CHAPTER XXII
THE PAWN TICKETS
"Well, I'm certainly going to be in a nice pickle if that's Mendezcoming back," thought Tom, as he gave the blanket on the cot asurreptitious pull to better conceal his person. "I guess I was sevenkinds of a chump to come here. I ought to have told the fellows, andthen one of them could have done sentry duty for me. As it is, if anyonecomes in here I'm as good as caught. A nice story it will make, too--aRandall man found in a caretaker's shack."
He listened intently, and heard the approaching steps pause outside thedoor. Then came a key rattling in the lock.
"Just my luck," murmured Tom. "It's Mendez coming back. That job didn'tlast as long as I thought it would, or else he's forgotten something.Whew! If he sees me there'll be a fight all right. He'll take me for aburglar, sure, or else he'll know why I'm here. I wonder if all Mexicanscarry knives? There isn't much here for a fellow to defend himselfwith."
Tom peered out from under the cot, and made up his mind, if worst cameto worst, that he would roll out, and grab up the heavy stove poker hesaw.
"That will make a pretty good club," he reasoned. "Hang it all! whydidn't I tell the fellows? If this Mendez does me up he may hide my bodyhere, and the fellows will never know what became of me. I ought to havetold them--and yet I did it this way to keep Ruth's secret. I meant itfor the best."
Again Tom listened. The fumbling at the lock of the door continued.
"If that's Mendez he doesn't seem to know how to open his own door,"mused Tom. "Maybe he's got the wrong key."
This seemed to be so, for there was a jingling as of several keys, andthen a voice was heard to mutter. Tom started in his hiding place underthe cot.
"That's not the voice of Mendez!" he exclaimed. "What am I up against?"
A wild idea came to him.
"Maybe some of our fellows got wise to the same thing I did, and they'retrying to get in here," he thought. "If they see me there'll be asurprise," and he smiled grimly.
The unknown person outside the shack seemed to be trying a number ofkeys, one after the other, in the lock. At the same time there was animpatient muttering.
"That's not Mendez," decided Tom. "And from the voice it's none of ourfellows, either. I wonder if it can be Boswell?"
The complications that might ensue if it was the rich student, whoseemed to be sharing some secret with the Mexican, kept Tom busythinking for a few seconds, and then his attention was further drawntoward the person outside.
"Hang it all!" exclaimed a voice in nasal tones--plainly the voice ofan elderly man--"he's got some newfangled kind of a lock on here, and Ican't get in. I wonder if a window is open?"
There was the rattle of a bunch of keys being returned to a pocket, andthen the sound of footsteps coming around to the side of the shack.
"He's going to try my game," thought Tom.
"Well if it isn't Mendez it's someone who hasn't any more right in herethan I have, and I'm not in so much danger. But who can it be?"
There was a struggle at the window, the sound of a fall, as if theattempt to enter had failed. Then came muttered words of anger and pain,and they were followed by the sound of feet beating a tattoo on the sideof the shack.
"He's scrambling up to the window," thought Tom, pulling the cotblankets farther down. A moment later someone dropped down inside theshack, and remained quietly in the middle of the floor, as though takinga survey of the place.
"Humph! It ain't much changed from when I was here last," a voicesaid, and Tom peered out from beneath a cautiously-raised blanket. Theidentity of the unexpected visitor startled him.
"Old Jake Blasdell!" murmured Tom, in a whisper. "The former caretaker!What in the world does he want here? I thought he had cleared out ofthese diggings."
"OLD JAKE BLASDELL!" MURMURED TOM, IN A WHISPER.]
Blasdell, for it was he, stood in the middle of the room of the shackwhere Mendez cooked, ate and slept--did everything, in fact, saveconduct his small store, which was an addition.
"It's better than when I had it," Blasdell murmured, for, as I havesaid, when Mendez succeeded the former caretaker he had moved theshack from the place where Blasdell had built it, and had considerablyimproved it. "Much better," went on the old man. "Them Mexicans ain'tso lazy as I've heard. Lucky for me I knowed of that window that didn'tclose very tight or I mightn't have gotten in. And lucky I happened tosee Mendez as I did, and learned that he would be away all day. Now I'min here where can I hide 'em. I don't dare carry 'em around with me muchlonger. Folks is beginning to suspect. And I'll take away that piece Ileft here, too."
"What in the world am I stacking up against?" thought the puzzled Tom.He looked out eagerly. Blasdell's back was turned toward the cot, butthe old man did not appear to have anything to hide.
"Can he be out of his mind?" thought Tom.
He heard the man fumbling about, but from his position could not seewhat he was doing, and Tom dared not put out his head from under the cot.
"There, I guess nobody'll think of lookin' for 'em there," went on theold man. "I s'pose mebby I ought t' destroy 'em, but they may come inuseful some time or other. I'll leave 'em here, and take away thattrinket."
Then came a sound as if the man had stepped down off a chair, or bench.Tom wished he could see what he had done, but at least he knew thatsomething had been hidden on that side of the room were the stove was.
"Now I wonder if I can get out of the consarned window?" the manmurmured. Tom heard him cross the room, and, after a struggle, therecame the sound of a jump on the earth outside.
"He's gone!" murmured Tom, as he listened to the retreating footsteps.Then he scrambled out from under the cot, and began making a hastysearch of the room.
If he had hoped to find Ruth's pin, the cups from Boxer Hall or any ofthe missing jewelry, Tom was disappointed. He made a thorough, butquick, search, not only in the shack proper, but in the store, though heknew Blasdell had not gone in there.
"What could he have hidden?" thought Tom. "I've got to get out of heresoon, or the fellows will be waiting for me."
He saw a small wooden clock on the mantle over the stove. An idea cameto him.
"Maybe that clock hides a secret hole in the wall," he thought. Steppingon a chair he moved the timepiece. As he did so the door came open, andin the lower part, where swung the pendulum, he saw several bits ofpaper. There was no hole in the wall, but, wonderingly Tom picked up thepapers. Then he started.
"Pawn tickets!" he cried, "and some of them for silver cups! I'm on thetrail at last!"
The Eight-Oared Victors: A Story of College Water Sports Page 23
