Fred Fenton on the Crew Part 1

Fred Fenton on the Crew.

by Allen Chapman.

CHAPTER I

THE FINGER OF SUSPICION

"h.e.l.lo! there, Bristles!"

"h.e.l.lo! yourself, Fred Fenton!"

"Why, what ails you this fine summer morning, Bristles? You don't look as jolly as you might."

"Well, I was only waiting to see if you cared to speak to me, Fred."

"Why in the wide world shouldn't I, when you're one of my chums, Bristles Carpenter?"

Andy Carpenter was known far and wide around the town of Riverport as "Bristles," on account of the way in which his mop of hair stood upright most of the time, much after the manner of the quills on a fretful porcupine.

Usually he was a very good-natured sort of a chap, one of the "give-and-take" kind, so universally liked among schoolboys. But, on this particular early summer morning, with the peaceful Mohunk river running close by, and all Nature smiling, Bristles look glum and distressed, just as his friend Fred Fenton had declared.

"You haven't heard the latest news then?" remarked the boy with the thick head of stiff, wiry hair; and he made a grimace as he spoke.

"If you mean anything about _you_, then I haven't, for a fact," Fred replied, his wonder deepening into astonishment; for he now saw that Bristles was not playing any kind of a joke, as he had at first suspected.

"Huh! didn't know you had an awful _thief_ for a chum, did you, Fred?"

the other went on, laying emphasis on that one suggestive word, and frowning.

"Rats! what sort of stuff are you giving me now, anyway, Bristles?"

"Well, some people think that way, Fred; you ask Miss Alicia Muster, f'rinstance," grumbled the other, shaking his head dolefully.

"But she's your rich old aunt, Bristles!" cried Fred, more surprised than ever.

"That doesn't make any difference," complained the boy who was in trouble; "she believes I took 'em, all the same; 'cause, you see, I just _happened_ to drop in to see her twice inside the last week, worse luck for me; and, Fred, each time one of 'em disappeared the funniest way ever."

"Go on and tell me what you mean; I can only guess that your aunt has met with some sort of loss. But why should she try to lay it on you, Bristles?"

"Huh! you don't know how good that makes me feel, Fred, just to think that one feller isn't goin' to believe me a thief," the other boy went on, drawing a long breath. "Why, even over at our house I seem to notice 'em all lookin' kinder suspicious-like at me; just as if they couldn't quite make up their minds whether I might 'a been tempted to take 'em or not."

"Take what?" demanded Fred, determined to learn the cause of his chum's trouble.

"Why," Bristles went on, "don't you remember that time I took you over to see my queer old maiden aunt, who's got the rheumatics so bad, and lives in the big house all alone with a colored woman, and all her silly pets,--cats, squawkin' crows she cares for like they might be humans; and with that big bulldog chained under her window?"

"Sure, I remember all that; keep going, now you've got started?" Fred broke in.

"And don't you remember her showin' us that collection of pretty stones she said were opals from a Mexican mine she had an interest in long ago?" the other asked, almost breathlessly.

"That's right, Bristles; and you said they just about caught your eye the worst kind," Fred observed. "Fact is, the old lady seemed to be tickled because you showed such a fancy for those milky stones that looked like 'moonlight,' as she called it."

"Gee! you remember too much, Fred," complained the other, with a grimace. "Because you see, it was that silly remark of mine that's gone and got me into a peck of trouble. I really didn't care so much for the things as I let on; but you know, my aunt is as rich as all get out; and it's kind of the fashion over to our house to make her feel good when we can. That was why, I reckon, I made out to admire her collection of opals like I did, though they were pretty enough. Wish now I'd kept my tongue between my teeth; or that it'd been you who took that notion to make out you was interested in 'em."

"And you mean she's lost some of the opals; is that it?" asked Fred.

"Two of 'em gone, she told me yesterday afternoon, when mother sent me over to take her a cake she'd made," Bristles continued.

"And did she really have the nerve to accuse you of stealing them, Bristles?"

"Well, hardly that," replied the other boy, gritting his teeth; "if she had, I reckon I'd a flamed right out, and told her what I thought of old maids that had vinegar natures--I've heard my mom say that, though she told me never to repeat it to Aunt Alicia for anything. You see she acted like she suspected me."

"Oh! and you felt bad on that account, eh?" questioned Fred.

"She told me she'd just been saying to Sallie Kemper, when she was in, that it was the _queerest thing ever_ that twice her lovely little opals disappeared when I visited her on my own account. And Fred, you know as well as I do what Sallie is."

"Sure I do," returned the other, promptly; "I hadn't been in Riverport a great many moons when I learned that she was considered the biggest gossip in the place."

"That's right," Bristles went on. "Sallie went around right away, and told how the rich Miss Muster suspected her own nephew of actually taking some of her beautiful and valuable jewels. It kept gettin'

bigger as it was told from one to another, and I just guess my sister Kate brought it home. Mom asked me if I'd done anything wrong, and I said point blank that I'd sooner cut my hand off than steal Aunt Alicia's opals, or touch anything she owned."

"Well, didn't that end it?" asked Fred, who had troubles of his own, and could feel for his chum.

"Oh! nothin' more was said; but I saw mom and pop talkin' together after supper; and when I went out I just know they rooted all around in my room, 'cause things was upset. But Fred, it's just _awful_ to feel everybody lookin' at you with a question in their eyes. I'll never be happy again till I find out what did become of those silly jewels of my aunt's."

"Oh! I wouldn't worry so much as that," counselled Fred. "Perhaps by now she's found where she put the things. Cheer up, Bristles, and think of the great times ahead of us boys of the Riverport school, with that jolly sh.e.l.l coming to us, and the river in fine shape for rowing this summer."

As they walked along the bank of the Mohunk, with Fred trying to cheer his companion up, a few words concerning the young fellows might be in place.

Fred Fenton had come to Riverport within the year. He lived with his father and mother, together with three smaller sisters, in a cottage not far removed from the bank of the river.

Mr. Fenton was employed by a concern in the town. He had at first been connected with a large manufacturing firm in Mechanicsburg, which was located some three miles up the river; but lost his position through the influence of Squire Lemington, who had a reason for wishing him to feel the biting pangs of poverty.

An uncle of Fred's had left some valuable property up in Alaska, which would make the Fentons comfortable if they could only get hold of it.

Unfortunately a big syndicate, with which Sparks Lemington was connected, pretended to have a claim on this mining property, and was doing everything possible to keep Mr. Fenton out of it.

An important witness, whose evidence would have undoubtedly proved the Fentons to be the genuine owners, had been mysteriously carried off.

His name was Hiram Masterson, and he was really a nephew of Sparks Lemington. Mr. Fenton had gone to the city late in the preceding Fall, under the belief that the missing witness was found; but arrived too late, since Hiram had been "shanghaied" aboard a sailing vessel belonging to the big syndicate, and carried away to unknown seas, perhaps never to return.

So hope had gradually dwindled down to a very faint spark in the b.r.e.a.s.t.s of the Fentons, though they still refused to utterly give up dreaming that some day all would be made right.

Fred had soon made many friends among the boys of Riverport, and some enemies as well. How he became the leading pitcher of the school team, and played his part in the great games against Paulding and Mechanicsburg, has been described in the first volume of this series, ent.i.tled "Fred Fenton, the Pitcher; Or, The Rivals of Riverport School."

The chief enemy of Fred was Buck Lemington, son of the Squire, who had planned to ruin the Fentons' hopes for fortune. And just how the bully of the town, taking pattern from his father's usual methods of procedure, tried to get Fred disgraced, so that he could not play on the football team that Fall, you will find described in the second volume called: "Fred Fenton in the Line; Or, The Football Boys of Riverport School."

During the Winter and early Spring Fred had continued to hold the good opinions of most of his schoolmates; and with the summer now at hand he was ready to join with a boy's enthusiasm in the new sports that the season brought in its train.

Talking earnestly, the two lads were still walking along the edge of the river some little distance above the town, when, just as they turned a bend in the stream, they heard a sharp scream, accompanied by much splashing in the water.