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

by Howard Roger Garis

Riding in the subway and the elevated trains to Bronx Park, Larry strolled through that, looking at the animals, but not thinking about them. Then he branched off into what was as near the country as any place so near a large city could be. It was in the West Farms section of the old city of Manhattan, a place of historical interest, but Larry thought little of this now. His mind was too busy with thoughts of the stolen boy.

Leaving behind the big apartment houses, which were springing up on every side, the young reporter soon found himself in a comparatively quiet spot, and he walked along what was once a country road.

“It’s nicer here than in the city,” reflected Larry. “It’s like where we used to live. I almost wish I was back on the farm again. This being a reporter, and solving mysteries, isn’t what it’s cracked up to be. But I’m not going to quit now,” and he shut his teeth with dogged determination.

Larry walked on for some distance, getting farther and farther away from the turmoil of the city. But if he had hoped that the quiet would help him to think better, or aid him to hit on some plan for finding the stolen boy, he was doomed to disappointment. The more he puzzled over the mystery the more tangled up he became.

“Where is he?” he murmured to himself. “Where is Lorenzo? Why can’t I get some trace of him?”

Looking down the road Larry saw a cloud of dust approaching. At first he took it to be some one on a motorcycle.

“Guess I’ll get on the other side,” he mused, “so I won’t get so much of the dust.”

He was about to cross over, when he saw that the cloud was caused by an elderly man, driving a rather dilapidated wagon, attached to a somewhat bony horse. The man was urging the animal to top speed, which was not saying much.

“In something of a hurry,” said Larry to himself. “The truck farmers around here aren’t usually that way.”

For the outfit looked like one belonging to a small gardener, and Larry, looking about him, saw several cultivated patches of land that, one day, would be sites for big apartment houses.