CHAPTER XXVIII.
"SOME TERRIBLE PRESENTIMENT IS WARNING ME THAT MY DARLING IS IN DANGER."
There never was a night so long that another day did not dawn—at last—and when the morrow's light broke, Halloran was slowly but surely collapsing—giving himself up to the horrible doom that awaited him—for the bear had not quitted his position under the tree, nor had he taken his eyes off his intended victim for a single moment.
As the sun rose, Halloran watched it with dazed, bloodshot eyes, exclaiming:
"Good-by, golden sun, I shall never see you set, nor witness you rise again upon another day. I—" the sentence was never finished, for over the snowy waste rang a voice like a bugle blast:
"Keep quiet, take heart, help is at hand; I am going to shoot the animal and deliver you," and simultaneously with the voice four shots in rapid succession rang out upon the early morning air.
There was a wild howl of pain, a terrible roaring bellow, a sudden dash toward a dark figure hurriedly approaching, two more shots, and the bear rolled over dying beyond power to harm, his red blood dyeing the white snow in great pools. Halloran knew no more. His strength and endurance seemed suddenly to leave him, darkness closed in about him, his hold loosened and he fell backward down, down through space.
He did not know that a pair of strong arms caught him, thus saving him from a broken neck. When he opened his eyes a few moments later, to his intense surprise he found Lester Armstrong bending over him, and the sight rendered him fairly dumb with amazement.
Before he could ask questions that sprang to his lips, Lester explained to him that owing to the dampness of the place, the fire Halloran had kindled had quickly gone out, thus saving the young man from being burned to death. He told him, too, why death had not come to him through starvation, as had been intended, and that it had taken him all that time to force apart the links of the chain, when he found that there was no one to hear or prevent, no matter how much noise he made in so doing.
He had seen the revolver, which had been forgotten, and little imagining it would be of such vital use, had thrust it in his pocket and started forth to make his way back to New York, when he unexpectedly came upon the scene of the bear under the tree, and a fellow-being in deadly peril.
"You saved me—me," cried Halloran, huskily, "your deadly foe, who tried to rob you of your life."
"It was my duty, 'Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord,'" quoted Lester, quietly.
Halloran fell on his knees, covering the other's hands with passionate kisses, tears falling like rain from his eyes.
"From this hour the life that you have saved shall be devoted to you—and God!" he cried brokenly. "Oh, will Heaven ever forgive me for the past? There are two bullets left in the revolver; you ought to shoot me dead at your feet, Lester Armstrong. I deserve it."
Lester shook his head.
"Do better with your life than you have done in the past," he said.
Halloran tried to rise to his feet, but fell back exhausted on the snow.
"I cannot walk," he gasped. "I—I am sure my limbs are frozen."
With a humane kindness that won him Halloran's gratitude to his dying day, Lester helped him to the railway station, and to board the incoming train, taking him to a hospital when they reached New York City.
Halloran had lapsed into unconsciousness, but Lester was too kind of heart to desert him in his hour of need.
The clock was striking five as Lester left the hospital.
On the pavement he paused, asking himself if he could go to a hotel presenting that soiled, unkempt appearance. Then like an inspiration it occurred to him that the best place in the world to go to was Mr. Conway's; and he put the thought into execution at once, reaching there nearly an hour later.
Mr. Conway and Margery were just sitting down to breakfast as he rang the bell of the humble little cottage.
Mr. Conway answered the summons.
The scene which followed can better be imagined than described.
It was hard to convince father and daughter, at first, that in telling his story he was not attempting to play some practical joke upon them.
That he had a cousin who so cleverly resembled him that even those who had known Lester intimately for long years should be so cleverly deceived by him seemed almost incredible. Margery hid her face in her trembling hands while her father gave Lester a full account of what had transpired, while the latter's emotion was great; and his distress intense, upon learning that Kendale had dared betroth himself to Margery in his name, and that the gentle-hearted girl had learned to care for the scamp, despite her repugnance to him at first.
Lester thought it best, under the circumstances, to confide in full to Margery and her father concerning his own love affair, lest they might expect him to carry out the contract his cousin had made in regard to marrying his old friend's pretty daughter.
Margery's next words, however, set his troubled heart at rest in that respect.
She looked up at him suddenly through her tears, saying shyly:
"There is another who cares for me, not knowing of this affair, one whom I once thought I could love. Yesterday he wrote me a letter, asking for my heart and hand.
"Last night I wrote him a reply, saying 'No,' and telling him why. I shall destroy that letter to-night, thankful enough that I did not have time to send it. And my answer will then be 'Yes.'"
"You have my best wishes for your happiness, little Margery," said Lester, adding smilingly: "And when; the wedding occurs, which I hope will be soon, you may, expect a very handsome present from me."
Long after Mr. Conway and his unexpected visitor had finished their simple breakfast, they talked over the strange situation of affairs, and what was best to be done to avoid great publicity.
"The bogus Lester Armstrong went to Beechwood last night," said the old cashier. "He probably will remain there, as is his custom, until to-day noon. You had better confront him there; meanwhile I will break the amazing story to those of the establishment whom it is absolutely necessary to tell. The rest of the employees and the public at large need never know of the glaring fraud that was so cleverly practised under their very eyes."
Lester had sprung to his feet trembling with excitement, at the information that Kendale had gone to the home of Faynie, despite the fact that Mr. Conway had assured him that Kendale was not married.
"Only yesterday he told me he contemplated marriage with a little heiress out at Beechwood, and if his wooing went on smoothly he would be a benedict in a few days' time—those were his exact words!" declared Mr. Conway.
"Thank Heaven the mischief has not yet been done," cried Lester, fervently.
He would have started for Beechwood at once, had it not been for Mr. Conway, who induced him to lie down for a few hours and take a little much-needed rest, explaining that he could not go in that apparel, and it would take some little time to secure suitable raiment, and renovate his appearance.
Lester yielded to his judgment.
Neither Mr. Conway nor Margery had the heart to awaken him, as hour after hour rolled by; he seemed so thoroughly exhausted and his deep sleep was doing him such a world of good, although the complete outfit which Mr. Conway had sent for had long since arrived.
It was night when Lester opened his eyes—imagining his surroundings for the moment but the idle vagaries of a dream.
Mr. Conway's kindly, solicitous face bending over him soon brought him to his senses, and a remembrance of all that had occurred.
"Oh, Mr. Conway! You should not have let me sleep," he cried. "I ought to have been at Beechwood hours ago; something in my heart—some terrible presentiment is warning me that my darling is in danger!"
"You are only fanciful," returned his old friend. "Anxiety makes you imagine that."
"I hope it may prove as you say," replied Lester, huskily, and in an hour's time he was on his way to Beechwood and Faynie.