Chapter V

Blindfolded, Kerwin had seen nothing, but the dazzle had pierced the covering of his eyes and he had felt the light, and he had _heard_. His head was like thistle-down borne on the wings of a zephyr. He attempted to move, to call out. A deadly nausea overcame him. He realized that he was fainting. Then, of a sudden, his melting senses took form again, as he heard a familiar voice cry:

"Kerwin, old chap!... By Jove! We'll fool 'em yet, if you hurry!"

And at that the handkerchief was torn from his eyes and he looked up blinking into the beaming countenance of Norse.

Norse did not wait to explain. He cut the twine binding his friend's hands and flung down the satchel within the circle of the lantern light.

"What are you looking at?" he asked, tersely, stooping to open the bag and noting Kerwin's steady gaze fixed upon him.

"_For Heaven's sake what have you got on!_"

"What ... got ..." And Norse burst out laughing.

"What have I got on?" he cried. "I've got on your dress-shirt---- Made me look more like a ghost." He whipped the garment off. "And now you get into it just as quick as you can!" he added.

For a brief moment a light of puzzlement lingered in Kerwin's eyes.

"Here's the collar and tie." Norse handed them to him. "And here's your dress-suit---- You see I overheard them talking it over---- I looked for you---- Then I came out here---- I'd a box of flash-light powder in my pocket---- That's all. I thought it was all up when they heard the satchel click. You see I'd opened it to get out your shirt. I had to put a good deal of trust in Providence!..."

"But Norsey...."

"Never mind talking! Hustle, man! Hustle!"

"I know, but...."

"There; there are your trousers.... Freeze if it wasn't for that stove, eh? Thoughtful of them, wasn't it? Here's your vest! What's the matter? Can't you button your collar? Scott, man, you've got to hustle! Touched her off just the right time, eh? Worked themselves all up talking about that other haunted.... Here's your coat! Say, you've got to hustle to make it; there's not over twenty minutes to spare!..."

"But, Norsey, it's no use. I can't get back to town in twenty minutes. Why, it will take two hours, walking over that crust...."

"You're not going to walk.--Gad! Here, let me tie that bow for you! Say, but you've got to hustle!..."

"Not going to walk! You don't mean to say you've got a carriage...."

"Hardly. Just time to get here myself."

"Well, I'd like to know, then, how...."

"_You're going to skate back to town, that's how--on my skates!_"

He rushed into the little room, and returning, held out his skates to Kerwin. Kerwin didn't seize them. He seized the youth's hand.

"Norsey," he muttered, with the faintest suggestion of a tremor in his voice, "you're the best old pal a chap ever had...."

"Oh, never mind the bouquets," Norse broke in. "Lemme see; you got all your clothes on? Those shoes are pretty bad for a swell function; but they'll be under the table. Yes, I guess you're all right. Take these skates and clamp 'em while I pack your other clothes in the satchel. Lucky you told me where you'd hid 'em.... Say, you've got to carry this bag back, Kerry.... I lugged it out."

"Of course, I'll carry it back; but Norsey"--Kerwin lowered his voice and glanced about him--"you don't suppose they're hanging around here somewhere, do you?"

Norse looked up from the packing. "Hanging around here!" he exclaimed. "Around _here_! Great Heavens, man! They're a million miles from here and runnin' yet if they're still alive and not scared to death. You ready?"

Kerwin slung the satchel over his shoulder. "Am I all right?" he asked.

Norse stepped back and regarded him curiously, a little smile playing around his mouth. Kerwin's face was very grimy. It looked almost black in the shadow above the white shirt-bosom, and there were three or four unmistakable smudges on that. Moreover it was a cold night for a man to skate three or four miles in evening clothes.

"My! You look funny!" Norse laughed. "But what's the difference?" he added. "Come on...."

Taking him by the arm he steadied him down the creaking stairs. "Now you can go it like the wind, right up to the door of Nickles," he said at the gate. "Are you ready?"

Kerwin dug the toe of his right skate into the crust and crouched like an animal about to spring.

"Go!"

For a moment his body was poised like a blot above the brow of the hill, then it disappeared.

Norse heard his name shouted. He ran forward and peered down.

"What's up?" he called.

"Nothing. I just wanted to say I'll suggest the toast 'The Kidnapping' and then you'll tell the whole tale. It'll make 'em look like a postage stamp...."

Norse laughed. "Why, I'm not going to your darn banquet," he said.

"Not going! The idea! You are, too, going."

"No, I'm not," Norse contended, "I've got something else to do...."

"What?"

"I've got to go over to Ypsilanti and tell Miss Green I can't take that picture of her room till next week. I'm as near there now as I am home...."

Before Kerwin could call to him again he turned on his heel and walked away.

Fifty yards along he glanced back over his shoulder. What he saw caused a sort of Mephistophelian grin to curve his lips.

Smoke, like a billowy veil in the moonlight, was rolling from the unboarded windows of the haunted house, and through the cracks he glimpsed the dance of flames.

"The stove must have been kicked over in the shuffle," he muttered, unctuously.

A moment he stood there watching the growth of the fire, then, resolutely turning his face to the east, he moved on down the icy road.

THE CHAMPIONS