A FIENDISH ACT.
"Like some lone bird
Without a mate,
My lonely heart is desolate;
I look around
And cannot trace, a friendly
smile, a welcome face.
Even in crowds
I'm still alone, because I
cannot love but one."
Thus a fortnight passed, and under the rigid diet of the strengthening,
nutritious nuts and clear spring water Lester rapidly gained strength.
He only waited a fitting opportunity to make a dash for liberty.
Halloran was well armed; he realized that fact, and that he would shoot
him down like a dog ere he would suffer him to escape the fate that had
been laid out for him.
Therefore his only hope was to get away by strategy. He laid several
plans, but each time they were frustrated by some unexpected act of
Halloran's.
Meanwhile the latter was pondering over his case, considerably
mystified.
"Confound the fellow! he does not seem to grow either pale or
emaciated," he muttered. "I could almost say that starving seems to
agree with him. I am quite tempted to give him his quietus and end this
vigil. Remaining in this solitary hut does not quite come up to my
liking. I wonder what Kendale is doing. He promised to let me know how
he got on.
"I have not heard from him for nearly a week now. Perhaps they made the
discovery that he was not the real Lester Armstrong, and have placed him
in limbo; but it strikes me that in such a predicament he would hasten
to communicate with me, apprising me of the fact.
"Then, again," he ruminated, "Kendale is thoroughly selfish to the
backbone, and if he has successfully hoodwinked these people and is
living off the fat of the land and rolling in money, as it were, ten
chances to one he has quite forgotten my very existence.
"He ought to have sent me more provisions to-day, and more tobacco; and
it is nightfall and no sign of any one."
The next day and the next passed in the same fashion.
By this time Halloran had become thoroughly exasperated.
"This settles the bill," he muttered; "I leave this place to-night. I do
not see much need of staying here any longer, anyhow. Armstrong will not
last many hours longer; he couldn't; it's beyond human physical
possibility."
In the semi-twilight he looked in at his prisoner.
Lester had fallen into so deep a sleep that he seemed scarcely to
breathe, and the dim, fading light falling in through the chinks of the
boarded window gave his face, which was beginning to grow pale because
of his confinement, an unusually grayish pallor at this twilight hour.
"Ha! ha!" muttered Halloran, setting his teeth hard together; "it is
perfectly safe to leave him now. He is dying; his hour has come at
last."
Turning on his heel he strode into the outer apartment, banging the door
to after him, but not taking the trouble to lock it on this occasion.
"As there seems to be little need of my remaining here longer, now that
he is done for, I'm off for the city," he muttered; "and a pretty tramp
I'll have of it over this barren country road, fully seven miles to the
railway station, and hungry as a bear at that."
Again he looked at Lester, to assure himself beyond all possibility of a
doubt that he was actually dying.
And again he was thoroughly deceived.
"It's all over with him," he muttered, "and Kendale's secret is safe
between him and me, and he'll have to pay me handsomely to keep it;
that's certain."
On the threshold he halted.
"Dead men tell no tales," he muttered, "and he would be past all
recognition by the time any one came across him in this isolated spot.
Then, again, some one might happen to wander this way.
"It's best to be sure; to put it beyond human power to discover his
identity, and the only way to secure that end is to burn this place. Ay!
that is the surest and safest way to effectually conceal the crime."
He had muttered the words aloud, and they fell distinctly upon the ears
of Lester Armstrong, who had awakened at the sound of his footsteps the
second time, although he had given no sign of having done so. The words
fell with horrible dread upon his ears because of the fact that he was
bound hand and foot by an iron chain, fastened to a heavy ring in the
floor.
For the last week he had used every endeavor to force the links apart,
but they had frustrated his most strenuous efforts.
And he said to himself, if the fiend incarnate before him carried out
his intention of firing the place it would be all over with him. The
horrible smoke would assuredly suffocate him ere he could, even by
exerting the most Herculean strength, succeed in liberating himself.
With bated breath he heard Halloran enter the outer apartment.
And he heard his impatient, muttered imprecations as he fumbled about
for matches, seemingly without finding any.
"This is where I put them," exclaimed Halloran, with an oath, "but they
are not here now."
After a moment's pause his voice broke the awful stillness, exclaiming:
"Ah! here they are! I imagined they were not far away. One should always
know where to put his hands on such things, even in the dark. A whole
bunch of 'em; I did not remember that I had so many!"
For the next few moments Lester heard him walking to and fro, apparently
dragging heavy articles over the floor, and he knew that he was piling
pieces of boards together in the middle of the room to start the blaze.
His blood fairly ran cold in his veins at the thought.
The moments that followed seemed the length of eternity.
Each instant he expected to hear the dull scratching of the matches,
quickly followed by the swift, crackling blaze.
With all his strength he strove to rend asunder the heavy steel chain,
but it resisted his every effort.
"God in heaven! am I to die here like a rat in a trap?" he groaned, the
veins standing out like knotted whipcord on his forehead, the
perspiration pouring down his face like rain.
For some moments there was a strange, unaccountable silence in the outer
room.
Lester paused in his efforts to wrench the iron bands asunder which
bound his wrists, wondering what that ominous silence meant.
The suspense was terrible, yet each moment meant that much of a respite
from the horrible fate which awaited him.
What could Halloran be doing? Surely he had not abandoned his intentions
to set fire to the cabin?
It was almost too good to be true. And yet that awful uncertainty was
almost unbearable.
In the outer room Halloran sat quietly thinking over his plans, match in
hand, telling himself that he had better perfect them then than wait
until he was journeying toward the railway station.
He would take the first train bound for New York, seek Kendale at once,
and have an understanding with him before he would disclose to him the
fact that Lester Armstrong was effectually out of his way.
"Yes, that is the only course to pursue," muttered Halloran, and
springing to his feet, he struck half of the matches in his package at
once, and lighted the pile heaped in the center of the cabin floor.