THE FUGITIVES
Saturday passed quietly. No captures were made, no prospects sighted.
But on Sunday Gizzard began to hear things. Certain inquisitive boys in
his Sunday School class interrogated him as to the progress of the new
business, and were especially curious to know what disposition was to be
made of the captives. Gizzard dismissed them as prying ninnies, and more
than thrice denied the existence of the enterprise.
After Sunday School Sube proceeded homeward a few laggard steps, when
his attention was arrested by a most unusual anthill in a crack near the
center of the sidewalk. He paused to investigate it, for he was greatly
interested in ants, especially on Sunday. On several prior occasions he
had pointed out to other naturalists, notably Nancy Guilford, certain
peculiarities he had observed in the industrious insects. Pleasant
discussions had been almost sure to follow. But to-day something was
amiss. Nancy swept by without so much as a glance at the young
naturalist. His first impulse was to call out to her, but the peculiar
way she had brushed aside her skirts as she passed him counseled
silence. So he pretended that he had not noticed her, and for several
minutes confined his attention to the anthill. Then he crossed the
street and passed along the other side utterly oblivious of all the
world.
These things had not escaped Gizzard's observation, but he said in his
heart, "It means nothing. It is the way of woman." However, on the
morrow when he heard Nancy shout across the street to a companion that
Sube Cane had stolen her new kitten and that her father was going to
have him arrested, they took on a new and horrible significance.
He was irresistibly drawn to Cane's barn, where he found Sube peacefully
seated among his yowling charges.
"Oh! You're still here, are you?" Gizzard asked nervously.
"Sure. Where'd you think I'd be?"
"Well, I didn't know. You can never tell! A feller never knows what's
goin' to happen to 'im!" was the cryptic response.
Sube looked at Gizzard with a new found interest. "Say, what's the
matter of you? You're as white as a sheet!"
"I ain't feelin' very good," Gizzard admitted. "I feel kind o' weak
right here." He placed a hand over his stomach as he added, "Guess I'd
better be goin' home."
"Better not!" cautioned Sube. "Your mother'll give you a dose of castor
oil!"
"No she won't," muttered Gizzard weakly. "I'm goin' anyhow."
"Seen any strays to-day?" Sube called after him as he went out of the
door.
"Nope. S'long!"
"S'long!"
Twice that afternoon Gizzard returned, and each time went away
complaining of weakness in his middle. Why he did not tell Sube what he
had heard can never be explained, for Gizzard did not know himself.
Perhaps he did not wish to have his partner unduly alarmed by rumors
that might turn out to be false. But when he came rushing into the barn
after supper, he told what had been on his mind, without further delay.
"Hey, Sube!" he cried in a tremulous voice. "You gotta get out of here!
He jus' went in your house lookin' for you!"
He caught Sube by the arm and dragged him towards the door.
"What I got to get out for?" asked the amazed cat-catcher.
"Dan Lan-non!" enunciated the terrified informant. "He's goin'ta _'rest_
you!"
At the name of this grim officer of the law all felons trembled. Sube
was no exception to the rule. He grew deathly pale. He had that empty
feeling in his interior that Gizzard had complained of. He vaguely
wondered what crime he had committed, but did not stop to inquire, as
Gizzard dragged him feverishly towards the back door of the barn. Once
outside he seemed to recover possession of his senses and assumed the
lead. He conducted Gizzard to the midst of a clump of blackberry bushes
in the rear of a deserted house not far away, and there Gizzard
unburdened his soul.
Sube was scared. He was petrified. But he was faithful to the last. He
could not believe that Nancy had betrayed him.
"It must of been that ol' M's Rude," he kept repeating. "It _must_ of
been! It couldn't of been--anybody else! Now I wonder if that big cat
with the long hair belonged to her."
"Wonder? Ain't you _sure_?"
"Why, it looked like hers, but--"
"It wasn't M's Rude," declared Gizzard. "It was Nancy Guilford! Why,
didn't she say she was goin' to have you--!"
"Girls _say_ lots of things they don't mean."
"Yes, but she said it, and then it happened!"
"I don't care what she _said_! I tell you it was that ol' M's Rude!"
Sube burst out angrily. Then modifying his tone he continued: "But that
don't cut any ice anyway! What I want to know is, what we goin' to do?"
Then followed a long discussion of the possibilities, and, as neither of
the fugitives was willing to be taken alive, there seemed to be only one
alternative: flight. Alaska was discarded as too cold, and South America
as too hot. That portion of Texas nearest to the Mexican line seemed to
offer the most tempting prospects for a "career," and Sube had begun to
take a bit of grim comfort in the pangs that he felt sure Nancy Guilford
must endure as she came to realize that she had made a desperado of him,
when an idea flashed into his brain with the brilliancy of a
searchlight.
"Say!" he gasped. "Why couldn't we sneak back there and let the derned
ol' cats out! Then we'd lay low till they had time to get back to their
homes--!"
"You're on!" cried Gizzard.
They made their way out of their retreat, unmindful of the scratching
thorns, and cautiously retraced their steps to the barn.
"I never heard 'em so quiet before," whispered Sube. "S'pose they're all
asleep?"
"Prob'ly," replied Gizzard. "It must be awful late."
They lighted a stump of a candle that had been hidden away for just such
emergencies, and ascended the dusty stairs. Horror seized them as they
found their place of business in wildest disorder, with the cages upset
and broken open and every cat gone. Through the flickering gloom they
stared at each other dumbfounded, bewildered; their last faint glimmer
of hope gone.
"Where do you s'pose--" faltered Gizzard, but he was unable to say more.
"Dan must've got 'em for proof!" groaned Sube.
"What'll we _ever_ do!" snivelled Gizzard.
"Now I s'pose we _got_ to beat it!" replied Sube in a voice husky with
emotion.
A long hoarse whistle startled them.
"A freight train!" cried Sube. "If it stops, we'll jump it!"
They tumbled down the stairs, blew out the candle, and restoring it to
its hiding place, started on a run for the railroad station some three
blocks away. As they passed under an electric light on the corner they
heard a shout behind them; but instead of stopping to investigate they
put on more speed. After a little Gizzard looked back and caught a
glimpse of their pursuer.
"It's Dan Lannon all right!" he panted. "And he's after us!"
The fugitives pressed forward to the very limit of their speed. Suddenly
with a roar and a rumble the freight train pulled into the station and
came to a stop, effectively blocking the street along which they were
going. To clamber aboard at that point was not to be thought of, for an
electric light at the crossing made the entire neighborhood as light as
day. A flank movement was inevitable.
Sube dashed to the right, calling to Gizzard to follow. But Gizzard had
already started towards the left. By the time the boys discovered their
mistake the enemy was already threatening their lines of communication;
and so they were separated.
Gizzard skirted the rear end of the freight train and went directly
home, where he was sent to bed and no questions asked. But Sube cut in
between two houses, fell over a flower bed, caught his chin on a
clothesline, tore his pants on a barbed-wire fence, and skinned his knee
against a woodpile. Then he found himself in his own back yard with no
place to go. He tarried in the dark shadows recovering his wind and
feeling, no doubt, quite like the prodigal son. But he did not tarry
long. There were too many mysterious sounds on all sides to suit him. He
must go somewhere. Only one place presented itself; so he clambered up a
post of the back porch, and slipping through the window was soon cuddled
up spoon-fashion to his sleeping brother, Cathead.
And there his mother found him an hour later, sound asleep. She called
his father. "Look in the bed," she said. "Here we've been worrying about
Sube and all the time he was right where he belonged. He must have come
in while you were talking to Mr. Lannon."
"That's very likely," his father agreed; "but I wonder what he's been up
to. I'm always suspicious of Sube when he does anything he ought to."
"Don't you think you'd better call up Mr. Lannon and tell him that Sube
has come home? He might go all around looking for him."
"Don't you worry about Dan Lannon! He won't bother himself to look for
anybody unless he has received his mileage in advance. I didn't ask him
to look for Sube, anyway; I simply told him to send the boy home if he
happened to see him."
When Sube woke up the bright sunlight was streaming in the window. He
was inclined to believe that the whole affair had been a nightmare. But
a lump on his knee and a ragged rent in his trousers seemed to indicate
that parts of it, at least, were real. It was soon apparent that Cathead
knew nothing of his brother's criminal offense, for immediately on
waking up he asked:
"Where were you so late last night?"
"Nowheres much. Just round here everyplace."
"Who was with you?"
"Giz."
"Jus' the two of you?"
"Yes, the two of us! Say, what you think this is? A game of truth?"
"You better go to bed earlier," replied Cathead, "if it makes you so
dern' cross to stay up late."
"Boys!" called their mother from the foot of the stairs. "Breakfast is
ready! Come right down!"
When Sube reached the breakfast table and observed that his father had
already gone he breathed a sigh of relief. Then it struck him that it
might be an unfavorable sign. To his guilty conscience everything seemed
suspicious. He glanced furtively at his mother and was not reassured.
Something about her reminded him of the way she looked the day she took
him to the dentist to have a tooth pulled.
"I didn't hear you come in last night, Sube," she remarked at length.
Sube started. "Ma'am?" he said defensively; then it occurred to him that
he did not care to have the question repeated, and he added quickly,
"No, ma'am."
"You must have come in while Mr. Lannon was here."
Sube swallowed hard. "Yes, ma'am," he almost whispered.
"Nobody heard you come in. When you slip in so quietly you ought to let
me know. There's no telling how long Mr. Lannon may have hunted for
you--"
The telephone rang. Mrs. Cane answered. It was Mr. Cane inquiring
whether the carpenter had come to do some work on the barn. Sube heard
his mother say:
"Yes, he's here now."
A moment later he heard her say in a low tone: "No, I won't let him get
away before you come--"
Sube did not wait to hear more. He quietly rose from his chair and
slipped out of the front door. The back door would have been better, but
it was directly in line with his mother's vision. As he leaped down the
front steps he found himself face to face with Mrs. Rude, and before he
could begin the retreat he instantly planned she opened fire on him.
"Good morning, Sube!" she called pleasantly. "I've found my kittie! She
came back last night!"
Out of a whirling brain Sube tried to direct a suitable reply. The best
he could do was:
"Yes'm."
For a moment his burden seemed to slip from him. Mrs. Rude wasn't after
him at all! But when it began to dawn on him that it must have been
Nancy after all who had put the police on his trail, his last state was
worse than his first. His senses were paralyzed. He became deaf, dumb
and blind. A young lady passing along the street found it necessary to
speak to him twice before she was able to attract his attention.
At the second "Hello, Sube!" he turned, outrage written on every
feature. But Nancy seemed to concede to him the right to be peevish, for
she spoke again even more sweetly than before.
"See what _I've_ got!"
[Illustration]
And for the first time Sube saw in her arms a fluffy mass of white fur
adorned by a huge pink bow.
It was her kitten!
Again Sube had the empty feeling; but this time it was, no doubt,
because he had slighted his breakfast. Nancy passed on. And as he stood
gazing after her he was dimly conscious of the stopping of an
automobile; but he did not turn his eyes. He was too much engrossed in
loving or hating; he didn't know which.
"Good morning, young man!"
Sube reluctantly turned his gaze to the speaker. It was Professor
Silver--the one person in all the world (next to Dan Lannon) that Sube
did not care to see. As the desperate boy battled with the temptation to
turn and run, the professor began aggressively:
"Now, young man, I had an opportunity to motor to Geneva last evening
with a friend of mine; and when I found there was plenty of room, I
thought it an excellent opportunity to deliver the cats you had on hand.
I was unable to find you about, so I took the liberty of appropriating
some gunnysacks that were hanging in the barn."
Sube tried to speak, but before he was able to produce an intelligible
sound, the professor began again.
"Now, young man, there were two of those cats that I could not use on
account of their long fur. Persian cats are of absolutely no use to our
biological department. So I let the two go. That leaves ten
merchantable cats to be accounted for at fifty cents a head." He held
out to Sube a five dollar bill as he added: "I trust this will be
satisfactory, young man. I want to be perfectly fair; but I do not feel
that I should be required to pay for something that I could not use."
Sube gazed at the banknote in his hand and wondered if he was in the
midst of another dream as he gulped out something that the professor
took to be an acceptance of his offer, and retired. Sube was still
gazing at the banknote when Cathead came out of the house.
"Oh, where'd you get that!" cried Cathead as he spied the greenback.
The sound of Cathead's voice brought Sube back to his senses. He folded
up the bill with a pleasant crackling sound and thrust it into his
pocket, and turning to Cathead said loftily:
"I owe a feller two dollars and a half; but that is neither here nor
there. Want to go 'long and see me pay it to him?"