through the storm the voice of a manjust ahead and evidently approaching along the highway.
The youth turned to flee; but the thought of the men tracking him fromthat direction brought him to a sudden halt. There was only the road tothe right, then, after all. Cautiously he moved toward it, and at thesame time the words of the voice came clearly through the night:
"'... as, swinging heel and toe,
'We tramped the road to Anywhere, the magic road
to Anywhere,
'The tragic road to Anywhere, such dear, dim years
ago.'"
The voice seemed reassuring--its quality and the annunciation of thewords bespoke for its owner considerable claim to refinement. The youthhad halted again, but he now crouched to one side fearing to reveal hispresence because of the bloody crime he thought he had committed; yethow he yearned to throw himself upon the compassion of this fine voicedstranger! How his every fibre cried out for companionship in this nightof his greatest terror; but he would have let the invisible minstrelpass had not Fate ordained to light the scene at that particular instantwith a prolonged flare of sheet lightning, revealing the two wayfarersto one another.
The youth saw a slight though well built man in ragged clothes anddisreputable soft hat. The image was photographed upon his brain forlife--the honest, laughing eyes, the well moulded features harmonizingso well with the voice, and the impossible garments which marked the manhobo and bum as plainly as though he wore a placard suspended from hisneck.
The stranger halted. Once more darkness enveloped them. "Lovely eveningfor a stroll," remarked the man. "Running out to your country place?Isn't there danger of skidding on these wet roads at night? I toldJames, just before we started, to be sure to see that the chains were onall around; but he forgot them. James is very trying sometimes. Now henever showed up this evening and I had to start out alone, and he knowsperfectly well that I detest driving after dark in the rain."
The youth found himself smiling. His fear had suddenly vanished. No onecould harbor suspicion of the owner of that cheerful voice.
"I didn't know which road to take," he ventured, in explanation of hispresence at the cross road.
"Oh," exclaimed the man, "are there two roads here? I was looking forthis fork and came near passing it in the dark. It was a year ago sinceI came this way; but I recall a deserted house about a mile up the dirtroad. It will shelter us from the inclemencies of the weather."
"Oh!" cried the youth. "Now I know where I am. In the dark and the stormand after all that has happened to me tonight nothing seemed natural.It was just as though I was in some strange land; but I know now. Yes,there is a deserted house a little less than a mile from here; but youwouldn't want to stop there at night. They tell some frightful storiesabout it. It hasn't been occupied for over twenty years--not since theSquibbs were found murdered there--the father, mother, three sons, anda daughter. They never discovered the murderer, and the house has stoodvacant and the farm unworked almost continuously since. A couple of mentried working it; but they didn't stay long. A night or so was enoughfor them and their families. I remember hearing as a little--er--childstories of the frightful things that happened there in the house wherethe Squibbs were murdered--things that happened after dark when thelights were out. Oh, I wouldn't even pass that place on a night likethis."
The man smiled. "I slept there alone one rainy night about a yearago," he said. "I didn't see or hear anything unusual. Such stories areridiculous; and even if there was a little truth in them, noises can'tharm you as much as sleeping out in the storm. I'm going to encroachonce more upon the ghostly hospitality of the Squibbs. Better come withme."
The youth shuddered and drew back. From far behind came faintly theshout of a man.
"Yes, I'll go," exclaimed the boy. "Let's hurry," and he started off ata half-run toward the dirt road.
The man followed more slowly. The darkness hid the quizzical expressionof his eyes. He, too, had heard the faint shout far to the rear. Herecalled the boy's "after all that has happened to me tonight," and heshrewdly guessed that the latter's sudden determination to brave thehorrors of the haunted house was closely connected with the hoarse voiceout of the distance.
When he had finally come abreast of the youth after the latter, hisfirst panic of flight subsided, had reduced his speed, he spoke to himin his kindly tones.
"What was it that happened to you to-night?" he asked. "Is someonefollowing you? You needn't be afraid of me. I'll help you if you've beenon the square. If you haven't, you still needn't fear me, for I won'tpeach on you. What is it? Tell me."
The youth was on the point of unburdening his soul to this strangerwith the kindly voice and the honest eyes; but a sudden fear stayed histongue. If he told all it would be necessary to reveal certain detailsthat he could not bring himself to reveal to anyone, and so he commencedwith his introduction to the wayfarers in the deserted hay barn. Brieflyhe told of the attack upon him, of his shooting of Dopey Charlie, of theflight and pursuit. "And now," he said in conclusion, "that you know I'ma murderer I suppose you won't have any more to do with me, unless youturn me over to the authorities to hang." There was almost a sob in hisvoice, so real was his terror.
The man threw an arm across his companion's shoulder. "Don't worry,kid," he said. "You're not a murderer even if you did kill DopeyCharlie, which I hope you did. You're a benefactor of the human race.I have known Charles for years. He should have been killed long since.Furthermore, as you shot in self defence no jury would convict you.I fear, however, that you didn't kill him. You say you could hear hisscreams as long as you were within earshot of the barn--dead men don'tscream, you know."
"How did you know my name?" asked the youth.
"I don't," replied the man.
"But you called me 'Kid' and that's my name--I'm The Oskaloosa Kid."
The man was glad that the darkness hid his smile of amusement. He knewThe Oskaloosa Kid well, and he knew him as an ex-pug with a pock markedface, a bullet head, and a tin ear. The flash of lightning had revealed,upon the contrary, a slender boy with smooth skin, an oval face, andlarge dark eyes.
"Ah," he said, "so you are The Oskaloosa Kid! I am delighted, sir,to make your acquaintance. Permit me to introduce myself: my name isBridge. If James were here I should ask him to mix one of his famouscocktails that we might drink to our mutual happiness and the longevityof our friendship."
"I am glad to know you, Mr. Bridge," said the youth. "Oh, I can't tellyou how glad I am to know you. I was so lonely and so afraid," and hepressed closer to the older man whose arm still encircled his shoulder,though at first he had been inclined to draw away in some confusion.
Talking together the two moved on along the dark road. The storm hadsettled now into a steady rain with infrequent flashes of lightning andpeals of thunder. There had been no further indications of pursuit; butBridge argued that The Sky Pilot, being wise with the wisdom of the owland cunning with the cunning of the fox, would doubtless surmise that afugitive would take to the first road leading away from the main artery,and that even though they heard nothing it would be safe to assume thatthe gang was still upon the boy's trail. "And it's a bad bunch, too,"he continued. "I've known them all for years. The Sky Pilot has thereputation of never countenancing a murder; but that is because he is asly one. His gang kills; but when they kill under The Sky Pilot theydo it so cleverly that no trace of the crime remains. Their victimdisappears--that is all."
The boy trembled. "You won't let them get me?" he pleaded, pressingcloser to the man. The only response was a pressure of the arm about theshoulders of The Oskaloosa Kid.
Over a low hill they followed the muddy road and down into a dark andgloomy ravine. In a little open space to the right of the road a flashof lightning revealed the outlines of a building a hundred yards fromthe rickety and decaying fence which bordered the Squibbs' farm andseparated it from the road.
"Here we are!" cried Bridge, "and spooks or no spooks we'll find a
dry spot in that old ruin. There was a stove there last year and it'sdoubtless there yet. A good fire to dry our clothes and warm us upwill fit us for a bully good sleep, and I'll wager a silk hat that TheOskaloosa Kid is a mighty sleepy kid, eh?"
The boy admitted the allegation and the two turned in through thegateway, stepping over the fallen gate and moving through knee highweeds toward the forbidding structure in the distance. A clump of treessurrounded the house, their shade adding to the almost utter blacknessof the night.
The two had reached the verandah when Bridge, turning, saw a brilliantlight flaring