Sube Cane Part 19

CHAPTER XII

THE FUGITIVES

Sat.u.r.day pa.s.sed quietly. No captures were made, no prospects sighted.

But on Sunday Gizzard began to hear things. Certain inquisitive boys in his Sunday School cla.s.s interrogated him as to the progress of the new business, and were especially curious to know what disposition was to be made of the captives. Gizzard dismissed them as prying ninnies, and more than thrice denied the existence of the enterprise.

After Sunday School Sube proceeded homeward a few laggard steps, when his attention was arrested by a most unusual anthill in a crack near the center of the sidewalk. He paused to investigate it, for he was greatly interested in ants, especially on Sunday. On several prior occasions he had pointed out to other naturalists, notably Nancy Guilford, certain peculiarities he had observed in the industrious insects. Pleasant discussions had been almost sure to follow. But to-day something was amiss. Nancy swept by without so much as a glance at the young naturalist. His first impulse was to call out to her, but the peculiar way she had brushed aside her skirts as she pa.s.sed him counseled silence. So he pretended that he had not noticed her, and for several minutes confined his attention to the anthill. Then he crossed the street and pa.s.sed along the other side utterly oblivious of all the world.

These things had not escaped Gizzard's observation, but he said in his heart, "It means nothing. It is the way of woman." However, on the morrow when he heard Nancy shout across the street to a companion that Sube Cane had stolen her new kitten and that her father was going to have him arrested, they took on a new and horrible significance.

He was irresistibly drawn to Cane's barn, where he found Sube peacefully seated among his yowling charges.

"Oh! You're still here, are you?" Gizzard asked nervously.

"Sure. Where'd you think I'd be?"

"Well, I didn't know. You can never tell! A feller never knows what's goin' to happen to 'im!" was the cryptic response.

Sube looked at Gizzard with a new found interest. "Say, what's the matter of you? You're as white as a sheet!"

"I ain't feelin' very good," Gizzard admitted. "I feel kind o' weak right here." He placed a hand over his stomach as he added, "Guess I'd better be goin' home."

"Better not!" cautioned Sube. "Your mother'll give you a dose of castor oil!"

"No she won't," muttered Gizzard weakly. "I'm goin' anyhow."

"Seen any strays to-day?" Sube called after him as he went out of the door.

"Nope. S'long!"

"S'long!"

Twice that afternoon Gizzard returned, and each time went away complaining of weakness in his middle. Why he did not tell Sube what he had heard can never be explained, for Gizzard did not know himself.

Perhaps he did not wish to have his partner unduly alarmed by rumors that might turn out to be false. But when he came rushing into the barn after supper, he told what had been on his mind, without further delay.

"Hey, Sube!" he cried in a tremulous voice. "You gotta get out of here!

He jus' went in your house lookin' for you!"

He caught Sube by the arm and dragged him towards the door.

"What I got to get out for?" asked the amazed cat-catcher.

"Dan Lan-non!" enunciated the terrified informant. "He's goin'ta _'rest_ you!"

At the name of this grim officer of the law all felons trembled. Sube was no exception to the rule. He grew deathly pale. He had that empty feeling in his interior that Gizzard had complained of. He vaguely wondered what crime he had committed, but did not stop to inquire, as Gizzard dragged him feverishly towards the back door of the barn. Once outside he seemed to recover possession of his senses and a.s.sumed the lead. He conducted Gizzard to the midst of a clump of blackberry bushes in the rear of a deserted house not far away, and there Gizzard unburdened his soul.

Sube was scared. He was petrified. But he was faithful to the last. He could not believe that Nancy had betrayed him.

"It must of been that ol' M's Rude," he kept repeating. "It _must_ of been! It couldn't of been--anybody else! Now I wonder if that big cat with the long hair belonged to her."

"Wonder? Ain't you _sure_?"

"Why, it looked like hers, but--"

"It wasn't M's Rude," declared Gizzard. "It was Nancy Guilford! Why, didn't she say she was goin' to have you--!"

"Girls _say_ lots of things they don't mean."

"Yes, but she said it, and then it happened!"

"I don't care what she _said_! I tell you it was that ol' M's Rude!"

Sube burst out angrily. Then modifying his tone he continued: "But that don't cut any ice anyway! What I want to know is, what we goin' to do?"

Then followed a long discussion of the possibilities, and, as neither of the fugitives was willing to be taken alive, there seemed to be only one alternative: flight. Alaska was discarded as too cold, and South America as too hot. That portion of Texas nearest to the Mexican line seemed to offer the most tempting prospects for a "career," and Sube had begun to take a bit of grim comfort in the pangs that he felt sure Nancy Guilford must endure as she came to realize that she had made a desperado of him, when an idea flashed into his brain with the brilliancy of a searchlight.

"Say!" he gasped. "Why couldn't we sneak back there and let the derned ol' cats out! Then we'd lay low till they had time to get back to their homes--!"

"You're on!" cried Gizzard.

They made their way out of their retreat, unmindful of the scratching thorns, and cautiously retraced their steps to the barn.

"I never heard 'em so quiet before," whispered Sube. "S'pose they're all asleep?"

"Prob'ly," replied Gizzard. "It must be awful late."

They lighted a stump of a candle that had been hidden away for just such emergencies, and ascended the dusty stairs. Horror seized them as they found their place of business in wildest disorder, with the cages upset and broken open and every cat gone. Through the flickering gloom they stared at each other dumbfounded, bewildered; their last faint glimmer of hope gone.

"Where do you s'pose--" faltered Gizzard, but he was unable to say more.

"Dan must've got 'em for proof!" groaned Sube.

"What'll we _ever_ do!" snivelled Gizzard.

"Now I s'pose we _got_ to beat it!" replied Sube in a voice husky with emotion.

A long hoa.r.s.e whistle startled them.

"A freight train!" cried Sube. "If it stops, we'll jump it!"

They tumbled down the stairs, blew out the candle, and restoring it to its hiding place, started on a run for the railroad station some three blocks away. As they pa.s.sed under an electric light on the corner they heard a shout behind them; but instead of stopping to investigate they put on more speed. After a little Gizzard looked back and caught a glimpse of their pursuer.

"It's Dan Lannon all right!" he panted. "And he's after us!"

The fugitives pressed forward to the very limit of their speed. Suddenly with a roar and a rumble the freight train pulled into the station and came to a stop, effectively blocking the street along which they were going. To clamber aboard at that point was not to be thought of, for an electric light at the crossing made the entire neighborhood as light as day. A flank movement was inevitable.

Sube dashed to the right, calling to Gizzard to follow. But Gizzard had already started towards the left. By the time the boys discovered their mistake the enemy was already threatening their lines of communication; and so they were separated.