CAUGHT AT LAST.
After Sandy and I left the camp, our fellows busied themselves in
various ways—Duke kindling a fire, Herbert gathering a supply of wood,
and Mark whittling out some spits on which to cook the squirrels. When
this had been done, they seated themselves on the ground about the fire,
and passed the time in discussing the exciting events that had happened
during the last two weeks.
While they were thus engaged they heard some one coming down the bank of
the bayou. The bushes were so thick that they could not see who it was,
but they could tell by the sound of his horse’s hoofs that he was
approaching the camp, and that he was in something of a hurry.
The question “Who is it?” which our fellows all asked at once, did not
remain long unanswered. The sound of the hoofs grew louder and louder,
and presently a horseman emerged from the bushes, and came toward them
at a rapid gallop.
He was gazing earnestly toward the opposite bank of the bayou, and the
first intimation he had of the presence of our fellows was the chorus of
ejaculations they uttered the instant their eyes rested on him. Then he
pulled up his horse with a jerk, and gazed at them with a countenance
indicative of intense surprise and alarm.
One glance showed our fellows three things—that the man was Luke Redman,
that he was mounted on Black Bess, and that he carried General Mason’s
valise strapped on behind his saddle.
The meeting was so unexpected to both parties, that for a moment no one
moved or spoke. The robber sat on his horse—_my_ horse, rather—gazing at
our fellows in stupid bewilderment, and our fellows looked at him as if
they could not quite make up their minds whether their eyes were
deceiving them or not.
Duke was the first to recover the use of his tongue.
“Well,” said he, “this is the luckiest thing that has happened to us for
many a day. We are glad to see you, Luke Redman. We’ll trouble you to
dismount, and give up that horse and valise.”
These words seemed to bring the robber to his senses. He raised a short,
heavy gun, which he carried across the horn of his saddle, and cocking
both barrels, growled out:
“I’ll trouble you to mind your own business. If ary one on you moves a
hand or foot until I am acrost this yere bayou, I’ll send a charge of
buckshot among you.”
This warning was uttered in a very savage tone of voice, and there was a
wicked gleam in the robber’s eyes which was enough to convince our
fellows that he meant all he said.
Duke slowly lowered the horn, which he had been on the point of raising
to his lips; and Herbert’s hand, which was stretched out toward his gun,
that stood leaning against a tree close by, fell to his side.
Luke Redman saw the sudden pallor that overspread their faces, and
believing that he had thoroughly frightened them, turned his horse, and
rode down the bank of the bayou.
But the sequel proved that he did not know much about boys, especially
such boys as those who were confronting him at that moment.
They had traveled through every nook and corner of the country,
searching for this very man, and now that he was fairly before them,
should they permit him to escape, and carry off General Mason’s money,
and Black Bess, besides? It was not to be thought of.
“Hold on!” shouted Mark, excitedly. “That horse shan’t carry you a step
further. Your game is up now, Luke Redman!”
The robber, who had never once removed his eyes from the boys, seeing
that Mark was reaching for his gun, quickly raised his own weapon; but
by the time it touched his shoulder there was not one of our fellows in
sight.
They had dodged behind the trees, like so many squirrels, and each one
was blowing his horn with all the power of his lungs, sending up signals
of distress that awoke the echoes far and near.
“Stop that noise, or I’ll shoot some on you!” roared Luke.
“Blow away, boys,” said Mark. “Perhaps some of the settlers are close
by.”
This was just what Luke Redman was afraid of. He knew that the
cane-brakes were full of men, for he had been dodging them all day. The
blasts of the hunting-horns would call up every one of them who might
happen to be within hearing, and thus his chances for escape would be
greatly diminished.
Seeing that he was in a dangerous neighborhood, and knowing that if he
remained there he would certainly get himself into trouble, he dashed
his spurs into his horse, which sprang into the bayou and made the best
of her way toward the opposite bank.
In his rage, he discharged one barrel of his gun, sending the buckshot
in a perfect shower about the trees behind which our fellows were
concealed; but, instead of frightening them, it seemed to add strength
to their lungs, for the signals of distress arose louder and faster than
ever.
The moment Luke emerged from the water, he put his horse into a gallop,
and went flying through the swamp.
I caught sight of him as he came out of the cane-brake, and if I had had
my gun in my hands, I believe I should have lifted him out of that
saddle with as little hesitation as I ever brought down a squirrel.
To see my little Black Bess bounding along with that man on her
back—going, too, with a free step, and arching her glossy neck and
tossing her head as if she enjoyed the rapid motion—I tell you, the
sight made me well-nigh desperate.
It drove all thoughts of the Indians out of my mind, and almost before I
knew it, I was swimming rapidly toward the opposite bank of the bayou.
This was something my captors had not calculated upon, and they were
greatly amazed. I was half way across the stream before they had
realized what I had done.
“Hey, you!” shouted Pete, as soon as he could speak. “Stop! You no stop
and come back, Indian shoot!”
It was in Pete’s power to carry out this threat if he had felt so
inclined, for he held his own rifle and my shot-gun under his arm; but I
had no fear that he would attempt it.
I kept straight ahead, and Pete and his companion, seeing that I could
not be frightened into surrendering myself into their hands, hastily
launched the canoe and started in pursuit.
I was quite at home in the water, and prided myself on being a fast
swimmer; but of course I stood no chance with a canoe propelled by two
athletic Indians.
A few swift strokes with the paddles brought them close upon me; but I
was on the alert, and just as Pete bent down to seize me by the collar,
I sank out of sight.
When I arose to the surface again, I was twenty yards further down the
stream. As I shook the water from my face and looked around for my
enemies, I was surprised to see them paddling with all possible haste
toward the bank they had just left; and the moment they reached it, they
jumped out of the canoe and dived into the bushes like a couple of
frightened deer.
I was not long in finding out what had caused them to abandon their
pursuit of me so suddenly, for scarcely had they disappeared when Duke,
Herbert and Mark galloped up.
When they discovered me crawling out upon the bank, they drew rein and
broke out into a loud chorus of questions and exclamations—one demanding
what I was doing in the water, another asking if that wasn’t Pete who
had just jumped into the bushes on the opposite shore, and the third
shouting out something that I knew very well already, namely, that Luke
Redman had just gone by, mounted on my horse.
I did not attempt to answer their questions, for I could not forget that
Black Bess was very fleet, and that while we were wasting time in
talking, she was fast increasing the distance between us, and lessening
our chances for capturing her and her rascally rider.
“I can’t stop to explain now, fellows,” said I. “Come back, and stand by
me until I get my horse, and then we’ll start in pursuit of that
robber!”
The reason I asked our fellows to “stand by” me was because I knew that
Pete and his companion were not a great way off, and I was afraid that
if I went back to camp alone, they would pounce down upon me and make a
prisoner of me again.
I could see by the expression on my friends’ faces that they did not
exactly understand why I stood in need of protection; but they were too
considerate to waste any more time in asking questions.
I led the way up the bank at a rapid run, and in a few minutes we
arrived opposite to the camp.
Duke was on the point of riding across the bayou to bring my horse, when
Sandy Todd came in sight, carrying four squirrels in his hand, and
moving along with a slow and deliberate step that was exceedingly
aggravating to us just then.
His stolid face bore not the least sign of excitement or surprise,
although the first words he uttered showed that he had heard the signals
of distress, and that he had returned to camp in answer to them.
“Now,” said he, “I’d like to know what you fellows were blowin’ them
horns fur?”
“Sandy,” exclaimed Duke, “if you have any get up at all about you, show
it now. Don’t ask any questions, but bring those horses over here at
once.”
Sandy stopped, laid his squirrels carefully at the root of a tree, and
pulling off his hat, ran his fingers through his fiery locks. He looked
all about the camp, then across the bayou at us, surveying us from head
to foot as though he had never seen us before, and when his gaze rested
on me, he drawled out:
“Joe, ain’t this a mighty cold day to go in a-swimmin’?”
“Sandy,” shouted Duke—and he could not help throwing a little impatience
into his tones—“Luke Redman has just gone by here, mounted on Black
Bess, and carrying General Mason’s valise tied fast to his saddle. We
want to follow him up and catch him. Now will you bring those horses
over here?”
Sandy did not exhibit the least astonishment at hearing this piece of
news. He dropped the butt of his gun to the ground, and leaning on the
muzzle of the weapon, said:
“Now I’ll just tell you what’s the matter. Whar’s he bin hid all the
time that we’ve been lookin’ fur him?”
“How do you suppose we know? Bring those horses over here.”
Sandy slung his gun over his shoulder, moved slowly toward the tree to
which his horse was tied, and with his usual deliberation, prepared to
mount. He placed his foot in the stirrup, but immediately took it out
again.
“Fellows,” he shouted, “whar do you reckon Redman got thar mar’? You
know—”
“Yes, I know,” interrupted Duke. “We thought Tom Mason stole her, but it
seems he didn’t. If we don’t see her again, it will be your fault.”
Our fellow began to stir about in earnest now, and I thought it was high
time, for my teeth were chattering, and I was so cold I could scarcely
speak.
When you remember that it was midwinter, that I was as wet as a drowned
rat, and that a fierce north wind was blowing, you will readily perceive
that my situation was far from being a pleasant one.
I would have been glad of the privilege of standing before a roaring
fire for a few minutes, and would thankfully have accepted a suit of dry
clothes; but if I went home I would lose the opportunity of taking part
in the pursuit of Luke Redman, and that was something I could not think
of.
When we had all become so impatient that it did not seem possible we
could wait an instant longer, Sandy came across the bayou with the
horses, and in a few seconds more we were all in the saddle and flying
through the swamp on Luke Redman’s trail.
Sandy saw by our looks that the delay of which he was the cause had
tried our patience severely, and he hastened to apologize for it.
“Fellers,” said he, “I may be slow a-talkin’ an’ a-walkin’, but I am not
slow a-ridin’.”
And so we found it. He took the lead at once, and conducted the pursuit
with a degree of energy that was surprising. For five miles his horse
never broke a gallop; and when at last he drew rein on the bluffs above
Dead Man’s Elbow, we were willing to vote him the most reckless rider we
had ever followed.
Perhaps you will wonder what plan Sandy adopted in conducting the
pursuit, and how he knew whether or not he was following Luke Redman’s
trail. I can explain it in a few words.
I have told you that about a week previous to this time the swamp was
covered with water to the depth of fifteen feet, but it was not so now.
The flood was gradually subsiding, and patches of dry land were making
their appearance all over the swamp.
The ridges were high and dry, and by following them, one could enjoy a
pleasant ride, avoiding the water altogether. It was dangerous, however,
to attempt to pass from one ridge to another, for the lowland, or
“bottom,” as we called it, was covered with a bed of mud, in which a
horse would sink almost out of sight.
Luke Redman, in his flight, had followed one of these ridges, and we
knew that he must follow it to the end, simply because he could not
leave it. We knew, too, that the ridge led directly to Dead Man’s Elbow,
and that when the robber arrived at that point he would be obliged to
abandon Black Bess, for the bluffs were steep, and there was no possible
way of getting her across the bayou.
Another thing we knew was that the ridge ended very abruptly about a
hundred yards from the opposite bank, and beyond that the swamp, with
its impassable bed of mud, extended for miles and miles; so that, even
if the fugitive succeeded in crossing the stream, he could not escape
us.
The only question was, how we should capture him when we found him. He
was armed, and we knew he would not surrender without a fight.
“Here we are,” cried Sandy, reining in his horse on the very brink of
the cliff, “an’ now comes the hardest part of the hul business. The fust
thing is to hunt up that mar’. She’s hid somewhar in these yere bushes.”
We were not long in finding Black Bess, for even as Sandy spoke, a
familiar neigh, which came from a thicket close by, led us to her place
of concealment.
I tell you I was glad to see her, and if one might judge by the way she
pranced about and rubbed her head against my shoulder, she was glad to
see me, too.
She was just as handsome as ever, only her glossy breast was flecked
with foam, showing that she had been driven long and rapidly, and her
usually sleek coat looked as though it had not seen a brush or
curry-comb for a fortnight.
While I was congratulating myself on my good fortune, the rest of our
fellows were looking for General Mason’s valise; but that, of course,
had disappeared.
“We must have pushed him pretty hard,” said Duke, “for he did not have
time to unbuckle the straps with which the valise was fastened to the
saddle, but cut them with his knife. He isn’t far off. Spread out now,
and let us see if we can find any signs of his having crossed the
bayou.”
As we were all expert hunters, and good at following a trail, it did not
take us many minutes to find out what had become of Luke Redman. After a
short search, we discovered the prints of his feet in the soft earth,
and followed them from the thicket in which he had left the horse to the
edge of the bluff, where they ceased.
When we saw that, we were pretty certain that we knew where to find Luke
Redman. He was hidden under the cliff.
My companions unslung their guns with a common impulse—how I wished for
the double-barrel that Pete had carried away with him!—and waited for
somebody to suggest a plan of operations.
“He is under our very feet, and almost within reach of us,” said
Herbert. “Don’t you see that those bushes are bent down and look as
though they had been tramped upon? He did that when he lowered himself
over the side of the cliff.”
“Yes, we’ve treed him easy enough,” said Mark; “but how are we going to
secure him? Luke Redman isn’t the man to allow himself to be captured
and sent to state prison if he can help it, and perhaps he is standing
below there, ready to put a charge of buckshot into the first one who
shows his head over the bluff. I am afraid to try it.”
If Mark was afraid, it was plain that Sandy was not, for he threw
himself flat upon the ground, and, at the imminent risk of losing his
balance and falling into the bayou, thrust his head over the brink of
the cliff and looked under it. He held this position a moment, and then
called out:
“Now, I’ll just tell you what’s the matter with you; you’re ketched!”
“No, I hain’t,” said a gruff voice, in reply. “Better keep close up
thar, or I’ll plug some on you.”
“Ho! ho!” laughed Sandy. “You can’t skeer us none. You’re in a pretty
situation to plug any body, hain’t you now? Fellers, if you want to see
something, just look down here!”
We did look, and, although we expected to see something exciting, we
were little prepared for the sight that was presented to our gaze. We
saw at a glance that we had nothing to fear from our enemy.
A thicket of bushes grew on the side of the bluff directly in front of
the mouth of Dead Man’s Elbow, and there, hanging at arms’ length from
this frail support, his feet almost touching the water, and his dark
features convulsed with terror, was Luke Redman.
The valise hung under one of his arms, supported by a strap which passed
over his opposite shoulder; but his gun was nowhere to be seen. He had
evidently made some desperate attempts to climb up the steep bluff, for
we could see the prints of his knees and feet in the soft earth.
When we had made these observations, we drew back on the cliff to hold a
consultation.
“Hasn’t he got himself into a pretty scrape?” asked Duke, gleefully. “I
understand what has happened as well as if I had been here on the bank
and witnessed it.”
So did the rest of us, for the robber’s situation was a sufficient
explanation of the accident that had befallen him. It had been his
intention to lower himself over the side of the bluff, and find
concealment on the top of the drift-wood which formed one side of the
cavern; but his feet had slipped, or his hold had given way, and he had
fallen down the steep bank almost into the water.
In order to save himself, he dropped his gun, which of course fell into
the bayou, and now he was unarmed. His situation was dangerous in the
extreme, and it was no wonder that he was frightened.
He could not climb up the bluff without assistance, for it was as
slippery as ice; and if he released his hold on the bushes, he would
fall into the water, and be whirled into the cavern before he could have
time to think twice. Dead Man’s Elbow seemed to be an unlucky place for
Luke Redman.
“Now, fellows,” continued Duke, in a hurried whisper, “I’ll tell you
what we will do. We’ll take our halters off our bridles, make them into
a rope, and when Mr. Redman gets tired of hanging to those bushes, we’ll
pass one end of it down to him, and pull him up the bluff.”
“But perhaps he won’t take hold of the rope,” said I. “Then what?”
“Then he can fall into the water and welcome. But there’s no danger of
that. Bad as he is, he isn’t tired of life.”
“What shall we do with him when we get him up here?”
“We’ll jump on him, and tie him hand and foot—that’s what we’ll do with
him. I guess we five fellows are a match for him.”
Duke’s plan was the best that could have been adopted under the
circumstances, and we agreed to it without a word of comment.
In a few moments we had removed our halters from our bridles, and tied
them together, thus forming a rope about thirty feet in length. When
this had been done, we once more stretched ourselves out on the ground,
and looked over the cliff to watch the movements of the robber.
He was struggling desperately to gain a foothold on the bluff; but the
soft earth always gave way beneath him, and when at last he became
exhausted with his efforts, he hung down at arms’ length to recover his
breath, glaring up into our faces with an expression as savage as that
of a caged hyena.
We saw with no little excitement and horror that a few more attempts of
this kind would seal his fate, for the bushes had been loosened by his
frantic struggles, and their roots were slowly but surely giving way.
“Now I’ll jest tell you what’s the matter with you,” shouted Sandy. “The
fust thing you know, you won’t know nothing. If you want any help, sing
out.”
Luke Redman looked up at the bushes, then down at the angry waves which
were dashing wildly against the base of the cliff, and being fully
convinced that there was no other way of escape for him, said, in a
hoarse whisper:
“Lend a hand here!”
“All right! Here you are!” said Duke. And in a moment more, one end of
the rope was dangling over the cliff, and our fellows were holding fast
to the other, ready to hoist away when Duke gave the word. “In order to
guard against accident, you had better pass the rope under your arms,”
continued the latter. “Take it easy. There’s time enough, and the more
you thrash about, the more you exhaust yourself.”
Luke Redman thought it best to act upon Duke’s suggestion; but he had
grown so weak and was so nearly overcome with terror, that it was with
the greatest difficulty that he could make the rope fast under his arms.
He accomplished it at last, however, and then Duke told us to haul away,
adding, in an excited whisper:
“Be ready to grab him the instant his head appears above the cliff.
Don’t flinch now, but be careful to keep out of the way of his fists,
for they are as heavy as sledge-hammers.”
Luke, being utterly unable to help himself, hung like a lump of lead at
the end of the rope, and it was any thing but an easy operation to raise
him to the top of the cliff. He came up slowly, inch by inch, and at
last his head appeared in sight, then his shoulders, and finally the
valise, which Mark instantly pounced upon, while Sandy seized the rascal
by the collar and pulled him upon the bluff.
“Now stand out o’ the way, or I’ll kick some on you into the bayou,”
shouted Luke Redman, whose terror vanished the moment he found himself
on solid ground. “I’ve got a pistol in my pocket.”
“An’ that’s all the good it’ll do you,” replied Sandy, catching the
robber’s hands and pinning them to the ground. “We are a few too many
for you. Show what you’re made of, fellers!”
Tired and weak as Luke Redman was, he had plenty of determination left
in him. He struggled furiously, and scratched and bit like some wild
animal; but he did not kick any of us into the bayou, and neither did he
draw his pistol, simply because we did not give him an opportunity. We
jumped upon him in a body, and while two of us confined his legs, which
he kept flying about like the shafts of a windmill, the others pulled
his arms behind his back and tied them fast. It was all over in five
minutes, and the robber lay panting and foaming on the ground, while we
stood with our hands in our pockets, looking at him.