BURT L. STANDISH Ultimate Collection: 24 Action Thrillers in One Volume (Illustrated) - Burt L. Standish

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jail before I am lynched."

      "Before you are lynched!" gurgled the little professor, in a dazed way. "What have you done that they should want to lynch you?"

      "Nothing."

      "Pwhat do they think ye have done?" asked Barney.

      "I presume you have heard of Black Harry?"

      "Yes."

      "Well, they say I am that very interesting young gentleman."

      Small man though he was, Professor Scotch had a deep, hoarse voice, and he now let out a roar of disgust that drowned the stentorian tones of Hank Kildare.

      "This is the most outrageous thing I ever heard of!" fumed the professor, in a rage. "Somebody shall suffer for it! You Black Harry! Why, it is ridiculous!"

      Barney Mulloy seemed to regard it as extremely funny, for he laughed outright.

      "Thot bates th' worruld!" he cried. "But it's dead aisy ye kin prove ye're not Black Harry at all, at all!"

      "I don't know about that. I have been identified."

      "Pwhat's thot?"

      "I have been recognized by a person who has seen Black Harry's face."

      "Who is that fool person?" demanded Scotch, furiously. "Show me to him, and let me give him a piece of my mind!"

      "There is the person."

      Frank pointed straight at Lona Dawson, who was regarding him with horrified eyes from a distant corner of the waiting-room.

      "Thot girrul?"

      "The young lady?"

      "Yes."

      "Who is she?"

      "Miss Dawson, daughter of Robert Dawson, the banker, whom Black Harry shot during the train hold-up last night. Dawson tore the mask from the young robber's face, and she saw it. A few moments ago she declared that I was the wretch who shot her father."

      The girl heard his words, and she started forward, panting fiercely:

      "You are! You are! I will swear to it with my dying breath! I saw your face plainly last night, and I can never forget it. You are the murderous ruffian from whose face my father tore the mask!"

      Professor Scotch was fairly staggered, but he quickly recovered, and swiftly said:

      "My dear young lady, I assure you that you have made the greatest mistake of your life. I know this boy—I am his guardian. It is not possible that he is Black Harry, for——"

      "Were you with him last night?"

      "No. We were——"

      "Don't talk to me, then! Black Harry or not, he shot my father!"

      "But—but—why, he would not do such a thing!"

      "He did!"

      It seemed that nothing could shake her belief.

      "Av yez plaze, miss," said Barney, lifting his hat, and bowing politely, "it's thot same b'y Oi have known a long toime. Oi went ter school with thot lad, an' a whoiter b'y nivver drew a breath. He'd foight fer ye till he died, av he didn't git killed, an' it's nivver would he shoot anybody at all, at all, onless it wur in silf-definse. Oi give ye me wurrud thot is th' truth, th' whole truth, an' nothing but th' truth."

      The girl was unmoved.

      "I have sworn to avenge my poor father!" she declared. "He shall not escape!"

      "It is useless to talk here," said Frank. "She believes she is right, and her mind will not be changed till she sees the real Black Harry at my side. It must be that the fellow is my double, and so my life will be in peril till he is captured, and meets his just deserts. From this time on for me it is a fight for life and honor."

      CHAPTER V.

       HURRIED TO JAIL.

       Table of Contents

      At this moment another wild roar rose outside the station, telling that something had again aroused the mob:

      Hank Kildare was in the doorway, blocking it with his gigantic form, his long-barreled revolvers holding the crowd at bay, while he hoarsely cried:

      "You galoots know me! Ef yer crowd me, some o' yer will take his everlastin' dose o' lead!"

      They dared not crowd him. He could hold them back at that point, but there were other ways of reaching the interior of the waiting-room, where the prisoner was.

      "Ther back door!" howled a voice. "We kin git at him thet way!"

      "Hear that?" fluttered Professor Scotch. "They're coming, Frank! We must get out before they get in that way! Quick!"

      He caught hold of the boy, and started to urge him toward the rear door; but Lona Dawson placed herself squarely in their path, flinging up one hand.

      "Stop!" she cried, her eyes flashing. "You cannot pass! You shall not escape!"

      A look of admiration came into Frank's eyes, for she was very beautiful at that moment.

      "As you will," he bowed, gallantly. "I may get my neck stretched by remaining, but your wish is law."

      "Well, I like that!" roared the professor, in a manner that plainly indicated he did not like it.

      "Av ye choose ter make a fool av yersilf, Frank, it's not yer friends thot will see ye do it in this case!" cried Barney.

      The Irish lad grasped Frank by one arm, while the professor clutched the other, and they were about to rush him toward the door, for all of any opposition, when the door flew open with a bang, and a man pitched headlong into the room. This person carried a bundle, which burst open as he struck the floor, scattering its contents in all directions.

      "Moses in der pulrushes!" exclaimed the nasal voice of Solomon Rosenbum, and the Jew sat up in the midst of the wreck. "Dat vas vat I call comin' in lifely, vid der accent on der lifely!"

      "The dure!" shouted Barney. "They're coming round to get in thot way!"

      The frightened station agent thrust his head out of an inner office, and said:

      "The door can be braced. The brace is just behind it."

      Not a moment was to be lost, for the mob was at the very door, and would be pouring into the station in a moment. Barney sprang for the heavy brace, but he would have been too late if it had not been for the singular Jew.

      Solomon leaped to his feet, sprang for the door, and planted his foot with terrific force in the stomach of the first man who was trying to enter, hurling that individual back against those immediately behind.

      "Good-tay!" cried the Jew. "Uf I don'd see you some more, vat vos der tifference!"

      Slam! The door went to solidly. Bang! The bar went against it, being held in position by heavy cleats on both door and floor.

      "Holdt der vort!" rasped Solomon, with great satisfaction. "Dot was very well tone. I didn't vant dose beople comin' und drampin' all ofer mine goots. Id vould haf ruint me."

      The mob beat against the door, howling with baffled rage.

      "Thot wur a narrow escape, Frankie, me b'y!" said Barney.

      "That's what it was," admitted Frank, who realized that his chance for life would have been less than one in a thousand if the crowd had burst into the room.

      "Vell, I don'd sharge nodding vor dat, uf you puy a goot pill uf goots vrom me," said the Jew.

      "The window!" came from Professor Scotch. "They are about to come through the window!"

      Crash! Jingle! Jangle! The window was smashed, and the mob was seen swarming toward it.

      Suddenly, Solomon Rosenbum sprang toward

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