AT THE CROSS-ROADS
"Escape for thy life; look not behind thee, neither stay thou in all
the plain."--Gen. xix, 17
Down the road the children trudged, mud-smeared from head to foot,
their little, bare legs scratched and bleeding, their hair matted and
unkempt, clad in tattered, non-descript garments, hungry and weary to
the point of exhaustion but in a veritable transport of delight.
They had escaped from the ogre! They were free!
Oh, what joy it was to look about them and view the sunlit landscape
and admire the flowers that grew by the roadside without dread lest
the harsh voice and still harsher hand of "ole Pete" descend upon
them.
With the vitality and exuberance of childhood they laughed and
prattled, asking Mollie question after question and holding up
flowers and shrubs for Baby Doris to smell of, and clutch at while
she laughed her silvery, tinkling laugh and displayed her tiny white
teeth and dimples.
But Mollie hurried them all on. "Thar hain't time yit fer
foolishment," she warned them. "Sumpin' may happen. We doan want
ole Pete ter ketch us ag'in."
"Shore don't," supplemented one of the boys.
"An' thar hain't ary boat thet I kin see, 'cept thet one sort o'
settin' aroun' 'way out thar." Mollie pointed to where the police
boat, "Mary Ann," was drifting with the current out in the middle of
the river.
The children withdrew more and more to the side of the road where
berries were growing along the fence and they could eat as they went.
They were inclined to loiter. The tots were all so worn out by the
events of the morning that any one of them could have dropped down in
the grass and fallen asleep in less than five minutes.
A strange noise in the distance made them turn their heads to look
back in the direction whence they had come. Instantly every one of
the little band, even Mollie, scurried for cover with as much speed
as if the farm bell were ringing and they were climbing into the loft.
"Hit's an injine--an injine--Hit's runnin' away!" shrieked Bobbie.
"Injine nawthin'," retorted Willie. "Whur d'y live 'fore yo' all
come hyar. Hain't yo' ever seed an autymobile?"
Before the question could be answered the speeding car was
sufficiently near for bright eyes peeping from between the leaves of
the blackberry bushes and rhododendron to recognize the tall man
clinging to the running board.
"'Sh! Hit's Pete!"
"Hit's Pete!"
"'Sh! Keep still."
"Oh, Mollie, will he see us? Will he kotch us?"
"'Sh! No. Shet up. D'y want him ter hyar yo'?"
It was a near panic but Mollie averted it, and not a leaf stirred nor
a whisper sounded as the car tore past, carrying with it Messrs.
Bailey, Swazey and Grimes.
"Didja seed him?--Didja seed him?" whispered the children, excitedly.
"He war a-hangin' on like he war afeared he'd fall off."
"I wisht he would."
"Oh, Johnnie! Doan say thet."
"Well, I do," persisted the boy. "He hurted me awful."
Willie, who had been following the car with his eyes, suddenly
extended his arm, pointing to where another car, tearing along at
even greater speed, was coming down a slight incline almost at right
angles with the road along which the Grimes and Bailey car was
traveling.
"Golly!" he exclaimed in great excitement. "Lookit--Lookit! They'll
smash--shore es shootin'--jes' whar them roads cross. Come on--Let's
we-uns run back o' th' bushes hyar an' see does he git killed."
Thrilled by any diversion, the newly emancipated little farm laborers
hurried as fast as they could toward the point where it seemed the
two cars must collide. To their amazement, the men in the car coming
down hill were standing up. Suddenly they commenced shooting at the
other car. Then the men with Grimes began to shoot back. The
children cowered on the ground.
"Lawdy!" gasped Mollie, "hit's a fight!" Her eagerness to see
automobiles wrecked had vanished. "Git back thar--git
back--run--over thar ter th' edge o' th' river, whar they won't see
us."
Bullets were flying all about them. The children were terrified.
Mollie feared they would cry out and so apprise Grimes of their
presence. She herded them together as closely as possible and
hurried on. The noise of the shooting seemed to deafen them. Leathy
was crying again. Suddenly they found themselves in a little
clearing. There was a platform, like a little bridge, and a shed.
They sped along it breathlessly without in the least knowing where
they were going and Mollie, running ahead, thinking principally of
getting the baby sheltered from that hail of bullets, rushed straight
on, across a narrow plank and into the cutest little house the
children had ever seen. In less than a minute they were every one
across the plank and, with Mollie, snuggled down under beds, behind
chairs and under tables in the small room in which they found
themselves. They were none too soon.
Footsteps were coming close behind them. The next instant two men
dashed in breathlessly and shouted:
"Louis--Louis!"
The children crouched closer in their hiding places, hardly daring to
breathe.
"He must have gone," said one of the men. "He knew he was to take
the car. He's probably up near the road. Get her started, Bill.
Hurry, damn it! The engine's going."
Thumping, bumping noises sounded. The house commenced to shake and
quiver. The children could feel it moving, faster and faster. What
was it, they wondered. A boat?
"I reckon so," whispered Mollie in reply to the question. The little
ones clutched one another's hands and held their breaths. It must be
a boat. They found themselves swaying from side to side. Cautiously
peeking out, Mollie found that they were alone in this queer little
room. Where were the men? She reconnoitered.
Yes, there they were, up in front. One was turning a wheel just like
the wheel that had been on her father's boat. Oh, glory! They were
actually on a boat and sailing away, she didn't care where, away from
Grimes and his old farm forever!
But there was little time for rejoicing. They were still in danger,
it seemed. That man at the wheel looked like someone she had seen
before. She was trying to think where. Then another shot rang out.
It came right across in front of the boat. The man turned the craft
to the left. Another shot sounded.
Mollie looked in the direction the shots came from and observed the
boat she had previously seen loitering idly out in the middle of the
river. It seemed to be trying to overtake the one on which she and
the children had taken refuge. Were they after them? Had someone
seen them come aboard? Was Grimes, himself, on that pursuing boat?
Oh, why didn't the man at the wheel make it go faster? She watched
his every motion.
He seemed to be terribly afraid. He kept looking back over his
shoulder. The dark brown boat was almost alongside. There was lots
of shooting now. Mollie slipped back out of range of the bullets.
But she could still see what was happening.
The man at the wheel was afraid. He was running frantically now and
letting the wheel go all by itself. Another man was running about.
He had red hair and a plaid suit. He seemed more scared than the man
with the dark mustache.
"I'm going to jump," he called to the other. "I'm not going to stay
here and be caught like a rat in a trap. Come on. We can swim.
Dive. Let 'em think we're drowned. We can make the shore anywhere
along here. You can stay if you want to. I'm going."
He sprang up on the rail and plunged into the water. The other man
did the same. Mollie and the children were alone!
When the bullets commenced to fly at the cross-roads and the tires
were punctured, one after another, bringing their car to a halt Peter
Grimes had leaped from the running board and run, as fast as his
withered leg would let him, back along the river road in the
direction he had come.
But the men in the other car were jumping out to pursue the
kidnappers. They were running down the lane to the pier. And they
hadn't seen him! But they might, any minute. He parted a clump of
bushes and ran down a slight embankment. The swamps came in around
here, somewhere, but there was nothing dangerous, so far as he knew,
such as the bog that lay at his door. A shot whistled past his ears,
so close as to make him dodge. Were they shooting at random or had
they seen him? He cowered and shivered in terror. He gave no
thought to his footsteps. Let them lead him anywhere--anywhere so
long as it was away from danger of death out there in the open road.
He plunged, he floundered. He drew forth his lame leg with
difficulty, only to find that the other leg was going deeper into the
mud. A frenzy of terror seized him. He lifted up his voice and
shouted with all his strength:
"Help! Help!"
But the only other sound that broke the summer stillness was the boom
of a gun out on the river where the police boat, Mary Ann, was
chasing a motor launch that was apparently running amuck.