But somehow he realized that it would not be safe pressing Jack Stormways too far. He was not the fighter Bully Joe had always been; for as a rule he managed to get some one else to carry out his battles for him. And Jack looked really dangerous just then.

"Pooh! words come cheap with some fellows," he muttered, as he turned away. "But you'll find they cut no figure with my partner and me. As to our keeping away from any particular spot you chumps choose to patronize, that for your silly warning," and he derisively snapped his fingers, for he was now twenty feet away.

Jack held himself in with an effort. He felt in a humor to have given the exasperating Clarence the drubbing he deserved; but it would hardly be nice to create such a disturbance of the public peace so soon before they expected to leave home. If it seemed fated that he must teach this contemptible fellow the lesson he so richly deserved it might be wise to wait until they were far away from the town where they lived.

He was looking after the departing Clarence when he saw him take out his handkerchief to wipe his forehead, for the day was warm.

Something fell to the ground, something that, even at that distance reminded Jack of a yellow telegram blank. He could just as well walk from the sporting goods store in the direction Clarence had gone as any other way. And it was his full intention to call after the other, if the paper seemed worth while.

So, in this spirit Jack bent down and secured possession of the crumpled yellow paper.

Just as he had expected it was a telegraph blank, written on but not signed. It seemed to be a message that some one had started, and upon making a mistake in the wording had crammed in his pocket while he started afresh.

That some one, of course, could only be Clarence, since the paper had fallen to the ground at the time he took out his handkerchief.

Ordinarily Jack would not have been guilty of looking at a telegraph message that had come into his possession under such circ.u.mstances. It seemed excusable now. Clarence was a secret enemy, and had been plotting to make trouble for the members of the motor boat club that had declined to allow him and Bully Joe membership.

And the very first glimpse he had of the writing gave him a thrill; for he read the address, which was:

"Jared Fullerton, Clayton, N. Y."

On the spur of the moment Jack changed his mind. Instead of calling out after the departing Clarence, and notifying him that he had dropped something, Jack just crammed the yellow paper in his pocket, and wheeling, strode away.

He was considerably excited, and eager to learn what sort of communication the other could be sending to Clayton that required the use of the wires. And as he walked hurriedly away, with his nerves on edge, he half expected to hear Clarence shouting after him, demanding the return of his property.

"I never would be guilty of doing such a thing," Jack was saying to himself, on account of the mean feeling he had, "only that sometimes it's just necessary to fight fire with fire. If I'm wrong in my suspicions then there's no harm done. But I must know what he's telegraphing to Clayton. Who Jared Fullerton is I don't know from Adam; but I bet he's cut from the same pattern Clarence and Joe were."

By then Jack had turned a corner. Unable to withstand the temptation any longer, he looked around to make sure Clarence was not in sight; and then drawing out the crumpled piece of paper, read what had been written on the blank.

"Glad to hear boat arrived, and is such a corker. I'm bringing that hundred with me, and hope you've earned it before we arrive. Don't get in trouble for--"

Apparently Clarence did not like the way that last sentence looked, for he had started to change it several times. Then, thinking he had better write the whole message over again, he had doubtless thrust the first draft into his pocket, and entirely forgotten it.

Jack read it over twice, and looked grave.

"Now what that snake's up to, I'd give something to know," he said to himself, as he started to walk on, after placing the message away in his pocket. "Some sort of dirty scheme has been mentioned in a letter, and he's meaning to pay this Fullerton for doing the thing. What could it be? He says it's to be done before he and Joe get there. A hundred dollars is a lot of money. Oh! I wonder could he mean to have this other scamp injure our boats in some way?"

It was a dreadful suspicion that beset him right then. How easy for any one to put a lighted match to the canvas tarpaulins that covered the three boats on the steamer's dock at Clayton. Why, they might be either entirely ruined, or else so badly injured as to be useless for the whole season.

Would Clarence be equal to conspiring to do such a serious thing as this? Jack was sorry to admit that he believed the other was not past it in the least. He had known him to play pranks that savored of the criminal before now; and it had always been his rich father's money and influence that had saved Clarence from getting the punishment he so richly deserved.

Obeying a sudden inspiration Jack turned and chased back to the railroad station where the telegraph office was located. He knew that the strict orders of the operating company would prevent his seeing the message that Clarence had finally given in, unless they were compelled to show it by a decree of the court. But Jack had no desire to go that deeply just then.

He knew the operator quite well, a young fellow who also sold tickets.

"Clarence Macklin was in here sending a message to Clayton, New York, wasn't he, Bert?" he asked, trying not to appear at all excited.

"Yes, that's so, Jack," came the reply from the agent; who was really an admirer of the young high school pitcher.

"How long ago was that-could I find him in town now, do you think?"

Note how cleverly this question was framed; and the operator fell into the trap without even a suspicion that he was yielding up valuable information.

"I reckon you might," he said, promptly, "because he went out of here not more than fifteen minutes ago, after sending his message. Start on Monday, I hear, Jack? Well, I only wish I was along. You fellows do have the best times going; while some of the rest of us have to keep our noses to the grindstone. Good luck to you all, and a bully trip on the river," for Jack, having picked up all the information he wanted, had turned abruptly on his heel and was leaving the station.

That settled it, then. Clarence had sent a message to the unknown Jared Fullerton, that was presumably along the same lines as the one he had first started. And doubtless that individual would be only too glad to try and earn his hundred-dollar fee before Clarence and Joe arrived.

Since none of the motor boat boys would be in Clayton to be injured, the only way in which he could do anything would be to scheme to bring some miserable catastrophe upon the precious motor boats that had arrived and were waiting to be claimed by their young owners at the steamboat docks.

It was surely a time for quick thinking, and action, unless they wished to take the chances of having their whole summer outing spoiled.

And Jack, as he hurried home, was laying out a plan of campaign in his mind calculated to outwit the miserable plotting of the reckless Clarence and his equally unscrupulous crony, Bully Joe.

CHAPTER IV-BLOCKING A SLY MOVE

"Is that you, Jack?"

"No other. Say, George, can you come over here at once?" asked the boy who was at the other end of the telephone wire; and there was that in his voice to arouse the interest of George Rollins to fever heat.

"Why, sure I can. My wheel is handy, and you'll see me drop in on you inside of a jiffy. But what's the row, Jack; no bad news about our boats I hope? They haven't been dropped overboard in the middle of Lake Erie, and sunk?"

"Oh, nothing half so bad; but I must see you," Jack went on saying. "And George, start some of the rest along too, won't you?"

"Buster and Josh are on my way, and if they're home I'll jolly both into coming. But you'd better try to poke out Herb over the wire," came the reply.

"I will. So-long, George. Get a move on you now. Important!"

Then Jack put up the receiver, to sever connection; although a moment later he was asking Central to give him the d.i.c.kson house. By great good luck Herb happened to be up in his den, doing some packing; for this was the last day he would have at home saving Sunday, and he was a very careful fellow.

After hearing the "call of the wild," as Jack expressed it, Herb consented to head for the Stormways domicile without any delay. He, too, made use of his wheel to cover the intervening distance; and quite a bunch of boys drew up in the yard about the same time.

Jack and Jimmie met them at the side door.

"Now, what under the sun has he got hold of, fellows?" queried George, nervously, as they filed up to Jack's snug den; for the serious expression on the faces of Jack and Jimmie gave him considerable concern.

Nick was puffing like a steam engine. The little rush had winded him more or less; but at the same time he also looked anxious. For, as they were on the eve of starting out on their antic.i.p.ated summer vacation, this sudden summons to headquarters gave him a shock.

"I only hope it ain't anything about the boats," he remarked plaintively, as he dropped down in a capacious chair that just suited his stout figure to a dot, and was hence invariably appropriated by Buster every time he came to see Jack.

"Well," remarked Jack, "I might as well admit right in the start that it does concern our three motor boats."

"Don't tell me that any tragedy has happened to 'em, Jack?" pleaded George, who was known to have a great affection for his _Wireless_, even though the cranky speed boat did seem to delight in playing many cruel tricks upon its skipper.

"No, not yet, I believe," came the answer.