  Christmas came and Woodcrest was almost deserted. For a whole week the school looked empty and forlorn as the boys went to their homes to spend the holiday season. The Mercers and Terry had returned to Maine, separating for a brief week to be with their own families. The Mercer brothers thoroughly enjoyed the week at home, visiting friends, spending time with the family, and getting in some fine skating. It was the day following New Year’s Day that the brothers returned to Woodcrest and once more plunged into the routine of school life. Things went along smoothly for a week, and then something unexpected happened. Just as Don and Jim were cleaning up one evening for dinner Terry burst into the room, his eyes shining with excitement. “A little excitement now and then, is relished by the best of men!” recited the red-headed boy. “Admitting that I am the best of men, what is the excitement!” grinned Jim, carefully hanging up his towel. “The Portville Bank was held up and robbed this afternoon!” came the startling answer. “What’s that?” Don exclaimed. “Sure enough,” affirmed Terry, bouncing down on the bed. “A big car drove up to the bank just before closing time and three masked men got out, walked into the place, forced their way into a couple of private vaults and ran off with a few thousand dollars, to say nothing of some valuable family plate.” “Right in broad daylight?” asked Jim. “Yes, bold as brass. It was all over so quickly that the police didn’t have a chance to do a thing about it. The bandits drove out of town before anything could be done in the way of turning in an alarm.” “They must have had the thing planned for a long time ahead, to pull off a stunt like that in the daytime,” Don said. “They must be a slick bunch, to drive out of town in a car in broad daylight.” The supper bell rang at that moment and they went downstairs, to find the corps buzzing with the news from town. Nothing else was talked of during the meal, for such things were unusual and it was the first time in its history that Portville had come in for such distinction. Scores of different plans for catching the bandits were advanced, some of which made the colonel smile. “Too bad the authorities don’t request that you boys be put on the trail to run the outlaws down,” he suggested. “If we were put on the job we’d do our best to catch those thieves,” Lieutenant Thompson boasted. After the drill the cadets managed to straggle down into town to see if there was anything unusual, but they were disappointed. A number of the local police stood about, but that was the only sign that anything was wrong. Of course there were the extra knots of townspeople who buzzed and hummed, but as most of their talk was fruitless speculation the cadets paid no attention to it. On the following day the Portville paper carried a screaming account of the robbery, in fact, there was little else in the paper but the news. Beside a dozen different accounts of the affair, given by the cashier and the clerks who had been eyewitnesses of the holdup, there were accounts of the activities of the police and promises for a speedy capture of the bandits. Pictures of the bank adorned the inside sheets, and the history of the institution took up an entire page. It was Jim who found a paragraph of unusual interest in the account. Most of the cadets had contented themselves with a glance at the headlines of the paper, but Jim had taken the trouble to read the details. He lost no time in finding Don and Terry. “Look here,” he commanded them, pointing to the paper. “I just found one item of interest to us. Did you fellows know that the private vault of the Gates family was robbed?” “I had heard so,” Terry nodded. “Anything of value taken?” “Yes, some very expensive silver plate. But this is what the paragraph says: ‘Besides a quantity of silver plate and some family heirlooms in the way of jewelry, a silver cup trophy, won at school by Arthur Gates, was also taken from the family vault.’” “A silver cup, eh?” said Don, his eyes narrowing. “Now, can that be our silver cup?” “Nope, it must be Gates’,” grinned Terry. “You know what I mean,” rejoined Don, impatiently. “We thought that the friend from Canada took the cup back with him. Well, we may have been wrong all along, and Gates probably put it in the safe deposit vault at the bank.” “I guess that is what happened,” Jim agreed. “Gates figured that we would think it went to Canada and would give up the search for it. And all the time it was right here in the town!” “I think we had better show this article to the colonel,” decided Don. “If the police ever do catch these men we may be able to see the cup before Gates gets it back.” The colonel was of the same opinion. “It may be another cup, of course,” he warned. “Gates went to other schools and he may have won other cups. I hope more honestly than he won the 1933 cup. But if we get a chance we’ll surely take a look at the cup the bandits took.” It was a foregone conclusion that it would take months to catch the bandits and no one had much faith in the Portville police. But with brilliant swiftness the local police caught the bandit trio. Working on the theory that the man had only pretended to flee in some nearby woods the local representatives of the law combed the thickets thoroughly, to run down their astonished quarry in less than a week. The three men were surprised in bed in a lonely cabin in the nearby hills, and the entire proceeds of the bank robbery were found with them. It developed later that the three men planned to bury the plate and divide the money, hoping to split up and leave the region singly, but the prompt work of the town police effectively prevented that. They were swiftly brought to justice and the first inkling that the cadets had of the fact was when the morning newspaper arrived at the school. “Well, what do you know about that!” murmured Terry, as they scanned the paper. “I didn’t know the local police force had it in them.” “They surprised everyone, perhaps even themselves,” smiled Don. Jim was reading the account closely. “All of the effects of the Gates family were recovered,” he announced. “The cup is mentioned here again, but there is no description of it. I certainly would like to know what cup it is.” “I guess we should be able to find out,” said Don. “Suppose we go down to the newspaper office and hunt up the reporter that took the account? Surely he should be able to tell us something about the cup, for it is more than probable that he saw it.” At their earliest opportunity they went to town and to the newspaper office, where they asked for the reporter who had taken down the account of the robbery. He was a young man of a pleasant personality and he was very willing to talk to them. “Just what is it that you want to know, boys?” he asked. “In the account that you wrote up of the robbery you detailed the articles stolen from the different vaults,” Don said. “We saw that among the effects taken from the Gates family vault there was a silver cup mentioned. Did you see that cup?” “Yes,” responded the reporter. “I saw all of the recovered articles. The cup was among them.” “What did it look like?” Don asked, trying not to appear too interested. “Why do you want to know?” countered the reporter. “Mr. Gates won several cups in his school days, and he won one at Woodcrest,” Don answered. “We were just wondering if it was the Woodcrest cup that was stolen.” The boys, when planning their method of procedure before coming to the newspaper office, had decided on that story. The reporter was satisfied at once. “Why, I can’t tell you that exactly,” he said, slowly. “I didn’t notice anything but the date on it.” “What was the date?” Terry asked quickly. “The date was 1933,” was the answer. “That was the Woodcrest cup,” nodded Don. “We were wondering up at the school, and we three fellows decided to stop in and see if that was the cup. Thanks a lot.” “That is perfectly all right,” the reporter smiled. “Shall I ask Mr. Gates sometime if that was the cup?” “No, it won’t be necessary,” Don replied, casually. “We know that it is the cup he won at Woodcrest, because he won one in that year. I suppose he locked it up in the vault again?” “No!” was the unexpected reply. “He left all of the other valuables there, but he took the cup back to his home with him!” “Maybe he feels so much pride in it that he wants it at hand,” suggested Jim as a venture. “I don’t know, I’m sure, but I know that he took it home with him,” the reporter concluded. When they had thanked him once more the boys left the office and started back to school, talking the situation over between them. “Well, the cup is still in our midst, and we may have another try at it,” Don remarked. “As long as it is at the house, yes,” agreed Jim. “Maybe he feels that it will be safest where he can keep an eye on it.” “Um,” observed Terry, sarcastically. “All we have to do is to get in and get at it!” “Something may turn up and give us the chance,” said Don, hopefully. “You never can tell.” |
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