We padlocked the door we had rigged up over the mouth of the cave, and by the time it was locked he was asleep; we could hear him snoring when we lit out for town again.
On the calaboose door, and in front of the post-office, and on the bank, we tacked big notices. They were printed rough on wrapping paper and spelled wrong so it would look like some tough customers had done it. They read as follows:
Bill Patterson has Bin stole 5 hundred $$ ransum must be left on baptis Cherch steps by Monday mid-night or his life pays us forfut like a Theef in the nite he was took from jale who Will Be next!
—the kidNappers.
Next morning we were all up at the cave as early as we could make it. I had a loaf of bread and a pie and part of a boiled ham, and Pete had some canned sardines and bacon he got out of his dad's store, and the others were loaded up with eggs and canned fruit and what they could get hold of easy. You may believe it or not, but when we opened that cave door Bill was still asleep. Squint woke him up and told him:
“Prisoner, it is the intention of the Dalton Gang to treat you with all the honours of war until such time as you are ransomed, or, if not ransomed, executed. So long as you make no effort to escape you need have no fear.”
“I ain't afeared,” says Bill, looking at that grub like he could hardly believe his eyes. We built a fire and cooked breakfast. There was a hollow stump on the side of the hill, and we had dug into the bottom of it through the top of the cave. It made a regular chimney for our fireplace. If any one saw the stump smoking outside they would only think some farmer was burning out stumps.
Bill always wore a piece of rope around his waist in place of a belt or suspenders. When he had eaten so much he had to untie the rope he sat back and lighted his pipe, and said to me, right cunning:
“I'll bet you ain't got any idea what state this here is.”
“It's Illinois,” says I. He looked like he was pleased to hear it.