A Young Inventor's Pluck Part 38

"He--he may take it into his head to shoot me," faltered the hired man.

"He hasn't any pistol, we disarmed him," returned the farmer, frantically. "Are you going after him or not?"

"I'll go, sir," said the hired man, and hurried off as far as the bushes into which Mosey had first disappeared. But by that time the Irishman was a good hundred yards away, and running as rapidly as his limbs would carry him.

In the bushes the hired man came to a halt. He pretended to look around, but he did not venture a step further.

"Do you see him?" called out farmer Farrell.

"No, sir."

"Why don't you follow him up?"

"I don't know where he went to."

"He went up the sh.o.r.e. Quick, follow him, or I'll discharge you to-morrow morning."

Thus threatened the hired man started up the sh.o.r.e and then moved in the direction of the cottage, having a notion that Mosey might move in that direction, although he might have known better. A minute later he heard footsteps and came to a halt with his heart in his throat.

"If he attacks me I'm a goner!" he groaned, and then saw that it was Jack and not Mosey who was approaching.

"O, sir, he's got away!" he cried, with a feeling of relief when he recognized the young machinist.

"Got away? Who?" questioned Jack, quickly.

"The rascal named Mosey."

"When?"

"Just a few minutes ago, sir--when we were almost to the boat."

"What of Corrigan?"

"Mr. Farrell is watching him."

"But Mosey was bound?"

"I know it, sir. But he got away anyhow, and ran like a deer up the sh.o.r.e."

"Then he can't be far off," exclaimed Jack. "Were you after him?"

"Yes, sir."

"But if he went up the sh.o.r.e----"

"I was a-thinking he might turn toward the cottage."

"No, he didn't come this way."

"Then he must have gone that way."

"We must catch him," cried Jack, earnestly. "He has done too many wrong deeds to be allowed to escape in this fashion. Come on, follow me."

The young inventor pushed forward and the hired man came after him, but at what he considered a safe distance in the rear. Soon Jack was running up the sh.o.r.e at a point where there was a wide open field, which Pooler had once used for growing wheat.

As the young machinist came out on the edge of the field he saw a dark form just leaving the open s.p.a.ce at the opposite side. The form was that of Mosey.

"Stop, Mosey!" he cried, loudly. "Stop, it will be best for you!"

The cry from Jack alarmed Andy Mosey more than ever, and he tried to run with increased speed. But his first burst had been almost too much for him, and he was panting loudly for breath.

"Sure an' Oi can't make it afther all," he panted. "Bad cess to Jack Willington fer followin' me! Oi wisht Oi had me pistol. Oi'd soon be afther sthopin' his game!"

But Mosey had nothing more than a sharp stone, which he had picked up in the field, and at present he saw no way of using this, for Jack was too far off.

Feeling that he could not run much further, he looked around for some place where he might hide. A gnarled tree with low-spreading branches was not far away and to this he went and began to climb the trunk with all possible speed. Soon he was some distance from the ground and then he stretched himself on a limb and remained quiet.

Crossing the field at his best speed, Jack darted in among the trees and peered around sharply. Of course he could see nothing of Mosey, and he moved on for a distance of a hundred feet or more. Then he came back and stood directly under the tree in which the Irishman was hiding. In the meantime the farmer's hired man came to a halt in the middle of the field, ready to run at the first sign of danger.

"Mosey!" called Jack. "Mosey, you might as well give yourself up. You are bound to be caught sooner or later."

He listened, but no reply came back. Then Jack walked around the tree.

Now had the Irishman kept quiet he might have escaped the young inventor, but his success at getting away made him extra bold, and not knowing that the farm hand was near he resolved to do Jack a great injury. Bringing the sharp stone from his pocket, he took careful aim at Jack's head and let drive with all the force he could command.

Had the stone landed as intended the young inventor might have been killed, but as it was, on the instant that Mosey threw the missile Jack took a step forward, thinking to go on another hunt for the Irishman.

Consequently the stone merely grazed his shoulder, doing hardly any damage.

Much startled, Jack leaped forward and then turned around. He did not know exactly where Mosey was, but resolved to put on a bold front.

"So that is where you are!" he cried. "Do you want me to put a bullet through you?"

"Bad luck to yez!" growled Mosey, much crestfallen. "No, don't shoot me, Jack, me b'y. It--it was all a mistake. I thought ye was the farmer, upon me wurrud."

"Do you surrender?"

"Yis, yis!" Andy Mosey had a wholesome fear of being shot, and he could not see whether Jack had a pistol or not.

"How many more rocks have you up there?"

"Nary a wan, Jack, Oi only had the wan, upon me honor."

"Then jump down here, and hold your hands over your head. If you try to play me another trick I'll shoot you sure."

With a groan Andy Mosey descended to the ground, and then held his hands over his head.

"Now turn around and march the way you came. And don't you dare to look back," continued the young inventor.

"But, Jack, me dear b'y----"