Chapter IX: A Close Call

"You are going to murder me?" the boy cried.

"Well, we don't put it just that way," was the cool reply of the man who had spoken before.

"How do you put it, then?"

"We are going to execute you. In cases like yours the law is a little too slow for us, so we have constituted ourselves judge, jury, executioners and all the rest of it. Young fellow, you've stolen your last horse."

The truth flashed upon Al.

For several weeks residents of the neighborhood of Boomville--principally farmers--had been the victims of a clever horse thief, who had, since he began operations, stolen a number of valuable animals. The authorities seemed to be powerless in the matter, although they professed to be using every possible means to bring the thief to justice. Only one clew had been gained; one of the stolen horses had been sold to a farmer in a village about fifty miles distant by a youth of about sixteen, who had given a plausible reason to the simple-minded purchaser for having the animal in his possession. The farmer had been able to give a quite minute description of the boy. Al had read that description, and now remembered, with a sinking of the heart, that it would apply to him fully as well as to the thief for whom he was taken.

"See here," he exclaimed, impetuously, "you are making a terrible mistake! I am not the person you think me to be."

"That's all right," was the sarcastic response of the spokesman of the crowd. "I told you we were not going to waste any words on you, and we are not."

"String him up!" shouted another of the party. "Get the job done with! We're taking big chances in delaying the thing."

"That's right!"

"H'ist the derned hoss thief, then!"

"We've had enough chin music; let's get to work."

These were a few of the comments of the would-be executioners.

One man now stepped to the front. It was he who had followed Al from the town. He had now donned a mask like the rest of the party.

"I'll do the job," he said. "Will you leave it to me, gents?"

Al started. Where had he heard that voice? Before any reply could be made he said, in a loud, clear voice:

"Gentlemen, I am innocent of this crime. My name is Allen Allston. I live in Boomville. Hundreds of people there know me, and can tell you what my reputation is. Why, I should not have the slightest trouble in proving an alibi. If you murder me, you will all bitterly regret it some day. You do not want to commit a murder; you want to do what you think an act of justice. You are making an awful mistake; give me a chance, and I will prove it."

These words had a visible effect upon the desperate men. They began to converse together in a low tone--all but the man who had followed Al; he stood aloof from the rest.

"See here," he presently said, in a voice that Al noticed trembled slightly, "if you gents have any more time to fool away here I haven't. I don't propose to get into any trouble through this thing. I have tried to do you a service, but you don't seem to appreciate it."

"We don't want to make any mistake," said the spokesman.

"But you're not making any mistake. Don't I tell you I know the boy, that he is the same one that sold me the horse last week?"

Here Al interposed.

"Do you claim," he asked, "that you are the farmer to whom the horse thief sold one of the stolen animals last week?"

"I do; and I recognize you as the person. It's no use, my fine fellow, the jig's up. I've been shadowing you for some time, and I've got you down fine."

Al turned to the group of men, who had been listening in silence to the brief dialogue.

"Gentlemen," he said, "do any of you know the farmer who bought the horse from the thief? Could any one of you swear to his identity?"

The spokesman replied, this time using a gentler tone than before.

"No, my lad," he said, "not one of us ever saw the man until to-night."

"You don't see him now," said Al. "I do not believe that this is the man at all. He is some enemy of mine, who has imposed upon you for his own personal ends."

"Bah!" interrupted the subject of discussion, "are we to stand here all night listening to this sort of stuff? The young villain is only trying to gain time. Of course, if he will steal, he will lie."

"All I ask is a fair trial," said Al, "but I see I cannot get that here. However, gentlemen, if you must kill some one, don't kill the wrong man. It looks to me a good deal as if this fellow were the real thief, and that he was trying to throw dust in your eyes. None of you ever saw him before, you say. Now, perhaps I have seen him. Let me see his face; it may be that I can identify him."

"That's fair enough."

"That's all right."

"Off with your mask, stranger, and let the boy see your face."

It was evident that the sentiment of the crowd was turning in Al's favor.

"Why should I show him my face?" said the boy's accuser. "All the rest of you are masked."

"We'll take off our masks if you take off yours," said the spokesman. "Eh, boys?"

"Ay! ay!" came from the others.

Still the stranger hesitated.

"It's risky for all of us," he said. "Have done with this nonsense. If you are going to do away with the thief, get to work; if you're not, why, let him go. We can't stand here all night chinning."

"Off with your mask!" said the leader of the crowd, sternly.

"All right," said the fellow, desperately; "I agree. Off with yours, then, all of you."

Several of the crowd removed their masks. The stranger raised his hand, as if to take his off, but instead of doing so, he turned suddenly and made a rush for a thick growth of wood near which the scene we have just described had been enacted. In a few moments--before his companions could recover from their astonishment--he had disappeared.

"After him, Hammond and Thompson, and you, Porter!" shouted the leader. "Don't let him get away from you."

Then turning to Al, he added:

"Boy, I believe we have made a mistake. That fellow is the real thief."

"I don't know about that," said our hero, "but I do know I'm not."

"If he isn't the thief, what motive could he have had in accusing an innocent person?"

"Perhaps it is some one who has a grudge against me."

"It must be an awful grudge to induce him to lay such a plot as that against you. Do you suspect anyone?"

"I'd rather not mention any names," said Al.

Here an old farmer, one of the three or four who had removed their masks, stepped forward.

"Don't let this here boy fule yer," he said. "I b'lieve he's one o' the gang. Mark my word, it'll turn aout so."

"You think so, do you, Mr. Chadwick?" said Al, quietly, looking the old man full in the face.

"Yeou know me, dew yeou?"

"Yes, and you ought to know me. Have you forgotten Allen Allston?"

The farmer gasped for breath.

"I'll be derned ef it ain't Jack Allston's boy!" he exclaimed. "Why, o' course I know yeou."

"I told you my name before."

"I wuz so 'xcited that I didn't take notice. I wuz so sure, yeou see, thet we hed the right one. Boys"--turning to the others--"I'll swear thet this here lad don't know no more 'baout who stole them hosses than we do. I know all his folks, an' there ain't a dishonest hair in the heads o' enny o' them. I'd ha' know'd him at fust, but I ain't seen him fer a year or more, an' he's grow'd. An' besides, my eyesight ain't what it used ter be. Boys, we've hed a narrer escape from committin' a murder." The men now crowded round Al and shook his hands, and apologized for their rough treatment of him.

While they were thus engaged the three who had gone in pursuit of Al's accuser returned.

"Ain't you got him?" cried Farmer Chadwick.

"No, he gave us the slip. The moon has gone under a cloud, and in the darkness he got away. But we'll catch him yet."

Then the man turned to Al.

"Boy," he queried, "have you any suspicion as to who the fellow is?"

Our hero hesitated, then he replied:

"Yes, I have."

"Who do you think he is?" cried two or three of the men together.

"I would rather not say," replied the boy.

"Why?"

"Because I might be wronging an innocent man."

"But we want to find the thief."

"I cannot help you do that. If the man is the one I think he may be, he did not steal the horses."

"Why did he accuse you, then?" demanded one of the party.

"Merely to satisfy a private grudge."

"Then he ought to be found and punished; so why do you try to shield him?"

"Because it is my private affair," replied Al, quietly. "And because I do not like your way of administering what you call justice. See how near you came to making a mistake to-night. But how did you run across the fellow who said I was the thief?"

"I'll tell you," replied the spokesman, rather sheepishly. "A few of us were in a saloon in Boomville the early part of the evening. We had indulged in a few drinks, and we must have talked a little louder than we realized, for this fellow overheard us telling how we were going to start a search for the horse thief to-night and string him up if we found him. He came and told us that he could lead us to him. Well, he talked as if he knew what he was saying, and---- Well, you know the rest."

"So," said Al, "you took the word of a barroom loafer, or worse, on a matter of so much importance as that."

"We were excited and had drunk a little too much."

"Well, it seems to me that you had better leave the future management of the business to the proper authorities," suggested Al.

"Maybe you're right," admitted the man he addressed. "Well, you won't say anything about this night's affair to anyone?"

"I shall say nothing that can harm you. The thing shall not be made public through me."

"We'll take your word for that. And now, get into the wagon, and you shall be driven home."