The First Capture Part 11

"That Caleb beats all the boys in the world that I ever heard of. What has he been doing now?"

Enoch replied that he did not know. Caleb had come over to his house to borrow something of his mother, and he had never gone home with it. His mother was at Mrs. Crosby's now looking for him.

"Beyond a doubt he is in jail," said Enoch. "You know he did not pay his fine to-day, and I will bet that that magistrate has arrested him and locked him up."

"Bussin' on it, I believe you are right," said Zeke, hurrying on his clothes. "If he is in jail I wager that he will come out. Come in."

"I guess I had better stay out here. You will have to take a lantern with you, for it is awful dark."

In much less time than it takes to tell it Zeke presented himself at the door arrayed in his usual costume, but he had something else that he did not carry in the daytime. It was a huge club, and he had fashioned it after a style of his own. The club looked too heavy for one man to manage, but Zeke handled it as though it were a walking-cane. In his left hand he carried a lantern which he handed to Enoch.

"You don't think there is going to be a fight, do you?" asked the boy.

"If you do I had better go home and get my flint-lock."

"There is no knowing what will happen," returned Zeke, with a peculiar twist of his head. "Suppose he is in jail, and the magistrate has brought up some of them fellows from the Margaretta to act as his guards. I don't know that he has done it, but it is well enough to be on the safe side. Now let us go and see the place where Caleb was arrested.

We may be able to find out something from that."

"Now, Zeke, do be careful of yourself," said his wife, who was sitting up in bed.

"You never heard of Zeke being captured yet, did you?" asked Zeke.

"Well, you never will."

Enoch, being provided with the lantern, took the lead down the sidewalk toward the place where Caleb had struggled so hard for his freedom.

Almost the first thing he saw was the bucket which had contained the yeast. It was thrown up on one side near the fence, and was jammed in the side; but it was empty.

"Here is the place where he was caught," said Zeke, taking the lantern from Enoch's hand and carefully examining all the footprints in the soft earth. "Now, are these constables' tracks or Tories' tracks?"

Enoch did not know. He was all in the dark in more respects than one, and he forbore to express an opinion.

"Now, we will visit the jail," said Zeke, starting off with one of his long strides which compelled Enoch to strike a trot in order to keep up with him. "If he is in there he will come out."

"Where are you going to get some help?" asked Enoch.

"I do not want help. That old Tory knows me, and as soon as he knows my voice he will open that door. Now you mind what I tell you."

In a few minutes they ascended the steps that led to the jail, but all was dark inside. Zeke lifted his club and pounded loudly upon the door.

It seemed as if the echoes would arouse everybody within hearing. An answer came from the inside, but it was not such a one that suited Zeke.

"Go away from there!" shouted a voice that was full of rage. "You are not a constable, I know, for they do not make such a noise when they come here. Go away, now, or I will shut you up."

So soon as this answer was received the club fell heavier than before; whereupon there was the creaking of a bed and the sound of bare footsteps on the other side of the door.

"Who's that on the outside there?" came the inquiry this time; and it was not nearly so full of rage as it was before.

"It is me," answered Zeke. "And if you want to see this door stay where it is, you will open it up pretty quick."

"Oh, Zeke, is it you? I'll open the door directly. Why didn't you tell me who you were?"

"Didn't I say he would open the door?" said Zeke, hitting Enoch in the ribs with his elbow. "He knows me."

In process of time the door came open and Zeke and Enoch stepped inside of it. The Tory was frightened, and he grew more so as he glanced at the club which Zeke carried in his hand.

"What do you want here at this time of night?" asked the jailer. "I haven't got but one with me here to-night----"

"Give me your keys," interrupted Zeke.

"Now, Zeke, is not that going pretty far?" asked the Tory, who was really frightened now. "You know I haven't any right to give you my keys----."

"Give me your keys," said Zeke in a louder tone, at the same time seizing the jailer by the collar with one hand while with the other he raised his club and held it over his head. "This is the last time I shall ask you."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Give me your keys," said Zeke.]

"Of course if you are bound to have the keys there they are," said the jailer, going to his bed and feeling under his pillow. "You will remember that I give them up to you because I had to----"

"That is all right," said Zeke, who had kept close by his side. He threw the pillow off as the jailer felt under it, and there lay two heavy horse pistols, of which he took immediate possession. "I will leave these things on the other side of the way and you can easily get them after we go away," he added, as he pushed the weapons into his pocket.

"Now let us see if our man is in here."

"Who are you looking for?" asked the jailer. "There is not but one man in here, and he was put in for being drunk."

Zeke did not delay his search for what the jailer had said. He might be telling him the truth and then again he might not. He found the key which gave entrance into the cell-room, the doors of which were all open with one exception, and that one confined a prisoner. Enoch and Zeke were so surprised that they could not express themselves in fitting language. They looked at each other for a minute or two and then Zeke said:

"Bussin' on it, Caleb is not here."

"Are you speaking of Caleb Young?" asked the jailer. "I have not seen him. I did hear that he would be here to keep company with me to-night because he could not pay his fine which the magistrate imposed upon him, but I have not seen him or the constable either."

"Well, he is gone, if it will do you any good to know it," said Zeke, thoroughly at his wits' end. "And now the next question is, Where is he?

I got that boy in a sc.r.a.pe, and I am bound to find him and give him up to his mother before I quit looking for him. Enoch, where is he?"

"Have you got through with your business here?" asked Enoch in reply.

"If you have let us go. I will tell you what I think of Caleb's disappearance when we get outside."

CHAPTER XI.

A PLAN THAT DID NOT WORK.

"Good riddance to bad rubbish," soliloquized the jailer, as he stood in his door and saw Enoch and Zeke cross the way and place his horse pistols close against the fence. "I kinder reckoned on seeing Caleb here to-night, but I am glad he didn't come. That magistrate has arrested him for not paying his fine, but where is he? Go your way," he added, shaking his fist at Zeke, who was hurrying down the street engaged in an earnest conversation with his young friend. "It won't be long before I will have you here, too."

"Now, Enoch, where is he?" said Zeke, after he had placed the horse pistols where their owner could easily find them. "He is not in jail; we know that for a fact."

"No, but he is shut up all the same," replied Enoch. "If we don't find him to-morrow the next thing we shall hear of him he will be safe in New York."

"Bussin' on it, what do you mean?" inquired Zeke, profoundly astonished.

"Who is going to take him to New York?"