"Dance, I say,"--and the sharp swish of a whip was heard.
It took but a second for Sandy to bound into the room. Surprised and
terrified, Foley made a dart for the door, but was met by Gilbert, who,
pistol in hand, held him stock still. In desperation Foley reached for
a club and ran back of the frightened child in the hope that she might
serve as guard against his assailant. Like a flash, Sandy followed, and
knocked the cowardly brute senseless with the barrel of his pistol.
Gilbert ran to his sister, and, taking her up, showered loving kisses
upon her. With her arms clasped about his neck and her head nestling
on his shoulder, she cried:
"Oh, Gil, I'm so glad you've come. I've been waiting all this time for
you. I knew Sandy would come, because he ain't afraid of robbers, or
anybody else, even if he had his hands tied behind him. I've been
praying for you every minute, and here you are." Again Gilbert pressed
his sister to his heart, and kissed her.
Young Foley was still lying unconscious, as the result of the blow he
had received, and Sandy was clutching him tightly by the throat.
"Take yer sister, little codger," said Sandy, "wrap her up, git in the
skiff, an' I'll be with yer as soon as I tie this chuckle-headed idiot
fast and tight."
Gilbert left the hut with Lillian, while the other boy remained long
enough to loosen the rope around his waist, and bind the young ruffian
securely. Then he placed him in a corner of the room. Locking the door
behind him, Sandy joined Gilbert in the skiff, and together they
paddled furiously out of the creek into the river.
The moon was up in all her splendor, and objects on the water were
plainly visible for some distance. Lillian was seated in the bow,
facing the two boys at the paddles. Leander and Dink fell in the wake
of Sandy's skiff, about ten yards in the rear.
As the party reached the middle of the channel, a skiff came into view
from the bend, a short way above, and steered directly toward them.
With a cry, Lillian stood up:
"Oh, Gil, here come those two bad men that took me away."
The boys turned, and they, too, recognized Dennis Foley and Hildey as
the occupants of the approaching boat.
"Lie flat, little one," whispered Sandy, "an' don't move till I tells
yer."
The child obeyed, but already Foley and his partner had espied her, and
it was evident they were using all their efforts to catch up. Leander
now called:
"It's the same gang, Sandy, that came out of the creek. What shall we
do?"
"Paddle fer all ye're worth," was shouted back.
"Hold up, or we'll shoot," yelled Dennis Foley.
With that a pistol-shot was heard coming from the direction of the
pursuers, but the bullet went wide of its mark, and the boys sped on.
"Don't waste yer load unless yer have to," cautioned Sandy, "'cause yer
won't have time to put in 'nother, an' I don't want er draw their fire,
fer fear they might hit Lily."
The race had become one of life and death. The boys strained to the
utmost their strong young muscles, and, with paddles bent almost
double, drove their little craft like the wind before them. Down past
Turtle Creek they flew; Licking Banks were soon left behind, and
shortly, they were alongside the Sycamores. Dink looked back over his
shoulder, and whispered:
"We ain't gained on 'em a bit, an' they seem to be goin' strong."
When the Meadows were reached, Dink said again:
"They're comin' like everythin'."
"Don't weaken," urged Leander; "as long as we're between them and
Sandy's skiff, they'll have to kill us before they can get to Lillian."
The moon was casting its light on the waters like a great silvery path,
and the splashing of the paddles was the only sound that awakened the
echoes. Again came the sharp report of a pistol, and Dink dodged, as if
by instinct. He wheeled in his seat and shot point-blank at Foley, but
the ball imbedded itself in the side of the skiff behind and did no
further damage.
"That's tit for tat," said Dink, "but it wuz a mighty close call fer
me. When the bullet whizzed past my ear I thought I was plugged, sure."
There were now not more than fifteen yards between the boys and their
pursuers. Turning about, Leander saw Hildey raise his pistol and take
careful aim at him. Quick as thought, the boy fired first, and Hildey
uttered a sharp cry of pain, as his right arm fell helpless, and his
pistol dropped into the water.
"Curse the luck!" muttered Foley. "Don't give up, pard; we'll ketch
'em afore they git much further."
Though Hildey's right arm was useless, he plied the paddle with his
left, and the men continued to gain. As the boys passed through under
the bridge, Leander's boat was abreast of Sandy, who whispered:
"I'll take the swash on the right that goes through the big marsh and
comes out at the Devil's Elbow. You hug the channel bank, an' mebbe
we'll fool 'em."
Sandy knew that, after the river left the bridge, it went almost
southerly for half a mile, then made an abrupt turn at right angles,
pursued its way westward for another quarter of a mile, and then met
the swash channel, which cut diagonally through the big marsh. At this
junction of the two streams a whirlpool called the Devil's Elbow had
been formed, a treacherous spot for small craft, and requiring rare
skill to pass in safety.
When Sandy told Leander to take the main channel, it was with a
desperate hope that Foley and Hildey would be in doubt, for the moment,
which skiff to follow as they came out under the bridge. Within
himself, he reasoned that this hesitation, on their part, would consume
sufficient time to permit the boys to gain a lead and reach in safety
the landing, two miles below.
"The chances are jest even-Stephen," he said to Gilbert, "though it
separates us from Leander, till we reach the Devil's Elbow."
But alas! Sandy's reasoning failed him for once this time.
As Foley and Hildey came through under the bridge, the former cried:
"Steer to the right channel an' foller that boat; that's the one the
kid's in."
"They're after us, darn 'em," said Sandy, "but we're gittin' ahead
bully. Keep it up, Gil, an' we'll come out all right, see if we don't."
Dripping with perspiration, and with hands burned and blistered, Sandy
and Gilbert were forging ahead and gaining on their pursuers, straining
every nerve to increase their lead. As they rounded a bend in the
channel, Hildey shouted:
"There's yer chance to plug 'em, pard. Shoot!"
Foley obeyed, and the boys' skiff, which was a metallic one, was bored
through by the pistol ball. The water poured through the hole, and
Sandy shouted to Gilbert:
"Drop yer paddle; take yer hat an' put it over the leak, tight as yer
kin; bale with the other hand, or we'll sink in a minit. Lily, sit up,
so yer won't get wet; but don't show yer head," and with a courage born
of despair, Sandy renewed his efforts.
Foley was gaining rapidly, and it seemed that only a miracle could
prevent the boy's capture before they reached the Devil's Elbow.
Three minutes passed with only the sound of the lightning-like dip of
the paddles. Another short bend in the channel, and a hundred yards
ahead was the confluence of the two currents, which were ever at war.
"Keep on bailing, Gil," cried Sandy, "an' when we git past the Elbow,
if they're too close to us, I'm goin' to use my pistol on 'em, but I
don't want ter shoot till I can make the shot tell fer all it's worth.
Steady, Lily; hold tight, Gil; don't move, I'll git yer through without
swampin', 'cause I knows every current in the Elbow."
Through the mad swirl of waters the boy held his boat, and steered her
into the quiet tide beyond.
Leander and Dink were just turning the bend of the main channel an
eighth of a mile away, and the skiff containing Foley and Hildey had
reached the outer current of the eddy.
"Now you've got 'em," yelled Hildey, as Sandy's skiff veered to the
left, not twenty yards from the other.
"Not if I knows it," cried Sandy as he shot square at Foley, the ball
going through the sleeve of his coat, but leaving him unharmed.
"Curse yer fer a fool!" came from Foley, dropping his paddle and
standing up in the skiff, which now had nothing to guide it but
Hildey's exhausted arm. The skiff was rocking violently. Foley
attempted to balance himself as he raised his pistol to shoot. In a
flash the frail craft was caught in the conflicting currents, it
careened and capsized, and the two men were battling for life in the
whirlpool.
Sandy was so intent on escape that he had gone some distance down
stream before realizing he was no longer pursued. Suddenly an agonizing
cry was borne on the midnight air:
"Help! Help! I'm drownin'!"
The boy rested on his paddle, and scanned the river in the direction of
the voice.
"Don't let's let 'em drown like rats in a hole," said Sandy, and he
started his boat back toward the bend.
"Gil, gimme yer pistol. They may be tryin' to play some trick on us,
an' if they are, we'll be ready for 'em."
The precaution was unnecessary, for when they came near, they saw the
upturned skiff circling around in the eddy, its paddles bobbing with
the waves, and the hats of Foley and Hildey slowly drifting toward the
bank.
Leander and Dink, meanwhile, had come up, and with the other two boys
remained for fully half an hour waiting for some sign of the two
robbers, but in vain; for far beneath the surface of the water in the
maddening current, the ill-spent lives of Foley and Hildey were ended.
They were dead in the cruel embrace of the Devil's Elbow.