A Woman at Bay; Or, A Fiend in Skirts
"I ain't got none, Madge, to swear to what I have said, but every one
here knows it is the solemn truth. I don't need no witnesses. However,
I'll put Handsome on the stand fur a minute, about the way the bunch
arrived at our camp, if you say so."
"I think it would be a good idea. It would be more regular."
"All right, Madge. Handsome, take the stand. Hold up your right hand,
and swear that you'll tell the truth. That's all right. Now, did you
hear what I said about your findin' that outfit in the woods north of
the track?"
"I did."
"Wasn't it the dead-level truth?"
"It was."
"The hull four was there, warn't they?"
"They were."
"And they was all strangers?"
"They were."
"You never seen any one of them afore that time, had you?"
"Never."
"And, later, wasn't it found out that three of 'em were spies?"
"It was."
"And wasn't one of the spies Nick Carter himself?"
"Yes."
"And weren't the other two his assistants?"
"They were."
"Didn't they confess it?"
"They did."
"And weren't they afterward thrown into the quicksand pit to die?"
"They were."
"Did they die there?"
"I don't think they did."
"Don't you know that they escaped?"
"I'm reasonably certain of it."
"How did they escape?"
"I don't know that."
"Isn't it your opinion that this galoot here----"
"I object!" shouted Nick.
"Oh, well," exclaimed Mike, in disgust, "ask him some questions
yourself, then."
"I will. Handsome, when did you first see them four in the woods north
o' the track?"
"Oh, I don't know. Before dark that night."
"Was they together?"
"Part of the time."
"Only part o' the time? What do you mean by that?"
"They didn't come there together."
"Oh, didn't they? Where was you?"
"I was hiding, and watching them."
"So you saw 'em all when they arrived there, did you?"
"Yes."
"Who got there first?"
"This man--Pat."
"Did the others appear to know him?"
"No; but they didn't appear to know each other, either."
"But if they were spies, and you afterward proved that they were, and if
they got there, and found Pat already there, it would be natural that
they should act as if they didn't know each other, wouldn't it, in order
to deceive him?"
"I suppose so."
"Have you ever seen anything suspicious about the prisoner?"
"No; only his disappearance after the fire and the arrest of Madge."
"P'r'aps he kin explain that."
"He can't. He has tried already. You heard him. I don't call that an
explanation, but it is probably the best he can give."
"Would you be afraid to trust him now?"
"Personally? I don't think I would."
"Then, personally, you don't think that he is a spy?"
"No; but I don't _know_ that he isn't."
"That'll do. I don't want to ask you any more questions." He turned to
Cremation Mike. "Have you got any more witnesses?" he asked.
"No," with a grin. "I don't need no more."
"Maybe not. But I've got one witness."
"Oh! Have you. Who is it?"
"I'm going to put the prisoner on the stand."
But Madge was plainly tired of the amusement already. She rose in her
place, and her eyes were flashing darkly.
"We will stop this farce here and now," she said. "It won't do any good,
anyhow. I can see plainly enough that there are some here who believe he
is a spy. I am a good deal of that opinion myself; and as there is a
doubt in my mind, I'll just settle the thing right now. Jury, you can
find the man guilty. That's what he is, probably."
"Guilty," said the jury, with one voice, and grinning.
"Prisoner," continued Madge, "you have got until to-morrow morning, at
nine o'clock, to live. At that time the boys will take you to some
convenient tree, and hang you by the neck until you're dead--and that
settles it."
Things looked dark for Patsy. It was quite evident that Black Madge was
in deadly earnest in what she had said. One life more or less was
absolutely nothing to her, and if there was the breath of a suspicion
against one, it was, from her standpoint, better to put that one out of
the way at once than to run any sort of risk by permitting him to live.
Nor did the hoboes who had gathered there to hear and to witness the
trial hesitate to voice their sentiments about it by loud cheering when
Madge uttered the sentence of death. It would be a hanging, indeed, and
it did not make much difference to them who was hung. It has been said
before that they were much like wild beasts, or dogs, who are without
any quality of compassion.
When Nick walked away from the scene of the trial near the fire, he
found that Handsome was beside him, and then, before either uttered a
word, Madge joined them.
She was smiling as if she were well pleased with her evening's work, and
she said to the detective:
"You did well, Turner. One would suppose that you had at some time been
a lawyer."
"I'd 'a' got the man free if I'd had a fair judge and jury," replied
Nick boldly, stroking the white whiskers he wore.
Madge frowned. Then she laughed aloud.
"I like you for your boldness," she said. "But have a care that you do
not find yourself suddenly in the same predicament, Turner."
"I'd be inclined to shoot myself afore I came to trial, if I should,"
Nick retorted.
They had reached Madge's cabin by this time, and now they mounted to the
porch, and Nick pulled out an old pipe that Turner had given him, filled
it, and lighted it.
The detective was determined in his own mind that before the dawn of
another day he would find some way to save Patsy; but how it was to be
done he had no idea.
He did not know yet what disposition they intended to make of him. For
all he knew they might send him into one of the cabins and lock him up
for the night. But he did know that unless he acted, Patsy would be
murdered at sunrise the following morning, and he did not intend to
permit that to happen.
"Miss Madge," he said, after a pause, during which he had smoked in
silence, "if it is all the same to you, I'd like to know what you intend
to do with me to-night. I'm an old man, and I'm sorter 'customed to
going to bed rayther early, so, if you don't mind, and you'll tell me
where I'm to sleep, I think I'll turn in."
Instead of replying directly to him, Madge turned to Handsome.
"What shall we do with him?" she asked. "You are responsible for his
being here. I think I will turn him over to you."
"All right," said Handsome, rising. "I'll take him to my own cabin.
He'll be safe enough there. I'll be back in a minute, Madge."
Nick followed him across the floor of the little valley to a hut that
was at the opposite side of it, and close to the cliff--and Nick knew at
once, from his recollection of the plan he had studied, that he was
quite near to the entrance to the cavern.
The cabin consisted of only one room, in which two bunks had been
roughly built, and, after lighting a candle, Handsome indicated one of
these, and said:
"You can sleep there, Turner. Turn in when you like. To-morrow we will
explore the caves together."
"Right you are," said Nick, yawning widely. "I shan't need any rocking
this night. My old legs are tired out for sure."
Two minutes after the departure of Handsome, Nick blew out the candle,
and for a time he stretched himself in the bunk, lest Handsome should
return to see that all was right. But it was speedily evident to the
detective that Handsome had no suspicion whatever of him, and had,
therefore, left him to his own devices.
But Nick knew that it could not be very long before the outlaw would
return to seek his own rest and repose, and that he must, therefore,
determine upon what he was to do before he should return.
Ten minutes he lay there, and then he rose slowly and cautiously from
the bunk and crept to the door which had been left open, and peered out.
The fires were still blazing merrily, and many of the men were gathered
around them. Some of the men were playing cards, and the others were
engaged in various ways. At all events, they one and all seemed to have
forgotten his existence, and that was what he chiefly desired.
Nick knew in which cabin Patsy was a prisoner. He could see it from the
doorway where he was standing, almost opposite him at the other side of
the valley. The distance in feet from his own position was about the
distance of a city block--two hundred feet.
The old silver watch, the size of a turnip, which Turner had carried
forty years or more, was in his pocket, and by the light of the stars
Nick managed to see the time--ten o'clock.
"There is no time like the present," he mused to himself, while he
hesitated in the doorway. "If I wait until all is quiet, I will stand
all the more chance of being discovered; and, besides, it won't be long
until Handsome returns here, and after he has come and crawled into his
bunk it will be next to impossible for me to get out of here without
rousing him--unless I should drug him, and that will not do at all.
Handsome is altogether too fly for that. He would know that he had been
drugged.
"Now, if it wasn't for these white whiskers, I could creep around the
edge of the bottom of the cliff to the cabin where Patsy is, without
being noticed; and I dare not take them off----"
He stopped there. There was absolutely no use in conjecturing upon the
"ifs" of the question, and so, after another moment, during which he
studied the lay of the land intently, he slipped noiselessly out at the
door and around behind the cabin, and from there crept on his hands and
knees to the bottom of the cliffs. And there he discovered what he had
been unable to see in the imperfect light. The grass there was quite
tall, where it had not been trampled by the feet of the motley crew that
infested the place, and he found that by lying at full length and
pulling himself slowly along on his stomach he would be able to conceal
himself almost entirely from view.
Nick made that half circle of the small valley, crawling in that way,
and entirely without being discovered; and in that manner he arrived
directly in the rear of the cabin where Patsy was a prisoner.
But here a new difficulty confronted him. There was a guard in front of
the door, and that guard, strangely enough, was Cremation Mike.
The cabin in which Patsy was a prisoner was built of roughly hewn logs,
the crevices and chinks being stopped with mud and clay. The ground
beneath it was hard--rocky, in fact; so there was no possibility of
digging under the logs without tools to do it, and even then it would
have taken too much time to accomplish it.
Nick turned his attention to Cremation Mike. He was seated upon a
convenient stump, smoking a short pipe. His back was toward the door of
the cabin, and he was about ten feet from it. The door itself had been
fastened by passing a freshly cut sapling across its front, and slipping
either end of it into rustic slots that had been hastily fashioned for
the purpose.
It was plain that there was only one way to get Patsy outside of that
cabin, and that was to overcome Cremation Mike; and, having determined
upon this, Nick crept forward as silently as a shadow, and so rounded
the corner of the cabin, and presently came up half standing, directly
behind the unsuspecting outlaw.
Nick did not wish to kill the man, but he did want to knock him out so
effectually that he could not interfere in what was to follow, and
therefore he had picked up a piece of round, smooth stone, which he had
wrapped in his handkerchief.
And now, with this improvised weapon, he struck Cremation Mike sharply
on the back of his head, with the result that Mike pitched forward, and
would have fallen to the ground had not Nick managed to catch him. Then
he laid him down gently upon the ground, and turning swiftly, opened the
door of the cabin.