I looked into the satchel he was carrying. There was a few flat stones, a ball of twine, a piece of resin, a hammer, and some big heavy nails. “Well, Link,” I says, “you are going to manage this job; suppose you tell us all what to do.”
Link said, “All right.”
He got Hal Rice, Roy Dobel, Clarence Wilks, Tom Wing-field, and Oscar Koven to go down to the willows and stand by the launch. The rest of us went with Link. Those who had not seen the inside of Stoner’s den were a little afraid to go in, but we all had our flashlights, and we finally got them all to follow. We reached the place where the rocky shelf runs over the ditch, and we all stopped.
“I saw how he got over,” whispers Link to us. “I followed him in here an hour ago; you would be supprised to see how he got acrost this ditch.”
“JUST AT THE EDGE HE JUMPED.”
“Tell us how,” I whispered.
“Watch me,” says Link.
He opened his satchel and took out two flat stones and tied them at each end of a piece of cord. “Now,” he says.
He flung the tied stones up in the dark, acrost the ditch. He looked hard into the dark, as if he could see where the stones went. But there came a look of disappointment on his face. “I missed it,” he whispered.
The next thing we heard was the clattering of the flat stones as they fell down the rocky sides of the ditch.
At the same time we heard a scrambling of feet somewhere up above the other side of the ditch. “Git back,” whispered Link. “He’s got a gun; it’s double barrel.”
We all turned out our flashlights quick and crouched back into the dark against the wall of the cave. All at once we saw daylight come in somewhere near the roof, and outlined against the light was the gray figger of Stoner’s Boy, looking out of a hole in the roof.
“By Jingo,” he hollered, “they got my boat.”
Then he shut the hole, and it was dark once more.
We heard him laugh in the dark and holler to himself, “They think they got me, ha-ha-ha.”
“Stay down,” whispers Link to us. “Don’t make a sound.”
The next minit we saw the shadowy figger in gray, acrost the ditch. He reached up and pulled something down out of the dark, and at once we saw it was a thick rope tied to the roof somewhere. He ran back into the dark with the end of the rope. In a second he come running toward the ditch again. Just at the edge he jumped and swung himself on the rope, acrost the ditch, and landed on our side of the rock. It must have been twenty feet across.
“He ain’t got a gun,” hollered Jerry Moore. “Come on, fellas, after him; don’t let him give us the slip.”
We heard Stoner’s laugh as we flew after him.
But he didn’t go the way we expected. No, he turned and ran through a dark opening and up a winding way, and we followed close at his heels. When we come to the top, we saw we were in a half-lighted cave, but Stoner’s Boy wasn’t there.
Jerry hollered, “Down the well, git him Hawkins.”
Right away I reckanized the place. I run over to the hole that looked like a well and looked down. At the bottom was the big spider web, with the big spider in it, and going down a rope hand over hand as fast as he could was the gray ghost.
“Cut it,” hollered Jerry Moore. “Cut that rope.”
Jerry put his hand in his pocket for his knife, but it took more time than it took Stoner. We heard his mocking laugh come up to us from the bottom of the hole.
“Good lord, right on top of the spider,” says Jerry.
We all poked our heads over the hole and looked. Stoner’s Boy was on top of the big spider; we saw its black and green body begin to move, and the sound of a motor came to our ears. “Goodbye, boobs,” hollered Stoner’s Boy.
“Good Lord,” I says, “it’s an automobile.”
When we looked again, the big spider was gone. We could hear the noise of its motor humming on the outside of the cave. I put my leg over the edge of the well and grabbed the rope.
“Come on, fellas,” I says. Down I went, hand over hand, but at the bottom I lost my hold and blistered my hands as I slid down the rope to the bottom. I stood right in the middle of the spider web, which was painted on the rocky floor. In a few minits the other fellas had slid down the rope. We all stood there, in the opening through which Stoner’s Boy had gone. Away down the path, going like lightning, was the spider automobile, on its way to Watertown.
“Well,” I says, “we might as well go down and tell the fellas they don’t have to watch that launch.”
Which we did.
CHAPTER 17
The Spider Floats
MONDAY.—Us boys had a long meeting today after school and talked over the escape of Stoner’s Boy last Saturday, after we thought we had him bottled up in the cave. Our captain gave instructions to all of us how we must watch for him again this week. “He will come back,” says Dick. “He will visit his hiding place once more; you can be sure of that.”
So we all went out to play ball, or do what we had in mind; some of us fellas don’t care to play ball.
I sat with skinny Link Lambert on his pop’s houseboat porch down on the river and watched Link fishing. Link never talks much when he fishes; he seems to be thinking hard while he watches his cork for a bite.
I says, “What you thinking about, Link?”
He looked up with a funny grin. “Same thing you are,” he answers.
“Ah,” I says, “I thought so. Stoner’s Boy.”
Link nodded his head. “Yeah,” he says, “the way he give us the slip, it ought to make us ashamed of our self.”
“It did,” I says, “but if he didn’t have that spider automobile, we would of caught him.”
Link laughed. “I ain’t so sure,” he says. “We had his launch, didn’t we?”
“Yes,” I says, “we got that.”
“No we ain’t,” says Link. “It’s gone; I been down there. Old foxy Stoner been around here purty early; he got his launch back already.”
I stood up. “Well for Lord’s sake,” I says, “us fellas are a bunch of boobs.”
Link sighed. “Oh not much,” he says, “we can’t watch an old launch all night; we can’t lose sleep on it.”
I says, “I am going up to tell Dick and Jerry about it.”
TUESDAY.—Lew Hunter made us fellas all stay in the houseboat after meeting today to practice our commencement songs. After we finished, it was too late to do anything so we loafed around the houseboat porch and talked for a while; then we went home.
WEDNESDAY.—Dick Ferris says to me this afternoon, “Hawkins, do you want to take another trip up to Stoner’s hiding place?”
I says, “What for, there ain’t nobody there any more.”
“No,” says Dick, “but Lew Hunter and Jerry want to go, to see some more of the inside of that cave.”
“Well,” I says, “I’ll go.”
So Dick called Lew and Jerry, and I took my good rifle that Larry King gave me, and we started out for the cave.
When we got there, a couple of turkey buzzards flew out of a nook in the rocks, and the sound of their wings was very much like the sound of a motor. All us fellas thought for a second the spider automobile was coming. But we laughed when we saw the birds. It kinda took the nerve out of us, though, for we went into the cave much slower than we first started to. We all had our flashlights and made it purty light inside.
It was so still, the stillness made us all keep silent, and when we did talk, we spoke in whispers. It was like a place where spooks live; seemed like you knew they were near you, but you couldn’t see them. We reached the place where the rocky floor breaks, the place where the big ditch is. I says, “I’m going to get a better look at this place fellas.”
I crawled on my stomach till I reached the edge of the big split. I hung my flashlight down into it as far as my arm would reach and turned on the light. I couldn’t see a thing beyond ten feet down; after that it was dark, dark, dark.
Down, way down
deep I could hear the dull murmur of running water. I reached for a piece of stone lying beside me and let it drop into the big ditch. I waited for it to hit the water, but no sound came. I turned my head, and Lew Hunter was on his knees beside me.
“It’s a mile deep,” he says to me in a low voice.
“Yeah,” I answers.
We backed away and joined Jerry and Dick.
“See the rope,” says Dick to Lew. “That’s the rope Stoner’s Boy swung acrost with.”
Dick flashed his light up toward the roof; then he gave a start.
“Look,” he says, “it’s tied back on the other side again.”
We all flashed our lights. Sure enough, the rope was tied to a nail driven into the rock acrost the wide, deep ditch.
Dick looked at me. “Hawkins,” he says, “Stoner’s Boy is here.”
Lew Hunter turned around and ran out toward the opening of the cave. It made us smile. “Let him go,” I says. “We can’t do no good here even if we had all our fellas.”
“Listen,” said Jerry, suddenly.
From acrost the deep hole came a sound of pattering feet. We put out our flashlights and crowded back into the dark against the wall. The next minit we could see a shadowy figure on the other side of the ditch. It reached for the rope and swung acrost, and stopped to fasten the rope to a nail on this side.
“You’ve got your gun, Hawkins,” whispered Dick. “Suppose you try to get him.”
I was excited, and I guess I got up enough nerve that minit to do it, for I jumped out and faced the shadowy figger.
“Stop,” I called, “don’t move your hands or your feet; you are looking into a gun.”
Jerry and Dick jumped up to help me and held their flashlights up to the face of our prisoner. It was the Skinny Guy, Link Lambert.
Link grinned. “I wish you had him,” he says, “but I guess we got to wait. You fellas make up your mind in a minit, and that’s the way you make mistakes; you ought to know I would come back here.”
Lew Hunter came tiptoeing back when he heard Link’s voice.
I says, “Well, Link, why don’t you sing or something to let us know it’s you sneaking around here.”
“Yeah,” says Link, “I should sing and let Stoner know I am breaking into his hiding place, huh?”
“That’s right,” says Jerry. “Link had best keep still when he is in here.”
“So had we all better keep still,” says Lew Hunter. “Come on, I’ve got to go home.”
But I gave Link a good scolding for not telling me what he was up to.
THURSDAY.—Briggen come over today, with Ham Gardner and Dave Burns, while we were holding our meeting in the houseboat. “We seen him,” says Briggen, “him and his crazy automobile what looks like a spider.”
“All right,” says our captain, “what has that got to do with your visit here?”
Briggen laughed. “Well,” he says, “us Pelham fellas could help you catch him, if you will do us a favor for it.”
“What is your favor, Briggen?” I asked.
“Just this,” says Briggen, “us fellas got a notion we would like to own that funny automobile what Stoner rides in. Now if we help you catch him, and capture the automobile, will you give us Pelhams the automobile to keep?”
Jerry Moore got up. “Look here, Briggen,” he says, “in the first place, we wouldn’t give you nothing, no matter what you did, no matter what time you did it; and in the second place, us fellers can fight our own fights without help from Pelham.”
Briggen smiled. “Ain’t that nice,” he says, “but you overlooked a bit, you did, because you fellas took Stoner’s launch, and he ain’t forgotten it, and he is coming back to fetch it before long.”
I got up and stood between Jerry and Briggen.
“Let me see,” I says. “I think I get you, Briggen. You mean you fellas got that launch out of the willows and have it hidden away somewhere?”
Briggen smiled and nodded his head. “We have placed it in storage,” he says, “and are taking care of it till it is returned to its owner.”
“I thought so,” I says. “It’s just like a Pelham fella to do a trick like that; we ought not pay any attention to you at all.”
“Well, suit yourself,” says Briggen, and he turned to go. “But one thing I want to tell you,” he says. “Stoner thinks you fellas got the launch. Now be reasonable.”
The three Pelham leaders walked out of our houseboat and left us to talk over the business. Jerry was mad as a wet hen, but Dick told him to keep still; he never does any good when he is mad, and we can figger out things better without him then.
“This,” says our captain, “is another mess. It’s our fault, too, for not putting that launch where the Pelhams wouldn’t find it.”
Link Lambert got up. “Listen,” he says, “them Pelham fellas never could hide a thing from me; if I don’t find out where they got that launch, my name is mud.”
“All right,” says Dick, “you are appointed spy to find this boat.”
FRIDAY.—Skinny Link was not at the houseboat when we come down to meeting after school. But we ain’t no more than sat down when he rushed in. “Come on,” he says, “it’s down on the river now.”
“What?” I asked.
“The launch,” he says. “Briggen and his bunch have got it out; they are taking a ride in it.”
We all run out as fast as we could. We could hear the motor chugging as we ran down, but when we reached the bank we heard Briggen and Ham Gardner laugh out loud and make faces at us as they shot down the stream, the launch making a long, white ribbon of foam as it went.
“No use,” says Dick, as I pulled my canoe out of the bushes, “you couldn’t catch ’em. They’ve got a machine, while we only get our hands and paddles.”
“You’re right,” I says. “It would be foolish to follow ’em.”
So we went back to our houseboat and practiced our songs again. But all during practice I could see that the fellas had something else on their mind. They were thinking of Stoner’s Boy and what he was going to do to us for keeping his launch.
SATURDAY.—We all came down early, there being no school. Dick gave orders that no one but the Skinny Guy was to go down to the water. We put one of our canoes in the bushes near the upper bend of the river, and another down by the lower bend.
“Now,” says Dick, when we came back to the houseboat, “we will divide into two companies; one is to take the lower bend, and one the upper bend. When we get word that Briggen and his fellas got the launch on the river, we will go to our places and paddle toward each other; that way we will catch the launch coming or going.”
It was about two in the afternoon when Link came. “Now’s our chanst,” he says. “The Pelhams got the launch right up the river near our landing place; let’s go quietly.”
Dick Ferris says, “All right, we will go right away.”
“No you won’t,” said a voice we all knew. Nobody would ever forget that voice. The gray ghost Stoner’s Boy stood in our door. His face was half covered by a gray handkachif, and he held a double-barreled gun in his arms. “You know what I come for,” he says. “Where is my launch?”
WITH A SPLASH THE FUNNY LITTLE MACHINE HIT THE WATER
Dick spoke, but his voice was a bit shaky. “We ain’t got it,” he says. “We were just going down to get it back for you. It’s on the river now; the Pelhams stole it from us.”
The gray ghost waved his hand. “You won’t have to get it,” he says. “All I want to know is where it is. I’m gonna get it myself.”
He backed out of the door and backed away up the path a bit and into the bushes.
“Shall we go after him?” asked Bill Darby.
“Stay where you are,” says Dick. “Wait and see what his game is.”
In a minit we heard the chugging of a motor, and out through the bushes came tearing that little old spider automobile, and down the path it went, toward the river. We all run after it. Down to the riverbank
it flew, and we caught sight of Briggen and his bunch in the launch. They had turned their heads and were supprised to see the spider and Stoner. But Briggen reached down and started the motorboat, and as the launch flew down the river, Briggen stood up and laughed at Stoner’s Boy.
“Come on in, Stoner’s Boy,” hollered Briggen. “The water’s fine.”
Stoner’s spider automobile seemed to jump ahead at a faster pace.
“Watch out,” I hollered. “You’ll run into the river.”
But Stoner’s Boy never heard me. The spider didn’t stop. With a splash the funny little machine hit the river, and us fellas held our breath. We were supprised when we saw the little spider machine float like a boat, and then we noticed that the funny things on the spokes of the wheels were paddles, like the side-wheels of a steamboat, and she took to the water like a fish. Briggen stopped laughing and stood in the launch for a minit staring at the floating spider.
The next minit he stooped down and put on more speed, and away shot the motorboat, and after it the spider. But oh boy, how that spider flew after it, once it got going in the water. It gained on the launch every second, and the Pelhams didn’t wait to be caught; they tumbled overboard, one after another, and struck out for their shore. Briggen was the last to go. He give one last look at the fast-coming spider; then he took a nose dive, and the motorboat, without a guide, turned sideways and ran her nose into the muddy bank. The spider reached it at once. As soon as Briggen reached the shore, he wiped the water out of his eyes and stared at Stoner’s Boy, who was reaching for the towrope of the launch.
Briggen picked up a stone and was about to throw it, but Stoner lifted his double-barrel gun out of the spider, and Briggen turned and flew up the bank into the bushes. Stoner tied the launch to the back of the spider. Us fellas stood on our side just watching, like we were made of wood. Even if we had tried to chase after Stoner, we couldn’t, because we were too supprised to move. We stood silent there on the bank, until the little spider and its launch had turned the bend up the river. The Pelhams came sneaking out of their hiding places to watch the funny auto-boat disappear round the bend.
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