The Shore Road Mystery/Chapter 15

It was late before the Hardy boys got to sleep that night.

The events of the evening, culminating in the discovery that the auto thieves had been at work in Bayport while they were lying in wait for them on the Shore Road, gave the lads plenty to talk about before they were finally claimed by slumber.

In the morning, it required two calls to arouse them. They dressed sleepily and had to hurry downstairs in order to be in time for breakfast. This did not escape the notice of ever-watchful Aunt Gertrude.

"When I was a girl," she said pointedly, "young people went to bed at a reasonable hour and didn't go gallivanting all over the country half the night. Every growing boy and girl needs eight or nine hours' sleep. I'd be ashamed to come down to breakfast rubbing my eyes and gaping."

"It isn't very often they get up late," said ​Mrs. Hardy. "We can overlook it once in a while, I suppose."

"Overlook it!" snorted Aunt Gertrude. "Mark my words, Laura, those boys will come to no good end if you encourage them in coming in at all hours of the night. Goodness knows what mischief they were up to." She glared severely at them.

Frank and Joe realized that their aunt was curious as to where they had been the past two evenings and was using this roundabout method of tempting them into an explanation. However, as Joe expressed it later, they "refused to bite."

Instead, they hastily consumed their breakfast, drawing from the good lady a lecture on the dreadful consequences of eating in a hurry, illustrated by an anecdote concerning a little boy named Hector, who met a lamentable and untimely death by choking himself on a piece of steak and passed away surrounded by weeping relatives.

The boys, however, were evidently not impressed by the fate of the unfortunate Hector, for they gulped down their meal, snatched up their books, and rushed off to school without waiting for Aunt Gertrude's account of the funeral. They were crossing the school yard when the bell rang and they reached the classroom just in time.

​"I feel like a stewed owl," was Joe's comment.

"Never ate stewed owl," returned his brother promptly. "How does it taste?"

"I said I felt, I didn't say I ate," retorted Joe. "Gee, but your eyes do look bunged up."

"What about your own?"

"Oh, if only I had had just one more hour's sleep!"

"I could go two or three."

"Aunt Gertrude was onto us."

"Yes, but she didn't get anywhere with it."

"Hope I don't fall asleep over my desk."

"Same here."

The morning dragged. They were very sleepy. Once or twice, Joe yawned openly and Miss Petty, who taught history, accused him of lack of interest in the proceedings.

"You may keep yourself awake by telling us what you know of the Roman system of government under Julius Cæsar," she said.

Joe got to his feet. He floundered through a more or less acceptable account of Roman government. It was dreary stuff, and Frank, listening to the droning voice, became drowsier and drowsier. His head nodded, and finally he went to sleep altogether and had a vivid dream in which he chased Julius Cæsar, attired in a toga and with a laurel wreath on his head, along the Shore Road in a steam-roller.

​Miss Petty left the Romans and began comparing ancient and modern systems of government, which led her into a discourse on the life of Abraham Lincoln. She was just reaching Lincoln's death when there was a loud snore.

Miss Petty looked up.

"Who made that noise?"

Another snore.

Joe dug his brother in the ribs with a ruler and Frank looked up, with an expression of surprise on his face.

"Frank Hardy, are you paying attention?"

"Yes, ma'am," replied Frank, now wide awake. In his dream he imagined Julius Cæsar had turned on him and had poked him in the ribs with a spear.

"Do you know who we were talking about?"

"Oh, yes, ma'am."

"Do you know anything about his death?"

"Yes, ma'am," said Frank, under the impression that the lesson still dealt with Cæsar.

"How did he die?"

"He was stabbed."

"He was stabbed, was he? Where?"

"In—in the Forum. He was murdered by some of the senators, led by Cassius and Brutus, and Marc Antony made a speech."

The class could contain itself no longer. Snickers burst out, and these welled into a wave of laughter in which even Miss Petty was ​forced to join. Frank looked around in vast surprise.

"This," said the teacher, "is an interesting fact about Lincoln. I don't remember having heard of it before. So he was stabbed to death by the senators and Marc Antony made a speech?"

"I—I was talking about Cæsar, Miss Petty."

"And I was talking about Abraham Lincoln. Will you be good enough to stay awake for the remainder of the lesson, Hardy?"

Frank looked sheepishly at his book, while Chet Morton doubled up in his seat and gave vent to a series of explosive chuckles that soon brought the teacher's attention to him and he was required to recite the Gettysburg Address, stalling completely before he had gone a dozen words. By the time the teacher had finished her comments on his poor memory, Chet had other things to occupy his mind.

Frank and Joe Hardy were wide awake for the rest of the morning.

After lunch, they were on their way back to school, resolving to cut out the late hours, so as not to risk a repetition of the ridicule they had suffered that morning, when Frank suddenly caught sight of a familiar figure not far ahead.

"Why, there's Gus Montrose again," he said. "Wonder what he's doing in town?"

​"Let's trail him," Joe suggested.

"Good idea. We'll find out what he does with his time."

The former hired man of the Dodds was shambling down the street at a lazy gait, apparently wrapped up in his own concerns. Frank and Joe followed, at a respectful distance. When Montrose reached a busy corner he turned down a side street and here his demeanor changed. His shoulders were straighter and his step more purposeful.

Taking the opposite side of the street, the boys strolled along, keeping well behind Montrose but not letting him out of sight. They followed him for about two blocks and then, leaning against a telegraph pole at the next corner, they saw Montrose's companion of the previous night. He looked up as Montrose approached, and then the pair met and joined in earnest conversation.

There was something peculiarly furtive about the two men. Not wishing to be observed, the Hardy boys stepped into a soft drink place near by and bought some ginger ale, which they drank in the store, keeping an eye on the pair across the street, through the window.

Finally, Montrose's companion moved slowly away, and Montrose himself shambled across the road. He was lost to sight for a moment.

​"We'll trail him a little while longer," said Frank. "We have about a quarter of an hour before school opens."

They paid for the ginger ale and stepped out of the shop. To their astonishment, Gus Montrose was coming directly toward them. They had lost sight of him in the window and had assumed that he had gone on down the street. Instead he had turned back.

They affected not to notice him, and were starting back up the street when Montrose overtook them and brushed against Frank rudely.

"Look here," he said, in a gruff voice. "What's the idea of followin' me, hey?"

"Following you!" said Frank, in tones of simulated surprise.

"Yes—followin' me. I saw you. What do you mean by it?"

"Can't we walk down the same street?" inquired Joe.

"You didn't walk down here by accident. You followed me here."

"You must have something on your conscience if you think that," Frank told him. "This is a free country. We can walk where we like."

"Is that so? Well, I'm not goin' to put up with havin' a pair of young whippersnappers ​trailin' me around town," snarled Gus Montrose. "Hear that?"

"We hear you."

"Well, remember it, then. You just mind your own business after this, see?"

"If you think we were following you, that's your own affair," returned Frank. "We're on our way to school, if you'd like to know."

"Well, see that you go there. You're better off in school than monkeyin' in my affairs, let me tell you. And a sight safer, too."

The man's tone was truculent.

"Oh, I think you're pretty harmless," laughed Joe.

"You'll find out how harmless I am if I catch you followin' me around again. Just mind your own buisness after this and keep goin' in the opposite direction when you see me comin'."

The man's insulting tone annoyed Frank.

"Look here," he said, sharply, facing Montrose. "If you don't start off in the opposite direction right now, I'll call a policeman. Now, get out of here."

Somewhat taken aback, Gus Montrose halted.

"You were followin' me—" he growled.

"You heard what I said. Clear out of here and stop annoying us."

If Montrose had hoped to frighten the lads, ​he was disappointed. Like most cowardly men, he backed down readily when confronted with opposition. Grumbling to himself, he turned away and crossed the street.

The Hardy boys went on toward school.

"That'll give him something to think about," remarked Frank.

"You hit the right note when you said he must have something on his conscience or he wouldn't have thought we were following him."

"I'm sure he has. A man with a clear conscience would never suspect he was being trailed. There's something mighty fishy about Gus Montrose and his queer-looking friend."

"Too bad he saw us. He'll be on his guard against us now."

"That doesn't matter. We can keep an eye on him just the same. I'd give a farm to know what the pair of them were talking about."

"And I'd give a five-dollar bill just to know if he put that fishing pole in the car up at the Dodds' and got Jack into trouble."

"So would I."

The boys were greatly puzzled. They were convinced that Gus Montrose was up to no good and this conviction had only been strengthened by their encounter. They reasoned that a law-abiding man would scarcely have shown such resentment as Montrose had evidenced.

"Well, whether he's one of the thieving ​party or not, we'll take another whirl at the Shore Road to-night," said Frank, as the two brothers entered the school yard.

Joe glanced at the sky. Massed clouds were gathering and the air was close.

"Looks as if we'll have to call it off. There's going to be a storm."

"Storm or no storm, I have a hunch that we'll get some action before the day is out."

Both Frank and Joe were right.

There was a storm, and before midnight they had more action than they had ever bargained for.