We prepare to fight the Robbers and I make a little Trip out to Bill
Mountain's House: after I come back I show what a great Fool I can be.
The next minute I was back in the depot reading this letter to the
others. When I had finished they all looked pretty blank. At last Jim
Stackhouse said:
"Well, I'd like to know what we're going to do about it?"
Tom Carr laughed. "If they come it will be the duty of the street
commissioner to remove 'em for obstructing the car lines," he said.
I don't think Andrew understood this joke, though the rest of us
laughed, partly, I guess, to keep up our courage.
"Well," went on Carr, "there's one thing sure--we can't send them five
thousand dollars even if we wanted to; and we don't want to very much.
I don't believe there is a hundred dollars in the whole town outside
of Clerkinwell's safe."
"What do you suppose there is in that?" asked Baker.
"There might be a good deal and there might not be so much," said
Carr. "I heard that he saved $20,000 out of the failure of his
business back east and brought it out here to start new with. He
certainly didn't take any of it away with him, nor use much of it
here. He might have sent it back some time ago, but it hasn't gone
through the express office if he did."
"Nor it hasn't gone through the post-office," said Frank Valentine. "I
guess it's in the safe yet, most of it."
"Very likely," answered Carr. "But even if it is I don't believe Pike
and those fellows would know enough to get it out unless they had all
day to work at it; and what would we be doing all that time?"
"Shooting," said Jim Stackhouse; but I thought he said it as if he
would rather be doing anything else. I didn't know so much about men
then as I do now, but I could see that Tom Carr was the only man in
the lot that could be depended on in case of trouble.
"Well, how are we fixed for things to shoot with?" went on Carr.
"I've got a repeating rifle," answered Valentine. "So have you, and so
has Cy. I guess Sours left some shooting-irons behind, too, didn't he,
Jud?"
"Yes; a Winchester and a shot-gun," I replied.
"There are some other shot-guns in town, too," continued Valentine.
"But I guess the best show for us is in Taggart's hardware store. When
he went away he left the key with me, and there's a lot of stuff boxed
up there."
"Go and see about it and let's pull ourselves together and find out
what we're doing," said Carr. "I think we can stand off those fellows
all right if we keep our eyes open. I suppose they are up at the
headquarters of the old Middleton gang on Cattail Creek, the other
side of the Missouri. The men that went through here with that pony
herd last fall were some of them, and the ponies were all stolen, so
that Billings sheriff said. I guess Pike has joined them, and I should
think they would suit each other pretty well."
In a little while Valentine came back and said he had found a dozen
repeating rifles, and that he thought there were more in some of the
other boxes. There was also plenty of cartridges and some revolvers
and shot-guns.
"That fixes us all right for arms," said Carr. "Before night we must
organize and get ready to defend the town against an attack if it
should come; but I think the next thing is to send a letter out to
Mountain's house and put it where they will look for the money,
warning them to keep away if they don't want to be shot."
"Yes," answered Valentine, "that will be best. Write 'em a letter and
make it good and stiff."
Tom went into the back room and soon came out with a letter which read
as follows:
TRACK'S END, _December_ 16.
TO D. PIKE AND FELLOW-THIEVES,--You will never get one cent out of
this town. If any of you come within range you will be shot on sight.
We are well armed, and can carry out our share of this offer.
COMMITTEE OF SAFETY.
"I guess that will do," said Tom. "There isn't any poetry in it, but I
reckon they'll understand it. Now, Jud, what do you say to taking it
out and leaving it on Mountain's door?"
"All right," I answered; "I'll do it."
"Probably Jim had better go along with you," said Carr. "I don't think
any of them are there, but you can take my field-glass and have a look
at the place when you get out to Johnson's."
We all went to dinner, and by the time Jim and I were ready to start
the sky had clouded over and threatened snow. I said nothing, but
slipped back into the hotel and filled my pockets with bread and cold
meat. I thought it might come handy. It was so cold and the snow was
so deep that we had decided to go on foot instead of horseback, but we
found it slow work getting along. Where the crust held us we made good
time, but most of the way we had to flounder along through soft
drifts.
At Johnson's we took a long look at Mountain's with the glass, but
could see no signs of life. It began to snow soon after leaving here,
and several times we lost sight of the place we were trying to reach,
but we kept on and got there at last. The snow was coming down
faster, and it seemed as if it were already growing dark.
"It isn't going to be very safe trying to find our way back to-night,"
said Jim. "Let's see what the prospect for staying here is."
We pushed open the door. It was a board shanty with only one room, and
that half full of snow. But there was a sheet-iron hay stove in one
end and a stack of hay outside. I told Jim of the food which I had
brought.
"Then we'll stay right here," he said. "It's ten to one that we miss
the town if we try to go back to-night. Our tracks are filled in
before this."
We set to work with an old shovel and a piece of board and cleaned out
the snow, and then we built a fire in the stove. We soon had the room
fairly comfortable. The stove took twisted hay so fast that the work
did more to keep us warm than the fire.
We divided the food for supper, leaving half of it for breakfast. It
made a pretty light meal, but we didn't complain. I wondered what we
should do if the storm kept up the next day, and I suppose Jim thought
of the same thing; but neither of us said anything about that. I sat
up the first half of the night and fed the fire, while Jim slept on a
big dry-goods box behind the stove, and he did as much for me during
the last half.
It was still snowing in the morning. We divided the food again,
leaving half of it for dinner, which left a breakfast lighter than the
supper had been. We were a good deal discouraged. But soon after noon
it stopped snowing and began to lighten up. It was still blowing and
drifting, but we thought we might as well be lost as to starve; so we
left the letter behind the board on the door and started out.
We got along better than we expected. The wind had shifted to the
northwest, so it was at our backs. We passed Johnson's deserted house
and finally came within sight of the town through the flying snow. We
were not twenty rods from the station when suddenly Jim exclaimed:
"Why, there's a train!"
Sure enough, just beyond the station was an engine with a big
snow-plow on it, with one freight-car and a passenger-car. A dozen
men with shovels stood beside it stamping their feet and swinging
their arms to keep from freezing. There were faces at the car-windows,
and Burrdock and Tom Carr were walking up and down the depot platform.
We came up to them looking pretty well astonished, I guess.
"When I got to the Junction yesterday I got orders to take another
train and come back here and get you folks," said Burrdock in answer
to our looks. "Just got here after shoveling all night, and want to
leave as soon as we can, before it gets to drifting any worse. This
branch is to be abandoned for the winter and the station closed. Hurry
up and get aboard!"
Jim and I were both too astonished to speak.
"Yes," said Tom Carr, "we were just starting after you when we saw you
coming. We're going to take Sours's horses and the cow in the box-car.
I just sent Andrew over after them--and the chickens, too, if he can
catch them."
I don't know how it was, but my face flushed up as hot as if it had
been on fire. I felt the tears coming into my eyes, I was in that
state of passion.
"Tom," I said, "who was left in charge of Sours's things?"
"Why--why, you were," answered Tom, almost as much astonished as I had
been a moment before.
"Who gave you authority to meddle with them?" I said.
"Nobody. But I knew you wouldn't want to leave them here to starve,
and I did it to save time."
"They're not going to starve here," I said, getting better control of
my voice. "Call Andrew back this minute. You've neither of you the
right to touch a thing that's there."
"But surely you're going with the rest of us?" said Tom.
"No, I'm not," I answered.
Tom turned and started toward the town.
"Now, don't make a fool of yourself, young man," said Burrdock. "This
here town is closed up for the winter. You won't see the train here
again before next March."
"The train won't see me, then, before next March," I said. "Jim, are
you going with the rest of them?"
"Well, I'm not the fellow to do much staying," he answered.
I turned and started for the hotel; Burrdock muttered something which
I didn't catch. I saw Andrew going toward the train, but without any
of the animals. Tom came down the street and met me. He held out his
hand and said:
"Jud, I admire you. I'd stay with you if I could, but the company has
ordered me to come, and I've got to go. But it's a crazy thing for you
to do, and you'd better come along with us, after all."
"No," I said, "I'm going to stay." (It was a foolish pride and
stubbornness that made me say it; I wanted to go already.)
"Well, good-by, Jud."
"Good-by, Tom," I said.
He walked away, then turned and said:
"Now, Jud, for the last time: Will you come?"
"No, I won't!"
In another minute the train rolled away, with Tom standing on the back
platform with his hand on the bell-rope ready to pull it if I signaled
him to stop.
But I didn't. I went on over to the Headquarters House. It was
beginning to get dark; and the snow was falling again. The door was
stuck fast, but I set my shoulder against it and pushed it open. The
snow had blown in the crack and made a drift halfway across the floor.
I put my hand on the stove. It was cold, and the fire was out.