CHAPTER XII.
THE PURSUIT.
Chip and Sam were not the only Pinkerton men in Kansas City at thistime engaged on the Adams Express robbery case, for from the time Cookawoke from the drunken stupor in which Cummings and Moriarity found himat the cooper-shop on the night when Chip was captured he had beenshadowed constantly by Barney, who with Chip had found the letter headsin Fotheringham's trunk.
Day and night had Barney followed him, and he was but a short distancebehind when Cummings took Cook on the verge of the delirium tremens tohis room.
When Cook came back with the horses and with Cummings rode away, Barneyhastened to Chip, who, fully recovered from the terrible blow on thehead, had again assumed his duties, and reported the fact to him.
Sam, who was on the lookout for Moriarity, was notified at once, andthe three detectives, laying the matter before the chief of police,were furnished with seven mounted men armed to the teeth, and all ofthem old Texas rangers.
This formidable troop had left the city scarcely an hour after therobbers had started. The direction they took and the nature of thecountry pointed to Swanson's ranche as the point for which the outlawswere making.
All night long the posse rode, and had they not taken a wrong trail,would have caught up to the robbers at their first camp.
Retracing their path, a short halt only was made, saddle girths weretightened, the rifles closely inspected, and Chip, giving the cry of"Forward," led the company on the hot scent.
Like a good general, Chip spread his men to the right and left of thetrail, so that in moving forward a wide swath of country was swept.
The first camp which the outlaws had made was discovered by the scouton the left flank. Raising the Texan yell, the rank closed in andgathered around the spot.
One of the men, an old Indian hunter, burnt by the sun to livingbronze, and scarred by the many hand-to-hand conflicts he had had withthe red savages, leaped from his horse, his keen eyes fastened to theground, read the signs which the outlaws had left as if they wereprinted words.
Pointing to the fire and the remnants of the burnt meat and bones nearit, he said:
"They ain't more'n three hours ahead of us, and there's more than thetwo. Three fellars ate their grub here this morning."
"How do you make that out?" said Chip.
"Well, Cap'n, I've fit Ingins and herded cattle more'n twenty year, offan' on, and if there ain't been three men here not over three hour ago,I lose my reckonin'. See here, in this soft place where the sun hasmelted the ground a bit, is hoof-marks, and they belong to threedifferent horses."
"Perhaps they stole a horse?"
"Mebbe so, and mebben't so. I reckon it mebben't so. Cause why? Thefellar as walked over this patch wore boots and spurs, long rowels on'em, too. See where they cut the mud. Here is another one, a dernedsight smaller foot, and here is one that had a sharp heel. No, Cap'n,they picked up a man somewhar along the road."
To this the others who had come out with the detectives gave theirunqualified assent, and Chip cried:
"Three hours ahead is a good lead on us, boys. We must climb along."
The command was again given, and, rendered more eager and enthusiasticby the knowledge that only thirty miles was between them and theirgame, the men moved forward with a cheer.
Another short halt was made for supper and the trail was again coveredjust as the robbers had about commenced to sleep. A sharp lookout wasmaintained and the bright light of the full moon turned night into dayand made the task so much the easier.
As they rode around the edge of the timber in which Cummings and hiscompanions were secreted they had no suspicion that they had gained sorapidly on the flying renegades, so that the sudden appearance of themen for whom they were searching somewhat surprised them. Giving theirpeculiar yell they pressed forward with a great burst of speed, noteven checking the gait when the ball which Moriarity sent whistled overthem.
Instantly several rifles were leveled at the flying robbers, and hadnot Chip commanded them not to shoot it would have fared ill with JimCummings and his companions.
With the speed of the wind the horses flew down the trail, the rapidhoof beats rang out on the still night and sent the slinking coyoteshowling to their lairs. Just peering above the horizon could be seenthe dark outlines of Goody's Bluff, fifteen miles away, and if Cummingscould but reach its shadow he was safe, even from the posse which waspursuing him, for he would then be in the Indian Territory. Lookingback at his pursuers, who in a solid group were following him soclosely that he could almost distinguish their features, so bright wasthe night, he saw that their horses were not driven at the full heightof their speed, but were rather being held back. Alarmed at this hecommunicated his fears to his companions, who, one on each side, werebending forward in the saddle, urging and caressing their horses to getall there was out of them, and right gamely did the stanch animalsrespond to the touch of the spur or pat of the hand, as they beat outmile after mile behind them, the hoof-beats echoed by the flying partybehind. With starting eye-balls eagerly fixed on the dim outlines ofthe bluff, the hunted men watched it grow larger and more distinct, andhope began to revive in their breasts when a sharp "ping" of a rifle,followed by the whistle of the ball passing over their heads broke thesilence of the wordless chase.
As with one impulse, each man threw himself flat on his horse's neck,but did not for an instant relax speed or spur. Another shot followed,and Chip's voice, ringing and clear, shouted:
"If you don't halt, we'll shoot your horses."
"Shoot and be damned," said Jim Cummings, almost exultingly, as he drewhis revolver from his belt. "Two can play at that game," and drawing ahasty bead on Chip, he pulled the trigger.
Chip's horse, giving a convulsive leap to one side, staggered a little,and fell behind, but was soon in the lead again, apparently unhurt.
"Boys," shouted Cummings, "d'ye see that dry creek bed. On the otherside we're safe," The pursuing posse, hearing these words, and knowingtheir full import, gave spurs to their horses, and the distance betweenthe two parties closed up so rapidly that the three outlaws could hearthe heavy breathing of the following horses.
Their own animals began to show signs of distress, and the dry creekbed was still a long, long distance off.
Nearer and nearer crept Chip and his men, the thirteen men, pursuersand pursued, was almost in one party. Chip, who lead, and Cummings, whorode behind his comrades, were not a horse's length apart.
Slowly the gallant beast Chip bestrode pushed forward, gaining littleby little until his nose almost reached the flank of Jim's steed.
"Jim Cummings, do you surrender?" and the sharp click of a revolver washeard.
With a malignant scowl Cummings half turned in his saddle, and saying:
"No, damn me, no; not while I live," placed his revolver at the head ofChip's mount and sent the ball crashing to its brain.
Down in its tracks shot the noble steed, the dark, rich blood jettingfrom the ghastly hole, and deluging Chip with its crimson flood.
Chip, with the address of an experienced horseman, had lighted upon hisfeet, his revolver still clutched in his hand.
The sudden fall of the leading horse had caused the remainder of theparty to haul up short to avoid running horse and rider down. This leftthe road clear before him, and Chip, dropping on his knee took a longcareful sight at Cummings and fired.
A sudden swerve of Jim's horse saved him, but uttering a cry of pain,Cook's steed, struck in a vital point, stopped short, and trembling inevery limb slowly sank to the ground. Cook, taken so unexpectedly, hadshot over his horse's head, and now lay, unconscious, in the center ofthe trail, his two companions, driving the spurs deeper into the flanksof their almost exhausted animals, dashed down the banks of thedividing line and stood safe on Indian Territory.
The unconscious Cook was at once surrounded by the detectives andposse, and a generous dose of brandy poured down his throat brought himto his senses.
Chagrined be
yond measure at the escape of his man, just when he wasabout to put his hand on him, and at the loss of his horse, Chip was inno humor to allow a technical boundary line to keep him from capturinghis men, who, riding around the edge of an elevation on the prairiewere now lost to sight.
"Brodey," he said, turning to the ranger who had been the guide of theexpedition from the time it started from Kansas City, "how far is it toSwanson's ranche?"
"A matter of twenty-five miles, as the crow flies."
"How far by the trail?"
"Well, Cap'n," responded Brodey, reflectively, as he threw his kneeover the pommel of his saddle, "lemme see. The trail goes by that therebelt of timber, then jines the stage-road to Allewe, an' follows that apiece, then it shunts off to the west straight for the bluff thar,purty nearly a bee-line. Thirty mile, sure--mebbe less."
"Is that the Indian Territory 'tother side of the divide?"
"Jesso--Cherokee Nation."
"What sort of a man is this Swanson?"
"Half-buffalo, half-painter, an' other half crocodile. He's wuss than ahalf-breed Apache, an would as soon shoot a man as to drink, an'Swanson's a right powerful punisher of the whisky-jug."
"Yes! yes! I know all that, but is he cunning, shrewd, sharp, you know?"
"Got eyes like an Injun, ears like a coyote an' a nose sharp as agopher snake."
"He must be a tough combination, but I'll do it, all the same."
"Do what, Chip?" asked Sam.
"Go down to Swanson's and bring in my man."
"Bars and buffler skins," cried Brodey. "You don't mean to say that youwill do such a blame fool thing as that. Sho!"
"Not alone, Chip," said Sam. "I go with you."
"See hyar, young fellers," expostulated Brodey. "Do ye know what yourdoin'! Got any idee ye'll come back alive! I've been in some toughplaces before now, but shoot my worthless carcass if I want to go toSwanson's. He's killed a man, torn out his heart and eaten it raw, fera fact."
"Pshaw, who would believe such a yarn as that, man."
"Swar to gosh it's true," continued Brodey. "I don't believe thar's aman in the States what's got as much devil to thar square inch as thisman Swanson. Better not go, Cap'n. I'd hate tremendous to have youkilled."
Chip laughed lightly, as he stroked the neck of the Ranger's horse, andsaid:
"Brodey, I've been a detective for five years, and in those five yearsI've looked almost sure death in the face more than a score of times. Ihave seen the knife raised which was to be buried in my heart the nextsecond. I have felt the revolver spit its flames plump in my face. Ihave been tied hand and feet and laid across the rail, with a lightningexpress train not over a thousand feet off, coming down like the wind,and I am a live man to-day. The man isn't born yet that can kill me."
Chip said all this in a modest tone and no signs of braggadocio, for itwas all true, and his listeners knew he was telling facts by hisbearing and manner.
"Yes," broke in Sam, "and I was with you on several of these occasions,and what's more, I shall be with you on this one you are planning."
"I want you should be--but enough of this talk. We can do nothing morenow. Our men have given us the slip. Dismount, boys, and give the nagsa breathing spell."
Cook, by this time, had regained his senses, and was sitting up in themiddle of the trail rubbing his shoulder and wearing a most woebegoneand dazed look upon his expressive countenance. Observing this, Chipwalked toward him, and imitating a drunken stagger, sang:
"Drink, puppies, drink; let every puppy drink, That's old enough tostand and to swallow."
As the first strains fell on his ears, Cook started, and regarding Chipwith questioning eyes, inquired:
"Who are you fellows anyway; can't you let peaceable travelers alonewithout shooting their horses?"
"Oh! you were peaceable travelers, were you? Well, now, that's strange,we took you to be some horse thieves that have been skurrying aroundthese parts lately."
"Do you think I look like a horse-thief?" indignantly.
"Is that your own horse?"
"Not exactly. I hired--"
"Ah! yes, you hired it--they all say that--you hired it some time agoand have forgotten to pay the bill--"
"Well, I didn't either, I hired it for a week, and--"
"Really, Mr. Cook, you were going to make quite a visit--"
"My name ain't Cook."
"No? Let us call you Mr. Cook just for the sake of the argument. It's agood name, is Cook. I used to know a fellow named Cook once. He had acooper-shop on the east bottoms, Kansas City. I went over to see him aweek or so ago, and we had a high old time I can assure you. Cook was avery amusing gentleman. He could sing like Brignoli. What was that songhe could sing so nicely? Oh! yes, I have it."
"For we'll pass the bottle 'round When we've--"
"The tramp!" ejaculated Cook looking at Chip with amazement.
"The same, at your service, Mr. Cook, for that is your name, isn't it?"
"I'm caught," confessed the puzzled Cook. "What are you making game ofme for? What do you want me for?"
"Nothing, nothing. We were afraid you might prolong your anticipatedvisit to such a length that we grew homesick for you, so I got some ofthe boys together, a sort of a picnic, you know, to ask you not to staytoo long," bantered Chip. "We really can't take 'no' for an answer, Mr.Cook, really you must consider our feelings and return with us."
"I guess I can't help myself," said Cook grimly.
"It does look a little that way, don't it?"
Cook shook his head as he arose to his feet, and stooping over his deadhorse unloosed the girth and drew off the saddle, nor did he make anyobjection when Chip secured his revolver and ammunition belt. Escapewas entirely cut off from him and he accepted his capture in a resignedspirit, because he could not help himself.
"Brodey, how far is the railroad from here?"
"About fifteen miles over thar," pointing toward the east, "Blue Jacketlies thar, and is on the Missouri, Kansas and Texas."
"We'll make for it. You take the prisoner behind you and I will mountwith Sam."
The cavalcade were soon in motion, leaving the dead horses to bedevoured by the buzzards and coyotes which were already beginning togather around.
Arriving at Blue Jacket, the party left Chip and his prisoner, andturning to the north cantered off for Kansas City.
Jim Cummings; Or, The Great Adams Express Robbery Page 12
