The Rover Boys Megapack Read online

  “What’s the matter, Dick?” came from all the others.

  “Didn’t you see him?”

  “See who?”

  “Buddy Girk, the tramp thief, the fellow who used to train with Dan Baxter’s father.”

  “What, the fellow who stole your watch and broke jail at Rootville?” came from Tom.

  “The same.”

  “Where is he now?” questioned Sam.

  “I don’t know. The instant he saw me he skipped.”

  “I’ll wager he wasn’t in the crowd for any good purpose,” went on Dick, as he remembered how he had suffered the loss of his timepiece at Buddy Girk’s hands. Dick had had a good deal of trouble in recovering the article.

  “He ought to be pointed out to the police,” put in Frank. “It’s not safe to have such men at large.”

  “I wish I could collar him and make him talk about father’s affairs,” grumbled Tom.

  “Why, did he know anything of your father’s affairs?” exclaimed Frank Harrington, in astonishment.

  “I think so. You see, Arnold Baxter tried to defraud my father out of some western mining property, and this Buddy Girk was mixed up in the affair—how, I don’t exactly know.”

  “I see. By the way, Tom, have you heard anything of your father yet?”

  “Not a word,” and Tom’s face grew sober. “It does beat all what has become of him, doesn’t it?” he added.

  “I should think you would want to go and hunt him up.”

  “We’ve talked about that already, but Uncle Randolph, who is our guardian, thinks it would prove a wild-goose chase. He says the interior of Africa is a big place to hunt any man in.”

  “He’s right there. But still I would want to hunt for him, even if I had to go into the very jungles to do it.”

  “We’ll go some day—unless father turns up,” put in Dick decidedly. “If Uncle Randolph won’t go, we’ll go alone. But I would like to meet this Buddy Girk,” he continued, after a brief pause.

  The boys had to walk to the corner of the block to get aboard of a street car, and while waiting there, somewhat in the shadow, Sam pulled Dick by the coat sleeve.

  “There he goes!”

  “Who?”

  “Buddy Girk. See him sneaking along the buildings over there?” and the youngest Rover pointed with his hand.

  All saw the figure, and Tom at once proposed that they follow the fellow. Frank was willing, and away they went across the street and also into the gloom.

  Buddy Girk was making good time past a number of business buildings which at this hour of the night were locked and barred up and practically deserted.

  “I wonder if he saw us start to follow him?” whispered Dick, after several blocks had been passed.

  “I don’t think so. If he had, it’s more than likely that he would have legged it to get away. He—hullo, he’s going into that alleyway!”

  As Tom spoke he pointed to an opening between two tall office buildings. Reaching the spot they saw, at the foot of the alleyway, a couple of tenement houses. Buddy Girk was ascending the steps of one of the houses, and presently he disappeared within the dark hall.

  “He must be stopping here,” remarked Sam.

  “That is something worth knowing—if we want to put the police on his track.”

  “I might have him arrested at once,” suggested Dick. “He may not be here in the morning.”

  “Why don’t you go and have a talk with him?” came from Frank. “He may get scared and tell you all you want to know about that mining business.”

  “By jinks, there is something in that!” cried Dick.

  “Don’t you get into trouble,” warned Tom. “He may prove an ugly customer if you corner him.”

  “Let’s all go in,” said Sam. “He won’t dare to do much with four against him.”

  The subject was discussed for a few minutes, and they resolved to follow Sam’s advice, Dick to lead the way and learn just how the land lay.

  Then all walked down the alleyway and toward the tenement, little dreaming of the surprise in store for them.

  CHAPTER VII

  DICK IS MADE A PRISONER

  The hallway of the tenement was pitch-dark, the door standing open for a foot or more. From a rear room came a thin stream of light under a door and a low murmur of voices.

  “I guess he went to the rear,” whispered Dick. “You wait around the corner till I see.”

  Noiselessly he entered the hallway and walked to the door of the rear room. Listening, he heard an Irishman and his wife talking over some factory work the man had been promised.

  “Girk can’t be there,” he thought, when he heard an upper door open.

  “Hullo, Buddy, back again!” muttered a strangely familiar voice, and then the upper door was closed and locked.

  Wondering where he had heard that voice before, Dick came forward again and ascended the rickety stairs. They creaked dismally, and he fully expected to see somebody come out and demand what was going on. But nobody came, and soon the upper hall was gained, and he reached the door which he rightfully guessed had just been opened and closed.

  “Yes, everything is all okay,” were the first words to reach his ears. “But I had a sweet job to find Mooney. He’s cracked on music, it seems, and had gone to a concert instead of attending to business.”

  “But he won’t fail us tomorrow morning?” came in a second voice, and now Dick recognized the speaker as Arnold Baxter, his father’s worst enemy, who had been left at the hospital in Ithaca with a broken limb and several smashed ribs. Baxter had tackled Dick while the two were on a moving train, and, while trying to throw the boy off, had gotten the worst of the encounter by tumbling off himself.

  “Arnold Baxter! is it possible!” muttered Dick to himself. “He must have a constitution like iron to get around so soon.”

  “No, Mooney won’t fail us,” said Buddy Girk. “I gave him a mighty good talkin’ to, I did.”

  “I can’t afford to have him go back on us,” growled Arnold Baxter. “I’m not well enough yet to do this job alone.”

  “How does your chest feel?”

  “Oh, the ribs seem to be all right. But my leg isn’t. I shouldn’t wonder but what I’ll have to limp more or less for the rest of my life.”

  “That puts me in mind. Whom do you reckon I clapped eyes on down at the concert hall tonight?”

  “I’m sure I don’t know. Any of our enemies?”

  “Those three Rover boys.”

  “What!” Arnold Baxter pushed back his chair in amazement. “Can they be—be following me?” he gasped.

  “No. I saw ‘em by accident. They had been to the concert.”

  “But they don’t belong here. They live on a farm called Valley Brook, near the village of Dexter’s Corners.”

  “They were with another boy—a well-dressed chap. Maybe they are paying him a visit.”

  Arnold Baxter shook his head. “I don’t like this. If they have got wind of anything…”

  “But how could they get wind?” persisted Buddy Girk.

  “That would remain to be found out. You must remember, Buddy, that they are down on me because of that row I once had with their father over that gold mine.”

  “I know it. And, by the way, I never got nothin’ out of that deal neither,” growled Buddy Girk.

  “Didn’t I tell you that some papers were missing? I half believe Anderson Rover took them with him when he set out for Africa.”

  “Then they are gone for good.”

  “Not if he comes back, Buddy. That man is like his boys—bound to turn up when you least expect it. That gold mine was—What’s that?”

  Arnold Baxter stopped short and leaped to his feet. A wrangle in the hallway just outside of the door had interrupted him.

  “Vot vos yo
u doin’ here, hey?” came in a heavy German voice. “I dink me you vos up to no goot, hey?”

  “Let me go!” came from Dick. “I have done no harm.”

  “I dink you vos von sneak thief alretty! Stand still bis I find owit.”

  “It’s Dutch Jake!” cried Buddy Girk. “He has collared somebody in the hall. I’ll see who it is.”

  He threw open the door and allowed the light of a lamp to fall on Dick and the burly man who had captured the youth.

  “Great smoke! It’s one of dem Rover boys!” he cried, dropping into his old-time manner of speech. “Wot are you doin’ here?”

  “You know dot young feller?” demanded the man who had been mentioned as Dutch Jake.

  “Yes, I do, and he’s up to no good here,” replied Buddy Girk.

  “Den maybe I best kick him owit kvick, hey?”

  “Yes—no—wait a minute.” Girk turned to Arnold Baxter. “Here is that oldest Rover boy spying on us.”

  “Ha! I told you they were regular rats for that sort of work,” fumed Arnold Baxter.

  “Don’t let him go.”

  “Why not?”

  “He may know too much. Bring him in here till I question him.”

  “Not much!” burst out Dick. “Help! Help!”

  His cries came to a sudden ending as Buddy Girk clapped a large and somewhat dirty hand over his mouth.

  “Run him in here, Jake,” said the former tramp. “He is a fellow we have an account to settle with.”

  “Is dot so? Vell, I ton’t vont me no troubles,” answered the German doubtfully.

  “It’s all right—he—he stole some of our money. That’s right, in with him,” and Dick was run into the room, after which Dutch Jake retired as suddenly as he had appeared. He was an elderly man, of a queer turn of mind, and, all by himself, occupied a garret room of the tenement.

  As soon as the door was locked Arnold Baxter faced Dick. “Now will you keep quiet, or shall I knock you over with this?” he demanded, and raised a heavy cane he had grown into the habit of carrying since he had escaped from the hospital, on the very day that the authorities were going to transfer him to the jail at Ithaca.

  “Don’t you dare to touch me, Arnold Baxter!” cried the boy boldly.

  “Will you keep quiet?”

  “That depends. What do you want of me?”

  “You followed Girk to this place and were spying on us.”

  “I think I had a right to follow Girk. He is wanted by the authorities, as you know.”

  “You heard us planning to do something.”

  “Perhaps I did.”

  “I know you did.”

  “All right, then; don’t ask me about it.”

  “You think that you are a smart boy,” growled Baxter uneasily.

  “Thank you for nothing.”

  “Don’t get impudent.”

  “That is what old Crabtree used to say.”

  “The Rovers always were too important for their own good, young man.”

  “We know how to do the fair thing by others—and that is more than you!”

  “Shut up; I’m in no humor to listen to your preaching.”

  “Then open the door and let me go.”

  “Not just yet. I want to know how much you overheard of my talk with Buddy Girk.”

  “I reckon he heard all of it,” growled the fool.

  “If I was you, Baxter, I wouldn’t let him go at all.”

  “You would keep him a prisoner?”

  Buddy Girk nodded.

  “But we can’t guard him, Buddy.”

  “We won’t want to guard him. Just bind him hands and feet, and stuff a gag in his mouth, and there you are.”

  “Would you leave him in this room?”

  “I don’t know.” Girk scratched his tangled head of hair. “No, I wouldn’t. I’ll tell you where to take him.”

  He finished by whispering into Arnold Baxter’s ear. At once the rascal’s face brightened, and he nodded. “Just the thing!” he muttered.

  “It will serve him right.”

  “Are you going to let me go?” demanded Dick uneasily, for he saw that the two were plotting to do him injury.

  “No,” came from both.

  Without another word Dick leaped for the door. The key was in the lock, but ere he could turn it Buddy Girk hauled him back. A scuffle followed, which came to a sudden termination when Arnold Baxter raised his heavy cane and struck the boy, on the back of the head. With a million stars dancing before his eyes, poor Dick went down completely dazed.

  Girk lost no time in following up the advantage thus gained, and by the time Dick felt like rising he found his hands bound behind him and a gag of knotted cloth stuffed into his mouth. Then his feet were fastened together, and he was rolled up in an old blanket much the worse for wear and the want of washing.

  “Now, come on, before anybody else spots us!” exclaimed Baxter. “If you can lift him alone I’ll bring the light. I’m no good on the carry yet.”

  “All right, light the way,” answered Buddy Girk, and took up the form of the boy.

  Taking up the smoky lamp, Arnold Baxter led the way out of a rear door to a side hallway. Here two flights of stairs led to a low and ill ventilated cellar. The underground apartment had never been used for anything but old rubbish, and this was piled high on all sides.

  “Here we are,” said Baxter, as he paused in front of what had once been a stone coal bin. “Dump him in there and shut the door on him. I don’t believe he’ll get out in any hurry.”

  Dick’s form was dropped on a heap of dirty newspapers and straw. Then Girk and Baxter left the bin. There was a heavy door to the place, and this they closed and shoved the rusty bolt into the socket. In a second more they were on their way upstairs again, and Dick was left to his fate.

  CHAPTER VIII

  THE SEARCH FOR DICK

  “Dick is taking his time, that’s certain.”

  The remark came from Sam, after the boys who had been left in the alleyway had waited the best part of half an hour for the elder Rover’s reappearance.

  “Perhaps he has found something of interest,” suggested Frank.

  “And perhaps he has fallen into a trap,” put In Tom. “I’ve a good mind to hunt him up.”

  “If you go I’ll go with you,” said Sam.

  “I don’t want to be left out here alone,” said Frank. “Let us wait a little longer.”

  The best part of an hour passed, but of course nothing was seen or heard of Dick.

  “I shan’t wait any longer,” began Tom, when they saw the front door of the tenement opened and two men hurried forth. Both had their hats pulled far down over their eyes and had their coat collars turned up, even though the night was warm.

  “Out of sight!” cried Sam in a low voice, and they dropped down behind the stoop of the second tenement.

  “One of those men was Buddy Girk!” ejaculated Tom, when the pair had passed up the alleyway.

  “And don’t you know who the other was?” demanded Sam. “It was Dan Baxter’s father!”

  “Impossible, Sam. Arnold Baxter is in the hospital, and—”

  “It was Dan Baxter’s father, as true as I’m born, Tom. No wonder he walked with a cane! Am I not right, Frank?”

  “I don’t know, I’m sure I don’t remember Dan’s father. But that was Buddy Girk, beyond a doubt.”

  All of the boys were considerably excited and wondered if it would be best to follow up the vanishing pair.

  “I’d do it if I was certain Dick was safe!” cried Tom. “I’m going to hunt for him,” he added, and before the others could stop him he entered the tenement. He stumbled around the lower hallway for several minutes and then called out softly:

  “Dick! Dick! Where are you?”

 
No answer came back, and he continued his search. Then, lighting a match, he mounted the rickety stairs and called out again.

  “Phat are ye a-raisin’ such a row about?” demanded an Irish voice suddenly, and a front room door was thrown open. “Can’t ye let a dasent family slape?”

  “I’m looking for my brother,” replied Tom. “Sorry to disturb you. Have you seen anything of him?”

  “Sure an’ I don’t know yer brother from the side av sole leather, b’y. Go ‘long an’ let me an’ me family slape,” replied the Irishman.

  “I’ve got to find my brother, sir. I’m afraid he has met with foul play. He came to see the men who just went out.”

  “Oh, is that so now? Foul play, is it? I thought them newcomers was up to no good. I heard ‘em carryin’ on in their room a while ago.”

  “Which room is it, please?”

  “There ye are—the wan on the lift. Is the dure open?”

  Tom tried the door. “No, it’s locked—the two men just went out.” He raised his voice. “Dick! Where are you? Dick!”

  “If yez call like that yez will have the wholt tiniment aroused,” said the Irishman. “An’ it’s’ a bad crowd on the nixt flure, I kin tell ye that.”

  “I can’t help it—I am bound to find my brother,” replied Tom desperately.

  Disappearing for a moment, the Irishman came out half dressed and with a lighted candle in his hand. By this time Sam and Frank had followed Tom to the upper floor. Soon several men and women put in an appearance, including Dutch Jake.

  “Who vos dot poy you vos look for?” asked the aged German. “Vos he der von vot was standin’ by dis door apout an hour ago?”

  “I guess so,” said Tom.

  “Dem mans vot got dis room open der door und took him inside.”

  “Took him inside!” burst out Sam and Tom simultaneously.

  “Yah,” replied Dutch Jake, but failed to add that he had had anything to do with the capture.

  “Von of dem say dot poy vos stole some money alretty.”

  “It was a cock-and-bull story to make him a prisoner,” said Tom. “I’m going to find him if I can,” and he threw himself on the door with all of his strength.

  At first the barrier refused to budge, but when Sam and Frank also pushed, it gave way with a bang, hurling the trio to the floor inside.