THE APPOINTMENT WITH SUPREME DANGER
"You think you can manage it?" asked Deputy Sheriff Coates anxiously,
after a long talk by the side of the sick bed.
"I am sure we can," nodded Lieutenant Richard Prescott cheerily.
"I hate to ask such favor of you," went on Coates in a tone of real
regret. "But Jack Blick simply has to be arrested, and there doesn't
seem any other way."
"Don't worry any more about it, Mr. Coates," urged the young lieutenant.
It seemed odd to see one as young as Prescott using this soothing tone
to the weather-tanned, middle-aged peace officer who, for a score of
years, had been known as a terror to evil-doers. But Coates was flat on
his back now, and there was a man to be captured who was known as one
of the most dangerous men in the country.
During the conversation Hal and Noll had remained seated at some
distance from the bed. The soldier boys had listened, but had said
nothing. Nor had Dent, who turned out to be the local postmaster, said
much, either.
"Blick is just waiting for a letter that holds money to take him
somewhere else," Coates continued, plucking at the bed clothes. "If he
gets that letter in the morning, he'll be out of sight and away before
I can get help here. As I've told you, the stage comes here only twice
a week, and it is out of the question to get real help through in case
Blick makes his last trip to the post office to-morrow morning. If he
gets a letter then, and finds the expected funds in it, it's my belief
that he'll be on his way among the hills five minutes afterwards. That
is, of course, Lieutenant, if you're not there to stop him."
"If he appears and is recognized, we'll stop him," smiled Lieutenant
Prescott with the confidence of a trained man who cannot admit defeat.
"But be mighty sure you get the drop on Jack Blick, Lieutenant. If you
soldiers make the slightest blunder after Blick knows you're there for
him, he'll drill all three of you. If you once let Blick get a gun out
of his pocket then one or two of you will die--sure. The fellow is as
quick as lightning, and he always shoots to kill at the first shot!"
"I have heard of that kind of man before," replied Mr. Prescott
composedly.
"Don't you doubt that they exist, either, Lieutenant," warned the
deputy sheriff earnestly. "Don't forget, either, that Jack Blick is
the most dangerous man of that type."
"What a pity you don't know where Blick is staying," sighed Lieutenant
Prescott regretfully. "It would be much more to my liking to turn him
out of bed in the middle of the night."
"None of us have been able to find the least trace of his stopping
place," put in Postmaster Dent. "Not that we haven't tried. Wherever
Blick's hiding place is, it's a secure one."
The plans for the attempt at capture were then made and fully discussed
until every one present understood fully.
Jack Blick, "wanted" for two killings and half a dozen train and
stage holds-ups, was here in Mason City in disguise. He had always
been smooth faced, but now he wore a heavy beard. He had made other
alterations in his appearance. At the post office he inquired for
letters for Arthur Dade. As a part of his disguise Blick pretended to
be a consumptive, and on even rather warm days, he appeared in a light
top-coat. This was the information that Coates gave Lieutenant Prescott.
"That's so he can carry revolvers in either side pocket; don't forget
that," urged the deputy sheriff. "Watch Blick's hands when he takes 'em
out of his pockets."
Blick's identity had been learned from the police of San Francisco. In
that latter city Blick's sister lived. It was believed that she might
correspond with her brother, and so the police of San Francisco had
arranged with the local post office people for a chance to inspect the
address of every letter that Juliette Blick mailed. These addresses had
been run down, and the one at Mason City had proved to be the correct
one for her brother.
"I am afraid you have tired yourself out, Mr. Coates," suggested
Prescott, rising. "As we now know all that can help us, I propose to
leave after sending your nurse in to you."
"My nurse?" cried the deputy, almost resentfully. "Me, under a nurse's
care, when there's a job at hand like catching Jack Blick!"
"We'll do our very best, sir, to take your place," promised Lieutenant
Prescott. Then a new thought coming to him, he added:
"I think, Mr. Coates, perhaps we had better wait until Mr. Dent goes
down to the Mason House to see whether there is an answer to the
telegram I sent Colonel North. I may have to see you again, just for a
moment."
Once outside the sick room, the three soldiers stepped into the little
parlor of the house.
"As postmaster, Mr. Dent, you are well enough known to have no
difficulty in getting the hotel people to hand you any message that
may have come for me."
Then Mr. Dent left them.
"Seat yourselves, men," urged Lieutenant Prescott, himself dropping
into a chair. "Now, I think that, with three of us, we're going to
have a rather easy time to-morrow if Blick really shows up at the post
office. Of course, now that we've undertaken this thing, we simply
can't allow ourselves to make any flukes."
"As I understand it, sir," smiled Hal Overton, "any mistakes that any
of us make will form the basis of the undertaker's bill to our families
at home."
"That's the best possible way of stating the case," laughed the young
lieutenant lightly. "Just for the sake of being able to remain in the
good old service we've got to avoid making any bad breaks while Blick
is at hand."
Thirty minutes went by ere the postmaster of Mason City returned.
"Had to wait. Message just came. I brought it at once," explained Dent,
whose breathing showed that he had hurried.
Lieutenant Prescott took the little yellow envelope, breaking it open.
"Pardon me for reading it," he said.
Then a smile broke over his features.
"It's O. K.," he announced, dropping the paper to his lap. Then he
picked it up again, saying:
"Listen!"
This was the dispatch that he read, addressed to himself and signed by
Colonel North:
"Permission granted to yourself and Privates Overton and Terry to make
arrest if possible, but only after all three have been legally sworn in
as special deputy sheriffs of the county. Obey and submit to the civil
authorities in every way."
"Hurrah!" Hal could not restrain himself from saying.
"What a bully old colonel commands 'Ours,'" breathed Noll Terry.
"Ours" is the term given his regiment by every soldier, whether officer
or enlisted man.
"I'm glad to see, men, that you're pleased. Now, as I thought might be
possible when leaving Mr. Coates, we shall have to see him again for
just a moment."
"To be sworn in as special deputies?" inquired Postmaster Dent.
"Exactly," nodded Lieutenant Prescott.
They were soon again at the sick man's bedside, the young officer
explaining their errand.
"Hold up your hands, all three of you," directed Deputy Coates.
Then and there he swore them in formally as special deputy sheriffs in
the service of the county.
"Dent, go to the third drawer in that cabinet and take out three
badges, will you?" asked Mr. Coates.
"These badges will be in the best place if we pin them to our flannel
shirts, and then button our blouses over them," suggested Prescott,
setting the example.
"I'll go out ahead of you now," proposed the postmaster. "Arrange to be
in the little alley-way back of the post office at half past six in the
morning."
"Six thirty to the minute," Lieutenant Prescott promised.
Once outside, the lieutenant told the bunkies to return to the hotel
together. Then he left them.
Just on the dot of 6.30 the next morning Lieutenant Prescott and his
two soldier boys were at the meeting place.
Postmaster Dent was ahead of them, and quickly admitted them through
the rear door of the post office building.
"Now, we've just time to hurry into readiness," whispered Dent, rubbing
his hands. "The office opens sharp at seven!"