THE DASH FOR LIBERTY.
With a look of gloating, Jones turned toward Mrs. Prior, his lips
parted to speak.
Yet he uttered no sound.
Every member of the Prior family was grinning. Why, none of them could
have told had their lives depended on it. Possibly their very anxiety
was the cause. But whatever produced the emotion, its effect upon the
detectives was instantaneous.
"That was a signal," hissed one of them. "Be careful about opening the
door; our men may be ambushing us."
The idea of an ambuscade inside a house was novel, yet the suggestion
appealed to the man-hunters and their leader determined to take no
risks.
"Some of you, who know the way, go first," commanded Jones.
"Don't you do it," retorted Mrs. Prior. "It's an outrage to search this
house, anyway, but if these men insist, let 'em go where they please
and then they can't say we didn't give 'em a free hand."
Realizing the woman was a Tartar, the man in charge of the searching
party turned to his fellows.
"Have your guns ready. These people evidently intend to do all they can
to block us, but we'll show 'em we can find Jesse James without their
help and in spite of them.
"If you hear any suspicious noise, shoot. The cut-throats won't
hesitate to kill us in their efforts to escape!"
The bitterness with which Jones snapped out his words was apparently
lost on the friends of the outlaws, for they made no response, but in
their hearts they made silent vows that if they could do anything to
prevent the discovery of the world-famous desperadoes they would. And
with sullen, defiant looks they watched the four men.
In evident fear that his appearance in the doorway would be greeted
with a rain of bullets, Jones lifted the latch and pulled open the
door, jumping back as he did so.
As no sign of the bandits was disclosed, the man-hunters took courage
and rushed into the parlour with Jeff and Farmer Prior, shot-guns in
their hands, at their heels.
Room after room was ransacked with a thoroughness that consumed much
time. Beds were moved, clothes and mattresses searched; every piece of
furniture that was large enough to shield a man was hauled from its
place and the closets were emptied of their contents. The remotest
corners of the attic were explored with the aid of matches.
Yet the failure to locate their quarry only made the man-hunters the
more determined.
Leaving his men to go over the ground again, Jones descended and went
out into the yard to consult with Higgins and the others.
Their curiosity aroused by the sight of the strange men guarding
the farmhouse, the neighbours flocked to learn the reason, some
going inside to talk with the family, others trying to wrest their
information from the close-mouthed man-hunters.
The sleuths, however, were unwilling to announce that they were
searching for the notorious Jesse lest it should not prove he after
all, for they feared the taunts and jeers such a mistake would bring
upon them.
No reluctance did Mrs. Prior have, however, and loudly she bemoaned the
insult of the action, proclaiming in no uncertain terms that she would
have redress if it were possible.
As word flew about that the miners were none other than the notorious
bandits, the people were amazed. But with a wholesome regard for their
own skins, they fell back to a safe distance and watched the house
open-mouthed, their numbers increasing constantly.
"I'll go back with you," declared Higgins when his side partner
had reported the fruitlessness of the first search. "We'll try the
chimneys. If you could hear the cough, it must have come from them. Did
you try the fireplaces?"
"By Jove! I never thought of them."
And eagerly Jones followed his co-worker back into the house.
Summoning their men from the upper chambers, the two set at work to
remove the large fireboard in the parlour.
But the task was no easy one, for it hadn't been disturbed for years.
Though to some of them this fact indicated that their quarry had not
hidden behind it, Jones suggested that they might have dropped down
into the opening from above and they continued their efforts.
In the ham chamber, Jesse and his companions were cursing the
persistence of the detectives whose actions and words reached them
through the flue from the parlour.
The smoke and fumes from the curing hams made their eyes water and
parched their lungs, till it seemed to them that it would be preferable
to run the risk of an encounter with the man-hunters than to be slowly
smothered to death.
Warned by the cough that had escaped from Cole, which Jones had heard,
the outlaws sat with handkerchiefs in their mouths both to keep out
some of the smoke and to stifle any choking or sneeze.
With feelings of dismay they had caught the sound of the work on
the fireboard and scarce daring to breathe they listened, their
six-shooters ready for instant use.
At last the chimney board yielded to the efforts to remove it and with
a cry of triumph, Jones and Higgins crawled into the fireplace, peering
up the flue.
Yet there was nothing to be seen.
Chagrined, the detectives rose to their feet.
"Let's start a smudge," proposed Dillaby. "Maybe they're higher up the
chimney and if they are, we can smoke 'em out."
As they heard the plan, the farmer and his son exchanged glances. The
building of a fire would send the smoke into the ham room in such
quantities that it would force the outlaws to leave it, yet they dared
not protest and stared blankly at one another.
"I guess we've hit on the right place," chuckled Higgins as he noticed
the woe-begone expressions on the faces of the two men. "Hurry and get
kindling, some of you. Tell the boys outside to watch the top of the
chimney and to send me word when they see a head appear.
"Jesse's bottled himself up good and tight this time!"
With their usual haste, the detectives were counting their eggs before
they were hatched!
And with delightful forgetfulness of the many times gone by when they
thought they had captured the desperado only to find that they hadn't,
Dillaby and Jones rushed to get the stuff to start the smudge.
"Found 'em?" grunted Mrs. Prior, as the detectives burst into the
kitchen in which all the intimate friends of the family were excitedly
discussing the sensational turn in events.
"We think--we hope so," rejoined Dillaby.
Surprised at the confidence in the man's tone, the housewife shot
a keen glance from under her eyebrows and there was a suspicious
eagerness in her voice as she asked:
"Where are they?"
"You'll see fast enough when we smoke 'em out," snapped the sleuth and
without stopping to explain, he went into the shed, quickly returning
with a basket of chips and bark.
Watching the detectives as they passed into the parlour, Mrs. Prior
slammed the door after them and placed her plump body against it, at
the same time beckoning to Marjorie and Susie.
"Go upstairs just as quick as you can. Get some towels and a pitcher of
water and hand it to Jess.
"He and the boys'll suffocate in the ham-chamber if you don't.
"I'll stand guard down here. You'd best take off your shoes so the men
in the parlour won't hear you walking about."
Deftly removing their footwear, the two girls stole up the back
stairs that led from the kitchen and hurried to get the relief to the
suffering bandits.
The pitcher of water and the towels were secured without delay, but it
was a different matter to give them to the outlaws without discovery.
Taking their places on the stairs, Marjorie cautiously removed the
little door.
Startled by the unexpected move, Jesse and his men trained their
revolvers on the opening, wondering in their hearts how their retreat
had been located.
The position of the girls was dangerous in the extreme. Yet not till
they caught sight of a pistol barrel did they realize it.
Quickly recovering, however, Susie said in a voice loud enough for her
brother to hear:
"Put the towels in first, Marjorie. They'll deaden the touching on the
bricks of the pitcher."
Recognizing the voice of his sister, the world-famous desperado lowered
his weapon and crept toward the cubby-hole.
"Have Jeff get horses for us and hold 'em in front of the next house.
We can't stay here any longer, we'll die.
"When the nags are ready come and open this door. We'll leave our
beards here.
"Now, hurry!"
Not pausing to argue, though they deemed the risk of the dash for
liberty Jesse's words disclosed as his plan, foolhardy, the girls
hurriedly replaced the little door and went down to the kitchen.
"Don't call Jeff," exclaimed Mrs. Prior when she had been apprised
of the orders of the bandit-chieftain. "Helen will do it a good deal
better.
"Just go out to the barn and turn all the horses loose. Bridle three of
them and drive the whole lot into the street. If you should take only
three, the men on the outside would get suspicious. The boys--"
But her words were interrupted by Jeff who burst into the kitchen,
crying:
"The chimney's afire! The chimney's afire!"
In despair, the housewife looked at Susie, Marjorie and Helen.
There was no use in getting out the horses. There would be too many
people both inside and out for the outlaws to have a chance of getting
away.
Already the column of smoke pouring from the chimney, and the tongue
of flame that now and then darted from its top, had attracted the
attention of the crowd in the street.
The dread word "fire" was shouted from all sides and men came rushing
into the kitchen to assist in removing the household goods.
"Don't touch anything! It's only the chimney burning out!" shrilled
Mrs. Prior. "Get some salt! Get some salt!"
And rushing to the cupboard she grabbed a box of the condiment, then
ran into the parlour.
With no intention of setting the accretion of soot in the flue to
burning, the detectives were, however, far from sorry as they heard the
roar of the flames in the chimney and, their faces wreathed in broad
smiles, they laughed and talked together.
"That'll drive 'em out, I reckon," chuckled Dillaby just at the moment
the farmer's wife entered the room.
"You won't feel so funny, you grinning monkeys, if this house burns
down!" she snapped.
If it does, you'll pay for it--and well, too.
"Helen, run down to the square and ask lawyer Perkins to come up here
just as fast as he can. I'll see if there isn't some way to prevent
these men from outraging us any more.
"Jeff Prior, you keep 'em covered in that corner with your shot gun and
don't let 'em leave this room. Ephraim, you help me throw this salt
into the chimney."
Neighbours had thronged into the room during the speech and while
some of them assisted in putting the salt onto the fire, that its
fumes might be drawn upward and stifle the blazing soot, others ranged
themselves about the man-hunters, freely expressing their opinions of
the men who had invaded the sacred privacy of the Prior home.
And never was there a more disgruntled looking set of detectives.
Aware that they had carried matters with a high hand, they had,
nevertheless, trusted to the inherent awe of one of their kind, present
in every breast, to still any violent opposition to their actions,
even to the burning out of the chimney.
But when they heard Mrs. Prior's command to her daughter to summon the
family legal adviser, they realized that they had overshot their mark
and their one thought was to get out of the house before the counsellor
should arrive.
But when Higgins started to move he was brought up short.
"Stay whar you be!" growled Jeff. "You ain't any on you goin' to leave
this house till lawyer Perkins says you can."
Protesting against such treatment the man-hunters were, however,
obliged to submit to it, their decision accelerated by the townfolk who
rallied to the young farmer's support.
For even in those days, detectives were looked down upon and despised.
With the aid of the salt, the fire was soon under control and the men
and women impatiently awaited the arrival of the member of the legal
profession, filling in the time by suggesting all the dire things they
would do to the detectives if they were the Priors.
Expostulation and diplomacy on the part of the man-hunters who had
deserted their posts outside, when they were told of the predicament
of their fellows, were alike unavailing and to such vigorous
tongue-lashings were they subjected by the irate townspeople that they
were glad enough to return to their guard duties at Higgins' command.
At last Squire Perkins arrived, the fact being announced by those
in the yard, followed as soon as possible by his appearance in the
parlour.
A tall man, with white hair and beard, his piercing eyes made still
more formidable by the bushy brows from beneath which they flashed, his
frock coat hanging loosely from his shoulders, a pair of eye-glasses
tucked between the top buttons of his waistcoat, an ebony cane with
a gold, monogrammed head in his hand, Mr. Perkins presented the
appearance of a typical member of the profession of olden times.
Taking a cursory glance at the room and its occupants, though there was
probably nothing about any of them that escaped his eagle eyes, Mr.
Perkins turned to the flushed housewife.
"What's the trouble, Mrs. Prior?" he asked in a deep, powerful voice.
With a torrent of words, the woman poured out her tale of outraged
dignity.
Several times, Higgins, Jones and Dillaby sought to interrupt but a
peremptory "wait until you're spoken to," accompanied by a savage
scowl, from the barrister was sufficient to silence them and they
subsided.
As the woman paused there was a hush while all eyes were focused upon
the lawyer.
Conscious of the attention, Squire Perkins threw back his shoulders,
gave a sharp tap with his cane and looking full at the detectives
declared:
"Your great mistake, Mrs. Prior, was in allowing these men to enter
your home in the first place. 'A man's house is his castle.' That
always has been the law and I believe it still is, unless it's been
changed since I left my office.
"These men had no business to search your house without a search
warrant. And they know it as well as I do.
"You can recover damages from them and I believe that an action
will lie against them for the shock and humiliation to which their
high-handed goings-on have subjected you.
"If you wish, I will draw the papers. In the mean time, as a justice of
the peace, I will grant you warrants for their arrest on the ground of
trespass.
"Jefferson, by virtue of my powers, I appoint you a special officer to
conduct these men to my office.
"And you, men, let me advise you to obey quietly--or it will go all the
harder with you.
"Lead the way, Jefferson. I'll watch them from behind."
Their breath taken away by the sudden change in affairs, the
man-hunters moved forward, when there was a crash overhead.
In amazement, everyone looked at the ceilings, but the next moment
there came sounds of hurried feet on the back stairs.
"There they are! Let us go! It's Jesse James!" shouted Higgins, making
a spring for the hallway, only to find himself headed off by the rush
of men and women.
Driven almost distracted by the suffocating influx of smoke and later
by the fumes from the salt, the desperadoes had stood it till they
heard the arrival of the lawyer.
Believing that in the resulting confusion, they would be able to get
away, or at least out of the house, the bandit-chieftain had whispered
his intentions to his pals.
When he tried the little door, however, he had found that he could not
open it from the inside.
Muttering that he would rather die in an open fight than be choked to
death, he struck it a blow with his pistol butt, sending it clattering
to the stairs.
Realizing that the racket would attract attention, he snapped:
"Be ready to shoot our way out," and crawled from the ham chamber.
As quickly as possible Cole followed. When all three were on the
stairs, Jesse raised his six-shooters and dashed down them.
Only a couple of women, who had been unable to force their way into the
parlour, were in the kitchen and as they beheld the three wild-eyed,
pistol-waving men leap into the room, they screamed and promptly
fainted.
Two windows were behind them.
"You-all take the left hand one," commanded the world-famous desperado.
The commotion inside had been heard by the detectives on guard out of
doors and they rushed toward the kitchen.
In the parlour, men and women were struggling to get into the hallway,
effectually blocking off Higgins and his fellows.
Seizing a knife from the table, Jesse slammed the door at the kitchen
end of the hallway, jammed the knife in such a way over the latch that
it would hold it down, then shut and bolted the door leading into the
yard.
"Round the house to the back side!" yelled someone who had seen Cole
and Clell throw up the window-sashes while their chief was closing the
doors.
Pausing at the cry, the detectives turned and raced back, thinking to
get a shot at the outlaws as they leaped from the windows.
Followed by the townfolk they ran, leaving the yard practically empty.
Where the bandits had tied them stood the three horses.
"Quick! This way, boys!" cried the great outlaw. "We can gain our
horses! 'Don't shoot unless you have to!'"
As he had uttered his change of plans, Jesse had unbolted the door and
when his companions were at his side, he threw it open and rushed to
the ponies.
Cutting the reins with their knives, the three desperadoes vaulted into
the saddles.
"Down behind the barn," whispered the great outlaw.
And digging the rowels of their spurs into the horses' flanks, the
outlaws dashed off for the woods they could see at the back of the
out-buildings.
But just as the outlaws thought they had made their escape unnoticed, a
rifle cracked and Clell threw his arms over his head and swayed in his
saddle, being prevented from falling by Jesse, who seized him about the
waist.