Part 30 (1/2)

Strong in the presence of each other, we had for a moment forgotten that we were in the land where a brain disordered was at liberty. We, the criminal hunters, were but human--and this was our error.

_CHAPTER XXI_

_The Attack_

We had advanced along River Road to its junction with the Highway, and Martin had just closed in from behind as Dr. Moore started to say something about the dinner that was coming, when, just as we came into the shadows of the great trees to our left, a flame, instantaneous, reddish-blue, streaked forth from the side of the road and a deep, m.u.f.fled, cras.h.i.+ng sound came to our ears. Everyone recognized it instantly--it was not the high crack of a modern weapon such as we carried, but the unmistakable guttural of an old-style heavy revolver.

An instant, and the voice of Oakes rang out, cool, but intensely earnest, ”To cover”--and we covered. Never before had six men melted from a close formation so rapidly, so silently, so earnestly.

Dr. Moore, Elliott and I reached the trees on the other side together, and lost our ident.i.ty trying to find a place for our hunted bodies. We lay down in a heap behind a burned tree-stump, and said ”d.a.m.n”

together.

Somewhere around was the fiend of Mona, and somewhere were Oakes, Hallen and Dowd, but not with us--we could swear to this, for we were in a cla.s.s by ourselves and we knew one another even in the darkness.

We heard a sudden scuffle in the road, and saw a giant figure rush by us, throwing a silhouette on the roadway. It turned, faced about and crouched as another figure darted from the woods across the road. Then the figure crouching made a spring, and the two swayed to and fro before us like great phantoms, and then the figures separated, and one started down the Highway followed by the other at breakneck speed. Then we heard the voice of Oakes from somewhere:

”Halt! or I'll shoot.”

The fugitives stopped, ducked, dashed toward us and by us, into the woods, and after them came the report of Oakes's revolver--we knew it by the quick, high-pitched note--and then--Oakes himself. It was evident to us he had fired in the air, for we all saw the small flame point heavenward as his weapon was discharged.

Neither fugitive slackened his speed, but both rushed across the plains east by northeast into the face of the moon as it rose off the plateau of Mona.

”What is who?” gasped Moore.

”The which?” I answered, as a polar chill chased up my spine.

”Oh, the d----l!” soliloquized Elliott.

”See, the second man limps--he must be O'Brien; he is chasing the first one,” whispered the doctor as we gazed into the night.

”And Oakes is cavorting after the bunch--I play him straight and place,”

spoke Elliott; ”he is gaining.”

We watched Oakes, fleeter than ever, steadier, disappear in the distance as the moon entered a pa.s.sing cloud-bank and all became lonesome and dark.

”Let's get on the plain,” said Elliott, and we crawled as best we could out of the woods toward the place where the three were last seen by us.

”Let's be in at the finish,” I cried, and we started in the dim steely haze of the obscured moon to follow the chase. Darkness impenetrable came on, and suddenly a wild moan of anguish reached us--an awful, convulsive cry of terror. It neared us and was in our very neighborhood--in our midst--and again away; and with it came the rush of feet, heavy and tired, and soon the light tread of the pursuer--the athletic, soft tread of Oakes. I shall never forget that cry of terror.

It was as though the soul had left the body in anguish--it was a cry of fear greater than man seemed capable of uttering.

From out of the darkness came the voice of Moore: ”A maniac in terror!”

Then the heavy tread was upon us again, a body darted past me, and the heavy revolver spoke again. I felt a stinging sensation in my arm, a numbness, a feeling of dread and of fear; then I reeled and recovered, and looking around me saw the figure das.h.i.+ng away like mad. The moon was uncovering again, and the fighting instinct of the brute was aroused within me. I knew I was wounded, but it was a trivial matter. I felt the surging of blood to my brain, the pumping of my heart, the warmth and glow of the body that comes when one rallies from fear or surprise, and the next instant I was off in pursuit.

Always a good runner, I seemed endowed with the speed of the wind; slowly I gained. The man before me ran rapidly but heavily; he was tired. He glanced around and moved his arms, and I realized that he was unarmed. His weapon had fallen. I shut my mouth and saved my breath, and loosened joints which had not been oiled since the days of long ago, when I played on my college foot-ball team. Slowly I closed in--the capture was to be mine--the honor for Stone, yours truly--lawyer. I unreefed some more, and the ground went by under me like mad. I was dizzy with elation and courage and bull-hearted strength, and then, just as I came within talking distance of the fleeing terror, there was a report and my right leg dragged, my stride weakened and tied itself into bowknots, and I dropped my revolver. I realized I was done for. We all know the symptoms--the starboard front pulley of my new Broadway suspenders had ”busted.”