CHAPTER XII.
THE PURSUIT.
Chip and Sam were not the only Pinkerton men in Kansas City at this time engaged on the Adams Express robbery case, for from the time Cook awoke from the drunken stupor in which Cummings and Moriarity found him at the cooper-shop on the night when Chip was captured he had been shadowed constantly by Barney, who with Chip had found the letter heads in Fotheringham's trunk.
Day and night had Barney followed him, and he was but a short distance behind when Cummings took Cook on the verge of the delirium tremens to his room.
When Cook came back with the horses and with Cummings rode away, Barney hastened to Chip, who, fully recovered from the terrible blow on the head, had again assumed his duties, and reported the fact to him.
Sam, who was on the lookout for Moriarity, was notified at once, and the three detectives, laying the matter before the chief of police, were furnished with seven mounted men armed to the teeth, and all of them old Texas rangers.
This formidable troop had left the city scarcely an hour after the robbers had started. The direction they took and the nature of the country pointed to Swanson's ranche as the point for which the outlaws were making.
All night long the posse rode, and had they not taken a wrong trail, would have caught up to the robbers at their first camp.
Retracing their path, a short halt only was made, saddle girths were tightened, the rifles closely inspected, and Chip, giving the cry of "Forward," led the company on the hot scent.
Like a good general, Chip spread his men to the right and left of the trail, so that in moving forward a wide swath of country was swept.
The first camp which the outlaws had made was discovered by the scout on the left flank. Raising the Texan yell, the rank closed in and gathered around the spot.
One of the men, an old Indian hunter, burnt by the sun to living bronze, and scarred by the many hand-to-hand conflicts he had had with the red savages, leaped from his horse, his keen eyes fastened to the ground, read the signs which the outlaws had left as if they were printed words.
Pointing to the fire and the remnants of the burnt meat and bones near it, he said:
"They ain't more'n three hours ahead of us, and there's more than the two. Three fellars ate their grub here this morning."
"How do you make that out?" said Chip.
"Well, Cap'n, I've fit Ingins and herded cattle more'n twenty year, off an' on, and if there ain't been three men here not over three hour ago, I lose my reckonin'. See here, in this soft place where the sun has melted the ground a bit, is hoof-marks, and they belong to three different horses."
"Perhaps they stole a horse?"
"Mebbe so, and mebben't so. I reckon it mebben't so. Cause why? The fellar as walked over this patch wore boots and spurs, long rowels on 'em, too. See where they cut the mud. Here is another one, a derned sight smaller foot, and here is one that had a sharp heel. No, Cap'n, they picked up a man somewhar along the road."
To this the others who had come out with the detectives gave their unqualified assent, and Chip cried:
"Three hours ahead is a good lead on us, boys. We must climb along."
The command was again given, and, rendered more eager and enthusiastic by the knowledge that only thirty miles was between them and their game, the men moved forward with a cheer.
Another short halt was made for supper and the trail was again covered just as the robbers had about commenced to sleep. A sharp lookout was maintained and the bright light of the full moon turned night into day and made the task so much the easier.
As they rode around the edge of the timber in which Cummings and his companions were secreted they had no suspicion that they had gained so rapidly on the flying renegades, so that the sudden appearance of the men for whom they were searching somewhat surprised them. Giving their peculiar yell they pressed forward with a great burst of speed, not even checking the gait when the ball which Moriarity sent whistled over them.
Instantly several rifles were leveled at the flying robbers, and had not Chip commanded them not to shoot it would have fared ill with Jim Cummings and his companions.
With the speed of the wind the horses flew down the trail, the rapid hoof beats rang out on the still night and sent the slinking coyotes howling to their lairs. Just peering above the horizon could be seen the dark outlines of Goody's Bluff, fifteen miles away, and if Cummings could but reach its shadow he was safe, even from the posse which was pursuing him, for he would then be in the Indian Territory. Looking back at his pursuers, who in a solid group were following him so closely that he could almost distinguish their features, so bright was the night, he saw that their horses were not driven at the full height of their speed, but were rather being held back. Alarmed at this he communicated his fears to his companions, who, one on each side, were bending forward in the saddle, urging and caressing their horses to get all there was out of them, and right gamely did the stanch animals respond to the touch of the spur or pat of the hand, as they beat out mile after mile behind them, the hoof-beats echoed by the flying party behind. With starting eye-balls eagerly fixed on the dim outlines of the bluff, the hunted men watched it grow larger and more distinct, and hope began to revive in their breasts when a sharp "ping" of a rifle, followed by the whistle of the ball passing over their heads broke the silence of the wordless chase.
As with one impulse, each man threw himself flat on his horse's neck, but did not for an instant relax speed or spur. Another shot followed, and Chip's voice, ringing and clear, shouted:
"If you don't halt, we'll shoot your horses."
"Shoot and be damned," said Jim Cummings, almost exultingly, as he drew his revolver from his belt. "Two can play at that game," and drawing a hasty bead on Chip, he pulled the trigger.
Chip's horse, giving a convulsive leap to one side, staggered a little, and fell behind, but was soon in the lead again, apparently unhurt.
"Boys," shouted Cummings, "d'ye see that dry creek bed. On the other side we're safe," The pursuing posse, hearing these words, and knowing their full import, gave spurs to their horses, and the distance between the two parties closed up so rapidly that the three outlaws could hear the heavy breathing of the following horses.
Their own animals began to show signs of distress, and the dry creek bed was still a long, long distance off.
Nearer and nearer crept Chip and his men, the thirteen men, pursuers and pursued, was almost in one party. Chip, who lead, and Cummings, who rode behind his comrades, were not a horse's length apart.
Slowly the gallant beast Chip bestrode pushed forward, gaining little by little until his nose almost reached the flank of Jim's steed.
"Jim Cummings, do you surrender?" and the sharp click of a revolver was heard.
With a malignant scowl Cummings half turned in his saddle, and saying:
"No, damn me, no; not while I live," placed his revolver at the head of
Chip's mount and sent the ball crashing to its brain.
Down in its tracks shot the noble steed, the dark, rich blood jetting from the ghastly hole, and deluging Chip with its crimson flood.
Chip, with the address of an experienced horseman, had lighted upon his feet, his revolver still clutched in his hand.
The sudden fall of the leading horse had caused the remainder of the party to haul up short to avoid running horse and rider down. This left the road clear before him, and Chip, dropping on his knee took a long careful sight at Cummings and fired.
A sudden swerve of Jim's horse saved him, but uttering a cry of pain, Cook's steed, struck in a vital point, stopped short, and trembling in every limb slowly sank to the ground. Cook, taken so unexpectedly, had shot over his horse's head, and now lay, unconscious, in the center of the trail, his two companions, driving the spurs deeper into the flanks of their almost exhausted animals, dashed down the banks of the dividing line and stood safe on Indian Territory.
The unconscious Cook was at once surrounded by the detectives and posse, and a generous dose of brandy poured down his throat brought him to his senses.
Chagrined beyond measure at the escape of his man, just when he was about to put his hand on him, and at the loss of his horse, Chip was in no humor to allow a technical boundary line to keep him from capturing his men, who, riding around the edge of an elevation on the prairie were now lost to sight.
"Brodey," he said, turning to the ranger who had been the guide of the expedition from the time it started from Kansas City, "how far is it to Swanson's ranche?"
"A matter of twenty-five miles, as the crow flies."
"How far by the trail?"
"Well, Cap'n," responded Brodey, reflectively, as he threw his knee over the pommel of his saddle, "lemme see. The trail goes by that there belt of timber, then jines the stage-road to Allewe, an' follows that a piece, then it shunts off to the west straight for the bluff thar, purty nearly a bee-line. Thirty mile, sure—mebbe less."
"Is that the Indian Territory 'tother side of the divide?"
"Jesso—Cherokee Nation."
"What sort of a man is this Swanson?"
"Half-buffalo, half-painter, an' other half crocodile. He's wuss than a half-breed Apache, an would as soon shoot a man as to drink, an' Swanson's a right powerful punisher of the whisky-jug."
"Yes! yes! I know all that, but is he cunning, shrewd, sharp, you know?"
"Got eyes like an Injun, ears like a coyote an' a nose sharp as a gopher snake."
"He must be a tough combination, but I'll do it, all the same."
"Do what, Chip?" asked Sam.
"Go down to Swanson's and bring in my man."
"Bars and buffler skins," cried Brodey. "You don't mean to say that you will do such a blame fool thing as that. Sho!"
"Not alone, Chip," said Sam. "I go with you."
"See hyar, young fellers," expostulated Brodey. "Do ye know what your doin'! Got any idee ye'll come back alive! I've been in some tough places before now, but shoot my worthless carcass if I want to go to Swanson's. He's killed a man, torn out his heart and eaten it raw, fer a fact."
"Pshaw, who would believe such a yarn as that, man."
"Swar to gosh it's true," continued Brodey. "I don't believe thar's a man in the States what's got as much devil to thar square inch as this man Swanson. Better not go, Cap'n. I'd hate tremendous to have you killed."
Chip laughed lightly, as he stroked the neck of the Ranger's horse, and said:
"Brodey, I've been a detective for five years, and in those five years I've looked almost sure death in the face more than a score of times. I have seen the knife raised which was to be buried in my heart the next second. I have felt the revolver spit its flames plump in my face. I have been tied hand and feet and laid across the rail, with a lightning express train not over a thousand feet off, coming down like the wind, and I am a live man to-day. The man isn't born yet that can kill me."
Chip said all this in a modest tone and no signs of braggadocio, for it was all true, and his listeners knew he was telling facts by his bearing and manner.
"Yes," broke in Sam, "and I was with you on several of these occasions, and what's more, I shall be with you on this one you are planning."
"I want you should be—but enough of this talk. We can do nothing more now. Our men have given us the slip. Dismount, boys, and give the nags a breathing spell."
Cook, by this time, had regained his senses, and was sitting up in the middle of the trail rubbing his shoulder and wearing a most woebegone and dazed look upon his expressive countenance. Observing this, Chip walked toward him, and imitating a drunken stagger, sang:
"Drink, puppies, drink; let every puppy drink, That's old enough to stand and to swallow."
As the first strains fell on his ears, Cook started, and regarding Chip with questioning eyes, inquired:
"Who are you fellows anyway; can't you let peaceable travelers alone without shooting their horses?"
"Oh! you were peaceable travelers, were you? Well, now, that's strange, we took you to be some horse thieves that have been skurrying around these parts lately."
"Do you think I look like a horse-thief?" indignantly.
"Is that your own horse?"
"Not exactly. I hired—"
"Ah! yes, you hired it—they all say that—you hired it some time ago and have forgotten to pay the bill—"
"Well, I didn't either, I hired it for a week, and—"
"Really, Mr. Cook, you were going to make quite a visit—"
"My name ain't Cook."
"No? Let us call you Mr. Cook just for the sake of the argument. It's a good name, is Cook. I used to know a fellow named Cook once. He had a cooper-shop on the east bottoms, Kansas City. I went over to see him a week or so ago, and we had a high old time I can assure you. Cook was a very amusing gentleman. He could sing like Brignoli. What was that song he could sing so nicely? Oh! yes, I have it."
"For we'll pass the bottle 'round When we've—"
"The tramp!" ejaculated Cook looking at Chip with amazement.
"The same, at your service, Mr. Cook, for that is your name, isn't it?"
"I'm caught," confessed the puzzled Cook. "What are you making game of me for? What do you want me for?"
"Nothing, nothing. We were afraid you might prolong your anticipated visit to such a length that we grew homesick for you, so I got some of the boys together, a sort of a picnic, you know, to ask you not to stay too long," bantered Chip. "We really can't take 'no' for an answer, Mr. Cook, really you must consider our feelings and return with us."
"I guess I can't help myself," said Cook grimly.
"It does look a little that way, don't it?"
Cook shook his head as he arose to his feet, and stooping over his dead horse unloosed the girth and drew off the saddle, nor did he make any objection when Chip secured his revolver and ammunition belt. Escape was entirely cut off from him and he accepted his capture in a resigned spirit, because he could not help himself.
"Brodey, how far is the railroad from here?"
"About fifteen miles over thar," pointing toward the east, "Blue Jacket lies thar, and is on the Missouri, Kansas and Texas."
"We'll make for it. You take the prisoner behind you and I will mount with Sam."
The cavalcade were soon in motion, leaving the dead horses to be devoured by the buzzards and coyotes which were already beginning to gather around.
Arriving at Blue Jacket, the party left Chip and his prisoner, and turning to the north cantered off for Kansas City.