It all took but a few seconds, and before the white savages had ceased to shake with laughter as they were thinking how their plucky enemy was overcome with fear, Trim was at the edge.
They reached out to grasp him, each extending one arm and holding the other back to strike with a knife.
Trim suddenly pulled himself up until his chin was level with the pulley block, at the same time doubling up his knees so that they touched his chin.
Instantly his body straightened as he threw his feet forward with all the force that he could command. The white men, still laughing and confident of success, were taken completely by surprise.
Trim’s left foot caught one of the men upon the neck and the other squarely upon the forehead.
Both staggered back, and the one who was struck in the neck lost his balance and tumbled with a loud howl of terror into the chasm. The other dropped his knife and clutched blindly at Trim’s leg to prevent himself from falling.
This clutch caused Trim to slide still further along the rope so that in a half second he was directly over the shelf. He did not let go of the pulley block yet.
Before he ventured to do that he gave the white man another vigorous kick. The fellow, already half stunned, let go his leg and rolled over the edge to join his companion three hundred feet below.
Then Trim dropped to the shelf with a sigh of relief.
“I reckon there’ll be no more trouble from them,” he said to himself, “and that accounts for four of these six men that I came to find. Now for the others.”
He listened a moment, and was certain that he heard approaching footsteps.
“I must have the rest of these fellows alive,” he thought, “or nobody will believe that I have met them.”
With this he hastily drew his knife and cut the small cord that was used for pulling the pulley block from one side of the chasm to the other.
In a moment this cord was dangling from his hands down the side of the chasm. Rapidly he coiled it up and held it as he would a lariat.
The sound of the footsteps had ceased. Trim cautiously made his way around the corner of the ledge from where he had seen his two enemies appear.
A few strides brought him to level ground beyond the edge of the chasm. He thought he saw a figure dodging among the trees at a little distance. He lay flat on the ground and waited. Presently[Pg 32]he saw a white man drawing carefully near the edge of the chasm.
“This must be King Mulvey,” thought Trim, “and it looks as if he had heard my shrieks and the howls of one of those fellows and had come out to see what was going on.”
This was indeed the case. Mulvey, who was dressed more like a savage than a white man, and who carried a fine cord in one hand, crept to the edge of the rock and looked over. From that point he could see down to the shelf where Trim had had his struggle.
Nobody was in sight. Mulvey drew himself up and looked around in evident surprise and alarm.
“That cord,” thought Trim, “is undoubtedly the one with which he committed his murders. He did the Chinese bowstring act with it, and he has done it for the last time, although he’s got it now with the hope of twisting it around my neck.”
Mulvey once more looked over as if he still hoped to see some sign of his men below.
Trim arose and advanced carefully toward him. Mulvey heard him, and started up suddenly.
This was what Trim wanted, for it gave him a good mark for his throw. There was a whir of flying rope, and the next instant Mulvey’s neck was in a noose.
Trim drew the cord so tight that the man could hardly breathe. Then he went up to him, and at the point of a revolver compelled him to lead the way to his castle.
This castle proved to be little more than a hut, but in it was the steeple-jack, Jemmy Miller, too frightened to make any resistance.
Both men were at Trim’s mercy, Mulvey because by a single jerk of the cord Trim could have choked him to death, Miller because he knew that Trim was ready to fire at any sign of flight.
It took them many long hours to return to the waterfall by a roundabout route, for Trim would not attempt to take his prisoners down the steep path by which he had climbed up.
They arrived at last, however, and on the next day began to journey back to Kimberley. They met with no adventures of importance on the way back, and it is sufficient to say that Trim was received with great enthusiasm by the officials of that city.
He left Mulvey and Miller there to be dealt with according to the law, and, faithful to his promise to Dobbin, set out for America, where he found plenty of detective work to do.
His first experience upon his return home is told in “Trim Changes Cars; or, Taking Big Chances for a Quick Capture,” in No. 12 of theNew Nick Carter Weekly.
[THE END.]
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5—Trim Among the Bushmen; or, Searching for a Lost Mine in Australia. By the author of “Nick Carter.”6—Trim’s Double Header; or, Snaring Human Game with Decoys. By the author of “Nick Carter.”7—Trim on the Safety Valve; or, Taking Long Chances with Death. By the author of “Nick Carter.”8—Trim’s Troublesome Tiger; or, How His Prisoner Escaped the Gallows. By the author of “Nick Carter.”9—Trim in Cape Town; or, The Man with a Strange Limp. By the author of “Nick Carter.”10—Trim in the Diamond Fields of Kimberley. By the author of “Nick Carter.”11—Trim in the Wilds; or, Hunting a Criminal on the Dark Continent. By the author of “Nick Carter.”12—Trim Changes Cars; or, Taking Big Chances for a Quick Capture. By the author of “Nick Carter.”13—Trim in the Main Shaft; or, Hunting Criminals a Thousand Feet Underground. By the author of “Nick Carter.”14—Trim Shoots the Grain Chute; or, A Surprise Party on Board the Falcon. By the author of “Nick Carter.”15—Trim’s Round-up in Detroit; or, a Long Chase Ended in a Hurry. By the author of “Nick Carter.”
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