ADVENTURES WITH AMERICAN TRAIN ROBBERS

New Zealand Mail, 29 January 1902, Page 12

ADVENTURES WITH AMERICAN TRAIN ROBBERS

(By Maximilian Foster, in. “Boston Globe.”}

I.—AT THE CENTRAL POLICE OFFICE. Behind the baize-covered portal that screens the penetralia of the secret service, Tower, the chief genius of its mys- 1 teries, confronted an occasion obviously ] annoying. j Wrath hung out a brick-red danger | signal upon his face; his scorn was j loud, and Flanders—the victim—writh- 1 ed, miserably certain that every echo i of these impressive opinions was audible I to the listeners outside. Like all in authority, the chief was j ready to shift the blame, and Flanders, , it appeared, was the most logical eandi- j date, for he had been the last to fail in ' the matter at issue. Through some untoward blunder, the ' quarry had slipped through the depart- ! nient’s fingers, and for this reason heads were being rapped wherever they ap- : peared. In vain Flanders protested, • mildly at first, and then with shrill j iteration. j “But I tell yer,” ho cried, “it ain't , me to blame. I tell yer that now— \ fiat ! Those rubber soles from the rail- j road done it. There’s that Piercy at the head er them—why, he ain’t wuth the fat to fry a dough-nut in, much less to go sleuthin’ after a big un like Doc Burdle. Why ” The chief, with a rare gesture of disdain, cut him short. “That’s all right, Flanders, you’re pretty forward with your excuses. But you can’t dodge me. Piercy is blaming us—leastways he says j you’re to blame.” i “Why, the —the ” Flanders’s usu- J ally expressive speech failed him at this ' juncture, though his mind worked busi- 1 ly for somo blood-curdling expression to suit his opinion of the railroad detective. '‘l'll fix him fair when I see him 1" he cried. “I’ll knock his ” “You’ll do nothing of the sort,” the chief corrected. “I’ll have no men from this office mixing up over there. Do you know him at all?” “Him—Piercy? No. I don’t travel with that kind er cattle. Why, look here, chief; that fellow went down to Seed City, where Doc Burdle hangs out, like as if it was with a brass band, sayin’ he was there to land his man or bust. Why, he might just as well have tried . to flag a comet with a crossin’ flag. Dust? Did Burdle dust? Why, ho went out of that like two-forty on a down grade! You betchcr that town ain't going to let Dock get took without a run for their money. Why, they’re all finger in fist together—the whole bloomin’ hamlet!” 11. THE DESPERADOES OF SEED CITY. Seed City was in the heart of the south-western moonshine district, and was notorious in the annals of the service. It was midway on the Altaino and Pekan RR., a spur that ran south- ! ward from the main line. A month before a gang of train rob- j bers had held up the Western mail, dynamited the express and postal cars, and escaped, unmolested, with their booty. A dozen detectives had gone on the trail —Flanders the last of all. His investigation virtually assured him that Burdle, a notorious outlaw, , was the leader of the band, but before ho could make certain and lay his man . by the heels, Piercy had arrived at Seed City, in the nick of time, it seemed, j to kick the props out from under Flanders’s trap. But even this explanation failed to satisfy the chief. Tower leaned over his desk, and drew out a newspaper clipping—a scrap from the “San Inferno Argus,” a sheet with a neighbourly interest for Seed City. “You read that, now, Flanders,” tho chief exclaimed. "That’s why you’ve got to land that fellow.” Flanders read, his anger rising at every line. The clipping was an anony-. mous letter from Seed City, warning all detectives, investigators, and officials to steer clear of the place under a penalty of a charge of buckshot “rattled agin their ribs.” “That’s Doe Burdle for fair,” snapped Flanders. “Then you go after him,” the chief said, calmly. “You get him or wo say good-bye—is it good-bye, Flanders?” Tho three men outside grinned when Flanders came into view. ‘‘Goin’ to Seed City, Hank?” cried one, with a loud laugh. “You’d better put on a biler-plate vest afore yer go. They’re jes’ layin’ for a party from this department.” Flanders laughed scornfully as ever. “I’ll tako my chance, I guess. But I give yer tho tip, I’d feel better fixed if I c’d land one on that chap Piercv. I’m riled, I am.” 111. —A DETECTIVE IN DISGUISE. Thcro are four trains daily on the Altamo and Pekan railroad—two in the morning, two the afternoon. A desultory freight sometimes plies up and down tho line, but usually the freight ears are linked on ahead oif the passenger coaches. Tho second day after Flanders left the department office it carried a free passenger astride the buffers forward. Piercy, tho road detective, was

sprawling on the express chest in the blind baggage when the conductor looked in and demanded his services. , The train was just drawing into San Inferno; there was an unruly passenger in the smoker, and he must be put off, the conductor said. “It’s a hobo; he started on the buffers, an’ came into the car at the' last stop. Got a tickot that’s no good—ran out afore the flood, and offered to make me look like the day after the night afore ef_ I so much’s lay a finger to him. I ain’t agoin’ to tackle him alone, but you’n me can lay him out stiffeffn a oakwood tie. Come on.” The detective rose and swaggered aft to the smoker. “Hey, you!” he growled, leaning over the man, “that ticket don’t go here.” The man looked up. His legs were sprawled upon the seat in front of him, and his hat was pulled down over his eyes. The menace in the detective’s eye filled him, apparently, with no other sensation than amusement, and when the detective looked him over as if measuring his might, he returned the stare with interest. “Hey, you hear me ?” Piercy asked. “Sure—think I’m deaf?” “You look at here, young feller. You pay up for this here ride or I’ll sling yer off this car harder’n a cotton bale. Hear me ?” “Say, boss, who is this chap?” the man demanded of the conductor. “He ain’t got no brass fixin’s like them er yourn—nawthin’ but a mean hat and a cheap lot er hand-me-downs fur clothes. Who’s the guy, anyhow ?” “You’ll learn yet who I am!” cried the detective, but the conductor pushed him aside. “Come, now, pay up, and don’t be lookin’ for trouble. That’s the railroad detective, and yer likely to be thrown off and yauked in, too.” “Who—Piercy?” roared the man in the. seat. His legs dropped from their attitude of ease, and he rose with a gesture that drove back the other in sudden preparation for an affray. But then ho fell to laughing outrageously. “Guess I’ll settle, then, if it’s Piercy. You takes the tickot to Polktown, I’ll throw' in two bits, and “Yer will not,” cried the conductor. “Here, I aint’ goin' to fool all day along er you. Pay up arter we leave here, or I’ll put yer outer here and sling yer off at Seed City.” “Yer will—hey? Well, jus’ yer try it wunst!” They were already drawing into San Inferno, and the conductor and the detective walked to the car door. The man in the seat, setting his legs upon the cushions, once more drew his hat brim over his eyes, and folding his arms, fell into an attitude of ease. Behind him was a long, thin mountaineer, a fellow with broad, bony hands and glittering eyes. He had aivaited the climax of the negotiations between the train hands and the passenger, and now ho leaned over and touched him on the shoulder. IV.—HE ARRIVES IN SEED CITY. “Don’t yer give in, friend. It’s Seed City ilex’, and there’ll be a right smart crowd there to give yer a hand.” Then lie fell back into his seat, and the other, smiling grimly, once more resumed his repose. “Come, now, pay up, young feller!” It was the conductor returning. Piercy stood at his shoulder, ono baud on a seat back to steady himself against the swaying of the car. But the other hand was ready to grapple with his subject when the time should come, and Piercy, figuratively speaking, was a. colossus of eagerness and a hero in his wrath.

Tiio passenger rose. “Say,” he demanded, “how long’s take to git. ter Seed City ?” “Three minutes runnin’ time,” snapped the conductor wrathfully, “and they ain’t another minute coinin’ to ye, either. I’ll give yer thirty seconds now to put up or be put off.” Here, with ostentatious display, lie drew forth his watch, and tho other laughed in his face. “Pass up the time erday!” he cried. “I ain’t goin’ to paw a cent!” “Then off yer go‘l“ cried Piercy, and grappled with him. The dim and swaying car, the shouts and cries of the affray, tho tumult of the passengers, and the roar of wheels beneath gave to the struggle a sinister effect. Piercy, his faco purpling in exertion, strove to grasp his intended victim by tho throat, and was fought back against the conductor, who tried in vain to close : n. A brakeman, running in through the rear door, planned to take the stranger from behind, bub the mountaineer, spreading his bulk in tho aisle, effectively closed the path to his attack. Thon through the tumult arose the whistle of the engine ahead, and another brakeman, throwing open the forward door cried : USec ,” paused in dumb astonishment, and realising the nature of the uproar, flung himself into the fight. It was three to one, yet tho battle raged with unabated violence. The train had come to a standstill, and an echo of tho excitement within spread to tho knot of loungers on tho nlatform. 1 There appeared before them one man struggling against four others, and the four all employes of the company'

Piercy, with his hand upon his victim’s throat, struggled to push him. backward from the car platform, when with a sudden effort the man writhed free, and stepping sideways, plunged the detective from his hold. But the next instant Piercy had arisen, roaring, and aimed a heavy blow at the other’s head. He struck; its force fell short, and yet beforo he could recover himself his opponent dashed a fist full in his face and ran. “Stop him 1” screamed the detective, whipping out his revolver. He levelled the sights at thte running* man, but the conductor interposed. “Don’t shoot—don’t!” he cried, striking upon the muzzle, and the bullet sped harmlessly singing over the treetops. Then, ere another shot could be fired, the running target reached the shelter of the railway shed, whipped around the corner, and was gone. “After him!” shouted Piercy, following. Ho sprang ahead, his pistol held above his shoulder, and destruction in his eye. “After him, I say!” he called over his shoulder to the train hands.

V. DOC BURDLE’S GANG TO THE RESCUE. But before they could respond, a diversion, utterly unexpected, terminated the affair. Piercy had reached the shed, when a hand outstretched knocked the pistol from his grasp, he was buffeted unmercifully by a sudden onrush of the, station loungers, and bruised and bleeding, was left to stagger back, dull and dazed, to the sanctuary of the train. A shower of stones followed him, the crash of breaking glass sounded along the cars, and at full speed the train pulled out of Seed City, carrying its doubtful honours with it. Meanwhile, in the woods that flank the Seed City station, the principal in the conflict stood surrounded by the: men w*ho had come violently to the res- ■ cue. ’ I “Yer fit ’em smart, yer did!” cried one, and the man, looking round, saw that it was the tall mountaineer who [ had sat behind him in the car. . I “Why, boys,” laughed the mountain- j eer, “he fit off the hull crew* on them!” j Ho was still laughing when a newcomer strode out of the bush and joined them. “What’s up?” this one asked. ! “Hello, Doc, ye jes’ missed it!” ' The lank mountaineer pointed in explanation j to the stranger among them, and: the \ new-comer eyed him keenly. “Well, what’s hit all about?” he de- i manded. i The story was told, spiced with a flow | of complimentary oaths, the picture I drawn of the one man battling courage- i ously with the oppressors; and -when it I was finished the man they had called ■ “Doc” reached out his hand. “Good fur yer!” he cried. “I’m right 1 glad to meet yer. My name’s Burdlel” “Oh,” said the other, slowly, “yer Doc Burdle, then ?” “Right yer air—yer must hearn tell on me?” “Yes,” said the other, his eyes gleaming, “I surely have!” VI. AFTER AN INTERVAL OF SIX WEEKS. Six weeks had passed since Flanders’s departure without word or sign from him. The chief, uneasy at his long absence, was wondering whether he had not been too harsh, too ready, to send him upon his mission, where death, in a sense, was wagered as the stakes. Now the best that Tower could do was to promise himself that on the following day he would send out. a trailer to find what had become of the missing man. Down the main line at this moment the operator at Guamo Siding, in solitary* possession of the place, was deeply lamenting the chance that had set him down as the surveying monarch of all its loneliness. Outside, the face of the landscape glimmered in the torturing heat; the air droned with the shrill voices of a myriad of insects, and the breeze, a veritable furnace breath, added to the inferno with the dust it threw up in Hs train. In desperation the operator set to filing points on his sounders and keys, but this only increased his torment • the rasp of the tool added to the manifold sounds from the superheated world outside, driving him to the brink of despcration. In disgust ho threw down the file, shook the beads of sweat from his brow and was tapping a glass of tepid water from the barrel in the corner, when a low voico broke in on his reflections: ' “Say—you there!” At the window beside the keyboard a hand was holding up the curtain,* and underneath appeared a face, dust-stain-ed, burned to a copper red, and set with two marvellously gleaming eyes. Startled, the operator dropped the tin cup clattering to the floor and leaped to one side. The next instant he was with his back to the wall, a pistol gleaming in the dull light of the shaded station. ‘mat you want?” ho demanded shrilly and at this a broad grin transdmv tlo Staining face at the win“tH!;? Swa " ! ” lau ghed the man. ain’t itP T your " crvcs > sonny, ,amt it? Put down that gun, you Loin’ d tn l? a,l f CC b ™ SS pomulor - I ain’t , Rom to hurt yer.” 1 f the ° p I cra L« r was too old a bird to bo trapped. The man that had left

the placo before him had been tr in just such a way and tied down ? PP desk, the western mail had been a 0 almost in front of the siding express and postal cars had beeTaJr* roited first and then rifled of their I®*

“Make a.more if yer dare!’' „i. ■„ the operator, drawing a bead head m the window. “Don’t yer da p® In answer, the man tossed a scran!, paper through the window «nI? P , of you! Rush that to the main officffc ’em to ‘dupe’ it to the chief—’TW Te^ ”■“5- G ? a °». »ad ttali daddle out er here—you hear „ Skedaddle! Vamoose lirely, ’eauseUm be hotter here ’fore long than tl»f w test dog-days that Gehtnna ever But don’t yer forgit to send that T' patch, or by Sam Houston you be wuth the fat to fry a doughnut w time wo run agither. Adois, sonnv and look out for yerself.” . The face vanished from the window and the operator, a palsy upon S’ still stood shaking against the 3 ’ Outside the sounds of the day resumed their droning intonation, the sighed fitfully, and though he cocked his ears listening for some sign of steal thy attack, he became at last convmZi that he was alone. u With his revolver still ready he tin. toed across the floor, and snatched the scrap of paper. Then, with a sham glance about, he read, and at the next instant had jumped to his instrument “G—x” —; — “G—x” - “G— X” ha called, his hand banging the her frantic speed-“ G—x” _l_ “G-x» " lIQ !> M •*— Somewhere down the line, another station, noting the extreme haste of an operator notoriously slow, cut in with the query: “What’s up?” Letter by letter, Guamo Siding cursed him for his interference, t£e key' rattled and shook with reiterated an. peal: “G-x” “G-x”-and thea the mam office answered. Flattening the paper before him, the operator laid his pistol upon it, and bent with vigour to his key. With eager hand he hammered the brass till the room rang with the staccato eliding, but at every other letter he glanced fearfully over his shoulder. “Rush Supt,” read the despatch, “and dupe to Towers, Chief of Secret Service. Doc Burdle’s gang will hold np western mad nine-forty-five east side long trestle beyond Guamo Siding. Six in the gang. I make seven. Do not shoot man in white hat. That’s me. “Flanders. “P.S. —Towers will explain sig.” The operator added to this a message of his own: “This lets me out. I’m going to scoot.” VII.—IN THE TRAIN DESPif® ER’S OFFICE. _• Five minutes later, when the uproai in the train despatcher’s office tad calmed a bit, the wire was almost blistered by a call for Guamo Siding. But there was no answer; the telegraph in the Siding station clicked in solitude, and far down the track a handcar clattered over the fishplates, a sweating man pumping at the levers, with his eyes turned fearfully over his shoulder. “Guamo Siding’s dead!” called the despatcher’s operator from bis desk. "1 can’t raise him at all. He’s lit out or they’ve got him, one or the other. What’s the orders for H M? Hes cut in on the board, and got the news hot off the wire. Guess he’s rattled some.” i “H M” was Haney’s Mill, the next station east of Guamo Siding. “Tell him to keep his mouth shut, roared the despateher, snatching up the message from Guamo and rushing to the rail to meet the superintendent. had burst through the doorway. "Heft read this, Boss!” The despatch* l thrust the message into the supenn-i tendent’s hand, and then was back a the operator’s shoulder. Outside in the yard the western mail lay at the platform, a fresh engm backing down through the swish. “Hold her five minutes,” the y*s- - ordered, “and tell those dep ties to hurry. Have you heard w Tower yet? Ring up on therfho i there. We can’t wait all night. , | ■ But Tower himself at this mom § ; bustled into the office. “It’s all rig i he cried; “Flanders is one of my ,_l J He’s a daisy. I thought they d str ed him out. Your men ready* going, too.” , . j. The despateher jumped fr° m JwiICere’i 1 C er e’i and strode down the room. ”, / that idiot, Piercy?” he demand* “Ain’t he ready yet,” r “He’s coming, sir,” was the answ • < “Coming, is he?” growled the? patchef, testily. “He’s always but he don’t ever seem to g® where. Oh, here you arc, a _ Piercy?” . , The road detective hustled crowd of deputies at bis 8 “What’s the orders?” he as f®”' cSS ag* Tho despateher thrust the 1 into his hand, and then P u * j uitf 1 towards the door. “Read that, «, 1 he cried. “Tho old man a „ going, too. They’ll tell you I Tho armed men at Piercy’s jj ed right about, and thecomP / a y 1 ed down the stairs. “There 1 I time in Guamo to-night jyl i mused the despateher. " •' with ’em.” r

VTTI —AN ARMED FORCE OF VUA- POLICE. Night had fallen7"and the yard gleamwith switch lights like a field of farelies when the western mail drove out • the open. Tower and the superintendent, P armed with short-barrelled riot guns, sat in the cab with the engikeep ’em waiting,” the superintendent cautioned the oily man at the levers. “I wouldn’t disappoint them for The engineer nodded, and the locomotive, toiling with harsh breath up the jojjtr ascent, cleared the summit with a bound, and ran rolling and swaying on the long down grade. “Guamo’s the first stop,” laughed the superintendent. “We go by their kiting usually, but. to-night we’ll tackle the stretch sorter slow. I guess you’d better out her down to half-speed, Bill” i-jjis to the engineer—“when we leave the mill. I shouldn’t, wonder but they’ve arranged to chuck us off the iron, and it t - wouldn’t do this brand new engine a bit of good to flop over in the ditch.” In the baggage car behind, Piercy,. all excitement, bustled about with his orders. Long before they reached Haney’s Mill he had the lights out and the doors open. Little heaps of buckshot cartridges lay within easy reach, and on the platforms aft other deputies guarded the weakest flanks of the train- Then the locomotive whistled —first, the long yard signal, then two shorter hoots. ‘ That’s Guamo!” cried Piercy. “Get to your places, men! And mind—don’t shoot the man in the white hat!” Ahead in the locomotive, Tower peered across the engineer’s shoulder into the distance, scanning every foot of the iron bands glittering in the shine of the headlight. “There’s a curve ahead,” the engineer explained. “It won’t show till we’ve rounded the—By thunder, there they are now!” A black monument of railroad ties, crested by a red lantern, stood in the middle of the track. In the broad angle of light they saw—for' an instant —a figure, ghost-like in the pale glow, standing staring upon the approaching train. Then it was gone ; the brake-shoes hit with loud complaining upon the wheels; the cars shocked together, their buffers clanking, and with a heave on her springs the engine came to a halt. “Hands up!” roared a voice out of the darkness beside the track. Hands up!” . _ . A dim shape disclosed itself, a menacing figure e with a rifle pointed at blank range into the cab. For a moment there was no answer—no noise save the snuffling gurgle of the airpump ; then a voice rang down the line : “It’s a brown hat be wears, boys'” A stream of fire spurted from the cab, and the silence exploded with a crash. The night roared with the echo, and a scream of anguish pierced the thunders of the detonation. Then the stillness fell again for an instant, broken only by the sobbing measure of the pump; the cry of anguish, bad died with the giver, and peace scorned assured, when there was a sudden rush of footsteps. “Fire!” cried a voice. IX.—THE CAPTURE OF DOU BURDLE. . A volley rattled from the cars. The air whistled with the questing lead, and cry upon cry followed. Shot, too, answerved across the gloom; a voice screamed, a warning to flight; the coaches in the rear resounded with a frightened uproar, and a man in a white hat beside the right-of-way sat waiting indifferently for the noise to end. “If yer as much as wink, Doc Burdle,” he cautioned, “I’ll scatter yer brains from one end of the map to the other.” A curse answered the learning, for the man in the white hat sat upon the chfest,„„the other, a pistol held to his head. ler hound!” the outlaw cried. “Ye’ve played it well, liain’t yer? God help yor.yer dog. when I’m clear er this!” Rut yer won’t be clear, Doc,” was trie easy answer. “It’s been St hot chase to land yer, but it’s did, ole man. Easy, there, now. No monkey shines, or—” , Pressed the cold rim of the revoiver muzzle into the other’s ear, and v.ith a suggestive wriggle of the weapon marie ins meaning clearer. Jhe shots had died away, but the up- !° ar continued. “Flanders, O Flan- °, r T T a V ? 1C0 roared from the engine. wh;ti er i e \ sir L ans ' vered the man in the “\i. ix' ie outlaw writhed again, it wnt go ’, AVOU ’ t I’ll’make Won’t yer u' °~ thore ’ S a lofc pUfc by ’ Toarnl Flanders. “Let yer Not mil W n m t ,nn " s to the papers? ins: mo W D ° C ' • ! cr como noar to mak-I-H m ® nob wunst, ole man, and now.” tal< ° clia ”ccs agin. Lie easy, again! 3 "^^ 1 ” C1 ’ icd the TOlce "WrUU * ir ’” b - e answered meekly. c ried testily? 16 m h ° r °’ then >” Tower me.” aUt ’ & ’ r ‘ Tve got someone with “Got what ?” A linlPi C sir.” feasr came flickerin e filled tkt C p ’ sa * d Flanders. ‘Tvo Make ye? aSST* a . f , ull house. too

Then as they clamped the handcuffs on the outlaw’s wrists, Flanders arose and wiped his brow. “Guess I squared myself,” he muttered. “And now,” said the chief, when he confronted Flanders in the baggage car, “perhaps you’ll explain all this.” “Ain’t much to explain, chief,” Flanders answered; “I jus’ got next to the Doc, and when the shootin’ played up lively give him a clip on the ear and sat on his chest when he came to.” “But how in thunder did you get next to him ?” demanded the chief. “Real easy, chief. Evenin,’ Mr Piercy.” For an instant the detective stared at Flanders; then, with a menacing gesture, leaped to his feet. The superintendent clutched him by the collar. “What’s this mean?” lie growled. “Mean!” roared Piercy. “Why, it was this blanked outlaw here that hit mo in the face at Seed City and wrecked all the windows in the car. Why, I’d ’a’ given my job to ’ve met him wunst out there in the bush. I reckon, then, yer’d never taken him alive.” Flanders turned to his chief, his face transfigured with merriment, but Tower stared in astonishment. “Outlaw—what d’ye mean, Piercy? This is no outlaw—it’s Flanders, one of my men.” Piercy’s face fell, and Flanders laughed aloud. “Yer see, chief,” he explained, “I needed a excuse to get off at Seed City. If I’d just dropped in there without a good reason, why, some er them guns might ’a rattled a charge of buckshot agin my ribs. So I sorter got Piercy to throw me off. He did his best, too, but I had it in for him, yer know, and made time fly. “Then, yer see, when I was shook off at the station, why, the Doc and his gang took right natclierally to me—seo? They let me in on the hull tiling, and what I’ve got on to’ll give us the right to go down there and run in the whole outfit from A to Z. Say, chief, guess my job’s good yet, ain’t it ?” “Good? Why!”.and the chief fell to laughing uproariously.