CHAPTER VIII
THE SURVEYING SQUAD
Terrill's words about "no foolin' with that kid," coupled with his startled look when he beheld the fragments of clothing, had started a train of reasoning in the constable's mind. All he said to Tom, however, was: "Come with me, boy. I'm not hankering for Bill's company just now, though I may be keen to see him later. Come along."
Turning another corner, he led Tom across a vacant lot to a small, unkempt, dingy old house at the end of the path. In the yard of this dwelling a woman was hanging clothes on a line and a number of mongrel hens were taking dust baths under some lilac bushes. The breeze wafted the fragrance of these blossoms to Tom's nostrils as he and Thompson approached them.
"Hello, Mrs. Terrill!" said Thompson. "Busy day for you, eh? Why don't you make Bill help you with the wash?"
"Bill's got enough to do washin' his innerds—-with liquor!" gruffly retorted the woman, who seemed to be greatly vexed, even angry, at the mention of her husband's name. "And just as if I haven't put up with him time and time again about it! I won't do it no more! And him daring to complain about my cookin' and my not mendin' his clothes! Why, this mornin' he come home late, with his coat all torn and his——-"
"What?" almost shouted Thompson. "What did you say, there m'am?"
—-"I said his coat was all torn," repeated Mrs. Terrill, pleased to find a listener who appeared to be sympathetic. "You know how 'ternal careless he is, Mr. Thompson, and how much trouble he gives me."
"I do, I do indeed." The constable slowly drew out of his pocket the clews Tom had given him. "Could this be a piece out o' Bill's coat?" he asked in an offhand manner calculated to avert suspicion.
"That's it!" exclaimed Bill's long-suffering wife. "What of it?" she added quickly. "Anything wrong? I guess he must've got into a fight, his face was so battered, but I hope——-"
"Hold on, Mrs. Terrill! Enough said!" interposed the constable, who felt sorry for the way he had led her into a trap. "I made a bet about these rags, and now I'm going to put it up to Bill. Do you know where I can find him?"
"No, I don't, but I guess you know," the woman replied sharply.
"What's your bet?"
"I'll tell you bye and bye, if I win," said Thompson, with a forced laugh, as he and Tom walked away. "Now, boy, you heard what she said," he continued, when they were out of earshot. "You witnessed when she identified these rags. I reckon Bill Terrill's our man."
As quickly as possible they returned to the corner, where Thompson dived into the saloon, only to reappear after a few minutes—-alone.
"Friend William has skipped out," he declared grimly. "His pals are in there, but our naughty little bird has flown! Never mind; I'll get him. He's either skulking around town somewhere or he's made tracks to the station, hoping to get the 2.10 to New York. You said you were on your way to the station, didn't you? I'll go there first with you."
Sure enough, when the train pulled in at the station, there was Bill Terrill waiting to board it! He had not counted on such quick work on the constable's part, and was not aware of the assistance his own wife had unwittingly rendered, so he had merely tried to get away before he was "spotted" among the crowd of idle men and boys gathered on the station platform. When he felt Thompson's heavy hand on his shoulder, he started, tried to dodge him and escape, and, failing to do that, broke into a torrent of vile oaths and half-drunken protests as he was escorted away to the village jail.
Meanwhile, having told Thompson where he and Ralph and Art could be found if wanted later, Tom saw the Scout Master and four boys making their way over to the side of the platform, where a bus was waiting to take them to the hotel. He was just in time to join them, and soon he was telling his story to Denmead.
"That's a good idea of yours, Tom," said the Chief, when Tom had finished. "I'll find out how many of the boys know anything about surveying, and then I'll go and see Mr. Brett, one of the railroad officials, and learn what can be done. I'd like to help your friend Ralph Kenyon. I was sorry to hear that he met with an accident lately. It's a shame he killed those splendid eagles! Professor Whalen showed them to me. Why, I'd have been only too glad to pay the lad well for the privilege of studying the birds in their wild state. He ought to have protected them, as a Scout would do, not killed them! But Dr. Kane told me it was his suggestion to Ralph."
"Yes, sir; so I understand," Tom answered. "Ralph isn't a scout, you know, sir; and he needed the reward the professor offered—-needed it in a hurry—-so he earned it honestly, even though he'd have chosen not to shoot the birds. He said he was mighty sorry afterward."
"I'm glad to know that. I thought he'd regret it. Well, we won't cry over spilled blood now; it's much too late. By the way, how's he getting along?"
"Great, sir; he was able to walk around a little, without his cane, when Arthur and I left him this morning."
"Are you going back to the farmhouse until we start for camp?" inquired Denmead.
"If you've no objections, sir."
"None at all, my boy, as long as you can help your friend. You must ask him to visit us in camp when he has time."
"I will, I will!" exclaimed Tom. "I know he'd enjoy it."
"And if this surveying scheme of yours—-or was it Ralph's?"
"Both, sir. At least, we talked it over together."
"If it can be carried out, and if the railroad will buy part of
Ralph's farm, he will be able to go to the School of Mines?"
"Yes, sir, that's what he wants to do. You don't think, then, that there's any chance of finding iron ore on the property?"
"How should I know? Stranger things than that have happened, Tom."
Talking thus, they reached the hotel. Denmead was immediately surrounded by his troop of scouts, to whom he introduced the new recruits, and presently they all fell to discussing plans for the summer.
As the afternoon waned, Tom made ready to drive back to the farmhouse, declaring that he knew the way perfectly, and even if he didn't, old Keno wouldn't make any mistakes. Arthur decided to stay with the others at the hotel, but Tom did not mind this at all, being quite willing to return alone. The Scout Master promised to send word just as soon as he had interviewed Mr. Brett, or his secretary.
"If, for any reason, we should decide to go direct from here to Pioneer Camp, and should not go up around Silver Lake and thence to Ralph's farm, to call for you, Tom," he added, "I will send Joe to the farm, and he will guide you to camp through the backwoods north of Pioneer Lake. That will be an interesting experience for you, and Joe is good company. Take good care of yourself, my boy, until we all meet again at camp."
"Certainly. Good-bye, all!" Tom sprang into the buggy and gathered up the reins. "Good-bye!" he called out again as Keno turned and trotted up the road at a brisk rate.
They watched him until horse and buggy were silhouetted against the sky on the brow of the hill; and, when he vanished down the further side in a hollow, they separated into little groups and went their ways in search of amusement.
Tom made the long drive homeward without further adventures. It was after sundown when he arrived at the farm and found Ralph, who was really an excellent cook, preparing supper. Broiled chicken, sweet potatoes, asparagus and radishes grown under glass, custard pudding—-it was a feast for these healthy, famished youths, and they did ample justice to it; so ample, in fact, that each had to let out his belt one notch! And what a good talk they had over the events of the day! Tom was as interested in hearing all about what Ralph had done and seen as Ralph was in Tom's more varied account.
The fact that Bill Terrill was the thief did not greatly surprise Ralph. However, he feared that very little, if any, of his money would be recovered, when he learned that Bill and his cronies had been drinking together. In this, we may add, Ralph was happily disappointed, for a few days later he received from Constable Thompson a crumpled ten-dollar bill,—-the remains of the stolen hoard!
The news that Scout Master Denmead would personally take up the matter of the survey was a great satisfaction to Ralph. It was more than that, it was a source of the most rosy-hued hopes and dreams in which he had indulged himself for many a long day. Almost the last thing Tom said to him before dropping off to sleep was:
"The Chief'll persuade 'em to do it, I know he will. He can do anything. He's great!"
And that night Ralph dreamed that his farm, all of it which was not bought by the railroad, was converted into a great mine in which scores of men were at work.
* * * * * * *
Two days later a party of four men drove into the farmyard, with axes, tape, level and other implements for surveying. They began operations at once and did not cease until close of day, when, declining Ralph's invitation to spend the night, they returned to Oakvale. On the following day they came back, with another squad. Of this squad Blake Merton was lineman and George Rawson rodman. The second squad began working from the eastern boundary of the Kenyon farm, and Tom spent part of the day with them. Ralph could not walk far, as yet, though with every day his ankle was getting stronger.
Each night so long as the work of the survey lasted, Rawson,—-who with Blake had accepted Ralph's invitation to stay at the farm,—-spent an hour or two with the three boys, going over with them the methods of surveying and explaining the local geological formations.
Meanwhile, at Pioneer Camp, Lieutenant Denmead was giving similar daily instruction to the troop, with frequent brief trips for practical demonstration. He had not thought it best to ask that more of the scouts might assist in the railroad survey, fearing that they would hinder the trained workers. But Rawson and the boys were to give the rest a detailed report of their work on their return to camp.