at once said:
"Yes, you are just the boy we want, as the captain says," and he gazed into the handsome, fearless young face before him.
"What do you want me for?" asked the lad.
"That you shall soon know, and if you serve us well, you will be well treated; but if not, then you will have to die, that is all," was the ominous reply of the man, as he seized the boy by the shoulder and dragged him through a door into a large room where were a dozen men, whose scowling faces were turned upon the lad with a look that was wicked and threatening. As he recalled the words of Jerry, the Night Hawk, and beheld the wild, evil looking men about him, the heart of the brave boy shrank with fear, for it needed no words to tell him that he had been led into some trap from which there seemed little chance of escape.
CHAPTER II. – An Oath to Win, a Vow to Avenge
THE scene of my story shifts from the city to the country. A young man, evidently city bred, was standing beneath the shelter of a woodman's shanty, while the rain poured in torrents, and sent little brooks surging like miniature rivers adown the hillsides.
It was in one of the most beautiful localities of the State of Maryland, where forest, stream, woodland and vale stretched away in picturesque attractiveness for miles, and where the broad fields of well-to-do farmers were filled with the golden grain.
The young man was clad in sporting garb, carried a gun, which he shielded from the dampness, and at his feet crouched a dog, while the game-bag hanging on a limb near-by proved the sportsman's skill.
It was approaching sunset time, and the storm had been raging for a couple of hours, the rain-fall being so heavy as to deluge the country, and make foaming torrents of mere rivulets.
"It is clearing now, and I will venture, for I would not like to be caught in the wood by darkness, as I would have to remain all night," and the sportsman gazed up anxiously at the clouds, breaking away in the westward.
He was a man of twenty-six perhaps, and his erect form, elegant manners and handsome face had won many a girl's heart.
A Philadelphian, and the ideal of society, he had run away from dissipation and comrades for a few days shooting in Maryland, and his first day of sport had been checked by the storm.
As the rain ceased falling he threw his game bag over his shoulder and started out upon his return to the little Cross-Roads Inn where he was stopping.
He had to pick his way carefully, and often, as it was, he went into water nearly up to the top of his boots.
At last he came to a rustic bridge, across a brook; but the brook was now surging beyond its banks, and driving furiously along.
"Ho, don't cross there!" cried a voice from the other side.
But the hunter heeded not the warning and sprang upon the bridge.
It was tottering, for its foundations had become undermined; but he hastened on; it trembled, swerved, rocked, and he sprang quickly toward the other shore, but too late, as before and behind him the spans were torn away, and the centre one, upon which he stood must go next.
"Ah! I cannot swim, and am lost!" he cried, in a tone of horror.
"I will save you," shouted the same voice from the shore.
Then followed the words: "Throw your gun and game-bag away, and spring clear of the wreck when I call to you."
The hunter tossed his fine gun and game-bag from him and nerved himself for the ordeal.
He saw the one who had called to him – a tall, fearless-faced young man – throw aside his coat and hat and plunge into the whirling waters, some distance above the bridge.
As he came sweeping down the bold swimmer called out:
"Now jump!"
The hunter obeyed, and sank beneath the foaming current; but, as he arose, his arm was seized by the swimmer, and at the same instant the tottering centre of the bridge gave way, and was swept after them.
"Don't be alarmed, but keep cool, and I'll work toward the bank with you."
"There, put your hands on my shoulders! That's right, and you are as serene as a May morn; so all will be well;" and the swimmer struck out for the bank, and at last caught the bough of an overhanging tree.
It blistered his hands to hold on; but he did so, and the hunter, who was perfectly self-possessed, also grasped the tree, and both clambered up the bank.
"I owe you my life, my man, and you have but to name your price," said the sportsman.
"Thank you, stranger, but I am not a professional life-saver, and money would not have tempted me to have gone to the aid of one who could not swim."
"But come, I was on my way to Miller Raymond's, and I can make bold to take you there, as I'm about one of the family, I may say, for I soon will be."
"The miller will send you over to the inn in his spring waggon, for I guess you're the city gentleman I heard was stopping there."
The sportsman saw that his bold rescuer, evidently a farmer, was one who had pride, and merited the treatment of a gentleman.
"I beg pardon for offering you money, but it could never repay the service, so we'll be friends.
"My name is Schuyler Cluett, and that I appreciate your saving my life you must know."
The young farmer, for such he was, grasped the outstretched hand, and said:
"My name is Kent Lomax, and I'm glad you begged my pardon, for it proves you to be the man I thought you when I saw your pluck in the water. You were as cool as an icicle. But let us move on, for we'll get cold staying here."
So on they went along the road bordering the stream, and just at dark, came in view of an old mill standing upon the bank, the water-wheel turning furiously, while up on the hillside was a handsome country house, that had the look of being the abode of one who enjoyed living.
"Well, Kent, you and your friend have been caught in the storm, that's certain," said an honest-faced old man, meeting them at the door.
"We've been caught in the creek, Miller Raymond; and this is Mr. Schuyler Cluett, a city gentleman, stopping at the Cross-Roads Inn, for a few days shooting, and I told him you would send him over."
"I am glad to meet you, sir; but I guess you'd better stay with us to-night, for we can rig you out, as well as Kent, and I've got a little apple brandy that will do you both good."
"I thank you, sir;" and then Schuyler Cluett added: "But let me say that my modest friend here failed to tell you that he saved my life, as the bridge went in with me, and I cannot swim a stroke."
"Ah! that is just like Kent; but here is my daughter, and he saved her life years ago in this same stream, when they were children together. Ruby, this is Mr. Cluett, whose life Kent has just saved; but hasten to lay out some of my clothes in the spare rooms, and tell your mother that we have guests to supper.
"Come, Mr. Cluett, you and Kent need a little internal warming up after your ducking," and the two young men dashed off a glass of apple brandy of the miller's own making, and then sought their respective rooms to change their clothes, for, after his eyes had fallen upon Ruby Raymond, the young sportsman
