Dick Merriwell Abroad Part 22

"We're not responsible any," retorted Buckhart. "Whatever made you get in my way and keep me from salting that ornery Spaniard good and plenty?"

"Out and after him!" cried d.i.c.k. "Don't let him get away!"

"He'll have to pay for that window!" yelled the landlord.

Then d.i.c.k led the rush from the inn. The door was thrown open, and they ran out beneath the stars.

They were just in time to see the closed carriage, with both horses at a dead run and the driver mercilessly plying the whip, whirl out of the yard, turn to the right and go clattering and rattling away on the frozen road.

A moment later a horseman shot past the opposite corner of the building and turned to the left.

As he pa.s.sed the windows from which the light was shining the Texan caught a glimpse of him.

"There goes the galoot hot foot!" he roared, and flung up his hand to shoot.

It was d.i.c.k who now grasped his arm and prevented him from firing.

"Steady, Brad!" cried Merriwell. "You don't want the blood of that dog on your hands!"

"I certain would like to know why!" retorted the excited Texan. "It would give me a heap of pleasure to bore him for keeps!"

"Let him go and--"

d.i.c.k stopped, for from the rattling carriage which had already vanished beneath the great tress that lined the road came wild cries for help, which were suddenly broken and checked.

"Great horn spoon!" palpitated the Texan. "Did hear that, pard?"

"I did, and it certainly sounded like the voice of Professor Gunn!"

"Just what I thought. You don't opine--"

But already d.i.c.k was rushing back into the inn, and Brad quickly followed him. Up the stairs they leaped, a.s.sailed by a new feeling of fear.

The broken door of the professor's room hung on a single hinge, just as the Texan had left it. The light of the glowing fire and of a single candle showed them the comfortable interior of that room, but they saw nothing of Zenas Gunn.

"Professor--Professor Gunn!" called d.i.c.k.

"Where are you? Answer me-answer at once!"

But there was no answer.

"Search, Brad!" urged d.i.c.k. "He may have been alarmed by the uproar and concealed himself. Look on the bed behind those curtains! Look under the bed! Look everywhere!"

Even as he was urging his friend to do this d.i.c.k flung open the door of a wardrobe and looked within. Then he caught up the candle and hastened into the adjoining room, looking in every nook and corner, meanwhile continuing to call to Gunn.

A few moments later the two boys met in the first room and stood face to face, staring into each other's eyes.

"Where is he, partner?"

"Gone!" said d.i.c.k. "Brad, that was the game!"

"I don't just rightly see how--"

"First Bunol was to be given a chance at me. If he failed, the professor was to be captured and carried off. He was in that closed carriage!"

"Sure as shooting!"

"Come!"

The flushed, wild-eyed, excited landlord appeared in the door and attempted to check them, demanding why they had turned his house into a Bedlam.

d.i.c.k swept him aside.

"No time to explain now!" he declared. "We'll explain to you later."

The boys rushed downstairs once more, out of the inn and round to the stable. A hostler demanded to know what had happened.

"Hi'd like to 'ave you tell me what it's hall habout!" he said. "Why did the gentlemen 'ave their 'osses taken hout and then 'ave them 'itched in hagain in such an hawful 'urry?"

They seized him and demanded to know where their own horses were. Their manner frightened him.

"Those men were ruffians, and they must be caught," said d.i.c.k. "Help us get our horses to pursue them. If you don't you may be taken as the accomplice of the scoundrels. It's worth a pound note to you, my man, if you get our horses out instantly and provide us with bridles for them."

This inducement led the hostler to move quickly. He found the bridles and brought out the horses. The boys lost not a second in helping bridle the animals. At the same moment, it seemed, both flung themselves astride the beasts. A cowboy yell broke from the lips of the Texan-a yell that sent his mount bounding forward with surprise and fear. d.i.c.k smote his horse with his open hand, which fell with a pistol-like crack on the animal's rump.

"Hold on!" shouted the hostler. "Where is that pound note you said I should 'ave?"

He ran after them, but neither of the boys paused a moment to respond, and quickly they vanished down the dark road that turned away beneath the great trees to the right. Back to his ears came the clatter of hoofs on the roadbed, receding and growing fainter in the distance.

Both boys were ready for any emergency as they galloped mile after mile along that road.

Twice they pa.s.sed branching roads, but chose to stick by the princ.i.p.al highway, although it was impossible to say that they were following the right course by doing so.

"It's more than even, pard," said the Texan, "that the onery varmints turned off on one of those other roads. We're going her a whole lot on pure luck."

"We have to," said d.i.c.k.

Down a hill and over a bridge they flew. By this time the horses were breathing heavily and beginning to perspire. Their breath whistled through their nostrils and they would have slackened the pace had they been permitted.

On and on until at last, descending yet another hill, they came upon the wrecked carriage lying in a splintered heap by the roadside.

They flung themselves from their nearly exhausted horses, the creatures willingly stopping and standing with hanging heads and heaving flanks.

"Whatever happened here, pard?" cried Brad.

"Smash up," answered d.i.c.k. "Must have been a runaway and a bad one, too."

Amid the ruins of the carriage they found a man lying ominously still.