Mr. Gilroy hastily wrote upon a sheet of fool’s-cap paper, then handed it to Mr. Saunders to be signed by the applicants. A long line filed in, and, signing, went out again. To each man one dollar was paid in advance for a meal, and advice given as to taking guns, clubs and other weapons with them.
The spirit of adventure, added to a good financial return, had attracted every one in the village, so that wives and mothers had packed up hearty lunches, and seen to it that the hunters were provided with firearms or cudgels for defense.
Scarcely a man or grown boy could be found in town who had not agreed to go out and hunt the felons for Mr. Gilroy. Before sundown that evening the village was left without a man in it. But here and there on the great mountainside twinkling lights could be seen, as the posse moved carefully upwards towards the camp.
The following morning found Mr. Gilroy feeling rested and eager to follow the villagers in their search for the outlaws. But the doctor who had sewed up the gash in his head advised the patient to rest all that day.
The girls made a great fuss over their sick guest—or at least they insisted upon calling him sick in spite of his protests to the contrary—and promised the physician that they would take every precaution to keep Mr. Gilroy quiet.
But they had no idea of how their promise was to be tested. They were soon to know, however.
On the first train that stopped at Freedom came the Chief of Police and a number of his officers from Junction, to capture the two escaped convicts. They went straight to Mr. Gilroy to learn all the facts from him, and having taken down his statement they spoke of securing horses, or a car, to take them up the mountainside.
“I hired all the horses and vehicles to be had in Freedom,” explained Mr. Gilroy, “but I will gladly turn over the auto to you, providing you take me with you on this trip.”
“Why! You can’t leave this porch, Mr. Gilroy,” exclaimed Julie.
“The doctor said we were to keep you very quiet,” added Joan.