The Young Bridge-Tender Part 25

CHAPTER XVIII.

ABOUT A POCKET-KNIFE.

Ralph was as much interested as any one else in the fact that the Westville post office had been robbed. He mingled with the crowd in his eagerness to learn the particulars.

But, being a boy, he was pushed aside by the men, and no attention was paid to the story he had to tell about the two men and the boy he had seen running away.

Then the thought of his mother suffering at home rushed into Ralph's mind.

What would she think of his long absence?

"Robbery or no robbery, I must go to the doctor's, and get back home as fast as I can," he said to himself.

And five minutes after the excitement began he was once more on his way to Dr. Foley's residence.

When he reached the physician's place it was several minutes before he could arouse the doctor and make him understand what was wanted. Then it took ten minutes more for the doctor to fix up a plaster and some medicine.

Ralph had lost so much time that, although he wished to learn more of the robbery, he decided to go home by a short cut across the fields instead of by the village streets.

He set out on a run through the darkness. He knew the path well, and did not mind the rough places which had to be crossed or the spots where the bushes grew thickly.

When he reached the little woods just in front of the house he fancied he heard a footstep near at hand. He stopped short, wondering what it could be.

"There can't be any animals about," he thought. "Perhaps it's Luke Jackson's dog--he comes about here occasionally."

He heard the steps again, coming from toward the cottage. Then, before he could locate them closely, they ceased altogether.

"Tige! Tige!" he called, for that was the name of the dog to which he had referred.

No answer came back, nor did any dog put in an appearance. Ralph waited a few seconds longer, and then made straight for the house.

He found his mother sitting in the kitchen, nursing her pain as best she could.

"You have been quite long, Ralph," she said. "Or else it is my pain makes the time seem longer."

"I lost a little time at the post office, mother."

"At the post office! Why, what were you doing there at this time of night?"

"The safe has been blown open and robbed. It happened just as I came along."

"You don't say! Did you learn the particulars?"

"I did not wait for that. There was a crowd gathering, and everybody was as excited as could be. But I think I saw the robbers."

"You did?"

"I saw two men and a boy running, and each had a satchel."

"That was certainly suspicious," returned Mrs. Nelson. She was in too much pain to say more just then, and set about making use of the things Ralph had brought from the doctor's. Fortunately, these did her much good, and inside of half an hour she was considerably better.

"I thought I heard you coming a quarter of an hour before you did,"

remarked Mrs. Nelson, presently. "I certainly heard somebody walking in the dooryard."

Ralph was interested at once.

"I heard footsteps, too," he said. "Somebody must have been prowling about.

Who could it have been?"

"Perhaps the post office robbers," suggested Mrs. Nelson, somewhat nervously.

"I don't see what they would be doing about here," rejoined Ralph, seriously.

"Did they come in this direction?"

"They came down the main street, yes."

Mrs. Nelson sighed deeply. She did not like the idea of any one prowling about her home after dark.

"I am going to take a look around again," said Ralph, noticing her uneasiness. "Perhaps it was a sneak-thief who has stolen the ax or the saw from the woodshed."

Ralph walked outside. It was now growing lighter in the east, for it was after four o'clock in the morning. He looked about the woodshed and the cottage, but everything appeared to be all right. Certainly nothing had been stolen.

The boy was about to return to the kitchen, when he heard several men coming down the road from the village. He halted in the dooryard to see who they were.

"There is somebody now!" one of the men exclaimed, and Ralph recognized Uriah d.i.c.k's voice.

"It is Ralph Nelson himself," replied Bart Hayc.o.c.k, the blacksmith, who was one of the party.

"Hallo, there, Nelson!" called out the third man. It was Jack Rodman, the district constable.

"Hallo, Rodman!" returned the boy, as he ran down to the gate. "Are you after the post office robbers?"

"I guess we are that," put in Uriah d.i.c.ks. "An' we ain't far from one of 'em!"

"Hush!" put in Jack Rodman, hastily. "Wait till I have a talk with the boy."

"It ain't no use for to talk," insisted Uriah. "There's the evidence plain enough."

"There may be a mistake," suggested Bart Hayc.o.c.k. "I cannot believe Ralph would do anything wrong."

"Why, what--what do you mean?" stammered the boy, hardly catching the drift of their talk.

"Is this your knife, Ralph?" asked the constable, producing a buck-handle pocketknife.