A Cousin's Conspiracy: or, A Boy's Struggle for an Inheritance
TekstCHAPTER XIII
JUST IN TIME
John Fox had been so occupied with his terrified victim that he quite forgot the possibility of his two captors returning.
It so happened that both were approaching the house when they heard Mrs. Mason’s cry of terror.
“What’s that?” exclaimed the farmer in alarm.
“I believe that scoundrel has got loose,” answered Luke.
He quickened his pace and entered the house just in time to become a witness of the outlaw’s brutality.
It was no time to hesitate or parley. He sprang upon the robber, dashed him to the ground and put his foot upon his breast.
“What deviltry are you up to, you wretch?” he demanded. Then turning to Mrs. Mason he asked, “Why did he attack you?”
“He wanted my husband’s money – and a revolver,” answered the trembling woman.
“I have a great mind to give him the contents of the revolver!” said Luke sternly.
John Fox was not a coward, but as he looked up at the stern face of the Quaker detective he quailed, almost for the first time in his life. He tried to rise, but the heavy foot of Luke Robbins was on his breast.
“Let me up!” he growled.
“You don’t deserve to get up! You shall lie there forever for your cowardice in attacking a woman!”
“I would rather it had been you!” said John Fox bitterly.
“You are safe in attacking a woman,” said the detective in scornful sarcasm.
The outlaw was stung by his assailant’s scorn.
“I have attacked many better men than you,” he replied, “and some have not lived to tell the tale!”
“So you own up to being a murderer? I am ready to believe you. I have a great mind to shoot you where you lie!” and Luke pointed his revolver at the prostrate outlaw.
“That would be the act of a coward,” said John Fox, hastily, his cheek turning pale.
“Not exactly that, for I have mastered you in a fair fight, but there is one thing that holds back my hand. Do you know what it is?”
“Well?”
“I should cheat the gallows of its due. Here, farmer!”
Ezekiel Mason, pale and trembling, was standing on the threshold.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Go and get another rope.”
The farmer left the house, and going to an outhouse returned with a stout clothes-line.
“Tie him again while I hold him,” was Luke’s command. “Tie him as securely as before – more so, if possible. How did you get loose?”
“Find out for yourself!” said the outlaw sullenly.
“I mean to, and I don’t intend that you shall escape a second time.”
Meanwhile John Fox was execrating his folly in not escaping when he had the chance. If he had not waited for the revolver and money he might by this time have been out of danger.
Yet he was not without hope. He still had the knife in his pocket. It was ready for use and he meant to use it.
No doubt he would be taken back to the attic. If Luke Robbins should be his companion, all the better. After cutting his bonds the knife might end the life of the man who had inflicted such humiliation upon him.
He did not speak, but his eyes betrayed him. There was such a revengeful gleam in them that Luke read their meaning without trouble.
“If I am ever at the mercy of that ruffian,” he thought, “I wouldn’t give much for my chance of keeping a whole skin.”
When the outlaw lay securely bound Luke summoned the farmer.
“Watch him for five minutes, Mr. Mason,” he said. “I am going to the attic to learn if I can how he got loose.”
Ezekiel Mason looked uncomfortable, but did not object. He was half afraid of John Fox even in his helpless condition.
“Have you a revolver?”
“Yes.”
“Then take it out, and if he makes an effort to escape shoot him without a moment’s hesitation.”
It gratified the outlaw to see how much afraid of him the farmer was, even in his helpless condition. But he could not flatter himself that he had inspired any terror in Luke Robbins. Against his will he was compelled to pay tribute to the resolute courage of the Quaker detective. As he met the gaze of the farmer he smiled to himself sardonically.
“You’ve got the advantage of me,” he said. “I am bound and helpless, while you are free and are armed. Still you are afraid of me.”
“Why should I be?” asked Mason, but his tone was not firm.
“Yes, why should you be? I’ll tell you. If ever I have you where I am now I’ll give you fifteen minutes to say your prayers.”
“Oh, what a terrible man!” said Mrs. Mason with a shudder. “You wouldn’t kill him?”
“Yes, I would. But there is one way of escape.”
“What is that?”
“Loose these bonds and let me go before your Quaker friend comes down and your life will be safe, and your wife’s.”
Ezekiel Mason shook his head feebly.
“I don’t dare to do it,” he said.
“Do as you please, but the time will come when you will be sorry that you refused. What are you afraid of? You are armed, while I have no weapon.”
“I am afraid of Luke.”
“You needn’t be. He would find fault with you, but that would be all.”
Ezekiel Mason was weak, but not weak enough to yield to the persuasions of his prisoner. Besides, he knew that Luke would come down from the attic directly.
In fact, he was already close at hand. He brought in his hand the cut fragments of the cord with which the outlaw had originally been bound.
“This tells the story,” he said, holding up the rope so that the farmer and his wife could see it. “This rope has been cut. The man has a knife.”
John Fox darted a malignant look at him, but said nothing.
“You are smart, John Fox,” Luke went on, “smarter than I thought. Where is your knife?”
John Fox did not reply.
Luke Robbins knelt down and thrust his hand unceremoniously into the outlaw’s pocket.
He drew out the knife which had done him so much service.
“This will be safer with me than with you,” he said.
“Would you rob me?” demanded the outlaw.
“Yes, of anything it is not proper for you to have.”
To John Fox the disappointment was bitter. He was, if anything, more securely tied than before, and it would be quite impossible to loosen the rope or free himself without the help of the knife. His hope of getting loose during the night and killing Luke was at an end.
“Did he say anything while I was upstairs?” asked Luke.
“Yes.”
“What was it?”
“He wanted me to set him free.”
“Did he offer you money?”
“No, but he threatened that he would some time take my life.”
“He is a terrible man!” said Mrs. Mason, shuddering. “I shall not feel safe to-night with him in the house.”
“I don’t propose to let him stay in the house all night.”
The prisoner, the farmer and his wife looked at Luke inquiringly.
“I think, farmer,” said Luke, “you’d better harness up and we will take our friend to the jail in Crampton.”
“What, to-night?”
“Yes; the sooner he is safely disposed of the better; at any rate we will have shifted the responsibility to the authorities.”
“Yes, it will be better,” said Mrs. Mason in a tone of relief.
The buggy was made ready, and the outlaw was packed in the back part of it. Toward nightfall the warden of the prison at Crampton was startled by the arrival of the farmer and Luke bringing with them the notorious outlaw whose name was in every mouth. He hardly knew whether to be sorry or glad, for no prison yet had been secure enough to hold him.
“I will leave my name,” said Luke, “and I shall hereafter claim the reward for his capture.”
CHAPTER XIV
ERNEST HAS AN ADVENTURE
Luke Robbins remained at the farmhouse till the middle of the next day. At that hour the sum of money which Mason had withdrawn from the bank was transferred to the party for whom it was intended, and Luke’s mission was at an end.
He received from the farmer the stipulated five dollars, and started on his return to Emmonsville, Ezekiel Mason driving him the greater part of the way.
Luke arrived at the bank half-an-hour before it closed and reported his success, including the capture of John Fox. He was congratulated on his success, but noticed that the officers of the bank looked grave.
“Is anything the matter?” he asked.
“Yes,” answered the cashier. “At one o’clock yesterday we sent your young friend Ernest with a thousand dollars in United States bonds to the bank at Lee’s Falls, and we have received no tidings from him.”
“What do you fear?” asked Luke hurriedly.
“We fear that he may have been captured by some of the Fox gang, and be in confinement, or else – ”
“What?”
“Killed or wounded,” added the cashier.
“He could not have met John Fox, for I held him in custody.”
“There was the other brother, James, who was at large.”
“James is the tall brother?”
“Yes.”
“Then,” said Luke, “I shall have to hunt him, too. Will you grant me leave of absence?”
“Gladly. We want to recover the bonds, but we care still more for the safety of the boy.”
Indeed Ernest had become popular with the bank officials as well as with the residents of Emmonsville. The cashier spoke truly when he said that he cared more for the boy’s safety than for the recovery of the bonds.
“Can you tell me anything that will help me in my expedition?” asked Luke. “Have you any idea where the Fox gang would be likely to carry Ernest?”
“It is generally supposed that the band have a secret rendezvous somewhere within a dozen miles, but no one has been able to discover where it is.”
“And you think that Ernest would be carried there?”
“Yes, they would hardly bring themselves to kill a young boy. He would be easily overpowered by a grown man, so that there would be no excuse for murderous violence.”
“How did the boy go?”
“He walked.”
“But it was a long distance.”
“Yes, about ten miles. We at first thought of providing him with a saddle-horse, but there was one objection.”
“What was that?”
“He would have been more likely to be suspected of being out on some mission.”
Leaving Luke Robbins to start on his search for Ernest, we will go back to the time when the boy messenger left the bank on the day previous.
The United States bonds were inclosed in an envelope and carried in an inner pocket, which had been expressly made by an Emmonsville tailor on his first connecting himself with the bank. The pocket was unusually deep, so as to accommodate a long parcel.
This was the most important commission on which Ernest had been employed, and he was pleased with the confidence reposed in him. He did not dread the long walk, for he was a strong and active boy. Besides, he was authorized to accept a ride if one should be offered him.
He would arrive at Lee’s Falls after the bank was closed, but he was instructed to call at the residence of the cashier and leave the bonds.
Ernest had walked three miles when he met with an adventure.
On the borders of a small pond he caught sight of a small Indian boy playing. He was probably not more than three years of age. A stick he was playing with fell into the pond, and the little fellow reached over to recover it. In doing so he lost his balance and fell into the water; there was a scream and a splash, and Ernest no sooner saw the accident than he ran up, threw off his coat and vest, lest he should wet the bonds, and plunged into the pond.
The young bank messenger was an expert swimmer, and in an instant had seized the child and placed him out of danger. The little Indian boy clung to him instinctively, feeling safe with his young protector.
“Where do you live, little boy?” asked Ernest.
“Out yonder,” answered the child.
Ernest had not been quite sure whether he would be able to understand or speak English, but having been brought up among white people he was as familiar with English as most white boys of his age.
Ernest looked in the direction pointed out by the boy. At the distance of a hundred rods he saw a rude log-house. Smoke was curling from a chimney. Outside sat an Indian about forty years of age smoking a pipe.
He seemed busily thinking, having the grave face characteristic of the average Indian. He did not immediately notice the approach of his little son. But when they were near the Indian boy uttered a cry, pronouncing some Indian word which possibly meant “father.”
Then the red man looked up, and his grave face changed as he recognized his boy in the company of a young white stranger.
He rose hastily from his seat and advanced to meet the two who were approaching.
“What has happened?” he asked in clear and distinct English.
“Your little boy fell into the water,” explained Ernest.
“And you saved him?”
“Yes,” answered Ernest modestly. “I saw him fall and jumped in after him.”
“Was the water deep?”
“About so deep,” said Ernest, placing his hand about five feet from the ground.
“Then he would have been drowned if you had not been near?”
“Yes, if he could not swim.”
“He is too young to swim. But you are wet,” added the Indian, noticing for the first time the condition of Ernest’s clothes.
“Yes, a little.”
“Come in,” said the Indian abruptly.
He led the way into the log-cabin.
There was a stove in the center of the room, and the air was so heated as to be uncomfortable. As he led the child in a stout Indian woman came forward with a cry and took him in her arms. Her husband rapidly explained what had happened. She instantly stripped the clothes from the child and put on a dry change.
“Now,” said the Indian, turning to Ernest, “take off your wet clothes.”
Though Ernest knew that it was wise to do so, he felt bashful about removing them in presence of the woman. But his Indian host brought from a nail on which they hung a pair of buckskin breeches of his own and offered them to Ernest for temporary use.
Ernest no longer hesitated, but made the substitution.
As the Indian was four or five inches taller than himself, the legs covered his feet. He laughed as he saw how they looked, and the Indian’s serious face relaxed a little from the same cause.
“Now I will dry your clothes,” he said.
He took a chair and, hanging the wet garments over the back, placed it very near the stove. Ernest hardly liked to lose so much time, but he knew that it would not be safe to wear the trousers in their soaked condition.
“You speak English very well,” he said, turning to the Indian.
“Yes; I have spent much time with white people,” was the answer.
“Do you support yourself by hunting?” went on Ernest.
“Yes, I am a hunter, but I go with rich white people from the cities and with Englishmen who want a guide.”
“And do they pay you well?” asked Ernest, not quite sure whether he was not showing too much curiosity.
“Yes, they pay me well. I have some money in the bank.”
Then Ernest remembered having seen the Indian one day at the bank. He was told at the time that his name was John Castro, and that he had several hundred dollars on deposit.
CHAPTER XV
JOHN CASTRO
While Ernest’s clothes were drying the Indian woman was bustling about the stove. The boy did not suspect her object till she placed on the table a plate of Indian cakes hot from the oven and he was invited to partake.
It was the first time he had ever been a guest in an Indian family, and he hesitated, but saw that his refusal to partake might hurt the feelings of his new friends. He seated himself at the table, and found the cakes really very good.
When his clothes were dry he rose to go.
“Won’t you stay all night?” asked Castro.
“Thank you. I cannot spare the time. I must push on.”
“Where are you going?” asked the Indian.
“To Lee’s Falls.”
“I will go with you a short distance.”
So they set out together.
At length John Castro stopped.
“That is your way,” he said. “I wish you a pleasant journey. I will not forget what you have done for my little son. If ever you are in trouble send for John Castro.”
“I thank you.”
The Indian shook hands with him gravely and turned back toward his cabin.
All this had taken time. Ernest had no watch with him, but he estimated that the adventure had cost him two hours. However, he had saved a boy’s life.
Again he had made a friend. The friend was an Indian, but Ernest was wise enough to consider that no friend, however humble, is to be despised.
It was clear that he would reach his destination late, and he began to wish that some carriage would overtake him in which he might ask for a ride.
But he walked two miles farther without encountering any team. At last, however, he heard the rumble of wheels, and turning round to see whether there was room in the vehicle, he saw that it was a buggy driven by a tall, thin man with dark hair, swarthy face and a long, aquiline nose.
The driver eyed Ernest sharply and brought the buggy to a standstill.
“Where are you going, boy?” he asked.
“To Lee’s Falls.”
“Where have you come from?”
“From Emmonsville.”
“It is a long walk.”
“Yes. Do you think you could give me a lift?”
“Perhaps so. Jump in.”
Ernest lost no time in availing himself of the invitation.
“Where were you going in Lee’s Falls?” he asked.
Ernest felt that it would be imprudent to mention that his destination was the bank, so he answered guardedly, “I am going to see the town. I may stop overnight.”
“At the hotel?”
“Yes.”
“It is not much of a place to see,” said the driver, watching his companion curiously.
“It is larger than Emmonsville, isn’t it?”
“Yes. How long have you been in Emmonsville?”
“Not long.”
“Where do you live there?”
“At Mrs. Larkins’.”
“Do you go to school?”
“No.”
Meanwhile the horse was traveling very slowly, and it seemed to Ernest that he would go over the road quite as fast if he had continued to walk. He began to think it was his turn to ask questions.
“Are you going all the way to Lee’s Falls?” he asked.
“I may go nearly there.”
“I am very much obliged to you for giving me a lift. I was quite tired.”
The driver smiled.
“Perhaps I have an object,” he said.
Ernest looked an inquiry.
“The pleasure of your company,” explained his companion with a smile.
“Thank you,” answered Ernest.
“Now I come to look at you, I think I have seen you before,” continued the driver.
“Where?”
“In Emmonsville – at the bank.”
Ernest became alarmed. There was a significance in his companion’s tone which excited his alarm. But he did not dare show his feelings. He remained outwardly calm, though inwardly disturbed.
“Very probably,” he said; “I have been there.”
His companion laughed. He was playing with the boy as a cat plays with a captive mouse. Ernest began to consider whether he could not think of some pretext for getting out of the buggy.
Suddenly the buggy stopped.
“I will get out here,” said Ernest quickly.
“Not quite yet. I have not got through questioning you.”
“I am in a hurry,” said Ernest.
“You must wait till your hurry is over. Now tell me truly, are you not bound for the Lee’s Falls bank?”
Ernest was startled.
“You see, I know more about you than you suppose. You are the bank messenger.”
It seemed useless to deny it. The question now was, was his secret packet in danger?
“I have sometimes acted as bank messenger,” he said warily.
“And you are acting in that capacity now. What are you taking to the Lee’s Falls bank?”
Ernest turned pale. His worst fears were confirmed.
“Why do you ask?” he said.
“Because I want to know.”
“What business can it be of yours?” demanded Ernest boldly.
“Don’t be impudent, boy! Hand me the package of money.”
“I have no package of money.”
“Then you have bonds.”
Ernest remained silent.
“I see that I have hit it. Now hand over the bonds, if you value your life.”
He spoke sternly and looked so fierce that the boy messenger became more and more alarmed. He saw that he must give up the package, but determined to hold out in his resistance as long as possible.
“The package is not mine, and I have no right to surrender it,” he said.
“I’ll take the responsibility, boy. You can’t be blamed, for you can’t help yourself.”
As he spoke he passed his hand over Ernest’s vest, which he saw projected more than was usual, and discovered the hiding place of the important package.
Instantly he had torn open the vest and drawn out the envelope.
“I thought I should find it,” he said in a tone of triumph.
Ernest felt very much dejected. It was a mortification to lose the first large sum with which he had been intrusted.
“Will you tell me who you are?” he asked abruptly.
“First let me know who you think I am.”
As the driver spoke he eyed Ernest sharply.
“Is your name Fox?” asked the young messenger.
His companion laughed.
“I know Mr. Fox,” he answered.
“You are either Fox or a member of his band.”
“You seem to be a sharp boy; I won’t tell you whether you are right or not.”
“I suppose I may go now?”
“Where do you want to go?”
Ernest hesitated. This was a question which he could not at once answer. To go on to Lee’s Falls without the packet would do little good. Yet the bank officers there ought to know that the bonds intended for them had been stolen.
“I will go to Lee’s Falls,” he said.
“Not at present; I have other views for you.” As he spoke the robber turned his horse to the right. Wholly ignorant as to where he was to be carried, Ernest sank back in his seat and resigned himself as well as he could to the situation.