Dick Merriwell Abroad; Or, The Ban of the Terrible Ten (2024)

E-text prepared by Roger Frank
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
(http://www.pgdp.net)

OR

THE BAN OF THE TERRIBLE TEN

By

BURT L. STANDISH

Author of the celebrated “Merriwell” stories, which are
the favorite reading of over half a million up-to-date
American boys. Catalogue sent free upon request.

STREET & SMITH, PUBLISHERS

79-89 SEVENTH AVE., NEW YORK CITY

Copyright, 1904 and 1905

By STREET & SMITH

Dick Merriwell Abroad

All rights reserved, including that of translation
into foreign languages, including the Scandinavian.

DICK MERRIWELL ABROAD.

CHAPTER I.—THE STORY OF QUEEN MARY.

“Well, here we are, boys, in Scotland, the land of feuds, of clans, ofWallace, Bruce, Scott, Burns, and of limitless thrilling stories andlegends.”

Professor Zenas Gunn was the speaker. With Dick Merriwell and BradBuckhart, Merriwell’s friend and former roommate at the Fardale MilitaryAcademy, as his traveling companions, he had landed at Leith theprevious day, having come by steamer from London. The three were now inEdinburgh, strolling down High Street on their way to visit HolyroodCastle.

It was nipping cold. There had been a light fall of snow; but the sunwas shining, and the clear air, in strong contrast to the heavy, smokyatmosphere of London, gave them a feeling of lightness and exhilaration.

Perhaps it is not quite true to say it gave them all such a feeling, forthere was an expression of disappointment on the face of the boy fromTexas, a slight cloud of gloom that nothing seemed to dispel.

The old professor, however, was in high spirits.

“While we’re here, boys,” he said, “we’ll visit as many of theinteresting places as possible. Already we have seen Scott’s monument,and to-morrow we will make an excursion to Melrose, and visit MelroseAbbey and Abbotsford. Later on, perhaps, we’ll run over to Loch Lomondand see Rob Roy’s prison and the cottage where Helen MacGregor, RobRoy’s wife, was born. At Stirling we’ll feast our eyes on the WallaceMonument, which stands on the spot where the great hero defeatedEngland’s army of invasion. Think what it will mean to stand on thefield of Bannockburn!

“The English army, my boys, numbered one hundred thousand, while theScots were less than forty thousand. But Scotland had not forgotten theterrible death of Wallace, who had been captured, carried to London,condemned to die, hanged, cut down while yet alive, to have portions ofhis body burned, and at last to be decapitated, his head being afterwardplaced on a pole on London Bridge. The Scottish army of forty thousandwas led by the successor and avenger of Wallace, Robert Bruce, whoachieved the marvelous object of driving the invaders from the country,fighting on until nowhere did an English foot crush the heather ofScotland.

“Ah! boys, these tales of heroism are the things to stir one’s blood,and make him feel that he might do great, and noble, and heroic thingsshould the opportunity present itself. But in these prosaic, moderntimes men have little chance to become heroes. Now I feel that I, ZenasGunn—had I been given the opportunity—might have become a greatleader, a great hero, and my name might have lived in history. I’vealways regretted the fact that I was born too late to take part in anyof the great struggles for human liberty. I am naturally a fighter. Ithink that old rascal, Barnaby Gooch, found out that I possessed thecourage of a lion and the ability to fight like blazes. When we returnto Fardale, boys, he’ll find out something else, I promise you that.Yes, sir, he’ll find out that he’s not the whole thing at that academy.”

“I hope so,” muttered Brad. “I certain hope he’ll get all that’s comingto him.”

“Leave it to me,” nodded Zenas. “I’ll attend to that in due time. In themeantime, boys, we’ll travel and enjoy the things we see while we areeducating ourselves at the same time. Ha! there is Holyrood Palace, oncethe home of that loveliest of women, Mary, Queen of Scots. And there isthe chapel in which she was married to Lord Darnley.”

The grim old castle stood before them, its turrets and towers risingagainst the bleak mountain background in impressive grandeur. There wassnow on the mountains, and this made the outlines of the castle standout sharply and distinctly.

“Stand here a few minutes boys,” invited the old professor. “Before weenter the castle, which will open to admit visitors at eleven o’clock,let’s brush up a little on the romantic and pathetic history of QueenMary. I’ve always taken the liveliest interest in the story of hercareer. You know that first she was married to Francis II. and lived inFrance. After Francis died she returned to Scotland where she wasimmediately surrounded by a throng of royal suitors. Out of them all sheselected that handsome, egotistical, vain, selfish young reprobate, LordDarnley, which was a frightful mistake, for in a short time he began totreat her with discourtesy and absolute brutality, drinking to excessand behaving in a manner that made him generally detested at court.”

“But I have read that Queen Mary transferred her affection to an Italianmusician named Rizzio,” said Dick.

“Hum! haw! Haw! hum!” coughed the professor. “A slander invented by thescheming noblemen about her who wished to rob her of her power in orderto advance their own selfish ends. It is doubtful if they made Darnleyhimself believe it, but they told him it would advance him, and he fellinto the trap.”

“But historians say Rizzio was very handsome.”

“Some do, and some say he was very plain and uncomely. It is impossibleto tell which story is true; but beyond doubt he was a splendid singer.It was his voice that first attracted Mary. One winter’s day, while atmass, she heard a rich, sonorous voice of great sweetness and powerringing through the aisles. In answer to her inquiries concerning thesinger, they told her it was Rizzio, private secretary to the ambassadorfrom Savoy. Mary’s taste in music was of the finest, and she becamegreatly interested. There is a famous painting by David Neil, whichshows the queen standing on the palace steps and regarding Rizzio, whohas fallen asleep, mandolin by his side, near at hand. In this picturehe is represented as being very handsome; but artists, like poets, takelicense with facts.”

“Is there any question as to the great friendliness that sprang upbetween them?” asked Dick.

“Oh, undoubtedly they became friends,” nodded Gunn; “and in thisfriendship the scheming noblemen who surrounded the queen saw theiropportunity. They did their best to arouse the jealousy of Darnley,filling his ears with lies. Darnley was still little more than a boy,and he easily became a tool in the hands of the schemers, who planned tomurder Rizzio in Mary’s presence, hoping perhaps that the terriblespectacle and the shock might kill her, which would leave Darnley inapparent power, but really powerless in the hands of the scoundrels whocontrolled him.”

“Fine business for the countrymen of Wallace and Bruce!” growledBuckhart.

“In those times the nobility seemed very corrupt, in Scotland, as wellas other countries. This band of reprobates carried out their bloodyplot. They hid in Mary’s bedroom, where they awaited their time. Marywas at supper with three friends in her library. One of the three wasRizzio. In the midst of it Darnley entered the room, took a seat besidethe queen, put his arm about her and gave her the kiss of Judas. Thenthe murderous plotters suddenly appeared in the room, their weaponsdrawn. Instantly Rizzio started up, his face growing ghastly, for heknew his hour had come. He appealed to Mary, who answered that the kingwould never permit him to be slain in her presence.

“But Darnley attempted to hold her, and one of the ruffians placed aloaded pistol at her breast, while the others fell on Rizzio. In despairthe doomed man caught at Mary’s dress, for he was unarmed and could notmake resistance. The assassins slashed at him with their gleamingweapons, and in the struggle the table with its dishes was overturned.Its lights were upset and extinguished, but some of the invaders hadbrought torches and by the flaring light the bloody work went on. AsRizzio’s clutch on Mary’s dress relaxed she fainted. He was then draggedout into a narrow passage, where he was stabbed until his shrieks becamehushed by death. They say the stain of his blood still remains on theoaken floor, and undoubtedly it will be pointed out to us to-day.”

“It’s a great thing, professor, to visit such spots,” said Dick. “I’llnever forget this bit of history after seeing and visiting the castlewhere it all took place.”

“The finest way in the world to learn history is to visit historicspots,” nodded the old pedagogue. “I suppose you both remember the restof Mary’s story. The dastardly noblemen made her their prisoner,carrying her to captivity in a grim old castle on Lochleven. She wasremoved in the night, placed on a horse and compelled to ride at fullgallop for several hours. When the castle prison was reached her brutalguards compelled her, under threat of death, to sign an abdication ofthe throne in favor of her son, at the same time naming one of theplotters, the Earl of Murray, regent, until the boy should come of age.Then she was left there, crushed and heartbroken.”

“But she escaped,” cried Dick.

“Yes, through the assistance of George Douglas, the son of her jailer,who had become so enamored of the sad and beautiful captive that heswore to save her, even though it cost him his life. One Sunday night asthe queen sat in her window, gazing out on the placid bosom of the lake,she saw a boat silently approaching. In the boat was Douglas and hisyounger brother, who contrived to get hold of the castle key while therest of the Douglas family were at supper. Without delay the daringyouths locked the family in and hastened to set Mary free, rowing heracross the lake and throwing the keys into the water.

“Mary assembled her followers, who hastened to flock to her support; butin a battle with the army of the regent, the Earl of Murray, shesuffered defeat and again became a fugitive. For some time she remainedhidden in Dundrennan Abbey, undecided what course to pursue. Some of herfriends advised her to flee to France, but she decided to trust to thesupposed friendship of her cousin, Elizabeth, Queen of England, and shefled across the English frontier. This was a fatal mistake, forElizabeth had been her constant foe, fearing her claim to the Englishthrone, and she was again cast into captivity. In the end she wasfalsely convicted of a conspiracy to assassinate Elizabeth, who waspersuaded to sign her death warrant. When she was led to the block herexecutioners fell on their knees and asked forgiveness for the duty theywere compelled to perform, which she freely gave, then entreated thewomen attending her not to weep, as she was glad to leave the world.Twenty years later her son was sovereign of both England and Scotland;and to-day the bodies of Mary and Elizabeth lie side by side beneath thesame cathedral roof.”

CHAPTER II.—THE MEETING AT THE CASTLE.

After having the romantic story of Queen Mary thus repeated for them bythe old professor, the boys felt a deeper interest in Holyrood Castle asthey wandered through its rooms. The guide showed them through theChapel Royal, which is a beautiful fragment of the ancient abbey,conducted them into the picture gallery and the tapestry apartment, gavethem a chance to inspect Lord Darnley’s rooms, and finally brought themto Queen Mary’s apartments, showing where the queen had supped on thatfatal night and pointing to dark stains on the floor of the narrowcorridor outside, which, in broadest Scotch, he soberly declared “weremade wi’ th’ blud o’ Rizzio himsel’.”

Throughout the inspection of the castle Dick was keenly interested, buthe noticed that Brad remained gloomy and downcast in appearance.

“What’s the matter, old man?” he finally exclaimed. “Why don’t you braceup and chase that thundercloud off your face?”

“I can’t,” answered the Texan. “I can’t help thinking something wronghas happened.”

“Something wrong? Why, you’re thinking of——”

“Nadia Budthorne and her brother,” confessed Brad, flushing somewhat.“You know they were to meet us at the hotel in Edinburgh, and they havenot done so.”

“Brad, you’ve been smitten on that girl ever since you first saw her onLondon Bridge. I didn’t think it of you, you husky son of the Lone StarState!”

“Now, don’t try to kid me, pard!” growled Buckhart. “You can’t say much,for if ever a fellow was badly smashed over a girl, you have beensmashed over June Arlington.”

“Oh, June and I are just good friends,” Dick hastened to say.

“Good friends, indeed!” mocked the Texan. “Right good friends, andthat’s no lie! You were such a mighty good friend to her that you gother sneaking brother back into school after he had been fired, with theresult that he put up a low-down job on you that caused you to beexpelled. If you try to guy me any at all about Nadia Budthorne you’llcertain hear a few remarks from yours truly concerning June Arlington.”

“Oh, well,” laughed Dick, “I admit you have me there, but how do youknow that Nadia cares anything for you?”

“I don’t know,” acknowledged Brad, “and I sure opine that’s what’skeeping me right well fussed up the most of the time. You know you weresurprised yourself when we struck Edinburgh, and failed to find theBudthornes at the hotel where they agreed to meet us.”

“They came by rail, and I suppose they have visited Glasgow and otherplaces on their way.”

“Pard, you know that any one who comes from London by rail wouldnaturally visit Edinburgh first. I tell you I have a feeling thatsomething is wrong. We lost track of Miguel Bunol, Heck Marsh, and LukeDurbin right away after the Budthornes left London, and I’m some afraidthat onery gang followed Nadia and her brother up here into Scotland. IfBunol could meet Dunbar Budthorne alone, and get a chance to talk withhim a few minutes, I reckon he’d get the fellow in his power again, foryou must allow, partner, that he exercises some sort of baleful powerover Budthorne.”

“I thought it possible we broke Bunol’s spell over Budthorne the nightwe proved to the latter that Bunol and the others had been fleecing himin a crooked manner at cards.”

“Temporarily we did, I judge; but you know Budthorne’s will power hasbeen some weakened by drink, and he might cave in to Bunol again if theSpaniard found him.”

“I don’t think there is any great cause for worry, Brad. I believe Nadiaand her brother will appear in good time.”

During this conversation the old professor had been talking with theguide. He now announced that he was ready to go, and soon the three wereleaving by the castle gate.

Just as they passed through the gate they came face to face with twopersons who were on the point of entering. They halted in surprise, forthey were Hector Marsh and a corpulent, vulgar-appearing man known asLuke Durbin.

A growl of rage came from the throat of Brad Buckhart, and he plantedhimself in front of Marsh and Durbin, his fists clinched and his wholeatmosphere breathing fight.

“Whatever are you two sneaking, onery, low-down coyotes doing here?” heroared, his rugged face dark as a storm cloud.

“My goodness! my goodness!” gasped Zenas Gunn, in great alarm. “Stophim, Richard, or he will attack them! We shall be arrested for making adisgraceful disturbance here!”

Dick caught Brad’s muscular arm in a grip of iron.

“Go slow, old man!” he said, in a low tone.

Neither Marsh nor Durbin acted as if the encounter had given them greatsurprise. Durbin was smoking a black, rank-smelling cigar, which herolled into the corner of his mouth, thrusting his pudgy hands deep intohis trousers pockets, and surveying the trio before him with an air ofinsolent contempt.

Marsh exposed his teeth in a sneering grin.

“Why, hello!” he said, in a voice like the croaking of a bullfrog. “Soyou people are here, eh? What are we doing? Well, I rather guess we havejust as good right to visit this old castle as you have.”

“Right,” said Durbin. “And he wants ter be careful about callin’ folksnames, or he’ll git his block knocked off. See!”

Dick felt Brad’s arm quiver and the muscles tighten.

“I’d certain enjoy it a heap if either of you varmints would try toknock my block off!” exclaimed the Texan. “I’d enjoy it if you bothtried the trick! Just break loose and sail right into me. I’ll stampedeover you red-hot and a-whooping, as sure as I’m the Unbranded Maverickof the Rio Pecos!”

“You’re just as big a blower as ever,” said Marsh. “Why don’t you cutout that hot air and learn decency in your talk.”

“Learn decency! Whoop! Would I learn it any of you? Why, you crawlingcur, you haven’t one decent bone in your body!”

“Stop him—Dick, do stop him!” gasped the professor. “He’ll get us intoa broil!”

Dick’s good judgment told him that it was better to avoid an encounterat that time and place, and, therefore, he spoke a few words toBuckhart, seeking to quiet him.

“That’s right!” cried Marsh. “Better pull him away if you don’t want himhurt.”

“You’ll never harm any one,” said Dick, remembering Hector’s naturalcowardice. “I don’t wish him to soil his hands on you, that’s all.”

“If the hot-air merchant wants ter fight,” said Durbin, “why don’t yougive him all he’s lookin’ fer, Heck? We’ll jest step aside somewhere an’you can knock the stuffin’ outer him. I’ll see that his frien’s don’tinterfere.”

Marsh turned pale at the thought. He had not the slightest desire tomeet Bradley Buckhart in a square fight, man to man.

“Oh, no!” he quickly said. “The fellow talks fight, but it’s all talk.”

“It is, eh?” cried Buckhart, attempting to free himself from Dick’sclutch and stride forward, a furious gleam in his eyes.

Suddenly the bold front Marsh had assumed disappeared. KnowingMerriwell’s disinclination to engage in a personal encounter unlessforced to do so, and counting on the pacifying influence of ProfessorGunn, the fellow had assumed an air of bravery that was entirelyfictitious. Thinking the Texan might get free and come at him, he nowdodged behind Durbin, crying:

“Keep your distance! I’ll have the law on you if you touch me! I canprove that we were going about our business when you stopped us.”

Buckhart paused in disgust, muttering:

“I might have known it! I didn’t stop to think what a coward he was atschool.”

Durbin showed disappointment.

“Here, what are you dodging for?” he snapped. “You’ve tol’ me fiftytimes that that fellow was nuttin’ but a bag of wind, and that you couldknock the tar outer him in a minute.”

“So I can—if I want to,” said Heck. “But I don’t want—at least, nothere. There’s plenty of time. I’ll see him again. I’ll fix him allright.”

“Come along, Brad,” urged Dick. “Here come some other visitors from thecastle. Don’t let them see you wasting words on such a worthless andcowardly scamp.”

Professor Gunn also took hold of the Texan and urged him to move away.

“It is the regret of my life,” said the old pedagogue, “that while thefellow was in school I did not sooner learn his true character. I amsorry he was permitted to remain there so long to contaminate otherboys.”

“Bah, you old fossil!” croaked Marsh. “You’re an old back-number anyhow,and you’re not fit to teach a monkey school. Why don’t you go die andget yourself buried out of the way! You’d never be missed.”

“Outrageous—outrageous!” gasped Zenas, shaking his cane at theinsulting chap. “I’d like to break this stick over your back, youscamp!”

“You never will, old lobster. If you should try it I’d give you a punchin the bread basket that would unhinge you.”

“Are you going to remain here longer and give him further opportunity toinsult me, Bradley!” demanded Gunn.

“I’ll go,” said Buckhart, cooling down a little. “Dick is right abouthim. He is a pitiful coward, and any one who touches him will simplysoil his hands.”

As they walked away Marsh continued to shout taunts and insults untilthey were quite out of hearing.

“Now what do you think about it, partner?” asked Buckhart, as theyretraced their way into the city.

“About what?” asked Dick.

“About the possibility that there is something wrong, and that is whyNadia and her brother failed to meet us here. Marsh and Durbin are here,and you can bet your sweet life Bunol is not far away. They followed theBudthornes.”

“It may be that you are right.”

“I’m plumb certain of it. That gang has not given up the hope of againgetting hold of Dunbar Budthorne and squeezing money out of him. Butwhat worries me most is the fact that Bunol has an infamous scheme toforce Nadia into marriage with him. Just think of it! That sweetest ofgirls married to a snake like Mig Bunol! It’s enough to make a chapcrazy!”

“He’ll never succeed in that, don’t worry, Brad. She knows him, and shedespises him quite as much as we do.”

“But they may make her a right good lot of trouble.”

“The fact that those fellows are here in Edinburgh would seem toindicate that the Budthornes must be in the city. Perhaps there was somemistake about the hotel where we are to meet them. We must search forthem, Brad.”

“That’s the stuff, pard; we’ll turn this old city over, but we’ll findthem.”

“Dear me!” said Professor Gunn. “I hope there will be no serioustrouble. I do hope we’ll not get into a fight of any sort with thoseruffians.”

“But, professor,” smiled Dick, “a short time ago, as you were recallingthe fact that we are in the land of Wallace and Bruce, you said you knewthere was good fighting stuff in you and you lamented greatly becauseyou had never been given an opportunity to demonstrate what a hero youreally are. It is possible you may have an opportunity while we are inScotland. Who knows? I seem to scent fighting in the crisp air here.”

“Goodness knows that’s not the sort of fighting I meant! I could shed myblood joyfully for my country, or something like that; but fighting ofany other sort is low and degrading and I abhor it—I abhor it.”

Upon arriving at their hotel they found a letter there, addressed toDick.

“A lady’s writing,” said Merriwell, in surprise. “Who can it be?”

He tore the envelope open. A moment later he uttered an exclamation,calling Brad and the professor to read it. This was all the lettercontained:

“Dear Mr. Merriwell: We—my brother and myself—are stoppingat Ben Cleuch Inn, which is near Kinross on Lochleven. LeftEdinburgh suddenly because I saw Miguel Bunol there, and Ibelieve he had followed us. This will explain why we failedto meet you as agreed. Hope you and your friends may be ableto join us at Lochleven. We desire very much to see you again,if only to thank you for all your kindnesses to us. My brotheris pretty well, although quite nervous. Your grateful friend,

“Nadia Budthorne.”

On first reading this brief communication Buckhart looked relieved anddelighted, but in a few minutes the shadow returned to his face, and itseemed deeper than ever. Dick noted this and questioned him as to thecause of it.

“Oh, nothing,” answered the Texan somewhat gruffly.

“But it is something. I thought you would be pleased to hear fromNadia?”

“I am.”

“You look it!” said Merriwell sarcastically. “Here you have beenworrying because she did not meet us, and now that you know where she isyou put on a face like a funeral.”

“It’s all right,” muttered Brad, failing to meet his companion’s eye.“It’s all right! I don’t care!”

“What’s all right? What is it you don’t care about?”

“She didn’t have to write to me! She had a right to address the letterto you if she wished.”

Suddenly the truth dawned on Dick; Brad was hurt because Nadia had notaddressed the letter to him.

“Well, you’re the limit for silliness!” Dick exclaimed.

“Perhaps I am,” grated Brad. “I can’t help it. I know I’m no prizebeauty. I know that beside you I’m a half-finished shine. It’s allright! Of course, all the girls are bound to get struck on you. Theycan’t help it. But you’ve got girls enough!” he added, in resentfulrebellion. “To say nothing of June Arlington, there is Doris Templetonand——”

Dick put an arm round his friend and laughingly checked him.

“Don’t be such an ass, old man!” he entreated. “Nadia Budthorne is abeautiful girl, but I’m not struck on her, and——”

“She is on you!”

“I don’t believe it.”

“Then explain some why she sent that letter to you. Why didn’t sheaddress it to me or to the professor?”

“It just happened that way. You know I disguised myself as old Mr.Allsquint and in that manner exposed Bunol and his gang, and I supposethat is why——”

“Perhaps so,” admitted the Texan suddenly. “I reckon I am an ass, pard!I always was, and it’s becoming more and more natural for me. Of courseyou can’t be to blame if Nadia took a liking to you. Why shouldn’t shelike you more than me? You’re the best chap in the world, and I’m just avery common and a very ordinary chump, without any particular polish andwithout any pretense to good looks.”

“Brad,” said Dick earnestly, “you are one of the truest, finest, noblestfellows alive. Any one who comes to know you well can’t help liking you;and as for good looks—well, you bear the stamp of a man on your face,and therefore in the very best sense you are handsome. Stop runningyourself down. What shall we do? Shall we light out of Edinburgh andmake for Kinross and Lochleven to-day?”

“Instanter!” exclaimed the Texan eagerly. “Let’s not lose an hour,pard!”

CHAPTER III.—AT BEN CLEUCH INN.

The Ben Cleuch Inn at Lochleven was kept by the Widow Myles, a plain,kind, motherly soul, the best part of whose life lay behind her.

The inn stood by the highway that wound close along the shore of thewooded lake, about a mile from Kinross.

In summers, visitors to Lochleven desirous of seeing Queen Mary’s islandprison often patronized the little inn, and the widow thus derivedrevenue enough to keep her in frugal comfort through the long winters.

In November the strangers were few and far between, and glad the widowwas when one dropped in for a meal or a night’s lodging. Doubly glad wasshe when two strangers, a young man and a beautiful girl of sixteen,came in a carriage to her door and bargained with her for rooms andboard for several days, saying they expected to remain three days, andmight, if they liked it, stay a great deal longer.

The landlady did her very best to please them, for they did not ask herto make her price smaller when she named it, and they readily paid forthree days in advance. The girl, as Widow Myles could not help noticing,was very pretty, while the young man—her brother—looked pale andwearied and had about his face something indicative of weakness andirresolution. Indeed, he seemed on the verge of illness, and hepermitted his sister to do most of the business with the landlady.

On the afternoon of the third day after the arrival of these guestsanother stranger appeared and stopped at the inn. He came afoot and worea long, black cloak with a cape, while his wide-brimmed hat was pulledlow over his eyes. His complexion was dark, and on his upper lip therewas the shadowy outline of a new-born mustache.

Although the sun was shining without, there was snow on the ground andthe air was nipping cold, which led the stranger to hold out his handsto the warmth of the widow’s cheerful open fire, in the little sittingroom, having removed his gloves and placed them with his hat on thefloor at his side.

“It’s cauld to-day, sir,” said the widow. “Th’ sun i’ ower bright, butthe air ha’ a nippin’ in it.”

“Indeed it is cold, madam,” said the young stranger, in a pleasantvoice. “It is far too cold for comfort. It must be frightful up here inthe dead of winter.”

“Oh, it’s na sa bad—na sa bad,” protested the widow. “Wi’ a guide roofower one’s haid an’ a warm fire to sit near, th’ winter soon runs awa’.Ha’ ye come fa’?”

“Not very far,” was the answer. “To me it would be a great favor, mygood woman, if you could give me a drink of something warm to start myblood.”

“Tea?” suggested Widow Myles.

The visitor shook his head.

“I would prefer something warmer than that,” he said. “Have you anywhisky in the house?”

“I canna tell. I much doot i’ I ha’!”

“Because if you have,” said the stranger, jingling some money in hishand, “I’ll pay well for a stiff drink.”

“I may ha’ a wee drap,” confessed the landlady. “I sometime’ ha’ it farme’cine.”

“It is for medicine I need it now, so if you will hasten, madam, youneed but to name your price.”

The widow disappeared. After about ten minutes she reappeared with hotwater, whisky and sugar, at sight of which the face of the strangershowed his satisfaction. Deftly and with loss of little time thestranger mixed his drink, tasted it, smacked his lips over it and thenasked the widow to name her price.

She declined to state a price, whereupon he placed two pieces of moneyin her hand, and when she saw their value she showered him with thanksand called down blessings on his head.

In this manner the stranger placed himself right with the widow, whom heengaged in further conversation as he stretched his booted feet to thefire and sipped his steaming drink.

“At this season I presume few are the visitors who come here to stop?”he questioned.

“Few ye ma’ weel say,” she nodded.

“Is your house empty at the present time?”

“Na, na! not quite sa bad as that.”

“Then you have some guests?”

“I ha’ twa.”

“Two? How long have they been with you, madam?”

“They came three days gone, sir.”

“And is it long you expect them to remain?”

“As to that I canna tell. When they came they said it might be they wudstay three days or more; but it is now the third day an’ they have naspoke of leavin’.”

“I hope my curiosity you will pardon, but it seems strange any oneshould come here at this season to remain so long. Where are they from,if you don’t mind telling?”

“I ha’ na reason to know, for I didna ask them, but London I think haseen them none sa lang ago.”

“They are English?”

The widow slowly shook her head.

“They are na like th’ English. I think they may be fra America.”

“I presume they are man and wife?”

“Na, na; they are brother an’ sister. A bonnie lassie is the girl, sir;but her brother seems na well.”

“Not well?”

“Na, sir. He keeps over close to his room. If they came to see QueenMary’s prison they ha’ not yet accomplisht it.”

“It is not likely Americans would take so much trouble to get a look atQueen Mary’s prison, madam. It must be they are here for some otherpurpose.”

“Then what it can be heaven knows! Once I said to the lassie that herbrother were fra too pale, an’ I thought a wee bit o’ whisky might beguide fa him; but she went white an’ trembly an’ begged me na to gi’ himone drop o’ it. She made me promise if he came and asked for it I wudsay there was naething o’ th’ kind i’ th’ house. I ken she is feared toha’ him drink it.”

The stranger smiled a little, and there seemed something a triflesinister about his face in that moment.

“It is a man poor in command of himself that cannot drink when he likesand leave it alone when he chooses,” he declared.

“Many a guide man canna do it.”

“Well, I don’t understand them. What is the name of this unfortunateman, if you don’t mind telling?”

“It is Budthorne.”

“Rather odd name.”

“But I ha’ na asked your name, sir. You are na English yoursel’?”

“No.”

“Nor still American. I think you must be——”

“French? Well, you are right, madam. I am Henri Clairvaux, of Paris.Think not I am curious or prying. These questions I have asked merelythe time to pass. I am walking through Scotland, but the weather isgetting too cold, and I soon shall depart for the south. In winter Imuch prefer Italy to your bleak north country here.”

At this the widow bridled a bit.

“Scotland alwa’ ha’ been guide enow fa me!” she exclaimed. “I ha’ tooknotice it is alwa’ th’ weak that prefer the warm countries i’ th’winter. I ha’ been thinkin’ ma’hap it wud be well fa th’ young manupstair to go south fa th’ winter time.”

Outside the door there was rustling. The door was opened and a musical,feminine voice called to the widow.

The man in the cloak had his back toward the door, and he did not move.

Excusing herself, the landlady hurried from the room. The moment she wasgone the stranger picked up his hat and gloves and hastily rose.

“It is well enough that she should not see me now,” he muttered. “I mustget out at once.”

He clapped his hat on his head and pulled it hard down, taking pains tomake the limber brim lap over his face. Then he swiftly crossed the roomto the door, buttoning his cloak over his breast.

Pausing at the door, he listened.

“The coast is clear,” he whispered; after which he stepped briskly outto the front door.

Just as he was passing through that door the girl came from another roomand saw his vanishing back. She clutched at the widow, who had followedher.

“That man?” she cried, in a trembling, frightened voice. “Who is he?”

“He ga’ his name as Henri Clairvaux, o’ Paris,” answered the WidowMyles.

“And lied!” panted the girl. After which she fled up the stairs to theroom of her brother, her face ashen pale.

CHAPTER IV.—BUDTHORNE’S STRUGGLE.

The working of alcohol on some constitutions is remarkable. It is asingular thing that some men seem to keep themselves steeped in thepoison for years without breaking down, while others rapidly go topieces and become physical wrecks before its vitality-destroyinginfluence. The latter class is by far the larger.

Occasionally a man whose nerves are deep set, whose constitution isironlike and whose coarser nature predominates, persists in drinkingregularly and heavily for years and seems to remain in good health. Tothose who know him well, and meet him day after day, he presents noabnormal aspect; but almost certain it is that drink has taken such ahold on him that he cannot appear to be in his natural condition unlesshe constantly keeps in his stomach enough of the stuff to intoxicate anoccasional drinker to the point of reeling. Take it away from him and hecollapses like a pricked bladder.

Dunbar Budthorne was a man without the stamina to withstand theblighting effect of constant drinking. The rapidity with which the stufffastened its clutch upon him was appalling. His relapse when, at theentreaty of his loving and faithful sister, he stopped drinking and letit wholly alone, was pitiful.

Ever since arriving at the Ben Cleuch, Budthorne had been in a state ofmental distress and physical collapse. The desire for drink was with himconstantly, and in his soul a fierce battle raged unceasingly. In thenight he rose and paced the floor of his room, his hands clinched, hisnerves taut, mumbling, mumbling, mumbling. Every night, at his request,Nadia locked him in that room, keeping the key with her.

“You must master the desire, Dunbar, my brother,” she said. “You can doit.”

“Yes, by Heaven!” he cried, setting his teeth. “For you, Nadia, I willdo it!”

“Not for me alone, Dunbar; for yourself, as well. You can see what youhave come to in less than a year. A year ago you were not the slave ofdrink.”

“I should say not! And had any one told me I’d get this way in twelvemonths I should have thought him a fool. I don’t understand it now.Nadia, why can other men drink when they choose, and let it alone whenthey choose?”

“Not all of them can, Dunbar, I am sure. I believe there are thousandsjust like you.”

“Perhaps you’re right; they keep it hidden from others, or they do notrealize it themselves.”

“That’s the way it is.”

“What a wise little chicken you are, sister! What a brave little girl!And what a worthless brother you have!”

Then she would caress him and pat him on the cheek, and tell him he was“all right.”

“All wrong, you mean. Sis, I’m going to make my share of the fortuneleft us over to you. I’ll do it at the first opportunity. I’ve made ahole in it already. Were I to keep hitting the booze, I’d go through thewhole of it in another year.”

“But you have stopped, and you’ll never touch it again. You have escapedfrom those evil friends whose influence was ruining you. Their hold onyou is broken.”

She did not chide him with his folly and weakness in ever becomingfriendly with such unworthy companions. She did not remind him that LukeDurbin was a barroom acquaintance, a race-track gambler, and a creaturehe had been forced to introduce to her with a flush of shame on hischeeks. She knew he had thought of this with regret and remorse.

But it was not Durbin she most feared; it was the Spaniard, Bunol, whohad been forced upon them by Durbin. She believed Bunol possessed someevil power of unknown force which he had exercised upon Budthorne, andthe spell of which he had tried to cast upon her. Durbin knew about thismysterious power, and he had brought Bunol forward that the fellow mightexercise it to accomplish the downfall of Budthorne and the snaring ofhis sister.

“Yes, their hold is broken,” he agreed. “We have our chanceacquaintances which we met on London Bridge to thank for that. It wasyour scheme——”

“Not mine; Dick Merriwell did it. It was he who formed the plan todisguise himself as Mr. Allsquint and get into your room in London thatnight of the card party, where he exposed the cheating of Bunol, who wasrobbing you at cards.”

“A wonderful chap that boy is! I like him, Nadia, and I like his chum,the fellow from Texas. Don’t you?”

“I do, indeed. Brad Buckhart is splendid, and the old professor is agenial soul. I am sorry we were unable to remain in Edinburgh until theycame; but Bunol was there, and I knew we might encounter him any time. Ithought it best to come here, but I have written our friends, making anexplanation, and I hope they will take the trouble to hunt us up.”

“If they do, it will be on your account, sis. Oh, yes it will! Look outfor Buckhart, Nadia! The fellow is smitten.”

“Nonsense, Dunbar!”

“He is. I noticed how he held your hand as they were seeing us off atthe station in London. His eyes followed you all the time. You’ll have awild and woolly Texan on your staff if you’re not careful.”

“I don’t see that there is anything so very wild and woolly about him.”

“Ha! ha! You resent that, eh? It looks suspicious, girl—verysuspicious. Better be careful.”

“Stop your teasing, Dunbar! I’m sure I don’t care a snap about him, andI don’t believe he cares anything about me. Why should he? We barelyknow each other; we may never meet again. He is only a boy——”

“And you’re only a girl. Many a boy-and-girl affair has ripened intosomething binding. Better wait until you find out more about him. Weknow practically nothing.”

“Oh, but I know he is a gentleman!” protested the girl. “If he were nothe would not be with Dick Merriwell and Professor Gunn. I have seen him,too, when he dropped his Western manners and was as refined in every wayas any one can be. You don’t think all Westerners are wild and woolly,do you?”

“Far from it. I am sure a chap from that part of our country may be asmuch a gentleman as any one; but your earnest defense of him increasesmy suspicions. You’ll have to be on your guard.”

“Why don’t you try to tease me about Dick Merriwell? I addressed theletter to him, telling him whither we had gone.”

“All the more significant. The wise bird takes flight at first sight ofthe sportsman.”

“You’re perfectly tormenting, Dunbar! If you continue talking in such afoolish manner I shall think your brain is affected.”

He laughed again.

“All right; I’ll let up—for the time being. But I’ll wager Buckhartshows up here as soon as possible after your letter is received, andhe’ll bring the others with him. We’ll have them with us by to-morrow.”

“I hope so,” she confessed.

The thing predicted was to happen even sooner.

CHAPTER V.—LIKE A BIRD OF EVIL OMEN.

Having seen the back of the departing stranger, Nadia fled up the stairsto the room of her brother, who was lying on a couch and seeking todivert his mind by reading. He did not note that she was pale andagitated as she came in, but he saw her hurriedly cross the room to awindow that commanded a view of the road which wound down toward the rimof Lochleven, where she drew aside the curtain and stood peering out.

“What is it, sis?” he yawned. “What do you see?”

She did not answer.

“Eh?” he exclaimed, putting down the book. “What are you staring at,Nadia?”

“Come here!” she whispered hoarsely.

Her manner and tone caused him to sit up at once.

“Is anything the matter?”

“Come quickly!”

He hurried to the window.

“Look!” she urged, clutching at his arm with her trembling fingers. “Seethat man going down the road?”

The stranger who had lately departed from the inn was walking brisklyaway, the cape of his dark cloak flapping about him, his head bent tothe chill wind that was blowing. His figure, in spite of the folds ofthe cloak, seemed slender and graceful.

“I see him,” said Dunbar.

“He was here a few moments ago—in this house!”

“Well?”

“Do you see nothing familiar about him?”

“Why, it seems as if I—I——By the Lord Harry! I believe——”

Budthorne checked himself.

“You believe what? Who is it?”

“Nadia, it looks like Bunol.”

“Yes, it looks like him.”

“But it can’t be! Did you see his face?”

“No, nothing but his back as he passed out at the door.”

“It can’t be Bunol,” repeated Budthorne.

“Why not?”

“How could he trace us here?”

“How could he trace us to Edinburgh? How much easier to trace us fromEdinburgh here than from London to Edinburgh!”

“I think he appeared in Edinburgh by chance, without knowing we werethere.”

“I do not,” declared the girl decidedly. “I think he followed us in somemanner.”

Budthorne did not like to believe this.

“You give him credit for the acumen of a Sherlock Holmes. Bunol is nodetective.”

“He is a human bloodhound! You do not know how much I fear him, Dunbar.”

“You say that man was here in this house a few minutes ago?”

“Yes.”

“You have seen the landlady since?”

“Yes.”

“And questioned her?”

“I asked her who he was.”

“Her answer?”

“She said he gave his name as Henri Clairvaux, of Paris.”

“Then it is not Bunol, sister. Why are you so agitated? It is merely aresemblance. Were we to see his face, I am sure it would prove to bethat of a perfect stranger.”

Suddenly she shrank back, lowering the curtain until she had partlyconcealed herself behind it.

“Look!” she exclaimed. “He has stopped before entering the woods! He hasturned to look back! He has pushed the hat up from his forehead to get abetter view! Look, Dunbar! Even at this distance you cannot fail torecognize him!”

“By Jove, you’re right, Nadia! It is Bunol, himself! Satan take thescoundrel! What is he trying to do?”

“He has located us here, and he will try to get you into his clutchesagain, Dunbar.”

“Confound him! He wants to keep away from me! I’ve had enough of him!He’ll find his day with me is past! He is wasting his time.”

“I fear him more than any one else in all the world,” confessed thegirl.

“Don’t you be afraid, Nadia,” said her brother. “I’ll protect you.”

“But that man’s eyes—you cannot resist their evil power.”

“Don’t you believe it! I’m stronger now than I was. I have conquered myweakness for drink, and that was what enabled him to deceive me.”

He truly thought he had conquered, but the girl realized that the battlehad only just begun, and that it was her influence and her watchfulnessthat had kept him from drinking since the night of the exposure inLondon.

Hidden behind the curtain, they peered forth and watched the man in thecloak. For a few minutes he remained gazing back at the lone inn, but atlast he turned once more and, with his cape flapping wing-like about hisshoulders, glided in the manner of a bird of evil omen into the bleakwoods, which swallowed him from view.

“He is gone!” said Budthorne.

“But he will return,” declared Nadia. “What shall we do, brother—shallwe flee from here?”

“No!” cried the man, flourishing his fist. “I’m no criminal, and Irefuse to act like one any longer! Let him return! I am my own master,and a score of scoundrels like Miguel Bunol cannot make me hide in coverlike a frightened rabbit. This thing must come to an end, sister. Hebelieves we are afraid of him. I’ll show him his error. That is the onlycourse to be pursued. It’s ridiculous to think of us running away from acommon cur like that. If he annoys you or threatens you, I’ll have himarrested and locked up.”

Although his words were very bold, she had come to believe that he wouldweaken and fail when the critical moment arrived.

For a long time they sat in that room, talking of the matter, Nadiafeeling doubts concerning the best thing to be done. Finally sheexclaimed:

“If the friends we met in London were here they could advise us. I wouldfeel safer, too. It might have been better had we remained in Edinburgh.It’s lonely here in the country, and I fear what may happen.”

The afternoon wore away. Night was at hand when both were startled bythe sound of hoofs and wheels outside.

With her heart fluttering in her bosom, Nadia sprang up and rushed tothe front window. A closed carriage had stopped before the door.Budthorne joined his sister at the window.

The carriage door opened and from it sprang two boys, followed moreleisurely by a man past middle age.

A cry of delight burst from Nadia.

“Our friends have come at last!” she joyously exclaimed.

CHAPTER VI.—BUNOL’S PLOT.

The man who had said he was Henri Clairvaux, of Paris, was in truthMiguel Bunol, a scheming and villainous young Spaniard.

Bunol had first met Luke Durbin on the race track in New Orleans, and,being congenial rascals, they became very well acquainted. But Durbinwas a rather slow, thick-witted rascal, while Bunol was quick,pantherish and full of crooked schemes.

It was some time after this meeting, that Durbin became acquainted inChicago with Dunbar Budthorne, who had commenced a career of dissipationand seemed anxious to spend as swiftly as possible his portion of thefortune left him at the death of his mother.

Durbin saw his opportunity, and determined to help Budthorne get rid ofthat fortune. At that time Budthorne was plunging on the races, andDurbin professed to have “inside information” and tips of the greatestvalue. With the aid of assistants, who professed to be bookmakers orpool-room men, Durbin succeeded in getting several thousands of dollarsbelonging to the reckless young man.

This money he spent freely, and it simply whetted his appetite for more.

When Nadia Budthorne fully realized the pace at which her brother wasgoing she devised the plan of inducing him to take her abroad, hopingthat in this manner he would escape from his evil companions.

But ere leaving Chicago Budthorne went on one last spree, met Durbin ina saloon and told the rascal of his plans.

Durbin did not try to dissuade the fellow, but he took passage on thesame steamer, and it was during the voyage across that Nadia sufferedthe humiliation of an introduction to the man, who succeeded in keepingDunbar constantly under the influence of liquor and fleeced himawkwardly at cards.

In London Durbin ran across Miguel Bunol, who, with Hector Marsh,formerly a student at Fardale, as an assistant, was working a fakehypnotic and fortune-telling scheme.

Durbin told Bunol and Marsh about Budthorne and his pretty sister. Theyexpressed a desire to meet Budthorne, and directly the three of themwere concerned in the plot to ruin the young American.

But, as was entirely natural, being far shrewder than Luke Durbin,Miguel Bunol soon became the chief mover and head of the rascally trio.

On his first sight of Nadia, Bunol became infatuated, and two days laterhe announced to his companions that he was determined to make her hiswife.

“All the money you can get from her brother, Durbin, you shall have—youand Marsh,” said the Spaniard. “I will help you get it from him, too.But for me I must have Nadia and her share of the fortune. My part ofthe graft this shall be.”

To this the others agreed, yet not without some growling from Durbin.Bunol, however, had the power to command and control the man, and heexercised this power with little difficulty.

In truth, the Spaniard possessed hypnotic influence, although he had notfully developed it. This influence he brought to bear on Budthorne. Helikewise tried it on Nadia, but her mind was stronger, and shesuccessfully fought against his baleful influence.

Budthorne refused to believe his sister’s assertion that his comradeswere cheating and robbing him; but at last, through the cleverness ofDick Merriwell, they were exposed, and he swore he would never againhave anything to do with them.

Fearing his will power would not be strong enough to hold out, Nadia hadinduced him to leave London and come north into Scotland, thinking therascals might be tricked and baffled.

But Bunol had succeeded in tracing them, while Marsh and Durbin remainedbehind and watched Merriwell’s party, correctly fancying that Dick andhis friends intended to join the Budthornes later.

Dick, Brad, and Professor Gunn were followed to Edinburgh by the two. InEdinburgh, by the merest accident, the scoundrels learned that theBudthornes had gone to Kinross.

Without the knowledge of Dick and his friends, the very train that borethem north to Kinross carried Marsh and Durbin in another compartment.

Thus the opposing forces were gathering at a point on Lochleven, whereit seemed that another clash between them might occur.

Bunol had wired his pals in London, but not until after they had leftfor the north. He had received no answer from them.

Having left the Ben Clench and walked as far as the woods, the Spanishyouth turned and looked back. His keen eyes surveyed the house, and evenat that distance he fancied he saw one of the curtains move at an upperwindow.

“If they are looking,” he muttered, “I am now too faraway for them torecognize me.”

At the back of the inn he saw a small man appear and wave somethingwhite.

“It is well,” muttered the rascal.

Then he turned and disappeared into the woods.

The trees broke the biting wind, but Bunol cursed the cold and thecountry.

Coming to a little footpath where the thin snow showed the imprints ofmany feet, he turned off and walked a short distance to the shore of thelake, on which lay a stout boat.

Sitting on a fallen tree near the boat was a sandy-haired, bearded,rough-looking man, who had a rather brutal face, and, judging by hismassive frame, possessed great strength.

“Well, MacLane, I am returned,” said Miguel.

The man nodded.

“I see ye are,” he said. “Did ye ha’ guid luck?”

“Oh, yes; you were right in saying my birds were at the Ben Cleuch. Now,if Aaron keeps his part of the contract——”

“Fear nawt, he wi’ keep it,” nodded MacLane. “Aaron kens Rob MacLane fu’well, an’ he dare na disobey me. He will come.”

“I think he will,” agreed Bunol. “I looked back, and a small man wavedsomething at me from the back of the house.”

“That were Aaron. I told him to follow ye, man, when he left, but totake guid care he were no’ observed. He will be here.”

“Well, I hope he comes soon, for this devil’s weather is uncomfortable.”

“Hoot man! Ye dinna ken what cauld weather is.”

“If that’s the case, I don’t want to know,” retorted Bunol. “This isquite enough for me.”

They sat on the log, talking in low tones, until a little, bent man,with a shawl wrapped about his shoulders, came gliding softly throughthe woods and stood before them.

“Here’s Aaron,” said MacLane. “Aaron, this is the man I would ha’ yemeet.”

Aaron said nothing, but surveyed Bunol with a pair of small eyes thatwere set close together and were filled with a light of mingled cunningand simplicity. It was not the face of a man to trust, yet for fiveyears Aaron had been with the Widow Myles, and had seemed faithful as agrateful dog.

“Tell Aaron what ye want, man,” said MacLane. “He will do it.”

“Aaron, at the inn there are two guests—a brother and a sister.”

The little man in the shawl bobbed his little head.

“I will not attempt to explain my reasons to you, Aaron,” the Spanishyouth went on; “but this night MacLane and I will get our hands on theman, and you must help us. You will be paid well.”

“I ha’ told him that,” interrupted the huge man. “I gied him the sillerye ga’ me. Did I no gie ye th’ siller, Aaron?”

“Yes,” said Aaron, “I ha’ the siller.”

“You shall have twice as much more if you follow directions faithfully,”promised Bunol, and the eyes of the little man glowed greedily. “If youare half as shrewd as MacLane says, you’ll get into no trouble over it.You wait on the guests at table?”

Aaron nodded.

“What does Budthorne drink at supper?”

“A cup o’ tay.”

“Well, see this package,” said the Spaniard, holding: up a tiny package.“It contains a powder. To-night you must contrive to get it intoBudthorne’s cup of tea.”

“It is poison!” said Aaron fearfully.

“Nothing of the sort. Budthorne has been a drinking man, but he istrying to stop. The effect of this powder will be to make him crazy forliquor. Twenty minutes after he takes the powder he’ll be ready tobarter his soul for one drink. Then, Aaron—listen closely—you mustcontrive to meet him and tell him somehow that you can get him a drink.Tell him to step outside the house and come round to the back, promisingto meet him with liquor, but state that the stuff is some you havestolen from the widow. Do you understand?”

“I do,” said Aaron. “But what will happen when he comes out?”

“MacLane and I will be hidden there. We’ll fall on Budthorne and carryhim off. MacLane is strong as a giant, and we’ll have little trouble.”

“Na! na!” exclaimed Aaron. “It is I that will hae th’ trouble!”

“It is not necessary.”

“What can I say?”

“You must tear your clothes, rumple your hair, cover yourself with dirt,and half an hour after we have carried Budthorne away you may appear andtell how he came outside, you spoke to him, and then you both wereattacked by a band of armed men, who struck you senseless. Of course youwill not know what has happened to Budthorne.”

“I must ken, man,” said Aaron grimly. “I dinna want ma neck strecht. Icanna hae hand in murder.”

Bunol laughed.

“But it’s not murder.”

“Then what is’t?”

“We are going to make Budthorne a prisoner for reasons of my own. He’llnot be harmed, and in due time he’ll have his liberty.”

Aaron seemed doubtful. He turned fearfully to MacLane.

“Maun I do it?” he asked.

“Yea,” growled the big man.

Aaron was afraid of MacLane, but now he almost fiercely declared:

“I will na do it ’less I know where ye tak’ him.”

“Why do you want to know that?” impatiently demanded Bunol.

“Ye ha’ to satisfy me,” stubbornly said the little man. “I ha’ to knowye really mean to keep him captive wi’out doing him harm. ’Less ye tellme where ye tak’ him, I will no do it.”

MacLane knew Aaron to be immovable as the Scottish hills once he had sethis mind on anything, and therefore he turned to the Spanish youth,saying:

“Ye hae to tell him, man.”

“But can he be trusted?”

“Aaron will na dare to betray me, but he has his whims, an’ ye’ll hae tohumor him.”

Bunol hesitated, not fancying the idea of trusting the little man withthe foolishly shrewd face to such an extent.

“It’s against my judgment,” he declared.

“Then tak’ th’ judgment o’ Rob MacLane. Ye canna do anything wi’ Aarontill ye trust him fully, as he thinks he has tae trust ye.”

“All right,” said the Spanish youth. “He will be taken to the old castleon the island, Aaron.”

“Wha Queen Mary were kept a captive?”

“Yes.”

“An’ ye swear to harm him nawt?”

“Sure. I’m going to make his sister marry me. It’s a way they have inAmerica of winning a bride. The Americans like it.”

“It’s a way they had years syne in Scotland,” chuckled MacLane, “only itwas th’ lassie hersel’ th’ lover stole awa’.”

“Is that a’?” exclaimed Aaron, apparently relieved.

“That is all.”

The little man took the powder.

“I will do all ye ask,” he promised.

CHAPTER VII.—DONE BENEATH THE STARS.

The delight of Nadia and her brother at the appearance of Dick and hiscompanions was great. Buckhart’s face was crimson as he pressed thegirl’s hand, and she seemed somewhat confused. Dick she met with perfectfrankness.

When the greetings were over and they had warmed themselves at the fire,the old professor went out and gazed long at Lochleven, over thewind-ruffled bosom of which the night was creeping.

“To-morrow,” he said, “I will feast my eyes on Queen Mary’s prison. Whata grand thing to be here on this romantic spot! Ah, those old days whenmen fought and bled and died for their country!”

In spite of the appearance of Miguel Bunol, it was a jolly party thatgathered about Widow Myles’ table that night at supper time. Nadia hadrecovered her high spirits and was gay and vivacious, while her brotherforgot for the time being the struggle against appetite that he had beenmaking for the last few days and was the smiling, courtly, jolly younggentleman nature intended him to be.

Widow Myles herself sat at the head of the table, beaming on her guests.She had a face like a withered russet apple, and one knew at a glancethat a generous, kindly old heart beat in her bosom. Naturally affable,the presence of so many guests at that season made her doubly so.

Brad had been placed in a chair opposite Nadia, much to hissatisfaction, as it gave him an opportunity to watch her mobile,changing features. It seemed that each passing minute revealed for himsome new and fresh attractiveness in the charming Chicago girl. He hadbeen badly smitten before, but during that supper at the Ben Cleuch hefell head-over-heels in love with her. Boy love it was, perhaps, butnone the less sincere. It might not last, but even though time brought achange, it would ever be a pleasant memory.

Aaron waited on the table. At this he was very deft, seeming to knowprecisely what was wanted at the lifting of the widow’s finger.

“A peculiar servant you have, Mrs. Myles,” observed Dick, at a time whenAaron was absent from the room.

“Ay,” nodded the widow, her cap ruffles dancing. “Aaron is alwa’faithful.”

“Has he been with you long?”

“Five year this snowfall, poor lad. He came trudgin’ to my door,barefoot, near dead wi’ cauld, near perisht wi’ hunger. I took him i’th’ house an’ gied him bread an’ clauthes. I warmed his bones, an’ sin’that day he has been wi’ me.”

“Is he trustworthy?”

“I wad trust him wi’ my life,” was her answer. “Th’ poor lad is not overbright, an’ yet he’s na fool. Have na fear he will molest yourvaluables. He is th’ watchdog o’ Ben Cleuch.”

Aaron returning at this minute, the conversation turned into anotherchannel.

The old professor could not get over his enthusiasm at being there inthat quaint little Scottish country inn.

“To-morrow, boys!” he cried—“to-morrow shall be a great day. We’llvisit Queen Mary’s prison.”

“Let’s all go,” proposed Dick.

“That’s the thing!” exclaimed Brad eagerly. “We’ll make a grandexcursion to the old castle. Will you do it, Nad—er—ah—MissBudthorne?”

“I think it would be fine,” she answered. “What do you say, Dunbar?”

“I’m agreeable,” said Budthorne, sipping at his tea. “I’ve been keepingtoo close in the house. Perhaps if I get out I’ll feel much better.”

Out of the corner of one small eye Aaron watched Budthorne drink thetea.

“Then it’s settled,” said Dick. “I suppose we can get a boat near here.I don’t fancy there are any of the old-time Scottish outlaws around herenow, Mrs. Myles?”

“Na, unless ye ma’ ca’ Rob MacLane one,” was her answer.

“Who is Rob MacLane?”

“He i’ th’ Auld Nick’s own!” was the answer. “A bad egg, if e’er therewere one. I’ these law-abidin’ times he minds na law, an’ he fearsnane—man nor de’il. It’s a’ things he has done but murder, an’ I thinksoon to hear he has done that.”

“Well, well! this is interesting, indeed!” cried the professor. “Whydon’t they arrest him and put him in jail?”

“Arrist Rob MacLane!” cried the widow. “It’s richt plain ye ha’ na heardo’ him! He i’ strang as twenty men, an’ na officer daurs to go take him.Twa o’ them tried it once, an’ wi’ his bare hands he near beat them bothto death. One didna get over that beatin’ till the day he died.”

“He would have made a fine outlaw in the old days,” laughed Dick. “Wheredoes this ruffian live?”

“Na man kens. Mayhap to-day he be here, to-morrow he is i’ th’ mountainsfar awa’.”

“How does he live?”

“He takes a’ he wants, an’ no man says him nay. Were he to come here thenicht, I’d gi’ him a’ he asked an’ be thankit for my life when he left.”

“Well, I’m getting some interested in Mr. MacLane!” exclaimed Buckhart.“I don’t suppose he is around here now?”

“I canna tell. He comes an’ goes like the wind. He may be outside th’door this minute, or he may be i’ Sutherland.”

Dunbar Budthorne was doing his best to repress a peculiar sensation thatwas creeping over him. He wanted something, but for the time he couldnot imagine what it was. Of a sudden he knew, and he turned pale as thetruth dawned upon him. He was ready to give anything or do anything fora drink of liquor.

While the others chatted on this restlessness and craving grew onBudthorne. Finally, politely asking to be excused and saying he wasgoing to his room, he rose from the table.

His sister gave him a glance of questioning apprehension, but he smiledon her reassuringly.

“You’re not ill, Dunbar?” she asked.

“Never felt better in my life,” he answered, and her mind was relieved.

Outside the dining-room door he encountered Aaron, who had left the roomahead of him.

“I’ there a’thing I could gi’ ye, sir?” inquired Aaron, with the utmostdeference and solicitude.

“No, nothing,” answered Budthorne, and started to pass on.

Suddenly he paused and looked over his shoulder at Aaron, dimly seen bythe faint light in the hall.

“Wait,” he said in a low tone. “Come here a moment, Aaron.”

The serving man stepped noiselessly toward him.

“Aaron, I’m not feeling quite right.”

“Ay, sir; I thought ye lookt a wee disturbed. I hope ye are na ill?”

“I’m afraid I shall be unless I can get something to ward off theattack. Do you know if there is whisky or liquor of any sort in theplace?”

Aaron seemed alarmed.

“I no hae anything to do wi’ it,” he hastily declared. “The widow alwa’keeps a wee bit i’ a bottle, but I hae na richt to touch it, sir.”

Eagerly, almost fiercely, Budthorne grasped the little man by his bonywrist.

“I must have something of the sort!” he breathed, huskily. “Aaron, youmust get me some of the contents of that bottle!”

“I canna do it,” declared the serving man, as if in great alarm. “Were Ito touch it th’ widow wud be sair mad wi’ me.”

“You need not let her know it. She’ll never miss a little—enough forone good drink.”

Still Aaron seemed alarmed.

“I ha’ been wi’ her five year an’ no’ once ha’ I failed to mind herbiddin’,” he said weakly.

“I’ll pay you—I’ll pay you well,” said Budthorne. “See, Aaron, here ismoney. Take it. Bring me enough for a drink from that bottle.”

He pressed the money into the hand of the little man, who seemed on thepoint of refusing it.

“She wi’ find it out, sir.”

“How? I’ll never tell her.”

“Ye sw’ar it?”

“Yes.”

“Na matter wh’ may hap, ye sw’ar ye willna tell Aaron gi’ ye one dropfrom that bottle?”

“I swear it! Hurry up, man, or I’ll explode for the want of a drink.”

“I canna gi’ it to ye here.”

“In my room, then?”

“Na! na!”

“Then where?”

“Ye maun meet me back o’ th’ house.”

“Anywhere, so that I get the drink. How can I do it? Hurry up!”

“Ye maun go out by th’ front dure; I’ll go out by th’ back. Step roundthe corner an’ find me at th’ back.”

“All right. But don’t lose time about it.”

“Have na fear.”

“Bring a big drink—a stiff drink. The longer I am without it the more Iwant.”

A few moments later Budthorne left the cottage by the front door. Therewas no moon, but millions of bright stars gleamed in the dome of heaven.The wind had fallen with the coming of night, but although it did notfeel as cold, the temperature was much lower. To the east, close athand, slumbered Lochleven; to the north, farther removed, rose therugged Ochill Hills.

It was a night of peace and repose, with no suggestion of danger lurkingnear.

Within the cottage the merry party chatted and laughed about the suppertable. Not until Budthorne had been absent some time did Nadia think ofhim again; but at last she began to worry why he did not return.

Finally she rose from the table, saying she would see what was detaininghim.

“He has not been quite well of late,” she explained. “Of course I’mfoolish to worry about him, but I can’t help it. He must be in his room.I’ll return in a few moments.”

She did return in a few moments, a frightened look on her pale face.

“He’s gone!” she said. “I can’t find him!”

At this moment the door leading to the kitchen was flung open by a heavybody striking against it, and into the dining room staggered Aaron, hisclothes torn, his face pale, and a streak of blood across one temple.

At sight of him the others sprang up.

“What has happened?” cried Dick.

“I canna tell!” moaned Aaron. “Th’ guid young man asked me to meet himat th’ back o’ th’ house. When I did so an’ we were speakin’ together aband o’ men wi’ masks ower their faces sprang out upon us. One o’ themgrappled wi’ me. I tried to tear fra him, an’ thin I saw all th’ starso’ heaven fa’ on my haid. Next I found mysel’ strecht on th’ ground an’th’ stars back i’ their places; but th’ young man were gone an’ th’ menha vanished.”

Having made this explanation, Aaron fell heavily to the floor.

Nadia promptly fainted in Brad Buckhart’s arms. The old professor threwup his thin hands and looked quite helpless. The widow assisted Buckhartto take the senseless girl into the sitting room and place her on thecouch near the crackling, open fire.

Dick Merriwell lost not a moment in kneeling beside Aaron and examininghis injury. He found a very slight cut in the hair near the temple.

“Stop that groaning!” he sternly commanded. “You’re not even badly hurt;you’re scarcely scratched.”

“Na! na!” gasped the little man. “I think I maun dee!”

“You won’t die from anything that has happened to you to-night. Get up!Stop this foolishness! Why, I can’t even find a bump on your head, andthere should be a swelling there if you were hit so frightfully hard.Sit up!”

Dick’s manner was commanding, and, although he continued to take on,Aaron sat up.

“Now, see here,” said young Merriwell, “I want you to tell me that storyagain, and tell it straight. Just what did happen outside the inn?”

Aaron repeated his tale, without much variation. Practically it was thesame.

“Do you mean to tell me that little scratch rendered you unconscious,man?” demanded Dick. “Why, it wouldn’t hurt a sick kitten!”

“I were struck on th’ heid wi’ somethin’.”

“Where is the abrasion or the swelling?”

“I ken naething about abreesions, sir. A’ I know, the sky seemed to fa’on me.”

There was insincerity in Aaron’s tones, and Dick doubted him.

“Get a lantern,” he ordered. “I suppose you have one about the place?”

“Ay.”

“Get up! Bring me that lantern, and lose not a second.”

He assisted the little man to his feet. Aaron professed to be weak andconfused, but Dick placed a heavy hand on him, saying sternly:

“If you cause me delay, I shall suspect that you do it purposely.Budthorne is rich, and those concerned in any harm to him cannot fail tobe punished severely. If masked men carried him off, a hundred armedhunters will be engaged to search for them and kill them like dogs whenfound. Those who are not killed will be arrested and imprisoned. Workhard and fast, Aaron, that you are not suspected of having part in thisbad business.”

“Na one who knows poor Aaron will suspect him o’ any wrong,” was thefellow’s protest.

“You don’t know the manner of Americans. They suspect every oneconcerned in an affair until he is found guiltless. Is this the lantern,Aaron? Light it instantly and lead me to the spot where this struggletook place.”

Somewhat awed by Dick and feeling the power of the boy’s will, theserving man tremblingly lighted the lantern, after which he conductedMerriwell from the house to the spot where the encounter had takenplace.

“Stand still,” ordered Merriwell, taking the lantern from the man’shand. “Let me read the signs here.”

There were tracks in the snow and some indications of a struggle. At onepoint was an imprint that seemed to indicate a man had fallen there.Dick picked up something, glanced at it by the light of the lantern andslipped it into a pocket.

Anxiously Aaron watched the boy, about whose manner there was methodthat alarmed the servant. Somehow Aaron began to believe Dick wasreading those imprints and footmarks like the printed words of a book.

He was not far from right.

“What have you found, pard?” It was the voice of Buckhart, who hadissued from the back door of the inn.

“Budthorne was struck down by men who had been concealed behind thislittle building,” said Dick. “They stepped out upon him as he stood hereat the corner of the building, with his back turned in their direction.Aaron stood in front of him. They struck him with a sandbag, or somemuffled weapon that did not cut his head.”

“How many of them were there?”

“Four. Three of them lifted and carried him toward the road, two holdinghis arms, while the third had his legs. The fourth chap, who was theleader, walked in advance. Three of them do not belong hereabouts, butthe fourth, a heavy man with very big feet, belongs in the country.”

“Guid Lord!” whispered Aaron to himself, “how do he ken a’ that?”

Dick’s early training by the old Indian, Joe Crowfoot, was standing himin good stead now.

Holding the lantern low, Merriwell followed the tracks toward the road.

“It’s likely they carried him off in a carriage, partner,” said theTexan.

But when the highway was reached, where it seemed that the boy with thelantern could find nothing to guide him to any conclusions, Dickcontinued his search, seeming to pick out the trail amid the manyimprints there.

“There was no carriage here,” said the lad with the lantern. “They stillcarried him in the original manner.”

“But they could not contemplate carrying him far in that way.”

“Surely not.”

“Pard, are you armed?”

“No; are you?”

“I’m a-heap sorry to say I’m not.”

Aaron had followed tremblingly at the heels of the boys. Now ProfessorGunn came hastening from the house and joined them.

“It’s awful—perfectly awful!” he fluttered. “I fear the shock will killhis sister. She’s in a dreadful condition. Boys, we must send to townright off for the officers. We are in danger of our lives. At thismoment we are in deadly peril. I’m afraid out here where the ruffiansmay spring upon us, and I’m afraid in there with no one but a woman anda girl.”

“Go back to the inn, professor,” directed Dick. “Stay with the widow andNadia.”

“What if the ruffians come?”

“You’ll be there to protect the ladies. It will give you an opportunityto display your heroism and fighting blood.”

“But this isn’t the right kind of an opportunity,” said Zenas. “Boys,you are recklessly exposing your lives! Come back into the inn at once.I can’t permit you to be so careless.”

“You’ll have to permit it now,” retorted Merriwell.

“What, do you dare disobey my orders?”

“On an occasion like this, yes. It is necessary, professor.”

Zenas gasped and hesitated.

“Do come in!” he urged. “What can I tell your brother if anythingserious happens to you?”

“Tell him the truth, and he will be satisfied. I am doing what mybrother would wish me to do.”

“Dear! dear!” muttered Gunn. “I regret that we ever came here. I fearwe’ll all be murdered before we get away.”

Mumbling to himself, he hastened tremblingly back to the inn.

“His courage has all oozed out,” said Dick.

“Waugh! I should say it had!” growled Brad, in disgust.

Aaron now attempted to frighten the boys by telling them how fierce themasked men were and how thoroughly armed.

“Singular you saw so much of them,” observed Dick. “Never mind if theyare armed thus and ready to commit murder at the drop of a hat; we’ll doour best to trail them, just the same.”

“Right, partner!” cried Buckhart. “It’s up to us to do everything we canfor the sake of Nadia. It hurt me a heap to see her heartbroken over herbrother, and I couldn’t stay with her any longer. I told her we’d findhim.”

Down the road went Dick and Brad, with Aaron following them like a dog.

They entered the woods, where the bare trees stood silent and grim,coming at length to the path that turned off toward the lake. This Dicktook.

Reaching the shore, Merriwell quickly announced that Budthorne had beenplaced in a boat and taken away.

“That lad ha’ th’ power o’ a witch!” whispered Aaron to himself. Then heshook as he beheld Dick’s eyes fastened on him.

“Come,” said the boy grimly, “we can’t follow them on water, for thatleaves no trail. We’ll return to the inn.”

As they entered the inn Nadia rushed at them, asking if they had learnedwhere her brother was and what had happened to him.

“Not yet,” answered Merriwell; “but we’ll know all about it in aminute.”

“How—how will you learn the truth?”

“From Aaron,” was the quiet answer that made the little man gasp.

“Aaron? He——”

“He knows much more than he has seen fit to tell.”

“Guidness kens I ha’ told ye everything!” protested the alarmed man.

Dick’s dark eyes were fastened on Aaron, and to the latter they seemedto bore into his very soul.

“Sit there,” commanded the boy, pointing toward a chair.

Aaron felt that he was compelled to do so.

Dick drew another chair before the man, sitting where he could look himstraight in the eyes.

“Aaron,” he said, “who is your best friend?”

“Mrs. Myles, sir.”

“Do you wish to ruin her?”

“Na, na; not for th’ world!”

“Do you know that what has happened here to-night will ruin her unlessyou tell the whole truth and thus enable us to follow Budthorne’scaptors and rescue him?”

“Na, na!”

“But it will. The story will travel far and wide. Every one will hearhow a young American, a guest at this inn, was captured by ruffians andcarried off. Travelers will shun the place. Mrs. Myles will find herbusiness gone. With no income, she’ll soon come to want and suffering.Without money she’ll be unable to buy flour, and meat, and fuel. Therewill be no warm fire on her hearth in the bleak winter, and she’llsuffer from hunger. You will be responsible—you, the one she took inwhen you were in wretchedness, the one she has fed, and housed, andtrusted.”

Aaron held up his hands.

“I canna be to blame for it!” he cried.

“You will be. You met Budthorne out there by understanding. You knewthose men were hidden behind the little building. You knew they meant tocarry him away. You were not injured or struck down. You even cut thattiny gash on your own head with a common knife. Here it is. I picked itup where in your excitement you dropped it in the snow.”

Dick produced and held up the knife.

Aaron’s face was ghastly, and a terrible fear was in his eyes. This boywith the searching eyes knew just what had happened, and it was uselessto lie.

“I canna tell!” moaned the little man. “Do na look a’ me wi’ them eyes!I canna tell! I canna tell!”

“My poor lad!” exclaimed the widow. “Do na fear, but speak out th’truth.”

“He wi’ kill me if I do!” whispered Aaron.

“No one shall harm you,” promised Dick.

“You canna tell that, for you do na ken him.”

“Whom do you mean, Aaron?” asked the widow.

“Rob MacLane,” he breathed, shuddering with fear.

“Rob MacLane?” cried the landlady, in consternation: “Do na tell me hehad hand i’ this black work!”

The shivering little man nodded.

“Then,” said the widow, “th’ poor young man is lost forever an’ there isna hope for him.”

“You may as well confess everything now,” said Dick, once more fixingAaron with his piercing eyes. “It can do no further harm to you. Make aclean breast of it—for the widow’s sake, for the one who has warmed,and fed, and trusted you.”

“I will!” said the little man; and in shaking tones he hurried throughthe confession.

When Dick heard that Budthorne was to be taken to the old castle on theisland and held a captive there he sprang up, turning to Nadia.

“We will find a way to save him, Miss Budthorne,” he promised. “Trustus.”

“How can you—how can you against Miguel Bunol and this terribleruffian, MacLane?” she cried. “Then Aaron says there were more than twoof them who attacked Dunbar at the door and struck him down.”

“The other two were Marsh and Durbin. Marsh is a pitiful coward, atbest, so that practically reduces their fighting force to three. Thereare two of us, Brad and myself.”

“And I sure allow we’ll make it a whole lot hot for those three finegents,” said the Texan, whose fighting blood was beginning to coursehotly in his veins. “We know Bunol and Durbin. MacLane may not be halfas dangerous as he is pictured. Nadia, we propose to bring your brothersafe back to you before morning. You hear me chirp!”

CHAPTER VIII.—BUNOL MAKES HIS DEMAND.

Miguel Bunol stood in front of his weak, helpless captive in a room ofthe crumbling castle of Lochleven. The bare room was lighted by a torchthrust into a great crack in the wall. There was no furniture in theplace. Dunbar Budthorne sat on the floor, with his back against thewall.

Bunol’s arms were folded. His head was bowed a little, and he wassteadily regarding Budthorne from beneath his black eyebrows.

“Well,” said the captive, weakly, “have you come to finish me?”

The Spaniard made a gesture of remonstrance with his gloved hand.

“How can you ask such a foolish question, my dear friend?” he said.

“Don’t call me your friend!” exclaimed Budthorne, with a slight show ofresentment and spirit. “I am no friend to such a wretch as you!”

“Then let me assure you that I am your friend. I am deeply interested inyou, else I should not have taken all this trouble to-night.”

Something like a mirthless, mocking laugh came from the lips of theprisoner.

“A fine, friendly act!” said Budthorne. “It is the act of a solicitousfriend to fall on one, sandbag him and carry him off by force to a placelike this, I suppose! Where are the rest of your ruffians?”

“They are near enough to come at my call should I need them,” saidBunol. “Never mind them. I wished to have a little private chat withyou, and they kindly retired to give me that privilege.”

“What is your game, Bunol? Out with it!”

“Don’t be in such haste. There is plenty of time. We have the wholenight before us. Indeed, should you remain obstinate, we may have manynights before us. You are quite safe, my dear Budthorne, here in thisold castle. At this season of the year there is no danger thattroublesome visitors will come to inspect the stronghold that was once,long ago, the prison of Queen Mary and is now yours.”

“If they should come——”

“If they should come—see that door? It can be closed and barred. Beyondit is another door that can be made secure. If troublesome persons came,they would never find you. In here you might shout until your throat yousplit without ever making them hear one faint cry. Have you ever heardof Rob MacLane? Well, some years there have been that he has lived witha price on his head, and always he had found this a safe hiding placewhen in this vicinity. There is not one chance in ten thousand that yourfriends at Ben Cleuch will come here to look for you; but should theycome they will find no trace of you.”

“You devil!” cried Budthorne.

“Just how it was I wished you to know before we began talking. Now,listen, my dear Budthorne. You are a very reckless and extravagant youngman, wholly unfitted to handle large sums of money. This I have learnedsince my acquaintance with you. I have discovered that soon you willspend your own share of the fortune which you inherited, and then I amsure you will make inroads into that of your sister, who cares so verymuch for you that she is unable to refuse you anything. What you greatlyneed is some one to look after you and your sister and to prevent youfrom beggaring yourself and her. Who in all the world is better fittedfor this than your very dear friend, Miguel Bunol?”

“What folly!” exclaimed the captive. “What are you driving at?”

“First I wish to prove that I am sincere in my protestations offriendship,” the Spaniard calmly continued. “When first I knew you, acertain man, who is now not far away, had chosen you as a victim to bedespoiled of your money. He thought I might be of assistance to him inthe pleasant occupation, and so he took me into partnership.”

“You mean that miserable wretch, Durbin!”

“I have called no names. At the outset I joined him, with no otherthought than to obtain a portion of the spoils. But in time I came toadmire you and care for you very much. It became a repulsive task for meto assist him in his bungling plans, but the money I needed, and you hadso much that I felt you well might spare a little. Thus it went on. Thenyou did me the honor to present me to your lovely sister.”

“I was a fool.”

“No, for I learned to care a great deal for Nadia, and in time I decidedthat for her sake you must be saved. In order to save you I decided tomarry her.”

In spite of his weakness, Budthorne struggled to his feet as if toattack Bunol, but he was forced to lean against the wall for support.

“Don’t excite yourself too much,” urged the Spaniard, with mocksolicitude. “You are not strong.”

“No, no!” groaned Budthorne. “My legs will scarcely bear my weight. Ibelieve you somehow contrived to drug me, you wretch!”

Bunol smiled, thinking of the drug he had given Aaron.

“You do me great injustice,” he protested. “Let me continue. I resolvedto marry your sister, for I felt she stood in great need of a faithfulguardian who would care for her tenderly and prevent you fromsquandering her share of the fortune. Little by little I gainedinfluence and control over you, and I should have succeeded in full butfor the interference of that fellow Merriwell. He upset all my plans.Had those plans worked as they should, the moment I became sure of NadiaI should have cast aside both Durbin and Marsh. Rid of them, I couldcause you to cease your recklessness and prevent you from squanderingwhat remained of your fortune. You see, Budthorne, my intentions towardyou were of the most friendly sort.”

“Bah!” cried the captive.

“After the exposure in London,” Bunol went on, “I succeeded in followingyou here, leaving Marsh and Durbin behind. With the aid of a faithfulfellow, good fortune led me to meet, I planned to get hold of you, justas I have, in order to talk reason to you. I could have done very wellwithout Marsh and Durbin, but it chanced that they followed Merriwelland his companions to Ben Cleuch, and they were passing on the highwaywhen I hailed them. I thought it best to use them once more this night,and then to get rid of them forever. They think I am now trying tosqueeze from you more money that is to be divided equally between us.Thus they deceive themselves. If you have in your head the reason youshould, it is little they will get.”

“What are you trying to propose?” demanded Budthorne.

“That you swear to me by all you hold sacred, by the memory of yourmother and the fear of God, that you will not prevent me from makingyour sister my wife, either by word, deed or suggestion. That is all Iask.”

“And if I do that—what then?”

“I will outwit the others. I will lead you from this place when theyknow nothing of it. We will take the boat and row away. When we arriveat the inn, I will tell how I found and rescued you from Rob MacLane,Hector Marsh, and Luke Durbin. You will say it is true, every word tothe last. After that my own cards I will play, and your sister will Iwin, for I have the power to make her mine.”

Always self-confident to an amazing degree, knowing his influence overBudthorne, and believing he could force the man to do his will, Bunolbelieved that in this manner he might make himself a hero in the eyes ofNadia, might ensnare her in his hypnotic net, and might obtain her forhis own at last.

But all the while he was playing double with Budthorne, for he hadoutlined his plan to Durbin and Marsh, promising to wring money fromboth brother and sister if he succeeded, and to divide liberally withhis accomplices. Rob MacLane was to be paid a set sum for his services.

“What if I refuse?” asked Budthorne.

“Then I shall leave you here alone in the dark to meditate upon it atime.”

“You fool!” panted the captive. “You were crazy to fancy you could forceme into such a thing! Not in a thousand years!”

Bunol shrugged his shoulders.

“It is you who are foolish,” he asserted. “Look into my eyes a moment,Budthorne, and——”

“No! no!” hoarsely cried the young man, as he suddenly started forward,his hands clinched, resolved to attack his enemy. “I’ll fight you here,man to man.”

The Spaniard struck those clinched hands aside and gave Budthorne athrust that sent him again to the wall, against which he struck and thendropped to the floor.

“Very well,” said Miguel. “Having thought it over, you will change yourmind, I believe. I will leave you to consider it all.”

Snatching the torch from the crack, he strode from the room, closing andbarring the heavy door behind him.

CHAPTER IX.—THE FIGHT IN THE CASTLE.

The night was on the wane when Miguel Bunol returned and found theshivering, half-frozen captive stretched on the bare floor.

Budthorne lifted his head from his curled arms and looked at his enemywith eyes filled with fear and hatred.

“Leave me to die!” he hoarsely said. “You can never force me tosacrifice my sister!”

“Still obstinate!” sneered Bunol. “I had hoped to see a change in you.Unless you decide at once to comply, you will have to remain herethrough another day, for morning approaches, and we can leave thisisland only by night.”

“I’ll never give in! I’ll never surrender to your evil influence!You——”

The speaker stopped suddenly, starting up and listening, for from somedistant portion of the old ruin came a sudden cry of alarm. This cry wasfollowed by others and then a shot was heard!

For a moment, as Budthorne struggled to his feet, Miguel Bunol stoodamazed and thunderstruck. Then he snarled out an oath and wheeled towardthe door.

With a sudden burst of strength, Budthorne dashed at the fellow andleaped on his back, clutching him round the neck with both arms.

At the same time he lifted his voice and shouted for help.

Budthorne believed rescuers had arrived.

He was right. With muffled oars, a boat containing four persons hadnoiselessly approached the island, slipping into the dark shadows of itswooded shore.

The four in the boat were Dick Merriwell, Brad Buckhart, Zenas Gunn, andAaron, the latter having provided the boat and accompanied them in theeffort to find and rescue Budthorne.

Professor Gunn was shaking like a man with the ague.

“Bub-bub-bub-boys,” he whispered, as Dick and Brad cautiously steppedout of the boat, “I th-th-think I had bub-bub-bub-better remain here andgug-gug-gug-guard the bub-boat.”

“That’s right,” agreed Dick. “You’ll serve us better here than you willto go with us. But don’t go away. Wait for us, no matter what happens.”

Aaron, who was determined to undo the wrong Dick had led him to believehe had committed toward Widow Myles, led the boys under the crumblingwall and into the grim and silent castle.

To Professor Gunn it seemed that ages passed, but at last his heart wassent quivering into his throat by the sounds that came from the interiorof the ruin. There were hoarse shouts, a shot, and a muffled voicecalling for help.

The professor wrung his hands.

“How can I ever tell Frank that I let his brother go to his death inthis manner!” he moaned. “Both those brave boys will be murdered, and Ifeel that I am responsible for it.”

Within the castle the terrifying sounds continued for a time. At lastthe old professor was startled to see appear on a portion of the wall,faintly outlined against the sky, two dark figures. They grappled, oneof them seeming huge and giant-like, while the other was much smaller.

Holding his breath in horrified suspense, Professor Gunn watched thebrief struggle. The larger man seemed easily to conquer his antagonist,and the professor heard him hoarsely snarl:

“Ye runty de’il, ye ha’ played traitor on Rob MacLane, ha’ ye? It’s th’last thing ye e’er do!”

Then the giant lifted the little man in his arms to hurl him from thewall.

At that moment another figure appeared. There was a flash of fire andthe ring of a pistol shot.

The giant dropped the little man, flung up his hands and both plungedfrom the wall.

The shaking old man by the boat heard the one who had fired the shotexclaim:

“Great tarantulas! I sure opine that’s the end of both of them!”

It was Buckhart, the fighting Texan; but a moment later he haddisappeared.

Then, as the still trembling professor crouched by the boat, he wasstartled to see two forms run past, one after the other. Directly thesound of oars came to his ears, and, peering out on the placid face ofthe cold lake, he beheld a boat that was being rapidly rowed away.

And he could have sworn there were three persons in the boat.

Miguel Bunol succeeded after much effort in tearing his assailant fromhis back and striking him down. Then the Spaniard fled from the room anddown the stairs.

Bunol’s companions had been surprised and attacked. On account of theboldness of the assailants, they believed the force much larger than itwas, and they lost no time in seeking to get away.

The light in the room was dashed out, and in the darkness the fightcontinued.

Aaron had singled out Rob MacLane, but the ruffian escaped by anotherdoor, and the little man followed him to the wall, where took place theencounter witnessed by Professor Gunn.

Marsh and Durbin had been fortunate in getting away in the dark passagesof the old castle, and Buckhart followed Aaron in his pursuit ofMacLane. Brad witnessed the peril of the little man, and fired to savehim from being dashed from the wall. Following the shot, both men fell.

Buckhart retraced his steps and heard Dick calling to him. Guided byMerriwell’s voice, he came upon Dick, who was supporting Budthorne withone hand and holding a torch with the other.

“Perhaps we had better get out of here before those chaps recover andrealize there are so few of us,” said Dick. “I think Budthorne is allright, and we’ve had great luck.”

“Luck!” cried the fighting Texan. “No luck about it, pard! I opine itwas a case of pure sand, and we won the game on our merits.”

He then told what had happened on the old wall.

They lost no time in getting outside and aiding Budthorne to the spotwhere the terrified professor waited with the boat.

“But we’re not going away without finding out what has happened toAaron,” said Dick. “Come on, Brad.”

They went in search of the little man and found him under the wall, hisleg broken. Near at hand lay another man, who had something worse than abroken leg, for a bullet had pierced his shoulder and his neck had beenbroken when he struck the ground.

Innocent persons in that part of the country would never more beterrorized by Rob MacLane.

After a long consultation with Budthorne and his sister, it was decided,on Dick’s advice, that Dunbar and Nadia should quietly leave Scotlandfor Italy. Dick and Brad promised to meet them, if possible, after theyhad visited several points of interest in England, upon which theprofessor insisted.

CHAPTER X.—THE HAUNTS OF ROBIN HOOD.

“Well, boys,” said Professor Gunn, “we are at last in the very heart ofSherwood Forest, the haunt of Robin Hood, the outlaw.”

“There certain is a right good stretch of timber and some of the biggesttrees I ever saw,” confessed Brad Buckhart; “but it doesn’t seem to methat it should have been such a mighty hard thing to hunt an old outlawout of a place like this.”

“Times were different then, and you must not forget that, while Robinplundered the rich, legends have it that he was always kind to the poor,and, therefore, he had many friends who warned him of danger and gavehim protection.”

Dick Merriwell, Brad Buckhart, and Professor Gunn were being driven inan open carriage through the noble and famous forest. All around themstood the mighty oaks, some of which, it was said, had withstood thestorms of seven centuries. The westering sun of what had been an idealautumn day gleamed through the branches on which the brown leavesrustled and where the squirrels chattered. The frozen ground wasbestrewn with fallen leaves, which rustled in little flocks along thehard road when stirred by a passing breeze, seeming like startled birds.

Earlier in the day they had visited Newstead Abbey, the home of Byron,where two hours were spent. On leaving they drove through theever-thickening forest to a little wayside inn, where they lunched.After a rest, they resumed their drive, it being their object to stopfor the night at Robin Hood’s Tavern, an inn of which they had been toldby their cockney driver.

“Is it really true, professor,” asked Dick, “that Robin Hood was ofnoble birth?”

The old pedagogue shrugged his shoulders and smiled a withered smile.

“That is a question no one can answer,” he declared. “It has been saidthat he was the outlawed Earl of Huntingdon, but such a tale may havecome from the fact that the really noble qualities he betrayed seemedquite unnatural for a robber and outlaw, and were supposed to bepossessed only by those of gentle birth. But here in this forest heroamed with Friar Tuck, Little John, Will Scarlett, Allen-a-Dale, andMaid Marion. Here he made merry and lived such a life of adventure, andease, and pleasure, that he has been the envy of every romanticyoungster to this day.”

“Did he live long?” questioned Buckhart.

“Tradition says he lived his roving, careless, jolly life until hebecame a very old man.”

“And how did he die? Was he executed?”

“Oh, no. Being somewhat ill, he trusted himself to the prioress ofKirkley to be bled, and she treacherously let him bleed to death.”

“Do you believe there really was a Robin Hood, professor?”

“Why not?”

“Well, you know the story has been doubted by students of history, manyof whom assert that the story of his life is purely legendary.”

“Hum! haw! Haw! hum!” coughed Zenas. “Some of these students of historyare cranks and doubters on principle. They think they impress peoplewith their great knowledge, acumen and judgment by doubting everythingthere is any chance of doubting. You can doubt anything that happenedsay a century ago if you wish to. No matter how strong the proofs maybe, you can say they were manufactured. Do either of you boys doubt thestory of Paul Revere’s ride?”

“Of course not!” exclaimed Dick.

“I should rise to remark that we don’t,” burst from Brad.

“Well, I once heard a man, an educated man, a scholar, declaring thatthe whole yarn had been manufactured out of moonshine. He didn’t denythere had lived such a person as Paul Revere, for Paul Revere’sdescendants still live; but he insisted and maintained that the tale ofhis midnight ride had been elaborated and cooked up to please those whowished to make a hero of a very commonplace man.”

“Great tarantulas!” growled Brad. “That gent certain deserved to be shotup some for making such foolish talk!”

“Do you really believe there was a Robin Hood, professor?” asked Dick,once more.

“I think there is no doubt that such a man lived,” answered the old manstiffly. “Perhaps he did not pass through all the stirring adventurescredited to him, but I am satisfied that there was a Robin Hood. He waspassionately attached to the chase, and he was bold enough to make freewith the king’s deer, which angered the king, who summoned him toLondon. Thinking himself far safer here in this forest, which was thenmuch more vast, having since been cut away to a great extent, he simplyignored the summons, upon which the king pronounced him an outlaw.”

The sun was low in the west, and the long shadows deepened in SherwoodForest. Soon the sun set and night spread its wing over the ancienthaunts of Robin Hood.

“How much farther to the tavern, driver?” asked Professor Gunn.

“Not hover four mile, sir,” was the answer.

Behind them on the hard road there sounded the clatter of hoofs andrumble of wheels. Looking round, they saw a closed carriage, drawn bytwo horses, rapidly approaching.

“Some one drives in a great hurry,” said Dick.

The horses were steaming as they whipped past at a favorable place fordoing so. The curtains of the carriage were closely drawn, and not asoul save the muffled driver was to be seen.

“Those horses have been pushed right hard,” observed Buckhart. “Wonderwho’s inside the old hearse.”

They crossed a stone bridge and followed the winding road on into astill deeper portion of the forest. The sun went down and darknessgathered.

At last a light glimmered cheerfully in the distance and a dog barked.

“That is Robin ’Oods Tavern,” said the driver.

“Glad of it!” exclaimed the professor. “It’s getting cold since sunset.Not quite as bad as it was in Scotland, but too cold for comfort whiledriving.”

“Why, I allowed it was some hot up round Lochleven in Scotland,”chuckled Buckhart. “We warmed things up one night. Eh, pard?”

“Rather,” agreed Dick.

Amid the massive oaks stood the little inn, with the light shiningcheerfully from its windows. Soon they drew up before it, their journeyended for the night.

Outside the inn, with the horses unhitched and removed, stood the sameclosed carriage that had passed them on the road.

A hostler came to take charge of their horses, and they entered the inn,being greeted by the landlord, a ruddy-cheeked man, named Swinton, whowas smoking a rank-smelling pipe. The landlord welcomed them in ahearty, cheerful manner, bidding them come in by the fire and get warm.

“It’s going to be a cold night, gentlemen,” he said.

“Cold, indeed, sir,” agreed the professor; “but your little house looksbright, and warm, and comfortable.”

“So I think you will find it. You will stay to sup with me?”

“We hope you can give us accommodations overnight. Have you two rooms,one with a fire in it?”

“I have just what you want, I believe—two rooms with a door between,and a grate fire in one of them. You may be as comfortable as you pleasehere.”

By this time the professor had learned that it was always best tobargain in advance for accommodations in England, and this he proceededto do, haggling in a good-natured way with the landlord, who at firstasked an exorbitant price.

“We’re not millionaires, my dear sir,” said Zenas. “We’re just plain,ordinary people, traveling through your beautiful country. The penniescount with us.”

“You’re from America, are you not?” asked the innkeeper, seeming greatlysurprised at this confession.

“We are, but not all Americans have money to burn, even though the mostof them who come abroad wish people to think so.”

Finally the landlord agreed to a price a full third lower than he hadoriginally named, after which, having ushered them into a room with anopen coal fire, he went away to prepare their rooms for them.

A servant came and removed the wraps, saying they would be taken to therooms upstairs. He also took charge of the big hand bag, which containedtheir nightdresses and such toilet articles as they always carried withthem.

After a time the porter came and announced that their rooms were readyfor them. At the foot of the stairs a maid with a lighted candle waitedto escort them. She was a buxom, red-cheeked country girl.

“Be careful hof of the stairs, sir; they’re very steep sir,” she said toZenas, giving him a smile that made him brace up wonderfully. “Hi ’aveto climb them hoften henough to know.”

“Er-hum!” coughed the old fellow. “They say climbing stairs is fineexercise—great for the complexion. But you don’t need anything toimprove your complexion, my dear—it couldn’t be improved.”

“’Ow kind you hare, sir!” she said, with a smothered laugh.

Dick was behind Brad, and he gave the Texan a pinch that caused him toutter a whoop.

“Ow, goodness!” cried the girl, in alarm.

“Don’t be frightened, my dear—don’t be frightened!” said Zenas quickly.“It’s only the boys.”

“Hit gave me ’art a hawful jump,” said the girl. “One gets frightenedterrible in this ’ouse.”

“Get frightened here? Why?”

“’Avent you ’eard, sir?”

“About what?”

“This place is ’aunted, you know.”

“Eh? Hey? Haunted, did you say?”

“Yes, sir; they do say it’s the spirit of Robin ’Ood hisself that come’ere, sir.”

“This is interesting—decidedly so!” said Zenas. “A haunted inn in theheart of Sherwood Forest! Why, I should think it would drive away customif such a report got out.”

“Hinstead of that, hit brings people ’ere to see the place, sir. Theyseem to take great hinterest in ’aunted ’ouses.”

She flung open the door of a room.

“’Ere is your rooms, sirs,” she said. “The fire is warm, and Hi ’ope youwill be very comfortable. Is there hany thing I can bring you?”

They entered the first room, in which the fire was burning. It wasfairly large and comfortable, with a big English bed, surrounded bycurtains.

“Wait a minute, my dear,” urged the professor. Then turning to the boys,he said:

“Here, you youngsters, take that candle on the mantel and inspect yourroom. The door is open, I see.”

Dick gave Brad a wink and picked up the candle, starting for theadjoining room. The maid had entered the first room and was waiting,candle in hand.

“You may go with Richard, Bradley,” said Zenas, seeing that Buckhartlingered behind.

“All right,” nodded the Texas youth.

As he stepped past the girl he gave a puff that extinguished the candlein her hand. Then he swiftly strode into the adjoining room, closing thedoor behind him.

Immediately the old professor began to call loudly for Dick and Brad toreturn.

“Come back here, you young rascals!” he shouted. “What are you up to,you scoundrels? Bring that candle instantly! How dare you do such athing—how dare you!”

“I’m so frightened!” fluttered the girl, catching hold of Zenas. “’Aveyou a match, sir? We might light the candle, sir.”

Dick opened the door and peered back into the room, discovering the girlclinging to the professor.

“Here! here!” he cried reprovingly. “What are you doing, Professor Gunn?You’re a married man. I didn’t think it of you! I didn’t think you wouldblow out the young lady’s candle and attempt to kiss her in the dark.It’s really scandalous! What would Mrs. Gunn say if she ever heard ofthis?”

“Oh, goodness! She’d have a fit!” confessed Zenas. “Bring that candleinstantly! How in the world did this candle happen to go out?”

“Oh, I think you know how it happened,” laughed Merriwell.

“On my word I don’t!” declared Gunn. “I believe that reprobate Buckhartdid it!”

“But he didn’t compel you to attempt to kiss the girl in the dark.”

“Oh, murder! I never touched her! She was frightened. She clung to mefor protection.”

“Oh, all right,” said Dick; but his tone and manner seemed to indicatethat he knew better and could not be fooled by such an explanation.

Zenas shook his fist at Dick in great excitement.

“If you dare hint that I was trying to kiss her, I’ll—I’ll—I’ll——”

He seemed unable to find words with which to complete the threat, and sohe turned to the maid, anxiously urging her to attest that he had donenothing of the sort.

Behind the professor’s back Dick winked and nodded at her, making signsshe understood.

“Why, sir,” she said, falling in with the joke, “Hi don’t hexactlysuppose you hactually meant to kiss me, sir; but——”

“There it is professor—there it is!” cried Dick, while Buckhart laughedaloud. “She confesses that you really did do it, although she tries toshield you by saying it was an accident.”

“She didn’t confess anything of the sort!” palpitated Zenas, actuallydancing in his excitement. “You’re twisting her language, you rascal!You’re perverting her meaning! You’re trying to ruin my reputation!”

“If she hadn’t said so with her own lips—the lips you tried to——”

“Stop it! stop it!” implored Zenas. “If you respect me in the least, Iimplore you to stop it! If you ever hint that such a thing happened, ifyou ever breathe a suggestion of it in the presence of my wife,I’ll——”

“Now, don’t threaten me,” said Dick reproachfully. “You know I’myour friend, and even though I have been saddened to know of yourdisreputable behavior, I’ll remain silent as the grave concerning it.Even though I may deplore your inclination to get gay with the girls,I’ll bury the black secret in my heart and never breathe a word of it toyour lovely, delicate and trusting wife.”

“Lovely! Delicate!” gasped the old pedagogue.

“Don’t say a word against her, sir!” exclaimed Dick, with a pretense ofrighteous indignation. “She remains at home and permits you to travelabroad for your health, little dreaming that, while she thus sacrificesherself for your sake, you are carrying on scandalously with everypretty girl you meet.”

Zenas threw up his hands in despair, the expression on his face being solaughable that Buckhart with difficulty kept himself from roaring.

“I didn’t dream you could say such things of me, Richard!” groaned theold man.

“And I didn’t dream you would cut up so among the girls. Of course, I’llkeep still about it, and Brad will never say a word, but still it mayleak out. It may get into the newspapers. You know there arerepresentatives of the yellow journals of America in London. They mayhear of it. It will make a breezy bit of scandal—a juicy morsel—forthem. How would this sound in one of their papers: ‘Professor Gunn GetsGay With the Girls. Giddy Old Chap, Traveling in England, Tickles theChambermaids——’”

With a genuine shriek of horror, Professor Gunn dropped on a chair.

“Stop! stop!” he yelled. “You’ll drive me to suicide!”

“But you know it may get into the papers,” Dick went on. “As I said,neither Brad nor myself will say anything about it.”

“Then how can it get out?”

“Why, the girl you tried to kiss may——”

“Never tried it—never!”

“Well, the girl who says you tried to kiss her——”

“Who says you did kiss her—by accident,” put in the boy from Texas.

“I stand corrected, and I accept the correction.” said Dick. “The girlwho says you did kiss her by accident may happen to speak of it to othertourists. She may mention your name. It’s not unlikely some of thosetourists may be newspaper men. If they are not, they may be friends ofnewspaper men. They may see an opportunity of making a good, spicy itemout of it. Oh, there are ways enough for it to get into the Americanpapers.”

“How can I prevent it?” groaned the tortured old fellow.

“Why, you might fix it with the girl,” answered Dick, again giving themaid a significant wink. “She’s a poor girl, but she’s honest andkind-hearted. She wouldn’t like to ruin you, and she’ll keep still—foran inducement.”

“Ow, Hi couldn’t think hof it——” began the girl.

Thinking she meant that she could not think of keeping still, Zenassprang to his feet, cold perspiration starting out on his pale face.

“I implore you! I beseech you!” he cried. “I’m an honorable man, and Ihold a position of trust and responsibility in America. If this thinggets into the American papers I’m ruined. Here, my dear girl, takethis—take it and remain silent—for my sake.”

Eagerly he thrust a pound note into her hand.

“Ow, you hare so kind, sir—so very kind, sir!” she tittered, bobbinghim a bow. “Hi’m ownly a poor girl, and Hi thank you for being sohawfully kind to me, sir. If there’s hanything Hi can do for you, sir,while you are ’ere——”

“You can,” said Zenas solemnly.

“You may depend hon me, sir. What is it?”

“Keep away from this room. Don’t come near it while I remain in thehouse. If you do these boys will see something further that is improper.Go at once. Every moment you remain adds to my peril. Go!”

“Very well, sir. Hi ’opes you ’ave a pleasant time while ’ere, sir. Hi’opes you henjoy your supper and your night’s rest, sir. Good night,sir.”

Bobbing a bow to each of them in turn, she smilingly left the room.

CHAPTER XI.—THE SPANIARD AGAIN.

“I don’t think you’re really to blame, professor,” said Dick. “Indeed, Ihave often wondered in the past how you succeeded in warding off theattacks of the fair sex, who are continually besieging you. No one is toblame if he happens to be attractive and fascinating to women.”

The old fellow brightened up a little.

“That’s nonsense, Richard,” he said. “Of course, there was a time whenthe girls did chase after me more or less, but that’s gone by.”

“You know better, professor. In these days girls are learning to admiremen of brains, and talent, and genius. You’ll have to be careful,professor. There’s something about you that fetches them every time.”

Zenas smiled.

“Do you think so?”

“I know it! I want to warn you for your own good. You’ll have to holdthem off. If we go to Paris, you’ll have to be on your guard. They’resure to throw themselves at you. Paris is full of pretty girls, theysay, and they’ll keep you ducking. If you were inclined to be frisky,you could have a score of handsome women chasing you.”

“He! he!” laughed Gunn. “That would be embarrassing, but it would berather exciting.”

He rose to his feet and threw out his chest.

“I don’t know but you are right,” he nodded. “Since crossing the pondI’ve noticed the ladies glancing my way and smiling on me. In Londonthey smiled at me, and in Scotland the Scottish girls were inclined togive me the eye. I used to be quite a chap with ’em, but since gettingmarried I’ve lived retired and kept away from ’em. I’ll have to look outor some of them will be trying to steal me.”

Buckhart turned a laugh into a severe fit of coughing.

“I’m afraid I’ve taken cold,” he barked.

By this time Dick had Professor Gunn thinking himself really a verycaptivating old chap with the ladies, and he began to tell how he hadfound it necessary to dodge them all his life.

“Stop it, pard!” whispered the boy from Texas. “If you don’t let up I’llsure give myself away to him.”

Thus adjured, Merriwell finally quit egging Zenas on, but he improved anopportunity to slip out of the room and leave the professor relatingsome of his experiences to Buckhart.

Dick descended to the lower rooms of the inn, entering the one to whichthey had first been ushered by the landlord.

A man in black clothes was half sitting, half reclining in a bigeasy-chair that was drawn up before before the fire. Evidently he hadbeen perusing a newspaper, over which, made drowsy by the warmth, he hadfallen asleep. The paper was spread over his face.

At one corner of the glowing open grate was another chair, and Dick satdown in this.

“A cool night, sir,” he observed, by way of being sociable.

The man did not stir. Evidently he was quite sound asleep.

Dick took from his pocket a tourist’s map and began examining it. Theold professor had stated that in a few days they would leave England forwarmer countries to the south, but their exact route had not yet beendecided on.

For ten minutes or more Dick studied the map closely, becoming quiteabsorbed in it. At last, although he had not heard a sound or observed amovement on the part of his companion, he was led to glance up quickly,feeling himself attracted by something.

The man in the easy-chair had permitted the newspaper to slip down justenough for him to peer over the upper edge of it.

Merriwell found himself looking straight into a pair of dark, magneticeyes, which were fixed on him with a steady, intent gaze. As those eyesmet Dick’s they did not waver or blink in the least, and thus the twosat perfectly still, Dick holding the map and having his head partlylifted, gazing at each other unwaveringly and in stony silence.

Almost instantly Dick knew he had seen those eyes before. There wassomething familiar about them. They gave the boy at first a queer,uncanny sensation, and something like a chill, followed by a tinglingflush of heat, passed over him.

A sense of danger came to Dick Merriwell. He seemed to feel theinfluence of a strange, subtle power. Directly he realized that thisunknown power emanated from those piercing dark eyes, and it seemed thatin his ear his guardian genius whispered an anxious warning.

Immediately the boy roused himself and brought his own firm will to thetask of combating the influence whose touch he had so distinctly felt.Summoning his spirit of resistance to the contest, he continued to watchthe eyes revealed above the edge of the newspaper.

Neither man nor boy moved a muscle. In dead silence they remained thus,watching each other like panthers about to spring.

The fire glowed warmly on the hearth and a great clock that stood in onecorner of the room ticked solemnly and regularly. Outside the wind rosein a great gust and swept with rushing sound through the branches of thetrees. Ghostly hands, like those of restless spirits seeking admissionfrom the darkness and the cold, rapped at the casement of a window.

Still the unknown man and the American lad sat motionless, gazing intoeach other’s eyes.

The unvaried ticking of the great clock began to sound loud as hammerstrokes.

Gradually Dick realized that he was obtaining the mastery. He had metand resisted the unknown influence the other was bringing to bear uponhim, and his determination was conquering the subtle power of thosemagnetic eyes.

He called into action all the force of will he could command, knowingthat he was defeating the object of the silent man before the fire.

Finally the man uttered a low exclamation of disappointment and anger,and the newspaper fell rustlingly from his face.

Dick sat face to face with Miguel Bunol!

“Curses on you!” hissed the Spanish youth. “Had you not looked up sosoon I would have succeeded.”

“Never!” retorted Dick. “It is not in you, Bunol, to conquer aMerriwell.”

“We shall see.”

“I should think you would know it by this time. What are you doinghere?”

“That is my business.”

“In which I am somewhat interested. How dare you show your face again?”

“Dare?” laughed the young Spaniard, harshly. “Did you think you couldfrighten me? Fool not yourself by such a fancy. I have a right to gowhere I choose, have I not?”

“You might find it unpleasant if you were to appear in the vicinity ofKinross, Scotland, about now. Of course you have a right to go there, ifyou choose, but you would be arrested if you did so.”

“We are not in Scotland, Merriwell. This is England and the heart ofSherwood Forest.”

“But the law is just as strong here as in Kinross. If Dunbar Budthornewere here he would——”

Bunol snapped his fingers contemptuously.

“He would do nothing at all. Had he sat before me, were he sitting thusnow, I’d have him powerless to disobey my command—I’d have him subjectto my every wish. I am his master, and he knows it.”

“Still at Lochleven you did not succeed in forcing him into yourdastardly scheme—you did not compel him to aid you in your plot tomarry his sister.”

“But for you, Merriwell, I should have succeeded. You ruined my plot.That very night, as I fled in a boat across the bleak bosom of the lake,I swore to turn my attention to you, and put you beyond the possibilityof baffling me again. Now you know why I am here. What will you do aboutit?”

The Spaniard asked the question mockingly. He was flinging defiance inthe teeth of the young American.

“You have selected a big task, Mig Bunol.”

“But I have sworn to succeed.”

“You will fail utterly and miserably.”

Bunol lifted one hand to caress the thin, black mustache upon his lip.

“That is what you believe,” he said; “but I know I shall not fail. AtFardale I hated you, but I forgot you after I left the school. Neveragain would I have given you a thought had you not crossed my path inLondon. You crossed it at a most unfortunate time for me, as then I wason the very verge of accomplishing my great object.”

“And that object was to ruin Dunbar Budthorne and to make his beautifulsister your wife.”

“I love her!”

“You love her! Never! You love nothing but your own selfish, villainousself, Bunol. You were interested in her, and fascinated by her, becauseof her beauty; but had she been a poor girl you would not have dreamedfor a moment of marrying her.”

“How wise you are!” sneered Miguel, shrugging his shoulders. “Even ifthat is so, what does it prove?”

“It proves that you are a fortune hunter of the lowest and mostcontemptible sort.”

“Is it such a crime to be a fortune hunter, as you call it? What are theruined and penniless noblemen of Europe who seek marriage with Americanheiresses?”

“You are not even in the class of those men, for, though they may becads, and snobs, and weaklings, and utterly lacking in manly qualities,few of them are downright scoundrels and desperadoes. At least, theyhave titles to give in return for the wealth their rich wives will bringthem; but you have nothing to give.”

“Yah!” snarled the Spaniard, showing his white, gleaming teeth. “You saythings that sting, but some day your tongue will be silent with death!”

“Your threats do not disturb me in the least, Bunol, for I am confidentthat I shall live to see you hanged, as you justly deserve to be. Bunol,your power is broken and your great scheme has come to naught. You mayas well seek other victims, for never again will your fingers handle adollar of Budthorne’s money.”

With a sneer on his dark face, the Spanish youth had listened toMerriwell’s words.

“It is a great wonder you think yourself!” he cried. “You think you havedefeated me. How little you know me, boy! Did you imagine you had thrownme off the track and would see me no more while abroad? I am here. FromEdinburgh you I followed to Glasgow, from Glasgow to Dublin, from Dublinto Manchester, Sheffield and here. I chose this spot to appear to youagain and to let you know I am on your track. All this time you haveknown nothing of it, and you have thought me frightened by what happenedin Scotland. While you remained in Scotland I did not care to appear, asI knew you would try to have me arrested.

“In Dublin there was no reason why I should make myself known, nor yetin Manchester or Sheffield. Here we are far from any town and in theheart of a forest. True, your friends are within call of your voice ifyou lift it; but I, too, have friends ready to spring in on us at asignal. My friends are all armed, and it is short work they would makeof two boys and a cowardly, withered old man. Ha! ha! Call, if you like!I am willing; I am ready. Utter a shout, and by the time your friendsget down to this room you will be lying on this hearth in your blood.”

“Are you trying to frighten me with such talk, Mig Bunol? You shouldknow by this time that I am not easily frightened. You say you havefollowed me. That is good. While you were doing so Dunbar Budthorne andhis sister were getting far beyond your reach. You have followed me inorder to be near when they joined us again. That is it!”

Dick laughed triumphantly, for he had stated the reason why Bunol had sopersistently dogged him about, and he felt that the fellow had beencompletely baffled.

Dick’s laughter caused Bunol to turn pale with rage. He saw that theyoung American regarded him with positive contempt. In Dick he had notaroused an atom of fear—nothing but aversion, scorn and contempt.

“You cannot fool me!” he snarled. “The Budthornes are not very far away.If you live, you will meet them soon. I shall be there.”

“Will you?”

“Yes! I know your cowboy friend has become deeply interested in Nadia,but—bah!—what is he? I can dispose of him so.” Bunol gave a carelessflirt of his hand.

“It’s plain enough you do not know the kind of stuff that Brad Buckhartis made of.”

“He is nothing but a blustering braggart.”

“He’s a fighter, every inch of him; fearless as a lion. It was hisbullet that pierced the shoulder of Rob MacLane, the outlaw, on the wallof Lochleven Castle, and sent him tumbling to the ground, where hiscareer ended with a broken neck, greatly to the relief of all honestpeople.”

“Still he is nothing but a blustering braggart, and any man of realcourage can become his master. I mind him not. It is you I have set myheart to conquer and crush, and then Buckhart will be disposed of withease.”

“How do you propose to carry out your little project with me?”

“Don’t think I’ll not find a way. If I chose, you’d never leave this innalive. You’d never rise from that chair, unless it were to drop dead onthis hearth!”

“If all this is true, why don’t you go about it?” cried Dick, his eyesflashing. “I’m watching you! I am waiting for you to begin!”

“I came here to force you to tell me where Nadia is.”

Once more Dick laughed.

“And you fancied you could succeed? You fancied you could force aMerriwell to do your bidding? Bunol, you are a greater fool than Ithought!”

“Oh, laugh, conceited idiot!” snarled the Spaniard. “You may be laughingin the face of death!”

“In some ways you are amusing, as well as disgusting. Now I know why yousat so still on that chair and pretended to sleep with the paper hidingyour face. Now I know why you permitted the paper to slip down until youcould peer over it. You have discovered that with your eyes and yourmind you can govern weaklings. Your success with Dunbar Budthorne causedyou to think you might hypnotize me, and force me to tell you where youcould find Nadia. You have failed. What will be your next move?”

“I have failed, and my next move may be to put you forever out of theway of causing me more trouble.”

“Begin!” was Dick’s challenge. “I am waiting! Do you fancy you can do italone? or will you call your paid ruffians to your assistance? CallDurbin! Call Marsh! Durbin has none too much courage, and Marsh is amiserable coward. I am here in this room alone. Call them to your aidand let’s have it out!”

“How bold you are!” sneered Bunol, again. “But it is not on such asDurbin and Marsh I depend alone. A closed carriage passed you on theroad shortly before you arrived here. I was in that carriage, and withme were men ready to cut your throat at a word of command from me.Should I give the signal they would come with a rush. Better be carefulwith that tongue of yours. If you do not arouse me too far, I may permityou to live yet a while longer; but in the end you shall die—and by myhand!”

Dick was becoming tired of the talk. He had fancied some one might enterthe room, either the landlord or the friends he had left upstairs. Now,of a sudden, he heard a sound of heavy knocking coming from the upperpart of the inn, as if some one were pounding furiously on a door.

“Your friends are growing impatient,” said Bunol. “They wish to get out,it seems.”

“Wish to get out?”

“Yes; they are locked in their rooms. One of my men attended to thatafter you left them, I presume. I gave orders to keep Buckhart and theold man away in case I found an opportunity to meet you face to face.But the place will be disturbed by the racket they are making. I hopeyou enjoy your supper here and your night’s rest. I’m sorry to say Ihave decided to leave you. It might be disagreeable if your party andmine were to remain beneath the same roof.”

Bunol started to rise from his chair, as if to depart.

Instantly, without warning and with a great bound, Dick reached theSpaniard and clutched him.

“Wait a minute!” he exclaimed. “Don’t be in such a hurry to go.”

With a furious exclamation, Bunol flashed out a knife and struck at theboy’s throat a blow that was much like a streak of lightning as thesteel glinted in the gleaming firelight—a blow impelled by deadlyhatred and murderous impulse.

CHAPTER XII.—THE STRUGGLE.

At times Professor Gunn became very garrulous, and on such occasions heinvariably insisted that either Dick or Brad should listen to him. Ifboth refused, he was mortally offended.

When Brad saw Dick had slipped away and left him with the old man hefeared what was coming, and tried to edge toward the door; but Zenaspromptly called him back, urged him to sit down, placed a chair beforethe open fire, and sat down himself.

“Now we’re comfortable and cozy,” said the old man. “Now we can chat,Bradley. I have a few things I wish to say to you. I have some advice Iwish to give you, my boy.”

Buckhart smothered a groan.

“Won’t it keep until after supper, professor?” he asked.

“No, sir. I’ve been waiting for an opportunity to speak with you alone,and this is the time. I have taken note that you are greatly interestedin Miss Budthorne. Now, you are young—far too young to fall seriouslyin love. Wait, sir; let me speak. I am doing this as a father. Indeed, Ifeel that while we are traveling together I must practically fill theposition of father to you. You have some faults. I had faults when I wasof your age. I wish to tell you a story, and at the end I will indicatethe lesson it teaches.”

Zenas then began a long-winded series of reminiscences about himself andhis boyish love affair, to which Brad was forced to listen, littledreaming that in a room below Dick Merriwell and his enemy, MiguelBunol, were sitting face to face, watching each other with eyes thatnever wavered.

Only for Professor Gunn’s determination to talk Buckhart would haveattempted to leave the room long before he did, and would have made asurprising and annoying discovery that came to him later when he triedthe door.

“Whatever’s the matter with this old door?” exclaimed the Texan, when hefound it refused to open before his hand.

“Perhaps it sticks,” suggested Zenas.

“Sticks—nothing!” growled Brad.

“Then what——”

“It’s locked!”

“Locked?”

“Sure as shooting.”

“It can’t be.”

“I opine I know when a door is locked,” said the Texan; “and this yeredoor is locked tight and fast.”

“How could it happen? I’m sure there is not a spring lock on the door.”

“Not at all, professor. I wonder some if this is one of Dick’s tricks. Iwonder if he locked us in here?”

“Why should he do that?”

Brad did not explain that he fancied it possible Dick had done so inorder to compel him to listen to the old man’s lecture.

“Wonder if there’s no other way to get out,” he growled. “Mebbe the doorto the next room is not locked.”

He hurried into the adjoining room, but found, to his furtherdisappointment and disgust, that the door leading from that room waslikewise locked.

When Brad returned he began hammering on the door in earnest.

“Look out!” cried Zenas. “You’ll knock a panel out!”

“That’s what I sure will do!” roared the Texan. “I’ll certain bu’st ahinge off if Dick doesn’t hike this way and open things up.”

“Perhaps he didn’t lock the door.”

“Then whoever did? That’s what I’d like to know.”

A sudden thought flashed through Buckhart’s head. What if this lockingthem in was a trick to keep them away while an attack of some sort wasmade on Merriwell?

“I can pay for the door,” he muttered; “and I certain ain’t going tokeep still when there may be deviltry of some sort going on.”

Then he backed off a few steps and made a rush and a spring, flinginghis shoulder against the door, with the whole weight of his body behind.

The door burst open with a crash. Brad stumbled out into the hall,nearly falling, but quickly recovering his feet.

As he did so a significant cry came to his ears, proceeding from thelower part of the building.

In another moment he was bounding recklessly down the dark flight ofstairs.

In the meantime, Dick was having his hands full with the treacherousSpaniard. Bunol had whipped out his knife with astonishing swiftness andhad struck a deadly blow at the boy’s throat.

Quick as he was, however, either Merriwell anticipated the movement orhe was quicker, for he dodged and clutched the wrist of his enemy at thesame time.

Bunol uttered a low exclamation of disappointed rage, attempting towrench his knife hand free.

“No you don’t!” exclaimed Dick, holding fast with a grip of iron. “Youmurderous dog! This ought to be enough to put you behind bars, and Ithink I’ll see that you go there for a while.”

“You’ll never put me there!” palpitated the Spanish youth.

In the struggle to break away from Dick he dragged the boy back andstruck against the chair on which he had been sitting, nearly falling tothe floor.

“Furies!” he panted.

For a few moments in the first heat of the encounter Bunol possessedamazing strength, and he kept Dick busy on the defensive, but it was notlong before the boy tripped his antagonist and flung him heavily.

The knife flew from Bunol’s hand as he fell, clanging on the stonehearth, to lie gleaming in the glow of the open grate.

Although Dick had thrown the Spaniard, he found Bunol much like an eelto hold. The fellow slipped and squirmed, almost instantly writhing frombeneath the American lad.

As the two started up and Dick reached to again clutch his enemy, thelandlord came rushing into the room. His eyes falling on the combatants,he paused a second, aghast.

“What does this mean?” he cried.

Brad Buckhart was not a second behind the landlord, and his eyesrecognized Miguel Bunol instantly.

A roar broke from his lips.

“Mig Bunol!” he shouted.

But when he sprang to take a hand in the conflict, the strong arm of thelandlord blocked him off and flung him back, while that worthy againdemanded to know what it all meant.

“Don’t stop me!” snarled the Texan, his face pale with excitement andrage. “Let me get my paws on that varmint! I sure will have his scalp!”

“Keep him away!” cried Bunol to the landlord. “They are ruffians androbbers! This one tried to rob me right here!”

Although Dick had again grasped the Spaniard, the latter once moresquirmed from his fingers and managed to recover his feet. Instantly hesprang toward the hearth, on which his deadly knife lay shining brightlyin the light.

Dick had no thought of letting the fellow again get that weapon in hishand. Knowing he had saved his life only by the narrowest possiblemargin, he now launched himself from a half-crouching position at theSpaniard, hurling the fellow aside and against the wall.

“Stand there!” thundered Buckhart.

In Glasgow Brad had purchased a revolver. This weapon he now had in hishand, and its muzzle was turned toward Bunol.

“Stand there, or by the everlasting Rockies, I’ll bore you in yourtracks!” declared the Texan.

Dick quickly snatched up Bunol’s knife.

The Spaniard stood at bay, his black eyes gleaming and his breast risingand falling with his panting breathing. He was like a ferocious wildanimal that had fallen into a trap.

“See, landlord!” he cried. “Now they are ready to murder me!”

“I’ll have none of this in my house!” grated the innkeeper, and heunhesitatingly placed himself in front of Buckhart, who was thusprevented from using his weapon in case he wished to do so.

Dick took a step toward Bunol.

The Spanish youth saw his opportunity. He did not wait for Merriwell toagain lay hands on him. Instead of that, with two pantherish bounds hecrossed the floor, and another bound carried him, doubled into a compactball, straight at a window.

There was a great crashing and jangling of glass as the desperate youngvillain shot through the window, carrying out sash and panes.

CHAPTER XIII.—PROFESSOR GUNN’S WILD RIDE.

Strange and unusual things were happening at Robin Hood Tavern thatnight. Perhaps not since the days of the famous outlaw himself had suchblood-stirring events happened on that particular spot.

Professor Gunn held up his hands in consternation as the impetuous youngTexas hurled himself crashing through the door.

“Dear me! dear me!” gasped Zenas. “What a boy! what a boy! Impossible torestrain him! Impossible to refine him! Sometimes he acts like otherpeople, but at other times——Eh? What’s that?”

The old pedagogue heard the cry that caused Brad to gather himself andgo bounding recklessly down the dark stairs.

“Sounded peculiar!” whispered Zenas, listening at the door. “I don’tlike it! I fear something is wrong!”

Then he heard excited voices rising from below and distinctly understoodBuckhart to shout the name of Bunol.

“Bunol!” gurgled the old man. “That scoundrel! That miserable villain!Is he here? Can it be possible?”

Something stirred in a dark corner of the hall. He saw the thing moveand cried out:

“Who’s there? What are you doing? What do you want?”

There were two of them. They came out of the darkness swiftly and wereupon him in a moment. Over their faces they wore masks, and theprofessor gave a cry of dismay as he saw a pistol in the hand of one ofthem. The weapon was pointed at Zenas, and the man who held it growled:

“Better keep still, guvner! If you raise a noise we’ll ’ave to shootyou, and we don’t want to do hanything like that.”

“Robbers!” whispered the old man. “This place is a den of thieves! We’llall be robbed and murdered here!”

Had the door not been broken he might have tried to close and hold itagainst them, but now he was totally defenseless.

“Don’t shout, don’t speak, don’t heven whisper!” commanded the man withthe pistol.

“All right,” said Zenas, disobeying the order. “I won’t make a noise.Take my money! I haven’t much. Be careful with that deadly weapon! Itmight go off by accident!”

They entered the room, while the commotion below continued.

“Hif you’re sensible, guvner,” said the one with the pistol, “you’ll getoff with an ’ole skin; but hif you’re foolish Hi’m afraid you’ll get’urt.”

“Don’t waste time in talk, pal!” growled the other fellow. “We’ve got tomove lively.”

“Here’s my purse,” said Zenas, holding it out. “Take it—take it andgo!”

One of the men took it, but at the same time he said:

“We wants you to take a little walk with us, guvner. Now you ’adn’tbetter refuse, for we’ll ’ave to shoot you hif you do. Don’t hask hanyquestions, but move and move in a ’urry. Right out of the door, guvner.March!”

They grasped him by the arms and he was unceremoniously hustled throughthe broken door. He thought they were going to take him toward the frontstairs, but they forced him falteringly along a dark and narrow passage,coming to another flight of stairs at the back of the house, which theydescended.

“What are you going to do?” whispered the agitated old man.

“Shut hup!” growled the fellow with the pistol. “Hif you hopen your ’eadhagain Hi’ll ’ave to shoot you.”

In the darkness they passed through a room at the back of the house andcame to a door that let them out into the open air. The stars wereshining brightly through the leaf-denuded branches of the trees.

Just as they reached the open air there was a crashing and jangling ofbroken glass at the front of the house.

The starlight showed Zenas that a pair of horses had been attached tothe closed carriage he had observed standing near the building. A manwas standing at the head of the horses. Another man was perched on thedriver’s seat, holding the reins.

The man who had hold of Gunn now rushed him without loss of time to thecarriage, the door of which was standing open. Without regard for hisfeelings, they lifted him bodily and pitched him into the vehicle.

He bumped his head and uttered a cry of pain and fear.

One of the men sprang in and perched upon his body. The other manfollowed. A whip cracked like a pistol, and with a jerk the carriagestarted.

“Pull in his legs, pal!” exclaimed the man astride Zenas. “You can’tclose the door unless you pull in his legs.”

“Blawst ’is blooming legs!” came from the other man. “Make ’im pull ’emhup.”

“Pull up your feet, old man!” commanded the one who was holdingZenas—“pull them up, if you don’t want to lose the top of your head!”

“I’m a dead man!” groaned the old professor. “This is the end of me!”

He pulled up his legs, and the carriage door was closed at last.

While this was taking place the carriage had whirled out from the forestinn into the highway, with the horses at a dead run. Persons rushingfrom the inn were startled and astonished, but they gave their attentionto the search for Miguel Bunol, who had lately leaped through one of thewindows of Robin Hood’s Tavern.

Zenas Gunn gave himself up for lost.

“Never thought I’d come to such an untimely end,” he moaned. “Why did weever visit Sherwood Forest?”

Suddenly he became frantic and began to shout for help. Three times hedid this before the man astride of him could do anything to prevent it.

“For ’Eaven’s sake smother ’im!” burst from the other man.

The fellow holding Gunn down got him by the throat and quickly checkedthe cries.

But those cries had been heard by both Dick Merriwell and Brad Buckhart.

The carriage bounced, and swayed, and rumbled over the forest road.

It was a terrible experience for Professor Gunn. The old fellow believedhe had fallen into the hands of robbers, who were carrying him off withthe idea of holding him for ransom.

Suddenly something happened. Some portion of the harness on one of thehorses became unfastened, and the driver was compelled to pull up assoon as possible. He sprang down from the seat and made haste to fix theharness.

The horses had been excited and fretted by the manner in which they werewhipped at the very outset. As the driver came alongside one of them theanimal snorted, shied and sprang against its mate. The other horse gavea leap, and a second later both animals were running away.

The driver was jerked off his feet and dragged some distance. He clungto the reins, vainly endeavoring to hold the terrified creatures, butfinally his hold relaxed and the animals raced on unguided, their fearsseeming to increase as they ran.

At first the two ruffians inside did not realize what had happened, butsoon they began to suspect that everything was not quite right.

“’E’s drivin’ ’orrid reckless, pal,” said the one with the cockneydialect. “’E’ll ’ave us hupset hif ’e don’t look hout.”

The carriage rocked and swayed, flinging its three occupants from sideto side. At a sharp turn of the road it snapped round on two wheels,threatening to go over. Once the hub of a rear wheel struck the trunk ofa tree and the carriage was flung violently to one side.

It was now the turn of Professor Gunn’s captors to be alarmed.

“What’s he trying to do, get us all killed?” palpitated the one who hadbeen holding the old pedagogue, but who was now occupied in taking careof himself, which was no small matter.

“Hi believe the ’orses are running haway,” said the other.

“Can’t the thundering fool hold them?”

“’E don’t seem hable to.”

Then they began shouting to the driver, but as there was no driver onthe seat, they received no reply.

Down a hill and over a stone bridge went the runaway team. The hoofs ofthe horses clattered on the frozen ground and the wheels made a rumblingroar like sullen thunder. The woods echoed with these sounds.

Professor Gunn managed to sit up and drag himself upon a cushioned seatin a corner of the carriage. The curtain at the glass window was up, andoutside the old man saw the trees flying past.

With his heart in his mouth, Zenas waited for the termination of thatwild night ride, yet dreaded what it might be.

The ruffians were frightened indeed now. One of them succeeded inopening the door and shouted again and again to the man he supposed washolding the reins. The carriage swept close to a tree, the trunk ofwhich struck the door and slammed it shut, driving the man’s headthrough the glass, which was shattered, and cut him in a manner thatbrought blood copiously.

The man was dazed. He fell back on Zenas, who thrust him off.

“The ’orses hare running haway and there is no driver!” cried thecockney.

Suddenly Professor Gunn was seized with a feeling of revengeful joy. Heknew the men were frightened, and a singular sort of courage came uponhim.

“Serves you right, you villains!” he shrilly shouted. “I’m glad of it! Ihope they run until they smash everything into a million pieces!”

“Ain’t there any way of stoppin’ them, pal?” questioned one of theruffians.

“No, Hi don’t believe there is.”

“Let them run! let them run!” laughed Zenas wildly. “You brought it onyourselves! It’s good enough for you! Going to carry me off and hold mefor ransom, were you? This is what you get! I hope you enjoy it!”

“Shut up, you old fool!”

“I won’t shut up! You can’t shut me up! Ha! ha! ha! Let them run! letthem run!”

Suddenly, with a fearful shock, one of the forward wheels struck someobstruction. The carriage careened into the air and over it went, beingflung from the road and fairly against a sturdy tree. The horses torethemselves free from the ruined vehicle and continued their mad flightalong the forest road.

The wrecked carriage lay overturned by the roadside, and from itsshattered ruins came no sound to tell whether its occupants were livingor dead.

CHAPTER XIV.—AN EXCITING CHASE.

The landlord of the Robin Hood had prevented Brad Buckhart from taking aflying shot at Miguel Bunol as the reckless young desperado leapedthrough the window. Had the Texan fired, being a wonderfully good shot,it is probable he would have “winged” the Spaniard, at least.

At the destruction of the window the excited landlord threw up his handsin despair.

The whole house was in an uproar. One or two frightened men came andpeered into the room where the encounter had taken place, while thecries of frightened women could be heard coming from other parts of thebuilding.

“What do you mean by such actions in my place?” shouted the enraged andexasperated landlord, turning on Dick and Brad.

“We’re not responsible any,” retorted Buckhart. “Whatever made you getin my way and keep me from salting that ornery Spaniard good andplenty?”

“Out and after him!” cried Dick. “Don’t let him get away!”

“He’ll have to pay for that window!” yelled the landlord.

Then Dick led the rush from the inn. The door was thrown open, and theyran out beneath the stars.

They were just in time to see the closed carriage, with both horses at adead run and the driver mercilessly plying the whip, whirl out of theyard, turn to the right and go clattering and rattling away on thefrozen road.

A moment later a horseman shot past the opposite corner of the buildingand turned to the left.

As he passed the windows from which the light was shining the Texancaught a glimpse of him.

“There goes the galoot hot foot!” he roared, and flung up his hand toshoot.

It was Dick who now grasped his arm and prevented him from firing.

“Steady, Brad!” cried Merriwell. “You don’t want the blood of that dogon your hands!”

“I certain would like to know why!” retorted the excited Texan. “Itwould give me a heap of pleasure to bore him for keeps!”

“Let him go and——”

Dick stopped, for from the rattling carriage which had already vanishedbeneath the great tress that lined the road came wild cries for help,which were suddenly broken and checked.

“Great horn spoon!” palpitated the Texan. “Did hear that, pard?”

“I did, and it certainly sounded like the voice of Professor Gunn!”

“Just what I thought. You don’t opine——”

But already Dick was rushing back into the inn, and Brad quicklyfollowed him. Up the stairs they leaped, assailed by a new feeling offear.

The broken door of the professor’s room hung on a single hinge, just asthe Texan had left it. The light of the glowing fire and of a singlecandle showed them the comfortable interior of that room, but they sawnothing of Zenas Gunn.

“Professor——Professor Gunn!” called Dick.

“Where are you? Answer me—answer at once!”

But there was no answer.

“Search, Brad!” urged Dick. “He may have been alarmed by the uproar andconcealed himself. Look on the bed behind those curtains! Look under thebed! Look everywhere!”

Even as he was urging his friend to do this Dick flung open the door ofa wardrobe and looked within. Then he caught up the candle and hastenedinto the adjoining room, looking in every nook and corner, meanwhilecontinuing to call to Gunn.

A few moments later the two boys met in the first room and stood face toface, staring into each other’s eyes.

“Where is he, partner?”

“Gone!” said Dick. “Brad, that was the game!”

“I don’t just rightly see how——”

“First Bunol was to be given a chance at me. If he failed, the professorwas to be captured and carried off. He was in that closed carriage!”

“Sure as shooting!”

“Come!”

The flushed, wild-eyed, excited landlord appeared in the door andattempted to check them, demanding why they had turned his house into aBedlam.

Dick swept him aside.

“No time to explain now!” he declared. “We’ll explain to you later.”

The boys rushed downstairs once more, out of the inn and round to thestable. A hostler demanded to know what had happened.

“Hi’d like to ’ave you tell me what it’s hall habout!” he said. “Why didthe gentlemen ’ave their ’osses taken hout and then ’ave them ’itched inhagain in such an hawful ’urry?”

They seized him and demanded to know where their own horses were. Theirmanner frightened him.

“Those men were ruffians, and they must be caught,” said Dick. “Help usget our horses to pursue them. If you don’t you may be taken as theaccomplice of the scoundrels. It’s worth a pound note to you, my man, ifyou get our horses out instantly and provide us with bridles for them.”

This inducement led the hostler to move quickly. He found the bridlesand brought out the horses. The boys lost not a second in helping bridlethe animals. At the same moment, it seemed, both flung themselvesastride the beasts. A cowboy yell broke from the lips of the Texan—ayell that sent his mount bounding forward with surprise and fear. Dicksmote his horse with his open hand, which fell with a pistol-like crackon the animal’s rump.

“Hold on!” shouted the hostler. “Where is that pound note you said Ishould ’ave?”

He ran after them, but neither of the boys paused a moment to respond,and quickly they vanished down the dark road that turned away beneaththe great trees to the right. Back to his ears came the clatter of hoofson the roadbed, receding and growing fainter in the distance.

Both boys were ready for any emergency as they galloped mile after milealong that road.

Twice they passed branching roads, but chose to stick by the principalhighway, although it was impossible to say that they were following theright course by doing so.

“It’s more than even, pard,” said the Texan, “that the onery varmintsturned off on one of those other roads. We’re going her a whole lot onpure luck.”

“We have to,” said Dick.

Down a hill and over a bridge they flew. By this time the horses werebreathing heavily and beginning to perspire. Their breath whistledthrough their nostrils and they would have slackened the pace had theybeen permitted.

On and on until at last, descending yet another hill, they came upon thewrecked carriage lying in a splintered heap by the roadside.

They flung themselves from their nearly exhausted horses, the creatureswillingly stopping and standing with hanging heads and heaving flanks.

“Whatever happened here, pard?” cried Brad.

“Smash up,” answered Dick. “Must have been a runaway and a bad one,too.”

Amid the ruins of the carriage they found a man lying ominously still.

“Is it the professor?” whispered Buckhart, fearfully.

Together they dragged away some of the debris, and then Dick struck amatch. The mask that had hidden the face of the man was covered withblood and partly torn away. His face was badly cut.

“Luke Durbin!” shouted the boy from Texas, as Merriwell fully removedthe bloody mask and held the match with the reflected light flung fromthe hollow of his hands.

“That’s who it is,” said Dick.

“And I opine he’s cashed in. This was the end of the racket for him.”

Dick struck another match.

“See!” he exclaimed, as the light of this second match fell on Durbin’smutilated face. “He’s not dead!”

The eyelids of the man fluttered and his eyes opened. A groan came fromhis lips.

“It’s some rough,” said the Texan; “but you’ve got only yourself toblame for being here.”

The man’s bloody lips moved and he sought to speak, but the husky soundshe uttered could not be understood.

“Durbin,” said Dick, “your pals have left you here to die. Did you aidthem in capturing and carrying off Zenas Gunn?”

Another painful effort to speak resulted in nothing that could beunderstood.

“Tell me the truth,” urged Dick. “You can see how they deserted you. Whyshould you shield them? Did you carry off the old professor? Can’t youanswer? If you would say yes, close your eyes and open them again.”

Slowly the wretch closed and opened his eyes.

“Where is he? Where have they taken him?”

It was impossible for Durbin to answer in words.

The boys lifted him and lay him on the cold ground by the roadside.

“I judge he’s mighty near gone, partner,” whispered Brad. “It’s bad wehave to lose time like this. We ought to be doing something for theprofessor.”

“We can’t leave this man to die here alone like a dog, no matter how badhe has been.”

“He sure has got what was coming to him.”

“But he’s a human being. Think of leaving any human creature to die herein such a manner!”

“Think of Professor Gunn!”

“If we find out without delay what has happened to the professor andwhere he has been taken, we must learn it through this man. In case heknows—which is pretty certain—he may tell everything if he finds he isgoing to die.”

“That’s correct, Dick. You’re always the long-headed one. But if hecan’t talk, how are we going to learn anything from him?”

“If we had a stimulant or restorative of some sort——”

“Liquor?”

“Yes; as a medicine liquor is all right when properly used. As abeverage it is poisonous.”

Although Dick fully believed in temperance, he was not a crank, and heknew that liquor had its good uses, although almost invariably it wasput to a bad use.

“But we haven’t a drop of the stuff. What can we do?”

“Is there no way for us to get him back to the Robin Hood?”

“How’ll we make the riffle, partner?”

Dick meditated a moment. As he did so, both lads heard in the distancethe sound of hoofbeats and the rumble of wheels, telling them that acarriage was approaching at a rapid pace.

“Somebody else driving a heap hard, Dick,” said the Texan. “Perhaps moretrouble is coming.”

“We’ll have to be ready for anything. If it’s some one we do not know,we’ll appeal to him to take this man in and carry him back to the inn.”

They waited, Buckhart producing his pistol, while Dick led the horsesaside beneath a tree.

Back along the road a short distance there was an opening among thetrees, and soon the carriage, drawn by a single horse, came rumblingthrough this star-lighted spot.

Dick joined Brad.

“We’ll have to stop it, even if we scare the driver out of his wits,” hesaid.

The boys stepped into the road and called to the driver. Immediately aman rose up in the carriage and cried:

“Who are you? Have you seen anything of two boys on horses, riding as ifpursued by Old Nick himself?”

“We’re the boys, I fancy,” confessed Dick. “You’re Mr. Swinton, of RobinHood’s Tavern.”

It was the landlord, and he jumped out in a hurry when he found he hadovertaken Dick and Brad.

“Look here, you chaps,” he cried, “don’t you think you can upset myhouse, smash windows and doors and run away without paying the damages!I’m an honest man, and what’s happened to-night at my place may ruin me.I demand damages, and you’ll have to pay ’em.”

“All right,” said Dick quietly. “Although we’re not responsible for thethings that have happened, we’ll pay a reasonable damage charge if youpromptly take into your carriage and carry to the inn a man who has beenseriously injured here and may be dying. I’ll pay you for your troublewith him, too.”

Although still suspicious and doubtful, the landlord was somewhatmollified.

“How did it happen?” he asked, as he stooped and peered down at theinjured man.

“There’s the carriage,” explained Brad, “smashed a whole lot. I opinethey had a runaway. Don’t waste time in asking other questions. Time ispowerful precious to-night, and every minute counts.”

The injured wretch groaned as they raised him and placed him in thecarriage, which the driver had already turned about. The driver provedto be the hostler, who reminded Dick that he had not received the poundnote promised him.

“I’ll pay you as soon as we get back to the tavern,” was the promise.“Had no time to do it before.”

Before starting on the return, Dick made another examination of theinjured man to see if his wounds were so serious that he might bleed todeath on the way, but found that the cold air had caused the blood tocongeal, and that there was no danger from the source feared.

Mounted and riding close behind the carriage, the boys turned theirfaces toward the inn, their hearts heavy in their bosoms, for theuncertainty of the fate that had befallen Professor Gunn oppressed them.

“For all of the accident and the smash-up,” said Dick, “Bunol’s game tocarry off the professor has succeeded.”

“That’s right,” agreed Brad. “But why should he do anything like that? Iconfess it puzzles me up a plenty.”

“Recall his little trick at Lochleven.”

“That was some different. By getting hold of Dunbar Budthorne he hopedto force Nadia into a marriage with him. He reckoned that, to save herbrother, she might hitch with him.”

“You don’t think he counts on murdering Zenas Gunn, do you, partner?”

“No; had he intended to murder the professor he would not have gone toso much trouble to capture him and run him off. The men who did thatcould have finished the old man in his room at the tavern while we werehaving our little racket with Bunol below. Bunol knows the strength ofthe law and fears it. He’s none too good or too timid to commit acold-blooded murder, but he fears the consequences of such an act.To-night he told me he has dogged us everywhere since we left Kinross.We did succeed in fooling him by helping Budthorne and his sister to getaway secretly. Having lost track of Nadia, Bunol has followed us,believing we would join the Budthornes sooner or later.

“Of late he has been growing impatient. Finding we contemplated visitingNewstead Abbey and the haunts of Robin Hood, he decided to strike a blowhere in this forest. Some of his spies must have learned from ourconversation and inquiries that we meant to remain overnight at RobinHood’s Inn. Having learned that much Bunol acted swiftly. Durbin waswith him, and probably Marsh. He must have secured the aid of ruffianswho were familiar with this part of the country. He had an idea that,could he meet me face to face and quite alone, he might exercise hisnewly discovered hypnotic powers on me, and this he tried to doto-night. But I know something about hypnotism myself, and I was able tocombat him and defeat him on his chosen ground.

“He had prepared for defeat, having instructed his ruffianly tools tocapture and carry off Professor Gunn, whom he knew to be timid, old, andincapable of making serious resistance. Through threats of what he maydo to the professor he hopes to bring me to my knees. It is his objectto conquer us now, Brad, for he is sure he can accomplish his designs onthe Budthornes, once he can place us beyond interfering and bafflinghim. Without doubt he will threaten and frighten Zenas into telling himwhere to find Nadia Budthorne. I do not fear that he will seriouslyinjure the old professor, unless Zenas was injured in the runaway andsmash-up.”

“But Nadia!” cried Brad. “If he forces the professor to tell where Nadiamay be found——”

“We’ll lose no time in sending a warning message to the Budthornes. Thenit will be a race between us and Miguel Bunol out of England, across theChannel and down into sunny Italy. But Bunol will seek to baffle anddelay us.”

“How?”

“By keeping Zenas Gunn a prisoner somewhere, knowing we’ll not leaveEngland until we have found and freed him.”

“Great tarantulas! I reckon you’re right, partner! You’re a whole lotlong-headed, and you have tumbled to his game. Whatever can we do?”

“We must beat him at that game.”

“Elucidate how.”

“This runaway and smash-up was something not reckoned on by Bunol.”

“Certain not.”

“Durbin was left for dead.”

“No doubt of it.”

“If Durbin lives long enough to talk, we may induce him to tell us whereZenas Gunn is to be kept a prisoner.”

“I sure hope so.”

“Then it will be our business to waste no time in finding the professorand setting him free. After that the race for Italy will begin.”

Buckhart was greatly stirred up over the prospect.

“If we permit that Spaniard to get ahead of us, pard, I’ll certain feellike committing suicide some!” he cried. “You made a big mistake whenyou kept me from taking a crack at him with my gun as he went whoopingaway from the Robin Hood. If I had bored him——”

“We should have been arrested and compelled to stand trial. It is truewe might have been acquitted; but shooting a human being, even though itmay be a dastardly dog like Bunol, is mighty bad business, and I don’tbelieve you wish, any more than I do, to stain your hands with humanblood.”

“I punctured Rob MacLane at Lochleven.”

“But it was only a flesh wound in the shoulder, and the authorities, whoseemed relieved and pleased over the death of the Strathern outlaw,decided that the cause of his death was not the bullet wound, but camefrom a broken neck received when he fell from Lochleven Castle.”

“All the same,” muttered the Texan, in a low tone, “I don’t opine he’dtaken that fall if I hadn’t fired at him. I saw he was going to murderAaron by flinging him over, and I didn’t falter any at all in shooting.My conscience hasn’t troubled me much.”

“But with Bunol mounted on a horse and trying to escape from us, theaspect of the case would have seemed different. At least, that is theway I looked at it.”

“I suppose you’re right, partner, for you’re right as a rule ten timesout of ten; but I’m powerful afraid Bunol will get a start on us now.”

“We’ll do our best to baffle him at his game,” said Dick. “This accidentthat befell Luke Durbin may enable us to defeat the Spaniard.”

“At the same time, it’s mighty sure to put Durbin out of the running,even if he doesn’t die, for I judge he’s badly busted up, and he won’tbe so frisky and troublesome in future.”

“But for Bunol, Durbin never would have been a hard man to check. Bunolis reckless to the point of madness. He has resolved to possess NadiaBudthorne and her money——”

“But by the stars above us I swear he never shall!” cried the Texanfiercely.

When they reached Robin Hood’s Tavern once more, the boys, assisted bySwinton, lifted the injured man, who was still alive, and carried himinside, where he was placed on a bed.

“How far is it to the nearest doctor?” asked Dick. “This man is badlyinjured, and he must have medical treatment, if he does not die before adoctor can be brought.”

“It’s good ten miles,” said the landlord.

“Send a man for a physician without delay,” directed Dick. “I will payall expenses.”

“It’s easy enough for you to say so,” returned the doubting keeper ofthe inn; “but I have not yet seen the color of your money, and my doorsand windows have been smashed, the people in the house, including mywife, nearly frightened to death, and the reputation of the placeruined. What have I done that all this misfortune should be heaped uponme?”

“Would you see this man die for want of medical attention?”

“How do I know what will follow before morning? There may be furthertrouble here. Besides myself I have but two men about the place, and Imust keep them to protect the ladies.”

“You will send a man for a doctor,” said Dick, sternly. “Here, I havemoney to pay. Tell me what your bill is for the broken door and window,and it will be settled—unless you make it exorbitant. Tell me how muchit will cost to dispatch a man on a horse for the doctor, and I will paythat, too.”

At sight of the boy’s money the landlord immediately became quite humbleand obliging. He started to ramble in his statement concerning thedamage done, saying no money could pay him for the injury to the goodname of the house; but Merriwell cut him short, asserting he wouldsettle that matter after he had seen the man start to bring a physician.

Within a short time the hostler was dispatched on a good horse, withinstructions not to return under any condition without the neededphysician.

“I feel better about that now,” confessed Dick. “I wouldn’t see my worstenemy in the condition of Durbin without doing what I could for him.”

The injuries the man had received about the face were washed and dressedby Dick himself, while Durbin was given a little whisky, which seemed torevive him, although it was apparent to all that he might die within thehour.

Having done whatever he could to make the man comfortable, Merriwell satdown beside the bed and talked to him. At first it seemed that Durbinstill remained unable to speak, but his wandering eyes gazed at Dickpathetically, as if he could not quite understand the boy.

“Durbin,” said Dick, “I’m sorry for you; but you must know that youbrought this upon yourself, and you cannot blame any one else.”

The man moved his head the least bit from side to side.

“Your bones do not seem to be broken,” the boy went on; “but yourcondition indicates that you are seriously—probably fatally—injured.You may not live an hour; you may die within ten minutes. You had a handin carrying off Zenas Gunn. It was Bunol’s plot, but it is likely youknow that rascal’s plans. The least you can do now is to tell me wherethe professor has been taken. For the sake of your own conscience, atleast, you should tell.”

The man was silent.

“You were deserted by your pals and left to die alone by the roadside. Ihave taken trouble to have you brought here, and I’ve sent for a doctor.In return for this will you not tell me the one thing I want to know?Where has Bunol taken Zenas Gunn?”

The injured man’s lips parted, an expression of great effort anddistress came into his eyes, but the only sounds he uttered were a fewpainful gasps.

“Can’t you speak?” asked Dick.

Again that faint rocking motion of the head from side to side.

“I don’t opine he’ll ever speak again, pard,” whispered Buckhart, inDick’s ear. “He’s done for, and we’re wasting time in trying to getanything out of him.”

“It’s folly to attempt to search the country blindly to-night,” saidDick. “Unless Durbin can give us a clue, we have nothing to work on.”

Brad looked desperate.

“All right,” he muttered. “You know best, partner. I opine I’d bettertrust the whole thing to you.”

“Give me that whisky, Mr. Swinton,” requested Dick.

The liquor had been weakened with water in a cup, and the boy again heldthis out to Durbin’s lips. A little of the stuff passed into the man’smouth, and he swallowed it with great difficulty.

“Now,” once more urged Dick, “try to tell me where they have takenProfessor Gunn.”

The man’s lips moved again. Dick bent low over him, holding his ear downto listen, but he could catch no word, and the fear that Durbin woulddie without speaking grew upon him.

Looking straight into the pathetic eyes of the injured man, Dick said,in a tone of confidence and command:

“I will give you the power to speak. You shall speak! You can speak!Tell me at once where they have taken the professor.”

For a moment there was absolute silence in the room. Both Buckhart andSwinton watched, breathless and awed, feeling that in some singularmanner the boy was transmitting some strength of his own to the man onthe bed. They felt as if something like a miracle was about to takeplace.

Finally Durbin’s lips parted again, and, in a low yet perfectly distincttone, he muttered three words:

“The—haunted—mill!”

CHAPTER XV.—THE HAUNTED MILL.

A branch of the Meden runs through the northwestern portion of thatregion still known as Sherwood Forest. At one time all that country wascovered with one great, dense forest, but now there are many pieces ofwoods and a great deal of cleared country, with beautiful cottages andwinding roads.

In a little, wooded valley stands an old, deserted mill. The brokenwater wheel is still and covered with rank moss and slime. The mill hassettled on one side until it threatens to topple into the little basinabove the almost vanished dam. It seems to cling to the old-fashionedstone chimney in a pitiful way for support.

This is known as the “Haunted Mill of the Meden,” and tourists travelfar to see it. Hundreds of artists have daubed its semblance on theircanvases.

Years ago, it is said, the miller, crazed by solitude or something,murdered his beautiful daughter in the old mill and then committedsuicide. The people of that region tell that the ghosts of both fatherand daughter visit the old mill nightly at the hour when the crime wascommitted, which was shortly after midnight.

The haunted mill stands about eight English miles from Robin Hood’sTavern.

A cold moon had risen in the east, and it was near the hour when theghosts of the old mill were supposed to walk.

At least half a mile from the mill three horsemen had halted. They wereDick Merriwell, Brad Buckhart, and Swinton, the keeper of Robin Hood’sTavern.

Not only had the landlord’s demands been fully satisfied and appeased byDick, but he had been induced by the payment of a liberal sum to guidethe boys to the haunted mill.

“You can’t miss it,” he declared in a low tone. “It’s straight down thisroad in the wood yonder.”

“But aren’t you coming with us?” asked Brad.

“Ten pounds wouldn’t take me nearer the mill at this hour,” said thelandlord. “I’ve kept my part of the agreement; I have guided you to it.”

“Let him remain here,” said Dick, “and take care of the horses. We’ll goalone, Brad. We must leave the horses, for we do not wish to give Bunolwarning that we are coming, and he might hear the animals.”

“Mebbe that’s a right good idea,” nodded the Texan. “I don’t opine a manas scared as he is would be any good with us.”

So the horses were left with the landlord, who promised to remain andguard them until the boys returned.

“If you ever do return,” he added. “It seems to me as likely as not thatI’ll never clap eyes on you again.”

“I hope you don’t think we’re going to run away?” exclaimed Dick.

“No, but I do think it likely you’ll run into plenty of trouble,considering the things those men did at my place. I don’t see why you donot wait until morning and gather a force to aid you. It’s the onlysensible thing. What can two boys do against such ruffians!”

“We’re not the kind that waits a great deal,” said Buckhart. “I surereckon you’ll find out what we can do, and the ruffians will find out,too.”

Both boys were armed. They lost no time in hastening along the road thatled in to the dark woods which choked the little valley. It demandedplenty of courage for those two American lads to attempt such anundertaking in a strange country at such an hour, and under suchcircumstances; but Dick and Brad had the courage, and they did notfalter.

The woods were dark and silent, and filled with many black shadows,although in spots moonlight sifted through the openings amid the trees.

Stepping cautiously and keeping constantly on the alert, the boysfollowed the winding road down into the valley, avoiding the patches ofmoonlight.

Finally a faint murmuring sound of water reached their ears. It camefrom the little stream that trickled over the broken dam.

A few moments later the boys saw the dark and forbidding outlines of theold mill. All about the mill reigned a stillness like death, broken onlyby the almost inaudible sound of trickling water.

“It sure doesn’t seem like there is much of anything doing here,”whispered Buckhart. “I hope we haven’t arrived too late, pard.”

“The only way to find out about that is to investigate,” returned Dick,in the same cautious tone.

They approached the mill, circling a last spot where the moonlight shonedown through the trees.

True, their hearts were beating faster than usual in their bosoms, butthey were fully as undaunted as when they had set out from Robin Hood’sTavern.

The old mill was reached at last, and they listened as they stood closebeside its rotting wall.

No sound came from within.

“Have you the candles, Dick?” asked the Texan.

“Sure,” was the assurance. “But we’ll not use them until we get inside.”

They tried the door, but it was fastened, and after a few moments theydecided that it could not be opened from the outside unless the personwho attempted it knew how.

“We’ll have to find a window that will let us in,” said Dick, in awhisper.

Fortunately, they had little difficulty about this, for the windows ofthe mill were broken, and, although they had been boarded up, the boardswere torn away from one of them. This window was high, but Dick mountedon Buckhart’s shoulders and crept through it. Then he leaned far out andgrasped the hands of the Texan, who followed him, but made more or lessnoise in scrambling up and over the sill.

“Hush!” warned Dick. “We’ll listen here a while to see if we havedisturbed any one.”

The silence within the place was even more oppressive than that of thedark woods outside.

“I sure am afraid we’re on a Tom Fool’s errand, partner,” murmuredBuckhart. “I’m almost ready to bet my boots that, besides ourselves,there’s no living thing in this thundering old building.”

“You may be right,” Dick admitted; “but we’ll search it from top tobottom before we quit. I hate to think that, in the face of almostcertain death, Luke Durbin lied to me.”

“Mebbe he didn’t lie; mebbe Bunol changed his plan after that runawayand smash-up.”

“Perhaps so.”

“Light a candle, pard.”

“Not yet. We’ll prowl round a little first. Take care not to step into ahole or trap of any sort.”

They moved forward with the utmost caution, feeling their way along inthe darkness. Soon they found a door that was standing wide open andpassed into a sort of hall, beyond which another door opened intoanother part of the building, which Dick believed was the mill proper.

In spite of their caution, they had made some slight noises, Brad oncestriking the toe of his boot against some obstacle.

As they paused there in irresolution, something of a startling naturetook place.

First through the empty hallowness of the vacant rooms echoed a groanthat was most dismal and nerve-trying.

This sound was followed almost instantly by a shrill, piercing shriek,like that which might be uttered by some one in the agony of death!

Buckhart afterward confessed that his hair “certain rose up on its hindlegs and mighty nigh kicked his hat off.”

No wonder.

Such appalling sounds breaking in on the absolute silence of the placewere enough to give a man of iron something more than a slight start.

The sounds died out as suddenly as they had broken forth, and thestillness that followed was disturbed only by the tumultuous beating ofthe hearts of the two boys.

Brad clutched Dick’s arm.

“Great everlasting tornadoes!” groaned the Texan. “That sure was lettingit out some!”

“Just a little!” admitted Dick.

It did not take the boys long to recover from the shock, which wasfollowed by a feeling of resentment, for both knew some one had soughtto frighten them in that manner.

Neither of them believed in ghosts.

“Wherever did it come from, pard?” asked Buckhart, softly—“upstairs ordown?”

Dick was compelled to confess that he did not know. The groan and theshriek had echoed through the empty rooms in a most deceptive manner.

By this time both lads had their revolvers ready for use.

They remained perfectly still for many minutes, listening for some newsound to guide them. Although they were wonderfully courageous, theyknew they might be plunging into a deadly trap, and neither cared aboutthrowing his life away.

Still they had come there for the purpose of trying to rescue ProfessorGunn, and they did not propose to retire without doing their best toaccomplish their design.

Finally they decided to investigate the upper portion of the mill, andon their hands and knees they crept up the stairs. They knew not whatmoment they might be attacked, and when they reached the top of theflight they more than half expected to be set upon without furtherdelay.

After the startling sounds which had chilled and appalled them for a fewmoments, there was no further demonstration, and the deathlike silenceof the place placed another strain upon their nerves, which seemed togrow more and more severe. Finally they felt that they would gladlywelcome a noise of some sort.

The moonlight reached some of the upper windows of the building now, andit assisted them in exploring a portion of that floor. But though theywent from room to room, they found up there no sign of any living thing.

“This is a whole lot disappointing, partner,” breathed the Texan. “Thereis nothing doing up here.”

“Evidently not,” admitted Dick. “Let’s go down. We have not halfinvestigated the rooms below.”

They still believed it quite probable they would be attacked while inthe old mill, but neither faltered. Down the stairs they went, and Dickled the way into that part of the building that had once been the millproper.

Suddenly he stopped in the dark and put out his hand, checking Brad.

“Don’t move!” he warned.

“What’s the matter?”

Dick had heard the sound of running water rising from almost directlybeneath his feet, and a cold breath of air came up and smote him in theface.

“Keep your revolver ready for use,” he said. “I’m going to light acandle.”

A moment later he struck a match and soon lighted a candle, which he hadbrought in his pocket, wrapped in a paper.

The light thus provided showed the boys that it was a fortunate thingthat Dick had halted just as he did. Barely a step before him theflooring had rotted and fallen away, leaving a great opening down to thebed of the stream below.

“I’ll keep this candle going now,” decided Dick.

The investigation of that portion of the mill did not consume much time,and it was productive of nothing but disappointment.

“It’s a whole lot singular!” growled the Texan. “Partner, we knowsomebody was here a short time ago, for we heard the galoot groan andyell.”

“There must still be a part of the building we have not searched,” saidDick.

There was. They found a door leading from the hall into a short andnarrow passage, which was blocked by still another door. The second doorwas securely fastened.

Their efforts to open it in an ordinary manner were wasted; but whilethey sought to do so they were surprised and interested to hear astrange thumping sound issuing from some part of the building justbeyond that very door.

As they paused to speculate concerning the meaning of that thumping,another startling and disagreeable thing happened.

In the hall behind them there was a flash, and the loud and deafeningreport of a pistol smote upon their ears. At the same instant a bulletclipped past Dick’s ear and struck the candle in his hand, cutting itoff close to the top and extinguishing it.

Buckhart turned in a twinkling and answered the shot by firing blindlyback into the hall.

The flash of his pistol blinded Brad, but Dick—who had also wheeled andwas slightly to one side—plainly saw a man spring through a doorway andvanish from view.

Once more snatching out his own revolver and warning Buckhart againstshooting him by mistake, Merriwell darted back into that hall andfollowed the man through the doorway.

He discerned a dark figure just slipping out through the very window bywhich the two boys had entered the mill.

Although he was tempted to fire on the fleeing man, Dick restrained theimpulse, permitting the unknown to escape.

“He’s gone,” he explained, in answer to the eager questions of theTexan, who had followed closely. “Let him go. I’m for finding out assoon as possible the meaning of the thumping sounds we heard beyond thatimmovable door. Let’s look for something with which we may batter downthe door.”

In the mill section of the building they discovered a huge, rustyhammer, and with this they returned and attacked the door, Dick havingrelighted his candle.

The sturdy Texan begged the privilege of smashing the door, and the oldbuilding resounded with the concussions of his blows. In a few momentshe had beaten the door until it was split and ready to give way. A sortof fury seemed to possess him, and he soon smashed his way through thedoor and into the small room beyond.

Dick followed with the candle, the light of which showed them a humanfigure lying on the floor before them.

It was Professor Gunn, bound tightly with ropes wound and knotted abouthim and gagged in a manner that prevented him from making any outcry.However, he had managed to thump the floor with his feet when he heardthe boys outside the door, and now his eyes were filled with anexpression of untold relief and joy.

Dick lost not a moment in producing a knife and slashing at the cordswhich held the old man helpless. At the same time Brad removed the gag.

“Thank God!” mumbled Zenas weakly.

When they had freed him, he was unable to rise, so they lifted himbetween them and aided him from the room. Reaching the window by whichthey had entered, Brad sprang out, and Dick assisted Zenas in gettingover the sill and lowering himself into the strong arms of the Texan.

Then Merriwell sprang out, drawing a deep breath of relief, for,regardless of the flight of the man who had fired the shot thatextinguished the candle, he had feared another attack until all wereclear of the building.

“Boys,” half sobbed the old professor, “I knew you would come! I knewyou would rescue me somehow! But it seems as if I have been in the powerof those villains for ages.”

“Where is Bunol?” asked Dick.

“Gone.”

“Gone where?”

“He was here when they brought me to the place. He compelled me to tellhim where he could find Nadia Budthorne, then he left me, with a singleman to guard me until morning. With the coming of daylight the man wasto get away, and I might have remained there until I perished fromhunger or exhaustion if you had not come to my rescue. Oh, boys, you arejewels! You are the bravest, finest chaps in the world!”

“Bunol knows!” said Buckhart hoarsely. “He accomplished his purpose!”

“But we’ll baffle him!” cried Dick. “We’ll send a warning to theBudthornes the first thing in the morning, and then—then away forNaples.”

CHAPTER XVI.—SUNSET ON THE GRAND CANAL.

Venice, and sunset on the Grand Canal!

Nowhere else in all the world is there such a sight. For two miles thismagnificent waterway; the main thoroughfare of the most wonderful cityin the world, winds in graceful curves, with red-tiled, creamy whitepalaces on either hand. At all times it is a source of wonder anddelight to the visitor, but at sunset and in the gathering purpletwilight it is the most entrancing.

So thought Dick Merriwell, as he lay amid the piled-up cushions of agondola that was propelled by a gracefully swaying, picturesquelydressed gondolier, one beautiful evening.

Brad Buckhart and Professor Gunn were in the gondola with Dick, andthey, also, were enchanted and enraptured with the scene.

The mellow rays of the sinking sun touched the shimmering surface of thewater, shone on the windows of the palaces, gleamed on the hangingbalconies of marble, and made the Bridge of the Rialto seem like anivory arch against the amber-turquoise sky.

There were many other gondolas moving silently along here, there,everywhere. On this great thoroughfare there was no rumble and roar oftraffic. It was a street of soft silence, as Venice is the City ofSilence.

“In a short time, boys,” said the old professor, in a modulated voice,that seemed softened by the influence of his surroundings, “you shallsee Venice at her best, for the moon will rise round and full. When youhave seen Venice by moonlight, you may truthfully say you have beheldthe most beautiful spectacle this world can show you.”

“She ain’t so almighty bad by sunlight,” observed Buckhart.

“Ah, but time has worked its ravages upon her,” sighed Zenas sadly.“Once even the dazzling sun of midday could show no flaw in her beauty,but now it reveals the fact that, although she is still charming, herface is pathetically wrinkled. Ah! those splendid days of old—thosedays of her magnificence and grandeur—gone, gone forever!”

In truth, Zenas was profoundly moved as he thought of the past greatnessand present state of this City of the Sea.

Still Dick remained silent. He was watching the sunset. Between him andthe western sky seemed falling a shower of powdered gold, and yet thiswonderful, golden light was perfectly transparent. Beneath the balconiesand in the narrower canals the shadows were growing deeper. Just thenDick thought that, no matter what disaster, what suffering, what sorrowmight come to him in life, just to be there in Venice that night atsunset was joy and pleasure and reward enough to overbalance all else.

“Pard, are you dreaming?”

Dick turned his eyes toward the loyal Texan without moving his head.

“Yes, yes—dreaming,” he murmured.

“Of what?”

“Like the professor, of the old days—of the founding of this wonderfulcity by a mere handful of refugees, who fled before the devastating,barbarian army of Attila, well named the ‘Scourge of God.’ How littlecould they have dreamed—those terror-stricken refugees—of thewonderful future of this city of a hundred islands! I am dreaming ofVenice at the height of her glory, of the power of the Doges, of thesenators in their splendid robes, of battles and conquests, of richesand splendor, of pompous pageants, of Ascension Day, when amid the roarof cannon, the shouts of the people, and the throb of music, the Doge inhis barge of gold flung a golden ring into the blue waves, announcingthe wedding of Venice and the sea. Yes, I am dreaming—dreaming!”

“And while you dream, pard,” said Brad, “dream some of the dark deeds,the crimes, the Bridge of Sighs, the Council of Ten——”

A strange, half-startled exclamation came from the gondolier. He hadpaused, clutching his oar, leaning forward—apparently paying attentionto their words for the first time. He could speak a little English, butProfessor Gunn addressed him in Italian:

“What’s the matter, Reggio?”

“The boys, signor.”

“What of them?”

“They talk too much. It is not well. They should be more careful.”

“Careful? I do not understand you, Reggio. Why should they be careful?”

“I hear them speak of the Ten,” whispered Reggio, leaning forward. “Itis very dangerous, signor. Nothing should be spoken.”

“Still I do not understand you,” persisted the amazed old pedagogue.“The time of the Council of Ten is past forever. There is now no longerdanger that a citizen of Venice may be secretly denounced to thecouncil, secretly tried and secretly executed. We know that at one timethe despotism of this council was so great that even the Doge himselfbecame a mere instrument in the hands of that body of tyrants. Now,however, there is no council——”

The agitation of Reggio had increased as Gunn was speaking, until now itbecame absolutely painful to behold. He was trembling violently, andwith shaking hand he entreated the old man to be silent.

“You know not, signor—you know not!” he whispered. “Beware what yousay! If you continue to talk, I must decline to carry you in mygondola—you and the boys. We must part. I am a poor man. I need themoney you pay me for my services. But most I need my life, not formyself alone, but for Teresa, my sister.”

“Man,” said Zenas, “you must be crazy! What harm could speaking of——”

“I pray you no more, signor—no more!”

“Well, wouldn’t that beat you!” said Buckhart, who understood a littleItalian, and had succeeded in getting the drift of the talk. “What doyou think of it, pard?”

“I do not know what to think,” confessed Dick, quite as much surprisedand bewildered as Professor Gunn. “It is most remarkable. The man seemsfrightened. He actually pretends that we may place his life in peril byour words.”

“It may be some kind of a trick, Dick.”

“What kind of a trick can it be?”

“I don’t know, but I’m sure watching out constant for tricks by thesedagoes. They’re a slippery set, and they seem to think travelers arefair and legitimate game for plucking.”

“Not all of them, Brad.”

“No, not all; but you know Naples is called ‘the city of thieves,’ andwe certain found it that. This fellow has appeared a heap decent,and——”

“Just so. I’ve taken a liking to him. He’s positively handsome, and heseems honest. I’ve urged the professor to retain him while we remain inVenice. But now——”

“We can’t even discuss the history of the city in his presence.”

All effort to induce Reggio to explain proved unavailing. He declined toexplain, and he continued to urge them—in whispers—to talk ofsomething else.

“I suppose we had better humor him,” said Gunn. “I can’t understand it,but just to please him we’ll drop it now.”

“I sure judge he has a streak of the daffy in him,” nodded Brad.

The silver moon rose wondrously fair. The evening was cool, still notcold. The professor and the boys drew some wraps about their shoulders,having come prepared for the change in the atmosphere.

In the moving gondolas lights began to twinkle and gleam. Soft laughterfloated over the water.

Reggio’s oar moved silently in the water, and the gondola glided throughalternating patches of moonlight and shadow, glory and gloom.

Beneath the moon, Venice was indeed at her best. The defects of age,seen in the broad light of day, were now hidden by a silver veil. Inplaces lights gleamed through the casements.

“Pard,” said Buckhart, after a long silence, “I’m a whole lot glad youwere expelled from Fardale!”

“What’s that?” exclaimed Dick, surprised. “Glad I was expelled?”

“Sure!” nodded the Texan grimly. “If you hadn’t been expelled, we’d notbe here together now.”

“That’s true enough.”

“Of course I’m plenty bitter on Chet Arlington, but I opine his day iscoming. The professor will look out for that, all right. You’ll returnto old Fardale in triumph after——”

“We’ll return together, Brad.”

“Yes, we’ll return together—after we’ve seen a right good lot of thisamazing old world, and I allow you’ll be received back with highacclaim. I can see it now. I can see big Bob, Obediah, Chip, Gardner,Darrel, Flint, Smart, and all the rest of them, welcoming you back. Justto think of it stirs me some, you bet! There’ll be something doing atFardale that day, Dick—you hear me gently gurgle! Then back to thediamond, the gridiron, the gymnasium—back to all things we love! Andthe yarns we’ll have to tell! The things we’ll have seen! Whoop! I’msure busting just to think of it!”

Professor Gunn, who had been listening to the words of the boys, nowobserved:

“Youth and anticipation of the glories of the future! Two of the mostjoyous things in this old world, boys. Do you know, I’m glad myself thatDick was expelled. Remarkable, eh? Astonishing and shameful confession,hey? Well, it’s the truth. Why am I glad? Because it brought me thecompanionship of you two lads, something I needed. Yes, I needed it. I’ma pretty old man, boys, and I find myself inclined to look backwardinstead of forward. Instead of thinking of the joys to come, I find I’minclined to think of the pleasures past. Now, that’s bad—very bad. Whena man gets to living in the past, he’s in his decline—he’s beginning todecay—he’s pretty near the end of the road. It’s natural for progressto constantly look forward. Looking backward means retrogression. Youboys have seemed to arouse in me the looking-forward spirit which Ineeded. I, too, think of the future and the pleasures to come. Thereforeyou have done me no end of good. Hum! ha! Ha! hum! I hope I’ve notinterfered with your enjoyment of this glorious night by my littlelecture.”

“What’s the matter with Reggio?” questioned Dick in a low tone. “Hestill seems excited. He keeps looking back, and——Why does he send thegondola darting in here so suddenly?”

They had turned with a sudden swing from the broad canal to go speedingswiftly into a very dark and very narrow passage between high buildings.

“Why did you turn in here, Reggio?” demanded the professor, in Italian.

“Signor, it is best,” was the half-spoken, half-whispered answer.“Question me not, but trust me. Soon we will be again on the GrandCanal.”

“I certain believe the man is some bughouse,” said Buckhart. “He’s sureacting and talking a heap queer to-night.”

“I think he is perfectly trustworthy,” declared Dick; “and he’s thehandsomest gondolier in all Venice.”

“You picked him out, pard, because he was handsome and graceful.”

“No; because I believed I could read honor and sincerity in his face. Ibelieved he could be trusted.”

“If he’s daffy, he can’t be trusted to any great extent.”

Out of the canal they sped, Reggio’s body swaying rhythmically as hepropelled the craft. He seemed almost feverish in his haste. Soon theyswung again into another narrow channel, where it was very dark, Reggioturning his head to look round just as he did so. What he saw, ifanything, caused him to increase his efforts.

They began to feel a touch of the almost fierce anxiety which had seizedupon their gondolier. He seemed fleeing before something of which he wasin mortal terror. In the moonlight, before they were sent rushingthrough this second dark channel, Dick had obtained a full view of theItalian’s face. It was pale and set, and his eyes seemed glowing withstrange terror.

What thing was this from which Reggio fled like a hunted man? What perilpursued him, seen by him alone?

“Reggio!” spoke Dick.

“Silence! silence! silence!” implored the man at the oar.

“He sure has gone luny of a sudden!” whispered Brad. “There is no otherexplanation, pard.”

“I don’t like his behavior myself,” confessed the professor. “He’sgetting me nervous. You know there are banded thieves in Venice, whoprey on foreigners. Now——”

“There can be no connection between Reggio’s singular conduct and thethieves of Venice,” said Dick impatiently. “If he intended to rob us, hewould not first excite our suspicion by his behavior.”

“I judge that’s correct,” nodded the Texan. “I certain allow it’s just aplain case of daffy on Reggio’s part.”

Once more they glided out upon the moon-lighted surface of the GrandCanal, and the professor drew a deep breath of relief.

“This is good enough for us, Reggio,” he said. “You don’t have to takeus through those dark alleys to amuse us.”

But the man addressed did not seem to hear. He swung the craft into theshadow of the palaces at one side of the canal, still sending it forwardwith unusual speed. Other gondolas he avoided or passed with greatskill. It was evident they attracted more or less attention by theirsurprising haste at that hour.

“I think, boys,” said Zenas Gunn, “that it might be well for us toreturn to our rooms and dismiss Reggio.”

But Dick’s interest and curiosity had been aroused. Behind the peculiarbehavior of the man he believed there was something worth understanding.He scented a mystery, and mysteries always aroused and interested him.

“I couldn’t think of giving up this pleasure in the open air for ourgloomy old rooms,” he said.

“Nor I, pard,” joined in Brad. “I slept a whole lot this forenoon, sothat I’d not be at all sleepy to-night. Night certain is the time toenjoy Venice. I opine I’ll get into bad habits about hours while we’rehere; but I can’t help it.”

“You boys are tyrants!” exclaimed the professor. “Who is the masterhere, may I ask? Am I taking you round, or are you taking me round?”

Dick laughed, and assured the professor that he was the one in supremeauthority, which seemed to relieve and satisfy the old man. In truth,the boys did just about as they pleased, but they succeeded in this bymaking Zenas believe he was the one who wished to do the things thatinterested them most. In carrying this out, Dick was far more cleverthan Brad.

“Reggio seems to be behaving better,” said Merriwell.

“Correct,” nodded Buckhart. “Mebbe it was a fit he had. It seems gonenow.”

“Though he keeps looking back.”

Once more Dick spoke to the gondolier, asking him why he had seemed toflee through those narrow and dark channels, and why he kept turning hishead to stare behind them.

Reggio paused and leaned forward.

“Ah!” he said, in a very low voice, “you don’t-a know. I—I feel-a it inda air.” He spoke in broken English now.

“What did you feel in the air?”

“Death!” whispered the gondolier. “You don’t-a know. You not see-a heemfollow us. He follow. That why I hurry vera much.”

“Whoop!” muttered Brad. “That’s a heap fine! So we had a race withdeath, did we? Well, partner, if that isn’t daffy talk, what do you callit?”

“Do you mean that we were really and truly pursued by anything, Reggio?”demanded Dick.

“I mean-a it. Death he follow us. But mebbe he not-a after us. He followno more now.”

CHAPTER XVII.—THE RING OF IRON.

A boat full of musicians appeared, gliding slowly past them in themoonlight, surrounded by many gondolas. To the throbbing of the harp andguitar, a score of voices were chanting an Italian song.

“Splendid! magnificent!” breathed the professor.

The singing ceased. The gondolas swung near the music barge, from whichwhite, phantom hands were outstretched. Into those hands fell silvercoins, and the gondolas swept away.

Dick spoke a word of command to Reggio, who quickly sent them close tothe boat of the singers. Merriwell added his contribution to thecollection the musicians were taking up.

“There’s still music in Venice,” said Dick, as they drifted away.

“But now,” said Professor Gunn, “the musicians are professionals, whotake that way of making a living.”

“Then,” spoke Dick, “in a certain sense it is true that—

“Well quoted, my boy!” exclaimed the old pedagogue, in deepsatisfaction.

“Let’s follow the music boat,” suggested Brad. “That singing has stirredup something a whole lot inside of me. I sure would like to hear somemore.”

So Reggio was instructed to follow the musicians.

Some fifteen minutes later, perhaps, the music boat turned into anarrow, close canal, where all was darkness and gloom, with never agleam of light, save from the gondolas, where lamps twinkled and movedlike wills-o’-the-wisp. The boats were lost in the blackness of theplace, the lights alone marking their movements.

“Another right fine place for a race with death, pard,” whispered Brad.

“Why have they turned in here?” whispered the professor apprehensively.

“We’ll find out,” said Dick. “We must be close to the Bridge of Sighs.Yes, you can see it against the sky. There it is.”

“With a palace and a prison on either hand,” murmured Zenas.

The beautiful bridge could be seen, buttressed by two great hulks ofgloom. It was a ghostly place, and the cool air of the night seemed totake on a deeper chill.

The music barge floated beneath the arch of the bridge and stopped.Reggio permitted his gondola to slowly move along until it was alsobeneath the bridge. Above them was the terrible prison. Beneath them wasthe dark and sluggish waters. Dick thought of the headless bodies thatonce had awaited the changing tide that was to bear them away from thatbloodstained spot to outer sea.

Suddenly the musicians began to play and chant a solemn song, full ofsadness and despair. Enraptured, enthralled, their blood cold in theirbodies, the boys and the old professor listened to the most thrillingand impressive music that had ever greeted their ears. In fancy, Dickseemed to hear the tread of the condemned passing over the bloodybridge, the moans of the dying within those black walls. The airshuddered and vibrated with the horror of it.

Never as long as life lasted could any of that trio forget that chantedsong.

When it ended at last, they seemed turned to stone themselves. It wasseveral moments before one of them stirred or even seemed to breathe.

“Let’s get out of here!” Brad finally suggested, chokingly.

“Grand, but terrible!” muttered the professor.

“I would not have missed it for worlds!” declared Dick.

Reggio swung the gondola round, and they were soon moving toward theopen canal.

Just as they passed out of the deeper darkness, a black gondola sweptclose to them—so close that the two boats almost touched.

An unseen person reached forth a ghostly hand from between divided blackcurtains, and something was tossed through the air, falling with alittle clang at the feet of Reggio. It sounded not unlike the ring ofmoney.

Then the phantom hand disappeared and the gondola slipped swiftly intothe blackness from which they had just emerged, being lost to view.

“What was it?” muttered Buckhart. “Did some one throw Reggio a coin?”

Dick grasped the arm of his bosom friend.

“Look!” he breathed. “Look at Reggio!”

The gondolier had not moved after the thing dropped at his feet. He waspoised with his body swayed backward a little, and he seemed to begazing with wide-open eyes at the mysterious object lying within teninches of his feet. His attitude was expressive of the greatest horror.

“Whatever does it mean?” speculated the Texan. “He certain looks a wholelot alarmed.”

Dick started to speak to the gondolier, but checked himself andcontinued to watch the man.

Onward glided the boat, out into the full flood of moonlight.

Then the man at the oar could plainly see the thing that had been castbefore him. Slowly, slowly, as if dreading to touch it, yet forcinghimself to perform the act, Reggio stooped and picked it up.

“At last!” he muttered, with a choking sound—“at last it has come tome!”

“What is it?” questioned Dick.

“Death!” answered the man.

“Death?” exclaimed Professor Gunn. “Why, what do you——”

“See!” directed the gondolier, holding the object up in the moonlight.“Here it is! By this I am told that I must die!”

“What is it?”

“A ring of iron.”

“A ring of iron? What has that to do with your death?”

“It tells me that I am chosen. I have a few hours in which to settle myaffairs and make ready. I knew that death pursued us to-night!”

“He’s still making crazy talk, pard!” declared Brad, who couldunderstand Italian, although he made a mess in attempting to speak it.

“The man is not crazy,” asserted Dick positively.

“He sure talks that way.”

“There is something behind all this, Brad—something I’d like tounderstand.”

Professor Gunn continued to question Reggio. They seemed quite alonejust then, with no other boats near them.

“I warned you not to speak of the Ten,” said the gondolier. “It is nowtoo late.”

“But the Council of Ten no longer exists.”

“Not as once it did; but there is another. Oh, if I talk now it willonly hasten the end! I am chosen, anyhow, and there is no escape! LittleTeresa, my sister—what will become of her!”

The man seemed utterly crushed and hopeless. All the buoyant life andgrace had departed from his body. His shoulders were bowed and hisappearance that of one aged twenty years in a few moments.

“Boys,” said Professor Gunn, “there is something mighty singular andsinister back of this. That man is badly frightened.”

“Or doing stunts,” muttered Buckhart.

“No stunts,” asserted Dick. “His terror and despair is genuine.Evidently the iron ring is a sign of some sort. He believes that thereceipt of it dooms him to death.”

“Folly.”

“Perhaps not.”

For a little time now Reggio answered none of their questions. Finallyhe straightened up and looked around. He lifted his arms and stretchedthem out to the white buildings with a despairing gesture.

“Farewell—farewell, Venice!” he murmured, with a sob. “This is my lastnight with you! For the last time I look on your beauty! Before anothernight my eyes will be closed in the long, long sleep.”

Then suddenly he seemed to realize that the others were looking andlistening. He threw back his shoulders, drew in a deep breath, and withthat breath his manhood seemed to return. He made a careless gesture ofhis hand.

“It is nothing to you, signors,” he said. “Mind not anything you haveseen or heard. But it is better that you should leave Venice, for I havespoken to you of the Ten.”

“But you have not explained—you have not told us what you mean,” saidthe professor.

“It is better that you should not know. Your knowledge would place youin peril. Talk no more of the Ten. Keep your lips tightly closed, if youvalue your lives—and leave Venice.”

“Well, I like that!” growled Brad, in a manner that plainly told he didnot like it. “I opine we won’t be chased out of Venice in any suchmanner.”

“Not much!” declared Dick earnestly. “We’ll remain and solve the mysteryof the Ten.”

In vain they tried to learn anything further from the gondolier. Hebecame silent, and no amount of questioning elicited anything of asatisfactory sort.

“I must return to Teresa,” he finally said. “It is the last time I shallsee her.”

He then insisted on taking them without delay to their lodgings. On theway, he swung the gondola into another dark and narrow canal. A peculiarwhistle sounded from his lips, causing Professor Gunn, who was verynervous by this time, to give a jump of alarm.

“My! my!” muttered the old pedagogue. “I’m expecting anything to happen!I’m looking for assassins everywhere. Why did he whistle? What does itmean?”

The answer came in the form of a gleam of light from a window in thewall on their left.

Reggio uttered a soft exclamation of satisfaction.

“Teresa is waiting for me, signors,” he said. “I must hasten with youand then return.”

“So this is his ranch,” said Buckhart. “He camps here, I judge.”

But now a change came over the gondolier. The light above had been shutoff suddenly. Darkness followed for a moment, after which the lightgleamed again. Again it disappeared for a few seconds, and again itgleamed.

“Trouble!” hissed Reggio. “Teresa has made the danger signal!”

“Dear! dear! dear!” gasped Zenas Gunn. “This is terrible! It is so dark.In the light of day I am brave as a lion—I fear nothing. But thisdarkness is so treacherous that I—really I’m disturbed.”

“Signors,” entreated the gondolier, “I entreat you a moment to wait,till I see what danger it is that has alarmed my sister. When I havereassured her, I will hasten to take you on your way.”

“All right, Reggio,” said Dick promptly. “We can wait. In fact, we’re inno haste.”

“Hum! ha!” coughed Zenas. “I am in haste to get out of this darkspot—indeed I am!”

“But you would not leave a lady in trouble, professor?” remonstratedDick. “I know you would not do that, for you are the soul of chivalry.Where the fair sex is concerned, you are ever ready to face peril ordeath.”

“That’s right,” agreed the old pedagogue, bracing up. “You understand meperfectly, Richard. You are a very astute lad. Reggio, we will wait.”

“And,” added Dick, “if you need our assistance, you may depend on us.”

The gondolier poured out his thanks, swung the craft alongside some darksteps, fastened it to a ring of iron set in the marble, and then steppedout, saying he would make great haste.

He had not ascended more than three of the steps when he paused. At thesame moment, from some dark nook, a figure stepped out above him.

“Who is there?” challenged the gondolier.

“A friend, Reggio Tortora,” came the answer, in perfect Italian, thevoice being soft and musical.

“A friend?” retorted the gondolier, suspiciously. “What are you doinghere?”

“Waiting for your return.”

“Who are you?”

“You know me well.”

“I know you not.”

A laugh sounded low and soft in the darkness.

“Your ears must be losing their cunning, Reggio. Why, I should recognizeyour voice anywhere in all the world that I heard it. Come nearer.”

But the gondolier had been warned of death that hovered over him, and hedid not move.

“If you are my friend,” he said, “why do you lurk like an assassin at mydoor?”

Again that musical laugh echoed between those dark walls.

“You seem timid as a rabbit, Reggio. Is this the brave, careless TortoraI knew so well? It cannot be.”

The gondolier was angered by the mockery of the words and laughter, buthe did not forget that the iron ring had fallen at his feet a short timebefore. Might this not be the man chosen by the Ten to strike the fatalblow?

“Reggio,” called Dick, standing up and preparing to step from thegondola to the steps, “if you need aid, you may rely on us.”

“You bet your boots!” exclaimed Buckhart, eager to do something. “Justsay the word, Reg, and we’ll get right into the game. I’m beginning tospoil for a rumpus, and I’m the Unbranded Maverick of the Rio Pecos.When I get my war paint on and take to the trail, I’m a holy howler onten wheels.”

“Boys, boys!” spluttered the agitated old professor, “do be careful!Don’t leave me here! I must protect you. I must take care of you. If anyharm comes to you, I’ll never forgive myself.”

“Don’t worry, professor,” said Dick.

“Just keep your clothes on, professor,” urged Brad.

“There is but one,” said Reggio, in answer to Dick. “I need no aid infacing one man.”

Again the stranger laughed.

“Even though you are changed,” he said, “you yet have a little pride, myReggio. But why should you fear me! I am here to do you a greatservice.”

“To do me a service?”

“Even so, my Reggio.”

“What service?”

“I would save your life.”

“How is that—how can it be?”

“You are under the ban of the Terrible Ten,” whispered the stranger,leaning forward in the darkness, and sending the words down the steps atthe gondolier.

“How know you that unless you are my enemy—unless you are the assassinsent to do the deed?” demanded Reggio.

“I know many things, but my means of knowledge I keep in my own breast.You doubt me? I swear to you that I can save you, and will—on a certaincondition.”

“No one condemned by the Ten has ever escaped,” retorted Reggio.

“You shall be the first—if you agree to terms I will offer.”

“What are the terms?” doubtingly inquired the doomed man.

“Will you accept them?”

“I will not become a murderer and a thief!” was the fierce retort. “Iwill not plunder and slay, and give one-half my evil gain to thosecriminals who hide their faces and are growing wealthy through the blackcrimes other men commit out of fear of them. I am a man! My ancestorswere of the Castellani—the aristocrats of the red hoods. Never one ofthem has descended to the ranks of crime. It is because of that thingthat I am now condemned to the assassin. The Ten claim they are thedescendants of the black-hooded Nicolletti, and that they are avengingthe old wrongs of their class. It is a lie! They are thieves andmurderers, banded together for plunder. They strike no blows with theirown hands, but they frighten others into doing the dark work and givingthem half the plunder. Not even their tools know who compose the Ten,whose faces are always hidden. No man dares betray them by confessing.If he is caught red-handed, he takes all the blame, and tells it notthat those who drove him to his crimes, and have shared his plunder, arethe Ten, for if he should speak, he knows the ban of death will fall onall his family and all his blood relations.”

Repeatedly the stranger had tried to check the torrent of words flowingfrom Reggie’s lips, but his efforts had been unavailing. The speaker wasaroused to a pitch of desperation, and he would not be silenced until hehad finished.

“I fear not to speak!” he exclaimed. “I know I must die, for I havereceived the iron ring.”

“You fool!” hissed the other. “Do you not think of Teresa? What willhappen to her if you talk like this?”

Reggie’s aspect of defiant rage suddenly departed, his shoulders droopedand he lifted his shaking hand to his eyes.

“Teresa!” he whispered. “Teresa, my sister! What have I done?”

“You have spoken like a crazy fool in the presence of foreigners,”declared the other man. “Still, besides them, I am the only one who hasheard your words, and I am your friend. Their lips must be silenced, forif they speak one word of this, Teresa is doomed!”

Once more Reggio straightened himself somewhat defiantly.

“What mean you?” he demanded. “Their lips must be silenced, you say.What mean you?”

“You know.”

“They shall not be harmed while with me!” exclaimed the gondolier. “Noman I have ever served has come to harm through me.”

“Oh, Lord, boys! Oh, Lord!” palpitated Zenas Gunn, almost overcome byhorror. “Do you hear? Do you understand? They are speaking of murder—ofkilling us!”

“But Reggio is on the level,” said Dick.

“Great howling coyotes!” exclaimed Buckhart. “It begins to look some asif we were going to get mixed up with this Ten, whoever they are.”

“Tortora,” said the stranger, “you are a great fool! You will be slain,the strangers will disappear, and Teresa—it will be left for me to saveher.”

“For you?”

“Yes.”

“Why, you?”

“Because she is the fairest flower of Venice! Because my sleeping dreamsof her and my waking thoughts of her have brought me back to Venice fromAmerica, far over the seas.”

“By the saints!” cried Reggio, “you are Nicola Mullura!”

CHAPTER XVIII.—WHEN STEEL MEETS STEEL.

“At last you have named me!” laughed the mysterious man.

“You wretch!” panted the gondolier. “How dare you again show your facein Venice?”

“I am not showing it very much,” was the cool retort. “Even here, asnear as we are, you could not see it well enough to recognize me. By dayyou might rake the city with a fine comb, and still you would not findme.”

“You are a thief, a murderer, and death will be yours if you arediscovered!”

“Never fear, my Reggio,” was the mocking assurance. “I have friends farmore powerful than the authorities of this city. My friends are of theTen.”

“For whom you committed a hundred crimes before you were compelled toflee the country in order to save yourself from the hand of justice.Well might they be your friends!”

“You are very careless in your speech, Tortora,” said the one accused,still with perfect self-possession. “I will take good care of Teresawhen you are gone. Trust her to me, my Reggio. In my arms she will besafe.”

“Rather than think she might become yours would I slay her with my ownhand!” panted the gondolier. “What have you been doing? You havefrightened her!”

“I knocked at the door and asked admission. She should have welcomed mewith open arms.”

“I knew you had frightened her. She loathes you, Nicola Mullura.”

“She shall adore me.”

“In her room she has been shuddering and praying since you knocked atthe door and demanded admission.”

“You shall soothe her and tell her I have come to take her with me toAmerica, where, in the city of New York, I am already a great man withmy people.”

“Never! How have you the impudence to place your feet on these steps!How did you come here?”

“I was brought. When Teresa declined to admit me, I decided to waituntil your return, for I knew you were out in the city. I am here. Nowwe will go in together. You shall leave me with Teresa while you takeaway the foreigners and return.”

The man spoke as if fully confident that Tortora would comply. Thegondolier seemed hesitating, but suddenly he cried:

“As I must die, I’ll not leave you to torture my sister! The Ten willdestroy me, but not until I have killed you, Mullura!”

“He has drawn a knife!” exclaimed Dick, noting as well as possible inthe darkness the movements of Reggio.

“It sure is the real thing now!” said Buckhart.

“Terrible!” groaned Professor Gunn. “Where are the authorities? Itshould be stopped!”

Mullura had watched closely, and now he lost not a second in whippingout his own knife.

“Fool!” he sneered. “You are no match for me! I shall kill you, and savethe Ten a task!”

Tortora held his knife at arm’s length toward the sky, as if invokingthe assistance of a higher power. Then he started up the steps.

“Fair play!” cried Dick Merriwell, springing from the gondola. “If wecan’t stop this business, Brad, we can see fair play!”

“You bet your boots!” roared the Texan, following promptly.

The professor called to them in the greatest consternation, but they didnot heed his appeals.

Mullura waited for Tortora to come within reach. Being higher up, he hadthe advantage.

Suddenly the gondolier darted to one side and sprang up the steps untilhe was on a level with the other man. Mullura tried to prevent this, buthe was not quick enough. He leaped forward, striking at the gondolier.

Reggio flung up his hand and warded the blow, the knives clinking asthey met and rasping as they parted with a twist.

The gondolier gave the other a swing and then struck under like a flash,but Mullura leaped backward and escaped.

The struggle that followed was of a silent, deadly sort.

Dick and Brad pressed near to watch, but did not try to interferebetween the men.

Suddenly a door was flung open and a fan of light flared out upon thesteps. In the open doorway, holding a lighted candle above her head, wasa girl.

Both Dick and Brad gasped as they saw her, for they were struck with thefact that she was wonderfully beautiful. She was not more thanseventeen, with eyes and hair as dark as deepest midnight. Her featureswere finely molded.

The girl’s face was very pale and her lips were parted. She made awonderful picture as she stood there peering out at the fighting men.

The light of the candle enabled the men to see how to get at each other.Mullura cried:

“He forced it on me, Teresa! I do not wish to kill him, but now it ishis life or mine!”

Saying which he crouched at a little distance. He sprang forward on thesteps, made a false thrust with his knife that bore a dark stain, thenplunged beneath the arm Reggio flung up.

It seemed that the gondolier would be cut to death in a moment, but hemade a lucky clutch with his empty hand, and caught the wrist of hisenemy, partly checking and turning the blow. He was wounded slightly.

Baffled in that manner, Mullura had the misfortune to slip on the stepswhile within the reach of Tortora. Before he could recover and savehimself, the latter plunged the knife into his shoulder.

The stricken man broke the hold of the other, but up went one of hisarms, and he reeled down the steps, on which his knife clanged, havingfallen from his hand.

Reggio followed. His back was toward the light, but his manner was thatof one who means to finish a task not yet accomplished.

Mullura tried to rise to his feet. He scrambled up, saw Tortora rightupon him, leaped back, again lost his footing, and, a moment later,plunged with a great splash into the water.

The gondolier followed to the edge of the water, where he crouched,bloody knife in hand, watching for the man he hated to rise to thesurface.

The water was ruffled and broken, but the ripples were caused by the manwho had vanished, and they grew less and less. The head of Mullura didnot rise into view.

“I opine the gent is done for,” muttered Brad Buckhart, finding hisvoice at last.

“I believe he is,” said Dick, speaking with an effort. “If so, he methis just due.”

“Nary dispute to make on that, pard.”

There was something of disappointment in Reggio’s manner as he rose tohis feet.

“I wished to see him dead,” he muttered. “Still, I know he is done, andhe will never touch Teresa with his vile hands.”

“I reckon he’s gone, all right, Reg,” said Brad; “but so is yourgondola. It’s disappeared, and Professor Gunn has disappeared with it.Pard, we’re kind of left here, I judge.”

Already Dick had discovered that the gondola was gone.

With it had vanished the possibility of their immediately leaving theplace by water, as they had reached it.

“We’re stranded, Brad,” said Dick.

They called to Professor Gunn, but there was no answer.

“Courageous old boy!” muttered the Texan, with a show of anger.

“I don’t know that we can blame him much,” said Dick, seeking an excuse.“He’s very nervous, and the spectacle of Reggio and his antagonistfighting like tigers for their lives must have caused him to lose hishead.”

“Oh, he’s all right,” said Brad hastily—“he’s all right when he doesn’ttell people how brave he is.”

In the meantime Reggio was reassuring his sister, who had seemed quitehorrified by the spectacle of her brother engaged in the deadly strugglewith Nicola Mullura. He placed his arm about her supportingly, speakingsoft words into her ear. She was white, and the candle in her handtrembled violently.

“What can we do, Reggio?” questioned Dick, in very poor Italian. “Theprofessor is gone, and the gondola with him.”

“Come in da house,” invited the gondolier, abandoning his own tongue forthe time being. “Spik da English-a to me-a. I understand-a heem veramuch-a well.”

“But he can’t understand your talk, pard,” chuckled Buckhart. “That’s ahorse on you.”

“I suppose we had better accept his invitation. We can’t stay out here.”

“Sure—we’ll accept it,” nodded the Texan.

So they followed Reggio and his sister into the house, the door beingclosed behind them. They mounted some stairs, threaded a passage ofseveral angles, and came to a lighted room.

“Teresa,” said Reggio, “I introduce-a you my ’Merican friends. They veryfine-a gentleman.”

“Wow!” muttered Brad. “Our gondolier calls us his friends, pard!”

Reggio seemed to catch the meaning of Buckhart’s low-spoken words, whichwere not intended for his ears, for he straightened up with an air ofpride, quickly saying:

“You hear me tell-a Nicola Mullura my ancestor they belong-a to daCastellani. Mebbe you no understand-a me? I spik to him in da Italian. Ipoor gondolier now. My family good one. Da blood-a of da gentleman runhere in me-a. I no tell-a it ev’rybody. What da use? I tell-a you now.Da Mullura blood vera bad—vera bad. Da Mullura belong-a to daNicolletti—common class-a. My sist’ she fine-a lady.”

This was said with considerable effort, and suddenly Dick began tounderstand that this Venetian gondolier really believed himself and hissister of greater distinction than most of the foreigners he rowed aboutthe city in his boat. Indeed, there was something that carried theimpression that Reggio really believed he was unbending and bestowing onthem a favor by permitting them to meet his sister.

“No offense, Reg, old man,” said Brad, in his frank, Western way. “I cantell that your sister is an aristocrat by looking at her. You don’t haveto explain that any to me. She is all right, and so are you. I certainadmire the way you polished off old Mul, out on the front steps. All thesame, I didn’t think you had cooked his hash when you sheathed yourknife in his dirty hide, and it was a surprise for the UnbrandedMaverick of the Rio Pecos when he failed to rise to the surface aftergoing in for that little swim.”

“His shoulder,” said Reggio; “I strike-a him in da shoulder. He noswim-a.”

“Well, it was a right fine job, Reg.”

The gondolier now questioned his sister in Italian, and she told him howshe had endured terror while Mullura was outside the door, on which heknocked and knocked, demanding admittance. At first, on hearing hisrapping, she took a candle and crept down to the door, asking who wasthere. He answered, saying it was a friend from her brother; but sherecognized his voice, and fled back to her room, where she remained,praying that the door would not yield until her brother returned. Aftera time he ceased to knock, and she hoped he had departed. Still, knowinghow bitterly he hated Reggio, she feared he was waiting to attack him atthe door, and therefore she had given the danger signal by flashing thelight when she heard her brother’s whistle.

Reggio explained how Mullura had attempted to force his attentions uponTeresa. He was a reckless character in Venice at the time, with a veryblack reputation, and the girl had shrunk from him with the greatestaversion.

On discovering that Teresa feared him, the fellow became more and morepersistent in his annoying attentions. At last he insulted her, andthen, burning with fury, Reggio sought the scoundrel, intending to killhim. They fought, but were separated before either had been harmed.

Then and there Mullura swore to obtain possession of Teresa and to killReggio if he lifted a hand to prevent it.

But directly after that the authorities obtained conclusive evidencethat Mullura had been concerned in a number of crimes, the mostdastardly being a cold-blooded murder. The fellow was forced to fleefrom Venice, much to the relief of both Reggio and Teresa. He emigratedto America, but sent back word that some day he would return and secureTeresa, in spite of herself and her brother.

All this was explained in a broken manner to the boys, upon which Bradcried:

“Good riddance to old Nic! You won’t have to worry about him any more,Reg. Both you and your sister are safe.”

“No, no!” muttered the man, a dark shadow coming to his face. “NicolaMullura gone-a, but I have-a da iron ring-a.”

At this Teresa, who understood a little English, gave a cry and caughther brother by the arm. In Italian she plied him with questions. Atfirst he tried to put her off, but his manner added to her alarm, andshe insisted that he should tell her the truth.

“I have-a to tell-a her!” he murmured sadly. “Mebbe bet’ tell-a her now.She find-a out prit soon, best I can-a do.”

Then he took her in his arms, looking sadly and lovingly down into herupturned face.

“Little sister,” he said in soft Italian, “my heart is sore, for it istrue that the Ten have placed the death seal upon me.”

She cried out in horror, clutching him and clinging to him.

“No, no, no! Oh, Reggio, my brother, my dear, good brother, why shouldthey do it? It cannot be true!”

“You know, little sister, that a Tortora never stained his hand withcrime. The Ten live and grow fat on the proceeds of crime. Every man whofails to contribute his share of loot at their command is sure in theend to get the iron ring. When that happens, unless he is able to fleefrom Venice at once, he is doomed to die. I have no money. I cannotflee. The ring was tossed at my feet. Within twenty-four hours from thetime it fell there I shall be dead. Poor, little Teresa! What willbecome of you?”

She put her slender arms round him and clung to him with fierceaffection, as if she would in some manner protect him from the blackperil that threatened. Again and again she cried that it could not be,this terrible thing. She drew him down, wound her arms about his neckand kissed him.

“Brad,” said Dick, in a husky voice, “we must save Tortora somehow.”

“Right you are, partner!” agreed the Texan heartily. “I was thinking ofthat some before getting a look at his sister; and I am thinking it aheap sight more since. However are we going to do it?”

“We must get him out of Venice before the blow is struck by the TerribleTen.”

“Or take to the warpath and chaw up the Terrible Ten. That would suit mea heap better.”

“That’s out of the question. The only way is to smuggle Reggio out ofVenice. I have a way. The fishing boats! They start out for the fishinggrounds of the open sea before daybreak. We must find a man who, for asufficient bribe, will hide Reggio aboard his boat, take him out of thecity, and keep him until we can get along with a little steamer. It willcost a lot of money, but what is money when a human life is in thebalance!”

Reggio had been listening to Dick’s words. He now put his sister gentlyaside, turning to the boy, placed his hands on Merriwell’s shoulders,and spoke with deep feeling:

“A thousand times I thank-a you, my frien’! You good-a, kind-a! No useto try. No do-a it.”

“Why not?”

The gondolier explained that in all Venice there was not one fishermanwho would dare smuggle him away on learning that he had been condemnedby the Ten, and had been given the iron ring. The man who did it wouldbe assassinated in less than a day and a night after his return to thecity.

“But why tell him that you have received the ring?” asked Dick.

For a moment Reggio’s face brightened, and then the shadow returned andsettled upon it.

“Would you hav-a me getta poor feesh’man killed?” he asked. “That whatcome-a to him. You gent’man-a. You save-a me from da Ten, but you gittada in’cent man-a kill.”

“Well, that sure takes the prize!” muttered Brad. “I’ll never say againthat a dago has no sense of real honor and justice. How many men wouldthink of that? What would they care? To escape they would be willing tosacrifice a dozen innocent men. Pard, it sure is a whole lot amazing!”

Dick agreed that it was. Then he talked earnestly with Reggio, seekingto discover or invent some plan by which the escape could be contrived.

The gondolier insisted that all efforts were useless. Never had any manplaced beneath the ban of the Ten escaped. He seemed to think the powerof the Ten was almost infinite. In the old days the Council of Ten hadpossessed unlimited power, but even the original council, it seemed, hadnot been more dreaded than were the Ten of modern times.

At last Reggio said:

“You want-a do somet’ing for me-a? Good! You have-a da mon’. Youhonorable gent’man-a. See my little sister? I leave-a her all ’lone inda worl’. You take-a her to ’Merica? Over dere, in da cit’ of New York-alive one Antonio Melino. He know-a me—know-a my father—know-a mysister. You take-a her to him; he take-a care of her. What you say todat?”

“It shall be done!” cried Dick.

Then, of a sudden, came a loud hammering on the door at the foot of thestairs, heavy blows that resounded crashingly through that part of thebuilding.

“They have come!” said Reggio, in Italian.

CHAPTER XIX.—THE BURSTING OF THE DOOR.

Plainly the door was being attacked by heavy instruments for the purposeof battering it down. Again Teresa clutched her brother and clung tohim.

“Little sister, little sister,” he said, “if you cling to me so, howshall I defend myself?”

“I cannot lose you, Reggio!” she sobbed. “It is wicked! They shall notkill you!”

He implored her to release him.

“Let me go down and meet them,” he said. “If they come here to do thedeed, then, in order to leave no living witnesses, they may destroy youand these good American friends who have promised to help you reachAntonio Melino.”

“Do you think the assassins have come to do the work?” asked Dick, hisblack eyes gleaming.

“I think so.”

“Then give us weapons! Let’s stand together! We can thin out thisdastardly gang somewhat before they can do the job!”

“That’s the talk, pard!” shouted Buckhart. “Whoop! If we were suppliedwith shooting irons, we’d sure come pretty near wiping the old Ten offthe map to-night. Give us something—anything! We’ll make a hole in thebunch! You hear me warble?”

“It is madness!” exclaimed the gondolier, as the blows continued toresound. “It means the death of all! Flee with Teresa! For her sake——”

Brad had been looking around. The room was rather poorly furnished. Atone side sat a rude wooden table. This the Texan seized, turning itbottom up in a twinkling. Planting his foot upon it, the Texan grasped aleg of the table and gave it a mighty wrench, literally twisting it off.This leg he flourished over his head.

“Here’s my war club, pard!” he shouted. “I opine I can crack a head withthat.”

Dick followed Brad’s example, and in a moment or two he had torn offanother leg of the table.

Reggio looked on in wonderment. He could not understand why theseAmerican boys should sacrifice their lives for him. Never before in allhis life had he seen boys like these.

Teresa clasped her hands and gazed at them also, her eyes kindling withunspeakable admiration.

Crash! crash! crash! sounded the heavy blows.

The door was falling.

Suddenly Reggio awoke. His bloodstained knife appeared once more in hishand, and he flourished it above his head.

“Let them come, then!” he cried. “If we all die, we’ll do what we can todestroy the Ten who have a hundred poor Venetians beneath their feet!”

“That’s the talk!” said Dick, whose face was flushed and whose eyesgleamed, “To the stairs, Reggio! Let Teresa hold the light, that we maysee. There will be some broken heads before they do the job they haveblocked out.”

“Talk about Texas!” burst from Brad. “Why, Texas is a Sunday-schoolpicnic all the time compared with Venice! The wild and woolly West won’tseem half so wild and woolly to me if I ever get back to it.”

Teresa was brave. She caught up the candle, and said she was ready. Asthey hurried from the room to the stairs, the door fell with a sound ofsplintered wood.

“Just in time!” exclaimed Dick, hearing many voices and the sound offeet at the foot of the stairs.

They reached the head of the flight. Teresa was close at hand, and sheheld the candle as high as she could reach, in order that its lightmight shine down those stairs.

At the bottom of the flight were a number of men—not less than six orseven. They paused as the light revealed them.

Reggio Tortora gave a shout of astonishment.

“They are not the Ten!” he declared. “The Ten are always in cloaks andhoods.”

“Then who are they?” questioned Dick.

“Bravos, desperadoes of the city—men who rob and murder! They have beensent by the Ten, for——”

He stopped, catching his breath. Among those men, and at the head ofthem, he saw a man whose clothing still hung dripping damp upon hislimbs. This man’s jacket was gone, and about his shoulder were manybandages. His arm was bound in a bent position to his side.

“Mullura!” gasped Reggie. “He still lives!”

“You’re right!” savagely retorted the leader of the bravos. “I stilllive, and I’ll yet have Teresa for my own! You shall die the death of adog!”

“This is a whole lot interesting!” observed Brad Buckhart.

At this point Teresa produced a slender dagger, which she held aloft,crying down the stairs:

“Ere you put your hands on me, Nicola Mullura, I’ll plunge this into myheart! It is my dead body you may obtain—no more!”

For a moment Mullura seemed taken aback. Then he forced a laugh,sneering:

“Very finely spoken, but your courage will not take you that far,beautiful Teresa. You’ll not be so foolish. I’ll take you with me toAmerica, where I am a great man, and you shall be my wife. If yourbrother agrees to this, I will not lift my hand against him, even thoughhe so nearly destroyed me to-night. Come, my Reggio, what say you?”

“Teresa, it is for you to answer,” said the gondolier.

“Then I will answer!” she exclaimed, her dark eyes flashing fire. “Notif he were king of all America would I consent!”

“You have had your answer, Nicola Mullura!” cried Reggio, insatisfaction.

“And it seemed good and hot,” chuckled Buckhart.

“Have it as you like!” snarled Mullura. “These men will soon overpoweryou. Your resistance will simply make them all the more furious.”

“Let them come on,” said Tortora; “but see that you come at their front.My knife found your shoulder a while ago. Next time, if the saints arewith me, it shall find your black heart!”

“They are going to rush in a moment, Brad!” breathed Dick. “They aregetting ready.”

“I’m ready, too,” declared the undaunted Texan. “I’ll guarantee thatI’ll crack one head, at least, with this table leg!”

Dick was right. Mullura spoke to his companions in low tones. Theygathered themselves, and with a yell, they came charging up the stairs.

“Whoop!” roared Buckhart. “Wake up snakes and hump yourselves! Now therewill be doings!” The fighting Texan seemed in his element. His faceglowed with a sort of fine frenzy.

Dick Merriwell’s eyes shone like stars. He laughed as he saw the bravoscoming. It might be a fight to the death, but, with his blood boundingin his veins, he felt no thrill of dread. He was defending the innocent;his cause was just, and he gloried in the encounter.

The desperadoes flourished their gleaming knives, seeming to hope tointimidate the defenders in that manner. In truth, they were asavage-appearing set.

Reggio, too, was undaunted. The dauntless bravery of the boys wasinfectious.

There was little time to wait. Seeming to look at one man, Dick swunghis club and smote another wretch over the head.

The fellow went whirling end over end down the stairs.

Buckhart dropped another in his tracks.

Reggio tried to get at Nicola Mullura.

“Come within reach of my arm, you dog!” he entreated. “America will loseone great man, who will return no more.”

But it was another of the ruffians who tried to get under the guard ofthe gondolier and drive his knife home.

Reggio was too quick for the man. He struck and thrust his own bladethrough the fellow’s forearm.

With a shriek, the wretch dropped his own blade, clutched his woundedarm, which quickly began to drip blood, and fell back against the manbehind him.

“Oh! if you were looking for two kids who couldn’t fight any, you’rebeginning to understand your mistake,” shouted Buckhart.

Mullura urged them on. Still he continued to take pains to keep beyondthe stroke of Reggio. The gondolier taunted him with cowardice, andbegged him to come nearer. In his desire to get at his enemy once more,he forgot the peril of the others.

Dick saw a bravo strike at Reggio, but Merriwell struck at the sametime. His club fell across the arm of the ruffian, which was broken.

In that moment, however, Dick exposed himself, and one of the ruffians,who had been struck down on the stairs, crept up and clasped him aboutthe knees.

The boy was pulled off his feet. He seized his assailant as he fell, andtogether they rolled down the stairs. Of course Merriwell’s club waslost, and he was compelled to fight the bravo hand to hand.

The man tried to get his fingers on Dick’s throat. Now, although a boy,young Merriwell was a trained athlete, and in the finest conditionpossible. If that ruffian fancied he was dealing with an ordinary boywho could be handled easily, he met the surprise of his life.

For a time they twisted and turned there in the gloom at the foot of thestairs. The boy baffled the ruffian in his efforts, all the whileseeking to secure the advantage himself.

While this was taking place Dick heard a cry of distress from Teresa,and at the same moment the candle and candlestick fell on the stairs,the light being extinguished.

At this juncture Merriwell obtained a hold on the ruffian’s arm, givingit a twisting wrench that robbed the fellow of strength and nearlyrendered him unconscious. In a twinkling the boy was the master.

Just then some one came hastening down the stairs and nearly fell overthem. This person swore as he gathered himself up and rushed out on thesteps.

Something led Dick to follow.

The darkness between the buildings was not as deep as that within, andhe saw a man placing a huge bundle in a gondola that floated at the footof the steps.

Something told Dick this bundle was Teresa. Unhesitatingly he leapedforward.

The man turned in time to meet the attack of the courageous lad. Just asDick would have grappled with the fellow, he slipped. Before he couldrecover, he received a stunning blow that hurled him flat and helpless,although he was still conscious. He lay quite still, unable to lift ahand.

The man produced a knife, seemingly determined to finish the boy withoutdelay. Although he realized his peril, young Merriwell could not lift afinger or make a move to save himself. As the desperado stepped towardhim, the lad gave himself up as done for.

At that moment, unseen by the murderous thug, another dark form issuedfrom the doorway onto the steps.

The man with the knife bent over Dick, lifting the weapon. A pantherishfigure shot forward, and a club fell with crushing force on the head ofthe wretch, who was stretched prone and senseless beside his intendedvictim.

“This yere old table leg has sure done its duty tonight,” said a voicethat thrilled Merriwell.

With a supreme effort Dick softly called:

“Brad!”

“It is you, pard!” exclaimed the Texan, in delight. “I certain wasseeking for you some! What’s the matter? Are you hurt?”

“Give me a hand,” urged Dick. “I was stunned. You saved my life,Buckhart. That fellow would have finished me only for you and your tableleg.”

In a moment Buckhart had Dick on his feet, supporting him with a strongarm.

“You’re not cut up, are you, partner?” anxiously inquired the loyalfellow. “I saw you go bumping down the stairs with one of the bunch, andI was a heap concerned for you. First opportunity I found I hiked tolook for you. I thought mebbe that galoot with the sticker might beafter you, and that’s why I lost no time in cracking him on the kabeza.”

“I don’t think I’ve been cut. Couldn’t tell just what did happen in thefighting, but I believe I’ll be all right in a few moments.”

“Then it’s up to us to do something for Teresa. I sure would like toknow what has become of her. The gang up there are hunting high and lowfor her.”

“Why, one of them brought her down the stairs and placed her in thisgondola. I’m sure of it.”

“Great horn spoon! Then it’s us to the gondola and away from here!”

“But Reggio?”

“We can’t do anything for him.”

“Why not?”

“They’ve finished him.”

“Killed him? Do you mean that?”

“That’s whatever. Teresa dropped the candle when she saw him knifed.Didn’t you hear her scream?”

“You’re sure—you’re sure Reggio was killed?”

“Dead sure, pard.”

“Then let’s get away in the gondola. If I was not mistaken in thinkingthis wretch placed Teresa in it, we can save her, at least.”

Dick was not mistaken, as they found when they sprang into the boat.Teresa lay unconscious amid the cushions.

By this time Merriwell had recovered his strength in a measure, and hestarted to cast off the line that held the boat beside the steps.

“The galoots are coming, pard!” hissed Brad, as he seized the oar.

The bravos were coming. Just as Dick freed the line from the iron ring,several of them hastened out onto the steps.

The Texan gave a great thrust with the oar, pushing the gondola away.

The voice of Nicola Mullura shouted to them, commanding them to stop.

“We’re in a hurry,” retorted Dick. “Our time is very valuable. We can’tstop just now.”

“Not even a little minute,” said Brad, as he continued to use the oarwith as much skill as he could command.

“Look out, Brad!” shouted Dick, warningly, at the same time droppingquickly.

He had seen Mullura making a sweeping movement with his right arm.

Dick dropped barely in time, for through the air whizzed a knife, castwith great precision, and with such force that it clanged against thewall of the opposite house, dropping back with a splash into the water.

“A miss is as good as a mile,” said Merriwell. “But look out foryourself, Brad. Another may follow.”

Another of the desperadoes did cast a knife at them, but his aim waspoor, and soon the gondola shot out from the narrow passage onto thebosom of a broader canal.

They came near colliding with another boat that was moving swiftly andsilently along.

“Look out, there!” cried Brad. “Clear the trail for us, or you may getyourself run down a whole lot.”

Behind the curtains of the other gondola there was a stir. The curtainsparted and a familiar face peered forth in the moonlight.

“Hi, there—hey!” cried the excited voice of Professor Gunn. “Stop!stop! I have found you!”

“Professor!” exclaimed Dick. “Where have you been?”

“Seeking assistance. Looking for officers. Can’t find them. Had no endof trouble. Bless my stars! I was afraid I’d never see you boys aliveagain. Goodness knows I’m thankful to behold you!”

“But what made you leave us?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t intend to do it. I was excited. I confess I wasexcited. Who wouldn’t be under such circumstances? Two men—two mad menwere trying to cut each other into shreds right before my eyes. Islipped the line from the ring. Didn’t know what I was doing. The tidecarried the boat away. I clutched the oar and tried to row back. Made amess of it, and lost the oar. In the midst of my excitement, after thetide had carried me out of that canal, a human head appeared beside theboat. Yes, sir—exactly so. A man was in the water. He was hurt, too.Swam with one arm. Other arm didn’t seem to have much strength. Heappealed to me for assistance. Of course I rendered assistance.”

“Which certain was the worst thing you could have done,” said Brad.“That’s how Mullura escaped, Dick.”

“The man must be a fine swimmer. In some manner he swam under waterafter falling into the canal until the darkness of the place hid himcompletely.”

“It was a bad thing—a very bad thing,” agreed the professor. “The manwas a wretch, a scoundrel, a villain!”

“Which sure are too soft names for him,” growled Buckhart.

The two gondolas were now side by side.

“Quite true, quite true,” agreed the excitable old man. “I found it out.But I couldn’t refuse to help a man in distress, you know. I helped himon board. He managed to pick up the oar. Then, using his uninjured hand,he rowed. I urged him to take me back to find you. He cursed me. He toldme to keep still or he would cut my heart out. My goodness! I didn’twant him to do that! I kept still.”

“A most natural thing to do,” said Dick.

“I am glad you say so—very glad. Hum! ha! My position wasunpleasant—decidedly so. But I kept still. He handled the gondola. Hedid it cleverly. But he lost no time in dodging into another canal. Iremonstrated. I told him I did not like the place. It was too dark. Heinvited me to be quiet. I relapsed into silence. Here and there in thedarkness he went. At last he stopped. He ordered me to land. I wascompelled to do so. I didn’t dare raise another remonstrance. He leftme. I was in a scrape. Ha! hum! It was a very bad scrape.”

Plainly the professor was very anxious to set himself right in the eyesof the boys.

“After that?” questioned Dick.

“When he left me he told me if I raised a rumpus he would come back andslice me. I couldn’t get away, and I had no weapon to protect myself, soI was compelled to be quiet. I remained there until this gondola camepast. Then I applied to the gondolier. Since that time I have beensearching to find that canal where you were. That is all.”

In some respects the professor’s explanation seemed unsatisfactory, but,of course, the boys accepted it. Dick explained what had happened afterthe disappearance of Zenas, using as few words as possible.

“Dreadful! horrible!” cried the old man. “Can such things be in thesedays! But you rescued the girl?”

“She is here,” said Dick.

At this point Teresa, recovering consciousness, began calling for herbrother.

Dick tried to soothe her, but, overcome by the memory of what she hadbeheld ere dropping the candle and fainting, the girl ravedincoherently.

Dick and Brad quickly decided to abandon the gondola they occupied andtake to the other. Merriwell picked Teresa up and stepped with her fromone boat to the other, the Texan following.

“Now to our rooms,” said Dick. “That is our only course. We must takecare of Teresa. We must protect her with our lives.”

“And you bet we will!” put in Brad.

“But I fear it is certain to involve us still further with the assassinsknown as the Terrible Ten,” sighed the professor. “Still, boys, you areright about Teresa. We must stand by her. We must do everything in ourpower for her. It is our duty as men and Americans.”

The gondolier was given directions, and he sent his craft gliding away.

“What puzzles me,” said Brad, “is that the rumpus made by that fightdidn’t seem to stir up anybody much. That plenty of people heard it I amsure, but they didn’t come hiking to see what it was all about.”

“Because in that particular quarter of the city it is not safe to be toocurious, I fancy,” said Dick. “I believe that explained why no one whoheard the sounds of the encounter came to investigate. They all keptstill and prayed that they would not be involved.”

“I have a theory,” put in Professor Gunn, “that the people of the citylive in great terror of this awful Ten. They do not even dare speak ofthe Ten, but all the while they fear it as much as the old-time Councilof Ten was feared. When they hear anything like that encounter, theyproceed to crawl into their holes and barricade themselves there untilthe storm blows over.”

“Well, it sure is high time something was done to put an end to such areign of terror,” declared the Texan. “It’s up to us to expose thedoings of the Ten. I don’t see why somebody hasn’t exposed them longbefore this.”

“It is doubtful if any foreigners, except ourselves, ever learned muchof anything about the Ten,” said Dick. “That is one reason why there hadbeen no exposure.”

The gondolier did not seem to hear a word of their talk. Professor Gunnnow resolved to question him. The old man proceeded to ask him severalthings about the Terrible Ten, but the man at the oar shook his head andanswered that he knew nothing of such a body. He even became somewhatangry when Zenas persisted in his questions.

“Signor,” he said haughtily, “why should you believe that I speak afalsehood? I am a poor man, and I attend to my own business. I have notime to listen to foolish gossip. You say there is such a body. I wouldnot be impolite, signor, so I simply say that of it I know nothing atall. I must beg you to ask no further questions.”

Through all this Teresa had continued to mutter and moan about herbrother. They could do nothing to comfort her. Dick tried it, but hisItalian was poor, and he entreated the professor to say somethingsoothing to the girl.

Gently the old man placed an arm about her shoulders.

“My child,” he said, “your brother was a brave, man, but he could notescape the decree of this terrible band. He knew he could not escape,and he entreated Richard, as a great favor, to take you to America anddeliver you to friends of your family who are there. This we shall do.Trust us.”

“I do trust you, signor,” she sobbed; “but I cannot forget the terriblething I saw—my brother slain before my eyes! I can never forget that!”

“No wonder, dear child. You should be thankful you escaped from thosemen.”

“Until I am far away from Venice I shall not feel that I have escaped.Nicola Mullura will do everything in his power to place his bloody handson me. I shall live in constant terror of him.”

“He shall never touch you!” cried Zenas. “Boys, she fears the wretch,Mullura, will get possession of her.”

“Teresa,” said Dick, using as good Italian as he could command, “weswear to defend you with our lives. You may depend on us.”

“You are such brave boys—such wonderfully brave boys!” murmured thegirl.

“I can’t say it in dago talk,” put in Brad; “but you bet your boots,Teresa, that what my pard has promised, we’ll back up. You hear meshout!”

CHAPTER XX.—THE OATH OF TERESA.

Fearing she might do something rash in her distress and occasionalspells of delirium, Dick and Brad took turns watching over Teresa thatnight.

The girl was given one of the three rooms taken by the professor and theboys in a private house. It was useless to urge her to retire. With thehorror of what had happened, upon her, and in great fear that Mullurawould find her, she kept her clothes on and slept on the outside of thebed. The door between that room and the adjoining one, in which the boysremained that they might be near her, was left slightly ajar at herrequest.

It was long past midnight before she slept at all. When they peered in,they discovered her lying staring up at the ceiling, her face pale andher lips moving, as if in prayer.

“Pard,” said Brad, “she sure is a right pretty girl.”

“She is,” agreed Dick. “But you mustn’t forget Nadia Budthorne, oldman.”

“Now quit!” remonstrated the Texan soberly. “No danger that I’ll getsmashed on this girl, partner. My sympathy for her is aroused a heap,that’s all.”

“When a fellow becomes very sympathetic for a pretty girl, he’s liableto fall in love with her. I fancy your sympathy was aroused for Nadia,to begin with.”

“Well, I don’t judge it was a case of sympathy between you and JuneArlington.”

“She certainly deserves sympathy,” said Dick. “Think of her finebrother!”

“I don’t want to think of him!” growled the Texan. “Of all onerycoyotes, he certain is the worst!”

“He’s about as bad as they make ’em,” nodded Dick.

“And to think that you even fancied there could be any good in him! Longago you could have turned him out of Fardale by speaking a word, but youlet up on him until at last he drove you out. Pard, I say fair and openthat I like you a-plenty, but I do think you made a mistake withArlington. You must know it now.”

Dick was silent for some moments.

“Perhaps you are right,” he finally confessed. “I suppose you are. But Ihad rather make a mistake by being too generous than to make one in theopposite direction. It isn’t natural for me to be easy with an enemy. Ilove revenge. But I took my brother for my model. I’m not sorry, either.I think I have changed my revengeful nature to a certain degree. Thebest friend Frank has in the world, Bart Hodge, was originally hisbitterest enemy. Had Frank been revengeful, Hodge might have beenruined. He says so himself. Even if Frank were to make a hundredmistakes in generosity, that one instance—that one good result—wouldmore than outweigh them all. Had I been revengeful, I should have foughtHal Darrell to the bitter end. Such a struggle between us must have beendisastrous for one of us at Fardale. I became satisfied that there waslittle chance that Arlington would reform, and, after becoming thussatisfied, I continued to be lenient with him. You know I gave mypromise to his sister, and I couldn’t go back on my word.”

“She must be a whole lot sore with herself for exacting such a promise.Wonder what she thinks about it now?”

“I don’t know. I’ll know some time. But Arlington is not going totriumph in the end. I shall return to Fardale. We’re both going backwith the professor. Then it will be my day.”

“And I sure hope you make the most of it. If you get your innings, itwill be up to you to rub it into Arlington good and hard.”

This led them to speculating about what was taking place at the oldschool while they were traveling in foreign lands. They remained talkingin low tones until finally, on peering into the next room, it was foundthat Teresa had fallen asleep.

Brad went to bed, with the understanding that he was to be called at acertain hour for the purpose of remaining on guard during the latterpart of the night. Already Professor Gunn was snoring in his room.

Buckhart was soon sleeping. About an hour later Dick heard a low,moaning sound coming from the girl’s room.

He hastened to the door.

Teresa was sitting on the edge of the bed, her hands clasped over herheart, staring fixedly at the wall, the moaning sound issuing from herpale lips. Merriwell lost no time in reaching her side.

“What is it?” he asked. “Is there anything I can do, Teresa?”

“Look!” she whispered. “I see him—I see my brother, dead on the stairs!Nicola Mullura has killed him!”

“There, there!” said the boy, soothingly, trying his best to speak herlanguage so she would understand. “You must sleep—you must try toforget it for a while.”

Night passed and morning came, and a great change had come over Teresa.She even greeted her friends with a smile!

“I am glad to see you feel better, Teresa,” said Dick.

“I do feel better, good friend. I am almost happy now.”

“Great horn spoon!” muttered Brad. “And she saw her brother done todeath last night! Trouble runs off these Venetians like water off aduck.”

They had breakfast, and through it all the girl maintained the sameunnatural light and lively manner.

After breakfast she suggested that, in order to bring no further perilon them, she should depart.

“Not at all!” cried Zenas. “You must remain right here. I am going tothe authorities. I am going to inform them all about this band of Ten.I’ll know if they will permit such a thing in Venice. They must bestirthemselves! It is high time.”

“Then you may leave me here,” said Teresa eagerly.

At the first opportunity, young Merriwell called Brad into one of theother rooms.

“Brad, I want you to remain here and keep watch over Teresa,” he said.“She is not herself, and may do something rash. Professor Gunn and I aregoing to see the authorities. Then we’re going to see that a search ismade for the body of Reggio. I don’t believe it will be found, for Ihave an idea that the assassins cast it into the water, and the tide hascarried it far out to sea before this. Still it is our duty to have asearch made for it.”

“Sure as shooting.”

“You’ll watch her closely, Brad?”

“She may object some, but I’ll do my prettiest, Dick.”

“Good! Now, I have to explain to her and urge her to remain here untilwe bring back some sort of a report.”

Teresa frowned and shook her head when he told her of the plan.

“I want no one to stay,” she said. “You shall all go.”

“Oh, no, no!” put in Professor Gunn. “We couldn’t think of that, mydear—couldn’t think of it. It wouldn’t be proper. Bradley will remainhere to protect you from peril of any sort, and I assure you that he isa brave and noble lad. I do not think I quite understand him at school,but since seeing that he is brave as a lion and generous to a fault, Iappreciate him fully.”

“Thank you, professor,” said the Texan. “You’re some complimentary thismorning.”

“But not flattering. The truth is never flattery if it is spoken in theright spirit. I am proud to pay this tribute to your fine qualities. Ishall be proud to do so before the entire school when we return toFardale.”

“Oh, Jerusalem! don’t do that, professor!” gasped Buckhart, appalled. “Iwouldn’t have you for a barrel of money!”

“Eh? Wouldn’t? Why not?”

“Why, I’d certain take to the tall timber on the jump if you did it. I’dhunt a hole and stay there till the fellows forgot it. They would guy meto death.”

“Would they?” cried Zenas, surprised and displeased. “Now, don’t youthink anything of the sort! I’d like to know of them trying it.”

“But you wouldn’t know, you see.”

“You might tell me. It would be your duty to tell me.”

“People do not always do their duty in this world.”

The old pedagogue was surprised and puzzled. He had not fancied Buckharta modest boy, but now, of a sudden, he realized that the Texan wasgenuinely modest in a way.

“We’ll say no more about it now, Bradley,” he said gravely. “I believe Iam beginning to understand you more and more. You are a very singularlad—very.”

In spite of Teresa’s objections, Brad was left to look out for her,while Dick and the professor departed.

More than two hours later they returned. They had succeeded in reportingto the authorities, but their tale had been received with such apparentincredulity that both were vexed and angered. They had received apromise that the matter should be investigated. More than that, anofficial had accompanied them to the home of the Tortoras.

On arriving there they found the broken door had been restored andrepaired, although not all the signs of the attack upon it had beenhidden. There was no blood on the steps outside the door, nor on thestairs where Reggio had been stabbed by Mullura.

The body of the gondolier was not found.

The woman who owned the house explained that there had been carousing inthe rooms the previous night, and that her tenants, apparently fearingejectment, had vanished ere morning.

“But they left all their belongings here,” said Professor Gunn.

“No, no!” exclaimed the woman. “They took everything. Not one thingbelonging to them did they leave.”

She persisted in this statement, and all the questions put to her didnot confuse her. She also declared she had found no trace of blood onthe stairs.

“Then why have those stairs been washed this morning?” demanded Dick.

“It is my custom to have them washed every morning.”

“Question others in the house,” urged Professor Gunn.

But other people in the house were very loath to answer questions, andno satisfaction could be obtained from them.

“They are one and all terrified by the Ten,” asserted Dick. “They darenot confess that they heard the sounds of the fight last night. It islikely they have been warned to be silent.”

“It’s a fine state of affairs!” exclaimed Zenas, exasperated.

The official made a gesture of helplessness.

“You see there is nothing that can be done, signors,” he said.

“And are you going to let this thing go right on in Venice? It will ruinyour city. You may have kept it quiet thus far, but it shall bepublished to the world now. Travelers will cease coming here. Then whatwill you do? You live off tourists. But for them the city would go tothe dogs in a short time. It’s up to you to take hold of this matter inearnest and bring this band of robbers and assassins to justice.”

“We care not for your advice,” was the haughty answer.

That ended it. Believing nothing could be done, Dick and the professorfinally returned to their waiting gondola, and gave the gondolierdirections to take them back to their lodgings. The official entered hisboat and was rowed away.

Zenas fussed and fumed, but it was useless. Dick took it more calmly.

But when they reached their own rooms an unpleasant surprise awaitedthem.

Teresa was gone.

Likewise Brad Buckhart!

CHAPTER XXI.—THE LAST STROKE.

The landlady was called, but she declared that the boy and girl had leftwithout her knowledge. She had not seen them go, and she had not theleast idea whither they had gone.

“Strange Brad left no word,” said Dick. “He should have left a note, atleast.”

But they found nothing to tell them what had become of the missing ones.

“This is awful!” exclaimed the professor, mopping his face with hishandkerchief. “I fear some fearful thing has happened to Bradley. And wecan do absolutely nothing with the authorities.”

“Come!” cried Dick. “At least, we can report it.”

They hastened to the steps and called to a gondolier who was slowlypropelling his boat past.

“In this city it is impossible to follow a trail,” said Dick. “Thesewatery streets leave no scent. A bloodhound would be useless here.”

They gave the gondolier his orders. He took them by several short cutson the way to their destination. They were passing through a narrowcanal when Dick’s attention became drawn by some mysterious influence toa dark door set in a wall some distance above the water.

Suddenly that door flew open before his eyes. Cloaked and hooded menappeared within the doorway, their faces concealed from view.

“Goodness!” gasped the professor, in astonishment. “Who are theyRichard? What are they doing?”

Dick did not answer, for a strange thrill had shot over him at sight ofthose men, among whom a silent struggle seemed taking place.

All at once, before their startled eyes a human figure was hurledheadlong from that mysterious doorway, whirling over and over in theair!

It was Brad Buckhart!

Dick recognized his friend. He saw Brad strike the water and disappearwith a great splash. Then he called a sharp order to the gondolier.

The black door closed above them, and the mysterious men in cloaks andhoods were hidden from view.

It was not long before Brad rose to the surface, spouting water like awhale.

“Hello, pard!” he cheerfully called. “This ain’t the first time I’vebeen in swimming with my clothes on.”

In a moment he was at the side of the gondola and drawn, dripping wet,upon it.

“For the love of goodness, explain this, Brad!” urged Dick.

“Been back to our ranch?” questioned the Texan.

“Yes.”

“Get my note?”

“No.”

“That’s right queer.”

“Did you leave a note?”

“Sure thing. I left one telling you how I could do nothing with Teresaunless I held her by main strength. She became a whole lot unmanageableafter you left. Reason didn’t cut any ice with her—none whatever. Shewas bound to go forth to some friends she knew. At last I opined I’d gowith her, if she did go. I called a gondolier, and we hiked merrily onour way. She did have some people she knew, all right, and they livesomewhere in this ranch. This is the back door. We entered from thefront. The minute she got with her friends she allowed it was up to meto amble and leave her.

“Say, it’s no use trying to reason with a girl. Talk was wasted. Shejust got up and left me. I might have departed in peace, but I took anotion to explore the ranch. I prowled round through it. Don’t know howmany rooms I roamed through, but finally I didn’t know which way to getout. I wandered through a passage and opened a door. Next thing I knew Iwas in trouble. I had stumbled right into a mess of galoots all sittinground solemn as owls in a circle. They wore black cloaks and hoods thathid their faces. Before I could say Jack Robinson they had me. I put upthe best fight I knew how, for I judged they were going to do me forkeeps. I don’t want to boast, but I certain soaked some of the bunch afew swats in the slats that they will remember. It wasn’t any use. Theyjust hustled me along to that door up there and pitched me out into thedrink. That’s the whole story, and here I am, a heap wet, but stilllively and chipper.”

“Brad,” questioned Dick eagerly, “how many of those cloaked men werethere?”

“Didn’t have time to count ’em. I know what you’re thinking, pard, and Icertain agree with you that it’s some likely I ran slam into theTerrible Ten. I judge they were holding a council of war when I burst inon them.”

“And Teresa is somewhere in that building. Brad, we must make an attemptto find her.”

“Anything you say goes.”

“Boys, boys, boys!” spluttered the professor, turning pale. “You’ll cometo your death through such rashness. I must object. I must protect you.It is my duty. What will Frank say if I fail to do my duty?”

But the boys were both reckless and determined. It was not long beforethey were at the front of the house into which Buckhart averred he hadescorted Teresa. They landed on the steps, urging Zenas to wait for themin the boat.

Another gondola floated at the steps, the gondolier idly waiting forsome one.

“This wasn’t here a short time ago,” said Brad. “Somebody has visitorsin the house, I judge.”

They obtained admittance, but to their surprise Professor Gunn clung tothem.

“I’m going to stick by you, even if it costs me my life,” he said.

Barely were they inside when they were startled by a scream.

“The voice of Teresa!” exclaimed Dick. “She’s up there somewhere!”

They rushed up the stairs. The door of a room stood open. In that roomTeresa Tortora was struggling in the arms of a man, and that man wasNicola Mullura.

“I have found you, my pretty bird!” cried Mullura, in satisfaction. “Itraced you here. Now you are mine, and you cannot escape!”

A door at the opposite end of the room, and directly behind the back ofthe desperado, suddenly and silently opened. Through the doorway steppeda man whose face was pale as death, and whose eyes shone with a fearfullight.

Dick and Brad were turned to stone, for the man was Reggio Tortora, whomthey had thought dead!

Tortora did not see them. His eyes were fastened on his sister andMullura. With swift and noiseless steps, he rushed upon the man,clutching him about the neck and twisting him backward over a bent leg.

Mullura, being thus flung backward and held helpless, could lookstraight up into the face of Tortora.

“You dog!” panted Reggio. “You left me for dead last night, but a womanfound me and bandaged my wounds. She kept me from bleeding to death, andnow I am here to kill you! Your time has come, and you die the death youdeserve!”

Then his hand, gripping a knife, rose and fell!

For a long time the Venetian police had been investigating the storiesof the Terrible Ten. Already they had found sufficient evidence, butthey were waiting for the proper moment to bag the whole Ten at a swoop.

On the very day that Reggio Tortora killed Nicola Mullura the policedescended on the rascals, who had begun to create such a reign of terrorin Venice, and captured them all. The evidence against them wasoverwhelming, and the whole ten were given the full punishment which thelaw provided for their crimes.

As for Reggio, he easily satisfied the law that he had killed Mullura indefense of his sister, after Mullura had failed in an effort toassassinate him, and therefore, he was formally acquitted.

His escape from death he had truthfully described to Mullura erestriking the fatal blow. A woman whom he had befriended in the housewhere he lived had bandaged his wounds and hidden him away, although inmortal terror of her life while doing so. Of course she had declared,when questioned, that she knew nothing of the desperate encounter on thestairs.

The gratitude of both Reggio and Teresa toward their American friendswas very great.

The joy of the girl who had thus found her brother may be imagined, butno words can describe it. It happened that Reggio had come to thosefriends for shelter, and thus he had been on hand when Mullura appeared.

“Well, partner,” said Buckhart, after all these matters had beensettled, “we’ve certain had a warm time in Venice while it lasted. Itwas somewhat too warm, but this calm after the storm is altogether toocalm. I’m getting a bit restless. I think we’d better float on.”

“So do I,” nodded Dick. “What do you say, professor?”

“All right, boys—all right,” nodded Zenas. “We’ll jog along intoGreece, but it will be just like you to get into some sort of troublethere and keep me nerved up all the time.”

“Hurrah for Greece!” cried Dick.

CHAPTER XXII.—BEFORE THE PARTHENON.

“There it is, boys—there it is!” exclaimed Professor Zenas Gunn, in avoice that actually choked with deep emotion. “Behold ‘the casket of therarest architectural jewels of the world—the temple-crownedAcropolis’!”

“She seems to be a right big old rock,” observed Brad Buckhart; “or isshe just a hill?”

“Both a rock and a hill, Brad,” laughed Dick Merriwell. “It is mainly anatural mass of rock, but in places it has been built up by substantialmasonry.”

“Correct, Richard,” nodded the professor, approvingly. “It is plain youhave posted up on the Acropolis and that you remember something of whatyou read. I regret that, in spite of my advice, Bradley seems muchdisinclined to post himself in advance concerning the historical spotswe choose to visit.”

“What’s the use?” said the Texan. “I know you’ll tell us all about them,professor, and I’ll remember it a heap better by hearing you tell it,than by reading it in a dry, old book. You have such a fascinating wayof telling things, you know, that any one who hears you can’t helpremembering every word you speak.”

“Hum! ha!” coughed Zenas, much flattered. “I presume that is true. Ithink it quite probable you are correct. Under the circumstances,Bradley, you are excusable.”

The two boys and the professor had arrived at the port of Athens nearsundown the previous day. The sail through Grecian waters on a finesteamer was one long to be remembered. Repeatedly the professor remindedthem that they were traversing the scenes of famous maritime adventuresand struggles of ancient history, and that every shore they beheld hadbeen made famous by poets, philosophers and wise men of the days whenGreece was the pride, the glory, and the envy of the world.

Night had fallen before the trio reached the capital, which is locatedsix miles from the port. Therefore, being tired and somewhat spiritless,they suppressed their desire to look around and waited for the followingday.

And now, beneath the bright morning sunshine, they viewed the Acropolis,which, on account of its history, the professor declared was the mostwonderful sight in all the world.

On three sides this great mass of rock and masonry, which looms abovethe modern city at its base, is practically perpendicular. On its summitstand the white columns and pillars of its ruined temples, which twothousand years ago were perfect in their grandeur and which are concededto have been specimens of architectual beauty never equaled in moderntimes.

“Think,” said the professor; “think of Greece in the glorious days whenyonder rock was crowned with beautiful temples! We’ll mount to itscrest, boys, and soon our feet may touch the very stones once pressed bythe feet of Demosthenes. We will stand beside pillars whose shadows mayhave fallen on Pericles and Phidias. Is it not enough to stir a heart ofstone! Let us hasten.”

The old pedagogue was actually trembling with eagerness and excitement.

“All right, professor,” said Dick. “Lead on and we’ll follow.”

“Yes,” said Brad, “hike as fast as you choose, and we’ll keep up withyou.”

To their surprise they found the city very modern in appearance, andthis surprise was increased on beholding a train of street cars drawn byan ordinary steam engine. Still the people were interesting in theirnative garments, and the language was what they had expected to hear.

At last they approached the Acropolis. As they drew near they beheldaround its base a mass of ruins of the most picturesque character.

“Whatever sort of buildings were those, professor?” inquired the Texan.

“They were theatres,” answered the old man. “The theatre of Bacchus, ofOdeon, and others stood at the base of the great rock. You behold theruins of those theatres. Somewhere in this vicinity is the dungeon ofSocrates, in which he drank the hemlock. We’ll find it ere we leaveAthens.”

They were compelled to make inquiry of a peasant before they found theonly path by which the great rock could be ascended. The professor foundit necessary to rest several times before the summit was reached, butstill his enthusiasm buoyed him up in a wonderful manner.

As they reached the plateau the professor turned to look back on thecity spread below them.

“Yes,” he said, nodding and speaking as if addressing himself, “I hadalmost forgotten. Why, it was only a little more than half a century agothat Athens was demolished by the Turks. Hardly a house in the place wasleft in condition for human beings to inhabit it. That is why we seethis modern city here.”

Although they did not betray it as much as did the professor, both ladswere profoundly moved by their situation.

For a few moments Dick seemed to feel himself transported back toFardale, and he saw himself in his little room poring over Homer’selectrifying verse or deep buried in Xenophon’s incomparable prose. Heknew that from this hour, as he stood by the pillared gateway of theAcropolis, he would understand the old Greek poets and philosophersbetter and appreciate them more.

“Come, boys,” said Professor Gunn, in a hushed tone, “we’ll pass throughthis ruined gateway, which was called the Propylæa, and which cost twoand a half million dollars. Think of that! Think of it, and then beholdthese ruins. Touch them reverently with your hands. You are treading onsacred ground.”

When they had passed beyond the ruined gateway all halted in wonderment,for before them spread the entire plateau and they saw it was literallybestrewn with fallen columns and shattered statues. And directly beforethem, at the highest point of the plateau, rose the ruins of a snowywhite temple, the Parthenon.

The spectacle was one to render them silent and speechless. They stoodquite still and gazed in awe at the ruins.

At last Zenas spoke. He had his hat in his hand, and he mopped hisforehead with a handkerchief, although the day was cool.

“Words fail me, boys,” he said. “I wonder if you understand what it isto behold this spectacle. Look on this scene of desolation wrought bythe hand of ruthless man. It is quite enough to make the gods weep!”

“However was she ruined, professor?” inquired Brad.

“It occurred something like two hundred years ago. At that time theParthenon stood almost unchanged in its matchless magnificence. TheTurks used it as a powder magazine. The city was besieged by an army ofVenetians. They bombarded the town. One of their shells exploded in thepowder magazine. Behold the result!”

“Say, that was a whole lot bad!” exclaimed the Texan. “It sure was ashame!”

“Let’s get nearer,” urged Dick.

They threaded their way amid the ruined columns and statues, drawingnearer to the ruins of the Parthenon. The professor told them how theParthenon had been despoiled of its treasures.

At that moment they seemed to be quite alone on the plateau of theAcropolis, but suddenly, from amid the pillars of the temple, dashed aGrecian girl, who did not seem to be more than sixteen years of age. Shesaw them and uttered a cry.

A moment later two men appeared in close pursuit of her. Both wereGreeks. One was a man of forty-five or a little more, while the othercould not have been much past twenty-one. They shouted for the girl tostop.

She ran toward the boys and the old professor, and the cry that camefrom her lips was one of terror and appeal. Her pursuers were close onher heels.

“By the great horn spoon!” shouted Buckhart, “here is where we mingle ina red-hot old scrimmage, pard! There will be something doing on the topof the Acrop in a moment!”

“Boys, boys, boys!” exclaimed the professor, in great agitation andalarm. “Do be careful! Those men look dangerous!”

“Would you have us see a woman in distress without showing our manhood?”demanded Dick, as he also prepared for an encounter. “We’ll protect her,Brad.”

“Now you’re shouting!” cried the Texan. “We’ll certain check thecareless behavior of those gents some.”

“Englishmen—good Englishmen!” cried the girl; “save me!”

She was panting and wild-eyed as she reached them. She seized Dick’s armwith her shaking hands. In truth she was very pretty, with clear-cutGrecian features and eyes as blue as the skies of Athens.

“We’re not Englishmen,” said Dick, “but you can count on us just thesame.”

“You bet you can, just as long as the American eagle flaps its wings tothe tune of Yankee Doodle,” asserted Brad.

Dick placed her behind them saying:

“Look out for her, professor, while we discuss the matter with theseboisterous gentlemen.”

“Boys, boys, boys!” again fluttered the old man. “Do be careful! Do bediscreet! You’ll get us all into no end of trouble.”

By this time the two men had reached the spot, and the elder at oncedemanded in Greek the possession of the maiden.

“Although we’ve scanned that language under compulsion,” said Dick, “weare not prepared to talk it. If you will use plain United States, we maybe able to chat with you.”

With an assumption of politeness, the man immediately begged theirpardon in fairly good English, saying he had not thought in hisexcitement to address them in other than his own language.

“The girl,” he said; “I take her.”

“Wait a bit,” remonstrated Merriwell, declining to move. “As you cantalk a modern language, we’ll discuss this matter. The girl seemsfrightened. What is all the trouble about?”

The elder man drew himself up haughtily, while the younger glowered onthe boys.

“It is no bus’ness to you,” was the answer.

“Then I opine we’ll have to make it our business,” muttered Buckhart.

“But she is frightened, and she seeks our protection,” said Dick. “It isthe habit of all decent Americans to protect women in distress.”

“Let him not touch me!” entreated the girl, speaking again with thatindescribably bewitching accent which Dick had noted in her first appealto them.

“She mere child,” said the man haughtily. “I am her uncle, and I takeher.”

“Oh, you’re her uncle?”

“I am.”

“Well, tell us why she fled from you and seemed so excited andfrightened.”

“No bus’ness to you,” again asserted the man.

“He want make me do something I hate!” exclaimed the girl. “He make memarree Maro.”

“Oh, ho! And who is Maro?”

The girl pointed at the younger man.

“And you do not wish to marry Maro?” questioned Dick.

“Oh, no, no, no!”

“Don’t blame you,” put in Brad. “If Maro wears that thundercloud on hismug all the time, he’d frighten a Hottentot, much more a civilized girl.Go change your face, Maro.”

The young man did not seem to understand this fully, but he darted adeadly look at Brad, then urged his companion to make a move at once.

“Look out, boys—look out!” panted Professor Gunn. “He says you are merechildren and easily crushed. He wants to attack you at once.”

“Whoop!” cried Brad, squaring away. “Let him wade right in! Let themboth break loose and come at us! They’ll find the children ready forbusiness, you bet your boots!”

“Steady, Brad,” cautioned Dick. “We’ll fight if we have to.”

“And I sure reckon we’ll have to, pard.”

“It looks that way, but let’s not rush matters. Keep a cool head.”

Dick feared the men were armed, which would give them an additionaladvantage. Under ordinary circumstances it would not seem a difficultthing for them to obtain the mastery over the two boys, but those boys,in spite of their years, were remarkable athletes and clever fighters,and they believed they could hold the Greeks good play unless deadlyweapons were produced. Neither lad counted on assistance from ProfessorGunn.

The elder man grew impatient and again demanded possession of the girl,asserting that the boys would be punished for interfering, as he was theone who had sole authority over her.

“Where is her father?” asked Dick. “Is he dead?”

“Not dead,” explained the girl quickly. “In India. He leaf me withTyrus.”

“So the old boy’s name is Tyrus?” muttered Brad.

“Tyrus Helorus,” said the man haughtily. “If wise, you not int’fere inGreece with one who have name Helorus.”

“The Helorus you say!” grinned Brad.

“That what I say!”

“Thanks! You’re so kind! I reckon we’d better introduce ourselves.Gents, this here is Dick Merriwell, a fighter from his toes to his scalplock. He lives on scrimmages. To him a good fight is the breath of life.If he goes a whole day without a fight he loses flesh and becomes awhole lot downcast. I’ve seen him whip seven men in concussion. He looksyoung, but he’s fought enough to be older than these ruins. I’ll wagerthe contents of my warbags that the professor and I can sit down andlook on comfortable while he wallops the both of you in one round.”

“That will about do,” muttered Dick.

“Wait,” urged Brad. “Don’t cut me out of presenting myself. I, gents, amBradley Buckhart, from the Rio Pecos country, Texas, U. S. I’ve beenbrought up where they have man for breakfast every morning. It gets tobe a regular morning treat for us in Texas. I am some off my feed justat present, not having had any man this morning. You’ve happened alongjust in time to relieve my famished condition. So sail in, both of you,and we’ll proceed to chaw you up. You hear me sweetly carol!”

The Greeks looked at him in bewilderment, and well they might. It islikely that they took this talk for a bluff; but, if so, they were soonto learn that Brad Buckhart was one of those rare bluffers whoinvariably “made good.”

A silent chap with fighting blood in his veins is generally regarded asformidable and dangerous when aroused, but once in a while it happensthat a talkative chap is just as dangerous.

Those who saw and heard Brad for the first time were almost certain tofancy he would show the white feather at the last moment. Those who hadseen him often and knew him well never doubted that he wouldunflinchingly enter a den of roaring lions if he felt it his duty to doso.

The natural chivalry of Buckhart’s nature had been stirred by theappearance of the girl and by her appeal for protection, and thereforehe was ready to lay down his life in defense of her right there on theplateau of the Acropolis.

It was but natural that Professor Gunn should be much alarmed over thesituation, for he felt that, to a large extent, the safety of the boyswas in his hands and he was responsible for them.

Therefore the old man now proposed that they should all go to amagistrate or some official who had proper authority and that the caseshould be submitted to him.

To his astonishment this seemed to infuriate both the Greeks. Theycursed him and the boys for interfering and sneered at the proposal ofsubmitting the matter to any official. One more demand they made forpossession of the girl, and it was plain they meant to take her by forceif refused.

They were promptly refused by both boys, who placed themselves shoulderto shoulder in front of the shrinking maiden.

With a snarl of rage, the younger Greek drew a knife.

“Oh, heavens!” moaned Professor Gunn. “There will be bloodshed!”

Then, to his greater horror, he saw Dick and Brad attack the men,declining to wait to be attacked themselves.

CHAPTER XXIII.—FIGHTING BLOOD OF AMERICA.

It was Dick Merriwell’s theory that in an encounter that promised to beunequal a sudden and surprising assault might more than outbalance theodds.

In this case he determined to put the theory to the test.

Brad understood Dick so thoroughly that it was not necessary for thelatter to utter a word of command. He simply made a slight signal thatwas unobserved by the Greeks, and when he leaped forward the Texan wasat his shoulder.

It was a daring thing to do, considering the fact that Maro, the youngerman, had drawn a knife. Still Dick knew they would be compelled to fightor surrender the girl, and he had no thought of following the lattercourse. As it was necessary to fight, it was better to attack than towait for the attack.

Merriwell singled out the man with the knife. Before the fellow realizedwhat was happening, the boy was on him. Then Maro tried to lift theknife for the purpose of using it, at the same time uttering a snarl ofastonished rage.

That snarl was broken midway, for Dick seized the fellow’s right wristwith his left hand, preventing him from making a stroke with thegleaming blade. At the same time the daring American lad gave Maro anawful jolt with his right.

Dick knew how to put force into a blow, and he knew how to land a blowthat would put the other fellow “all to the bad.” That punch, backedwith the boy’s weight, simply knocked the wind out of his antagonist.

Then Dick gave the man’s wrist a wrench that seemed to snap the bones.The knife flew from Maro’s fingers and struck with a clang against aprone and headless marble statue.

Having succeeded thus swiftly in disarming the rascal and knocking thewind out of him, Dick felt confident that he had accomplished the mostdifficult part of the task.

In the meantime Buckhart, roaring like an angry bull, went at TyrusHelorus. The older Greek was no mean antagonist. He side-stepped in amanner that enabled him to avoid the full fury of the Texan’s rush, atthe same time seeking to get hold of the boy with his powerful hands.

“Fool American!” he grated.

“Whoop!” shouted Brad, wheeling and coming at the man again. “Shades ofCrockett and Bowie! you’re some spry on your feet!”

The Greek clutched Brad’s collar.

“Ha!” he cried in satisfaction.

“Ha! yourself, and see how you like it!” said Brad, as he delivered abody blow in the ribs.

But that blow, although struck with just as much force, perhaps, was notas effective as the one struck by Dick, for the reason that it did notland on the spot to count as heavily.

The Greek jerked Brad nearer and fastened both hands on him.

“Fool!” he said again.

Then he gathered the lad in his arms.

“I’ve been hugged by grizzly bears,” said Buckhart, in relating theadventure afterward, “but I certain allow that that old Greek gent surecould out-hug them all. When he closed in on me I heard a generalcracking sound all round my anatomy, and I allowed at least nine of myribs was bu’sted then and there. I sure did.”

In fact, Brad was robbed of his strength by that squeeze, and, for thetime being, was helpless in the power of Tyrus Helorus.

Professor Gunn had been hopping round, first on one foot and then on theother. He was terribly excited, but suddenly, in a most astonishingmanner, he flew at the fellow who seemed to be crushing Brad.

“Let that boy go, you wretch!” he cried, in a high-pitched voice. “Don’tyou dare hurt one of my boys!”

Then he proceeded to claw at Tyrus in a manner that bewildered andconfused the man for the time being.

The Greek relaxed his hold on Buckhart, enabling Brad to get a breath.With a wrench and a squirm the Texan twisted clear. He half dropped, andthen his arms closed about the knees of the man. A moment later theGreek was lifted clear of his feet and pitched headlong against a marbleslab.

The shock seemed to stun him.

“Much obliged, professor,” panted Buckhart. “You certain chipped intothe game at just the right juncture.”

“Hum! ha!” burst from Zenas, who suddenly realized that he had donesomething. “They want to look out for me when I get started. I’mdangerous—exceedingly dangerous.”

By this time Dick had punished the younger Greek in a manner that ledhim to take to his heels in the effort to escape.

“Stop him!” shrilled Zenas.

“Let him go!” exclaimed the boy promptly. “If he’ll keep on running I’llbe pleased.”

Maro dashed in amid the ruins of the Parthenon and disappeared.

Tyrus lay where he had fallen.

“My goodness!” exclaimed Zenas, gazing in apprehension at the prostrateman. “I hope I didn’t kill him—I really hope I didn’t. Of course, itwas in self-defense—or, rather, in defense of one of my boys; but stillI hope I didn’t finish him when I struck him that last terrible blow.”

The old man seemed to really believe he had knocked the Greek down.

Dick turned to look for the girl. Pale and trembling, she stood withclasped hands, seemingly quite overcome by what had happened.

“Don’t be afraid, miss,” said Merriwell. “You are safe for the present.”

She gave him a flashing look of admiration from her splendid blue eyes.Then suddenly she seemed to think of the fallen man, and a moment latershe was kneeling by his side, calling him by name and crying that he wasdead.

“I do not think he is dead,” said Dick, attempting to reassure her. “Letme see.”

Even as the boy placed an inspecting hand on the breast of Tyrus theeyes of the man opened and he heaved a sigh. The girl gave a cry ofgratitude and relief. He turned on her a glance that made her tremble,and in his native tongue he began to mutter threats which sent her toher feet like a startled fawn.

“Don’t waste your sympathy on him,” advised Merriwell. “A man who cangrowl like that isn’t badly hurt. He’ll be all right in a short time.”

“Then—then he make me marree Maro!” she gasped. “I better die!”

“What are we going to do about it, pard?” asked Brad. “Whatever can wedo to help her?”

“That’s a puzzling question,” admitted Dick. “Evidently this man is herguardian, and we’ll get into no end of trouble if we try to take herfrom him. She ought to be able to appeal to the proper authorities forprotection.”

“Tak’ me to Charlee,” entreated the girl.

“Charlie?” exclaimed Dick. “Who in the world is Charlie?”

“I love heem!” she declared. “He grandes’ man in the world! He grandes’man ever live! I marree Charlee!”

“Ah, ha! So that’s the way the wind blows?” cried Dick. “There isanother man in the case, and that’s why old Tyrus is trying to force youto marry Maro?”

She nodded violently.

“Charlee come to tak’ me to my father, in India,” she said. “When Marofind that so he come to Tyrus, say I never go, say I marree heem. Tyrussay I must marree Maro. Say I never meet Charlee no more. That brek myheart. I cry no, no, no! They tak’ me from home, so Charlee never findme when he come. They tak’ me where I have to stay in small room alltime till Maro marree me. I geet out. I run. I come here. Charlee say hecome here often look at ruins. I think he may come now. I wait. Tyrusand Maro come find me. I try to run. I see you. I call for help. Thatall.”

“It’s enough!” cried Dick. “Where is this Charlie? We will take you tohim.”

She shook her head in distress.

“He somewhere in citee,” she said, with a sweep of her hand.

“A whole lot indefinite,” observed Buckhart.

Dick asked the girl if she did not know in what hotel Charlie was to befound.

She did not.

“What is the rest of his name?” questioned Dick. “Do you know it?”

“Whole name Charlee Cav’deesh,” she declared.

“Cavendish?”

“That right.”

“It’s up to us, Brad,” said Merriwell, “to find Charlie Cavendish assoon as possible.”

“I opine it is,” nodded the Texan.

“In the meantime,” said the professor, “we’ll all be arrested forkidnapping the girl. Boys, boys, is it impossible for you to keep out ofscrapes?”

“I’m afraid it is,” confessed Dick.

CHAPTER XXIV.—MARO AND TYRUS.

Having beaten off the two Greeks, neither of the boys had a thought ofsurrendering the girl. They were determined to protect her, no matterwhat happened, until they could get word to Cavendish, who, sheasserted, was somewhere in Athens.

Tyrus made no objection when he saw the lads and the old professordeparting with the girl in their midst. He sat up, staring after them, awicked look on his face.

Barely had Zenas, the boys, and the girl disappeared from view when Maroreappeared amid the ruins of the Parthenon and ran swiftly to the spotwhere Tyrus sat.

“Why do you sit thus?” he demanded. “Did you not see them taking Flaviaaway?”

“I saw them,” was the gruff answer.

“Then why did you permit it?”

“Why did you permit it?”

“You are her uncle.”

“You are her lover.”

“But you have the power.”

“It is, indeed, little power I had after being dashed against this slabof marble.”

“But yours is the authority.”

“They are Americans.”

“What of that?”

“Americans recognize no authority but that of might. They are wonderfulfighters.”

“They fight like fiends!” exclaimed Maro. “Who could think that thoseboys would dare attack us! And I was armed with a knife.”

“Little good it did you,” returned Tyrus, with a touch of scorn. “I hadno weapon, and I would have mastered one of them had not the old manattacked me, scratching and clawing like a cat.”

“But you are going to let them carry Flavia away?”

“You have as much right to stop them as I have.”

“No, no!” almost shouted Maro, in great exasperation. “You have theright, for you are her uncle. You must do it!”

“I like not your language, Maro. No man has ever told me I must do athing.”

“But you let them walk away with her?”

“Because the young man, strong and able to battle for his rights, fledand sought shelter in hiding. Maro, I sadly fear I have been muchmistaken in you. I fear you are a coward.”

The younger man flushed with mingled anger and shame.

“What was I to do?” he demanded, seeking to justify himself in the eyesof Tyrus. “I saw that you were stretched prone upon the ground, and Ifeared you had been slain. I was disarmed, and that terrible Americanboy was hitting me so fast that the blows could not be counted. I knewthat, in another moment, I would have all three of them upon me. I fledto save my life.”

“You saved it,” said Tyrus, still with that biting touch of scorn. “Yousaved your life, but it may be that you have lost Flavia.”

“Never!” grated Maro. “I will follow and take her from them!”

“Alone?” asked Tyrus, with that same manner. “You ran from one of them,but now you propose to follow and conquer all three of them. Indeed,Maro, your words and your behavior are inconsistent.”

“We are losing time!” exclaimed Maro.

“We? Why, I thought you were going to do it quite alone.”

“It is you who must lodge the complaint against them, as you did againstthe Englishman, for you are the uncle and guardian of Flavia.”

“Oh, so you advise that we seek the assistance of the law?”

“It is the better way.”

“In truth I doubted if you actually intended to attack those Americanfighters, even though you spoke so boldly. You have had quite enough ofthat, Maro. You still insist that Flavia must be your bride, even thoughyou know now that she scorns you and would prefer death?”

“She is my light, my life! I must have her! You have given me your wordthat she shall be mine.”

“But I had no thought that she would make such a terrible resistance.She has ever been a good and dutiful girl since her father left her inmy hands. I knew she was averse to you, Maro, but I fancied you couldovercome her aversion, or that she would dutifully submit at my command.She has in her the spirit of her father’s family. He married my sistereven though I hated him and sought to prevent the union. Maro, he lovedher, which I hold to his credit. He was a good husband to her, and henearly died of grief when she passed from earth and left little Flavia.It was for Flavia that he lived. Otherwise I believe he would have takenhis life that he might join her. But when he met reverses and lost mostof his little fortune, he felt that bad fortune had placed a blight onhim while he remained in his native land. He found an opportunity to goto India, and he left Flavia with me, charging me to be like a father toher. It is now said by this Englishman that he has prospered in life,and by this Englishman he sends a message which tells me to let Flaviareturn to him in care of the Englishman.”

“A trick! a trick!” cried Maro fiercely. “The letter was a forgery!”

“How do you know?”

“The Englishman and Flavia met before he presented that letter.”

“Which is true.”

“She fell in love with him.”

“Her behavior seems to denote it,” confessed Tyrus.

“She knew I wished to marry her and that you favored me.”

“Go on.”

“The Englishman smiled on her. She was deceived. She told him of herfather. Perhaps she gave him some letters from her father. Either theEnglishman forged the letter, or he employed an expert to accomplish it.In this manner he means to steal her from you and from me.”

“It is possible you speak the truth.”

“I know I speak the truth! I feel it here in my heart! He is deceivingher. He would take her away, pretending that it is his intention toconduct her to her father; but in truth he has no such intention, andwhen he becomes tired of her he will desert her. I am right, Tyrus. Shewill be left to die in some foreign land by this young dog of anEnglishman, whose father is rich and who has money to fling about with alavish hand. It is your duty—and mine—to save her from such a fate!Arouse yourself, Tyrus! Bestir yourself, and let’s do something withoutdelay. The Englishman has been placed beneath arrest. It is our nextmove to enter complaint against the Americans and have them arrestedalso. It can be done.”

Tyrus bowed gravely.

“It can be done,” he agreed; “and, as you say, it may be our duty to seethat it is done.”

“Then delay not. Every moment is precious.”

“Give me your hand,” said the elder man.

Maro assisted him to rise.

“It was a terrible shock I received,” muttered Tyrus, moving hisshoulders and making a wry face. “It is most remarkable that my neck wasnot broken. Even now to move at all causes me discomfort, and to-morrowI fancy I will be exceedingly lame.”

“Think not of yourself,” urged Maro, burning with impatience and seekingto pull Tyrus onward. “Think of Flavia and your duty to her. Hasten!”

“Wait a little,” said the elder man. “I am dizzy. My head reels. It is asingular sensation, for all my life I have been strong as the horse.”

Indeed, he swayed and might have fallen but for the supporting arm ofthe young man.

“Oh, these Americans!” he muttered. “Even mere boys, scarce escaped fromthe nursery, seem to have the courage, skill and strength of men. What awonderful people they must be!”

“Bah! I admire them not, for ever it is that an American and anEnglishman will unite against one of any other nation. They speak onelanguage, and there is between them a bond of sympathy stronger thanthey themselves dream. Has the Astrologer of Minerva not said that someday they will unite and rule the world. I admire them not, I tell you!Come, Tyrus, they will escape with Flavia, and we——”

“We will find them, never fear. They shall soon be placed in confinementand kept there until Flavia is yours. I think I can walk now.”

“Then hasten, hasten!” urged the impatient and baffled lover.

CHAPTER XXV.—TWO ENGLISHMEN.

Zenas Gunn strutted like a peacock. He seemed to feel that he it was whohad accomplished the feat of baffling the girl’s pursuers. For a time heput aside his fear of further trouble over the affair, jogged along ather side and talked fluently with her in the language she could bestunderstand.

They left the plateau by way of the marble gate and hastened to descend.

“Trust us, my dear child,” said the professor.

“I do,” she declared, smiling on him in a manner that made him throw outhis chest still further. “But, oh, I fear Tyrus and Maro! They aredetermined that I shall never see Charlee again.”

“Hum! hem! How long have you known this Charlie?”

“It is not long. He is the most beautiful man in all the world!”

“You should have seen me when I was younger,” said Zenas. “I beg yourpardon, but I do not think we have learned your name?”

“It is Flavia.”

“Beautiful name,” declared the professor. “Look out, my child, do notstumble there.”

“There is no danger that I will stumble, but you——”

“Oh, I’m as frisky as a young colt! Didn’t you see me put Tyrus to thebad a while ago? Don’t worry about me.”

“The old boy is getting along some!” observed Brad, speaking to Dick, asthey followed Zenas and the girl. “It takes a young girl to wake him upand make him lively.”

There was a shadow on Merriwell’s face.

“It was our duty to protect the girl,” he said; “but now it would be anabsolute relief if we knew where to find this Englishman, Cavendish.There is going to be a great rumpus over this, and we may find ourselvesin a pickle because we took the part of this maid of Athens.”

“The Maid of Athens!” exclaimed Brad. “That’s the title for her! It fitsher. By the great Panhandle! if it wasn’t for Nadia Budthorne——”

Dick laughed.

“Brad, you’re smashed! She has a fellow—Cavendish. And that is notmentioning Maro.”

“Hang Maro! He doesn’t count any whatever.”

“But Cavendish does.”

“He’s lost in the shuffle.”

“Well, there is Nadia, and you——”

“She’s all right!” exclaimed Brad sincerely; “but she isn’t here, and Iopine I’ve got a right to admire the Maid of Athens some.”

“But no right to make love to her.”

“No danger of that, pard,” grinned the Texan. “I never did cut much icewith the girls. You always were the one, and it’s a wonder to me thatthis girl didn’t forget Charlee the moment she placed her sky-blue eyeson you.”

“Oh, that will about do!” laughed Dick. “You’re forever imagining thatgirls are struck on me, when the fact is that they are not, and——”

“How about Doris Templeton?”

“Mere friendship.”

“Is that so? How about June Arlington?”

“Friendship just the same.”

“Well, then, how about——”

“That will do! Don’t try to make me out a chap with a dozen girls!”

The Texan chuckled.

“Don’t you get gay with me,” he advised. “I can come back at you goodand plenty.”

By this time they were well down toward the base of the Acropolis.Suddenly Flavia uttered a wild cry of joy, broke from Professor Gunn andran toward two men who were approaching.

One of the two was a very young man, with a delicate mustache on hislip, while the other was middle-aged, florid and puffy, carrying a heavycane. The younger man had seen Flavia the moment she discovered him, andhe sprang toward her, his hands outstretched.

“Galloping jack rabbits!” exclaimed Buckhart. “Whatever does this yeremean?”

“It means,” said Dick, with satisfaction, “that we’ll not have to searchall over Athens for Charlee.”

“I’m almost sorry,” declared Brad, with a comical twist of his face.“She didn’t have time to discover how much superior I am to Charlee.”

Professor Gunn looked both relieved and disappointed. He had feared theywould get into serious trouble, yet now he was disappointed by theappearance of the Englishmen.

For Englishmen they were, beyond question. The elder man had theappearance of a man of the world, given to special delight in the goodthings of life. He surveyed the boys and the professor with mildcuriosity. His eyes were rather bleary and blood-shotten.

At first Flavia was too overjoyed to make an explanation, but finally,in a confused torrent of words, she told what had taken place on theplateau of the Acropolis.

The face of the young Englishman brightened as he began to understandhow she happened to be escorted by Professor Gunn and the boys.

“So you went there thinking you might meet me, Flavia?” he said. “It wason my way to view those ruins that I first met you, and you remembered.I fancied you might, don’t you know, and that is why I am here now. Ifound you had been removed from your home, and I could not trace you. Itis pure chance, but, by Jove! luck is with us.”

Then he turned to the Americans.

“Gentlemen,” he said, “my name is Cavendish—Charles Cavendish, son ofSir Henry Giles Cavendish, of Grantham. This is a particular friend ofour family, Sir Augustus Camberwell. I wish to thank you most heartilyand sincerely for your brave defense of Flavia. Permit me to shake handswith you all.”

“Yes,” said Sir Augustus, “very gallant, really. Just like you queerAmericans. Never stop to inquire into an affair where a woman isconcerned. Always go in and stand by the woman. Splendid sentiment, butdangerous.”

Sir Augustus now turned his attention to Flavia, at whom he gazed in amanner that Dick did not fancy.

“Very charming, my dear Charlie,” he admitted. “I’m beginning tounderstand how it happened. Oh, you rascal! Where would you be now if Iwasn’t in Athens? Why, you would be in jail. It took my influence to getyou out.”

“For which I thank you most sincerely, Sir Augustus.”

“All right, my boy—all right. But you want to remember my advice. Youwant to remember what I told you about getting in too deep. Oh, yourascal! you’re going to be another case with the girls, just as yourfather was before you. Many’s the little toot we’ve been on together,and Henry always was getting entangled with a female.”

“Well, what do you think of that, pard?” whispered Buckhart, in Dick’sear.

“I think Sir Augustus is smelly,” was the answer.

Professor Gunn was likewise far from pleased. He regarded the olderEnglishman with an air of pronounced distrust and suspicion.

“Don’t worry about me, Sir Augustus,” advised Cavendish.

Just then, happening to glance up the path they had lately descended,Professor Gunn uttered an exclamation of alarm and warning.

“Look—look, boys!” he cried. “There come the Greeks!”

Maro and Tyrus were to be seen descending the path.

Flavia was greatly alarmed in a moment.

“Let them not touch me, Charlee!” she entreated, clinging to Cavendish.

“Never fear,” he said reassuringly. “They shall not.”

“But I opine we’d better be moseying along out of this,” said Buckhart.

To this the others agreed, and they lost no time in moving.

CHAPTER XXVI.—WAS IT A MISTAKE?

Although the Greeks pursued them into the city, they made no attempt torecover possession of Flavia.

What they did do, however, was something alarming.

At intervals they called to other men, friends or acquaintances, andmany of these joined them in following the girl and her escort. Thislittle band of dogged pursuers grew by ones and twos until there were inall at least ten of them.

Professor Gunn’s agitation grew as the number of pursuers increased.

“Boys,” he said, “I sadly fear we are going to have grave trouble. Itwould not surprise me if we were attacked and murdered right here in thecity of Athens. I am in favor of calling for protection by the ‘Agentsof Peace,’ as they call the police here.”

“Now, don’t you know, really I wouldn’t do that,” objected Sir AugustusCamberwell. “Really I wouldn’t.”

“Why not, sir?”

“On account of the girl, don’t you understand! The blooming Agents ofPeace might ask us to explain what we are doing with the girl and why wewithheld her from her uncle, don’t you see! Don’t have anything to dowith the Greek bobbies. We have but a short distance farther to go—avery short distance.”

So the Agents of Peace were not appealed to by them, and at last theyreached the hotel where Sir Augustus and Charles Cavendish werestopping.

“I have to thank you very much for your gallant protection of Flavia,”said Cavendish, again shaking hands with the boys and the old professor.“She has explained fully how you risked your lives for her, as thatcrazy fellow, her uncle wishes her to marry, drew a knife on you. It isreally wonderful that two boys and an old man should be able to standthose two ruffians off.”

“Old man!” exploded the professor indignantly. “Who are you calling anold man, sir? I would have you understand that I’m younger than lots ofmen half my age.”

“No offense, professor,” Cavendish hastened to say. “You are indeedremarkably young for your years.”

Zenas sniffed and hemmed in a manner that denoted he was not fullypacified.

Both Cavendish and Sir Augustus seemed anxious to get rid of theAmericans.

Maro, Tyrus, and the rest of the pursuers had now disappeared, and,therefore, Dick proposed that they should return to their hotel.

Not until they were far away and had failed to discover further signs oftheir pursuers did Professor Gunn throw off his nervousness.

“I tell you, boys,” he said, “this has been a very serious affair—very.Of course, we may yet have trouble over it. There is no telling. I can’tunderstand why we were not attacked by that band of men who gathered tofollow us. It is certain that the Greek of to-day is not much like theGreek of old. In ancient times we would have been overwhelmed andslaughtered like dogs.”

Dick was silent and moody. He seemed thinking of something that was farfrom pleasant. Even after they had reached their hotel and were in theirrooms he maintained an air of gloomy thought.

“Whatever is troubling you, pard?” questioned Brad, when the professorhad retired to his room.

“I am thinking of Flavia—poor Flavia,” answered Dick. “Her situationbothers me, Brad. I almost fear we made a mistake to-day.”

“I’ve been thinking some that same way,” declared the Texan, springingup and beginning to pace the floor with long strides. “I sure didn’tlike old Augustus any, and Cavendish didn’t hit me any too well. Youdon’t suppose that young snipe is fooling that girl, do you, Dick?”

“That is a hard question to answer. There is something queer about thisaffair. Flavia says Cavendish is going to take her to India, where herfather is; but still they met by accident on the Acropolis or near it.If Cavendish was sent here by the father of Flavia, why didn’t he comedirect to the girl?”

“You tell!”

“Sir Augustus is an old rascal, and from his manner I inferred that heheld the idea that Cavendish is crooked. Brad, if we have beeninstrumental in getting that beautiful girl into trouble, instead ofhelping her out of trouble, I’ll never forgive myself.”

“What are we going to do, Dick?” asked the Texan, gravely.

“Perhaps it is our duty to go to the headquarters of the Agents of Peaceand tell all about it.”

“And get up to our necks in trouble, sure as shooting.”

“I suppose so. Sir Augustus must have influence, for he got Cavendishout of the jug in a hurry.”

“Filthy lucre did it, partner. It will do almost anything in these days.Somehow I opine that old Tyrus doesn’t rate very high in the family linehere, and it’s likely good coin would cause the authorities to wink atan intrigue between a gay young Englishman and a girl of poor family.”

At this moment Professor Gunn came prancing back into the room, verymuch excited in manner.

“I was sure of it!” he squawked, shaking a quivering finger in the air.“I was sure I had heard of that old reprobate! I looked over my notes.Boys, he’s a miserable old rounder! He’s a man with a bad record! Heought to be in prison! He would be in prison if he had his just deserts!He disgraced himself and his family in England! He left his own countryon account of his reputation. That’s the kind of man he is.”

“Who are you talking about?” asked Dick.

“Sir Augustus Camberwell,” answered the professor. “And he’s the friendof Cavendish!”

“Now we know how the land lays, partner,” said Brad.

Dick rose to his feet, catching up his hat and light topcoat.

“Come, Buckhart,” he said grimly.

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going out to get some air. I’m afraid we have been chumps of thechumpiest variety.”

“I’m with you,” said the Texan.

“Boys, boys, boys!” spluttered the professor. “I hope you are not goingto do anything more that is rash. I can’t permit it. I must object. Imust put my foot down.”

“Don’t worry about us, professor,” said Dick. “I feel the need of abrisk walk to cool off. My indignation is getting the better of me.”

Zenas hurried to the door.

“You shall not go until you promise me you will do nothing rash,” hedeclared. “I shall not permit you to leave this room.”

Dick managed to appease and reassure him in a short time, and soon heleft the hotel, accompanied by his chum.

“What’s your plan, pard?” asked Brad, as soon as they were on thestreet.

“I’m going direct to Cavendish and Camberwell,” said Dick. “UnlessCavendish can satisfy me beyond the shadow of a doubt that hisintentions toward Flavia are perfectly honorable, I’ll denounce him tothe authorities, and push the matter against him, even if I go to jailmyself for it!”

“Whoop!” cried the Texan. “That’s the stuff! We’ll take to the warpath,Dick, and there will be things doing in Athens. You hear me shout!”

CHAPTER XXVII.—THE PURSUIT.

Although it did not take them long to retrace their steps to the hotelwhere they had left the Englishmen and the Greek girl, they met with amost surprising disappointment when they arrived there. They wereinformed that Cavendish, Camberwell, and Flavia had just left in aclosed carriage. The carriage was pointed out to them, just disappearingdown a street that seemed to lead toward the outskirts of the city.

Only a moment was Dick Merriwell nonplused. Then he called for saddledhorses, and the money he displayed brought him the assurance that hiswants should be supplied.

“Lose not a second,” he ordered. “We must overtake that carriage.”

Buckhart was burning with impatience, but he bemoaned the fact that theywere not armed.

“Oh, for a brace of revolvers now!” he cried. “If we had the guns wecertain would take that girl away from them.”

“We’ll take her anyhow,” declared Dick grimly.

Brad did not ask how they were going to do it, for he had perfectconfidence in his bosom friend. If Dick said they would do a thing, thatsettled it—it was as good as done.

So it happened that in a very few moments the two daring American boyswere mounted and riding at a breathless gallop along the street of thatGreek city.

The carriage had disappeared from view some time before, but the boyskept on, hoping fortune might be with them.

Not far from the outskirts of the city Dick paused to question somelaborers. One of the men could speak good English, and he immediatelydeclared that he remembered the carriage. He directed them, and theywere soon galloping onward once more.

The street they now followed quickly brought them to the open countryoutside the city. In the distance lay some low, rugged hills, which fromthat point seemed rather barren and forbidding. The road led up a steepincline.

“Pard,” said Brad, “I’m sure afraid we’ve missed them. We can’t seeanything of them anywhere.”

“Perhaps we have,” admitted Dick; “but let’s get to the top of this hilland take a survey.”

They clattered up the hill. Near the crest, the road wound round theshoulder of an immense bowlder, which was fully as large as a smallcottage.

Sitting on the ground with his back against the rock and his body in thesunshine, being fully protected from the rather chill wind that sweptthe top of the hill, was a ragged beggar. He held out his open palm tothem.

“Drachma,” he said. “Drachma.”

“Whatever does he mean by that?” asked Brad.

“Money,” said Dick. “Evidently he takes us for wealthy foreigners, elsehe would not ask for drachma, which has a value of something like twentycents in our money.”

Dick produced a coin and tossed it shimmering toward the beggar, whodeftly caught it.

Then the boy began to question him, using a little “modern Greek” andmany signs. The beggar was grateful and seemed anxious to understand andaid Dick. He even rose to his feet and drew nearer.

Dick sprang down from his horse, giving the bridle into the hand of hiscompanion. With his finger he swiftly drew a crude picture in a patch ofdust beside the road. It was the picture of a closed carriage.

The beggar understood in a twinkling. He nodded excitedly, jabbering inhis own language and motioning for the boys to follow him. Turning, heran to the point where the road disappeared round the shoulder of thebowlder, pausing again to beckon them on.

Merriwell leaped into the saddle and the two lads rounded the rock atthe heels of the beggar. The man pointed along the road, and amid somebare trees on a slope half a mile away the carriage was plainly seen, atiny cloud of dust rolling up behind it.

“Whoop!” shouted Buckhart. “There she is, pard! We’re still on thetrail!”

They did not pause to thank the beggar, but were off down the hill, thehoofs of their horses ringing clear on the hard and stony road.

It was dangerous to ride as they rode, for that strip of road wasanything but good. Still they took chances and dashed onward.

It seemed that some one in the carriage observed them, for they soondecided that the horses attached to the vehicle had been forced togreater speed.

“But they can’t get away from us now!” declared Dick grimly.

“What will we do when we overtake them?” questioned Brad.

“We’ll hold them up and find out what they are trying to do withFlavia.”

“It’s a whole lot queer they were able to get away from that hotel andout of the city without any of that bunch of Greeks interfering.”

“I’ve been thinking of that. After following them to the hotel, it seemsthat Maro, Tyrus, and their friends quit.”

“I certain am afraid the Greek of to-day is a sure enough quitter.”

“Look, Brad—look at the road yonder!”

“Horsemen, partner, and they’re riding good and hard.”

For a few moments a number of horsemen were in plain sight on anotherroad, and it was plain that they were pushing their mounts. They soondisappeared from view behind an intervening ridge.

“They were Greeks,” said Dick.

“Sure thing.”

“The carriage has disappeared.”

“That’s right.”

“Brad, I think the road those horsemen were following intersects thisroad somewhere beyond that ridge.”

“I judge she does.”

“The occupants of that carriage could not see those horsemen.”

“Because the ridge shut out the view of the other road.”

“Exactly. But I think the horsemen knew the carriage must come roundthat ridge at the western end, and I believe they mean to intercept itwhere the roads cross.”

“Partner, I allow you have figured it out proper. That being thecase——”

“Tyrus and Maro are leading the horsemen.”

“I’ll bet on it.”

“In which case there is liable to be bloodshed. Camberwell and Cavendishmay be butchered by the engaged uncle and lover.”

“That’s whatever.”

“They may deserve it, but still it’s our duty to prevent it, ifpossible.”

Even while riding at full gallop the boys had managed to carry on thisconversation. But now, as they reached the last declivity of the road,and were descending into the valley between the two ridges, Dick’s horsestepped on a loose stone and fell as if shot.

Had not Merriwell been an expert horseman that accident might have beenfatal. He shot over the head of the horse, having managed to free hisfeet from the stirrups with the quickness of thought itself. Striking onhis feet, he managed to keep up for two springs, and, when he did fall,he regained an upright position and wheeled so swiftly that it wasalmost impossible to say that he had been down at all.

As the horse rose Dick had the creature by the bit and was talkingsoothingly to it.

Having uttered an exclamation of dismay, Buckhart reined in as soon aspossible and turned about. An expression of relief shot over his ruggedface as he saw his friend on his feet, holding the frightened horse bythe bit.

“Good work!” shouted the delighted Texan. “It certain takes more than alittle thing like that to put you down and out, partner.”

Dick managed to fling himself into the saddle. As his feet found thestirrups once more, he waved his hand to Buckhart.

Brad wheeled his own horse as Merriwell came alongside, and they wereoff again, making for the rise beyond the hollow.

Dick, however, quickly made an unpleasant discovery. His horse had beeninjured, and quickly showed signs of lameness as they struck the rise.In fact, the creature limped and betrayed signs of distress, beginningto fall back.

“Hard luck, Brad!” said Dick. “The beast is hurt, and will be scarcelyable to hobble in a few moments.”

The other boy drew up somewhat, turning his head to anxiously regard hisfriend’s faltering mount.

“That’s right,” he said. “At first I reckoned you both had come throughall right. If the horse is that lame as quick as this, it will be plumbdone up in ten minutes’ time.”

“I’m afraid we won’t be on hand when the pursuers stop that carriage.Ten to one I’ll ruin this horse if I try to push him.”

Always sympathetic for dumb beasts, Dick was hurt by every hobblingstride of the animal he bestrode.

“Keep him going, pard,” urged the Texan. “This is a right desperatecase, and you’ll not be to blame for the horse if he is ruined. I’m someanxious to see that the Maid of Athens gets a fair deal in the game, andI’m afraid the cards are stacked against her.”

So Dick urged the faltering horse onward, and they toiled up the road onwhich they had last seen the closed carriage.

Suddenly from beyond the ridge came electrifying sounds. The air bore totheir ears the distant barking of firearms.

“I judge the scrimmage is on, Dick!” palpitated Buckhart. “The battle istaking place and we’re not in it. What a howling shame!”

“Wait, Brad!” cried Dick. “I’ve got to quit this horse. Your animal mustcarry us both.”

He leaped to the ground as the Texan pulled up. With another bound hewas up behind the Texan. The lame horse was abandoned.

“Git!” cried Buckhart.

The animal bearing the double burden responded nobly. Up the road andround the shoulder of the ridge they went.

The shooting had ceased as suddenly as it began. All was silent beforethem. That silence was ominous.

“I’m afraid we’ll arrive too late,” said Dick regretfully.

Soon they were dashing down the road. To the left they caught a glimpseof another brown highway, the one on which they had seen the gallopinghorsemen. It was plain that the two roads met not far beyond.

They had made no mistake in thinking it the purpose of those horsemen tointercept the carriage. The sound of firearms had told them that themeeting was not of a peaceful nature. Dick dreaded yet was anxious toknow the result.

Beyond and beneath them was a gloomy hollow. But for the clatterproduced by their own horse, they might have heard the echo of hoofbeatsreceding and dying out in the distance of that hollow. The nature of thelandscape concealed from their eyes the road that led through it andinto the rugged hills beyond.

Soon they came dashing into view of the carriage they had pursued. Itwas overthrown on its side. One of the two horses that had drawn it wasdown. The driver had managed to clear the other animal, which was takingall of his attention. He was the only human being in sight. As they cameon, he gave them an apprehensive look, seeming on the point ofabandoning the horse and taking to his heels.

“There sure has been the old blazes to pay there, Dick!” cried Brad.

All at once, as they drew near, out from the wreck of the carriageleaped a puff of smoke. A pistol spoke and a bullet sung unpleasantlynear the boys.

“Mighty bad shooting,” observed the Texan.

He flung the horse to a stand. Dick was the first to leap to the ground.Advancing toward the carriage, peering forth from which he caught aglimpse of an ashen face, he cried:

“Let up on that carelessness! Are you trying to shoot up friends?”

Immediately the head and shoulders of a man rose through a shattereddoor of the carriage.

It was Sir Augustus Camberwell, and his whole appearance was that of aman so badly frightened that he was liable to do almost any freakishthing. He held in his hand the pistol with which he had fired at theapproaching lads. A bit of smoke still curled from the muzzle of theweapon.

“Really is—is it you—my—my dear boys?” he chattered, seeming to shakeall over like a man with the palsy. “I—I thought it was—those ruffiansreturned to—to finish me up, don’t you understand.”

“Yes, we understand,” said Dick. “You lost your wits completely. Luckyfor us that your hand shook so you couldn’t hit a house when you fired.”

“I—I hope you will pardon me.”

“We’ll have to. What’s happened here?”

“Ruffians, highwaymen, cutthroats dashed upon us! Shot down one of ourhorses! Tried to murder me! Fell on Cavendish and dragged him forth!Seized the girl! Upset the carriage! That’s about all I know, don’t youknow. I’m hurt. I fancy they thought me killed. I kept still. They left.Cavendish is gone. Girl is gone. Confound the girl! She made all thetrouble. Cavendish was a fool! I told him so.”

“Why did you leave Athens?”

“Dangerous there. Greeks followed us to hotel. Knew a quiet place in alittle village where Charlie and the girl could stay till he got readyto quit his foolishness. Thought the Greeks had gone to notify theauthorities, and raise a row. Thought they were satisfied after theyfound where we were stopping. Saw nothing of them. Improved theopportunity to get away.”

It was not the habit of Sir Augustus to express himself clearly andconcisely, but his condition of nervousness seemed to jerk the words outof him in an astonishingly crisp manner.

“What do you mean by saying that Cavendish and the girl could stay inyour quiet little village until he quit his foolishness?” demanded Dick.“Do you intend to convey the idea that he was not going to marryFlavia?”

“Marry her?” cried Camberwell. “How ridiculous! Why, he would disgracehis family, don’t you know!”

Dick Merriwell’s eyes blazed with anger.

“Then it is evident at last that Charles Cavendish is as great ascoundrel as Sir Augustus Camberwell!” he said, in deep disgust.

“What, sir—what?” gasped the Englishman, in astonishment. “How dare youuse such language to me!”

“Give it to him, pard!” advised Brad, who was standing near, holding thehorse. “Tell him a few things good and plain.”

“You got off too easily,” said Dick. “They should have hanged you to thelimb of a tree—and Cavendish with you!”

Sir Augustus choked and spluttered.

“Do you know whom you’re addressing?” he fumed.

“Yes; I’m addressing an old reprobate—a miserable old toad! I know yourrecord, Camberwell. I know that you disgraced your family in England. Iknow you have left a track of wretchedness and ruin behind you allthrough life. And now you connive with a young reprobate to deceive aninnocent and trusting girl! You plot to break her heart and destroy her!I cannot find words to tell you exactly what I do think of you. Youought to get twenty years in a Greek prison—you and Cavendish.”

“Be careful!” snorted Sir Augustus, rising to his full height andclambering forth from the smashed carriage, while he shook his pistol atthe daring American lad. “I have money and influence—and friends inGreece.”

“I don’t care what you have; you have entered into a dastardly plot, andI hope to see you properly punished.”

“I knew nothing of it to begin with,” averred the Englishman. “Charliesent for me. I was his father’s friend. Of course, I brought myinfluence to bear to have him released. I had no part in forging theletter. That was done before I knew Cavendish was in Athens. The girlknew the letter was forged. Don’t think she is such an innocentlittle——”

“That’s enough!” blazed Dick, taking a step toward the man.

Involuntarily Sir Augustus lifted the hand that contained the pistol.Like a flash the boy grasped the weapon, turned its muzzle aside andwrenched it from the grasp of the Englishman.

“You’re not fit to handle such dangerous playthings,” he said.

Brad had made a move to assist Dick, but he stopped, a grim smile on hisface, for he saw his friend needed no aid.

“Why—why, you’re worse than the ruffians!” gasped Sir Augustus.

“Look here,” said the fearless American boy, “you had better keep adecent tongue in your vile mouth! Don’t say a nasty word about Flavia,unless you’re anxious to get hurt. Cavendish is a rascal, like yourself.He has led her to believe it is his intention to marry her. There is noquestion about that, for she told us so. She has fled from Maro, whowould have married her any day, to this English reprobate, who onlymeans to deceive her. But I fancy that Cavendish will get all that’scoming to him, for doubtless both Maro and Tyrus, the uncle of the girl,are with the band that dropped on you here. It is mighty doubtful if youever set eyes on Charles Cavendish again.”

“If they dare injure him they’ll suffer for it!” cried the Englishman.“If they are wise, they’ll set him free without delay. I hope they dokeep the girl, for he’s crazy over her, and I can’t swear he wouldn’t befoolish enough to marry her.”

Dick turned in disgust from Camberwell to the driver, who stood lookingdown mournfully at the dead horse.

“Can you speak English?” asked Merriwell.

“I spik it well,” was the answer.

“Who attacked you here?”

“It was Donatus.”

“Who is Donatus?”

“You never hear of him?”

“No.”

“He outlaw. One time Suliote chief. Price on his head.”

“And this outlaw, Donatus, led the men who attacked you here?”

“I have said it.”

“How did he happen to be so near the city?”

The driver shook his head.

“Some time he come into city. See hills yonder. He stay there much.Think he go there now. Take Englishman. Englishman have friends perhaps.They pay Donatus well if ever see him ’live again.”

“It’s right evident,” said Buckhart, “that Mr. Cavendish is in a verybad scrape.”

“As he richly deserves to be,” declared Dick.

CHAPTER XXVIII.—DONATUS, THE SULIOTE.

Amid the wild and rugged Grecian hills lay a sheltered and secludedvalley. Indeed, this valley was so secluded that a wandering travelermight chance upon it only by the rarest accident. All things favored theprobability that he would pass near without ever dreaming of itsexistence.

It was night, and in this valley a fire burned, casting its shiftinglights on the faces of a small band of men. In all there were eight.Kirtled, bearded, unkempt, picturesque ruffians they were, every man ofthem fully armed and looking the thorough desperado and cutthroat.

They lounged about the fire in various attitudes, with the exception ofone who, at a little distance, walked back and forth in front of theblack mouth of a cave. The latter was a guard.

The night wind had a chill in it, and they drew their robes about them,moving yet a little nearer the fire.

Two of them seemed unprepared to spend any time at night in lying beforea fire in the open air, for they were unprotected save by their ordinaryclothes. One was a man of forty-five, the other a youth of twenty-one.

The first was Tyrus Helorus; the second Maro Veturia. Finally the youngman spoke to the other in a low tone.

“It is now nightfall, and there can be no further danger that possiblepursuers might see us leaving this place. Let us be going.”

“Be patient,” answered Tyrus, in the same guarded tone. “When he iswilling that we should depart, my friend, Donatus, will speak. He isburied in thought now.”

As he said this, he shifted his position slightly in order to observethe figure of a bearded man that reclined on his elbow almost oppositethem, gazing straight into the changing flames. The figure was massive,yet graceful. The curling beard was dark, as were the eyes. His face wasthat of one used to command. It was cruel, yet in a way strikinglyhandsome.

This was the man who called himself Donatus and who dared lead hislawless band to the very gates of Athens. Indeed, for all of the priceon his head, it was said he often entered the city unaccompanied.

Donatus was a Suliote, at one time a chief, but robbed of his power bythe government which refused to recognize his authority and whichdispersed and intimidated his followers. In vain he had sought to returnto the old ways of living. Being baffled, he became an outlaw indeed,preying on his fellow men. With the exception of Tyrus and Maro, thesewere his followers.

“I like not that look on his face,” muttered Maro. “I don’t know why Ifancy it, but I’ll swear he is thinking of my Flavia this minute.”

“Hush!” cautioned Tyrus, in alarm. “Be careful what you say, if youvalue your life!”

Suddenly, like a flash of lightning, the dark eyes of Donatus werelifted and fastened inquiringly upon them.

“Why speak in whispers, Tyrus, my friend?” he demanded, using the Romaicspeech, with which he did not seem wholly familiar. “If you haveanything to utter, you need not fear to speak out.”

Instantly Tyrus would have risen, but the chief made a gesture that badehim remain as he was.

“We did not wish to disturb you, chief,” asserted the elder Greek: “Itwas plain you were buried in thought.”

“I was. I was thinking of my youth and of my home far from this spot.For some time I have longed to return there, Tyrus; but I have notwished to go empty-handed.”

“By the stories they tell of you, you should have riches to-day.”

Donatus made a slight, careless gesture with his hand.

“Who gets money as I have and keeps it?” he said. “It is a desperate andprecarious life, Tyrus, and the rewards do not compensate for thedangers. I came to Athens to seek certain men of influence to interposein my behalf and seek for me a pardon, with the understanding that Ishould forever abandon the life I have led in recent years. Chance threwme in with you, a friend who once concealed me when armed enemies wereclose on my track. I promised you then that if the opportunity ever cameDonatus would repay the debt. You appealed to me in your distress,saying the Englishmen had stolen your niece.

“I called some of my followers, who in disguise had entered the citywith me. If you had advised it, we would have attacked the Englishmenthen and taken the girl from them. But you were afraid, Tyrus, that itwould create an uproar, and as a result that it must become generallyknown that you had consorted with Donatus, the outlaw. You said wait,and we waited. Fortune came our way, for the Englishmen fancied they sawtheir opportunity to escape with the girl, and they lost no time intrying it. We were watching every move, and they played the game to suitus when they hastened with the girl from the city. In the open countrywe could work, and we did work. One poor fool of an Englishman we lefton the road, permitting him to think he had deceived us, while, at yoursuggestion, we took the other one. He is now a prisoner in the caveyonder, where also the girl is safely stored.

“I am sorry, Tyrus, that I could not please you and your young friend bycutting the young Englishman’s throat. Had I known that was why youwished me to carry him off, I might have left him behind with the oldfool who played that he had been killed, when we took good care to killnothing save a horse. But now I am glad that we took the trouble, forone of my men tells me he is the son of an aristocrat and that the manwe left behind is rich. It is well. A satisfactory ransom must be paidbefore the young Englishman is set at liberty. Thus through a friendlyact I shall be able to turn an honest coin. Already I have dispatched afaithful fellow who bears a message to the other Englishman, statingthat when I have received ten thousand drachmas I will set my captivefree.”

“If you get it, you will not return empty-handed to your home,” saidTyrus.

“It was not of money I was thinking when I spoke thus,” assertedDonatus. “I am getting on in years. Long have I dreamed of an ideal whoshould make my home complete by sharing it with me. This day I saw her.”

“A woman?”

“The flower of Greece! I was thinking of her as I gazed into the fire.”

The hands of Maro suddenly closed and a wild light came into his eyes.He rose to his feet.

“Chief,” he said, boldly addressing the Suliote, “if we do not return toAthens ere another dawn, suspicion will fall on us. We must be going.”

“Would you depart so soon? Shall I send one of my men to conduct you andshow you the way?”

“If you will.”

The brigand leader rose. There was a pantherish grace in every move, inspite of the fact that he was a large man. He spoke to one of the band,and the fellow sprang up.

“Bion, bring horses for my friends and conduct them on the way untilthey are safely on the road to the city.”

In a few minutes Bion returned from the darkness, leading two saddledhorses. The chief explained that the man would accompany them on foot,being a fleet runner.

Maro had become very nervous. Now he demanded:

“Where is the third horse?”

“The third?” questioned Donatus. “There are but two of you.”

“You have forgotten Flavia?”

“Indeed not. I have remembered her well.”

Maro was pale, holding his excitement in check with difficulty.

“Then I will walk and she shall ride,” he said. “Have her brought.”

Barely a moment did Donatus hesitate, and then he gave the order thatthe girl be brought.

Soon one of the men conducted her from the cave before the mouth ofwhich the guard paced. She was almost deathly white. Her eyes were widewith fear, but she pressed her lips together and tried to retain commandof herself.

Never in all her life had Flavia looked more beautiful than at thatmoment. Donatus folded his arms on his broad chest and gazed at her witha singular expression in his eyes.

“Maid,” he said, “your uncle and your lover are about to depart. Yourlover has demanded that you shall accompany him. Are you ready to go?”

“Come, Flavia!” cried Maro, holding out his hands to her.

She shrank from him.

“No!” she cried; “I do not wish to go with you! I will not go with you!”

With a single stride Donatus reached her and placed his left arm abouther with almost crushing fierceness. His other hand he flung out towardMaro.

“You have her answer!” he said. “She remains, and you go without her!”

With a cry of terror, Flavia tried to break from the powerful arm thatclasped her. This she could not have accomplished of her own strength,but Donatus released her, and she reeled away.

Maro sprang forward to support her, but she saw him and whirled in atwinkling, rushing back to the protection of the brigand chief, whosmiled as he again clasped her with his arm.

“She has made her choice,” he said. And then in a voice unintelligibleto them he added: “I shall not return empty-handed to my home!”

Maro was distracted. He clutched Tyrus by the arm, panting:

“Is this your friend? Is this the man whose life you saved? See how herepays you!”

Tyrus was greatly agitated.

“Donatus,” he said entreatingly, “have you forgotten? She is my niece.It is I who have the right to take her.”

“For years,” said the chief, “I have dreamed of her face. To-day I sawit for the first time.”

“But it is not because of you she chooses to stay. She does notunderstand. She does not know you mean to keep her for yourself. It isthe Englishman of whom she thinks.”

“She will forget him soon when he is gone. With the money I shall securethrough him I may buy my pardon. She shall be mine!”

Now Flavia did understand, and once more she struggled for her freedom,crying out in her horror of them all.

At this juncture, from some distant part of the valley, came startlingsounds. Several pistol shots were fired in rapid succession. In atwinkling every brigand was on his feet, their weapons ready.

Donatus had wheeled toward the sounds, which ceased as suddenly as theybegan.

Behind the chief’s back Maro seized the girl, hissing into her ear:

“Foolish Flavia! Will you give yourself up to this brigand? Do not thinkhe will let the Englishman have you. He means to keep you for himself.”

She stood like one turned to stone, unable to decide what should bedone. In that moment she seemed so beset and entangled that there was nopossible escape for her. She could not depart and leave Cavendish inthat dark hole, yet if she remained she might be forced to become thebride of Donatus, the brigand.

Maro was likewise in a fearful state of mind. Suddenly he snatched out apistol and threatened her with it.

“I had rather kill you with my own hand than leave you to either ofthem!” he hissed.

She clutched the pistol in his hand with both of her hands and sought towrest it from him. In the struggle it was discharged.

Donatus, the Suliote, gave a great start and then his legs buckledbeneath him and he fell prone to the ground.

Instantly Maro relaxed his hold on the pistol and sprang away. When thebrigands who remained by the fire turned to look they saw their chiefstretched on the ground, while the smoking pistol was clutched in thehands of the horror-stricken girl.

Instantly they were upon her. They wrested the weapon from her andpinned her arms at her side. One knelt beside the chief and made a hastysearch for the wound.

“Kill her!” snarled a little ruffian, flourishing a knife. “Cut herthroat! She has slain Donatus!”

He made a slash with the gleaming blade, as if he would sweep it acrossthe throat of the girl.

It was the voice of Donatus that checked them and kept them from doingher fatal harm. He had lifted himself to his elbow.

“Hold!” he commanded, in the tone none dared disobey. “Hold her fast,but harm no hair on her head. Where is Ruteni? Let him see how badly Iam wounded. Place her in the cave and guard her well.”

Then Flavia managed to drag those who had clutched her until she wasnear enough to sink on her knees beside the wounded and bleedingbrigand.

“Oh, I did not mean to do it!” she sobbed. “Believe me, I did not meanit! I tried to wrest the weapon from Maro, and it was discharged.”

The face of Donatus, outcast and wretch that he was, lighted with agreat look of relief. With an effort, he lifted a hand and touched hertangled hair.

“I believe you, Flavia,” he said. “You shall not be harmed. You shallremain with the Englishman.”

Then he gave a few low-spoken orders, and Maro saw Flavia led awaytoward the cave.

“Where is Ruteni?” again demanded Donatus. “Am I to bleed to death forneed of a little care?”

Soon the man called for came running from the darkness and droppedbeside the chief. He carried on his person a leather case, containingsome instruments and bandages, and he began at once to look after thewound by the light of the camp fire.

“What was the firing I heard, Ruteni?” asked the chief.

“Some one succeeded in passing the guards at the entrance to the valley,chief.”

“Succeeded?” said Donatus, as if he could not believe it. “How many ofthem?”

“Only one. He was crawling on his stomach like a serpent when they sawhim and fired. He sprang up and ran.”

“Into the valley?”

“Into the valley, chief. But he is only one, and he cannot escape. Theywill capture him.”

“Who could it be? Who would dare attempt such a thing? Ruteni, how badlyam I wounded?”

“I fear it is serious,” was the answer.

Water had been brought, and a few of Donatus’ band were watching thework of Ruteni, seeming benumbed and dazed by what had happened. Thechief saw them and said:

“Go! Help search for the one who entered the valley. Bring him hither,dead or alive. I am still your chief, and shall be as long as Ibreathe.”

The men obeyed at once, and besides Donatus and Ruteni only Maro andTyrus were left by the fire.

The guard still paced before the dark mouth of the cave, in which Flaviahad once more been placed.

“It is now our time!” whispered Maro, in the ear of Tyrus. “I haverecovered my pistol, and you are armed. Here are the saddled horses.Donatus is helpless. If necessary, we can slay Ruteni and the guard, andwe can be away with Flavia before the others return.”

Tyrus grasped the wrist of his desperate companion.

“I think too much of my life to try it,” he declared. “If you attemptthat, you do it alone, and you will be slain. Do not be a fool!”

Finally there was a great commotion in another portion of the valley. Asingle shot was fired, but shouts of triumph came faintly through thedarkness.

“They have captured the spy!” said the chief, with a smile ofsatisfaction on his ashen face. “Are you done, Ruteni?”

“I have done everything possible, chief. The wound is in your lung. Ifyou do not bleed internally——”

“If I do—what?”

“I fear you’ll not see the rising of another sun,” was the frank answer.

“And to-day, for the first time, I gazed on the face of the maid of mydreams. Do all dreams end in disappointment? Ruteni, roll me acigarette.”

The man had placed a robe, on which Donatus reclined. Ruteni rolled acigarette and placed it between the bearded lips. Then he struck a matchand lighted it.

Donatus drew in a whiff of smoke and coughed. A fleck of blood appearedon his lips.

“Take it, Ruteni,” he said sadly, surrendering the cigarette. “Throw itaway. I cannot smoke. To-day I found the one of my dreams. Am I to diethus soon by her hand?”

Some of the brigands came marching out of the darkness, bringing intheir midst a prisoner, his hands made fast behind his back. He was amere boy, with a tanned and rugged face and a fearless manner.

“Is this the spy?” asked Donatus, in surprise, as the captive stood nearthe fire. “Who is he?”

“I know who he is!” cried Maro furiously. “Only for him and that otherAmerican all this trouble would not have come, for we should havecaptured Flavia this morning. I entreat the privilege of slaying himwith my own hand!”

The captive was Brad Buckhart.

CHAPTER XXIX.—IN THE CAVE.

As he spoke those fierce words, the young Greek drew a knife. His facewas convulsed with passion and hatred for this daring American boy who,he believed, had caused him so much trouble. He longed to rush at Bradand stab him to the heart.

The manner of the Greek was enough to warn the Texan of his danger.

“Whoop!” cried Brad. “If the gent is anxious to enter into a carvingcontest, just give me a toadsticker and I’ll show him my style. I opineI can interest him some.”

Donatus weakly waved his hand.

“I am wearied,” he said. “I must rest. When I have rested I will saywhat shall be done. Until that time, place the boy in the cave.”

“But, chief, he is——”

The wounded brigand cut Maro short with a flashing look from his stillterrible eyes.

“What I have said I have said,” he declared. “Those who dare disobey meinvite destruction.”

Then, as directed by him, Buckhart was marched away to the cave, beforewhich the guard still paced to and fro.

Maro sank down, his face wearing a look of bitter disappointment. Tyrussquatted beside him, whispering in his ear:

“Be content that your life is still spared, boy. It was in wrenching thepistol from you that Flavia caused the accidental shooting of Donatus. Ifeared you would be slain for that. The girl, the Englishman, and thehated American boy are in the cave. They are guarded. Donatus is sorelywounded and may die. Pray the gods that we may escape with our lives.”

“And is this Donatus the man you befriended?” exclaimed Maro bitterly.

“Hush, you fool!” warned Tyrus; but the eyes of Donatus were closed andhe seemed to be sleeping.

Brad Buckhart had looked around for Flavia and Cavendish. In theblackness of the cave he could see nothing. The men who escorted himleft him, after warning him that he would be shot down the moment hetried to step forth, unless given permission to do so.

Then they departed. He saw their forms silhouetted for a moment againstthe glow of the fire as they passed from the mouth of the cave. Then theguard’s dark figure paced slowly across the opening.

“Well, here I am!” muttered the Texan. “I sure opine I’m in a right badscrape, and I’ll have to depend hugely on my pard to pull me out.”

“It is indeed a bad scrape you are in,” said the voice of a person nearat hand in the darkness of the place. “How in the world did you gethere?”

“Hello!” cried the Texan, in surprise and satisfaction. “Is that yourgentle warble I hear, Cavendish?”

“Yes, I am Charles Cavendish, a free-born Englishman, here held captiveby these dirty Greek brigands! Some one will pay dearly for it, too!”

“Fighting mad, I see,” half chuckled Buckhart. “Well, old man, thiscomes of monkeying round the Maid of Athens.”

“The Maid of Athens? What are you doing, quoting Byron?”

“I opine it was Byron that made me call her that, and I’ll bet a bunchof Texas longhorns that Byron’s maid wasn’t any prettier than Flavia.”

“Do you understand that, Flavia?” questioned the voice of Cavendish.“Did you catch the compliment of this devil-may-care youngster who is inthe trap with us?”

“I hear heem,” was the answer, in a voice that made Brad start! “sametime the English is hard to comprehen’.”

The Texan whistled.

“So Flavia is here with us, eh? And Maro outside! I don’t quiteunderstand it.”

Cavendish explained as well as he could.

“I fancy I came near being shot,” he went on, “when I saw that Greekruffian catch Flavia in his arms. They warned me I’d be shot down themoment I thrust my nose out of this cave, yet my blood boiled when heclasped her. However, he kept her from Maro, and now he’s in a bad wayhimself. Boy, I fear you and I will not live to see the rising ofanother sun. I fear these ruffians will cut our throats. As for Flavia,my soul shudders when I think what may become of her.”

“It shudders some, does it?” said Buckhart, with a touch of unspeakablescorn. “Well, I opine you see now, Mr. Cavendish, what a long-earedjackass you made of yourself by fooling round an innocent girl in thiscountry. You sure brought it on yourself by trying to deceive her.”

In the gloom of the cave Cavendish stirred suddenly, and Brad fancied hecould see the figure of the man risen to a standing attitude.

“Why do you say that?” hotly demanded the young Englishman. “DeceiveFlavia? How dare you accuse me of such a thing!”

“Steady, you!” growled the Texan, not a bit abashed by the evident rageof the other. “I want you to know that my pard and myself have seen andtalked with that blear-eyed old reprobate, Sir Augustus Camberwell. Wefound him in the midst of the wreckage after the brigands jumped you onthe trail. He was so nervous he was ready to shoot at his own shadow. Wechinned him some, and he gave it to us straight that the whole affairwas brought about because you met the girl by accident and took a fancyto fool her some. He allowed you never had the least idea of marryingher.”

Flavia had listened to all this and understood it. Now she uttered a cryand clutched at the young Englishman.

“Charlee!” she gasped; “Charlee, it is not true?”

Cavendish placed his arm about her waist and drew her close to him.

“It is not true, sweetheart!” he declared, with deep earnestness. “Imust confess that Sir Augustus thought so, for he could not understandthat I, a son of the house of Cavendish, could possibly mean to treat inan honorable manner a poor Greek girl of no family whatever. I tried totell him that I was in earnest, but I found that he would turn againstme the moment he believed it, and do everything in his power to separateus. The only way to obtain his assistance, which I needed very much, wasto let him believe I was playing the scoundrel in this manner. That iswhy I permitted him to think so.”

Needless to say Brad Buckhart had listened with deep interest to thesewords. He now stepped forward and his hand found Cavendish’s shoulder.

“How about that forged letter?” he asked.

“I confess it was forged,” was the instant answer. “I met Flavia byaccident and fell in love with her at first sight. She tells me that sheloved me the moment her eyes met mine. We met several times, and shetold me of Maro, and how her uncle was trying to force her into ahateful union with the fellow. We knew Tyrus Helorus would be enraged ifI simply presented myself and stated that I wanted Flavia for my wife,so we concocted a scheme we fancied might work. Flavia told me all abouther father, where he was in India and all that. I secured the service ofan expert with the pen, and the rascal forged a letter purporting to befrom Flavia’s father. The letter introduced me to Tyrus, who wasdirected to deliver Flavia into my care, as I would take her to herfather in India.”

“That was some slick,” commented Brad.

“But it didn’t work with Tyrus,” said Cavendish. “The old man smelled arat, you know. He pretended to think it all right, and he promised thatFlavia should prepare for the journey. But he whisked her away and hidher from me. I found her, and then he had me arrested on some sort of acomplaint. I was locked up, you understand, and I’d be there now onlyfor Sir Augustus, who used his influence to get me out. That’s how Ibecame tangled up with him, don’t you know. And now here we are. Whatthe deuce are we going to do?”

Brad found Cavendish’s hand in the darkness and gave it a hearty grip.

“Even if I am in a right tight predicament myself,” he said, “I’m sureglad my pard and I concluded, after leaving Sir Augustus, to try to findout what had happened to Flavia and you. Cavendish, we may all go overthe range into the unknown country beyond, but the jig’s not up, by along shot.”

The Texan lowered his voice to a whisper.

“Listen: My pard and I both got into this valley, though I was the onlyone seen. If those cutthroats hadn’t been miserable bad shots, I’d beenpeppered full of holes. They shot all round me. Then something trippedme as I was scooting, and they had me before I could recover. Here I am;but Dick Merriwell is somewhere out in the valley, and I’ll wager everyhoof on the Bar Z that we hear from him before morning. You want to holdyourself ready to move a whole lot lively when he takes a hand in thegame, for he plays his cards to win and makes no false moves. You hearme chirp!”

CHAPTER XXX.—OUT OF THE TOILS.

The mists of early night had dissolved in the valleys. Above the hillsthe pale stars glittered as the night wore on. Donatus, the Suliote,still reclined by the fire, his head pillowed on the saddle. Over him afaithful follower had spread a blanket to protect him from the coolnight air.

The fire sank lower. Even Maro, with his heart of fire, had at lastfallen into slumber.

The guard who had passed before the mouth of the cave, now unreached bythe firelight, seemed grown weary, for he made his beat with lessfrequence and regularity. Once he disappeared for such a length of timethat Buckhart was tempted, for all of the danger of being shot, to peerforth. But before the Texan brought himself to the point of risking theperil the guard reappeared, a blanket wrapped about him, pacing withslow step across the opening.

Flavia slept, her head pillowed on Cavendish’s lap. The Englishman hadremoved his coat and spread it over her.

“Poor girl!” he muttered, as he did so. “It’s a beastly shame! She’llget her death in this blooming hole!”

“Death isn’t the worst thing that can happen to her,” said the Texan, ina whisper. “But we’ll hope for better luck. Cavendish, I’m sure afraidsomething has happened to my pard. I’m afraid to wait longer for him tomove. Are you in for taking a chance?”

“What sort of a chance?”

“A desperate one. The band is asleep, though they’re all sleeping withweapons in their hands. The guard seems to be the only one awake, and Ijudge he’s half asleep.”

“Go on.”

“We’ll creep close to the mouth of the cave. The fire is down so it nolonger shines in at the opening, and we can get right close withoutbeing seen. When the guard passes, we’ll jump him. I’ll try to get himby the woozle and shut off his wind so he can’t peep. We’ll have to movea whole lot hasty, and if he raises any sort of a racket to awaken theothers, it will be a run for our lives, with bullets chasing us. Butremember that the gang shoot mighty bad. What do you say?”

“Flavia?”

“Of course we’ll take her. You’ll have to explain it to her.”

“She may be killed when they begin to shoot?”

“Better that than for her to be carried off by these cutthroats.”

Cavendish shuddered. The thought of placing the beautiful girl in suchperil of instant death was horrible to him. He bent in the darkness andgently kissed her parted lips.

“Charlee!” she murmured.

“With my life I’ll protect you!” he whispered.

“Wake her,” urged Brad impatiently. He had resolved on action, and everymoment seemed precious now.

Cavendish kissed her again and then gently aroused her. She wasfrightened at first, but he succeeded in soothing her.

“You are with me, Flavia,” he said.

“My Charlee!”

“Yes.”

“Oh, I dream such terrible thing!”

“Tell her our plan,” directed Brad.

Cavendish did so.

“You may be kill, Charlee!” she whispered, in terror.

“It is the only chance. We must try it. Remain here, Flavia, while wecreep close to the mouth of the cave and attempt to overpower the guard.If we fail and he raises an outcry, we will knock him down at least, andtry to secure his weapons. If you see us do that, come quickly and beprepared to run with us into the darkness. Are you brave, Flavia?”

“You make me brafe, Charlee. You brafest, bes’ man in whole world!”

Even as he closed her loving lips with another kiss a surprising thinghappened. Brad saw the guard halt at the mouth of the cave and lookintently toward the dying fire and the dimly seen sleepers about it.Then the fellow stepped into the cave!

The Texan gathered himself panther-like for the spring.

“Hist!”

The guard had paused, and from his lips came a sibilant sound.

“Englishman here? American boy here?” he asked, in a whisper.

“Whatever does this mean?” thought Buckhart, hesitating.

“Other American boy send me,” declared the guard. “He have horses ready.He pay me to help. I am sic’ being outlaw. He gif me drachma ’nough tomake me rich. I leaf this countree, lif hones’ some other countree. Ihelp you ’scape. You come now! Quick!”

“Great horn spoon!” breathed the Texan. “My pard has made a move! I knewhe would! Oh, he’s a bird, you bet your boots! But I don’t see how heworked the trick of bribing the guard.”

“Don’t be fool!” hissed the man. “No time for waste! Come now!”

He found Brad and thrust a weapon into his hand.

“Perhap’ have fight,” he said.

The Texan doubted no longer, for his fingers gripped the butt of apistol.

“Come, Cavendish!” he palpitated. “Here is where we prance forth andtrust to fortune and the sagacity of Dick Merriwell, the cleverest chapon two legs. You hear me gurgle!”

They followed the stooping, muffled guard. The moment they were outsidethe mouth of the cave he turned sharply to the right and hastened intothe enfolding gloom. They kept at his heels.

They had not gone far when Buckhart espied a prostrate figure on theground. It seemed like a dead man, and the Texan paused, not a littlestartled.

“What’s this?” he whispered.

“He tied, gagged, make no trouble,” explained the guard. “I take care ofthat. Horses ready this way.”

A loud cry rose behind them. They turned in alarm, but saw in the dimfirelight a man bending over the prostrate figure of the chief, who hadseemed to be sleeping.

That cry brought the brigands to their feet. The fire was stirred up.They saw Ruteni kneeling beside Donatus.

“He is dead!” declared Ruteni sorrowfully. “While we thought himsleeping, he died!”

Maro and Tyrus were looking on. They saw the brigands gather sorrowfullyabout their dead leader. A look of great satisfaction rested on the faceof the young Greek, and, seeing this, Tyrus hastily advised him toconceal his feelings.

After a little, Maro asked that the captives should be brought from thecave.

Two of the brigands hastened to bring them forth, but quickly theyreappeared, declaring that the captives were not there.

Snarling forth his fury, Maro caught a brand from the replenished fireand dashed into the cave. He was gone but a few moments when hereappeared, almost frothing in his madness.

“I have been deceived!” he cried. “While I slept you dogs stole Flaviaaway. Miserable, crawling things, where is she? Bring her to me withoutdelay, or I swear I’ll see that you all are delivered over to justice!”

One of the brigands swiftly approached him.

“You threaten us!” he said—“you, whose pistol slew our chief! I saw itall! But for your weapon Donatus would be living now. This for Donatus!”

Like a stroke of lightning he drove his knife into Maro’s bosom.

The valley was left far behind. The stars were beginning to pale. Stillthat muffled figure astride the horse in advance led them on.

They had trusted him. He had led them to the waiting and saddled horses,and he had led them from the valley, near the entrance to which anotherdark figure lay prone, but squirmed and rolled to get away from thehoofs of the passing horses.

But Brad Buckhart could stand it no longer. He urged his horse to theside of the mysterious figure, about whose shoulders the robe flapped inthe wind.

“Hold on here, you!” cried the Texan. “You told us my pard had bribedyou, but we reckoned we would combine with him a heap soon after leavingthat cave. Where is he?”

“When we leave cave you see man on ground, tied, gagged, still?”

“Sure thing.”

“That not him. You see ’nother man when we ride out from vallee?”

“Yes.”

“That not him. First man guard cave; other one guard vallee. Americanboy say him lif with Injun in America. Him creep on both. Jump on backs.Fix them. Tie fast and gag. Old Joe Crowfoot teach American boy trick.Him take clothes from both men all he need. Brigands see him then indark think him one of them. You want see American boy? Ha! ha! ha!”

“May I be shot!” growled the disgusted Texan. “I’m the biggest fooloutside the bughouse, you hear me!”

Then, with a swift movement, he reached out, caught at the muffling robeand jerked it away, flinging it aside.

The gray light of dawn was in the eastern sky toward which the face ofthe supposed guard was turned. It was a laughing face, that of a daringAmerican boy—Dick Merriwell!

“Brad, you’re easy,” he cried.

“Dead easy!” admitted Buckhart. “But you’re a wonder!”

They looked back. Cavendish and Flavia had permitted their horses toslow down. Their figures could be seen against the pearl gray of thesky. He leaned toward her—she leaned toward him—their lips met.

Dick and Brad were too far away to hear her whisper:

“My Charlee!”

THE END.

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