CHAPTER XXI

BOB TAKES A RISK

If the young photographer was astonished, so was the Irishman.

“Phat, you?” he gasped.

“Mike Grogan!” ejaculated Bob.

He darted a swift glance around the interior of the room, and was even more taken back than before by beholding Casco and Barker seated at the table, a bottle between them.

“It’s that Alden boy,” cried Casco.

“Alden!” exclaimed Barker, jumping up. “How did he find out we were here?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is he alone?”

“No; there is a man with him, and hang me if it isn’t Joe Horning.”

“What, Joe Horning the circus fakir?”

“Yes.”

“What does he want?”

“Give it up.”

Barker moved toward the door, which Grogan still held open.

Bob was trying to think. What should he do? Confronting the villainous trio had completely upset his calculations.

He had half a mind to run away. It was certain the trio would help Horning and not himself when they understood the situation.

But Casco seemed to realize what was passing through the young photographer’s mind, for with a quick movement he sprang past Grogan and caught Bob by the arm.

“Come in here!” he said, sharply.

Bob marched into the place. Horning followed, and then the door was locked, and the Irishman placed the key in his pocket.

Bob glanced around curiously. He saw that the cottage contained nothing but a rude table, and several boxes for seats, and rightly conjectured that the trio had found it deserted and made of it a temporary rendezvous.

“Now tell me what brings you here?” demanded Barker, facing Bob, savagely.

“I came to get help,” returned the youth, as coolly as he could.

“Help! What for?”

“To take this man to the lock-up.”

“What! Horning?”

“Yes.”

“That’s rich.”

And both Barker and Casco laughed.

“Shake,” said Casco to the fakir.

“I can’t, my hands are tied,” returned Horning, rather sheepishly.

“Blame me if they ain’t. So the boy had you a prisoner, Joe.”

“Yes,” growled the swindler. “He hit me in the head with a rock first and knocked me silly.” He did not fancy having the others think he had been overpowered by a boy.

“Why was he after you?”

“We had a row up to the fair grounds.”

“I was after him because he tried to steal my money and then stole a horse and carriage,” returned Bob.

There was a general laugh, but at whose expense it was hard to say.

Casco cut the cord which bound Horning. The first thing the swindler did when released was to confront Bob.

“I’ve a good mind to fix you for that crack in the head,” he cried.

“Hold up, Joe, he’s our game,” interrupted Casco.

“He is,” added Barker.

“An’ don’t worrhy but phat we’ll git square wid him,” said Grogan.

“You seem to know him pretty well,” remarked Horning.

“We do,” said Casco. He turned to Bob. “See here, how long have you been following us since you escaped from Cabot’s place?”

“I haven’t been following you at all.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Well, if you know better, what do you ask me for?”

“Don’t get impudent. Do you know that you are in our power?”

“Seems to me I was in your power before,” and Bob grinned.

“Sure, an’ he’s a terror,” remarked Grogan.

“He is that,” said Horning. “But I say, what are you three fellows doing out here? I thought you were in New York.”

Barker winked at him. The wink was not intended to reach Bob, but, nevertheless, the youth caught it.

“They are up to no good, that’s certain,” he thought. “If they were merely hiding from the authorities, they would choose some more congenial spot than this.”

Barker now produced a rope, and was about to tie Bob up when Grogan came forward.

“Phat’s the good o’ that?” he asked. “Sure, an’ the b’y kin git out o’ it loike a snake.”

“You’re right,” said Casco. “He’s the imp’s own. Put him in one of the back rooms and place Mike to watch him. I want to talk to Joe.”

Grogan’s face fell a little, but when Casco said he could take the bottle along for company the Irishman was reconciled.

Barker conducted Bob to a room separate from that now occupied. Here the young photographer was tied to a support under a heavy shelf and left in care of Grogan.

Grogan at once settled himself on a box, and, filling his pipe, lit it.

“As yez don’t drink, Oi’ll take a sup fer yez,” he said, and took a deep potion.

“What are you fellows doing up here, Grogan?” asked Bob, as cheerfully as he could.

“Ax me no questions,” muttered Grogan. “If ye want ter think o’ somethin’ cheerful, think o’ how we will trate ye in the marnin’.”

Bob was compelled to shiver, and he became silent. Once more was he in the power of this lawless set of men.

Quarter of an hour dragged by. Grogan sat calmly smoking, with his small eyes fastened on the young photographer. He did not intend to give the youth the first chance to escape.

Bob heard the murmur of voices, and he knew Casco, Barker, and Horning were talking over some matter of importance.

While the time slipped slowly by, Bob heard a distant rumble which came closer and then died away utterly.

“It must have been a train. I did not know we were so close to the tracks,” thought the youth.

Presently Grogan took another drink, and again lit his pipe. But now Bob noticed that the Irishman did not puff so vigorously as before. Was he growing drowsy?

Fervidly the youth hoped so. He watched Grogan as a cat watches a mouse, and he was filled with hope when he saw the man’s pipe fall and the Irishman make no effort to restore it to his mouth.

“Now is my chance!” said Bob to himself, and he set swiftly to work to free himself.

As Grogan was to watch the prisoner, Barker had been rather careless in tying Bob up. The bonds were soon slipped off, and then raising one of the windows Bob leaped out.

Just as he did so, Grogan started up. Seeing the youth disappear through the opening, he gave a loud cry, which soon brought the others to the scene.

“Where is he, Mike?”

“After him, boys!”

“Yes; he must not get away this time!”

Meanwhile Bob was running away as fast as his feet could move. When about a hundred yards from the cottage, he looked back and saw that all four men were in pursuit.

On he dashed until striking a stone with his toe he went down flat on the ground.

He arose as quickly as possible, but the time lost had enabled his pursuers almost to close the distance between them.

Bob was now but fifty feet from the railroad tracks, which were situated on a small embankment. As he ran up toward the tracks, he saw a slow freight approaching.

Should he board one of the cars? It might afford an excellent means of escape.

With a glare of the head-light the train came along. Bob ran to meet it, with the four men not far behind him. A moment later Bob was on the train.