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Updated: May 11, 2025
If it were the same car it meant that the gang, feeling that so conspicuous a mark as the J. Jervice car originally presented would be a fatal advertisement of their identity, and yet desirous of making use of the car, had stripped it clean of the betraying top and had taken away everything that could mark it for a peddler's car.
He kept very quiet in his "honey tree" and looked down on them with contempt for both. "Up to some tricks," he muttered to himself. The J. Jervice autowagon was not so very far away, but the two were well out of range of Matt's vision before they reached it. "Now, to begin with," said J. Jervice. "Are you one o' them scouts or ain't you?" "I am," replied Glen. "I'm a tenderfoot." "Tenderfoot, eh!
But be sure you git rid of the kid an' start back so's to git here by midnight." Apple and Chick-chick took up the trail with renewed confidence now that they felt they had only Jervice to reckon with. They had seen him at the scout camp last Sunday and had no great respect for his dimensions or prowess. It was late in the afternoon when first they saw the peddler's car in the road ahead.
"It must be they," said Mrs. Spencer. "They're just the people to take care of a boy that way. We know the Gateses very well and they're the salt of the earth. I wonder you ever had the heart to leave them." Glen told why he had left and then related his further adventures with J. Jervice, his final escape, and his day of dread lest he should be apprehended. "I think I can tell you why Mr.
Glen had no watch, but he went early enough to be quite sure of being there by ten o'clock. Then he waited and waited. He was about to give it up as a hoax, when a man slipped quietly out of the woods and advanced toward him. Glen fell into a position of defense as he saw that it was his old enemy, Jervice. "Now, don't go actin' up," begged Mr. Jervice.
"Well, hurry up and tell about the treasure," urged Glen. "Remember I want to be back by eleven o'clock. You're awfully slow." "I'm comin' to that. Remember this now you mustn't never tell nobody nothink about it." "What do you mean never tell anybody?" asked Glen. "I guess we know as much about it as you do." "You know about it!" Mr. Jervice seemed incredulous. "What do you know about it?"
Spencer nor Glen were to be gratified with a sight of Mr. Jervice immediately, although they were by no means through with him. Later in the evening after Glen had given Mrs. Spencer very efficient aid in helping her crippled son to his bed on the ground floor, she showed the boy up to a cozy little bedroom where he was to spend the night. "Have a good night, son," she said.
"The man's name was J. Jervice and he found five dollars in his clothing before the sheriff had fully clamped his grip. He went away in great wrath, taking with him not only the objectionable license but also the valuable secret which was worth ten dollars easy money. "The honest merchant who has a regular route does not object to the license.
Them scouts will be missin' him when he don't get to his meals an' swarm all over here. You run over to the city it's only twenty-four miles. You ought to be back easy by night. You know who to leave him with." "He's a desperate hard boy to manage," complained J. Jervice with some recollection of previous dealings. "I'm afeared one man can't handle him." The leader laughed significantly.
"I think Jervice carries their kit in his wagon and they depend on him to get their stuff hauled away." "Take away their little old wagon sure will bother 'em." "What would you do with it?" "Turn it round. Run back to Buffalo Center and give sheriff." "All right," agreed Apple. "You'll have to get busy if you want to get it back before dark. I suppose I'll have to ride the motor-bike."
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