Now that he had started, Mr. Buxton threw more vigor into his steps. He bounded in the air, side-stepped, kicked out his feet, tried a number of fancy movements of which he knew nothing, and acted like an energetic youth taking his first lessons in that branch of the terpsich.o.r.ean art called buck dancing.

"Turn your back toward me and dance all the way home! If you let up for one minute or look around I'll blaze away, and you won't get the charge in your _feet_! Remember that!"

Mr. Buxton reflected that having left home so jauntily with loaded weapon over his shoulder, it would be anything but a dignified return to dance back again without it. If he jig-stepped down the main street some neighbor was likely to see him and make remarks. A waltz through the gate, up the steps of the porch and into the hall, by which time it would probably be safe for him to cease his exhausting performance, would undoubtedly cause annoying inquiries on the part of his wife and family.

But there was hope. He might gain a start that would make it safe to resume his natural gait. He did his best. Facing the boundary fence less than two hundred yards away he kicked up his heels, swung his arms in unison, and steadily drew away from that fearful form standing with gun levelled at him. He yearned to break into a run, but dared not. He believed his tormentor was following so as to keep him in range.

It was hardly to be expected that he should go over the fence with a dance step, but he reflected that he could resume his labors immediately he dropped to the ground on the other side and faithfully maintain it to the next boundary. But there was risk and he was afraid to incur it.

While still shifting his feet with an energy that caused him to breathe fast, he approached the obstruction. Partly turning his head while toiling as hard as ever, he called:

"I'll have to stop a minute till I climb over, but I'll resoom dancing as soon as I hit the ground on the other side agin. Is that all right?"

There was no reply and he repeated the question in a louder voice. Still hearing nothing, he ventured to look back. The young man was nowhere in sight. Truth to tell, no sooner had Mr. Buxton begun his humorous exhibition than the youth, vainly trying to suppress his mirth, flung down the gun, turned about and entered the wood toward which he was running when so abruptly checked by his pursuer.

"Wal, I'll be hanged!" was the disgusted exclamation of the panting Buxton. "That's the meanest trick I ever had played on me. The scand'lous villain oughter be hung. What a sight I made! I'm mighty glad no one seen me."

In his relief, he did not notice a vague form which flitted along the edge of the wood, so close to the trees that the shadow screened it from clear view. Had Mr. Buxton noted it he might not have felt certain that no one witnessed his unrivalled performance.

He was so tired out from his tremendous efforts that he stood awhile mopping his moist forehead with his handkerchief while he regained his wind.

"It's lucky he didn't foller and make me dance all the way home. Never could have done it. Would have dropped dead, I am that blamed tired."

He leaned against the fence while recovering from his unwonted exercise.

Naturally he believed the young man who had used him so ill had carried away his weapon beyond possibility of recovery.

"And I paid twenty-five dollars for it in Portland," he bitterly mused.

"It looks to me that as a hunter of post office robbers I ain't of much account."

He resumed his walk homeward, going slowly, carefully climbing the obstructions in his path and studying what explanation to make to his friends for the loss of his valuable piece. He might manage it with all except his wife and son. It would not do to tell them he had dropped it somewhere along the road without noticing the accident. A boy might lose his pocketknife (I know of a youngster who lost a wheelbarrow and never found it again), but a double barreled shotgun manifestly could not disappear in that fashion so much out of the ordinary way of things.

"I think I'll have a look at the post office and larn what mischief the villain done there."

He veered in his course and came to the back window, where a light showed that some persons were gathered. He found mother, daughter and the three boys, who gave him warm greeting.

"Was that your gun we heard a little while ago?" asked the woman.

"I reckon it must have been," replied Mr. Buxton, who declined the invitation to enter and remained standing outside the window.

"Did you hit the burglar?" asked Alvin.

"Young man," said Mr. Buxton loftily, "when I fire at anything I _always_ hit it."

"You didn't kill him, Gerald!" exclaimed the horrified mother.

"No; I just winged him so he won't forget it if he lives a thousand years; don't like to kill a scamp even if he is a burglar."

"Where's your gun?" continued Alvin.

The man glanced around as if it were hidden somewhere about his garments.

"Now isn't that a fine go?" he exclaimed disgustedly. "I set it down while I went forward to see how bad that feller was. .h.i.t, and plumb forgot."

"O dad, here's your gun!"

It was the son Jim who called this greeting as he straddled forward with the heavy piece resting on his shoulder. All stared in amazement, and the father in his confusion was imprudent enough to ask:

"Where did you get it?"

"I seen that feller that took it away from you and made you dance all the way across the field. He throwed it down and went into the woods. When I seen you hopping and dancing and kicking up your heels I nearly died a-larfing. But I didn't forgit the gun, and run along the edge of the woods and picked it up. Gee! it's heavy! But, dad, I didn't know you could dance like that. Say----"

"You young rascal, didn't I tell you to stay home? I'll larn you!"

The parent made a dive at his son, who, with the gun still over his shoulder, scooted across the yard and over the fence, with his irate father in fierce pursuit.

CHAPTER XXI

HOW IT WAS DONE

The attempt to rob the safe in the Beartown post office was accompanied by more than one unique incident. Chief among these was the cowardice exhibited by two of the three members who composed the little band of lawbreakers.

It has been shown that the full-grown man with a big mustache acted as a lookout at the front, which is perhaps the safest post for a criminal in such circ.u.mstances, since he has a good chance to get away on the first approach of danger. A second lookout was placed at the rear.

After-developments showed that the trio was headed by Kit Woodford, the adult member, who had led a life of crime since boyhood and had served a term in prison. He would have been more successful as a criminal except for his rank cowardice which caused him to be despised and cast out by several gangs with which he sought to connect himself.

The other two burglars were Orestes Noxon and Graff Miller, neither of whom had reached his majority by more than two years. It was Miller who took his station at the rear, where on the first sign of something amiss he sneaked off without giving the signal which would have warned Noxon in time to flee unharmed. In his way, he was as lacking in personal courage as Kit Woodford. The latter held his place until the racket caused by Mike Murphy's tumble downstairs apprised him that things were not going right. He ventured upon a single timid whistle, which no one else heard, and then slunk down the road, hugging the shadows and intent only on saving his own bacon.

How was it that young Noxon was a.s.signed the most perilous task of all, when in reality he was the youngest of the three? It was due to a peculiar skill which neither of the others possessed. He proved more than once that he could take position in front of an ordinary safe--not the most modern kind--and by a wonderfully deft manipulation of the k.n.o.b which governed the combination tell by the fall of the tumblers just when the index struck the right numerals. He demonstrated this power many times when all others who made the trial failed. He asked simply to be left undisturbed with his ear against the steel door as he turned the k.n.o.b with infinite delicacy. He was proud of his ability in this respect, and when Kit Woodford gave him the post of peril he accepted it as a compliment and eagerly essayed the task.

Although there is no evidence on the point, it is quite sure that Kit Woodford, whose chief business was to spy out the land, knew that several wealthy citizens of Beartown made a practice of leaving large deposits with Mrs. Friestone overnight or for several nights and days. It is not to be supposed that Woodford would rob so insignificant a post office for the small booty that belonged to the government. Quite likely he was aware of the large sum left with her on the afternoon before.

But Mike Murphy's original style of descending the back stairs brought the schemes of the criminals to naught, and saved the safe from spoliation. I have told how the three criminals scattered to as many different points of the compa.s.s. They could not have come together again had not previous provision been made for such emergencies. The leader, having shaken himself clear of the village, turned into the wood and picked his way toward the river. He was to the north, however, while the other lookout, Miller, was to the south, and neither knew how far apart they were.

There seemed little risk in signalling, and after Woodford had gone half way to the river he paused among the shadows and listened. He had been startled by the report of the gun, but everything was now still. Placing his thumb and forefinger between his lips, he emitted a sharp, tremulous whistle, which was instantly answered by a similar call from some point not far off. A few minutes later he and Miller, after a few precautions, came together among the shadows.

"I knew you would be somewhere in the neighborhood," was the young man's explanation, "and I was listening for your signal."

"Well," growled the elder, "Noxon made a mess of it to-night."

"It looks that way."

"Do you know what happened? Did you see anything?"

"I saw him dash out from the rear of that store with someone chasing him with a loaded gun."

"That must have been what we heard a little while ago. Looks as if they got Nox."