Jim Cummings; Or, The Great Adams Express Robbery

by A. Frank Pinkerton

  CHAPTER XI.

  A MIDNIGHT FLIGHT.

  THE two detectives were in a tight fix. One of them sorely wounded; theother, handicapped by his almost helpless comrade, would stand smallchance against the burly man who checked their path. But Sam, who wasnearly as large in build as was his opponent, and in an even fight,would not have hesitated to bear down upon him, slipped his arm fromaround Chip, and prepared himself for a desperate struggle.

  As his arm passed his side pocket, he felt his revolver. Keeping Chipbefore him, he slipped his hand onto it, and drew it out, Chip keepingCummings from observing the movements. The scent of approaching dangerhad acted on Chip as a strong restorative, and his eyes met those ofhis late captor unflinchingly as he cried:

  "We know you now, Jim Cummings; you've betrayed yourself," and Chipagain looked at the triangular gold which his parted lips disclosed onone of his teeth.

  Up to this moment the desperado had imagined himself to be unknown, butat the words Chip uttered, he started, and with eyes burning with rage,and features twitching with fury, he turned to Nance, who, still underthe spell of complete terror, was huddled in a corner, her hands overher face, not daring to meet the outlaw's eye.

  "Ah," he hissed, "you did this," and like a flash his revolver coveredher, and the whip-like report rang out. The answering voice of Sam'spistol echoed the first, and when the smoke had lifted, Cummings haddisappeared.

  Without stopping to look after the hag, Sam lifted Chip in his arms,and hastily descended the stairs, It was dark when the alley wasreached, and slowly walking to the corner, a hack was called and thetwo friends drove rapidly towards Sam's boarding-place.

  Stopping but just a second to tuck his friend in bed, Sam hastened tothe Central Police Station and, in a few words, placed the case beforethe chief. The sergeant in charge at the time detailed five men toreturn with the detective. The house was entered and searched frombasement to garret, but the birds had flown. The worn condition of thesteps leading to the roof attracted Sam's attention, and furtherinvestigation disclosed the fact that this scuttle-way was the means ofexit. Sam thus ascertained why his long, weary watch had been fruitless.

  After Cummings fired at the fortune-teller he turned quickly and ran upthe steps to the roof of the house and so escaped through the vacantdwelling which faced the street. Believing that the old woman hadeither betrayed him or had been frightened into giving the desiredinformation he decided to "vamoose the ranch" and that quickly.Moriarity must trust to his own good luck, for time was pressing and tosave himself he must take an immediate departure.

  A thousand schemes passed through his head and a hundred disguisespresented themselves to him as he hurried toward his room. Side streetsand back alleys were taken and more than once he doubled on his trackto ascertain if he was followed. Satisfied that, as yet, no one was onhis track, Cummings allowed his fears to vanish. He was still safe andif he could only reach his "den" in safety he could lay low until thefirst wind had blown over. He knew that in a short time the whole citywould be scoured for the noted Jim Cummings, and he laughed derisivelyas he thought of the open manner he had moved in the town since therobbery. No disguise had been attempted, no great secrecy and if it hadnot been for the unfortunate affair of the cooper-shop, he might havelived there for years without any suspicions being directed toward him.Although he had moved so openly and boldly he had kept to himself, noteven telling Moriarity the location of his residence. To this place henow hurried. It was a large room in a first-class boarding-house whoselandlady and boarders would have been horror-stricken had they knownthat "Mr. Williams," the jolly, good-natured young fellow who hadproved such a valuable acquisition to their after-dinner gatherings,was the desperate free-booter who had walked away with the valuableexpress package.

  Cummings was no ordinary robber. Endowed by nature with cool nerves, anactive brain and athletic frame, he had all the requirements necessaryto make a successful and daring criminal. That he was so the precedingpages have testified. Now that he was threatened with discovery, he didnot rush blindly into danger by attempting to flee from it, but he didthe exact opposite.

  He knew that every train would be watched, that telegrams would stretchout in all directions, and the detectives, now on a hot scent, wouldcrowd him night and day. All these thoughts passed through his mind, ashe leaned back in a comfortable chair and puffed his Havana. And hedecided it would be best to remain closely to his room until the hueand cry had subsided, and play invalid.

  For a week he stirred not from the house. And then thinking the firstheat had passed, he commenced strolling out after dark.

  One evening, having lighted a cigar, he was walking leisurely up theavenue, all fears of discovery set at rest by his fancied security,when his dream was rudely disturbed by a hand placed lightly on hisshoulder. Quick as a panther, he sprang to one side, placing himself onthe defensive, and his hand upon his pistol ready for any emergency.His startled gaze met a pitiful sight. Ragged and tattered, his hands,trembling and face blanched with the first touch of delirium tremens,stood Oscar Cook. Tottering up to Cummings, he whispered in tremuloustones:

  "Jim, they're after me. They most nabbed me. Save me, Jim, save me!"

  Alarmed lest the poor wretch would attract attention, Cummings placedhis arm around him, and half-carrying, half-dragging him, bore him tohis room. Slipping the latch of the door, he turned up the gas.

  Cook sank into a chair, his elbows on his knees and his face buried inhis hands. Every muscle was twitching, his eyes, staring stonily ahead,were bloodshot and fevered. Horror was printed on his face, and hisfingers, curved like bird's claws, moved spasmodically over his head.

  "They're after me, Jim, they're after me," he repeated, again and again.

  Greatly disturbed by the sudden appearance of the wretched Cook,Cummings hardly knew how to meet the emergency. If he kept Cook withhim, the tremens would come on, and in the delirium of the frenzy Cookwould probably say something which would betray Cummings. On the otherhand, if he left the house to place Cook in some safe quarters, hecourted detection.

  He was in a tight box, and this, with the events which had justoccurred and his close call of the week previous, made him somewhatnervous. As he looked at the miserable wretch before him he saw that hewore the high-heeled boots and spurs of the cowboys, who make KansasCity a rendezvous. In an instant his course was plain and he proceededto execute it.

  Handing Cook a large glass full of brandy, he bade him drink it. Thehalf-crazed man needed no urging, but clutching the glass he drank itdown greedily. Its effect was almost instantaneous. His face lost thehorrible expression, his fingers straightened out, and the tremblingceased. Cummings watched him closely, and knowing that the liquor wouldonly sustain him for a short time, he said:

  "Cook, where's your horse?"

  "Down at the livery stable on the next block."

  "Can you get me one at the same place?"

  "Yes, a good one, too."

  "We must get out of here. The place is too hot for us. All the trainsare watched, so we must leave a-horseback. Go get your horse, hire onefor me, and we'll vamoose at once."

  Cook started up with alacrity, for as long as the brandy was potent thetremens would not effect him.

  Cummings hastily changed his apparel, putting on a pair of high bootsand over them the fringed leather chapparels. A wide sombrero replacedthe derby hat, and when fully costumed he had on the business rig of atypical cow-boy.

  He had hardly completed these arrangements when the noise ofhorse-hoofs on the pavement was heard. Opening the shutter Cummingswaved his hand, and placing his revolver in the holster ran down thesteps.

  He had written a note to his landlady saying that pressing business ofthe most urgent kind had suddenly called him out of town, and it wasuncertain when he could return. This he left on the table and thelandlady saw him no more.

  The horses were fresh, and striking into a canter the two men made forthe open country. The excitement and motion co
mbined with the bracingair drove the fumes of the liquor from Cook's head, and before manymiles had been passed he was comparatively free from the terriblemalady which threatened to consume him.

  The suburbs were passed, and under the clear sky and bright stars, thewilling horses spurned the frozen mud from beneath their feet as theyflew, neck and neck, down the road. Neither men had spoken a word sincethe start, but sitting low in the saddle, gave the horses loose reinsnor checked them an instant.

  They had left the road and were speeding over the frozen prairie,skirting a small clump of scrub oak, when just before them, a solitaryhorseman could be seen, leisurely walking his steed. At the suddenappearance of the stranger, both men instinctively reined in theirhorses and pulled up short. The man at that moment, heard them, andgiving a hasty look backward, drove his spurs into his horse, dashedforward at full speed.

  In sheer deviltry, Cummings did likewise, followed by Cook, and gavechase to the flying horseman. It was nearly dawn. The gray light wasbrightening the landscape, and, observing his game more closely,Cummings saw something familiar in his form; and when he glanced overhis shoulder to see his pursuers, the heavy mustache could be seen,even in that uncertain light.

  Placing his fingers to his lips, Jim gave three whistles, two short andone long sounds. The shrill tones reached the stranger, who turned halfaround in his saddle and saw Cummings waving his hat. Checking hisspeed somewhat he allowed the distance between them to become less, butholding his horse well in hand, if any signs of treachery were observedhe could have some chance of escaping.

  As the two men swept toward him they cried as in one voice:

  "Moriarity!"

  Moriarity, for such it was, immediately drew up his horse and the threefriends were soon shaking hands.

  "The fly-cops made it too hot for me, boys," said Dan. "I came withinan ace of being caught. One of the beaks had his hands on me, but Iknocked him down and lit out."

  "Where are you bound for now?" asked Cummings.

  "Down to Swanson's ranche."

  "We were heading the same way," said Cummings.

  Swanson's ranche, situated in the northeastern part of the IndianTerritory, near Coulby's Bluff, was about one hundred and fifty milessouth of Kansas City. The rolling prairie which stretched between wasinterspersed with ranches, and an occasional small town, but for thegreater part was wild and uninhabited.

  Swanson, an Americanized Norwegian, had married a Cherokee squaw, whichenabled him to locate in the Indian country. His reputation was none ofthe best, but his unscrupulous character and well-known skill with theWinchester caused him to be feared, and an officer of the law wouldthink twice before making any attempts to disturb him. It was at thisplace that the three fugitives were seeking refuge.

  The sun had risen, and it was broad day when Cummings, who naturallytook the lead, commanded a halt.

  A clump of cotton-wood trees on the verge of a small, shallow creekoffered a good camping ground.

  Hobbling their horses, after taking the saddles from them, they allowedthem to graze at will, and the party busied themselves in collectingwood for a fire.

  A few sheep which had escaped from some ranch were grazing near thespot, and Moriarity, who had his Winchester, dropped one by awell-directed ball back of the shoulder.

  The warm fleece was taken from the still quivering body, and theappetizing smell of mutton steaks reminded the hungry men that thebreakfast hour had long since passed. The meal over, nature assertedher claims, and the thoroughly tired-out travelers wrapped themselvesin their blankets and fell asleep.

  They were not disturbed, for the trail which they had taken was seldomtraveled over, and it was late in the afternoon when they were oncemore on their way.

  The trail led over the beds of dried-up streams, and skirted thenumerous patches of scrub oak and cotton-wood trees which werescattered all over the prairie. The long prairie grass sometimesbrushed the feet of the horsemen, and coveys of prairie chickens flewup and scurried away as the three outlaws galloped past. Mile aftermile was left behind, the tough Indian ponies they bestrode keeping thetireless lope for which they are noted without slacking the pace orbecoming exhausted. The three riders were expert horsemen, and had beenaccustomed to the saddle almost from infancy.

  Little was said and few words spoken by the men as they skimmed overthe prairie save to call attention to some obstacle in the way, or tosome change in the trail, which stretched before them plain anddistinct.

  The few Indians and half-breeds they met paid no attention to them,thinking them to be cowboys bound for their camp, and in fact they didresemble those hardy specimens of plainsmen who range this countryherding cattle or sheep.

  When the chill of the night had set in, Cummings ordered a second halt,and the horses, hobbled, commenced to graze on the short buffalo-grasswhich spread underfoot. The remainder of the carcass of mutton whichMoriarity had shot had been strapped back of his saddle, and was nowcut up into suitable sizes for the fire which Cook had built. The meat,laid on the glowing embers, was soon cooked and, their hunger appeased,the men, wrapped in their blankets, their feet to the fire, composedthemselves for slumber.

  The long hours of the night passed on, the fire had died out, whenCummings, awakened by a sudden feeling of chilliness, rose to his feetand piled some twigs and branches together to make a blaze. As hestooped to the ground the faint, far-off beats of horses' hoofs reachedhis quick ear.

  "Dan! Cook! Wake up! Get up lively!" he cried, as he made a dash forhis saddle and threw it on his horse. "They are after us."

  The camp was instantly in commotion, the saddles thrown over the horsesand tightened with ready and experienced hands, and vaulting into thesaddles the three men rode out into the bright moonlight as a companyof ten men, armed to the teeth, swept like a whirlwind around the edgeof the timber.

  A yell reached the ears of the three fugitives as they galloped out onthe prairie and a voice, clear and commanding, rang out in tonesfamiliar to Moriarity, who had heard them in the cooper-shop when thetramp commanded him to hold out his hands.

  "There they are lads. Forward!"

  Uttering a deep round oath Dan turned in his saddle, giving the horsethe head, and leveling his rifle fired point-blank at the pursuingparty.

  A cry of derision greeted the shot, and Cummings, saying "Hold yourshots, you fool," drove his spurs cruelly into the horse's flanks and,followed closely by his companions, dashed down the trail towardSwanson's ranche.