JACK TAKES A PRISONER
Jack had been gone a couple of hours and it had become quite dark, when
our dog Found, by growling, pricking up his ears, and looking toward
the road, gave notice that some one was approaching.
On listening closely we could hear some one coming, but the tramping
sounded like that of a horse. We had made no light after dark, for we
did not intend to cook any supper and our experience in the Indian
country had taught us to dispense with lights when in the vicinity of
an enemy.
As soon as we were assured that the coming party, whoever they were,
were making for our camp, Tom whispered: "Get your gun an' follow me."
With that he took his rifle and, advancing stealthily for several
paces toward the approaching persons--whose voices we could hear--he
squatted down in a patch of weeds on the path leading to the road while
I followed and did the same. We had chained the dog to a wheel of the
wagon lest he should rush on the newcomers before we could find out who
they were.
We had scarcely got settled in the position we had taken when we
discerned two dark bodies nearing us that seemed to be a man on foot
and, just behind him, a mounted man.
Letting them come on till they were within a few feet of the muzzles of
our rifles, Tom's voice suddenly rang out:
"_Halt! Who comes there?_"
We could now see plainly that there were but two persons, a footman and
a mounted man, and heard a prompt response from the horseman, in the
unmistakable voice of our Irishman, as they both suddenly stopped.
"Jack, with a prisoner!" This sounded agreeable but mystifying, but the
speaker enlightened us by adding: "I've captured Tucker, the jayhawker,
and his horse."
We all moved back to our tent and struck a light to take a look at
Jack's captures and hear his explanation. But the Irishman declined
to talk in the presence of his prisoner more than to answer a few
commonplace questions.
By the light of the candle we saw Jack had tied the prisoner's
arms together at the elbows, behind his back, with the end of the
jayhawker's lariat, while with the other end securely fastened to the
horn of his saddle he had been driving the fellow before him.
The desperado seemed now very crestfallen and by no means pugnacious
and had nothing to say.
"What are you going to do with him, Jack?" I asked in hearing of the
captive.
"Oh, make a 'spread eagle' of him on a hind wheel of the wagon till
morning I suppose, an' then take him down to the timber an' hang him
an' be done with him," he replied as he began to put the first part of
this programme into execution.
The "spread eagle" is made by requiring the prisoner to stand with his
back against a hind wheel of a wagon; his arms are then stretched out
on each side and tied by the wrists to the upper rim of the wheel,
while his ankles, with feet spread apart, are tied in like manner to
the bottom of the wheel. The prisoner can ease himself a little by
sitting on the hub of the wheel, but this affords an insecure and
uncomfortable seat.
As soon as we had securely spread the big jayhawker on the wheel,
Jack left me to watch him, with a caution to see that he did not work
himself loose, while he unsaddled and picketed out the fine black horse
he had captured. When this was accomplished he called Tom and me off to
one side, far enough to be out of hearing of the prisoner, taking the
precaution to place the light near the open tent door where it would
shine on our "spread eagle," so that we could see if he made any effort
to free himself, and then Jack gave us a detailed account of his trip.
"When I got to a place in the timber where I could see the store, I
saw that the jayhawkers' horses was all hitched to the fence an' I
knew they was inside. Pretty soon they all comes out an' mounts, an'
all except this man Tucker struck out toward their camp. After seein'
them off, Tucker mounted an' struck off in a different direction, up
the creek like. I couldn't make out what he was up to, but I thought I
would go in an' have a chat with the storekeeper as soon as the coast
was clear. I went in an' had quite a talk with the ol' man, an', sure
enough, he had heard enough of their talk to make sure that their
plan was about what Tom had guessed it would be. They would go back
to their camp an' wait till after midnight, an' then mount an' take a
circuit 'round our camp, pass, an' git ahead of us, an' lay for us in
the timber at the crossing of the next creek, which the old man says is
only a mile and a half from here. Tucker had concluded that while he
sent his men back to camp he would ride over the route they intended to
take an' look at the lay of the land so as to be able to place his men
to the best advantage to get the drop on us.
"In going to the place he had kept up the creek for a piece an' then
circled 'round across the prairie to the little creek so's not to be
seen or heard by any of us here; but in comin' back he had followed the
main road, 'cause he knew it was too dark by that time for any of us to
tell who he was as he passed along the road.
"I was just comin' out of the timber, after crossin' the creek this
side of the store, on my way back to camp, when I spied him a-comin'
down the hill toward me at a walk, an' I squatted down so's to get him
'tween me an' the sky, to get a better view of him, to make sure it was
him; an' then I made up my mind to take him in right there.
"So I got back behind a tree right beside the road, an' when he got
nearly to me I stepped out with both barrels cocked an' called out to
him to halt. He pulled up, sudden like, with a jerk, an' asked: 'What's
up? What's up?'
"'Don't you make a motion toward your pistols,' says I, 'or I'll put
two big loads of buckshot into you.' I wasn't more'n six feet from
him, an' he must have seen that he had no show to get away or draw a
gun. 'Now,' says I, 'do just as I order you, an' don't you try any
foolishness, or I'll fill you full of lead. First thing,' says I,
'unbuckle that belt an' drop belt an' pistols in the road.' He did
so, at the same time saying: 'Pardner, I reckon you've mistook me for
somebody else. Who do you take me fur and who are you, anyway?'
"'I've made no mistake,' I answered. 'You're Tucker, the jayhawker, an'
I'm Jack, the giant-killer'--an' wasn't that a big bluff? 'Now,' says
I, 'back out a step till I pick up your guns.'
"He did so, an' I kept a close watch of him while I gathered in his
battery an' buckled the belt around me over my own.
"Then I commanded, 'Dismount!' which he did like a little man, an' I
made him tie his horse to a tree; an' then I undone his lariat from
his saddle an' made him turn his back to me while I tied his elbows
together behind his back with one end of the lariat; an' with the other
end made fast to the horn of the saddle, with a good holt of it in me
fist, I mounted his fine horse an' druv him before me, as you saw.
"An now what are we to do with him? No doubt he deserves hanging, as
they all do, but it ain't my style to kill a helpless prisoner an' I
know you nor Tom wouldn't do such a thing, though I told Tucker, comin'
along--just to keep him well scared up that we would hang him in the
mornin', sure as fate, as soon as it was light enough to see how to do
a good job of it; an' I b'lieve he's afeard we're going to do it, for
he's been mighty serious ever since. Ef we was nigh to any of Uncle
Sam's sogers we could just turn him over to them, an' they'd fix him,
sure, for the order is out fer these jayhawkers to be exterminated
to death or druv out of Kansas, an' the sogers is huntin' 'em down
wherever they can hear of 'em. By the way, the ol' storekeeper told
me that he had sent off that letter, by the mail that went past this
evenin', to General Hunter, at Leavenworth, askin' him to send a few
sogers out along the Santa Fé road to look after these fellers."
While Jack had been telling us all this we had been standing far enough
away from the prisoner so that we were sure he could not hear what was
said.
Tom, while apparently listening to Jack, asked no questions and offered
no suggestions but seemed wrapped in his own thoughts, and I knew, from
often having seen him in a similar revery, that he was studying out
some "strategy," as he would call it, to spring on our enemies, the
jayhawkers.
When Jack came to a pause Tom began:
"Men, we can't afford to fool away much more time with these robbers.
An idea struck me when I saw that big fellow tied to the wagon wheel,
an' I've been ponderin' on it ever since, an' if we can carry out the
scheme I think I see a way of running a bluff on him an' his gang that
will scare 'em out of this neighborhood, an' that will be the next best
thing to killing 'em an' we won't have to stay here. Now, listen an'
I'll give you a hint of my plan. We'll go into the tent, where we'll
be close enough to him for Tucker to hear what we're saying ef he
listens right sharp, an' I know he'll do that. I'll give you two men
a little talk that'll go to show that instead of our being what we've
represented ourselves to be--that is, three wolf hunters goin' out to
the buffalo range--we are really three soldiers disguised this way an'
sent out here to do a little detective service on purpose to locate
this gang of jayhawkers, an' that the company of cavalry to which we
belong is coming on close behind us, ready to swoop down an' gobble up
the gang as soon as I give 'em the word. An' then, when we git Tucker
to take this all in we'll manage to let him escape an' carry this news
to his gang; an' ef I ain't badly mistaken they'll pack up an' pull out
from here as quick as they can get away. Now, mind you, I'm sergeant in
charge."
"Be the powers o' mud," exclaimed Jack. "That's a fine scheme if we can
only make it work, ef it pans out the way you've planned it. Tom--or
sergeant, I should have said--I'll always think that a great general
was sp'ilt when they made only a private of you. Now go ahead with your
rat killin' an' let's be tryin' it on."
As our conference ended we strolled back to the tent and Tom began
giving orders for guarding our prisoner through the night.
"Now, men, we'll divide the night into three parts, like a 'running
guard,' an' each one of us'll take a third of the night to stand post.
An', mind you, don't go to sleep on post or the prisoner might git
away. I guess we'll let Jack take the first watch, an' you, Peck,
can come on for the middle tour, an' you may call me up for the last
turn. Ef you think you won't git sleepy you might bring out one of the
camp-chairs an' take a seat where you can keep a close watch of the
prisoner; but ef you find yourself gittin' the least bit drowsy you
must get up an' walk about, for it won't do for the sentry to go to
sleep to-night."
"Why, fellows," whined the big jayhawker, "you shorely don't mean to
leave me in this fix all night, do you? I don't see how I can stan' it
so long."
"Well, as to that," said Jack with a fierce look of assumed
heartlessness, "ef it'd be any accommodation to you we might be able
to rig up some sort of a gallows out about the barn an' swing you off
to-night so's you wouldn't have to stan' there all night. Come to
think of it," he continued, turning to Tom and me, "that would be a
good scheme for us as well as to put the prisoner out of his misery,
fer ef we hang him to-night instead of waitin' till mornin' we'll save
ourselves the trouble of standing guard over him, an' that's quite an
item. What do you say to it?"
But Tom and I decided that with no better light than a candle, which
the wind might blow out, the jayhawker might escape, and if he didn't
we would not be able to do a good job of hanging with so poor a light.
And the prisoner concluded that he would try and worry through the
night on the wagon wheel rather than put us to so much inconvenience.