Jack Wright and His Electric Stage - Noname (most life changing books .txt) 📗
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"Sure he did, an' axed me werry pertickler all about it. I was erwondsrin' wot he was erquizzin' me about so much, but reckon it wuz only his pesky curiosity."
"Very likely," said Jack, in grim tones. "Then he rode off?"
"Yes, an' or mighty likely nag it wuz, too, which he called Jim."
"That's Jim Malone," thought Jack.
The information he received plainly showed him that Frank James intended to rob the people of the Independence stage at the mountain ledge.
In order to do this he would very likely summon some of the gang and be at the pass at nine o'clock that night.
The storekeeper had no idea of this.
Indeed, as he did not know who Frank James was, not a suspicion of the truth of the matter was likely to enter his mind, for the bandit led him to suppose he was anxious to travel to the northern main line on that vehicle.
"In which direction did that man go?" asked Jack, in conclusion.
"Ter ther west'ard. But why d'yer want all or this infermation?"
"Simply became he is one of the James Boys."
"Holy–jumpin'–jingo!" gasped the man.
"He intends to rob that stage!"
"Oh, thunder! wot er big fool I wuz ter post him!"
"We will block his game. You keep mum."
"Yes kin jist bet I will!"
Jack returned aboard the Terror, and told his friends all he had learned, and a consultation was held.
It was then seven o'clock.
They had but little time to waste,
"Our plan to save the people in that stage coach from robbery is a very simple one," said Jack. "We must run ahead and intercept them."
"Supposin' them 'ere lundsharks is on ther road now? They will sight us again along ther trail," said Tim.
"We can make a detour," replied Jack. "The only place they are apt to use to waylay the coach will be along the ledge mentioned by the storekeeper."
"Fer sure." assented Fritz, "Ach, I vish me dot ve vos fighdin' dem now! Let her gone, Shack!"
The inventor started the Terror off.
It had begun to rain.
There was every indication of a wet night.
Jack had informed himself about the roads.
Both he and Tim put on their rubber clothing and occupied the front seat, where they managed the wheel.
A detour was made, and several miles further along they struck into the high road again.
"If the stage-coach in any manner resembles the Terror," said the young inventor, as they ran along, "I think I know of a way in which we can substitute this vehicle for it and fool the bandits, should they waylay her."
"Decoy 'em, eh?"
"Yes. We can easily disguise this coach."
"By hitchin' ther stage horses onter it, yer kin do it."
"I'll make the venture anyway, if I can meet the stage."
"When I wuz aboard o' ther frigate Wabash, we once played that ere trick on a pirate," said Tim. "Yer see, it happened—"
But Fritz heard him.
And produced his accordeon.
Its horrible tones rang out.
Tim stopped and was just going to expostulate, when Jack put an end to the playing by saying:
"Stop that, Fritz!"
"But dot yarn—"
"The road agents may hear it."
That settled it; the music ceased.
It made Tim chuckle, and he said:
"Gosh blame yer fat mug, I'll spin ther yarn anyway now! As I wuz a-tellin' yer, we wuz arter a pirate, an' as a passin' ship captain told us he seen ther lubber a-hidin' in a bay, we made up our minds ter disguise ther frigate so's ter haul up inter gun range o' ther lubber. So we sot ter work, an' paintin' her white, we altered her rig, an' bore down on ther bay. In we went, but ther pirate had gone. Whar? Nobody knowed. We was disappinted. Whar wuz we ter look next? No one knowed. So we sailed away. Night fell. We hadn't gone far afore we sighted her ten leagues away ter ther—"
"Say! You can't see thirty miles at night."
"I meant to say three leagues—"
"Nor three leagues—"
"One league then, gosh blame it!"
"That's better."
"Waal, we sighted her b'arin' down on us."
"And then?" asked Jack, smilingly.
Why, we let her git right up ter us, thinkin' she had a easy wictim. Then we turned on her to fire, an' blow her ter pieces. Wot wuz our horror ter find as our powder got so wet we couldn't use it. Bein' as ther guns wuz useless, wot did we do? Perpared ter board ther lubber. Up ter her we dashed. Over flew ther grapplin' irons.
"On her deck swarmed her crew. Down in her hold they chased ther pirates. But that wuz only a ruse on thar part. As soon's our crew went below, up came ther lubbers through ther hatch, an' fastened our marines down in ther hold. They wuz prisoners. I alone wuz lef aboard ther Wabash. Seein' 'em makin' a rush fer our deck I grabbed a ax an' cut ther grapplin's. We drifted apart afore they could board ther frigate. Seein' as all wuz lost onless I licked ther swabs, I manned ther guns an' gave 'em broadside ar ter broadside. I smashed thar ship ter pieces. She went down never ter rise again. Most o' her crew wuz killed. Them wot wuzn't swum on ther sea. Then I amused myself firin' shots at thar heads. I took 'em off as clean as a whistle every time I let 'em have it. In jest four minutes by ther clock they was all gone. Turnin' ter my messmates—"
"Confined in the pirate's hold, they all went to the bottom with the ship," said Jack, quietly.
"I–oh–ouch!"
"The powder was so wet you couldn't use it. But in spite of this you did some remarkably good shooting, didn't you, Tim?"
"Wha'–wha–what d'yer mean?" feebly stammered the old sailor.
"Just what you said," laughed Jack.
"I must a fergot about sayin' that."
"Very likely. Will you acknowledge now that I've got you?"
"Ay, ay. There's no help for it."
"In a big lie?"
"But, my lad—"
"Tell the truth once in your life!"
"Waal, I owns up," groaned Tim.
It was a severe hardship to do it.
But there was no help for him, he realized.
Jack burst into a hearty peal of laughter.
The sheriff and the Dutchman, inside the stage, had heard all that passed, and they fairly yelled over Tim's discomfiture.
"Nipped that time, Tim," laughed Timberlake.
"Shiminey Christmas, ditn'd he got it by der neck!" grinned Fritz.
"Tell as the rest of the yarn, Tim."
"Yah. Ve vos litsten," added Fritz.
"Awast yer lubbers!" growled the old fellow, sourly.
They might have chaffed him considerably more, but just then Jack interrupted them with the startled exclamation:
"Hark, boys!"
"Vos iss?" eagerly asked Fritz.
"Horses' hoofs coming!"
"Ay, ay, I hears 'em!" said Tim.
"There's a wagon, too," the sheriff added.
The sound was rapidly approaching along the road.
All listened intently, and soon distinguished the steady pounding of hoofs and the rumble of wheels.
A few moments later they caught view of two bright lamps on the vehicle, shining ahead, with a steady glow, through the falling rain drops.
"That looks like a stage," muttered Jack, "but we will know positively in a moment more."
THE FIGHT IN THE CANYON.
"Halt! Who goes there?"
"Oh, Lor'! what's this?"
"Is that the Independence stage?"
"Yes. Don't shoot! I cave!"
"Ah! do not alarm yourselves; we are friends."
Jack turned on the search-light as he spoke and beheld four horses pulling an old fashioned yellow stage coach, on each side of which burned two lamps.
Upon the box sat an old jehu, Sandy Ellis by name, who had driven that vehicle for quarter of a century over that route.
He was a gray-whiskered old fellow, with a bony face and a long red nose, and his stage contained half a dozen people, who were excitedly discussing the stoppage and the meaning of that brilliant electric light.
"For the Lord's sake, boy, what's that you've got there–the sun?"
"Only an electric search-light," laughed Jack.
"But where's your team?"
"Don't need any for this electric stage."
"What's that–a sort of a trolley car?"
"Yes, without the overhead pole and wire."
"Thunderation! this beats everything! What do you want?"
"I wish to protect you from the James Boys."
"Say, now, is them varmints around?"
"Laying for this stage,"
"Wow!" gasped Sandy. "That's terrible, so it is!"
Jack gave all hands an account of what happened, and when he finished the stage passengers were in a cold sweat.
They wanted to turn right back.
But Jack wouldn't allow this.
"I ain't sure whether they're ahead or behind us," said he. "At any rate you can't turn back now."
"But they may kill us!" said a fat man in the stage.
"They're bound to rob as anyway," asserted a man with a valise filed with genuine diamond jewelry samples.
"That depends entirely upon all hands present," said Jack. "Are all of you armed?"
Every one but a woman in the stage assented, and Sandy pulled out a big navy revolver from his boot leg, and remarked:
"You can just gamble on it I am."
"Any of you afraid to fight, if it became necessary?"
"I'd rather not if I could avoid It," replied a thin fellow, with a hacking cough. "Fighting isn't my fort."
"Waal, I guess you'll pull a trigger if you saw a gang of masked bandits trying to bore a hole in your head."
"I fancy I would."
"That's settled then. Now you see my stage?"
"Yes, and a queer one she is!" commented Sandy.
"She is bullet proof. I propose that as she is safer than your ramshackle old wooden affair, all hands get inside of her, and let me carry you through."
"But what about my horses?" asked Sandy.
"Hitch them on to this vehicle. Throw those rubbers over my stage to hide her outline. You can also put your lamps on here and drive for us. That will draw the bandits from cover. My friends are all armed and ready to fire the moment they show their noses."
Every one but the lady liked the plan.
She, of course, was averse to fighting of any kind.
As there was no way out of their dilemma, and Jack's offer gave promise of protecting them from robbery and, perhaps, death, every-one got into the Terror.
The lamps and horses were transferred.
"You can leave the stage here," said Jack to Sandy.
"No one will molest it until you return for it to-morrow."
"Are you pretty sure about them there James Boys?"
"Decidedly, or I wouldn't have troubled myself to do this for you," replied Jack.
"Well, it would do no harm, even if we are disappointed about meeting them," said the old driver.
They had been obliged to tie the traces to the Terror, but there was no pull on them as Sandy had only to keep his horses trotting while Jack made the machine run itself.
Owing to the gloom of the night, the rubbers on the body of the Terror, the horses, lamps and driver any one would have imagined it was the regular old stage coach.
The people inside talked in low tones and every man aboard held his weapon ready for use.
Down pattered the rain drops with a monotonous sound, and the hoofs of the four horses splashed up the muddy water from the puddles in the road and beat on the hard ground with the regularity of clockwork.
They rattled along in this manner for quarter of an hour and ran from the regular road into a dark canyon.
Here the walls towered up hundreds of feet.
It was a very gloomy place.
"We must be pretty near the ledge road now, ain't we?" Jack asked.
"Yes; in five minutes this 'ere canyon will swing us out on it," replied Sandy. "That's where we're to look for them, ain't it?"
"Yes–if not sooner—"
"Hark! D'you hear that?"
Jack listened intently.
The wind was howling over the crags.
All the trees and bushes were loudly rustling.
But it was not this that attracted the driver's attention.
Jack quickly caught the sound of pattering hoofs coming toward the vehicle from both sides.
Then a stentorian voice roared out:
"Halt!"
"What–me!" shouted Sandy.
"Yes–you!" came the reply.
And at the same moment Jesse James, mounted on his wonderful coal black steed, Siroc, dashed up beside the stage.
He was followed by his entire band.
Although he and the rest were masked, Jack knew his voice at once, and shrank back to conceal his features in the collar of his rubber coat, which was turned up around his neck.
In a moment the
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