CHAPTER VII

JACK TAKES A PRISONER

Jack had been gone a couple of hours and it had become quite dark, when our dog Found, by growling, pricking up his ears, and looking toward the road, gave notice that some one was approaching.

On listening closely we could hear some one coming, but the tramping sounded like that of a horse. We had made no light after dark, for we did not intend to cook any supper and our experience in the Indian country had taught us to dispense with lights when in the vicinity of an enemy.

As soon as we were assured that the coming party, whoever they were, were making for our camp, Tom whispered: "Get your gun an' follow me." With that he took his rifle and, advancing stealthily for several paces toward the approaching persons--whose voices we could hear--he squatted down in a patch of weeds on the path leading to the road while I followed and did the same. We had chained the dog to a wheel of the wagon lest he should rush on the newcomers before we could find out who they were.

We had scarcely got settled in the position we had taken when we discerned two dark bodies nearing us that seemed to be a man on foot and, just behind him, a mounted man.

Letting them come on till they were within a few feet of the muzzles of our rifles, Tom's voice suddenly rang out:

"_Halt! Who comes there?_"

We could now see plainly that there were but two persons, a footman and a mounted man, and heard a prompt response from the horseman, in the unmistakable voice of our Irishman, as they both suddenly stopped.

"Jack, with a prisoner!" This sounded agreeable but mystifying, but the speaker enlightened us by adding: "I've captured Tucker, the jayhawker, and his horse."

We all moved back to our tent and struck a light to take a look at Jack's captures and hear his explanation. But the Irishman declined to talk in the presence of his prisoner more than to answer a few commonplace questions.

By the light of the candle we saw Jack had tied the prisoner's arms together at the elbows, behind his back, with the end of the jayhawker's lariat, while with the other end securely fastened to the horn of his saddle he had been driving the fellow before him.

The desperado seemed now very crestfallen and by no means pugnacious and had nothing to say.

"What are you going to do with him, Jack?" I asked in hearing of the captive.

"Oh, make a 'spread eagle' of him on a hind wheel of the wagon till morning I suppose, an' then take him down to the timber an' hang him an' be done with him," he replied as he began to put the first part of this programme into execution.

The "spread eagle" is made by requiring the prisoner to stand with his back against a hind wheel of a wagon; his arms are then stretched out on each side and tied by the wrists to the upper rim of the wheel, while his ankles, with feet spread apart, are tied in like manner to the bottom of the wheel. The prisoner can ease himself a little by sitting on the hub of the wheel, but this affords an insecure and uncomfortable seat.

As soon as we had securely spread the big jayhawker on the wheel, Jack left me to watch him, with a caution to see that he did not work himself loose, while he unsaddled and picketed out the fine black horse he had captured. When this was accomplished he called Tom and me off to one side, far enough to be out of hearing of the prisoner, taking the precaution to place the light near the open tent door where it would shine on our "spread eagle," so that we could see if he made any effort to free himself, and then Jack gave us a detailed account of his trip.

"When I got to a place in the timber where I could see the store, I saw that the jayhawkers' horses was all hitched to the fence an' I knew they was inside. Pretty soon they all comes out an' mounts, an' all except this man Tucker struck out toward their camp. After seein' them off, Tucker mounted an' struck off in a different direction, up the creek like. I couldn't make out what he was up to, but I thought I would go in an' have a chat with the storekeeper as soon as the coast was clear. I went in an' had quite a talk with the ol' man, an', sure enough, he had heard enough of their talk to make sure that their plan was about what Tom had guessed it would be. They would go back to their camp an' wait till after midnight, an' then mount an' take a circuit 'round our camp, pass, an' git ahead of us, an' lay for us in the timber at the crossing of the next creek, which the old man says is only a mile and a half from here. Tucker had concluded that while he sent his men back to camp he would ride over the route they intended to take an' look at the lay of the land so as to be able to place his men to the best advantage to get the drop on us.

"In going to the place he had kept up the creek for a piece an' then circled 'round across the prairie to the little creek so's not to be seen or heard by any of us here; but in comin' back he had followed the main road, 'cause he knew it was too dark by that time for any of us to tell who he was as he passed along the road.

"I was just comin' out of the timber, after crossin' the creek this side of the store, on my way back to camp, when I spied him a-comin' down the hill toward me at a walk, an' I squatted down so's to get him 'tween me an' the sky, to get a better view of him, to make sure it was him; an' then I made up my mind to take him in right there.

"So I got back behind a tree right beside the road, an' when he got nearly to me I stepped out with both barrels cocked an' called out to him to halt. He pulled up, sudden like, with a jerk, an' asked: 'What's up? What's up?'

"'Don't you make a motion toward your pistols,' says I, 'or I'll put two big loads of buckshot into you.' I wasn't more'n six feet from him, an' he must have seen that he had no show to get away or draw a gun. 'Now,' says I, 'do just as I order you, an' don't you try any foolishness, or I'll fill you full of lead. First thing,' says I, 'unbuckle that belt an' drop belt an' pistols in the road.' He did so, at the same time saying: 'Pardner, I reckon you've mistook me for somebody else. Who do you take me fur and who are you, anyway?'

"'I've made no mistake,' I answered. 'You're Tucker, the jayhawker, an' I'm Jack, the giant-killer'--an' wasn't that a big bluff? 'Now,' says I, 'back out a step till I pick up your guns.'

"He did so, an' I kept a close watch of him while I gathered in his battery an' buckled the belt around me over my own.

"Then I commanded, 'Dismount!' which he did like a little man, an' I made him tie his horse to a tree; an' then I undone his lariat from his saddle an' made him turn his back to me while I tied his elbows together behind his back with one end of the lariat; an' with the other end made fast to the horn of the saddle, with a good holt of it in me fist, I mounted his fine horse an' druv him before me, as you saw.

"An now what are we to do with him? No doubt he deserves hanging, as they all do, but it ain't my style to kill a helpless prisoner an' I know you nor Tom wouldn't do such a thing, though I told Tucker, comin' along--just to keep him well scared up that we would hang him in the mornin', sure as fate, as soon as it was light enough to see how to do a good job of it; an' I b'lieve he's afeard we're going to do it, for he's been mighty serious ever since. Ef we was nigh to any of Uncle Sam's sogers we could just turn him over to them, an' they'd fix him, sure, for the order is out fer these jayhawkers to be exterminated to death or druv out of Kansas, an' the sogers is huntin' 'em down wherever they can hear of 'em. By the way, the ol' storekeeper told me that he had sent off that letter, by the mail that went past this evenin', to General Hunter, at Leavenworth, askin' him to send a few sogers out along the Santa Fé road to look after these fellers."

While Jack had been telling us all this we had been standing far enough away from the prisoner so that we were sure he could not hear what was said.

Tom, while apparently listening to Jack, asked no questions and offered no suggestions but seemed wrapped in his own thoughts, and I knew, from often having seen him in a similar revery, that he was studying out some "strategy," as he would call it, to spring on our enemies, the jayhawkers.

When Jack came to a pause Tom began:

"Men, we can't afford to fool away much more time with these robbers. An idea struck me when I saw that big fellow tied to the wagon wheel, an' I've been ponderin' on it ever since, an' if we can carry out the scheme I think I see a way of running a bluff on him an' his gang that will scare 'em out of this neighborhood, an' that will be the next best thing to killing 'em an' we won't have to stay here. Now, listen an' I'll give you a hint of my plan. We'll go into the tent, where we'll be close enough to him for Tucker to hear what we're saying ef he listens right sharp, an' I know he'll do that. I'll give you two men a little talk that'll go to show that instead of our being what we've represented ourselves to be--that is, three wolf hunters goin' out to the buffalo range--we are really three soldiers disguised this way an' sent out here to do a little detective service on purpose to locate this gang of jayhawkers, an' that the company of cavalry to which we belong is coming on close behind us, ready to swoop down an' gobble up the gang as soon as I give 'em the word. An' then, when we git Tucker to take this all in we'll manage to let him escape an' carry this news to his gang; an' ef I ain't badly mistaken they'll pack up an' pull out from here as quick as they can get away. Now, mind you, I'm sergeant in charge."

"Be the powers o' mud," exclaimed Jack. "That's a fine scheme if we can only make it work, ef it pans out the way you've planned it. Tom--or sergeant, I should have said--I'll always think that a great general was sp'ilt when they made only a private of you. Now go ahead with your rat killin' an' let's be tryin' it on."

As our conference ended we strolled back to the tent and Tom began giving orders for guarding our prisoner through the night.

"Now, men, we'll divide the night into three parts, like a 'running guard,' an' each one of us'll take a third of the night to stand post. An', mind you, don't go to sleep on post or the prisoner might git away. I guess we'll let Jack take the first watch, an' you, Peck, can come on for the middle tour, an' you may call me up for the last turn. Ef you think you won't git sleepy you might bring out one of the camp-chairs an' take a seat where you can keep a close watch of the prisoner; but ef you find yourself gittin' the least bit drowsy you must get up an' walk about, for it won't do for the sentry to go to sleep to-night."

"Why, fellows," whined the big jayhawker, "you shorely don't mean to leave me in this fix all night, do you? I don't see how I can stan' it so long."

"Well, as to that," said Jack with a fierce look of assumed heartlessness, "ef it'd be any accommodation to you we might be able to rig up some sort of a gallows out about the barn an' swing you off to-night so's you wouldn't have to stan' there all night. Come to think of it," he continued, turning to Tom and me, "that would be a good scheme for us as well as to put the prisoner out of his misery, fer ef we hang him to-night instead of waitin' till mornin' we'll save ourselves the trouble of standing guard over him, an' that's quite an item. What do you say to it?"

But Tom and I decided that with no better light than a candle, which the wind might blow out, the jayhawker might escape, and if he didn't we would not be able to do a good job of hanging with so poor a light. And the prisoner concluded that he would try and worry through the night on the wagon wheel rather than put us to so much inconvenience.