CHAPTER XXX.DRIVEN TO DEATH.
The first step to freedom was a success, and consequently Jerry felt greatly elated. He hesitated a moment, slightly bewildered by several expedients that suggested themselves to his mind. Then he picked up the knife and crawled noiselessly back across the floor.
He safely reached his sleeping place, and threw himself down in his former attitude. He lay perfectly still for nearly five minutes. Then he was satisfied that Bogle and Sparwick were buried deep in slumber. He turned around and gave Hamp a gentle shake. The lad stirred and sleepily opened his eyes.
“Hamp, are you awake?” Jerry whispered, softly, in his ear.
“Yes; what’s up?” came the drowsy reply.
“Hush! don’t talk so loud. I’ll do the talking. Are you sure you’re wide awake and can understand me?”
“Of course I am,” whispered Hamp, a little impatiently.
Then he saw that Jerry’s arms were free.
“You are in luck,” he added. “Are you going to escape?”
“Yes; and I want you to go with me,” Jerry replied, putting his mouth close to Hamp’s ear. “I haven’t time to explain now, only I found a knife and cut my arms loose. Turn yours this way a little bit.”Hamp obeyed, and Jerry deftly severed the ropes.
“Now lie still until you see me open the door,” he resumed. “That will be the signal. Then jump and sneak out after me. I want to get our caps and snowshoes first.”
“Are you going to take Brick along?” Hamp asked.
“No; I wish we could. He is chained fast to Bogle. I wouldn’t dare to try. But if we get away all right, Brick won’t be a prisoner long. That old trapper was prowling around here to-night. We’ll strike right for his camp. The tracks will help us to find it. You understand what you are to do now?”
“Yes; I’ll be ready.”
“Watch for the door to open,” Jerry added. “Lie still, and don’t make a sound. Better keep your arms under you, in case Sparwick should get awake. If he does, give a little cough.”
“All right,” whispered Hamp.
Having thus taken all possible precautions against failure, Jerry once more crawled noiselessly away from the bed.
When he was half way across the room, he ventured to rise to his feet. Then, bending low, he moved to and fro in search of what he wanted. He found the snowshoes and the caps without any trouble. He softly opened the cupboard and put some crackers and cold meat in his pocket.
He wanted a rifle badly, but they all rested on one pair of hooks, and he was afraid that he could not get one downwithout making a racket. So he reluctantly concluded to do without.
Jerry softly crossed to the door. He undid the fastenings and pulled it half-way open. He stopped on the threshold and looked back into the room. It was a moment of thrilling suspense. He saw Hamp rise slowly to his feet and take a step forward.
Then, like a flash, Sparwick’s tall figure towered over the lad. There was a scuffle and a heavy fall. Two hoarse cries blended into one.
Jerry stood as one petrified. He heard Sparwick calling lustily for Bogle. He saw the latter spring to his feet, dragging Brick after him. Then Hamp’s voice rang sharp and clear, in tones of entreaty:
“Run, Jerry! run! I’ll hold him as long as I can.”
This broke the spell. Jerry knew that Hamp was beyond hope of rescue. He dropped the latter’s snowshoes, but held on to his own. He dashed over the threshold and into the moonlit clearing.
There was no time to look for the trapper’s tracks. He remembered his saying to Bogle that his camp lay north of the swamp. Luckily Jerry had his bearings, and knew what direction to take.
He sped around the end of the cabin and plunged into the thicket. As he ran on and on, the tumult behind him faded away. The recent cold snap had formed a crust on the snow, and he made pretty good progress. Now and then, however, he struck weak spots and broke through to his knees. At the end of half-an-hour he ventured to stop. He seated himself on a log and strapped hissnowshoes on securely. He was conscious of a feeling of elation. Not a sound could be heard but the rustle of the wind.
“I don’t believe they know which direction I took,” he reflected. “Anyway, I have a good start, and I mean to keep it. Once I find Mowry’s camp, I will be all right. I can’t afford to lose any time, so here goes.”
He struck off again at a swinging gait. The snowshoes made traveling a delightful task. The moonlight was a great help to him. It shone into the gloomy recesses of the swamp.
At the end of two hours he passed from the confines of the swamp into a fragrant pine forest. There was a steep hill some distance in front of him. He might have gone to right or left, but he was not sure that he had kept unswervingly to the north since he fled from the cabin.
Jerry vaguely feared that he had lost his bearings It occurred to him that from high ground he might put himself right, or catch a flickering gleam of Mowry’s campfire. So he toiled up the hill, never noting that his snowshoes left a plain imprint with every step. He gained a ridge and pushed along it for some distance.
But the undergrowth and timber were heavy, and he could not see far beyond them. He suddenly discovered that he was exhausted and worn out. He thought of climbing a tree to obtain an unobstructed view, but the effort seemed too great. He sat down on a snow-covered bowlder to rest. He was in a glowof heat and perspiration, and did not feel the cold. The silvery moonlight streamed upon an open glade in front of him.
The time sped by more quickly than Jerry knew. The keen, biting air roused him from a train of thought. He concluded to push on. He rose to his feet and stood debating which way to turn.
Before he could decide, a crashing noise in the bushes behind him sent a cold chill through his blood. He ran forward half-a-dozen yards and then turned his head. He was horrified to see Kyle Sparwick emerge from the bushes. The ruffian had a rifle in his hands. He drew it to his shoulder and took aim at Jerry.
“Stop right thar,” he cried. “The game is up, lad. I’ve got you.”
But Jerry did not stop. He melted away before Sparwick’s indignant eyes. In other words, he dodged behind the trunk of a convenient tree. Thence he gained the cover of thick bushes, and made a spurt over the ridge.
No shot followed him. Indeed, Sparwick had not intended to shoot. His object was to capture the lad. He uttered a yell of anger and started in pursuit. His quick, loping gait soon brought him in sight of Jerry.
Then the chase became doubly exciting. Threats of shooting were freely uttered. But Jerry did not let these distress him. He was satisfied, by this time, that Sparwick had some good reason for not rousing the night echoes with a rifle-shot.
The lad was soon at his wits’ end. He was moreangry than scared. It was not personal injury that he feared. Recapture meant the destruction of his hopes, and he wanted badly to save Brick’s father from paying fifteen thousand dollars to the rascally schemers. But he seemed doomed to failure. His enemy was rapidly and surely overhauling him. In desperation he picked up a short, thick billet of wood. He faced around and threw it.
The billet struck Sparwick’s right arm and knocked his rifle to the ground. With a snarl of rage and pain, he stooped to recover it.
“You’ll pay dear fur that when I git hold of you,” he shouted.
This ruse allowed Jerry to gain a dozen feet, and gave him fresh hope and courage.
“Mebbe I can outrun him, after all,” he thought. “If there was only cover enough to dodge and hide!”
But a moment later the ridge suddenly narrowed, and just ahead lay a huge, towering bowlder, crowned with pine trees. It jutted up sheerly, and Jerry knew that he had no time to scale it. He turned and ran to the left side of the ridge. There were tall, tangled bushes in the way, but he forced recklessly through them.
Then came a moment of frightful despair! The treacherous screen ended on the brink of a chasm. To draw back now was impossible.
Jerry’s feet slipped over the edge. With a hoarse cry on his lips, he shot down—down into the misty, yawning depths of space.
Several minutes later Sparwick crept tremblingly tothe verge of the precipice. With a white, scared face, he peeped over.
“Poor lad!” he muttered. “It’s the end of him—a straight fall of not less than a hundred feet. He must be smashed to a jelly. Well, dead men tell no tales. I reckon the fifteen thousand is safe. I’d better be makin’ tracks for the cabin.”
He turned away with a shudder.
CHAPTER XXXI.A FRIEND IN NEED.
It was an hour after dawn when Sparwick returned to the cabin. Bogle was up preparing breakfast. The boys lay on the bed with wide-open eyes. They were delighted to see that Sparwick had come back alone, but their exultation was quickly changed to deepest sorrow, when the story of Jerry’s sad accident was told.
They pleaded with their captors to have Jerry’s body recovered—a request that was firmly refused. After breakfast Bogle and Sparwick held a long and earnest discussion. Then, much to the amazement of the boys, they began to prepare for a journey.
“Where are you going?” Brick ventured to ask.
“None of your business,” Bogle replied. “You’ll know in good time.”
“Come on! Lively, now,” added Sparwick.
“I guess they’re afraid that trapper will find poor Jerry and make trouble,” Brick whispered to his companion, as they passed out of the door. “So they are going to hunt a safer hiding-place.”
“That’s about it,” assented Hamp.
There was no chance to say more. A sled was given to each lad, and they dropped into line behind Bogle, who assumed the lead with a rifle over his shoulder.
In the rear came Sparwick, dragging the third sled and keeping a watchful eye on the prisoners.
All morning the little party tramped steadily to the east. At noon they stopped long enough for a lunch. Then they pushed on, through scenery of the most lonely and rugged description, until three o’clock in the afternoon.
A deep valley now lay before them. It was densely covered with trees and undergrowth. After traversing it for half a mile, Bogle turned toward the base of the hill. He pushed through a strip of heavy timber and huge, scattered bowlders.
A moment later the weary travelers were at their destination.
The Rock House was aptly named. It was a sunken depression in the base of the mountain—a sort of cave with an open front.
In a short time the place presented a cozy and cheerful appearance. The luggage was unpacked, and the red flames danced in the stone fireplace. Sparwick brought in a dozen loads of pine boughs and made a soft bed.
It was long past dark when supper was ready. In spite of their grief the boys were very hungry. They enjoyed the meal. Then Bogle ordered them to bed.
“You needn’t think of escape,” he said. “This place is harder to find or get away from than the cabin in the swamp. Make the best of things, and in good time you’ll be free.”
He strolled back to the fire and, lighting his pipe, sat down beside Sparwick.
The boys felt too wretched and heartbroken to sleep. In tearful whispers they talked about Jerry.
“I can hardly believe that he is dead,” said Brick. “He was an awfully good fellow.”
“No better ever lived,” replied Hamp. “He was murdered, Brick. Sparwick drove him over that cliff. I’ll never rest until both these scoundrels are caught and punished.”
“Nor I,” added Brick. “We’ll devote our lives to it. It won’t seem long now until we are free.”
“But it takes a good while to go to New York and back from here,” said Hamp. “Anyhow, will Raikes know where to find us now?”
“They must have left a message for him at the cabin,” replied Brick; “or perhaps it was all arranged beforehand.”
At this point Bogle and Sparwick came over to bed, and the conversation ended abruptly.
We must now return to the events of the previous night.
After shooting sixty feet downward from the top of the precipice, Jerry plunged into the bushy branches of a pine tree that jutted outward from a crevice in the wall of rock. He stuck for an instant, and then slipped through. He fell a farther distance of thirty feet, and landed in another pine tree.
This time the branches held him tight, and there he remained in a state of unconsciousness until daybreak.
About that time Jack Mowry, the trapper, happened along, in search of a brace of partridges for breakfast. Fortunately he glanced up and saw the lad.
The angle of the cliff was not so sharp at the base. It offered plenty of footholds. The trapper clambered up for ten feet. He reached the tree and succeeded in extricating Jerry, and getting him safely to the ground.
The trapper carried Jerry tenderly to his camp, which was less than half a mile distant—a cozy bark shanty in a wind-sheltered nook of the forest.
Mowry was one of nature’s own physicians, and knew just what to do. After satisfying himself that no bones were broken, he rubbed Jerry vigorously from head to foot, and dressed his bruises and scratches. Then he rolled him in blankets and dosed him with hot drinks.
This wise treatment undoubtedly saved the lad’s life, but it did not entirely counteract the effects of his fall and exposure to the bitter cold. He struggled out of his stupor to a sort of semi-consciousness. He talked in a rambling and incoherent manner, and tossed restlessly in a fever.
For two days he remained in this condition. Mowry tended him faithfully and constantly, never leaving his side for a moment.
On the third morning Jerry opened his eyes with a clear mind. He was puzzled to find himself in such surroundings. He remembered all that had happened up to the time of his fall. He listened with wonder to Mowry’s explanation. He was startled to find out howmuch time had elapsed. Then, in an eager voice, he told the whole story from beginning to end.
The trapper was vastly indignant to learn of the rascality of his old associates.
“Of course I’ll help you, lad,” he declared. “I knowed suthin’ was wrong when I run across the cabin, an’ they didn’t even ask me in ter warm my bones. An’ that was me you heard outside that night. I was tryin’ ter diskiver the mystery. I reckon I didn’t git back until arter you fell, else I’d a’ heard you screech. You see, I took a roundabout way so as to hide my tracks.”
“Then we must act at once,” replied Jerry. “If we don’t, we won’t save the money. Raikes may return from New York any day.”
“Time enough, lad,” assured Mowry. “The rascals think you’re dead, an’ they won’t dream of leavin’ the cabin. If you take keer of yourself ter-day, you’ll be able ter tramp down to Kingman an’ organize a party.”
Jerry insisted that he was as well as ever, and wanted to get up. But an effort satisfied him that this was out of the question. So he submitted to the inevitable as patiently as possible.
Mowry fed him on nourishing meat and broth during the day, and by evening all traces of fever had left him.
A hasty breakfast was eaten in the morning, and the camp was put in order. Then Mowry and Jerry started on their long tramp. The trapper took a hand-sled with him, and whenever the level ground permitted, he gave the lad a lift. Thus the journey was robbed of half itsfatigue, and Jerry was comparatively fresh when the settlement was reached late in the afternoon.
Kingman was a straggling bit of a place on the Canadian Pacific Railroad. The inhabitants were bluff, honest folk, and Mowry happily knew most of them. He accepted the proffered hospitality of the station agent for himself and companion.
The news quickly spread through the village, and by the next morning a party of armed men were ready to start for the cabin in the swamp. Jerry reluctantly consented to stay behind. He had to admit that he was not in fit condition to make the long tramp.
“Thar’s one thing you’d better do while we’re gone,” said Mowry. “Telegraph to this here lawyer in New York ter have Silas Raikes arrested. It may save a heap of trouble.”
The station agent favored this suggestion. But, unluckily, Jerry had forgotten the name and address. He finally concluded that the former was Glenwood. So, while Mowry and his companions were heading northward through the woods, a message sped southward over the wires, addressed simply, “Mr. Glenwood, New York.”
It read as follows:
“Don’t make any deal with the man from Maine who demands $15,000. Have him arrested at once. Particulars later. Answer.”
The name of the station agent was attached. But noon brought no answer; nor yet evening. A second message was dispatched, and a third at midnight.
Morning came, and still there was no reply.
Jerry waited impatiently about the telegraph tower at the station. Then he went to dinner. As he and the agent were rising from the table, the operator arrived with a yellow paper. It contained the following reply from New York:
“Can’t find the man. Lots of Glenwoods in the city. No lawyers of that name.”
CHAPTER XXXII.JERRY’S JOURNEY.
The agent was satisfied that a mistake had been made in the name, and Jerry was of the same opinion.
While they were discussing what had better be done, Mowry unexpectedly entered the house. He looked thoroughly fatigued and worn out. In a few words he told his story of failure. They had found the cabin deserted. The rest of the party were scouring the neighborhood. Then the trapper had started back at once.
“Somethin’ hes scairt the rascals,” he declared, “an’ so they pulled out fur a safer hidin’-place. But I reckon the men will find ’em sooner or later. I thought I’d slip back with the news. How about the lawyer chap in New York? Did you git an answer?”
The telegram was read to him, and he scratched his head in a puzzled way.
“I don’t put no faith in these pesky things,” he said. “That there fifteen thousand dollars must be kept out of the hands of these derned rascals. I reckon thar’s time enough. It would take about a week fur the lawyer chap to make terms with Raikes, an’ get word across the ocean an’ back. I’ll bet Raikes is down thar in the city waitin’.”
“Very likely,” assented the agent. “If we had the lawyer’s right name we could soon reach him.”
“I don’t believe it,” exclaimed the trapper, in a scornful tone. “Telegraphin’ ain’t no account. Lad, you must go to New York by the fust train. I’ll foot the bills.”
“Me?” gasped Jerry. He could scarcely believe that he had heard aright.
“Sartin,” resumed Mowry. “You’re a bright lad, an’ I reckon you’ll know what to do. Go to this man Larkin’s house, or to his place of business. Some one will tell you where to find the lawyer.”
“Or you might get a city directory,” suggested the agent, who evidently favored the plan, “and look over the names that are like Glenwood.”
“Yes; and one of those is a good plan,” replied Jerry. “I’m willing to go, and I think I will succeed.”
“Thar ain’t no doubt about it,” declared the trapper. “You’re an extry bright lad, from what I’ve seed of you. An’, bein’ brought up in Bangor, I reckon New York won’t scare you. It’s a leetle bigger town, from what I’ve heard.”
Jerry and the agent smiled at each other.
“You must telegraph back what luck you have,” Mowry went on. “An’ when you’ve fixed things an’ hed Raikes arrested, you an’ the lawyer chap hed better come up here by the first train.”
“Unless the boys are rescued in the meantime,” added the agent. “We can let you know about that by wire. It’s barely possible that Raikes is on his way back, so I will have all the stations in this vicinity watched.”
“That’s a good idee,” approved the trapper. “He’ll likely come right to Kingman, since this is the nearestpoint to the cabin. While the lad’s in New York I’ll go up country ag’in, an’ see how them fellers are makin’ out with their hunt.”
After a further discussion of a few minutes, the matter was definitely settled. The agent brought his knowledge of the different railway lines into practical use, and the trapper produced the sum of fifty dollars from a dirty buckskin belt.
“That oughter last you, lad,” he said. “I reckon the lawyer chap will pay me back one o’ these days.”
There was a train westward at two o’clock that afternoon, and when it steamed away from the Kingman station Jerry was among its passengers. He waved his hand at Mowry and the agent as long as he could see them.
Then the boy settled down in the seat, and tried to realize the wonderful thing that had happened to him. He was actually on the way to New York—the great city that Brick had described in such glowing terms. Already the past seemed but a shadowy dream. Had he actually lived through those stirring adventures in the Maine woods?
By degrees his mind grew more composed, and he settled his thoughts on the object of his journey. He was quickly roused by the arrival of the train at Mattawamkeag. Here he purchased a ticket to Bangor, and made connection with another train on the Maine Central Railway.
Jerry reached Bangor at five o’clock. There was no time to stop and see his parents, for a southward-bound train was ready.
The long journey came to an end at last. It was nearly midday when the train rolled into the Grand Central depot at Forty-second street. Jerry got out and followed the jostling crowd to the street.
Jerry stood for five minutes, not knowing which way to turn or of whom to ask information. Passersby jostled him roughly, and a policeman made a warning gesture with his club. This frightened Jerry. He was about to retreat to the shelter of the depot, when a tall, well-dressed lad, with a handsome, refined face, suddenly caught him by the arm.
“By Jove! is this really you?” he exclaimed, joyfully.
Jerry looked up.
“Tom Fordham!” he gasped.
The other laughed.
“That’s who it is. I’m glad you knew me. I recognized you right away. I’m most awfully glad to see you, Jerry. But what under the sun brought you here? Hold on; come into the station. We can talk there.”
He led the way to a comparatively quiet spot, and Jerry, nothing loath, poured out the whole story. Never was there a more surprised lad than Tom.
“I can’t get over it,” he exclaimed. “The idea of Brick getting into such a scrape. But we’ll get him out, Jerry. It’s awfully lucky that I met you. I was going up to Yonkers to see a fellow, but I’ll drop that now. You see, it’s holiday time, and college don’t keep. I thought Brick would get you fellows to go into the woods with him. He promised to write to me, but he never did it. His running away made a big sensation. At first hisguardian was mad about the money, and then he got worried, and——”
“You don’t mean to say that Brick ran away?” asked Jerry.
“Oh! didn’t you know it?” exclaimed Tom, in surprise. “I don’t suppose I ought to have said anything about it, then. But come on. I’ll take you downtown. Mr. Glendale is at dinner now. We’ll go to his office later on.”
So the two lads sallied out from the depot. What followed was like a fleeting panorama to Jerry, but it was a very dazzling and fascinating one.
At length, after a ride on the elevated road, they reached the City Hall. Through narrow Nassau street they walked, and then through to Broadway. Tom led his companion into a great stone building, many stories high.
The rode half-way to the top in an elevator. When it stopped, they got out and traversed a long corridor. At the further end was a glass door, and on this Jerry read:
“FREDERICK GLENDALE,“Law Offices.”
Tom entered boldly, and Jerry followed.
The sole occupant of the front room was a young man who was bending over a typewriter.
“Hullo, Martin,” said Tom. “Mr. Glendale here?”
“No; he left town yesterday morning.”
“Do you know where he went?”
“Somewhere up north, I think,” replied the clerk. “It’s private business. That’s all he said to me.”
“Can you tell me if there has been a fellow named Raikes here to see him this week?” Tom went on, eagerly.
“Yes; pretty nearly every day. His last visit was yesterday morning. I think he has something to do with Mr. Glendale’s journey. Can I do anything for you, Mr. Fordham?”
“Nothing,” said Tom. “Much obliged, Martin.”
He beckoned to Jerry, and they left the room. They did not speak until they were out on Broadway.
“Just a few hours too late,” exclaimed Tom. “But we’ll save the money yet. Now for the telegraph office. You must send a dispatch to Kingman. Then we’ll catch the first express train to Bangor. I’m going up there with you to help get Brick out of the scrape.”
CHAPTER XXXIII.A TREACHEROUS PLOT.
In the Rock House one day was just like another. The time dragged slowly by. It was a period of indescribable misery and monotony to Brick and Hamp. When they were able to forget Jerry’s fate they were tormented by fear for their own.
Nearly a week passed. Then, at sunset on a Wednesday evening, Raikes returned. Bogle, Sparwick, and the boys were squatted on the ground about the fire, eating supper.
Raikes responded to their greeting, and sat down beside them. His face told nothing, but there was a subdued twinkle of satisfaction in his eyes.
“Fill my plate, Sparwick,” he said, “and give me a cup of coffee. I’m hungry as a bear.”
“How far have you come?” asked Bogle.
“From Wytopitlock,” was the reply. “It’s a little station on the Canadian Pacific, a few miles east of Kingman.”
Brick was unable to hold in any longer.
“Is it all right?” he exclaimed, eagerly. “Have you got the money? Are you going to let us go now?”
Raikes did not reply. Instead, a bewildered look flashed across his face. He had just discovered Jerry’s absence.
“Where is the other lad?” he asked. “I hope you haven’t let him get away.”
Bogle briefly told the sad story. Raikes was visibly affected.
“I’m sorry it happened,” he said. “I didn’t want any bloodshed to be mixed up in this affair. Still, it was an accident, and the lad was to blame himself. We’ll have to explain to Glendale that he escaped, and could not be found. You see, I told him that we had three prisoners to turn over instead of one.”
“Then you have really made a success of your errand, Silas?” asked Bogle.
Raikes smiled as he took a deep draught of coffee, and attacked the food on his plate.
“I couldn’t have done better,” he replied. “Everything is fixed, and there is no danger of a slip. It took two or three days’ work to bring Glendale to terms. He was pugnacious at first, and used some pretty rough language—talked about the police, and all that sort of thing. I told him to go ahead, and he saw that I couldn’t be bluffed or scared off. After I convinced him that the lad’s life depended on the payment of the money he came down gracefully.”
“Did he cable to France?” asked Bogle.
“No; it wasn’t necessary. He had money at his disposal, and he didn’t want to alarm the lad’s parents. The long and short of it is that Mr. Frederick Glendale is now quartered at a tavern in Wytopitlock, and he has with him the sum of fifteen thousand dollars in banknotes.”
Sparwlck and Bogle fairly gasped for breath. Theireyes and flushed faces showed how excited they were.
“Five thousand apiece!” muttered Sparwick. “It’s a fortune.”
“What arrangements have you made for the transfer?” asked Bogle.
“We’re to meet on Friday evening, three miles this side of Wytopitlock,” replied Raikes. “Do you remember that big rock in Path Valley? It stands just where the stream comes tumbling down the mountain side.”
“Yes, I know the place.”
“Well, that’s where we’ll pocket the money and turn over the prisoners,” said Raikes. “This is Wednesday. I’ll spend the night here, and go back in the morning. You needn’t start until early on Friday morning. You must be at the rock as near sunset as possible that evening. I’ll have Glendale there in plenty of time.”
“And Sparwick and I will do the same with the boys,” replied Bogle. “The way you put this thing through does you lots of credit, Silas. We’ll be well paid for all our trouble.”
“It was cleverly managed, if I do say it myself,” answered Raikes, as he went on with his supper.
By this time the boys were through. Their arms were tied, and they were ordered over to the bed. They crouched close together on the pine boughs, and discussed, in low tones, what they had just heard.
“It’s not the loss of all that money that worries me,” said Brick. “I’m thinking about poor Jerry. Don’t forget that we swore to have the murderers punished—if it takes a lifetime.”
“I won’t,” replied Hamp, in a husky tone. “We’ll begin just as soon as we are free.”
Finally the boys fell asleep. The three men sat about the fire, talking and smoking, until nearly midnight. Then they put fresh logs on the blaze, and went to bed. Bogle and Sparwick stretched themselves on one side of the boys, Raikes on the other. In a short time all were apparently sound asleep.
But Raikes was merely feigning slumber. From time to time his eyes opened, and shot a stealthy glance about the cave. At the end of an hour he sat cautiously up. He bent over the boys, and looked into Sparwick’s face. The latter was certainly sound asleep. His eyes were closed, and his breath came deep and regular.
Raikes did not relax his scrutiny for nearly five minutes. Then he was satisfied beyond a doubt. He now bent in the other direction, and softly touched Bogle’s face.
“Are you awake, Joe?” he whispered.
“Yes,” was the reply. “I’ve been keeping awake on purpose. I thought you had something to tell me.”
“Well, I have. I didn’t get a chance all evening. I’ve got to be brief, so pay close attention.”
“Hold on,” whispered Bogle. “Is Sparwick sound asleep?”
“Sound as a rock,” assured Raikes.
“Then, let’s creep over to the fireplace, and talk there,” added Bogle.
“No; he might get awake, and find us gone. Then he would be sure to suspect something.”
“All right,” assented Bogle. “Go ahead. I’m listening.”
Raikes took another look at Sparwick and at the boys. Then he drew a tiny glass vial from his pocket, and slipped it into Bogle’s hand.
“Take good care of it,” he whispered, “and put it in a safe place.”
“What is it?” asked Bogle.
“Chloroform,” Raikes whispered. “I’ll tell you how to use it. Some time to-morrow night wet a rag, and press it on Sparwick’s face while he is sleeping. Then bind him tightly, and put a gag in his mouth. At daybreak start for the meeting place with the boys. You can easily manage them if you keep their arms tied. Glendale and I will be waiting. You and I will share the fifteen thousand dollars, and strike for a safe part of the country.”
“Splendid!” whispered Bogle. “You’re a born schemer, Silas. I thought you would find some way to outwit this greedy fool. But shall I leave him here to die of starvation?”
“We’ll let Glendale or the boys send a party to rescue him,” replied Raikes. “And as likely as not he’ll spend the next two or three years of his life in jail. That’s enough now. It’s not safe to talk any longer. Do you understand?”
“Perfectly,” whispered Bogle. “You may look for me and the lads at sunset.”
This ended the conversation. Raikes lay down, and pulled the blankets over him. Not a sound could be heard but the steady breathing of the sleepers.
Had the fire been burning brightly it might have been seen that Sparwick’s eyes were open. There was a devilish smile of mingled anger and triumph on his face. Under the blankets he savagely clinched his fists.
“It’s a good thing I was listening,” he said to himself. “A mighty good thing. I reckon I’ll be ready fur these sneakin’ liars.”
He involuntarily gave a low chuckle as some pleasing thought entered his mind. This scared him. He listened for a moment. Then he closed his eyes, and began to snore.
The three men were up at the first streak of dawn on Thursday morning. After a hastily-prepared breakfast Raikes said good-by to his companions; and started for Wytopitlock.
An hour later the boys were roused and fed. If the previous days had seemed long, this one was ten times longer. Bogle and Sparwick looked forward to evening just as impatiently as the boys. They passed the time in smoking and talking, and appeared to be on the best of terms. Dinner time came, and the long afternoon dwindled slowly by.
After supper the evening seemed comparatively short. At ten o’clock all were in bed. Bogle did not chain himself to Brick, as he had always done heretofore. He allowed the lad’s arms to remain tied behind his back.
“I need a good rest to-night,” he explained to Sparwick, “and I won’t get it with that confounded bracelet on my wrist.”
“I reckon the lad’s safe enough,” muttered Sparwick, in a drowsy tone. He seemed to be half-asleep already.
Bogle stretched himself on the opposite side of the bed, so that the boys were between the two. He made no effort to keep awake, since he did not intend to carry out his instructions until toward morning. He dropped off to sleep in a very contented frame of mind. He straightway dreamed that the half of fifteen thousand dollars was already in his possession, and that he was enjoying life in a great city.
In the midst of his revels he awoke, and opened his eyes. For a moment he did not remember where he was. The embers of the fire shed a dim light, and showed him a man bending over him. He felt a strange hand groping in his pocket.
Then the situation suddenly flashed upon him. He recognized Kyle Sparwick, and knew intuitively that he must have heard the conversation on the previous night. Now he was seeking the vial of chloroform.
With a husky cry, Bogle pushed his enemy aside, and sprang to his feet.
CHAPTER XXXIV.A VIAL OF CHLOROFORM.
Kyle Sparwick was taken quite by surprise. His back intercepted the light from the fireplace, and consequently he did not notice that Bogle’s eyes were open until it was too late.
He rushed blindly at Bogle, and received a stinging blow between the eyes. With an angry yell he rolled over against Hamp.
Both lads were instantly wakened, and, not knowing What was the matter, they cried out with fright.
Meanwhile, Bogle had rushed across the cave in quest of a weapon. The firelight showed him reaching for the bunch of rifles that rested on a stone slab on the opposite wall.
Sparwick arose, and in half-a-dozen leaps crossed the floor. Just in time Bogle got hold of a rifle. He was too excited by the thought of what was at stake to take careful aim. He hastily leveled the weapon, and pulled the trigger.
Bang!
The ball whizzed by Sparwick’s head, and flattened harmlessly on the wall above the boys.
There was no chance for a second shot. With a shrill cry Bogle swung the weapon around in a half-circle.Sparwick instantly broke through the other’s guard. Then came a volley of crashing blows.
The cause of the fight was a mystery to the boys. They looked on with a certain show of indifference. The struggle could not well affect them or their fortunes, no matter how it terminated.
“Bogle has no chance at all,” whispered Brick. “Sparwick is as strong as a giant.”
“He knows how to wrestle, though,” replied Hamp. “I shouldn’t be a bit surprised if—— Hullo! there they go.”
Yes; the men were down, and Bogle was actually on top. But his triumph was short lived. By a single twist Sparwick jammed his enemy against the floor. Then he pinned him helplessly by the throat with one hand, while with the other he brutally rained blow after blow on his face.
Brick and Hamp felt their blood boil with indignation. Had their arms been free, they would have gone to the unfortunate man’s rescue—rascal though he was.
But Sparwick had no intention of doing murder. His spasm of rage spent itself, and he let his right arm drop.
“I won’t kill you, you sneakin’ cur,” he hissed, “though if there was ever a traitor as desarved death it’s you, Joe Bogle. I wish I had Raikes here ter give him some o’ the same medicine. You didn’t count on me bein’ awake last night, but all ther same I was. I reckon I’ll hev to go shares with Raikes, since he’s still got the upper hand, so to speak. But you won’t touch a cent of that money—not a red.”
Bogle turned his bleeding and battered face upward.“You’ve done enough, Sparwick,” he whined. “Let up on me, and call it square. You needn’t be afraid of any more treachery. We’ll take the boys down to the meeting-place, and you will get your five thousand dollars.”
“Not a bit of it,” exclaimed Sparwick, with a harsh laugh. “I reckon I kin take the boys there alone. An’ as fur the money—why, I’m goin’ ter have a clean half, an’ mebbe more. It all depends on what sort of a drop I kin git on Raikes. Lie still, now.”
He thrust his hand into Bogle’s pockets, one by one. The prostrate villain struggled hard to prevent the search. His vain pleadings changed to bitter curses.
Sparwick was impervious to both. He went calmly on with his task. He uttered a triumphant chuckle as he drew out the longed-for vial. He quickly uncorked it, and poured the contents generously on his bandanna handkerchief.
Bogle struggled and howled, all in vain. As the deadly cloth was pressed over his nose and mouth he became quiet. His limbs relaxed, and his eyes closed. He lay like a corpse.
With a grunt of satisfaction Sparwick rose to his feet and stretched himself. Then he walked over to the sleds, which were piled at one side of the bed.
“I was justified in that thar,” he said, turning to the boys. “The mean cur hed it all fixed ter treat me the same way. You needn’t be afeared he’s dead. It’s only chloroform.”
Brick and Hamp watched Sparwick place the vial and the saturated handkerchief carefully on the floor at thefoot of the bed. Then he took a knife from his pocket, and cut two pieces of rope from one of the sleds. This done, he negligently dropped the knife and returned to his victim.
He tightly bound Bogle’s legs together. Then he set to work on his arms. His back was turned toward the boys, who were sitting up watching him.
Suddenly Brick gave a start. He had discovered that the cords on his wrists were coming loose. He fumbled for an instant, and managed to pull one hand through. His arms were now free.
He held them up in front of Hamp, and at the same time made a warning gesture of silence. Then he leaned softly over, and reached the knife.
Two noiseless strokes, and Hamp’s arms were free. Sparwick was still absorbed in his task. Brick now removed his shoes, and motioned to Hamp to do the same. He pointed to the handkerchief, and the vial.
“Are you with me?” he whispered in his companion’s ear. “It’s a great chance. We can sneak up from behind. It will only take a few seconds. We can hold him that long.”
Hamp nodded. Just then Sparwick rose to his feet.
“You lads better go to sleep,” he growled. “You’ve got a long tramp ahead of you ter-morrow.”
Then he returned to Bogle, and knelt over him in his old position. He had him securely bound, and now he was going to put a gag in his mouth.
Brick instantly leaned over, and captured the vial and the handkerchief. He resaturated the latter with whatchloroform was left. Then he and Hamp exchanged meaning glances. They had a splendid chance, for Sparwick’s back was turned toward them.
Then, in their stocking feet, they went swiftly and silently forward, side by side. Now they were right over their intended victim. Brick encircled Sparwick’s head with both hands, and pressed the handkerchief against his nostrils.
Taken forcibly and unawares, Sparwick toppled over on his side. He struggled hard for a few seconds, then the stupefying drug did its work, and he lay still, with quivering limbs.
Brick flung the handkerchief across the cave.
“Will they come to life again?” he asked, huskily.
“Of course,” replied Hamp. “Don’t worry. Chloroform never kills. But we must pull out of here right away. We’ll save that fifteen thousand, Brick, if we can only get back to civilization without being caught.”
“We’ll do our best,” replied Brick. “I can imagine Raikes and my guardian waiting for us to-morrow night.”
In great haste the boys put on their shoes, snowshoes and caps. Then they took one of the sleds and loaded it with as many of their traps as they could find. They were in such an excited and nervous frame of mind that they overlooked a most important matter. They failed to bind Sparwick. It never occurred to them that he might recover consciousness in a short time, and pursue them.
With a glance at the two ghastly forms lying in the firelight, the lads turned their backs on the Rock House,and scrambled down the hillside to the trough of the valley.
It was now about midnight, and they had not the slightest idea as to the points of the compass. Happily they discovered the faint trace of footprints—evidently made by Raikes. So they followed them in the reasonable belief that they would lead to the settlement of Wytopitlock. But half an hour later the trail seemed to melt away, and after a vain search for it the boys pushed on at random.