The Bail Jumper Part 13

The early darkness closed down quickly; the great cloud in advance of the storm, rolling in the heavens like a mighty fish, had swept far to the eastward; the lightning now played in dazzling flashes from cloud to cloud and from cloud to earth, its zig-zag course marking the rarer atmospheres, and accompanied by a growing, growling chorus of thunder as the menagerie of the skies roared and crackled on the crest of the storm. The blinding light left the eyes useless in the dark, and it was with difficulty Burton followed the trail.

Presently the rain came on. Swept by a mighty wind that overturned more than one top buggy that night, a few great, scattered drops dashed against the ground, then the wind subsided and was followed by a sudden stillness so intense it could be felt. But it was for an instant; a great rift of lightning shook the clouds asunder and their pent-up load of moisture poured out upon the earth. In a moment Burton was drenched to the skin; the prairie roads were running in water; and as he floundered on a cold wind struck him that brought a shiver, not for himself, but for the farmers whose fortunes were all on the growing fields. Then the thought came to him that if he should be caught unprotected in the hail he would be killed. He had faced the lightning without fear, but the prospect of being gradually pummelled to death was not inviting, and he began to look about for some place of shelter. It was not until now that he realised he had paid no attention to the course he took, and although most of the country was familiar to him in daylight he had no idea where he was. To his great relief a warm breeze sprung up, which indicated that the hail strip was narrow and had probably chosen another course, and he struggled on through mud and water hoping that every flash of lightning would reveal some place of shelter. But the country seemed strangely desolate, and the night must have been half spent before he caught an instant's glance of a building.

He pressed toward it, and another flash revealed a deserted log hut which he now recalled as being only a few miles from town and but a short way from the main road that led to Grant's. The windows were gone and the door was off its hinges, but it would at least be better than outside, and he hurried toward it. As he did so through the darkness he fancied he saw a gleam of light in the deserted building. It was not lightning, and yet he could have sworn it was no trick of the imagination or the nerves. As he drew nearer he saw it again-a dull flicker lighting up the square framed by the empty window. Stealthily he approached the building.

CHAPTER X-PLAYING THE GAME

"Hear ye a little lesson-can ye the truth divine?

Milk ye may mix with water, and water will mix with wine; Mix as ye may on your prairies, mix in your hope and toil, But know in all your mixing that water won't mix with oil!"

_The Empire Builders._

With only one run to the good, Harry Grant in the pitcher's box, the bases full and n.o.body out, the finish of the ninth inning in the last game of the Dominion Day tournament looked gloomy enough for Plainville.

The sun was gilding the crest of a great cloud which was already casting its shadow over the prairie, the air was close and hot, the band had long since exhausted their repertoire, and its members, big-lipped from their day's exertions, gazed dry-throated at the tragedy on the diamond; the Plainville backers, who all day long had placed their two to one on the home team, were stamping up and down behind the ropes that winged the grounds, chewing their cigars and swearing vaguely. The "rooting"

was over; there is a point beyond which no loyalty can "root"; the situation was too dramatic for speech. Even the supporters of the opposing team were too excited to hollo, they had holloed all day against discouraging odds, and now, when a little lung power might well have been brought to the support of their favourites, they found themselves voiceless from sheer exhaustion and surprise.

In a buggy facing the grounds from the right fielder's corner sat Gardiner and Miss Vane. The bright face and the electric mouth seemed intent upon the game before them, but in the eyes was a hollow look that might have told any keen observer the brain was wandering in far fields.

"It's bad," said Gardiner. "The worst possible. He can never climb out of that hole."

"At any rate he will try," said the girl, absently. "You think he will run away?"

Gardiner turned and looked at his companion quizzically. She gave a little start and a flush stole through the deep ivory of her cheeks and forehead. "I-I beg your pardon," she stammered. "I was thinking."

"You are thinking too much. If I had known it would spoil your day's enjoyment I would not have told you."

"How could you think otherwise? You know he was, that is, he is, our friend."

"Just a friend-is that all?" Gardiner pressed the question.

"Oh, look, that is two strikes. Harry is keeping his head. Let us watch the game," and Miss Vane seemed lost in the scene before her.

The ropes along the wings stretched and swung with the ma.s.s of humanity leaning over them; in the grand-stand every eye was on the pitcher, as tense as though life itself depended upon the delivery of the next ball.

Harry saw one crooked finger below his catcher's mitt, and prepared a hot in-shoot. An out and a drop were responsible for the batter's two previous abortive swats, and this change should fool him. A right hand batter seldom looks for an in-shoot with the bases full; the chance of a walk is so big it frightens most pitchers, but Harry's catcher had decided on heroic measures.

The base runner from third led up. Standing on his right foot, an inch outside the pitcher's box, Harry feinted at third and drove the adventurous runner back; the next instant he was back in the box and had delivered the ball to the batter.

But his caution was his undoing. He purposely threw a little wide, to avoid the possibility of striking the batter. Six feet from the base the ball broke and cut straight for the centre of the plate. It was only a fraction of an instant, but in that fraction the batter swung and caught it a straight drive over second. A yell broke from his sympathisers as he dashed for first.

Billy Haynes, the hardware clerk, was holding down second. Billy was long and agile and a rapid thinker. He had the two first requisites of a baseballer-a quick eye and a quick brain. As he saw the hot shot coming four feet above his head he sprang two steps backward, jumped, and brought it to earth, dropping it as he fell. The next instant he had one hand on his base and the other on the ball, and almost before the umpire could detect the play he had thrown, not to home, but first. For an instant the third base runner hesitated, fearing a caught fly, and that instant cost his side the game. He fully expected Haynes would play home, and hesitated again; when he saw the ball delivered to first he dashed forward, but he was too late. The sphere seemed hardly to stop at first at all; it simply changed its course there and shot home, beating the runner to the plate by a good two feet. The game was over.

Plainville had won. It was the only triple play seen on that diamond for many a day, and the crowd went wild with enthusiasm. Billy Haynes was borne aloft by his admirers, and the other partic.i.p.ants in the play were thumped and shaken by the hero-hungry mob. By dint of much profanity the band leader was able to muster two cornets, a trombone and a base drum to play the National Anthem as the crowd hurried from the grounds. It would soon be closing time at the village bars, and there were many thirsts to liquidate.

But even as they walked the short distance from the grounds to the town the minds of the visitors were turned to another matter. The sun was obscured, and up from the west a great ma.s.s of cloud heaved higher and higher. The old-timers needed no second glance; a Dominion Day storm was considered as much a matter of course as the baseball tournament and the football game between English and Canadians, and young men and old hurried to the livery stables and the stock-yards, where their horses were tied, in an endeavour to get home before the weather broke.

Gardiner drove up town for a waterproof, and by the time he and Miss Vane were at last on the road to the Grant homestead it had grown quite dark. It was the eastern girl's first experience with a severe electric storm on the prairie; several thunder showers had swept by during June, but nothing so terrifying as this. The lightning became more and more vivid, and after every flash the horse would pause, uncertain of his footing in the darkness. Then the distant growl of the thunder added its accompaniment, steadily growing in volume and intensity. Gardiner was not an expert horseman and had some difficulty in keeping the animal on the road. The poor creature had little relish for the trip and would have much preferred to hurry back to his stable in town.

Suddenly a terrific squall of wind burst upon them, and before Gardiner had time to square the horse up to it it had tipped the buggy and whipped the reins from his hand. The animal, terrified by the storm, staggering over one shaft, and feeling all control removed, dashed in a panic across the prairie. Presently the rig struck a post, the shafts were torn free, and the horse disappeared in the darkness.

Gardiner extricated himself from the wreckage. "Are you hurt, Miss Vane?" he asked, anxiously.

"No, I think not," said the girl, as she dragged herself free. "Oh!" A smothered cry escaped her lips.

"You are hurt," said Gardiner, as he raised her in his arms. "You are hurt. Tell me. Let me help you."

The gale had swept by, and the air was very still and warm.

"No, I am not hurt-much," she answered. "But we cannot stay here. It will rain soon, and the lightning is-" She closed her eyes. "Can't we go somewhere? Can't we walk home?"

"I am afraid we must try," said her companion. "Or I might go back to town for another rig?"

"No, we will walk home. We must be more than half way. Let me see-what direction is that?"

"South, I think."

"No, it must be west. Surely it is west?"

"Let us follow the fence; it must lead somewhere."

At that moment a tongue of fire came leaping along the upper wire of the fence. Both drew back, as though to dodge the electric current.

"The further from the fence the better," said Gardiner. "There is no place so dangerous in a thunderstorm. Let us keep to the middle of the roadway."

They moved to the right, but at the first step a groan escaped the girl's lips. "My ankle," she moaned. "I-I must have hurt it."

Gardiner stood irresolute. "Can you lean on it at all?" he asked.

She placed her weight gently upon the ankle, but a flash of lightning revealed a wince of pain across her face.

"I must carry you somewhere," said Gardiner. "We cannot stay here. The rain is coming on, and perhaps hail with it. We shall be drenched, at least."

"I think I can walk if you will help," she ventured bravely. "Stand here, to the right. Let me rest my arm on your shoulder."

He obeyed. Resting her right hand on his left shoulder she limped painfully a short distance through the darkness. The rain began to fall in great scattered drops, then a vicious rent of lightning seemed to shake the whole heavens, and it fell in floods.

They had worked their painful way about fifty yards. The road was now running in water, and the slippery mud made walking still more difficult. One little shoe drew off and was lost. At every flash they took their bearings for a few feet further, but it became more and more evident they would be unable to reach shelter.

"You must leave me," she said at last, shouting in his ear to make herself heard. "I cannot go much further. You can find your way to town, or perhaps to a neighbour's, and get another buggy. I will stay here."

"Then I will stay with you," her companion answered. "I cannot leave you alone on the prairie in such a night. Besides, I don't know where we are. I would never find my way back. We must-h.e.l.lo, what is that?"

"What? I saw nothing."

"Look this way." He pointed through the darkness. "Watch for the next flash."