CHAPTER IVAN EXPENSIVE CHICKEN
At midnight the first telling stroke in the attack on the Cadiz Bank was made when Eddie Hughes, with a pair of nippers, “turned off” the key in the front door of the cashier’s house. With him were Big Bill, Jack Utley, and Tall Jim. On the outside of the house was George Wilson, standing on guard, ready to send a warning if danger were approaching from that quarter.
“You remain here in the front hall,” said Hughes to the trio, as he vanished in the still greater darkness, his only guide being the occasional flash of a bull’s-eye. He found the cashier’s sleeping room without much trouble. On a chair at the bedside was the cashier’s trousers, and in the bed lay their owner and his wife. Both were sleeping soundly. Hughes decided that the bank keys he wanted were either in the clothing or under the cashier’s pillow. If under the pillow, so much the more hazardous the undertaking. He flashed his light on the sleepers’ faces to make certain all was right. The keys were found in the trousers, and Hugheshad them in hand, when, evidently disturbed by the instant glimmering of the light, the cashier awoke. It was a critical moment, and Hughes, knowing it, was prepared. Instantly, and probably before the victim was fully aware of the true situation, he felt strong hands about his throat and his face forced in the bedclothing. The noise of the struggle roused the wife, who cried out to know what was the matter. It was a terrifying position for her, to be thus awakened from a sound sleep and in the dark, to hear strange noises and get no reply to her call. Immediately she became quiet, and from all accounts I believe she fainted from fright.
In the meantime, the men in the hall, being on the alert, heard the cry and hastened to the assistance of Hughes. Tall Jim threw a light for an instant on the scene, and Big Bill helped to subdue the cashier. Realizing at last his predicament, the latter ceased to resist, and, cowed by the threat of violence to him and his wife, promised implicit obedience. Then they were securely bound hand and foot, and left lying in bed, with Wilson, who had been called in, to remain on guard.
Having secured the keys, Hughes and his associates hastened to the bank. While they were away, Wilson kept stern guard over his captives, telling them that if they kept quiet, they would not be harmed. Ninety-nine persons out of a hundred would have done just as this cashier did,under the circumstances. Knowing my associates as I afterward found them, it was well for the cashier and his wife that they obeyed the instructions to the letter. They were a desperate lot in a pinch.
In the meanwhile, Hughes led the way to the bank, where they made a cautious survey of the surroundings, and finding them favorable, proceeded to make the final strike for the loot. The watchman, who had been under surveillance the night before, had shown every indication of being a faithful employee, so it was necessary to make certain just where he was. This was accomplished by peeping through a window which did not face the street. The watchman was sitting behind the counter with his back to the door, and, in the dim light not far from him, he seemed to be awake.
The importance of making a clean job of overcoming this bar to the vault was not lost to Hughes, so it was decided that the unlocking of the bank door must be done so quietly that at least one of our party would be up to the counter before the watchman knew of his presence. So, with this in mind, Hughes worked the nippers on the key in the front door lock. It turned without a click under the deft handling of the expert, and the door was swung open far enough for Hughes to peep in. The watchman sat motionless. At the silent signal, all but Tall Jim sprang over the counter only a step fromthe door, and were on top of the victim ere he could make an outcry, or for that matter knew what was amiss. It took less than a minute to stuff a rag in his mouth, blindfold him, and bind him securely to his chair. Hughes stood on guard while Utley and Big Bill went at the vault lock. The keys did their work, and it was the matter of but a few minutes to transfer the cash and bonds to a satchel there for the purpose. Besides this, the lads tied up a big bag of silver coin, weighing much more than the average man would care to carry a great distance, even travelling at his leisure. It was a question, considering the anticipated flight for safety, whether it were wise to burden the party with the coin; but Jack Utley said they’d better take it along, and so it was decided. Ready to quit the bank, the doors were left as they were found, and a quickstep was taken back to the cashier’s house after Wilson. They found everything satisfactory there, and with a parting warning to the cashier that one of the party would remain on guard outside of the house, hurried away as rapidly as they could, being much hampered by the bag of silver. When all hands became convinced that the load was much like a millstone about their necks, Hughes threw it over a barnyard fence, somewhere on the outskirts of the village. Notwithstanding, this tossing away of so much money was done with many qualms of regret, and I, upon hearing of it, in a measure couldunderstand the feelings of my associates. No doubt some early-rising farm lad that day made big, round eyes when he espied the prize. Subsequent information has not enlightened me as to whether the bag of coin ever found its way back to the Cadiz Bank. Unhampered by money,—so strange would be the term without the explanation,—the lads now made a dash for the hand-car shanty, Hughes, being fleet of foot, leading with the precious black bag of treasure tightly gripped.
*****
There being no one in the house besides the cashier and his wife, no relief came to them till their negro serving-woman, who slept at home, reported for duty at fiveA.M.On going to the pantry, its tumbled condition led her to suspect something was amiss. A moment later and she had discovered her master and mistress in their wretched plight and released them. But for Jack Utley’s pantry thieving, in which he, among other things, carried off two pies, they would have remained prisoners some time longer. As soon as possible the cashier was at the bank, where he found the poor night watchman in his unpleasant situation. Severing the bonds, he demanded to know how it all had happened, not forgetting to berate the poor fellow for being overcome by the robbers. No doubt the cashier had forgotten his own helplessness in his vain search for something soothing for his mind, fully realizingthat he and the other officials of the bank had a grave situation to face. He lost little time, however, in this sort of meditation, but, ascertaining in a general way what the loss was, alarmed the constables and sent a fleet-footed messenger to the house of the sheriff, some distance away. Then he went to the bank president’s residence, knocked him out of bed, and, pale-faced, told him briefly what had happened, after which there was a consultation as to what steps must be taken to capture the burglars and recover the property. At the earliest moment telegrams were sent to the near-by cities and railway stations, asking that all suspicious men be detained, with the hope that such a drag-net would bag the game.
About this time the section men found their car shanty broken open and empty. They had not heard of the bank robbery, but on complaining of their loss to the authorities, the latter at once saw a clew that might put them on the track of the bank looters. There was only one way that the hand-car could be run, and that was toward Cadiz Junction, ten miles away. Those for whom they sought had at least three hours the start, they argued, so the problem which confronted them was to reduce that advantage, and the only thing to accomplish it was a locomotive. That was hired and steamed up in the shortest possible time, and when it was ready to move, a posse of constables,several deputy sheriffs, and still others not vested with official authority, all armed for any encounter, was at hand, and, piling aboard, the pursuit soon began.
A close watch was kept on both sides of the track with the hope of soon finding the hand-car. It was not believed that the burglars would do other than make a break for the more open country. The question was how far they would go by rail before branching off into the wooded land, which was not inconsiderable in that particular neighborhood. Not coming across the car at Cadiz Junction, the pursuers learned, a little beyond there to the eastward, that one had been seen going in that direction, so, putting on all steam, they sped toward Steubenville. Presently the overturned car was sighted, and the party got down to reconnoitre; whereupon they found many footprints, which lay like a beaten path from the railroad side, across the fence and into a ploughed field.
Satisfied that the game for which they sought was not far off, as the marks in the soft earth were still fresh, the pursuers examined their weapons, and, quitting the track, bent to the trail. They lost it upon reaching the field of grass, but, sighting a ridge of trees, decided that there was the point to which their game would steer. Reaching the woods, they began to make a thorough search, presently coming across footprints alongside a brook, besidessome crumbs, which they made out to be bread. Here, they declared, the men they wanted had breakfasted. The footmarks led to a stone a few feet up the ravine. There they ended, to the confusion of the posse, which then began to make a search of any hiding-place they could find. For hours they kept at it, many times giving up their task, and as many times going at it again.
*****
“That was a d—d narrow call!” whispered Tall Jim to me, as we, almost breathless, listened to the tramping of receding feet.
“I don’t know how they came to overlook us,” I returned softly, as I rubbed the cold drops of sweat from my forehead. I was trembling like a leaf in a strong wind.
There we were, packed in the cave I had so fortunately found, like so many figs in a box. A moment before several of our pursuers had been standing on the rocky ledge above us, talking in our very ears. Not more than ten feet away, we heard them declaring their belief that we were hiding in that very neighborhood; that we had had no opportunity to get away, for if that were the case some of the farmers thereabouts would have seen us. Twice before this some of the posse had been on the same shelving rock and discussed us without stint, for the most part their talk being far from complimentary to us; yet on one occasion I hearda man speak as to our sagacity in so skilfully keeping clear of their most diligent “search and scouring of every nook and corner,” as he described it. From the moment we heard the approach of our enemy, when they beat into every hole and seam of the ravine in a vain search there; from the moment they discovered the crumbs of pie that Jack Utley introduced in the ravine, which caused the posse to declare that the trail was getting hot,—we lay in our hole in the ground, with a few scrub trees or bushes between us and discovery, wondering what the outcome would be. When I say “we,” I mean all but Eddie Hughes and George Wilson. They appeared to be so exhausted for want of sleep that they would slide off into a snoring match that I could only break off by the frequent use of a pin. At the time the pursuers made the second visit to the rock over us, I vow that I jabbed it into Wilson’s leg a score of times, to suppress a rising, insistent snore, and then the pain was so great that it awoke him enough to induce a bad humor. He was about to rip out an oath, which I smothered at its birth by pressing my hand hard over his mouth and whispering in his ear. Then he awoke to the danger we were in. Between caring for these sleepers and wondering how long it would be before we would be marched to jail, if we escaped with our lives, I passed a most uncomfortable day, to say the least. It was well toward the fading of the afternoon whenthe enemy paid us a final visit; and when an hour had worn by and nothing more was heard of them, we began to take hope. Tall Jim had remarked many times in that hour upon the narrow margin that had lain between us and discovery.
“We owe it to you, George!” he said to me half a dozen times. “That ravine was a mighty hot place soon after we left it.”
I said nothing to these reminders of my sound judgment, but I felt a sense of satisfaction, as no doubt any one would, under similar circumstances.
Finally the shades of night began to come down, and with them we crawled from our cramped quarters, and having scanned the immediate neighborhood as best we could in the twilight, found our way to the brook in the ravine, where we treated ourselves to a good wash and quenched our thirst, using our hands for cups. Feeling somewhat better, but subject to very serious clamorings for food, we started for the Ohio River, hoping to follow it until we reached Wheeling. We had not gone far when I became convinced that we were moving in the wrong direction, and so informed the lads. Jack Utley, still smarting over the morning’s experience, insisted that we were on the right course. He was so positive, while I, though convinced in my own mind, would not declare so to a certainty, that the boys would not say nay to him. So, snubbing me and insisting upon calling me an upstart, Utley continuedhis leadership. About midnight, or thereabouts, we came to a small stream of water, which we were forced to wade, with the result that we had a good wetting added to our discomfort, the water coming well up to our waists. Reaching the other side, to my astonishment Utley, who was still in the lead, started up-stream.
“Now, see here, lads,” said I, savagely, “we are all wrong as to our course.” I added, “Do you want to make the Ohio River?”
“Certainly,” replied Tall Jim.
“Well,” I went on, “this stream empties into the Ohio, and you’ll never find it by going up hill.”
“You have a cheek to tell me what course to take,” put in Utley, angrily, adding a curse by way of emphasis. Turning to Wilson, he asked, “Are you going to stick with me, or are you for that interloper?”
With this thrust at me, he resumed the course up-stream, the others following meekly; and I, hardly knowing what to do under the conditions, trailed on, but doing some pretty tall thinking. After what seemed about half an hour, Tall Jim called on Utley to halt and declared he thought I was right. This brought forth an argument from the obstructionist, and considerable time was wasted in high words, but to my relief it resulted in our course being reversed. Retracing our steps, we continued alongside the stream, and as we pushed on the moon showed itsface, in some respects to our advantage, in others not so much so. In the first place, it made travelling, which had been difficult, easier, the darkness often causing us to pitch headlong into pitfalls, and, on the other hand, the better light made a much surer mark of us, should we chance upon our enemies. As it was not within our power to control the queen o’ the night, we tramped on, taking a great chance of losing our liberty. Finally I decided to brave the bulldozing tactics of Jack Utley, and, addressing my words to George Wilson, though in a way to all, I said, “It’s sheer folly to expose ourselves like this!”
But Wilson cautioned me to refrain from expressing my views a few minutes longer, which I did, though feeling that we were walking into the lion’s mouth. It was somewhat near two o’clock when we came to a pike road, running parallel with the stream, and upon pursuing it for a short distance, we came up to a small village. The lads were inclined to pass through it, but then I would not be kept quiet.
“I’ll not go a step farther,” was my decision. “Here we are, in a light fit to read a newspaper, taking this tremendous chance. I’ll not do it longer.”
Addressing myself to Wilson, I continued: “You must know that the whole country has heard of the robbery by this time, and here we are, six of us, wandering through a strange land, half the time notknowing where we are going. It’s simply a case of breaking in jail, instead of keeping out of it.”
Again Wilson urged me to stick to him and the gang, and to show a disposition to be ruled by the majority, whatever my private opinions might be.
“Now, George,” I went on, “if there is anything coming to me, I’ll meet you in New York and get it.”
Still he, in a most kindly way, urged me to keep along with them, declaring it would not be for much longer. As I owed considerable to him for admitting me to the gang, and as he had always treated me in the most cordial manner, I consented to go on with them for a short time. In the meantime, I will say that we didn’t pass through the heart of the village!
I think we had gone about two miles farther when we sighted the Ohio River. There we paused for a moment, to realize what we had accomplished. It came back forcibly that we had passed over a very eventful Sunday and a night of travel into Monday, and had, in fact, been on the move or the anxious seat for more than twenty-four hours. Indeed, much had happened since we made that precipitous flight from the Cadiz car shanty. I shall never forget it.
Having our course well in hand now, we soon came up to the railroad, which would take us direct to Wheeling. As we plodded along the ties, wehad less to think about our bearings, and consequently more time to lend an ear to the yearnings of our stomachs. We were much in need of food to sustain our strength, for there was no telling what we yet had to encounter. Jack Utley was particularly hungry; or if not more so than the rest of us, he was less philosophical about it, for he presently insisted that he must appease the inner man at any risk whatsoever.
“I’ll tackle the first hen-roost I spot,” said he, emphatically.
“Better starve the stomach a little, than bar the whole body,” spoke up Tall Jim, with an observable emphasis on the word “bar,” which I interpreted to mean jail. Thus thinking, I nudged Jim, by whose side I was walking.
Just then we came abreast of a barnyard, upon spying which Utley started on a sharp trot toward it. I had a vision of dogs, flying men, and clews thick enough to capture a regiment. I presume it would have been fully as well if I had kept my own counsel, but here was a man not only endangering his own neck, but putting me in the same fix with him.
“Jack Utley, you fool!” I cried to him as loudly as I dared, “don’t you dare to do it. What’s hunger alongside of our liberty?”
All I heard was a smothered reply, the tenor of which I could guess without hitting wide of themark, and he went on his way, while we continued on ours, hearing no sound for upward of three minutes. Then there came to us a loud squawking of a chicken, which was quickly stifled, only to be succeeded by a chorus of similar squawks, the difference in them being their tones, some tenor, others of a lower scale of voice, the whole making a most discordant and disheartening din to our ears. I seemed to see ourselves in a pretty mess. There lay the farm-house, plain in the moonlight, and just in the rear was the barn. Two minutes later Utley came rushing up behind us with a big fowl stuffed under his coat, but a dead one, he having wrung its neck.
The curses we flung at him from all sides were like so much water on a duck’s back, his only retort being something about his stomach,—that it had to be considered once in a while. I feared the worst would come of this experience, and so remarked to the whole lot of them. As we went on I thought I heard the slam of a door, and, halting the lads for an instant, listened intently, but heard nothing more like it.
After hurrying forward for two miles or more, a deep cut was encountered, through which the track went, curving somewhat to the left where the bank on either side was the highest. Notwithstanding the bright moonlight, there was plenty of shadow at this curve, and not knowing what thedarkness might conceal from us, we halted while Hughes went to investigate. He returned in a few minutes, and we could tell by his manner that he had something interesting to relate.
“What do you think,” said he, in beginning, “I found at the other end of the cut? There was a shanty with several straw bunks in it. I did the soft-foot and found there wasn’t any one inside, but there had been, for the straw was yet warm from the duffers that had lain in it. A little beyond the shanty, sitting against a pile of ties, I saw two men, smoking pipes, because I could see the fire of the tobacco. On the way back I tripped my foot against something, and, by—, if it wasn’t a rope stretched across the track. It was lucky for me that I hit it just as I did, else there would have been a row.”
Immediately I saw in this rope a trap that had been laid for us. It was expected that any one hurrying along that way would stumble over the rope and thus give an alarm. Evidently the men hanging about the shanty were officers of the law, waiting for us, but as it was getting very late they had given up the idea of seeing us that night. I was about to say this to Hughes, but he continued: “It was well for us that the moon was up and we thought best to investigate that cut. It was a trap dead set for us, boys, you can bet your very last cent.”
“Right you are, Eddie,” said Big Bill, who seldom said anything. It was a pretty important matter that brought an unnecessary word from him.
There was nothing to be done but to make a widedétour, which we did, returning to the railroad about half a mile below the shanty. Continuing this route until half daylight, we concluded to leave the track and strike off into the country and camp there for the day. We had gone a mile, or such a matter, when we came up to a strip of woods in which was a deserted hut.
“Here’s where I eat chicken,” said Utley, as soon as he set eyes on the place. “I don’t stir from here, cops or no cops, till my belly stops grumbling. Do you all hear?”
I waited for one of the others to protest against building a fire, but no word came, so I spoke up, though much against my will: “For heaven’s sake, Utley, don’t attempt to roast your chicken here. It’s daylight now, and smoke can be seen for miles. It’ll betray us, as sure as hades.”
“Now, youngster, stop your confounded blathering,” was his reply. “I’ll tell you once for all, my belly isn’t going hungry when chicken’s around.”
And, true to his threat, he started a fire, which sent up a cloud of smoke, and after half an hour he passed around portions of the fowl, which, though not well enough cooked, was most grateful eating. I was too hungry to refuse a drumstick when GeorgeWilson handed me one, and I confess that I ate it greedily, not having had a morsel to eat for fully thirty-six hours. I had disdainfully declined to partake of Utley’s pie in the ravine away back.
“Now that you’ve made a smoke, Jack,” said I, “let’s move our camp to another clump of woods I see about a mile farther on, before the fire of another sort comes on the heels of your smoke.”
My persuasion was potent, and presently we were located in a sort of hollow on a wooded side-hill. At the base of the hill was a thick undergrowth, and beyond that was a brook in a meadow. We had a splendid vantage, from which we could see any one approaching from the lowland. But our rear faced the railroad, and at the top of the hill was an open ploughed field. As to danger coming from over the hill at the rear, most of us thought that it wouldn’t reach us that way.
The time had now come when the treasure satchel was to be opened and the division made. Eddie Hughes was master of the treasury, and as such divided the cash and bonds into six equal parts. This was interesting to me, for I wasn’t sure that I would be reckoned in a share and share alike, but would be put off with a few hundred dollars. The total amount of the haul was a few hundreds more than two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, consequently I was given forty-two thousand for my share, seven thousand of which was in paper money.
Strange things have happened in my life of turmoil, but no incident has impressed me in so peculiar a manner as when my eyes fell on the first twenty-dollar bill handed me by Hughes. I read on the face of the bill the name of “C. L. Beals, Cashier,” and when I saw after this signature, “First National Bank of Winchendon, Massachusetts,” I knew that the author of that signature was a man with whom I had done thousands of dollars’ worth of business, had sold him carload upon carload of grain and other merchandise. It seemed as though there must be some hidden significance in that strip of paper money, belonging away up in New England, coming into my possession as a part of the proceeds of the first bank burglary in which I had engaged. There I sat on the side-hill on Ohio soil and looked long on this reminder of my own native hills far away.
Presently George Wilson asked me if I were magnetized by the money god, which aroused me from my revery. I said nothing of what had so engrossed me, deeming it too sacred for discussion. I carefully wrapped my treasure in a piece of brown paper which Hughes gave me, and put it in my pocket. All but Wilson did likewise. He scratched away some dead leaves from under a log and hid his share there. It was in a small satchel. He said that he wouldn’t lose it in case we were surprised by the constables.
In thinking over my treasure I could not but feel some satisfaction in possessing it, though I had committeda crime. But a week before I had left New York with only a few dollars, five of which I could actually claim as my own. Here I was, the owner of more than forty thousand dollars. I felt myself growing so satisfied with having this money, gained through crime, that I tried to crush the feeling. It seemed impossible. There was some compensation, at least, in having the “name” and the “game.” Hitherto I had had the “name” and some one else had the game. In the former case I had been dealt out rare injustice, in which I had lost my hard-earned competence, but now, though I had the name of being a thief, yet I also had the “game,” and that several thousands of dollars more than I had ever possessed. But on the heels of these reflections, some of which were far from soothing, I was presently drawn to the fact that I was not yet out of the woods, possibly my revery being interrupted by hearing Big Bill tell what his plans would be when he got back to New York.
“Better not count your chickens before they’re hatched,” was my comment, in a tone of warning, yet withal said good-naturedly.
Jack Utley, who had been discussing Big Bill’s plans, seized upon the opportunity to take another thrust at me. Said he: “You’re always conjuring up bugaboos. How the devil is it possible for the cops to trail us here in these woods?”
“Squawking fowls and smoking fires, Jack Utley,” I retorted, being unable to refrain from poking backat him. He shrugged his broad shoulders, smothered an oath, and went back to the air-castle building with Bill. After they had tired of that pastime, they and the others spread themselves out on the ground and prepared to sleep. Before Wilson dropped off he and I had agreed to leave the party at nightfall and strike out on our own hook. I told him that he might rest easy; that I would stay on guard, as I feared that we would not get out of our troubles so easily as some of us thought.
The day wore on slowly enough, as I watched the declining sun or kept my ears trained for any suspicious sounds and my eyes alert for anything that might indicate the approach of the enemy. I longed for twilight, when Wilson and I would leave the gang.