The Brown Fox Mystery (18 page)

Jones’s white face peered upward, startled and panic-stricken, as the top of the ladder shot away from the platform to teeter upright for a long second, and then it fell backward with Jones’s voice bouncing off the walls of the old building as he screamed with terror.

There was a crash, and then another scream from Jones just before he landed on his back and lay there stunned. Baldwin drew an automatic and sent two bullets through the bottom of the platform as Djuna scurried back up the ladder to the cupola.

“I’ll shoot the next one who tries to come up here!” Djuna shouted down through the trap door, as loudly as he could shout.

There was a moment of stunned silence from below and then Lame-Brain whispered, “By golly, that kid’s got a gun!”

“Come on, Nick,” Baldwin snarled a moment later. “You’re not hurt. We’ve got to get over to Lem’s car and take it on the lam before the cops get here. You go on ahead and we’ll catch up to you.”

Miss Annie and Djuna could hear Jones groan as Baldwin and Lame-Brain helped him to his feet and Miss Annie whispered, “Do you really have a gun, Djuna?”

“No,” Djuna said, and he grinned. “But maybe they’ll think I have.” He stooped down to peer through the opening on the south side of the cupola and he could hardly suppress a groan when he failed to see Captain Ben’s boat coming across the lake or any sign of activity at the landing. Nor could he see any sign of a rowboat at the south end of the lake, so he assumed that Tommy had arrived to give the alarm. Then Djuna’s blood froze as he heard Baldwin bark an order at Lame-Brain.

“Lem!” he shouted. “Go out in the cookhouse and get that can of kerosene. If we can cook that pair, up there, so that they can never tell what we were after, we can come back later on and dig for it.”

“That’s murder, Baldy!” Lame-Brain whined. “We might cook ourselves for—”

“Get that kerosene,”
Baldwin roared, “or I’ll cook you, too!”

Miss Annie and Djuna stared at each other with horror in their eyes as they heard a flurry of movement, and then heard Lame-Brain’s feet pounding on the ground outside the icehouse.

They hoped he was running away from Baldwin, but a few moments later, when they heard his running footsteps returning, their hope turned to despair. But Djuna slid through the trap door hole in the floor of the cupola and down the ladder to the platform. Lying down on the floor, he peered over the edge and saw Lame-Brain handing a five-gallon can to Baldwin.

Baldwin’s expression was dreadful to see, as he unscrewed the cap on the top and up-ended the can to pour the contents on the huge pile of sawdust piled against the west side of the icehouse.

“That,” said Baldwin to Lame-Brain, as Djuna stared down at them with frightened eyes, “ought to cure any little chill they might have got up there last night!”

He stepped back, struck a match on the paper packet he had in his hand, and tossed it on to the sawdust. For a brief instant it flickered, then caught, and flame whipped across the pile of sawdust to the dry walls of the old building as though it was fanned by a gale.

“Try and get out of this one, you nosey little rat!” Baldwin snarled as he motioned to Lame-Brain and they both raced for the little door at the corner of the icehouse.

Djuna’s stomach turned over as he watched them disappear from sight. Then his gaze darted to the flames that were licking up the side of the wall and he sprang to his feet. He was so frightened that he was afraid he was going to be sick; but he scrambled up the ladder to the cupola and he even managed a wan smile as he looked into Miss Annie’s horrified eyes.

“They—they’ve set the building on fire?” Miss Annie asked with a trembling voice.

“Yes,” Djuna said stoutly, “but don’t worry—we’ll get out.” He gazed out the opening in the south side of the cupola and his spirits soared as he saw Captain Ben’s
Jolly Polly
circling away from the landing. But he knew he couldn’t wait for help from the men in the
Jolly Polly
because the icehouse would be a roaring furnace in five minutes.

Moving with a speed born of necessity he grabbed up the coil of rope and shouted to Miss Annie, “You’ve got to climb down to the platform. I’ll tie the rope around you and let you down!”

Miss Annie’s gaze shifted to the hole in the floor of the cupola and her whole body began to tremble as she took two faltering steps and looked down through the opening. As she began to sway Djuna caught her by the shoulder. At the same time he whipped a handkerchief from his pocket and tied it around her face to cover her eyes.

“I—I can’t do it, Djuna!” she said in a tremulous voice. “I’ll—I’ll faint. Save yourself, boy. I—I—”

“You’ve
got
to do it, Miss Annie!” Djuna said fiercely. “Get down on your hands and knees. I’ll guide you through the hole and help you down the ladder. We’ve got to hurry!”

“Can’t—can’t we go down the way you came up?” she asked as she got down on her hands and knees.

“No!” Djuna said. “You couldn’t get from the ridgepole to the ladder.
Come on, Miss Annie!
Put your feet down. That’s right … hang onto the floor … now the other foot … now down one … and another … and another … and another … hang on, you can’t fall…. Get down on your hands and knees again…. That’s right … we’ll be out of here in a few minutes.”

Quickly lashing one end of the rope around her chest, under her shoulders, he tied it securely and then ran the end down in the front and made another secure loop around her waist. He took her hands and clenched her fingers around the piece of rope that ran down across her stomach.

“That will give you something to hang onto,” he said. “Now just swing your feet around and you’ll be sitting on the edge of the platform.” He helped her swing her feet around while pungent smoke enveloped them as the flames crackled upward.

“Now sit there, perfectly still, until I shout to you from down below,” he ordered as he ran the other end of the rope through a sheave pulley that was securely fastened to the outside of one of the timbers that held the platform. “When I shout, edge yourself gently off the platform and I’ll let you down. Don’t move!”

The flames had licked to the top of the west wall and their hungry orange tongues were darting up the roof as Djuna went up the short ladder to the cupola and through the opening to the ridgepole. He took one swift glance at the lake and saw that the
Jolly Polly
was still a mile away as he swung his legs over the peak to reach the ladder on the front of the building.

Two or three of the rungs of the rickety old ladder pulled away as he made his way downward but he was moving at such a frightening speed that he had already grasped another rung to save himself from falling. He dropped the last eight feet and he was running for the little door at the left-hand corner of the building as his feet struck the ground.

Djuna’s heart stood still as he dashed inside the icehouse and took one quick glance upward. The smoke was already so thick around Miss Annie that he could barely see her!

He got the end of the sixty-foot length of rope, ran it through a large iron ringbolt he had noticed before, when he was in the icehouse with Captain Ben. and shouted, “Okay, Miss Annie! Just push yourself off easily!”

The west wall of the icehouse was a fiery furnace as Miss Annie, entrusting her life to Djuna, pushed herself off the edge of the platform and dangled twenty-five feet overhead.

“Gently does it!” Djuna called as he let out the rope, hand over hand, with live embers falling all around him. His face was strained and streaming with perspiration as he gently lowered Miss Annie to the earth through a haze of smoke.

As her feet touched the ground Djuna was beside her as she moaned,
“Oh, Djuna!”

“Just a second now, Miss Annie,” Djuna panted as he loosened the loop around her waist, and then slipped the rope from around her chest.

With what little strength Djuna had left he picked Miss Annie up in his arms and staggered out of the little door of the icehouse as Captain Ben, Socker Furlong, Sandy MacHatchet and two state troopers came pouring out of the
Jolly Polly
.

Djuna tried to speak as they came rushing up to him, but no sound came from his hps as they took Miss Annie from his arms.

A fusillade of shots dimly penetrated Djuna’s consciousness as his knees began to buckle. Socker Furlong caught him as he started to fall and gently lowered him to the ground.

“Chattering chimps!” said Tommy from his lookout post on the front porch of their cottage. “Here they come! There are about six people in Captain Ben’s boat, and he’s towing two rowboats filled with people. I’ll go down to the dock and meet ’em!”

“So will I!” said Djuna as he jumped up from the large, comfortable chair in which he was sitting.

“Djuna!”
Miss Annie said sternly from the davenport on which she was lying, propped up with pillows and covered with a light wool afghan of her own making. “You’ll do nothing of the kind! The doctor told you to rest and that’s what you’re going to do if I have to—”

“Give me a bag of cookies!” Djuna interrupted with a snicker. But he dropped back into the chair from which he had arisen and touched the half dozen small bandages that were strapped to his face with adhesive tape to cover the cuts he suffered when Lame-Brain smashed the heliograph with a rifle bullet.

“Humph!” said Miss Annie tartly, as her face reddened. “If those men had
tasted
one of my cookies I’ll bet we wouldn’t have had all that trouble.”

“Golly, I guess you’re right,” Djuna said, and then he gazed anxiously at Miss Annie and added, “Are you sure you feel well enough to have all those people here, Miss Annie?”

“I’m not going to do anything but lie right here, just as the doctor told me to,” she said as she smiled at Djuna to reassure him. “It’s really sort of an inquest and party at the same time. The Chief of Police and that Lieutenant of State Police said they had to get all the facts straightened out so I told them to come ahead. Then Mr. Furlong said he’d bring some ice cream and stuff so we could have a party, and Captain Ben said he’d bring some stuff, too. S-o-o—Glitterin’ glories of Golconda! What’s that?”

“It’s Clarabelle and Captain Ben!” said Djuna as the lilting strains of “I’m Called Little Buttercup” came wafting through the soft night air.

Socker Furlong, Sandy MacHatchet, the troopers, everyone joined in and
roared
out the rollicking words. It sounded great!

“Jeepers! It’s just like a surprise party,” said Djuna as the porch door opened and a plump young man with a jovial grin spread across his face came into the room to bow courteously to Miss Annie and then thump Djuna on the back.

“Well, my little ball of fire!” he said to Djuna. “How are
your
weary old bones tonight?”

“Oh, fine, Mr. Furlong!” Djuna said, and then he snickered and added, “Jeepers, I almost did become a ball of fire this morning!”

“And how!” said another young man who was built along the general lines of a ten-ton truck, and had eyes that were like two pieces of gray ice when they weren’t smiling, as they were now. “That was a nice job you did, Djuna.”

“Golly, there wasn’t anything else for me to do, Mr. MacHatchet,” Djuna said, as he squirmed uncomfortably at such praise from such a source.

Then the whole room was filled with people as Captain Ben and Art Holsapple, the Chief of Police, Lieutenant Martin, and two troopers from the State Police came in, carrying all kinds of packages and bundles. And right behind them was Miss Winne from Scatterly’s store, Clarabelle Smith and her mother, and Mrs. McKelvey, Andy, Don, and Betsy McKelvey.

After Captain Ben and the police officers had put all of their packages out in the kitchen Socker Furlong shushed everyone to silence and became the master of ceremonies as he introduced everyone to everyone else.

“Now,” said Socker with a wide grin on his cherubic face, “we’ll turn the meeting over to Lieutenant Martin of the State Police, and when he has finished we’ll turn you all loose on that swell food that’s out in the kitchen. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Lieutenant Martin!”

Socker waved a hand at the Lieutenant of State Police, who had brown eyes, a hearty laugh, and was built along the same lines as Sandy MacHatchet. As Lieutenant Martin stepped forward Socker made a rat-a-tat-tat sound with his lips and pretended to be rolling drums as everyone laughed and cheered.

“We really ought to turn the meeting over to young Djuna, here,” Lieutenant Martin said after he stopped laughing at Socker. “But we’ll hear from him after I’ve given you a couple of facts we’ve learned since this morning.

“In the first place, the two men that you all knew as Jones and Baldwin, who were having a treasure hunt for themselves in the old icehouse, are—according to our bouncing, bombastic reporter, Socker Furlong—really Nick Seeppia and Baldy Becker, a couple of convicts who are out on parole. We confirmed that this afternoon.

“As you know, I took a detail of troopers up the corduroy road on the east side of the lake this morning. We shot it out with them as they were trying to escape. No troopers were wounded but both Seeppia and Becker received minor wounds. They—”

“What happened to Lame-Brain?” Miss Annie wanted to know.

“He just got his face scratched when he tried to burrow into the ground to hide,” said Lieutenant Martin.

“He ought to have more than his face scratched!” said Miss Annie indignantly. “If that mirror hadn’t deflected his bullet he would have killed Djuna!”

“Don’t you worry, Miss Annie,” said Lieutenant Martin stoutly. “All three of them will get all that’s coming to them for attempted murder!”

“It’d give me more pleasure, personally,” Captain Ben broke in, “if I could just give Lame-Brain a few good boots in the pants!”

After everyone had stopped laughing Lieutenant Martin said, “It seems Seeppia and Becker met Lame-Brain, as you call him, Captain Ben, some place, and Lame-Brain sold them on the idea that Old Man Winne had buried the fortune he had accumulated during a lifetime in or around the old icehouse at the north end of the lake. They agreed to furnish the money to search for it, and also agreed to give Lame-Brain a third of it when they found it.”