CHAPTER V

LAST DAYS AT BOXWOOD

Mr. Slade glanced across the room at his friend Mr. Baker. The latter returned the look, and, had one observed carefully, he might have seen the shadow of a wink pass between the two men. Then Mr. Slade slowly, but with an evident air of firmness, shook his head.

“What is it?” asked his son.

“I’m sorry, Ned; but we can’t consider your proposition--not for an instant.”

“You mean you won’t let us go out to the ranch to try our luck at discovering the cattle rustlers?”

“That’s it, Son. This is a business proposition--not a vacation lark, as you seem to think.”

“I didn’t say that, Dad. I mean business--we all mean business. Don’t we?” and Ned appealed to his chums.

“Of course we do!” chimed in stout Bob. “Why can’t we go out there and trace the cattle thieves as well as a New York detective who wouldn’t know a prairie dog’s burrow from a dried water hole? Come on, Dad, say something!” and he appealed to his father who, so far, had done little talking. “Let us go out West. We can get to the bottom of the mystery as well as any one. That is, if there is a mystery.”

“Oh, there’s a mystery surely enough,” said Mr. Slade. “There’s no question of that. The rustlers haven’t left the semblance of a trail to follow, if we can believe Watson--and I have every confidence in him. But I wouldn’t, for a moment, think of letting you boys try your hand at this. Why, there’s danger in it! Those rustlers are unscrupulous scoundrels--they shoot first and ask questions afterward. You can’t take any chances with men like that!”

Jerry and Bob saw their chum Ned give himself a little shake. They had observed the same action on other occasions--notably when Ned was at bat in a tight place in a ball game, or when he knew he was going to be called on to take the pigskin in a rush through tackle and guard to make a much-needed touchdown. The same look Ned’s face wore at such times was on it now. He was girding himself for some fray--albeit a mental one.

“Just one moment, Dad,” he said in a quiet voice. “I agree with all you say about this being a man’s job, dangerous and calling for ingenuity. And I’m not going to urge this on you just for the sake of letting us have a little fun. We’ll get some fun out of it--I don’t mean that we won’t--but it isn’t going to be _all_ fun. I’m in earnest when I ask you to let us have a try at this.

“Now give me a few seconds more,” he quickly said, as he observed that his father was about to speak. “As I said, I know it’s a man’s job. But I ask you if we three aren’t equal to one man?”

He indicated by a sweeping gesture himself and his two chums.

“Well, yes, in general appearance, huskiness and ability to take care of yourselves under ordinary circumstances, I’d say you were any one man’s equal, if not more,” conceded Mr. Slade.

“Two and a half, easily,” came from Mr. Baker, who seemed to be enjoying the situation.

“All right, you admit that then,” and Ned seemed to be getting ready for an argument, as he often did in some of the college debates. “Now for point number one. Do you remember, Dad, and you, too, Mr. Baker, how we made out that time we took the trip on the Atlantic in our motor boat? You didn’t think, then, that we’d get what we went after; but we did.”

“Yes, you did,” admitted Mr. Baker, slowly.

“And after that,” went on Ned, like an attorney following up an argument in court, “we made an airship. You said, Dad, you didn’t believe it would go up; but it did.”

“Yes, and we got the fortune in it, too!” added Bob, who had remained silent as long as was possible for him.

“That’s right!” exclaimed Mr. Baker. “The boys certainly turned the trick that time.”

“And then,” went on Ned, relentlessly, “do you recall how we patrolled the border for Uncle Sam, and caught the Canadian smugglers, when nobody else could get a line on them?”

Mr. Slade scratched his head reflectively.

“Well, I do give you credit for that,” he said. “I never thought you’d do it. But----”

“Well, if we caught those smugglers in the air where there wasn’t much of a trail to follow, why can’t we get after the cattle rustlers?” demanded Ned. “This ought to be a whole lot easier.”

“He’s got you there!” laughed Mr. Baker.

The tide seemed to be turning in favor of the boys.

“Just what is it you propose to do?” asked Mr. Slade at length. This much was a concession.

“Go out there, size up the situation, find out what the facts are and then--_act_,” was Ned’s prompt answer.

“Hum!” said Mr. Slade, musingly. “I admit, Ned, to be perfectly fair, that you boys have certainly done well in the past. But this is a new proposition. You’ve got to deal with cunning and unscrupulous men.”

“It won’t be the first time,” observed Ned. “Look at the trouble we had with our Western mine. It isn’t as though we didn’t know something of men and their ways, Dad, and of the West.”

“No, that’s so. You have been out there. Oh! I don’t know. What do you say, Baker?” and Mr. Slade turned suddenly to his friend.

“I leave it all to you, Slade. You’re more interested than I am. As far as Bob is concerned, if you want to let the lads try their hand, I won’t stand in his way. The more experience he gets the better off in after life--if he takes care of himself.”

“Trying to put the whole burden on me,” said Mr. Slade with a laugh. “I don’t know whether I told you or not,” he went on to his son, “but Mr. Baker has some money invested in this ranch. So he is losing, as well as I, when the cattle rustlers are active.”

“Then let us go out there and stop ’em!” cried Ned. “I’m sure we can do it. You’d go, wouldn’t you, Jerry?”

“Well, I’d like to make the attempt,” said the tall lad quietly, “though I don’t know that we can guarantee results.”

“But we’ll make a big effort!” exclaimed Ned. “Come on, Dad, be nice and say we may go.”

Once more Mr. Slade seemed to be thinking seriously. Then he slowly said:

“All right. As long as friend Baker is willing I’ll give in, though I have a sort of feeling it won’t amount to anything--your going out there.”

“Just you wait and see!” laughed Ned. “We’ll show results before you know it. Say, fellows, this is great! And I have another idea.”

“He’s full of ’em to-day,” commented Jerry, smiling.

“We’ll make the trip in our big car,” went on Ned, not noticing the interruption. “We’ve gone on long tours in it before, and it’s a lot more fun than riding in stuffy trains. We’ll take the auto, and send our airship on ahead of us, to be ready when we get there.”

“Better reverse the process,” suggested Mr. Slade. “If this business is going to be done by you boys, the sooner the better. The longer you wait the more of my cattle will be stolen. Better go on out in your airship, and use your auto when you arrive at Square Z ranch. I don’t believe I can afford the time to have you make the trip in your big car. It would take three weeks at least.”

“All right, we’ll take the airship,” conceded Ned. He and his chums would have agreed to walk to the ranch for the exciting pleasure they expected to have after they arrived. “We’re in just as much of a hurry as you, Dad, to get at the bottom of this mystery.”

“Well, then,” went on Mr. Slade, “I’ll wire Watson you’re coming, and give you a letter of introduction to him. And now one last thing. This is strictly business! I’m letting you go a little against my better judgment, but maybe you’ll produce results. But, remember, business before pleasure, though if you can get any fun out of the trip, why, have it. Only take care of yourselves. Now you had better get your affairs in shape. You’ll soon be through at Boxwood, you say?”

“Yes, we could start West to-morrow if we had to, Dad,” replied Ned.

“Oh, I don’t know that there’s any such rush as that. But the sooner the better. Now we’ll try to be as comfortable here as we can. Run over this evening if you get time. Ouch! but my leg hurts!”

“How did the accident happen?” asked Jerry, as he and his chums prepared to leave for Boxwood Hall.

“Oh, I was driving the car, and I made too sharp a turn in my hurry, I suppose. The first I knew the machine had left the road and was rolling down the hill. We were tossed out and did some separate rolling on our own account, which, probably, saved our lives.”

The chums left, promising to return in the evening, and as the door closed on them Mr. Slade rang for the bell-boy and requested a telegraph blank.

“Going to wire Watson?” asked Mr. Baker.

“No, I’m going to wire Peck.”

“You mean the New York detective?”

“Yes. I think I’ll engage him.”

“But I thought you said you were going to let the boys try to solve the mystery. I was going to ask you, now that they are gone, if you think it wise. But----”

“Oh, well, I’m going to let them _try_,” said Mr. Slade with a smile. “At the same time I think it’s a good thing to have two strings to your bow. I’ll send the detective on after the boys to sort of watch over them, and he’ll be there on the ground in case they fail. But don’t tell the boys.”

“I won’t,” promised Mr. Baker with a smile, as the bell-boy took the dispatch Mr. Slade had written.

* * * * *

Out on the Boxwood campus bright fires gleamed. Around them circled chanting students casting into the flames various articles, from books, the study of which had ceased, to broken baseball bats, torn gloves and other tokens. The silence of the darkness was broken by more or less weird chants.

It was the closing of the term at Boxwood Hall and the time-honored observance of it was in full swing. It was several days after the accident to Mr. Slade and Mr. Baker. The latter was able to be out, and Mr. Slade had the promise that by the middle of the following week he could walk around on crutches.

Meanwhile, messages had gone to and come from Square Z ranch. The boys had started their preparations and then had entered with zest into the fun of the last days at Boxwood.

“Where are you fellows going to spend your vacation?” asked Tom Bacon of the three inseparables. “I’m getting up a yachting party, and I’d like first rate to have you join.”

“Sorry; but we’re going on a Western trip in our big aeroplane,” said Jerry.

“Hum! That sounds good. Well, some other time then. Look! There goes Prexy for the final,” and he pointed to the figure of Dr. Anderson Cole, head of Boxwood, who, as was the custom, came out to the senior fire to deliver the ancient Greek ode composed in honor of the departing class.

“Mustn’t miss that!” cried Ned, as he, Bob and Jerry started to run toward the biggest blaze. All the other lads paid final tribute to the graduates in this form.

Jerry felt someone tugging at his coat, and, glancing behind him, beheld Professor Snodgrass.

“Oh!” cried Jerry. “I beg your pardon,” though he did not know just why he should say that. “You’re out late, aren’t you?”

“No, Jerry. You see the bright fires attract so many moths and other insects, that I am making a fine collection. I have all my boxes full, and would you mind letting me take your cap to keep this big fellow in,” and he showed his half-closed hand in which something fluttered.

“Sure! take it and welcome,” said Jerry, snatching the cap off. “And say, Professor,” he called back, as he sped away, “we’re going on another Western trip. Maybe you’d like to go along.” But he did not stay to hear the answer.

There was more news awaiting the boys when they went to the hotel that night after the closing scenes at Boxwood Hall.

“I guess, after all, you needn’t be in such a rush to get out to Square Z ranch,” said Mr. Slade, as he read over again a telegram that had recently been received.

“Why not?” asked Ned. “Don’t tell me all your cattle have been run off by the rustlers and there aren’t any left!”

“No, it isn’t as bad as that,” replied his father. “But the gang made a raid on a place not far from mine, and they were caught--at least some were. So Watson thinks there won’t be much more stealing done at our ranch, at least for a time. The rustlers will keep under cover, I fancy. So if you boys still want to go----”

“Want to go!” cried Ned. “Of _course_ we want to go. We’ve made all our plans.”

“Well, you needn’t be in such a hurry,” went on his father. “You don’t need to take your airship. That is, I mean you won’t have to travel in it. Use the big car as you originally intended, and forward the aeroplane if you like.”

“That will be fine!” cried Jerry. “Not that going in the airship wouldn’t be sport, but we can enjoy it more if we don’t have to hurry. Then we’ll just reverse our plans, and make an auto tour of it. I believe we can do it inside of three weeks, though it may take a little longer.”