“Oh, it don’t seem possible, sirs, it don’t,” he said tremblingly.
“He’s been tracing around with the wife of one of my friends here, I tell you, old man; and what’s more, she’s in the bank with him this moment.”
“I didn’t see her go in, sir; and if a wooman did go there, sir, I couldn’t help it, sir.”
“Well, I did,” insisted Tall Jim, with affected fierceness. “I saw my friend’s wife go in that bank, early in the evening, and she’s been there ever since. Now, sir, there’s going to be a little rail-riding done before sunrise, and at the end of the journey there’ll be found a big smoking kettle of tar and a fine fat tick of soft geese feathers; and when we’re through, there’ll be a new sort of a bird in this community, and we’re going to make it out of your friend the watchman. We’ll soon be in the bank, so don’t have any doubt about it.”
“Oh, gentlemen, let me go!” pleaded the poor fellow, at this harangue from Jim. “I h’ain’t been runnin’ ’round with wimmin, and if I had, I h’ain’t got a place t’ take ’em, except this gas-house; and what wooman would come here?”
“We believe you,” replied Tall Jim; “and the only way to prevent two birds, like I’ve described to you, being made, and the last bird is likely to be a dead one, is for you to point your face toward that gas-house door, and going inside, stay there till daylight. Then, when you think of what you’ve heard and seen to-night, just call it all a dream, and be sure to forget the dream so you can’t tell it to any one. What’s your answer, old man?”
“My answer, sir, my answer, sir—yes—yes, sir, I promise you all, everything, sir,” cried the bewildered man. I was glad that he was soon to be out of his trouble.
“Well, then, you’re free, and there’s the door,” said Jim, giving the fellow a shove that sent him hurtling toward the gas-house; “and don’t dare to come out till sunrise, and then don’t be in too much of a hurry about it. In with you!”
Though at times I was filled up to the bursting point with laughter over the ridiculousness of the scene, it seemed a trifle hard to thus treat the poor fellow, maimed as he was; but I presumed our safety depended somewhat upon the close tongue this man kept, at least for a few hours. But as I saw his dark form stagger into the doorway, I was not sorry. Then we lost no time in getting to the skiff and putting ourselves on the other side of the river, where we set out on foot toward Steubenville. Some of the party, particularly Jack Utley, did a lot of grumbling over the dismal failure of our first bank-breaking venture.
Before reaching Steubenville, we decided to camp in a squatty wood through which we had come on our journey out, it seeming to offer a fair hiding-place. At daylight I went to the village and got some provisions. After breakfast the gang went to sleep, while I did picket duty again. About ten o’clock in the morning Tall Jim and Hughes made a trip to Steubenville and canvassed it, but returned shortly, reporting their failure to find any bank there worth tackling. When the question of funds came up, some one suggested taking an inventory, which was done, with the result that our combined capital was a little less than ten dollars. This showed all hands that something must be done forthwith to replenish our treasury; for with the furnishing of each meal the situation was growing worse. I had in mind what my task would be, presently, in the way of supplying food for these gullets, and with little or no cash to do it. It made me faint-hearted to think of it.