Guy Harris, the Runaway

by Harry Castlemon

Guy remonstrated loudly, but it was all in vain. The officer was firm, and the boy was obliged to accompany him down the mountain and through the little village that lay at its foot, to the calaboose—a small, strongly built log cabin, provided with a heavy oaken door and grated windows. There was but one room in the building, as Guy found when the door was opened, and just then it had no occupants.

“Now, then,” said the officer giving his prisoner a push, “go in there, and stay till the rope comes up from San Joaquin. We hang horse-thieves in this country.”

This was the second time Guy had been made the victim of the man he had trusted so implicitly. He understood his situation as well as if Zeke had been there to explain it to him. The hunter, not daring to rob him in the settlements for fear that Mr. Wilson would interest himself in the matter, had enticed him into the mountains, where he could accomplish his purpose without danger to himself. He had stolen the horse for Guy to ride, and then, in order to draw suspicion from himself, had left him in the boy’s possession, well-knowing that if he showed himself in the settlements during the day-time, he would be arrested and charged with the theft. And horse-thieves were hanged in that country, so the constable had told him! If the man said this to frighten him, he certainly succeeded in his object. Almost overcome with terror at the bare thought, Guy threw himself upon a dirty mattress in one corner of the jail and cried bitterly, until exhausted nature gave way and he forgot his troubles in sleep.

He slept until it was almost dark, and was then awakened by the sound of voices. He started up to find the door of his prison open, and the entrance crowded with excited, struggling men. Conspicuous among them was a gigantic fellow, clad like a miner, whose wrists and ankles were loaded with irons. The others were trying to push him into the jail, and he was trying as hard to prevent them. Encumbered as he was he fought desperately for his liberty, and once seemed almost on the point of escaping from his captors, but he was at last thrown headlong upon the floor of the calaboose, and the door was slammed behind him.

Guy’s companion in misery acted more like a wild beast than a human being. No sooner had he gained his feet than he threw himself with all his strength against the door; but seeing that he made no impression upon it, he turned his attention to one of the windows, seizing the bars with his hands and exerting all his strength to tear them from their fastenings.

Failing in this, he drew himself up by the bars of the window and butted his head against the logs which formed the ceiling, but nothing gave way under his fierce attacks, and finding at last that escape was impossible he fell to pacing the narrow jail, rattling his chains and swearing and threatening at the top of his voice.

Guy was afraid of him. Slowly and cautiously he drew himself off the mattress, and retreated into the farthest corner of the room, where he sat cowering and trembling and watching the movements of this wild beast in human form, who continued to pace backward and forward, clanking his chains and uttering imprecations. Guy was glad indeed when the night settled down and concealed him from the man’s sight.

At last a murmur of voices outside the building attracted the attention of the prisoner, who paused in his walk and gazed eagerly toward the door, bending forward in a listening attitude. The noise grew louder and louder. Then a short struggle was heard outside the cabin, the door flew open, admitting a flood of light which streamed from a dozen lanterns, and a crowd of armed men rushed in. They seized the prisoner, wound a rope about his neck, and in spite of his resistance pulled him out of the calaboose.

Guy, hardly realizing what was going on, was borne with the crowd, which filled every corner of the jail, out through the door, past the constable, who was lying bound and helpless beside the building, and up the road leading to the mountains. Then somebody pushed him roughly aside, and he found himself standing alone. He was free, the road was open, and he could go where he pleased.

Frightened as he was, Guy was prompt to seize upon the opportunity for escape thus unexpectedly offered to him. Very slowly and deliberately he drew himself further away from the crowd, and when the last man had passed him and hurried up the mountain, and there was no one in sight to observe his movements, he broke into a run and made the best of his way through the now deserted village and along the road that led to the plains beyond.