The Waterbury Democrat. [volume] (Waterbury, Conn.) 1917-1946, 1937-01-14

One thing Bob was sure Of -
that Angelique was devoted to the
handsome Vasquez. Her flirting
with the other men was nothing
more than a gesture.
Carefully he skirted o boulder,
that rose on one side Of the trail
and waited a moment In Its shelter
to take stock Of his location. Was
that sound from behind only the
steady whine Of the wind Bob de-
cided his imagination was getting
the better Of him, and started on,
his thoughts once more on the
strange household he had left be-
hind.
There was the thin-faced archie
ologist, still lying In coma. How
did they know that he was what
he said? What If the professor
were only pretending that he
could not speak or move? And that
wooden-faced Indian who had
guarded the top Of the trail down
the canyon. Why a guard there,
anyway? And where was the Indian
now2
If the old lady had not died Bob
would have thought she had had
something to do with the death OF
her nephews. Maybe she did, at
that. She had not been one-half so
feeble and half -witted as she seemed.
He was convinced Of this and Betty
thought so, too. Betty - where was
she now? The thought lent wings
to Bob's feet, and he strobe ahead
with added speed.
Then he heard a noise and
turned quickly. Someone was coming
behind him. He listened minute,
decided it was more than one per-
son, and that they were coming
with all the speed Of familiarity
with the trail. Bob hurried his own
pace - then turned his ankle
against a fallen log.
The stab of pain made him dizzy
for a moment, but he hobblcd few
steps farther before he sank IN the
snow. Nearer and nearer came the
pursuers. Now they were just
around that last curve in the road.
If he had gun he might fight 1t
out, but, with one leg out Of COM
mission, what chance had he against
even one opponent
The next few minutes seemed an
eternity. Then a glow OF light
blinded Bob as someone with a
swinging lantern peered down at
him in the darkness. There were
three men together. At a curt
command from one Bob was sure
he recognized de Forests voice. an
Indian blanket was dropped over his
head and he was lifted and carried
up the trail by two stout Mexicans
again prisoner.
That journey back to the ha-
cienda lasted for a space Of time
which always remained uncertain
in Bob's mind, for, even when they
came to the level of the mesa, the
men did not stop minute. They
hurried on until apparently they
came to the house itself. Then Bob
felt himself being carried down
flight of stairs. After a few mo-
ments he was laid on floor and
heard de Forest talking in low tones.
Bob gritted his teeth, waiting to see
what would happen next.
He did not have to wait long.
Retreating footsteps told him that
the two men who had carried him
were departing, and now he had the
sensation that someone was leaning
over him, for blur of light came
through the thickness Of the blan-
ket. In a minute he was being
pulled through some kind of an
opening and bumped along a dirt
floor. The pain in his injured ankle
drove all else from his mind and a
groan escaped his lips.
Abruptly the journey ended and
he heard his jailer moving away,
though he had loosened the blan-
ket so Bob could breathe more
easily. After a while his ankle
stopped throbbing and he tried again
to get out of the blanket. He seemed
to be tied around the waist with
stout rope. That was why he could
not get his hands up to his pocket
where he had a knife.
After while he stopped struggling
and lay still, listening. Something
was creeping toward him, slowly,
softly, as though feeling the way in
the darkness. Had he been left
helpless to be devoured by some
Sinking animal? A cold chill OF
horror swept over Bob. This was
the climax of all the deForeSt cruel
ty. Now he was certain he had
fallen into the power of a mad man,