CHAPTER XXV

AT THE CROSS-ROADS

"Escape for thy life; look not behind thee, neither stay thou in all the plain."--Gen. xix, 17

Down the road the children trudged, mud-smeared from head to foot, their little, bare legs scratched and bleeding, their hair matted and unkempt, clad in tattered, non-descript garments, hungry and weary to the point of exhaustion but in a veritable transport of delight.

They had escaped from the ogre! They were free!

Oh, what joy it was to look about them and view the sunlit landscape and admire the flowers that grew by the roadside without dread lest the harsh voice and still harsher hand of "ole Pete" descend upon them.

With the vitality and exuberance of childhood they laughed and prattled, asking Mollie question after question and holding up flowers and shrubs for Baby Doris to smell of, and clutch at while she laughed her silvery, tinkling laugh and displayed her tiny white teeth and dimples.

But Mollie hurried them all on. "Thar hain't time yit fer foolishment," she warned them. "Sumpin' may happen. We doan want ole Pete ter ketch us ag'in."

"Shore don't," supplemented one of the boys.

"An' thar hain't ary boat thet I kin see, 'cept thet one sort o' settin' aroun' 'way out thar." Mollie pointed to where the police boat, "Mary Ann," was drifting with the current out in the middle of the river.

The children withdrew more and more to the side of the road where berries were growing along the fence and they could eat as they went. They were inclined to loiter. The tots were all so worn out by the events of the morning that any one of them could have dropped down in the grass and fallen asleep in less than five minutes.

A strange noise in the distance made them turn their heads to look back in the direction whence they had come. Instantly every one of the little band, even Mollie, scurried for cover with as much speed as if the farm bell were ringing and they were climbing into the loft.

"Hit's an injine--an injine--Hit's runnin' away!" shrieked Bobbie.

"Injine nawthin'," retorted Willie. "Whur d'y live 'fore yo' all come hyar. Hain't yo' ever seed an autymobile?"

Before the question could be answered the speeding car was sufficiently near for bright eyes peeping from between the leaves of the blackberry bushes and rhododendron to recognize the tall man clinging to the running board.

"'Sh! Hit's Pete!"

"Hit's Pete!"

"'Sh! Keep still."

"Oh, Mollie, will he see us? Will he kotch us?"

"'Sh! No. Shet up. D'y want him ter hyar yo'?"

It was a near panic but Mollie averted it, and not a leaf stirred nor a whisper sounded as the car tore past, carrying with it Messrs. Bailey, Swazey and Grimes.

"Didja seed him?--Didja seed him?" whispered the children, excitedly. "He war a-hangin' on like he war afeared he'd fall off."

"I wisht he would."

"Oh, Johnnie! Doan say thet."

"Well, I do," persisted the boy. "He hurted me awful."

Willie, who had been following the car with his eyes, suddenly extended his arm, pointing to where another car, tearing along at even greater speed, was coming down a slight incline almost at right angles with the road along which the Grimes and Bailey car was traveling.

"Golly!" he exclaimed in great excitement. "Lookit--Lookit! They'll smash--shore es shootin'--jes' whar them roads cross. Come on--Let's we-uns run back o' th' bushes hyar an' see does he git killed."

Thrilled by any diversion, the newly emancipated little farm laborers hurried as fast as they could toward the point where it seemed the two cars must collide. To their amazement, the men in the car coming down hill were standing up. Suddenly they commenced shooting at the other car. Then the men with Grimes began to shoot back. The children cowered on the ground.

"Lawdy!" gasped Mollie, "hit's a fight!" Her eagerness to see automobiles wrecked had vanished. "Git back thar--git back--run--over thar ter th' edge o' th' river, whar they won't see us."

Bullets were flying all about them. The children were terrified. Mollie feared they would cry out and so apprise Grimes of their presence. She herded them together as closely as possible and hurried on. The noise of the shooting seemed to deafen them. Leathy was crying again. Suddenly they found themselves in a little clearing. There was a platform, like a little bridge, and a shed. They sped along it breathlessly without in the least knowing where they were going and Mollie, running ahead, thinking principally of getting the baby sheltered from that hail of bullets, rushed straight on, across a narrow plank and into the cutest little house the children had ever seen. In less than a minute they were every one across the plank and, with Mollie, snuggled down under beds, behind chairs and under tables in the small room in which they found themselves. They were none too soon.

Footsteps were coming close behind them. The next instant two men dashed in breathlessly and shouted:

"Louis--Louis!"

The children crouched closer in their hiding places, hardly daring to breathe.

"He must have gone," said one of the men. "He knew he was to take the car. He's probably up near the road. Get her started, Bill. Hurry, damn it! The engine's going."

Thumping, bumping noises sounded. The house commenced to shake and quiver. The children could feel it moving, faster and faster. What was it, they wondered. A boat?

"I reckon so," whispered Mollie in reply to the question. The little ones clutched one another's hands and held their breaths. It must be a boat. They found themselves swaying from side to side. Cautiously peeking out, Mollie found that they were alone in this queer little room. Where were the men? She reconnoitered.

Yes, there they were, up in front. One was turning a wheel just like the wheel that had been on her father's boat. Oh, glory! They were actually on a boat and sailing away, she didn't care where, away from Grimes and his old farm forever!

But there was little time for rejoicing. They were still in danger, it seemed. That man at the wheel looked like someone she had seen before. She was trying to think where. Then another shot rang out. It came right across in front of the boat. The man turned the craft to the left. Another shot sounded.

Mollie looked in the direction the shots came from and observed the boat she had previously seen loitering idly out in the middle of the river. It seemed to be trying to overtake the one on which she and the children had taken refuge. Were they after them? Had someone seen them come aboard? Was Grimes, himself, on that pursuing boat? Oh, why didn't the man at the wheel make it go faster? She watched his every motion.

He seemed to be terribly afraid. He kept looking back over his shoulder. The dark brown boat was almost alongside. There was lots of shooting now. Mollie slipped back out of range of the bullets. But she could still see what was happening.

The man at the wheel was afraid. He was running frantically now and letting the wheel go all by itself. Another man was running about. He had red hair and a plaid suit. He seemed more scared than the man with the dark mustache.

"I'm going to jump," he called to the other. "I'm not going to stay here and be caught like a rat in a trap. Come on. We can swim. Dive. Let 'em think we're drowned. We can make the shore anywhere along here. You can stay if you want to. I'm going."

He sprang up on the rail and plunged into the water. The other man did the same. Mollie and the children were alone!

When the bullets commenced to fly at the cross-roads and the tires were punctured, one after another, bringing their car to a halt Peter Grimes had leaped from the running board and run, as fast as his withered leg would let him, back along the river road in the direction he had come.

But the men in the other car were jumping out to pursue the kidnappers. They were running down the lane to the pier. And they hadn't seen him! But they might, any minute. He parted a clump of bushes and ran down a slight embankment. The swamps came in around here, somewhere, but there was nothing dangerous, so far as he knew, such as the bog that lay at his door. A shot whistled past his ears, so close as to make him dodge. Were they shooting at random or had they seen him? He cowered and shivered in terror. He gave no thought to his footsteps. Let them lead him anywhere--anywhere so long as it was away from danger of death out there in the open road. He plunged, he floundered. He drew forth his lame leg with difficulty, only to find that the other leg was going deeper into the mud. A frenzy of terror seized him. He lifted up his voice and shouted with all his strength:

"Help! Help!"

But the only other sound that broke the summer stillness was the boom of a gun out on the river where the police boat, Mary Ann, was chasing a motor launch that was apparently running amuck.