The Return of the Mucker | Page 5

this the two men plunged, alighting unharmed.
Byrne was the first to regain his feet. He dragged the deputy sheriff to
his knees, and before that frightened and astonished officer of the law
could gather his wits together he had been relieved of his revolver and
found himself looking into its cold and business-like muzzle.
Then Billy Byrne waded ashore, prodding the deputy sheriff in the ribs
with cold steel, and warning him to silence. Above the pool stood a
little wood, thick with tangled wildwood. Into this Byrne forced his
prisoner.
When they had come deep enough into the concealment of the foliage
to make discovery from the outside improbable Byrne halted.
"Now say yer prayers," he commanded. "I'm a-going to croak yeh."

The deputy sheriff looked up at him in wild-eyed terror.
"My God!" he cried. "I ain't done nothin' to you, Byrne. Haven't I
always been your friend? What've I ever done to you? For God's sake
Byrne you ain't goin' to murder me, are you? They'll get you, sure."
Billy Byrne let a rather unpleasant smile curl his lips.
"No," he said, "youse ain't done nothin' to me; but you stand for the law,
damn it, and I'm going to croak everything I meet that stands for the
law. They wanted to send me up for life--me, an innocent man. Your
kind done it--the cops. You ain't no cop; but you're just as rotten. Now
say yer prayers."
He leveled the revolver at his victim's head. The deputy sheriff slumped
to his knees and tried to embrace Billy Byrne's legs as he pleaded for
his life.
"Cut it out, you poor boob," admonished Billy. "You've gotta die and if
you was half a man you'd wanna die like one."
The deputy sheriff slipped to the ground. His terror had overcome him,
leaving him in happy unconsciousness. Byrne stood looking down upon
the man for a moment. His wrist was chained to that of the other, and
the pull of the deputy's body was irritating.
Byrne stooped and placed the muzzle of the revolver back of the man's
ear. "Justice!" he muttered, scornfully, and his finger tightened upon
the trigger.
Then, conjured from nothing, there rose between himself and the
unconscious man beside him the figure of a beautiful girl. Her face was
brave and smiling, and in her eyes was trust and pride--whole worlds of
them. Trust and pride in Billy Byrne.
Billy closed his eyes tight as though in physical pain. He brushed his
hand quickly across his face.

"Gawd!" he muttered. "I can't do it--but I came awful close to it."
Dropping the revolver into his side pocket he kneeled beside the deputy
sheriff and commenced to go through the man's clothes. After a
moment he came upon what he sought--a key ring confining several
keys.
Billy found the one he wished and presently he was free. He still stood
looking at the deputy sheriff.
"I ought to croak you," he murmured. "I'll never make my get-away if I
don't; but SHE won't let me--God bless her."
Suddenly a thought came to Billy Byrne. If he could have a start he
might escape. It wouldn't hurt the man any to stay here for a few hours,
or even for a day. Billy removed the deputy's coat and tore it into strips.
With these he bound the man to a tree. Then he fastened a gag in his
mouth.
During the operation the deputy regained consciousness. He looked
questioningly at Billy.
"I decided not to croak you," explained the young man. "I'm just a-goin'
to leave you here for a while. They'll be lookin' all along the right o'
way in a few hours--it won't be long afore they find you. Now so long,
and take care of yerself, bo," and Billy Byrne had gone.
A mistake that proved fortunate for Billy Byrne caused the penitentiary
authorities to expect him and his guard by a later train, so no suspicion
was aroused when they failed to come upon the train they really had
started upon. This gave Billy a good two hours' start that he would not
otherwise have had--an opportunity of which he made good use.
Wherefore it was that by the time the authorities awoke to the fact that
something had happened Billy Byrne was fifty miles west of Joliet,
bowling along aboard a fast Santa Fe freight. Shortly after night had
fallen the train crossed the Mississippi. Billy Byrne was hungry and
thirsty, and as the train slowed down and came to a stop out in the

midst of a dark solitude of silent, sweet-smelling country, Billy opened
the door of his box car and dropped lightly to the ground.
So far no one had seen Billy since he had passed from the ken of