by Roy Rockwood
CHAPTER XVIII
AN ALL-NIGHT CAPTIVITY
Dave sank down in his soft bed of bags and straw, unable to move hand orfoot.
The men who had made him a helpless prisoner had done their work well.Dave could not use a muscle. As to dislodging the gag or shouting, thatseemed entirely out of the question.
The youth had lots of time to think. He blinked up at the stars, kepthis ears on the alert, and waited for further developments.
“There’s something to Hiram’s warning, sure enough,” he reflected. “Ifthis is the work of Jerry Dawson, he must be a pretty desperate fellow.”
Then Dave began to worry. The last overheard words of his captors wereenlightening. They had spoken as if it was fully intended to get himaway from his present pleasant employment and keep him away from it.What affected Dave most seriously, however, was the hint of the two menthat they had some evil designs against the _Aegis_.
“I think I guess it out,” mused Dave, very much wrought up mentally.“Jerry Dawson and his father are bent on getting me out of the way, andat the same time getting even with Mr. King, as they call it. I don’tsee what they hope to gain. Mr. King wouldn’t take Jerry back in hisemploy in a thousand years, and they wouldn’t dare to do me any realharm. It would cost them money to have me shut up anywhere for anylength of time, and the Dawsons haven’t got any too much of that.Besides, they won’t hold me long,” declared Dave doughtily, “if I get achance to slip them.”
Dave counted the minutes, quite curious as well as anxious to find outwhat the next step in the programme would be. Then he heard voicesapproaching.
“They’re coming back,” decided Dave, “no,” he corrected himself, “thoseare not their voices.”
“Unhitch him, Jared,” spoke unfamiliar tones.
“All right,” responded a boyish voice. “Straight for home, father?”
“Yes, we’ll be late as it is, and mother will be uneasy. Give me thelines. I’ll drive.”
Two persons, apparently father and son, lifted themselves up into thefront seat of the wagon, and the horse started up.
“That’s queer,” ruminated Dave, “mighty queer. Why, they don’t act as ifthey cared if I was smothering or already smothered. Why don’t they waitfor the two men who put me in this awful fix?”
The wagon crossed a patch of open ground. Then a smooth country road wasreached and the horse jogged along his way.
“Pretty good price for the stuff you got, wasn’t it, father?” asked theboy.
“Yes, these shows pay us well,” was the response.
“Oh, I’m nobody and nothing, it seems,” thought Dave. “Wish I had theuse of my tongue for about two minutes. I’d ask these people what theyintend to do with me. They don’t appear like very bloodthirsty fellows.Maybe, though, they’re hired to dump me into the first river they cometo, and don’t mind it so long as they get the money.”
Not a word was spoken by either father or son that showed the leastinterest on their part in their helpless passenger. Finally the boysaid:
“It’s going to rain, father. I felt a sprinkle just then.”
“Well, we’ll be home in ten minutes.”
Dave had noticed that the sky had clouded up. A few drops of rainspattered his face. Then the horse took a turn, entered a farm yard, andwas halted.
“You go into the house, father,” said the boy. “I’ll put up the horse.”
“All right, give him his feed, and say, Jared, you needn’t botherpulling the wagon in.”
“Just as you say, father.”
“Throw a hay tarpaulin over the box, so the bags won’t get soaked,that’s all.”
“The mischief!” reflected Dave. “Are they thinking of leaving me out ina rainstorm all night?”
Apparently this was just what the farmer boy was going to do. Heunhitched the horse and led him into the stable. Then he came outcarrying a great cover, whistling carelessly. He gave the tarpaulin awhirl, and it flopped over the box of the wagon, shutting Dave insnugly. Then, as there came a dash of rain, the boy ran for the house,and Dave could hear him run up a pair of steps and slam a door afterhim.
“Well!”
Dave nearly exploded with wonder, dismay and disgust. He wrenched at hisbonds, and gave it up. He tried to bite the gag in his mouth free, andabandoned that futile attempt also.
“I’m certainly booked for a spell right where I am,” decided Dave.“Maybe those two fellows who captured me are to come here to get me orperhaps when the farmer and his son get their supper they’ll come outand move me somewhere else.”
Nothing of the kind, however, happened. All Dave could do was to restsnugly in one position and listen to the rain patter down on theprotecting tarpaulin. An hour went by very slowly. Once in a while Davecould catch the echo of a voice singing inside the farm house. Finallyhe heard some windows shut down. Then everything became still. He knewnow that the people in the house had gone to bed.
Dave got tired of listening to the ceaseless piping of the crickets inthe grass and the croaking of the frogs in a pond near by.
“I might just as well try to go to sleep myself, too,” he told himself.“If I don’t, I’ll be in no shape for the big day to-morrow.”
There Dave faltered, with a pang that sent his heart way down into hisshoes. To-morrow! It would an anxious day for him, if he was kept incaptivity. And Mr. King! Dave writhed as he feared the worst.
He quieted himself finally by thinking out a new theory, and this madehim feel somewhat hopeful as to himself.
“There’s been a miss in the plans of those scoundrels,” flashed into hismind. “It’s probable, it’s possible, yes, that’s it, I’ll bet!” decidedDave.
He felt more patient and satisfied now. The boy concluded that the twomen who had captured him had picked out the wrong white horse. There hadbeen more of that color among those hitched near the freight gate at theaviation grounds.
“They put me in the wrong wagon,” thought Dave, “and here I am. Whatwill they do when they learn of their terrific blunder?”
Dave chuckled over this. If it had not been for his active fears as tosome designs against Mr. King and the _Aegis_, Dave would have feltquite jubilant.
“It will be all right in the morning,” he tried to believe, and finallywent to sleep.
The loud barking of a dog aroused our hero. The tarpaulin was shaking,and as its edges flapped about Dave could tell that it was broaddaylight.
“Here, Tige, what are you up to?” shouted a familiar voice.
It was that of the farmer boy who had covered Dave up in the wagon boxthe evening previous.
Dave could trace the movements of the dog, probably just released fromhis kennel by his early rising young master doing his chores about thebarn yard. The animal barked unceasingly, circled the wagon and tore atthe dangling ends of the tarpaulin. Dave could hear the paws of the dogas in his excitement he tried to clamber up into the vehicle.
“What is it, Tige—a cat under there?” spoke the farm boy, his voiceapparently nearer.
Just then, under the dog’s pulling, the tarpaulin slid clear off to theground. Dave was dazzled by a blinding glare of sunlight.
The farmer boy sprang upon a wheel hub and looked down into the wagonbox, the dog clawing and panting at his heels. The eyes of the amazedlad fell upon Dave.
“For goodness sake!” shouted the farmer boy. “Where did you come from?”
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