BORDINE AND SHANKS.
The bullet that Andrew Barkswell sent hustling after the fleeing Bordine
went wide of its mark.
The young engineer was moving at such a rate of speed, however, that it
was wholly impossible for him to halt.
He knew not of the near proximity of the creek, and in consequence went
headlong into the foaming current. His head came in contact with a jagged
rock that partially stunned him so that for the moment he sank beneath
its surface.
The swift current buoyed him up, and bore him swiftly from the vicinity.
Dazed and nearly strangled the engineer struggled to save himself from
drowning. In the endeavor his hands came in contact with a floating
plank, which the high water had floated from the bank.
He grasped the plank with a cry of joy. He felt that there was little
danger of his drowning with such a buoy to cling to.
On down the current swept plank and man. At times the float touched the
shore, but in such places the bank was steep and Bordine dared not make
the attempt to land.
Presently, after floating perhaps a mile, the glimmer of a light filled
his eyes.
On swept the plank with its human burden, and soon the light broadened
into a large flame.
It proved to be a fire built on a level bit of ground near the water's
edge. A man sat in the glow of the fire evidently engaged in cooking his
evening meal.
The sharp bark of a dog seemed to startle him.
"What is it, Tige?"
The dog darted down to the edge of the water, looked wistfully at the
stream, then with a final bark plunged into the stream.
He seized one end of the plank and dragged it ashore.
A man, with the water running from him in streams, stood up in the
fire-light regarding the dog-owner. "Hello!" exclaimed the man.
"Hello yourself."
"Who are you?"
"A gentleman of the naval service," answered August Bordine with a
gruesome laugh.
He could not feel prepossessed in favor of the man before him, who was
small of stature, with a deformed body, bushy red hair and beard, one eye
alone visible, the other hidden completely under a black patch.
"Wal," remarked the queer looking man, "you have the appearance of being
a water-fowl anyhow. Come up by the fire and wring yourself, and get the
chills out of your system. I havn't got much of a home to offer you, but
it's good enough for me, and what's good enough for me is good enough for
anybody."
Then the queer stranger led the way to the fire, where the light revealed
the features of the saturated man completely.
"Eh!"
The peddler started and uttered the exclamation as though astonished.
"Now what?" demanded the young engineer as he began to wring himself.
"I reckon I've seen you before."
"It wouldn't be strange."
"Your from Grandon?"
"Yes."
"I git my stock in that town," proceeded Mr. Shanks. "I've seen a heap of
folks, and know a--many who don't know me."
"Undoubtedly."
"You remember seeing me at your house 'tother day don't you?"
"I do not."
"Ain't your name Barkswell?"
"No."
The one-eyed man fixed his single optic on the face of the wet youth in a
glance that was penetrating.
"I swear, but there's a mighty close resemblance."
"There must be. Many people have taken me to be somebody other than I am.
I do not understand it."
"What _is_ your name?"
"Bordine."
"Um!"
The peddler sat down on a log near, and crossing his legs, with both
hands on the back of his dog--he seemed to have only one now--he gazed
thoughtfully into vacancy.
"A strange resemblance," he muttered.
"Permit me to thank you for your kindness, Mr.----"
"Shanks--Hiram Shanks at your service," the peddler filled in.
"I might have drowned but for you. This fire is quite comfortable I
assure you, most comfortable indeed."
The steam rose in a cloud about the engineer as he turned about, exposing
his clothing to the genial heat.
"I was eating a mighty late supper," said the peddler. "Fact is I'm
noways regular at my meals; coz the tarverns won't board me for what it's
worth. I bunk out of doors these warm nights, and don't feel afraid with
Tige for a companion."
"I should imagine not. That dog is a noble fellow."
"Noble! Well, he's the next thing to human, Mr. Bordine. Somebody
poisoned his mate, so't I have to foot it where once I rode in my
carriage. If your anyways hungry, mister, I can give you grub enough such
as 'tis."
The engineer assured the queer fellow that he had no desire to eat since
it was late when he left home.
"How'd you come in the creek?"
Should he tell the true story to this deformed fellow, who had befriended
him? Could there be any harm in it?
"Speak right out, young man. You've been into a muss of some sort, and I
sympathise with you."
"I am glad to hear you say that."
After a moment given to reflection, the engineer told the story of his
being decoyed from home, and of the attempt upon his life by the tramp,
and the man from Grandon.
Not a word did the one-eyed man utter during the recital, but the fire in
that single eye grew to a deeper flame, and he pushed up the black patch
in a way that betokened extreme nervousness.
The eye beneath the patch did not seem defective to Bordine, yet the
slight view he obtained of it was not sufficient to make sure as to that.
When he had finished, the peddler opened his lips to give utterance to
one word:
"Fool!"
"I admit it," returned the engineer.
"Beg pardon, sir," uttered Hiram Shanks, quickly, "but after the warning
you'd had, and the death of the detective, it seems to me that you ought
to have been on your guard."
"So I ought; but it was on account of the detective."
"Don't put yourself out on his account," retorted the one-eyed man
quickly. "The little experience I've had with a litter of that kind it
don't pay to waste sympathy on 'em. Do you know who the fellow was that
got you into this trap?"
"I am not positive. I know I saw the fellow once, and at the Golden Lion
he registered as Mr. Brown."
"Exactly."
After a little more questioning, the peddler assured August that it was
time to turn in.
"You needn't be scared. Tige'll watch out for tramps or other enemies to
honest men."
"I would like to reach home."
"You can't to-night. Twon't be long till morning. Wait, and I will go
with you."
After a little reflection the young engineer consented to this plan, but
he found it impossible to sleep for some time in his damp clothing.
The peddler walked into the shadows, and August saw no more of him until
the dawn of day, when Tige uttered a glad bark and darted into the bushes
to greet his returning master.
August sat up, yet damp and uncomfortable, with an intense, burning fever
in his veins.
"How far is it to the city?" he questioned.
"Four miles."
The young man staggered to his feet, but sank as quickly.
"You are ill, young feller?"
"I--I fear so," groaned August. "I don't believe it will be possible for
me to walk home."
"Of course it won't."
"What shall I do? Can you procure a horse--"
"I can. You must rest here, or at a little shanty up the stream I have in
my mind, until I bring a conveyance. Do you mind?"
"I suppose I must wait. I feel terribly sick and weak."
Then, leaning on the arm of the deformed peddler, August permitted him to
lead him into the bushes, where, against the creek bank, was a small
fisherman's shanty, one side of which was open to the weather.
Here, on an old blanket, the peddler left August to await his return.
Tige was left to guard the sick man, and then Hiram Shanks hastened from
the spot.
It seemed a long time ere the peddler returned, and when he did come, he
brought the most startling news.