“THERE HE IS!” CRIED LANKY EXCITEDLY, POINTING TO THE MOTOR BOAT THAT LOOMED DIRECTLY IN FRONT OF THEM

Frank Allen and His Motor BoatFrontispiece (Page [203])

FRANK ALLEN AND
HIS MOTOR BOAT

OR
Racing to Save a Life
BY
GRAHAM B. FORBES
Author of “Frank Allen’s Schooldays,” “Frank
Allen—Pitcher,” “Frank Allen at
Rockspur Ranch,” etc.

GARDEN CITY NEW YORK

GARDEN CITY PUBLISHING CO., INC.

1926

COPYRIGHT, 1926, BY
GARDEN CITY PUBLISHING COMPANY, INC.
MADE IN U. S. A.

FRANK ALLEN
AND HIS MOTOR BOAT

CHAPTER I

TUNING THE ROCKET

“Cunningham really wants a race, does he? Well, I’m ready after to-day to give him a chance to beat the Rocket; but, Lanky, he’ll have to handle the Speedaway better than he handles himself or he will find himself taking the rough water of this little boat mighty quickly.”

Frank Allen and Lanky Wallace were out on the Harrapin river giving the regular daily try-out to the Rocket. Lanky’s father, after their return from a recent trip to the West, had presented Frank with this neat, little, rakish-modeled motor boat for three reasons: first, because he liked the upstanding leader of the Columbia boys and felt that his own son, Clarence (though Lanky was the name known best) could be in no better company; second, because he was himself a lover of the great out-of-doors and felt that kinship to Frank which the outdoor life develops in men; and third, he felt that Frank had done him a great turn out at Gold Fork when he had so successfully outwitted those who had tried to rob him of the gold which was rightfully his.

“You know, sweet little Clarinda—” and Frank started “kidding” his pal.

“Listen, boy,” Lanky spoke up quickly, “the Harrapin’s wetter than usual to-day. One of us might get damp.”

“As I was saying,” and Frank’s eyes sparkled, “Clarice,” keeping a watch on Lanky, “you know that a gas engine has fifty-seven varieties of tricks in it, just like a good Missouri mule, and before I get into any contests I am going to learn a few of the tricks this one has.”

At the moment there seemed to be no reason why Frank Allen should doubt the faithfulness of his motor, for it was running smoothly, hitting regularly, and had been responding to-day to its master’s touch. Which very fact was stated by Lanky Wallace.

“That’s all right, Lanky—what you say. But you heard me compare a gas engine to a mule, didn’t you? That is using other words to say that when you think things are the smoothest is when they are getting ready to be the worst.”

The words had just left Frank’s lips and reached Lanky Wallace’s ears when there was a loud pop and the engine’s explosions ceased.

“Oh, ye prophet!” and Lanky started laughing.

“Here! Grab the wheel, hold her straight ahead, and let me tickle this thing into action,” and Frank let Wallace have his place.

His wrenches in hand, he took out a spark plug and immediately found this particular trouble. Cleaning the plug and respacing the two points across which the spark leaps, he replaced the plug and started the engine. Again it worked smoothly, and he threw it into gear with the propeller shaft.

“I wonder who Cunningham is, really,” he said as he wiped his hands on some waste and stood again alongside Lanky Wallace.

“Beats me. But I don’t like him, no matter who he is nor where he’s from. There’s something about him that isn’t square, Frank. His eyes are shifty and he seems too anxious to be the leader in everything in Columbia. I don’t see what Minnie sees in him——”

The mention of Minnie Cuthbert’s name along with Cunningham’s was not at all pleasing to Frank Allen, and a little frown stole across his face. There was silence between the two boys while the Rocket continued up the river at a medium pace, taking them on an errand for Frank’s father.

“Well,” Frank broke into the put-put of the exhaust, “I guess it’s just a strange face and new ways and new words and lots of great things he has done, and all of that. They say a woman’s intuition is unerring, but I believe that you and I have better intuition in this case than the girls have. I’m going to venture this: I don’t believe Cunningham is here for any good reason, and I believe that fast motor boat of his is for some other purpose than just to challenge us fellows to a race.”

Silence fell again between the two boys while the Rocket passed one after another of the beautiful, green, wooded islands which dot the Harrapin and make it one of the prettiest water-courses in the country. From among the trees on each of them peeped out pretty houses or cottages or partly built summer homes, the finished houses possessed of neat boat landings where week-end parties often stopped during the solstice days and spent a merry time as guests.

“What a summer!” suddenly exclaimed Lanky.

“How?”

“Well, first out at Rockspur and Gold Fork, and lots of fun and go almost every minute, and dad’s map being stolen, and the sudden appearance of Lef Seller, and the hot chase we had, and Lef’s getting away, and your finding all the gold for dad, and his giving you a bunch of it, and now back here—all of it, you know.”

“And don’t forget we’ve got to have a good camp yet before the summer’s gone,” put in Frank. “I’ve been thinking of it all the summer and I don’t want to see the time get away from us before we pull that off.”

“You’re sure right,” agreed Lanky.

For a while they chatted about the pleasant times in store for them on a camping trip, then the conversation again drifted back to their adventures in the West. All the while Frank was listening, even through the spoken words, to the action of the motor, feeling all the time as if something might be wrong with it.

“Something’s out of adjustment,” he said to his companion, breaking suddenly into one of Lanky’s speeches. “This motor is good, a perfect daisy, a four-cycle type that is hardly without equal, and yet it isn’t acting right, Lanky. I’m not so awfully expert that I can figure it all out, but there is a noise here that isn’t right. Listen! Just as I pick her up for some speed, there’s a peculiar sound.”

With this Frank increased the speed of the boat, and in perhaps sixty seconds the Rocket was heading up the Harrapin at a pace which Frank had not previously held it to.

“Gee, Frank,” cried Lanky enthusiastically, “what chance has Fred Cunningham with this? This is speed, I’ll say!”

“Righto—it’s speed. Look at her nose! Up and after ’em! Look back of us at the wash. But also listen to that sound. Some of these days when I need speed and think I’m going to get it, I’m going to find myself in trouble if I don’t find the cause for it,” and Frank’s tone was one of extreme worry.

“What’s the use of worrying? I don’t hear anything half as much as I see some speed. This is great!”

Gradually the speed of the Rocket was lessened, for Frank was not inclined to take chances on something which he did not understand.

“How far do we go?” asked Lanky.

“Up to Crescent Island. Father asked me to deliver that message in my coat pocket up to Mr. Sneed on the Island. I guess it must have been important, or he would have sent it by mail.”

Around a long bend of the river they went, past one of the prettiest of the island group, whereon a handsome summer home stood back of the shrubbery.

“I wonder why Mrs. Parsons keeps that big place on the island and also her home on the shore of the river,” idly observed Lanky Wallace, nodding over to the very handsome old home on the shore of the river, standing back on a knoll, protected from the view of the river boats by great trees and row upon row of shrubs.

“I understand she has become a sort of miser since Mr. Parsons died. I have heard that she keeps lots of her family heirlooms and silver and all that sort of thing up there.

“I’ve heard all sorts of mysterious things about her place, among them that she has secret chambers to keep her money and jewels,” and Lanky looked back at the place. “But, Frank, I don’t believe half of those stories. You know that lots of the small talk we hear in town about many folks isn’t so.”

“That’s true enough,” agreed Frank. “Of course, there is the old saying that where there’s smoke there is also fire, but I can’t help but think that a sensible person who is rich is not going to keep stuff of that sort about the place, exposed to thieves and burglars.”

“I wonder if she’s afraid to stay there unguarded.”

“Then why doesn’t she move into town, where she would be close to neighbors and friends?”

“On advice of counsel, I must refuse to answer,” said Lanky banteringly, striking a mock heroic attitude.

Just at this juncture the expected happened. Frank’s exclamation of “Now! what’s the matter?” showed that his fears were being realized. The engine stopped dead, and the Rocket was going upstream merely because of its own headway.

Lanky Wallace took the wheel at the suggestion of Frank, so that he himself could get down to tinker with the engine.

Once, twice, three times he tried to get it started, but there was no success.

Without any show of temper, but a determined look of the conqueror, Frank Allen rolled his sleeves back, chose the wrenches he wanted, and started to work.

“While we’re drifting, Lanky, hold her in toward shore, and when we’re close enough you might as well ease her up to some good spot to tie. I’m going to fix this thing if I know how.”

First the plugs were taken out. They showed considerable fouling, but when he had cleaned and replaced them there was no success. What Frank noticed particularly was the resistance which the motor offered to being turned over.

A half-hour of drifting passed away, Lanky in charge of the wheel, and then a slight bump told the boys that he had brought the Rocket’s nose up against a soft place in the bank. Lanky leaped off with a line and ran to a low-bending tree, a very convenient willow, and tied.

They had drifted back to a point just upstream from the Parsons house.

Several boats out in midstream passed them, but the two boys, busy in the cockpit, paid no heed to those who were going their own ways. The afternoon was wearing on.

The first thing Frank had discovered was that two of the valve springs were weak, or appeared to be so, and he placed the only spare ones he had—two new ones from the tool kit—where they belonged, then had Lanky try the engine by slowly turning it over to note the effect.

Next came his examination of the carburetor, where so much of the trouble of a gas engine lies, and found that the needle valve was dirty. This being cleaned, an examination of the float having been made, and all parts then carefully put together, Lanky grabbed the flywheel and gave it a spin. Away it went with a whir!

“Now, which of three things was wrong?” laughed Frank, as the motor spit and sputtered and then went to running evenly.

“All three!” exclaimed Lanky. “It’s not for me to choose the right one—so I’ll just play safe and say it was all of them at the same time.”

The two boys washed their hands, Lanky loosened the fastening to the tree, gave a huge shove to the boat to cast it far off shore, leaped on it as it moved away, and grabbed an oar to propel it further from shore, paddle-like, so that the propeller would not foul.

Then, its nose slowly turned upstream, the engine running smoothly, the Rocket picked up speed under the hand of Frank, and out to midstream they went, toward the Parsons Island.

“There’s Cunningham right now!” exclaimed Wallace, pointing to a rapidly moving boat which was rounding the upper side of the narrow island.

It was a trim craft, the Speedaway, and worth watching as it skimmed around the island and made its way toward the same side of the river as was the Rocket.

“What’s the fool mean? Look at him! Heading straight at us!” cried Frank, throwing his wheel over to get passing space and blowing his whistle.

“Drat his hide!” muttered the other. “Turning directly at us and not slowing down.”

Once again Frank eased the Rocket to the port. At once the Speedaway’s direction was changed, the boat answering quickly to the wheel, as its speed was kept.

A long slim V of water washing behind as its bow cut the river with its burst of speed, the Cunningham craft was bearing directly at the Rocket, a deliberate attempt to run it down!

CHAPTER II

THE SCREAM IN THE DARK

Lanky Wallace looked aghast as the Speedaway bore squarely at them, aimed at tearing the Rocket in two.

Frank Allen, realizing what a dastardly attempt was being made to disable the boat and probably to injure Lanky and himself, knowing that only the coolest maneuvering would save them, was as steady as a post.

With one swing of his arm to the motor he increased speed and with the coolest deliberation turned the nose of the Rocket squarely for the Speedaway. His hope was two-fold: that he would scare off the other men and that he might be in a better position to throw his own craft hard over to one side at the last moment before any impact.

His movement was entirely successful in at least one respect—that he got into position quickly for his own next move.

In a flash of time the two boats were almost touching noses. Then came the necessary alertness and deftness of movement. With a hard tug at his wheel Frank threw the Rocket to one side.

Crunch! The sides of the two boats rubbed each other all the way from stem to stern. As quickly as this happened Frank threw the wheel hard in the opposite direction, with the effect that it threw the Speedaway around, and did so with such a jerk that a large box fell overboard on the other side.

“Hey, you blame fool! What do you mean trying to run me down? What kind of dirty tricks are you up to?” yelled Fred Cunningham as they passed.

Frank, hearing the splash and not knowing that it was not a man overboard, for he had seen two other men beside Cunningham in the boat, immediately cut off speed and continued the long turning movement started when he so quickly gave the push to the stern of the Speedaway.

Her nose now downstream, Frank and Lanky saw that the Speedaway had also made a wide turn and was coming back toward a box which was floating in the river. The speed of the Rocket lessened as it neared the other motor boat.

The two men in the Speedaway were busily engaged in reaching for the floating box, which appeared to be an empty one, and were thus averting their faces. His quick eyes taking in the scene, however, Frank got enough of a glimpse of the men to be able to recognize them again if he should ever see them.

“Say, what kind of business is this? Do you know that you could have swamped this boat and put us all into the river?” called Cunningham.

“That’s about what you had coming to you,” called Frank. Since Cunningham was playing this kind of trick and since there was nothing to be gained by having any argument about the guilt of one or the other, Frank merely showed his contempt for the other.

By this time the two other men had rescued the box and had placed it on the deck forward.

“Do you think that raft of yours has any speed in it?” asked Cunningham sneeringly. “If you think so, I’ll give you a race any time you want it.”

“That’s exactly what I’ll be glad to do. Any time you say and where you say we’ll show you what a regular boat can do that doesn’t spend its time running other people down,” called Frank quite coolly.

“What’s that?” called Cunningham threateningly, getting out from the cockpit as the two boats lay alongside each other.

Frank was equally ready, and saw that a lack of movement on his part might be misinterpreted. Out he stepped from the cockpit of the Rocket and started toward the side.

“I said this boat was ready for a race any time, and I said it was not in the nasty habit of trying to run into other people. Did you get me plainly?”

“Race you any time you say, then. Better put two or three more engines into your rowboat,” again sneered Cunningham, as he stepped back into the cockpit of the Speedaway.

With that he threw the motor into gear and moved away from the Rocket, which now slowly turned its nose upstream.

Frank and Lanky were both quiet. Wallace wanted to talk, but he knew Frank well enough to know that the young captain of the Rocket did not wish to say anything. Under such conditions Frank Allen was always most quiet.

The afternoon sun was slanting its way down into the west and the cooler breezes of the river were flitting past their tousled heads, cooling them off a bit after the rather exciting moments they had had.

It was just at dusk that the boys came to Northeast Bend in the Harrapin and saw the island for which they were headed.

As quickly as it was possible to do, without taking too many chances on injuring the craft, Frank brought it up to the landing with the engine dead. Lanky leaped ashore and tied to the landing post, while Frank made sure he had the note in his pocket before stepping off.

“Well, we’re going to have a moonlight ride on the Harrapin to-night—provided there’s a moon,” laughed Frank, as he came hurrying back to the Rocket and found Lanky stretched out astern, viewing the sky.

“Good enough, only it’s going to cost someone something to eat when we get back to town, for I’m as hungry as one of those bears they talk about.”

“I think father ought to be the one to buy it. What do you say if you come on to the house and we’ll have a snack laid out for us that will improve conditions in the department of the interior.”

“That’s the most sensible thing you’ve said since we started—so far as I can recall.”

In the meanwhile Lanky pulled his frame up from the stern seat, stretched, jumped to the landing, cast off, and the Rocket was ready to go. The stream slowly turned the boat’s nose downward as Frank threw the wheel over. A moment later the motor was going, the gear shifted, and the Rocket started on its homeward journey.

“Better get the lights going, Lanky. And while you’re at it, get the searchlight uncovered and start it. Might as well have all the light we need. This is the first time we’ve navigated at night, and there are about two hours of it to do.”

Lanky took up his task, whistling the while, but suddenly ceased the music and cried:

“Say, Frank, there’s not a bit of juice. What’s the big idea? Can’t light one of them.”

“Throw the main switch on.”

“I have, but not a bit comes through. The line’s dead.”

Here was something more to concern them. Frank Allen knew he did not dare go far down the river without lights, for the many islands in the river and the tortuous path it followed at times would put their own safety at risk, while anything that might be floating in the stream would be an additional risk. On top of all would be the risk to themselves and to others should they meet a motor boat or a rowboat coming upstream.

“Here, take the wheel and hold her in the middle of the river,” he directed Lanky, as he threw the engine out of gear with the drive and started to seek for the trouble.

Fifteen minutes passed without any degree of success, and actual darkness was on them.

“Put her nose over to shore, Lanky. No use taking any chances. We’ve got to find the trouble.”

Whereupon Lanky did his duty, and the Rocket was soon tied to the bank, the engine was stopped, and the two boys began their search for the trouble. They started at the battery end to trace out the wiring.

Doing the work carefully, not dodging about after one connection or another, working methodically, as was Frank’s wont in all things, they came across a grounded connection which was causing the trouble.

“What has always got me,” said Lanky, as Frank declared it was a ground, “is that you call that kind of a connection a ground, or you say the current is grounded, when there’s no ground near the boat.”

“Simple as can be to a high-class, first-grade, expert electrical engineer such as yours truly,” declared Frank, poking out his chest and striking an attitude.

“Yes, like I’m a good jeweler!”

“Now, little playmate, wilt thee kindly cast off the vessel from yonder coral reef?” Frank continued his attitude.

Lanky went shoreward, loosed the rope, and threw it on board at the bow, gave the Rocket a push and leaped aboard himself, hastily grabbing the oar once again to push the stern away from the shallow water.

“Put-put!” and the engine started as he gave the flywheel a spin, Frank at the wheel ready to throw it in gear and get to midstream. All lights were going properly.

Silence now held the boys for a while as Frank picked his way easily to midstream and headed for Columbia.

“You know,” Lanky suddenly broke the stillness, still, except for the muffled exhaust of the motor, “I’ve been wondering about that fellow Cunningham, Frank. What the mischief is that fellow up to? What does he want around here? Who are those two men who were with him? Why did he try to run us down to-day? And any other questions I may have forgotten.”

“You haven’t forgotten any. But you sure can have the first chance to answer all or any of them, too. I don’t know the answers. Wish I did.”

Lanky was silent again. Frank joined him.

The Rocket was skimming the Harrapin at a fair pace, no great amount of speed, however, being shown, for Frank Allen was not anxious to run into trouble. The searchlight was lighting the river fifty yards in front of them, first flashing across to the tree-lined banks as they came to great curves in the river, and again lighting up some one of the emerald-like isles, though now looming up out of the water like spectres. No moon was up.

“Getting down toward home. There’s the Parsons island ahead of us. We’ll pass it on this side, and then I believe I know the river better from that point to home.”

“What’s that over there?” excitedly cried Lanky, as he pointed to a shadowy thing which had been brought up out of the river as the searchlight swung toward the shore.

Back again Frank swung the light, disclosing a rowboat tied to the bank, with a form, much resembling a living being, at the bow of the boat. But the light was not strong enough to bring out details.

“Some one tied there for a while, I guess,” and Frank turned the searchlight again toward the middle of the stream.

“Look! A signal!” Lanky had seen a flare of light in the direction of the boat.

“Rats, Lanky, you’re letting this darkness get on your nerves.”

“Well—maybe. Anyhow, if it wasn’t a signal of anything else it was a signal or sign that he was lighting his pipe.”

Then a distant hail came to their ears above the put-put of the motor. They were almost on a line between the Parsons island and the Parsons home on shore. Frank stooped and cut off the motor, permitting the boat to drift with its headway. Both the boys listened. There was no sound.

“Guess I’m the one that let the light and the sound get on my nerves. What time is it, Lanky?”

“Half-past nine o’clock.”

“That’s early for anything wrong to be happening anywhere, so I guess there’s nothing happening. Those sounds are common to the river, no doubt,” and Frank stepped over to grasp the flywheel and start the engine.

“Help!” It came across the water from the shore of the Parsons estate.

Frank straightened and listened. Lanky was sitting bolt upright. Once again there came the shrill scream of a woman. No other sound.

“Wonder what it is, Lanky!”

“Some one in trouble over at the Parsons place.”

In a trice Frank grasped the flywheel, gave it a twist, the motor started, and they swung to the shore. Wallace went forward, hoping to catch any sound that might come across the lessening expanse of water.

Cutting off the motor, throwing the nose around so as to strike the bank easily, with Lanky ready to leap ashore with a line, Frank maneuvered the Rocket expertly.

Just as Lanky Wallace jumped ashore, as Frank held tight to the wheel, there came again the shrill scream of a woman from the Parsons house!

CHAPTER III

THE PARSONS JEWELS

Up the inclined bank went the two boys, determined now to get to the Parsons house, whence the cries came.

Dodging through the shrubbery, which whipped their faces in the inky darkness, tripping and stumbling over the gnarled roots of some of the older vines, as they missed their steps, they came to the broad expanse of lawn in front of the estate which faced the river.

Once more came that cry of a frightened woman!

It seemed to come from the rear of the house. Dashing up the steps to the front porch, Frank tried the door. It was locked. Still another cry from the woman!

“Around to the rear!” cried Frank, as Lanky and he turned back from the resisting front door.

They dashed as fast as their legs could carry them around the large building, coming to the rear porch, or gallery, which faced toward the river road, and up to which a broad driveway led.

Swish! The starting of a motor! Then a light flashed and an automobile moved out from the drive at the garage a hundred feet away!

“There they go!” both boys cried in the same breath, just as a loud cry came from within:

“Help! Let me out!”

It was just over their heads. Frank looked up, but could see nothing. The night was as black as ink.

Rushing up the steps to the wide back porch, the two boys tried the door. It gave to their touch. Both tried to get in at the same time, and for a second wedged each other.

Again Mrs. Parsons, for in all probability it was she, screamed, and Frank dived through the dark for the direction indicated by her voice.

“Find a light, Lanky, quick!” he cried, feeling about for the door.

While Frank fumbled along the wall, trying to find the door or closet wherein Mrs. Parsons was imprisoned, Lanky was in turn fumbling in his pockets for a match, which, finding at last, he scratched. The feeble light flared up, and the quick eyes of both boys located the push button. Each made a dive to get it, but Lanky being nearest reached it and flooded the room with the necessary light.

In another moment Frank was smashing against the door behind and beyond which the woman was screaming even more lustily, more excitedly, than before.

As it gave before his second onslaught, he saw she was lying on the floor, her arms and feet pinioned, a rag which had been used as a hurriedly made gag lying alongside her head.

Loosening her arms quickly and lifting her bodily to her feet, Frank and Lanky both supported her to a chair.

It was Mrs. Parsons, the wealthy recluse of the county. She was thoroughly hysterical.

“My jewels! My silver! They’ve stolen it all and got away! What shall I do? What shall I do?”

Frank tried to quiet her, but for a few minutes it was of no avail. She was thoroughly excited over her experience and her loss, wildly hysterical about it, crying one moment and screaming the next.

What seemed to the boys a very long time was only a few minutes, and then she quieted enough to tell, between gasps and moans, something of what had happened.

Mrs. Parsons said that she had returned to her house from a trip to Columbia just after dark and that her automobile had been put up. She came into the house, and her maid being out for her regular weekly day off, she had prepared a little supper for herself. In doing this she had not gone any further than the kitchen, the pantry, and the small room off the kitchen which she used as a breakfast room and which, under circumstances such as these, she used also as a dining room.

Having finished her supper she sat in the same small room checking over her balance in bank as shown by her bankbook as against her own check stubs.

“How long were you engaged at this?” asked Frank.

He was decidedly anxious to get to the heart of the story, yet realized that she must tell the tale in her own way, even though the miscreants were putting more and more distance between themselves and this place at every minute that she detailed the story.

“Oh, I suppose it was fully an hour that I sat here checking and thinking idly about different things, then——”

She proceeded with her story, about as follows:

She had heard a noise of a peculiar kind several times, but had paid no heed to it, thinking the noises were caused by the wind, coupled with the queer noises that one always hears at night. Living alone in this house for so long she had become quite accustomed to extraordinary noises, and had enjoyed herself on many occasions concentrating on some of them and guessing what they were.

“Suddenly I felt as if some one were behind me,” and she turned quickly, apprehensively, around, expecting to see some one.

“As I twisted around to see what could be behind me,” she gasped, “a man seized me by my shoulders and another placed a hand over my mouth. I screamed as I jerked and for a moment freed myself from his grasp over my mouth. But in a second he again placed his hand over my mouth, the other hand going around my throat, and I could not even breathe.”

“Then they placed you in the pantry?” asked Frank.

“Yes, they dragged me over there, one of them tied a rag around my face, to gag me, and then they bound my hands and feet.”

“How did you get the gag off so that you could scream so loudly—for we were attracted by your screams?”

“I guess it was because I twisted and squirmed so much. Anyway, finally, while I was almost frantic over the noises I could hear of their packing up my silver and loading it into a box and carrying it out, I managed to free myself from the gag, and then I started screaming as hard as I could.”

“But why scream, when you knew you were so far from neighbors?”

“You heard me, didn’t you? You heard me from the road and came. That’s why I screamed.”

“Yes, we heard you from out on the river. That’s how far your screams carried,” replied Frank, speaking softly so as to reassure her. “Now, let’s call the police and get them out here.”

“Yes, yes, call the police!” she cried, gaining strength and with it her composure. “Let’s look around and see what is gone, too.”

Lanky hurried to the telephone, being directed to its location by Mrs. Parsons, and sent in a call for the police headquarters in Columbia, reporting the robbery and asking for men to be sent at once. The night lieutenant replied that he would send two special men immediately. It may be added here that Frank’s old friend, Chief Hogg, was no longer at headquarters in Columbia. His health had given out and he was away on a long vacation and another man the boys did not know was now at the head of the police department.

In the meanwhile Mrs. Parsons and Frank started through the house. In the dining room they saw the sideboard drawers all pulled out, and linens strewn on the floor.

“All my silverware—gone!” she moaned, her hands to her face. “Thousands of dollars’ worth of the very finest sterling silver dishes and all my flat silver, too! There’s the plated ware on the sideboard—they did not want that. Oh, what shall I do. All my silver gone, gone!”

Frank surveyed the scene quietly, not knowing how much of the ware there might have been. Nor had he any idea of what amount it would take to make “thousands of dollars’ worth.”

“Let us not touch anything here, Mrs. Parsons,” Frank suggested, as Mrs. Parsons stooped to put one of the drawers in its place in the sideboard. “Let us leave things just as they are until the police get here.”

She stood quietly and looked at the disturbed condition of things for a while. Then she said:

“I wonder if they could have gotten my jewels upstairs. Let’s see!”

She started off with the sudden recollection that these same men could have gotten more than the silverware.

Up the steps to the second floor they went, into her own apartment. There the dresser drawers were scattered about the floor, everything in the closets was down, showing that a search had been made for valuables.

Over in one corner of the room, in a place that was rather out of sight, a small safe was standing, its door wide open.

“The safe! My jewelry!”

The safe was empty. Papers and large legal envelopes lay on the floor, but otherwise the safe was absolutely, completely, hopelessly empty.

Mrs. Parsons sat stiffly down on the bed and cried, moaning the while about the loss of her jewels.

“How much was there, Mrs. Parsons?” asked Frank, after taking in the whole scene and waiting for the first shock to pass.

“Literally thousands upon thousands of dollars. There were jewels there which my grandfather and my own father and mother had left to me, and much that Mr. Parsons had bought for me at different times. Oh, there were rings and necklaces and bracelets and pins and scores, scores of small pieces of all kinds! And there were four large diamonds which were unmounted, all in a small iron box.”

The robbers had made a good haul while they were at it. Evidently they had known something of the lie of the land, had figured where everything was, or had been told where things were. And, thought Frank, they had not done all this after they had bound and gagged the wealthy widow. There was so much to be done that they had probably been in the house while she was away, and the small noises they made upstairs were those which she had heard and had permitted to pass unheeded.

Having looked carefully about the room, having seen how thoroughly these fellows had worked, Frank proposed they go downstairs to await the police.

They had not long to wait. They had barely gained the landing below when the police knocked at the front door, having come around from the broad front of the house.

Frank admitted them while Mrs. Parsons, still almost overcome at the fright and also at the realization of her loss, sat in a large chair, sobbing, patting her eyes with her handkerchief the while.

The whole story was told again, this time a few little details being added which explained to Frank the very things he had thought were true that these fellows had been in the house all the time, and that they had caught and bound her when they had finished upstairs and had come down to rifle the lower part of the house.

“Have you any idea who did this, Mrs. Parsons?” asked one of the men from the police department.

“If I had, would I have you out here? Wouldn’t I have you chasing them right now?”

“I mean, madam, would you recognize them if you saw them again?”

“No, because they wore handkerchiefs over their faces, and that is all I saw as I turned to see what was behind me.”

“Did you notice their clothes or anything?”

“No—oh, yes! I’ll tell you something,” and she smiled for the first time. “When that fellow put his hand roughly over my face the second time, one of his fingers got between my lips and I bit down hard on him, so hard that he jerked it away, but he had it back again before I could draw my breath and scream. I know I bit him so hard that it will show.”

The policeman smiled.

“Pretty hard work to find one fellow out of thousands whose finger was bitten.”

“And, besides,” broke in Frank Allen, “they are a long distance from here right now. That car started away mighty fast.”

“What car? Did you see them? Did you get here in time to see them get off in a car?”

The man from police headquarters swung on Frank.

“Yes, we heard the screams and came running here. Just as we came to the rear of the house we heard a car door slam, saw the lights flash on, and the car pulled out from the garage.”

“Where were you when you heard Mrs. Parsons?”

“Out on the river,” answered Frank.

“And you heard her scream from here away out in the river, from the rear of this house to that broad lawn and out there?” questioned the man.

“Sure. How would we have come here if we hadn’t heard the noise?” asked Frank in turn.

The two men from police headquarters drew aside and held a whispered consultation. Then the chief of the two came back.

“Mrs. Parsons, how long after the two men left did these young fellows come in here to turn you loose? How did they get in?”

“How would she know the answer to the last question?” asked Frank. “We found the rear door open, and we broke down the pantry door, as you can see by looking at it.”

“You have been in this house several times as the guest of Mrs. Parsons, have you not?” asked the policeman. “When she entertained you while you were at high school?”

“Oh, officer,” cried the widow. “What do you mean? Frank Allen could have had nothing to do with this!”

CHAPTER IV

WHEN FIRE LIGHTS THE SKY

The accusation, hardly to be called veiled, rather startled Frank Allen. Lanky, close chum of Frank’s that he was, moved as if to strike the policeman, but refrained on sober second thought, since it would certainly have placed him in a bad light.

“You are inclined to jump at conclusions without much thought,” remarked Frank quietly, though in that quietness there was the glint and swish of a rapier blade. “We thought you were coming up here to help find the thieves and not to waste time making wild accusations.”

“Zat so, young man? Well, my advice to you is to keep a quiet tongue or things won’t be so quiet for you.”

This exchange of remarks brought Mrs. Parsons around from her hysterical fright to a feeling of resentment.

“Pray, let us not have any trouble of the kind. We have had enough trouble to worry us. Let us proceed to learn whether we might not find a way to gain proof against the men who have done this.”

“I quite agree with you, Mrs. Parsons. If there are such things as clues which will help us fasten this on the men who did it, let’s try to find the clues.” Frank was keeping his cool demeanor.

“I’ll see to the clues.” The policeman still held to his manner, which was bellicose, to say the least. “We do not need your help, young man, and you may leave.”

“This is my house, sir!” The widow spoke angrily. “Mr. Allen will stay here until he pleases to leave.”

“No, Mrs. Parsons, I think it wise that I leave. I thank you ever so much for what you have said, but since it might merely slow things down if I stayed, I will be getting back home, for it is already late.”

With this Frank and Lanky bowed themselves out of the house and were gone down the river bank.

Walking at a medium pace across the great spread of carpeted grass, the two boys said nothing to each other, though both were thinking deeply.

The vines and shrubs cracked and swished as they pushed their way through these, and both came out at the river bank at practically the same time—and with the same thought.

For both were looking, or trying to look, through the darkness to a point upstream. Seeing in this inky blackness was impossible. Even their boat, the Rocket, was a slightly darkened blob against the river.

Not until the boat had been pushed into the stream and Frank had guided it away after Lanky had turned the engine over, was the silence between these two friends broken.

“What does it mean?” asked Wallace.

“It really, down to brass tacks, doesn’t mean anything, Lanky, as you will realize if you think of it for a minute. We know we haven’t done anything wrong, don’t we? So, all it can mean is that the police force has one more member on it than we thought who hasn’t all that’s coming to him.”

“But it doesn’t alter the fact that he has accused us of having something to do with this robbery.”

“He also hasn’t altered the fact that we didn’t, has he? You’ve got to battle with facts when you get after things of this kind. Now, I know a fact which I should like to place before your attention—there was an old boat tied up to the river bank just above us when we landed.”

“Yes, and I was remembering the same thing when we came through the brush. But you can’t see anything in the dark. Let’s go back and see if it’s there.”

“Sure, it isn’t there! What’s the use of going back? If the fellow had no reason whatever for being there he would have moved by this time, because it has been more than an hour, maybe nearly two hours. And if he did have something to do with it, he wouldn’t be there yet.”

“But those fellows who got into the auto when we came to the house—how about them? What connection would they have with the boat, for they had a car?”

Lanky had asked a question that meant something. What, indeed, could the car have to do with the boat?

Frank was silent, thinking, as was Lanky.

The steady put-put of the exhaust broke the silence, and Frank steered a course well toward the farther side of the Harrapin, thinking to skirt close to the next island, for in doing so at the wide bend of the river below he would gain a short distance.

Wallace was standing close to Frank in the cockpit, and their words were not spoken, when they did speak, very loudly. The submerged exhaust did not bother them greatly.

“Wish we could have got some idea of the shape of that car,” muttered Frank Allen. “When he flashed on the lights to get away we might have had gumption enough to have noticed the license tag.”

“I did,” replied his mate. “There wasn’t any.”

“What? Are you quite sure?”

“Well,” and Lanky drawled his reply to the question, “maybe I oughtn’t to have said that. As I recall the impression on my mind when they started off, the red light did not show any license tag beneath it.”

“We didn’t even notice whether they turned up the road or down, either, so there’s that much information that we lost. Instead, we dashed up those steps and into the house.”

“They must have had a lot of time to do what they did.” Lanky spoke suddenly after another period of silence. “They could not have done all that after they bound her in the pantry.”

“That’s what I think. They probably were already in the house before she got home. But that brings up this question, Lanky—if their car was standing at the spot where we saw them get in at the time she came home, why didn’t the driver of her own car notice it and tell them?”

“Gee, that’s a fact! Now, what does that mean? Does it mean that they arrived after she did? Does it mean they entered the house after she arrived home, proceeded upstairs and finished the work, and then came down and got her?”

“Doesn’t sound reasonable. Let’s see what we would have done if we had been the culprits.” Frank was reasoning it out slowly. “If I had gone in there after she returned, and I had known she was there, I would not have taken a chance on proceeding upstairs, making noise which she might have heard and reported over the telephone before I could get downstairs to quiet her.”

“How about this?” Suddenly a thought struck through Wallace’s mind. “Could not these fellows have left their car outside somewhere, out of sight, and the driver of it could have brought it up after she had returned home and after her own driver had gone away?”

The idea was a good one, and Frank turned to look fairly at his friend before he answered.

“Hey! Hold off there! What the dickens!”

The sudden cry had come from out the darkness on the river. Frank’s head was back again to the forward end of the Rocket. Squarely in his path was a dark object of considerable size!

With a wide sweep of the wheel he threw the Rocket hard over to the port side, his right hand reaching down to slow the motor so as to decrease the impact when he struck.

But the Rocket missed the object.

It was a rowboat with three men in it, and a large box or trunk-like object in the stern. Frank threw his searchlight into play and dropped it squarely on the rowboat.

But the man at the oars was pulling hard on them, getting out of range of the light.

“Why don’t you watch where you’re going?” came out across the river to them.

Frank and Lanky said nothing. The searchlight was reaching out in an effort to locate them, but when it found the mark, two of the men ducked low in the boat while the third one was plying the oars as hard as his strength permitted.

“Isn’t that the same boat?” gasped Lanky.

Frank said nothing. Instead, he changed the course of the Rocket, but he was too late to get immediately after the fellows. The island was squarely in front of him, the one he had aimed at passing on this side to shorten the run down the river.

Around it to the far side he went, then swung as closely as good navigation of the Rocket would permit, to get back to the course made by the rowboat.

Several minutes were consumed in making this return to the former location, and the path had led completely around the island in an attempt to head off the rowboat.

Back upstream they went, the searchlight playing here and there, seeking for the little craft.

“I’d be careful, Frank,” muttered Lanky Wallace. “If there’s anything wrong about these fellows, they’re very apt to do some shooting.”

“I’ll take the chance,” and Frank gritted his teeth.

Over toward the farther shore they went, then swung back again, but the searchlight of the Rocket, though flung first to one side and then the other, failed to reveal the boat.

“That’s mighty queer. That boat is on the river. It has no motor. It can’t move away fast. We are faster than it is. So, it is not far from here right now.”

“But it isn’t in sight. It is so plagued pitchy dark that one can’t see, anyhow,” replied the other.

“But we’ve come right across their path. They can’t have gotten far.”

“No—you’re right. But they’ve gotten out of sight whether they got far away or not.”

“Suppose they turned, too, when they saw us turning, and went to the upper side of the island? Let’s take a look?”

Lanky said nothing. But he was thinking that he did not relish the plan. He knew that a bullet could come out of that darkness very easily, for the willows hung far over the water on the upper side of this island, as he well recalled, and the boat could easily have slid somewhere beneath them.

Frank navigated toward the island, the searchlight playing about, like some great sepulchral hand reaching out to grasp, in weird, ghostlike fashion, whatever it might find.

Though they searched the waters and around the island for several minutes, no trace of the rowboat was to be found. It had completely vanished in the night.

“Frank,” declared Lanky, as they moved down the river after the fruitless hunt, “that rowboat is on the upper side of the island, under those willows, snugly tucked away, and there was at least one gun pointed our way in case we ran in there.”

“Maybe you’re right. Even at that I don’t see that we need to risk our skins hunting for something that may be as peaceable as a baby.”

“Not much, and you know it!” exclaimed Lanky. “That boat was something crooked, or they wouldn’t have dodged out of sight. If everything was all right it would have been in plain sight when we came up around that island.”

“You’re absolutely right, Lanky. And it was that very idea in my own mind that caused me to want to hunt it out.”

The Rocket was now headed straight for Columbia. Only a few more miles and they would be at home—at a rather late hour, and probably with two families worrying over the two boys.

“We might have been thoughtful enough to have called our people from Mrs. Parsons and let them know where we were,” ruefully remarked Frank.

“As if we could have been so thoughtful under such circumstances as those. I think we did a wonderful thing when we thought to call up even the police station with all that excitement.”

They looked straight ahead for several minutes. The minds of these two youths, both active ones, were fully engaged on the happenings of the evening, which had, to say the least, come rather thick and quite fast.

“Was that a trunk or a box in that boat?” asked Frank.

“Looked to me like a large box—about the size of one I saw earlier in the day in the Speedaway.”

“Huh?” This had set Frank to thinking.

“And that rowboat looked as much like the one we saw at the bank above the Parsons place as any other rowboat would look.”