Larry Dexter and the Stolen Boy; or, A Young Reporter on the Lakes

by Howard Roger Garis

Certainly Larry was entitled to it, for he had worked hard on the case up to now, and there was much of danger and hard work ahead of him still. Then, too, he had not had much of a respite from the Wall Street bank mystery, which was one of the most baffling cases the young reporter had ever been called on to solve.

So it is no wonder that he began to take a little enjoyment out of the lake trip. It was simply a case of where he could do nothing, for there was nothing to do.

“Just the same, I’d like to know whether they brought the boy over this route?” Larry mused, as he looked at the waters of the lake, sparkling in the sun.

“Just think of it, they may have even come on this same steamer. That’s something I hadn’t thought of. I must look that up. The purser ought to know. I’ll have a talk with him.”

Larry laughed to himself. It was not five minutes ago that he had made a sort of vow that he would not worry or do any work until he got to Detroit, and here he was making labor for himself.

But he knew better than to leave the slightest thread loose, and when, by so simple a means as asking questions, he could learn whether or not the kidnappers had been on this steamer, he decided to do it.

The purser, however, could give him no information. He was obliging enough about it when Larry asked him, and went over his records from the date when Lorenzo was stolen down to the last trip. But, though innumerable boys appeared on the passenger list, none bore a description tallying with that of Madame Androletti’s son. Nor could the purser, who had not missed a trip on the boat in that time, recall any suspicious persons taking a boy away.

“Well, I’ve settled that much, anyhow,” thought Larry, as he turned in for the night. “Now to wait until I get to Detroit, and then—the tall chimneys. What a queer clew to locate a stolen boy?”

Larry slept peacefully, in spite of his busy brain that would not stop thinking of the case on which he was engaged. He awoke, after a trip along the Detroit River, to find Detroit looming up in the distance.

“Well, I’m ready for you!” he exulted, as he paced the deck. “If you’re there, Lorenzo, I’ll have you out of the hands of those scoundrels if it’s at all possible.”