CHAPTER XII

THE ENCOUNTER

Jet was now traveling over a country with which he was not familiar,

and to continue on would be to take great chances of losing his way, at

least during the hours of darkness.

It was necessary, therefore, or at least he thought so, to get into

that section of the woods over which he had previously journeyed.

To do this he was forced to make a half circle around the building, and

as he ran, keeping at about the same distance from the house as he and

Harvey had gained, the sounds of the conflict could be distinctly heard.

Judging from the noise, one would say at least half a dozen men were

engaged, and Jet said to himself:

"The men from Albany are taking a hand in the row, probably firing from

the windows. If they could wipe the whole gang out there wouldn't be

any need for me to try to strike a telegraph office."

He could not afford to await the result of the contest, however, for if

his friends were worsted just so much valuable time would be lost, and

he pressed on at full speed until, when he was near the spot where he

began his first journey, there was a rustling of the foliage in front

of him as a voice cried:

"Hold up or I'll fire!"

That this threat was made by one of the gang from whom he was trying to

escape there could be no question, and Jet darted aside quickly as he

cocked his revolver.

This had hardly been done when he saw a long tongue of flame leap out

of the bushes at the right, not more than ten feet away, and a bullet

whistled so near his ear that he could hear it shrieking like a minnie

ball.

If he could wound one of these fellows matters would be just so much

better for his friends, and jumping behind the trunk of a tree he fired

every chamber of his revolver as rapidly as possible.

Not until the weapon was emptied did he start on his course again,

shoving cartridges in the chambers as he ran, and followed by a volley

of shots.

It was evident he had not done any damage, and once more he wheeled and

fired.

There was no reply to this last fusillade, and he continued the flight,

straining every muscle to outdistance the enemy in case an attempt

should be made to follow him.

At the expiration of ten minutes he was forced to halt in order to

regain his breath, and while standing panting and blowing behind a tree

he listened for some token of the enemy.

Not a sound, save those made by himself, broke the silence of the

forest, and there was every reason to believe he had for the second

time given the fellows the slip.

But what about Harvey?

In fancy he saw him lying dead or dying within the shelter of the

bushes, while the gang were making a desperate attack upon the house,

and this thought nerved him to continue the flight before he had fairly

recovered his wind.

The journey was a succession of brief halts and mad races, for every

moment might be precious now, and he took no heed of fatigue, save when

exhausted nature literally forced him so to do.

In less than half the time it had cost him to traverse the same

distance when no one but himself was in danger, he accomplished the

task, and stood on the platform of the station at which Harvey's party

stopped the night previous.

The building was closed.

While he was rattling at the door in the vain hope that there might be

a watchman inside, a resident of the town passed.

"What's going on?" he asked in an unsteady voice which told quite

plainly why he was away from home at such an hour.

"I want to send a very important telegram."

"Well send--hic--her if you wanter."

"Where is the operator?"

"At home, I reckon, if he ain't, that's where he oughter be this time

in the morning."

"Do you know when he will be here?"

"'Bout midnight, if he counts on lookin' out for the express."

"Can you tell me what time it is now?"

It was rather a difficult matter for the tipsy party to get at his

watch; but he was in an obliging mood, and after some trouble succeeded

in clutching the timepiece.

"Come here an' see for yourself," he said, after trying in vain to make

out the position of the hands. "I reckon I must have bought four or

five watches by the looks of these, though I'm blest if I remember

anything about it."

"You've only got one there," Jet said, as he gazed over the stranger's

shoulder. "It lacks only ten minutes of being twelve o'clock; I shan't

have long to wait."

"I'd stay with you if I didn't have to call upon a sick friend," the

man replied after some difficulty, and then he staggered on, while Jet

paced to and fro as if only by exercise could he control his impatience.

In less than five minutes he was joined by two men, or at least they

came on the platform; but seemingly took care to prevent him from

seeing their faces.

He could hear them talking in low, earnest tones; but was so engrossed

by his own thoughts that he made no attempt to distinguish the words.

Finally the station agent, who was also the telegraph operator,

arrived, and as he unlocked the door Jet asked eagerly, and

sufficiently loud for the strangers to hear:

"Can I send a message to Albany?"

"Not now. Come to-morrow morning after eight o'clock."

"But this is very important and must go as soon as possible."

"I'll attend to you in the morning."

"It will be too late then," Jet cried, excitedly. "The chief of police

must have the news at once!"

The operator looked at Jet scrutinizingly, and the two men stepped a

few paces nearer.

"What's the matter?" the official asked.

"It is necessary detectives be sent here at once."

"Murder, or something of that kind, eh?"

"All I know is that I was sent by a man who said the telegram must go

at the earliest possible moment."

"Very well, come in and write it. I'll see if the Albany office will

answer my call."

Jet walked into the waiting-room so excited that he failed to notice

the strangers, who crowded behind him; but stood where their faces

would be in the shadow.

After a moment's reflection he wrote the following:

"TO THE CHIEF OF POLICE,

"Albany, N.Y.

"Send more men at once; they have us foul. My messenger will wait at

the station until assistance arrives.

HARVEY."

It was a simple matter for the strangers to read this by looking over

Jet's shoulder, and as soon as they had done so they slipped quietly

out of the building where the following conversation might have been

heard:

"That's the boy Joe and Bob brought up from New York."

"I thought so, and now he is working for Harvey."

"Who has gone to the house in the woods to pull the boys, and has got

the worst of it."

"I don't reckon we could prevent the operator from sending that

message?"

"Not without putting ourselves in the hole."

"We can make sure though that the boy isn't here to show them the place

when the officers arrive."

"Which forces us to stay here another day, and according to the looks

of things I don't think it safe. What made the fools come after

agreeing to lay over in the city till we showed up?"

"That's what I can't say. It's enough to know we've got to bear a

hand, for if one of the crowd is caught all hands stand a good chance

of being sent up."

"Shall we nab the boy as soon as the train passes?"

"No; I've got a better plan than that. We'll wait till the western

express arrives, and make him think we're the officers who have come in

reply to his telegram."

"Then we must keep out of sight. Let's take a turn around the town

where he won't be likely to see us."

The men walked quietly away, and in the depot Jet was congratulating

himself upon having been able to give the alarm so quickly.

The operator had been very eager to learn why officers should be

summoned from the city; but Jet professed entire ignorance of the

matter, repeating again and again that he had only brought the message

from a stranger a short distance up the road, and the questioner

finally ceased trying to extract information.

There was no difficulty about getting a telegram through, and in a few

moments Jet rejoiced at hearing the man say:

"It's done, and now you'll only have to wait until the parties arrive."

"How long before they can come?'

"There's a morning express which leaves Albany in an hour; but it

doesn't stop here, so they'll have to wait for the five o'clock train."

Jet was not troubled as to where he should spend the time.

He was so tired that he could sleep anywhere, and walked across the

track to the waiting shed, where he laid down on one of the benches,

glad of an opportunity to rest his weary limbs.

While paying for the telegram he noticed with surprise that Harvey had

intrusted him with twenty dollars, and he said to himself as his eyes

were closing in sleep:

"I wonder why he gave me so much? It can't be possible he thought the

message would cost all that."

Then he was unconscious of everything around him.

The midnight express arrived, stopped, and with a loud snort from the

engine went on again; but the noise barely sufficed to make Jet aware

that something unusual had happened.

During the next hour he slept peacefully, and then the two strangers

came up the track talking in low tones.

By the glare of the station lamp they saw the sleeping boy.

"What is the use of waiting for the train, when it may be possible the

officers will come?"

"The morning express doesn't stop here."

"What of that? The conductor would let the officers off if the chief

should ask him as an especial favor."

"Well, how can we hurry matters?"

"He is asleep, and all we have to do is to swear the train has just

passed. He probably hasn't got a watch, and can't tell whether one

hour or four has passed since he closed his eyes."

"But if he should be suspicious, he might make trouble."

"Say, you're getting to be a regular coward. We've got to take some

chances if we want to prevent Joe and Bob from being pulled, and it

will be rough if you and I can't handle a boy like that."

"Do as you please; of course I'm bound to stand at your back all the

time."

The first speaker looked around once to make certain no one was near,

and then stepping quickly into the shed shook Jet roughly.

Messenger No. 48 · 第 12 / 32 章