The Auto Boys' Mystery

Oddly enough Phil could see no smoke, at least nothing more than usual. The horizon in this region had always a hazy, smoky tinge, he had observed. Nevertheless he said he appreciated the suggestion and added that a few days more would see the breaking of camp at the lake, anyway. It was in his thoughts to ask what Anderson himself would do in the event of a forest fire. The tiny clearing, he thought, would be very little protection if the flames came near it.

But Way refrained from speaking of this. There was a matter of more importance about which he wished to inquire. "Do you know if there is anyone staying at the clubhouse at the lake, Mr. Anderson?" Thus did the boy frame his question. Receiving no answer but a shake of the head, Phil then continued. "Because," said he, "it would be right convenient if we could get permission to use the workbench in the automobile house. We'd do no harm to anything."

"I tank yo better let him bay," Nels answered, the least bit sharply. But more kindly he went on to say that he knew of no one being at the clubhouse now and that while the property was not his, the best advice he could offer was not to meddle with anything in the buildings or on the grounds.

Quite baffled by the Swede's apparent friendliness, yet certain that he was practicing deception, Phil returned to the machine. He told fully of the conversation with Anderson while the car purred forward.

Without exception the boys agreed with him that the talk of forest fires was like the denial of all knowledge of the clubhouse being occupied–simple deception, and nothing else. Clinching the soundness of this reasoning also, was the certain fact that the recent clubhouse tenant was now Anderson's guest.

"Grandall! He saw Murky or Murky saw him! He must have guessed that Murky has found out how he had been given the double cross, and was after him in dead earnest. Result: Grandall, in cahoots with Anderson for some bad business or other, packs his little satchel and goes to the Swede's to stay."

So did Dave MacLester reason the whole matter out. Chip Slider nodded his endorsement of these conclusions.

"They've got that stolen money, so they have!" he said. "We could have them arrested," he added, only the word he used was "pinched."

"And we will! Mark that!" said Phil Way.

Yet it often does happen that young gentlemen, and older ones, too, make assertions which, in the end, lead not where it was thought they would do at all.

CHAPTER V

"WHO SAID I WAS AFRAID?"

For Billy's information the developments of the afternoon were told and retold when all were again together in the camp. There was much discussion, too, concerning the advisability of causing the arrest of the man in the golfing cap and, possibly, Nels Anderson as well.

Meantime Billy had announced supper. It was a most tempting little meal with warm soda biscuits and honey as the chief items. The former Chef Worth had prepared during the afternoon and the latter he had caused to be brought from Fraley's in anticipation of his having the biscuits ready.

No doubt it was at the comfortable old farm home of Tyler Gleason that the four chums had developed a marked fondness for the delicacies mentioned, as readers of "The Auto Boys" will remember; but be that as it may, they enjoyed the change from the usual camp fare hugely.

As has been stated, there was no little discussion as to whether the Staretta officers should be asked to arrest and hold the stranger at Nels Anderson's until he could be positively identified as Grandall, the dishonest Longknives' treasurer. Phil Way declared firmly that this must be done.

"Personally, I don't see any sense in mixing up in an affair that doesn't really matter much to us!" exclaimed MacLester. He had been quiet for a long time. When he did speak it was with hard emphasis in his voice. "Murky and Grandall and the whole outfit that got away with the cash the road builders should have had–well! we don't usually have much to do with such people and no good will come of our beginning now," the boy added.

For a moment Chip Slider's face wore a look of anger. Perhaps he thought Dave's latter remark was aimed at him. But he said nothing.

Phil looked at MacLester in a significant manner, as if he would caution him against speaking so. Yet, "No use growling, Davy," were the words he said. Then he added that such a thing as duty must be taken into consideration; that one who has knowledge of a crime and conceals it is regarded by the law the same as if he actually shielded the wrong-doer.

"Gee whiz! I should say so," piped Paul Jones with shrill emphasis. "We'd be a pack of softies if we let Grandall and Murky, and the rest, get away, after all we know now!"

When Billy also joined heartily with Phil and Paul in urging that the Staretta officers be notified of the presence of both Grandall and Murky, MacLester no longer held back. How best to go about the matter, however, became immediately a problem.

Dave wanted to telegraph the police in Grandall's home town and learn if the man was really wanted by them. The hearsay evidence possessed by Slider, with regard to the stolen twenty thousand dollars, he declared, wasn't worth much until it could be backed up by more hard, cold facts than were thus far in hand.

"Suppose we were to go back to Staretta and have a talk with the sheriff or chief-of-police or constable–whatever they have there in the brass buttons line–tonight," proposed Billy. He was resting comfortably, his back against a tree, while Phil and Dave, with Slider's help, were washing the dishes.

Having had a quiet but busy afternoon young Mr. Worth was quite ready for an evening out.

"Sure pop!" Paul Jones exclaimed. "How do we know but that Grandall fellow is right on his way now to fly the coop?–and that's just what he is, most likely."

"Go ahead! I'll keep camp–Slider and I," put in MacLester quickly. Perhaps Dave was anxious to show Chip some friendly attention to make amends for the unpleasant words spoken a little while before. Perhaps Chip, as well, wished to show that he harbored no ill feeling. At any rate, "Yes, let him an' me do up the rest of them dishes an' the rest of you get started sooner," the lad proposed.

The thought that Slider's presence, to tell the officers in person what he knew of the stolen payroll money, would be highly desirable, did not occur even to Phil, usually quick to see such things. The plan was put into effect at once. With headlights throwing a long, white glow before them Billy, Phil and Paul said good-bye. Worth was at the wheel, one finger on the throttle, and at truly hazardous speed he sent the steady Thirty in and out among the trees that bordered the narrow trail.

"Goodness, Bill! What's the hurry?" ejaculated Phil, alone in the tonneau and getting more of a shaking up than he relished.

"Oh, he thinks there's so many trees around it won't hurt if he does tear out a few of the big, old ones that are all done growing anyway," Paul added grimly.

For it most generally is true that the driver is much less nervous than his passengers. A chuckle was Worth's only answer, but he did retard the throttle some and with less gas the machine at once slowed down.

The evening was close and warm as the previous night had been. The moon had not yet risen but, knowing every part of the road, Billy let the car pick up speed again directly he reached the broader, straighter path.

"We'll get this robbery business into the hands of the bluecoats; then home for us," called Phil from his seat behind. He would not willingly have admitted it, but he believed he smelled smoke. Also he was thinking of a clipping enclosed from home that morning telling of very destructive forest fires in other sections of this northern part of Michigan.

"I guess so," Worth answered. "It's a shame to punish a car on such roads as these. The lake is all right and being by ourselves is just what we wanted, but–"

The sentence was not finished. It was a way Billy had of leaving some things unsaid. In this case the road told all the driver had left unspoken. It was certainly "no boulevard," as young Mr. Jones had expressively remarked the first time the chums traversed it.

The dim glow of a kitchen lamp was the only sign of life the boys noticed at Nels Anderson's little house as they passed. They did not pause. There would be no occasion for them to visit the place again, they had decided, but whether correctly or not will in due time be apparent. Just now the main thing was to reach Staretta before everyone, Link Fraley in particular, would most likely be found in bed.

True it was that the little town fell asleep early. "And what's to stop it?" Paul Jones had once asked. Yet the lights were still burning in Fraley's store and at the post-office, which was in the little shoe store opposite, when the Thirty rumbled down the main street.

Mr. Lincoln Fraley, standing in the doorway, went down the steps to meet the boys as they drove up. Something had happened, he was quite sure, to bring them back so soon; for, not being familiar with the rapid traveling an automobile affords, he had no idea of the lads having been to Opal Lake and back since he last saw them.

"It's time to close up anyhow. Come take a ride," Billy invited.

Mr. Fraley said his father would attend to closing the store and, going in leisurely for his hat–lest he be suspected of a too lively interest in the prospect of an automobile ride if he hurried, perhaps–he presently seated himself in the tonneau beside Phil. As Billy drove slowly forward Way told of the discovery of Grandall at Anderson's. Briefly he stated the intention of causing the man's arrest and the capture of Murky, as well, which, he was certain, could be quite readily accomplished.

"Well now!" said Mr. Fraley in a musing tone, and, "if it don't beat me!" he slowly added in the same slow and reflective manner.

"But great land of belly aches!" Paul Jones chirped protestingly, "don't you see what we want? We want to know whom we must see–sheriff–judge–chiropodist–whoever it may be to get these chaps into jail and nail down those twenty thousand pieces of eight!"

"Don't be in a hurry," spoke Fraley with greater animation. "What I had in mind was that Nels Anderson surely is consorting with Grandall and probably has been all along. I'm the more sure of it because the Swede was in the store early this morning and bought a lot more stuff than we've ever sold him at one time before. I didn't wait on him and didn't know of it at the time you were here this afternoon. My father just happened to mention it at supper. Pretty plain now where Nels got the money and plain as daylight, as well, that he expects to have company for some time, which accounts for the stack of provisions he took back with him."

"All the more reason–" Phil began, meaning to continue, "that we should get in touch with the officers at once."

Link anticipated what he would have said. "No," he interrupted, "You don't need be in any hurry. And you do want to bring that Slider boy with you when you come to talk with the sheriff. Your evidence is mostly second-hand anyway. You don't want to give it to the county officers third-hand and fourth-hand when it ain't necessary. I'm watchin' the papers every day and I'll get some more news about Grandall's running away from the Grand Jury and his bank. Just you wait."

There was a lurking suspicion in Billy Worth's mind that Fraley wished to wait until he, himself, could communicate with the officers, but he said nothing. Phil and Paul were disappointed, too, that their friend would not advise immediate action.

The boys talked of those matters after they had left Link at his home,–the large, plain house with flower beds in front, near the store. But they had headed the car toward Opal Lake now and their conclusion was to continue homeward. They would do nothing until the next afternoon, at least, at which time, it had been agreed, they were to see Fraley again. They would find out, meanwhile, and be able to inform the officers, whether Mr. Murky was still "at home" at the rude shelter where Chip had seen him.

The light was yet burning at the humble Anderson dwelling as the friends passed on their homeward way. They thought they saw the figures of two men sitting just outside the door where a faint breath of air might now be stirring, but could not be sure. They were quite satisfied the guest of the family was still there and for the present this knowledge was sufficient.

As the headlights' glare swept the camp at Opal Lake Chip Slider was for a moment seen making frantic gestures. He seemed to wish the boys to hurry. Phil almost fell over the excited youth as he jumped down from a forward seat a few seconds later, for Chip had seized a front fender as if he would thereby help to halt the car more quickly.

"I can't help it," cried Slider with anxiety, "and I don't want to be scared over nothin'–but it's Dave! He went over the lake in the boat an' that's the last I seen him. It was somebody hollerin'–somebody hollerin' from t'other side!"

With real alarm the three friends heard the disconnected words of the frightened Chip. In a chorus they demanded to know all about the matter, their own language hardly more clear than Slider's. Phil was first to gain composure enough to call for quiet. Then he said: