Part 16 (1/2)

”Ye ain't payin' me ter be no detectif,” drawled the man. ”Come! Sh.e.l.l I hitch on?”

”Oh, yes! I don't know what else to do,” groaned the boy. ”I've got to get the car fixed first of all. Then I will find help and follow the girls.”

The farmer was as unsympathetic as a man possibly could be. He started the car and let Tom ride in it. But he had no word of advice to give about the absent girls.

Perhaps, like his wife, he believed that Tom was not honest, that the car was stolen, and that Tom's companions were mythical!

They rolled into Severn Corners at ten o'clock. Of course, in a hamlet of that kind, there was scarcely a light burning. Tom had learned from Blodgett that the local blacksmith sometimes ”monkeyed with ortermobiles that come erlong busted.”

So he had the farmer draw the car to the door of the blacksmith shop.

”Sim lives right next door, there,” said Blodgett, preparing to depart.

”Mebbe ye kin wake him up an' convince him he'd oughter mend yer contraption in the middle of the night. But Sim Peck is constable, too, so mebbe ye won't keer ter trouble him,” and the farmer drove away with a chuckle.

This news was, however, important to Tom. A constable was just about the man he most wanted to see. It had dawned on the boy's mind that his sister and Ruth had gotten into trouble, and he must find help for them.

The street of the village was dark. This was one of the nights when the moon was booked to s.h.i.+ne, but forgot to! The town fathers evidently lit the street lights only when the almanac said there was to be no moon.

Tom removed one of the headlights and found his way to the door of the cottage next to the smithy. There was neither bell nor knocker, but he thundered at the panel with right good will, until he heard a stir in a chamber above. Finally a blind opened a little way and a sleepy voice inquired what he wanted.

”Are you the blacksmith, sir?” asked Tom.

”Huh? Wal! I should say I was. But I ain't no doctor,” snarled the man above, ”and I ain't in the habit of answering night calls. Don't ye see I ain't got no night bell? Go away! you're actin' foolish. I don't shoe hosses this time o' night.”

”It's not a horse,” explained Tom, near laughter despite his serious feelings. ”It's a motor-car.”

”Naw, I don't shoe no ortermobile, neither!” declared the man, and prepared to close the blind.

”Say, Mister!” shouted Tom. ”Do come down. I need you----”

”If I come down thar, I won't come as no blacksmith, nor no mechanic.

I'll come as the constable and run ye in--ye plaguey whipper-snapper!”

”All right,” cried Tom, fearing he would shut the blind. ”Come down as constable. I reckon I need you in that character more than any other.”

”I believe ye do!” exclaimed the man, angrily. ”If you air there when I git on my pants, you'll take a walk to the callaboose. None o' you young city sports air goin' to disturb the neighborhood like this--not if I know it!”

Meanwhile, Tom could hear him stirring around, tumbling over the chairs in the dark, and growling at his boots, and otherwise showing his anger.

But the boy was desperate, and he stood still until the man appeared--tin star pinned to his vest.

”Wal, by gravey!” exclaimed the blacksmith-constable. ”Ain't you a reckless youngster ter face up the majesty of the law in this here way?”

Tom saw that, after all, the constable was grinning, and was not such an ill-natured fellow, now that he was really awake. The boy plunged into his story and told it with brevity, but in detail.

”Why, I see how it is, youngster,” said the man. ”You're some scart about your sister and that other girl. But mebbe nothing's happened 'em at all.”

”But where have they gone?”