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PAGE 6

Blood Will Tell
by [?]

“What’s your business?” demanded the man with the flamboyant hair.

“I came here,” began David, “to wait for a train–“

The tall man bellowed with indignant rage.

“Yes,” he shouted; “this is the sort of place any one would pick out to wait for a train!”

In front of David’s nose he shook a fist as large as a catcher’s glove. “Don’t you lie to ME!” he bullied. “Do you know who I am? Do you know WHO you’re up against? I’m–“

The barkeeper person interrupted.

“Never mind who you are,” he said. “We know that. Find out who HE is.”

David turned appealingly to the barkeeper.

“Do you suppose I’d come here on purpose?” he protested. “I’m a travelling man–“

“You won’t travel any to-night,” mocked the red-haired one. “You’ve seen what you came to see, and all you want now is to get to a Western Union wire. Well, you don’t do it. You don’t leave here to-night!”

As though he thought he had been neglected, the little man in riding-boots pushed forward importantly.

“Tie him to a tree!” he suggested.

“Better take him on board,” said the barkeeper, “and send him back by the pilot. When we’re once at sea, he can’t hurt us any.”

“What makes you think I want to hurt you?” demanded David. “Who do you think I am?”

“We know who you are,” shouted the fiery-headed one. “You’re a blanketty-blank spy! You’re a government spy or a Spanish spy, and whichever you are you don’t get away to-night!”

David had not the faintest idea what the man meant, but he knew his self-respect was being ill-treated, and his self-respect rebelled.

“You have made a very serious mistake,” he said, “and whether you like it or not, I AM leaving here to-night, and YOU can go to the devil!”

Turning his back David started with great dignity to walk away. It was a short walk. Something hit him below the ear and he found himself curling up comfortably on the ties. He had a strong desire to sleep, but was conscious that a bed on a railroad track, on account of trains wanting to pass, was unsafe. This doubt did not long disturb him. His head rolled against the steel rail, his limbs relaxed. From a great distance, and in a strange sing-song he heard the voice of the barkeeper saying, “Nine–ten–and OUT!”

When David came to his senses his head was resting on a coil of rope. In his ears was the steady throb of an engine, and in his eyes the glare of a lantern. The lantern was held by a pleasant-faced youth in a golf cap who was smiling sympathetically. David rose on his elbow and gazed wildly about him. He was in the bow of the ocean-going tug, and he saw that from where he lay in the bow to her stern her decks were packed with men. She was steaming swiftly down a broad river. On either side the gray light that comes before the dawn showed low banks studded with stunted palmettos. Close ahead David heard the roar of the surf.

“Sorry to disturb you,” said the youth in the golf cap, “but we drop the pilot in a few minutes and you’re going with him.”

David moved his aching head gingerly, and was conscious of a bump as large as a tennis ball behind his right ear.

“What happened to me?” he demanded.

“You were sort of kidnapped, I guess,” laughed the young man. “It was a raw deal, but they couldn’t take any chances. The pilot will land you at Okra Point. You can hire a rig there to take you to the railroad.”

“But why?” demanded David indignantly. “Why was I kidnapped? What had I done? Who were those men who–“

From the pilot-house there was a sharp jangle of bells to the engine-room, and the speed of the tug slackened.

“Come on,” commanded the young man briskly. “The pilot’s going ashore. Here’s your grip, here’s your hat. The ladder’s on the port side. Look where you’re stepping. We can’t show any lights, and it’s dark as–“