Bert Wilson's Twin Cylinder Racer Part 14

"Couldn't help it, Cap," protested a man who entered the cabin, closely followed by four others. "Manuel had to hang around the telegraph office till the message came from Red Pete. The minute it came, we beat it lickety split and almost killed our hosses getting here."

The leader s.n.a.t.c.hed the held out telegram and read it eagerly while the five men, of the same desperate type as their captain, stood around ready to jump at his bidding. It was clear that they feared and cringed to him. His brute force and superior cunning combined with his evil reputation held them in complete subjection.

The telegram was brief and seemingly innocent:

"Mary leaves at ten. Meet her with carriage. Pleasant visit."

He drew from his pocket a sc.r.a.p of paper, evidently containing a key to the message. He compared it with the telegram, and a light of unholy glee came into his eyes.

"It's all right, boys," he said, his fierce demeanor softening somewhat.

"The Overland Limited will be at the water tank near Dorsey at three o'clock. There'll be forty thousand in the express messenger's safe.

It's up to us to make a rich haul and a quick getaway. Now listen to me," and with the swift decision that marks the born leader and that went far to explain his ascendancy over his men, he sketched out the plan of the coming robbery.

"You, Mike and Manuel, will attend to the engineer and fireman. First get their hands up over their heads. Then keep them covered and make them uncouple the engine and express car from the rest of the train and run up the track a half a mile or so. I'll see to the express messenger myself. He'll open that safe or I'll blow his head off and then break open the safe with dynamite. Joe and Bob and Ed will stay by the train and keep shooting off their guns, to cow the pa.s.sengers and trainmen while we get in our work. We won't have time to go through the cars, as it will be too near daylight, and we'll have to do some hard riding while it's dark. I hate to let the pa.s.sengers' coin and jewelry go, but we'll get enough from the express car to make up for that. Let your horses rest till twelve and then we'll saddle up and get to the water tank by two. Now you fellows know what you've got to do, and G.o.d help the man who makes a bad break. He'll have to reckon with me," and he laid his hand significantly on the handle of his knife.

There was an uneasy grin on the part of the men, and then they fell to discussing the details of the plan, while the bottle pa.s.sed freely from hand to hand.

Bert, who had listened breathlessly to the daring plot, was doing some rapid thinking. He had not the slightest idea where the water tank was located. It might be east, west, north or south, as far as he knew.

But what he did know was that it behooved him to get away from that dangerous locality at the earliest possible moment. His life would not have been worth much if he had been discovered before they had discussed the robbery. Now that he was in possession of the details, it would be worth absolutely nothing. A killing more or less made no difference to these abandoned outlaws, and they would have shot him with as little concern as they would a prairie dog.

Then, too, the alarm ought to be given at once. By riding into the night, he would have a chance of reaching some town and getting into touch with the railroad authorities, by wire or phone. Or he might run across some one familiar with the country who could guide him. Anything was better than inaction. Theft and murder were in the air, and every pa.s.sing moment made them more probable. He might break his neck, collide with a rock or a tree, ride over a precipice in the dark. But he had to take a chance. Danger had never yet turned him from the path of duty. It should not daunt him now.

CHAPTER XIV

THE OUTLAW PLOT

Slowly, carefully, hardly venturing to breathe, he backed away from the cabin. He got outside the zone of light and felt for his motorcycle.

With the utmost caution not to touch the horn or siren, he guided it in a wide semicircle down the slope. One of the horses whinnied as he pa.s.sed and an outlaw appeared at the door. After listening for a moment, while Bert stood like a stone image in his track, the man, evidently satisfied, turned and went inside.

Then Bert moved on again by inches until he reached the edge of the woods. From there he knew that the faint click made by the valves in starting could not possibly be heard from above. He drew a long breath and for the first time turned his gaze toward the sky. He was rejoiced to find that the clouds had vanished and that the deep blue was sown with stars. He needed no compa.s.s now. There was the gleaming Polar Star by which he had often guided his course as unerringly as by the sun. He paused a moment to get a direction due west. Then he leaped into the saddle and was off.

Not until he was sure that he was beyond the sight of any possible watcher from the cabin, did he dismount and light his lamp. Then with the confidence that came from the light streaming far ahead of him, he threw in the clutch and let his machine out to the limit.

He had ridden perhaps twenty miles, looking anxiously about for the lights of a town, when at some distance he saw the flames from a campfire in the lee of a bluff far away to his right. He could see a group of men, some moving about, others stretched out near the fire apparently asleep. Mindful of his previous experience, he put out his light and glided toward them like a shrouded ghost.

Stopping outside the circle of light, where he could study the scene at his leisure, he counted a dozen men. They were strapping fellows, rough in dress and appearance, but with honest, fearless faces. One of them wore a badge that stamped him as an official of some kind, and he was evidently in command of the party. Bert hesitated no longer, but, mounting, rode slowly into the firelight.

There was a gasp of wonder at his appearance, and the men who were still awake sprang to their feet with their hands on their pistol b.u.t.ts. A second glance, however, as Bert waved his hand in friendly fas.h.i.+on, disarmed them and they came hastily forward.

"Well, stranger," said the man with the badge, "you came in on us rather sudden like and we was plumb surprised for a minute. You seem to be all right though, and that machine of yours is certainly some beaut. We're more used to riding four-legged things, though. We don't ask anything about a man's business out here unless we happen to have some particular business with him," and he touched his star. "So you can tell us nothing or as much as you like. As to me I ain't got any secrets as to whom I am. I'm the sheriff of Wentworth County and this here is my posse."

"Just the man I'd rather see at this minute than any one else in the world," exclaimed Bert, delightedly. And then, in words that tumbled over one another in their haste, he told them who he was, how he had been lost on the prairie and of his adventure near the cabin of "Billy the Kid."

At the mention of that notorious name the sheriff fairly jumped. "What!"

he shouted. "Billy the Kid and his gang? They're the fellows we're out for now. Here, boys," he yelled, "get busy. We're on a fresh trail and we'll bag the hull bunch before daylight."

Instantly the camp was alive with excitement. Horses were untethered and saddled, and within five minutes the posse was ready to start. Bert had given hurriedly the details of the plot and the sheriff's campaign was quickly planned. He knew every foot of the surrounding country and he headed his troop straight as the crow flies for Dorsey, the little town, beyond which lay the tank where the Limited would slow down to take water. His line of march was shorter than that of the outlaws, and besides, they had not planned to leave the cabin before midnight.

He could count on getting there first and having time to make his dispositions for the round-up of the gang.

"Well, son," he said, with a warm grip of the hand, when they were ready to start, "I sure owe you a lot for this tip. This country's going to sleep a heap sight better when they know these fellows have dangled from the end of a rope. But how about you, now? I'll send one of my men along with you to Lonsdale, if you like. That's fifteen mile west of here and on the line of road you're traveling."

"No, thanks," replied Bert promptly, "I'm going with you, if you'll have me."

"Going with us," echoed the sheriff in surprise. "Of course, I'm glad to have you. But that gang is 'bad medicine' and there's goin' to be some shooting. You ain't got no call to mix in, 'cept of your own free will."

"Sure, I know," said Bert. "I'm going along."

"Son," exclaimed the sheriff, extending his hand, "put her thar. I'm proud to know you. You're the real stuff, all wool and a yard wide. Come along."

A word of command and they clattered off, Bert keeping alongside of the leader. He was thrilling with excitement. The primitive emotions had him in their grip. A little while before, he had been in the conventional world of law and order and civilization. Now, he was seeing life "in the raw." A battle was imminent, and here he was riding to the battlefield over the prairies at midnight under the silent stars. The blood coursed violently through his veins and his heart beat high with pa.s.sion for the fight. That he himself was running the risk of wounding and death was only an added stimulus. For the moment he was a "cave man," like his ancestors in the morning of the world, stealing forth from their lair for a raid against their enemies. Later on, when cooler, he would a.n.a.lyze and wonder at these emotions. But now, he yielded to them, and the time seemed long before the little cavalcade swept through the sleeping town of Dorsey, and then, at a more slow and careful pace, made their way to the water tank below the station.

As they came nearer, they dismounted and led their horses to a clump of trees on the eastern side of the tank and a half a mile away. Two men were left in charge, with orders to strap the horses' jaws together, so that they could not neigh and thus betray their masters. It was figured that the outlaws would approach from the west, and the members of the posse disposed themselves in a wide semicircle, so that, at a given signal, they could surround and overpower the robbers. If possible, they were to capture them alive so that they could answer to justice for their crimes. But, alive or dead, they were to "get" them. And as Bert looked on the stern, determined faces of his companions, he had no doubt of the outcome of the struggle.

After they had taken their places, lying flat on the ground with such shelter as a bush or cactus plant afforded, there was a considerable wait that was more trying to the nerves than actual fighting. Bert and the sheriff were close together, but, except for an occasional whisper, neither spoke. They were busy with their thoughts and intent on the approaching fray.

Perhaps an hour had elapsed before they heard the distant tramp of horses. Soon they could see half a dozen men approaching, their figures dimly outlined in the starlight. The grip of the watchers tightened on their pistol b.u.t.ts as they strained their eyes to get a better view of their quarry.

Then silence fell again. A half hour went by. Suddenly a faint whistle was heard in the distance, the ground began to tremble and a great headlight swung into view, far up the track. It was the road's crack train, the Overland Limited. The moment was at hand.

With a terrific rumbling and clanking and ringing of bells, the ponderous train slowed down at the tank. The fireman was already on the tender, ready to slew over the pipe that would bring a cataract of water down into the reservoir. Just as he reached for it, there was a fusillade of shots. Two masked men covered the startled engineer and fireman with their revolvers and ordered them to hold up their hands.

Another hammered at the door of the express car and commanded the messenger to open, on pain of instant death. Farther down the train other shots rang out and windows were shattered by bullets to warn pa.s.sengers to stay inside.

But just then came a diversion. With a yell and a rush the sheriff and his men swept down upon the astonished outlaws, firing as they came. The bandits were caught like rats in a trap. They were the center of a ring of flame, but they fought back savagely. There were cries and curses, as men emptied their revolvers and then clinched in deadly struggle. The bandit leader, leaving the express car, plunged headlong into the fight, battling like a fiend. When his revolver was empty he flung it into the sheriff's face and made a break for his horse. But Bert was too quick for him, and tackled him, just as he had put one foot in the stirrup and was swinging the other over his mount. With a mighty wrench he dragged him from the saddle. The "Kid" uttered a fearful oath and reached for his knife. Bert's hands closed around his throat and they went to the ground rolling over and over like two panthers.

At gun or knife play the outlaw would have been the victor. But in this hand-to-hand struggle, Bert was easily his master. His tremendous strength, reinforced by clean living and athletic training, soon triumphed over the rum-soaked body of the "Kid." But the latter's ferocity was appalling, and Bert had to choke him almost into unconsciousness, before his muscles relaxed and he lay there limp and gasping.

As Bert rose, breathless but victorious, he saw that the fight was over.

Two of the outlaws were dead and another fatally wounded. The other two were in the hands of their captors, and the sheriff coming up, snapped handcuffs on the "Kid" and jerked him to his feet.

Pa.s.sengers and trainmen came pouring from the cars, and there was a Babel of excited questionings. The conductor, full of relief and grat.i.tude at his train's escape from looting, offered to carry the party to the next town on the line. But the sheriff elected to take his prisoners across country to the county seat, and after another exchange of congratulations, the train moved on.

Then the triumphant posse, with one of its members severely, another slightly wounded, took up their homeward trip. They had made one of the most important captures in the history of the State, and the next day the country would be ringing with their praises. They were naturally jubilant, and the sheriff urged Bert earnestly to come with them as the real hero of the roundup. But he stoutly refused and the only favor he would accept was the loan of a guide to take him over to Lonsdale.

"Well," said the sheriff at last reluctantly, "I suppose you know your own business best, but I sh.o.r.e am sorry to say good-bye. You've made an awful hit with me, son. That was a lovely sc.r.a.p you put up with the 'Kid,' and I've never seen a prettier bit of rough housing. I hope you win your race and I believe you will. Anybody that can put one over on 'Billy the Kid' can pretty near get anything he goes after. If ever you're looking for work," he joked, "come out to Wentworth County and I'll make you a.s.sistant sheriff. Perhaps, though, you'd better not," and his eyes twinkled, "cause it wouldn't be long before you'd have my job."

CHAPTER XV

A MURDEROUS GRIP

Bert was having his first glimpse of the sea since he started on his trip. He was weary of the land which he had traversed so swiftly and steadily for two weeks past. The impression stamped upon his brain was that of an endless ribbon of road, between whose edges his motorcycle had sped along, until he seemed like a living embodiment of perpetual motion. That ribbon had commenced to unwind at the eastern end of the continent, and there were still a good many miles to be reeled off before the race was ended. But now, as he sat on the veranda of the beach hotel facing the sea whose surf broke on the sands a hundred feet away, he could feel his weariness dropping away like a cast-off garment.

The tang of the ocean was a tonic that filled him with new life, and his nostrils dilated as they drew in great draughts of the salt air.