TWENTY Thousand Dollars.

Mount Ida Chronicle, Volume II, Issue 135, 29 September 1871, Page 6

TWENTY Thousand Dollars.

Prentiss Beoom had nearly twenty thousand dollars carefully stowed under the flaps of his saddle. He had; lifted the money that afternoon from the bank at the village of Caramore, and he was warned that suspicious characters had been lurking about the place for a day or so. However, Broom was anxious to reach home that night, as he knew his wife, Nell, was waiting for him, in terror for his safety knowing the large sum he carried, and the perils of the road.

He borrowed a fresh horse (Skylark) from his friend, Squire Brame, and, haying seen that his revolver was properly charged, Broom started homeward. The parting advice of the Squire was—

"When you turn off the pike to-night put Skylark into a run, and give her her head; Don't stop her for man or devil till you're safe home. If anyone tries to stop you, drive her at him and fire. If anything serious happens, let the mare go, and give in. She'll bring the money to me if she can."

"Good night, Squire," I called, ani started down the pike. It was a mile to the Fork, where our Hilbury Road turns north. Skylark, is a fiery beast, powerful in breast and quarter, lithe of limb and flank, a long small head' and ears, quick bright eyes, and a very deer to run. I trotted her. sharply down the pike, she pulling hard. Coming to the Fork, we turned it sharply. I chirruped to her, broke her up, and b -ave her her head. She shot away north like a flight. I just guided her, kept the bit in her mouth, and let her run. Up hill, along the level, down the long decline, through the level meadows and pasture lands, up again breezily, striding, striding—ever the same long, easy, bounding lope.

There was Jason's place now, up on the slope of Kinnel Hill—seven miles more to Nell at Sicklefield. I thought of her Watching for me, anxious enough, I knew. I whistled to the mare. She leaped to it gaily, and we whiled along, down the long mile that skirts round Kinnel Hill and the Elder Swamps, on again north over Harmony Flats, till we struck the hills again at Nine, Mile Roc,k on the Jorom Eoad.

I kept a keen lookout, though I might have saved my pains. It was dark as the pit in that close-grown tunnel of shade. Once out of this gloomy hollow, I should mot fear. There were only two miles of the open highroad beyond, with houses scattered every little way. We tramped along through the hollow; 1 kept the mare up to her best. The long level slipped behind. The woods began to thin and lighten a little. A little further on we struck a slight ascent—the foot of our Hilbury Hills. A minute more and we should be clear of the woods, and safe. I felt the ground steepen under us. Skylark slackened her pace. The road was steep before us; I had ridden her hard, up hill and down. I felt safe now. I didn't care to urge her. She labored up the ascent, breathing quick and hard. A bright glare flashed in my eyes ! A crash in the bushes—the mare shied and plunged. A man's form, dimly seen, was hanging by her bits. I struck my heels in her flanks, drew- my pistol—fired. The mare .was plunging wildly; I was blind with the glare in my eyes—l missed. I felt myself grasped from behind, and drawn heavily backward. I felt the mare going from under me. I kicked at her furiously —flung the pistol at her head as I felL She snorted and plunged, made one great frightened leap high in the air, fixing the fellow that held her heavily into the fence, and shot away up.the hill. As 1 fell, the light glanced one side

from my face, and showed me the man who held me, full and plain. Tall and light-made, with small white hands, pale face, black silky side-beard and moustache keen grey eyes, thin lips, perfect teeth and long hair, glossy and jet black. He was dressed in fine black cloth, linen spotless and unruffled, and a high silk hat. I saw the light glance from his polished boots, and from a diamond ring on his hand. He had a cigar in his mouth. There was no passion or excitement in his face. He looked as cool, as fearless, as devilish, as ever I hope to see the face of man, as he dragged me back and threw me on the ground—held me down by the throat. "Jiber!" he called. "Quick, will you?"

I did not fight. The mare was off with the money. I knew there were other two at hand. I was unarmed. I knew they could quiet me quickly enough. I knew .that that cold, white, cruel face above me would kill me without remorse, if it came to need. I thought of Nell, and lay still. The man called Jiber came crashing out with his dark lantern in his hand. He wore a slouched dask hat, was roughly —altogether a commoner, rougher man j than the other, with a cunning, sneaking | face, written all over in straggling charac-! ters with his proper name of thief. I He lighted an open lantern and set it on a stone. The third robber crawled up out of the bushes and stones where the mnxe had thrown him. The others called him Chisel. He wore a cap a suit of dark-grey coarse cloth. I did not see his face. He plainly studied to hide it—kept it,in the | shadow, or turned away. He seemed younger than either of the others—not stout, but lithe and quick as a cat. It was only a minute's time from the first flash till I was lying quiet on my back in the road, with that white-faced jewelled devil holding me down, and the others kneeling by us. They called him the Parson. They called the rough one, with the brutal face and slouched hat, Jiber, and the other Chisel, as I said. " Chisel," he said —his voice was clear and calm—" Chisel, hold the lantern. Jiber, cock your pistol. Put it to his head. Are you ready ?" " We're ready, parson."

It was Jiber who spoke. The other held the lantern between mj face and his. Jiber cocked his pistol, examined the cap, and put the muzzle close to my head. I felt the cold iron touch my skull. A strong convulsive shiver went through me —shook me from head to foot. I knew there was little danger—that it was not to their interest to peril their precious necks. But I saw the ruffian's villainous face, and I knew that a single twitch of the brutal fellow's hand was all that stood between me and the awful mystery beyond. "If he makes any trouble, Jiber," the Parson said "just blow out his brains." He loosened his hold. The tramp of the flying mare had died away over the hills. I had not five dollars about me. I lay quite still. The Parson searched me thoroughly. He took my pocket-book, took out the money, and threw away the book. His face grew terrible to see when he began to be convinced that I had not bonds about me. He pulled off my boots, examined the lining of my cap. He gave up the search. He turned to Jiber, ..." Could he have thrown away the package P" " Didn't throw away nothin' arter I blinked him, 'cept it was his shooter," answered Jiber, doggedly. The Parson turned to me. " Get up," he said. i He,spoke as he might to a dog-he had j kicked. That woke the devil in me. I

lay still and glared back at him. I saw his perfect teeth set hard between his thin white lips. He took out a pistol, cocked it. "Look here !" he said, " Where is your money ?" I s.t up and gave him stare for stare. " What's that to you ?" One second I thought be would kill me. Tb en he gove, ned h> cnself and turned away. He spoke to Chisel apart; then he turned back to me. " Look here, you what's-his-name," he said, " three miles from here there's a little house, at the fork of Carrom Lane and the sou.h ro?d. There's a little woman in that house to-night; and she's a handsome little woman, and she's all alone." He saw me siiudder. I had forgotten Nell for one moment. He went on—- " I'm going to ask you some questions. If you answer squa e, si right. If not, we. tie you up, carry you into the woods, and luako her a vis : t. Do you understand ?" " I understand," I said. He went on—- " Last Friday night you put ten thousand dollars in Bath and Westbury's safe in Cararaore. You put in more on Monday. You was to have taken it out tonight. Where is it ?" " I haven't seen p, dollar of it since Bath put it into the safe," I answered. I had no'. I counted it over to Bath i when I left it. He made a package of it for me. I saw only the wrapper. Was it, morally, a lie ? Well, as you will. Dr. Johnson held that one might be justified in denying the authorship of Junius, whether he wrote the letters or not.

"You say you did not take it out of their safe to-niglit ?"

it. "XT " xcs. I did not. I took it out of Bath's hand.

(To be concluded in our next.)