Bert Wilson on the Gridiron

by Madeline Leslie

  CHAPTER XII

  THE COACH ROBBERY

  ONE morning Bert received a letter that caused him to emit a wild whoopof joy, and then set off post haste to find Tom and Dick. He discoveredthem at last on the campus, kicking a ball around, and rushed towardthem waving the open letter over his head.

  "Say, fellows," he shouted when he got within speaking distance of them,"whom do you suppose this letter is from? Bet you a million you can'tguess right in three guesses."

  "From the way you seem to feel about it," grinned Dick, "it must containmoney from home. I don't know what else could make you feel as happy asyou appear to be."

  "No, it isn't money," replied Bert, "but it's something better."

  "Come off," chaffed Tom, "there 'ain't no such thing.' But tell us whatit is and get it out of your system."

  "It's a letter from Mr. Melton," explained Bert, "saying he's on his wayEast, and is going to visit us here. What do you know about that, eh?"

  "Great!" exclaimed Dick and Tom in chorus, and Dick asked, "When does hesay he'll get here?"

  "Monday or Tuesday of next week," replied Bert, consulting the letter."Either Monday afternoon or Tuesday morning. He's going to stop at the'Royal,' and wants us to be on hand to meet him. He says in allprobability he'll arrive on the 7:45 Monday evening. And just make outwe won't be on hand to give him a rousing welcome, what?"

  "I rather guess we will," said Tom, "and then some. I move that we hirea brass band and do the thing up right."

  "That's a good idea all right," laughed Bert, "but I rather think Mr.Melton would prefer to dispense with the brass band. But we'll manage tomake him know he's welcome, I have no doubt of that."

  "I'd deserve to be hung, drawn, and quartered if _I_ didn't," said Dickwith feeling. "He was certainly a friend in need if there ever was one."

  Dick alluded to a never-to-be-forgotten time when Mr. Melton had, at therisk of his own life, rendered timely aid to Bert and Tom in rescuingDick from a band of Mexican outlaws. The three comrades were not ones toforget such a service, and from that time on Mr. Melton had alwaysoccupied a warm place in their regard. In addition to his personalbravery he was genial and good natured, with a heart as big as himself.He had taken part in many enterprises, but was now a prosperous rancherin the Northwest, calling many a fertile acre his own.

  He had traveled extensively and knew much of the world. His stock ofexperiences and anecdote seemed inexhaustible, and he was never at aloss for some tale of adventure when called upon to tell one. His bluff,hearty manner gained him friends wherever he went, and it was withfeelings of the keenest anticipation that the three comrades lookedforward to his coming. It was only Wednesday when Bert received theletter announcing his coming, so they had several days of inevitablewaiting.

  However, "all things come to him who waits," and the day to which theboys looked forward with so much anticipation was no exception to therule. They were at the station long before the train was due, and itseemed hours to them before they heard its whistle in the distance.

  "The chances are though," said Tom pessimistically, "that something hashappened to delay him and he won't be on this train at all, but on theone that comes in to-morrow morning."

  "That's the way it usually works out," agreed Bert with a grin, "butsomehow I have a hunch that Mr. Melton is going to be on this train. Hesaid in the letter you know, that in all probability he would be on theearlier train."

  "Yes, I know," said Tom, "and I only hope that my fears are groundless.But we won't have to wait long now to find out at any rate."

  He had hardly ceased speaking when the train puffed into the station.They scanned the long line of cars carefully, and it was Dick who firstdiscerned the burly form descending the narrow steps of one of the rearPullmans.

  "There he is, fellows," he shouted and made a dash in the direction ofthe approaching figure, followed closely by Bert and Tom. Mr. Melton sawthem coming and stretched out his hand. "Well, well!" he exclaimed,after shaking hands all around. "I'm certainly glad to see you oncemore, my boys. You don't look as though the grind of college work hasinterfered much with your health," with a twinkle in his eyes.

  "No," laughed Bert, "we're not actually wasting away under the strain.But as far as that goes," he continued, "you look pretty fit yourself."

  "Yes, and I feel it, too," replied Mr. Melton. "I'm not quite as spry asI used to be, but I never felt better in my life. There's nothing likean open air life to keep a man young."

  While this talk was going on, the little party was making its way towardthe hotel at which Mr. Melton had said he was going to put up, and werenot long in reaching it.

  "Well, boys," said Mr. Melton as they ascended the handsome flight ofsteps leading up to the entrance, "I don't suppose you've had supperyet, have you? If not I want you all to keep me company. It's on me, andthe best in the house is none too good for us."

  "Well," replied Bert, "speaking for myself, nothing would give megreater pleasure. But we're all three slaves of the training table, youknow, so I'm afraid you'll have to excuse us this time."

  "That's right!" exclaimed Mr. Melton in a disappointed tone, "for themoment I had forgotten all about that. But duty is duty, and far be itfrom me to put temptation in your path."

  "What I think we had better do," said Bert, "is to see you safelyinstalled here, and then hustle back to college and eat. Then we cancome back here and spend the evening with you."

  "I guess that will be the best plan," agreed Mr. Melton, "but you mustpromise me to get back soon."

  Of course they all promised, and after leaving their friend to thetender mercies of the hotel clerk, hastened back to their Alma Mater.

  They were just in time for dinner, but in their excitement and hurry toget back to the hotel ate less than usual. In reply to Reddy's query asto "what was up," they told him of Mr. Melton's arrival. Reddy had heardof the Mexican adventure and spoke accordingly. "He must be a good manto know," he opined, "and I'd like to meet him. Go ahead an' make yourcall now, but don't get back late. I guess, from what I hear of thisMelton that he'll see that you leave in time anyway."

  "No, he's not the kind to persuade people to forget their obligations,"said Dick. "In fact, he's just the opposite. But of course our ownwell-known principles would make it impossible for us to be late," witha grin.

  "Yes, I know all about that sort of stuff," said Reddy. "See if for onceyou can live up to your own 'rep.'"

  "All you got to do is keep your eyes peeled, and you'll see us piking inhere right on the dot," laughed Tom. "Come on, fellows. The sooner weget started the sooner we'll get back."

  "Right you are," agreed Bert, and the three comrades swung into a briskstride. A twenty-minute walk brought them to the "Royal," and they wereimmediately ushered up to Mr. Melton's room. In answer to their knock ahearty voice bade them "come in," and as they opened the door Mr. Meltonmet them with outstretched hand.

  "Come in and make yourselves at home," he said genially. "If you wantanything and don't see it, ask for it."

  "You seem to be pretty well fixed with about everything that anybodycould want, now," commented Bert, glancing about the luxuriouslyappointed room. "This place certainly looks as though it had had somethought and money expended on it."

  "Yes," admitted the Westerner, "it reminds me of the so-called 'hotels'we used to have out West in the early days--it's so different. Theheight of luxury there was in having a room all to yourself. As a ruleyou had to bunk in with at least two or three others. O yes, this isquite an improvement on one of those old shacks. I remember one of thepioneer towns where there was a fierce rivalry between the proprietorsof the only two hotels in town. They were each trying to get the betterof the other by adding some improvement, real or fancied. First theowner of the 'Palace' had his shack painted a vivid white and green.Then the owner of the 'Lone Star' hostelry, not to be outdone, had hisplace painted also, and had a couple of extra windows cut in the wall.So it went, and if they had kept it up long enough, probab
ly in the endpeople stopping at one of the places would have been fairly comfortable.But before matters reached that unbelievable pitch, O'Day, owner of the'Palace,' was killed in a shooting fracas. The man who plugged himclaimed he was playing 'crooked' poker, and I think that in allprobability he was. If he wasn't, it was about the only time in his lifethat he ever played straight."

  "What happened to the man who did the shooting?" asked Bert.

  "Well, O'Day wasn't what you'd call a very popular character," repliedMr. Melton, "and nobody felt very much cut up over his sudden exit fromthis vale of tears. They got up an impromptu jury, but the twelve 'goodmen and true' failed to find the defendant guilty."

  "But how did they get around it?" asked Tom. "There was no doubt aboutwho did the killing, was there?"

  "Not the least in the world," replied Mr. Melton with a laugh; "but as Isay, popular sentiment was with the man who did the shooting, so thejury turned in a verdict that ran something in this fashion, if Iremember rightly: 'We find that the deceased met death whileinadvisably attempting to stop a revolver bullet in motion' or words tothat effect. I thought at the time it was a masterpiece of legalfiction."

  "I should say it was," commented Dick. "The quibbles and technicalitiesthat make our laws a good deal of a joke to-day have nothing much onthat."

  "That's a fact," agreed Mr. Melton; "some of the results of our modern'justice,' so called, are certainly laughable. It's all very well togive a man every chance and the benefit of every doubt, but when aconviction is set aside because the court clerk was an hour behind timegetting to court on the day of the trial, it begins to look as thoughthings were being carried too far. Mere technicalities and lawyers'quibbles should not have the weight with judges that for some reasonthey seem to possess."

  "I've no doubt," remarked Bert, "that some of the rough and ready courtssuch as you were just telling us about meted out a pretty fair brand ofjustice at that."

  "Yes, they did," replied Mr. Melton. "They got right down to the core ofthe argument, and cut out all confusing side issues. If, for instance,three witnesses all swore they saw a man steal a horse, and yet wereunable to agree on the exact time of the stealing, the chances were tento one that the horse thief would be strung up without further loss oftime. And there was no appeal from the findings of a frontier jury."

  "It must have been an exciting life, that of the old frontier days,"commented Bert. "I guess nobody had to complain much of the monotony ofit."

  "Not so you could notice," replied Mr. Melton with a smile, "but therewasn't half as much shooting going on all the time as you might believefrom reading the current stories in the magazines dealing with the 'wildand woolly West.' Most everybody carried a gun, of course, but theyweren't used so very often. Every man knew that his neighbor wasprobably an expert in the use of his 'shooting irons,' too, so therewasn't much percentage in starting an argument. Most of the scraps thatdid occur would never have been started, if it hadn't been for theinfluence of 'red-eye,' as the boys used to call the vile brands ofwhiskey served out in the frontier saloons. That whiskey bit likevitriol, and a few glasses of it were enough to make any man take to thewar path."

  "I suppose you carried a gun in those days, too, didn't you, Mr.Melton?" questioned Dick.

  "Yes, I carried a pair of Colt's .45s with me for years," replied theWesterner, with a reminiscent look in his eyes. "Why, a couple of gunswere as much a part of a man's dress in those days as a pair of shoes.Every one carried them as a matter of course."

  "Did you ever have to use them?" asked Bert.

  "Only once," replied Mr. Melton. "I never went looking for trouble, andit has been my experience, when you don't look for trouble, troubleseldom looks for you. But the one time I did have use for my arsenalmade up for lost time."

  "Tell us about it, please," chorused the boys, and Mr. Melton smiled attheir eagerness as he lit another perfecto.

  "Well," he began, "it was back in the old days before the time of therailroads, when stage coaches were the only carriers known. I wastraveling to Fort Worth on business, and was finding the journeyanything but a pleasant one. The coach was old and rickety, and the wayit lurched and rolled reminded me of a small boat in a rough sea. It wasa terrifically hot day, too, and the stinging alkali dust got down yourthroat and in your eyes until life seemed an unbearable burden. We hadtraveled steadily all the morning, and along toward afternoon most ofthe passengers began to feel pretty sleepy, and dozed off. I was amongthe number. Suddenly I was awakened by a shout of 'hands up!' and foundmyself looking full into the muzzle of a blue barreled Colt, held in thehand of a masked man.

  "There was nothing for it but to obey, seeing he had the drop on us, soup went our hands over our heads. There were six other passengers in thecoach, but if we had been sixteen we would have been no better off.

  "As we gazed in a sort of fascination at the ugly-looking revolver,another masked man entered the coach and commenced systematically torelieve the passengers of their valuables. I happened to be nearest thefront of the coach, and so did not receive the benefit of his attentionsat first. He had almost reached me when there was a commotion outside,and he straightened up to listen, all his senses on the alert.

  "He was between me and the door in which his companion was standing. Forthe moment the man in the door could not get at me except through hiscomrade, and I resolved to grasp the opportunity. In a flash I hadreached down into the breast of my coat and grasped the butt of myrevolver. Before the desperado in front of me could get his gun inaction, I had fired. At the first shot he dropped to the ground and, ashe fell, a bullet from the man in the doorway took my hat off. I pulledthe trigger as fast as my fingers could work, and he did the same. Ihave only a confused recollection of smoke, flashes of flame, shouts anda dull shock in my left arm. In what must have been but a few seconds itwas all over. With my own gun empty, I waited to see what would happen.I knew that if by that time I hadn't killed the bandit, he had me at hismercy. And even with him disposed of, I fully expected to be plugged bythe man outside who was holding the driver under guard.

  "But he must have had a streak of yellow in him, for when he failed tosee either of his comrades come out of the coach he concluded that theywere either dead or prisoners, and made off as fast as his pony couldcarry him. By that time we passengers had rushed out of the coach, andsome of us began firing at the fugitive. But a revolver is not veryaccurate over two or three hundred feet, and I doubt if the desperadowas even grazed. I was unable to shoot for, as I had realized by thistime, my left arm was broken just above the elbow, and I was unable toload my gun.

  "Well, finding that we could not hope to harm the fugitive, we returnedto the coach. An examination of the two hold-ups showed that one, theman I had shot first, was dead. The other, who had guarded the door, wasbadly wounded and unconscious. One of the passengers had been boredthrough the shoulder by a stray bullet, but was not hurt seriously.

  "The driver bound up my arm after a fashion, and whipped up his horses.It was after dark before we reached Fort Worth though, and by that timemy arm was giving me a foretaste of what Hades must be. But there was agood doctor in the town, fortunately for me, and he fixed the arm up infine fashion. And, believe me, I felt lucky to get off as easy as that."

  "I should think you would," said Bert admiringly. "It must have takennerve to pull a gun under those conditions."

  "Well," replied Mr. Melton, "it was all on account of a watch I carriedat that time. It was one I had had for years, and thought a lot of. Theidea of losing that watch just made me desperate. I think if it hadn'tbeen for that I would never have taken the chance."

  "And what happened to the man you wounded?" asked Dick.

  "He gradually recovered," replied Mr. Melton. "The boys were going tohang him when he got well enough, but one night he broke jail and gotaway. They made up a posse and chased him through three counties, butnever caught him. I imagine, though, that his liking for hold-upssuffered a severe check."

  "Very likely,
" agreed Bert, "but I'm glad you saved the watch, anyway."

  "So am I," said Mr. Melton with a smile. "Here it is now, if you'd careto see it."

  He passed a handsome gold timepiece over to the boys, who admired itgreatly. Then the talk turned to other subjects, and before theyrealized it, it was time for them to go.

  Before leaving, however, they made Mr. Melton promise to visit thecollege the following afternoon. This he readily did, and the boys tooktheir departure after saying a hearty good night to their Westernfriend.