Читать книгу The Smugglers' Secret - Percy Keese Fitzhugh - Страница 7

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“Is he hurt?” he asked hoarsely rushing over to the car.

Hal gasped, almost stunned. Despite the moustache he detected a certain nervous twitch in the young stranger’s upper lip. “He seems to have got it in the shoulder——”

“Blake’s my name, fellow,” said the other crisply. “We’ve got to get right out of here. There’s hunters around ... that’s where the shots came from.”

Hal blinked his deep blue eyes. Such bare-faced lying was beyond him. Hunters! Blake! But time was precious for Tony’s sake alone and it was evident that he was in a dead faint. He attempted to lift his friend tenderly.

“I’ll hold him—you take the wheel—if you can drive,” Blake added.

“Can’t you drive?” Hal queried.

“No—I can’t drive anything! Let’s get going. I’m sort of general utility man for old Mrs. Marsh. This her grandson Tony?”

“Yes,” Hal replied starting the car. “You know him?”

“No. She was expecting him and I just guessed. This your first trip up here?”

“Yes, so you’ll have to direct me. Far?”

“Not as distance goes up here, but far enough. Between that and going back to Hightown, Delamere Camp is the best bet. We can phone for a doctor right away and give him first aid. Hope it isn’t a bad wound.” Anxiety made his voice sound more hoarse than ever. “Hospital’s south of the town on the main road.”

Hal looked at him out of the corner of his eye and saw that the fellow was looking straight ahead into the darkness. There was not a sound save the soft purr of the throbbing motor. The little roadster was doing fifty-five despite the uphill climb and the rutty road. Nothing mattered but to get to Delamere Camp as quickly as possible.

Tony revived a few minutes later, dazed. Hal looked at him anxiously propped against Blake’s shoulder.

“Feel better, Tony?”

Tony managed a smile and a look of understanding spread over his face. “Mm,” he murmured, “I remember now. That bullet hit me, huh? I got it in my shoulder, I guess—it’s throbbing.” He turned his face and stared at Blake.

Hal introduced him. “Blake is your grandmother’s general utility man, Tony,” he explained.

“Oh,” said Tony. “You came along, huh Blake? You heard those shots?”

“Mm,” answered Blake. “I had to dodge them myself. The woods are full of hunters this time of year.”

Tony brought his hand up to his shoulder painfully. “You mean to say that was a hunter’s bullet that hit me!”

Blake’s dark eyes scanned Tony’s face a moment. Then he answered: “Sure. Who else?”

Tony leaned back weakly. “Then it’s time the game warden was notified. Hunter or no hunter—none of them should get the idea they can go round these mountains taking pot shots at everything. What do they....”

Hal instinctively stepped on the gas at the sound of Tony’s faltering voice. “Don’t talk,” said he feelingly, “it takes too much energy.”

Blake turned sideways in order to support Tony the better. He put both arms around the other’s body. “You won’t feel the jar of this terrible road so much,” he explained. “I can sort of hold you up from the bumping anyway.”

Hal smiled his thanks and asked, “Much further now?”

“No, about a half a mile,” Blake answered turning his head slightly and looking behind. His forehead was puckered in a frown.

“Tony’s right about notifying the game warden,” said Hal. “Hunters shouldn’t be allowed to pot shot and endanger human beings.”

“I know,” said Blake tersely, “it’s too bad you fellows happened to be there at just that moment. I’ll notify the game warden myself—soon’s we see how Marsh comes along. He’s not hurt so badly.” Then, as a glimmer of light shone through the trees, he said: “Here we are—just after we turn this next bend.”

“You mean you don’t want to notify the game warden if you can possibly help it, huh Blake?” Hal persisted.

Blake levelled his dark eyes upon Hal. “I guess you pretty well surmise what I’m getting at—er——”

“Keen’s my name,” Hal interposed.

Blake frowned. “I’ve my reasons, Keen,” he said in an undertone, “and I’m depending on you to respect them—for a few days anyhow. I just can’t tell you now—I can’t tell anybody, much less a game warden!”

“Then you stick to it that Tony was hit by a hunter’s wild bullet, huh?” Hal asked as they turned round the bend.

Blake nodded. “Here we are, Keen,” he said simply. “This is Delamere Camp.”

Hal brought the car to a stop before a long low rambling lodge and set his teeth determinedly. “So this is Delamere!” he said solemly.

“Yes,” Blake repeated in a voice strangely tense, “this is Delamere!”