A Young Inventor's Pluck Part 35

Max Pooler struggled to his feet. The movement caused him intense pain, and he uttered a sharp groan.

"We can't do as he wishes," said Jack to Mont. "He might die, and we would never forgive ourselves."

"I know it," replied the other. "But it will be a hard matter to separate him from his money. Besides what shall we do with Mosey and Corrigan?"

"That's a sticker. If we had a rope I 'd bind them tighter than they ever bound me."

"There's a rope in that chest," put in the miser, who overheard the last remark. "Tie 'em up--don't let 'em get away."

"It's sorry ye'll be for sayin' that," exclaimed Mosey. "Oi'll tell--hic--all----"

Corrigan caught him by the arm.

"Shut up!" he whispered in his ear. "Can't you see Max is excited? Let him cool down. You will be getting us into a heap of trouble presently."

The rope in the chest was long and heavy, and Jack picked it up with considerable satisfaction.

"You first, Mosey," he said, "and none of your fooling, mind."

"That's all roight, Jack, me b'y. Oi'll not run a shtep.

Never--hic--moind the rope," returned the Irishman in his oiliest tones.

"I won't trust you, Mosey," returned the young machinist firmly; and, a.s.sisted by Mont, he tied the man's hands behind him, and his feet in such a manner that he could barely take a walking step.

"Now your turn," said Jack to Corrigan.

"What are you going to tie me for?" asked that individual in pretended surprise. "I didn't shoot him."

"Perhaps not, but you were perfectly willing to have him shot. Come, quick. I'm not going to argue all night."

Corrigan saw that Jack's patience was exhausted, and that the young machinist was not to be trifled with. He submitted without another word.

"Well, what's to do now," asked Farmer Farrell, when the job was finished.

"Suppose we row them over to the mainland and march them to Corney,"

suggested Jack. "It's half-past eight now. We can reach there by ten."

"I'll get my wagon, and we can drive over," returned the farmer. "But what of this man here? We can't leave him."

"Carry him up to the cottage," put in Meg, who had thus far been a silent spectator of what was pa.s.sing. "There's medicine there, lots of it. It came from----"

Max Pooler glared at the girl.

"Shut up, will you?" he snarled. "How many times have I got to tell you to make you mind?"

"You can say what you please," replied the girl boldly, "and I will, too. I've left the island for good, and don't care what you do."

The miser turned pale with rage.

"What!" he cried, harshly. "Leave me! Why, you good for nothin'----"

In his anger he raised his wounded arm as if to strike. Jack sprang forward to defend the young girl.

But his caution was unnecessary, for at the same instant Max Pooler gave a sharp gasp of pain, and wavering backward and forward for a second, fell heavily to the floor.

Deb and Meg both gave a shriek, Jack and Mont turned the wounded man over on his back.

"Is he--he dead?" asked Deb. She was white, and trembled all over.

"No, only exhausted," replied Mont, after applying his ear to the miser's breast. "His pa.s.sions hold him completely under control."

"Then he is to be more pitied than blamed," said the girl, sympathetically.

The wound had again commenced to bleed. Mont adjusted the bandage that had become displaced, but this seemed to do little good.

"I will run to the cottage, and get anything you want," put in Meg, gazing with softened features at the unconscious form.

"All right," replied Mont, and he named several things which he thought might be used to advantage. "And don't forget plenty of linen, and some cotton if you have it," he added.

The young girl started off at once, and soon disappeared in the darkness.

Meanwhile the two prisoners were growing restless.

"Guess me and the man can march the pesky critters down to the boat,"

said Farmer Farrell, who was weary of watching the pair. "That is, if you don't mind going through the woods with us," he continued to Jack.

"Certainly, I'll go," answered the young machinist. "Will you stay here, Deb?"

"Yes, I may be needed," replied the girl. "We'll have to dress the shoulder when Meg returns."

A moment later the party started off, Mosey and Corrigan in the center, with the hired man behind.

Hardly had they left ere Max Pooler returned to his senses, and sitting up, suddenly looked around.

"Gone?" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed. "Did they leave my money? Did they leave me my s.h.i.+ning gold and silver?"

"Yes, it's all there, so don't worry," replied Mont gently. "You must keep quiet; it is bad for your shoulder when you move."

Max Pooler lay back, and eyed the young man suspiciously.

"You talk as if you meant well," he said, "but no one can be trusted nowadays. Who are you?"

"Oh, never mind that," replied the young man, "just keep quiet."

"But I want to know your name," persisted the wounded man.

"My name is Monterey Gray."

The miser leaped to his feet, his teeth clenched, and his eyes rolling frightfully.