CHAPTER VII.
INTO THE RIVER
Slowly and painfully, with a dull ache in his head, and an uncertainlook in his eyes, Jack returned to his senses. A thin stream of bloodtrickled down his neck, and putting up his hand he felt a large lumpunder the hair.
"It must have been Mosey who struck me," was his first thought as hegathered his scattered faculties together. "Well, thank God, he didn'tkill me."
It was some time before he felt any desire to rise, and when he finallydid so, he found himself weaker than he had anticipated.
"The coward!" was the young machinist's comment. "To strike meunawares. I knew he disliked me, but hasn't he wronged me enoughalready?"
Jack did not know--nor, indeed, could he have understood--the bitterhatred the Irishman bore him.
The only pride of Andy Mosey's life was his bull pup and his son Mike,and to have the young machinist occupying a position he thought his sonshould have, had always been more than this hot-tempered fellow wasinclined to bear.
The place in which Jack found himself was totally dark, whether becauseit had no windows, or because it was night, he could not tell.
He groped around, and seeing a ray of light coming up from beneath,applied his eye to what proved to be a knot-hole in the floor.
He was surprised to find the river flowing directly below, and knew atonce that he was in the lowest part of the old mill, opposite theancient wheel.
"They must have carried me here," he said to himself. "I wonder howlong ago?"
He felt his way along the walls, and at last reached the door. He wason the point of lifting the latch, when it was thrown open, and by thethe rays of a lantern that at first dazzled him, he saw himselfconfronted by Dennis Corrigan and Andy Mosey.
"So ye'v cum to yer sinses at last, have ye?" was Mosey's greeting, ashe set down the lantern. "Ye wint down moighty easy, so ye did."
"I'd like to know what right you have to treat me in this shamefulmanner," demanded Jack, indignantly.
"Never moind," returned the Irishman; "it will teach ye a lesson not totell lying stories about me."
"I haven't said anything but what I believe to be true," replied Jack,pointedly.
"Sure, now, is that raly so? Well, ye can suffer for thinking wrong,"continued Mosey. "Oi niver----"
"Oh, stop your everlasting jaw!" broke in Corrigan, who was morepractical in his way than his brother-in-law. "Never mind what you'vedone, and what you haven't done. The question is, what are we to dowith the boy, now he's here?"
The Irishman scratched his head.
"It won't do to let him go," he said.
"Suppose we search his pockets," suggested Corrigan.
Jack uttered an exclamation.
"What do you mean?" he demanded; "you wouldn't dare?"
Corrigan laughed. The young machinist did not yet know that this manwas at heart a thorough villain.
"Wait and see," he remarked, coolly. "Put your back to the door, Andy,and don't let him escape."
Corrigan was a heavily built and powerful man, and in his presentcondition Jack knew that he was no match for such an opponent.
"What do you want?" asked the young machinist.
"Want to see what you have with you. Come, show up."
Jack's head still ached from the rough treatment it had received. Hedid not wish to court another such blow, and so did as demanded.
A knife, ten cents, the five-dollar bill farmer Farrell had given him,and a copy of his agreement with Mr. Benton were all the articles ofvalue that he carried.
"Here's something for you, Andy," observed Corrigan, tossing over theten-cent piece. "The price of a drink."
Corrigan quietly slipped the five-dollar bill into his own clothes.Then opening the agreement, he held it near the lantern and read itcarefully. It seemed to interest him greatly, and muttering somethingto himself, he shoved it into the inside pocket of his coat.
"Do you intend to rob me outright?" exclaimed Jack, whose blood boiledat such treatment.
"If that's what you call it, I suppose we do," was Corrigan's reply.
The young machinist was now becoming more used to the situation, and hedetermined to submit no longer. He noticed that Mosey had unconsciouslymoved to one side, and watching his chance, he sprang for the door.
But Corrigan was too quick for him, and with a reach of his long arm hecaught the young machinist by the collar, and held him until Mosey hadagain reached the door.
Jack's grit was up and he wrestled with all his strength. He caught hisantagonist by the waist, and literally threw him to the floor.
"Hit him. Andy, hit him!" screamed Corrigan, trying to regain his feet.
Mosey approached Jack with the same stick he had used in the firstencounter. The young machinist caught the blow upon the left arm, andretaliated by landing one square from the shoulder on the Irishman'snasal organ. He did not believe in pugilism, but knew something of theart of self-defense; and used his knowledge to good advantage.
He followed up the first blow by another, and had just gained the doorfor the second time, when Corrigan, with a vile exclamation, seized theheavy brass lantern, and swinging it over his head, brought it down withall force upon Jack's neck.
The blow half stunned the young machinist, and before he could recoverhe was on his back, with Corrigan on top of him.
"Phat shall we do?" asked Mosey in bewilderment. Jack's unexpectedattack had surprised and dismayed him.
"Get that rope upstairs," gasped Corrigan, who was well-nigh winded;"we'll bind him so tight that he won't give us any more trouble."
The Irishman disappeared for a few moments.
When he returned he held a stout cord in his hand, with which the twobound the young machinist securely, hands and feet.
"We'll leave him here for the present," said Corrigan, when they hadfinished their work. "Come on," and taking up the lantern, which inspite of its rough usage still remained lit, he led the way up stairsfollowed by Mosey.
"Well, I'm in a pretty fix, and no mistake," was Jack's mental decisionwhen alone. "So far, my exertions to gain freedom haven't amounted toanything. But if they think that I'm going to give up already, they aremistaken."
He tugged at the cords, and by a strong effort managed, though notwithout painful squeezing, to pull his feet free.
His hands, however, were placed altogether too closely to allow of asimilar proceeding, and he endeavored to find some means of cutting thefastening.
He remembered that the latch of the door was a rusty one, and rough onits lower side. Walking over to this, he began to rub the cord alongthe edge in the hope of severing it, but the improvised saw--if it mightbe called such--was not a handy tool, and half an hour passed before hemade any material progress.
"It's mighty slow work," he said to himself: "but it's bound to wearaway sooner or later."
Presently a heavy step sounded outside on the stairs, and a moment laterAndy Mosey pitched into the room.
He was in a sad state of intoxication, and his face was red with anger.
"Been tellin' foine sthories about me!" he exclaimed. "Saying I stholeyer match-box an' set foire to old Gray's house! Oi'll fix ye!"
"BEEN TELLIN' FOINE STHORIES ABOUT ME!" HE EXCLAIMED."SAYIN' I STHOLE YER MATCH-BOX AN' SET FOIRE TO OLD GRAY'S HOUSE! OI'LLFIX YE!"]
He held a heavy stick in his hand, and as he spoke he brought it downwith full force on Jack's head. The young machinist went down like ashot.
"Tellin' loies about me!" continued Mosey, as he dragged the halfsenseless body to the water's edge.
"Help! Help!" cried Jack, in a feeble voice.
But his cries were of no avail, and the next instant the young machinistwas being swept by the rushing tide down the stream, to the roaringfalls below.