The Boys of the Wireless Part 17

"I shall not lose any sleep over the terrible warning," laughed Tom lightly.

"I'd take the beach road when I went up to see Grace Morgan, though, if I were you," suggested Ben. "Talking of something else, Tom, have you said anything to Harry along the 'Donner' line?"

"Not a word. Our mysterious spook seems to have given up his erratic messages."

"That name, 'Donner,' struck Harry all of a heap, just the same."

"Well, he's a fine fellow, and I'm not going to pry into his secrets."

"I wonder what old 'Donner' was after, anyhow?" observed Ben, "with his mysterious 'messages,' and his 'thousand dollars.'"

"And the boy with the sun, moon and stars on his left shoulder," smiled Tom.

No orders had come to Station Z for work that night, and at five o'clock the boys locked up the tower. They parted when they reached the village, Ben taking the road south and Tom proceeding homeward alone.

He was up in his room changing his working clothes, when his mother appeared at the bottom of the stairs to tell him that Ben Dixon was on the telephone.

"Ben wants you to call him up before you go out to-night," advised Mrs.

Barnes.

"All right," sang down Tom.

He forgot all about Ben when he came downstairs, full of his plans for the evening. Grace Morgan had invited him down to Fernwood, so Tom had asked his mother to give him an early supper. Then, in the bustle of getting a lift as far as the crossroads in a pa.s.sing rig, he left the house in a great hurry, and never thought of his chum again until he left the wagon.

"I won't go back," decided Tom. "It can't be anything very particular Ben wants to see me about. I've got plenty of time, too, and can stroll around his way before I go to see Grace."

Tom pa.s.sed down the winding road, but on the way ringing boyish shouts beyond a thicket caused him to deviate from his course. As he came to where a fringe of shrubbery lined the banks of Silver Brook, he nearly ran into a man who stood peering past them at a merry group of boys sporting in the sparkling waters of the stream.

There was so much that was ill-favored in the face of the man, something so sinister in his pose, that it suggested to Tom the lurker with a purpose. Tom halted and regarded the man closely. Then he peered past him at the group sporting in the water.

Their leader was Harry Ashley, and he was in great evidence. At just that moment he was giving them a specimen of rapid hand over hand water climbing. His admiring friends cheered as Harry made a marvelous dash of some fifty yards, described a disappearing dive with wonderful dexterity, and, coming to the surface, landed on a rock not twenty feet away from the observing stranger and Tom, and stood shaking the water from hair and face.

"Ah-h!" suddenly exclaimed the strange man, craning his neck, losing his balance, falling flat; and then, discovering Tom, he scowled at him, and suddenly disappeared in the underbrush.

"The mischief!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Tom, as he too glanced at Harry.

The back of the latter was towards him. Tom experienced a queer thrill as he saw what the stranger had also seen.

Upon Harry Ashley's left shoulder, plainly tattooed, was a sun, a moon and some stars!

CHAPTER XIII-THE BLACK CAPS

Harry Ashley, all unconscious of the fact that he was under inspection from others than his aquatic comrades, gave a yell and dove away from the rock.

"Here's something to think about!" said Tom in startled wonderment. "Ben was right-Harry is a boy with a mystery, just as he said."

Tom's first impulse was to advance among the noisy crowd of swimmers, or linger under cover and intercept Harry when he started for home, and challenge him for some explanation.

Then it occurred to him that he had no right to pry into Harry's secrets. At first the case looked strange and grave. At second thought, however, it occurred to Tom that the discovery of the fact that a man whom they called "Donner" was supposedly seeking a certain Ernest Warren, and that Harry Ashley fitted into the affair because he had tattooed marks on his back, was not such an important circ.u.mstance after all.

Presumably this wireless operator was the man whose five hundred dollars Harry had accidentally burned up. This set Tom thinking on a new tack.

"'Donner' is certainly very anxious to find Harry, if he really is this Ernest Warren," mused Tom. "He seems willing to pay money to find him.

What for-to punish him? Hardly. Then something of importance may have happened to change the face of affairs, and if this would be of any benefit to Harry he ought to know about it. I know what I'll do-I'll get down and tell Ben what I have discovered, and we'll decide together what is best to do in the case."

Tom started to leave the spot. He glanced all about for some trace of the sinister appearing lurker he had seen watching the swimmers, but found none.

"Maybe I am just imagining that fellow was particularly interested in Harry," ruminated Tom. "He is probably some strolling tramp, and was casually watching those antics in the water."

Tom glanced at his watch. It was two miles over to the Dixon place. It was fast getting on to dusk. Tom calculated that he would reach the farm by dusk, have half an hour to spare with Ben, and reach the Morgan mansion by eight o'clock. He had changed his plans since leaving home, his original purpose being to arrive before nightfall at the Morgan home while there was enough daylight left to play a game of tennis with Grace.

It was a short cut to the Dixon place by taking a road through the woods, and Tom kept on planning how he would utilize the moments until he reached Fernwood, and antic.i.p.ating the usual pleasant time he always had with pretty Grace Morgan. He was just thinking how happily and usefully life was rounding out for him, when there came an abrupt interruption to his pleasing reverie.

Just as he was pa.s.sing a thick copse where the road turned and high trees on either side shut the highway into dimness and obscurity, there was a rustle in the underbrush.

"Halt!"

A form stepped into view suddenly. It was that of a boy. In his hand he poised a long pole sharpened at the end. This he directed straight at Tom.

"Halt!"

A second figure came quite as magically into view. Then a third, a fourth, a fifth and sixth, and the astounded Tom stared vaguely at a perfect circle formed about him by the s.e.xtette.

"Why," he began, turning in a ring and discovering that each one of the group wore a sable-lined hood over his head with slits cut in for eyes, nose and mouth, "I understand now-the Black Caps."

"That's right," responded a voice from behind one of the masks, disguised into great gruffness. "March!"

"March where?" demanded Tom, a half amused smile on his face.

"Don't fool," spoke a second voice quickly. "Get him under cover."

"Yes, someone may come along," spoke another of the masked crowd.

"Now!"

The leader of the gang gave the order. His coterie was well trained. To a man they dropped their spears to the ground, and made a general rush for Tom.

"Hold on, Bill Barber!" said Tom, as he was seized by five pairs of st.u.r.dy hands.

"Bill Barber isn't here," declared the former gruff voice.

"What do you want of me, whoever you are?" demanded Tom.

"You come along and see."