CHAPTER III
AN OLD ENEMY TURNS UP
“That was certainly an odd dream,” said Dick, after a short pause. “I am sure I never want to meet Josiah Crabtree under such circumstances.”
“It was silly, Dick—I’d forget it if I was you.”
“And she never mentioned the man at any other time?”
“No. But I am certain she is glad he has left for parts unknown. I never, never, want to see him again,” and the girl shivered.
“Don’t be alarmed, Dora; I don’t think he will dare to show himself,” answered Dick, and on the sly gave her hand a tight squeeze. They were warmer friends than ever since Dick had rescued her from those who had abducted her.
The kite-flying was now in “full blast,” as Sam expressed it, and the boys had all they could do to keep the various lines from becoming tangled up. His own kite and Fred’s were side by side and for a long time it looked as if neither would mount above the other.
“Run her up, Fred! You can win if you try!” cried several of the cadets.
“Play out a bit more, Sam; you haven’t given your kite all the slack she wants,” said others. So the talk ran on, while each contestant did the best to make his kite mount higher. In the meantime the wind kept increasing in violence, making each kite pull harder than ever.
“It’s a dandy for flying,” panted Tom, who was holding his kite with all the strength he possessed. “Something must give way soon,” and something did give way. It was the string he was holding, and as it snapped he went over on his back in such a comical fashion that all, even to the girls, had to laugh.
“Torn! Tom! What a sight!” burst out Nellie Laning. “You should have brought a stronger cord.”
“If I had I’d a-gone up in the clouds,” answered Tom ruefully. “That’s the last of that kite, I suppose; if I—”
“The string has caught on Sam’s kite!” interrupted Grace Laning. “Oh, my! See both of them going up!”
“Now you can win, Sam!” laughed Dora. “Fred, your flying is nowhere now.”
“He didn’t calculate to fly one kite against two,” answered Fred. “Hold on, Sam, where are you going? The cliff is over in that direction!” he yelled suddenly.
“I—I know it!” came back the alarming answer. “But I can’t stop myself!”
“He can’t stop himself!” repeated Dora.
“Oh, stop him somebody, before he goes over the cliff!”
“Let go of the line!” shouted Dick. “Don’t go any closer to the cliff!”
“I—I can’t let go! The line is fast around my wrist!” gasped poor Sam. “Oh, dear, it’s cutting me like a knife!”
“He’s in a mess,” came from Frank. “If he isn’t careful he’ll go over the cliff, as sure as he’s born!”
“Throw yourself down!” went on Dick, and, leaving his kite in Hans Mueller’s care, he ran after his brother.
By this time Sam had gained a few bushes which grew but a dozen feet away from the edge of the cliff, that at this point was nearly forty feet in height. With his right hand held a painful prisoner, he clutched at the bushes with his left.
“I’ve got the bushes, but I can’t hold on long!” he panted, as Dick came close. “Help me, quick!”
Scarcely had the words left his mouth when the bushes came up by the roots and poor Sam fell over on his side. Then came another strong puff of wind, and he was dragged to the very edge of the rocky ledge!
“I’m going!” he screamed, when, making a mighty leap, Dick caught him by the foot.
“Catch the rock—anything!” cried the older brother. “If you don’t you’ll be killed!”
“Save me!” was all poor Sam could say. “Oh, Dick, don’t let me go over!”
“I’ll do my best, Sam,” was Dick’s answer, and he held on like grim death.
By this time half a dozen boys were running to the scene. Dora Stanhope followed, and as she came up she pulled a tiny penknife from her pocket.
“Can’t I cut the line with this?” she asked, timidly, as she pushed her way to Dick’s side.
“Yes, Yes; cut it!” moaned Sam. “Oh, my wrist is almost cut in two!”
Stooping low, Dora sawed away at the kite line, which was as taut as a string on a bass fiddle. Suddenly there was a loud snap and the cord parted. Sam and Dick fell back from the edge of the cliff, while the entangled kites soared away for parts unknown.
“Thank Heaven you cut the line, Dora!” said Dick, who was the first to recover from the excitement of the situation. He saw that Dom was trembling like a leaf, and he hastened to her support, but she pushed him away and pointed to Sam.
“Don’t mind me—I am all right, Dick,” she said. “Go care for poor Sam. See how his wrist is bleeding! Oh, how dreadful!”
“Here is my handkerchief; he had better bind it up with that,” said Grace Laning, as she offered the article.
“We’ll wash the wound first,” put in Frank, and raced off for some water. Soon he returned with his stiff hat full, and the cut on Sam’s wrist was tenderly washed by the Laning girls, who then bound it up with the skill of a hospital surgeon.
The kite-flying continued for the balance of the afternoon. But Sam and Dick had had enough of it, and, along with Tom, they took a stroll along the lake front with Dora Stanhope and Grace and Nellie. Of course both boys and girls talked a whole lot of nonsense, yet all enjoyed the walk very much.
“This is the spot where they abducted me,” shivered Dora, as they came to the old boathouse. “Oh, what a dreadful time that was, to be sure!”
“I don’t believe our enemies will bother you any more, Dora,” said Dick. “It’s not likely that old Crabtree Will try the same game twice; and Mumps has really turned over a new leaf and gone to work for a living.”
“Yes, I was glad to hear that, for I don’t believe he was such a bad fellow at heart. He was under Dan Baxter’s influence, just as—as—”
“As Josiah Crabtree tried to influence your mother,” whispered Dick, and Dora nodded slowly. “Well, let us forget it, and—My gracious!”
Dick stopped short, to stare in open-mouthed wonder at a small boat shooting down the lake at a distance of several hundred yards from the shore.
“What’s up?” came simultaneously from Tom and Sam.
“Don’t you see that fellow in the boat?” demanded Dick, in increased wonder.
“Of course we see him,” answered Tom.
“Don’t you recognize him?”
“No; he’s too far off,” came from Sam..
“It’s Dan Baxter!”
“Baxter!” cried Dora. “Oh, Dick!”
“Nonsense!” said Tom. “How could he be am here?”
“It does look a little like Baxter,” was Sam’s slow comment. “Yet it seems impossible that he could be here, as Tom says.”
“I say it’s Baxter,” affirmed Dick stoutly, “I’ll hail him and make sure.”
“Oh, don’t bring him over here!” interposed Dora, becoming alarmed.
“Don’t be alarmed—he shan’t hurt anybody, Dora.” Dick raised his voice. “Hi there, Baxter! What are you doing here?”
At first there was no reply, and the boy in the rowboat kept on pulling. But as Dick repeated his call, the rower threw up his oars.
“You mind your own business,” he growled. “Guess I can row on the lake if I want to.”
“It is Baxter, sure enough!” ejaculated Tom.
“The rascal! We ought to recapture him.”
“That’s the talk,” added Sam. “I wish my wrist wasn’t so sore—I’d go after him.”
“There’s a boat below here,” said Dick.
“Let’s put out in that.”
“He may—may shoot at you,” faltered Dora. “You know how wicked he can be at times.”
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p; “Indeed I do know,” answered Dick. “But he ought to be handed over to the authorities. It is a crime to let him go free.”
“Hi, Baxter. Come over here; we want to talk to you!” yelled Tom.
“Not much!” growled the former bully of Putnam Hall.
“You had better come,” said Sam. “If you don’t come we’ll bring you.”
“Hush, Sam, or you’ll make a mess of things!” cried Dick softly, but the warning came too late.
“Will you bring me back?” roared the bully. “Just try it on and see how I’ll fix you.”
“Come on for the boat,” said Tom. “We’ll show him he can’t scare us.”
He started off and Dick came after him. Sam was also about to follow, when his elder brother stopped him.
“You can’t do much with that sore wrist, Sam,” he said. “Better stay with the girls until we come back. You can watch events from the shore, and run for assistance, if it’s necessary.”
Sam demurred at first, but soon saw the wisdom of Dick’s reasoning and consented to remain behind.
By this time Tom had shoved out the rowboat Dick had mentioned—a neat craft belonging to a farmer living near. A pair of oars lay in a locker on the lake bank; and, securing these, Tom leaped on board of the craft, and soon Dick came after.
Dan Baxter had watched their movement with interest, which speedily gave way to alarm when he saw the other boat come out, and beheld Dick and Tom each take up an oar and begin to pull for all they could.
“I was a clam to come up here, when there is no real need for it,” he muttered. “Two to one, eh? Well, I reckon I can put up a pretty stiff fight if it comes to the worst.” Then he caught up his oars once more, and began to row down Cayuga Lake with all possible speed.
CHAPTER IV
THE CHASE ON THE LAKE
“He means to give us as much of a chase as possible,” remarked Tom, as he glanced over his shoulder. “If I remember rightly, Baxter was always a pretty fair oarsman.”
“Yes, that was the one thing he could do well,” returned Dick. “But we ought to be able to catch him, Tom.”
“We could if we had two pairs of oars. One pair can do just about so much and no more.”
“Nonsense! Now, both together, and put all your muscle into it,” and Dick set a stiff stroke that his brother followed with difficulty.
Baxter had been rowing down the lake, but as soon as he saw that he was being pursued he changed his course for the east shore. He was settled to his work, and for several minutes it was hard to tell whether he was holding his own or losing.
“Hurrah! we are catching up!” cried Dick, after pulling for five minutes. “Keep at it, Tom, and we’ll have him before he is half over.”
“Gosh, but it’s hot work!” came with a pant from Tom Rover. “He must be almost exhausted to row like that.”
“He knows what he has at stake. He sees the prison cell staring him in the face again. You’d do your best, too, if you were in his place.”
“I’m doing my best now, Dick. On we go!” and Tom renewed his exertions. Dick set a faster stroke than ever, having caught his second wind, and the rowboat flew over the calm surface of the lake like a thing of life.
“Keep off!” The cry came from Baxter, while he was still a hundred yards from the eastern shore. “Keep off, or it will be the worse for you!”
“We are not afraid of you, Baxter, and you ought to know it by this time,” answered Dick. “You may as well give in now as later on.”
“Give in! You must be crazy!”
“We are two to one, and you know what we have been able to do in the past.”
“Humph! I don’t intend to go to jug again, and that is all there is to it.”
“Maybe you can’t help yourself.”
“We’ll see about that. Are you—going to keep off or not?
“Don’t ask foolish a question.”
“You won’t keep off?”
“No.”
“If you don’t I—I’ll shoot you.”
As Dan Baxter spoke he stopped rowing and brought from a hip pocket a highly polished nickel-plated revolver.
“Do you see this?” he demanded, as he pointed the weapon toward the Rover boys.
Both Dick and Tom were taken aback at the sight of the weapon. But they had seen such arms before, and had faced them, consequently they were not as greatly alarmed as they right otherwise have been. They knew, too, that Dan Baxter was a notoriously bad shot.
“Put that up, Baxter,” said Dick calmly. “It may only get you into deeper trouble.”
“I don’t care!” said the bully recklessly. “I’m not going back to jail and that is all there, is to it!”
“You won’t dare to shoot at us, and you know it,” put in Tom, as the two boats drifted closer together.
“I will, and don’t you fool yourself on it.”
“Drop those oars or I’ll fire, as sure as my name is Dan Baxter,” and the revolver, which had been partly lowered, was raised a second time.
It must be confessed that Dick and Tom were much disconcerted. The two rowboats were now less than fifty feet apart, and any kind of a shot from the weapon was likely to prove more or less dangerous. Baxter’s eyes gleamed with the hatred of an angry snake ready to strike.
“You think you are smart, you Rover boys,” said the bully, after an awkward pause all around. “You think you did a big thing in rescuing Dom Stanhope and in putting me and my father and Buddy Girk in prison. But let me tell you that this game hasn’t come to an end yet, and some day we intend to square accounts.”
“There is no use in wasting breath in this fashion, Baxter,” returned Dick, as calmly as he could. “We are two to one, and the best thing to do is for you to submit. If you fire on us, we may do a little shooting on our own account.”
“Humph! Do you imagine you can scare me in that fashion? You haven’t any pistol, and I know it. If you had you would have drawn the weapon long ago.”
At this Dick bit his lip. “Don’t be too sure,” he said steadily, as the boats drifted still closer together. “The minute I heard you had escaped from jail I went and bought a pistol in Cedarville.” This was the strict truth, but Dick did not add that the weapon lay at that moment safe in the bottom of his trunk at the Hall.
“Got afraid I’d come around, eh?”
“I knew there was nothing like becoming prepared. Now will you—”
Dick did not have time to finish, for, lowering the front end of the pistol, Dan Baxter pulled the trigger twice and two reports rang out in quick succession. One bullet buried itself in the seat beside Tom, while the second plowed its way through the bottom, near the stern.
“You villain!” cried Dick, and in his excitement hurled his oar at Dan Baxter, hitting the fellow across the face with such force that the bully’s nose began to bleed. The shock made Baxter lose his hold on the pistol and it went over the side of his craft and sank immediately to the bottom of the lake.
“My, but that was a close shave!” muttered Tom, as he gazed at the hole through the seat. “A little closer and I would have got it in the stomach.”
A yell now came from Sam, and a shriek from the girls, all of whom had heard the pistol shots. They were too far away to see the result of the shooting and feared both Tom and Dick had been killed or wounded.
As quickly as he could recover from the blow of the oar, Dan Baxter picked up his own blades, and without paying attention to the blood which was flowing from his nose, began once again to pull for the shore.
“Come on, his pistol is gone!” shouted Dick, and then his face fell. “Confound it, I’ve thrown away my oar! There it goes!” And he pointed some distance to their left.
“That isn’t the worst of it!” groaned Tom. “Look at that hole in the bottom, made by that pistol shot. The water
is coming in just as fast as it can.”
There was small need to call attention to it, for the water in the bottom of the boat was already an inch deep. Dick started in perplexity, then, struck by a sudden idea, drew a lead pencil from his pocket and rammed it into the opening. It fitted very well, and the water ceased, to come in.
“Now we’ll have to bail out and pick up that other oar,” said Tom. “It was foolish to throw it away, Dick.”
“I don’t know about that. It deprived Baxter of his pistol. Paddle over, and I’ll pick it up.” Tom did so, and the blade was speedily recovered.
But Dan Baxter had made good use of the precious moments lost by the Rover boys, and hardly were the latter into shape for rowing once more than they saw the bully beach his craft and leap out on the shore. “Good-by to you!” he cried mockingly. “I told you that you couldn’t catch me. The next time we meet I’ll make you sorry that you ever followed me,” and he started to run off with all possible speed.
Tom and Dick were too chagrined to answer him, and pulled forward to the shore in silence. They ran the craft into some bushes and tied up, and then started after Baxter, who was now making for the woods south of the village of Nelson.
When the highway skirting this portion of Cayuga Lake was gained Dan Baxter was a good five hundred feet ahead of them. A turn in the road soon hid him from view. Gaining the bend they discovered that he had disappeared from view altogether.
“He has taken to the woods,” sighed Dick.
“If that is so we may as well give the hunt up,” answered his brother. “It would be worse than looking for a pin in a haystack, for we wouldn’t know what direction he had taken.”
“I wish I had a bloodhound with which to trail him. He ought to be run down, Tom.”
“Well, let us notify some of the people living near and see what can be done.”
They ran on to the spot where they supposed Baxter had left the highway. On both sides were dense thickets of cedars with heavy underbrush. All in all, the locality formed an ideal hiding place.
Night was coming on by the time they gained the nearest farmhouse. Here they found three men, to whom they explained the situation. All of the men smiled grimly.
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