"You mean dog!" interrupted Corrigan, bitterly. "You shall pay dearly for this;" and he grated his teeth together in rancor.

"I don't think you will be able to harm him for a good while," sagely remarked Farmer Farrell.

Corrigan became silent at once, and as each one was busy with his own thoughts, the rest of the trip was accomplished without further words.

On reaching the sh.o.r.e the party repaired at once to Farmer Farrell's place where Tim, glad to be home again, hitched up the team to the old family wagon.

"Is there a doctor anywhere near?" asked Jack; "I promised to send one over to the island."

"Dr. Melvin lives just up the road," replied the farmer. "We'll stop and tell him, and Tim can row him over. Do you hear, Tim?"

"Yes, sir," replied the farm hand. "To-morrow morning will do, I suppose."

"To-morrow morning!" repeated the farmer, in surprise. "No, indeed, right away. And if you can't get Dr. Melvin, go over to Dr. Dell's and take him straight to Pooler's cottage. Tell him that the man has a bullet in his shoulder."

Much as he disliked the job, the hired man did not dare to complain; so with a heavy sigh he set off on his errand, traveling through the dark as fast as his heavy boots would permit.

The family wagon contained two seats. Farmer Farrell took the front one, with Mosey beside him, while Jack, with Corrigan, sat in the rear, and then the horses were started on the road to Corney.

"We will stop at the old mill and get my model," said Jack, on the way.

At the old structure everything was dark and deserted.

"Say, Oi'll go along wid ye," said Mosey, as the young machinist dismounted from his seat. "There's something there Oi want to show ye."

Corrigan wished to interfere, but Jack, who believed that the Irishman was now really inclined to render a.s.sistance, would not let him.

"There are some papers that belong to Mr. Gray. Dennis stole them when the house was burning," said Mosey, when he and Jack were alone. "Oi can't read, but Dennis said they'd be worth money to us some day."

"Where are they?" asked Jack, with interest.

"Will you be aisy on me if Oi tell ye?" asked Mosey.

"Perhaps I will."

"Oi'll trust ye," replied Mosey. "They're up stairs, under the flure."

They ascended the stairs, and taking up a board that Mosey pointed out, Jack drew out a small, oblong packet.

"I can't read it now," said the young machinist. "Come along. If the contents are valuable I'll see that you get full credit for giving it up."

He put the packet in his pocket, and taking up the model, made the Irishman precede him down to the wagon. They were soon on the way again, the precious model safely stowed away in the front of the vehicle.

"I guess Mr. Benton will be rather surprised when he learns the true state of affairs," thought Jack to himself. "But his treatment of Deb was shameful, and I shall tell him so."

As they pa.s.sed an old barn near the outskirts of the town all heard a loud cry, the scuffle of many feet, and then the door of the place burst open.

"h.e.l.lo, what's all this?" exclaimed Jack. "Some one in trouble!"

Through the open doorway sprang a tall man. He was but partly dressed, and one side of his face bore a thick coating of black. He ran directly toward the road, and was followed by a dozen or more men wearing masks.

Seeing the wagon he made for it as fast as his legs would carry him.

"Save me, save me!" he gasped. "Get me away from these villains, and I will pay you well!" and in frantic haste he clambered over the wheel and into the front of the vehicle.

"What's the trouble!" asked Farmer Farrell in astonishment, while Jack took up the gun.

"They want to tar and feather me!" was the panting reply. "See they made a beginning;" and the excited individual held his face up to view.

"Mr. Gray!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the young machinist.

He had not time to say more, for at that instant Corrigan, taking advantage of the excitement, hit Jack under the chin with his head, and then leaped to the ground. In doing so he fell, but picked himself up quickly, and hopped as fast as he could down the road.

A second later the wagon was surrounded by the masked men, all armed and gesticulating wildly.

"Give him up, Willington!" they yelled. "Give up Gray, or we'll tar and feather the lot of you!"

CHAPTER XXVII.

"LOVE YOUR ENEMIES"--CONCLUSION

It was a thrilling scene, the brawny men, their intended victim, the would-be rescuers, all in confusion.

One of the masked men attempted to pull Mr. Felix Gray to the ground, but the tool manufacturer held fast to the front seat.

"Stop that!" roared Farmer Farrell.

"We want that man!" called out a person in the mob.

"No, no! Save me! save me!" cried Mr. Gray, frantically.

"We will not give him up," exclaimed Jack. "It's a shame to treat a dog in this fashion!"

"He threw us out of work. He won't give us our money. He wants to starve us and our families," called out several.

"Listen!" yelled Jack, as loud as he could. "Some of you know me. I work in the tool works; I haven't got my money, and need it as badly as any of you. But I say you'll never gain anything by acting this way.

Let Mr. Gray go."

"We want him and we're going to have him," exclaimed the man at the wagon, grimly, and he renewed his efforts to pull the tool manufacturer from the seat.

"You shall not," replied Jack, determinedly, and raising the gun, he hit the man a sharp blow upon the hand, which made him instantly release his hold.

"Go for 'em, fellows!" the man howled out, shaking the injured member in evident pain.