CHAPTER XI.
ON THE RIVER ROAD
Mont Gray hastened to the Corney postoffice with all possible speed.For his own sake, as well as for Deb's he wished to dispatch hisbusiness as quickly as possible, so as to devote the remainder of theday to hunting up Jack.
He was afraid that something out of the ordinary had befallen hisfriend. He had not wished to add to Deb's already deep anxiety, but heknew Jack too well to imagine that the young machinist would willfullykeep his sister in ignorance of his whereabouts.
This feeling upon the young man's part might not have been so strong hadall other surroundings been more tranquil. But since the shut-down atthe tool works the air had been filled with murmurs ofdissatisfaction--augmented largely by the suspension of the bank, andeverywhere there prevailed a vague feeling that something was about tohappen.
One thing was certain. Not a single one of his employes were satisfiedwith Mr. Felix Gray's management, and there were plenty of hot-headedmen who wished him joy over his burnt mansion.
It did not take Mont long to post the letters, and then he struck out atonce for the Farrell place.
It was a glorious morning, bright and clear, and when he reached theRedrock road he found the birds singing as merrily as could be.
In spite of the unpleasant things that had happened, Mont feltwonderfully light-hearted, the secret of which was that he was doingsomething for Deb--a service which he knew she would appreciate, and onewhich, therefore, he was more than willing to do.
As the young man walked along the river bank whistling cheerily tohimself he espied a man coming toward him.
A moment later he recognized the individual as Andy Mosey.
"Wonder what he is doing out here," said Mont to himself. "Perhaps theprison keeper was right, and Jack is on his track--may be watching hischance to get evidence to convict him." When the discovery took placeMont was at a spot where the road ran close to the bank, and here hewaited for the Irishman to come up.
As Mosey approached, it was easy to see that he had been drinkingheavily. In truth it was but the continuance of his potations of theprevious day.
"He had better take care, or he'll go over the bank, sure," was theyoung man's mental observation, as he watched the reeling form.
As Mosey drew nearer Mont noticed that his eyes were deeply sunken, andthat despite the drink, his face looked pale and haggard.
"Possibly he is worried over his wrongdoings," thought Mont, hittingmore truth than he imagined. "It's a pity such a strong fellow can'tkeep from liquor."
The Irishman shuffled directly toward Mont, without apparently noticinghim.
"Hello," exclaimed the young man, sharply. "Where bound?"
The Irishman started up in surprise.
"Where you--hic--goin'?" he asked.
"I'm looking for Jack Willington. Have you seen him?"
Mosey gave a shudder. The remembrance of that awful scene in the oldmill still hung in his mind.
"No--hic--no," he answered hastily. "Oi haven't see the b'y for twodays," and he gave a lurch outward.
"Take care!" exclaimed Mont. "If you tumble over that bank you'll neverget out again."
The Irishman drew as far away as possible from the water.
"You're roight, Mont, me b'y," he mumbled. "It's sure death, andno--hic--foolin'."
"So you're certain that you haven't seen Jack?" continued Mont. "He hasbeen out here I know."
The effect of his last words was a truly astonishing one. With a cry ofdrunken rage, Mosey sprang toward him, his eyes blazing with fury.
"Ye can't come it over--hic--me!" he shouted. "Ye think ye're schmart,but yo're left this--hic--toime."
"What do you mean?" ejaculated Mont.
The extraordinary change in the Irishman's manner nearly dumbfoundedhim.
"Ye know well enough."
"Then you have seen him?" exclaimed the young man. "Oh, I see. Heknows a thing or two about you, and----"
"He don't know--hic--nothin',--now," hiccoughed the Irishman. Theliquor had muddled his brain.
"What!" gasped Mont, with a sudden sense of horror. "You--you----" hebegan.
He was standing with his heels against a small rock that overhung thebank.
"Ye can foind out fer--hic--yerself!" snarled Mosey, and with a quickspring he gave the young man a push that sent him spinning overbackward. Mont tried to catch hold of the rock, but the smooth surfaceslipped from under his hands. He grasped the small bushes--they cameout by the roots. He felt himself going down--down;--the glint of thesunshine upon the water sparkled in his face and then?
WITH A QUICK SPRING HE GAVE THE YOUNG MAN A PUSH THATSENT HIM SPINNING OVER BACKWARD.]
Mosey got down flat on the rocks and crawling to the edge, peered overthe bank. He saw Mont's hat rise to the surface, and float swiftlyalong with the bounding stream.
"He's gone!" he muttered, hoarsely, after waiting for further signs ofhis victim. "Gone to the bottom!"
He crawled back to the middle of the road, and arose to his feet.
The awful occurrence had for the time sobered him, and he moved forwardwithout a stagger.
"Bad worruk Oi'm doin'!" he muttered to himself. "Phat will Dennis say?"
The thought of his brother-in-law's possible condemnation of his actionsmade him shiver. He turned and slowly retraced his steps from whence hehad come. He had not quite reached the spot when Corrigan's voicesounded in his ear.
"Where have you been?" he demanded.
"Oi thought Oi'd go to Corney, but Oi changed me moind," was Mosey'sreply.
"Good thing you did. They want you up there."
"Phat for?"
Mosey had stopped at the door, and now looked at his brother-in-lawsharply.
"Oh, for setting fire to Gray's house," said Corrigan, with a laugh.
"Oh, Oi thought----" the Irishman suddenly checked himself. "Say, Oididn't see ye on the road," he continued.
"I came up by the back way," replied Corrigan.
"Phy?"
Corrigan made no reply. To tell the truth, he did not wish Mosey toknow that he had stolen Jack's model, and that precious article was nowsafely hidden in the loft of the mill.
"Phy don't ye answer me question?" continued Andy Mosey.
"Oh, I thought I'd try the other way for a change," said Corrigan, aslightly as possible. "How is the young fellow?" he continued, changingthe subject.
"He's--he's gone," faltered Mosey. "He--he had a mishap, and fell intothe wather."
"Drowned?"
"Yes."
Corrigan gave a whistle of surprise. He was on the point of asking theparticulars, but suddenly changed his mind.
"Well, I'm glad he's out of the way," he declared.
Mosey walked into the mill, and sat down on a bench, the picture of fearand misery. Corrigan did not pay any further attention to him, but wentupstairs and examined the model he had stolen.
"It is a beautiful piece of work!" was his mental comment, "and if Ionly work it right I'll make a neat stake out of it!" he added as he hidit away again.