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PAGE 10

Taken Alive
by [?]

The next day proved cloudy, and with night began a violent storm of wind and rain. Brandt cowered over his fire till nine o’clock, and then taking a slight draught from his flask, chuckled, “This is glorious weather for my work. Here’s to Clara’s luck this time!”

In little over an hour he started for the mine, near which he concealed his horse. Stealing about in the deep shadows, he soon satisfied himself that no one was on the watch, and then approaching the rear of Bute’s shanty, found to his joy that the pony was in the shed. A chink in the board siding enabled him to look into the room which contained his prey; he started as he saw Apache Jack, instantly recognizing in him another criminal for whom a large reward was offered.

“Better luck than I dreamed of,” he thought. “I shall take them both; but I now shall have to borrow a horse of Alford;” and he glided away, secured an animal from the stable, and tied it near his own. In a short time he was back at his post of observation. It had now become evident that no one even imagined that there was danger while such a storm was raging. The howling wind would drown all ordinary noises; and Brandt determined that the two men in the shanty should be on their way to jail that night. When he again put his eye to the chink in the wall, Bute was saying:

“Well, no one will start fer the mountings while this storm lasts, but, wound or no wound, I must get out of this as soon as it’s over. There’s no safety fer me here now.”

“Ef they comes fer you, like enough they’ll take me,” replied Apache Jack, who, now that he was alone with his confederate, could speak his style of English fast enough. His character of half-breed was a disguise which his dark complexion had suggested. “Ter-morrer night, ef it’s clar, we’ll put out fer the easterd. I know of a shanty in the woods not so very fur from here in which we kin put up till yer’s able ter travel furder. Come, now, take a swig of whiskey with me and then we’ll sleep; there’s no need of our watchin’ any longer on a night like this. I’ll jest step out an’ see ef the pony’s safe; sich a storm’s ’nuff ter scare him off ter the woods.”

“Well, jest lay my shooter on the cha’r here aside me ‘fore you go. I feel safer with the little bull-dog in reach.”

This the man did, then putting his own revolver on the table, that it might not get wet, began to unbar the door. Swift as a shadow Brandt glided out of the shed and around on the opposite side of the shanty.

An instant later Bute was paralyzed by seeing his enemy enter the open door. Before the outlaw could realize that Brandt was not a feverish vision induced by his wound, the detective had captured both revolvers, and was standing behind the door awaiting Apache Jack’s return.

“Hist!” whispered Brandt, “not a sound, or you will both be dead in two minutes.”

Bute’s nerves were so shattered that he could scarcely have spoken, even if he had been reckless enough to do so. He felt himself doomed; and when brutal natures like his succumb, they usually break utterly. Therefore, he could do no more than shiver with unspeakable dread as if he had an ague.

Soon Apache Jack came rushing in out of the storm, to be instantly confronted by Brandt’s revolver. The fellow glanced at the table, and seeing his own weapon was gone, instinctively half drew a long knife.

“Put that knife on the table!” ordered Brandt, sternly. “Do you think I’d allow any such foolishness?”

The man now realized his powerlessness, and obeyed; and Brandt secured this weapon also.

“See here, Apache Jack, or whatever your name is, don’t you run your head into a noose. You know I’m empowered to arrest Bute, and you don’t know anything about the force I have at hand. All you’ve got to do is to obey me, an officer of the law, like a good citizen. If you don’t, I’ll shoot you; and that’s all there is about it. Will you obey orders?”