Chapter 22. Hen Dutcher Is Modest

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_ CHAPTER XXII. HEN DUTCHER IS MODEST

For an instant Dave hesitated, reluctant to leave a comrade injured.

"Get after him!" ordered young Prescott, rising somewhat slowly. "Don't let the fellow get out of sight."

At that direct command Dave Darrin darted around the corner, going fast down the side street. A moment later Dick hove into sight, though some distance to the rear of his now more agile chum.

As he ran Darrin felt like rubbing his eyes. By the aid of the street lamps he could see fairly well down to the next corner. The fugitive hadn't had time to cover all that distance in the few moments that he had been out of view.

"Dave!" called Dick, though his voice at first wasn't very loud. Darrin didn't hear, though a moment later he halted, glancing about him and back at his chum. Prescott was beckoning.

"He has darted in somewhere on this block," muttered Dick, as his chum reached him.

"Yes," Dave agreed; "but where?"

"That's too much for us to guess."

"What are we going to do about it?"

"I don't know," Dick confessed disappointedly. "I hate to see Mr. Fits slip away from us like this, though."

"Well, he has done it, anyway," Dave declared. "I'm afraid there isn't much that we can do now."

"We can go down to the next corner, and back on the other side," Dick Prescott proposed. "Look back frequently, Dave, and, if you see Mr. Fits dart out of any house or doorway, then yell to me, and we'll both turn and race after the fellow."

"A nice sprinter you'll make, after that knock down blow on the chest," remarked Darrin dryly.

"Oh, I'm getting a little more wind back every minute," Dick declared cheerily. "I could run, now, if I had to, and in two minutes from now I'll be able to do a whole lot better. Come along. You do the turning to look backward, and I'll use my eyes in front of us."

In this fashion they explored the entire block on both sides. Their slow, thorough search at last brought them back to Main Street, much puzzled and not a little discouraged.

"What now?" inquired Dave.

"We've done all we can," Dick replied, "except find a policeman and tell him that we've seen Fits back in town."

"It's strange that he should come back to Gridley," murmured Darrin. "You'd think that the fellow would be anxious to give the town a wide berth."

"Undoubtedly he has his reasons. But--Dave, there's a policeman. Let's hurry and tell him."

In another moment the two Grammar School boys were engaged in reciting what had happened to a uniformed member of the night police force of Gridley.

"There's no time to be lost," declared the policeman. "For a matter as important as this I'll leave my beat and notify the station house."

"Can we give you any further help?" Dick asked.

"Not a bit, my lad, thank you, unless you see Fitsey again."

As soon as the policeman had gone, Darrin asked rather seriously:

"Dick, are you sure that it really was Fits, and no mistake?"

"Of course I am. Why?"

"Oh, nothing, only it seems so strange to me that the fellow should really venture back into the one town where the police are really anxious to land him."

"It was Mr. Fits that I saw," Prescott insisted. "Besides, no one else would want to knock me down."

"That's so," Dave admitted. "Well, I hope that the police find the rascal."

"It's a lot more likely that we, or some of our fellows, will do the finding," laughed Prescott. "We've done all the finding so far."

At this moment a hand smote Dick heavily between the shoulders, while Tom Reade's laughing voice demanded:

"Fellows, how does home cooking seem again? Isn't it great?"

Harry Hazelton was with Tom.

"We've almost forgotten how good the home cooking is," Dick answered. "We've just had something else to think about."

Then the story of the latest meeting with Mr. Fits was told.

"Jupiter!" breathed Tom excitedly. "Say, I wish we could run that fellow down. I'm just aching to pay him back for the night of ghost scare that he gave us out in the forest!"

"I'd like well enough to see him caught," Dick agreed. "But I can't say that I want to do it myself."

"Why not?" challenged Tom.

"Well, he's a powerful big brute, and I doubt if we four could handle Mr. Fits."

"Huh!" retorted Tom. "I'd like to try it, anyway. And, if we had the chance, and missed, four of us could make noise enough to bring a few men to our aid."

"That part would be all right," Dick agreed. "If we see the rascal again it will be our best move to capture him by yelling for a few men to come up to where we are."

"Hullo, you!" was the greeting of Toby Ross, as that schoolboy stopped and looked at the returned campers. "Have a good time?"

"Fine!" answered four voices at once.

"But," Toby continued, "I never thought there was that much stuff in Hen Dutcher."

"What stuff? What kind of stuff!" demanded Tom.

"Why, Hen is back in Gridley," Toby answered, "and, from the tales he has been telling, he was the whole life and safety of your crowd out in the forest."

"Come to think of it," Tom replied soberly, "I believe he was."

"Then Hen's yarns are true?" asked Toby.

"They must be," Dick responded. "Who ever knew Hen to tell an untruth?"

"Say, stop your fooling, won't you?" begged Toby. "What did Hen actually do out in the forest."

"Why, he ate at least his share," asserted Tom.

"And got his share of sleep," Darrin added.

"He also did his full share of housework," Hazelton supplied, with a grin.

"We're glad he had such a good time," Dick went on politely.

"But did he really do any of the hero stunts that he's telling about?" Toby persisted.

"Not knowing what he's telling about, I really can't say," Prescott answered.

"What is Hen claiming to have done, anyway?" Darrin inquired.

"Oh, Hen says--but come along and hear him for yourselves," Toby finished. "Hen is just a little way down the street, holding forth to a lot of fellows."

"Come along, then," nodded Tom. "Perhaps we can slip in behind Hen without his seeing us, and then we'll know all that he did while we were snowbound."

Toby piloted them. A block and a half down Main Street a group of some twenty Grammar School boys stood, gathered closely around a central object. When Dick and his chums slipped up to the outer edge of the crowd they discovered that central object to be Hen Dutcher, whose back was turned to them.

Though Hen didn't know who was now near him, several of the other boys did, and they passed the wink.

"Hen, tell us again just how it was that you cowed Mr. Fits when he first showed up at the cabin," urged one of the juvenile bystanders.

"Huh! There wasn't much to cow," retorted Hen airily. "Dick Prescott and his chums were pretty well scared, I can tell you. But there was an air rifle standing in the corner, and I knew I could get it if I needed it. So, when Fits ordered Dick Prescott to get him some supper, and Dick was just going to do it, I stepped up, as cool as anything, and I said: 'No, sir; Dick Prescott won't get you any supper in this camp. You'll get out of here, mister,' says I, 'and you'll be quick about it, too.' Well, when Fits looked into my eyes and saw that he couldn't scare me any, he began to whine, and says: 'All right, sir; I won't insist about any supper, but I must sleep here to-night. I'd freeze to death out in the big snowstorm.' 'You won't sleep here, any more than you'll eat here,' says I to Fits. 'But you can sleep out in the cook shack behind this cabin, if you want to.' Fits, he tried to beg off, but when he found he couldn't, he just marched out of the cabin like a man and went to the cook shack."

"Was Fits the one who set fire to the cook shack?" asked another boy in the crowd.

"I--er--I'm not going to tell you anything about that," retorted Hen, trying to conceal his embarrassment under an air of mystery.

"But say, Hen," put in another boy, across the crowd, after winking at Dick, "I really don't see how you could help being scared when you heard those ghost noises the first time."

"Huh! Me? Scared?" responded Dutcher indignantly. "No, sir! Being scared isn't in my line. But the other fellows were tremendously scared. I told 'em, again and again, that the noises were wholly human, and that we hadn't any call to be afraid of any man who used his voice, instead of his hands, against us."

"Was Dick Prescott much scared?" asked one of the auditors, with a quick side glance at Dick.

"Was he?" repeated Hen. "Huh! But, after all, Tom Reade was the biggest boo----"

Here Reade could control himself no longer. His deep chuckle broke on the night air, causing Hen Dutcher to turn with a start.

"Go on, Hen!" Tom encouraged him. "Go on and tell all about it. I'll admit that I was scared. So were all the rest of our crowd. I guess, Hen, you really were the only brave one in the cabin when the blood curdling noises broke loose on us and spoiled our night's sleep."

"Well, I wasn't scared, was I?" challenged Dutcher.

Hen's eye roved until it rested on Dick's face.

"I don't know whether you were, or not," Prescott replied soberly. "I had too much of my own alarm on hand to notice just how you were acting."

"Well, I wasn't scared," Hen asserted vehemently. "And I'd like to see any one dare to say that I was."

"How did you come to get invited with Dick's crowd, anyway?" asked Hoof Sadby.

"I wasn't--just exactly--invited," hesitated Hen Dutcher. "But I was going through the forest when the big snowstorm came up, and----"

"And you made Prescott's crowd invite you into the cabin?" pressed Spoff Henderson.

"Ye-es," claimed Hen reluctantly.

"What have you got to say about all this yarn, Dick Prescott?" called Wrecker Lane.

"Why, from all we've heard," Dick answered dryly, "I don't see any need of adding anything to Hen's story of events. He seems capable of telling all about it himself."

"And Hen really was brave when Mr. Fits was around?"

"He says so, doesn't he?" inquired Dick.

Several laughs answered this question, and Hen began to fidget.

"I wonder what has become of Fits, anyway?" suggested Ned Allen.

"We saw him here in Gridley, not ten minutes ago," broke in Dave Darrin. "We notified the police, too."

"Is that right?" demanded a dozen boys at once.

"Yes," nodded Dick.

"And Fits knocked Dick down," said Harry Hazelton, "but," continued he, "maybe it was that Dutcher boy that he was really looking for."

Hen's face became very pallid and his jaw dropped. He didn't look the hero that he had been claiming to be a minute before. Most of the boys in the crowd began to laugh.

"I've a good mind to tell the crowd that Hen really came out to the forest to help Fred Ripley's crew against us," whispered Harry in Prescott's ear.

"Don't you do it," Dick warned him sternly. "We don't have to blab. Give Hen Dutcher a little time and he'll let it all out himself, without meaning to do it."

"Sa-ay, weren't--weren't you stringing me about--Mr. Fits?" Hen questioned.

"Say, you fellows--hustle!" breathed Greg excitedly, as he joined the crowd. "There's Mr. Fits over at the corner opposite. There--he's turning and running down Abbott Street!"

Like a shot the crowd of boys wheeled and was off in chase. But Hen didn't go with them. Toby Ross, who brought up the rear, saw young Dutcher turn and speed homeward as fast as his legs would carry him. _

Read next: Chapter 23. "This Time Is As Good As Any Other"

Read previous: Chapter 21. On The Trail Backward

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