row, Jack; no bad news about our boats I hope? They haven’t been dropped overboard in the middle of Lake Erie, and sunk?”
“Oh, nothing half so bad; but I must see you,” Jack went on saying. “And George, start some of the rest along too, won’t you?”
“Buster and Josh are on my way, and if they’re home I’ll jolly both into coming. But you’d better try to poke out Herb over the wire,” came the reply.
“I will. So-long, George. Get a move on you now. Important!”
Then Jack put up the receiver, to sever connection; although a moment later he was asking Central to give him the Dickson house. By great good luck Herb happened to be up in his den, doing some packing; for this was the last day he would have at home saving Sunday, and he was a very careful fellow.
After hearing the “call of the wild,” as Jack expressed it, Herb consented to head for the Stormways domicile without any delay. He, too, made use of his wheel to cover the intervening distance; and quite a bunch of boys drew up in the yard about the same time.
Jack and Jimmie met them at the side door.
“Now, what under the sun has he got hold of, fellows?” queried George, nervously, as they filed up to Jack’s snug den; for the serious expression on the faces of Jack and Jimmie gave him considerable concern.
Nick was puffing like a steam engine. The little rush had winded him more or less; but at the same time he also looked anxious. For, as they were on the eve of starting out on their anticipated summer vacation, this sudden summons to headquarters gave him a shock.
“I only hope it ain’t anything about the boats,” he remarked plaintively, as he dropped down in a capacious chair that just suited his stout figure to a dot, and was hence invariably appropriated by Buster every time he came to see Jack.
“Well,” remarked Jack, “I might as well admit right in the start that it does concern our three motor boats.”
“Don’t tell me that any tragedy has happened to ’em, Jack?” pleaded George, who was known to have a great affection for his Wireless, even though the cranky speed boat did seem to delight in playing many cruel tricks upon its skipper.
“No, not yet, I believe,” came the answer.
“Good! You make me feel better already, Jack!” exclaimed George.
“But hold on!” cried Herb; “you noticed that he said ‘not yet,’ didn’t you, boys? Don’t you see what that means? The boats are in danger; ain’t that so, Jack?”
“I’ve pretty good reason to believe so,” replied the owner of the den; and then he whipped out the crumpled telegraph blank. “Here, read that, fellows, and tell me what you think. It fell from the pocket of Clarence Macklin not half an hour ago. And I understand that he sent off a message along these lines, after he had changed the wording a little.”
Eagerly four heads were clustered above the yellow paper which he had smoothed out on the chess table. Clarence wrote a plain hand, so that there was no trouble in making out every word.
“Well, wouldn’t that knock you?” gasped Nick, who had as yet failed to entirely recover his wind after his quick passage on his wheel to Jack’s home, followed by the climb up two lights of stairs to the attic den.
“Jack, you’re right; he means our boats!” ejaculated Herb, with a trace of indignation and horror in his voice.
“Oh! the miserable skunk, what wouldn’t I give for the fun of punching his head for him. Just wait, the chance will come some fine day. Let them dare do anything to my bully little Wireless! Why, Jack, they could be sent to prison for a long term if they destroyed the boats.”
Of course that was Skipper George, whose father being a lawyer, visions of the stern hand of justice were always cropping up in the boy’s mind.
“The way I look at it is this,” Josh went on, deliberately; “Clarence has a crony in Clayton, some fellow he knows by the name of Jared Fullerton. Seems to me I’ve heard him mention that name, too, though I don’t remember anything about him. But he’s meaning to hire this chap to do something worth an even hundred. Fellows, we can give a quick guess that something has to do with our three boats, which by now must be lying on the steamboat dock there, waiting for us to arrive.”
“You hit the nail on the head that time, Josh,” declared Jack. “And I’ve asked you all to come here so we could talk the matter over, and decide what ought to be done.”
An animated discussion followed. Some suggested one thing, which was debated proand con; then another new idea would crop up, which they eagerly seized upon, being deeply concerned about the safety of the precious craft.
“Whatever do you suppose that sneak of a Fullerton could do, to put our craft out of the running?” asked Nick, finally.
“Well, he might accidentally drop a lighted match under the tarpaulin cover of one. You know it would flame up pretty quick, and might set the whole bunch going like a pack of fire-crackers,” Josh observed.
“Well, I hardly think any one would take such chances at that,” Jack remarked; “because, you see, they are lying on a public dock, and if a big fire resulted it would mean the penitentiary for Jared. But no matter, if a fellow only happened to be mean enough he could find lots of ways to injure boats like ours. And for one, I don’t propose to take the chances.”
“Tell us your plan, Jack; we’ll stand by you,” cried Buster.
“All right,” said the other, quickly; “then listen. I propose that George and myself go and see his father, and ask his advice. You fellows make yourselves at home here; and after we’ve got things going we’ll come back to report. How does that strike you?”
“I say yes!” Josh hastened to cry.
As the others were of the same mind, Jack and George hurried away. It being Saturday morning, George knew that his father would not be very busy at his law office and could easily spare them a little time.
They found Judge Rollins without any client, which Jack considered lucky, since haste was an element in their calculations just now. And after he had heard the whole story, scanned the incriminating telegraph blank, and asked numerous questions, the lawyer smiled, and said he was ready to give his advice.
“Here is the address of a party I know in Clayton, and whose name just came to me while you were talking, Jack,” he observed. “Try and get him on the long distance phone, and explain the circumstances to him as you have to me. I feel sure that if you can reach Amos Spofford everything will be all right.”
Accordingly the two lads immediately hustled around to the central station of the telephone company, where they could use the long distance phone to better advantage than in a drug-store.
Having the local number of the party to whom the judge had referred them, Jack, who had taken it upon himself to do the talking, because George was apt to get excited, and splutter in a way that might interfere with the carrying of his message to such a long distance, asked to be connected with the Clayton office.
Of course, there was more or less delay, as usual, and the two boys became quite nervous before there finally came a faint call.
When Jack learned that it was really Mr. Spofford who was at the other end of the wire, he started to explain that it was Judge
