“DeWitt telephoned to tell me the Star lost an important story today.”
“How did that happen, Dad?”
“Well, a correspondent wired in the news, but by accident the message never reached DeWitt’s desk.”
Penny regarded her father shrewdly. “Ben Bowman’s telegram?”
“I’m afraid it was,” Mr. Parker admitted. “The message came to two dollars. I didn’t know DeWitt had hired a correspondent at the town of Altona. Naturally I jumped to conclusions.”
“So you lost a news story because you refused a bona fide telegram,” Penny said, shaking her head. “Ben Bowman scores again.”
“You see what I’m up against,” the editor growled. “I’d give a hundred dollars to be rid of that pest.”
“You really mean it?” Penny demanded with interest.
“My peace of mind would be well worth the price.”
“In that case, I may apply my own brain to the task. I could use a hundred dollars.”
The discussion was interrupted by Mrs. Weems who called that dinner was ready. As Mr. Parker went to his usual place at the dining room table, he saw a yellow envelope lying on his plate.
“What’s this?” he demanded sharply.
“A telegram,” explained Mrs. Weems. “It came only a moment ago. I paid the boy.”
“How much was the message?” the editor asked, his face grim.
“A dollar and a half.” Mrs. Weems regarded her employer anxiously. “Did I do anything I shouldn’t have? I supposed of course you would want me to accept the message.”
“This is just too, too good!” Penny chuckled, thoroughly enjoying the situation. “Everything so perfectly timed, almost as if it were a play!”
“I don’t understand,” Mrs. Weems murmured. “I’ve done something I shouldn’t—”
“It was not your fault,” Mr. Parker assured her. “In the future, however, refuse to accept any collect message.”
As her father did not open the telegram, Penny seized upon it.
“This is from a man who calls himself Isaac Fulterton,” she disclosed, glancing at the bottom of the typed page.
“Merely one of Ben Bowman’s many names,” Mr. Parker sighed.
“Ah, this is a gem!” Penny chuckled, and read aloud:“‘Here is a suggestion for your rotten rag. Why not print it on yellow paper? I know you will not use it because editors think they know everything. I once knew a reader who got a little good out of your paper. He used it to clean the garbage can.’”
“How dreadful!” Mrs. Weems exclaimed, genuinely shocked.
“Penny, if you insist upon reading another line, I shall leave the table,” Mr. Parker snapped. “I’ve had quite enough of Ben Bowman.”
“I’m sorry, Dad,” Penny apologized, slipping the message into her pocket. “I can appreciate that this doesn’t seem very funny to you.”
The telegram was not mentioned again. Nevertheless, Mr. Parker’s good humor had given way to moody silence, contributing no cheer to the evening meal. Mrs. Weems kept glancing uneasily at her employer, wondering if she had offended him. Only Penny, whose appetite never failed, seemed thoroughly at ease.
“Dad,” she said suddenly. “I have an idea how Ben Bowman might be trailed!”
“Never mind telling me,” her father answered. “I prefer not to hear his name mentioned.”
“As you like,” she shrugged. “I’ll shroud myself in mystery and silence as I work. But when the case is ended, I’ll present my bill!”
Actually, Penny held slight hope that ever she would be able to turn the elusive Ben Bowman over to the police. The wily fellow was far too clever ever to file two messages from the same telegraph office, and very seldom from the same city. However, the town of Claymore, from which the last message had been sent, was only fifty-five miles away. It had occurred to her that by going there she might obtain from telegraph officials the original message filed.
“In that way I’d at least have Ben Bowman’s signature,” she reflected. “While it wouldn’t be much, it represents a start.”
Always, Penny’s greatest problem was insufficient time. Greatly as she desired to drive to Claymore, she knew it would be out of the question for several days. Not only must arrangements for the orphans’ melon party be completed, but other interests demanded attention.
Temporarily dismissing Ben Bowman from her mind, Penny devoted herself to plans for the outing. Cars easily were obtained, and the following night, sixty excited orphans were transported to the Davis farm. With shrieks of laughter, the boys and girls took possession of the melon patch.
“Pick all you like from the vines,” Penny called,“but don’t touch any of the crated ones.”
In the yard not far from the storage barn stood a truck loaded with melons which were ready for the market.
“This must represent the cream of Mrs. Preston’s crop,” Jerry remarked, lifting the canvas which covered the load. “Maybe she’ll be luckier than her neighbors, the Doolittles.”
“What happened to them?” Penny asked, surprised by the remark.
“Don’t you ever read the Star?”
“I didn’t today. Too busy. Tell me about the Doolittles, Jerry.”
“Mr. Doolittle was taking a load of melons to market. Another truck brushed him on the River road. The melon truck upset, and the entire shipment was lost.”
“Can’t he get damages?”
“Doolittle didn’t learn who was responsible.”
“Was it an accident or done deliberately?” Penny asked thoughtfully.
“Sheriff Daniels thinks it was an accident. I’m inclined to believe the Black Hoods may have had something to do with it.”
“Why should anyone wish to make trouble for Mr. Doolittle, Jerry? All his life he has stayed on his little truck farm, and strictly attended to his own affairs.”
“There’s only one possible reason so far as I know,” the reporter answered. “Not long ago Doolittle refused to join the Holloway County Cooperative, an organization that markets crops for the truck farmers.”
“And you believe the Hoods may be connected with the Cooperative?”
“I wouldn’t go so far as to say that,” Jerry replied hastily. “Fact is, the Holloway Cooperative always has had a good reputation.”
“There’s no question the Preston barn was destroyed by the Hoods,” Penny said reflectively. “Although the evidence pointed to Clem Davis, I’ve never felt satisfied he was guilty.”
“Same here,” agreed Jerry. “Another thing, I keep mulling over what that melon sorter said yesterday.”
“You mean his hint that something might happen to Mrs. Davis’ crop?”
“Yeah. Maybe he knew more than he let on.”
“The Hoods will have to work fast if they destroy the Davis melons,” Penny rejoined. “Besides, didn’t the sheriff uncover proof that Clem Davis is a member of the organization?”
“That’s what he says. I wonder about that too.”
Not far from the truck was a small pile of discarded melons, culls which were misshapen or over-ripe. Selecting one, Jerry tossed it into the air and caught it.
“Just the right size for a hand grenade,” he remarked. “Watch!”
He threw the melon hard against the barn. It burst against the siding, breaking into a dozen fragments and leaving an unsightly blotch of oozing seeds.
“Jerry, you shouldn’t do that,” Penny chided. “Mrs. Davis won’t like it.”
“Okay, I’ll be good,” the reporter promised. “The temptation was just too strong to resist.”
By this time, the hubbub in the melon patch had slightly subsided as the youngsters gained their fill of cantaloupe. Soon institution officials began to pilot the children to the waiting cars. Several lads protested at the early termination of the party.
“Do let the boys stay awhile longer,” Penny pleaded. “Jerry and I will bring them back in a few minutes.”
“Very well,” the matron consented. �
�But don’t allow them to eat so many melons that they will be sick.”
The responsibility of looking after six orphans weighed heavily upon Penny. After the cars had driven away, she and Jerry patrolled the patch, trying vainly to maintain order. With institution authorities no longer present, the boys proceeded to enjoy themselves. They ran races down the furrows, lassoed one another with vines, and pelted ripe melons against the fence posts.
“Hey, you little hoodlums!” Jerry shouted. “Cut it out or you’ll go back to the Home pronto!”
“Says who?” mocked one saucy little fellow in a piping voice.
“Quiet everyone!” commanded Penny suddenly. “Listen!”
In the silent night could be heard the clatter of horses’hoofs. Jerry whirled around, gazing toward the entrance to the lane. Two horsemen, black hoods covering their faces, rode at a hard gallop toward the storage barn.
CHAPTER 11
PENNY’S CLUE
“The nightshirt riders!” Jerry exclaimed. “Duck down, everyone!”
Penny and the six lads from the Riverview Home crouched low, watching the approach of the two riders.
“One of those men may be Clem Davis, but I doubt it!” muttered Jerry. “They’re here to destroy the crated cantaloupes!”
“Jerry, we can’t let them get away with it!” Penny exclaimed. “Why not pelt them with melons when they get closer?”
“Okay,” he agreed grimly, “we’ll give ’em a spoiled cantaloupe blitz. Gather your ammunition, gang, and get ready!”
Screened from the approaching horsemen by trees and bushes, the young people hastily collected a few over-ripe cantaloupes which were small enough to throw with accuracy.
Unaware of the barrage awaiting them, the two hooded men rode into the yard.
“Now!” Jerry gave the signal. “Let ’em have it!”
Taking careful aim, he hurled his own melon with all his strength. It found its mark, striking one of the men with stunning force, nearly causing him to fall from the saddle.
Penny and the boys from the orphans’ home concentrated their efforts on the other horseman. While many of their shots were wild, a few went true. One struck the horse which reared suddenly on her hind legs, unseating the rider.
“Give it to him!” Jerry shouted, observing that the fallen man was unhurt.
Handicapped by lack of ammunition, there followed a brief lull in the battle, as the young people sought to replenish their stock. Seizing the opportunity, one of the night riders galloped away. The other man, who had lost his horse, scrambled into the cab of the loaded melon truck.
“He’s going to drive off!” Penny cried. “Let’s stop him!”
She and Jerry ran toward the truck, but they were too late. The giant motor started with a roar, and the heavy vehicle rolled out of the yard.
Just then, Mrs. Davis came running from the cabin.
“My melons!” she screamed. “They’ve taken my melons! Oh, I was afraid something like this would happen!”
“Maybe I can overtake that fellow,” Jerry called to her. “Ride herd on these kids until I get back!”
As he ran toward his own car, Penny was close at his heels. She slid into the seat beside him and they raced down the lane.
“Which way did the truck go?” Jerry demanded. “I was so excited I forgot to notice.”
“It turned right. No sign of it now, though.”
“The fellow is running without lights to make it harder for us to follow him.”
Jerry and Penny both were hopeful that they could overtake the truck, which carried a heavy load. However, they had been delayed several minutes in getting started, and as the miles fell behind them, they caught no glimpse of the man they pursued.
“He must have turned off on that little side road we passed a quarter of a mile back,” Penny declared in discouragement. “Switch off the engine a minute.”
Bringing the car to a standstill, Jerry did as instructed. Both listened intently. From far over the hills they thought they could hear the muffled roar of a powerful motor.
“You’re right, Penny! He turned off at that side road!” Jerry exclaimed, backing the coupe around. “We’ll get him yet!”
Retracing their route, they started down the narrow rutty highway. Five minutes later, rounding a sharp bend, they caught their first glimpse of the truck, a dark object silhouetted in the moonlight. Only for a moment did it remain visible, and then, descending a hill, was lost to view.
“We’re gaining fast,” Jerry said in satisfaction. “It won’t be long now.”
The coupe rattled over a bridge. For no reason at all it began to bump, a loud pounding noise coming from the rear of the car.
“Gracious! What now?” Penny exclaimed.
“A flat,” Jerry answered tersely. “Just our luck.”
Pulling up at the side of the road, he jumped out to peer at the tires. As he had feared, the left rear one was down.
“We’ll probably lose that fellow now,” he said irritably.
With Penny holding a flashlight, the reporter worked as fast as he could to change the tire. However, nearly fifteen minutes elapsed before the task had been accomplished.
“We may as well turn back,” he said, tossing tools into the back of the car. “How about it?”
“Oh, let’s keep on a little farther,” Penny pleaded. “If we drive fast we might still overtake him.”
Without much hope, they resumed the pursuit. Tires whined a protest as they swung around sharp corners, and the motor began to heat.
“This old bus can’t take it any more,” Jerry declared, slackening speed again. “No sense in ruining the car.”
Penny had been watching the road carefully. They had passed no bisecting highways, so she felt certain that the truck could not have turned off. On either side of the unpaved thoroughfare were lonely stretches of swamp and woods.
“Let’s not turn back yet,” she pleaded. “We still have a chance.”
“Okay,” Jerry consented, “but don’t forget we have six orphans waiting for us at the Davis place.”
The car went on for another eight miles. Then came a welcome stretch of pavement.
“We must be getting near the state line,” Jerry remarked. “Yeah, there it is.”
Directly ahead was a tiny brick building with an official waiting to inspect cars which passed beyond that point. A series of markers warned the motorist to halt at the designated place.
As Jerry drew up, a man came from the little building.
“Carrying any shrubs, plants or fruit?” he began but the reporter cut him short.
“We’re following a stolen truck!” he exclaimed. “Has a red truck loaded with cantaloupes gone through here tonight?”
“I checked one about fifteen minutes ago.”
“Fifteen minutes!” Jerry groaned. “That finishes us.”
“The trucker could have reached Claymore by this time,” the inspector responded. “Once in the city you wouldn’t have much chance to pick him up. I have the truck license number though. If you’ll give me all the facts, I’ll make a report to Claymore police.”
There was no point in pursuing the thief farther. Accordingly, Penny and Jerry provided the requested information, and then drove to the Davis farm. Regretfully, they told Mrs. Davis of their failure to trace the melon thief.
“I’ve lost my crop, the truck—everything,” she said in a crushed voice. “What’s the use trying anyhow? A body would be smarter to go along with ’em than to try to fight.”
“I take it you have a pretty fair idea who it was that came here tonight?” Jerry said shrewdly. “Who are these Hoods?”
“I don’t dare tell you,” the woman answered fearfully. “You saw what they did tonight. They threw the blame of the Preston fire on Clem. They’ll do worse things if I don’t keep mum.”
“You want to help your husband, don’t you?”Penny inquired.
“Of course I do! But I know better than to talk.”
“You’ve been warned?” Jerry pursued the subject.
“Yes, I have. Now don’t ask me any more questions. I’ve told you too much already.”
“I just want to know one thing,” Jerry said relentlessly. “Did your trouble start because you and your husband refused to join the Holloway Cooperative?”
“Maybe it did,” the woman answered, her voice barely above a whisper. “I ain’t saying.”
It was apparent to Jerry and Penny that they could expect no assistance from Mrs. Davis. Although the events of the night had convinced them that Clem Davis was innocent, others would not share their opinion. They felt that by shielding the guilty parties, Mrs. Davis was adopting a very stupid attitude.
“Come along, Penny,” Jerry said with a shrug. “Let’s be moving.”
Six reluctant orphans were rounded up from the hay loft where a boisterous game of hide and seek was in progress.
“I can jam four into my coupe if you can handle the other two in your car,” Jerry remarked to Penny. “If they make you any trouble, just toot the horn twice, and I’ll come back and settle with ’em!”
“Oh, we’ll get along fine,” she smiled. “Come along, boys.”
“Here’s a souvenir to remember the night by,” Jerry said. From the ground he picked up two melons which he handed to the orphans. “Just don’t sock the matron with them when you get back to the Home!”
“Jerry, let me see one of those melons!” Penny exclaimed suddenly. “They fell from the truck, didn’t they?”
“I guess so,” Jerry responded, surprised by her display of interest. “What about ’em?”
“I’ll show you.”
Turning on the dash light of the car, Penny held the melon in its warm glow. Slowly, she turned it in her hands.
“There!” she said, pointing to a tiny triangle shaped marking on the cantaloupe. “This may prove a clue which will lead to the capture of the thief!”
“I don’t get it,” answered Jerry. “What clue?”
“Why, this stamping on the melon!” she replied excitedly. “The Hoods must intend to sell that load of cantaloupes. If they do, we may be able to trace the shipment.”
CHAPTER 12
ADELLE’S DISAPPEARANCE
The Penny Parker Megapack: 15 Complete Novels Page 60
