compartment in the bow.

When morning came, they put to sea again and sailed down the coast. Arno
and Jason had little opportunity for conversation, so close was the
vigilance of Judith.

It was considerably past noon when Sandy announced that the Petrel was
in sight, and then the little hatch in the deck forward of the mast was
raised, and Arno and Jason ordered to descend.

Realizing how helpless they were, the two boys offered no resistance,
and they soon found themselves in complete darkness, save for a faint
glimmer of light that came through a little port-hole opened for
ventilation.

"What's going to happen next?" asked Jason, throwing himself down upon
the blankets that had formed their bed the preceding night.

"It's hard telling," replied Arno, creeping forward and peering through
the little opening. "I can see the Petrel, and Captain Dilke is at the
bow."

At the mention of this name, Jason trembled, and shortly after Arno
announced that the schooner was close alongside.

Then they heard the sail flapping, and knew that the sloop had been
brought up to the wind, and presently there was a shock, as though some
heavy body had bumped against the Swan.

"It's all up with us," said Arno, leaving the little port-hole and
casting himself down beside his companion.

The trampling of heavy feet sounded upon the deck, the sides of the
vessels grated together as they rose and fell with the motion of the
water, and down in the little hold of the sloop the two boys lay and
waited tremblingly.

CHAPTER XVIII.

An Unexpected Catastrophe.

If Captain Dilke feared that the Swan would endeavor to escape, he was
entirely mistaken. As the two vessels drew near together, he was greatly
surprised to see Sandy and Shaky instead of Arno and Jason.

Sandy was at the tiller of the Swan and Martin held the wheel of the
Petrel.

Stifling his curiosity, Captain Dilke gave his orders, and soon the two
vessels lay side by side, Shaky making the sloop fast to the schooner.

Then Captain Dilke leaped on board the Swan, leaving Martin on the
Petrel, both vessels drifting with the wind.

"How did you come in possession of this craft?" demanded Captain Dilke,
striding aft to where Sandy stood.

The Scotchman made no answer, and Captain Dilke repeated his question.

At this moment some one grasped him by the arm, and, turning, he met the
angry gaze of Judith.

Vainly he strove to break away. Her arms were like bands of steel, and
pinioned his own close to his side.

Then he was thrown to the deck, a handkerchief tied over his mouth by
the Scotchman and his arms and legs bound with a stout cord, rendering
his struggles utterly useless.

After this he was half-dragged down the companion-way and left, lying
helpless, upon the cabin floor.

While this was transpiring on board the Swan, Shaky had boarded the
Petrel.

Martin greeted him surlily, as he came aft.

"What's the row on the sloop?" asked Martin. "I heard a scuffle of some
kind, but couldn't see what was going on from here."

"Nothing," replied Shaky, his grimacing and stammering having deserted
him entirely, "only a slight change in commanders. You are now under my
orders."

At this Martin flushed angrily and took a step toward the man who had
addressed him with so much confidence.

Then his face changed, his eyes dilated, his hands fell nervelessly by
his side. Fear took the place of anger.

"You are--it can't be," he gasped, staring into the face of the man
before him.

"You remember me, I see," replied the other, coolly. "They call me
Shaky; but you are right."

"Does Captain Dilke know who you are?" asked Martin, whose bearing was
now one of abject humility.

"Not yet; but he will know soon enough. Just at present he is in a
somewhat uncomfortable predicament. The last I saw of him, your wife and
Sandy were dragging him down into the cabin of the Swan."

At this Martin's face turned fairly livid.

"Is Judith on board?" he gasped. "I'll do anything you say, only be
merciful. It was so many years ago, and I have been sorry for it a
thousand times."

"I see you are quite repentant now," smiled the man, whom we will still
call Shaky. "Here comes your wife now. We had a long tramp through from
your home to Whiting, though she stood the journey as well as any of
us."

Martin looked up and saw Judith coming toward him, and he stood like a
guilty boy expecting the punishment which he knows he richly merits.

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