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

CHAPTER XVI.
THE CAPTURE OF WOOD HITE.

On the second day after the aforegoing events occurred Fritz happened to glance into the water tank of the Terror and noticed that their supply of liquid was running low.

This was very unpleasant, as they were then nowhere near any spring or stream, and he walked into the front room where Jack sat talking to Timberlake, and said:

"Dere don't vos more as enough water to last bis to-night."

"That's too bad. Can't we get a supply near here?" said Jack.

"Not that I am aware of," answered the sheriff. "But, about three miles along the road there is a farm-house, and we can get all we want from the countryman's cistern."

"Suppose we go there and try," suggested Jack.

"Vell, I dell Dim," said the Dutchman.

He then spoke to the old sailor who was steering, and Tim sent the stage in the direction indicated.

In a short time they came in view of the farm-house.

This had scarcely been done when Tim caught sight of a man with his head swathed in bandages rush out of the house to the stable from whence he soon emerged on horseback.

He gave one glance back at the stage and then, plunging spurs into his steed's flanks, he dashed away.

Off he went across the rolling country at a furious pace, his peculiar action at once arresting Tim's attention.

The old sailor only had one eye, but it was a good one, for no sooner had he seen the fugitive's face when he recognized him as that mercenary member of the James Boys' gang called Wood Hite, and noted as a desperate ruffian.

"Gee whiz!" gasped Tim.

"What's the matter?" asked Jack.

"Thar goes Wood Hite!"

"Is that so?"

"Ay, an' his head is all bandaged!"

"He must have been wounded."

"Sartin, and he wuz in thar farm-house tryin' ter git well."

"He must have seen us coming and got scared out."

"Jist my opinion, Jack."

The young inventor came out on the front platform.

He gazed long and earnestly at the flying rider and then said:

"You have made no mistake–that's Hite."

"This ere ole eye o' mine are a regler telescope."

"Chase the villain, Tim!"

"You bet I will."

And pulling the dynamo lever over as far as it would go, the old sailor spun the wheel around, turning the stage from the high road, and sent her flying after the horseman.

"If he thinks we can't run on anything but hard ground," said Jack, grimly, "he will soon learn his error."

"That ere's a mighty good nag he's a-ridin'."

"Yes–all the James Boys' gang are well mounted."

"Ain't Hite ther lubber wots allers grubbin' fer money?"

"Yes, he, the most grasping one of the gang."

"D'yer reckon as thar's any more o' his messmates in ther farm-house?"

"No, I believe not. If there had been, they would have come out with him," replied Jack, as they flew past the old house.

"S'posen we runs him down?"

"I'll make him admit where the rest of the gang is."

"Ay, now, that's a blamed good plan."

The bandit had taken refuge in the house, as he had suffered a very bad wound, but having seen from one of the upper bed rooms that the stage was coming, he took alarm and fled as has been recorded.

By so doing, he greatly amazed the good people with whom he had been stopping, as they knew nothing of his real character in consequence of a lie he told them.

The man was wild with fear.

He spurred and lashed his horse furiously.

And he kept his lead with remarkable speed.

The Terror rattled and bumped over the rougher grass, but found it pretty good going anyway, as the open country of Missouri is generally fairly level.

Tim watched the contest with interest.

He could not help admiring the bandit's good riding.

But he also saw that the stage slowly but surely began to gain.

"Fer a short dash, that was prutty good!" he remarked.

"In a long race no animal on earth could run against us though," replied Jack smiling.

"See how we're overhaulin' ther lubber!"

"In a few minutes well reach him, Tim, and—"

Bang!

The fugitive fired back.

Zing! came the bullet.

It grazed Jack's head.

One inch nearer and it would have killed him!

"Hit yer?" asked Tim, in alarm.

"No, just missed," coolly replied the inventor.

"Gee! it hummed like a bumble bee!"

"Yes, it was a dangerous shot."

"Shall I heave him one, an' drop him?"

"No! I want to take him alive."

On they continued to go until at last the Terror was very close to the bandit.

"There is nothing can save you from capture now!" Jack shouted at him. "Surrender, you dog!"

"I'm blowed if I will!" roared Wood Hite.

He made one last supreme effort to forge ahead, but finding he could not do it, he leveled his revolver at Tim.

Jack had a pistol in hand.

He aimed, and fired it at Hite's weapon.

Simultaneous with the explosion of the bullet there came a wild howl from the bandit, and his pistol flew up in the air, ruined beyond repair.

"I'm struck!" he groaned.

"Will you quit?" demanded Jack.

"Don't drop me and I will."

"All right! Dismount!"

The fugitive pulled in the panting and sweating horse, and Tim stopped the electric stage.

Down to the ground jumped the bandit, and raising his hands above his head he roared:

"Mind you now–no games, partner."

"What was you doing in that farm house?"

"Getting over the wounds you gave me."

"Where are the rest of the gang?"

"I don't know."

"Come, come! No lies!"

"I tell you I don't know."

"We'll see," said Jack, pulling out his watch and drawing a bead on the man. "It is now three minutes to four. At precisely four o'clock, unless you tell us where I can find the James Boys, I'll fire!"

"Say! don't do that!" cried the bandit, in alarm.

"That's the law."

"But I really don't—"

"One minute."

"For Heaven's sake, let up!"

"You are wasting valuable time, Wood Hite."

"If I knew I'd tell you quick enough."

"Your time on earth is growing mighty short."

"Won't anything else satisfy you?"

"No. Two minutes!"

"Good Lord A'mighty!"

"Speak–quick!"

"It's as much as my life is worth!"

"Very well. Ten seconds more!"

The outlaw was as pale as death.

The bandages around his head added to the look of unutterable woe upon his haggard face.

He trembled like an aspen, and burst into a cold, clammy perspiration, and was breathing heavily.

Jack glanced up from his watch.

"Time's up!" he exclaimed.

"Mercy!"

"Speak, or perish!"

"Yes! yes! I'll tell."

"Well?"

"To-morrow at two o'clock they'll be in Husking Valley."

"What for?"

"To raid the town."

"Any particular place?"

"Yes–the bank."

"Good! We'll be there. What's the plan?"

"Jess did not mention it."

"That will do."

"Can I go now?"

"Oh, no; we want you."

"What for?"

"To go with us. I want to see if you lied. Come here!"

Wood Hite slouched up to the stage, cast a regretful glance at his horse which was browsing the grass, and Tim tied his hands behind his back.

He was then hustled into the stage, and Jack had a short conversation with Timberlake about the place where the alleged raid was to occur.

The town was a place remote from where they then were, and the sheriff directed Tim in which direction to go.

Meeting with another farm house, they procured some water and then sped away.

That night they arrived in the vicinity of Husking Valley, and Jack entered the town to reconnoiter the ground.