CHAPTER XX

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BUSTED!

Bi broke the silence. "I'm getting mad," he said. "It's almost as though somebody was trying to keep us from playing that Belden game. Well, I'm going to Belden, even if I have to walk."

"Walking is cheap, anyhow," sympathized Specs. "By the way, Mr. Gillen, don't you think you might loan us the hand car just this once, so we can get to Deerpark—or whatever its name is?"

The station master laughed "You couldn't pump it there on time if I did let you try, and I won't. But I will tell you boys what you can do."

"What's that?" queried Bunny, feeling very much as if a spark of sunshine had just shoved its way through some particularly black clouds.

"Some of the farmers around here own automobiles. Now, a motor car would get you to Belden just as quick as going on the R. A. & S. to Deerfield and then waiting for a 'bus. Why don't you try? They can't do any more than say 'no' to you."

"It's the only thing we can do now," agreed Bunny.

"No, it isn't," Roundy interrupted. "There's one other thing we can do, and that is—eat! We don't know when we'll be ready to tuck our legs under a table. So if nobody wants any of this truck I bought at Harrison City, I'll take care of it myself."

But the Scouts, with something like an Indian war-whoop, made it clear that they had no intention of being left out when it came to sandwiches and sweet crackers. Even Mr. Gillen, after some urging, ate a handful of ginger snaps and told them the story of the big wreck in '96. When the lunch ended, indeed, the boys were rather sorry to part with the station master, whose last words were a promise to let them all ride in an engine cab the next time they reached Harrison City.

"You will find the road just beyond that little hill," he said. "There is at least one farmhouse not more than a half mile from here. Now, don't forget that I am going to take you all riding on one of the R. A. & S.'s biggest engines when I see you again."

It was 11:25 when the boys struck the wagon road, paralleling the track, and 11:28 when they encountered a small boy with a fishing pole over his shoulder.

Was this the road to Belden? The small boy couldn't be sure; Belden was "a awful long ways"; maybe the road ran to Belden and maybe it didn't.

"We'll find out soon enough," said Bunny. "How about motor cars? Does anybody around here own an automobile?"

The small boy nodded vigorously. "You see that peddler's wagon up the road there, where the horse is standing under the tree? Well, right on the other side of the road, up a piece, there's Mr. Jenkins' house. He's got an automobile—a awful big one."

"Does he ever rent it?"

"Hold on," Bi protested; "it takes real money to rent a car, and I'll bet there isn't more than three dollars in the crowd."

"We can pay for the gas and oil, anyhow, and when we get to Belden Horace Hibbs will lend us the rest. The question is, does he rent it?"

"He takes people out sometimes," admitted the small boy.

"Then the next stop is Jenkins'," Bunny announced. "Bi, you had better act as treasurer and handle the money. Here's twenty-eight cents; that leaves me without anything."

"Better say 'busted'," put in slangy Specs, "so we'll know what you mean."

As they hurried down the road, the boys turned over to Bi all the stray dimes, nickels and coppers from their pockets, totaling altogether two dollars and one cent.

"Enough to buy the car!" commented Specs.

"At that, we are better off than our friend, the peddler," observed Bonfire. "Something has happened to his right front wheel, and he doesn't seem to know what to do."

"And something has happened to him," S. S. remarked. "Judging from his looks, he might have been run through a wringer."

The peddler was a lean, hollow-cheeked man, whose black moustache only made his pale face the whiter. As the boys came up, he was squinting ruefully at the broken wheel; its tire and splintered spokes seemed to be almost beyond repair. But when they halted by the side of the wagon, he turned and smiled good-naturedly.

"It's busted," he said, "and the more I see of it, the more busted it looks."

The boys surveyed the wheel critically.

"I don't think you can go on with that till you've done business with a blacksmith," decided Bi.

"That's just what I think, too. It's a second-hand wagon and about a fifth-hand horse." He patted the animal's lean flank. "But I hoped they would both hold together till I was fairly started. You see, I was working in the factory over at Charles City till a cleated belt and I came together in a clinch. After the doctor was through patching me up, he said I would have to stay outdoors. So I bought this outfit and was just starting my new business when the wheel busted."

"There is a good blacksmith shop back in Harrison City," Bunny suggested. "You can prop up the wagon and carry the wheel there on horseback."

The peddler nodded. "That's all right up to the point where I have to pay for fixing the wheel, and then—" He stopped with a little laugh. "Flat busted," he confessed. "Why, if I didn't figure that my luck was going to change, I should go right up and knock on the front door of the poorhouse. The wheel's busted; I'm busted. What's more, the stuff I have on the wagon won't sell until I get past Harrison City, because they tell me that three peddlers have been along here in the last week."

An uncomfortable silence followed, which was finally broken by Bunny's saying awkwardly that it was time to move on.

"Good luck, boys, wherever you're going!" The peddler waved his hand in friendly farewell. "And if you see a stray wheel rolling down the pike, I wish you would steer it my way."

The patrol had gone less than one hundred yards when Bunny broke out with an abrupt, "Wait a minute!"

For some reason, the eight Scouts and the attached Prissler were all ready and willing to stop.

"He can't fix that wheel."

"Of course, he can't."

"He'll have to go to some blacksmith shop."

"He's not any too well, either, and chances are he has a family to support."

"Well?" said Nap. He repeated the word, "Well?"

"It's no use," sighed Jump. "I don't want to do it, but there's no way out. I'd feel a lot better, Bi, if you'd take my share of the money and give it to him."

"Same here," agreed S. S. Without any sort of hesitation or argument, the patrol commissioned Bi to carry the two dollars and the one cent to the unfortunate peddler.

Bi raced down the road, while the other eight jogged slowly, awaiting his return. When he rejoined them, he was breathless but wore a satisfied smile.

"What happened? What did he say?" They were eager for the news.

"Well, he didn't understand at first; thought I was trying to buy something. When he did understand, though, that we wanted to give him the money, he bent down and began looking at the wheel, and something got in his eyes. I didn't wait to hear all his story, but he told me enough to give a pretty good idea. He has a family in Charles City, and he left every cent with them, to keep things going. But he wouldn't take our money as a gift; wanted to know where he should send it when he could repay the loan. So I gave him Bunny's name and address."

Specs was the first to speak. "I'm glad we helped him out," he said, "but now we'd better think about ourselves. What are we going to do, now that the whole outfit's—busted?"

Bunny shrugged his shoulders. "It would be better to have money, of course, but if we haven't any, we can manage somehow without it."

They were opposite the Jenkins farm. Through the pines, the house was visible, set far back from the highway. Specs halted.

"You mean that farmer there will pay any attention to us if we can't show him our money first?"

"That's just what I do mean. We are not the only people in the world who do good turns. A lot of folks get fun out of good turns who never heard of the Boy Scouts."

Specs frowned. "And you think this farmer will take us to Belden, when all we can do is to promise him that we will pay him after we get there and borrow the money?"

"We'll find out. We'll tell him just the fix we're in and how we expect to get the money to pay him; and if he is any kind of a judge of people, he will know we are speaking the truth."

"He may know we're speaking the truth," said Specs decisively, "but when you ask him to risk his gasoline and his car, he'll say he has something else to do. But come along; you'll see I'm right."

They turned into the driveway; it led to a little lawn just in front of a white house with green blinds.

"There's the car," said Nap, pointing to a bulky automobile visible through the open door of a homemade garage.

"And back there is the man who owns it," said Bonfire. "Hear that? He's behind the house, hoeing."

"You don't know whether it's a man, woman or child," answered Specs. He stooped and picked up a stone. "I suppose if I chuck this over here, you can tell me whether it lights on an ant hill or on a yellow dandelion."

Jerking his arm, he shot the stone in the direction of the corner of the house. From the rear, a second later, came the crash and jingle of breaking glass.

"Yes, I can tell you where it lit," said Bonfire cheerfully. "It lit on a cold frame. You sent the stone right through it. And here comes the man I was telling you about. If you had kept your eyes open, you would have noticed that his coat and hat are lying over there in the grass."

From behind the house, hoe in hand, stalked a tall, big-fisted farmer, whose beetling eyebrows and scraggly beard gave him a most forbidding appearance.

"Who busted that pane of glass?" he called angrily.

"Busted!" whispered Specs. "The peddler was busted, the wagon was busted, we're busted, and now the cold frame is busted. Is there anything anywhere that isn't busted?" Aloud he said, "I did it; I threw the stone."

Bunny interposed hurriedly. "It was a mistake. We didn't know the cold frame was there."

"Mistake, huh?" His frown deepened. "Well, I suppose you can pay for your mistakes?"

Bunny shook his head. "We can't pay for it now; we haven't a cent. But the nine of us must be in Belden by three o'clock this afternoon. If you will take us there in your car we will see that you get paid for the trip and for the broken glass, too."

The farmer stared angrily. "Is that all you have to say?"

Bunny took a step forward. "No," he said mildly. "If you don't care to take us, I will leave my watch with you until I can send you the money for the broken glass. It is a five-dollar watch, so you can be sure it's worth more to me than the price of one pane of glass. And if you will let us use your telephone, while we try to rent an automobile somewhere, I'll be glad to send you the money for every call."

It is not easy for an angry man to remain angry when the person with whom he wishes to quarrel keeps his temper. For a solid ten seconds the farmer frowned; then his eyebrows raised and his balled fists unclenched.

"Look here," he began awkwardly, "I'm not such a hard man as all that. I don't want your watch. Tell me why you are all bent on getting to Belden by three o'clock."

As briefly as possible, Bunny related the misadventures of their trip.

"You're a plucky lot," commented the farmer when the boy had finished. "And I should be glad to take you, for nothing, because I counted on driving to Belden myself this afternoon. But I can't go, and I can't take you, because—"

Tense and eager, the nine boys listened for the reason.

"—because the car is busted."

"Busted!" repeated Specs dolefully. "I knew it all the time. Everybody and everything is busted!"


                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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