AN ATTACK IN THE DARK.
From their talk it was plain to see that Daniel Bambo and Hank Maul
were following Neka through the semi-deserted streets of the East
Side of New York for no good purpose.
The fact was that both were in a bad way financially, and both
attributed their ill-luck to the Boy Fire King.
“If it hadn’t a-been for Neka, the circus wouldn’t have bu’sted,”
Bambo had said to Maul more than once, to which the ex-driver had
replied: “Yes, an’ if it hadn’t been fer him I would now have a
fust-class variety show on the road an’ coinin’ money.”
Daniel Bambo and Hank Maul had laid their plans against Neka
carefully, and had been watching their chance to “get at him” for
three days.
It would have been an easy matter to have attacked him bodily
and perhaps have killed him, but this was far from their present
intention.
“He’s too valuable to be killed,” Bambo had said. “The best thing we
can do is to make money out of him.”
But how, was, at first, a perplexing question.
Yet, finally, the circus manager solved it to his satisfaction, and
when he unfolded his plan, Hank Maul instantly agreed to it.
As the pair of rascals hurried on after Neka they were followed by a
dilapidated coach, driven by an old man.
This old fellow, Dennis Groin, was in their employ. He was an
ex-convict from Australia, and ready to do anything in the world but
honest work.
As Neka passed along, all unconscious of impending peril, he hummed
gayly to himself. His metropolitan success filled him with delight,
and it was no wonder that his mind was busy with bright thoughts of
the future.
At a distant corner he hesitated for a moment, thinking whether he
had better continue a block farther or turn into the side street.
The corner was dark, the electric light globe being covered with wet
snow, and he did not notice the two forms that came up behind him as
silently as twin shadows.
“Now!” he suddenly heard a familiar voice cry, and then the two men
leaped upon him and bore him backward to the pavement.
Neka was so taken by surprise that for the moment he offered no
resistance. In that space of time a heavy bit of bagging was thrown
over his head and wound tightly around his face and neck, making it
impossible for him to cry out, save in a very muffled tone.
But Neka quickly recovered from his astonishment, and then he started
the liveliest kind of a struggle to free himself from the clutches of
his assailants.
Unfortunately for the boy, the street at this spot was deserted by
both pedestrians and police, so Bambo and Maul had it all their own
way, while Dennis Groin, bringing the coach to the curb, sprang down
to their assistance.
Over and over in the snow rolled Neka and the two men, until Maul, in
his anxiety to prevent the boy getting away, hit him a severe crack
behind the ear with a stick he carried.
A groan issued from beneath the bagging. Neka straightened out, and
his hands fell limp by his side.
“You’ve done it now!” cried Daniel Bambo, hoarsely. “You’ve killed
the boy!”
“No, no! I didn’t hit him hard enough,” ejaculated Hank Maul, in
sudden terror, as a vision of death by electrocution flashed across
his mind. “He’s only stunned.”
“Don’t be afther wastin’ toime on this sphot,” put in Dennis Groin.
“The copper will be comin’ along in a minit. Lift him into the coach
if yez is goin’ ter take him along.”
He caught Neka by the legs, and Daniel Bambo and Hank Maul lifted the
upper part of the inanimate form, and in a few seconds the poor boy
was thrust into the coach. Maul went in with him, while Daniel Bambo
and the Irishman leaped to the box, and off went the turnout at a
speed that threatened each instant to break an axle or a spring.
When safe in the coach, Maul anxiously placed his hand to Neka’s
heart. It still beat, but so faintly that the villain at first could
not feel it, and shivered as from an icy draught.
On and on and still on went the old coach, the horse puffing and
blowing at the extra work put upon him. Central Park was passed and
also the Harlem River, and then they struck a country road upon
which but few houses were situated.
By this time Neka was regaining consciousness. Putting his head out
of a window Maul asked how much farther they had to go.
“About half a mile,” replied Bambo. “Why?”
“He’s coming around and there may be trouble.”
“I’ll come inside,” replied the circus manager.
He hopped down and entered, and on they went again.
Neka began to struggle, but the two men shoved him into a corner and
held him there until the distance mentioned had been covered. Dennis
Groin turned into a side road, and entering an open gateway, brought
the coach to a halt at the side porch of an old house which must have
been built during revolutionary times.
The house was dark from top to bottom. Opening the coach door,
Groin asked for a key. It was handed out by Bambo, and with it the
ex-convict opened the porch door.
A lamp in the sitting-room was lit, and, aided by its rays, Bambo and
Maul managed to carry Neka into the house. Then Groin went out and
took the horse and coach to a stable in the rear.
“Tie his legs first, before you take the bag from his head,”
suggested Maul, and this advice was acted on by Bambo, who also
pinioned Neka’s arms behind him.
When Neka was finally allowed to see where he was, he stared about
him in astonishment. He had recognized Daniel Bambo’s voice, and now
he saw Maul.
“You villains!” he exclaimed. “Why have you brought me here? Do you
wish to kill me?”
“Gently, Neka, not so loud,” replied Daniel Bambo. “Don’t git
excited, for it won’t do you no good nohow.”
“Answer my question--why have you brought me here?”
“Cos we like yer company, that’s why,” put in Hank Maul,
sarcastically.
“You have no right to strike me down and make me a prisoner.”
“Wall, we took the right, Neka.”
“You are a pair of rascals.”
“No compliments,” growled Daniel Bambo. “Yer seem ter forgit thet I
have a lawful hold on ye.”
“You have nothing of the sort, Daniel Bambo. If you think you have,
let us go to law and find out.”
At this direct thrust the circus manager’s face changed color. He
paused for a moment, then shook his fist in Neka’s face.
“You little imp, I’ll git square with you yet, mind my word! I
brought you up and helped you to become a so-called Fire King, an’
I’m not going to take a back seat now, when you’re makin’ money,
dollars on dollars.”
“But what are you going to do with me?”
“You’ll see fast enough. Hank, go and see if the room is as we left
it.”
Hank Maul slipped into the front hall. He was gone but a minute.
“All right,” he grinned.
“Then catch hold,” muttered Daniel Bambo.
Between them they raised Neka up and carried him out into the hall
and up a pair of broad stairs.
At the rear of the upper hall was a small room, the single window of
which was tightly nailed up from the inside.
Into this apartment, no better than a prison cell, the rascals thrust
Neka.
“In the morning we’ll come to terms,” remarked Daniel Bambo, and off
the pair went, closing and bolting the door, leaving Neka a close
prisoner in the dark.