Chapter 12

THE FIGHT IN THE CANYON.

"Halt! Who goes there?"

"Oh, Lor'! what's this?"

"Is that the Independence stage?"

"Yes. Don't shoot! I cave!"

"Ah! do not alarm yourselves; we are friends."

Jack turned on the search-light as he spoke and beheld four horses pulling an old fashioned yellow stage coach, on each side of which burned two lamps.

Upon the box sat an old jehu, Sandy Ellis by name, who had driven that vehicle for quarter of a century over that route.

He was a gray-whiskered old fellow, with a bony face and a long red nose, and his stage contained half a dozen people, who were excitedly discussing the stoppage and the meaning of that brilliant electric light.

"For the Lord's sake, boy, what's that you've got there--the sun?"

"Only an electric search-light," laughed Jack.

"But where's your team?"

"Don't need any for this electric stage."

"What's that--a sort of a trolley car?"

"Yes, without the overhead pole and wire."

"Thunderation! this beats everything! What do you want?"

"I wish to protect you from the James Boys."

"Say, now, is them varmints around?"

"Laying for this stage,"

"Wow!" gasped Sandy. "That's terrible, so it is!"

Jack gave all hands an account of what happened, and when he finished the stage passengers were in a cold sweat.

They wanted to turn right back.

But Jack wouldn't allow this.

"I ain't sure whether they're ahead or behind us," said he. "At any rate you can't turn back now."

"But they may kill us!" said a fat man in the stage.

"They're bound to rob as anyway," asserted a man with a valise filed with genuine diamond jewelry samples.

"That depends entirely upon all hands present," said Jack. "Are all of you armed?"

Every one but a woman in the stage assented, and Sandy pulled out a big navy revolver from his boot leg, and remarked:

"You can just gamble on it I am."

"Any of you afraid to fight, if it became necessary?"

"I'd rather not if I could avoid It," replied a thin fellow, with a hacking cough. "Fighting isn't my fort."

"Waal, I guess you'll pull a trigger if you saw a gang of masked bandits trying to bore a hole in your head."

"I fancy I would."

"That's settled then. Now you see my stage?"

"Yes, and a queer one she is!" commented Sandy.

"She is bullet proof. I propose that as she is safer than your ramshackle old wooden affair, all hands get inside of her, and let me carry you through."

"But what about my horses?" asked Sandy.

"Hitch them on to this vehicle. Throw those rubbers over my stage to hide her outline. You can also put your lamps on here and drive for us. That will draw the bandits from cover. My friends are all armed and ready to fire the moment they show their noses."

Every one but the lady liked the plan.

She, of course, was averse to fighting of any kind.

As there was no way out of their dilemma, and Jack's offer gave promise of protecting them from robbery and, perhaps, death, every-one got into the Terror.

The lamps and horses were transferred.

"You can leave the stage here," said Jack to Sandy.

"No one will molest it until you return for it to-morrow."

"Are you pretty sure about them there James Boys?"

"Decidedly, or I wouldn't have troubled myself to do this for you," replied Jack.

"Well, it would do no harm, even if we are disappointed about meeting them," said the old driver.

They had been obliged to tie the traces to the Terror, but there was no pull on them as Sandy had only to keep his horses trotting while Jack made the machine run itself.

Owing to the gloom of the night, the rubbers on the body of the Terror, the horses, lamps and driver any one would have imagined it was the regular old stage coach.

The people inside talked in low tones and every man aboard held his weapon ready for use.

Down pattered the rain drops with a monotonous sound, and the hoofs of the four horses splashed up the muddy water from the puddles in the road and beat on the hard ground with the regularity of clockwork.

They rattled along in this manner for quarter of an hour and ran from the regular road into a dark canyon.

Here the walls towered up hundreds of feet.

It was a very gloomy place.

"We must be pretty near the ledge road now, ain't we?" Jack asked.

"Yes; in five minutes this 'ere canyon will swing us out on it," replied Sandy. "That's where we're to look for them, ain't it?"

"Yes--if not sooner---"

"Hark! D'you hear that?"

Jack listened intently.

The wind was howling over the crags.

All the trees and bushes were loudly rustling.

But it was not this that attracted the driver's attention.

Jack quickly caught the sound of pattering hoofs coming toward the vehicle from both sides.

Then a stentorian voice roared out:

"Halt!"

"What--me!" shouted Sandy.

"Yes--you!" came the reply.

And at the same moment Jesse James, mounted on his wonderful coal black steed, Siroc, dashed up beside the stage.

He was followed by his entire band.

Although he and the rest were masked, Jack knew his voice at once, and shrank back to conceal his features in the collar of his rubber coat, which was turned up around his neck.

In a moment the whole gang was about the Terror.

Sandy reined in his horses.

Then he growled:

"What do you want?"

"Throw up your hands!"

"No, I won't! You're thieves!"

"Obey, or I'll blow your head off."

This order was accompanied by the click of a pistol, and it was poked over toward the old driver's face.

Sandy dropped the reins, and Jack stopped the Terror.

This was no sooner done when two of the bandits cut the traces, and delivering the horses a blow, sent them galloping away.

"Oh, Lor'! There goes my nags!" roared Sandy.

"Shut up, and hand over your valuables."

"Ain't got none!" roared the old driver.

"Give me some light, boys, and we'll go through the passengers."

The next moment a dozen dark lanterns in the hands of the horsemen flashed out upon the Terror.

They recognized her instantly.

"Duped!" yelled Jesse. "It's the electric stage!"

"Fire, boys!" shouted Jack.

A deadly volley was poured from within the Terror, and many a yell of pain from the outlaws plainly told how effective some of them had been.

They dashed their lanterns to the ground and galloped off.

But that did no good.

Jack turned on the search-light.

Its broad glare brightly lit up the canyon, and they saw the bandits galloping ahead of them.

"Give it to them again!" cried Jack.

The inmates of the Terror let drive a second volley.

Crack, bang!

Crack, bang!

Crack, bang!

Shot after shot pealed out.

Jesse James never was more furious.

He yelled at his men, and then screamed:

"Fire back! Obey, or I'll fire at you yourselves!"

"By thunder, this was a surprise!" groaned Frank.

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Bang! went the shots fired by the gang.

A storm of bullets flew back at the stage.

Poor old Sandy Ellis suffered death for his temerity.

A bullet struck him in the breast, and he uttered a groan and fell to the ground, never to rise again.

"They've killed Sandy!" cried Jack.

His words aroused the rage of the inmates of the Terror.

"B'ar down on ther pirates!" gasped Tim.

Jack sent the machine racing after the bandits.

There was one of the masked riders directly in front of the Terror, and the villain turned in his saddle, aimed a revolver point-blank at Jack, and was just upon the point of firing when the ram struck his horse.

It toppled the bandit from the animal's back, his pistol was discharged, the ball flew up in the air, and the horse was impaled and killed.

As the Terror pushed ahead, the two front wheels ran over the bandit's neck, almost putting an end to him.

Back recoiled the stage, the ram was withdrawn from the horse, and then she dashed ahead again in hot pursuit of the gang who all rode like fury now, to escape.

As they plunged ahead, the inmates of the stage kept up a pitiless fusillade of shots against the flying outlaws.