Ned Wilding's Disappearance: or, The Darewell Chums in the City

“Oh! It certainly is!” cried Jennie as she stepped from the doorway. “I’m being blown away.”

The wind had caught her long cloak and whipped it up around her shoulders so that it acted like a sail. Jennie was being fairly carried along the street.

“There’s your chance, Fenn!” cried Frank. “Rescue a maiden in distress.”

Fenn did not stop to reply to his tormenter but caught Jennie by the arm and helped her to straighten her garment.

“Noble youth!” exclaimed Bart. “You shall be suitably rewarded.”

They all laughed, rather hysterically, it is true, at the nonsense talk, but it was a relief to their over-strained nerves for the shock of the accident had been a severe one.

They passed along and, as they got beyond the shelter of the school the full force of the wind was felt. It was almost a hurricane, and it was all they could do to walk along.

“No wonder it blew the tower down,” observed Ned. “Let’s take a look at the wreck.”

They walked around to the other side of the school. There, prone on the ground, though but a confused mass of bricks and mortar, was what had been the tower.

“There’s the clock!” exclaimed Frank, as he saw the dial of the timepiece some distance from the big mass of masonry. “See, it stopped just at ten.”

There were four dials to the clock, one for each side of the tower. The dials were of sheet iron with big gilt hands which were worked simultaneously by the one set of wheels and springs. This dial, to which Frank called attention, had fallen from its place, with the hands still attached to it, the rods to which they were fastened, and which served to turn them, having been cut off close to the back of the face.

“I’m going to take it home for a souvenir,” Frank said. “If they want it back they can have it.”

He picked up the dial, which was painted white with black numerals on it. As he did so he uttered an exclamation.

“What’s the matter?” asked Ned.

“It’s all mud, or something black,” Frank replied. “I’ve got it all over my hands.”

“Better let it alone,” advised Bart. “The wind will blow it away, and you with it, if you try to carry it.”

“I guess I can manage,” Frank responded, and though the gale did get a good purchase on the flat surface of the dial which was two feet in diameter, Frank clung to it and took it home with him.

“See you to-morrow!” called Fenn to Frank, as the latter turned off on a street that led to his uncle’s house. The others went in the opposite direction.

“We’ll come and take a look at the ruins by daylight,” suggested Frank. “Good-night.”

“Good-night,” called his chums, and the girls.

“Queer sort of a relic he’s got,” observed Bart.

“It’s just like him,” Ned rejoined. “Frank’s a queer chap anyhow.”

“I think he’s nice,” remarked Alice.

“So do I,” chimed in Jennie.

“Who said he wasn’t?” demanded Bart. “Can’t a fellow make a remark about his chum without being found fault with?”

“I don’t think it’s nice to say he’s queer,” Alice said.

“Why he admits it himself,” her brother put in. “He doesn’t care what we say about him. We call him queer about twice a week; don’t we fellows.”

“Sure,” replied Ned, coming to his chum’s support.

“Well, never mind,” Alice rejoined. “Let’s hurry home or we’ll be blown into the next county.”

It was such a cold blustery night, with the wind seeming to increase in violence rather than diminish, that all were glad when they reached their houses.

“It’s a pretty fierce gale,” remarked Mr. Keene, when his son and daughter had told him what had happened, “but I wouldn’t think it was strong enough to blow the tower down. Must have been weak somewhere.”

“The janitor said some of the chimneys needed new mortar in the cracks, and maybe the tower did also,” Bart said.

“I suppose the school authorities will investigate and see what caused it to fall,” his father went on. “It was a dangerous thing to let such a weak tower stay up.”

Bart stopped at Ned’s house the next morning to call for him, and then they intended to get Frank and Fenn to go together and take a look at the tower.

“Come on in,” Ned invited his chum at the door. “I’ve got a letter.”

“Who from?”

“My aunt, Mrs. Paul Kenfield, of New York. She wants me to come down for a week or two. You know, she wrote me some time ago inviting me for next summer. Now she says she wants me to come right away, and to bring you three fellows. I wrote her, after I got the first invitation that I’d like to take my chums with me.”

“That’s very kind of you,” replied Bart. “I guess I can go. When are you going to start?”

“Monday.”

“That will give you a week there. I don’t believe I could get ready so soon. I’ve got to help dad Monday.”

“Then you and the other boys could come afterward. Say on Tuesday or Wednesday,” suggested Ned.

“I’ll think about it,” his chum replied. “But come on, let’s go take a look at the fallen tower.”

CHAPTER XII

NED STARTS OFF

Ned and Bart went to Fenn’s house, where they found Frank. The two were just on the point of starting out.

“Did you get your relic home safe?” asked Bart of Frank.

“You mean the clock dial? I did, though I thought at one time the wind would blow it away. I got that black stuff whatever it was on it, all over my clothes.”

“Was it paint?” asked Ned.

“No, seemed like some kind of smoke. I had hard work to get it off my hands.”

“Come on!” called Fenn. “There are crowds going to see the tower.”

“Well, what of it?” asked Ned. “They can’t carry it away; can they?”

“No,” replied Fenn, “but they’ll all get around it and we can’t see anything.”

“Oh we’ll get you a pair of opera glasses,” rejoined Frank.

“I guess you’re all just as anxious to see it as I am,” said Stumpy. “Come on.”

A fine, calm day, though cold, had succeeded the blustery one. As Fenn had said, the streets were filled with a large throng hastening to see the wreck of the tower. The falling of it had created more excitement than had been known in Darewell for some years.

“Say, you fellows are all right,” called Jim Nelson, as the four chums passed him. “That was a fine yell you gave. I’d a joined in, only – ”

“Too much work, eh?” asked Frank, for Jim had the reputation, not altogether undeserved, of being the laziest boy in town.

“No, it wasn’t that exactly,” Jim replied, “but I couldn’t remember the words.”

“Why didn’t you come in on the tune?” asked Ned.

“Um,” was all Jim said. It was his usual reply when he did not want to take the trouble to answer in words. “Say,” he called a moment later, as the chums kept on, “are you going to the tower?”

“Yes; are you?” inquired Fenn.

“I was, but if you’re going that way would you do me a favor?”

“What is it?” asked Ned.

“Stop on your way back and tell me how it looks. No use of me going if you are. I’ll wait in the drug store here for you,” and Jim turned into the “Emporium.”

“We may not be back until late this afternoon,” Fenn said.

“That’s all right, I’m in no hurry. I can wait here as well as anywhere else,” and Jim went into the store and took a seat on one of the stools at the soda fountain, from whence he could look out of the window.

“Well, if that isn’t the limit!” exclaimed Ned.

“It’s a wonder he didn’t ask us to bring the tower around for him to look at,” said Bart.

“He would, only he was too lazy to think of it,” remarked Frank.

The boys found quite a crowd around the fallen mass of bricks, and many were the comments on the accident.

“Let’s go up and take a look at where the roof was broken through,” suggested Ned.

The chums started to enter the school intending to go to the auditorium, but, as they reached the stairs, for the building was open, they were met by Mr. Williamson, president of the Board of Education.

“You can’t go in, boys,” he said pleasantly enough.

“Is it dangerous?” asked Ned.

“Well, that’s what we’re trying to find out. We have some workmen looking over the ruins to see what repairs we will have to make. There’s quite a hole in the roof.”

“Will it interfere with the opening of school next week?” asked Bart.

“Do you wish it would?” asked Mr. Williamson.

The boys laughed, for the president had read their thoughts.

“We hope not,” Mr. Williamson went on. “By the way, you boys know almost everything that goes on in Darewell? Did you happen to hear of any one carrying off one of the clock dials? We can only find three in the ruins, and there were four.”

“I took one home with me last night,” said Frank promptly. “I wanted it for a relic. I hope there was no harm in that.”

“None in the world, if you still have it,” said Mr. Williamson. “You see we are trying to find out just what caused the tower to be blown down by the wind, and we want all the evidence we can get. Just keep the dial safely and, the next time you come up toward my store, leave it for me. You may have it back again after we are through with it, for we’ll have to have a whole new clock I expect.”

“Wonder what he expects to find from the clock face?” asked Ned, as the boys went back on the campus to get another look at the fallen tower.

“Probably wants to look into its open countenance and ask questions about how it feels to be blown down,” Bart replied.

“I hadn’t any idea they’d want that piece of the clock, or I’d never have taken it,” said Frank. “Lucky I saved it, or someone else might have carried it off and they’d never get it again.”

They took another look at the tower, though there was little they had not already seen, and then on Stumpy’s invitation to have some hot chocolate they strolled back to the “Emporium.” They found Jim still there, but he seemed to have fallen asleep.

“Put some chocolate near him, and see if he wakes up,” suggested Ned in a whisper.

The clerk, at the boys’ request, placed a glass of the steaming liquid close to Jim’s hand as it rested on the marble counter. Jim opened his eyes, looked at the beverage, glanced at the four chums waiting expectantly and then – closed his eyes again without reaching for the chocolate.

“He’s lost his chance,” Fenn said. “I’ll drink it myself.”

He did so, and, as the boys were leaving, Jim appeared to rouse from his slumber. He seemed to remember the chocolate, for he put out his hand as if to grasp it. His fingers closed on the empty air.

“Did I drink it?” he asked of the chums, who stood laughing at him.

“Must have,” replied Ned.

“I don’t remember,” Jim said, in puzzled tones. “But it’s all right. I’m sleepy to-day. Is the tower still – ?” Then the exertion of talking seemed to be too much for him, and he closed his eyes again.

“Come on,” said Ned. “I’ve got to get home and make arrangements for my New York trip.”

“Oh, yes, and I must find out when I can go,” Bart added. “We can have jolly sport there, fellows.”

There were several family councils that night. Ned’s plans were all made, and he had but to pack his trunk, ready to leave on the following Monday morning. The other chums, though, had to consult their relatives. It was inconvenient for some to let the boys go Tuesday, and Thursday did not suit any better. Finally a compromise was made and Wednesday, following the Monday on which Ned was to start, was fixed on.

Then came an announcement which changed the plans of the boys to some extent. Late Saturday afternoon it was stated that the damage to the school had been greater than was at first supposed. It would be impossible to make repairs so that classes might assemble the second week in January, and the institution was to close for a month. Not until February first, President Williamson stated, would the school open again.

“Say, this will just suit us!” cried Ned as he and his chums discussed the news that night. “We can stay so much longer. I know my aunt will be glad to see us, and the longer vacation we have the better she will like it. She’s fond of boys. All hers are grown up. She said I was to come and stay a month if I wanted to.”

“Fine!” exclaimed Bart. “I’ll have to pack a few more clothes in my trunk if we are to be gone longer than we first calculated.”

“So will I,” cried Fenn.

“Then it’s all settled,” said Ned. “I’ll go Monday and you follow Wednesday. You can find your way to the house I guess. It’s on West Forty-fourth street. Here’s the number. I’ll be there to welcome you. Won’t we have fun though! I’ve never been in New York.”

The others had not either, and they spent some time discussing the pleasant prospects ahead of them.

Monday morning they all went down to the depot to see Ned off.

“Good-bye until Wednesday,” he called to his chums as they stood on the platform waving their hands to him. “I’ll meet you in New York sure.”

But it was a long time before Ned kept his promise.

CHAPTER XIII

STARTLING NEWS

The issue of the Darewell Advertiser that Monday afternoon contained some startling information. The three chums were standing in front of the drug store talking of their prospective trip when a newsboy ran past calling:

“Extra! Extra! Full account of the blowing up of the school tower with dynamite!”

“What’s that he’s yelling?” asked Bart.

“He said something about the school tower and dynamite,” replied Fenn. “Trying to sell his papers I guess.”

“Let’s get one and see if it’s a fake,” suggested Frank.

“Here boy! Give me one!” cried Bart, and the lad handed him a sheet, damp with paste from the press.

Staring at the three chums in big black letters was the heading:

SCHOOL TOWER DYNAMITED!Not Blown Down by Gale of Wind as FirstSupposedBELIEVED TO BE BOYS’ WORK!Investigation Has Been Ordered by PresidentWilliamson of the Board of EducationFOUR LADS SUSPECTED!

“Well, what do you think of that!” exclaimed Bart when he had finished reading the head-lines. “Isn’t that the limit?”

“Limit! It’s the strangest thing I ever heard of,” cried Frank.

“Somebody has been stuffing the reporter,” suggested Fenn. “Let’s read the rest of it.”

Looking over Bart’s shoulders the two other lads read the account. It told in vivid language how the fact was discovered that the tower had been blown down by an explosive. Those nearest the tower when the crash came told of hearing a dull boom, that was not caused by the wind. Then came the sound as the bricks fell through the corner of the roof of the auditorium.

“But if other evidence was wanting,” the article went on, “it is easily found in the dials of the clock that was in the tower. The white faces bear the black marks of powder and an analysis which has been made shows the stains to have been caused by some powerful explosive, the exact nature of which is being kept secret by the authorities.

“It is understood from a reliable source, however, that dynamite was used, a small quantity being placed in the top of the tower. It is said that part of a dynamite cartridge has been found but this is denied by the police.

“That the work was that of mischievous boys, who, possibly did not appreciate the seriousness of their deed, is the opinion of the school authorities. This is borne out by the fact that a boy confessed to having carried off one of the powder-marked dials of the clock. Why he did this has not been disclosed, but Mr. Williamson has secured an admission from him that he did take the dial from the debris of the wrecked tower. This dial the president of the board has secured, together with the other three.

“It is alleged that four boys, who are often seen in each others’ company, and who have, before this, taken part in more or less harmless tricks, are suspected of blowing down the tower. One of them, it can be asserted on the highest authority, had the clock dial. An investigation has been started by the school authorities, and the four boys in question, including the one who took the dial from the wreckage, will be called on to tell what they know. If the evidence, after a thorough sifting, points to them, it is understood that criminal action will be taken.”

“Did you ever hear the like?” cried Fenn.

“Wait, here’s something more,” said Bart. He pointed to a few lines of type at the bottom of the article. They read:

“Just as we are going to press we learn that one of the four suspected lads has hurriedly left town.”

“Come on!” cried Bart. “I’m going to make him take that back.”

“Make who take what back?” asked Frank.

“Why the editor of this paper. Can’t you see who he’s referring to in that last line? He means Ned! He means that Ned’s run away for fear he’ll be arrested! He means us when he says ‘four boys often seen in each others’ company!’ He’s accusing the Darewell Chums of blowing up the tower! Come on, we’ll make him deny this if he has to get out an extra!”

“Go slow,” advised Frank.

“Go slow! Yes, that’s always your way! Wait and let him say all he wants to about us! I guess not!”

“I say we’d better wait,” Frank went on quietly. “Of course you know, and I know, none of us had anything to do with the blowing up of the tower. I don’t believe it was blown up. I believe the wind did it, and some one has imagined all this and given the reporter a story of what he thinks is the truth. At the same time the school authorities may be going to have an investigation. It’s their privilege. Now if we go to the editor’s office and raise a row folks at once will jump to the conclusion that we had some hand in the explosion. Besides, it doesn’t say we are suspected.”

“It as good as says so,” Bart exclaimed. “Everyone will know they mean us.”

“At the same time the article doesn’t say so. That editor is cute enough for that. He doesn’t want a libel suit on his hands.”

“It might as well call us by the names,” Bart insisted. “Besides, that refers to Ned as plain as can be, and he isn’t here to defend himself. It’s our duty to go.”

“I tell you you’ll only make things worse if you go to the office of the paper,” Frank insisted. “The editor will ask you if you think the article refers to you. You’ll say it does, and he’ll say, in effect, ‘if the shoe fits put it on.’ These newspaper men are no fools. They have some basis for what they write. Besides, you know I did take the dial.”

“So you did,” said Fenn.

“Did you give it back to Mr. Williamson?” asked Bart.

“Yes, I took it to the store as he asked me to.”

“But you didn’t make any admissions, did you?”

“How could I? There were none to make. You were with me when he asked me about the clock face and you heard all I said. When I left the dial in the store he was not there. I haven’t seen him since. The reporter is drawing on his imagination I guess for considerable of this.”

“I wonder if they are going to have an investigation?” said Bart.

“Let’s go and see Mr. Williamson,” suggested Fenn. “We can show him the article and he can tell us what to do. I think that’s the best plan.”

The other two chums agreed to this, and, each one having purchased a paper containing the startling news, they went to the hardware store of the president of the Board of Education.

Mr. Williamson was talking to some other members of the board, in his private office, when the boys entered the store. They sent word they wanted to see him, and in a little while, his visitors having gone, the president invited the chums in.

“Well, boys,” he began, “what can I do for you?”

“This article,” began Bart. “It seems to – ”

“I have read it,” Mr. Williamson interrupted.

“Do you suspect us?” demanded Bart.

“That is hardly a fair question,” Mr. Williamson replied. “I shall probably be called upon to preside at the investigation and I can not discuss the case in advance of the hearing. I will say this however: We believe some boy or boys blew up the tower, little thinking of the terrible danger to which he subjected the entire school and that audience. We have no direct evidence, as yet, but we expect to get some. I may add that a hearing will be held to-night, and I would like you boys to be there. I understand Ned Wilding has gone to New York.”

“He went this morning,” replied Bart, “but he had planned to go long before this thing happened. We are going to join him Wednesday.”

“Indeed?” and Mr. Williamson looked a little surprised.

“What time is the hearing?” asked Fenn.

“At eight o’clock, in my office here.”

“We’ll be on hand,” spoke Bart.

All the members of the Board of Education, the school janitor, the chief of police, a detective, the fathers of Bart and Fenn, and Frank’s uncle were at the hearing. There was much testimony in an informal way, to the effect that the tower was wrecked by an explosion and not by the wind. So much was easily proved.

The next thing was to discover who had done the deed. The janitor said he had seen a boy hanging around the tower just before the entertainment began, but he could not give a good description. It might fit half the boys in Darewell.

There was no direct evidence against the chums. Bart had bought some powder in Mr. Williamson’s store a few days before the explosion, but he testified it was for his gun, which evidence was corroborated by Mr. Keene. The taking away of the clock dial by Frank was dwelt upon, and there seemed a disposition to make much of it, but the boy’s uncle bore out Frank’s statement that the dial had been placed among a lot of other relics and ornaments in his nephew’s room, and was not hidden away as though Frank wished to conceal any evidence. Ned’s sudden trip was explained, though it was manifest that some of the school commissioners looked with disfavor on it.

The affair ended, as far as the four chums were concerned, in a sort of Scotch verdict of “not proven.”

“Does that end this inquiry?” asked Mr. Keene.

“For the time being,” replied Mr. Williamson.

“Then I demand that this committee issue a statement that there is not the slightest evidence against my son and his chums.”

“We will do nothing of the sort!” exclaimed Mr. Williamson.

“Then I shall take legal steps to compel you to.”

“And I will join you,” declared Mr. Masterson.

“This investigation will be continued later,” Mr. Williamson went on. “We have not finished. We are going to have some expert detectives here. Then perhaps we shall discover who perpetrated this outrage.”

“You may rest assured it was none of these boys,” said Mr. Dent. “I know my nephew and I know his chums too well even to suspect them.”

“That is all at present,” the president of the board remarked. “The meeting is adjourned.”

“But it leaves these boys under a cloud,” objected Mr. Keene.

“I am sorry but that cannot be helped,” was Mr. Williamson’s reply.

CHAPTER XIV

NED’S BUSINESS VENTURE

Meanwhile Ned Wilding was speeding on the fast train toward New York. The first part of the journey was no novelty to him, as he had been over that part of the line before. Soon, however, he noticed a change in the scenery and was kept busy watching the landscape as it seemed to fly past the windows.

“I wonder if I’ll have time to attend to that little matter of business before I go to Uncle Kenfield’s house,” said Ned to himself as he leaned back in his seat and pulled a bundle of papers from his pocket. “Let’s see what the address is.”

Ned began to turn over the pages of a booklet which he selected from among his bundle of documents.

“Skem & Skim, 111 Broadway,” he read. “I’ll just drop down there before I go to uncle’s house and buy my stock. Just think of me being a stockholder in the Mt. Olive Oil Well Corporation, Limited. Capital ten million dollars, surplus and undivided profits five millions. It must be a great concern.”

Ned gave himself up to pleasant thoughts and looked out of the window. Perhaps he saw himself a millionaire riding in his private car. For Ned was going to do some business on his own account – the first he had ever done.

When he learned that he was to visit his aunt and uncle in New York he decided to put into operation a plan he had long had in mind; ever since, in fact, he got the thousand dollars damages which were paid to him and his chums by Mr. Ricka, as told in the first volume of this “Darewell Chums Series.”

Mr. Wilding, after much solicitation on Ned’s part, had allowed his son to take one hundred dollars of the money to invest in any way he saw fit, subject to certain restrictions.