Roy Blakeley's Silver Fox Patrol Read online

  ROY BLAKELEY'S SILVER FOX PATROL

  HARRY SLUNG MR. RAGTIME OVER HIS SHOULDER AND WE STARTEDBACK.]

  ROY BLAKELEY'S SILVER FOX PATROL

  by

  PERCY KEESE FITZHUGH

  Author ofTom Slade, Boy Scout, Tom Slade with the Colors,Tom Slade with the Flying Corps,Roy Blakeley, etc.

  Illustrated by Howard L. Hastings

  Published with the approval ofThe Boy Scouts of America

  Grosset & DunlapPublishers :: New York

  Made in the United States of America

  Copyright, 1920, byGrosset & Dunlap

  CONTENTS CHAPTER I--WE MAKE A DISCOVERY CHAPTER II--WE READ THE LETTER CHAPTER III--WE INSPECT PEE-WEE'S POCKETS CHAPTER IV--WE MEET IN THE DEN, AT BENNETT'S CHAPTER V--WE BEGIN OUR INVESTIGATION CHAPTER VI--WE GET NEW LIGHT ON THE MYSTERY CHAPTER VII--WE PLAN OUR TRIP CHAPTER VIII--WE PLAN OUR ITINERARY CHAPTER IX--WE HEAR ABOUT "EATS" CHAPTER X--WE ATTEND A BLOWOUT CHAPTER XI--WE MEET AGAIN CHAPTER XII--WE GET THE CAR STARTED CHAPTER XIII--WE ARE IMPLICATED CHAPTER XIV--WE ARE CRIMINALS CHAPTER XV--WE MEET SHERLOCK HOLMES CHAPTER XVI--WE ASTONISH MR. HOLMES CHAPTER XVII--WE LET OUR YOUNG HERO DO THE TALKING CHAPTER XVIII--WE ARE IN SUSPENSE CHAPTER XIX--WE LEARN THE WORST CHAPTER XX--I DESCEND THE CLIFF CHAPTER XXI--I'M LEFT IN DARKNESS CHAPTER XXIII--WE BEGIN OUR SEARCH CHAPTER XXIV--WE BEHOLD A GHASTLY SIGHT CHAPTER XXV--WE ADD ONE MORE TO OUR PARTY CHAPTER XXVI--WE ARE PURSUED CHAPTER XXVII--WE ARE CAUGHT CHAPTER XXVIII--OUR CASE IS DISMISSED CHAPTER XXIX--WE HAVE AN ELECTION CHAPTER XXX--WE SEE OUR FRIENDS CHAPTER XXXI--WE RECEIVE DARK TIDINGS CHAPTER XXXII--WE HIT THE TRAIL CHAPTER XXXIII--WE MEET A FRIEND CHAPTER XXXIV--WE CAMP UNDER THE TREE CHAPTER XXXV--IT COMES TO A SHOWDOWN

  ROY BLAKELEY'S SILVER FOX PATROL

  CHAPTER I--WE MAKE A DISCOVERY

  While I was sitting on a rock down in our field eating a banana, I had adandy thought, and I was going to begin this story by telling you aboutit, only now I forget what it was.

  Anyway, Mr. Ellsworth says it's best to begin a story with conversation.He says conversations are even better than bananas to begin with. But,gee whiz, I like bananas. If I began with conversation that means I haveto begin it with Pee-wee Harris, because he always does the talking inour troop. He can even talk and eat a banana at the same time.

  He said, "Do you mean to tell me a railroad car can't have a dark past?"

  "Sure," I told him; "maybe it went through a tunnel. Anyway, it's got adark enough present with one kerosene lamp in it."

  "I didn't mean that kind of darkness," he said; "I mean the kind thatsecrets are. You know what a dark secret is, don't you?"

  "It's one that's all black," little Alfred McCord said.

  "Sure," I said; "they're all colors. My sister's keeping one that's akind of pale lavender."

  Pee-wee said, "You're crazy; black is the only color for secrets. Lookat that pirate in the movie play. Didn't it say he kept the dark secretabout where the treasure was for years and years?"

  "He kept it so long it faded," I told him. "Dark secrets are all rightfor old sailing ships, Kid, but when it comes to railroad cars--nix."

  The three of us were sitting on the rock, looking at the old railroadcar that had just been moved down to the field for us. Mr. Temple gotthat old car for us, so we could use it for a troop-room. The men had anawful job moving it from the siding at Bridgeboro Station. They ran itdown to the river on movable tracks and brought it up on one of thebarges. Getting it off into the field was the worst part. They had toleave it right close to the river. Jimmies, we didn't mind that; thenearer the better, that's what I said.

  One of the men that moved that car said it was an old timer. Anyway, itwasn't much good for a car any more, because the springs and the brakesand the couplings were all rusted away, and the roof leaked, only wefixed it with tar paper. Inside there was an old stove in the cornerwith a clumsy old high pipe railing around it. The windows were awfulsmall and the plush seats were all old-fashioned and worn out. Up abovethe windows were old-fashioned wire cage things to put baggage in. Thedoors at the ends were round at the top and the little windows were thatway, too. But, anyway, that old car would make one dandy meeting-place,that was one thing sure.

  All the rest of the fellows had gone home to supper, and Skinny andPee-wee and I were just sitting there looking at the car and thinkinghow we'd have a flag flying on it, and what color we'd paint it when wegot money enough. We were thinking about the different things we'd bringdown and put in it.

  I said, "I wonder how old it is? It's a ramshackle old pile of junk, butthat makes it all the better, for a scout meeting-place." Because maybeyou don't know it, but scouts don't like things to be too civilized,like.

  "Maybe it has romance," Pee-wee said.

  He got that word out of the movie play that had the old pirate ship init. There was something in that play about the old ship being a monumentof romance. I had to laugh, because it seemed so funny to talk that wayabout an old ramshackle railroad car.

  "I mean adventures," he said.

  "Oh, sure," I told him; "that car reminds me of an old Spanish Galleon,it's so different. Maybe some buccaneers used to have their den in it,hey? When I look at that car it reminds me of King Arthur and all thoseold fellows. You've got romances and adventures and things on the brainsince you've been going down to the Lyric. What's puzzling me is howwe're going to fix lockers in it for our stuff, and where we're going tohang our pictures."

  Just then little Alf piped up in that funny way he has and said, "Mymother doesn't believe in adventures."

  "Well," I said "she'll never pull much of a stroke with Scout Harristhen."

  "They always end by somebody getting dead," he said.

  "Just the same," Pee-wee shouted, "I bet that old car is fifty yearsold. I bet if it could talk it would have a tale to tell----"

  "A which?" I said.

  "How do _we_ know where it has been?" he kept up. "Why can't a railroadcar have a-what-do-you-call it--a romantic past, just the same as a shipor an old house where--maybe where George Washington used to stay? How do_we_ know?"

  "Maybe it's the very car that George Washington crossed the Delawarein," I said, just to jolly him along.

  "How about an old Indian stage coach?" he piped up.

  "Kid," I said; "old sailing ships and wrecks and Indian stage coachesare one thing, and wheelbarrows and bicycles and lawn mowers and sewingmachines and railroad cars are another thing. You see pictures ofshipwrecks, but you never see pictures of old railroad cars. You shouldworry. Come on inside and let's measure for the lockers and then let'sgo home; I'm tired out."

  Inside that car there was a funny kind of a smell like there always isin railroad cars. It was kind of like dust and kind of like plush andkind of like smoke. The floor was awful smooth and shiny, just from somany people walking on it for years and years and years. All thewoodwork was walnut and that was a sign of the car being old. A lot ofthe seats were broken and there was one place where two close togetherwere broken. So we had decided to take them away and build our lockersthere.

  I had told the fellows in the troop that I would measure for the lockersbefore I went home, so now I began doing that with the little six-inchrule that I always carry. All of a sudden it slipped out of my hand andfell down between the frame and the plush part of one of those seats.

  "Butter fingers!" Pee-wee said; "I'll get it for you."

  I said, "I guess your fingers are smaller than mine, even if you have abigger tongue than I have."

  "My fingers are smaller than his," little Alf said; "I'll get it foryou."

  Gee whiz, his fingers were little enough, and skinny e
nough, that wassure, because the poor little codger lived down in the slums and I guesshe never had much to eat or much fun either, until he got in with us.That's one thing we're strong on--eats. Especially desserts.

  But our young hero (that's Pee-wee), brushed us both aside with onehand, while he was digging down between the wood and the plush with theother.

  "Got a hairpin?" he shouted.

  "What do you think I am? A Camp-fire Girl?" I asked him. "Here, will alead pencil do?"

  He began poking around in there with the lead pencil and pretty soon hemanaged to lift up the corner of my little steel rule and drew it outwith his fingers.

  "Bully for you," I told him.

  "There's something else down in there," he said. "Wait till I get it. Itfeels like a paper."

  I said, "Don't bother; probably it's a time table."

  "Maybe it's somebody's commutation ticket," he said.

  Because that old car had been used as a way station up at Brewster'sCentre until the railroad built a regular station, and I guess hethought that maybe some one might have dropped a ticket down in thatcrevice in the seat.

  With the lead pencil Pee-wee kept pushing around down there between theplush and the wood and waving us away with the other hand, because I wasafter my pencil.

  "Come on, Kid," I said; "It's getting late. You should worry."

  Just then a little corner of yellow paper came up with the pencil andslipped down again.

  "Now you see," he said; "I almost had it."

  "What good would an old last month's commutation ticket be now?" I askedhim.

  "Shut up," he said, all the while waving us back and wriggling thepencil up sideways in the crack; "I've got it, I've----"

  "Foiled again!" I said, just as the paper slipped down. "Blackbeard, thepirate chief, refuses to give up the paper telling where the treasure isconcealed. Sir Harris gnashes his teeth in rage!" That was just the wayit was in the photo-play.

  All the while, Pee-wee was very carefully moving the pencil so as tolift the paper, and each time the paper slipped down again. And all thewhile he kept waving us back. At last he got hold of the corner of itwith his fingers and hauled it out.

  "_Ha, ha_!" I said, rolling my voice kind of-_you_ know. "Sir Harriswrenches the tell-tale paper from----"

  "_It's dated before you were born!_" Pee-wee fairly shouted. "It's aletter! Now you see! You said it was a time table. Look what it says init--look!"

  Gee whiz, he couldn't have half read it when he handed it to me. Therewasn't any envelope, only an old sheet of paper, all yellow, and it hadbeen folded so long that it almost fell apart where it was creased. Itwas filled with writing in lead pencil and it was so old and dirty thatI could hardly read what it said. I guess Pee-wee would have stumbledthrough it himself, except that one thing that his eye happened to hitfirst of all, knocked him out.

  "Now you see!" he said, all out of breath, he was so excited; "now yousee! Look there!"

  He pointed the pencil to one part of the letter where it said, _bags ofgold_.

  "And look _there_, too," he panted out, all the while pointing with thepencil, "'_dropped in his tracks with a mortal wound_.' So _now_; youthink you're so smart, with your wheelbarrows and sewing machines! Youdon't--you don't find bags of gold in time tables and commutationtickets--do you? You make me tired! This is a--a--deep laid plot, that'swhat it is. You know what mortal wounds are, I hope!"

  "All right, Kid," I said; "you win. Only don't stab me a mortal woundwith the lead pencil, and give me a chance to read it."

  "If--if--if bags of gold aren't romance," he shouted; "then, what is? Tellme that."

  Honest, that kid would find some kind of plots and adventures in avacuum cleaner.

  CHAPTER II--WE READ THE LETTER

  It was pretty hard to read that writing, because it was so old and kindof smeary, and it took the three of us to make the letter out. Even wehad to make up some words to fit into places where the creases were. Butanyway, this is what the letter said:

  March 7th, 1895 Dear Ann:--

  This to tell you how I am robbed of two bags of gold by train robbers that derailed this train north of Steuben Junction and have slight injury to arm from bullet of one scoundrel. Two of our company are here dead, the one being brakeman who received mortal wound in making brave defence of life and property. This ... that I am lucky not to fare worse, for gentleman of Boston is here dying while train speeds with all steam for Watertown where is hospital but ... little hope. There will have wound dressed and stay if doctors require but no danger. But so this will delay me in my return I write to say don't worry, and will mail in Watertown at latest, but likely in village before as ... to get doctor.

  So I have lost all I have of fortune by this outrage of scoundrels who I have made to pay dearly, shooting one and putting end to him as he dropped in his tracks with a mortal wound. This from car window. This other scoundrel would shoot back to revenge, his bullet hitting below my window sill and going through car to my left arm. But I paid him in good measure with a bullet in his leg, but conductor would not listen to stopping train after starting so I must be satisfied to let this scoundrel drag himself in forest with my two bags of my fortune. This because train must make steam for Watertown to care for dying. So ... say I am rough diamond but ... human life sacred even more than gold.

  So I will come back to you and home with no riches for all this work but much love which no scoundrel can steal ... better ... to be thankful. The best reason I would pay this scoundrel ... in one of those same bags ... for you to plant. So you will know how you will now see me again without riches that was the same as you said and you are right. And now it is over like you say nuthing but an adventure. I think more about how we can't have our bench under our Dahadinee Poplar thanks to these scoundrels. But I remembered that you said as you can easy see.

  So now after such battle with theeving villens as you never see I am coming home and send this so you do not worry that I must stop in Watertown even if it is days and with much love.

  Thor.

  CHAPTER III--WE INSPECT PEE-WEE'S POCKETS

  Pee-wee went jumping and dancing around like a cat having a fit, all thewhile waving the letter in the air.

  "What is this? Some new kind of wig-wag signalling?" I asked him.

  "Now you see! Now you see!" he started shouting. "Talk about your pirateships! One fellow _dropped in his tracks_--what more do you want? Anotherone was wounded; see? Now!" I said, "Oh, I'm not complaining. Six wouldhave been better, but one is better than nothing. You win, Kid. This oldpiece of rolling junk has had a past; I admit it. It's been throughadventures."

  "My mother doesn't believe in adventures, because somebody gets dead,"little Alf piped up in that funny way he has.

  "Well somebody got dead here, all right," I told him. "I wish we knewall about it."

  "_Look--look here!_!" Pee-wee fairly yelled. "_Here's the hole!_"

  He had pulled a little wooden button, something like a cork, out of thewoodwork at the side of the car, just a little below the window-sill,and was wriggling his finger in a little round hole that the daylightshowed through.

  "Now you see!" he shouted. "Talk about dark pasts----"

  "You're right, Kid," I said; "we have to take off our hats to this oldcar. It has Blackhead's old schooner _Mary Ann_ beaten twenty ways. Youwin."

  "We've got to--_you_ know--what do you call--it--fathom the mystery," hesaid.

  "I guess there isn't any mystery, Kid," I told him. "But there must havebeen some wild scene, all right."

  Honest, I can't tell you which had me more interested, that little roundhole or the letter. Anyway, it seemed as if one proved the other. Icould just see how the bullet had come in there and hit that fellow'sarm, and kind of, I could see him leaning out o
f the window and I couldsee one of those fellows dead and the other one trying to limp away, andthe train starting with two men dead on it, and another one dying. Youbet, Pee-wee was right; if that old car could only talk....

  "It happened before we were born," Pee-wee said.

  "Yop," I said; "jiminy, you can't stop thinking about it, can you? Thisvery same old car that we're sitting in was rattling along maybe a milea minute, to get to a place where there was a hospital."

  Gee whiz, we forgot all about measuring for the lockers, and just satthere in the car, gaping around. It seemed kind of different thanbefore, on account of what we knew had happened in it. And I justcouldn't stop thinking about that.

  "Do you know what I think?" I said, all the while looking around. "Ithink there's a lot more about this car, too. I think it must have beenin a wreck once; look at those shutters."

  There were about half a dozen shutters that we hadn't been able to pulldown, but the men had done it for us, and now I could see why it wasthey had stuck so. It was because they were all smashed and knocked outof shape. And besides that there was a long board fitted into the sideof the car that hadn't always been there, because it was soft wood, notlike the regular wood of the car.

  "What shall we do about it?" Pee-wee asked me.

  "Nothing, as far as I can see," I told him. "I don't see that there'sanything to _fathom_. I'll paste the letter in the troop-book, afterwe've shown it to the fellows."

  Pee-wee looked terribly disappointed. I guess he had a wild idea thatthat robber was still beating it and that we could catch him if wehurried up. He seemed to think that he was on the trail of something orother.