Part 9 (2/2)

”h.e.l.lo!” Hugh called.

A voice he immediately recognized as that of Horatio Juggins greeted him. ”That you, Hugh?”

”Just who it is; what's the matter, Horatio? Feeling the effects of your little jog this afternoon? I hope not, for your sake, to-morrow.”

”Oh! come off, Hugh,” the other quickly replied. ”I'd be a fine candidate for a fifteen-mile Marathon race, wouldn't I, if seven miles knocked me out? I'm as fit right now as a fiddle. But Hugh, can you come right over here now? Something dreadful has happened.”

Hugh had a chilly feeling pa.s.s over him. It seemed as though some sort of bad news was coming. Had the great meet been called off, for some unknown reason or other? Somehow that struck him first as a dire possibility, since it would grievously disappoint thousands of eager boys and girls, not to mention many older folks with young hearts.

Now Hugh had intended to take that evening quietly, resting after his strenuous afternoon, and absolutely refuse to allow Thad, or any other fellow, to coax him outside the door. But already this resolve began to weaken. That dim mention of some possible tragedy happening started him going.

”Of course I can come over, Horatio,” he told the boy at the other end of the wire; ”and I'll do so right away on condition that it's no joke. Tell me what's up first.”

”Oh! I meant to do that, Hugh,” his friend hastened to say, and Hugh could detect a tremor to the boyish voice that told of excitement.

”You see, it's K.K.”

”What's happened to him?” demanded Hugh, his mind instantly suggesting all manner of terrible possibilities, from a sudden attack of sickness to an accident whereby his life might be in danger; for with boys these things sometimes happen as unexpectedly as a flash of lightning from a clear sky.

”Why, he never came back again from that run this afternoon, Hugh!”

Horatio was saying, in an awed tone now.

”What's that you're telling me?” exclaimed the astonished Hugh. ”I thought I saw K.K. with some of the other fellows when I was starting home just before dusk came on, though, of course, I may have been mistaken about it.”

”You were, Hugh, you certainly were,” Horatio a.s.sured him in a softened tone. ”His own mother ought to know, hadn't she? Well, she's over here at our house right now, crying her eyes out, and imagining all sorts of terrible things. You remember the Kinkaids live close by us; and she knew her boy was going to take the run this afternoon along with me, so she thought I could tell her if anything had happened to detain him. Why, she says K.K. never missed his supper before in all his life. It'd have to be something _fierce_ to keep him away from his best meal of the whole day.”

Hugh was thinking swiftly. He realized that this was no little matter to be dismissed as unimportant. Something certainly must have happened to detain K.K. for all this time. Several hours had elapsed since the other fellows reached the terminus of the long run at the athletic grounds. Why then had not K.K. shown up?

”Keep the rest till I get there, Horatio!” he told the other.

”Then you're sure coming, are you, Hugh?”

”Right away,” Hugh added.

”Well, I'm glad, because you'll know what to do about it. And there's something else!”

”Yes?”

”I've got something to tell you that, say, I didn't have the heart to explain to K.K.'s mother, because she's had enough frightened as it is; but it's looking particularly ugly to me, now that he hasn't come back. Oh! perhaps there is more'n a grain of truth in all those terrible stories those hayseeds tell about that place!”

Hugh put up the receiver with a hang, made a dash for his cap, slipped on his sweater, for he knew the night air was cold, and then shot out of doors. Somehow those last few words of Horatio, breathing of mystery as they did, had excited his curiosity until it now reached fever-pitch.

As he knew of several short-cuts across lots it took him but a few minutes to arrive at the Juggins home. Horatio was waiting at the door, and must have heard him running up the steps, for he instantly opened it to admit him.

”Gee, but I'm glad you've come, Hugh!” was his greeting. ”She's in there with mother, and taking on awful about it. It's a dreadful thing to see a woman cry, Hugh. And I'm afraid there may be a good reason for expecting the worst.”

”Tell me what you've got up your sleeve, Horatio,” snapped Hugh, ”and quit giving all these dark hints. You know something connected with K.K. that perhaps no one else does.”

<script>