Kitabı oku: «Dick Merriwell Abroad: or, The Ban of the Terrible Ten», sayfa 12

CHAPTER XXVI. – WAS IT A MISTAKE?

Although the Greeks pursued them into the city, they made no attempt to recover possession of Flavia.

What they did do, however, was something alarming.

At intervals they called to other men, friends or acquaintances, and many of these joined them in following the girl and her escort. This little band of dogged pursuers grew by ones and twos until there were in all 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. It would not surprise me if we were attacked and murdered right here in the city of Athens. I am in favor of calling for protection by the ‘Agents of Peace,’ as they call the police here.”

“Now, don’t you know, really I wouldn’t do that,” objected Sir Augustus Camberwell. “Really I wouldn’t.”

“Why not, sir?”

“On account of the girl, don’t you understand! The blooming Agents of Peace might ask us to explain what we are doing with the girl and why we withheld her from her uncle, don’t you see! Don’t have anything to do with the Greek bobbies. We have but a short distance farther to go – a very short distance.”

So the Agents of Peace were not appealed to by them, and at last they reached the hotel where Sir Augustus and Charles Cavendish were stopping.

“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 that crazy fellow, her uncle wishes her to marry, drew a knife on you. It is really wonderful that two boys and an old man should be able to stand those two ruffians off.”

“Old man!” exploded the professor indignantly. “Who are you calling an old man, sir? I would have you understand that I’m younger than lots of men half my age.”

“No offense, professor,” Cavendish hastened to say. “You are indeed remarkably young for your years.”

Zenas sniffed and hemmed in a manner that denoted he was not fully pacified.

Both Cavendish and Sir Augustus seemed anxious to get rid of the Americans.

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 of their 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’t understand why we were not attacked by that band of men who gathered to follow us. It is certain that the Greek of to-day is not much like the Greek of old. In ancient times we would have been overwhelmed and slaughtered like dogs.”

Dick was silent and moody. He seemed thinking of something that was far from pleasant. Even after they had reached their hotel and were in their rooms he maintained an air of gloomy thought.

“Whatever is troubling you, pard?” questioned Brad, when the professor had retired to his room.

“I am thinking of Flavia – poor Flavia,” answered Dick. “Her situation bothers me, Brad. I almost fear we made a mistake to-day.”

“I’ve been thinking some that same way,” declared the Texan, springing up and beginning to pace the floor with long strides. “I sure didn’t like old Augustus any, and Cavendish didn’t hit me any too well. You don’t suppose that young snipe is fooling that girl, do you, Dick?”

“That is a hard question to answer. There is something queer about this affair. Flavia says Cavendish is going to take her to India, where her father 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 come direct to the girl?”

“You tell!”

“Sir Augustus is an old rascal, and from his manner I inferred that he held the idea that Cavendish is crooked. Brad, if we have been instrumental in getting that beautiful girl into trouble, instead of helping 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 Peace and 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 Cavendish out 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 line here, and it’s likely good coin would cause the authorities to wink at an intrigue between a gay young Englishman and a girl of poor family.”

At this moment Professor Gunn came prancing back into the room, very much 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! He ought 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 country on 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 friend of 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 the chumpiest variety.”

“I’m with you,” said the Texan.

“Boys, boys, boys!” spluttered the professor. “I hope you are not going to do anything more that is rash. I can’t permit it. I must object. I must put my foot down.”

“Don’t worry about us, professor,” said Dick. “I feel the need of a brisk 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,” he declared. “I shall not permit you to leave this room.”

Dick managed to appease and reassure him in a short time, and soon he left the hotel, accompanied by his chum.

“What’s your plan, pard?” asked Brad, as soon as they were on the street.

“I’m going direct to Cavendish and Camberwell,” said Dick. “Unless Cavendish can satisfy me beyond the shadow of a doubt that his intentions toward Flavia are perfectly honorable, I’ll denounce him to the authorities, and push the matter against him, even if I go to jail myself 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 hotel where they had left the Englishmen and the Greek girl, they met with a most surprising disappointment when they arrived there. They were informed that Cavendish, Camberwell, and Flavia had just left in a closed carriage. The carriage was pointed out to them, just disappearing down a street that seemed to lead toward the outskirts of the city.

Only a moment was Dick Merriwell nonplused. Then he called for saddled horses, and the money he displayed brought him the assurance that his wants 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 they were not armed.

“Oh, for a brace of revolvers now!” he cried. “If we had the guns we certain 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 perfect confidence in his bosom friend. If Dick said they would do a thing, that settled it – it was as good as done.

So it happened that in a very few moments the two daring American boys were mounted and riding at a breathless gallop along the street of that Greek city.

The carriage had disappeared from view some time before, but the boys kept on, hoping fortune might be with them.

Not far from the outskirts of the city Dick paused to question some laborers. One of the men could speak good English, and he immediately declared that he remembered the carriage. He directed them, and they were soon galloping onward once more.

The street they now followed quickly brought them to the open country outside the city. In the distance lay some low, rugged hills, which from that point seemed rather barren and forbidding. The road led up a steep incline.

“Pard,” said Brad, “I’m sure afraid we’ve missed them. We can’t see anything of them anywhere.”

“Perhaps we have,” admitted Dick; “but let’s get to the top of this hill and take a survey.”

They clattered up the hill. Near the crest, the road wound round the shoulder of an immense bowlder, which was fully as large as a small cottage.

Sitting on the ground with his back against the rock and his body in the sunshine, being fully protected from the rather chill wind that swept the top of the hill, was a ragged beggar. He held out his open palm to them.

“Drachma,” he said. “Drachma.”

“Whatever does he mean by that?” asked Brad.

“Money,” said Dick. “Evidently he takes us for wealthy foreigners, else he would not ask for drachma, which has a value of something like twenty cents in our money.”

Dick produced a coin and tossed it shimmering toward the beggar, who deftly caught it.

Then the boy began to question him, using a little “modern Greek” and many signs. The beggar was grateful and seemed anxious to understand and aid Dick. He even rose to his feet and drew nearer.

Dick sprang down from his horse, giving the bridle into the hand of his companion. With his finger he swiftly drew a crude picture in a patch of dust beside the road. It was the picture of a closed carriage.

The beggar understood in a twinkling. He nodded excitedly, jabbering in his own language and motioning for the boys to follow him. Turning, he ran to the point where the road disappeared round the shoulder of the bowlder, pausing again to beckon them on.

Merriwell leaped into the saddle and the two lads rounded the rock at the heels of the beggar. The man pointed along the road, and amid some bare trees on a slope half a mile away the carriage was plainly seen, a tiny cloud of dust rolling up behind it.

“Whoop!” shouted Buckhart. “There she is, pard! We’re still on the trail!”

They did not pause to thank the beggar, but were off down the hill, the hoofs of their horses ringing clear on the hard and stony road.

It was dangerous to ride as they rode, for that strip of road was anything but good. Still they took chances and dashed onward.

It seemed that some one in the carriage observed them, for they soon decided that the horses attached to the vehicle had been forced to greater 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 with Flavia.”

“It’s a whole lot queer they were able to get away from that hotel and out of the city without any of that bunch of Greeks interfering.”

“I’ve been thinking of that. After following them to the hotel, it seems that 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 another road, and it was plain that they were pushing their mounts. They soon disappeared 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 this road 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 round that ridge at the western end, and I believe they mean to intercept it where the roads cross.”

“Partner, I allow you have figured it out proper. That being the case – ”

“Tyrus and Maro are leading the horsemen.”

“I’ll bet on it.”

“In which case there is liable to be bloodshed. Camberwell and Cavendish may be butchered by the engaged uncle and lover.”

“That’s whatever.”

“They may deserve it, but still it’s our duty to prevent it, if possible.”

Even while riding at full gallop the boys had managed to carry on this conversation. But now, as they reached the last declivity of the road, and were descending into the valley between the two ridges, Dick’s horse stepped on a loose stone and fell as if shot.

Had not Merriwell been an expert horseman that accident might have been fatal. He shot over the head of the horse, having managed to free his feet from the stirrups with the quickness of thought itself. Striking on his 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 was almost impossible to say that he had been down at all.

As the horse rose Dick had the creature by the bit and was talking soothingly to it.

Having uttered an exclamation of dismay, Buckhart reined in as soon as possible and turned about. An expression of relief shot over his rugged face as he saw his friend on his feet, holding the frightened horse by the bit.

“Good work!” shouted the delighted Texan. “It certain takes more than a little thing like that to put you down and out, partner.”

Dick managed to fling himself into the saddle. As his feet found the stirrups once more, he waved his hand to Buckhart.

Brad wheeled his own horse as Merriwell came alongside, and they were off again, making for the rise beyond the hollow.

Dick, however, quickly made an unpleasant discovery. His horse had been injured, and quickly showed signs of lameness as they struck the rise. In fact, the creature limped and betrayed signs of distress, beginning to fall back.

“Hard luck, Brad!” said Dick. “The beast is hurt, and will be scarcely able to hobble in a few moments.”

The other boy drew up somewhat, turning his head to anxiously regard his friend’s faltering mount.

“That’s right,” he said. “At first I reckoned you both had come through all right. If the horse is that lame as quick as this, it will be plumb done 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 hobbling stride of the animal he bestrode.

“Keep him going, pard,” urged the Texan. “This is a right desperate case, and you’ll not be to blame for the horse if he is ruined. I’m some anxious to see that the Maid of Athens gets a fair deal in the game, and I’m afraid the cards are stacked against her.”

So Dick urged the faltering horse onward, and they toiled up the road on which they had last seen the closed carriage.

Suddenly from beyond the ridge came electrifying sounds. The air bore to their ears the distant barking of firearms.

“I judge the scrimmage is on, Dick!” palpitated Buckhart. “The battle is taking place and we’re not in it. What a howling shame!”

“Wait, Brad!” cried Dick. “I’ve got to quit this horse. Your animal must carry us both.”

He leaped to the ground as the Texan pulled up. With another bound he was up behind the Texan. The lame horse was abandoned.

“Git!” cried Buckhart.

The animal bearing the double burden responded nobly. Up the road and round the shoulder of the ridge they went.

The shooting had ceased as suddenly as it began. All was silent before them. 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 glimpse of another brown highway, the one on which they had seen the galloping horsemen. It was plain that the two roads met not far beyond.

They had made no mistake in thinking it the purpose of those horsemen to intercept the carriage. The sound of firearms had told them that the meeting was not of a peaceful nature. Dick dreaded yet was anxious to know the result.

Beyond and beneath them was a gloomy hollow. But for the clatter produced by their own horse, they might have heard the echo of hoofbeats receding and dying out in the distance of that hollow. The nature of the landscape concealed from their eyes the road that led through it and into the rugged hills beyond.

Soon they came dashing into view of the carriage they had pursued. It was overthrown on its side. One of the two horses that had drawn it was down. The driver had managed to clear the other animal, which was taking all of his attention. He was the only human being in sight. As they came on, he gave them an apprehensive look, seeming on the point of abandoning 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 carriage leaped a puff of smoke. A pistol spoke and a bullet sung unpleasantly near 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 a glimpse 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 shattered door of the carriage.

It was Sir Augustus Camberwell, and his whole appearance was that of a man so badly frightened that he was liable to do almost any freakish thing. He held in his hand the pistol with which he had fired at the approaching lads. A bit of smoke still curled from the muzzle of the weapon.

“Really is – is it you – my – my dear boys?” he chattered, seeming to shake all over like a man with the palsy. “I – I thought it was – those ruffians returned to – to finish me up, don’t you understand.”

“Yes, we understand,” said Dick. “You lost your wits completely. Lucky for 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 our horses! 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 you know. 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 the trouble. 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 a little village where Charlie and the girl could stay till he got ready to quit his foolishness. Thought the Greeks had gone to notify the authorities, and raise a row. Thought they were satisfied after they found where we were stopping. Saw nothing of them. Improved the opportunity to get away.”

It was not the habit of Sir Augustus to express himself clearly and concisely, but his condition of nervousness seemed to jerk the words out of him in an astonishingly crisp manner.

“What do you mean by saying that Cavendish and the girl could stay in your quiet little village until he quit his foolishness?” demanded Dick. “Do you intend to convey the idea that he was not going to marry Flavia?”

“Marry her?” cried Camberwell. “How ridiculous! Why, he would disgrace his family, don’t you know!”

Dick Merriwell’s eyes blazed with anger.

“Then it is evident at last that Charles Cavendish is as great a scoundrel as Sir Augustus Camberwell!” he said, in deep disgust.

“What, sir – what?” gasped the Englishman, in astonishment. “How dare you use such language to me!”

“Give it to him, pard!” advised Brad, who was standing near, holding the horse. “Tell him a few things good and plain.”

“You got off too easily,” said Dick. “They should have hanged you to the limb 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 your record, Camberwell. I know that you disgraced your family in England. I know you have left a track of wretchedness and ruin behind you all through life. And now you connive with a young reprobate to deceive an innocent 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. You ought to get twenty years in a Greek prison – you and Cavendish.”

“Be careful!” snorted Sir Augustus, rising to his full height and clambering forth from the smashed carriage, while he shook his pistol at the daring American lad. “I have money and influence – and friends in Greece.”

“I don’t care what you have; you have entered into a dastardly plot, and I hope to see you properly punished.”

“I knew nothing of it to begin with,” averred the Englishman. “Charlie sent for me. I was his father’s friend. Of course, I brought my influence to bear to have him released. I had no part in forging the letter. That was done before I knew Cavendish was in Athens. The girl knew the letter was forged. Don’t think she is such an innocent little – ”

“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 and wrenched 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 his face, 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 a decent 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 no question about that, for she told us so. She has fled from Maro, who would have married her any day, to this English reprobate, who only means to deceive her. But I fancy that Cavendish will get all that’s coming 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 you ever 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 do keep the girl, for he’s crazy over her, and I can’t swear he wouldn’t be foolish enough to marry her.”

Dick turned in disgust from Camberwell to the driver, who stood looking down 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 very bad scrape.”

“As he richly deserves to be,” declared Dick.