Delphi Collected Works of Edgar Rice Burroughs (Illustrated) (Series Four Book 26)

by Edgar Rice Burroughs

  Bridge and the boy realized that she was not talking to them — that for the moment she had lost sight of their presence — she was talking to that father whose heart would be breaking with the breaking of the new day, trying to convince him that his little girl had done no wrong.

  Again she sat up, and when she spoke there was no tremor in her voice.

  “I may die,” she said. “I want to die. I do not see how I can go on living after last night; but if I do die I want my father to know that I had nothing to do with it and that they tried to kill me because I wouldn’t promise to keep still. It was the little one who murdered him — the one they called ‘Jimmie’ and ‘The Oskaloosa Kid.’ The big one drove the car — his name was ‘Terry.’ After they killed him I tried to jump out — I had been sitting in front with Terry — and then they dragged me over into the tonneau and later — the Oskaloosa Kid tried to kill me too, and threw me out.”

  Bridge heard the boy at his side gulp. The girl went on.

  “To-morrow you will know about the murder — everyone will know about it; and I will be missed; and there will be people who saw me in the car with them, for someone must have seen me. Oh, I can’t face it! I want to die. I will die! I come of a good family. My father is a prominent man. I can’t go back and stand the disgrace and see him suffer, as he will suffer, for I was all he had — his only child. I can’t bear to tell you my name — you will know it soon enough — but please find some way to let my father know all that I have told you — I swear that it is the truth — by the memory of my dead mother, I swear it!”

  Bridge laid a hand upon the girl’s shoulder. “If you are telling us the truth,” he said, “you have only a silly escapade with strange men upon your conscience. You must not talk of dying now — your duty is to your father. If you take your own life it will be a tacit admission of guilt and will only serve to double the burden of sorrow and ignominy which your father is bound to feel when this thing becomes public, as it certainly must if a murder has been done. The only way in which you can atone for your error is to go back and face the consequences with him — do not throw it all upon him; that would be cowardly.”

  The girl did not reply; but that the man’s words had impressed her seemed evident. For a while each was occupied with his own thoughts; which were presently disturbed by the sound of footsteps upon the floor below — the muffled scraping of many feet followed a moment later by an exclamation and an oath, the words coming distinctly through the loose and splintered flooring.

  “Pipe the stiff,” exclaimed a voice which The Oskaloosa Kid recognized immediately as that of Soup Face.

  “The Kid musta croaked him,” said another.

  A laugh followed this evidently witty sally.

  “The guy probably lamped the swag an’ died of heart failure,” suggested another.

  The men were still laughing when the sound of a clanking chain echoed dismally from the cellar. Instantly silence fell upon the newcomers upon the first floor, followed by a— “Wotinel’s that?” Two of the men had approached the staircase and started to ascend it. Slowly the uncanny clanking drew closer to the first floor. The girl on the bed turned toward Bridge.

  “What is it?” she gasped.

  “We don’t know,” replied the man. “It followed us up here, or rather it chased us up; and then went down again just before you regained consciousness. I imagine we shall hear some interesting developments from below.”

  “It’s The Sky Pilot and his gang,” whispered The Oskaloosa Kid.

  “It’s The Oskaloosa Kid,” came a voice from below.

  “But wot was that light upstairs then?” queried another.

  “An’ wot croaked this guy here?” asked a third. “It wasn’t nothin’ nice — did you get the expression on his mug an’ the red foam on his lips? I tell youse there’s something in this house beside human bein’s. I know the joint — it’s hanted — they’s spooks in it. Gawd! there it is now,” as the clanking rose to the head of the cellar stairs; and those above heard a sudden rush of footsteps as the men broke for the open air — all but the two upon the stairway. They had remained too long and now, their retreat cut off, they scrambled, cursing and screaming, to the second floor.

  Along the hallway they rushed to the closed door at the end — the door of the room in which the three listened breathlessly — hurling themselves against it in violent effort to gain admission.

  “Who are you and what do you want?” cried Bridge.

  “Let us in! Let us in!” screamed two voices. “Fer God’s sake let us in. Can’t you hear IT? It’ll be comin’ up here in a minute.”

  The sound of the dragging chain could be heard at intervals upon the floor below. It seemed to the tense listeners above to pause beside the dead man as though hovering in gloating exultation above its gruesome prey and then it moved again, this time toward the stairway where they all heard it ascending with a creepy slowness which wrought more terribly upon tense nerves than would a sudden rush.

  “The mills of the Gods grind slowly,” quoted Bridge.

  “Oh, don’t!” pleaded The Oskaloosa Kid.

  “Let us in,” screamed the men without. “Fer the luv o’ Mike have a heart! Don’t leave us out here! IT’s comin’! IT’s comin’!”

  “Oh, let the poor things in,” pleaded the girl on the bed. She was, herself, trembling with terror.

  “No funny business, now, if I let you in,” commanded Bridge.

  “On the square,” came the quick and earnest reply.

  The THING had reached the head of the stairs when Bridge dragged the bed aside and drew the bolt. Instantly two figures hurled themselves into the room but turned immediately to help Bridge resecure the doorway.

  Just as it had done before, when Bridge and The Oskaloosa Kid had taken refuge there with the girl, the THING moved down the hallway to the closed door. The dragging chain marked each foot of its advance. If it made other sounds they were drowned by the clanking of the links over the time roughened flooring.

  Within the room the five were frozen into utter silence, and beyond the door an equal quiet prevailed for a long minute; then a great force made the door creak and a weird scratching sounded high up upon the old fashioned panelling. Bridge heard a smothered gasp from the boy beside him, followed instantly by a flash of flame and the crack of a small caliber automatic; The Oskaloosa Kid had fired through the door.

  Bridge seized the boy’s arm and wrenched the weapon from him. “Be careful!” he cried. “You’ll hurt someone. You didn’t miss the girl much that time — she’s on the bed right in front of the door.”

  The Oskaloosa Kid pressed closer to the man as though he sought protection from the unknown menace without. The girl sprang from the bed and crossed to the opposite side of the room. A flash of lightning illuminated the chamber for an instant and the roof of the verandah without. The girl noted the latter and the open window.

  “Look!” she cried. “Suppose it went out of another window upon this porch. It could get us so easily that way!”

  “Shut up, you fool!” whispered one of the two newcomers. “It might hear you.” The girl subsided into silence.

  There was no sound from the hallway.

  “I reckon you croaked IT,” suggested the second newcomer, hopefully; but, as though the THING without had heard and understood, the clanking of the chain recommenced at once; but now it was retreating along the hallway, and soon they heard it descending the stairs.

  Sighs of relief escaped more than a single pair of lips. “IT didn’t hear me,” whispered the girl.

  Bridge laughed. “We’re a nice lot of babies seeing things at night,” he scoffed.

  “If you’re so nervy why don’t you go down an’ see wot it is?” asked one of the late arrivals.

  “I believe I shall,” replied Bridge and pulled the bed away from the door.

  Instantly a chorus of protests arose, the girl and The Oskaloosa Kid being most insistent. What was the use? What good cou
ld he accomplish? It might be nothing; yet on the other hand what had brought death so horribly to the cold clay on the floor below? At last their pleas prevailed and Bridge replaced the bed before the door.

  For two hours the five sat about the room waiting for daylight. There could be no sleep for any of them. Occasionally they spoke, usually advancing and refuting suggestions as to the identity of the nocturnal prowler below-stairs. The THING seemed to have retreated again to the cellar, leaving the upper floor to the five strangely assorted prisoners and the first floor to the dead man.

  During the brief intervals of conversation the girl repeated snatches of her story and once she mentioned The Oskaloosa Kid as the murderer of the unnamed victim. The two men who had come last pricked up their ears at this and Bridge felt the boy’s hand just touch his arm as though in mute appeal for belief and protection. The man half smiled.

  “We seen The Oskaloosa Kid this evenin’,” volunteered one of the newcomers.

  “You did?” exclaimed the girl. “Where?”

  “He’d just pulled off a job in Oakdale an’ had his pockets bulgin’ wid sparklers an’ kale. We was follerin’ him an’ when we seen your light up here we t’ought it was him.”

  The Oskaloosa Kid shrank closer to Bridge. At last he recognized the voice of the speaker. While he had known that the two were of The Sky Pilot’s band he had not been sure of the identity of either; but now it was borne in upon him that at least one of them was the last person on earth he cared to be cooped up in a small, unlighted room with, and a moment later when one of the two rolled a ‘smoke’ and lighted it he saw in the flare of the flame the features of both Dopey Charlie and The General. The Oskaloosa Kid gasped once more for the thousandth time that night.

  It had been Dopey Charlie who lighted the cigaret and in the brief illumination his friend The General had grasped the opportunity to scan the features of the other members of the party. Schooled by long years of repression he betrayed none of the surprise or elation he felt when he recognized the features of The Oskaloosa Kid.

  If The General was elated The Oskaloosa Kid was at once relieved and terrified. Relieved by ocular proof that he was not a murderer and terrified by the immediate presence of the two who had sought his life.

  His cigaret drawing well Dopey Charlie resumed: “This Oskaloosa Kid’s a bad actor,” he volunteered. “The little shrimp tried to croak me; but he only creased my ribs. I’d like to lay my mits on him. I’ll bet there won’t be no more Oskaloosa Kid when I get done wit him.”

  The boy drew Bridge’s ear down toward his own lips. “Let’s go,” he said. “I don’t hear anything more downstairs, or maybe we could get out on this roof and slide down the porch pillars.”

  Bridge laid a strong, warm hand on the small, cold one of his new friend.

  “Don’t worry, Kid,” he said. “I’m for you.”

  The two other men turned quickly in the direction of the speaker.

  “Is de Kid here?” asked Dopey Charlie.

  “He is, my degenerate friend,” replied Bridge; “and furthermore he’s going to stay here and be perfectly safe. Do you grasp me?”

  “Who are you?” asked The General.

  “That is a long story,” replied Bridge; “but if you chance to recall Dink and Crumb you may also be able to visualize one Billy Burke and Billy Byrne and his side partner, Bridge. Yes? Well, I am the side partner.”

  Before the yeggman could make reply the girl spoke up quickly. “This man cannot be The Oskaloosa Kid,” she said. “It was The Oskaloosa Kid who threw me from the car.”

  “How do you know he ain’t?” queried The General. “Youse was knocked out when these guys picks you up. It’s so dark in here you couldn’t reco’nize no one. How do you know this here bird ain’t The Oskaloosa Kid, eh?”

  “I have heard both these men speak,” replied the girl; “their voices were not those of any men I have known. If one of them is The Oskaloosa Kid then there must be two men called that. Strike a match and you will see that you are mistaken.”

  The General fumbled in an inside pocket for a package of matches carefully wrapped against possible damage by rain. Presently he struck one and held the light in the direction of The Kid’s face while he and the girl and Dopey Charlie leaned forward to scrutinize the youth’s features.

  “It’s him all right,” said Dopey Charlie.

  “You bet it is,” seconded The General.

  “Why he’s only a boy,” ejaculated the girl. “The one who threw me from the machine was a man.”

  “Well, this one said he was The Oskaloosa Kid,” persisted The General.

  “An’ he shot me up,” growled Dopey Charlie.

  “It’s too bad he didn’t kill you,” remarked Bridge pleasantly. “You’re a thief and probably a murderer into the bargain — you tried to kill this boy just before he shot you.”

  “Well wot’s he?” demanded Dopey Charlie. “He’s a thief — he said he was — look in his pockets — they’re crammed wid swag, an’ he’s a gun-man, too, or he wouldn’t be packin’ a gat. I guess he ain’t got nothin’ on me.”

  The darkness hid the scarlet flush which mounted to the boy’s cheeks — so hot that he thought it must surely glow redly through the night. He waited in dumb misery for Bridge to demand the proof of his guilt. Earlier in the evening he had flaunted the evidence of his crime in the faces of the six hobos; but now he suddenly felt a great shame that his new found friend should believe him a house-breaker.

  But Bridge did not ask for any substantiation of Charlie’s charges, he merely warned the two yeggmen that they would have to leave the boy alone and in the morning, when the storm had passed and daylight had lessened the unknown danger which lurked below-stairs, betake themselves upon their way.

  “And while we’re here together in this room you two must sit over near the window,” he concluded. “You’ve tried to kill the boy once to-night; but you’re not going to try it again — I’m taking care of him now.”

  “You gotta crust, bo,” observed Dopey Charlie, belligerently. “I guess me an’ The General’ll sit where we damn please, an’ youse can take it from me on the side that we’re goin’ to have ours out of The Kid’s haul. If you tink you’re goin’ to cop the whole cheese you got another tink comin’.”

  “You are banking,” replied Bridge, “on the well known fact that I never carry a gun; but you fail to perceive, owing to the Stygian gloom which surrounds us, that I have the Kid’s automatic in my gun hand and that the business end of it is carefully aiming in your direction.”

  “Cheese it,” The General advised his companion; and the two removed themselves to the opposite side of the apartment, where they whispered, grumblingly, to one another.

  The girl, the boy, and Bridge waited as patiently as they could for the coming of the dawn, talking of the events of the night and planning against the future. Bridge advised the girl to return at once to her father; but this she resolutely refused to do, admitting with utmost candor that she lacked the courage to face her friends even though her father might still believe in her.

  The youth begged that he might accompany Bridge upon the road, pleading that his mother was dead and that he could not return home after his escapade. And Bridge could not find it in his heart to refuse him, for the man realized that the boyish waif possessed a subtile attraction, as forceful as it was inexplicable. Not since he had followed the open road in company with Billy Byrne had Bridge met one with whom he might care to ‘Pal’ before The Kid crossed his path on the dark and storm swept pike south of Oakdale.

  In Byrne, mucker, pugilist, and MAN, Bridge had found a physical and moral counterpart of himself, for the slender Bridge was muscled as a Greek god, while the stocky Byrne, metamorphosed by the fire of a woman’s love, possessed all the chivalry of the care free tramp whose vagabondage had never succeeded in submerging the evidences of his cultural birthright.

  In the youth Bridge found an intellectual equal with the added charm of
a physical dependent. The man did not attempt to fathom the evident appeal of the other’s tacitly acknowledged cowardice; he merely knew that he would not have had the youth otherwise if he could have changed him. Ordinarily he accepted male cowardice with the resignation of surfeited disgust; but in the case of The Oskaloosa Kid he realized a certain artless charm which but tended to strengthen his liking for the youth, so brazen and unaffected was the boy’s admission of his terror of both the real and the unreal menaces of this night of horror.

  That the girl also was well bred was quite evident to Bridge, while both the girl and the youth realized the refinement of the strange companion and protector which Fate had ordered for them, while they also saw in one another social counterparts of themselves. Thus, as the night dragged its slow course, the three came to trust each other more entirely and to speculate upon the strange train of circumstances which had brought them thus remarkably together — the thief, the murderer’s accomplice, and the vagabond.

  It was during a period of thoughtful silence when the night was darkest just before the dawn and the rain had settled to a dismal drizzle unrelieved by lightning or by thunder that the five occupants of the room were suddenly startled by a strange pattering sound from the floor below. It was as the questioning fall of a child’s feet upon the uncarpeted boards in the room beneath them. Frozen to silent rigidity, the five sat straining every faculty to catch the minutest sound from the black void where the dead man lay, and as they listened there came up to them, mingled with the inexplicable footsteps, the hollow reverberation from the dank cellar — the hideous dragging of the chain behind the nameless horror which had haunted them through the interminable eons of the ghastly night.

  Up, up, up it came toward the first floor. The pattering of the feet ceased. The clanking rose until the five heard the scraping of the chain against the door frame at the head of the cellar stairs. They heard it pass across the floor toward the center of the room and then, loud and piercing, there rang out against the silence of the awful night a woman’s shriek.