“In the first place it is impossible that I murdered Abigail Prim, and in the second place my companion is not The Oskaloosa Kid and was not with Mr. Paynter last night. The reason I could not have murdered Miss Prim is because Miss Prim is not dead. These jewels were not stolen from Miss Prim, she took them herself from her own home. This boy whom you are about to hang is not a boy at all—it is Miss Prim, herself. I guessed her secret a few minutes ago and was convinced when she cried that the jewels and money were her own. I don't know why she wishes to conceal her identity; but I can't stand by and see her lynched without trying to save her.”
The crowd scoffed in incredulity. “There are some women here,” said Bridge. “Turn her over to them. They'll tell you, at least that she is not a man.”
Some voices were raised in protest, saying that it was a ruse to escape, while others urged that the women take the youth. Jeb Case stepped toward the subject of dispute. “I'll settle it durned quick,” he announced and reached forth to seize the slim figure. With a sudden wrench Bridge tore himself loose from his captors and leaped toward the farmer, his right flew straight out from the shoulder and Jeb Case went down with a broken jaw. Almost simultaneously a car sped around a curve from the north and stopped suddenly in rear of the mob. Two men leaped out and shouldered their way through. One was the detective, Burton; the other was Jonas Prim.
“Where are they?” cried the latter. “God help you if you've killed either of them, for one of them must know what became of Abigail.”
He pushed his way up until he faced the prisoners. The Oskaloosa Kid gave him a single look of surprise and then sprang toward him with outstretched arms.
“Oh, daddy, daddy!” she cried, “don't let them kill him.”
The crowd melted away from the immediate vicinity of the prisoners. None seemed anxious to appear in the forefront as a possible leader of a mob that had so nearly lynched the only daughter of Jonas Prim. Burton slipped the noose from about the girl's neck and then turned toward her companion. In the light from the automobile lamps the man's face was distinctly visible to the detective for the first time that night, and as Burton looked upon it he stepped back with an exclamation of surprise.
“You?” he almost shouted. “Gad, man! where have you been? Your father's spent twenty thousand dollars trying to find you.”
Bridge shook his head. “I'm sorry, Dick,” he said, “but I'm afraid it's too late. The open road's gotten into my blood, and there's only one thing that—well—” he shook his head and smiled ruefully—“but there ain't a chance.” His eyes travelled to the slim figure sitting so straight in the rear seat of Jonas Prim's car.
Suddenly the little head turned in his direction. “Hurry, Bridge,” admonished The Oskaloosa Kid, “you're coming home with us.”