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.