Chapter IX On the Trail
“That—that music!” murmured the wooden-legged sailor. “Are there two of those organ grinders? There was one playing at Hiram’s cabin, and now down here—another one—I don’t like it!”
“Why not?” asked Ned, struck by a peculiar look on the man’s generally smiling face.
“Just superstition, I reckon,” was the answer. “But I never yet heard two different hand organs close together on the same day, but what bad luck followed me. I don’t like it, I tell you!”
“This isn’t, necessarily, another hand organ grinder,” remarked Bob as the music came nearer, or, rather the nearer they approached it, for the auto was still progressing.
“Do you mean it could be the same one we heard back at the cabin?” asked Jolly Bill. “That was five miles back. Those dagoes don’t travel that fast.”
“There’s a short trail down Storm Mountain a man can take on foot and beat an auto that has to go by the road,” explained Bob. “Or this man may have been given a lift by some motorist and have started before we did.”
“Yes, I suppose so,” murmured Jolly Bill. “But I’d like to make sure it’s the same one.”
“It is—there he stands,” exclaimed Harry, pointing as they made a turn in the road, and saw the dispenser of music grinding away near a house, out in front of which were several children laughing with delight at the antics of the monkey.
Jolly Bill stared hard at the organ grinder as Bob’s flivver passed him, and it may be said that the grinder also favored the party in the car with a searching glance. However, it appeared to be more of curiosity than anything else, for the man turned aside and called to his monkey, yanking on the long string that was fastened to the collar on the neck of the simian.
“Yes, it’s the same one all right,” murmured Jolly Bill, as they left him behind. “The same one—I’m glad of it.”
He seemed to be brooding over something not connected with the matter in hand, and it was not until Harry made a remark that he took up the telling of the tale.
“Why did you leave any of the gold on the South Sea island?” the lad wanted to know.
“Oh, yes, I started to tell you when that music came along. Well, the reason was that it was Hank Denby’s plan. Hank always had a better head on him than any of the rest of us—he was more business-like. Maybe that’s why the old pirate sailor picked him out to give him the map of the treasure.
“But after we’d located it and got it out—and a precious hard time we had of it to do it in secret so as not to let the natives and some of the worse whites on the island know about it—after that Hank talked to us.
“He reminded us what sailors were like—free spenders when they had anything—saving nothing against a rainy day, and he persuaded us to let him take charge of most of the money—that is the biggest parts of our three shares. He said he’d put it in a safe place and pay it out to us as we needed it. He first divided it all up fair and square—a quarter of the lot to each man—and then asked us to let him handle all of ours but a few thousands we wanted to spend right away.”
“Did you agree to that?” asked Bob, who, with his chums, was eagerly interested in the tale.
“Yes, we did. We knew Hank had a better head than the rest of us, so we turned our shares over to him.”
“And buried it back on that island?” asked Harry.
“Oh, no, we brought it away with us. That island was too far away and too hard to get at to leave any gold there. Hank said there was just as good hiding places in the town where he lived.”
“You mean here in Cliffside?” cried Ned.
“Cliffside’s the place!” announced Jolly Bill Hickey. “Hank said he could hide the money where nobody would ever find it without a map, and that’s just what he’s done. And now he’s dead and the map is in that brass-bound box and who’s got the box I don’t know! It’s fair maddening—that’s what it is!”
Jolly Bill seemed anything but like his name then.
“But say—look here!” exclaimed Ned. “Do you mean to say that after Mr. Denby got you three to intrust the most of your shares to him, that he wouldn’t give them back to you?”
“That’s what he did!” exclaimed Jolly Bill. “Not but what he had a right to under the circumstances. I’ll say that for him.”
“What circumstances?” asked Bob.
“Well, we acted foolish,” confessed the one-legged sailor, as if somewhat ashamed of himself. “At least Rod and I did, but I was led into it by that skunk. After we three had spent most of the first lot we took out of the treasure, Rod proposed that he and I and Hiram rob old Hank of all that was left—take Hank’s share as well as our own.
“I fell in with the scheme, when Rod told me that Hiram was in it also, but I’ve found out since that this was a lie. Hiram wouldn’t do it. And I wouldn’t have gone into it with Rod except that he had me fozzled with strong drink. That cured me—I never touched another drop since. It was how I lost my leg.”
The story was rapidly approaching a dramatic climax, and seeing a quiet place beside the road. Bob drew the car in there and stopped it.
“That’s better,” commented Jolly Bill. “I can talk better when I’m not so rattled about. To make a long story short, I believed what that rat Rod told me—that he and I and Hiram, together, could steal the map of the new place where the treasure was hid, and take it from Hank. Hank had made a lot of money with his first share—he was getting to be fair rich, and we’d spent ours—that is Rod and I had, though I found out that Hiram had done almost as well as Hank had. He had some money put away for a rainy day.
“Well, one night we carried out the plans. It was dark and stormy and Rod and I were to meet at a certain place, get into Hank’s house on pretense of wanting to ask for more of our shares, and then we were to attack him and get the map. I wondered why Hiram wasn’t with us, but Rod said he’d meet us at Hank’s house.
“I found out since that Rod tried to get Hiram in on the wicked scheme, but Hiram wouldn’t come, and threatened to tell Hank. However, it was too late for that. Rod and I went at it alone, but Hank showed fight. I got a bullet in my leg and had to have it taken off. Rod ran and I haven’t seen him since. Hiram wasn’t in on the mean trick, as I realize now it was, and I was laid up!
“That ended the attempt to get more than our share away from Hank, and, not only that, but we had forfeited our right to any more of the treasure.”
“How was that?” asked Ned.
“Well, we agreed when the first division was made, and Hank had been made banker, so to speak, that if any one of us tried to trick, or over-reach, the other, he would lose his rights to any further share in the remainder of the gold. As we all signed a paper to this effect—signed it in blood, too, for we had our superstitions—as we’d all signed, that was all there was to it. Rod and I were out of it. The rest of the gold went to Hank and Hiram.”
“And Mr. Denby is dead,” remarked Bob.
“Yes, but he and Hiram remained friends to the last on account of what had happened—Hiram not going into the rotten trick. And in the course of events Hank left his share—and there was more than when he started with it—he left it all to Hiram. Not only that, but he left our two shares also—Rod’s and mine—as he had a right to do.”
“How do you know all this?” asked Harry.
“I got a letter from a lawyer here in town, telling me about that,” said Jolly Bill, now quite serious. “This lawyer—Judge Weston is his name—said Hank had left a will, and some instructions—and the instructions were for this lawyer to write to us after Hank’s death, telling how everything went to Hiram, under the rules we had all agreed to.
“So Hiram got the brass-bound box, in which Hank kept the map, showing where the treasure is still buried. For you must know, boys, that Hank, like the rest of us, was a bit afraid of banks. He kept most of the money hid and it’s hid yet. The map’s the only thing to tell where it is. Not even the lawyer knows, he wrote me.”
“And did he write the same news to Rodney Marbury?” asked Bob.
“I suppose he did—that was the agreement—the first one to die was to let the others know, writing to the last address he had. So I s’pose Rod knows how his trick didn’t do him any good, nor me neither. We were both bilked out of our shares, but we had a right to be. It served us good and proper.
“However, I made some money in another way—not much—but enough to exist on—and when I heard Hank was dead I came on to see my old messmate Hiram. And I got here just too late.”
“Yes,” agreed Bob, “some one got the treasure map and they may have the treasure by this time.”
“It’s likely,” agreed Jolly Bill with a sigh. “But it can’t be helped. But I think I know who robbed Hiram.”
“I guess we can make a pretty good stab at it,” said Bob. “If what Mr. Beegle thinks is true, it must be this same Rodney Marbury.”
“Correct, my lad. And you said he waylaid him on the way home from the lawyer’s office?” asked Bill.
“That’s what he thinks,” stated Bob. “I found him unconscious beside the road, but he then had the box.”
“Which he hasn’t now,” added Bill “Well, I s’pose it’s all up. Rod will get the treasure after all.”
“Maybe not,” spoke Bob quietly.
“What do you mean?” asked the wooden-legged man.
“I mean that he’ll be trailed,” said the lad. “The police of this and other towns will get after him.”
“A lot of good that will do!” laughed Harry. “The police—whoop!”
“Well, then, I’ll take a hand myself!” declared Bob.
“Now you’re talking!” cried Ned. “Detective Bob Dexter on the trail! Hurray!”
“Cut it out!” said his chum in a low voice. “There’s that hand organ grinder again!”
And, as he spoke the man with the monkey and wheezy music box came tramping along the road.