The Young Bank Messenger
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They were in no hurry. They stopped to hunt and fish, and when the weather was unfavorable they stayed overnight at some wayside cabin. When the nights were fine they camped out, and enjoyed a sound rest under the open canopy of heaven.
Part of their way led through woods and over prairies, but here and there they came to a thriving village. There was little occasion to spend money, but still they were compelled to use some.
One day–it was some weeks from the time when they started–Luke turned to Ernest with a sober face.
"Ernest," he said, "I think you'll have to leave me at the next poor-house."
"Why, Luke?"
"Because my money is nearly all gone. I started with fifteen dollars. Now I have but one."
"But I have plenty left."
"That doesn't help me."
"I want to share it with you, Luke."
"Don't you remember what I said when we set out, lad?"
"What was it?"
"That I would not touch a dollar of your money."
"Then do you mean to leave me alone, Luke?" pleaded Ernest reproachfully.
"You are a boy and I am a man. I'm forty years old, Ernest. Is it right that I should live on a boy less than half my age?"
Ernest looked at him in perplexity.
"Is there no way of getting more money?" he asked.
"If we were in California now, and at the mines, I might make shift to fill my purse; but there are no mines hereabouts."
"Let us keep on, and something may turn up."
When this conversation took place they were approaching Emmonsville, a thriving town in Nebraska. As they walked through the principal street, it was clear that something had happened which had created general excitement. Groups of people were talking earnestly, and their faces wore a perturbed and anxious look.
"What's the matter?" asked Luke, addressing a well-to-do appearing man.
"Haven't you heard of the bank robbery over at Lee's Falls?"
"No."
"Two men, fully armed, rode up to the door, and, dismounting, entered the bank. One stepped up to the window of the paying teller, and covering him with his revolver, demanded five thousand dollars. At the same time the other stood in the doorway, also with a loaded revolver."
"Why didn't the teller shoot him down?" asked Luke.
"My friend, bank officers are not provided with loaded revolvers when on duty. Besides, the ruffian had the drop on him."
"Well?" asked Luke.
"What could the teller do? Life is more than money, and he had no alternative. The fellow got the money."
"Did he get away with it?"
"Yes; they both mounted their horses and rode off, no one daring to interfere. Each held his revolver in readiness to shoot the first man that barred his way."
"Where did you say this happened?"
"At Lee's Falls."
"Is it near at hand?"
"It is fifteen miles away."
"But why should that robbery create excitement here?"
"Because we have a bank here, and we are expecting a visit from the same parties."
"Who are they?"
"They are supposed to be the Fox brothers, two of the most notorious criminals in the West. Numberless stories are told of their bold robberies, both from individuals and from banks."
"How long have these fellows been preying upon the community?"
"We have heard of them hereabouts for three years. It is said they came from Missouri."
"Is there no one brave enough or bold enough to interfere with them?"
"More than one has tried it, but no one has succeeded. Twice they were captured by a posse of men, but in each case they broke jail before it was time for the trial.
"It seems to me you haven't many men of spirit in Nebraska."
"Perhaps you think you would be a match for them," said the citizen in a sarcastic tone.
Luke Robbins smiled and handled his revolver in a significant way.
"If you think you can kill or capture them, stranger, there's a chance to make a good sum of money."
"How is that?"
"A thousand dollars is offered for either, dead or alive."
"A thousand dollars!" repeated Luke, his face glowing with excitement. "Is that straight?"
"It will be paid cheerfully. You can bet on that."
"Who offers it?"
"The Governor of the State."
Luke Robbins became thoughtful and remained silent.
"Did you hear that, lad?" he asked, when he and Ernest were alone.
"Yes, Luke."
"A thousand dollars would do us a great deal of good."
"That is true, Luke, but it would be as much as your life is worth to hunt the rascals."
"Don't try to make a coward of me, Ernest."
"I couldn't do that, Luke. I only want you to be prudent."
"Listen, lad. I want that thousand dollars, and I'm going to make a try for it. Come along with me."
"Where are you going?"
"To the bank. I'm going to have a talk with the officers, and then I'll decide what to do."
CHAPTER VIII.
THE QUAKER DETECTIVE
At the Emmonsville bank they were on their guard. The expectation of a visit from the Fox brothers caused anxiety and apprehension. The evil reputation of these men, and their desperate character, made them formidable.
When Luke Robbins entered the place he was regarded with suspicion. His hunting-costume was not unlike that of a bandit. But the fact that he had a young companion tended to disarm suspicion. No one could suspect Ernest of complicity with outlaws, and the Fox brothers had never been known to carry a boy with them.
Luke was unused to banks. So far as he knew, he had never entered one before. He looked around him in uncertainty, and finally approached the window of the receiving teller.
"Are you the boss of this institution?" he asked.
The teller smiled.
"No," he said. "Perhaps you want to see the president?"
"I guess he's the man."
"If you will give me a hint of the nature of your business, I will speak to him."
"I hear you're expectin' a visit from the Fox brothers."
"Have you anything to do with them?" asked the teller with some suspicion.
"I want to have something to do with them," returned Luke.
"I don't understand you."
"Then I'll tell you what I mean. I hear there's a big reward out for their capture."
"A thousand dollars."
"I want that thousand dollars, and I want it bad."
"I shall be very glad if you become entitled to it. Any one who will rid the State of either of these notorious outlaws will richly deserve it."
"That's the business I came about. Now can I see the president, if that's what you call him?"
"Wait a minute and I will find out."
The teller went to an inner room, and returned with a stout, gray-headed man of about fifty.
He looked curiously at Luke through the window. Then, as if reassured, he smiled.
"I understand you want to see me," he said.
"Yes."
"About the Fox brothers?"
"You're right there, squire."
"Go to the last door and I will admit you."
Luke Robbins did as directed, and soon found himself in the office of the president of the bank.
"You are anxious to secure the reward offered for the capture of these outlaws, I believe."
"That's straight."
"Why do you come to me, then?"
"Because a man told me you expected a visit from them."
"That is not quite exact. I don't expect a visit, but I am afraid they may take it into their heads to call here."
"Suppose they do."
A shade of anxiety appeared upon the face of the president.
"We should try to foil their plans," he answered.
"Wouldn't you like to have me on hand when they come?"
The president looked over Luke Robbins carefully. He was impressed by his bold, resolute air, and muscular figure. Evidently he would be a dangerous man to meet.
"You are a strong, resolute fellow, I judge," he said thoughtfully.
"Try me and see."
"You would not be afraid to meet these villains single-handed?"
"I never saw the man yet that I was afraid to meet."
"So far, so good, but it is not so much strength that is needed as quickness. A weak man is more than a match for a strong one if he gets the drop on him."
"That's so, but I reckon it'll take a smart man to get the drop on me.
"What have you to propose? I suppose you have formed some plan."
"I would like to stay around the bank, and be on the watch for these fellows."
"Remain here and I will consult with the cashier."
Five minutes later the president rejoined his visitor.
"I have no objection to securing your services," he said, "if it can be done without exciting suspicion. In your present dress your mission would at once be guessed, and the outlaws would be on their guard. Have you any objection to changing your appearance?"
"Not a particle. All I want is to get a lick at them outlaws."
"Then I think we shall have to make you a little less formidable. Have you any objections to becoming a Quaker?"
Luke Robbins laughed.
"What! one of those broad-brimmed fellows?" he said.
"Yes."
"Will I look the character?"
"Dress will accomplish a good deal. I will tell you what put the idea into my head. We used to employ as janitor an old Quaker–a good, honest, reliable man. He was about your build. A year since he died, but we have hanging up in my office the suit he was accustomed to wear. Put it on, and it will make a complete change in your appearance. Your face will hardly correspond to your dress, but those who see the garb won't look any further."
"That's all right, boss. I don't care how you dress me up. But what will I do?"
"I think it will be well for you to keep near the bank, watching carefully all who approach. You never saw the Fox brothers, I presume?"
"I never had that pleasure."
"Most people don't regard it as a pleasure. I will give you some description of them, which may help you to identify them. One is a tall man, very nearly as tall as yourself; the other is at least three inches shorter. Both have dark hair, which they wear long. They have a swaggering walk, and look their real characters."
"I don't think it'll be hard to spot them. They generally ride on horseback, don't they?"
"Generally, but not always. They rode into Lee's Falls and up to the bank entrance on horseback. Perhaps for that reason they may appear in different guise here."
"You haven't any pictures of them, have you?"
The president laughed.
"No one was ever bold enough to invite them into a photographer's to have their pictures taken," he said.
"I see. Well, I think I shall know them."
"Perhaps not. They often adopt disguises."
"They won't come as Quakers?"
"That is hardly likely. I can give you one help. However they may be dressed, their eyes will betray them. They have flashing black ones, and sharp, aquiline noses."
"I'll know them," said Luke confidently.
"I observe that you have a boy with you?
"Yes."
"Is it your son?"
"No; I wish he were. I'd be proud to have such a son as that."
"Perhaps we can use him. The bank messenger–a young man–is sick, and he can take his place temporarily."
"Is there any pay for such work?"
"Yes, but it is small. We will give him ten dollars a week. Of course he must be honest and trustworthy."
"I'll stake my life on that boy, boss," said Luke warmly.
"His appearance is in his favor. Will you call him?"
Ernest was waiting in the doorway. He was anxious to learn the result of Luke's interview with the president of the bank. He had thought it very doubtful whether his proposal would be looked upon favorably, but hoped some good might come of it.
"The boss wants to see you," announced Luke.
"All right; I will follow you. What luck are you meeting with, Luke?"
"Good. I've hired out to the bank as a Quaker detective."
Ernest stared at his companion in astonishment. He thought it was a joke.
When he came into the presence of the president the latter said, "I understand from your friend here that you would like employment?"
"I should," answered Ernest promptly.
"The post of bank messenger is temporarily vacant. Would you like it?"
"Yes, sir, if you think I can fill it."
"You are rather young for the place, but I think you will fill it satisfactorily. We will instruct you in the duties."
"Very well, sir; I accept it with thanks."
"Of course it is necessary that you should be honest and reliable. But upon those points I have no doubt. Your face speaks for you."
"Thank you, sir. When do you wish me to begin my duties?"
"To-morrow. I suppose you are not as yet provided with a boarding-place. You can get settled to-day, and report at the bank to-morrow morning at nine."
"Wait here a minute, Ernest," said Luke. "I will join you at once."
When Luke emerged from the president's room he was attired in the Quaker costume of his predecessor. Ernest stared at him for a moment, then burst into a loud laugh.
"Why does thee laugh?" asked Luke mildly.
This sent Ernest into a second convulsion.
"Do I look like a man of peace?" asked Luke.
"Yes; shall you live up to the character?"
"Until I see the Fox brothers. Then the lamb will become a lion."
CHAPTER IX.
AN ARMED ESCORT
Luke Robbins entered at once upon his duties as janitor of the Emmonsville bank. It was rather difficult, however, to supply him with employment enough to account for his being in constant attendance.
He was provided with a broom, and in the morning swept the bank. Sometimes he washed the windows; at other times he sat on a bench in the rear of the bank, ready for any call upon his services. So far as garb went, he resembled a Quaker, but his brown face and sharp eyes hardly harmonized with his assumed character. Still less did the revolver which he carried in an inside pocket.
Several days passed, and though Luke kept a sharp lookout for the Fox brothers, he did not catch a glimpse of anyone who suggested or resembled them.
Then one morning Luke went to the bank as usual and put on his Quaker garb.
About eleven o'clock an elderly man appeared and presented a check for five hundred dollars. The money was paid him, and then he lingered a moment, ill at ease.
"I don't like to have so much money about me," he said, in a tone that betrayed anxiety.
"No doubt you will find plenty who would be willing to relieve you of it," rejoined the paying teller, with a smile.
"That's what I am afraid of. They do say that the Fox brothers have been seen not far away."
"Is it absolutely necessary that you should have the money in your possession? You could leave it in the bank, or most of it."
"I shall want to use some of it to-morrow, and I live ten miles away–in Claremont."
"How are you going back?"
"I have a buggy outside."
"The road to Claremont is rather lonely, I believe."
"Yes."
"Why don't you get some one to go with you?"
"I don't know any one I could get."
"I can find you a companion, but he would want to be paid."
"I'll pay him if he'll see me through all right."
"I have the very man for you. Here, Luke!"
Luke Robbins heard the call and approached.
"The farmer looked at him doubtfully.
"A Quaker?" he said, in a disappointed tone.
"He is no more a Quaker than you are. He is a detective, and very anxious to meet either of the Fox brothers."
The farmer brightened up.
"He's the man I'm after, then."
A bargain was struck between Luke and Ezekiel Mason, whereby the farmer promised to pay him five dollars to accompany him home and remain over night at the farm-house until he had disposed of the money the way he intended.
Luke was glad to accept the proposal. It promised variety, and possibly adventure. The farmer climbed into the buggy, and the Quaker detective, following, took a seat by his side.
After they had driven some time they reached a part of the road where for a clear mile in advance there was not a house or building of any kind to be seen.
"This is the place I was most afraid of," said the farmer.
"Yes, it seems to be lonely. I wish one of the Fox brothers would happen along."
"Why?" asked the farmer, in a tone of alarm.
"Because I would like to tackle him."
"Why are you so anxious to tackle him? I cannot understand."
"Then I'll tell you, my honest friend. There is a reward of a thousand dollars offered for the capture of one of these famous outlaws, dead or alive."
Ezekiel Mason shrugged his shoulders.
"I'd rather earn the money some other way!" he said.
"You are only a peaceful farmer, while I am a fighting Quaker," responded Luke.
As he spoke he looked up the road, and his glance fell upon a short, compactly built man, in a gray suit, who was walking towards them. He seemed a quiet, commonplace person, but there was something about him that attracted Luke's attention.
"Do you know that man?" he asked abruptly.
"No," answered Mason, after a rapid glance.
"Are the Fox brothers tall men?" asked Luke.
"One only."
"The other?"
"Is about the size of the man who is approaching."
Luke did not reply, but examined still more critically the advancing pedestrian.
"If this should be one of the Foxes," he began.
"Do you think it is?" asked the farmer in a terrified tone.
"I can't tell. If it proves to be, do exactly as I tell you."
"Yes," replied the farmer, now thoroughly alarmed.
By this time the new-comer was but twenty feet distant. Though his appearance and dress were commonplace, his eyes, as they could see, were dark and glittering.
He made a halt.
"Friends," he said, "can you oblige me with the time?"
The farmer was about to produce his big, old-fashioned, silver watch, when Luke nudged him sharply.
"Leave him to me," he whispered, in a tone audible only to the farmer.
"Thee has asked the wrong party," he said aloud. "We don't carry watches."
The pedestrian regarded him with contempt. Whoever he might be, he looked upon a Quaker as a mild, inoffensive person, hardly deserving the name of man.
"I didn't speak to you," he said scornfully.
CHAPTER X.
THE ASTONISHED OUTLAW
The pedestrian's next move was a bold one.
"I am tired," he said. "Give me a ride."
"Will thee excuse us?" said the Quaker meekly.
"Oh, shut up!" cried the assumed pedestrian. "Quakers should be seen and not heard."
Then, to the farmer, "I am tired. Let me into your carriage."
"There is no room," said the farmer nervously.
"Then tell the Quaker to get out, and I will take his place."
Ezekiel Mason was by no means a brave man, and he did not know what to say to this impudent proposal.
He looked appealingly at Luke.
"I will accommodate the gentleman," said the latter meekly. With the words he rose from his seat and jumped to the ground.
"Shall I assist thee?" he asked the stranger in a mild voice.
"No; I am quite capable of getting into the carriage without help from a meddlesome Quaker."
"Indeed, thee does me injustice."
The stranger did not immediately get into the buggy.
"I don't care to ride, after all," he said coolly. "Just hand me your money, you old clodhopper."
The worst had come. The new arrival was evidently one of the Fox brothers, after all.
"Indeed, I have no money," said the terrified farmer.
This was true, for he had put the wallet, containing the five hundred dollars, into the hands of Luke.
"You lie! You have just come from the Emmonsville bank, where you drew a large amount."
At this proof of knowledge on the part of the outlaw the farmer was almost paralyzed.
It appeared to him that the robber must be supernaturally gifted.
"I haven't got it now," he said.
"You lie!" cried the outlaw sternly. "Come down here and give up the money, or I'll shoot you."
"You can search me," said Mason desperately.
"Come down, then."
"Thee is very unkind," observed Luke.
"Shut up, you meddlesome Quaker! It none of your business."
"Thee had better come down and let the man search thee," said Luke to the farmer.
Ezekiel Mason had been waiting for a hint from Luke, in whom he recognized a master spirit. His only hope was in his companion.
"Art thee Mr. Fox?" asked Luke in a tone of mild inquiry.
"I'll let you know who I am," was the swaggering reply.
Though he was but one man opposed to two, he had no fears. The farmer was evidently cowed and terrified, while the Quaker seemed, though large, to be peaceable and harmless.
But in his judgment of Luke the outlaw was very much at fault. When threatening the farmer he had covered him with his revolver, but as he was preparing to leave the buggy he carelessly lowered it. Luke, who was aching to attack him, noticed this.
While Fox, for it was one of the notorious brothers, was standing in careless security the Quaker sprang upon him like a panther upon his prey. He knocked the revolver from his hand with one powerful blow, felled him to the ground, and placed his foot upon his prostrate form.
Never, perhaps, in a career crowded with exciting adventures had the outlaw been so thoroughly surprised.
"What the mischief does this mean?" he ejaculated, struggling to rise.
"It means that thee has mistaken thy man," answered Luke coolly.
"Let me go or I'll kill you!" shrieked the outlaw fiercely.
"If you try to get up I'll put a bullet through your head," replied Luke, pointing at him with his own revolver.
In his excitement he had dropped his Quaker speech, and this the outlaw noted.
"Are you a Quaker? he asked abruptly.
"No more than you are," answered Luke. "Farmer, bring out the rope."
Ezekiel Mason, from the bottom of the buggy, produced a long and stout piece of clothes-line.
"What do you mean to do?" inquired the outlaw uneasily.
"You will see soon enough. No, don't try to get up, as you value your life. Now tie him, Mason, while I keep him covered with the revolver."
"We've had enough of this," said the outlaw sullenly. "Let me go, and I'll do you no harm."
"I don't mean that you shall, my honest friend."
"But if you persist in this outrage, I swear that you will be a dead man within thirty days."
"Be careful how you talk, or you may be a dead man within thirty minutes," answered Luke.
While the outlaw was covered by Luke's revolver, farmer Mason, though his tremulous hands showed that he was nervous, managed to tie him securely. Fox began to under stand the sort of man with whom he was dealing and remained silent, but his brain was busy trying to devise some method of escape.
At length the dangerous prisoner was securely tied.
"What shall we do with him?" asked Ezekiel.
"Where's the nearest prison?
"At Crampton."
"How far away?"
"Twelve miles."
"In what direction?"
"It is four miles beyond Claremont," answered the farmer.
"Where you live?"
"Yes."
"Then we will go there first."
"But how shall we carry this gentleman?" asked the farmer, who could not get over a feeling of deference for the celebrated outlaw.
[Illustration: "NOW TIE HIM, MASON, WHILE I KEEP HIM COVERED WITH THE REVOLVER."]
"We'll put him into the back part of the buggy."
By the united efforts of both, the outlaw, like a trussed fowl, was deposited bodily in the rear of the carriage, where he lay in a most uncomfortable position, jolted and shaken whenever the road was rough or uneven. It was a humiliating position, and he felt it.
"You'll repent this outrage," he said fiercely.
"Doesn't thee like it?" asked Luke, relapsing into his Quaker dialect.
"Curse you and your Quaker lingo!" retorted Fox, his black eyes sparkling vindictively.
"It wouldn't do thee any harm to turn Quaker thyself," suggested Luke.
"I'll be bruised to death before the ride is over," growled the outlaw.
"There is one way of saving you the discomfort of the ride."
"What is that?"
"I might shoot you through the head. As the reward is the same whether I deliver you alive or dead, I have almost determined to do it."
The outlaw was made still more uncomfortable by these words. He had wholly misunderstood Luke at first, and the revelation of his real character had impressed him not only with respect, but with fear. He did not know of what this pseudo Quaker might be capable. He longed in some way to get out of his power. Force was impracticable, and he resolved to resort to finesse.