CHAPTER XIII

Tracing the Threads

Garry Grayson's heart gave such a bound that it almost seemed to turn over.

"Tell me! Tell me!" he cried.

"That interests you, does it?" returned Cal, with grin. "I thought it would. Now listen, Garry, and I'll tell you what I know about this.

"I was out with some of my friends a short time ago," he went on. "We stopped at a roadhouse for a bite to eat. Sandy Podder, Lent Stewart, and another fellow I didn't know were sitting at a table near us. The whole bunch of them had hip flasks--"

Garry uttered an involuntary exclamation, and Cal glanced at him quizzically.

"Yeah," he continued, "and by the time we had finished dinner that bunch was pretty wild. When we got up to go we saw the landlord of the place go and join Sandy and his bunch at their table. They began talking in a low voice so that we couldn't hear anything they said, except here and there a word.

"After we got out to the car, I found that I had left my cap behind and went back for it. Here's where the interesting part comes in."

Cal paused and watched the road thoughtfully for a few seconds where it turned and twisted before them.

"For the love of Pete, go on!" cried Garry.

"I'm coming to it," grinned Cal. "Well, you see by this time it was pretty late, and there was no one in the dining room of the place but Podder and his gang--"

"And the landlord," put in Garry.

"And the landlord," repeated Cal gravely. "He's a very important person in the tale, as you'll see. As I opened the door I happened to hear your name mentioned. You see they thought they were alone and were not so careful to keep their voices lowered.

"'We'll plant the flask in Garry Grayson's desk,' I heard Sandy say.

"'And in Rooster Long's and Bill Sherwood's too,' said Stewart. 'Might as well make a good job while we're about it.'

"'It will be kissing good-bye to three flasks and a pint of good liquor,' said Sandy, grinning foolishly, 'but we won't grudge 'em that, will we, fellows?'"

Garry's hands clenched until the nails bit into the palms.

"Go on!" he cried.

"Well, that's about all," said Cal. "I went in and got my cap, and they looked at me as if I were some sort of a crook--"

"The dirty crooks themselves!" muttered Garry, scowling.

"You said it," agreed Cal cheerfully. "I didn't think much about it--supposed, in fact, that the fellows were so fuddled they didn't know what they were doing and that nothing would come of it until I heard in a roundabout way that you fellows were accused of some sort of tomfoolery in school. Then when I found that you'd been barred from athletics because of those hip flasks that had been planted in your desks--well, I felt it was about time that little Cal stepped in and told what he knew."

"Say, Cal, I don't know how I can thank you for this!" Garry's face was radiant and his eyes gleamed with sudden determination. "I've got to get this thing to Mr. Allen right away."

Cal nodded.

"Mr. Allen may not think my story is proof enough. He knows, or can find out, that I'm friendly with you because of the way you helped my father, and he may think I'm just cooking this up to get a pal out of trouble. I've thought of that, and so I'm going to help you to corroborate my evidence."

"How's that?" asked Garry eagerly.

"I'm going to take you right now to the roadhouse and try to scare the landlord into telling what he knows about this plot."

"Do you suppose he'll do it?" asked Garry.

"He won't want to do it. I know that much," replied Cal. "But I think I can put a flea in his ear that will make him be good. At any rate, I'm going to try it."

"Good!" exclaimed Garry, all his despondency gone. Hope coursed through his veins like wine. Every moment's delay seemed unbearable to him.

"You're a friend worth having, Cal," he cried jubilantly. "And now you wouldn't mind stepping on the gas a bit, would you?"

Cal laughed and complied.

"Eager on the scent now, aren't you? Thought maybe you'd be when you'd heard my story. But the place isn't far off and we'll be there in a jiffy."

So saying, Cal Yates turned a curve in the road, skidding merrily on two wheels.

There was a yell of fright, and three burly tramps stepped to one side with surprising quickness.

Cal turned to the scowling men.

"Sorry," he called out. "Didn't see you coming. Glad I didn't hit you. S'long!"

For answer, one of the tramps picked up a big stone and hurled it at the car, but the speed at which it was going disturbed the fellow's aim, and the car went by undamaged.

"Surly brute, isn't he?" asked Cal indignantly. "Any one might think we were trying to run him down on purpose. If that stone had hit one of us, it sure would have done some damage."

They had gone a few hundred feet further when something went wrong with the car. Cal drew it up by the roadside and got down to investigate. A few moments went by. Then came a sharp cry from Garry.

"Look out!" he called.

Cal looked up just in time see a stick in the hands of one of the tramps who had followed them descending toward his head. He dodged, and the tramp, almost overbalanced by missing his stroke, stumbled forward, and in the attempt to save himself dropped the stick.

Instantly Cal picked it up and gave the man a poke with it in the pit of his stomach. The man doubled up and sat down promptly, gasping for breath and with all the fight knocked out of him for the moment.

Simultaneously with his cry of warning to Cal, Garry had jumped from the car. As he did so, the other two tramps rushed toward him.

Against the three of them it would have fared hard with the boys if at that moment a car full of schoolboys who had been to the game had not swept around the bend of the road. They took in the unequal struggle in an instant, stopped the car and swarmed down from it.

At these unexpected reinforcements the tramps, seeing themselves much outnumbered, made off at good speed, never once stopping to look behind them.

The newcomers, who took it all as a lark, shouted lustily and pursued the fleeing rascals until the latter were lost in the woods near by. Then they returned, waved aside laughingly the thanks of Garry and Cal, jumped into their waiting car and sped away.

Garry turned to Cal, grinning and wiping the dust from his clothes.

"That was a lucky interruption for us," he said.

"Surest thing you know," agreed Cal.

They resumed their trip, and before long drew up at a roadhouse that stood a little back from the highway.

"Ready for the next act?" asked Cal.

"More than ready--eager," returned Garry.

They went quietly around to a side door of the building. Cal appeared to know his way about very well.

"The eats are good here," he explained, "and I've often dropped in when I've been coming home from a spin. Only for the eats though, for I never touch anything stronger than tea or coffee for liquid refreshment."

"Don't seem to be doing much business now," volunteered Garry, as he looked about.

"The dinner crowd hasn't begun to come yet," replied Cal. "It's a good time to find Jake unoccupied. Come on. I think I'll know where to locate him."

Jake, Garry conjectured, was the proprietor of the place.

Cal opened the side door with an air of assurance and stepped into a large kitchen. The cook and two helpers were already busied with preparations for dinner. Cal greeted them jovially.

"Want a word with Jake in private, Jerry," he said, and favored the cook with a wink. "Where shall I find him?"

Jerry, a big fat man with a chef's hat on his head, jerked the hat toward a door at the further end of the kitchen.

"In his office. Go on in. He's always glad to see old customers."

Cal crossed the kitchen swiftly, Garry at his side.

He swung open a door, crossed a small passageway, then opened another door.

Tilted back in his chair with his feet on a desk sat a fat, greasy, little man with an expression of lazy contentment on his face.

As Cal and Garry stepped into the room the man made as though to rise, but Cal waved him back with a careless gesture.

"Don't get up, Jake," he said, "This is a friend of mine, Garry Grayson." A nod of his head indicated Garry. "We've come to make a little call, Jake, but we won't stay more than a few minutes. How's business?"

"Great!" The greasy little man indicated two chairs, one on either side of the desk, and waved his guests into them. "Effery day ve got a crowd vould make you sit up und take notice. Eet is such a pleasure to see how der people like my liddle place. Bisness gets better effery day."

"That's good. Nice little place you have here, Jake," said Cal gravely. "You must be pretty well attached to it by this time."

"Sure, I like my liddle place. I build it up myself und make of it a bisness what pulls in der money hand over fist. Sure, I like it."

"And in that case, of course," Cal said carelessly, but watching the proprietor as a cat does a mouse, "it would break your heart to have it closed up, wouldn't it, Jake?"

The eyes of the little man narrowed suddenly until they seemed mere slits in his greasy face. Slowly he removed his feet from the desk, his eyes holding Cal's.

"What foolishment iss you talking?" he demanded coldly.

"Now listen, Jake." Cal assumed an easy air as he bent over the desk, one elbow resting on it. "We, Garry Grayson and I, want this to be just a friendly little chat. It's your fault if it takes an unfriendly turn. That right, Garry?"

Garry nodded. His eyes had narrowed too. He was watching the man behind the desk intently.

"So, Jake, that being understood, suppose we come down to cases," continued Cal lightly.

"Vot you mean by cases?" asked Jake, with symptoms of growing belligerence. "Vot iss it you vant of me?"

"Something very simple, Jake; very simple." Cal's tone was soothing. "Garry Grayson here finds himself in a jam, so to speak, a nasty mess, and all along of some hip flasks that were planted in the desks of him and two of his chums. This dirty trick was pulled by a couple of fellows who hate him and want to run him out of the Lenox High school. You know those fellows, Jake. They come here often."

"Vell," replied Jake guardedly. "Vot if they do?"

"Because," explained Cal, "the dirty work of these fellows has caused Garry Grayson and two of his friends to be barred from athletics in the school. It has put them in Dutch. Now, I like these boys a lot, Jake, and I'm not going to stand by and see them framed. I happen to know who framed them, and I happen to know that you know too. With your help, Jake, I'm going to show up those fellows for what they are."

"Mit my help, yes?" queried Jake, in a soft voice. "I dink nod. I do not dell on my customers."

"I see," said Cal quietly. "Then you'd rather have your customers tell on you?" As the little man whirled upon him, Cal continued quickly: "Now listen, Jake. I think you're going to help me get Grayson and his friends clear of this mess, and I'll tell you why."

"For vy?" questioned the little man barely above a whisper that suggested the hiss of a snake.