THE PURSUIT
Just as Mr. Campbell and the boys reached the front of the shack in
which they had spent the night, they saw, stopping in the road a short
distance away, an automobile of the flivver type—old, ramshackle, rusty
and covered with mud.
From this battered car leaped several men, each one bearing a gun, and
it took no more than a second glance to reveal to Rick and the others
that these were not Martin, Elkton and Shadd, the self-styled
“lumbermen.”
Ruddy stopped, stiffened into attention and began to growl in a menacing
manner.
“Quiet, Ruddy,” sharply ordered his master and the dog obeyed.
The men ran forward, with guns held in readiness, but before they could
shoot, if, indeed, such was their intention, and before anything could
be said, another car followed the first and stopped suddenly.
From this second car leaped three men who seemed anxious to overtake the
first party, numbering five, who were advancing on Mr. Campbell and the
boys.
“Now we’ve got you!” cried the leader of the first party, as he began
lowering his gun in readiness for action. “Up with your hands!”
“Why, what in the world—” began Mr. Campbell. He said afterward he
thought it was all a joke, and Rick was beginning to wonder if this had
anything to do with the mystery of Uncle Tod, when the second party of
three men overtook the first five, and the evident leader of this trio
shouted:
“Wait a minute, Bert! You’re making a mistake!”
“A mistake?” inquired the man who had ordered “hands up.”
“Yes, this is the wrong crowd—can’t you see that. Two of ’em are boys
and there’s a dog!”
“I see the boys and dog all right,” grumbled the one who had given the
startling order, “but they may belong to the same bunch all right.”
“I’m afraid not,” said the other. “Looks like they got away—give us the
slip. Your name Cassidy?” he asked sharply of Mr. Campbell.
“No, it isn’t,” was the quiet answer. “But what’s this all about,
anyhow? And where can we get in touch with the police or some one in
authority?”
“What for? Have you captured the robbers?” asked one of the raiding
party eagerly.
“Robbers?” exclaimed Rick and Chot who were taking all this in with
wondering eyes.
“As far as robberies go we have one to report ourselves,” said Mr.
Campbell. “My auto was taken, during the night, by three men who were in
this shack.”
“And those are the very men we’re after!” exclaimed the leader of the
last-arriving trio. “Where are they? Which way did they go? If they have
your car, and it can travel, we may have hard work catching up to them.”
“I’m afraid you will,” said Mr. Campbell, grimly. “But where can I
report the theft of my car? Where will I find an officer?”
“Right here,” answered the leader of the five men with a chuckle. “We’re
all officers. That’s Nick Wilson, a deputy sheriff,” he added,
indicating the big man who had arrived in the car with two others. “I’m
a court-house constable and these others are special deputies we just
swore in to help capture the bank robbers.”
“Bank robbers?” exclaimed Mr. Campbell. “Were Martin, Elkton and Shadd
robbers?”
“They were, and desperate ones, too, only those aren’t their names,”
said Deputy Sheriff Wilson. “I guess they go by any names that suit ’em,
but one of ’em is Cassidy, and the other two are Burke and Armstrong.
They robbed the Frenchtown bank of over fifty thousand dollars last
week, and they have been traced to this locality.
“Early this morning we got word that three men, answering the
description of the bank robbers, were out here in this shack. I rounded
up all the men I could find. Dodge, here, got a little ahead of me,”
said the deputy sheriff with a grin, “but as soon as I saw the two boys
I knew we were barking up the wrong tree. And so the robbers took your
car and got away; did they?”
“It looks so,” admitted Mr. Campbell ruefully.
“Too bad,” said Nick Wilson. “If you could only have held those fellows
you’d have been in the reward of ten thousand dollars.”
Rick and Chot gasped at this.
“No use thinking about that now,” said Mr. Campbell philosophically.
“I’ll be satisfied if I can get my car back, and the stuff in
it—including the baggage of these boys. I’m on my way to San Francisco,
and Rick and Chot—not to forget Ruddy—are going out to their Uncle Tod.”
“He isn’t my uncle,” said Chot.
“Well, it’s all the same,” explained Mr. Campbell with a smile. And
then, briefly, he told the officers of how they were caught in the storm
at the broken bridge, and how they had happened to stop at the lonely
cabin.
In turn the deputy sheriff related the story of the daring bank robbery.
The three men, presumably having most of the money with them, had come
to this hunters’ cabin to hide. They had, doubtless, seen their
opportunity to escape in an auto when Mr. Campbell and the boys drove up
in their car.
Welcoming the travelers and making them feel at home had lulled our
friends’ suspicions and during the night the robbers had quietly slipped
out and departed in the Campbell car with their booty.
“And to think we just snoozed and let them get away!” cried Rick.
“Isn’t it tough!” bewailed Chot.
“Well, maybe it isn’t too late yet!” eagerly suggested Bert Dodge, the
court-house constable. “Let’s take after ’em!”
“I guess we’d better,” assented the deputy. “We’ll try to get your car
back,” he added to Mr. Campbell. “You can come along with me if you want
to,” he added. “Guess I can make room for you.”
“What about the boys?” asked Mr. Campbell.
Nick Wilson tilted back his hat from his grizzled hair and scratched his
head.
“It’s going to be a pretty tight fit,” he admitted as he looked at the
battered and muddy car of the constable, and at his own not much better
and no larger auto. “Yes, it’ll be a pretty tight fit, to say nothing of
the dog.”
“I can’t leave Ruddy!” exclaimed Rick.
“I’d like to go with the officers,” remarked Mr. Campbell. “I can then
identify my car if we find it. But, even if there were room, I’d rather
you boys wouldn’t come. There may be shooting—”
“There will be if we get within distance!” declared Mr. Dodge, grimly.
“If you boys wouldn’t mind waiting here,” suggested Mr. Campbell, “it
would be better, maybe. I know it’s rather hard luck,” he added with a
smile, as he saw the rueful look on Chot’s face, “but it’s what I think
your folks would want, and I’m responsible for you.”
“Oh, we’ll stay,” offered Rick cheerfully. “I wouldn’t go, anywhere, and
leave Ruddy behind.”
“Tell you what,” broke in Mr. Wilson, “you boys go back to town and wait
for me at my office. You can tell the sheriff how things turned out, and
that will save us time telephoning, ’specially as there isn’t a line
around here. Go back to my office in the court-house and wait. Here,
I’ll give you a note to show it’s all right.”
He scribbled something on the back of an envelope and passed it to Rick.
Meanwhile the special deputies were quickly scrambling into the autos,
Mr. Campbell being invited to ride with Nick Wilson and his two helpers,
while Bert and his four filled the muddy, ramshackle, rusty flivver that
he owned.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can, boys,” called Mr. Campbell to Rick and
Chot. “We couldn’t go on, anyhow, until I get my car again.”
“Oh, that’s all right,” Rick assured him. “We’ll wait in town for you.
How far back is it?” he asked the deputy sheriff.
“’Bout three miles.”
“That isn’t far,” admitted Chot.
“And when you get hungry go to my house and tell my wife I sent you,”
went on the deputy. “She’ll give you a good meal!”
That sounded very encouraging to the boys who had not had anything very
substantial since dinner the day before.
Rick, Chot and Ruddy stood in the road in front of the shack, and
watched the officers start in pursuit of the robbers. How much the two
lads wished they could have had a part in the man-hunt, only you boys
can imagine. But it would not have been wise.
“I hope they get ’em,” murmured Chot, as the two rattling cars vanished
around a turn in the highway.
“So do I,” echoed Rick. “If they do, maybe Mr. Campbell will get part of
the reward.”
“How?”
“Well, the robbers took his car and he gave information about them. He
ought to get part of the reward.”
“That’s right. I hope he does. Well, let’s go on to town. What’s the
name of the place, anyhow? It can’t be Elmwood, for we were heading for
that when we got to the broken bridge.”
“No, it’s Fayetville I heard one of the men say. Well, I hope this Mrs.
Wilson is a good cook,” and Rick sighed.
“Will you go to her house for a meal?”
“Sure! Why not? Didn’t Mr. Wilson tell us to? And it will be better than
going to a restaurant. We can wash up and comb our hair. I feel like a
tramp.”
“So do I. Yet, I guess it will be better to go to her house. I’m
hungry.”
“So’m I. Well, come on.”
The boys and the dog started down the road, while the two flivvers,
filled with eager officers, kept on in pursuit of the criminals, pausing
now and then at some lonely farm house to ask if the Campbell car had
passed.