THE BRIDGE TO SAFETY
Neither boy nor dog paused till they came to the dusty road. There
Bouncer stopped and ran excitedly about the spot where the big man had
taken May Nell in his arms; doubled back on his track, stopped again,
and looked up at Billy, perplexity written all over his face. Billy
encouraged him with word and caress; but he came at last, put his nose
against Billy’s knee, and whined apologetically.
“Never mind, Bouncer. I’ve another card up my sleeve!” He patted and
hugged the old dog till his tail waved once more gracefully over his
back. “Here! Try this. Sic ’em!” Billy thrust the scraps of red silk
under his nose; and in an instant Bouncer was off after the new scent.
“I knew it!” Billy panted feverishly. “The Ha’nt!” Heedless of the dog
running with his nose close to the ground, Billy rushed on. His shirt
was torn, his trousers hanging by one suspender, his shoes cut and one
tap turned back. Ashes whitened his hair; though at the back a dark
mat was still damp from oozing blood,--the handkerchief that had bound
it had been torn off by a twitching twig. His smarting eyes watered so
that he could hardly see his way. Yet of all this he was unconscious.
Weariness, pain, his cracked and bleeding lips,--he knew nothing of
them, felt nothing.
It was as if some tremendous force had taken possession of his tired,
stricken body, and carried it on with no volition of his own. Afterward
he remembered, understood; knew it was his own will that rose and ruled
every bodily faculty; knew, and was glad, for that day he stepped into
a realm of power he should never lose as long as he lived.
In front of the stone steps that led up to the barred door he
hesitated; but the dog raced round to the rear. Instantly Billy
followed.
What if the Italians should be there? Impossible. Surely they would
be on the mountain fighting fire. What if the door should be locked?
The thought made him tremble, yet he hurried on and softly tried the
handle. It would not open!
Baffled, yet knowing he had expected it, he ran this way and that,
peering round each corner, scanning the bare, high walls to see if by
chance some window had been left unbarred. Not one less than a dozen
feet from the ground! He ran back to the door, was almost tempted to
shake it, yet knew that would be a foolish trick; some one might be
within guarding May Nell; might at the first noise still more securely
hide her,--they said there were fearfully deep and dark cellars under
that house! She might come to--to some dreadful harm!
In desperation he stood still, gazing at the windows above;
reprimanding the dog sharply when he whined, though his fingers
unconsciously patted away the sting of the rebuke.
The solid rock of the mountain had been cut away from the rear of the
house to form a natural, paved court. At the top was a small chicken
coop, its wall flush with the wall of rock; and near it grew an oak
sapling not larger than Billy’s arm.
It quickly occurred to him to run around and climb up there by the
coop. Perhaps he could see into the windows--perhaps see-- He didn’t
wait to finish his thought, but scrambled frantically up the steep and
came around to the top of the wall. The window opposite and level with
him was bare but not as dirty as the others; and against it he saw a
bed-post. Anyway that room was used by some one besides ghosts, he
thought; and wondered what to do next. Just then Bouncer sprang up and
gave a single short bark, his bark of greeting.
“She’s there, old dog!” Billy caught Bouncer’s nose tight in his hand
to prevent a repetition; and at that instant May Nell herself appeared
at the window!
It took two hands to hold the dog’s mouth shut now; and for a minute
that Billy thought much longer, it seemed as if he never would be able
to make him keep quiet. But he succeeded at last, and turned again to
see May Nell standing in full view with her finger on her lips.
“Are you hurt?” Billy spelled with the hand alphabet every boy and girl
knows.
“No; well,” came the answer.
“Alone?”
“Not in the house; in this room, yes.”
“Who?”
“One of the brothers, hurt.”
“Any one else?”
“I don’t know.”
“Open window.”
“I can’t. Nailed.”
“Break it,--not now; when I tell you.”
“No, no! They’ll kill us!”
From where he stood Billy could see the distress in her face. He must
think of a way to get her, and he must, _must_ hurry!
He ran back a few steps and found a loose board he had climbed over
when coming up. This he carried to the edge of the wall. “When I call,”
he spelled out, “break window, use chair, come across on board.”
She shook her head.
Just then he saw a wagon in the distance rounding the curve of the
mountain. This was his minute. He must get her before that team passed.
Then if any one attempted to prevent him he would have help. He turned
back to May Nell.
“You must do it,” he spelled. His stiffened fingers must have carried
authority, for she nodded; and he saw her get a chair and stand with
it, ready to do his bidding.
He lifted the board, trying its weight. Could he ever get it safely
placed? Higher he lifted it, and began to let it drop; but he saw that
if the other end missed the window sill, it would pull him down to the
court below. Frantic, he stared about for help, for inspiration. He
dared not wait till the passers came in hearing; the sound of his voice
calling might too soon rouse men inside, make them shoot perhaps. As
it was he expected every minute to see a swarthy face appear, a hand
with a knife or pistol. It was not for himself he feared, but for May
Nell, the little girl who for some strange reason was worth something
to these desperadoes, and whose life would be on his soul if he did not
save her.
His boyish knowledge and imagination, equal to many pictures of danger
for the girl, did not extend to her captors. He never stopped to
consider, nor would he have understood if he had, the plight of the
criminals. He knew that two had been captured, one of whom before that
had carried off May Nell; but his small newspaper reading of “gangs” of
counterfeiters had given him visions of dozens of desperate criminals,
terrorizing communities, and equal to any bold crime. Now in his mind’s
eye he could see men skulking in the brush, listening in rooms below,
only waiting to pounce on May Nell the moment she smashed the window.
Oh, yes, he must hurry--hurry!
In his distress his wandering eye discovered a bunch of vine ties,
short pieces of soft hemp rope for fastening vines to their supporting
stakes. They were hanging against the rear of the coop, and a gust
of wind had blown them into view. Like a flash he sprang and caught
them; tied several together in quick, strong knots, and lashed himself
to the little tree. Then he took up the board again, poised it at a
perpendicular, calculated the angle, and slowly dropped it. Would the
end reach the sill? No, it was too short!
He tried to hold it from falling, but could not. It seemed as if his
arms would be pulled out of their sockets. It would fall short--he must
hold on to it, not let it strike below, for the noise would betray them
too soon; and--the men in the wagon were passing!
With a supreme effort he straightened his arms just as the board
reached the level of the sill, pushed it forward with all his might;
and--it caught! Caught by an inch or less!
“Stop!” his upheld warning hand said to May Nell. He found his knife,
cut his lashings, and beckoned to her vehemently. He waited only for
the crash of glass and sash, when he threw himself outstretched on the
ground, and pushed the board hard against the lower edge of the window
frame.
[Illustration: She scudded across the bending board]
“It’s up to you now, my girl,” he panted under his breath. “The board
will bend--you mustn’t be frightened. Fix your eyes on the tree--come
fast.”
Gee! It was a scaly trick for a little girl, he thought; and felt sick.
Would the plank bend too much? Slip? She was such a little thing--if
only she could be a truly fairy for a minute!
“Oh, God, walk with her!” he prayed silently when he felt her weight
first touch the board; prayed as he never had before. It seemed as if
something strange and strong was going out of him right to May Nell.
Yet almost before the prayer was breathed the child with incredible
swiftness scudded across the bending board and stood safe by his side!
He sprang up, caught her hand, and raced with her down the rocky steep,
calling wildly to the men in the wagon as he ran. Bouncer, no longer
watched, vented his pent-up excitement in noisy yelps; and above the
din Billy heard loud angry words in a foreign tongue that he knew were
execrations, commands to return.
It seemed to him that his voice made no sound; that May Nell never ran
so slowly; that the travellers would surely not hear him, not stop. How
could they hear in all the noise?
Yet they had already stopped, turned, and driven quickly to the house,
hurried by the frenzy in the boy’s tones.
“Take her in,” Billy gasped. “They stole her; they’re after--save
her--hurry--” He could say no more, but suddenly collapsed and sank to
the ground; and the last sight he remembered was the dark Italian at
the house corner, talking fast, with one hand in a sling, the other
waving a knife threateningly.
Yes, Billy had fainted for the first time in his life. The two men,
heedless of the Italian, took the boy up gently. One sat in the bed of
the wagon and held Billy as easily as possible, while the other lifted
May Nell to the seat, mounted beside her, and drove rapidly back to
town.