CHAPTER XIV
THE OUTLAW PLOT
Slowly, carefully, hardly venturing to breathe, he backed away from thecabin. He got outside the zone of light and felt for his motorcycle.With the utmost caution not to touch the horn or siren, he guided it ina wide semicircle down the slope. One of the horses whinnied as hepassed and an outlaw appeared at the door. After listening for a moment,while Bert stood like a stone image in his track, the man, evidentlysatisfied, turned and went inside.
Then Bert moved on again by inches until he reached the edge of thewoods. From there he knew that the faint click made by the valves instarting could not possibly be heard from above. He drew a long breathand for the first time turned his gaze toward the sky. He was rejoicedto find that the clouds had vanished and that the deep blue was sownwith stars. He needed no compass now. There was the gleaming Polar Starby which he had often guided his course as unerringly as by the sun. Hepaused a moment to get a direction due west. Then he leaped into thesaddle and was off.
Not until he was sure that he was beyond the sight of any possiblewatcher from the cabin, did he dismount and light his lamp. Then withthe confidence that came from the light streaming far ahead of him, hethrew in the clutch and let his machine out to the limit.
He had ridden perhaps twenty miles, looking anxiously about for thelights of a town, when at some distance he saw the flames from acampfire in the lee of a bluff far away to his right. He could see agroup of men, some moving about, others stretched out near the fireapparently asleep. Mindful of his previous experience, he put out hislight and glided toward them like a shrouded ghost.
Stopping outside the circle of light, where he could study the scene athis leisure, he counted a dozen men. They were strapping fellows, roughin dress and appearance, but with honest, fearless faces. One of themwore a badge that stamped him as an official of some kind, and he wasevidently in command of the party. Bert hesitated no longer, but,mounting, rode slowly into the firelight.
There was a gasp of wonder at his appearance, and the men who were stillawake sprang to their feet with their hands on their pistol butts. Asecond glance, however, as Bert waved his hand in friendly fashion,disarmed them and they came hastily forward.
"Well, stranger," said the man with the badge, "you came in on us rathersudden like and we was plumb surprised for a minute. You seem to be allright though, and that machine of yours is certainly some beaut. We'remore used to riding four-legged things, though. We don't ask anythingabout a man's business out here unless we happen to have some particularbusiness with him," and he touched his star. "So you can tell us nothingor as much as you like. As to me I ain't got any secrets as to whom Iam. I'm the sheriff of Wentworth County and this here is my posse."
"Just the man I'd rather see at this minute than any one else in theworld," exclaimed Bert, delightedly. And then, in words that tumbledover one another in their haste, he told them who he was, how he hadbeen lost on the prairie and of his adventure near the cabin of "Billythe Kid."
At the mention of that notorious name the sheriff fairly jumped. "What!"he shouted. "Billy the Kid and his gang? They're the fellows we're outfor now. Here, boys," he yelled, "get busy. We're on a fresh trail andwe'll bag the hull bunch before daylight."
Instantly the camp was alive with excitement. Horses were untethered andsaddled, and within five minutes the posse was ready to start. Bert hadgiven hurriedly the details of the plot and the sheriff's campaign wasquickly planned. He knew every foot of the surrounding country and heheaded his troop straight as the crow flies for Dorsey, the little town,beyond which lay the tank where the Limited would slow down to takewater. His line of march was shorter than that of the outlaws, andbesides, they had not planned to leave the cabin before midnight.He could count on getting there first and having time to make hisdispositions for the round-up of the gang.
"Well, son," he said, with a warm grip of the hand, when they were readyto start, "I sure owe you a lot for this tip. This country's going tosleep a heap sight better when they know these fellows have dangled fromthe end of a rope. But how about you, now? I'll send one of my men alongwith you to Lonsdale, if you like. That's fifteen mile west of here andon the line of road you're traveling."
"No, thanks," replied Bert promptly, "I'm going with you, if you'll haveme."
"Going with us," echoed the sheriff in surprise. "Of course, I'm glad tohave you. But that gang is 'bad medicine' and there's goin' to be someshooting. You ain't got no call to mix in, 'cept of your own free will."
"Sure, I know," said Bert. "I'm going along."
"Son," exclaimed the sheriff, extending his hand, "put her thar. I'mproud to know you. You're the real stuff, all wool and a yard wide. Comealong."
A word of command and they clattered off, Bert keeping alongside of theleader. He was thrilling with excitement. The primitive emotions had himin their grip. A little while before, he had been in the conventionalworld of law and order and civilization. Now, he was seeing life "in theraw." A battle was imminent, and here he was riding to the battlefieldover the prairies at midnight under the silent stars. The blood coursedviolently through his veins and his heart beat high with passion for thefight. That he himself was running the risk of wounding and death wasonly an added stimulus. For the moment he was a "cave man," like hisancestors in the morning of the world, stealing forth from their lairfor a raid against their enemies. Later on, when cooler, he wouldanalyze and wonder at these emotions. But now, he yielded to them, andthe time seemed long before the little cavalcade swept through thesleeping town of Dorsey, and then, at a more slow and careful pace, madetheir way to the water tank below the station.
As they came nearer, they dismounted and led their horses to a clump oftrees on the eastern side of the tank and a half a mile away. Two menwere left in charge, with orders to strap the horses' jaws together, sothat they could not neigh and thus betray their masters. It was figuredthat the outlaws would approach from the west, and the members of theposse disposed themselves in a wide semicircle, so that, at a givensignal, they could surround and overpower the robbers. If possible, theywere to capture them alive so that they could answer to justice fortheir crimes. But, alive or dead, they were to "get" them. And as Bertlooked on the stern, determined faces of his companions, he had no doubtof the outcome of the struggle.
After they had taken their places, lying flat on the ground with suchshelter as a bush or cactus plant afforded, there was a considerablewait that was more trying to the nerves than actual fighting. Bert andthe sheriff were close together, but, except for an occasional whisper,neither spoke. They were busy with their thoughts and intent on theapproaching fray.
Perhaps an hour had elapsed before they heard the distant tramp ofhorses. Soon they could see half a dozen men approaching, their figuresdimly outlined in the starlight. The grip of the watchers tightened ontheir pistol butts as they strained their eyes to get a better view oftheir quarry.
Then silence fell again. A half hour went by. Suddenly a faint whistlewas heard in the distance, the ground began to tremble and a greatheadlight swung into view, far up the track. It was the road's cracktrain, the Overland Limited. The moment was at hand.
With a terrific rumbling and clanking and ringing of bells, theponderous train slowed down at the tank. The fireman was already on thetender, ready to slew over the pipe that would bring a cataract ofwater down into the reservoir. Just as he reached for it, there was afusillade of shots. Two masked men covered the startled engineer andfireman with their revolvers and ordered them to hold up their hands.Another hammered at the door of the express car and commanded themessenger to open, on pain of instant death. Farther down the trainother shots rang out and windows were shattered by bullets to warnpassengers to stay inside.
But just then came a diversion. With a yell and a rush the sheriff andhis men swept down upon the astonished outlaws, firing as they came. Thebandits were caught like rats in a trap. They were the center of a ringof flame, but they fought back savagely. There wer
e cries and curses, asmen emptied their revolvers and then clinched in deadly struggle. Thebandit leader, leaving the express car, plunged headlong into the fight,battling like a fiend. When his revolver was empty he flung it into thesheriff's face and made a break for his horse. But Bert was too quickfor him, and tackled him, just as he had put one foot in the stirrupand was swinging the other over his mount. With a mighty wrench hedragged him from the saddle. The "Kid" uttered a fearful oath andreached for his knife. Bert's hands closed around his throat and theywent to the ground rolling over and over like two panthers.
At gun or knife play the outlaw would have been the victor. But in thishand-to-hand struggle, Bert was easily his master. His tremendousstrength, reinforced by clean living and athletic training, soontriumphed over the rum-soaked body of the "Kid." But the latter'sferocity was appalling, and Bert had to choke him almost intounconsciousness, before his muscles relaxed and he lay there limp andgasping.
As Bert rose, breathless but victorious, he saw that the fight was over.Two of the outlaws were dead and another fatally wounded. The other twowere in the hands of their captors, and the sheriff coming up, snappedhandcuffs on the "Kid" and jerked him to his feet.
Passengers and trainmen came pouring from the cars, and there was aBabel of excited questionings. The conductor, full of relief andgratitude at his train's escape from looting, offered to carry the partyto the next town on the line. But the sheriff elected to take hisprisoners across country to the county seat, and after another exchangeof congratulations, the train moved on.
Then the triumphant posse, with one of its members severely, anotherslightly wounded, took up their homeward trip. They had made one of themost important captures in the history of the State, and the next daythe country would be ringing with their praises. They were naturallyjubilant, and the sheriff urged Bert earnestly to come with them as thereal hero of the roundup. But he stoutly refused and the only favor hewould accept was the loan of a guide to take him over to Lonsdale.
"Well," said the sheriff at last reluctantly, "I suppose you know yourown business best, but I shore am sorry to say good-bye. You've made anawful hit with me, son. That was a lovely scrap you put up with the'Kid,' and I've never seen a prettier bit of rough housing. I hope youwin your race and I believe you will. Anybody that can put one over on'Billy the Kid' can pretty near get anything he goes after. If everyou're looking for work," he joked, "come out to Wentworth County andI'll make you assistant sheriff. Perhaps, though, you'd better not," andhis eyes twinkled, "cause it wouldn't be long before you'd have myjob."
Bert Wilson's Twin Cylinder Racer Page 14
