Loe raamatut: «A Cousin's Conspiracy: or, A Boy's Struggle for an Inheritance», lehekülg 4

CHAPTER X
FOX ASTONISHED

Ezekiel Mason had been waiting for a hint from Luke, in whom he recognized a master spirit. His only hope was in his companion.

“Art thee Mr. Fox?” asked Luke in a tone of mild inquiry.

“I’ll let you know who I am,” was the swaggering reply.

Though he was but one man opposed to two he had no fears. The farmer was evidently cowed and terrified, while the Quaker seemed, though large, to be peaceable and harmless.

But in his judgment of Luke the outlaw was very much at fault. When threatening the farmer he had covered him with his revolver, but as he was preparing to leave the buggy he carelessly lowered it. Luke, who was aching to attack him, noticed this.

While Fox, for it was one of the notorious brothers, was standing in careless security, the Quaker sprang upon him like a panther upon his prey. He knocked the revolver from his hand, with one powerful blow felled him to the ground, and placed his foot upon his prostrate form.

Never, perhaps, in a career crowded with exciting adventures had the outlaw been so thoroughly surprised.

“What the mischief does this mean?” he ejaculated, struggling to rise.

“It means that thee has mistaken thy man,” answered Luke coolly.

“Let me go or I’ll kill you!” shrieked the outlaw fiercely.

“If you try to get up I’ll put a bullet through your head,” replied Luke, pointing at him with his own revolver.

In his excitement he had dropped his Quaker speech, and this the outlaw noted.

“Are you a Quaker?” he asked abruptly.

“No more than you are,” answered Luke. “Farmer, bring out the rope.”

Ezekiel Mason from the bottom of the buggy produced a long and stout piece of clothes-line.

“What do you mean to do?” inquired the outlaw uneasily.

“You will see soon enough. No, don’t try to get up, as you value your life. Now tie him, Mason, while I keep him covered with the revolver.”

“We’ve had enough of this,” said the outlaw sullenly. “Let me go and I’ll do you no harm.”

“I don’t mean that you shall, my honest friend.”

“But if you persist in this outrage I swear that you will be a dead man within thirty days.”

“Be careful how you talk or you may be a dead man within thirty minutes,” answered Luke.

While the outlaw was covered by Luke’s revolver Farmer Mason, though his tremulous hands showed that he was nervous, managed to tie him securely. Fox began to understand the sort of man with whom he was dealing and remained silent, but his brain was busy trying to devise some method of escape.

At length the dangerous prisoner was securely tied.

“What shall we do with him?” asked Ezekiel.

“Where’s the nearest prison?”

“At Crampton.”

“How far away?”

“Twelve miles.”

“In what direction?”

“It is four miles beyond Claremont,” answered the farmer.

“Where you live?”

“Yes.”

“Then we will go there first.”

“But how shall we carry – this gentleman?” asked the farmer, who could not get over a feeling of deference for the celebrated outlaw.

“We’ll put him into the back part of the buggy.”

By the united efforts of both the outlaw, like a trussed fowl, was deposited bodily in the rear of the carriage, where he lay in a most uncomfortable position, jolted and shaken whenever the road was rough or uneven.

“You’ll repent this outrage,” he said fiercely.

“Doesn’t thee like it?” asked Luke, relapsing into his Quaker dialect.

“Curse you and your Quaker lingo!” retorted Fox, his black eyes sparkling vindictively.

“It wouldn’t do thee any harm to turn Quaker thyself,” suggested Luke.

“I’ll be bruised to death before the ride is over,” growled the outlaw.

“There is one way of saving you the discomfort of the ride.”

“What is that?”

“I might shoot you through the head. As the reward is the same whether I deliver you alive or dead I have a great mind to do it.”

The outlaw was made still more uncomfortable by these words. He had wholly misunderstood Luke at first, and the revelation of his real character had impressed him not only with respect but fear. He did not know of what this pseudo Quaker might be capable. He longed in some way to get out of his power. Force was impracticable, and he resolved to resort to finesse.

“Look here, my friend,” he began.

“So you regard me as a friend? Thank you, Brother Fox; I won’t forget it.”

“Oh, bother your nonsense! I suppose you are after the thousand dollars offered for my apprehension.”

“You have guessed right the first time. I am not a rich man, and I don’t mind telling you that a thousand dollars will be particularly acceptable just about now.”

“So I suppose. You don’t feel particularly unfriendly to me?”

“Oh, no. I might under different circumstances come to love you like a brother.”

“Or join my band?”

“Well, no; I draw the line there. As a Quaker I could not consistently join a band of robbers.”

“Who are you?” asked Fox abruptly. “You weren’t raised around here.”

“No.”

“Where, then?”

“I came from Iowa.”

“What is your name?”

“My friend, I haven’t any visiting cards with me. You can think of me as the Quaker detective.”

“Then I will come to business. You want a thousand dollars?”

“You are correct there.”

“Then I will show you a way to get it.”

“I know one way already.”

“You mean by delivering me up?”

“Yes.”

“That would not suit me. Let me go and I will give you a thousand dollars.”

“Have you got it with you?”

“No, but I can arrange to give it to you within a week. You see,” added the outlaw dryly, “I have been prosperous in my business and can spare that sum in return for giving me my liberty.”

“I am afraid, friend Fox, that my chance of securing the money in that way would be slender.”

“I am a man of my word. What I promise, I will do.”

“If you have so much money, why did you want to take the five hundred dollars of my friend here?”

“It was all in the way of business. Well, what do you say?”

“That I won’t trust you. If I should take your thousand dollars for releasing you I should be as bad as you are.”

“Very well; drive on then,” said the outlaw sullenly.

In less than an hour Ezekiel Mason’s home was reached. When they drove into the yard it made quite a sensation. Mrs. Mason and the hired man stood with mouths agape.

“Who have you got there, Ezekiel?” asked his wife.

“One of the Fox brothers!” answered the farmer in an important tone. “Me and my friend here took him.”

Luke smiled and so did the prisoner, uncomfortable though he was.

“It would have taken a dozen like that fool to have captured me,” he said in a low voice, but only Luke heard him.

CHAPTER XI
UNDER WATCH AND WARD

THE farmhouse was built after the model of many similar houses in New England. It was of two stories, with the front door in the center and a room on each side. Over the two stories was an unfurnished attic.

“Have you a secure place to keep our friend here?” asked Luke.

The farmer paused before he answered.

“I might put him in the attic,” he said.

But here his wife interfered.

“I couldn’t sleep if he were in the house,” she said.

“Why not?” asked Luke. “You see he is securely bound and will be as helpless as a child. Will you show me the attic?”

“Follow me,” said the farmer.

They went up two flights of stairs and found themselves in a long room, the whole width of the house. Through the center rose the chimney. The sloping roof was not plastered. The only furniture consisted of a cot bedstead and a chair.

“Is the attic occupied by any of the family?” asked Luke.

“Not generally. When I hire an extra hand at harvest time he sleeps there.”

“But at present there is no one occupying it?”

“No.”

“Then I suggest that the bed will prove a good resting place for our friend below. I have no doubt he has often found himself in lodgings less comfortable.”

“But,” said Mrs. Mason nervously, “if he should get free during the night he might murder us all in our beds.”

“There is little chance of that. When your husband bound him he did a good job. I wouldn’t undertake to get free myself if I were bound as securely.”

“That’s so!” said the farmer, pleased with the compliment. “He can’t get away nohow.”

Over in the corner there were a couple of horse blankets which seemed to offer a comfortable resting-place. Luke Robbins eyed them thoughtfully.

“I have an idea,” he said. “Let the outlaw lie there and one of us can occupy the bed. Then he won’t be able to try any of his tricks.”

“I would rather not sleep there,” observed the farmer nervously. “I couldn’t sleep in the same room with one of the Fox brothers.”

“Then if you couldn’t sleep there you are just the man we want. You will always be on the watch and can frustrate any attempt to escape.”

“No, no,” said Ezekiel Mason hurriedly. “Kate could not close her eyes if she thought I were alone with John Fox.”

“No,” answered Mrs. Mason with a shudder, “I won’t let Ezekiel sleep in the same room with that bold, bad man.”

“I wouldn’t be afraid myself,” said the farmer, trying to keep up his reputation for courage, “but I don’t want my wife to be anxious.”

Luke Robbins smiled, for he understood very well the timidity of his host. “Then,” he said, “as I have no wife to be anxious about me, perhaps I had better sleep here.”

“Yes, that will be much better,” rejoined the relieved farmer. “You are a brave man. Mr. Fox won’t get the better of you.”

“Not if I can help it,” said Luke. “Will that suit you, Mrs. Mason?”

“Why don’t you take him on to the jail at once?” asked the woman. “I shall feel worried if he spends the night in this house.”

“I hear that he has escaped from jail no less than three times. If he should do so to-night he would at once come here and perhaps bring some of his band with him. He knows there is a good sum of money in the house.”

“I shall be glad when it is paid out,” said the farmer’s wife.

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Mason. I have promised your husband that no harm should come to him, and that the money should be secure and I will keep my word.”

“So you did,” said Ezekiel, brightening up, “and I will pay you what I agreed if you keep your promise.”

“Friend Mason,” responded Luke, “I am playing for higher stakes than five dollars. All depends on my keeping this outlaw secure. I mean to do it.”

Having settled matters they went downstairs again, where they found their prisoner waiting impatiently for their reappearance.

“Well,” he said, “have you decided to let me go?”

“I am sorry to disappoint you, my friend,” answered Luke, “but I don’t see my way clear to do so.”

“I promised you a thousand dollars if you would release me.”

“Yes, but I haven’t any confidence in that promise.”

“You need not fear. In three days I would bring or send the money to you here.”

“Couldn’t you oblige me with a check on the bank where you keep your money?” asked Luke smiling.

“I keep my money in several banks,” returned the outlaw.

“Where, for instance?”

“I had some in the bank at Lee’s Falls, but I drew it out the other day.”

“So I heard. Have you any money in the Emmonsville bank?”

“Yes, but I am not quite ready to take it yet. I can give you an order on the bank if that will suit.”

“Thank you; I doubt if the order would be honored.”

“All this talk amounts to nothing,” said Fox impatiently. “I tell you that if you release me I will bring or send you the money.”

“And how soon would you want it back again?”

“Whenever I saw my way clear to taking it,” said the outlaw boldly.

“I like that talk. It looks square. I’ll think over your offer, friend Fox, and let you know in the morning what I decide to do.”

The outlaw frowned. He evidently did not like the prospect of remaining in captivity overnight.

“What are you going to do with me to-night?” he asked.

“We have a comfortable place provided,” answered Luke. “Mr. Mason, if you will give your assistance, we will show our guest where we propose to put him.”

“Unbind me and I will save you the trouble.”

“No doubt; but there are some objections to that.”

The outlaw was lifted from the wagon and carried upstairs to the attic. His ankles as well as his wrists were securely tied, so that he was unable to walk.

“Friend Fox,” said Luke politely, “there is a bed and there is a shakedown,” pointing to the blankets on the floor. “You can take your choice. I hope you will like your hotel.”

“I shall like it better if it provides refreshments,” replied Fox. “I am famished.”

“I am sure Mrs. Mason will furnish you with a meal. I will speak to her.”

The outlaw seated himself on the bed and the cord about his wrists was loosened so that he might be able to eat. This might have been regarded as dangerous, as affording him an opportunity to escape, but for two reasons. In a chair opposite sat Luke Robbins with a revolver in his hand, watching his prisoner sharply.

“If you make any attempt to escape,” he said quietly, “I shall shoot. Now you understand and will be guided accordingly.”

In spite of his unpleasant situation the outlaw could not help admiring the coolness and resolution of his guard.

“You would make a capital accession to my band,” he remarked.

“If that is meant for a compliment,” said Luke dryly, “I thank you.”

“You had better think it over. Join my band and I will make it worth your while.”

He fixed his eyes earnestly upon his captor to see whether he had made any impression upon him.

“When I start on any road,” he said, “I like to know where it is coming out.”

“Well, this road will lead to wealth.”

“I don’t read it that way.”

“How then?”

“It will more likely lead to a violent death – or the gallows.”

“I have been on that path for ten years and I am alive and – ”

“A prisoner.”

“Yes, at present; but I can tell you this, my Quaker friend, that the tree has not yet grown that will furnish a gallows for John Fox.”

“Perhaps so, but I don’t feel sure of it.”

The outlaw’s predicament did not appear to interfere with his appetite. When he had completed his meal Luke called the farmer and requested him to tie his wrists again.

“You can do it better than I,” he said. “Besides, I shall need to stand guard.”

CHAPTER XII
JOHN FOX FINDS A KNIFE

The outlaw was left for several hours alone in the attic of the farmer’s house. He felt far from comfortable, and he experienced great mortification at the thought that he had been captured by a Quaker.

“I shall never hold up my head again – that is,” he added after a pause, “unless I circumvent him and get away.”

Fox dragged himself to the window and looked out.

“If only my brother knew where I was,” he reflected, “he would soon turn the tables on those clodhoppers.”

But, as he knew, his brother was twenty miles away on a different expedition.

John Fox was a man of expedients. In his long career as an outlaw he had more than once been “in a hole,” but he had never failed by some means to extricate himself.

It was not for some time that he bethought himself of a knife that he had in his pocket. If he could get it out he would be able to cut the ropes that bound him and escape, if he were not interfered with.

He looked out of the window again and saw Luke Robbins and the farmer walking up the road.

“They think I am safe,” soliloquized Fox, “but perhaps they may find themselves mistaken.”

He reflected with satisfaction that there was no one in the house but Mrs. Mason and himself. Yet as matters stood he was helpless even against her.

As it was uncertain how long his two jailers would be absent, it behooved him to escape as soon as possible. There was a difficulty in the way, as his hands were securely tied together at the wrist, and he could not thrust them into his pocket and obtain the knife. But possibly by rolling over he might manage to make it slip out. It seemed the only possible way to accomplish his object, so he at once set to work. Rolling over and over, he at length found himself in such a position that the knife – a large jackknife – slipped from the gaping mouth of the pocket.

“Ha, that is the first step toward success!” he cried triumphantly.

Next he must pick up the knife and open it. This was easier than the first step. His hands were tied at the wrist, but his fingers were free. It seemed a simple thing to open the knife, but it took him some time. At last, however, he succeeded.

“That is the second step toward liberty,” he said in a jubilant tone.

The next thing was to cut the cord that bound his wrists. That was difficult. In fact it took him longer than both the first steps together. It chanced that the knife had not been sharpened for a long time. Then the cord was stout and thick, and even had his hands been free it would have taken him some time to cut it.

“If they should come back it would be maddening,” he reflected, and as the thought came to him he looked out of the window. But nowhere were the two men visible.

“They are fools! They don’t know me!” said the outlaw.

He resumed his efforts to cut the cord. After twenty minutes the last strand parted, and with a feeling of relief John Fox stretched out his hands, free once more.

His feet were tied, but with his hands at liberty there was little difficulty in cutting the rope that tied them.

In less than five minutes the outlaw rose to his feet a free man.

He smiled – a smile of exultation and triumph.

“My Quaker friend will be surprised to find me gone. He will understand John Fox a little better. He will have to wait a little longer for his thousand dollars.”

John Fox was himself again, but for the first time in ten years, except when he was the temporary tenant of a jail, he was unarmed.

“What has that fellow done with my revolver?” he asked himself. “If it is anywhere in the house I won’t go off without it.”

Half an hour earlier he would have been content with his liberty. Now he wanted his revolver, and his thoughts recurred to the money which the farmer had drawn that morning from the bank. It was five hundred dollars, as Luke had rather incautiously let out.

John Fox was not without hopes of securing both. The coast was clear, and only Mrs. Mason was left in the house. He might terrify her, and so secure what he had set his heart upon. But there was no time to be lost, as Luke and the farmer might return any minute.

The outlaw went downstairs, stepping as lightly as he could.

On the lower floor Mrs. Mason was in the kitchen preparing the evening meal. She had at first been reluctant to remain alone in the house with the outlaw, but Luke had reassured her by the statement that he was securely bound and could not get away.

She turned from the stove at the sound of a foot-fall. There was the notorious outlaw standing in the doorway with an ironical smile upon his face.

The terrified woman sank back into a chair and regarded John Fox with a scared look.

“You here!” she exclaimed.

“Yes, Mrs. Mason, it is I.”

“How did you get free? My husband told me that you were bound.”

“So I was, and I will do your husband the justice to say that he understands his business. I had trouble to break loose.”

“However could you have done it?” asked the amazed woman.

“I won’t go into details, for there isn’t time. Now listen to me and obey my commands. Your Quaker friend took my revolver away. I want you to get it and give it to me.”

“Indeed I can’t do it, sir, for I don’t know where it is.” Mrs. Mason’s tone was a terrified one.

“That won’t do,” said John Fox sternly. “It is somewhere in the house. Look for it.”

“Indeed, sir, you are mistaken. I am sure that Mr. – the Quaker gentleman has taken it with him.”

“I don’t believe anything of the kind. He had no doubt a revolver of his own, and would not care to carry two.”

“You may be right, sir, but I don’t know where it is.”

“Is there any revolver in the house?” he demanded impatiently. “I should prefer my own, but I will take any.”

“I will look, sir, if you wish me to.”

“Wait a minute. There is something else I must have. Where is that five hundred dollars your husband drew from the bank?”

“I don’t know.”

“Tell the truth, or it will be the worse for you!”

“I am ready to tell the truth, but I don’t know.”

“Where does your husband usually keep any money he may have in the house?”

“In the desk in the next room.”

“Probably he has put the money there. Is the desk locked?”

“Yes.”

“Have you the key?”

“Here it is, sir,” and Mrs. Mason meekly passed him a small-sized key.

“Good! I see you are growing sensible. Now come with me.”

Together they entered the room and Mrs. Mason pointed to the desk.

It was an ordinary upright desk. John Fox opened it with the key. The desk opened, the outlaw began at once to search eagerly for the money.

There was a multiplicity of small drawers, which he opened eagerly, but he found no cash except four silver half dollars and some smaller silver.

“It isn’t here!” he said in a tone of sullen disappointment, turning a baffled look upon the farmer’s wife.

“No, sir, I didn’t think it was there.”

“Where do you think it is? Do you think your husband has it with him?”

“No, sir.”

“Where then can it be? Surely you must have some suspicion. Don’t dare to trifle with me.”

“Indeed I wouldn’t, sir. I think the Quaker gentleman has it.”

“Curse him!” exclaimed the outlaw angrily. “Have you any other money in the house?”

“No, sir.”

“I have a great mind to kill you!” said Fox, with a look of ferocity.

The terrified woman uttered a scream of dismay that excited the fierce outlaw still more. He sprang toward her and seized her by the throat.