“It doesn’t matter. Let’s turn down here. It’s no more muddy than any other street, I guess.” So they left the main street behind, turning to the left onto a dimly lighted road which led southward. Overhead the moon gleamed fitfully from between masses of somber clouds. The rain had ceased and the air felt warmer than it had all day. They struck out lustily, splashing through unseen puddles and leaving the town behind them in a jiffy.

“This is something like,” grunted Bob, as he recovered himself from a stumble over a tree root.

“Yes,” Nelson laughed. “If you don’t break your neck, there’s nothing like walking, after all. Remember the dandy times we had last summer.”

“Well, we’ve had pretty good times this summer, too, so far,” replied Bob. “Only, I wish Tommy would show up. I’m beginning to get worried about him. If he doesn’t come back to-morrow we ought to write to his folks, or telegraph, maybe, and see if he’s with them.”

“Oh, tommyrot!” said Nelson. “He wouldn’t go home. Besides, he didn’t have money enough. He’s around somewhere having a good time. I dare say he thinks he’ll get back at us for running away from him.”

“Maybe, but how does he know we won’t go off without him?”

“Well, he knows that he wouldn’t if he was in our place, and doesn’t expect us to.”

“I suppose that’s it. Hello!”

“What?”

“Rain.”

“That’s so. And our friend the moon has retired again. Say, how far from town do you suppose we are?”

“Two miles and a half, maybe.”

“More like three and a half, I’ll bet! Shall we turn back?”

“I suppose so, but I’m not nearly walked out. Maybe it’ll stop raining again in a minute. If there was some place we could go out of the drip for a while – ”

“There’s a light over there.”

“Yes, but it’s a half mile away,” answered Bob. “And blest if I know how we’d get to it. Let’s keep on for a bit. It isn’t raining very hard. Besides, we can’t get much wet.”

So they went on, quickening their pace and watching each side of the road for shelter. A minute later the rain began in earnest.

“Aren’t we a couple of idiots?” laughed Nelson.

“Oh, I don’t know; this is more fun than being cooped up in that little old cabin back there. My, but it is coming down some, isn’t it? What’s that ahead there? A house?”

They broke into a run and headed for the dark object in question. It proved to be a tumble-down shed standing back from the road some five or six yards. It was unlighted and their groping hands encountered only a hasp and padlock.

“Locked,” grunted Bob.

“Not a bit of it,” answered Nelson, lifting the padlock out of the staple. “They knew we were coming.” They pulled one of the folding doors open and slipped inside. “Who’s got a match?” Nelson asked.

“I guess I’ve got some somewhere,” answered Bob. “Yes, here we are.”

In the tiny light they saw that the building had at one time been a blacksmith’s shop. The forge and bellows stood in front of them and the floor was littered here and there with old iron. That the roof was not in the best of repair was evidenced by the numerous puddles on the floor.

“How many matches have you got?” asked Nelson as the light flickered out.

“Three or four. Why?”

“Don’t light any more yet,” was the reply. “I saw a piece of paper over in the corner there. If it’s dry maybe we can have a fire and be comfortable.” Nelson crossed the floor, stumbling over discarded wagon tires and old bits of iron, and finally found what he was after. The prize, several sheets of newspaper, was quite dry, and he found his way back to the forge with it. “Now let’s have a light, Bob,” he said. “And we’ll see if we can find some splinters or something.” Luck again favored them, for a piece of soft pine board was leaning against the side of the forge, and while the match held out Nelson whittled diligently with his knife. Afterwards, in the darkness, he gathered paper and whittlings together in the center of the old fire bed, found some likely feeling bits of charcoal and coke and demanded another match.

“Aye, aye, sir,” answered Bob. Then, “Thunder!” he exclaimed.

He had scratched it on a damp place and the head had rubbed off without lighting.

“Was that the last?” Nelson asked anxiously.

“No, one more. You’d better do it, Nel.” And Bob handed the precious match over to him.

“If this goes out, too – !” muttered Nelson.

“What’s the matter?” asked Bob presently.

“The blamed thing hasn’t any head on it,” answered Nelson disgustedly. “I’ve scraped it and scraped it and – oh, pshaw, it’s a toothpick!”

“Hang!” remarked Bob feelingly.

“And just when I had a fire all ready! Look through your pockets again, Bob. Maybe you’ll find another.” There was a minute of silence during which each searched from pocket to pocket, broken finally by an exultant exclamation from Bob.

“Here’s a piece of one!” he cried. “And it’s the business end, too. Who’s going to scratch it?”

“Me,” answered Nelson. “I know where the paper is. Hand it over. All right. Now here goes!”

The match lighted and Nelson quickly tucked it under the edge of the paper. There was a breathless moment and then success was assured. The paper was in flames and the splinters were crackling merrily. Nelson seized knife and wood again and frantically split off long pieces to feed the flames.

“See if you can’t find some more wood, Bob,” he said. “Here, light one of these pieces and look around.”

Armed with the small torch Bob explored.

“Fine!” he exclaimed presently from a distant corner of the shed. “Here’s a whole box. Part of it’s kind of damp, but I guess the rest will burn.”

He brought it over and knocked it to pieces and soon there was a generous fire flaring up from the old forge. Nelson seized the bellows and found that they still worked, though somewhat wheezily. “Sounds as though it had the asthma,” he said. Presently the coke caught, too, and when they could leave the fire they rummaged the place from end to end, finding enough fuel of various sorts to last them all night if necessary. A gunny sack in a corner held a few quarts of charcoal, there was a loose beam which came away readily under Bob’s persuasion, and a small box which had once held horse shoe nails was discovered under one of the windows where it had done duty as a cupboard. They took off their oilskins and wet shoes, placing the latter near the flames where they soon began to steam prodigiously.

“Wish we had something to sit on,” lamented Nelson.

“That’s easy,” Bob answered. “Here’s this old anvil over here. If we can get it to the fire it will do finely.”

After several minutes of the hardest sort of work they managed to edge it over to the forge. Then they sat down on it, very close together of necessity, and puffed and blew like a couple of porpoises.

“How long are we going to stay here?” asked Nelson, tossing another piece of wood on the flames.

“I don’t know. Until it holds up a bit, I suppose. Listen to it now, will you?”

The rain was pouring down on the roof like a hundred waterspouts.

“We could sleep here if we had to,” said Nelson.

“I suppose so,” Bob answered dubiously, “but I guess I’m a little bit like Tommy; I have a weakness for mattresses and bedding. If – ”

He broke off suddenly and together they turned toward the door which was squeaking back on its rusty hinges. In the opening there appeared a dark form which, while they stared blankly upon it, shuffled into the shed and closed the door behind it.

CHAPTER XX – WHEREIN TOM APPEARS AND THE LAUNCH DISAPPEARS

It was a strange, uncanny form which stood for a moment in the heavy shadows beside the door ere, with slow and shuffling footsteps, it advanced toward them. Some dark covering fell straight from head to feet, and of the face nothing was visible save the eyes which seemed to gleam balefully from the depths of a hood. At the throat the dancing light fell upon the fingers of one hand which clasped the edges of the garment together.

Nelson and Bob found themselves on their feet behind the anvil, although they afterwards had no recollection of having risen. Nelson edged slowly toward the forge, one hand unconsciously reaching backward for a section of the soap box. Bob held his ground and tried to find his voice, but his mouth opened twice before any words issued. And all the while the mysterious, fearsome figure in the dark drapery moved slowly, inexorably toward them across the floor, its shadow gigantically grotesque and horrible, dancing behind it against the farther wall.

“Wh-wh-who – wh-wh-what – ?” stammered Bob nervously.

The figure paused, the eyes glittering menacingly in the light from the leaping flames.

“I come,” said a deep voice, “I come – !”

Nelson seized the stick of wood and held it above his head.

“You come any nearer and you’ll get this in the head!” he cried. The dark-robed figure seemed to pause, and Bob found his courage.

“Who in thunder are you?” he asked angrily. “What do you want here?”

“I come,” began the deep voice again, “I come in three-pound, five-pound, and ten-pound packages; also in glass jars. A rubber band – ”

“Tommy!” cried Nelson.

“Tommy!” growled Bob.

The robe, which suddenly turned out to be a much-bedraggled gray blanket, dropped to the floor and Tom’s grinning face confronted them.

“Hello, you fellows,” said Tom. “What you scared of?”

“You, you little knock-kneed, bandy-legged, cross-eyed runt!” answered Bob angrily. “And for two cents I’d – !”

“Hold up, Bob,” interposed Nelson. “It’s only Tommy, and he isn’t accountable for what he does, you know. Where the dickens have you been, Tommy, and what are you doing here? How did you happen to find us?”

“I’ll tell you all about it in a minute,” answered Tom. “But I’ve got to get warm first. I’m wet through and beastly cold. If you think Bob isn’t dangerous I’d like to get to that fire.”

“Oh, Bob won’t eat you,” answered Nelson. “Come on and get dry. Great Scott, Tommy, I should say you were wet! Give me that blanket and I’ll hang it up here over the bellows. You’d better take those shoes off, too; if they are shoes, that is; they look like gobs of mud.”

Tom backed up to the fire and beamed humorously at Bob.

“You’re an awful little ass, Tommy,” said Bob finally, suppressing a smile. “Where have you been?”

“Wait a bit,” Nelson interrupted. “Here’s my oilskin, Tommy. Take off your coat and trousers and slip this on. You’ll get dry a heap quicker.”

Tom followed instructions and then, with his back to the fire, which Nelson replenished with the remains of the soap box, and his hands in the pockets of the oilskin coat, he explained.

“I’ll tell you the story of my wanderings,” began Tom. “When I woke up on the beach – Say, where’s Dan?” he interrupted himself to ask wonderingly. Nelson told him of that youth’s sudden resolution and departure and Tom continued. “Well, I suppose it was Dan that thought up that joke on me. It was awfully smart – I don’t think!”

“I was afraid you wouldn’t appreciate it,” said Bob regretfully.

“You wait till I get him!” threatened Tom. “Well, when I woke up the launch was gone and the fog was so thick I could kick holes in it. I thought you fellows had gone around the point and so I started after you. But I got into the woods and lost my way; fooled around there pretty near half an hour, I guess. Finally I found my way out and trailed across a turnip patch, or cauliflower grove, or something, and came to a golf course. I had a lovely time there. Strolled all over it, I guess, and saw all the sights – which weren’t very many, after all, on account of the fog. And I got very soppy and beastly hungry. If I’d met a caddy it would have been all up with him then and there; I’d have picked his little bones quite clean. But I didn’t meet a soul – except the flag at the fourteenth hole, and that was made of tin and couldn’t be eaten. After a while, I don’t know how long, I heard music. Thought first I’d died and got to heaven; but I hadn’t. I’d only got to the Seamont Inn.”

“What’s that?” asked Nelson.

“Shut up and I’ll tell you. It’s a dandy big old summer hotel with about three hundred swells stopping at it. And palms and orchestra chaps in red pyjamas and all sorts of frills. Well, I butted in out of the fog with my blanket nicely folded over my arm and my feet wringing wet and no cap nor anything and strolled up to the desk. All the old gentlemen around the fireplace were staring at me just as though I was President Roosevelt.”

“I can fancy the resemblance,” said Bob dryly.

“Well, I asked as big as life for the manager and they sent for him. He was a nice-looking young chap and I told him who I was and all about it. He seemed to think it awfully funny and asked me into his private office and made me tell him all over again about it. Then he wanted to know what I was after. I told him I was after something to eat, principally. So he sent me down to what they called the ‘ordinary,’ which is a young dining room where the nurses and kids eat, and pretty soon I was wallowing in coffee and rolls and beefsteak and Spanish omelet and – ”

“Oh, hush!” begged Nelson.

“ – and some sort of griddle cakes. It was fine. Afterwards I went back to the manager chap and thanked him. ‘And now what are you going to do?’ he asked. Well, I didn’t know. I didn’t feel like setting out to hunt you fellows again and I told him so. But, of course, I didn’t have any money with me, not a red cent, and I told him that, too. So he said I could stay there if I wanted until the next day. But he sort of suggested that I’d better keep out of sight, seeing as I wasn’t exactly dressed for a party. There was an eight-course dinner at one o’clock, although they called it luncheon, and I did pretty well, considering that I’d had my breakfast about two hours before. At the table there was a young fellow about my age and we got to talking. He was the head bell boy; ‘Captain’ he called himself; and he went to school at St. Something-or-other’s in Connecticut. We had a long chin and I found that the bell boys were all schoolfellows, and after luncheon I went up with him and met some of them. They were dandy fellows and I said I wouldn’t mind a job there myself. So the Captain – his name was Roberts – said if I meant it he’d take me on, because they had lost two boys and hadn’t found any new ones yet. So I said ‘Me for the ice-water pitchers!’”

“Well, if you’re not the craziest dub, Tommy!” laughed Nelson.

“Roberts handed me out a nice little plum-colored uniform; long trousers, a monkey jacket with four thousand little round brass buttons down the front and a funny little round cap with a line of gilt braid chasing over the top of it. And a fellow named McCarthy lent me a pair of shoes, because mine weren’t fit to be seen. So I was fixed. But the sad part of it was that as soon as I got to be a bell boy I didn’t eat in the ordinary. And we didn’t get any of the frills. But there was enough of it; you could have all you wanted, you know. I went on duty at six o’clock. There were seven of us and I tell you we were busy! Along about nine o’clock everything began to happen at once; ice water, find the chambermaid, bring sea water in a bucket, find out why the electric light didn’t work, get a plate of oatmeal crackers, find lost kids and – oh, everything! And the bell in the office was thumping holes in itself. But it was pretty good fun. And when you got to the fourth floor you could slide nearly three flights on the banister rail – if no one saw you. But along about twelve or half-past I thought my legs were coming off. They wouldn’t let us ride on the elevator unless we were showing some one to his room and the stairs were fierce. They let me off at one o’clock and I couldn’t wait to get my clothes off. I guess I’ve lost ten pounds.”

Nelson hooted.

“Where did you sleep?” asked Bob.

“In the Servants’ Hall, as they called it; a building back of the hotel with a lot of little rooms with iron beds in them. I could have slept on the office floor or on top of the elevator cage that night! To-day I didn’t have to go to work until twelve o’clock, and I was glad of it, I tell you, for my legs were stiff as anything! They’re stiff yet,” added Tom, stretching them carefully as though he was afraid they might break off, “but not so bad; they’ve got limbered up now.”

“Did they let you off early?” asked Nelson.

Tom shook his head smilingly.

“No,” he answered. “I severed my connection with the Seamont Inn at exactly half-past eight. It was this way. I got a call to Room 86. When I went up there an old codger with a white mustache and a red face lighted into me for not coming sooner; said he’d been ringing for ten minutes and I was the slowest boy he’d ever seen and needed to have some of the fat worked off me. I said I’d bet I could beat him to the end of the hall and back and he got waxy about it; said he was going to send for the manager and have me discharged. I told him to go ahead. So I went downstairs and resigned before the old codger could report me. The manager chap said he guessed I wasn’t cut out for a bell boy. I asked him if I owed him anything and he said No, I’d worked it off. He was very decent about it. I told him I’d be glad to pay him, though, if he thought I owed him anything and he wanted to know how. ‘Thought you said you didn’t have any money?’ said he. I told him I didn’t have any when I got there, but that I’d made four dollars and seventy-five cents in tips. He thought that was funny, too; he had a keen sense of humor for a hotel man. But he said we were square, and so I thanked him and shook hands with him and changed my clothes. Roberts was sorry I was going; said they all had trouble with the red-faced old idiot.”

“He ought to have spanked you, just the same,” said Bob.

Tom grinned.

“He’d have tried it, I guess, if he’d had any clothes on to speak of. Well, I called up the hotel in New London on the ’phone and asked if you fellows had been there and they said you had and had left word that I was to come to the wharf by the ferry slip. So when it stopped raining I started to walk it; they said it was only three and a half miles. But about the time I was half way it began to pour like anything. I got under a tree for a while, but that wasn’t any good and so I came on. When I saw this light I thought it was a house. But while I was trying to find the doorbell I heard you fellows talking. I heard Bob say ‘I guess I’m like Tommy.’ Then I opened the door a bit and peeped in. That’s all.”

“And you thought it would be a fine joke to scare the life out of us, eh?” asked Bob.

Tom nodded.

“Well, you came pretty near to doing it. I never saw a more outlandish object than you were when you came through the door!”

“Why didn’t you go back to the cove yesterday afternoon?” asked Nelson.

“I was bell-boying,” answered Tom calmly. “Besides, you fellows were having your joke and I thought you might as well enjoy it.”

“It would have served you jolly well right,” replied Bob severely, “if we’d gone on and left you.”

“I wouldn’t have cared.”

“Oh, no, I suppose not,” said Nelson sarcastically. “I’d like to know what you’d have done.”

“Stayed right there until I’d made another dollar or two and gone on to New York to Dan’s house.”

“Huh! Dan’s father would have thrown you off the doorsteps! Think he’d have taken in such a looking thing as you were?”

“I’d have risked it,” laughed Tom. “When’s Dan coming back?”

“To-morrow morning. And as soon as he does we’re going to make trades for New Haven. I’m tired of loafing around here doing nothing but hunt for idiots,” said Nelson.

“Meaning me, dearie?” asked Tom. “Hope you choke. Say, can we get back to the boat to-night? It’s raining harder than ever.”

“What time is it?” asked Nelson. “Got your watch on, Bob?”

“Quarter to twelve,” answered Bob. “I vote we stay here and be as comfortable as we can. Is there any more wood?”

“Plenty. There are two or three old gunny sacks around and we can spread those out, put our oilskins on top and sleep finely. We can spread Tommy’s blanket over us.”

So, after building the fire up high, they followed Nelson’s plan and, lying close together for warmth, were soon asleep, with the rain pelting a lullaby on the leaky roof.

They awoke shivering at seven o’clock and started back to town. The sun was out bright and a mile of the muddy road warmed them up. They reached the hotel at half-past eight and went through the entire bill of fare. But it took time and consequently it was almost ten when they crossed the railroad tracks at the station and walked down the wharf. They had left Barry on board the evening before and Bob was calling himself names for deserting him for so long when Nelson, who was a few yards ahead, uttered a cry of astonishment and stopped dead in his tracks.

“What’s the row?” asked Bob, hurrying to his side.

Nelson looked dazedly at Bob and then at the water below them. And Bob and Tom, following his eyes with their own, understood. The Vagabond had disappeared.