The Oakdale Affair [36]
to view the bloody scratch of The Oskaloosa Kid's bullet. "On de level, Burton, we wern't in on it. Dis guy was at dat Squibbs' place wen we pulls in dere outen de rain. He has a pocket full o' kale an' sparklers an' tings, and he goes fer to shoot me up wen I tries to get away."
"Who was he?" asked Burton.
"He called hisself de Oskaloosa Kid," replied Charlie. "A guy called Bridge was wid him. You know him?"
"I've heard of him; but he's straight," replied Burton. "Who was the skirt?"
"I dunno," said Charlie; "but she was gassin' 'bout her pals croakin' a guy an' trunin' 'im outten a gas wagon, an' dis Oskaloosa Kid he croaks some old guy in Oak- dale las' night. Mebby he ain't a bad 'un though!"
"Where are they now?" asked Burton.
"We got away from 'em at the Squibbs' place this mornin'," said Charlie.
"Well," said Burton, "you boes come along with me. If you ain't done nothing the worst you'll get'll be three squares and a place to sleep for a few days. I want you where I can lay my hands on you when I need a couple of witnesses," and he herded them over the fence and into the machine. As he himself was about to step in he felt suddenly of his breast pocket.
"What's the matter?" asked one of his companions.
"I've lost my note book," replied Burton; "it must have dropped out of my pocket when I jumped the fence. Just wait a minute while I go look for it," and be returned to the fence, vaulted it and disappeared be- hind the bushes.
It was fully five minutes before he returned but when he did there was a look of satisfaction on his face.
"Find it?" asked his principal lieutenant.
"Yep," replied Burton. "I wouldn't have lost it for anything."
Bridge and his companions had made their way along the wooded path for perhaps a quarter of a mile when the man halted and drew back behind the foliage of a flowering bush. With raised finger he motioned the oth- ers to silence and then pointed through the branches ahead. The boy and the girl, tense with excitement, peered past the man into a clearing in which stood a log shack, mud plastered; but it was not the hovel which held their mute attention--it was rather the figure of a girl, bare headed and bare footed, who toiled stub- bornly with an old spade at a long, narrow excavation.
All too suggestive in itself was the shape of the hole the girl was digging; there was no need of the silent proof of its purpose which lay beside her to tell the watchers that she worked alone in the midst of the for- est solitude upon a human grave. The thing wrapped in an old quilt lay silently waiting for the making of its last bed.
And as the three watched her other eyes watched them and the digging girl--wide, awestruck eyes, filled with a great terror, yet now and again half closing in the shrewd expression of cunning that is a hall mark of crafty ignorance.
And as they watched, their over-wrought nerves sud- denly shuddered to the grewsome clanking of a chain from the dark interior of the hovel.
The youth, holding tight to Bridge's sleeve, strove to pull him away.
"Let's go back," he whispered in a voice that trembled so that he could scarce control it.
"Yes, please," urged the girl. "Here is another path leading toward the north. We must be close to a road. Let's get away from here."
The digger paused and raised her head, listening, as though she had caught the faint, whispered note of hu- man voices. She was a black haired girl of nineteen or twenty, dressed in a motley of flowered calico and silk, with strings of gold and silver coins looped around her olive neck. Her bare arms were encircled by bracelets-- some cheap and gaudy, others well wrought from gold and silver. From her ears depended ornaments fash- ioned from gold coins. Her whole appearance was bar- baric, her occupation cast a sinister haze about her; and yet her eyes seemed fashioned for laughter and her lips for kissing.
The watchers remained motionless as the girl peered first in one direction and then in another, seeking an ex- planation
"Who was he?" asked Burton.
"He called hisself de Oskaloosa Kid," replied Charlie. "A guy called Bridge was wid him. You know him?"
"I've heard of him; but he's straight," replied Burton. "Who was the skirt?"
"I dunno," said Charlie; "but she was gassin' 'bout her pals croakin' a guy an' trunin' 'im outten a gas wagon, an' dis Oskaloosa Kid he croaks some old guy in Oak- dale las' night. Mebby he ain't a bad 'un though!"
"Where are they now?" asked Burton.
"We got away from 'em at the Squibbs' place this mornin'," said Charlie.
"Well," said Burton, "you boes come along with me. If you ain't done nothing the worst you'll get'll be three squares and a place to sleep for a few days. I want you where I can lay my hands on you when I need a couple of witnesses," and he herded them over the fence and into the machine. As he himself was about to step in he felt suddenly of his breast pocket.
"What's the matter?" asked one of his companions.
"I've lost my note book," replied Burton; "it must have dropped out of my pocket when I jumped the fence. Just wait a minute while I go look for it," and be returned to the fence, vaulted it and disappeared be- hind the bushes.
It was fully five minutes before he returned but when he did there was a look of satisfaction on his face.
"Find it?" asked his principal lieutenant.
"Yep," replied Burton. "I wouldn't have lost it for anything."
Bridge and his companions had made their way along the wooded path for perhaps a quarter of a mile when the man halted and drew back behind the foliage of a flowering bush. With raised finger he motioned the oth- ers to silence and then pointed through the branches ahead. The boy and the girl, tense with excitement, peered past the man into a clearing in which stood a log shack, mud plastered; but it was not the hovel which held their mute attention--it was rather the figure of a girl, bare headed and bare footed, who toiled stub- bornly with an old spade at a long, narrow excavation.
All too suggestive in itself was the shape of the hole the girl was digging; there was no need of the silent proof of its purpose which lay beside her to tell the watchers that she worked alone in the midst of the for- est solitude upon a human grave. The thing wrapped in an old quilt lay silently waiting for the making of its last bed.
And as the three watched her other eyes watched them and the digging girl--wide, awestruck eyes, filled with a great terror, yet now and again half closing in the shrewd expression of cunning that is a hall mark of crafty ignorance.
And as they watched, their over-wrought nerves sud- denly shuddered to the grewsome clanking of a chain from the dark interior of the hovel.
The youth, holding tight to Bridge's sleeve, strove to pull him away.
"Let's go back," he whispered in a voice that trembled so that he could scarce control it.
"Yes, please," urged the girl. "Here is another path leading toward the north. We must be close to a road. Let's get away from here."
The digger paused and raised her head, listening, as though she had caught the faint, whispered note of hu- man voices. She was a black haired girl of nineteen or twenty, dressed in a motley of flowered calico and silk, with strings of gold and silver coins looped around her olive neck. Her bare arms were encircled by bracelets-- some cheap and gaudy, others well wrought from gold and silver. From her ears depended ornaments fash- ioned from gold coins. Her whole appearance was bar- baric, her occupation cast a sinister haze about her; and yet her eyes seemed fashioned for laughter and her lips for kissing.
The watchers remained motionless as the girl peered first in one direction and then in another, seeking an ex- planation