Roy Blakeley's Bee-line Hike Part 15

"You could never climb up there," I said. "Anyway, _this_ is no false alarm. I saw him as plain as day."

"So did I," Westy whispered. Hunt and Will said they thought they had seen him too, but they weren't sure because they had been seeing everything on account of being so dizzy.

Westy said, "Don't talk loud, remember sound ascends."

I made believe I was looking all around at the sky and I stole a look up that way again. Just as I did I saw a kind of a movement. I kind of knew that the person away up there in that car was watching us and sticking his head out as much as he dared.

Westy said, "We don't know whether it's the bandit or not, but whoever it is, we've got him. He'd break his neck jumping from up there. He couldn't get hold of the trestle on either side of the car. That car must have been down here when we came along. Whoever it is, we've got him as sure as if we had handcuffs on him."

"We've _foiled_ him," the kid whispered. "You said boys never capture bandits and things except in books. _Now_ you see."

Westy said, "Well, we've sure got him, and believe me, that's a new way to capture a bandit."

"It shows that scouts are resourceful," Pee-wee said.

I said, "Sure, they're so resourceful they capture bandits without knowing it. We don't even know if he is a bandit."

"We know we've got him. Isn't that enough?" the kid said.

Jiminies, whoever he was, I could see we had him all right. He was as safe up there as he would have been in a dungeon. Because you can see how it was. The big tall trestle-work that held the axle was only as high as the middle of the wheel. Maybe he could have climbed down that, and maybe he couldn't. But from the middle of the wheel up to the top the iron-work wasn't close enough for him to reach from one brace to another. I didn't see how he could even get out of the car to the nearest girder. If he took a chance, he'd break his neck. I suppose, just like Westy said, he had made for the lowest car and it had gone up with him on account of our weight hanging onto some of the other cars.

Nine fellows are heavier than one. Gee whiz, it did seem a funny way to catch any one, but that fellow was caught, sure. I wondered how he felt up there.

"Do you think he'll take a chance of his life?" one of the fellows asked.

"I bet he's half crazy up there," I said.

"Maybe he'll shoot," the kid said, kind of scared.

"What good would that do him?" Will said. "He'd have to shoot the whole nine of us, six or seven of us anyway, before the wheel would move. And besides, the axle is in his way."

"If we all leave here the car will come down," Warde Hollister said. "He could rock it so as to get the wheel started."

"It's rocking a little now," Westy said.

"I know what I'm going to do," I told them. "I'm going to find out who he is, if I can."

"You're not going to go up and ask him!" the kid said. "You might better use the megaphone. Safety first."

I said, "I'm going to make believe I'm hunting for something and see if there are any footprints around. If there are and they're from the direction of the river, that will look bad."

On the fancy seats were four wooden k.n.o.bs, two on each seat. I said, "Turn one of those and see if it screws off."

Warde was sitting at the end of one of the seats and he kept turning the k.n.o.b till it came off.

I said, "Reach down under your knees--don't anybody look up--reach down under your knees and wrap your handkerchief tight around that k.n.o.b, so it will look like a baseball or a tennis ball. Then throw it over here."

The paint was all gone from those k.n.o.bs and the wood was all cracked and rotten like all the wood in that old park. I wanted the ball to look white so it would be good and plain to the fellow up there.

In a few seconds Warde and I began throwing it to each other. No one would be suspicious seeing us, that's sure. Pretty soon I threw it good and hard, like Christy Matthewson, only different, and it went flying out in the direction of the river and dropped. It went in the long gra.s.s.

And then is when I had good luck. Because I didn't have to go five feet from that car before I found something. So you see I didn't get off the track of our bee-line enough to really call it getting off the track.

I made believe I was hunting for the ball, and in about ten seconds, good night, right there near the car were footprints. I could see them as plain as day. They came from the direction of the river, too. Not in a bee-line the way we had come. But just the same they came from the river, all right.

"I can't find the pesky old ball," I shouted. "Why don't you throw straight when you're throwing? Come on, let's go to Little Valley and get some ice cream cones. We should worry."

"I like this old car," Westy shouted. "If we leave it maybe the wind will carry it up. Let's tie it with our rope and come back here and eat our supper in it on the way home. After that it can spin around till it gets dizzy for all we care. Wha'd' you say?"

I could just hear him saying, "Shhh," to the other fellows.

That's Westy Martin all over; he always has his wits about him. I'd carry mine around with me, too, if I had any, only I haven't got any.

Sometimes Pee-wee has good ideas, but he doesn't carry them with him because he has so much else to carry. But Westy has a dandy brain, I'll say that for him. I saw right away what he was driving at.

"That's a crackerjack idea," I shouted. "Let's eat our supper here on the way back. We'll tie the car and then we can loosen it again afterwards. Come on, let's hurry up. This is a nice lonely place to eat in and n.o.body anywhere around to bother us."

"Hurrah!" they all shouted.

CHAPTER XXI

FETTERS

So that's the way we did. As we went away we were all careful not to look up, and we talked about all different things as if we didn't know there was any one up in that wheel at all. And if anybody ever tells you that boy scouts can't really catch grown-up people except in books, you can tell them I said they can do it in amus.e.m.e.nt parks too.

"I hope he's the highwayman, anyway," I said to Pee-wee. "You're not the only one that goes up in the air."

"It shows what scouts can do," Pee-wee said. "We bound him with ropes, didn't we?"

"Absolutely," I said, "only the rope was quite a way off from him."

"What difference does that make?" he wanted to know. "He's held by ropes, isn't he? Can you deny that?"

"I guess you're right," Westy laughed.

"What are we going to do now?" Hunt wanted to know.

"We're going to keep our eyes on that tree," I said, "and go in a bee-line. It will take more than an auto bandit to get me off the straight path. Don't look back whatever you do."

I guess it was about five o'clock then; anyway it must have been after four because we were getting hungry. It's strenuous work catching bandits. The tree up on the ridge was all kind of red. The sky was bright over there and it looked fine. That's the time I like best, when the sun begins to get red. I was wondering if we could see my house when we got up on the ridge.

Pretty soon we climbed over the old amus.e.m.e.nt park fence and then we just had to cut straight across fields till we came to Little Valley.

Before we got there all the windows in the houses looked as if there were lights shining inside of them. That was a sign the sun was beginning to go down. When the windows look bright like that in August you'll know it's after five o'clock. In Bridgeboro at six o'clock some of the houses in Little Valley look as if they were on fire. We got fooled that way once. We went all the way there by the road and there wasn't any building burning down at all. Gee whiz, we were mad!

Little Valley isn't so big. The fellows over there come to Bridgeboro High School. There's a one-patrol troop there. Harry Donnelle lives there too. He told us whenever we came to Little Valley to be quiet so as not to wake the people up. He says that place ought to be called Rip Van Winkleberg. But anyway, I don't see how you can wake a town up if it's dead. The only thing that's quick about Little Valley is some quicksand near the creek. But they've got a good ball field there for the Bridgeboro team to beat them on. Anyway, I'm not so stuck on baseball. Me for stalking and tracking and all that.

Now when we got to Little Valley we marched in formation just the same as we did in Bridgeboro, two rows of three fellows each. I marched ahead with my official staff and we let Warde Hollister go ahead of us all with the cardboard standard because he didn't have any scout suit. I bet Little Valley felt like Belgium when it saw us coming.