CHAPTER XI.
UNDER WATCH AND WARD
The farm-house was built after the model of many similar houses in New England. It was of two stories, with the front door in the centre 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 centre 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 down stairs 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 over night.
"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 up stairs 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 shake-down," 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 simply 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. He ate his dinner with evident relish, and left nothing on the plate. 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."
I was well that he did so, for John Fox, if there had been the least chance of success, would have overpowered the farmer and effected his escape. But with the eye of Luke Robbins upon him, and the pistol in his hand ready to go off at an instant's notice, there was nothing to do but to submit to being rebound.
CHAPTER XII.
THE OUTLAW'S ESCAPE
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 might as well have been captured by a woman," he said to himself. "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 or other to extricate himself. This was what he decided to do at present, if it were possible.
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 so as to use it, he would be able to cut the ropes that bound him and escape–that is, 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. She was a timid, nervous woman, who would wilt at a look from him. 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 of course a difficulty in the way, as his hands were securely tied together at the wrists, and he could not, therefore, 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 jack-knife–slipped from the gaping mouth of the pocket.
"Ha, that is the first step towards 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 wrists, but his fingers were free to work. 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 towards 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, unfortunately for him, 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. As matters stood, he was placed at great disadvantage.
"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 had evidently no fear of his escape.
"They are fools! They don't know me!" said the outlaw to himself.
He resumed his efforts to cut the cord. It was slow work, but perseverance, even in a bad cause, is apt to be crowned with success, and this was the case here. 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 still tied, but with his hands at liberty, there was very little difficulty in cutting the rope that tied them.
In less that 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 any where in the house I won't go off without it."
Half an hour earlier and 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 the articles he had set his heart upon. But, clearly, there was no time to be lost, as Luke and the farmer might return at any minute.
The outlaw went down stairs, 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 possibly get away. So, upon the whole, she was calm, and had no fear of being molested.
She turned from the stove at the sound of a footfall. 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."
"How ever 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."
"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."
The outlaw felt that time was precious, and that it would not do to indulge in prolonged discussion with the woman.
"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 moment. There is something else I must have. Where is that five hundred dollars your husband drew from the bank this morning?"
"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. He was at first afraid the woman had given him the wrong one, but she would not have dared to deceive him. 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. "He's forever standing in my way. 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.
CHAPTER XIII.
THE OUTLAW'S MISTAKE
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 miserable man?" 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–on the contrary, he was a man of boldness and courage, 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 should 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, for he felt that death might be close at hand.
"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 out-house, 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 the 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. What he had done once he might do again. 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, and probably pass the night there. If Luke Robbins should be his companion, all the better. After cutting his bonds, the knife could be put to another use, and 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 sardonic ally.
"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?" she ejaculated.
"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 stairs, 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. It must have cost you considerable trouble to cut the rope. 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 Fox 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.
For the first time he felt hopeless, and once more he execrated his folly in not making good his escape as soon as he came down stairs.
"Did he say anything while I was up stairs?" 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 here 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.
The buggy was made ready, and the outlaw, very much against his will, was packed in the back part of it. Towards 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–John Fox. He hardly knew whether to be sorry or glad, for no prison yet had been secure enough to hold him any length of time.
"I will leave my name," said Luke, "and I shall hereafter claim the reward for his capture."