CHAPTER XXVI
LARRY'S NARROW ESCAPE
Somehow, instead of being frightened at receiving the ominous message thrust into his pocket in that mysterious manner, Larry felt a sense of relief.
“Well, I'm glad they're at the end of this warning business,” he remarked to himself. “It was getting annoying. I'd rather do some real fighting, than all this sparring in the dark. If they're going to do something let 'em do it, and not be hinting at it all the time. The suspense is worse than anything else.”
As Larry hurried toward his home he could not help feeling a little bit worried lest something had befallen Jimmy. The message seemed to indicate that the patience of the gang was exhausted, and that they would now proceed to act.
Consequently Larry felt much relieved when he reached home, and found his brother and all the others safe. He was tired with his day's work, and went to bed early.
As next day was Sunday Larry decided he would take Jimmy for a trip to Central Park, to see the animals, and find some shady nook where he could take a rest, and make believe he was back in the country again.
Larry thought that it might also serve a good purpose in foiling any ideas the gang might have of kidnapping Jimmy on that day. On Sundays the children generally went for a walk alone, and Larry was afraid that if they did so on this occasion, advantage might be taken of the chance.
After breakfast Larry proposed the trip to Mary and Jimmy. Mrs. Dexter agreed to it, saying that if Larry would look after the younger children she and Lucy would go and visit a friend in Jersey City. Preparations for the trip were soon made, and Larry, with his brother and sister, started off, Mrs. Dexter and Lucy taking an opposite direction.
It was very fine in the park. The birds were singing in the trees, the sky was blue, and the grass was almost as nice as in the meadow in Campton, Larry thought.
“It's jest like the country!” exclaimed Jimmy, running, and turning a somersault on the turf, while Mary gave chase to a gray squirrel that seemed quite tame, and frisked about on the low branches of a tree.
With the children Larry wandered about in various shady places, now and then sitting down to rest. There was a large crowd in the park, for the day was warm.
“Let's go and see the elephants an' tigers,” suggested Mary, her eyes growing big with wonderment in anticipation of the delights of viewing the wild animals.
“All right,” assented Larry, who, though he would not admit it, had a keen desire himself to see the beasts.
They amused themselves by throwing peanuts to the elephant, and Jimmy insisted on giving a share of his to the hippopotamus. The nuts were so small, and the animal's mouth so large, that it is doubtful if he even tasted them.
It was while standing watching the elephants that Larry became conscious that someone was observing him and the children rather closely. A little behind him, as he turned, he could see a short, stout man, who seemed to be much interested in the pachyderms.
Larry was sure this man had been staring at him, but, try as he did, the young reporter could not remember where he had seen him before. As he turned back to look once more at the elephants, Larry noticed that the man's eyes were turned toward Jimmy, who, in a new suit, was an attractive-looking little chap.
“I wonder if he's a kidnapper?” mused Larry, half inclined to laugh at his foolish fancies. “I must keep watch, and see if he follows us when we leave.”
Larry gradually drew the children away from the elephant inclosure, and over to where the monkeys were housed. The reporter watched, but, though he was sure the man looked after them, and noted where they went, he did not leave the spot where he was.
Mary and Jimmy found much to amuse them in the house of the primates. The funny antics of the monkeys kept the crowd in roars of laughter. Even Larry forgot about keeping his eye on Jimmy, and watched the odd contortions of the queer, half-human-looking beasts.
Once again, however, he became aware of that strange feeling of being under observation. Looking around, he saw the same man behind them. Larry had no doubt now but that the fellow was following them.
“Well, if he thinks that he's going to kidnap Jimmy right from under my nose, he'll find he's barking up the wrong tree!” exclaimed Larry, as he put his arm around his brother. “All the same, I guess we'd better get out of here. Some others of the blue-handed man's gang may be on the lookout for us, and I don't care to have a fight.”
They walked about the park a little while longer, and then, as they were getting hungry, decided to start for home. When they boarded a car Larry looked all about to see if he had been followed. There was quite a throng of people, and the reporter, though he was not quite sure, thought he saw the man who had stood near him in the elephants' inclosure, and also in the monkey house. The man, if he was the same one, was accompanied by a boy about Larry's age.
“I'm almost sure that lad was Peter Manton,” thought Larry. “There's something underhanded about this whole thing. I wish I could find out what it is, and break up the gang.”
Larry, with the children, reached home before Mrs. Dexter and Lucy returned. As Mary and Jimmy were hungry, Larry began foraging in the cupboard to find something to give the youngsters.
As he took the cover off a dish in the pantry, to see what the receptacle contained, Larry saw a paper in it.
“That don't look good to eat,” he remarked, as he unfolded it. He gave a start, as he saw a big blue cross on it, while, in bold characters, was printed:
DO NOT THINK WE HAVE FORGOTTEN.
“They've been here since we went away this morning,” thought Larry. “They entered the rooms, and left this note. They must be keeping a close watch on the house, to know when we all go out, or else they would not venture to come in.”
That night Larry called on Mr. Newton. He told the reporter all about the Sunday adventures, including that part about the man, and the finding of the note.
“Don't lose your courage,” advised Mr. Newton. “It begins to look now as if they were only bluffing. Maybe it was all a bluff. Still, don't be too careless.”
“Then there's nothing we can do?” asked Larry, on whom the strain was beginning to tell.
“No, I think not.”
Rather encouraged by the sensible view Mr. Newton took of it, Larry went home, and slept soundly—so soundly, in fact, that he did not get up in time, and was a little late at the office.
“Here's an assignment for you, Larry,” called Mr. Emberg. “They're pulling down a big brick chimney at the old electric light power-station to-day. Going to loosen the base by dynamite, I understand. I want you to get a good story of it. I'll send a photographer with you to get a picture of it as it topples over.”
Larry was soon on his way to the scene of the demolition, accompanied by the photographer. The chimney was a very tall one, and was considered unsafe, as part of the power-house had been destroyed by fire some time before.
Quite a crowd of persons were on hand to witness the operations, as word of what was intended had spread through the neighborhood. There were also several other reporters there, and one or two photographers. Larry found the foreman in charge of the work, and asked him to explain the plan, so as to get a good understanding of it when he should write the story. The foreman went into details about putting a small charge of dynamite under one corner of the stack.
“The force of dynamite is mainly downward,” he stated. “But we think there will be enough upward power to the blast to gently tilt the chimney over to the east, where it will fall without doing any damage.”
“What if it falls the other way, and crashes down on top of those low buildings?” asked Larry.
“We have it guyed up with ropes to prevent that,” was the answer. “I guess there's no danger.”
The preliminary work was almost finished, when a man, carrying a red flag, came out of a small shanty.
“There goes the dynamite,” said Larry, to the picture man. “Now you'll see some fun, I am thinking.”
The foreman made everyone move back out of harm's way. Most persons were glad enough to obey the request, but the reporters, including Larry, said if they had to stay so far back they could see nothing.
“But think of the risk you run,” objected the foreman. “Some of you may be killed.”
“We'll take the chance,” replied several. “We want to be close by when the stack hits the ground, and so do the photographers.”
The foreman interposed no more objections, but ordered the work to go on.
The reporters were gathered in a little group, and after talking matters over decided to move toward a small tool shanty, that stood well to the left of the stack.
“There'll be no danger then,” agreed Larry.
So the scribes went to the hut. The man with the red flag had placed the explosive at the bottom of the stack, and, seeing that everything was in readiness, waved his flag at a signal that he was about to touch off the fuse. At this sign of danger the crowd pressed farther back.
A thin spiral of smoke arose from the fuse. The man with the red flag ran off at top speed. From a window of the shanty the whole affair could be seen.
Suddenly there came a dull, rumbling sound, and the earth shook. Then a little cloud of bricks, mortar, and dust shot upward. Next the tall stack, the foundation of which had been weakened, began slowly to tilt over. As the foreman had desired, it was falling to the left.
Then all at once the stack seemed to hesitate. It appeared to be poised, like the Leaning Tower of Pisa. Next, as though the direction had been changed by a giant's hand, the chimney began falling toward the shanty.
“Those reporters will all be killed!” cried the foreman. “I warned them of the danger. Come out of that!” he yelled, as if they had a chance to obey. Swiftly the tower was coming nearer the earth.
Then, as suddenly as before, the direction of the fall was changed. The chimney, that had been seemingly in one solid piece, broke in the center.
Down on top of the shack crashed the bricks and mortar. The corner of the shanty crumpled up like paper, just after most of the reporters had fled.
Larry, however, was not so fortunate. When the crash came he was in the far corner of the hut. The breaking and rending of timbers had formed a sort of archway above his head, and the blows from the bricks had been somewhat warded off. Larry had a most narrow escape from sudden death.
“Come on out!” called the other reporters to him, as the dust settled.
“I can't!” cried Larry, faintly.