"Don't move! n.o.body!"

"Cap'n, I don' crave to move, an' de fat boy kain't, any more dan de dead man in de cellar."

The Sheriff's voice came out of the night clear as the cold stars. "Cut a piece of that rope and tie this man's hands."

The Wildcat was a little slow about tying a white man's hands, but he glanced at the blue-nosed equalizer dimly outlined in the Sheriff's steady hand and accelerated his gestures.

"Tie up that other man layin' on the deck. Tie them two men together."

"Cap'n, yessuh. How 'bout de dead boy layin' in de boat cellar?"

The Sheriff, fearing a ruse, hesitated for only a moment.

"Drop a rope down there and crawl down where he is. Tie it under his arms and then come back and haul him up."

"I's skeered to touch dat boy; feared he come back and follow me."

The Sheriff swung the gun at the Wildcat.

"Hurry up, before I spatter a hole through you."

"Cap'n, yessuh." The Wildcat made a line fast and threw the end of it into the hull of the fish wheel. He retrieved Mr. Skooglund from his environment of flopping salmon and tied the line under the arms of the inert man. He scrambled back on deck and hauled the Swede after him.

"Get a bucket of water and throw it on him."

Under this ungentle treatment the victim presently opened his eyes. He reached an unsteady hand to his head and inspected a k.n.o.b thereon the size of an egg.

"Yust ven I hear de little angels iss singing, de earthquake troo de church down on me."

His vision encountered the Sheriff and the Wildcat.

"Was any salmon saved?"

The Sheriff rea.s.sured him.

"You had a wallop on the head. You're all right now." He abandoned Mr.

Skooglund for a moment and turned to the Wildcat.

"Where's the dividend?"

"Cap'n, how come?"

"Come through with the clean up. You got enough watches and rings from them pa.s.sengers to sink this craft."

"Mebbe it's de bag."

Convoyed by the swinging muzzle of the Sheriff's gun, the Wildcat dived again into the open hatch and returned presently with the jingling wheat sack swung about his shoulders.

The Sheriff inspected the contents.

"That's it."

He turned to the Swede.

"You able to walk?"

It seemed that Mr. Skooglund could navigate on his hind legs. The fat bad actor still lay unconscious on the deck. The Wildcat had done a good job with the oar, and it took six buckets of water to bring the fat man out of his slumbers. The quartette preceded the Sheriff down the narrow gang plank to the bank. They made their way a mile upstream and came upon the Sheriff's horse, hitched fast to a cottonwood on the river bank. The Sheriff fired his revolver three times in the air. Half an hour later he yelled loudly, and an answering call came from the distance through the night.

"That's the rest of the gang."

The party was joined presently by half a dozen riders. Two hours later the Wildcat, heavily ironed, rode beside Mr. Skooglund in the smoking car of the train headed for The Dalles. Dawn was breaking as the Sheriff and his companions marched up the street from the station.

Presently, in a cell apart from the rest of the world, the Wildcat heard the clanking of the heavy bolts which made the cell door a barrier.

"Lady Luck, how come?"

6.

Lady Luck was on the job. At eleven o'clock that morning the fat bad actor confessed, and in his confession the Wildcat was cleared.

A Deputy brought a telegram to the Sheriff. The Sheriff read it.

"Thousand dollars, hey? Looks to me like that n.i.g.g.e.r deserves the reward." The Sheriff was honest. "Fetch him in here."

The Wildcat was hazed into the Sheriff's presence.

"The railroad is paying a thousand dollars reward for roundin' up them two men. Maybe they'd got loose if you hadn't nailed that one in the head. I'll give you a letter to the Portland office and you can go down there and get your money."

"Cap'n, yessuh. Hot dam! Fish always was lucky with me."

Mr. Skooglund augmented the reward with a personal offer.

"Any time you wanting a salmon fisk I give you one free."

"Cap'n, suh, I sho' is much obliged, but if I neveh see a fish again, dat's twice too soon fo' me."

CHAPTER XI

The Wildcat felt n.o.ble. Against yesterday's clouds tomorrow's skies lay blue. The Sheriff's office at The Dalles was a comfortable place wherein to wait for the thousand-dollar reward which Lady Luck had showered down on her prodigal protege.

Half asleep, the Wildcat mumbled to a buzzing fly. "'At's it. Tryin' to bust yo' brains out on de window gla.s.s. 'At's how come you ain't got none. Cravin' to git loose all de time. S'pose you git loose? Whah at would you go? Some ol' spidah'd git you de fust mile. Ca'm yo'se'f.

Heah you is in de sunshine an' all warmed up. You jess like folks--neveh knows when you's lucky."

The Wildcat's soliloquy was interrupted by a verbal volley from the Sheriff. "Here's your letter. Take it down to the railroad office in Portland; they'll pay you the thousand-dollar reward for helping capture that pair of train robbers."