The Daughter of Anderson Crow - George Barr McCutcheon

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the intensity of the moment. He shied at a dog and then kicked over the dashboard, upsetting Anderson Crow's meagre dignity and almost doing the same to the vehicle.

      "You're a fine detective!" jeered Harry Squires; and poor old Anderson hated him ever afterward.

      "What have you heerd?" demanded the marshal.

      "There's been a terrible murder at Boggs City, that's all. The chief of police just telephoned to us that a farmer named Grover was found dead in a ditch just outside of town—shot through the head, his pockets rifled. It is known that he started to town to deposit four hundred dollars hog-money in the bank. The money is missing, and so are his horse and buggy. A young fellow was seen in the neighbourhood early this morning—a stranger. The chief's description corresponds with the man who sold that rig to you. The murderer is known to have driven in this direction. People saw him going almost at a gallop."

      It is not necessary to say that Tinkletown thoroughly turned inside out with excitement. The whole population was soon at the post-office, and everybody was trying to supply Anderson Crow with wits. He had lost his own.

      "We've got to catch that fellow," finally resolved the marshal. There was a dead silence.

      "He's got a pistol," ventured some one.

      "How do you know?" demanded Mr. Crow keenly. "Did y' see it?"

      "He couldn't ha' killed that feller 'thout a gun."

      "That's a fact," agreed Anderson Crow. "Well, we've got to get him, anyhow. I call for volunteers! Who will join me in the search?" cried the marshal bravely.

      "I hate to go to Crow's Cliff after him," said George Ray. "It's a lonesome place, and as dark as night 'mong them trees and rocks."

      "It's our duty to catch him. He's a criminal, and besides, he's killed a man," said Crow severely.

      "And he has twenty-one dollars of your money," added Harry Squires. "I'll go with you, Anderson. I've got a revolver."

      "Look out there!" roared Anderson Crow. "The blamed thing might go off!" he added as the reporter drew a shiny six-shooter from his pocket.

      The example set by one brave man had its influence on the crowd. A score or more volunteered, despite the objections of their wives, and it was not long before Anderson Crow was leading his motley band of sleuths down the lane to the foot-log over which the desperado had gone an hour before.

      It was at the beginning of the man-hunt that various citizens recalled certain actions and certain characteristics of the stranger which had made them suspicious from the start. His prodigal disposition of the box of matches impressed most of them as reckless dare-devilism; his haste, anxiety, and a single instance of mild profanity told others of his viciousness. One man was sure he had seen the stranger's watch chain in farmer Grover's possession; and another saw something black on his thumb, which he now remembered was a powder stain.

      "I noticed all them things," averred Anderson Crow, supreme once more.

      "But what in thunder did he want with those hair-pins?" inquired George Ray.

      "Never mind," said Anderson mysteriously. "You'll find out soon enough."

      "Do you know Anderson?" some one asked.

      "Of course I do," responded the marshal loftily.

      "Well, what were they for, then?"

      "I'm not givin' any clews away. You just wait a while and see if I'm not right."

      And they were satisfied that the detective knew all about it. After crossing the foot-log the party was divided as to which direction it should take. The marshal said the man had run to the southeast, but for some inexplicable reason quite a number of the pursuers wanted to hunt for him in the northwest. Finally it was decided to separate into posses of ten, all to converge at Crow's Cliff as soon as possible. There were enough double-barrelled shotguns in the party to have conquered a pirate crew.

      At the end of an hour Anderson Crow and his delegation came to the narrow path which led to the summit of Crow's Cliff. They were very brave by this time. A small boy was telling them he had seen the fugitive about dinner-time "right where you fellers are standin' now."

      "Did he have any blood on him?" demanded Anderson Crow.

      "No, sir; not 'less it was under his clothes."

      "Did he say anythin' to you?"

      "He ast me where this path went to."

      "See that, gentlemen!" cried Anderson. "I knew I was right. He wanted—"

      "Well, where did he go?" demanded Harry Squires.

      "I said it went to the top of the clift. An' then he said, 'How do you git to the river?' I tole him to go down this side path here an' 'round the bottom of the hill."

      "Didn't he go up the cliff?" demanded the marshal.

      "No, sir."

      "Well, what in thunder did he ask me where the cliff was if he—"

      "So he went to the river, eh?" interrupted Squires. "Come on, men; he went down through this brush and bottomland."

      "He got lost, I guess," volunteered the boy.

      "What!"

      "'Cause he yelled at me after he'd gone in a-ways an' ast—an' ast—" The boy paused irresolutely.

      "Asked what?"

      "He ast me where in h—— the path was."

      "By ginger, that's him, right out an' out!" exclaimed Mr. Crow excitedly.

      "'Nen he said he'd give me a quarter if I'd show him the way; so I—"

      "Did he give you the quarter?" questioned one of the men.

      "Yep. He'd a roll of bills as big as my leg." Everybody gasped and thought of Grover's hog-money.

      "You went to the river with him?" interrogated the reporter.

      "I went as fur as the clearin', an' then he tole me to stop. He said he could find the way from there. After that he run up the bank as if some one was after him. There was a boat waitin' fer him under the clift."

      "Did he get into it?" cried Squires.

      "He tole me not to look or he'd break my neck," said the boy. The posse nervously fingered its arsenal.

      "But you did look?"

      "Yep. I seen 'em plain."

      "Them? Was there more than one?"

      "There was a woman in the skift."

      "You don't say so!" gasped Squires.

      "Dang it, ain't he tellin' you!" Anderson ejaculated scornfully.

      The boy was hurried off at the head of the posse, which by this time had been reinforced. He led the way through the dismal thickets, telling his story as he went.

      "She was mighty purty, too," he said. "The feller waved his hat when he seen her, an' she waved back. He run down an' jumped in the boat, an' 'nen—'nen—"

      "Then what?" exploded Anderson Crow.

      "He kissed her!"

      "The d—— murderer!" roared Crow.

      "He grabbed up the oars and rowed 'cross an' downstream. An' he shuck his fist at me when he see I'd been watchin'," said the youngster, ready to whimper now that he realised what a desperate character he had been dealing with.

      "Where did he land on the other side?" pursued the eager reporter.

      "Down by them

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