THE CAPTURE OF THE THIEF.
As Toby Sam stole on, congratulating himself on his clever theft, he
tripped suddenly over what seemed to be a grapevine in the path.
The supposed grapevine was a lariat, as he knew when a man sprang
on him, caught him by the throat, jammed his head back against the
ground, and commanded him to keep silent on pain of having his throat
cut. The fingers of the man were like iron in their hold, and the
command was made in a hoarse whisper.
The place was a mile or less from the cave, and the capture was made
at a time when Toby Sam felt absolutely sure of getting away with the
emeralds.
The cowardly rascal coughed and gurgled, and then lay back, quiet,
staring-eyed, and weak from fear. Then he saw that this man had
comrades, two of them, at least, who came up one on each side, and
they looked at the prisoner.
“Got him, eh?” There was a chuckle. “Waugh! He’s thet pesky sneak,
Toby Sam!”
It was Nick Nomad who spoke. Toby Sam recognized that, and knew he
had fallen into the hands of Buffalo Bill’s party, which was as bad
as, or worse, than falling into the hands of Black John.
“Speak above a whisper, and you’re a dead man!”
The fingers relaxed as the threat was made; and Toby Sam, clutching
his aching throat, stared again at the men who had captured him.
“Search him, Gordon!”
Pawnee Bill “went through” the pockets of Toby Sam. “Ah!” he said, in
a tone of surprise. “What’s this?” He had found the bag of emeralds.
Buffalo Bill’s last remaining wax match illuminated the contents of
the bag, showing the nature of the find.
Then they began to question Toby Sam.
He tried to lie, at first; but the cold muzzle of Buffalo Bill’s
revolver, thrust into his face, convinced him of the wisdom of
telling the truth. Then he admitted the theft of the emeralds from
Black John, and told where Black John was hiding with his prisoner.
“Hear that, Bruce?” said Buffalo Bill.
Another man--a young man--had crept forward, and was listening. He
was shaking with excitement.
“You must lead us to the place,” he said. “Is she well, and unharmed?”
“I--I think she is; she was in there, and he was talkin’ with her,
and was cussin’ her, when I came away.”
“Tell us just where this little cave is,” Buffalo Bill commanded.
Toby Sam told as well as he could.
“You’ll show us the way now. Bruce, hand me those cords! We’ll tie
his hands, and if he starts to run we’ll shoot him.”
“I--I won’t run!” Toby Sam promised, his teeth chattering.
His hands were tied by Buffalo Bill and Clayton.
“Now lead on,” said Buffalo Bill; “and, remember, if you make any
noise, or try to warn Black John, we’ll shoot you.”
Notwithstanding that they had captured Toby Sam and had him for a
guide, Buffalo Bill and his pards did not go far.
The way was stony and rough, and they feared they could not get near
the cave without attracting Black John’s attention. Because of the
darkness Black John’s chances of getting out of the cave and away
were considerable, if he became alarmed and tried to escape. While,
if he fancied himself undiscovered and still safe, he would remain in
the cave, and could be captured in the morning.
They discussed this phase of the matter, and lay down with their
prisoner on the slope of the hill, when still some distance from the
cave.
Before that they had heard a scream from the girl, which had rendered
Clayton so frantic that Buffalo Bill’s utmost persuasions were needed
to keep him from making a blind rush through the darkness. Had he
done so he would have been shot, of course, by Black John, and
perhaps the efforts of his friends would have been balked.
The hours that followed held nothing but mental torture for him. Nor
were the scouts and his pards much less concerned for the security of
the girl. They divined the situation: that the loss of the emeralds
had been discovered, and that Black John was, as a consequence, in an
unamiable and dangerous mood.
Black John, supposed to be keeping watch by the cave, was as silent
as the men lying farther down on the bowldered slope. If he moved,
or spoke, they had no knowledge of it; and the girl made no sound,
after that scream which had reached them.
Bruce Clayton tormented himself with fears that she was dead--had
been killed by Black John; or that Black John was even then out of
the cave, and far on his way to some other point, and that Cody and
his companions were guarding what was no better than an empty bird’s
nest.
The morning came, after what seemed an interminable night; but the
faint light of the early morning did not reveal Black John; and
Bruce’s feverish fears intensified. But Buffalo Bill was not ready
yet to make a move.
Only by combined luck and good work had he and his pards been able
to follow Black John’s trail to the point where they had captured
Toby Sam; and, after all that work, the scout was not willing to
jeopardize anything by a premature movement.
Then something was seen to move on the slope.
It was Black John, rising from another night of watching.
Still Buffalo Bill and his pards maintained silence, waiting for the
light to get better.
It was seen that Black John contemplated flight. He brought the girl
out of the cave, tottering as she was with weakness; and they heard
his harsh words to her.
“Let me shoot him, the scoundrel!” begged Clayton. “I can’t stand it
any longer.”
Instead, Buffalo Bill lifted his voice. “Hello, there!” he called.
Black John wheeled as if on a pivot. He looked about, and saw no one.
“We’ve got you covered with our revolvers,” were the next words he
heard. “If you don’t throw up your hands and surrender, down you go.”
Black John did not surrender; he gave a jump for the cave, pulling
the girl backward by the hair, so that she fell in the very entrance,
and was pulled in by him, out of sight.