An extraordinary state of affairs was discovered by the relief party of
constables, city and county detectives and state constabulary sent to
the relief of Sheriff Muldoon and his posse, who have been on the track
of the C. & L. train bandits since last Monday.
The relief party was sent out in response to a telephone message from a
farmhouse in Thunder Cloud Glen, and transmitted from the farmer’s line
to a long-distance wire. This message was to the effect that the sheriff
and his posse, shut in a cave, were being held prisoners by the outlaws,
being shot at steadily, and that so far every attempt at escape had been
thwarted by the terrific fire of the bandits.
A relief party in automobiles was rushed at once to the scene.
Thunder Cloud Glen is a narrow valley between the Camel’s Back and
Thunder Cloud Mountain. A mile or so from the entrance to the glen the
road, always bad and now almost washed away by the recent heavy rains,
became impassable. The party abandoned the machines and in skirmish
order proceeded up the glen.
Within an hour’s time firing was heard, and the rescuers doubled their
pace. Passing a bend in the valley, the scene of the outrage lay spread
before them: On the left the low mouth of a cave, and across the valley,
on a slope of the Camel’s Back, a faint cloud of smoke, showing where
the outlaws had their lair. As the rescuers came in sight the firing
ceased and an ominous stillness hung over the valley.
The relief expedition had been seen by the imprisoned party also.
Muldoon’s well-known soft felt hat, tied to the end of a pole, was
thrust from the cave mouth and waved vigorously up and down, showing
that some of the imprisoned party still lived. One solitary shot was
aimed at the hat, followed by profound quiet.
Using every precaution, Deputy Sheriff Mulcahy deployed his men with the
intention of closing in on the outlaws from all sides at the same
time.
At this time an interesting interruption occurred. From the underbrush
at the foot of the Camel’s Back emerged three elderly women, their
clothing in tatters, and in the wildest excitement. They insisted that
the outlaws were in the cave, and hysterical with fright from their
terrible experience, declared that they had been holding the bandits in
check and demanded the reward for their capture. They were rational
enough in other ways and explained that they had been on a walking tour
with a donkey. There was, however, no donkey.
Deputy Sheriff Mulcahy, who is noted for his gallantry, sent the three
women to a safe place at the rear of the party and detailed a guard to
make them comfortable. It being thought possible that the women were
accomplices of the outlaws, precautions were also taken to prevent their
escape.
No trace of the outlaws was found. Sheriff Muldoon and his three
deputies, now enabled to leave the cave, joined the searchers. Every
inch of Thunder Cloud Glen was searched, but without result. Across from
the cave mouth, behind a heap of fallen rocks, was found the spot from
which the outlaws had been shooting. The ground was trampled and the
rock chipped by the return fire from the cave. Here, too, was found a
new automatic revolver, a small rifle and another gun of antique
pattern. In a crevice of rock was discovered a flowered-silk bag,
containing various articles of feminine use, including a packet of
powders marked “hay fever,” a small bottle labeled “blackberry cordial,”
and a dozen or so unexploded cartridges for the revolver.
Convinced now that the three women were accomplices of the outlaws—and
this corroborated by Sheriff Muldoon’s statement that he had positively
seen one of the three women peering over the rock and aiming a rifle at
him, and that the same woman, two days before, had fired at him from the
valley, knocking his gun out of his hand—Deputy Sheriff Mulcahy
promptly arrested the women and had them taken in an automobile to the
city.
At the jail, however, it was discovered that an unfortunate error had
been made, and the ladies were released. They went at once to their
homes. While their names have not been divulged it is reported that they
are well known and highly esteemed members of the community, and much
sympathy has been expressed for their disagreeable experience.
Up to a late hour last night no trace had been found of the outlaws. It
is believed that they have left Thunder Cloud Glen and have penetrated
farther into the mountains.
* * * * *
Charlie Sands came for us at the jail. He asked us no questions, which I
thought strange, but he got a carriage and took us all to Tish’s. He did
not speak a word on the way, except to ask us if we had no hats. On
Tish’s replying meekly that we had left them in the cave, he said
nothing more, but sat looking like a storm until we drew up at the
house.
I dare say we did look curious. Our clothes were torn and draggled, and
although we had washed at the jail we were still somewhat
powder-streaked and grimy.
Charlie Sands led us into Tish’s parlor and shut the door. Then he
turned and surveyed the three of us.
“Sit down,” he said grimly.
We sat. He stood looking down at each of us in turn.
“I’ll hear the story in a minute,” he said, still cold and disagreeable.
“But first of all, Aunt Tish, I want to ask you if you realize that this
last escapade of yours is a disgrace to the family?”
“Nothing of the sort,” Tish asserted with something of her old spirit.
“It was all for Aggie’s missionary dime. I——”
“A moment,” he said, holding up his hand. “I’m going to ask a question.
I’ll listen after that. _Did you or did you not hold up the C. & L.
express car?_”
We were too astounded to speak.
“Because if you did,” he said, “missionary dime or no missionary dime, I
shall turn you over to the authorities! I have gone through a lot with
you, Aunt Tish, in the past year.”
Aggie and I expected to see Tish rise in majesty and point him out of
the room. But to our amazement she broke down and cried.
“No,” she said feebly, “we didn’t rob the car. But oh, Charlie, Charlie!
We nursed that wretch Muldoon, and fed him and sent him off on Modestine
in Aggie’s gray alpaca, and he got away; and if you say to go to jail
I’ll go.”
“Muldoon!”
“The wretch who said he was Muldoon. The—the train robber.”
Well, it took hours to tell the story, and when we had all finished and
Aggie had gone to bed in Tish’s spare room with hysteria, and Tish had
gone to bed with tea and toast, Charlie Sands was still walking up and
down the parlor, stopping now and then to mutter: “Well, I’ll be——”
and then going on with his pacing.
Hannah brought me a cup of junket at eight o’clock, for none of us had
eaten dinner. I was sitting there with the cup in my lap when the
doorbell rang. Charlie Sands answered it. It was a letter addressed to
all three of us.
We called Tish and Aggie and they crept in, very subdued and pallid.
Charlie Sands opened the letter and read it:
_Dear and Charming Ladies:_ I am abject. What can I say to you, who have
just come through such an experience on my account? How can I apologize
or explain? Especially as I am confused myself as to what really
happened. Did Muldoon actually attack the cave? Were you in it when he
arrived? Or is it possible that, with my foolish fabrication in your
mind, you attempted—— But that is absurd, of course.
Whatever occurred and however it occurred, I am on my knees to you all.
Even a real bandit would have been touched by your kindness. And I am
not a real bandit any more than I am a real sheriff.
I am an ordinary citizen, usually a law-abiding citizen. But as a
result of a foolish wager at my club, brought about by the ease with
which numerous trains have been robbed recently, I undertook to hold up
a C. & L. train with an empty revolver, and to evade capture for a
certain length of time. The first part was successful. The train
messenger, on seeing my gun, handed me, without a word, a fat package. I
had not asked for it. It was a gift. I do not even now know what is in
it. The newspapers say it is money. It might have been eggs, as far as I
know. The second part would have been simple also, had I not hurt my
leg.
Things were looking serious for me when you found me. I shall never
forget the cave, or the omelets, or the tea, or the fudge. I can never
return your hospitalities, but one thing I can do.
The express company offers a reward of a thousand dollars for my little
package. Probably they are right and it is not eggs. Whatever it is, it
is buried under the tree where we tied our noble steed, Modestine.
Please return the package and claim the reward. If you have scruples
against taking it remember that the express company is rich and the Fiji
Islanders needy. Turn it in as the increased increment on Miss Aggie’s
missionary dime.
(Signed)
THE OUTLAW OF THUNDER CLOUD.
We found the package, or Charlie Sands found it for us, and the express
company paid us the reward. We gave it to Aggie, and with the exception
of fifty dollars she turned it all in at the church, where it created
almost a riot. With the fifty dollars we purchased, through Charlie
Sands, a revolver with a silver inlaid handle, and sent it to the real
Sheriff Muldoon. It eased our consciences somewhat.
That was all last spring. It is summer now. Tish is talking again of
flowering hedgerows and country lanes, but Aggie and I do not care for
the country, and the mere sight of a donkey gives me a chill.
Yesterday evening, on our way to prayer meeting, we heard a great noise
of horns coming and stopped to see a four-in-hand go by. A young
gentleman was driving, with a pretty girl beside him. As we lined up at
the curb he turned smiling from the girl and he caught our eyes.
He started, and then, bowing low, he saluted us from the box.
It was “Muldoon.”