_ CHAPTER XII. AN UNEXPECTED FRIEND
The moment Ronald Mason and his companion hurled Old and Young King Brady in the bed of quick-sand, they ran away.
Dodging behind the rocks, they hid themselves.
By this time the sun was rising.
Finding it impossible to extricate themselves from the deadly grip of the treacherous sand, the detectives ceased their struggles.
"It's useless, Harry," said the old sleuth, despairingly.
"If we remain passive, we'll soon sink beyond our depth, and perish."
"Yell at the top of your voice. Some one may hear us."
"Help! Help! Help!" shouted Harry.
They were shouting this way when Mason came from behind the rocks, pulled off his mask, and grinned sardonically at them.
Finally he said in sarcastic tones:
"Well, how do you like dying by inches?"
"This was cowardly of you, Mason," said Old King Brady, bitterly.
"It's my way of gaining revenge."
"Why don't you give us a fair show to fight for our lives?"
"Because you are so dangerous you might beat me."
"Help us out of here, and act like a man."
"I won't. See all the harm you've done me. In the first place, you've cheated me out of a fortune. In the second place, you prevented me from getting the girl I loved. In short, you've baffled me at every turn, after I made the most elaborate preparations to succeed."
"We did our duty."
"Oh, that be hanged! You'd kill me to do your duty, and I'm justified in ridding myself of such enemies as you two are."
"If you hadn't done wrong you would not have had us after you."
"Well, I know that very well. It's stale news. But I had an object in what I did, and you interfered and foiled me. I didn't do any one much harm, and----"
"You robbed Oliver Dalton and put him out of the way."
"Robbed him?"
"Yes. You pilfered money from the mail."
"How do you know I did?" asked Mason, with a startled look.
"Dalton employed us to expose you, and we'd been at his house on the night you and Johnson were posing in Thirty-sixth street as undertakers."
"The deuce! I didn't know Dalton knew."
"You admit, then, that you did rob his mail?"
"No use denying it now," laughed Mason. "I freely admit that I did get away with thousands of his dollars in that way. No use trying to conceal it. You'll never get out of there alive to prosecute me. And even if you do, you've got enough other evidence against me to send me up as high as a kite."
Despite his peril Old King Brady felt triumphant.
They now knew who the mail thief was.
By this time the Bradys were sunk in the quick-sand to their hips, and were unable to move in any direction.
They kept sinking every moment with horrible rapidity.
"Well, we can't arrest you now for that crime," said Old King Brady, "but I've got a feeling that we shall do so yet."
"Humbug! You are getting dopy. You can't escape from there."
"Are you going to abandon us to our fate?"
"Yes; I wish you a merry voyage over the River Styx!"
And with a mocking bow and a jeering laugh, he strode away.
The Bradys began to shout for help again, and Mason paused, and, darting an angry look at them, he shouted threateningly:
"If you don't shut up we'll shoot you!"
"So much the better," replied Old King Brady. "It will end our misery."
"Oh, we won't shoot to kill," growled the scowling rascal, "but we will riddle your carcasses with painful wounds."
"Mason, you're a fiend."
"Am I? That's a compliment."
And with a short laugh he disappeared in the bushes.
Once more the detectives began to call for assistance, for they now were sunk to their armpits in the sand.
Their voices sounded hoarse and smothered, and a despairing feeling was creeping into their hearts, but they kept on shouting.
Presently Mason shouted at them from the bushes in angry tones:
"Are you going to shut up?"
"No!" roared Old King Brady.
"Then I'll pepper you!"
And bang! went his rifle, and a bullet whistled by their heads.
"Keep on yelling, Harry!" gasped the old detective.
"Help! Help!" shouted the boy, obediently.
Bang! went Mason's rifle again.
The ball grazed Harry's cheek, and stung like a bee.
Just then the shots and yells were heard by an old track-walker of the railroad, and he rushed around the swamp shouting:
"All right! I'm coming!"
This unwelcome voice to Mason caused a look of alarm to flit over his pale features, and, fearing arrest, he sped away.
The villain calculated that the detectives would be buried out of sight long before assistance could reach them.
But the Bradys were cheered up wonderfully.
They kept on shouting, and the track-walker finally found them by being guided by the tones of their voices.
Only their heads stuck above the water.
He stared at the pair in astonishment a moment, and cried:
"What in thunder are you doing in there?"
"Buried in quick-sand!" gasped Harry. "Help us--quick!"
The old fellow was startled and rushed in among the trees.
For a minute the detectives thought he deserted them. But he soon reappeared with a sapling he had cut with his pocket-knife.
Standing on the embankment, he reached out the end to Old King Brady, who lifted his hands above the water and grasped it.
"Pull!" gasped the detective.
The track-walker used all his strength, for the sand clung to the old detective tenaciously, and dragged him up.
Around him the sand stirred up and the water bubbled and eddied as it rushed into the opening left by his body.
After a fearful struggle Old King Brady was dragged free of the sand, and drawn to the shore, panting and drenched.
Harry had sunk to his chin.
It was only by keeping his head thrown back that he kept his mouth above water, and his two hands were raised.
Quick to act, and paying no heed to his own exhaustion, Old King Brady grasped the pole and thrust it out to the boy.
Half gone, Harry took hold.
Between the old detective and the track-walker he was hauled up and pulled ashore in a half-fainting condition. It was some time ere he revived.
But when his faculties returned, and the old track-walker had been thanked, the boy told their benefactor all that had happened.
He was surprised and indignant.
"That man Mason is a devil!" he exclaimed.
"We'll make short work of him for this terrible deed," said Harry.
"And I wish I could help you."
Shortly afterward the track-walker departed to resume his lonely tramp along the road-bed with a sledge over his shoulder to replace any spike or frogs dislodged by the passing cars.
Left alone, the Bradys glanced at each other, and Harry remarked softly:
"Our time hasn't come to perish yet, partner."
"I felt sure of that, even before that man came to our rescue."
"We've found out now what a desperate man Mason is."
"And we'll have to resort to drastic measures to get the best of him."
"How do you feel?"
"In a good humor to fight."
"Then let's go up to the house and tackle him."
"He will be surprised to see us alive."
They were thoroughly rested now, and, having examined their pistols and found them in working order, they proceeded up the hill.
Within a short time they reached the house, and rang the front door bell for admittance.
George Scott, the big negro whom they had met at the gate when they were there before, opened the door and grinned at them.
"Hello, George!" said Harry. "How are you?"
"Right smart, sah, thank you," chuckled the darky.
"Is Mr. Mason in?"
"Good Lawdy, no," replied the colored man. "An' de blame rascal better not come in dis yere house, or I'll blow de roof ob his head off, sho's yo's bo'n. I done know all he's been a-doin', I does."
"Why, who gave you the news?" asked Harry, in surprise.
"Missy Lizzie, sah. She arrive heah ter-day, bress her heart, an' she seen yo' a-comin', an' done tell me fo' ter ask yo' right inter de parlor. She be downstairs in a moment, Massa Brady. Come right in, gemmen, come right in."
And he led the detectives into the parlor, flung open the blinds, and left the room.
In a few moments the door opened and Lizzie Dalton stepped into the room and approached them, with a smile and extended hand. _