The Mucker by Edgar Rice Burroughs
CHAPTER XVII. HOME AGAIN
BILLY BYRNE continued to fire intermittently for half an hour after thetwo men had left him. Then he fired several shots in quick succession,and dragging himself to his hands and knees crawled laboriously andpainfully back into the jungle in search of a hiding place where hemight die in peace.
He had progressed some hundred yards when he felt the earth give waybeneath him. He clutched frantically about for support, but therewas none, and with a sickening lunge he plunged downward into Stygiandarkness.
His fall was a short one, and he brought up with a painful thud at thebottom of a deer pit--a covered trap which the natives dig to catchtheir fleet-footed prey.
The pain of his wounds after the fall was excruciating. His head whirleddizzily. He knew that he was dying, and then all went black.
When consciousness returned to the mucker it was daylight. The sky aboveshone through the ragged hole that his falling body had broken in thepit's covering the night before.
"Gee!" muttered the mucker; "and I thought that I was dead!"
His wounds had ceased to bleed, but he was very weak and stiff and sore.
"I guess I'm too tough to croak!" he thought.
He wondered if the two men would reach Barbara in safety. He hoped so.Mallory loved her, and he was sure that Barbara had loved Mallory. Hewanted her to be happy. No thought of jealousy entered his mind. Mallorywas her kind. Mallory "belonged." He didn't. He was a mucker. How wouldhe have looked training with her bunch. She would have been ashamed ofhim, and he couldn't have stood that. No, it was better as it had turnedout. He'd squared himself for the beast he'd been to her, and he'dsquared himself with Mallory, too. At least they'd have only decentthoughts of him, dead; but alive, that would be an entirely differentthing. He would be in the way. He would be a constant embarrassmentto them all, for they would feel that they'd have to be nice to him inreturn for what he had done for them. The thought made the mucker sick.
"I'd rather croak," he murmured.
But he didn't "croak"--instead, he waxed stronger, and toward eveningthe pangs of hunger and thirst drove him to consider means for escapingfrom his hiding place, and searching for food and water.
He waited until after dark, and then he crawled, with utmost difficulty,from the deep pit. He had heard nothing of the natives since the nightbefore, and now, in the open, there came to him but the faint sounds ofthe village life across the clearing.
Byrne dragged himself toward the trail that led to the spring where poorTheriere had died. It took him a long time to reach it, but at last hewas successful. The clear, cold water helped to revive and strengthenhim. Then he sought food. Some wild fruit partially satisfied him forthe moment, and he commenced the laborious task of retracing his stepstoward "Manhattan Island."
The trail that he had passed over in fifteen hours as he had hastened tothe rescue of Anthony Harding and Billy Mallory required the betterpart of three days now. Occasionally he wondered why in the world he wastraversing it anyway. Hadn't he wanted to die, and leave Barbara free?But life is sweet, and the red blood still flowed strong in the veins ofthe mucker.
"I can go my own way," he thought, "and not bother her; but I'll bedinged if I want to croak in this God-forsaken hole--Grand Avenue formine, when it comes to passing in my checks. Gee! but I'd like to hearthe rattle of the Lake Street 'L' and see the dolls coming down thestation steps by Skidmore's when the crowd comes home from the Loop atnight."
Billy Byrne was homesick. And then, too, his heart was very heavy andsad because of the great love he had found--a love which he realized wasas hopeless as it was great. He had the memory, though, of the girl'sarms about his neck, and her dear lips crushed to his for a briefinstant, and her words--ah, those words! They would ring in Billy's headforever: "I love you, Billy, for what you ARE."
And a sudden resolve came into the mucker's mind as he whispered thosewords over and over again to himself. "I can't have her," he said. "Sheisn't for the likes of me; but if I can't live with her, I can live forher--as she'd want me to live, and, s'help me, those words'll keep mestraight. If she ever hears of Billy Byrne again it won't be anythingto make her ashamed that she had her arms around him, kissing him, andtelling him that she loved him."
At the river's edge across from the little island Billy came to a halt.He had reached the point near midnight, and hesitated to cross over anddisturb the party at that hour. At last, however, he decided to crossquietly, and lie down near HER hut until morning.
The crossing was most difficult, for he was very weak, but at last hecame to the opposite bank and drew himself up to lie panting for a fewminutes on the sloping bank. Then he crawled on again up to the top, andstaggering to his feet made his way cautiously toward the two huts. Allwas quiet. He assumed that the party was asleep, and so he lay downnear the rude shelter he had constructed for Barbara Harding, and fellasleep.
It was broad daylight when he awoke--the sun was fully three hours high,and yet no one was stirring. For the first time misgivings commenced toassail Billy's mind. Could it be possible? He crossed over to his ownhut and entered--it was deserted. Then he ran to Barbara's--it, too, wasunoccupied. They had gone!
All during the painful trip from the village to the island Billy hadmomentarily expected to meet a party of rescuers coming back for him. Hehad not been exactly disappointed, but a queer little lump had risen tohis throat as the days passed and no help had come, and now this was thefinal blow. They had deserted him! Left him wounded and dying on thissavage island without taking the trouble to assure themselves that hereally was dead! It was incredible!
"But was it?" thought Billy. "Didn't I tell them that I was dying?I thought so myself, and there is no reason why they shouldn't havethought so too. I suppose I shouldn't blame them, and I don't; but Iwouldn't have left them that way and not come back. They had a warshipfull of blue jackets and marines--there wouldn't have been much dangerto them."
Presently it occurred to him that the party may have returned to thecoast to get the marines, and that even now they were searching forhim. He hastened to return to the mainland, and once more he took up hiswearisome journey.
That night he reached the coast. Early the next morning he commencedhis search for the man-of-war. By walking entirely around the island heshould find her he felt sure.
Shortly after noon he scaled a high promontory which jutted out into thesea. From its summit he had an unobstructed view of the broad Pacific.His heart leaped to his throat, for there but a short distance out werea great battleship and a trim white yacht--the Alaska and the Lotus!They were steaming slowly out to sea.
He was just in time! Filled with happiness the mucker ran to the pointof the promontory and stripping off his shirt waved it high above hishead, the while he shouted at the top of his lungs; but the vessels kepton their course, giving no answering signal.
For half an hour the man continued his futile efforts to attract theattention of someone on board either craft, but to his dismay he sawthem grow smaller and smaller until in a few hours they passed over therim of the world, disappearing from his view forever.
Weak, wounded, and despairing, Billy sank to the ground, burying hisface in his arms, and there the moon found him when she rose, and he wasstill there when she passed from the western sky.
For three months Billy Byrne lived his lonely life upon the wild island.The trapping and fishing were good and there was a plentiful supply ofgood water. He regained his lost strength, recovering entirely fromhis wounds. The natives did not molest him, for he had stumbled upon asection of the shore which they considered bewitched and to which noneof them would come under any circumstances.
One morning, at the beginning of his fourth month of solitude, themucker saw a smudge of smoke upon the horizon. Slowly it increasedin volume and the speck beneath it resolved itself into the hull of asteamer. Closer and closer to the island it came.
Billy gathered together a quantity of dry brush and lighted a signalfire on the l
In breathless suspense Billy watched the movements of the steamer. Atfirst it seemed that she would pass without taking notice of his signal,but at last he saw that she was changing her course and moving directlytoward the island.
Close in she came, for the sea was calm and the water deep, and whenBilly was sure that those on board saw him and his frantic waving, hehurried, stumbling and falling, down the steep face of the cliff to thetiny beach at its foot.
Already a boat had been lowered and was putting in for land. Billy wadedout to the end of the short shelving beach and waited.
The sight that met the eyes of the rescuers was one that filled themwith awe, for they saw before them a huge, giant of a white man,half-naked except for a few tattered rags, who wore the long sword of anancient samurai at his side, a modern revolver at his hip, and bore inhis brawny hand the heavy war spear of a head-hunter. Long black hair,and a huge beard covered the man's head and face, but clean gray eyesshone from out of the tangle, and a broad grin welcomed them.
"Oh, you white men!" shouted the mucker. "You certainly do look good tome."
Six months later a big, smooth-faced giant in ill-fitting sea togsstrolled up Sixth Avenue. It was Billy Byrne--broke, but happy; GrandAvenue was less than a thousand miles away!
"Gee!" he murmured; "but it's good to be home again!"
There were places in New York where Billy would find acquaintances.One in particular he recalled--a little, third-floor gymnasium not fardistant from the Battery. Thither he turned his steps now. As he enteredthe stuffy room in which two big fellows, stripped to the waist, weresparring, a stout, low-browed man sitting in a back-tilted chairagainst one wall looked up inquiringly. Billy crossed over to him, withoutstretched hand.
"Howdy, Professor!" he said.
"Yeh got me, kid," replied Professor Cassidy, taking the proffered hand.
"I was up here with Larry Hilmore and the Goose Island Kid a year or soago--my name's Byrne," exclaimed Billy.
"Sure," said the professor; "I gotcha now. You're de guy 'at Larry was atellin' me about. He said you'd be a great heavy if you'd leave de boozealone."
Billy smiled and nodded.
"You don't look much like a booze fighter now," remarked Cassidy.
"And I ain't," said the mucker. "I've been on the wagon for most a year,and I'm never comin' down."
"That's right, kid," said the professor; "but wots the good word? Wotyou doin' in little ol' Noo York?"
"Lookin' for a job," said Billy.
"Strip!" commanded Professor Cassidy. "I'm lookin' for sparrin' partnersfor a gink dat's goin' to clean up de Big Smoke--if he'll ever come backan' scrap."
"You're on," said Billy, commencing to divest himself of his outerclothing.
Stripped to the waist he displayed as wondrous a set of muscles as evenProfessor Cassidy had ever seen. The man waxed enthusiastic over them.
"You sure ought to have some wallop up your sleeve," he said,admiringly. He then introduced Billy to the Harlem Hurricane, andBattling Dago Pete. "Pete's de guy I was tellin' you about," explainedProfessor Cassidy. "He's got such a wallop dat I can't keep no sparrin'partners for him. The Hurricane here's de only bloke wit de guts to staywit him--he's a fiend for punishment, Hurricane is; he jest natchrlyeats it.
"If you're broke I'll give you your keep as long as you stay wit Petean' don't get cold feet, an' I'll fix up a mill for you now an' thenso's you kin pull down a little coin fer yourself. Are you game?"
"You know it," said Billy.
"All to the good then," said the professor gaily; "now you put on themitts an' spell Hurricane for a couple o' rounds."
Billy slipped his huge hands into the tight-fitting gloves.
"It's been more'n a year since I had these on," he said, "an' I may bea little slow an' stale at first; but after I get warmed up I'll dobetter."
Cassidy grinned and winked at Hurricane. "He won't never get warmed up,"Hurricane confided; "Pete'll knock his block off in about two minutes,"and the men settled back to watch the fun with ill-concealed amusementwritten upon their faces.
What happened within the next few minutes in the stuffy little roomof Professor Cassidy's third-floor "gymnasium" marks an epoch in theprofessor's life--he still talks of it, and doubtless shall until theGreat Referee counts him out in the Last Round.
The two men sparred for a moment, gaging one another. Then Battling DagoPete swung a vicious left that landed square on Billy's face. It wasa blow that might have felled an ox; but Billy only shook his head--itscarce seemed to jar him. Pete had half lowered his hands as herecovered from the blow, so sure he was that it would finish his newsparring partner, and now before he could regain his guard the muckertore into him like a whirlwind. That single blow to the face seemed tohave brought back to Billy Byrne all that he ever had known of the manlyart of self-defense.
Battling Dago Pete landed a few more before the fight was over, but asany old fighter will tell you there is nothing more discouraging than todiscover that your most effective blows do not feeze your opponent,and only the knowledge of what a defeat at the hands of a new sparringpartner would mean to his future, kept him plugging away at the hopelesstask of attempting to knock out this mountain of bone and muscle.
For a few minutes Billy Byrne played with his man, hitting him when andwhere he would. He fought, crouching, much as Jeffries used to fight,and in his size and strength was much that reminded Cassidy of thefallen idol that in his heart of hearts he still worshiped.
And then, like a panther, the mucker sprang in with a vicious left hookto the jaw, followed, with lightning rapidity, by a right upper cut tothe chin that lifted Battling Dago Pete a foot from the floor to drophim, unconscious, against the foot of the further wall.
It was a clean knock-out, and when Cassidy and Hurricane gotthrough ministering to the fallen man, and indications of returningconsciousness were apparent, the professor turned to Billy.
"Got any more 'hopes' lyin' around loose?" asked the mucker with a grin."I guess the big dinge's safe for a while yet."
"Not if you'll keep on stayin' away from the booze, kid," said ProfessorCassidy, "an' let me handle you."
"I gotcha Steve," said Billy; "go to it; but first, stake me to a feed.The front side of my stomach's wrapped around my back bone."