At Grips with the Black Shadow
Unconscious of the events at the lodge, Barry crouched in the snow at
the base of the quarry wall and gazed in the direction of the shed into
which the figure in black had disappeared. His whole plan of action had
to be changed, and for the time being he did not know what to do. He had
planned to return to the tool house by way of the tunnel and tell his
friends what he had discovered, but now it was highly dangerous to go
back that way.
“The bale of hay sort of slides down on the trapdoor when you pull it
down,” he thought. “Perhaps he won’t find out that someone has been in
the passageway. I’m glad I closed all doors and walls behind me! But
there may be footprints or something else to give me away. Gosh, this is
a tough situation!”
The man in black was undoubtedly going to the lodge to start his series
of annoyances, and Barry knew that these things would frighten the
girls. Besides preventing that, he wanted more than anything else to
take this prowler a captive, and if it was not done tonight, it might
never be done. He fairly groaned as he saw the hopelessness of the
situation.
“The boys may not get him, and if we lose him this time we’re sunk! If I
had my hunting rifle I’d go back along the tunnel and call on him to
surrender, but I haven’t a thing, and I imagine that the man is armed or
at least able to put up a good fight. It would be suicide to follow him
through the passageway. But I must get back!”
There were just two ways open to him: through the underground tunnel or
by way of the woods. Of course the secret passage was the quickest
route, but it was also the most dangerous. Barry decided not to risk it.
“It will take me a little longer to dash through the woods, but it will
be a heap safer,” he reflected. “If I went through the tunnel and met
the spook face to face, I’d never be able to get away, and I’ve simply
got to get back and warn the people at the lodge!”
Rising from his stooping position, Barry began to run toward the shed.
He did not like the idea of having to pass it, for the man might have
found out that someone had been in the passage, and might have returned
to investigate the vicinity of the quarry. There was a chance that the
black shadow might step out of the shed just as he passed, and if that
happened things would not be well for the boy. But there was no help for
it, and he sprinted past, glancing sideways in some alarm and ready to
increase his speed if need be. The door of the shed, however, remained
closed, and no one challenged him as he sped past.
“Good luck!” he exulted, as he left the quarry and plunged into the
woods. “I made that all right, and now if I can get to the lodge just
about as soon as he does, everything will be all right.”
He did not take the exact path that he and Kent had taken on the night
of the big storm, since they had gone in a roundabout way, but, relying
on chance, he cut across the timber belt in a straight line, hoping that
he was not making any mistake. Running was not easy because the snow was
loose and the under snow had melted and then frozen again, making
slippery footing. Occasionally his foot hit the root of a tree or a
stone, and once he dropped on one knee and only saved himself from a
complete fall by his outflung hands. But he struggled on, determined to
reach the ones in the lodge as soon as possible.
When he reached the edge of the trees he saw the man in black sneaking
from the tool house toward the rear porch of the lodge. At the same time
something happened that caused the black shadow to stop and flatten
himself against the wall of the house and made Barry halt in his run.
There was a sudden stir and some shouts, and then Coach Jordan and the
other boys came running across the porch and jumped into the snow.
Watching with bewildered eyes, Barry thought for a moment that they had
somehow discovered the presence of the black shadow, but they did not
come along the side of the lodge building, but dashed across the snow in
the direction of the Bronson cabin. Barry followed them with his eyes,
and then he noticed that the sleighs were gone. The situation began to
dawn upon him.
“Somebody has taken the sleighs, and the boys are after them. Carter
Wolf said he was going to do something to break up our party, and I
guess he’ll do it in one way or another. Some of those sleighs are
borrowed, and I hope they don’t smash them up in any way.”
He wondered what the man in black would do and once more looked in his
direction. The prowler had been as completely surprised as Barry had
been, and while the boys were running he remained perfectly still,
pressed close against the wall. But now he had glided in swift retreat
to the back porch, which afforded more shelter.
There was another exodus from the lodge as the girls followed the boys,
accompanied by the leaping, barking Castor Oil. Jennie had been feeding
him marshmallows, and he was completely her slave, so much so that, when
Charlie had run out, his clumsy animal companion had watched him go
without any desire to follow him. He was content to run with the girls,
dashing and barking in a wild display of good spirits.
Barry could hear the girls talking, and he watched them disappear down
the slope that led from the front of the Bronson cabin to the lake.
Something had happened down there, and he was anxious to know what it
was, but his duty now was to watch the man who had taken refuge on the
back porch of the hunting lodge. No doubt his plans had been upset as
had Barry’s, and it was interesting to see what he would do under the
circumstances. Would he beat a retreat down the passageway and be lost
to them, Barry wondered? Of course, if the man did, it would be much
safer for them simply to get some officers of the law up there and try
and trace the tunnel and find out where the man lived. But the thought
did not satisfy him. He wanted to catch the prowler on the spot, so that
he would have no loophole through which to escape when accused of
causing the disturbances at Bluff Lodge.
Perhaps the shadow would go back into the tool house and wait until they
got back, so as to produce rappings and noises. If this was his program,
Barry felt sure that he could tackle the man on the spot and hold him
until help arrived, but he would want that help to be pretty near at the
time. No doubt the prowler was armed, as anyone engaged in a desperate
business was likely to be, unless he had scorned to go armed against a
group of high-school boys and girls.
Barry was not left long in doubt. The man had hesitated because he had
been doing some rapid thinking, and at last he had made up his mind.
Leaving the back porch, he ran hastily to the living-room window and
peered in. Then he bent low to escape the light from the fire and the
lamps and passed on to the front, where he crossed the porch and entered
the front door.
Barry guessed his intention at once. The boys and girls had run out and
left many things behind them, among other things some fairly good coats,
and the pocketbooks of the girls were on the table. The black shadow had
made up his mind to take them and get away, and perhaps to come back
with his knocking pranks later on. Knowing the lodge as well as he
seemed to, he would no doubt go out the back as they came in the front.
Fate had put him in position to make a daring and completely successful
raid.
Barry lost no time. Running his best, he left the timber and cut on a
straight line for the lodge. He did not know what the boys were doing
down there at the lake, and he had no time to go and find out. It was
his supreme chance, and he had the feeling that if he lost out now, the
ghostly prowler of Bluff Lodge would never be captured. He leaped to the
porch and ran across it into the dark hall and finally jerked the door
to the living room open, blinking in the light of the lamps as his eyes
swept the interior of the place.
The tall man in the black overcoat, hat, and gloves whirled at the sound
of his coming and turned two burning dark eyes upon him. But if Barry
expected to see his face, he was disappointed. A black handkerchief
obscured all of it except his eyes, which seemed to glare out above the
covering. He had been feverishly picking up coats, hats, and pocketbooks
and was in the act of taking a fur piece belonging to Mrs. Jordan when
Barry burst into the room. As the boy faced him with resolute though
pale face, the man pointed a black-gloved finger at him.
“Get out of here, boy!” he cried, hoarsely. “Get out or you’ll wish you
had!”
Barry had made up his mind, on the way, that talking would be a waste of
time. From the moment that he had opened the door he was preparing for
the struggle that was sure to come. He had opened his Mackinaw coat
while running, and now he dropped it to the floor behind him. Then, even
while the man was pointing at him, he leaped across the floor at the
black-clad figure.
He was tense and his throat was dry as he closed in on the intruder. His
great fear was that the man would draw a weapon and shoot him down. But
the truth of the matter was that he had engaged the man at exactly the
right time. The outlaw had his arms full of coats and other things, and
as Barry grappled with him he was vainly trying to shake a pocketbook
loose, the chain of which had become twisted around his middle finger on
his right hand. This incident, small as it was, gave Barry a fighting
chance.
His arms went around the man, and with a twist the high-school boy swept
his adversary off his feet. They went down with a resounding crash to
the floor, and the black hat rolled off, revealing a rather well-shaped
head with a high forehead. The black eyes seemed to look into Barry’s
face for an instant in surprise.
Then their expression turned to one of deadly hate, and the battle was
on. Only for a moment did the man accept his quick overthrow. In the
twinkling of an eye he was fighting like a tiger, snarling exceedingly
bad language as his eyes seemed to shoot out fire. Barry felt the
muscles under the long black overcoat stiffen and become like steel, and
the fingers that began to creep and grope for his throat were wiry and
powerful. Reaching for one of the man’s hands, Barry was tossed forward,
and his arm brushed the black handkerchief from his face. Only for an
instant did he see the features of his enemy. The man was about forty
years old, with a thin face and small mustache. Just now the veins on
his forehead stood out, and his teeth showed slightly as he exerted
himself to overcome the mystery hunter.
The man launched a blow at Barry which caught him off guard and caused
him to pause in his efforts to pin down the hands of the prowler. The
fist of the stranger landed just under Barry’s chin, and in the pain and
surprise of it the boy hesitated. This was just what the man was waiting
for. His long thin legs came up, one of them hooked over Barry’s neck,
and a mighty tug sent the boy tumbling backward. Before the young
mystery hunter could recover, the black shadow was upon him and strong
fingers had gripped his throat, cutting off his wind instantly. Sudden
fire and aching pain shot through the boy from Cloverfield.
“This is the end!” flashed through his bewildered mind. “I’m completely
beaten!”
At that moment the twins came running in to get a blanket for Carter
Wolf. They paused on the threshold and stared at the scene before them
incredulously.