AN ARMED ESCORT.
Luke Robbins entered at once upon his duties as janitor of the
Emmonsville bank. It was rather difficult, however, to supply him with
employment enough to account for his being in constant attendance.
He was provided with a broom, and in the morning swept the bank.
Sometimes he washed the windows; at other times he sat on a bench in
the rear of the bank, ready for any call upon his services. So far as
garb went, he resembled a Quaker, but his brown face and sharp eyes
hardly harmonized with his assumed character. Still less did the
revolver which he carried in an inside pocket.
Several days passed, and though Luke kept a sharp lookout for the Fox
brothers, he did not catch a glimpse of anyone who suggested or
resembled them.
Then one morning Luke went to the bank as usual and put on his Quaker
garb.
About eleven o'clock an elderly man appeared and presented a check for
five hundred dollars. The money was paid him, and then he lingered a
moment, ill at ease.
"I don't like to have so much money about me," he said, in a tone that
betrayed anxiety.
"No doubt you will find plenty who would be willing to relieve you of
it," rejoined the paying teller, with a smile.
"That's what I am afraid of. They do say that the Fox brothers have
been seen not far away."
"Is it absolutely necessary that you should have the money in your
possession? You could leave it in the bank, or most of it."
"I shall want to use some of it to-morrow, and I live ten miles
away--in Claremont."
"How are you going back?"
"I have a buggy outside."
"The road to Claremont is rather lonely, I believe."
"Yes."
"Why don't you get some one to go with you?"
"I don't know any one I could get."
"I can find you a companion, but he would want to be paid."
"I'll pay him if he'll see me through all right."
"I have the very man for you. Here, Luke!"
Luke Robbins heard the call and approached.
"The farmer looked at him doubtfully.
"A Quaker?" he said, in a disappointed tone.
"He is no more a Quaker than you are. He is a detective, and very
anxious to meet either of the Fox brothers."
The farmer brightened up.
"He's the man I'm after, then."
A bargain was struck between Luke and Ezekiel Mason, whereby the
farmer promised to pay him five dollars to accompany him home and
remain over night at the farm-house until he had disposed of the money
the way he intended.
Luke was glad to accept the proposal. It promised variety, and
possibly adventure. The farmer climbed into the buggy, and the Quaker
detective, following, took a seat by his side.
After they had driven some time they reached a part of the road where
for a clear mile in advance there was not a house or building of any
kind to be seen.
"This is the place I was most afraid of," said the farmer.
"Yes, it seems to be lonely. I wish one of the Fox brothers would
happen along."
"Why?" asked the farmer, in a tone of alarm.
"Because I would like to tackle him."
"Why are you so anxious to tackle him? I cannot understand."
"Then I'll tell you, my honest friend. There is a reward of a thousand
dollars offered for the capture of one of these famous outlaws, dead
or alive."
Ezekiel Mason shrugged his shoulders.
"I'd rather earn the money some other way!" he said.
"You are only a peaceful farmer, while I am a fighting Quaker,"
responded Luke.
As he spoke he looked up the road, and his glance fell upon a short,
compactly built man, in a gray suit, who was walking towards them. He
seemed a quiet, commonplace person, but there was something about him
that attracted Luke's attention.
"Do you know that man?" he asked abruptly.
"No," answered Mason, after a rapid glance.
"Are the Fox brothers tall men?" asked Luke.
"One only."
"The other?"
"Is about the size of the man who is approaching."
Luke did not reply, but examined still more critically the advancing
pedestrian.
"If this should be one of the Foxes," he began.
"Do you think it is?" asked the farmer in a terrified tone.
"I can't tell. If it proves to be, do exactly as I tell you."
"Yes," replied the farmer, now thoroughly alarmed.
By this time the new-comer was but twenty feet distant. Though his
appearance and dress were commonplace, his eyes, as they could see,
were dark and glittering.
He made a halt.
"Friends," he said, "can you oblige me with the time?"
The farmer was about to produce his big, old-fashioned, silver watch,
when Luke nudged him sharply.
"Leave him to me," he whispered, in a tone audible only to the farmer.
"Thee has asked the wrong party," he said aloud. "We don't carry
watches."
The pedestrian regarded him with contempt. Whoever he might be, he
looked upon a Quaker as a mild, inoffensive person, hardly deserving
the name of man.
"I didn't speak to you," he said scornfully.