AN EXCITING CHASE.
The landlord of the Robin Hood had prevented Brad Buckhart from taking a
flying shot at Miguel Bunol as the reckless young desperado leaped
through the window. Had the Texan fired, being a wonderfully good shot,
it is probable he would have “winged” the Spaniard, at least.
At the destruction of the window the excited landlord threw up his hands
in despair.
The whole house was in an uproar. One or two frightened men came and
peered into the room where the encounter had taken place, while the
cries of frightened women could be heard coming from other parts of the
building.
“What do you mean by such actions in my place?” shouted the enraged and
exasperated landlord, turning on Dick and Brad.
“We’re not responsible any,” retorted Buckhart. “Whatever made you get
in my way and keep me from salting that ornery Spaniard good and
plenty?”
“Out and after him!” cried Dick. “Don’t let him get away!”
“He’ll have to pay for that window!” yelled the landlord.
Then Dick led the rush from the inn. The door was thrown open, and they
ran out beneath the stars.
They were just in time to see the closed carriage, with both horses at a
dead run and the driver mercilessly plying the whip, whirl out of the
yard, turn to the right and go clattering and rattling away on the
frozen road.
A moment later a horseman shot past the opposite corner of the building
and turned to the left.
As he passed the windows from which the light was shining the Texan
caught a glimpse of him.
“There goes the galoot hot foot!” he roared, and flung up his hand to
shoot.
It was Dick who now grasped his arm and prevented him from firing.
“Steady, Brad!” cried Merriwell. “You don’t want the blood of that dog
on your hands!”
“I certain would like to know why!” retorted the excited Texan. “It
would give me a heap of pleasure to bore him for keeps!”
“Let him go and——”
Dick stopped, for from the rattling carriage which had already vanished
beneath the great tress that lined the road came wild cries for help,
which were suddenly broken and checked.
“Great horn spoon!” palpitated the Texan. “Did hear that, pard?”
“I did, and it certainly sounded like the voice of Professor Gunn!”
“Just what I thought. You don’t opine——”
But already Dick was rushing back into the inn, and Brad quickly
followed him. Up the stairs they leaped, assailed by a new feeling of
fear.
The broken door of the professor’s room hung on a single hinge, just as
the Texan had left it. The light of the glowing fire and of a single
candle showed them the comfortable interior of that room, but they saw
nothing of Zenas Gunn.
“Professor——Professor Gunn!” called Dick.
“Where are you? Answer me—answer at once!”
But there was no answer.
“Search, Brad!” urged Dick. “He may have been alarmed by the uproar and
concealed himself. Look on the bed behind those curtains! Look under the
bed! Look everywhere!”
Even as he was urging his friend to do this Dick flung open the door of
a wardrobe and looked within. Then he caught up the candle and hastened
into the adjoining room, looking in every nook and corner, meanwhile
continuing to call to Gunn.
A few moments later the two boys met in the first room and stood face to
face, staring into each other’s eyes.
“Where is he, partner?”
“Gone!” said Dick. “Brad, that was the game!”
“I don’t just rightly see how——”
“First Bunol was to be given a chance at me. If he failed, the professor
was to be captured and carried off. He was in that closed carriage!”
“Sure as shooting!”
“Come!”
The flushed, wild-eyed, excited landlord appeared in the door and
attempted to check them, demanding why they had turned his house into a
Bedlam.
Dick swept him aside.
“No time to explain now!” he declared. “We’ll explain to you later.”
The boys rushed downstairs once more, out of the inn and round to the
stable. A hostler demanded to know what had happened.
“Hi’d like to ’ave you tell me what it’s hall habout!” he said. “Why did
the gentlemen ’ave their ’osses taken hout and then ’ave them ’itched in
hagain in such an hawful ’urry?”
They seized him and demanded to know where their own horses were. Their
manner frightened him.
“Those men were ruffians, and they must be caught,” said Dick. “Help us
get our horses to pursue them. If you don’t you may be taken as the
accomplice of the scoundrels. It’s worth a pound note to you, my man, if
you get our horses out instantly and provide us with bridles for them.”
This inducement led the hostler to move quickly. He found the bridles
and brought out the horses. The boys lost not a second in helping bridle
the animals. At the same moment, it seemed, both flung themselves
astride the beasts. A cowboy yell broke from the lips of the Texan—a
yell that sent his mount bounding forward with surprise and fear. Dick
smote his horse with his open hand, which fell with a pistol-like crack
on the animal’s rump.
“Hold on!” shouted the hostler. “Where is that pound note you said I
should ’ave?”
He ran after them, but neither of the boys paused a moment to respond,
and quickly they vanished down the dark road that turned away beneath
the great trees to the right. Back to his ears came the clatter of hoofs
on the roadbed, receding and growing fainter in the distance.
Both boys were ready for any emergency as they galloped mile after mile
along that road.
Twice they passed branching roads, but chose to stick by the principal
highway, although it was impossible to say that they were following the
right course by doing so.
“It’s more than even, pard,” said the Texan, “that the onery varmints
turned off on one of those other roads. We’re going her a whole lot on
pure luck.”
“We have to,” said Dick.
Down a hill and over a bridge they flew. By this time the horses were
breathing heavily and beginning to perspire. Their breath whistled
through their nostrils and they would have slackened the pace had they
been permitted.
On and on until at last, descending yet another hill, they came upon the
wrecked carriage lying in a splintered heap by the roadside.
They flung themselves from their nearly exhausted horses, the creatures
willingly stopping and standing with hanging heads and heaving flanks.
“Whatever happened here, pard?” cried Brad.
“Smash up,” answered Dick. “Must have been a runaway and a bad one,
too.”
Amid the ruins of the carriage they found a man lying ominously still.
“Is it the professor?” whispered Buckhart, fearfully.
Together they dragged away some of the debris, and then Dick struck a
match. The mask that had hidden the face of the man was covered with
blood and partly torn away. His face was badly cut.
“Luke Durbin!” shouted the boy from Texas, as Merriwell fully removed
the bloody mask and held the match with the reflected light flung from
the hollow of his hands.
“That’s who it is,” said Dick.
“And I opine he’s cashed in. This was the end of the racket for him.”
Dick struck another match.
“See!” he exclaimed, as the light of this second match fell on Durbin’s
mutilated face. “He’s not dead!”
The eyelids of the man fluttered and his eyes opened. A groan came from
his lips.
“It’s some rough,” said the Texan; “but you’ve got only yourself to
blame for being here.”
The man’s bloody lips moved and he sought to speak, but the husky sounds
he uttered could not be understood.
“Durbin,” said Dick, “your pals have left you here to die. Did you aid
them in capturing and carrying off Zenas Gunn?”
Another painful effort to speak resulted in nothing that could be
understood.
“Tell me the truth,” urged Dick. “You can see how they deserted you. Why
should you shield them? Did you carry off the old professor? Can’t you
answer? If you would say yes, close your eyes and open them again.”
Slowly the wretch closed and opened his eyes.
“Where is he? Where have they taken him?”
It was impossible for Durbin to answer in words.
The boys lifted him and lay him on the cold ground by the roadside.
“I judge he’s mighty near gone, partner,” whispered Brad. “It’s bad we
have to lose time like this. We ought to be doing something for the
professor.”
“We can’t leave this man to die here alone like a dog, no matter how bad
he has been.”
“He sure has got what was coming to him.”
“But he’s a human being. Think of leaving any human creature to die here
in such a manner!”
“Think of Professor Gunn!”
“If we find out without delay what has happened to the professor and
where he has been taken, we must learn it through this man. In case he
knows—which is pretty certain—he may tell everything if he finds he is
going to die.”
“That’s correct, Dick. You’re always the long-headed one. But if he
can’t talk, how are we going to learn anything from him?”
“If we had a stimulant or restorative of some sort——”
“Liquor?”
“Yes; as a medicine liquor is all right when properly used. As a
beverage it is poisonous.”
Although Dick fully believed in temperance, he was not a crank, and he
knew that liquor had its good uses, although almost invariably it was
put to a bad use.
“But we haven’t a drop of the stuff. What can we do?”
“Is there no way for us to get him back to the Robin Hood?”
“How’ll we make the riffle, partner?”
Dick meditated a moment. As he did so, both lads heard in the distance
the sound of hoofbeats and the rumble of wheels, telling them that a
carriage was approaching at a rapid pace.
“Somebody else driving a heap hard, Dick,” said the Texan. “Perhaps more
trouble is coming.”
“We’ll have to be ready for anything. If it’s some one we do not know,
we’ll appeal to him to take this man in and carry him back to the inn.”
They waited, Buckhart producing his pistol, while Dick led the horses
aside beneath a tree.
Back along the road a short distance there was an opening among the
trees, and soon the carriage, drawn by a single horse, came rumbling
through this star-lighted spot.
Dick joined Brad.
“We’ll have to stop it, even if we scare the driver out of his wits,” he
said.
The boys stepped into the road and called to the driver. Immediately a
man rose up in the carriage and cried:
“Who are you? Have you seen anything of two boys on horses, riding as if
pursued by Old Nick himself?”
“We’re the boys, I fancy,” confessed Dick. “You’re Mr. Swinton, of Robin
Hood’s Tavern.”
It was the landlord, and he jumped out in a hurry when he found he had
overtaken Dick and Brad.
“Look here, you chaps,” he cried, “don’t you think you can upset my
house, smash windows and doors and run away without paying the damages!
I’m an honest man, and what’s happened to-night at my place may ruin me.
I demand damages, and you’ll have to pay ’em.”
“All right,” said Dick quietly. “Although we’re not responsible for the
things that have happened, we’ll pay a reasonable damage charge if you
promptly take into your carriage and carry to the inn a man who has been
seriously injured here and may be dying. I’ll pay you for your trouble
with him, too.”
Although still suspicious and doubtful, the landlord was somewhat
mollified.
“How did it happen?” he asked, as he stooped and peered down at the
injured man.
“There’s the carriage,” explained Brad, “smashed a whole lot. I opine
they had a runaway. Don’t waste time in asking other questions. Time is
powerful precious to-night, and every minute counts.”
The injured wretch groaned as they raised him and placed him in the
carriage, which the driver had already turned about. The driver proved
to be the hostler, who reminded Dick that he had not received the pound
note promised him.
“I’ll pay you as soon as we get back to the tavern,” was the promise.
“Had no time to do it before.”
Before starting on the return, Dick made another examination of the
injured man to see if his wounds were so serious that he might bleed to
death on the way, but found that the cold air had caused the blood to
congeal, and that there was no danger from the source feared.
Mounted and riding close behind the carriage, the boys turned their
faces toward the inn, their hearts heavy in their bosoms, for the
uncertainty of the fate that had befallen Professor Gunn oppressed them.
“For all of the accident and the smash-up,” said Dick, “Bunol’s game to
carry off the professor has succeeded.”
“That’s right,” agreed Brad. “But why should he do anything like that? I
confess it puzzles me up a plenty.”
“Recall his little trick at Lochleven.”
“That was some different. By getting hold of Dunbar Budthorne he hoped
to force Nadia into a marriage with him. He reckoned that, to save her
brother, she might hitch with him.”
“You don’t think he counts on murdering Zenas Gunn, do you, partner?”
“No; had he intended to murder the professor he would not have gone to
so much trouble to capture him and run him off. The men who did that
could have finished the old man in his room at the tavern while we were
having our little racket with Bunol below. Bunol knows the strength of
the law and fears it. He’s none too good or too timid to commit a
cold-blooded murder, but he fears the consequences of such an act.
To-night he told me he has dogged us everywhere since we left Kinross.
We did succeed in fooling him by helping Budthorne and his sister to get
away secretly. Having lost track of Nadia, Bunol has followed us,
believing we would join the Budthornes sooner or later.
“Of late he has been growing impatient. Finding we contemplated visiting
Newstead Abbey and the haunts of Robin Hood, he decided to strike a blow
here in this forest. Some of his spies must have learned from our
conversation and inquiries that we meant to remain overnight at Robin
Hood’s Inn. Having learned that much Bunol acted swiftly. Durbin was
with him, and probably Marsh. He must have secured the aid of ruffians
who were familiar with this part of the country. He had an idea that,
could he meet me face to face and quite alone, he might exercise his
newly discovered hypnotic powers on me, and this he tried to do
to-night. But I know something about hypnotism myself, and I was able to
combat him and defeat him on his chosen ground.
“He had prepared for defeat, having instructed his ruffianly tools to
capture and carry off Professor Gunn, whom he knew to be timid, old, and
incapable of making serious resistance. Through threats of what he may
do to the professor he hopes to bring me to my knees. It is his object
to conquer us now, Brad, for he is sure he can accomplish his designs on
the Budthornes, once he can place us beyond interfering and baffling
him. Without doubt he will threaten and frighten Zenas into telling him
where to find Nadia Budthorne. I do not fear that he will seriously
injure the old professor, unless Zenas was injured in the runaway and
smash-up.”
“But Nadia!” cried Brad. “If he forces the professor to tell where Nadia
may be found——”
“We’ll lose no time in sending a warning message to the Budthornes. Then
it will be a race between us and Miguel Bunol out of England, across the
Channel and down into sunny Italy. But Bunol will seek to baffle and
delay us.”
“How?”
“By keeping Zenas Gunn a prisoner somewhere, knowing we’ll not leave
England until we have found and freed him.”
“Great tarantulas! I reckon you’re right, partner! You’re a whole lot
long-headed, and you have tumbled to his game. Whatever can we do?”
“We must beat him at that game.”
“Elucidate how.”
“This runaway and smash-up was something not reckoned on by Bunol.”
“Certain not.”
“Durbin was left for dead.”
“No doubt of it.”
“If Durbin lives long enough to talk, we may induce him to tell us where
Zenas Gunn is to be kept a prisoner.”
“I sure hope so.”
“Then it will be our business to waste no time in finding the professor
and setting him free. After that the race for Italy will begin.”
Buckhart was greatly stirred up over the prospect.
“If we permit that Spaniard to get ahead of us, pard, I’ll certain feel
like committing suicide some!” he cried. “You made a big mistake when
you kept me from taking a crack at him with my gun as he went whooping
away from the Robin Hood. If I had bored him——”
“We should have been arrested and compelled to stand trial. It is true
we might have been acquitted; but shooting a human being, even though it
may be a dastardly dog like Bunol, is mighty bad business, and I don’t
believe you wish, any more than I do, to stain your hands with human
blood.”
“I punctured Rob MacLane at Lochleven.”
“But it was only a flesh wound in the shoulder, and the authorities, who
seemed relieved and pleased over the death of the Strathern outlaw,
decided that the cause of his death was not the bullet wound, but came
from a broken neck received when he fell from Lochleven Castle.”
“All the same,” muttered the Texan, in a low tone, “I don’t opine he’d
taken that fall if I hadn’t fired at him. I saw he was going to murder
Aaron by flinging him over, and I didn’t falter any at all in shooting.
My conscience hasn’t troubled me much.”
“But with Bunol mounted on a horse and trying to escape from us, the
aspect of the case would have seemed different. At least, that is the
way I looked at it.”
“I suppose you’re right, partner, for you’re right as a rule ten times
out of ten; but I’m powerful afraid Bunol will get a start on us now.”
“We’ll do our best to baffle him at his game,” said Dick. “This accident
that befell Luke Durbin may enable us to defeat the Spaniard.”
“At the same time, it’s mighty sure to put Durbin out of the running,
even if he doesn’t die, for I judge he’s badly busted up, and he won’t
be so frisky and troublesome in future.”
“But for Bunol, Durbin never would have been a hard man to check. Bunol
is reckless to the point of madness. He has resolved to possess Nadia
Budthorne and her money——”
“But by the stars above us I swear he never shall!” cried the Texan
fiercely.
When they reached Robin Hood’s Tavern once more, the boys, assisted by
Swinton, lifted the injured man, who was still alive, and carried him
inside, where he was placed on a bed.
“How far is it to the nearest doctor?” asked Dick. “This man is badly
injured, and he must have medical treatment, if he does not die before a
doctor can be brought.”
“It’s good ten miles,” said the landlord.
“Send a man for a physician without delay,” directed Dick. “I will pay
all expenses.”
“It’s easy enough for you to say so,” returned the doubting keeper of
the inn; “but I have not yet seen the color of your money, and my doors
and windows have been smashed, the people in the house, including my
wife, nearly frightened to death, and the reputation of the place
ruined. What have I done that all this misfortune should be heaped upon
me?”
“Would you see this man die for want of medical attention?”
“How do I know what will follow before morning? There may be further
trouble here. Besides myself I have but two men about the place, and I
must keep them to protect the ladies.”
“You will send a man for a doctor,” said Dick, sternly. “Here, I have
money to pay. Tell me what your bill is for the broken door and window,
and it will be settled—unless you make it exorbitant. Tell me how much
it will cost to dispatch a man on a horse for the doctor, and I will pay
that, too.”
At sight of the boy’s money the landlord immediately became quite humble
and obliging. He started to ramble in his statement concerning the
damage done, saying no money could pay him for the injury to the good
name of the house; but Merriwell cut him short, asserting he would
settle that matter after he had seen the man start to bring a physician.
Within a short time the hostler was dispatched on a good horse, with
instructions not to return under any condition without the needed
physician.
“I feel better about that now,” confessed Dick. “I wouldn’t see my worst
enemy in the condition of Durbin without doing what I could for him.”
The injuries the man had received about the face were washed and dressed
by Dick himself, while Durbin was given a little whisky, which seemed to
revive him, although it was apparent to all that he might die within the
hour.
Having done whatever he could to make the man comfortable, Merriwell sat
down beside the bed and talked to him. At first it seemed that Durbin
still remained unable to speak, but his wandering eyes gazed at Dick
pathetically, as if he could not quite understand the boy.
“Durbin,” said Dick, “I’m sorry for you; but you must know that you
brought this upon yourself, and you cannot blame any one else.”
The man moved his head the least bit from side to side.
“Your bones do not seem to be broken,” the boy went on; “but your
condition indicates that you are seriously—probably fatally—injured. You
may not live an hour; you may die within ten minutes. You had a hand in
carrying off Zenas Gunn. It was Bunol’s plot, but it is likely you know
that rascal’s plans. The least you can do now is to tell me where the
professor has been taken. For the sake of your own conscience, at least,
you should tell.”
The man was silent.
“You were deserted by your pals and left to die alone by the roadside. I
have taken trouble to have you brought here, and I’ve sent for a doctor.
In return for this will you not tell me the one thing I want to know?
Where has Bunol taken Zenas Gunn?”
The injured man’s lips parted, an expression of great effort and
distress came into his eyes, but the only sounds he uttered were a few
painful gasps.
“Can’t you speak?” asked Dick.
Again that faint rocking motion of the head from side to side.
“I don’t opine he’ll ever speak again, pard,” whispered Buckhart, in
Dick’s ear. “He’s done for, and we’re wasting time in trying to get
anything out of him.”
“It’s folly to attempt to search the country blindly to-night,” said
Dick. “Unless Durbin can give us a clue, we have nothing to work on.”
Brad looked desperate.
“All right,” he muttered. “You know best, partner. I opine I’d better
trust the whole thing to you.”
“Give me that whisky, Mr. Swinton,” requested Dick.
The liquor had been weakened with water in a cup, and the boy again held
this out to Durbin’s lips. A little of the stuff passed into the man’s
mouth, and he swallowed it with great difficulty.
“Now,” once more urged Dick, “try to tell me where they have taken
Professor Gunn.”
The man’s lips moved again. Dick bent low over him, holding his ear down
to listen, but he could catch no word, and the fear that Durbin would
die without speaking grew upon him.
Looking straight into the pathetic eyes of the injured man, Dick said,
in a tone of confidence and command:
“I will give you the power to speak. You shall speak! You can speak!
Tell me at once where they have taken the professor.”
For a moment there was absolute silence in the room. Both Buckhart and
Swinton watched, breathless and awed, feeling that in some singular
manner the boy was transmitting some strength of his own to the man on
the bed. They felt as if something like a miracle was about to take
place.
Finally Durbin’s lips parted again, and, in a low yet perfectly distinct
tone, he muttered three words:
“The—haunted—mill!”