The Blue Herring Mystery (14 page)

“Good night!” they called and hurried out of the store.

Just as they were going down the two steps to the sidewalk an old sedan pulled up at the curb and Professor Kloop opened the door and stepped out.

“Hey, boys,” he said. “Come on back in the store and I’ll blow you to a drink or a sundae.”

“Oh, golly, we couldn’t, Professor Kloop,” Djuna said. “We have to be out at Edenboro and in bed at nine o’clock. And, besides, we just had a sundae. Thanks, just the same.”

“Sorry you won’t join me,” Professor Kloop said. He stood there watching them while they each switched on their single headlights and mounted their bikes at the curb.

“See you up at the Kill tomorrow,” he called as they pedaled east, toward Edenboro. And Djuna, glancing back, saw that he was still standing there watching them when they were a full block away.

“Jeepers!” said Bobby when they were pedaling along steadily, side by side. “Did you see the way Doc Perry acted when I said there was going to be another crook in jail within a day or two?”

“Yes, I certainly did!” Djuna said, and he laughed. “I thought he was going to have what Miss Annie calls a seizure, or something.”

“Do you think it was because
he’s
a crook?” Bobby asked, excitement in his voice.

“No,” Djuna said with conviction. “I think he’s just kind of nervous and a little bats.”

“He’s pretty dumb, too,” said Bobby. “He kind of reminds me of someone who is trying to go in three or four directions at once.”

Djuna laughed again. “That sounds like him.”

They rode along in silence for a few moments listening to the staccato peep of the “peepers” in the marshes on each side of them and the deep ghostly “
THRU-U-UMP
!
THRU-U-UMP
!” of bullfrogs. From the north came the dim rumble of the high waters of Miller’s Brook as it cascaded over the waterfall at Buttermilk Falls and they were both thinking how nice it would be to get to bed — when the headlights of an onrushing car picked them up from behind.

When the lights picked them up in bold silhouette, Djuna dropped back behind Bobby in single file. They were riding on the extreme right-hand side of the macadam road. At the edge of the black macadam there was a dirt shoulder about three feet wide, ending at a tiny rivulet that gurgled beside it.

There was plenty of room for the car behind them to pass on their left as it bore down on them at fifty miles an hour. But Djuna, feeling that the lights were not focused to their left, glanced hastily over his shoulder.

He saw that the car was only sixty or seventy feet behind them, on the extreme right-hand side of the macadam, and was coming after them like an express train!

“Get off the road, Bobby!” He screamed as loudly as he could, and wrenched his bicycle to the right. He shot into the little ditch and went over the handlebars.

He had seen the fright on Bobby’s face as Bobby threw a swift glance over his shoulder and followed Djuna’s example. The car’s fenders missed Bobby by a fraction of an inch as his wheels struck the soft shoulder. And then he went into the ditch and over the handlebars.

The breath had been driven out of both of them. They lay sucking air into their tortured lungs. The red taillights of the would-be murder car disappeared in the distance.

“Hey, Djuna! Are you all right?” Bobby finally managed to gasp.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Djuna managed to gasp back. Their single headlights were still burning and after a few more minutes Djuna was able to struggle to his feet, get his bike, and turn it around so that its light shone on the still prostrate form of Bobby.

“You’re sure
you’re
all right?” asked Djuna anxiously.

“I — I guess so,” said Bobby, “but I’m almost scared to death. What was the matter with that driver? Do you suppose he was drunk?”

“No,” Djuna said, and he shivered. “He was over on the right-hand side of the road where he couldn’t help seeing us. He was
trying
to hit us.”

“Trying to hit us!”
Bobby gasped. “What for? What have
we
done? Did you get a look at the car? Or the number?”

“I was a little too busy to get any numbers,” Djuna said, and when Bobby snickered Djuna snickered with him. “But it was that same car Professor Kloop drove out to Aunt Candy’s yesterday morning. I’m certain of that.”

“Then it’s the same one he drove up in front of the drugstore just fifteen or twenty minutes ago!” Bobby exclaimed. “Professor Kloop must have been driving it!”

“I think he was,” Djuna said as calmly as he could. “I didn’t see him, I couldn’t see who was driving, but it was certainly the same car.”

“My gosh,” Bobby said with an awed voice as he rolled over and gingerly got to his feet, “he tried to
murder
us.”

“I guess that’s what you’d call it,” Djuna said. “And he almost did. He would have, if I hadn’t noticed that his headlights were right behind us, instead of over on the left-hand side of the road.”

“What are we going to do about it?” Bobby asked. His voice trembled a little. “Hadn’t we ought to go and tell the police?”

“There’s only one policeman in Brookville,” Djuna said, “and Socker Furlong says he’s a big, dumb fathead. I guess he is, from the way he acts. He’s proba’ly in bed now. If we woke him up he’d just be mad and wouldn’t pay any attention to us. Besides, we ought to think it over before we do anything.”

They both pulled their bikes out of the ditch and began to flex their fingers and toes and stretch their arms and legs to see if anything was the matter with them.

“I’ve got a sore shoulder where I landed!” Djuna said.

“An’ I got a skinned nose, where
I
landed!” Bobby said. Djuna looked at him and although his nose was only skinned a little the rest of his face was almost black with mud.

Djuna couldn’t help laughing, and in another moment they were both laughing uproariously, which was probably just as well, because it relieved some of their tension.

After they had stopped laughing they examined their bikes. But the bikes seemed to be all right, so they mounted and started toward Edenboro again.

“No,” Djuna said when they were riding side by side on the macadam. “We won’t tell anyone about it, yet. Socker will be here tomorrow. We’ll tell
him
and ask
him
what to do.”

“But suppose Kloop comes after us again?” Bobby asked, and there was anxiety in his voice.

“I don’t think he will, right away,” Djuna said, logically enough. “We’ll be safe at Miss Annie’s tonight. Then, tomorrow, we’ll be with a lot of people at the scapping place, so he wouldn’t dare try to do anything there. And besides, Socker will be here tomorrow.
He’ll
know what we ought to do.”

“But suppose he finds out, someway, that we’re going to go over that dirt road to the scapping place tomorrow,” Bobby said. “He might try it then! It sounds like an awful lonesome road to me.”

“The Mill Road,” Djuna said thoughtfully. “Nobody but Mr. Boots knows we’re going that way and he wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“Sure,” Bobby said, and for a moment they were silent with their own thoughts. Then Bobby asked, “Do you really think it was Professor Kloop, Djuna? He — he is a kind of funny-acting guy, but he didn’t act like a man who would try to kill anybody!”

Through Djuna’s active mind marched the forms and faces of a half dozen pleasant-looking and pleasant-acting men who had never looked as though they would try to kill anyone. But they had, and sometimes the least likely “suspect” had been the most dangerous!

“Yes, I do think it was Kloop,” Djuna said slowly. “But I don’t see how he found out that I think I know where Captain Jonas Beekman hid his pearls.”

“You
what?
” Bobby gasped, and then he almost whispered, “Do you know where they are?
Honest?
”

“I think I do,” Djuna said. “And Kloop must know, too, or he wouldn’t try to kill us to get us out of the way!”

“You said this morning it would be too dangerous for me to know what you found out in the library,” Bobby said. “But
now
you can tell me, because Professor Kloop must think
I
know about the pearls, or he wouldn’t have tried to kill me, too.”

“He might not have intended to hit you,” Djuna said. “He might have meant to swerve after he hit me. I’ve told you that I
think
I know where the pearls are, but I won’t tell you
where
, because I still think it’s too dangerous.”

“Well, if Kloop knows, why doesn’t he take ’em and get out, if that’s what he’s been looking for?” Bobby asked.

“Golly, I don’t know why he doesn’t,” Djuna groaned. “In fact, this whole thing is awfully mixed up in my mind.”

“Then why don’t
we
go and get them if you know where they are?” Bobby asked breathlessly.

“Because we’d both proba’ly get killed trying,” Djuna said grimly as they drew up in front of Miss Annie’s house and dismounted.

They pushed their bikes across Miss Annie’s front lawn and carefully put them away in the woodshed where Miss Annie was least apt to see them.

“Follow me,” Djuna whispered, “and maybe we can get up to our room without Miss Annie seeing us.”

“Okay,” said Bobby.

There was no light in the kitchen and Djuna ignored the switch. He saw Miss Annie sitting beside a table lamp in the parlor and called, “We’re bushed, Miss Annie, and we’re going right to bed!” as he moved toward the stairway.

“For land’s sake!” Miss Annie called back. “You’re fifteen minutes ahead of time. You must be tired.”

“Golly, we are!” said Bobby as he followed Djuna. “Good night,” he added.

“Good night, boys. Sleep tight. Tomorrow’s Scapping Day!” Miss Annie called.

“Good night, Miss Annie!” they said in chorus.

When they had scraped the mud off themselves they got into pajamas and climbed wearily into bed. And almost as soon as their heads hit the pillows they fell into a heavy, nervous slumber that was full of groans and whimpers. They were reliving the evening’s near-tragedy in their sleep.

I
T WAS
ten o’clock before Djuna and Bobby bounced into Miss Annie’s kitchen for breakfast the next morning and their eyes were still full of sleep.

“Good morning, Miss Annie!” they said in unison, and Djuna asked, “Jeepers, why didn’t you call us? We —”

“Because I knew that if you didn’t wake up you needed the sleep,” Miss Annie said tartly. “Mr. Boots dropped in about an hour ago and he said nothing much would happen at the scapping grounds before three or four o’clock this afternoon. I’ve fixed some sandwiches and deviled eggs an’ things for your lunch, and Mr. Boots said he would pick up the fried chicken I’ve fixed for your supper and bring it to you the middle of the afternoon.”

“Fried chicken!” Bobby said. “Hot ziggity!”

“Now sit down and eat your pancakes, and don’t gobble them!” Miss Annie said. “You’ve got all day.” She peered more closely at Bobby and said, “What in the world did you do to your nose?”

“Fell off my bike and skinned it,” Bobby said, touching his nose tenderly. “It’s nothing.”

“Now, you boys be careful today!” Miss Annie said. “I don’t want anything to happen.”

“Oh, sure!” they both mumbled, with their mouths full.

It was nearly twelve o’clock before they had finished breakfast, done a few chores for Miss Annie, cleaned up their bikes, and were on their way to the Old Mill Road.

It was another preview for a June day, with the sun hanging high overhead in a sky of dazzling blue. Tufts of cumulus clouds floated like great fluffs of cotton on the horizon. The beauty and perfection of the day made the awful thing that had happened the night before almost impossible to believe. They had avoided speaking about it all morning, for fear Miss Annie might overhear them, and they still avoided it as they pedaled across the little bridge over Miller’s Brook.

“Golly, it doesn’t seem possible that this little creek is part of those roaring rapids down by the scapping place,” Djuna said as they crossed it.

“I didn’t know that,” said Bobby.

“I guess I forgot to tell you,” Djuna said. Then he said suddenly, “That was awful last night, wasn’t it?”

Bobby shuddered and closed his eyes for an instant. “I hope I don’t look scared if we see Professor Kloop.”

“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” Djuna said. “There will be lots of people around. He wouldn’t dare do anything. And Socker ought to be there almost as soon as we are.”

“Jeepers, I know it,” Bobby said, “but it still makes me shiver every time I think of how close he came to hitting us!”

“Me, too!” said Djuna.

They took the left turn onto the Old Mill Road, which was lined on each side with towering pines that whispered in the gentle breeze. The sun that had been playing so warmly on their backs was gone now and there were only fitful, dancing gleams from it on the road. They rode along in silence and after a bit they could hear the pounding roar of Miller’s Brook as it dropped over Buttermilk Falls, on its way to join the Sepasco Kill.

“Golly, it’s kind of spooky in here, isn’t it?” Bobby said with a voice that trembled a trifle. Without realizing it he began to pedal faster and Djuna did the same thing to keep up with him.

Then they came out into the bright sunlight again, high on the cliff above the Kill and the bridge that spanned it on the Federal Highway. They wheeled their bikes across the bridge on the sidewalk and in another few minutes were coasting eagerly down the dirt road and through the gate that led to the scappers’ car-parking grounds.

Above the roar of the rapids in the Kill the stirring strains of martial music came wafting through the trees. Wide smiles spread across the faces, they pedaled a little faster, and the horror of the night before was entirely erased from their minds.

There were two dozen cars already parked side by side outside the circular road that surrounded the parking place. The boys parked their bikes beside them and started running toward the red, white, and blue bunting that was stretched from one tree to another, above the steep path that led down to the pebbled beach.