The boy troopers on the trail

Front matter

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° CL^ o c o N

Chapter I. The Brothers

Awakened by a crash, Dick Hazelton sat up in bed and strained his ears. At sound of a second crash, he slipped quickly from between the sheets, slid his feet into a pair of tennis shoes, and, clad only in a pair of pajamas, stole out into the hall.

“Something wrong,” he told himself as he reached the stairs and began to descend. “I've got to investigate.”

Silently reaching the foot of the stairs he paused a moment, trying to locate the place from which the sound came. Even as he stood listening there came another crash as of broken glass, followed by a loud thump.

“Somebody in the parlor,” he muttered. “Sounds like he had overturned the table.”

Cautiously Dick moved along the hall, guiding himself in the darkness by touching the wall.

As he drew close to the parlor door, he caught sight of a ray of light through the keyhole.

“Making himself at home, whoever he is,” said Dick to himself.” I’d better be careful.”

At the door he paused and put his eye to the keyhole. Through it he saw a sight which sent his heart into his mouth. Without hesitation he threw open the door and leaped inside.

“Hold him, Tom!” he shouted. “Fm coming!”

Of two figures struggling on the floor, one was that of his elder brother.

On top of him was a desperate appearing man, who was using all his strength to seize his brother by the throat.

Stirred to renewed effort by Dick’s sudden entrance — which for the moment also startled his opponent — Tom Hazelton made a desperate effort and threw off his enemy.

“Get out of here, Dick.” he cried as he sprang to his feet, “I can handle this fellow! It’s no place for you!”

The words had scarcely left his mouth when his adversary again sprang at him.

In another instant they were engaged in a fierce struggle.

Now Dick had all the confidence in the world in his brother’s ability to take care of himself in a rough and tumble. Nevertheless he stood his ground, ready to lend a hand should the occasion arise.

And presently such an occasion offered itself.

When the two men grappled, it appeared for several seconds that the advantage was with Tom, a stalwart young man of twenty-five, who had proved his ability as an athlete in many ways. Unexpectedly, however, conditions changed.

By a quick movement Tom’s opponent thrust out his right foot. It caught Tom in the back of his knees, and with a strong push sent him staggering.

In vain Tom endeavored to steady himself. He went over backward with a crash and in an instant his adversary was on top of him.

Tom ceased to struggle and lay perfectly still.

Dick instantly detected the cause of his brother’s condition. In falling, Tom’s head had struck the edge of the table and for the moment the stranger . in the Iiazelton house was master of the situation.

But it was for a moment only.

.With a cry of anger, Dick sprang to the table, seized a heavy paperweight and, before Tom’s opponent could protect himself, brought his improvised weapon down upon the man’s head with all the force he could put into the blow.

The struggle was over. It had ended so suddenly that Dick stepped back aghast. For a moment he shuddered at thought of what he had done; but it was for a moment only.

Stooping down he dragged the body of his victim aside and then knelt beside his brother.

Already consciousness was returning to Tom and; directly he sat up and rubbed his head. His eye fell on the prostrate form of his late adversary.

“Hello,” he said. “So I did for him before I went under, eh? Guess it’s a good thing I did or he would have got away while I was lying here unconscious.”

“Well,” said Dick briefly, “you want to thank me that he’s still here.”

“That so?” asked Tom. “What did you have to do with it.”

“I walloped him with this paperweight,” replied Dick, indicating the weapon, which he had replaced on the table.

“Jove!” said Tom, getting to his feet. “Is that so? You must have walloped him pretty hard.”

“Seems to me that was the thing to do,” returned Dick.

“So it was,” agreed his brother. “But let’s have a look at him.”

He stooped over, picked the unconscious man up in his arms, and deposited him on a sofa in one corner of the room. Then he examined the wound Dick had inflicted.

“Nothing serious,” was his diagnosis at last. “He’ll come to in a few minutes. Dick, get me some water and a towel.”

Dick followed his brother’s instructions and upon his return helped bathe and dress the man’s head.

“Who is he ? he asked of his brother.

“Name of Tompkins,” was Tom’s reply, “although he’ll probably deny it. He’s wanted in connection with the robbery of the First National Bank in Johnstown. I learned there yesterday that he had headed for Harrisburg and trailed him. I ran across him on Market street tonight and followed him across the bridge. He was headed this way so I waited until we were almost here before nailing him.”

“How’d he get in the house?” Dick wanted to know.

“I’m coming to that. When I grabbed him he seemed quiet enough. I brought him in here to phone for the patrol wagon and while I was at the phone he tackled me. I guess you heard the rest of it.”

“I did,” said Dick, “and a good thing for you, too.”

“Right you are, youngster; but our man is coming to again. We’ll see what he has to say.”

He sat down and eyed his prisoner as the other slowly sat up on the sofa.

"‘Well, Tompkins, how do you feel? ,, he asked.

The other scowled.

“My name’s not Tompkins,” he growled, “but my head hurts.”

“It should,” agreed Tom. “My kid brother here dropped a paperweight on it. A little pain naturally follows such a proceedure.”

The man called Tompkins glared at Dick.

“I’ll remember that,” he threatened. “I’ll repay you with interest some day.”

Dick smiled.

“My address’ll be the same for some years, I guess,” he replied. “Look me up when you come to town again, though I don’t think you’ll return soon.”

“Right again, youngster,” said Tom with a laugh. “For the next few years I believe the address of our friend Tompkins will be the state penitentiary; so when he pays his hetum visit I guess you’ll be big enough to take care of yourself.”

“I’m big enough for that now,” declared Dick.

Tom shrugged.

“Don’t get cocky, youngster,” he advised. “You’re only a bantam as yet and you’re ’way out of your class. Now, you stay here and watch this fellow. I’ll phone for the patrol wagon.”

He stepped into the hall.

But again it appeared that Tom had reckoned without his host — had counted his chickens before they were hatched.

Hardly had Tom stepped from the parlor than Tompkins came suddenly to his feet and made a rush at Dick.

“No you don't,” said Dick, and dodged.

Tompkins made no second effort to reach the lad. Instead, he stepped quickly across the floor and smashed in the front window pane with a single blow of his fist. Before Dick could again seize the paperweight, which quick thought prompted him to hurl after the fugitive, the man jumped through the window into the darkness.

“Quick, Tom!” shouted Dick. “He’s gone!”

And without thought of the danger he might encounter without, he leaped through the window after him.

By the time Tom could return to the parlor, both Tompkins and his brother had disappeared. Tom uttered an angry exclamation.

“That kid’ll get into trouble, sure,” he told himself; “and it’s my fault. I had no business leaving them alone. Well, I’ll have to catch them; that’s all.”

He followed the others through the window.

When Dick stepped upon the porch Tompkins was descending the porch steps four at a time. At the bottom, he wheeled and dashed down Crescent street toward Oak.

Dick followed him.

“Hi there !” the lad shouted. “Stop!”

The fugitive only seemed to run the faster.

Dick sprinted, and gained on Tompkins. Then he slowed down again.

“I can't tackle him,” he told himself. “He’d make mincemeat of me. Guess I’ll just keep him in sight.”

Behind him Dick heard his brother’s footsteps as Tom joined the chase, and knowing that assistance was close at hand, he sprinted again.

Across the long curved bridge over the Pennsylvania railroad tracks ran pursuers and pursued. At the foot of the bridge Tompkins turned abruptly and dashed into the railroad yards.

“By George! We’ll lose him here if we don’t look sharp,” was Dick’s muttered exclamation. “If a train should come along now, and should come between us — ”

And what the lad feared came to pass.

There came the blast of a locomotive whistle and a fiery eye gleamed in the darkness close at hand.

Tompkins crossed the track ahead of the engine by a desperate spring, and was shut from Dick’s view by a roaring string of freight cars.

For a moment Dick hesitated. Then, with a cry over his shoulder to his brother, he grasped the rail of a passing car and swung aboard. It was the matter of a moment to crawl across the car, and a moment later the lad dropped to the ground on the other side.

Tom, who had seen his brother's action, exclaimed :

“Confound that youngster. He'll be killed sure."

He ran alongside the train, prepared to swing aboard himself.

Chapter II. On The Trail

Richard Hazelton, at the time this story opens, was a lad of fifteen. All his life he had lived in Harrisburg, the capital city of Pennsylvania. At the time this story opens he had just completed his third year in high school.

It was the month of June, and Dick had just started in upon his summer vacation.

Despite his lack of years, Dick was well developed physically. In stature he had almost reached his full growth, being only a couple of inches under six feet. He was sturdy and strong.

Always athletically inclined, Dick had reached a point where he could hold his own with boys farther advanced in years in a rough and tumble, or with his fists. In fact, he had often expressed the belief that there were few among his brother Tom's friends with whom he would be afraid to take issue.

Ever since Dick had been large enough to face his brother, the two, had very frequently engaged in boxing and wrestling bouts. Of course Dick was no match for Tom in either sport, although as the years passed he grew harder and harder for Tom to master.

Dick’s particular chum and classmate was Ralph Harkness. Ralph, the day following the closing of school, had gone to Pittsburgh to visit his aunt and uncle. There Dick was to join him the following week. The two boys planned to spend at least a month in the “Smoky City” before returning home to complete their vacation.

Dick’s father and mother were in Washington. Mr. Hazelton, who owned one of the city’s smaller drygoods stores, had gone east to buy goods and was returning by way of the nation’s capital. With Mrs. Hazelton, he was spending several days in Washington.

Dick’s brother Tom was a member of the Pennsylvania State Police — or the Mounted Constabulary — as the force was more familiarly known to the people of the state. Graduating from college several years before, he had chosen to devote the next period of life to running down the lawbreakers in the state — this in spite of his father’s protests. Mr. Hazelton, for a short time, had been insistant that Tom go into his store and learn the business which would be turned over to him some day.

But Tom had been adamant, so his father had at last given his consent.

In the line of duty, Tom was absent from home most of the time, but upon the rare occasions where he spent a few days in Harrisburg he was wont to regale Dick with such thrilling stories that Dick himself had often expressed the desire to follow in his brother’s footsteps.

But to all such talk, Mr. Hazelton turned a deaf ear; Tom also advised strongly against it.

‘It’s a great life,” he often said, “but one member of the Hazelton family in the troop is enough.”

“Then,” said his father, “you do wrong to relate these so-called thrilling stories to Dick.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” replied Tom. “He likes to hear ’em. I guess he’ll forget ’em by the time he is old enough to think seriously of what he wants to do.”

But in this, as Dick knew, his brother was wrong.

Now, the Pennsylvania mounted police — state troopers they are often called — is perhaps one of the most famous bodies of men in the United States. For years they have been the terror of lawbreakers in the Keystone state, over which they roam, north, east, south and west, — either on horseback, or, of later years, on motorcycles. A systematic patrol is maintained continually. For efficiency in patrol work, the state is divided into sections, to each of which a troop is assigned, all acting under orders from state headquarters.

The headquarters of Troop G to which Tom Hazelton was attached, was located at Lancaster, but at the time this story opens Tom had been detailed to the special assignment of helping to discover and arrest the men who had been implicated in the robbery of the First National Bank of Johnstown.

Of course, search for the culprits was being made in other parts of the state; but word having been flashed to troop headquarters in Lancaster that the men had been heard of in that section. Captain Mahon of Troop G had assigned Tom to the case as the best man for this particular kind of work.

The trail was now almost a week old, as already narrated, Tom had been successful in picking it up in Johnstown and (had followed his quarry to Harrisburg, with the result as seen. Now, as he swung

ON THE TBAIL aboard the freight train that separated him from Tompkins and Dick, he determined to take no further chances with the fugitive, should fortune again deliver him into his hands.

When Tom dropped to the ground on the other side of the train, Dick, safe despite the speed the train was making when he swung from it, was again running rapidly after Tompkins, whom he could see some distance down the track.

“Dm going to tackle him regardless of consequences, if I can come up with him,” Dick panted under his breath as he dashed along in the semidarkness. “Hello! There he goes across the tracks. I’ll have to look sharp or I’ll lose him if another train comes along.”

He increased his pace and gained on the fugitive.

A moment later Tompkins swerved abruptly and ran toward the not-far-distant passenger station.

Despite the best effort Dick could put forth, the man reached the station and climbed aboard a train that was just moving out, before Dick could come up with him.

With a last effort Dick spurted for the train and reached it only to have the vestibule closed in his face.

Dick paused, helpless.

“Now, that’s what I call tough luck,” he dedared as the train slid by him, gradually gaining momentum.

But there was nothing the lad could do. He turned and retraced his steps, and presently, in the darkness beyond the train shed, espied Tom, making toward the station as rapidly as possible.

“Where’d he go?” demanded Tom, stopping beside his brother.

“Hopped a train,” replied Dick. “I tried to get aboard, but he closed the vestibule in my face.”

“Which way?” asked Tom.

“West; on the Pittsburgh express, I think.”

“He can’t get off this side of Altoona, then,” declared Tom. “I’ll wire ahead and have him nabbed there. Come on.”

He led the way quickly toward the telegraph office in the station waiting room, where he dispatched the following message :

“Chief of Police,

“Altoona, Pa. — Rodney Tompkins, wanted Johnstown National Bank robbery due Altoona aboard Pittsburgh express at 1 1 :40. Arrest and hold. Grey suit, black shoes, panama hat. Smooth face. Forty years old. Hazelton, Pennsylvania mounted.”

“There,” he said after passing the message to the operator, “that ought to get him.”

“And what are you going to do?” demanded Dick.

“Catch the next train and go after him,” was Tom’s reply.

Then as he raised his eyes and took a good look at Dick, he burst into a laugh.

“Say youngster !” he exclaimed, “don’t you think it would be a pretty good idea for you to go home and get into bed before daylight. Pajamas are all right for chasing burglars in the dark, but they don’t look very well about a railway station.”

Dick joined in the laughter.

“I had clean forgotten what I had on in the excitement,” he said. “It’s a mighty good thing I happened to slip on my tennis shoes, I’d have had hard running over the cinders if I’d been barefooted.”

He started to leave the station and then stopped in his tracks. He had been struck with a brilliant idea.

“Say, Tom,” he exclaimed as he slowly retraced his steps, “what’s the matter taking me along with you to Altoona?”

“What? In that garb?”

“Oh, I’ve plenty of time to go home and dress before train time.”

“But what’s the idea?” insisted Tom.

“Well,” replied Dick, “I’ve been mixed up in this case a little bit and I’d like to see it through.”

“And what do you think Dad would have to say about it?” demanded Tom with a smile.

“I guess he’d object if he were here,” was Dick’s answer. “But fortunately he’s not. Come on now, Tom.”

For a moment Tom turned the matter over in his mind.

“I guess it won’t hurt anything,” he decided at last. “Tompkins will be safe enough when we get there, and all I’ll have to do is to take him on to Johnstown in the morning. If there were any danger attached I would say no on the instant, but I guess there is nothing to be afraid of.”

“I know there isn’t,” agreed Dick.

“All right, then. I’ll get you a ticket.”

While waiting for the next train, the two repaired to the Hazelton residence where they did full justice to rather an elaborate meal out of the icebox. Two hours later found them aboard a train speeding toward Altoona, which they were due to reach shortly after 2 o’clock in the morning.

Despite the fact that it was far beyond his bedtime hour, Dick was so excited by the events of the past few hours that he was unable to follow his brother’s example and sleep. He turned the affair over in his mind until the brakeman called, “Altoona!”

“Well,” here we are,” said Tom, just as though he had been awake all the time. “Let's get out."

They moved to the platform and waited until the train stopped. Alighting a moment later they made their way through the deserted streets from the station to the Colonial hotel, several blocks away.

“Might as well get fixed up for a few hours sleep," Tom explained. “Then we’ll go to police headquarters, see that they have our man safely, and turn in. I’ll leave him in a cell overnight, and take him on in the morning. You can go home then."

“Can’t I go to Johnstown with you, so I can have company on the way back home ?’’ asked Dick.

Tom shook his head.

“I think not, he replied. “It’s entirely possible that after I reach Johnstown I’ll be ordered to report some place else. I may not get back to Harrisburg for a week."

With this Dick was forced to be content.

The two brothers were shown to a pleasantly appointed room.

“Suits us for to-night, I guess," remarked Tom. “Eh, Dick?"

“Right, Tom," Dick agreed.

“Then we’ll go to headquarters," said Tom, “unless you’d rather turn in?" and he looked at Dick inquiringly.

“Not much,” said Dick decisively. “Pm going to stick on this case just as long as I can.”

“All right, youngster,” rejoined Tom. “Come on, then.”

It was only a short walk to headquarters, Dick entered close on Tom’s heels.

“Chief in?” inquired Tom of the desk sergeant.

“At this hour?” demanded the sergeant. “Not likely.”

“I’m Hazelton of the mounted,” Tom went on. “Wired from Harrisburg about the Johnstown bank robbery a few hours ago. Did you get my man ?”

Tom stepped back in dismay at the sergeant’s reply.

“Nope,” he said. “We nailed him, all right, but he gave my men the slip in the yards !”

Chapter III. The Trail Leads To Pittsburgh

Tom sat down abruptly in the nearest chair. The desk sergeant grinned.

“Don’t take it so hard,” he admonished. “Accidents will happen, you know.”

“So I perceive,” said Tom dryly. “Why didn’t you catch him?”

“Tried,” said the sergeant, “ but you know it’s pretty dark in those yards. Man with a little start can disappear pretty quick.”

“The thing I don’t see,” said Tom, “is just how he got that start. Why didn’t you get him before he got off the train?”

“We had him,” declared the sergeant, “but maybe you’ll tell me what to do when a man goes through a car window?”

“Go after him,” said Tom.

“Trouble is we don’t have that kind of men on the force,” said the desk sergeant. “My men are more or less given to avoirdupois. Neither are they noted for speed, and by the time they could get out the door, your man had disappeared. It’s too bad !”

“So it is,” Tom agreed, “but it can’t be helped now. You don’t have any idea where he went?”

“No; but the chances are he’ll hop a freight tonight, though it’s possible he may lie around until morning.”

“All right, sergeant,” said Tom. “Much obliged just the same. Come, Dick, we may as well turn in.”

In spite of himself during Tom’s conversation with the sergeant, Dick had felt his spirits rising. He was perfectly well aware of the fact that he should sympathize with his brother in his misfortune; but he simply could not do it.

“It’s not over after all,” he kept telling himself. “Maybe I won’t have to go right home.”

Nevertheless he said nothing of these thoughts to his brother as they walked back to their hotel, and he went to bed still thinking of Tompkins and the possibility that he might remain longer “on the trail.”

As Dick slept he dreamed; and his dream had to do with Tompkins, and other law breakers. When he awoke with the sunlight streaming in his eyes it was with the lure of the chase still fresh in his mind.

He glanced to the opposite side of the room, where Tom should have been sleeping. Tom was not there.

Dick jumped out of his bed and looked at his watch.

“Eight thirty,” he said. “I should have been up an hour ago. Doesn’t look as though I would make much of a state trooper. Wonder where Tom went, anyhow.”

As he glanced about the room, his eyes fell upon a note on the table. He opened it.

“Gone out for breakfast,” Tom’s message read. “Didn’t want to disturb you. Will be back by 9 : 30 .”

“Guess I’ll go down and eat a bite myself,” Dick told himself.

He dressed and went downstairs. Instead of going into the dining room, he passed out upon the street in search of a restaurant. His footsteps led him toward the station.

“Might as well eat here, I guess,” he muttered, and approached the lunch counter.

And as he did so the sight of a figure just going through the train gate arrested his attention and sent' his heart into his throat.

“Tompkins, or I’m dreaming!” he exclaimed.

Forgotten on the instant was the lad’s hunger. He ran toward the gate and would have passed through had he not been halted by the gateman, who demanded:

“Ticket.”

“Where does that train go to?” demanded Dick.

“Pittsburgh,” replied the gateman. “First stop Johnstown, but you’ll have to have a ticket if you want to get aboard.”

But Dick had not heard his last words. He was dashing toward the ticket office.

Fortunately, Dick always carried a small amount of money with him, and slapping a five dollar bill on the window he called for a ticket to Johnstown.

Then, sweeping the change into his pocket, he hurried back to the train.

“You’ll have to hurry,” said the gateman and

Dick dashed for the train, which already was moving.

Dick found a seat and sat down. For a moment he turned the situation over in his mind.

“He’ll probably get off at Johnstown/’ he reasoned, “but if he doesn’t I’ll have to go on to Pittsburgh. I’m not going to lose sight of him if I can help it. If he gets off at Johnstown I’ll have time to wire Tom. I’ll probably have time even if he doesn’t get off there and can wire Tom I am going on to Pittsburgh. I’ll tell him to hunt me up at Ralph’s uncle’s.”

After the conductor had taken his ticket, Dick bethought himself to make sure that Tompkins was on the train. Pulling his cap well down over his eyes, he moved into the smoking car, thinking to begin his search there.

Dick knew that there was very little possibility of Tompkins recognizing him, but he realized that it was best to be on the safe side. Accordingly he acted with caution.

From the front of the smoking car he walked slowly along the aisle scanning each face as he did so. Toward the rear of the car he saw a figure slumped down in a seat, face half averted. Even at that distance something told him that the man was Tompkins.

Dick was right, as he made certain on closer inspection, taking extreme care that he himself was not observed scanning the other too closely.

“Well, my search has ended, at all events,” the lad told himself. “Now if I can just keep him in sight.”

He sank down in a seat several removed from Tompkins and kept his eyes glued upon the fugitive.

At last the conductor called Johnstown. Dick was instantly on the alert; but Tompkins showed no signs of moving, only huddled down closer in his seat.

“Afraid of being recognized,” Dick muttered. “Well, he's not going to get off here; that's sure.”

From his pocket he produced a notebook and pencil. He scribbled upon a leaf and then tore it out.

“Messengers usually go through the trains here,” he told himself. “But if one doesn't I’m out of luck; and Tom will be worried.”

But fortune was with Dick.

Hardly had the train stopped when a boy in a Blue uniform appeared, crying:

“Telegrams !”

Dick glanced at the message quickly before giving it to the boy with half a dollar.”

“Following Tompkins to Pittsburgh,” it read. “Find me with Ralph,” and gave the Pittsburgh address. “Hurry.”

“There; that’s done,” said Dick as the boy departed with the message. "Now for another long wait.”

Presently the train started again and Dick sank back in his seat. He paid his fare when the conductor came around, and then gave his undivided attention to Tompkins.

But in spite of the best efforts the lad put forth to keep awake, he several times caught himself drowsing; and at last, rocked by the motion of the train and swept by the cooling breeze that came through the open window, he fell asleep.

So the train passed through Latrobe and Greensburg, making stops at both towns, and Dick still slept.

Nearly two hours later the lad came to himself with a start. The brakeman was crying "East Liberty.”

Dick glanced toward where Tompkins had sat. The man was gone. Dick's heart leaped into his throat and he jumped to his feet and dashed to the platform. But as he left the door he stopped suddenly, for there, waiting for the train to stop, was Tompkins.

Dick breathed a sigh of relief.

"Almost lost him,” he muttered.

Gradually the train slowed down and before it could stop Tompkins jumped off and hurried along the platform. Dick, his cap still pulled well down over his eyes, followed him.

Fortunately for Dick, Tompkins must have thought he had eluded all pursuit, for he did not so much as glance around once to see whether he was followed. Dick kept as close behind him as he felt safe.

Tompkins climbed the steps to the street and caught a Frankstown Road car toward Pittsburgh. By a sprint, Dick also managed to get aboard and took a rear seat. Tompkins sat well up in front.

At the Pennsylvania railroad station in Pittsburgh Tompkins alighted. So did Dick.

“Great Scott! Hope he’s not going to get another train,” Dick said under his breath. “I haven’t got money enough to go much farther. Besides, if he gets out of the state we can’t bring him back without a lot of red tape.”

But, as it developed, Dick’s fears were groundless.

The boy followed Tompkins from the station, down the long approach, along Liberty street to Smithfield and thence to Fifth avenue, where Tompkins turned again. Here the chase ended for the moment. Tompkins turned into a restaurant.