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The Grammar School Boys of Gridley, a fiction by H. Irving Hancock |
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Chapter 7. Dick Leads A Spirited Rush |
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_ CHAPTER VII. DICK LEADS A SPIRITED RUSH "Hustle, Dave--into the cab!" shouted Dick Prescott lustily. Darrin obeyed like a flash, pulling the door shut. "What are you young monkeys doing here?" yelled the driver hoarsely. Then, as he caught better sight of them, he snarled: "Oh, I know you boys! You belong to the Butt-insky family!" The driver's next remark was "ouch!" as Greg darted in and struck him fairly at the belt line. In the same instant young Prescott managed to trip the fellow. "Boss!" bawled the driver, as he struck the pavement. "Into the cab with you, Greg!" shouted Dick. Dave swung the door open, and in the same instant Greg bolted inside, while Dick Prescott made a single bound at the front wheel, from which he mounted to the driver's seat. "None of that!" yelled the driver, getting upon his feet and moving forward. At the same moment another man came to the door of the drug store. That man was--must have been--Abner Dexter. He wore the same clothes that Dick remembered, but over his head and face were drawn a wig and beard that made him look some one else. Whish! Dick's left hand clutched at the reins, but his right hand grasped the whip. That useful implement described an arc downward and caught the driver roundly, judging by the yell that the fellow let out. "Gid-dap!" yelled young Prescott, completing the swing of the whip by bringing it down across the horses' backs. The startled animals leaped forward, the lurch almost throwing Dick from the box; in fact, it nearly overturned the cab. But the vehicle soon righted itself, and Dick, somewhat scared, yet steady, pulled the horses down to a steady trot and reined them in closer together. The disguised man who had come out of the drug store succeeded in resting one hand for an instant on the body of the cab. But the springing horses carried it away from him. For a few rods the man pursued, the smarting driver bringing up the rear. Then both pursuers halted, panting, cursing, at the same time, as only foul-mouthed ruffians can. Inside, Myra was shrieking with fright. "We're your mother's friends, Myra, and are taking you back to her," explained Dave, holding the small child on his knee and trying to quiet her. Greg Holmes, in the meantime, was more concerned with looking out of the window. "Why, say," muttered Greg. "Dick ain't driving to Mrs. Dexter's, not by a long shot. He seems to be heading straight into the business part of the town." "You leave Dick Prescott alone to know what he's doing," advised Dave Darrin calmly. "Yes; I guess that's right," assented Greg. "Dick is the longest-headed fellow in our school." "Except me," grinned Greg modestly. "You? Huh! I'm glad you're not outside on the box." "I reckon it's the first time Dick ever drove cab horses." "He'll do it right, anyway." "But I wonder why he isn't going to the Dexter house," pursued young Holmes. Then Myra took fright again. "Take me home!" she cried. "I want to see my mamma!" From that she passed into wild sobbing, taxing all Dave Darrin's powers to ease her mind. "You're going home, Myra," he wound up. "You're going to see your mother." "My papa is a bad man!" "Well, he's not here now," smiled Dave. "Did you ever hear of Dick Prescott?" "Yes; he's a nice boy." "You're right he is," added Dave with enthusiasm. "Well, Dick is up outside, driving the horses, and he'll take us home by the way that it's best to go." "Here we are in Main Street," announced Greg wonderingly. Dave thought he began to understand Prescott's plan, but he said nothing. A few moments later the cab turned down one of the side streets, then halted before a cluster of lights. "The police station!" exploded Greg. "Of course," nodded Dave. "Why 'of course'?" "Because it's part of Dick's plan." "Come out, fellows," called Dick. "We're at the end of our trip, thank goodness." Greg opened the door, Dave stepping out with Myra in his arms. "My mamma doesn't live here," cried the child uneasily. "No, but it's all right," Dave urged soothingly. "You come right along and see if it isn't." Dick led the way up the police-station steps. In the office three uniformed members of the force were talking excitedly. One of them was the night lieutenant, Janeway. "I tell you, Lieutenant, the thing was done so slickly that the child ain't going to be found to-night," one of the patrolmen was saying. "If you're talking about Myra Dexter, guess again," laughed young Prescott. "Here she is now." Three astounded policemen turned to regard the happy-faced Grammar School boys. "Then she wasn't stolen at all?" demanded one of the patrolmen. "Just strolled away and got lost, eh?" "Oh, no!" Dick retorted. "Myra was stolen, all right; but we stole her back again." "How?" "We took her away from her father and a cab-driver," chuckled Greg Holmes. "Stop telling us any nonsense like that," interposed the lieutenant sternly. "Tell us where you found the child." Dick related the story briefly. The policemen were at first inclined to doubt the story, but one of them glanced outside and saw the cab. "If you'll let me offer a suggestion," went on Dick, "there's a mother at home who is nearly crazy with grief. Hadn't you better call Mrs. Dexter on the telephone and tell her that Myra is safe with you?" The lieutenant quickly wheeled to his 'phone, calling for Mrs. Dexter's number. One of the policemen, in the meantime, received Myra in his arms. "Mrs. Dexter?" called the lieutenant into the transmitter. "This is the police station. We have your little girl here, all safe and sound. How was she found? Three schoolboys, Dick Prescott, Dave Dar---- Oh, you know the names? Well, they trailed the cab to where it had stopped outside of a drug store. They knocked the driver down and got away with the cab. How did three boys manage to do such a deed? Wait! I'll let Master Prescott himself tell you over the 'phone." The lieutenant wheeled about. "Where in the name of mischief are those boys?" he demanded. The two policemen turned in equal confusion. Certain it was that the Grammar School boys had bolted. So the lieutenant sent out to find a driver, and one of his policemen got inside with Myra, to take her home. The policeman was also instructed to remain on guard outside through the night, in case Dexter and his confederate should feel inclined to make another attempt to abduct the little one. Dick and his chums, after leaving the station house silently, had run until they found themselves around the corner on Main Street. "We don't want to be thanked any more by Mrs. Dexter to-night," Dick ventured to his friends. "We certainly don't," agreed Dave. "What'll we do now?" asked Greg. "We'll go home," suggested young Prescott. "Our folks will be wondering where we are." "Whee! But we'll have a lot to tell the folks!" chuckled Greg. "When my mother hears what we've been through to-night the chances are ten to one that she'll make me stay in nights." "Not if she pauses to think what you did to help another mother out," hinted Dave. "Well, good night, fellows," called Dick as he reached his corner. "We've had a bully time, but that won't get us up early in the morning." The bookstore was due to close at nine o'clock, but it was twenty-five minutes after that hour when Dick swung in through the front door. "Mother, here's the boy," called Mr. Prescott, being the first to espy the returning son. "Young man, you'll have to give your mother a good account of yourself. She's been worrying about you." "Oh, I knew Dick was in no great danger," laughed Mrs. Prescott, coming forward to kiss her son, now that her worry had ended pleasantly. "But, Richard, you're still a bit young to stay out so late." "I suppose, mother, that depends a bit upon what I've been doing, doesn't it?" "Why, has anything happened out of the usual?" "I'll tell you about it," agreed the lad. "Wait until I put up the shutters and lock the door," directed his father. "Then we'll all go upstairs." Gathered on the floor above, the Prescotts listened in amazement to what their son narrated. "Why, I never heard of so much happening before in one day," gasped Mrs. Prescott. "It never happened to me, before, anyway," laughed Dick. "However, I hope I've brought home a good excuse for being out a little late." "Dick," broke in his father solemnly, "the next time any such train of events happens you have my permission to be out until--let me see. Well, say, until quarter of ten. But don't let such things happen too often. And now, to bed with you!" "Dick is not going to bed just yet," interposed his mother. "A boy who has been as active as he has to-night is bound to be hungry. Come with me to the pantry." _ |
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