Читать книгу Roy Blakeley's Silver Fox Patrol - Percy Keese Fitzhugh - Страница 6

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One thing he always carries with him, and that’s an old piece of storage battery out of an automobile. He found it on the bridge and he says a German spy left it there.

He has a black feather that he wears stuck in a button hole, because he says it was dropped by a raven. He’s in the Raven Patrol, you know. My sister said it dropped out of a girl’s hat.

When we got to Bennett’s we were just going to buy a couple of cones, when who should come walking in but Grace Bronson. Grove Bronson is her brother—he’s in our troop. He’s one of the raving Ravens, too. They’re crazy about tracking, the Ravens are—tracking and marsh-mallows. Right behind her, who do you think came walking in?

Oh boy, Harry Donnelle!

Maybe you don’t know him. But anyway, everybody in Bridgeboro knows him. And if you’ve read all the crazy stuff I’ve written about our adventures, you must know him. He’s about twenty-six years old, that fellow is, and Mr. Ellsworth tried to get him to start a scout troop, but he wouldn’t do it, because he said every night he has to kill a couple of Chinamen. He was a lieutenant in France and he got the Service Cross. He’s got red hair. I bet Grace Bronson likes him a lot—gee whiz, you couldn’t blame her. He’s kind of happy-go-lucky, reckless—you know. He’s Professor Donnelle’s son, but anyway, he’s not going to be a professor, because there’s no adventure in it. He’s been to Samoa and South Africa, that fellow has. He said if there was a tin spoon buried miles and miles away, he’d go and dig it up. That’s the kind of a fellow he is. He had jungle fever, too, and a lot of peachy things.

He always stops and speaks to us, because he likes us, so that night he gave me a kind of a push and shoved my hat to the back of my head and said, “What are you doing, Rob Roy? Buying out the store? How would a regular plate of cream strike you?”

“I might if I were urged,” I said.

“You don’t have to urge me,” Pee-wee piped up.

So then all four of us went back where the tables were and I ordered pineapple and vanilla. Pee-wee ordered plain vanilla, because one color always looks bigger than two.

Harry said, “Well, how are the wild adventures coming on? Been tracking in the silent depths of Terrace Court Park lately? Any more leopards?”

I said, “Oh, we’ve been doing a lot of killing lately—killing time.”

“How’s the old car?” he said, “When are you going to have the grand opening?”

I said, “You’d better be careful how you speak about that old car; it has a past—a dark past.”

Grace Bronson said, “Oh, isn’t that perfectly lovely?”

“There’s a mystery connected with it.” Pee-wee said.

“No!” Harry said, kind of jollying Pee-wee. “How long has it been connected?”

“Twenty-five long years,” Pee-wee said, all the while working away on his ice cream.

“Long ones, hey?” Harry said.

“Do you know what happened to the train that car was on once?” Pee-wee said.

“Come in on time?” Harry began laughing; because that’s one thing the trains out our way never do.

“Worse than that,” Pee-wee said; “here read this letter that we found way in under the stuffing of the seat.”

The kid started digging down in his pocket and pretty soon that table looked like a church rummage sale.

“Did you ever?” Grace Bronson said; “what in the world is this?”

“Take your pick,” I told her; “souvenirs of the boy scouts.”

All the while Harry Donnelle was reading the letter and I could see he was interested, because he didn’t bother to jolly Pee-wee about all the rest of that junk. When he was finished he didn’t say a single word, only handed it to Grace and watched her while she read it, all the while drumming with his fingers on the table.

“And you found it?” she said. “Oh, I think it’s too romantic for anything! Did you ever read such a letter! It carries you back to the old days. Just think how it was there all these years. Who do you suppose Ann was? And it all happened before I was born. Isn’t that wonderful!”

Harry said, “Oh, quite a few things happened before you were born.”

Then he took the letter and read it through again, and then folded it in the old creases. Then he just said, “Humph!” After that he opened it very carefully and laid it on the table and read it again. Then he said, sort of as if he were thinking, “Bully old top, that fellow was. I’d like to have known him. He seems to have been made out of pretty good stuff.”

“And he was so brave,” Grace said.

Jiminies, I’ll never forget how Harry Donnelle looked that night while he sat there studying that letter. He just kept rubbing his tongue along his lips, and studying the paper, just as if he were trying to do an example.

After a while he said, “Funny; wonder what became of that other chap—or scoundrel as old Hickory-nut calls him.”

“That’s a good name for him—Hickory-nut,” I said.

“I wonder who he was,” Grace said; “and he was bringing seeds home for his wife to plant! Isn’t that lovely where he admits he’s a rough diamond! Oh, I think he was splendid.”

“He was a hero,” Pee-wee said.

“And he was bringing those seeds home to her,” Grace said, “so they would grow up and they could have the same kind of a tree at home—oh, I think he was just splendid!”

“He was a bully old cheese,” Harry said.

“He wasn’t a cheese at all,” Grace said, kind of all excited like. “He thought more of his home than he did even of his bags of gold. Even those seeds that he lost—oh, I think he was fine!”

Harry just looked at her, kind of smiling, and he said, “Thanks for your hint; it takes a girl to see that side of it. Those seeds may come in handy. What I was thinking about was, if that other chap——”

“He wasn’t a chap, he was a villain!” she said.

“Well, whatever he was,” Harry kept on, “if he was shot and had to limp, how far would he get before he had to drop the bags of gold. I was wondering if maybe he buried them. Buried treasure is the regular thing, you know. Hey, Scout Harris? Then I was wondering if he buried it, how somebody could find it. Just for a stunt, you know. More fun than sitting on the porch, anyway—or playing tennis. How about that, Scout Harris?

“I kinder like what old Hickory says about paying him in good measure with a bullet in his leg. I have a kind of hunch he didn’t get far—in those woods. Maybe he buried his pal and the bags at the same time—if he was able. Be pretty good fun looking into the affair, hey? Wish I knew who he was and where he is; then we might have something to go by. I’d never have thought twice about those seeds if it hadn’t been for you, Grace. How about it, you kids? Scouts are supposed to know all about trees and things. What do you know about the Dahadinee poplar? We may be able to bang some fun out of this letter yet. Hey, Sir Walter?”

Grace said, “I think you’re perfectly heartless, that’s what I think. All you think about is the adventure.”

“Might as well take an auto trip in one direction as another,” Harry said. “What’s the difference as long as we’re burning gasoline. Hanged if I know where Steuben Junction is, but I guess it’s somewhere. No use hunting for old Hick—he may be dead. If you kids want to hunt up the Dahadinee poplar and see what you can find out about it, I’ll hunt up Steuben Junction, if there is such a place now. Then I’ll get a couple of new tires and——”

“How about me?” Grace said.

“Oh, when we get up there we’ll send you a post-card, nice and pretty, showing the village store,” Harry said.

“Don’t you care,” Pee-wee told her; “we’ll take Grove with us, and he’ll tell you all about it when we get back.”