The Lady of Big Shanty | Page 4

reward to take him dead or alive. He kept the
gun pointed, drawing a fine sight on a spot between my left eye and my
ear.
"'Hold on, Bob!' said I; 'sit down.' He didn't speak, but he lifted the
muzzle of his gun a little, and there was a look came into his eyes, half
crying, half like a dog cornered to fight.
"'S-s-h!' said I; 'you'll wake up Ed.'
"'I got to kill ye, Bill,' said he.
"'Sit down,' I said, for I saw he was so weak his thin legs were
trembling. 'Neither Ed nor I are going to give you away--sit down,' and
I shook Ed. He sat up blinking like an old toad in a hard shower. 'By
whimey!' said Ed, staring at Bob as if he had seen a ghost.
"'I'm hongry, Bill,' said Bob. 'Bill, I'm hongry,' and he began to stagger
and cry like a baby. I got hold of his rifle and Ed caught him just as he

fainted.
"By and by he came to and Ed and I fixed up a stiff hooker of liquor
and some hot tea and gave him a mouthful at a time. Just before
daylight he rose on one elbow and lay there following us with his eyes,
for he was too weak to talk. It seemed as if he was clean beat out and
that his nerve was gone. What grit he had he had used up keeping away
from the law."
Again Holcomb paused--the round table was as silent as a court room
before a verdict.
"Neither Ed nor I liked the idea of being caught with Dinsmore," he
resumed, "with three counties after him harder than an old dog after a
five-pronged buck, so when it came daylight we shifted camp over
back of a fire-slash where I knew all hell couldn't find him. We had to
carry him most of the way. That was on a Wednesday. We never said
anything to him about his killing Bailey--he knew we knew. We fed
him the best we knew how. Saturday, 'long toward night, I killed a
small deer, and the broth did him good.
"In a couple of days--Hold on, I've got ahead of my story; it was
Sunday night when Bob said: 'Boys' said he, as near as I can repeat it in
his dialect--'you've treated me like a humin, but I dassent stay here. It
ain't fair to you. What I done I done with a reason. You've heard tell,
most likely, that I been seen in Lower Saranac 'bout three weeks ago,
ain't ye?'
"'Yes,' said Ed, 'we heard something about it. That Jew horse-trader,
Bergstein, told us, but there warn't nobody that seen ye, that was sure it
was you.'
"'They lied then,' said Bob, 'for there was more'n a dozen in the village
that day that knowed me and warn't mistook 'bout who I was. As to that
red-nosed Jew, Bergstein, he'll quit talkin' 'bout me and everythin' else
if I kin ever draw a bead on him.'
"Then Bob began to tell us how he walked into the big hotel at Saranac

about noon and flung a hind-quarter of venison on the counter in front
of the clerk and said: 'What I come for is a decent meal; I ain't got no
money, but I guess that'll pay for it.' The clerk got white around the
gills, but he didn't say anything; he just took the venison and showed
Bob into the big dining hall. Bob says they gave him the meal, and he
kept eating everything around him with his Winchester across his knees.
There wasn't a soul that spoke to him except the hired girl that waited
on him, although the dining room was crowded with summer boarders.
"'Tea or coffee?' asked the hired girl when he had eaten his pie.
"'No, thank ye,' says Bob, 'but I won't never forgit ye if ye can git me
four boxes of matches.' Bob said she was gone a minute and when she
came back she had the matches for him under her apron. 'Good luck to
ye, Bob,' she says--her cheeks red, and her mouth trembling. It was
Myra Hathaway--he'd known her since she was a little girl. 'Bob, for
God's sake go,' she begged--'there's trouble coming from the village.'
"It wasn't long before Bob crossed Alder Brook about forty rods this
side of the Gull Rock. They saw his tracks where he crossed the next
day, but Bob had the matches, and the sheriff and about forty that went
out to get him came back that night looking kind of down in the mouth.
There wasn't a sign of him after he crossed Alder Brook. He knew
those woods like a partridge. When he got through