ROBBED IN HIS SLEEP.
Tom was right in concluding that Bill Crane's influence over Peabody was
anything but good. The young Bostonian, however, was not long subjected
to it. During the night following John Miles's departure, the little
settlement at River Bend was called upon to deplore the loss of an
eminent member.
In brief, somewhere between midnight and dawn Mr. William Crane took his
departure, without the ceremony of leave-taking. Had he gone alone no
one perhaps would have felt any violent sorrow, but he took with him a
horse belonging to Adam Dietrich, an industrious young German, who had
only recently arrived. No one had seen the two go together, but it was
only natural to suppose that Crane had spirited away the horse.
Dietrich borrowed a horse, and, accompanied by a friend, set out in
search of the thief, but returned at night unsuccessful. Had it been wet
weather, it might have been possible to track the fugitive; but it was
very dry, and the trail was soon lost. It was almost impossible to tell
what direction Crane would choose, and continued pursuit would not pay,
so Adam sadly returned to his work.
Little doubt was entertained among the miners that Crane was responsible
for the loss of the horse. Had he been caught, there would have been
small chance for him, so generally was he pronounced guilty. A few of
his companions, especially Missouri Jack, defended him.
"Bill Crane wouldn't steal a horse any more than I would," said Jack;
and there were those who agreed with him without acquitting Bill. "Bill
ain't no saint, but he ain't a thief."
Whether Jack believed what he said, admits of a doubt. Crane needed a
different advocate to clear him from suspicion.
It may as well be stated that Crane did steal the horse. He had a
decided objection to walking as long as he could ride, and, having no
animal of his own, annexed the property of his neighbor.
He had two motives which influenced him to leave the settlement. First,
he was in Tom's power, and he was by no means certain that our hero
would keep silence touching his night-attempt at robbery. In the second
place, he still coveted the bag of gold-dust which John Miles carried
away with him. He had been prevented from taking it; but, as Miles was
travelling alone, he foresaw a better chance of success if he should
follow on his track.
How or under what circumstances he should make the new attempt he left
to be decided later. The first thing, obviously, was to overtake him.
Crane experienced the same difficulty in tracking Miles that had led to
the failure of his own pursuers. It was only on the fifth day, that, as
he halted his steed on the hillside, and cast long glances about him, he
caught sight, a mile away, of the object of his pursuit. He could not
mistake the sturdy, broad-shouldered figure, and large, massive head.
"That's Miles, sure enough!" he exclaimed, joyfully. "I thought I had
missed him, but I'm in luck. That bag must be mine."
The most direct course was to ride up in the fashion of a highwayman,
and demand the bag. But Crane did not mean to proceed in this fashion.
Physically, though not a weak man, he was not a match for Miles, and he
knew it. Cunning must supply the place of strength. He knew that Miles
was a sound sleeper, and could think of no better plan than repeating
the visit he had made in camp. It was already late in the afternoon when
he caught sight of the sturdy miner. It was his policy now to keep him
in sight, but not to approach near enough for recognition. Once seen,
Miles would be on his guard, and the game would be spoiled. Crane
halted, therefore, and drew back within the shadow of the trees,
henceforth advancing cautiously.
John Miles did not once turn back. Had he done so, it is quite possible
that he might have caught a glimpse of his pursuer. He had travelled
since morning, and his faithful horse was beginning to show signs of
fatigue.
"You are tired, my poor Dick," he said kindly, stroking the horse. "You
deserve supper and rest, and you shall have it."
Dick appeared to understand what his rider said, for he gave a short
neigh of satisfaction.
John Miles looked around him. Just ahead was a large tree, under whose
broad branches it would be pleasant to recline. Not far away was a
slender mountain-stream trickling over the rocks. Nothing could have
been better.
Miles slid from his horse and made preparations to encamp for the night,
first leading his faithful steed to the stream, where he quenched his
thirst. Then he brought out his slender stock of provisions and partook
of supper.
"It's pleasant to rest after a long day's ride," soliloquized Miles. "I
must have made forty miles to-day. I could easily have gone farther, had
it been on the prairies at home, but these mountain-roads are hard upon
man and beast."
After supper Miles threw himself upon the ground, and his mind became
busy with his plans and prospects.
"I shall reach Frisco in three days, according to my calculations," he
reflected; "and then, first of all, I must attend to Tom's commission.
That's a good boy, Tom. I wish he were here with me to-night. Why didn't
I urge him to come with me? He is not doing very well where he is, and
there are plenty of chances for a smart boy in the city. If I find any
opening for him, I will send for him. I don't know what gives me such an
interest in that boy, but I'd sooner do him a good turn than any man I
know. I hope that thief Crane won't play any trick upon him. If he does,
I swear I'll get even with him."
John Miles little suspected that he himself stood in more peril from the
man he denounced than our hero. Had he known that Bill Crane was lurking
in the vicinity, he would scarcely have courted slumber so fearlessly.
Physical fatigue and the stillness of outward nature speedily brought
on a feeling of drowsiness that was not long in bringing sleep. Twilight
had hardly given place to night when our traveller had become "to dumb
forgetfulness a prey."
This was what Bill Crane had been waiting for. He rightly calculated
that Miles would soon be asleep. He inferred this from his own feelings.
He, too, had travelled many miles, and felt drowsy; but, with the object
he had in view near accomplishment, he was able to resist the promptings
of nature.
Crane rode till he was but a few rods from Miles, then dismounted and
tethered his horse. With stealthy step he approached the sleeper. With
satisfaction he regarded the upturned face of the man whom, if waking,
he would have feared, and noted his deep, regular breathing.
"You wouldn't sleep so sound, John Miles," he said to himself, "if you
knew I was standing over you. How easily I could put a bullet into you!
But then I wouldn't have the satisfaction of anticipating your
disappointment when you wake up and find your treasure gone! No, you
may live. I have no use for your life, that is, if you don't wake up. In
that case, I may have to kill you."
The bag of gold-dust lay under the head of Miles. He knew of no better
place for it, calculating that any attempt at removal would arouse him.
So it might under ordinary circumstances, but unusual fatigue made him
sleep like a log. Bill Crane kneeled down, and by delicate manipulation
succeeded in drawing the bag from beneath the sleeper's head. Lest the
removal of the pillow might awaken Miles, he replaced it by a coat,
which he folded up so as to produce about the same elevation above the
ground.
The transfer was made, without in the least interfering with the
slumbers of the tired traveller.
Bill Crane rose to his feet, triumphant. Not only was he possessed of a
sum of which he stood sorely in need, but he had the satisfaction of
outwitting his adversary. Moreover, he had obtained Tom's money in
addition, and thus revenged himself upon the boy who had once thwarted
him.
"Good-by, John Miles!" he said, lifting his hat mockingly. "Sorry to
inconvenience you, but can't help it. A long sleep, and pleasant
dreams!"
Thus speaking, he turned away, unconscious that he had been observed by
a third party.