The Galloping Ghost by Roy J. Snell

Author:Roy J. Snell
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781620138205
Publisher: Duke Classics

Chapter XVII - Johnny's Jimmy

*

In the meantime Red Rodgers, the object of all this activity in a great city, sat at a small table in a cozy cabin on Isle Royale, hundreds of miles away, calmly sipping the broth from a delicious Mulligan stew (which, by the way, is made by cooking up everything you have in the way of meat and vegetables, then adding much sliced bacon and many onions).

The stew was good. The cabin was warm. The hour was late. When Red had emptied his bowl he sat back to nod drowsily.

"It's good to be lazy and comfortable and to do nothing," he murmured. It seemed to him now that he had somehow been drugged. Never before had he felt so little desire for action. "I wish those crooks would leave us alone," he thought to himself. "I wish I could sleep for a week."

But what was this? A voice sounded in the room, a strange voice. And what was this man saying?

"The listening world will be interested to know that while the football star, officially known as the Red Rover—"

"Red—Red Rover." The boy sat up, quite awake now. "Why, that is the radio! They're talking about me. And here I am listening in."

"Yes," the scout chuckled, "that's Chicago. Haven't listened to that station before, or I'd have known. Bet they're broadcasting reports every hour."

"About me?"

"Why not? You're a star."

"A star to-day; to-morrow a steel mill worker. What does one star more or less matter?"

For all that, he sat up and listened with increasing interest as the speaker told of all that was being done to apprehend the kidnapers and return the Rover to his team.

"Good old Drew Lane," he murmured. "He'll get 'em. You'll see."

But after all—. His spirits drooped. After all, what could it matter? He might discover who the kidnapers were. But would he trace them to Isle Royale? Ah, no. That was expecting too much!

He felt a tightening at his throat as he thought of his team mates and the coach, the Grand Old Man, doing their best to stave off defeat. "It's not that I'm so important as an individual," he told himself humbly, "but I'm part of the piece, like one stone in an arch. Without me the team must fail.

"Why am I here?" he cried out suddenly, springing to his feet. "How can I get away?"

"Perhaps you can't," the guide said quietly. "We'll do the best we can.

"Listen!" The guide blew out the lamp, then quietly opened the door. Bing, the dog, uttered a low growl. He was silenced by his master.

From somewhere away off in the dark came a weird, wild call. It was answered here and answered there. Then such a chorus as never before was heard on sea or land rose above the sound of rushing water and sighing pines.

"Wolves," Ed commented briefly. "Bush wolves. Hundreds of 'em on the island. They're all singing to-night. There will be a storm. Listen again.

"There is a little sea to-night. To-morrow it will be raging.

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