The Boy Scout Treasure Hunters | Page 7

asked, as Mr. Gates pulled up his horse.
"What's the matter?" echoed Mr. J. Jervice; "this boy been doing
anything?"
It was not an unnatural question for there was something in Mr. Gates's
look and in Glen's questioning tone that betokened affairs out of the
ordinary; furthermore, Mr. J. Jervice seemed to be so suspicious of
people in general that one might well think he had something to
conceal.
"The boy's all right," replied Mr. Gates. "I have something to say to
him, that's all. If he will come over here we will drive on a few feet
while I say it."
Glen's thoughts flew back to the folded newspaper and he was instantly
suspicious.
"I don't want to get down," he said. "This gentleman's agreed to give

me a ride to town and I don't want to keep him."
"But I want you to stay," replied Mr. Gates. "I will take you to town if
you wish, but first I want you to go back home with me and I will tell
you something important."
Glen felt one of his old, unrestrained passions rising within him.
"I know what you want," he cried. "I saw the newspaper. You want to
send me back to the reform school."
"I want to help you make a man of yourself," asserted Mr. Gates,
unmoved by the boy's passion. "It's true I want you to go back to the
school, but I will go with you and speak for you. You must go back
because it is the only right way out. Let me tell you, Glen, you will
never get over a trouble by running away from it. The manly and
Christian thing to do is to go back. And that is why I want you to do it."
"And of course you don't want the reward of ten dollars that's always
paid for returning a boy. You wouldn't take the money, would you?"
If the eyes of Mr. Gates were saddened by this mean sneer those of Mr.
J. Jervice were not. They lightened with a sudden interest, and he
jumped into the battle for the first time.
"This boy's a goin' with me," he told Mr. Gates. "He's earned a ride and
I promised it and I'm a man of my word. You be off, now, and leave
him alone."
"You are spoiling his best chance," said Mr. Gates. "I am not interested
in the school or the reward. I am simply trying to do my duty to the
boy."
"Well, you've done it," cried Mr. J. Jervice, as his car gathered headway.
"Good-by to ye."
He turned to Glen as the car got into its speed.
"So you've run away from the reform school, eh? And he was goin' to

make ten dollars taking you back?"
"Oh, he didn't want the ten dollars," said Glen, his rage all gone. "He
treated me awful fine while I was at his house. I just said that because I
was mad. But he can't get me to go back; nor nobody else unless they
tie me up first."
"I don't know?" said Mr. J. Jervice. "Ten dollars is pretty near a week's
pay for most men."
"That wouldn't make any difference with him," said Glen. "He's
straight as a string."
Mr. Gates would have been gratified to know how deep an impression
his Christian character had made on this boy who had flouted his
kindness.
Mr. J. Jervice was not inclined to conversation--he was puzzling over a
problem something akin to that of the fox and the geese (he to be the
fox). So they drove along in comparative silence until, topping a hill,
Glen exclaimed at the sight of the buildings of a large town.
"Are we almost there?" he asked.
"About three miles yet," said Mr. J. Jervice. "What you going to do
when we get there?"
"I'm not sure, but I think I'd better leave you before we get to town. I
don't believe Mr. Gates would telephone the police but somebody else
might."
"You can ride with me a couple o' miles yet. Tell ye what ye can do.
S'pose'n you get inside. There's lots o' room and there's a ventilator
back o' this seat will give ye air. You be real careful and not go fussing
around disturbing things. There's things there I wouldn't want ye to
touch."
It seemed a good idea. Mr. J. Jervice unlocked the doors in the back

and Glen stepped inside. The doors slammed behind him and he heard
the heavy steel bar drop into its slots. Then he heard something like a
laugh--a foxy laugh. Why should Mr. J. Jervice laugh? At once his
suspicions were awakened.
As Mr. J. Jervice climbed to his seat again Glen shouted to him through
the ventilator.
"Stop,"