Jim Cummings | Page 9

swept by, and the darkness again settled around the late
combatants.
Cummings was the first to speak.
"How the devil did you get here, Dan?"
"Just what I was going to ask you, Fred."
"Then you didn't get my letter?"
"What letter."
"I wrote you from Chicago, to be on hand at the 'plant' to-night."
"Did you send it to Leavenworth?"
"Yes."
"I am on my way there now. Got busted in St, Louis, couldn't make a
raise, and I commenced to count ties for Leavenworth."
"Yes, then you took me for some jay, and tried to hold me up. It's lucky
I met you, I need you."
"Any money in it?"
"Slathers of it."

"What's your lay?"
Cummings hesitated a minute before replying, and then said:
"Dan! you went back on me once, I don't know that I can trust you, you
are too--"
"Trust me! You give Dan Moriarity a chance to cover some tin, and
he's yours, body and soul."
"What's your price to help me, and keep your mouth shut?"
"$2,000."
"It's a go," and Cummings held out his hand.
The compact was thus sealed, and lighting a match, Cummings
commenced to look for his valise.
It had, fortunately, fallen outside the rails, and picking it up, Cummings
led the way, followed by the somewhat surprised and still more curious
Moriarity.
At this point on the Missouri river, the bluffs rise abruptly from the
banks. The railroad, winding around the curves, was literally hewn
from the solid rock. Deep gullies and ravines, starting from the water,
Intersected all portions of the country, and the thick underbrush made
this place a safe and secure hiding-place for fugitives from justice, river
pirates and moonshiners.
Cummings, at a point where one of these gullies branched off from the
railroad, turned into it, and with confident steps, followed closely by
Moriarity, scaled the rocky precipice. Half way up the toilsome ascent,
he halted, and placing his fingers in his mouth, gave three shrill
whistles. Two short, and one long drawn sounds.
It was immediately answered; and in an instant, a flaming torch sprang
into view, and almost as quickly was extinguished.
A short climb, and turning sharply to the right, Cummings again
stopped. The signal, repeated softly, was answered by a voice asking:
"Who comes there?"
To which Cummings replied:
"It is I, be not afraid," at the same time poking Moriarity in the ribs,
and chuckling:
"I haven't forgotten my Bible yet, eh, Dan?"
A blanket was lifted to one side, and disclosed to view the entrance to a
natural cave, into the wall of which was stuck a naming, pitch-pine
knot. Entering, the blanket was dropped, and preceded by a man, whose

features the fitful glare of the torch failed to reveal, the two adventurers
were ushered into the main portion of the cavern.
In one corner the copper kettle and coiled worm of a whisky still told it
was the abode of an illicit distiller, or a "moonshiner."
A large fire cast a ruddy glow over the cave, and blankets and cooking
utensils were scattered about. As the guide stepped into the light, he
turned around, his eyes first falling on the well-stuffed valise and then
upon Cummings' face, which wore such an expression of success and
satisfaction that he exclaimed, as he held out his hand:
"By the ghost of Jesse James, you did it, old man."
"This looks like it, don't it?" said the successful express-car robber,
holding his valise to the light. "Don't you know this man, Haight?"
"Damme, if it isn't Dan Moriarity."
"The same old penny--Haight," and Moriarity clasped his hand.
Haight, as host, did the honors. An empty flour barrel, covered by a
square board, made an acceptable table. Small whisky barrels did duty
as chairs, and a substantial repast of boiled fish, partridges and gray
squirrels, supplemented with steaming glasses of hot toddy, satisfied
the inner man, and, for a time, caused them to forget the exciting train
of events through which they had just passed.
After their hunger had been appeased pipes were lit, and the fragrant
glass of spirits, filled to the brim, were placed conveniently and
seductively near at hand.
Cummings then related, in detail, his night's exploit and ended by
opening the valise and taking out the packages of currency which it
contained. It was a strange picture to gaze upon. The fire-lit cave,
shrouded outside with mystery and darkness, but its heart alive with
light and warmth; the rude appliances and paraphernalia for distilling
the contraband "mountain dew"; the floor strewn with blankets,
cooking- tins, a rifle or two, and provisions, while, bathed in the warm
glow of the cheerful fire, secure from pursuit and comfortably housed
from the weather, the three men, with greedy eyes, drank