CHAPTER VII

PAYING AN OLD DEBT

As Bobby's watch had been the only one in the party, the boys had not been able to keep track of the time during the latter part of their journey, and they were a little fearful that they might be late for their train.

They were relieved therefore to learn they were in plenty of time. The train was not regularly due for half an hour, and owing to the snowstorm it would probably be an hour or more behind time.

The station agent at Roseville, as the town was named, had charge of the telegraph office as well. He was a kindly man and listened with the greatest sympathy to the boys' story. His indignation at the robbers was hot, and he promised to put the constable on their trail at once.

"It's a beastly outrage," he stormed. "That old deserted shack has been too handy for fellows of that kind. They make it a regular hang-out. We'll clean out the gang and burn the place to the ground. I've got to stay here now until after the train leaves, but as soon as it's gone, I'll get busy."

He assured them that he would send on the telegram to be paid for at the other end, and the boys, possessing themselves of some blanks, withdrew to a quiet corner to prepare the message.

It proved to be a matter requiring some thought, and several blanks were cast aside before it suited them.

"You see," said Bobby, as he sat frowning over his stub of a pencil, "I don't want to scare the folks to death by telling them we've been robbed. They'd think that perhaps we'd been hurt besides and were keeping it quiet so as not to worry 'em. We can write 'em a letter afterward and tell 'em all about it."

The final outcome of their combined efforts stated the matter with sufficient clearness:

Lost money and tickets. All safe and sound. Please telegraph twenty dollars to me, care station agent, Roseville. Will explain in letter.

Bobby.

This suited them all, though Fred suggested that they might save by cutting out the "please." He was voted down however, and the telegram was handed through the office window and put on the wire at once.

This being attended to, there was nothing to do but to wait. Then a new worry assailed them.

"How long do you think it will be before we can get an answer?" asked Mouser.

"Not very long," replied Bobby confidently.

"The message must be in Clinton this very minute," chimed in Pee Wee.

"Yes, but that's the least part of it," remarked Fred. "It will have to be carried up to your house from the station and I've heard my father say that Claxton isn't as quick about those things as he ought to be. Sometimes he gets Bailey to deliver for him, and you know what an old slow-poke he is."

"And even when it gets to the house your father may be downtown and your mother may be out sleigh riding or visiting or something," observed Mouser gloomily.

"And then too, it will take some time for your father to get down to the telegraph office and send the money," was Pee Wee's contribution.

"Oh, stop your croaking, you fellows," cried Bobby. "I'm sure everything will be all right." But, just the same, their doleful suggestions made him a little uneasy, and he fidgeted about as he watched the hands of the station clock.

"There's another thing," observed Mouser, returning to the charge. "Suppose now--just suppose--that the money doesn't get to us before the train starts, what are we going to do?"

"Then we'll be stuck," admitted Bobby. "And we'll have to do a whole lot more telegraphing to Rockledge telling them that we can't get there till to-morrow. But even if the money is late, it's sure to come. We can pay for our meals and lodging over night and won't have to go to the poorhouse."

"Lucky we got such a dandy feed at Mrs. Wilson's anyway," remarked Pee Wee. "That will keep us going until the money comes."

"It was mighty good of her to give us such a meal and not charge a cent for it," said Mouser.

"Free meals for five hungry boys," murmured Fred.

"Five!" exclaimed Pee Wee in surprise. "Why, there were only four of us."

"Yes," replied Fred, "but you counted for two."

Pee Wee made a rush toward him, but Fred dodged adroitly.

Just then, Mouser, who was looking out of the station window, gave a sudden exclamation.

"Look here, fellows," he cried. "See who's coming!"

They crowded together, looking over his shoulder.

"Why, it's Tommy Stone!" ejaculated Bobby.

"He must be going back to Belden School," added Fred.

"And that's his father with him, I guess," put in Pee Wee.

Tommy Stone was a boy who had played quite a part in the lives of Bobby and Fred a few months before. He had run away from home to go out West to "fight Indians." He had taken his father's pocketbook with him, intending to use only enough to pay his fare and send the rest back.

Unluckily for the young Indian fighter--or rather luckily, as it turned out--he lost the pocketbook out of the car window. Bobby and Fred were standing by the side of the track as the train went thundering past, and the wallet fell almost at their feet. They picked it up and were wildly excited when they found that it contained no less than four hundred dollars.

The boys had dreams of unlimited ice-cream and soda water as the result of their find. Still they and their parents made earnest effort to find the owner, but as the days passed by and no claimant appeared it looked as though the money would become the boys' property.

Late in the fall, Bobby and Fred rescued a small boy from the clutches of some larger boys who were amusing themselves by tormenting him. The boy turned out to be Tommy Stone. He had been brought back after his runaway and sent to Belden School, which was not far from Rockledge. Tommy had heard that the boys had found a pocketbook and suspected that it was the one that he had lost. He made a clean breast of it, and the money was restored to its rightful owner. Mr. Stone wanted to reward the boys handsomely, but their parents would not permit them to accept a money reward, and Mr. Stone compromised by sending them the material for a royal feast at Rockledge.

As for Tommy, he had an interview with his father, the nature of which can be guessed at by Tommy's statement afterward that he could not sit down for a week unless he had pillows under him.

"He doesn't look like an Indian killer," laughed Mouser.

"Not so that you could notice it," chuckled Pee Wee.

"I don't see any scalps at his belt," grinned Fred.

Tommy caught sight of the boys as he entered the station, and ran forward to meet them with exclamations of pleasure and surprise. Mr. Stone looked curiously at the group but said nothing, and went over to the agent's window to buy his son's ticket.

"What in the world are you fellows doing here?" cried Tommy.

"We're just as much surprised to see you as you are to see us," replied Bobby, with a smile.

"On your way to Belden?" inquired Fred.

"Yep," answered Tommy, making a wry face, "and I'm not any too glad, either. I've never liked that school. The big fellows are all the time taking it out on the little ones."

"You ought to get your father to let you come to Rockledge," suggested Bobby.

"Then you'd be going to a real school," remarked Fred, who felt to the full the traditional rivalry between Rockledge and its chief rival.

"Not but what we've got some bullies of our own," put in Pee Wee.

"Bill Bronson and Jack Jinks, for instance," observed Mouser.

"I'd like first rate to change," admitted Tommy, "and perhaps next year I can. But my father has all his arrangements made now, and I'll have to stick it out at Belden for the rest of this term."

"Is that your father over there?" asked Bobby.

"Yes."

"Looks as though he had a good right arm," said Fred slyly.

"I'll bet he's practiced with it out in the woodshed," put in Pee Wee.

"What's the price of strap oil, Tommy?" inquired Mouser.

Tommy winced a little at the chaffing. It was evidently a painful subject.

Bobby came to his rescue.

"Oh, cut it out, fellows," he remonstrated. "We all make mistakes sometimes."

Tommy flashed him a grateful look.

"Yes," he agreed. "But you can bet that I'm not going to make the same mistake twice."

"That's the way to talk," rejoined Bobby heartily.

Mr. Stone had completed his purchase and now strolled over to the group. He had never seen the boys before, as the return of the pocketbook had been made by Mr. Blake.

"Some young friends of yours, Tommy?" he asked, with a genial smile.

"Yes, sir," Tommy answered. "They go to Rockledge School, right on the other side of the lake from Belden."

He introduced the boys by name, and Mr. Stone pricked up his ears as he heard the names, "Blake" and "Martin."

"What!" he exclaimed. "Can this be the Bobby Blake and Fred Martin who found my pocketbook and sent it back to me?"

"That's who they are," replied Tommy, flushing.

Mr. Stone took the boys' hands in both of his and wrung them warmly.

"Well this is a bit of luck," he said heartily. "I can't tell you boys how glad I am to see you. I've often wanted to lay eyes on the boys who could find four hundred dollars and never rest till they got the money back to the owner."

"Oh, that was nothing," answered Bobby, who always felt embarrassed when any one praised him.

"It was the only thing to do," added Fred, his face getting almost as red as his hair.

"All the same, there are lots of boys who would never have said a word about it," persisted Mr. Stone. "I've always felt sorry that your folks wouldn't let me show my gratitude by making you boys a present of something that would have been worth while."

"You did give us the stuff for a dandy spread."

"Some spread that was too, fellows," put in Pee Wee. "I was in on that and it was just scrumptious."

"Trust Pee Wee to remember spreads if he never remembers anything else," laughed Mouser.

Mr. Stone's eyes twinkled as he took in Pee Wee's generous proportions.

"Well, I'm glad if you enjoyed it," he smiled. "But tell me now how you boys find yourselves here. I thought you traveled by the road that runs through Clinton."

"So we do," replied Bobby, and started to relate the occurrences of the morning.

"I see," said Mr. Stone, interrupting before Bobby had got very far into his story. "And then you found out you could get a train on this road and tramped over here. Well, you won't have long to wait now, for the train will be along in a few minutes."

"But that isn't all," put in Fred.

"No?" queried Mr. Stone. "What else is there?"

"We were robbed on the way," answered Fred.

Mr. Stone gasped and Tommy showed symptoms of great excitement. Robbed! It was almost as good as Indians.