Jack Wright and His Electric Stage Part 34

"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. .h.i.te."

"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 b.u.mped over the rougher gra.s.s, 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!