Part 27 (1/2)
”Do you think you can stand the extra journey?” now asked Mrs. Vernon.
”I feel so strong and improved since I see what the rascals did here that I really will be better off if we go to the village than if I remained here chafing against the delay of catching them.”
Mrs. Vernon knew that an unsettled mental condition was worse than actual healthy fatigue, so she agreed to drive on down to Freedom. ”But it will be too late for us to return to-night!”
”Oh, you must not think of it! In fact, you must not camp here again until the convicts are taken,” hastily replied Mr. Gilroy.
”I suppose we can find a good farm-house where we can board for a time,”
suggested Mrs. Vernon.
”We'll ask the grocery man who comes up for our orders,” added Julie.
By the time Hepsy was. .h.i.tched again to the buckboard, the scouts had packed some things in suitcases to take with them. Mr. Gilroy refused to recline on the spruce bed again, so he sat up between the two girls.
Hepsy was inclined to balk when she found she was wanted to drive down to Freedom; but Mrs. Vernon was most emphatic with a persuasive hickory stick, so that Hepsy decided that ”discretion was the better part of stubbornness.”
Once warmed up to the going, Hepsy kept on traveling at a great rate, so that the village of Freedom was seen in less than an hour's time after leaving the camp. While Mrs. Vernon asked the keeper of the general store about hotel accommodations for all, Mr. Gilroy went to the telephone and called up the police station at Junction.
The scouts had not heard the first part of his conversation, as they were interested in hearing about rooms for the night, but when the store-keeper held up a hand for silence, they heard Mr. Gilroy say excitedly:
”Is that so! Well, I really believe I can get them for you. My name is Chester Gilroy, and my home is in New York State, but the young ladies are Girl Scouts. The Captain's name is Mrs. Vernon, of Elmertown--the other side of this ridge, you know. And the scouts are Juliette and Elizabeth Lee, Ruth Bentley and Joan Allison.”
The scouts exchanged glances with Mrs. Vernon, but they had no clue to the conversation at the other end of the wire.
”What's that?” asked Mr. Gilroy. ”Oh--yes! They lost all their food-stuff, furniture, and other things from camp, so they are compelled to stay at Freedom until the rascals are caught.”
After saying ”good-by” Mr. Gilroy hung up the receiver and came over to the group waiting to hear what was to be done.
The excitement and tiresome trip, followed by the sudden relaxation and satisfaction he experienced now, caused the man's head to whirl, so that he dropped into a wooden chair for a time.
As he sat there recovering himself, he quickly planned. Then he looked up at the store-keeper.
”Mr. Grocer, I can show you an express order on a bank at Junction from my home bank in New York State. I want you to take it--not to cash, but just to prove to you that I mean business.”
The scouts looked perplexed, and the store-keeper said: ”What sort of business do you want to transact?”
”I want you to act as a constable for me--or get a real one, if there is one, at once. Then I want you to collect as large a posse of men as you can, and begin and search that mountainside thoroughly. Begin at an outside circle and narrow down as you reach the camp-huts. We've got to get those escaped convicts and hand them over to the police before we can feel safe.” The canny grocer shook his head dubiously.
”If the men of Freedom round up and land two dangerous criminals, think of the story the newspapers will tell about it. Why, Freedom will be on the map in big headlines!” Mr. Gilroy was beguiling.
When Mr. Gilroy concluded, the store-keeper said: ”How much do yuh kalkerlate on spendin', mister?”
”How many men can you get to go on this quest?” Mr. Gilroy countered.
”Wall--there air loungers hangin' about th' post office, in that store over thar, an' there be young fellers what'll want to chase the convicts fer fun, an' others what will do it fer the dollars. I kin raise 'bout forty er fifty, I rickon.”
”Fine work! I'll pay them $2 for every half-day they are out, with extra money for meals and night work. But the bosses will get double the money. I'll pay you a dollar for every man you sign up.”
”Signed up--what fer?” asked the suspicious grocer.
”To contract to hunt these criminals. You see, we've got to do the thing business-like, and once they start out they might work a whole day or two, and be ent.i.tled to honest pay. But others who never moved may come in at pay-time and claim money for nothing. I've got to have the signatures of my men so that I know who I am paying, see?”