CHAPTER XV

LOOKING FOR BILL

Jerry turned toward the rear wall of his compartment to get his necktie, which was hanging on a nail. As he did so he happened to glance out of the crescent shaped ventilating opening at the rear and saw a man running over the sand, looking back every now and then.

Something about the figure seemed strangely familiar to Jerry, though as he could not get a front view, he was puzzled for a moment.

“I know him! It’s Bill Berry!” he exclaimed.

Without pausing to adjust his collar and tie, Jerry ran out. He was joined by his chums, and several men who had been alarmed by the cries.

“What is it?” asked half a dozen.

“I’ve been robbed! My diamond ring, worth five hundred dollars, is missing!” shouted the half-dressed man.

“Where did you leave it?” asked an attendant.

“I hid it in my shoe.”

“You should have left it at the office. The management can not be responsible for jewelry taken from the bath houses.”

“They can’t, eh? Well, we’ll see about that!” spluttered the excited man. “I’ve been robbed and some one has got to settle with me for it.”

Jerry came close to the man who was raising such a disturbance and gave a start.

“Why, Professor Snodgrass!” he ejaculated. “Is it really you?”

“Jerry Hopkins!” cried the man and shook hands. “I am delighted to meet you!” And Uriah Snodgrass beamed on the boy. “How came you here? Do you think I can find any valuable bugs or butterflies in this neighborhood?”

“Don’t know about butterflies and bugs,” answered Jerry, with a grin, for he well remembered the failings of the old collector, who had accompanied the motor boys on their trip to Mexico and across the plains. “But what is this about your diamond ring?”

“Somebody has stolen it. And what is more, they have taken something even more valuable--a case full of choice specimens of mosquitoes!” And Uriah Snodgrass shook his head in despair.

“Mosquitoes!” snorted an attendant, in disgust.

“Ah! a rare collection, worth a thousand dollars or more!”

“I wouldn’t give you ten cents for a bushel of mosquitoes.”

“Well, I want them back--and I want my diamond ring,” said the professor.

“How did it happen?” asked Jerry.

“I don’t know exactly. I had been in the water about an hour. When I came out I dressed, and when I came to put my shoes on, before I put on my coat, vest and collar, I happened to think I had left my ring in the toe of my left shoe. I looked for it, and it was gone.”

“Was your door forced?”

“Didn’t appear to be.”

“Let’s have a look at your room,” suggested the attendant, and he led the way to it, followed by a throng.

There was no evidence that the door had been tampered with. The lock was not sprung, and there were no marks on the jamb, which would have been the case had the door been forced open with a jimmy.

While Uriah Snodgrass, the attendant, and those gathered out of curiosity were standing outside the bath house, Jerry went inside. As he stepped on the floor he noticed that one of the boards was loose. He stooped down, and found he could lift the plank up.

“There’s how the thief got in!” he exclaimed. “See there is a space beneath the floor, and a man could crawl under from in back.”

“That’s so, these houses set on piles driven into the sand,” the attendant stated. “There’s a space of about two feet between the floor and the beach.”

“Then I’ll sue the management!” declared the professor. “The idea of leaving things so a burglar could push up a board, reach his hand in, and take whatever he wanted!”

“You should have left your ring at the office,” insisted the man who looked after the pavilions. “What sort of a ring was it?”

“It was a big diamond set in the head of a snake with two rubies for eyes,” Professor Snodgrass replied. “It’s all right enough to talk about leaving it at the office. Lock the stable door after the horse is stolen is a good motto, also, but it doesn’t give me back my ring. I’ll sue some one.”

While the professor was muttering to himself, and finishing dressing, Jerry motioned to his chums who had come up to speak to Uriah Snodgrass, to follow him. He led them a safe distance away and said:

“Guess who I saw.”

“Noddy Nixon!” exclaimed Ned.

“Bill Berry,” replied Jerry, and he told what he had observed.

“What do you suppose he was running away for?” asked Bob. “Are you sure it was Bill?”

“Positive. As to what he was doing I believe he stole that ring.”

“Let’s go tell the professor,” suggested Bob.

“It wouldn’t do any good,” came from Jerry. “We haven’t any proof, and we might get unpleasantly mixed up in the thing.”

“What would you suggest?”

“What do you say to trying to locate Bill?” Jerry went on. “If he’s working at a lighthouse near here we can easily find him. There are not so many. There’s one up the coast about five miles, and one down from here, about the same distance. We can take a couple of days at it cruising around, and combine business with pleasure, though it’s not very nice business hunting for Bill. What do you say?”

“Fine!” exclaimed Ned.

“It will be a regular picnic!” from Bob.

“Oh, of course it will if Chunky goes along,” put in Ned. “Always thinking of something to eat. Don’t take the compass for a can of peas next time!”

Bob aimed a blow at his tormentor, but Ned cleverly dodged it.

“Let him alone,” suggested Jerry. “He was punished enough. Well, if you’re agreed, let’s get ready to make the trip. We can start to-morrow.”

The boys talked the robbery over with Uriah Snodgrass in a general way but did not mention Bill Berry, not wishing to excite the professor too much. They learned that their old friend was only down to the shore for the day and must go back to the city to deliver a lecture at eight o’clock that evening.

“I shall sue somebody,” said Uriah Snodgrass, “if I don’t get my ring and my box of mosquitoes back.”

“Perhaps they will turn up some day,” answered Bob; and then the motor boys and Uriah Snodgrass separated.

The boys spent the afternoon cleaning the engine and getting the boat in shape for the proposed trip. They made sure they had a compass along this time, and Bob was only allowed to supervise what was strictly eatable.

“Shall we try the upper or the lower lighthouse?” asked Jerry.

“The upper one,” suggested Bob. “We’ve seen the lower one, at least the light of it from a distance, but never the upper.”

So it was arranged. Early the next morning the boys were at the dock. As they unlocked the boathouse they heard a voice singing, as the owner trudged along the beach:

“It was on the isle of Nankum, Near the land of Timbuctoo That poor old Sam fell overboard one night. There was a great commotion In the middle of the ocean, Sure he gave the sharks and whales a terrible fright.”

“Salt Water Sam!” exclaimed Ned.

“Avast and belay my hearties!” shouted the sailor, who was nothing if not good natured. “Whither away this bright, beautiful morning?”

“Up the coast,” replied Jerry. “We’re going to take a look at the other lighthouse.”

“Just the thing!” cried Sam. “I know lighthouses like I do the sea. It’s part of my business. I’ll go along, and we’ll combine business with pleasure.”

“How’s that, by catching another whale and exhibiting it?” asked Bob.

“It’ll be sharks this time,” the sailor went on. “Wait till I get my tackle and I’ll be with you.”

“He doesn’t wait to be asked,” commented Jerry with a laugh.

“Oh, let him come along,” put in Ned. “He’s good fun, and he helped us a lot. Besides, he may know the lighthouse keeper.”

“And it will be sport to fish for sharks,” added Bob.

“Oh I’m willing,” came from Jerry.

Sam soon returned from the shack where he lived with two good sized hooks, some short lengths of chain, and a coil of thin rope. He also carried some salt pork in a paper.

“If we land a couple of big ones we can take in almost as much as we did on the whale,” he added. “Course the sharks around here aren’t the great big fellows, but eight feet is no slouch of a fish, and I’ve seen plenty that size.”

They started off, sailing across the harbor toward the mouth, and, passing through the narrow strait, laid their course up the coast. The sea was calm, and the day a fine one for a sail.

“How do you fish for sharks?” asked Bob.

“Just bait the hook and throw it overboard,” replied Sam. “But we’ll wait until we’re on our way back. Don’t want to tow a shark up to the lighthouse.”

About two hours’ run brought the boat in sight of the upper point, on which the warning beacon was built. It stood in bold relief against the sky, a tall white object, like a big round chimney.

“Will they let us go in it?” asked Bob.

“Sure, I know the keeper,” replied Sam. “He’s an old friend of mine.”

There was a little dock near the foot of the lighthouse and to this the boat was made fast. As the boys scrambled up the rocks that led to a little level plateau on which the house was built, they kept their eyes open for a sight of Bill Berry.

The only person they saw, however, was a little girl. She had light flaxen hair which streamed all about her head in the stiff wind that was blowing.

“Hello lassie; is your papa in?” asked Sam.

“Yes, sir, he’s filling the lamps.”

“Tell him Robinson Crusoe and his three men, Friday, Saturday and Sunday would like to see him.”

“Are you really and truly Robinson Crusoe?” demanded the child, her eyes big with wonder.

“Well I was shipwrecked often enough to be,” was Sam’s answer, as he smiled. “Jack Stilkins will know who’s here when he gets that message,” he added, and the little girl went into the lower part of the lighthouse.