Читать книгу The Bradys Out West; or Winning A Hard Case - Francis Worcester Doughty - Страница 4

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The scene of our story now will change.

From New York to the mountain passes and canyons of the Great West is a great transition.

But thither we must follow the two Bradys.

One warm evening a six-horse coach toiled over the high divide beyond which was the little town of Red Cliff.

The coach had six passengers besides the driver.

The latter was alternately coaxing and swearing at his horses as they struggled up the steep road.

The six passengers consisted of five men and a woman.

The woman was deeply veiled and sat on the rear seat of the coach.

All were on the outside of the coach, for it was hot and stuffy inside.

Two of the men were dressed in Quaker gray, with broad-brimmed hats and spectacles.

Of the other three, one was a miner with his kit, the second was a young student, and the third a commercial traveler.

The young student was much inclined to be talkative and at odd intervals shot inquiring glances at the woman with the veil.

“Phew!” he exclaimed for the hundredth time. “This is hot enough to bake a salamander!”

“Humph!” said the miner. “If you think this is hot you ought to travel in Mexico a while.”

“Yerp!” said the driver. “Chuck! G’long there! Yew bet Mexico is a warm kentry!”

“That’s all right,” declared the commercial traveler; “but I know a hotter place.”

“Whar?” asked the miner.

“Cuba in the month of August.”

“You’re right!” cried the student eagerly. “I remember being held up in Cuba one hot summer day by the insurgents. I was studying the flora of the country with Professor Wiseman of our university.”

“Sho!” exclaimed the commercial traveler. “They didn’t hang you, then?”

“You can see for yourself,” replied the student. “But they might as well, for they nearly scared us to death.”

“Speaking of being held up,” said the miner carelessly, “we are likely to be held up before we get to Red Cliff.”

“Eh?” exclaimed the student.

“Jupiter!” gasped the commercial traveler. The driver chuckled, but said nothing.

The two Quakers were immovable, though one was seen to cross his hands as if in prayer.

“What do you mean?” asked the student. “Are you joking?”

The miner lit his pipe.

“You may find out,” he said. “I hope you brought no valuables with you. If you have, then Captain Vail will have ’em in no time.”

The student instinctively gripped his bag; the commercial traveler drew his sample case nearer.

But the Quakers never moved.

The woman bent forward a little, as if interested.

The woman swept a cursory glance over her shoulder at the Quakers, and said:

“I hope you gentlemen will take no alarm. It is hardly likely Vail will put men of your cloth to trouble.”

“Yea, verily,” said the older of the Quakers, “we are in the hands of the Lord.”

Silence reigned for a time.

The coach had topped the divide.

Below was a steep descent, with dark groves of mountain cedars on either hand.

The driver gave his horses free rein now, and they went fleeting down the trail like frightened sheep.

An angle in the mountain wall was turned.

Suddenly the driver set back on the dashboard with all his weight on the lines.

His face was ashen pale.

His voice rattled huskily as he shouted:

“Whoa! Whoa, thar!”

But the frightened horses at first did not seem to heed the startled voice of command.

A gasping cry of horror escaped the lips of every person on the coach.

There was reason for this.

Squarely across the mountain trail were drawn a body of mounted, masked and armed men.

Seated on their horses, their rifles were aimed at the coach.

The driver knew well what all this meant.

He must stop.

If he did not, and at once, the mounted men would themselves stop the coach by shooting the horses.

The result would be most unpleasant, for besides being robbed they would have to walk all the rest of the way to Red Cliff.

So the driver did his best to hold his horses in.

A clarion voice rang up the gorge:

“Stop, or we fire!”

“All right!” yelled the driver. “I’m trying to.”

Then, by throwing the lead-horses in against the mountain wall and pulling the pole horses together, the swing-horses came up with a slide and a jerk, the brake was set and the coach came up standing, though it slewed half way around on the smooth rock.

A harsh, mocking laugh rang out:

“Well done, Jeff Haines. You saved your horses and your neck that time. Now throw out those mail bags.”

This request was complied with.

The mail bags were rifled while two polite road agents came along and went through the pockets of the travelers.

When they had robbed the miner, the commercial traveler and the student, the bandits glanced at the Quakers.

They exchanged glances.

Then they shrugged their shoulders and said:

“There’s no meat on a crow, nor even any money on a parson. Keep what you’ve got, gentlemen.”

“Verily thou sayest well,” retorted one of the Quakers. “It is safer to have treasures in heaven, for there thieves cannot break in and steal.”

The outlaws returned to their leader, and a conference was held.

All this while the veiled lady had made no sign or movement.

Suddenly the leader of the bandits rode up and flashed a keen glance at her through the eye-holes of his mask.

“Ah, madam!” he said with a smile. “It is unusual to see one of your sex traveling alone in this part of the world.”

“I have no fear,” replied the veiled woman in a low tone.

“That is fortunate for you. Perhaps you have friends who would pay a small ransom for you?”

“You are quite mistaken.”

The bandit laughed carelessly.

“We shall see,” he said. “Here, men, bring her down from there and take her along. I am sorry, madam, but you are a valuable commodity.”

The woman shuddered and seemed to shrink back.

One of the Quakers leaned forward.

“Thou wilt not do so wrong a deed,” he protested.

“Keep your own counsel, old gray-frock!” retorted the bandit.

Two of the bandits assisted the woman down from the coach.

She was very calm and made no comment. She allowed them to place her on a horse without a word.

Then the bandit chief with his men waved an adieu to the coach and dashed out of sight down the trail.

The commercial traveler was the first to regain composure.

“Well, I’m out two hundred,” he said. “What did they strike you for, book-worm?”

“One hundred and forty,” said the student. “But they overlooked another hundred in my boot leg.”

The driver, to whom all this was no new experience, had recovered his spirits.

He pulled his leaders out, cracked the whip over the rumps of the swing horses, and rode away down the trail.

But while the party were discussing the robbery the Quakers had been conferring with each other.

One of them now reached forward and touched the driver on the arm.

“Wilt thou stop thy horses?” he asked.

“What fer?” blurted the driver.

“We are men of the Lord and follow his teachings, but we know that he will despise us if we go not back—yea, verily—and rescue that helpless woman.”

The driver pulled up his horses.

This declaration created a sensation.

The miner looked sheepish and the commercial traveler and the student were crestfallen.

“What are the chances for a rescue?” asked the student.

“I don’t see what a handful of men like us could do,” said the traveler.

“Wall, ye wouldn’t amount to a flea-bite,” declared the driver. “Captain Vail ain’t the man to be juggled by a slim crowd like us.”

But the Quakers had slid down from the coach.

They started back up the trail.

“Go thy way,” they said, contemptuously. “We are armed with the vengeance of the Lord. He will repay.”

For a moment those on the coach looked irresolute.

But the driver settled it.

He laughed harshly, and cackled to his horses.

The next moment the stage was out of sight around a bend.

The Quakers were left on the mountain trail.

The elder lifted his broad-brimmed hat and said:

“Well, Harry, we’re in for it.”

“Yes; you’re right. Here we are, right in the howling wilderness of the Wild West. I’m sure we are on the right lead. Didn’t the veiled lady put up a good bluff?”

“Well, I should say! Of course nobody but us knew that she was Beatrice Vail.”

“Just so.”

“Now our game is clear.”

“Yes; we must track the road agents until we get trace of Helen May.”

The two Quakers, as the reader has doubtless guessed, were far from being members of that sober sect.

They were no other than the two Bradys, detectives, in very clever disguise.

Certainly they had played their cards well, having come all the way over the stage route in company of Beatrice Vail, who never suspected their identity.

The Bradys were dropped right in the heart of the region where Vail carried on his nefarious trade.

This was just what they wanted, and they were ready for business.

Thrilling incidents were before them, which we will leave to another chapter to tell.