"It's a lie!" he shrieked. "Monterey Gray is dead!--died years ago! He died on the yacht! I saw him. Oh, you can't fool me! His ghost is in the falls, but he is dead; and his gold and silver--oh, you can't fool me! This ain't his; it's mine, all mine!"

CHAPTER XXIV.

A GLIMPSE OF THE PAST

The miser's wild and unexpected revelation was certainly a most astonishing thing to Mont Gray. As we know, he had surmised that this strange man knew much of the history of the past, and he had already decided to put several questions to Max Pooler on the first available opportunity. But such a statement as he had just heard took away his breath, and he stared at the prostrate man, scarcely able to move.

Deb, too, was astonished, but, woman-like, paid more attention to the effect upon the young man than to what was said.

"Oh, Mont, isn't it awful?" she exclaimed, catching him by the arm.

"What makes you so pale? What is that man talking about?"

"I can't say, exactly," he replied, in an oddly unnatural voice. "My father's death is a mystery to me. This man can unravel it, I suppose, if he will," he added, as he knelt down, and turned Pooler once more on his back.

The face of the wounded man had lost all color, and his heart seemed to have stopped beating.

"If we only had some water it might help him," said Mont. "Although I can't make anything out of a case like this."

"There's a brook just outside," returned Deb. "Wonder if there is a cup anywhere around?"

In one corner he found a can, such as is used in preserving vegetables.

It was empty, and, taking it outside, she washed it thoroughly, and returned with it full of pure, cold water, with which they bathed the wounded man's head.

"He is suffering more from the excitement than from the pistol shot,"

observed the young man, as he worked away.

"I suppose being surprised by those two men was the start of it,"

replied Deb.

The miser was rapidly regaining his color, and his forehead felt like fire. Soaking the handkerchief in the can, the girl bound it over his temples.

Presently Pooler grew restless. He did not open his eyes, but moved his body from side to side uneasily.

"He is coming to," whispered Mont. "Perhaps you had better go outside.

He may become violent."

"Never mind if he does," replied the girl; "I think I ought to stay, and I won't care so long as you are here," and then, as Mont gave her a grateful smile, Deb suddenly blushed and turned away her face.

"My gold and silver! It's mine, all mine!" muttered Pooler to himself.

"Monterey Gray is dead, and it belongs to me, all, all, all!" He gnashed his teeth. "Oh, why did I go on that accursed yacht--evil is always sure to follow! My gold and silver! All mine!"

A long silence followed, broken only by the irregular breathing of the exhausted man.

"He has pa.s.sed into a stupor," said Mont. "How long it will last I cannot tell."

Presently Meg returned, carrying a number of bottles and bandages.

"Brought all I could carry," she declared. "Hope there's what you want there."

Deb looked over the list and fixed up a dose which Mont poured down the wounded man's throat.

Meanwhile, Meg picked up the scattered coins and tied them up in the various bags that lay upon the table. How much there was they could form no estimate, but it would certainly run up to thousands of dollars.

Evidently, Max Pooler had not dreamed of being surprised while counting over his h.o.a.rded wealth, and the demands of Mosey and Corrigan, who probably had some hold upon the miser, had led to an immediate quarrel.

While Meg was still at work, Jack returned, somewhat flushed from hurrying.

"We don't know what to do with those two men," he said, after taking a look at Pooler, who still rested quietly. "That hired man is afraid of his own shadow, and Mr. Farrell hardly thinks he can manage them alone."

"Suppose you go with them," suggested Mont. "I can get along here alone, and when you come back you can bring a doctor."

The young man's idea was thought by all to be a good one.

"But what will you do?" asked the young machinist of his sister.

"I'll do whatever you say, Jack," was Deb's reply.

"I'll stay here, if it's best," put in Meg. "I ain't afraid of anything on this island."

"Perhaps you had better remain, too, Deb," said Jack. "I'll be back with the doctor just as soon as I can."

"Wonder if we can't get this man up to the cottage," put in Mont. "He'd be much better off in his own bed than here."

"We can, but carrying may make his wound worse," returned the young machinist.

"It isn't that which worries him the most. It's his money and his conscience," declared the young man, as he eyed Pooler meditatively.

"Then come; we'll lock hands and make an armchair for him to ride in."

Not without considerable difficulty they raised the man between them.

He now uttered no sound, and his weight was that of a dead body.

Meg led the way, carrying the lantern which she had taken from the cave.

Deb brought up the rear, her overskirt weighted down by as many of the bags of the coin as she could carry, which Jack advised should be taken along.

It was a long and tedious walk, for the greater part in the dark. They rested twice, and both Mont and Jack gave a sigh of relief when they deposited their burden upon a temporary bed in the front room of the cottage.

"There, now you'll have to get along the best you can," said the young machinist. "I suppose Mr. Farrell is wondering what keeps me so long.

Good night all;" and off he went toward the sh.o.r.e.

Meg brought some extra blankets from the other beds, and Mont prepared a resting place for the unconscious man, placing the wounded shoulder in as comfortable a position as possible.

"You had both better try to secure a little sleep," he said to the two girls. "I can get along alone. If I need help I will call you."