There are two large, heavily wooded islands in Lake Placid. Into a little cove of the northern island Red Ben ran his canoe. His companion, still wearing the wolf mask, stepped out and lifted the helpless girl, bearing her along a path that led to a little opening where the moonlight fell brightly. He placed her on the ground and stood gazing down at her, his arms folded. He had removed the stifling blanket from her head and shoulders.
"By my soul she is beautiful!" he murmured, and the words were spoken in Spanish. His voice was soft and musical, quite unlike the growling hoarseness of the wolf with whom Inza had conversed at the pavilion.
A silent shadow slipped into the opening and stood near. It was the Indian.
"Much dangerous business," he said. "You tell Ben you want to square old score with Merriwell man. Tell me be ready to take you quick away in canoe. No tell me you carry off gal."
"I did not know she would be there," explained the wolf. "When I found her there my plans I changed. It can make no difference with you. You have beenpaid, but I will pay you doubly if you stick by me to the end. You know every mile of these mountains and forests. You can help me get away, and by it you shall lose nothing."
The Indian shook his head.
"Much bad! much bad!" he declared. "What you do with gal?"
"I shall keep her."
"How you do it. Mebbe she no want to stay. She have many friend. They hunt you same like a real wolf."
"Then they shall find that the wolf has teeth. I expect her gringo lover will hunt. Ha! ha! ha! It is the joy of my soul to wring his heart and make it bleed! I hate him! Between him and me it is a struggle to the death, and in my body runs the blood of old Guerrero, who feared no peril and never paused to count the cost when he struck at a foe. Could I leave him dead, even as he thought me dead, my path would be clear. The prize is worth the peril, for it is a double prize, the fairest señorita and a great fortune. Listen, Ben: if by me you stay fast and I slay my enemy, five hundred dollars shall be yours. Think of that. Five hundred is as much as you can obtain as guide in a season."
"But the white man's law," said the Indian. "I know him. Once I steal a hoss. White man officer arrest me, take me to court, where white man judgesay go to jail one year. I go. No want some more like that. Once I 'most kill man down at Long Lake. White man officer hunt me long time. I remember jail. No want some more. I hide. Send word no let um officer take me alive. Bimeby they no hunt me some more. 'Nother time I git drunk, burn house. Have to hide again long, long while till snow come, an' nobody look for me some more. If I help you do some bad things now, mebbe git officer after me 'gain."
"You will not be to blame for anything I do, and the money will pay you so you can afford to hide until the trouble is past. My friends will join us here, as we planned. After that we can get away into the woods. With you to guide, we can baffle all pursuit. But I pray the señorita's gringo lover seeks to follow, so that we may meet. I'll leave him for the wild beasts, with my knife in his heart!"
"But gal she hate you then."
"I'll teach her to love me. I have sworn she shall be mine, and the oath of a Del Norte is never broken. Leave everything to me. Go back and watch for our friends. They will come as soon as they can get away and reach us without being seen."
Silently the redskin turned away and disappeared into the path.
Then the wolf once more turned to the girl. He was somewhat startled to discover her eyes were wide open and fastened upon him. Quickly he bent overher, speaking softly and with an effort to reassure her.
"Fear not, señorita; you are not injured, and in my hands you are safe, for I will guard you with my life. A thousand pardons I ask if I have caused your heart to beat with alarm."
With an effort she rose on one hand, holding up the other as if to ward him off.
"Don't touch me, you monster!" she gasped. "I shall scream!"
"Spare yourself the effort, fair one," he said, "for though you were to shriek with all your strength no one could hear you. You were unconscious, and while thus I brought you here."'
"Where am I?"
"Many miles from the spot where I found you, señorita."
"That voice!" she whispered, shrinking in terror. "It cannot be that you are—— I am dreaming!"
"It is no dream, sweet one. Could you see into my heart you would fear me no longer. Trust me and all will be well."
"Trust you! Trust a monster who has done what you have done! I fear you as I would fear a venomous reptile!"
"Ah! how little you understand, señorita!"
He knelt on one knee before her, holding out his open hands.
"If you would only believe in me and trust me, my beautiful gringo flower! You will learn in time to do so, for I shall teach you. Some day you shall bless your guardian angel that to-night I found you and snatched you from your boastful lover."
To his surprise, she leaned toward him, as if to permit him to clasp her in his arms. A moment later, with a swift movement, she caught at the wolf mask and tore it from his head.
"Porfias del Norte!" she cried, falling back and staring at him as he knelt with the moonlight shining on his face and his bandaged head.
He smiled in that remarkable manner that ever made his face seem handsome to a wonderful degree.
"Yes, señorita," he murmured, with that strange sweetness in his voice, "I am Porfias del Norte."
"Not dead!"
"Far from it, fair one."
"But Frank said——"
"He thought he had left me dead in the old hut where I was shot down by a treacherous dog who shall pay the penalty with his life. The bullet struck me here, but Heaven changed its course and spared my life. My time had not come, Señorita Inza."
"Heaven had no hand in it!" cried the girl. "Some evil spirit protected you!"
"Some time you will think differently."
"Never! You monster, how dared you do what you have done to-night?"
"Dare!" he laughed. "Have you yet to learn that a Del Norte dares anything? Have you yet to learn a Del Norte will risk anything to secure the woman he loves?"
She fought against the great terror that threatened to overcome her and rob her of consciousness once more.
"You must be deranged!" she said. "You cannot realize what your act will bring about. It is plain you do not yet know Frank Merriwell. If you did you would not fancy you could do this thing and escape the punishment he will surely bring upon you. Why, he will find you and make you suffer, even though he had to employ a hundred men and rake over every inch of these mountains. Once arouse him, as he must now be aroused, and he will follow like a Nemesis on your trail. There is but one escape for you."
"Only one?" questioned the man, with a touch of mockery in his voice.
"Only one."
"And that is—tell me what, señorita?"
"You must permit me to return to him without delay. You must see that I return unharmed. If you do that, I give you my promise to keep him still long enough for you to get far away. If you are wise you will make all haste back to your own country."
Del Norte laughed softly.
"You have yet much to learn of me. In this game I hold the winning cards. In my employ is an Indian who knows where in these mountains we may hide so securely that a thousand men cannot find us. In one of these hiding places I shall keep you secure. If your gringo lover comes, I'll meet him. I'll fight him to the death. One of us will conquer, and no man ever triumphed over one in whose blood was the spirit of old Guerrero. If we meet in fair battle and I am his master, then you will realize how much superior I am to the boasting Americano you thought you cared for. In time you will learn to love me a thousand times more deeply than you ever loved him."
"It's plain you reckon all women on the standard of such women as you have known. Only women of savage races transfer their affection from dead lovers to their slayers. But you do not yet comprehend the fearful task before you. Your conceit is colossal. In single combat with Frank Merriwell you would not have one chance in a thousand."
He could not help feeling the scorn and contempt in her face and words, but still he laughed.
"Time will show you your mistake, señorita; words cannot. Do not fear me. I have sworn that you shall love me, and to win your love I'll be as tender and considerate as possible."
"Tender and considerate!" panted the tremblinggirl. "After this night I shall fear and loathe you a thousand times more than ever before. Keep away! Don't touch me!"
"It saddens me to see that you fear me so," he sighed, rising to his feet and standing with folded arms. "I have ventured everything on this move, and I shall carry it through. You American women love wealth and power. Señorita, all the vast wealth that is coming to me will I place at your feet. Yours shall be all the power it can command. As my wife you shall some day be admired and envied by all women."
"Now I know you are deranged!" she declared, also rising. "Any man in his right mind could not think to win the love of a woman after such a fashion. Porfias del Norte, that wound has made you a madman!"
"It is love that has made me mad, my Northern flower. Since parting from you on the crown of Mount Battie, up in Maine, I have thought of you, and dreamed of you, until you took possession of my whole being. I felt that I must have you for my own to keep always until death came between us. I have felt that to have you thus I would face a thousand deadly perils. To-night I saw you at the dance. Even though your face was hidden, my heart gave a leap the moment my eyes rested on you. By your grace I recognized you, yet I was not certain until I found an opportunity to speak with you. I watched my opening and grasped it the moment Merriwell left you. Eventhough I felt that you might discover my identity and betray me, I ventured to speak with you."
"I believed you dead; otherwise I should have recognized you, even though you disguised your voice."
"No doubt, señorita. I feared then that you might tell him, and he would make a move that should baffle me. I spoke to my comrades. Fortune aided me in the wild plan I quickly formed. He saw them and engaged in altercation with them, which gave me the opening I sought. You were again left alone, and in a moment I acted. I carried you away, but in the struggle your garment of white was torn from you, and it lies in the canoe that brought us to this spot. I have no doubt that my comrades will join me soon, and then we shall move again. By daybreak we will be safely hidden in one of the many safe places known to the Indian who is with me."
Inza was desperate. She did not know they were on an island, and now her terror led her, having somewhat recovered her strength, to wheel suddenly and flee as fast as her feet would carry her. By chance she struck into the path and came quickly to the shore where lay the canoe, with Red Ben standing near it.
"Help!" she cried, appealing to him. "Save me! You shall be paid—anything, anything you ask!"
In her excitement she clutched his arm. He turned toward her a grim, immovable face. Not a word did he speak in reply.
Del Norte issued from the path and deliberately approached.
"It is useless, señorita," he declared. "Flee whither you will, there is no escape. You are on an island. This is my Indian comrade."
"Others come," said Red Ben.
"Where?" asked the Mexican anxiously.
"There."
The redskin lifted his arm and pointed away over the surface of the silent lake.
"My friends!" gasped the girl. "They are coming to rescue me."
In the distance a black spot lay on the water. The faint clanking of oars was heard.
Del Norte whistled a sharp signal.
In return there was a similar answer.
"Señorita," he laughed, "you are wrong; those who come are my friends."
With the sun slipping down toward the western peaks, another day was passing.
Hidden on the side of a wooded mountain, yet having a position that commanded a wide expanse of country, with a view of the lower hills and valleys, Red Ben lay prone on his stomach. At his side lay a loaded rifle.
In front of the Indian was a precipice, over which he peered at intervals, his keen eyes searching the valley below.
Finally he stirred quickly, sat up and turned with the rifle in his hands.
A man was approaching, but the moment this man appeared plainly in view Red Ben put down the rifle.
Del Norte came hurriedly forward.
"Have you seen anything of pursuers?" he anxiously questioned.
The redskin nodded.
"They near," he answered.
"You have seen them?"
"Yes."
"Where?"
"Down there," with a motion of one brown hand toward the valley beneath them.
"When?"
"Hour ago."
"How many?"
"Five."
"Whither did they go?"
"So," with another gesture up the valley.
"Then they are not on the trail. Your trick in covering our tracks in case they found and followed the trail was successful. Are you sure they were pursuers? Perhaps they were hunters looking for deer."
"No," asserted the Indian decidedly. "Ben he know. Make no mistake. They hunt for lost gal."
"They'll never find her. In that cave she is as safe as if buried a thousand feet underground. Even if they passed within ten feet of the entrance they could not discover it. Was Merriwell with them?"
Ben shook his head.
"No can tell. Ben not know him. Two young men; others older."
From a pocket the Mexican drew a pistol, which he examined, making sure it was in perfect working order. His usually handsome face wore a look that transformed it, while there was a deadly glitter in his black eyes.
"Listen, Ben," he said; "I will describe the hated gringo to you. If he is near, I wish to find the opportunity to meet him again face to face. Twice he has nearly destroyed me, but my escapes have told me my life is charmed, and I know it is next his turn. When again we meet I'll leave him food for the wolves, with this in his heart!"
He suddenly produced and flourished a keen dagger. His description of Frank was accurate and flattering, for he confessed that the young American was handsome and manly in appearance, with a resolute face and a fearless eye. He declared that the redskin could not mistake Merriwell, as the very appearance of the latter proclaimed him a leader among his companions.
"Of course," he added, "I wish no chance to face him in company with many of his friends, but I pray the Virgin he may give me the opportunity alone."
"Not much chance," grunted Red Ben. "How gal?"
"She is wonderful in her courage and defiance. Never did I see her equal, and it is this spirit that makes me love her all the more. How long do you think we'll have to hide here in the cave, Ben?"
"Can't stay long. Little grub."
"If necessary you could bring food at night."
"Mebbe so. Much dangerous to stay long. First chance we best go quick. Your friend they watch her?"
"Yes, they are guarding her now."
"She run quick she git chance."
"She'll have no chance."
The redskin surveyed Del Norte curiously.
"You want marry gal?" he asked.
"I have sworn to make her my wife."
"No good! She no do it. You waste time. You fix um your enemy, better leave her, git out fast. Canada up there. You reach Canada, have chance to git 'way."
"Even with the gringo dead, my triumph would not be complete if she escaped me. I will take her to Mexico."
"Where Mexico?" asked the Indian. "No hear of it any before."
"It is far from here, my own fair land!"
"Gal make heap trouble 'fore you git um there. Ben him know. Him see in her eye how she hate you. Gals no good. Alwus make bad trouble for anybody. Men big fools over gals. Ben know. Once him git foolish over 'nother man's squaw. Heap fight over her. Prit' near git um head shot off. Let squaws 'lone sence that."
"You cannot understand," declared Del Norte, with a gesture. "This thing I have set myself to do I will do, and all the powers of earth shall not thwart me."
Ben grunted and shrugged his shoulders.
"When white man gits that way him go it lickety split till him finish up done for. All right. Ben hegot nothin' to say. No waste talk. You pay him, he do all he can for you."
"That's all I ask and all I want. Keep your eyes open. If the hunters come near, give me warning. If Merriwell strays alone, let me know and I will hasten to meet him."
A few moments later the redskin was again left as a sentinel on the mountain side, while Del Norte retraced his steps to the cave where he had sought concealment with his fair captive.
The sun was touching the tip of a rocky western peak. For a long time Red Ben had been watching a solitary man who was making his way slowly and cautiously up the mountain. The eyes of the Indian glittered and his fingers closed firmly on his rifle, which was ready for use.
Nearer and nearer came the unsuspecting man. At times he disappeared from view amid the timber, only to reappear at some point anticipated by the watcher.
Finally he drew near the spot where the Indian lay. Slowly Red Ben pushed forward his rifle, bringing the butt against his shoulder. The muzzle covered the heart of the unsuspecting man, who also carried a rifle.
At that moment the man dropped like a flash and rolled over twice until he lay behind a sheltering bowlder.
Red Ben was astonished, for he realized that the other had scented danger, yet how this had happened was more than the redskin could comprehend.
"Howld on there, ye spalpane!" cried a voice. "Don't be afther shootin' yer bist friend. Oi know ye're there, fer Oi saw th' bushes wiggle a wee bit. If it's Red Ben ye are, ye ought to know Pat O'Toole, so ye had."
The astonishment of the Indian increased, but for some moments he neither spoke nor made a sound.
"Nivver a bit av good will it do to kape so shtill," declared he of the rich Irish brogue. "Oi know ye're there. It's not often Pat O'Toole makes a mishtake."
The Indian sat up, exposing the upper part of his body.
"Come," he invited. "Ben no shoot."
O'Toole rose from his place of concealment, grinning triumphantly.
"Begorra, Oi think Oi saved mesilf a foine hole in me shkin," he chuckled, as he advanced. "Whin Misther Browning towld me about th' Injun in th' boat wid the wolf, sez Oi to mesilf, sez Oi, 'Oi'll bet me loife Oi know th' mon, an' it's Red Ben.' Misther Merriwell wur sure th' spalpane he's afther must be somewhere here, an' it's the counthry all over they are searchin'. Oi took it on mesilf to invistigate this soide av th' mountain, but Oi had me oies open all th' toime. Something towld me ye'd be on th' watch if ye wurwith them; an' it's sudint Oi dhropped whin Oi saw th' bushes move."
"How," said Red Ben, accepting O'Toole's extended hand.
"Howdy yersilf. Long toime no see, eh?"
"What you do here?"
"Pwhat th' divvil are you doin', Ben? It's a bad shcrape ye're afther gettin' yersilf in through this girrul business. Arter Oi saved ye from bein' shot full av lead fer foolin' round Bill Curran's woife Oi thought ye'd know betther than to iver monkey wid a female again."
"Ben he no monkey. White man him gal crazy."
"But ye're afther hilpin' him, ye lunatick, an' it's a schrape ye'll foind yersilf in. Oi've known ye tin year now. We've worruked togither guidin' more than wance, and nivver a bit av a quarrel did we have. Oi'd not tell ye a loie, an' Oi want ye to know thot Frank Merriwell will rake these mountains down an' lay them level av he don't foind thot girrul. It's a big oath he has taken to make anny wan shmart thot has caused her wan minute av distress."
"How you know so much 'bout him?" asked Red Ben, a heavy frown on his face.
"It's a long shtory, an' Oi'll not tell ye the whole av it. Oi wur paid to hilp do him a bad turn, an' Oi troied to bate th' head off him. It's a foine lickin' Oi got. Afther thot he saved me loife whin a madbuck had me down an' wur about cuttin' me to pieces wid his hoofs. Sure Oi found him a foine young gintleman, an' it's his friend Oi became. Wid me own hand Oi put a bullet through the head av thot shnale Porrfeeus dil Noort; an' now it's some av Dil Noort's gang that's seekin' to git square by carryin' off Merriwell's girrul. As yer friend, Ben, Oi ax ye to give th' spalpanes th' double-cross an' hilp Frank Merriwell git back th' girrul. Av ye do thot Oi promise ye Oi'll see that nivver a bit av throuble do ye get into. Av ye refuse it's more than wan year ye'll be afther spindin' in jail fer your foolishness."
The Indian had listened with the frown growing deeper.
"Mebbe you go back on me?" he questioned. "Mebbe you tell um Merriwell Red Ben help carry off gal?"
"Oi didn't have to tell him. His bist friend saw ye in your canoe afther ye shtarted wid th' girrul. Ye're in fer it, Ben, me bhoy, onliss ye turrun roight-about-face an' do pwhat ye can fer th' girrul an' to have the indacint rascals pwhat shtole her poonished."
"Sit down," invited the redskin, motioning toward the ground at his side. "We talk it over."
O'Toole accepted the invitation and squatted on the ground.
"Ben he must think," said the Indian. "He must have time to make up him mind."
"Take yer toime, me bhoy," nodded O'Toole, in his pleasantest manner; "but don't yez fergit Oi'm yer friend, an' it's fer your good Oi'm advisin' ye. Th' divvils pwhat shtole th' girrul can't git away, fer Merriwell has tilegraphed it all over this parrut av th' counthry, an' it's big rewards he has offered fer th' apprehinsion av th' rascals. Whin th' shtorm comes, Ben, ye want to git out from under. There'll be a terrible crash, moind pwhat Oi say."
"Ben him git big money for what him do."
"It's litthle good money will do yez wid yer neck shtretched, an' th' bhoys are carryin' ropes fer th' gints pwhat run off wid th' girrul. Oi'd not fool yez fer th' worruld," O'Toole continued, in his most convincing manner. "Says Oi to mesilf whin Oi made up me moind ye wur wid the gints pwhat done ut, said Oi, 'Pat, me bhoy, Ben is yer friend, an' ye are his friend, an' it's up to ye to go along an' foind him an' give him a tip to git under cover before it rains.' Oi'm here. It's roight foine luck Oi found yez. A foine broth av a bhoy is Frank Merriwell, an' whin he knows ye hilped save th' girrul, Oi'll shtake me loife he pays ye well fer it."
The Irishman was doing his level best to win the Indian over, and his words were not without effect. After a while Red Ben said:
"You go to um Merriwell, ask how much he give Ben to bring gal. Ask if him swear Ben no git hurt. Ask if him dare meet Ben an' swear he no git hurt to bring gal. Come soon, tell what him say."
"It's darruk it will be, fer th' sun is down now."
"Ben stay here. Men who steal gal leave him to watch. He stay. You know owl hoot. When you come back make owl hoot so Ben no think it somebody else an' shoot um. Must know what Merriwell him say. Must have him promise."
Evidently the Indian was determined to drive the best bargain possible, and at the same time he was resolved to take every precaution to insure his own safety in case he betrayed Inza's captors.
O'Toole knew the redskin well enough to comprehend quickly that further argument and pleading would be a waste of words. Once Red Ben had set his mind on anything he was stubborn as a mule.
"All roight me bhoy," said the Irishman, rising. "Oi'll do jist pwhat ye say; but don't yez be afther lettin' thim carry off th' girrul whoile Oi'm spinding toime this way. It's a bit nervous Oi am about thrampin' round through th' woods afther darruk since Oi shot thot divvil Dil Noort, but it's no more he'll bother any wan at all, at all, an' soon Oi think some of his foine friends will be in th' same box wid him."
"You shoot um Del Norte?" asked Red Ben, with a show of interest. "Him say Irishman do it, but Ben no think it him friend."
"He said so?" cried O'Toole. "Begorra, thot's th'firrust toime Oi ivver knew av anny wan thot had hearrud a dead mon talk!"
"You think you kill um Del Norte?" asked the Indian.
"Oi know Oi did onless a man can live wid a bullet clean through his head," declared the Irishman.
Out of the shadows suddenly appeared a man, who exultantly cried, as he pointed a finger at O'Toole:
"Diablo! I have you! Traitor, this is my time of vengeance!"
As O'Toole saw before him Del Norte, with a white bandage about his head, the face of the Irishman turned ashen gray and his knees smote together.
"Howly saints!" he groaned. "It is the dead aloive!"
A moment later, uttering a wild shriek of terror, he turned and ran blindly toward the precipice close at hand, over which he rushed, being unable to check himself when he reached the brink.
As the poor fellow fell he uttered another shriek, which was followed by the silence of death.
The strange disappearance of O'Toole, who was unaccountably missing, caused much wonderment among the searchers for Inza Burrage and her captors.
There were at least thirty of these searchers in that vicinity, Frank Merriwell being their leader.
Some hunters camped on the northeastern shore of Lake Placid had seen Del Norte and his companions, having the girl a captive, land at a certain point after leaving the island, conceal the boat and canoe there, and then strike into the wilderness.
These hunters had aided the party of searchers led by Frank to pick up the trail early on the morning following the kidnapping of the girl.
Merriwell's skill as a trailer had enabled him to follow the villains to a point in the vicinity of the mountain where, at the suggestion of Red Ben, Del Norte had sought concealment in a cave, the mouth of which was hidden by thick shrubbery.
The craft of Red Ben in covering the trail had bothered and baffled the pursuers for some time. They had broken up into smaller parties for the purpose of scouring the woods thereabouts. Belmont Bland had insisted on accompanying them, and he clung to Merriwell with a persistence that annoyed Frank, who could not help suspecting the man of treachery.
It was Merry's belief that Bland had been well paid by Del Norte while in New York to betray Old Gripper's plans and keep the Mexican posted on Frank's movements. He had no proof of this, but all Bland's actions had seemed suspicious down to his seeming illness that had prevented him from returning to New York with Watson Scott.
Merriwell communicated his suspicions to Hodge, whom he urged to keep a close watch on Bland. He then divided the searchers into five parties, leaving Bart in charge of the one including Bland, while he took O'Toole with him.
The Irishman had disappeared, and, having appointed a definite spot at which to meet, Frank's party scattered to look for O'Toole and continue the search at the same time.
Was it chance or fate that led Merry to the vicinity of the foot of the precipice over which O'Toole plunged in his unreasoning terror? At any rate, Frank was down there in the gloom of the valley. He heard the last cry that came from the doomed man's lips as he fell, and a few moments later, a short distance away, there came a crashing amid the trees, followed by a sodden thud and silence.
Merry shuddered, for he knew the cry had been thatof a human being, and he felt that he would find the unfortunate wretch at the spot where the crash and thud had sounded. With his rifle ready for use, he tried to obtain a position which would command a clear view of the brink of the precipice far, far above him, but this was not easy, and up there on the mountain no living thing seemed stirring.
Darkness was gathering in the silent valley. Through the trees the western sky glowed redly, but this glow was fading and dying behind the black peaks.
That a terrible tragedy had occurred Merry was certain, but whether a human being had fallen from the mountain by some misstep or had been hurled to his doom he could not say.
He did not hesitate long.
Advancing swiftly, alert and ready for anything, he sought the one who had fallen. His keen eyes soon discovered a dark form sprawled on the ground.
"I was not mistaken," he muttered, as he knelt beside the form. "It is a man. Here is where he crashed down through the branches of this tree. Poor devil! Who can it be? I wonder if he still lives."
He turned the man upon his back, discovering signs of life as he did so. Hastily lighting a match, he held the blaze protected by his curved hands and threw the light upon the man's face.
"O'Toole!" he gasped.
The Irishman was breathing faintly, and instantly Frank did what he could to restore him. In a few moments the poor fellow moaned a bit.
Striking another match, Merry found O'Toole's eyes were wide open, but he was bleeding from the mouth and presented a ghastly appearance. He was conscious, however.
"O'Toole, where are you hurt?" asked Merry.
"Me back is broke," was the faint answer. "Oi'm a dead mon."
"What happened? How did you fall? Tell me, for, at least, I may be able to avenge you."
"It's the dead returned to loife!" gasped the dying man. "Oi saw him up there, me bhoy!"
"Who did you see?"
"Thot human divvil Porrfeeus dil Noort."
"Impossible! Del Norte is dead."
"Thin it wur his ghost, fer Oi saw him, with his—face pale—an' a whoite bandage about his head. This is me punishmint—fer havin'—fer havin' anything to do wid th' loikes av him!"
O'Toole labored through this speech with failing strength, and Frank saw he was sinking rapidly.
"Tell me quickly, man," urged Merry, "just where you saw him."
"Up yonder, me bhoy. Red Ben is there. Oi found him, an' Oi wur—talkin' wid him. Oi know Ben,an' Oi saved his loife wance by—by stroikin' up the hand av a mon who wur—goin' to shoot him."
It was with the greatest difficulty that O'Toole labored to draw his breath. Frank was deeply moved by the dying agonies of the unfortunate fellow, for Merry's experience convinced him that the Irishman was indeed dying.
However, Frank felt it his duty to learn everything possible while O'Toole could speak, and so he urged him to go on.
"It's me best Oi—did fer ye, Misther Merriwell—an' fer th' girrul. Oi had Red Ben ready to—ready to turrn on th' villains—pwhat carried her off. It's your promise av protiction he asked fer if he—done thot. Oi wur comin'—to foind ye. Jist thin th'—the divvil—dead ur aloive—walked out, pointin' av—his finger at me. Oi shtarted to run away, an' thin—an' thin Oi fell. Thot's all, me bhoy."
Remarkable and unaccountable though it seemed, Frank came to believe, while O'Toole talked, that Del Norte still lived. That explained the kidnapping of Inza. Merry had wondered that Del Norte's late companions should make such a move; but now, knowing the Mexican's passion for her, the motive of her capture was clear.
The thought of Inza in the hands of that villain fired Frank's blood.
"If Del Norte lives, O'Toole," said Merry, "I swearto you now that you shall be avenged, for never will I know a moment of rest until Inza is rescued and he is dead beyond the shadow of a doubt."
A gurgling groan came from the Irishman. Striking another match, Frank saw the man was dead.
The moon came up in due time and flooded the wooded mountain wilds with its mellow light.
With the caution of a creeping panther Frank Merriwell had climbed the mountain side. He had waited patiently for the moon to rise, believing it would aid him on that unfamiliar ground. He was now in the vicinity of the top of the precipice over which the Irishman had plunged to his death.
Suddenly a sound reached his ears, causing him to crouch on the alert, with his rifle ready for use.
He quickly decided that some one was approaching the precipice, and in this he made no mistake. Twice he caught a glimpse of the man before the latter appeared in the full moonlight. When this man did appear, Frank's heart gave a mighty bound of exultation, and the butt of the rifle leaped to his shoulder.
"Halt, Del Norte!" he commanded, in a low, distinct voice. "Stand in your tracks! If you try to run I'll shoot you dead!"
Del Norte it was, and he stopped like a man turned to stone.
"Up with your hands!" ordered Merriwell. "Your heart is covered by my rifle!"
For a single instant it seemed that the villain would make an effort to reach cover. Had he attempted it Frank would have shot him down. This Merry did not wish to do, as he intended forcing the scoundrel to give Inza up.
The Mexican's courage to attempt escape by a plunge into the shadows failed him, and reluctantly he lifted his empty hands, snarling an oath.
"Keep them up!" ordered Merry, as he slowly advanced.
But when he was fairly in the moonlight another voice issuing from the shadows near at hand brought him to a halt.
"Drop um gun! Ben him ready to shoot!"
It was the redskin sentinel.
Frank glanced round without turning his head, but he could see nothing of Red Ben.
"Shoot, Ben—shoot him down!" panted Del Norte.
"Ben got him foul," was the assurance. "Him shoot you, Ben shoot him."
"Shoot first, you fool!" snarled the Mexican.
"No shoot 'less have to," was the retort. "Ben he no want hang for murder."
Frank realized that he was in a trap. Were he to fire at Del Norte it was almost certain the hidden redskin would shoot from cover. In his eagerness he had stepped into a bad snare. His wits worked swiftly todiscover a manner in which he might extricate himself.
"Del Norte," he quickly said, "listen to me. We have met here face to face, and we are deadly enemies. The end of our enmity must be destruction for one of us. There can be no other end."
"You are the one, Señor Merriwell," declared Del Norte. "Had you shot me from cover you might have escaped. But now——"
"I never strike a foe from cover. We are face to face, and I propose that we settle our trouble man to man in combat. I challenge you to fight me."
"Heap fair," said Red Ben, from the shadows, satisfaction in his voice.
"Why should I agree?" cried Del Norte. "I have the best of you now. A friend of mine has you covered, gringo dog, and he can shoot you down."
"Ben him no do it 'less forced," declared the hidden Indian. "Him make fair offer. Let best man win. You kill him, you have gal. He kill you, he git gal. Heap fair."
Plainly the redskin was delighted with the proposition, and Frank saw this was the only way out of the trap.
"Select the weapons, Del Norte," he said. "I accept Red Ben as the referee. It's plain he believes in fair play."
The Mexican realized there was no method of avoiding the encounter, so he cried:
"It shall be knives, and I'll drive mine through your heart, cur of a gringo! With pistols you would be my equal, but I know the art of fighting with the knife, and I'll cut you to pieces!"
"Knives it shall be," agreed Frank, still holding the man covered. "If you have a pistol, cast it aside. Should you try to shoot as you pretend to drop the pistol, I'll drop you where you are."
Uttering a sneering laugh, Del Norte removed and flung aside his coat, saying his pistol was in it. He produced a knife, the blade of which glittered in the moonlight.
"I have no weapon of that sort," said Merry. "Have you another?"
"Here," called Red Ben.
Something whizzed through the air and fell at Frank's feet.
It was the Indian's hunting knife.
Del Norte was advancing, the moonlight showing a deadly look of hatred on his face.
Merry dropped his rifle and flung off his coat in a twinkling. Stooping, he caught up Red Ben's knife just as his foe rushed upon him.
With a quick, sidestepping movement, Merry flung up his hand and deftly parried the blow of Del Norte's blade, steel clashing against steel.
"Ha!" panted Del Norte, as he was flung back by a surge of Merry's powerful arm. "Next time, gringo—next time!"
He was at Frank again in a twinkling, but once more the young American met and baffled him.
Out of the shadows stalked Red Ben, holding his rifle in both hands and standing near as if ready to use it in a twinkling. The moonlight fell full on his dusky face, showing there an expression of savage satisfaction in the battle he was witnessing.
"Best man shall have gal," he muttered. "Ben he see fair play. Merriwell him best man, Ben stand by him."
The ground was somewhat rough. Over its broken surface the men dashed, and leaped, and turned, and circled. Once Del Norte uttered an exclamation of satisfaction as he struck, but Merry leaped away and the keen blade of Del Norte's knife simply cut a long slit in his shirt front.
"Near it that time, gringo dog!" panted the Mexican.
"A miss is as good as a mile," retorted Frank.
As the blades clashed together again Frank's knuckles were slightly cut and the blood flowed freely.
"First blood!" exulted Del Norte.
"A scratch," was the retort.
But soon that scratch began to prove troublesome, for the flowing blood covered the haft of the knife andmade it slippery. This came near proving fatal for the American youth. Again the blades clashed, and, with a twisting movement, the Mexican wrenched Merry's knife from his grasp.
The weapon rattled on the rocks ten feet away.
"Now you die, gringo!" snarled Frank's enemy, with a wolfish laugh.
He launched himself at the defenseless youth with frightful fury, but Frank managed to clutch the wrist of his foe and check the stroke that would have been fatal. With a surge he flung the Mexican aside, at the same time springing toward the spot where Red Ben's hunting knife lay. The moonlight revealed it plainly, and Merry had it in a twinkling.
Del Norte had followed him up, and was at him with a madness that was almost irresistible. He sent Frank staggering from the shock, and Merry tripped over a stone, nearly falling.
Seeing this, the Mexican uttered another cry of exultation, which turned into a curse as he saw the youth regain his footing like a cat.
"Much good fight!" muttered Red Ben.
"I'll get you yet, gringo!" panted the Mexican. "I have sworn to leave you dead, with my knife in your heart. Then the beautiful Señorita Inza will be mine—all mine! With you dead and gone, I'll have your mine and your sweetheart."
In this manner he sought to infuriate Frank and lead him to some act of rashness.
Although Frank's blood was burning like lava in his veins, outwardly he was wonderfully cool. As always happened in a time of great danger, he laughed outright.
"You boaster!" he exclaimed.
Del Norte was beginning to breathe heavily from his exertions. Again and again he struck at Frank, but each time the strokes were parried, blocked, or avoided. At last he began to realize that the American was a wonderful fighter with a knife, and, to his dismay, he saw Merriwell appeared almost as fresh and vigorous as when the fight began.
"Must end it quick," thought Del Norte.
But when he lunged again Frank leaped aside and struck him in the shoulder, from which the blood flowed swiftly, staining the Mexican's white shirt.
"The fiends must protect you, gringo!" hissed the wounded man.
"Fair fight!" muttered Red Ben. "Merriwell him win, he git gal."
For a few moments Del Norte's injury seemed to make him fiercer and more dangerous. A little while he kept Frank on the defensive, and then he was slashed in the forearm.
Clapping his free hand to the wound, he leaped backward, Spanish oaths flowing from his lips.
"Him beaten!" whispered the watching Indian. "Merriwell kill him soon now."
Frank followed Del Norte up.
"Stand up to it, greaser," he urged. "The fight has just begun. You have threatened to leave your knife in my heart. I could have split yours a dozen times, but I have spared you. When you are well cut up, I'll wring from your lips the secret of Inza's hiding place."
"Never!" vowed the Mexican. "If die I do, I'll tell nothing. But I'll not die! I'll yet kill you!"
Fancying he saw an opening, as Frank's hands were both hanging by his sides, Del Norte leaped in. He was sent reeling back with another wound, this time in the ribs.
Frank followed up his failing foe, forcing him to the edge of the cleared space. He kept close, fearing Del Norte might attempt to flee. Instead, the man danced round Merry till his back was toward the centre of the cleared space, while the dark shadows of the scraggy timber was behind Frank.
Again Del Norte rushed, but this time his wrist was seized and given a wrench that brought him, with a gasping groan of pain, to his knees.
"Fight done now!" muttered Red Ben, as he saw Merriwell lift his blood-stained blade.
"You're at my mercy, Del Norte," said Merry. "Ican kill you with a single stroke. I'll spare you if you speak the truth. Where is Inza Bur——"
Out of the shadows behind Merriwell darted a figure. A heavy club crashed on Frank's head.
Thus treacherously struck down, the brave youth dropped his knife and fell senseless to the ground.
When Frank regained consciousness and opened his eyes he found he was lying on the rocky floor of a cave, his arms being bound at his sides. The place was lighted by two flaring torches thrust in crevices of the rocks.
Near at hand were three men. One was Del Norte, pale from loss of blood, yet with a murderous light gleaming in his eyes. Another man was Red Ben, who stood with folded arms, silently watching. The third man was unknown to Merry.
The Mexican uttered an exclamation of satisfaction as he saw Frank's eyes unclose.
"At last he is conscious," said Del Norte. "I wished him to have his reason when he died. Look you, dog of a gringo, your time has come. I bear many wounds on my body and limbs made by the knife in your hand. You have only one scratch on your knuckles. But soon you will have this knife of mine in your heart!"
He displayed the weapon, stooping to sweep it flashing in the torchlight before the eyes of the helpless youth.
Frank did not shrink in the least.
"Oh, you're defiant, I see, Señor Gringo!" snarledMerry's enemy. "Soon I will make you groan with agony. Your sweet señorita is near in this very cave, but you shall not see her. She is guarded by one of my faithful ones. When I take her from here we'll leave your lifeless carcass behind. Have you still a grain of hope in your soul? Cast it away. Even though thousands of your friends were near they could not find you in this place. You are doomed."
He took savage pleasure in taunting Frank thus. Again he swept the knife before the eyes of the helpless youth, repeating his threats.
"Beg, gringo dog!" he exclaimed—"beg for your worthless life!"
"A thousand greasers could not make me do that!" declared the defiant captive.
"Do you think so? We'll see! Remember that once I vowed to cut from your mouth your stinging tongue? That was when we stood face to face in New York. You thought my opportunity to keep that oath would never come, did you? It has come at last! Before I kill you I shall cut out your tongue! Ha! ha! ha! How like you the prospect, brave gringo?"
Again Frank looked around. Surely he could expect no assistance from either of the mad Mexican's companions. The white man stood looking on with an air of indifference. Red Ben was motionless, his rifle leaning against the wall at his side.
"You see there is no escape," laughed Del Norte."At last you begin to understand. You have triumphed over others, but in me you meet your master."
"My master—no! I had you at my mercy when I was treacherously struck down from behind. This Indian knows it, for he saw it all. Porfias del Norte, of all vile things in human form you are the vilest! The mongrel dog that bites the hand that feeds it is your superior. You are——"
With a furious oath, the taunted man flung himself on the speaker, clutching him by the throat.
"Out with your tongue!" he cried. "I'll choke you till it protrudes from your mouth, and then I'll cut it off!"
A feminine shriek rang through the cave, and out of the darkness into the light of the flaring torches rushed Inza Burrage, followed by the man who had been guarding her. She sprang at Del Norte with both hands outthrust and flung him from the prostrate form of her lover, sending him rolling over and over on the rocky floor of the cave, snarling forth profanity in Spanish.
He dropped the knife, and she caught it up, ready to stand over Frank and defend him to the last.
But to the aid of the frenzied girl came most unexpectedly another. Red Ben grasped his rifle and with the butt of the weapon struck down the man who had pursued Inza. Quickly reversing the weapon, he held it ready to shoot, at the same time saying:
"Red Ben him say he see fair play an' best man git gal. Merriwell him best man, but he no have fair play. Now Ben see him git it! I shoot first man who touch him or touch gal!"
They knew he meant it. Del Norte sat up, his pale face contorted with fury.
"Um better stay still," said the redskin, turning the muzzle of the rifle on the Mexican.
"Quick, Inza!" urged Frank—"cut these ropes! Set me free! It's our opportunity!"
Immediately she stooped and obeyed. Frank rose as quick as possible.
"Red Ben," he declared, "you'll not lose by this act of manhood! I'll remember you."
"Take gal that way," urged the Indian, with a jerk of his head. "Git out of cave that way! Quick! Ben him foller."
Merry did not delay. Grasping Inza, he hurried her into the darkness. The cave narrowed, the walls closed in, and the roof came down. Crouching and feeling their way, they pressed on. Almost on hands and knees they crept out into the open air amid a thick screen of brush and shrubbery that concealed the mouth of the cave.
"Thank Heaven!" murmured Inza, on the verge of collapsing.
"Where is that Indian?" cried Frank. "I cannot leave him alone to face those men."
"No leave him," said a voice, as Red Ben came leaping out from the cave. "Him here. Back up, keep um odders front of gun all time. They come now prit' quick. Go, Merriwell, with gal. Ben stop um here."
He sought cover near the mouth of the cave, urging Merry to get Inza away. Then came one of the baffled villains hurrying from the cave. A spout of flame leaped from Red Ben's rifle and the report awoke the mountain echoes and started a few loose pebbles rolling on the steep slope above them.
The pursuer dropped just outside the mouth of the cave. If others were close behind him, they halted instantly, not caring to show themselves and share his fate.
Frank had lifted Inza and carried her through the brush and shrubbery. As he emerged he found himself face to face with several men, and his heart bounded when the voice of Hodge joyously shouted his name. With Hodge was Bruce Browning, Belmont Bland, and others.
"Merry, you've found her—you've rescued her!" burst delightedly from Hodge.
"Listen!" gasped Belmont Bland. "What is that sound?"
On the steeps above there was a murmuring movement, and, looking upward, they seemed to see the mountain stirring slightly in the moonlight. The rushing murmur grew louder, and pebbles began to rattle amid the bowlders and ledges near at hand.
"A landslide!" shouted Frank, horrified. "Flee for your lives!"
As he uttered the words he saw Red Ben come leaping like a deer from the shrubbery.
"Follow!" cried the Indian as he passed them, and fled along the side of the mountain.
What ensued was like a terrible nightmare to Merriwell. He remembered lifting Inza bodily and running for their lives with her in his arms. Pebbles and small stones rained about him, while the rushing murmur grew louder and louder. Beneath his feet at one time the whole mountain side seemed sliding into the valley. A great bowlder, weighing many tons, went bounding and crashing past them like a living thing seeking escape from the awful peril. Small trees were slipping and moving toward the valley.
On and on Frank raced, straining every nerve. Not one of his companions was burdened like him, yet not one of them made greater speed in the effort to escape. His exertions were almost superhuman. It seemed that the knowledge of Inza's awful peril actually lifted him over every obstacle.
Finally some one clutched and stopped him. He found it was Red Ben, who said:
"All right now. Mountain him no run down hill here."
It was true Frank had escaped from the track of the landslide and had brought his sweetheart to safety. Behind them the avalanche of earth, and stones, and timber was heaping itself on the tiny plateau and pouring over the brink of the cliff in a cascade that thundered into the valley below. All around the rocky slopes and wooded steeps were roaring back the sounds like monsters awakened from peaceful slumber and enraged at being thus disturbed.
All this had been brought about by the shot fired by Red Ben. That small concussion had started rolling a single pebble that was the keystone. Recent rains had loosened that pebble. Others followed it, and a bit of earth began to slip downward. This dislodged larger stones, and soon the landslide was under way.
It ceased almost as quickly as it began. The grumbling, roaring mountains continued raging for a few moments, and then they, too, became silent. The bright moonlight revealed the change wrought by the landslide, and it told those who had escaped that the mouth of the cave that had been the hiding place of Del Norte and his companions was closed forever by tons of earth, burying the wretches in a living tomb.
Slowly Frank's friends gathered around him. They were all there; all had escaped. Of the entire party Belmont Bland was the only one missing. One remembered having seen Bland running blindly toward the brink of the precipice, apparently having forgotten itsexistence. No human eye ever beheld him afterward. If he did not rush blindly over the precipice, it is likely he halted on the brink and turned to escape in another direction when it was too late, being swept over by the rushing landslide.
At the foot of that precipice the body of Pat O'Toole was also buried where Frank had left it when he lost no time in climbing the mountain side.
As Frank and his party left the mountain side there remained two men buried alive in the cave whose mouth was closed by the landslide!
"Where are you, Del Norte?" cried one of the imprisoned men, in a gasping, frightened voice when the roar and rumble of the landslide had ceased, and they began to realize their terrible position.
"I am here," answered the other. "What can we do, Ridgeway?"
"Do? Why, we can die like dogs! There is nothing else for it. You're sure there is no other way out of this cave?"
"No other way. Perhaps we can dig out."
"Not in a thousand years! What have we to dig with—our bare hands?"
"I have my knife—the knife with which I was going to cut out the tongue of that cursed gringo, Merriwell! Why didn't I do it?"
"You know why. Red Ben went back on us, may the fiends take the redskin cur! He helped Merriwell get away with the girl. When Sears tried to follow the Indian shot him, and he's buried out there somewhere beneath that landslide. But he's better off thanwe are, for he is dead, and we must die! I can't die, Del Norte! I'm not ready to die! I'm not fit to die!"
Then the poor wretch began to weep and pray in the utmost anguish of soul.
Del Norte seemed cowed. He had burned many matches in order that by their faint glow he might examine the great mass of earth and stone that was piled on and crushed into the place that had once been the entrance to the cave. He had seen that a mighty bowlder was blocking the greater part of the former entrance. That stone alone would be enough to imprison them hopelessly, but the sounds of the landslide which had made the mountain roar and shake had satisfied him that the bowlder was held in place by a mass of earth and timber through which, with the best implements, it would be impossible to dig in a week.
"Merriwell has triumphed!" muttered the Mexican. "He will have no more trouble from me."
"Fiends take you!" snarled Ridgeway. "Why did you ever cross my path, and tempt me to such a death with your money? For the love of Heaven, light another match!"
"I have but three more."
"Can't you find a brand from the fire? Let's have some light! We had torches. Where are they?"
"They were extinguished by the rush of air whenthe slide took place. I've tried to find them, but failed. I'll try again."
"I'm going mad—mad!" groaned Ridgeway.
Del Norte began to search for the extinguished torches. After a time, during which his companion wept, prayed, and cursed by turns, he discovered one of them.
Then he carefully struck one of his matches. The extinguished torch was a piece of resinous pine, and it burned up quickly, giving a flaring light and sending up a wavering stream of black smoke.
By the light the two men gazed into each other's ghastly faces. Their eyes were distended with horror. Their mouths were dry and their lips drawn back from their gleaming teeth. They looked like beasts.
"Curse you, Porfias del Norte!" snarled Ridgeway. "It was you who brought me to this!"
"Bah! It was your greed for the money I paid you that brought you here."
"Had I not met you——"
"You might have been hanged for some crime. Dying this way will save you from hanging."
"Don't talk of hanging!" panted Ridgeway. "If ever a man deserved it you are that man!"
"But I was not born to be hanged."
"Better that than this kind of a death! At least, you would be out in the open air, with a chance to breathe. I am stifling! I feel these walls crowding in uponme! They are going to crush me! Keep them off! keep them off!"
The wretch flung himself on the ground and writhed with agony and fear.
With the torch in his shaking hands, Del Norte stepped forward and kicked his abject and fear-tortured companion.
"Get up, here!" he snarled. "We will take one more look. We will see once more if there is any chance of escape."
Although Ridgeway declared there was no hope, he got up. With the Mexican leading, they passed back into the cave, being forced several times to bend low in a crouching position to avoid striking their heads against the rocky roof.
There were three chambers and only one straight passage from chamber to chamber. It was a simple matter to explore the entire cave. When they came at last into the third chamber they soon found themselves at the end of it, with the dank wall of stone before them.
For some moments they stood quite still, staring helplessly at this wall.
Suddenly a shriek burst from the lips of Ridgeway.
"Doomed!" he cried. "No escape! I feel the mountain collapsing! The walls are crowding in upon us! It's the end! Oh, for just one more breath offree air! For just one more sight of the world outside!"
With that cry, he dropped flat on his face and lay still, as if death had come to claim him, also.
"Get up!" harshly ordered Del Norte, again kicking the man. "Get up, or I'll leave you here alone. I am going back."
Why he desired to return to what had once been the mouth of the cave he could not tell, for there he would be no nearer liberty than in his present position.
The smoke from the torch was filling the place and making the air foul.
"We'll smother in a little while!" thought the Mexican. "It's a wonder we have not smothered already."
Again he kicked his companion and called for him to rise.
Ridgeway lifted his head and stared with terrible eyes at his comrade in misery.
"Did you have a mother?" he asked.
"Of course I did!"
"Did you promise her you would be good?"
Del Norte swore in Spanish.
"I'll not stay here a minute longer!" he declared. "If you stay, you'll remain in the dark."
"Hold on!" commanded Ridgeway, lifting himself on one hand and stretching the other out to the Mexican. "Don't you dare leave me! You're the man who brought this on me! Some one fired a bullet throughyour head, but it did not kill you. I wish it had! You thought you bore a charmed life; you thought nothing could kill you. Lead failed to do it, but God sent the landslide, and you are as good as dead. Ha! ha! ha!"
Del Norte started away.
"Stand where you are!" yelled Ridgeway, leaping up with amazing quickness. "You were not killed by the bullet, and now, for all of the landslide, you still live. You're a fiend, and you ought to die! I am commanded to kill you! I must do it!"
The Mexican did not dare turn his back on the raving man. Again he started away, but this time he moved backward, keeping his eyes on Ridgeway, who came creeping after him, crouching a little and seeming ready to spring.
Suddenly Ridgeway leaped. His arms shot out and his fingers closed on Del Norte's neck.
"I must kill you!" he yelled. "I am the one chosen to do it! Your time has come!"
The torch fell to the floor and lay there, spluttering and flaring. By this dim and flickering light a fearful struggle took place.
Ridgeway had obtained a powerful clasp on Del Norte's throat, and the Mexican could not hurl him off. They staggered against the wall, which seemed to fling them off. They swayed from side to side, once staggering over the spot where the torch lay.
Then the Mexican succeeded at last in drawing something from his bosom. It flashed brightly in the dim torchlight as he struck with it. There was the impact of a muffled blow, and Ridgeway gave a great start, seeming to grow suddenly straight and tall.
Again the Mexican struck, but now, instead of growing straighter, the other man seemed suddenly to collapse. His breath escaped from his lips in a husky groan, and he dropped in a sprawling heap on the ground at Del Norte's feet.
The man who remained erect backed off a little, staring at the other.
"I had to do it!" whispered Del Norte. "The fool drove me to it! He was mad! He had me by the throat, and he would have killed me! I had to do it!"
Over and over he kept repeating those words:
"I had to do it!"
He felt himself shaking from his head to his feet. On his forehead were great, cold beads of perspiration. His heart seemed choking him.