The Campers Out; Or, The Right Path and the Wrong
Page 11
CHAPTER XI
NO JOKE
What more alarming summons can be imagined than that which rang fromthe darkness in front of the stage, as it was slowly winding its waythrough Black Bear Swamp?
The lightning which had toyed with them before seemed unwilling to doso again, for the impenetrable night was not lit up by the firstquiver or flutter of the intense fire.
"Are you ready to shoot?" asked the driver, turning his head andspeaking in guarded tones.
"My gracious, no!" replied Wagstaff, as well as he could between hischattering teeth; "I can't see him."
"He's right there in the middle of the road; don't hit one of thehorses--what are you trying to do?"
It was plain enough what the valiant youth was doing; he was crawlingunder the seat, the difficulty of doing so being increased by the bodyof Jim, who was ahead of him in seeking the refuge.
"I aint going to fire when there's no chance of hitting him," growledTom, still twisting and edging his way out of reach.
"But the lightning will show him to you in a minute."
"Let it show and be hanged! I've got enough; I surrender."
The words had been spoken hastily, and Tom and Jim did not throw awayany seconds in groping for cover, but, brief as was the time, theterrible fellow in the middle of the road became impatient.
"Are all them hands up?" he roared, "or shall I open fire?"
"My two passengers are under the seat, but they won't hurt you--"
The driver checked himself for a moment and then exclaimed, loudenough for the youths to hear:
"He's coming into the wagon!"
"Heavens! don't let him do that," protested Jim; "he'll kill us all;tell him we surrender and won't shoot."
"Where's them young men that were going to fire so quick?" demandedthe fellow, hurriedly climbing into the front of the stage; "let mehave a chance at them!"
"It wasn't us," called back Wagstaff, "we haven't anything againstyou; take all we've got, only spare us; you can have our guns andpistols and our money, and everything we have--"
He ceased his appeal, for at that moment he heard some one laugh.
A shuddering suspicion of the truth came over him, but before he couldframe an explanation, Bill Lenman and the man who had just joined theparty broke into uproarious mirth.
The youths saw how utterly they had been sold. There was no trainrobber. Ethan Durrell had played the part of the heavy villain inorder to test the courage of these vaunting lads. The driver tried todissuade him from the trick, afraid of the risk incurred, but, as itproved, he was never in any danger.
The boys crept back from their concealment, and, resuming their seatin front, saw that it was useless to deny the dilemma in which theywere placed.
"I don't see anything smart in a trick like that," said Tom, angrily;"some folks have queer ideas of a joke."
"It's lucky for you," added Jim, "that the lightning didn't show youto us; I had my gun aimed and was just ready to fire, but couldn't seeclear enough to make sure of dropping you at the first shot."
"All that I was afeared of," said the driver, "was that you would hitone of the horses, and that's what you would have done."
"It would have served you right if I had."
"But it would have been a costly job for you, young man."
The team had resumed its progress and the violent flurry of theelements began subsiding. The flashes were less frequent, though theyappeared often enough to show the course of the stage, as the animalspressed on at a moderate walk.
The driver and the New Englander were more considerate than mostpersons would have been under the circumstances, for they foreboretaunting the youths, whom they had at their mercy. Tom and Jim wereresentful enough to have used violence toward Durrell, who bad turnedthe tables so cleverly on them; but the manner in which he did it gavethem a wholesome fear of the wiry fellow from down East.
"Then," said Tom, addressing the driver, "that was all stuff that youtold us about seeing a suspicious person in these woods."
"No, sir, it was all true," was the unexpected reply.
This statement instantly awoke interest again in the question, foreven Durrell had supposed the driver was playing with the fears of theboys.
"If that's the case," he said, "we may have trouble yet, though itgets me how a man dare try anything like that in this part of theworld."
"They haven't tried it yet," was the reminder of Lenman.
"No, and I guess they won't; but from what I've read and hearn tell,it's just such crimes that succeed, 'cause nobody expects anybodywould dare try them."
That night was an eventful one in the history of the occupants of theold stage-coach plying between Belmar and Piketon. That the driver wasuneasy was shown by his silence and his close attention to his teamand matters in front. He took no part in the conversation, but let theothers do the talking while he listened and watched.
All noticed the rapid clearing of the sky. The disturbance of the airwas peculiar, for, while it threatened a severe rainfall, nothing ofthe kind took place, not a drop pattering on the leaves. The electricconditions changed back again to something like a normal state, thelightning ceasing, the wind falling, and the clouds dissolving to suchan extent that, before Black Bear Swamp was crossed enough moonlightpenetrated the woods to reveal their course.
It was a singular sight when the party in the stage found themselvesable to see the ears of the horses, and, soon after, the trees at theside of the road, and by and by could make them out for several pacesin front of the team.
This was a vast relief, but the boys, instead of resuming their placesat the rear of the coach, kept the second seat in front, while Durrellput himself beside the driver, where both had the best opportunity fordiscovering any peril the instant it presented itself.
"Do you think there will be any trouble?" asked the New Englander,after being silent a minute or two.
"I don't know what to think," was the discomforting reply.
"But we are getting pretty well through the plaguey place; it can't befur from t'other side."
"That don't make any difference; one spot in these woods is as bad asanother."
"I'm sorry I haven't a pistol," said Durrell.
"I aint, for I tell you it won't do to try to use anything like thaton them chaps."
"If there were several it might be different, but the idea of two ofus surrendering to one man--it galls me, Bill. I was going to get oneof them boys to let me have a revolver, but I don't want to do it aslong as you feel this way."
"I wouldn't have it for the world; if I was sure there was but theone, I don't know as I would object--that is, if you wanted to fightpurty bad."
"You seen only one man, you told me."
"But that's no sign there isn't others near."
"True. By gracious, Bill!" whispered the New Englander, peeringforward and to one side in the gloom; "I believe I _did_ see aperson in front of us just then."
"I didn't notice him," replied the driver, trying hard to pierce thegloom; "where is he?"
"Not in the middle of the road, but on the left."
That was the side on which Durrell was sitting, so that he had abetter opportunity than the driver. He believed something moved, butthe shadows among the trees were too dense to make sure. The fact thatthe horses had shown no sign of fear was good reason to suspectDurrell was mistaken, but enough doubt remained to cause misgiving.
They talked so low that the boys behind them could only catch themurmur of their voices, without being able to understand their words.They were in such trepidation themselves that they forgot their recentfarce, and, speaking only now and then in whispers, used their eyesand ears for all they were worth.
"_If any one stirs, he'll be shot!_"
Some one at the side of the road uttered these words in a low butdistinct voice, adding in the same terrible tones:
"Stop that team! There are three of us here, and we've got youcovered; each one of you get down and stand at
the side of the roadand hold up your hands! Do as you are told and you won't get hurt! Tryany of your tricks and you'll be riddled!"
Ethan Durrell was the only one in the stage who spoke. His voicetrembled, so that his words were hardly understood.
"Don't shoot, please, we'll get down; we won't do anything if you'llbe easy with us; be keerful them guns don't go off--"
"Shut up!" commanded the angry criminal; "we don't want any talking.Dick, keep your eye on 'em as they come out and don't stand anynonsense."
"Do you want me down there, too?" asked the driver, who fancied heought to be excused.
"You can sit where you are, but don't forget you're covered, too, anddon't stir. Come, hurry down, old chap!"
The last remark was addressed to Ethan Durrell, who showed somereluctance to obeying the stern order.
The fact was the New Englander was straining his eyes to the utmost.He saw the tall figure at the side of the highway, just abreast of thehorses' shoulders, but he could not detect any one else. That mightnot signify anything, as nothing was easier than for several personsto conceal themselves among the trees.
The question the plucky Durrell was asking himself was whether theyhad been held up by one man or more. If there were more than one itwas madness for him to resist, but if there was but one he meant tomake a fight, even though he had nothing more formidable than hisjack-knife about him.
He hesitated on the step in front, one hand resting on the haunch ofthe horse and the other grasping the front support of the cover of thecoach.
"Don't wait," whispered Lenman, "or you'll make him mad."
"Hurry up," added Tom Wagstaff, "and we'll follow you."
"Come, I reckon you'd better hurry," added the figure at the side ofthe road.
"All right, here I come!"
The New Englander sprang outward, and as he did so he flung both armsabout the neck of the rogue and bore him to the earth.