A SLIP
Frost drove away from the clearing with a confidence that communicated
itself to Nickie. He was talkative, affable and even informative.
Devlin, he told them, had searched out the abandoned house after his
talk with the old hermit when they had had a breakdown with their car
some ten miles from the bog. Their hunt hadn't been an easy one--they
made the journey three times before they found the place.
"But the boss is that persistent," the man was saying. "He don't give
up. That's why I ast you kids to tell the dicks as soon's you get out,
'cause if he don't find you by tonight, he'll be hoppin' off after me."
"Did he tell you anything about poor Timmy, huh?" Skippy asked. "Did he
tell you that he come back that night?"
"He didn't tell me nothin' about him excep' that he had trouble," Frost
answered truthfully. "But I know what you kids think about it--I think
the same thing. He said he could never go to Albany and collect on
Timmy so you know what that means without me tellin'."
Skippy couldn't talk about it--it was all too horrifying. Nickie must
have felt the same way for he was silent and his dark eyes kept to the
narrow woods trail as if he dared not look on either side. Somewhere in
that bog was Timmy, free from Devlin at last.
They rode along in silence after that and though they were all a bit
nervous they felt that courage would come when a safe distance had been
put between them and the terrible house. Though Devlin was not there in
body he seemed to be there in spirit, and they longed to get out of the
woods and into the open where he could no longer wield his power.
It was about five o'clock. Bits of warm sunshine filtered through the
higher branches of the trees but below the shadows were gathering and
where the growth was thick a gloom had already penetrated.
When they had been riding for some little time, Frost said, "The boss
is goin' to see Smithson, the insurance man, I think. He lives in
Hillbriar near that doctor you went to see. He must have some place
else to go, I been thinkin', 'cause it wouldn't take him that long to
just go there."
The boys were about to agree when they rounded a turn in the narrow
trail and saw just ahead the path which Devlin had seemed so interested
in on that memorable Monday night. Also, they saw Devlin sitting in his
car as if he had just climbed in and was ready to start away. He was
headed in the same direction that they were.
Frost swerved the car with such force that it almost turned on its
side. "Scram, kids!" he said hoarsely. "I'll have to too! He'll
know--he'll know I'm double-crossin' him!"
Skippy was out of the coupé with Nickie jumping after him. They grasped
hands instinctively, and broke through the thick brush running blindly,
wildly, but running as they had never run before. Devlin's terrible
voice seemed to follow them everywhere for his shouts rang out time and
again and they heard Frost scream several times.
Not once did they look back. They could hear the crackling brush and
they thought that Frost must be somewhere in their wake. They thought
no more about the man than that for they were too intent on their own
preservation. They must not, at any cost, stop until Devlin's funereal
echoes were left far behind.
Darkness had almost overtaken them before they had the courage to sit
down and rest on a fallen log. Muddy and scratched from head to foot,
they would have presented a comical picture if it had not been for the
piteous expression on their faces. Mosquitoes had already got in some
of their work as the great red lumps on their hands and foreheads
indicated.
"We gotta slap mud on thick, Nickie," Skippy said wearily. "I read once
about a kid what was lost in a swamp and he did that and saves his
life. These blamed things can eat a feller up--you know it?"
"I feel like I'm ate up a'ready," Nickie answered pathetically. "Kid,
you think we gotta stay in this graveyard all night?"
"It's night now an' where are we? There's no use stumblin' 'round in
the dark, is there? We might walk plunk into that bog an' you heard
yourself what Frost said about it. You don't get out once you walk into
some parts."
"Wonder where Frost is, hah? I don't remember when we stopped hearin'
him behind us. I s'pose we oughta stopped, but honest, kid, I felt like
Devlin most had wings, his voice sounded so near all the time."
"Frost knows this place better'n we do. Gee whiz, I wish he coulda kept
up with us. But he didn't, so we gotta make the best of it. I'm 'fraid
to lie down in the mud, ain't you, Nickie?"
"You said it, kid! The mosquitas'll bite right through our pants. Guess
we'll have to be like the birds an' roost in a tree all night, hah?"
"Yeah, I was thinkin' that too. Gee, we won't get much sleep--we
_can't_ sleep, 'cause maybe we'll fall out!" Skippy yawned with
exhaustion. "We gotta take turns watchin' each other."
They gave up that plan after a half-hour's sentry duty on two of the
lower limbs of a poplar tree. Not only were their positions
uncomfortable, but the mosquitoes annoyed them despite their masks of
mud. Then, too, an owl had taken up its position in a nearby tree and
hooted into the awful darkness until they felt they could stand it no
longer.
"Sounds like Devlin," said the superstitious Nickie. "Sounds like his
spook."
"How can it be, if he ain't dead?" Skippy whispered back.
"Aw, ain't my aunt told me that some guys is so bad, they have
infloo-ence on things 'round them? Well, I heard owls near that house
like you did, an' how do you know Devlin didn't put the bead on one of
'em an' make it just like he is?"
"Pretty soon you'll be tellin' me you believe in imps an' all that
stuff in fairy stories," Skippy said, with a little laugh.
"Aw, shut up!"
Skippy was silent, for the owl had taken the stage and drowned them out
completely.