“S’render, ye spalpeen!” he shouted. The criminal answered by viciously hurling the lantern into the face of his assailant, and in the act, the mask somehow or other was disarranged and slipped from its place. It was only a passing glimpse that Mike caught of him, but it identified him as one of the young men who had attacked Alvin Landon some nights before while passing through the stretch of woods near his home.
The throwing of the lamp was the best thing the burglar could have done, for it caught the Irish youth fairly between the eyes and dazed him for an invaluable second or two. Instant to seize his advantage, the criminal made a leap through the rear window, which he had left open for that purpose, and sped like a deer across the back yard of the premises. Mike was at his heels and shouted:
“Stop! stop! or I’ll blow ye into smithereens! I’ve got a double barreled cannon wid me, and if ye want to save yer life, s’render before I touch her off!”
Perhaps if the fugitive had not been in so wild a panic he would have given himself up, for no man willingly invites the discharge of a deadly weapon a few paces behind him. But the youth was bent on escape if the feat were possible and ran with the vigor of desperation.
Less than a hundred yards over the garden beds and grass took the fellow to the paling boundary over which he leaped like a greyhound. Mike would have done the same, but feared it was too much for him. Moreover, his short legs could not carry him as fast as those of the fleeing one. The pursuer rested a hand on the palings and went over without trouble. By that time the fugitive was a goodly distance off in the act of clearing a second fence. In dread lest he should get away, Mike called:
“Have sinse, ye lunkhead! I don’t want to kill ye, but hanged if I don’t, if ye fail to lay down yer arms.”
The appeal like all that had preceded it was unheeded. The burglar must have taken heart from the fact that his pursuer had already held his fire so long. Running with unusual speed, he took advantage of the shadow offered by several back buildings and continued steadily to gain. When he made a quick turn and whisked out of sight, the exasperated Mike dropped to a rapid walk.
“Arrah, now, if this owld gun was only in shape! there wouldn’t be any sich race as this, as Brian O’Donovan said—phwat’s that?”
When within twenty feet of a small barn, a burly man stepped out of the gloom and with a large gun levelled gruffly commanded:
“Throw up your arms or I’ll let moonlight through you!”