A ROCK CLEFT FOR ME
Jack Utley’s persistent disregard of all caution worried me much. As
I thought of his chicken-stealing episode and of the fire he insisted
upon having in the old hut, it occurred to me that we might even at the
moment be under the surveillance of some of our enemies. Seeing the
smoke in the distance, they might have suspected that we were the cause
of it, and, circling to our rear, come over the hill and rush down on
us. I determined to keep a close watch on all sides.
I was gazing up the hill, a little to the right of our camp, somewhere
about four o’clock, when I detected the sound of fast-approaching feet.
Instantly my heart was set beating at a furious rate. Scenting danger,
I hurriedly roused the lads, telling them what I had heard, and warning
them to get ready for flight. Even as I finished a horseman came in
view, but from his position I wasn’t certain that he’d seen us. We all
crouched low, and were beginning to feel that all was well, when he
wheeled about and planted his horse on the hillside only a few rods
below us and a little to the left. Immediately he yelled:--
“Come on with the guns, boys. Here they are, like woodchucks in their
holes.”
This shout was responded to by half a dozen farmers on foot, most of
them armed with either a shotgun or a pistol. Down they came upon
us, firing and yelling at the same time. Their deliberation told me
better than words that they had a perfect knowledge of what the game
was they were after. And what was worse, they showed unmistakably that
they would get us, even if they had to fight to the end. My fears,
therefore, that we would be traced had not been groundless, after all.
Jack Utley’s foolhardiness was reaping its penalty, and we all must
suffer.
At the first shout of the horseman below, who seemed not to be armed,
we dashed down the hill, diagonally away from him. He made no move to
intercept us. As a matter of fact, he was in range of his comrades’
guns and did not dare to get too near us, around whom the small shot
and some bullets were flying thick as hail. George Wilson and I kept
together as best we could, but presently I heard him groan, and a side
glance showed me that his left arm was hanging limp at his side. One of
my fingers was stinging from the glance of a shot, which, however, left
no wound.
“Follow me, George,” I shouted, as I ran toward a thick wall of
undergrowth, and he came on. I reached the bushes, followed, as I
supposed, by Wilson, and, making as wide a path as I could for him,
pushed on, never looking behind, though I lost my hat and had my face
sadly scratched with the sharp twigs. Presently I was conscious that
more than Wilson were after me, and, not knowing who they might be, I
redoubled my speed, and, avoiding the fate of the hapless wife of Lot
as told in Holy Writ, did not look behind, but bounded over a wide
brook and dashed across a meadow, leaving those following some distance
to the rear in a few minutes. Then I paused to catch my wind, and saw,
to my surprise, Jack Utley and Big Bill coming as fast as they could
in my direction, but George Wilson was nowhere to be seen. I was much
disappointed over this, and felt that I ought to have paid more heed to
him, wounded as he was, though I remembered what the lads had said once
about the sort of chivalry I had in mind: that the misfortune of one
man was not sufficient reason for his mate or mates to risk capture to
go to his relief; for, as they put it, one man in jail and the others
out with money could do more to aid him than a thousand men in jail
with him.
When my associates came up we resumed our flight, wondering the while
what had become of the other half of the party, and how it was that
none of our pursuers was in sight. We decided that they had gone after
the lads who had fled in another direction, and in the mix-up we had
got away. Our best means of escape seemed to be up a road which led
past a farm-house. As we ran, a woman, near whom were several children,
all gazing at us, called out that three of the robbers had turned into
the left fork of the road a few rods ahead of us. We realized right
away that the woman believed us to be some of the pursuers, instead of
the pursued, and it was thought best for our safety to let her retain
that opinion.
As we turned into the right fork, which seemed to be only a narrow path
through thick woods, the woman shouted to us, “They went the other
way.” Utley called back that two of the pursuing party had already gone
that road, and that it would be better if we took the right fork. Thus
assuring the good woman, we broke into a smart pace and soon left her
behind a turn in the road. Our route was little travelled, winding here
and there, but averaging to the right, occasionally through a sparse
wood and sometimes across a rocky chasm, and finally into a ravine, at
the end of which, a considerable distance over a valley, could be seen
a hill of no mean height. After hastening on for ten minutes, it became
evident to me that my companions were beginning to feel that dangerous
sort of security which I so dreaded.
“Let’s foot it as fast as we can for that hill ahead,” I said, pointing
it out, “and having climbed to the other side, we can double back on
our pursuers, and come pretty near the point from which we were driven.”
To my satisfaction there was no balking at this, and, starting with
renewed vigor and speed, we had been going perhaps five minutes when I
saw, with much concern, that Big Bill was handicapping us not a little.
His upward of two hundred pounds of flesh and bone were retarding him
mightily.
“Come, come, Bill!” I called back to him; “for goodness’ sake, run.
We’ll never get clear of this gang.”
“I can’t, I’m tuckered,” he gasped; “you fellers had better go on, if
you’re in a hurry.”
At that moment I spied what appeared to be a deserted coal mine, only
a little distance from the road. Stopping, I pointed it out to my
associates and suggested that it was our only chance, since Bill was
unable to keep up the pace.
“We’ll get in that, wade or swim through the water, as it may be,” I
explained, “and perhaps we can hide from the enemy till night comes;
then we can go on again.”
Utley objected to this, in the meantime eying the pool of water, which
looked more like liquid mud than anything else, with great concern. I
vow it seemed to me that he was fearful of soiling his soft hands or
ruffling his collar; and such a time it was, indeed, to have so great
an admiration for himself!
“Very well,” I replied to his objections, “I’m going in that hole,
and you and Bill can trot as you will.” And leave them I did without
another word. They continued on up the ravine, while I picked my way to
the opening in the mine. I found it, as I have said, full of water that
had the appearance of clay. The light shone back through the opening
for thirty feet. An ordinary sized man could not stand erect, reckoning
from the surface of the water to the roof. I could see fully fifty feet
in this hole as I grew more accustomed to the interior, and I believed
I saw a rocky shelf, easily accessible above the water. Immediately
beyond it all appeared to be darkness. As I regarded it, there seemed
to be only one way to reach that sweet refuge before me, and that was
by getting through the mudpool.
Hiding my treasure under some leaves where there seemed to be no danger
of it being disturbed, and taking a careful note of the location, I
held my pistol in one hand over my head and stepped in the little mud
lake, so to speak, expecting that I would have to swim to the rock. I
found, much to my relief, in the beginning at least, that the water was
not more than shoulder high, and gave promise of being no deeper as I
advanced. Again and again, with the utmost difficulty, I kept my feet
from fastening into the heavy bottom. Presently I felt myself sinking
into a still more dangerous bed of some yielding substance, from which
it seemed almost an impossibility to withdraw my feet. I was alarmed.
If this continued, I knew what it meant to me--death by drowning at the
very least, and perhaps worse: slow starvation, with death longed for
at the end, unless some one came to hear my cries, and released me from
a horrible imprisonment.
With hope all but gone, I made one more effort, which must have been
the strength of madness, and succeeded in getting a half-dozen feet
farther on, where there seemed to be firmer bottom. A cold perspiration
like that I have heard visits the dying was on my brow and I was
trembling like an aspen. It was well for me that I had reached a
more secure footing. Looking about, I saw the rock for which I had
started, and much nearer than I had believed it to be. How beautiful it
looked, covered as it was with clay wash and amid its damp, unsightly
surroundings. As I rested for a moment my mind was filled with the old
song I had so often, in younger days, heard my father and mother sing;
that hymn familiar in every part of the globe:--
“Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in Thee.”
For the first time in my life I caught the real spirit of what they
must feel who, fully realizing their helplessness in the depths of sin,
suddenly know that in the Saviour, emblemized in the Rock of Ages, they
have found their eternal refuge.
I say I believe that they must feel as I did, when, exhausted,
staggering, and on the verge of falling down in the mudpool, I finally
dragged myself up the incline to the rock, that precious rock, and
fell upon its sustaining bosom. I could not have gone a foot farther,
for the battle with the treacherous mud bottom had shorn me of all the
strength and nerve I possessed. In a moment I would have sunk into the
death trap which seemingly yawned for me.
I lay on the rocky shelf for fully five minutes, perhaps longer, ere I
could find strength to draw my body entirely from the water. Then, with
my clothing hanging like so much lead to my weak frame, and shivering
with the chill of the atmosphere until my teeth were chattering, I
painfully crawled farther back on the precious support, wondering if,
after all my wrong-doing, it had not been cleft for me.
For fully half an hour I had no wish or inclination to stir. It was yet
daylight when I finally got myself together, and then for the first
time I had leisure to notice my bedraggled appearance. I was a sight
to behold, being veneered with a sort of clay wash that rendered me,
I’ll warrant, to one fifty feet away, not unlike my surroundings. I was
a man of clay, but not of the pure quality, for I found my clothing
underneath, after a little vigorous rubbing. So would appear the baser
metal through the wash of fine gold, after similar treatment. The only
anxiety I felt now was the possibility that the enemy would discover
the mine. They might know in the beginning, what I had learned after a
terrible experience, that it was an undeveloped coal mine, and, too,
they might have a better way of investigating it. I could only hope
that they would feel certain no living being would have the temerity to
exploit it.
Presently the murmur of voices, which grew more distinct each moment,
reached me, and, steadying my nerves as well as I could, I watched and
waited for developments. They came quickly, for a crowd of men, armed
with muskets and shotguns, passed along the road in my view, and with
them were my two associates, Big Bill and Jack Utley. It was easy to
note that the latter were prisoners. In the momentary glance I had
at them there was no doubt of their identity, and I heartily wished
they had come along with me, though not long before I had felt truly
gratified for their leave-taking. Many times had Utley’s pig-headedness
gotten us into trouble, from which some of us managed to pull the party
through; but his last perversity had been the undoing of himself and
Big Bill. I had feared all along that he would get us all lodged behind
prison bars.
But it was fast growing dark, and I had no more time for this sort of
meditation; so, crawling along the side of the rock until I reached
the water, I stepped in, and keeping well up against the sloping wall
of the mine entrance, I managed to get out of my hiding-place with a
minimum of difficulty, as compared with my distressing experience in
getting in it. Out in the free air once more, I soon possessed myself
of the treasure under the leaves, and, proceeding cautiously, soon made
my way back to the fork of the road near the farm-house. Here I sat in
a shadow and carefully went over the situation.
I wondered whether or not George Wilson, poor fellow, had escaped,
handicapped as he was, and whether Tall Jim and Eddie Hughes had done
as they declared they would do, before surrendering. I shuddered. If
I had dared, I think I would have prayed that no murder be committed
in this affair. The thought of it made a cold chill thread my spine.
At that moment I resolved that never, should I continue the life I had
entered, would I kill a fellow-man, even though my life be taken as the
penalty. And I have kept my word to the letter.
My thoughts returning to Wilson, I recalled that he had not had an
opportunity to get his treasure satchel from under the log, when the
enemy came upon us. I wondered if the searching party had found it, and
counted the cost to venture back to camp and find out. Having become
accustomed to danger, I determined to recover the treasure, believing
it to be well worth the risk,--not for myself, however, but for Wilson.
I thought it only just to save him his treasure, if I could do so
without getting my neck in too much danger. He would better have it
than many another man who might find it. And there was the chance that
it would never be found and that eventually the elements would destroy
what could be of great benefit to even me.
Accordingly I started, skirting the woods so as to approach our late
camp at the rear, in about the same manner the enemy had taken us by
surprise. I proceeded with great caution, not forgetting that I might
be entrapped. When I had gained a point nearly abreast the log, I
struck my foot against a stone. It was well rounded and weighed fully
thirty pounds. It occurred to me that this stone could be used as a
decoy should any one be scheming to entrap me. Sent rolling down the
hill, if some of the enemy were about, they would be quite likely to
pursue the stone, while I would get the bag and flee in the opposite
direction. I believed the scheme worth trying, and accordingly sent the
stone crashing down the hill. Great heaven! It seemed to me that it was
urged on by some unseen master hand. Down, down it rolled, bounded,
and crashed through dried leaves and twigs, bushes, and against
tree-trunks. With the first noise from the stone there came the sound
of many feet close by, and I sped off with all my might across the
field as though a thousand imps were at my heels. I never ran so in my
life, not when I was a farm lad away up in old New Hampshire. Indeed,
I did not stop until I had placed a mile between me and the ill-fated
woods. That our pursuers had discovered the bag of cash and were in
waiting for some one of our party to return and get it was beyond
question. I would not venture near the place again for all the money
the Cadiz bank vault could hold.
Resting for a few minutes, I listened for any indication that I had
been followed, and finding none, started out on a bold plan to walk
my way back to Steubenville in the very teeth of the enemy. The very
daring of the thing, I believed, would see me safe on my way to New
York. So determined, I struck out, as near as I could tell, on a direct
route to the railroad leading to Wheeling, which we had abandoned at
daybreak.
It was not much like the night before when Utley stole the chicken.
Then there was a part moon, unclouded, while now there was a sort of
haze that made walking rather uncertain. I picked my steps slowly,
pausing now and then to listen for anything that might be construed
into a signal of danger. I gave the railway cut where the rope had been
stretched a wide berth, and, coming back to the track again, continued
at a rapid pace until the first streaks of dawn began to warn me that
I must soon get under cover for the day. In crossing a bridge through
which a turnpike ran under the railroad, I found at the back of one of
the stone abutments what seemed to be an excellent hiding-place for my
treasure. Carefully putting the cash and bonds far down in an opening,
and placing stones over the top, I made as I hoped, a safe depository,
until I could reach New York, and, fixing myself up, return and get the
proceeds of my first bank loot. But again a tremor of remorse came over
me at the thought of the way this treasure had come into my possession.
I drowned it quickly, however, and seeing a brook not far off, drank
freely to quench a terrible thirst, filled my water flask, and began to
search for a hiding-place.
The first barn I visited had no hay in which I could stow myself, nor
had the second, though there I discovered a couple of hen’s eggs,
much to my delight, yet wishing that I had come across a dozen.
Carefully I put them away, and going to the next barn, was doomed to
disappointment, finding no haymow in which I dared to hide. But it was
growing so light that I must not go on farther, courting discovery,
so I crawled under the barn through a hole in the flooring, and,
squeezing myself along, I presently got to within ten feet of one of
the under-pinning walls, where there was scarcely room enough for me
to move my body. Setting to work with my bare hands, I dug, with much
difficulty, a hole in the ground that would permit me to sit upright
with some sort of comfort. The damp, sour earth I had removed was
formed into a sort of breastworks, facing the direction from which I
had come, while toward the wall the space between the flooring was so
narrow that I feared no detection from that source. Thus intrenched, I
realized for the first time that my fingers were torn and bleeding, not
being accustomed to playing the part of a spade. But I bore the pain
without a murmur, believing that, if I escaped capture, I must work out
my salvation with much privation and no end of hardship.
That I was in for a hard day I had no doubt. In a welcome haymow I
could have buried myself and caught a few minutes of needed sleep, but
here I did not dare to contemplate it; besides it was so damp that I
feared to catch a chill that would be the death of me. I must keep my
circulation up as best I could. I had forgotten the eggs, which I had
guarded from damage during all the worming journey to my retreat, and
soon I was taking the first nourishment to pass my lips since the bite
of chicken about twenty-four hours previous. I ate them as slowly as
I could, seemingly in an attempt to stave off the moment when I would
not have anything else to eat. The burning thirst I had had for several
hours was increasing, but I sipped from my flask in a most sparing
manner, hoping to make my water supply last until I could replenish it.
It was not long after I had settled myself down to a long wait that I
heard voices not far off, and presently two boys, probably not more
than eight or ten years old, were passing the barn. I detected the
sniffing of a dog at the under-pinning wall and then a furious barking
and the rapid pawing of feet. Evidently the dog had scented the fresh
earth I had turned up and took it to mean that there was game not far
off. It made me apprehensive. I wished that such a beast as a dog
never had been created. Everything but a calm facing of the situation
possessed me. While my thoughts were running amuck, the boys had been
drawn into a discussion by their dog. I think that this resulted in
calming my nerves. One boy, the younger one I judged by his voice,
declared that Major had scented a woodchuck, and that they must help
him find it.
“Naw!” contradicted the other; “don’t ye know, foolish, that woodchucks
don’t keep under barns?”
“They might, you funny!” argued the little fellow. “Let’s see? Sick
’im, Maje! sick ’im!”
The pattering of paws I had heard was renewed with great energy,
interspersed with growls and plentiful yelps of impatience.
“Aw, come on!” called out the big boy; “they ain’t nothin’t heyar! I
tell ye no woodchucks stay under barns; it’s rats!”
This display of wisdom and emphatic decision put an end to the little
fellow’s case, and much to my relief Major was dragged away from the
wall. But it wasn’t the end of my troubles from that source entirely,
for three times during the day the pestiferous dog renewed the attack
on my peace of mind, each time being called off by his masters. Between
these visits I was seized with an intense desire to sleep, but, as
I have said, did not feel it safe to humor my brain. It seemed to me
about like attempting to commit suicide. Twice I discovered myself
drowsing away, and fearing to trust my will again, I fished a pin
from my clothing and prepared to jab myself the instant I felt the
drowsy desire mastering me. Afterward I found many little wounds in my
arms and legs which at first I could not account for, but tardily was
reminded of the manner in which I had applied that pin.
As night came on I began to feel less fearful, having an idea that
discovery under these conditions would not necessarily mean capture,
for I could run for it and evade any pursuit in the darkness. Having as
a youth spent many days on the farm, I felt at home in the fields and
hills; and now I possessed the confidence in myself, that with half a
chance I could outwit those who were, no doubt, on every side, anxious
to capture me. At last evening came, and I crawled out into the world
again, so to speak. The word “crawled” expresses to a dot just what I
did do; for not only while getting from under the barn, but after I
got outside, I was so cramped that walking was impossible for several
minutes. It was as though my locomotion had been suspended by rust.
Presently I managed to rise to my feet, and, finding a brook behind the
barn, quenched my thirst, washed myself, and refilled my flask.
Feeling very much refreshed, I headed for the railroad track and, with
my eyes and ears open, arrived at the outskirts of Steubenville in
the vicinity of one o’clock in the morning of Wednesday, having been
tramping and dodging my enemies nearly seventy-two hours. Avoiding the
principal streets, I gained the other side of the town, where I took
time to decide whether I would go on foot to Pittsburg, sixty-five
miles away, or seek out a barn, and, lying low until night, board an
east-bound train at Steubenville and make the journey by rail. I chose
the latter course and then set out to find a suitable hiding-place,
daybreak being fast on my heels before I had accomplished it. The best
I could do was a small barn in which there was less than a thousand
pounds of hay in a loft about a man’s height above the floor of a cow
stable. With my water flask full, but no food to nourish my body, my
stomach painfully distressing me for want of it, I burrowed under the
hay, and with but a few feet between me and the stable, and no more
than four feet of covering above me, I fixed myself as comfortably
as I could for the day. All together it bade fair to be a much more
acceptable stopping-place than the last one.
Soon after the sun rose--that I could tell by the appearance of things
below me--some one came to the stable. It was the farmer or one of
his men, I reckoned, but a man I knew it to be, by the unintelligible
mumbling he kept up, a habit very frequently possessed by men when
alone, though unconscious of it. As I lay perhaps less than a foot at
times from the man’s head, I could hear and sometimes see every move
he made; and when he was on the stool at the side of the cow, I could
hear the see-sawing “swirr” of the milk streaming down in the pail, and
I heartily wished I had a big panful of the rich life-giving fluid in
my almost famished stomach. For the moment I was carried back to my old
farm home and its happy days, when I had milk in plenty to drink, but
had not the appetite for it that possessed me as I lay in the hay-loft.
While the farmer was in the stable I did not dare to stir, the hay
being thick with seed and a fine substance that would shower below
through the open floor at the slightest movement I made. Having
finished his morning chores, the man left, and I had the barn to myself
until about noon, as near as I could judge, when I was aroused from a
sort of a doze by the voices of three young girls. They had come to
hunt eggs, I heard them say, and right away I wondered if it would take
them up in my hay-loft. How they did chatter; I thought the music of
their happy voices was about the sweetest I had listened to in many
days. I lay still, for the time being, forgetful of my surroundings,
just feasting my ears, when suddenly my enjoyment was turned into
apprehension; for the dear little girls had taken it into their heads
to transfer the scene of their egg-hunting from the lower part of the
barn to the hay-loft.
Sure enough, the next minute they came scrambling up on the hay, and
finding none of the article of which they were in search, began to
romp, tumble, chase each other, roll over and over, and in many other
ways disport themselves in the hay over me, until the seed and dust
well-nigh filled my ear that was uppermost and found a way into my
clothing, while my nostrils were choked so that breathing was rendered
most difficult. But that was not the worst of it, for I was suddenly
seized with an almost ungovernable desire to sneeze. I trembled at
what the consequences might be, were I to give way to this very
natural rebellion of my much imposed upon nose. I speak of it now in
an attempted vein of humor, but then it was a serious predicament in
which I was placed. A real healthy, atmosphere-tearing sneeze might
mean my undoing, after having come safely through many dangers to a
point where I was beginning to believe that I would outwit my enemies.
Once I choked back a spasm that caused my ears to snap and my eyes to
bulge from their sockets. I could not possibly withstand another attack
like that, I felt sure. I was in a desperate situation, when the girls,
suddenly becoming weary of their romp, climbed down from the loft and
ran laughing from the barn. I’ll warrant they hadn’t gone twenty
paces, when I emitted a tornado of a sneeze that shook me from top to
toe. What it would have done for me I fully realized upon hearing the
stamping of hoofs among the startled cows below me. For a few minutes
I lay quaking with dread, but after a little I was glad that I and the
dumb brutes underneath were the only witnesses as to that sneeze. After
the possibility of danger was passed, I couldn’t feel otherwise than
gratified over the action of nature, which had relieved me of the awful
tickling in my nostrils, and left in its stead the delicious sensation
of clear respiration.
The afternoon wore on without my nerves receiving further shocks,
as I continued in my nest of hay. The farmer came in and did his
milking, which told me that it was nearly sunset; and after I heard
the slamming of doors I concluded that it was about time for me to
begin my next move on the road toward New York and freedom from the
dread of momentary arrest. I was dull for want of sleep, and half ill
with the constant gnawing in my food-craving stomach, but I knew that
I must press on; so, leaving my nest, I cautiously let myself out of a
rear door of the barn, and, hunting up a brook near by, washed myself
hurriedly, put more water in my flask, and started through the barnyard
to the road. Suddenly my heart was set to throbbing violently by coming
close up to a man standing near a fence. It was no doubt the farmer
who owned the place. It was too late to retrace my steps, so, putting
on a bold front, I said “Good evening” and passed on. He may have
answered, that I don’t know; but he did eye me curiously, as he had a
perfect right to do, under the circumstances. I haven’t the least doubt
that a man, a stranger in fact, walking hatless in a fellow’s premises
about dark, is an occurrence not quite of the common order. It was
gratifying to me to know that night had set in enough to hide from him
the clay-washed clothing I wore and the abundance of hayseed and dust
that did anything but adorn my hair.
After this experience my haste to get a hat was augmented very much,
and, stopping at the first laborer’s shanty I came across, I bought
one not worth more than five cents, though I handed him a script
half-dollar. Indeed, I did not begrudge the money, for had he said ten
dollars he would have been welcome to the amount, and even double that.
To divert any suspicion that the fellow might have on seeing me without
a hat, I glibly told him that I had lost it in crossing the railroad
bridge, having come in contact with a heavy gust of wind, such was my
confounded luck. Then bidding him a pleasant adieu, I cut a switch from
a convenient bush and attempted, with not much success, to whip some
of the clay-wash from my clothing. On finishing I still cut a sorry
figure. Next I hunted up a small store, where I purchased a collar,
comb and brush, and a stiff whisk broom. Again I found a secluded spot
in a side street, where I worked my broom right vigorously. This time
I had the satisfaction of making my clothes somewhat presentable. No
Pullman car conductor ever worked his whisk broom as I worked mine in
the effort to find real cloth through the veneering of mud. I’ve seen
one of those negroes do more hustling after dust in a minute, when he
knew there was none, with a big tip in sight, than any other class of
servants under the sun. The dust he found wouldn’t have been much under
a microscope, but in my case I trow it would have heaped up a tea-cup.
With a clean collar and my hair combed and brushed as best I could, the
sky having been the roof of my toilet room, I was ready to invest a
little more money, so, seeking out another store, I fitted a becoming
hat to my seeded locks and was helped into a topcoat good enough to
keep it company. After this I began to have that feeling which the dude
possesses, and, to better fit the rôle, I sought a barber-shop, where
I asked to have my bristled face shaved, but declined the sympathetic
barber’s invitation to have my hair “cut or trimmed.” Of all the men
with “an eye to business,” I think the barber can discount the whole
lot, in making one really believe that he hasn’t the slightest designs
on money. He seems to think that his customer has arrived at the brink
of committing the unpardonable sin if he doesn’t have his hair cut,
and before the argument is finished, I’ll wager a hen’s egg against
a prize hennery that the deluded one will accept his barber as a
veritable oracle; and the most curious phase of all this is that the
knight of the scissors has, through familiarity with the rôle, come to
believe it himself. But I venture to say that he is nearly always round
when the money is handed out. But, back to my barber.
It almost brought tears to my eyes to resist the mute appeal in
his,--those eyes that were even more eloquently solicitous of my
welfare than his lips. But for personal reasons I had to pain him,
and presently I was stretched out in a chair and had my own way about
it. Goodness knows this barber may not be justly accused by me of
sparing his labor, for as I sat with my eyes closed most of the time,
his hands appeared to move rapidly enough, but I vow they were not so
active as was his voluble tongue. When he was not bombarding me, he was
exchanging words with a pair of loungers in the shop, who, like some
women, must gossip about something to pass the time away. I expected
to hear the Cadiz bank affair discussed, though I thought it must have
reached a stage of staleness by that time. Yet, when I heard the barber
broach the subject, a slight tremor, despite an effort to control
myself, went over me.
“Bright youngster that Dever,” he remarked to the loungers. I listened
intently.
“Yes? Who?” queried one of them.
“Jim Dever’s boy, down on the Wheeling road. You know, I s’pose, he wuz
the one that put the deputies on to the robbers. No? Well, he was up
that night, an’ it bein’ moonlight he sees a man at the hencoop, an’
it turned out sure ’nough to be one of ’em. He got in his pants in a
jiffy, followed th’ feller, and pretty soon he sees two deputies an’
tells ’em that he thinks th’ robbers are round. Th’ deputies get up to
snuff, and next day a gang of the boys swoops down on ’em.”
“Got ’em all, I s’pose,” interposed one of the loungers.
“Four of ’em,” answered the barber. “Two got away. They wuz six all
told. When th’ deputies went at ’em, three scooted up a wood road in
th’ ravine up there. Th’ boys cut round and got two of ’em. One got
away, but they know pretty much what he looks like, an’ he is bound to
be jugged in a day or two. They may get th’ other feller too. I don’t
know ’bout it, ’cause them deputies are boastin’ cusses.”
“Heard thet a bareheaded man wuz seen snoopin’ about a barn four or
five mile below here yesterday,” drawled a man whom I had not noticed.
He was sitting in the rear of the shop. I started so visibly that the
barber inquired of me, very solicitously, as to whether or not the
razor was keen enough. I said it pulled a little, whereupon he stropped
it noisily. In the meantime I had a moment in which to steady my
nerves and get a peep from under my eyebrows at the new speaker. I felt
reassured then, for he didn’t have the appearance of being any too
quick-witted. Nevertheless I had been seen by some one in my tramping.
I knew that I must be cautious.
As I listened to the whole story, recounted and discussed, I thought
of the pig-headed Utley and of how my words had come true, even to the
deputies finally locating us by the smoke at the old shanty in the
woods. I was glad that, if any of us must be arrested, he had come
in for his share of the harvest of his making. I may as well add,
right here, that his stubbornness cost four of our party the combined
sentence to prison of fifty-four years. It was a costly chicken indeed.
My thoughts were interrupted at this point by the barber asking me to
have my head shampooed. To my reply in the negative, he insisted that
my scalp would be ruined, it being covered with dust, and that my hair,
too, was full of hayseed and ought to be cleaned. I explained that I’d
been baling hay for a couple of days, that I really ought to have my
head washed, but that I’d come in the next day, when I had more time.
I spent no more minutes there than necessary, after the half-hour
edifying conversation I was compelled to hear. Getting out, I went to
the opposite side of the street, and, securing a convenient doorway
for a shadow, remained there ten minutes, intently watching the barber
shop. To my relief I saw nothing that made me think any one there
suspected me of being one of the Cadiz bank burglars.