The youth turned to flee; but the thought of the men tracking him from that direction brought him to a sud-den halt.There was only the road to the right, then, after all.Cautiously he moved toward it, and at the same time the words of the voice came clearly through the night:
"'...as, swinging heel and toe,'We tramped the road to Anywhere, the magic roadto Anywhere,'The tragic road to Anywhere, such dear, dim yearsago.'"The voice seemed reassuring--its quality and the an-nunciation of the words bespoke for its owner consider-able claim to refinement.The youth had halted again, but he now crouched to one side fearing to reveal his presence because of the bloody crime he thought he had committed; yet how he yearned to throw himself upon the compassion of this fine voiced stranger! How his every fibre cried out for companionship in this night of his greatest terror; but he would have let the invisible minstrel pass had not Fate ordained to light the scene at that particular instant with a prolonged flare of sheet lightning, revealing the two wayfarers to one an-other.
The youth saw a slight though well built man in ragged clothes and disreputable soft hat.The image was photographed upon his brain for life--the honest, laugh-ing eyes, the well moulded features harmonizing so well with the voice, and the impossible garments which marked the man hobo and bum as plainly as though he wore a placard suspended from his neck.
The stranger halted.Once more darkness enveloped them."Lovely evening for a stroll," remarked the man.
"Running out to your country place? Isn't there danger of skidding on these wet roads at night? I told James, just before we started, to be sure to see that the chains were on all around; but he forgot them.James is very trying sometimes.Now he never showed up this evening and I had to start out alone, and he knows perfectly well that I detest driving after dark in the rain."The youth found himself smiling.His fear had sud-denly vanished.No one could harbor suspicion of the owner of that cheerful voice.
"I didn't know which road to take," he ventured, in explanation of his presence at the cross road.
"Oh," exclaimed the man, "are there two roads here?
I was looking for this fork and came near passing it in the dark.It was a year ago since I came this way; but Irecall a deserted house about a mile up the dirt road.It will shelter us from the inclemencies of the weather.""Oh!" cried the youth."Now I know where I am.In the dark and the storm and after all that has happened to me tonight nothing seemed natural.It was just as though I was in some strange land; but I know now.
Yes, there is a deserted house a little less than a mile from here; but you wouldn't want to stop there at night.
They tell some frightful stories about it.It hasn't been occupied for over twenty years--not since the Squibbs were found murdered there--the father, mother three sons, and a daughter.They never discovered the mur-derer, and the house has stood vacant and the farm un-worked almost continuously since.A couple of men tried working it; but they didn't stay long.A night or so was enough for them and their families.I remember hear-ing as a little--er--child stories of the frightful things that happened there in the house where the Squibbs were murdered--things that happened after dark when the lights were out.Oh, I wouldn't even pass that place on a night like this."The man smiled."I slept there alone one rainy night about a year ago," he said."I didn't see or hear any-thing unusual.Such stories are ridiculous; and even if there was a little truth in them, noises can't harm you as much as sleeping out in the storm.I'm going to en-croach once more upon the ghostly hospitality of the Squibbs.Better come with me."The youth shuddered and drew back.From far be-hind came faintly the shout of a man.
"Yes, I'll go," exclaimed the boy."Let's hurry," and he started off at a half-run toward the dirt road.
The man followed more slowly.The darkness hid the quizzical expression of his eyes.He, too, had heard the faint shout far to the rear.He recalled the boy's "after all that has happened to me tonight," and he shrewdly guessed that the latter's sudden determination to brave the horrors of the haunted house was closely connected with the hoarse voice out of the distance.
When he had finally come abreast of the youth after the latter, his first panic of flight subsided, had reduced his speed, he spoke to him in his kindly tones.
"What was it that happened to you to-night?" he asked."Is someone following you? You needn't be afraid of me.I'll help you if you've been on the square.If you haven't, you still needn't fear me, for I won't peach on you.What is it? Tell me."The youth was on the point of unburdening his soul to this stranger with the kindly voice and the honest eyes; but a sudden fear stayed his tongue.If he told all it would be necessary to reveal certain details that he could not bring himself to reveal to anyone, and so he commenced with his introduction to the wayfarers in the deserted hay barn.Briefly he told of the attack upon him, of his shooting of Dopey Charlie, of the flight and pursuit."And now," he said in conclusion, "that you know I'm a murderer I suppose you won't have any more to do with me, unless you turn me over to the authorities to hang." There was almost a sob in his voice, so real was his terror.
The man threw an arm across his companion's shoul-der."Don't worry, kid," he said."You're not a murderer even if you did kill Dopey Charlie, which I hope you did.You're a benefactor of the human race.I have known Charles for years.He should have been killed long since.
Furthermore, as you shot in self defence no jury would convict you.I fear, however, that you didn't kill him.
You say you could hear his screams as long as you were within earshot of the barn--dead men don't scream, you know.""How did you know my name?" asked the youth.
"I don't," replied the man.