The High School Left End Part 9

"One thing at a time, Dave. In our excitement we've almost forgotten that we started out to find Theodore Dodge and clear up the mystery of his disappearance."

CHAPTER V

AT THE END OF THE TRAIL

"The further we go the more mysterious this becomes," mused d.i.c.k, as he and Darrin stood together over a clump of faintly-marked footprints, a quarter of an hour later.

"How does the mystery increase?" Darrin inquired.

"For one thing, we don't always find the bootmarks of the men who were with Mr. Dodge. Yet once in a while we do. There are the prints of all three. When Theodore Dodge pa.s.sed by this way the other two men were with him, or had him in sight. And our course shows that the three were plunging deeper and deeper into the woods. But come along. There must be an end to this, somewhere."

Ten minutes later Prescott and Darrin felt that they had come to the end of the mystery. For the faint trail had led them up a slight, stony slope, and now the two boys lay flat on the ground.

Below them, in a bush-clad hollow, two miles from the world in general, stood a little, old, ramshackle shanty. The location was one that seekers would hardly have found without a trail to lead them to it.

To the door of this shanty a broad-shouldered, rough-looking and powerful fellow of forty had just come. The man, who was poorly clad, wore brogans, and held in his right hand a weighty, ugly-looking club. The fellow was smoking a short-stemmed pipe, and now stood, with his left hand shading his eyes, peering off at the surrounding landscape.

d.i.c.k and Dave hugged the ground more closely behind their screen of bushes.

"It's all right, Bill," announced the lookout in the doorway.

"'Course this," growled a voice from the inside. "Too far from the main line o' travel for anyone to be spying around. Besides, no one guesses-----"

"Well, you can go to sleep if ye wanter, Bill. I'm goin' ter sit up and smoke."

With that the brogan-shod man disappeared inside the shanty.

d.i.c.k and Dave glanced at each other with eager interest.

"I wonder whether they have Mr. Dodge in there with them?" breathed d.i.c.k, in his ear.

"If Mr. Dodge is in there he's keeping amazingly quiet," Darrin responded doubtingly.

"Within a very few minutes," Prescott rejoined, "I'm going to know whether Mr. Dodge is in that shanty."

"We found his footprint close enough near here," argued Dave.

"Yes, and I feel sure enough that Mr. Dodge is there. But why don't we hear something from him? The whole business is so uncanny that it gives one that creepy feeling."

For a full quarter of an hour the two chums remained hidden, barely stirring. From the shanty, at first, came crooning tones, as though the man in brogans were humming over old songs to himself.

Occasionally there was a snore; evidently Bill was drowsing the day away.

"Now, I'm going down there," whispered d.i.c.k.

"Look out the big fellow doesn't catch you," warned Darrin. "I've an idea he'd beat you to a pulp if he caught you."

"I'm not as big as he is," admitted d.i.c.k, grinning, "but I think I might prove as fast as he on my feet."

As Prescott started to steal down into the hollow Dave reached about him, gathering all the fair-sized stones within reach.

"If d.i.c.k has to come from there on the rim," soliloquized Darrin, "a few stones hurled at the face of that ugly-looking customer might hold him back for a while. And I used to be called a pretty fair pitcher!"

Prescott, in the meantime, was stealing around the shanty, applying his eyes to some tiny cracks.

At last he turned, making straight and cautiously up the slope.

As he came near, d.i.c.k sent Dave a signal that made that latter youth throb with expectancy.

"Yes! We've found Theodore Dodge!" whispered young Prescott eagerly.

"He's in there, lying on the floor, bound and gagged."

"Whew! And what is Mr. Brogans doing?"

"Sitting on the floors smoking and playing solitaire with a dirty pack of cards. The other rascal, Bill, is sleeping at a great rate."

"What are we going to do now?"

"Dave, are you willing to stay here, hiding and keeping watch on the place?"

"Surely," nodded Darrin, with great promptness.

"If the wretches should try to take Mr. Dodge away from here-----"

"I'll follow 'em, of course."

"And leave a paper trail," nodded d.i.c.k.

"Here is all the paper I have in my pockets," he added.

"I have some, too," muttered Dave.

"I'll be back as speedily as I can get help."

"You ought not to be gone more than an hour."

"Not as long as that, I hope. Goodbye, Dave, and look out for yourself."

After going the first hundred yards d.i.c.k Prescott let himself out into a loping run, very much like that used by the "soreheads"

in getting back to town. With a trained runner the cross-country style of running is suited for getting over long distances at fair speed.

Twenty minutes later young Prescott reached a farm house in which there was a telephone. He asked permission to use the instrument.

"Go right in the parlor, and help yourself," replied the farmer's wife.

As d.i.c.k rang on, and stood waiting, transmitter at his ear, he first thought of calling for the police station.