bored next to the place where the bolt shot into the socket. Two or
three minutes were occupied in this work. Charley then succeeded in
drawing back the bolt with his fingers, a little at a time, when the
trap was carefully lifted far enough to let the merchant squeeze his
body through it, and so up into the store. As this was felt to be the
critical moment, those who were left below listened breathlessly for
any sound from above, as the trap was immediately lowered after the
merchant passed through it.
It was, of course, pitch-dark in the store, but knowing the way as
well in the dark as in the daytime, and being in his stocking-feet,
the merchant stood only a moment to listen. Out of the darkness the
sleeping watchmen could be heard snoring heavily away in the little
corner office. Groping his way with cat-like tread, the merchant,
with two or three quick turns of the wrist, screwed a gimlet into the
woodwork of the office door, over the latch, thus securely fastening
the sleepers in. Observing the same precautions, he then felt for the
lock on the front door, and finding the key in the lock he turned it
softly, putting the key in his pocket. Even should they awake, the
watchmen inside the office could only get out by breaking down the
door; while their comrade outside would be kept from coming to their
assistance. The merchant had certainly shown himself not only to be a
man of nerve, but no mean strategist.
The merchant having signaled that all was safe, all the rest of the
party, except Walter, immediately joined him. The safe was speedily
located, some loose gunny-bags were spread upon the floor to deaden
the sound, two stout slings were quickly passed around the safe, the
tackle hooked on, and in less than ten minutes the object of the
adventure was safely lowered into the lighter. No time was lost in
getting the scow clear of her dangerous berth, nor was it until they
had put a long stretch of water behind them that the adventurers
breathed freely.
The daring midnight burglary was duly chronicled in the evening papers
as one of the boldest and most successful known to the criminal
annals of San Francisco. Would it be believed, it was asked, that
with three heavily armed guards on the watch inside and outside of
the building, the burglars had actually succeeded in carrying off so
bulky an article as an iron safe under the very noses of these alleged
guardians? Connivance on their part was strongly hinted at. The police
were on the track of the gang who did the job, and the public might
rest assured that when caught they would be given short shrift. The
burglars were supposed to have sunk the safe in the harbor after
rifling it of its contents.
XIV
CHARLEY AND WALTER GO A-GUNNING
Charley frequently came ashore in the evening, leaving Bill in charge
of the ship. Walter ranched at Clark's Point, near the waterside, and
only a few steps from the landing place. The neighborhood, to tell
the truth, did not bear a very good reputation, it being a resort for
sailors of all nations, whose nightly carousals in the low dramshops
generally kept the place in an uproar till morning, and often ended in
bloodshed.
Walter was busily engaged in sewing up a rip in his overalls, meantime
humming to himself snatches of "The Old Folks at Home," when Charley
came stamping into the room. Seating himself on an empty nail-keg, he
proceeded to free his mind in the following manner:
"You've been working pretty steady now for--how long?"
"Three months last Monday," assisted Walter, consulting a chalk mark
on the wall.
"Long 'nuff to entitle you to a bit of a vacation, I'm a-thinkin'.
What say to takin' a little gunnin' trip up country? Bill knows the
ropes now pretty well. A friend of mine 'll lend me the shootin'
fixin's. Couldn't you get off for a few days, think? Come, get that
Ramon chap out of your head for a bit. It's wearin' on you."
Walter jumped at the offer. Thus far he had never set foot out of the
city, and Charley, an enthusiast in anything that he had set his mind
upon, now portrayed the delights of a tramp among the foothills of
the Coast Range in glowing colors. Walter easily found a substitute
for the few days he expected to be away, while Charley had nobody's
permission to ask. So the very next afternoon saw the two sportsmen
crossing the ferry to Contra Costa, Charley carrying a rifle and
Walter a shotgun, the necessary traps for camping out being divided
equally between them.
"I only hope we may set eyes on a grizzly," Charley remarked, slapping
the breech of his rifle affectionately, as they stepped on shore.
"That's why I chose this feller," he added.
"Better let grizzlys alone. From all I hear they're pretty tough
customers," was Walter's cautious comment.
"I don't care. Just you wait till I see one, that's all. I'm all fixed
for him--lock, stock, and barrel."
They soon struck into the well-beaten road leading to the Coast Range,
and after steadily tramping until dark entered a small settlement
where travelers, coming and going over this route, usually put up for
the night. A night's lodging was soon arranged for at the only public
house that the place could afford, and after eating a hearty supper,
and leaving word with the landlord to call them up as soon as it was
light in the morning, the two amateur hunters were glad to tumble into
bed.
The house was a two-story frame building, with the second-story
windows in front opening upon a veranda, after the Southern style
of public houses. The air being hot and close in their room, Walter
threw up a window the first thing upon going into it. He saw that one
might easily step out from the room onto the veranda, or in, for that
matter. Then, there was no lock on the door, but as neither he nor
Charley was afraid of being robbed, the want of a lock did not prevent
their going to sleep as soon as they struck their beds. It is probable
that they did not even turn over once during the night.
Walter was awakened by the sound of a gentle scratching, or tapping,
at the door. Upon opening his eyes he perceived that it was beginning
to be quite light. He listened until the sound was repeated, sat up in
bed, and being satisfied that it must be some one calling them to get
up, slipped out of bed, yawning and stretching himself, went to the
door, half opened it, and, still only half awake, peered out.
What he saw made him start back in affright, and his hair to rise up
on his head In an instant.
Standing erect on his hind feet, clumsily beating the air with his
forepaws and lolling out a long red tongue, was an enormous, shaggy
grizzly bear at least a foot taller than Walter himself.
One look was enough. Giving one yell, Walter made a dash for the open
window, leaped out upon the veranda, vaulted over it, and grasping
firm hold of the railing, let himself drop down into the street.
Imagining that the bear was close behind, he incontinently took to his
heels, not even turning to look back over his shoulder to see what had
become of Charley.
Startled out of a sound sleep by Walter's cry of alarm, Charley threw
off the bedclothes, rubbed his eyes, and, with their aid, saw the
bear waddling with rolling gait into the room on all fours. He too
made a dash for the window, adopting without hesitation the only route
of escape open to him.
The bear quickly followed suit, sliding with ease down an upright,
and, on touching the ground, immediately set off after the fugitives,
upon whom the discovery that the bear was after them acted like a spur
upon a mettled charger. They no longer ran, they flew.
[Illustration: The hunters hunted by a grizzly bear.--_Page 208._]
Up to this hour the village had not shaken off its slumbers, but the
frantic shouts of the fugitives, who saw that the faster they ran the
faster ran the bear, quickly aroused other sleepers from their morning
nap. Dogs began to bark and give chase to the bear. Windows began to
be thrown up, and heads to appear at them. Still the race for life
continued. Bruin was evidently gaining upon the fugitives, who could
not much longer keep up the pace at which they were going. Feeling his
breath failing him, Charley, who was a few rods behind Walter, had
even almost made up his mind to stop short in his tracks, face about,
and let the bear work its will upon him, so giving his bosom friend a
chance to escape.
Fortunately, however, this heroic self-sacrifice was not to be made.
At the last house a street door was seen very cautiously to open,
while a head protruded from it. Ceremony here was quite out of the
question. Walter instantly dashed into this welcome haven of refuge,
with Charley, now quite spent, at his heels, overturning the man of
the house in their mad rush for safety. It took but a moment to shut
and bolt the door, and, as if that was not enough, Walter braced his
back against it, panting and breathless. Only when this was done, did
the two friends draw a free breath. Both were completely done up.
Excited by the chase, enraged at seeing his victims escaping, the bear
snuffed the air, pawed at the door, swayed his huge bulk to and fro,
and gave vent to his rage in loud and unearthly roarings that could be
heard by every inhabitant of the village.
Meantime the man into whose premises the two young men had so
unceremoniously entered, after taking a good look at the bear out of
the window, almost bent double in the effort to control his laughter.
"Why, boys," said he, between fits of choking, "that's Jem Stackpole's
tame grizzly." He had recognized the animal now holding them besieged
as one that had been taken when a cub, and brought up by the landlord
of the public house from which the boys had made their sudden exit,
as an object of curiosity to his guests. The iron collar which Bruin
still wore confirmed this account. It was all plain enough now. Having
contrived to free himself from his chain, the bear had easily gained
access to the house by climbing up the before-mentioned veranda
bear-fashion. He was considered quite harmless, the man explained,
but on seeing the young men run away the bear had run after them, at
first out of mere playfulness. So Walter and Charley had been running
a race with a tame grizzly, through the public street of the village,
in broad daylight, in their night clothes.
By this time something of a crowd had collected, all tongues going at
once. The laugh of course went against the boys, though some were in
favor of shooting the bear, and so putting an end to his wild pranks.
His master, however, who now came forward with a pitchfork in one
hand and an earthenware dish containing a stiff mixture of whisky and
honey in the other, objected to having the bear killed, although the
creature was now so ferocious that no one dared to go near him.
Setting the dish down upon the ground, and silently waving the crowd
back, the man began calling the bear by his pet name of "Rusty" in
a coaxing tone, and presently Bruin, having scented the seductive
mixture, marched toward it and began lapping it up, occasionally
emitting a fierce growl by way of notifying the bystanders to keep
their distance.
By the time the dish was licked clean Bruin was dead-drunk and rolling
helplessly in the dirt. His chain was then securely fastened on, and
the brute ignominiously dragged off to the stable to sleep off his
potations.
Walter and Charley were compelled to borrow a pair of trousers apiece
before they could venture back to the public house, the observed of
all observers. Needless to say, they made all haste to leave the
inhospitable spot. Upon calling for their bill, the landlord declared
there was nothing to pay, and, with a straight face, politely hoped
they would recommend his house to their friends.
Walter insisted upon paying, but the landlord was firm. The fame of
the tame-bear hunt would attract customers to his house, he said.
Under the circumstances he could not think of making any charge
whatever.
When they were well out of the village, Charley, who had maintained a
dogged silence, suddenly turned to Walter and exclaimed, "I won't tell
if you won't!"
"Don't be a ninny," was the curt reply.
"If I'd only had my rifle!" muttered Charley, who, all the same, could
not forbear looking backward every few minutes as they trudged on.
The disconsolate pair made their way up among the foothills, but
neither seemed to be in the right mood for keen sportsmen, or else
game was not so plenty as they had expected to find it. After
Charley had blown the nipple out of his rifle in firing at a coyote,
and Walter had shot half a dozen rabbits, which, though wounded,
succeeded in reaching their holes and crawling into them, the twain
willingly turned their faces homeward. Footsore and weary, but with
appetites sharpened by their long tramp, they were only too glad
to set foot once again in the streets of the city. With a brief "So
long, Charley," "So long, Walt," "Mum, you know," "Hope to die," they
separated to go their respective ways.
XV
THE YOUNG VIGILANTES
While on his way to work on Saturday morning, full of his own
thoughts, Walter could not help noticing the absence of the usual
bustle and movement in the streets. If the shops had not been open, he
would have thought it was Sunday, instead of the last day of the week.
All business seemed to be at a standstill. Merchants stood outside
their doors, glancing uneasily up and down the street and from time to
time holding whispered talks with their neighbors. Every one wore a
sober face; every one seemed expecting something to happen. But what
was it? What could it be?
Yesterday Walter would have passed along the same streets hardly
noticed. To-day he wondered why everybody stared at him so. Furbish
was about starting off on his dray when Walter reached the stand. He,
too, hardly replied when Walter gave him the customary "Good-morning."
What could it all mean?
Suddenly the big bell on the plaza thundered out three heavy
strokes--one, two, three, and no more--boom! boom! boom!
To the last day of his life Walter never forgot the sight that
followed. At the first stroke of that deep-toned bell the strange
quiet burst its bounds. Those already in the streets started off on
the run for the plaza. Those who were indoors rushed out, buckling on
their weapons as they ran. Workmen threw down their tools to join in
the race. Furbish jumped off his dray, shouting to Walter as he ran,
"Come on! Don't you hear it?" There was no noise except the trampling
of feet. Nobody asked a question of his neighbor. But every eye wore a
look of grim determination, as if some matter of life and death dwelt
in the imperious summons of that loud alarm-bell.
After gazing a moment in utter bewilderment, Walter started off on the
run with the rest. He, too, had caught the infection. The distance was
nothing. He found the plaza already black with people. Beyond him,
above the heads of the crowd, he saw a glittering line of bayonets;
nearer at hand men were pouring out of a building at the right, with
muskets in their hands. Walter stood on tiptoe. Some one was speaking
to the crowd from an open window fronting the plaza, but Walter was
too far off to catch a single word. The vast throng was as still as
death. Then as the speaker put some question to vote, one tremendous
"aye" went up from a thousand throats. It was the voice of an outraged
people pronouncing the doom of evil-doers.
By the gleam of satisfaction on the faces around him, Walter knew that
something of unusual moment had just been decided upon. Burning with
curiosity he timidly asked his nearest neighbor what it all meant.
First giving him a blank look the man addressed curtly replied, "Get
a morning paper," then moved off with the crowd, which was already
dispersing, leaving the plaza in quiet possession of a body of
citizen soldiers, with sentinels posted, and the strong arm of a new
power uplifted in its might. That power was the dreaded Vigilantes,
organized, armed, and ready for the common protection.
Though terribly in earnest, it was by far the most orderly multitude
Walter remembered ever having seen, and he had seen many. In the
newspaper he read what everybody else already knew, that one of the
most prominent citizens had been brutally murdered in cold blood by
a well-known gambler, in a crowded street and at an early hour of
the previous evening. The victim's only provocation consisted in
having spoken out like a man against the monstrous evils under which
the law-abiding citizens had so long and so silently been groaning.
This murder was the last straw. The murderer had been promptly taken
by members of the secret Committee of Vigilance; the trial had been
swift; and the hangman's noose was being made ready for its victim.
The account closed with a burning appeal to all law-abiding citizens,
at every cost, to rid the city of the whole gang of gamblers, thieves,
and outlaws infesting it like a plague. "When the sworn officers of
the law are so notoriously in league with such miscreants, nothing is
left for the people but to rise in their might. _Vox populi, vox Dei!_
Down with the Hounds!"
Charley and Bill were quietly eating their noonday meal, when Walter
burst into the _Argonaut's_ cabin in a state of wild excitement.
Without stopping to take breath, he rapidly related what he had seen
and heard that morning, while his listeners sat with wide-open eyes
until the tale was finished.
For a few moments the three friends stared at each other in silence.
Ever prompt, Charley was the first to break it. Jumping to his feet,
he struck the haft of his knife on the table with such force as to
set the dishes rattling, then waving it in the air he cried out
exultingly, "Now we've got him!" As the others made no reply except to
look askance, he went on to say, "Don't you see that, foxy as he is,
Ramon will be smoked out of his hole? Didn't I tell you there would
be hanging before long? Why, there won't be one of his kidney left in
'Frisco inside of a week."
"You're right," said Walter, "for as I came along I saw men putting up
posters ordering all criminals out of the city, on pain of being put
on board an outbound vessel and shipped off out of the country."
"Good enough for 'em, too. The heft of 'em is Sydney Ducks an'
ticket-o'-leave men, anyhow," quoth Bill, with a shake of the head.
"Hark!" commanded Walter, holding up his hand for silence. Even as
he spoke, the deep tones of a bell came booming across the water. At
that moment the bodies of two condemned murderers were swinging from
crossbeams from an upper window of the plaza.
"If we're ever going to catch that chap, we'd better set about it
before it's too late. What's to hinder our working this Vigilante
business a little on our own hook? Nothing. Who's going to ask any
questions? Nobody. Do you catch my idee?" questioned Charley.
Without more words the three friends hastened on shore, Walter leading
the way to his stand. They had agreed not to separate again, and were
busy talking over their plans when a Chinaman came up to Walter and
slipped a paper in his hand. Walter ran his eye over it, then crushed
it in his hand. Turning to the Chinaman he simply said, "All right,
John; I'll be there."
"Allee light," repeated the Chinaman, making off into the crowd.
Walter drew the heads of his two friends close to his own. Then he
whispered: "What do you think? This is an order to take some things
from a certain house on Dupont Street to a warehouse on Long Wharf, at
ten o'clock to-night. (Night work's double pay.) I can't be mistaken.
The order is in _his_ handwriting; I could swear to it."
"I consait we orter follow the Chinee," Bill suggested tentatively.
"No," objected Charley. "Prob'ly he'd lead us a wild-goose chase all
over town. If Walter's right, we're hot on the scent now. Don't muddy
the water, I say. The eel's a slippery cuss, and might wiggle away.
Bill, let's you and I go take a look at that warehouse. Walt, don't
you let on that you suspicion a thing. Why, you're all of a tremble,
man! Straighten out your face. Anybody could read it like a book. Pull
yourself together. Look at me! By jings, I feel like a fighting-cock
just now!"
"What a bantam!" muttered Bill, following in Charley's springing
footsteps.
At ten o'clock Walter was at the door of the house on Dupont Street
with his cart. His knock was answered by the same Chinaman who had
brought him the note in the morning. Several parcels were brought
out and placed in the cart, but still no sign of the owner. The
Chinaman then explained, in his pigeon English, that this person would
meet Walter at the warehouse on the wharf, for which place Walter
immediately started, revolving in his own mind whether this was not
some trick of Ramon's contriving to throw him, Walter, off the scent.
Nobody appeared to answer Walter's knock at the warehouse door.
Evidently it was deserted, but a low whistle gave notice that Charley
and Bill were close at hand. Indeed, so well had they concealed
themselves that Walter had passed on without seeing them.
"Have you got the rope all right, Bill?" Walter nervously whispered,
as the three crouched in the friendly shadow of a narrow passageway,
while waiting for their victim to show himself.
"Sartin," that worthy calmly replied, "and all I wish is that
what's-his-name was on one end, and I on t'other."
"I don't half like this way of doing things; looks too much like
kidnapping," Walter whispered, half to himself.
"Come, Walt, you're not going to show the white feather now, after all
this trouble, I hope," Charley impatiently said. "Ssh! here he comes.
It's now or never."
Sure enough, the sound of approaching footsteps was now plainly heard.
As Ramon came nearer, walking fast, Bill, stepping out of the shadows,
slowly lurched along ahead, cleverly imitating the zigzag walk of a
tipsy sailor--no unusual sight at that time of night. When Ramon had
passed a few rods beyond their hiding place, Charley quietly slipped
out behind him, taking care to tread as softly as one of Cooper's
Indians on the warpath. This plan had been carefully devised, for fear
that Ramon might give an alarm if they attempted, all at once, to rush
out upon him unawares. They now held their intended victim, as it
were, between two fires.
At that hour the street was so lonely and deserted that there was
little fear of interruption, so Charley did not hurry. When Bill had
reached the place agreed upon, where the street narrowed to a lane
in which not more than two persons could walk abreast, he began to
slacken his pace, so as to let Ramon come up with him. As nothing
could be seen, at a few rods off, in that uncertain light, the signal
agreed upon was to be given by Bill's striking a match, when Walter
and Charley were to come up as rapidly as possible.
As Ramon tried to push on by Bill, that worthy placed himself squarely
in the way, pulled out his pipe, and gruffly demanded a light. He
acted his part so well as completely to disarm Ramon's suspicions,
had he had any.
At being thus suddenly brought to a stand, Ramon attempted to shoulder
Bill out of his path, but on finding himself stoutly opposed, he
instinctively drew back a step.
"Refuse a gen'leman a light, does yer? Want a whole street to
yourself, does yer?" sputtered Bill, obstinately holding his ground.
Ramon made a threatening movement. "Shove! I dare ye, ye lubber,"
continued the irate sailor, purposely raising his voice as his
companion came in sight. "I'm a match for you any day in the week," he
grumbled, striking a light as if to enforce the challenge.
By the light of the match Bill instantly recognized Ramon. At the same
moment Ramon saw that the speaker was a total stranger. Charley barred
the way behind him. Ramon's first thought had been that he was being
waylaid by footpads and, instinctively his hand went to his pistol;
but as no demand was made for his valuables, he quickly concluded it
to be a chance encounter with a couple of tipsy sailors. A street row
was the very thing he most dreaded. He was in a fever to be off. Then
the thought struck him that perhaps he might turn these fellows to his
own advantage. So he altered his tone at once. "Oh, it's all right,
lads," he said apologetically, "but one must be careful in these
times, you know; and you certainly did give me a start. Never mind. If
you've got a boat handy, I'll make this the best night's work you ever
did in the whole course of your lives."
Charley, who had edged up closer, now nudged Bill to hold his tongue.
Speaking thickly, Charley said: "If you wants a boat we've got the one
we was just goin' off in aboard ship. She lays right here, just ahead
of us. If you come down han'some, we're the lads you want. 'Nuff said."