Dick Merriwell Abroad: or, The Ban of the Terrible Ten

“Where is he, partner?”

“Gone!” said Dick. “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.

Dick 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 Dick. “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. Dick 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 passed branching roads, but chose to stick by the principal 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 Dick.

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 Dick. “Must have been a runaway and a bad one, too.”

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

“Is it the professor?” whispered Buckhart, fearfully.

Together they dragged away some of the debris, and then Dick struck a match. The mask that had hidden the face of the man was covered with blood and partly torn away. His face was badly cut.

“Luke Durbin!” shouted the boy from Texas, as Merriwell fully removed the bloody mask and held the match with the reflected light flung from the hollow of his hands.

“That’s who it is,” said Dick.

“And I opine he’s cashed in. This was the end of the racket for him.”

Dick struck another match.

“See!” he exclaimed, as the light of this second match fell on Durbin’s mutilated face. “He’s not dead!”

The eyelids of the man fluttered and his eyes opened. A groan came from his lips.

“It’s some rough,” said the Texan; “but you’ve got only yourself to blame for being here.”

The man’s bloody lips moved and he sought to speak, but the husky sounds he uttered could not be understood.

“Durbin,” said Dick, “your pals have left you here to die. Did you aid them in capturing and carrying off Zenas Gunn?”

Another painful effort to speak resulted in nothing that could be understood.

“Tell me the truth,” urged Dick. “You can see how they deserted you. Why should you shield them? Did you carry off the old professor? Can’t you answer? If you would say yes, close your eyes and open them again.”

Slowly the wretch closed and opened his eyes.

“Where is he? Where have they taken him?”

It was impossible for Durbin to answer in words.

The boys lifted him and lay him on the cold ground by the roadside.

“I judge he’s mighty near gone, partner,” whispered Brad. “It’s bad we have to lose time like this. We ought to be doing something for the professor.”

“We can’t leave this man to die here alone like a dog, no matter how bad he has been.”

“He sure has got what was coming to him.”

“But he’s a human being. Think of leaving any human creature to die here in such a manner!”

“Think of Professor Gunn!”

“If we find out without delay what has happened to the professor and where he has been taken, we must learn it through this man. In case he knows – which is pretty certain – he may tell everything if he finds he is going to die.”

“That’s correct, Dick. You’re always the long-headed one. But if he can’t talk, how are we going to learn anything from him?”

“If we had a stimulant or restorative of some sort – ”

“Liquor?”

“Yes; as a medicine liquor is all right when properly used. As a beverage it is poisonous.”

Although Dick fully believed in temperance, he was not a crank, and he knew that liquor had its good uses, although almost invariably it was put to a bad use.

“But we haven’t a drop of the stuff. What can we do?”

“Is there no way for us to get him back to the Robin Hood?”

“How’ll we make the riffle, partner?”

Dick meditated a moment. As he did so, both lads heard in the distance the sound of hoofbeats and the rumble of wheels, telling them that a carriage was approaching at a rapid pace.

“Somebody else driving a heap hard, Dick,” said the Texan. “Perhaps more trouble is coming.”

“We’ll have to be ready for anything. If it’s some one we do not know, we’ll appeal to him to take this man in and carry him back to the inn.”

They waited, Buckhart producing his pistol, while Dick led the horses aside beneath a tree.

Back along the road a short distance there was an opening among the trees, and soon the carriage, drawn by a single horse, came rumbling through this star-lighted spot.

Dick joined Brad.

“We’ll have to stop it, even if we scare the driver out of his wits,” he said.

The boys stepped into the road and called to the driver. Immediately a man rose up in the carriage and cried:

“Who are you? Have you seen anything of two boys on horses, riding as if pursued by Old Nick himself?”

“We’re the boys, I fancy,” confessed Dick. “You’re Mr. Swinton, of Robin Hood’s Tavern.”

It was the landlord, and he jumped out in a hurry when he found he had overtaken Dick and Brad.

“Look here, you chaps,” he cried, “don’t you think you can upset my house, smash windows and doors and run away without paying the damages! I’m an honest man, and what’s happened to-night at my place may ruin me. I demand damages, and you’ll have to pay ’em.”

“All right,” said Dick quietly. “Although we’re not responsible for the things that have happened, we’ll pay a reasonable damage charge if you promptly take into your carriage and carry to the inn a man who has been seriously injured here and may be dying. I’ll pay you for your trouble with him, too.”

Although still suspicious and doubtful, the landlord was somewhat mollified.

“How did it happen?” he asked, as he stooped and peered down at the injured man.

“There’s the carriage,” explained Brad, “smashed a whole lot. I opine they had a runaway. Don’t waste time in asking other questions. Time is powerful precious to-night, and every minute counts.”

The injured wretch groaned as they raised him and placed him in the carriage, which the driver had already turned about. The driver proved to be the hostler, who reminded Dick that he had not received the pound note promised him.

“I’ll pay you as soon as we get back to the tavern,” was the promise. “Had no time to do it before.”

Before starting on the return, Dick made another examination of the injured man to see if his wounds were so serious that he might bleed to death on the way, but found that the cold air had caused the blood to congeal, and that there was no danger from the source feared.

Mounted and riding close behind the carriage, the boys turned their faces toward the inn, their hearts heavy in their bosoms, for the uncertainty of the fate that had befallen Professor Gunn oppressed them.

“For all of the accident and the smash-up,” said Dick, “Bunol’s game to carry off the professor has succeeded.”

“That’s right,” agreed Brad. “But why should he do anything like that? I confess it puzzles me up a plenty.”

“Recall his little trick at Lochleven.”

“That was some different. By getting hold of Dunbar Budthorne he hoped to force Nadia into a marriage with him. He reckoned that, to save her brother, she might hitch with him.”

“You don’t think he counts on murdering Zenas Gunn, do you, partner?”

“No; had he intended to murder the professor he would not have gone to so much trouble to capture him and run him off. The men who did that could have finished the old man in his room at the tavern while we were having our little racket with Bunol below. Bunol knows the strength of the law and fears it. He’s none too good or too timid to commit a cold-blooded murder, but he fears the consequences of such an act. To-night he told me he has dogged us everywhere since we left Kinross. We did succeed in fooling him by helping Budthorne and his sister to get away secretly. Having lost track of Nadia, Bunol has followed us, believing we would join the Budthornes sooner or later.

“Of late he has been growing impatient. Finding we contemplated visiting Newstead Abbey and the haunts of Robin Hood, he decided to strike a blow here in this forest. Some of his spies must have learned from our conversation and inquiries that we meant to remain overnight at Robin Hood’s Inn. Having learned that much Bunol acted swiftly. Durbin was with him, and probably Marsh. He must have secured the aid of ruffians who were familiar with this part of the country. He had an idea that, could he meet me face to face and quite alone, he might exercise his newly discovered hypnotic powers on me, and this he tried to do to-night. But I know something about hypnotism myself, and I was able to combat him and defeat him on his chosen ground.

“He had prepared for defeat, having instructed his ruffianly tools to capture and carry off Professor Gunn, whom he knew to be timid, old, and incapable of making serious resistance. Through threats of what he may do to the professor he hopes to bring me to my knees. It is his object to conquer us now, Brad, for he is sure he can accomplish his designs on the Budthornes, once he can place us beyond interfering and baffling him. Without doubt he will threaten and frighten Zenas into telling him where to find Nadia Budthorne. I do not fear that he will seriously injure the old professor, unless Zenas was injured in the runaway and smash-up.”

“But Nadia!” cried Brad. “If he forces the professor to tell where Nadia may be found – ”

“We’ll lose no time in sending a warning message to the Budthornes. Then it will be a race between us and Miguel Bunol out of England, across the Channel and down into sunny Italy. But Bunol will seek to baffle and delay us.”

“How?”

“By keeping Zenas Gunn a prisoner somewhere, knowing we’ll not leave England until we have found and freed him.”

“Great tarantulas! I reckon you’re right, partner! You’re a whole lot long-headed, and you have tumbled to his game. Whatever can we do?”

“We must beat him at that game.”

“Elucidate how.”

“This runaway and smash-up was something not reckoned on by Bunol.”

“Certain not.”

“Durbin was left for dead.”

“No doubt of it.”

“If Durbin lives long enough to talk, we may induce him to tell us where Zenas Gunn is to be kept a prisoner.”

“I sure hope so.”

“Then it will be our business to waste no time in finding the professor and setting him free. After that the race for Italy will begin.”

Buckhart was greatly stirred up over the prospect.

“If we permit that Spaniard to get ahead of us, pard, I’ll certain feel like committing suicide some!” he cried. “You made a big mistake when you kept me from taking a crack at him with my gun as he went whooping away from the Robin Hood. If I had bored him – ”

“We should have been arrested and compelled to stand trial. It is true we might have been acquitted; but shooting a human being, even though it may be a dastardly dog like Bunol, is mighty bad business, and I don’t believe you wish, any more than I do, to stain your hands with human blood.”

“I punctured Rob MacLane at Lochleven.”

“But it was only a flesh wound in the shoulder, and the authorities, who seemed relieved and pleased over the death of the Strathern outlaw, decided that the cause of his death was not the bullet wound, but came from a broken neck received when he fell from Lochleven Castle.”

“All the same,” muttered the Texan, in a low tone, “I don’t opine he’d taken that fall if I hadn’t fired at him. I saw he was going to murder Aaron by flinging him over, and I didn’t falter any at all in shooting. My conscience hasn’t troubled me much.”

“But with Bunol mounted on a horse and trying to escape from us, the aspect of the case would have seemed different. At least, that is the way I looked at it.”

“I suppose you’re right, partner, for you’re right as a rule ten times out of ten; but I’m powerful afraid Bunol will get a start on us now.”

“We’ll do our best to baffle him at his game,” said Dick. “This accident that befell Luke Durbin may enable us to defeat the Spaniard.”

“At the same time, it’s mighty sure to put Durbin out of the running, even if he doesn’t die, for I judge he’s badly busted up, and he won’t be so frisky and troublesome in future.”

“But for Bunol, Durbin never would have been a hard man to check. Bunol is reckless to the point of madness. He has resolved to possess Nadia Budthorne and her money – ”

“But by the stars above us I swear he never shall!” cried the Texan fiercely.

When they reached Robin Hood’s Tavern once more, the boys, assisted by Swinton, lifted the injured man, who was still alive, and carried him inside, where he was placed on a bed.

“How far is it to the nearest doctor?” asked Dick. “This man is badly injured, and he must have medical treatment, if he does not die before a doctor can be brought.”

“It’s good ten miles,” said the landlord.

“Send a man for a physician without delay,” directed Dick. “I will pay all expenses.”

“It’s easy enough for you to say so,” returned the doubting keeper of the inn; “but I have not yet seen the color of your money, and my doors and windows have been smashed, the people in the house, including my wife, nearly frightened to death, and the reputation of the place ruined. What have I done that all this misfortune should be heaped upon me?”

“Would you see this man die for want of medical attention?”

“How do I know what will follow before morning? There may be further trouble here. Besides myself I have but two men about the place, and I must keep them to protect the ladies.”

“You will send a man for a doctor,” said Dick, sternly. “Here, I have money to pay. Tell me what your bill is for the broken door and window, and it will be settled – unless you make it exorbitant. Tell me how much it will cost to dispatch a man on a horse for the doctor, and I will pay that, too.”

At sight of the boy’s money the landlord immediately became quite humble and obliging. He started to ramble in his statement concerning the damage done, saying no money could pay him for the injury to the good name of the house; but Merriwell cut him short, asserting he would settle that matter after he had seen the man start to bring a physician.

Within a short time the hostler was dispatched on a good horse, with instructions not to return under any condition without the needed physician.

“I feel better about that now,” confessed Dick. “I wouldn’t see my worst enemy in the condition of Durbin without doing what I could for him.”

The injuries the man had received about the face were washed and dressed by Dick himself, while Durbin was given a little whisky, which seemed to revive him, although it was apparent to all that he might die within the hour.

Having done whatever he could to make the man comfortable, Merriwell sat down beside the bed and talked to him. At first it seemed that Durbin still remained unable to speak, but his wandering eyes gazed at Dick pathetically, as if he could not quite understand the boy.

“Durbin,” said Dick, “I’m sorry for you; but you must know that you brought this upon yourself, and you cannot blame any one else.”

The man moved his head the least bit from side to side.

“Your bones do not seem to be broken,” the boy went on; “but your condition indicates that you are seriously – probably fatally – injured. You may not live an hour; you may die within ten minutes. You had a hand in carrying off Zenas Gunn. It was Bunol’s plot, but it is likely you know that rascal’s plans. The least you can do now is to tell me where the professor has been taken. For the sake of your own conscience, at least, you should tell.”

The man was silent.

“You were deserted by your pals and left to die alone by the roadside. I have taken trouble to have you brought here, and I’ve sent for a doctor. In return for this will you not tell me the one thing I want to know? Where has Bunol taken Zenas Gunn?”

The injured man’s lips parted, an expression of great effort and distress came into his eyes, but the only sounds he uttered were a few painful gasps.

“Can’t you speak?” asked Dick.

Again that faint rocking motion of the head from side to side.

“I don’t opine he’ll ever speak again, pard,” whispered Buckhart, in Dick’s ear. “He’s done for, and we’re wasting time in trying to get anything out of him.”

“It’s folly to attempt to search the country blindly to-night,” said Dick. “Unless Durbin can give us a clue, we have nothing to work on.”

Brad looked desperate.

“All right,” he muttered. “You know best, partner. I opine I’d better trust the whole thing to you.”

“Give me that whisky, Mr. Swinton,” requested Dick.

The liquor had been weakened with water in a cup, and the boy again held this out to Durbin’s lips. A little of the stuff passed into the man’s mouth, and he swallowed it with great difficulty.

“Now,” once more urged Dick, “try to tell me where they have taken Professor Gunn.”

The man’s lips moved again. Dick bent low over him, holding his ear down to listen, but he could catch no word, and the fear that Durbin would die without speaking grew upon him.

Looking straight into the pathetic eyes of the injured man, Dick said, in a tone of confidence and command:

“I will give you the power to speak. You shall speak! You can speak! Tell me at once where they have taken the professor.”

For a moment there was absolute silence in the room. Both Buckhart and Swinton watched, breathless and awed, feeling that in some singular manner the boy was transmitting some strength of his own to the man on the bed. They felt as if something like a miracle was about to take place.

Finally Durbin’s lips parted again, and, in a low yet perfectly distinct tone, he muttered three words:

“The – haunted – mill!”

CHAPTER XV. – THE HAUNTED MILL

A branch of the Meden runs through the northwestern portion of that region still known as Sherwood Forest. At one time all that country was covered with one great, dense forest, but now there are many pieces of woods and a great deal of cleared country, with beautiful cottages and winding roads.

In a little, wooded valley stands an old, deserted mill. The broken water wheel is still and covered with rank moss and slime. The mill has settled on one side until it threatens to topple into the little basin above the almost vanished dam. It seems to cling to the old-fashioned stone chimney in a pitiful way for support.

This is known as the “Haunted Mill of the Meden,” and tourists travel far to see it. Hundreds of artists have daubed its semblance on their canvases.

Years ago, it is said, the miller, crazed by solitude or something, murdered his beautiful daughter in the old mill and then committed suicide. The people of that region tell that the ghosts of both father and daughter visit the old mill nightly at the hour when the crime was committed, which was shortly after midnight.

The haunted mill stands about eight English miles from Robin Hood’s Tavern.

A cold moon had risen in the east, and it was near the hour when the ghosts of the old mill were supposed to walk.

At least half a mile from the mill three horsemen had halted. They were Dick Merriwell, Brad Buckhart, and Swinton, the keeper of Robin Hood’s Tavern.

Not only had the landlord’s demands been fully satisfied and appeased by Dick, but he had been induced by the payment of a liberal sum to guide the boys to the haunted mill.

“You can’t miss it,” he declared in a low tone. “It’s straight down this road in the wood yonder.”

“But aren’t you coming with us?” asked Brad.

“Ten pounds wouldn’t take me nearer the mill at this hour,” said the landlord. “I’ve kept my part of the agreement; I have guided you to it.”

“Let him remain here,” said Dick, “and take care of the horses. We’ll go alone, Brad. We must leave the horses, for we do not wish to give Bunol warning that we are coming, and he might hear the animals.”

“Mebbe that’s a right good idea,” nodded the Texan. “I don’t opine a man as scared as he is would be any good with us.”

So the horses were left with the landlord, who promised to remain and guard them until the boys returned.

“If you ever do return,” he added. “It seems to me as likely as not that I’ll never clap eyes on you again.”

“I hope you don’t think we’re going to run away?” exclaimed Dick.

“No, but I do think it likely you’ll run into plenty of trouble, considering the things those men did at my place. I don’t see why you do not wait until morning and gather a force to aid you. It’s the only sensible thing. What can two boys do against such ruffians!”

“We’re not the kind that waits a great deal,” said Buckhart. “I sure reckon you’ll find out what we can do, and the ruffians will find out, too.”

Both boys were armed. They lost no time in hastening along the road that led in to the dark woods which choked the little valley. It demanded plenty of courage for those two American lads to attempt such an undertaking in a strange country at such an hour, and under such circumstances; but Dick and Brad had the courage, and they did not falter.

The woods were dark and silent, and filled with many black shadows, although in spots moonlight sifted through the openings amid the trees.

Stepping cautiously and keeping constantly on the alert, the boys followed the winding road down into the valley, avoiding the patches of moonlight.

Finally a faint murmuring sound of water reached their ears. It came from the little stream that trickled over the broken dam.

A few moments later the boys saw the dark and forbidding outlines of the old mill. All about the mill reigned a stillness like death, broken only by the almost inaudible sound of trickling water.

“It sure doesn’t seem like there is much of anything doing here,” whispered Buckhart. “I hope we haven’t arrived too late, pard.”

“The only way to find out about that is to investigate,” returned Dick, in the same cautious tone.

They approached the mill, circling a last spot where the moonlight shone down through the trees.

True, their hearts were beating faster than usual in their bosoms, but they were fully as undaunted as when they had set out from Robin Hood’s Tavern.