THE Man From Montevideo

Waikato Times, Volume 96, Issue 15356, 3 October 1923, Page 3

THE Man From Montevideo

(PUBLISHED BY (ARRANGEMENT).

BY T. C. BRIDGES.

Author of "Whoso Sheddeth," “The Price of Liberly," "The Home of Her Fathers," etc., etc. i (Copyright).

CHAPTER I. The Encounter.

The water was perfect, the breeze upstream, Peter Carr was putting his flies across the gently-rippling pools with his usual skill. Yet not a flsh would move, not the tiniest rise rewarded his best efforts. lie paused at last and glanced upwards scanning the sky, seeking for some solution of the mystery. Sure enough up over the craggy summit ol Omen Beam a fluff of snow-white mist was rolling like a monstrous ball of cotton wool. “Fog!’’ he muttered ruefully. “Hang the luck! That puts the hat on any chance of a basket to-day. I maj just as well give up now and go back home." He reeled up, fastened his tail fly into the lowest ring, and turning, tramped off up the steep hill-side. Before he was half way to the top the edge of the mist cloud enveloped him, cutting off his view of everything beyond a radius of forty or fifty yards. A stronger to the moor might well have been nervous, but Peter knew his way, and picked his patii among the

gave it too. He kept shooting short arm blows to the body, and some of them —he knew by Ills opponent’s face—rwere damaging. Once more the big lag dropped back breathing hard. It was only for a moment. Almost instantly he flow in again, this time to be met with a straight left that flattened his nose and staggered him. Peter resolved to risk it. He followed him up and ripped in blow after blow. But the great convict seemed made of iron. Peter could not knock him out, and now such pains were shooting up his leg as made him almost sick with a.»ony. To add to his troubles, one eye was closing, and into the other blood was streaming from a cut on his forehead. He was half blind.

i “Did the fellow hurt you?" he de- | mandcd anxiously. ! "No. He was trying to rob me. ’ But you?” "My ankle. I sprained it at the beginning. That’s the trouble. What are wo going to do? That sweep ought to be carted back to the prisdn.” "Never mind him." The girl spoke urgently. And Peter, beginning to recover, realised that her voice was perfectly delightful, and was matched only by the charm of her face. Her hair, of that reddish gold which goes with a perfectly clear complexion and deep blue eyes, had come down in the struggle and hung about her shoulders in a wonderful shining mane. “Never mind him," she repeated. Our house is quite close. If I help you can you get as far?” “I’ll try, anyhow. It’s not Otter’s Ilolt, is it, by any chance?” "Yes, that is where I live.” "Then you.arc Miss Lovell?” “I am Joyce Lovell. . But do not stop here talking. That horrible creature may come to himself, and you can’t llght him again." "I’m rather afraid I can’t,” replied Peter ruefully. “It’s about as much as I can do to stand. I say, are you sure you can help me? I’m awfully heavy.” “I am very strong,” ,she assured him. “You need not be afraid to lean on me.” She had not boasted. Slender as she was, Peter found that she was quite equal to the task. And this was lucky, for without her help he could not possibly have gone many steps. Otter’s liolt lay in a curve of the hill above the Arrow. It was a

grey boulders and thick gorse and heather with the light step of the trained athlete. Thicker and thicker the fog rolled down. The billowing waves at times nearly blinded him, then would lift enough to show his surroundings for a matter of a hundred yards or more. Beads of moisture formed on his rough Donegal tweeds, and dripped from the brim of his cap. A stone wall loomed through the smother. lie climbed it, and much to his delight found himself on the main road. “Good business!" he remarked quietly. “I didn’t waste many steps. And now for home and a hot bath, a

He knew he could not last much longer, and made a last bid for victory. Waiting his chance, he measured the distance with his left, then drove his right straight for the point. His list went home with a thud that jarred every nerve in his own body. The convict’s arms flew up, he swayed to and fro like a tree that is just sawed through, then crashed over on to the grass.

And Peter, in a very little better case, was only saved from following him by the girl, who springing forward, caught him in both arms, and lowered him gently to the turf.

CIIAPTEE 11. One Week’s Work,

During the next few misty moments Peter was only conscious that tiie girl was mopping the blood from his face with a totally inadequate hankerchicf, and crooning over him as a mother over a hurt child.

change, and a real creamy jammy tea." Peter had tramped a good many miles that day, and the prospect of a quiet evening over a glowing peat fire was distinctly pleasing. But before he had gone another quarter of a mile he was roused from his pleasant reverie by a shrill call for help. He pulled up short. The voice was a girl’s voice, but where it came from was somewhat doubtful. Fog plays queer tricks with cars as well as eyes. “Help 1 Oh —will no one come?" “Keep quiet—curse you!" was the low savage reply, and the girl’s voice was shut off as though a hand had clutched her throat.

This time there was no doubt in Peter’s mind about the direction from which Hic voices came, and lie was off down the road at the top of his speed. lie had not far to go. Barely a hundred yards further on ho came upon a tableau which might have been lifted straight out of a picture palace. On the broad strip of sheep-bitten turf beside tho road, a big, brawnylooking man was holding with both hands a girl who, by the look of her, had already put up a pretty good light. Tlic man was dressed in that particularly hideous garb which is worn only by Inmates of His Majesty's convict prisons, and which consists of a red and blue slop jacket, a Glengarry cap, and breeches and gaiters of a drab hue plentifully besprinkled with broad arrows, llis face, heavy-jawed strong and vicious, was not improved by a quarter inch growth of black stubble.

“Quiet —curse you!" Peter heard him growl again. “Give me what lou’ve got and I'll let you go. If you don’t I'll choke the life out of you.” Peter had won the welter-weight championship of his university in the previous year, and naturally was trained to keep his temper in emergency. But this was a bit too much, even for a boxer’s sang froid. Every drop of blood in his body boiled, and covering the last few yards in three jumps, he hurled himself upon the convict. Yet quick as he was the other was almost equally quick. He dropped the girl who staggered away against the wall, and spinning round was in time to meet Peter’s onslaught. Peter, confident in his own powers, went right at the fellow. It gave him a nasty jar when he found that the straight left which he had meant for the convict’s jaw, was deftly turned aside, while he himself had to guard a dangerous right swing. t The man knew more than a bit about boxing, and into the bargain was a good three inches taller than Peter and with a proportionately longer reach. Peter realised with great promptitude that this was not going to be any walk-over, and altered his tactics accordingly. Instinctively he fell into the crouching attitude of the trained fighter

Presently he pulled himself logeth-

The convict had left him little time to consider. Realising apparently that his antagonist was a boxer, he came in with a rush, trusting no doubt, to his height and bulk, to knock Peter off his feet.

The weight of his charge and the iron hardness of his body warned Peter that he was up against a very stiff proposition. He gave ground, and as ill luck would have it, caught his left heel on a loose stone, and trned his ankle badly. A sharp twinge of pain darted up his leg, he staggered, and the convict, seizing his chance, swung a weighty punch to his body. Peter as near as possible went down. If he had he certainly would never have been given a chance to get up again. But somehow he saved himself, and jumped sideways just in time to elude a tremendous upper cut. The convict over-balanced, and before he could steady himself Peter got his own back in the shape of a punch on the jaw which staggered his big opponent. It was a blow that would have put a weaker man out, but the big brute merely grunted, gave back a little, then came again more viciously than ever.

For the moment It was all Peter could do to save himself from the hurricane of blows which the lag rained in. His ankle was hurting abominably, and he realised that the stumble was likely to cost him dear. He was very anxious and uneasy. The convict, finding that he could not get home, retreated a step or two. He was blowing a little, a fact which gave Peter a gleam of hope. Now was the time for Peter to go in, but he did not trust his ankle, and was forced to wait for the next attack. It was not long in coming. In rushed the big lag. Not knowing Peter’s reason for standing on the defensive. he evidently fancied that he was funking .or over cautious, lie slugged for all he was worth. Peter stood his ground and slugged back, .lie JiatL-ia-ijis p ii?

charming old house backed by flue timber and with gardens stretching deeply to the water’s edge. But the log hid its beauties and in any case Peter was in no condition to appre- | ciate them. The journey, short as it was, took the last ounce out of him, and it was heaven to sink on to a deep springed sofa and get the injured leg off the ground. "Father is out," she told him as she rang the bell. "This gentleman is hurt. Fetch some brandy, please, and ask Mr Jasper to some here." "But what about the convict Miss Lovell?" put in Peter quickly. “He'll be getting away if someone doesn’t go after him." "I will see to that," Joyce answered. “The gardener and another man shall go and we will telephone the prison.” The butler hurried away, and next moment the door opened again to admit a slightly built, keen eyed young man who limped a little as he walked. He was darker than Joyce, but so like her in features that Peter knew him at once for her brother. Joyce quickly explained what had happened, and Jasper went off at once to organise the capture of the convict