The Rover Boys Megapack

by Edward Stratemeyer

  “What?” asked the three Rovers, eagerly.

  “Well—” The boatman slowly shifted his quid of tobacco from one side of his mouth to the other. “I was thinking I might know a little.”

  “But what? Tell us, man!” cried Dick. “Don’t keep us waiting.”

  “It ain’t much,” was the slow reply. “I was out rowing, you understand—coming from the Point to Harden’s dock, when I see a boat I didn’t know, moving across the lake.”

  “Yes,” said Sam, impatiently.

  “She put across the lake, and she had two men and a woman in her. The woman wore a dark dress and a dark veil.”

  “It must have been Mrs. Stanhope!” cried Dick. “When was this?”

  “About the same time they say the lady disappeared.”

  “Where did the boat go to?” asked Tom.

  “Well, I was kind of curious to know whose boat it was, so I watched pretty closely, and she went in over there,” and the old boatman pointed with his hand to a spot on the opposite shore where there was a tall rock and a fair-sized cove.

  “Take us over there at once and I’ll pay you well,” said Dick. “Get out two pairs of oars, and we’ll help you to row.”

  Slow though he was, Caleb Belcher was always anxious to earn money, and soon a rowboat was gotten ready and the three Rover boys sprang in. The old boatman followed, and the craft was headed across the lake.

  “Who lives near that spot?” questioned Dick, as they swept over the calm bosom of the lake.

  “Tony Carew’s farm isn’t far off,” answered the old boatman.

  “Anybody else?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “Do you know this Tony Carew.”

  “Guess I do—we went to school together, and licked each other more’n a dozen times,” and Caleb Belcher chuckled over the recollection.

  “All right, show us to his place,” said Dick.

  As soon as the shore was reached all sprang out of the boat, which was tied to a bush growing nearby. Then Caleb Belcher led the way along a trail that was rather rough. Presently they came to a road and on it an old farmhouse.

  “There is Tony Carew now,” said Belcher, and pointed to an old man who sat on a bench, smoking.

  “I didn’t have nuthin’ to do with it—you can’t mix me up in it!” cried Tony Carew, as soon as Dick stated the object of his visit. “I didn’t tech the lady!” And he bobbed his head vigorously. Evidently he was a man easily scared.

  “I want to learn if you know anything about it,” returned Dick, sternly. “If you do, tell me.”

  “I didn’t tech the lady! I wouldn’t tech nobuddy!” howled Tony Carew.

  “Did you see her and the men?”

  “Yes—but I didn’t tech nobuddy, I tell you. I stayed in the barn.”

  “But you saw her!” cried Dick. “Where did she go? Or where did those men take her?”

  “The hull crowd got in a carriage wot was waitin’ down the road.”

  “Whose carriage?”

  “I dunno. They had a white hoss an’ a black hoss, an’ the carriage had the top kinder torn.”

  “Who was driving?”

  “A man with a linen duster, an’ a cap pulled away down over his face.”

  “Which way did they go?”

  “That way,” answered Tony Carew, and pointed to a side road leading eastward.

  CHAPTER XIX

  ON THE WAY TO BOSTON

  The Rover boys gazed down the road with interest. It ran between a number of tall trees, and looked to be lonely in the extreme.

  “Where does it lead to?” asked Sam.

  “It’s an old road, running to Shaville,” answered Tony Carew. “It ain’t hardly used any more.”

  “And that is why those rascals took it,” answered Dick. “They wanted to keep in the dark as much as possible. How far to Shaville?”

  “’Bout two miles.”

  “Can you take us over in a carriage? We’ll pay you, of course.”

  “To be sure! But, say, honestly, I didn’t have nuthin’ to do with carryin’ her off!” cried the old farmer.

  “I believe you,” answered Dick. “But it’s a pity you didn’t report what you knew to the Cedarville police.”

  “I didn’t want to git in no trouble.”

  “Want me any more?” asked Caleb Belcher.

  “We may want you,” answered Dick. “Stay here for a couple of hours, anyway.”

  “My price is twenty-five cents an hour.”

  “All right—and there’s a dollar on account,” and Dick passed the money over.

  A fairly good horse and wagon were brought from the barn, and the boys and Tony Carew got in. Then the horse was urged forward, and over the uneven road they bumped, in the direction of the village of Shaville, a sleepy community, with one store, a blacksmith shop, a church, and about a dozen cottages.

  When Shaville was reached the boys commenced a diligent search for some news concerning the carriage with the white and the black horse and the dilapidated top. At first they could find nobody who had seen such a turnout, but presently they met a tramp whom Sam stopped, and he gave them news that was surprising.

  “I see ’em!” cried the tramp. “Say, boss, give me a dollar an’ I’ll tell you all I know.”

  “You’ll tell all you know without the dollar!” cried Dick, and grabbed the knight of the road by the collar. “Come now, tell me, quick!”

  “Don’t hurt me!” yelled the tramp. “I was only foolin’. Course I’ll tell you.”

  He was subjected to close questioning, and from him it was learned that the carriage with the three men and the lady had passed through Shaville and turned towards Latown. The lady had tried to jump from the carriage just while it was passing the tramp, but the men had held her back. He had heard the men mention Latown, and also speak of an automobile.

  “One feller was an old gent, who looked like a perfesser,” said the tramp.

  “That must have been Crabtree,” said Tom.

  “Can it be that they were going to leave the carriage and take to an auto at Latown?” came from Sam.

  “Perhaps,” answered Dick. “If they did take to an auto it will be mighty hard to find them.”

  Tossing the tramp a quarter, they went on their way, and presently reached Latown, and there hurried to the only garage the place possessed. There they learned that the garage owner had rented a touring car out several days before and it had not yet been returned.

  “The fellow who rented it was to pay me ten dollars a day, but I didn’t think he’d keep it so long,” said the man. “He gave me his card.”

  “Why, it is my card!” ejaculated Dick, on glancing at the pasteboard. “The nerve of him! Of course it was Sobber—or one of his cronies.”

  It was not until nightfall that the boys learned what had become of the touring car. Then they found a boy who had seen the car, with three men and two women in it, speeding towards the Albany road. This lad took them to the very spot where he had seen the car.

  “One of the ladies was terribly excited,” said the lad. “When she saw me, she shouted something and then threw one of her hair combs at me. Here is the comb now.”

  “It must be Mrs. Stanhope’s,” was Dick’s comment. “She wanted it to be used to trace her by.”

  “It is hers,” said Sam. “I remember, she had a pair of them.”

  “What did she shout?” asked Dick.

  “I couldn’t make out, exactly. It sounded like Boston—but I ain’t sure.”

  “Boston?” repeated Dick. “Oh, it can’t be! That is too far away.”

  “They might be headed for Boston. There is a fine road for autos from Albany to the Hub—the old post-road,” said Tom.

  “I’ll telephone along the line and try to find out
where they went,” answered Dick.

  It was not until the next day that word came in from Albany that the automobile had been seen in that city. It had stopped at a garage to have a tire fixed. No one was in it at the time but a young man. He appeared to be in a great hurry, and had paid well for a rapid repair.

  From Albany the auto was traced across the Hudson river and to North Adams. But that was the last heard of it.

  “I am going to North Adams,” said Dick.

  “It looks as if they did really go to Boston,” said Tom.

  “Well, they could make the run in a day if they tried real hard. The distance is only about a hundred and fifty miles.”

  All of the boys resolved to go to North Adams, and sent word to Cedarville to that effect. In return came a telegram from Mr. Rover, reading as follows:

  “Run them down if you possibly can. Do not spare expense.”

  “As if I would spare any expense!” murmured Dick. “I’d give all I possess to put Mrs. Stanhope back in her home, and put Josiah Crabtree back in prison!”

  “And put Sobber in prison, too,” added Tom.

  In North Adams the lads quite unexpectedly ran into Spud Jackson, who had been spending a few weeks with some relatives in the Berkshires. Spud was immediately interested in what the Rovers had to tell and proposed something that met with immediate approval.

  “My uncle Dan has got a dandy car—fast as they make ’em,” said Spud. “Can go about a hundred miles an hour, I guess. Well, he lets me run it whenever I want to. Say the word and we’ll start for Boston tomorrow, and make inquiries all along the road.”

  “Can you have the use of the car, Spud?” asked Sam.

  “Positively. Uncle Dan said I could make a tour of the White Mountains if I wished, but I don’t care for the scenery much—too much of it, I guess. But going to Boston, to catch those rascals, would hit me plumb.”

  So it was arranged that they should start eastward in the morning, and in the meantime Dick and his brothers sent out more messages.

  “Who do you think the other woman in that touring car can be?” asked Sam.

  “I don’t know, Sam,” answered his eldest brother. “Perhaps some unscrupulous party who was hired by Crabtree to look after Mrs. Stanhope.”

  “Dad said he had heard that Sobber got his money to go to court from a woman who was his great aunt.”

  “Well, she may be the one—most likely she is. I am only afraid of one thing.”

  “What’s that?” asked Tom.

  “That by some means old Crabtree will force Mrs. Stanhope to marry him before we can rescue her.”

  “I wonder why she doesn’t try to run away,” came from Sam.

  “Probably she has tried, Sam; but they watch her too closely.”

  “If they went to Boston, what will they do there?” queried Tom.

  “I don’t know—maybe take a liner for Europe, or to some other part of the earth. You must remember, they are playing for a big stake.”

  The touring car that Spud brought around the next morning was certainly an elegant affair. It seated five and was of sixty-horse power. Spud quickly demonstrated that he knew how to run the machine, so Dick did not offer to do so.

  “Now you do the bossing,” said Spud. “I’ll run her anywhere you please, even if you want to go to the top of Mount Washington.”

  “We are going after that other auto, that’s all,” answered Dick, grimly.

  The weather was ideal for touring and had they not been under such a mental strain the Rover boys would have enjoyed riding greatly. But they could think of nothing but Mrs. Stanhope and the missing fortune.

  “I suppose Dora is waiting every hour to hear from us,” said Dick.

  “Yes, and the Lanings are waiting, too,” added Tom.

  “And dad, and the folks at home,” supplemented Sam.

  They had sent a number of messages to Cedarville and now sent another, telling of their plans, and mentioning some towns at which they expected to stop. To this message no answer was returned until they reached Worcester, on the afternoon of the following day.

  “Hello, here’s news!” cried Dick. “Say, we want to get to Boston just as soon as we can!”

  “What is it?” asked the others, quickly.

  “Father has received a postal card, mailed from Boston. It is signed by Mrs. Stanhope, and asked for help.”

  “Does she give any address?” asked Tom.

  “He says all there is of the address is 234 Carm. He says the rest is rubbed out.”

  “Maybe we can find out in a directory what Carm stands for,” suggested Spud.

  “Exactly, Spud. Say, will you get us to Boston just as soon as possible?”

  “I sure will.”

  “How far is it?”

  “About thirty-five miles.”

  “Then you can make it in an hour.”

  “Yes, if—” And Spud closed one eye suggestively.

  “If what?”

  “If they don’t arrest us for speeding. It’s against the law to run fast, you know.”

  “Oh, well, we’ll have to take a chance,” declared Tom. “It’s a case of necessity.”

  As soon as they were outside of the city limits, Spud turned on the gasolene and advanced the spark, until the touring car was making forty and then forty-five miles per hour. On they tore, through Westboro and other places, and then on towards Wellesley.

  “Look out, here, that you don’t run down any college girls!” warned Dick, as they came in sight of Wellesley College.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t run down any girls for the world!” answered Spud, as he slowed down a bit. Soon the main street of Wellesley was left behind and on they sped for Newton and the Hub.

  “Hi! hi!” came a sudden call from the roadway, and a policeman appeared, waving his hand frantically.

  “Sorry, but we can’t stop to talk!” flung back Spud, and in a minute the officer of the law became a mere speck in the distance. He had not gotten their number, so could do nothing.

  They were just entering Boston proper when a loud report came from one of the rear tires. The car swerved to one side, and Spud had all he could do to keep it from going into a hitching post. Then he shut off the power.

  “A blow-out!” announced Tom, as he leaped to the ground.

  “That ends running for the present,” said Sam.

  “So it does,” agreed Spud, mournfully.

  CHAPTER XX

  AN ADVENTURE IN BOSTON

  The Rover boys looked at each other inquiringly. They wanted to go on, but did not know what to do about the stalled automobile.

  “You go ahead,” said Spud, reading their thoughts. “I’ll fix the tire, or have it done by some garage man, and I’ll see you later.”

  “Where?” asked Dick.

  “I’ll go to the Parker House—that is where my uncle always goes,” answered Spud.

  “Very well—we’ll call for you or send a message,” said Tom. “Come on, here is a trolley!” And he ran to stop the car. Soon he and his brothers were on board and bound for the heart of the city.

  “Say, do you know any street in town that begins with Carm?” questioned Dick, of the car conductor.

  “Carm?” repeated the man, slowly. “No, I don’t. I don’t believe there is such a street.”

  “Do you know the streets pretty well?”

  “I ought to—I drove an express wagon for four years.”

  “That looks as if we were up against it,” said Dick, to his brothers.

  “We’ll go in a drug store and consult a city directory,” answered Sam. “He may think he knows all the streets, but every city has a lot of places even the oldest inhabitant doesn’t know.”

  They rode on a few blocks further and then, seeing a large drug store, alighted from the car
and entered the place. A directory was handy, on a stand, and they asked for permission to consult it.

  “Nothing like Carm here,” said Tom, after they had looked at the alphabetical list of streets. “We are stumped, sure enough.”

  “Hello! I’ve got it—I think!” burst out Sam, so loudly that the attention of several persons in the store was attracted to him. “Here is a Varmolet street. Maybe Mrs. Stanhope only heard the name, and thought it was Carmolet. She wrote that down, and the end became rubbed off.”

  “You may be right, Sam,” answered Dick. “Anyway, I guess your idea is worth looking into. I wonder where Varmolet street is?”

  They made several inquiries, and at last learned that the street was a narrow and exceedingly crooked affair about half a mile away. They boarded another street car to visit the neighborhood.

  “Look who is here!” ejaculated Tom, as he and his brothers sat down.

  “Well, I never!” cried Sam.

  “Jerry Koswell and Bart Larkspur!” murmured Dick.

  It was indeed the two former students of Brill—the lads who had run away after causing the Rovers and some others so much trouble. Both were loudly dressed in summer outing flannels, and each carried an unlighted cigarette in his hand.

  “Huh!” grunted Jerry Koswell, as he glared at the Rovers. “Where did you come from?”

  “Perhaps we might ask the same question,” returned Dick, coldly.

  This meeting was not at all to his taste, especially when he and his brothers wished to turn their whole attention to locating Mrs. Stanhope and her enemies.

  “Have you been following us?” demanded Bart Larkspur.

  “No, Larkspur, we have something of more importance to do,” answered Tom.

  “Huh! you needn’t get gay, Rover!”

  “I’ll get gay if I wish,” retorted Tom, sharply.

  “You had better not follow us,” came in ugly tones from Jerry Koswell. “If you do you’ll get yourselves in hot water.”

  “See here, Koswell, and you too, Larkspur,” said Dick, in a low but distinct tone. “We know all about what you did at Brill—and so do the authorities know it. Just at present we haven’t time to bother with you. But some day we may get after you.”

  “Bah! you can’t scare me!” snorted Koswell. Yet his face showed that he was disturbed.