CHAPTER XI

GLADYS ERMINTRUDE IS RESTORED

Corbin came into sight at a little before nine o’clock the next morning, a quiet, rambling town of little homes and shaded streets commanded by a tall red water-tower. The railway touched Corbin on its way to the coast, and, as the launch drew near the line of small wharves and landings, there came the shrill screech of a locomotive bustling in from the north. Just below the town they passed a small settlement of shanty-boats, many of them hauled high and dry above the river, others moored to the bank with a plank or two bridging the gulf between. Harmon looked long and interestedly and finally confided to Tim that some day he was ‘goin’ to have him one of them there shunty-bo’ts.’

No one had slept very well the night before; no one, at least, save Gladys Ermintrude, who declared that she had ‘slumbered divinely.’ Pud and Tim, who had lain on a combination of one cot and the top of a locker in the launch, had certainly found nothing divine about their slumbers, and the fact had left them both a trifle tired and morose this fine morning. The sight of Corbin had produced in Pud the first pleasant sensation of the day, and as the launch chugged leisurely up to a slanting float, beyond which the sign ‘GasOLine, OiL & WaTer’ flaunted from the side of an old shed, the sensation grew. Here they were to see the last of Gladys Ermintrude!

During the last few miles the girl had become unusually silent, and a close observer might have suspected her of being slightly worried. And now, at the landing, she seemed to have lost some of that self-possession that had served her so admirably during the trying times just passed. Possibly the joy of being restored to her anxious parents affected her. When the launch had been made fast, she was all ready to disembark, her colorful sweater over her arm and her bag in hand.

‘Well,’ she said, just a trifle breathlessly, Pud thought, ‘I’m awfully much obliged to you boys. I shall never forget what you did for me.’

‘That’s all right,’ said Pud unemotionally. ‘How far’s this place where you live?’

‘Oh, I wouldn’t think of troubling you any further,’ protested Gladys Ermintrude. ‘I live quite a ways from here. You mustn’t――’

‘No trouble at all,’ replied Pud, climbing out. ‘We don’t mind a walk.’

‘No,’ agreed Tim, ‘we’d like it. Let me take your bag.’

Gladys Ermintrude clung to her bag tightly, though. ‘No, you mustn’t,’ she declared. ‘It wouldn’t look right for me to be seen walking through town with you boys. And――Mother would be horribly shocked! Thank you so much!’

‘I guess your mother can stand it,’ said Pud grimly. ‘Come on, Tim. Harmon, you stick here till we get back.’

Gladys Ermintrude bit her lip as she followed across the wharf, but presently she appeared to recover somewhat of her wonted composure and allowed the gallant Tim to take her bag. Then, a step or two in advance of her escort, she led the way. By the time they had crossed the main street of the town and were among the modest residences, she was walking with quite an air. Occasionally she bowed impressively to a passer or to some housewife engaged in sweeping a tiny front porch. On such occasions the persons addressed turned in their paths or paused in their labors to stare long and fixedly after her.

The distance was not great, after all, for they had only walked four blocks when Gladys Ermintrude paused at a gate in a white picket fence, smiled gratefully, and held out her hand. ‘Well,’ she announced, ‘I’ll say good-bye. It has been most kind of you――’

But Pud, who had been observing the house, interrupted coldly. ‘Aw, come on,’ he said. ‘You don’t live here.’

‘Why, I do, too!’ Gladys Ermintrude stamped her foot in a most unladylike manner. ‘You give me my bag!’

‘Don’t you do it, Tim. Look at the name on the door; “Hopkins!” And look at the windows all closed up. Don’t any one live here, I guess.’

‘You mind your own business,’ flared the girl. ‘And you give me my bag this instant!’

‘_Tibbie! Tib-bie-e-e!_’

Two houses farther along a slight little woman was beckoning from the porch. The three turned and looked. Gladys Ermintrude’s manner underwent a remarkable change. She laughed joyously. ‘Why,’ she exclaimed, ‘there’s Mamma! Hoo-ee, Ma!’

Pud and Tim, the latter’s face an interesting study in bewilderment, followed the lightly tripping feet of Miss Liscomb. In front of a tiny buff-painted house, neat, but not at all the mansion of Gladys Ermintrude’s description, Mrs. Liscomb awaited them, an expression of mingled relief and uneasiness on her thin, tired face.

‘Well,’ she said as the girl clasped her emotionally, ‘so here you are! Your pa’s been hunting all up and down the river for you. Now, that’ll do! I’ve been hugged quite a plenty. You stand still a moment and tell me what you’ve been up to this time.’

‘Why, Ma!’ said Gladys Ermintrude reproachfully. ‘How you talk! And right before strangers, too!’

‘Humph,’ said Mrs. Liscomb. ‘Young man, you can set that bag down on the steps, and then maybe you’d better tell me where you came across this young lady.’

‘Now, Ma,’ said the girl, ‘I’ll tell you all about everything just as soon as we’re alone. We mustn’t keep these boys any longer. Oh, dear, I forgot to introduce you, didn’t I? Ma, this is Pud. I don’t know his other name. And this is Ted――no, Tim. They’ve been very kind and obliging. They brought me up the river in their launch, and Ted――Tim carried my bag for me. Wasn’t that nice of him? And now I guess I’ll say good-bye――’

‘We rescued her from the kidnapers, ma’am,’ said Pud innocently, ‘and we’d have had her here before only they chased us and we had to camp out overnight on a creek down there.’

‘Oh,’ said Mrs. Liscomb, turning a piercing look on her daughter, ‘so she was kidnaped, was she?’

‘Sakes alive, Ma, can’t you take a joke?’ giggled Gladys Ermintrude. ‘He’s always joking. He’s just too funny for words!’

Pud scowled. ‘How big is the reward, ma’am?’ he asked.

‘Reward?’ faltered Mrs. Liscomb.

‘Well, I think I’ll take my bag in and――and――My, how very tired I am!’ And Gladys Ermintrude hurriedly faded from the picture.

Mrs. Liscomb heaved a sigh. Then she said: ‘Come up on the porch, please, and tell me just what happened. You look real tired yourselves.’

Pud, occasionally aided by Tim, gave a brief but succinct narrative of events, and at intervals Mrs. Liscomb nodded and at intervals she sighed.

‘Of course,’ said Pud in conclusion, ‘I knew there wasn’t any reward. We didn’t come for that, ma’am. But what I’d like to know is was she really kidnaped?’

‘No, she wasn’t. I’m so sorry about it all, because you were dear to take all that trouble. I might as well explain, first off, that Tibbie――’

‘Is that really her name?’ asked Tim.

‘Her name is Isabel, but we’ve always called her Tibbie.’

‘Gosh, she said it was Gladys Ermintrude!’

‘I dare say. She――she says a great many things that aren’t so,’ sighed Mrs. Liscomb. ‘Sometimes I call them just plain, out-and-out lies, but her father says it isn’t that; he says she’s got too much imagination. She reads an awful lot of trashy books, and just recently she’s gone perfectly insane about moving-picture shows. Mr. Liscomb says she’ll get over it as she grows older, but I don’t know. Seems to me she gets worse instead of better.’ Mrs. Liscomb paused and sighed discouragedly. Pud pursed his lips and then said judicially: ‘Well, she certainly is a pretty good imaginater, ma’am!’

‘I do hope it’s no more than that,’ was the troubled reply. ‘She says she’s “playing a rôle,” whatever that means; something she’s picked up from those moving pictures, I suspect. She’s just about wore me out. I did think when she went down-river with her pa and her Uncle Asa I’d have a minute’s peace. She was wild to go, and while they didn’t want her, I guess, they took her along because she’s a real handy cook. They were going fishing and shooting for a week, you know.’

‘Yes’m,’ said Pud. ‘Were those men her father and uncle?’

‘Yes, and of course they were dreadfully upset when Tibbie ran off like that in a strange boat, and they spent hours going up and down the river looking for her, and then they came back here about midnight to see if she’d come home. Mr. Liscomb says he’s going to whip her when he gets her, but I don’t suppose he will. He’s always saying that, but he never does it.’

Pud stared into the sunlight as one who sees a vision. ‘I guess,’ he said earnestly, ‘whipping’s awfully good for children sometimes.’

‘Well, I don’t know. Mr. Liscomb will be back very soon. He went to telephone to some folks who live down the river a piece. He thought it might be that Tibbie had gone there. Now don’t you hurry away. Mr. Liscomb will want to thank you for taking such good care of her!’

But Pud was already on his feet and moving anxiously toward the steps, and Tim was very close behind him. ‘Yes’m,’ replied Pud hurriedly, ‘but it wasn’t anything, and we’ve got to be going now. I――we’re awfully sorry we let her fool us, ma’am, and didn’t know about them being her father and uncle, because if we had known we wouldn’t have done it, of course, and I’d like you to tell him so, if you please. And I guess we’d better be going on now!’

‘Well, I’m sure I’m much obliged to you,’ said Mrs. Liscomb heartily, as she shook hands with each. ‘And I know Tibbie is, too. Or, if she isn’t, she ought to be. I guess she’ll be right ashamed of herself, too.’

‘Yes’m,’ agreed Pud, his gaze fixed uneasily in the direction of the business section. ‘Yes’m. Well, that’s all right. We were glad to do it――I mean――Well, good-morning, ma’am!’

At the gate, with no backward glance from even Tim in the hope of one last fleeting glimpse of Gladys Ermintrude, the boys turned to the right and walked briskly away. They believed that the returning Mr. Liscomb would approach from the other direction, and neither Pud nor Tim was anxious to meet him. It might be, as Mrs. Liscomb had suggested, that he would thank them, but, recalling the events of the past eighteen hours, they had their doubts!

They didn’t say much as they made their way as inconspicuously as possible back to the boat. Once Tim remarked in the tone of one who at last finds the solution to a puzzling problem:

‘Remember when she said her uncle’s brother wasn’t her uncle? Well, he wasn’t. He was her father.’

‘About the only time she told the truth,’ grunted Pud.

A little later Pud asked unkindly: ‘What are you aiming to do with your share of the reward, Tim? Let’s see; a third of ten thousand dollars――’

‘Aw, shut up,’ muttered Tim.

They found Harmon asleep on the after seat, one bare black leg crooked over the gunwale. When awakened, he accepted the announcement that there was to be no reward coming his way with admirable philosophy. ‘Reckon we’s goin’ have plenty money when we sack a town, ain’ we, Mister Pud? Where-at’s ’at town?’

As much as they desired to cast off and put space between them and the grateful Mr. Liscomb, they were obliged to transact certain business before doing so. Oil was needed, for one thing, and food for another. They had spoken carelessly before starting the trip of eating a great deal of fish, and in consequence they had not stocked heavily with meat. Now, save for a small residue of bacon and a single can of baked beans, the larder was bare of what might be termed the foundations of a meal. It was decided to replenish here and now, since, whether they went farther upstream or returned down it, there was no other town of size for many miles. Pud got his oil and then carelessly suggested to Tim that the latter could do the shopping if he liked. Tim showed no gratitude for the favor. They debated sending Harmon to the stores, but in the end they concluded to go together. After all, Mr. Liscomb would be quite as likely to find them at the landing as in the town, and if they had to listen to his expressions of gratitude, perhaps it would be better to do so where there was plenty of room in case Gladys Ermintrude’s father became too earnest.

Pud took the remains of the ten-dollar bill, which had been provided for current expenses and which had been broken at the gasoline station at Livermore, from its hiding-place, and they returned to the business street of the town, Harmon once more being left in charge of the launch. They purchased fresh meat and bacon and bread and a dozen bananas and a box of cookies, and then Pud, reflecting on the advantage of having small bills handy, proffered a five-dollar note. It was a surprisingly new and crisp note to have been through the pocket of a gasoline supply man. The grocer who accepted it seemed to be thinking something of the sort, for he turned it over and peered at it closely for several seconds. Then he fixed Pud with a stern look and asked:

‘Where’d you get this bill, hey?’

Pud told him. The grocer again turned it over, again studied it. Then, with no further words, he walked from behind the counter and laid a firm hand on Pud’s shoulder.

‘You come along with me,’ he said. ‘This bill may be all right, but it don’t look it, and I’ve been stung twice already.’

Pud hung back. ‘Where do you want me to go?’ he asked.

‘To the bank, young man. It ain’t but four doors from here. I don’t like the slick look of this bill, and I’m going to have Jim Knowles pass on it afore I take it.’

‘Oh, all right,’ said Pud, ‘but there isn’t anything wrong with it, I tell you.’ Nevertheless, he was beginning to have doubts of the bill himself. It _was_ awfully neat and crisp, while most of the paper currency that circulated thereabouts was quite the contrary. And he recalled Mr. Ephraim Billings’s statement of a week before. A counterfeit bill, Mr. Billings had stated, looked just like a good one. And that was just what this bill looked like! Pud, as he walked docilely beside the grocer to the door of the Corbin National Bank, wondered if the penalty for trying to pass counterfeit money was very heavy. Tim accompanied them, looking greatly worried. They had to stand in line for a minute before the wicket. Finally, though, the man behind it was looking inquiringly from the bill to the grocer.

‘Well,’ he snapped impatiently, ‘what you want I should do with this, Henry?’

‘Want you to look at it.’

‘I am a-looking at it. What’s wrong with it?’

‘Looks sort of funny to me, Jim. Thought maybe it was phoney. I got stung twice just recent, like you know, and――’

‘Pshaw!’ The man behind the wicket thrust the bill back irritably. ‘I told you twenty times how to tell those counterfeit notes, Henry. Use your brains! I told you――’

‘All right, all right! This is O.K., is it? Then suppose you give me five ones for it, Jim.’

Jim did so, sourly, and the three returned to the store, the grocer apologetic, Pud and Tim much relieved.

‘You see,’ said the storekeeper as he made the change from the cash register, ‘there’s a lot of queer money been circulating around this part of the State recently. Tens and twenties, though I ain’t seen any of the twenties. About a fortnight ago two men came in here and bought nearly four dollars’ worth of goods and gave me a ten-dollar bill. It was a mighty nice-looking bill and I put it aside so’s to have it in case I was to need a nice crisp ten. Well, sir, when that bill went to the bank――happened I didn’t pay it out again――that feller we were just talking to took and stamped “Counterfeit” right across it four or five times! And, by Jupiter, I was out ten dollars!’

‘That was hard luck,’ said Pud, reaching for his bundles.

‘Wa’n’t it? And then again, about a week after that, it happened again. That time it was Clay Moody, the garage man, paid me. He never could remember where he got it. Anyway, you see we’ve got to be careful, and that’s why I was doubtful about that bill you handed me. It looked awful pretty. Well, if it ain’t all right,’ he chuckled, ‘I don’t need to worry. And, by Jupiter, I wouldn’t feel any too blamed sorry if it _was_ bad, seeing Jim Knowles was so tarnation snippy!’

They got back to the launch without further misadventure, and without, fortunately, so much as sighting the grateful Mr. Liscomb. Ten minutes later they were in the stream, bound up-river to a place known as ‘The Flat,’ where the bass lived. The Flat had a Statewide reputation as a fishing ground, and, although they were now supplied with enough fresh meat for one repast, they all agreed that a nice fried bass would touch the spot as nothing else could!