Part 15 (1/2)
It was Philo Gubb, slipping the car door latch over the staple and hammering home the hasp with a rock. It was the engine, backing against the long row of cars to make a coupling, and then moving slowly forward toward Derlingport as the heavy train got under way.
The two rascals hammered on the side of the car with their fists. They swore. They kicked against the doors. Philo Gubb drew himself into the next open car as the train moved away.
About the same time, Officer Purcell entered the Marshal's office, where Wittaker and Billy Getz sat awaiting the coming of Philo Gubb.
Purcell led John Gutman, the town half-wit.
”I got him,” he said proudly. ”Caught him comin' out of Sam Wentz's cellar window. Says he didn't mean no harm. Had a dream he was to leave spoons on all the society folks an' he'd be invited to all their parties.”
”Did he fight you?” asked Wittaker. ”Your pants is all stained up.”
”Fight? No, he wouldn't fight a sheep. I tripped over a wire fence cuttin' a corner an' fell into a flower-bed. Got Hail Columbia from the lady, too. She said old man Westcote fell into the flowers yesterday, and she didn't mean to have her flower-bed used as no landin' place. Heard from Detective Gubb yet?”
Wittaker grinned. ”We ought to hear from him soon. And I reckon he'll be worth waiting to hear from.”
And he was. Word came from him about an hour later. It was a telegram from the Sheriff of Derling County:--
Detective Gubb captured two of the dynamiters to-night. Have their confession. Arrest Pie-Wagon Pete, Long Sam Underbury, and Shorty Billings. All implicated.
”An' the rewards tot up to five thousand dollars,” said Officer Purcell. ”Let's hustle out an' nab the other three, an' maybe we can split it with Gubb.”
”And us sitting here thinking we had a joke on him!” exclaimed Marshal Wittaker with disgust. ”It makes me sick!”
”Well, I feel a little bilious myself,” said Billy Getz.
THE TWO-CENT STAMP
The house in Tenth Street where Philo Gubb was doing a job of paper-hanging when he made the happy error of capturing the dynamiters while seeking the un-burglars was the home of Aunt Martha Turner, a member of the Ladies' Temperance League of Riverbank.
The members of the Ladies' Temperance League--and Aunt Martha Turner particularly--had recently begun a movement to have City Attorney Mullen impeached and thrown out of office, for they claimed that while he had been elected by the Prohibition-Republican Party, and had pledged himself to close every saloon, he had not closed one single saloon. Aunt Martha Turner and her a.s.sociates believed this was because Attorney Mullen was himself a drinker of beer, and it was to get proof of this that the hot-headed ladies had engaged a youth named Slippery Williams to make a raid on his home.
Detective Gubb was, however, quite unconscious of all this when he proceeded to the home of Aunt Martha to complete his work there. He was in an unhappy frame of mind, for he had in his pocket nothing but one two-cent stamp and he had immediate need for one hundred dollars.
Mr. Gubb had, early that morning, visited the home of Mr.
Medderbrook, from whom he hoped to have news of Syrilla, but the colored butler informed him that Mr. Medderbrook had been called to Chicago.
”He done lef word, howsomedever,” said the butler, ”dat ef you come an' was willin' to pay thutty cents you could have dis telegraf whut come from Mis' Syrilla. An' he lef dis note fo' you, whut you can have whever you pay or not.”
Mr. Gubb quite willingly gave the negro thirty cents, the very last money he possessed, and read the telegram. It said:--
Hope on, hope ever. Have given up wheat bread, corn bread, rye bread, home-made bread, bakers' bread, biscuit and rolls. Have lost six pounds more. Love to Gubby.
This would have sent Mr. Gubb to his work in a happy frame of mind, had it not been for the note Mr. Medderbrook had left. This note said:--
Called to Chicago suddenly. I must have one hundred dollars payment on account of the gold stock immediately. Cannot let my daughter marry a man who puts off paying for gold stock forever. Unless I hear from you with money to-morrow, all is over between us.
Such a letter would have made any lover sad. Mr. Gubb had no idea where he could raise one hundred dollars during the day and he saw his promising romance cut short just when Syrilla was beginning to lose weight handsomely. The greeting he received when he reached Aunt Martha Turner's was not of a sort to cheer him. Mrs. Turner met him with a sour face.
”No, you can't go ahead with puttin' the wall-paper on this kitchen ceilin' to-day, Mr. Gubb,” she said.