The Clock Strikes Thirteen Part 2

Hastening to the edge of the woods, she gazed toward the parking lot. The Parker car stood where it had been abandoned, but the gray sedan was missing. A moving tail light could be seen far down the road.

"There go our friends," Mr. Parker commented rather irritably. "Their sudden departure probably saved me from making a chump of myself."

"How could we tell they didn't mean to rob that other man?" Penny asked in an injured tone. "You thought yourself that they intended to harm him."

"Oh, I'm not blaming you," the editor answered, starting toward the parking lot. "I'm annoyed at myself. This is a graphic example of what we were talking about awhile ago--imagination!"

Decidedly crestfallen, Penny followed her father to the car. They finished their hamburgers, which had grown cold, and after the tray was removed, started home.

"I could do with a little sleep," Mr. Parker yawned. "After a hard day at the office, your brand of night life is a bit too strenuous for me."

Selecting a short-cut route to Riverview, Penny paid strict attention to the road, for the narrow pavement had been patched in many places. On either side of the highway stretched truck farms with row upon row of neatly staked tomatoes and other crops.

Rounding a bend, Penny was startled to see tongues of flame brightening the horizon. A large wooden barn, situated in plain view, on a slight knoll, had caught fire and was burning rapidly. As she slammed on the brake, Mr. Parker aroused from light slumber.

"Now what?" he mumbled drowsily.

"Dad, unless I'm imagining things again, that barn is on fire!"

"Let 'er burn," he mumbled, and then fully aroused, swung open the car door.

There were no fire fighters on the scene, in fact the only person visible was a woman in dark flannel night robe, who stood silhouetted in the red glare. As Penny and Mr. Parker reached her side, she stared at them almost stupidly.

"We'll lose everything," she said tonelessly. "Our entire crop of melons is inside the barn, packed for s.h.i.+pment. And my husband's new truck!"

"Have you called a fire company?" the editor asked.

"I've called, but it won't do any good," she answered. "The barn will be gone before they can get here."

With a high wind whipping the flames, Penny and her father knew that the woman spoke the truth. Already the fire had such a start that even had water been available, the barn could not have been saved.

"Maybe I can get out the truck for you!" Mr. Parker offered.

As he swung open the barn doors, a wave of heat rushed into his face.

Coughing and choking, he forced his way into the smoke filled interior, unaware that Penny was at his side. Seeing her a moment later, he tried to send her back.

"You can't get the truck out without me to help push," she replied, refusing to retreat. "Come on, we can do it!"

The s.h.i.+ny red truck was a fairly light one and stood on an inclined cement floor which sloped toward the exit. Nevertheless, although Penny and her father exerted every iota of their combined strength, they could not start it moving.

"Maybe the brake is on!" Mr. Parker gasped, running around to the cab.

"Yes, it is!"

Pus.h.i.+ng once more, they were able to start the truck rolling. Once in motion its own momentum carried it down the runway into the open, a safe distance from the flames.

"How about the crated melons?" Penny asked, breathing hard from the strenuous exertion.

"Not a chance to save them," Mr. Parker answered. "We were lucky to get out the truck."

Driven back by the heat, Penny and her father went to stand beside the woman in dark flannel. Thanking them for their efforts in her behalf, she added that her name was Mrs. Preston and that her husband was absent.

"John went to Riverview and hasn't come back yet," she said brokenly.

"This is going to be a great shock to him. All our work gone up in smoke!"

"Didn't you have the barn insured?" the editor questioned her.

"John has a small policy," Mrs. Preston replied. "It covers the barn, but not the melons stored inside. Those men did it on purpose, too! I saw one of 'em riding away."

"What's that?" Mr. Parker demanded, wondering if he had understood the woman correctly. "You don't mean the fire deliberately was set?"

"Yes, it was," the woman affirmed angrily. "I was sound asleep, and then I heard a horse galloping into the yard. I ran to the window and saw the rider throw a lighted torch into the old hay loft. As soon as he saw it blaze up, he rode off."

"Was the man anyone you knew?" Mr. Parker asked, amazed by the disclosure. "Were you able to see his face?"

"Hardly," Mrs. Preston returned with a short laugh. "He wore a black hood. It covered his head and shoulders."

"A black hood!" Penny exclaimed. "Why, Dad, that sounds like night riders!"

"Mrs. Preston, do you know of any reason why you and your husband might be made the target of such cowardly action?" the newspaper man inquired.

"It must have been done because John wouldn't join up with them."

"Join some organization, you mean?"

"Yes, they kept warning him something like this would happen, but John wouldn't have anything to do with 'em."

"I don't blame your husband," said the editor, seeking to gather more information. "Tell me, what is the name of this disreputable organization? What is its purpose, and the names of the men who run it?"

"I don't know any more about it than what I've told you," Mrs. Preston replied, suddenly becoming close-lipped. "John never said much about it to me."

"Are you afraid to tell what you know?" Mr. Parker asked abruptly.

"It doesn't pay to do too much talking. You act real friendly and you did me a good turn saving my truck--but I don't even know your name."

"Anthony Parker, owner of the _Riverview Star_."

The information was anything but rea.s.suring to the woman.

"You're not aiming to write up anything I've told you for the paper?" she asked anxiously.

"Not unless I believe that by doing so I can expose these night riders who have destroyed your barn."

"Please don't print anything in the paper," Mrs. Preston pleaded. "It will only do harm. Those men will turn on John harder than ever."

Before Mr. Parker could reply, the roof of the storage barn collapsed, sending up a shower of sparks and burning brands. By this time the red glare in the sky had attracted the attention of neighbors, and several men came running into the yard. Realizing that he could not hope to gain additional information from the woman, Mr. Parker began to examine the ground in the vicinity of the barn.

"Looking for hoof tracks?" Penny asked, falling into step beside him.

"I thought we might find some, providing the woman told a straight story."