“I don’t think you’re really to blame, professor,” said Dick. “Indeed, I have often wondered in the past how you succeeded in warding off the attacks of the fair sex, who are continually besieging you. No one is to blame if he happens to be attractive and fascinating to women.”
The old fellow brightened up a little.
“That’s nonsense, Richard,” he said. “Of course, there was a time when the girls did chase after me more or less, but that’s gone by.”
“You know better, professor. In these days girls are learning to admire men of brains, and talent, and genius. You’ll have to be careful, professor. There’s something about you that fetches them every time.”
Zenas smiled.
“Do you think so?”
“I know it! I want to warn you for your own good. You’ll have to hold them off. If we go to Paris, you’ll have to be on your guard. They’re sure to throw themselves at you. Paris is full of pretty girls, they say, and they’ll keep you ducking. If you were inclined to be frisky, you could have a score of handsome women chasing you.”
“He! he!” laughed Gunn. “That would be embarrassing, but it would be rather exciting.”
He rose to his feet and threw out his chest.
“I don’t know but you are right,” he nodded. “Since crossing the pond I’ve noticed the ladies glancing my way and smiling on me. In London they smiled at me, and in Scotland the Scottish girls were inclined to give me the eye. I used to be quite a chap with ’em, but since getting married I’ve lived retired and kept away from ’em. I’ll have to look out or some of them will be trying to steal me.”
Buckhart turned a laugh into a severe fit of coughing.
“I’m afraid I’ve taken cold,” he barked.
By this time Dick had Professor Gunn thinking himself really a very captivating old chap with the ladies, and he began to tell how he had found it necessary to dodge them all his life.
“Stop it, pard!” whispered the boy from Texas. “If you don’t let up I’ll sure give myself away to him.”
Thus adjured, Merriwell finally quit egging Zenas on, but he improved an opportunity to slip out of the room and leave the professor relating some of his experiences to Buckhart.
Dick descended to the lower rooms of the inn, entering the one to which they had first been ushered by the landlord.
A man in black clothes was half sitting, half reclining in a big easy-chair that was drawn up before before the fire. Evidently he had been perusing a newspaper, over which, made drowsy by the warmth, he had fallen asleep. The paper was spread over his face.
At one corner of the glowing open grate was another chair, and Dick sat down in this.
“A cool night, sir,” he observed, by way of being sociable.
The man did not stir. Evidently he was quite sound asleep.
Dick took from his pocket a tourist’s map and began examining it. The old professor had stated that in a few days they would leave England for warmer countries to the south, but their exact route had not yet been decided on.
For ten minutes or more Dick studied the map closely, becoming quite absorbed in it. At last, although he had not heard a sound or observed a movement on the part of his companion, he was led to glance up quickly, feeling himself attracted by something.
The man in the easy-chair had permitted the newspaper to slip down just enough for him to peer over the upper edge of it.
Merriwell found himself looking straight into a pair of dark, magnetic eyes, which were fixed on him with a steady, intent gaze. As those eyes met Dick’s they did not waver or blink in the least, and thus the two sat perfectly still, Dick holding the map and having his head partly lifted, gazing at each other unwaveringly and in stony silence.
Almost instantly Dick knew he had seen those eyes before. There was something familiar about them. They gave the boy at first a queer, uncanny sensation, and something like a chill, followed by a tingling flush of heat, passed over him.
A sense of danger came to Dick Merriwell. He seemed to feel the influence of a strange, subtle power. Directly he realized that this unknown power emanated from those piercing dark eyes, and it seemed that in his ear his guardian genius whispered an anxious warning.
Immediately the boy roused himself and brought his own firm will to the task of combating the influence whose touch he had so distinctly felt. Summoning his spirit of resistance to the contest, he continued to watch the eyes revealed above the edge of the newspaper.
Neither man nor boy moved a muscle. In dead silence they remained thus, watching each other like panthers about to spring.
The fire glowed warmly on the hearth and a great clock that stood in one corner of the room ticked solemnly and regularly. Outside the wind rose in a great gust and swept with rushing sound through the branches of the trees. Ghostly hands, like those of restless spirits seeking admission from the darkness and the cold, rapped at the casement of a window.
Still the unknown man and the American lad sat motionless, gazing into each other’s eyes.
The unvaried ticking of the great clock began to sound loud as hammer strokes.
Gradually Dick realized that he was obtaining the mastery. He had met and resisted the unknown influence the other was bringing to bear upon him, and his determination was conquering the subtle power of those magnetic eyes.
He called into action all the force of will he could command, knowing that he was defeating the object of the silent man before the fire.
Finally the man uttered a low exclamation of disappointment and anger, and the newspaper fell rustlingly from his face.
Dick sat face to face with Miguel Bunol!
“Curses on you!” hissed the Spanish youth. “Had you not looked up so soon I would have succeeded.”
“Never!” retorted Dick. “It is not in you, Bunol, to conquer a Merriwell.”
“We shall see.”
“I should think you would know it by this time. What are you doing here?”
“That is my business.”
“In which I am somewhat interested. How dare you show your face again?”
“Dare?” laughed the young Spaniard, harshly. “Did you think you could frighten me? Fool not yourself by such a fancy. I have a right to go where I choose, have I not?”
“You might find it unpleasant if you were to appear in the vicinity of Kinross, Scotland, about now. Of course you have a right to go there, if you choose, but you would be arrested if you did so.”
“We are not in Scotland, Merriwell. This is England and the heart of Sherwood Forest.”
“But the law is just as strong here as in Kinross. If Dunbar Budthorne were here he would——”
Bunol snapped his fingers contemptuously.
“He would do nothing at all. Had he sat before me, were he sitting thus now, I’d have him powerless to disobey my command—I’d have him subject to my every wish. I am his master, and he knows it.”
“Still at Lochleven you did not succeed in forcing him into your dastardly scheme—you did not compel him to aid you in your plot to marry his sister.”
“But for you, Merriwell, I should have succeeded. You ruined my plot. That very night, as I fled in a boat across the bleak bosom of the lake, I swore to turn my attention to you, and put you beyond the possibility of baffling me again. Now you know why I am here. What will you do about it?”
The Spaniard asked the question mockingly. He was flinging defiance in the teeth of the young American.
“You have selected a big task, Mig Bunol.”
“But I have sworn to succeed.”
“You will fail utterly and miserably.”
Bunol lifted one hand to caress the thin, black mustache upon his lip.
“That is what you believe,” he said; “but I know I shall not fail. At Fardale I hated you, but I forgot you after I left the school. Never again would I have given you a thought had you not crossed my path in London. You crossed it at a most unfortunate time for me, as then I was on the very verge of accomplishing my great object.”
“And that object was to ruin Dunbar Budthorne and to make his beautiful sister your wife.”
“I love her!”
“You love her! Never! You love nothing but your own selfish, villainous self, Bunol. You were interested in her, and fascinated by her, because of her beauty; but had she been a poor girl you would not have dreamed for a moment of marrying her.”
“How wise you are!” sneered Miguel, shrugging his shoulders. “Even if that is so, what does it prove?”
“It proves that you are a fortune hunter of the lowest and most contemptible sort.”
“Is it such a crime to be a fortune hunter, as you call it? What are the ruined and penniless noblemen of Europe who seek marriage with American heiresses?”
“You are not even in the class of those men, for, though they may be cads, and snobs, and weaklings, and utterly lacking in manly qualities, few of them are downright scoundrels and desperadoes. At least, they have titles to give in return for the wealth their rich wives will bring them; but you have nothing to give.”
“Yah!” snarled the Spaniard, showing his white, gleaming teeth. “You say things that sting, but some day your tongue will be silent with death!”
“Your threats do not disturb me in the least, Bunol, for I am confident that I shall live to see you hanged, as you justly deserve to be. Bunol, your power is broken and your great scheme has come to naught. You may as well seek other victims, for never again will your fingers handle a dollar of Budthorne’s money.”
With a sneer on his dark face, the Spanish youth had listened to Merriwell’s words.
“It is a great wonder you think yourself!” he cried. “You think you have defeated me. How little you know me, boy! Did you imagine you had thrown me off the track and would see me no more while abroad? I am here. From Edinburgh you I followed to Glasgow, from Glasgow to Dublin, from Dublin to Manchester, Sheffield and here. I chose this spot to appear to you again and to let you know I am on your track. All this time you have known nothing of it, and you have thought me frightened by what happened in Scotland. While you remained in Scotland I did not care to appear, as I knew you would try to have me arrested.
“In Dublin there was no reason why I should make myself known, nor yet in Manchester or Sheffield. Here we are far from any town and in the heart of a forest. True, your friends are within call of your voice if you lift it; but I, too, have friends ready to spring in on us at a signal. My friends are all armed, and it is short work they would make of two boys and a cowardly, withered old man. Ha! ha! Call, if you like! I am willing; I am ready. Utter a shout, and by the time your friends get down to this room you will be lying on this hearth in your blood.”
“Are you trying to frighten me with such talk, Mig Bunol? You should know by this time that I am not easily frightened. You say you have followed me. That is good. While you were doing so Dunbar Budthorne and his sister were getting far beyond your reach. You have followed me in order to be near when they joined us again. That is it!”
Dick laughed triumphantly, for he had stated the reason why Bunol had so persistently dogged him about, and he felt that the fellow had been completely baffled.
Dick’s laughter caused Bunol to turn pale with rage. He saw that the young American regarded him with positive contempt. In Dick he had not aroused an atom of fear—nothing but aversion, scorn and contempt.
“You cannot fool me!” he snarled. “The Budthornes are not very far away. If you live, you will meet them soon. I shall be there.”
“Will you?”
“Yes! I know your cowboy friend has become deeply interested in Nadia, but—bah!—what is he? I can dispose of him so.” Bunol gave a careless flirt of his hand.
“It’s plain enough you do not know the kind of stuff that Brad Buckhart is made of.”
“He is nothing but a blustering braggart.”
“He’s a fighter, every inch of him; fearless as a lion. It was his bullet that pierced the shoulder of Rob MacLane, the outlaw, on the wall of Lochleven Castle, and sent him tumbling to the ground, where his career ended with a broken neck, greatly to the relief of all honest people.”
“Still he is nothing but a blustering braggart, and any man of real courage can become his master. I mind him not. It is you I have set my heart to conquer and crush, and then Buckhart will be disposed of with ease.”
“How do you propose to carry out your little project with me?”
“Don’t think I’ll not find a way. If I chose, you’d never leave this inn alive. You’d never rise from that chair, unless it were to drop dead on this hearth!”
“If all this is true, why don’t you go about it?” cried Dick, his eyes flashing. “I’m watching you! I am waiting for you to begin!”
“I came here to force you to tell me where Nadia is.”
Once more Dick laughed.
“And you fancied you could succeed? You fancied you could force a Merriwell to do your bidding? Bunol, you are a greater fool than I thought!”
“Oh, laugh, conceited idiot!” snarled the Spaniard. “You may be laughing in the face of death!”
“In some ways you are amusing, as well as disgusting. Now I know why you sat so still on that chair and pretended to sleep with the paper hiding your face. Now I know why you permitted the paper to slip down until you could peer over it. You have discovered that with your eyes and your mind you can govern weaklings. Your success with Dunbar Budthorne caused you to think you might hypnotize me, and force me to tell you where you could find Nadia. You have failed. What will be your next move?”
“I have failed, and my next move may be to put you forever out of the way of causing me more trouble.”
“Begin!” was Dick’s challenge. “I am waiting! Do you fancy you can do it alone? or will you call your paid ruffians to your assistance? Call Durbin! Call Marsh! Durbin has none too much courage, and Marsh is a miserable coward. I am here in this room alone. Call them to your aid and let’s have it out!”
“How bold you are!” sneered Bunol, again. “But it is not on such as Durbin and Marsh I depend alone. A closed carriage passed you on the road shortly before you arrived here. I was in that carriage, and with me were men ready to cut your throat at a word of command from me. Should I give the signal they would come with a rush. Better be careful with that tongue of yours. If you do not arouse me too far, I may permit you to live yet a while longer; but in the end you shall die—and by my hand!”
Dick was becoming tired of the talk. He had fancied some one might enter the room, either the landlord or the friends he had left upstairs. Now, of a sudden, he heard a sound of heavy knocking coming from the upper part of the inn, as if some one were pounding furiously on a door.
“Your friends are growing impatient,” said Bunol. “They wish to get out, it seems.”
“Wish to get out?”
“Yes; they are locked in their rooms. One of my men attended to that after you left them, I presume. I gave orders to keep Buckhart and the old man away in case I found an opportunity to meet you face to face. But the place will be disturbed by the racket they are making. I hope you enjoy your supper here and your night’s rest. I’m sorry to say I have decided to leave you. It might be disagreeable if your party and mine were to remain beneath the same roof.”
Bunol started to rise from his chair, as if to depart.
Instantly, without warning and with a great bound, Dick reached the Spaniard and clutched him.
“Wait a minute!” he exclaimed. “Don’t be in such a hurry to go.”
With a furious exclamation, Bunol flashed out a knife and struck at the boy’s throat a blow that was much like a streak of lightning as the steel glinted in the gleaming firelight—a blow impelled by deadly hatred and murderous impulse.
At times Professor Gunn became very garrulous, and on such occasions he invariably insisted that either Dick or Brad should listen to him. If both refused, he was mortally offended.
When Brad saw Dick had slipped away and left him with the old man he feared what was coming, and tried to edge toward the door; but Zenas promptly called him back, urged him to sit down, placed a chair before the open fire, and sat down himself.
“Now we’re comfortable and cozy,” said the old man. “Now we can chat, Bradley. I have a few things I wish to say to you. I have some advice I wish to give you, my boy.”
Buckhart smothered a groan.
“Won’t it keep until after supper, professor?” he asked.
“No, sir. I’ve been waiting for an opportunity to speak with you alone, and this is the time. I have taken note that you are greatly interested in Miss Budthorne. Now, you are young—far too young to fall seriously in love. Wait, sir; let me speak. I am doing this as a father. Indeed, I feel that while we are traveling together I must practically fill the position of father to you. You have some faults. I had faults when I was of your age. I wish to tell you a story, and at the end I will indicate the lesson it teaches.”
Zenas then began a long-winded series of reminiscences about himself and his boyish love affair, to which Brad was forced to listen, little dreaming that in a room below Dick Merriwell and his enemy, Miguel Bunol, were sitting face to face, watching each other with eyes that never wavered.
Only for Professor Gunn’s determination to talk Buckhart would have attempted to leave the room long before he did, and would have made a surprising and annoying discovery that came to him later when he tried the door.
“Whatever’s the matter with this old door?” exclaimed the Texan, when he found it refused to open before his hand.
“Perhaps it sticks,” suggested Zenas.
“Sticks—nothing!” growled Brad.
“Then what——”
“It’s locked!”
“Locked?”
“Sure as shooting.”
“It can’t be.”
“I opine I know when a door is locked,” said the Texan; “and this yere door is locked tight and fast.”
“How could it happen? I’m sure there is not a spring lock on the door.”
“Not at all, professor. I wonder some if this is one of Dick’s tricks. I wonder if he locked us in here?”
“Why should he do that?”
Brad did not explain that he fancied it possible Dick had done so in order to compel him to listen to the old man’s lecture.
“Wonder if there’s no other way to get out,” he growled. “Mebbe the door to the next room is not locked.”
He hurried into the adjoining room, but found, to his further disappointment and disgust, that the door leading from that room was likewise locked.
When Brad returned he began hammering on the door in earnest.
“Look out!” cried Zenas. “You’ll knock a panel out!”
“That’s what I sure will do!” roared the Texan. “I’ll certain bu’st a hinge off if Dick doesn’t hike this way and open things up.”
“Perhaps he didn’t lock the door.”
“Then whoever did? That’s what I’d like to know.”
A sudden thought flashed through Buckhart’s head. What if this locking them in was a trick to keep them away while an attack of some sort was made on Merriwell?
“I can pay for the door,” he muttered; “and I certain ain’t going to keep still when there may be deviltry of some sort going on.”
Then he backed off a few steps and made a rush and a spring, flinging his shoulder against the door, with the whole weight of his body behind.
The door burst open with a crash. Brad stumbled out into the hall, nearly falling, but quickly recovering his feet.
As he did so a significant cry came to his ears, proceeding from the lower part of the building.
In another moment he was bounding recklessly down the dark flight of stairs.
In the meantime, Dick was having his hands full with the treacherous Spaniard. Bunol had whipped out his knife with astonishing swiftness and had struck a deadly blow at the boy’s throat.
Quick as he was, however, either Merriwell anticipated the movement or he was quicker, for he dodged and clutched the wrist of his enemy at the same time.
Bunol uttered a low exclamation of disappointed rage, attempting to wrench his knife hand free.
“No you don’t!” exclaimed Dick, holding fast with a grip of iron. “You murderous dog! This ought to be enough to put you behind bars, and I think I’ll see that you go there for a while.”
“You’ll never put me there!” palpitated the Spanish youth.
In the struggle to break away from Dick he dragged the boy back and struck against the chair on which he had been sitting, nearly falling to the floor.
“Furies!” he panted.
For a few moments in the first heat of the encounter Bunol possessed amazing strength, and he kept Dick busy on the defensive, but it was not long before the boy tripped his antagonist and flung him heavily.
The knife flew from Bunol’s hand as he fell, clanging on the stone hearth, to lie gleaming in the glow of the open grate.
Although Dick had thrown the Spaniard, he found Bunol much like an eel to hold. The fellow slipped and squirmed, almost instantly writhing from beneath the American lad.
As the two started up and Dick reached to again clutch his enemy, the landlord came rushing into the room. His eyes falling on the combatants, he paused a second, aghast.
“What does this mean?” he cried.
Brad Buckhart was not a second behind the landlord, and his eyes recognized Miguel Bunol instantly.
A roar broke from his lips.
“Mig Bunol!” he shouted.
But when he sprang to take a hand in the conflict, the strong arm of the landlord blocked him off and flung him back, while that worthy again demanded to know what it all meant.
“Don’t stop me!” snarled the Texan, his face pale with excitement and rage. “Let me get my paws on that varmint! I sure will have his scalp!”
“Keep him away!” cried Bunol to the landlord. “They are ruffians and robbers! This one tried to rob me right here!”
Although Dick had again grasped the Spaniard, the latter once more squirmed from his fingers and managed to recover his feet. Instantly he sprang toward the hearth, on which his deadly knife lay shining brightly in the light.
Dick had no thought of letting the fellow again get that weapon in his hand. Knowing he had saved his life only by the narrowest possible margin, he now launched himself from a half-crouching position at the Spaniard, hurling the fellow aside and against the wall.
“Stand there!” thundered Buckhart.
In Glasgow Brad had purchased a revolver. This weapon he now had in his hand, and its muzzle was turned toward Bunol.
“Stand there, or by the everlasting Rockies, I’ll bore you in your tracks!” declared the Texan.
Dick quickly snatched up Bunol’s knife.
The Spaniard stood at bay, his black eyes gleaming and his breast rising and falling with his panting breathing. He was like a ferocious wild animal that had fallen into a trap.
“See, landlord!” he cried. “Now they are ready to murder me!”
“I’ll have none of this in my house!” grated the innkeeper, and he unhesitatingly placed himself in front of Buckhart, who was thus prevented from using his weapon in case he wished to do so.
Dick took a step toward Bunol.
The Spanish youth saw his opportunity. He did not wait for Merriwell to again lay hands on him. Instead of that, with two pantherish bounds he crossed the floor, and another bound carried him, doubled into a compact ball, straight at a window.
There was a great crashing and jangling of glass as the desperate young villain shot through the window, carrying out sash and panes.
Strange and unusual things were happening at Robin Hood Tavern that night. Perhaps not since the days of the famous outlaw himself had such blood-stirring events happened on that particular spot.
Professor Gunn held up his hands in consternation as the impetuous young Texas hurled himself crashing through the door.
“Dear me! dear me!” gasped Zenas. “What a boy! what a boy! Impossible to restrain him! Impossible to refine him! Sometimes he acts like other people, but at other times——Eh? What’s that?”
The old pedagogue heard the cry that caused Brad to gather himself and go bounding recklessly down the dark stairs.
“Sounded peculiar!” whispered Zenas, listening at the door. “I don’t like it! I fear something is wrong!”
Then he heard excited voices rising from below and distinctly understood Buckhart to shout the name of Bunol.
“Bunol!” gurgled the old man. “That scoundrel! That miserable villain! Is he here? Can it be possible?”
Something stirred in a dark corner of the hall. He saw the thing move and cried out:
“Who’s there? What are you doing? What do you want?”
There were two of them. They came out of the darkness swiftly and were upon him in a moment. Over their faces they wore masks, and the professor gave a cry of dismay as he saw a pistol in the hand of one of them. The weapon was pointed at Zenas, and the man who held it growled:
“Better keep still, guvner! If you raise a noise we’ll ’ave to shoot you, and we don’t want to do hanything like that.”
“Robbers!” whispered the old man. “This place is a den of thieves! We’ll all be robbed and murdered here!”
Had the door not been broken he might have tried to close and hold it against them, but now he was totally defenseless.
“Don’t shout, don’t speak, don’t heven whisper!” commanded the man with the pistol.
“All right,” said Zenas, disobeying the order. “I won’t make a noise. Take my money! I haven’t much. Be careful with that deadly weapon! It might go off by accident!”
They entered the room, while the commotion below continued.
“Hif you’re sensible, guvner,” said the one with the pistol, “you’ll get off with an ’ole skin; but hif you’re foolish Hi’m afraid you’ll get ’urt.”
“Don’t waste time in talk, pal!” growled the other fellow. “We’ve got to move lively.”
“Here’s my purse,” said Zenas, holding it out. “Take it—take it and go!”
One of the men took it, but at the same time he said:
“We wants you to take a little walk with us, guvner. Now you ’adn’t better refuse, for we’ll ’ave to shoot you hif you do. Don’t hask hany questions, but move and move in a ’urry. Right out of the door, guvner. March!”
They grasped him by the arms and he was unceremoniously hustled through the broken door. He thought they were going to take him toward the front stairs, but they forced him falteringly along a dark and narrow passage, coming to another flight of stairs at the back of the house, which they descended.
“What are you going to do?” whispered the agitated old man.
“Shut hup!” growled the fellow with the pistol. “Hif you hopen your ’ead hagain Hi’ll ’ave to shoot you.”
In the darkness they passed through a room at the back of the house and came to a door that let them out into the open air. The stars were shining brightly through the leaf-denuded branches of the trees.
Just as they reached the open air there was a crashing and jangling of broken glass at the front of the house.
The starlight showed Zenas that a pair of horses had been attached to the closed carriage he had observed standing near the building. A man was standing at the head of the horses. Another man was perched on the driver’s seat, holding the reins.
The man who had hold of Gunn now rushed him without loss of time to the carriage, the door of which was standing open. Without regard for his feelings, they lifted him bodily and pitched him into the vehicle.
He bumped his head and uttered a cry of pain and fear.
One of the men sprang in and perched upon his body. The other man followed. A whip cracked like a pistol, and with a jerk the carriage started.
“Pull in his legs, pal!” exclaimed the man astride Zenas. “You can’t close the door unless you pull in his legs.”
“Blawst ’is blooming legs!” came from the other man. “Make ’im pull ’em hup.”
“Pull up your feet, old man!” commanded the one who was holding Zenas—“pull them up, if you don’t want to lose the top of your head!”
“I’m a dead man!” groaned the old professor. “This is the end of me!”
He pulled up his legs, and the carriage door was closed at last.
While this was taking place the carriage had whirled out from the forest inn into the highway, with the horses at a dead run. Persons rushing from the inn were startled and astonished, but they gave their attention to the search for Miguel Bunol, who had lately leaped through one of the windows of Robin Hood’s Tavern.
Zenas Gunn gave himself up for lost.
“Never thought I’d come to such an untimely end,” he moaned. “Why did we ever visit Sherwood Forest?”
Suddenly he became frantic and began to shout for help. Three times he did this before the man astride of him could do anything to prevent it.
“For ’Eaven’s sake smother ’im!” burst from the other man.
The fellow holding Gunn down got him by the throat and quickly checked the cries.
But those cries had been heard by both Dick Merriwell and Brad Buckhart.
The carriage bounced, and swayed, and rumbled over the forest road.
It was a terrible experience for Professor Gunn. The old fellow believed he had fallen into the hands of robbers, who were carrying him off with the idea of holding him for ransom.
Suddenly something happened. Some portion of the harness on one of the horses became unfastened, and the driver was compelled to pull up as soon as possible. He sprang down from the seat and made haste to fix the harness.
The horses had been excited and fretted by the manner in which they were whipped at the very outset. As the driver came alongside one of them the animal snorted, shied and sprang against its mate. The other horse gave a leap, and a second later both animals were running away.
The driver was jerked off his feet and dragged some distance. He clung to the reins, vainly endeavoring to hold the terrified creatures, but finally his hold relaxed and the animals raced on unguided, their fears seeming to increase as they ran.
At first the two ruffians inside did not realize what had happened, but soon they began to suspect that everything was not quite right.
“’E’s drivin’ ’orrid reckless, pal,” said the one with the cockney dialect. “’E’ll ’ave us hupset hif ’e don’t look hout.”
The carriage rocked and swayed, flinging its three occupants from side to side. At a sharp turn of the road it snapped round on two wheels, threatening to go over. Once the hub of a rear wheel struck the trunk of a tree and the carriage was flung violently to one side.
It was now the turn of Professor Gunn’s captors to be alarmed.
“What’s he trying to do, get us all killed?” palpitated the one who had been holding the old pedagogue, but who was now occupied in taking care of himself, which was no small matter.
“Hi believe the ’orses are running haway,” said the other.
“Can’t the thundering fool hold them?”
“’E don’t seem hable to.”
Then they began shouting to the driver, but as there was no driver on the seat, they received no reply.
Down a hill and over a stone bridge went the runaway team. The hoofs of the horses clattered on the frozen ground and the wheels made a rumbling roar like sullen thunder. The woods echoed with these sounds.
Professor Gunn managed to sit up and drag himself upon a cushioned seat in a corner of the carriage. The curtain at the glass window was up, and outside the old man saw the trees flying past.
With his heart in his mouth, Zenas waited for the termination of that wild night ride, yet dreaded what it might be.
The ruffians were frightened indeed now. One of them succeeded in opening the door and shouted again and again to the man he supposed was holding the reins. The carriage swept close to a tree, the trunk of which struck the door and slammed it shut, driving the man’s head through the glass, which was shattered, and cut him in a manner that brought blood copiously.
The man was dazed. He fell back on Zenas, who thrust him off.
“The ’orses hare running haway and there is no driver!” cried the cockney.
Suddenly Professor Gunn was seized with a feeling of revengeful joy. He knew the men were frightened, and a singular sort of courage came upon him.
“Serves you right, you villains!” he shrilly shouted. “I’m glad of it! I hope they run until they smash everything into a million pieces!”
“Ain’t there any way of stoppin’ them, pal?” questioned one of the ruffians.
“No, Hi don’t believe there is.”
“Let them run! let them run!” laughed Zenas wildly. “You brought it on yourselves! It’s good enough for you! Going to carry me off and hold me for ransom, were you? This is what you get! I hope you enjoy it!”
“Shut up, you old fool!”
“I won’t shut up! You can’t shut me up! Ha! ha! ha! Let them run! let them run!”
Suddenly, with a fearful shock, one of the forward wheels struck some obstruction. The carriage careened into the air and over it went, being flung from the road and fairly against a sturdy tree. The horses tore themselves free from the ruined vehicle and continued their mad flight along the forest road.
The wrecked carriage lay overturned by the roadside, and from its shattered ruins came no sound to tell whether its occupants were living or dead.
The landlord of the Robin Hood had prevented Brad Buckhart from taking a flying shot at Miguel Bunol as the reckless young desperado leaped through the window. Had the Texan fired, being a wonderfully good shot, it is probable he would have “winged” the Spaniard, at least.
At the destruction of the window the excited landlord threw up his hands in despair.
The whole house was in an uproar. One or two frightened men came and peered into the room where the encounter had taken place, while the cries of frightened women could be heard coming from other parts of the building.
“What do you mean by such actions in my place?” shouted the enraged and exasperated landlord, turning on Dick and Brad.
“We’re not responsible any,” retorted Buckhart. “Whatever made you get in my way and keep me from salting that ornery Spaniard good and plenty?”
“Out and after him!” cried Dick. “Don’t let him get away!”
“He’ll have to pay for that window!” yelled the landlord.
Then Dick led the rush from the inn. The door was thrown open, and they ran out beneath the stars.
They were just in time to see the closed carriage, with both horses at a dead run and the driver mercilessly plying the whip, whirl out of the yard, turn to the right and go clattering and rattling away on the frozen road.
A moment later a horseman shot past the opposite corner of the building and turned to the left.
As he passed the windows from which the light was shining the Texan caught a glimpse of him.
“There goes the galoot hot foot!” he roared, and flung up his hand to shoot.
It was Dick who now grasped his arm and prevented him from firing.
“Steady, Brad!” cried Merriwell. “You don’t want the blood of that dog on your hands!”
“I certain would like to know why!” retorted the excited Texan. “It would give me a heap of pleasure to bore him for keeps!”
“Let him go and——”
Dick stopped, for from the rattling carriage which had already vanished beneath the great tress that lined the road came wild cries for help, which were suddenly broken and checked.
“Great horn spoon!” palpitated the Texan. “Did hear that, pard?”
“I did, and it certainly sounded like the voice of Professor Gunn!”
“Just what I thought. You don’t opine——”
But already Dick was rushing back into the inn, and Brad quickly followed him. Up the stairs they leaped, assailed by a new feeling of fear.
The broken door of the professor’s room hung on a single hinge, just as the Texan had left it. The light of the glowing fire and of a single candle showed them the comfortable interior of that room, but they saw nothing of Zenas Gunn.
“Professor——Professor Gunn!” called Dick.
“Where are you? Answer me—answer at once!”
But there was no answer.
“Search, Brad!” urged Dick. “He may have been alarmed by the uproar and concealed himself. Look on the bed behind those curtains! Look under the bed! Look everywhere!”
Even as he was urging his friend to do this Dick flung open the door of a wardrobe and looked within. Then he caught up the candle and hastened into the adjoining room, looking in every nook and corner, meanwhile continuing to call to Gunn.
A few moments later the two boys met in the first room and stood face to face, staring into each other’s eyes.
“Where is he, partner?”
“Gone!” said Dick. “Brad, that was the game!”
“I don’t just rightly see how——”
“First Bunol was to be given a chance at me. If he failed, the professor was to be captured and carried off. He was in that closed carriage!”
“Sure as shooting!”
“Come!”
The flushed, wild-eyed, excited landlord appeared in the door and attempted to check them, demanding why they had turned his house into a Bedlam.
Dick swept him aside.
“No time to explain now!” he declared. “We’ll explain to you later.”
The boys rushed downstairs once more, out of the inn and round to the stable. A hostler demanded to know what had happened.
“Hi’d like to ’ave you tell me what it’s hall habout!” he said. “Why did the gentlemen ’ave their ’osses taken hout and then ’ave them ’itched in hagain in such an hawful ’urry?”
They seized him and demanded to know where their own horses were. Their manner frightened him.
“Those men were ruffians, and they must be caught,” said Dick. “Help us get our horses to pursue them. If you don’t you may be taken as the accomplice of the scoundrels. It’s worth a pound note to you, my man, if you get our horses out instantly and provide us with bridles for them.”
This inducement led the hostler to move quickly. He found the bridles and brought out the horses. The boys lost not a second in helping bridle the animals. At the same moment, it seemed, both flung themselves astride the beasts. A cowboy yell broke from the lips of the Texan—a yell that sent his mount bounding forward with surprise and fear. Dick smote his horse with his open hand, which fell with a pistol-like crack on the animal’s rump.
“Hold on!” shouted the hostler. “Where is that pound note you said I should ’ave?”
He ran after them, but neither of the boys paused a moment to respond, and quickly they vanished down the dark road that turned away beneath the great trees to the right. Back to his ears came the clatter of hoofs on the roadbed, receding and growing fainter in the distance.
Both boys were ready for any emergency as they galloped mile after mile along that road.
Twice they passed branching roads, but chose to stick by the principal highway, although it was impossible to say that they were following the right course by doing so.
“It’s more than even, pard,” said the Texan, “that the onery varmints turned off on one of those other roads. We’re going her a whole lot on pure luck.”
“We have to,” said Dick.
Down a hill and over a bridge they flew. By this time the horses were breathing heavily and beginning to perspire. Their breath whistled through their nostrils and they would have slackened the pace had they been permitted.
On and on until at last, descending yet another hill, they came upon the wrecked carriage lying in a splintered heap by the roadside.
They flung themselves from their nearly exhausted horses, the creatures willingly stopping and standing with hanging heads and heaving flanks.
“Whatever happened here, pard?” cried Brad.
“Smash up,” answered Dick. “Must have been a runaway and a bad one, too.”
Amid the ruins of the carriage they found a man lying ominously still.
“Is it the professor?” whispered Buckhart, fearfully.
Together they dragged away some of the debris, and then Dick struck a match. The mask that had hidden the face of the man was covered with blood and partly torn away. His face was badly cut.
“Luke Durbin!” shouted the boy from Texas, as Merriwell fully removed the bloody mask and held the match with the reflected light flung from the hollow of his hands.
“That’s who it is,” said Dick.
“And I opine he’s cashed in. This was the end of the racket for him.”
Dick struck another match.
“See!” he exclaimed, as the light of this second match fell on Durbin’s mutilated face. “He’s not dead!”
The eyelids of the man fluttered and his eyes opened. A groan came from his lips.
“It’s some rough,” said the Texan; “but you’ve got only yourself to blame for being here.”
The man’s bloody lips moved and he sought to speak, but the husky sounds he uttered could not be understood.
“Durbin,” said Dick, “your pals have left you here to die. Did you aid them in capturing and carrying off Zenas Gunn?”
Another painful effort to speak resulted in nothing that could be understood.
“Tell me the truth,” urged Dick. “You can see how they deserted you. Why should you shield them? Did you carry off the old professor? Can’t you answer? If you would say yes, close your eyes and open them again.”
Slowly the wretch closed and opened his eyes.
“Where is he? Where have they taken him?”
It was impossible for Durbin to answer in words.
The boys lifted him and lay him on the cold ground by the roadside.
“I judge he’s mighty near gone, partner,” whispered Brad. “It’s bad we have to lose time like this. We ought to be doing something for the professor.”
“We can’t leave this man to die here alone like a dog, no matter how bad he has been.”
“He sure has got what was coming to him.”
“But he’s a human being. Think of leaving any human creature to die here in such a manner!”
“Think of Professor Gunn!”
“If we find out without delay what has happened to the professor and where he has been taken, we must learn it through this man. In case he knows—which is pretty certain—he may tell everything if he finds he is going to die.”
“That’s correct, Dick. You’re always the long-headed one. But if he can’t talk, how are we going to learn anything from him?”
“If we had a stimulant or restorative of some sort——”
“Liquor?”
“Yes; as a medicine liquor is all right when properly used. As a beverage it is poisonous.”
Although Dick fully believed in temperance, he was not a crank, and he knew that liquor had its good uses, although almost invariably it was put to a bad use.
“But we haven’t a drop of the stuff. What can we do?”
“Is there no way for us to get him back to the Robin Hood?”
“How’ll we make the riffle, partner?”
Dick meditated a moment. As he did so, both lads heard in the distance the sound of hoofbeats and the rumble of wheels, telling them that a carriage was approaching at a rapid pace.
“Somebody else driving a heap hard, Dick,” said the Texan. “Perhaps more trouble is coming.”
“We’ll have to be ready for anything. If it’s some one we do not know, we’ll appeal to him to take this man in and carry him back to the inn.”
They waited, Buckhart producing his pistol, while Dick led the horses aside beneath a tree.
Back along the road a short distance there was an opening among the trees, and soon the carriage, drawn by a single horse, came rumbling through this star-lighted spot.
Dick joined Brad.
“We’ll have to stop it, even if we scare the driver out of his wits,” he said.
The boys stepped into the road and called to the driver. Immediately a man rose up in the carriage and cried:
“Who are you? Have you seen anything of two boys on horses, riding as if pursued by Old Nick himself?”
“We’re the boys, I fancy,” confessed Dick. “You’re Mr. Swinton, of Robin Hood’s Tavern.”
It was the landlord, and he jumped out in a hurry when he found he had overtaken Dick and Brad.
“Look here, you chaps,” he cried, “don’t you think you can upset my house, smash windows and doors and run away without paying the damages! I’m an honest man, and what’s happened to-night at my place may ruin me. I demand damages, and you’ll have to pay ’em.”
“All right,” said Dick quietly. “Although we’re not responsible for the things that have happened, we’ll pay a reasonable damage charge if you promptly take into your carriage and carry to the inn a man who has been seriously injured here and may be dying. I’ll pay you for your trouble with him, too.”
Although still suspicious and doubtful, the landlord was somewhat mollified.
“How did it happen?” he asked, as he stooped and peered down at the injured man.
“There’s the carriage,” explained Brad, “smashed a whole lot. I opine they had a runaway. Don’t waste time in asking other questions. Time is powerful precious to-night, and every minute counts.”
The injured wretch groaned as they raised him and placed him in the carriage, which the driver had already turned about. The driver proved to be the hostler, who reminded Dick that he had not received the pound note promised him.
“I’ll pay you as soon as we get back to the tavern,” was the promise. “Had no time to do it before.”
Before starting on the return, Dick made another examination of the injured man to see if his wounds were so serious that he might bleed to death on the way, but found that the cold air had caused the blood to congeal, and that there was no danger from the source feared.
Mounted and riding close behind the carriage, the boys turned their faces toward the inn, their hearts heavy in their bosoms, for the uncertainty of the fate that had befallen Professor Gunn oppressed them.
“For all of the accident and the smash-up,” said Dick, “Bunol’s game to carry off the professor has succeeded.”
“That’s right,” agreed Brad. “But why should he do anything like that? I confess it puzzles me up a plenty.”
“Recall his little trick at Lochleven.”
“That was some different. By getting hold of Dunbar Budthorne he hoped to force Nadia into a marriage with him. He reckoned that, to save her brother, she might hitch with him.”
“You don’t think he counts on murdering Zenas Gunn, do you, partner?”
“No; had he intended to murder the professor he would not have gone to so much trouble to capture him and run him off. The men who did that could have finished the old man in his room at the tavern while we were having our little racket with Bunol below. Bunol knows the strength of the law and fears it. He’s none too good or too timid to commit a cold-blooded murder, but he fears the consequences of such an act. To-night he told me he has dogged us everywhere since we left Kinross. We did succeed in fooling him by helping Budthorne and his sister to get away secretly. Having lost track of Nadia, Bunol has followed us, believing we would join the Budthornes sooner or later.
“Of late he has been growing impatient. Finding we contemplated visiting Newstead Abbey and the haunts of Robin Hood, he decided to strike a blow here in this forest. Some of his spies must have learned from our conversation and inquiries that we meant to remain overnight at Robin Hood’s Inn. Having learned that much Bunol acted swiftly. Durbin was with him, and probably Marsh. He must have secured the aid of ruffians who were familiar with this part of the country. He had an idea that, could he meet me face to face and quite alone, he might exercise his newly discovered hypnotic powers on me, and this he tried to do to-night. But I know something about hypnotism myself, and I was able to combat him and defeat him on his chosen ground.
“He had prepared for defeat, having instructed his ruffianly tools to capture and carry off Professor Gunn, whom he knew to be timid, old, and incapable of making serious resistance. Through threats of what he may do to the professor he hopes to bring me to my knees. It is his object to conquer us now, Brad, for he is sure he can accomplish his designs on the Budthornes, once he can place us beyond interfering and baffling him. Without doubt he will threaten and frighten Zenas into telling him where to find Nadia Budthorne. I do not fear that he will seriously injure the old professor, unless Zenas was injured in the runaway and smash-up.”
“But Nadia!” cried Brad. “If he forces the professor to tell where Nadia may be found——”
“We’ll lose no time in sending a warning message to the Budthornes. Then it will be a race between us and Miguel Bunol out of England, across the Channel and down into sunny Italy. But Bunol will seek to baffle and delay us.”
“How?”
“By keeping Zenas Gunn a prisoner somewhere, knowing we’ll not leave England until we have found and freed him.”
“Great tarantulas! I reckon you’re right, partner! You’re a whole lot long-headed, and you have tumbled to his game. Whatever can we do?”
“We must beat him at that game.”
“Elucidate how.”
“This runaway and smash-up was something not reckoned on by Bunol.”
“Certain not.”
“Durbin was left for dead.”
“No doubt of it.”
“If Durbin lives long enough to talk, we may induce him to tell us where Zenas Gunn is to be kept a prisoner.”
“I sure hope so.”
“Then it will be our business to waste no time in finding the professor and setting him free. After that the race for Italy will begin.”
Buckhart was greatly stirred up over the prospect.
“If we permit that Spaniard to get ahead of us, pard, I’ll certain feel like committing suicide some!” he cried. “You made a big mistake when you kept me from taking a crack at him with my gun as he went whooping away from the Robin Hood. If I had bored him——”
“We should have been arrested and compelled to stand trial. It is true we might have been acquitted; but shooting a human being, even though it may be a dastardly dog like Bunol, is mighty bad business, and I don’t believe you wish, any more than I do, to stain your hands with human blood.”
“I punctured Rob MacLane at Lochleven.”
“But it was only a flesh wound in the shoulder, and the authorities, who seemed relieved and pleased over the death of the Strathern outlaw, decided that the cause of his death was not the bullet wound, but came from a broken neck received when he fell from Lochleven Castle.”
“All the same,” muttered the Texan, in a low tone, “I don’t opine he’d taken that fall if I hadn’t fired at him. I saw he was going to murder Aaron by flinging him over, and I didn’t falter any at all in shooting. My conscience hasn’t troubled me much.”
“But with Bunol mounted on a horse and trying to escape from us, the aspect of the case would have seemed different. At least, that is the way I looked at it.”
“I suppose you’re right, partner, for you’re right as a rule ten times out of ten; but I’m powerful afraid Bunol will get a start on us now.”
“We’ll do our best to baffle him at his game,” said Dick. “This accident that befell Luke Durbin may enable us to defeat the Spaniard.”
“At the same time, it’s mighty sure to put Durbin out of the running, even if he doesn’t die, for I judge he’s badly busted up, and he won’t be so frisky and troublesome in future.”
“But for Bunol, Durbin never would have been a hard man to check. Bunol is reckless to the point of madness. He has resolved to possess Nadia Budthorne and her money——”
“But by the stars above us I swear he never shall!” cried the Texan fiercely.
When they reached Robin Hood’s Tavern once more, the boys, assisted by Swinton, lifted the injured man, who was still alive, and carried him inside, where he was placed on a bed.
“How far is it to the nearest doctor?” asked Dick. “This man is badly injured, and he must have medical treatment, if he does not die before a doctor can be brought.”
“It’s good ten miles,” said the landlord.
“Send a man for a physician without delay,” directed Dick. “I will pay all expenses.”
“It’s easy enough for you to say so,” returned the doubting keeper of the inn; “but I have not yet seen the color of your money, and my doors and windows have been smashed, the people in the house, including my wife, nearly frightened to death, and the reputation of the place ruined. What have I done that all this misfortune should be heaped upon me?”
“Would you see this man die for want of medical attention?”
“How do I know what will follow before morning? There may be further trouble here. Besides myself I have but two men about the place, and I must keep them to protect the ladies.”
“You will send a man for a doctor,” said Dick, sternly. “Here, I have money to pay. Tell me what your bill is for the broken door and window, and it will be settled—unless you make it exorbitant. Tell me how much it will cost to dispatch a man on a horse for the doctor, and I will pay that, too.”
At sight of the boy’s money the landlord immediately became quite humble and obliging. He started to ramble in his statement concerning the damage done, saying no money could pay him for the injury to the good name of the house; but Merriwell cut him short, asserting he would settle that matter after he had seen the man start to bring a physician.
Within a short time the hostler was dispatched on a good horse, with instructions not to return under any condition without the needed physician.
“I feel better about that now,” confessed Dick. “I wouldn’t see my worst enemy in the condition of Durbin without doing what I could for him.”
The injuries the man had received about the face were washed and dressed by Dick himself, while Durbin was given a little whisky, which seemed to revive him, although it was apparent to all that he might die within the hour.
Having done whatever he could to make the man comfortable, Merriwell sat down beside the bed and talked to him. At first it seemed that Durbin still remained unable to speak, but his wandering eyes gazed at Dick pathetically, as if he could not quite understand the boy.
“Durbin,” said Dick, “I’m sorry for you; but you must know that you brought this upon yourself, and you cannot blame any one else.”
The man moved his head the least bit from side to side.
“Your bones do not seem to be broken,” the boy went on; “but your condition indicates that you are seriously—probably fatally—injured. You may not live an hour; you may die within ten minutes. You had a hand in carrying off Zenas Gunn. It was Bunol’s plot, but it is likely you know that rascal’s plans. The least you can do now is to tell me where the professor has been taken. For the sake of your own conscience, at least, you should tell.”
The man was silent.
“You were deserted by your pals and left to die alone by the roadside. I have taken trouble to have you brought here, and I’ve sent for a doctor. In return for this will you not tell me the one thing I want to know? Where has Bunol taken Zenas Gunn?”
The injured man’s lips parted, an expression of great effort and distress came into his eyes, but the only sounds he uttered were a few painful gasps.
“Can’t you speak?” asked Dick.
Again that faint rocking motion of the head from side to side.
“I don’t opine he’ll ever speak again, pard,” whispered Buckhart, in Dick’s ear. “He’s done for, and we’re wasting time in trying to get anything out of him.”
“It’s folly to attempt to search the country blindly to-night,” said Dick. “Unless Durbin can give us a clue, we have nothing to work on.”
Brad looked desperate.
“All right,” he muttered. “You know best, partner. I opine I’d better trust the whole thing to you.”
“Give me that whisky, Mr. Swinton,” requested Dick.
The liquor had been weakened with water in a cup, and the boy again held this out to Durbin’s lips. A little of the stuff passed into the man’s mouth, and he swallowed it with great difficulty.
“Now,” once more urged Dick, “try to tell me where they have taken Professor Gunn.”
The man’s lips moved again. Dick bent low over him, holding his ear down to listen, but he could catch no word, and the fear that Durbin would die without speaking grew upon him.
Looking straight into the pathetic eyes of the injured man, Dick said, in a tone of confidence and command:
“I will give you the power to speak. You shall speak! You can speak! Tell me at once where they have taken the professor.”
For a moment there was absolute silence in the room. Both Buckhart and Swinton watched, breathless and awed, feeling that in some singular manner the boy was transmitting some strength of his own to the man on the bed. They felt as if something like a miracle was about to take place.
Finally Durbin’s lips parted again, and, in a low yet perfectly distinct tone, he muttered three words:
“The—haunted—mill!”