CHAPTER V
On the Railway
As the constable's eyes travelled round the audience watching AmosShirley's conjuring performance, and finally alighted on the stage, Jackfelt as if he would have given anything if the rough boards beneath hisfeet would open. He sat in a chair, holding in his hand a handkerchief,in which his employer had, a moment or so before, wrapped a silverdollar, before the eyes of the gazer.
"You are sure it is there, ain't yer, friends?" said the little man,stepping to the front of the stage, and wagging his head in a peculiarway he had. "Did I hear someone say it was not there? Yes, I guess so.Then will you please to open the handkerchief, sir, and show theaudience whether it contains something or nothing."
He tripped up to Jack, tapped the handkerchief with his wand, anddisplayed to the eyes of all the dollar he had placed there.
"And now to proceed with the feat," he cried, in his most pompousmanner. "We wrap the coin so, and thar ain't no mistake about it. Thatdollar's thar solid. Yer can hear the tap of the wand. It's thar, andin a moment I'll transfer it to the audience. Now, one, two, three.There she goes."
He waved the wand again, and then caught the handkerchief from Jack'sfingers.
"Say, did yer feel it fly?" he asked.
Simpkins's eyes were now on our hero, and for the moment the latter feltas if the constable were a snake whose gaze fascinated him. Jack wasalmost trembling. In his mind's eye he saw the cell from which he had sorecently escaped, that sombre court in which the trial had proceeded,and in the near distance the prison to which he would be sent to spendten solitary, hopeless years of his life. He could only shake his headto the question.
"Yer didn't feel it fly. But it's gone. Ye're sure of that?"
Jack nodded his head vigorously, while for one brief second he lookedsquarely into Simpkins's eyes. Did he see suspicion there? Or was thatonly a morbid fancy? The doubt was terrifying, and to speak the truthJack Kingsley was at that moment as near to acting foolishly as ever inhis life. The impulse was with him to leap to his feet, to jump from theplatform, and race away for his life. For there was suspicion inSimpkins's eyes. Every man he regarded while on this special journeyupon which the officials had sent him was a suspect, the prisoner whohad escaped from Hopeville. Even the same man with the black beard andmoustaches who had clambered on to the stage at the call of the conjurormight be the man he was searching for. And in consequence the constableregarded him with a fixed stare, and struck by something, the heightperhaps, or some unconscious pose of Jack's, moved a trifle closer. Amoment later a movement on the part of Amos arrested further advance.
"Ah, there is no mistake, my friends! That coin is gone, flown, as Isaid it would. And already I can see it. Pardon me, sir, but you haveit."
The wand pointed direct at Simpkins, much to the latter's annoyance. Heattempted to move away, but the crowd wedged him in, and, moreover, alleyes were on him. A chorus of laughter greeted his attempt.
"He never made a dollar easier in all his life," cried one of theaudience. "Stop him! That ain't his money."
The sally drew another roar from the crowd, and set Simpkins scowling.Amos, with all his showman's instincts, made the most of the occasion.
"Say, sir," he called out, "if I may trouble yer. That money ain't yoursaltogether, though yer happen to have it on you. Would you jest mindstepping along this way and handin' it over? I wouldn't trouble yer, butthen, if I was to come down myself, the gentlemen here might think therewas some faking, and that I'd jest dropped the coin right where it is.Jest a moment, sir, and thank ye."
Simpkins could not draw back, and, finding that his scowls only mademerriment for the crowd, he came forward unwillingly, shaking his headall the while.
"Ye're mistook," he called out. "There's not a stray dollar about me.Yer can hunt if yer like."
He mounted to the platform, and stood there awkwardly, within three feetof Jack, and directly facing him. Would he stretch out his hand and takethe prisoner? Did he actually recognize the young man sitting thereapparently so cool, and yet in reality quaking?
"Excuse me," said Amos. "Yer said you hadn't got that 'ere dollar, and Icall the audience to witness as yer added that yer hadn't a stray dollaranywheres. But if that ain't a silver dollar, why----"
"Good fer you! He's got it," came the same voice from the crowd. "Didn'tI say he was fer walkin' off. Hold on to it, siree. We're all able toswear as it's yours."
The reader can imagine the confusion of the constable, as Amos, standingon tiptoe, reached for his hat, and, having removed it from Simpkins'shead, showed a dollar resting in it. And still more so, when, as if notyet satisfied, the conjuror discovered a second in the lining of thehat, a third in his handkerchief, and others elsewhere, not to mention avariety of objects from his pockets, such as silk neckcloths, a toy gun,and last of all a live rabbit. Then indeed was the constable overcome.He dashed from the stage and away from the audience, followed by theirshouts of merriment. But he left his mark behind. Never before had Amosfound his assistant so unsympathetic. His carelessness was remarkable,and more than one trick was almost spoiled. For our unfortunate younghero was more than perturbed. The chilling influence of the law was onhim, and, do what he could, he failed to drive from his mind thatever-present dread that his disguise was discovered.
"I shall have to bolt again," he thought, as he sat in the chair facingthe audience. "There is nothing else for it. Simpkins will be askingquestions all round, and the instant he hears from Amos that I met himback east on the road, he'll know that I'm his man. I must go theinstant this business is over."
It seemed an eternity before the performance was ended, and he was ableto retire to the wagon. Then, at once, he accosted his employer.
"I want to say something," he said quietly, "and I hope you won't thinkbadly of me. But I must leave you at once. Never mind the reason. I mustgo right now without another minute's delay. I know it will put you outa little, for you will want someone else. But I am willing to hand backhalf the wages you have paid me."
Amos regarded his young helper with an expression of surprise andconcern. He had come to like his right-hand man very much, and indeedtreated him now more as if he were his son.
"Gee!" he cried. "What's this? Leave right now, but----"
"I am sorry. It must be, though," said Jack. "Here's the money. Half ofwhat I have earned. Shake hands and let me go."
There was a moment's pause while Amos regarded him critically and with akindly eye.
"Ye've acted straight and willing by me all through, yer have, Tom," hesaid at last, "and if yer must go, why yer must. But you'd better byhalf trust a man who's to be trusted. I ain't a fool. I've seen allthrough that yer had something hard on yer mind, and I've often feltsorry for yer. It does a chap good sometimes to find a real friend whowon't give him away, and who'll be right alongside to lend him someadvice. What's it all about, lad? Yer can trust me as you could yer ownmother. What's the trouble? If it's bad I may be able to advise, ferafter all these years I'm a knowing old bird. In any case I'm sound.Your secret stays with me safe as if it was locked up in a bank."
He held out a friendly hand, and Jack gripped it, gulping hard all thewhile at the lump which filled his throat. He, too, had become muchattached to Amos. Indeed, they had been more like father and son. And inhis employer he had long since discovered a man who lived on no bed ofroses, but who had to work hard for a living. But with it all he was agood fellow, by no means grasping, ready always to lend a helping hand.More than that, too, he was trustworthy, and sufficiently a man of theworld to be able to look at two sides of a question.
"I'm an escaped prisoner," he said suddenly, blurting out the words. "Iwas taken at Hopeville, and broke out of my cell. The charge was one ofburglary in which a murder was concerned."
"Wall?" asked Amos coolly, still gripping his hand.
"I can't tell the whole tale here. I haven't time."
"And no need, neither," came the answer. "I've seen it in the papers,
and all about the escape. What else?"
"I swear I am innocent. As you know the whole story, you will rememberhow I was taken. I swear that I had followed those men to warn thepeople of the house. James was the only one to believe me--James Orringof the smithy at Hopeville. I hadn't another friend, save his wife andmy mother. So I made up my mind to bolt, for outside a prison I have achance of finding those men and of clearing myself."
"Guess you have," came the reply. "Guess, too, that yer did right, andJim Orring aer a good man to help yer."
There was a smile on his face now, and it increased as Jack regarded himwith a startled expression.
"Yer see," he explained, "Jim and me aer friends, and have been since wewere nippers together at Hopeville. That 'ere place is where I war born,and reckon I know every man, woman, and child thar. But I've been away aheap, and have seen so many people that I begin to forget. For instance,I didn't quite fix that 'ere Simpkins when first I set eyes on him. JimOrring aer an old friend, and now that you tell me he's yours too, andthat he was one of few to believe in you, I ain't surprised he helpedyer to break out. Yer needn't get startled," he continued, for Jackshowed his concern at the last statement, for he was anxious that noharm should come to the smith. "I've jest guessed the last part, andreckon I'm dead right. It's the sort of handsome thing Jim would get todoin'. But you haven't any need to admit that he helped yer. Don't say aword. Wall, now, I suppose it is Simpkins that's disturbed you?"
Jack nodded. He was so taken up with thoughts of his escape that hecould scarcely speak, and, in spite of Amos's kindness, was anxious toflee.
"I recognized him after a bit," went on Amos, "but I didn't connect himwith you. I thought perhaps that he meant trouble with me, for sixmonths ago, back there close to Hopeville, there was a ruction round mystand one night. A rough in the audience wouldn't give me a fair showto get on with my performance. Wall, it came to blows, and jest when Isaw Simpkins I thought he was here on that concern. Seems he ain't; butI took the pluck out of him anyway. Now, let's think. He's a nastyfellow is Simpkins, suspicious, and all that; and, as sure as eggs areeggs, he'll be round here asking me where I've been, who's my man, andwhere I got him; for of course he knows I always have a man to help inthe show. Yes, Tom, guess ye've got to git slippy. I won't stop yer. Yerhop right off, and jest put that money back in yer pocket. I'll getanother man easy, and no bother. Jest remember this, ef you're in anytrouble, Amos is the one to call on. He's alongside of Jim. He believesthat you're as innocent of that 'ere crime as any baby."
He gave Jack's hand a firm and kindly squeeze, and put courage into him.Indeed, those few seconds did a great deal for our hero. The fact thatanother man believed in him put heart into the lad, braced him for thework before him, and lifted a load from his mind. He seemed at once tobe able to look more clearly and resolutely into the future.
"Thank you, sir," he answered gratefully. "Then I'll go, and go all thehappier for what you've said."
"And how'll yer move?" asked Amos curiously.
"I don't know one bit. I want to get out of the town, and then I canthink."
"Wall, I ain't going to ask more, but a nod's as good as a wink theysay. Supposin' you was to make fer the station. We ain't at the end ofthe rail yet. It runs on another hundred miles easy. Wall, supposin', Isay, yer was to make for the station, and found a train likely to leavefor the west. It ain't difficult to climb aboard when she's under weigh.That means yer havn't booked, and no one here'll be the wiser, speciallySimpkins. Twenty miles out you get down and buy a ticket. To-morreryou'll be as safe as a house. Goodbye, lad, I've been pleased to meetyer."
There were tears in Jack's eyes as he bade farewell to his employer andsped from the wagon. Somehow or other the fear of arrest, theconsciousness, ever present with him, that he was under the ban of thelaw, that he was a criminal at large, had undermined his naturalresolution and courage. The feeling was so strange to him, and in courseof time had so mastered the lad, that he began almost to feel as if hewere actually guilty. But a few moments' conversation with Amos had donewonders. Jack's head was set well back on his shoulders again. As heleft the wagon he walked like a man conscious of his own uprightness,ready and willing to face the world frankly and courageously.
"I'll take his hint," he thought, as he threaded his way through thestreets. "But let me take one last look to see that I am not followed."
He cast his eyes down the road, and saw at the end the wagon whichsheltered Amos. A man was walking towards it from the far distance, andour hero watched as he stopped at the wagon and finally entered. It wasSimpkins, the constable.
"And likely to hear a tale which will put him off the scent," said Jack,now by no means dismayed. "Here's the station. I'll get into a cornerand wait till it's dark."
There were a number of men lounging about the place, for the station wasa sort of no-man's land where the idlers and curious gathered. Therewas no platform to be seen. Only a wooden flooring under a barnlikeroof, while the train lying in the station was composed of roughcarriages, which bore no resemblance to the magnificent vehicles nowplying to and fro on American railways. At the tail of the train was anopen truck with deep sides. Jack looked at it longingly.
"When does she start?" he asked one of the idlers.
"Sevin, sharp," was the curt answer. "Goin' west."
"Then she'll suit me," thought Jack. "I'll go along the line and lookout for a spot from which I can board her."
It was already getting dusk, and by the time he had walked half a mileit was almost dark. He had traversed a level stretch of rail till now,but was delighted to find that he had reached a steep up gradient.
"It is a heavy train," he thought, "and will be sure to slow down here.I must manage to get aboard."
He sat down and waited patiently, wondering the while what Amos wasdoing, and what had happened during his interview with Simpkins. If onlyhe had known it, that interview had been more than humorous. For theastute little showman had been suddenly afflicted with forgetfulness. Hecould hardly even remember Simpkins, much less the fact that he was aconstable. As to his man, well, he might be wandering in the town. Inany case Simpkins might see him when he cared to call. Yes, he was agood young chap, had been with the van quite a time, but how long hewasn't altogether certain. In fact, Amos threw abundance of dust in theeyes of the constable. But he did not smother his natural suspicions.
"I believe the old hound knows a heap more than he will say," growledSimpkins as he walked away. "And I can't help thinking that thar wassomething about that man on the stage which struck me as being sort offamiliar. Ef it was young Jack Kingsley, whew!"
He whistled loudly, for he realized that re-arrest of the prisoner wouldmean commendation for the constable, and promotion to a certainty. Thevery thought stimulated him in his efforts. He went straight off to thestation, and was just in time to inspect the train about to leave, fromthe engine right back to the truck trailing at the end.
"Not here," he said as he walked away, having seen the train run out ofthe station. "He'll be in the town, I expect. Now that I come to thinkabout it, that fellow on the stage was jest about the right size for theprisoner, and, in spite of the beard he wore, about the same age. Gee!"
There was something else which struck him, something again to do withthe pose of the man he had in his mind's eye. And now he remembered thathe had often and often watched Jack as he sat in the court under trial.His pose there was precisely that of the man he had so lately seen onthe conjurer's stage. In a flash it occurred to him that this must bethe prisoner he sought, and he went off at a run to speak again withAmos. Meanwhile the train had run from the town at a smart pace, which,however, dropped as it ascended the rise.
"It will be a job to clamber aboard, all the same," thought Jack, as hesaw it coming. "I suppose it is doing seventeen miles an hour. But Ihave got to get aboard somehow, if I have to dive for it."
He stood back from the rails, so that the engine lamps should not showhim to the drivers. But
the instant it thundered past he stepped brisklyforward. Yes, the long line of heavy vehicles was pounding along at asmart pace, and, more than that, their height above the rails wasgreater than he had reckoned for. He watched the carriages like a cat,seeking for a handy rail. But one after another they swung past till thelast was near at hand. It was a species of conductor's van, and the stepdescended close to the ground. There was a strong rail beside it, and tothis Jack clutched as it came level with him. In spite of the fact thathe had begun to run with the train, he was jerked off his feet; for thevehicles were gathering pace every second. But Jack was not to be easilybeaten. He clung desperately with one hand to the rail, while he grippedthe step with his other. Then he managed to swing his body till itleaned on the step, and, later, to lift himself clean on to it.
"So far so good," he thought. "Now I make back for the truck behind.I'll wait till I have gained my breath, for there is no hurry, and nobridges likely to strike me. The train does not stop for twenty miles,and, as it has to ascend a long gradient, it takes a time to do the workand cover the distance. Gee! That dragging knocked my boots about."
Five minutes later he felt able to undertake the remainder of the taskbefore him, by no means an easy one, namely to clamber along the outsideof the coach, and cross to the truck trailing behind the train. It wasgetting chilly on the step, and he felt that if he did not move soon hewould perhaps become too cramped. Clambering to his feet, he gripped therail overhead, which ran horizontally to the back of the coach, and felthis way along the footboard with his toes. Presently he discovered that,whereas the rail continued to the end, the boards did not. They were cutoff abruptly.
"Which makes it a trifle more difficult," he thought. "I shall have toswing my way along."
But to cling to a rail and swing one's way along it when a train istearing away at thirty-five miles an hour, and swaying horribly, is noeasy matter; for the wind tears and grips at one dangerously. Jack foundit required all his strength to maintain a grip, and presently drew hislegs up and felt desperately for some foothold.
"I'm still a couple of yards from the end," he thought grimly, castinghis eyes over his shoulder, "and I'm dead sure I can't hold on like thisall the way. I must try--ah, here's something!"
His toes lit upon a beading of the carriage work, and the support hethus obtained helped him wonderfully. Then, in the gloom above, hediscerned a second rail, and reaching up with one hand managed to graspit and haul himself a little higher, with his toes still on the bead.And now his head was on a level with the windows of the coach.
"Three men," he said to himself, withdrawing his head, for a hastyglance told him that the coach was occupied. "No, four. Whew!"
A second glance told him that there was a fourth person; and once he hadseen him our hero dropped down again, and gave vent to a low whistle.Surprises seemed to be ever in store for him. The fourth individual hehad seen was huddled in a corner of the coach, and the glimpse Jack hadcaught of him showed that he was bound hand and foot.
"Gee! Now what on earth is the meaning of that?" he asked himself."Three men sitting at the far end, with a lantern at their feet, and thefourth a prisoner!"
It was not the most comfortable place in the world in which to puzzleabout such a knotty question, and, think as he might, our hero couldcome no nearer a solution. Obviously he must reach some point of safetyand then cogitate.
"I'll get along this beading somehow," he thought, "and then take a lookround. There's queer doings in that coach."
Inch by inch he wormed his way along the coach, his feet on the beadingand his hands on the rail; and in course of time he gained the end.Swinging round it, as the vehicle gave a tremendous lurch, almosttearing his grip away, he found himself close to the buffers. A momentlater he was seated on an iron step secured to the coach.
"So far so good," he said to himself. "Now, up I go. There's a lanternon top, and through it I'll be able to see what's happening."
It required very little energy to reach the roof of the coach, so thatin a couple of minutes he was spread out on it, the air sweeping pasthim in a perfect hurricane. But he had a firm hold of the lantern, whilehis face was pressed closely to it. And once more the shrill, lowwhistle escaped him. For one of the three men below had moved. He haddragged the individual who was bound, into a sitting position, and hadplaced the lamp so that it threw its light full upon him. As our herostared down into the interior of the coach, the man pulled a revolverfrom his belt and levelled it at the head of the prisoner, while his twocomrades approached nearer, and, taking up their stands close at hand,began to question the unfortunate man they had bound.
Jack ran his fingers over the lantern, and pulled gently at the framingnearest him. It moved noiselessly, though a little sound made nodifference, for the roar of the train drowned anything. Little by littlehe contrived to open the lantern, till the window provided in it wasstanding at right angles from the main framework. Then he draggedhimself forward, and slowly inserted his head. In two minutes he was insuch a position that he could see the interior of the coach clearly,while he was directly above the four men. More than that, once his headwas through the window the roar of the wind ceased entirely, while therumble of the train was no greater than those below had to contend with.They were shouting at the prisoner, and Jack opened his ears wide tolisten.
Indian and Scout: A Tale of the Gold Rush to California Page 5