A SHERIFF’S POSSE.
Of course everybody did as they were told; and when they afterwards
exchanged opinions regarding the ridiculous character of the picture they
must have made, with six boys and two men trying to see who could elevate
his hands the highest, they must always laugh until the tears rolled down
their cheeks.
Somehow all of the scouts just took it for granted that these three
advancing parties must surely be the men of whom they had been talking,
the fleeing desperate rascals who had lately robbed a bank, and were
trying to make the border so that they might cross over into Canada, from
which territory they would be able to make faces at any pursuers.
But Thad, as he began to see the newcomers better, when they drew nearer
the fire, felt relieved. An idea started to flit through his active
brain, to the effect that after all they might not be the thieves, come
back for some purpose, perhaps to recover possession of the little, old,
black tool-bag.
“Now,” called out the tall man who was in the lead, and who seemed to be
in authority, “we know you’re tough cases, and we don’t mean to give any
one of you a chance to play a game on us; so my men will keep you all
covered, while I go the rounds, and put the irons on.”
“Wow!” exclaimed Giraffe, his eyes looking as round as saucers, when he
heard this remark on the part of the supposed terrible yeggman.
“Please go a little slow about that, Mr. Sheriff!” called out Thad. “If
you look again, I’m sure you’ll discover that six of us are only boys,
and that we belong to a troop of scouts. We’re up here on the track of a
Mr. James W. Carson, who is in the woods, with two guides. It is of great
importance that I find him, as I am bearing a communication that means a
heap to both Mr. Carson and my guardian. As for these two men here, they
are our guides, Jim Hasty and Eli Crookes. I guess you ought to know them
both, sir. And there’s another, Sebattis, who is right behind you, gun in
hand, ready to hold you up if you try to do us any harm.”
The tall man whom Thad had rightly guessed to be the sheriff in chase
after the burglars who were fleeing toward the border, gave another look,
and then burst into a loud shout.
“That’s one on us, all right, young fellow,” he remarked. “We wondered
why under the sun our birds had started to hobnob with a crowd of Boy
Scouts; but you never can tell what’s what, when you’re dealing with such
sharp customers, and we didn’t mean to take any chances. It’s all right,
men, you needn’t handle those guns as if you meant to shoot, any longer.
These parties are all right. But what I do want to know is, how came you
by that?”
He pointed as he spoke at the old tool-bag that was lying beside Step
Hen; and evidently he must have recognized it, or else suspected what it
contained.
“That’s mine—er, I mean to say I found the same in the bushes here, when
I was huntin’ something I lost,” and Step Hen held up a little packet
secured in waterproof cloth, which he had evidently since discovered,
just where he formerly laid it down.
“We opened the bag, and guessed that the tools must have been thrown away
by some yeggmen who were making a bolt across country for the Canada
border,” remarked Thad, as the three officers sat down close to the fire
to warm their hands.
“And that’s just what’s what,” responded the sheriff, nodding as he
examined the contents of the bag. “We hope to get ’em in time, because it
means a cool thousand to us, perhaps more, because the reward may have
been doubled after we hit the woods. Sometimes we’ve been hot on the
track, and then again they’d give us the slip, and we’d lose ground. I’ve
often wished we had dogs along; but they’re hard to find; and people,
somehow, don’t like to see dogs up here, since the law put a ban on deer
hounding.”
“I’d like to keep just one of them tools, to remember my find by, if you
didn’t have any objection,” suggested Step Hen anxiously.
“You can keep the whole bunch if you like, son,” answered the sheriff;
“we don’t need any such evidence against these birds, if only we can
ketch ’em. They’re carrying all the evidence we want, in the shape of the
entire capital of the bank they looted so slick.”
“I suppose they broke open the safe in the usual way, with dynamite?”
Thad remarked, quietly.
“Just what they did, though how you guessed it I don’t see,” the sheriff
replied.
“We found something in the bag that told us that,” and Thad, as he spoke,
stepped over to the tree, in the crotch of which he had placed the stick
of dynamite.
Step Hen turned red in the face as he heard the story told of how he had
just been about to throw the unknown substance into the fire when
prevented. The lengthy sheriff looked reproachfully toward him, and
remarked, mildly:
“You want to go slow, my boy, about handling things that you never saw
before. I wouldn’t like to say what would have happened to the lot of
you, once this dropped into that red-hot fire. Many a fool miner has been
blown to atoms because he tried to dry damp dynamite out in an oven, and
let it get too hot. Better ask yourself a few questions before you go to
trying tricks with strange things.”
“Will you spend the night with us, Mr. Sheriff?” asked Thad, thinking
that they ought to appear hospitable, as every one who goes into the
great timber should be.
Besides, he rather fancied this Maine sheriff, and believed that a
session in his company alongside the blazing camp-fire, would be both
pleasant and profitable, as doubtless the officer could relate many
things of interest to the scouts.
But the other shook his head.
“Sorry, but when we’re as close to the heels of our game as this, we must
keep on the move. It requires considerable hustling to run down such a
lively set as those three yeggs. And Charley Barnes, he know his business
up here in the wood, all right. They’ve led us a lively chase up to now;
but the longer we’re held off, the more determined we become to follow
them, night and day, till we bring the lot to bay. They’ve got mighty
little grub along, and we don’t want to let ’em have any time to hunt.
Then perhaps hunger will help us out.”
“But if you’re going on right away,” said Allan, “perhaps you’d let us
make you some hot coffee, Mr. Green?”
The sheriff looked keenly at him, and then held out a hand.
“Seemed like thar was somethin’ kinder familiar about your make-up,” he
said; “now I know you, Allan Hollister. How’s the dad, and the little
lady you call mother? I remember her well; and you too, as a boy who
loved to hunt and fish as well as any lad in all Penobscot county.”
“My father is dead, Mr. Green; but mother is fairly well,” replied the
boy, with a sad tone to his voice. “We are not living in Maine any
longer, but down in New York state, where all these other scouts belong.
But will you drink that coffee, if we make a pot for you?”
The sheriff saw that Allan did not seem inclined to say anything more
about his own family; and so he allowed the subject to drop. But he did
look inquiringly at his two husky deputies, who gave him affirmative as
well as eager nods.
“Just please yourselves, young fellows,” he remarked. “My men look a bit
peaked, because we’ve been hitting it up at quite a warm pace; and I
guess now, they’d enjoy a hot cup right smart. I confess I wouldn’t
object myself, seeing that you’re so pressing.”
The coffee pot was quickly clapped on the red coals, and would soon be
sending out a fragrant odor. Thad meanwhile stated to converse with the
officer, and by asking a few questions learned something concerning the
robbery, of which the three fleeing tramp burglars had been guilty.
According to the sheriff, they were all hard characters, and had served
time in various jails, for other crimes.
“If by chance you did run across the lot,” he observed; “you’d better
look sharp, for they wouldn’t hesitate at anything, if they thought there
was any fear of being held up. Remember that, boys, and govern yourselves
accordingly.”
“Which I take it,” observed the listening Bumpus, “to mean, that we had
ought to get them covered first, if we run up against the crowd.”
“Just what it does, and look out for tricks. That Charley, he’s as full
of sly games as an egg is of meat. H’m! that does smell prime, son. What,
condensed milk along with you, too, and sugar. I must say we struck a
snap when we saw your fire here, after heading for this old camp-ground.
That tastes like nectar, let me tell you: and warms a fellow up inside
better than any strong drink could ever do.”
“Glad you like it,” said Thad; “and we all of us hope you come up with
those three tramp burglars, and gather them in.”
After drinking several cups of the coffee apiece, the sheriff and his
posse of two deputies declared that they ought to be going.
“We’ve got a pretty good hunch as to where they struck for after leaving
here,” remarked the officer, as he shook hands all around, not forgetting
the silent Indian guide; “and if they only stop over a day, so’s to get
some game, why, we expect to surprise them right smart. Good-bye, boys
and good luck. If so be we run across Mr. Carson, whom I happen to know,
why, we’ll tell him you’re on his trail.”
Waving his hand to them, the sheriff walked quickly away, followed by his
two men. And they were heading due north the last the scouts saw of them.
“Wonder if they’ll overtake that active bunch; or will the yeggs get
across the line as they’re planning to do?” Giraffe ventured, as they sat
there, talking over this latest development in the affair, though one or
two of the scouts began to yawn every minute or so, and rub their eyes,
as though growing sleepy.
“Nobody can tell,” Thad remarked; “but that Sheriff Green bears all the
earmarks of an officer who generally get what he goes after.”
“That’s what they say about him,” Allan put in; for he had not been
talking with the rest; something which the sheriff had said, possibly
when asking after his father, had caused the boy to think of things that
had happened in the past, which apparently could not be apt to give him
joy.
By degrees the scouts sought their blankets under the canvas. Thad and
Allan were the last to crawl in. The guides had made themselves
comfortable near the fire, having blankets with them; and the boys
noticed how they all made sure to keep their feet toward the blaze when
selecting places for the night. It was the woodsman’s way, because the
feet are the first part of the body to feel cold, when, during sleep, the
blood fails to circulate as thoroughly as when one is awake, since the
heart slackens its functions, in order to get rested for the next day’s
labor.
Finally all was quiet. The night wind crooned among the trees; an owl
hooted to its mate; but the scouts all slept calmly, with not a fear of
danger.