CHAPTER III

THE CLAY-DIGGERS

There was silence among the three chums for several moments, and then Ned remarked:

“Well, you sure have been absent-minded, Jerry, though maybe it was justified. But it doesn’t seem to be so very serious--except, of course, we’re sorry your mother has lost any money.”

“That’s right,” agreed Bob. “And now, if that’s all that’s on your mind, Jerry, let’s go and----”

“Eat!” broke in Jerry, with a smile. “I can easily guess that was what you were going to say, Chunky.”

“Well, I was, but----”

“Oh, no offense,” put in Jerry, hastily. “I feel so much better, from having told you fellows, that I think I can eat a bit myself.”

“Who made the offer to your mother?” asked Ned. “That is, if it isn’t a secret,” he added, quickly.

“Oh, no,” answered Jerry. “The offer came from the Universal Plaster Company of New York.”

“Well, then, I don’t wonder she’s suspicious of anything that comes from New York!” broke in Bob. “There are more swindlers in that town than anywhere else in the world.”

“That’s because it’s such a big town,” observed Ned, deprecatingly.

“No, it isn’t either,” insisted the stout lad. “I got stung there once myself. I saw an advertisement of how to double your money, and, as I was short, I sent on the dollar bill they asked.”

“Did you learn how to double your money?” asked Ned, chuckling.

“Yes,” replied the fat youth, shortly. “They sent back word to fold it lengthways, and it would be doubled all right. Talk about a bunch of swindlers! Tell your mother to be on her guard, Jerry.”

“I will, Bob. And I’m looking out myself.” Jerry was laughing now.

“The Universal Plaster Company,” murmured Ned. “And so that concern wants to buy the swamp land of your mother’s, Jerry?”

“Yes, Ned.”

“What sort of a concern is it?”

“I don’t know. Their letter head doesn’t show. But it’s the price they offered that made me suspicious. It’s a lot more than the land is worth.”

“And that makes you think----” began Ned.

“That there’s something we don’t know about,” finished Jerry. “Either there is some valuable deposit on that land, or else the strip my mother owns is wanted for some development project. In either case the swamp piece may be worth a lot more than this Universal Plaster Company is offering, and, if it is, she ought to get the benefit of it.”

“That’s right,” agreed Bob. “But you ought to be able to find out, Jerry.”

“I ought to--yes. But so far I haven’t been able to. I can’t find out anything about this plaster company, except that it is a New York concern. I don’t know whether they make plaster for houses, or porous plasters for sick people. It’s a new concern, and they aren’t giving away their secret. But they’ve made mother a good offer for the land, and she wants to take it.”

“And you don’t want her to?” suggested Ned, questioningly.

“That’s just it,” Jerry agreed. “I want to look into it more, and find out what’s at the bottom of the offer. If the land is worth as much as they are willing to give, it may be worth more. But mother doesn’t agree with me. She wants to sell right away, particularly as the letter said the offer would be withdrawn in a few days, if not accepted.”

Jerry’s chums were silent a moment, and then Ned spoke.

“Say, what’s the matter with us fellows going over to Ryson’s swamp, and taking a look at the land your mother owns, Jerry?” he asked. “There’s been a lot of rain, lately, and we can almost get up to it in the motor boat, by going up Cabbage Creek. We can wear boots and wade when we can’t go any farther in the boat. Maybe we can get a line of how things are going that way. If there’s coal, or diamonds, on that land we might be able to see it.”

Jerry laughed.

“I can’t believe there’s anything as valuable as that on the swamp piece,” he said. “But, all the same, I’m suspicious. It’s very good of you boys to take an interest in my affairs.”

“Huh! It’s nothing of the sort!” cried Bob. “You’d do the same for us. I’m in favor of Ned’s plan--to go take a look at the place.”

“All right, then we’ll go,” assented Jerry. “We’ll start the first thing Monday morning. The offer doesn’t expire until the end of next week, and by that time we may find out something. It would be a queer thing if that swamp tract should prove valuable.”

“Hush! Here comes Andy!” exclaimed Ned, as the small chap was seen returning from his unsuccessful chase after the rabbit. “If he once gets wind of anything like a secret it’ll be all over town in a day or so.”

“That’s right,” agreed Jerry. “We’d best keep still about it.”

“Say, I hope I didn’t keep you fellows waiting!” exclaimed Andy, running up. “Thought sure I’d get that rabbit--he couldn’t run very fast--I was right after him--hop, skip and jump--up hill and down--through the bushes--I almost had hold of his hind leg once--I fell down--in the mud,” he needlessly added, for it could be seen plainly on his clothes. “Up again--on again--rabbit went in a hollow log,” resumed Andy, in his most excited voice. “I tried to build a fire and smoke him out, but I couldn’t. We’d have had rabbit potpie if I’d got him.”

“Rabbit potpie nothing!” cried Bob. “Rabbits are out of season, too. Come on, hop in and we’ll go to that restaurant. I’m half starved.”

“Chunky’s usual state,” commented Ned, as he took his place beside his stout chum.

Jerry resumed his position at the wheel, with Andy on the seat beside him, and once more the auto started off. This time the tall lad paid more attention to the steering, and there were no near-accidents.

But, if Jerry was not as absent-minded as he had been, still his thoughts were busy over the offer for the swamp land. And he realized why his mother was so anxious to have the money that might be paid for it. Though Mrs. Hopkins was quite well off, she depended on the income from her investments, and if some of these failed, she would need to have a larger capital in order to get the same return from the interest.

“But I’m going to try to induce her not to sell that land until I find out why those fellows are so anxious to get it,” mused Jerry, as he drove on in the big touring car.

It was dusk when the motor boys and Andy Rush returned to Cresville, after having had supper at the restaurant. Bob’s appetite proved even better than he himself had suspected, and the other boys were not far behind him. Andy Rush, too, in spite of his inability to sit still very long at a time, ate his share.

“And now, fellows, we’ll see if we can solve the mystery of the swamp land!” exclaimed Ned Slade on the Monday morning following, when, with Jerry and Bob, he had taken his place in the staunch motor boat.

“Well, we’ll make a try for it, anyhow,” agreed Jerry.

“Has your mother heard anything more from that plaster concern?” asked Bob.

“Yes, there was a letter from them this morning,” replied the tall lad, “reminding her that this week, Saturday, was the last day they would hold their offer open.”

“Did they say what they’d do if she didn’t accept it,” asked Ned.

“No, but they intimate that she would regret it,” answered Jerry. “So we’ve got a week before us, anyhow.”

The motor boat chugged off. Cabbage Creek, whither the boys were bound, was a sluggish stream, flowing from the swamp into a river which ran near Cresville.

The creek was navigable, part of the way up, for fairly large boats. Then the channel shallowed until only canoes could be used. But now a rainy spell had poured more water than usual into the creek, and the motor boat could be taken up it almost to the land owned by Mrs. Hopkins.

“And we can put on boots and walk when we can’t go any farther in the boat,” spoke Jerry, looking at three pairs of hip-boots in a seat locker.

Talking of various subjects, but, in the main, of the matter at present in hand, the boys sailed up Cabbage Creek. The sluggish stream was deeper than they had anticipated, and they did not have to stop, and tie the boat, until they were within a few hundred feet of Mrs. Hopkins’s land.

The swamp was surely a dismal place. Tall, gaunt trees, most of them dead, reared their branchless trunks high above the black water. Rotted and decayed stumps, in all sorts of grotesque shapes, lay half submerged in muddy pools. Trailing vines were all about, and hummocks of wire grass, here and there, offered uncertain footing.

“The only thing valuable I see about this place,” remarked Ned, “would be a place to take moving pictures of something like ‘Uncle Tom’s Cabin.’ It looks enough like the Everglades to be part of Florida.”

“It sure does,” agreed Bob, as he threw a piece of canvas over the seat locker containing the lunch he had been thoughtful enough to bring along. “That’ll keep off the sun,” he said, in explanation to his chums, who looked questioningly at him.

“Yes, it sure is dismal,” agreed Ned.

“And that’s all the more reason why I think it’s strange they offered so much for the land,” observed Jerry.

“Is this your mother’s land here?” asked Bob, motioning toward a tract just beyond the boat.

“No, it’s farther in. If you fellows want to go to it, better put on the boots.”

“Of course we want to go,” assented Ned.

A little later they were stepping from one grass hummock to another, carefully making their way through the swamp.

“Mother’s land begins here,” said Jerry, indicating the remains of a wire fence, the posts of which had rotted away. “Now if any of you can tell me what’s valuable about this----”

“Hush!” exclaimed Ned, stopping his chum.

“What is it?” asked Jerry, in a whisper.

“There are some men over there--just beyond those trees and bushes,” went on Ned. “They seem to be digging.”

He pointed, and Jerry, following the line of Ned’s index finger, saw some men with long-handled spades, removing what seemed to be yellow clay from a tract of land just beyond the boundary of his mother’s land.

“They’re after clay!” exclaimed Ned.

“Looks like it,” admitted Jerry. “I always knew there was clay here, though. There’s nothing new in that. But it’s no good. A man once tried to use it to make pottery, but it wasn’t the right kind. He said it wasn’t worth taking out. If that’s what those fellows are after they’re going to be disappointed.”

Jerry spoke louder than he intended, and his voice must have carried to the clay-diggers. One of them looked up, and, seeing the three boys cried out:

“Hey, you fellows! Clear out!”