CHAPTER XXV. ROBBERS.
It was a light night, but the new moon looked just like it wasblowed through the sky by the high wind. I noticed that, because Iremembered it afterwards.
"Now I was outside, I didn't know which way to turn. If I run toeither side, there were the men, and if I took toward the pig-penthey'd see me. And they'd be comin' around and 'd ketch me where Iwas."
"What did you do?" exclaimed aunt Corinne, preserving a rigidattitude.
The toll-woman laughed cheerfully as she poured out more tea forherself, Grandma Padgett having waved back the teapot spout.
"I took the only chance I saw and jumped for that there cave."
Both Robert and his aunt arose from their chairs to look out of theback door.
The cave was a structure which I believe is peculiar to the West,being in reality a kind of dug-out. It flourished before people builtsubstantial houses with cellars under them, and held the samerelation to the family's summer economy as the potato, apple, andturnip holes did to its winter comfort. Milk, butter, perishablefruit, lard, meats, and even preserves were kept in the cave. It wasintended for summer coolness and winter warmth. To make a cave, youlifted the sod and dug out a foot of earth. The bottom was coveredwith straw. Over this you made boards meet and brace each other withthe slope of the roof. The ends were boarded up, leaving room for adoor, and the whole outside sodded thickly, so that a cave lookedlike a sharp-printed bulge in the sward, excepting at that end wherethe heavy padlocked door closed it. It was a temptation to bad boysand active girls; they always wanted to run over it and hear thehollow sound of the boards under their feet. I once saw a cave breakthrough and swallow one out of such a galloping troup, to his greatdismay, for he was running over an imaginary volcano, and when he satdown to his shoulders in an apple-butter jar, the hot lava seemedready made to his hand.
From the toll-woman's cave-roof, spikes of yellow mustard wereshooting up into the air. The door looked as stout as the opening toa bank vault, though this comparison did not occur to the children,and was secure with staple and padlock and three huge hinges.Evidently, no mischievous feet had cantered over the ridge of thiscave.
It stood a few yards from the back door.
"I had the key in my pocket," said the toll-woman, "and ever sincethen I've never carried it anywhere else. I clapped, it into thepadlock and turned, but just as I pulled the door I heard feet comin'around the house full drive. Instead of jumpin' into the cave Ijumped behind it. I thought they had me, but I wasn't goin' to becrunched to death in a hole, like a mouse. My stocking-feet slipped,and I came down flat, but right where the shadow of the house and theshadow of the cave fell all over me. If I hadn't slipped I'd beenrunnin' across that field, and they'd seen me sure. Folks around heremade a good deal of fuss over the way things turned out, but I don't,take any more credit than's my due, so I say it just happened that Ididn't try to run further.
"The two men outside unlocked the back door and the one inside cameon to the step.
"'There's nothin' in the box and nobody in here,' says he. 'She'sjumped out o' bed and run and carried the cash with her.'
"'Did you look under the bed?' says one of the outsiders. And he ranand looked himself; anyway, he went in the house and came out again.I was glad I hadn't got under the bed.
"'This job has to be done quick,' says the first one. 'And the bestway is to ketch the woman and make her give up or tell where thestuff is hid. She ain't got far, because I heard her open this door.'
"Then they must have seen the cave door stannin' open. I heard themsay something about 'cave,' and come runnin' up.
"'Hold on,' says one, and he fires a pistol-shot right into thecave. I was down with my mouth to the ground, flat as I could lay,but the sound of a gun always made me holler out, and holler I did asthe ball seemed to come thud! right at me; but it stuck in the backof the cave.
"'All right. Here she is!' says the foremost man, and in they allwent. I heard them stumble as they stepped down, and one began toblame the others for crowdin' after him when they ought to stopped atthe mouth to ketch me if I slipped through his fingers.
"I don't know to this hour how I did it," exclaimed the toll-woman,fanning herself, "nor when I thought of it. But the first thing Ifelt sure of I had that door slammed to, and the key turned in thepadlock, and them three robbers was ketched like mice in a trap,instead of it's bein' me!"
Robert Day gave a chuckle of satisfaction, but aunt Corinne bracedherself against the door-frame and gazed upon the magic cave withstill wider eyes.
"Did they yell?" inquired Bobaday.
"It ain't fit to tell," resumed the toll-woman, "what awful languagethem men used; and they kicked the door and the boards until Ithought break through they would if they had to heave the wholeweight, of dirt and sod out of the top. Then I heard somebody comin'along the 'pike, and for a minute I felt real discouraged; for,thinks I, if there's more engaged to help them, what's a poor body todo?
"But 'twas a couple of stock-men, riding home, and they stopped atthe gate, and I run through the open house to tell my story, and itdidn't take long for them with pistols in their pockets and big blackwhips loaded with lead in the handles, to get the fellows out and tie'em up firm. I hunted all the new rope in the house, and they tookthe firearms away from the robbers, and drove 'em off to jail, andthe robbers turned out to be three of the most desp'rate charactersin the State, and they're in prison now for a long term of years."
"What did you do the rest of the night?" inquired Grandma Padgett.
"O, I locked everything tight again, and laid down till daylight,"replied the toll-woman, with somewhat boastful indifference. "Folkshaven't got done talkin' yet about that little jail in my back yard,"she added, laughing. "They came from miles around to look into it andsee where the men pretty nigh kicked the boards loose."
This narrative was turned over and over by the children after theyresumed their journey, and the toll-woman and her cave had faded outin distance. If they saw a deserted cabin among the hollows of thewoods, it became the meeting place of robbers. Now that auntCorinne's nephew turned his mind to the subject, he began to thinkthe whole expedition out West would be a failure--an experience notworth alluding to in future times--unless the family were well robbedon the way. Jonathan and Thrusty Ellen, in the great overland colony,would have Indians to shudder at, a desert and mountains to cross,besides the tremendous Mississippi River. Robert would hate to meetJonathan in coming days--and he had a boy's faith that he should beconstantly repassing old acquaintances in this world--and have noperil to put in the balance against Jonathan's adventures. Of coursehe wanted to come out on the right side of the peril, it does nottell well otherwise.
But while aunt Corinne's mind ran as constantly on robbers, they hadno charms for her. She did not want to be robbed, and was glad herlines had not fallen in the lonely toll-house. Being robbed appearedto her like the measles, mumps, or whooping-cough; more interestingin a neighboring family than in your own. She would avoid it ifpossible, yet the conviction grew upon her that it was not to beescaped. The strange passers-by who once pleasantly varied the road,now became objects of dread. Though Zene got past them in safety, andthough they gave the carriage a wide road, aunt Corinne never failedto turn and watch them to a safe distance, lest they should make atreacherous charge in the rear.
Had they been riding through some dismal swamp, the landscape'sinfluence would have accounted for all these terrors. But it was thepretty region of Western Indiana, containing hills and bird-songsenough to swallow up a thousand stories of toll-gate robberies inhappy sight and sound.
Grandma Padgett, indeed, soon put her ban upon the subject of cavesand night-attacks. But she could not prevent the children thinking.Nor was she able to drive the carriage and at the same time sit inthe wagon when they rode with Zene and stop the flow of recollectionto which they stimulated him. While sward, sky, and trees becameviolet-tinted to her through her glasses, and she calmly meditatedand chewed a bit of c
alamus or a fennel seed, Bobaday and auntCorinne huddled at the wagon's mouth, and Zene indulgently harrowedup their souls with what he heard from a gentleman who had been inthe Mexican war.
"The very gentleman used to visit at your grand-marm's house," saidZene to Robert, "and your marm always said he was much of agentleman," added Zene to aunt Corinne. "Down in the Mexican countrywhen they didn't fight they stayed in camp, and sometimes they'd goout and hunt. Man that'd been huntin', come runnin' in one day scarednigh to death. He said he'd seen the old Bad Man. So this gentlemanand some more of the fine officers, they went to take a look forthemselves. They hunted around a good spell. Most of them gave it upand went back: all but four. The four got right up to him."
"O don't, Zene!" begged aunt Corinne, feeling that she could notbear the description.
But to Robert Day's mind arose the picture of Apollyon, in _Pilgrim'sProgress_, and he uttered something like a snort of enjoyment, saying:
"Go on, Zene."
ZENE'S WILD MAN.]
"I guess it was a crazy darkey or Mexican," Zene was careful toexplain. "He was covered with oxhide all over, so he looked red andwhite hairy, and the horns and ears were on his head. He had a longknife, and cut weeds and bark, and muttered and chuckled to himself.He was ugly," acknowledged Zene. "The gentleman said he never sawanything better calkilated to look scary, and the four men followedhim to his den. They wouldn't shoot him, but they wanted to see whathe was, and he never mistrusted. After a long round-about, theywatched him crawl on all-fours into a hole in a hill, and round themouth of the hole he'd built up a tunnel of bones. The bones smeltawful," said Zene. "And he crawled in with his weeds and bark in hishand, and they didn't see any more of him. That's a true story,"vouched Zene, snapping his whip-lash at Johnson, "but your grandmarmwouldn't like for me to tell it to you. Such things ain't fit forchildren to hear."
Robert Day felt glad that Zene's qualms of repentance always cameafter the offence instead of before, and in time to prevent theforbidden tale.
Yet, having made such ardent preparation for robbers, and tunedtheir minds to the subject by every possible influence, the childrenfound they were approaching the last large town on the journeywithout encountering any.
This was Terre Haute. One farmer on the road, being asked the distance,said, it was so many miles to Tarry Hoot. Another, a little later met,pronounced the place Turry Hut; and a very trim, smooth-looking manwhom Zene classed as a banker or judge, called it Tare Hote. So theinhabitants and neighbors of Terra Haute were not at all unanimous inthe sound they gave her French name; nor are they so to this day.