Stratemeyer Edward
Dave Porter's Return to School. Winning the Medal of Honor

CHAPTER X
ALL ON ACCOUNT OF A KITE

"That's the time Poole caught it," remarked Phil, after the excitement had come to an end.

"That's right," answered Dave. "I am glad it was not your kite, Phil."

"So am I."

"In one way, it was Nat's own fault," said Roger, who was near. "Half a dozen told him to balance the kite better, but he wouldn't listen."

Down on the river some of the students had attached their kites to boats and were having races. But soon the wind changed and the kites veered around to another point of the compass and the races had to be abandoned.

Phil's kite was well up and it was all he and Dave could do to manage it. Roger and Ben grew somewhat tired of the sport presently and brought down their kite and wound up the string. Then Phil and Dave began to lower the big kite.

"The wind is freshening," observed Dave. "Gracious! how this big kite does tug!"

He could scarcely hold it as Phil wound up the cord. Then came another blast of air and Dave fell backward with the broken string in his hand, while the big kite went soaring away in the direction of Oakdale.

"There goes the kite!"

"Stop it! stop it!" yelled Phil, forgetting himself in his excitement.

"How?" asked Dave, dryly, as he arose from the grass.

"I don't want to lose that fine kite," went on Phil, soberly. "Why, it cost me over three dollars to make it. It was part silk!"

"Let us go after it," said Dave. "I don't think it will sail so very far."

Roger's kite was placed in the care of Buster Beggs and Shadow Hamilton, and off went the senator's son, Dave, and Phil after the runaway kite. The course was almost straight for Oakdale and presently they saw the silken affair settle in the direction of Mike Marcy's orchard.

"It is going down at Marcy's!" cried Roger.

"I hope it doesn't get torn in the trees," returned Phil, who was doubly proud of the kite because he had made it alone and by his own plan.

"Maybe Marcy won't give it to us," said Dave. "Remember, he doesn't like us students."

"Yes, and remember, too, that he keeps dogs," added Roger.

Mike Marcy was an Irish-American farmer who had lived in that section for many years. He was what is termed a "close-fisted man," and one who had but little to do with the outside world. He was supposed to be rich, although he usually put on an air of poverty whenever anybody called upon him. His farm was of fair size, and contained a good stone house, a barn, and several other out-buildings. He had a big orchard, and to keep off thieves kept half a dozen dogs, all of them more or less savage creatures.

The three students approached the orchard from the rear and after looking around located the silken kite in the limbs of an apple tree. The tree was bare of fruit, but close at hand were other trees loaded with golden russets.

"Wonder if we can get that kite without being seen," mused Phil, as he gazed longingly at his property, dangling downward by its gorgeous tail of fancy ribbons.

"I don't see anybody around," answered Dave. "And I don't hear any of his dogs either."

"You want to go slow," cautioned the senator's son. "He may be around, watching us on the sly."

"Perhaps we had better go around to the road and ask for the kite," said Dave.

"No, he won't give it to us," answered Phil. "He is too mean – I know him. I'd rather try to get it on the sly."

The wind was still blowing and it was growing dark. They took another careful look around and then leaped the fence of the orchard. Soon they were at the tree from which the kite dangled, and Phil climbed up.

"Catch it!" he called, as he loosened the tail, but just then the wind caught the kite and carried it to the other side of the orchard.

"There it goes!" cried Dave, and made a run after the object. The others followed, and presently they had the kite in their possession. In running through the orchard Dave caught his foot on a tree root and fell headlong but did not hurt himself.

With the kite in their possession the three students left the orchard as quickly as they had entered it. It was now so late that they were afraid they could not get back to Oak Hall in time for supper and so set off at a brisk pace. But suddenly Dave came to a stop.

"I declare, my watch is gone!" he cried.

"Your watch!" asked his chums, in concert.

"Yes, I must have dropped it when I stumbled in the orchard."

"Oh, Dave, that's too bad!" cried Roger.

"I'll have to go back for it," went on Dave. "It's the new watch my uncle gave me."

"Shall we go back with you?" asked Phil.

"No, there is no use of all three of us being late. You can tell Mr. Dale I lost my watch and stopped to hunt for it."

In another moment Dave had turned back and Phil and the senator's son continued on their way to Oak Hall. Dave started on a run, and it did not take him long to reach the orchard once more. Down under the trees it was very dark and he had to feel around for the watch. But he had dropped it just where he thought, and soon had it in his possession again.

"Now I had better hump myself and get back," he murmured, and started for the fence once more. Scarcely had he gone four steps when a form loomed up before him and he found himself in the strong clutch of Mike Marcy.

"Caught ye, have I?" said the farmer, in a cold, hard voice.

"How do you do, Mr. Marcy," replied Dave, as coolly as he could.

"How do ye do, is it?" roared the farmer. "I'll fix ye, ye villain!" And he started to shake Dave with great violence. He was a strong man and one given to sudden passion.

"Stop!" cried the youth, trying to squirm away. "Stop! What are you doing this for? I have done nothing wrong."

"Then stealin' apples ain't wrong, eh? And stonin' my dogs ain't wrong, eh? And stealin' a chicken, eh?"

"I am not stealing apples, and the only time I stoned one of your dogs was when he ran after me as I was passing on the road. I didn't propose to be bitten."

"Don't tell me, ye young vagabond! I know you boys – a pretty crowd ye be, all o' ye! I'll have the law on ye!" And once again Mike Marcy shook poor Dave.

"What is it, Mike?" came from out of the gloom, and a woman appeared. She was the farmer's wife and as hard-hearted as her husband.

"I've got one o' them schoolboys," answered the man. "Caught him prowlin' around the orchard."

"See here, I have done no wrong, I tell you, and I want you to treat me decently," said Dave. "We came over awhile ago for a kite, that sailed into one of your trees. After we got the kite I discovered that I had lost my watch and I came back for it."

"A fine story indade," muttered Mike Marcy. "But it's not me that is going to believe that same. I've caught ye and I am going to make an example of ye!"

"Yes, Mike, don't let him go," put in Mrs. Marcy.

"You haven't any right to detain me," said Dave. "I have told you the exact truth."

"I don't believe it, and until ye can prove the tale ye'll stay here."

With this Mike Marcy took a firmer hold of Dave's collar than ever and began to drag him through the orchard towards the farmhouse.

Dave struggled, but the strong farmer was too much for him and he was compelled to go along. The farmer's wife came behind the pair, armed with a mop she had picked up at the back door.

"What are you going to do with me?" asked the youth, after a minute of silence.

"Ye'll soon see," answered the farmer.

They soon reached the barnyard attached to the farm. Here, to one side, was a smokehouse, built of stone, with a heavy door of wood and sheet-iron. The small building was open and empty.

"I'll put ye in there for a while and see how ye like it," said Mike Marcy, and shoved Dave towards the smokehouse.

"See here, Mr. Marcy, you are not treating me fairly. You have no right to make me a prisoner."

"Sure and I'll take the right. I have suffered enough and I'm going to teach somebody a lesson," answered the farmer, grimly.

"When Dr. Clay hears of this he'll make trouble for you."

"Will he? Not much, I'm after thinkin'. Ye had no right to be trespassin' on my land. The signs are up, and I take it ye can read."

"I simply came over to get something that belonged to me."

"Well, ye'll stay here for a while, an' that is all there is to it," returned Mike Marcy, and without further ceremony he thrust Dave into the smokehouse. The youth began to struggle but could not get away, and once inside, the door was banged shut in his face. Then the bolt was secured with a stout iron pin, and he found himself a prisoner in pitch darkness.

"I'll be back sooner or later," cried Mike Marcy, in a satisfied tone. "So make yourself comfortable, me laddibuck!" And then he walked away, followed by his wife, and Dave was left to himself.

It was a galling position to be in and Dave resented it thoroughly. Yet what to do he did not know. He could not see a thing and on all sides of him were the thick stone walls of the building, the only break being the iron-covered door, which was practically as solid as the walls themselves. Under his feet the ground was as hard as stone. Everything was covered with a thick soot, so that he scarcely dared to put out a hand for fear of becoming like a negro.

"Here's a fine mess truly!" he murmured to himself, after several minutes had passed.

He listened, but not a sound broke the stillness. He wondered how it happened that Mike Marcy's dogs were not around, not knowing that the farmer had lost one through a peculiar sickness and had taken the others away to a dog doctor for special treatment.

A quarter of an hour passed. The time was unusually long to Dave, and now, at the risk of getting black, he began to feel around the smokehouse, looking for some means of escaping from his prison. From over his head dangled an iron chain, used for smoking purposes, and he climbed this, reaching a crossbar above. From the crossbar he could touch the roof, which proved to be of heavy planking, well joined together.

"If I could only knock off one of those planks I might get out," he reasoned, and began to feel of one plank after another, trying to determine which would offer the least resistance to his efforts.

Dave had just discovered a plank which seemed to be a little looser than the others when a sound outside broke upon his ears. Thinking that Mike Marcy was coming back, he dropped to the flooring of the smokehouse.

The sounds came closer and presently he heard two persons come to a halt close to the smokehouse door. By their voices they were evidently men, but neither was the owner of the place.

Wondering what this new arrival meant Dave remained quiet and listened intently. For several seconds he could not make out what was being said. Then he heard words which filled him with astonishment and alarm.

CHAPTER XI
AT THE WIDOW FAIRCHILD'S HOUSE

"Are you dead certain the money is in the house?" were the first words that Dave heard distinctly. They came in rather a hoarse voice.

"Yes, I saw Mrs. Fairchild draw the money from the bank. She put it in a black bag and started straight for her home." The reply came in a voice that was also hoarse, almost guttural.

"It would certainly be a dandy haul."

"Just what I've said all along."

"But the risk. If that hired man sleeps in the house – "

"I don't think he does. The widow don't like men folks around. I heard that from one of the neighbors, the day I went to price some chickens."

"Well, we might go over to her place and take a look around," came after a pause, and then followed some conversation that Dave could not catch. A few minutes later the two men walked away, and the youth heard no more of them.

Dave was amazed and with good reason. If he understood the situation at all the two men intended to rob the house of a widow who lived about half a mile up the road. They had seen her draw some money from a bank somewhere and intended to take the amount from her.

"They must be the very chaps who robbed Mr. Lapham and also the place in Oakdale," he thought. "I must get out and do what I can to outwit them!"

In feverish haste he climbed the chain again and pushed on the plank of the roof. By hard work he managed to loosen one end, but the other end seemed to be tight and refused to budge.

"If I only had something to pry it off with," he mused, but could find nothing. Then, almost in desperation, he dropped to the ground again and began to pound on the door, at the same time shouting at the top of his lungs.

For a good five minutes this brought forth no response, but presently Mike Marcy came forth from the farmhouse, lantern in hand, and stalked over to his barn. When he came out he carried a long rawhide whip in his hand.

"Say, boy, quit that noise, or I'll tan ye well!" he cried, wrathfully, as he came up to the smokehouse and set the lantern on the ground.

"Mr. Marcy, is that you?" queried Dave, quickly.

"Yes, 'tis, and I want ye to stop that racket."

"Let me out at once – it is very important," went on Dave.

"Important, is it?" sneered the Irish-American farmer. "'Tis more important ye stop that noise, so it is!"

"Mr. Marcy, listen to me," said Dave. "I have something very important to tell you. If you won't listen there will be big trouble. You must let me out, and both of us must catch two burglars."

"Sure, and what is the lad talkin' about?" exclaimed the farmer.

"I am telling you the truth. Let me out instantly."

"'Tis a trick, I'm after thinkin' – "

"No, sir, I give you my word of honor it is not. Let me out and I will explain. Please hurry up."

Dave's earnestness at last impressed the farmer to the extent that he opened the door cautiously for the space of a foot. As the youth came forth the man caught him by the arm.

"Now don't try to run, or 'twill be the worse for ye!"

"Mr. Marcy, listen!" cried Dave. "Only a short while ago two men were here. They stopped close to the smokehouse to talk. They spoke of the Widow Fairchild having money in her house which she had just gotten from the bank. They talked of robbing her, and they went off to do the job."

The farmer listened and his jaw dropped slightly.

"Is it a fairy story ye are after tellin'?"

"No, sir, it is the absolute truth. I think they were the same chaps who robbed Mr. Lapham and robbed that house in Oakdale. They seem to be doing their best to loot this whole neighborhood."

"They were here?" faltered Mike Marcy. At last he began to believe Dave.

"Yes, sir, not over quarter of an hour ago."

"Did they speak of robbing my place?" went on the Irish-American farmer suspiciously.

"No, sir, I am sure they started directly for Mrs. Fairchild's place."

"And ye want me to go with ye and catch them?"

"Isn't it our duty to catch them if we can?"

"Sure. But can we do it alone?"

"We can call up somebody else on the way."

"So we can. Well, I'll go – but first I'll take a look around my own place," added Mike Marcy.

He took his lantern and walked around the house and then told his wife of Dave's discovery. Mrs. Marcy began to tremble as she listened, and she shook her head when her husband said he proposed to go after the robbers.

"It is not meself is going to stay here all alone, wid robbers floatin' around in the dark," said Mrs. Marcy. "Let the boy call up the constable, or somebody else."

"It will take too long," said Dave, impatiently. "Even now it may be too late."

"Ye'll be safe enough with the doors and windows locked," said Mike Marcy. "Ye can use the shotgun if they come back. I'll take the pistol."

He was a man used to having his own way, and soon he set off with his pistol in his pocket and a good-sized club in his hand. Dave armed himself with another club, and set a good stiff pace, once they were on the road.

"We can stop at Brown's house and call him up," said Mike Marcy. He referred to Farmer Brown, who occupied a house directly on the road they were traveling. Reaching the place they knocked loudly on the door and presently the owner stuck his head out of an upper window.

"What's wanted?"

"Come down here," shouted Mike Marcy. "We want ye to help capture two robbers."

"Two robbers?" said Farmer Brown.

"Mercy sakes alive!" burst out the farmer's wife. "Are robbers around? We'll all be murdered in our beds!"

"They ain't here – they be over to the Widow Fairchild's," answered Mike Marcy. "Come on. Is Bill around?"

"Yes, here I am," said the farmer's son, from another window. "I'll be down in a minit, with my gun."

There was a short argument after this, but in the end Farmer Brown and his son Bill, a tall, wiry youth of nineteen, agreed to accompany Mike Marcy and Dave. Mrs. Fairchild's home was less than a quarter of a mile away, and to cut off a bend of the highway they took to an open field which came to an end at the edge of the widow's orchard.

"There is the house," whispered Mike Marcy, at last. "Better go slow now."

"Yes, we don't want them to get away," answered Dave.

"Let us spread out around the house," advised Farmer Brown. "The first one to spot the rascals can give the alarm."

So it was agreed, and while Dave went to the rear of the dwelling the others passed to the front and sides. The place was pitch dark on the inside and lit up only by the light of the stars from without.

Dave's heart was beating rather rapidly, for there was no telling when he would find himself face to face with the two robbers, and he realized that they must be desperate characters. He clutched the club tightly, resolved to do his best, should it come to a hand-to-hand encounter.

Several minutes passed and slowly the four outside walked completely around the building. Only one window was open, that to the dining room.

"See anybody?" whispered Mike Marcy, coming up to Dave.

"No."

"Sure ye didn't make any mistake?"

"I didn't see a soul. Maybe they haven't come up yet."

"That is so."

"We can wait a while and see," suggested Bill Brown. "If we wake the widder we may scare 'em off."

They waited after that for another spell, but nobody appeared, nor did they hear any sound out of the ordinary. Then it was resolved to arouse Mrs. Fairchild and wait in the house for the coming of the robbers.

"That is, if they are coming," said Farmer Brown. "Maybe the boy made a mistake."

"I am certain I made no mistake," answered Dave, positively. "But they may have changed their plans."

"Humph!" muttered Mike Marcy. "If it's a trick – But we'll talk that over later."

The door had an old-fashioned knocker, and this Farmer Brown used lightly at first and then with vigor. To the surprise of all in the party nobody answered the summons.

"The widder must be away!" cried Farmer Brown. "Funny, – she was home at sundown. Where would she go after dark?"

"Perhaps she's been murdered," suggested Bill.

"Murdered!" exclaimed the others, and Dave's blood seemed to run cold.

"A regular robber wouldn't stop at murder, if he was caught in the act," said the farmer.

"Maybe we ought to break in the door."

"Or git in through the window," suggested Mike Marcy.

While they were deliberating they heard the sounds of carriage wheels on the road. The turnout was coming along at smart speed and all ran towards the road to see who was driving. To their surprise they saw the Widow Fairchild alight, followed by a farmer named Burr and a hired man called Sandy.

"How do ye do, widder!" called out Farmer Brown. "Been away long?"

"Why, what does this mean?" stammered Mrs. Fairchild, who was a woman of forty and weighed at least two hundred pounds. She often went out to do nursing throughout the Oakdale district.

"We came here lookin' fer robbers," explained Mike Marcy. "We thought they was comin' to visit you."

"By gum!" came from the farmer named Burr. "Reckon you are right, Mrs. Fairchild."

"Right? How?" asked Dave, quickly.

"I'll tell you," answered the widow. "About an hour ago somebody knocked on the door. I opened the window upstairs and asked what was wanted. A man was there muffled up in an overcoat. Says he, 'Is that you, Mrs. Fairchild?' 'Yes,' says I. 'Well,' says he, 'you're wanted over to Mrs. Burr's house right away. The baby is dying. I've got to go for a doctor,' says he, and runs away. I didn't hardly know what to do, but I hurried into my clothes and locked up and almost run to Mr. Burr's place. When I got there they was all to bed and the baby as healthy as ever. Then I got suspicious, for I've got four hundred dollars in the house that I got out of the bank at Rayfield to pay off on that new house I'm building in Oakdale. Mr. Burr hitched up at once and brought me over. So you know about the fellow, do you?"

"I know two men started for this place to rob your house," said Dave.

"Better go in and see if the money is safe," suggested Farmer Brown. "Did you leave that window open?" he added.

"Window open? No indeed!" shrieked Mrs. Fairchild, and without further ceremony she brought forth her key and opened the front door. Then she lit the lamp and began to make a search of the premises.

"They have been in here!" she wailed. "See how everything is upset!" She ran to a china closet. "Oh, dear, look at the dishes! Some of 'em broken! Oh!" She gave a wild scream. "The money is gone! They have robbed me of the four hundred dollars!"