neither boy nor dog paused till they came to the dusty road. there bouncer stopped and ran excitedly about the spot where the big man had taken may nell in his arms; doubled back on his track, stopped again, and looked up at billy, perplexity written all over his face. billy encouraged him with word and caress; but he came at last, put his nose against billy’s knee, and whined apologetically.
“never mind, bouncer. i’ve another card up my sleeve!” he patted and hugged the old dog till his tail waved once more gracefully over his back. “here! try this. sic ’em!” billy thrust the scraps of red silk under his nose; and in an instant bouncer was off after the new scent.
“i knew it!” billy panted feverishly. “the ha’nt!” heedless of the dog running with his nose close to the ground, billy rushed on. his shirt was torn, his trousers hanging by one suspender, his shoes cut and one tap turned back. ashes whitened his hair; though at the back a dark mat was still damp from oozing blood,—the handkerchief that had bound it had been torn off by a twitching twig. his smarting eyes watered so that he could hardly see his way. yet of all this he was unconscious. weariness, pain, his cracked and bleeding lips,—he knew nothing of them, felt nothing.
it was as if some tremendous force had taken possession of his tired, stricken body, and carried it on with no volition of his own. afterward he remembered, understood; knew it was his own will that rose and ruled every bodily faculty; knew, and was glad, for that day he stepped into a realm of power he should never lose as long as he lived.
in front of the stone steps that led up to the barred door he hesitated; but the dog raced round to the rear. instantly billy followed.
what if the italians should be there? impossible. surely they would be on the mountain fighting fire. what if the door should be locked? the thought made him tremble, yet he hurried on and softly tried the handle. it would not open!
baffled, yet knowing he had expected it, he ran this way and that, peering round each corner, scanning the bare, high walls to see if by chance some window had been left unbarred. not one less than a dozen feet from the ground! he ran back to the door, was almost tempted to shake it, yet knew that would be a foolish trick; some one might be within guarding may nell; might at the first noise still more securely hide her,—they said there were fearfully deep and dark cellars under that house! she might come to—to some dreadful harm!
in desperation he stood still, gazing at the windows above; reprimanding the dog sharply when he whined, though his fingers unconsciously patted away the sting of the rebuke.
the solid rock of the mountain had been cut away from the rear of the house to form a natural, paved court. at the top was a small chicken coop, its wall flush with the wall of rock; and near it grew an oak sapling not larger than billy’s arm.
it quickly occurred to him to run around and climb up there by the coop. perhaps he could see into the windows—perhaps see— he didn’t wait to finish his thought, but scrambled frantically up the steep and came around to the top of the wall. the window opposite and level with him was bare but not as dirty as the others; and against it he saw a bed-post. anyway that room was used by some one besides ghosts, he thought; and wondered what to do next. just then bouncer sprang up and gave a single short bark, his bark of greeting.
“she’s there, old dog!” billy caught bouncer’s nose tight in his hand to prevent a repetition; and at that instant may nell herself appeared at the window!
it took two hands to hold the dog’s mouth shut now; and for a minute that billy thought much longer, it seemed as if he never would be able to make him keep quiet. but he succeeded at last, and turned again to see may nell standing in full view with her finger on her lips.
“are you hurt?” billy spelled with the hand alphabet every boy and girl knows.
“no; well,” came the answer.
“alone?”
“not in the house; in this room, yes.”
“who?”
“one of the brothers, hurt.”
“any one else?”
“i don’t know.”
“open window.”
“i can’t. nailed.”
“break it,—not now; when i tell you.”
“no, no! they’ll kill us!”
from where he stood billy could see the distress in her face. he must think of a way to get her, and he must, must hurry!
he ran back a few steps and found a loose board he had climbed over when coming up. this he carried to the edge of the wall. “when i call,” he spelled out, “break window, use chair, come across on board.”
she shook her head.
just then he saw a wagon in the distance rounding the curve of the mountain. this was his minute. he must get her before that team passed. then if any one attempted to prevent him he would have help. he turned back to may nell.
“you must do it,” he spelled. his stiffened fingers must have carried authority, for she nodded; and he saw her get a chair and stand with it, ready to do his bidding.
he lifted the board, trying its weight. could he ever get it safely placed? higher he lifted it, and began to let it drop; but he saw that if the other end missed the window sill, it would pull him down to the court below. frantic, he stared about for help, for inspiration. he dared not wait till the passers came in hearing; the sound of his voice calling might too soon rouse men inside, make them shoot perhaps. as it was he expected every minute to see a swarthy face appear, a hand with a knife or pistol. it was not for himself he feared, but for may nell, the little girl who for some strange reason was worth something to these desperadoes, and whose life would be on his soul if he did not save her.
his boyish knowledge and imagination, equal to many pictures of danger for the girl, did not extend to her captors. he never stopped to consider, nor would he have understood if he had, the plight of the criminals. he knew that two had been captured, one of whom before that had carried off may nell; but his small newspaper reading of “gangs” of counterfeiters had given him visions of dozens of desperate criminals, terrorizing communities, and equal to any bold crime. now in his mind’s eye he could see men skulking in the brush, listening in rooms below, only waiting to pounce on may nell the moment she smashed the window. oh, yes, he must hurry—hurry!
in his distress his wandering eye discovered a bunch of vine ties, short pieces of soft hemp rope for fastening vines to their supporting stakes. they were hanging against the rear of the coop, and a gust of wind had blown them into view. like a flash he sprang and caught them; tied several together in quick, strong knots, and lashed himself to the little tree. then he took up the board again, poised it at a perpendicular, calculated the angle, and slowly dropped it. would the end reach the sill? no, it was too short!
he tried to hold it from falling, but could not. it seemed as if his arms would be pulled out of their sockets. it would fall short—he must hold on to it, not let it strike below, for the noise would betray them too soon; and—the men in the wagon were passing!
with a supreme effort he straightened his arms just as the board reached the level of the sill, pushed it forward with all his might; and—it caught! caught by an inch or less!
“stop!” his upheld warning hand said to may nell. he found his knife, cut his lashings, and beckoned to her vehemently. he waited only for the crash of glass and sash, when he threw himself outstretched on the ground, and pushed the board hard against the lower edge of the window frame.
“it’s up to you now, my girl,” he panted under his breath. “the board will bend—you mustn’t be frightened. fix your eyes on the tree—come fast.”
gee! it was a scaly trick for a little girl, he thought; and felt sick. would the plank bend too much? slip? she was such a little thing—if only she could be a truly fairy for a minute!
“oh, god, walk with her!” he prayed silently when he felt her weight first touch the board; prayed as he never had before. it seemed as if something strange and strong was going out of him right to may nell.
yet almost before the prayer was breathed the child with incredible swiftness scudded across the bending board and stood safe by his side!
he sprang up, caught her hand, and raced with her down the rocky steep, calling wildly to the men in the wagon as he ran. bouncer, no longer watched, vented his pent-up excitement in noisy yelps; and above the din billy heard loud angry words in a foreign tongue that he knew were execrations, commands to return.
it seemed to him that his voice made no sound; that may nell never ran so slowly; that the travellers would surely not hear him, not stop. how could they hear in all the noise?
yet they had already stopped, turned, and driven quickly to the house, hurried by the frenzy in the boy’s tones.
“take her in,” billy gasped. “they stole her; they’re after—save her—hurry—” he could say no more, but suddenly collapsed and sank to the ground; and the last sight he remembered was the dark italian at the house corner, talking fast, with one hand in a sling, the other waving a knife threateningly.
yes, billy had fainted for the first time in his[239] life. the two men, heedless of the italian, took the boy up gently. one sat in the bed of the wagon and held billy as easily as possible, while the other lifted may nell to the seat, mounted beside her, and drove rapidly back to town.
