The Frontier, May 1926 — page 84: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

74 The wagon moved on, with the cav- alrymen accompanying, into a wide clearing where the twenty-odd soldiers of the detachment had bivouacked, After supper the two cowboys sought out the heutenant, who alone had a tent. He was lonely, being the only officer with the detachment; also he had been thinking over the reference to a hard bunch somewhere to the north. The cowboys found him ready to talk, “We're up here scouting around for some train-robbers who held up a U. P. train at Ogallala, Nebraska,” he told them, as they sat smoking outside the tent. “There were six, altogether, in the gang. We heard that two were killed shortly after the robbery at a little place called Buffalo Stage up in Kansas,” “Hell! Them fellows’ll never come down this way!” cried the taller cow- boy, he who had driven the wagon, with much emphasis, “Not much!” The dark-haired man shot a furious glance sidelong at the emphatic one. “An’ why not?” he snapped. “Don’t ever’ Tom, Dick an’ Harry that’s on the dodge head for the Nation? You think with them fancy boots 0’ yours, Bill! Reckon ol’ Lengthy’s gang, that was so free with hard looks for us, is a bunch o’ Sunday school super- intendents, mebbe? Could you get up in court an’ swear that they wasn’t this gang that stuck up that train?” “Mebbe you're right, Frank,” nod- ded the driver meekly. “How many were in this gang you camped with?’ Thus the lieutenant, leaning forward eagerly. “Why, the tall fellow an’ three orn- ery lookin’ customers. That is, they hadn’t had a wash or shave for a right smart while. Horses looked like they’d been hard rid——” He was rolling a cigarette, the black- haired man. Now he looked up side- way at the lieutenant, as he put away Durham and papers, with the ready grin that showed his white teeth. “Prob’ly didn’t look no worse, at that,” he smiled, “than me’n Bill here!” The lieutenant laughed with him, then sobered abruptly. “Well, I’m glad you fellows hap- pened along,” he remarked. “I think I'll have a look at your back-trail to- morrow and see if I can have a talk with Lengthy and his friends. Four, eh? By Jove! That would be the tally, now, if they killed two in Kan- sas |” THE FRONTIER EHIND the spring- wagon rolling south again with dawn, the cavalry camp had vanished. The troopers were in the saddle, head- ing north to inves- tigate “Lengthy.” The black-haired man turned on the box-seat and his white teeth showed; he shook with noiseless laughter. “An’ he’s goin’ to have a look at ‘Lengthy!’” he exploded suddenly, “Oh, Lawdy! I sure wish him lots o’ luck !” “Well, he pitched a big scare into me, just the same!” nodded Jack Davis, sourly. “When he says he’s a- lookin’ for train-robbers, Sam, I could count the bars on the winder!” “He never scared me half as much as you did!” grunted Sam Bass, irrita- bly. “You blame’ fool! You like to make him suspicious 0’ us!” “Do you reckon they are a-lookin’ for us?” Jack Davis was plainly un- easy at the thought. “Hell! Mebbe we better not figger on goin’ to Den- ton, Sam! We got twenty thousand between us. Let’s head for South America.” “No!” Sam Bass’ square jaw was set and his mouth tight beneath the brown mustache. “No, sir! There's folks in Denton I want to show a few. They always said I’d never amount to nothin’, a-runnin’ around the country like I did, clean down to Dallas, to race the Denton Mare. I want to parade down the street a-throwin’ twenty- dollar gold-pieces over the bars. We'll have a look, though, before we ride in.” Jack Davis, whose nerves were tense from uncertainty these days, and who shared none of Sam Bass’ pleasure at nearing Denton, nodded gloomily. *"S a good idee,” he said. “But me, I wisht we was high-tailin’ it for South America.” To which Sam replied with a glint of white teeth beneath his mustache, as they squatted on the edge of the bot- toms, waiting for dusk and his trip to the house of a certain good friend. If Sheriff Everhart and certain oth- ers of the oldsters in the community had looked askance at Sam and his wild ways, almost without exception the younger generation had been al- ways on his side. As the owner of that little sorrel beauty, The Denton Mare, he had been known far and wide; known and liked immensely. It was not, altogether, that he was a rider without peer; a dead shot with Winchester or Colt ; leader in any dar- ing enterprise of “the boys,” a master cowboy. Nor was his popularity born wholly of generosity and a certain rough chivalry, though these qualities he had in large measure. Others have had the every characteristic of Sam Bass, yet have waked no such fierce loyalty as this stocky, dark-eyed cow- boy knew; such admiration in Cow- land, where he is a heroic figure even today. From friends in Denton Sam learned that an Ogallala man, an ex-express messenger, had suspected the six cow- boys of the train robbery, though the officials had not been suspicious of them as, in the days after the robbery, they mingled with sheriffs and mar- shals and railroad detectives in Ogal- lala. He had trailed the party south- ward, this ex-messenger, and spying upon their camp had heard them dis- cuss the crime; had learned their plans, their real names; had even seen them handling bright new gold-pieces of the year 1877. His knowledge he had communicated to the officials. The law wanted Sam Bass and Jack Davis —wanted them hard, So to Jack Davis, hiding in the elm- bottoms, Sam Bass took back the story of the search and the large reward of- fered for them. To the authenticated report of the death of Collins and Hef- fridge, two of their gang, he added the account of the killing of another, Jim Berry, in his home town, Mexico, Missouri, where Berry’s shining new gold-pieces had connected him with the robbery. “That leaves just three out o’ the six,” said Sam, “Seems Ol’ Dad Un- derwood never went to Missoury with Jim Berry. Anyway, they never got him.” “T told you we'd better hit for South America!” complained Jack Davis, whose bump of discretion seems to have been well-developed. “ ’Tain’t too late now. Let’s high-tail it, Sam. We can’t buck all this.” “Ah, what’s to be scared of?” scoffed Sam, those large white teeth showing in his famous grin. “Don’t I know this-here country like the palm o’ my hand? Don’t be losin’ your netve, Jack! We'll just stick here an’ be damned to ’em to catch us.” But Jack Davis was beyond persua- sion. He never had thought such a hornets’ nest would be aroused by that U. P. robbery. While planning it, Collins had stressed the large chance of their never being recognized. To CoOmiclboooxks. com