The Rover Boys Down East: or, The Struggle for the Stanhope Fortune

“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.