CHAPTER XXIII
SETTING THE TRAP
Just for an instant Ned Newton hesitated. It was a critical moment.
"Go on! Go on!" Tom Swift frantically yelled to his chum. "Don't stop now!"
"He may shoot!" objected Ned, who was in no position to assume the offensive, though both he and Tom were now armed.
"No, he won't!" Tom exclaimed. "He's only bluffing! A coward! Go on! I'm right with you!"
"Here goes then!" and Ned, ignoring the frantic shouts of Basil Cunningham, leaped from the window. It was a little higher up from the ground than he had thought and his fall rather jarred him. But he rolled over to be out of the way when Tom jumped.
The young inventor, after a glance back over his shoulder, which showed that Cunningham was without a visible weapon, leaped over the window sill and joined his chum below. Tom managed to keep his feet in his leap. In the old castle, and as he leaned out of the window, Cunningham continued to shout:
"The prisoners! They're escaping! Where are those confounded guards?"
The whole place was aroused now and other voices could be heard mingling with those of the Englishman in excited shouts. Evidently, those who had been present at the conference of which Tom and Ned had overheard so much, were now joining, or getting ready to join, the pursuit.
Lights flashed in many windows that had hitherto been in darkness. There was the sound of running feet and the clank of metal as though the guards were arming themselves with swords instead of rifles and automatic pistols.
Ned got to his feet, to find Tom at his side. The young inventor grasped his chum's arm, holding his automatic in his other hand, and gasped:
"Come on! Run for it! It's now or never!"
"But which way shall we run?" asked Ned. "I'm all turned around!"
It was no wonder. The night was dark and the weird ruin of a castle stood out in uncanny relief with lights in many windows. Tom and Ned had leaped from a window at the rear of the place, a view of the castle which they had never had before. So they were a bit confused.
"The main gate is around the other side!" panted Ned, as he ran on beside Tom.
"Never mind that. There must be a back way out, and I think it will be healthier for us to take that than the front way. They'll be sure to be laying for us there."
"Guess that's true!" muttered Ned.
The eyes of the escaped prisoners were now becoming accustomed to the darkness all about them, for they had come from comparatively well illuminated corridors into the pitch black night, and this is always confusing. They had a dim vision of a wall or a fence at the rear of the castle. It was probably a continuation of the fence in front, with its ornate and massive pillars, though the front gate was gone.
"If only the back gate is in the same condition we may be in luck," Tom remarked as they ran on.
They looked back for just a moment and saw several figures leap from the same window out of which they had jumped. Framed in the light, these pursuers were easily visible.
Suddenly there was a sliver of flame in the darkness at the rear of the castle. A sharp report followed and then the whine of a bullet over the heads of the two fugitives.
"Hot stuff, Tom!" muttered Ned.
"They mean business!" assented the young inventor. "But we've got an answer ready!"
He turned quickly and fired at random, purposely aiming over the top of a dark patch that seemed to be composed of smaller patches. That it was a group of bandits summoned by Cunningham, Tom did not doubt.
There was a momentary halt on the part of the pursuers at this evidence of preparedness on the part of the late prisoners. But another bullet came whining its vicious song over the heads of the two young men. When Ned would have turned and fired, Tom called:
"Save your cartridges! We may need 'em later! Isn't that a gate just ahead?"
He pointed to where the fence seemed to have a break in it.
"It's a gate, all right," Ned answered. "But closed."
"And with a man on guard!" added Tom, as they drew closer and saw a figure emerge from some bushes to confront them. That it was a guard was evident a moment later, for he stepped across the path to bar the progress of Tom and Ned and was bringing a rifle to the ready as he growled:
"Get back there! Nobody allowed out of this gate without the boss says so! Get back!"
"Get back yourself!" snarled Tom, and as he spoke he fired, but aiming over the guard's hat. So close was the bullet, though, that the fellow dropped his gun in mortal terror and yelled:
"I'm through!"
Away he sped in the darkness.
"The fates grant that he didn't take the keys with him!" murmured Tom, as he and Ned ran on toward the gates which they could make out more plainly now.
"It isn't likely they're locked if a man was on guard," suggested Ned, and so it proved. The rusty iron gates swung under the vigorous pushes of the two, and a moment later they found themselves out in the road, while behind them could be heard the confused shouts of their pursuers.
"Oh, for a car now!" cried Tom.
He and Ned were running down the road, not knowing and little caring in what direction, so long as they were leaving the castle and its bandits behind them. As they swung around a corner, where the road widened, Ned saw a deeper patch of blackness and, pointing to it, gave a cry of joy.
"What is it?" demanded Tom Swift.
"The House on Wheels!" yelled Ned.
A moment later the fugitives came to where their vehicle was parked beside the road. It was in darkness and there seemed to be no life about it. Hesitating only a moment, to make sure of this, Ned and Tom approached. In their hearts they were hoping that the machine would not be in the possession of the enemy.
It did not seem to be. They were not challenged as they leaped to the driver's seat, and in a moment Tom had switched on the lights.
"We're in luck, Ned!" he yelled, as a glance at the various gages showed that there was plenty of oil and gas. "Now if they haven't put it on the blink, well let them have a look at our tail light in about two seconds!"
The self-starter hummed. There was a responding roar from the powerful motor, and in another instant Tom Swift was heading his machine down the mountain at ever increasing speed.
There had been several days of dry weather following the storm, and the dust of the highway reflected the headlights well so that driving was comparatively easy. The speed increased so that Ned called out:
"Aren't you hitting it up pretty fast, Tom?"
"Got to!" was the grim answer. "They're coming after us! Listen!"
He slowed for a second, silencing his engine a bit, and from behind came the roaring exhaust of another car.
"They've got to go some to get me now!" exulted Tom. "We're on a down grade, and as soon as the motor warms up I'll show them what my House on Wheels can do!"
Faster and faster they sped down the winding road in the darkness. The hand on the speedometer went to 25 to 30, and then on past 35. When it got to 45 Ned looked at Tom and took a tighter grip of the seat rail.
"Will she stand it, Tom?" he asked.
"We'll soon find out!" was the laconic reply.
On toward 50 the hand was moving, and soon it had passed that figure. Then it was 55! Still Tom Swift did not take his foot off the accelerator.
"Whew!" whistled Ned. "She's doing better than sixty miles an hour, Tom!"
"That's nothing—downhill!" was the response. But 60 seemed enough, and at that speed—terrific when the size of the machine was considered—Tom held the road wonderfully well. There was no longer the sound of pursuit.
"I guess they saw our tail light and gave up!" chuckled Tom. "We're well out of that!"
"What's the next move?" Ned asked.
"Stop at the nearest place where there are police and give the alarm!" snapped Tom. "I'm not going to let Cunningham get away with the stuff he's trying to pull."
They went on for several miles at this high speed, and then, when faint dawn was rosily tinting the east, they came down off Dismal Mountain to a level road and, inquiring of a passing truckman, learned the location of the headquarters of the nearest State Police.
"So that's the secret of Dismal Mountain, is it?" asked a rather sleepy sergeant who had been on duty all night. Tom and Ned had gasped out their story, touching only the high spots of their capture and escape. "Road agents, train robbers, and bandits hanging out in the castle, eh?" went on the officer.
"Will you look after 'em?" asked Tom, leaving the station to get into his House on Wheels again.
"I sure will, Mr. Swift. And thanks a lot for the tip. I'll spread a net for these scoundrels. Dismal Mountain is going to lose its secret and its mystery. Luckily, there aren't many roads leading down from it. I'll have every one covered. Those fellows will walk right into my trap, and those that don't come down—well, we'll go up and get 'em!" he finished, with a grim laugh.
He hurried inside to send out a general alarm and Tom kept on toward the House on Wheels.
"Where to now?" asked Ned.
"To Chesterport," Tom answered. But there was no enthusiasm in his voice. Ned could guess why. The gossip Tom had heard about Mary Nestor and Floyd Barton was eating at his heart like a canker.
The sun was scarcely above the horizon when Tom and Ned, leaving to the State Police the work of rounding up the bandits in Cunningham's gang, rolled in the House on Wheels up in front of the Winthrop home. There was no stopping now blocks away for fear of wounding the social sensibilities of Mrs. Winthrop.