Читать книгу Downey of the Mounted - James B. Hendryx - Страница 10

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WITH a heart pounding like a trip hammer and a mouth sticky with excitement, young Downey climbed the stairs that clung precariously to the outside wall of his father’s store. The Sergeant’s room was at the front, and, groping through the black hall, he tapped gently on the door. He tapped again.

“Who’s there?” came a sleepy voice, and Cammie’s heart gave a great bound of relief:

“It’s me—Cammie!” he half whispered the words. “Lemme in! Don’t make a light! They’re goin’ to rob the bank! I caught one! An’ all the horses! An’ the money from the Yorkton——” There was a sound of bare feet on the floor, a click of a key and the door was thrown open:

“What the divil ye talkin’ about, at all? Banks an’ horses!” The big Sergeant stood in his night shirt, an indistinct blur of white, as his hand reached the boy’s shoulder.

“Hurry! Get your clothes on! They’re under the depot platform—an’ one wired to the corral!” Breathlessly, Cammie continued in fragmentary and incoherent sentences to detail the night’s happenings, and, when he had finished, the Sergeant was dressed and leading the way through the dark hall. “Ut’s a darlint, ye are, Cammie, me lad!” he rumbled, as they made their way hurriedly down the stairs. Far in the distance a train whistled.

“Hurry, Sarg,” whispered the boy, excitedly, as he led the way, cross lots, to the Warring residence a few doors up the street.

Costello scratched at the screen of the sleeping porch.

“Don’t strike a light, sor,” he cautioned, “just pass me the keys to the bank. The Yorkton robbers are goin’ to pay ye a call after the train goes by, an’ Oi want to be on hand to give ’em a proper rayception.”

“The Yorkton robbers—here?”

“Sure, an’ they’re inunder the daypo platform this minute, but Oi want to git ’em rid-handed in the bank, an’ have two charges agin ’em instead av the wan.”

“Be with you in a minute!” whispered the banker and in an incredibly short time stood beside the two in the darkness.

“There’s two loaded shotguns and two revolvers in the bank, and I’ve got a first class dark lantern here, all lighted and ready—come on!”

“Maybe, sor, ye better lave the job to me,” suggested the Sergeant. “Ut’s a single man, Oi am—an’ ut’s all in me day’s work.”

“You’ll have to make that a flat order, Sergeant—an’ I’d rather you wouldn’t. Who’s that with you?” he added, striving to pierce the darkness as they hastened toward the bank.

“Sure, ut’s Cammie Downey, no less. An’ a grand lad he is, sor.”

“But—this is no place for a boy! Here, you, Cammie! Run along home, now. There’s liable to be trouble ahead.”

“Beggin’ yer pardon, sor—the bye’s earnt the right to choose his own place in this night’s doin’s, havin’ already caught wan av the outlaws an’ wired him up wid balin’ wire, an’ not only that, but he’s got all the Yorkton loot away from them, an’ their horses besides—on top av which he listened to ’em layin’ their plans fer robbin’ yer own bank.”

They had reached the rear of the bank building, and paused while Warring inserted his key in the lock. Noiselessly they entered, and by the light of the slide lantern the Sergeant glanced about.

“I think,” suggested Warring, “that if we all go into my private office and shut the door we can give these gentlemen a surprise party that they’ll remember for quite a while.”

“But—how in the divil——”

The banker interrupted with a laugh. “Come on in an’ I’ll show you a little trick I figured out for myself. There’s port holes in the office that command the vault an’ the cashier’s cage—but I don’t think we’ll have to use ’em.”

After a whispered explanation in the darkness of the little office, the Sergeant chuckled aloud to himself. “Sure, ut’ll be fun if ut works—an’ if ut don’t we’ll have ’em covered anyway.” His words were interrupted by the roar of the train as with shrieking whistle it tore through the village. “Ut won’t be long, now,” whispered the officer, “av’ they foller out their plans.” But, it did seem long to Cammie, waiting there in the darkness, between the big Sergeant and the banker. It seemed hours and hours—and then it came—the sound for which they had been waiting. The knob of the back door rattled lightly. There was a low, indefinable sound as of metal rasping on wood, then a sharp crack and a splintering as the door flew back upon its hinges. Followed a moment of silence, then stealthy footsteps, and a bright spot of light appeared, sweeping the walls and the door of the vault. A hand tried the office door and the three waited in tense silence as a low-voiced growl reached their ears: “Come here with the light. To hell with that—the vault’s what we want!”

Through the port holes the watchers could see the door of the vault as the light from the bull’s-eye lantern played upon it. “It’s a cinch,” whispered a voice. “Gimme the drill.” Both men were directly in front of the vault, one standing, fitting a drill, the other crouching, holding the dark lantern.

Cammie felt a quick movement of the banker’s arm. On the instant, the room was plunged into darkness, and there was a tremendous splash, followed by a medley of splashes, frightened gurgles and splutterings.

Sergeant Costello laughed aloud: “A foine scheme, sor!” he approved. “That trap door business is a new wan on me! How dape did ye say the cistern is?”

“Twelve feet—seven feet of water, an’ smooth cement walls above the water line——”

“Help! I’m—glub—glub—drownin’—glub——”

Cammie flashed on the light, and Warring, unlocking the door, took two life preservers from a shelf and tossed them into the open cistern. “Thim’ll kape ye afloat till ye soak a while an’ think things over,” called the Sergeant. “Ut’ll be dayloight in couple av hours. We hope ye rist well.”

“I can’t hang onto this thing fer two hours—I’ll drown!”

“Me, too—it’s murder!”

“Drown av ye loike—ut’s the same to us, an’ save a hangin’. But, av ye’d rather, ye can tie them contraptions onto ye an’ stay on top. Better drop yer guns to the bottom—they make more weight. We’ll be back afther awhile.”

The moon had set, and, procuring lanterns, the two men followed Cammie to the old Johnson ranch where it took a good half-hour to restore circulation to the benumbed hands and feet of the third outlaw. Whimpering and complaining, he was handcuffed, and the three proceeded to the Popum place, where the Yorkton plunder was secured from the brush where the boy had cached it.

“Oi’ll bet thim robbers has got all the fight soaked out av um be this toime,” grinned Costello, as they again approached the bank.

This time they entered by the front door, and, locking the prisoner in the office, Warring lighted the lamps. Costello stepped to the trap in front of the vault. “Will ye be good-byes av Oi pull yez out?” he asked.

“G-get us out! We’re f-freezin’!”

“Where’s yer guns?”

“On the bottom.”

“Oi’m takin’ no chances,” Costello replied. “Git holt av this rope. There’s a knot in the ind an’ Oi’ll haul ye to the top. When ye git there ye’ll grip the floor wid yer two hands an’ wiggle out. Oi’ll give ye a lift whin Oi see ye’re impty handed.” And so the outlaws were hauled out, one at a time, and a more dejected pair of human beings could not well be imagined as they stood, shivering and half-exhausted, with teeth chattering like castanets.

“Y-you think yer damn smart, Costello. But you’d never of caught me if——”

“O-ho!” said the Sergeant, for the first time scrutinizing the face of the leader, “av’ ut ain’t me old friend the Cowboy Kid! An’ a swayte pleasure ut is to meet ye agin! Oi moind the last toime Oi seen ye, ye give me the slip be ridin’, full tilt over a cutbank into Milk River. Ye’re a good horse thief, Kid, but bankin’ ain’t in yer line. Ye’ll not be the furst man to lose out fer over-playin’ his hand.”

“Is that so! Well you didn’t catch me—an’ neither did any of the Mounted! You think you’re smart as hell, but I can tell you you’re overlookin’ a big bet right now.”

“You mane that?” asked the Sergeant, pointing with a grin to the two canvas bags on the counter of the cashier’s gate.

The two outlaws stared, open mouthed. “It’s that damn Johnnie!” roared the cowboy. “He got cold feet an’——”

“You lie!” came a shrill voice from the office. “If you’d listened to me we’d be safe acrost the line by now! Yer a hog, Cowboy, tryin’ to steal all Canady!”

“How’d they git them bags, then? An’ how’d they git you? Who in hell ever heard tell of a rube banker figurin’ out a trap——?”

“Banker be damned!” came from behind the partition, “It’s that kid!”

“You don’t mean a little runt like that——”

“Sure, Kid,” soothed Costello with a broad grin. “Ut’s the kind we breed in Canada. Ut was only a bye’s job—goin’ afther the likes av ye, so Oi laid in me bed, an’ turned ut over to me assistant. An’, be the way, Kid, ye better look him over good. Oi’ve a hunch ye two will meet agin. Fer, be the time ye’re turned loose after these two jobs, the lad’ll likely be Inspector Downey, av the police.”

“To hell with the police!” growled the cowboy, savagely. “I can outguess the police—but there ain’t no one that can outguess the breaks of the game that throws a man up agin rube bankers with sense enough to build cisterns in front of their safes, an’ kids that prowls around nights when they ort to be to bed.”

“That reminds me, Cammie,” said the banker, “why ain’t you out campin’ with the boys? I saw ’em stop for you yesterday, an’ then drive on without you. What’s the trouble?”

“Mrs. Hunnish brought in some butter an’ eggs that had to go on the iced car,” explained the boy, “an’ I had to stay an’ get ’em ready. An’ then, when I started to walk out to the hills in the moonlight, I heard these men comin’ an’ I crawled under an old wagon box beside Johnson’s ford an’ heard what they said. Then they went away to rob your bank an’ I crawled out, an’ that one come back, an’ I was so scairt I didn’t know what to do——”

“An’ so ye done jest the right thing,” interrupted the Sergeant, “an’ done ut so good no one cud done ut better. Ut’s the kind av stuff we need in the Service. Jest you think ut over, like Oi told ye, an’ when ye’re old enough——”

“It’s the kind we need in bankin’, too,” interrupted Warring. “When you get old enough if you want a job just you come around to me.”

“I—I guess I’d rather be in the police,” said the boy. “I—don’t like stores, an’ banks, an’ towns. I want to get out an’ see things that Sarg an’ granddad tell about. I want to see places other people don’t see, an’ run rapids, an’ trail through snow, an’ learn all about bears, an’ deer, an’ Injuns, an’ things.” The boy paused and looked earnestly at the officer: “Oh, do you think I ever could get in the Service—really?”

Costello grinned: “Feelin’ like ye do, son, I don’t see how ye’re goin’ to kape out av ut. ’Tis either the Service or the H. B. C., an’ t’would be a pity to waste the likes av ye on the Company. Jest you plug along, doin’ the thing that’s put to you to do—like Hunnish’s butter an’ eggs—an’ the day ye’re twinty-two, jest file yer application wid the Commissioner at Regina, mentionin’, by way av reference, Sergeant Costello, av he’s still alive an’ kickin,’ an’ av he ain’t, tell thim to read over Costello’s rayport av the capture av the Yorkton outlaws.”

“An’, if they want any more references, just you tell ’em to ask me!” added the banker. “But, look here, it’s breakin’ daylight. Cammie, you better trot along home an’ get you some sleep. I guess the Sergeant can handle the prisoners. I’m goin’ home an’ have Mrs. Warring send him over a good hot breakfast. Come on, sonnie, I’m goin’ your way.”

The boy shook his head: “No, I guess I’ll start for the Hills. I ain’t very tired, an’ I don’t want to miss any of the campin’.”

“You mean walk? On an empty stummick—an’ you up all night!”

“I ain’t very hungry or tired,” insisted the boy, “an’ it’s my vacation. It’s the first one I ever had, an’ pa promised.”

“You’re just right he promised!” exclaimed the banker. “An’ by golly, you’ll get your vacation! But, you ain’t goin’ to walk out there—not by a long shot! Tell you what we’ll do—you come along with me, an’ we’ll get an early breakfast down to my house, an’ then I’ll hitch up to that light runabout an’ drive you out there. That new horse of mine’ll make it in two hours. Glad of an excuse to take a drive, mornin’ like this. We’ll get out there before the kids are up, an’ roust ’em out an’ make ’em give us another breakfast.”

On Warring’s return he dropped into the store where the elder Downey was prying the head from a keg of nails: “Heard all about the doin’s last night, I suppose!” he greeted.

“Doings?” repeated Downey, pausing in his work to stare at Warring over the tops of his steel rimmed spectacles. “You mean Sergeant Costello’s catching the Yorkton Robbers?”

“Sure, that’s what I mean! Didn’t you hear the part Cammie played? Why, if he hadn’t overheard their plans at the old Johnson ranch, they’d have blowed my vault same as they did Yorkton. An’ not only that, but he captured one of ’em single handed!”

“Aye, I heard tell that Cameron was mixed up in it, some way or other. I’ve not seen the boy. When I do, I’ll have som’at to say to him.” The thin lips hardened to a straight line. “It’s sore grievous, banker, that a son of mine should be prowlin’ about all night when he should be in bed, an’ spending his days in idleness when there’s work to be done.”

Banker Warring lost his temper: “Look here, Angus Downey, you’re a fool! Why, if my kid had done half as good a job as Cammie done last night I’d be so doggone proud of him I’d bust all the buttons off my vest! An’ he could camp all the rest of the summer if he wanted to! I tell you, Downey, you’re handlin’ that boy wrong. You’ll never make a storekeeper out of him. The wild country’s in his blood, an’ you can’t change it. I’ve had my eye on him, an’ I’m predictin’ he’s goin’ to make a good man—high grade man, I’d call it—as good a man as your own father is. An’ if you don’t know why he was out to the Johnson ranch last night I can tell you. It was because you promised him he could go campin’ yesterday with the boys, an’ then went back on yer word—that’s why! An’ after workin’ like a dog all day he still had the nerve to tackle the trip afoot, at night. But you bet your life, after what he done, I wasn’t goin’ to see him foot it eighteen, twenty miles. I hitched up an’ took him out there myself, this mornin’. I suppose I’ve gone an’ offended you for good an’ all—but anyway I’ve spoke my mind out.”

The storekeeper shook his head, slowly: “No, banker, you haven’t offended me. Every man to his own way of thinking. You’ve had your say out, and I’ve listened, but it hasn’t changed my way of thinking, not one jot nor tittle. Once my mind’s made up it’s made up for good and all, and there isn’t anything, nor anyone that can change it.”

Warring left the store abruptly, and proceeded up the street, where he joined the throng of curious citizens that surrounded Sergeant Costello, who was escorting his trio of prisoners to the train.