Three Young Knights | Page 2

round trip, and we'd have the other ten to--to--"
"Buy popcorn and 'Twin Mountain Views' with!" finished Kent in scorn. "Well, if you want to dress up in your best fixin's and stew all day in a railroad train--"
"I don't!" rejoined Jot, hastily. "I was thinking of Old Till!"
Tilly's other name was Nathan, but it had grown musty with disuse. He was the oldest of the Eddy trio, and "ballasted" the other two, Father Eddy said. Old Tilly was fourteen and the Eddy twins--Jotham and Kennet--were twelve. All three were well-grown, lusty fellows who could work or celebrate their liberty, as the case might be, with a good will. Just now it was the latter they wanted to do, in some untried way.
It was a beautiful thinking-place, up in the consultery. The birds in the meshes of leaves that roofed it over twittered in whispers, as if they realized that a momentous question was under consultation down below and bird-courtesy demanded quiet.
Jot fretted impatiently under his breath,
"Shouldn't think it need to take all day!" he muttered. "You're as slow as--as--"
"Old Tilly!" laughed Kent. The spell of silence was broken, and the birds overhead broke into jubilant trills, as if they were laughing, too.
"I guess the name fits all right this time," Old Tilly said ruefully. "I can't seem to think of anything at all! My head clicks--the mowing machine wheels have got into it, I guess!"
"Wheels in mine, too!" Kent drawled lazily.
"Wheels!"
Jot sprang to his feet in excitement. In his haste he miscalculated the dimensions of the consultery. There was a wild flutter of brown hands and feet, and then the chestnut leaves closed calmly over the opening, and there were but two boys in the consultery. One of those parted the leaves again and peered down.
"Hello, Jot!"
No answer. Old Tilly's laugh froze on his face.
"Jot! Hello!" he cried, preparing to swing himself down.
"Hello yourself!" came up calmly.
"Oh! Are you killed?"
"'Course! But, I say, you needn't either o' you sit up there any longer gloomin'. I've thought of the way we'll celebrate. It's great!"
The crisp branches creaked as the others swung down to the ground in haste.
"You haven't!" cried Kent.
"What is it, quick!" Old Tilly said. Old Tilly in a hurry!
"Wheels!" announced Jot, deliberately. "You chaps had 'em in your head, and that put 'em into mine. Yes, sir, we'll celebrate on wheels!"
"Why, of course! Good for you!" shouted Kent. But Old Tilly weighed things first in his mind.
"That would be a go if we had enough to 'go' round. But you twinnies wouid have to ride double, or spell each other, or something."
"Spell nobody!" scornfully cried Jot.
"N-o, no, b-o-d--"
"Shut up, Kent! That's all right, Old Till. Benny Tweed'll lend me his bike just like a book--I know Ben! Besides, he owes me a dollar and I'll call it square. There!"
Old Tilly nodded approvingly. "Good!" he said. "Then we'll take a trip off somewhere. That what you meant?"
"Sure! We'll go Columbus-ing--discovering things, you know."
"Like those fellows--what's their names?--who did errands for people, and had wonderful things happen to them while doing them!" put in Kent, enthusiastically.
"Errands? What in the world--knights? He means knight-errants!" exclaimed Old Till, laughing.
"That's a good one--'Did errands for folks!'" Jot mocked.
"Well, what did they do then, Jotham Eddy?"
"Why, they--er--they--they rode round on splendid horses, all armed-- er--aaple-pie--and--"
"Apple-pie--armed with apple-pie!"
Old Tilly came briskly to the rescue.
"Never mind the errands or the pie!" laughed he. "We'll be reg'lar knights and hunt up distressed folks to relieve, and have reg'lar adventures. It will be great--good for Jot! We won't decide where we're going or anything--just keep a-going. We'll start to-morrow morning at sunrise."
"Hoo-ray for to-morrow morning!"
"Hoo-ray for sunrise!"
"Hoo-ray for Jot!" finished Kent, generously forgetting mockeries.
The plan promised gloriously. When father and mother came home from the mill they fell in with it heartily, and mother rolled up her sleeves at once to make cakes to fill the boys' bundle racks. They would buy other things as they went along--that would be part of the fun.
In the middle of the night Jot got out of bed softly and padded his way across to the bureau, to feel of the three five-dollar bills they had left together under the pincushion for a paper weight. He slid his fingers under carefully. What! He lifted the cushion. Then he struck a match--two matches--three, in agitated succession.
The money was gone!
CHAPTER II.
Jot gasped with horror. The last match went out and left him standing there in the dark. After one instant's hesitation he made a bound for the bed. "Kent! Kent! Wake up!" he whispered shrilly. He shook the limp figure hard.
"Thieves! Murder! Wake up, I tell you, Kent! We're robbed!"
"M-m--who's rob--Oh, say, lemme alone!" murmured poor Kent, drowsily.
Jot shook him again.
"I tell you thieves!" he hissed in his ear. "The money's gone! Do you hear?