CHAPTER XXI.
WORDS AND BLOWS
The very first words spoken by Si Peters confirmed the young oarsman’s suspicious.
“What did you do with the valise, Wash?” he asked.
“Left it on the yacht at the cove,” replied Wash Crosby.
“That’s where you made a big mistake.”
“How so?” growled the toady.
“They might take it into their heads to search the yacht.”
“Oh, I guess not.”
“We don’t want to run any chances of being found out.”
“We’re all right; don’t worry.”
“Perhaps we are and perhaps we are not.”
“Oh, keep still, and let us enjoy the music,” growled Crosby, for an orchestra was now playing.
A waiter came up and Si Peters gave an order. Jerry was quite sure he had ordered something stronger than what he was in the habit of drinking at home. It was evident that the bully of Rockpoint had turned out even worse than before.
“What shall we do?” whispered Harry.
“We ought to inform the police.”
“Just my idea of it.”
“I don’t know if there are any officers around here.”
“Oh, there must be.”
They looked around, but in the darkness no policeman could be seen.
“You stay here and I’ll go hunt up somebody,” said Jerry.
Scarcely had he spoken, however, when their attention was attracted to a row that was taking place in the concert hall. Two men were fighting, and presently a chair flew through the air.
At once those sitting around tried to retire.
Peters and Crosby rushed out in the crowd, and not to lose sight of the pair Jerry and Harry went after them.
Fifty feet from the concert hall the four came face to face. Si Peters started back, and Wash Crosby wanted to run for it.
“Who – what?” stammered Peters.
“We have caught you,” said Jerry, boldly. “You may as well give in.”
“What do you mean?”
“We know that that you robbed the Rockpoint Hotel,” said Harry.
“It’s not so,” cried Crosby.
“Shut up!” hissed Si Peters.
Without warning he hit Jerry a sharp blow in the face. Then he rushed at Harry and tripped him up.
“Come on!” he yelled to Crosby “We must get away!”
Like a deer he ran off, behind a large roller coaster where all was dark.
Jerry stopped Peters, but only for a moment. Heavy blows were exchanged and then Peters followed his chum.
“They are gone, sure enough!” cried Harry, in dismay.
And gone they were, swallowed up in the crowd which surged on all sides of them.
Jerry and Harry searched in vain for the two evil-doers and then hunted up the police and told their story.
A watch was set, but Si Peters and Wash Crosby managed to escape from the beach resort without being detected.
Jerry and Harry returned to Lakeview with the Whistler, and the report spread that Si Peters and Wash Crosby had robbed the hotel.
At first Mr. Peters refused to believe it. He came over to Jerry’s home, and threatened Mr. Upton with a lawsuit.
But the farmer quickly silenced him.
“Don’t say a word to me, Mr. Peters,” he said. “A boy that will try to tar and feather another boy, and then set fire to a barn and burn up cattle, isn’t none too good to rob a hotel.”
“My son is as good as yours!” growled Mr. Peters, and went off in a perfect rage. But he bothered the Uptons no more, nor did he go near the Parkers.
The lake was searched, and the yacht found up at the cove Si Peters had mentioned. On board was found the valise taken from the hotel.
After this detectives were sent out to find the two young rascals. But Si Peters and Wash Crosby kept out of sight.
Yet the day of reckoning was not far off, as we shall soon see.
About a week after this Harry invited Jerry to a drive along the west shore of Lake Otasco.
As they bowled along they talked over all sorts of matters, and presently Harry mentioned Si Peters and Wash Crosby.
“I wonder if they are still hanging around Harmony Beach?” he said.
“Oh, I don’t think they would dare,” replied Jerry. “They must know by the newspapers that the detectives are on their track.”
“I wish we could bring them to justice. It would be a feather in our cap.”
“So it would, Harry. But I would rather have the law do the work. I never want to have anymore to do with either of them.”
It did not take the two boys long to drive to the lower end of the lake. Here the team was put up at a livery stable, and the chums hired bathing suits and houses, and spread themselves for a fine dip in the lake.
The water was just right, and they enjoyed every second of the half hour they allowed themselves.
It was eight o’clock in the evening before they went to get their team again.
The moon was just coming up over the rim of the lake and this promised them a splendid drive back to Lakeview.
As Harry and our hero entered the turnout two figures stole up from the back of the barn.
The pair were Si Peters and Wash Crosby.
They ran on ahead, and as the boys waited to settle with the livery stable keeper they soon disappeared.
Harry drove, and the young oarsman leaned back and took it easy.
A mile was covered, and they were just passing a clump of bushes when whizz! a stone came flying into the carriage. It struck Jerry on the arm, causing him to cry with pain.
“Who threw that?” he exclaimed.
Whizz! came another stone. It struck Harry in the cheek, drawing blood.
“Whoa!” yelled Jerry, and while the horses were still in motion, he leaped to the road.
He had noted the direction from which the missiles came, and bound off, but behind the bushes all was dark.
“Look out for yourself!” cried Harry.
He was busy with the horses, who were shying first to one side and then to the other.
At first Jerry could see nothing, but soon he discovered two forms in the semi-darkness.
He rushed over and found himself face to face with Si Peters and Wash Crosby.
“Peters!” he ejaculated.
Scarcely had he spoken when a club was raised. Jerry tried to avoid the descending blow, but was only partly successful.
The club landed over his shoulder and neck and he was more than half stunned.
“Come!” he heard Peters whisper to Crosby, and then all became a confused whirl and he pitched forward in the grass.
The two rascals ran out into the road.
“That for you, Harry Parker!” yelled Si Peters, and struck Harry in the knee with the club.
In the meantime Wash Crosby sprang half into the carriage.
He made a grab at Harry’s gold watch chain.
The chain broke from the buttonhole and along with it came Harry’s beautiful timepiece.
“I’ll keep this to remember you by!” cried Wash Crosby in derision, and away he sped across the highway and down a side road, with Si Peters at his heels.
CHAPTER XXII.
ANOTHER BOAT RACE
The horses now demanded all of Harry’s attention. One of them was bound to run away, and the youth had all he could do to hold the animal in check. But the lad knew what he was doing and presently held them under complete control.
Then our hero staggered out of the bushes with his hand on his neck, where a big lump was rising.
“Where are they?”
“Gone! Did they rob you, Jerry?”
“No.”
“Then you are in luck.”
“What do you mean, Harry?”
“Crosby took my gold watch and chain.”
“Never!”
“He did. Jerry, those two chaps have turned nothing but common thieves,” went on Harry, bitterly.
“It certainly looks so, Harry. What shall we do now?”
“Jump in and we’ll go after them.”
Jerry was soon beside Harry, and they turned up the side road taken by the fugitives. The moon was out full, making the way as light as day, yet nothing was to be seen of the rascally pair.
This was not to be wondered at, for after running along the road but a few hundred feet, Si Peters and Wash Crosby had taken to an open field. Crossing this, they came out upon a railroad track. A freight train was coming along slowly, around the bend of the lake, and they had had small trouble in boarding this. Inside of an hour they were many miles away from the vicinity.
Jerry and Harry searched for the pair until midnight, and then gave up the hunt and returned to Lakeview. Once again the authorities were notified, and the detectives started on a fresh hunt for the evil-doers. Yet it was destined to be a long time before Si Peters and Wash Crosby were heard of again.
About this time the Lakeview boat club was organizing another series of rowing races, and both Harry and Jerry were easily persuaded to enter a contest, which was to take place between a number of local oarsmen.
A prize of a fine bicycle had been put up, also several other articles of more or less value, and Jerry and Harry immediately went into training, with a firm determination to win.
There were seven entries, all by young fellows of Jerry’s age, and as the youth looked at his opponents he felt that the race would be no easy one.
Saturday afternoon, the time appointed for the contest, came, bright and clear, and it found the lake front crowded to its utmost capacity. Many came over from Rockpoint, but it was noticed that those who had belonged to Si Peters’ crowd were absent.
The race was to be two miles long, up the lake and back again. The boats were all drawn up in a line, and everything was made ready for a start. Jerry was at one end of the line, with Harry at the other, and the remaining five contestants between them.
Bang! went the gun on the judges’ boat, and away shot the seven rowers like one man; and the race was begun.
For over half a mile the seven contestants kept almost side by side. Then three of them were seen to drop behind.
“Gravling is ahead!”
“Harry Parker is second.”
“Phil Raymond is a close third!”
“Jerry Upton is crawling up!”
So the shouting went on, as the four leaders swept past. When the turning point was reached, Harry led, Raymond came second, Gravling third, and Jerry fourth. The remaining three felt they were out of the race, and rowed back to the boathouse.
“Good for you, Harry!”
“What’s the matter, Jerry? You’re not doing as good as the day you beat Si Peters!”
“Hurry up, Gravling!”
“Pull for all you know how, Raymond!”
On and on came the four, their long blades flashing brightly in the sunshine. They were making fast time, and, no matter who won, the lake record was likely to be broken.
Half way down the homestretch, Harry still led, with Gravling but half a length behind him. A length further back came Raymond and Jerry, side by side.
But the terrific speed was now beginning to tell upon Raymond, and slowly but surely he fell behind, despite the urgings of his friends. Then Jerry set to work to overtake Gravling.
“See Jerry Upton crawling up!”
“Oh, but isn’t that a beautiful stroke!”
“Gravling can’t shake him off!”
“They are a tie!”
The last cry was true. When still a dozen lengths from the finish Jerry had overtaken Gravling. But they did not remain tie long. Half a dozen strokes and Jerry shot ahead and the bow of his craft overlapped Harry’s stern. “Jerry Upton is second!”
“He’s going to shake up Harry Parker for first place!”
On came the two friends, but now it was noticed that Jerry, although he still rowed his best, seemed to be losing his interest in the race.
“It will be no fun to beat Harry,” was the thought which ran through his head; and then, with a yell from three thousand throats, Harry crossed the line a winner, with our hero not quite half a boat length behind.
“Hurrah for Harry Parker!”
“Hurrah for Jerry Upton!”
Cheer after cheer rent the air, and both lads were immediately surrounded by their friends. Jerry was one of the first to shake his chum’s hand.
“You won it fairly, Harry,” he said. “What kind of time did we make?”
He was greatly pleased to learn that the lake record for two miles had been lowered by forty-three seconds, and that he had helped lower it by forty-two seconds.
That evening the club held a meeting, and Harry was presented with the bicycle, something he had been wishing for for some time. Jerry’s prize was a silver watch and chain.
“This just suits me,” he said. “Now, when I’m away from home, I’ll be able to tell what time it is.”
The celebration was at its height, when a message came for Jerry from his home, stating that his father had been kicked by one of the horses and was badly injured.
This news shocked the youth a good deal, and bidding his friends a hasty good-night, the young oarsman set off for the farm on a run.
He found his father lying on a couch in the dining-room. A doctor had just arrived, and he was doing all that he could for the sufferer.
“Where did the horse kick him, mother?” he questioned, hurriedly.
“In the side, right under the heart,” replied Mrs. Upton. “Oh, I do trust it is not serious!”
“So do I. What can I do?”
“I don’t know. We must see what the doctor says.”
The medical man, after a long examination, declared that several ribs had been fractured, and that Mr. Upton was suffering from shock. Some medicine was administered, and the patient was carefully carried upstairs and placed upon a bed.
No one in the farmhouse slept that night. Mrs. Upton sat by her husband’s side, and Jerry came and went, ready to do anything that might be asked of him.
Two days later the doctor pronounced the wounded man out of danger. But his injuries were severe, and it would be a long while before Mr. Upton would be able to go around as before.
His enforced idleness made the farmer fret a good deal. It was true that the harvest work on the farm was over, but he had wished to do much more.
“And I reckon that trip to New York is now out of the question,” Jerry heard him say to Mrs. Upton.
“Why, father, were you going to New York?” asked the boy, in much curiosity.
“I had an idea that way, son,” returned Mr. Upton, slowly. “I was going on business,” he added, after a pause.
At this Jerry was more curious than ever. New York was over two hundred miles from Lakeview, and he had never heard of his parent having business in the metropolis.
“You see it’s this way, Jerry,” said Mr. Upton, noticing his look. “When your uncle Charley died he left all his property to me. Some time ago I was cleaning out one of his old trunks and I ran across some deeds to property in California. From what I can make out the land must be nigh to the city of Sacramento.”
“And the property belongs to you?” cried Jerry.
“No, I can’t say that exactly. As near as I can figure it, your uncle Charley owned an interest in it. The property was in the hands of a land boomer named Alexander Slocum, and there was a letter in the trunk from this Alexander Slocum which was dated from New York. I think this boomer holds other papers relating to the land, and I was thinking of making a trip to New York and hunting him up, if he is still there.”
“Why not let me go to New York in your place,” suggested Jerry, quickly. It had always been the ambition of his life to pay a visit to the great metropolis.
“Well, I was kind of thinking of that, son,” returned the sick man, slowly. “I’ll see about it in a day or two.”
CHAPTER XXIII.
JERRY STARTS ON A JOURNEY
Now that the matter had once been talked over, the young oarsman was very anxious to know all about the property in California, and his mother brought forth the deeds and other papers found in the old trunk.
The boy studied the documents with care. He knew but little of the law, yet he felt that if the land mentioned in the papers was valuable his father’s share, as heir to his uncle, must be considerable.
“I would like to ask Mr. Parker about this,” he said to his folks, but Mr. Upton shook his head. He was a very retired man and never brought his affairs to the ears of any outsider.
“The whole thing might prove worthless,” he said, “and then we would be laughed at by our neighbors.”
“I’d risk it,” said Jerry, but his father only shook his head again.
Nevertheless Mr. Upton appeared to be favorably impressed with the idea of Jerry’s going to New York to hunt up Alexander Slocum.
“It won’t do any harm,” he said to his wife. “I have money for the fare in the house, and it will give Jerry a chance to see a bit of the world.”
Mrs. Upton was doubtful, but when Jerry begged to go she finally consented. Long talks about the western land and Alexander Slocum followed, and the youth prevailed upon his folks to let him take the deeds and papers with him, promising that he would take the best of care of them.
“And while I’m in New York I’m going to look around for a situation, and earn a little money,” said Jerry. “Who knows but what I may strike even a better opening than that Mr. Parker has promised me at his shoe factory.”
“It’s not likely a lad off the farm can strike much,” smiled his mother, yet she was pleased at Jerry’s earnestness.
Three days later Jerry was off, valise in hand. He had bid good-bye to Harry and Blumpo, telling them he was going to New York on some private business for his father. His mother saw him to the train and kissed him affectionately.
“Take good care of yourself, Jerry,” she said. “And remember, New York is an entirely different place from Lakeview or Rockpoint, and you must have your eyes and ears open to avoid trouble.”
“I’ll take care of myself, don’t worry mother,” and two minutes later the train came along and he was off.
Yet it must be confessed that our hero felt just a bit strange as he settled back in the cushioned seat, with his valise beside him. He was going over two hundred miles from home and among total strangers.
“I suppose it will be different from knocking around Lakeview, Rockpoint or even Long Lake,” he mused. “I’ll have to brace up and watch myself, or they’ll take me for a regular greeny.”
As the train moved on, Jerry revolved the situation in his mind. He knew he would arrive in the metropolis late in the afternoon, and determined to seek a boarding-house first of all, knowing it would be useless to hunt for any trace of Alexander Slocum after office hours.
At last the run through green fields and small towns and cities came to an end, and the train ran into the Grand Central Depot at Forty-second Street, and Jerry alighted in a crowd and made his way to the street.
“Cab! coupe! This way for the Central Hotel! Evening paper! Sun or World!”
A hundred cries seemed to start up all in an instant, making Jerry’s ears ring. The rattle of the carts and trucks on the pavement was also new, and for the moment, the Lakeview boy did not know which way to turn.
“Carry yer baggage?” queried a bare-foot boy, and almost caught his valise from his hand. But the young oarsman pulled it back and shook his head, and got out of the crowd as quickly as he could, starting eastward for he had heard that the cheaper boarding houses lay in that direction.
It was not long before the boy came to several places which displayed the sign, Boarding. But the first two were too elegant, and Jerry passed them without stopping. Then came a third, and ascending the steps Jerry rang the bell.
An elderly lady answered the summons, a sharp-faced woman with powdered hair.
“You take boarders here?” queried Jerry.
“We do, young man,” she answered, in a voice that made our hero far from comfortable.
“I expect to stay in New York a week or two, and I – ”
“We don’t take transients,” she snapped. “Only regular boarders with first-class references,” and she shut the door in Jerry’s face.
He was glad enough to escape to the pavement, feeling satisfied that he would not have cared to have boarded there, even had she been willing to take him in.
A block further on was another place, a modest brick residence, set back behind a small plot of green. Thinking this looked inviting, and not reasoning that the spot of green was as valuable as a brown-stone building would have been, Jerry entered the garden and made known his wants to the servant who was dusting the piazza chairs.
She called the lady of the house, who on hearing what Jerry had to say, smiled in a motherly way.
“I hardly think I can take you in, my boy,” she said. “Do you know how much I charge a week?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Twelve to fifteen dollars for a single room and not less than ten otherwise.”
Jerry almost gasped for breath.
“That is twice what I can afford to pay,” he returned. “Gracious! I had no idea rates were so high.”
“That is not high, here in New York. But perhaps I can direct you to a place that will suit. I have a friend three blocks over. Here is her card,” and she handed it over.
Thanking her, the young oarsman got out without delay. He was glad she had directed him, for now he was certain he would at least strike a place that would fit his pocket-book.
Jerry went on until he came to an avenue down which the elevated cars were running. They were a great novelty and he paused on the corner to watch several of the trains rattle along overhead.
As Jerry was about to move on, he heard a wild cry of alarm from the second story window of a house opposite. Looking in the direction, he saw a girl pointing up the street to where a baby-carriage had rolled from the pavement to the gutter, overturning itself and spilling a little child into the street.
The youth ran in the direction with the idea of picking the child up. As he did this an ice-wagon came along at a furious speed, the driver on the seat trying in vain to stop his horse.
The ice-wagon was heading directly for the child and unless something was done the little one would be run over and most likely killed. With his heart in his throat our hero threw down his valise and leaped to the rescue. In another instant the runaway horse was fairly on top of the lad.