The Boxcar Children Mysteries: Books One through Twelve (70 page)

“I got it from the Bean family. After Andy skipped out, they didn’t want to see this gun. They were going to throw it away. So I said to give it to me. It’s been on that shelf ever since. Going on fifty years! I never clean it any more.”

Then Henry gave the gun to Jessie. She said, “This ought to be in a museum.”

Henry said, “Now who did you say was the oldest person here? Grandpa Cole?”

“I didn’t tell you about Grandpa Cole. Must have been my son.”

“It was Sim’s wife,” said Violet. “She said he was almost a hundred years old. Where does he live?”

“Could we go and call on him?” asked Mr. Alden. He never wanted to waste words.

“Well, you could. He’d sure be surprised. Nobody ever calls on him now. He’s too old. He just talks about the past,” said Mr. Morse.

“Well,” said Grandfather, “we want him to talk about the past.”

“He will,” said Mr. Morse laughing. “Go back on this road, past your own farm, and Grandpa Cole lives in the next house. A little white house with a white fence around it.”

The station wagon was soon on the road again. They went past their own house with the ladders still up on the roof. Then they saw the small white house with the white fence. They all got out.

“I hope we won’t scare him,” said Benny. “So many strangers.”

Mr. Cole was not scared. He was very much pleased. He came out in the yard and told them to sit down on the benches. A nice motherly lady came out and helped him into an easy chair.

“We won’t stay very long, Mr. Cole,” began Grandfather.

“Call me Grandpa,” said the old man.

“Very well.” Grandfather Alden smiled. “We want to ask you some questions, but we don’t want to tire you.”

“You won’t tire me. Stay as long as you can,” said Grandpa Cole. “I don’t get many visitors, and I like visitors.”

“That’s good,” said Benny. “This is very important.”

“What’s that?” asked Grandpa Cole. “Important? What can I tell you?”

Grandfather began again. “I know you have heard the story of the old gun that Andy Bean had.”

“Yep. An old flintlock. He set a big fire with that flintlock, and then he skipped out.”

“Well, this is what we want to know,” said Mr. Alden leaning forward. “Where did that gun come from?”

“Where did that gun come from? Well, that’s easy. It came from the farmhouse you just bought for yourself! Somebody gave it to Andy. Now that’s another story. I don’t know exactly who it was, but it was somebody hiding in your house!”

“Hiding? Why?” asked Benny.

“I don’t know that, and I’m sure Andy’s brother who has the farm doesn’t know either. He wouldn’t talk about it anyway. But I can tell you who does know.”

“Who?” cried everybody at once.

“My brother. He is only 92 years old and I am 99. He was younger than I was, and he would remember better.”

“What is his name?” asked Henry.

“Well, Cole. Only he is John Cole and nobody calls him grandpa.”

“Where is he now?” asked Jessie eagerly.

“In New York. He lives in the city in the winter. He comes up here in the summer. He’ll be here in a few weeks. Maybe in a few days. I lose track of the time.”

Violet said to Jessie, “Maybe he’ll be here when we come up to stay. Then we can ask him. That will be after Aunt Jane comes, too.”

Grandpa Cole didn’t know anything more. But as Henry said, every little bit helps.

The Aldens thought Grandpa Cole was beginning to look tired. It was time to go.

“Well, thank you,” said Mr. Alden. He got up and shook hands with the old man. “The children will come up soon to get the house ready for my sister Jane.”

“Yes, I heard all about it,” said Grandpa. “I hope she gets along all right in that house.” He shook his head.

“We’re going to live there too this summer,” said Benny. “We’re going to visit Aunt Jane.”

“Come and see me,” said Grandpa Cole.

As they rode back to their own farm, Mr. Alden said, “I think we might as well go home now. We can’t do anything more.”

“Don’t you have to talk to Sim and tell the men what to do?” asked Benny.

“No, I told them already,” said Grandfather.

So the family said good-by to their new friends and went back home.

In a few weeks Grandfather had a telephone call that the house was done. Jessie and Violet were ready with curtains for the windows. They had sheets and blankets and towels and lots of other things.

It took many trips to load the station wagon. And when everything was packed in, there was hardly room for Watch to ride along.

John Carter flew out to get Aunt Jane. Sam and his wife, who worked for her, had already started to drive East in their car. Maggie, however, came along with Aunt Jane.

How excited Aunt Jane was when she saw the farm where she had been born. Of course Aunt Jane was really the Alden children’s great-aunt. She and Grandfather were sister and brother.

Tiny and lively, Aunt Jane moved quickly, just as her brother did. Now her cheeks were pink and her eyes danced as she looked around her new home.

“James,” she cried, “you always surprise me. How did you ever get this farm back?”

“Very easily,” said Grandfather. “Nobody wanted it, Jane.”

“Well, I want it,” said Aunt Jane. “I will be very happy here. Maggie will like it, too. And what a fine summer we will have with all the children!”

“And Watch,” said Benny.

The girls and Maggie made the beds, put food in the refrigerator and new dishes in the kitchen. They brought a toaster and a coffee percolator for Mr. Alden.

Sam and his wife arrived. Sam got busy right away. He bought chickens from a neighbor. He fixed up the hen house. The farm became a busy place.

After a week Mr. Alden went back to work. But Aunt Jane, Maggie, and the four children stayed. They felt as if they had always lived on the old farm.

S
oon everyone in town knew the four young Aldens. They went everywhere.

One morning Benny went over to the Bean farm. He met Mr. Bean, Andy’s brother, and Mrs. Bean. They were glad to see Benny and told him to come often. But they never said a word about Andy, the older brother who had run away.

At lunch Benny said, “Here’s something funny. You know the Beans raise eggs.”

“They raise hens, Benny,” said Jessie smiling.

“Well, anyway, they
sell
eggs. And every day about three eggs are gone.”

“How do you know, old fellow? How do the Beans know?” asked Henry.

“Well, Mrs. Bean told
me,”
said Benny.

Violet laughed and said, “Henny Penny told
me.
”

“No, really,” said Benny. “No fooling. You ought to see the list of eggs. They have a paper in the kitchen. It’s on the wall. Every time they put down how many eggs they get.” Everyone waited, smiling at Benny.

Benny went on. “Well, this is how the numbers go: 35 the first day, then 36, 34, 35, 35. You see—always about 35 eggs? Then one day suddenly it’s like this: 32, 31, 33, 31, 30. See? Somebody’s stealing eggs.”

“Imagine that!” said Aunt Jane. “This is a very honest town.”

“A mystery!” said Henry. “The Case of the Stolen Eggs!”

Jessie laughed at Henry’s joke, but Benny was serious.

“We’ve been everywhere in this town except the woods,” said Benny. “Let’s go up to the woods today.”

“Well, you can go if you wish,” said Aunt Jane. “But these woods are not as interesting as the ranch. In the fall you can find nuts. But there is nothing there now except the brook and the old woodshed.”

The boys looked interested just the same.

“Woodshed?” asked Henry. “Why did they put a woodshed so far away from the house?”

“A good question, Henry,” said Aunt Jane, much pleased. “They used to cut down the enormous trees. Then they cut them up right where they fell. They used to fill that woodshed with new wood. Sometimes they left it for a year to season. The woodshed kept the snow off.”

“It burns better when it’s old,” said Benny.

“Oh, much better. Green wood will hardly burn at all.”

The day was hot. The children walked slowly up the hill to the woods.

Violet stopped to pick a few flowers. She said, “Aunt Jane loves flowers.”

The Aldens knew the names of many wild flowers. Violet picked a few pink lady’s-slippers, a jack-in-the-pulpit, and some white foamflowers.

“I see the old woodshed,” said Benny. “It isn’t much.”

“No,” said Jessie. “It’s just a woodshed. Aunt Jane told you that.”

At last they stood in front of the woodshed. They looked at it.

“No windows,” said Benny. “If it had windows it would be a fine playhouse.”

Henry pushed the door open. He looked in. It was dark inside. He looked again.

“This is strange,” he said. “You look, Jessie.”

Jessie put her head in the door.

“Somebody lives here!” she cried.

“Let me see!” shouted Benny. Then they all went inside.

“I don’t see a thing,” said Violet.

“Wait a minute, Violet,” said Henry. “Your eyes will get used to the dark.”

“A table!” cried Benny. “And a bench under it!”

It was true. A small table stood in the corner with a bench under it. On the table were two old plates, a cup, and a fork and spoon.

“No knife,” said Benny. “I bet somebody has a knife right in his pocket.”

“There is no food, either,” said Jessie.

“Yes, there is, Jessie! Look up!” Violet was excited.

Sure enough, there was a shelf over the table. On it was a wide shingle and four cans of food. There were beef and ham and canned string beans and peas.

“What do you know!” said Henry. “We must tell Sam about this. I don’t think we’d better tell Aunt Jane.”

“Do you think it would scare her?” Benny asked.

“I’m afraid so,” said Henry. “What do you think, Jessie?”

“I don’t know. Let’s tell Sam first anyway.”

While they talked, Violet looked carefully around the one room.

“There must be a bed,” said Violet. “I don’t see one.”

But Watch did. He had found the bed easily and was lying on it.

“Sometimes I think that Watch can see in the dark,” said Violet. “It’s just a blanket on some hay. I wonder where the hay came from?”

“Maybe from some barn,” said Henry. “Plenty of hay around here.”

Then they saw the egg. It was behind the cans.

“An egg!” shouted Benny. “I told you somebody was stealing eggs. This is where the eggs go! Three every day! A mystery!”

“Two mysteries,” said Henry. “Who takes the eggs and who lives here?” Then he turned around suddenly. “Let’s go,” he said.

They all knew why Henry wanted to go. He thought the man who lived in the woodshed might come along. And he did not want Violet to feel frightened.

Violet left in such a hurry that she forgot her wild flowers on the little table.

When they reached home, they found Sam very busy indeed with his new chickens.

They lost no time in telling Sam about the woodshed and what they had found inside it. They tried to get Sam to help them guess who might be making the woodshed a home. It seemed like such an odd thing for anyone to do.

Sam looked at the Aldens and shook his head. They were always getting mixed up in something.

“I can’t come now,” he said. “That woodshed won’t run away.”

“Don’t you believe us?” asked Benny. “We all saw it.”

“Sure I believe you,” Sam said. But he laughed. “It could be a playhouse,” he said.

“Whose playhouse?” asked Benny.

“Well, any of the neighbors,” said Sam. “There must be lots of children in the town.”

They decided not to tell Aunt Jane. They could tell her later. They had to wait because Sam would not go until after lunch.

“Where are you all going?” Aunt Jane asked.

“We want Sam to see that woodshed!” Benny said. “It looks like Abraham Lincoln’s log cabin.”

Aunt Jane said nothing. But she knew something was going on. Maggie knew, too.

“It beats all, Miss Jane,” said Maggie. “Those four always find such interesting things.”

“So they do, Maggie. They’ll tell us when they get ready.”

Sam walked slowly up the hill. Benny danced on ahead with Watch.

“You’ll soon see for yourself, Sam,” he said.

They reached the woodshed. Benny pushed the door wide open. “Go right in, Sam, and look around.”

Sam went in and stood still.

“I don’t see a thing,” he said.

“Wait,” called Violet. “Your eyes have to get used to the dark.”

But still Sam could not see anything. The four went inside and looked around.

“What! What!” cried Benny.

The woodshed was empty. There was no bed, no table, no bench, no food. Nothing at all.

“No egg,” said Benny softly.

Henry looked at Sam. “But they really were here, Sam. We all saw them. You’ll have to believe me.”

“I do believe you,” said Sam. “Now what next? What’ll you do?”

Violet said, “We’ll certainly have to tell Aunt Jane now.”

“Yes,” Henry agreed. “That’s what we will do.”