CHAPTER VII
MARK IS CAPTURED
Eagerly the boys hurried forward, intent on making the best timepossible to the old Preakness homestead, which was a landmark for milesaround, and which, in its day, had been a handsome house and estate.Now it was fallen into ruins, for there was a dispute among the heirs,and the property was in the Chancery Court.
"Do you think we'll find him there?" asked Mark, as they made their wayalong the dusty highway. "Hard to tell. Yet, if he's hanging out inthis neighborhood, that would be as good a place as any, for him tohide in."
"I wonder who he can be, anyhow? And how he knows me?"
"Give it up. Evidently he isn't a tramp, though he stays in a placewhere there are plenty of the Knights of the Road."
The boys increased their pace, and were soon on the main road leadingto the Preakness house, and about a mile away from it. "We'll soon bethere now," remarked Jack. "Then we'll see if we can find that man."
As he spoke, the lad put his hand in his pocket, and, a moment later,he uttered a startled cry.
"What's the matter?" asked Mark, in some alarm.
"Matter? Why, gee whiz! If I haven't forgotten to send that telegramProfessor Henderson gave me! It's to order some special tools to takealong on our trip to the moon. They didn't come, and the professorwrote out a message urging the factory to hurry the shipment. He gaveit to me to send, just before the accident to the motor, but when thathappened it knocked it out of my mind, I guess. I stuck the telegram inmy pocket, and here it is yet," and Jack drew forth a crumpled paper."Wouldn't that make you tired?" he asked. "It's important, and ought togo at once. The professor won't like it."
"I'll tell you what to do," suggested Mark, after a moment's thought."The telegraph office isn't so far away from here. You can cut acrosslots, and be there in fifteen or twenty minutes. Tell 'em to rush themessage, and it may be in time yet. Anyhow, we're going to be delayedbecause of the accident to the motor, so it won't make so muchdifference. But come on, let's start, and we can hurry back."
"I guess that's the best plan," remarked Jack dubiously, for he did notfancy a half-hour's tramp across the fields and back again. Then, as hethought of something else, he called out:
"Say, Mark, there's no use of both of us going to the telegraph office.I'll go alone, as it's my fault, and you can stay here, and watch tosee if that strange man appears on the scene. I'll not be long, and youcan wait for me here."
"How would it be if I went on a little nearer to the Preakness house?"asked Mark. "I can meet you there just as well as here, and somethingmay develop."
"Good idea! You go on, and when I come back, I'll take the road thatleads through the old slate quarry, and save some time that way. I'llmeet you right near the old barn that stands on the Gilbert property,just before you reach the Preakness grounds."
"All right; I'll be there, but don't run your legs off. We're out forall day, and there isn't anything that needs to be done at home, oraround the projectile, so take your time."
"Oh, I'll not go to sleep," declared Jack. "I want to see if we can'tsolve the mystery of the man who writes such queer notes."
Jack started off across the fields at a swift pace, while Mark strolledon down the road, in the direction of the old Preakness house. He wasthinking of many things, chiefly of the wonderful journey that laybefore them, and he was wondering what the moon would look like whenthey got to it.
That it would be a wild, desolate place, he had no doubt, for theevidences of the telescopes of astronomers pointed that way, and, as iswell known, the most powerful instruments can now bring the moon towithin an apparent distance of one hundred miles of the earth. This istrue of the Lick telescope, which has a magnifying power of 2,500 andan object lens a yard across.
But, with this powerful telescope, it has been impossible todistinguish any such objects as forests, cities, or any evidences oflife on the moon--that is, on the side that has always been turnedtoward us.
Almost unconsciously, Mark went on faster than he intended, and, beforehe knew it, he had arrived at the barn where he had promised to waitfor his chum. Mark looked at his watch, and found that he would stillhave some time to linger before he could expect Jack to return. He satdown on a stone beside the fence, and looked about him. The day waswarm for fall, and the last of the crickets were chirping away, while,in distant fields, men could be seen husking corn, or drawing in loadsof yellow pumpkins.
"I wonder if we'll have pumpkin pie on the moon," thought Mark."Though, of course, we won't. I guess all we'll have to eat will bewhat Washington takes along in the projectile--that is, unless we findpeople on the other side of the place."
He sat on the stone for some minutes longer, and then, tiring of theinactivity, he arose and strolled about. Something seemed to draw himin the direction of the old house, which he knew was just around thebend in the road.
"I guess there wouldn't be any harm in my going along and taking a peepat it," mused the lad. "It will be some time before Jack returns, and Imay be able to catch a glimpse of our man. I think I'll go up where Ican see the place, and I can come back in time to meet Jack. I'll doit. Maybe the fellow might escape while I'm waiting."
Mark thus tried to justify himself for his action in not keeping to hisagreement with his chum. Of course it was not an important matter, Markthought, though the results of his simple action were destined to bemore far-reaching than he imagined. He thought he would be back in timeto meet Jack, and so he strolled on, going more cautiously now, for, ina few minutes he would come in sight of the old, deserted house, and hedid not know what he might find there.
Mark's first sight of the Preakness homestead was of two old stoneposts, that had once formed a fine gateway. The posts were in ruins,now, and half fallen down, being covered with Virginia creeper, theleaves of which were now a vivid red, mingled with green.
"Nothing very alarming there," said Mark, half aloud. He could justcatch a glimpse of the roof of the house over the tops of the trees,which had not yet shed all their leaves. "Guess I'll go on a littlefarther. Maybe our friend, the enemy, is sitting on the front porch,sunning himself."
Past the old gateway Mark continued, intending to proceed along thehighway until he got directly in front of the old mansion. There, heknew, he would have a good view, unobstructed by trees or shrubbery.
When the lad got to this place in the road, he paused, and stoopedover, as if tying the lace of his shoe, for it was his intention topass himself off, if possible, as a casual passer-by, so that in casethe mysterious man should be in the house, his suspicions would not bearoused by seeing the youth to whom he had written the note staring inat him.
And, while he was apparently fussing with his shoe, Mark was narrowlyeying the old house.
"Not a very inviting place," thought Mark. "I don't see why any man whocould afford anything better, would stay there--unless he has somestrong motive for lingering in this section. And that's probably whatthis fellow has, and I'd like to discover it. Well, I don't see anysigns of him, so I guess I might as well go back, and wait for Jack.He'll be along soon."
He stood up, took a good look at the house, and was about to retracehis steps down the highway, when he saw the sagging front door of theold mansion slowly open. It creaked on the rusty hinges, and Markstared with all his might as he saw a man emerge, a man who did notlook like a tramp, for his clothes were of good material and cut, andfit him well. Nor did he wear a stubbly growth of beard, but, on thecontrary, his face was clean shaven. The man was about Mark's size,perhaps a little taller, and nearly as stout. He stood on the saggingporch, and gazed off toward the road.
"Well, if that's the man Dick Johnson got the note from he's changedmightily in appearance," thought Mark, as he looked at the fellow. "Heisn't very tall, and he hasn't any black mustache. But of course he mayhave shaved that off, and I suppose in the dark, and when one is in ahurry to earn a quarter, it's hard to say whether a man is tall orshort. I wonder if this can be the person we're lookin
g for?"
Mark hardly knew what to do. He stood in the road, undecided, andfairly stared at the man, who had left the porch, and was walking downthe weed-grown path. He was looking straight at Mark, but if thestranger was the person who had written the note, and if he recognizedthe lad, he gave no sign to that effect.
"Good afternoon," said the man, as he paused at the gap in the frontwall, where once a gate had been. "Pleasant day, isn't it."
"Ye--yes," stammered Mark, wondering what to say next.
"Live around here?" went on the man.
"Not very far off."
"Ah, then you know this old shack?"
"Well, I don't get over here, very often. Do you live here?" venturedMark boldly, determining to do some questioning on his own account.
"Me live here?" cried the man, as if indignant "Well, hardly! I wasjust passing, and, happening to see the old place, and having afondness for antiques, I stepped in. But it is in bad shape. I shouldsay tramps make it their hangout."
"It has that name," said Mark.
There was a pause for a moment, and the lad was a trifle embarrassed.The man was gazing boldly at him.
"I guess I've made a mistake," thought Mark. "This can't be the man wewant. He doesn't live here, and he doesn't look like him. I'd better begetting back to meet Jack."
"Are you engaged at anything in particular?" questioned the man takinga few steps nearer the youth.
"No, I'm not working, but I expect to take a trip, shortly, with somefriends of mine," answered Mark.
"Ah, is that so?" and there was polite inquiry in the man's voice. "Areyou going far?"
"Quite a distance." Mark wondered what the man would say if he told himhe was going to the moon.
"I wonder if you would do me a favor?" went on the man. "As I waspassing through this old house I saw, on one of the outer doors, anold-fashioned knocker. I am a collector of antiques, and I would verymuch like to have that. But I need help in getting it off. I do notintend to steal it, but if it is left here some tramp may destroy it,and that would be too bad. I intend to remove it, and then hunt up theowners of this place, and purchase it from them."
"It will be hard to discover who are the owners," replied Mark, "as thetitle is in dispute."
"So much the better for me. Will you help me remove the knocker? I willpay you for your time."
Mark hesitated. He did not like the man's manner, and there was ashifty, uneasy look about his eyes. Still he might be all right. ButMark did not like the idea of going into the old house with him alone.It might be safe, and, again, it might not. But the knocker was on anoutside door. There could be no harm in helping him, as long as it wasoutside. The man saw the hesitation in the lad's manner.
"It will not take us long," the stranger said. "I want you to help mepry off the knocker, as I have no screw-driver to remove it. I will payyou well."
As he spoke he came nearer to Mark, and the lad noticed that the man'sright hand was held behind his back. This struck Mark as rathersuspicious. Suddenly he became aware of a peculiar odor in the air--asweet, sickish odor. He started back in alarm, all his formersuspicions aroused. The man seemed to leap toward him.
"Look out!" suddenly cried the fellow. "Look behind you!"
Involuntarily Mark turned. He saw nothing alarming. The next instant hefelt himself grasped in the strong arms of the man, and a cloth thatsmelled strongly of the strange, sweetly sickish odor was pressed overthe lad's face.
"Here! Stop! Let me go! Help! Help!" cried Mark. Then his voice diedout. He felt weak and sick, and sank back, an inert mass in the man'sarms.
"I guess I've got you this time," whispered the fellow, as he gazeddown on Mark's white face. "I'll put you where you won't get away,either," and, picking up the youth, he carried him a prisoner into thedeserted house.