The Telegraph Messenger Boy Part 11

"I don't hear him."

"Of course not. Because he's standing still and listening to us."

"Flash your bull's-eye into the alley."

When Ben Mayberry heard this order he trembled, as well he might, for he was so close to the scoundrels that the first rays of the lantern would reveal him to them. Indeed he dare not move, lest the noise, slight as it was, would bring them down on him.

He grasped the ragged stone in his hand and braced himself for the explosion that he was sure was at hand.

But fortunately, and most unexpectedly, the crisis pa.s.sed. The other villain growled in return:

"What do you mean by talking about a bull's-eye? I doused the glim long ago."

"Why did you do that?"

"The cops are watching us too close. I had hard work to dodge one of 'em to-night. Do you s'pose I meant to have him find any of the tools on me?

Not much."

The other emitted another sulphurous expression, and added the sensible remark:

"Then there's no use of our hanging around here. He's smelt a mice and dodged off, and we won't get another such a chance to neck him."

These words sounded very strange to Ben Mayberry. Well might he ask himself what earthly purpose these scamps could have in wishing to waylay him in such a dark place, where he was not likely to secure help. The latter part of their conversation proved they contemplated violence.

"There's one thing certain," Ben said to himself, "if I manage to get out undiscovered, I will see that I am prepared for such gentlemen hereafter."

The couple suddenly stopped talking, for the sound of approaching footsteps were heard. The two moved into the alley, and a minute after a heavy man came ponderously along with a rolling tread. He was puffing at a cigar, whose end glowed so brightly that the tip of his nose and his mustache were seen by the three standing so near him. Ben believed the wretches intended to a.s.sault and rob the citizen, and doubtless they were none too good to do so. In case the attempt was made, Ben meant to hurl the stone in his hand at the spot where he was sure they were, and then yell for the police.

Policy alone prevented the commission of the crime.

"We could have managed it easily," whispered one, as the portly citizen stepped on the bridge and came in sight under the lamp-light, "but I guess it was as well we didn't."

"No; it wouldn't have paid as matters stand. We might have made a good haul, but the excitement to-morrow would have been such that we wouldn't have had a show to-morrow night."

The heart of the listening Bob gave a quick throb, for this was another proof of the intended crime on Thursday evening.

"Well," added one, "that telegraph fellow was too smart for us this time, and has given us the slip. We may as well go home, for there's nothing more to do."

Thereupon they began walking toward the creek, with the deliberate tread of law-abiding citizens, who, if encountered anywhere on the street at any hour, would not have been suspected of being "crooked."

Ben Mayberry had good cause for feeling indignant toward these ruffians, who clearly intended personal violence toward him, and who were, in all probability, desperadoes from the metropolis, brought into Damietta for the most unlawful purposes.

When they had gone a short distance, Ben stepped out of the alley upon the main street, and stood looking toward the bridge. This was slightly elevated, so that in approaching from either side, one had to walk up-hill. The illumination from the lamp, of which I have made mention, gave a full view of the structure itself and all who might be upon it.

Ben saw his pursuer, in the first place, when he stepped on the planks, but the light was at his back, and he shrouded his face so skillfully that not a glimpse was obtained of his features.

In a few minutes the conspirators slowly advanced out of the gloom and began walking up the slight ascent toward the bridge, becoming more distinct each second. When they reached the middle of the structure, they were in plain sight, but their backs were toward Ben, who, however, had them where he wanted them.

"I think I can plug one of them," muttered the shortstop of the Damietta club, as he carefully drew back his arm and fixed his eye on the fellows.

"At least, here goes."

Gathering all his strength and skill, he hurled the stone at the one who, he believed, had been lying in wait for him. The whizzing missile shot through the air like a cannon-ball, and landed precisely where the thrower intended, directly between the shoulders of the unsuspecting villain, who was thrown forward several paces by the force of the shock, and who must have been as much jarred as though an avalanche had fallen on him.

CHAPTER XX

WATCHING AND WAITING

What imaginings were driven into the head of the ruffian by the well-directed missile it would be impossible to say, but it is safe to conclude he was startled.

His hat fell off, and, without stopping to pick it up, he broke into a frantic run, closely followed by his companion, neither of them making the least outcry, but doubtless doing a great deal of thinking.

Ben Mayberry laughed until his sides ached, for the tables had been turned most completely on his enemies; but he became serious again when he wended his way homeward, for there was much in the incidents of the day to mystify and trouble him.

His mother had retired when he reached his house, but there was a "light in the window" for him. The fond parent had such faith in her son that she did not feel alarmed when he was belated in coming home.

Ben made a confidante of her in many things, but the truth was he was outgrowing her. She was a good, devout lady, but neither mentally nor physically could she begin to compare with her boy.

Had he made known to her the contemplated robbery, or his own narrow escape from a.s.sault, she would have become nervous and alarmed.

Ben did not tell her about the affray with Rutherford Richmond and his companion, for it would only have distressed her without accomplishing any good.

He saw that his terrible adventure the preceding winter, on the wrecked bridge, had shocked her more than many supposed, and more than she suspected herself. The consequences became apparent months afterward, and caused Ben to do his utmost to keep everything of a disquieting nature from his beloved mother.

On the morrow Ben told me the whole particulars of his adventures on the way home, and asked me what I made of it.

"I give it up," I answered. "It's beyond my comprehension."

"Do I look like a wealthy youth?" he asked, with a laugh.

"It is not that; they have some other purpose."

"Do they imagine I carry the combination to some safe in the city, and do they mean to force it from me?"

"Nothing of that sort, as you very well know. It looks as if they really meditated doing you harm."

"There is no room for doubt; and it was a lucky thing, after all, that the night was so dark, and the city don't furnish many lamps in that part of the town. Do you think I ought to tell the mayor or some officer about this?"

"Could you identify either of the men if you should meet him on the street?"

"I could not, unless I was allowed to examine his back, where the stone landed."

"Then there's no use of telling anyone else, for no one could help you.

You had better carry a pistol, and take a safer route home after this.

One of these days, perhaps, the whole thing will be explained, but I own that it is altogether too much for any fellow to find out just now."

It was natural that I should feel nervous the entire day, for there was every reason to believe we were close upon exciting incidents, in which fate had ordered that Ben Mayberry and myself would have to make the initial movements.