“Steady, Brad!” cried Merriwell. “You don’t want the blood of that dog on your hands!”
“I certain would like to know why!” retorted the excited Texan. “It would give me a heap of pleasure to bore him for keeps!”
“Let him go and——”
Dick stopped, for from the rattling carriage which had already vanished beneath the great tress that lined the road came wild cries for help, which were suddenly broken and checked.
“Great horn spoon!” palpitated the Texan. “Did hear that, pard?”
“I did, and it certainly sounded like the voice of Professor Gunn!”
“Just what I thought. You don’t opine——”
But already Dick was rushing back into the inn, and Brad quickly followed him. Up the stairs they leaped, assailed by a new feeling of fear.
The broken door of the professor’s room hung on a single hinge, just as the Texan had left it. The light of the glowing fire and of a single candle showed them the comfortable interior of that room, but they saw nothing of Zenas Gunn.
“Professor——Professor Gunn!” called Dick.