SAVING THE STAR.
As Daniel Bambo found himself covered by Longfellow Wadsworth’s pistol he shrank back in abject terror. He had a wholesome dread of fire-arms, and the stern look in the elocutionist’s face told him plainly that to expect mercy unless he did the correct thing was out of the question.
“Don’t--don’t shoot me!” he shrieked.
“Then tell me where Neka is,” repeated Wadsworth.
“He is in--in a house about half a mile from here.”
A groan from Dennis Groin interrupted the pair. The Irishman had had his leg broken and was vainly endeavoring to get away through the snow.
“Stop where you are!” ordered Longfellow Wadsworth, and with another groan, Groin tumbled down where he stood.
“See here, Wadsworth, let us try to--to fix this matter up,” whined Daniel Bambo, breaking down totally. “I didn’t mean the boy no harm.”
“Never mind that now. Take me to him.”
“Will you let me go if I do?”
“Decidedly not, Bambo.”
“But look here----”
“I won’t argue with you,” thundered the elocutionist. “Take me to where Neka is without delay. If you don’t----”
He finished by waving the pistol significantly, at which Bambo was nearly overcome.
“Come on,” faltered the ex-circus manager, at last, and moved along through the snow.
“Wait just a minute,” ordered Longfellow Wadsworth.
He had glanced back and now saw that Bindley was coming up swiftly in the other coach.
In less than a minute the stage manager was on the ground and much surprised to recognize Bambo. Seeing Bindley made the circus manager feel certain the game was up. In his mind he already saw himself serving a long term in prison.
“Keep your eye on that rascal, will you?” said Wadsworth, to the coach driver, and pointed to Groin. “We’ll pay you for your trouble.”
“All right, sir,” was the Jehu’s answer.
And while the others went off he assisted Groin into his coach and made him keep quiet on the cushions.
Bindley and Wadsworth went off with Bambo between them. It can truly be said that never had the wretch felt so miserable. He knew he had done wrong, and now the law stared him in the face.
“Who is in with you in this nefarious work?” demanded the elocutionist, as they proceeded.
Bambo was silent for a moment.
“Hank Maul,” he replied, finally.
He was not going to suffer alone.
“What! that would-be variety manager?” ejaculated Bindley. “Phew! but you are a pretty pair, I must say!”
“It was Maul’s idea,” exclaimed Daniel Bambo, eagerly. “I would never have carried Neka off on my own account.”
“Don’t try to crawl out of your end of it,” said Bindley, in deep disgust. “I reckon you’re as much to blame as any one.”
After this they trudged along in comparative silence. It did not take long to reach the old house in which Neka was confined, and Bambo led the way to the side door.
Their approach had been noticed, for as they walked up to the porch a figure ran from the kitchen door and down to the barn.
“It’s Maul!” shouted Bindley.
“Go after him!” returned Longfellow Wadsworth.
Bindley at once complied. Maul ran past the barn and threw himself over the back board fence. Bindley followed, and both disappeared.
The side door was locked from the inside, and so Bambo and Wadsworth had to walk around to the rear. As they proceeded Bambo’s face was a study. He was thinking of Maul’s possible escape and of his being thereby compelled to face the music alone.
“Walk in,” commanded Wadsworth, as the ex-circus manager paused on the threshold. “You can’t slip me here. Where is Neka?”
“In the back room up stairs.”
“Lead the way.”
With a groan loud and deep, Daniel Bambo did so. Up the stairs they went until the door to the back room was reached. The bolts were thrown back, and they entered.
It was dark, and Longfellow Wadsworth could see nothing within. But another’s eyes were on the alert.
“Wadsworth!”
“Neka, true enough!” ejaculated the elocutionist, joyfully. “Are you all right?” he added, anxiously.
“Yes, but terribly cramped.”
“Where are you? I can hear but not see.”
“Here, strapped to the cot. I got away once, and they have tied me so tight I can scarcely breathe.”
“Light a lamp or something,” commanded Longfellow Wadsworth, intending the words to Daniel Bambo.
Then he wheeled about. Bambo was gone! He listened and heard a step down in the kitchen, and then all became quiet.
Watching his chance, the ex-circus manager had made a dash for liberty at the time when Wadsworth was interested in hearing Neka’s cry.
Down the stairs after the fleeing criminal went Longfellow Wadsworth, his long legs doing heroic work so far as progress went. But when the kitchen-door yard was reached he halted. Daniel Bambo was nowhere to be seen.
He hunted around for fully five minutes without success. He was about to give up and return to the upper floor when Bindley came back.
“Got away,” said the stage manager, laconically.
“Worse than that, Bambo has escaped also,” replied Longfellow Wadsworth.
“Is that so? And Neka----”
“Safe up stairs.”
“Well, that’s something to be thankful for.”
The pair entered the house, and lighting a lamp, for it was now growing very dark, they proceeded upstairs. A few cuts from a pocket knife released Neka, and he slowly sat up and stretched himself.
“What time is it?” he asked of Wadsworth.
“Ten minutes to seven.”
“Almost time I was at the theatre, eh?”
“Bravo!” cried Wadsworth. “Yes, you’ll have to hustle if you want to go on. But are you able?”
“Will be after I’ve had a rubbing down and something to eat. But those two villains----”
“Escaped, both of them.”
“And that Irishman who was here?”
“A coachman?”
“Yes.”
“Down the road in care of another cab driver.”
“I see. Well, let us go. We can’t do anything here.”
“But this house?” asked Bindley.
“It is one that is let furnished--I heard Bambo say so. We can lock up, and that’s all,” replied Neka.
They went below, and Neka told his story. Soon they were on the way back to where they had left Dennis Groin. He was gone, and so was the cabman. Not till the next day did they learn that Groin had been taken to the hospital, where, later on, he was compelled to have his shattered leg amputated. As Neka thought this was punishment enough, the lad made no complaint against the man.
A quarter to eight found them at the theatre, and that night a performance was given as usual. Perhaps Neka’s act was not up to his usual standard of excellence, yet he drew round after round of applause.
On the following day the police were set on the track of Bambo and Maul, but day after day went by, and nothing was heard of the pair of rascals. The authorities came to the conclusion that they had left the metropolis, and after a while Neka and his friends were forced to agree with them.