Chapter X.
THE DASH FOR LIBERTY.
With a look of gloating, Jones turned toward Mrs. Prior, his lips parted to speak.
Yet he uttered no sound.
Every member of the Prior family was grinning. Why, none of them could have told had their lives depended on it. Possibly their very anxiety was the cause. But whatever produced the emotion, its effect upon the detectives was instantaneous.
"That was a signal," hissed one of them. "Be careful about opening the door; our men may be ambushing us."
The idea of an ambuscade inside a house was novel, yet the suggestion appealed to the man-hunters and their leader determined to take no risks.
"Some of you, who know the way, go first," commanded Jones.
"Don't you do it," retorted Mrs. Prior. "It's an outrage to search this house, anyway, but if these men insist, let 'em go where they please and then they can't say we didn't give 'em a free hand."
Realizing the woman was a Tartar, the man in charge of the searching party turned to his fellows.
"Have your guns ready. These people evidently intend to do all they can to block us, but we'll show 'em we can find Jesse James without their help and in spite of them.
"If you hear any suspicious noise, shoot. The cut-throats won't hesitate to kill us in their efforts to escape!"
The bitterness with which Jones snapped out his words was apparently lost on the friends of the outlaws, for they made no response, but in their hearts they made silent vows that if they could do anything to prevent the discovery of the world-famous desperadoes they would. And with sullen, defiant looks they watched the four men.
In evident fear that his appearance in the doorway would be greeted with a rain of bullets, Jones lifted the latch and pulled open the door, jumping back as he did so.
As no sign of the bandits was disclosed, the man-hunters took courage and rushed into the parlour with Jeff and Farmer Prior, shot-guns in their hands, at their heels.
Room after room was ransacked with a thoroughness that consumed much time. Beds were moved, clothes and mattresses searched; every piece of furniture that was large enough to shield a man was hauled from its place and the closets were emptied of their contents. The remotest corners of the attic were explored with the aid of matches.
Yet the failure to locate their quarry only made the man-hunters the more determined.
Leaving his men to go over the ground again, Jones descended and went out into the yard to consult with Higgins and the others.
Their curiosity aroused by the sight of the strange men guarding the farmhouse, the neighbours flocked to learn the reason, some going inside to talk with the family, others trying to wrest their information from the close-mouthed man-hunters.
The sleuths, however, were unwilling to announce that they were searching for the notorious Jesse lest it should not prove he after all, for they feared the taunts and jeers such a mistake would bring upon them.
No reluctance did Mrs. Prior have, however, and loudly she bemoaned the insult of the action, proclaiming in no uncertain terms that she would have redress if it were possible.
As word flew about that the miners were none other than the notorious bandits, the people were amazed. But with a wholesome regard for their own skins, they fell back to a safe distance and watched the house open-mouthed, their numbers increasing constantly.
"I'll go back with you," declared Higgins when his side partner had reported the fruitlessness of the first search. "We'll try the chimneys. If you could hear the cough, it must have come from them. Did you try the fireplaces?"
"By Jove! I never thought of them."
And eagerly Jones followed his co-worker back into the house.
Summoning their men from the upper chambers, the two set at work to remove the large fireboard in the parlour.
But the task was no easy one, for it hadn't been disturbed for years. Though to some of them this fact indicated that their quarry had not hidden behind it, Jones suggested that they might have dropped down into the opening from above and they continued their efforts.
In the ham chamber, Jesse and his companions were cursing the persistence of the detectives whose actions and words reached them through the flue from the parlour.
The smoke and fumes from the curing hams made their eyes water and parched their lungs, till it seemed to them that it would be preferable to run the risk of an encounter with the man-hunters than to be slowly smothered to death.
Warned by the cough that had escaped from Cole, which Jones had heard, the outlaws sat with handkerchiefs in their mouths both to keep out some of the smoke and to stifle any choking or sneeze.
With feelings of dismay they had caught the sound of the work on the fireboard and scarce daring to breathe they listened, their six-shooters ready for instant use.
At last the chimney board yielded to the efforts to remove it and with a cry of triumph, Jones and Higgins crawled into the fireplace, peering up the flue.
Yet there was nothing to be seen.
Chagrined, the detectives rose to their feet.
"Let's start a smudge," proposed Dillaby. "Maybe they're higher up the chimney and if they are, we can smoke 'em out."
As they heard the plan, the farmer and his son exchanged glances. The building of a fire would send the smoke into the ham room in such quantities that it would force the outlaws to leave it, yet they dared not protest and stared blankly at one another.
"I guess we've hit on the right place," chuckled Higgins as he noticed the woe-begone expressions on the faces of the two men. "Hurry and get kindling, some of you. Tell the boys outside to watch the top of the chimney and to send me word when they see a head appear.
"Jesse's bottled himself up good and tight this time!"
With their usual haste, the detectives were counting their eggs before they were hatched!
And with delightful forgetfulness of the many times gone by when they thought they had captured the desperado only to find that they hadn't, Dillaby and Jones rushed to get the stuff to start the smudge.
"Found 'em?" grunted Mrs. Prior, as the detectives burst into the kitchen in which all the intimate friends of the family were excitedly discussing the sensational turn in events.
"We think—we hope so," rejoined Dillaby.
Surprised at the confidence in the man's tone, the housewife shot a keen glance from under her eyebrows and there was a suspicious eagerness in her voice as she asked:
"Where are they?"
"You'll see fast enough when we smoke 'em out," snapped the sleuth and without stopping to explain, he went into the shed, quickly returning with a basket of chips and bark.
Watching the detectives as they passed into the parlour, Mrs. Prior slammed the door after them and placed her plump body against it, at the same time beckoning to Marjorie and Susie.
"Go upstairs just as quick as you can. Get some towels and a pitcher of water and hand it to Jess.
"He and the boys'll suffocate in the ham-chamber if you don't.
"I'll stand guard down here. You'd best take off your shoes so the men in the parlour won't hear you walking about."
Deftly removing their footwear, the two girls stole up the back stairs that led from the kitchen and hurried to get the relief to the suffering bandits.
The pitcher of water and the towels were secured without delay, but it was a different matter to give them to the outlaws without discovery.
Taking their places on the stairs, Marjorie cautiously removed the little door.
Startled by the unexpected move, Jesse and his men trained their revolvers on the opening, wondering in their hearts how their retreat had been located.
The position of the girls was dangerous in the extreme. Yet not till they caught sight of a pistol barrel did they realize it.
Quickly recovering, however, Susie said in a voice loud enough for her brother to hear:
"Put the towels in first, Marjorie. They'll deaden the touching on the bricks of the pitcher."
Recognizing the voice of his sister, the world-famous desperado lowered his weapon and crept toward the cubby-hole.
"Have Jeff get horses for us and hold 'em in front of the next house. We can't stay here any longer, we'll die.
"When the nags are ready come and open this door. We'll leave our beards here.
"Now, hurry!"
Not pausing to argue, though they deemed the risk of the dash for liberty Jesse's words disclosed as his plan, foolhardy, the girls hurriedly replaced the little door and went down to the kitchen.
"Don't call Jeff," exclaimed Mrs. Prior when she had been apprised of the orders of the bandit-chieftain. "Helen will do it a good deal better.
"Just go out to the barn and turn all the horses loose. Bridle three of them and drive the whole lot into the street. If you should take only three, the men on the outside would get suspicious. The boys—"
But her words were interrupted by Jeff who burst into the kitchen, crying:
"The chimney's afire! The chimney's afire!"
In despair, the housewife looked at Susie, Marjorie and Helen.
There was no use in getting out the horses. There would be too many people both inside and out for the outlaws to have a chance of getting away.
Already the column of smoke pouring from the chimney, and the tongue of flame that now and then darted from its top, had attracted the attention of the crowd in the street.
The dread word "fire" was shouted from all sides and men came rushing into the kitchen to assist in removing the household goods.
"Don't touch anything! It's only the chimney burning out!" shrilled Mrs. Prior. "Get some salt! Get some salt!"
And rushing to the cupboard she grabbed a box of the condiment, then ran into the parlour.
With no intention of setting the accretion of soot in the flue to burning, the detectives were, however, far from sorry as they heard the roar of the flames in the chimney and, their faces wreathed in broad smiles, they laughed and talked together.
"That'll drive 'em out, I reckon," chuckled Dillaby just at the moment the farmer's wife entered the room.
"You won't feel so funny, you grinning monkeys, if this house burns down!" she snapped.
If it does, you'll pay for it—and well, too.
"Helen, run down to the square and ask lawyer Perkins to come up here just as fast as he can. I'll see if there isn't some way to prevent these men from outraging us any more.
"Jeff Prior, you keep 'em covered in that corner with your shot gun and don't let 'em leave this room. Ephraim, you help me throw this salt into the chimney."
Neighbours had thronged into the room during the speech and while some of them assisted in putting the salt onto the fire, that its fumes might be drawn upward and stifle the blazing soot, others ranged themselves about the man-hunters, freely expressing their opinions of the men who had invaded the sacred privacy of the Prior home.
And never was there a more disgruntled looking set of detectives.
Aware that they had carried matters with a high hand, they had, nevertheless, trusted to the inherent awe of one of their kind, present in every breast, to still any violent opposition to their actions, even to the burning out of the chimney.
But when they heard Mrs. Prior's command to her daughter to summon the family legal adviser, they realized that they had overshot their mark and their one thought was to get out of the house before the counsellor should arrive.
But when Higgins started to move he was brought up short.
"Stay whar you be!" growled Jeff. "You ain't any on you goin' to leave this house till lawyer Perkins says you can."
Protesting against such treatment the man-hunters were, however, obliged to submit to it, their decision accelerated by the townfolk who rallied to the young farmer's support.
For even in those days, detectives were looked down upon and despised.
With the aid of the salt, the fire was soon under control and the men and women impatiently awaited the arrival of the member of the legal profession, filling in the time by suggesting all the dire things they would do to the detectives if they were the Priors.
Expostulation and diplomacy on the part of the man-hunters who had deserted their posts outside, when they were told of the predicament of their fellows, were alike unavailing and to such vigorous tongue-lashings were they subjected by the irate townspeople that they were glad enough to return to their guard duties at Higgins' command.
At last Squire Perkins arrived, the fact being announced by those in the yard, followed as soon as possible by his appearance in the parlour.
A tall man, with white hair and beard, his piercing eyes made still more formidable by the bushy brows from beneath which they flashed, his frock coat hanging loosely from his shoulders, a pair of eye-glasses tucked between the top buttons of his waistcoat, an ebony cane with a gold, monogrammed head in his hand, Mr. Perkins presented the appearance of a typical member of the profession of olden times.
Taking a cursory glance at the room and its occupants, though there was probably nothing about any of them that escaped his eagle eyes, Mr. Perkins turned to the flushed housewife.
"What's the trouble, Mrs. Prior?" he asked in a deep, powerful voice.
With a torrent of words, the woman poured out her tale of outraged dignity.
Several times, Higgins, Jones and Dillaby sought to interrupt but a peremptory "wait until you're spoken to," accompanied by a savage scowl, from the barrister was sufficient to silence them and they subsided.
As the woman paused there was a hush while all eyes were focused upon the lawyer.
Conscious of the attention, Squire Perkins threw back his shoulders, gave a sharp tap with his cane and looking full at the detectives declared:
"Your great mistake, Mrs. Prior, was in allowing these men to enter your home in the first place. 'A man's house is his castle.' That always has been the law and I believe it still is, unless it's been changed since I left my office.
"These men had no business to search your house without a search warrant. And they know it as well as I do.
"You can recover damages from them and I believe that an action will lie against them for the shock and humiliation to which their high-handed goings-on have subjected you.
"If you wish, I will draw the papers. In the mean time, as a justice of the peace, I will grant you warrants for their arrest on the ground of trespass.
"Jefferson, by virtue of my powers, I appoint you a special officer to conduct these men to my office.
"And you, men, let me advise you to obey quietly—or it will go all the harder with you.
"Lead the way, Jefferson. I'll watch them from behind."
Their breath taken away by the sudden change in affairs, the man-hunters moved forward, when there was a crash overhead.
In amazement, everyone looked at the ceilings, but the next moment there came sounds of hurried feet on the back stairs.
"There they are! Let us go! It's Jesse James!" shouted Higgins, making a spring for the hallway, only to find himself headed off by the rush of men and women.
Driven almost distracted by the suffocating influx of smoke and later by the fumes from the salt, the desperadoes had stood it till they heard the arrival of the lawyer.
Believing that in the resulting confusion, they would be able to get away, or at least out of the house, the bandit-chieftain had whispered his intentions to his pals.
When he tried the little door, however, he had found that he could not open it from the inside.
Muttering that he would rather die in an open fight than be choked to death, he struck it a blow with his pistol butt, sending it clattering to the stairs.
Realizing that the racket would attract attention, he snapped:
"Be ready to shoot our way out," and crawled from the ham chamber.
As quickly as possible Cole followed. When all three were on the stairs, Jesse raised his six-shooters and dashed down them.
Only a couple of women, who had been unable to force their way into the parlour, were in the kitchen and as they beheld the three wild-eyed, pistol-waving men leap into the room, they screamed and promptly fainted.
Two windows were behind them.
"You-all take the left hand one," commanded the world-famous desperado.
The commotion inside had been heard by the detectives on guard out of doors and they rushed toward the kitchen.
In the parlour, men and women were struggling to get into the hallway, effectually blocking off Higgins and his fellows.
Seizing a knife from the table, Jesse slammed the door at the kitchen end of the hallway, jammed the knife in such a way over the latch that it would hold it down, then shut and bolted the door leading into the yard.
"Round the house to the back side!" yelled someone who had seen Cole and Clell throw up the window-sashes while their chief was closing the doors.
Pausing at the cry, the detectives turned and raced back, thinking to get a shot at the outlaws as they leaped from the windows.
Followed by the townfolk they ran, leaving the yard practically empty.
Where the bandits had tied them stood the three horses.
"Quick! This way, boys!" cried the great outlaw. "We can gain our horses! 'Don't shoot unless you have to!'"
As he had uttered his change of plans, Jesse had unbolted the door and when his companions were at his side, he threw it open and rushed to the ponies.
Cutting the reins with their knives, the three desperadoes vaulted into the saddles.
"Down behind the barn," whispered the great outlaw.
And digging the rowels of their spurs into the horses' flanks, the outlaws dashed off for the woods they could see at the back of the out-buildings.
But just as the outlaws thought they had made their escape unnoticed, a rifle cracked and Clell threw his arms over his head and swayed in his saddle, being prevented from falling by Jesse, who seized him about the waist.