Cherry Ames Boxed Set 9-12

by Helen Wells

  “I can’t very well get up,” he said. “I’ve hurt my foot. Where—I can’t see you. You’re camp people, aren’t you? Lucky for me you came out here. Were you looking for me?”

  “No, just picnicking,” Cherry said untruthfully, since she did not want to arouse his suspicions.

  Reed moved forward, picked up the flashlight, and ran its beam over the length of Purdy’s body. Purdy’s face was smudged and scared. Sure enough, his foot was badly burned. Fire or sparks had eaten away part of his sock and canvas rope-soled shoe. The foot beneath looked very sore, far worse than Vernie’s scald.

  “Better take a look at it, Cherry,” said Reed. He held the flashlight for her. “You’re lucky we have a nurse here, Purdy.”

  Cherry distastefully moved face to face with Pep Purdy. She examined the foot, being careful not to touch it. It looked like a third-degree burn. What struck Cherry was that the burn was fresh—it must have happened within the last few hours. Certainly she could not believe that Purdy with an injured foot had lugged the box, whose imprint she had found near his place, then rowed all the way to this island. No, Purdy must have had an accident to his foot right here.

  “How did this happen, Mr. Purdy?” Cherry asked.

  “I did it while I was building a fire. I am not a great outdoors man.”

  “I can’t really believe that burn was caused by a little bonfire!” Cherry said to herself.

  The photographer added shrewdly, “Since I was having trouble with the fire, I doused it, you see.”

  “We saw sparks,” Reed said. ‘That’s how you burned yourself, isn’t it? What were you doing—using?”

  “My dear boy, what nonsense!”

  “I wish you’d tell us, so we’d know how to treat this burn,” Cherry said.

  But Purdy insisted he had brought no camping equipment except matches, a blanket, and sandwiches. He said that his boat was moored out of sight just above the U-shaped inlet where they had landed.

  “Why didn’t you call for help?” Reed demanded. “You surely heard us moving around.”

  Cherry nudged Reed to keep still. Nothing would be gained by antagonizing Purdy. She stood up, leaned over Purdy, and offered him her hand.

  “We’ll help you up. Dr. Lowell is here on the picnic, too, luckily for you.”

  “Oh, I am very, very lucky,” said Purdy.

  He made a pretext of leaning on Cherry but she noticed that he could stand fairly well. Couldn’t get up, indeed! He’d hoped that by crouching, they would not find him.

  It was difficult for Purdy to walk, though. Reed and Cherry led him slowly in the direction of the picnickers. Cherry was reasonably sure he had brought a box of some sort to the island, yet he limped away with them, without so much as a glance around.

  “If he’s not worried about his box,” Cherry figured, “that means he’s probably got it in a safe place. Maybe hidden or buried right here where we surprised him—though would he have had time to bury it?”

  The Lowells and the other counselors were surprised to see three persons reappear when they had expected only two—especially surprised to see their neighbor, the photographer. Cherry and Reed gave no sign that anything extraordinary or suspicious was happening. For that matter, they had found no clear-cut evidence that Purdy was not simply on a camping trip.

  Dr. Lowell looked at the photographer’s foot and pronounced it a third-degree burn. “We’ll have to take you back to the infirmary as quickly as possible. Sorry I haven’t any medical supplies with me. How did you burn yourself so badly, Mr. Purdy?”

  Purdy ventured a laugh. “This is what I get for trying to become a camper like my Blue Water friends. Perhaps this is what a short man gets for visiting Tall Man’s Island.”

  As urbane, as neighborly as ever! If Cherry had not heard Mac Cook’s story, and observed what she had about Purdy and his barn, well, she would still have trusted Purdy as unquestioningly as the others did.

  Reed found Purdy’s rowboat where he had described its mooring—only the boat was not Purdy’s. It was the one which had been missing that afternoon. Ruth J. exclaimed when she saw it, by the light of their campfire and several flashlights. Purdy apologized. By now he was beginning to show exhaustion as a result of the burn, so Ruth J. forbore to scold him about the “borrowed” rowboat. Cherry and Reed managed to keep their faces expressionless during this byplay.

  “Try to rest on the row home,” Dr. Lowell told Purdy as they helped him into the borrowed boat. Reed would row Purdy; the doctor and Cherry would accompany them in a canoe. The others decided to stay and enjoy their picnic.

  It was a long, silent trip home in the moonlight. The two craft rode nearly side by side. Cherry could hear no talk from Purdy, only curt answers when Reed occasionally spoke to him.

  When they reached camp, the photographer, assisted by the doctor and Reed, hobbled the short distance to the infirmary. There Reed left them, taking the Thunder Cliff nurse back with him. Purdy was still closemouthed. Dr. Lowell, of course, suspected nothing. He did not urge his patient to talk. Assisted by Cherry, he cleansed and treated the burned foot, then gave the photographer a mild sedative.

  Purdy revived with surprising speed. Cherry noted this a bit uneasily. Not that she wished Purdy any harm, but Reed had whispered something to her about “Keep him under surveillance tonight at his house”—then Reed had gone off in a hurry. Apparently he had some plan.

  “I’ll hear about it later,” Cherry thought. “I’m glad Reed is on hand to help.”

  Dr. Lowell asked Cherry to drive Purdy back to his house. She did not enjoy being sent out on the roads alone with Purdy, but Dr. Lowell had no reason to know this, and Cherry could not tell him.

  The doctor saw them settled in the jeep, and Cherry started off, going slowly. Purdy, beside her, sat stiff and hostile. She was glad the entrance to Camp Blue Water was well lighted, illuminating this stretch of road as well. The jeep had powerful headlights. Light was always a protection.

  Suddenly Purdy came to life, tensed up. He was staring straight ahead. “Who’s that?”

  Down the road came a young man. The jeep’s headlights picked up his odd brown-and-yellow hair. Squinting in the headlights’ glare, he waved at Cherry—evidently not seeing who rode with her.

  “Who’s that?” Purdy asked under his breath. “I haven’t seen that fellow around here before.”

  “I don’t know him,” Cherry drove past Mac, not even looking in his direction.

  “He waved to you, didn’t he?” Purdy asked.

  “I don’t know every farm hand around here,” Cherry replied curtly.

  She felt very nervous. Purdy had turned around and must be able to see Mac Cook’s figure outlined by the lights at the camp’s entrance. Why, oh why, hadn’t Mac remained out of sight at the Eplers’ house?

  Cherry glanced at Purdy. Had he recognized Mac Cook? It was possible that he had. There had been twenty or thirty well-lighted seconds—on the other hand, Mac in his rough work clothes and odd hair didn’t look like the man Purdy knew in New York as Jack Waldron. There was no telling from Purdy’s sullen silence whether he had recognized Mac or not—whether he guessed Cherry and Mac were friends.

  Reed and two of his counselors waited outside Purdy’s house, standing beside the Thunder Cliff truck. That was a relief. Reed must have recruited his guards quickly, while she and Dr. Lowell treated Purdy in the infirmary.

  “All right, Mr. Purdy, we’ll help you into the house,” Reed said. It was said in such a way as to avert Purdy’s suspicion, but Purdy did not like all this attention.

  “Thank you, I can manage.” Purdy brushed aside Reed’s proffered arm and limped quite rapidly to his cottage. “Well? What are all of you waiting for?”

  Cherry sensed that these three young men intended to keep watch on Purdy’s house throughout the night. He must not be given a chance to slip away a second time.

  “Go home!” said Purdy. “Thank you very much. Good night!”

 
They made a show of removing themselves and their vehicles from his premises. Purdy went into the house and closed and bolted the door.

  “He knows,” Reed muttered to Cherry, a few minutes later, from the orchard, where they watched. Against the drawn curtains they saw Purdy’s shadow, as he peered out into the night. “One of us had better be posted across the road at the lake,” Reed said.

  “What if he does guess he’s under surveillance?” Cherry murmured. “What worries me is that Mac Cook passed us just now in the road.” And she told Reed what had happened.

  “That’s not so good,” Reed admitted. “If Purdy recognized Mac, the game is up.”

  Reed would not let her stay to keep watch. Cherry trudged back to camp alone. She considered walking over to the Eplers’ or telephoning, to warn them. But suppose Purdy listened in on the party line, or glimpsed her moving toward the Eplers’? No, she had better be discreet and stay in camp.

  Since Dr. Lowell did not need her at the infirmary, and most of the camp was asleep by now, Cherry went to bed, too. There she lay listening to the wind in the trees, and speculating whether Purdy would try to return to Tall Man’s Island for whatever he had been doing there, or left there. Cherry thought of Reed and his two counselors keeping watch. The night had grown cloudy. A light rain started to fall. She hoped all would go well with Reed this night.

  CHAPTER XII

  Pursuit

  “GUESS WHAT?” SAID SUE, POKING HER HEAD IN AT THE open cabin windows before Cherry was fully awake. “My cabin harvested the best vegetable crop at the Model Farm! We won the reward.”

  “Congratulations.” Cherry yawned in spite of herself. “What reward? But first tell me, how did Katy do?”

  “We call her Katy the Carrot Queen. Confidentially, Katy did some of the meanest jobs,” Sue said. “You know, after you pull new carrots and beets, somebody has to take them down to the stream and wash off the tops and roots. And that somebody always gets wet and dirty. Well, Katy never squawked once. I never saw such a change in a girl!”

  “Congratulations twice.” Cherry smiled at Sue; they understood each other. “Now what about the reward?”

  “Well, we Mountaineers piled into Uncle Bob’s car last evening and he drove us to the village, and treated us to ice cream. Way past bedtime. I mean, it’s an honor, besides being fun.”

  “You mean the other kids were green with envy.”

  “Well, yes.” Sue grinned. Then she grew thoughtful. “You want to know something else? I heard a crazy thing at the garage, last evening.”

  Garage … Something Fred Epler had said came dimly to Cherry’s memory.

  “The garageman said,” Sue chattered on, “and believe me, he was hopping mad—Anyway, he said someone broke in and stole his portable acetylene torch from out of the garage, a couple of nights ago. He thinks the thief is up to something because—”

  “What! Did you say acetylene torch?”

  Cherry jumped off her cot and shook Sue by the shoulders.

  “Say it again.” Sue did. “Are you absolutely sure?”

  “Yes, Miss Cherry! Ask Katy and Ding. They were with me. They heard the garageman, too.”

  “All right, Sue. I’m happy to take your word for it.”

  An acetylene torch would account for the sparks in the dusk, for the ether odor, for Purdy’s burned foot.

  “Remember someone broke into Mr. Purdy’s barn?” Sue asked. “Do you think the same fellow broke into the garage? Hey, Miss Cherry, you aren’t listening!”

  The sparks she and Reed had seen shot down instead of up. But of course! An acetylene torch was used either to weld or to cut hard metals, and the shower of sparks fell downward as the blue flame bit into the metal. So Purdy had been welding or cutting something made of metal—

  The box—the box whose imprint she had seen in the mud—it could be steel, couldn’t it? And if he was carrying the torch too, he might have rested the box on the ground as he shifted his load. Purdy wouldn’t very likely be welding anything onto it—no, he’d be trying to open the steel box.

  Suddenly all the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. Cherry thought, “Why, I’ll bet Purdy was trying to open a steel cashbox he stole from the loan company safe.”

  She remembered that the news accounts had been singularly reticent about what money had been taken, or in what form. A casual reader like herself would assume that the safe held loose bundles of bills, but now that she came to think about it, most safes had compartments which held drawers for documents and contained a locked steel strongbox for cash. Purdy could have snatched the locked steel box of cash and concealed it under his voluminous raincoat.

  “I’ll bet that’s it, or very close to the truth!”

  And Purdy must have secreted the steel box in his barn all these weeks, struggling to unlock it, unable to force the steel lid open—until, as a last resort, he’d stolen an acetylene torch! Was she guessing right? Cherry thought so, because Purdy had left so promptly after stealing the torch—for an isolated spot where he thought he would not be observed at work.

  Cherry threw on her clothes, skipping the usual morning shower in her haste, and ran out on an astonished Sue. Reed, Mac, and the Eplers had to hear about the missing acetylene torch at once. Reed first, because he was nearest. As she ran down the road to Purdy’s place, Cherry wondered how far Mr. Purdy might have succeeded in burning a steel box open. How handy was he with heavy tools? He’d burned his foot. On the other hand, Purdy developed all his own photographs, built props, installed locks on his barn.

  To her horror, on arriving at Purdy’s house, she found his house door wide open and not a soul around. Purdy’s car was still here. Cherry called, ran to the barn, rattled its locked door. No answer, no lights. She looked in vain for any Thunder Cliff vehicles, but they had gone. What had happened since she left here last night?

  “I’d better phone Thunder Cliff and find out if Reed is there.”

  Cherry sped down the road to the Eplers’ farm. She could telephone from there and at the same time alert Mac Cook and Fred Epler.

  Vernie and Fred were at breakfast in the kitchen. Mac ran out just as Cherry rapped and came in.

  “Come back!” she called. “It’s me, I’m alone.”

  Fred and Vernie stared at her. She had not even said good morning. Mac sheepishly returned to the kitchen, carrying his coffee cup.

  “Something’s happened, Miss Cherry?”

  “A great deal has happened. In the first place, how come you were out walking on the road last evening, Mac Cook?”

  “I just had to stretch my legs. It was dark. Didn’t you see me wave to you? You didn’t wave back.”

  “I saw you,” said Cherry. “Purdy saw you, too. Purdy was driving with me.”

  “Purdy!” Mac leaned weakly against the wall. Vernie murmured that they had warned Mac against going out.

  “We brought Purdy back.” Cherry rapidly explained what had happened on their so-called picnic to Tall Man’s Island. Then she repeated Sue’s report about how and when the acetylene torch had been stolen. “Guess who stole it, and why,” Cherry said dryly.

  The Eplers and Mac were stunned. “The new steel cashbox,” Mac muttered. “That’s what he took from the safe—I knew it, I knew it! He needed the torch because the box has a combination lock that couldn’t possibly be jimmied open.”

  “Where’s Purdy now?” Fred Epler asked. “Let’s be practical. What’s our next move?”

  “Let me call up Reed,” said Cherry. “He was on night watch, but—”

  Mac went with her into the hall to the telephone. She asked the operator for Thunder Cliff, waited to be put through, waited again while Reed was summoned from morning assembly to the telephone.

  “Reed? . . Cherry. I’ve just been over to Purdy’s place and I don’t understand—”

  “All right, Cherry, take it easy. We had some bad luck, that’s all. I’m glad you phoned. I tried to get you earlier but the line was busy.”

&
nbsp; “Reed, I don’t mean to scold you, but where is Purdy?”

  There was a pause, then Reed said:

  “I don’t know. The other two fellows wouldn’t stay after two A.M., in the rain, with no satisfactory explanation from me. Of course I stayed on. But, well, I didn’t fall asleep, I did watch, but somehow Purdy outfoxed me. He knows every inch of his place, and I—well—”

  “Oh, Reed. Hold on—” Cherry muttered to Mac Cook what Reed had just said. Mac’s face turned as gray as the wallpaper.

  “Reed? Anything else?”

  “Yes. Remember we left the canoe and the rowboat last evening at the shore just outside camp? Well, I checked, and the rowboat is gone. It couldn’t have floated away. Purdy must have taken it. Sure as anything he’s on his way back to Tall Man’s Island—”

  “—to get the money he left there. Of course. That’s where he’s gone.” She felt Mac pulling at her arm.

  “Call the police,” said Mac urgently.

  “What? Reed—you still there? … Mac wants to call the police. Can you come over here right away?”

  Reed reminded her that today it was his job to take both the brother and sister camps into town to the circus. Although counselors would help, it was Reed’s responsibility. He could not possibly get off. It would be an all-day project.

  “I’m sorry, Cherry, but I have a job to do.”

  “You’ve been a tremendous help already,” Cherry said warmly. “Thanks a million. I hope you’ll sleep through the circus.”

  “So do I, for once. Good luck,” Reed said, and hung up.

  Cherry turned back to Mac Cook.

  “From here on in,” Mac said, “it’s a race between us and Purdy for the stolen money—that is, for the proof. If Purdy makes off with it, I’ll never be cleared!”

  “But, Mac, you didn’t want to call the police—”

  “I do now! We need their help! Don’t you see? Purdy has incriminated himself, a little, by stealing the acetylene torch. The garageman told Fred that Purdy wanted it awful badly; he’d been asking for it for days—” Mac took the phone out of Cherry’s hands. His own hands trembled. “I’ll call the police myself.”