The Galloping Ghost by Roy J. Snell

  Chapter XXVIII THE LIGHT THAT FAILED

  "Red! Red! The light is gone!" Berley Todd's voice rang with tragedy.

  She had endured much that night, had this little daughter of the rich.She had rowed until she felt herself near to exhaustion when of a suddenshe had discovered that they were pursued. Getting her second wind, shehad rowed as she had never dreamed any one could row. She had dodgedbullets and battled a storm. Now the light from Passage Island that hadguided them all the way had failed. It was too much.

  "Red! The light is gone!"

  Somewhere in the dark, waves were dashing against rocks. The roar of itfilled her ears. Still their boat, tossed about, moved forward.

  "We must row." Three words escaped Red's tight set lips; no more.

  The roar of waters sounded louder. The boy changed their course. Theyglided from danger. Now and then the girl caught the gleam of a white-capwhen with the hiss of a sea serpent it broke close beside them.

  Then of a sudden the boy put all the strength of his splendid arms into adozen titanic strokes. They rose to the crest of a wave; another, yetanother and then as if by magic they glided out upon a sea of glass.

  The girl caught her breath. What was it? Had she fallen asleep? Was shedreaming?

  No, no. As if by pre-arrangement, the moon came out to shine upon a sceneof matchless beauty. A harbor, walled in on every side by steep, rockycliffs, lay about them.

  "This," said Red Rodgers, with a touch of the dramatic in his voice, "isthe harbor on Passage Island. We are safe!"

  Sinking down to a place in the prow, the girl allowed her head to dropinto her hands while she strove in vain to drive from her senses theceaseless roar of the beating surf.

  After a time she lifted her head to admit into her consciousness certainvital facts. Her feet were ankle deep in water, and had been for an hour;yet she had not known it. Her hands were blistered. Her arms ached. Redhad found a flashlight and had switched it on. They were nearing a shore.On the shore was a narrow dock and a boathouse. All this came to her asif she were a very small child reading it from a book.

  "This harbor," Red spoke at last, "is about a mile from the lighthouse.There is no safe landing there for such a night. The light is not out. Wewere passing along close to a rocky wall that hid the light.

  "There is a trail from this place to the lighthouse. And at thelighthouse there is a fire and blankets, food and good cheer."

  "Food and good cheer," the girl repeated after him as in a dream. "Thenwe will go there."

  They did go there, though the girl will not recall the long stretch ofpasture-like land over which they passed, nor the ridge they scaled todescend on the other side and to catch again the blinking rays of thatcheering light. She will not recall all this because she walked as one ina dream.

  At the lighthouse, besides two men, there was a woman, the head keeper'ssister. To her care Berley Todd was entrusted. When she had wrapped herin hot blankets and poured steaming broth down her throat, she bundledher off to bed where for long hours Berley dreamed of kidnapers, wildwaves and cracking guns.

  The Red Rover did not sleep. Never more awake in his life, he foundhimself in a position to act; and the Red Rover was born for actionalone. For days his immediate future, the possibility of getting back toOld Midway in the great game, his very life itself, had hung in thebalance. Now the balance had swung down. Fate had given him a break.

  As he stood outside the lighthouse, his mind still in a whirl, a shortchubby man with a beaming sort of smile approached him.

  "I am Pierre Gagnon. And you," he beamed afresh, "are the great RedRover."

  "That's what they call me," Red said quietly. "But that doesn't matter.Only one thing truly matters. How am I to get back to the city in timefor that game?

  "You see--" He was growing eager now; all the dull feeling of wearinesshad left him. He yearned for battle. "You see, a lot depends on thatgame. Not--not for me, but for others. There's the school, great OldMidway! It gave me a chance. Took me out of the steel mill and taught methe things I needed most to know.

  "Then there's the Grand Old Man, our coach. The cleanest sportsman theworld has ever known. And this is his last year, his last game. That gamemust be won!

  "There's the public, too. They're hoping against hope. They suppose thatI'll be there. They bought tickets to help out a great cause. They shouldget a show for their money.

  "So you see," he smiled grimly, "it's up to us, just you and me.To-morrow at two p. m. the team lines up. Seventy thousand people will becrying for victory. You should see it, Pierre, you really should! It'sinspiring!"

  "You'll go in an airplane," said Pierre. "You must. There can be no otherway. We have here a radio telephone. We can speak with Detroit, Chicago,any big city of the midwest. To-day there are airplanes everywhere. Itwill be easy. Come! We will send out the call."

  "The call. Wait!" Once again the boy's mind was in a whirl. "The call."It would be heard everywhere. Men would rush to newspaper offices to sellthe story. "_The Red Rover found!_" would be flashed across the country.The radio, the press, and after that every man, woman and child wouldtake up the cry: "_The Red Rover has been found!_" He thrilled at thethought, thrilled to the very center of his being. But did he want this?A voice deep within his very soul whispered: "No."

  "Wait!" His hand was on the arm of the genial lighthouse keeper. "Waitfor a time, at least."

  He recalled the sound of drumming motors that had struck his ears outthere while he and the girl still tossed upon the waters. "There may besome other way," he told himself. "No brass bands for me. If only I canslip back to the city unheralded; if I could take my place behind theline when the great moment comes; if only I could do that without eventhe Grand Old Man knowing! Oh, boy!"

  Once again he murmured, "Wait."