the moment the door had closed behind his friends tom clifton prepared to make good use of the time.
“now i’ll be able to finish it up in great shape,” he said softly to himself.
he listened, his face wearing a very serious expression, until their cheery voices were stilled by distance, then drawing a voluminous collection of papers from his inside pocket he spread them out carefully on the center table and set to work.
evidently the problems which confronted him were of a very profound and complex nature. the lines on his forehead deepened; occasionally he uttered a half sigh, as some particularly knotty point was encountered; then, losing patience, he rose to his feet and walked toward an armchair near the window.
picking up a book, the well-worn appearance of which indicated much usage, he opened it[89] at random and began to read a description of the deltoid muscle, its origin, insertion and various functions.
but a treatise on anatomy, just then, couldn’t hold tom’s attention long.
“by george, that twenty-second article is a sticker,” he exclaimed, aloud. “i’ll get it through.” he looked at his watch. “gee, i’ll have to hurry. isn’t victor the freshest little dub? afraid to take the car out alone, am i? he certainly does make me tired.”
when the obstinate twenty-second article was finally conquered the lad breathed a sigh of relief, and a good-natured grin replaced the scowl on his face, as he began gathering the loose sheets of paper together.
“it’s a dandy piece of work, all right—bet dave’ll think so, too,” he reflected. “we’re going to make some stir in the kingswood high this term.”
tom busied himself for a few moments in replacing his belongings in a suit case. this done, he glanced at his watch once more.
“it’s most time for ’em now,” he murmured. “crickets! i’m anxious to hop into that car again.”
[90]thoughts of the pleasant journey before them and the sensation which his by-laws were certainly bound to create were in his mind to the exclusion of all else, but, as time passed by, the former steadily gained the ascendency.
“what’s keeping those chaps, i wonder?” tom, in his impatience, paced the floor. “they ought to have been here before this.”
the next quarter of an hour was really a distressing period to the tall boy. every step in the corridor, every voice which penetrated into the room, made his heart beat with hope. but as each faded away it left him annoyed, even angry.
“never knew bob somers to fail in his word before,” he repeated several times.
unable to stand the dreary task of waiting any longer tom slapped on his cap, and, in a moment, was down-stairs at the door.
he looked searchingly along the street in both directions. but there were no familiar faces in the ever-passing throng.
“hang it all,” he growled. “if we were in chicago i might understand it, because there’s a fire every few minutes, or some kind of a[91] rumpus going on. but here!—why don’t those chaps come back?”
no answer was suggested by the mental query which insistently propounded itself; so, finally, with a last long look and grunt of disapproval, tom climbed back to bob somers’ room. the book on anatomy reappeared, and the student, with an air of deep injury, once more began to read.
it was, at length, fully fifteen minutes beyond the time appointed for the yacht to leave.
suddenly tom sat bolt upright. he seemed as startled as though some one had clapped him unexpectedly on the shoulder.
could it be possible?
he drew a long, deep breath. a dreadful suspicion had entered his head. he tried to cast it off with scorn; but, somehow, the thought would not down. were the boys testing his courage? had they actually gone away with victor on the motor yacht? did the crowd wish to find out how he stood in relation to the “flopper” class? and yet it wasn’t like honest, straightforward bob somers to act in such a way.
the precious book of anatomy fell unheeded[92] to the floor, as tom restlessly paced up and down, while conflicting ideas chased each other swiftly through his brain.
“i don’t—can’t believe it,” he said, aloud. “of course not! what a silly idiot i am. the crowd’ll be here soon. mustn’t let ’em think they had me aeroplaning.” he smiled grimly as an idea struck him. “i’ll just sprint down to the wharf and settle it.”
so tom, with unseemly haste, again dashed down-stairs, and did almost “sprint” through the streets in the direction of the river. it was quite a long distance, too, but probably few had ever covered it in so short a time.
the moment his eyes rested on the familiar pilings at which captain bunderley’s motor yacht was usually moored he stopped short and uttered a low whistle. his suspicions were not without foundation, after all.
the “fearless” had gone.
yes, the “fearless” had gone! there could be no doubt about it. tom clifton felt a strange variety of emotions assail him. he eagerly scanned the river, half expecting to see the yacht somewhere on its surface. but his search was in vain.
[93]“well, well! victor must have actually managed to pull off that trick,” he growled.
smarting with indignation, the lad covered the space between him and the end of the wharf in record time.
a small, stout man sitting on a barrel looked up as he approached.
“hey,” began tom, “were you here this morning when that motor yacht left?”
the stout man, with a whimsical light in his eye, was gazing hard into the boy’s face.
“yer hat is a great distance up from the ground, me lad,” he remarked, casually. “kin ye see acrost to the lake from there?”
“oh, cut it out. i’m no lighthouse!” snapped tom, forgetting politeness in his ruffled state of mind. “were you——”
the stout man stopped him.
“i were, for sure,” he answered, emphatically.
“see any boys on board?”
“i did—sure ag’in.”
“been gone long?”
“yes, a right smart spell. runned off without yer, did they, mate? some people is mean enough for anythin’.”
[94]tom was too angry and disturbed to make any reply to this observation.
“my, but wouldn’t i like to punch that little victor,” he thought. “i didn’t think it of bob somers; or dave, either. looks as though the whole bunch is trying to have a big joke at my expense. hey?”
the little man was speaking again.
“ye oughter be real glad ye weren’t took along, mate,” he remarked, pleasantly. “ye look kinder peart now; but a right smart spell o’ tossin’ about out there ’ud take that out o’ you. i always says, give me seasoned water every time.”
“seasoned water?” queried tom.
“sure, mate; some as has plenty o’ salt in it. i’ve sailed on both kinds, an’ i know.”
“then i suppose the lake makes you feel a bit peppery at times, eh?” grunted tom, as he strode rapidly away.
“well, of all things!” he exclaimed, hotly, when out of hearing distance. “isn’t this the limit! a dandy trip bungled at the very start; and all on account of that little spoiled kid. by george, they certainly have put it up to me to take our car to milwaukee all[95] alone. think i’ll ‘flop,’ eh, as victor calls it? well, i rather guess not!”
tom looked very savage indeed; his fists were tightly clenched, and he glared about him in a way that might have attracted attention had any observers been near.
the cool gusts of wind which continually swept against the lad, together with the busy scenes along the wharves, finally began to calm his belligerent spirit. the first effect of the unpleasant situation wearing off left him with a dogged feeling of determination to show his mettle.
presently tom sat down on an old box, from which position he had a good view of the river. but another period of waiting brought no result, and he rose to his feet more disgusted than ever.
his mind had been busily engaged. he did not intend to let any one, even his best friends, play jokes on him.
“if the bunch doesn’t turn up mighty fast,” he reflected, “i’ll have a little fun in that car all by my lonesome. no doubt now—it’s milwaukee for mine.”
the boys didn’t turn up. whereupon tom,[96] deciding that he had, with sherlock holmes intelligence, made the proper deductions, went back to the hotel. there he gathered together the few articles of luggage which the crowd carried with them and paid their bill.
“i’ll be back soon with the car,” he explained, briefly, to the clerk.
at the garage the proprietor was mildly surprised to see only the very tall lad returning to take charge of the motor car, but, concluding that it was none of his affair, he made no comments.
the machine seemed to have increased marvelously in size since tom had last seen it. in the midst of other vehicles it loomed up in a positively gigantic fashion. how easily he could picture in his mind dave brandon lolling in comfort on the rear seat. what a strange, dismal silence hovered over the big car now! a peculiar sense of loneliness stole over him. he stood, irresolute. then, in an instant, and with a shrug of his shoulders, he climbed up to the chauffeur’s seat.
“yes, suh, i done filled the tank with gasoline,” explained a smiling colored lad, in[97] answer to his query. “dar ain’t nuthin’ to be did. whar’s ye goin’, suh, if i might ask?”
“to milwaukee,” answered tom.
“sho, dat am sartingly a fine trip. yes, suh, de way am clear.”
tom clifton’s hand trembled a little as he laid it on the steering wheel. without the presence of the others to strengthen his courage the task of driving the car through the city streets assumed more formidable proportions than he liked. but, giving the button on the dash a push, he muttered, determinedly:
“i’ll play the game right to the end.”
in another instant the echoes of the engine’s rapid pulsation thundered through the garage. a cloud of gasoline vapor swirled aloft, to lose itself among the rafters. the clutch was thrown on.
“so-long, benjamin!”
“so-long, mistah! i done hopes yo hab a bully trip.”
the big touring car slid easily past the doorway; a series of warning blasts from the horn sounded, and tom was on the street.
once outside, with the machine responding to his slightest touch, he soon began to feel a[98] little easier in mind. yet how empty the car seemed! how he missed the cheery voices and merry laughter of his companions! why had they allowed themselves to be so influenced by victor—why?
and then the thought that he had acted too impulsively flashed through tom’s mind.
“suppose i should find ’em at the hotel? they’d have a jolly good laugh at my expense, after all,” he reflected.
but, on this point, he need not have disturbed himself. neither victor nor any of the others was at the hotel when the car stopped before the entrance.
“those chaps even had the confounded cheek to leave their traps for me to look after,” grumbled tom, as the boy in bright brass buttons assisted him in stowing away the luggage. “well, all right. the first inning of the game’s been played. here’s the beginning of the second.”
once more the touring car was in motion. with all the responsibility resting on his shoulders, the lad experienced new and novel sensations—and most of them were not altogether pleasant. he sadly missed bob somers’[99] words of caution and advice. approaching the public square, with numerous vehicles and pedestrians on all sides, he became decidedly nervous.
just as the car rolled toward the principal crossing, around the corner of which tom decided to turn, a tall man who had been reading a newspaper by the curb suddenly stepped out into the street.
with a cry, tom reached over and sounded the horn sharply. he took his foot off the clutch and threw on the break. it was an instant of intense satisfaction to him—and, perhaps, some surprise, when the touring car abruptly stopped.
and, meanwhile, a flying leap had taken the man to safety.
at the moment of landing, fully a yard from the starting point, his temper took effect all at once.
“hey there, what’s the matter? ain’t you got no eyes?” he demanded, in amazingly gruff tones.
“well, that’s a good one!” cried tom, though his voice was somewhat shaky. “how—how—about yourself?”
[100]“don’t pass out any flip talk, now. i won’t stand for it.”
“better wait until i do.”
the angry citizen paused, took a good look at the tall chauffeur, then:
“why, you ain’t nothin’ but a kid!” he exclaimed.
tom’s face flushed.
“i’m old enough to know what i’m doing,” he answered, witheringly.
“you are, hey? there ought to be a law passed against letting fellers what ain’t cut their eye teeth yet drive regular whaleback ships like that through the streets. what are you doing in there, anyway, boy?”
“if you throw any more words in this direction you may find out.”
“got a license for knocking folks down, have you?”
a small crowd had already gathered, and seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the situation.
“don’t let ’im faze you, chaufyer,” screeched a very small lad.
tom, making a strong effort to appear cool[101] and dignified, leaned forward. his eye caught the tall man’s.
“i’d like to say this,” he roared: “if the city intended the middle of the street to be used as a place for reading newspapers they’d have put a few benches and chairs along it.”
chuckles of mirth came from the audience.
“ha, ha! you’ve got ’im goin’,” piped a very youthful citizen.
“goin’! he’s the one that will be goin’!” roared the man whose life had been saved. “where’s there a cop? where’s that officer i saw on the corner a few moments ago?”
“if he hadn’t gone, too,” cried tom, looking around, “he’d pinch you for disorderly conduct and blocking the highway. get out of the road. this machine is going to buzz like a sawmill.”
an elderly lady, who disliked everybody that rode in an automobile, declared to a companion that tom was the most brazen-looking young scamp she had ever seen; and, the fact is, he did not at that moment appear very angelic.
snorting indignantly, and still somewhat unnerved, tom threw in the clutch.
[102]he had expected to spend some time scouting around in the center of the city. but this experience caused him to decide that the more quiet streets would do just as well.
“that chap was certainly a grouch,” he murmured, still highly indignant. “but i guess my remark about the benches squelched him.”
a number of blocks were passed, each instant bringing him nearer to the wharf where the “fearless” had been moored.
“bet, by this time, the yacht is back,” he murmured, hopefully. “i’ll never let on how the boys had me going, both in and out of the car.”
the river soon swept into view. tom, peering eagerly ahead, felt his spirits sink again. a number of boats dotted the gray, gloomy-looking surface, but the motor yacht “fearless” was not among the number.
“well, well! i might have known i was right.”
the car came to a full stop. tom sat for many minutes absorbed in deep reflection. then a grim smile played across his features.
“i’ll show ’em how well i can play the[103] game,” he cried once more to the empty air. his hand gripped the horn bulb. a resounding blast instantly followed. “there goes the signal for the third inning. i’ll make a home run to milwaukee, and bob up smiling.”
