CHAPTER XVIII
THE SOCIETY AWAITS RESULTS
THE three boys stared at Harry’s dismayed countenance in bewilderment. Dick was the first to find his voice.
“What do you mean?” he exclaimed. “Our money? The—the funds of the society?”
Harry, still perched precariously on top of the empty box, nodded silently, looking down anxiously from face to face.
“But what—how did it come here?” demanded Roy.
“I put it up here on top of this rafter for safe keeping,” wailed Harry. “I didn’t think it was safe to have so much money in the house; one summer there was a thief broke in and stole a lot of things, you know! So I put it in a little chamois bag and tied it up tight and put it up here on this joist, right in the corner here. And now—now it’s gone as anything!” And Harry’s voice hinted of tears.
“Don’t you care,” said Chub cheerfully. “We’ll find it all right, Harry. It couldn’t have walked off by itself. We’ll have a good hunt for it. Where is there a ladder?”
“I know,” answered Roy, disappearing into the shadows at the farther end of the barn. Harry jumped down from the box and when the ladder arrived it was placed against the rafter and Dick climbed up to where he could look along the dusty ledge.
“Nothing here,” he said promptly. “It must have fallen down. Look around underneath, fellows. Bring the lantern.”
“Stop your swearing,” exclaimed Methuselah mildly, his head stuck interestedly out of his box. Dick, climbing down the ladder, absent-mindedly stretched out his hand and was rewarded with a playful nip which almost caused him to lose his footing. Roy had brought the lantern and for some minutes the four searched carefully about the barn floor. Methuselah, apparently elated at having nipped Dick’s finger and much excited by the commotion, strutted and climbed about his cage and chattered incessantly. In the end they had to acknowledge defeat. They sat down and eyed each other questioningly.
“The only thing I can think of,” said Dick finally, “is that rats or mice must have found it and carried it away.”
“I don’t believe there are any rats or mice here,” said Harry, “except those in the cages. Spot caught them all ages ago.”
“Besides,” said Roy, “it was too big and heavy for a rat to lug away.”
“They might have chewed it to pieces, though,” Chub suggested.
“Then we’d have found the pieces,” said Dick.
“It was stolen,” said Harry solemnly.
“Who stole it?” Roy asked. Harry shook her head.
“I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe, though, there was a tramp or some one in the barn when I put it up there, and he saw me do it and went and got it afterward.”
“Well, that’s possible,” agreed Dick. “But I don’t think any tramp would get so far from the road as this, even for a place to sleep. Besides, there’s Snip.”
“Snip sleeps at the Cottage,” said Harry.
“Well, if it was stolen, whoever stole it must have seen you put it there, because no one would ever think of looking on top of a rafter in a barn for money.” Dick hesitated. Then, “How about John, the gardener?” he asked.
“Oh, he wouldn’t steal anything,” declared Harry emphatically. “Besides, he wasn’t in here when I put the money there. Because when I got back to the Cottage he was shoveling the snow from the steps.”
“How long ago did you put it there?” Chub asked. Harry thought a moment.
“About a month ago,” she answered.
“Then if it’s stolen,” Chub said, “I guess the fellow who got it has spent it by this time. I’m glad I didn’t pay that ninety cents, anyhow.”
Roy laughed.
“There’s just one of us here,” he said, “who probably knows who took it, and he can’t tell.”
“Who do you mean?” asked Chub.
“Methuselah, of course.”
“Oh!” exclaimed Harry. “That’s so, isn’t it? And to think that he can’t tell us!”
“You might ask him,” Dick suggested. The others smiled; all save Harry. She jumped up and walked gravely across to the cage. Methuselah ceased his chatter as she drew near, put his head on one side and studied her inquiringly with his beady eyes.
“’Thuselah,” said Harry, “won’t you please tell us who stole our money?”
The parrot blinked, ruffled his feathers and put one foot through the bars until his yellow claws were clasped tightly about Harry’s finger. Then he chuckled hoarsely.
“He does know,” said Harry sadly, “and he wants very much to tell me. Don’t you, you old dear?”
“Roy!” said Methuselah suddenly and sharply. Harry started back in alarm and the others broke into laughter.
“Give it back, Roy,” said Chub. “You might as well, you know; you’re discovered.”
“Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?” said Harry severely. “You mustn’t tell lies, ’Thuselah.”
“He saw you all right,” laughed Chub. “Better ’fess up, Roy!”
“He’s a traitor,” said Roy, smiling. “I gave him a nickel to keep still about it.”
“Well, the money’s gone,” said Dick, “and there’s no use in crying over spilled milk. After all, we’re only out about twenty-four dollars. I’ll write to the bank and tell them not to pay that check, if they haven’t done it already. Meanwhile we’ve got to have money to get that printing done and to pay for the typewriting and stamps. So I’ll advance it. If we find the money again you can pay it back to me, Harry.”
“I shall make it up myself,” said Harry resolutely. “It may take me a long time, but I’ll pay it all back.”
“Nonsense!” cried Roy.
“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” said Dick. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“Yes, it was. I shouldn’t have put it there. It was a very silly thing to do. I ought to have put it in the bank.”
“That’s all right,” said Chub. “I guess every fellow is willing to stand his share of the loss. And I tell you what I’ll do: I’ll pay that ninety cents I owed next Saturday, as soon as I get my next allowance.”
“You mustn’t give it to me,” said Harry sadly. “I’m not going to be treasurer any more.”
“Oh, yes, you are,” said Dick cheerfully. “As soon as we get some more funds you’re to look after them. Isn’t she, fellows?”
“Of course,” answered Roy and Chub heartily.
“Besides,” said Roy, “I wouldn’t be surprised if we found that money yet.”
“Going to give it back, are you?” asked Chub with a laugh.
“Cut it out,” answered Roy. “I’ll think I did swipe it if you keep on talking about it.”
“Thunder!” exclaimed Dick suddenly. “It’s almost ten o’clock! We’ll get the dickens if we don’t run for it. Grab the lantern and come on. The meeting’s adjourned!”
Three days later the fourteen letters, neatly typewritten on paper bearing the inscription “Ferry Hill School Improvement Society” printed across the top in impressively large and black type, and signed “Richard Somes, President,” were mailed to their destinations, and there was nothing for the members of the society to do but await results. The barn had been thoroughly searched by daylight, but the missing chamois bag with the society’s funds had not been found. The bank in New York had replied that Dick’s check had not been presented and that if it was it would not be honored. For the rest, the members accepted their losses philosophically, while Chub, to prove his faith in the treasurer, paid over to her on Saturday the sum of ninety cents. This, representing the entire assets of the society, Harry wore pinned inside of her dress, in an envelop. And for the first day she felt anxiously for it every few minutes.
April hurried along with uncertain skies and warm days, and Spring Vacation came and went. By the first of May the cinder track was in good hard condition and every afternoon the track team worked like Trojans, every fellow animated by the resolve to do his full share toward winning success in the meet with Hammond, now only a little more than a week distant. Dick grew more hopeful as the days passed, and after the handicap meeting on the Saturday before the Hammond games, he even dared think of the possibility of a victory over the rival school.
“I can figure it out on paper,” he told Roy, “so that we win by three points. But of course that means that every fellow must do a little bit better than he did to-day.”
Roy had won the quarter-mile from Pryor and Kirby with a small handicap and was consequently feeling pretty optimistic himself.
“I don’t believe Hammond’s team is so awfully good this year, anyhow,” he declared. “They lost four of their best men last spring, you know. If we were only a little better in the field events we might stand a pretty good show of winning, Dick.”
“I know, but you can look for Cole to do some good work next Saturday at the broad jump, and as for the hammer and shot, why, we’ve got just as good men as they have, I guess. It’s the hurdles and pole-vault that I’m worrying about. A chap can’t learn how to hurdle in two months. Both Kirby and Glidden were as slow as cold molasses to-day, and Kirby knocked down every bar except one in the two-twenty.”
“I thought you had Chase there in the mile for a while,” said Roy. “It looked to me as though you were going to pass him at the beginning of that last lap.”
“I thought so too,” answered Dick, “but he had more wind left than I had. I don’t know why it is, but I haven’t been able to do anything like my best this spring. I’ll have to get a move on next Saturday if I’m going to win a point. I’d feel like the dickens if I didn’t, you know.”
“Don’t you worry,” answered Roy. “You’ll do all right.”