The Daughter of Anderson Crow
would go wrong!" she wailed. They were now standing like trapped deer in
a little thicket, listening for sounds of the hounds.
"Are you sorry, dear?"
"No, no! I love you, Jack, and I'll go through everything with you and
for you. Really," she cried with a fine show of enthusiasm, "this is
jolly good fun, isn't it? Being chased like regular bandits--"
"Sh! Drop down, dear! There's somebody passing above us--hear him?"
They crawled into a maze of hazel bushes with much less dignity than
haste. Two men sped by an instant later, panting and growling.
"Safe for a minute or two at least," he whispered as the crunching
footsteps were lost to the ear. "They won't come back this way, dear."
"They had guns, Jack!" she whispered, terrified.
"I don't understand it, hanged if I do," he said, pulling his brows into
a mighty scowl. "They are after us like a pack of hounds. It must mean
something. Lord, but we seem to have stirred up a hornet's nest!"
"Oh, dear, I wish we were safely at--" she paused.
"At home?" he asked quickly.
"At Bracken's," she finished; and if any of the pursuers had been near
enough he might have heard the unmistakable suggestion of a kiss.
"I feel better," he said, squaring his shoulders. "Now, let me think. We
must outwit these fellows, whoever they are. By George, I remember one
of them! That old fellow who bought the horse is with them. That's it!
The horse is mixed up in this, I'll bet my head." They sat upon the
ground for several minutes, he thinking deeply, she listening with her
pretty ears intent.
"I wonder if they've left anybody to guard our boat?" he said suddenly.
"Come on, Marjory; let's investigate! By George, it would be just like
them to leave it unprotected!"
Once more they were moving cautiously through the brush, headed for the
river. Mr. Jack Barnes, whoever he was and whatever his crime, was a
resourceful, clever young man. He had gauged the intelligence of the
pursuers correctly. When he peered through the brush along the river
bank he saw the skiff in the reeds below, just as they had left it.
There was the lunch basket, the wee bit of a steamer trunk with all its
labels, a parasol and a small handbag.
"Goody, goody!" Marjory cried like a happy child.
"Don't show yourself yet, dearie. I'll make sure. They may have an
ambuscade. Wait here for me."
He crept down the bank and back again before she could fully subdue the
tremendous thumping his temerity had started in her left side.
"It's safe and sound," he whispered joyously. "The idiots have forgotten
the boat. Quick, dear; let's make a dash for it! Their raft is upstream
a hundred yards, and it is also deserted. If we can once get well across
the river we can give them the laugh."
"But they may shoot us from the bank," she protested as they plunged
through the weeds.
"They surely wouldn't shoot a woman!" he cried gayly.
"But you are not a woman!"
"And I'm not afraid of mice or men. Jump in!"
Off from the weeds shot the light skiff. The water splashed for a moment
under the spasmodic strokes of the oarsman, and then the little boat
streaked out into the river like a thing of life. Marjory sat in the
stern and kept her eyes upon the bank they were leaving. Jack Barnes
drove every vestige of his strength into the stroke; somehow he pulled
like a man who had learned how on a college crew. They were half way
across the broad river before they were seen from the hills. The half
dozen men who lingered at the base of Crow's Cliff had shouted the alarm
to their friends on the other side, and the fugitives were sighted once
more. But it was too late. The boat was well out of gunshot range and
making rapid progress downstream in the shelter of the high bluffs below
Crow's Cliff. Jack Barnes was dripping with perspiration, but his stroke
was none the feebler.
"They see us!" she cried.
"Don't wriggle so, Marjory--trim boat!" he panted. "They can't hit us,
and we can go two miles to their one."
"And we can get to Bracken's!" she cried triumphantly. A deep flush
overspread her pretty face.
"Hooray!" he shouted with a grin of pure delight. Far away on the
opposite bank Anderson Crow and his sleuths were congregating, their
baffled gaze upon the man who had slipped out of their grasp. The men
of the posse were pointing at the boat and arguing frantically; there
were decided signs of dispute among them. Finally two guns flew up, and
then came the puffs of smoke, the reports and little splashes of water
near the flying skiff.
"Oh, they are shooting!" she cried in a panic.
"And rifles, too," he grated, redoubling his pull on the oars. Other
shots followed, all falling short. "Get down in the bottom of the boat,
Marjory. Don't sit up there and be--"
"I'll sit right where I am," she cried defiantly.
Anderson Crow waved to the men under Crow's Cliff, and they began to
make their arduous way along the bank in the trail of the skiff. Part of
the armed posse hurried down and boarded the raft, while others followed
the chase by land.
"We'll beat them to Bracken's by a mile," cried Jack Barnes.
"If they don't shoot us," she responded. "Why, oh, why are they so
intent upon killing us?"
"They don't want you to be a widow and--break a--lot of hearts," he
said. "If they--hit me now you--won't be--dangerous as a--widow."
"Oh, you heartless thing! How can you jest about it? I'd--I'd go into
mourning, anyway, Jack," she concluded, on second thought. "We are just
as good as married, you see."
"It's nice--of you to say it, dear--but we're a long--way
from--Bracken's. Gee! That was close!"
A bullet splashed in the water not ten feet from the boat. "The cowards!
They're actually trying to kill us!" For the first time his face took
on a look of alarm and his eyes grew desperate. "I can't let them shoot
at you, Marjory, dear! What the dickens they want I don't know, but I'm
going to surrender." He had stopped rowing and was making ready to wave
his white handkerchief on high.
"Never!" she cried with blazing eyes. "Give me the oars!" She slid into
the other rowing seat and tried to snatch the oars from the rowlocks.
"Bravo! I could kiss you a thousand times for that. Come on, you
Indians! You're a darling, Marjory." Again the oars caught the water,
and Jack Barnes's white handkerchief lay in the bottom of the boat. He
was rowing for dear life, and there was a smile on his face.
The raft was left far behind and the marksmen were put out of range with
surprising ease. Fifteen minutes later the skiff shot across the river
and up to the landing of Bracken's boathouse, while a mile back in the
brush Anderson Crow and his men were wrathfully scrambling in pursuit.
"Hey, Bracken! Jimmy!" shouted Jack Barnes, jumping out upon the little
wharf. Marjory gave him her hands and was whisked ashore and into his
arms. "Run into the boathouse, dear. I'll yank this stuff ashore. Where
the dickens is Bracken?"
The boathouse door opened slowly and a sleepy young man looked forth.
"I thought you'd never come," he yawned.
"Wake up, you old loafer! We're here and we are pursued! Where are
George and Amy?" cried Mr. Barnes, doing herculean duty as a baggage
smasher.
"Pursued?" cried the sleepy young man, suddenly awake.
"Yes, and shot at!" cried Marjory, running past him and into the arms of
a handsome young woman who was emerging from the house.
"We've no time to lose, Jimmy! They are on to us, Heaven knows how. They
are not more than ten minutes behind us. Get it over with, Jimmy, for
Heaven's sake! Here, George, grab this trunk!"
CHAPTER IV
Anderson Rectifies an Error
In a jiffy the fugitives and their property were transferred to the
interior of the roomy boathouse, the doors bolted, and George Crosby
stationed at a window to act as lookout.
"Is it your father?" demanded the Rev. James Bracken, turning to
Marjory. Young Mrs. Crosby was looking on eagerly.
"Mr. Brewster is at home and totally oblivious to all this," cried Jack
Barnes. "I don't know what it means. Here's the license, Jimmy. Are you
ready, Marjory?"
"This is rather a squeamish business, Jack--" began the young minister
in the negligée shirt. He was pulling on his coat as he made the remark.
"Oh, hurry, Jimmy; please hurry!" cried Marjory Brewster.
"Don't wait a second, Jimmy Bracken!" cried Amy Crosby, dancing with
excitement. "You can't go back on them now!"
Three minutes later there was no Marjory Brewster, but there was a Mrs.
John Ethelbert Barnes--and she was kissing her husband rapturously.
"Now, tell us everything," cried Mrs. Crosby after the frantic
congratulations. The Reverend "Jimmy" Bracken, of the Eleventh
Presbyterian Church, was the only one who seemed uncertain as to his
position. In the first place, old Judge Brewster was a man of influence
in the metropolis, from which all had fled for a sojourn in the hills.
He and his daughter were Episcopalians, but that made them none the less
important in the eyes of "Jimmy" Bracken. In the second place, Jack
Barnes was a struggling lawyer, in the Year of our Lord 1880, and
possessed of objectionable poverty. The young men had been room-mates at
college. Friendship had overcome discretion in this instance, at least.
The deed being done, young Mr. Bracken was beginning to wonder if it had
not been overdone, so to speak.
"I wish somebody would tell me!" exclaimed Jack Barnes, with a perplexed
frown. "The beastly jays shot at us and all that. You'd think I was an
outlaw. And they blazed away at Marjory, too, hang them!"
Marjory, too excited to act like a blushing bride, took up the story and
told all that had happened. George Crosby became so interested that he
forgot to keep guard.
"This is a funny mess!" he exclaimed. "There's something wrong--"
"Hey, you!" came a shout from the outside.
"There they are!" cried Marjory, flying to her husband's side. "What are
we to do?"
"You mean, what are they to do? We're married, and they can't get around
that, you know. Let 'em come!" cried the groom exultantly. "You don't
regret it, do you, sweetheart?" quite anxiously. She smiled up into his
eyes, and he felt very secure.
"What do you fellows want?" demanded Crosby from the window. Anderson
Crow was standing on the river bank like a true Napoleon, flanked by
three trusty riflemen.
"Who air you?" asked Anderson in return. He was panting heavily, and his
legs trembled.
"None of your business! Get off these grounds at once; they're private!"
"None o' your sass, now, young man; I'm an officer of the law, an' a
detective to boot! We sha'n't stand any nonsense. The place is
surrounded and he can't escape! Where is he?"
"That's for you to find out if you're such a good detective! This is
David Bracken's place, and you can find him at his home on the hilltop
yonder!"
"Ask him what we've done, George," whispered Barnes.
"We ain't after Mr. Bracken, young feller, but you know what we _do_
want! He's in there--you're shielding him--we won't parley much longer!
Send him out!" said Anderson Crow.
"If you come a foot nearer you'll get shot into the middle of kingdom
come!" shouted Crosby defiantly.
The inmates gasped, for there was not a firearm on the place.
"Be careful!" warned the Reverend "Jimmy" nervously.
"Goin' to resist, eh? Well, we'll get him; don't you worry; an' that
ornery female o' hisn', too!"
"Did you hear that?" exclaimed Jack Barnes. "Let me get at the old rat."
He was making for the door when the two women obstructed the way. Both
were frantic with fear.
"But he called you a female!" roared he.
"Well, I _am_!" she wailed miserably.
"Who is it you want?" asked Crosby from the window.
"That's all right," roared Anderson Crow; "purduce him at once!"