"CRAZY AS A POROUS PLASTER"
It was terrific, and yet the only effect on the bench on which
the mortar lay was to knock the board sideways from the boxes.
The mortar became as powder itself, though not a splinter was
raised from the wood.
From the lips of Amos Garwood a fearful yell went up. He plunged
headlong a few feet, then lay on the ground, feebly nursing his
right hand with his left.
As for Dick, Dave and Tom, their ears rang with the noise until
they felt as though surely their ear-drums had been ruptured by
the force of that awesome detonation.
An instant later all was quiet. Dick and his chums speedily realized
that they had escaped actual injury, yet their legs shook so that
they could hardly stand.
"Wh---wh---what was it?" asked Reade in accents that quivered
in unison with his trembling legs.
"See here, fellows, we mustn't be fools," Dick cried chidingly.
"We're not hurt, and Mr. Garwood is. Let's see what we can do
for him."
"Do for me, will you?" groaned the injured one. "No, you won't.
You boys keep your distance from me, or you're going to be worse
scared than you are already. Don't imagine that I'm helpless,
for I'm not. In me you behold the master of the world!"
"Confound him, I've a good mind to go away and let him have the
world to himself," muttered Reade.
But Dick and Dave had already started toward the spot where Amos
lay. The man scrambled to his feet, the old, hunted look coming
into his eyes.
"You keep away from me!" he screamed. "Get away! Clear out!
I don't want to hurt you. I wouldn't harm a fly. But I'm not
going to allow any one near me!"
Dick ventured too near. Garwood swung his uninjured arm so
unexpectedly that Prescott had no chance to get out of the way.
He fell flat on the ground. Warned by the light in the eye of the
world's master, Dick believed it prudent to roll several yards before
be tried to get up.
"Say," blazed Darrin indignantly. "Are you going to stand for
that?"
"Don't excite him," murmured Prescott in an undertone. "The poor
fellow isn't responsible for what he's doing. And I'd fight,
too, if I thought any one was trying to seize me."
"I'm sorry if I had to hurt you," said Amos Garwood in a milder tone.
"But I allow no one to come near me. I have too many enemies
---so many who are jealous of me that I can trust no one."
"He isn't really dangerous, poor fellow," whispered Prescott to
his companions.
"No, though he has a habit of blowing up suddenly," muttered Reade.
"He did the same thing once before, you'll remember, at the old
water-works cottage."
"Are we going to try to catch the fellow this time?" Darrin whispered.
"Yes," nodded Dick. "We ought to, both for his father's sake
and his own."
"What do you say, then, if we all three rush him?" pressed Darrin.
"It would be mean," Dick retorted in an undertone. "The poor
fellow might be tempted to use his injured hand. And you can
see how it's burned. I don't wonder. You saw how the flame of
the explosion leaped all over that arm. It's a wonder it didn't
set him afire."
"Are you boys going to leave me," inquired Garwood, "or are you
going to remain and thus show me that you are truly of my enemies?"
"You slip back into the woods, Tom," whispered Dick. "See if
you can find Greg and the other fellows. If you can, bring them
up quickly."
Dave and I'll stay here, unless Garwood moves away. If he does,
Darry and I will follow him. If you hear any war whoops, come
running in that direction, you and the other fellows. You'll
know that the whoop means that we need you."
"I hate to leave you two with him," muttered Reade reluctantly.
"If this world-boss gets violent you two won't be enough for
him."
"We can get out of the way, if we have to," Dick rejoined. "But
hurry, Tom. We need a lot of the fellows, for we ought to seize
this poor fellow and get him into town, even if only that be may
have proper attention for his burned hand and arm. Hustle. You'll
help me more in that way than in any other."
Thus urged, Tom turned and vanished into the forest behind the
others.
"Why do you stay here?" demanded Amos Garwood fretfully. "I
don't want to injure you, boys; but if you belong to my enemies,
then I shall be forced to hurt you. Run away before I lose my
temper. I am always sorry afterwards when I have lost my temper."
The flash in the man's eyes made both boys feel "creepy." Thin
as he was, there was about him, none the less, a suggestion of
great strength and force when put in action.
"We have a right to stay in the woods, Mr. Garwood," Dick answered.
"I don't want to seem impudent, either, but I would suggest that
if you don't like to be with us here, then there are other parts
of the forest that you can find."
As Dick spoke he swung one arm, pointing artfully to the woods
in the direction that Tom Reade had gone, and where it was believed
that Greg and his followers were searching.
"If that's the way you want me to go," smiled Amos Garwood darkly,
"then I believe I'll go in the opposite direction. And, young
men, it won't be wise for you to attempt to follow me!"
With that hint he started. Dick and Dave waited until they could
see only the top of his head. Then they started on his trail.
For an instant Amos Garwood was out of sight. Then, with a suddenness
that startled both trailers, Garwood stepped out from behind a
tree and right into their path.
"I cautioned you both," he announced sharply. "I shall not go
to that trouble again. Keep away from me. Never mind where I
am going, or what I am going to do."
Then a spasm of pain shot across the poor fellow's face. Calm
as he tried to keep himself, it was plain that his burned hand
and arm were causing him great suffering.
"Won't you come with us," pleaded Dick, "and get that arm of yours
attended to? We'll take you to the right place."
"To the right place?" mocked Garwood harshly. "Right into the
camp of my enemies, I suppose? Among those who deride my great
invention, and yet who would capture me and steal my wonderful
discovery from me. Boys, I have already told you that if you
follow me, you will follow me to grave harm. Beware in time.
Run! Leave me! Or your fates be on your own heads, for I am
master of the world and can force you to obey me!"
As Garwood spoke the last words another change crossed his face.
He reached into an inner coat pocket.
"You will not obey me," he remarked. "Therefore, I must act to
save myself and my great discovery. 'Tis as you would have it!"
"Duck!" gasped Dave Darrin, seizing Dick by one arm. "He means
big mischief!"
What it was for which he had reached in his pocket neither Grammar
School boy saw, for both turned at the same instant, beating a
swift retreat. Sixty feet away, however, they halted, wheeling
about.
Garwood, seeing the boys run, acted as though he would give them
no further thought. He was already walking in the opposite direction,
his back turned to them.
"Ugh! He gives me cold chills," cried Darrin.
"He does the same to me," sighed Dick, "but it's a plain case
of duty to follow him until we can turn him over to those who'll
take good care of the poor fellow."
Just as Amos Garwood was on the point of vanishing from their
view, the two schoolboys started forward, more cautiously than
before.
Back of them in the woods, far away, sounded a boyish war-whoop.
"Hi-yi-yi-yi-_yoop_!" answered Dave Darrin.
Amos Garwood started forward with a bound like that of a deer.
Then his long legs went into rapid operation. Prescott and Darrin
ran onward as fast as they could go. They were trained to running,
too, but this "master of the world" set them a pace that no
fourteen-year-old boys on earth could have followed with any hope
of success.
"Whoop, but he's an airship for speed!" gasped Dave Darrin.
"We couldn't catch him with a locomotive," confessed Dick, when,
panting, he was at last obliged to halt.
"Hear him---going," gasped Darrin.
"I can't hear him," confessed Dick, after a moment of listening.
"That's just the point. He has gotten so far away that we can't
hear him crashing through the undergrowth."
"I'm afraid we won't catch up with him again to-day," sighed Dick.
"The folks who are trying to catch Amos Garwood are foolish in
sending detectives to look for him," muttered Dave. "They ought
to hire professional sprinters."
Away at their rear sounded a fainter whoop.
"Answer the fellows, Dave," urged Prescott.
"I will---when I get some wind," muttered Darrin.
Three times more Greg and his fellows whooped before Dick could
get together enough wind to make his voice travel. Greg repeated
the hail, and again Dick answered. After a few minutes the other
Grammar School boys caught up with Dick and his friend, who told
to the new-comers the story of the encounter with Amos Garwood.
"Get away from you again?" asked Tom blankly.
"I don't believe we'll ever chase that streak of light again,"
growled Dave. "I don't feel as though I'd ever be able to run
again. Amos Garwood can walk faster than any of us can run."
"The most that we can do at present," Prescott concluded, will
be to notify Lawyer Ripley or Chief Coy that we've seen the Garwood
flyer again."
"I wish we could catch him," sighed Torn, while Greg nodded.
"You two can have the next chance," smiled Dick. "As for me,
I am certain that I can never catch Amos Garwood unless he and
I happen to be running toward each other."
"All in favor of supper," proposed Dan Dalzell, glancing at his
watch, "say 'aye' and turn homeward."
"But shan't we try, for a while, to trail Garwood?" queried Greg.
"What's the use?" cross-questioned Dick disconsolately. "We might
sight him, but we'd never catch him. Nor do I believe he has
stopped running yet."
"If he hasn't," grumbled Dave, "he's twenty miles from here by
this time."
So Dan's motion prevailed. The baseball squad of the Central
Grammar School turned toward the road that led homeward.