The Flickering Torch Mystery Part 4

The boys sat down to discuss the evening's happenings in whispered tones. The more they thought of the strange events of the past hour, the more they were convinced that Mr.

Grable's troubles lay very close to home.

"I think Archibald Jenkins will bear watching," said Frank.

Joe agreed. '' He's not a very loyal a.s.sistant, leaving that big hole for the valuable moths to escape through,'' he added. '' If Jenkins broke the gla.s.s by accident, why would he run away?"

"It's my opinion something frightened him," said Frank.

Joe nodded. "You mean the burglar? Maybe. If so, he's a fine kind of guard. On the other hand, it might be that he and the burglar were about to do some thieving, when one of them broke the gla.s.s by accident, and both ran away.''

"We can try to keep an eye on Archibald," said Joe, "but that won't be easy, because he he is keeping an eye on us." us."

The boys crept quietly up the stairs to bed, thankful that Aunt Gertrude was not sitting up waiting for them. But there was no escaping that watchful lady at breakfast. She had fire in her eyes.

45 "At what outrageous hour," she demanded sternly,'' did you two come in last night ?''

"It was pretty late, Aunt Gertrude," admitted Frank meekly.

"Late!" she snorted. "It must have been mighty near morning. What will Mrs. Trumpet think of the Hardy family if you boys go gallivanting around the countryside until all hours?"

Mrs. Trumper came into the dining room just then, carrying a great platter of ham and eggs.

"Wait until they've worked at the S. E. F. for a few days," she chuckled. "They'll be so tired, they'll want to be in bed at sundown."

"What's the S. E. FJ" asked Aunt Gertrude.

"The State Experimental Farm, of course. That's what everyone calls it hereabouts."

Mrs. Trumper looked up at the clock. "And I think these lads had better hurry and eat their breakfast. We don't want them to be late."

The very thought that the Hardy boys might be late for their first morning at work agitated Aunt Gertrude so much that she forgot to ask them why they had been so late getting to bed the previous night. She hovered over them like a motherly hen, while they ate generous quant.i.ties of ham, eggs and hot cakes. Then she sent them on their way with a perfect hurricane of advice against getting their feet wet, and standing out in the hot sun!

Frank and Joe returned the horses to the 46 8. E. F. stables. On foot they found the under-water farming section without difficulty, and reported to the foreman in charge of all work in that area. He was a lanky, elderly man named Warren, who nodded briefly when they introduced themselves.

"The S. E. F. director told me about you." He summoned a short, s.h.a.ggy-haired man in high boots and overalls. "Boots! Come over here a minute."

It appeared that "Boots" was the s.h.a.ggy-haired man's nickname. His rubber boots were so huge that they seemed to be a good three-quarters of his costume. He shambled over, and at first sight, the Hardys had a feeling that they and Boots were not going to get along.

The man stared at them in a surly manner and grunted: "Yeah?"

"These lads are going to work in your underwater section," said Warren. "I'll be away a few days, so I'll turn them over to you. Show them what they're to do, will you?"

The foreman hurried away. The s.h.a.ggy-haired man inspected the boys grumpily.

"So!" he muttered. "I'm to be nursemaid to a couple of kids, am I?"

"If you'll just tell us what we're to do," smiled Frank, "I think you'll find we can perform a full day's work."

Boots gestured toward a long row of metal tanks, half full of water. '' They put chemicals and stuff in there,'' he grunted. '' Plants grow.

47 Also weeds." He jerked his thumb toward some hip boots hanging from the wall of a near-by shed. "You put them on over them overalls and you pull weeds."

The Hardy boys each picked out a pair and put them on. Then they waited for further instructions. The man sat down on the edge of a tank and regarded them sourly.

"Well," he said, "get to work."

"Which are the weeds and which are the plants?" Frank asked.

Boots sniffed disagreeably. '' I knew you two wouldn't be any good the minute I laid eyes on you. If you don't know the difference between weeds and good plants, what are you workin' here for?"

Frank and Joe saw that they were not going to get far with the unpleasant man. He had taken a dislike to them from the beginning, and it was evident that he had made up his mind not to give them any help. The younger boy climbed into the nearest tank and began pulling at the slimy weeds.

"Now look what you're doing!" shouted Boots angrily.

"I'm pulling weeds."

"You're pullin' up good plants."

"Well, then, how are we to know the difference?" spoke up Frank.

"You won't be here long enough to make it worth while showing you anything," grumbled the man.

48 "Is that so?" said Frank, climbing into the tank beside his brother. "We'll just have to hope we clean out weeds instead of plants."

Boots scowled. It was evident that he thought the boys would give up. But they went to work industriously, pulling up everything that looked like a weed.

"Now you see here," growled Boots angrily, "I'm not going to have these good plants pulled up. Get out of that tank, both of you."

"It's your job to show us the right way to do this work,'' Joe reminded him. " If we 're doing it wrong, it's not our fault.''

'' We '11 see about that,'' stormed Boots. " I '11 tell the director to fire the pair of you.''

He strode away, muttering to himself. The Hardy boys watched him go. Then Joe climbed slowly out of the tank.

"I still think I'm right about those weeds," he said. "The big green vines are the good plants.''

Frank clambered out. "I think Boots is bluffing. I don't believe he went to get the director at all."

"He certainly doesn't want us here. He deliberately tried to make us angry so we'd quit."

"He'll have to try harder." said Joe quietly. "We came here to work and n.o.body is going to stop us!"

He was just about to enter the tank again, when the boys heard a wild yell a little distance away.

"Whoa, there! Whoa!" roared a man's voice. And someone else shouted, "Look out!

Eunaway!"

Then came the thunder of horses' hoofs. Charging directly toward the boys was a big black horse, riderless, with reins dangling loosely from its neck. A stableman dashed in pursuit, waving his arms and shouting: "Look out! Eunaway horse!''

Joe, though hampered by the heavy hip boots, leaped forward into the middle of the roadway. The galloping steed thundered toward him in a cloud of dust. The boy sprang at the frightened animal, grabbing the reins. But the horse did not stop. It pounded on, dragging the boy with him.

"Joe!" yelled his brother, aghast. "Oh, he'll be trampled to death!" he thought wildly.

CHAPTER VI.

AN UNPLEASANT MEETING.

joe clung to the reins with both hands, thinking that the weight of his body would bring the horse to a stop. He hung on desperately, swinging within a few inches of the deadly steel-shod hoofs as the horse thundered on.

"He'll be killed!" shouted the stableman.

Frank gazed in horror. There was nothing he could do. Joe's daring gamble to stop the runaway had failed. It seemed that at any moment he would lose his grip on the reins and be trampled underfoot.

Then, across a field, raced a sleek, bay horse with a blue-clad figure in the saddle. The animal took a fence at a bound, wheeled in swiftly beside the runaway, and galloped alongside. The man in blue leaned forward, reached out, and seized the runaway horse by the bridle. The next instant the two animals pulled to a stop, rearing and plunging.

Joe was flung clear. He rolled over and over in the roadway, sprawled out at the base of the fence. He struggled slowly to his knees, and got to his feet as his brother ran up to him.

"Are you hurt?" Frank asked breathlessly.

Joe rubbed some dirt from his eyes. He shook his head groggily.

"I don't think so," he said, feeling his body for bruises. "I feel as if I'd been through a threshing machine, though."

A few yards down the road the erstwhile runaway was now under control. The man on the bay horse had turned the animal around and was leading it back. The boys saw that the rider was clad in a policeman's uniform. Joe limped over to thank him.

"I'm certainly obliged to you-" he began, but the man on horseback cut him short with a smile.

"Forget it, lad. I'm obliged to you. you. If you hadn't tackled Wildfire the way you did, he might If you hadn't tackled Wildfire the way you did, he might have broken a leg."

He leaned over and slapped the big black horse on the neck. Wildfire was quite docile now. He whinnied.

"I tackled him, all right," grinned Joe, "but I didn't stop him."

"No," admitted the man on horseback, "you didn't stop him. That's a trick in itself. Look -I'll show you as soon as I put Wildfire away. It may come in handy some day."

He swung himself out of the saddle. He stroked the runaway's nose to soothe the trembling animal, then gave the reins to the stableman who came running up. Wildfire was led back to his stall.

The man in the blue uniform now turned to 52 the boys. '' My name's Tom Casey. I train the horses for the Bayport Police Department,'' he said. "If ever you have to stop another runaway, watch this.''

He gave a command to the big bay, which wheeled and trotted away obediently. When the animal was about fifty yards off, Tom Casey clapped his hands sharply. The horse turned and waited, watching his master. Casey raised a whistle to his lips and blew.

Instantly, the horse broke into a run. It was thundering down the roadway at top speed by the time it reached the policeman. Tom Casey stepped to the side of the road, timing his move. Suddenly he jumped, his arm shot out, and he grabbed the galloping animal by the bridle.

The horse swerved, and Casey ran with it a step or two, swung lightly up around its neck, and tightened the reins. The animal reared for a moment, then steadied. Its forefeet dropped to the roadway and it stood quietly awaiting the next command. Tom Casey gave his mount a friendly pat and grinned at the boys.

"It's easy when you know how," he laughed.

The Hardy boys were lost in admiration of the trainer's horsemanship.

"We might be able to do it that smoothly if we practiced for two or three years," said Frank. '' Eight now it looks like regular circus stuff."

*'It takes practice, all right," agreed Casey.

53 "Come around some morning and I'll give you fellows a lesson in handling horses." He gave the reins a flip and the big bay cantered off.

" We'd better get to work," said Frank. "If Boots should come back with the director and find us loafing, he'd make trouble."

However, the man did not return with the director; in fact, he did not come back at all, and the boys went on with their weeding unmolested. Later they saw him at the far end of the row of tanks, but he did not come near them. They concluded that they could not have been doing any damage to the good plants, and that his threat to report them had been, as Frank had surmised, nothing but a bluff.

Frank and Joe went back to the Trumper farm to lunch. Aunt Gertrude was shocked at their muddy appearance, and was all for telephoning the Experimental Farm office at once to "give them a piece of her mind." She had expected, she said, that the boys would be a.s.signed to nice, clean work.

"The idea!" she snorted. "Making you grovel around like pigs."

The brothers returned to the tanks at one o'clock. During the afternoon no one came near them. At five o'clock the Hardy boys clambered out, wet and tired. They removed their dripping boots, and started for home. They had finished a hard day's work. It had not been the sort of employment they had expected, but they did not grumble, for already 54 they had learned several things about one of the newest types of farming.

"I can't say I I enjoy wallowing around a tank of water all day, but it could have been enjoy wallowing around a tank of water all day, but it could have been worse," remarked Frank.

"We'll probably have web feet by the end of summer," Joe laughed. "I "I wish they'd put us wish they'd put us to work helping Tom Casey with the horses."

"That would be a break. I hope supper is ready. I'm starving."

The meal was on the table when they reached the Trumper farmhouse. They stopped on the back porch to wash.

"I thought you'd be hungry," said Mrs. Trumper in a soft voice, looking out through the screen door from the kitchen. "Your aunt thought you might be too tired to eat, though."

"How have you been getting along with Aunt Gertrude?" Joe asked from the depths of the roller towel, as he dried the back of his neck.

"Miss Hardy is a remarkable woman," the farm lady replied, a shy blush staining her cheeks. '' I like her.''

"She's a remarkable woman, all right," agreed Frank. "Some people find her a little hard to understand. You don't find her a little -bossy, for instance?"

"Well, perhaps," answered Mrs. Trumper quietly. "But I like that. It reminds me of my late husband. I depended on him for everything."

The boys were glad Mrs. Trumper and Aunt 55 Gertrude had decided to become friends. Their relative's dictatorial manner sometimes frightened strangers before they had a chance to discover what a kindly soul she really was.

"Did they make you work in the pigpens again this afternoon 1" Aunt Gertrude wanted to know as soon as they all sat down to the table.

'' We weren 't in the pigpens. Just the tanks,'' Joe explained patiently. " It wasn 't bad.''

"How large is your farm, Mrs. Trumper?" Frank inquired, trying to draw the modest woman into the conversation.