Radio Boys Loyalty Part 12

It was true and the manner of his going was very apparent. The room had been entered from without, noiselessly and by experts. Taking advantage not only of the lad's sleeping soundly, the housebreakers had used some anaesthetic, for a wad of cotton that smelled like a drug store lay on the carpet. Tony had evidently been roughly dressed. His collar, necktie and cap lay on the bureau and his stockings on the floor. That he had been carried out of the window and to the ground was certain. The two ends of the ladder had left their imprint in the snow in the sill and on the ground. The ladder itself had been thrown among the bushes.

Kidnaped! There was no question about that; but how could such a thing have happened? A st.u.r.dy boy, able to put up a fight, and the thing done so silently as not to waken a soul in the house. Healthy, sound sleepers, depending on a dog--and that poor beast put down and out. Poor Tony! What would they do with him!

Bill and Gus hastily related their affair with the ugly Sicilian and that of which Tony had told them. They at once found that the big car had turned about and gone. Footprints in the snow proved that the occupants of the car had been the kidnapers.

The farmer and his family were duly excited over the case. Nothing so dramatic had ever before happened to them. Merritt was also wrought up to a pretty high pitch, for Tony had hired him very generously. The young Italian had shown himself to be a courteous, well-bred gentleman and had commanded respect. The manner of his disappearance, and the possible tragedy lurking behind it, had earned the sympathy of them all.

But the Farrells deferred everything to Bill and Gus who were both eager to act, and to investigate the too evident, yet mysterious crime, though they were rendered helpless by the snow-piled roads.

"We'll have to use your 'phone, Mr. Farrell," said Bill. "We will pay all the tolls. We've got to make this thing known and put Tony's people wise. His father's a wealthy Italian banker in the city, and he'll begin to move things when he hears about this." He turned to Gus: "If we could only get to the school and get a whack at the transmitter, couldn't we make things hum?"

"Why, my lads," said Mr. Farrell, "that is just the thing to do and I can get you there in a hurry. These automobiles have got it all over our horses for speed, but not for power. My bays will land you at the school in short order and through the biggest snow that you ever saw. Wait till I hitch them up to the Dearborn."

He was as good as his word. After promising to keep the Farrells and Merritt posted as to the progress of the hunt for Tony and its outcome, they were on the road behind a pair of splendid, steaming, plunging horses, and soon back at the Tech. The Doctor, about to depart for church, was startled by the news, and he at once turned the transmitting station over to the boys, going himself to the 'phone and keeping it busy. Mr. Farrell remained a short time. Then wis.h.i.+ng the boys success, he departed.

The county detective, the mounted police force, the city force and a private detective agency were all informed of the circ.u.mstance, with a full description of Luigi Malatesta. The incident became a "nine-days'

wonder" in the newspapers. Soon it was learned that the Sicilian had, on the very day before Tony's disappearance, sold his restaurant in Guilford for a song. He had disappeared with several others, questionable characters with whom he had been a.s.sociated, and on whom he had evidently relied to do the kidnaping. It was discovered also, through the confession of a Sicilian suspect, that Tony had been shadowed for weeks as he went about the school.

But all knowledge of the boy's whereabouts was totally lacking. Clues were run down without success. The search had failed. Mr. Sabaste, with a famous detective, came to the school and talked with Bill and Gus. He went with them to see the Farrells, where he investigated every detail.

The search went far and wide, with no trace of Tony.

The banker offered five thousand dollars for information that would insure his son's return, and smaller sums for any positive data, which might lead to the arrest of the kidnapers. Tony's mother was dead. An older brother who had been in business in the far west was once a victim of the Malatesta clan. In spite of every possible effort, the disappearance of the boy remained a mystery; nor could any of the Malatesta relatives, known by various names and suspected as accomplices, be found.

Bill and Gus were now in possession of one of the finest radio receiving sets that could be made, and several other students had purchased similar, or less perfect, sets from the boys. Whenever opportunity permitted they either had the loud speaker on, or sat with the 'phones clamped to their ears, listening in and having much amus.e.m.e.nt with the various broadcasters, public and private. It was a liberal education to hear a tenth of what was going on, besides the regular concert program each evening. But most in their thoughts was the hope, often expressed between them, of hearing something that might in some way reflect on the kidnaping mystery, for the boys missed their kind and courteous Italian friend.

CHAPTER XVIII

DIPLOMACY THAT FAILED

"Gus, I can't get it out of my head," said Bill one day, "that we're not, as they say in diplomatic language, entirely _persona grata_ here.

At least, not as we should want to be if we have the proper loyalty to the school. We have our friends, of course, among seniors, freshmen and even some of the sophs, but the sophs generally have very little use for us. Even some of our own cla.s.s, in the sports, have a big leaning toward Siebold and his bunch, and they like to go along with the shouters."

"Well, I guess they'll have to go along, then," remarked Gus indifferently.

"But Gus, it's a reflection on us. We ought to be in as good fellows.h.i.+p as anybody. Now that we've made out so well in our radio work and are not nearly so busy, with the rest of the term all lectures and exams, you know, we might gee in a little with the social end of it. And sports, too, Gus. I can't do anything but look on and shout, but you----"

Bill's remarks were inspired by a glimpse across the greensward at a bunch of fellows on the ball field, evidently at town ball and practice.

With the coming of spring and warm weather the Tech ball team had been newly organized and put at practice. The next month would see them crossing bats with Guilford Academy, Springdale School and other nearby inst.i.tutions. There was great rivalry between the home team and Guilford Academy, which had a strong team, and was much the better of the two, except that the Tech School had acquired, through Siebold's efforts, a very good outside pitcher who kept the Academy lads guessing much of the time. The winning of games, therefore, during the preceding season had been pretty even, Guilford leading by one.

And then, at the behest of older and more judicial heads, representatives of the League of Schools had met and decided that each team must play only with members of its student body, hiring no semi-professional pitchers, or even coachers, thus making the contests entirely fair.

A result of this was that in the games of this season Guilford, with a pitcher from among its fellows who had previously given his services to other teams as well, simply ran away with Marshallton Tech, winning one game by the score of fifteen to two and the other was a shut-out.

"Gus, I've bought a ball and I've got Sam Kerry, who says he used to catch for his home team somewhere in the west, to agree to keep his mouth shut and pa.s.s a few with you, off somewhere where n.o.body will see."

"Righto, old Bill! Anything you say--but what's the idea?"

"Well, Gus, I don't like Guilford's swamping this team in the way it has, and I propose to try to stop it." Bill's lips were compressed and he had that look in his eyes that meant determination.

"But Siebold--" began Gus.

"Doesn't entirely run this school, nor its ball team, even if he is captain and general high muck-a-muck," declared Bill.

It was with extreme satisfaction that Bill sat on a log at one side of a path in the woods and watched little Kerry, who proved to be no mean hand at stopping all kinds of b.a.l.l.s, nearly knocked off his feet by the machine-gun-like pitches of "that other fellow from Freeport," as Gus was sometimes called.

One early afternoon the gym instructor also sat by Bill and watched the performance. Mr. Gay had promised secrecy, but not to refrain from comment.

"I'll say he has not only got command of his ball and three good styles, but he also knows some tricks that ought to worry any man at the bat.

Throw that waiting ball again, Grier!" the instructor called. "I want to watch that--oh, fine! It looks like a hard one and a fellow will strike over it nine times out of ten. Well, I've got this to say: If we expect to win any games we've got to have a fellow like Grier in the box, but Siebold will stick to Maxwell who is about a fifth rater--at his best."

"But has Siebold all the say?" Bill queried.

"A good deal of it. You see his father backs up the boy in everything, and he has put the club on its feet financially, in a bigger way than even the Guilford team. Moreover, the elder Siebold's money built our grandstand, the dressing-rooms and hired our pitchers for quite a while.

So young Siebold can afford to play politics and insure a following, which n.o.body, even the professors, can stop. And the faculty and the Doctor don't bother over the matter. That chap is going to be a state senator, or a Congressman some day, I have no doubt."

"It won't work, though, Mr. Gay," declared Bill, "because it isn't justice. Others besides Siebold are interested in and loyal to the school. We want to see our team win, don't we?"

"Yes, of course. I'm going to shoot that at Siebold and, if you'll let me, I'm going to hint that we have a pitcher among us who outranks his choice in all the high points."

It was on the next afternoon, which was rainy, that Bill found the library pretty full of readers and among them were six or seven of the ball team. He took a seat beside Dixon and directly across the table from Siebold and Sadler. He turned to Dixon:

"When is the next ball game?" he asked.

"We play Springdale next Sat.u.r.day, but they're easy. The last game with Guilford is Sat.u.r.day week."

"It's too bad that we get licked so unmercifully when there's no need for it," Bill remarked.

"No need for it? No, there's no need for it, but----"

"I suppose we have needed it to put some sense into us, but no longer.

It would be pretty easy to clean that bunch if we went at it right."

"How easy?" asked Dixon.

"Why, you know without asking that. Putting a good man in the box and another behind the bat, of course."

"Where'd you get your good man?"

"Here in the school."

"Who?"

"I guess you'll have to keep your eyes open. Anybody ought to----"