Books: Jim Cummings
F >>
Frank Pinkerton >> Jim Cummings
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 |
4 |
5 |
6 | 7 |
8 |
9
Smoothing the blankets over the bear skins, the two friends lay down and
a whispered conversation commenced.
"What were Cummings and Moriarity talking about, Chip?" said Sam, in a
cautious tone.
"Cummings wants to rob the old man, Swanson. He says he's got thousands
of dollars salted somewhere around here and thinks they might as well
make hay while the sun shines, but Dan was afraid to do it."
"What a precious pair of rascals, but we can use this idea first-rate to
get them over the line again."
"I thought of the same thing as they were talking. If you could only
bring it up without awaking any suspicions, we might offer to help him
do the job."
"Trust me for that, old fellow. Even if we have to commit actual
robbery, I'll do it."
"Well, keep your eyes open, and don't be caught sleeping. Go to sleep,
now. I'll keep first watch."
This was the regular system of the two operators. While one slept the
other kept watch and to this fact a large portion of their success was
due.
The ranche became quiet, its denizens all sleeping, and the night passed
without any disturbance.
CHAPTER XIV.
THE DOCTOR TURNS CONSPIRATOR--THE PLOT TO ROB THE RANCHE.
The pseudo doctor had been at the ranche a week, during which he had
become quite chummy with Jim Cummings and Dan Moriarity, who, finding
that time hung very heavy on their hands, welcomed the jovial, story-
telling doctor and spent most of their time in his company.
Swanson, who was moving his stock further west and making preparations
for the spring round-up, was obliged to be in the saddle all day and
sometimes late at night. Although a hard drinker, an unscrupulous rascal
and an inveterate gambler, he was a good stock-raiser, and kept good
care of his cattle. He employed a large force of cowboys or herders,
and, acting himself as captain of the round-up, he would absent himself
from home for days at a time.
One morning the Doctor, flashing a significant glance toward Scip, which
said, "Take your cue and follow me," remarked in a careless tone:
"I reckon the old man must have considerable dust salted down by this
time."
As the remark was a general one made to Cummings, Moriarity and Scip,
the latter answered:
"Yes, sah; Mass Swanson got a pile of gold laid up for a rainy day,
suah."
The Doctor continued:
"He's had more than the average run of good luck the last few years. He
told me the other day that he only lost a few head all year, and was
just going to ship a big lot to Chicago."
Cummings, blowing a blue column of tobacco smoke toward the rafters,
said:
"It's always been a question to me where he keeps his money. There's no
bank around here."
"Oh! he's a shrewd old chap, Swanson is," replied the Doctor. He has a
private bank somewhere near here probably."
"Seems to me that would be pretty risky," said Cummings. "If he keeps it
planted around here what would hinder some one from finding the cache
and getting off with the plunder?"
"I made that very remark to him," the Doctor answered; "and he laughed
and said it would take something smarter than a cowboy or an Injun to
find it, but there are others beside cowboys and Injuns that come this
way," with a meaning smile. Cummings noted the smile, and glancing at
Moriarity, said:
"How would you go at it, Doctor, if you were to make the attempt?"
The Doctor laughed quietly, as if he appreciated the joke, and leaning
back in his chair, his thumbs in the arm-holes of his vest, his feet
stretched on a chair before him, he answered:
"Well, Cummings, I don't know as I would like to do it. Swanson's a good
friend of mine, and--"
"Hang it all, man, who the devil asked you to do it?" replied Jim,
hotly. "I was only joking; do you think I wanted you to--"
"Not at all, my dear fellow, not at all," said the Doctor, in a soothing
tone. "No one supposed for a minute that you thought of such a thing,
but if I was going to do a job like that I wouldn't care to do it alone.
Two, certainly not more than three, more to help would be necessary. I
would go at it about this way: The first thing would be to find out
where Swanson kept his money. It is doubtless kept in close proximity to
this place, evidently well secreted, for Swanson is not a man to let his
right hand know what his left hand is doing. I think I would be apt to
get him full some evening, then let him win a big pot from me in poker,
and, feigning drunkenness, I would watch very keenly what he did with
the money. You may depend on it, it is somewhere in this house. After I
ascertained the hiding-place I would surprise the old fellow in his
sleep with the aid of my confederates, and gagging him, and then binding
his arms and feet, would rob his bank at my pleasure. THAT is the way I
should do it."
Cummings had followed every word, nodding his approval and manifesting
his interest in various ways, and, without noticing what he was saying,
muttered to himself, but so loud that the Doctor overheard it, "Just the
way I would do it, and I will yet."
"What makes you think Swanson keeps his wealth on the premises, Doctor?"
asked Moriarity.
"Safest and most convenient place," replied the Doctor, "He probably has
had a special hole or cranny made for it, a double wall of some room,
behind some picture or something like that. I recollect a chap that had
a picture in his room, fastened close to the wall just like that picture
there," and the Doctor pointed to the only picture in the house, a
representation of the ranche painted by some wandering artist. "It was a
painting of a man's face and by pressing the eye a spring was released
and the whole picture swung back, showing a cavity back of it in which
the old miser kept his valuables."
Scip, who was always cutting some caper, here rose to his feet, saying
"Dunno, but mebbe Massa Swanson keep he truck behind that chromiow. Heah
now, I'se Massa Swanson," and Scip imitated Swanson's gait, "I'se
playin' poker wid you gemmen. I'se out o' cash; Massa Cummins thar, he
got a king full, and lay ovah my bob-tail flush, I say, 'Hole on thar,
Massa Cummins, I'se got to unlock de combinashun of my safe.' Den I walk
ovah to de picture, an' I hit a crack with my fist, so Well, I be
damned!"
The rest sprang to their feet in astonishment for, illustrating his
remarks, Scip had struck the center of the oil painting with his hand,
and stood dumb-founded, for the picture noiselessly swung forward and
disclosed a large recess in the wall in which little sacks of some sort
of money were piled one on the other. Scip, who was evidently the most
surprised one of the party, was, however, the first to regain his
composure. Pushing the frame to its place again the sharp click of the
spring lock was heard, and turning swiftly around he caught meaning
glances passing between Cummings and Moriarity.
"Humph!" he said to himself, "Swanson's money is as good as gone now
unless we nab these two rascals soon."
The Doctor, who had reseated himself, remarked in a tone of wonder,
"Really, this is a most remarkable coincidence, most remarkable indeed."
"Oh! shut up that mummery, Doctor," broke in Cummings roughly, as he
reared his head and squared his shoulders evidently intending to make a
strike, "You and your nigger knew all about this, so you may as well own
up."
The Doctor, receiving a nod from Scip, leaned forward, his eyes fastened
intently on Cummings and his voice sunk to a low whisper, replied:
"And you may as well own up, too. We're all in the same boat. That is
just what you are here for, and if you think I am fool enough to loaf
around this hole a week for nothing, it shows you don't know me. I need
you two and you need Scip and myself. Come, is it a bargain?"
In answer Cummings held out his hand. The Doctor grasped it cordially
and holding his left hand to Moriarity, who took it, said:
"We four, for Scip is my pal, can do it OK, We can--"
"Why not do it now," said Cummings, with energy. "Our horses are here
and we can put a whole day between us and the ranche before Swanson
returns."
Now this was just what Sam (the Doctor) did not want. During the week
which he and Scip had been spending at the ranche, seven or eight new
men had been taken in by Swanson, who, as was before said, was getting
in shape for the spring round-up. Of these new men six were Pinkerton
detectives, and at this particular time were several miles from the
ranche herding cattle. It was necessary that these men should be
notified by Scip of the plot, and be ready to spring the trap as soon as
the game was in the toils. For this reason the Doctor did not want the
robbery to occur before the next night at the earliest. So shaking his
head decidedly, he said in an emphatic manner:
"No, it won't do; it would spoil the whole thing. All the money is in
the shape of specie and tied up in bags. We have nothing in which to
carry it, and would have to load it as it is on our horses. Besides,
Swanson is expecting a large payment for his last shipment to-day. I
know this, as he told me so, and we may make ten thousand dollars by
waiting a day longer."
After some demurring, Cummings acquiesced, although with very bad grace.
"All right, have it your own way; but no later than to-morrow night."
"To-morrow night it is, then," said the Doctor; then, as if struck with
some suspicion, he turned suddenly and said:
"And the Lord have mercy on your soul, Jim Cummings, if you or your mate
play us false."
"No fear of that, Doctor," replied the train robber. "You'll find me
true blue at any rate--you're a man after my own heart. I wish I had
known you sooner."
"Why?"
"Because, last October I did a little job and was almost nabbed because
one of my pals weakened."
Moriarity looked somewhat confused, but apparently not noticing it (but
in reality nothing escaped the hawk eyes of the disguised detective) the
Doctor said:
"Last October! By Jove, you ARE the Jim Cummings that did up the Adams
Express Co. The papers were full of it. If there is any man I have
wanted to meet it is you." And the Doctor with great enthusiasm grasped
the express robber's hand with every expression of intense admiration
beaming from his eyes.
His vanity tickled by this expression of homage, Cummings drew himself
to his full height, and replied:
"Well, yes, I did that work, and if you will stick by me we can work
another one just as good."
"I'm with you, and when I say 'I,' it means Scip, too, for he is a
treasure."
Scip ducked his head as he said:
"We's a hull team and a dog under the waggin, but, Massa Doctor, I'se
goin' out to look after the bosses," and he left the room.
Moriarity, picking up a rifle and cartridge belt, said he was going out
for a canter and see what luck he could have in the way of game. This
left Cummings and the Doctor alone.
Glancing out the window they saw Moriarity gallop off, and a short
distance behind Scip on his horse, following.
"Where did you pick up that darkey, Doctor?" asked Cummings.
"In St. Louis, about five years ago. He is a good one, faithful and
brave, and will never squeal. He is just the man to help us on this new
deal."
The subject of this conversation was all this time galloping over the
level prairie, following closely behind Moriarity, who, with his rifle
thrown across the pommel of his saddle, was on the look out for anything
in the way of game which might come along.
As they rode along they would meet one of the herders sitting at ease on
his horse, or galloping madly after some refractory steer that was
making a break for freedom. They had, in their ride, passed four of
these men, and to every one Scip gave a signal, merely the wave of his
hand in a peculiar manner, to which the men had responded likewise. They
were nearing another stand, the ranchman, astride his pony, stood
against the sky like a bronze bit of sculpture. As they came within
speaking distance Scip, drawing in his horse, said.
"I's goin' to loaf aroun' heah a bit, Massa Dan, I'll wait fer you."
"All right," responded Dan, who gave his horse the spurs and swiftly
disappeared behind the swell of land. Scip, walking his nag, drew near
the cowboy.
"Hye thar, honey, got any 'bacco?"
"Plenty, blacky, plenty,"
"Den give me some."
"What is it, Chip?" asked the cowboy as Moriarity swept out of sight.
"We have work to do to-morrow night, Barney, you must get the boys
together, go down the divide to the ford and cross over, ready to come
when I whistle. To-morrow night we must bag our game."
"We will be there, Chip, and I am glad of it, for its devilish
monotonous staying out here all day."
"There will be a break in the monotony that will suit you. Be sure to be
at the other side of the ford before twelve to-morrow night."
Chip then explained to him the details of the projected robbery and the
plan of capturing the outlaws as soon as they had crossed into Kansas,
for the divide was the southern state line of that state.
Barney, again repeating his statement that he would be there, loped his
horse after some cattle that was straying too far off, and Chip, or
rather Scip, stretching himself on the ground, awaited Moriarity's
return.
They arrived home in time for supper, and found Swanson had returned
from Blue Jacket, where he had gone that morning, and the fact that he
had made up beds for the Doctor and Scip in a side room was accepted by
Cummings as proof that he had received the money he expected and wanted
the room to himself that he might put his wealth behind the picture
unobserved.
The next day the ranche was deserted save by the four conspirators, who
made preparations for the robbery of Swanson's money which was to take
place that night. The picture was tried until the proper point for
touching the hidden spring was found. A supply of food was quietly
secreted in a bag and hid near the divide. Some heavy flour sacks made
of canvas were ripped open and suitable bags for carrying the money were
made from the pieces. All these preparations were made without
interruption or discovery, and excepting a long ride which Scip made in
the afternoon, ostensibly for the purpose of exercising his horse but
really that he might again see the detectives who were acting as
cowboys, the day wore along without any incident out of the ordinary
way.
CHAPTER XV.
THE ROBBERY--CUMMINGS' NARROW ESCAPE--THE CAPTURE OF MORIARITY--JIM
CUMMINGS SLIPS FROM THE TOILS--MR. PINKERTON TAKES A HAND.
The ranche was asleep. Heavy breathing and deep snores from the
sleeping-rooms indicated that slumber had fallen on all the inmates.
Swanson, who had been repeatedly urged to drink by Cummings and
Moriarity and had accepted every invitation, was stretched on his back a
drunken mass of stupidity.
The stamping of the horses and distant movements of the thousands of
head of cattle alone broke the silence of the night and the darkness had
cast its pall over the entire place.
In the large room Scip and the Doctor coolly and calmly awaited the hour
of their triumph. Fear was a stranger to both, and as they quietly
conversed in whispered accents it would be difficult to believe that
they were about to engage in a most desperate enterprise. In another
room lay Cummings and Moriarity, completely dressed. The former, with
his habitual sang froid, was whispering to Moriarity, who, somewhat
excited, was calmed by his companion's nonchalance, and as the hour for
the work drew near became like him. A stealthy step, noiseless as an
Indian's, interrupted the conversation, and the faint rap on the door
gave them the long-looked-for signal.
Creeping on their hands and knees down the hall past Swanson's door,
through which his hoarse breathing could be heard, the two men entered
the room in which the treasure was stored. The dying embers in the fire-
place created a dull glow, showing the Doctor and Scip, booted and
spurred, standing in the center of the room. Softly Cummings approached
the picture, his finger found the spring through the canvas and,
pressing it hard, the frame swung slowly forward as if reluctant to give
up its precious charge.
Rapidly taking one bag after another from the cavity Cummings passed
them to Moriarity, who placed them in the bags prepared for them.
The Doctor and Scip had gone outside and now brought the four horses
nearer the door. This they did that they might have as little to do with
the robbery as possible, and they had so managed it that Jim and Dan had
done the actual theft.
Moriarity had brought two of the bags which the Doctor had placed on his
own and Scip's horse and had gone back for the third, when the door from
the inner hall opened, and, his tangled hair hanging in mats over his
eyes, his clothing disarranged, his face purple with rage and a revolver
in each hand, Swanson appeared before the surprised robbers.
The dim light of the fire showed the picture open, and befogged as his
brain was by the whisky, he realized he was being robbed, and with a
roar like a mad bull he sprang upon Cummings.
Swift as a flash Cummings' fist, sent forward with all the force of his
powerful frame, struck the ranchman under the ear, and tossing his arms
above his head he fell like a dead man on the floor.
The sound of many feet hurrying to the scene was heard and, leaving the
bag which he was about to take when Swanson sprang on him, Cummings
bolted through the door, vaulted on his horse and followed closely by
his companions, rushed swiftly into the darkness. It was none too soon,
for at once a half score of men poured from the house, and the vicious
snap of the rifles, followed by the pin-n-n-g of the bullets, as they
cut the air close to their heads, caused the four men to drive their
spurs into their ponies until the blood dropped from their lacerated
flanks.
Galloping swiftly to where the herding ponies were tethered, Cummings
sprang from his horse and, whipping out his keen bowie knife, cut lariat
after lariat, stampeding the whole herd. This done he remounted his
horse, saying,
"NOW, we can take our time. They won't get a horse to saddle under an
hour," cantered off with an easy, strength-saving gait.
"Curse that Swanson," broke in Cummings, after riding in silence a few
moments. "Curse him, he kept me from making an extra ten thousand by his
cursed appearance."
Neither the Doctor nor Scip replied to this outburst from the
disappointed outlaw. The time for action was coming, and as fast as
their horses could gallop, the two outlaws were riding toward the trap
laid for them. Leaning forward, with the skill of an expert pickpocket,
Scip drew the revolver from the holster on Cummings' saddle, and dropped
it in the dry grass which bordered the trail. Watching his opportunity,
he pushed his horse against Moriarity, and in the slight confusion
caused by the collision, he managed to obtain Dan's revolver in the same
way. A whisper told the doctor that this had been done, and the
disguised detectives each rode beside the man which they were to
capture, the Doctor keeping his eye on Cummings and Scip ready to pull
Moriarity off his horse at the proper time.
On the other side of the river, or divide, dark shadows stood under the
few cottonwood trees, motionless and quiet as the grave, their ears
strained to catch the first sound of their quarry, and their hands
grasping the ready revolver.
The far-off sound of galloping horses warned them that the time to act
had come, and soon the splashing of the water in the creek told them to
stand ready.
The voice of Scip was heard saying in loud tones:
"Heah's de trail, gemmen, ovah dis yah way."
The scurry of hoofs as the horses clambered up the steep banks, the low-
spoken words of encouragement which were given their steeds by the
robbers, and suddenly the shrill whistle giving the long-looked-for
signal rang out on the still air.
As Scip gave the whistle he passed his arm around Moriarity, saying:
"Dan Moriarity, you are my prisoner."
His words were instantly followed by the rush of the detectives who had
been lying in ambush, and Moriarity, taken completely by surprise, threw
his hands above his head in token of surrender, and then passively
submitted to having the darbies snapped on his wrists.
Cummings, at the first note of the vibrating signal, had his eyes
opened. His hand flew to his holster, and the mocking laugh of the
detective followed the discovery that his revolver was gone.
Sam laid his hand on the outlaw's shoulder, and pressing his revolver
against his head, called on him to surrender.
Throwing his hands over his head as Moriarity had done, he suddenly
brought his clinched fists full against Sam's temple, putting into the
blow the strength of three men. Without a groan the detective's head
sank forward, his revolver dropped from his nerveless grasp, and he lay
unconscious on his horse's back.
A yell of exultation, and Cummings, turning his horse, dashed down the
bank, through the stream, and disappeared in the darkness on the other
side.
Instantly the detectives followed, leaving two men to guard Moriarity,
for in the darkness Sam's condition was not noticed, but seeing the
folly of attempting a pursuit in so dark a night, Chip's whistle
recalled them, and the chagrined and disappointed operatives gathered
around the cottonwood trees.
Sam, who had merely been stunned, soon recovered, and with the aid of
some brandy Richard was himself once more.
The notorious Jim Cummings had escaped, but two of his accomplices, Cook
and Moriarity, were in the clutches of the law.
Dan maintained a dogged silence as the cavalcade cantered toward Kansas
City, nor did he speak a word until he was safe behind the bars in that
city.
"You have caught me by a dirty, shabby trick, but you will never lay
your hands on Jim Cummings," he boasted.
To this Chip replied with a smile, "We'll see, Daniel, we'll see. Make
yourself comfortable, for you will stay here a good long time, my cock
robin."
A growl and a curse was all that Dan deigned to answer, and turning on
his heel Chip left the prison.
Mr. Pinkerton, who had received almost daily reports of what had
occurred, which reports Chip had contrived to mail through some one of
the detectives disguised as cowboys, now telegraphed that he would be in
Kansas City the following night. Chip and Sam met him at the railway
station and he accompanied them to Chip's room.
A full and detailed recital of all that occurred was given him by his
subordinates, who then put the case in his hands.
"Boys," he said, "we must get one of these men, either Cook or
Moriarity, to squeal."
"They are both afraid of Jim Cummings, I can see that in every word they
speak," said Chip, "they would rather go to Jefferson City than to turn
State's evidence."
"We must work on them in some other manner, then. Sam," turning to the
detective, "are you a good hand at forgery?"
"I can imitate most any one's handwriting," said Sam. "Sit down and I
will dictate a letter to you."
Sam, taking some paper from the table, wrote as Mr. Pinkerton dictated.
MR. WILLIAM PINKERTON:
DEAR SIR--The letter I wrote to the St. Louis Globe-Democrat is all
correct, excepting that I did not tell who plugged the bell-cord. The
man, Dan Moriarity, who is now under arrest in Kansas City, was the man
who did it. He also forged the order which I gave to the messenger
Fotheringham, and was the one who planned the robbery. I make this
statement, relying on your word of honor to secure me a light sentence
if I turn State's evidence and give information leading to the recovery
of the money which I secured.
Yours truly, JIM CUMMINGS.
Mr. Pinkerton, taking from his pocket-book the train robber's letter
which he wrote to the St. Louis newspaper, handed it to Sam.
"There is a letter in Jim's handwriting. Now sit down and write this
letter in the same hand."
In an hour the detective had completed his work and laid the forged
letter before his superior. It was cleverly done, and Mr. Pinkerton felt
satisfied.
"Now for the jail," he said, and accompanied by his two "bowers," as he
often called them, he left the room and walked to the Kansas City jail.
CHAPTER XVI.
MORIARITY IN THE SWEAT-BOX--THE SUCCESS OF THE FORGED LETTER--MORIARITY
CONFESSES.
Dan Moriarity, seated on a bare plank bench in his cell, was passing
away the weary hours in figuring how he was to get out of the bad scrape
into which he had plunged. He was now fully satisfied that the
detectives were very certain that he had a hand in the express-car
robbery--but how did they get hold of that dangerous fact? Not through
Cook, for since his incarceration in the jail Dan had talked with Cook
in the corridors, and Cook had sworn by all that was good and holy that
he had not divulged a single word, and knowing that Cook stood in mortal
fear of Cummings, as did he himself, Dan believed him.
It was not at all probable that either Haight or Weaver had given the
thing away in Chicago, for Dan knew from Cummings that they had not been
disturbed, and Cummings had not, or would not have given any
information. Then how did the cursed "man-hunters" find out that he had
helped in the affair?
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 |
4 |
5 |
6 | 7 |
8 |
9