CHAPTER XIV.

BLACK MADGE GIVES JUDGMENT.

It was a strange scene upon which the light of a huge camp fire shone

that night, in the mountain retreat of the outlaws.

A stake had been set in the ground, and to this Patsy was tied, so that

all could see him plainly. Somewhat to one side, on a huge rustic chair,

made by one of the men, the queen was seated in state, ready to act as

judge at the trial that was to begin, and Cremation Mike was selected as

prosecuting attorney.

A jury of twelve of the men had been drawn, only it was a foregone

conclusion that they would bring in their verdict according as the queen

should direct.

Handsome acted as master of ceremonies, and around them was gathered the

entire membership of Black Madge's hobo gang--as villainous a looking

crew as might be imagined.

As yet, no one had been appointed to defend Pat, and now Madge raised

one hand, when she was ready to begin the trial, and she announced:

"There is no one who has offered to act as attorney for the prisoner.

This trial will afford you some amusement, my men. We will have a good

time out of it, anyhow, before we hang him. I will appoint counsel for

him."

They were all silent, waiting, and presently she spoke again.

"I will name the old man there, Bill Turner, as counsel for the defense.

Will you defend the man, Turner?"

"I'll try to, madam, though I don't know anything about the case. He may

be guilty for all I know. What is he charged with?"

"With being a spy."

"If you want me to defend him, I'll do my best."

"Go ahead, then. Let the trial begin," she ordered.

The prosecution took up the case; that is, Cremation Mike got upon his

feet and began to make a speech to the jury. He said:

"We've got proof enough that the man is a spy, ain't we, mates? We all

know what happened down there in the swamp, the time that Nick Carter

got among us, and carried away Black Madge almost before our eyes, and

we none the wiser for it. We know how Nick Carter set the cottage afire

after drugging Madge, and how then he fixed up a dummy in one of the

windows, so that we would think that she was burning up. We know that,

don't we, mates?

"And don't we know that there were four men who came to our camp in the

swamp at the same time, and who came together? Wasn't one of that four

Nick Carter himself? And were not two others of that same four Nick

Carter's assistants? And who was the fourth one of that four? Why, it

was that cove there, tied to the stake, and waiting for you to hang him.

"Would he have been in that sort of company if he hadn't been made out

of the same kind of cloth? Didn't he come there with that other outfit?

Didn't we prove--that is, didn't Madge prove that one of the four was

Nick Carter; that another of the four was his assistant, who is called

Chick? And that still another of the four was another assistant, who is

called Ten-Ichi?

"And don't you know that Nick Carter has got still another assistant,

and that his other assistant is named Patsy? Haven't you heard of that?

It is true. And so is this fellow's name Pat--or Patsy. It is all the

same.

"Now, again, didn't they come here together? Didn't Handsome find them

camping in the woods, waiting for a chance to get to our camp, and

didn't this fellow tell him the first one of the bunch that he was

looking for Hobo Harry, the Beggar King--and ain't Hobo Harry and Black

Madge one and the same? I tell you, there ain't any doubt that the man

is a spy, and that he ought to be hanged.

"Now, do you guns remember what happened the night of the fire, the time

when Nick Carter got away with Madge, and took her to jail? I'll remind

you of it. Don't you remember that when we found the other two out, they

were sent to the quicksand pit? I was one of those who helped to throw

them into the quicksand pit. Did you ever hear of anybody's getting out

of that pit alive? I never did until that incident; but I have found out

since that both those assistants, Chick and Ten-Ichi, are alive and

kicking, down in New York, this very day.

"Well, who got 'em out of that quicksand pit, then? Why, this fellow!

That is where he was, and what he was doing while we were fighting the

fire, and don't you forget it! We was all too busy to remember about the

men we had chucked into the sand; but he didn't forget. For why? Because

he was one of them himself, and because he had determined all along to

go to that pit as soon as ever he could, and get them out of it.

"How'd he get 'em out, you ask? I don't know. I only know that he did

get 'em out somehow, for they are out. I know that for certain."

Nick, in the character of Turner, leaped to his feet.

"I object!" he cried out. "This man ain't tryin' this case fair. I don't

know who he is, and I don't keer a cuss; I only know that you app'inted

me to defend him, and I'm a-goin' to do it till you tell me to stop. I

object, ma'am, to the course he is adoptin'. It ain't fair. He's making

a lot of statements the which he ain't got a shadow of proof about. I

don't know anything about that air fire he speaks about, 'ceptin' what

I've heerd down at Calamont. But we ain't got the fire here as a

witness; and we ain't got the quicksand here as a witness; and we ain't

got the two men as he says was saved from it here as witnesses. And

unless he can produce witnesses to testify to what he says about them

air escapes, I move that the hull speech he made be strucken out, your

honor. Let him call his witnesses to the stand, and swear 'em, or swear

at 'em. Let him do suthin, 'cept standing up there and shootin' off his

mouth."

Madge smiled grimly. She was getting more enjoyment out of this affair

than she had anticipated.

"Call your witnesses, Mike," she said.

"I ain't got none, Madge, to swear to what I have said, but every one

here knows it is the solemn truth. I don't need no witnesses. However,

I'll put Handsome on the stand fur a minute, about the way the bunch

arrived at our camp, if you say so."

"I think it would be a good idea. It would be more regular."

"All right, Madge. Handsome, take the stand. Hold up your right hand,

and swear that you'll tell the truth. That's all right. Now, did you

hear what I said about your findin' that outfit in the woods north of

the track?"

"I did."

"Wasn't it the dead-level truth?"

"It was."

"The hull four was there, warn't they?"

"They were."

"And they was all strangers?"

"They were."

"You never seen any one of them afore that time, had you?"

"Never."

"And, later, wasn't it found out that three of 'em were spies?"

"It was."

"And wasn't one of the spies Nick Carter himself?"

"Yes."

"And weren't the other two his assistants?"

"They were."

"Didn't they confess it?"

"They did."

"And weren't they afterward thrown into the quicksand pit to die?"

"They were."

"Did they die there?"

"I don't think they did."

"Don't you know that they escaped?"

"I'm reasonably certain of it."

"How did they escape?"

"I don't know that."

"Isn't it your opinion that this galoot here----"

"I object!" shouted Nick.

"Oh, well," exclaimed Mike, in disgust, "ask him some questions

yourself, then."

"I will. Handsome, when did you first see them four in the woods north

o' the track?"

"Oh, I don't know. Before dark that night."

"Was they together?"

"Part of the time."

"Only part o' the time? What do you mean by that?"

"They didn't come there together."

"Oh, didn't they? Where was you?"

"I was hiding, and watching them."

"So you saw 'em all when they arrived there, did you?"

"Yes."

"Who got there first?"

"This man--Pat."

"Did the others appear to know him?"

"No; but they didn't appear to know each other, either."

"But if they were spies, and you afterward proved that they were, and if

they got there, and found Pat already there, it would be natural that

they should act as if they didn't know each other, wouldn't it, in order

to deceive him?"

"I suppose so."

"Have you ever seen anything suspicious about the prisoner?"

"No; only his disappearance after the fire and the arrest of Madge."

"P'r'aps he kin explain that."

"He can't. He has tried already. You heard him. I don't call that an

explanation, but it is probably the best he can give."

"Would you be afraid to trust him now?"

"Personally? I don't think I would."

"Then, personally, you don't think that he is a spy?"

"No; but I don't _know_ that he isn't."

"That'll do. I don't want to ask you any more questions." He turned to

Cremation Mike. "Have you got any more witnesses?" he asked.

"No," with a grin. "I don't need no more."

"Maybe not. But I've got one witness."

"Oh! Have you. Who is it?"

"I'm going to put the prisoner on the stand."

But Madge was plainly tired of the amusement already. She rose in her

place, and her eyes were flashing darkly.

"We will stop this farce here and now," she said. "It won't do any good,

anyhow. I can see plainly enough that there are some here who believe he

is a spy. I am a good deal of that opinion myself; and as there is a

doubt in my mind, I'll just settle the thing right now. Jury, you can

find the man guilty. That's what he is, probably."

"Guilty," said the jury, with one voice, and grinning.

"Prisoner," continued Madge, "you have got until to-morrow morning, at

nine o'clock, to live. At that time the boys will take you to some

convenient tree, and hang you by the neck until you're dead--and that

settles it."

Things looked dark for Patsy. It was quite evident that Black Madge was

in deadly earnest in what she had said. One life more or less was

absolutely nothing to her, and if there was the breath of a suspicion

against one, it was, from her standpoint, better to put that one out of

the way at once than to run any sort of risk by permitting him to live.

Nor did the hoboes who had gathered there to hear and to witness the

trial hesitate to voice their sentiments about it by loud cheering when

Madge uttered the sentence of death. It would be a hanging, indeed, and

it did not make much difference to them who was hung. It has been said

before that they were much like wild beasts, or dogs, who are without

any quality of compassion.

When Nick walked away from the scene of the trial near the fire, he

found that Handsome was beside him, and then, before either uttered a

word, Madge joined them.

She was smiling as if she were well pleased with her evening's work, and

she said to the detective:

"You did well, Turner. One would suppose that you had at some time been

a lawyer."

"I'd 'a' got the man free if I'd had a fair judge and jury," replied

Nick boldly, stroking the white whiskers he wore.

Madge frowned. Then she laughed aloud.

"I like you for your boldness," she said. "But have a care that you do

not find yourself suddenly in the same predicament, Turner."

"I'd be inclined to shoot myself afore I came to trial, if I should,"

Nick retorted.

They had reached Madge's cabin by this time, and now they mounted to the

porch, and Nick pulled out an old pipe that Turner had given him, filled

it, and lighted it.

The detective was determined in his own mind that before the dawn of

another day he would find some way to save Patsy; but how it was to be

done he had no idea.

He did not know yet what disposition they intended to make of him. For

all he knew they might send him into one of the cabins and lock him up

for the night. But he did know that unless he acted, Patsy would be

murdered at sunrise the following morning, and he did not intend to

permit that to happen.

"Miss Madge," he said, after a pause, during which he had smoked in

silence, "if it is all the same to you, I'd like to know what you intend

to do with me to-night. I'm an old man, and I'm sorter 'customed to

going to bed rayther early, so, if you don't mind, and you'll tell me

where I'm to sleep, I think I'll turn in."

Instead of replying directly to him, Madge turned to Handsome.

"What shall we do with him?" she asked. "You are responsible for his

being here. I think I will turn him over to you."

"All right," said Handsome, rising. "I'll take him to my own cabin.

He'll be safe enough there. I'll be back in a minute, Madge."

Nick followed him across the floor of the little valley to a hut that

was at the opposite side of it, and close to the cliff--and Nick knew at

once, from his recollection of the plan he had studied, that he was

quite near to the entrance to the cavern.

The cabin consisted of only one room, in which two bunks had been

roughly built, and, after lighting a candle, Handsome indicated one of

these, and said:

"You can sleep there, Turner. Turn in when you like. To-morrow we will

explore the caves together."

"Right you are," said Nick, yawning widely. "I shan't need any rocking

this night. My old legs are tired out for sure."

Two minutes after the departure of Handsome, Nick blew out the candle,

and for a time he stretched himself in the bunk, lest Handsome should

return to see that all was right. But it was speedily evident to the

detective that Handsome had no suspicion whatever of him, and had,

therefore, left him to his own devices.

But Nick knew that it could not be very long before the outlaw would

return to seek his own rest and repose, and that he must, therefore,

determine upon what he was to do before he should return.

Ten minutes he lay there, and then he rose slowly and cautiously from

the bunk and crept to the door which had been left open, and peered out.

The fires were still blazing merrily, and many of the men were gathered

around them. Some of the men were playing cards, and the others were

engaged in various ways. At all events, they one and all seemed to have

forgotten his existence, and that was what he chiefly desired.

Nick knew in which cabin Patsy was a prisoner. He could see it from the

doorway where he was standing, almost opposite him at the other side of

the valley. The distance in feet from his own position was about the

distance of a city block--two hundred feet.

The old silver watch, the size of a turnip, which Turner had carried

forty years or more, was in his pocket, and by the light of the stars

Nick managed to see the time--ten o'clock.

"There is no time like the present," he mused to himself, while he

hesitated in the doorway. "If I wait until all is quiet, I will stand

all the more chance of being discovered; and, besides, it won't be long

until Handsome returns here, and after he has come and crawled into his

bunk it will be next to impossible for me to get out of here without

rousing him--unless I should drug him, and that will not do at all.

Handsome is altogether too fly for that. He would know that he had been

drugged.

"Now, if it wasn't for these white whiskers, I could creep around the

edge of the bottom of the cliff to the cabin where Patsy is, without

being noticed; and I dare not take them off----"

He stopped there. There was absolutely no use in conjecturing upon the

"ifs" of the question, and so, after another moment, during which he

studied the lay of the land intently, he slipped noiselessly out at the

door and around behind the cabin, and from there crept on his hands and

knees to the bottom of the cliffs. And there he discovered what he had

been unable to see in the imperfect light. The grass there was quite

tall, where it had not been trampled by the feet of the motley crew that

infested the place, and he found that by lying at full length and

pulling himself slowly along on his stomach he would be able to conceal

himself almost entirely from view.

Nick made that half circle of the small valley, crawling in that way,

and entirely without being discovered; and in that manner he arrived

directly in the rear of the cabin where Patsy was a prisoner.

But here a new difficulty confronted him. There was a guard in front of

the door, and that guard, strangely enough, was Cremation Mike.

The cabin in which Patsy was a prisoner was built of roughly hewn logs,

the crevices and chinks being stopped with mud and clay. The ground

beneath it was hard--rocky, in fact; so there was no possibility of

digging under the logs without tools to do it, and even then it would

have taken too much time to accomplish it.

Nick turned his attention to Cremation Mike. He was seated upon a

convenient stump, smoking a short pipe. His back was toward the door of

the cabin, and he was about ten feet from it. The door itself had been

fastened by passing a freshly cut sapling across its front, and slipping

either end of it into rustic slots that had been hastily fashioned for

the purpose.

It was plain that there was only one way to get Patsy outside of that

cabin, and that was to overcome Cremation Mike; and, having determined

upon this, Nick crept forward as silently as a shadow, and so rounded

the corner of the cabin, and presently came up half standing, directly

behind the unsuspecting outlaw.

Nick did not wish to kill the man, but he did want to knock him out so

effectually that he could not interfere in what was to follow, and

therefore he had picked up a piece of round, smooth stone, which he had

wrapped in his handkerchief.

And now, with this improvised weapon, he struck Cremation Mike sharply

on the back of his head, with the result that Mike pitched forward, and

would have fallen to the ground had not Nick managed to catch him. Then

he laid him down gently upon the ground, and turning swiftly, opened the

door of the cabin.

"Quick, Patsy!" he called in a sharp whisper. "It is I. Nick. Come."

Patsy, who had not been bound, it seemed, leaped to the door with a low

exclamation of surprise and pleasure.

"Bully, Nick," he whispered. "I thought it was all up with me that time.

And do you know, it never once occurred to me that the old man might be

you. The disguise is perfect."

"Come," said Nick. "There is no time for words now. Follow me, and do

exactly as I do. I want to get back to my own sleeping place before my

absence is discovered, if it is possible to do so. But, first, is there

any sort of a chair or stool inside that cabin?"

"Yes. A stool."

"Bring it out, if you know where to put your hand upon it."

Patsy brought it in a twinkling, and, placing it against the stump, Nick

propped the senseless form of Mike upon it, so that from the front it

appeared as if he were seated there quite naturally.

"He will come around presently," said Patsy, "and miss me."

"Let him. That is what I want him to do," replied Nick. "Come on, now."

He dropped upon his knees again, and, with Patsy following, they crept

around through the grass again along the edge of the cliff, and at last

reached the cabin from which the detective had started.

But he did not stop here. He made at once for the entrance to the

cavern, which was near at hand, and passed inside, with Patsy following

closely behind him; and then with his electric flash light, he led the

way along the corridor of the cave--for it was his object to find that

hiding place to which Turner had directed him in case he found it

necessary to hide.

"Keep to the right always in that cave, no matter which way you are

going," Turner had told him with emphasis, and remembering that now,

while he wondered if, after all, there were two corridors to the cavern,

he followed the rule, and almost on a run--for the passage was quite

smooth before them--he led the way through.

They came at last to the bowlder to which Turner had referred, and Nick

removed the small stone from beneath it. And then he pushed upon it as

Turner had directed, with the result that the rock swung open before

them, leaving an aperture through which they could easily pass.

But Nick did not enter. Instead he thrust a candle and a box of matches

into Patsy's grasp, and said to him:

"Remain here until I come for you, even if you get hungry. I don't know

any more about what is ahead of you than you do. I only know that you

will be safe there. We have no time to talk now. I will shut this rock

behind you."

Then he turned and sped away.