CHAPTER IV

BOB IS LEFT TO HIS FATE

Bob was strong for his age, but his strength was nothing compared with that of Mike Grogan, who now faced the intrepid youth.

The Irishman was every inch of six feet in height, and, as he towered in front of Bob, it looked as if he would crush the boy.

As he closed in he struck out at Bob several times, but the youth ducked and dodged and not a blow took effect.

Then the Irishman tried new tactics. He pretended to run, and, when Bob followed, he turned swiftly and caught the youth by the waist.

“Now I have yez!” cried Grogan. “How do ye loike that, me b’y?”

He threw Bob on the ground, and kicked him heavily in the side. The youth attempted to scramble up, but the Irishman kicked him again, and then Bob was glad enough to lie still.

“’Tis the same b’y we met at Fitt’s hotel,” muttered Grogan, as he looked closer at Bob. “Phat brought yez here?” he demanded.

“That’s my business,” returned Bob, with a gasp. Besides bruising him severely, the kicks had taken all the wind out of him.

“Is it?” said Grogan, sarcastically. “Mebbe Oi’ll make it moine, too. Lie where yez are, onless yez would rather be kicked to death.”

“What do you propose to do with me?” demanded Bob.

“Yez will see when the toime comes.”

“You have no right to keep me here.”

Grogan gave a chuckle.

“’Tis not the loikes of you to be tellin’ me phat Oi kin do, moind that. Phat’s yer name?”

“Bob Alden. Does that make you feel any better?”

“Do yez belong up to the hotel?”

“No.”

“Yez got yerself into a foine pickle whin yez put up against me an’ the others.”

“You had no right to attack my friend,” returned Bob, warmly. “It’s a pity we didn’t capture you then and there.”

“Shut up! Oi want no more from ye.”

Grogan began to get angry, and, seeing he could gain nothing by keeping up the conversation, Bob became silent.

The youth wondered what had become of Frank Landes. Had he fallen into the hands of Casco or Barker?

“It looks like it,” thought Bob. “I wish I could get away from this chap, and find out for certain.”

He looked up at Grogan, who still stood over him, smoking a short clay pipe and glaring down at him. The Irishman seemed to read his thought.

“Yez can’t git away, and yez had better not troy,” he said, savagely.

“Go for him, Bill!” exclaimed Bob, to an imaginary person behind Grogan.

The ruse worked well. Mike Grogan turned, with a startled air, to confront the person he supposed was about to attack him. On the instant Bob jumped to his feet. His side felt fearfully sore, but to this he paid no attention.

“Shtop!” roared Grogan, as soon as he realized that he had been imposed upon.

But instead of stopping, Bob dashed for the fence which lined the lane. Grogan came after him at the top of his speed. But the boy was the better runner of the two, and he reached the fence fully twenty feet ahead of the Irishman.

Bob vaulted over with a single bound. His intention was to run up the lane and join Frank, if possible.

But as he went over the fence his hopes were crushed before his feet touched the ground on the other side. He fell plump into the hands of Casco and Barker, who were just returning from casting Landes into the ditch some distance away.

“Ha! who’s this?” cried Casco. “That boy, as I live!”

“What boy?” asked Barker.

“Landes’ friend. Catch him!”

Barker caught Bob by one arm, and, running up, the scar-faced man caught him by the other. Bob tried to break away, but found it useless.

“Hold him tight, Barker. I’ll bind his hands behind him.”

“What for?”

“I have reasons. Hold him. That’s it.”

Casco produced a bit of strong cord, and with it bound Bob’s hands together tightly.

“Now come along, and don’t make any noise,” he said to the youth.

“Where to?”

“To that hay-stack over there.”

“I won’t go. What have you been doing out here on the road?”

“Nothing,” returned Casco, in pretended surprise, and he pinched Barker’s arm to make his companion keep silent.

Bob was about to question them concerning Frank. But he thought it possible Landes had gotten away, and such questions might spoil any chance of rescue as well as the capture of the trio.

Seeing he could not help himself, Bob at last went over the fence, and with Casco on one side and Barker on the other marched to the hay-stack, Grogan bringing up the rear, with a club in hand, ready to strike at the first sign of rebellion.

“Now we will sift this matter to the bottom,” said Casco, as he came to a halt. “You are Frank Landes’ friend, are you not?”

“I am,” returned Bob.

“What has become of Landes?”

And Casco poked Barker in the ribs on the sly.

“I don’t know.”

“Was he with you?”

“That is my affair.”

“Answer me.”

Bob remained silent. Casco pretended to get very angry, but at last simmered down.

“He sez his name is Bob Alden,” put in Grogan.

“What’s that!” demanded Barker, in intense surprise.

Bob looked at him, and saw that the man was very pale, and evidently under strong excitement.

“Is your name Bob Alden?” he demanded, facing the youth.

“It is.”

“Did you use to live with old Thompson?”

“I did. But I don’t remember you,” returned Bob, growing interested.

“I suppose not. Where have you been since Thompson died?”

“I lived with a farmer named Joel Carrow.”

“What are you doing now?”

“Answering questions,” returned the youth, with a faint smile.

“I want none of your jokes,” growled Barker. “Do you work for a living?”

“I expect to, just as soon as I can get a job.”

“Are you on the road?”

“I’m walking to Stampton, if that’s what you mean.”

“Humph!”

“How did you fall in with Landes?” put in James Casco.

“He took my part when Carrow wanted to whip me, and I’m helping him take pictures in return for my board on the road.”

The men ceased asking questions, and Casco and Barker walked a short distance away, leaving Grogan on guard.

“It’s a surprise, and no mistake,” said Barker, in a low tone. “I was sure the boy had gone West. Thompson’s relatives said so.”

“Is the old matter settled up?” questioned the scar-faced man.

“Almost. But there might be more money in it,” mused Barker. “Say, I have a plan.”

“What is it?”

“I wonder if we could get the boy to join us?”

“Not likely.”

“Why not? The promise of big money might fetch him.”

“He looks too honest. Still, you might sound him. Only if he refuses, what then? You won’t dare to let him go.”

“I won’t give him much information till I am sure of him,” rejoined Barker.

Bob could not make out what the two men said, but from their actions he felt certain they were conversing about him.

“Say, boy!” demanded Barker, coming up. “Have you any offer of work at Stampton when you reach there?”

“No.”

“You’ll find it mighty hard getting a job.”

“Perhaps I will. But that’s none of your affair.”

“Don’t get saucy. I thought, perhaps, you might like to leave Landes and join us.”

“What at?”

“A little private business we’re working.”

“Does it pay?”

“You bet it does.”

“Do you work hard?”

“Not at all.”

“Then I’m afraid it wouldn’t suit me. I’ve been used to hard work, and, if I knocked off, it might hurt me.”

Barker was enraged at this cool reply, and he would have struck Bob in the head had not Casco held him back.

“I told you how it would be,” said the scar-faced man. “He is too particular for this crowd.”

“Maybe not,” said Bob, who was anxious to learn what were the plans of the gang. “Tell me the work, and I may join.”

“Can you keep your mouth shut?” asked Casco.

“I can when I have to.”

“We are going to get rich by a bold move,” said Barker. “We intend to make twenty thousand dollars in one night, and----”

“Barker, don’t be a fool!” cried Casco, angrily.

“’Tis bad to tell the b’y that,” grumbled Grogan.

“I know what I’m doing,” returned Barker. “Will you help us make it?”

“You intend to rob somebody, eh?” said Bob, with flashing eyes.

“We intend to get twenty thousand dollars. Will you join us, and take your share?”

“No. I am not a thief.”

“That may be. But your father would have jumped at the chance,” returned Barker, coolly.

“My father? Did you know my father?” cried Bob, in astonishment.

“I did. He and I were old friends.”

“Tell me about him. Where is he?”

“Dead, long ago.”

“And my mother?”

“Dead also.”

Bob took a long breath. Was this man telling the truth?

“And you say my father would have jumped at a chance like this?” he said, slowly.

“Yes. He and I worked many a little game together, and never got caught, either. You had better join us, and I will show you all the ropes. It beats working hard all to bits.”

“You are an infernal scamp!” burst out Bob. “Tell me my father was a thief? If I were loose I would--would--pulverize you. If you knew my father at all, it must have been at some time when he found you out and exposed you.”

Barker drew back as if shot. Evidently Bob’s last remark had struck home. He breathed hard, and glared at the youth.

“You don’t know when you’re well off,” he cried. “I offer you the best possible chance to make money, and you refuse.”

“I never trained with thieves,” returned Bob, stoutly.

“Oi’ll fix yez fer that!” cried Grogan. “B’ys, Oi have a plan!” he said to the others.

“Shove him into the hay-stack,” cried Barker. “He’s as stubborn as his father was,” he added, in a lower tone. “I’ll fix him later.”

The three caught up the youth, and shoved him into an opening on one side of the stack.

“Come on,” Barker cried to the others. “We have just about time to do that other work, and get away before morning.”

The three villains hurried from the scene, leaving Bob to his fate.

They had gone but a few minutes, when the boy smelt smoke. He looked around. Grogan had knocked out his pipe, and the burning tobacco had set fire to the hay directly behind him!