JESSE GETS HIS REVENGE.
Dismissing the clerk with a generous tip when they had returned to the
Shaw house, Jesse jumped from the wagon, untied the cow and intended to
wait till the fellow had driven away before calling to Daisy to come
out.
But the rattle of the wheels had been heard by the girl and Jim, and
they rushed to the door to learn who had arrived.
"Is that you, chief?" called the member of the Younger family, unable
to see in the darkness after leaving the lighted room.
Ere the great outlaw could reply, however, the cow gave a low "moo,"
evidently glad to be home, and with a gasp of incredulous delight,
Daisy darted to the animal, threw her arms around its neck and murmured:
"Is it really you, Topsey? How can we ever thank you, sir. Little Tom
will have his milk now--unless--unless--" and she stopped abruptly.
"Unless what, Miss Shaw?" inquired the bandit-chieftain.
"Unless Mr. Rozier only let her come back for the three days."
"Don't worry about that. Topsey, if that's her name, is yours for good
and all. Hiram Rozier will never trouble you about her."
Yet though the girl pressed him, he would say nothing about the manner
in which the animal had been recovered.
Leading the cow to her shed, Daisy bade Jim fetch a milk pail,
announcing that supper would be ready as soon as she had finished the
task.
But Jesse realized that Cole and John would be worried at the length
of time he and his companion were absent and, going into the house, he
helped himself to such articles of food as he thought his pals would
relish, then set out to rejoin them.
Their anxiety relieved by the return of their chief, the Youngers
listened interestedly to his account of the occurrences during his
absence, both of them stripping a bill from their rolls and asking him
to give them to the stricken family.
"Saddle the horses at nine o'clock," Jesse remarked after thanking
them for their contributions. "Jim and I'll be back as soon as we see
whether that brute Hiram sends the cancelled mortgage or not.
"Sit tight and don't take any chances."
Daisy and her companion had not been in the house long when the
world-famous desperado returned.
To his delight, the girl asked no embarrassing questions about his
absence, apparently considering it but natural that he should look
around, and no mention did she make of the missing edibles.
With a joy that was reward sufficient in itself, the baby took his
milk, being indulged with a double allowance in honour of the visit of
"Santa Claus" as Daisy called her benefactor.
On the pallet, Mrs. Shaw was sleeping peacefully.
Sitting down to the rickety table, the outlaws ate ravenously, for they
had been more than twenty-four hours without food.
Their hunger, appeased, Jesse suggested that on the morrow the girl
look for some cosy, clean rooms with a farmer who would keep Topsey,
leaving the ramshackle hovel for good and all.
The plan met with Daisy's approval till she remembered that such
comfort would cost money, but her disappointment was quickly alleviated
by the great outlaw.
"With proper care, I think Mrs. Shaw will throw off the fever," said
he, encouragingly. "You must have a doctor and give her and yourself
and the baby, too, plenty of nourishing food. Then, as soon as your
mother-in-law is able to travel, I think it would be a good plan for
you all to go down to your people, if you care to, in New Orleans. If
you don't I'll try to find a place for you somewhere. I'll make it a
point to come back and look you up in a couple of weeks, anyhow. And in
the meantime, if you'll accept a little present from me, it'll keep you
going till I see you again."
And as he concluded his speech, Jesse placed several crisp bank notes
on the table in front of the girl.
Fascinated by the sight of so much money, Daisy gazed at it for several
minutes, then with a little sigh, took one bill and pushed the rest
toward her "Prince Charming," murmuring:
"You're _so_ good. I'll take this twenty dollars because it'll help
pay the doctor and feed little Tom. But I can't accept the rest.
It wouldn't be right. Why, look at all you've done for us, buying
provisions and getting back Topsey, and I don't even know your name."
"Never mind about that now," returned the great desperado, awkwardly.
"I'm always glad to assist people in want. You just put that money in a
safe place and don't think any more about it. Some day, perhaps, you'll
be able to help me and if you are, I shall count upon your doing so."
Puzzled by the suggestion that so insignificant a person as she might
be of service to the strong, handsome man before her, the girl was on
the point of renewing her attempt to learn his identity when there was
a knock on the door.
Exchanging hurried glances, the bandit-chieftain and Jim rose to their
feet, crossing the room toward a window, their hands ready to whip out
their six-shooters should the summons be from some of their enemies.
Unheeding the significant precaution, Daisy went to the door and opened
it.
"Here's a letter from Mr. Hiram Rozier," piped a boy's voice. "He says
he hopes Mrs. Shaw's better."
But the girl vouchsafed no reply, simply taking the envelope and
shutting the door in the messenger's face.
"What can this be?" she exclaimed, turning the missive over and over in
her hands as though trying to learn its contents through the cover.
"Open it and find out," smiled Jesse. "I don't believe it's loaded."
Mechanically Daisy obeyed, drawing forth a carefully folded piece of
paper.
"Why, it's the mortgage on Topsey and it says 'satisfied in full of all
demands' on it. This is more of your work, sir," she cried, raising her
happy face to the great outlaw's.
"So I fancy. I thought the old duffer would listen to reason. And now
that everything's all right, we must go."
Finding that her entreaties were of no avail, the girl insisted upon
their taking lunch with them and after Jesse had showed her about some
medicines he left for the sick woman, with many expressions of her
gratitude for their surprising generosity, Daisy watched them till they
were lost in the darkness of the night.
For several rods the two outlaws walked on in silence, then the chief
exclaimed:
"I sure am glad we happened to strike that house."
Attributing the statement to his sympathetic nature, Jim praised his
bounty.
But when they rejoined Cole and John, he was made aware that it was
prompted by other causes as well.
"The old curmudgeon sent back the mortgage, cancelled," announced Jesse
excitedly. "I've thrown a jolt into old Hiram that he won't forget till
his dying day. _Now for the other Rozier!_ Come on. We must be in Ste.
Genevieve day after tomorrow."
Realizing that the task would mean hard riding, the bandits lost no
time in getting under way, passing through the town that Jesse might
point out where the lion he had "bearded in his den" lived, to his
fellows.
Twice during the night, the desperadoes were startled by the sound of
rapid hoof-beats and reined into the bushes at the side of the road to
discover who was riding so late.
The first one proved to be a solitary horseman coming from the
direction in which they were going, but the second caused them deep
concern.
Five men, with rifles carried across their saddle pommels, ready for
instant use, dashed along the highway, bound eastward as were the
bandits.
Never uttering a word, the men leaned forward the better to penetrate
the darkness ahead.
"Do you suppose they're after us or are they just out on a little
game of their own?" whispered Jim as the hoof-beats died away in the
distance.
"Goodness only knows," returned the world-famous desperado. "They mean
business, whoever they are. Just keep your ears open."
Fearing an ambush, the outlaws rode with the utmost caution, carefully
examining any dark places along the highway before they entered.
The possibility that they were officers sent out by Hiram Rozier was
discussed but no decision could they come to and it was with feelings
of relief that they watched the day dawn.
Pausing in a dense copse for breakfast, they devoured the lunch
provided by Daisy and took turns at sleeping till about ten o'clock
when they once more took up their course.
Riding in the shelter of the woods, the outlaws covered many miles
before sundown when they again rested.
Forced to be content with smoking their pipes and tightening their
belts in lieu of supper, they stopped only long enough to feed their
mounts, then entered upon the final stage of their cross-state dash.
In contrast to the two previous nights, the moon rose clear, enabling
them the better to see the roadway and thus make faster time.
No untoward incidents occurred. Not a traveller did they meet and at
six o'clock in the morning they rode into Ste. Genevieve.
Founded by the Catholics in the early part of the eighteenth century,
the town had grown in wealth and population steadily. The old French
families had imparted a courtliness and refinement that distinguished
it from other villages when the horde of home-seekers flocked across
the "Big Muddy," lured by dreams of wealth and happiness to be found
beyond its shores.
With a thrift inherited from their forebears, the inhabitants saved
their money and Jim had not been wrong when he had declared that
Rozier's bank usually carried upwards of $100,000 in its vaults.
The air was redolent with the fragrance of Spring as Jesse, Jim, John
and Cole rode through the streets, their minds bent upon a crime
against the citizens.
Stopping at the first livery stable to which they came, the outlaws
ordered their horses fed and inquired the way to the nearest good
restaurant.
It was the belief of the world-famous desperado that men were more
daring with their stomachs full than when hunger gnawed at them, and
never did he undertake any of his sensational raids without eating
first, when possible.
Being directed to a first-class eating place, they laughed and chatted
during their breakfast and no one who saw them would have thought they
contemplated perpetrating any foul deed.
Purchasing cigars when they had finished their meal, the quartette
sauntered out onto the street to find where the Savings Association
Bank was located and to look over the building, its approaches and
entrances.
In the northern end of the town they discovered it, its name announced
by a gold-lettered sign with black background at the top of a one-story
building and in smaller letters on the windows.
"What luck," chuckled Jesse as they walked past the bank. "It's right
on a corner. You and Jim, John, can wait in this side street. There are
nothing but dwelling houses on it, that I can see. By looking through
the windows, you can see anybody passing on the main thoroughfare and
no inquisitive attention will be attracted to you as there would if you
sat your horses in front of the bank.
"When we go back, we'll notice what time it opens. The earlier we turn
the trick, the less risk we'll run of being interrupted."
Not just beyond the building did the bandits stop and turn, however.
Too thoroughly versed in the art of avoiding attention when they wished
to, they walked half a mile beyond the bank, crossed the street and
returned on the opposite side.
"Get a look at the cashier's cage," whispered their chief as they drew
near.
In the most casual manner, the desperadoes glanced toward the
institution, then turned their eyes upon something else.
But in the brief space they had learned what they wished.
White enamelled letters announced that the banking hours were from nine
till twelve in the morning and from two till four in the afternoon, and
on Saturday evenings from seven till eight.
The desk of the cashier was at the end of the counter next to the side
street, evidently so placed that the official might converse with
customers without being heard by any others who might be in the bank.
And directly behind the desk the massive steel doors of the vault were
visible.
"It's only seven-thirty," declared Jesse, looking at his watch when
they had passed the bank. "Let's drop into the hotel and look at
yesterday's newspapers. I'd lake to see what they have to say about the
shindy at the Springs."
No better way of spending the hour and a half they were forced to wait
suggesting itself, the quartette entered the village Inn and were soon
engrossed in the fantastic report of Jesse's escape from the health
resort.
Beyond the usual, exaggerated account of the number of his companions,
there was nothing that caused them concern.
But the perusal served as an excellent "kill time" and it was with a
start that the great outlaw noticed the hands on the Inn clock pointing
to quarter before nine.
"It's time to get the horses," he declared, rising.
Without the quiver of an eyelash to betray their intense excitement,
now that the time for action was at hand, the others got up and left
the hostelry.
Quickening their pace as they reached the street, they were soon at the
livery stable and as the village clock struck the hour of nine, they
cantered leisurely past the bank into the side street where Cole and
his chief dismounted, leaving their horses in charge of Jim and John.
"Watch out for people who look as though they were going to enter the
bank. _And shoot 'em before they do so!_" whispered the world-famous
desperado as he gave the reins of his pony to Jim.
No hour of the day could have been more auspicious for the outlaws!
So early was it that few women were upon the street on shopping bent,
the merchants were busy reading their morning mail and those of the
citizens who worked had gone to their labours hours before.
Passing around onto the main street, for there was only one door to the
Savings Association Bank, and that on the front side, Jesse and Cole
mounted the two steps and entered the institution.
But as they opened the door they received a shock!
Standing beside the cashier was Forman A. Rozier, Jr.!
In obedience to his father's command, the lad had come to Ste.
Genevieve to warn Mr. Harris of his president's fears. With the easy
confidence of youth, he had added, on his own responsibility, that he
thought his sire was unduly alarmed and that Jesse would have too much
to do to get away from the posse at the Springs to think of wreaking
his vengeance upon the bank. Yet all the money, save about $10,000, had
been sent to Kansas City as the elder Rozier wished.
No sign did either the bandit-chieftain or his pal make, however, that
would disclose their surprise at his presence.
The cashier and the son of the banker were chatting together when Jesse
suddenly whipped out his trusty "Colts" and covered them, hissing:
"We've come to help you open the bank! Get a move on and open that
vault!"
In blank amazement, the startled cashier whirled about, his mouth
opened as though to shout an alarm only to close it as he beheld the
ugly muzzles of the four six-shooters pointed at him.
"Don't stand and gawp! Step lively!" admonished the bandit-chieftain.
For an instant, Mr. Harris hesitated, evidently trying to make up his
mind whether to save his life or his depositors' money, then whined:
"You have me at your mercy! I'm helpless!"
"That's the way to talk," grinned the great outlaw. "But 'actions speak
louder than words.' Open that vault or you'll be running errands for
the Devil before you're two minutes older!"
His hands trembling so that he could with difficulty work the
combination, the cashier strove to obey.
Intent upon watching him, Cole and Jesse had left young Rozier
unguarded.
Biding his time, the youth waited till the robbers' eyes were riveted
on the steel vault, then made a dash for the door.
But the sound of his steps recalled the bandits to his existence.
Whirling, the great outlaw swung at him with his pistol barrel, just
grazing the top of his head.
"No you don't, you little cuss!" he snapped. "Come here to me or I'll
make a new heir to the Rozier wealth!"
Fearing to disobey, young Forman walked slowly toward his captor.
"Get up there behind the counter," commanded the bandit-chieftain.
"That's the way. Now hold this bag!" And he produced the ever-present
gunny-sack from the blouse of his shirt.
The massive doors of the safe had answered to the manipulation of the
tumblers in the combination and Cole was inside as the boy reluctantly
took hold of the bag.
"Where's the rest of the money?" demanded the eldest of the Younger
brothers, emerging with only two sacks of gold in his hands and a
couple of packages of bank notes under his arms.
"It's--it's in Kansas City!" whimpered the cashier.
"A--ha! I see! This is your doings, you little pig-faced mut!" roared
Jesse, grabbing young Rozier by the coat collar and shaking him while
he poured a torrent of blasphemous abuse on his luckless head. "How
much _was_ there in the vault last night, old baldy?" he snarled at Mr.
Harris.
"$8,500."
"How much did you send to Kansas City?"
"Not quite $100,000."
At the thought of the vast amount of which he had been deprived by the
journey of the bank president's son to Ste. Genevieve, the wrath of
the world-famous desperado broke out anew.
"Why didn't you stay in the Springs?" he thundered. "I was a fool not
to have shot you when you pointed out my tent to Dillaby."
Gazing at the bandit in terror, the youth blinked at him a moment, then
cried:
"You're 'Howard' the false miner! Father was right! Help! He--"
But the cry was stifled in his throat by the powerful fingers of the
terrible outlaw.
"You lie, you little vermin! I'm not 'Howard'--I'm Jesse James! A--ah!
It makes you blanch when you think that you and your money-loving
father insulted _me_ and set detectives on my track, eh?
"You've cheated me out of $100,000 by coming here! And by the blood of
my mother! I'll take it out of your hide. I'll teach the Rozier tribe
better than to try to drug Jesse James with doped wine!"
And before either Cole and the cashier recovered from their surprise at
the fury of the great bandit's denunciation, Jesse lifted the banker's
son from the floor, hurled him into the vault and slammed the massive
doors shut.
"It'll cost old Rozier a few dollars before he gets you out of here,"
chuckled the world-famous desperado.
And to the horror of Mr. Harris, he aimed his revolver at the lock and
pulled the trigger, shattering the combination with the bullet.
"He'll die! He'll smother!" wailed the cashier.
"Let him! If you dare to raise an alarm for five minutes, I'll come
back and blow the top of your bald pate off.
"Come, Cole! We'll go back to the Springs and get old Rozier. And just
remember this, you Harris. If Rozier doesn't resign as president of
this bank, I'll raid it every year.
"Tell _that_ to your directors!"