The Bank Robbery
Phil was sound asleep in bed when a noise of some kind brought him
partly back to sensibility. He turned uneasily. The noise came again.
Someone was throwing gravel up at his window. He jumped out of bed,
pulled out the sliding screen-window and looked over.
A man on horseback was below.
"That you, Phil?"
"Yes!"
The horseman was Howden, the recently promoted Police Chief.
"Big things doing! If you're game for a night ride, wake Jim and both
of you come down quick. We're shy of men and you two have a pair of
good horses."
"What is it?"
"Tell you when you come. Bring a gun, and hurry, for every minute
counts."
Phil went to Jim's room across the passage. Jim, ever ready for an
adventure, was on the floor in a second; and both were dressed and
downstairs in five minutes.
"Won't a car take us quicker?"
"No!" replied Howden. "It is likely to be a chase over the ranges."
They saddled their horses and lined up on each side of the Police
Chief, who immediately started off.
"Cattle thieves?" asked Jim.
"Worse'n that! The Commercial Bank's been broken into, the safe blowed
up and every blamed bill in the institootion pinched."
"Well, I'll be-darned!"
"Just our blasted luck, too!" said Howden quickly and in excitement as
they trotted on, "Jamieson, my deputy, is in Vancouver, sick; Hardie
went to Kamloops yesterday with a couple of prisoners. There is hardly
a real policeman in town,--only me, Downie and McConnachie.
"The Mayor left on the train two days ago for the Coast.
"Downie, who for once wasn't boozed, noticed someone slip over the
back window at the Bank. There were half a dozen of them in the lane,
he says. He couldn't do a thing but watch. Three of them took off by
the B.X. way on horseback; two of them made for the Coldcreek Road,
and the other two made for the Okanagan Landing. Downie thinks there
is another, but he isn't sure."
"Where are they all now?" asked Jim.
"Tell you later.
"We've to go up along the Kelowna Road, case any of them double back
and try that way. They've got a hell of a haul among them. We'll be
coverin' nearly every road, for Downie has scared up a bunch and is
off up the B.X. route. McConnachie got three with him on to the
Landing. Thompson, the Government Agent, is away hell-for-leather with
Morrison on the Coldcreek Road.
"Gee!--but it'll be great dope if I land them."
"It will be further promotion and highly commended," remarked Phil.
Howden grinned, but the grin could only be surmised by the others, for
it was dark just preceding the dawn. They cantered quickly up the hill
and on to the level winding road cut along the side of the hills, with
the endless ranges on the right and a sheer drop into the Kalamalka
Lake on the immediate left.
"But how did they pull it off, Howden? Didn't the bank have a watchman
on the premises?"
"Sure they had!--that greasy Chink, Ah Sing, and half a dozen black
cats."
Jim laughed.
"We found Sing gagged and tied up to one of the big desks."
Jim whistled.
"Where is Sing now?"
"Where we can get him when we want him," answered Howden. "I put him
under lock and key right away."
"The best place for him," remarked Jim.
"He's whimpering like a baby-monkey, too. We'll get all we want out of
him before he's long there."
"Did you find out how they got into the bank?"
"That's the fishy bit! Sing says he opened the door and looked out for
a breath of air, when someone hit him over the nut. The next he says
he remembers was being tied up. His head is cut open all right, but
all the same, I wouldn't wonder if the Chink's a liar."
"They say they have a reputation for that kind of thing," put in
Phil.
Jim's brain was busy, but he remained silent.
They galloped hard along that part of the road which diverged from the
Lake, keeping their eyes to the right in the direction of the old
trail between the hills to the Landing, and straight ahead also where
the road ran parallel again three hundred feet above the water.
There was no moon. The night was dark, but away over Blue Nose
Mountain the grey of dawn was slowly creeping.
Like a writhing snake, the Kelowna Road turned and twisted round the
hills which almost precipitated into the dark waters below.
The riders were now going Indian file owing to the darkness and the
narrowness of the path. Phil, who was ahead--for he had a horse that
refused to stay in the rear of any other horse--turned the first bend.
He reined back suddenly, causing the others to do the same. He held up
a warning hand.
Cautiously they looked ahead round the crumbling rock.
Half-way between where they were and the next turn, a lone horseman
was standing, intent on the adjusting of the girths and heavy
saddlebags on his steaming horse. He looked over his shoulder every
second or so in the direction of the Landing, as if he feared he might
be suddenly surprised.
"By God!" whispered Howden, atremble with excitement, "one of them!"
"Sssh!" cautioned Phil.
Gathering for a dash, they sprang round the turn with a yell, Phil's
horse fairly leaping ahead of the others.
The man by the horse looked up in astonishment. Evidently he had not
been anticipating pursuit from that quarter. With an astounding
agility for a man of his apparent bulk, he sprang clear from the
ground into the saddle of his tall horse, and he was off like a
whirlwind.
The three followed after at breakneck speed, but neither Jim's horse
nor Howden's was a match for the great striding beast in front of
them. Phil's speedy little mare was the only one that could in any way
hold its own.
They covered a mile in a heart-breaking pace, and by that time Phil
was three hundred yards in front of Jim and Howden, with the hunted
man two hundred yards further ahead still.
At every bend and turn, Phil's heart stood still in the fear of an
ambush, but he could do nothing but take that chance, if he ever
wished to keep his quarry in sight. The lone rider, however, had
evidently only one thought and that was to shake his pursuers.
The light was creeping up every minute. Phil looked away behind
him and fancied he saw other riders tailing in behind Jim and
Howden,--which was true, for the two had been joined by McConnachie
and one other who had pursued the horseman but had been outridden
by him over the old road from Okanagan Landing.
Phil began to realise that he was slowly gaining. The man ahead also
became anxiously aware of the fact, for he cast a critical glance over
his shoulder every now and again as if measuring the space between.
Through the part gloom, Phil noticed that he was masked and heavily
bearded. He was unable to identify the figure with any he had seen in
the Valley, and it flashed through his mind in a sub-conscious way
that possibly a gang from the other side of the Line had engineered
the bank robbery. Yet there was something in the gait of the great,
striding, shadowy horse that was strangely familiar to him, even in
the darkness that still held almost undisputed sway.
Twice that great brute ahead stumbled as if almost spent. Foot by foot
Phil gained, until a bare fifty yards divided them.
The horseman rounded another bend in the road. Phil dashed along in
hot chase.
He slowed up a bit, for the turning was treacherous. From the shadow
of one of the great, shelving, cut-away rocks, the horseman in waiting
jumped out on him. Phil's mare plunged its fore feet into the soft
earth, then reared in terror. The robber pulled a gun and fired. The
shot nicked a tiny piece from Phil's ear as it sang past. The man shot
again, this time without any apparent effect. He wheeled round,
spurred his horse and dashed off once more along the narrow path,
making for the last turn in the precipitous highway ere it ran from
the side of the Lake across a cut in the hills and into the thickly
wooded country.
Phil shook his reins. His mare sprang forward eagerly and held her own
for a little. But suddenly she began to swing in her stride, then she
stumbled, almost throwing her rider. Phil pulled her in and jumped to
the ground, just in time, for she collapsed in a quivering heap, with
blood oozing from a tiny hole in her chest and from her foaming mouth
and distended nostrils.
Something rose in Phil's throat, almost choking him. In his chagrin,
he raised his fist and shook it at the retreating horseman, who, as if
sensing his opponent's impotence at the same time as he became
exultant over his triumph and escape, stood up in his stirrups, turned
completely in his saddle, pulled off his hat and waved it defiantly.
It was thus that he mirrored himself on Phil's mind as he disappeared
momentarily round that dangerous bend.
But it was only for the flash of a second that the picture was shut
out. There was a shout and the sound of a crash. The great horse
reappeared at the sharp angle of the path, rearing high on its hind
legs, with its rider clinging precariously to its perpendicular body
as he struggled frantically with the stirrups as if trying to kick
free. The animal backed wildly against the frail wooden rail on the
left--erected there simply for the safety of pedestrians in the dark.
The fence gave way like matchwood, the rearing figure of the horse
with its rider balanced on the edge for a moment, then slowly toppled
backward amid a rush of loose, falling debris, sheer two hundred feet
to the rocky bed of the shallow water of the Lake below.
Phil was petrified at the sight, but he quickly regained his
composure, left his dying horse and ran forward to the scene of the
accident.
Jim Langford, Howden, McConnachie and the ever-ready Morrison of
The O.K. Company came racing along behind, reaching the place
simultaneously with him.
Immediately on the other side of the cut-away, an old Chinaman was
lying nursing a damaged and bloody head, and about him was littered
the wreckage of his broken wagon and scattered vegetables; while his
ramshackle horse was grazing unconcernedly a few yards farther along.
"By God!--we got him," again exclaimed Howden, mopping his face as he
got off his horse.
They peered over the edge of the precipice.
"Dead, I guess, from the looks of that tangle down there!" said Jim.
"Have you any idea who he is?"
"No!" answered Phil. "An old, hard-nut, evidently. He is masked and
wears a beard. I am positive, though, that the horse is Brenchfield's.
They must have known its matchless speed and stolen it. He sure was
some rider to take a chance with that brute."
"Gee!--the Mayor'll have a cat-fit when we tell him. He was bugs on
that horse o' his," said Howden.
"Who is going down to bring him up?" asked McConnachie.
"I'll go," put in Howden.
"No!--better let Phil go! He is not quite so heavy as you are, Howden,
and he has more spring to him."
Ropes were taken from the saddles and joined together. Phil was
lowered slowly over the side and down. He reached the bottom in
safety, but was unable to do anything single-handed, for the great
dead horse was lying completely on top of the dead rider.
"Better come down, Jim," he shouted up. "It is more than a one man
job."
He sent up his rope, and soon Jim was down beside him. Together they
partly dragged and partly rolled the horse from off the dead man. Its
neck had apparently been broken in the fall.
Every bone in the body of the bank robber was crushed and broken with
the weight of the horse falling on top. But his masked and bearded
face appeared to be unmarred. Life was completely gone.
Phil stooped down and removed the mask. As he did so, his face turned
ashy pale and his breath began to come in gulps. Quickly and nervously
he put his fingers through the man's black beard and tugged. The hair
came away in his hands, and he gazed in horror at a face he was well
familiar with.
He rose from his knee, passed his hand over his eyes and his brow,
then staggered against the damp bank.
"Great God, Jim! It's--it's Brenchfield!" he gasped.
Jim stood looking silently at the corpse on the ground, his face
peculiarly unperturbed. He stepped over to Phil and put his arm
comfortingly over his shoulder.
"Well, old man! his sins have found him out at last. He had to come
back to it,--a thief always does. He's got the last hair out of the
dog that bit him.
"Brace up, old fellow! I hate to ask you to handle him, but--well--the
hate part of it is gone now."
Phil recovered himself and quietly assisted Jim in adjusting the rope
round the great, limp body.
They did not shout their discovery to those above, but left the
surprise of it to the arrival.
But they had to wait some time and had to shout several times before
the rope was lowered by the half-stupefied men above.
Jim and Phil loosened the saddlebags from the dead horse. These were
stuffed to overflowing with bills of all denominations; seemingly the
entire theft from the Commercial Bank.
One after the other, each carrying a bag, Phil and Jim were pulled up
on to the roadway.
"The dirty, two-faced son-of-a-gun!" was the only remark made, and it
came from Howden. No other words were necessary, for that phrase
expressed their opinions concretely.
Brenchfield's body was hoisted and swung across Howden's horse in
front of the Chief, and the man-hunters proceeded homeward at a
canter.
"How did you get over from the Landing?" asked Jim of McConnachie.
"Oh,--we got there in good time and didn't meet a darned thing all the
way. We got to Allison's wharf. The old man's launch was there, tied
up for the night. But there was another one alongside of it. We were
just comin' back to have a look about, when him and two more came bang
into us from over the hill. We jumped to our nags, and they turned and
beat it back. God knows where the other two got to. They looked like
breeds to me. We made after him because he had full saddlebags and
looked like the head-boss man.
"But that she-devil of a horse,--it left us a mile behind. We hadn't
the ghost of an idea he was anyways near when we hit your bunch.
"But where in the name of Pete the darn-fool idiot was making for,
gets my goat. Who would make for Kelowna when there's miles of ranges
to roam in?"
"Aw!--get off your foot!" exclaimed the knowing Howden. "He meant to
get that launch at the Landing first of all and make for his ranch at
Redmans, or maybe for Penticton and down over the Line. When you guys
fooled him, he came up over here, meaning to beat it back Vernock way,
down Kickwillie Loop, I guess, on to the shore road at the head of the
Lake and out the Coldcreek to the foot-hills, and over to the Other
Side that way.
"If he had ever gotten a head start, we'd never have seen skin or hair
of him."
"But why didn't he? Wasn't you ginks chasin' him to Kelowna?"
"Sure!--but weren't we between him and the road he wanted to get
onto,--simp?"
McConnachie let the sense of it sink, but it seemed to take a long
time.
When the procession reached the awakening town he remarked, "I see
now! You guys blocked him same as we did at the Landing."
"Just exactly!" remarked Jim. "We all saw it two hours ago." As for
Howden, he was past remarking anything.
The news of the robbery, of the escape of all but one, and of the
dead-capture--and the climax in regard to the identity of that dead
robber--caused a tremendous sensation throughout the Valley. It was
the talk of the entire country for very many days to follow. A number
of respectable citizens, of course, were shocked beyond words; others
shook their heads and said it was just what they had expected. But the
great fact remained:--Graham Brenchfield, several times Mayor of
Vernock, Rancher, Cattle breeder, Wholesale Produce Dealer and
Political Boss had been caught red-handed in the biggest bank robbery
the Province had ever known.