THE PERFECT END OF A DAY
ANDERSON CROW GETS ONE ON THE KAISER
A long, low-lying bank of almost inky-black clouds hung over a blood-redhorizon. The sun of a warm, drowsy September day was going to bed beyondthe scallop of hills.
Suddenly the red in the sky, as if fanned by an angry wind, blazed intoa rigid flame; catching the base of the coal-black cloud it turned itsedges into fire; and as the flame burnt itself out, the rich yellow ofgold came to glorify the triumphant cloud. The nether edge seemed to dipinto a lake, the shores of which were molten gold and upon whose surfacecraft of ever-changing colours lay moored for the coming night.
Anderson Crow, Marshal of Tinkletown, leaned upon his front-yard fenceand listened to the rhapsodic comments of Miss Sue Becker on the passingpanorama. Miss Becker, who had contributed several poems to the columnsof the Tinkletown _Banner_, and more than once had exhibited encouragingletters from the editors of _McClure's_, _Scribner's_, _Harper's_, andother magazines, was always worth listening to, for, as every one knows,she was the first, and, so far as revealed, the only literary geniusever created within the precincts of Tinkletown.
"You'll have to write a piece about it, Sue," said Anderson, shiftinghis spare frame slightly.
"No mortal pen, Mr. Crow, could do justice to the grandeur, theoverpowering splendour of that vista," said she.
Anderson took another look at the sunset,--a more or less stealthy one,it must be confessed, out of the corner of his eye. Sunsets were notmuch in his line.
"It's a great vister," he acknowledged. "I don't know as I can think ofa word that will rhyme with it, though."
"There is such a thing as blank verse, Mr. Crow," said Miss Becker,smiling in a most superior way.
Mr. Crow was thinking. "Blister wouldn't be bad," he announced."Something about the vister causin' a blister. I don't know as you areaware of the fact, Sue, but I wrote consider'ble poetry when I was ayoung feller. Mrs. Crow's got 'em all tied up in a pink ribbon. It's amighty funny thing that she won't even show 'em to anybody."
"Oh, but they are sacred," said Miss Becker feelingly, as she lookedover the rims of her spectacles at a spot in the sky some forty-fivedegrees above the steeple of the Congregational Church down the street.
"I don't know as I meant 'em to be sacred at the time," said he; "butthere wasn't anything in 'em that was unfittin' for a young lady toread."
"You don't understand. What could be more sacred than the outpouringsof love? What more--"
"'Course it was a good many years ago," Mr. Crow was quick to explain.
"Love's young dream," chided Miss Becker coyly.
Mr. Crow twisted his sparse grey beard with unusual tenderness. "Beatsall, don't it, Sue, what a poet'll do when he's tryin' to raise amoustache?"
"I am sure I don't know," said Miss Becker stiffly.
"Speakin' about sunsets," said he hastily, after a quick glance at hershaded upper lip, "how's your pa? I heard he had a sinkin' spellyestiday."
"He's better." A moment later, with fine scorn: "His sun hasn't set yet,Mr. Crow."
"Beats all how he hangs on, don't it? Eighty-seven last birthday, an'spry as a man o' fifty up to--" He broke off to devote his attention toa couple of strangers farther down the tree-lined street: two men whoapproached slowly on the plank sidewalk, pausing every now and then topeer inquiringly at the front doors of houses along the way.
Miss Sue Becker, whose back was toward the strangers, allowed her poeticmind to resume its interest in the sunset.
"Golden cloudlets float upon a coral--What did you say, Mr. Crow?"
"Ever see 'em before, Sue?"
"Hundreds of times. They remind me of the daintiest, fleeciest puffsof--"
"I'm talkin' about those men comin' up the street," said the old townmarshal sharply.
Miss Becker abandoned the transient sunset for something more durable.Forty-odd summers had passed over her head.
For one professedly indifferent to the opposite sex, Miss Becker wentfar toward dislocating her neck when Anderson Crow mentioned theapproach of a couple of strange men.
"I've never seen either of them before, Mr. Crow," she said, a littlejump in her voice.
"That settles it," said Anderson, putting on his spectacles.
"Settles what?"
"Proves they ain't been in Tinkletown more'n twenty minutes," hereplied, much too promptly to suit Miss Becker, who favoured him with alook he wouldn't have forgotten in a long time if he had had eyes in theback of his head. "They must be lookin' for some one," he went on,squinting narrowly. "Good-bye, Sue. See you tomorrer, I suppose."
"I'm not going yet, Mr. Crow," she said, moving a little closer to thefence. "You don't suppose I'm going to let those men pursue me all theway home, do you?"
"They don't look like kidnappers," he said. "Besides, it ain't darkenough yet."
"Just what do you mean by that, Anderson Crow?" she snapped.
"What do I mean by what?" he inquired in some surprise.
"By what you just said."
"I mean you're perfectly safe as long as it's daylight," he retorted."What else could I mean?"
The two strangers were quite near by this time--near enough, in fact, tocause Miss Becker to lower her voice as she said:
"They're awfully nice looking gentlemen, ain't they?"
Evidently Mr. Crow's explanation had satisfied her, for she was smilingwith considerable vivacity as she made the remark. Up to that instantshe had neglected her back hair. Now she gracefully, lingeringlyfingered it to see if it was properly in place. In doing so, she managedto drop her parasol.
To her chagrin, Marshal Crow took that occasion to behave in a mostincredible manner. It is quite probable that he forgot himself. In anycase, he picked up the parasol and returned it to her, snatching it, infact, almost from beneath the foot of the nearest stranger.
"Oh, thank you--thank you kindly, Mr. Crow," she giggled, and proceededto let it slip out of her fingers again. "Oh, how stupid! How perfectlyclumsy--"
"Did I hear you addressed as Mr. Crow?" inquired the foremost of the twostrangers, halting abruptly. He was a tall, florid man of forty orthereabouts, with a deep and not unpleasant voice. His companion wasalso tall but very gaunt and sallow. He wore huge round spectacles,hooked over his ears. Both were well dressed, one in grey flannel, theother in blue serge.
"You did," said the town marshal, straightening up. "You dropped yourumbrell' ag'in, Sue," he added. "Yes, sir, my name's Crow."
Miss Becker waited a few seconds and then picked up the parasol.
"The celebrated Anderson Crow?" asked the man with the glasses, openinghis eyes a little wider.
_"The celebrated Anderson Crow?" asked the man with theglasses_]
Mr. Crow suddenly remembered that he was in his shirt-sleeves. His fadedblue sack-coat--"undress," he called it--hung limp and neglected on thegate-post.
"More or less," he admitted, wishing to goodness he had on his best pairof "galluses" instead of the ones he was wearing.
"Marshal of Tinkletown, I believe?" said the florid stranger, raisinghis eyebrows slightly.
"Excuse me," said Anderson, conscious of a certain disparaging note inthe speaker's voice, which he quite naturally laid to the "galluses."Without turning his back toward them he retrieved his coat from thegate-post, remembering in time that those "plaguey" suspenders hadplayed him false that day and Alf Reesling had volunteered to "tie aknot in 'em," somewhere in the back. "I could fine myself five dollarsfer goin' without my uniform," said he, as he slipped an arm into onesleeve. "It's one of my hide-boundest rules," and his other arm wentin--not without a slight twinge, for he had been experiencing a touch ofrheumatism in that shoulder. "Yes, sir, I'm the Marshal o' Tinkletown,"he added, indicating the bright nickel star that gleamed resplendentamong an assortment of glittering and impressive dangling emblems.
The man with the spectacles peered intently at the collection on Mr.Crow's breast.
"You appear to be almost
everything else as well, Mr. Crow," said he,respectfully.
"Well, I guess I'll have to be going," put in Miss Becker at thisjuncture. "Give my love to the girls, Mr. Crow."
She moved off up the board-walk, her back as stiff as a ramrod. Any onewith half an eye could see that she was resolved not to drop the parasolagain. No savage warrior on battle bent ever gripped his club withgreater determination.
"So long," was all that Marshal Crow could spare the time to say. "Yessir," he went on, making a fine show of stifling a yawn, "yes, sir, I'vehad a few triflin' honours in my day. You gentlemen lookin' fer any onein partic'lar?"
"Not now," said the florid one. "We've found him."
The spectacled man had his nose quite close to Mr. Crow's badges. Heread them off, in the voice and manner of one tremendously impressed."Grand Army of the Republic. Sons of the American Revolution. Sons ofVeterans. Tinkletown Battlefield Association. New York ImperialDetective Association. Bramble County Horse-Thief Detective Association.Chief of Fire Department. And what, may I ask, is the little roundbutton at the top?"
The marshal was astonished. "Don't you know what that is?"
"It doesn't appear to have any lettering--"
"It don't have to have any. That's an American Red Cross button."
"So it is,--so it is," cried the other hastily. "How stupid of me."
"And this one on the other lapel is a Liberty Loan button,--one hundreddollars is what it represents, if anybody should ast you."
"I recognized it at once, sir. I have one of my own." He raised his handto his own lapel. "Why, hang it all, I forgot to remove it from my othercoat this morning."
"Well," said Anderson drily, "there 'pears to be some advantage inhavin' only one coat."
"Mr. Marshal," cut in the larger man brusquely, "we came to see you inregard to a matter of great importance--and, I may add, privacy. Havingheard of your reputation for cleverness and infallibility--"
"As everybody in the land has heard," put in the other.
"--we desire your co-operation in an undertaking of considerablemagnitude. Quite frankly, I do not see how we can succeed without yourvaluable assistance. You--"
"Hold on! If you're tryin' to get me to subscribe to a set of books,so's my name at the head of the list will drag other suckers into--"
"Not at all, sir--not at all. We are not book-agents, Mr. Marshal."
"Well, what are ye?"
"Metallurgists," said the florid one.
"I see, I see," said Anderson, who didn't see at all. "You started offjust like a book-agent, er a lightnin'-rod salesman."
"My name is Bacon,--George Washington Bacon,--and my friend bears aneven nobler monicker, if that be possible. He is Abraham LincolnBonaparte--a direct descendant of both of those illustrious gentlemen."
"You don't say! I didn't know Lincoln was any connection ofBonaparte's."
"It isn't generally known," the descendant informed him, with becomingmodesty.
"Well, I'm seventy-three years old an' I never heard--"
"Seventy-three!" gasped Mr. Bonaparte, incredulously. "I don't believeit. You can't be more than fifty, Mr. Crow."
"Do you suppose I fought in the Union Army before I was born?" demandedMr. Crow. "Where'd I get this G. A. R. badge, lemme ast you? An' youdon't think the citizens of this here town would elect a ten-year-oldboy to the responsible position of town marshal, do you? Why, gosh snapit, I been Marshal o' Tinkletown fer forty years--skippin' two yearsback in the nineties when I retired in favour of Ed Higgins, owin' to amisunderstandin' concernin' my health--an'--"
"It is incredible, sir. You are the youngest-looking man for your yearsI've ever seen. But we are digressing. Proceed, Mr. Bacon. Pardon theinterruption."
Marshal Crow had drawn himself up to his full height,--a good sixfeet,--and, expanding under the influence of a just pride, his chestcame perilously near to dislodging a couple of brass buttons. His keenlittle grey eyes snapped brightly in their deep sockets; his sparse chinwhiskers, responding to the occasion, bristled noticeably. Employing histhumb and forefinger, he first gave his beard a short caress, afterwhich he drew it safely out of line and expectorated thinly between histeeth with such astounding accuracy that both of the strangers stared.His objective was a narrow slit in the tree-box across the sidewalk.
"I couldn't do that in a thousand years," said Mr. Bacon, deeplyimpressed.
"You could do it in half that time if you lived in Tinkletown," wasAnderson's cryptic return. "You ought to see Ed Higgins. He's ourchampeen. His specialty is knot-holes. Ed c'n hit--"
"Are you interested in metallurgy, Mr. Crow?" broke in Mr. Bacon, alittle rudely.
Anderson pondered a few seconds, squinting at the tree-tops. The twostrangers waited his reply with evident concern.
"Sometimes I am, an' sometimes I ain't," said he at last, veryseriously. He even went so far as to shake his head slowly, as if toemphasize the fact that he had made a life-long study of the subject andhad not been able to arrive at a definite conclusion.
"Good!" exclaimed Mr. Bonaparte. "That proves, Mr. Crow, that you are aman of very great discernment, very great discernment indeed."
Mr. Crow brightened perceptibly. "I have to know a little of everythingin my line of work, Mr. Lincoln."
Mr. Bonaparte made no attempt to correct him. As a matter of fact, for amoment or two he was in some doubt himself; it was only after indulgingin a hasty bit of mental jugglery that he decided his friend couldn'tpossibly have introduced him as Bonaparte Abraham Lincoln, or AbrahamBonaparte Lincoln. He wished, however, that he had paid a little closerattention when Mr. George Washington Bacon arranged his names for him.
"We should like to have a few minutes' private conversation with you,Mr. Marshal," said Bacon, lowering his voice.
"Fire away, gents."
"I--ahem!--I said private, Mr. Crow."
"Well, if it's anything you don't want the birds to hear, I guess we'dbetter go up to the house. If you don't mind that woodpecker up yanderan' them two sparrers out there in the road, I guess this is about asprivate a place as you'll find in Tinkletown."
"Haven't you--an office, Mr. Crow?" demanded Mr. Bacon.
"Yes, but it ain't private. Whenever I've got anything private to 'tendto--er even _think_ about--I allus go out in the middle of the street.Shoot ahead; nobody'll hear you."
"It will take some little time," explained Mr. Bonaparte, anxiously."Have you had your dinner?"
Anderson looked at him keenly. "What's that got to do with it?"
"Mr. Bonaparte means supper," explained Mr. Bacon. "He is a bit excited,Mr. Crow."
"He _must_ be," agreed Anderson, glancing at his watch. "Half-past six.Go ahead. We won't be interrupted now till it's time to go to bed."
The two strangers in Tinkletown drew still closer--so close, indeed,that the town marshal, having had his pocket picked once or twice at theCounty Fair, fell back a little from the fence.
"You must be careful to show no sign of surprise, Mr. Crow," said Bacon."What I am about to say to you may startle you, but you--"
Anderson reassured him with a gesture.
"Perceed," he said.
Whereupon the spokesman, Mr. Bacon, did a tale unfold that caused thetown marshal to lie awake nearly all night and to pop out of bed thenext morning fully an hour earlier than usual. For the time being,however, he succeeded so admirably in simulating indifference that themen themselves were not only surprised but a trifle disturbed. He wasn'tconducting himself at all as they had expected. At the conclusion ofthis serious fifteen minutes' recital,--rendered into paragraphs byAnderson's frequent interruptions,--the eager Mr. Bonaparte exclaimed:
"Well, Mr. Crow, doesn't it completely bowl you over?"
"What's that? Bowl me over? I should say not! Why, I knowed fer I can'ttell you how long that there's gold up yander in my piece of timberlandon Crow's Mountain. Knowed it ever since I was a boy."
His hearers blinked rapidly for a few seconds.
; "Really?" murmured Mr. Bacon.
"Do you mean to say there actually _is_ gold--" began Mr. Bonaparte, buthe got no farther. Whether accidentally or otherwise, Mr. Bacon's footcame sharply into contact with the speaker's shin, and the questionterminated in a pained look of surprise, directed with some intensityand a great deal of fortitude at nothing in particular.
"Well, you _are_ a wonder, Mr. Crow," said Mr. Bacon hastily. "I amimmensely relieved that you _do_ know of its existence. It simplifiesmatters tremendously. It has been there all the time and you've neverknown just how to go about getting it out of the ground--isn't that thecase, Mr. Crow?"
"Exactly," said Mr. Crow.
Mr. Bacon shot a significant look at Mr. Bonaparte, and that worthy puthis hand suddenly to his mouth.
"Well, that's what we're here for, Mr. Crow--to get that gold out of theearth. If our estimates are correct--or, I should say, if ourinvestigations establish the fact that it is a real vein and not merelya little pocket, there ought to be a million dollars in that piece ofland of yours. Now, let me see. Just how much land do you own up there,Mr. Crow?"
"I own derned near all of it," said the marshal promptly. "'Boutseventy-five acres, I should say."
"Nothing but timberland, I assume--judging from what we have been ableto observe."
"All timber. Never been cleared, 'cept purty well down the slope."
"And it is about five miles as the crow flies from Tinkletown, eh?"
"I ginerally say as the wild goose flies," said Mr. Crow, somewhatcurtly.
"Well, you have heard the proposition I bring from my employers in NewYork City. Think it over tonight, Mr. Crow. Then, we will meet tomorrowmorning at your office to complete our plans. I shall be prepared tohand you a draft for two hundred dollars to bind the bargain. What timedo you reach your office?"
"Ginerally some'eres between six and a quarter-past."
"My God!" muttered Mr. Bonaparte.
"We will be there at six-fifteen," said Mr. Bacon firmly. "Good evening,Mr. Crow."
Far in the night, Mrs. Crow peevishly mumbled to her bedfellow: "Whatails you, Anderson Crow? Go to sleep!"
"Never mind, never mind. I can't tell you, so don't pester me. All I astof you is to wake me at five if I happen to oversleep."
"Well, of all the--do you suppose I'm goin' to lay awake here all nightwaitin' for five o'clock to----"
"How in thunder do you expect me to go to sleep, Eva, if you keepjabberin' away to me all night long like this? Ding it all to gosh, hereit is after one o'clock an' you still talkin'. Don't do it, I say.Don't ast another question till five o'clock, an' then all you got to doit to ast me if I'm awake."
"Umph!" said Mrs. Crow.
* * * * *
Messrs. Bacon and Bonaparte were an hour and forty minutes late.
It was nearly eight o'clock when the two gentlemen came hurrying aroundthe corner into Sickle street, piloted by Alf Reesling, the towndrunkard.
A long, important-looking cigar propitiated Mr. Crow, and after Mr.Reesling and other citizens had been given to understand that thestrangers were figuring on buying all the timber on Crow's Mountain, thethree principals set forth in Anderson's buckboard.
In due time they arrived at the top of the "Mountain." Now Crow'sMountain was no mountain at all. It was a thickly wooded hill that hadachieved eminence by happening to be a scant fifty feet higher than theknolls surrounding it. From the low-lying pastures and grain-fields tothe top of the outstanding pine that reared its blasted storm-strippedtip far above its fellows, the elevation was not more than three hundredfeet. Nevertheless, it was the loftiest hill in all that region andcapped Anderson Crow's agricultural possessions.
Just before the Boggs City National Bank at the county seat closed thatafternoon Mr. Crow appeared at the receiving-teller's window. Hedeposited two hundred dollars in currency. Mr. Bacon had decided that adraft on New York might excite undue curiosity.
"If people were to get wise to what we are really after up here on thismountain, Mr. Crow," said he, "it would play hob with everything. If itgets out that we are after gold--why, the price of land would be so highwe couldn't--"
"Lot of these hayseeds been wantin' to sell fer years, the dernedrubes," broke in Anderson, pityingly.
"Well, you get me, don't you? Keep our eyes open and our mouths closed,and we will be millionaires inside of a year--or two, at the outside."
"Mum's the word, as the feller said," agreed Mr. Crow.
"And of course you see the advisability of having our articles ofincorporation filed secretly in New Jersey. This contract we have signedwill be ratified by our employers in New York, and the regular articlesdrawn up at once. Wait till you see the names of the men who are behindthis enterprise. The first meeting of the board of directors will bringtogether a dozen of the greatest--"
"Where will the meetin' be held?" broke in Anderson, somewhat anxiously.
"New York City, of course. It wouldn't surprise me in the least to seeyou elected President of the Corporation, Mr. Crow."
"Oh, gosh-a-mighty! I--I can't accept the honour, Mr. Bacon. It's toomuch of a responsibility. Besides, I don't see how I'm goin' to be ableto get away from Tinkletown this fall to attend the meetin'. The CountyFair opens next week at Boggs City, an' the second week in Octoberthere's to be a Baptist revival--"
"You can send in your proxy, Mr. Crow," explained Mr. Bacon. "It will beall the same to us, you know."
"Well, I guess I better," said Anderson thoughtfully.
A fortnight went by. Crow's Mountain had become the scene of sharp butstealthy activity. Anderson went about the streets of Tinkletown as ifin a daze. Acting upon the stern, almost offensive, advice of his newpartners, he did not go near the "Mountain" after the first couple ofdays. They made it very plain to him that _everything_ depended on hisshrewdness in staying away from the "Mountain" altogether.
The Tinkletown _Banner_, in reporting the vast transaction, incorporatedan interview with Mr. G. W. Bacon, who announced that the syndicate herepresented had in mind a project to erect a huge summer hotel on top ofthe "most beautiful mountain east of the Rockies," in the event thatsatisfactory terms could be arranged with Mr. Crow. As a matter of fact,explained Mr. Bacon, he had been instructed to make certain preliminaryinvestigations in regard to construction, and so forth--such asascertaining how far down they would have to go to bed-rock, and allthat sort of thing.
Practically all of the syndicate's preparatory work on Crow's Mountainwas done under cover of night. Motor-trucks that were said to have beendriven all the way from Pittsburgh--on account of the dreadfulcongestion on the railroads--delivered machinery, tools, drills, rods,bolts, rivets and thin jangling strips of structural steel.
Marshal Crow, assuming an importance he did not feel, strutted aboutTinkletown.
* * * * *
His abstraction had a good deal to do with the accident to old Mrs.Twiggers. He was dreamily cogitating at the time she was run down bySchultz's butcher-wagon, and as the catastrophe took place almost underhis nose, more than one citizen called him names he wouldn't forget. Theold lady had her spectacles smashed and lost a dozen eggs in theconfusion. Moreover, Ed Higgins's hen-roost was robbed; and three trampsspent as much as half a day on Main Street before Anderson took anynotice of them. Ordinarily, he was death on tramps. Crime, as Mr. HarrySquires put it in a caustic editorial in the _Banner_, was rampant inTinkletown. It was getting so rampant, he complained, that it wasn'tsafe to cross the street--especially while eggs were retailing atforty-two cents a dozen.
It remained for Alf Reesling, the town drunkard, to bring order out ofchaos. Not that he seized the opportunity to go on a spree whileAnderson was moon-gazing,--not at all. Alf loathed intoxicating liquors.He did not drink himself, and he had a horror of any one who did. He hadbeen drunk just three times in his life, but as he had managed to crowdthe three exhibitions into the space of one week--some twenty yearsbefore--Tinkleto
wn elected him forthwith for life to the office of townsot.
Now, Alf had a grievance. He finally got the ear of Marshal Crow and letloose in a way that startled the old man out of his daze.
"Here you been watchin' me, an' trailin' me, an' lecturin' me for twentyyears, dern ye,--an' pleadin' with me to keep sober fer the sake ofTinkletown's fair name, an' you let this feller Bonyparte git full an'keep people awake half the night. He's been drunk more times in the lastthree weeks than I ever was in all my life. He--"
"What's that? Did you say drunk?" demanded Anderson, blinking. "Who toldyou he was drunk?"
"_He_ did," said Alf. "He don't make any bones about it. He tellseverybody when he is drunk. He's proud of it."
"An' I suppose everybody believes him," said Anderson scathingly. "Thepeople of this here town will believe _any_ thing if--"
"Las' night that pardner of his'n an' two other fellers from up the hillhad to take him up to his room an' lock him in. He was tryin' to singthe Star Spangled Banner in _Dutch_. Gosh, it was awful! He orter bearrested, same as anybody else, Anderson Crow. You got me undersuspicion every minute o' the time--night _and_ day--"
"That'll do, that'll do, now Alf. No more back talk out o' you,"exclaimed Anderson menacingly. "You might as well _be_ drunk as to _act_drunk. Don't you know any better'n--"
"Are you goin' to arrest this Bonyparte feller?"
Anderson eyed him sternly for a moment. "I got half a notion to run youin, Alf Reesling, fer interferin' with an officer."
"How'm I interferin'?"
"You're preventin' me from arrestin' a violater of the law, dern you.Can't you see I'm on my way over to Justice Robb's to swear out awarrant against Abraham Lincoln Bonaparte for bein' intoxicated? What doyou mean by stoppin' me an'--"
"I'll go along, Andy," broke in Alf, suddenly affable. "I'll swear to itif you--"
"'Tain't necessary," announced Anderson loftily. "I c'n attend to my ownbusiness, if you can't. Nobody c'n sing the Star Spangled Banner inDutch without havin' a charge of intoxication filed ag'in him, lemmetell you that. Git out o' my way, Alf."
Mr. Crow's pride had been touched. The shaft of criticism had gone home.He would arrest Mr. Abraham Lincoln Bonaparte, no matter what came ofit. He did not like Mr. Bonaparte anyway. It was Mr. Bonaparte who hadordered him off Crow's Mountain--his own mountain, mind you--and toldhim not to come puttering around there any more.
On second thoughts, he accepted the nominal town sot's offer to makeaffidavit against a real offender, but declined his company andassistance in effecting the arrest. Down in the old Marshal's heartlurked the fear that his new partners would put up such strenuousobjections to the arrest that he would have to give way to them. It wasthis misgiving that caused him to make the trip to Crow's Mountaininstead of confronting his man that evening at the hotel or in thestreet, in the presence of an audience.
Arriving at the cross-roads half a mile from the foot of Crow'sMountain, he encountered two men tinkering with the engine of a bigautomobile. They stopped him and inquired if there was a garage nearby.While he was directing them to Pete Olsen's in town, he espied two moremen reposing in the shade of a tree farther up the lane.
As he drove on, leaving them behind, he found himself possessed of thenotion that the two men were strangely nervous and impatient. Hedecided, after he had gone a half mile farther that they had, as amatter-of-fact, acted in a very suspicious manner,--just as automobilethieves might be expected to act in the presence of an officer of thelaw. He made up his mind that if they were still there when he returnedwith his prisoner, he would yank 'em up for investigation.
He went through the motions of hitching old Hip and Jim to a saplingnear the top of the "Mountain." They went to sleep almost instantly.
In the little clearing off to the left, a couple of hundred yards away,Marshal Crow observed several men at work constructing a "shanty."Closer at hand, almost lost to view among the pines, rose the thin,open-work steel tower from which the "drill" was to be operated.Standing out among the tree-tops were the long cross-bars of steel, andfrom them ran the "guy" wires to the ground below. Mr. Crow had neverseen a "drill" before, but he had been told by Mr. Bacon that this wasthe newest thing on the market.
The Marshal started off in the direction of the "shanty" and suddenly amost astonishing thing happened. Mr. Crow disappeared from view as if bymagic!
_The Marshal started off in the direction of the"shanty"_]
In order to give the drill as wide a berth as possible, he had deployedwidely to the left of the path, making his way somewhat tortuouslythrough a rough lot of underbrush. Without the slightest warning, theearth gave way beneath him and down he shot, clawing frantically at theedges of a well-camouflaged hole in the ground, taking with him a vastamount of twigs, branches and a net-work of sapling poles.
Not only did he drop a good twelve feet, but he landed squarely uponthe stooping person of Mr. Bacon, who emitted a startling sound thatbegan as a yell and ended as a grunt. He then crumpled up and spreadhimself out flat, with Mr. Crow draped awkwardly across his prostrateform. For the time being, Mr. Bacon was as still as the grave. He wasout.
Anderson scrambled to his feet, pawing the air with his hands, his eyestightly shut. He was yelling for help.
Now, it was this yelling for help that deceived the astonished Mr.Bonaparte. He jumped at once to the conclusion that the Marshal wascalling for assistance from the _outside_.
So he threw up his hands!
"I--surrender! I give in!" he yelled. "Keep them off! Don't let them getat me!"
_"I--I surrender! I give in!" he yelled_]
Anderson opened his eyes and stared.
He found himself in a small, squat room lighted by a lantern which stoodupon a crudely made table in the corner beyond Bonaparte. There was aboard floor well littered with soil and shavings. In another cornerstood a singular looking contraption, not unlike a dynamo.
Marshal Crow bethought himself of his mission. Although the breath hadbeen jarred out of his body, he managed to say,--explosively:
"I--I got a warrant for your arrest. Come along now! Don't resist. Don'tmake a fuss. Come along peaceably. I--"
"I'll come, Mr. Crow. I was dragged into this thing against my will._Gott in Himmel! Gott!--_"
"Never mind what you got," exclaimed Anderson sharply. "You come alongwith me or you'll get something worse'n that."
"Is--is he dead!" groaned Bonaparte, his eyes almost starting from hishead.
Anderson backed away from the sprawling, motionless figure on the floor.
"I--I--gosh, I hope not. I--I was as much surprised as anybody. Say, yousee if he's breathin'. We got to git him out o' this place right awayan' send for a doctor. The good Lord knows I didn't intend to light onhim like that. It was an accident, I swear it was. You know just how ithappened, an'--you'll stand by me, won't you, if--"
Just then a loud voice came from above.
"Hey, down there!" A second's pause. Then: "We've got you dead torights, so no monkey business. Come up out o' that, or we'll pump enoughlead down there to--"
"Don't shoot,--don't shoot!" yelled Mr. Bonaparte shrilly. "Tell yourmen not to fire, Mr. Crow!"
"Tell--tell _who_?" cried Anderson blankly. Suddenly he sprang to hiscompanion's side; seizing him by the arm, he whispered hoarsely: "Bygosh, I thought there was somethin' queer about that gang. Have you gotany of the gold here? I recollect that feller's voice, plain as day.They're after the gold. They've heard about--"
"Are you coming up?" roared the voice from the outer world.
"Who are you?" called back Anderson stoutly.
"Oh, I guess you'll recognize United States marshals when you see 'em.Come on, now."
Abraham Lincoln Bonaparte faced Marshal Crow, the truth dawning upon himlike a flash.
"You damned old rube!" he snarled, and forthwith planted his fist underAnderson's chin-whiskers, with such surprising force that the old manonce more landed heavily on the prostrate form of the unfo
rtunate Bacon.
"O-oh, gosh!" groaned Anderson, and as his eyes rolled upward he saw amillion stars chasing each other around the ceiling.
"I'll get _that_ much satisfaction out of it anyhow," he heard some onesay, from a very great distance.
Sometime afterward he was dimly aware of a jumble of excited voicesabout him. Some one was shouting in his ear. He opened his eyes andeverything looked green before them. In time he recognized pine trees,very lofty pine trees that slowly but surely shrank in size as he gazedwonderingly at them.
There were a lot of strange men surrounding him. Out of the mass, hefinally selected a face that grew upon him. It was the face of AlfReesling.
"By jinks, Anderson, you done it _this_ time," Alf cried excitedly. "Itold 'em you was on your way up here to arrest these fellers, an' byjinks, I knowed you'd get 'em."
"Le--lemme set down, please," mumbled Anderson, and the two men whosupported him lowered him gently to the ground, with his back against atree trunk. "Come here, Alf," he called out feebly.
Alf shuffled forward.
"Who are these men?" whispered Anderson.
"Detectives--reg'lar detectives," replied Alf. "United Statesdetectives--what do you call 'em?"
"Scotland Yard men," replied Anderson, who had done a good deal ofreading in his time.
"I started out after you on my wheel, Andy, thinkin' maybe you'd havetrouble. Down the road I met up with these fellers in a big automobile.They stopped me an' said I couldn't go up the hill. Just then up comesanother car full of men. They all seemed to be acquainted. I told 'em Iwas a deputy marshal an' was goin' up the hill to help you arrest afeller named Bonyparte. Well, by jinks, you oughter heard 'em! Theycussed, and said the derned ole fool would spile everything. Then, 'foreyou could say Joe, they piled into one o' the cars an' sailed up thehill. I didn't get up here till after they'd hauled you an' yourprisoners out o' that hole, but I give 'em the laugh just the same. Youcaptured the two ringleaders. By gosh, I'm glad you're alive, Andy. Ibet the Kaiser'll hate you fer this."
"The--the what?"
"Ole Kaiser Bill. Say, you was down there quite a little spell, an' theywon't let me go down. What does a wireless plant look like, Anderson?"
* * * * *
That evening Marshal Crow sat on the porch in front of Lamson's store,smoking a fine cigar, presented to him by Harry Squires, reporter forthe _Banner_. He had a large audience. Indeed, he was obliged to raisehis voice considerably in order to reach the outer rim.
He had been called a hero, a fearless officer, and a lot of otherpleasant things, by the astonished United States marshals, and he hadbeen given to understand that he would hear from Washington before long.Mr. Bacon (Kurt von Poppenblitz) and Mr. Bonaparte (Conrad Bloom) hadalso called him something, but he didn't mind. His erstwhile partners,with their four or five henchmen, were now well on their way to limbo,and Mr. Crow was regaling his hearers with the story. During the firstrecital (this being either the ninth or tenth), Alf Reesling had beenobliged to prompt him--a circumstance readily explainable when one stopsto consider the effect of the murderous blow Mr. Crow had received.
"'Course," said Anderson, "they _did_ fool me at first. But I wasn'tlong gittin' onto 'em. I used to sneak up there and investigate ever'now an' ag'in. Finally I got onto the fact that they was German spies--Igot positive proof of it. I can't tell you just what it is, 'cause it'sgovernment business. Then I finds out they got a wireless plant all inorder, an' ready to relay messages to the coast o' Maine, from some'eresout west. So today, I goes over to Justice Robb's and gits a warrant forintoxication. That was to make it legal fer me to bust into their shantyif necessary. Course, the drunk charge was only a blind, as I told theU. S. marshal. I went right straight to that underground den o' their'n,an' afore they knowed what was up, I leaped down on 'em. Fust thing Idone was to put the big and dangerous one horse de combat. He was theone I was worried about. I knocked him flat an' then went after t'otherone. He let on like he was surrenderin'. He fooled me, I admit--'cause Idon't know anything 'bout wireless machinery. All of a sudden he give mea wireless shock--out o' nowhere, you might say--an' well, by cracky, Ithought it was all over. 'Course, I realize now it was foolish o' me totry to go up there an' take them two desperadoes single-handed, butI--What's that, Bud?"
"Mrs. Crow sent me to tell you if you didn't come home to supper thisminute, you wouldn't git any," called out a boy from the outskirts ofthe crowd.
"That's the second wireless shock you've had today, Anderson," saidHarry Squires, drily, and slowly closed one eye.
Anderson Crow, Detective Page 3
