CHAPTER XXIII.
A QUEER MISTAKE.
The aim of the would-be assassin was not good. His bullet flew wide ofthe mark.
Why?
The deep growl of a dog was the disturbing cause.
As Hank Jones pulled the trigger, a shaggy object bounded through thebushes full at the throat of the villainous murderer.
August recognized the peddler's dog. Man and dog rolled down the bank tothe water's edge. In the struggle the disguised outlaw's beard was tornoff, and Andrew Barkswell stood revealed.
"Curse you, I'll knife you for this!" grated the baffled villain.
The next instant a keen blade gleamed in the air, just as a voice called:
"Tige, come off."
The dog was used to obeying his master's voice, and so he released hishold just in time to avoid the knife of the maddened Barkswell.
"Here, Tige."
The dog came bounding up the bank.
The single eye of the peddler glanced down at the man who struggled tohis feet at the water's edge, and sprang into a canoe.
"So, you, Tige. Why was you going for our friend in that way?"
The peddler patted his dog and talked scoldingly until the escapingvillain was well out in the stream, paddling away.
Quickly Hiram Shanks strode down to the water.
"Hey, you, man--August, what you leaving for? You'll surely get caught."
It will thus be seen that the peddler, who was hidden from thefisherman's shanty by a line of bushes, had mistaken the fleeing man forhis patient.
The man in the boat made no response to the call of Shanks, and soon waslost to view behind an abrupt bend.
"Well, that beats me," muttered the one-eyed man, as he gazed over thewater at the point where the canoe and its occupant had just disappeared.
Then, as he turned to ascend the bank, he noticed that Tige heldsomething in his teeth--a heavy black beard!
Seizing it, the peddler examined it closely, then exclaimed:
"A disguise! Well, I'm puzzled now more than ever. I thought AugustBordine a much abused man, and now it turns out that he's a villain afterall, and able to pull the wool even over _my_ eyes."
Slowly Hiram Shanks ascended the bank. His dog uttered a joyful bark, anddashed through the bushes toward the little shanty.
"Here you, Tige," called the peddler.
"Bow-wow-wow!" was the answer from the faithful dog.
Hiram Shanks moved through the bushes, and then uttered a surprisedexclamation. Reclining on the old blanket where he had left him wasAugust Bordine, the young engineer.
"Bless my heart! young man, I thought I saw you just now riding away in acanoe."
"You see your mistake now, I suppose," returned August, trying repeatedlyto smile.
"And it wasn't you, after all?"
"Certainly not."
Then August explained the situation in a few words. When he had finishedthe peddler tapped him gently on the shoulder and said:
"I am greatly relieved. I know that man now. He has caused all themischief. You and he look as near alike as two peas. The clouds arerolling by and I see my way clear. It won't be long before theauthorities as well as the people will be astounded with the arrest ofVictoria Vane's murderer. It will astound them because they will find inthe real murderer not the man they expect."
The peddler spoke so enthusiastically as to attract the notice of hislistener.
"Are you on the track of the assassin?" questioned Bordine.
"I am."
"Then you are a detective?"
"If I succeed, yes. You see, I am but an amateur now. Whisky and anunfaithful woman poisoned me almost to the death. I saw that offer offive thousand dollars reward, and it stimulated me to new life. That is agood deal of money, my boy, especially to one in my circumstances; and soI thought to myself, if I could only win that reward, I could tog up ingood shape and enter the business world once more. I've been aiming forthat, and I mean to gather it in."
"I sincerely hope you may Mr. Shanks."
* * * * *
The days passed; a fortnight was gone, and yet no news of the youngengineer who had so mysteriously disappeared from his home on the nightbefore the arrest of Mrs. Bordine.
That lady was well treated by the sheriff's family, but was not permittedto have communication with the outside world, so that she realized thatshe was a close prisoner all this time. The reader can easily imagine howthe old lady suffered, with a dark cloud hanging over the name of herson. She, of course, firmly believed in his innocence, and would notcredit the story that he had fled to escape arrest. There was a mysteryabout his continued absence for which she could not account, and whichgave the good woman no end of trouble.
"I would trust August with my life," she more than once asserted. "Hedoes not come because he fears arrest, but some accident has befallenhim, and it may be that we shall none of us see him again, for I fear heis dead."
It was thus the old mother talked to the officers, and to Miss Alstine,who, in the kindness of her heart, visited her lover's mother.
Of course that lover was as nought to the young heiress now. She believedhim to be a villain of the deepest dye, yet she could not tell herthoughts to that trusting old mother who seemed so wrapped up in her son.
"The idea that he could harm anybody," declared Mrs. Bordine to Rose,with both plump hands on the girl's shoulders. "Why, he never even somuch as killed a chicken without shuddering."
"We will hope that a mistake has been made, dear Mrs. Bordine."
"And you are so kind," returned the old woman with tears in her eyes. "Doyou know, Miss Alstine, I want to ask your forgiveness."
"For what, dear?"
"For unkind judgment of you."
"I am sure you never have misjudged me, dear."
"Oh, yes I have."
"How?"
"It was one day when August had been up to your house. He was dreadfullydown in the mouth when he came back from that visit. He'd been jilted hesaid, by you, and I told him right for ever trying to win the heart of arich girl. I said some very harsh things of you, Miss, things that I knownow weren't true. Of course I can see now that you had some good reasonfor not wishing to marry a poor engineer, a reason that was aboveregarding his poverty. I won't ask you what it was, for if the poor boyis dead it won't make any difference, and--and--"
Poor mother.
She broke down then completely, and fell to sobbing on the breast of thesympathetic Rose.
Ah, yes, she knew why she had refused to see the widow's son thateventful day, and it was not poverty that drove him out of her life.Rose, however, would not explain now, nor ever to Mrs. Bordine. Sherealized that the kindly soul had never realized the truth regarding thedual character of August.
If he never returned it was well that she should think of him always, asnow, true and dutiful, a model man and son in every respect.
Officers were now more than ever on the alert. Everybody was anxious towin the magnificent reward, and it now seemed very easy of attainment,since the real murderer was known.
Would he fall finally into the hands of the law?
This was the question that Rose asked many times of herself. It would bejustice, and yet it would grind her heart to know of his dying on thescaffold.
Was he guilty?
Another question.
Could she doubt it, remembering the scene in the garden at the house ofher lover?
One evening while Rose, unattended, was hastening along the street towardthe city prison, she suddenly became aware that a man was following her.There was something in his walk and general appearance that seemedfamiliar, but she could not see his face, since his hat was down low,shading it completely.
She had reached the entrance to the sheriff's office, and placed her handon the knob, when the man sprang quickly to her side and seized her arm.She uttered a startled cry and pushed o
pen the door.
"One moment, Rose!" cried the man, hoarsely. He snatched the hat from hishead and bent his face close hers.
The girl uttered a great cry.
"Great Heaven, _you here, August Bordine!_"
And then Rose closed the door and leaned heavily against the wall.
HE SNATCHED THE HAT FROM HIS HEAD, AND BENT HIS FACE CLOSETO HERS.]