Part 18 (1/2)
Brady.
”Er--describe them, please?” said the man in uniform, as he drew out a bulky notebook, and opened it at a certain place.
”One was very short, a squatty sort of fellow, but enormously strong.
When I saw what he could lift I thought I'd run across a good hand, though I own that I didn't just like his face; but at this time of year farmers can't be choosers, 'cause help is mighty scarce.”
”Did he have a scar on his right cheek?” asked the pompous chief of police, as he kept his eyes on his notebook.
”That's just what he did have; told me he had been caught once by a reaper, and just escaped with his life!” answered Mr. Brady promptly.
”So. And did you happen to notice his left hand, was the upper joint of his little finger missing?” the officer continued, in a sing-song tone.
”It certainly was,” replied the farmer, nodding; ”he explained that in the same way; and I agreed with him that he was lucky to lose only so small a piece, when he had the mower catch him, as the horses ran away.”
”Settled then; that was Shorty McCabe beyond all doubt,” remarked the official. ”Now how about his companion? Was he tall?”
”Half again as big a man as the other,” replied Mr. Brady.
”Squint with one of his eyes; and talk as if he had his mouth filled with hot mush?” continued Chief Benchley.
”You have described him to a dot,” answered the other, quickly.
”Then I have the honor to inform you, sir, that the men who were lately in your employ are the identical criminals we happen to be looking for at this very minute.”
”I guessed as much,” dryly remarked Mr. Brady; who, it seemed to Elmer, had sized the important official at his true value, which, as Landy afterwards declared, was very much along the line of a ”bag of wind.”
”Please produce them, and we will see to it that they give you no further worry,” remarked the officer.
”I only wish I could, sir; but the fact is, that after being caught robbing the house by one of my family, while my grown son and myself were in the fields, they set fire to things, and then ran off,” the farmer replied.
”That is bad,” remarked the policeman, sadly. ”I had thought you might have tied the rascals up, and that we could relieve you of their care.
Can you tell me in what direction they fled, sir?”
”Toward the barns, my daughter says,” Mr. Brady replied.
”Evidently with the design of securing horses, and continuing their flight,” said the big man in blue, as though these things were only for the practical mind of a man of long experience.
”Hardly that, sir,” the farmer observed.
”How do you know?” asked Chief Benchley, frowning at the idea of a mere countryman venturing to differ with him.
”Because they knew in the first place that I only have two horses just now, and both of them were being used by my son and myself out in another field, some distance away from the house. But one of these wide-awake lads has suggested that perhaps they meant to conceal themselves in the haymow, or about the barns somewhere, in the hope that after all the excitement blew over, another chance might open up to search my house for the money they need to make a get-away.”
The big man in blue wagged his head as he considered this piece of information.
”Well, now, that might be worth looking into; it isn't such a bad idea for a boy to think up. Perhaps we'd better take a look through the barn, and make sure. Whether we find them there or not, make up your mind the game's nearly up for the rascals. When they get Benchley hot on the trail, they're going to cash in and start for the pen in short order.
Lead the way to the barn, then, mister. What did you say your name was?”
”I didn't mention it, but I'm Silas Brady. I was just going to get some of the neighbors, and make the search myself when you hove in sight, Mr.