Bound To Succeed Part 23

They had barely settled down to work the next morning when two schoolboys put in an appearance. One wanted to buy a "Twelve Tools in One" specialty as marked in the show case at twenty-five cents. The other produced a dime for a set of the false teeth.

"Profits fifteen cents and a-half to date," cried Markham gaily, as their first customers departed. "Those little fellows will spread our fame."

"When we get into full running order this local trade will be a nuisance to us," declared Markham towards noon.

In fact, he was kept on the jump attending to local customers all the morning. A raw young farmer had come in to blushingly buy a friendship ring. Several curious townspeople strolled to the office door, and out of good nature invested in various knickknacks displayed. One boy bought a false moustache, and within an hour twenty others visited the place clamoring for duplicates.

"About to-morrow the answers to our circulars will begin to come in,"

observed Markham. "That will be the real test of the merit of this business."

"We will close up for the afternoon," said Frank. "There's a lot of little things to do about the house and lot mother has rented. I promised she should have our help for half a day."

After dinner Frank and Markham put on some old clothes and set briskly at work. They mended the back stoop of the cottage, propped up a fence, raked the yard and got the wood shed in order.

About four o'clock both started in at the cistern at the side of the house. Its top had settled in, and new boards were required here and there, and a new trough from the house eaves.

Markham was holding a board that Frank was nailing, when some one pa.s.sing by on the street whistling caused both to look up.

"Don't let go--the board will spring loose," warned Frank, turning quickly as the pressure from the board end was suddenly removed--"why, Markham--"

"Oh, the mischief!" muttered Markham.

In wonderment and consternation at a swift glance Frank noticed a strangely startled expression on his companion's face.

Then, his eyes fixed steadfastly upon the street, Markham deliberately jumped down into the cistern out of sight.

CHAPTER XVII

A NEST EGG

"Quick, grab the pole!" shouted Frank.

As he spoke he thrust a long scantling down into the cistern.

"Reach for my hand--grab it. You'll be drowned," continued Frank.

"Don't bother--I'm all safe," came up Markham's hollow tones. "There's only about three feet of water here."

"How did you ever come to slip in?" asked Frank.

"Say," spoke Markham, not replying to the direct inquiry, "while I'm in here I may as well see if everything is sound and straight with the cistern."

Frank saw him flare a match. Some curious thoughts were running through Frank's mind as to the strange actions of his companion and helper.

Before he could a.n.a.lyze them, however, Frank saw Bob Haven turn in at the gate. He had a package under his arm. Bob stood still for a moment to gaze after the person who had just preceded him.

This latter was a young man, dressed loudly in brand new clothes, waving a slender cane with a dandified air, his whole bearing suggesting a person trying to look important and attract attention. This was the fellow the sight of whom had apparently induced Markham to plunge out of sight into the cistern.

Bob Haven stared hard after the receding figure of the stranger.

"Well, well!" he was saying as he approached Frank.

"What's the matter, Bob?" inquired Frank.

"Did you see that fellow just pa.s.sed by?"

"Yes, do you know him?"

"I did once--thoroughly. Heard he was in town. The nerve, now!"

"Who is he?"

"He's bad all through. Name is Dale Wacker. When Bart Stirling first took his father's place as express agent here, that fellow's uncle plotted to down him. Worse than that, he stole a lot of stuff from the express people. The police were after him. Dale, his nephew, was mixed up in it, and had to leave town. Heard he was in jail somewhere for some new exploits. Came back yesterday, I learned. Seemed to have plenty of money and tried to cut a figure showing it. Says he's a travelling man now, and earning untold wealth. Guess he's on the way to the depot now, to find new victims to swindle where he isn't so well known as he is here. I say, who's in there, anyhow?"

As Bob spoke, Markham came climbing up the scantling out of the cistern.

He was wet to the knees and looked troubled of face.

Frank noticed that he glanced anxiously in the direction of the street.

"Better go and get on dry clothes," suggested Frank.

"Oh, this job won't take us long to finish, now," answered Markham.

"Well, I've got some printing to deliver," said Bob. "Come over to the house after supper, fellows."

"All right," acquiesced Frank, but Markham said nothing. He acted subdued and worried until the cistern was finished. He stuck closely to the house after the work was done, and made some excuse for not going over to visit Bob and Darry after supper.

Frank was slightly disturbed at these actions--secretly he feared that a sight of the fellow Bob had called Dale Wacker had caused Markham to get out of sight. Frank wished he knew why.

Frank found his mother and Markham both reading when he came home, about nine o'clock. He kept his eye on the latter as he remarked to his mother that Darry had read to him a little news item he had gathered in for the _Herald_ late that afternoon.

It was about a fellow named Dale Wacker, Frank narrated. It seemed he was on his way to the railroad depot, when an old German peddler to whom he had owed money for over two years recognized and hailed him.

The peddler gave Wacker a great scoring and demanded his money. A crowd gathered, and Wacker started on his way at a fast walk. The peddler whipped up his horse to keep pace with him, whilst administering a continuous tongue-lashing.

The sorry nag did not keep up with the procession as Wacker broke into a run. Seizing a basket of eggs, the peddler jumped down from the wagon.

He was a big, fat, unwieldly person, but he pursued the fugitive vigorously.

The crowd hooted and yelled as the German began to pelt the eggs after the fugitive. Two eggs struck Wacker in the middle of the back. One shied off his hat and broke on the back of his head. Bespattered and hatless, the fellow reached the depot just in time to grab the platform rail of the last car on a departing train.

"Oh, got out of town, did he?" asked Markham quite eagerly.

"Yes, it seems so--faster than he had calculated on," responded Frank.