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 trampturned to the open door and entered. Seated on an empty barrel, hisfoot executing vigorous time to his own music, sat the magician of thehorse-hair bow.
Leaning against the bar, or seated at the small tables scatteredaround, the tramp saw a goodly number of the disciples of Bacchus,while from an inner room the clicking of ivory chips and halfsuppressed expressions of "I'll see you an' go you tenner better." "Afull house pat, what 'er ye got," designated the altar at which theworshipers 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 ofliquors"--to quote the sign which called attention to these necessaryluxuries.
A large stove stood in the center of the room, and a number of smalltables were placed around promiscuously, The bar-tender, asmooth-faced, beetle-browed rascal, was engaged in shaking dice for thedrinks with a customer, and, to the music of the violin, a light-footedIrishman was executing his national jig, to the great delight and nosmall edification 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, butits a cold day when Barney O'Hara will let a bog-trotter go dry--nameyour poison."
"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 aswater in 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, severalof the roysterers sprang forward, and Barney, with an exclamation ofamazement, put his hand on a Pinkerton detective star, with itsterrible eye in the center, which had fallen on the counter with thenickles and dimes 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,and bullying swagger, stepped from behind the bar and advanced on thetramp, his face distorted with rage, and his fists doubled in a mostaggressive manner.
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 pugilisticwhisky-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 downa fifty-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 witha handful of five dollar bills, and quiet reigned over the place. Thebar-keeper, who spied a possible good customer in the tramp, hadentered into a little conversation at the end of the counter, on whichthe tramp leaned, the embodiment of solid comfort, puffing his cigarvigorously, 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, andit's the 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 ofthe drink-compounder, and in an earnest tone, a
sked:
"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 wasa profesh, and he told me that you were another, and had a plan to dosome fine work without asking permission of the owners. So I am to meethim again to-night, and see if you will not take me as your pal. Youhave your 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 carryingfifty-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 connectionwith the robbery, had taken the valise, which was sent from St. Louisto Leavenworth, had obeyed the order, for it was evidently an orderwhich was written on the tag, and given 'it to Cook,' it would be fairto infer 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 andthe Cook 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 arobbery such 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,and with lazy steps, lounged toward the shop.