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diff --git a/old/67564-0.txt b/old/67564-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index af3bfc4..0000000 --- a/old/67564-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,7063 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Jerry Todd and the Talking Frog, by -Leo Edwards - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Jerry Todd and the Talking Frog - -Author: Leo Edwards - -Release Date: March 5, 2022 [eBook #67564] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Jeroen Hellingman and the Online Distributed Proofreading - Team at https://www.pgdp.net/ for Project Gutenberg (This - file was produced from images generously made available by - The Internet Archive) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JERRY TODD AND THE TALKING -FROG *** - - - - - - JERRY TODD - AND THE - TALKING FROG - - BY - LEO EDWARDS - - Author of - THE JERRY TODD BOOKS, ETC. - - - GROSSET & DUNLAP - PUBLISHERS : : NEW YORK - - Made in the United States of America - - - - - - - - -JERRY TODD SAYS: - - -When I started writing this book, I thought of calling it: JERRY TODD -AND THE PUZZLE ROOM MYSTERY. But Scoop told me that wasn’t the proper -title. “There is more in the book about the talking frog than there is -about the puzzle room,” he pointed out. “So why don’t you call it JERRY -TODD AND THE TALKING FROG?” - -So it was our leader, you see, who gave this book its title. - -Like my other books, this is a fun-mystery-adventure story. The “fun” -part is where we peddle the spy’s beauty soap. Bubbles of Beauty, let -me tell you, was very wonderful soap! At first we couldn’t believe that -it would do all of the amazing things that Mr. Posselwait claimed for -it. But that is where we got a surprise! - -There is a ghost in this story. B-r-r-r-r! At midnight it comes to the -old haunted house, walking on the porches. Creepy, I’ll tell the world. -We kept the doors locked. For we were all alone in the brick house, -Scoop and I and Peg and our new chum, Tom Ricks. It was to help our new -chum that we braved the perils of the haunted house. You see, a puzzle -maker had met with a strange death in the brick house, and that is what -made it haunted. - -“Ten and ten.” That was the Bible’s secret. What was “ten and ten”? Why -did the ghost come nightly to the inventor’s home? We found out, but it -took us many exciting days to solve the mystery. - -Yes, if you like a spooky, shivery, mysterious story, you surely will -enjoy this book, my fifth one. - -Here are the titles of my five books in their order: - - JERRY TODD AND THE WHISPERING MUMMY - JERRY TODD AND THE ROSE-COLORED CAT - JERRY TODD AND THE OAK ISLAND TREASURE - JERRY TODD AND THE WALTZING HEN - JERRY TODD AND THE TALKING FROG - -My sixth book will be JERRY TODD AND THE PURRING EGG. This dodo egg, -taken from King Tut’s tomb, was more than three thousand years old. The -Tutter newspaper called it the “million-dollar egg.” Could it be -rejuvenated? One man said so. The story of what happened when the egg -was “rejuvenated” makes mighty good reading for a boy who likes a book -packed full of chuckles and mysterious tangles. - - Your friend, - Jerry Todd. - - - - - - - - -OUR CHATTER-BOX - - -When I started writing books for boys (this is Leo Edwards speaking) I -was practically unknown in the story-writing world. Never having heard -of me, boys didn’t know whether to buy my books or not. The titles, -featuring Whispering Mummies and Purring Eggs, seemed kind of silly to -a lot of young readers. But to-day hundreds of thousands of boys look -forward to my new titles. If the books are slow in coming, a goodly -portion of these hundreds of thousands of “fans” write and tell me -about it. Also they jack me up if things aren’t so-so. And, happier for -me, they pat me on the back (verbally) if they like my stuff. I never -tire of reading these bully good letters. And I was tickled pink when -my publisher told me that I could incorporate a few of these letters in -a “Chatter-Box.” An experiment, the first “Chatter-Box” appeared in my -sixteenth book. And so popular has this department become (it is made -up almost wholly of letters, poems and miscellaneous contributions from -boys and girls who read my books) that now I have been given the -pleasing job of supplying my earlier books with brief “Chatter-Boxes.” -Writers of accepted poems, built around the characters in my books, or -featuring some boyish interest, win prizes. And, of course, it is -pleasing to other boys to see their letters in print. If you have -written me a letter I may have used it in another “Chatter-Box.” Or if -you are contemplating a letter, why not write it to-day? It may be just -the letter I need for one of the big “Chatter-Boxes” in my new books. -It may even give me an idea, for my books, which will bring millions of -added laughs into the world. - - - -LETTERS - -“I have read every book you published, including the Trigger Berg -books,” writes Philip Horsting of Brooklyn, N. Y., “and I like them -all. Trigger Berg can get into mischief faster than any boy I know. I -think that the ‘Chatter-Box’ is a very good idea and while I’m writing -this letter my aunt is reading the latest ‘Chatter-Box’ right now.” - -“I just read Andy Blake’s Secret Service,” writes Bill Hopwood of -Primos, Pa., “and there’s something in the book I don’t understand. -When Eddie Garry’s uncle, with whom Eddie was living, told Andy that -the latter’s father was his younger brother, and Eddie’s father’s twin, -how come that Andy’s name is Blake and Eddie’s name is Garry? Did -Andy’s father go under a false name?” - -Yes, Bill, when Andy’s father ran away from home, determined never to -have anything more to do with his own people, he dropped the name of -Garry and took the name of Blake. By rights, we should call Andy by his -true name. But he prefers to keep the name he has known all his life. -So we’ll continue to speak of him as Andy Blake instead of Andy Garry. - -“Not long ago,” writes Dub Moritin of Dallas, Texas, “I was reading one -of your Jerry Todd books and I saw where you had a Freckled Goldfish -club. Gee, Mr. Edwards, I sure would like to join! The boys call me -Dub. If you want to call me that, it’s OK with me. I have six Todd and -two Ott books. I save my weekly spending money and if I haven’t enough -Mom gives me the rest. For both Mom and Dad are crazy about your books. -I am sending the two two-cent stamps to join your club.” - -“I am trying to get another boy besides myself to join the Freckled -Goldfish club,” writes Charles F. Spiro of Yonkers, N. Y. “I told him -what an honor it was to be a Freckled Goldfish. The kids living near me -use the number thirteen for a danger cry just like Jerry and his gang.” - -“Some day I’m going to break a rotten egg to see how it smells,” writes -John F. McIntyre of Natchez, Miss. “Then I can prove it to my brother -who is a dummy and said Jerry and Poppy wasn’t any account. Gr-r-r-r-r! -I feel like biting his head off. If I did it wouldn’t be anything gone. -Is it very easy to write a book? If so, would you please tell me how to -do it? I am joining the Freckled Goldfish lodge to get my name in the -big book.” - -Well, John, I don’t know what you’re going to prove by breaking a -rotten egg. But if you’ll gain anything by it, in proving to your older -brother that Jerry and Poppy are worth-while pals, go ahead. I assure -you that it would be very hard indeed for a small boy to write a book. -We have to live a good many years, and learn a lot about the world and -its ways, before we can write interesting books. But if you want to get -some pointers on story writing see my first “Chatter-Box” in Poppy Ott -and the Tittering Totem. - -“The boys around my neighborhood were always talking about how spooky -and funny your books were,” writes Carl A. Swanson of Minneapolis, -Minn. “I never had read one of your books. But I decided to read one to -see if it was as good as my friends had said. Boy, was it ever hot! It -was Poppy Ott and the Freckled Goldfish. I just got Poppy Ott and the -Tittering Totem Saturday and I laughed so much Sunday reading it that -both my grandmother and my dad started reading it.” - -“I would like to join the Secret and Mysterious Order of the Freckled -Goldfish,” writes Mortimer A. Stiller of New York, N. Y. “Jerry, Poppy -and Trigger are my best pals. I agree with whoever said: ‘He that -loveth a book will never want a faithful friend,’ only, of course, I -find more than one friend in your books. Your latest idea of having a -‘Chatter-Box’ in each book is great. As I live in the city the only -thing that I can do that you mention is to start a local Goldfish -chapter, so please send me the necessary booklets.” - -“I have just finished reading Andy Blake’s Comet Coaster,” writes Jack -Pattee of Chicago, Ill. “I liked the book very much but I like Jerry -Todd better. Before I read Andy Blake I read Trigger Berg and His 700 -Mouse Traps. That was a swell book, only it didn’t have a mystery. I -have a friend, Jerry O’Neil, and he told me that he wrote to you and -you are going to put his letter in the ‘Chatter-Box’ in Jerry Todd, -Editor-in-Grief. I am a Freckled Goldfish and I read most of your -books. I have a small black dog named Gertie who likes gumdrops, candy -and chocolate doughnuts.” - - - -FRECKLED GOLDFISH - -Out of my book, Poppy Ott and the Freckled Goldfish, has grown our -great Freckled Goldfish lodge, membership in which is open to all boys -and girls who are interested in my books. Thousands of readers have -joined the club. We have peachy membership cards (designed by Bert -Salg, the popular illustrator of my books) and fancy buttons. Also for -members who want to organize branch clubs (hundreds are in successful -operation, providing boys and girls with added fun) we have rituals. - -To join (and to be a loyal Jerry Todd fan I think you ought to join), -please observe these simple rules: - -(1) Write (or print) your name plainly. - -(2) Supply your complete printed address. - -(3) Give your age. - -(4) Enclose two two-cent postage stamps (for card and button). - -(5) Address your letter to - - Leo Edwards, - Cambridge, - Wisconsin. - - - -LOCAL CHAPTERS - -To help young organizers we have produced a printed ritual, which any -member who wants to start a Freckled Goldfish club in his own -neighborhood can’t afford to be without. This booklet tells how to -organize the club, how to conduct meetings, how to transact all club -business, and, probably most important of all, how to initiate -candidates. - -The complete initiation is given word for word. Naturally, these -booklets are more or less secret. So, if you send for one, please do -not show it to anyone who isn’t a Freckled Goldfish. Three chief -officers will be required to put on the initiation, which can be given -in any member’s home, so, unless each officer is provided with a -booklet, much memorizing will have to be done. The best plan is to have -three booklets to a chapter. These may be secured (at cost) at six -cents each (three two-cent stamps) or three for sixteen cents (eight -two-cent stamps). Address all orders to Leo Edwards, Cambridge, -Wisconsin. - - - -CLUB NEWS - -“We have eleven members in our Pool,” writes Gold Fin Samuel Ferguson -of Philadelphia, Pa., “and at almost every meeting we have visitors. I -am enclosing a cipher code that we use in writing secret messages.” - -Also it is Sam’s suggestion that we have a booklet printed giving an -official Freckled Goldfish secret code, then members can write to one -another in secret. How many members of our club would like to possess -such a booklet? Let me know as soon as possible. And if there is -sufficient demand, we may produce one. But you fellows have got to show -me that there is a demand for the booklet before we go ahead with it. -Another boy suggested that we have such a booklet and then print part -of “Our Chatter-Box” in code. How does that strike you? - -“We now have a Freckled Goldfish song, yells, a jazz band composed of -tin cans and our Pool is decorated swell,” writes Gold Fin Francis -Smith of Chambersburg, Pa. “Also we have two goldfish, named Leo and -Freckles.” - -I suppose I ought to send my namesake a present. What do you want, -Francis, a box of goldfish food or an angleworm? - -Nancy Hannemann of Chicago, Ill., is, I think, our youngest member. -Giving her age as two, she confesses that the letter of application was -written by her brother, also a Freckled Goldfish. - -“I have been a Freckled Goldfish for several months,” writes C. B. -Andrews of Oklahoma City, Okla. “It is a secret and mysterious order, -but nothing secret and mysterious has been done yet. So I suggest that -you write to each member, telling him to join with other local members -and do mysterious good turns. For example, suppose some poor old lady -in your neighborhood has a birthday. Early in the morning before she is -up and around, leave a couple of goldfish at her door with a card -reading: ‘With the compliments of the Secret and Mysterious Order of -the Freckled Goldfish.’ That would be pleasantly mysterious.” - -Which, I think, is a corking good suggestion. - -The three happiest boys in Yankton, South Dakota, are Dan Schenk (G. -F.), Joe Dowling (S. F,) and Bob Seeley (F. F.). Not only have these -boys organized a successful Pool, but they have swell rotographed -letterheads. The reproduction of the “fish” is almost as good as Salg -could do himself. Dan advises that the Pool has its meetings in an -attic. Boy, I bet they have fun! - -“Our Freckled Goldfish club,” writes Ernest Smith of Alhambra, Calif., -“has an orchestra consisting of a violin, saxophone, a jazzophone and a -harmonica. All of the boys playing in the orchestra are Freckled -Goldfish.” - - - -LEO’S PICTURE - -And had you heard, gang, about the marvelous piece of “art” that you -can get by sending ten cents in stamps to Grosset & Dunlap, 1140 -Broadway, New York, N. Y. Yah, the “art” referred to is Leo’s -picture—and what a wonderful bargain! Only ten cents for such a -marvelous picture! - - - - - - - - -CONTENTS - - - CHAPTER PAGE - - I The Boy in the Tree 1 - II The Talking Frog 8 - III An Unknown Prowler 18 - IV We Take the Frog to School 27 - V Bubbles of Beauty 41 - VI The Mysterious Soap Man 52 - VII What Scoop Did 62 - VIII In the Old Mill 71 - IX The Mystery Deepens 83 - X A Surprise 95 - XI The Bible’s Secret 103 - XII So Beautiful! 114 - XIII Up a Rope 129 - XIV Felix Gennor, Jr. 142 - XV The Prisoner 150 - XVI Chased by a Ghost 168 - XVII The Crazy Puzzle Room 173 - XVIII The Ten-Ring Puzzle 182 - XIX Scoop Disappears 192 - XX Up the River 197 - XXI Fishing! 213 - XXII We Capture the Ghost 222 - - - - - - - - -JERRY TOD AND THE TALKING FROG - - -CHAPTER I - -THE BOY IN THE TREE - - -I got into the bushes quick as scat. Biting hard on my breath, sort of. -For right there in front of our eyes was a regular old gee-whacker of a -dinosaur. Bigger than the town water tower and the Methodist Church -steeple put together. I tell you it was risky for us. - -My chum got ready with his trusty bow and arrow. - -“Do you think you can hit him in the heart?” I said, excited-like, -squinting ahead to where the dinosaur was dragging his slimy body out -of the pond. - -Scoop Ellery’s face was rigid. - -“Got to,” he said, steady-like. “If I miss, he’ll turn on us and kill -us both.” - -“It’s a lucky thing for Red and Peg,” I said, thinking of my other -chums, “that they aren’t in it.” - -“They’ll miss us,” said Scoop, “if we get killed.” - -My thoughts took a crazy jump. - -“Why not aim for a tickly spot in his ribs,” I snickered, pointing to -the dinosaur, “and let him giggle himself to death?” - -“Sh-h-h-h!” cautioned Scoop, putting out a hand. “He’s listening. The -wind is blowing that way. He smells us.” - -“What of it?” I grinned. “We don’t smell bad.” - -“Keep still,” scowled Scoop, “while I aim.” - -Bing! went the bow cord. My eyes followed the arrow. It struck. The old -dinosaur angrily tooted his horn. But he didn’t drop dead. For his hide -was sixteen inches thick. - -We were lost! Scoop said so. And without arguing the matter I went -lickety-cut for a tree. - -“Come on!” I yipped over my shoulder. “He’s after us.” - -Up the tree I went monkey-fashion. And when I straddled a limb and -squinted down, there was the old dinosaur chewing my footprints off the -tree trunk. - -“How much longer have we got to live?” I panted. - -“Two minutes and fifteen seconds,” informed Scoop, who, of course, had -followed me into the tree. - -“I can’t die that quick,” I told him. “For I’m all out of wind.” - -But he was squinting down at the dinosaur and seemed not to hear me. - -“He’s got his trunk coiled around the tree,” he said. “Feel it shake! -He’s pulling it up by the roots.” - -“Wait a minute; wait a minute,” I said, motioning the other down. -“You’re getting things muddled. A dinosaur hasn’t got a trunk. This -must be a hairy elephant.” - -“Climb higher,” cried Scoop. “He’s reaching for us.” - -So up we went. - -All of a sudden I heard some one go, “Hem-m-m!” And what do you know if -there wasn’t another boy in the top of the tree! A stranger. About our -age. - -“You had me guessing,” he said, grinning good-natured-like. “I thought -at first you were crazy.” - -Staring, I finally managed to get my tongue unhooked. - -“Where’d you come from?” I bit off, letting my face go dark. For he -didn’t belong in our dinosaur game. And I wanted him to know it. - -Instead of answering, he inquired pleasantly: - -“Was that a cow that chased you up the tree?” - -“Huh!” I grunted, letting myself go stiff. “Do you suppose we’d run -from a cow?” - -“It made a noise like a cow,” he grinned, “when you shot it with your -toy bow and arrow.” - -“It’s a dinosaur,” I scowled. - -His grin spread wider. - -“And it was a dodo bird,” he said, “that picked me up by the seat of -the pants and dropped me in the top of this tree.” - -Well, that kind of took my breath. And I glared at him for a moment or -two. Then his steady, friendly grin put me to laughing. - -“I saw you coming through the woods,” he said after a moment. “I -couldn’t quite figure out what you were doing. So I climbed up here to -watch.” - -Something poked a green snout from the stranger’s right-hand coat -pocket. - -“Are you after frogs, too?” he inquired, following my eyes. - -“Frogs?” I repeated, staring harder at the squirming pocket. - -He pointed down to the pond in the ravine. - -“It’s full of frogs,” he told me. “Big fellows. See?” and producing an -old lunker of a bullfrog he held it up. - -“Hello!” he said. - -“K-k-kroak!” responded the frog. - -The boy laughed. - -“Perfect,” he said, patting the frog on the head. “Now say it in -Chinese. Hello!” - -“K-k-kroak!” - -The grinning eyes looked into mine. - -“Would you like to hear him say it in Yiddish?” - -“I’d like to make a meal of his fried legs,” I returned. - -“You can have him,” the other offered. Then, without another word, he -let himself down limb by limb, scooting in the direction of town, a -mile away. - -Scoop gave a queer throat sound and came out of his thoughts. - -“That’s the new kid,” he said. - -“You talk like you know him.” - -“I know of him. He belongs to the new family in the old Matson house. -Ricks is the name on the mailbox. There’s a man and a woman and this -boy in the family—only the woman is a Miss Polly Ricks, and not the -boy’s mother. The mother is dead, I guess.” - -Then my chum told me how his pa was the administrator of the Matson -estate; and, of course, it was through Mr. Ellery, a Tutter -storekeeper, that the new family had rented the long-vacant house where -Mr. Matson, a queer old man, had been murdered for his money. It is a -lonely brick house on the edge of town. The front yard is full of pine -trees, just like a cemetery. And when the wind blows the pines whisper -strange stories about the murder and about the vanished body. - -It is no place for people to live. Everybody in Tutter says so. And I -wondered why this new Ricks family had picked out such a lonely, spooky -home. - -It was a queer move for them to make. - -We talked it over and exchanged opinions on the way into town. And when -we came to the grove of pine trees, Scoop took me through a hole in the -hedge and pointed out a brand new lock on the barn door. - -A queer, droning sound weighted the air. I called the other’s attention -to it. - -“Machinery,” said Scoop, nodding toward the east wing of the big barn. -“Not farm machinery,” he explained, “but lathes for turning steel, and -drillers. Pa helped unload the truck.” - -“Mr. Ricks must be a machinist,” I said. - -“I have a hunch,” said Scoop, “that he’s an inventor.” - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER II - -THE TALKING FROG - - -The following Monday morning the new boy started to school, entering -our grade. And in the days that immediately followed I came to like Tom -Ricks a lot. For he was the right sort. And soon we were visiting back -and forth, playing in my yard one night and in his the next. - -Scoop, of course, shared in our games, as did Red Meyers and Peg Shaw, -my other chums. For I never would throw down an old friend for a new -one. And it was during one of our trips to the old Matson place that we -learned about the talking frog. - -For Mr. Ricks, an inventor as Scoop had surmised, was working on a very -wonderful radio toy. Tom called it an electro-mechanical frog. - -We had promised our new chum that we wouldn’t breathe a word about the -talking frog to any one else. For a Chicago radio company had spies -searching for Mr. Ricks. These people knew that the inventor was -working on a radio toy, and it was their evil intention to steal the -invention, the same as they had stolen a simplified radio transmitter -that Mr. Ricks had designed and built in his little Chicago workshop. -It was to save the new invention from being stolen from him that he was -now hiding in our inland town, where he could work undisturbed. - -“A Milwaukee company is interested in Pa’s invention,” Tom told us, -“and if he can make the frog say, ‘Hello!’ or make it repeat any other -single word, they’ll pay him twenty-five thousand dollars for the idea -and develop it in their laboratories.” - -Grinning, he added: - -“So you can see what I had in my mind that day in the tree. I -frequently get frogs for Pa, to guide him in tuning the tone bars. For -the toy, of course, must sound like a real frog or it won’t be a -complete success.” - -“And you say the mechanical frog actually talks?” said Scoop, who had -been eagerly taking in each word. - -“Sometimes it does,” said Tom. “But you can’t depend on it. You see it -isn’t perfected.” There was a short pause. “I tell you what: Come out -to-night after supper and I’ll try and coax Pa to let you see it. I’ll -explain to him that he can trust you to keep his secret.” - -“Hot dog!” cried Peg Shaw, thinking of the fun we were going to have -listening to the talking frog. - -This was on Friday. And directly after supper Scoop and I and Peg -headed for Tom’s house. Red couldn’t go. He had queer spots all over -his back. Not knowing whether it was scarlet fever or mosquito bites, -his mother was keeping him in the house until the doctor had seen him. - -“You fellows are lucky,” he told us, when we called for him. - -“You will be lucky,” his mother told him sharply, “if you escape an -attack of scarlet fever. For there’s dozens of cases over in Ashton. -And you were there last week.” - -“Aw!... I haven’t got a fever. Please let me go, Ma.” - -“You’ll go to bed,” his mother threatened, “if you don’t keep still.” - -We had met Aunt Polly in the times that we had been at Tom’s house, but -never had we seen Mr. Ricks until to-night. He was considerably taller -than his sister, and older, with stooped shoulders and faded blue eyes -that looked meekly at one over the top of small, steel-rimmed -spectacles. - -Tom introduced us. But he had to speak to his father several times and -shake him by the shoulder to make the old gentleman put aside his book. -It was a book on inventions, I noticed. - -“Oh, yes; yes, indeed,” said Mr. Ricks, vague-like, giving us a limp -handclasp without actually seeing us. “Very glad to meet you. Very -glad, of course. Um.... Now whar did I leave off?” and plunk! went his -nose into the big book. - -Later we came to know how very absent-minded he was, and how queer in a -lot of his actions; but I am going to tell you about it here, before I -go deeper into my story, else you might not fully understand what -follows. - -For instance, he never seemed able to quit thinking about his -inventions. Even while eating his meals an idea would come to him, and -there he would sit with his fork halfway to his mouth, his eyes making -invisible drawings of things in the air. And you would be talking with -him about the weather, or about fishing, and right in the middle of a -sentence he would mumble: “Now if I file the end sharp, I bet it’ll -work easier an’ won’t bind,” or, “Um.... I bet I’ve got one tooth too -many in that thar gear.” - -I guess he wouldn’t have known enough to stop working at mealtime and -bedtime if Aunt Polly, in her bustling capable way, hadn’t kept tab on -him. And he needed some one like that to give him sharp attention. For -I’ve seen him absent-mindedly hang his handkerchief on the towel rack -and stuff the towel in his pocket. And once, going to church, he got as -far as the front gate before his watchful sister discovered that he had -on one shoe and one slipper. Golly Ned! It would have been fun to see -him come into church dressed like that. - -Peg tells the story, which he made up, I guess, that one time when he -was eating breakfast at Tom’s house, Mr. Ricks absent-mindedly poured -the syrup down the back of his neck and scratched his pancake! - -To-night Aunt Polly bustled from window to window, drawing the shades. - -“Now,” she nodded sharply to the inventor, who was pottering at her -heels, book in hand, “you can bring it in.” - -The lowering of the window shades had filled me with uneasiness. For -the precaution suggested the near-by presence of possible prying eyes. -And I didn’t like to think of the shadowy pines as holding such hidden -dangers. - -Then my nervousness melted away in the moment that the talking frog was -placed on a small table in the middle of the room. Made of metal and -properly shaped and painted, it squatted five inches high, which was -considerably larger than a live frog, but it had to be oversize, Tom -explained, because of the many gears, magnets and tone bars that his -father had designed to go inside. - -We had our noses close. And no movement of the inventor’s escaped us as -he wound a spring here and turned a knob there. It was a pretty fine -invention I thought. And I realized that Mr. Ricks, with all of his -queer forgetful ways, was a very smart man. He was what you would call -a genius. I guess that is the right word. - -Presently the worker straightened, sort of satisfied-like, so we knew -that the frog was ready to perform. - -“Hello!” he said, talking into the green face, his chin thrust out. - -The vibration of his voice tripped the machinery and put the wheels -into motion. The big hinged mouth opened in a natural way. But other -than a dull rumbling of gears, no sound came out. - -“Jest you wait,” puttered Mr. Ricks. “I hain’t got it ’justed quite -right.” - -We watched him. - -“Hello!” he said, after a moment. - -“R-r-r-r!” responded the frog. - -Aunt Polly laughed good-naturedly. - -“Laws-a-me! It sounds as though it had a bad pain in its tin stomach.” - -“Indigestion,” grinned Peg, his big mouth stretching from ear to ear. - -“We should have brought along some charcoal tablets,” laughed Scoop. - -The disappointed inventor did some more puttering. But all that he -could get out of the tin frog was, “R-r-r-r!” - -“It did better than that last night,” Tom told his father. - -“I know it, Tommy. I know it. Um.... Calc’late the new tone bar that I -made to-day hain’t improved it none.” - -He puttered with the frog for maybe an hour. Finally Aunt Polly took up -her knitting and told him to put the frog in the kitchen cupboard. She -had noticed, I guess, that he was getting nervous. - -“Mebby,” he countered, fidgety-like, “I better put it in the barn.” - -I grinned. For I saw in a moment what he was up to. He wanted to keep -on tinkering, and he would have that chance if he could get the frog -into his workshop. - -But Aunt Polly read the other’s thoughts. - -“I said to put it in the kitchen cupboard,” she repeated firmly. - -The blue eyes offered meek protest. - -“It’ll be safer in the barn, Polly.” - -“It’ll be safe enough in the kitchen,” said Aunt Polly, jabbing with -her needles. - -“Yes, of course; of course. But I’ve got a burglar ’larm on the barn -door. Mebby, Polly——” - -“And I’ve got a burglar alarm on the kitchen door,” cut in Aunt Polly, -making her needles fly. - -A domino game failed to draw our thoughts from the talking frog; and -Tom told us how the Milwaukee company was planning to get out a -complete line of talking toys—this in the event that Mr. Ricks’ -experiments were successful. - -“It seems to me,” said Scoop, out of his thoughts, “that twenty-five -thousand dollars isn’t enough money for such a big idea.” - -“Twenty-five thousand dollars,” spoke up Peg, whose folks are poor, “is -a fortune, I want to tell you!” - -“Of course,” nodded Scoop. “But an invention like this ought to be -worth more than twenty-five thousand dollars to the man who thought it -up. A hundred thousand, I should say. Or half a million.” - -“I forgot to tell you,” Tom said, “about Pa’s royalty.” - -“Royalty?” I repeated. - -“It’s this way,” Tom explained. “Pa’ll get twenty-five thousand dollars -cash money for the idea; then the company will develop and apply the -idea, and Pa’ll get a royalty on each talking toy sold.” - -I asked what a royalty was. - -“It’s a written agreement,” Tom told me, “under which Pa’ll get a -certain part of every dollar that the company takes in. The money is -his pay, as an inventor, for letting them use his idea. For instance, -if they sell a million dollars’ worth of talking toys, Pa’ll get fifty -thousand dollars. That’s five per cent.” - -“Crickets!” I said, regarding my new chum with quickened interest. -“You’re going to be rich.” - -He sobered. - -“I hope so, Jerry. I’d like to know what it seems like to be rich. -We’ve been poor all my life. And I’ve got a hunch that Aunt Polly won’t -be able to stretch our money over very many more months. Yes, if Pa -doesn’t hurry up and make his frog talk, I suspect that we’re likely to -move over to the county poorhouse.” - -It was now after nine o’clock and time for Scoop and Peg and me to go -home. So we got our caps. But in the moment that we started for the -front door a fearful racket came from the kitchen. Bing! Crash! BANG! -It sounded as though a million tin pans had been upset in a heap. I -pretty nearly jumped out of my skin. - -“My burglar alarm!” screeched Aunt Polly, throwing her knitting into -the air. And like a flash she disappeared fearlessly into the hall, -heading for the back room. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER III - -AN UNKNOWN PROWLER - - -Squeezing the stutter out of my nerves, I followed Tom and my chums -into the kitchen. The back door was ajar. Some one had picked the lock. -But in opening the door the unknown prowler had not reckoned on Aunt -Polly’s home-made burglar alarm—a dozen or more pots and pans balanced -nicely on a wabbly stepladder. - -“Um....” mumbled Mr. Ricks, pottering into the room, book in hand. “Did -I hear a noise?” Looking over his glasses, he got his eyes on the pans -and stared at them blankly. “Now how did all them pans come to fall -down? An’ whar in Sam Hill did they fall from?” Mouth open, he stared -at the ceiling, moving in a small circle. - -Aunt Polly caught him as he stumbled over a pan. - -“Shut the door,” she told Tom crisply, “and lock it.” Then she took the -pottering inventor by the arm and led him from the room. “Go back to -your book,” she ordered, “We don’t need you here.” - -“But, Polly——” - -She got him out of the kitchen. Then she sort of went to pieces. - -“Oh, Tommy!” she cried, trembling, her eyes filled with fear. “It’s one -of Gennor’s spies. You know how they’ve been searching the country for -your pa. They’ve come to steal his invention. What shall we do?” - -“I wish I knew,” said Tom, looking dizzy. - -Scoop’s eyes were snapping. - -“Why,” he spoke up, taking the lead, sort of, “the thing for us to do -is to save the frog.” - -Aunt Polly gave a gesture of despair. - -“We might as well give up,” she cried, sinking into a chair. “For we -stand no chance against Gennor.” - -Scoop wanted to know who Gennor was. - -“Mr. Felix Gennor,” Tom informed, “is the president of the Gennor Radio -Corporation of Chicago.” - -“The name sounds big,” said Scoop. “He must have a lot of money.” - -“Millions,” informed Tom, gloomy-like. - -“Which means,” said Scoop, sizing up the situation in his quick way, -“that it’s going to be a hard fight to lick him.” - -Aunt Polly was wringing her hands. - -“We stand no chance,” she repeated, shaking her head. “For money always -wins out.” - -“Money won’t win out this trip,” declared Scoop. - -After a bit the conversation slowed up and we told Aunt Polly that she -had best go to bed and get some rest. - -Scoop did the talking. - -“You mustn’t worry,” he told her, as she started up the stairs with a -hand lamp, “for there’s no immediate danger. And by to-morrow morning -we’ll know what to do to save Mr. Ricks’ invention.” - -It was his scheme for the four of us to stand guard till daybreak. So, -when Aunt Polly and Mr. Ricks were in bed, I ’phoned to Mother, -explaining that I would spend the night with Tom. Then Scoop and Peg -’phoned in turn to their folks. - -Making sure that the doors and windows were locked, we took the talking -frog from the cupboard and buried it in a wooden box in the cellar’s -dirt floor. We intended, as guards, to see that no one entered the -house without our knowledge; but, as Scoop sensibly pointed out, it was -just as well to play safe and keep the invention under cover. - -In the next hour our leader sifted his thoughts for a plan to outwit -the Chicago manufacturer. And finally he waggled, as though having come -to certain satisfactory conclusions. - -“One time,” he said, “my Uncle Jasper invented a percolating coffee pot -and got it patented in Washington. The patent prevented any one else -from stealing his invention.... Is your pa’s talking frog patented?” he -inquired, looking into Tom’s face. - -“Of course not. It isn’t perfected yet.” - -“Everything seems to work all right except the tone bars.” - -“Yes.” - -“Well, let’s get a patent on the parts that work. For that is what -Gennor would immediately do if he got his hands on the frog. If we get -to Washington first with our patent application he’ll be licked.” - -Tom’s eyes snapped. - -“You’re right. I’ll tell Pa about it the first thing in the morning.” - -“Yes,” waggled Scoop, “your pa is the one to see about the patent. And -the sooner he starts for Washington the better. There’s a train into -Chicago at five o’clock. And from Chicago he can go directly to -Washington. The people in the patent office will tell him how to get -his drawings registered. And while he’s doing that, we’ll have some fun -with mister millionaire.” - -“A thing I can’t understand,” mused Tom, “is how Gennor traced Pa to -this town.” - -“Maybe,” I spoke up, giving Scoop and Peg the wink, “it was a ghost -that picked the lock, and not a spy as you suppose.” - -“Ghost?” repeated Tom, staring. - -“Mr. Matson’s ghost,” I followed up. - -“Who’s Mr. Matson?” he wanted to know. - -“Haven’t you heard about the murder?” I countered, surprised. - -He shook his head. - -“Mr. Matson,” I told him, “was a queer old codger. A puzzle maker. -Didn’t believe in banks. Kept his money in the house. One night robbers -came. The old man was murdered. But the body never was found. That’s -the strange part. The robbers either buried it or took it away with -them.” - -“Then how do you know there was a murder?” - -“Because the cellar stairs and the kitchen floor were covered with -blood. Big puddles of it. And the money and the ten-ring puzzle were -gone.” - -Tom scratched his head. - -“But I don’t get you,” he said, puzzled. “Even if there was a murder, -why should the old man’s ghost come here?” - -“Because,” I said, putting my voice hollow, “right here in this kitchen -is where they cut his throat. This was his home.” - -Tom’s eyes bulged. And noticing this, Scoop laughingly clapped a hand -on the frightened one’s shoulders. - -“Jerry’s trying to scare you, Tom. No one ever saw the old man’s ghost -around here.” - -“Old Paddy Gorbett did,” I reminded quickly. - -“Shucks! Any one who knows old Paddy always believes the opposite to -what he tells.” - -Tom shrugged and gave a short laugh. - -“I’ve read stories about ghost houses, but I never thought I’d live in -one.” - -“There’s no such thing as a ghost,” declared Scoop. - -“Of course not,” agreed Tom. “But just the same we had better keep this -story from Aunt Polly’s ears. It would make her nervous. And she has -plenty of worries as it is. If Pa goes to Washington, she won’t sleep a -wink till he gets back. She’ll imagine him getting into all kinds of -trouble.” - -We thought naturally that the mysterious prowler would make further -attempts to enter the house. But daybreak came without a single -disturbing sound. - -At four o’clock Tom awakened his aunt. She readily admitted to the -wisdom of getting the talking frog drawings registered in the patent -office at Washington; but the thought of sending her absent-minded -brother so far from home worried her. - -“I just know that something awful will happen to him,” she declared. - -But Tom won her over. And then between them they made the dazed -inventor understand what was expected of him. - -It was daylight when we went with Mr. Ricks to the depot. I was on -needles and pins, sort of, expecting any second to have a spy jump out -and grab the old gentleman before we could get him on the cars. -Therefore I drew a breath of relief when the train pulled out. - -But a shock awaited us when we ran up the path to the house. - -“He didn’t get the right papers at all,” Aunt Polly cried from the -front porch. “His drawings are in there on the table. And what he has -is a roll of my dress patterns.” - -Well, we were struck dumb, sort of. For, with Mr. Ricks aboard the -speeding train, what chance had we to exchange the useless dress -patterns for the needed drawings? None. Our helplessness made me sick. - -“He’ll discover the mistake when he gets to Washington,” Scoop said -finally, “and wire us. Then we can mail the drawings, registered. It -will delay matters; but it’s the best thing that we can do under the -circumstances.” - -“Tom’s pa never sent a telegram in all his life,” waggled Aunt Polly. -“He won’t know how.” - -Nevertheless a telegram came that afternoon. Scoop read it aloud. There -was a dead silence. Then Tom went in search of his relative. - -“Aunt Polly,” he said, “you’ve got to get ready for a trip.” - -“Laws-a-me!” gasped the old lady, suspecting the truth. “What awful -thing has happened to your pa?” - -“He took the wrong train out of Chicago. And how he ever happened to -get off at Springfield, Illinois, I don’t know. But he’s there—the -telegram says so. And the dress patterns have come up missing.” - -“Gennor’s work!” cried Aunt Polly, acting as though she was ready to -collapse. - -Tom nodded grimly. - -“Pa is no match for the crooks. And you’ve got to go to him and help -him. They won’t get the real drawings away from you. And you can stay -in Washington till the drawings have been registered in the patent -office.” - -“But why don’t you go?” Aunt Polly wanted to know, with a troubled -look. - -Tom regarded her steadily. - -“I have a hunch,” he said, “that I’m going to be needed here.” - -“But I don’t like to go away and leave you alone.” - -Scoop came into the conversation with an easy laugh. - -“Don’t let that worry you, Aunt Polly. For he won’t be alone. We’re -going to stand by him. Hey, gang?” - -“Easy,” said Peg. - -“How about you, Jerry?” - -“Easy,” I said, copying after Peg. - -I tried to act chesty about it. But I didn’t succeed very well. For I -was thinking about the man with the million dollars. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -WE TAKE THE FROG TO SCHOOL - - -Aunt Polly put her railroad ticket into her handbag. - -“Now,” she told Tom, fumbling nervously with the handbag’s metal clasp, -“try and keep yourself nice and neat while I’m away and wash behind -your ears and don’t be late to school and feed the canary and the -goldfish and wind the clock Sunday night.” - -“I’ll remember,” Tom grinned. - -“There’s plenty of baked stuff in the pantry and half of a ham and you -know how to fry potatoes and boil eggs. So I warrant you won’t starve. -But in lighting fires be careful with your matches and don’t burn down -the house.” - -Tom waggled, still grinning. - -“And feed the cat,” his aunt continued, “and don’t let the sun shine -through the windows on the parlor carpet and——” - -Here the train for Springfield rumbled into the station. - -“Good-by, Aunt Polly,” said Tom, as the excited little old lady went -briskly up the car steps. - -Pausing, she bent over and gave him a kiss on the mouth. Then her -forehead puckered. - -“There was something else I wanted to tell you,” she said, -thoughtful-like, “but it’s plumb slipped my mind.” - -“All aboard!” called the conductor. - -“Oh, yes,” screeched Aunt Polly, as the train got into motion, “it’s my -rubber plant. Water it every day and put dish water on it once a week -and——” - -In the silence that followed the train’s departure, Tom grinned at us -and drew a deep breath. - -“She forgot to tell me to keep the ice box door closed and not to let -the cat sleep on the parlor sofa.” - -Then he sobered. - -“But Aunt Polly’s all right. And I don’t want you to think that I’m -making fun of her. Ginks! I’ll miss her like sixty. And I’ll be glad -when this patent office business is over with so that she and Pa can be -home again.” - -As we turned to leave the station the Stricker gang scooted by us. We -haven’t any time for the Strickers. Bid and Jimmy are cousins and one -is just as mean and as tricky as the other. That part of Tutter beyond -Dad’s brickyard is called Zulutown, and it is in this tough -neighborhood that the Strickers and their followers have their homes. -Because we won’t do the mean things they do they have it in for us. - -“Aunty has gone away on the choo-choo,” hooted Bid, “and left her -’ittle boy home all alone.” - -“And she gave him a nice juicy kiss,” jeered Jimmy. - -“Right on the mouth,” another member of the gang put in. - -Tom took after them, chasing them away. - -It was darkening fast, so we started back to the brick house. First, -though, I ran home and explained the situation to Mother. She -immediately wanted to know why Tom couldn’t come to our house and stay. -I told her that it would be more fun living at his place—sort of like -camping. She shook her head and said that boys were queer creatures. - -“Did you know,” she told me, “that Donald Meyers is sick in bed?” - -“Scarlet fever?” - -“The doctor hasn’t said that it is scarlet fever—at least he hasn’t put -up a quarantine sign. But nobody is allowed to go into or out of the -house.” - -“Poor Red,” I murmured, sorry for my chum. - -Here the other fellows whistled to me, so I ran into the street. They -were talking about the sick one. - -“It doesn’t seem right,” said Scoop, “not to have Red with us.” - -“He’s ornery,” grunted Peg, “but when he isn’t around you miss him.” - -Hurrying, we shortly came within sight of the whispering pines. On the -moment they looked fearfully grim and spooky to me. I shivered a bit as -I followed my chums up the path. - -It came ten-eleven-twelve o’clock. - -“Midnight!” grinned Peg. “Now listen for the ghost.” - -I held my breath. In the deep silence I could hear the rubbing of my -fidgety fingers. Then from without the kitchen door came a faint pat! -pat! pat! Some one was crossing the porch on tiptoes. The doorknob -turned—slowly, with scarcely a sound. - -Gosh! I don’t mind telling you that I was scared stiff. - -“The spy!” breathed Scoop. - -Five-ten minutes passed. - -“He heard us in here,” said Tom, “and beat it.” - -Evidently this was the case. For the outside world within range of our -ears was a well of silence into daybreak. - -Tom got breakfast. And when the dishes were washed and put away, we -went outside and covered every inch of the yard. But the midnight -prowler had dropped no clews. - -We had dinner; then we played games in the front yard. Darkness came. -And again we heard the mysterious prowler on the back porch. But this -was the night’s only disturbance. - -Scoop, I noticed, was pressing hard on his thinker. - -“If ever there was a time when I wanted to skip school,” he said to us -at breakfast, “it’s to-day.” - -I knew what was worrying him. He was afraid that while we were in -school the spy would break into the unguarded house and dig up the -talking frog. - -Yes, it was risky leaving the frog in the house without a guard. We -talked it over. - -“If you don’t want to leave the frog here,” I said to our leader, “why -don’t you carry it along with you to school?” - -“It won’t go in my pocket.” - -“Put it in a lunch box. You can keep the lunch box in your desk. Miss -Grimes won’t know what you’ve got in it. She’ll think it’s full of -sandwiches and pickles.” - -Miss Grimes is our teacher. I suppose she’s all right. But I don’t like -her. She’s too cranky. - -We went to the cellar and dug up the talking frog. But before we put it -in the lunch box that Tom had provided we wound it up and turned the -small knobs the way we had seen Mr. Ricks do. - -“Hello!” said Scoop, grinning into the tin face. - -Nothing happened. He tried it again; then gave the frog a shake. - -“R-r-r-r!” rumbled the frog, waking up, sort of. - -“Let me do it,” I cried, pushing the others aside. Getting my mouth -down close, I yelled: - -“Rats!” - -“R-r-r-a-s!” said the frog. - -“Why,” said Tom, excited-like, “that’s the best it ever did.” - -“Maybe,” I said, with a snicker, “if we jiggle it some more it will -talk perfect.” - -“Nothing like experimenting,” grinned Scoop, and he gave the frog -another shake. - -“Rats!” he yelled. - -“R-r-r-a-t-s!” rumbled the frog, “R-r-r-a-t-s! R-r-r-a-t-s!” - -Scoop laughed. - -“Wait a minute; wait a minute,” he said, trying to hush the frog up. -“You’re talking out of your turn. You mustn’t say it more than once.” - -“R-r-r-a-t-s!” rumbled the frog. “R-r-r-a-t-s! R-r-r-a-t-s!” - -We pretty near died, we laughed so hard. Then the school bell rang and -we dumped the invention into the lunch box and started on the run for -the schoolhouse. And every time we jiggled the lunch box the frog would -rumble at us: “R-r-r-a-t-s! R-r-r-a-t-s!” - -“To-night,” grinned Scoop, “we’ll try it out on some hard words like -‘cat’ and ‘bat.’” - -I had to stay in at recess that morning. For there was a music memory -test and, as usual, I got the names of the pieces all mixed up. I’m no -good at music. - -Maybe all public schools haven’t music memory contests, so I’ll write -down what it is. You see, each room has a talking machine. And at the -beginning of the school year the board of education picks out twenty or -thirty records. Not easy pieces like, “Yes, We Have No Bananas,” but a -lot of hard truck that is called classical. These records are played -over and over again by the teacher. And at the end of the school year -we are supposed to be able to write down all of the names of the pieces -when the teacher plays them and give the names of the musicians who -made them up.... It’s all right for a fellow who has an ear for music. - -“Now,” Miss Grimes told me at recess, shoving some records at me, “here -are the first four pieces. Take them, one at a time, and play each one -over and over again till you know it.” Then she went out of the room, -closing the door behind her. - -It was fun at first. But I got sick of it. The old pieces were no good. -So I hunted up something snappy. A band piece with a lot of loud toots -in it. And at the first toot, what do you know if the tin frog didn’t -come to life! “R-r-r-a-t-s!” it rumbled in Scoop’s desk, sort of -muffled-like. Then the record gave another loud toot and the frog -sassed it back. Say, it was bully! There is some sense to that kind of -music. - -I took the frog out of the lunch box and put it on a chair in front of -the talking machine. Mr. Ricks had told us that it was the sound waves -that tripped the machinery inside of the frog. I don’t understand about -sound waves. But I saw right off that it was the loud toots that did -the business. And I decided to do some experimenting. - -Our talking machine has a cloth front where the music comes out. But -one day Bid Stricker skidded and rammed his elbow through the cloth, -breaking the bracketwork. And now I discovered that by making a -slightly larger hole in the cloth I could squeeze the frog inside. - -This worked fine. And I was having a high old time when the door opened -and in came Miss Grimes. I thought I’d catch it. But she was -complaining to another teacher about something and didn’t notice what I -was up to. Then the bell rang and the kids all came in. - -When school was called, Miss Grimes said to me: - -“How many times did you play ‘The Maiden’s Prayer’?” - -“Six times,” I guessed, wondering which one of the pieces was that. - -“And are you sure that you will recognize it the next time that you -hear it?” - -“Yes, ma’am,” I said, getting fidgety. What worried me was the talking -frog. It was still shut up in the talking machine. I was afraid that -something would happen. - -So I was glad when a knock sounded on the door. And who should come -walking into the schoolroom but old Deacon Pillpopper, the man who -invented the big community incubator that I told about in my first -book, JERRY TODD AND THE WHISPERING MUMMY. If you have read this book -you will remember that the Strickers locked me in the incubator, making -me think, through a trick note, that the stolen mummy was there. But I -got even with them in the end! - -We like the friendly deacon. For he’s kind of queer. He makes up -riddles and puzzles and on his visits to the school he springs the -riddles on us, often giving us money if we guess the answers. - -Miss Grimes was very polite to the visitor, for he is a member of the -county board or something. And directly after reading class she gave -him a chance to show off. - -“I can see, Mr. Pillpopper,” said she, smiling at the old gentleman, -“that the boys and girls are all on edge wondering if you have a few -new riddles.” - -And the deacon looked awfully pleased with himself, like a purring cat, -sort of, and said: - -“Um.... Kin I use your blackboard, Miss Grimes?” - -And she said: - -“Of course, Mr. Pillpopper; of course.” - -He went to the blackboard and drew a picture and said: - -“The moon’s got two eyes [he put in the eyes] a nose [he put in the -nose] and a big, round face,” and he drew a circle around the eyes and -the nose. Then he turned and squinted at us. “I’ve got a dime,” he -said, “fur the first b’y who kin do that jest like I done it.” - -Well, every kid in the room shot up his hand to get first chance; and -the lucky one went to the blackboard and drew the moon’s face and -turned to the deacon to thank him for the dime. But the old man -chuckled and shook his head. Then another kid tried it. And he didn’t -do it right. Every boy in the room tried it but me. Whatever the trick -was, no one caught on to it. I figured I’d be just as unlucky as the -rest. But I drew the eyes and the nose and the circle as best I could. -And what do you know if the deacon didn’t hand me the dime! I pretty -near fainted, I was so surprised. - -“You see,” he told the others, patting me on the head, “Jerry is the -only b’y in the room who used his eyes an’ noticed that I done it with -my left hand.” - -“But he’s left-handed,” Bid Stricker cried, mad as hops to think that I -had won the dime. - -At this the deacon scratched his head and looked kind of silly. - -He had another test for the girls; and when this was over, Miss Grimes -motioned to Amelia Didman to play a few pieces on the talking machine. -Amelia got the machine wound up and put the needle down. A familiar -toot jumped at me out of the hole in the cloth. And right off I knew -that I was in for trouble. - -If you can imagine the talking machine record and the tin frog fighting -each other tooth and nail, that is how it sounded. First the record -would sort of swell up and give an angry toot, as though it was -determined to make the frog back up and shut up. And then the frog -would dig in and screech: “R-r-r-a-t-s!” And that would make the record -madder than ever and it would stomp its front feet like a fighting bull -and give a still louder toot. And then the frog would lift itself onto -its toes and sass the other. Then they would clinch and knock out each -other’s false teeth and kick each other in the seat of the pants. - -The scholars were laughing fit to kill. Sort of dazed at first, Miss -Grimes’ face got red and she hurried to the talking machine to see what -was wrong. Then she gave an awful jump. For, as she leaned over the -machine, the record and the frog got a strangle hold on each other. -Thump! The record smashed the frog on the left ear. And when the frog -quit wabbling it gave the other a wallop on the snout. - -Being a member of the county board, the deacon tried awful hard to be -dignified and set a good example and not laugh. But when the record got -a smash on the snout that was too much for the old gentleman. He busted -right out. And you could hear him cackling above everybody else. - -“I guess,” said Miss Grimes, frosty-like, “that our talking machine -needs repairing,” and she shut it off and rapped for order. - -As I say, I had expected that I would catch it. But for once I was -lucky. And that noon Scoop and I and Tom waited around till the -teachers came out of the schoolhouse, then we slipped into the -schoolroom and got the frog. I suspect that it is a wonder to Miss -Grimes to this day what made her talking machine act up. For when the -man came to fix it, he could find nothing wrong with it except the hole -in the cloth. - -We didn’t take the frog to school that afternoon. We put it back in the -wooden box and buried the box in the cellar. For Scoop was convinced -that to leave it unguarded in the cellar was less of a risk than taking -it to school. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER V - -BUBBLES OF BEAUTY - - -Wednesday morning when we came into the school grounds a number of the -kids were yipping and kicking up their heels. Tom was the first one in -our gang to grab the good news that was going around among the -scholars. - -“Hot dog!” he cried. “Teachers’ convention. No school till next -Monday.” - -We were excited. And right away we began to plan our fun. - -“Let’s catch frogs,” suggested Scoop. “We can sell them and make some -money. For almost everybody likes fried frog legs.” - -So we got a bag and started out. First we tried our luck in the -millpond behind the brick house. But what frogs we saw there were small -and not worth catching. So we decided to go to the ravine where Scoop -and I had played dinosaur. - -“Risky” said Peg, reflective-like. - -“What’s risky?” inquired Scoop. - -“Leaving the talking frog without a guard.” - -“You’re right,” considered Scoop. He fished some matches out of his -pocket. “We’ll draw cuts,” he said, getting the matches ready. “The -short-match drawer will be the guard.” - -“That’s fair enough,” said Tom, drawing. - -I drew next, hoping that I would be lucky. I didn’t want to miss the -fun of going to the ravine. - -Peg got the short match. - -“I almost wish,” he said, making a wry face, “that I had kept my mouth -shut.” - -Scoop laughed. - -“We’ll be back by twelve o’clock. So be sure and have dinner ready for -us and don’t burn the coffee.” - -We started off, three abreast. But we hadn’t gone very far along the -country road before we came to a horse and buggy, drawn up in the shade -of a high hedge. It was the ricketiest buggy I ever set eyes on. The -wheels were warped out of true. They made the buggy look as though it -had a bad case of bowlegs. The leather top was cracked and shrunken out -of shape. - -And the horse! Good night! That horse was so skinny that you could have -used its ribs for a washboard. It was sway-backed and its hip bones -stuck up like chair knobs. It had a big head, and when I got a look -into its sober, forlorn-looking face, I had the uncomfortable feeling -that it was dying of a broken heart. I don’t know how old horses get to -be as a rule. But if some horses live to be fifty years old, this skate -was easily sixty-something. - -An oldish man was seated in the dilapidated buggy. He had some kind of -an iron jigger in his lap. And when he saw us he gave a start, as -though he had been caught doing something that he didn’t want us to -know about. Kerplunk! Quick as scat the iron thing disappeared under -the buggy seat. - -He was every bit as queer-looking as his old nag. Yes, sir, they were a -good pair. The long face that he had turned to us was thin, like a -sun-fish. The eyes were black, sort of restless-like, and set close -together. The head was bald on top. We could see that it was because -the man’s hat was parked on the buggy seat. He wasn’t fat. But he had -more stomach than he needed. The way it stuck out in front, like a -halved pumpkin, made me think of a lean boa constrictor that had -swallowed a dog. - -Well, we kind of stared at him, wondering who he was, and he, in turn, -squinted back at us. - -“Howdy, boys,” he smiled, friendly-like. - -“Howdy,” Tom returned. - -It struck me on the moment that my new chum’s voice sounded queer. I -wondered why. Turning to look at him, to read his thoughts, I found him -squinting hard at the old nag. As though he had seen it before and was -trying to puzzle out something in his head. - -“You boys must be out coonin’ chickens,” the stranger cackled, pointing -to the bag that I was carrying. - -“No,” I spoke up. “We’re planning to fill our bag with frogs.” - -“Frogs?” he repeated, looking at me questioning-like. - -“We’re going to sell the hind legs,” I explained, “and earn some -money.” - -“Um.... How would you like to work fur me? The three of you. Calc’late -you kin make a lot more money assistin’ me than you kin sellin’ frog -legs. I’ve got a real proposition, boys.” - -“What’s your line?” I grinned, looking at the four-legged washboard. -“Horse trading?” - -I was a little bit suspicious of this stranger. For one time an old -shyster came to Tutter and stung me for a dollar and a quarter for a -membership in his fake detective agency. Since then I have been -cautious about taking up with men I’m not acquainted with. - -Very gravely the old man reached under the buggy seat and brought out a -fancy sign. He hung the sign on the side of the buggy. It read: - - - BUBBLES OF BEAUTY - The Wonder Soap That - Makes All - Women Beautiful - - -I had heard of Ivory soap and Palmolive soap and two or three other -kinds of advertised toilet soap. But I never had heard of Bubbles of -Beauty. It must be something brand new, I figured. - -The man stood up in the buggy and kind of posed, one hand resting on -his over-size stomach and the other feeling around in the air above his -head. He looked awfully tall. With his lanky arms and legs and thin -face and pushed-out stomach he seemed to be all out of proportion. -Looking at him, I was reminded of the funny pictures in the Sunday -newspapers. - -“Boys,” he said, dramatic-like, “I ask you as a disinterested friend, -who has done the most for this country, Edison or Gallywiggle?” - -I grinned. - -“Henry Ford,” the old man questioned further, acting as though he was -preaching a sermon, “or Gallywiggle?” - -Amused, I wondered who Gallywiggle was. I had heard of Mr. Edison and -Mr. Ford, but I never had heard of a Mr. Gallywiggle. Gallywiggle! -Wasn’t that a name for you? - -“Mr. Gallywiggle,” the old man went on, sort of warming up, “Mr. -Mortimor Hackadorne Gallywiggle, the president of our company an’ the -friend of all humanity. The genius who has taken more warts from -women’s noses than all of the talkin’ machines an’ all of the -automobiles put together. The man who has made millions of sallow skins -pink. The man who has turned bushels of blemishes into barrels of -blushes. The man, folks, who spent fifty years of his noble, useful -life perfectin’ the formula of the greatest gift that science has ever -bestowed upon womankind. Bubbles of Beauty! The only toilet soap of its -kind in the world. An’ to-night, ladies and gents, to introduce this -marvelous beautifier into your homes—for one evening, folks, as a -special introductory offer—we are cuttin’ the price of this household -necessity down to only a dime, ten cents, a cake.” - -Suddenly his voice trailed away. And he looked sort of -embarrassed-like. I guess he had forgotten himself. I figured it out -that he was a soap peddler and was used to talking this way to -street-corner crowds. - -“Boys,” he said, holding our eyes with his own, “if you’ll work fur me -I’ll make you assistant beautifiers. I need you in my business. For -this thing of makin’ women beautiful is a big job. To do it thorough, -like our dear departed president, Mr. Gallywiggle, asked me to do, -personal, when he signed my territorial contract, I’ve got to have -plenty of capable help. Mebby you kin guess how turrible I’d feel to -learn that I had passed up some poor, unfortunate woman who wanted to -be beautiful an’ who was left homely simply because I was so rushed -that I didn’t git around to her with a cake of our marvelous Bubbles of -Beauty.” - -There was a worn black leather satchel in the buggy. He opened this -satchel and took out several small cardboard boxes. Removing the cover -of one of the pink boxes, he let us see that it contained three thin -cakes of soap. It was swell soap all right. I could tell by the smell. - -“As I started to say,” the soap man continued, “my name is Ajax -Posselwait. I’m on a’ advertisin’ tour through this section of the -country gittin’ folks acquainted with our marvelous Bubbles of Beauty, -the wonder soap that makes all women beautiful. To introduce the soap -into every home we are offerin’ three cakes for a quartex. In the -cities, where thousands of women, yes, millions of women, are usin’ -Bubbles of Beauty to keep beautiful with, the reg’lar price is fifty -cents. But it’s all a part of our sellin’ plan to put up with a loss in -gittin’ established in a new territory. We just charge up the loss to -advertisin’.” - -He cleared his throat. - -“Now, it ain’t goin’ to be no trick at all fur you boys, as assistant -beautifiers, to sell a box of our marvelous Bubbles of Beauty into -every home in this community. All you’ve got to do is to tell the women -how the soap improves the complexion, drives away blotches, transforms -wrinkles into dimples. An’ fur every quarter that you take in you keep -ten cents, which is your pay, an’ I git fifteen cents.” - -I looked at our leader. He had suggested catching frogs as a possible -way of earning money. And on the moment it seemed to me that selling -this man’s soap was a better money-making scheme than frog-catching. He -couldn’t gyp us, like the fake detective did, because we wouldn’t be -putting up any money. We were safe. - -“Um....” said Scoop, thinking. - -“You kin make a lot of money workin’ fur me,” the soap man put in, -persuasive-like. - -“Maybe,” said Scoop. - -“It ain’t ordinary peddlin’,” the man went on. “It’s what I call -artistic peddlin’. Yes, sir, an assistant beautifier must be an artist -to be a success at his job. Absolutely. He’s got to have enough tact to -sell somethin’ to a homely woman to make her beautiful without makin’ -her feel that he knows that she’s homely an’ needs what she’s buyin’ -from him. Doin’ a thing like that successfully is an art, just the same -as paintin’ beautiful pictures an’ carvin’ statues. It’s a job that any -boy kin be proud of. Fur it calls fur ability. An’, like I say, your -profit is a dime out of every quarter.” - -“Fifteen cents,” said Scoop, whose father is one of the shrewdest -business men in Tutter. - -“Ten cents,” said the soap man, scowling. - -“Not enough,” said Scoop. He took my arm and started off. “Come on, -gang,” he said. I tried to hold back, but he hissed in my ear to follow -him and keep still. He had a scheme, he said. - -“Um.... Just wait a minute,” the soap man called after us. - -We paused and looked back. - -“Fifteen cents,” said Scoop. - -The older one’s scowl deepened. - -“Plain robbery, that’s what! Calc’late though I’ve got to stand fur -it.” - -Scoop gave me a dig in the ribs with his elbow. - -“Fifteen cents,” he whispered in my ear, “is better than ten cents. I -figured that we could hook him for the extra nickel.” - -We went to the buggy and our new employer gave each of us four boxes of -soap, twelve boxes in all. “Bubbles of Beauty” was printed on the -covers in gold lettering. - -“You ought to have it all sold by noon,” he said. - -“Where’ll we find you when we want to settle up?” inquired Scoop. - -“You boys live in Tutter, I take it.” - -Our leader nodded. - -“As you go into town on this road,” the man pointed, “there’s a big red -brick house on the right-hand side with a yardful of pine trees.” - -“We know the place,” Scoop said quickly, giving Tom and me a look that -was intended to shut us up if we had any thought of saying anything. - -“Back of the brick house there’s a’ old mill.” - -“Yes,” said Scoop. - -“Well,” said the soap man, flapping the lines, “when you want to settle -up with me that’s where you’ll find me.” - -“In the old mill?” - -“Exactly. Git up, Romeo.” - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -THE MYSTERIOUS SOAP MAN - - -We watched the rickety buggy until it had disappeared in the direction -of town in a cloud of dust. - -Tom was the first one to speak up. - -“I was asleep at the switch,” he said, talking more to himself than to -us, “not to have suspected it.” - -Scoop turned quickly. - -“Not to have suspected what?” he inquired. - -“Last Friday noon,” our new chum told us, “that man came to our back -door peddling books. And that same night some one tried to steal the -talking frog. Don’t you see the connection, fellows? The soap man is a -spy of Gennor’s. That’s why he’s hanging around here, peddling books -one week and soap the next. His peddling is just a blind.” - -We were excited. - -“For almost two weeks,” Tom told us, “the sway-backed horse has been -stabled in the deserted mill. I saw it there and wondered whose animal -it was. But I never connected it with the book agent or suspected that -its owner, a spy of the enemy’s, was hiding in the upper part of the -mill, watching our house.” - -Scoop was thinking. - -“Posselwait,” he murmured, repeating the soap man’s name. “Ajax -Posselwait. Um....” He started down the road under a sudden idea. “Come -on, fellows,” he grinned. “We’ll go over to Mrs. Kelly’s house and sell -her some Bubbles of Beauty.” - -I laughed when he said that. For Mrs. Kelly, who lives in the country, -is one of the plainest-looking women you can imagine. She has a fat, -freckled face and red hair. Her husband, an old friend of Dad’s, was -killed in a runaway the year I started to school. - -“Do you think you can make her beautiful?” I inquired, grinning at our -leader. - -“I can’t see how we can possibly fail,” he laughed, “with such -wonderful soap to use on her as this.” He squinted into one of his pink -boxes and smelled of its contents. Then he added, serious: “Selling her -beauty soap, though, is the least important part of our errand. What I -want more than her money is a chance to peep into the old Matson -Bible.” - -This recalled to my mind that the murdered puzzle maker and Mrs. Kelly -had been related, which explains how the family Bible had come into her -possession, together with a number of other things that had belonged to -the old man. - -“What do you want to read her Bible for?” I inquired, puzzled to -understand our leader’s motive. - -“Well,” he countered, “if the miser had a brother, there would be a -record of it in the family Bible, wouldn’t there?” - -“A brother?” I repeated. - -“Jerry, didn’t you notice anything familiar about the soap peddler?” - -“No,” I said. - -“Then you better have your eyes tested,” grunted Scoop. “For he looks a -lot like old Mr. Matson. The same thin face; eyes set close together. -Don’t you remember how the old puzzle maker looked?” - -I did remember, for the miser had been dead but two years. And now that -Scoop had directed my thoughts to it, I could acknowledge to a distinct -resemblance between the soap peddler and the dead man. Certainly, I -checked off in my mind, the two men had the same kind of shifting, -close-set eyes. - -“But the soap man’s name is Posselwait,” I said, bewildered. - -“It’s no trick,” said Scoop, “for a man engaged in crooked work, as -this man is, to change his name.” - -“You think his real name is Matson?” - -“It isn’t impossible. Certainly he looks enough like the dead puzzle -maker to be his brother.” - -“Why do you call the murdered man a puzzle maker?” Tom spoke up. - -“Because,” informed Scoop, “puzzle making was his hobby. A queer old -duck, he liked to stump people with original conundrums and puzzles. He -was smart about it, too. Just before he was murdered he made a ten-ring -wire puzzle that no one could solve but himself. Pa tried it. So did -Jerry’s pa and half of the men in our town. It was some puzzle, I want -to tell you! After the old man had been murdered, people tried to find -the ten-ring puzzle. But it had disappeared along with the old man’s -money. And it hasn’t been seen or heard of to this day.” - -“Maybe,” said Tom, using his thinker, “the puzzle had something to do -with the murder.” - -Scoop stared, his jaw sagging. - -“Why!... No one ever thought of that!” - -“Queer,” I spoke up, still bewildered, “that the murdered man’s brother -should be a spy of the Chicago manufacturer’s. Maybe we’re mixed up on -that point.” - -“Not on your life,” waggled Tom. “I know that the soap man is a spy. -For if he isn’t, why should he be hiding in the old mill?” - -I shrugged. - -“Search me,” I said. - -“His main reason for being in the neighborhood,” Tom went on, sure of -himself, “isn’t to make women beautiful. Not so you can notice it! The -spiel he gave us about his wonderful soap was bunk, and nothing else -but. He can’t string me. For I know that it takes more than soap to -drive away warts and things. His soap may be good, but it won’t do all -of the wonderful things that he claims for it.” - -Scoop grinned. - -“We can find out how good the soap is by using it on Mrs. Kelly.” - -“If it makes her beautiful,” I laughed, “we ought to get a dollar a -cake for it.” - -“Easy,” waggled Scoop, his eyes dancing. - -He screwed up his forehead. - -“Fellows, it doesn’t make any difference to us whether the soap will -make women beautiful or not. We’re going to peddle it just the same. -For we’ve got to keep an eye on the soap peddler until we get word from -Washington and know for sure that the talking frog drawings have been -registered and that everything is safe for us. By working for mister -spy as assistant beautifiers, we will be able to camp on his trail and -no questions asked. See?” - -There was sense in that all right. - -On our way to Mrs. Kelly’s house we came to the Pederson farm. Mr. and -Mrs. Orvil Pederson are Norwegians. When they talk English they get -their words twisted up. - -“Well,” I grinned, “if we’re going to do any beautifying this morning, -we might as well start in here.” - -“Sure thing,” laughed Scoop. He patted me on the back. “You’re a good -talker, Jerry. Go ahead and show your stuff.” - -The other fellows followed me to the porch and I knocked, chesty-like, -on the kitchen door. Mrs. Pederson was cooking something that smelled -awfully good. It was a warm September day. When she came to the door -her face was two shades redder than a ripe tomato. Her nose was red, -too. She didn’t look very beautiful. - -Taking a cake of Bubbles of Beauty from a box, I began: - -“Mrs. Pederson, your face tells me that you haven’t been using the -right kind of toilet soap.” I showed her the cake in my hand. “This -kind of soap,” I told her, “will make you beautiful.” - -“What?” she cried, in a shrill voice. “Is it so ugly that I am in my -face that you should come here to tell me about it in my own house like -a young smart aleck?” - -I saw that I had made a bad start. - -“I mean,” I said quickly, “that you will become even more beautiful -than you are if you will use our marvelous Bubbles of Beauty instead of -just ordinary toilet soap. Bubbles of Beauty,” I recited, “has taken -more warts from women’s noses than all of the automobiles and talking -machines in the world. It changes wrinkles into dimples; blemishes into -blushes; makes sallow skins pink.” - -You see, I have a good memory! - -“Mrs. Pederson,” I went on, getting in some of the soap man’s gestures -as I recited his street-corner speech, “let me ask you as a -disinterested friend, who has done the most for this country, Mr. -Edison or Mr. Pollywiggle?” - -“Gallywiggle,” Scoop hissed into my ear. - -“Mr. Ford,” I went on, “or Mr. Gallywiggle?” - -My customer blinked her eyes and looked dizzy. - -“Mr. Mortimor Hackadorne Gallywiggle,” I recited, using my hands, “the -president of our company, the friend of all human beings. The man who -has turned bushels of blemishes into barrels of—of——” - -“Blushes,” prompted Scoop, and I could hear him giggling. - -Mrs. Pederson opened the door. I thought that she wanted to take a -close look at my soap. So I held it out to her, telling her how it took -Mr. Gallywiggle, the friend of humanity, fifty years to learn how to -make. I told her how wonderfully beautiful she would be when she had -used the new toilet soap for a few days. I told her a lot of things. I -guess I told her too much! - -Swish! Bang! Down came a broom on my head. It made me see seventeen -million stars. I was too dazed in the moment and too surprised to run -away. I was too dazed even to understand what she was screeching at me -as she jabbed me in the stomach with the broom. Scoop saved my life by -dragging me down the porch steps. - -When I got my senses back, sort of, I was standing in the middle of the -country road. - -“Anything knocked out of kilter, Jerry?” Scoop inquired, grinning. - -“I’m about two inches shorter,” I said, feeling of my neck and kind of -screwing my head around. - -“She gave you some awful wallops.” - -I admitted it. - -“She had no right to do it,” Scoop went on, his face darkening. “It -wasn’t fair. She might have been ladylike and told you to go away if -she wasn’t interested in your soap. Your ma and my ma wouldn’t have -done a trick like that. No ladylike woman would.... She needs a good -lesson,” he waggled. - -“Go up to the door and scold her,” laughed Tom. - -“Better than that,” said Scoop, “I’m going to turn the tables on her -and make her coax me to sell her a cake of my soap.” - -I had a picture of him doing that! - -“If you try it,” I said, “you better make out your will before you -start in.” - -He grinned at me. - -“Jerry, ol’ pal, I don’t want to hurt your feelings or knock on your -system, but I’ve got a hunch that your selling spiel needs polishing -up. It’s—— Well, to use the soap peddler’s expression, it isn’t -artistic. It lacks tact.” - -That made me hot. - -“I hope that she doesn’t get rheumatism in her arms,” I shot at him, -“when she starts after you with her broom.” - -I watched him saunter down the farmhouse lane. Then I sat down on a big -rock and waited for Mrs. Goliath to get into high gear with her broom. -My head hurt something fierce. But I grinned, notwithstanding. Oh, boy, -how I grinned! He’d catch it. I was glad. For he was acting altogether -too chesty. He needed taking down a peg or two. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -WHAT SCOOP DID - - -I imagined that I could feel the bump on my head getting bigger and -bigger as I sat on the rock with my cap in my lap and my four boxes of -Mr. Gallywiggle’s beauty soap in my cap. - -And when I thought of how the bump came to be there, so big and -painful, I said to myself, in just anger over Mrs. Pederson’s -unwarranted attack, that I hoped that she would get her pay for banging -me up. - -For one thing, I hoped that she would become homelier and homelier. She -could become as homely as an old mud fence and I wouldn’t let her have -a single cake of my beauty soap. No, I wouldn’t! She could stay homely -for the next million years for all I cared. I’d let some other woman -have my soap to get beautiful with—some deserving woman who was kind to -boys and used them in the way that boys should be used—good boys, I -mean, like myself. - -Then I quit grouching in my mind, sort of, to watch Scoop. He was close -to the farmhouse porch, where Mrs. Pederson was still standing, broom -in hand, I didn’t want to miss the fun of seeing her land on him. -Pretty soon, I told myself, he would be yelping for help. I grinned, -forgetful of my bump, in the thought of it. - -“Good morning, Mrs. Pederson,” I heard him say. My, he was polite! His -voice was all honey and cream. I got up and went closer. - -There was a flower bed beside the porch. He let on as though he was -awfully surprised and tickled to find the flower bed there. From his -actions you would have thought that a flower bed—this flower bed—was -the most wonderful and the most important thing in the world. - -He ran over and got down on his knees and began touching the flowers as -though he was in love with them. He stuck out his nose and smelled of -the blossoms with his eyes squinting into the sky. I could imagine from -the expression on his face that he was seeing angels. But when I looked -up all that I saw was a crow. - -“Such beau-utiful geraniums,” he gurgled, letting the word “beautiful” -sort of string out, as though it was hard for him to bite off some of -the letters. “My,” he said, “it must take a lot of skill and a lot of -patience to raise such beau-utiful flowers. Ma says it’s a knack. She -can’t raise sunflowers, hardly. Isn’t this a Martha Washington?” - -“Um....” said Mrs. Pederson, thawing out, sort of. - -“And I do declare!” Scoop gurgled, acting as though he had just -discovered a diamond mine. “If here isn’t a rose geranium—a perfect -specimen. Why, it’s got four buds on it! And just look at this -blossom!” He raised his eyes. “Mrs. Pederson,” he said, sober, “you -ought to go into the flower business. Why, the way you can make flowers -grow you’d become rich and famous in no time at all.” - -The flattered owner of the flowers left her broom on the porch and came -down the steps. Pretty soon she was on her knees beside the flower bed, -jabbering about the flowers as though she was crazy. Scoop was -jabbering too. It was very disgusting to me. For I saw what he was up -to. He was plastering her with soft soap, to get her dime, and she -didn’t have sense enough to realize it. - -Well, they kept on talking about what a wonderful flower-raiser she -was, and how it was a gift, just like writing poetry, only she was -doing the most of the talking. Scoop just put in a word now and then to -keep her tongue in action. - -Pretty soon he removed the covers of his four soap boxes. Counting the -cakes of soap, three cakes to a box, he next dumped the cakes onto the -grass and counted them. Mrs. Pederson stopped talking to watch him. He -counted the cakes a third time. Then he searched his pockets. - -“Now,” he said to himself, in a worried voice, “doesn’t that beat the -Dutch?” - -“You lose somedings?” inquired Mrs. Pederson, inquisitive-like. - -She reached down to pick up one of the cakes of soap, curious, I -imagine, to feel of the soap and to smell of it, as I have seen women -do in the ten-cent stores. But Scoop quickly held out his hand and -headed her off. Then he took his handkerchief and flicked imaginary -particles of dust from the soap cake. - -“This cake,” he told the flower raiser, “is the one that I’m saving for -Mrs. Tompkins to look at,” and he gave it another careful dusting, -squinting at it critical-like, his head cocked on one side. Then he -carefully dusted each cake in turn, taking a lot of time. “This one,” -he pointed out, “I’m saving for Mrs. Morrisy to look at and this one -for Mrs. Smith and this one for Mrs. Gronke and this one for——” Well, -in short, he named over practically all of the women in the -neighborhood, customers of his father’s grocery store. - -Mrs. Pederson was busting with curiosity. She showed it in her actions. -She was thinking to herself, I imagine, that here was something going -on in the neighborhood that she didn’t know anything about. Probably -she felt slighted. - -“What ’tis?” she inquired shrilly, a queer eager look in her eyes. - -But Scoop was busy counting his soap and gave her no attention. - -“I guess,” he said, still worried, “that I must have made a mistake. I -figured that I had an extra cake for you, Mrs. Pederson. But instead of -having twelve cakes, the number that I started out with, I can count -only eleven.” - -The woman squinted eagerly at the cakes of soap that had been spread on -the grass in front of her. - -“A new kind of soap?” she inquired. - -“Bubbles of Beauty,” recited Scoop, “the wonder soap that makes all -women beautiful. Of course,” he added, “to a beautiful woman this soap -would be of no more use than a pair of skates would be to an Arab in -the Sahara Desert. But take a plain woman like—er—Mrs. Townsend——” - -“Yes,” said Mrs. Pederson quickly. - -“And Mrs. Morrisy,” continued Scoop, naming another woman who lived in -the neighborhood. - -“Yes.” - -“Unfortunately,” said Scoop, “they aren’t beautiful. Still, they want -to be beautiful. Every woman does, I imagine. So you can imagine how -they will welcome our Bubbles of Beauty. But you mustn’t repeat what I -am telling you, Mrs. Pederson. Oh, no! For your neighbors would be as -mad as hops to have the story get out. They will want to have the -source of their sudden beauty kept a secret. Don’t you see?” - -“Oh, yes,” said Mrs. Pederson. - -Scoop again searched his pockets. - -“It gets me,” he said, puzzled, “what I did with that extra cake—the -one that I was saving for you.” He counted the cakes on the grass. And -every time that his finger moved Mrs. Pederson’s eyes moved with it. -She had her nose so close to the soap that it was a wonder to me that -she kept her balance and didn’t fall forward on her face. - -“I was going to let you have a cake,” said Scoop, “but you can see for -yourself that I have only enough to go around. Of course,” he added -quickly, “I realize that you haven’t any use for the soap yourself. -It’s only for women who aren’t beautiful. But I thought that you might -know of some poor, unfortunate woman who has been homely all her life, -with a sallow skin and warts and blemishes and wrinkles and——” - -“Yes,” cut in Mrs. Pederson. - -I began to think that “yes” was all she knew how to say. - -“Considering what it does,” said Scoop, “the soap is very cheap at ten -cents a cake, or three cakes for a quarter. I’m sorry, Mrs. Pederson, -that I haven’t any extra cakes. I know how disappointed you are. No -doubt you are thinking of some unfortunate woman friend who has warts -and wrinkles; and, in your kind-hearted way, you would give anything, -almost, to be able to send this unfortunate friend a cake of our -marvelous Bubbles of Beauty, which has the directions for its proper -use printed on the bottom of each box. See, Mrs. Pederson?” and he -showed her the printing. “I’ll be over this fall,” he concluded, “for -the geranium slips that you promised me.” - -He slowly gathered up the soap, patting each cake, sort of, as though -it was very dear to his heart. And he smelled of each cake and waved it -under Mrs. Pederson’s nose so that she could smell of it. - -Suddenly he straightened and gave a glad cry. - -“Why!... I know where my extra cake is.” He jerked off his cap and -there was the lost cake on top of his head. He must have placed it -under his cap while I was sitting on the rock. - -Mrs. Pederson reached quickly for the soap. - -“It will be ten cents,” Scoop told her, stepping back. - -She hurried into the house and came out with her pocketbook. - -When we were in the road, our leader looked back at the farmhouse and -laughed. - -“That’s the time, Mrs. Pederson,” he said, “that we came out ahead.” - -“Why didn’t you sell her a couple of boxes?” Tom inquired, -disappointed. - -But Scoop shook his head. - -“No. That wasn’t a part of my scheme. As a matter of fact I took an -unfair advantage of her in selling her the one cake. I pretended. And -that isn’t good salesmanship. But you know why I did it.” He looked at -me and grinned. “Cheer up, Jerry. Watch how I do it. Then you’ll be -more successful next time.” - -He was acting chesty again. It got under my skin. A fellow hates to be -as unlucky as I was. Mrs. Pederson had whanged me on the head with a -broom when I had tried to sell her a cake of beauty soap. And he had -hooked her for a dime, just as easy as pie. - -“You talk as though you know a lot about salesmanship,” I spit out, -wanting to pick on him in my grouch. - -“I know,” he said, waggling, “that good salesmanship is honest -salesmanship. For Pa says so.” - -“Huh!” - -He grinned at me in a tantalizing way. - -“Jerry, you might make a good wheelbarrow inspector on a ditching -crew—something that doesn’t require any skull practice. But you haven’t -the necessary talent for soap peddling.” - -“You hate yourself!” - -“A thing you don’t understand,” he added, acting big, “is human -nature.” - -“I don’t know how to be an old soft soap slinger, either,” I shot at -him. - -It isn’t in me to get mad and stay mad. So pretty soon I got over my -grouch. Anyway, I admitted to myself, Scoop, with all of his conceit, -was deserving of some praise. For he had turned a neat trick, -succeeding where I had failed. - -I know how to be fair. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -IN THE OLD MILL - - -On the way to Mrs. Kelly’s house we stopped at the Gronke farm and -talked the housekeeper into buying a box of our beauty soap. At the -next farm we sold a box to Mrs. Smith, though it took an awful lot of -persuasion. At the third farmhouse we were turned down cold. Our beauty -soap, Mrs. Morrisy told us, uninterested, was a fraud. - -It was now after eleven o’clock by Scoop’s watch. - -“We’ve got to snap into it,” he said, “if we expect to get back to town -in time for dinner.” - -So we speeded up. And coming to Mrs. Kelly’s house, we passed quickly -through the gate and followed the cinder path to the kitchen porch. - -But no one came to the door when we rapped. - -“Dog-gone!” growled Scoop. “All this walk for nothing.” - -“Don’t overlook the fact,” I laughed, “that we have sold seven cakes of -beauty soap. Our time in coming here hasn’t been wasted.” - -“Just the same,” said Scoop, “it’s a disappointment to me not to find -Mrs. Kelly at home. I wanted to see her Bible and ask her some -questions. For it’s important, I think, to find out all we can about -the queer soap man.” - -There was a short silence in which our leader thought of the money that -we had taken in and counted it. - -“Sixty cents. We’ll stop and settle up with the soap peddler as soon as -we get back to town.” - -“What’s the rush?” I inquired. “Why not sell the rest of our soap and -then call on him?” - -“The oftener we stop and talk with him,” said Scoop, in good wisdom, -“the more we’ll be likely to find out.” - -The old mill that I have mentioned in my story is a part of the Matson -property and is situated directly behind the brick house where Tom -lives. In his younger days Mr. Matson used to run the mill himself, -grinding wheat and corn and buckwheat for the farmers. But he neglected -his business after his wife’s death. In consequence his trade dropped -off. Then, over a period of years, the mill was still. The machinery -rusted and became worthless and the wooden water wheel rotted to -pieces. Instead of taking care of his property, as any sensible man -should have done, Mr. Matson did nothing but work on puzzles. - -Just before the murder the mill was gutted of its worthless machinery. -A junk man bought it, I believe. When the machinery had been removed, -the stone building’s doors and windows were boarded up. Mr. Matson did -the job himself. Signs were then posted at the mill’s approaches -warning the public to keep away. But it wasn’t very long before the -Tutter kids, including myself and my chums, contrived a way of getting -into the forbidden mill. It was a peachy place to play bandit. Then -came the murder. We had free run of the mill after that. And to let in -more light we took down the most of the boards that had been nailed -over the doors and windows. - -You will know that Mr. Matson was indeed a queer old man when I tell -you that he built an office, a small room with windows on all four -sides, in the very top of his mill. To get to it one had to climb two -flights of stairs. - -Coming into the edge of town, Tom went home to help Peg get dinner -while Scoop and I circled to the right to the mill pond. The mill yard -was a tangle of weeds and underbrush. Here we found Romeo, the soap -man’s skinny horse, nibbling at the wilted leaves of a squatty elm -tree. The horse gave us a mournful look as we approached, then turned -its head away and proceeded sorrowfully with its dinner of elm leaves. - -“Poor old nag,” murmured Scoop, giving the hungry horse a sympathetic -eye. “I’m going to bring it some oats.” - -Entering the mill, we found the soap man cooking something in a dirty -kettle over an old oil stove. - -“Howdy, boys,” the cook greeted, stirring the bubbling contents of the -kettle to keep the stuff from burning. - -Scoop jingled the coins in his pants pocket. - -“We’ve come to settle up,” he informed. - -“Just wait a minute,” the old man said quickly. He lifted the kettle to -one side, away from the smoking flame, and wiped his sticky hands on -his pants. “Got it all sold?” he inquired, and there was a look in his -thin face, a gluttonous, hungry look, that made me think of a starving -wolf. - -“Not all of it,” returned Scoop. - -The thin face showed disappointment. - -“How much did you sell?” - -“Two full boxes and a separate cake,” informed Scoop. “Here’s your -twenty cents out of the fifty cents that we got for the two boxes. -We’ll split the dime fifty-fifty.” - -“Poor,” complained the old man, giving us a dark, dissatisfied look. -“Awful poor. Evidently you boys hain’t as smart as I took you to be. -Fur I figured that you’d sell at least ten boxes.” - -“Give us time,” said Scoop. “We’ve got to learn how to do it.” - -“You’re goin’ to keep on, hey?” - -“Of course.” - -“The other boy, too?” - -He meant Tom. - -“Sure thing,” nodded Scoop, “We’re going to work in town this -afternoon. We ought to sell twenty-thirty boxes.” - -Again I was reminded of a wolf by the greedy light in the old man’s -close-set eyes. - -“Good!” he said, licking his lips. “Good!” - -Scoop squinted around the big empty room. His eyes took in the heavy -overhead beams and the cobwebby stone walls. - -“How did you happen to find this place?” he quizzed. - -“I’m thinkin’ of buyin’ it,” the old man joked, “an’ havin’ it -remodeled into an apartment buildin’. Don’t you think it’d make a swell -home fur me?” - -“Well,” said Scoop, noticing, I guess, that the other hadn’t answered -his question, “if you decide to live here you’ll have some fine -neighbors.” He pointed to the near-by brick house, visible through the -open door. “I suppose you know who lives there.” - -A queer, dark look flashed into the old man’s face. It was there for an -instant; then it was gone. - -“I hain’t interested in inventors,” he muttered. He got his black -satchel. “How many more boxes of soap be you boys wantin’ to take with -you?” - -“Oh, fifteen or twenty,” said Scoop. “Do you sleep here?” - -“I’ve got some blankets upstairs.” - -“On the third floor?” - -The old man nodded. - -“That’s the office,” said Scoop. - -“Office?” - -“The man who used to own this mill,” explained Scoop, “built the little -room on the third floor for an office. A queer place for an office. -Don’t you think so?” - -“Here’s your soap.” - -“Are you going to be in town very long?” - -“That all depends on how much stuff I sell.” - -“Soap?” - -“Of course. Soap sellin’ is my business.” - -“Why don’t you sell books? You’d earn more money.” - -“Sonny, let me tell you somethin’—keep away from books if you ever -start peddlin’ on your own hook. Fur they hain’t no money in lit’ature. -I’ve tried it, an’ I know what I’m talkin’ about.... Now git.” - -“You didn’t find out very much,” I grinned at Scoop when we were -outside. - -“I found out all that I expected to find out,” he returned, satisfied. -He looked back at the soap man, who was standing in the mill doorway. -“A spy, all right. His face gave him away when I mentioned Mr. Ricks. -Didn’t you notice, Jerry? And, just as Tom has suspected, he’s doing -his spying on the brick house from the office windows.” There was a -moment’s pause. “Book peddler—soap peddler—spy,” murmured Scoop. “A -queer man and a crooked man. We’ve got to keep our eyes on him.” - -That afternoon Tom stood guard in the brick house while the rest of us -peddled soap, each on a different street. - -“How’s Red?” I inquired of Mrs. Meyers, when she had come to the front -door of her house in response to my ring. - -“We’re keeping him in bed. But he doesn’t seem to be very sick. So with -plenty of pie and ice cream,” she joked, “we hope to pull him through.” - -“Has he still got spots on his back?” - -She nodded. - -“What he needs,” I told her, as a quick-minded salesman, “is a cake of -our beauty soap.” - -“Beauty soap?” she repeated. - -I held up one of my pink boxes. - -“Bubbles of Beauty,” I recited, “the wonder soap that makes all women -beautiful. It cures warts and blemishes,” I added, “so it ought to be -good for blotches. Don’t you think so?” - -She laughed. - -“Jerry, where in the world did you get this soap?” - -I told her about the old soap man in the deserted mill. - -“I’ve sold six boxes,” I bragged. - -“To women?” - -“Sure thing,” I grinned. “You better buy a box, Mrs. Meyers. Of -course,” I added quickly, “I realize that you don’t need it yourself, -for you are beautiful already. But you can use it on Red.” - -“On his back?” - -“Well,” I laughed, with a picture in my mind of Red’s homely face, “it -won’t do any harm if you use some of it on the roof of his nose. For -it’s good for freckles.” - -She bought a box. And when I was making change the Stricker gang came -into sight in the street. - -“See how pretty he is!” Bid hooted, pointing me out to the other -fellows. - -“Why shouldn’t he be pretty?” Jimmy yipped. “He uses Bubbles of -Beauty.” - -“Beat it,” I told Bid, scowling, “or the first thing you know I’ll step -on you and bend you out of shape.” - -I met Scoop on the corner. He was grinning and happy. - -“How’s business, Jerry?” - -“Fine and dandy,” I told him. “I’ve sold seven boxes.” - -“Hot dog!” he cried. “I’ve sold nine.” - -“Let’s knock off,” I suggested, “and call it a day.” - -We picked up Peg in a candy store on Main Street. - -“What do you know, fellows?” he grinned, a jawbreaker in each cheek. “I -sold a box of beauty soap to Miss Prindle!” - -Maybe you remember Miss Prindle, the Tutter dressmaker. I told about -her in my book, JERRY TODD AND THE ROSE-COLORED CAT. She is the woman -who owned the crab-apple marmalade that our cats got into. We don’t -like her. None of the Tutter kids do. She’s too cranky. You should hear -her go for us if we touch her fence or go in her yard! Wough! - -“Does she think,” laughed Scoop, “that the soap will make her -beautiful?” - -“Of course,” grinned Peg. “What do you suppose I sold it to her for?—to -trim petticoats with?” - -We laughed. For it struck us as being funny that Miss Prindle, one of -the homeliest women in Tutter, had spent her money for a box of Peg’s -soap in the hope that it would make her beautiful. She had about as -much chance of becoming beautiful as Mr. Ricks’ talking frog had of -growing whiskers. - -Our big chum had sold eight boxes of soap. This gave us a total sale of -twenty-four boxes. When we put our money together we had an even six -dollars. Two dollars and forty cents of this belonged to the soap man. -The balance, three dollars and sixty cents, was ours. - -“To-morrow,” planned Peg, “we ought to sell at least fifteen dollars’ -worth.” - -“We’re going to be rich,” I laughed, contented in our success. - -“Let’s look at it the other way,” grinned Scoop. - -“What do you mean?” I said. - -“Think of the good that we are doing. That, my boy,” and he put his -hand on my head in a fatherly way, “is vastly more important than the -money part.” - -“Scoop, the preacher,” laughed Peg. - -“Ours,” preached Scoop, getting in some of the soap man’s fancy -gestures, “is a very noble work. We are bringing beauty, and with it -happiness, into the starved and discouraged lives of countless -sad-hearted, homely women.” - -“Here,” Peg offered, “take this jawbreaker and shut up.” - -“All the same,” I grinned, wanting to help the fun along, “the women -who bought our soap are going to be very grateful to us.” - -“Especially Miss Prindle,” said Scoop, sucking on the jawbreaker. “I -can imagine how grateful she will be to Peg when she looks into her -mirror to-morrow morning and finds a Mary Pickford face smiling back at -her.” - -We were joking of course. We had no idea that the soap would actually -make women beautiful. It didn’t seem possible. - -But it was good soap. We had tried it out. And in selling it we felt -that our customers were getting their money’s worth, even though they -didn’t get any beautifying results from its use. - -“After supper,” Scoop planned, “we’ll call at the mill and give the -soap man his two dollars and forty cents.” - -“And get our soap for to-morrow’s business,” said Peg. - -“Exactly.” - -We stopped at Scoop’s barn and got a small bag of oats for Romeo. Then -we hurried in the direction of the brick house, where Tom was guarding -the talking frog. - -We had a lot to tell him. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -THE MYSTERY DEEPENS - - -The soap man was interesting to me because he was the first spy that I -had ever come in contact with. I figured that he must be a sort of -detective. - -Still, I considered, in the course of my thoughts, he was a -queer-looking and a queer-acting detective. Not at all like the -detectives that I had read about in stories. - -For instance, there was his shabby old horse. What was his object in -keeping it? Was it to create the impression, beyond all possible doubt, -that he was indeed a poor soap peddler, traveling by horse and buggy -from town to town? - -As a spy he knew who we were. He knew that we were on Mr. Ricks’ side. -To him we were the enemy, sort of. Tom especially. - -Why, then, had he hired us, out of all the boys in Tutter, to peddle -his fake beauty soap? Was he planning to make some secret use of us -later on when we were least likely to suspect it? - -That was a thing to keep in mind, I concluded, looking out for myself. - -Scoop said that we should go ahead and sell all of the soap that we -could. There was money in it for us. - -“But we’ll fool mister spy,” he said, “if it’s his scheme, in hiring -us, to get all of us away from the house at the same time. One of us -will always stand guard here to keep him out.” - -“I locked myself in this afternoon,” spoke up Tom. - -“That’s the stuff,” waggled Scoop. “It’s better to be safe than sorry.” - -Having had our supper, we were gathered on the front porch of the brick -house. The sun had gone down. It was fast getting dark. And on the -moment, as I watched the creeping shadows deepen and lengthen under the -eerie pine trees, I wondered uneasily what new adventures the night -would unfold for us. I had the feeling, sort of, that we were heading -into something risky. - -Scoop got up. - -“Come on, Jerry,” he signaled. - -Peg wanted to know where we were going. - -“Over to the mill,” Scoop informed, “to settle up with mister spy. You -better stay here with Tom. We’ll be right back.” - -Getting Romeo’s oats from the back porch, we cut around the barn, Mr. -Ricks’ workshop, and crawled under a rusty wire fence. We could see the -horse in the mill yard. It made a queer gurgling throat sound when we -gave it the oats. Poor old nag! - -The soap man was nowhere in sight in the lower part of the mill. - -“S-h-h-h!” motioned Scoop, tiptoeing across the big empty room. He -paused at the foot of the stairs and cupped his hand to his ear. - -“Hear anything?” I breathed, at his elbow. - -“No. But I bet he’s up there.” - -“Let’s call,” I suggested, uneasy under the mill’s crowding shadows, -“and bring him down.” - -“Why not go up? We may find out something.” - -“Risky,” I said. I looked up the stairs. “See how dark it is.” - -“Don’t be a calf, Jerry. Come on.” - -Bang! - -All of a sudden a hinged board came down of its own weight, striking -Scoop, who had taken the lead up the stairs, on the head. And in the -same moment a pan clattered to the floor. - -I was scared stiff. - -“Who’s there?” the soap man whispered hollowly down the stairs. - -Scoop rubbed his head. - -“Why don’t you kill a fellow?” he growled. - -“Um.... What are you doin’ in here?” came the suspicious inquiry. - -“We came to settle up.” - -“Got some money fur me?” - -I could imagine from the speaker’s quick inquiry that he was licking -his lips. The tone of his voice suggested it. - -“I almost wish I hadn’t,” grumbled Scoop. - -“You run into my stair trap,” the old man told us, with a kind of smug -grin on his thin face, when he had joined us at the foot of the stairs, -having lighted his way down with a candle. - -I saw right off what he meant. He had fixed a string on the stairs, -connected to the hinged board and the balanced pan. In the darkness -Scoop had stepped on the string without knowing that it was there, -springing the trap and thereby sounding the alarm of our presence in -the enemy’s territory. - -The old man held out his hand, rubbing his thumb and fingers. - -“Well,” he said, as a hint for us to hurry up and give him his money. - -“You must have something up there,” said Scoop, pointing up the stairs, -“that you don’t want us to see.” - -“What I’ve got up there,” came the quick, sharp response, “you hain’t -goin’ to see. An’ if you know what’s good fur you, you’ll keep away -from here nights after this.” - -He stuck his candle on a beam and counted the money that we gave him. -In the flickering light he made a queer picture. There was something -about him that gave me the shivers. - -What was his secret? What was he doing upstairs that should require him -to set a stair trap so that he would be warned of our near-by presence -in case we came into the mill? - -“I can’t let you have any more soap to-night,” he told us, when he had -finished counting his money. “Fur I hain’t got it ready yet. But I’ll -have it fur you early to-morrow mornin’.” - -“Do you make it?” quizzed Scoop. - -The old man ignored the question. - -“Cloudy,” he said, squinting out of the door. “Looks a good bit like -rain. Good night, boys. An’ don’t furgit what I told you: This hain’t -no healthy place fur you to be hangin’ around after dark.” - -Hurrying back to the brick house, we excitedly told our chums about our -queer adventure in the old mill. - -“We’ll separate,” planned Scoop, “and work in pairs. That’ll be the -safest. Peg, you and Tom can stay here and guard the house. Jerry and I -will watch the mill. And if the spy comes out, we’ll follow him.” - -“I’ve had jobs I liked better,” I told him, uneasy. - -“Keep the doors locked,” he instructed the house guards. “If we want to -get in, we’ll tap on the kitchen window. Like this—see?” and he gave -two taps, then one tap, then three taps. - -I went with him to the mill, dropping onto my stomach in the weeds just -without the mill door. It was good and dark now. But our eyes had -become accustomed to the darkness. If the soap man came out of the -mill, a moving black shape, we would be sure to see him even if we -didn’t hear him. - -An hour passed. I was beginning to get stiff. - -“What was that?” breathed Scoop, clutching my arm. - -I hadn’t heard anything. - -“There!” - -I sharpened my ears. Thump! thump! thump! It was a muffled sound. Only -by straining my ears could I distinguish it above the ordinary night -sounds that came out of the mill-pond marsh. - -“It’s in the upper part of the mill,” whispered Scoop. “Let’s go in and -find out what it is.” - -“No!” I cried, in a sudden panic, sort of. - -Thump! thump! thump! - -Scoop got up and tiptoed to the mill, a few feet away, putting his ear -to the thick stone wall. - -“Jerry!” - -I joined him. - -“I can hear it plain,” he told me. “Put your ear to the wall.” - -“What the dickens?...” I said, bewildered. - -“He’s drilling a hole in the stone wall. What we hear is the thump! -thump! of his hammer.” - -He suddenly clutched my arm. - -“Down!” he hissed in my ear. - -I fell flat. - -“What was it?” I breathed, trembling all over. - -“There’s some one over there by that elm tree. See?” - -My heart was making an awful racket. - -“Looks like a boy,” breathed Scoop, squinting. “Here he comes. He’s -going into the mill.” - -Two-three minutes passed. - -Bang! - -“It’s the stair trap,” Scoop cried in my ear. “The boy walked into it. -Here he comes. On the run. Listen, Jerry! I’m going to follow him. I -want to find out who he is. You wait here till I get back.” - -He was gone before I could speak up. - -A light had appeared in the mill. I could hear the soap man grumbling -to himself as he came down the stairs. Holding the candle above his -head, he pottered to the mill doorway and looked out. - -“It’s them snoopy kids,” he muttered, and his face was dark and -threatening in its expression. “I’m goin’ to lay it on them with a -strap if they don’t mind me an’ keep away from here.” - -He went back up the steps, resetting his trap, blowing out the candle -when he got to the top floor. - -The big clock in the college chapel tower donged ten times. Then, at -fifteen-minute intervals, it donged the quarter hours. - -Eleven o’clock! Scoop had been gone for more than an hour. Where was -he? Why didn’t he come back? - -It was moonlight now. And with the cold white light had come a dampness -that penetrated my sweater and set me to shivering. I pumped my arms to -speed up my blood. I got warm after a few minutes. But I still -shivered. It was my nerves. - -I stuck it out another half hour. Then I got up, wabbling at first on -my cramped, trembling legs. Limping to the brick house, I signaled to -Peg and Tom to let me in. - -“Who is it?” Peg inquired through the kitchen window. - -“Jerry,” I told him. - -He opened the door for me. - -“Where’s Scoop?” Tom inquired. - -While I was talking, telling my story, the missing one signaled on the -window. - -“Is Jerry here?” he inquired quickly of Peg, when he was inside. - -I stepped into sight. - -“I went to the mill to get you,” Scoop panted, looking worried. “I was -scared when I couldn’t find you. Did anything happen to you?” - -I shook my head. - -“Jerry just came in,” Peg explained. “He got to shivering and couldn’t -stand it any longer. He was telling us about the boy that you followed. -Who was it?” - -The panting newcomer dropped wearily into a chair. - -“Gosh, I’m tired!” He gave a jerky laugh. “Where do you suppose I’ve -been?” - -“Tell us,” urged Peg. - -“First,” I put in, “tell us who the boy was.” - -Scoop shook his head. - -“I don’t know, Jerry.” - -“Didn’t you follow him home?” I inquired, disappointed. - -“Sure thing.” - -“Then you ought to know who he is.” - -“I followed him into the country,” said Scoop, “to Mrs. Kelly’s house, -and watched him crawl in through a window. Once I got pretty close to -him, though not close enough to see his face. He seemed to be about -your size, Jerry. Had on knee pants. And that’s all I can tell you -about him.” - -“I didn’t know,” Peg spoke up, “that Mrs. Kelly had a boy living with -her.” - -“Neither did I,” said Scoop. “That’s what puzzles and mystifies me. Who -is he? And why did he go to the old mill? It wasn’t to see the soap -man, or the two would have met and talked together.” - -Pat! pat! pat! - -“The spy!” breathed Tom, listening to the footsteps on the porch. - -The doorknob turned. We heard more muffled footsteps. Then silence. - -“Go lay down,” Peg told Scoop, “and get some sleep. For you look tired -out. We’ll take care of things while you sleep.” - -“Just a minute,” said Scoop, feeling in his pockets. He brought out a -piece of cloth, handing it to me. - -“Did you ever see it before, Jerry?” - -I took the piece of cloth and squinted at it. - -“Why,” I said, surprised, “it’s the patch that you and Peg sewed on my -old corduroy pants.” - -One time when I was playing at Scoop’s house I tore an awful hole in -the seat of my pants, a knock-about pair that I wore on Saturdays. Peg -was there. And he and Scoop, in fun, took me down and sewed a -heart-shaped patch over the hole. They even went to the trouble of -putting a red edge on the patch, using some of Mrs. Ellery’s fancy -darning cotton. I didn’t mind their joke. I got just as much fun out of -it as they did. Afterwards Mother wanted to rip off the patch and put -on something less showy. But I wouldn’t let her change it. - -“I heard the kid’s pants rip,” Scoop went on, “when he went through a -barbed-wire fence. And when I came to the fence, there was this patch. -I thought it was the one that I had helped to sew on Jerry. I wasn’t -sure though.” - -Peg scratched his head. - -“But how could a strange kid get hold of Jerry’s pants?” - -“You tell me,” said Scoop, wagging his head, “and I’ll tell you.” - -“Are you sure it’s your patch?” Peg inquired of me. - -I told him that it was, beyond all doubt. And I tried to remember the -last time that I had worn the old corduroys. It came to me slowly that -I hadn’t seen them in my clothes closet for a good many weeks. - -How had they come into the possession of this strange boy? Why was he -wearing them instead of his own pants? Who was he? - -I pondered the mystery, puzzled. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER X - -A SURPRISE - - -It was our leader’s theory that the spy was a brother of the murdered -puzzle maker’s. That would make him a relative of Mrs. Kelly’s. A -mysterious boy, from Mrs. Kelly’s house, had been in the old mill where -the soap man was living. - -What was the connection between Mrs. Kelly and the mysterious boy and -the queer old peddler? - -Was there a blood relationship between the man and the woman, as Scoop -suspected? Were the two working together to some hidden purpose? What -was the man doing in the upper part of the mill? Was he drilling a hole -in the thick stone wall? Did Mrs. Kelly know what he was doing and why -he was doing it? And, in conclusion, was she in league with the spy in -his unworthy scheme to steal Mr. Ricks’ talking frog? - -We had pledged ourselves, as Tom’s loyal, chums, to stand by him and -help him save the talking frog from thieving hands. And now that Mrs. -Kelly had become involved in the tangle, seemingly on the spy’s side, -it was highly important for us, in our campaign against the enemy, to -have an early talk with her, to pump her, and to thus find out if she -were related to the soap man. Also we would pump her, Scoop said, to -find out who the boy was who was wearing my old corduroy pants. - -“The more we learn about the enemy’s plans,” he told us, when we talked -the matter over at the breakfast table, “the better chance we’ll have -of winning out.” - -Our plans completed, he and I headed into the country immediately after -breakfast, leaving Tom and Peg to wash the dishes and take care of the -house. - -“Sure,” Mrs. Kelly cried, when our knock had brought her to the kitchen -door, “it’s the Ellery boy and the mayor.” She gave me that nickname -the time that Dad was elected mayor of Tutter. Opening the screen door, -she brushed out some flies with her apron and took my arm. “Come right -in,” she invited, making a fuss over me. She is that way with -everybody. That is why she is so well liked. She frequently comes to -our house. Mother buys eggs from her and gives her dresses to make over -for herself. She is kind of poor, I guess. - -We sat down in the chairs that she brought for us and answered the -questions that she asked us about our folks—how well they were and what -they were doing. And, of course, she had to tell me what a big boy I -was getting to be. She does that every time I see her. - -All the time that we were talking, Scoop was squinting around the -kitchen. I knew why. In a house where a boy lives one usually expects -to see a cap or a shoe or a baseball or something like that laying -around on the floor. But there were no boy’s things in this room. - -“It must be kind of lonesome for you,” said my companion, “living here -by yourself.” - -He was starting to pump the other to find out whether she was on our -side or the spy’s. - -“Yes,” said Mrs. Kelly. - -“I don’t suppose,” the smooth one followed up, “that you keep a hired -man.” - -“People on three-acre farms,” the woman laughed, “don’t usually keep -hired hands.” - -“I should think, though,” said Scoop, “that a boy would be a big help -to you in running your little farm.” - -“I had a boy last year,” said Mrs. Kelly. “But this year I have managed -to do the work myself.” - -It was plain to us that she didn’t intend to say anything about the boy -who was living with her. So Scoop cleverly shifted the conversation to -the murdered puzzle maker. - -“It doesn’t seem possible,” he said, “that old Mr. Matson has been dead -three years. How the time flies!” - -“Two years,” corrected Mrs. Kelly. - -“No,” said Scoop, acting sure of himself, “he has been dead three -years.” - -Well, they argued back and forth, and finally, to prove that she was -right, she brought out the family Bible. - -“There,” she said, in an I-told-you-so tone of voice, laying the Bible -on the kitchen table. “‘Born in 1850; died in 1920.’” - -“Where do you see that?” inquired Scoop, putting his nose down close to -the page. I knew that he wasn’t looking where her finger pointed. Not -at all! Having worked her into bringing out the family Bible, the one -that the puzzle maker had owned, he was squinting all over the page, -taking in everything, births and deaths and marriages. - -Finally he straightened. - -“You’re right, Mrs. Kelly,” he waggled, giving in. - -The woman beamed in her victory. - -“Sure,” she said, in her kindly way, “you lads both have a hungry look. -Let me bring out my cookie jar,” and she bustled into the pantry. - -No sooner was she out of sight than Scoop hissed at me: - -“There’s a twin brother, Jerry. Peter Matson. It’s the soap man, all -right.” - -“Jinks!” I said, keeping my eyes on the pantry door. - -“The last record on the page is what stumps me.” - -I could hear Mrs. Kelly coming. - -“Yes?” I said, breathing hard. - -“‘Frances Matson, granddaughter, born 1910,’” recited Scoop. “I never -heard of a granddaughter. Did you, Jerry?” - -Before I could reply Mrs. Kelly came into the room with a brown jar in -her hands. - -“Help yourselves,” she invited, setting the cookie jar on the table. - -I ate ten cookies and Scoop ate eleven. He made a pig of himself I -thought. - -“We’re peddling beauty soap,” I told Mrs. Kelly, bringing out a pink -box. “The regular price of the soap is ten cents a cake or three cakes -for a quarter. But I want you to have a free cake,” I told her, “to -sort of pay you back for the cookies.” - -“Beauty soap?” she repeated. And I had the sudden feeling that -something queer was happening in her head. - -“It’s a very wonderful soap,” Scoop picked up. “It makes women -beautiful. The homelier they are the more beautiful they become. And we -have been told further that it removes warts and blemishes; turns -wrinkles into dimples. Of course,” he said, in pretended earnestness, -“I realize that you haven’t any use for the soap yourself. But maybe -you have a friend who is homely and who wants to become beautiful. And -in your kind-hearted way——” - -“What is the name of your soap?” Mrs. Kelly cut in. - -“Bubbles of Beauty,” recited Scoop. - -“Here it is,” I said, opening my pink box and handing her a cake. - -She turned white—a sort of scared-looking, yellowish white, like the -keys of an old piano. - -“So he’s in the neighborhood, is he? The ould scoundrel! When did you -meet him? This mornin’?” - -“Yesterday morning,” informed Scoop. - -“And did he send you here?” - -“Oh, no,” Scoop said quickly. - -“Where is he now?” - -“In the old Matson mill.” - -She gave a low cry, as though something pained her on the inside where -her heart was. - -“Howard,” she inquired earnestly, calling Scoop by his given name, “are -you a friend of mine?” - -“You bet I’m your friend, Mrs. Kelly.” - -“Will you help me?” - -“Tell me what to do,” he waggled, “and I’ll do it as best I can.” - -“Me, too,” I put in, excited. - -It was plain to us now that Mrs. Kelly wasn’t on the soap man’s side. -We were glad. - -“I’m in trouble,” she told us, a worried look on her face. “And some -one that I think a great deal of is in deeper trouble than me. We’re -likely to be cheated. It’s the soap man. Sure,” and her eyes flashed, -“I know the ould villain! He’s Mr. Matson’s twin brother. And he’s here -to git the ould gintleman’s money.” - -“What?” cried Scoop, jumping up. “Money? What money do you mean?” - -“For two years I’ve kept to myself what I know, wantin’ to carry out -the ould gintleman’s last wishes. And now, at the last moment, the -shyster brother turns up! Sure, ’tis enough to drive me crazy.” - -Scoop was dancing in front of her. - -“What do you mean, Mrs. Kelly, in saying that the soap man is here to -get old Mr. Matson’s money?” - -Instead of answering, the disturbed woman went to a door that opened -into a back bedroom. - -“Come out, Frances,” she called in a quiet voice. “These boys are your -friends.” - -Scoop excitedly clutched my arm. - -“That’s the kid, Jerry,” he hissed in my ear. - -I suddenly wondered if my chum was crazy. For he had told me that the -strange kid was a boy. And here was a girl! - -I was told later that I blushed like a beet. Well, I won’t deny that. -What boy wouldn’t blush, let me ask you, to learn suddenly that a girl -he never had seen before had been wearing his corduroy pants around the -country, leaving telltale patches in barbed-wire fences? - -I had good occasion to blush, let me tell you! - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -THE BIBLE’S SECRET - - -I was introduced to the strange girl. But I don’t remember what I said -or what she said. For I was sort of confused. - -Later on I came to realize how very pretty she was, with laughing black -eyes, saucy bobbed curls and pink cheeks. Her name was Frances Matson. -Her father, Mrs. Kelly told us, an only child of the puzzle maker’s, -had quarreled with his parent, the girl’s grandfather, and had run away -from home when he was nineteen. Since then, over a period of twenty -years, nothing had been heard of him until very recently. - -“Just before the ould gintleman met with his awful death,” the woman -went on, “he came here, as though he had a premonition of what was -goin’ to happen to him, and told me for the first time about the -quarrel that had separated him from his son, Harry. He was wholly to -blame, he confessed, and cried about it, great, big tears, tellin’ me -how stubborn he had been and how sorry he was now. He wanted his son to -come home again. And he asked me, as his cousin, to write to all of our -relatives to learn if any of them knew anything about the missin’ one’s -whereabouts. He hadn’t kept track of his relatives, he explained, and -didn’t know where to write to, himself. Then he mentioned his advanced -age. He wasn’t likely to live much longer, he said. He had felt himself -breakin’ down of late. And he gave me a written order so that in case -of his sudden death. I would have a right to hold his furniture and -household goods until his son had been located. He trusted me, he said, -and depended on me. I told him, in sympathy, that I would do my best to -find his boy for him. He wanted Harry to heir his property, the brick -house that he lived in and the ould mill. He had money, too, he told -me, hidden away. In the event that his son wasn’t found within ten -years, the estate was then to be divided among his relatives, but no -part of it, he instructed bitterly, not so much as a penny or a pin, -was to go to the rascally twin brother, Peter.” - -The speaker paused to get her breath. - -“And he told me in conclusion,” she went on, “that I was to preserve -the family Bible and let no one have it except his son, least of all -the twin brother, who, accordin’ to his story, was the blackest black -sheep that ever disgraced a respectable family. And no sooner had he -said this than a wild look came into his eyes and away he ran, out of -the house and down the road, as though Satan himself was hot on his -heels, I knew then that the things that I had been thinkin’ about him -were true: He was the next thing to crazy. A week later I went to town, -stoppin’ at his house. He didn’t answer when I rang the bell. The door -was unlocked. I went in ... the kitchen floor was covered with -blood....” - -“We know about the murder,” Scoop spoke up, “and about the vanished -body.” - -Mrs. Kelly composed herself and proceeded: - -“Later I went to the judge and showed him my order. He said it was -legal. And with his permission I moved everything out here, storin’ the -stuff in my barn, all except the Bible. Then I started writin’ letters. -Sure, I wrote more than a hundred letters. I wrote to all my relatives, -near and distant, and to many people who weren’t in the family, askin’ -them did they know anything about the lost son. Finally, about a month -ago, I got word that Harry was dead. He had married in his twenties, -and the young wife was dead too. There was a granddaughter who had been -taken to raise by a family named Knobson. Before I could get around to -write to the Knobsons, I got a letter from Frances herself. She had -learned through one of her distant relatives that I was huntin’ for her -pa. And then——” The speaker broke off shortly and turned to the girl. -“But I will let Frances finish the story. For she can tell it better -than I can.” - -“I wrote two letters to Mrs. Kelly,” the girl picked up, “and she wrote -back telling me about my grandfather, who had been dead for nearly two -years, and about his hidden money.” - -“Hidden money?” cried Scoop, excited. - -“Mrs. Kelly thinks,” the girl told us, “that there is money hidden in -my grandfather’s old mill. Having gotten her letters to that point, you -can imagine how anxious I was to come here. For the money, if it could -be found, was mine. But I didn’t dare to tell the Knobsons. No, indeed! -For they weren’t good to me. And I was afraid that if they knew about -the money they would come here, too, and take it away from me and keep -it. So I ran away from them last week. Since then I’ve been in hiding.” - -“But I was told,” Scoop said, looking puzzled, “that your grandfather’s -money was stolen.” - -“It was the general belief,” Mrs. Kelly spoke up, “that the ould -gintleman was killed for his hoarded money and that the money -disappeared from the house along with the body. But I have had an -entirely different opinion. What proof was there, I asked myself after -the murder, that the money was stolen? None. The ould gintleman had -told me that his money was hid. And I drew the sensible conclusion that -it was still hid. At one time I thought of goin’ to the judge with my -story. But I decided not to do that. For I realized that if the story -got out that there was money hid in the ould mill, every Tom, Dick and -Harry in Tutter would be there searchin’ for it. That would never do. -It would be best, I concluded, to keep my thoughts to myself until the -son had been found. Then he and I could search together for the hidden -fortune.” - -Scoop looked at me. - -“We’ve been wondering why the old soap man was living in the mill. I -guess we know now.” - -“He has a double purpose in being there,” I said. - -“Sure thing,” waggled Scoop. “He intends to stay there until he has -found the hidden money. And then he plans to make another clean-up by -stealing the talking frog for Gennor.” - -“Talking frog?” repeated Mrs. Kelly. “What do you mean by that?” - -We told about our new chum and about his father’s unusual invention. - -“Our chum says,” Scoop concluded, “that the spy has been living in the -mill for the past two weeks.” - -“He’ll get the money!” cried Mrs. Kelly, in sudden alarm. - -“It’s very evident,” waggled Scoop, “that he knows there is money -there. For last night we heard him sounding the stone wall. We thought -he was drilling a hole in the wall. More probably, though, he was -searching for a possible hollow place.” - -“Let’s hope,” I said, “that we find the money ahead of him.” - -Scoop gave the granddaughter a quizzical look. - -“Didn’t you know that the man was in the mill last night when you were -there?” - -The girl blushed. I guess she was thinking about my pants. - -“How did you know that I was in the mill?” she countered, embarrassed. - -“Jerry and I saw you go in. And when you came out I followed you.” - -“Oh!...” said Mrs. Kelly quickly, nodding her head in a knowing way. -“So that is why you came here! I’ve been wonderin’.” - -Scoop grinned. - -“I heard some one in the upper part of the mill,” the girl said. “But I -didn’t know or suspect that it was my wicked uncle.” She shivered. “He -might have grabbed me in the dark.” - -Scoop gave her another quizzical look. - -“Is it in order,” he queried, “for me to ask you why you went there?” - -“I wanted to see if I could find out what ‘ten and ten’ means.” - -“‘Ten and ten’?” repeated Scoop, staring. - -“It’s in the Matson Bible,” Mrs. Kelly told us. “One day I came across -it. Queer, thinks I, squintin’ at it. Then it struck me all of a sudden -that the ould gintleman, in his love for puzzles, had put it there for -a hidden purpose.” - -“‘Ten and ten,’” mused Scoop. - -“Frances thinks,” said Mrs. Kelly, “that it’s a key to the money’s -hidin’ place. And if she is right, and we can find out what it means, -we’ll know where to look for the money.” - -“Hot dog!” cried Scoop. “This is getting exciting.” - -“I looked all over the first floor of the mill,” the girl said, “trying -to find something that would measure ‘ten and ten’ or was marked ‘ten -and ten.’ Failing to get a clew there, I started up the stairs. I -stumbled over something. It made an awful racket. Scared, I turned and -ran away as fast as I could.” - -Scoop looked at me and laughed. - -“Well, Jerry, we have one less mystery to solve.” - -“What do you mean?” the girl inquired quickly. - -“We’ve been wondering,” grinned Scoop, “who the strange boy was who was -running around in Jerry’s pants.” - -“You must have been awfully close to me,” blushed the girl, “to have -seen how I was dressed.” - -Scoop laughed again and told her about the patch. - -“I thought it would be fun,” she explained, “to disguise myself.” - -“One time we did that,” grinned Scoop, referring to our adventure in -solving the mystery of the whispering mummy, “and got into a peck of -trouble.” - -Mrs. Kelly looked at me and smiled. - -“Didn’t you know, Jerry, that your ma gave me your ould corduroy pants -to cut up for patches?” - -I didn’t know it, and I told her so. - -Scoop let his forehead go puckered. - -“‘Ten and ten,’” he repeated, thinking. He looked at Mrs. Kelly. “Did -you say it’s in the Bible?” - -The Book was still on the kitchen table. Mrs. Kelly turned to the tenth -chapter of Genesis. Under “Chapter” and “X” was a penciled line with -the ends turned up at right angles. And the same kind of a mark was -under the tenth verse. Like this: - - - | CHAPTER X | - ------------- - - | 10 And the beginning of his kingdom | - | was Babel, and Erech, and Accad, | - | and Calneh, in the land of Shinar. | - --------------------------------------- - - -Mrs. Kelly then turned to Exodus, the Bible’s second book. Here the -tenth chapter and the tenth verse were marked in the same way. - -“First,” she told us, “I thought that there was a hidden meanin’ to the -marked verses. But I could make no sense of it. Then I discovered that -it was ‘ten and ten’ all through the Book. It’s the ‘ten and ten,’ we -have concluded, that carries a hidden meanin’, and not the marked -verses themselves.” - -“‘Ten and ten,’” murmured Scoop. “It’s another one of Mr. Matson’s -puzzles all right. No doubt about that. He was great on puzzles. Hiding -his money and making a puzzle of the hiding place was right in his -line.” He turned to me. “Remember the ten-ring puzzle, Jerry?” - -I nodded. - -“He offered ten dollars,” Scoop went on, “to anybody who could work the -puzzle. But no one earned the money. For no one could work it but -himself.” The speaker’s voice suddenly broke off. And he caught and -held my eyes with his own excited ones. “Gee-miny crickets!” he -exploded. “Don’t you tumble?” and he clutched my arm and almost pinched -it off. “Ten rings! Ten dollars! ‘Ten and ten!’ The puzzle has -something to do with the Bible key!” - -Maybe you can imagine how excited we were. Oh, boy! - -“This afternoon,” planned Scoop, “I’m going to call on old Deacon -Pillpopper. For he knows a lot about puzzles. In fact he and Mr. Matson -worked together on a number of puzzles. Maybe the old man will know -about the ten-ring puzzle and what ‘ten and ten’ means. I hope so. Boy, -won’t it be fun digging up the hidden money! Do you think we’ll get a -thousand dollars, Mrs. Kelly?” - -“I’d sooner think,” said the woman steadily, “that we’ll get twenty -thousand dollars. For the ould gintleman was rich, let me tell you.” - -“Wough!” cried Scoop, acting dizzy. - -The clock struck ten, reminding us that it was time for us to start -back to town. - -Mrs. Kelly followed us to the door. - -“Beware of the ould shyster, boys. Watch him. And don’t go in the mill -nights. Sure, it’d break me all up if anything were to happen to either -of you, especially Jerry, whose ma has been so good to me.” - -“Don’t you worry about us,” Scoop laughed. “The soap man may be a slick -old bird, but we’ve got a few wing-clipping tricks up our sleeves. Eh, -Jerry?” - -“You said it,” I waggled. - -Pausing on the porch, Scoop ran his fingers through his hair. - -“‘Ten and ten.’ Um....” He raised his eyes. “If you find out what it -means,” he said to the two in the doorway, “telephone to us at the -brick house. And if we find out anything new we’ll telephone to you. In -the meantime we’ll keep a sharp eye on mister spy. He won’t get away -from us with the money. Be assured of that. Come on, Jerry.” - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -SO BEAUTIFUL! - - -“I wonder,” reflected Scoop, when we were on our way home, “if the -Chicago manufacturer knows that his spy is putting in the most of his -time treasure hunting.” - -“Why do you say that?” I inquired, trudging abreast of my companion -along the dusty country road. - -He didn’t answer for a moment or two. - -“If I were Gennor,” he said, absorbed in his thoughts, “I’d send -another man here or come myself.” - -“To help the spy?” - -“To find out why the spy didn’t get busy.” - -“He is busy,” I said. - -“Treasure hunting—yes. But he wasn’t sent here to drill holes in stone -walls.” - -“He probably would get busy in a hurry,” I reflected, as we walked -along, “if he knew that Mr. Ricks was on his way to Washington.” - -“Gennor knows it,” Scoop said quickly. - -“What makes you think so?” - -“The dress patterns were stolen from Mr. Ricks on the train. That was -the work of another spy. And surely the radio man knows what his spies -are doing.” There was a moment’s pause in our conversation. “Yes, sir,” -Scoop waggled, “it wouldn’t surprise me a bit to have Gennor ship -another spy down here to check up on the first one.” - -I had a sudden worried feeling. - -“Evidently,” my companion continued, thinking, “the soap man knows that -the hidden treasure is his biggest stake. That’s why he’s giving it his -first attention. Um.... I wonder how he found out about the hidden -money.” - -“Maybe,” I suggested, “he got hold of one of Mrs. Kelly’s letters.” - -“I wonder if he didn’t.” - -We were now within sight of the whispering pine trees and the lonely -brick house. - -“There goes the mail man,” I pointed. “He’s stopping at the Ricks’ mail -box. Let’s speed up.” - -But Scoop was pressing on his thinker and didn’t seem to hear me. - -“To-night,” he said, speaking to himself, sort of, “we’re going to find -out,” and he gave his head a sharp, decisive bob. - -I was instantly uneasy. - -“Find out what?” I inquired, regarding him steadily with narrowed eyes. - -He raised his face and grinned. - -“Have you got a lot of grit, Jerry?” - -“That all depends,” I returned, on my guard. “What are you planning to -do?” was my cautious inquiry. “Hold up a bank?” - -“To-night,” he said, “you and I are going to visit the old mill.” - -“That’s what you say.” - -“We’ve got to do it,” he waggled. - -“It’s a nice, easy way to commit suicide.” - -“‘Ten and ten,’” he mused. “What does it mean? What is the spy doing? -Has he found the hidden fortune yet?... I wish it was dark.” - -“Too risky for me,” I told him. - -“The soap man, of course, won’t know that we’re there.” - -“You told the truth,” I waggled. “He won’t know that I’m there, for I -don’t intend to be there.” - -My companion gave me another odd grin. - -“What’s your scheme?” I inquired, curious. - -“Let me give it some more thought,” he laughed. - -Coming to the Ricks’ mail box I fished out a letter that the rural -carrier had just delivered. - -“Is it from Aunt Polly?” Scoop inquired, squinting over my shoulder. - -“It can’t be,” I said, staring at the Atlanta, Georgia, postmark. - -However, the letter was from Aunt Polly. And when we had read it, the -four of us, and were made to understand the situation, our minds were -suddenly depressed. For the absent-minded inventor was lost. He had -vanished from Springfield in the time that it had taken Tom’s aunt to -get there. And now, in possession of certain vague clews, the little -old lady was trying desperately to locate her brother in Atlanta. - -“If you get word from him, wire me immediately,” was the letter’s -concluding injunction. - -Tom turned to us with a burning face. - -“Isn’t Pa the big dunce!” he cried, his lips trembling with -mortification. “I never knew anybody like him.” Then he stiffened, sort -of proud-like, and his mouth went grim in its expression. “But if you -fellows are thinking to yourselves that he’s ‘soft’ in his head, you’re -dead wrong. It’s just his queer way,” he concluded. - -“Shucks!” said Scoop loyally. “We understand.” - -Here Tom’s forehead clouded over. - -“Ding bust it!” he cried. “We aren’t safe from Gennor by a long shot. -And we won’t be until Aunt Polly and Pa are in Washington.” - -We had dinner. Then Scoop and I and Tom went to the old mill to get our -supply of beauty soap. - -“Um ...” scowled our disgruntled employer. “I thought you boys was -plannin’ to come around early this mornin’?” - -“We had other business,” said Scoop. - -“A half day, I suppose, is better than nothin’. Think you kin sell ten -boxes apiece this trip?” - -“Easy,” said Scoop. - -“I’ll be lookin’ fur you after supper,” the old man told us as we -started away with our supply of beauty soap. “But come before dark,” he -instructed sharply. - -Scoop squinted back at the old mill, a gaunt, ungainly structure with a -flat roof. Then he turned to Tom. - -“Have you got a kite?” he inquired. - -Our new chum shook his head. - -“I’ll ask Peg to make one,” Scoop decided, and he started back toward -the brick house, where the fourth member of our gang was standing guard -over the buried talking frog. - -Tom and I went ahead, leaving Scoop to his own devices. Pretty soon we -came to Miss Prindle’s house on Church Street. At sight of her -dressmaking sign I grinned. - -“It must have been an awful blow to her,” I told my companion, “not to -have been able to change her homely face.” - -I had no sooner said this than the front door opened and the dressmaker -herself appeared on the porch. She looked up and down the street, -nodding to us and smiling. - -Gosh! I was struck dumb, sort of. It was her face! I blinked my eyes. I -must be dreaming, I told myself. - -“Pinch me,” I said to Tom. - -“What for?” - -“I want to see if I’m awake.” - -“You’re awake all right,” he laughed. - -“Do you see what I see?” I asked him. - -“I see a house.” - -“Is there a woman on the porch of the house that you see?” - -“Sure thing.” - -I took another look at the porch’s occupant, a sort of protracted, -staring look. It couldn’t be Miss Prindle, I told myself. No. It was -some other woman, a very beautiful woman, dressed up in the homely -one’s clothes. - -Still, it looked like Miss Prindle, all but the face. - -“Good afternoon,” I said, touching my cap. - -“Good afternoon,” she returned, smiling. - -It was Miss Prindle’s voice all right. But that face! - -“How is Mr. White?” I inquired, to a purpose. - -“Mr. White?” - -“Your husband,” I said glibly. “Is he feeling well to-day?” - -“You are confusing me with some other woman,” she said. “For my name -isn’t White. I am Miss Prindle.” - -For a moment or two I was dizzy. - -“I—I didn’t recognize you,” I fumbled. “You—you look different.” - -“Oh! Do I?” and she laughed. - -“You look very beautiful,” I told her. - -She made no reply. And when she had gone into the house I drew Tom into -a seat on the curb. I had to sit down for a few minutes. For a crazy -wabble had come into my knees. It was an awful shock to me, let me tell -you, to learn that our beauty soap wasn’t a fake as we had suspected. - -Then I thought of Red. I wondered if his mother had used any of the -beauty soap on him. It was hard for me to imagine my red-headed chum -with a beautiful face. I wondered what he would look like without his -freckles and his red nose. - -I got up, telling Tom that I had to go over to Red’s house, and -together we hurried down the street. As we came within sight of our -freckled chum’s home, his mother appeared on the front porch and -beckoned to us. - -“Donald wants you to come around to the east bedroom window,” she told -us, when we came into the yard. “He has a surprise for you.” - -I knew what she meant. She had used some of the beauty soap on Red, and -now our formerly freckled chum had a Rudolph Valentino face. - -“Hello, fellows,” Red called to us from the bedroom window. “Do I look -any different to you?” - -Did he! The sight of him sickened me, sort of. Not until this moment -had I realized how very dear to me his freckles were. Now they were -gone! His red nose was gone! He would never be the same to me again. -The chum I had loved and traded neckties with had vanished forever. And -here in his place was a wax-faced doll. - -“You—you don’t look like the same kid,” I told him. - -“It’s your beauty soap,” he grinned. - -“Such wonderful soap,” put in Mrs. Meyers, beaming at us. “Can I use it -on the cat, Jerry? I thought I’d wait and ask you.” - -When Tom and I were in the street I opened one of my pink boxes and -squinted at its contents sort of reverent-like. And I flushed with -shame in the thought that only recently I had regarded this wonder -soap—this miracle soap—as a fake. - -While we were standing there, a familiar pottering figure came into -sight in the street. It was the old soap man. He was awfully excited. -His eyes bulged and his mouth was open. He was panting, sort of. And -his stiff legs were going up and down like a jumping jack’s. - -“I just got a letter,” he heaved, “from a Tutter lady by the name of -Mary Prindle.” He focused his bulging eyes on us, “Do you know her, -boys?” - -I nodded. - -“Yesterday,” I told him, still bewildered, “she was as homely as a -warty cabbage; and to-day she looks like Mary Pickford on parade.” - -“It’s my soap,” the old man waggled, breathing hard. “My wonder soap. -She used it last night, an’ now she’s goin’ in the movies.” - -Miss Prindle in the movies! I stared at him. - -“She says so in her letter. Read it.” - -I did. Here it is: - - - Dear Mr. Posselwait: - - I feel in duty bound to tell you what excellent results I have - gotten from your wonder soap, Bubbles of Beauty. In just one - night your soap has transformed me into a dream of beauty. I - am seriously thinking of going into the movies. - - Miss Mary Prindle. - - -One time the Stricker gang wrote us a fake note, signing Miss Prindle’s -name to it, asking us to drop twelve of our cats into her basement -window. That was the time that the cats got into her crab-apple -marmalade. - -If I hadn’t seen the beautified dressmaker with my own eyes, I probably -would have suspected that this letter of Mr. Posselwait’s was another -trick of Bid Stricker’s. But I knew that the letter was no fake. For I -had seen the transformed one with my own eyes. Tom had seen her, too. -It was no case of imagination with us. - -“You kin take it along with you,” the soap man told us, “an’ show it to -your customers. It ought to help you make sales. Work hard, boys,” and -he rubbed his hands together like an old miser. - -Tom and I went to a house where I had been turned down the preceding -afternoon. - -“Well?” Mrs. Larson said sharply, coming to her front door. She didn’t -act very glad to see me. You could have imagined, from the way she -looked at me, that I was an alley cat with a choice assortment of -smallpox germs. - -“Yesterday,” I said, in proper dignity, “you told me that my beauty -soap was a fraud. In justice to my goods,” I concluded, handing her the -letter, “I think you ought to read that.” - -She took the letter and read it through. - -“As you know,” I said, getting in my selling talk, “Miss Prindle was -not a very beautiful woman before she used our beauty soap. But in just -one night Bubbles of Beauty, the wonder soap, has transformed her into -a dream of beauty. Of course,” I added, in good tact, “I realize that -you have no use for the soap yourself. It is only for women who are not -beautiful. But you may know of some woman who is homely and who wants -to become beautiful. And in your kind-hearted way——” - -“Excuse me,” she laughed. “I have a cake in the oven,” and she closed -the door in my face. - -We went to another house where I had been turned down. Mrs. Macey took -my letter and read it. - -“Oh!” she laughed. “This is so funny.” - -“What’s the matter with all of the women?” Tom said, puzzled. “Why do -they say ‘Oh!’ when you show them the letter, and act as though they -were gagging on something?” - -“Search me,” I returned, digging at my hair. - -Returning to Church Street, I started Tom in where Peg had left off the -preceding afternoon, then hurried back to Main Street, my own -territory. I called at all of the houses, the full length of the -street, making a number of sales. One of the women that I called on was -telephoning in the front hall when I came to the door. I courteously -waited until she was through talking, then rang the bell. - -Her face broke into smiles when she saw me. And she wanted to know if I -were the boy who had Miss Prindle’s beauty letter. - -“I just heard about it over the ’phone,” she explained. “May I see it, -please?” - -She was called back to the telephone before I could locate the letter -in my pocket. - -“This is one-seven-one-nine,” she said sweetly. “Oh!... Is it you, Mrs. -Bardan? I didn’t recognize your voice. No, really I didn’t. What was -that? Oh, yes! No, I haven’t used any of it myself. I suppose we’ll all -be using it soon! Did you hear—— Yes, Mrs. McLennigan ’phoned to me. -She heard about it from Mrs. Larson. Isn’t it killing! Go-o-od-by!” - -Returning to the door, she took my letter and read it through. - -“Oh!” she gurgled, leaning against the door casing, one hand pressed on -her heart. “This is the funniest thing I ever heard of. Going into the -movies! Oh!” - -I told myself on the moment that women were queer in some ways. -Certainly it didn’t take much to amuse and interest them. Miss -Prindle’s letter wasn’t funny to me. - -I quit work at five o’clock, having sold nine boxes of soap. Tom was -waiting for me at the corner of Church and Main. He had sold seven -boxes. We hadn’t gone very far before Scoop overtook us. - -“I had quite a talk with Deacon Pillpopper,” he told us. “He remembers -the ten-ring puzzle. Says it’s worth a lot of money and that we ought -to try and find it.” - -“I didn’t know,” I said, “that puzzles were valuable.” - -“He seems to think,” Scoop said, “that the Matson model could be sold -to some toy company for several thousand dollars.” - -“Where do you suppose the puzzle went to?” - -“It’s probably hid with the money.” - -“Did you tell the deacon about the marked verses in the Bible?” - -“Sure thing. He agrees with me that there is some connection between -the ten-ring puzzle and the ‘ten and ten’ markings in the Bible. I’m to -have another talk with him soon. And in the meantime he’s going to -drive out to Mrs. Kelly’s house and see the Bible himself.” - -I fished Miss Prindle’s letter out of my pocket, explaining to our -leader how the letter had come into my possession. - -“A trick of the Strickers,” he said promptly. - -“Nothing of the kind,” I told him. “For I saw her myself. So did Tom.” - -“Rats! A woman can’t become beautiful over night.” - -“Miss Prindle did,” I waggled. “And so did Red.” - -“Red? Do you mean Red Meyers? Oh, ho, ho, ho! That’s rich!” - -“His mother used the beauty soap on him,” I said, “and his freckles -have all disappeared. His skin is like peaches and cream.” - -“I’ve got to see it,” said Scoop, “to believe it.” - -So, to convince him, we went around by Red’s house, learning from Mrs. -Meyers that the beautiful one was sleeping. - -“Has his freckles really disappeared?” Scoop quizzed. - -“Ask Jerry and Tom,” the woman smiled. “They saw him.” - -“Golly Ned!” cried Scoop, tugging at his hair. “I can’t understand it. -It doesn’t seem possible to me. But it must be so if the three of you -say so.” - -We started for the brick house. - -“I wonder,” grinned Tom, as we turned the corner, “if the soap will -beautify all of our customers.” - -“Why shouldn’t it?” I countered. - -“If it does,” he laughed, “this is going to be a badly mixed-up town. -For half of the husbands won’t be able to pick out their own wives.” - -It was indeed a laughable situation. We enjoyed talking about it. I -guess, though, we would have been less hilarious if we had known the -real cause of Miss Prindle’s and Red’s sudden beauty. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -UP A ROPE - - -It was Scoop’s scheme, as he now explained to us, to fly a kite to a -purpose over the old mill. So, upon our arrival at the brick house, he -and I went guardedly to an open spot on the windward side of the mill -and from there released the kite into the air. - -“Fine!” he chuckled, when the sagging string touched the mill roof. - -I had told him that I would have no part in his proposed invasion of -the enemy’s territory. I had declared that it was entirely too risky -for my blood. But what I had said had been largely a matter of talk. -I’m no coward. I was ready, as his loyal chum, to stand by him. - -As a matter of fact, in my courageous decision, I was even more -impatient than he was for night to come. I’m that way by nature. -Sometimes it takes me quite a while to make up my mind, but once I have -decided to do a certain thing I like to go ahead and do it. I don’t -like to wait around. - -And having completed our plans, I was impatient, as I say, for -nightfall. For it was our intended scheme to climb a rope in the -darkness to the mill’s flat roof, gaining secret access at that -unguarded quarter to the enemy’s territory. The spy, of course, would -be expecting us to come up the stairs—would probably have several -hidden traps in readiness for us there. He never would think of the -roof. That was the fun of it. - -The kite properly raised, we had now to wait for the wind to go down, -which it undoubtedly would do at sunset. And when Tom called us to -supper, which he and Peg had prepared, we tied the kite string to a -bush, hoping that in the time we were eating that the kite would “die,” -leaving its string on the mill roof. It was by the aid of this string, -of course, that we expected to secretly raise our rope, pulling it up -the east wall of the mill, over the top, then down the west wall, tying -it to a tree. - -Supper over, Tom and I called on the soap man, at Scoop’s directions, -not only to settle up with our employer and pay him the money due him, -but to hold him in spirited conversation, in the mill, until our leader -had returned from town with the necessary rope. - -“If you hear me at work,” Scoop had instructed, “sing a song or dance a -jig. Do anything,” he had added, with a grin, “that will make a lot of -noise, I’ll give two owl hoots when I’m through.” - -So we told the soap man funny stories, thereby keeping him in the mill -until dusk. Shortly after eight o’clock a near-by owl went, “Hoo-o! -Hoo-o!” At least the soap man thought it was an owl. We didn’t tell him -anything different. And in keeping with our leader’s instructions, we -yawned, telling the mill’s tenant that it was time for us to go home. - -“Everything’s ready,” Scoop told us, when we had joined him near the -inventor’s workshop. - -“Rope up?” I inquired. - -“Sure thing.” - -“We never heard you,” said Tom. - -“It was no trick to get it up. First, I pulled up a heavier cord, one -that wouldn’t be likely to break under the rope’s weight, and then I -pulled up the rope with the stronger cord.” - -We waited in the brick house until the clock struck nine. It was now -dark enough for our purpose. There was some final conversation between -the four of us. As on the preceding night, Scoop told Peg and Tom to be -sure and keep the house doors locked, letting us in only on signal. -Then he and I set forth. Coming into the mill yard, we saw a light in -the windows on the second floor. Thump! thump! thump! The spy was at -work. - -“I’ll go up first,” Scoop whispered, gripping the rope, which vanished -into the overhead darkness. “Hold it tight, Jerry. When I get to the -top I’ll give it three quick jerks.” - -Two-three minutes passed. Then I got the signal. It was my turn now. - -I had a queer feeling as I left the ground. It was as though I were -climbing into space. What if the rope should break? I tried not to -think about it, especially when I was ten or fifteen feet from the -ground. It was a strong rope. Scoop had told me so. It had held him. I -wasn’t any heavier than he was. Certainly it ought to hold me. - -But what if the spy, in suddenly detecting me, should reach out of a -window and slash the rope with a knife? I shivered in the thought of -it. Then I told myself that I was foolish to let such thoughts come -into my head. I was in no danger from the spy. For I could hear his -steady thump! thump! thump! With his stair traps, he felt quite secure, -and wasn’t giving any thought to what was going on outside of his -windows. - -I got out of breath after a minute or two. My arms began to ache. I -wasn’t used to doing this. Climbing a rope, let me tell you, is hard -work. There is a trick to it, too. A lot of boys can’t do it. - -Twisting my feet into the rope to keep from slipping, I rested myself, -then, after a few moments, continued my climb. I was even with the -second-story windows now. It was on this floor that the spy was -working. I could hear him, but I couldn’t see him. - -Scoop was waiting for me at the roof edge. He gave me a lift. I was -glad, let me tell you, when I had something firm under my feet once -again. - -“Jinks!” I panted. “That was hard work.” - -“S-h-h-h! Get your wind, Jerry. Take your time. We’ve got all night.” - -I sat down on the roof, concluding that this was the quickest way to -rest myself and get rid of the trembling in my arms. - -As my wind came back, and the trembling diminished, I gave a curious -eye to my surroundings. It didn’t seem so dark now. I could trace the -rectangle of the mill’s roof. And I could distinguish the shape of -near-by tree tops. In the direction of town I could see dozens of -lights in houses and on street corners. This wasn’t the first time that -I had been on the mill roof—one time, in our play, the fellows had shut -me up there for nearly an hour—but somehow the surroundings seemed -strange and unfamiliar to me in the darkness. I had the feeling, too, -that I was in danger of falling. - -After a little bit I got up, ready for business. - -A box-like shape stood out in the darkness ahead of us. This was the -office that Mr. Matson had added to his mill. He had built it on the -flat roof. There was no door opening onto the roof, but there were four -windows, one on each side of the small building, and it was through one -of these windows that we had planned to enter the mill. - -But, to our disappointment, the windows were locked. - -“Dog-gone!” muttered Scoop. “He’s fastened them on the inside.” There -was a moment’s silence. “Well,” he added, “what are we going to do?” - -“You’re the leader,” I reminded. - -“That doesn’t prevent you from speaking up if you get an idea.” - -My hand touched something on the roof building’s outside wooden wall. I -felt around for a moment or two. - -“All right,” I laughed. “I’ve got an idea.” - -“I’m listening.” - -“We’ll go down the office chimney. Santa Claus stuff.” - -“Jinks!” - -“Here’s ladder steps,” I told him, “leading to the roof. See? And you -know how big the chimney is.” - -That was another queer thing that Mr. Matson had done: The fireplace -that he had built in his crazy roof office had a chimney as big as a -sugar barrel. - -Having suggested the idea, I led the way. - -“Get the rope,” I whispered to Scoop from the small building’s roof, -“and come up and let me down the chimney.” - -With the rope tied under my arms, I got on the chimney edge and swung -my legs into the black hole, sort of measuring the chimney with my -feet. It was plenty big enough for me, I concluded, though it wasn’t as -roomy on the inside as I had thought it would be. - -“As soon as I’m down,” I told Scoop, “pull up the rope and drop it to -the ground where it was. For we may have to use it in a hurry. I’ll let -you in the east window.” - -“Check,” said Scoop, meaning that he understood. - -I had figured that the chimney, long unused and open to the weather, -would be washed clean of soot. But that shows how little I knew about -chimneys! - -Soot! Man alive, in less than ten seconds I was plastered with it. I -hardly dared to breathe. Blinded, my ears stuffed full of the nasty -black stuff, I opened my mouth to tell Scoop to haul me up in a hurry. -But I had so much soot in my mouth that I couldn’t say a word. - -Halfway down I got hooked on a nail that had been plastered into the -bricks. - -“Untie the rope,” Scoop hissed down the black hole, thinking, of -course, that I had landed at the bottom. - -“Blub-blub-bub,” I spit. - -“What’s that?” the rope handler hissed quickly. - -“Blub-bub.” - -“What the dickens?... Are you trying to kiss yourself on the back of -the neck?” - -“I’b studk,” I got out. - -“Oh!...” - -“Pud me ub,” I gagged. “I’b fud ud sud.” - -He gave a quick jerk on the rope. Unhooked, I went kerplunk to the -bottom of the chimney. - -Sifting myself from the soot, sort of, I untied the rope and gave it a -sharp jerk. Getting the signal, Scoop pulled the rope up the chimney. I -heard him getting down from the roof. A few moments later he came to -the east window, which I managed to get unfastened. - -“Where are you?” he whispered. - -“Here,” I said, from in front of him. - -“I can’t see you.” - -Of course he couldn’t see me! How could he, when I was seven shades -blacker than the night, itself? - -I told him what had happened to me. I told him how miserable I felt -with the soot in my eyes and nose and mouth and ears. There was pecks -of it down the back of my neck, I told him, and bushels of it clinging -to my clothes. - -He said he was sorry for me. But I could tell from the tone of his -voice that he was giggling to himself. Well, to that point, I guess -that I would have giggled if he had been the unlucky one to get into -the soot. - -Thump! thump! thump! The spy was at work directly below us. There was -need for caution. The wonder was that I hadn’t been heard before this. -For I hadn’t landed quietly at the bottom of the chimney. Two skinned -knees and a skinned nose gave testimony to that. - -Moving stealthily to the door that opened onto the stairs, we squinted -down. His candle stuck in an ink bottle, the old man was standing on a -box tapping the stone wall with a hammer. In the flickering light he -seemed to be more shabby and more hairy than ever. A wolf! That is what -he was—a two-legged wolf. As we watched him, he tapped over a space two -yards square. Marking the spot, he moved his box, beginning work on a -new square. Plainly he was going over every inch of the mill wall in a -systematic search for the puzzle maker’s hidden fortune. - -Did he have a clew to the money’s hiding place? Did he know to a -certainty that the money was cemented into the stone wall? I wondered -to myself as I watched him. - -If the money were in the wall, he would be sure to find it sooner or -later. We had bragged to Mrs. Kelly and the granddaughter that we -wouldn’t let the uncle get away from us with the hidden fortune. But -now I was suddenly uneasy in the thought that he might find the money -ahead of us and escape us. It would be hard to keep track of him every -minute. - -“‘Ten and ten,’” Scoop whispered in my ear. “Do you see anything down -there, Jerry, that looks like ‘ten and ten’?” - -“No,” I breathed. - -“‘Ten and ten.’ Um.... Let me have your flashlight. I’m going to look -around. Keep your eye on him, Jerry.” - -Ten-twenty-thirty minutes passed. I could hear Scoop tiptoeing around -the office. But I didn’t turn my head to see what he was doing. For the -spy needed constant watching. Our goose would be cooked, as the saying -is, if he came upstairs and surprised us. - -Scoop touched me on the back. - -“Jerry, do you notice anything peculiar about this room?” - -“It has an awfully sooty chimney,” I grumbled. - -He chuckled. - -“I wasn’t thinking of the chimney.” - -“Huh!” - -“The room is square.” - -“I knew that.” - -“Ten feet by ten feet.” - -“What?” - -“I measured it. ‘Ten and ten.’ I bet anything you want to bet that the -money is hidden in this room.” - -“In the wall plaster?” - -“Probably.” - -There was a sudden silence from below. Then we heard quick footsteps on -the stairs. - -“Out through the window, Jerry. Quick!” - -We weren’t a moment too soon. - -“Let’s go down the rope,” I shivered, scared clear through. - -“You go down. I’ll follow in a few minutes. I want to peek through the -windows.” - -Sliding to the ground, I waited there until my companion joined me. - -“He came upstairs and went to bed,” Scoop told me. “So I guess he won’t -need any more watching to-night.” - -“He’ll get up at midnight,” I said. - -“What for?” - -“He’s been coming to the brick house every night at midnight.” - -“That’s so. I wonder why he waits till midnight to try the doors. -Queer.” - -“Everything he does is queer,” I returned. - -Scoop nodded. - -“Gennor must have been hard up for a spy to hire him.” - -We went to the tree where the rope was tied. - -“Do you really believe,” I inquired, “that the money is hidden in the -office?” - -“I’d sooner think it’s there than in the stone wall.” - -“The spy must have a clew though.” - -“He probably thinks he has. But it’s plain that we’ve got a better clew -than he has.” - -“How are we going to get the money?” I then inquired. - -Scoop was pulling down the rope, coiling it on his left arm. - -“What puzzles me more than that,” he joked, laughing, “is how in Sam -Hill we’re going to get you cleaned up. You’re a sight, Jerry. Just -wait till Peg and Tom see you! They’ll laugh themselves into a fit.” - -“But you haven’t answered my question,” I hung on. - -“I can’t tell you how we’re going to get the hidden money,” he said, -“for, truthfully, I don’t know. Come on. It’s bedtime.” - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -FELIX GENNOR, JR. - - -The fellows had a lot of fun with me the following morning. Having -given me a suit of his clothes to wear, my own being too filthy for -further use, Tom hunted up an article in the back of Aunt Polly’s cook -book telling how to remove ink stains with sour cream. He said that if -sour cream was good for ink stains it ought to be first-class for soot. -So he and the others plastered sour cream all over my face. Then they -rubbed me with coarse towels. But when they got through with me I was -far from being white. - -“It’ll have to wear off,” I said. - -“Wait till your ma sees you,” grinned Scoop. - -“I can powder my face,” I said, “and make it white.” - -“Hot dog!” cried Tom, and he ran into his aunt’s bedroom and came back -with her powder puff. - -Peg was draped out of a front window. - -“There goes the mail man,” he cried, when I had finished powdering -myself. “Maybe there’s another letter from Aunt Polly. Come on, gang.” - -We went down the path lickety-cut. But there was no letter in the mail -box. It was disappointing. For we had hoped for favorable news. - -“Anyway,” Peg broke the silence, “no news is good news. So let’s look -on the bright side.... What are we going to do this morning?—peddle -soap?” - -While we were talking, making our plans, sort of, an automobile came -into sight from the country, a classy red roadster, driven by a boy our -age. There was a screeching of brakes, and on the instant that the car -came to a skidding stand-still, Tom dove from sight into a lilac bush -beside the path. - -“It’s young Gennor,” he hissed at us from under cover. “Watch your -steps, fellows! He’s up to some trick in stopping here.” - -Maybe Scoop and I and Peg would have looked less dumb if we had been -allowed a few seconds to sort of prepare ourselves to greet the enemy’s -chief with a graceful bow. - -As it was, we stared open-mouthed. So it isn’t at all surprising that -the newcomer mistook us for boobs. We looked it, I imagine. - -He had said something to us in stopping, but this had failed to -register in our minds. And now he followed up, smart-like: - -“What is this place, anyway?—a deaf and dumb asylum?” - -Right off I got his measure. Smart aleck. All swelled up over his pa’s -money. Sort of fed fat on the idea that he could sit in his -two-thousand-dollar roadster and bark orders at common, everyday kids -and make them jump around and wait on him. - -Well, I’m not much of a jumper when I meet a fellow like that! - -“Did you say something?” I purred, sort of letting my neck out at him. - -“I asked you,” he said, “if the town up ahead is Tutter.” - -“Is it?” I inquired, turning to Scoop. - -“It was,” he nodded, “yesterday morning at this time.” - -“Tutter’s the burg I’m looking for,” informed smarty. - -“When did you lose it?” I inquired, innocent-like. - -“Lose it?” - -“You said you were looking for it.” - -I was supposed to get wabbly knees under the sharp scowl that he shot -at me. But the old knee joints were out of wabbles this morning. - -“Don’t git fresh with me,” he said darkly, “or I may taken a sudden -notion to push your face clean through the back of your head.” - -“All in one push?” I inquired, steady-like. - -His legs were out of sight in the car, so I didn’t know what he -measured standing up. But I figured that he wasn’t much bigger than me. -And what if he was? I wasn’t scared of him. - -“I guess,” he said, important-like, “that you don’t know who I am.” - -“Tell me,” I returned, “and I’ll fall over in surprise.” - -“My name’s Felix Gennor, Jr. I suppose you’ve heard of the Gennor Radio -Corporation.” - -“Yes, indeed,” I said. - -“Well, that’s us,” and he sort of pumped his chest full of air like a -toad. He was good! “My father,” he added, “owns the whole concern. -Millionaire. Buys me everything I want. Gave me this little bus for a -birthday present.” - -Little bus! I wondered what he called a Ford. - -“And if you like the looks of Tutter,” I said, trying to get a line on -him, “is your father going to buy you that for your next birthday?” - -“If the town looks good to me,” he said, “and my proposition is -accepted, we may build one of our factories here.” - -“A radio factory?” - -“Our new radio toy factory,” he informed, with an important flourish of -his hand. - -I caught Scoop’s signal to go cautious. - -“What kind of radio toys are you going to make in this new factory?” I -inquired. - -“Talking toys, of course.” - -“Like ... cats?” - -“Certainly.” - -“And ... chickens?” - -He nodded. - -“And ... frogs?” - -“Possibly.” - -“You’re not sure about the frogs?” - -“That’s a detail to be taken up later. I’m like my father,” and he -swaggered his shoulders, sort of. “We don’t bother with details. We -hire men to do that.” - -My, but he was smart! - -“I see,” I nodded. “Maybe,” I added, looking into his eyes, “you’ll -give me a detail job in this new factory that you’re going to build.” - -He gave a mean laugh. - -“Sure thing,” he promised. “I’ll put you to work winding up our -electric fans.” - -I wanted to tell him that he’d likely find his “fan” wound up before I -got through with him. But I kept shut on that. - -“Evidently,” I said, instead, “you’re the general manager and the board -of directors and the vice president of the company.” - -“Not—er—exactly. But I run things more or less. My father is teaching -me the business. Told me I could skip school this month. He says I have -a good solid head.” - -“He told the truth,” I nodded. - -It was good and solid, all right! Like a block of wood. - -“My father went to New York yesterday morning. So I decided to come -down here and close the—er—toy factory deal.” - -This free talk puzzled me. He seemed not to know who we were. Could -this indeed be the case? And was it a happenstance, sort of, that he -had stopped here at the Ricks’ mail box, instead of a trick, as Tom had -suspected? - -I was not long left in doubt. - -“Know a family around here by the name of Ricks?” smarty inquired. - -Scoop on the moment draped himself over the mail box’s lettered cover. - -“Yes,” he put in ahead of me, “we have a family in town by that name. A -man, a woman and a boy. The man is an inventor.” - -“That’s the fellow I want to see.” - -“Is he doing some inventing for you?” quizzed Scoop. - -“Er—something on that order. What direction is his home from here?” - -“Are you going to put up at the hotel while you’re in Tutter?” - -“Of course.” - -“Well, they’ll tell you at the hotel where Mr. Ricks lives.” - -As the roadster disappeared into town, Tom tumbled out of the lilac -bush. - -“The big bluffer! Yes, he’ll build a radio toy factory, all right, if -he can steal Pa’s talking frog.” - -Scoop followed the dust cloud with curling lips. - -“Jerry,” he said, “I’ve already made up my mind to get rich. For a -fellow with money can have a lot of fun doing a lot of good. But if -ever I act like that, I want you to take me out and pulverize me.” - -“The pleasure will be all mine,” I grinned. - -“Evidently,” continued Scoop, bending his thoughts to the situation, -“he hasn’t talked with the spy or he should have known who we were. And -plainly he knows nothing definite about the talking frog. Jerry’s -questions brought that out. But he knows that Mr. Ricks is working on a -radio toy. And if we’re to believe him, he’ll be around shortly to make -some kind of a proposition.” - -“I don’t trust him,” Tom said darkly. - -“Nor do I,” Scoop said quickly. “But we’ll listen. And maybe we’ll find -out what he means by all of this toy factory talk.” - -“I hope he starts something rough,” I spoke up. “Sweet doctor! It’ll be -fun mixing up with him.” - -Scoop caught my eye. - -“Remember what I told you, Jerry? I said it wouldn’t surprise me to -have the enemy send another spy down here. I didn’t miss it very far.” - -“We’ll have two to watch now,” I said, “instead of one.” - -On entering the kitchen a few minutes later we discovered that some -one, in the time of our absence, had picked the lock on the cellar -door. - -Scoop’s face was as white as a sheet as he dashed down the stairs. - -“It’s gone,” he cried from the cellar. “The spy has been here and dug -up the talking frog!” - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -THE PRISONER - - -We felt pretty blue and sick-like over the theft of the talking frog. -For now Tom and his pa and Aunt Polly would have to go to the -poorhouse. The invention that was to have put them on Easy Street had -fallen into the enemy’s hands. It would earn a million dollars for the -dishonest president of the Gennor Radio Corporation. But poor Mr. Ricks -would get not one penny. - -“I told you that young Gennor was tricky,” cried Tom, as we stood -beside the hole in the cellar’s dirt floor. “Oh, why didn’t we suspect -that he had the spy in here digging up the frog!” and the speaker’s -arms went up in despair. - -Scoop looked dizzy. But his thinker wasn’t wholly stalled. And to tune -it up he circled the cellar, tugging at his hair. - -“We’ve got to act quick,” he said to Tom, “if we hope to save your pa’s -invention.” He turned to me. “Jerry, make a bee-line for the hotel and -keep an eye on Gennor. If he leaves the hotel, get onto his trail.” - -“And what about you fellows?” I inquired. - -“As I said a moment ago Gennor may not know that the spy has the -talking frog. But he soon will know it unless we cut in. For the spy, -knowing that the other is due to arrive in town, will go to the hotel -to report. So keep your eyes peeled, Jerry, for the soap man. If he -comes into the hotel with a package under his arm, grab it and run. -We’ll wait here to receive mister smarty in case he decides to pay us a -visit. Under the circumstances I guess we won’t be put into jail if we -make him comfortable in one of the upper rooms and keep him there for a -day or two.” - -My eyes were popping. - -“You mean,” I cried, excited, “that you’re going to make him a -prisoner?” - -Scoop gave a queer, tight-lipped grin. - -“Something on that order,” he said, slowly wagging his head. “Only we -won’t call him a prisoner. He’ll be our guest. See? And we’ll be very -attentive to him and feed him on the best there is in the house and -read him to sleep if necessary.” - -I thought of the old man in the mill. - -“Are you going to prison-up the spy, too?” - -“Whatever is necessary,” said Scoop, “to recover the talking frog.” - -“Maybe he’s found the hidden fortune,” I cried, “and is now making his -get-away.” - -“You look after Gennor,” Scoop told me, “and we’ll look after the spy. -Eh, Peg?” - -“I’ll keep an eye on mister spy,” waggled Peg, his jaw squared. - -“Hot dog!” I cried, jumping for the stairs. And I ran lickety-cut into -town. - -Coming within sight of the Commercial House, which is a rather small -building and not big and showy like the towering city hotels, I slowed -up. For I was puffing like a loose-jointed merry-go-round engine. -Getting my wind, I walked naturally to the hotel door and squinted -inside. - -But contrary to what I had thought would be the case, Gennor wasn’t in -the hotel lobby. Nor was his car parked in front. I was scared for a -moment in the thought that he had already met the spy and had left town -with the stolen invention. - -The hotel manager got his eyes on me and grinned. - -“Howdy, Jerry,” he said, good-natured-like. - -If you can imagine a man so tall that he has to close up like a -jackknife in order to get into a regular-size bed, that is Mr. Rufus -Tomlinson, who shares the ownership of the Tutter hotel with his son, -Mr. Charley Tomlinson. And he is about three points skinnier than an -underweight toothpick. In our Halloween parades he usually takes the -part of Uncle Sam. That is how he got his nickname. - -Realizing that the sooner I located young Gennor the better for our -purpose, I came quickly into the small lobby, squinting here and there. - -“Where have you got him hid?” I inquired, as a starter. - -“Heh?” said Uncle Sam, scrooching and craning his neck. - -“I heard he was in town,” I said. “So I came on the run to take a -squint at him.” - -“Take a squint at who?” - -“Felix Gennor, Jr.,” I returned, “the wonderful boy millionaire from -Chicago.” - -Uncle Sam’s face went sort of screwed up. - -“Um ...” he mumbled, meditative-like. “Didn’t know Mr. Gennor was a -millionaire. Mebby I ought to ‘a’ put him in the bridal soot.” - -I pretended surprise. - -“What,” I cried, “you don’t mean to tell me that you put him in an -ordinary room? Now that’s too bad. For he’ll be offended, and we won’t -get the new toy factory.” - -“Toy factory?” scrooched Uncle Sam. - -“I understand,” I went on, “that he intends to build a radio toy -factory here if he likes the town.” - -The other could hardly swallow this. - -“Him? Pshaw! He’s jest a boy.” - -“His father,” I said, “is backing him in whatever he does.” - -A crafty light came into the narrowed eyes. - -“Toy factory, heh? Um....” - -“It will be a big thing for the town,” I waggled. “And those lots of -yours down by the depot will be worth a thousand dollars apiece.” - -“I was jest thinkin’ of them lots.... Has he got an option on a factory -site?” - -“Not yet,” I said, “for he’s just arrived.” - -“Of course; of course. Um....” - -“The thing for you to do,” I said, “is to show him a lot of attention -here in the hotel. Then he’ll like Tutter and we’ll get the toy -factory. See?” - -“I’ll move his luggage into the bridal soot right away,” nodded Uncle -Sam, shuffling eager-like. - -“How are you fixed for a bell-boy?” I inquired. - -“Hain’t got one at present.” - -“He suspects that this is a regular hotel,” I said, “And whoever heard -of a hotel without a bell-boy?” - -“Mebby——” - -“All right,” I jumped in, “you’ve got me won over. So tote out the -uniform and I’ll flop into it.” - -The other looked sort of dizzy. - -“Uniform?” he repeated. “Um.... I hain’t got no sech thing.” - -“Then,” I said, starting for the door, “the new bell-boy will have to -furnish his own uniform.” - -I was filled with giggles as I ran down the street to our house. For I -had a blinger of an idea. Finding the doors locked, I went in through a -cellar window. And without a second’s delay I beat it for the attic to -get the messenger-boy suit. - -I had worn this suit in a school play. It was made of bright red cloth, -with brass buttons up and down the front of a monkey jacket, and gold -braid on the seams of the long trousers. Also the peakless cap was -decorated with braid and buttons. - -I got dressed. And rubbing the powder from my face I grinned at the -young darkey whose face was reflected in the bedroom mirror. - -“Who are you?” I inquired. - -“Ah’s the new bell-boy,” he replied, “an’ mah name is Gawge.” - -“All right, George,” I nodded, “let’s see you grin.” - -“Ya’, suh, boss; ya’, suh.” - -“Fine!” I laughed; and rolling my other clothes into a bundle, I cut a -bee-line for the hotel. - -The lobby was full of excited men. For in the time of my absence Uncle -Sam had ’phoned to the mayor and the president of the Chamber of -Commerce and a lot more prominent business men. They were buzzing -around young Gennor. And did he like it? I’ll tell the world! - -“Yes,” he said, throaty-like, trying hard not to pull in his chest, “my -father is the president of the Gennor Radio Corporation of Chicago. And -we may build a factory here. It all depends.” - -“I’m sure,” said the mayor, “that the town will meet you more than -halfway.” - -“Yes, indeed,” spoke up Mr. Fisher of the Chamber of Commerce. “If we -could—ah—arrange to discuss the matter with your father——” - -I knew why he paused. He couldn’t quite convince himself that he would -gain anything for the town by talking business with this boy. He was -used to doing business with men. - -But in the next ten minutes young Gennor’s swaggering lingo had them -all guessing. About every other word was “I” this or “we” that. To hear -him tell it, the world contained just three wonderful people: Felix -Gennor, Sr., was one and Felix Gennor, Jr., was the other two. - -And convinced that they had everything to gain and very little to lose, -the business men got their heads together and cooked up a program to -entertain the young visitor. They figured, I guess, that the more they -did for him the better pleased his father would be. There was to be a -get-together banquet in the hotel dining room; and one of the excited -aldermen rounded up the band boys. Into the lobby they came, horns and -bass drum and everything, and another such whanging and banging and -tooting you never heard in all your life. I tell you it was exciting. -Poor Mrs. Tomlinson came running from the kitchen, her glasses hanging -on one ear, to see if the house was tumbling down. My cap got knocked -off in the jam and bent out of shape under some one’s foot. And the -mayor cheered so loud that he shot his false teeth down the back of Mr. -Fisher’s neck. - -Gennor was the only one who didn’t enjoy the music. For he had to quit -talking about himself and listen. - -Well, in the course of an hour the band boys sort of ran dry on tunes -and the mayor and the others went home to get their speeches written -down and memorized for the coming banquet, to which, of course, Felix -Gennor, Sr., was to be invited, the guest of honor. - -“Guess I’ll go up to my room,” Gennor said to Uncle Sam. - -Here was my chance. - -“Ya’, suh, boss; ya’, suh,” I said, polite-like, popping into view. I -bobbed my head and grinned, just as I had been taught to do in the -school play. And if ever there was a surprised man, it was Uncle Sam -Tomlinson! - -Getting the key to the bridal suite, I started for the stairs, -motioning to the other to follow me. Unlocking the door, I fussed -around inside of the room just like a regular bell-boy, raising the -windows and switching the lights on and off. - -And what do you know if I didn’t get a ten-cent tip! - -“Thanks, boss,” I grinned, bowing and scraping. - -Gennor’s eyes were narrowed suspiciously. - -“Haven’t I seen you before?” he inquired. - -“Ya’, suh, boss; ya’, suh.” - -“Where?” - -“Ya’, suh, boss; ya’, suh.” - -Scowling with disgust, he stripped off his coat. And having no further -excuse to remain in the room, I reluctantly reached for the doorknob. - -But the other stopped me. - -“Just a minute,” he said, running water into the lavatory basin. - -“Ya’, suh, boss; ya’——” - -“Shut up! You’ve said that seventeen times in the last minute.” - -“Ya’, suh——” - -I dodged the bar of soap that he fired at me and grinned. - -Drying his hands, he dropped into a seat at the writing desk and worded -a short note, enclosing it in an addressed envelope. - -“Know where that man lives?” he inquired, handing me the envelope. - -“Ya’, suh,” I nodded, after a glance at the name. “Mistah Ricks am the -funny gen’man who makes machinery things.” - -“That’s him,” said Gennor. “See that he gets this right away. And if -you bring back an answer, I’ll be likely to find another dime for you.” - -“Ya’, suh——” - -“Git!” he threatened. - -I had no intention of leaving the hotel with that note. For the spy -might come while I was away. The thing to do, I concluded, was to find -out what the note contained and ’phone to Scoop. - -A few moments later I came quickly into the empty lobby and put in a -call under Mr. Ricks’ number. - -“Hello,” said Scoop. - -“This is Jerry,” I informed; and keeping my voice low, I quickly told -the other what had happened. - -“Read the note,” he instructed, crisp-like. - -I went through the note hurriedly, keeping my eyes on the door. - -“Evidently,” said Scoop, “he doesn’t know that Mr. Ricks is out of -town. And that bears me out in my theory that he hasn’t talked with the -spy. Have you seen anything of the soap man, Jerry?” - -I told him that I hadn’t. - -“Peg went over to the mill about an hour ago. We haven’t seen anything -of him since.” - -There was some more talk. Scoop told me what to do. And in line with -his instructions, I kept out of sight for ten-fifteen minutes. Then I -went puffing to the door of the bridal suite. - -“Well?” grunted young Gennor, when my knock had gained permission to -enter. - -“Mistah Ricks wasn’t at home, suh. But you all am to come to his house -to talk business. The folks say so.” - -The listener scowled. - -“What? Me chase after that hick inventor? I guess not! If he wants to -get in on my proposition he’s got to come here.” - -Something had to be done to make Gennor change his mind. And I jumped -into a scheme of my own. - -“Mah lan’,” I said, rolling my eyes, “you-all should ’a’ seen the funny -talkin’ frowg Mistah Ricks is gone an’ ’vented. Ya’, suh, boss.” - -A cunning look camped in Gennor’s eyes. - -“Did you see the talking frog?” - -“Ya’, suh,” I replied truthfully. - -“Um.... And you say Mr. Ricks wants me to come to his house?” - -“The folks say they hain’t a-goin’ to sell the frowg to the other -gen’man till they is talked with you-all, suh.” - -“What other man do you mean?” - -“Aw calc’lates as heow he am a Milwaukee man, suh.” - -Gennor said something under his breath and grabbed his hat. - -“What street do I take?” he inquired. - -My directions put a sick look into his face. - -“What?” he screeched. “You say that Mr. Ricks lives in the big brick -house on the edge of town?” - -“Ya’, suh,” I grinned. - -And on the moment I wanted to let out a tickled whoop. For I knew well -enough what was in his mind. But, of course, I kept shut. - -“Git out of here,” he said, savage-like, giving me a shove. And -following me into the hall, he put the key of the locked room into his -pocket and stomped down the stairs. - -When he was well out of sight in the street, I ’phoned to Scoop. Then I -went to the basement and skinned out of my fancy uniform, putting on -the clothes that I had brought from home. Hiding the uniform behind a -flour barrel, I whitened my face with the flour and crawled through a -window into the alley. - -Overtaking Gennor, I kept well behind. And when he turned in at the -brick house and cranked the door-bell, I circled to the rear and -tumbled in through the kitchen door. - -The visitor was talking loudly in the front hall. - -“Why didn’t you tell me,” he demanded, ugly-like, “that old Ricks lived -here?” - -“Is that a riddle,” returned Scoop, “or a question?” - -“Don’t git fresh with me.... Where’s the old man? I came to talk -business.” - -“Oh!...” said Scoop. “Have a seat.” - -“I understand,” said Gennor, after a moment, “that Ricks has perfected -his talking frog.” - -“Well?” - -“I’m here to buy it.” - -“Mr. Ricks may consider your offer.” - -Gennor raised in his seat. - -“May consider it? Well, he better jump at it if he knows what’s good -for him.” - -“I’ll tell him,” said Scoop. - -“Bring him here and I’ll tell him myself.” - -“He isn’t in the house just now.” - -There was a short silence. - -“Say,” scowled young Gennor, “if it’s your game to hold me up, you’re -going to get left. See?” - -“Mr. Ricks,” said Scoop, “wants only what is coming to him.” - -“This invention of his belongs to our company, anyway.” - -“That’s what you say.” - -“We hired him to do some work on a radio transmitter. And the talking -toy idea came to him while he was on our pay-roll. My father says so. -But we want to be fair. And we’re willing to pay him ten thousand -dollars for his invention.” - -“Ten thousand dollars,” said Scoop, “wouldn’t interest Mr. Ricks.” - -“And if we build our new toy factory here in Tutter,” Gennor added, -“we’ll put him in charge of it.” - -“Did your father send you here to tell us that?” - -“You ask him.” - -There was another silence. - -“Suppose,” suggested Scoop, “that we get down to brass tacks.” - -“Now you’re talkin’,” said Gennor. - -“You say that you’re ready to pay ten thousand dollars for Mr. Ricks’ -invention and put him in charge of a factory to be built in Tutter?” - -“Yes,” nodded Gennor, “if we build the factory here, he’ll be appointed -manager.” - -“But you aren’t sure that the factory will be built here?” - -“We’re going into the radio toy game on a big scale. That was decided -at the last directors’ meeting. And it was further decided to locate -old Ricks and make him an offer not to exceed ten thousand dollars. But -we haven’t decided where we’ll build the new factory. It may be here. -It may be in Chicago.” - -“I understand,” said Scoop. “And does that complete your proposition?” - -“I’ve got a paper——” - -“Just keep it in your pocket. For we’re signing no papers to-day.” - -“My! You talk as though you are somebody.” - -“I’m a friend of Tom Ricks’,” returned Scoop, quiet-like, “if that -means anything to you.” - -“It doesn’t,” and Gennor gave a mean laugh. - -“Notwithstanding,” said Scoop, in the same even tone, “it means -something to Tom. For I’ve promised to stand by him and protect his -father’s invention.” - -“No one is trying to steal it.” - -“I’m not so sure about that.” - -“Say! Who do you mean?” - -“I was looking at you.” - -“I’ll push your face in.” - -“No danger of that,” sneered Scoop. “You might hire somebody to do it -for you, but you wouldn’t dare to tackle the job yourself.” - -Gennor sprang to his feet. - -“You’re a big bluff,” Scoop went on, in the same sneering tone of -voice. “But you haven’t fooled me in the least with this -ten-thousand-dollar offer. For why should your father offer to buy the -invention when he has hired spies to steal it?” - -“I’ll git you for this,” screeched Gennor. And when Tom and I ran into -the room, he sneered: “Three against one.” - -“Three against one,” scowled Scoop, “is a fair game as compared to what -your father is doing.” - -“He never intended to steal the invention.” - -“We happen to know better,” said Scoop. “But don’t pat yourself on the -back when I tell you that the spies succeeded in getting the frog away -from us. For your man will have no chance to turn it over to you; and -that, of course, is what brought you to town.” - -Gennor’s eyes held an expression of cunning satisfaction as he backed -to the door. And wheeling suddenly he grabbed the knob. - -“I locked the door,” said Scoop, “when you came in.” - -The defeated one flew into a rage. - -“This is a holdup! But you’ll get no money from my father.” - -“We don’t expect or want any of his money. But we do intend to keep you -here till we recover the talking frog.” - -“You’ll go to jail for this.” - -“So you say.... Git up those stairs.” - -“I won’t.” - -But he did. For, bully that he was, he went scared to death when our -leader started to roll up his shirt sleeves. - -Scoop locked the bedroom door on the prisoner and put the key in his -pocket. - -“Better go outside, Tom,” he advised, “and watch the windows. For we -don’t want him to wave a distress signal or otherwise attract -attention.” - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -CHASED BY A GHOST - - -Following the enemy chief’s imprisonment in Aunt Polly’s spare -bedchamber, I went to the old mill to tell Peg the exciting news and to -find out from him how things were at his end. - -We certainly had our hands full. Plainly, there would be no more soap -peddling for the present. I was kind of disappointed in that, for we -had earned several dollars as assistant beautifiers. And it is always -pleasing to a boy to earn money. - -I found my big chum on his stomach in the mill-yard weeds. The spy was -in the mill he told me. - -“You can hear him if you sharpen your ears. He’s been thumping on the -mill wall all morning.” - -“Queer,” I reflected, “that he should steal the talking frog before he -had located the hidden fortune.” - -“He probably had his orders to steal it to-day.” - -“Orders from young Gennor?” - -“Of course.” - -“Then why doesn’t he deliver the stolen frog at the hotel?” - -“Give him time. The day’s young.” - -I told the other about my bell-boy job. - -“I bet it’s fun,” Peg grinned. - -“I couldn’t have worked it so slick,” I said, “if I hadn’t gotten mixed -up in the soot.” - -On the way to the hotel I met the Stricker gang. - -“How’s Mr. Gallywiggle?” grinned Bid. “Is he still manufacturing beauty -soap?” - -“I hope so,” I returned quickly, giving the questioner a cold eye. “For -you certainly need a pile of it.” - -“Mr. Gallywiggle,” he recited, flourishing his hands, “the man who has -taken more warts from women’s noses than all of the talking machines in -the world. The man who——” - -“How did you find out about it?” I cut in. - -“Oh,” he laughed, winking at his companions, “I met old fuzzy-wuzzy -yesterday when I delivered Miss Prindle’s beauty letter to him at the -old mill.” - -My eyes went narrowed in sudden suspicion. Then, as quickly, I told -myself that I was foolish to let myself be troubled by such thoughts. -The Strickers might have delivered the letter, but the letter itself -was no trick of theirs. It couldn’t be a trick, I concluded. For I had -seen the transformed dressmaker with my own eyes. - -“Did you know,” grinned Bid, “that Douglas Fairbanks is in town?” - -I kept shut. For I wasn’t going to bite on his old gag, whatever it -was. - -“He’s here to sign up Miss Prindle,” the gang leader went on. “He wants -her to be his leading lady. Five hundred thousand dollars a year. -Better than pumping a sewing machine, hey? Oh, I tell you, your beauty -soap is wonderful stuff.” - -“Beat it,” I scowled. “You can’t string me.” - -“You’re awful smart, aren’t you?” - -“I’m not bragging about it.” - -The leader laughed and gave his companions another wink. - -“We know something that you don’t know.” - -“Haw! haw! haw!” went the gang. “Beauty soap. Haw! haw! haw!” - -They didn’t know much I told myself, turning stiffly away. - -While I was on bell-boy duty that afternoon a factory site committee -came to the hotel and waited restlessly in the lobby for more than an -hour. But Gennor, of course, failed to keep his appointment. Finally -they went away, muttering and wagging their heads. - -Evening came. - -“Whar’s he gone to?” inquired Uncle Sam, sort of puzzled-like, when -Gennor failed to appear on time at the supper table. - -“Don’t you know?” I countered, acting innocent. - -This brought a scowl into the thin face. - -“If I knowed,” he snapped at me, “I wouldn’t be askin’, would I?” - -It came eleven o’clock and the hotel was closed for the night. Thus -released, I got into my everyday clothes and beat it for the brick -house. - -The shadows under the whispering pine trees seemed to crowd in on me as -I ran up the path. My heart was in my mouth, sort of. I had the feeling -that something was watching me—a hidden, formidable something. And on -the instant all of the stories that I had heard about Mr. Matson’s -ghost jumped helter-skelter through my mind. - -I was trembling when I came to the porch. I ran for the door. And -finding it locked, I beat on the panels and cried to my companions to -let me in. - -Footsteps sounded on the hall floor. - -“It’s Jerry,” I cried. - -“Just a minute,” said Scoop, fumbling with the key. - -And now comes the part of my story that always gives Mother the -shivers! - -There was a sound from behind. And wheeling, I got the scare of my -life. For coming at me out of the shadows was a white, vapory, gliding -thing, shaped like a man, yet without arms or legs. - -I screeched and pounded. And every second that Scoop fumbled with the -lock the ghost glided closer and closer. Its invisible feet were now on -the porch steps. I could detect a pair of horrible, consuming eyes. - -“I’ve been using the wrong key,” muttered the fumbler. - -Well, I guess I would have jumped right through the door if it hadn’t -swung open. - -I tumbled in a heap at my companion’s feet. Sort of clutching his legs -for protection. - -“The ghost!” I screeched. “Shut it out—quick!” - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -THE CRAZY PUZZLE ROOM - - -In the excited moments that immediately followed my tumbling entrance -into the brick house, I panted out a story of what I had seen. - -Scoop shook his head. - -“Your imagination, Jerry. For no one ever saw a real ghost.” - -I told him that it was no case of imagination. - -“Then,” he concluded, “it was some one playing ghost.” - -“But it had no arms or legs. And its eyes were hollow wells.” - -“A make-up,” he waggled. Passing quickly to a window, he pressed his -nose against the glass. “I can’t see anything.” - -“Maybe,” spoke up Tom, “it was the spy.” - -“If it was,” Scoop said quickly, “Peg will know about it.” - -I looked around the room, missing my big chum for the first time. - -“He’s watching the mill,” Scoop told me when I inquired where the -missing one was. - -By this time I was well over my scare. And I felt pretty foolish. For, -as Scoop had said, there was no such thing as a real ghost. What I had -seen was some one playing ghost. - -But to what ends? - -We put out the lights and peered through the windows. But the ghost had -vanished. Nor could we in the moment detect a single suspicious outside -sound. - -I hadn’t been in the house very long before Peg signaled on the window -for us to let him in. - -“Where were you,” I asked quickly, “when the spy chased me?” - -He stared at me. - -“Chased you? What do you mean?” - -I told him about the ghost. - -“It wasn’t the spy,” he waggled. “For the old man hasn’t been out of -the mill for hours. It was only within the past ten minutes that he -quit his wall pounding and went to bed.” - -“The dickens!” cried Scoop, bewildered. “If it wasn’t the spy, who was -it?” - -“Maybe,” suggested Tom, “it was a second spy, one that we haven’t -seen.” - -“An unknown spy!” cried Scoop. There was a short silence. “You may be -right. But what’s his object in playing ghost?” - -It was indeed a mystery. In our conversation we advanced various -scattered theories. The unknown spy, working alone, didn’t know that -the talking frog had been stolen; he was trying to frighten us away in -order to gain possession of the invention; or, if he knew that the frog -had been stolen by his companion spy, he was working to gain the -release of his chief, our upstairs prisoner. Such, in substance, were -our theories. But how widely we missed the mark was proved by later -events. - -On Sunday, the following day, we took turns guarding the old mill. For -we were determined that the spy shouldn’t escape from us with the -recovered fortune if it were in our power to prevent it. Then, too, we -talked of ways of getting into the mill, without the soap man’s -knowledge, to hunt for the stolen invention. We were quite sure that -the talking frog was there. - -We still had the rope that Scoop and I had used the night that we got -into the mill by way of the roof. But we didn’t dare to use it. It was -hardly to be doubted that the soap man had discovered the unlocked -window and the pile of soot in the fireplace. We may have left further -evidence of our visit. And, in watching for us, he might cut our rope. - -Our prisoner gave us no trouble. He seemed to take his confinement as a -lark. We would gain nothing by holding him, he said. We would have to -turn him loose sooner or later. So why should he worry? He was being -well treated and was getting three square meals a day. - -Then Monday morning came. We had given no thought to school. And when -the first bell rang, we stared at one another blankly. - -“What are we going to do with Gennor?” puzzled Scoop. “We dassn’t skip -school and stand guard here; and if we leave him alone he’ll surely -escape.” - -“I wouldn’t want to go to school,” I spoke up, “and leave him here by -himself. Suppose the house should burn down! If anything were to happen -to him, it would go hard with us.” - -Scoop grimaced and shrugged his shoulders. - -“I guess,” he concluded, “that the only thing for us to do is to turn -him loose, as he has been expecting us to do. Blame it! Our luck’s -against us.” - -“It was a foolish trick,” Peg criticized, “to imprison him in the first -place. For we haven’t gained anything.” - -“We’ve kept him from getting his hands on the talking frog.” - -“Yes, but we haven’t got the frog. We’re right where we were last -Saturday.” - -“We know where the frog is.” - -“We think the mill spy has it. But we aren’t sure.” - -“I’ve tried to pump Gennor,” Scoop said, “but I didn’t get anywhere. -He’s shrewd. When I asked him how many spies his father had hired, he -laughed at me.” - -Our prisoner, naturally, was very much elated over our decision to turn -him loose. But in leading up to the proposed release, our leader, to -protect us, made the enemy promise to leave town. - -“Which is a thing you’ll want to do anyway,” Scoop said. “For the -Tutter business men will make it pretty hot for you when they learn how -you fooled them.” - -“Who said I fooled them?” bluffed Gennor. - -“You made them think that you were going to build a toy factory here.” - -“Maybe we will.” - -“That’s hot air and you know it.” - -Gennor broke his promise about leaving town. And when we met him in the -street that noon he gave us the horselaugh. - -I’ll hand it to him for having nerve. For what do you know if he hadn’t -taken out a ten-day option on a factory site! As a result, everybody in -town was talking excitedly about the proposed new toy factory. And no -one talked any louder or longer than Gennor himself. - -“He must have the talking frog,” I said, gloomy-like. “Otherwise he -wouldn’t be so sure of himself.” - -“Yes,” said Tom, his face white, “we’re licked.” - -“Not yet,” waggled Scoop. “We’ve got a chance of winning out if your pa -and Aunt Polly get to Washington first.” - -This thought brought some small satisfaction. But our spirits went -baggy at the knees when a telegram came while we were eating dinner. - -The inventor, Aunt Polly wired, had not been located. And the little -old lady was now searching for him in Charleston, South Carolina. - -Peg had been over to the old mill. - -“The spy’s still on the job,” he told us, coming into the house when we -were washing the dinner dishes. - -His mention of the spy filled me with sudden anger. - -“Why don’t we get him out of there?” I cried. “We’ll monkey around -until he finds the money and beats it.” - -The front door bell rang. - -“It’s Mrs. Kelly,” Scoop told us, squinting under the door curtain. - -The woman had a worried look as she came into the house. - -“Sure, I thought I’d stop in an’ find out what you boys have been -doin’. For several days have passed an’ I haven’t heard a word from -you. It’s sick I am with worry in the fear that the rascally twin -brother will git away from here with the money.” - -“He’s still searching for it,” Scoop told the visitor, “but, lucky for -us, he isn’t doing his searching in the right place.” - -“No?” - -“We know where the money is, Mrs. Kelly.” - -“You do?” - -“Have you ever been in the old mill?” - -“Many times.” - -“Then you should know about the office.” - -“Office?” - -“The small building on the roof.” - -“You mean the crazy puzzle room.” - -“What’s that?” cried Scoop, straightening. - -“Sure, the buildin’ that you just mentioned was put up when Mrs. Matson -was alive. She wouldn’t let the ould gintleman mess around the house -with his puzzles, so he built himself a room on the roof of his mill -where he could work undisturbed. And because his wife said that he was -fiddlin’ away his time like a crazy man, the new workshop was called -the crazy puzzle room.” - -“I was told,” said Scoop, “that it was an office.” - -“Sure, the ould gintleman would have been crazy, indeed, to have built -an office on the roof of his mill! No, the buildin’ never was intended -for an office, though a lot of people got that idea. It was, as I have -just told you, a workroom.” - -“We think the money is hid in the room’s plastered walls,” said Scoop. - -“An’ what gives you that idea?” - -“Because the room is ten feet square.” - -Mrs. Kelly knitted her forehead. - -“‘Under ten an’ ten,’” she muttered, thinking. Her eyes lighted up. -“Sure, the money is under the floor, boys, not in the wall.” - -“Under the floor?” cried Scoop. - -“Deacon Pillpopper came out to call on me the other day to see if he -could solve the Bible’s secret; and as soon as he set eyes on the -marked verses he said their meanin’ was ‘under ten an’ ten,’ and not -just ‘ten an’ ten.’” - -“‘Under ten and ten,’” repeated Scoop, his eyes dancing. “You’re right, -Mrs. Kelly. The penciled marks were under the chapter headings and -verses. ‘Under ten and ten.’ Hot dog! We can find the money in a -jiffy.” - -“But how are we going to get the spy out of the mill?” I spoke up. - -Laughing, Scoop told us his plan. - -“I shall be on needles an’ pins,” worried Mrs. Kelly, “until I learn -how you come out. Be careful, boys. Don’t let the ould scoundrel come -in an’ surprise you.” - -When the visitor had gone, we got together a collection of axes, -crowbars and hammers. We would need these tools when the time came to -tear up the office floor. - -“Now,” grinned Scoop, “we’ll go to school by way of the old mill and -have a chat with soapy. He’ll be tickled, I imagine, to learn that -we’re going to do some more soap peddling for him.” - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - -THE TEN-RING PUZZLE - - -As on another day, we found the mill’s tenant cooking his food over the -smoky oil stove. - -“What?” he scowled, pretending surprise at sight of us. “Be you boys -alive yet? I figured you was all dead an’ buried.” - -We knew what he meant. He was grouchy because we hadn’t been working -for him lately. - -“We’re in school now,” Scoop said. “But we’ll work for you to-night -after four o’clock if you want us to.” - -“Um.... After four o’clock, hey? I’ll be lookin’ fur you.” - -“We’ve covered the whole town,” our leader followed up, “so we’ll have -to work in the country.” - -“You kin work anywhere in the country fur all of me.” - -Scoop scratched his head. - -“A thing I hate about the country,” he said, “is the distance between -the farmhouses. It takes so long to get from one house to another that -a fellow can’t do enough business to make it pay.” - -“You ought to have bicycles,” the old man said. - -“What we need,” Scoop said, “is a horse and buggy.” - -The faded eyes were greedy in their expression. - -“Mebby I kin let you borry Romeo.” - -“I hate to drive other people’s horses,” hesitated Scoop. “For I’m not -a first-class driver.” Then he brightened. “I’ve got it!” - -“Um....” - -“You can do the driving and we will do the peddling.” - -“Um....” - -“We ought to sell at least ten dollars’ worth,” Scoop ran on, sort of -letting the “ten dollars” rumble around under his tongue. It made it -sound bigger. “And to pay you for driving us around in your buggy, -we’ll take only ten cents out of every quarter.” - -“Um....” - -“We’ll be here a few minutes after four. So be sure and have Romeo -hitched up. For we don’t want to waste any time.” - -It was our leader’s scheme for two of us to go with the soap man while -the other pair tore up the puzzle room floor. It would be exciting to -find the murdered man’s hidden fortune. And, of course, we all wanted -to stay in town. So, to be fair, we drew cuts. In this way it was -decided that Tom and I were to go into the country while Scoop and Peg -went to the mill. I was disappointed, but I didn’t say anything. For a -fellow can’t expect to have things his own way all the time. - -But I soon lost my depression. For on the way to school I got a sudden -idea. I told the other fellows about it. If we could work it, it was -very probable that Tom and I could get back to town in time to help -with the treasure hunting, leaving the soap man in the country. - -By running, I had time, before the last bell rang, to go to Dad’s -brickyard office. He wasn’t there. But I told his stenographer to ask -him for me to take my bicycle along with him in the auto when he drove -to the east clay pit that afternoon, leaving the wheel at the Crandon -farm. I was intending to go to the Crandon farm in a buggy, I explained -to Miss Tubbs, and wanted the bicycle to ride home on. She promised to -deliver my message. I have a fine pa. We do things for each other. I -knew I could depend on him. - -When I was passing into the school room that noon, Bid Stricker stopped -me. - -“Did you know,” he grinned, “that William S. Hart is trying to get Miss -Prindle to break her contract with Douglas Fairbanks and sign up with -him?” - -“Chase yourself,” I scowled. - -“Honest. He was in town this morning.” - -“And I heard,” Jimmy Stricker spoke up, poking his nose into the -conversation, “that Tom Mix is due in town to-morrow.” - -Bid sort of rolled his eyes at the ceiling. - -“Isn’t it wonderful,” he sighed, “what a little soap will do?” - -Why did they keep talking about the beauty soap and about Miss Prindle -going into the movies? I wondered. - -When Tom and I arrived at the mill at the conclusion of the day’s -school, the soap man had Romeo hitched to the buggy. We got in, one on -each side of the driver, with the satchel of soap at our feet. - -“Git up,” the old man clucked, flapping the lines, and in response -Romeo sort of collected his wabbly joints and leaned forward until he -was in motion. - -“We’ll go over in the Crandon neighborhood,” I spoke up. “Follow this -road to the first turn, then go to the right.” - -It was four-thirty when we came within sight of the Crandon farm. -Taking six cakes of beauty soap in my hands, I scrambled out of the -buggy in front of the farmhouse, motioning to Tom to follow me. - -“You wait here in the road,” I told the soap man. - -When Mrs. Crandon, a cousin of Dad’s, opened the door, Tom and I -stepped quickly into the farmhouse kitchen. I had been here a number of -times to Sunday dinners. Chicken and hot biscuits and gravy. Um-yum! -The thought of it made me hungry. - -“I’ve been expecting you, Jerry. Your wheel’s here.” - -“I know it.” - -“How did you come out?” she smiled, curious. - -I told her about the old soap man. He was trying to steal some money, I -said, that belonged to some one else, and we were trying to save the -money for its rightful owner. - -“Gracious me!” she cried, in sudden alarm. - -“Tom and I are going back to town on my bike,” I explained, “and we -want you to keep the old soap man out in front as long as you can. When -he tumbles to the fact that we have disappeared, you mustn’t tell him -where we have gone to.” - -“I won’t,” she promised. - -“Here’s some soap,” I grinned, giving her my six cakes. “In a few -minutes go out to the buggy and say: ‘I believe I’ll take another six -cakes.’ The old man will think that we’re in here. And he’ll be tickled -pink to let you have all of the soap that you want. Then you can wait -another two or three minutes and go out and get some more soap. See?” - -Mrs. Crandon gave a hearty laugh. - -“What if he tries to make me pay for the soap?” - -“Tell him that you’ve changed your mind about buying it, and hand it -back to him.” - -My bicycle, she told us, was in the carriage shed. Getting the wheel, -we cut through an orchard to the country road. With Tom on the -cross-bar, I pedaled for dear life. - -We got to town before five o’clock. The brick house was closed. So we -knew that our chums were still in the mill. - -“Dog-gone!” cried Scoop, sweating, when we came to the room where he -and Peg were at work, “We’ve ripped up the whole floor and haven’t -found a thing.” - -Peg was smashing the brick hearth of the fireplace. - -“Get busy, fellows,” he panted. “We haven’t a minute to spare.” - -Tom and I gave a cheerful hand to the work. Suddenly the awfulest groan -fell on our ears that you can imagine. A sort of shivering, rattling -groan. - -“The miser’s ghost!” I screeched, dropping my pick. “It’s coming up the -stairs!” - -There was a rippling laugh from below. And who should come into sight -but the grinning Matson girl. - -“Don’t ever tell me,” she laughed, “how brave boys are. For I certainly -had the four of you scared to death.” - -Scoop scowled. - -“What’s the idea?” he growled. - -“Oh, I just did it for fun.” - -“Huh!” - -“I wanted to be here to help you. So I coaxed Mrs. Kelly to bring me to -town. She’s at the house.” - -“You haven’t helped us any by scaring us,” grunted Scoop. Then he sort -of cooled off and told the newcomer, in better manners, where the soap -man was. - -“We’ve got to hurry,” he concluded, “if we expect to find the hidden -fortune before the spy gets back to town.” - -“Let me help you,” the girl offered quickly. - -“It will be a big help to us,” Scoop told her, “if you’ll go below and -watch for the enemy. If he comes before we’re through up here, yell -‘jiggers.’” - -Well, we kept on smashing the bricks. And pretty soon we disclosed a -metal box. - -“The money!” I cried, excited. - -The box was about a foot long by four inches wide and three inches -deep. Its padlock was so rusted that we knew no key would ever unlock -it. The only way to get the box open would be to break the padlock with -a hammer. - -Scoop shook the box, rattling its contents. - -“Gold!” I cried. - -“Shall we break it open, or shall we let the girl open it? It’s hers.” - -“We better hand it over to her as it is,” advised Peg. - -We started for the stairs, anxious to get away from the dangerous -territory. - -“I guess old soapy will get an awful shock when he comes home and sees -how we’ve messed up his sun parlor,” laughed Scoop, looking back at the -torn-up floor. - -“He’ll want to kill us,” I shivered. - -“He ought to be in jail,” grunted Peg. - -“I’d feel a lot safer,” I said quickly, “if he was in jail.” - -A horse whinnied. - -“Romeo!” cried Scoop, stopping abruptly on the stairs. - -“‘Jiggers,’” a voice called. - -Peg saw my white face. - -“Don’t be scared, Jerry. He can’t get us. When he comes into the mill, -we’ll go down the rope. We’ve got it ready.” - -So down the rope we went, joining the girl in the mill yard. - -“Here’s your grandfather’s fortune,” Scoop grinned, handing her the -metal box. - -She gave a cry. It was the gladdest, happiest cry I had ever heard. And -she took the box and hugged it in her arms. - -“Oh!” she cried. - -We could hear the soap man in the mill. - -“Let’s go over to the house,” suggested Scoop, “where we can lock -ourselves in if necessary. For we don’t know what the old coot is -liable to do.” - -Fortified in the brick house, we broke open the metal box. But, to our -disappointment, it contained no money. Not a penny. Its only content -was the ten-ring puzzle that Mr. Matson had made just before he met -with his awful death. - -“There’s money hid somewhere,” cried Mrs. Kelly. “I know it. For the -ould gintleman told me so.” - -“He might not have been telling you the truth.” - -“He was rich. If the money isn’t hid, where is it?” - -“Maybe,” spoke up Peg, “it’s cemented into the mill wall, as the spy -seems to think.” - -Mrs. Kelly got ready to leave for home. - -“To-morrow,” she said, sort of decisive-like, “I’m goin’ to see the -judge an’ tell him the whole story. He’ll know what to do.” - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - -SCOOP DISAPPEARS - - -Contrary to what we thought would be the case, the soap man didn’t come -near us. And shortly after six o’clock we saw him leave the mill yard -in his rickety buggy, heading south. When he had disappeared from our -sight we drew a deep breath. It was our hope, of course, that we had -seen the last of him. - -But we hadn’t, as you will learn by reading on. - -In a way we had made a mess of things. We had let the enemy get the -talking frog away from us; and we had fumbled in recovering the -murdered puzzle maker’s hidden fortune. Of course, if we were to -believe Deacon Pillpopper, the ten-ring puzzle had a certain money -value. But it wasn’t what we had expected to find. Far from it. -Moreover, the puzzle was useless to us without the directions for -working it. We couldn’t do a thing with it. - -In going to bed that night we agreed that there was no need to stand -guard. For most certainly we had seen the last of the enemy’s spies. -And that meant that we had seen the last of the ghost. - -I was tired and went promptly to sleep. It seemed to me that not more -than ten minutes had elapsed when a whispering voice told me to get up. -The clock on the lower floor struck midnight. - -“There’s some one at the kitchen door,” Scoop told me. - -Having been awakened ahead of me, Peg and Tom were standing in a puddle -of moonlight that came through the bedroom window. Half asleep and half -awake I got onto my feet. - -“I went to the kitchen to get a drink,” Scoop told us. “I didn’t bother -to light a lamp. I heard footfalls on the porch. Then the doorknob -turned.” - -We went noiselessly down the stairs, more bewildered than frightened. -And sure enough, as Scoop had said, some one was trying to push our key -out of the lock of the kitchen door. - -I crept to a near-by window, detecting the ghost on the porch. A -startled cry sprang to my lips. And thus warned of our presence in the -kitchen, the prowler glided swiftly from the porch into the shadows. - -Scoop ran into the sitting room and threw up a window. - -“I’m going to find out who it is,” he said, grim-like. “Wait here at -the window. For you might have to drag me in quick.” - -Then he went out through the opening. I leaned over the sill and -watched him creep to a corner of the house. The kitchen porch was now -within range of his eyes. Suddenly he vanished. - -The minutes dragged along. I took to counting the pumping strokes of my -heart. Thump! thump! thump! Once Tom sneezed. I almost jumped out of my -skin. - -My legs went stiff and cramped from crouching in one position. Why -didn’t Scoop come back? I hung over the sill to catch possible sight of -my daring chum. But nowhere was he within range of my anxious eyes. - -“He’s been gone an hour,” Tom said in a queer, hushed whisper. - -It came two o’clock; three o’clock; four o’clock. And still Scoop -hadn’t returned. - -At daybreak we went outside and circled the house. I was sick with -worry. For I realized that something had happened to my chum. Maybe he -had been murdered. And the ghost was the murderer. - -But who was the ghost? I thought of the old soap man. Was he the ghost -after all? It wasn’t impossible. - -Somehow, though, I had the feeling that the soap man wasn’t the ghost. -And in trying to probe the confusing mystery I acknowledged -bewilderment. - -Then we found this message chalked on the mail box: - - - Lay low till I get back. - - Scoop. - - -I went suddenly happy. For Scoop was alive. He was up to some scheme. -He had a reason for vanishing. - -Thinking that he might show up in time for breakfast, we set a plate -for him. But only the three of us shared the meal. Then we went to -school. The teacher wanted to know where Howard Ellery was. But no one -could tell her. - -It came noon. And Scoop hadn’t returned. - -Stopping in at the hotel on the way to school, I found Uncle Sam -Tomlinson fretting over the absence of his star guest. - -“Has he gone back to Chicago?” I inquired. - -“How do I know whar he’s gone to?” the other scowled. “He was here at -ten o’clock last night. But he hain’t been seen since. An’ my wife says -as how his bed is jest the way she made it up yesterday.” - -I ran to the near-by garage. Gennor’s red roadster was in storage. This -proved that its owner hadn’t left town. - -But where was he? And, more important in my mind, where was Scoop? - -The school bell summoned the three of us to our books. But the pages -might just as well have been printed in Chinese for all of the -understanding that we got out of them that afternoon. - -Our thoughts were of Scoop. He was in danger. And we wanted to be with -him so that we could help him. Not knowing where he was, or what was -happening to him, made us crazy, sort of. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER XX - -UP THE RIVER - - -After what seemed an age to us, it came time for school to be dismissed -for the day. And with anxious hearts Tom and I and Peg hurried home. We -were hopeful that Scoop would be waiting for us at the brick house. And -in this we were not disappointed. - -He was seated cross-legged at the kitchen table making ham sandwiches -and swigging down milk. - -“This,” he told us, with a weary grin, “is my breakfast, dinner and -supper.” - -Our tongues waggled with eager questions bearing on his adventure. But -he shook his head, motioning to us to be patient until he was through -eating. - -I could see that he was doing some hard thinking as he got on the -outside of his food. Finally he pushed back from the table and loosened -his belt. - -“Well,” he said, giving us a queer look, “I think I know who’s got the -talking frog.” - -I immediately guessed young Gennor, explaining to our returned leader -about the Chicago kid’s sudden disappearance. - -Scoop waggled with understanding. - -“I know all about that,” he said. “For last night I followed Gennor to -the old Windmere Hotel. He was there until an hour ago.” - -“In the hotel?” I inquired, staring in unbelief. - -“Watching it,” Scoop said, “from the outside. And I, in turn, have been -watching him. When he came to town, I followed.” - -“But why should he go to the old hotel? It’s been closed for years.” - -“Because,” returned Scoop in a steady voice, “he suspects that the -talking frog is there. I want to tell you that kid is no dummy! Hearing -us tell about the ghost put him hep to things that we never dreamed of. -And he came here last night to learn who the ghost was. For it was his -hunch—and he had the right dope—that the ghost was the frog thief.” - -“And didn’t he know that the ghost was one of his father’s spies?” - -“He knew,” Scoop said steadily, “that the ghost wasn’t a spy. That’s -where he had the advantage over us.” - -“And it was the ghost who dug up the talking frog and not the spy?” - -The other nodded. - -“But who is the ghost?” - -I was tingling with excitement. For I could tell from Scoop’s -mysterious actions that he was holding something back. - -“That,” he returned, “is what you and I are going to find out.” - -“And you don’t know?” I cried, trying to pin him down. - -“I suspect who it is,” he said. “But if I were to tell you, you’d say -that I was crazy.” - -And that is exactly what I did say when my coaxing had brought out the -name. - -“But even if you are right,” I said, coming from under my dazed -amazement, “why should he steal the talking frog?” - -“I can’t answer that, Jerry. I only know that he was here last night. -Your cry scared him away. Gennor and I followed him to the old -hotel—though the other kid, of course, didn’t know that I was trailing -along behind.” - -“And you say the ghost is living in the old hotel?” - -“Apparently.” - -“But if the talking frog is there,” I followed up, giving him a puzzled -look, “why didn’t you go in and get it?” - -“Jerry, tell me the truth. Under the circumstances would you have gone -alone into that old deserted building?” - -I quickly admitted that I wouldn’t have had the courage. For the risk -was plain. - -“I could tell from Gennor’s actions,” Scoop went on, “that he wanted to -go in where the ghost was, but, like myself, he didn’t dare to. What -kept him there all day was the hope that the ghost would leave. Nothing -doing.... I have a hunch that he’s in town to get the Strickers to help -him. I’ve seen Bid riding around in the red car. We’ve got to shake a -leg. For the whole gang may be speeding for the river this very minute -in the enemy’s auto. You can see what we’re up against.” - -Yes, it was a time for quick action. We had to get to the old hotel -ahead of the others. And it was decided on the moment that Scoop and I -should make the trip. Tom and Peg were to lay low in the brick house. - -“And when the ghost comes to-night,” instructed Scoop, “don’t scare him -away. Let him have free run of the house. But watch what he does. He -has a reason in repeatedly coming here. And only in learning what his -reason is will we be likely to solve the mystery. I’m hoping that Jerry -and I will be back in time for the big show.” - -It was somewhat after five o’clock when Scoop and I left the brick -house. Hurrying through town, we came to the long bridge spanning the -Illinois River. The Windmere Hotel road was on the opposite side of the -river. But instead of entering the bridge, as I had expected him to do, -the leader turned to the right, entering Deacon Pillpopper’s yard and -knocking on the kitchen door. - -“Well, well,” cackled the old boat renter, tickled-like, “if it hain’t -Scoop an’ Jerry! Come right in; come right in,” he invited politely. “I -was jest gittin’ ready to set up an’ eat. Hain’t got a turrible sight -cooked, but you’re welcome to share what I’ve got. Jest shove that ol’ -cat off its box, Jerry, an’ draw up to the table.” - -Scoop shook his head, explaining that we were in a hurry. - -“We’re headed for the old Windmere Hotel,” he said, “and we’ve got to -get there quick. For a stolen invention has been hid there, and a -friend of ours is liable to suffer if we delay a minute in recovering -it. We can get there quicker in a motor-boat. And under the -circumstances I’m going to ask you to let us borrow your small launch. -We haven’t any money to pay you, but if things work out as I hope, -you’ll get enough pay to buy a brand new launch and a rowboat or two -thrown in. Can we take it?” - -“Well, neow,” the old man waggled, “I’d say ‘no’ right off to most -b’ys. But I hain’t afeered to trust you. I know you’ll be keerful. -Besides, I hain’t furgot ’bout that bag of apples you brought me last -fall.” - -Full of gratitude for his kindness, we ran to the river pier. I untied -the boat while Scoop turned on the gas and electricity. Having been out -in the boat with its owner, we knew how to run it. - -“Here we go!” cried Scoop, getting ready to press the control lever -into “forward.” - -I yelled to him to hold up. - -“The deacon’s coming on the run. Maybe he wants to go along.” - -But that wasn’t the case. - -“The ten-ring puzzle,” the old man wheezed. “Have you found it, b’ys?” - -We told him that we had. - -“I knowed it was the puzzle that the Bible markings had reference to. -Miz Kelly said it was money that was hid. I said, ‘No, it hain’t money, -it’s the ten-ring puzzle, which is jest as good as money, though. You -kin sell it any day in the week,’ I told her, ‘fur a thousand dollars -or better.’” - -“We’ve got it,” grinned Scoop, “but we don’t know how to work it.” - -“Um.... Let me git a whack at it.” - -“We’ll bring it over to-morrow.” - -“You didn’t find any money ’long with the puzzle?” - -“Not a penny.” - -The old man scratched his head. - -“They may be money hid, all right. Fur, as Miz Kelly says, the old man -was rich.... I’m goin’ to have another look at that Bible.” - -Headed up the river, we presently came to the new Woodlawn Bay Hotel, -which is the up-to-date resort that put the old Windmere House out of -business. For summer guests preferred the new hotel. Unable to make it -pay, the old hotel closed up. That was six-seven years ago. - -Another mile and we came to the rotting pier of the shut-up Windmere -House. Here things looked deserted and gloomy. The barn-like building -stared back at us with its three tiers of window eyes. I dreaded to -enter. And speculating in my mind on its hidden dangers, I went sort of -shivery in the knees. - -We tied the launch to the pier. - -“See anything of Gennor and his gang?” inquired Scoop, squinting -ashore. - -“Maybe they’re in the hotel.” - -“We’ll circle the building and see if the red car is here.” - -But to our satisfaction the roadster was nowhere in sight in the hotel -yard. - -“Come on,” motioned Scoop, starting for a rear door. - -I didn’t hurry. - -“Do you suppose,” I said, sort of letting out my neck in all directions -at once, “that the ghost is watching us through one of those windows?” - -“He probably is,” returned Scoop, “if he’s inside. For I happen to know -that he isn’t blind. And he must have heard our motor.” - -I began to sweat. - -“It’s awful risky,” I said, “going in there.” - -“Tell me something that I don’t know.” - -“I hate to see you do it,” I went on. “For he might kill you. And being -my best pal, I’ve got to look out for you.” - -“You needn’t worry about me,” grunted Scoop. “I know how to take care -of myself.” - -“But what are you going to do if he jumps at you?” - -“Fight, of course.” - -“If he jumps at me,” I said truthfully, “I’ll drop dead.” - -“You’re trying awful hard,” Scoop grinned, “to make me think that you -haven’t any grit. But I know you, ol’ timer! Come on.” - -The door was unlocked. And stepping into the musty, dirty kitchen, I -expected nothing else than to get a whang on the head. - -Scoop dropped to his hands and knees, examining the footprints in the -floor’s coating of dust. - -“A man’s,” he waggled, “and all of a size. So we know the Strickers -haven’t been here. Buck up, Jerry. I have the feeling that we’re going -to walk out of here with the talking frog.” - -“And I have the feeling,” I groaned, “that we’ll be carried out in -pieces.” - -“The tracks go this way,” Scoop said, advancing. - -“I wish my tracks were going the other way.” - -“Let’s not talk,” he advised. “The ghost might hear us.” - -“I hope he does,” I said, “and runs.” - -This kind of crazy talk sort of stiffened my wabbly knees. And soon I -was keeping abreast of my companion, just as brave as he was. - -We followed the tracks up two flights of stairs to the third floor, -then down a long hall. The closed chamber doors on our right and left -gave me an uneasy feeling. - -We were now almost to the hall’s end. Pausing, we sharpened our ears. -Then we crept to a closed door where the tracks showed in and out. - -“Hands up!” he shouted, pushing open the door and bounding into the -room. - -But the ghost wasn’t there! - -Another such room I never expect to see. Here and there were odds and -ends of discarded furniture. Two rickety chairs, a cluttered bureau, a -three-legged table. An old oil stove had smoked black the wall behind -it and the ceiling directly overhead. The dirty cupboard was filled -with greasy pots and pans. It was hard to conceive how a man could live -in such stinking filth. - -A bed was set up in an adjoining room, reached through a connecting -door. Here windows on two sides looked down upon the river and a -clutter of rotting sheds. Also we could trace the course of the weedy, -incoming road. - -Opening a closet door, Scoop pointed to a man’s tattered raincoat. -There was a worn pair of shoes on the floor. We pawed through a litter -of paper and other trash, but failed to uncover the talking frog. - -At this point the purr of a motor fell on our ears. Then we heard boys’ -voices. Gennor and his gang had arrived. We realized that it was them, -even before we had gotten sight of them from the chamber window. - -Bid got his eyes on our motor-boat. - -“Lookit!” he screeched, pointing. The whole gang ran to the river’s -edge. We were afraid that they would untie the boat or damage the -engine. - -Gennor came running from his car with an old leather traveling bag of -peculiar shape. Lining up the others in a bossy way, he advanced on the -hotel. - -Hearing them on the stairs, and realizing that we were trapped, sort -of, Scoop shot the bolt in the connecting door. This gave us the -bedroom as a fortress. - -The others tumbled into the adjoining room. - -“What do you know about this?” cried Bid. “Somebody’s living here.” - -“Let’s have some refreshments,” laughed Jimmy, and we could hear him -rustling paper bags. “Cookies!” he yipped. - -“Me first.” - -“Aw!... You know me, Jimmy.” - -“Give me a fistful.” - -Gennor came into the conversation. - -“Let’s start our game.” - -“Shoot,” laughed Bid. - -“This is a haunted house. See? And I’ve come here to dig up the buried -treasure.” - -“Do you put it in the leather bag?” - -“Sure thing. The treasure is buried in this room. And I’ve got to dig -it up and escape. You fellows are ghosts. You’re to wait in the hall. -And when I come from the room, you chase me. If you catch me, the -treasure’s yours.” - -“We git you.” - -There was a clatter of feet into the hall. The door went closed. A key -clicked in the lock. Then Gennor began moving quickly about the room. - -Scoop’s eyes held a worried look. - -“He’s up to something, Jerry.” - -“Easy,” I whispered. - -“He hasn’t told them about the talking frog. They would have mentioned -it if they had known about it. They think it’s a game. I wish I could -see what he’s doing.” - -A minute passed; two minutes. - -“I can’t stand it any longer,” Scoop said in a strained voice. “I’ve -got to see what he’s up to.” - -“But if you open the door,” I told him, worried, “he’ll hear you and -yell for his gang.” - -But the other was not to be stopped. - -The bolt was drawn back. And quietly turning the knob, he opened the -door. Then—— - -“Jerry! He isn’t here!” - -Together we ran to an open window. On the ground directly below us -Gennor was coiling a long rope. He had thus made his escape, pulling -the rope after him. - -“The rope was in the leather bag,” cried Scoop. “And he’s running away -with the talking frog. See? Here’s the wooden box that it was buried -in.” - -Gennor was now cutting through the weeds toward the red roadster. -Throwing up the cover of the car’s rear luggage box, he tossed the -leather bag inside. Then he jumped into the seat. - -I bounded to the door. But the key to open it wasn’t in the lock. - -“What’s the matter in there?” Bid inquired from the hall. - -“Gennor’s gone out through the window,” I cried. - -“Who are you?” - -I told him. - -“If you’ll help us get the talking frog from Gennor,” I cried, “we’ll -pay you a hundred dollars.” - -“Go lay an egg! You haven’t got a hundred cents.” - -“We’ll have a lot of money,” I cried, “if we save the talking frog. Aw, -come on, fellows! We’re Tutter kids. You ought to stick up for us, -rather than let an outsider cheat us.” - -There was an excited confab in the hall. - -“He brought us here to play games,” said Jimmy. - -“Sure thing.” - -“He never told us that the frog was here.” - -Bid hammered on the door. - -“I believe you’re lying. For Gennor told us yesterday that he’d give us -ten dollars apiece if we’d help him find the talking frog.” - -“Then he’s double crossing you. Yes, that’s it! He brought you here to -help him because he didn’t dare to come in here alone. And now he’s -skinning out.” - -“The crook! Where is he?” - -“He’s outside,” Scoop called from the window, “searching his pockets -for his auto key. You can head him off if you snap into it.” - -A diminishing clatter of shoes came from the hall. I ran to the window. -The red car was still in the yard. - -“Hey!” yelled Bid, coming into sight on the run. - -“I’ve been waiting for you,” lied Gennor. - -There was considerable exciting talk. We saw Gennor bring out a roll of -greenbacks and pass them around. Then the whole gang got into the car. -Having found his switch key, the driver started the motor. There was a -clashing of gears; the car hurtled forward, quickly disappearing from -our sight. - -I looked at Scoop and he looked at me, but neither of us said a word. -We were too sick and discouraged to talk. - -We were licked now. There was no doubt of that. Almost with our hands -on the talking frog, we had let Gennor slip in and get it away from us. -Long before we could get to town he would be on his way to Chicago with -the stolen invention. - -Suddenly Scoop clutched my arm. - -“Lookit!” he cried, pointing. - -“Romeo!” - -“And the old soap man!” - -The spy and his skinny horse had come into sight at the spot where the -red roadster had disappeared. Getting out of the buggy in the mill -yard, the driver unhitched his horse, then came toward the hotel, -carrying in one hand his soap satchel and in the other a black leather -traveling bag. - -Scoop made a queer throat sound. - -“It’s Gennor’s bag!” he cried. - -Clutching a chair, my now crazy companion smashed down the door into -the hall. - -“Jerry,” he panted, his eyes shining, “our luck has changed. We still -have a chance to recover the talking frog.” - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - -FISHING! - - -Not until later, until our adventure was over with and the excitement -had died out of my nerves, did I fully realize how fortunate it was for -the two of us that Scoop, in good presence of mind, had smashed down -the hall door in advance of the soap man’s entrance into the old hotel. - -For we would have been at a disadvantage, as you can see, if we had -waited and the enemy had heard us smashing our way to freedom. There -would have been no chance then for us to gain possible secret -possession of the talking frog. - -The spy had entered the hotel through the kitchen door. But we couldn’t -hear him in the building. And this worried us, in a measure. For we -were fearful of suddenly meeting him, face to face, in the building’s -shadowy halls. - -Of course, in meeting him we could have outrun him. Easy. We were in no -particular danger. But it was necessary to our plans to not let the -newcomer know that we were ahead of him in the building. This was the -main reason why we didn’t want to meet him. - -We had descended the two flights of stairs to the ground floor and were -almost to the doorway leading into the kitchen when our ears were -suddenly punctured by a gurgling sneeze. - -We stopped as quick as scat. - -“He’s in the kitchen,” whispered Scoop. - -“Maybe he’s laying for us.” - -“Probably.” - -“What are you going to do?” - -“Get a look at him if I can.” - -So we tiptoed to the door. But when we got there we didn’t dare to put -out our heads. It was too risky. - -To one side of the kitchen, against the wooden wall, was a stairway -leading to a room directly above. This gave us an idea. And going back -up the stairs, to the second floor, we sought the room over the -kitchen, hoping that we would be able to see into the room where the -spy was through a knot hole in the board ceiling. - -We were lucky. Not only was there many knot holes, but directly over -the spy was an open trapdoor. - -It took careful walking, I want to tell you. For you know how a board -floor sort of groans and creaks when you step on it. We were fully -three minutes crossing the room to the trapdoor. Each step was taken -with extreme caution. - -Below us, seated on a box, the soap man was hard at work. A dozen or -more bars of soap lay on the floor at his feet. He was cutting these -bars into slices. Each slice was given a few drops of perfume and then -squeezed separately in an iron jigger, which seemed to be a sort of -mold. In went a thin slice of soap, then squeeze, then out came a cake -of Bubbles of Beauty with the name pressed into the soap just as slick -as you please. The big bars on the floor were marked I-V-O-R-Y. - -“What the dickens?...” I breathed in Scoop’s ear. “Does he make his -beauty soap out of Ivory?” - -“Seems so.” - -I was dizzy. - -“But it made Miss Prindle beautiful.” - -“That’s what you said. I didn’t see her.” - -“Red, too.” - -I couldn’t understand it. It would seem on first thought that the -beauty soap was a fake. Still, it couldn’t be a fake, I told myself. -For in the dressmaker’s case, and in Red’s case, too, it had done all -that was claimed for it. - -We had wondered what the soap man’s purpose was in coming to the old -hotel. We had thought, at first, that he knew something about the -ghost. But now we quickly concluded that he had been selling soap in -the neighborhood, and had stopped at the hotel to fix up a supply of -soap for the coming day’s business. There was nothing in his actions -that would suggest that he knew about the ghost. His thoughts were -wholly on his work. - -The traveling bag that he had brought into the hotel was on the floor -directly behind him. Getting a closer look at the bag, I was convinced -beyond all doubt, and so was Scoop, that it was Gennor’s bag. How it -had come into the soap man’s possession we couldn’t imagine. But here -it was. And we were determined to get it. - -Scoop pulled a piece of fishline out of his pocket. - -“If we had a hook,” he grinned, “we could do some fishing.” - -“Anything you want,” I grinned back, “just ask me for it,” and I dug up -a piece of wire. I don’t know why I had the wire in my pocket along -with my other truck. But, lucky for us, it was there. - -Fastening the bent wire to the fishline, Scoop let the hook down, -swinging it slowly back and forth, trying to hook the handle of the -traveling bag. - -“Be careful,” I grinned, “and don’t hook old soapy’s wig.” - -“Keep still. How can I get a ‘bite’ with you talking.” - -“You need a bobber,” I joked. - -He jiggled the line up and down for several moments. - -“Hot dog!” I breathed as the hooked bag was lifted from the floor. - -The soap man was still at work. He didn’t know that his traveling bag -had “swallowed” our hook. I grinned to myself in the thought of how -amazed he would be to suddenly learn that his bag had vanished. - -But I grinned too soon. - -With the hooked bag within a few inches of our hands, the string broke. -And down went the bag, kerplunk! - -The talking frog angrily awakened. - -“R-r-r-a-t-s!” it rumbled, indignant over its fall. “R-r-r-a-t-s! -R-r-r-a-t-s!” - -Well, if ever you saw a scared man it was the spy. He pretty nearly -jumped out of his skin, as the saying is. His eyes bulged like sliced -marbles. - -For all he knew to the contrary, the bag had suddenly come to life and -had jumped into the air like a grasshopper. Maybe he believed in -spooks. I don’t know. Anyway, he took to his heels. A talking bag was -more than he could stand. - -It was funny. Oh, boy, how we laughed! Still, we didn’t waste any time. -Dropping through the trapdoor to the kitchen floor, we grabbed the bag -and hoofed it for the river. - -To this day we don’t know where the soap man disappeared to or what -became of his old horse and soap satchel. But it was a wise thing for -him that he cleared out. Otherwise he would have landed in jail. For -the officer was looking for him the following morning. If he is still -alive, I imagine that he’ll give Tutter a wide berth hereafter. - -Coming to our boat, I whipped out my knife and cut the tie rope, -wanting to get away from the pier as quickly as possible. Scoop cranked -the motor. Put! put! put! Did the little old exhaust sound good to us? -I’ll tell the world. The spy couldn’t catch us now. - -Passing the Woodlawn Bay Hotel, we soon came within sight of the -bridge, a shadowy span in the early darkness. Hearing us coming, Deacon -Pillpopper ran to the pier to meet us to learn how we had come out and -to help us put the boat away. - -It was after nine o’clock when we came into town. And when we rounded -the hotel corner, there sat Gennor in his red automobile, directly -under a street light, sort of posing important-like for the benefit of -the common, everyday people passing along the sidewalk. - -But his pushed-up chest went punctured when we hurried by, carrying the -leather bag. Oh, boy, did his eyes bulge! But he kept shut. For he had -sense enough to realize that he was licked. - -Scoop chuckled. - -“I wish I could have seen his face when he discovered the empty luggage -box. I’ll bet he felt sick.” - -We learned afterwards that the red car struck a bad bump shortly after -it had disappeared from our sight. No doubt the bag was thrown from the -car into the road, where it was picked up by the soap man. - -I suspect it is a wonder to Gennor to this day how the bag came into -our hands. - -He left town that night, headed for Chicago. That is the last we ever -saw of him. And moreover that is the last we ever want to see of him or -any boy like him. - -For, as Scoop says, the fun of being rich lies in doing good turns for -other and less fortunate people. And when a fellow gets Gennor’s idea -that money is something to lift himself above other people, he’s all -wrong. Without his money he might have been a good kid. For he was -smart. But with his money he was a fizzle. And that is why I hope that -he’ll forever keep out of my way. - -When we came even with the town hall, Scoop paused, letting his face go -thoughtful. - -“I think that we better make a prisoner of the talking frog, Jerry. -For, with all of the trouble that we’ve had recovering it, we certainly -don’t want to fumble and again lose it. I can’t feel that it’s wholly -safe in our hands. And the better plan will be to put it where a thief -won’t be able to get it.” - -“Is it your idea,” I laughed, “to ask Bill Hadley to lock it up in one -of his steel jail cages?” - -“Why not?” grinned Scoop, starting for the door. - -Seated at his desk, the town marshal gave us a questioning look when we -entered. - -Scoop’s request brought a hearty laugh. - -“How’d it be,” grinned Bill, good-natured-like, “if I locked your -valuable bag in the big office safe?” - -“That suits me,” nodded Scoop. - -A twinkle came into Bill’s eyes as he took the bag and hefted it. - -“What have you got in it?” he questioned. “A gold brick?” - -“A talking frog,” informed Scoop; and he gave a quick account of our -adventures. - -“Well, I swan!” exploded Bill, staring at us with admiring eyes. “If -you hain’t the beatin’est kids I ever heard tell of. One time it’s a -whispering mummy that you’re chasin’, and the next time it’s a -rose-colored cat. Now it’s a talkin’ frog.” - -Then the conversation turned to the ghost. - -“Of course,” waggled Scoop, “I may be all wrong about the ghost’s -identity.” - -“I hope you hain’t,” Bill said, grim-like. “Fur I’d like to see this -murder mystery cleared up. Anyway, we’ll soon find out who the ghost -is,” and locking the frog in the office safe, he started heavily for -the door, motioning for us to follow him. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER XXII - -WE CAPTURE THE GHOST - - -That night we captured the ghost, only Bill did the most of the -capturing. Being the town marshal, we let him take the lead. - -Shortly after our signal had brought Tom and Peg from the brick house, -the ghost came creeping up the path from the road, wrapped in a sheet. -Finding the kitchen door unlocked, he disappeared into the silent -house. Then a light shone through the cellar windows. When the ghost -came up the cellar stairs, Bill nabbed him. - -It was, as Scoop had suspected, old Mr. Matson. He was carrying in his -arms a wooden box, similar in size to the box that we had used in -burying the talking frog. And when the box was opened, what do you know -if it wasn’t crammed full of greenbacks and silver dollars and -five-dollar and ten-dollar gold pieces! Thousands of dollars! A bigger -pile of money I never expect to see. - -The captured man did a lot of screeching and clawing. He called us -robbers. And we failed to make him understand that we were not, because -he was pretty much out of his head. - -But he wasn’t so loony but what he had remembered the hidden money. And -it was to dig up the treasure that he had persistently tried to enter -the brick house. The one time that he did get in, he carried off the -talking frog by mistake, having dug in the wrong spot. - -It was learned afterwards that in his wanderings he had been in New -York City. Struck by an automobile, an operation had been performed on -his head. The doctors declared that upon his entrance into the hospital -he was as crazy as a loon. And I rather imagine that he was. For only a -truly crazy man would spill hog blood all over his house to make the -neighbors think that he had been murdered. But the operation drove much -of the craziness out of the injured one’s head. And remembering the -buried money, he had returned to get it. Not wanting to be seen and -recognized by people who thought him dead, he sought to hide from sight -in the old Windmere House. - -His capture gave the Tutter people something to talk about. He went to -live with Mrs. Kelly, and she has charge of his money. Some day, of -course, everything that he owns will be Frances Matson’s. - -The ten-ring puzzle was sent to Milwaukee, to the company interested in -Mr. Ricks’ talking frog, and they wrote back saying that they would be -very glad to manufacture the puzzle in quantities and market it. I -understand that Mrs. Kelly is to get a royalty check twice a year. - -Mr. Ricks bought the brick house with a part of the money paid to him -by the Milwaukee company, who are now building a small factory in -Tutter to manufacture talking toys and puzzles. Tom, who will always be -one of my warmest friends, says that he is going to be the manager of -the factory when he grows up. - -So you can see what he intends to do when he gets rich. - -On the day that his pa and Aunt Polly returned to Tutter with their -patent papers a letter was received from the president of the Gennor -Radio Corporation. - -Mr. Gennor said that he deeply regretted that his son, in offering to -buy the talking frog and promising a factory to the townspeople, had -acted without authority. And he denied employing spies to steal the -invention. - -In this he undoubtedly told the truth. For what we thought was a spy -was just a silly old soap peddler, who had gotten the idea somehow that -his dead brother had hidden a lot of money in the stone wall of his -mill. No doubt Mr. Ricks misplaced the roll of dress patterns on the -train. He’s pretty good at misplacing things! Aunt Polly says that he -would misplace his head if it wasn’t fastened to him. - -Dad says that big companies do business on the square. And Dad knows. - -We called on Mrs. Crandon the following day. And when we had told her -about our adventure she showed us her pile of soap. Twenty-four cakes! - -“Did he try to make you pay for it?” - -“No. The first thing I knew he was gone.” - -Scoop grinned. - -“This ought to be enough soap to keep you beautiful for the next fifty -years.” - -“Yes,” returned Mrs. Crandon, “I heard how it beautified Miss Prindle,” -and she looked at me and smiled. - -Dog-gone! I felt pretty cheap. For everybody in town knew the joke. The -woman I had seen on Miss Prindle’s porch was her out-of-town sister. -And Red’s beauty was all put on with cold cream and face powder. He had -his mother fix him up to fool me. - -The Strickers, of course, had made up the fake beauty letter. - -“Anyway,” laughed Mrs. Crandon, “the soap is good soap, whether it -makes people beautiful or not. It has such a good smell that the baby -bit into a cake yesterday afternoon, thinking it was candy, I suppose, -and I was up half the night with her.” - -“If the baby has warts on the inside of her stomach,” grinned Scoop, -“she’s cured for life. For Bubbles of Beauty is death on warts. If you -think I’m stringing you, ask Jerry. The soap cured the wart that Mrs. -Pederson put on the top of his head with a broom.” - -“If you don’t dry up,” I waggled, “I’ll put a wart on your head.” - -But he knew I said it in fun, for I was grinning. - - - THE END - - - - - - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JERRY TODD AND THE TALKING -FROG *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. 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