CHAPTER XIII. SWANSON'S RANCHE--THE DETECTIVES IN ROBBER'S RETREAT--THESUCCESS OF THE DOCTOR--ANOTHER ROBBERY PLANNED.
In the center of a beautiful valley, with high, rugged bluffs rising onall sides, and intersected by a clear stream of spring water, whichfell in tiny cascades and little waterfalls, turning and twisting likea silver snake, stood Swanson's Ranche. The low frame building,surrounded on four sides by a wide porch, and standing on a gentleelevation which fell away to the creek, was the home of the redoubtableSwanson, who was monarch of all he surveyed for miles around. Theevening was rapidly advancing into night, and the large open fireplace,huge and yawning, was roaring with the cheerful fire which Swanson'sobedient squaw had built, that her liege lord might not be chilled bythe cold wind which whistled over the plains.
The floor of the large room, covered with fur rugs and hugebuffalo-skins, was made of pounded clay, and the feet of many years hadhardened it to almost stone-like solidity.
Saddles, lariats, rifles, high boots, and all the trappings and harnessbelonging to a cowboy's outfit littered the place, and stretched out onthe robes and furs, in easy, careless attitudes, lay some half-dozenmen.
Jim Cummings and Dan Moriarity were of the number. Thick clouds oftobacco smoke curled and eddied to the low ceiling, and seated near thefire to get the benefit of the light were a couple of card-playingranchmen, indulging in a game of California Jack.
Standing with his back to the blaze, his feet spread apart, and hishands deep in his pockets, stood the owner of the ranche--Swanson. Castin a Herculean mold, he stood over six feet tall, his broad shoulderssurmounted by a neck like a bull, and his red, cunning face, almost hidfrom sight by the thick, bushy whiskers which covered it.
He had been relating, with great gusto, some adventure in which he hadplayed a prominent part, and raising his broad hand in the air hebrought it down on a table near him, as he exclaimed:
"And if any detective comes skulking around this shanty, I swear I'llcut out his sneaking heart, and make him eat it raw"--when the sound ofhorses broke the thread of his discourse, and a voice was heardshouting:
"Hello-o-o, the house!"
"Yes, an be right smart about it, dis chile most froze."
A young fellow near the door sprang to open it, and thrusting his headout, said:
"Come in, there's no dogs around."
"Dats all right, honey, we ain't got no fear of de hounds, me an' theDoctor ain't."
"Keep quiet, you black imp," said the voice which had first been heard,"Hobble the nags and bring in my saddle, boys."
"All right, sah; I's hearin' you, sah."
To this conversation, which had taken place outside, the men in theroom had listened with great interest. Anything was welcome that servedto break the monotony of ranche life, and a stir of expectation wentthrough the room as the two strangers were heard dismounting.
The door opened and the new-comers entered.
"By the great horn spoon if this ain't the old hoss doctor hisself!"exclaimed Swanson, as he reached out his huge paw. "I thought theApaches had lifted your scalp years ago."
"You can't kill a good hoss doctor, Swanson," replied the Doctor,grasping the offered hand and giving it a hearty shake. "Good hossdoctors don't grow on every bush."
"Boys," said Swanson, turning the Doctor around. "This hyar gentlemanis Doctor Skinner--"
"Late graduate of the Philadelphia Veterinary Surgical Institute. Haspractised in seventeen States and four Territories. Can cure anythingon hoofs, from the devil to the five-legged broncho of Arizona, whichhas four legs, one on each corner, and one attached to his left flank.With it, he can travel faster than the swiftest race horse, and whenhunted by the native red men, he throws it over his neck, and smilesurbanely upon his baffled pursuers."
Swanson roared with delight as the Doctor rolled this off his tongue,and slapping him on the back, cried:
"You're the same old codger. Haven't changed an inch in seven years.You've got to stay here a week, two weeks, a month. I've plenty of sickstock, and some of the boys have horses that need polishing."
"Yes, sah!" broke in the Doctor's companion, a full-blooded negro."We's gwine to camp down hyar shuah a monf--"
"Hold your tongue, Scip," said the Doctor. "I'm the talking man here.Yes! gentlemen," addressing the attentive cowboys, "I can cure anythingthat touches the ground--biped, quadruped, or centipede--glanders,botts, greased hoofs, heaves, blind staggers, it makes no odds. Myuniversal, self-acting, double compound elixir of equestrian ointmentwill perform a cure in each and every case. It is cheap! It is sure! Itis patented! It is the best, and it is here. You may roll up, you maytumble up, you may walk up, any way to get up, or send your money up,and you will receive a two-quart bottle of this precious liquid, ofwhich I am the sole owner, proprietor and manufacturer."
Again Swanson expressed his unbounded delight, and the audiencesignified their entire approbation by shouting:
"Go it, old hoss; keep it up!"
When the doctor first entered, Cummings, who was extended on a largebear skin, fastened a searching look on him, taking in every featureand article of wearing apparel, and Moriarity, who was stretched nearhim, regarded the new-comer with suspicious eyes, but when theywitnessed the cordial greeting which Swanson gave, they dismissed theirsuspicions and entering into the spirit of the evening, applauded asloudly and noisily as the rest.
Scip, who had been attending to the horses outside, now stuck his headthrough the door and shouted:
"Tole you what it was, Massa Doctor, dis yer chile can't tote datbundle in alone, nohow."
"All right, Scip, I'll help you," and disregarding, with a wave of hishands, the proffers of assistance which were tendered him, the doctorstepped onto the porch and found Scip struggling with a large pack,strapped to the back of a broncho, tugging and jerking, and swearingunder his breath at "the old fool rope."
Coming close to him the doctor said aloud:
"Be careful you black imp of Satan; what are you so rough about?" andthen followed in a whisper, "the men are both there, Chip."
Scip, or rather, Chip, adopting the same tactics, replied:
"Honey, I's handlin' dis yeah smoof as cottonseed oil"--whispering,"what a rascally-looking lot."
The Doctor and Scip were none other than the two detectives. When Chipreached Kansas City he hunted around for some suitable disguise whichwould carry him through in safety. In his perplexity he went to thechief of police, with whom he was on the most friendly terms, and putthe case before him.
The chief said:
"About seven years ago there used to be an old fraud named Skinner, asort of horse-doctor, who stepped somewhat over the line and walked offwith some other fellow's nag. He is now putting in his time atJefferson City. He was hale fellow well met with all that gang,especially Swanson, and I think if you could run down to JeffersonCity, put the case before the warden, you could get pointers from him."
That afternoon Chip was in Jefferson City, and walking over to thepenitentiary, found the warden willing, and Skinner was called to thevisitor's cage.
He had three years more to serve, and, on being told that any servicehe could render the State would be taken into account and to hiscredit, he gave Chip a minute and detailed description of his costume,manner of doing business, and brought up many interestingreminiscenses, which Chip carefully noted.
Sam, who had a peculiar talent for disguises, was to take the part ofDoctor Skinner, and Chip as his negro servant could slip in and outwithout attracting much attention.
It was in these assumed characters that the detectives made their entreinto Swanson's habitat.
Further private conversation was barred by the massive form of Swansonfilling the door, and urging his friend the Doctor to let "his nigger"take charge of the stock.
"Can't be did, colonel," said the Doctor, "can't be trusted alone nearthis pack. Scip has too much love for the bottom of the flask to allowhim too much freedom here."
"Well, I'
ll send one of the boys out. Hyar, you, Abe; mosey out tharand yank that pack in hyar."
Abe, a strong, strapping young plainsman, lifted the pack to hisshoulder, and, followed by the "Easy, young man; step lightly; glass,you know; this side up with care," of the doctor, deposited it upon thefloor.
Opening the pack the Doctor held aloft a large square bottle, on whichwas pasted a yellow label, "Dr. Skinner's Incomparable Horse Healer,"commenced rapidly to dilate upon the peculiar excellence of the nostrum.
"Gentleman, what is good for the noble brute is good for man. Thiscompound, this superior selection of seventeen separate solvents iswarranted to dissipate the most chronic complaints. It will inciteslumber, mend the broken heart, cause the hair to grow, is good forchapped hands, sore eyes and ingrowing toe-nails. It is a panacea forall evils and a trial will cost you nothing."
He passed the bottle to Swanson, who stood listening to his glib tonguein amused wonder, and invited him to test the medicine. Nothing loth,the giant took a huge drink.
"Whisky," he shouted, joyfully, "the real, old stuff," and smacking hislips he again applied them to the bottle. It was passed around, and thedoctor at once became the most popular man on the ranche.
Scip, who had finally succeeded in securing his horses to hissatisfaction, during which time he had made a tour of the premises andobtained the lay of the land, now entered the room and pushing his waythrough the crowd gathered around the Doctor and his bottle of "cureall," spread his hands to the fire, standing beside Cummings.
"Where did you pick up the darkey, Doctor?" inquired Swanson,designating Scip by a jerk of his thumb.
"The hard fact is, gentlemen, that we picked each other up. I was 1907and Scip was 1908.
"How's that?"
"I repeat. I was 1907 and Scip was 1908."
"You mean to say you were doing--"
"Simply that and nothing more, I found a halter in the road one day andpicked it up, carrying it with me, and it wasn't until a most officiousindividual in blue coat and brass buttons came along and rudely placeda pair of exquisite steel bracelets on my delicate wrists, that Ilearned that a horse was tied at the other end of the halter, and thegentleman who is supposed to dispense justice in Kansas City urged meto remove to Jefferson City for a time; that is all. The number of myroom was 1907 and my colored friend here had the apartment next tomine."
"Yah, yah," laughed Scip, "we bof did our time together, suah."
This new claim on Swanson's friendship had its effect, and the generousquantities of whisky which he had swallowed having put him into anextraordinary good humor, he threw his arms around the doctor and vowedhe would keep him all his life.
Thus the two detectives by a bold piece of strategy, had gainedentrance to the express robbers' asylum and had been offered the righthand of fellowship. The evening wore on, cards were produced, and theclick of the ivory poker chips was heard above the low hum ofconversation. The doctor did not care to take a hand, and Scip,apparently tired out with his day's journey, had thrown himself on abuffalo-robe in a corner, and seemed fast asleep.
The Doctor, his eyes half closed, and slowly puffing his pipe, closelyand keenly eyed every face in the room; but most of all, he gazed atSwanson, who, partly overcome by liquor, was leaning back in an easy,cane-bottomed chair, looking into the fire. A malignant frown, ever andanon, knit his low brow, and his cruel mouth curled so as to show histeeth, as his thoughts passed through his befuddled brain.
Cummings and Moriarity, who had withdrawn from the main party, hadtheir heads together, earnestly engaged in conversation. Cummings wasevidently endeavoring to persuade his fainter hearted comrade to dosomething, for he often bent a significant look on Swanson, or pointedhis thumb toward him, but Moriarity, whose eyes were half indicative offear, would shake his head as if in expostulation.
The Doctor saw all this, through his half-closed eyes and strained hisears to catch even the slightest shred of their consultation, but theoutlaws talked in such low tones that he was unable to hear anything.
A glance at Skip, who was gently snoring near them, put his mind atrest, for he saw that the darkey was taking in every word that dropped,feigning sleep all the time. A sudden movement by some of the men,roused Swanson, and looking at a huge silver watch, he ordered them allto bed at once. Which command was obeyed by all except Cummings,Moriarity, the Doctor and Scip.
An inner room, fitted with bunks, was used as the dormitory, but thetwo robbers, as special guests had rooms to themselves. Going to acupboard, and bringing out an armful of blankets, Swanson threw them onthe floor.
"There my hearty, you and your boy will have to camp out here to-night.We're crowded, so make yourself comfortable," and then bidding them"Good-night," he staggered to his bed.
Nothing could suit the detectives better than this. A room tothemselves, a warm fire, plenty of blankets and no suspicions of theirtrue character.
Smoothing the blankets over the bear skins, the two friends lay downand a whispered conversation commenced.
"What were Cummings and Moriarity talking about, Chip?" said Sam, in acautious tone.
"Cummings wants to rob the old man, Swanson. He says he's got thousandsof dollars salted somewhere around here and thinks they might as wellmake hay while the sun shines, but Dan was afraid to do it."
"What a precious pair of rascals, but we can use this idea first-rateto get them over the line again."
"I thought of the same thing as they were talking. If you could onlybring it up without awaking any suspicions, we might offer to help himdo the job."
"Trust me for that, old fellow. Even if we have to commit actualrobbery, I'll do it."
"Well, keep your eyes open, and don't be caught sleeping. Go to sleep,now. I'll keep first watch."
This was the regular system of the two operators. While one slept theother kept watch and to this fact a large portion of their success wasdue.
The ranche became quiet, its denizens all sleeping, and the nightpassed without any disturbance.
Jim Cummings; Or, The Great Adams Express Robbery Page 13