Chapter VI.
THE BATTLE OF WITS.
Declining the invitations to tarry a while of the men who had loaned them their ponies, the outlaws were returning to their tents when they heard the whistle of an engine.
"I'll bet that's the evening train," declared Frank. "Let's go down to the station. Cole and Texas ought to be showing up soon and if they should, it might mix things up badly if they started to ask questions in order to find us."
"Good idea," assented his brother and accordingly the trio turned their footsteps toward the station.
The train had brought its usual influx of people come to try the medicinal waters of the Springs and they were thronging into the town, some in carriages, others on foot, as the desperadoes turned into the street that led to the depot.
Walking slowly, they scanned the faces of the new arrivals.
At last the rush was over and the forms of only a few belated stragglers were visible.
"Guess the boys didn't come," observed Clell.
"It doesn't seem—hello, there they are," murmured Jesse hurriedly as he espied the broad shoulders and familiar, swinging gait of his pals.
The recognition had been mutual and quickening their steps, Cole and Texas Jack were soon grasping the hands of their leader.
Without returning their greetings the famous outlaw whispered:
"Cole, your name for the present will be Ted Bemis; Jack, yours will be Ned Haskell." And he told them the aliases with which he had endowed Frank and Clell and himself, adding, "we're miners from Colorado on the way to New York to raise the wind to buy more mines."
These important instructions delivered, the bandit-chieftain, with Cole at his side, led the way back to their tent, avoiding the square.
During the walk, the new arrivals were briefly made aware of the incidents of the day, especially of the exclamation as Jesse's beard was started from its place that caused them so much anxiety.
"At a rough guess, I should say it was young what's-his-name," vouchsafed Cole.
"Young Rozier, you mean," interposed Clell. "That's my idea, too."
"Time will tell," said the bandit-chieftain, irritably, for the annoying lack of positive assurance was getting on his nerves. "But there's one thing sure and that is the sooner we drop the subject the better. Some one may overhear us."
So dark was it as they reached the camp-ground that they easily gained their tent by skirting the park without being seen.
Cole and Texas had taken their supper on the train so there was no need of rekindling a fire and the reunited bandits stretched out on blankets like the spokes of a wheel, their heads forming the hub that they might be near enough together to converse in low tones.
When the shooting up of Chouteau and their uneventful journey from there to the Springs had been narrated, the men fell to discussing their next move.
That the health resort was none too safe a place for them, all were agreed but that was the only point on which they did agree.
Frank was for striking to the north, into regions unknown to them and where, in consequence, there would be less chance of their being recognized.
To the others, save the world-famous desperado, the suggestion seemed a good one. But Jesse pointed out that their escapes from capture, narrow as many of them had been, were due to the fact that their knowledge of the country in which they had operated was so intimate that they had been able to give their pursuers the slip, an advantage they would forfeit should they strike into a section with whose highways and byways they were unfamiliar.
"Well, what do you propose instead?" demanded his brother, realizing from long association with him, that his opposition to the suggestion was largely because he had already made his plans.
"I'm not ready to say, just yet. It depends upon what to-morrow brings forth," returned Jesse. "There's a rich bank in Ste. Genevieve. This man, Rozier, and his dandified son stick in my crop and I intend to be quits with him before I do anything else."
"I should think you were already," grinned Frank. "You've saved his daughter, called him down for offering you money and refused the girl's request to let her sweetheart off from the tar and feathering.
"I don't know what more you want.
"If you take my advice, you'll let well enough alone and duck out of here while we have the chance. I've got a hunch that if we stay here we're going to get into trouble!"
With a superstitious respect for his brother's intuitions, the great outlaw puffed at his pipe in silence for several minutes.
"I have no right to insist on your remaining here when it's only a private grudge to be settled," said he at last. "If you boys want to go into Nebraska, Iowa or even farther north, you may. But mind you, you are only going to look over the ground, get acquainted with the lay of the land and find out some likely places to raid. There's to be no work done till I join you.
"If you can find Bill Chadwell, take him along. He knows every hog path in that country."
With their customary desire to be with their idol day and night when possible, Clell and Cole announced their determination to remain with him.
"I'd like to stay and I'd like to go," observed the man from the Lone Star State. "I've never been so far up north and I've always wanted to."
"Then go, by all means," assented the bandit-chieftain. "I don't want Frank to go alone, in case of accident. But the two of you ought to be able to take care of yourselves."
The matter thus settled, it was decided that the sooner the scouts started the better. And accordingly they saddled two of the horses, leaving the roan which had caused so much trouble, and made ready their clothes.
"Won't it make the people here ask questions if two men come and two go at night?" inquired Cole.
"Oh, I'll take care of that," returned his leader. "You boys keep your wits about you. We'll meet at the cave at Sni Mills in five weeks. Mind the time.
"Good bye and good luck."
And watching his pals until they disappeared in the woods, Jesse pegged down the flap of the tent, buttoned it and prepared for turning in.
At the saloons and in the gambling dens, the bandits were the chief topic of conversation. The wildest fabrications of imagination found ready believers. Some of those more under the influence of liquor than others asserted they had known the rich miners when they were grub-staking and prospecting in the mountains.
Every time the doors of the entrance swung open, an expectant hush fell on the inmates as they turned toward them to see if the arrivals should be the men about whom they were talking, only to be disappointed. Wondrous tales of their drinking and gambling abilities were told by their self-styled acquaintances and confidently these promised their fellows that before the night was out they would see goings on that would open their eyes. But as midnight came without any signs of the subjects of the stories, those who had swallowed the yarns began to grow skeptical and many a fight was the result of their freely expressed doubts.
Those who thronged to the dancing pavilion in the hope that they might see the heroes of the rescue at close range, perhaps even manage to secure them as partners, were likewise disappointed at the failure of the outlaws to show themselves. Many a maiden who had made her toilet with elaborate care that it might attract the attention of the rumor-created millionaires vented her vexation on her favourite swain, causing the latter to leave in a huff. And because of these lover's tiffs, the young people forsook the canvas at an unusually early hour.
But the disappointment of the evening was forgotten in the excitement of the morning!
Early risers had discovered that of the thoroughbreds two were missing.
Jumping to the conclusion that their disappearance was the work of some of Consollas' friends, these men had rushed to Jesse's tent, yelling for him to come out only to have their, as they supposed, startling information driven from their minds by the astonishment at seeing the strange face of Cole and the absence of Frank.
"What's the row?" asked the great outlaw, gazing from one to another of the bewildered faces before him, though he was well aware that the missing thoroughbreds were the cause.
"Y—your horses, t—two of them are g—gone," stammered someone.
"I know it," returned Jesse in a quiet tone.
For a moment, he was tempted to offer no explanation, then deeming it unwise to leave the mystery unsolved, added:
"I was obliged to send out two messengers in the night."
The provokingly matter of fact way in which he made his statement perplexed the hearers all the more.
Only one of his companions of the day before, known to them as Sam Sloan, did they miss, yet he had said that he had despatched two men, and in his place was a new face.
As they tried to reconcile these facts, it suddenly dawned on them that events had transpired during the night of which they were in ignorance. Startled by the thought, with one accord they hurried away without making excuses, eager to circulate the latest news about the interesting strangers.
His face breaking into a smile as he watched their unceremonious departure, the bandit-chieftain chuckled.
"There'll be lots of folks in this burg that won't wait to eat their usual breakfasts in their haste to get to this tent to see for themselves. Cole, I've a good mind to tie you inside and charge admission for a look at you." Then dropping his banter, he continued: "Before they come, and while we have the chance, we'll look to our shooting-irons. There's no telling how far a calf can jump by looking at him, and the situation may get beyond our control at any moment."
Thus recalled to the smoldering volcano of suspicious curiosity on which they were standing, Clell and Cole inspected their guns carefully, put new cartridges in the chambers and a plentiful supply in their pockets.
Scarcely had they completed the task when the first of the inquisitive crowd arrived, their number increasing each minute.
As people watch a sleeping animal in a menagerie, hoping that it may rouse itself and do something, so the throng watched the closed flap of the supposed miners' tent after having hurriedly verified the fact that only the roan mare was left where the three horses had been at twilight.
One family at the resort there was, however, who were ignorant of the change in the personnel of occupiers of the tent—the Roziers.
Agog over the coming of the detectives and the events the day would disclose, the banker and his son had got up at an hour unheard of for them and driven to the station in two carriages that they might get the sleuths from the depot to their house in the least possible time and with the least possible publicity.
Surprise at their appearance was forgotten by the regular hack and 'bus drivers in their eagerness to secure fares from the arrivals by the train and when they did remember them the Rozier turnouts were nowhere to be seen.
With little difficulty, the president of the savings institution had picked out the detectives. Quickly assuring himself that he was right, he bundled them into the carriages and drove them rapidly to his home.
Declining to broach the reason for their summons till the men had breakfasted, the banker took them to his den as soon as the meal was finished.
Employing the same precautions against eavesdroppers that he had when talking with his son, Mr. Rozier motioned them to chairs, offered them cigars and, taking his place at his desk, laid the case before them.
"Allow me to compliment you, sir, on your lucid exposition of the facts," remarked the man in charge of the detectives, patronizingly, as the banker concluded. "If I had been directing the case myself I couldn't have done it better.
"May I suggest that young Mr. Rozier be sent on his mission at once? The sooner he makes a report on the case, the sooner shall we be able to get to work."
Acquiescing readily, the bank president ordered his son to start, with the injunction to keep his head about him.
Astonished at the crowd surrounding his destination so early, young Rozier quickly learned its cause.
Perplexed by the information, he nevertheless elbowed his way to the still closed tent flap.
After vainly trying to attract the attention of the inmates by scratching on the canvas, he called:
"I say, Mr. Howard, let a fellow in, won't you? I'm Rozier, Forman A. Rozier, Jr."
Although the outlaws had heard the first tampering with the tent, they made no move till the request was uttered.
"The fun's begun," breathed Jesse to his chums as he got up from his camp stool and unbuttoned the flap.
Inwardly glad that it was the boy instead of his father against whom he was to match his brains, for that the visit would develop into a battle of wits he had no doubt, the world-famous bandit threw open the canvas, exclaiming blandly:
"This is an unexpected pleasure! Come in, won't you? Because your fellow townsmen persist in treating us as though we were animals on exhibition we are obliged to keep the flap down."
Jumping to the conclusion that his task was already as good as done because of the cordiality of the greeting when he had anticipated a brusqueness that would tax his diplomacy to overcome, the boy entered while his host once more closed and buttoned the canvass.
Yet could he have seen the wink that Jesse sent to his pals from behind his back, the youth would have lost his confidence.
His work which had taken but a few seconds, ended, the great outlaw turned to his guest.
"This is Mr. Prentiss, Mr. Rozier and this is Mr. Bemis," he said introducing Clell and Cole. "Take a camp stool, won't you? I can't offer you a chair."
Now that he was in the presence of the men he hoped to unmask and brand as villains, the banker's son was at a loss how to proceed and sat in embarrassed silence after acknowledging the introductions.
Determined to leave the opening of the conversation to their caller, Jesse held his peace, enjoying the lad's increasing discomfiture.
Taking their cues from their leader, Clell and Cole said nothing.
The pause was awkward and each moment made it more so—for young Rozier.
Try as he would, however, the lad could think of no way to make an opening for his questions. Obviously it would not do to ask about the mines abruptly.
Finally, getting desperate, he took out his cigar case, stammering:
"Have a—have a cigar?"
"No thank you," responded Jesse. "My partner, Mr. Bemis, brought on a supply of a special kind we have made for us from Mexican tobacco and I prefer those." But despite his words, the bandit-chieftain made no move to get any.
Nettled by the refusal, for he realized that it meant that the men before him would accept nothing, not even a smoke, from his hands, the banker's son summoned all his courage and asked:
"Mr. Bemis wasn't here yesterday when you made your wonderful rescue of my sister, was he?"
"No, he was not," returned the great outlaw.
"I heard that some friends of yours had come—and gone—" he emphasized, "in the night. You should have got here before, Mr. Bemis. I never saw such remarkable nerve in my life."
Ere Cole could reply, however, Jesse interposed:
"By the way, your recalling the incident makes me think. Were you anywhere near me when we were punishing Consollas?"
Unable to understand at what his questioner was driving when he knew that the latter must remember the quarrel over his sister's note, young Rozier replied, significantly:
"I was at your elbow."
"Oh, were you? There were so many strange faces I failed to recall yours."
"He's trying to wriggle out of refusing Sally's request by pretending he didn't recognize me," thought the boy to himself and vowing not to let him, he was racking his brains for some way to block him when Jesse continued:
"I'm glad. You may be able to help me.
"While the little wretch was struggling to prevent my putting him in the kettle, I lost a watch charm, a gold nugget, that I wouldn't part with for ten—no, nor for twenty—thousand dollars.
"Did you see any one near me who might have picked it up, unnoticed in the excitement?"
The question was asked quietly, with no unusual emphasis. But it was loaded!
By it the great bandit sought to learn whether or not the banker's son was the person who had uttered the exclamation as his beard was pulled from his face.
Its answer would tell if the call of young Rozier was an act of friendliness or of hostility.
The unsuspecting lad, however, accepted it at its face value, responding:
"There was no one near you but Mr. Sloan and myself. If I had seen it, I should have called your attention to it. Probably it was trampled in the dirt."
As he heard the admission, Jesse's eyes grew steely.
There was no longer any doubt in his mind that his caller had discovered his disguise. Yet it was necessary to learn the plans and purpose of the banker before acting.
The battle of wits was on!
Instinctively the occupants of the tent realized that the apparently harmless question and answer had changed their relations.
Not clever enough to understand that his guns had been spiked, the banker's son, considering it an unhoped-for opportunity, prattled on:
"I suppose it was associated with some of your early diggings."
Unwilling to commit himself, the bandit-chieftain made no comment, an omission, the youth decided, that showed his reluctance to speak about his mines and the more eagerly he determined to make him.
"I hear you have some very valuable mines," he continued, apparently ignoring "Howard's" silence.
"Who told you?" demanded Jesse.
"Oh, it's common talk. They say you're on your way to New York to raise funds to buy others. If you don't mind my saying so, I think you, or your—friends, ought to be more close mouthed. Still, for my part I'm glad you weren't. I've some money to invest and I want to talk about going in with you."
The ice broken, young Rozier no longer found difficulty in playing his part and rattled on glibly.
"I asked father about it and he said he would consider it if he could be convinced that they were good mines. You know there are so many swindling schemes," he added maliciously.
Had he been older or more accustomed to reading men, he would have understood from the expression in the bandit-chieftain's eyes that he had overshot his mark. But in the blind confidence of his youth, he rushed out the questions uppermost in his mind.
"Of course, Mr. Howard, father doesn't mean that your mines aren't all right. What he wants to know is where they are.
"Have you any map of them or, rather, as of course you have one to show in New York, will you let me take it and show it to father?
"He has some capitalists consulting with him at the house now and he might be able to interest them so that it would not be necessary for you to go to New York for the money."
The purpose to unmask him through the mines he, himself, had said he owned was as clear to the great desperado as though he had been in the banker's study the previous evening when the plan was unfolded.
Remembering the old adage "forewarned is forearmed," Jesse determined to balk the attempt to catch him in the lie, yet not so bluntly as to let the bank president know that he had discovered his purpose.
"I am deeply obliged for your father's interest," he dissembled, "but I do not need any outside assistance. Mr. Bemis brought a gentleman here last night who has arranged for the money and Mr. Sloan went away with him to pass the papers.
"And now, if you'll excuse us, we have some business to discuss. Mr. Prentiss is returning to the mines in a day or so."
Bewildered by the dashing of his hopes, young Rozier allowed himself to be bowed from the tent.
As he stood on the other side of the canvass, Jesse's mocking laugh reached him.
With a start, the banker's son realized that he had done all talking, had shown his hand and learned nothing in return.
Flushing with rage, he scowled blackly at the tent, hissing:
"Wait! Just wait!" and hurried to rejoin his father and the detectives.