The Daughter of Anderson Crow

"Damned rotten luck; but if we had to be taken, I'm glad you did it, Crow. You're a good fool, anyway. But for God's sake, get me to a doctor." "Dang it! I'm sorry fer you, Mr. Gregory--" began Anderson, ready to cry. "Don't waste your time, old man. I need the doctor. Are the others dead?" he groaned. "I don't know," replied Jackie Blake. "Some of them look like it. We can't carry you up that hill, but we'll do the next best thing. Marshal, I'll stay here and guard the prisoners while you run to the village for help--and doctors." "And run fast, Anderson," added Gregory. "You always were so devilish slow. Don't walk-trot." Soon afterward, when Anderson, fagged but overjoyed, hobbled into the village, the excited crowd was ready to lynch him, but with his first words the atmosphere changed. "Where is Jackie Blake?" sobbed a pretty young woman, grasping the proud marshal's arm and shaking him violently. "Derned if I know, ma'am. Was he stole?" She made him understand, and together, followed by the actors, the audience and the whole town, they led the way to the washout, the fair Rosalind dragging the overworked hero of the hour along at a gait which threatened to be his undoing. Later on, after the five bandits had been carried to the village, Jackie Blake gladly informed his sweetheart that they could have easy sailing with the seven thousand dollars he expected. Anderson Crow had agreed to take but three thousand dollars for his share in the capture. One of the robbers was dead. The body of the sixth was found in the river weeks afterward. "I'm glad I was the first on the ground," said Blake, in anticipation of the reward which was eventually to be handed over to him. "But Anderson Crow turned out to be a regular trump, after all. He's a corker!" He was speaking to Wicker Bonner and a crowd of New Yorkers. Tinkletown began to talk of a monument to Anderson Crow, even while he lived. The general opinion was that it should be erected while he was still able to enjoy it and not after his death, when he would not know anything about its size and cost. "By gosh! 'Twas a great capture!" swelling perceptibly. "I knowed they couldn't escape me. Dang 'em! they didn't figger on me, did they? Pshaw! it was reediculus of 'em to think they c'd fool me entirely, although I'll have to confess they did fool me at first. It was a desprit gang an' mighty slick." "You worked it great, Anderson," said George Ray. "Did you know about the washout?" "Did I know about it?" snorted Anderson witheringly. "Why, good Gosh a'mighty, didn't I purty near run my legs off to git there in time to throw down the barricade before they could get there with Mr. Bracken's automobile? Thunderation! What a fool question!" CHAPTER XXXIII Bill Briggs Tells a Tale Tinkletown fairly bubbled with excitement. At last the eyes of the world were upon it. News of the great sensation was flashed to the end of the earth; every detail was gone into with harrowing minuteness. The Hemisphere Company announced by telegraph that it stood ready to hand over the ten thousand dollars; and the sheriff of Bramble County with all the United States deputy marshals within reach raced at once to Tinkletown to stick a finger in the pie. The morning after the "great pavilion robbery," as it was called in the _Banner_, Anderson Crow and Bonner fared forth early to have a look at the injured desperadoes, all of whom were safely under guard at the reincarnated calaboose. Fifty armed men had stood guard all night long, notwithstanding the fact that one robber was dead and the others so badly injured that they were not expected to survive the day. A horseman passed the marshal and his friend near the post-office, riding rapidly to the north. He waved his crop pleasantly to them and Bonner responded. Anderson stopped stock still and tried to speak, but did not succeed for a full minute; he was dumb with excitement. "That's him!" he managed to gasp. "The feller I saw the other day--the man on horseback!" "That?" cried Bonner, laughing heartily. "Why, that is John E. Barnes, the lawyer and probably a United States Senator some day. Good heavens, Mr. Crow, you've made a bad guess of it this time! He is staying with Judge Brewster, his father-in-law." "What! Well, by Geminy! I thought I knowed him," cried Anderson. "They cain't fool me long, Wick--none of 'em. He's the same feller 'at run away with Judge Brewster's daughter more'n twenty year ago. 'y Gosh, I was standin' right on this very spot the first time I ever see him. He sold me a hoss and buggy--but I got the money back. I arrested him the same day." "Arrested John Barnes?" in amazement. "Yep--fer murder--only he wasn't the murderer. We follered him down the river--him an' the girl--to Bracken's place, but they were married afore we got there. Doggone, that was a busy day! Some blamed good detective work was did, too. I--" "And Mr. Barnes was interested in Rosalie?" asked Bonner suddenly. "How could he have known anything about her?" "That's what puzzles me. She came here about two years after the elopement more er less, but I don't remember ever seein' him after that time." "It's very strange, Mr. Crow," reflected Bonner soberly. "He has a son, I know. His wife died a year or so after the boy's birth. Young Barnes is about twenty-one, I think at this time. By George! I've heard it said that Barnes and his wife were not hitting it off very well. They say she died of a broken heart. I've heard mother speak of it often. I wonder--great heavens, it isn't possible that Rosalie can be connected in any way with John Barnes? Anderson Crow, I--I wonder if there is a possibility?" Bonner was quivering with excitement, wonder--and--unbelief. "I'm workin' on that clew," said Anderson as calmly as his tremors would permit. He was thrilled by the mere suggestion, but it was second nature for him to act as if every discovery were his own. "Ever sence I saw him on the road up there, I've been trackin' him. I tell you, Wick, he's my man. I've got it almost worked out. Just as soon as these blamed robbers are moved to Boggs City, er buried, I'm goin' over an' git the truth out of Mr. Barnes. I've been huntin' him fer twenty-one years." Anderson, of course, was forgetting that Barnes had slipped from his mind completely until Bonner nudged his memory into life. "It's a delicate matter, Mr. Crow. We must go about it carefully," said Bonner severely. "If Mr. Barnes is really interested in her, we can't find it out by blundering; if he is not interested, we can't afford to drag him into it. It will require tact--" "Thunderation, don't you suppose I know that?" exploded Anderson. "Detectives are allers tackin'. They got to, y' see, ef they're goin' to foller half a dozen clews at oncet. Gee whiz, Wick, leave this thing to me! I'll git at the bottom of it inside o' no time." "Wait a few days, Mr. Crow," argued Bonner, playing for time. "Don't hurry. We've got all we can do now to take care of the fellows you and that young actor captured last night." The young man's plan was to keep Anderson off the trail entirely and give the seemingly impossible clew into the possession of the New York bureau. "I don't know what I'd 'a' done ef it hadn't been fer that young feller," said the marshal. "He was right smart help to me last night." Bonner, who knew the true story, suppressed a smile and loved the old man none the less for his mild deception. They entered the "calaboose," which now had all the looks and odours of a hospital. A half-dozen doctors had made the four injured men as comfortable as possible. They were stretched on mattresses in the jail dining-room, guarded by a curious horde of citizens. "That's Gregory!" whispered Anderson, as they neared the suffering group. He pointed to the most distant cot. "That's jest the way he swore last night. He must 'a' shaved in the automobile last night," though Gregory had merely discarded the false whiskers he had worn for days. "Wait!" exclaimed Bonner, stopping short beside the first cot. He stooped and peered intently into the face of the wounded bandit. "By George!" "What's up?" "As I live, Mr. Crow, this fellow was one of the gang that abducted Rosalie Gray last winter. I can swear to it. Don't you remember the one she tried to intercede for? Briggs! That's it! Briggs!" The injured man slowly opened his eyes as the name was half shouted. A sickly grin spread slowly over his pain-racked face. "She tried to intercede fer me, did she?" he murmured weakly. "She said she would. She was square." "You were half decent to her," said Bonner. "How do you happen to be with this gang? Another kidnaping scheme afloat?" "No--not that I know of. Ain't you the guy that fixed us? Say, on the dead, I was goin' to do the right thing by her that night. I was duckin' the gang when you slugged me. Honest, mister, I was goin' to put her friends next. Say, I don't know how bad I'm hurt, but if I ever git to trial, do what you can fer me, boss. On the dead, I was her friend." Bonner saw pity in Anderson's face and rudely dragged him away, although Bill's plea was not addressed to the old marshal. "Wait for me out here, Mr. Crow," said he when they reached the office. "You are overcome. I'll talk to him." He returned at once to the injured man's cot. "Look here, Briggs, I'll do what I can for you, but I'm afraid it won't help much. What do the doctors say?" "If they ain't lyin', I'll be up an' about in a few weeks. Shoulder and some ribs cracked and my legs stove up. I can't move. God, that was an awful tumble!" He shuddered in memory of the auto's leap. "Is Sam or Davy in this gang?" "No; Davy's at Blackwell's Island, an' Sam told me he was goin' to Canada fer his health. Jim Courtney is the leader of this gang. He sailed under the name of Gregory. That's him swearin' at the rubes." "The thing for you to do is to make a clean breast of it, Briggs. It will go easier with you." "Turn State's evidence? What good will that do when we was all caught with the goods?" "If you will tell us all of the inside facts concerning the abduction I'll guarantee that something can be done to lighten your sentence. I am Congressman Bonner's nephew." "So? I thought you was the swellest hold-up man I ever met, that night out in the woods. You'd do credit to Sam Welch himself. I'll tell you all I know, pardner, but it ain't a great deal. It won't do me any good to keep my mouth shut now, an', if you say so, it may help me to squeal. But, fer the Lord's sake, have one of these rotten doctors give me something to make me sleep. Don't they know what morphine is for?" Growling and cursing at the doctors, Bill was moved into the office. Anderson came in from the dining-room at that juncture, visibly excited. "I've got a confession from Gregory," he said. "He confesses that he oughter be hung." "What!" "That's what he said--'y ginger. Here's his very words, plain as day: 'I oughter be hung half a dozen times.' 'What fer?' says I. 'Fer bein' sech a damned ass,' said he. 'But that ain't a hangable offence,' said I. You know, I kinder like Gregory, spite of all. 'It's the worst crime in the world,' said he. 'Then you confess you've committed it?' said I, anxious to pin him right down to it, y' see.' 'ou bet I do. Ef they hang me it'll be because I'm a drivelling idiot, an' not because I've shot one er two in my time. Nobody but an ass could be caught at it, an' that's why I feel so infernal guilty. Look here, Mr. Crow, ever' time you see a feller that's proved himself a downright ass, jest take him out an' lynch him. He deserves it, that's all I've got to say. The