CHAPTER XXIII.—THE POLICEMAN MAKES A MISTAKE.
“The boy was with us, in the Rambler, on a platform car on a Canadian Pacific train, going towards Donald, when the robbery took place,” Clay explained, directly, trying hard to keep his temper in the face of the impudence and greed shown by the surgeon.
“You’ll have to prove that!” said the surgeon. “Why are you boys hiding in that motor boat, anyway? Have you been carrying supplies to the men who did the actual work in the robbery? And there was some one shot on a train leaving the pass, on the night of the robbery. Was it a bullet that broke the lad’s leg? You’d better be frank with me.”
“You ought to know whether the injury was caused by a bullet or not,” replied Clay, beginning the story of the trip down the Columbia and ending with the finding of the boy in the shelter he had hastily constructed.
During the recital, however, he said not a word about the man who had so often presented himself to their notice.
“That’s all very well,” the surgeon said, “but it only shows that the boy is mixed up in some secret matter, even if you boys are not in the game with him. Here comes DeYoung, the policeman, now, and I’ll turn the matter over to him, but I want you for a witness to prove that I found the boy and pointed him out to the officer. I want that reward.” “I thought so!” Clay replied, scornfully. “That’s what you are working for! Well, you won’t get it. I’ll attend to that!”
DeYoung, the policeman, now came up and held a short conversation with the surgeon. Clay was not permitted to hear what was being said, but at the termination of the conference the policeman, a member of the mounted force, approached him with a scowl on his face.
“So you’ve been harboring a train robber, have you?” he demanded. “I think I’ll take you all in and hold you for identification. I’ll go to the boat now and get the boy. Come along, doctor, and assist.”
“But the boy mustn’t be moved! cried Clay, in alarm.
“Oh, mustn’t he?” snarled the officer. “We’ll see about that!”
“It will be all right to move him,” the surgeon said.
“Of course! And I’ll see that the boys are kept away from him, too.”
“It may be just as well to put them in separate cells,” suggested the surgeon. “One of them may confess, after going hungry a short time.”
Clay was angry enough to fight, but he knew that such a course would be worse than useless. These men had the power to do as they pleased until higher officers were reached.
It will be understood, however, that he felt pretty ugly at the idea of being parted from the injured boy. That would be a great deal worse than having the river trip interrupted and being locked up in a Canadian prison, he thought.
He argued with the policeman and the surgeon to no purpose. Their eyes were fixed on the reward. The thought, the prospect, of receiving so great a sum completely blinded their eyes to all sense of justice and humanity. Clay resolved, then, that they should both suffer for their brutality if they removed the boy and locked them all up.
He thought of telling the policeman of the men who had been hiding in the mountains. To his mind these were the robbers. He believed that the officer might gain the $10,000 reward by following his instructions, and that he, himself, might secure the $5,000 reward by pointing out the whereabouts of the men.
But he instantly banished the thought of helping the brutal officer get a cent of the money. He would rather take the chance of letting the men get away and losing his own share of the money offered for their arrest and conviction.
Things looked pretty dark for the boys just then. If arrested and locked up, the Rambler would be at the mercy of the lawless men who frequented the river there. Without doubt, all the stores would be stolen. Even the boat itself might be taken. It looked like the end of their long-planned journey down the Columbia river.
As the boy walked briskly toward the boat, accompanied by the two men, he saw a man in uniform beckoning to the officer, who pretended not to see him. However, he said to the surgeon, in a tone of great vexation which Clay did not fail to note: “There’s Sergeant Wilcox! If he gets his eyes on the boy before I do, he will claim the reward. He is too soft to carry this thing through, anyway. He’ll let the boys talk him out of the money. We’d better make haste to the boat. If Wilcox wasn’t my superior officer, I’d take a crack at his head with a billy. He’s always butting in!”
Clay had heard enough to convince him that Sergeant Wilcox was the man he wanted to talk with! Should he prove considerate and reasonable, he should receive the information which would be worth $10,000 to him—the information which a little decency on the part of DeYoung might have won for him!
When the policeman and the surgeon started toward the boat at a pace calculated to get them there before Sergeant Wilcox could overtake them, Clay hung back and DeYoung seized him by the arm to hurry him along. The boy drew away and ran toward the Sergeant, who advanced to meet him.
“What’s the matter here?” the Sergeant asked, not unkindly.
“This officer has arrested me, and threatens to arrest my chums,” Clay explained, “and I want you to hear my story.”
“Certainly, my boy,” replied the Sergeant “You don’t look like a very hardened criminal,” he added, as DeYoung approached with a pair of handcuffs dangling in his hands, “so I guess we won’t have you ironed.”
“This boy and his chums,” stormed DeYoung, “are connected with the train robbers, and I have arrested them all as such. I’m now going to the boat you see down there to take them all to jail.”
“One of the boys has a broken leg,” pleaded Clay, “and ought not to be moved. And everything we have will be stolen if we are taken away from our boat and locked up.”
“It won’t injure the boy to be moved.” the surgeon cut in, “and I’ll see that their property is not molested. We, DeYoung and I, think we have that reward cinched!”
“Oh, you do!” cried Clay, with flashing eyes. “You’d ruin us boys in the hope of getting it, too!”
“The injured lad shall not be moved, nor shall he lock you up until we have plenty of proof,” said the Sergeant.
“You’re a gentleman!” Clay burst out, tears of gratitude showing in his eyes “You’re a gentleman, and I’m going to tell you where to find the robbers! I should have told this other officer if he had acted half-way decent. I think I know where the men you want are, at least, and you can get them in a short time, too.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” almost shrieked DeYoung. “You ought to have told me. I was the first officer you met. It was your duty to have told the first officer you met!”
“Because you’re a brute,” answered Clay, secure in the protection of the Sergeant. “If you’ll send him away, Sergeant,” the boy added, “I’ll take you to the boat and tell you the whole story. But perhaps you’d better get your men together, all ready to go after the robbers.”
“It is a plant!” cried DeYoung. “He wants to send us away so the robbers can raid the town. Don’t you believe a word he says!”
“Go back to the station, DeYoung,” the Sergeant ordered. “When I want any advice from you I’ll ask for it. And we can get along without your company, too, doctor,” he added.
“But we claim the reward!” said the surgeon, angrily. “You can’t come here with your high and mighty ways and insult me. I’m not under your authority! We claim the reward!”
“Get out!” replied the Sergeant. “Come, young man, we’ll go to this boat you are all talking about, and you can tell me the story or not, just as you please. I’m working to do my duty, not expressly to win rewards. DeYoung sees nothing but the reward, though he is a fairly efficient policeman. I’ll have to transfer him into the woods farther!” On the way to the boat Clay told the whole story, omitting nothing. He even told of their suspicions of Gran and his strange disappearance, and of the three men seen on the mountain, and where they might be found, provided they had not moved on, which the boy considered doubtful.
“I understand the boy’s part in the game,” the officer said, “and think you have the robbers located, all right. And now about this other man—the fellow with the long arms. I think I have a line on him,” with a queer smile. “I’ll show you some dispatches presently which concern him.”
Clay opened his eyes in amazement.
“Is he one of the robbers?” he asked.
The Sergeant laughed heartily.
“I think I have a surprise for you,” he said. “You just wait a few hours. You don’t know that I came here to meet this boat, do you?”
“Why, how did you know? What is the mystery? We’ve been clouded in mystery ever since we left the mountain pass.”
“You’ll soon be out of it,” replied the Sergeant. “You’ll have a clear field to start another puzzle column in,” he laughed.
“No more puzzle columns for me!” declared Clay. “But how did you know about the boat coming here?”
“Why,” laughed the officer, “I even know the names of your chums! Second sight, eh! I know where you started from, and all about it. I’ve been waiting for you two days!”
“I give it up!” said Clay, and not another word would he say until the boat was reached and a general consultation was held. Gran smiled when the Sergeant was introduced to him and said:
“We have been waiting a long time for you, Sergeant Wilcox!”
“Now, what do you think of that?” asked Case. “I don’t think any more!” laughed Clay. “I’m beyond being astonished at anything.”
“Is Gran under arrest?” asked Alex.
The Sergeant shook his head and held up a hand for silence.
“It is only a train from the east,” Clay volunteered.
“Is that our train?” asked Gran, looking up into the Sergeant’s face with a confiding smile. “Is that OUR train?”
“I hope so,” replied the officer. “And now, Mr. Clay,” he added, “you come with me to the station, and you may learn of something to your advantage, as the newspaper advertisements say. The others will remain here for the present.”
“We’re too paralyzed to make a movement,” suggested Alex.
Captain Joe arose to follow Clay and Teddy shambled up to the officer and tried to climb up the official stripe on the seam of his trousers. The Sergeant laughed and patted the bear on the head.
“You’re a happy family!” he said. “Come on, Clay.”
Gran waved a thin hand at the two departing ones and turned to Alex.
“You’re going to hear the end of the story directly,” he said. “I’m not going to tell it, though.”
“Who is?” demanded Case. “We’ve been trying to tell it to each other ever since you came on the Rambler that night at the pass, and have made up our minds that we don’t know it!”
“Of course not,” Gran said, and closed his eyes, leaving Alex and Case half crazy with curiosity!
When the train drew up, the first man to leave the parlor coach made a rush for the Sergeant and shook him warmly by the hand. This done he looked Clay over with a curious smile on a face recently shaved clean.
The man was at least six foot three, and had very long arms. Also a slight limp! Clay sat down on a trunk and waited.