placed a foot upon the cellar stairs. The youth followedhim.
"What are you going to do?" asked the man.
"I am going with you," said the boy. "You think I am a coward because Iam afraid; but there is a vast difference between cowardice and fear."
The man made no reply as he resumed the descent of the stairs, flashingthe rays of the lamp ahead of him; but he pondered the boy's words andsmiled as he admitted mentally that it undoubtedly took more courageto do a thing in the face of fear than to do it if fear were absent.He felt a strange elation that this youth should choose voluntarily toshare his danger with him, for in his roaming life Bridge had known fewassociates for whom he cared.
The beams of the little electric lamp, moving from side to side,revealed a small cellar littered with refuse and festooned withcob-webs. At one side tottered the remains of a series of wooden racksupon which pans of milk had doubtless stood to cool in a long gone,happier day. Some of the uprights had rotted away so that a part of thefrail structure had collapsed to the earthen floor. A table with one legmissing and a crippled chair constituted the balance of the contents ofthe cellar and there was no living creature and no chain nor any othervisible evidence of the presence which had clanked so lugubriouslyout of the dark depths during the vanished night. The boy breatheda heartfelt sigh of relief and Bridge laughed, not without a note ofrelief either.
"You see there is nothing," he said--"nothing except some firewood whichwe can use to advantage. I regret that James is not here to attend me;but since he is not you and I will have to carry some of this stuffupstairs," and together they returned to the floor above, their armsladen with pieces of the dilapidated milk rack. The girl was awaitingthem at the head of the stairs while the two tramps whispered togetherat the opposite side of the room.
It took Bridge but a moment to have a roaring fire started in the oldstove in the kitchen, and as the warmth rolled in comforting waves aboutthem the five felt for the first time in hours something akin to reliefand well being. With the physical relaxation which the heat induced camea like relaxation of their tongues and temporary forgetfulness of theirantagonisms and individual apprehensions. Bridge was the only memberof the group whose conscience was entirely free. He was not 'wanted'anywhere, he had no unexpiated crimes to harry his mind, and with theresponsibilities of the night removed he fell naturally into his old,carefree manner. He hazarded foolish explanations of the uncanny noisesof the night and suggested various theories to account for the presenceand the mysterious disappearance of the dead man.
The General, on the contrary, seriously maintained that the weird soundshad emanated from the ghost of the murdered man who was, unquestionably,none other than the long dead Squibb returned to haunt his former home,and that the scream had sprung from the ghostly lungs of his slain wifeor daughter.
"I wouldn't spend anudder night in this dump," he concluded, "for boththem pockets full of swag The Oskaloosa Kid's packin' around."
Immediately all eyes turned upon the flushing youth. The girl and Bridgecould not prevent their own gazes from wandering to the bulging coatpockets, the owner of which moved uneasily, at last shooting a look ofdefiance, not unmixed with pleading, at Bridge.
"He's a bad one," interjected Dopey Charlie, a glint of cunning in hisordinarily glassy eyes. "He flashes a couple o' mitsful of sparklers,chesty-like, and allows as how he's a regular burglar. Then he pullsa gun on me, as wasn't doin' nothin' to him, and 'most croaks me. It'seven money that if anyone's been croaked in Oakdale last night theywon't have to look far for the guy that done it. Least-wise they won'thave to look far if he doesn't come across," and Dopey Charlie lookedmeaningly and steadily at the side pockets of The Oskaloosa Kid.
"I think," said Bridge, after a moment of general silence, "that youtwo crooks had better beat it. Do you get me?" and he looked from DopeyCharlie to The General and back again.
"We don't go," said Dopey Charlie, belligerently, "until we gets halfthe Kid's swag."
"You go now," said Bridge, "without anybody's swag," and he drew theboy's automatic from his side pocket. "You go now and you go quick--beatit!"
The two rose and shuffled toward the door. "We'll get you, you colledgeLizzy," threatened Dopey Charlie, "an' we'll get that phoney punk, too."
"'And speed the parting guest,'" quoted Bridge, firing a shot thatsplintered the floor at the crook's feet. When the two hoboes haddeparted the others huddled again close to the stove until Bridgesuggested that he and The Oskaloosa Kid retire to another room while thegirl removed and dried her clothing; but she insisted that it wasnot wet enough to matter since she had been covered by a robe in theautomobile until just a moment before she had been hurled out.
"Then, after you are warmed up," said Bridge, "you can step into thisother room while the kid and I strip and dry our things, for there's noquestion but that we are wet enough."
At the suggestion the kid started for the door. "Oh, no," he insisted;"it isn't worth while. I am almost dry now, and as soon as we get out onthe road I'll be all right. I--I--I like wet clothes," he ended, lamely.
Bridge looked at him questioningly; but did not urge the matter. "Verywell," he said; "you probably know what you like; but as for me, I'mgoing to pull off every rag and get good and dry."
The girl had already quitted the room and now The Kid turned andfollowed her. Bridge shook his head. "I'll bet the little beggar neverwas away from his mother before in his life," he mused; "why the merethought of undressing in front of a strange man made him turn red--andposing as The Oskaloosa Kid! Bless my soul; but he's a humorist--aregular, natural born one."
Bridge found that his clothing had dried to some extent during thenight; so, after a brisk rub, he put on the warmed garments and thoughsome were still a trifle damp he felt infinitely more comfortable thanhe had for many hours.
Outside the house he came upon the girl and the youth standing in thesunshine of a bright, new day. They were talking together in a mostanimated manner, and as he approached wondering what the two had foundof so great common interest he discovered that the discussion hingedupon the relative merits of ham and bacon as a breakfast dish.
"Oh, my heart it is just achin'," quoted Bridge,
"For a little bite of bacon,
"A hunk of bread, a little mug of brew;
"I'm tired of seein' scenery,
"Just lead me to a beanery
"Where there's something more than only air to
chew."
The two looked up, smiling. "You're a funny kind of tramp, to be quotingpoetry," said The Oskaloosa Kid, "even if it is Knibbs'."
"Almost as funny," replied Bridge, "as a burglar who recognizes Knibbswhen he hears him."
The Oskaloosa Kid flushed. "He wrote for us of the open road," hereplied quickly. "I don't know of any other class of men who shouldenjoy him more."
"Or any other class that is less familiar with him," retorted Bridge;"but the burning question just now is pots, not poetry--flesh pots. I'mhungry. I could eat a cow."
The girl pointed to an adjacent field. "Help yourself," she said.
"That happens to be a bull," said Bridge. "I was particular to mentioncow, which, in this instance, is proverbially less dangerous than themale, and much better eating.
"'We kept a-rambling all the time. I rustled grub, he rustled rhyme--
"'Blind baggage, hoof it, ride or climb--we always put it through.'Who's going to rustle the grub?"
The girl looked at The Oskaloosa Kid. "You don't seem like a tramp atall, to talk to," she said; "but I suppose you are used to asking forfood. I couldn't do it--I should die if I had to."
The Oskaloosa Kid looked uncomfortable. "So should--" he commenced, andthen suddenly subsided. "Of course I'd just as soon," he said. "You twostay here--I'll be back in a minute."
They watched him as he walked down to the road and until he disappearedover the crest of the hill a short distance from the Squibbs' house.
"I like him," sai
d the girl, turning toward Bridge.
"So do I," replied the man.
"There must be some good in him," she continued, "even if he is sucha desperate character; but I know he's not The Oskaloosa Kid. Do youreally suppose he robbed a house last night and then tried to kill thatDopey person?"
Bridge shook his head. "I don't know," he said; "but I am inclined tobelieve that he is more imaginative than
The Oakdale Affair Page 12
