OLD BROADBRIM'S DESPERATE HAND.
"With me, when there is a murderer to catch, everything is fair!"
Such were the words that fell upon Merle Macray's ears when he looked
into the eyes of the tireless tracker in the little room to which he
had led him after the fire at the ranch.
The chamber had been flooded with light by the hand of the hunted man,
but Old Broadbrim had arrested his hand in mid-air, and the revolver
with which he hoped to clear his path had been rendered useless.
Yes, the man who had crossed the ocean on the trail, knew nothing but
success.
With him, as he had said, everything was "fair" when it came to taking
the guilty.
Merle could only look into the calm face of Roland Riggs, so-called,
and curse himself for not putting an end to his career sooner.
A hundred opportunities had presented themselves, but he had let them
slip.
He and Belle Demona had talked over the matter, but had failed in
execution.
Old Danny's trap had failed to hold the man-hunter, and he now knew
that the end of his own career was near at hand.
But he did not despair.
Belle Demona was still between him and the noose, and their guards,
with the exception of Waters, were true.
Old Broadbrim could not take him to Perth, that would be folly, for
one man cannot successfully fight against twenty stalwart Australian
ranchers.
Old Broadbrim continued to clutch Merle's wrist and to look into his
eye defiantly.
He suddenly twisted the weapon from the murderer's hand and thrust him
into a chair.
"Silence, as thee value thy life, man!" he said, bending over his prey.
Merle gave him a look of braggadocia, but did not speak.
"I know what thee is thinking about," continued the Quaker detective.
"This is Ranch Robin; thee thinks thyself safe here."
"You cannot take me away."
"We'll see. In the first place, thee will obey me."
"Proceed. Issue your first command."
Merle was getting back his old courage.
Old Broadbrim did not hesitate.
"Thee will follow me without a single word," said he. "The men are in
the guard house. Thee will proceed with me to the stables spared by the
fire."
"Come! You see how eager I am to obey you," answered Merle. "To the
stables, did you say?"
"Yes."
The Quaker detective, with a cocked revolver in his hand and his keen
eye fastened upon Merle, walked him to the door.
"One break for liberty--one signal to her or any of your men, and the
murder of Custer Kipp will be avenged on Ranch Robin!" said a voice at
Merle's back.
He did not look around to see who had spoken--he knew without that--and
the door was opened.
They stepped into the starlight.
Nothing was seen of Belle Demona, and the sounds of noisy men in the
guard house had died away.
The scene was strangely quiet after the fire, and the total absence of
a living soul save themselves seemed to startle Merle.
"To the stables," whispered Old Broadbrim.
Merle turned in that direction, when all at once a figure stepped from
the path.
Quick as thought the detective turned upon the intruder, but a hand was
thrown up and a voice spoke:
"You have him, I see, Riggs."
"Waters!" cried Old Broadbrim, and Merle lost color.
"You have but little time to lose," continued the young Briton. "The
steeds are in the stable and ready."
A minute later the party gained the stables of the ranch, and Waters
opened the doors.
"Which horse will you ride?" asked Old Broadbrim, turning upon Merle.
There was no reply.
The whole thing seemed a dream to the man who had been tracked from
America.
"Quick! Which horse?" said the detective.
"Whirlwind."
"I'll get him," said Waters, disappearing in the stable, but the next
instant he came back to the door.
"Whirlwind is not here."
Merle seemed to start.
It was a mystery.
"Whirlwind is Belle Demona's horse, and she left the ranch some time
ago."
"Left--Ranch Robin?" cried Merle.
"She rode away like the wind," answered Waters.
The rascal seemed to smile, but selected another horse, which in
a little while was let forth, and he mounted under cover of Old
Broadbrim's pistol.
In the saddle, as he settled himself as if for a dash, he turned to his
captor and said:
"Do you hope to take me out of Australia?"
"What did I track you across the sea for, if I don't intend to hand you
over to American justice?"
The lips of the doomed man met, and his eyes glanced over the long
stretch of starlit barren that lay ahead.
It did not take Old Broadbrim and Waters long to secure their captive
in the saddle, and then, with a last look at the dark structure a few
feet away, they gathered up the reins.
"You got out, I see," observed Merle, for the first time addressing
Dick.
"Yes; the dungeon, strong as it was, did not hold me long. The fire
gave me a good fright, and for a time I thought all was lost, but help
came."
"Help? I thought so. You could not have escaped without it."
There was no reply.
"Who was the traitor?" asked Merle.
"There was no traitor."
"But some one must have betrayed us--you know that, Waters."
The young man looked at Merle and caught the flash that lit up his eyes.
"There is one person whom you seem to have forgotten," was all he said,
and then looked away.
Merle fell into a deep study, during which he was silent.
"I see it now. She helped you," he suddenly cried. "There comes a day
of vengeance. When I am out of your hands, gentlemen, I will show this
sand viper that there is a hand that kills."
Old Broadbrim and Waters exchanged glances.
When he was out of their hands?
That day, if they were not outwitted, would never come; and when Merle
would think of paying Stareyes back for helping Waters to his freedom,
he would be powerless to strike.
With Merle Macray between them, the two man-hunters rode swiftly over
the open.
The stars had come out with unwonted brilliancy, and the whole surface
of the heavens seemed studded with them, like a vast diamond field.
The road to Perth was well defined, and the steeds, which had traveled
it often, knew the way without being guided.
Not for a moment did the captors of the hunted man remove their eyes
from him.
Once Old Broadbrim ventured to break the reverie into which Merle had
fallen, but the glance he got was enough.
"It's been a long trail, sir," said Old Broadbrim.
"You're not at the end of it yet," was the flashed response.
"You took the steamer ahead of me--the _Campania_. I found the clew in
the papers left behind by Jason Marrow, the man killed the same night
of the Fifth Avenue murder."
"His papers?"
"Yes; I know who that man was, and that makes your crime all the
darker."
Merle's face clouded, but he did not speak.
"Jason Marrow was your half-brother, Merle," continued Old Broadbrim.
"He held the secret of your life in Australia; he knew that you had
leagued yourself with Belle Demona, the woman who planned the death of
Custer Kipp, and he wrote out the story of your life and hers, in order
that justice should find your trail if you slew him to render the dread
secret safe. You searched the house near the little alley, after the
second deed. You went from Custer Kipp's house to your brother Jason's.
You found him alone, and the same hand that throttled the millionaire
killed the other."
Merle looked into the detective's face, and for a moment it seemed that
he would deny the charge, but he did not reply.
"It's been a long chase," pursued Old Broadbrim. "Thee might have
checked pursuit in New York."
Merle's look said: "How?" in language not to be misconstrued.
"Thee forgot that the dead might speak and tell the very name under
which thee embarked in the _Campania_. That name fastened the crime
upon thee. I crossed the sea after 'Rufus Redmond,' but all the time I
was looking for Merle Macray."
Once more the fine face above the saddle grew troubled and a baleful
light came into the eyes, but it died away and Merle's countenance
resumed its old appearance.
On, still on, under the stars of the far-off island rode the three men.
Hours passed.
Neither Old Broadbrim nor Waters had relaxed their vigilance.
All the time their ears were strained to catch the sounds of hoofs
behind them.
If they could greet daylight without pursuit they would be safe.
All at once there came over the barren land the very sound they dreaded
to hear.
Merle's face suddenly lighted up with secret joy and his figure seemed
to turn in the saddle.
He knew what it meant.
The men of Round Robin Ranch had discovered the abduction, and were in
pursuit.
Old Broadbrim, cool at all times, was never cooler than now.
He looked at Waters and saw that the young Briton was calm and
collected.
In Waters' hand rested a cocked revolver and his clear, black eye was
watching the prisoner's every quiver.
The three gave their steeds the spur, and the animals, rested a little,
started off like a trio of arrows.
Merle listened with flushed cheeks to the sounds behind, and caught at
last the first streaks of dawn in the eastern sky.
Twenty against three!
He knew how that would go.
"Don't build thy hopes on what's behind us," suddenly said Old
Broadbrim. "It's a sea voyage or death for thee in the saddle. In case
we are overtaken and my papers are not respected by the men of Ranch
Robin, I will leave thee here dead with a bullet in thy brain."
Merle did not reply; but his face grew pale, for he knew the nerve of
the man who had just spoken.