“Nor three leagues—”
“One league then, gosh blame it!”
“That’s better.”
“Waal, we sighted her b’arin’ down on us.”
“And then?” asked Jack, smilingly.
Why, we let her git right up ter us, thinkin’ she had a easy wictim. Then we turned on her to fire, an’ blow her ter pieces. Wot wuz our horror ter find as our powder got so wet we couldn’t use it. Bein’ as ther guns wuz useless, wot did we do? Perpared ter board ther lubber. Up ter her we dashed. Over flew ther grapplin’ irons.
“On her deck swarmed her crew. Down in her hold they chased ther pirates. But that wuz only a ruse on thar part. As soon’s our crew went below, up came ther lubbers through ther hatch, an’ fastened our marines down in ther hold. They wuz prisoners. I alone wuz lef aboard ther Wabash. Seein’ ‘em makin’ a rush fer our deck I grabbed a ax an’ cut ther grapplin’s. We drifted apart afore they could board ther frigate. Seein’ as all wuz lost onless I licked ther swabs, I manned ther guns an’ gave ‘em broadside ar ter broadside. I smashed thar ship ter pieces. She went down never ter rise again. Most o’ her crew wuz killed. Them wot wuzn’t swum on ther sea. Then I amused myself firin’ shots at thar heads. I took ‘em off as clean as a whistle every time I let ‘em have it. In jest four minutes by ther clock they was all gone. Turnin’ ter my messmates—”
“Confined in the pirate’s hold, they all went to the bottom with the ship,” said Jack, quietly.
“I–oh–ouch!”
“The powder was so wet you couldn’t use it. But in spite of this you did some remarkably good shooting, didn’t you, Tim?”
“Wha’–wha–what d’yer mean?” feebly stammered the old sailor.
“Just what you said,” laughed Jack.
“I must a fergot about sayin’ that.”
“Very likely. Will you acknowledge now that I’ve got you?”
“Ay, ay. There’s no help for it.”
“In a big lie?”
“But, my lad—”
“Tell the truth once in your life!”
“Waal, I owns up,” groaned Tim.
It was a severe hardship to do it.
But there was no help for him, he realized.
Jack burst into a hearty peal of laughter.
The sheriff and the Dutchman, inside the stage, had heard all that passed, and they fairly yelled over Tim’s discomfiture.
“Nipped that time, Tim,” laughed Timberlake.
“Shiminey Christmas, ditn’d he got it by der neck!” grinned Fritz.
“Tell as the rest of the yarn, Tim.”
“Yah. Ve vos litsten,” added Fritz.
“Awast yer lubbers!” growled the old fellow, sourly.
They might have chaffed him considerably more, but just then Jack interrupted them with the startled exclamation:
“Hark, boys!”
“Vos iss?” eagerly asked Fritz.
“Horses’ hoofs coming!”
“Ay, ay, I hears ‘em!” said Tim.
“There’s a wagon, too,” the sheriff added.
The sound was rapidly approaching along the road.
All listened intently, and soon distinguished the steady pounding of hoofs and the rumble of wheels.
A few moments later they caught view of two bright lamps on the vehicle, shining ahead, with a steady glow, through the falling rain drops.
“That looks like a stage,” muttered Jack, “but we will know positively in a moment more.”
*
CHAPTER XII.
THE FIGHT IN THE CANYON.
“Halt! Who goes there?”
“Oh, Lor’! what’s this?”
“Is that the Independence stage?”
“Yes. Don’t shoot! I cave!”
“Ah! do not alarm yourselves; we are friends.”
Jack turned on the search-light as he spoke and beheld four horses pulling an old fashioned yellow stage coach, on each side of which burned two lamps.
Upon the box sat an old jehu, Sandy Ellis by name, who had driven that vehicle for quarter of a century over that route.
He was a gray-whiskered old fellow, with a bony face and a long red nose, and his stage contained half a dozen people, who were excitedly discussing the stoppage and the meaning of that brilliant electric light.
“For the Lord’s sake, boy, what’s that you’ve got there–the sun?”
“Only an electric search-light,” laughed Jack.
“But where’s your team?”
“Don’t need any for this electric stage.”
“What’s that–a sort of a trolley car?”
“Yes, without the overhead pole and wire.”
“Thunderation! this beats everything! What do you want?”
“I wish to protect you from the James Boys.”
“Say, now, is them varmints around?”
“Laying for this stage,”
“Wow!” gasped Sandy. “That’s terrible, so it is!”
Jack gave all hands an account of what happened, and when he finished the stage passengers were in a cold sweat.
They wanted to turn right back.
But Jack wouldn’t allow this.
“I ain’t sure whether they’re ahead or behind us,” said he. “At any rate you can’t turn back now.”
“But they may kill us!” said a fat man in the stage.
“They’re bound to rob as anyway,” asserted a man with a valise filed with genuine diamond jewelry samples.
“That depends entirely upon all hands present,” said Jack. “Are all of you armed?”
Every one but a woman in the stage assented, and Sandy pulled out a big navy revolver from his boot leg, and remarked:
“You can just gamble on it I am.”
“Any of you afraid to fight, if it became necessary?”
“I’d rather not if I could avoid It,” replied a thin fellow, with a hacking cough. “Fighting isn’t my fort.”
“Waal, I guess you’ll pull a trigger if you saw a gang of masked bandits trying to bore a hole in your head.”
“I fancy I would.”
“That’s settled then. Now you see my stage?”
“Yes, and a queer one she is!” commented Sandy.
“She is bullet proof. I propose that as she is safer than your ramshackle old wooden affair, all hands get inside of her, and let me carry you through.”
“But what about my horses?” asked Sandy.
“Hitch them on to this vehicle. Throw those rubbers over my stage to hide her outline. You can also put your lamps on here and drive for us. That will draw the bandits from cover. My friends are all armed and ready to fire the moment they show their noses.”
Every one but the lady liked the plan.
She, of course, was averse to fighting of any kind.
As there was no way out of their dilemma, and Jack’s offer gave promise of protecting them from robbery and, perhaps, death, every-one got into the Terror.
The lamps and horses were transferred.
“You can leave the stage here,” said Jack to Sandy.
“No one will molest it until you return for it to-morrow.”
“Are you pretty sure about them there James Boys?”
“Decidedly, or I wouldn’t have troubled myself to do this for you,” replied Jack.
“Well, it would do no harm, even if we are disappointed about meeting them,” said the old driver.
They had been obliged to tie the traces to the Terror, but there was no pull on them as Sandy had only to keep his horses trotting while Jack made the machine run itself.
Owing to the gloom of the night, the rubbers on the body of the Terror, the horses, lamps and driver any one would have imagined it was the regular old stage coach.
The people inside talked in low tones and every man aboard held his weapon ready for use.
Down pattered the rain drops with a monotonous sound, and the hoofs of the four horses splashed u
p the muddy water from the puddles in the road and beat on the hard ground with the regularity of clockwork.
They rattled along in this manner for quarter of an hour and ran from the regular road into a dark canyon.
Here the walls towered up hundreds of feet.
It was a very gloomy place.
“We must be pretty near the ledge road now, ain’t we?” Jack asked.
“Yes; in five minutes this ‘ere canyon will swing us out on it,” replied Sandy. “That’s where we’re to look for them, ain’t it?”
“Yes–if not sooner—”
“Hark! D’you hear that?”
Jack listened intently.
The wind was howling over the crags.
All the trees and bushes were loudly rustling.
But it was not this that attracted the driver’s attention.
Jack quickly caught the sound of pattering hoofs coming toward the vehicle from both sides.
Then a stentorian voice roared out:
“Halt!”
“What–me!” shouted Sandy.
“Yes–you!” came the reply.
And at the same moment Jesse James, mounted on his wonderful coal black steed, Siroc, dashed up beside the stage.
He was followed by his entire band.
Although he and the rest were masked, Jack knew his voice at once, and shrank back to conceal his features in the collar of his rubber coat, which was turned up around his neck.
In a moment the whole gang was about the Terror.
Sandy reined in his horses.
Then he growled:
“What do you want?”
“Throw up your hands!”
“No, I won’t! You’re thieves!”
“Obey, or I’ll blow your head off.”
This order was accompanied by the click of a pistol, and it was poked over toward the old driver’s face.
Sandy dropped the reins, and Jack stopped the Terror.
This was no sooner done when two of the bandits cut the traces, and delivering the horses a blow, sent them galloping away.
“Oh, Lor’! There goes my nags!” roared Sandy.
“Shut up, and hand over your valuables.”
“Ain’t got none!” roared the old driver.
“Give me some light, boys, and we’ll go through the passengers.”
The next moment a dozen dark lanterns in the hands of the horsemen flashed out upon the Terror.
They recognized her instantly.
“Duped!” yelled Jesse. “It’s the electric stage!”
“Fire, boys!” shouted Jack.
A deadly volley was poured from within the Terror, and many a yell of pain from the outlaws plainly told how effective some of them had been.
They dashed their lanterns to the ground and galloped off.
But that did no good.
Jack turned on the search-light.
Its broad glare brightly lit up the canyon, and they saw the bandits galloping ahead of them.
“Give it to them again!” cried Jack.
The inmates of the Terror let drive a second volley.
Crack, bang!
Crack, bang!
Crack, bang!
Shot after shot pealed out.
Jesse James never was more furious.
He yelled at his men, and then screamed:
“Fire back! Obey, or I’ll fire at you yourselves!”
“By thunder, this was a surprise!” groaned Frank.
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
Bang! went the shots fired by the gang.
A storm of bullets flew back at the stage.
Poor old Sandy Ellis suffered death for his temerity.
A bullet struck him in the breast, and he uttered a groan and fell to the ground, never to rise again.
“They’ve killed Sandy!” cried Jack.
His words aroused the rage of the inmates of the Terror.
“B’ar down on ther pirates!” gasped Tim.
Jack sent the machine racing after the bandits.
There was one of the masked riders directly in front of the Terror, and the villain turned in his saddle, aimed a revolver point-blank at Jack, and was just upon the point of firing when the ram struck his horse.
It toppled the bandit from the animal’s back, his pistol was discharged, the ball flew up in the air, and the horse was impaled and killed.
As the Terror pushed ahead, the two front wheels ran over the bandit’s neck, almost putting an end to him.
Back recoiled the stage, the ram was withdrawn from the horse, and then she dashed ahead again in hot pursuit of the gang who all rode like fury now, to escape.
As they plunged ahead, the inmates of the stage kept up a pitiless fusillade of shots against the flying outlaws.
*
CHAPTER XIII.
THE STRANDED COUNTRYMAN.
“We can’t run any further!”
“Gee whiz, lad, then ther bandits’ll escape!”
“I can’t help that, Tim; there’s something the matter.”
The Terror had scarcely emerged from the canyon, when the lights suddenly went out, the machinery ceased to work, and the electric stage came to an abrupt pause.
All the bandits had been seen bunched far ahead, going down the slope at a breakneck pace.
When the light went out they vanished.
That was the last our friends saw of them that night, and every one began to bombard Jack with questions.
“What’s the matter?”
“Can’t you go ahead?”
“Do you want them to escape?”
“What are you stopping for?”
These and similar questions assailed the inventor.
He almost lost patience with them, as he cried:
The machinery for some reason has broken down.
“Vat vos pusted–dot trifin’ rod!” asked Fritz.
“I don’t know yet, but I’ll find out.”
“Here,” said Timberlake, “take one of the stage coach lanterns.”
Jack alighted with Fritz, and they made a critical examination of the machinery situated on the outside of the Terror.
But they failed to find the cause of the mishap there.
Then they went inside to look.
Nor was anything broken here.
Jack was intensely puzzled.
“What does this mean anyway?” he muttered. “I can’t find a solitary thing the matter with her.”
“Dot peat me!” replied Fritz, scratching his head.
“With electrical machinery, which is one of the simplest things in the world, one ought to see at a glance any derangement,” said Jack, “But I can’t understand where the trouble is now.”
“Let’s look ofer it agin,” suggested the Dutchman.
It was done.
The second examination was as fruitless as the first, and they were left as much in the dark as they had been before. Half an hour was thus lost.
Some of the stage passengers in the meantime went back into the canyon with a spade and the other lamp.
They found Sandy Ellis’ body.
He was dead.
They buried him.
When they returned Jack said:
“I wonder if the dynamo spring can be broken?”
“See,” suggested Fritz.
Jack opened the box.
One glance was enough.
“Well, if we haven’t been fools!” he exclaimed.
“Vos iss now?” asked the Dutchman.
“The spring has only run down and needs winding.”
Every one burst out laughing now that the threatened gravity of the situation resolved itself into a comedy of error.
Jack wound up the spring.
Everyone got aboard and the lights blazed up under Jack’s management, the machinery began to work, and the Terror ran ahead again without any trouble.
The delay had given the bandits a chance to escape.
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Upon reaching the nearest settlement Jack left the people there whom he had rescued, and the Terror continued on her way.
On the following morning the rain ceased.
Breakfast was partaken of and then Jack said:
“Although we have created some mischief in the James Boys ranks, we have not yet done anything to bring the two ringleaders to justice. Nor have I gained a cent of the money stolen from the Wrightstown Bank.”
“I have warned you what a slippery cuss Jesse is.” said Timberlake, “Now you have seen some samples of it.”
“He certainly is a pretty shrewd fellow.”
“But whar is we ter look fer him!” asked Tim.
“He has no regular haunt,” replied the sheriff.
“Den ve only by plind luck must go?”
“I’m afraid so, Fritz,” assented Timberlake. “However, since he has started upon his raids again, he won’t stop now until he makes a big haul. Then he is liable to divide with the gang, disband for a while, and seek safety in flight to some other section of the country until his funds are exhausted.”
“Like most criminals, though,” said Jack, “I see that he has the same hankering after the place where most of his villainy is practiced.”
“All outlaws have a series of habits exactly like, as far as my experience has taught me,” said the sheriff.
“When I wuz in ther navy,” began Tim, “I once—”
Biff! came Fritz’s fingers down on the back of his neck.
What he was going to say was choked off.
Then Fritz rushed him into the next room.
There he jammed the sailor and banged the door shut.
“Dot seddles him!” he chuckled.
As the door was locked they were spared the affliction of hearing another of Tim’s awful yarns for the time being.
The Terror scoured the surrounding country for a week after that, but nothing was seen of the bandits.
It was then decided to run to Independence and try to get some information from the authorities there by means of which they could locate the gang.
According to this programme, the sheriff gave Tim the direction, and the old sailor steered the stage on her way.
It was then very late in the afternoon.
They followed a country road, and passing several wayfarers, the appearance of the Terror caused them the most intense astonishment.
A few miles along the road they caught sight of an old fellow in a wagon loaded with grain.
He looked like a farmer.
There was no horse hitched to the vehicle.
Jack Wright and His Electric Stage Page 7
