The Bail Jumper

by Robert J. C. Stead

His first impulse was to rush in, throttle Gardiner, and escort Miss Vane home. He stole back to the window with this determination in his heart, but a second look at the girl made him pause. Whatever the explanation of her presence here she was evidently not a prisoner. She was talking with Gardiner, talking in a low voice which he could not hear for the din of the night. But there was no anger in her eyes, rather a deep sorrow, and the sympathetic quiver of her lip, which passed across it even more quickly than the uncertain flicker of the fire, brought a lump to the boy’s throat and banished every thought of forcible intrusion. After all, Gardiner had been a good friend to him. Had he withdrawn his bond after the discovery of the money, as most men would, Burton at this moment would not have been at liberty. And, while he could not understand their presence here at such a time and in such a manner, it might be that after all a satisfactory explanation could be given. Certainly he could not improve the situation by intruding.

They were talking earnestly, in short, tense sentences. Then Miss Vane spoke at a little greater length, kindly, as he thought, as one may do who does not wish to wound a friend, and Gardiner took her hand in his and raised it to his lips.

Burton waited for nothing more. He drew away from the window as quietly as he had come and started his tramp through mud and water back to town. He had now one thought only, to get away, to escape, to forget Plainville and Plainville people for ever. The last thin, silvery, cord, stronger in its slender weave than any cable of steel, which had bound him to the place was broken, snapped at the distant end. It still wound round his heart and would deepen and tighten there forever, but its other anchorage was gone. The pain was there but the restraint was removed; Plainville was now less to him than any town of the great new West. And to that great new country he would take himself, as quickly and as cunningly as he knew. They would think he had crossed the line, that would be the natural conclusion; instead, he would beat his way into one of the new provinces and lose himself in the desolation of a homestead far from the furthest edge of civilisation.

Burton thought these things out as he tramped the muddy road, guided by the incessant lightning which still played in the heavens, although the force of the storm had passed to the eastward. The revival of a purpose was as a rudder to his life; again he threw back his shoulders and drank in the night air, purified and vitalized by the hundred million volts of electricity shot through it in the last few hours. He was tired and wet, but his mind had been revived from its stupor, and he tasted the strange delight of the hunted man—the joy of matching his wit against the united wit of society and the machinery of government. As the fox who eludes the hounds may well be conceived to glory among his fellows over his accomplishment, so hunted man glories in his ability to outwit his pursuers, and in addition can take the heroic attitude of the one against the million.

As he approached the town he left the main road and swung down toward the river, where was a water-tank beside the railway bridge. It was the custom of the west-bound freights to take water at this tank, and he trusted to a happy chance that such a train might come along before daylight.

As though to encourage him in his new resolve he had scarcely reached the tank when he heard the whistle of an approaching train. He walked back along the track, keeping well into the shadow of the cut-bank. The engines on that division did not use electric lights, and he had little fear of being seen by the crew as they swept past.

The train pulled up slowly, the engineer having allowed for a wet rail and shut off steam well down the line. He slid a little past the tank on his first stop and was obliged to back up a rail-length; meanwhile Burton had located a car with a threshing separator and engine on it, and had little difficulty in getting on board while the tender was receiving water. Feeling cautiously about the separator, he soon found an open trap-door with a space inside large enough to accommodate him, and here he concealed himself. It was dry in there, and the night was still warm with lightning; he huddled himself up and almost before the train was in motion had fallen asleep.

When he awoke he was sore in every joint, and at first he stared in bewilderment at the slats and pulleys about him. But he soon recalled that he was a fugitive, a hunted man, a man who dared not travel under the name his mother gave him, and the thought brought less enthusiasm than he had felt the night before. He was conscious, also, of hunger, and feeling in his pockets found some broken biscuits and a few crumbs of cheese. These he ate eagerly and settled back again to wait for the train to resume its journey.

As time wore on and the train did not start the boy became impatient, and at last ventured to look out. The car on which he had concealed himself stood alone, on a side track at a flag station where it had been set off in the early morning. He was not more than forty miles from Plainville, and in a country where he might easily be identified. He saw a farm house about half-a-mile away, and as the sun was approaching the zenith he doubted not that inside were a pot of boiling potatoes and a roast of beef, with the best the good wife’s garden could produce. He had only a few cents in his pocket, but a good muscle in his arm, and was not afraid to work for a meal, but he feared to reveal himself lest it might later lead to his identification. After thinking it over he decided to remain in his hiding place until dark, when he would steal to the farmer’s garden and ward off starvation with his vegetables.

He had settled back to put in the time as best he could when another thought occurred to him. This threshing outfit had evidently been consigned to some farmer of the district, and was likely to be unloaded that very day. True, it was a little early in the season for threshing mills, but the companies were anxious to get as many as possible placed before the real rush of harvest was upon them, and there was no reason to suppose that this car would be taken any further until unloaded. And, if he should be found concealed in the separator, then explanations would be required.