CHAPTER XII.
INTO THE BOILING POT.
“That’s Mudd’s work, sure,” exclaimed Dick, and he pulled out the knife and picked the paper up, turning it over and finding the following written on the other side:
“Friends or enemies—which?—I swore to kill you. On certain conditions I am willing to let you live—$100,000—you understand—but we can’t get together by keeping apart. Shall I come to you or will you come to me? I shall be in this hut at midnight and alone and you must come alone if you want to meet me. It will pay you, Dick Darrell, and you need fear nothing. If you do not come I shall take it to mean that I shall come to you. It will be too late to talk about the $100,000 then, for when I come I come to kill. Yours any way you like to take me, Mudd.”
“Well!” exclaimed Charley, for Dick had been reading aloud, “that’s a most remarkable communication. What on earth does it all mean?”
“Rubbish!” cried Dick. “He must think I am a born idiot. Still it shows the fellow is watching us.”
“I don’t know about that. There may be more in it than you think for. Are you going to do as he says?”
“Well, I think I see myself,” laughed Dick. “If he wants to come to me let him try it. I’m ready for him.”
“I wouldn’t do it that way. I’d come to the hut and let me and Doctor Dan hang around somewhere. If we could once capture Mr. Martin Mudd his name would be mud for fair and we could find out then exactly what has become of the girl.”
“Well, I’ll think it over,” said Dick. “Come on now and let’s have a look at the boiling pot.”
This was the name the boys had given to the point on the lake which so interested Charley and they now went back into the boat and paddled along the shore until they came to the place.
The water was now as calm here as elsewhere and showed no signs of disturbance.
After pulling around a few moments Dick paddled ashore, declaring that he was going to look up the footprints of the monster and measure them.
“You don’t need any help, I suppose,” said Charley. “I’ll stay out here. I want to watch the pot.”
“They say a watched pot never boils,” laughed Dick, “but I’ve no objections to you trying to prove it. Of course I don’t need any help. It won’t take me five minutes, anyhow.”
So Dick hurried along the shore, while Charley paddled out on the lake again. There was no difficulty in finding the impress of the monster’s huge feet in the sand and Dick got out his rule and was in the act of measuring them when all at once a shout from Charley called his attention to the lake.
“She boils, Dick! She boils!” cried Charley.
“Look out!” shouted Dick, running down to the shore. “Don’t go too near. There may be some suction there.”
“By Jove, there is a big suction,” answered Charley, “and what’s more I’m right in it now.”
He commenced to paddle furiously and perhaps he thought he was making some headway, but Dick saw that he was not.
“Jump out, Charley!” he shouted. “Jump and save yourself.”
“I can do it! I can do it!” Charley replied, working the paddle more vigorously than ever.
Meanwhile the water was boiling furiously—more than it had done at any time yet.
Dick was terribly alarmed. He was standing now on a point of rocks directly over the boiling pot and all at once, to his horror, he saw the boat half double up and go shooting into the middle of this miniature maelstrom.
“I’m a goner!” yelled Charley, and he tumbled out of the boat.
But he was too late to save himself.
Like a flash the boat disappeared beneath the water.
Charley made a noble effort to save himself, but the suction was too much for him.
“Oh, Dick!” he cried suddenly, and then threw up his hands and was gone.
Dick hesitated just one instant—no more.
Without even stopping to throw off his coat he took a header into the boiling pot, disappearing like a flash.
It seemed a piece of mad folly.
How could he hope to rescue Charley under such circumstances as these?
But Dick never gave that a thought. He would have jumped in just the same if he had known that he was jumping to his death.
Down he went—down—down—drawn deeper every second by that terrible pull.
“I’m a goner,” he thought “I can’t help myself,” and his heart began to fail him as he was still drawn on and on, deeper into the boiling pot.