A CAD’S PUNISHMENT
The hotel at which Mabel had been stopping with the rest of the party
was in a quiet residential section not far from the suburbs, and Joe
had almost reached it at the time of the encounter. There was little
traffic here to interfere with the chase, and in a few minutes pursuer
and pursued had cleared the outskirts and were in the open country.
Joe caught a glimpse of Fleming looking back and saw that the latter
knew he was being followed, a knowledge which was followed by a sudden
quickening in the pace of Fleming’s car.
It was, evidently, a powerful machine, and despite Joe’s utmost efforts
the gap between the two cars kept constantly widening.
Joe had had a good deal of experience in handling automobiles during his
big league career, and was a cool and skilful driver. But the utmost
exertion of his skill could avail little when he had an inferior car
pitted against one which greatly exceeded it in horse power.
His heart was in his mouth as he saw how recklessly Fleming was
speeding. His car seemed to be on two wheels only as he took the curves
in the road.
How Mabel came to be in that car was a question that could wait for an
answer till later. The only thing that mattered now was that she was
there with a man she dreaded and despised, and her frenzied waving told
Joe that she was in mortal fear and looked for him to help her.
Jim sat perfectly still without saying a word. Nothing must distract Joe
for a second from that car and the view of the road ahead. He knew what
nerves of steel were back of the sinewy hand that clutched the wheel. He
had grasped the meaning of the chase, and he shared with his friend the
determination that the cad in the car ahead should pay dearly for this
escapade.
Suddenly Joe gave an exultant cry.
As they turned a curve, he saw that a railroad crossing lay ahead and
that the gates were down, while a long freight train was lumbering
leisurely by.
Fleming could not get past till the gates were raised, and by that time
Joe would be upon him.
There was no cross road between him and the track into which Fleming’s
car could escape. His enemy was trapped.
“You’ve got him, Joe!” exclaimed Jim, with a thrill of exultation in his
voice.
“Yes,” Joe gritted between his teeth. “I’ve got him.”
And his tone would not have reassured Beckworth Fleming.
Fleming’s car had halted and Fleming himself had jumped out and run
wildly to the gate, looking up the track to see if the train was nearly
by. He saw at a glance that it would not have passed before Joe would be
upon him.
From the other side of the car, Mabel had leaped as soon as it had
stopped. She came running back up the road, and Joe, who had stopped,
rushed forward and took her in his arms. She was sobbing with fright and
excitement, and Joe held her close as he tried to soothe her.
Fleming saw that the game was up and promptly darted off into the wood
at the side of the road.
“After him, Jim!” cried Joe. “Don’t let him get away!”
Jim darted after the fugitive. Fleming put on all possible speed, but he
was no match for the seasoned athlete, and a moment later Jim’s muscular
hand had him by the collar.
“Let me go,” snarled the wretch, struggling desperately.
“Come along,” growled Jim, dragging him to the spot in the road where
Joe was comforting Mabel, who was gradually getting back some of her
self-control.
The tender look in Joe’s eyes was replaced by one of a different
character as he looked at the flushed, dissipated face of the man who
stood before him, still held by Jim.
“Now, Mr. Beckworth Fleming, I have an account to settle with you.”
Fleming shrank back as far as Jim’s grip would let him before the steely
look in Joe’s eyes.
“Don’t be afraid,” said Joe, contemptuously. “I’m not going to thrash
you in the presence of a lady.”
Relief came into Fleming’s face.
“It was only a lark,” he began, but Joe cut him short.
“I don’t care for any explanations,” he said. “I want you to go down on
your knees in the road and beg Miss Varley’s pardon.”
Fleming looked around for some means of escape but found none. His
furtive glance at Mabel fell before the scorn in her eyes.
“I apologize,” he jerked out sullenly.
“Down on your knees, I said,” remarked Joe with dangerous calmness.
Fleming hesitated before this last humiliation, but Jim’s knuckles in
his neck decided him.
“I beg your pardon,” he muttered, getting down on his knees and
scrambling again to his feet as hastily as possible.
“And now, Jim,” Joe continued, “if you’ll just take Mabel up the road a
little way around that curve, I’ll finish this little account with Mr.
Fleming.”
Fear sprang into Fleming’s eyes.
“You said you wouldn’t,” he began.
“I said I wouldn’t thrash you in the presence of a lady, and I’m going
to keep my word,” said Joe, imperturbably. “Please, Jim.”
He relinquished Mabel to his friend, and Jim assumed the responsibility
with a cheerful grin.
“Don’t hurt him, Joe,” Mabel urged, hesitatingly.
“I won’t kill him, Mabel,” Joe answered. “I only want to impress a few
things on his memory so firmly that he’ll never forget them.”
Jim gently urged Mabel out of sight beyond a curve two hundred feet away.
When they had vanished, Joe turned to Fleming.
“Take off your coat,” he ordered curtly.
“What are you going to do?” asked Fleming, fearfully. “I warn you that
if you hit me----”
“Take off your coat,” repeated Joe, setting him the example.
As Fleming still hesitated, Joe reached over and slapped his face
lightly.
“You seem to need a stimulant to get you going,” he taunted.
Even a rat will fight when cornered, and Fleming, with an exclamation of
rage, threw off his coat and rushed furiously at Joe.
The latter met him with an uppercut that shook him from head to foot.
Then he sailed into Fleming and gave him a most thorough thrashing. Nor
did he let up until Fleming with a highly decorated face lay helpless in
the road, sobbing with shame and rage and whining for mercy.
“I guess that’s enough for the present,” said Joe, who had not a mark on
him, as he resumed his coat. “You’d better get into that car of yours
and drive home before your eyes are entirely closed. And remember that
this isn’t a circumstance to what you’ll get if you ever dare to speak
to Miss Varley again.”
He turned his back upon the discomfited cad, and, jumping into the
runabout, drove around the curve where he rejoined Mabel and Jim.
“Did you impress those things on his memory?” asked Jim with a grin.
“I don’t think he’ll forget them in a hurry,” Joe laughed, though rather
grimly. “And this time, luckily, there was no policeman handy.”