A FALL IN THE NIGHT
Becoming too anxious for the safety of his friends to remain seated in
the position in which he had been left, Harry at last arose to his feet
and advanced down the passage toward the incline where they had
disappeared. He could see nothing, and presently turned back.
Instead of sitting down again, he moved back, always painfully because
of his broken arm, toward the entrance to the old tunnel. He remembered
faintly that Jack and Frank had called out to some one at the top of the
pit during the afternoon, and his hope was now that whoever had visited
the place and witnessed their plight would return.
He reached the entrance and flashed his light about eagerly. No one was
in sight and he turned back disheartened. Had he known that the finger
of light from the electric had been seen by Ned and Jimmie, he would
have returned to his old position with a much lighter heart.
The discouraged boy sat down at the head of the incline to once more
watch and listen for the return of his chums. His broken arm was now
becoming very painful, and at last he turned on the electric with a view
of rearranging the rough sling in which Frank and Jack had placed it.
The boys had been too anxious at the moment of reaching the bottom of
the pit to attempt the setting of the limb at that time. They might have
done so had they realized that an hour or two must elapse before they
could reach a place more suitable for the undertaking.
The instant the boy turned on the light, he heard a shout from the rear,
and turning, he saw two flashlights moving toward him. At first the
figures behind the lights were not discernible, but as they came nearer
he recognized the forms of Ned and Jimmie. The boys approached him
almost gaily. Norman had reported Harry lying inertly at the bottom of
the Devil’s Punch Bowl, and they had in a measure prepared their minds
to find the boy dead or fatally injured.
So, when they saw him leaning against the wall of the old channel,
arranging the handkerchief sling which sustained his broken arm, they
almost shouted with joy. In a moment they were at his side.
“Hiding, eh?” exclaimed Jimmie, his voice almost choking with emotion.
“You thought we couldn’t find you, did you?”
“Are you badly hurt?” was Ned’s first question.
“Just a broken arm,” Harry answered trying to speak very calmly,
although the pain was now excruciating.
“Where are Frank and Jack?” was the next question.
Harry pointed toward the sloping passage.
“Trying to find a way out,” he answered.
“Were they here when you fell?” asked Jimmie. “If they were, why didn’t
they set your broken arm? They understand first aid to the injured just
as well as we do. Now, you drop right back on this nice, soft bed of
granite and I’ll see if I can find something that will serve for
splints. There ought to be something that can be used floating in the
water.”
“I saw tree branches bobbing about there this afternoon,” Harry said,
very faintly. “You may be able to find what you want.”
Jimmie darted away toward the entrance, and Ned began removing the
bandage and the boy’s coat and shirtsleeve. His face brightened as he
came to understand the extent of the injury.
“I was afraid of a compound fracture,” he said, “but this is all right.
The flesh is badly swollen, but we’ll soon drive that away. Is it very
painful?” he continued.
“It hurts like the dickens!” almost sobbed Harry.
“Why didn’t the boys fix it?” demanded Ned.
“Because,” answered Harry, “someone came to the edge of the pit and
called down, and then ran away without giving us any help. We were all
afraid he had gone away after some of the half-breeds, and so it seemed
that the first thing to do was to get out of sight. After we got in
here, they thought they could find their way out by following this
tunnel and get to the camp.”
In a short time Jimmie returned with several pieces of wood from which
splints were made, and then the boy’s arm was tenderly cared for.
“There!” Ned exclaimed at the conclusion of the operation, “now you’ll
be all right in just no time!”
“It’s a good thing we’re all Boy Scouts, eh?” Jimmie chuckled. “And it’s
a good thing, too, that one part of the education of a Boy Scout is the
care of the injured.”
“I never realized before what an advantage it is,” Harry said with a
faint smile. “I was beginning to think I’d have to remain here all night
with the broken bones of that arm grinding together.”
“Isn’t it about time Jack and Frank were coming back?” asked Ned.
“They should have been here long ago,” replied Harry.
“I hope they haven’t met with any accident,” Jimmie put in. “I’ll tell
you what I’ll do,” he went on, “I’ll just take a slide down that incline
and see if I can dig ’em up anywhere.”
“Perhaps you’d better let me go,” Ned advised.
“Aw,” Jimmie complained, “you always want to cop out all the fun!”
“Well, go on, then,” Ned laughed. “If you bump your head against a rock,
or get dumped into a pool of water something like the one out there, you
mustn’t blame me. Remember that I wanted to go.”
Jimmie approached the long incline, his electric pointing the way, and
soon shouted back:
“This is all right! There’s a turn here, and the going is good. Come on
in, you fellows. Mighty fine in here!” he went on.
Ned and Harry, the latter now fairly free from pain, made their way
slowly to where Jimmie sat hunched up against the side of the wall.
“Cripes!” he exclaimed, “what makes it so wet in here?”
Then Harry explained how the old channel had been cleared of water.
“The boys must have been going some,” Jimmie put in. “But look here,” he
went on, “suppose that old crevice you are talking about should clog or
something of that kind? We’d be in a nice mixup down here, wouldn’t we?”
“Judging from the noise the water was making in getting out of the
pool,” Ned suggested, “I don’t think there’s much show for the channel
clogging. Our only danger from water is that outlaws may dam the present
current and flood this channel once more. I don’t think there are any
outlaws within a mile of us, but still, there’s always a chance of their
having been summoned by the boy you saw this afternoon.”
“Look here!” Jimmie observed. “The boy they saw this afternoon is
probably the one who came to the camp and told us where you were. I
don’t believe he’d bring any outlaws here.”
“Not unless the outlaws desired to bag us all in one bunch,” Harry added
with a smile. “That may be the idea, you know.”
“My,” chuckled Jimmie, “wouldn’t Gilroy throw a fit if the outlaws
should come and find him sitting there holding the rope? I honestly
believe that he’d drop dead with fright.”
“I believe I’ll take a walk—or a crawl, rather—out to the mouth of this
damp old aqueduct and see what the fat confidential clerk is doing,”
suggested Ned.
“I’ll bet you the Michigan Central Railroad against the Pennsylvania
system,” Jimmie chuckled, “that Gilroy has his little old electric lamp
trimmed and burning when you get there.”
Ned did not offer to accept the wager, but turned and made his way
around the corner and up the long incline. Just as he reached the
entrance a cry of terror came to his ears, followed almost immediately
by a pistol shot and the fall of a heavy body.
Ned shivered as the unseen form thudded down the awful precipice,
bounding, apparently, from one tiny ledge to another, and finally came,
with a sickening crash, to the bottom! Only for an instant, however, did
it lay on the rocks. There was a splash in the pool and then silence.
Almost shivering with dread, fearing that Gilroy had been shot and
hurled from the lip of the cliff, Ned leaned against the wall and
waited.
For a time there was no sound at all, and then came a succession of
noises which indicated that some one was moving about at the top of the
pool so close to the edge that stones dislodged by their feet were
bumping down the incline. As the sounds came from two or three
directions at once, the boy naturally concluded that the Devil’s Punch
Bowl was fairly well surrounded. He looked long in the hope of
discovering a light or a figure moving dimly against the expanse of
stars, but nothing was seen.
The shot had attracted the attention of the boys in the passage, and
Jimmie now came panting out to his chum’s side.
“What is it?” he asked almost breathlessly.
“There was a shot!” Ned answered. “And some one fell into the pit.”
“It must have been Gilroy, then!” Jimmie suggested.
“I’m afraid so,” was Ned’s anxious reply.
Jimmie listened for a short time and then started away, but Ned drew him
back into the shelter of the opening.
“Remain where you are!” he whispered. “There are people moving all
around the dip. They may try to come down.”
“So that foxy little messenger boy did give us away, did he?” asked
Jimmie. “I thought he would all the time!”
“We don’t know yet whether he did or not,” Ned answered, still in a
whisper. “The boy might have been followed when he came here, you know.
I can’t believe yet that he intentionally led us into danger.”
“He always has!” argued Jimmie.
In a moment the rattle of stones was heard again, followed by an
exclamation of dismay and a fall. It was such a fall as Ned had heard
before—a long, bounding, awful fall, with a sickening crash as of broken
flesh and bones at the last!
“Je-rusalem!” whispered Jimmie. “I should think they’d get tired of that
after a while.”
“I wish I knew where Gilroy is,” Ned commented. “I heard him cry out in
alarm just before the shot came, then followed the tumble from the top.
I’m afraid it’s all up with Gilroy.”
“I should say it was all down with Gilroy if he tipped off that ledge,”
Jimmie commented.
“Young man,” Ned said, “this is too serious a matter to joke about.”
“Anyway,” Jimmie continued, facetiously, “they wouldn’t have to shoot
Gilroy to get him rolling down the incline. All they’d have to do would
be to poke a finger and yell ‘scat!’ and away he’d go. Honest, Ned,” the
boy continued, a little ashamed of his lack of reverence, “that Gilroy
is the limit when it comes to getting scared!”
“You must remember,” Ned observed, “that this is all new to Gilroy.”
“All new!” repeated Jimmie. “I should say so. That fellow doesn’t know
any more about rough-house than a pig knows about the tariff issue.
Actually, Ned, I don’t believe he could rough-house a baby cart.”
While the boys were talking a faint light appeared at the top of the
incline to the east. It wavered about aimlessly for a moment and then
passed from view. It was not such a light as would be thrown by an
electric torch but rather indicated the flaring of a match in the wind.
Two shots followed the showing of the tiny light, and then a perfect
shower of stones rolled down the incline and splashed into the pool at
the bottom.
“Gee!” whispered Jimmie. “If I ever get back to little old N. Y., I’m
going to have a friend of mine paint this scene for a back-drop in the
Devil’s auction! Wouldn’t it make a hit?”
“Jimmie,” Ned reprimanded, “I’d like sometime to see you plunged into a
set of circumstances which would throw you into a serious mood.”
“Aw, what’s the use?” Jimmie returned. “All the wind-jamming I do here
won’t make any difference with what’s going on out there on the pit.”
“I’d feel a good deal safer,” Ned said in a moment, “if I knew that
Frank and Jack were safe. I am beginning to fear that they found an exit
through the old passage, and, rather than make their way back up the
incline, returned to the pit up the slope.”
“I never thought of that,” Jimmie answered very gravely. “Here I’ve been
shooting off hot air at what’s going on, and Frank and Jack may be the
ones who are getting the kibosh.”
As the boy ceased speaking, a bumping, swishing sound was heard, and
then footsteps sounded in the pit.
“There!” Jimmie exclaimed. “Some one has come down the rope! Now, who is
it? One of the boys, Gilroy or a half-breed?”