The Grammar School Boys of Gridley Part 23

"There, your hands are free," announced practical Dave. "How long have you been here, Holmesy?"

"Since Sat.u.r.day afternoon."

"Had anything to eat?" d.i.c.k wanted to know.

"No; and I'll have to get the taste of that vile oak.u.m out of my mouth before I can endure the taste of food," uttered Greg dismally.

Darrin had made the last slash at Greg's foot-lashings.

"Now, get up, old fellow!"

Both helped young Holmes to his feet, but he would have fallen had not d.i.c.k caught him.

"Circulation's all stopped," muttered Greg disgustedly. "No wonder! The scoundrels must have tied me as tight as they knew how. Ugh! That fierce oak.u.m taste!"

"Say, you'll be the hero of the town when you get home, Greg,"

proclaimed Dan Dalzell, who had groped his way to the spot.

"Hero? With that oak.u.m taste in my mouth?" sputtered young Holmes.

"Bosh! I'd sooner have a good gargle than be two heroes!"

While d.i.c.k supported the rescued boy, Dave Darrin was rubbing Greg's legs roughly up and down to promote better circulation.

"Now, take a few steps," advised Dave. "See how you can go."

Supported by d.i.c.k's arm, Greg did fairly well in the way of walking. Of course every step that he took helped restore the circulation.

"Wow! There's going to be an exciting time in Gridley," grinned Dan Dalzell.

"What day is it now?" inquired Greg.

"Monday--afternoon," Prescott answered.

"My folks must be stirred up."

"They're crazy," Dan supplied very impressively.

"How far is this place from Gridley?"

"Six miles. Don't you know where you are, Greg!"

"Haven't an idea in the world."

"How did you get here? What happened?"

"Wait a little while," begged Greg. "I've just got to spit all the oak.u.m taste out of my mouth before I want to do much talking."

By this time they were at the tunnel that led outside.

"Hullo, Tom!" called d.i.c.k through the tunnel.

"Hullo yourself, and see how you like it!" came from outside.

"Tom," cried d.i.c.k joyously, "we've found Greg! We're bringing him with us."

"Can't he bring himself?" demanded Reade. Then, in a suddenly scared voice:

"Is he--dead?"

"Dead sore on oak.u.m as a food," laughed Dan, grinning broadly.

d.i.c.k, holding the light, was piloting Greg through the tunnel. In a few moments all were outside. Tom and Harry danced a jig for sheer joy.

"Greg, aren't you thirsty?" demanded d.i.c.k, as young Holmes stood blinking in the bright sunlight.

"I shall be, as soon as I get the oak.u.m washed out of my mouth,"

grimaced Greg. "Whew! What a vile taste that sort of stuff has!"

"Folks in the good old town won't believe us when we get back," muttered Darrin.

"Yes, they will; they'll have to," insisted Dan, producing some articles from one of his pockets. "Here are some of the cords you cut from Greg's wrists and ankles, and here's some of the oak.u.m."

"Throw that oak.u.m stuff away, or else hide it. Please do," begged young Holmes, making a wry face.

"Come on. There's no time to be lost," advised d.i.c.k. "We've got a long way to go, and Greg needs the exercise. Besides, he's thirsty and hungry--or ought to be."

Within five minutes the Grammar School boys came across a spring. There Greg knelt and took in several mouthfuls, one after another, for the purpose of rinsing his mouth of that nauseating oak.u.m taste. Then, at last, he swallowed water freely.

"My, but it's good to be out in the world again," breathed Greg happily.

"But how did you fellows find me?"

"The whole town turned out to search," d.i.c.k explained. "There was no school to-day. And we came across clues that led us here. That's enough, from our side. Now, tell us how you came to be in such a fix."

At this point the Grammar School boys came out on the highway.

"Better each put a few stones in your pockets, fellows," advised d.i.c.k Prescott, stooping. "If we should meet any one we don't want to meet, stones might not prove such bad ammunition. Now, Greg, start in and tell us what happened."

"You know that big clump of bushes near the landing at Payson's?" asked young Holmes.

"Yes."

"Well, Sat.u.r.day afternoon I landed, tied the canoe and then, with a gunny sack on my arm, started toward the orchard. Just as I was going by the bushes I heard a little noise. Before I could turn I was thrown flat. Then a man was on top of me, holding my nose ground into the dirt."

"Dexter? Driggs?" questioned Prescott.

"I couldn't see who it was. Next thing my own gunny sack was forced over my head. I could feel, now, that there were two men working over me.

Then my hands were yanked behind me and tied. Next my feet. I forgot to say that when I was thrown I was hurled in among the bushes. Well, after I had been bound a dark cloth of some kind was pa.s.sed around the sack over my eyes."