actions were so strange that I thought you'd best look into his case. A
night in the jail won't hurt him, and if he can prove that he is what he
says he is, let him go to-morrow. On the other hand, he may turn out to
be a very important capture."
"Oh, this is rich!" whispered Crosby excitedly. "Austin is certainly
doing the job up brown. But wait till he consults Swallow, the
infallible; he won't be so positive." For a few minutes the party of men
at the gate conversed in low tones, the listeners being able to catch
but few of the words uttered.
"Please let go of my arm, Mrs. Delancy," said Crosby suddenly.
"Where are you going?"
"I am going to tell Austin what I think of him. You don't expect me to
stand by and allow a pack of jays to hunt me down as if I were Jesse
James or some other desperado, do you?"
"Do you suppose they would credit your story? They will throw you into
jail and there you'd stay until some one came down from Chicago to
identify you."
"But a word from you would clear me," he said in surprise.
"If they pinned me down to the truth, I could only say I had never seen
you until this afternoon."
"Great Scott! You know I am Crosby, don't you?"
"I am positive you are, but what would you, as a lawyer, say to me if
you were cross-examining me on the witness stand? You'd ask some very
embarrassing questions, and I could only say in the end that the
suspected horse thief told me his name and I was goose enough to believe
him. No, my dear friend, I think the safest plan is to take advantage of
the few minutes' start we have and escape the law."
"You mean that I must run from these fellows as if I were really a
thief?"
"Only a suspected thief, you know."
"I'd rather be arrested a dozen times than to desert you at this time."
"Oh, but I'm going with you," she said positively.
"Like a thief, too? I could not permit that, you know. Just stop and
think how awkward for you it would be if we were caught flying
together."
"Birds of a feather. It might have been worse if you had not disposed of
Swallow."
"I must tell you what a genuine brick you are. If they overtake us it
will give me the greatest delight in the world to fight the whole posse
for your sake."
"After that, do you wonder I want to go with you?" she whispered, and
Crosby would have fought a hundred men for her.
The marshal and his men were now following Mr. Austin and the lantern
toward the barn, and the road was quite deserted. Mrs. Delancy and
Crosby started off rapidly in the direction of the town. The low rumble
of distant thunder came to their ears, and ever and anon the western
blackness was faintly illumined by flashes of lightning. Neither of the
fugitives uttered a word until they were far past the gate.
"By George, Mrs. Delancy, we are forgetting one important thing," said
Crosby. They were striding along swiftly arm in arm. "They'll discover
our flight, and the railway station will be just where they'll expect to
find us."
"Oh, confusion! We can't go to the station, can we?"
"We can, but we'll be captured with humiliating ease."
"I know what we can do. Scott Higgins is the tenant on my farm, and he
lives half a mile farther from town than Austin. We can turn back to his
place, but we will have to cut across one of Mr. Austin's fields."
"Charming. We can have the satisfaction of trampling on some of Mr.
Austin's early wheat crop. Right about, face! But, incidentally, what
are we to do after we get to Mr. Higgins's?" They were now scurrying
back over the ground they had just traversed.
"Oh, dear me, why should we think about troubles until we come to them?"
"I wasn't thinking about troubles. I'm thinking about something to eat."
"You are intensely unromantic. But Mrs. Higgins is awfully good. She
will give us eggs and cakes and milk and coffee and--everything. Won't
it be jolly?"
Five minutes later they were plunging through a field of partly grown
wheat, in what she averred to be the direction of the Higgins home. It
was not good walking, but they were young and strong and very much
interested in one another and the adventure.
"Hello, what's this? A river?" he cried, as the swish of running waters
came to his ears.
"Oh; isn't it dreadful? I forgot this creek was here, and there is no
bridge nearer than a mile. What shall we do? See there is a light in
Higgins's house over there. Isn't it disgusting? I could sit down and
cry," she wailed. In the distance a dog was heard barking fiercely, but
they did not recognize the voice of Swallow. A new trouble confronted
them.
[Illustration: "HE WAS SPLASHING THROUGH THE SHALLOW BROOK"]
"Don't do that," he said resignedly. "Remember how Eliza crossed the ice
with the bloodhounds in full trail. Do you know how deep and wide the
creek is?"
"It's a tiny bit of a thing, but it's wet," she said ruefully.
"I'll carry you over." And a moment later he was splashing through the
shallow brook, holding the lithe, warm figure of his client high above
the water. As he set her down upon the opposite bank she gave a pretty
sigh of satisfaction, and naively told him that he was very strong for a
man in the last stages of starvation.
Two or three noisy dogs gave them the first welcome, and Crosby sagely
looked aloft for refuge. His companion quieted the dogs, however, and
the advance on the squat farmhouse was made without resistance. The
visitors were not long in acquainting the good-natured and astonished
young farmer with the situation. Mrs. Higgins was called from her bed
and in a jiffy was bustling about the kitchen, from which soon floated
odors so tantalizing that the refugees could scarcely suppress the
desire to rush forth and storm the good cook in her castle.
"It's mighty lucky you got here when you did, Mrs. Delancy," said
Higgins, peering from the window. "Looks 's if it might rain before
long. We ain't got much of a place here, but, if you'll put up with it,
I guess we can take keer of you over night."
"Oh, but we couldn't think of it," she protested. "After we have had
something to eat we must hurry off to the station."
"What station?" asked Crosby sententiously.
"I don't know, but it wouldn't be a bit nice to spoil the adventure by
stopping now."
"But we can't walk all over the State of Illinois," he cried.
"For shame! You are ready to give up the instant something to eat comes
in sight. Mr. Higgins may be able to suggest something. What is the
nearest----"
"I have it," interrupted Crosby. "The Wabash road runs through this
neighborhood, doesn't it? Well, where is its nearest station?"
"Lonesomeville--about four miles south," said Higgins.
"Do the night trains stop there?"
"I guess you can flag 'em."
"There's an east-bound train from St. Louis about midnight, I'm quite
sure."
While the fugitives were enjoying Mrs. Higgins's hastily but adorably
prepared meal, the details of the second stage of the flight were
perfected. Mr. Higgins gladly consented to hitch up his high-boarded
farm wagon and drive them to the station on the Wabash line, and half an
hour later Higgins's wagon clattered away in the night. To all
appearances he was the only passenger. But seated on a soft pile of
grain sacks in the rear of the wagon, completely hidden from view by the
tall "side-beds," were the refugees. Mrs. Delancy insisted upon this
mode of travel as a precaution against the prying eyes of persistent
marshal's men. Hidden in the wagon-bed they might reasonably escape
detection, she argued, and Crosby humored her for more reasons than one.
Higgins threw a huge grain tarpaulin over the wagon-bed, and they were
sure to be dry in case the rainstorm came as expected. It was so dark
that neither could see the face of the other. He had a longing desire to
take her hand into his, but there was something in the atmosphere that
warned him against such a delightful but unnecessary proceeding.
Naturally, they were sitting quite close to each other; even the severe
jolting of the springless wagon could not disturb the feeling of happy
contentment.
[Illustration: THEY ENJOY MRS HIGGIN'S GOOD SUPPER]
"I hope it won't storm," she said nervously, as a little shudder ran
through her body. The wind was now blowing quite fiercely and those
long-distant rolls of thunder were taking on the sinister sound of
near-by crashes. "I don't mind thunder when I'm in the house."
"And under the bed, I suppose," he laughed.
"Well, you know, lightning COULD strike this wagon," she persisted. "Oh,
goodness, that was awfully close!" she cried, as a particularly loud
crash came to their ears.
The wagon came to an abrupt stop, and Crosby was about to crawl forth to
demand the reason when the sound of a man's voice came through the
rushing wind.
"What is it?" whispered Mrs. Delancy, clutching his arm.
"Sh!" he replied. "We're held up by highwaymen, I think!"
"Oh, how lovely!" she whispered rapturously.
"How far are you goin'?" came the strange voice from the night.
"Oh, 's far ag'in as half," responded Higgins warily.
"That you, Scott?" demanded the other.
"Yep."
"Say, Scott, gimme a ride, will you? Goin' as far as Lonesomeville?"
"What you doin' out this time o' night?" demanded Higgins.
"Lookin' for a feller that tried to steal Mr. Austin's horses. We
thought we had him cornered up to the place, but he got away somehow.
But we'll get him. Davis has got fifty men scouring the country, I bet.
I been sent on to Lonesomeville to head him off if he tries to take a
train. He's a purty desperate character, they say, too, Scott. Say,
gimme a lift as far as you're agoin', won't you?"
"I--I--well, I reckon so," floundered the helpless Higgins.
"Really, this is getting a bit serious," whispered Crosby to his
breathless companion.
The deputy was now on the seat with Higgins, and the latter, bewildered
and dismayed beyond expression, was urging his horses into their fastest
trot.
"How far is it to Lonesomeville?" asked the deputy.
"'Bout two mile."
"It'll rain before we get there," said the other significantly.
"I'm not afeared of rain," said Higgins.
"What are you goin' over there this time o' night for?" asked the other.
"You ain't got much of a load."
"I'm--I'm takin' some meat over to Mr. Talbert."
"Hams?"
"No; jest bacon," answered Scott, and his two hearers in the wagon-bed
laughed silently.
"Not many people out a night like this," volunteered the deputy.
"Nope."
"That a tarpaulin you got in the back of the bed? Jest saw it by the
lightnin'."
"Got the bacon kivered to keep it from gittin' wet 'n case it rains,"
hastily interposed Scott. He was discussing within himself the
advisability of knocking the deputy from the seat and whipping the team
into a gallop, leaving him behind.
"You don't mind my crawlin' under the tarpaulin if it rains, do you,
Scott?"
"There ain't no--no room under it, Harry, an' I won't allow that bacon
to git wet under no consideration."
A generous though nerve-racking crash of thunder changed the current of
conversation. It drifted from the weather immediately, however, to a
one-sided discussion of the escaped horse thief.
"I guess he's a purty slick one," they heard the deputy say. "Austin
said he had him dead to rights in his barn! That big bulldog of his had
him treed on a beam, but when we got there, just after dark, the darned
cuss was gone, an' the dog was trapped up in a box-stall. By thunder, it
showed how desperate the feller is. He evidently come down from that
beam an' jest naturally picked that turrible bulldog up by the neck an'
throwed him over into the stall."
"Have you got a revolver?" asked Higgins loudly.
"Sure! You don't s'pose I'd go up against that kind of a man without a
gun, do you?"
"Oh, goodness!" some one whispered in Crosby's ear.
"But he ain't armed," argued Higgins. "If he'd had a gun don't you
s'pose he'd shot that dog an' got away long before he did?"
"That shows how much you know about these crooks, Higgins," said the
other loftily. "He had a mighty good reason for not shooting the dog."
"What was the reason?"
"I don't know jest what it was, but any darned fool ought to see that he
had a reason. Else why didn't he shoot? Course he had a reason. But the
funny part of the whole thing is what has become of the woman."
"What woman?"
"That widder," responded the other, and Crosby felt her arm harden. "I
never thought much o' that woman. You'd think she owned the whole town
of Dexter to see her paradin' around the streets, showin' off her city
clothes, an' all such stuff. They do say she led George Delancy a devil
of a life, an' it's no wonder he died."
"The wretch!" came from the rear of the wagon.
"Well, she's up and skipped out with the horse thief. Austin says she
tried to protect him, and I guess they had a regular family row over the
affair. She's gone an' the man's gone, an' it looks darned suspicious.
He was a good-lookin' feller, Austin says, an' she's dead crazy to git
another man, I've heard. Dang me, it's jest as I said to Davis: I
wouldn't put it above her to take up with this good-lookin' thief an'
skip off with him. Her husband's been dead more'n two year, an' she's
too darned purty to stay in strict mournin' longer'n she has to---"
But just then something strong, firm, and resistless grasped his neck
from behind, and, even as he opened his mouth to gasp out his surprise
and alarm, a vise-like grip shut down on his thigh, and then, he was
jerked backward, lifted upward, tossed outward, falling downward. The
wagon clattered off in the night, and a tall man and a woman looked over
the side of the wagon-bed and waited for the next flash of lightning to
show them where the official gossiper had fallen. The long, blinding,
flash came, and Crosby saw the man as he picked himself from the ditch
at the roadside.
"Whip up, Higgins, and we'll leave him so far behind he'll never catch
us," cried Crosby eagerly. The first drops of rain began to fall and
Mrs. Delancy hurriedly crawled beneath the tarpaulin, urging him to
follow at once. Another flash of lightning revealed the deputy, far back
in the road waving his hands frantically.
"I'm glad his neck isn't broken. Hurry on, Mr. Higgins; it is now more
urgent than ever that you save your bacon."
'"Tain't very comfortable ridin' for Mrs. Delancy," apologized Higgins,
his horses in a lope.
"If the marshal asks you why you didn't stop and help his deputy, just
tell him that the desperado held a pistol at your head and commanded you
to drive like the devil. Holy mackerel, here comes the deluge!"
An instant later he was under the tarpaulin, crouching beside his fellow
fugitive. Conversation was impossible, so great was the noise of the
rain-storm and the rattle of the wagon over the hard pike. He did his
best to protect her from the jars and bumps incident to the leaping and
jolting of the wagon, and both were filled with rejoicing when Higgins
shouted "Whoa!" to the horses and brought the wild ride to an end.
"Where are we?" cried Crosby, sticking his head from beneath the
tarpaulin.
"We're in the dump-shed of the grain elevator, just across the track
from the depot."
"And the ride is over?"
"Yep. Did you get bumped much?"
"It was worse, a thousand times, than sitting on the beam," bemoaned a
sweet, tired voice, and a moment later the two refugees stood erect in
the wagon, neither quite sure that legs so tired and stiff could serve
as support.
"It was awful; wasn't it?" Crosby said, stretching himself painfully.
"Are you not drenched to the skin, Mr. Higgins?" cried Mrs. Delancy
anxiously. "How selfish of us not to have thought of you before!"
"Oh, that's all right. This gum coat kept me purty dry."
He and Crosby assisted her from the wagon, and, while the former gave
his attention to the wet and shivering horses, the latter took her arm
and walked up and down the dark shed with her.
"I think you are regretting the impulse that urged you into this folly,"
he was saying.
"If you persist in accusing me of faintheartedness, Mr. Crosby, I'll
never speak to you again," she said. "I cast my lot with a desperado, as
the deputy insinuated, and I am sure you have not heard me bewail my
fate. Isn't it worth something to have one day and night of real
adventure? My gown must be a sight, and I know my hair is just
dreadful, but my heart is gayer and brighter to-night than it has been
in years."
"And you don't regret anything that has happened?" he asked, pressing
her arm ever so slightly.
"My only regret is that you heard what the deputy said about me. You
don't believe I am like that, do you?" There was sweet womanly concern
in her voice.
"I wish it were light enough to see your face," he answered, his lips
close to her ear. "I know you are blushing, and you must be more
beautiful--Oh, no, of course I don't think you are at all as he painted
you," he concluded, suddenly checking himself and answering the
plaintive question he had almost ignored.
"Thank you, kind sir," she said lightly, but he failed not to observe
the tinge of confusion in the laugh that followed.
"If you'll watch the team, Mr. Crosby," the voice of Higgins broke in at
this timely juncture, "I'll run acrost to the depot an' ast about the
train."
"Much obliged, old man; much obliged," returned Crosby affably. "Are you
afraid to be alone in the dark?" he asked, as Higgins rushed out into
the rain. The storm had abated by this time and there was but the
faintest suggestion of distant thunder and lightning, the after-fall of
rain being little more than a drizzle.
"Awfully," she confessed, "but it's safer here than on the beam," she
added, and his heart grew very tender as he detected the fatigue in her
voice. "Anyhow, we have the papers safely signed."
"Mrs. Delancy, I--I swear that you shall never regret this day and
night," he said, stopping in his walk and placing his hands on her
shoulders. She caught her breath quickly. "Do you know what I mean?"
"I--I think--I'm not quite sure," she stammered.
"You will know some day," he said huskily.
When Mr. Higgins appeared at the end of the shed, carrying a lighted
lantern, he saw a tall young man and a tall young woman standing side by
side, awaiting his approach with the unconcern of persons who have no
interest in common.
"Ah, a lantern," cried Crosby. "Now we can see what we look like
and--and who we are."
Higgins informed them that an east-bound passenger train went through in
twenty minutes, stopping on the side track to allow west-bound No. 7 to
pass. This train also took water near the bridge which crossed the river
just west of the depot. The west-bound train was on time, the other
about five minutes late. He brought the welcome news that the rain was
over and that a few stars were peeping through the western sky. There
was unwelcome news, however, in the statement that the mud was ankle
deep from the elevator to the station platform and that the washing out
of a street culvert would prevent him from using the wagon.
"I don't mind the mud," said Mrs. Delancy, very bravely indeed.
"My dear Mrs. Delancy, I can and will carry you a mile or more rather
than have one atom of Lonesomeville mud bespatter those charming boots
of yours," said Crosby cheerfully, and her protestations were useless
against the argument of both men.
The distance was not great from the sheds to the station and was soon
covered. Crosby was muddy to his knees, but his fair passenger was as
dry as toast when he lowered her to the platform.
"You are every bit as strong as the hero in the modern novel," she said
gaily. "After this, I'll believe every word the author says about his
stalwart, indomitable hero."
To say that Higgins was glad to be homeward bound would be putting it
too mildly. The sigh of relief that came from him as he drove out of
town a few minutes later was so audible that he heard it himself and
smiled contentedly. If he expected to meet the unlamented Harry Brown on
the home trip, he was to be agreeably disappointed. Mr. Brown was not on
the roadway. He was, instead, on the depot platform at Lonesomeville,
and when the westbound express train whistled for the station he was
standing grimly in front of two dumbfounded young people who sat
sleepily and unwarily on a baggage truck.
The feeble-eyed lantern sat on the platform near Crosby's swinging feet,
and the picture that it looked upon was one suggestive of the cheap,
sensational, and bloodcurdling border drama. A mud-covered man stood
before the trapped fugitives, a huge revolver in his hand, the muzzle of
which, even though it wobbled painfully, was uncomfortably close to Mr.
Crosby's nose.
"Throw up your hands!" said Brown, his hoarse voice shaking perceptibly.
Crosby's hands went up instantly, for he was a man and a diplomat.
"Point it the other way!" cried the lady, with true feminine tact. "How
dare you!--Oh, will it go off? Please, please put it away! We won't try
to escape!"
"I'm takin' no chances on this feller," said Brown grimly. "It won't go
off, ma'am, unless he makes a move to git away."
"What do you want?" demanded Crosby indignantly. "My money? Take it, if
you like, but don't be long about it."
"I'm no robber, darn you."
"Well, what in thunder do you mean then by holding me up at the point of
a revolver?"
"I'm an officer of the law an' I arrest you. That's what I'm here for,"
said Brown.
"Arrest me?" exclaimed Crosby in great amazement. "What have I done?"
"No back talk now, young feller. You're the man we're after, an' it
won't do you any good to chew the rag about it."
"If you don't turn that horrid pistol away, I'll faint," cried
femininity in collapse. Crosby's arm went about her waist and she hid
her terror-stricken eyes on his shoulder.
"Keep that hand up!" cried Brown threateningly.
"Don't be mean about it, old man. Can't you see that my arm is not at
all dangerous?"
"I've got to search you."
"Search me? Well, I guess not. Where is your authority?"
"I'm a deputy marshal from Dexter."
"Have you been sworn in, sir?"
"Aw, that's all right now. No more rag chewin' out of you. That'll do
YOU! Keep your hands up!"
"What am I charged with?"
"Attempted horse stealin', an' you know it."
"Have you a warrant? What is my name?"
"That'll do you now; that'll do you."
"See here, my fine friend, you've made a sad mistake. I'm not the man
you want. I'm ready to go to jail, if you insist, but it cost you every
dollar you have in the world. I'll make you pay dearly for calling an
honest man a thief, sir." Crosby's indignation was beautifully assumed
and it took effect.
"Mr. Austin is the man who ordered your arrest," he explained. "I know
Mrs. Delancy here all right, an' she left Austin's with you."
"What are you talking about, man? She is my cousin and drove over here
this evening to see me between trains. I think you'd better lower your
gun, my friend. This will go mighty hard with you."
"But---"
"He has you confused with that horse thief who said his name was Crosby,
Tom," said she, pinching his arm delightedly. "He was the worst-looking
brute I ever saw. I thought Mr. Austin had him so secure with the
bulldog as guardian. Did he escape?"
"Yes, an' you went with him," exclaimed Brown, making a final stand.
"An' I know all about how you come over here in Scott Higgins's wagon
too."
"The man is crazy!" exclaimed Mrs. Delancy.
"He may have escaped from the asylum up north of here," whispered
Crosby, loud enough for the deputy to hear.
"Here comes the train," cried she. "Now we can ask the train men to
disarm him and send him back to the asylum. Isn't it awful that such
dangerous people can be at large?"
Brown lowered his pistol as the engine thundered past. The pilot was
almost in the long bridge at the end of the depot when the train stopped
to wait for the eastbound express to pass. The instant that Brown's
revolver arm was lowered and his head turned with uncertainty to look at
the train, Crosby's hand went to his coat pocket, and when the deputy
turned toward him again he found himself looking into the shiny,
glittering barrel of a pistol.
"Throw that gun away, my friend," said Crosby in a low tone, "or I'll
blow your brains out."
"Great Scott!" gasped Brown.
"Throw it away!"
"Don't kill him," pleaded Mrs. Delancy. Brown's knees were shaking like
leaves and his teeth chattered. His revolver sailed through the air and
clattered on the brick pavement beyond the end of the platform. "Don't
shoot," he pleaded, ready to drop to his knees.