CHAPTER XIX
When Hawk saw Bob Scott, two hours later, riding into his camp on theBrushwood with the two prisoners, he was taciturn but very muchsurprised.
Scott was disposed to make light of the lucky chance, as he termed it,that had thrown the two men into his way. Hawk, on the other hand,declared in his arbitrary manner that it was not wholly a luckychance. He understood the Indian's dogged tenacity too well to thinkfor a moment that the fugitives could have escaped him, even had henot ridden into Casement's camp as he so fortuitously had done.
The scout, Hawk knew, had the characteristic intuition of thefrontiersman; the mental attributes that combine with keen observationand unusually good judgment as aids to success when circumstances areseemingly hopeless. Such men may be at fault in details, andfrequently are, but they are not often wholly wrong in conclusions.And in their pursuit of a criminal they are like trained hounds, whichmay frequently lose their trail for a moment, but, before they havegone very far astray, come unerringly back to it.
"If they ever give you a chance, Bob, you will make a greatthief-catcher," exclaimed Hawk with his naturally prodigal generosityof appreciation.
"I certainly never expected to catch Rebstock and this fellow Seagrueas easily as that," smiled Scott, as the troopers took charge of hismen.
"If you hadn't caught them there you would have trailed them there. Itwould only have meant a longer chase."
"A whole lot longer."
"When you come to think of it, Bob, the railroad was their only hope,anyway. They did right in striking for it. Without horses, the bigcamp and the trains for Medicine Bend every day were their one chanceto get away."
Scott assented. "The trouble with us," he smiled, "was that we didn'tthink until after it was all over. Sometime a man will come to thesemountains who thinks things out before they happen instead of after.Then we will have a man fit to run the secret service on thisrailroad. But we are losing time," he added, tightening up his saddlegirths.
"What are you going to do now? And why," demanded Hawk without waitingfor an answer, "did you drag these men away down here instead ofleaving them for Casement to lock up until we were ready to take themto Medicine Bend?"
"I am going to drag them farther yet," announced Scott. "I am going toride after the French trader and fit these two fellows out in theirown clothes again to make it easier for Bucks to indentify them."
"Don't say 'indentify,' Bob, say 'identify,'" returned Hawk testily.
Bob Scott usually turned away a sharp word with silence, and althoughhe felt confident Hawk was wrong, he argued no further with him, butstuck just the same to his own construction of the troublesome word.
"You've got the right idea, Bob, if you have got the wrong word,"muttered Hawk. "Why didn't you think of that sooner?"
They broke camp and started promptly. About noon they overtook thetrading outfit and after some threatening forced the tricky teamsterto rig the two gamblers out in their own apparel. Having done this,they started on a long ride for Casement's camp, reaching it againwith their prisoners, and all very dusty and fatigued, long afterdark.
The hard work voluntarily undertaken by the scout to aid the boy, ashe termed Bucks, in identifying his graceless assailants wasvindicated when, the next morning, the party with their prisonersarrived on a special train at Point of Rocks, and Bucks immediatelypointed to Seagrue as the man who had first fired at him.
There were a few pretty hot moments on the platform when Bucks, amonga group of five camp malefactors on their way to Medicine Bend,confronted the two men who had tried to kill him, and unhesitatinglypointed them out. Seagrue, tall and surly, denied vehemently everhaving been at Point of Rocks and ever having seen Bucks. He declaredthe whole affair was "framed up" to send him to the penitentiary. Hethreatened if he were "sent up" to come back and kill Bucks if it wastwenty years later--and did, in that respect, try to keep his word.
But his threats availed him nothing, and John Rebstock who, thoughstill young, was a sly fox in crooked ways, contented himself with aphilosophical denial of everything alleged against him, adding only inan injured tone that nobody would believe a fat man anyway.
It was he, however, rather than the less clever Seagrue, who had begunto excite sympathy for what he called his luckless plight and that ofhis companion, before they had left the railroad camp. Among the fiveevil-doers who had been rounded-up and deported for the jail atMedicine Bend, and now accompanied the two gamblers, Rebstock spreadevery story he could think of to arouse his friends at Medicine Bendto a demonstration in his behalf.
The very first efforts at putting civil law and order into effectwere just then being tried in the new and lawless frontier railroadtown and the contest between the two elements of decency and oflicense had reached an acute pass when Rebstock and Seagrue werethrown into jail at Medicine Bend. A case of sympathy for them was nothard to work up among men of their own kind and threats were heard upand down Front Street that if the railroading of two innocent men tothe penitentiary were attempted something would happen.
Railroad men themselves, hearing the mutterings, brought word of themto head-quarters, but Stanley was in no wise disturbed. He had wantedto make an example for the benefit of the criminals who swarmed to thetown, and now welcomed the chance to put the law's rigor on the menthat had tried to assassinate his favorite operator. Bucks, lest hemight be made the victim of a more successful attack, was brought downfrom Point of Rocks the first moment he could be relieved. A plot toput him out of the way, as the sole witness against the accusedgamblers, was uncovered by Scott almost as soon as Bucks had returnedto the big town and, warned by his careful friend, he rarely went upstreet except with a companion--most frequently with Scott himself.
As the day set for Rebstock's trial drew near, rumors were heard of ajail delivery. The jail itself was a flimsy wooden affair, and socrude in its appointments that any civilized man would have beenjustified in breaking out of it.
Nor was Brush, the sheriff, much more formidable than the jail itself.This official sought to curry favor with the townspeople--and thatmeant, pretty nearly, with the desperadoes--as well as to stand wellwith the railroad men; and in his effort to do both he succeeded indoing neither.
Bucks was given a night trick on his old wire in the local station,and in spite of the round of excitement about him settled down to theroutine of regular work. The constant westbound movement ofconstruction material made his duties heavier than before, but heseemed able to do whatever work he was assigned to and gained thereputation of being dependable, wherever put.
He had risen one night from his key, after despatching a batch ofmessages, to stir the fire--the night was frosty--when he heardan altercation outside on the platform. In another moment thewaiting-room door was thrown open and Bucks turned from thestove, poker in hand, to see a man in the extremity of fear rushinto his lonely office.
The man, hatless and coatless and evidently trying to escape from someone, was so panic-stricken that his eyes bulged from their sockets,and his beard was so awry that it was a moment before Bucks recognizedhis old acquaintance Dan Baggs.
"They are after me, Bucks," cried Baggs, closing the door indesperation. "They will kill me--hide me or they'll kill me."
Before the operator could ask a question in explanation, almost beforethe words were out of the frightened engineman's mouth, and with Buckspointing with his poker to the door, trying to tell Baggs to lock it,the door again flew open and Bucks saw the face of a Front Streetconfidence man bursting through it.
Bucks sprang forward to secure the door behind the intruder, but hewas too late even for that. Half a dozen more men crowded into theroom. To ask questions was useless; every one began talking at once.Baggs, paralyzed with fear, cowered behind the stove and theconfidence man, catching sight of him, tried to crowd through thewicket gate. As he sprang toward it, Bucks confronted him with hispoker.
"Let that gate alone or I'll brain you," he cried, hardly realizingwhat he was sa
ying, but well resolved what to do.
The gambler, infuriated, pointed to Baggs. "Throw that cur out here,"he yelled.
Baggs, now less exposed to his enemies, summoned the small remnant ofhis own courage and began to abuse his pursuer.
"LET THAT GATE ALONE OR I'LL BRAIN YOU," HE CRIED.]
Bucks, between the two men with his poker, tried to stop the din longenough to get information. He drew the enraged gambler into acontroversy of words and used the interval to step to his key. As hedid so, Baggs, catching up a monkey-wrench that Bucks ordinarily usedon his letter-press, again defied his enemy.
It was only a momentary burst of courage, but it saved the situation.Taking advantage of the instant, Bucks slipped the fingers of his lefthand over the telegraph key and wired the despatchers upstairs forhelp. It was none too soon. The men, leaning against the railing,pushed it harder all along the line. It swayed with an ominous crackand the fastening gave way. Baggs cowered. His pursuers yelled, andwith one more push the railing crashed forward and the confidence mansprang for the engineer. Baggs ran back to where Bucks stood beforehis table, and the latter, clutching his revolver, warned Baggs'spursuers not to lay a hand on him.
Defying the single-handed defender, the gambler whipped out his ownpistol to put an end to the fight. It was the signal for hisfollowers, and in another minute half a dozen guns covered Bucks andhis companion.
Seconds meant minutes then. Bucks understood that only one shot wasneeded as the signal for his own destruction. What he did not quiterealize was that the gambler confronting him and his victim readsomething in Bucks's eye that caused him to hesitate. He felt that ifa shot were fired, whatever else happened, it would mean his own deathat Bucks's hand. It was this that restrained him, and the instantsaved the operator's life.
He heard the clattering of feet down the outside stairway, and thenext moment through the open door on the run dashed Bill Dancing,swinging a piece of iron pipe as big as a crowbar. The yardmaster,Callahan, was at his heels, and the two, tearing their way through theroom, struck without mercy.
The thugs crowded to the door. The narrow opening choked with mentrying to dodge the blows rained upon them by Dancing and Callahan.Before Baggs could rub his eyes the room was cleared, and half a dozentrainmen hastily summoned and led by a despatcher were engaged outupon the platform in a free fight with the Front Street ruffians.
Within the office, the despatcher found Bucks talking to Callahan,while Baggs was trying to explain to Bill Dancing how the confidencemen had tried to inveigle him into a "shell" game and, when they foundthey could not rob him of his month's pay in any other way, hadknocked him down to pick his pockets.
Callahan, who knew the trouble-making element better than any of therailroad men, went up town to estimate the feeling after the fight,which was now being discussed by crowds everywhere along Front Street.For every bruised and sore head marked by the punishment given byDancing in the defence of Baggs a new enemy and an active one had beenmade.
Stanley came in late from the west and heard the story of the fight.His comment was brief but significant. "It will soon be getting sothey won't wait for the railroad men to draw their pay. They will comedown here," said he ironically, "to draw it for them."
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