The Gully of Bluemansdyke, and Other storiesDoyle, Arthur Conan
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The Gully of Bluemansdyke, and Other stories
Doyle, Arthur Conan
Detective and mystery stories, English; Fiction; Short stories
An hour passed without his moving. Another had almost elapsed before he
descended. His face was grave and thoughtful.
"Are they there?" was the eager query.
"Yes; they are there."
"How many?"
"I've only seen five; but there may be more. Wait till I think it out,
Bill."
The miner gazed at him with all the reverence matter has towards mind.
Thinking things out was not his strong point.
"Blamed if I can help you," he said apologetically. "It kinder don't
come nat'ral to me to be plottin' and plannin'. Want o' eddication,
likely. My father was allowed to be the hardest-headed man in the
States. Judge Jeffers let on as how the old man wanted to hand in his
checks; so he down an' put his head on the line when the first engine as
ran from Vermont was comin' up. They fined him a hundred dollars for
upsettin' that 'ere locomotive; an' the old man got the cussedest
headache as ever was."
Braxton hardly seemed to hear this family anecdote; he was deep in
thought.
"Look here, old man," said he; "sit down by me on the trunk and listen
to what I say. Remember that you are here as a volunteer, Bill--you've
no call to come; now, I am here in the course of duty. Your name is
known through the settlement; you were a marked man when I was in the
nursery. Now, Bill, it's a big thing I am going to ask you. If you and I
go in and take these men, it will be another feather in your cap, and in
yours only. What do men know of Jack Braxton, the private of police?
He'd hardly be mentioned in the matter. Now, I want to make my name this
day. We'll have to secure these men by a surprise after dusk, and it
will be as easy for one resolute man to do it as for two; perhaps
easier, for there is less chance of detection. Bill, I want you to stay
with the horses, and let me go alone."
Chicago sprang to his feet with a snarl of indignation, and paced up and
down in front of the fallen trees. Then he seemed to master himself, for
he sat down again.
"They'd chaw you up, lad," he said, putting his hand on Braxton's
shoulder. "It wouldn't wash."
"Not they," said the trooper. "I'd take your pistol as well as my own,
and I'd need a deal of chawing."
"My character would be ruined," said Bill.
"It's beyond the reach of calumny. You can afford to give me one fair
chance."
Bill buried his face in his hands, and thought a little.
"Well, lad," he said, looking up, "I'll look after the horses."
Braxton wrung him by the hand. "There are few men would have done it,
Bill; you are a friend worth having. Now, we'll spend our day as best we
can, old man, and lie close till evening; for I won't start till an hour
after dusk; so we have plenty of time on our hands."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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