CHAPTER XVIII
A CLEVER TRICK
At the foot of the rear stairs in the home of Widow Friestone was anordinary door latched at night, but without any lock. When Mike Murphywas groping about in the blank darkness, where nothing was familiar, hedid not know, as has been said, of the steepness of the steps. Thus heplaced his shoe upon vacancy, and, unable to check himself, bumped to thebottom, striking every step on the route, and banging against the doorwith such force that the latch gave away, it flew open, and he sprawledon his hands and knees, still grasping the rifle with which he had setout to hunt for burglars. He was not hurt, and bounded like a rubber ballto his feet.
An amazing scene confronted him. A young man, his face covered with amask, had just drawn back the ponderous door of the safe, and by thelight of a small dark lantern in his left hand was trying to unlock oneof the inner compartments, with a bunch of small keys held in his right.It was at this instant that the racket followed by the crash which burstopen the door paralyzed him for the moment. He straightened up and staredthrough the holes of his mask at the apparition that had descended uponhim like a thunderbolt, in helpless amazement.
If he was terrified, Mike Murphy was not. Forgetful of his shillaleh inthe shape of the Springfield, he made a leap at the fellow.
"S'render, ye spalpeen!" he shouted. The criminal answered by viciouslyhurling the lantern into the face of his assailant, and in the act, themask somehow or other was disarranged and slipped from its place. It wasonly a passing glimpse that Mike caught of him, but it identified him asone of the young men who had attacked Alvin Landon some nights beforewhile passing through the stretch of woods near his home.
The throwing of the lamp was the best thing the burglar could have done,for it caught the Irish youth fairly between the eyes and dazed him foran invaluable second or two. Instant to seize his advantage, the criminalmade a leap through the rear window, which he had left open for thatpurpose, and sped like a deer across the back yard of the premises. Mikewas at his heels and shouted:
"Stop! stop! or I'll blow ye into smithereens! I've got a double barreledcannon wid me, and if ye want to save yer life, s'render before I touchher off!"
Perhaps if the fugitive had not been in so wild a panic he would havegiven himself up, for no man willingly invites the discharge of a deadlyweapon a few paces behind him. But the youth was bent on escape if thefeat were possible and ran with the vigor of desperation.
Less than a hundred yards over the garden beds and grass took the fellowto the paling boundary over which he leaped like a greyhound. Mike wouldhave done the same, but feared it was too much for him. Moreover, hisshort legs could not carry him as fast as those of the fleeing one. Thepursuer rested a hand on the palings and went over without trouble. Bythat time the fugitive was a goodly distance off in the act of clearing asecond fence. In dread lest he should get away, Mike called:
"Have sinse, ye lunkhead! I don't want to kill ye, but hanged if I don't,if ye fail to lay down yer arms."
The appeal like all that had preceded it was unheeded. The burglar musthave taken heart from the fact that his pursuer had already held his fireso long. Running with unusual speed, he took advantage of the shadowoffered by several back buildings and continued steadily to gain. When hemade a quick turn and whisked out of sight, the exasperated Mike droppedto a rapid walk.
"Arrah, now, if this owld gun was only in shape! there wouldn't be anysich race as this, as Brian O'Donovan said--phwat's that?"
When within twenty feet of a small barn, a burly man stepped out of thegloom and with a large gun levelled gruffly commanded:
"Throw up your arms or I'll let moonlight through you!"
"I don't see any room for argyment, as Jed Mitchell said whin----"
"Up with your hands! and drop that gun!" thundered the other, and Mikelet the old rifle fall to his feet and reached up as if trying to holdthe moon in place. Which incident requires an explanation.
Gerald Buxton, the father of Jim, had no sooner heard the story of hisboy than he decided, as had been related, that something was wrong at thepost office. He had read of the many robberies in southern Maine duringthe preceding summer, else he might not have been so quick to reach aconclusion. He woke his wife, told her his belief and then took down hisshotgun from over the deer's antlers in the kitchen. Both barrels werealways loaded, but to make sure of no lack of ammunition, he put a numberof extra shells loaded with heavy shot into his pockets.
"Remember," he said impressively to his son, "to stay home and not showyour nose outside the door while I'm gone."
"Yaws, sir," meekly replied Jim, who three minutes later, unseen by hismother, sneaked out of the back door and reached the battlefield directlybehind his parent.
Mr. Buxton had never had any experience with house breakers, and did somequick thinking from the moment he left his front gate until he arrived onthe scene. Nothing seemed more natural than that the ruffians would notapproach the house from the front, but by the rear. The light which Jimsaw must have come from the back part of the store. For the gang to maketheir entrance from the main street would have been far more dangerous.
Because of this theory, Mr. Buxton crossed the road directly before hisown house, passed through the alley of a neighbor, and followed acircuitous course which compelled him to climb several back fences. Buthe knew all the people, and in case he was questioned could readilyexplain matters.
So in due time he came to the barn of one of his friends, and had turnedto pass around it when to his astonishment a man dashed toward him on adead run. Buxton was alert, and pointing his weapon, crisply commanded:
"Stop or I'll fire!"
The panting fellow obeyed with the exclamation:
"I'm so glad!"
"Glad of what?"
"That you came as you did. There are burglars in the post office!"
"That's what I thought, but wasn't sure. Who are you and why are you insuch an all-fired hurry?"
"One of them is chasing me. I tried to wake the postmistress, when heheard me and I had to run for my life. How thankful I am that youappeared just in time!"
"Where is the scandalous villain?" demanded Mr. Buxton, glancing on allsides.
"He will be here in a minute."
"I shan't wait for him; tell me where he is."
The fugitive, who was momentarily expecting the appearance of hispursuer, pointed to the barn around which he had just dashed.
"He is coming from there. Look out, or he'll shoot you!"
"I'm ready for him," exclaimed the angered citizen as he hurriedlytrotted off and confronted Mike Murphy a few seconds later.
We have learned of the pointed conversation which passed between them.Mike's first thought was that it was one of the robbers who had held himup, but there was no gainsaying the argument brought to bear against him.He remained with hands uplifted, awaiting the will of his captor.
"So you're one of those post office robbers," said Mr. Buxton, partlylowering his weapon.
"Not that I know of," replied Mike, beginning to scent the truth.
"Have you a pistol?"
"The only deadly wippon I have is me pocketknife, with its two bladesbroke and the handle being lost some time since."
"Where is the rest of your gang?" demanded the man, stepping closer tothe youth.
"The two frinds that I have are wid the widder Mrs. Friestone, doingtheir best to entertain the leddy and her daughter, while I started outto chase one of the spalpeens that run too fast for me to catch."
Mr. Buxton stepped still nearer. He was becoming doubtful.
"Who the mischief are you, anyway?"
"Mike Murphy, born in Tipperary, in the County of Tipperary, Ireland, andlately, arrove in Ameriky."
"What are you doing here?"
"Standing still for the time, as Pat Mulrooney said whin the byes tiedhim to the gate post and wint off and left him."
"Ain't you one of those post office robbers?"
The question told Mi
ke the whole truth. It was a clever trick that hadbeen played upon him, and his musical laugh rang out on the still night.
"What made ye have that opinion?"
"I just met a young chap the other side of this barn, and when I stoppedhim he said he was running away from an enemy."
"Which the same was the thruth."
"And that one of the gang was chasing him, meaning to shoot him."
"It's mesilf that would have shot if I'd had a gun wid a conscience, furI catched the spalpeen when he was opening the safe of Widder Friestone,and I made after him; but most persons can run faster than mesilf, owingto me short legs, and he was laving me behind, whin ye interfared."
"Do you mean to tell me that first fellow was one of the burglars?" askedthe astounded Mr. Buxton.
"As sure as ye are standing there admiring me looks."
"Confound the rapscallion! I'll get him yet!" and the irate citizendashed off with the resolution, to put it mildly, of correcting the errorhe had made.