“I won’t take it, so there!” cried the man called Castor. “I know when I’ve had enough.”
“You’ve got to come along with us,” put in the third man savagely. “You owe us some money.”
“I don’t owe you a cent, Fusty.”
“Yes, you do—and I’m bound to have it. Hold him, Mike, till I go through him.”
Of a sudden there was a struggle, and the man called Castor found himself helpless, while the fellow called Fusty began to go through his pockets with great rapidity.
The scene alarmed Dick, and he wondered what he had best do. Then he made up his mind to go to Castor’s assistance, and ran forward.
“Here, let that man alone!” he cried, as he picked up a fence picket which happened to lie handy. “Leave him alone, I say!”
“The Old Nick take the luck!” muttered one of the other men. “Who’s this?”
“Help! Help!” cried Castor.
“Let him alone, I say!” repeated Dick, and then struck at one of the men and hit him on the arm.
Seeing himself thus re-enforced, Castor also struck out, and continued to call for help.
“We might as well give it up, Fusty!” cried one of the rascals, and took to his heels, and then there was nothing to do for the other man but to follow him.
“Are you hurt?” asked Dick as he helped the man who had been assaulted to his feet.
“Not much,” was the slow reply. “Young man, you came in time and no more.”
“Do you know those fellows who just ran away?”
“I met them at the circus this afternoon. We had several drinks and they became very friendly. I believe they were after my money.”
“I think so too, Mr.”
“My name is George Castor. And who are you?”
“I am Dick Rover, sir.”
“Rover, I must thank you for your services. I shan’t forget you, not me!” and George Castor held out his hand cordially. “I think I made a mistake by drinking with those fellows.”
“I haven’t any doubt of it, Mr. Castor.”
“Do you reside in town?”
“No, sir; I am stopping at the hotel with my brothers. We just came into town tonight on rather a curious errand.”
“Indeed, and what was that?”
In a few words Dick explained the situation. He had not yet finished when George Castor interrupted him.
“My boy, you have done me a good turn, and now I think I can return the compliment.”
“Do you mean to say you know something of this case?” demanded Dick eagerly.
“Perhaps I do. Describe this Dan Baxter as well as you can, will you?”
“Certainly.” And Dick did so.
“It is the same fellow. I met him last night, down near the lumber wharves. You see, I am a lumber merchant from Brooklyn, and I have an interest in a lumber company up here.”
“You saw Baxter? Was he alone?”
“No, there was another man with him, a tall, slim fellow, with an unusually sour face.”
“Josiah Crabtree to a T!” burst out Dick. “Did you notice where they went?”
“I did not. But I overheard their talk. They spoke about a boat on the Hudson River, the Flyaway. They were to join her at Albany.”
“Who was to join her?”
“This Baxter, if it was he, and somebody else—a man called Muff, or something like that.”
“Mumps! You struck them, sure enough! But did they say anything about the girl?”
“The tall man said that he would see to it that she was there—whatever he meant by that.”
“I can’t say any more than you, Mr. Castor. But I guess they are going to carry Dora Stanhope through to Albany from all appearances.”
“Then perhaps you had better follow.”
“I’d go at once if I had the money that I have telegraphed for. You see, my brothers and I came away in a hurry, for the Stanhopes are close friends of ours.”
“Don’t let the matter of money worry you. Do you know how much I have with me?
“I haven’t the slightest idea, sir.”
“Nearly eleven hundred dollars—and if those rascals had had the chance they would have robbed me of every dollar of it.”
“I shouldn’t think you would carry so much.”
“I don’t usually; but I was paid a large bill today, and went to the circus instead of the bank—not having seen such a show in years. But to come back to business. Will a hundred dollars see you through?”
“You mean to say you will loan me that much?”
“Perhaps I had better give it to you, as a reward for your services.”
“I won’t take it, for I don’t want any reward. But I’ll accept a loan, if you’ll make it, and be very much obliged to you,” continued Dick.
“All right, then, we’ll call it a loan,” concluded George Castor, and the transfer of the amount was made on the spot. Later on Dick insisted upon returning the money.
CHAPTER XVI
THE SEARCH FOR THE “FLYAWAY”
“Tom! Sam! Get up at once!”
“What’s the row now, Dick?” came sleepily from Tom. “Have you discovered anything?”
“Yes! I’ve discovered a whole lot. Get up if you want to catch the next train.”
“The next train for where?” demanded Tom, as he hopped out of bed.
“The next train for Albany.”
“Have they taken Dora to Albany?” questioned Sam, as he too arose and began to don his garments.
“I think so,” was the elder brother’s reply, and while the pair dressed, Dick told of what had occurred and what he had heard.
“This is getting to be quite a chase,” was Tom’s remark. “But I reckon you are right, and we’ll land on them in the capital.”
“If we aren’t too late,” answered Dick.
“I’d like to know how they are going to take Dora to Albany if she doesn’t want to go?” came from Tom, when they were dressed and on their way to the railroad station.
No one could answer this question. “Josiah Crabtree is a queer stick and can do lots of queer things,” was what Dick said.
The train left at half past two in the morning, and they had not long to wait. Once on board, they proceeded to make themselves as comfortable as possible, each having a whole seat to himself, and Sam and Tom went to sleep without much trouble. But Dick was wide awake, wondering what would be the next move on reaching Albany.
“Poor Dora!” he murmured. “Oh, but that crowd shall be punished for this! If she comes to harm it will almost kill Mrs. Stanhope.” And his heart sank like a lump of lead as he thought of his dearest friend in the power of her unscrupulous enemies.
It was just getting daylight when the long train rolled into the spacious depot at the state capital. Only a few working people and newsboys were stirring. Tom and Sam pulled themselves together with long yawns.
“Sleeping in a seat doesn’t come up to a bed, by any means,” remarked Tom. “Which way now?”
“We’ll go down to the river and look for the Flyaway,” answered his elder brother.
“It will be like looking for a needle in a hay-stack,” said Sam. “The boats are pretty thick here.”
“That is true, but it is the best we can do,” replied the elder Rover.
Once along the river front they began a careful inquiry concerning the boat of which they were in search.
“Not much progress,” remarked Tom, after two hours had been spent in vain. “This climbing from one dock to the next is decidedly tiring.”
“And I’m hungry,” put in Sam. “I move we hunt up a restaurant.” An eating place was not far away, and, entering, they ordered a morning meal of ham and eggs, rolls, and hot coffee.
While they were eating a man came i
n and sat down close by them. It was Martin Harris, the fellow who had come to their assistance after the collision between the Spray and the Falcon.
“Hullo, how are you?” he said heartily. “Still cruising around in your yacht?”
“No, we just got back to Albany,” replied Dick. “We’ve been to school since we left you.”
“I see. How do you like going back to your studies?”
“We liked it well enough,” put in Tom. “But we left in a hurry!” he went on, thinking Martin Harris might give them some information. “Have you been out on the river yet this morning?”
“Yes; just came up from our place below to do a little trading.”
“Did you see anything of a yacht called the Flyaway?”
“The Flyaway? What sort of a looking craft is she?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“One boat there attracted my attention,” said Martin Harris slowly. “I saw two boys and a girl on board of her.”
“How was the girl dressed?” cried Dick.
“She had on a light-blue dress and a sailor hat.”
“And the boys?”
“One was dressed in gray and the other in dark-blue or black.”
“That was the boat! Where did she go?” ejaculated Dick, who remembered well how Mumps and Baxter had been attired, and the pretty dress and hat Dora was in the habit of wearing.
“She was bound straight down the river.”
“We must follow her.”
“That’s the talk!” burst out Tom. “But how?”
“What do you want to follow the Flyaway for?” asked Martin Harris curiously.
“Those two boys are running away with that girl!”
“Impossible!”
“No, it isn’t. One of the fellows—the fellow in dark clothing—is the chap who ran into us that day.”
“Well, now, do you know I thought it looked like him,” was Harris’ comment. “And, come to think of it, that boat got as far away from me as she could.”
“Do you think you would know her again? I mean the Flyaway—if we got anywhere near her?” asked Dick.
“I think I would, lad. She had a rather dirty mainsail and jib, and each had a new patch of white near the top. Then, too, her rig is a little different from what we have around here. Looked like a Southern boat.”
“Have you your boat handy?”
“Yes, she’s right at the end of this street. Do you want me to follow up that crowd?”
“Could your boat catch the Flyaway, do you think?”
“My boat, the Searchlight, is as good a yacht as there is anywhere around, if I do say it myself,” answered Martin Harris promptly. “It you don’t believe it, try her and see.”
“We will try her,” came promptly from Dick. “And the sooner you begin the chase the better it will suit me.”
“All right; we’ll start as soon as I’ve swallowed this coffee,” answered the skipper of the Searchlight. “But, hold on, this may prove a long search.”
“Do you want to make terms?”
“I wasn’t thinking of that. I’ll leave it to you as to what the job is worth, after we’re done. I was thinking that I haven’t any provender aboard my yacht, if we want to stay out any length of time.”
“I’ll fix that,” answered Dick. “Come, Sam. You say the yacht is at the foot of the street?”
“Yes.”
“We’ll be there in less than five minutes.”
“Where are you going—to buy provisions?”
“Yes.”
Dick made off, followed not only by Sam, but likewise by Tom. He found a large grocery close at hand, and here purchased some coffee, sugar, canned meat and fish, a small quantity of vegetables, and also several loaves of bread and some salt. To this Tom added a box of crackers and Sam some cake and fruit, and with their arms loaded down they hurried to the Searchlight.
Martin Harris was on hand, and ready to cast off. “Hullo, you did lay in some things?” he grinned. “I reckon you calculate this chase to last some time.”
“We’ve got enough for several days, anyway—that is, all but—water,” returned Dick.
“I’ve got a whole barrel full of that forward, lad.”
“Then we are ready to leave. I hope, though, we run the Flyaway down before noon,” concluded the elder Rover, as he hopped on board.
Leaving Sam to stow away the stores as he saw fit, Dick and Tom sprang in to assist Martin Harris, and soon the mainsail and jib were set, and they turned away from the dock and began the journey down the Hudson. As soon as they were clear of the other boats, the skipper set his topsail and flying jib, and they bowled along at a merry gait, the wind being very nearly in their favor and neither too strong nor too slack.
“Now I’d like to hear the particulars of this case,” remarked Martin Harris, as he proceeded to make himself comfortable at the tiller. “You see, I want to know just what I am doing. I don’t want to get into any trouble with the law.”
“You won’t get into any trouble. Nobody has a right to run off with a girl against her will,” replied Dick.
“That’s true. But why are they running off with her?”
“I think they have been hired to do it by a man who wants to marry the girl’s mother,” went on Dick, and related the particulars of what had occurred.
Martin Harris was deeply interested. “I reckon you have the best end of it,” he said, when the youth had finished. “And you say this Dan Baxter is a son of the rascal who is suspected of robbing Rush & Wilder?”
“Yes.”
“Evidently a hard crowd.”
“You are right—and they ought all of them to be in prison,” observed Tom. “By the way, have they heard anything of those robbers?”
“The detectives are following up one or two clues. One report was that this Baxter and Girk had gone to some place on Staten Island. But I don’t think they know for certain.”
CHAPTER XVII
IN WHICH DORA IS CARRIED OFF
Perhaps it will be as well to go back a bit and learn how poor Dora was enticed into leaving home so unexpectedly, to the sorrow of her mother and the anxiety of Dick and her other friends.
Dora was hard at work sweeping out the parlor of the Stanhope cottage when she saw from the window a boy walking up the garden path. The youth was a stranger to her and carried a letter in his hand.
“Is this Mrs. Stanhope’s place?” he questioned, as Dora appeared.
“Yes.”
“Here’s a letter for Miss Dora Stanhope,” and he held out the missive.
“Whom is it from?”
“I don’t know. A boy down by the lake gave it to me,” was the answer, and without further words the lad hurried off, having received instructions that he must not tarry around the place after the delivery of the communication.
Tearing open the letter Dora read it with deep interest.
“What can Dick have to tell me?” she mused. “Can it be something about Mr. Crabtree? It must be.”
Dropping her work, she ran upstairs, changed her dress, put on her hat, and started for the boathouse.
It took her but a short while to reach the place, but to her surprise nobody was in sight.
“Can I have made some mistake?” she murmured; when the Falcon hove into view from around a bend in the shore line.
“Is that Miss Stanhope?” shouted a strange man, who seemed to be the sole occupant of the craft.
“Yes, I am Dora Stanhope,” answered the girl.
“Dick Rover sent me over from the other side of the lake. He told me if I saw you to take you over to Nelson Point.”
Nelson Point was a grove situated directly opposite Cedarville. It was a place much used by excursionists and picnic parties.
“Thank you,” said Dora,
never suspecting that anything was wrong. “If you’ll come in a little closer I will go with you.”
The Falcon was brought in, and Dora leaped on board of the yacht.
She had scarcely done so when Mumps and Dan Baxter stepped from the cabin.
“Oh, dear!” she gasped. “Where—where did you come from?”
“Didn’t quite expect to see us here, did you?” grinned the former bully of Putnam Hall.
“I did not,” answered Dora coldly. “What—where is Dick Rover?”
“Over to Nelson Point.”
“Did he send you over here for me?”
“Of course he did,” said Mumps.
“I do not believe it. This is some trick!” burst out the girl. “I want you to put me on shore again.”
“You can’t go ashore now,” answered Baxter.
“Ease her off, Goss.”
“Right you are,” answered Bill Goss. “What’s the course now?”
“Straight down the lake.”
“All right.”
“You are not going to take me down the lake!” cried Dora in increased alarm.
“Yes, we are.”
“I—I won’t go!”
“I don’t see how you are to help yourself,” responded Baxter roughly.
“Dan Baxter, you are a brute!”
“If you can’t say anything better than that, you had better say nothing!” muttered Baxter.
“I will say what I please. You have no right to carry me off in this fashion!”
“Well, I took the right.”
“You shall be locked up for it.”
“You’ll have to place me in the law’s hands first.”
“I don’t believe Dick Rover sent that letter at all!”
“You can believe what you please.”
“You forged his name to it.”
“Let us talk about something else.”
“You are as bad as your father, and that is saying a good deal,” went on the poor girl bitterly.
“See here, don’t you dare to speak of my father!” roared the bully in high anger. “My father is as good as anybody. This is only a plot against him—gotten up by the Rovers and his other enemies.”
Dan Baxter’s manner was so terrible that Dora sank back on a camp stool nearly overcome. Then, seeing some men at a distance, on the shore, she set up a scream for help.
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