Radio Boys Loyalty Part 11

Again the man had proved to be correct. The boys agreed that forecasting the weather and the social geography of that region were in his line. He tried to run on again, but the starter refused to boost the engine and the battery nearly gave out. Bill insisted that they crank up and not exhaust the battery, else they would come to a dead stop. Gus and Tony lent a hand in turning the engine over and soon they were again bucking the drifts, stalling the engine two or three times within the next three hundred yards. A drift faced them that was altogether beyond hope, and before they drove into it, Bill insisted that they back over the thinner snow to the side of the road so that they would not be hit by another car if one should pull through such roads.

"Now then, you fellows!" said Bill, as usual a.s.suming command where anything important was at stake. "Go on to the farmhouse and bunk, if they'll have you. I'll wrap up in these robes and be as warm as toast here in the car." It was an enclosed tonneau, the window sashes fitted tightly and two big robes promised a little comfort.

"Yes, _you will_," said Gus sarcastically.

"_Not!_" declared Tony. "We can easy carry you. You say it--pig-on-back?"

The taxi driver joined in and helped the two boys in this, also.

"Did you say there's a farmhouse just on ahead, Mr.----?" asked Gus.

"Merritt is my name," answered the driver.

"And a roadside is your station. You're fast in the snow and you cannot go and you're mad at all creation," said Bill.

"You're right, son, about bein' stuck, but I ain't mad. Reckon I stand to lose on this trip, but----"

"No, my friend; you will not lose one cent," exclaimed Tony. "More, you shall make well. We are not the unappreciatives, ever. Show us this farmer estate and ent.i.tle us to be his guests and you shall want for nothing--eh, my friends Bill and Gus?"

"You've said it, Tony, and you are the cheese."

"Ah, no; I am but the macaroni. Do you think this farmer will cook the spaghetti?"

"Not likely, but Farrell sits down to a good table, I reckon," Merritt ventured. "Well, young fellers, let's mosey on. It'll be stiff goin', though 'tain't more'n a quarter of a mile now."

It was stiff going. Bill managed to get through the thin places and they helped him through fast increasing drifts, Gus at last getting him on his back for a "gain," as he expressed it, of fifty yards. Then Tony took a turn for a like distance, and Gus and Mr. Merritt crossed hands to "carry a lady to London"; so they would have got Bill along for a considerable distance had they not come opposite the end of a lane, with the dim outline of a house standing back.

Up the lane they went, hearing the m.u.f.fled barking of a dog. The side door of the house opened, a big farmer with a huge voice greeted them cheerily. He was in his shirt sleeves, which argued for comfort inside the dwelling, and there was an air of comfort in the broad hallway that was gratifying. The three were received like young princes and ushered into a large sitting-room. From their chairs before a big stove, a pleasant woman and two young girls rose to welcome the wayfarers.

Merritt they knew by name, and he began an apologetic effort to account for their coming, but Bill took the matter in hand.

"Mr. Farrell, aren't you? And I suppose this is Mrs. Farrell. My name is Brown and these are my friends, Mr. Sabaste and Mr. Grier; we are all students at Marshallton. Went in to Guilford to the stores and couldn't make it going back, though Mr. Merritt put up a good fight with his little car. And now we are going to ask you if you can keep us for the night,--table and spare room? Anything that is handy, for we don't want to give you trouble and we'll pay----"

"Ah, the best. As if you are one fine hotel, because no such could give to us more of comfort." This from Tony, who was always most liberal and eager to please. So saying, he pulled out ten one-dollar bills and gallantly tendered it to the lady, with a nod and smile at the farmer.

"That's right. The wife has all the trouble. You boys are welcome; eh, Sarah?"

"But John, this is too much. I could not accept such a large amount for so little."

"Mother," said one of the girls, coming forward, "you should not accept anything at all."

"Well, now, Mary, I guess you're right. This is our daughter, young gentlemen, and she always has her way."

"But she has not consider the way to justice," said Tony, his black eyes flashing conviction. "We give that, or we not remain; even it is too little."

"Yes, considering the storm, our predicament and our coming in on you this way, unasked, we can't consent to less," Bill added.

"Mabel, come here, girl," said the housewife, laughing. "This is my niece. She's making her home with us. Now, all you young folks and Mr.

Merritt enjoy yourselves while I get supper and father does the barn work."

The boys never forgot that long, yet all too short winter evening; the wholesome food; the dish of home-made candy; the fireside game of "twenty questions"; the music played by Mabel on the old-fashioned square piano, while Mary and Tony danced; the lively conversation and Bill's exhibition of so-called mind reading--really muscle reading, during which, with Mrs. Farrell and Mabel holding his wrists, he found, blindfolded, a hidden pocket knife.

Merritt had slipped out early to open the radiator of his car, which he had foolishly forgotten to do. He had come back and called Bill aside for a moment.

"There's another car down the road, just beyond mine; a big one and n.o.body about. I went along apiece to look at it and I think I know who it belongs to--that there new Eyetalian hash-house feller in Guilford.

Only one car there like it and that's his'n. You was askin' about him bein' in Guilford."

"Yes. We know him and he knows us. He could have found out you were taking us home and then have seen your car here and waited."

"You mean follered you? What'd he want to do----?"

"Is he still in his car?" interrupted Bill.

"I reckon so; think I saw four fellers in it. They can keep warm there and every now and then run their engine a bit to keep her from freezin'

up."

"They'll be drifted in, won't they?"

"Reckon not, with a big car like that; and the storm's goin' to quit."

"But that won't let us go on to-night. And what is that Italian up to?"

Bill dismissed the subject with Merritt, but resolved to tell Gus, though not Tony, as it would put a damper on their friend's peace of mind. What harm could come of Malatesta's being here? He could not approach the house without alarming the Farrell dog and that was a.s.surance enough. And Bill could not help being doubtful as to the Sicilian's being really dangerous. There might be such a thing as carrying this grudge business to extremes, but hardly here and in this storm.

Bill and Gus spent the night in the best spare room, under the heavy covers of an immense fourposter. They slept through the cold night like inanimate objects. Tony, alone, occupied a room which had evidently been that of an only son who had gone away to the Great War to remain away forever. There was c.r.a.pe hanging over the frame of a picture showing a st.u.r.dy, manly looking fellow in khaki. From the appearance of things, Tony, also, should have pa.s.sed a comfortable night. Merritt was tucked away to his entire satisfaction.

CHAPTER XVII

KIDNAPED

In the morning Bill and Gus were up at daylight, as was their habit. The storm had ceased, and it was turning warm, the snow melting already. The boys went to the barn to help with the milking; they got in some wood and performed other ch.o.r.es. Mr. Farrell, coming in, declared with his hearty laugh that they could stay as long as they might wish to, for they had certainly more than earned their food and lodging. As they went in to the breakfast table he said.

"Mother, better give that other young fellow his money back. Where is he, anyway? Not down yet?"

"Not yet," said Mrs. Farrell, "though I called him twice."

"I'll get him up and down," said Gus, going toward the stairway.

"Father, have you seen Gyp?" asked Mary Farrell. "I've called him too, but he doesn't come for his breakfast."

The farmer shook his head and, stepping to the back door, whistled sharply and at length. Turning to come in he heard a low whine and a quick search found the dog, lying on his side and unable to rise, his eyes dull and bloodshot, his tongue protruding. Mr. Farrell had seen something of the sort before. He picked up the poor little beast and carried him to a warm bed by the kitchen stove.

"Sarah, he's been poisoned! Nothing else. Getting over it, though.

What--?" And then they heard Gus calling from above.

"Bill! Bill! Come up here, quick! Tony's gone!"