He exhibited a large stone in his right hand.
"Let's get him!" exclaimed Bruce.
He leaped to his feet and rushed to the car. He came back with two wrenches and a jack handle. He passed a wrench to the farmer. Harry, now well recovered, accepted the other. Flourishing the jack handle, Bruce started through the underbrush, with the others closely following.
The creature had plowed a track through the bushes. It was easy for them to follow the course, which led to a path. Running along, away from the road, the three men continued their pursuit.
In a few hundred yards they came to a clearing. A small house stood there - a one-story building, not much better than a cabin. A man was watching from the rude porch. He held a shotgun over one arm, and he gazed narrowly at the approaching group.
Bruce Duncan stopped in front of him. The man was dressed in outing clothes, but he did not appear to be a woodsman. Instead, he looked like some one from the city. His face was rather hardened, and he did not appear friendly.
"Well?" questioned the man, as though demanding an explanation.
"Did you see anything of a wild man?" asked Vincent, joining Bruce Duncan. "That's about the best way to describe the fellow we're after."
"You look rather wild yourselves," observed the man in a gruff voice. "You're on private property, too.
What's the idea of coming in here this way?"
"It's the wild man," explained Duncan angrily. "He came this way. You must have seen him."
The man on the porch thrust his chin forward.
"You're telling me what I've seen?" he asked in a significant voice. "Listen, young fellow. You're a trespasser. Get that? Move along before I plug you."
He raised the shotgun in a threatening manner.
The farmer intervened.
"Just forget that shotgun, stranger," he said. "This ain't your property. I live around here. I know."
"I'm renting it," declared the man on the porch.
"From whom? I'll bet you're squatting here. This is Seth Wilkinson's property. Seth's a friend of mine.
Lives in Harrisburg. If you don't want trespassers, where's your notice?"
"Over on that tree."
"That's Seth Wilkinson's sign. Not yours. What's more, that shotgun business ain't used around these parts no more. If you want a quick jury trial with twelve men all agin' you, just plug one of us. You got just two barrels there. You ain't agoin' to hit all three."
He swung the wrench in short circles.
"Look!" exclaimed Harry. "See? In the window!"
They turned toward the cabin window, but saw nothing.
"It's gone," asserted Harry. "It's the man that was in the road. He's there in the house. He half killed me.
I'm going to get him."
"Wait a minute." The man on the porch was speaking. "I guess I've made a mistake with you fellows. I've got the wild man here, boys. He isn't a wild man, though. He's just eccentric. Did he give you trouble?"
"Blamed right he did," ejaculated the farmer. "He jumped out of the bushes and landed on me in the road.
These gentlemen came along in their car just in time to save me."
"That makes it different." The man on the porch laid the shotgun aside. "Let me explain matters. This man I have here is half-witted. He's strong, but he's mild ordinarily. I've got charge of him. I know how to handle him, and he's just like a child ordinarily. I brought him here because we figured that if he was kept off by himself for a while, he would improve.
"I am very sorry for what has happened," the man went on smoothly. "I really mean that. I can promise you that it will not happen again. I was ignorant of what actually occurred. This is a valuable lesson for me."
Bruce Duncan's mind was working rapidly. The man's story was a good one and plausible. It was evident that his ape-faced charge had escaped by accident. There were even more reasons than the one he had explained that would make him desirous of keeping the brute under cover.
For Duncan knew that the ape-man had been used for a criminal purpose on at least one occasion. He and Vincent had found the clue they sought - the fact that linked the present with that first event of a month ago.
The man on the porch could not have recognized Duncan. For it was the ape-man who had entered his room, and Bruce doubted that the creature had sufficient intelligence to tell his master who Bruce Duncan was.
Bruce glanced at Harry. He realized that his friend had not yet caught the significance of their discovery.
The best plan was to leave and go back toward the town. On the way he could tell everything to Vincent.
They were nearing the evidence they sought. But who was the man on the porch? Was he merely a person of minor importance who kept the apelike creature under control? Or was he the one behind the sequence of crime?
It was this perplexity that caused Bruce Duncan to remain staring at the fellow after his two companions had turned toward the path. The stranger had bidden them a cordial farewell, thanking them for informing him of the attack made by his ward.
The man was laughing in a friendly manner as he waved good-by. As Harry and the farmer turned away, his lips closed together.
Upon his face appeared a strange, peculiar smile.
On one side his lips seemed to curl upward, on the other they turned downward. It gave his mouth a distorted expression - one that the viewer would not soon forget.
Bruce Duncan turned and hurried after his companions. He could scarcely restrain his exultation.
For the smile had betrayed the identity of the man who lived in the cabin. There was only one way to describe that smile. The mouth that had formed it had twisted lips.
CHAPTER XXI. PLANS ARE ARRANGED
WHEN Vincent, Duncan and the farmer had reached the road, Harry turned the car back toward the Mountain Pike. They rode along the dirt road, taking the farmer with them. He said good-by at the pike, and the two young men were alone as Harry swung the coupe onto the highway that led back to Culbertville.
It was then that Bruce Duncan made his startling revelations to his astonished companion.
"The ape-man!" exclaimed Harry when he had heard the story. "The same beast that entered your room!
And the fellow on the porch was Chefano! Bruce, we've found what we wanted."
"Right, Harry. But what shall we do next?"
Harry considered.
"It won't do to go back there right away," he said. "I think our best plan is to head for the town. When we're there I think we can make plans."
"Are you going to report to New York?"
"Not until to-night. That will be soon enough. We may discover more in the meantime."
"Still, we ought to be on the ground. Our plan now is to watch Chefano. We must do it carefully."
"No question about that, Bruce. The ape-faced wild man is dangerous. It's not wise to take chances."
"That's not the most important reason. We must not let Chefano suspect that we are present. If he has any idea that we are interested in his plans, he will probably make changes."
"You are right, Bruce. The best thing we can do to start is to make inquiries in the village. We will find out how the land lies."
"Be careful. Chefano may have some one working with him, on the lookout for strangers."
"I don't think so, Bruce. But you leave it to me. I have a plan already forming. Let me do the questioning; you agree with anything I say. I won't excite the least suspicion."
They were approaching the town. When they arrived near the station, Vincent parked the car. With Duncan following, he strolled up to a group of idlers.
"Howdy," said one of the men.
"Good morning," replied Harry. "Nice country around here."
"Plenty say that."
"How's the fishing?"
"Good - if you know the right places."
The other men in the group laughed good-naturedly.
"My friend and I are looking for a place to spend a few weeks. Thought maybe we cou
ld rent a little shack in the woods. Do you know of any up along the Mountain Pike?"
"There's quite a few up that way," replied one of the other idlers. "All depends upon how far away from town you want to be."
"Seth Wilkinson has a couple of old cabins in the woods," remarked another man. "They're pretty old ones, I reckon. Wouldn't be much good in wet weather."
"Try old Josh Stevens," suggested the first man. "He's got a regular house - small but good - about a half mile off the pike. There ain't been any one living there for a long time."
"Where does his place lie?" questioned Harry. "Is it very far from town?"
"About four miles out," said the former speaker. "When you begin to get up in the hills, you run into Wilkinson's land. It comes down to the pike. Then there's a small road leading in to the right. That's the road to the house. But you don't need to go out there to find out more about it. Stevens has a store across the street there. You can see him now if you want."
"How does it sound to you?" Vincent asked Duncan.
"All right," answered his companion.
THEY found Josh Stevens in his store. He was anxious to rent the house. Once started, he began a long description of it. With the aid of a few questions, Harry Vincent gained an excellent fund of information. It was a good house, better than the two old cabins owned by Seth Wilkinson. They were nothing more than shacks. They could be seen by walking through the woods below the Stevens house. Neither of the cabins was occupied; Wilkinson was away, and had neglected them. Josh Stevens invited the two visitors to make the comparison for themselves.
The outcome of the discussion was the payment of sixteen dollars - a month's rent in advance - by Harry.
The mountain bus was at the station when the young men came out of Josh Stevens's store. Harry went over and talked with the driver.
"Where do you stop along the Mountain Pike?" he inquired. "We're going to stay up that direction. We may have to use the bus occasionally."
"I stop anywhere a passenger wants to get off. You can't ask much better service than that."
"When is the last bus?"
"Leaves here at eleven thirty, after the last train comes in from Harrisburg. We wait if the train's late. It's usually on time."
"Do you get many passengers that late?" asked Bruce casually.
"Quite a few that go through to the end of the route. Not many that get off before that."
"Mostly regular passengers, I suppose," said Harry.
"Generally. I know most of them on that last trip. Guess I haven't had a stranger for a week - not since the time I left the fellow off at the Ridge Road. Funny thing; I hadn't made that stop in months. Now it seems like some new rider gets off there every week, regular."
Duncan glanced significantly at Vincent. The Ridge Road was the one on which they had encountered the ape-man.
"Looks like we have everything," Bruce told Harry as they walked across the street. "The old cabin must be the meeting place. The letters that were received must have given the directions to go there."
"The time of the meeting is evidently midnight," replied Harry. "With the bus leaving at eleven thirty, any one could arrive at the cabin before twelve."
"How about your report?"
Harry smiled at the question.
"To-night is soon enough," he replied. "It's time for lunch now."
They reached the Stevens house late in the afternoon. The place was well-secluded in the thick woods; an ideal spot to remain undiscovered. The house contained old furniture; they arranged the beds with sheets and blankets that they had bought at Stevens's store.
"What next?" asked Bruce.
"Come with me," replied Harry.
He went to the back of the coupe and opened it. Within was a large box which Harry unlocked. Lifting the lid and taking out an inner covering, he revealed a complete radio apparatus - the most compact mechanism that Duncan had ever seen.
"Know anything about wireless telegraphy?" questioned Harry.
"Not much," admitted his companion. "I studied the International code and can send messages slowly, but I never went in for radio very strongly."
"I know a good bit about it?" said Harry. "This is one of the simplest sending sets ever devised. It has remarkable mechanical improvements. You can help me put up the aerial. I'll do the rest."
The two men completed the work at dusk. The night was cool at this altitude. They sat before a fire in the main room on the first floor, with the sending equipment and the receiving set close by.
"We'll cook some dinner," said Harry. "Then we can make our last investigation. After that we send out information. Fellows said that the Monday night report would be most important."
Duncan was enthused while they ate. He had wondered why Vincent had been so indifferent about making his report. He had imagined that out here they would be far away from means of communication, and that it would be necessary to go into the village to find a telephone. Instead, they were in direct contact with headquarters.
Harry had pulled down the shades at dark. After they had finished eating, he extinguished the oil lamps.
He went out on the porch. Bruce followed. They found a path in the darkness. It led toward Seth Wilkinson's property.
They felt their way for a considerable distance. Then Harry clutched his companion's arm.
"Look," he whispered. "A light through the woods."
The gleam was from the cabin they had visited during the morning. As they arrived closer, they saw that the light came from a crack at the bottom of a rear window where the shade had not been fully drawn.
"No use going any farther," whispered Harry. "We know who is inside; that's enough. We mustn't let Chefano have any suspicion whatever."
They listened a while in the hope that some sound might come from the shack. But all remained silent.
The companions carefully retraced their footsteps and found their own abode.
Seated by the fire, Harry clicked his first message, tapping the key slowly while he referred to a code that lay before him. He waited a few minutes, then repeated the message he had sent.
A half hour passed while Harry waited with the ear phones on his head. Then his hand became busy with a pencil and paper. He was receiving a reply.
He read the message to Bruce Duncan:
"Watch the house to-morrow night. When the fourth man arrives, be ready to act. Protect him at any cost. Meanwhile, give no sign of your presence."
Harry sent a brief response stating that the message had been received. He opened a suitcase that he had brought from the car. He took two automatics and gave one to Bruce Duncan. He repeated the operation with two flashlights that were in the bag. Then he bolted the door of the house.
"We'll take no chances to-night," he said. "But I am sure that we are safe here. Our real task is tomorrow
- at midnight. I gave full details of our location in my first message, and also described the cabin where Chefano awaits the next victim. We will be ready when the time arrives."
CHAPTER XXII. A SCHEME FOR VENGEANCE
ISAAC COFFRAN sat in his upstairs room and tapped methodically on the arm of his chair. Before him stood Pedro. The big Mexican wore a bandage on his head.
"Pedro," said the old man in a sharp voice, "I am thinking of something that will please you."
The Mexican did not reply. Isaac Coffran continued as though he had not expected a response.
"I like to talk to you, Pedro. You seldom say anything in return. That is because you do not think for yourself. You do just what you are told to do. You are the type of man that is useful."
The Mexican grinned.
"That's better," said the old man. "You are becoming interested. A few nights ago, Pedro, you made a great mistake. You left a window loose in the cellar. I do not like you to make mistakes. You have suffered for it. That is why you are wearing the bandage on your head. I am going to give you a chance to make amends for your mistake."
The grin on the Mex
ican's face broadened until it became an ugly leer.
"This house has been watched," resumed Isaac Coffran. "When young Duncan came in he was seen. He was rescued. He was the only man who has ever escaped me. He will be caught later. But it is more important that we capture the man who caused the trouble. Do you agree with me, Pedro?"
The big Mexican nodded.
"The man we want is called The Shadow," said Isaac Coffran. "He is clever. Like all clever men, he is not always wise. By watching this house he has learned nothing of my plans. For he is still watching."
The old man went to the window and raised a tiny section of the iron shutter. Through it he peered into the street below.
"I cannot see him, Pedro," he said, "yet I know that he is watching. There are shadows in the street, and among them is The Shadow. Let him watch. He will not enter again. We have gone over every place carefully. While he is here watching, he cannot be elsewhere. That is to my advantage. He will learn nothing here. I am content while he stays.
"But he may go away. Perhaps he will not come here to-morrow night. That would be unfortunate, Pedro. For while he is outside, across the street, we can control him. We can trap him. You would like that, wouldn't you, Pedro?"
"I would like it," said the Mexican. "I would like it - very much."
"I thought so," said Isaac Coffran with a cunning smile. "So I am going to trap him, Pedro, and you are to help me."
THE Mexican's smile disappeared. His face became malicious. He drew the large machete from his belt.
The fingers of his other hand twitched as though eager for vengeance.
"Not that way, Pedro," said the old man. "I said that you do not think, and I speak the truth. The Shadow is too wise to enter here without a reason. You would have me leave the front door open, I suppose, thinking that he would enter. That action, Pedro, would make him stay away.
"Why is he waiting and watching? Not because he expects some one to arrive, but because he hopes some one will leave. He knows who is in the house. He knows that I am here. He knows that you are here. If we leave, we will be followed. So you will leave Pedro. You will go out hurriedly, but you will make no sign to indicate that you know some one is there - across the street. Do you understand?"
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