Jack Wright and His Electric Stage by Noname (books to improve english .TXT) 📖

As the 11:30 A. M. express train from New York was speeding toward the fisher village of Wrightstown, one of the passengers went out on the rear platform of the last car and intently gazed back along the rails.

He was a compactly built man, with rather rough clothing on, and the soft felt hat on his head shaded a bearded face, which denoted a daring, reckless disposition.

A half smothered oath escaped his lips as he caught view of a locomotive chasing the train he was on, for he distinctly saw a man in the cab whom he recognized as one of his worst enemies.

"Sheriff Timberlake!" he growled between his clenched teeth, as a dark scowl mantled his brow. "Curse him! he is hot after us now, and if he overhauls this train he may give us no end of trouble."

"The skunk has followed us all the way from Missouri, and after we saw the sights of New York, and gave him the slip, he must have discovered that we started for home in this train. Now he has evidently hired that locomotive to chase and capture us. I'll go in and tell the boys. We must keep out of his reach."

His anxiety was caused by observing that the pursuing locomotive was slowly but surely gaining on the train.

Opening the door, he passed into the car.

It was occupied by four men, who were part of a gang of outlaws whom he commanded, for the bearded man was the notorious bandit king, Jesse James.

The men who were with him were known as Jim Cummins, Wood Hite, Clell Miller and Frank James–a brother of Jesse.

Sitting in a bunch, they were quietly laughing and talking over their experience in New York, when the chief hurried in with a look of supreme disgust upon his face.

The moment the rest glanced up at him and saw it, they knew something out of the ordinary had happened.

"What's the matter, Jesse?" demanded Jim Cummins.

"You look as if you'd seen a ghost!" laughed Frank, jocularly.

"What sent you out on the rear platform!" asked Wood Hite.

"Timberlake is after us," said Jesse, with a steely glitter in his eyes.

"Thunder!" roared Clell Miller.

With one accord the quartet pulled revolvers from their pockets, bounded to their feet and sprang into the aisle.

A grim smile passed over the face of Jesse James for a moment, and as it faded sway, he made as impatient gesture and said:

"He is on a locomotive that is chasing us."

"Sure!" asked Cummins, with a dubious look.

"I saw him in the caboose."

"Can he overtake us?" asked Frank.

"Eventually; but we mustn't let him."

"How can we prevent it?" queried Miller.

"By jumping off at the next curve and hiding."

"Good!" exclaimed Wood Hite, "Where's the curve?"

"Just before we reach Wrightstown."

"Let's get ready for it then," suggested Frank.

"All right," assented the bandit king; "but be careful that no one detects us. To avoid being seen we must leave by the rear platform."

As he said this he thrust his head out the open window, and peering ahead, he studied the roadbed.

Satisfied with his scrutiny; he said to his companions:

"There's the curve about a mile ahead."

"Well?" demanded Cummins.

"The train is bound to slacken speed when it goes around. A mass of timber, bushes and rocks abutt into the curve. It will hide our movements from the sheriff's view. We can easily hide there."

Stationing themselves near the rear door, they waited.

In a few minutes the cars reached the curve and went around.

As the last car turned they dashed out upon the rear platform, and one after another they sprang to the ground.

Then they plunged late the bushes.

Gathering speed again, the express train ran away without them, and a few minutes afterward a locomotive came flying along in pursuit of it with an engineer, a stoker and the sheriff in the cab.

The bandits glared from their coverts at Timberlake like so many wild beasts as he sped by, ignorant of the trick they played upon him, and nearly all of them gripped their pistols with a burning desire to fire at him.

It would have been too rash to do that.

In fact Jesse observed their anxiety, and hissed in warning tones:

"Don't drop him!"

In a moment more the locomotive was gone.

The outlaws emerged from their places of concealment.

"How long before Timberlake will discover our ruse?" asked Frank.

"If the train goes on, not for an hour yet," replied Jesse, as he cast a swift glance around. "But we are in a sorry plight now."

"How do you mean?"

"You know we all lost every dollar we had, playing faro in the city. How are we going to ride back to Missouri without a cent? It's my opinion that we'll have to do some work about Wrightstown to get ahead. The last dollar I had went for the purchase of tickets to Missouri, which we gave the conductor."

The gang looked very glum.

"What sort of a place is Wrightstown?" asked Cummins, finally.

"I've heard that it's a fisher village. A young fellow named Jack Wright lives there. He's an inventor of electric machines for flying through the air, navigating under water, and running over the land. Everybody has heard of him. He has the reputation of being one of the richest boys in the country. By means of his famous inventions he has made a barrel of money."

"Then he's our game," said Frank, decisively.

"Yes," assented Jesse. "He's about the only one from whom we could expect to make a rich haul. I hope he's at home. I've got a plan in view now by means of which I can bunco him out of several thousands of dollars, if we can operate the game before the Wrightstown Bank closes."

"What are you going to do?" eagerly asked Miller.

"I'll show you when I try the trick. It's a very smooth game, and if I'm clever enough I'll succeed. Come on to the village, and see if we can operate it. We've got to have money. If we can't get it by means of the plan in view, I'm going to lay out the first man I meet, and go through him."

The rest chuckled at this remark.

Going to the village, they found it to be a thriving place at the head of a beautiful bay on the Atlantic sea coast.

There was a bank on the main street, and when it was located, Jesse said to Frank:

"In nearly all banks there is a desk or table, for the benefit of depositors, on which are pens, ink, deposit slips, and blank checks. You go into the bank, and pocket several of the checks. There's an old hostelry down there near the bay called the Sea Spider House. We will register there, and you'll find us in the bar room."

Frank James nodded, and in a moment his compact and wiry body was going rapidly down the street.

Although Frank was a desperate, fearless ruffian, he had a pleasant face, keen gray eyes, a light mustache, and a most quiet air and unassuming manner.

No one would have suspected him of being a bandit, and as he was a fairly good talker, full of grit and coolness, and best suited for the work in hand, Jesse trusted him implicitly.

The outlaws registered at the hostelry with as much sang froid as if their pockets were lined with gold.

They patronized the bar liberally, had the drinks charged to their account, and ordered a fine luncheon.

Frank soon returned.

He had the blank checks.

Handing them to Jesse he said in low tones:

"No trouble at all. The clerks paid no attention to me."

"They'll soon have reason to remember us," grimly answered Jesse.

Telling his companions to remain there until he returned, he left the hotel, asked a pedestrian the way to Jack Wright's house, and having received the desired information, made his way there.

It proved to be a magnificent mansion, standing in the midst of a handsome garden which sloped down to a creek.

There was a fine big workshop standing at the foot of the garden, upon the bank of this creek, in which the young inventor constructed the machines that made him world renowned.

Jesse James boldly ascended the piazza, rang the bell, and an old sailor with a sandy beard, a glass eye and a wooden leg, answered it.

His name was Tim Topstay, and he lived with the inventor and not only aided him to build his inventions, but always went with Jack on the adventurous journeys he made.

"Waal, messmate," said he, in bluff, hearty tones, as he took a chew of navy plug, and scanned the outlaw with his solitary eye. "Wot kin I do fer yer ter-day?"

"Is Mr. Jack Wright in?" politely asked the bandit.

"He are," replied Tim. "D'yer wanter see him?"

"Yes, sir, and on important business too."

"Then step inter ther library an I'll call him fer ye."

Ignorant of the dangerous nature of the caller Tim ushered him into a cozy library and left him there.

A fat young Dutchman was in the room, but he immediately left it, casting an inquiring look at the bandit king.

His name was Fritz Schneider, and he had yellow hair, watery blue eyes, an enormous stomach and a pugnacious temperament.

Fritz and Tim were chums and the fat fellow occupied about the same position in the house as the old marine did.

A few moments afterward Jack Wright entered.

The outlaw keenly sized him up and observed that he was a well dressed young fellow with a sturdy figure, not particularly good looking as his features were very angular, but his dark eyes showed a very high spirit.

"You wish to see me, sir?" he asked, as he studied Jesse and felt a most repugnant sensation creep over him.

"I have called on a begging expedition," bluntly replied the bandit, inventing a plausible lie. "I live in Missouri, and wish to go home. I was unlucky enough to lose my pocket-book. I am an utter stranger here, and did not know what to do to raise ten dollars to pay my car fare. Having been told that you was a charitable man, I wish to know if you will lend me the money. I will gladly mail the amount to you when I reach home."

"Why certainly I'll let you have it," replied Jack.

"To prove to you that I want the money only for the purpose I mentioned," glibly preceded the outlaw, "you can make out a check payable to the bearer, and you will find the voucher stamped or endorsed by the railroad company in payment for my ticket."

"I would have been obliged to give you a check anyway," laughed Jack, "for I've only got three or four dollars in cash in my pocket. Just wait, and I'll give you the check."

He sat down at his desk, and Jesse saw him pick up several checks exactly like the ones purloined from the bank by Frank.

Jack filled out one of the orders for ten dollars.

He handed it to Jesse, and the bandit thanked him like a very grateful man, repeated his assurance that he would refund the money upon his arrival at home, and then departed.

Jesse James was delighted at his success thus far.

Returning to the hotel, he procured pen and ink, retired to his room and studied Jack's check intently.

The signature to it was a very peculiar one that the most expert forger in the world would have found it almost impossible to imitate.

But the rest of the writing