The Daughter of Anderson Crow
"Are you goin' after 'em, Anderson?" asked old Mr. Borton, with
unfailing faith in the town's chief officer.
"Them fellers is in Asia by this time," vouchsafed Mr. Crow scornfully,
forgetting that less than a week had elapsed since the robbery. He
flecked a fly from his detective's badge and then struck viciously at
the same insect when it straightway attacked his G.A.R. emblem.
"I doubt it," said Mr. Lamson. "Like as not they're right here in this
State, mebby in this county. You can't tell about them slick
desperadoes. Hello, Harry! Has anything more been heard from the train
robbers?" Harry Squires approached the group with something like news in
his face.
"I should say so," he said. "The darned cusses robbed the State Express
last night at Vanderskoop and got away with thirteen hundred dollars.
Say, they're wonders! The engineer says they're only five of them."
"Why, gosh dern it, Vanderskoop's only the fourth station west of Boggs
City!" exclaimed Anderson Crow, pricking up his official ear. "How in
thunder do you reckon they got up here in such a short time?"
"They probably stopped off on their way back from Asia," drily remarked
Mr. Lamson; but it passed unnoticed.
"Have you heard anything more about the show, Harry?" asked Jim Borum.
"Is she sure to be here?" What did Tinkletown care about the train
robbers when a "show" was headed that way?
"Sure. The press comments are very favourable," said Harry. "They all
say that Miss Marmaduke, who plays Rosalind, is great. We've got a cut
of her and, say, she's a beauty. I can see myself sitting in the front
row next Thursday night, good and proper."
"Say, Anderson, I think it's a dern shame fer Mark Riley to go 'round
pastin' them reward bills over the show pictures," growled Isaac Porter.
"He ain't got a bit o' sense."
With one accord the crowd turned to inspect two adjacent bill boards.
Mark had either malignantly or insanely pasted the reward notices over
the nether extremities of Rosalind as she was expected to appear in the
Forest of Arden. There was a period of reflection on the part of an
outraged constituency.
"I don't see how he's goin' to remove off them reward bills without
scraping off her legs at the same time," mused Anderson Crow in
perplexity. Two housewives of Tinkletown suddenly deserted the group and
entered the store. And so it was that the train robbers were forgotten
for the time being.
But Marshal Crow's reputation as a horse-thief taker and general
suppressor of crime constantly upbraided him. It seemed to call upon him
to take steps toward the capture of the train robbers. All that
afternoon he reflected. Tinkletown, seeing his mood, refrained from
breaking in upon it. He was allowed to stroke his whiskers in peace and
to think to his heart's content. By nightfall his face had become an
inscrutable mask, and then it was known that the President of Bramble
County's Horse-Thief Detective Association was determined to fathom the
great problem. Stealthily he went up to the great attic in his home and
inspected his "disguises." In some far-off period of his official career
he had purchased the most amazing collection of false beards, wigs and
garments that any stranded comedian ever disposed of at a sacrifice. He
tried each separate article, seeking for the best individual effect;
then he tried them collectively. It would certainly have been
impossible to recognise him as Anderson Crow. In truth, no one could
safely have identified him as a human being.
"I'm goin' after them raskils," he announced to Andrew Gregory and the
whole family, as he came down late to take his place at the head of the
supper table.
"Ain't you goin' to let 'em show here, pop?" asked Roscoe in distress.
"Show here? What air you talkin' about?"
"He means the train robbers, Roscoe," explained the lad's mother. The
boy breathed again.
"They are a dangerous lot," volunteered Gregory, who had been in Albany
for two days. "The papers are full of their deeds. Cutthroats of the
worst character."
"I'd let them alone, Anderson," pleaded his wife. "If you corner them,
they'll shoot, and it would be jest like you to follow them right into
their lair."
"Consarn it, Eva, don't you s'pose that I c'n shoot, too?" snorted
Anderson. "What you reckon I've been keepin' them loaded revolvers out
in the barn all these years fer? Jest fer ornaments? Not much! They're
to shoot with, ef anybody asks you. Thunderation, Mr. Gregory, you ain't
no idee how a feller can be handicapped by a timid wife an' a lot o'
fool childern. I'm almost afeard to turn 'round fer fear they'll be
skeered to death fer my safety."
"You cut yourself with a razor once when ma told you not to try to shave
the back of your neck by yourself," said one of the girls. "She wanted
you to let Mr. Beck shave it for you, but you wouldn't have it that
way."
"Do you suppose I want an undertaker shavin' my neck? I'm not that
anxious to be shaved. Beck's the undertaker, Mr. Gregory."
"Well, he runs the barber shop, too," insisted the girl.
During the next three days Tinkletown saw but little of its marshal,
fire chief and street commissioner. That triple personage was off on
business of great import. Early, each morning, he mysteriously stole
away to the woods, either up or down the river, carrying a queer bundle
under the seat of his "buckboard." Two revolvers, neither of which had
been discharged for ten years, reposed in a box fastened to the
dashboard. Anderson solemnly but positively refused to allow any one to
accompany him, nor would he permit any one to question him. Farmers
coming to town spoke of seeing him in the lanes and in the woods, but he
had winked genially when they had asked what he was trailing.
"He's after the train robbers," explained all Tinkletown soberly.
Whereupon the farmers and their wives did not begrudge Anderson Crow the
chicken dinners he had eaten with them, nor did they blame him for
bothering the men in the fields. It was sufficient that he found excuse
to sleep in the shade of their trees during his still hunt.
"Got any track of 'em?" asked George Ray one evening, stopping at
Anderson's back gate to watch the marshal unhitch his thankful nag.
Patience had ceased to be a virtue with George.
"Any track of who?" asked Mr. Crow with a fine show of innocence.
"The robbers."
"I ain't been trackin' robbers, George."
"What in thunder have you been trackin' all over the country every day,
then?"
"I'm breakin' this colt," calmly replied the marshal, with a mighty wink
at old Betty, whom he had driven to the same buckboard for twenty years.
As George departed with an insulted snort, Andrew Gregory came from the
barn, where he had been awaiting the return of Mr. Crow."
"I'm next to something big," he announced in a low tone, first looking
in all directions to see that no one was listening.
"Gosh! Did you land Mr. Farnsworth?"
"It has nothing to do with insurance," hastily explained the agent.
"I've heard something of vast importance to you."
"You don't mean to say the troupe has busted?"
"No--no; it is in connection with--with--" and here Mr. Gregory leaned
forward and whispered something in Anderson's ear. Mr. Crow promptly
stopped dead still in his tracks, his eyes bulging. Betty, who was being
led to the water trough, being blind and having no command to halt,
proceeded to bump forcibly against her master's frame.
CHAPTER XXXI
"As You Like It"
"You--don't--say--so! Whoa! dang ye! Cain't you see where you're goin',
you old rip?" Betty was jerked to a standstill. "What have you heerd?"
asked Anderson, his voice shaking with interest.
"I can't tell you out here," said the other cautiously. "Put up the nag
and then meet me in the pasture out there. We can sit down and talk and
not be overheard."
"I won't be a minute. Here, you Roscoe! Feed Betty and water her first.
Step lively, now. Tell your ma we'll be in to supper when we git good
an' ready."
Anderson and Andrew Gregory strode through the pasture gate and far out
into the green meadow. Once entirely out of hearing, Gregory stopped and
both sat down upon a little hillock. The agent was evidently suppressing
considerable excitement.
"Those train robbers are in this neighbourhood," he said, breaking a
long silence. Anderson looked behind involuntarily. "I don't mean that
they are in this pasture, Mr. Crow. You've been a good friend to me, and
I'm inclined to share the secret with you. If we go together, we may
divide the ten-thousand-dollar reward, because I'm quite sure we can
land those chaps."
"What's your plan?" asked Anderson, turning a little pale at the
thought. Before going any further into the matter, Gregory asked
Anderson if he would sign a paper agreeing to divide the reward equally
with him. This point was easily settled, and then the insurance man
unfolded his secret.
"I have a straight tip from a friend in New York and he wouldn't steer
me wrong. The truth about him is this: He used to work for our company,
but took some money that didn't belong to him. It got him a sentence in
the pen. He's just out, and he knows a whole lot about these robbers.
Some of them were in Sing Sing with him. The leader wanted him to join
the gang and he half-way consented. His duty is to keep the gang posted
on what the officers in New York are doing. See?"
"Of course," breathed Anderson.
"Well, my friend wants to reform. All he asks is a slice of the reward.
If we capture the gang, we can afford to give him a thousand or so,
can't we?"
"Of course," was the dignified response.
"Here's his letter to me. I'll read it to you." In the gathering dusk
Gregory read the letter to the marshal of Tinkletown. "Now, you see," he
said, at the close of the astounding epistle, "this means that if we
observe strict secrecy, we may have the game in our hands. No one must
hear a word of this. They may have spies right here in Tinkletown. We
can succeed only by keeping our mouths sealed."
"Tighter'n beeswax," promised Anderson Crow.
Briefly, the letter to Andrew Gregory was an exposure of the plans of
the great train-robber gang, together with their whereabouts on a
certain day to come. They were to swoop down on Tinkletown on the night
of the open-air performance of "As You Like It," and their most
desperate coup was to be the result. The scheme was to hold up and rob
the entire audience while the performance was going on. Anderson Crow
was in a cold perspiration. The performance was but three days off, and
he felt that he required three months for preparation.
"How in thunder are we goin' to capture that awful gang, jest you an'
me?" he asked, voicing his doubts and fears.
"We'll have to engage help, that's all."
"We'll need a regiment."
"Don't you think it. Buck up, old fellow, don't be afraid."
"Afeerd? Me? I don't know what it is to be skeered. Didn't you ever hear
about how I landed them fellers that kidnaped my daughter Rosalie? Well,
you jest ast some one 'at knows about it. Umph! I guess that was a
recommend fer bravery. But these fellers will be ready fer us, won't
they?"
"We can trick them easily. I've been thinking of a plan all afternoon.
We don't know just where they are now, so we can't rake them in
to-night. We'll have to wait until they come to us. My plan is to have a
half-dozen competent private detectives up from New York. We can scatter
them through the audience next Thursday night, and when the right time
comes we can land on every one of those fellows like hawks on spring
chickens. I know the chief of a big private agency in New York, and I
think the best plan is to have him send up some good men. It won't cost
much, and I'd rather have those fearless practical men here than all the