Airship Andy: or, The Luck of a Brave Boy. Webster Frank V.

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СКАЧАТЬ might have halted, but the sight of Gus Talbot and Dale Billings bringing up the rear armed with heavy sticks so entirely suggested an onslaught of force that he changed his mind. He paid no attention whatever to the furious shouts and direful threats of Talbot.

      Andy put ahead at renewed speed. At a second turn in the highway a man was raking up hay, and he suspended his work and stared at the fugitive and his pursuers, as Talbot roared out:

      “Stop him, Jones – he’s a runaway and a thief!”

      Farmer Jones was not spry enough to shorten the circuit Andy made, but he thrust out the rake to its full length. Andy’s foot caught in its tines, dragged, tripped, and the boy went flat to the ground.

      “I’ve got him!” hailed Jones, promptly pouncing down upon him.

      “Hold him!” panted Talbot, rushing to the spot, and his hard, knotty fingers got an iron clutch on Andy’s coat collar and jerked him to his feet.

      “What’s the trouble, neighbor?” projected the farmer curiously.

      “A thief isn’t the matter!” shot out Andy hotly, recalling the words of his employer.

      “You’ll have to prove that,” blustered Talbot. “If you’re innocent, what are you running for?”

      “I was running away from you,” admitted Andy boldly, “because I want to be honest and decent.”

      “What’s that?” roared the irate Talbot. “Do you hear him, Jones? He admits he was going to break his contract with me. Well, the law will look to that, you ungrateful young cub!”

      “Law! contract!” cried Andy scornfully, fully roused up and fearless now. “Have you kept your contract with me? You don’t want me, you want that two hundred dollars – ”

      “Shut up! Shut up!” yelled Talbot, and he muzzled Andy with one hand and dragged him away from the spot. Farmer Jones grinned after them, and he shrugged his shoulders grimly as he noticed Gus Talbot and Dale Billings halted down the road, as if averse to coming any nearer.

      “’Pears to me you’re having a good deal of trouble with your boys, Talbot,” chuckled Jones. “That son of yours got a few cracks from my cane last evening when he was helping himself to some of my honey among the hives.”

      Once out of hearing of the farmer, Gus Talbot edged up to his father.

      “Has he got the money?” he inquired eagerly. “Make him tell, father, search him.”

      “I’ll attend to all that,” retorted the elder Talbot gruffly. “Here, you two fall behind. There’s no need of attracting attention with a regular procession.”

      Talbot did not relax his hold of the prisoner until they had reached the garage. He roughly threw Andy into the lumber room. Then, panting and irritated from his unusual exertions, he planted himself in the doorway. Gus and Dale hovered about, anxious to learn the outcome of the row.

      “Now then, Andy Nelson,” commenced the garage owner, “I’ve just a few questions to ask you, and you’ll answer them quick and right, or it will be the worse for you.”

      “It has certainly never been the best for me around here,” declared Andy bitterly, “but I’ll tell the truth, as I always do.”

      “Did you find a pocketbook with some money in it in one of my cars?”

      “I did,” admitted Andy – “two hundred dollars. It belonged to my fare, who lost it, and it’s going back to him.”

      “Hand it over.”

      “I can’t do that.”

      “Why not?” demanded Talbot stormily.

      “Because I haven’t got it.”

      “Who has?”

      “Mr. Dawson, the banker. I took it to him when I left the garage.”

      “Oh, you did?” muttered Seth Talbot, looking baffled and furious.

      “Yes, sir. I told him that it was lost money, explained the circumstances, and that if a certain Mr. Robert Webb called or telegraphed for it, to let him have it.”

      “Is that the name of the man you took over to Macon?”

      “That is the name written in red ink on the flap of the pocketbook,” and Andy drew out the former receptacle of the banknotes. “‘Robert Webb, Springfield.’ I shall write to him at Springfield and tell him where the money is.”

      Seth Talbot fairly glared at Andy. He got up and wriggled and hemmed and hawed, and sat down again.

      “Young man,” he observed in as steady tone of voice as he could command, “you’ve shown a sight of presumption in taking it on yourself to lay out my business system. Here you’ve gone and implied that I was not fit to be trusted.”

      Andy was silent.

      “I won’t have it; no, I won’t have it!” shouted the garage-keeper. “It’s an imputation on my honor! I’ll give you just one chance to redeem yourself. You go back to the bank and tell Mr. Dawson that we’ve got on the direct track of the owner of the money, and bring it back here.”

      “That would be a lie,” said Andy.

      “Don’t we know where he is?”

      “In a general way, but so does the bank. It would be a cheat, too, for I don’t believe you want to get the money back to its rightful owner any more than you wanted to pay me the tip that passenger left here for me last week.”

      Andy had been too bold. Talbot rose up, towering with rage. He sprang upon Andy, and threw him upon the cot, holding him there by sheer brute strength.

      “Here, you Gus – Dale!” he shouted. “Off with his hat and shoes. And his coat – no, let me look that over first. Aha!”

      Gus Talbot considered it high sport to assail a defenceless and outnumbered adversary. He and Dale snatched off cap and shoes without gentleness or ceremony. Talbot had got hold of Andy’s little purse and had brought to light the five dollars so carefully folded and stowed away there.

      “Honest? Ha, ha! Decent? Ho, ho!” railed the old wretch. “Where did you get this five dollars without stealing it?”

      “Bet he got ten dollars for the run to Macon and held back half of it,” chimed in Gus.

      “My fare gave it to me for making good time,” explained Andy. “If you don’t believe it, write to him.”

      “Yah!” jibed Talbot; “tell that to the marines!”

      He kicked Andy’s shoes and cap under a bench in the outer room and threw his coat up among a lot of old rubbish on a platform under the roof.

      “Get the strongest padlock and hasp in the place,” he ordered his son, “and secure that door. As to you, young man,” he continued to Andy, “I’ll give you till night to make up your mind to get back that money.”

      “I never will,” declared Andy positively.

      “Boy,” СКАЧАТЬ