Chapter 4 IN FOR A FROLIC

The high-school boys and girls of Scranton, like those of most other communities, delighted in getting up occasional entertainments so dear to the hearts of young people. A straw-ride late in the summer; it might be a class-spread under difficult conditions on account of the envy of the other grades at school; and once in a while a jolly barn dance was engineered by a committee composed of both sexes.

There was just such a pleasant outing arranged for this same Friday night. Some of the fellows had made up a party to go out several miles to where a big barn, as yet empty of the anticipated crop of hay, offered them excellent facilities for a merry hop.

A trio of darky players had been engaged. The leader was quite famous through that section of country and had played at such affairs for years. Everybody for miles around knew Daddy Whitehead and the fiddle from which he could extract the most enticing music boys and girls had ever danced to; while his assistants, Mose Coffin and Abe Skinner were fairly good with the violoncello and oboe, making a good combination capable of playing up-to-date dances, as well as others known to the fathers and mothers of the present generation.

These affairs were conducted with a due respect to the proprieties. A middle-aged lady invariably went along in the carryall to chaperone the young people, although there was a deal of fun going and coming back home, as well as on the floor of the great barn, with its many lanterns to serve in lieu of electric lights.

Hugh was going, of course. He and his best chum, Thad Stevens, had a pretty fair car in which to transport the two girls whom they had invited as their partners. These same girls were co-eds with Hugh and Thad on the weekly paper which Scranton High issued, just as many other schools do. They were named Sue Barnes and Ivy Middleton. Sue was Hugh's company, while the dark-haired vivacious Ivy seemed to have a particular attraction for Thad.

By the way, since Thad has thus far not been introduced to the reader, it might be a good idea to say a few words about him before going any further with the exciting events that happened on the Friday night of the barn hop.

Thad was a quick-tempered lad, in which respect he seemed to differ radically from Hugh, who somehow managed to keep his under wonderful control, as though he had long practiced holding it in subjection. Strangely enough, Thad's folks came of Quaker stock, and "thee" and "thou" had been familiar words to his young ears. But Thad apparently had not inherited the peaceful ways of his ancestors, for he had been in more than a few battles with some of his more pugnacious school companions, nor did he always come out from these encounters first best.

All the same, Thad was a pretty clever chap, and Hugh had always been very fond of his chum. They got on wonderfully well together, and seldom had the least "tiff."

It was Thad who had secured his father's old car for the special occasion. He turned up at Hugh's house about half-past seven that evening. It was a calm night, and the moon was just rising in the east, being a little past her full period.

"Say, this couldn't be improved on any, according to my notion, Thad," Hugh remarked, as, attracted by the call of the klaxon outside, he hurried forth, wearing his overcoat, for the night air was quite chilly, it being still only April.

"A bang-up night for a dance," echoed the enthusiastic Thad; "just cool enough to keep us from getting overheated. The farmer's wife will make the coffee, and spread a table for us in her big kitchen, she promised; and the girls are to provide lots of good things. We're mighty lucky for once, Hugh."

"How many do you think will be on hand?" asked the other, settling down alongside the driver.

"Well, ten couple have solemnly promised to attend, barring some accident; and I reckon there may be several more show up, because we've done lots of talking about the jolly time we expected to have. I only hope that Nick Lang and his crowd will have the decency to stay away. If they show up there's bound to be trouble brewing."

"I'm afraid so," acceded Hugh, seriously, "for Nick is never so happy as when he's making other folks miserable. But the farmer has a stout hired man, who will be on deck to keep an eye on our cars, and other conveyances; so there'll hardly be any tricks attempted with the lines, taking wheels off buggies, and all such practical jokes, such as those fellows dearly love to play."

"I heard Owen Dugdale was coming," Thad went on to say, as they started off, "which is something unusual for him, because up to now we've never seen him at a hop."

"Now how did you learn that?" laughed Hugh.

"Oh! a little bird told me," replied the other. "Fact is, Hugh, pretty Peggy Noland told my sister Grace Owen had asked her to be his company to this hop, and she had accepted, because somehow she always liked Owen."

"Whew! I wonder now how Nick Lang will feel about that?" ventured Hugh. "You know Peggy used to have him for her company a number of times. But I remember how annoyed she looked at the class spread when he acted so rudely, and made everybody present wish he had stayed at home."

"Oh! Peggy says she will never, never go anywhere again with that terrible Nick Lang. She never did like him any too well, and now she detests him. I only hope Nick isn't mean enough to try to pick on Owen because Peggy's accepted his offer to take her to the barn hop."

There were so many other things pressing on Hugh's mind just then that he did not give the matter much attention. Later on, perhaps he might have it brought forcibly before him, and in a manner bordering on tragedy in the bargain.

Hugh meant to take Thad into his confidence at the first favorable opportunity. He knew his chum would never breathe a syllable of what he told him; and possibly two heads might prove better than one in solving what promised to be a great enigma. But the time was too short now to even mention the matter. Perhaps later on as they chanced to come together between the dances he would find the opening he sought to confide in Thad. He did excite the other's curiosity, however, by saying just before they drew up in front of the Barnes' home:

"I've got something queer to tell you, Thad, when I get the chance. Perhaps it'll come while we're resting between dances. I've undertaken a pretty big proposition, and I'd like to have you share it with me."

"Well, now, you have got me guessing," chuckled Thad. "What a fellow you are for undertaking big things. Nothing seems to faize you, Hugh, Can't you just give me a little clue to feed on till you explain it all? It's mean to stir me up like that, you know, old fellow."

"All I can tell you now," said Hugh, who had discovered some one peeping out through the lace curtains at the parlor window, and knew how anxious Sue must be for him to run up the steps and ring the door bell, "is that it concerns Owen Dugdale. So just let your curiosity-mill work on that until I can spin the whole odd yarn."

"Whew! you've twisted me up worse than ever now," he heard Thad muttering, as he hastened to make for the door, where the eager Sue awaited him, having seen the car stopping at the curb.

As Ivy lived only a short block away, they speedily had her installed alongside the chattering Sue in the back seat; though possibly on the way home the girls might prefer to change partners, as Ivy was heard to say she just dearly loved to be alongside the chauffeur when out in a car, because the view was so much better.

On the road they passed several vehicles, all bound in the same direction. Now it was a slow car that managed to roll along "like an ice-wagon," as Thad laughingly called out on going ahead. Then again it was a buggy pulled by a horse; for there were actually a few of these almost extinct quadrupeds still to be found in some of the family stables of Scranton.

"Listen! that must be the carryall ahead of us," called out Thad, not venturing to turn his head when he spoke, because the road was rather poor, with ditches on either side, while the moon gave rather a poor light, since it had not yet risen above the haze near the horizon.

Some one aboard was noisily tooting the horn, for some boys seem to be up to all manner of mischief every hour of the day, and dearly love to make a noise in the world, even though it rasps on other people's ears distressingly.

Once they arrived at their destination, they found it a very gay scene. The barn had been quite prettily decorated by some of the girls who had come out during the last two afternoons after school to sweep the floor, and instruct the farmer and his helper just where to hang the many lanterns they had fetched along.

There was Daddy Whitehead, with his famous fiddle, which he was already tuning up, so as to be ready to commence operations; while his "band," consisting of Abe Skinner and Mose Coffin, sat there with huge grins on their faces, and also an expectant look. They had undoubtedly noted the huge hampers of eatables that came with each party, and could anticipate a delightful break in the monotony of sawing away, or blowing steadily into that oboe instrument.

Chattering girls and boys were soon strewn all about the place. The farmer and his good wife seemed to be enjoying the picture, since it must have reminded them of somewhat similar episodes in their own younger years, when life seemed buoyant, and without any trouble such as time always brings in its train.

Soon the first dance started, and immediately the floor was covered with happy couples whirling in the maze of a waltz. More vehicles arrived, and others joined in the festivities. This continued for two solid hours, with brief respites to allow both musicians and dancers a chance to "rest up."

Then some of the girls were called upon to pass into the kitchen of the farmhouse to start work at getting supper ready; though none of the boys were allowed to accompany them, being told that they would only interfere with the work.

It happened that among those who took this duty on themselves were both Ivy and Sue, so that Hugh and Thad found they were without partners. They were feeling a bit fatigued in the bargain, and following the example of several other fellows who were in the same fix, they strolled outside for a breath of cool air, taking care to pick up their overcoats, as they were flushed from exercise.

Here Thad demanded that Hugh explain what his strange words meant with reference to Owen Dugdale. He listened while the other told the story in low tones; for while they believed themselves alone in the moonlight, it was always possible that some other fellow might be loitering close by, and thus overhear what was not intended for his ears.

Thad of course was deeply interested by what he heard. He, too, declared that it seemed preposterous to think that Owen could demean himself so much as to deliberately steal what belonged to the queer old French madame. At the same time Thad admitted he considered the circumstantial evidence fairly strong.

"My father's a lawyer, you know, Hugh," he went on to say, "and I've heard him say circumstantial evidence has hanged many an innocent man. We ought to go mighty slow about believing Owen guilty without better proof than his having been in the house on both occasions."