For he had again seen Dick Merriwell.
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
THE ESCAPE.
Dick heard a cry and caught a glimpse of the figure which dropped back behind the bushes. Shouting to his companions, he whirled to the roadside and knelt over Lynch, whom he found stretched unconscious upon the ground.
When Mike revived he found them working over him, and the boy he had so bitterly hated, the boy he had fancied dead, was one of them.
“Take him away! take him away!” cried Lynch, struggling weakly and staring at Dick with unutterable horror. “He’s dead! Don’t let him touch me!”
“He means you, partner,” said Buckhart. “I sure reckon he’s some disturbed to see you alive and kicking.”
“He’s dead!” groaned Mike. “I killed him, but I didn’t mean to do it. I wanted to run him down and let him swim for it. That’s all. I didn’t think he would drown, but I killed him, and I’m a murderer! There, I’ve confessed it now! You all hear me—I’ve confessed it! I killed him! Hang me! I suppose they will. Don’t let him look at me like that. Take him away—please take him away! Don’t look at me, Merriwell! I can’t bear those eyes. I felt you following at my heels last night. I saw you when you appeared to us at Fred’s. Even after I locked myself in my own room I knew you were near. I couldn’t stand it long. It was too much for me. You’ve forced me to confess at last. You’ve made me put my neck in a noose. Now you should be satisfied.”
In vain they had tried to check his panting flow of words, but now Dick managed to make his voice heard, speaking quietly and soothingly.
“I’m no ghost, Lynch. I’m here in the flesh. You didn’t drown me. I’m glad to know that you didn’t really try to drown me. I couldn’t think that of you, revengeful as I know you to be. Look here, touch my hand and satisfy yourself that I’m living.”
But when he held out his hand to Lynch the fellow writhed and squirmed and rolled away, shrieking with fear until his lips were covered with froth.