Dick Merriwell Abroad: or, The Ban of the Terrible Ten

“Still he is nothing but a blustering braggart, and any man of real courage can become his master. I mind him not. It is you I have set my heart to conquer and crush, and then Buckhart will be disposed of with ease.”

“How do you propose to carry out your little project with me?”

“Don’t think I’ll not find a way. If I chose, you’d never leave this inn alive. You’d never rise from that chair, unless it were to drop dead on this hearth!”

“If all this is true, why don’t you go about it?” cried Dick, his eyes flashing. “I’m watching you! I am waiting for you to begin!”

“I came here to force you to tell me where Nadia is.”

Once more Dick laughed.

“And you fancied you could succeed? You fancied you could force a Merriwell to do your bidding? Bunol, you are a greater fool than I thought!”

“Oh, laugh, conceited idiot!” snarled the Spaniard. “You may be laughing in the face of death!”

“In some ways you are amusing, as well as disgusting. Now I know why you sat so still on that chair and pretended to sleep with the paper hiding your face. Now I know why you permitted the paper to slip down until you could peer over it. You have discovered that with your eyes and your mind you can govern weaklings. Your success with Dunbar Budthorne caused you to think you might hypnotize me, and force me to tell you where you could find Nadia. You have failed. What will be your next move?”

“I have failed, and my next move may be to put you forever out of the way of causing me more trouble.”

“Begin!” was Dick’s challenge. “I am waiting! Do you fancy you can do it alone? or will you call your paid ruffians to your assistance? Call Durbin! Call Marsh! Durbin has none too much courage, and Marsh is a miserable coward. I am here in this room alone. Call them to your aid and let’s have it out!”

“How bold you are!” sneered Bunol, again. “But it is not on such as Durbin and Marsh I depend alone. A closed carriage passed you on the road shortly before you arrived here. I was in that carriage, and with me were men ready to cut your throat at a word of command from me. Should I give the signal they would come with a rush. Better be careful with that tongue of yours. If you do not arouse me too far, I may permit you to live yet a while longer; but in the end you shall die – and by my hand!”

Dick was becoming tired of the talk. He had fancied some one might enter the room, either the landlord or the friends he had left upstairs. Now, of a sudden, he heard a sound of heavy knocking coming from the upper part of the inn, as if some one were pounding furiously on a door.

“Your friends are growing impatient,” said Bunol. “They wish to get out, it seems.”

“Wish to get out?”

“Yes; they are locked in their rooms. One of my men attended to that after you left them, I presume. I gave orders to keep Buckhart and the old man away in case I found an opportunity to meet you face to face. But the place will be disturbed by the racket they are making. I hope you enjoy your supper here and your night’s rest. I’m sorry to say I have decided to leave you. It might be disagreeable if your party and mine were to remain beneath the same roof.”

Bunol started to rise from his chair, as if to depart.

Instantly, without warning and with a great bound, Dick reached the Spaniard and clutched him.

“Wait a minute!” he exclaimed. “Don’t be in such a hurry to go.”

With a furious exclamation, Bunol flashed out a knife and struck at the boy’s throat a blow that was much like a streak of lightning as the steel glinted in the gleaming firelight – a blow impelled by deadly hatred and murderous impulse.

CHAPTER XII. – THE STRUGGLE

At times Professor Gunn became very garrulous, and on such occasions he invariably insisted that either Dick or Brad should listen to him. If both refused, he was mortally offended.

When Brad saw Dick had slipped away and left him with the old man he feared what was coming, and tried to edge toward the door; but Zenas promptly called him back, urged him to sit down, placed a chair before the open fire, and sat down himself.

“Now we’re comfortable and cozy,” said the old man. “Now we can chat, Bradley. I have a few things I wish to say to you. I have some advice I wish to give you, my boy.”

Buckhart smothered a groan.

“Won’t it keep until after supper, professor?” he asked.

“No, sir. I’ve been waiting for an opportunity to speak with you alone, and this is the time. I have taken note that you are greatly interested in Miss Budthorne. Now, you are young – far too young to fall seriously in love. Wait, sir; let me speak. I am doing this as a father. Indeed, I feel that while we are traveling together I must practically fill the position of father to you. You have some faults. I had faults when I was of your age. I wish to tell you a story, and at the end I will indicate the lesson it teaches.”

Zenas then began a long-winded series of reminiscences about himself and his boyish love affair, to which Brad was forced to listen, little dreaming that in a room below Dick Merriwell and his enemy, Miguel Bunol, were sitting face to face, watching each other with eyes that never wavered.

Only for Professor Gunn’s determination to talk Buckhart would have attempted to leave the room long before he did, and would have made a surprising and annoying discovery that came to him later when he tried the door.

“Whatever’s the matter with this old door?” exclaimed the Texan, when he found it refused to open before his hand.

“Perhaps it sticks,” suggested Zenas.

“Sticks – nothing!” growled Brad.

“Then what – ”

“It’s locked!”

“Locked?”

“Sure as shooting.”

“It can’t be.”

“I opine I know when a door is locked,” said the Texan; “and this yere door is locked tight and fast.”

“How could it happen? I’m sure there is not a spring lock on the door.”

“Not at all, professor. I wonder some if this is one of Dick’s tricks. I wonder if he locked us in here?”

“Why should he do that?”

Brad did not explain that he fancied it possible Dick had done so in order to compel him to listen to the old man’s lecture.

“Wonder if there’s no other way to get out,” he growled. “Mebbe the door to the next room is not locked.”

He hurried into the adjoining room, but found, to his further disappointment and disgust, that the door leading from that room was likewise locked.

When Brad returned he began hammering on the door in earnest.

“Look out!” cried Zenas. “You’ll knock a panel out!”

“That’s what I sure will do!” roared the Texan. “I’ll certain bu’st a hinge off if Dick doesn’t hike this way and open things up.”

“Perhaps he didn’t lock the door.”

“Then whoever did? That’s what I’d like to know.”

A sudden thought flashed through Buckhart’s head. What if this locking them in was a trick to keep them away while an attack of some sort was made on Merriwell?

“I can pay for the door,” he muttered; “and I certain ain’t going to keep still when there may be deviltry of some sort going on.”

Then he backed off a few steps and made a rush and a spring, flinging his shoulder against the door, with the whole weight of his body behind.

The door burst open with a crash. Brad stumbled out into the hall, nearly falling, but quickly recovering his feet.

As he did so a significant cry came to his ears, proceeding from the lower part of the building.

In another moment he was bounding recklessly down the dark flight of stairs.

In the meantime, Dick was having his hands full with the treacherous Spaniard. Bunol had whipped out his knife with astonishing swiftness and had struck a deadly blow at the boy’s throat.

Quick as he was, however, either Merriwell anticipated the movement or he was quicker, for he dodged and clutched the wrist of his enemy at the same time.

Bunol uttered a low exclamation of disappointed rage, attempting to wrench his knife hand free.

“No you don’t!” exclaimed Dick, holding fast with a grip of iron. “You murderous dog! This ought to be enough to put you behind bars, and I think I’ll see that you go there for a while.”

“You’ll never put me there!” palpitated the Spanish youth.

In the struggle to break away from Dick he dragged the boy back and struck against the chair on which he had been sitting, nearly falling to the floor.

“Furies!” he panted.

For a few moments in the first heat of the encounter Bunol possessed amazing strength, and he kept Dick busy on the defensive, but it was not long before the boy tripped his antagonist and flung him heavily.

The knife flew from Bunol’s hand as he fell, clanging on the stone hearth, to lie gleaming in the glow of the open grate.

Although Dick had thrown the Spaniard, he found Bunol much like an eel to hold. The fellow slipped and squirmed, almost instantly writhing from beneath the American lad.

As the two started up and Dick reached to again clutch his enemy, the landlord came rushing into the room. His eyes falling on the combatants, he paused a second, aghast.

“What does this mean?” he cried.

Brad Buckhart was not a second behind the landlord, and his eyes recognized Miguel Bunol instantly.

A roar broke from his lips.

“Mig Bunol!” he shouted.

But when he sprang to take a hand in the conflict, the strong arm of the landlord blocked him off and flung him back, while that worthy again demanded to know what it all meant.

“Don’t stop me!” snarled the Texan, his face pale with excitement and rage. “Let me get my paws on that varmint! I sure will have his scalp!”

“Keep him away!” cried Bunol to the landlord. “They are ruffians and robbers! This one tried to rob me right here!”

Although Dick had again grasped the Spaniard, the latter once more squirmed from his fingers and managed to recover his feet. Instantly he sprang toward the hearth, on which his deadly knife lay shining brightly in the light.

Dick had no thought of letting the fellow again get that weapon in his hand. Knowing he had saved his life only by the narrowest possible margin, he now launched himself from a half-crouching position at the Spaniard, hurling the fellow aside and against the wall.

“Stand there!” thundered Buckhart.

In Glasgow Brad had purchased a revolver. This weapon he now had in his hand, and its muzzle was turned toward Bunol.

“Stand there, or by the everlasting Rockies, I’ll bore you in your tracks!” declared the Texan.

Dick quickly snatched up Bunol’s knife.

The Spaniard stood at bay, his black eyes gleaming and his breast rising and falling with his panting breathing. He was like a ferocious wild animal that had fallen into a trap.

“See, landlord!” he cried. “Now they are ready to murder me!”

“I’ll have none of this in my house!” grated the innkeeper, and he unhesitatingly placed himself in front of Buckhart, who was thus prevented from using his weapon in case he wished to do so.

Dick took a step toward Bunol.

The Spanish youth saw his opportunity. He did not wait for Merriwell to again lay hands on him. Instead of that, with two pantherish bounds he crossed the floor, and another bound carried him, doubled into a compact ball, straight at a window.

There was a great crashing and jangling of glass as the desperate young villain shot through the window, carrying out sash and panes.

CHAPTER XIII. – PROFESSOR GUNN’S WILD RIDE

Strange and unusual things were happening at Robin Hood Tavern that night. Perhaps not since the days of the famous outlaw himself had such blood-stirring events happened on that particular spot.

Professor Gunn held up his hands in consternation as the impetuous young Texas hurled himself crashing through the door.

“Dear me! dear me!” gasped Zenas. “What a boy! what a boy! Impossible to restrain him! Impossible to refine him! Sometimes he acts like other people, but at other times – Eh? What’s that?”

The old pedagogue heard the cry that caused Brad to gather himself and go bounding recklessly down the dark stairs.

“Sounded peculiar!” whispered Zenas, listening at the door. “I don’t like it! I fear something is wrong!”

Then he heard excited voices rising from below and distinctly understood Buckhart to shout the name of Bunol.

“Bunol!” gurgled the old man. “That scoundrel! That miserable villain! Is he here? Can it be possible?”

Something stirred in a dark corner of the hall. He saw the thing move and cried out:

“Who’s there? What are you doing? What do you want?”

There were two of them. They came out of the darkness swiftly and were upon him in a moment. Over their faces they wore masks, and the professor gave a cry of dismay as he saw a pistol in the hand of one of them. The weapon was pointed at Zenas, and the man who held it growled:

“Better keep still, guvner! If you raise a noise we’ll ’ave to shoot you, and we don’t want to do hanything like that.”

“Robbers!” whispered the old man. “This place is a den of thieves! We’ll all be robbed and murdered here!”

Had the door not been broken he might have tried to close and hold it against them, but now he was totally defenseless.

“Don’t shout, don’t speak, don’t heven whisper!” commanded the man with the pistol.

“All right,” said Zenas, disobeying the order. “I won’t make a noise. Take my money! I haven’t much. Be careful with that deadly weapon! It might go off by accident!”

They entered the room, while the commotion below continued.

“Hif you’re sensible, guvner,” said the one with the pistol, “you’ll get off with an ’ole skin; but hif you’re foolish Hi’m afraid you’ll get ’urt.”

“Don’t waste time in talk, pal!” growled the other fellow. “We’ve got to move lively.”

“Here’s my purse,” said Zenas, holding it out. “Take it – take it and go!”

One of the men took it, but at the same time he said:

“We wants you to take a little walk with us, guvner. Now you ’adn’t better refuse, for we’ll ’ave to shoot you hif you do. Don’t hask hany questions, but move and move in a ’urry. Right out of the door, guvner. March!”

They grasped him by the arms and he was unceremoniously hustled through the broken door. He thought they were going to take him toward the front stairs, but they forced him falteringly along a dark and narrow passage, coming to another flight of stairs at the back of the house, which they descended.

“What are you going to do?” whispered the agitated old man.

“Shut hup!” growled the fellow with the pistol. “Hif you hopen your ’ead hagain Hi’ll ’ave to shoot you.”

In the darkness they passed through a room at the back of the house and came to a door that let them out into the open air. The stars were shining brightly through the leaf-denuded branches of the trees.

Just as they reached the open air there was a crashing and jangling of broken glass at the front of the house.

The starlight showed Zenas that a pair of horses had been attached to the closed carriage he had observed standing near the building. A man was standing at the head of the horses. Another man was perched on the driver’s seat, holding the reins.

The man who had hold of Gunn now rushed him without loss of time to the carriage, the door of which was standing open. Without regard for his feelings, they lifted him bodily and pitched him into the vehicle.

He bumped his head and uttered a cry of pain and fear.

One of the men sprang in and perched upon his body. The other man followed. A whip cracked like a pistol, and with a jerk the carriage started.

“Pull in his legs, pal!” exclaimed the man astride Zenas. “You can’t close the door unless you pull in his legs.”

“Blawst ’is blooming legs!” came from the other man. “Make ’im pull ’em hup.”

“Pull up your feet, old man!” commanded the one who was holding Zenas – “pull them up, if you don’t want to lose the top of your head!”

“I’m a dead man!” groaned the old professor. “This is the end of me!”

He pulled up his legs, and the carriage door was closed at last.

While this was taking place the carriage had whirled out from the forest inn into the highway, with the horses at a dead run. Persons rushing from the inn were startled and astonished, but they gave their attention to the search for Miguel Bunol, who had lately leaped through one of the windows of Robin Hood’s Tavern.

Zenas Gunn gave himself up for lost.

“Never thought I’d come to such an untimely end,” he moaned. “Why did we ever visit Sherwood Forest?”

Suddenly he became frantic and began to shout for help. Three times he did this before the man astride of him could do anything to prevent it.

“For ’Eaven’s sake smother ’im!” burst from the other man.

The fellow holding Gunn down got him by the throat and quickly checked the cries.

But those cries had been heard by both Dick Merriwell and Brad Buckhart.

The carriage bounced, and swayed, and rumbled over the forest road.

It was a terrible experience for Professor Gunn. The old fellow believed he had fallen into the hands of robbers, who were carrying him off with the idea of holding him for ransom.

Suddenly something happened. Some portion of the harness on one of the horses became unfastened, and the driver was compelled to pull up as soon as possible. He sprang down from the seat and made haste to fix the harness.

The horses had been excited and fretted by the manner in which they were whipped at the very outset. As the driver came alongside one of them the animal snorted, shied and sprang against its mate. The other horse gave a leap, and a second later both animals were running away.

The driver was jerked off his feet and dragged some distance. He clung to the reins, vainly endeavoring to hold the terrified creatures, but finally his hold relaxed and the animals raced on unguided, their fears seeming to increase as they ran.

At first the two ruffians inside did not realize what had happened, but soon they began to suspect that everything was not quite right.

“’E’s drivin’ ’orrid reckless, pal,” said the one with the cockney dialect. “’E’ll ’ave us hupset hif ’e don’t look hout.”

The carriage rocked and swayed, flinging its three occupants from side to side. At a sharp turn of the road it snapped round on two wheels, threatening to go over. Once the hub of a rear wheel struck the trunk of a tree and the carriage was flung violently to one side.

It was now the turn of Professor Gunn’s captors to be alarmed.

“What’s he trying to do, get us all killed?” palpitated the one who had been holding the old pedagogue, but who was now occupied in taking care of himself, which was no small matter.

“Hi believe the ’orses are running haway,” said the other.

“Can’t the thundering fool hold them?”

“’E don’t seem hable to.”

Then they began shouting to the driver, but as there was no driver on the seat, they received no reply.

Down a hill and over a stone bridge went the runaway team. The hoofs of the horses clattered on the frozen ground and the wheels made a rumbling roar like sullen thunder. The woods echoed with these sounds.

Professor Gunn managed to sit up and drag himself upon a cushioned seat in a corner of the carriage. The curtain at the glass window was up, and outside the old man saw the trees flying past.

With his heart in his mouth, Zenas waited for the termination of that wild night ride, yet dreaded what it might be.

The ruffians were frightened indeed now. One of them succeeded in opening the door and shouted again and again to the man he supposed was holding the reins. The carriage swept close to a tree, the trunk of which struck the door and slammed it shut, driving the man’s head through the glass, which was shattered, and cut him in a manner that brought blood copiously.

The man was dazed. He fell back on Zenas, who thrust him off.

“The ’orses hare running haway and there is no driver!” cried the cockney.

Suddenly Professor Gunn was seized with a feeling of revengeful joy. He knew the men were frightened, and a singular sort of courage came upon him.

“Serves you right, you villains!” he shrilly shouted. “I’m glad of it! I hope they run until they smash everything into a million pieces!”

“Ain’t there any way of stoppin’ them, pal?” questioned one of the ruffians.

“No, Hi don’t believe there is.”

“Let them run! let them run!” laughed Zenas wildly. “You brought it on yourselves! It’s good enough for you! Going to carry me off and hold me for ransom, were you? This is what you get! I hope you enjoy it!”

“Shut up, you old fool!”

“I won’t shut up! You can’t shut me up! Ha! ha! ha! Let them run! let them run!”

Suddenly, with a fearful shock, one of the forward wheels struck some obstruction. The carriage careened into the air and over it went, being flung from the road and fairly against a sturdy tree. The horses tore themselves free from the ruined vehicle and continued their mad flight along the forest road.

The wrecked carriage lay overturned by the roadside, and from its shattered ruins came no sound to tell whether its occupants were living or dead.

CHAPTER XIV. – AN EXCITING CHASE

The landlord of the Robin Hood had prevented Brad Buckhart from taking a flying shot at Miguel Bunol as the reckless young desperado leaped through the window. Had the Texan fired, being a wonderfully good shot, it is probable he would have “winged” the Spaniard, at least.

At the destruction of the window the excited landlord threw up his hands in despair.

The whole house was in an uproar. One or two frightened men came and peered into the room where the encounter had taken place, while the cries of frightened women could be heard coming from other parts of the building.

“What do you mean by such actions in my place?” shouted the enraged and exasperated landlord, turning on Dick and Brad.

“We’re not responsible any,” retorted Buckhart. “Whatever made you get in my way and keep me from salting that ornery Spaniard good and plenty?”

“Out and after him!” cried Dick. “Don’t let him get away!”

“He’ll have to pay for that window!” yelled the landlord.

Then Dick led the rush from the inn. The door was thrown open, and they ran out beneath the stars.

They were just in time to see the closed carriage, with both horses at a dead run and the driver mercilessly plying the whip, whirl out of the yard, turn to the right and go clattering and rattling away on the frozen road.

A moment later a horseman shot past the opposite corner of the building and turned to the left.

As he passed the windows from which the light was shining the Texan caught a glimpse of him.

“There goes the galoot hot foot!” he roared, and flung up his hand to shoot.

It was Dick who now grasped his arm and prevented him from firing.

“Steady, Brad!” cried Merriwell. “You don’t want the blood of that dog on your hands!”

“I certain would like to know why!” retorted the excited Texan. “It would give me a heap of pleasure to bore him for keeps!”

“Let him go and – ”

Dick stopped, for from the rattling carriage which had already vanished beneath the great tress that lined the road came wild cries for help, which were suddenly broken and checked.

“Great horn spoon!” palpitated the Texan. “Did hear that, pard?”

“I did, and it certainly sounded like the voice of Professor Gunn!”

“Just what I thought. You don’t opine – ”

But already Dick was rushing back into the inn, and Brad quickly followed him. Up the stairs they leaped, assailed by a new feeling of fear.

The broken door of the professor’s room hung on a single hinge, just as the Texan had left it. The light of the glowing fire and of a single candle showed them the comfortable interior of that room, but they saw nothing of Zenas Gunn.

“Professor – Professor Gunn!” called Dick.

“Where are you? Answer me – answer at once!”

But there was no answer.

“Search, Brad!” urged Dick. “He may have been alarmed by the uproar and concealed himself. Look on the bed behind those curtains! Look under the bed! Look everywhere!”

Even as he was urging his friend to do this Dick flung open the door of a wardrobe and looked within. Then he caught up the candle and hastened into the adjoining room, looking in every nook and corner, meanwhile continuing to call to Gunn.

A few moments later the two boys met in the first room and stood face to face, staring into each other’s eyes.