Dick Merriwell Abroad Part 27

A moment later he struck a match and soon lighted a candle, which he had brought in his pocket, wrapped in a paper.

The light thus provided showed the boys that it was a fortunate thing that d.i.c.k had halted just as he did. Barely a step before him the flooring had rotted and fallen away, leaving a great opening down to the bed of the stream below.

"I'll keep this candle going now," decided d.i.c.k.

The investigation of that portion of the mill did not consume much time, and it was productive of nothing but disappointment.

"It's a whole lot singular!" growled the Texan. "Partner, we know somebody was here a short time ago, for we heard the galoot groan and yell."

"There must still be a part of the building we have not searched," said d.i.c.k.

There was. They found a door leading from the hall into a short and narrow pa.s.sage, which was blocked by still another door. The second door was securely fastened.

Their efforts to open it in an ordinary manner were wasted; but while they sought to do so they were surprised and interested to hear a strange thumping sound issuing from some part of the building just beyond that very door.

As they paused to speculate concerning the meaning of that thumping, another startling and disagreeable thing happened.

In the hall behind them there was a flash, and the loud and deafening report of a pistol smote upon their ears. At the same instant a bullet clipped past d.i.c.k's ear and struck the candle in his hand, cutting it off close to the top and extinguis.h.i.+ng it.

Buckhart turned in a twinkling and answered the shot by firing blindly back into the hall.

The flash of his pistol blinded Brad, but d.i.c.k-who had also wheeled and was slightly to one side-plainly saw a man spring through a doorway and vanish from view.

Once more s.n.a.t.c.hing out his own revolver and warning Buckhart against shooting him by mistake, Merriwell darted back into that hall and followed the man through the doorway.

He discerned a dark figure just slipping out through the very window by which the two boys had entered the mill.

Although he was tempted to fire on the fleeing man, d.i.c.k restrained the impulse, permitting the unknown to escape.

"He's gone," he explained, in answer to the eager questions of the Texan, who had followed closely. "Let him go. I'm for finding out as soon as possible the meaning of the thumping sounds we heard beyond that immovable door. Let's look for something with which we may batter down the door."

In the mill section of the building they discovered a huge, rusty hammer, and with this they returned and attacked the door, d.i.c.k having relighted his candle.

The st.u.r.dy Texan begged the privilege of smas.h.i.+ng the door, and the old building resounded with the concussions of his blows. In a few moments he had beaten the door until it was split and ready to give way. A sort of fury seemed to possess him, and he soon smashed his way through the door and into the small room beyond.

d.i.c.k followed with the candle, the light of which showed them a human figure lying on the floor before them.

It was Professor Gunn, bound tightly with ropes wound and knotted about him and gagged in a manner that prevented him from making any outcry.

However, he had managed to thump the floor with his feet when he heard the boys outside the door, and now his eyes were filled with an expression of untold relief and joy.

d.i.c.k lost not a moment in producing a knife and slas.h.i.+ng at the cords which held the old man helpless. At the same time Brad removed the gag.

"Thank G.o.d!" mumbled Zenas weakly.

When they had freed him, he was unable to rise, so they lifted him between them and aided him from the room. Reaching the window by which they had entered, Brad sprang out, and d.i.c.k a.s.sisted Zenas in getting over the sill and lowering himself into the strong arms of the Texan.

Then Merriwell sprang out, drawing a deep breath of relief, for, regardless of the flight of the man who had fired the shot that extinguished the candle, he had feared another attack until all were clear of the building.

"Boys," half sobbed the old professor, "I knew you would come! I knew you would rescue me somehow! But it seems as if I have been in the power of those villains for ages."

"Where is Bunol?" asked d.i.c.k.

"Gone."

"Gone where?"

"He was here when they brought me to the place. He compelled me to tell him where he could find Nadia Budthorne, then he left me, with a single man to guard me until morning. With the coming of daylight the man was to get away, and I might have remained there until I perished from hunger or exhaustion if you had not come to my rescue. Oh, boys, you are jewels! You are the bravest, finest chaps in the world!"

"Bunol knows!" said Buckhart hoa.r.s.ely. "He accomplished his purpose!"

"But we'll baffle him!" cried d.i.c.k. "We'll send a warning to the Budthornes the first thing in the morning, and then-then away for Naples."

CHAPTER XVI.

SUNSET ON THE GRAND Ca.n.a.l.

Venice, and sunset on the Grand Ca.n.a.l!

Nowhere else in all the world is there such a sight. For two miles this magnificent waterway; the main thoroughfare of the most wonderful city in the world, winds in graceful curves, with red-tiled, creamy white palaces on either hand. At all times it is a source of wonder and delight to the visitor, but at sunset and in the gathering purple twilight it is the most entrancing.

So thought d.i.c.k Merriwell, as he lay amid the piled-up cus.h.i.+ons of a gondola that was propelled by a gracefully swaying, picturesquely dressed gondolier, one beautiful evening.

Brad Buckhart and Professor Gunn were in the gondola with d.i.c.k, and they, also, were enchanted and enraptured with the scene.

The mellow rays of the sinking sun touched the s.h.i.+mmering surface of the water, shone on the windows of the palaces, gleamed on the hanging balconies of marble, and made the Bridge of the Rialto seem like an ivory arch against the amber-turquoise sky.

There were many other gondolas moving silently along here, there, everywhere. On this great thoroughfare there was no rumble and roar of traffic. It was a street of soft silence, as Venice is the City of Silence.

"In a short time, boys," said the old professor, in a modulated voice, that seemed softened by the influence of his surroundings, "you shall see Venice at her best, for the moon will rise round and full. When you have seen Venice by moonlight, you may truthfully say you have beheld the most beautiful spectacle this world can show you."

"She ain't so almighty bad by sunlight," observed Buckhart.

"Ah, but time has worked its ravages upon her," sighed Zenas sadly.

"Once even the dazzling sun of midday could show no flaw in her beauty, but now it reveals the fact that, although she is still charming, her face is pathetically wrinkled. Ah! those splendid days of old-those days of her magnificence and grandeur-gone, gone forever!"

In truth, Zenas was profoundly moved as he thought of the past greatness and present state of this City of the Sea.

Still d.i.c.k remained silent. He was watching the sunset. Between him and the western sky seemed falling a shower of powdered gold, and yet this wonderful, golden light was perfectly transparent. Beneath the balconies and in the narrower ca.n.a.ls the shadows were growing deeper. Just then d.i.c.k thought that, no matter what disaster, what suffering, what sorrow might come to him in life, just to be there in Venice that night at sunset was joy and pleasure and reward enough to overbalance all else.

"Pard, are you dreaming?"

d.i.c.k turned his eyes toward the loyal Texan without moving his head.

"Yes, yes-dreaming," he murmured.