CHAPTER X
THE BORROWED ROLLER
Some twelve years before a large tract of marsh and meadow lying west of the town and southeast of the river where it turns toward the sea had been purchased by Mr. Jonathan Brent. At the time no one conceived that any of the land except possibly a few blocks just beyond A Street would ever be marketable as residence lots. But Mr. Brent had gradually filled in, driving back the twisting creeks that meandered about the land, until many acres had been redeemed. Several new streets were laid out and Mr. Brent, retaining for his own occupancy a full block between Sawyer and Troutman Streets, had built himself a very handsome residence. “Brentwood” was quite the finest mansion in Clearfield. When finished it was two blocks beyond the westernmost house in town, but it did not remain so long. Brent’s Addition proved popular and many citizens bought lots there and built, in some cases abandoning homes in the middle of town that were already being elbowed by business blocks. Between Main and Common Streets, three blocks north of “Brentwood,” two squares had been left undivided and this ground was now the High School Athletic Field. West of that, building had not progressed to any great extent as yet, although a few houses were scattered about the recently-made area. It was in this locality at about half-past nine that Saturday night Lanny, Gordon, Way and one other found the street rollers.
The fourth member of the expedition was Morris Brent. Morris, it seemed, had recalled the fact that he had left a tennis racket and some balls on the court at the side of the house and had gone out to bring them in. On his return he had chanced to look toward the front gate and had glimpsed the three figures going west along Troutman Street. There was nothing extraordinary about that, but Morris had been impressed with a certain stealthiness displayed by the trio, and had also caught sight of a tow head under the dim light of a street lamp. Thereupon Morris had abandoned racket and balls on the front steps and hastened after the conspirators, finding that his surmise as to the identity of the light-haired youth was correct. His advent was welcomed, the purpose of the expedition explained to him and the trio became a quartette.
Save Morris not a person was glimpsed from Gordon’s house to their destination. The only person they were likely to meet was the policeman on that beat, and, since he had to cover a deal of territory, and was known to have a partiality for the better lighted district nearest town, the boys considered their chances of evading him were excellent. Making certain that there was no watchman about, they approached the smaller of the two rollers and considered it. It would have to be turned around and run back a half-block to the next street, north two blocks and then east to the Common Street side of the athletic field. The first difficulty that presented itself was that, contrary to the statement of the engineer, the fire under the boiler was not banked. In fact, there was very little fire there. This was explained by Morris. Being Saturday, he said, the engineers had left their fires to go out so they would not have to tend them until Monday morning.
“Isn’t that the dickens?” asked Lanny. He lifted down a red lantern that hung from the engine and dubiously examined the steam gauge. “About ten pounds,” he muttered. “She won’t stir a step on that!”
“Guess, then, we’d better try it some other time,” said Way.
“No, sir, we’re going to do it to-night,” responded Lanny, after a moment’s consideration. “If we wait until the first of the week the field may dry off, and we want to roll it while it’s still moist. The only thing to do is to get this fire going and make steam. It’ll take some time, but we can do it.”
“Easy,” agreed Morris. Being newly admitted to the conspiracy, Morris was filled with enthusiasm. “Set the lantern down, Lanny, and I’ll shovel some coal on.”
“All right. I’ll rake it a bit first, though.” This was done and then, from the bin, Morris got several shovelfuls of soft coal and sprinkled it gingerly over the dying fire. Drafts were opened and the quartette sat down to wait. Fortunately, the night was fairly warm, otherwise the ensuing period might have been distinctly unpleasant, for this newer part of Brent’s Addition was beautifully level, and what breeze was stirring came across the land unimpeded by anything larger than the two-inch shade trees along the incipient sidewalks. They talked in low tones, keeping a careful watch meanwhile for the policeman. The last street light was at the end of the block and so, save for the lanterns left by the workmen, they were in the darkness. Lanny, though, pointed to the sky back of the town. “The moon’s coming up,” he said, “and I’d like mighty well to be inside the field before it gets in its work.”