JIM CUMMINGS

OR

THE GREAT ADAMS EXPRESS ROBBERY

With a portrait of the notorious Jim Cummings andillustrations of scenes connected with the great robbery

By Frank Pinkerton

Vol. I, March 1887. The Pinkerton Detective Series, issued monthly, by subscription, $3. 00 per annum. 

Chicago

CHAPTER I. 

THE CONSPIRATORS--THE FORGED LETTER--THE PLAN. 

In the rear room of a small frame building, the front of which wasoccupied as a coal office, located on West Lake street, Chicago, threemen were seated around a square pine table. The curtains of the windowwere not only drawn inside, but the heavy shutters were closed on theoutside. A blanket was nailed over the only door of the room, and everything and every action showed that great secrecy was a most importantfactor of the assembly. 

The large argand burner of a student's lamp filled the small room withits white, strong light, The table was covered with railroad time-tables, maps, bits of paper, on which were written two names a greatnumber of times, and pens of different makes and widths of point werescattered amidst the papers, One man, a large, powerfully-built fellow, deep-chested, and long-limbed, was occupied in writing, again and again, the name of "J. B. Barrett. " He had covered sheet after sheet with the name, looking firstat a letter before him, but was still far from satisfied. "Damn a manwho will make his 'J's' in such a heathenish way. "

"Try it again, Wittrock, " said one of his companions. 

"Curse you, " shouted the man called Wittrock. "How often must I tell younot to call me that name. By God, I'll bore a hole through you yet, d'yemind, now. "

"Oh, no harm been done, Cummings; no need of your flying in such a stewfor nothing. We're all in the same box here, eh?"

"Well, you be more careful hereafter, " said "Cummings, " and again hebent to his laborious task of forging the name of "J. B. Barrett. "

Nothing was heard for half an hour but the scratching of the pen, or themuttered curses of Cummings (as he was called). 

Suddenly he threw down his pen with a laugh of triumph, and holding apiece of paper before him, exclaimed: "There, lads, there it is; there'sthe key that will unlock a little mint for us. "

Throwing himself back in his chair, he drew a cigar from his pocket, and, lighting it, listened with great satisfaction to the words ofpraise uttered by his companions as they compared the forged with thegenuine signature. 

These three men were on the eve of a desperate enterprise. For monthsthey had been planning and working together, and the time for action wasrapidly approaching. 

The one called "Cummings, " the leader, was apparently, the youngest oneof the three. There was nothing in his face to denote the criminal. Astranger looking at him, would imagine him to be a good-natured, jovialchap, a little shrewd perhaps, but fond of a good dinner, a good drink, a good cigar, and nothing else. 

One of his colleagues, whom he called "Roe, " evidently an alias, wassmaller in size, but had a determined expression on his face, thatshowed him to be a man who would take a desperate chance if necessary. 

The third man, called sometimes Weaver, and sometimes Williams, was thesmallest one of the conspirators, and also the eldest. His frame, thoughsmall, was compact and muscular, but his face lacked both thedetermination of Roe and the frank, open expression of Cummings. 

After scrutinizing the forgery for a time, Roe returned it to Cummingsand said, "Jim, who has the run out on the Frisco when you make theplant?"

"A fellow named Fotheringham, a big chap, too. I was going to lay forthe other messenger, Hart, who is a small man, and could be easilyhandled, but he has the day run now. "

"This Fotheringham will have to be a dandy if he can tell whetherBarrett has written this or not, eh, Jim?"

"Aye, that he will. Let me once get in that car, and if the letter don'twork, I'll give him a taste of the barker. "

"No shooting, Jim, no shooting, I swear to God I'll back out if youspill a drop of blood. "

Jim's eyes glittered, and he hissed between his teeth:

"You back out, Roe, and you'll see some shooting. "

Roe laughed a nervous laugh, and said, as he pushed some blank letter-heads toward Cummings, "Who's goin' to back out, only I don't like theidea of shooting a man, even to get the plunder. Here's the Adam'sExpress letter-heads I got to-day. Try your hand on the letter. "

Cummings, somewhat pacified, with careful and laborious strokes of thepen, wrote as follows:

"SPRINGFIELD, Mo. , October 24th, '86. 

MESSENGER, TRAIN No. 3, ST. L & ST. F. RTE:

DR. SIR: You will let the bearer, John Broson, Ride in your car toPeirce, and give him all the Instructions that you can. Yours, J. B. Barrett, R. A. "

"Hit it the first time. Look at that Roe; cast your eye on that elegantbit of literature, Weaver, " and Cummings, greatly excited, paced up anddown the room, whistling, and indulging in other signs of hugegratification. 

"Well done, Jim, well done. Now write the other one, and we'll go andlicker up. "

Again Cummings picked up his facile pen, and was soon successful inwriting the following letter, purporting to be from this same J. B. Barrett. 

"SPRINGFIELD, Mo. , Oct. 21, '86. 

"JOHN BRONSON, Esq. , St. Louis, Mo. 

"DR. SIR: Come at once to Peirce City by train No. 3, leaving St. Louis8:25 p. M. Inclosed find note to messenger on the train, which you canuse for a pass in case you see Mr. Damsel in time. Agent at Peirce Citywill instruct you further. 

"Respectfully, J. B. BARRETT, R. A. "

Jim drew a long, deep sigh of relief as he muttered:

"Half the work is done; half the work is done. "

Drawing the railroad map of the Chicago & Alton road toward him, he putthe pen point on St. Louis, and slowing following the St. L. & S. F. Division, paused at Kirkwood. 

"Roe, here's the place I shall tackle this messenger. It is rather closeto St. Louis, but it's down grade and the train will be making fasttime. She stops at Pacific--here, and we will jump the train there, strike for the river, and paddle down to the K. & S. W. You must jump onat the crossing near the limits, plug the bell cord so the damnedmessenger can't pull the rope on me, and I will have him foul. "

Roe listened attentively to these instructions, nodding his head slowlyseveral times to express his approval, and said:

"When will we go down?"

Jim Cummings, looking at the time-table, answered:

"This is--what date is this, Weaver?"

"October 11th. "

"Two weeks from to-day will be the 25th. That is on--let's see, that isTuesday. "

"Two weeks from to-day, Roe, you will have to take the train at St. Louis; get your ticket to Kirkwood. I see by this time-table that No. 3does stop there. When you get off, run ahead, plug the bell-cord, and Iwill wait till she gets up speed after leaving Kirkwood before I draw mydeposit. "

Thus did these three men plan a robbery that was to mulet the AdamsExpress Company of $100, 000, baffle the renowned Pinkertons for weeksand excite universal admiration for its boldness, skill, andcompleteness. 

The papers upon which Cummings had exercised his skill, were torn intolittle bits, the time-tables and maps were folded and placed in coatpockets, the lamp extinguished, and three men were soon strolling downLake street as calmly as if they had no other object than to saunterinto their favorite bar-room, and toss off a social drink or two. 

CHAPTER II. 

THE SUCCESS OF THE LETTERS--THE ATTACK--THE ROBBERS--THE ESCAPE. 

The Union depot at St. Louis was ablaze with lights. The long KansasCity train was standing, all made up, the engine coupled on, and almostready to pull out. Belated passengers were rushing frantically from theticket window to the baggage-room, and then to the train, when a man, wearing side whiskers, and carrying a small valise, parted from hiscompanion at the entrance to the depot, and, after buying a ticket toKirkwood, entered the smoking car. His companion, a tall, well-builtman, having a smooth face, and a very erect carriage, walked with abusiness-like step down the platform until he reached the express car. Tossing the valise which he carried into the car, he climbed in himselfwith the aid of the hand-rail on the side of the door, and, as themessenger came toward him, he held out his hand, saying:

"Is this Mr. Fotheringham?"

"Yes, that's my name. "

"I have a letter from Mr. Bassett for you, " and, taking it from hispocket, he handed it to the messenger. 

Fotheringham read the letter carefully, and placing it in his pocket, said:

"Going to get a job, eh?"

"Yes, the old man said he would give me a show, and as soon as there wasa regular run open, he would let me have it. "

"Well, I'm pretty busy now; make yourself comfortable until we pull out, and then I'll post you up as best I can, Mr. Bronson. "

Mr. "Bronson" pulled off his overcoat, and, seating himself in a chair, glanced around the car. 

In one end packages, crates, butter, egg-cases, and parts of machinerywere piled up. At the other end a small iron safe was lying. As itcaught Bronson's eye an expression came over his face, which, ifFotheringham had seen, would have saved him a vast amount of trouble. But the messenger, too busy to notice his visitor, paid him noattention, and in a moment Bronson was puffing his cigar with anonchalant air, that would disarm any suspicions which the messengermight have entertained, but he had none, as it was a common practice tosend new men over his run, that he might "break them in. "

The train had pulled out, and after passing the city limits, was flyingthrough the suburbs at full speed. 

Fotheringham, seated in front of his safe, with his way bills on hislap, was checking them off as Bronson called off each item of freight inthe car. 

The long shriek of the whistle and the jerking of the car caused by thetightening of the air brake on the wheels, showed the train to beapproaching a station. 

"This is Kirkwood, " said Fotheringham, "nothing for them to-night. "

The train was almost at a standstill, when Bronson, saying "What sort ofa place is it?" threw back the door and peered out into the dark. 

As he did so, a man passed swiftly by, and in passing glanced into thecar. As Bronson looked, he saw it was the same man that had bought aticket for Kirkwood and had ridden in the smoker. 

The train moved on. Bronson shut the door and buttoned his coat. Fotheringham, still busy on his way bills, was whistling softly tohimself, and sitting with his back to his fellow passenger. 

Some unusual noise in the front end of the car caught his ear, andraising his head, he exclaimed:

"What's that?"

The answer came, not from the front of the car but from behind. 

A strong muscular hand was placed on his neck. A brawny arm was thrownaround his chest, and lifted from the chair, he was thrown violently tothe floor of the car. 

In a flash he realized his position. With an almost superhuman effort, he threw Bronson from him, and reaching around felt for his revolver. Itwas gone, and thrown to the other end of the car. 

Little did the passengers on the train know of the stirring drama whichwas being enacted in the car before them. Little did they think as theyleaned back in their comfortable seats, of the terrific struggle whichwas then taking place. On one hand it was a struggle for $100, 000; onthe other, for reputation, for honor, perhaps for life. 

Fotheringham, strong as he vas (for he was large of frame, and muscular)was no match for his assailant. He struggled manfully, but was hurledagain to the floor, and as he looked up, saw the cold barrel of a 32-calibre pointed at his head. Bronson's face, distorted with passion andstern with the fight, glared down at him, as he hissed through histeeth:

"Make a sound, and you are a dead man. "

The messenger, seeing all was lost, lay passive upon the floor. Therobber, whipping out a long, strong, silk handkerchief, tied his handsbehind his back, and making a double-knotted gag of Fotheringham'shandkerchief, gagged him. Searching the car he discovered a shawl-strapwith which he tied the messenger's feet, and thus had him powerless as alog. Then, and not till then, did he speak aloud. 

"Done, and well done, too. "

The flush faded from his face, his eye became sullen, and drawing themessenger's chair to him he sat down. As he gazed at his discomfitedprisoner an expression of intense relief came over his features. Hisforged letters had proved successful, his only formidable obstaclebetween himself and his anticipated booty lay stretched at his feet, helpless and harmless. The nature of the car prevented any interruptionfrom the ends, as the only entrance was through the side doors, and hehad all night before him to escape. 

Now for the plunder. The key to the safe was in Fotheringham's pocket. It took but a second to secure it, and but another second to use it inunlocking the strong-box. The messenger, unable to prevent this in anyway, looked on in intense mental agony. He saw that he would besuspected as an accomplice. The mere fact that one man could disarm, bind and gag him, would be used as a suspicious circumstance againsthim. Although he did not know the exact sum of money in the safe he wasaware that it was of a very considerable amount, and he fairly writhedin his agony of mind. In an instant Cummings (or, as he had been calledby the messenger, Bronson) was on his feet, revolver in hand, and againthe cruel, murderous expression dwelt on his face, as he exclaimed:

"Lie still, damn you, lie still. If you attempt to create an alarm, I'llfill you so full of lead that some tenderfoot will locate you for amineral claim. D'ye understand?"

After this facetious threat he paid no further attention to themessenger. 

Emptying his valise of its contents of underclothing and linen, hestuffed it full of the packages of currency which the safe contained. 

One package, containing $30, 000, from the Continental Bank of St. Louis, was consigned to the American National Bank of Kansas City. Anotherlarge package held $12, 000, from the Merchants National Bank of St. Louis for the Merchants Bank of Forth Smith, Arkansas, and various otherpackages, amounting altogether to $53, 000. 

With wonderful sang froid, Cummings stuffed this valuable booty in hisvalise, and then proceeded to open the bags containing coin. His keenknife-blade ripped bag after bag, but finding it all silver, hedesisted, and turning to Fotheringham, demanded:

"Any gold aboard?"

Fotheringham shook his head in reply. 

"Does that mean there is none, or you don't know?"

Again the messenger shook his head. 

"Well, I reckon your right, all silver, too heavy and don't amount tomuch. "

As he was talking, the whistle of the engine suddenly sound two shortnotes, and the air-brakes were applied. 

The train stopped, and the noise of men walking on the gravel was heard. 

As Fotheringham lay there, his ears strained to catch every sound, andhoping for the help that never came, his heart gave a joyful throb, assome one pounded noisily on the door. Almost at the same instant he feltthe cold muzzle of a revolver against his head, and the ominous "click, click" was more eloquent than threats or words could be. 

The pounding ceased, and in a short time the train moved on again. 

Apparently not satisfied that the messenger was bound safe and fast, Cummings took the companion strap to the one which pinioned the feet ofhis victim, and passing it around his neck, fastened it to the handle ofthe safe in such a way that any extra exertion on Fotheringham's partwould pull the safe over and choke him. 

Opening the car door, he threw away the clothing which he had taken fromhis valise. 

Returning to the messenger, he stooped over him, and took from hispocket the forged letter with which he gained entrance to the car. 

Fotheringham tried to speak, but the gag permitted nothing but arattling sound to escape. 

"I know what you want, young fellow. You want this letter to prove thatyou had some sort of authority to let me ride. Sorry I can't accommodateyou, my son, but those devilish Pinkertons will be after me in twenty-four hours, and this letter would be just meat to them. I'll fix you allright, though. My name's Cummings, Jim Cummings, and I'll write a letterto the St. Louis Globe-Democrat that will clear you Honest to God, Iwill. You've been pretty generous to-night; given me lots of swag, andI'll never go back on you. 

"Give my love to Billy Pinkerton when you see him. Tell him Jim Cummingsdid this job. "

As he uttered these words, the train commenced slacking up, and as itstopped, Cummings, opening the door, with his valuable valise, leaped tothe ground, closed the door behind him, the darkness closed around himand he was gone. 

Inside the car, a rifled safe, a bound and gagged messenger, and theAdams Express Company was poorer by $100, 000 than it was when the'Frisco train pulled out of the depot the evening before. 

CHAPTER III. 

PINKERTON TO THE RESCUE. 

The next day the country knew of the robbery. Newspapers in every cityhad huge head lines, telling the story in the most graphic style. 

JESSE JAMES OUTDONE! The Adams Express Company ROBBED OF $100, 000!

THE EXPRESS MESSENGER FOUND GAGGED AND BOUND TO HIS OWN SAFE--THE ROBBERESCAPES--ABSOLUTELY NO CLEWS--PINKERTON TO THE RESCUE!

Mr. Damsel, the superintendent of the St. Louis branch of the AdamsExpress Company, was pacing anxiously up and down his private office. Fotheringham was relating his exciting experience, which a stenographerimmediately took down in shorthand. At frequent intervals Mr. Damselwould ask a searching question, to which the messenger replied in astraightforward manner and without hesitation. It was a trying ordeal tohim. Innocent as he was, his own testimony was against him. He knew itand felt it, but nothing that he could do or say would lighten theweight of the damaging evidence. He could but tell the facts and awaitdevelopments. When he was through Mr. Damsel left him in the office, andimmediately telegraphed to every station between Pacific and St. Louisto look for the linen and underclothing which the robbers had thrownfrom the car. The wires were working in all directions, giving a fulldescription of Cummings and such other information as would lead to hisdiscovery. 

Local detectives were closeted with Mr. Damsel all day, but so shrewdlyand cunningly had the express robber covered his tracks, that nothingbut the bare description of the man could be used as a clew. 

Fotheringham was put through the "sweating process" time and again, but, though he gave the most minute and detailed account of the affair, thedetectives could find nothing to help them. 

That Fotheringham "stood in" with the robber was the universal theory. The story of the letter and order from Mr. Barrett was received withderision and suspicion. 

Mr. Damsel himself was almost confident that his employee had a hand inthe robbery. It was a long and anxious day, and as it wore along and nonew developments turned up, Mr. Damsel became more anxious and troubled:$100, 000 is a large sum and the Adams Express Company had a reputationat stake. What was to be done?

Almost instantly the answer came: telegraph for Pinkerton. 

The telegram was sent, and when William Pinkerton wired back that hewould come at once. Mr. Damsel felt his load of responsibility begin togrow lighter, and he waited impatiently for the morning to come. 

The next morning about 10 o'clock Mr. Damsel received a note, signed"Pinkerton, " requesting him to call at room 84 of the Southern Hotel. Hewent at once. A pleasant-faced gentleman, with a heavy mustache and keeneyes, greeted him, and Mr. Damsel was shaking hands with the famousdetective, on whose shoulders had fallen the mantle of his father, AllanPinkerton, probably the finest detective the world has ever seen. 

Mr. Damsel had his stenographer's notes, which had been transcribed onthe type-writer, and Mr. Pinkerton carefully and slowly read every word. 

"What sort of a man is this Fotheringham?"

"He is a large, well built, and I should say, muscular young fellow. Hasalways been reliable before, and has been with us some years. "

"Has he ever been arrested before?"

"He says twice. Once for shooting off a gun on Sunday, and again forknocking a man down for insulting a lady. "

"You think he is guilty--that is, you think he had a hand in therobbery?"

"Mr. Pinkerton, I regret to say I do. It doesn't seem probable that astrong, hearty man would allow another man to disarm him, gag him, tiehim hand and foot, get away with $100, 000, and all that without adesperate struggle, and he hasn't the sign of a scratch or bruise onhim. "

"N-n-no, it doesn't. Still it could be done. You have him under arrest, then. "

"Not exactly. He is in my office now, and apparently has no thought oftrying to escape. "

"Well, Mr. Damsel, I am inclined to think that this man Fotheringhamknows no more of this robbery than he has told you. If he is incollusion with the robber, or robbers--for I think that more than onehad to do with it--he would have made up a story in which two or morehad attacked him. He would have had a cut in the arm, a bruised head orsome such corroborating testimony to show. The fact that he was held upby a single man goes a good way, in my judgment, to prove him innocentof any criminal connection with the robbery. We must look elsewhere forthe culprits. "

"Had you not better see Fotheringham?"

"Of course I intend doing that. Did you secure the clothing which thisso-called Cummings threw out of the train?"

"Telegrams have been sent out, and I hope to have it sent in by to-morrow. "

"That is good--we may find something which we can grasp. The publicgenerally have an idea that a detective can make something out ofnothing that the merest film of a clew is all that is necessary withwhich to build up a strong substantial edifice of facts. It is only theMessieurs La Coqs and 'Old Sleuths' of books and illustrated weekliesthat are possessed with the second sight, and can hunt down theshrewdest criminals, without being bound to such petty things as clews, circumstantial evidence or witnesses. We American detectives cangenerally make 4 by putting 2 and 2 together, but we must have astarting point, and an old shirt or a pair of stockings, such as thisrobber threw away, may contain just what we need. "

A knock on the door, and an employee of the office entered. 

"Mr. Damsel, the entire road has been carefully searched, and no traceof the clothing can be found. "

"That's bad, " said Mr. Pinkerton, "we should have found that. "

Mr. Damsel bade the employee to return to the office, and turning to Mr. Pinkerton, said:

"The case is in your hands. Do what you want, if any man can run thatCummings down, you can. "

"Well, I'll take it. I should advise you first to have Fotheringhamarrested as an accomplice. While I do not think he is one, he may be; atany rate it will lead the principals in the case to believe we are onthe wrong track, but I must confess there don't seem to be any track atall, wrong or right. "

"I will do that. I will swear out a warrant to-day against him. "

Mr. Damsel took his leave, and that night Fotheringham slept behind ironbars. 

CHAPTER IV. 

THE DETECTIVE AND THE MESSENGER. 

After Mr. Damsel had left the hotel, Mr. Pinkerton sat in deep thought. He had carefully re-read Fotheringham's statement, but could findnothing that could be put out as a tracer; no little straw to tell whichway the wind was blowing. 

"Cummings, Cummings, Jim Cummings. By George, that can't be the JimCummings that used to flock with the Jesse James gang. That Cummings wasa gray-haired man, while this Cummings is young, about 26 years old. Besides he is a much larger than Jesse James' Jim Cummings. That name isevidently assumed. 

"This statement says he was dressed in a good suit of clothes, and worea very flashy cravat. Furthermore, he bragged a good deal about what hewould do with the money. Also that he would write a letter to the St. Louis Globe-Democrat exonerating the messenger. Well, a man who willbrag like that, and wears flashy articles of neck-wear, is just the manthat will talk too much, or make some bad break. If he writes thatletter, he's a goner. There will be something in it that will give me ahold. The paper, the ink, the hand-writing, the place and time it wasmailed--something that will give him away, "

"I must see this messenger, and I must see him here; alone. He may beable to give me a little glimmer of light. "

To think with "Billy" Pinkerton was to act. 

He pressed the annunciator button, and sitting down, wrote a short noteto Mr. Damsel, requesting him to bring Fotheringham with him to hisroom. 

The bell-boy who answered the call bore the note away with him, and in ashort time, Mr. Pinkerton, looking out of his window, saw Mr. Damsel inhis buggy drive up to the hotel accompanied by a young man, whom Mr. Pinkerton recognized from the description given him, as the unfortunateFotheringham, who had evidently, as yet, not been arrested. 

It took but a few moments for Mr. Damsel to reach Room 84, and afterintroducing Fotheringham to the detective, left him there. 

Fotheringham wore a worried and hunted look. The black rings under hiseyes told of loss of sleep, and his whole demeanor was that of adiscouraged person. Still he bore the keen scrutiny of the detectivewithout flinching, and looking him squarely in the eye, said:

"Mr. Pinkerton, don't ask me to repeat my story again. I have told ittime after time. I have been cross-questioned, and turned and twisteduntil I almost believe I committed the robbery myself, tied my own handsand feet, put the gag in my own mouth, and hid the money some place. "

Mr. Pinkerton did not answer him, but gazing at him with those sharp, far-seeing eyes, which had ferreted out so many crimes, and had made somany criminals tremble, took in every detail of Fotheringham's features, as if reading his very soul. Fotheringham leaned back, closed his eyeswearily, as if it were a matter of the smallest consequence what mightoccur, and remained in that position until Mr. Pinkerton spoke. 

"Mr. Fotheringham, I don't believe you had anything to do with therobbery, except being robbed. "

"Thank God for those words, Mr. Pinkerton, " exclaimed the messenger inbroken tones, the tears welling to his eyes. "That's the first bit ofcomfort I've had since the dastardly villain first knocked me down. "

"Can you not give me some peculiarity which you noticed about thisCummings? How did he talk?"

"Slowly, with a very pleasant voice. "

"Did he have any marks about him--any scars?"

Fotheringham sat in deep thought for a while. 

"He had a triangular gold filling on one of his front teeth, and he hada way of hanging his head a little to one side, as if he were deaf, butI did not see any scars, excepting a bit of court-plaster on one of thefingers of his right hand. "

"Was he disguised at all?"

"Not a bit, at least I could see no disguise on him. "

"How did he walk?"

"Very erect, and, yes, I noticed he limped a little, as if he had a sorefoot. "

"I see by this report, " taking up the papers Mr. Damsel had left, "thatyou have given a very close and full description of his appearance, butthat amounts to little. Disguises are easy, and the mere changing ofclothing will effect a great difference. "

"I am positive, from his features, that he was a hard drinker. He hadbeen drinking before he came to the car, as I smelled it on his breath. "

"Well, Mr. Fotheringham, I will not detain you any longer. If you areinnocent, you know you have nothing to fear. "

"Except the disgrace of being arrested. "

"Possibly, " said Mr. Pinkerton, shortly, and bowing his visitor out, hepondered long and deeply over the case; but he felt he was groping inthe dark, for the robber had apparently left no trace behind him. He hadappeared on the scene, done his work, and the dark shadows of the nighthad swallowed him up, and Mr. Pinkerton, for the time, was completelybaffled. 

"If he would only write that letter, " he muttered, "and I believe hewill--"

A tap at the door followed these words, and two men entered--bothPinkerton detectives. 

One of them carried a bundle in his arms. 

As Mr. Pinkerton caught sight of it, his face lightened up. 

"Ah! You did get it?"

"Yes; found them in a ditch the other side of Kirkwood. "

Mr. Pinkerton laughed, and taking the bundle, said:

"Mr. Damsel said they could not be found; but I knew you, Chip. It was agood move on your part to go after these clothes without waiting fororders. You are starting in well, my boy, and if you have the making ofa detective in you, this case will bring it out. "

Chip blushed. Such words of praise from his superior were worth workingfor. The youngest man on the force, he had his spurs to win, and theapprobation of his chief was reward enough. 

The bundle was untied, and disclosed a shirt, a pair of drawers, socksand a dirty handkerchief. As the clothing fell on the floor, the odor ofsome sort of liniment filled the room, and on the leg of the drawers, below the knee, a stain was seen. Examining it more closely, a littleclotted blood was seen. The stain extended half way around the leg, andshowed that the cut or bruise was quite an extensive one. 

"No wonder he limped, " said Mr. Pinkerton, as he dropped the drawers andpicked up the handkerchief. 

The handkerchief, a common linen one, had evidently been used as abandage, for it was stained with the liniment, and covered with bloodclots. In one corner had been written a name, but the only letters nowreadable were "W--r--k. "

This was placed on the table and the shirt carefully examined. 

Nothing, not even the maker's name, could be seen. It was a cheap shirt, such as could be bought at any store which labels everything belongingto a man as "Gents' Furnishing. " The socks were common, and likethousands of similar socks. 

"Not much of a find, Chip--the letters on the handkerchief can be foundin a hundred different names--a sore knee is covered by a pair oftrousers, and one out of every ten men you meet, limps. "

The other detective, who had all this time been silent, now laid someAdams Express letter-heads on the table. On these were written "J. B. Barrett, " in all forms of chirography--several sheets were covered withthe name. 

"Where did you get these?"

"Out of Fotheringham's trunk, in his room. "

"By Jove, what a consummate actor that man is. Do you know, boys, up tothis minute, I firmly believed that messenger was innocent--I have beensold like an ordinary fool, " and Mr. Pinkerton looked at the tell-talepapers admiringly, for, although he felt a trifle chagrined at beingtaken in so nicely, he could not but pay tribute to the man who did it, for the man that could get the better of "Billy" Pinkerton, must be oneof extraordinary ability. 

"If you please, " said Chip, "I do not see that the mere finding of thispaper in Fotheringham's trunk should fasten suspicion on him. If he wasshrewd enough to capture the money, he would certainly not leave suchdamaging evidence as this paper would be. It seems to me that it wouldbe a very plausible theory to advance, that the real robbers placed thisin his trunk to direct suspicion against him. In fact, it was the firstthing to be seen when the lid was lifted, for I was with Barney when hesearched the room. "

Barney said nothing to his companion's remarks, but nodded his head toshow that he acquiesced. 

Mr. Pinkerton listened carefully, and merely saying, "we'll look at thislater, " gave a very careful and complete description of Cummings, whichhe directed Chip and Barney to take to the St. Louis branch of thisfirm, and from there send it through all the divisions and sub-divisionsof this vast detective cob-web. 

After issuing further and more orders relating to the case in hand, heput on his hat, and descended to the hotel office, followed by his twosubordinates. 

After the exciting episode in the express car had been brought to aclose by Jim Cummings leaping from the car, the train moved on, and lefthim alone, the possessor of nearly $100, 000. The game had been adesperate one, and well played, and nervy and cool as he was, thedesperado was forced to seat himself on a pile of railroad ties, untilhe could regain possession of himself, for he trembled in every limb, and shook as with a chill. He pulled himself together, however, andpicking up his valise, with its valuable contents, turned toward theriver. 

He stepped from tie to tie, feeling his way in the darkness, every senseon the alert, and straining his eyes to catch a glimpse of somelandmark. He had walked nearly a mile when, from behind a pile of brushheaped up near the track, a man stepped forth. The double click of arevolver was heard, and in an imperative tone, the unknown man calledout:

"Halt! Put your hands above your head. I've got the drop on you!"

Startled as he was by the sudden appearance of the man, and hardlyrecovered from his hard fight with the messenger, Cummings was too braveand too daring to yield so tamely. Dropping his valise, he sprang uponthe audacious stranger so suddenly that he was taken completely bysurprise. The sharp report of the revolver rang out upon the quietnight, and the two men, Cummings uppermost, fell upon the grading of theroad. The men were very evenly matched, and the fortunes of war waveredfrom one to the other. The hoarse breathing, the muttered curses, andsavage blows told that a desperate conflict was taking place. Clasped ineach other's embrace, the men lay, side by side, neither able to gainthe mastery. Far around the curve the rumbling of an approaching freighttrain was heard. Nearer and nearer it came, and still the men fought on. With a grip of iron Cummings held the stranger's throat to the rail, andwith arms of steel clasped around Cummings, his assailant pressed him tothe ground. 

It was an even thing, a fair field and no favor, when the sudden flashof the headlight of the approaching engine, as it shot around the curve, caused both men to lose their hold and spring from the track. Thestrong, clear light flooded both with its brilliancy, and in thatinstant mutual recognition took place. 

"Wittrock!"

"Moriarity!"

The train swept by, and the darkness again settled around the latecombatants. 

Cummings was the first to speak. 

"How the devil did you get here, Dan?"

"Just what I was going to ask you, Fred. "

"Then you didn't get my letter?"

"What letter. "

"I wrote you from Chicago, to be on hand at the 'plant' to-night. "

"Did you send it to Leavenworth?"

"Yes. "

"I am on my way there now. Got busted in St, Louis, couldn't make araise, and I commenced to count ties for Leavenworth. "

"Yes, then you took me for some jay, and tried to hold me up. It's luckyI met you, I need you. "

"Any money in it?"

"Slathers of it. "

"What's your lay?"

Cummings hesitated a minute before replying, and then said:

"Dan! you went back on me once, I don't know that I can trust you, youare too--"

"Trust me! You give Dan Moriarity a chance to cover some tin, and he'syours, body and soul. "

"What's your price to help me, and keep your mouth shut?"

"$2, 000. "

"It's a go, " and Cummings held out his hand. 

The compact was thus sealed, and lighting a match, Cummings commenced tolook for his valise. 

It had, fortunately, fallen outside the rails, and picking it up, Cummings led the way, followed by the somewhat surprised and still morecurious Moriarity. 

At this point on the Missouri river, the bluffs rise abruptly from thebanks. The railroad, winding around the curves, was literally hewn fromthe solid rock. Deep gullies and ravines, starting from the water, Intersected all portions of the country, and the thick underbrush madethis place a safe and secure hiding-place for fugitives from justice, river pirates and moonshiners. 

Cummings, at a point where one of these gullies branched off from therailroad, turned into it, and with confident steps, followed closely byMoriarity, scaled the rocky precipice. Half way up the toilsome ascent, he halted, and placing his fingers in his mouth, gave three shrillwhistles. Two short, and one long drawn sounds. 

It was immediately answered; and in an instant, a flaming torch spranginto view, and almost as quickly was extinguished. 

A short climb, and turning sharply to the right, Cummings again stopped. The signal, repeated softly, was answered by a voice asking:

"Who comes there?"

To which Cummings replied:

"It is I, be not afraid, " at the same time poking Moriarity in the ribs, and chuckling:

"I haven't forgotten my Bible yet, eh, Dan?"

A blanket was lifted to one side, and disclosed to view the entrance toa natural cave, into the wall of which was stuck a naming, pitch-pineknot. Entering, the blanket was dropped, and preceded by a man, whosefeatures the fitful glare of the torch failed to reveal, the twoadventurers were ushered into the main portion of the cavern. 

In one corner the copper kettle and coiled worm of a whisky still toldit was the abode of an illicit distiller, or a "moonshiner. "

A large fire cast a ruddy glow over the cave, and blankets and cookingutensils were scattered about. As the guide stepped into the light, heturned around, his eyes first falling on the well-stuffed valise andthen upon Cummings' face, which wore such an expression of success andsatisfaction that he exclaimed, as he held out his hand:

"By the ghost of Jesse James, you did it, old man. "

"This looks like it, don't it?" said the successful express-car robber, holding his valise to the light. "Don't you know this man, Haight?"

"Damme, if it isn't Dan Moriarity. "

"The same old penny--Haight, " and Moriarity clasped his hand. 

Haight, as host, did the honors. An empty flour barrel, covered by asquare board, made an acceptable table. Small whisky barrels did duty aschairs, and a substantial repast of boiled fish, partridges and graysquirrels, supplemented with steaming glasses of hot toddy, satisfiedthe inner man, and, for a time, caused them to forget the exciting trainof events through which they had just passed. 

After their hunger had been appeased pipes were lit, and the fragrantglass of spirits, filled to the brim, were placed conveniently andseductively near at hand. 

Cummings then related, in detail, his night's exploit and ended byopening the valise and taking out the packages of currency which itcontained. It was a strange picture to gaze upon. The fire-lit cave, shrouded outside with mystery and darkness, but its heart alive withlight and warmth; the rude appliances and paraphernalia for distillingthe contraband "mountain dew"; the floor strewn with blankets, cooking-tins, a rifle or two, and provisions, while, bathed in the warm glow ofthe cheerful fire, secure from pursuit and comfortably housed from theweather, the three men, with greedy eyes, drank in the enchanting visionof luxurious wealth, which lay, bound in its neat wrappers, upon thefloor of the cave. 

Not one of these men could be classed with professional criminals, Moriarity, perhaps, had several times done some "fine work, " but wasunknown in the strata of crime, and was never seen in the society of"experts. "

His attack upon Cummings could be called his debut, just as Cummings'late success could be looked on as his first definite step within theportals of outlawry and crime. Haight, as an accessory to the robbery, had hardly taken his first plunge. Some time before this these same men, with others, had planned an extensive robbery on the same line, butMoriarity weakened at the last moment and the whole thing fell through. It was this incident which caused Cummings to doubt his trustworthiness. Still Moriarity had a certain amount of bull courage, of which Cummingswas aware, and if his palm was but crossed by the almighty dollar hewould be a valuable ally. For this reason Cummings had taken him againinto his confidence. 

For some moments the three men sat silently puffing their pipes andpicturing the delight of spending their ill-gotten booty, when Cummings, rising from his seat, placed the money on the table and cut the stringswhich bound it together. 

A hasty count revealed $53, 000 in currency and about $40, 000 in bonds, mortgage deeds, and other unconvertible valuables. 

He had evidently fully considered his plans, and without any previousbeating around the bush, proceeded to execute them. 

Opening a package of smaller bills he divided it into three parts, giving Haight and Moriarity each a share. The remainder of the plunderhe again divided into three portions, and taking the larger one forhimself, proceeded to wrap it and tie it securely; his companions, taking their cue from him, doing likewise. 

"Boys, " he then said, "as soon as the robbery is discovered the companywill turn hell itself upside down to find it. Pinkerton will be on ourtrail in forty-eight hours. The first thing they will do will be tosuspect the messenger. He will be arrested, and while they are monkeyingwith him we must get out of the way. I told the poor devil I would writea letter to some paper, I think I said the Globe-Democrat, which wouldclear him, but we must make ourselves safe first. 

"Dan, you must get to Leavenworth, find Cook, and have him plant whatyou have. Haight will go to Chicago and know what to do, while I--well--I am going south for my health. "

Stopping abruptly he drew his revolver, and stepping up to Moriarity, placed the cold muzzle to his temple. His eyes, cold as steel and sharpas an arrow, were fastened upon Dan's very heart, and speaking withterrible earnestness, he said:

"Dan Moriarity, if ever you break faith with me, I'll kill you like acur, so help me God!"

Moriarity stood the ordeal without flinching, and holding his right handabove his head, took a solemn oath never to betray, by word or deed, thetrust which had been placed in him. 

Without another word each man carefully placed his particular chargesecurely about his person. Every scrap of paper was gathered up, and, after extinguishing the fire, the three men left the cave, and in thedawn of the early morning descended to the railroad track. 

Hands were shaken, the last words of advice given, and Cummings plungedinto the labyrinth of gullies and underbrush, leaving his companionseach to pursue his own way, Moriarity going west, while Haight, goingeast, sprang the fence, and entering a thick patch of bushes, broughtout a horse, saddled and bridled. Mounting this he struck into a quickcanter across the country toward St. Louis. 

CHAPTER V. 

THE FIRST CLEW FOUND. 

Mr. Pinkerton had passed an anxious week, Never before had he been socompletely baffled. The finding of the letter-heads with Bartlett's namewritten on them in Fotheringham's trunk had quite upset his theories. Yet the most searching examination could find nothing in the suspectedmessenger's previous movements, upon which to fasten any connection withthe robbery. 

The vast machinery of Pinkerton's Detective Agency was at work all overthe country. His brightest and keenest operatives had been broughttogether in St. Louis, Kansas City, Leavenworth and Chicago. False clewswere sprung every day, and run down to a disappointed termination. Butall to no purpose. Outwitted and baffled, Mr. Pinkerton was treading hisapartment at the Southern Hotel with impatient steps; his brow waswrinkled with thought and his eyes heavy with loss of sleep. In his vastand varied experience with criminals he had never yet met one who had socompletely covered his tracks as this same Jim Cummings. Of one thing hewas satisfied, however, and that was, that no professional criminal hadcommitted the robbery, and again that two or more men were concerned init. 

In Fotheringham's description of the robbery, he had mentioned hearingan unusual noise in the fore part of the car, as if some one weretapping on the partition, and on examining the car, the bell-cord wasfound to be plugged. This showed an accomplice, or perhaps more thanone. 

That it was not done by a professional was clear, because Mr. Pinkerton, having the entire directory and encyclopedia of crime and criminals athis fingers' end, knew of no one that would have gone about the affairas this man Cummings had done. 

As everything else has its system, and each system has its followers, sorobbery has its method, and each method its advocates and practitioners. This is so assuredly the fact that the detective almost instantlyrecognizes the hand which did the work by the manner in which the workwas done. 

This particular robbery was unique. An express car had never been lootedin this manner before. "Therefore, " said Mr. Pinkerton, "it was done bya new man, and although this new man had the nerve, brains andshrewdness necessary to successfully terminate his plans, yet he willlack the cunning and experience of an old hand in keeping clear of thedetectives and the law, and will do some one thing which will put usupon his track. "

He had just arrived at this comforting conclusion, when an impatient rapwas heard on the door, followed almost instantly by Mr. Damsel openingit and entering the room. 

In his hand he held a letter, and, full of excitement, he waved it overhis head, as he said:

"He has written a letter. "

A gleam of satisfaction was in Mr. Pinkerton's eye as he took the paperfrom Mr. Damsel, but his manner was entirely void of excitement, and hisvoice was calm and even, as he replied:

"I expected he would do something of that sort. "

Mr. Damsel--his excitement somewhat allayed by the nonchalant mannerwith which the detective had received the news--seated himself on thesofa. 

Mr. Pinkerton read the letter carefully. 

It was headed "St. Joe, Missouri, " and addressed to the editor of theSt. Louis Globe-Democrat, and a large number of sheets, closely writtenin a backhand, was signed "Yours truly, Jim Cummings. " It stated, insubstance, that the robbery had been carefully planned some time beforethe occurrence. That entrance had been gained to the express car by thepresentation of a forged order from Route Agent Bartlett, and thatFotheringham was entirely innocent of the entire affair. 

The letter related, minutely, all that occurred from the time the trainleft St. Louis until it reached Pacific. 

It told how the messenger was attacked, gagged and bound, and, in fact, was such a complete expose of the robbery that Mr. Pinkerton laid itdown with an incredulous smile, saying:

"Nothing to that, Mr. Damsel. That letter was not written by the robber, but is a practical joke, played by some one who gleaned all hisinformation from the newspapers. "

"Indeed, " responded Mr. Damsel, "then what do you say to this?" and hehanded Mr. Pinkerton two pieces of calendered white wrapping paper, showing the seals of the Adams Express Company upon it, the strings cut, but the paper still retaining the form of an oblong package. 

Surprised and puzzled, Mr. Pinkerton saw they were the originalwrappings of the $30, 000 and $12, 000 packages which had been taken fromthe safe by the robber. The addresses were still on the paper, and Mr. Damsel, in a most emphatic tone, said:

"I'm prepared to swear that they are genuine. "

Mr. Pinkerton, still silent, re-read the letter, carefully weighing eachword, and this time finishing it. 

He came to one paragraph, which read:

"Now to prove these facts * * * * I took my gun, a Smith we hadpracticed on, and checked the package in the St. Louis Union Depot, under the initials J. M. Now if you want a good little gun and billy, goand get out the packages checked to J. M. In the Union Depot October25th; there are probably seventy-five or eighty cents charges on it bythis time, but the gun alone is worth $10. Also, if you want a double-barreled shot-gun, muzzle-loader, go along the bank of the MissouriRiver, on the north side, about a mile below St. Charles bridge, andabout twenty feet along the bank, just east of that dike that runs outinto the river, and you will find in a little gully a shot-gun and amusket. Be careful. I left them both loaded with buckshot and caps onthe tubes. They were laying, wrapped up in an oil-cloth, with some weedsthrown over them. Also, down on the river just below the guns, I left myskiff and a lot of stuff, coffee-pot, skillet, and partially concealed, just west of the skiff, you will find a box of grub, coffee, bacon, etc. I came down the river in a skiff Tuesday night, October 26-27, from apoint opposite Labodie. It is a run of thirty-five or thirty-six miles. They should all be there unless some one found them before you gotthere. " * * * *

Mr. Pinkerton, in a brown study, tapping the table with his fingers, satfor some moments. Rising abruptly, he placed his hat on his head, andrequesting Mr. Damsel to follow, left the room. In a short time he wasin the Union Depot, and stepping up to the clerk of the parcel-room, asked for a package which had been left there October 25th, marked "J. M. , " stating that he had lost his ticket. After some search, the clerkbrought forward a parcel tied in a newspaper. 

"This is marked J. M. , and was left here October 25th. "

"That is the one, " said Mr. Pinkerton, and paying the charges, hastenedback to the hotel, In spite of his habitual calmness and sang froid, Mr. Pinkerton's handtrembled as he cut the string. As the paper was unwrapped, both men gavean exclamation of surprise and joy, for disclosed to view was arevolver, a billy, some shirts and papers. 

"At last, " cried Mr. Pinkerton, and he eagerly scanned the variousarticles. The revolver was an ordinary, self-cocking Smith & Wesson. Thebilly was the sort called "life-preservers. " The Adams Express letter-heads were covered with the names "J. B. Barrett" and "W. H. Damsel. "Mr. Pinkerton passed these to his companions. 

"They are pretty fair forgeries. Hang me, if it don't look as though Ihad written that name myself. "

The detective, all this time, was scrutinizing each article, hoping tofind something new. 

With the papers he took out a printed ballad-sheet of the kind sold onthe streets by newsboys and fakirs. Turning it over, he saw somethingwritten on it, and looking closely, read, "----, Chestnut street, "

The handwriting was the same as the handwriting of the letter. The firstclew had been found. 

CHAPTER VI. 

"CHIP" BINGHAM. 

George Bingham, or as he was familiarly called, "Chip" Bingham, was theyoungest operative in Mr. Pinkerton's service. His talents, in thedetective line, ranged considerably higher than did the general run ofhis associates. Possessing an analytical mind, he could take the effect, and, by logical conclusions, retrace its path to the fundamental cause, and following this principle, he had made many valuable discoveries inmystery-shrouded cases, and had, many times, picked the end of a clewfrom a seemingly hopeless snarl, and raveled the entire mesh ofcircumstantial evidence, and made from it a strong cord of substantiatedfacts. Mr. Pinkerton had early recognized this talent, and having, besides, a peculiar attachment to the handsome young fellow, hefrequently placed delicate and intricate cases into his hands, alwayswith good results. It was for Chip, then, he sent, when he had finishedhis examination of the valuable package. 

Mr. Damsel, his mind somewhat freed from the trouble and worry it hadcarried since the robbery, had left Mr. Pinkerton alone and returned tohis office. 

Chip, on receipt of his superior's message, immediately repaired to Room84. His downcast countenance and disappointed air told of fruitlessendeavors to catch even the slightest real clew. He said nothing as heentered the room, but with a gesture of hopeless failure he sank into achair and awaited his chief's pleasure. 

"Chip, I've got a starter. "

With an indulgent smile Chip nodded his head, but failed to exhibit anyextraordinary interest. 

Mr. Pinkerton's eyes twinkled. He understood the situation, but time wasvaluable and he could not waste any in humorous by-play. So withoutfurther parleying he handed Chip the tell-tale letter. 

The young detective, almost from the first word, put the letter down asa practical joke, perpetrated on the newspaper, but as the missiveprogressed he became interested, and when he had reached that portionwhich told of the package every fiber of his detective instinct wasalive, and Mr. Pinkerton had no need of pointing to the precious parcelas corroborative evidence that the letter was genuine. 

In an instant Chip was examining the contents. Every portion of therevolver, billy and letterheads was searched with deepest scrutiny. Theprinted sheet of ballad music was picked up, the verses read and thesheet turned. 

An exclamation burst from his lips, as his eye caught the words, writtenin lead pencil, "----Chestnut Street, " and placing it beside the letter, he saw it was written by the same hand. "The devil! Here is a starter!"

His face glowed with animation, his eyes had the alert look of a houndon a hot scent, and carefully noting the number in his memorandum book, without waiting instructions from Mr. Pinkerton, he picked up his hatand hurriedly left the room. 

Mr. Pinkerton, in full sympathy with his subordinate, lit a cigar, andsettled back for a comfortable smoke until Chip made his report. 

Chip, regaining the street, engaged a hack standing near the hotel, andstopping it a short distance from the number he wanted on Chestnutstreet, walked the remaining distance to the house. 

A sign "Board by the week or day, " and another one, "Furnished rooms tolet, " showed it to be an ordinary boarding-house. Chip had fully decidedwithin himself, during the ride, that the men who had left the parcelhad also left St. Louis. While it was not so much an improbability thatthe men would still be in the city, it was far more probable that theywould put some distance between themselves and the scene of theirexploit. For this reason, Chip decided that a plain course would resultin no unfortunate mishap or premature flushing of the game. 

Ascending the steps, he rang the bell. 

The landlady of the house herself opened the door. 

Before Chip could speak, she said:

"You're a detective, aren't you?"

"Yes, " said Chip, somewhat surprised, and regretting immediately that hehad not made his entrance in a more detective-like manner. 

"I've been expecting some of you. You want to know about those two menthat stopped with me a short time before the 'Frisco express robbery?"

Seeing at once that he was conversing with a more than ordinary shrewdindividual, Chip replied, "That's just what I'm here for. But why do youask that question?"

"Well, I suspicioned something was wrong with them two men. They camehere on the fifteenth of October, and paid me a week's board in advance. They kept their room almost all the time, and when I went in to cleanit, I saw a lot of railroad time-tables and maps scattered around. Oneof them was always in the room. It was never left alone. A week beforethe robbery, the smaller man left, he said for Kansas City, and thelarger man told me if a letter came to the house, directed to Williams, that is for him. Well, on the Friday before the robbery, such a letterdid come, and the big man, after reading it, said he had to go to KansasCity at once, but he didn't leave the house until Monday, and the nextday the robbery occurred. "

"Can you give me a description of the men?"

The landlady thereupon gave a full description of the larger man, whichChip carefully inserted in his note book, and recognized as the samegiven by Fotheringham of his assailant on that memorable night. But herdescription of the smaller of the two was somewhat vague, as she said hewas only in the house a short time, and she saw very little of him. 

"May I go up to the room?"

"Yes; come this way. "

Entering the room, the first thing which met the detective's eye was abottle containing some sort of liniment, having on it a label of aneighboring druggist, In a closet a pair of drawers were found, and withthe dark brown stain below the knee was almost identical to that whichChip had found on the railroad track, and which the robber had thrownfrom the express car. Not satisfied with this, Chip ripped up thecarpet, and as a reward for his labor found an express tag, or rather aportion of one, for the tag was torn in two pieces. On the tag Chip readthe portion of an address, "----ority, " and below, "----worth, Kansas. "Further questioning of the garrulous landlady gained a description ofthe valise which the larger man carried away with him. It tallied withthe description given by Fotheringham of the valise into which JimCummings had put the stolen money. 

Gathering his trophies together, Chip bid his talkative lady friendgood-day, and immediately bent his steps toward the drug store, fromwhich had come the bottle of liniment. 

No, the druggist could not recollect what particular person had boughtthat bottle, but if the young man would call on Doctor B----, he couldprobably ascertain the fact from him, as the liniment was put up fromthe Doctor's prescription. Chip, in a short time, was ushered into theDoctor's presence. 

Yes, the Doctor not only recollected the man, but gave a very closedescription of him. The man had come to him, suffering from a bad bruiseor cut on the leg below the knee. Nothing serious, but so painful thatit caused him to limp. He had made out the prescription of the unguentwhich the bottle had contained, and the man had paid for it. But he gaveno name, nor in what manner he had received the injury. 

Chip, satisfied with his work, left the physician, and whistling for hisjehu, drove back to the hotel. 

That the large man who had boarded with the landlady at ---- Chestnutstreet, and had bought and used the ointment, was identical with JimCummings, the express robber, Chip had not the shadow of a doubt. Thesmaller man was, of course, his accomplice. He had seen where the menhad secreted themselves a week before the robbery, he vas even prettycertain of their movements during that time, but the question was wherehad they gone AFTER the deed was committed. Who and where was theaccomplice? What other men had aided and abetted them in the scheme?With his mind full of these perplexing queries, he sought Mr. Pinkerton's room, and laid before him the result of his search. 

Mr. Pinkerton listened attentively and picking up the torn express tag, examined it carefully. 

It was a portion of an ordinary tag, such as is used by the AdamsExpress Company. 

It had been torn about the middle. The strings were still on it. Fromits appearance it had been addressed, and the person, not satisfied withhis work, had torn it in two and thrown it on the floor, from which ithad probably been swept in a corner, and eventually got under the edgeof the carpet, where Chip had found it. It read. 

 ority

worth Kansas

[Illustration: a drawing of a torn ticket. ]

On the reverse side in faint penciled characters were the words: "it toCook, " From the blurred appearance of the words it was evident that arubber had been used to erase them. These words had escaped Chip'snotice, but as soon as Mr. Pinkerton saw them, he said:

"I see it all, Chip. I see it all. A message was written on the tag, probably giving some instructions, such as 'Send it to Cook, ' or 'Giveit to Cook, ' and the person sending it changing his mind about writinghis instructions so openly tried to erase the words with a rubber, butfailing to do it tore the tag up and addressed another one. 

"The package to which this was to have been tied was sent to some manwhose name ends in 'ority and who was in Leavenworth, Kansas. We canfind that out to-morrow, Chip, so turn in and get some sleep. "

The next morning the books of the company were overhauled, and after along, patient and careful search it was found that on October 23d, twodays before the robbery, a valise had been expressed to a DanielMoriarity, Leavenworth, Kansas, charges prepaid, by a man named JohnWilliams. 

That evening Chip left St, Louis for Leavenworth and Mr. Pinkertonreturned to Chicago. 

CHAPTER VII. 

THE TRAMP. 

About the middle of November, after the now famous express robbery hadtaken place, a man, roughly dressed in a coarse suit of blue, wearing awoolen shirt open at the neck, and, knotted around his throat, a gaudysilk handkerchief, was strolling leisurely along the east bottoms nearKansas City. His face was tanned by exposure to the sun, and his shoeshad the flattened and battered condition which is the naturalconsequence of a long and weary tramp. He walked as if he had noparticular objective point, and looked like one of those peripateticgentry who toil not neither do they spin, the genus "tramp. " Hecomplacently puffed a short clay nose-warmer, with his hands in hispockets, and taking first one side and then the other of the road, ashis fancy dictated, found himself near the old distillery at theoutskirts of the city. 

A saloon near at hand, with its front door invitingly open, attractedhis attention, and the cheering sounds of a violin, scraping out somepopular air, gave a further impetus to inclination, and the tramp turnedto the open door and entered. Seated on an empty barrel, his footexecuting vigorous time to his own music, sat the magician of the horse-hair bow. 

Leaning against the bar, or seated at the small tables scattered around, the tramp saw a goodly number of the disciples of Bacchus, while from aninner room the clicking of ivory chips and half suppressed expressionsof "I'll see you an' go you tenner better. " "A full house pat, what 'erye got, " designated the altar at which the worshipers of "draw poker"were offering sacrifices. 

The saloon consisted of one long, low room, on one side of which waslocated the conventional bar, with its background of glitteringdecanters and dazzling glasses and its "choice assortment of liquors"--to quote the sign which called attention to these necessary luxuries. 

A large stove stood in the center of the room, and a number of smalltables were placed around promiscuously, The bar-tender, a smooth-faced, beetle-browed rascal, was engaged in shaking dice for the drinks with acustomer, and, to the music of the violin, a light-footed Irishman wasexecuting his national jig, to the great delight and no smalledification of his enthusiastic audience. 

The wide sombreroes, perched back on the head, pointed out the cowboyswho were making up for the lonesome days and nights on the plains. 

It was a motley crowd, a fair specimen of the heterogeneous mass ofhumanity which floats hither and there all over our western States, andcontained some villainous-looking fellows. 

As the tramp entered, the interest in the jig was developing intoenthusiasm. Hands were clapped, and fingers snapped to the time of thenimble heels and toes of the jaunty Corkonian. The violinist wassettling down to vigorous work, and Pat, having the incentive ofanticipated free drinks as a reward for his efforts, was executing themost intricate of steps. 

The tramp lounged to the bar, followed by the suspicious glance of thebar-keeper, who assumed a more respectful demeanor as the object of hissuspicions threw down a silver quarter and named his drink. It wasquickly furnished, and as quickly disposed of. The dancer had finishedhis jig and accepted with alacrity the proffered offers to wet hiswhistle. As he stepped to the bar his glance fell upon the tramp. 

"Are ye drinkin' this aivenin'?"

"I am that, " responded the tramp, "Faith, an' its not at yer own expinse, then, " with a glance at theragged clothing and "hard-up" appearance of the wanderer. 

"An' a divil sight less at yours, " retorted the tramp. "But by the sametoken, we both get our rosy by manes of our heels. "

"Shure fir ye, lad. Its hard up I've been myself before the now, but itsa cold day when Barney O'Hara will let a bog-trotter go dry--name yourpoison. "

"Its the rale ould stuff I'll be a takin' straight, " and the trampspread his elbows on the counter and soon demonstrated his ability togulp down the fiery fluid without any such effeminate trimmings as waterin it. After the first glass had been emptied the tramp said:

"I've had a bit of luck to-day; what's your medicine?"

"The same, " responded Barney. 

The liquor was poured into the glasses, and the tramp, diving deep inhis pockets, drew out some small silver currency, and, with a movementexpressive of untold wealth, threw it on the counter. 

As he did so, the bar-keeper uttered an oath of astonishment, several ofthe roysterers sprang forward, and Barney, with an exclamation ofamazement, put his hand on a Pinkerton detective star, with its terribleeye in the center, which had fallen on the counter with the nickles anddimes the tramp had thrown down. 

Dark looks and murderous eyes were turned on the tramp, and more thanone hand was placed on a revolver, The bar-keeper with an ugly look, andbullying swagger, stepped from behind the bar and advanced on the tramp, his face distorted with rage, and his fists doubled in a most aggressivemanner. 

The tramp, without moving, and apparently ignorant of the sensation hehad created, raised his glass to his lips, and with a hearty "Here's toye, lads, " tossed off the whisky. 

As he replaced his glass, he became aware that he was the center ofattention, and facing the bar-keeper, said:

"What's the row with ye? I paid fer the drinks, "

"What are you doin' with a detective's star?" said the bar-keeper, "Haven't I a right to one; I dunno--finders keepers, losers weepers--Ipicked the bit of brass up on the road not over an hour ago, "

The bar-keeper was not to be pacified by such a story, and in athreatening voice, he asked:

"Are you a man-hunter or not?"

The tramp threw a pitying glance of scorn at the pugilistic whisky-seller, as he replied:

"Be gorra, ye damned fool, do you think that I'd be after givin' myselfaway like this if I WAS one?"

"In course ye wouldn't, " broke in Barney. "Don't be a fool, Jerry, thisman is no detective, " and Barney fastened the star to the vest whichencircled the portly form of the bar-keeper. 

"Now ye're one yerself, an' will be after runnin' us all in fer notdetectin' enough of the elegant liquor ye handle. "

To this the man could make no reply, save a deep, hoarse laugh, andresuming his professional position, was shortly engaged in alleviatingthe thirst of his patrons. 

This little episode had just occurred, when the door of the inner roomwas thrown violently open and a man, his coat off, rushed up to the bar. 

"Here, Jerry, break this fifty for me, " at the same time throwing down afifty-dollar bill, crisp and fresh. 

"Your playin' in bad luck to-day, Cook?"

"Yes, damn it, " said Cook. "Give me a drink for good luck. "

As the bar-keeper uttered the name of Cook a quick, but hardlyperceptible glance of intelligence passed between Barney and the tramp. 

Cook hastily swallowed his whisky, rushed back to the poker table with ahandful of five dollar bills, and quiet reigned over the place. The bar-keeper, who spied a possible good customer in the tramp, had enteredinto a little conversation at the end of the counter, on which the trampleaned, the embodiment of solid comfort, puffing his cigar vigorously, or allowing it to burn itself out in little rings of smoke. 

"You're a stranger to these parts?"

With an expressive wink, the tramp replied:

"Not so much as ye think, I've spint many a noight around here. "

"Night hawk, eh? an' I took you for a man-trailer. "

"I've had the spalpeens after myself afore now, " spoke the tramp, in alow, confidential whisper. 

"You keep yourself devilish low, then, for I know all the lads, and it'sthe first time I've clapped these two eyes on you. "

"Do ye think I mane to let the fly cops put their darbies on me, that Ishould be nosin' around in the broad day?"

"You're too fly for them, I see, " said the bar-keeper, with a sagaciousshake of his head. "You an' Barney are a pair. "

"Barney? Ye mane the Irish lad that was just here a bit ago?"

"The same. He's square. He's one of you. "

The tramp leaned forward, his eyes fastened on the bloodshot eyes of thedrink-compounder, and in an earnest tone, asked:

"Is he a bye that could crack a plant with the loikes o' me?"

Impressed with the tone and manner of the tramp, the bar-keeper gazedquickly around the room, and in a still lower tone, replied:

"He's on a lay himself. Would you like to go his pal?" The tramp slowlynodded his head, and after receiving the whispered invitation to comearound later, strolled out of the saloon; and so on up the road. 

Turning a corner he nearly ran against Barney himself, who was sittingon a horse-block, enjoying a pipe and the sun. 

Not a soul was in sight. Satisfying himself of that fact, Barney gazedat the tramp and said:

"By Jove, Chip, I thought you were a goner when that confounded starfell out. "

Chip gave a deep sigh of relief, and taking off his hat, pointed to theperspiration which moistened the band:

"Don't that look as though I thought so, too, Sam?"

"How in the name of all that's lovely, did you happen to be socareless?"

"That's what it was, sheer carelessness. I suffered, though, for it. Itwould have been all up with me if the gang had not been so deucedlystupid. That Jerry is a villain, and no mistake. I told him that I was aprofesh, and he told me that you were another, and had a plan to do somefine work without asking permission of the owners. So I am to meet himagain to-night, and see if you will not take me as your pal. You haveyour cue, and will know how to act. "

"Chip, did you notice that man Cook?"

"You mean, did I notice the fifty-dollar bill he threw down?"

"Well, both. "

"Seems to me he didn't look like a man that ought to be carrying fifty-dollar bills around so recklessly. "

"He's a cooper, runs that little shop over there, and hasn't done astroke of work for a month. "

The cooper-shop pointed out by Sam was a small frame building, havingthe sign, "Oscar Cook--Barrels and Kegs, " painted over the door. It wasa tumbled-down, rickety affair, evidently having seen its best days. 

Chip surveyed it intently, then turned to Sam, inquired:

"That express tag had on it something about a man named Cook, didn'tit?"

"Yes, the words, 'it to Cook. '"

"Supposing that Dan Moriarity, whom we now know had some connection withthe robbery, had taken the valise, which was sent from St. Louis toLeavenworth, had obeyed the order, for it was evidently an order whichwas written on the tag, and given 'it to Cook, ' it would be fair toinfer that the Cook mentioned had some hand in the pudding, too, andought to be pretty flush about this time. "

"You mean--"

"No, I don't mean that the Cook over in the saloon playing poker and theCook mentioned on the tag are the same person, but we found no DanMoriarity or Cook in Leavenworth but what was above suspicion, and Ithink that the men who were smart enough to plan and carry out a robberysuch as this was would be shrewd enough to take every possibleprecaution against discovery. I mean that neither Moriarity or Cook areLeavenworth people, and for all we know to the contrary, may live herein Kansas City. "

As Chip finished speaking, a man appeared in front of the cooper shop, and unlocking the door, entered. 

"There is Cook, now, " said Sam, making a movement as if to rise. 

With a motion of the hand Chip cautioned him to remain where he was, andwith lazy steps, lounged toward the shop. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

CAPTURE AND RESCUE. 

The White Elephant was a large gambling hall in Kansas City, situated onone of the principal thoroughfares. It was centrally located, and nightafter night the brilliant lights and crowded tables bore witness to itsrushing business. 

On this evening the tiger was out with all its claws. Rouge et noir, roulette, faro, keno, and stud-poker were going in full blast. Theproprietor, his elegant diamonds flashing in the light, was seated on araised platform from whence he could survey the entire company--hisface, impassive as marble and unreadable as the sphinx, was turnedtoward the faro lay-out, which this evening appeared to be the center ofattraction. 

Among the players sat one whose tall form and athletic frame would havebeen noticeable under any circumstances, but was now more so, as ittowered above his fellow-gamesters who crowded around the table. 

Before him lay a high pile of chips. He played with the nonchalant airof one who was there merely to pass away a vacant hour, but his stakeswere high and he played every shot. His calm, impassioned countenancebore the unmistakable stamp of the professional gambler, and, serene asa quiet mill-pond, he bore his losses or pocketed his winnings with theenviable sang froid which results from a long and intimate acquaintancewith the green-baized table. 

Every night for a week had this man occupied the same seat, and withcareless imperturbability had mulcted the bank of several thousands. 

Rieley, the proprietor, himself one of the coolest dare-devil gamblersin the West, had recognized a kindred spirit, but to all advances andefforts to make his acquaintance the stranger had turned a coolshoulder, and his identity was still a matter of conjecture. 

Rieley was watching him closely this evening, so intently, indeed, thatthe stranger, with a look of annoyance, swept the chips into his hat andstepping up to the banker cashed them in and walked out of the room. Ashe emerged from the door he came in violent contact with a man justentering. 

"I beg your pardon. "

"Not at--by Jove! Moriarity, you here too?"

"Blest if it isn't Jim!"

"Hush! you fool, speak lower. "

"Been up bucking the tiger?"

"I've been making a damned fool of myself. Rieley watched me too closefor comfort, and I am going to vamoose. "

"When?"

"None of your business. I want you to come with me to-night. I must seeCook. "

"Don't do it, Jim. Pinkerton's men are as thick as blackberries. Youwill run into one of them if you don't lay low. 

"No danger for me. One of them has a room next to mine at the hotel, andI played billiards with him this afternoon. "

"You're a cool one, Jim. Too cool. It will get you into trouble yet. "

"Damn your croaking, man. Do you show the white feather now?"

"Not I. I only warned you. "

"Well, put a clapper to your jaw, and come along. "

Boarding a street car, the men stood on the front platform smokingduring the long ride to the terminus of the road. 

Leaving the car, they plunged through the darkness over the same pathtrod by the tramp earlier in the afternoon. 

The dark form of the distillery loomed up ahead of them, gloomy andlonesome. 

Overhead not a star was to be seen, and save an occasional drunkardstaggering home, the two men were alone on the road. 

A short distance beyond the distillery the cooper-shop squatted besidethe street, and the dim flicker of a candle cast its pitiful lightthrough the dirt-encrusted window. 

As Moriarity and Cummings stepped from the shadow of the distillery, anindistinct form stole behind them, and keeping just within sight, followed the two men as they wended their lonely way to Cook's shop. 

Disdaining all attempts at concealment, Cummings rapped loudly on thedoor. 

The sound of clinking glasses was heard, and a voice, heavy and thick, growled out, "Come in. "

A vigorous shove opened the door, and Cummings was about to step inside, but at the sight of another man, a ragged tramp, drinking with Cook, hestopped short. 

"Come in, b'hoy, come in; d-d-don't keep the d-d-door open; come rightin, " stuttered Cook, too drunk to speak intelligibly. 

The tramp, elevating his glass above his head, with an inviting gesture, shouted the words of the old drinking song:

 "Drink, puppy, drink, let every puppy drink That's old enough to stand and to swallow. For we'll pass the bottle round, when we've become a hound, And merrily we'll drink and we'll hallo. "

Cook attempted to join in the chorus, but his voice failed him, his headsank down upon his breast, and, in a drunken stupor, he rolled from hisseat, prone upon the ground. 

The tramp, rising to his feet, staggered to the side of his companion, and steadying himself with the aid of a chair, made futile attempts toraise his comrade to a perpendicular position. His knees bent under him, the chair fell from his unsteady grasp, and murmuring, "We'll pass thebottle round, " he lurched forward, and falling across the recumbentCook, passed from the worship of Bacchus to the arms of Morpheus, seemingly dead drunk. 

With a bitter curse of rage Cummings stepped forward, and, with roughhands, separated the boon companions, thrusting the tramp withoutceremony under the table, Moriarity in the meantime shaking Cook in vainattempts to rouse him from his maudlin stupor. Cook, however, was toofar "under the influence" to be aroused, and to the vigorous shakingsand punchings would respond only with a hiccough and part of the refrain"puppies drink. "

Cummings, in a towering rage at finding Cook in such a helplesscondition, paced the small shop with impatient tread, all the timepouring imprecations upon Cook's devoted head. A sudden turn in hisshort beat brought him facing the window, and flattened against thedirty pane was the face of a man gazing intently into the room. 

Another second and the face had disappeared. 

Cummings stopped abruptly at the sight of the apparition, his facebecame livid, and a shade of terror flashed across his countenance. Itwas but an instant, though, that he stood thus, and calling to Moriarityto follow, he dashed through the door, drawing his ready revolver fromhis side coat-pocket at the same time, and catching a fleeting glimpseof a flying shadow, sped after it. 

Moriarity, somewhat dazed at the unexpected turn of affairs, had risento his feet, and stood blankly gazing at the open door, notcomprehending what had occurred. A movement made by the pseudo tramp, caused him to turn around, and he was gazing straight into the openbarrel of a dangerous-looking revolver, held by a steady hand, and cooldaring eyes were glancing over the shining barrel, as a voice, decidedand commanding, said:

"Hands out, Dan Moriarity, I want you. "

Chip, as he was stretched on the floor feigning drunkenness, had kepthis ears open, although obliged to keep his eyes closed. 

The single candle which lit the room, furnished light too indistinct forhim to see the faces of the two visitors, and as he acted his characterof the drunken man, he cudgeled his brains to account for their visit. 

The sudden disappearance of Cummings, and his calling out, "Moriarity, follow me, " cleared the mystery. 

He comprehended the situation at once. 

While he did not know it was Jim Cummings that had been in the room, hismind with lightning speed grouped the torn express tag, the words "it toCook, " the man Cook, who lay beside him drunk, the fifty-dollar billwhich he had changed at the bar-room, together with Dan Moriarity, andquick to reach his conclusions, he saw that it was the Moriarity hewanted, accompanied by some one who had come to see Cook. 

Half opening his eyes he saw that Moriarity was standing up, nonplussedat something, and instantly he drew his revolver, and as Moriarityturned around covered him and ordered him to hold out his hands. 

Staggered again the second time by seeing a ragged tramp, who a fewseconds before was stretched at his feet in a drunken slumber, nowerect, perfectly sober, and having the drop on him, Moriarity becamemore bewildered, and passively held out his hands. 

The sharp click of steel handcuffs brought the dazed man to his senses, but too late. 

He opened his mouth to cry for aid, but a strong hand was laid on hiswind-pipe and the cry died before it was born. 

The cold barrel of the revolver against his ear, and the detective's"shut up or I'll shoot, " was too strong an argument to combat, andMoriarity submitted to being pushed hurriedly from the room into theopen air and dark night. 

Chip was beginning to congratulate himself on the important capture hehad made, and with his hand on his captive's collar, and his revolver tohis ear, was moving towards the center of the street, when a whistling"swish" was heard, the dull thud of a slung shot on the detective's headfollowed, and, every muscle relaxed, he sank a senseless man in the dustof the road. 

"Help me pick him up, " said Cummings, "and be quick about it, there'sanother beak around. "

"I can't. I've got his darbies on. "

Cummings stooped down, and lifting Chip in his arms, walked rapidly downthe road toward the river. 

"What are you going to do with him, Jim?"

"Chuck him through the ice. He knows too much. "

With the senseless man in his arms, Cummings hurried forward, nor pauseduntil he reached the river bank. 

The weather had been piercingly cold for a week, although no snow hadfallen, and the river was frozen solid from bank to bank. 

To this fact Chip owed his life. When the train robber came to the ice, he sounded it with his heel. It was solid and firm, not even an air holeto be seen. 

Baffled in his murderous designs, he debated for a second whether itwould not be the best thing to leave the detective on the ice, and lethim freeze to death, but the publicity of the place, its proximity tothe city, and the risk of having been shadowed by the man whom he hadcaught gazing through the window, caused him to think of some secureplace wherein to put the senseless Chip. He first searched the woundedman's pockets, and, finding the key, released the handcuffs fromMoriarity. 

The latter, seeing Cummings hesitate, and divining the cause, said in aquestioning voice:

"Why not take him to the widow's, Jim?"

"I would a damned sight rather put him through the ice, but its toothick for me. Do you think we can carry him between us?"

"It would never do to let people see us two with a dead man between us. "

"Then you must go up town and get a hack. "

Moriarity turned back to the shore, and climbing the bank, hurried inthe direction of the city. 

Left alone with his victim, the desperado bent over him, placing hishand on Chip's heart. It beat steadily, though not strongly, andCummings experienced a feeling of relief when he felt the regularpulsations, He had never yet shed blood, and his first passion having died out, hewas glad that the thick ice had defeated his first purpose. 

The stunned detective stirred, the cold, crisp air was reviving him, andCummings, his better nature asserting itself, hastily doffed hisovercoat and threw it over the recumbent form of his captive. 

It was not very long before the noise of carriage wheels were heard, andMoriarity running out on the ice assisted Cummings in carrying Chip tothe land and placed him in the carriage, which he had caught on the wayto town. 

The driver, who had been told that "one of the boys had got more than hecould carry, " did not concern himself to investigate too closely, andhaving received his order, drove briskly from the scene. 

The darkness and open country gave way to gas-lights and paved streets, over which the carriage rattled at a lively pace. Turning into a sidestreet, Dan pulled the check-strap, and the carriage turned to the curband stopped. 

The detective, still unconscious, was lifted out, the driver paid anddismissed, and the two men, bearing Chip between them, entered a dark, narrow alley. 

Proceeding up this for some distance, they entered the low door of abasement and placed their still insensible burden on the floor. 

The damp, moldy smell of an underground room filled the air, and but fora slender beam of light which flashed beneath an adjoining door theplace was dark as night. 

Softly stealing to the door, Moriarity applied his ear to the key-hole, and hearing no sounds within, gave a peculiar double rap on the panel. 

Receiving no answer, he cautiously opened the door and disclosed asmall, square room, having a low ceiling, and lighted by a single low-burning gas jet. 

On the walls hung a large astronomical map, showing the solar system, and divided with the girdle of the zodiac into its variousconstellations. 

A grinning skull, mounted on a black pedestal, stood on a small table inthe center of the room, and on shelves against the wall were ranged anumber of curiously-shaped bottles. 

It was, in fact, the divining-room of a professional fortune-teller. 

The room was vacant when Moriarity opened the door, but as he threw itback, a small bell was sounded. 

Almost instantly heavy curtains which hung opposite the door were pushedaside, and the fortune-teller appeared. 

Advancing with stately strides, her tall form erect and her handsclasped before her, she fastened a pair of cruel, glittering eyes onMoriarity and in a deep voice asked:

"Why this intrusion at this late hour?"

"Oh! drop that stuff, Nance; it won't go down with us; we're no gulls tohave pretty things told us by giving you a dollar. "

Recognizing her visitor, Nance, in her natural tone, inquired sharply:

"What do you want at this time of night?"

"In the first place we want you to keep your mouth shut. In the nextplace you must find a place for a man we've got here, and keep him for awhile. "

"You're a loving nephew, you are, Dan Moriarity, Oh! you come around andsee your old aunt when you're up to some devilment, I'm bound. "

Moriarity, not deigning to reply to this speech, had gone back to hiscompanion, and now returned with the form of the detective between them. 

"My God! you haven't killed him, Dan?"

"He has a pretty sore head, I reckon, but nothing worse. Take us up-stairs. "

Following Nance, the men carried Chip behind the curtain, throughanother room, and ascended a flight of stairs. 

Nance threw open a door and Chip was placed upon a bed. The room wassumptuously, even elegantly, furnished. Pictures adorned the walls, aheavy carpet deadened the sound of the feet, and rich curtains kept backthe too-inquisitive light. 

Chip, wounded and insensible, was in the house of the "widow, " therendezvous of a daring band of robbers and the birth-place of many adashing raid or successful bank robbery. 

CHAPTER IX. 

IN THE TOILS. 

The dark shadow that had followed Cummings and Moriarity from thedistillery to Cook's cooper-shop was none other than the assumed BarneyO'Hara, who had aired his heels so jauntily in the saloon thatafternoon. 

Watching on the outside while Chip was working Cook, he had spotted andshadowed the two men as they came down the road. 

The careless exposure of his face to Cummings through the window was thecause of the latter's sudden attempt to catch him. 

His nimble heels again stood him in good stead, and in the darkness heeasily eluded his pursuer. 

Cummings gave up the chase, and returning just in time, had stoppedChip's success by knocking him down with a slungshot and carrying himoff. 

When Barney, or, rather, Sam, returned to renew his investigation, hefound the shop empty, save the intoxicated Cook. 

Thinking his late pursuer and his companion had taken the alarm, andthat Chip was now doubtless shadowing them, he walked into the shop, and, true to his detective instincts and education, began a diligentsearch of the place. 

He was actively engaged in this work when the sound of hasty footstepsreached his ears. Throwing himself flat on the floor, behind a pile ofbarrel staves, he drew his revolver and waited. The steps passed by, however, and Sam quickly but quietly left the shop. 

He could barely see the form of a man walking rapidly down the street tothe horse-car track. 

As he passed the window of the saloon the light fell on him, and Sam sawit was one of the two men who had just left the cooper-shop. 

Following closely, using all his skill as a successful shadow, hetrailed the man to the car, and boarding the front platform rode intotown. 

Passing a livery stable the man left the car, still followed by Sam. 

When Moriarity, for it was he whom Sam was trailing, rode back to theriver, Sam was perched on behind the hack. 

He saw the wounded Chip placed inside, thanks to the darkness, and stillhanging on the back of the carriage was carried back to town. 

When the two train robbers turned into the alley Sam was right behindthem, so close that he could hear their labored breathing. Suddenly, asif they had been swallowed by the earth, he was left alone in the dark, nonplussed and outwitted. 

Not a point of light was visible, and settling himself against the wallof a building, Sam started in for an all-night watch. 

He understood the case at once. Chip had been knocked down by therenegades, and, probably still insensible, had been carried to theirhaunt. Knocked down, either because they had discovered his disguise, orhad suspected him. 

He was now firmly convinced that if Cook was not an accomplice in thetrain robbery, he was involved in something criminal, and Sam regrettedthat he had not been more thorough in his investigations. Now that Chipwas in the hands of his enemies, all others sank into insignificance; sowith keen eyes and sharp ears, Sam kept his solitary vigil. 

The gray dawn of the morning had taken the place of the night, and Sam, under the shadow of a convenient shed door had heard or seen nothingpass his post. The day grew stronger, and, chilled to the bone, thedisappointed detective left the alley and wended his way to hisboarding-house. 

The cause of the sudden disappearance of the two robbers the reader isacquainted with, and the reason Sam failed to see them again was becausethey had left the house by another exit. 

The widow, acting as a go-between and a fence for the light-fingeredgentry who patronized her establishment, hid her real calling with theguise of a fortune-teller, and her house, poorly furnished, damp andmoldy when entered from the alley, was well furnished in the upperstories. 

The room in which Chip was confined was the sybil's chief pride. Everyarticle of furniture, every bit of painting, the carpets, and even thebase-burning stove, were the trophies of successful robberies. 

The very sheets and towels had been deftly purloined by the widowherself. 

It was this stronghold of the "gang, " to which Chip, battered andinsensible, had been brought by his captors. 

Cummings, who from his actions was no stranger to the house, in briefauthoritative tones, bade the witch to take charge of this prisoneruntil further disposition could be made of him. 

The widow listened to his words, and with the submission which all hisassociates rendered to him, promised to do all he commanded. 

The first gleam of the morning warned the two men that they must seektheir cover, for despite Jim's natural boldness and daring, he wascautious and careful. Instead of descending to the room which had itsentrance from the alley, they mounted another flight of stairs, andgaining the roof by means of the scuttle, walked the flat mansard untilanother hatch-door was reached, and through it they entered a quiet, unassuming appearing house, which stood on the side street from whichthe alley branched. 

The house, though completely furnished, was vacant, and the men reachedthe street without meeting any one. 

Cummings and Moriarity having left, the widow, for the first timeventured to look at her new charge. Her keen eyes noted the disguisewhich Chip had adopted. The wicked blow which had brought him to thisplight had moved the red wig to one side and disclosed the darkclustering hair, now bathed and soaked in his blood. 

He was still unconscious, but his strong constitution was regaining itssway, and he moved uneasily on his soft couch. 

The widow, now remembering the commands which Cummings had laid uponher, hastened to bring water, and washed the wound. The slung shot hadstruck squarely across the crown of the head, but the cut was not verylarge or deep, and the widow, with ready skill, bound it neatly withbandages, and holding a brandy flask to his mouth forced some of itscontents down his throat. 

The color came back to the detective's face, and in a few moments hiseyes opened, and with a dazed expression wandered over the room. 

The widow, as she noticed the first signs of returning consciousness hadretired from the room, now, with consummate skill, put a kindly, eventender, look toward the sufferer as she reappeared through the door. 

Chip, still very much bewildered, his head feeling as though it waswhirling off his shoulders, heard a pleasant voice asking: "And how ismy poor boy, now?"

Chip gazed vacantly at her, as he responded:

"Who are you? Where am I--my head--"

"Come, come, don't talk. Take this medicine like a good boy, and go tosleep. "

With childlike obedience the detective swallowed the draught, which soontook possession of his senses, and he fell asleep. 

The widow quietly sat beside him until the opiate had taken full effect. Then muttering "You are safe for four and twenty hours, " she descendedto her divining-room, leaving the detective deep in slumber, and incomplete ignorance of his surroundings. 

CHAPTER X. 

ON THE WATCH. 

Sam Slade and Chip had been comrades at arms for almost two years. Manya dashing capture had they made Adventures and hair-breadth escapes wereof frequent occurrence with the two "dare-devils, " as the force haddubbed them, and before now each had saved the other's life by some boldstroke or skillful strategy. 

Satisfied that Chip was in danger, if not of his life at least of hisliberty, Sam hastened to his room, and with the aid of soap and waterresumed his natural appearance. The jaunty-looking Irish lad, BarneyO'Hara, would never be recognized in the young gentleman who looked atyou through gold-rimmed spectacles, with soft gray eyes, and whose soberdemeanor and grave countenance bore the stamp of the student orminister. 

It was this metamorphized individual that walked languidly to thebreakfast table and responded in gentle tones to the woman's salutationswhich greeted him. Breakfast served and over, Sam again sought his room. His boarding-house had been selected entirely on account of this room. The room had once been occupied by a physician as his office, and, standing on the corner of two streets, had a side entrance to it besidesthe entrance from the main portion of the house. 

Thus the detective could slip in and out entirely unobserved by theboarders or his landlady, the latter supposing him to be a man of enoughmeans to enable him to live without daily labor. 

Sam had given her this idea, and supplemented it by stating he wasengaged in literary pursuits. 

Reaching his room, Sam wrote out a full report for the last twenty-fourhours (this constituted his literary labors) to be forwarded to Mr. Pinkerton in Chicago. 

After his report was finished, he hastily threw off his clothing, andreplaced his sober suit of gray by the flashy costume of a man abouttown, he stood before his mirror to make up his face. 

No actor was more clever than Sam in artistic and realistic disguises. His smooth face was skillfully covered by a beard, short-cropped, hisnose was given the slightest rosy tint, and putting on a light overcoat, the studious young gentleman of half an hour ago was transformed into ahowling swell. 

Tan-colored gloves and a heavy, silver-headed cane completed hiscostume. Thus arrayed he sallied forth. 

It was now nearly noon. The streets were crowded, and Sam kept his eyeswell opened, carelessly but keenly scrutinizing every man he met. 

One saloon after another was visited, but no sight of the mysterious menwho had downed Chip could be obtained. 

He had carefully noted his bearings when he left the alley in themorning, so he had no trouble in finding the correct locality again. 

His hat was tipped rakishly over his left eye as he swaggered up thealley and entered a beer vault for which the alley was really theentrance. By good luck, no customers were present, and Sam engaged in alively conversation with the bartender. 

Skillful pumping, judiciously mixed with high-priced drinks, soon gaveSam the entire history of the denizens of the locality. 

It was beside the shed door of the beer vault that Sam had kept hissolitary watch and ward the previous night, so that somewhere about thispoint Chip had been carried by his captors. 

Gazing through the window, Sam saw a mass of debris; old cans, ashes andthe like were scattered in the center of the court or alley, while onboth sides, near the buildings, a narrow board walk was laid. 

Now, Sam knew that when he entered the place he was on the right-handside, immediately behind his game. 

If they had crossed over to the side on which the beer vault stood, thecrunching of the ashes or the noise of the old cans, which would be veryapt to be moved, would have advised him of that fact. 

Putting these facts together, Sam was almost certain that they had notentered the beer cellar. 

Just opposite stood a half-open door, which, flush with the court, wouldhave accounted for the sudden disappearance of the men if they hadturned suddenly and entered it. These observations were made by thedetective while he was engaged in a lively and pungent conversation withthe burly bar-keeper. 

The saloon made a good post of observation, and Sam settled himself foran all-day patron if necessary. Taking a seat near the window, he calledfor a glass of beer, and tilting back his chair took a careful survey ofthe premises. 

The alley was what is termed a "blind alley. " On each side were lowdoors entering the basements of the houses, and the population consistedof rag-pickers, second-hand clothiers and one pawnshop. It was just sucha place as one would expect to meet the lowest types of humanity. Dirtychildren were playing in the half-deserted place, their blue lips andpinched faces speaking eloquently of their poverty. Italian hand-organgrinders were sitting on their door-steps, and slatternly women wereleaning from their windows, exchanging gossip in loud, shrill tones. Occasionally a man would walk hurriedly up the narrow walk, carrying asuspicious bundle, and eyeing nervously every person he might meet, dodging suddenly into some one of the doors. All this Sam saw, but hiseyes seldom left the half-open door immediately opposite. 

He had been at his post nearly an hour, smoking a cigar or supping hisliquor, the bar-keeper not caring what his customer did or what he was, so long as he ordered and paid for an occasional drink, when thereappeared at the door of the house which the detective was so closelywatching a tall, dark-complexioned woman. Her eyes, strikinglybrilliant, swept the place, but the shadows of the beer-cellar preventedher seeing the interested person who noted every movement she made. Thewoman, after gazing up and down the court, threw her shawl over herhead, and with long, gliding steps, walked toward the street. 

The bar-keeper who was standing beside Sam, as the female passed downthe court, said with an outward jerk of his thumb:

"Rum old gal that. "

"Friend of yours?" lazily inquired the detective. 

"Naw. I don't have nothin' to do with her, nor she with me. She's afortune-teller, she is. "

"One of them kind that lays out the cards, and spells out your fortune, eh?"

"I dunno. I never was in her den. "

"Wonder if she could give me a luck charm?" asked Sam. 

"If you've got the dust, she can make you anything. Them as lives aroundhere says she's a witch. Maybe so. I think she's some cursed half-breed, myself. None too good now, I tell you. "

"Lived here long?"

"Who? Me?"

"No, the woman. "

"I've been here five years, and she was here before me. "

"I suppose she has plenty of customers, eh?"

"You bet she has. The fool-killer ought to lay around here for a while. There were two dandy blokes come out of there this morning. "

Sam started, and inwardly cursed his stupidity in letting his game getaway from him. The two men of which the bar-keeper spoke, were probablythe very persons he wanted, so, in an indifferent tone, he inquired:

"What's her office hours?"

"Any time night or day I reckon. The two swells came out about 10, Iguess. Maybe later. "

"She don't throw on much style?"

"Don't she though. Silks ain't nothin' to her. She's a clipper when sheagonizes. "

Fearing, if he kept up the conversation much longer, that the bar-keeperwould suspect his game, Sam called for another cigar, and picking up adeck of cards which lay on the table, suggested a game of "seven up. "The bar-keeper seated himself with his back to the window, Sam stillholding his post of survey. 

The game was only just begun, when the fortune-teller, carrying a smallbottle, apparently of medicine, returned and entered the door. 

Sam's interest in the game died out shortly after, and patrons beginningto appear, the bar-keeper took his accustomed place behind the bar. 

The room gradually filled up, and taking advantage of a little crowdnear the door, Sam quietly slipped through the door and walked straightacross to the fortune-teller's house. 

As he entered, the inner door was opened and the dark woman herselfappeared. 

With inimitable assurance the detective removed his hat and advancedtoward her. 

Drawing herself up to her full height, the sibyl in a deep, solemn voicesaid:

"What brings you here?"

"I'm in hard luck. Got scooped up to the White Elephant and want you togive me a luck charm. "

The eyes of the hag glittered greedily as Sam held out a five-dollarbill, and throwing the door wide open she bade him enter. 

As Sam did so his experienced eye took in the whole room, the skull, charts, bottles and even the cards did not escape his gaze. 

Nance pushed forward a chair, and telling him under pain of breaking thespell not to utter a word, she retired behind the curtain. 

Left alone Sam took a more deliberate survey of the apartment and couldhardly repress an exclamation of satisfaction as he saw lying on thefloor the old slouch hat which Chip had worn the preceding day. Hisface, however, showed nothing as Nance reappeared bearing in one hand apeculiar lamp, scrolled and formed in a fanciful pattern and in theother a large book bound in parchment, covered with hieroglyphics. Putting the lamp on the table she extinguished the gas, and the pale-blue flame of the alcohol in the lamp cast its ghastly beams over thestrange place. 

Muttering rapidly to herself she threw powder on the flame, causing agreen flash to appear each time, with her eyes fastened on the openpages of the book. 

Amused at the hollow fraud, Sam looked on, very much interested andracking his brain to devise some means of gaining a further entrance tothe house. From its outside appearance he knew he must be in one of therear rooms, and if Chip was not behind the curtain he must be in anupper story. While he was thus occupied the fortune-teller had finishedher incantations, and, taking from a drawer a small amulet sewed in oilskin, handed it to the detective. 

"Take this, my son--the stars are auspicious. It will bring you and keepnear you good luck and high fortune. Now, depart in peace, for I amweary and would fain seek rest. "

His answer surprised her, for, rising abruptly, he struck a match, and, lighting the gas jet, pushed aside the curtains. 

With a scream of rage, Nance sprang forward. 

"Go but another step, and I'll tear your heart out!"

Disregarding her, the detective pushed forward and threw open the doorleading to the ascending stairs. 

In a trice he had mounted them and turning to the right, entered a room. His astonishment was so great that he half stopped, for the apartmentwas furnished in almost regal style; richly-upholstered furniture andoil paintings contrasted so vividly with the squalor and misery of thelower part of the house that the audacious detective could scarcelybelieve his senses. 

A smothered cry of rage and terror behind him warned him, and turningswiftly he beheld Nance, with wild eyes and disheveled hair, springingtoward him. In her uplifted hand gleamed the glittering blade of astilletto, and like a fury she rushed upon the bold intruder. 

The trained hand flew to the pocket and the ready revolver leaped forth. 

Nance staggered back, the dagger falling from her nerveless hand, as inabject terror she crouched on a chair. 

"Don't shoot! don't shoot! See, I won't hurt you, " she moaned. 

Grasping her by the wrist, and pressing the revolver to her head, Samsaid, sternly, and in a voice that would brook no delay:

"What have you done with the man brought here last night?"

Nance pointed to the next room, too frightened to speak, and thrustingher forward, Sam continued his search. 

Chip, his head covered with a bandage, and still somewhat confused, recognized his comrade as he entered the room. His mind was clearenough, however, to appreciate the situation, when the terror-strickenhag, pointing her long skinny finger at him, quivered in a tremulousvoice: "He's alive; don't you see he's alive?"

Overjoyed at finding Chip safe and still alive, Sam clasped his hands. 

"Can you walk, Chip?" he asked, "I don't know, Sam. I had a devilish close call, " and Chip threw backthe covers and essayed to step from the bed. His limbs trembled, andthrowing up his hands despairingly, he sank back again. A flask ofbrandy stood on the table, and in an instant Sam had the cork out andhad poured some of its contents down his friend's throat. 

The generous fluid warmed the blood and revived the strength of thewounded detective, who, making another attempt, stood on his feet. 

Throwing his arm around Chip's waist, Sam bade the thoroughly cowedwoman to go before him, and was moving slowly to the door when a sharp, stern voice commanded;

"Stop!"

The detectives looked up, and standing in the open door, a revolver ineach hand, stood Jim Cummings. 

CHAPTER XI. 

A MIDNIGHT FLIGHT. 

THE two detectives were in a tight fix. One of them sorely wounded; theother, handicapped by his almost helpless comrade, would stand smallchance against the burly man who checked their path. But Sam, who wasnearly as large in build as was his opponent, and in an even fight, would not have hesitated to bear down upon him, slipped his arm fromaround Chip, and prepared himself for a desperate struggle. 

As his arm passed his side pocket, he felt his revolver. Keeping Chipbefore him, he slipped his hand onto it, and drew it out, Chip keepingCummings from observing the movements. The scent of approaching dangerhad acted on Chip as a strong restorative, and his eyes met those of hislate captor unflinchingly as he cried:

"We know you now, Jim Cummings; you've betrayed yourself, " and Chipagain looked at the triangular gold which his parted lips disclosed onone of his teeth. 

Up to this moment the desperado had imagined himself to be unknown, butat the words Chip uttered, he started, and with eyes burning with rage, and features twitching with fury, he turned to Nance, who, still underthe spell of complete terror, was huddled in a corner, her hands overher face, not daring to meet the outlaw's eye. 

"Ah, " he hissed, "you did this, " and like a flash his revolver coveredher, and the whip-like report rang out. The answering voice of Sam'spistol echoed the first, and when the smoke had lifted, Cummings haddisappeared. 

Without stopping to look after the hag, Sam lifted Chip in his arms, andhastily descended the stairs, It was dark when the alley was reached, and slowly walking to the corner, a hack was called and the two friendsdrove rapidly towards Sam's boarding-place. 

Stopping but just a second to tuck his friend in bed, Sam hastened tothe Central Police Station and, in a few words, placed the case beforethe chief. The sergeant in charge at the time detailed five men toreturn with the detective. The house was entered and searched frombasement to garret, but the birds had flown. The worn condition of thesteps leading to the roof attracted Sam's attention, and furtherinvestigation disclosed the fact that this scuttle-way was the means ofexit. Sam thus ascertained why his long, weary watch had been fruitless. 

After Cummings fired at the fortune-teller he turned quickly and ran upthe steps to the roof of the house and so escaped through the vacantdwelling which faced the street. Believing that the old woman had eitherbetrayed him or had been frightened into giving the desired informationhe decided to "vamoose the ranch" and that quickly. Moriarity must trustto his own good luck, for time was pressing and to save himself he musttake an immediate departure. 

A thousand schemes passed through his head and a hundred disguisespresented themselves to him as he hurried toward his room. Side streetsand back alleys were taken and more than once he doubled on his track toascertain if he was followed. Satisfied that, as yet, no one was on histrack, Cummings allowed his fears to vanish. He was still safe and if hecould only reach his "den" in safety he could lay low until the firstwind had blown over. He knew that in a short time the whole city wouldbe scoured for the noted Jim Cummings, and he laughed derisively as hethought of the open manner he had moved in the town since the robbery. No disguise had been attempted, no great secrecy and if it had not beenfor the unfortunate affair of the cooper-shop, he might have lived therefor years without any suspicions being directed toward him. Although hehad moved so openly and boldly he had kept to himself, not even tellingMoriarity the location of his residence. To this place he now hurried. It was a large room in a first-class boarding-house whose landlady andboarders would have been horror-stricken had they known that "Mr. Williams, " the jolly, good-natured young fellow who had proved such avaluable acquisition to their after-dinner gatherings, was the desperatefree-booter who had walked away with the valuable express package. 

Cummings was no ordinary robber. Endowed by nature with cool nerves, anactive brain and athletic frame, he had all the requirements necessaryto make a successful and daring criminal. That he was so the precedingpages have testified. Now that he was threatened with discovery, he didnot rush blindly into danger by attempting to flee from it, but he didthe exact opposite. 

He knew that every train would be watched, that telegrams would stretchout in all directions, and the detectives, now on a hot scent, wouldcrowd him night and day. All these thoughts passed through his mind, ashe leaned back in a comfortable chair and puffed his Havana. And hedecided it would be best to remain closely to his room until the hue andcry had subsided, and play invalid. 

For a week he stirred not from the house. And then thinking the firstheat had passed, he commenced strolling out after dark. 

One evening, having lighted a cigar, he was walking leisurely up theavenue, all fears of discovery set at rest by his fancied security, whenhis dream was rudely disturbed by a hand placed lightly on his shoulder. Quick as a panther, he sprang to one side, placing himself on thedefensive, and his hand upon his pistol ready for any emergency. Hisstartled gaze met a pitiful sight. Ragged and tattered, his hands, trembling and face blanched with the first touch of delirium tremens, stood Oscar Cook. Tottering up to Cummings, he whispered in tremuloustones:

"Jim, they're after me. They most nabbed me. Save me, Jim, save me!"

Alarmed lest the poor wretch would attract attention, Cummings placedhis arm around him, and half-carrying, half-dragging him, bore him tohis room. Slipping the latch of the door, he turned up the gas. 

Cook sank into a chair, his elbows on his knees and his face buried inhis hands. Every muscle was twitching, his eyes, staring stonily ahead, were bloodshot and fevered. Horror was printed on his face, and hisfingers, curved like bird's claws, moved spasmodically over his head. 

"They're after me, Jim, they're after me, " he repeated, again and again. 

Greatly disturbed by the sudden appearance of the wretched Cook, Cummings hardly knew how to meet the emergency. If he kept Cook withhim, the tremens would come on, and in the delirium of the frenzy Cookwould probably say something which would betray Cummings. On the otherhand, if he left the house to place Cook in some safe quarters, hecourted detection. 

He was in a tight box, and this, with the events which had just occurredand his close call of the week previous, made him somewhat nervous. Ashe looked at the miserable wretch before him he saw that he wore thehigh-heeled boots and spurs of the cowboys, who make Kansas City arendezvous. In an instant his course was plain and he proceeded toexecute it. 

Handing Cook a large glass full of brandy, he bade him drink it. Thehalf-crazed man needed no urging, but clutching the glass he drank itdown greedily. Its effect was almost instantaneous. His face lost thehorrible expression, his fingers straightened out, and the tremblingceased. Cummings watched him closely, and knowing that the liquor wouldonly sustain him for a short time, he said:

"Cook, where's your horse?"

"Down at the livery stable on the next block. "

"Can you get me one at the same place?"

"Yes, a good one, too. "

"We must get out of here. The place is too hot for us. All the trainsare watched, so we must leave a-horseback. Go get your horse, hire onefor me, and we'll vamoose at once. "

Cook started up with alacrity, for as long as the brandy was potent thetremens would not effect him. 

Cummings hastily changed his apparel, putting on a pair of high bootsand over them the fringed leather chapparels. A wide sombrero replacedthe derby hat, and when fully costumed he had on the business rig of atypical cow-boy. 

He had hardly completed these arrangements when the noise of horse-hoofson the pavement was heard. Opening the shutter Cummings waved his hand, and placing his revolver in the holster ran down the steps. 

He had written a note to his landlady saying that pressing business ofthe most urgent kind had suddenly called him out of town, and it wasuncertain when he could return. This he left on the table and thelandlady saw him no more. 

The horses were fresh, and striking into a canter the two men made forthe open country. The excitement and motion combined with the bracingair drove the fumes of the liquor from Cook's head, and before manymiles had been passed he was comparatively free from the terrible maladywhich threatened to consume him. 

The suburbs were passed, and under the clear sky and bright stars, thewilling horses spurned the frozen mud from beneath their feet as theyflew, neck and neck, down the road. Neither men had spoken a word sincethe start, but sitting low in the saddle, gave the horses loose reinsnor checked them an instant. 

They had left the road and were speeding over the frozen prairie, skirting a small clump of scrub oak, when just before them, a solitaryhorseman could be seen, leisurely walking his steed. At the suddenappearance of the stranger, both men instinctively reined in theirhorses and pulled up short. The man at that moment, heard them, andgiving a hasty look backward, drove his spurs into his horse, dashedforward at full speed. 

In sheer deviltry, Cummings did likewise, followed by Cook, and gavechase to the flying horseman. It was nearly dawn. The gray light wasbrightening the landscape, and, observing his game more closely, Cummings saw something familiar in his form; and when he glanced overhis shoulder to see his pursuers, the heavy mustache could be seen, evenin that uncertain light. 

Placing his fingers to his lips, Jim gave three whistles, two short andone long sounds. The shrill tones reached the stranger, who turned halfaround in his saddle and saw Cummings waving his hat. Checking his speedsomewhat he allowed the distance between them to become less, butholding his horse well in hand, if any signs of treachery were observedhe could have some chance of escaping. 

As the two men swept toward him they cried as in one voice:"

"Moriarity!"

Moriarity, for such it was, immediately drew up his horse and the threefriends were soon shaking hands. 

"The fly-cops made it too hot for me, boys, " said Dan. "I came within anace of being caught. One of the beaks had his hands on me, but I knockedhim down and lit out. "

"Where are you bound for now?" asked Cummings. 

"Down to Swanson's ranche. "

"We were heading the same way, " said Cummings. 

Swanson's ranche, situated in the northeastern part of the IndianTerritory, near Coulby's Bluff, was about one hundred and fifty milessouth of Kansas City. The rolling prairie which stretched between wasinterspersed with ranches, and an occasional small town, but for thegreater part was wild and uninhabited. 

Swanson, an Americanized Norwegian, had married a Cherokee squaw, whichenabled him to locate in the Indian country. His reputation was none ofthe best, but his unscrupulous character and well-known skill with theWinchester caused him to be feared, and an officer of the law wouldthink twice before making any attempts to disturb him. It was at thisplace that the three fugitives were seeking refuge. 

The sun had risen, and it was broad day when Cummings, who naturallytook the lead, commanded a halt. 

A clump of cotton-wood trees on the verge of a small, shallow creekoffered a good camping ground. 

Hobbling their horses, after taking the saddles from them, they allowedthem to graze at will, and the party busied themselves in collectingwood for a fire. 

A few sheep which had escaped from some ranch were grazing near thespot, and Moriarity, who had his Winchester, dropped one by a well-directed ball back of the shoulder. 

The warm fleece was taken from the still quivering body, and theappetizing smell of mutton steaks reminded the hungry men that thebreakfast hour had long since passed. The meal over, nature asserted herclaims, and the thoroughly tired-out travelers wrapped themselves intheir blankets and fell asleep. 

They were not disturbed, for the trail which they had taken was seldomtraveled over, and it was late in the afternoon when they were once moreon their way. 

The trail led over the beds of dried-up streams, and skirted thenumerous patches of scrub oak and cotton-wood trees which were scatteredall over the prairie. The long prairie grass sometimes brushed the feetof the horsemen, and coveys of prairie chickens flew up and scurriedaway as the three outlaws galloped past. Mile after mile was leftbehind, the tough Indian ponies they bestrode keeping the tireless lopefor which they are noted without slacking the pace or becomingexhausted. The three riders were expert horsemen, and had beenaccustomed to the saddle almost from infancy. 

Little was said and few words spoken by the men as they skimmed over theprairie save to call attention to some obstacle in the way, or to somechange in the trail, which stretched before them plain and distinct. 

The few Indians and half-breeds they met paid no attention to them, thinking them to be cowboys bound for their camp, and in fact they didresemble those hardy specimens of plainsmen who range this countryherding cattle or sheep. 

When the chill of the night had set in, Cummings ordered a second halt, and the horses, hobbled, commenced to graze on the short buffalo-grasswhich spread underfoot. The remainder of the carcass of mutton whichMoriarity had shot had been strapped back of his saddle, and was now cutup into suitable sizes for the fire which Cook had built. The meat, laidon the glowing embers, was soon cooked and, their hunger appeased, themen, wrapped in their blankets, their feet to the fire, composedthemselves for slumber. 

The long hours of the night passed on, the fire had died out, whenCummings, awakened by a sudden feeling of chilliness, rose to his feetand piled some twigs and branches together to make a blaze. As hestooped to the ground the faint, far-off beats of horses' hoofs reachedhis quick ear. 

"Dan! Cook! Wake up! Get up lively!" he cried, as he made a dash for hissaddle and threw it on his horse. "They are after us. "

The camp was instantly in commotion, the saddles thrown over the horsesand tightened with ready and experienced hands, and vaulting into thesaddles the three men rode out into the bright moonlight as a company often men, armed to the teeth, swept like a whirlwind around the edge ofthe timber. 

A yell reached the ears of the three fugitives as they galloped out onthe prairie and a voice, clear and commanding, rang out in tonesfamiliar to Moriarity, who had heard them in the cooper-shop when thetramp commanded him to hold out his hands. 

"There they are lads. Forward!"

Uttering a deep round oath Dan turned in his saddle, giving the horsethe head, and leveling his rifle fired point-blank at the pursuingparty. 

A cry of derision greeted the shot, and Cummings, saying "Hold yourshots, you fool, " drove his spurs cruelly into the horse's flanks and, followed closely by his companions, dashed down the trail towardSwanson's ranche. 

CHAPTER XII. 

THE PURSUIT. 

Chip and Sam were not the only Pinkerton men in Kansas City at this timeengaged on the Adams Express robbery case, for from the time Cook awokefrom the drunken stupor in which Cummings and Moriarity found him at thecooper-shop on the night when Chip was captured he had been shadowedconstantly by Barney, who with Chip had found the letter heads inFotheringham's trunk. 

Day and night had Barney followed him, and he was but a short distancebehind when Cummings took Cook on the verge of the delirium tremens tohis room. 

When Cook came back with the horses and with Cummings rode away, Barneyhastened to Chip, who, fully recovered from the terrible blow on thehead, had again assumed his duties, and reported the fact to him. 

Sam, who was on the lookout for Moriarity, was notified at once, and thethree detectives, laying the matter before the chief of police, werefurnished with seven mounted men armed to the teeth, and all of them oldTexas rangers. 

This formidable troop had left the city scarcely an hour after therobbers had started. The direction they took and the nature of thecountry pointed to Swanson's ranche as the point for which the outlawswere making. 

All night long the posse rode, and had they not taken a wrong trail, would have caught up to the robbers at their first camp. 

Retracing their path, a short halt only was made, saddle girths weretightened, the rifles closely inspected, and Chip, giving the cry of"Forward, " led the company on the hot scent. 

Like a good general, Chip spread his men to the right and left of thetrail, so that in moving forward a wide swath of country was swept. 

The first camp which the outlaws had made was discovered by the scout onthe left flank. Raising the Texan yell, the rank closed in and gatheredaround the spot. 

One of the men, an old Indian hunter, burnt by the sun to living bronze, and scarred by the many hand-to-hand conflicts he had had with the redsavages, leaped from his horse, his keen eyes fastened to the ground, read the signs which the outlaws had left as if they were printed words. 

Pointing to the fire and the remnants of the burnt meat and bones nearit, he said:

"They ain't more'n three hours ahead of us, and there's more than thetwo. Three fellars ate their grub here this morning. "

"How do you make that out?" said Chip. 

"Well, Cap'n, I've fit Ingins and herded cattle more'n twenty year, offan' on, and if there ain't been three men here not over three hour ago, I lose my reckonin'. See here, in this soft place where the sun hasmelted the ground a bit, is hoof-marks, and they belong to threedifferent horses. "

"Perhaps they stole a horse?"

"Mebbe so, and mebben't so. I reckon it mebben't so. Cause why? Thefellar as walked over this patch wore boots and spurs, long rowels on'em, too. See where they cut the mud. Here is another one, a dernedsight smaller foot, and here is one that had a sharp heel. No, Cap'n, they picked up a man somewhar along the road. "

To this the others who had come out with the detectives gave theirunqualified assent, and Chip cried:

"Three hours ahead is a good lead on us, boys. We must climb along. "

The command was again given, and, rendered more eager and enthusiasticby the knowledge that only thirty miles was between them and their game, the men moved forward with a cheer. 

Another short halt was made for supper and the trail was again coveredjust as the robbers had about commenced to sleep. A sharp lookout wasmaintained and the bright light of the full moon turned night into dayand made the task so much the easier. 

As they rode around the edge of the timber in which Cummings and hiscompanions were secreted they had no suspicion that they had gained sorapidly on the flying renegades, so that the sudden appearance of themen for whom they were searching somewhat surprised them. Giving theirpeculiar yell they pressed forward with a great burst of speed, not evenchecking the gait when the ball which Moriarity sent whistled over them. 

Instantly several rifles were leveled at the flying robbers, and had notChip commanded them not to shoot it would have fared ill with JimCummings and his companions. 

With the speed of the wind the horses flew down the trail, the rapidhoof beats rang out on the still night and sent the slinking coyoteshowling to their lairs. Just peering above the horizon could be seen thedark outlines of Goody's Bluff, fifteen miles away, and if Cummingscould but reach its shadow he was safe, even from the posse which waspursuing him, for he would then be in the Indian Territory. Looking backat his pursuers, who in a solid group were following him so closely thathe could almost distinguish their features, so bright was the night, hesaw that their horses were not driven at the full height of their speed, but were rather being held back. Alarmed at this he communicated hisfears to his companions, who, one on each side, were bending forward inthe saddle, urging and caressing their horses to get all there was outof them, and right gamely did the stanch animals respond to the touch ofthe spur or pat of the hand, as they beat out mile after mile behindthem, the hoof-beats echoed by the flying party behind. With startingeye-balls eagerly fixed on the dim outlines of the bluff, the hunted menwatched it grow larger and more distinct, and hope began to revive intheir breasts when a sharp "ping" of a rifle, followed by the whistle ofthe ball passing over their heads broke the silence of the wordlesschase. 

As with one impulse, each man threw himself flat on his horse's neck, but did not for an instant relax speed or spur. Another shot followed, and Chip's voice, ringing and clear, shouted:

"If you don't halt, we'll shoot your horses. "

"Shoot and be damned, " said Jim Cummings, almost exultingly, as he drewhis revolver from his belt. "Two can play at that game, " and drawing ahasty bead on Chip, he pulled the trigger. 

Chip's horse, giving a convulsive leap to one side, staggered a little, and fell behind, but was soon in the lead again, apparently unhurt. 

"Boys, " shouted Cummings, "d'ye see that dry creek bed. On the otherside we're safe, " The pursuing posse, hearing these words, and knowingtheir full import, gave spurs to their horses, and the distance betweenthe two parties closed up so rapidly that the three outlaws could hearthe heavy breathing of the following horses. 

Their own animals began to show signs of distress, and the dry creek bedwas still a long, long distance off. 

Nearer and nearer crept Chip and his men, the thirteen men, pursuers andpursued, was almost in one party. Chip, who lead, and Cummings, who rodebehind his comrades, were not a horse's length apart. 

Slowly the gallant beast Chip bestrode pushed forward, gaining little bylittle until his nose almost reached the flank of Jim's steed. 

"Jim Cummings, do you surrender?" and the sharp click of a revolver washeard. 

With a malignant scowl Cummings half turned in his saddle, and saying:

"No, damn me, no; not while I live, " placed his revolver at the head ofChip's mount and sent the ball crashing to its brain. 

Down in its tracks shot the noble steed, the dark, rich blood jettingfrom the ghastly hole, and deluging Chip with its crimson flood. 

Chip, with the address of an experienced horseman, had lighted upon hisfeet, his revolver still clutched in his hand. 

The sudden fall of the leading horse had caused the remainder of theparty to haul up short to avoid running horse and rider down. This leftthe road clear before him, and Chip, dropping on his knee took a longcareful sight at Cummings and fired. 

A sudden swerve of Jim's horse saved him, but uttering a cry of pain, Cook's steed, struck in a vital point, stopped short, and trembling inevery limb slowly sank to the ground. Cook, taken so unexpectedly, hadshot over his horse's head, and now lay, unconscious, in the center ofthe trail, his two companions, driving the spurs deeper into the flanksof their almost exhausted animals, dashed down the banks of the dividingline and stood safe on Indian Territory. 

The unconscious Cook was at once surrounded by the detectives and posse, and a generous dose of brandy poured down his throat brought him to hissenses. 

Chagrined beyond measure at the escape of his man, just when he wasabout to put his hand on him, and at the loss of his horse, Chip was inno humor to allow a technical boundary line to keep him from capturinghis men, who, riding around the edge of an elevation on the prairie werenow lost to sight. 

"Brodey, " he said, turning to the ranger who had been the guide of theexpedition from the time it started from Kansas City, "how far is it toSwanson's ranche?"

"A matter of twenty-five miles, as the crow flies. "

"How far by the trail?"

"Well, Cap'n, " responded Brodey, reflectively, as he threw his knee overthe pommel of his saddle, "lemme see. The trail goes by that there beltof timber, then jines the stage-road to Allewe, an' follows that apiece, then it shunts off to the west straight for the bluff thar, purtynearly a bee-line. Thirty mile, sure--mebbe less. "

"Is that the Indian Territory 'tother side of the divide?"

"Jesso--Cherokee Nation. "

"What sort of a man is this Swanson?"

"Half-buffalo, half-painter, an' other half crocodile. He's wuss than ahalf-breed Apache, an would as soon shoot a man as to drink, an'Swanson's a right powerful punisher of the whisky-jug. "

"Yes! yes! I know all that, but is he cunning, shrewd, sharp, you know?"

"Got eyes like an Injun, ears like a coyote an' a nose sharp as a gophersnake. "

"He must be a tough combination, but I'll do it, all the same. "

"Do what, Chip?" asked Sam. 

"Go down to Swanson's and bring in my man. "

"Bars and buffler skins, " cried Brodey. "You don't mean to say that youwill do such a blame fool thing as that. Sho!"

"Not alone, Chip, " said Sam. "I go with you. "

"See hyar, young fellers, " expostulated Brodey. "Do ye know what yourdoin'! Got any idee ye'll come back alive! I've been in some toughplaces before now, but shoot my worthless carcass if I want to go toSwanson's. He's killed a man, torn out his heart and eaten it raw, fer afact. "

"Pshaw, who would believe such a yarn as that, man. "

"Swar to gosh it's true, " continued Brodey. "I don't believe thar's aman in the States what's got as much devil to thar square inch as thisman Swanson. Better not go, Cap'n. I'd hate tremendous to have youkilled. "

Chip laughed lightly, as he stroked the neck of the Ranger's horse, andsaid:

"Brodey, I've been a detective for five years, and in those five yearsI've looked almost sure death in the face more than a score of times. Ihave seen the knife raised which was to be buried in my heart the nextsecond. I have felt the revolver spit its flames plump in my face. Ihave been tied hand and feet and laid across the rail, with a lightningexpress train not over a thousand feet off, coming down like the wind, and I am a live man to-day. The man isn't born yet that can kill me. "

Chip said all this in a modest tone and no signs of braggadocio, for itwas all true, and his listeners knew he was telling facts by his bearingand manner. 

"Yes, " broke in Sam, "and I was with you on several of these occasions, and what's more, I shall be with you on this one you are planning. "

"I want you should be--but enough of this talk. We can do nothing morenow. Our men have given us the slip. Dismount, boys, and give the nags abreathing spell. "

Cook, by this time, had regained his senses, and was sitting up in themiddle of the trail rubbing his shoulder and wearing a most woebegoneand dazed look upon his expressive countenance. Observing this, Chipwalked toward him, and imitating a drunken stagger, sang:

"Drink, puppies, drink; let every puppy drink, That's old enough tostand and to swallow. "

As the first strains fell on his ears, Cook started, and regarding Chipwith questioning eyes, inquired:

"Who are you fellows anyway; can't you let peaceable travelers alonewithout shooting their horses?"

"Oh! you were peaceable travelers, were you? Well, now, that's strange, we took you to be some horse thieves that have been skurrying aroundthese parts lately. "

"Do you think I look like a horse-thief?" indignantly. 

"Is that your own horse?"

"Not exactly. I hired--"

"Ah! yes, you hired it--they all say that--you hired it some time agoand have forgotten to pay the bill--"

"Well, I didn't either, I hired it for a week, and--"

"Really, Mr. Cook, you were going to make quite a visit--"

"My name ain't Cook. "

"No? Let us call you Mr. Cook just for the sake of the argument. It's agood name, is Cook. I used to know a fellow named Cook once. He had acooper-shop on the east bottoms, Kansas City. I went over to see him aweek or so ago, and we had a high old time I can assure you. Cook was avery amusing gentleman. He could sing like Brignoli. What was that songhe could sing so nicely? Oh! yes, I have it. "

"For we'll pass the bottle 'round When we've--"

"The tramp!" ejaculated Cook looking at Chip with amazement. 

"The same, at your service, Mr. Cook, for that is your name, isn't it?"

"I'm caught, " confessed the puzzled Cook. "What are you making game ofme for? What do you want me for?"

"Nothing, nothing. We were afraid you might prolong your anticipatedvisit to such a length that we grew homesick for you, so I got some ofthe boys together, a sort of a picnic, you know, to ask you not to staytoo long, " bantered Chip. "We really can't take 'no' for an answer, Mr. Cook, really you must consider our feelings and return with us. "

"I guess I can't help myself, " said Cook grimly. 

"It does look a little that way, don't it?"

Cook shook his head as he arose to his feet, and stooping over his deadhorse unloosed the girth and drew off the saddle, nor did he make anyobjection when Chip secured his revolver and ammunition belt. Escape wasentirely cut off from him and he accepted his capture in a resignedspirit, because he could not help himself. 

"Brodey, how far is the railroad from here?"

"About fifteen miles over thar, " pointing toward the east, "Blue Jacketlies thar, and is on the Missouri, Kansas and Texas. "

"We'll make for it. You take the prisoner behind you and I will mountwith Sam. "

The cavalcade were soon in motion, leaving the dead horses to bedevoured by the buzzards and coyotes which were already beginning togather around. 

Arriving at Blue Jacket, the party left Chip and his prisoner, andturning to the north cantered off for Kansas City. 

CHAPTER XIII. SWANSON'S RANCHE--THE DETECTIVES IN ROBBER'S RETREAT--THESUCCESS OF THE DOCTOR--ANOTHER ROBBERY PLANNED. 

In the center of a beautiful valley, with high, rugged bluffs rising onall sides, and intersected by a clear stream of spring water, which fellin tiny cascades and little waterfalls, turning and twisting like asilver snake, stood Swanson's Ranche. The low frame building, surroundedon four sides by a wide porch, and standing on a gentle elevation whichfell away to the creek, was the home of the redoubtable Swanson, who wasmonarch of all he surveyed for miles around. The evening was rapidlyadvancing into night, and the large open fireplace, huge and yawning, was roaring with the cheerful fire which Swanson's obedient squaw hadbuilt, that her liege lord might not be chilled by the cold wind whichwhistled over the plains. 

The floor of the large room, covered with fur rugs and huge buffalo-skins, was made of pounded clay, and the feet of many years had hardenedit to almost stone-like solidity. 

Saddles, lariats, rifles, high boots, and all the trappings and harnessbelonging to a cowboy's outfit littered the place, and stretched out onthe robes and furs, in easy, careless attitudes, lay some half-dozenmen. 

Jim Cummings and Dan Moriarity were of the number. Thick clouds oftobacco smoke curled and eddied to the low ceiling, and seated near thefire to get the benefit of the light were a couple of card-playingranchmen, indulging in a game of California Jack. 

Standing with his back to the blaze, his feet spread apart, and hishands deep in his pockets, stood the owner of the ranche--Swanson. Castin a Herculean mold, he stood over six feet tall, his broad shoulderssurmounted by a neck like a bull, and his red, cunning face, almost hidfrom sight by the thick, bushy whiskers which covered it. 

He had been relating, with great gusto, some adventure in which he hadplayed a prominent part, and raising his broad hand in the air hebrought it down on a table near him, as he exclaimed:

"And if any detective comes skulking around this shanty, I swear I'llcut out his sneaking heart, and make him eat it raw"--when the sound ofhorses broke the thread of his discourse, and a voice was heardshouting:

"Hello-o-o, the house!"

"Yes, an be right smart about it, dis chile most froze. "

A young fellow near the door sprang to open it, and thrusting his headout, said:

"Come in, there's no dogs around. "

"Dats all right, honey, we ain't got no fear of de hounds, me an' theDoctor ain't. "

"Keep quiet, you black imp, " said the voice which had first been heard, "Hobble the nags and bring in my saddle, boys. "

"All right, sah; I's hearin' you, sah. "

To this conversation, which had taken place outside, the men in the roomhad listened with great interest. Anything was welcome that served tobreak the monotony of ranche life, and a stir of expectation wentthrough the room as the two strangers were heard dismounting. 

The door opened and the new-comers entered. 

"By the great horn spoon if this ain't the old hoss doctor hisself!"exclaimed Swanson, as he reached out his huge paw. "I thought theApaches had lifted your scalp years ago. "

"You can't kill a good hoss doctor, Swanson, " replied the Doctor, grasping the offered hand and giving it a hearty shake. "Good hossdoctors don't grow on every bush. "

"Boys, " said Swanson, turning the Doctor around. "This hyar gentlemanis Doctor Skinner--"

"Late graduate of the Philadelphia Veterinary Surgical Institute. Haspractised in seventeen States and four Territories. Can cure anything onhoofs, from the devil to the five-legged broncho of Arizona, which hasfour legs, one on each corner, and one attached to his left flank. Withit, he can travel faster than the swiftest race horse, and when huntedby the native red men, he throws it over his neck, and smiles urbanelyupon his baffled pursuers. "

Swanson roared with delight as the Doctor rolled this off his tongue, and slapping him on the back, cried:

"You're the same old codger. Haven't changed an inch in seven years. You've got to stay here a week, two weeks, a month. I've plenty of sickstock, and some of the boys have horses that need polishing. "

"Yes, sah!" broke in the Doctor's companion, a full-blooded negro. "We'sgwine to camp down hyar shuah a monf--"

"Hold your tongue, Scip, " said the Doctor. "I'm the talking man here. Yes! gentlemen, " addressing the attentive cowboys, "I can cure anythingthat touches the ground--biped, quadruped, or centipede--glanders, botts, greased hoofs, heaves, blind staggers, it makes no odds. Myuniversal, self-acting, double compound elixir of equestrian ointmentwill perform a cure in each and every case. It is cheap! It is sure! Itis patented! It is the best, and it is here. You may roll up, you maytumble up, you may walk up, any way to get up, or send your money up, and you will receive a two-quart bottle of this precious liquid, ofwhich I am the sole owner, proprietor and manufacturer. "

Again Swanson expressed his unbounded delight, and the audiencesignified their entire approbation by shouting:

"Go it, old hoss; keep it up!"

When the doctor first entered, Cummings, who was extended on a largebear skin, fastened a searching look on him, taking in every feature andarticle of wearing apparel, and Moriarity, who was stretched near him, regarded the new-comer with suspicious eyes, but when they witnessed thecordial greeting which Swanson gave, they dismissed their suspicions andentering into the spirit of the evening, applauded as loudly and noisilyas the rest. 

Scip, who had been attending to the horses outside, now stuck his headthrough the door and shouted:

"Tole you what it was, Massa Doctor, dis yer chile can't tote dat bundlein alone, nohow. "

"All right, Scip, I'll help you, " and disregarding, with a wave of hishands, the proffers of assistance which were tendered him, the doctorstepped onto the porch and found Scip struggling with a large pack, strapped to the back of a broncho, tugging and jerking, and swearingunder his breath at "the old fool rope. "

Coming close to him the doctor said aloud:

"Be careful you black imp of Satan; what are you so rough about?" andthen followed in a whisper, "the men are both there, Chip. "

Scip, or rather, Chip, adopting the same tactics, replied:

"Honey, I's handlin' dis yeah smoof as cottonseed oil"--whispering, "what a rascally-looking lot. "

The Doctor and Scip were none other than the two detectives. When Chipreached Kansas City he hunted around for some suitable disguise whichwould carry him through in safety. In his perplexity he went to thechief of police, with whom he was on the most friendly terms, and putthe case before him. 

The chief said:

"About seven years ago there used to be an old fraud named Skinner, asort of horse-doctor, who stepped somewhat over the line and walked offwith some other fellow's nag. He is now putting in his time at JeffersonCity. He was hale fellow well met with all that gang, especiallySwanson, and I think if you could run down to Jefferson City, put thecase before the warden, you could get pointers from him. "

That afternoon Chip was in Jefferson City, and walking over to thepenitentiary, found the warden willing, and Skinner was called to thevisitor's cage, He had three years more to serve, and, on being told that any service hecould render the State would be taken into account and to his credit, hegave Chip a minute and detailed description of his costume, manner ofdoing business, and brought up many interesting reminiscenses, whichChip carefully noted. 

Sam, who had a peculiar talent for disguises, was to take the part ofDoctor Skinner, and Chip as his negro servant could slip in and outwithout attracting much attention. 

It was in these assumed characters that the detectives made their entreinto Swanson's habitat. 

Further private conversation was barred by the massive form of Swansonfilling the door, and urging his friend the Doctor to let "his nigger"take charge of the stock. 

"Can't be did, colonel, " said the Doctor, "can't be trusted alone nearthis pack. Scip has too much love for the bottom of the flask to allowhim too much freedom here. "

"Well, I'll send one of the boys out. Hyar, you, Abe; mosey out thar andyank that pack in hyar. "

Abe, a strong, strapping young plainsman, lifted the pack to hisshoulder, and, followed by the "Easy, young man; step lightly; glass, you know; this side up with care, " of the doctor, deposited it upon thefloor. 

Opening the pack the Doctor held aloft a large square bottle, on whichwas pasted a yellow label, "Dr. Skinner's Incomparable Horse Healer, "commenced rapidly to dilate upon the peculiar excellence of the nostrum. 

"Gentleman, what is good for the noble brute is good for man. Thiscompound, this superior selection of seventeen separate solvents iswarranted to dissipate the most chronic complaints. It will inciteslumber, mend the broken heart, cause the hair to grow, is good forchapped hands, sore eyes and ingrowing toe-nails. It is a panacea forall evils and a trial will cost you nothing. "

He passed the bottle to Swanson, who stood listening to his glib tonguein amused wonder, and invited him to test the medicine. Nothing loth, the giant took a huge drink. 

"Whisky, " he shouted, joyfully, "the real, old stuff, " and smacking hislips he again applied them to the bottle. It was passed around, and thedoctor at once became the most popular man on the ranche. 

Scip, who had finally succeeded in securing his horses to hissatisfaction, during which time he had made a tour of the premises andobtained the lay of the land, now entered the room and pushing his waythrough the crowd gathered around the Doctor and his bottle of "cureall, " spread his hands to the fire, standing beside Cummings. 

"Where did you pick up the darkey, Doctor?" inquired Swanson, designating Scip by a jerk of his thumb. 

"The hard fact is, gentlemen, that we picked each other up. I was 1907and Scip was 1908. 

"How's that?"

"I repeat. I was 1907 and Scip was 1908. "

"You mean to say you were doing--"

"Simply that and nothing more, I found a halter in the road one day andpicked it up, carrying it with me, and it wasn't until a most officiousindividual in blue coat and brass buttons came along and rudely placed apair of exquisite steel bracelets on my delicate wrists, that I learnedthat a horse was tied at the other end of the halter, and the gentlemanwho is supposed to dispense justice in Kansas City urged me to remove toJefferson City for a time; that is all. The number of my room was 1907and my colored friend here had the apartment next to mine. "

"Yah, yah, " laughed Scip, "we bof did our time together, suah. "

This new claim on Swanson's friendship had its effect, and the generousquantities of whisky which he had swallowed having put him into anextraordinary good humor, he threw his arms around the doctor and vowedhe would keep him all his life. 

Thus the two detectives by a bold piece of strategy, had gained entranceto the express robbers' asylum and had been offered the right hand offellowship. The evening wore on, cards were produced, and the click ofthe ivory poker chips was heard above the low hum of conversation. Thedoctor did not care to take a hand, and Scip, apparently tired out withhis day's journey, had thrown himself on a buffalo-robe in a corner, andseemed fast asleep. 

The Doctor, his eyes half closed, and slowly puffing his pipe, closelyand keenly eyed every face in the room; but most of all, he gazed atSwanson, who, partly overcome by liquor, was leaning back in an easy, cane-bottomed chair, looking into the fire. A malignant frown, ever andanon, knit his low brow, and his cruel mouth curled so as to show histeeth, as his thoughts passed through his befuddled brain. 

Cummings and Moriarity, who had withdrawn from the main party, had theirheads together, earnestly engaged in conversation. Cummings wasevidently endeavoring to persuade his fainter hearted comrade to dosomething, for he often bent a significant look on Swanson, or pointedhis thumb toward him, but Moriarity, whose eyes were half indicative offear, would shake his head as if in expostulation. 

The Doctor saw all this, through his half-closed eyes and strained hisears to catch even the slightest shred of their consultation, but theoutlaws talked in such low tones that he was unable to hear anything. 

A glance at Skip, who was gently snoring near them, put his mind atrest, for he saw that the darkey was taking in every word that dropped, feigning sleep all the time. A sudden movement by some of the men, roused Swanson, and looking at a huge silver watch, he ordered them allto bed at once. Which command was obeyed by all except Cummings, Moriarity, the Doctor and Scip. 

An inner room, fitted with bunks, was used as the dormitory, but the tworobbers, as special guests had rooms to themselves. Going to a cupboard, and bringing out an armful of blankets, Swanson threw them on the floor. 

"There my hearty, you and your boy will have to camp out here to-night. We're crowded, so make yourself comfortable, " and then bidding them"Good-night, " he staggered to his bed. 

Nothing could suit the detectives better than this. A room tothemselves, a warm fire, plenty of blankets and no suspicions of theirtrue character. 

Smoothing the blankets over the bear skins, the two friends lay down anda whispered conversation commenced. 

"What were Cummings and Moriarity talking about, Chip?" said Sam, in acautious tone. 

"Cummings wants to rob the old man, Swanson. He says he's got thousandsof dollars salted somewhere around here and thinks they might as wellmake hay while the sun shines, but Dan was afraid to do it. "

"What a precious pair of rascals, but we can use this idea first-rate toget them over the line again. "

"I thought of the same thing as they were talking. If you could onlybring it up without awaking any suspicions, we might offer to help himdo the job. "

"Trust me for that, old fellow. Even if we have to commit actualrobbery, I'll do it. "

"Well, keep your eyes open, and don't be caught sleeping. Go to sleep, now. I'll keep first watch. "

This was the regular system of the two operators. While one slept theother kept watch and to this fact a large portion of their success wasdue. 

The ranche became quiet, its denizens all sleeping, and the night passedwithout any disturbance. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

THE DOCTOR TURNS CONSPIRATOR--THE PLOT TO ROB THE RANCHE. 

The pseudo doctor had been at the ranche a week, during which he hadbecome quite chummy with Jim Cummings and Dan Moriarity, who, findingthat time hung very heavy on their hands, welcomed the jovial, story-telling doctor and spent most of their time in his company. 

Swanson, who was moving his stock further west and making preparationsfor the spring round-up, was obliged to be in the saddle all day andsometimes late at night. Although a hard drinker, an unscrupulous rascaland an inveterate gambler, he was a good stock-raiser, and kept goodcare of his cattle. He employed a large force of cowboys or herders, and, acting himself as captain of the round-up, he would absent himselffrom home for days at a time. 

One morning the Doctor, flashing a significant glance toward Scip, whichsaid, "Take your cue and follow me, " remarked in a careless tone:

"I reckon the old man must have considerable dust salted down by thistime. "

As the remark was a general one made to Cummings, Moriarity and Scip, the latter answered:

"Yes, sah; Mass Swanson got a pile of gold laid up for a rainy day, suah. "

The Doctor continued:

"He's had more than the average run of good luck the last few years. Hetold me the other day that he only lost a few head all year, and wasjust going to ship a big lot to Chicago. "

Cummings, blowing a blue column of tobacco smoke toward the rafters, said:

"It's always been a question to me where he keeps his money. There's nobank around here. "

"Oh! he's a shrewd old chap, Swanson is, " replied the Doctor. He has aprivate bank somewhere near here probably. "

"Seems to me that would be pretty risky, " said Cummings. "If he keeps itplanted around here what would hinder some one from finding the cacheand getting off with the plunder?"

"I made that very remark to him, " the Doctor answered; "and he laughedand said it would take something smarter than a cowboy or an Injun tofind it, but there are others beside cowboys and Injuns that come thisway, " with a meaning smile. Cummings noted the smile, and glancing atMoriarity, said:

"How would you go at it, Doctor, if you were to make the attempt?"

The Doctor laughed quietly, as if he appreciated the joke, and leaningback in his chair, his thumbs in the arm-holes of his vest, his feetstretched on a chair before him, he answered:

"Well, Cummings, I don't know as I would like to do it. Swanson's a goodfriend of mine, and--"

"Hang it all, man, who the devil asked you to do it?" replied Jim, hotly. "I was only joking; do you think I wanted you to--"

"Not at all, my dear fellow, not at all, " said the Doctor, in a soothingtone. "No one supposed for a minute that you thought of such a thing, but if I was going to do a job like that I wouldn't care to do it alone. Two, certainly not more than three, more to help would be necessary. Iwould go at it about this way: The first thing would be to find outwhere Swanson kept his money. It is doubtless kept in close proximity tothis place, evidently well secreted, for Swanson is not a man to let hisright hand know what his left hand is doing. I think I would be apt toget him full some evening, then let him win a big pot from me in poker, and, feigning drunkenness, I would watch very keenly what he did withthe money. You may depend on it, it is somewhere in this house. After Iascertained the hiding-place I would surprise the old fellow in hissleep with the aid of my confederates, and gagging him, and then bindinghis arms and feet, would rob his bank at my pleasure. THAT is the way Ishould do it. "

Cummings had followed every word, nodding his approval and manifestinghis interest in various ways, and, without noticing what he was saying, muttered to himself, but so loud that the Doctor overheard it, "Just theway I would do it, and I will yet. "

"What makes you think Swanson keeps his wealth on the premises, Doctor?"asked Moriarity. 

"Safest and most convenient place, " replied the Doctor, "He probably hashad a special hole or cranny made for it, a double wall of some room, behind some picture or something like that. I recollect a chap that hada picture in his room, fastened close to the wall just like that picturethere, " and the Doctor pointed to the only picture in the house, arepresentation of the ranche painted by some wandering artist. "It was apainting of a man's face and by pressing the eye a spring was releasedand the whole picture swung back, showing a cavity back of it in whichthe old miser kept his valuables. "

Scip, who was always cutting some caper, here rose to his feet, saying

"Dunno, but mebbe Massa Swanson keep he truck behind that chromiow. Heahnow, I'se Massa Swanson, " and Scip imitated Swanson's gait, "I'seplayin' poker wid you gemmen. I'se out o' cash; Massa Cummins thar, hegot a king full, and lay ovah my bob-tail flush, I say, 'Hole on thar, Massa Cummins, I'se got to unlock de combinashun of my safe. ' Den I walkovah to de picture, an' I hit a crack with my fist, so Well, I bedamned!"

The rest sprang to their feet in astonishment for, illustrating hisremarks, Scip had struck the center of the oil painting with his hand, and stood dumb-founded, for the picture noiselessly swung forward anddisclosed a large recess in the wall in which little sacks of some sortof money were piled one on the other. Scip, who was evidently the mostsurprised one of the party, was, however, the first to regain hiscomposure. Pushing the frame to its place again the sharp click of thespring lock was heard, and turning swiftly around he caught meaningglances passing between Cummings and Moriarity. 

"Humph!" he said to himself, "Swanson's money is as good as gone nowunless we nab these two rascals soon. "

The Doctor, who had reseated himself, remarked in a tone of wonder, "Really, this is a most remarkable coincidence, most remarkable indeed. "

"Oh! shut up that mummery, Doctor, " broke in Cummings roughly, as hereared his head and squared his shoulders evidently intending to make astrike, "You and your nigger knew all about this, so you may as well ownup. "

The Doctor, receiving a nod from Scip, leaned forward, his eyes fastenedintently on Cummings and his voice sunk to a low whisper, replied:

"And you may as well own up, too. We're all in the same boat. That isjust what you are here for, and if you think I am fool enough to loafaround this hole a week for nothing, it shows you don't know me. I needyou two and you need Scip and myself. Come, is it a bargain?"

In answer Cummings held out his hand. The Doctor grasped it cordiallyand holding his left hand to Moriarity, who took it, said:

"We four, for Scip is my pal, can do it OK, We can--"

"Why not do it now, " said Cummings, with energy. "Our horses are hereand we can put a whole day between us and the ranche before Swansonreturns. "

Now this was just what Sam (the Doctor) did not want. During the weekwhich he and Scip had been spending at the ranche, seven or eight newmen had been taken in by Swanson, who, as was before said, was gettingin shape for the spring round-up. Of these new men six were Pinkertondetectives, and at this particular time were several miles from theranche herding cattle. It was necessary that these men should benotified by Scip of the plot, and be ready to spring the trap as soon asthe game was in the toils. For this reason the Doctor did not want therobbery to occur before the next night at the earliest. So shaking hishead decidedly, he said in an emphatic manner:

"No, it won't do; it would spoil the whole thing. All the money is inthe shape of specie and tied up in bags. We have nothing in which tocarry it, and would have to load it as it is on our horses. Besides, Swanson is expecting a large payment for his last shipment to-day. Iknow this, as he told me so, and we may make ten thousand dollars bywaiting a day longer. "

After some demurring, Cummings acquiesced, although with very bad grace. 

"All right, have it your own way; but no later than to-morrow night. "

"To-morrow night it is, then, " said the Doctor; then, as if struck withsome suspicion, he turned suddenly and said:

"And the Lord have mercy on your soul, Jim Cummings, if you or your mateplay us false. "

"No fear of that, Doctor, " replied the train robber. "You'll find metrue blue at any rate--you're a man after my own heart. I wish I hadknown you sooner. "

"Why?"

"Because, last October I did a little job and was almost nabbed becauseone of my pals weakened. "

Moriarity looked somewhat confused, but apparently not noticing it (butin reality nothing escaped the hawk eyes of the disguised detective) theDoctor said:

"Last October! By Jove, you ARE the Jim Cummings that did up the AdamsExpress Co. The papers were full of it. If there is any man I havewanted to meet it is you. " And the Doctor with great enthusiasm graspedthe express robber's hand with every expression of intense admirationbeaming from his eyes. 

His vanity tickled by this expression of homage, Cummings drew himselfto his full height, and replied:

"Well, yes, I did that work, and if you will stick by me we can workanother one just as good. "

"I'm with you, and when I say 'I, ' it means Scip, too, for he is atreasure. "

Scip ducked his head as he said:

"We's a hull team and a dog under the waggin, but, Massa Doctor, I'segoin' out to look after the bosses, " and he left the room. 

Moriarity, picking up a rifle and cartridge belt, said he was going outfor a canter and see what luck he could have in the way of game. Thisleft Cummings and the Doctor alone. 

Glancing out the window they saw Moriarity gallop off, and a shortdistance behind Scip on his horse, following. 

"Where did you pick up that darkey, Doctor?" asked Cummings. 

"In St. Louis, about five years ago. He is a good one, faithful andbrave, and will never squeal. He is just the man to help us on this newdeal. "

The subject of this conversation was all this time galloping over thelevel prairie, following closely behind Moriarity, who, with his riflethrown across the pommel of his saddle, was on the look out for anythingin the way of game which might come along. 

As they rode along they would meet one of the herders sitting at ease onhis horse, or galloping madly after some refractory steer that wasmaking a break for freedom. They had, in their ride, passed four ofthese men, and to every one Scip gave a signal, merely the wave of hishand in a peculiar manner, to which the men had responded likewise. Theywere nearing another stand, the ranchman, astride his pony, stoodagainst the sky like a bronze bit of sculpture. As they came withinspeaking distance Scip, drawing in his horse, said. 

"I's goin' to loaf aroun' heah a bit, Massa Dan, I'll wait fer you. "

"All right, " responded Dan, who gave his horse the spurs and swiftlydisappeared behind the swell of land. Scip, walking his nag, drew nearthe cowboy. 

"Hye thar, honey, got any 'bacco?"

"Plenty, blacky, plenty, "

"Den give me some. "

"What is it, Chip?" asked the cowboy as Moriarity swept out of sight. 

"We have work to do to-morrow night, Barney, you must get the boystogether, go down the divide to the ford and cross over, ready to comewhen I whistle. To-morrow night we must bag our game. "

"We will be there, Chip, and I am glad of it, for its devilishmonotonous staying out here all day. "

"There will be a break in the monotony that will suit you. Be sure to beat the other side of the ford before twelve to-morrow night. "

Chip then explained to him the details of the projected robbery and theplan of capturing the outlaws as soon as they had crossed into Kansas, for the divide was the southern state line of that state. 

Barney, again repeating his statement that he would be there, loped hishorse after some cattle that was straying too far off, and Chip, orrather Scip, stretching himself on the ground, awaited Moriarity'sreturn. 

They arrived home in time for supper, and found Swanson had returnedfrom Blue Jacket, where he had gone that morning, and the fact that hehad made up beds for the Doctor and Scip in a side room was accepted byCummings as proof that he had received the money he expected and wantedthe room to himself that he might put his wealth behind the pictureunobserved. 

The next day the ranche was deserted save by the four conspirators, whomade preparations for the robbery of Swanson's money which was to takeplace that night. The picture was tried until the proper point fortouching the hidden spring was found. A supply of food was quietlysecreted in a bag and hid near the divide. Some heavy flour sacks madeof canvas were ripped open and suitable bags for carrying the money weremade from the pieces. All these preparations were made withoutinterruption or discovery, and excepting a long ride which Scip made inthe afternoon, ostensibly for the purpose of exercising his horse butreally that he might again see the detectives who were acting ascowboys, the day wore along without any incident out of the ordinaryway. 

CHAPTER XV. 

THE ROBBERY--CUMMINGS' NARROW ESCAPE--THE CAPTURE OF MORIARITY--JIMCUMMINGS SLIPS FROM THE TOILS--MR. PINKERTON TAKES A HAND. 

The ranche was asleep. Heavy breathing and deep snores from thesleeping-rooms indicated that slumber had fallen on all the inmates. Swanson, who had been repeatedly urged to drink by Cummings andMoriarity and had accepted every invitation, was stretched on his back adrunken mass of stupidity. 

The stamping of the horses and distant movements of the thousands ofhead of cattle alone broke the silence of the night and the darkness hadcast its pall over the entire place. 

In the large room Scip and the Doctor coolly and calmly awaited the hourof their triumph. Fear was a stranger to both, and as they quietlyconversed in whispered accents it would be difficult to believe thatthey were about to engage in a most desperate enterprise. In anotherroom lay Cummings and Moriarity, completely dressed. The former, withhis habitual sang froid, was whispering to Moriarity, who, somewhatexcited, was calmed by his companion's nonchalance, and as the hour forthe work drew near became like him. A stealthy step, noiseless as anIndian's, interrupted the conversation, and the faint rap on the doorgave them the long-looked-for signal. 

Creeping on their hands and knees down the hall past Swanson's door, through which his hoarse breathing could be heard, the two men enteredthe room in which the treasure was stored. The dying embers in the fire-place created a dull glow, showing the Doctor and Scip, booted andspurred, standing in the center of the room. Softly Cummings approachedthe picture, his finger found the spring through the canvas and, pressing it hard, the frame swung slowly forward as if reluctant to giveup its precious charge. 

Rapidly taking one bag after another from the cavity Cummings passedthem to Moriarity, who placed them in the bags prepared for them. 

The Doctor and Scip had gone outside and now brought the four horsesnearer the door. This they did that they might have as little to do withthe robbery as possible, and they had so managed it that Jim and Dan haddone the actual theft. 

Moriarity had brought two of the bags which the Doctor had placed on hisown and Scip's horse and had gone back for the third, when the door fromthe inner hall opened, and, his tangled hair hanging in mats over hiseyes, his clothing disarranged, his face purple with rage and a revolverin each hand, Swanson appeared before the surprised robbers. 

The dim light of the fire showed the picture open, and befogged as hisbrain was by the whisky, he realized he was being robbed, and with aroar like a mad bull he sprang upon Cummings. 

Swift as a flash Cummings' fist, sent forward with all the force of hispowerful frame, struck the ranchman under the ear, and tossing his armsabove his head he fell like a dead man on the floor. 

The sound of many feet hurrying to the scene was heard and, leaving thebag which he was about to take when Swanson sprang on him, Cummingsbolted through the door, vaulted on his horse and followed closely byhis companions, rushed swiftly into the darkness. It was none too soon, for at once a half score of men poured from the house, and the vicioussnap of the rifles, followed by the pin-n-n-g of the bullets, as theycut the air close to their heads, caused the four men to drive theirspurs into their ponies until the blood dropped from their laceratedflanks. 

Galloping swiftly to where the herding ponies were tethered, Cummingssprang from his horse and, whipping out his keen bowie knife, cut lariatafter lariat, stampeding the whole herd. This done he remounted hishorse, saying, "NOW, we can take our time. They won't get a horse to saddle under anhour, " cantered off with an easy, strength-saving gait. 

"Curse that Swanson, " broke in Cummings, after riding in silence a fewmoments. "Curse him, he kept me from making an extra ten thousand by hiscursed appearance. "

Neither the Doctor nor Scip replied to this outburst from thedisappointed outlaw. The time for action was coming, and as fast astheir horses could gallop, the two outlaws were riding toward the traplaid for them. Leaning forward, with the skill of an expert pickpocket, Scip drew the revolver from the holster on Cummings' saddle, and droppedit in the dry grass which bordered the trail. Watching his opportunity, he pushed his horse against Moriarity, and in the slight confusioncaused by the collision, he managed to obtain Dan's revolver in the sameway. A whisper told the doctor that this had been done, and thedisguised detectives each rode beside the man which they were tocapture, the Doctor keeping his eye on Cummings and Scip ready to pullMoriarity off his horse at the proper time. 

On the other side of the river, or divide, dark shadows stood under thefew cottonwood trees, motionless and quiet as the grave, their earsstrained to catch the first sound of their quarry, and their handsgrasping the ready revolver. 

The far-off sound of galloping horses warned them that the time to acthad come, and soon the splashing of the water in the creek told them tostand ready. 

The voice of Scip was heard saying in loud tones:

"Heah's de trail, gemmen, ovah dis yah way. "

The scurry of hoofs as the horses clambered up the steep banks, the low-spoken words of encouragement which were given their steeds by therobbers, and suddenly the shrill whistle giving the long-looked-forsignal rang out on the still air. 

As Scip gave the whistle he passed his arm around Moriarity, saying:

"Dan Moriarity, you are my prisoner. "

His words were instantly followed by the rush of the detectives who hadbeen lying in ambush, and Moriarity, taken completely by surprise, threwhis hands above his head in token of surrender, and then passivelysubmitted to having the darbies snapped on his wrists. 

Cummings, at the first note of the vibrating signal, had his eyesopened. His hand flew to his holster, and the mocking laugh of thedetective followed the discovery that his revolver was gone. 

Sam laid his hand on the outlaw's shoulder, and pressing his revolveragainst his head, called on him to surrender. 

Throwing his hands over his head as Moriarity had done, he suddenlybrought his clinched fists full against Sam's temple, putting into theblow the strength of three men. Without a groan the detective's headsank forward, his revolver dropped from his nerveless grasp, and he layunconscious on his horse's back. 

A yell of exultation, and Cummings, turning his horse, dashed down thebank, through the stream, and disappeared in the darkness on the otherside. 

Instantly the detectives followed, leaving two men to guard Moriarity, for in the darkness Sam's condition was not noticed, but seeing thefolly of attempting a pursuit in so dark a night, Chip's whistlerecalled them, and the chagrined and disappointed operatives gatheredaround the cottonwood trees. 

Sam, who had merely been stunned, soon recovered, and with the aid ofsome brandy Richard was himself once more. 

The notorious Jim Cummings had escaped, but two of his accomplices, Cookand Moriarity, were in the clutches of the law. 

Dan maintained a dogged silence as the cavalcade cantered toward KansasCity, nor did he speak a word until he was safe behind the bars in thatcity. 

"You have caught me by a dirty, shabby trick, but you will never layyour hands on Jim Cummings, " he boasted. 

To this Chip replied with a smile, "We'll see, Daniel, we'll see. Makeyourself comfortable, for you will stay here a good long time, my cockrobin. "

A growl and a curse was all that Dan deigned to answer, and turning onhis heel Chip left the prison. 

Mr. Pinkerton, who had received almost daily reports of what hadoccurred, which reports Chip had contrived to mail through some one ofthe detectives disguised as cowboys, now telegraphed that he would be inKansas City the following night. Chip and Sam met him at the railwaystation and he accompanied them to Chip's room. 

A full and detailed recital of all that occurred was given him by hissubordinates, who then put the case in his hands. 

"Boys, " he said, "we must get one of these men, either Cook orMoriarity, to squeal. "

"They are both afraid of Jim Cummings, I can see that in every word theyspeak, " said Chip, "they would rather go to Jefferson City than to turnState's evidence. "

"We must work on them in some other manner, then. Sam, " turning to thedetective, "are you a good hand at forgery?"

"I can imitate most any one's handwriting, " said Sam. "Sit down and Iwill dictate a letter to you. "

Sam, taking some paper from the table, wrote as Mr. Pinkerton dictated. 

MR. WILLIAM PINKERTON:

DEAR SIR--The letter I wrote to the St. Louis Globe-Democrat is allcorrect, excepting that I did not tell who plugged the bell-cord. Theman, Dan Moriarity, who is now under arrest in Kansas City, was the manwho did it. He also forged the order which I gave to the messengerFotheringham, and was the one who planned the robbery. I make thisstatement, relying on your word of honor to secure me a light sentenceif I turn State's evidence and give information leading to the recoveryof the money which I secured. 

Yours truly, JIM CUMMINGS. 

Mr. Pinkerton, taking from his pocket-book the train robber's letterwhich he wrote to the St. Louis newspaper, handed it to Sam. 

"There is a letter in Jim's handwriting. Now sit down and write thisletter in the same hand. "

In an hour the detective had completed his work and laid the forgedletter before his superior. It was cleverly done, and Mr. Pinkerton feltsatisfied. 

"Now for the jail, " he said, and accompanied by his two "bowers, " as heoften called them, he left the room and walked to the Kansas City jail. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

MORIARITY IN THE SWEAT-BOX--THE SUCCESS OF THE FORGED LETTER--MORIARITYCONFESSES. 

Dan Moriarity, seated on a bare plank bench in his cell, was passingaway the weary hours in figuring how he was to get out of the bad scrapeinto which he had plunged. He was now fully satisfied that thedetectives were very certain that he had a hand in the express-carrobbery--but how did they get hold of that dangerous fact? Not throughCook, for since his incarceration in the jail Dan had talked with Cookin the corridors, and Cook had sworn by all that was good and holy thathe had not divulged a single word, and knowing that Cook stood in mortalfear of Cummings, as did he himself, Dan believed him. 

It was not at all probable that either Haight or Weaver had given thething away in Chicago, for Dan knew from Cummings that they had not beendisturbed, and Cummings had not, or would not have given anyinformation. Then how did the cursed "man-hunters" find out that he hadhelped in the affair?

Dan was busily engaged in trying to solve this knotty question when thebailiff in charge entered the door and told Dan to follow him to theoffice. 

When Dan reached the room he found three gentlemen awaiting him, allstrange faces to the robber. The eldest of the three, as he came in, pointed to a chair, and with commanding brevity and in a tone whichindicated that he was used to being obeyed, told him to sit down. 

The full glare of the light streaming in through the window fell fullupon his face, while the remainder of the party, their faces turnedtoward him, were comparatively in the shadow, thus having him at adisadvantage. As was before remarked, Moriarity possessed a certainamount of bull courage, and seeing he was in for it, and feeling that hewas to be put through the sweating process he sat erect in his chair, his lips compressed and his whole demeanor that of a cornered mandetermined to fight. 

Mr. Pinkerton saw that and with courteous suavity inquired, "Is this Mr. Moriarity?"

"What's the use of asking me; you know well enough who I am, " repliedDan, in short, curt syllables. 

"Of course, of course; but I thought I might be mistaken. "

"Well, you aren't. "

"Now, Mr. Moriarity, I think if you are inclined to you can get yourselfout of this scrape. "

"Ya-as, I suppose so. 

"You will let me introduce myself. My name is William Pinkerton. "

Dan looked at the great detective with interest and a certain amount ofawe, which, however, he quickly overcame and determined to keep astiffer upper lip than ever. 

"Oh! You're Billy Pinkerton, are you?"

"Yes, I am Billy Pinkerton, and I've been hunting for you for sometime. "

"Well, you ought to be satisfied; you've caught me. "

"More than satisfied, Mr. Moriarity, for I've caught your friend too. "

"Cook?"

"Oh, he was jailed before you. "

"You don't mean Jim?"

"Exactly. "

"You can't stuff me with any such yarn as that. "

"Would you like to see him?" asked Mr. Pinkerton, quickly. 

"Seeing's believing. "

Turning to the bailiff Mr. Pinkerton inquired:

"What cell is Jim Cummings in?"

"Forty-three, sir. "

"Will you take us there?"

"Yes, sir. This way, please. "

The detectives with Moriarity followed the turnkey and passing theentire length of the corridor paused in front of cell forty-three. 

The door of solid sheet steel had a small circular opening in it throughwhich the guards could inspect their prisoners. 

Opening this Mr. Pinkerton looked in, then stepping back told Moriarityto step forward. 

Dan applied his eye to the opening and in surprised tones exclaimed, "ByGod, it IS Jim. "

He again looked and clinching his fist pounded on the door. "Jim! Jim!"he cried. "They got you at--"

"Here, none of that, " said the bailiff in a gruff tone. "None of that, Isay, " and taking Dan by the arm he marched him back to the office. 

"You see, Mr. Moriarity, I told the truth, " said Mr. Pinkerton in apleasant voice. 

"Looks like it, " growled Dan. "But I don't see how the devil you didit. "

"Very easily done. He gave himself up. "

"What's that?" shouted Dan as he almost bounded from his chair. 

"He gave himself up, I said, " repeated Mr. Pinkerton. 

"Jim Cummings gave himself up, " said Dan slowly as if trying to graspthe idea. 

"Exactly. He saw we had him and that he couldn't get away, so to makehis sentence as light as possible he did the best thing he could do andsurrendered. "

Almost dumbfounded by this surprise Dan sat speechless and staredblankly at the detective. 

"Do you know, Mr. Moriarity, " Mr. Pinkerton continued, "you strike me asbeing remarkably clever. "

Arousing himself Dan answered in a savage tone:

"What are you driving at now?"

"I mean that up to the time that Cummings surrendered himself we thoughthe was the principal man in the case, the prime mover and director ofthe whole affair, but now we find we are mistaken. That is why I say youare clever. You simply used him as a cat's paw, and played hide and seekwith our whole force, and a man that can do that as long as you did isremarkably clever, " and Mr. Pinkerton smiled admiringly at the man whosat before him. Puzzled at the words, and trying to see beneath thesurface, Dan said: "Oh! come now, stop your chaffing, I won't squeal, and you can't make me. What do you want me for anyway?"

Mr. Pinkerton's face became stern, and dropping the tone of levity whichhe had employed, he opened the letter Sam had forged, and suddenlyhanding it to Dan, said:

"We want to know if what Jim Cummings says there is true. "

Somewhat impressed by Mr. Pinkerton's manner, Dan commenced to read theletter. 

At first he hardly understood its purport, but slowly the realization ofhis friend's treachery came over him, and springing to his feet hebrought his fist down on his chair and shouted in angry tones:

"It's a damned lie!"

Without noticing the baliff or the detectives, he paced the floor withangry strides, his eyes flashing and the veins in his forehead swellinguntil they stood out like whip cords. 

The baliff, at a sign from Mr. Pinkerton, stationed himself at the door, but too excited to notice the movement, Dan continued to walk to and frolike a caged lion. 

"That is why he gave himself up, the coward--the lying turn-tale! Thetreacherous dog! Swearing it off on me to save a few years of hismiserable life out of jail. See here!" stopping suddenly before Mr. Pinkerton, "That traitor made me swear I would never squeal. All I gotout of the whole swag was two thousand dollars, but even then, if he haddone the square thing, I would have kept mum, though I were sent down torock-pile. But the man that would play that low, scaley trick on me isgoing to suffer for it. What do you want to know?"

"Now you are getting sensible, " said Mr. Pinkerton. "We want to get themoney. You know where it is? We know that last October a valise was sentto you from St. Louis to Leavenworth, which you were to give to Cook. Weknow that Cook received some of the stolen money. You had some, too. Wehave shadowed you all over Kansas City. You have been seen in the WhiteElephant playing faro, you were followed to the widow's fortune-tellingroom. We know where you lived, and have letters which you received fromJim Cummings. 

"That isn't his name, " broke in Dan. 

Mr. Pinkerton stopped. He saw he had Dan up to the proper point, andwhere before he would have died rather than given a grain of informationin connection with the case, he was now anxious to tell all he knew ofit. Dan continued:

"Jim Cummings isn't his right name any more'n it's mine. His name isFred Wittrock, and he lives in Chicago. "

"Where?"

"At--West Lake street. "

"Will you swear to that?" "Yes, I will; he runs a coalyard there. He anaa man named Weaver. I had nothing to do with robbing the car. It was alldone before I ran across Wittrock near Pacific, and he gave me $2, 000 tokeep my mouth shut and help plant the plunder. "

"Do you know where it is planted?"

"Part of it, yes. Weaver and another fellow named Haight have some hidin Chicago. Some is hid in the graveyard near Leaven worth, and some ofit behind Cook's cooper-shop. "

"Has Fotheringham got any of it?"

"Fotheringham hadn't anything to do with it--any more'n you did--Wittrock knocked him down and he couldn't help himself. "

"Mr. Moriarity, if all this is true, you will be benefited by theinformation you have given, " then turning to the baliff, he said, "Weare through now. " Moriarity, still cursing Cummings, was led back to thecell, and the detectives left the jail for Chip's boarding-house, "It's plain sailing now, boys, " said Mr. Pinkerton; "this end has beenworked dry, and you must return to Chicago with me. Cummings, or ratherWittrock, if Moriarity has spoken the truth, will certainly make forChicago, and you must be ready for him. "

The next day the three detectives were on their way to Chicago, leavingBarney, who had played the part of Jim Cummings in cell 43, to remain inKansas City and hunt for the "planted swag. "

CHAPTER XVII. 

JIM CUMMINGS IN CHICAGO--THE SPOTTED HOUSE--SHADOWED BY CHIP--JIMCUMMINGS ARRESTED. 

When Jim Cummings, by his bold strike for liberty, escaped the trap setfor him, he pushed his horse to its highest speed until he had put milesbetween himself and the spot where the detectives had made the attemptto capture him. 

He saw that Dan was captured, and with Cook also in jail he felt thetoils of the law tightening around him. He must get out of the UnitedStates. To Canada, Mexico, Brazil, it mattered little, but he must firstsecure some of the money he had taken from the express car. To go toKansas City or Leavenworth to raise it was like putting his head intothe noose. 

Chicago was the only place open for him, and to Chicago he must go asfast as horse and steam could get him there. 

While he was thinking of all these things his horse was plunging throughthe dark over the plain, skirting the timber, dashing through streams ofwater without staying his speed, and at last the ring of its hoofsstriking the steel rail, and the crunching of the gravel informed Jimthat he was crossing a railroad track. 

He pulled in his panting steed, and, far on the horizon, he saw theapproaching head-light of an engine. 

In the hurry and confusion incident to his escape, the outlaw had losthis bearings, but knew that this must be the M. , T. & K. R. R. , andshining over the head-light he saw the Great Dipper circling in theheavens. 

The train was, then, a south-bound train, either passenger or freight. Looking south along the track, he spied a small light twinkling throughthe night; and now, having recovered his reckoning, he surmised it wasthe water-tank some miles below Blue Jacket. 

He must reach that before the train arrived. Putting spurs to his horse, he flew down the track, the gravel flying in all directions, his sure-footed animal keeping the ties, nor did he pull rein or slack his speeduntil the large tank of the water station rose above him. Jumping fromhis horse, he walked to the keeper's shanty. The man was awake andtrimming his lantern, nor did he exhibit any surprise at the advent ofhis belated visitor. 

"What train is this coming?" asked Jim. 

"Galveston express, " answered the man. 

"Does she take water here?"

"Every time. "

"By Jove, that's lucky. I was on my way to Blue Jacket to catch it andgot turned around. "

"Where's your horse?"

"Out near the tank. I will be back in five days and if you will takecare of it I will make it all right for you. "

"That's O K. I often do that for the boys; but here's your train. "

The long train of cars drew up and came to a standstill as Jim left theshanty. Climbing aboard the smoker he found a seat and was soon on theway to Galveston Arriving there he took a gulf steamer to New Orleans, where he boarded an Illinois Central train and came to Chicago, where hearrived a week after his escape from the detectives. 

Late in the evening of the day on which he arrived he boarded a WestLake street car and jumping off at--Lake street, knocked at the door ofa small frame building over which was the sign "F. Wittrock and Co. , Hard and Soft Coal. "

No lights were visible and for some time no answer came. Finally thenoise of shuffling feet were heard and a clear voice inquired:

"Who's there?"

"It is I, be not afraid, " answered Cummings. 

"Thunder and lightning, it's Fred, " exclaimed the voice in accents ofgreat astonishment. 

"Well, why the devil don't you let me in, then?" asked Cummings, hismouth close to the keyhole. 

"Not the front door, Fred. Go to the corner, then up the cross streetand come back through the coal yard. "

Cummings did as he was told and entering the yard was met by Weaver, whodragged him into the house, and after carefully closing the door, litthe lamp and said:

"Dan's arrested. "

"Tell me something I don't know, you fool. "

"So is Cook. "

"If you have any news to tell me out with it; if you haven't go get themoney. This cursed country is getting too hot for me. I'm off forBrazil. "

"The money is safe. Haight will be here soon. You are safe here. "

"Don't you be too sure about that. I thought I was safe down atSwanson's ranche, and damn it, two of those Pinkerton detectives atewith me, slept with me and gambled with me. They had their hands on meonce but I floored one and got away. Dan, the coward, threw up his handthe first bluff and was walked off with the darbies on him. "

"Jim, suppose he should turn informer?"

A terrible frown blackened the outlaw's brow, his eyes became hard andsteely, and raising his hand above his head, he said:

"So help me God, I would hunt him up, tear his cowardly heart from hisbreast and choke him to death with it, if I had to go to prison to do itand was hung for it. "

An involuntary shudder passed through Weaver as he heard these fearfulwords and he hastened to say:

"No danger of Dan's squealing, Fred. He's true blue. "

"If he don't give the express robbery away he can easily get out of thisother scrape. You see we had a lay to get away with Swanson's money andthe two detectives went in with us. That is how they got Dan and nearlycaptured me. If Dan keeps his mouth shut they can't prove anythingagainst him on account of the Adams Express affair. So, you see, if heis wise he will keep mum. "

While the two men were thus conversing Chip and Sam were seated beforean open window on the second floor of the house opposite the coaloffice. The city directory readily gave them the address of Wittrock'scoalyard, and securing this room a constant watch had been kept on thespotted house. 

Nothing suspicious had been noted during the day; customers had passedin and out, and Sam had even bought a half ton of coal which was carriedto his room. The two men who ran the coalyard, whose names were found tobe Weaver and Haight, were well spoken of in the neighborhood and didnot look to be the sort of stuff out of which train robbers weremanufactured. 

While buying the coal Sam had purposely called Weaver "Mr. Wittrock. "

"That isn't my name, " said Weaver, "Me and my pardner bought outWittrock last October. "

"Excuse me, " said Sam; "I saw the name over the door and thought youwere the gentleman. "

"We don't like to pull down the sign. People know the yard by that name, an' we don't care, so long as they buy the coal. "

This was said so frankly and openly that Sam almost believed it to betrue. But the case was beginning to be too interesting to allow risks tobe taken, so the detectives kept their long and tedious watch night andday. They had failed to see Cummings when he leaped from the car, for ateam crossing the track had delayed the car long enough for him to getinto the shadows on the other side of the street, so that the detectiveslittle knew that the man they wanted was only just across the streetfrom them. 

They recognized Haight when he let himself in with a latch-key, but asthis was not unusual, they thought little of it. 

When Cummings left the coal office, he passed through the alley, andgoing south to Randolph street, returned to the hotel for the night. 

The next day two of the Pinkerton force relieved Sam and Chip, whoimmediately went to their room at the Commercial Hotel, where theyboarded. 

As Chip was eating his supper that evening and glancing over the EveningJournal, a large broad-shouldered man, wearing a heavy mustache, passedthe table, and, seating himself at another one, faced the detective. 

It was part of Chip's religion never to allow any man to pass him orremain near him without looking at him carefully, so lowering the paperuntil his eye could see just above the upper edge, he glanced at thenew-comer. A thrill like an electric shock passed through him, for inevery feature, except the heavy mustache, Chip saw Jim Cummings, theAdams Express robber. 

The broad girth of his shoulders, the triangular gold-filling of hisfront tooth, the peculiar manner of hanging his head slightly on oneside as if he were a trifle deaf, all belonged to Jim Cummings, all butthe mustache. Was it real or false? If real, the man was not the notedrobber, but if false--well, if it were false Chip had a bit of paper inhis pocket which would take it off. 

He felt in his pocket for the warrant, and to his disgust recollectedthat Sam had it. 

He could do nothing without it. 

He timed his supper so nicely with that of the suspected man that theyboth rose together, Chip passing out first; but going down the stairs hefell back and the electric light revealed to the keen eyes of thedetective that the mustache was false. 

It WAS the train robber. 

Cummings, simply stopping a moment to buy a cigar, walked through theoffice, then crossed Lake on Dearborn street and walked to Randolph, closely followed by Chip. 

A Randolph street car came along and Jim sprang on the front platform, Chip jumping on the rear one. Passing through the car, he opened thefront door and stood beside Cummings, who was puffing his cigar, hiscoat collar pulled up and his fur cap drawn down over his ears. 

Pulling a cigar from his pocket, Chip felt for some matches, butapparently not finding any, he asked:

"I beg your pardon, but would you mind giving me some fire?"

Cummings held out his lighted cigar, at the same time darting asearching look at his questioner, but in the handsome, well-dressed, almost dandified young man before him, he failed to recognize theuncouth, grimacing Scip of Swanson's ranche. 

The pair rode along together, and after passing Halsted street somedistance, Chip saw that he was getting ready to jump off at the nextcross street, so, as soon as the car reached the street, Chip steppedoff and walked briskly toward Lake street. 

Cummings rode to the other crossing and did the same, utterly withoutany suspicion whatever. 

Although Chip walked straight ahead, he kept his eye on the dark figuremoving parallel to his course on the other side, and saw it turnabruptly to the left and enter the alley. 

Quickening his steps, Chip hurried to the house in which the watch waskept, and bounding up the steps, to his delight, found Sam in the room. 

"Cummings is over there, " said Chip, excitedly. 

"Sure?"

"As certain as I am that I live. "

"Come on, then!" and Sam ran down the steps, followed by Chip and theother two detectives. 

As they reached the foot of the stairs the door of the coal officeopened and three men stepped out on the sidewalk. 

"The devil, " said Chip, "that is more than I bargained for. "

The three men stood a moment conversing, then the detectives heardCummings say:

"I'll be back in an hour, " as he turned east and walked away. 

The other two, Weaver and Haight, turned in the opposite direction andsauntered slowly along. 

Turning to the two men who had been sent to relieve them, Chip said:

"Follow those two, and arrest them if possible without any noise; yourwarrant covers them. "

By this time Cummings was some little distance below them, strollingleisurely along, and at the next corner the detectives saw him enter asaloon. 

Crossing the street, their revolvers in their side coat-pockets readyfor use, Sam and Chip entered the saloon. 

Cummings, without the false mustache, which he had either removed orlost (in fact it dropped off as he entered the coalyard) had justordered a drink as the detectives entered. 

Without a second's hesitation Chip stepped up to him, and placing hishand on the train robber's shoulder, said quietly:

"Fred Wittrock, alias Jim Cummings, I want you. "

Wittrock sprang back as though he had been shot, and glaring like anenraged lion, seemed about to rush upon the audacious detective. 

In a twinkling the cold barrels of two revolvers were leveled at hishead and, with the address and skill of a practiced adept, Sam passedhis twisted steel wire "come alongs" around the outlaw's wrist, and JimCummings' career stopped short. Any attempt at escape was hopeless, andin silent surrender he held out his other hand and Chip snapped thehand-cuffs on him. 

Before the people in the saloon had recovered from their astonishment, the detectives had taken desperate prisoner away, and finding a liverystable near drove to the Pinkerton headquarters. Haight and Weaver hadnot gone a block before the two detectives arrested them without anystruggle, so that within one short half hour the three principals of theGREAT ADAMS EXPRESS robbery were placed behind the bars. 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

JIM CUMMINGS IN PINKERTON'S SWEAT-BOX--HIS CONFESSION. 

All night long "Jim Cummings" walked the narrow limits of his room--still undaunted and fearless as of old. The gravity of his position onlymade him the more daring, and when the first beams of the morning brokethrough the barred window he had recovered his usual grit and nerve, anddetermined to die hard and game. Mr. Pinkerton, alone, came into theroom just as the outlaw had finished the excellent breakfast which hadbeen served him. Jim looked up, and holding out his hand, in a cheeryvoice said:

"Good morning, Mr. Pinkerton. "

For a second Mr. Pinkerton hardly knew what to say. He was prepared toencounter either a desperate or a sullen prisoner, and was somewhattaken back when he received such a cordial greeting. It was but asecond, and fully alive to all the tricks and maneuvers practiced byarrested criminals, he was on the qui vive. 

"Good morning, Mr. 'Cummings'. I trust you have had a good breakfast?"

"Oh, fair. "

"You slept well?"

"Tip-top. "

"I trust you will be able to amuse yourself during the day. "

"I won't amuse you, that's certain. "

"You have been doing that for some time. "

"That's all right. Now, what am I here for?"

"Just so. What ARE you here for?"

"You've got the wrong man, Mr. Pinkerton. "

"Indeed?" "Just now you called me 'Mr. Cummings'. "

"I should, perhaps, have said Mr. Wittrock. "

"What did you call me 'Cummings' for, then. "

"As you christened yourself you ought to know. "

"I'm arrested, of course, now for what?"

"To tell the fact, Mr. Wittrock, it is because some time last Octoberyou played a little joke on the Adams Express Company, and theyappreciated it so highly that they hired me to find you so that theycould tell you so. "

"You dare accuse me of committing that robbery?"

"That's about the size of it. "

"Why, man, I wasn't within five hundred miles of the place when itoccurred. "

"Where were you?"

"I was in New Orleans. "

"Positive of that?"

"I can PROVE it. "

"You can?"

"Yes, I can. You go over to my coalyard at--West Lake street, and ask mypartner, Weaver. He will tell you where I was at that time. "

"Is he your partner?"

"Yes. "

"Strange, very strange. He said he bought you out last October. "

"You've been there, have you?"

"That is what he said. "

"He lies. "

"Or you do. "

"You wouldn't dare say that outside of this room. "

"Don't get excited, Mr. Wittrock. We have had enough bantering. Youmight as well make a clean breast of the whole affair, for we have aclear case against you. "

"I tell you I was at New Orleans at the time. "

"You were not. Listen to me and I can prove you are a liar. "

Wittrock flushed, and he began to get angry, which was just what Mr. Pinkerton wanted, and glaring at his persecutor he folded his arms andsettled defiantly back in his chair. Mr. Pinkerton quietly continued:

"A week before the robbery was committed you and a man named Haight tooka room at Chestnut street. On the twenty-third of October you sent avalise to Daniel Moriarity at Leavenworth, Kansas, and a letterinstructing him to give its contents to Oscar Cook, of Kansas City. Afew days after you committed the robbery, and in a cave near Pacific, you, with Moriarity and Haight, divided the ill-gotten wealth. You thenrowed down the river to St. Louis, or near there, and from thence wentto Kansas City. You were often seen playing faro at the White Elephant, and one night you knocked one of my men senseless when he had arrestedMoriarity, and took him to old Nance, the widow. Still later, you, Cookand Moriarity took refuge at Swanson's ranche in the Indian Territory, and after attempting to rob your host, which attempt was frustrated bymy men, you came, in some roundabout way, to Chicago, where you put upat the Commercial Hotel, disguised by a false mustache. Every eveningyou went to West Lake street, and last night you were arrested. Now, Mr. Wittrock, what have you to say?"

"That's a very pretty yarn; but as I don't happen to be the man that didall that I don't see how it concerns me. "

"Look at that and tell me what you have to say, " and Mr. Pinkerton laidbefore him the sworn deposition of Daniel Moriarity, in which all thefacts that Mr. Pinkerton had been relating were set forth, Wittrock didnot show a trace of feeling other than amusement, as he read the longand legally worded document, and passing it back to Mr. Pinkerton with agesture of disdain, he said:

"So on the strength of that cock-and-bull story you mean to hold me forthat robbery?"

"Partly so. "

"There isn't a word of truth in it. That man, Moriarity, is a notedliar. "

"Ah!" said Mr. Pinkerton, quickly, "you know Moriarity?"

"That is--I mean--yes, I sort of know him, " stammered Wittrock, inconfusion; "I have heard of him. "

"You are in desperate straits, Mr. Wittrock, " said the detective. "Insuch desperate straits that you are doing the worst possible thing--denying all that is proved true. We have you safe and secure, and enoughevidence against you to send you to Jefferson City for a long term ofyears. You can lighten your sentence by one thing. "

"You don't catch me that way, I am not to be taken in by soft words, andall the traps you set for me won't make me confess that I had anythingto do with the robbery. You've arrested me without cause, and if thereis any law in the land I'll make you suffer for it, " and Wittrock walkedexcitedly around the room. 

Mr. Pinkerton did not reply to this, but touching a bell, told the manwho opened the door to bring in the other prisoners. 

Wittrock had resumed his seat, his head bowed forward and eyes castdown, but hearing the door opening, he glanced up and saw Weaver andHaight, followed by two detectives, ushered into his room. 

Both of them looked discouraged and broken-spirited. The heart had beentaken from them by their arrest, and Wittrock's boldness and defiantmanner began to melt as he saw his faint-hearted accomplices. 

"You here, too, " he exclaimed. 

"Looks like it, don't it, " said Haight, with a grim smile. 

"You may as well own up, Fred, " said Weaver, "they have the drop on us. "

"Coward!" hissed Wittrock. Then turning suddenly to Mr. Pinkerton, hesaid:

"That cur is right, you have the drop on us. "

"Then you confess you committed the robbery?"

"Yes, " he answered, curtly. 

"Was Fotheringham in the ring, too?"

"Fotheringham hadn't a thing to do with it. "

"How came it, then, that we found some of the Adams express letter headsin his trunk, and which were not the ones printed for the company?"

"Did you do that?"

"Yes; ten or twenty sheets. "

"He never got them from us. The first time I ever saw him was when Ijumped on his car in St. Louis. "

Mr. Pinkerton looked at the frank, open face of the train robber, andwondered that such a man could have committed the crime for which he wasnow locked up in the "Pinkerton strong box. " His manner and tone ofsincerity, when he declared Fotheringham innocent of any complicity withhim or his companions, carried conviction with it. He believed himselfthat a blunder had been made, and Fotheringham was wrongfully accused. 

"I said, a short time ago, " he continued, addressing Wittrock, "that youcould lighten your sentence if you wanted to do so. "

"How?"

"Tell me where you have hid the money. "

Wittrock hesitated, and glanced at his companions. Perhaps he saw intheir faces, that if he didn't tell, they would. He was willing, however, to give them the same benefit accorded him, and pointing toWeaver, he said;

"Weaver knows where the money is planted in Chicago, and Cook has somehid around his shanty in Kansas City. I put some under the large tree, just east of the gate of the old graveyard at Leavenworth. "

A sign from Mr. Pinkerton to one of the detectives, and taking Weaverwith him, the man left the room. 

Shortly after, Mr. Pinkerton, with the remaining detectives, also tookhis leave, and the two express robbers were alone. 

The door had scarcely closed, when, dropping his cool and calm demeanor, Wittrock sprang from his chair and confronting Haight with flaming eyes, he whispered in terrible tones:

"Moriarity turned informer, he swore away our liberty, and all our workhas been turned to naught by the cowardly traitor. Listen to me, Haight, listen well, and when you see the poltroon tell him that Jim Cummingsswore he would cut his heart out. Aye! _I_ WILL DO IT, though he wereguarded behind double bars. I'll search him out and tear the traitorheart from his breast and make him eat it, by God--make him eat it. "

A gurgling sound and hissing gasps recalled the furious man to hissenses, and he saw that in his frenzy of anger he had clutched hiscompanion by the throat and was choking him purple in the face. 

A few gasps, and Haight had recovered his breath, rubbing his throatruefully, and edging away from his dangerous and excited companion. 

His passionate outburst over Wittrock regained his composure, andlighting a cigar, gave one to Haight, remarking in a light tone:

"I beg your pardon, old man, I didn't mean to hurt you. "

"Next time don't take me for Moriarity, " puffing the peace-offering. 

"Do you know whom I would like to see? Those two chaps that arrestedme. "

As if in answer to his call the door opened, and Sam, with Chipfollowing, entered. 

Wittrock recognized them, and with a hearty "Good-morning, gentlemen, "motioned them to a seat, with as little ceremony as if the room was inhis own house. 

"Good-morning, Jim, " said Chip, "I'm sorry we had to pull you in lastnight. "

"It was a ground-hog case, eh?"

"You don't seem to recognize us, " said Sam. 

"Yes, I do; you gave me enough cause last night to remember you all mylife. "

"Suah enough, Massa Cummins, " broke in Chip, imitating Scip's voice. 

Wittrock gazed at the speaker, and in astonishment, cried:

"Scip!"

"Suah as you bawn, honey, I's de same ole Scip. "

"And you?" turning to Sam. 

"Doctor Skinner, at your service, "

"Then you're the two I have to thank for my being here. "

"We helped the thing a little. "

As they were talking, Weaver returned with the detective, bringingseveral packages of money, still in the original wrappers, whichWittrock had taken from the safe of the express car. 

The sight of the recovered plunder placed a quietus on the arrested men, who now saw that the last link in the chain had been forged, and feltthe walls of the penitentiary looming up before them. 

Settling into a stubborn silence, they sullenly refused to utter anotherword, and maintained this position until they were placed on the trainfor St. Louis, where they were locked up to answer the indictments whichthe grand jury had already found against them. 

*****

Fotheringham, who had all this time laid in jail, still protested hisinnocence. He stated that the letter heads found in his trunk he hadtaken from the general desk in the company's office, and that the reasonthe signatures of Route Agent Bartlett was found on the paper, was dueto the fact that he was about to write for a permit for a vacationChristmas, and simply practised writing the name. 

This explanation was received with smiles, but his friends came to therescue, and proved that he was in the habit of writing names on everybit of paper which came to hand. That this eccentricity was well known, and his explanation should be received with favor. The grand jury, however, found an indictment against him, and he was held as anaccomplice to the robbery. 

APPENDIX. 

WHEN the now noted express car robbers, Wittrock, Haight and Weaver, were brought up for trial, they pleaded "guilty, " and were sentenced toa term of years in the Missouri State penitentiary at Jefferson City. Afew days later the train carried them to that city, and as they passedthe various places, Wittrock pointed out the gully in which was locatedthe moonshiner's cave where the plunder was divided, and then, as thetrain rounded the curve, he depicted, in graphic language, the strugglebetween Moriarity and himself, which was only ended by the freight trainbearing down on them. 

When the train arrived at Jefferson City the three prisoners were drivento the warden's office of the penitentiary, and, after going through theregular formalities, the striped suits were put on them, and they becameCONVICTS. 

Oscar Cook was sentenced to a term of years on the charge of being anaccessory after the fact, but Moriarity, in consideration of thevaluable services he had rendered the State, was not prosecuted. 

The house of Nance, the widow, fortune-teller and "fence, " was brokenup, and with it the rendezvous of one of the most daring bands ofhighwaymen which had ever infested that section of the country, Nanceescaped the clutches of the law and disappeared from sight. 

The detective work in connection with this case was as skillful, daringand successful as any that have made the detectives of Paris worldfamous. 

Starting with the bit of torn express tag and following, thread bythread, the broken bits of clews which were discovered by the hawk eyesof the operatives until the arrest of Cook, it was as pretty a piece ofbusiness as ever brought criminals to their just punishment. 

A most remarkable fact connected with the robbery and the subsequentdetection of its participators, is that from first to last not a singlehuman life was taken. 

Unlike Jesse or Frank James, Redney Burns, Frank Rande or other notedoutlaws, who always shot before a move was made, Jim Cummings pittedbrute strength and brain power against brute strength and brain power. He doubtless would not have hesitated to take life if pushed to the lastextremity, but he placed more reliance on his cunning, shrewdness andready brain than on the deadly bullet. 

Jesse James on a fleet horse, a revolver in each hand, and surrounded byhis band of horse thieves and cutthroats, was audacious and bold, andwould not hesitate to take desperate chances, but it is doubtful if hewould have quietly and with business-like foresight, prepared for everyemergency, forged a letter on a forged letter-head of an expresscompany, gained access to the car, and, single-handed, attack and bind aman nearly as strong as himself, and then leisurely helped himself tohis booty. 

The writer is not holding Jim Cummings up in a laudatory spirit, or asan object to be envied and imitated, but as everything else has itsdegrees of comparison, so has the methods employed in committingrobbery, and the address, audacity, skill, success and intelligencedisplayed by Jim Cummings in robbing the Adams Express Company of a cool$53, 000, cannot help but excite a feeling akin to admiration. As thiswas his first attempt, it would take subsequent years to measure theheight which he might attain as a highwayman. It may be that the modernJack Sheppard had his career nipped in the bud by the PinkertonDetective Agency. That "eye that never sleeps" must have winked prettyoften, when it learned of the various and narrow escapes Jim Cummingshad from its agents, and Mr. Pinkerton confessed afterward, that hepassed many anxious nights and days on account of Jim Cummings. Themoney was gathered together from the various sources designated by therobbers, and when counted was found to be almost the whole sumoriginally put in the safe, The robbery was committed in the latter partof October, and the early part of the following January found theprincipals wearing the convicts' stripes, * * * * *

The foregoing narrative would be incomplete did it not relate theincidents which brought Swanson's ranche to a pile of ashes, and Swansonhimself to an untimely end. 

When Cummings and Moriarity, with Sam and Chip, the detectives, disguised as the Doctor and Scip, his negro servant, dashed away fromthe ranche, carrying the greater part of his wealth, Swanson was lying, an unconscious man, on the floor of the large room. The blow whichfelled him to the ground had been given with the full force of Cummings'right arm, and partly overcome by the copious libations of which he hadpartaken previous to his short but decisive fight with the train robber, it was several hours before he regained his senses. His men had rushedto the pony herd at the first alarm, only to find a stampede hadloosened all the horses, and they were helpless to pursue the robbers. 

Swanson's rage, when he fully realized that he had been robbed, wassomething terrible. He roamed the vicinity of the ranche armed to theheel, cursing and foaming at the mouth, pouring maledictions of the mostblasphemous character upon the men who had repaid his hospitality withsuch a scurvy trick. 

When finally the ponies had been corralled, he vaulted on one, andgalloping with the speed of the wind, set out in pursuit of the robberswho had mulcted him of his wealth. All the day he ranged the country, until his horse, completely exhausted, refused to move another step. Hisown excited passion had calmed down somewhat, so hobbling his horse, hethrew himself on the open prairie and sank into a deep slumber. 

During his absence a strange procession rode up to the ranche. 

A large band of Cherokee Indians and half-breeds, headed by a chief ofthe tribe, loped up the trail, and dismounting, asked for Swanson. 

The angry tones and flashing eyes of the red men portended a storm, andsuspicious of coming danger to the master of the ranche, a cowboymounted his pony and galloped off to warn Swanson. 

For several months previous the Indians had been missing stock fromtheir herds of cattle. Steers and yearlings had mysteriouslydisappeared, even under the keen eyes and sharp ears of the Cherokeesthemselves. All efforts to discover the thieves had proved fruitless, until chagrined and mortified by their ill success, the Indians resolvedto let nothing escape nor a stone unturned which would lead to thedetection of the parties making away with their cattle. 

Relays of scouts were detailed, and a few days previous to theirappearance at Swanson's ranche the first trail had been found, whichthey followed with all the skill and cunning that have made the red menof America peculiarly famous. Day and night the pursuit had beenfollowed, and it led them direct to Swanson's. 

He had long been suspected of such methods of procuring his stock, butso cunningly had he managed to cover his tracks that he had escapedbeing caught lip to this time. 

His day of punishment had arrived, and his executioners were gatheredaround the ranche awaiting his return. 

The cowboy had failed to find him, and the early morning found Swansonreturning home. The Indians had posted scouts in all directions, andwhen one of them galloped in, conveying the intelligence that Swansonwas coming, the temporary camp was awakened, and with their blanketsover their heads, the Indians patiently waited for their victim. 

All unsuspicious of danger, he came at a hard gallop over the range, nordid he discover his visitors until he wheeled around the corner of thehouse and found himself in their midst. 

A dozen hands immediately grappled him, dragging him from the saddle andpinioned his arms behind him. Not a word had been spoken, their silenceand his own guilty conscience told him that he had no mercy to hope for. As husband of a Cherokee squaw, he was looked on as a member of theirtribe, and as such would be tried by their methods, found guilty or notguilty; and if guilty, he knew he would be shot at once. 

His reckless, bold spirit asserted itself at this critical period, andholding his head erect, he asked, speaking the Cherokee tongue:

"Am I a coyote, that my brother traps me in this way?"

The dignified chief, folding his arms across his breast, his face sternand forbidding, replied:

"Coyote! No, dog of a pale-face. The coyote would yelp in mockery tohear you call yourself one. "

"That isn't answering my question, Eagle Claw, What I want to know is, why am I jumped on in this way?" asked Swanson, his tone pacific andcalm, and his manner free from anger, for he saw that it would require adeal of diplomacy to get him out of the scrape. 

"You shall be answered, but not here, " and the chief, Eagle Claw, placing his curved hand to his mouth, emitted a shrill, piercing yellwhich was repeated by the line of scouts until the most remote videtteheard, and headed his horse to the ranche. The Indians in some parts ofthe Territory are partly civilized and live in organized towns andvillages, electing their head men from time to time. Others are wild anduncivilized, wandering from place to place, pitching their tepees ofbuffalo hide on the bank of some rippling stream, or, sequestered insome lovely valley, engage in the pursuit of game and in the care oftheir herds of ponies and cattle. 

It was to the latter class that Eagle Claw and his band belonged. Gaudypaint, vemillion and yellow, smeared their faces in all the fantasticdesigns which their grotesque imaginations could invent. The tannedbuckskin leggins, fringed and beaded, were supported at the waist by abelt of leather embroidered and figured. A blanket thrown carelesslyover the shoulder completed the costume, with the addition of mocassinsmade of rawhide. Their ponies were selected from the cream of theirstock, and the gorgeous trappings of the saddles and harness made a mostpicturesque scene as the cavalcade filed over the plains. 

Riding between two stalwart specimens of the Cherokee tribe, Swanson wasclosely guarded. All the answer he could get for his indignantquestionings was a surly "Humph, " or a sullen admonition to keep quiet. The chief led the party due southwest from Swanson's ranche, and all daylong the sturdy ponies were kept at the long, swinging lope whichenables them to cover miles during a day. 

Late in the afternoon the chief, raising in his stirrups, gave apeculiar, vibrating yell, which was immediately taken up by hisfollowers until the welkin rang with the penetrating sounds. 

Like a faint echo an answering yell came back, and soon the forms ofhorsemen, dashing over the range, could be discerned. 

Familiar with all the Indian customs Swanson recognized the yell. Ittold the camp that the scouting party had returned successful. 

A short canter and the entire band wheeled around the edge of a tract oftimber and came out upon the village, pitched on the banks of a streamof water, the tepees grouped in a circle around the chief's wigwam, theblue smoke curling lazily through the aperture at the top, and thewelcome smell of cooking meats permeating the place. Swanson was givenin charge of a guard and escorted to a vacant tepee, where he was firmlybound, hand and foot, and thrown upon a pile of fur robes. 

A large fire had been built near Eagle Claw's wigwam, and one by one thesub-chiefs, head-men and old Indians of the tribe gravely stalked towardit and seated themselves in the circle. 

Rising from his place Eagle Claw ordered the prisoner to be broughtforward. 

As Swanson caught sight of the council-fire, the stern faces surroundingit, and the grave air of his captors, his guilty heart sank within him, and, trembling in every joint, he was hardly able to totter to the placeassigned him. The Indians noted his condition with scornful eyes, andEagle Claw, advancing from the rest, said:

"How now, does the coyote tremble because he is asked to join thecouncil with his brethren?"

The mocking words brought Swanson's pluck back again, and drawinghimself to his full height he answered:

"You red devil! Don't brother me. Drop that beating around the bush andout with the truth. "

"'Tis well. A liar is a curse to his people. TheCherokees are men of truth and have but a single tongue. "

"The Cherokees are the biggest rascals in the Territory, the meanesthorse-thieves, and couldn't tell the truth to save their rascally necksfrom the halter, " said Swanson. 

The Indian's eyes flashed ominously at these words, and rising hisvoice, he said:

"My brother has a long tongue. It might be well if it were cut out; butwe know he is joking, for is he not a Cherokee himself?"

"Not I. You can't make a mustang out of a broken-down broncho and youcan't make a white man out of an Indian. "

"But you took one of the fairest of our young maidens to your tepee, and--"

"Fairest young maiden? I took the skinniest rack-a-bones in the tribe. The old hag! She was too lazy to earn her salt, and was the biggest foolthat ever wore calico. "

A terrible look of rage came into Eagle Claw's face, for Swanson hadmarried his own sister, and such an insult was not to be brooked. Butwith all the powers of dissimulation which the Indian possesses, heforced a smile to his lips, and, blandly speaking, pointed to the thongsaround Swanson's arms. 

"It is not well that our brother should be tied that way, " and drawinghis keen knife, he cut the thongs, and Swanson freed his arms. 

His arms free, all of Swanson's courage returned. Hastily glancingaround the circle, he suddenly shot out his right arm. Reeling backward, Eagle Claw fell to the ground, and the Indians saw something pass themlike the wind, straight for the pony herd. 

In an instant the camp was in commotion, hoarse yells came from tawnythroats, and in swift pursuit of the flying Swanson the braves ran afterhim. 

He had the start, however, and agile and athletic to a remarkabledegree, his hands pressed to his side, his mouth closed and saving hiswind, he sped before the pursuing red men and gained the corral of theponies. 

The Indians had not taken his knife from him, and hastily selecting hissteed, the leather lariat was severed in a trice, and vaulting on hisback, Swanson made a dash for life into the darkness. The thundering ofhoofs told him that the red devils were close after him. Turningabruptly to one side he rode at right angles to his former course, andsuddenly drawing up his horse he stood still. The sound of the chaseneared him, and presently he heard them sweeping past, the darknesscompletely shrouding himself and his horse from their keen eyes. 

Leaping to the ground, he placed his ear to the earth, and the faintthrobbing of the horse hoofs beating the ground grew fainter as hispursuers rode further away. 

Mounting his horse again, he commenced slowly and stealthily tocircumnavigate the camp, and it wasn't until he had gained the oppositeside, that he ventured to put his horse to a gallop. 

He had never been in that section of the country before, but it did notmatter so long as he could put a good distance between himself and hiscaptors in which direction he rode. 

The dawn of the next day found his horse loping along, Swanson keeping asharp eye out for Indians. 

He was satisfied that he had at last eluded pursuit, and turning into aclump of timber he tied his horse with the remnants of the lariat andthrew himself on the ground near it. 

All day long he slept, and as evening closed in he turned his horse fromthe timber and mounting a slight elevation near it, he gazed around forlandmarks. To his surprise, he recognized the country as that near hisown ranche, and feeling the pangs of hunger in a most distressingdegree, he urged his horse in the direction of the ranche. 

He had ridden several hours, and he knew that he must be somewhere nearhis place, when, rising before him, he discerned the house. 

Almost simultaneous with his discovery a wide sheet of flame burst fromthe roof and, dismayed and astonished, Swanson checked his horse. 

A multitude of yells rent the air, and Swanson, turning his horse againfled before the avenging Cherokees, but a hissing whistling sound washeard, a long, writhing lariat shot out, and the noose, falling overSwanson's shoulders, drew together with the run, and, lifted completelyfrom the saddle, Swanson was thrown senseless to the ground. A bucketfulof water was dashed over his face, and recovering he saw the demon facesof Eagle Claw and his band surrounding him. 

"My brother was cold and we started a fire that he might get warm. Hewas lost and we made a light to guide him here. We love our brotherSwanson. We would always have him with us, " jeered the Indian, To this Swanson was incapable of replying. His senses were benumbed andhe hardly realized what was going on around him. Staggering to his feethe reeled to and fro like a drunken man. 

As he walked toward the fire, he was suddenly grasped from behind, andagain were his arms pinioned. There was no escape for him this time. Forced to his knees, he was placed facing half a dozen of the bestmarksmen of the tribe. His shirt was torn open, exposing his hairybreast. A signal was given, and the sharp reports of the rifles rang outin tune with the crackling timbers of the house, and falling to hisface, Swanson gave a convulsive struggle and died as his own roof fellin; and a mass of blackened timbers marked the place where once stoodSwanson's ranche. 

THE END.