AT THE OLD TAVERN
Phil offered no objection, but took the walking stick and at once
entered the porch, making as little noise as possible. Billy came close
behind, feeling the rubber tube to make sure that it could stun, if not
kill, when handled with due precision and force.
As has been stated before, portions of the porch floor had been
previously broken in, where the elements had too heavily tested the
wood. Phil finally passed into the office without making any noise but
Billy was not so lucky. Despite his care, he misjudged where he trod
when he was near the doorway, when there was an ominous crackling sound
under his last footstep.
"Cr-r-r-r--a-c-c-k!" Down went his leg, clear above his knee. In the
effort to rise, down went the other leg with a similar crunching
crumble, and there was Billy submerged, so to speak, to the waist. Nor
did it stop there, for under the porch was a cellar that extended pretty
well under the fore part of the ancient building.
For half a moment Billy's form remained waist deep under the porch, when
from below there came another crackling, crunching sound, and Billy
began to descend at first slowly, as the rafters over the cellar began
to collapse. Then down he went amid a cloud of dust from the rotting
woodwork, as with a feverish exclamation he vanished from sight. Just at
this instant Phil wheeled, startled by the noise Worth was making and
started to whisper a cautionary "Silence!"
At this juncture Billy vanished from sight, though Phil heard him, as he
struck the earth of the partially filled cellar, give voice as follows:
"Hullo, Phil! I'm gone!" And that was all Phil then heard from Billy.
Just then there came a scuffling noise from the interior, where a door,
partially open, led from the old office to the rear room. Knowing that
someone must be inside, for the noise was not from where Billy had gone
down, Phil grasped his cane harder and dashed through the open door into
the back room where he had before seen the forge and the tools, which he
had not been able to understand at the time.
Right in front of him was another open door, beyond the hastily
constructed forge; and down what seemed to be a cellar stairway he could
see the head and shoulders of a man. The stranger was struggling upward,
impeded by some burden he was carrying with difficulty.
It was difficult in the half light that filtered through the overhanging
shade trees without to distinguish anything distinctly. All Phil could
see was that the man wore a slouch hat, combed with cobwebs from the
cellar region below. All at once came the conviction to the lad:
"This must be Dippy, whom the other was calling for so often."
With this came Phil's resolve to boldly move up and prevent this
mysterious fellow's escape. He dashed forward, calling out:
"Halt, you! Give an account of yourself! I--"
Here the stranger, dropping the bundle he was carrying, attempted to
spring up the last two steps, at the same time reaching behind and
pulling forth something small that glittered in the semi-twilight. What
could it be--a pistol? At the mere thought, Phil leaped nearer, struck
at the glittering toy, while the descending blow knocked the fellow's
hat off and, partially stunning him, sent him back down the gloomy
stairway. The lower end of this was shrouded in deeper gloom, though
some light from a cellar window shed a little pale glow from the outside
daylight.
Following closely, Phil began to stumble down the stairway, when he
heard another's unmistakable advance below. For Billy, still armed with
the rubber tube, had heard the mix-up going on above, together with
Phil's loud tones and the succeeding fracas; and he saw dimly the
tumbling of some bulky weight, followed by the heavier fall of a man's
body.
"Great goodness!" thought Worth. "Can that be Phil?"
With the thought he scrambled forward over heaps of loose earth to the
firmer floor of the main part of the cellar, until he stood over a
figure trying to rise. At the same time down stumbled his comrade,
saying:
"I'll get you yet--mind that!"
Satisfied now that it was not Phil at his feet, Billy brought down his
heavy rubber tube over the man's head, who sank back uttering a groan of
pain. At the same time Phil, reaching the bottom of the stairway, saw
something twinkle in the dirt at his feet. He picked it up.
"Here is the pistol he was trying to shoot me with, Billy. Don't let him
up while I feel for some cord I brought along."
Billy, standing astride the prostrate man, took the pistol, a small
affair. As the stranger groaned and moved Billy gave him another sharp
tap with the tubing that seemed to settle his hash, as the boys later
expressed it.
Fingering the weapon, Billy found that it was loaded, all except one
chamber. He looked up, saying:
"I bet a nickel against a cent that this is the same pistol that
shot--what's his name?--Horr."
Meantime Phil, having produced several cords that he had taken from the
tool box of the Six, proceeded to bind the stranger's wrists together
behind his back as he lay half stunned by Billy's attack. While so
doing, he stumbled against a heavy object that proved to be a cheap
suitcase, filled by something that rattled metallically as it was moved.
Having tied the man's wrists, they half carried him up the stairway,
through the back room and into the old office. Here Billy stood guard
armed with the tube and the pistol. This last they discovered was enough
like the one Billy had at home to be its mate. Also one chamber being
empty, Phil at once felt sure--with Worth--that they now held the very
weapon that had been fired at Horr, the supposed comrade of the man now
recovering his senses at their feet.
"Watch him close, Billy," cautioned Phil, "while I go below and get that
suitcase, and look around a little before we go back to Feeney's."
"Don't be uneasy, Phil. I'll watch him all right. Ain't I just getting
even for the way those two did me when they ran away with our car?"
While Phil was gone below the stranger, recovering his senses, and
seeing only a boy standing over him, looked up with cunning, yet
imploring eyes.
"Say, kid," he weakly began, "that was a bad blow you hit me. My head's
about to bust. You've tied my arms too tight. Please loose me. I won't
do anything."
"No, you won't! Not while I'm in sight! Remember how you and your pal,
who's been calling on you constantly, did for me when you caught me fast
asleep? Not much will you get away! Just bank on that, will you?"
"I mean all right, boy. 'Deed I do! Just came back here for a few things
that belong to us. Be a good boy. Turn me loose. I'll go with you all
right."
"No, you won't! We don't trust you. Besides that, your pal's begging us
hard to fetch 'Dippy' back. Wants to see you and ask you why you shot
him after stealing our car. Do you catch on?"
At this the man, whose head and shoulder was bruised and aching from the
effect of Billy's rubber tube, seemed to give up. But Worth had one more
arrow. He produced the pistol, showed the man the one empty chamber, and
said:
"Look here, Quinn. That's your name or the one you go by, for Horr said
it was. See that empty cartridge? I know these Smith & Wesson
twenty-twos, for I've got one at home myself. We got the bullet, too. It
glanced off and came out. You might as well own up now and thank your
stars you didn't kill your pal, or you would be in for murder as well as
these other jobs."
But before the man could make any rejoinder back came Phil with the
suitcase which seemed quite heavy. In the other hand he carried the
stranger's black felt hat, from which Phil had brushed most of the dust
and cobwebs and placed it on the man's head as he now sat leaning
against the edge of the tottering counter behind which the boys had
found Billy after his capture by the two who attempted to escape with
the Six.
"Can you stand and walk?" queried Phil. "We've got to put you in our
car; the one you and Horr tried to steal."
The man, now sullen enough, made no reply. Without more ado they helped
him up and started with him towards the porch. Though his hands were
tied, he went grudgingly until he saw the big, yawning open space made
by Worth when the boy fell through both porch floor and the cellar
roofing below. The sight seemed to nerve the man to a final effort.
As they stood at the outer office entrance he suddenly pushed against
Phil on one side and at the same time butted his head into Worth as
forcibly as possible. Worth fell down while Phil, overborne by the
weight of the suitcase, seemed in danger of stepping into the hole in
front. The man, seeing a wild chance, drew back his foot, and was about
to kick at the suitcase as if to send it through the hole in front.
"You would, would you?" grunted Billy, recovering in time to put his
back against the door-facing and administer a push with his foot to the
man, still standing on one leg in the act of kicking at the suitcase.
Down he went, the intended kick going wild. At the same moment Phil,
having dropped the suitcase, sprang upon the man and with Billy's ready
aid, managed to bind both legs fast together, so that he lay helpless.
After that the boys dragged their prisoner across the porch, then they
carried him to where the car stood amid the shrubbery and placed him in
the tonneau.
"Now, Billy," said Phil, "you watch him close. I'll go back, get that
bag of his, shut the doors and come back. Don't take your eyes off him.
He's tricky!"
And Phil again went back while Worth stood over the man watchful and
wary.
He was a sullen looking chap, like and yet unlike the stranger whom,
with his partner, Billy had briefly seen that day at Feeney's. His eyes,
roving about, avoided Billy, while he apparently looked for some further
loop-hole that might offer another chance to resist or afford a possible
escape.
"No good, old man," remarked Worth, standing over him with the tube in
hand, ready for any move the bound man might make. "You've got to go
with us."
"Look here!" suddenly said the fellow. "We've got money--me and my
partner. Why not turn us loose on the quiet? We'll make it all
right--sure."
"How do we know you'll make it all right? Didn't you shoot your own
partner? He says you did. He calls you Dippy Quinn. That your name?"
"Oh, that's nothing! I was reloading the pistol. It went off 'fore I
knew a thing. That's the real goods, boy! As I said, he and me have the
dough. Two hundred of it's yours, provided you'll turn us loose--on the
quiet."
"You're talking to no good, Quinn. I wouldn't be party to turning either
you or Horr loose, not if you placed twice that amount in my hands right
now."
About this time Phil was seen coming, lugging what appeared to be a very
heavy suitcase, evidently packed full of something that weighed about as
much as Phil could carry. At sight of this the man seemed beside himself
with anger. He almost spat in Billy's face as he declared:
"You're both a dirty set of rogues! Yes, both of you! That," pointing at
the packed bag, "is mine--mine and my partner's. We wasn't bothering
you--"
"Oh, no!" laughed Billy. "Come, that's good! All you did was to gag and
tie me and try to steal our car. That's a mere nothing, of course."
Phil, by this time arriving, seated himself at the wheel, putting the
bag beside him. Then he looked warningly at Worth, saying:
"Keep a sharp eye out, Billy. If he gets too obstreperous, just use the
tube. If that don't quiet him, try his pistol."
Then he started the car, steering carefully until they had turned round
and were headed up the old road leading through the timber towards
Feeney's. As the car bumped along over the rough places, Quinn seemed to
be suffering greatly, his tightly bound ankles being the cause of his
present misery.
"Honest, boy," he began, "at least loose my legs! I sprained my ankle
somehow in our scrap back yonder. Besides, there's a boil on my leg.
Just loosen it up a bit--that's a good kid!"
One would have supposed that with the previous experience they had had
with this man, Billy would have given no heed. But Billy, naturally
soft-hearted, saw real tears in the man's eyes. His looks and manner now
were in such sharp contrast to that exhibited when he felt himself on
the verge of an escape that even Worth felt a certain compunction. Could
the man be shamming all the time, first in one way, then in another?
With a side look at Phil, who was watching the road as he steered, he
bent forward as he said:
"Does the cord hurt you like that? Will you promise to be quiet if I
loosen up those leg cords a bit? But mind you, none of your shenanigan,
if I do!"
"No--no--no--course not!" Thus the man mumbled, his breath coming and
going tremulously, but his wet eyes, resting on Billy appealingly,
suddenly changed their expression as Billy's head bent down over the
cord, and a swift, crafty gleam shot from under his treacherous brows,
while Worth was bending over the confined legs. Meantime Phil, trusting
to Billy's watchfulness, was fully occupied with the wheel and the
brakes, for right here was a bad bit of going.
In manipulating the cord so as to loosen it a little--not too much--and
while, in order to deceive Billy, the fellow kept up his groaning,
Billy's fingers were all needed. He hastily tucked under his arm the
tube for a moment, as he contended with a stubborn portion of the knot.
Watching both the condition of the loosening knot and noting that no one
else seemed to be regarding them, the man shoved his legs apart. At the
same time he seized the tube with both hands, jerking it from the arms
of Worth. Then, springing to his feet, he raised the tube upward--all in
the twinkling of an eye, so to speak.
With one shoulder he pushed Billy heavily, so that the boy dropped back
into his seat just as Quinn levelled a quick blow across the tonneau at
Phil, still busy at the wheel. The blow came as a complete surprise to
the latter, still fully occupied with the wheel and the brakes.
Fortunately Phil happened to bend forward in shifting gears, and the
blow aimed for Phil's head fell glancingly along his shoulder. Even then
the force was temporarily paralyzing.
The boy shrunk still further forward under the blow, the movement
causing him to press his foot on the brake. Hence they began to slow
towards a stop. With his faculties still shaken, he mechanically threw
on the halting gear, thus bringing the car to a gradual stop.
Meanwhile Billy, seeing at once how he had been duped, raised up so
forcibly that he bumped against the prisoner, who was trying to throw
himself from the tonneau to the ground, his legs now being practically
loose.
"Ha, you will, eh?" gasped Worth. "I'll show you!"
Reaching forth he grabbed a leg of the leaping fugitive, holding on for
dear life, so that instead of alighting on his feet, the fellow actually
fell forward over the tonneau with his head and arms dragging along with
the car. Reaching the earth, the man managed to wrench free from Billy's
clutch and finally kick himself loose, though with his arms still bound.
Meantime Phil, having recovered, was already climbing from the car, and
as the man scrambled to his feet he started in pursuit.
"After him, Phil!" shouted Worth, bursting through the tonneau door. "He
fooled me! Don't give up! I'm behind you!"
From then on it became a sharp though short race. First the fugitive,
his hands tied behind, bareheaded, straining every nerve. Just in his
rear came Phil, with every muscle doing double duty, reaching forward to
grab him who fled. A yard or two behind was Billy, doing a stunt in
rapid running that might have surprised him a few minutes before.
The man was agile enough, though doubtless tired. Besides this his arms,
inconveniently bound behind his back, doubtless interfered with his
running. One result was that after several futile grasps, Phil was at
last able to fasten his grip on the man's tied arms. From that to
passing an arm round his neck and hanging grimly on was but momentary.
Then in came Billy, fairly frothing over the manner in which he had been
tricked by the captive just when he was trying to make the stranger less
uncomfortable. Between them they soon had him down on the ground where
he writhed, kicked and twisted about in a climax of sheer desperation.
Doubly exasperated, Billy managed to get hold of a stout, short bit of a
club from amid the fallen litter of the woods, and brought it down
smartly on the man's head. It raised a welt, but he continued to
struggle, though with decreasing force. Evidently he was becoming
exhausted. Suddenly Worth jerked out his handkerchief, saying at the
same time:
"Gimme yours, Phil--quick!"
Phil not only complied, but resumed holding down the stranger so
effectively that in another minute Worth soon had his legs bound fast
again.
"Now let's drag him back to the car and be off," remarked Phil. "Really
the way that chap acts causes me to feel sure we've made a haul that the
law will more than sanction. Yet I won't feel safe until we have him
back at Feeney's."
The prisoner was lifted in the car where Billy stood over him, with
pistol and the tube club ready for instant use if necessary. Without
further trouble the Big Six sped along the rough roads until at length
Feeney's house was reached. What was their surprise to see another car
drawn up before the yard gate, while two strange men were coming out of
the house, evidently in a great hurry, preparatory to entering their own
machine.