Jack Wright and His Electric Stage | Page 2

to do that.
In fact Jesse observed their anxiety, and hissed in warning tones:
"Don't drop him!"
In a moment more the locomotive was gone.
The outlaws emerged from their places of concealment.
"How long before Timberlake will discover our ruse?" asked Frank.
"If the train goes on, not for an hour yet," replied Jesse, as he cast a swift glance around. "But we are in a sorry plight now."
"How do you mean?"
"You know we all lost every dollar we had, playing faro in the city. How are we going to ride back to Missouri without a cent? It's my opinion that we'll have to do some work about Wrightstown to get ahead. The last dollar I had went for the purchase of tickets to Missouri, which we gave the conductor."
The gang looked very glum.
"What sort of a place is Wrightstown?" asked Cummins, finally.
"I've heard that it's a fisher village. A young fellow named Jack Wright lives there. He's an inventor of electric machines for flying through the air, navigating under water, and running over the land. Everybody has heard of him. He has the reputation of being one of the richest boys in the country. By means of his famous inventions he has made a barrel of money."
"Then he's our game," said Frank, decisively.
"Yes," assented Jesse. "He's about the only one from whom we could expect to make a rich haul. I hope he's at home. I've got a plan in view now by means of which I can bunco him out of several thousands of dollars, if we can operate the game before the Wrightstown Bank closes."
"What are you going to do?" eagerly asked Miller.
"I'll show you when I try the trick. It's a very smooth game, and if I'm clever enough I'll succeed. Come on to the village, and see if we can operate it. We've got to have money. If we can't get it by means of the plan in view, I'm going to lay out the first man I meet, and go through him."
The rest chuckled at this remark.
Going to the village, they found it to be a thriving place at the head of a beautiful bay on the Atlantic sea coast.
There was a bank on the main street, and when it was located, Jesse said to Frank:
"In nearly all banks there is a desk or table, for the benefit of depositors, on which are pens, ink, deposit slips, and blank checks. You go into the bank, and pocket several of the checks. There's an old hostelry down there near the bay called the Sea Spider House. We will register there, and you'll find us in the bar room."
Frank James nodded, and in a moment his compact and wiry body was going rapidly down the street.
Although Frank was a desperate, fearless ruffian, he had a pleasant face, keen gray eyes, a light mustache, and a most quiet air and unassuming manner.
No one would have suspected him of being a bandit, and as he was a fairly good talker, full of grit and coolness, and best suited for the work in hand, Jesse trusted him implicitly.
The outlaws registered at the hostelry with as much sang froid as if their pockets were lined with gold.
They patronized the bar liberally, had the drinks charged to their account, and ordered a fine luncheon.
Frank soon returned.
He had the blank checks.
Handing them to Jesse he said in low tones:
"No trouble at all. The clerks paid no attention to me."
"They'll soon have reason to remember us," grimly answered Jesse.
Telling his companions to remain there until he returned, he left the hotel, asked a pedestrian the way to Jack Wright's house, and having received the desired information, made his way there.
It proved to be a magnificent mansion, standing in the midst of a handsome garden which sloped down to a creek.
There was a fine big workshop standing at the foot of the garden, upon the bank of this creek, in which the young inventor constructed the machines that made him world renowned.
Jesse James boldly ascended the piazza, rang the bell, and an old sailor with a sandy beard, a glass eye and a wooden leg, answered it.
His name was Tim Topstay, and he lived with the inventor and not only aided him to build his inventions, but always went with Jack on the adventurous journeys he made.
"Waal, messmate," said he, in bluff, hearty tones, as he took a chew of navy plug, and scanned the outlaw with his solitary eye. "Wot kin I do fer yer ter-day?"
"Is Mr. Jack Wright in?" politely asked the bandit.
"He are," replied Tim. "D'yer wanter see him?"
"Yes, sir, and on important business too."
"Then step inter ther library an I'll call him fer ye."
Ignorant of the dangerous nature of the caller Tim ushered him into a cozy library and left him there.
A fat young Dutchman