Walter Sherwood's Probation Part 38

"I'd like to wring your neck, you young thief!"

"I have no doubt you would."

"Once more, and for the last time, will you give me back that revolver?"

"I have told you when and on what conditions I would surrender it."

"When?"

"At Stilwell, in the presence of a magistrate."

"You are very crafty. You want me to be arrested for attempted robbery."

"Yes, that is my wish."

"I've a great mind to s.n.a.t.c.h the revolver from you."

"Come on, then!" said Walter, holding it firmly, pointing at the outlaw.

"You've got the drop on me, youngster, but mark my word, I'll have that weapon yet, and I'll punish you for giving me all this trouble."

"Have you anything more to say?"

"No."

"Then suppose you ride on. We have been delayed long enough."

The robber did go, but aimed a volley of imprecations at Walter, of which the latter took no notice.

In the early evening they arrived at Stilwell and secured rooms at the hotel.

Among the guests was a cattleman from Dakota, who had been to Chicago with a herd of cattle and was now on his way back. He was loud in his complaints of a highwayman whom he had met two days previous, who had relieved him of a wallet containing five hundred dollars.

"Won't you describe him?" asked Walter, struck by a sudden suspicion.

The cattle dealer did so. His description tallied with the personal appearance of Walter's enemy.

"Was he on foot?" asked Walter.

"No; he was on a black horse."

Walter nodded.

"I know him," he said.

"Has he robbed you?"

"No; I have robbed him."

"What do you mean?" inquired the cattle dealer, in wonder.

"Do you recognize this?" and Walter exhibited the revolver.

"Yes; it looks like the revolver he pointed at me."

"Probably it is."

"But how do you happen to have it?"

"I took it from him."

"You--a mere boy!" exclaimed the cattle dealer, incredulously.

"Yes. I will tell you about it."

And Walter gave an account of the circ.u.mstances under which the revolver had come into his possession.

"It is a handsome weapon," said the cattle dealer, taking it into his hands and examining it. "It must be worth a hundred dollars."

"I think I shall keep it for my own use," said Walter, quietly.

"I'll give you seventy-five dollars for it."

"I would rather not part with it. Indeed, I should not feel justified in selling it, considering the way it came into my hands."

"Well, boy, you're a smart one; but I surmise you haven't seen the last of the owner."

The speaker was right.

CHAPTER XXV

d.i.c.k RANNEY'S SCHEME

d.i.c.k Ranney--for the first time we give the name of the highwayman-- had no intention of going away without his revolver. It had been his constant companion for years, and had served him well during his connection with the famous band of Jesse James. Now, his leader dead, he was preying upon the community on his own account. So daring and so full of resources was he that he had never been arrested but once, and then managed to escape from the cabin in which he was temporarily confined.

The weapon he was so anxious to recover had been given him by his old commander, and for this reason, and also because the revolver was a very handsome and valuable one, he was willing to expose himself to the risk of capture in order to recover it.

The opposition he met with from a "beardless boy"--as he styled Walter--irritated and surprised him. He was fifty pounds heavier than Walter, and he had expected that a mere boy would give in almost immediately. But he saw that he had misjudged the lad. He was little more than a boy in years and appearance, but he evidently had a man's courage and spirit. Ranney would have secured another revolver if he had not felt so certain of recovering his own. After his last failure he began to consider what course to adopt.

It was easy to find out the professor's route. He knew that he was to stay a night at Stilwell, and to Stilwell he went. He did not venture into the village until nightfall, and then, for reasons easy to divine, he abstained from visiting the hotel.

Looking about for a confederate, his attention was drawn to a boy of sixteen who was sawing wood in front of a humble cottage half a mile from the village.

"I see you know how to work," said d.i.c.k Ranney, affably, as he leaned carelessly against the fence.