AN ACROBATIC FAILURE.
It would be hard to analyze Neka’s feelings as he found himself in
the close confinement of the room and bound hands and feet.
Why had they brought him to this place? What would be the outcome of
this strange and unexpected proceeding?
“They must have been laying for me,” he thought. “And they went at me
as soon as they learned how successful I had been.”
The room was pitch dark. The captors had deposited him on a chair,
and here he remained while Bambo and Maul went below. A little
later he heard Groin come in from the stable and then the three men
proceeded to the front of the house, and all became quiet.
One thing made Neka smile to himself, despite the grimness of his
otherwise helpless condition. This was the fact that Bambo and
Maul had bound him, blissfully forgetful of the fact that among
the numerous juggling tricks he had learned was that of loosening
himself, no matter how bound.
“That trick will come in useful now,” he thought. “I wonder how long
they intend to remain away?”
He waited a few minutes, then, as no sound reached him, began on his
bonds. Several twists and slick movements, and the ropes on his arms
dropped to the floor. Those on his feet speedily followed.
Neka was without a light, or even so much as a match, and the prison
room was pitch dark. He felt his way about the walls with great
caution, being careful not to stumble over any article of furniture
or to make any noise.
The survey was not encouraging. The window was boarded over, and he
rightfully guessed that the blinds outside were also nailed up.
“They had this all planned beforehand,” he reasoned. “They have some
deep scheme which they intend to work against me.”
But though escape seemed hopeless, Neka was not the lad to give up
thus easily. Finding it useless to attempt to open the window, he
tried the door.
An extra bolt had been placed on the outside, making two, one at the
top and the other at the bottom. They were large and screwed on, and
as the door was heavy, it refused to either bend or break.
In one corner of the room was another door, closed and locked. But
the lock was only a common one, and Neka easily pried the door open.
Beyond was a closet scarcely two feet square.
Chagrined at finding no opening, Neka was about to leave the closet
when something prompted him to examine the flooring and ceiling.
Standing on the chair, he reached up, to find that the closet
was apparently without a ceiling. He braced himself against the
white-washed sides and raised himself up. Soon he struck a couple of
beams, and pulling himself up still further, he sat astride of them.
By the cold wind which swept around him Neka knew that he was now in
the open garret of the old house. The early snow had sifted through
the roof, and a pile lay close to Neka’s hand, some of which he took
up and placed on the lump on his neck where Maul had struck him.
At the front end of the garret was a window, and to this Neka
hurried, fearful that each instant his escape would be discovered.
In running across the garret he stumbled on a pile of rubbish. He
raised himself, and, coming in contact with the wooden roller of a
window curtain, picked it up to use as a club should the necessity
for action of that nature arise.
Reaching the window, Neka opened it and looked out. The ground was a
good twenty-five feet below. The front piazza was a small one and not
in line with the window, but to his left.
“Oh!” said Neka to himself, presently.
He had not thought of the garret stairs. Sure there must be some way
of reaching the second floor from the garret.
Neka took four steps to the rear, and then he found the stairs, but
not in the manner desired. His left foot struck the top stair, he
slipped and then went down to the bottom with a crash, sending the
door open with a tremendous bang.
By the time he had picked himself up there was a commotion below.
“He is trying to escape!” he heard Daniel Bambo exclaim.
“Let’s go up quick!” replied Maul. “Dennis, you stay below here.”
“Sure and Oi will thot,” replied the ex-convict.
Daniel Bambo and Hank Maul made a dash for the hallway and began to
ascend the steps just as Neka, pretty well shaken up, managed to
regain his feet. The wooden roller had come down with him, skinning a
pair of knuckles as a result, and the boy clutched it desperately.
“Stand back!” he cried, as Bambo, with an angry snarl, leaped toward
him. “Stand back, or I’ll brain you, Daniel Bambo!”
“Hear him!” yelled Bambo, in a rage. “Come on, Hank!”
“I’m comin’,” returned the ex-driver, yet he took good care to keep
well in Bambo’s rear, a thing easy to do, as the upper hallway was
rather narrow.
Too blinded by rage to see his danger Daniel Bambo rushed toward Neka.
Crash! Down came the shade roller, and the circus manager uttered a
loud groan and staggered back.
“Stop! Do you want to kill me, Neka?”
“I told you to keep back,” retorted the boy.
He glanced around. Bambo had fallen up against Maul, and the way
ahead was completely blocked, and this was the only means of getting
below in a regular manner.
But Neka had his wits about him. At his side was the railing which
guarded the side of the open stairway below. Dropping the roller over
this railing, he turned a somersault and followed. Before the two men
could realize the turn of affairs, he was on his feet at the bottom
of the stairs and making for the front door.
“He’s gone!”
“Follow him!”
“Dennis Groin! Stop him!”
At the last call the parlor door opened, and the Irishman rushed out
and confronted Neka. But up came the wooden roller again.
“Out of my way, or I’ll knock you down!” said Neka, sternly, and
Groin, as much stunned as the others, fell back, leaving the boy to
reach the front door unmolested.
But here Neka met with complete failure. The door was locked and the
key gone. Realizing that escape in that direction was cut off, he
turned, and as he did this all three of his captors pounced upon him.
He fought desperately, but was no match for the trio, now careless as
to how brutally they treated him. He was knocked flat on his back,
and while Maul sat on his head, Daniel Bambo flung himself on the
boy’s stomach. With such treatment it was a wonder that Neka was not
killed.
As it was he was once more stunned, and this time so tightly bound
that it was utterly impossible for him to move.
“I was foolish not to remember his tricks with ropes,” was Daniel
Bambo’s comment. “I’ll fix him this trip.”
“We’ll lock him up better, too,” said Hank Maul.
Neka was again removed to the upper prison room, and with a hammer
and some nails, Maul nailed up the closet door. Then Neka was placed
on the cot the room contained and strapped to it tightly. The
work took a long time, but even when it was finished Neka had not
recovered. He lay limp, his face as pale as death and his eyes closed.
“Maybe he’s knocked out fer keeps,” whispered Maul, anxiously.
“Not he,” replied Daniel Bambo, harshly. “He’ll come around some time
before morning. Come on down and let us finish that letter so that
Groin won’t lose any time in posting it.”
And once more the door was bolted on poor Neka and he was left,
bruised and unconscious, to his fate.
[Illustration: “Her thin white dress was aflame.” See page 89.]