The High School Captain of the Team Part 36

Thus the happy young egotists always talked, nowadays. To them there was really little in life that did not come through the government military academies.

Phin Drayne, lounging about purposely, with the shambling gait, often saw these happy chums, and scowled after them.

"Everything seems to come to them!" growled Phin. "What rot it is to say that this is a square world, and that everyone has the same chance! Why doesn't something good come my way?"

The oftener Phin looked in the direction of the chums, and more particularly of d.i.c.k, the blacker did Drayne's thoughts become.

"Prescott has had everything come his way ever since he entered High School," growled Phin. "And now the mucker is going off to West Point, and the government is going to stamp him 'gentleman.'

A gentleman? Pooh! I'd like to show him up, as a b.u.mptious upstart.

Phin scowled fiercely for a moment, before he added:

"And, by glory, I will do something to him! I'll take the conceit out of d.i.c.k Prescott!"

At first it was only the purpose that formed in Drayne's dark mind. But, by dint of much thinking, he began to feel that he saw the way of working to Prescott's complete disgrace.

d.i.c.k, in the meantime, was still writing occasionally for "The Blade."

"I'm afraid you've slipped away from us, d.i.c.k," declared Mr. Pollock, with a wry smile. "If you go to West Point and pa.s.s the exams.

there, then newspaper work is going to lose one of its bright, promising young men."

"But I always told you that my plans would undoubtedly take me away from 'The Blade' when my High School life was done with,"

Prescott answered.

"Yes; but why do you want the life of the uniform? That's what I fail to understand? Why don't you go into something connected with the pulsing everyday life of the country? Here you are, going away to bury yourself in a uniform. You'll work, of course; the Army is no place for loafers. But after all, you're only preparing for war, and you may be an old, white-haired officer before we have another war."

"If that war does come in your life time," returned d.i.c.k, "you'll know what we of the uniforms have been working for all along.

You'll realize, then, that an Army's biggest work isn't fighting, in time of war, but preparing in time of peace. And you'll thank every one of us when the time comes."

"Oh, yes, I suppose so," smiled the editor. "But it all seems so far away. Now, here is something much more practical right at hand. Take these burglaries that have been annoying the small merchants lately. The police don't seem to be able to catch the fellow. For the last three days I've taken Len Spencer off of all other work and set him to trying to run down the burglar.

Now, Len isn't afraid of much, and he's one of the brightest young reporters going. Yet Len admits he's stumped. All the while the merchants are fearing that the burglar will bring about bigger losses. d.i.c.k Prescott, if you could catch that burglar, and see him sent off where he belongs, you'd be doing a vastly greater service to the community than you possibly could by helping the country prepare for a war that is thirty or forty years away."

"I wouldn't mind having a crack at the burglar scare, either,"

laughed d.i.c.k. "But the question is, how am I going to go about it to catch the fellow? He has baffled all the police, and even Len Spencer. What show have I for finding the rascal?"

"Just the same, d.i.c.k, I believe you would catch him, if you'd set your mind and your energies to it. Will you do it? Will you put in a week trying to run down this burglar and give 'The Blade' the first chance at the story? I'll agree, in advance, to pay you for whatever time you'll put in on it for a week, if even you are not successful in running him down."

"I'll think it over," d.i.c.k replied, with a quiet smile. "I'll talk it over with Dave."

"There's another mighty bright young fellow!" cried the editor.

"Now, why can't you get Darrin to go into it with you? I'll pay Darrin for his time, too."

Dave, when the project was sprung on him, gave his hearty a.s.sent.

"It won't do any harm to have a try at it, anyway, d.i.c.k," urged Darrin. "It'll wake us up a bit, too. Not that I've any real and abiding idea that we're going to catch Mr. Burglar."

"If we're in earnest we're going to catch him," declared Prescott.

"That's the old Gridley High School way, you know. What well start on we've got to put through."

Night after night, in that cold January week, d.i.c.k and Dave slipped out late at night, and prowled about through the business district of Gridley. Very often the chums ran across the police, but both were known well to the police, and were not challenged. Indeed, the police soon learned that d.i.c.k and Dave were employed by "The Blade" for the purpose of a.s.sisting in the efforts to capture the mysterious burglar or burglars.

In that week two more "breaks" happened, and each time the thief or thieves got away with valuable booty.

"You youngsters don't seem to be having any luck," remarked Editor Pollock. "But keep on the case a little longer. I know you'll land something sooner or later. Keep ahead, just as if you had to score a touchdown before the half was over."

So for two nights d.i.c.k and Dave kept out, with equally bad luck.

One night at eleven o'clock d.i.c.k answered the home telephone.

He listened in amazement, then tried to find out who his informant was, but the latter rang off promptly.

"I believe that is straight," muttered d.i.c.k. "At all events, I'll look into this game for all it's worth. What if we are about to catch the thief red-handed?"

s.n.a.t.c.hing up a heavy walking stick, d.i.c.k Prescott hurriedly quitted the house.

CHAPTER XXIII

The Plight of the Innocent

If the information that had come over the wire from an unknown was correct there was not a moment to be lost in telephoning.

It was a masculine voice that had sounded in the 'phone and the message was to the effect that the sender of the message had just observed two men forcing the rear entrance of Kahn's drygoods store.

"And hearing that 'The Blade' is trying to catch the burglars I thought I'd just let you know," the voice had continued. "But I guess you'll have to be quick if you want a sight of the burglars.

They'll probably get away in quick order."

Then had come the ring-off, just as d.i.c.k had tried to get the name of his informant.

Now d.i.c.k was sprinting toward the scene by the shortest route that he could think of.

Kahn's store was on Main Street, but the rear entrance, used for the receipt of goods opened in off an alleyway that ran parallel with Main Street.

"There can't be much time to spare," muttered d.i.c.k, looking hard for a policeman.

At this late hour of the night the streets that d.i.c.k traveled in his haste were bare of pedestrians.

"I wish I had had time to get Dave," though Prescott. "But that would have lost at least five minutes more. And Dave wasn't going to be ready to go out until he came around for me nearer midnight."

d.i.c.k was at the head of the alley, now, an moving cautiously, eyes wide open and ears on the alert.

How dark it was down in here! d.i.c.k wondered, a moment, at the keenness of vision that had enabled some neighbor to see what was going on over in this dark place.

In his pocket, at the time of receiving the message, Prescott had placed a pocket electric "search-light."

This he thought of, now, but he did not deem it wise to go flashing the light about unless he had to.