CHAPTER XVIII.
A DESPERATE ENCOUNTER.
"How far do we have to go?" queried August, after the hack had rattled onfor some minutes in silence.
"Eh?"
"How far do we go?"
"How far?"
"Yes," cried the young engineer impatiently, not relishing the apparentobtuseness of the man outlined before him.
"Excuse me," said the man; "I was in a brown study and did not catch onto your remark. If you will please repeat it, I will then try to answer."
"Aren't you the gentleman who sent the note?"
"Certainly."
"Then you must know how far it is to the place where Silas Keene is lyingwounded and dying."
"Certainly I do. Mr. Keene is about four miles from your place, at asmall cabin in the woods--"
"Indeed! How did he come to be in such a place?"
"He was on somebody's trail."
"You are acquainted with Mr. Keene?"
"Yes."
"Your name is Henry Jones?"
"It is."
"Why did you not come for me in person without writing the letter?"
"That might have been the proper way, but I am not like other people, Mr.Bordine. I am considered a peculiar man. It was a freak of mine, Isuppose, that I did not do as you say. Fact is, I did not think itpossible for me to leave Keene at the time I wrote the letter."
"You afterward found him better?"
"Slightly, yes."
"Is he badly hurt?"
"He will die."
"In what manner was he injured?"
"He was flung from a horse."
"In the city?"
"No, in the woods while he was in pursuit of a burglar."
"Indeed!"
Then the young engineer fell to thinking deeply. He was not exactlysatisfied with the situation of affairs. He was well assured of onething, however, and that was that something had happened to Silas Keene,and it seemed that the mystery of the detective's disappearance waslikely to be revealed this night.
After a time the lights of the city disappeared and the hack rattled onover a country road.
When at length it came to a halt, intense darkness surrounded them.
Mr. Jones rose and opened the door.
The two alighted.
Jones paid the driver for his services, and then the two men stood alonebeside the road, with the dying rattle of swift-flying wheels in theirears.
"What now?"
This question fell from the lips of August Bordine as he gazed about himin the darkness.
"This way."
A hand fell to the shoulder of Mr. Jones. "See here," cried the engineer,"I am not fully satisfied with these proceedings."
"Aren't you?"
"I am not."
"You can return if you like, only it will be hard on the poor man wholays on a rude cot in the shanty over yonder, dying. He said you was hisfriend."
"An acquaintance only."
"Very well, you can do as you choose about continuing the journey. I haveacted in good faith all along."
"How much farther is it?"
"About half a mile."
"Go on, I will follow."
And then the two men moved from the road, following a path into thewoods.
August began to suspect something wrong, but he felt that he had gone toofar to turn back now, and with his hand on the butt of his trustyrevolver, he went forward, resolving to see the adventure through to theend.
Every now and then a bush would brush the face of Bordine, showing thatthe path was narrow and the wood dense.
Presently a light flashed through the darkness, and soon our twopedestrians found themselves in front of a log cabin, that stood a fewyards back from a narrow, brawling creek, whose waters were lashed tofoam over rocks and stones.
"This is the place."
Mr. Jones pushed open the door and bade his companion enter.
"Go on; I will follow."
Thus urged, the man walked into a dimly-lighted room, which was almostentirely bare of furniture.
August followed and gazed about the cabin, not a little surprised to findit empty. A light burned on a shelf at one side of the room--a tallowdip--that sputtered and threatened soon to leave the place in totaldarkness.
The cabin presented no evidence of having been inhabited of late.
One glance about the room, then August regarded his guide for the firsttime in the light.
He started involuntarily.
He had seen the man before. It was the same person he had seen in thecarriage with the woman on the day that he first noticed the placardannouncing a reward for the capture of Victoria Vane's murderer.
He had heard him called Mr. Brown.
This fact at once roused the suspicions of the young engineer tofever-heat. He believed now that he was the victim of a deep-laid plot.
With his hand on his revolver, he looked the bearded stranger squarely inthe face, and said:
"Mr. Brown, what does this mean?"
But the man addressed thus abruptly was not looking at August. Instead,he gazed beyond, into the depths of the night outside, the door standingopen.
There was the sound of a step outside.
Bordine turned quickly.
A stalwart form was framed in the narrow door--the form of Perry Jounce,the tramp!
There was the gleam of a devil in the man's eye, and in his right hand heclinched the haft of a huge knife.
Instantly the young engineer realized that murder was intended.
Self defense is the first law of nature, and Bordine acted upon it withthe quickness of lightning. His right hand shot forward, a bright flashfollowed, and the next instant the burly form of Perry Jounce disappearedfrom the doorway.
He had fallen, bleeding, to the ground, from the bullet August Bordinesent hurtling into his face.
Before the young engineer could turn, a pair of strong arms encircled hiswaist, and he was crushed to the floor under the weight of the mancalling himself Henry Jones.
Our young engineer had not yet regained his full strength since his hurtin the runaway accident, and taken at a disadvantage, he labored in vainto throw off his antagonist.
"Confound you!" hissed the man in a voice full of intense wrath, "I'llfix you so you won't shoot any more honest men."
He clutched his antagonist by the throat, and attempted to throttle him.
August prevented this, turned suddenly, and hurled his foe backwardagainst the wall.
With a leap like a tiger the engineer came to his feet.
"Hold up!" yelled Jones, whose face was bleeding from scratches receivedin the scuffle.
Panting from exertion, August leveled his revolver and fired.
His hand was unsteady, and the bullet flew wide of the mark.
At this moment a sound behind him warned Bordine to guard his rear. Heturned to see the man he supposed dead once more on his feet, with bloodyface and flowing eyes, clutching at the side of the door to steadyhimself.
The sight startled the young engineer, and deeming it best to seek safetyin flight, he turned, dealt the reeling tramp a tremendous blow in theface that swept him from his feet, and dashed swiftly into the blacknessof the night.
The man in the shanty sprang swiftly after, anxious now to prevent theescape of his intended victim.
If Bordine escaped them the country would ring with the news of theattempted tragedy. Dashing with the swiftness of a deer, Jones passedover the bulky form of Perry Jounce, and caught the outlines of thefleeing engineer moving directly toward the foaming creek.
He had him now.
With the creek before, and a determined man with a cocked revolverbehind, it did not seem possible for the engineer to escape.
"Halt!"
Was Harry Jones anxious to capture his man alive?
Evidently not, yet the call to halt had the effect desired. Bordine cameto a momentary pause on the bank of the
brawling creek--long enough forhis mad pursuer to take aim and fire.
With the flash and report came a loud cry, as of a human being in pain.Instantly, on firing, Jones darted forward.
He was just in time to see the engineer plunge headlong into the boilingwaters of the creek!
"Good by, young chap. I reckon you won't trouble your betters again,"cried the elated homicide. "The Alstine fortune shall yet besmine--selah!"