CHAPTER XII
STARTLING NEWS FROM THE JUGGINS BOY
"Burr-r-r-r!"
That was the telephone bell ringing.
"Hugh, will you answer it, since the chances are the call is from some one of your numerous boy chums?" the voice of Mrs. Morgan came from the dining-room, where she was looking after the silver and china, after washing up the supper dishes, for they temporarily chanced to be without a hired-girl.
Hugh guessed as much himself. He had already been called to the phone several times since arriving home after his seven-mile spin. Once it had been Claude's mother, begging him to be sure and call at her house early in the morning, because she wanted to have a good, long, earnest talk with him about Claude's future; and also to let him know how brimful of gratitude a mother's heart could be toward the brave boy who, at the risk of his own life, had saved her only child for her.
Hugh had promised he would see her, although he expected to be very busy on the morning of the athletic tournament and then expressed the hope that Claude and herself would honor the tournament with their presence. This she hastily assured him she meant to do, because it was now borne in on her heart that she had been making a terrible mistake in reference to the way she was bringing up her darling Claude.
Needless to say, Hugh had chuckled joyously after that little talk. He guessed he would have little trouble now in removing the scales Mrs. Jardine had allowed to cover her eyes with regard to the benefits to be derived by any boy, no matter how weak he might be, through a judicious system of athletic exercises, the same to be lengthened as he gradually grew more capable of standing fatigue.
"Hello!" Hugh called.
A voice he immediately recognized as that of Horatio Juggins greeted him. "That you, Hugh?"
"Just who it is; what's the matter, Horatio? Feeling the effects of your little jog this afternoon? I hope not, for your sake, to-morrow."
"Oh! come off, Hugh," the other quickly replied. "I'd be a fine candidate for a fifteen-mile Marathon race, wouldn't I, if seven miles knocked me out? I'm as fit right now as a fiddle. But Hugh, can you come right over here now? Something dreadful has happened."
Hugh had a chilly feeling pass over him. It seemed as though some sort of bad news was coming. Had the great meet been called off, for some unknown reason or other? Somehow that struck him first as a dire possibility, since it would grievously disappoint thousands of eager boys and girls, not to mention many older folks with young hearts.
Now Hugh had intended to take that evening quietly, resting after his strenuous afternoon, and absolutely refuse to allow Thad, or any other fellow, to coax him outside the door. But already this resolve began to weaken. That dim mention of some possible tragedy happening started him going.
"Of course I can come over, Horatio," he told the boy at the other end of the wire; "and I'll do so right away on condition that it's no joke. Tell me what's up first."
"Oh! I meant to do that, Hugh," his friend hastened to say, and Hugh could detect a tremor to the boyish voice that told of excitement. "You see, it's K. K."
"What's happened to him?" demanded Hugh, his mind instantly suggesting all manner of terrible possibilities, from a sudden attack of sickness to an accident whereby his life might be in danger; for with boys these things sometimes happen as unexpectedly as a flash of lightning from a clear sky.
"Why, he never came back again from that run this afternoon, Hugh!"
Horatio was saying, in an awed tone now.
"What's that you're telling me?" exclaimed the astonished Hugh. "I thought I saw K. K. with some of the other fellows when I was starting home just before dusk came on, though, of course, I may have been mistaken about it."
"You were, Hugh, you certainly were," Horatio assured him in a softened tone. "His own mother ought to know, hadn't she? Well, she's over here at our house right now, crying her eyes out, and imagining all sorts of terrible things. You remember the Kinkaids live close by us; and she knew her boy was going to take the run this afternoon along with me, so she thought I could tell her if anything had happened to detain him. Why, she says K. K. never missed his supper before in all his life. It'd have to be something fierce to keep him away from his best meal of the whole day."
Hugh was thinking swiftly. He realized that this was no little matter to be dismissed as unimportant. Something certainly must have happened to detain K. K. for all this time. Several hours had elapsed since the other fellows reached the terminus of the long run at the athletic grounds. Why then had not K. K. shown up?
"Keep the rest till I get there, Horatio!" he told the other.
"Then you're sure coming, are you, Hugh?"
"Right away," Hugh added.
"Well, I'm glad, because you'll know what to do about it. And there's something else!"
"Yes?"
"I've got something to tell you that, say, I didn't have the heart to explain to K. K.'s mother, because she's bad enough frightened as it is; but it's looking particularly ugly to me, now that he hasn't come back. Oh! perhaps there is more'n a grain of truth in all those terrible stories those hayseeds tell about that place!"
Hugh put up the receiver with a bang, made a dash for his cap, slipped on his sweater, for he knew the night air was cold, and then shot out of doors. Somehow those last few words of Horatio, breathing of mystery as they did, had excited his curiosity until it now reached fever-pitch.
As he knew of several short-cuts across lots it took him but a few minutes to arrive at the Juggins home. Horatio was waiting at the door, and must have heard him running up the steps, for he instantly opened it to admit him.
"Gee, but I'm glad you've come, Hugh!" was his greeting. "She's in there with mother, and taking on awful about it. It's a dreadful thing to see a woman cry, Hugh. And I'm afraid there may be a good reason for expecting the worst."
"Tell me what you've got up your sleeve, Horatio," snapped Hugh, "and quit giving all these dark hints. You know something connected with K. K. that perhaps no one else does."
"Guess I do, Hugh; for he confided in me, and told me not to say anything to the rest. Oh, how foolish it was for K. K. to think he could do that big job two days in succession; but he said he was feeling equal to nearly anything; and just had to make the try, since the notion had gripped him. But come on over to my den, Hugh, and I'll tell you all about it. Then you must decide what's best to be done; and say, I hope you can soothe Mrs. Kinkaid a bit in the bargain."
Ten seconds later and the two boys found themselves ensconced in the room Horatio called his "den," although it was also his sleeping apartment. But he had fixed it as near like a boy's ideal of a lounging-place could be, the walls carrying the customary college pennants and a great variety of other things besides that gave them a rather crowded appearance. Evidently Horatio believed it added to the charm, for he never entered that "sanctum" without an involuntary smile of appreciation.
Horatio closed the door softly after him. Hugh had also noticed how he did this just as carefully when admitting him to the front hall; and as though he expected that this must have aroused a certain amount of curiosity, Horatio hastened to explain.
"You see, the poor woman is so excited, and in such a nervous condition, that she jumps up at the sound of a door closing, and starts to rush out into the hall, believing that Justin has got back home and hurried over to acquaint her with the joyous fact. Each time her disappointment leaves her worse than before. She will be needing Doctor Cadmus if this keeps on, as sure as anything."
"Well, what is it you want to tell me, Horatio?" demanded Hugh, not even taking the trouble to drop down into the chair the owner of the "den" shoved toward him; for it seemed as though he must soon be on the jump—there was evidently something hanging over their heads, which would be needing prompt attention.
"Why, it's just this, Hugh," began the other. "K. K. took a foolish notion he'd like to say he'd gone over the full course just for practice. And, Hugh. he told me he meant to make use of the short-cut that crosses the old haunted quarry!"
Hugh started, and looked serious.
"Then, if anything has happened to K. K., it must have been while he was crossing that mile tract between the two main roads," he went on to say, without hesitation. Horatio nodded his head eagerly.
"I jumped to that same conclusion, Hugh, only I didn't dare mention it to Mrs. Kinkaid. I thought you ought to know first of all, and decide on the program. It's terrible just to think of it; and K. K. actually pretended to make light, too, of all those stories the farmers have been telling about that awful place."
"Hold your horses, Horatio!" Hugh exclaimed. "When I said that I wasn't thinking of ghosts, or anything else unnatural. I meant that in all probability poor K. K. met with some ordinary accident while on that stretch, and has been unable to continue his run. He may have tripped on a vine he failed to see, and either broken his leg, or else sprained his ankle so badly that he can't even limp along. I've known such a thing to happen—in fact, once I got myself in the same pickle, and had to crawl two miles to a house, every foot of the way on hands and knees, because the pain was frightful whenever I tried to stand up. Well, the chances are K. K. has had such a thing befall him."
Horatio heaved a tremendous sigh, as though quite a weighty load had been taken off his chest.
"You make me feel a heap better, Hugh, when you're so positive," he hastened to admit. "I was afraid it might be something even worse than a sprain; but never mind what I thought. The question now is, what ought we do about it?"
"There's only one thing that can be done," Hugh told him in his customary straight-from-the-shoulder fashion, "which is for some of his chums to organize a searching party, get the old Kinkaid car out, and go up there to look over that abandoned road from one end to the other. We'll find K. K., or know the reason why."
"That sounds good to me, Hugh!" declared Horatio, always ready to follow where a bold leader showed the way; "and perhaps we may have an opportunity to discover whether there is any truth about those queer happenings the farmers keep telling of whenever the old quarry is mentioned in their presence."
"We'll not bother our minds about fairy stories," Hugh assured him. "What we're meaning to do is to look for a practical explanation of K. K.'s holding out. And, mark my words, the chances are ten to one we'll find the poor chap groaning alongside that road somewhere. But let's get busy now, Horatio!"