CHAPTER XXIV
CORNERED
Tom Fairfield heard the sound of a struggle ahead of him in the blackness. He heard the panting of breaths, heavily drawn, and the impact of blows.
"I'm coming, Ray! I'm coming. Hold him!" yelled Tom. "Don't let him get away!"
"I—I won't, Tom!" was the answer. "But—hurry up!"
Tom sprang forward, but it was almost his undoing, for he slipped in the mud and went down heavily. For a moment he lay in the slime and water, with the rain beating on him, and the wind whipping about him, half stunned.
"Worse than ever!" he murmured, making a wry face. "Tve got to hop on and help Ray."
Just touching the toes of his injured foot to the ground, and hopping on his uninjured leg, our hero made his way forward to where he could hear the struggle going on between the tramp and the youth called Ray.
"Let go of me!" snarled the tramp. "I'll fix you for this!"
"You've nearly fixed me already, Jake," was the grim response. "I'm not going to let you go. Where are you, Tom?"
"Coming!" Tom hopped on, slipping and stumbling. As he neared the struggling figures he stepped on something round that rolled under his foot, and he picked it up. It was the tramp's flashlight, and an instant later Tom had focused the brilliant rays on the struggling figures. He saw that Ray had the man in a tight grip, while the ragged fellow was beating the lad in an endeavor to break the hold.
"That'll do!" cried Tom, and, thrusting the electric torch into his own pocket, he clasped the tramp's arms from behind. Then the battle was practically over, for the two lads could easily handle the man, whose breath was nearly spent from his running.
"Do you give up?" asked Tom, still holding the man's elbows.
"I s'pose I've got to," was the half-growled answer. "You've got me cornered."
"And you'll be cornered worse than this before I'm done with you!" said
Tom grimly. "Are you hurt, Ray?"
"Not much. A few scratches and some blows in the face. But what's the matter with you, Tom? You're lame."
"Yes, my ankle is on the blink—football game to-day; just before I got your letter. Oh, but I'm glad I reached you in time!"
"Yes, you just caught me. I'd been on my way West to-morrow. Oh Tom,
I can't tell you how sorry I am about it all!"
"Never mind. It's all right now, and all can be explained, I guess."
"Of course it can."
"Say, when you fellows get through chinnin' maybe you'll tell me what you're goin' to do with me?" snarled the tramp.
"We surely will," said Tom. "We're going to tie you up, and then send for the police."
"You are! Not if I know it!" With an angry cry the man endeavored to break from the hold of the two lads. But they were too much for the fellow, though the struggle was not an easy one.
"We'd better fasten him in some way," suggested Ray. "Rip off his coat, Tom, and tie his arms in it. Maybe we'd better call for help."
"Where could we get any?"
"At Appleby's house. I fancy the old man would be glad to meet Mr.
Crouse again," and Ray Blake laughed.
"Don't take me to him!" whined the tramp, now much subdued. "Take me to jail, but not to that old skinflint."
"I'm afraid we haven't much choice," said Tom. "No more fighting now, or we won't be so gentle with you."
It was a threat the tramp knew would be carried out, and he made no further attempt to escape. The two lads took off his ragged coat, and made it fast about the fellow's arms, tying them behind him. Then, walking on either side, while Tom flashed the electric torch at intervals, they turned back toward the farmhouse, our hero limping along as best he could.
"Hello! Hello, there Appleby!" yelled Tom, when they came within hailing distance of the building. It was still raining hard. "Hello there, show a light!"
There was a pause, and then a door opened, letting out a flood of illumination that cut the blackness like a knife. A voice demanded:
"What's th' matter? Who be ye, makin' a racket this time of night?
What right ye got on my land, anyhow?"
"That's all right, Mr. Appleby," put in Ray. "I guess you'll be glad to see us. We've got a man you've been looking for."
The tramp said nothing, but he did not make an effort to escape. Probably he realized that it was too late, now. His young captors advanced with him into the lighted kitchen of the farmhouse.
"Jake Crouse!" exclaimed the farmer. "Good land, where'd ye git him, boys? An' Ray Blake! Wa'al I never! Where'd ye pick him up?"
"In your lane," answered Ray. "We thought you'd be glad to see him."
"Me glad to see him?" exclaimed the puzzled farmer. "What for?"
"Because," answered Tom slowly, "he is the man who poisoned your horses, Mr. Appleby, and, unless I'm much mistaken, he also set fire to your hay ricks. I've got the evidence for the first charge, and———"
"I've got the evidence for the other," interrupted Ray. "It's all up, Jake. You'd better confess right now and save yourself heavier punishment."
"Good land!" gasped the farmer. "Jake Crouse—the feller who used t' work fer me—poisoned my horses—sot fire t' my hay? It don't seem possible!"
"I'd a done a heap more to you if I'd had the chance!" snarled the tramp. "You're the meanest man in seven counties, and you cheated me out of my money. I said I'd get even with you and I did."
"Then you admit you're Crouse?" asked Tom eagerly.
"Might as well, as long as you've got the goods on me. I'll take my medicine now, but I'll get back at you later, Jed Appleby!" and he shot a black look at the farmer.
"It will be some time before he can carry out that threat," said Tom easily. "Now, Mr. Appleby, I suppose you haven't a grudge against me any longer, as it's been proved that I had no hand in your troubles."
"No, of course not. I—I'm sorry I made a complaint against ye. But it did look mighty suspicious."
"Yes, it did," admitted Tom, "and I couldn't say anything, for certain reasons. But they no longer exist."
"I don't exactly understand it all," said the still-puzzled farmer, "but it's all right, an' I begs yer pardon, Tom Fairfield, an' here's my hand!" and he held out a big palm.
"That's all right," said Tom easily, as he shook hands. "I'll explain everything soon."
"And I'll do my share," added Ray. "I haven't acted just as I should in this matter. But I'm on a different road now."
"I hope so," put in Mrs. Appleby, who had been a silent spectator of the happenings. "I allers said you had a good streak in you somewhere, Ray Blake, and if you had a mother———"
"Please don't speak of her," the boy asked gently.
"Have you a telephone?" asked Tom, anxious to change the subject, for he saw that Ray was much affected. "If you have, we can 'phone for the authorities to call for our friend here," and he nodded at the tramp who, bound, sat in sullen silence.
"No, we don't have such luxuries," answered the farmer, "but I'll send one of my hired men into town. We can lock Jake up in the smoke house 'till the constable gets here."
This was done, Jake Crouse submitting sullenly. Then, when the hired man had driven off in the rain, the farmer and his wife insisted on providing dry garments for Ray and Tom, and in making them hot coffee.
In two hours the constable arrived, and only just in time, for the tramp had nearly forced open the smoke house door, and would soon have escaped. He was handcuffed, and driven to the town lockup.
"I'll appear agin' him to-morrow," said Mr. Appleby. "Now hadn't you boys better stay here all night? It's rainin' cats an' dogs."
"No, I must get back to the school," said Tom. "And I'd like Ray to come with me. I want him to help explain certain things to my chums. They know I'm not an incendiary, or a horse poisoner, but some others don't believe that."
"We'll soon make 'em!" exclaimed Ray.
"I'm with you Tom. I can't make up all you suffered on my account, but
I will do all I can."
"Wa'al, if ye will go back I s'pose I can't stop ye," said the farmer.
"I'll have Hank drive ye in, though."
Mr. Appleby's nature seemed to have undergone a sudden change. He was no longer mean and inhospitable. In a short time Tom and Ray were on their way in a covered carriage to Elmwood Hall.