CHAPTER 18 OVER THE DRAWBRIDGE

Wasting no moments in useless conversation, Mr. Parker rented a fast motor boat and prevailed upon Harry Griffith to operate it for him. Guided by the stars and a half moon which was slowly rising over the treetops, the party swung down the river.

Riding with the current, they came before long to the locality where Penny and Jerry had first sighted the two seamen’s cruiser. But now there was no sign of a boat, either large or small.

At a speed which enabled the occupants to scrutinize the shoreline, the searching craft swept on. The river had never seemed more deserted.

“Jerry might have stopped anywhere along here,” Mr. Parker observed. “If he drew the boat into the bushes we haven’t a chance of finding him.”

They went on, coming presently to the Kippenberg estate. As they passed beneath the open drawbridge Penny noted how low it had been swung over the water. A boat with a high cabin could not possibly go through when the cantilevers were down.

Gazing upward, she saw a swinging red light at the entrance to the bridge. A lantern, no doubt, hung there to give warning to any motorist who might venture upon the private road.

“Thorny probably isn’t on duty at this hour,” Penny reflected. “But I should think an open drawbridge might prove more dangerous at night than in the daytime.”

As the bridge was lost to view beyond a bend in the river, she gave all her attention to watching the coves and inlets. Her father sat hunched over in the seat beside her, slapping at mosquitoes. Now and then he would switch on the flashlight to look at his watch.

Gradually the river had widened, so that it was possible to cover only one shore.

“We’ll search the other side on our return trip,” Mr. Parker said. “But it looks to me as if we’re not going to have any luck.”

As if to add to the discouragement of the party, dark clouds began to edge across the sky. One by one the stars were inked out. Penny’s light coat offered scant protection from the cold wind.

And then, Harry Griffith throttled down the motor and spun the wheel sharply to starboard. He leaned forward, trying to pierce the black void ahead of the boat’s bright beam.

“Looks like something over there,” he said pointing. “Might be a log. No, it’s a boat.”

“I can’t see anyone in it!” Penny cried. “It’s drifting with the current.”

“That looks like one of my boats, sure as you’re born,” Griffith declared, idling the engine. “The same I rented the young feller this morning.”

“But where is Jerry?” cried Penny.

Griffith maneuvered his own boat close to the one which drifted with the current. Mr. Parker was able to reach out and grasp the long rope dangling in the water.

“The flashlight, Penny!” he commanded.

She turned the beam on, and as it focused upon the floor of the boat, drew in her breath sharply. On the bottom, face downward, lay a man.

“It’s Jerry!” Penny cried. “Oh, Dad, he’s—”

“Steady,” said her father. “Steady.”

While Griffith held the two boats together, he stepped aboard the smaller one. He bent over the crumpled figure, feeling Jerry’s pulse, gently turning him upon his back.

“Is he alive, Dad?”

“His pulse is weak, but I can feel it. Yes, he’s breathing! Hold that light steady, Penny.”

“Dad, there’s blood on his head! I—I can see it trickling down.”

“He’s been struck with a club or some blunt object,” Mr. Parker said grimly. “He may have a fractured skull.”

“Oh, Dad!”

“Keep a grip on yourself,” her father ordered sternly, “It may not be as bad as I think, but we’ll have to rush him to the nearest doctor.”

“If it was me, I wouldn’t try to move him out of there,” advised Harry Griffith. “Leave him where he is. I’ll get aboard and we’ll take this boat in tow.”

Penny helped the man make their craft fast to the other boat, and then they both climbed aboard. Griffith started the engine and turned around in the river.

“I’ll head for Covert,” he said. “That’s about the closest place. There ought to be a good doctor in a town that size.”

While Griffith handled the boat, Penny and her father did what they could to make Jerry comfortable. They stripped off their coats, using one for a pillow, and the other to cover his body.

“Those two men he was sent to follow must be responsible for this!” Penny murmured. “How could they do such a brutal thing?”

“I’ll notify the police as soon as we touch shore,” her father said grimly. “We’ll search every cove and inlet until we find the ones responsible!”

As he spoke Mr. Parker bent lower to examine the wound on Jerry’s head. Blood had nearly stopped flowing and he was hopeful that it came from a flesh wound. He pressed a clean handkerchief against it and the young man stirred.

“How long do you suppose he’s been like this, Dad?”

“Hard to tell. An hour, maybe two hours.”

Presently, as the boat made full speed up the river, Jerry stirred once more. His lips moved but the words were indistinguishable.

“How far to Covert?” Mr. Parker asked anxiously.

“About four miles from this point,” Griffith flung over his shoulder. “It’s the next town above the Kippenberg estate. I’m making the best time I can.”

Jerry moved restlessly, his hands plucking at the coat which covered him.

“Flaming eyes,” he muttered. “Looking at me—looking at me—”

Penny and her father gazed at each other in startled dismay.

“He’s completely out of his head,” whispered Penny.

“He’s gone back to that other accident which happened last year,” nodded Mr. Parker. “The Vanishing Houseboat affair.”

“Jerry’s had more than his share of bad luck, Dad. Twice now on this same river, he’s met with disaster. And this time he may not come through.”

“I think he will if his skull hasn’t been fractured,” Mr. Parker told her encouragingly. “Listen!”

Jerry’s lips were moving again, and this time his words were more rational.

“Got to get word to the Chief,” they heard him mutter. “Got to get word—”

A long while after that Jerry remained perfectly quiet. Suddenly arousing, his eyes opened wide and he struggled to sit up. Mr. Parker gently pressed him back.

“Where am I?” Jerry muttered. “Let me out of here! Let me out!”

“Quiet, Jerry,” soothed Mr. Parker. “You’re with friends.”

The reporter’s tense grip on the editor’s hand relaxed. “That you, Chief?”

“Yes, Jerry. Just lie quiet. We’ll have you to a doctor in a few more minutes.”

“Doctor! I don’t need any doctor,” he protested, trying once more to sit up. “What happened anyway?”

“That’s what we would like to know.”

“Can’t you remember anything, Jerry?” Penny asked. “You went out on the river to try to trace those two men in the cruiser.”

“Oh, it’s coming back to me now. I ran into their boat down by Cranberry Cove. They tied up there.”

“And then what happened?” Penny demanded, as Jerry paused.

“I saw ’em walk ashore. Thought I would follow so I tied up my boat, too. They started off through the trees. Pretty soon they met a third man, a well dressed fellow, educated too.”

“Did you hear any of their conversation?” Mr. Parker questioned.

“I heard Kippenberg’s name mentioned. That caught my interest so I crept closer. Must have given myself away because that’s about the last I remember. A ton of dynamite seemed to explode in my head. And here I am.”

“Obviously, you were struck from behind with some heavy object,” Mr. Parker said. “They probably dumped you back in your own boat and set it adrift. You never saw your attacker?”

“No.”

Jerry rested for a moment, and then as it dawned upon him that he was being speeded to a doctor, he began to protest.

“Say, Chief, I’ll be all right. I don’t need any doc. Head’s clear as a bell now.”

“That’s fine, Jerry. But you’ll see a doctor anyway and have X-rays. We’re taking no chances.”

“Then at least let me go back to Riverview,” Jerry grumbled. “I don’t want to be stuck in any hick town hospital.”

“If you feel equal to the trip, I guess we can grant you that much. You seem to be all right, but I want to make sure. Can’t take chances on the paper being sued later on, you know.”

“Oh, I get the idea,” said Jerry with a grimace. “Thinking of the old cash register, as usual.”

Penny drew a deep sigh of relief. If Jerry were able to make jokes he couldn’t be seriously injured. She still felt weak from the fright she had received.

“The police will find those men who attacked you,” she told him. “I hope they’re put in prison for life, too!”

“The police?” Jerry repeated. He stared up into Mr. Parker’s face. “Say, Chief, you’re not aiming to spill the story, are you?”

“I was.”

“But see here, if you notify the police, we’ll show our hand to the rival paper. If we keep this dark we could do our own investigating, and maybe land a big scoop.”

“Justice is more important than a scoop, Jerry,” returned Mr. Parker. “If those men had anything to do with Atherwald’s disappearance, and it looks as if they did, then we are duty bound to hand our clues over to the police. By trying to handle it alone, we might let them escape.”

“Guess maybe you’re right at that,” Jerry acknowledged.

As she saw that the reporter was rapidly recovering strength, Penny left him to the care of her father and went forward to speak with Harry Griffith.

“Where are we now?” she inquired.

“Just comin’ to the Kippenberg estate,” he told her.

“Only that far? We don’t seem to be making very fast time.”

“We’re buckin’ the current, Miss. And there’s a right stiff wind blowing.”

She had not noticed the wind before or how overcast the sky had become. One could not see many yards in advance of the boat.

Ahead loomed the drawbridge in open position as usual. But Penny could not see the red lantern which she had noticed upon the trip down. Had the light been blown out by the wind?

In any case, it would not greatly matter, she reflected. Few cars traveled the private road. And any person who came that way would likely know about the bridge.

And then, above the steady hum of the motor boat engine, Penny heard another roar which steadily increased in intensity. A car was coming down the road at great speed!

“The lantern must be there,” Penny thought. “It’s probably hidden by a tree or the high bank. Of course it’s there.”

She listened with a growing tension. The car was not slowing down. Even Harry Griffith turned his head to gaze toward the entrance ramp of the drawbridge.

It was all over in an instant. A scream of brakes, a loud splintering of the wooden barrier. The speeding automobile struck the side of the steel bridge, spun sideways and careened down the bank to bury itself in the water.