Jesse James' Bold Stroke; Or, The Double Bank RobberyWard, William (Author at Arthur Westbrook Co. (Cleveland, Ohio))
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Jesse James' Bold Stroke; Or, The Double Bank Robbery
Ward, William (Author at Arthur Westbrook Co. (Cleveland, Ohio))
James, Jesse, 1847-1882 -- Fiction; Western stories
Jesse laughed good-naturedly.
"I move we get out of this place as soon as possible. We shall probably
not be able to get a meal before morning, but as soon as we decide
on what direction we shall take, we can be on our way and out of the
canyon before morning. The first thing for us to do, it seems to me, is
to get some horses. Ours have gone. Either the soldiers or the Indians
got them. Most of the Indian ponies went up in my little explosion, and
those that did not, ran away.
"I know where there was some ponies yesterday," spoke up Comanche. "I
saw a whole bunch of them grazing on the mountain on the other side of
the canyon over there."
"We'll see about that later," replied Jesse. "The question is, what
direction shall we take? It won't do to go north, for we are liable to
run into more of the troops. The fort is off in that direction, and
they would be glad to see us.
"How about it, Bill? You know this country. Is there any place near
here where we can lay up for a while and not get sold out--a good safe
hang-out where the grub is plenty and not too many babblers around?"
Wild Bill considered the question carefully for a moment.
"I opine I could find such a shack," he answered with a grin. "I know a
fellow who would take us in and be danged glad of the chance--"
"Is he all right?" demanded the desperado.
"Well, they'll all bear watchin', I reckon. He makes his living out
of a stage coach now and then. When business is poor he catches a
prospector or something of the sort. Guess he'll do though."
After long and laborious effort the outlaws succeeded in picking their
way down the steep mountain side. Instead, however, of following on
down the canyon toward its foot, they turned abruptly south, and the
dawn was appearing in the eastern sky, when, foot-sore and weary, as
well as ill-tempered, they finally ascended to the broad plateau to the
west of the canyon, but as they looked across, nothing was to be seen
of the Indian village where the stirring incidents of the previous day
had occurred.
"Any almost-food places hereabouts, that you know of?" demanded Jesse
of Wild Bill.
"No, but there's a ranch about two miles west of here. And the fellow
used to have a fine bunch of Kentucky thoroughbreds. Probably stole
them at that, but they were dandies--"
"Good. Me for the ranch," exclaimed the great desperado as the men
settled down in a long lope with anticipations of a steaming breakfast
at the end of their journey.
It was just sun-up when the bandits finally approached the ranch, and
Jesse announced his intention of going to the rancher's cabin alone,
while the others remained in the background. But upon second thought,
he told Wild Bill to accompany him.
No sign of life was observable about the place, and the outlaws were of
the opinion that the household had not yet awakened.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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