Bridge and The Oskaloosa Kid were hustled into the
single cell of the Payson jail. A bench ran along two
sides of the room. A single barred window let out upon
the yard behind the structure. The floor was littered
with papers, and a single electric light bulb relieved the
gloom of the unsavory place.
The Oskaloosa Kid sank, trembling, upon one of the
hard benches. Bridge rolled a cigaret. At his feet lay a
copy of that day's Oakdale Tribune. A face looked up
from the printed page into his eyes. He stooped and
took up the paper. The entire front page was devoted to
the various crimes which had turned peaceful Oakdale
inside out in the past twenty four hours. There were
reproductions of photographs of John Baggs, Reginald
Paynter, Abigail Prim, Jonas Prim, and his wife, with a
large cut of the Prim mansion, a star marking the bou-
doir of the missing daughter of the house. As Bridge
examined the various pictures an odd expression en-
tered his eyes--it was a mixture of puzzlement, incredu-
lity, and relief. Tossing the paper aside he turned to-
ward The Oskaloosa Kid. They could hear the sullen
murmur of the crowd in front of the jail.
"If they get any booze," he said, "they'll take us out
of here and string us up. If you've got anything to say
that would tend to convince them that you did not kill
Paynter I advise you to call the guard and tell the truth,
for if the mob gets us they might hang us first and listen
afterward--a mob is not a nice thing. Beppo was an angel
of mercy by comparison with one."
"Could you convince them that you had no part in
any of these crimes?" asked the boy. "I know that you
didn't; but could you prove it to a mob?"
"No," said Bridge. "A mob is not open to reason. If
they get us I shall hang, unless someone happens to
think of the stake."
The boy shuddered.
"Will you tell the truth?" asked the man.
"I will go with you," replied the boy, "and take what-
ever you get."
"Why?" asked Bridge.
The youth flushed; but did not reply, for there came
from without a sudden augmentation of the murmur-
ings of the mob. Automobile horns screamed out upon
the night. The two heard the chugging of motors, the
sound of brakes and the greetings of new arrivals. The
reinforcements had arrived from Oakdale.
A guard came to the grating of the cell door. "The
bunch from Oakdale has come," he said. "If I was you
I'd say my prayers. Old man Baggs is dead. No one
never had no use for him while he was alive, but the
whole county's het up now over his death. They're
bound to get you, an' while I didn't count 'em all I
seen about a score o' ropes. They mean business."
Bridge turned toward the boy. "Tell the truth," he
said. "Tell this man."
The youth shook his head. "I have killed no one," said
he. "That is the truth. Neither have you; but if they
are going to murder you they can murder me too, for
you stuck to me when you didn't have to; and I am go-
ing to stick to you, and there is some excuse for me be-
cause I have a reason--the best reason in the world."
"What is it?" asked Bridge.
The Oskaloosa Kid shook his head, and once more he
flushed.
"Well," said the guard, with a shrug of his shoulders,
"it's up to you guys. If you want to hang, why hang and
be damned. We'll do the best we can 'cause it's our duty
to protect you; but I guess at that hangin's too good fer
you, an' we ain't a-goin' to get shot keepin' you from get-
tin' it."
"Thanks," said Bridge.
The uproar in front of the jail had risen in volume
until it was difficult for those within to make themselves
heard without shouting. The Kid sat upon his bench and
buried his face in his hands. Bridge rolled another smoke.
The sound of a shot came from the front room of the
jail, immediately followed by a roar of rage from the
mob and a deafening hammering upon the jail door.
A moment later this turned to the heavy booming of a
battering ram and the splintering of wood. The frail
structure quivered beneath the onslaught.
The prisoners could hear the voices of the guards
and the jailer raised in an attempt to reason with the
unreasoning mob, and then came a final crash and the
stamping of many feet upon the floor of the outer
room.
Burton's car drew up before the doorway of the Prim
home in Oakdale. The great detective alighted and
handed down the missing Abigail. Then be directed that
the other prisoners be taken to the county jail.
Jonas Prim and his wife awaited Abigail's return in
the spacious living room at the left of the reception
hall. The banker was nervous. He paced to and fro the
length of the room. Mrs. Prim fanned herself vigorously
although the heat was far from excessive. They heard
the motor draw up in front of the house; but they did
not venture into the reception hall or out upon the
porch, though for different reasons. Mrs. Prim because
it would not have been PROPER; Jonas because he could
not trust himself to meet his daughter, whom he had
thought lost, in the presence of a possible crowd which
might have accompanied her home.
They heard the closing of an automobile door and
the sound of foot steps coming up the concrete walk.
The Prim butler was already waiting at the doorway
with the doors swung wide to receive the prodigal
daughter of the house of Prim. A slender figure with
bowed head ascended the steps, guided and assisted by
the detective. She did not look up at the expectant but-
ler waiting for the greeting he was sure Abigail would
have for him; but passed on into the reception hall.
"Your father and Mrs. Prim are in the living room,"
announced the butler, stepping forward to draw aside
the heavy hangings.
The girl, followed by Burton, entered the brightly
lighted room.
"I am very glad, Mr. Prim," said the latter, "to be
able to return Miss Prim to you so quickly and un-
harmed."
The girl looked up into the face of Jonas Prim. The
man voiced an exclamation of surprise and annoyance.
Mrs. Prim gasped and sank upon a sofa. The girl stood
motionless, her eyes once again bent upon the floor.
"What's the matter?" asked Burton. "What's wrong?"
"Everything is wrong, Mr. Burton," Jonas Prim's voice
was crisp and cold. "This is not my daughter."
Burton looked his surprise and discomfiture. He turned
upon the girl.
"What do you mean--" he started; but she interrupted
him.
"You are going to ask what I mean by posing as Miss
Prim," she said. "I have never said that I was Miss Prim.
You took the word of an ignorant little farmer's boy and
I did not deny it when I found that you intended bring-
ing me to Mr. Prim, for I wanted to see him. I wanted
to ask him to help me. I have never met him, or his
daughter either; but my father and Mr. Prim have been
friends for many years.
"I am Hettie Penning," she continued, addressing
Jonas Prim. "My father has always admired you and
from what he has told me I knew that you would listen
to me and do what you could for me. I could not bear
to think of going to the jail in Payson, for Payson is my
home. Everybody would have known me. It would have
killed my father. Then I wanted to come myself and
tell you, after reading the reports and insinuations in the
paper, that your daughter was not with Reginald Payn-
ter when he was killed. She had no knowledge of the
crime and as far as I know may not have yet. I have
not seen her and do not know where she is; but I was
present when Mr. Paynter was killed. I have known him
for years and have often driven with him. He stopped
me yesterday afternoon on the street in Payson and
talked with me. He was sitting in a car in front of the
bank. After we had talked a few minutes two men came
out of the bank. Mr. Paynter introduced them to me. He
said they were driving out into the country to look at a
piece of property--a farm somewhere north of Oakdale
--and that on the way back they were going to stop at
The Crossroads Inn for dinner. He asked me if I
wouldn't like to come along--he kind of dared me to,
because, as you know, The Crossroads has rather a bad
reputation.
"Father had gone to Toledo on business, and very
foolishly I took his dare. Everything went all right un-
til after we left The Inn, although one of the men--his
companion referred to him once or twice as The Oska-
loosa Kid--attempted to be too familiar with me. Mr.
Paynter prevented him on each occasion, and they had
words over me; but after we left the inn, where they
had all drunk a great deal, this man renewed his atten-
tions and Mr. Paynter struck him. Both of them were
drunk. After that it all happened so quickly that I could
scarcely follow it. The man called Oskaloosa Kid drew
a revolver but did not fire, instead he seized Mr. Paynter
by the coat and whirled him around and then he struck
him an awful blow behind the ear with the butt of the
weapon.
"After that the other two men seemed quite sobered.
They discussed what would be the best thing to do and
at last decided to throw Mr. Paynter's body out of the
machine, for it was quite evident that he was dead. First
they rifled his pockets, and joked as they did it, one of
them saying that they weren't getting as much as they
had planned on; but that a little was better than noth-
ing. They took his watch, jewelry, and a large roll of
bills. We passed around the east side of Oakdale and
came back into the Toledo road. A little way out of town
they turned the machine around and ran back for about
half a mile; then they turned about a second time. I
don't know why they did this. They threw the body out
while the machine was moving rapidly; but I was so
frightened that I can't say whether it was before or after
they turned about the second time.
"In front of the old Squibbs place they shot at me and
threw me out; but the bullet missed me. I have not seen
them since and do not know where they went. I am
ready and willing to aid in their conviction; but, please
Mr. Prim, won't you keep me from being sent back to
Payson or to jail. I have done nothing criminal and I
won't run away."
"How about the robbery of Miss Prim's room and the
murder of Old Man Baggs?" asked Burton. "Did they
pull both of those off before they killed Paynter or af-
ter?"
"They had nothing to do with either unless they did
them after they threw me out of the car, which must
have been long after midnight," replied the girl.
"And the rest of the gang, those that were arrested
with you," continued the detective, "how about them?
All angels, I suppose."
"There was only Bridge and the boy they called The
Oskaloosa Kid, though he isn't the same one that mur-
dered poor Mr. Paynter, and the Gypsy girl, Giova,
that were with me. The others were tramps who came
into the old mill and attacked us while we were asleep.
I don't know who they were. The girl could have had
nothing to do with any of the crimes. We came upon
her this morning burying her father in the woods back
of the Squibbs' place. The man died of epilepsy last
night. Bridge and the boy were taking refuge from the
storm at the Squibbs place when I was thrown from
the car. They heard the shot and came to my rescue. I
am sure they had nothing to do with--with--" she hesi-
tated.
"Tell the truth," commanded Burton. "It will go hard
with you if you don't. What made you hesitate? You
know something about those two--now out with it."
"The boy robbed Mr. Prim's home--I saw some of
the money and jewelry--but Bridge was not with him.
They just happened to meet by accident during the
storm and came to the Squibbs place together. They
were kind to me, and I hate to tell anything that would
get the boy in trouble. That is the reason I hesitated.
He seemed such a nice boy! It is hard to believe that
he is a criminal, and Bridge was always so considerate.
He looks like a tramp; but he talks and acts like a gentle-
man."
The telephone bell rang briskly, and a moment later
the butler stepped into the room to say that Mr. Burton
was wanted on the wire. He returned to the living
room in two or three minutes.
"That clears up some of it," he said as be entered.
"The sheriff just had a message from the chief at Toledo
saying that The Oskaloosa Kid is dying in a hospital
there following an automobile accident. He knew he
was done for and sent for the police. When they came he
told them he had killed a man by the name of Paynter
at Oakdale last night and the chief called up to ask
what we knew about it. The Kid confessed to clear his
pal who was only slightly injured in the smash-up. His
story corroborates Miss Penning's in every detail, he also
said that after killing Paynter he had shot a girl witness
and thrown her from the car to prevent her squealing."
Once again the telephone bell rang, long and insist-
ently. The butler almost ran into the room. "Payson
wants you, sir," he cried to Burton, "in a hurry, sir, it's a
matter of life and death, sir!"
Burton sprang to the phone. When he left it he only
stopped at the doorway of the living room long enough
to call in: "A mob has the two prisoners at Payson and
are about to lynch them, and, my God, they're innocent.
We all know now who killed Paynter and I have known
since morning who murdered Baggs, and it wasn't
either of those men; but they've found Miss Prim's jew-
elry on the fellow called Bridge and they've gone
crazy--they say he murdered her and the young one
did for Paynter. I'm going to Payson," and dashed from
the house.
"Wait," cried Jonas Prim, "I'm going with you," and
without waiting to find a hat he ran quickly after the de-
tective. Once in the car he leaned forward urging the
driver to greater speed.
"God in heaven!" he almost cried, "the fools are go-
ing to kill the only man who can tell me anything about
Abigail."
o o o
With oaths and threats the mob, brainless and heart-
less, cowardly, bestial, filled with the lust for blood,
pushed and jammed into the narrow corridor before
the cell door where the two prisoners awaited their
fate. The single guard was brushed away. A dozen
men wielding three railroad ties battered upon the grat-
ing of the door, swinging the ties far back and then in
unison bringing them heavily forward against the puny
iron.
Bridge spoke to them once. "What are you going to do
with us?" he asked.
"We're goin' to hang you higher 'n' Haman, you
damned kidnappers an' murderers," yelled a man in the
crowd.
"Why don't you give us a chance?" asked Bridge in an
even tone, unaltered by fear or excitement. "You've
nothing on us. As a matter of fact we are both inno-
cent--"
"Oh, shut your damned mouth," interrupted another
of the crowd.
Bridge shrugged his shoulders and turned toward the
youth who stood very white but very straight in a far
corner of the cell. The man noticed the bulging pock-
ets of the ill fitting coat; and, for the first time that
night, his heart stood still in the face of fear; but not for
himself.
He crossed to the youth's side and put his arm around
the slender figure. "There's no use arguing with them,"
he said. "They've made up their minds, or what they
think are minds, that we're guilty; but principally they're
out for a sensation. They want to see something die,
and we're it. I doubt if anything could stop them now;
they'd think we'd cheated them if we suddenly proved
beyond doubt that we were innocent."
The boy pressed close to the man. "God help me to be
brave," he said, "as brave as you are. We'll go together,
Bridge, and on the other side you'll learn something
that'll surprise you. I believe there is 'another side,'
don't you, Bridge?"
"I've never thought much about it," said Bridge; "but
at a time like this I rather hope so--I'd like to come back
and haunt this bunch of rat brained rubes."
His arm slipped down the other's coat and his hand
passed quickly behind the boy from one side to the
other; then the door gave and the leaders of the mob
were upon them. A gawky farmer seized the boy and
struck him cruelly across the mouth. It was Jeb Case.
"You beast!" cried Bridge. "Can't you see that that--
that's--only a child? If I don't live long enough to give
you yours here, I'll come back and haunt you to your
grave."
"Eh?" ejaculated Jeb Case; but his sallow face turned
white, and after that he was less rough with his prisoner.
The two were dragged roughly from the jail. The
great crowd which had now gathered fought to get a
close view of them, to get hold of them, to strike them,
to revile them; but the leaders kept the others back lest
all be robbed of the treat which they had planned.
Through town they haled them and out along the road
toward Oakdale. There was some talk of taking them to
the scene of Paynter's supposed murder; but wiser heads
counselled against it lest the sheriff come with a posse
of deputies and spoil their fun.
Beneath a great tree they halted them, and two ropes
were thrown over a stout branch. One of the leaders
started to search them; and when he drew his hands out
of Bridge's side pockets his eyes went wide, and he
gave a cry of elation which drew excited inquiries from
all sides.
"By gum!" he cried, "I reckon we ain't made no mis-
take here, boys. Look ahere!" and he displayed two
handsful of money and jewelry.
"Thet's Abbie Prim's stuff," cried one.
The boy beside Bridge turned wide eyes upon the
man. "Where did you get it?" he cried. "Oh, Bridge,
why did you do it? Now they will kill you," and he
turned to the crowd. "Oh, please listen to me," he
begged. "He didn't steal those things. Nobody stole
them. They are mine. They have always belonged to
me. He took them out of my pocket at the jail because
he thought that I had stolen them and he wanted to
take the guilt upon himself; but they were not stolen,
I tell you--they are mine! they are mine! they are mine!"
Another new expression came into Bridge's eyes as he
listened to the boy's words; but he only shook his head.
It was too late, and Bridge knew it.
Men were adjusting ropes about their necks. "Be-
fore you hang us," said Bridge quietly, "would you mind
explaining just what we're being hanged for--it's sort of
comforting to know, you see."
"Thet's right," spoke up one of the crowd. "Thet's fair.
We want to do things fair and square. Tell 'em the
charges, an' then ask 'em ef they got anything to say
afore they're hung."
This appealed to the crowd--the last statements of
the doomed men might add another thrill to the eve-
ning's entertainment.
"Well," said the man who had searched them. "There
might o' been some doubts about you before, but they
aint none now. You're bein' hung fer abductin' of an'
most likely murderin' Miss Abigail Prim."
The boy screamed and tried to interrupt; but Jeb
Case placed a heavy and soiled hand over his mouth.
The spokesman continued. "This slicker admitted he was
The Oskaloosa Kid, 'n' thet he robbed a house an' shot a
man las' night; 'n' they ain't no tellin' what more he's
ben up to. He tole Jeb Case's Willie 'bout it; an' bragged
on it, by gum. 'Nenny way we know Paynter and Abi-
gail Prim was last seed with this here Oskaloosa Kid,
durn him."
"Thanks," said Bridge politely, "and now may I make
my final statement before going to meet my maker?"
"Go on," growled the man.
"You won't interrupt me?"
"Naw, go on."
"All right! You damn fools have made up your minds
to hang us. I doubt if anything I can say to you will
alter your determination for the reason that if all the
brains in this crowd were collected in one individual he
still wouldn't have enough with which to weigh the
most obvious evidence intelligently, but I shall present
the evidence, and you can tell some intelligent people
about it tomorrow.
"In the first place it is impossible that I murdered Abi-
gail Prim, and in the second place my companion is not
The Oskaloosa Kid and was not with Mr. Paynter last
night. The reason I could not have murdered Miss Prim
is because Miss Prim is not dead. These jewels were not
stolen from Miss Prim, she took them herself from her
own home. This boy whom you are about to hang is
not a boy at all--it is Miss Prim, herself. I guessed her
secret a few minutes ago and was convinced when she
cried that the jewels and money were her own. I don't
know why she wishes to conceal her identity; but I
can't stand by and see her lynched without trying to
save her."
The crowd scoffed in incredulity. "There are some
women here," said Bridge. "Turn her over to them.
They'll tell you, at least that she is not a man."
Some voices were raised in protest, saying that it
was a ruse to escape, while others urged that the women
take the youth. Jeb Case stepped toward the subject
of dispute. "I'll settle it durned quick," he announced
and reached forth to seize the slim figure. With a sud-
den wrench Bridge tore himself loose from his captors
and leaped toward the farmer, his right flew straight
out from the shoulder and Jeb Case went down with a
broken jaw. Almost simultaneously a car sped around a
curve from the north and stopped suddenly in rear of
the mob. Two men leaped out and shouldered their
way through. One was the detective, Burton; the other
was Jonas Prim.
"Where are they?" cried the latter. "God help you if
you've killed either of them, for one of them must know
what became of Abigail."
He pushed his way up until he faced the prisoners.
The Oskaloosa Kid gave him a single look of surprise and
then sprang toward him with outstretched arms.
"Oh, daddy, daddy!" she cried, "don't let them kill
him."
The crowd melted away from the immediate vicinity
of the prisoners. None seemed anxious to appear in the
forefront as a possible leader of a mob that had so
nearly lynched the only daughter of Jonas Prim. Bur-
ton slipped the noose from about the girl's neck and
then turned toward her companion. In the light from
the automobile lamps the man's face was distinctly visi-
ble to the detective for the first time that night, and as
Burton looked upon it he stepped back with an ex-
clamation of surprise.
"You?" he almost shouted. "Gad, man! where have
you been? Your father's spent twenty thousand dollars
trying to find you."
Bridge shook his head. "I'm sorry, Dick," he said,
"but I'm afraid it's too late. The open road's gotten into
my blood, and there's only one thing that--well--" he
shook his head and smiled ruefully--"but there ain't a
chance." His eyes travelled to the slim figure sitting so
straight in the rear seat of Jonas Prim's car.
Suddenly the little head turned in his direction.
"Hurry, Bridge," admonished The Oskaloosa Kid, "you're
coming home with us."
The man stepped toward the car, shaking his head.
"Oh, no, Miss Prim," he said, "I can't do that. Here's
your 'swag.'" And he smiled as he passed over her jewels
and money.
