Part 24 (2/2)

Something must be done to give the travelers warning! So thought Owen as he crept away from the cliff. Perhaps the best plan would be to run some distance up the road, wait for the stage, and tell the driver what he had seen. As he paused for a few seconds to deliberate he heard the old stage rumbling down the hillside not a quarter of a mile away. To reach it now and give warning of the danger was impossible, for it was on the opposite side of the ravine. All that he could do was to wait until the stage hove in sight, then yell and fire his rifle to frighten the robbers and let them know that their movements had been watched. On the other hand, he would be perfectly safe; for he could make his escape before the two men had time to climb the steep cliff and pursue him.

Owen crawled back to a position where he could watch the bandits without being seen by them.

In the meantime, lumbering slowly along the rough road into the deep ravine, came the old stage, on whose top were two travelers whom Owen recognized as his old friend c.o.o.n-Hollow Jim and Squire Grundy. The Squire was gesticulating and talking vociferously in vain endeavors to be heard above the noise of the grinding wheels. Ostensibly he was entertaining the new sheriff; but he was aware of the fact that two lady pa.s.sengers below were listening to him as he recounted his many deeds of valor in the Indian wars.

He was suddenly interrupted by a scream from one of the ladies as the two robbers stepped forward and ordered the driver to dismount and unhitch his horses. It was no small humiliation for the new sheriff and the boastful Squire when told to take their places near the stage driver and hold their hands above their heads. With them were two other men, the women and three children being left undisturbed. One of the bandits placed himself before the five men, and, pistol in hand, threatened to blow out the brains of the first that attempted to escape, while the other forced the mail-bag open and began to examine its contents.

Squire Grundy trembled from head to foot, for he feared that his guard's pistol, which was pointed at his head, might go off at any minute.

c.o.o.n-Hollow Jim stood sullen and stolid; he felt that he was more than a match for the two robbers, yet in his present position he was powerless.

But where was Owen? Why did he not give the alarm as he had resolved to do? So frightened and bewildered was he that he remained for some time a pa.s.sive spectator of the scene. Finally he regained his courage and resolved to a.s.sist his old friend c.o.o.n-Hollow Jim. Yet which should he do? To kill or wound the robber--his mind revolted from such a plan. To shoot the pistol from his hand--this was an easy task, though to hit it in such a way as to make the ball glance off without the least danger to the pa.s.sengers--this required the perfection of his skill, but this he resolved to do.

Never did Owen's rifle-craft prove more useful to him than at that moment. Conscious of his power, he raised his rifle. His aim was long and true and steady. Then a sharp, clear ring, followed by the deep, loud report of the highwayman's pistol, discharged by the shock of his bullet. For a moment both robbers and pa.s.sengers were dazed. No one seemed to know what had happened or to have noticed that a rifle had been fired. But the bewilderment was only for a moment.

Mr. Lane, seeing his guard unarmed and helpless, sprang toward him and seized him in his iron grasp. The other bandit, too, was soon overpowered and made a prisoner.

”Hold them tight! Hold them tight! Ropes to bind them! Ropes to bind them!” exclaimed the excited Squire, keeping at a safe distance from the two robbers.

The driver bound the hands of the two prisoners behind them with strong hemp rope.

”The rogues and thieves!” continued the Squire with much indignation.

”The country is full of them! It is as dangerous to travel now as when we had the Indians around, forty years ago!”

As soon as the prisoners were secured all fell to praising Mr. Lane for his bravery. For, in their opinion, he had suddenly sprung upon the highwayman, knocked the pistol from his hands and made him a prisoner.

”That's the boldest, bravest deed that I've witnessed in all my wide experience,” said the Squire. ”To attack an armed robber who holds a pistol at your breast, to overpower him and take him prisoner unaided--that, sir, is something that has never been done before in this State or country. Then to dodge the bullet! Sheriff, how you dodged the bullet when he fired at you is more than I can understand. I predict a unanimous vote for you in the next election--a unanimous vote, sir. For when the people hear of this day's work they'll have no one else for sheriff of Nelson County.” The Squire would have talked for half an hour, but the driver interrupted him, and insisted on starting at once.

The two prisoners were made to take seats on the top of the stage, where Mr. Lane, pistol in hand, sat to guard them; and in a few moments the coach and four disappeared over the hill beyond the ravine. The pa.s.sengers congratulated themselves on their fortunate escape, little dreaming of the part which Owen had played in the capture of the robbers.

Owen, too, was pleased with the turn which events had taken. His first impulse was to call out to the travelers and explain why the pistol had dropped from the bandit's hand; but when he noted their praise for Mr.

Lane, and heard Squire Grundy say that his bravery would win for him the vote of every man in the county, Owen determined then and there to let no one know that a shot from his rifle had brought so much honor on his friend.

For an hour or more neither of the prisoners spoke a word. They wore their masks, too, so that Mr. Lane was ignorant of the fact that the fleshy man before him was the jolly fiddler and marksman whom he had met at the famous shooting-match on Grundy's farm.

Within the stage, the Squire was entertaining the pa.s.sengers with stories of Indian wars. He had often seen Indians dodge bullets, but Mr.

Lane, he thought, was the first white man to perform such a feat. The sheriff was elated as he listened to these words of praise from so great and influential a man as Squire Grundy. In the meantime, he carelessly examined the pistol which he held in his hand. Something had struck the upper part of the rusty barrel; the mark looked like one made by a bullet. Was not this the pistol, too, that had fallen from the robber's hand? While the sheriff was thinking over the matter and trying to find some connection between the mark and the surprise of the prisoners, one of the bandits spoke to him.

”I don't wish,” said he, ”to ask for anything either for myself or my partner. We've been caught robbing a stage, and must serve our term in the penitentiary; but there is another man in this work, and he must come with us.”

”That's right,” chimed in his companion, from beneath his mask. ”Catch that devil of a Tinker, and you can have all three of us. Me and this hare feller was nothin' but rabbits for goin' into this hare work, and we desarve to be caught in our own traps.”

”We didn't intend to rob the stage,” continued the first speaker.

”That there may be true,” interrupted the sheriff, ”but I reckon the law won't look at it in that there way.”

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