Jack Ranger's Western Trip; Or, from Boarding School to Ranch and RangeYoung, Clarence
General
Jack Ranger's Western Trip; Or, from Boarding School to Ranch and Range
Young, Clarence
Adventure stories; Teenage boys -- Juvenile fiction; Western stories
The boys decided this was good advice, particularly as they were
getting chilled, for the halls were draughty. They donned some
clothes, and were all ready when several bluecoats and a number of
detectives in plain clothes arrived.
"Where'd they get in?" asked a big man, with a very black moustache.
"Let's see what sort of a job it was."
"Right in here," said the hotel manager, leading the way to where the
boys roomed. "From all accounts this was the only place he broke
into."
"Didn't really lose anything, did you?" asked the black-moustached
one of the boys.
"He got a valuable card," said Jack. "I would not like to lose it."
"What do you mean, a playing card; one you carried for luck?"
"No, I don't carry such things for luck," replied Jack. "It had a
message on it."
He described the queer bit of pasteboard Mr, Liggins had given him.
"Oh I see; it was a sort of charm," interposed the detective with the
light moustache.
"Well, we'll make a round of the pawnshops tomorrow. Maybe we'll
locate it."
"I don't believe so," said Jack, half to himself. "It's not a thing
that would be pawned."
The boy felt that Professor Punjab would be very likely to keep the
card, thinking it might be some mysterious talisman, which could be
used to advantage in his peculiar line of work. So Jack had little
faith in what the detective said.
There was nothing more for the police or detectives to do. No trace
of the thief was to be found, and, after a general look around, the
officers departed and the hotel settled down to normal quietness. The
boys went back to bed, but it was some time before they fell asleep.
Jack dozed uneasily, wondering how he was going to regain possession
of the card which Professor Punjab had stolen.
"You ought to be thankful it wasn't our money, which it would have
been, only for John," said Nat next morning. "Penetrating peanuts!
When I think of what might have happened I shudder," and he gave an
imitation of a cold chill running down his back.
"It's bad enough," said Jack. "Of course we need the money, but we
could get more on a pinch. We can't get another card like that,
though, and we may need it very much. At least I will."
"Let's go to the police and make them find it," suggested Nat.
"They'll never find it," put in John, who sat in a chair with his
head bandaged. "We'll have to depend on ourselves."
The robbery, and John's slight wound, necessitated a change in their
plans. They wired to Mr. Kent, Nat's uncle, that they would be
delayed. Then they arranged to stay several days in Chicago.
The hotel proprietor insisted on sending a physician, to see the
Indian. The medical man prescribed a rest, and, while John stayed in
his room his chums paid several visits to the police. Jack impressed
them with the value of the card, and the detectives really made
efforts to find it, and to arrest the "professor," but without
result.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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