BOB AND FRANK STAND TOGETHER
By Frank Landes’ manner Bob knew that the young man meant what he said.
“They ought to receive a warm reception,” returned the young
photographer. “But do you think it will pay to stay here and fight
them?”
“What else is there to do?”
Bob pointed to the door leading to the hall-way.
“We can run away while they are trying to get in at the window,” he
suggested.
“But I am not dressed.”
“Slip on your clothes. I’ll shut the window and lock it, so they will
find themselves foiled, and have to come back to the door.”
As Bob spoke, he rushed over to the window and tried to close it.
But for some reason the lower sash refused to budge, even though in his
excitement he struck it several times along the edging.
“I had the same trouble when I opened it,” said Frank, who was hurrying
into his clothing as rapidly as possible.
“The confounded thing won’t come down, and that settles it,” cried Bob,
hopelessly.
“Never mind, let it go. I am ready to start.”
Frank moved swiftly toward the door and unlocked it. As he did so, the
face of Raymond appeared at the window.
“Quick!” whispered the young man, and he flung open the door for Bob to
pass through.
The hotel-keeper saw at a glance that something was wrong. He whispered
a few words to his companion, and Casco at once leaped into the chamber.
“There are two of them!” cried the scar-faced man. “You didn’t say he
had a roommate.”
“He didn’t have. Stop them!”
Frank and Bob had passed into the hall-way. Casco made after them as
noiselessly as possible.
In moving toward the stairs the two had to pass close to a
dimly-burning lamp. As they did so, Casco uttered a cry of amazement.
“That is Bob Alden with him! How did he get in?”
“The boy from the freight train?” queried Raymond.
“Yes. We must catch them. They have most likely overheard what was
said. Come on!”
Down the stairs went Frank and Bob, two steps at a time, with Casco and
Raymond in close pursuit. The scar-faced man began to yell, but the
hotel proprietor stopped him.
“Remember, the hotel is half full of guests,” he said. “We must
overcome them without too much noise.”
Once in the lower hall, Bob and Frank turned toward the front door. It
was locked, but the key was handy, and they had it open in a trice.
“Now which way?” questioned the young man when they were outside.
“It doesn’t make any difference. Come on!”
Away dashed Bob, with Frank directly behind him.
The way was dark, and the young photographer had scarcely proceeded a
dozen steps when he tripped over some stones and went down.
Frank came down on top of Bob, and before either could rise, Casco and
Raymond were upon them.
“We have them,” said Raymond.
“Don’t you dare to move!” cried the scar-faced man.
The darkness was unfavorable to any kind of fair fighting, and every
one went in as best pleased him. Casco was a powerful man, but Bob was
thoroughly aroused, and he fought so skilfully that the scar-faced man
was soon retreating.
The young photographer followed him up, thus becoming separated from
Frank and Raymond.
At length Casco turned and fled toward the brook, and jumping over,
disappeared in the brush and darkness beyond.
Bob knew it would be folly just at present to attempt to follow the
man, and after a moment’s hesitation he returned to the spot where he
had left Frank and Raymond.
The two had disappeared!
“Hullo, Frank!” called out the young photographer. “Where are you?”
No answer came back to the cry save the baying of a couple of hounds in
the barn, and Bob at once became more alarmed.
“What’s the row?” asked a voice from the hotel piazza.
The scuffle had attracted the attention of several of the men who were
making a night of it in the bar-room.
“Have you seen anything of Raymond?” asked Bob.
He knew it would be worse than useless to ask any of those men for
assistance.
“He’s up-stairs,” returned another of the men.
“You are sure he is up-stairs?” went on Bob, ignoring the question.
“He went up there a while ago. I haven’t seen him since.”
Bob was perplexed. It was more than likely that the man spoke the
truth, and this being so, what had become of Raymond and Frank?
Fearful of being questioned further, Bob moved toward the back of the
hotel again, while the men, muttering something he could not catch,
re-entered the bar-room.
As Bob walked toward the brook, he fancied he heard a low cry coming
from behind the barn, which was built close to the water’s edge.
He hurried in the direction, and caught a faint glimpse of two forms
struggling behind a number of bushes.
Coming closer, he saw that Raymond had Frank by the throat and was
forcing him over into the water.
As Bob dashed forward, there was a splash, and Frank went over, while
Raymond caught up a club to hit him should he attempt to rise.
“Don’t you dare to strike, Raymond!”
At the sound of Bob’s voice the hotel-keeper turned quickly.
“What do you want?”
“Let my friend up.”
“Hit him, Bob,” exclaimed Frank, faintly.
“Where is Casco?” asked Raymond as he began to retreat.
“Never mind,” returned the young photographer.
By this time Frank had managed to crawl from the brook. His head was
bleeding from a severe gash over the forehead.
“Look out for him, Bob,” he cried.
“I am looking out. Are you badly hurt?”
“My head feels rather queer.”
“What shall we do with this fellow?”
“He ought to be locked up.”
“Neither of you can do it,” sneered Raymond. “You don’t know me.”
“Yes, I do,” said Bob. “You are the toughest road-house keeper in the
country.”
“Thanks for the compliment.” Raymond mused for a moment. “I will make
a bargain with you. Quit the place at once and we’ll drop the whole
matter.”
“We sha’n’t leave you until you are safe in jail,” burst out Bob.
At these words Raymond burst into a laugh.
“You don’t know what you are talking about. You, a mere boy, expect to
do what no officer around has been able to accomplish. Get out of here
before I set my blood-hounds on you!”
As Raymond spoke, he darted around the corner of the barn before Bob
had time to stop him.
Then they heard him utter a cry that was immediately followed by the
deep baying of a hound.
“We had better get out of here!” cried Frank. “He has two of the
ugliest blood-hounds you ever saw.”
“I’ll give you one minute to get away in,” sang out Raymond. “After
that I’ll leave both my dogs loose.”
Raymond muttered something under his breath. Then there was a rattling
of chains, and the next minute two ferocious blood-hounds bounded out
into the yard.