Lost on the Moon, Roy Rockwood [best reads of all time .txt] 📗
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projectile nearly every minute of the day, and whoever it was, must
have watched his chance, slipped in, stayed a few seconds, and then
slipped out again.”
They went carefully over the entire projectile, but could find no
further damage done. Nor were there any traces of the person who had so
nearly caused a tragedy. Washington and Andy, after a careful search
outside the shed, had to admit that they had no clews.
“Well, the only thing to do is to go to work and build a new small
motor,” announced Professor Roumann, after once more looking over the
debris of the one that had exploded.
“Will it take long?” asked Jack.
“About two weeks. Fortunately, I can use some of the parts of this one,
or we would be delayed longer.”
“Still two weeks is quite a while,” suggested Mark. “Perhaps there’ll
be no diamonds left on the moon when we get there, Jack,” and he smiled
jokingly.
“Oh, I fancy there will. The article in the paper from Mars says there
was a whole field of them.”
“This brings up another matter,” said Professor Henderson. “What will
happen if we bring back bushels and bushels of diamonds?—which, in
view of what the paper says, may be possible. We will swamp the market,
and the value of diamonds will drop.”
“Then we must not throw them upon the market,” decided Professor
Roumann. “The scarcity of an article determines its value. If we do
find plenty of diamonds, it will give me a chance to conduct some
experiments I have long postponed because of a lack of the precious
stones. We can use them for laboratory purposes, and need not sell
them. In fact, with the Cardite we brought back from Mars, we have no
lack of money, so we really do not need the diamonds.”
It was decided, in view of the shock and upset caused by the explosion,
that no further work would be done that day, and so, after carefully
locking the shed, and posting Andy on guard with his gun, the boys and
the professor went into the house to discuss matters, and plan for work
the next day.
“Mark,” said Jack in a low voice, as they followed the two scientists,
“I think it’s up to us to try to find that mysterious man who sent the
note. I think he did this mean trick!”
“So do I, and we’ll have a hunt for him. Let’s go now.”
ON THE TRACK
The two boys gazed after Professors Henderson and Roumann. The
scientists were deep in a discussion of various technical matters,
which discussion, it was evident, made them oblivious to everything
else.
“Shall we ask them?” inquired Jack in a whisper.
“No; what’s the use?” queried Mark. “Let’s go off by ourselves, and
perhaps we can discover something. If we could once get on the trail of
the man who wrote the note, I think we could put our hands on the
person responsible for the blowing up of the motor.”
“I agree with you. We won’t bother them about our plans,” and he waved
his hand toward the scientists, who had, by this time, entered the
house.
“In the first place,” said Mark, as he and his chum turned from the
yard, and walked along a quiet country road, “I think our best plan
will be to find Dick Johnson, and ask him just where it was he met the
man who gave him a quarter to bring the note to me.”
“What for?” asked Jack.
“Why, then, we can tell where to start from. Perhaps Dick can give us a
description of the man, or tell from what direction he came. Then we’ll
know how to begin on the trail.”
“That’s a good idea, I guess. We know where he disappeared to, or,
rather, in nearly what direction, so that will help some.”
“Sure. Well, then, let’s find Dick.”
To the inquiries of the two lads from the projectile, Dick Johnson
replied that, as he had asserted once before, that the man was a
stranger to him.
“He was tall, and had a big black mustache,” Dick described, “but he
kept his hat pulled down over his eyes, so I couldn’t see his face very
well. Anyhow, it was dark when I met him.”
“Where did you meet him?” asked Mark.
“Not far from your house. He was standing on the corner, where you turn
down to go to the woollen mill, and, as I passed him, he asked me if I
wanted to earn a quarter.”
“Of course you said you did,” suggested Jack.
“Sure,” replied Dick. “Then he gave me the note, and told me where to
take it, and I did. That wasn’t wrong, was it?”
“No; only there seems to be something queer about the man, and we want
to find out what it is,” replied Mark.
“What was the man doing when you saw him?” asked Jack.
“Standing, and sort of looking toward your house.”
“Looking toward our house?” repeated Jack. “Was he anywhere near the
big shed where we build the machines?”
“Well, I couldn’t say. Maybe he might have been.”
“I guess that’s all you can tell us,” put in Mark, with a glance at his
chum, to warn him not to go too much into details with Dick, for they
did not want it known that some enemy had tried to wreck the
projectile.
“Yes, I can’t tell you any more,” admitted the small lad.
“Well, here’s a quarter for what you did tell us,” said Jack, “and if
you see that man again, and he gives you a note for us, just keep your
eye on him, watch where he goes, and tell us. Then you will get a half-dollar.”
“Gee! I’ll be on the watch,” promised Dick, his eyes shining at the
prospect of so much money.
“Come on,” suggested Jack to his chum, after the small chap had
departed. “Let’s go down by the white bridge and make some inquiries of
people living in that vicinity. They may have seen a stranger hanging
around, and, perhaps we can get on his trail that way.”
“All right,” agreed Mark, and they walked on together.
They had gone quite a distance away from the bridge, and had made
several inquiries, but had met with no success, and they were about to
give up and go back home.
“I know one person we haven’t inquired of yet,” said Mark, as they
tramped along.
“Who’s that?”
“Old Bascomb, who lives alone in a shack on the edge of the creek. You
know the old codger who traps muskrats.”
“Oh, sure; but I don’t believe he’d know anything. If he did, he’s so
cranky he wouldn’t tell you.”
“Maybe he would, if we gave him a little money for some smoking
tobacco. It’s worth trying, anyhow. Bascomb goes around a great deal,
and he may have met a strange man in his travels.”
“Well, go ahead; we’ll ask him.”
The muskrat trapper did not prove to be in a very pleasant frame of
mind, but, after Mark had given him a quarter, Bascomb consented to
answer a few questions. The boys told him about looking for a strange
man, describing him as best they could, though they did not tell why
they wanted to find him.
“Wa’al, now, I shouldn’t be surprised but what I know the very fellow
you want,” said the trapper. “I met him a couple of days back, an’ I
think he’s still hanging around. Fust I thought he was after some of my
traps, but when I found he wa’ant, I didn’t pay no more attention to
him. He looked jest like you say.”
“Where was he?” asked Jack eagerly.
“Walkin’ along the creek, sort of absent-minded like.”
“You don’t know where he lives, or whether he is staying in this
vicinity, do you?” inquired Mark.
“Ya’as, I think I do,” replied the trapper.
“Where?” cried Jack eagerly.
“Wa’al, you know the old Preakness homestead, down by the bend of the
creek, about four mile below here?”
“Sure we know it,” answered Mark. “We used to go in swimming not far
from there.”
“Wa’al, the old house has been deserted now for quite a spell,” went on
the trapper, “and there ain’t nobody lived in it but tramps. But the
other night, when I was comin’ past, with a lot of rats I’d jest taken
out of my traps, I see a light in the old house. Thinks I, to myself,
that there’s more tramps snoozin’ in there, and I didn’t reckon it was
none of my business, so I kept on. But jest as I was walking past the
main gate, some one come out of the house and hurried away. I had a
good look at him, an’–-”
“Who was it?” asked Mark impatiently, for the old trapper was a slow
talker.
“It was the same man you’re lookin’ for,” declared Bascomb. “I’m sure
of it, an’ he’s hangin’ out in the old Preakness house. If you want t’
see him, why don’t you go there?”
“We will!” cried Jack. “Come on, Mark. I think we’re on the trail at
last.”
MARK IS CAPTURED
Eagerly the boys hurried forward, intent on making the best time
possible to the old Preakness homestead, which was a landmark for miles
around, and which, in its day, had been a handsome house and estate.
Now it was fallen into ruins, for there was a dispute among the heirs,
and the property was in the Chancery Court.
“Do you think we’ll find him there?” asked Mark, as they made their way
along the dusty highway. “Hard to tell. Yet, if he’s hanging out in
this neighborhood, that would be as good a place as any, for him to
hide in.”
“I wonder who he can be, anyhow? And how he knows me?”
“Give it up. Evidently he isn’t a tramp, though he stays in a place
where there are plenty of the Knights of the Road.”
The boys increased their pace, and were soon on the main road leading
to the Preakness house, and about a mile away from it. “We’ll soon be
there now,” remarked Jack. “Then we’ll see if we can find that man.”
As he spoke, the lad put his hand in his pocket, and, a moment later,
he uttered a startled cry.
“What’s the matter?” asked Mark, in some alarm.
“Matter? Why, gee whiz! If I haven’t forgotten to send that telegram
Professor Henderson gave me! It’s to order some special tools to take
along on our trip to the moon. They didn’t come, and the professor
wrote out a message urging the factory to hurry the shipment. He gave
it to me to send, just before the accident to the motor, but when that
happened it knocked it out of my mind, I guess. I stuck the telegram in
my pocket, and here it is yet,” and Jack drew forth a crumpled paper.
“Wouldn’t that make you tired?” he asked. “It’s important, and ought to
go at once. The professor won’t like it.”
“I’ll tell you what to do,” suggested Mark, after a moment’s thought.
“The telegraph office isn’t so far away from here. You can cut across
lots, and be there in fifteen or twenty minutes. Tell ‘em to rush the
message, and it may be in time yet. Anyhow, we’re going to be delayed
because of the accident
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