Jasper County Democrat, Volume 9, Number 35, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 1 December 1906 — The Manager Of the B.& A. [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

The Manager Of the B.& A.

By VAUGHAN KESTER.

SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS. I—Dan Oakley, Manager of the Buckthorn and Antioch railroad (known as the “Huckleberry"), receives two letters, one telling him that his convict father, Roger Oakley, has been pardoned, and the other that General Cornish, the owuer of the B. & A., is about to visit Antioch. ll—Oakley visit* Dr. Emory and meets Constance Emory. Other visitors are Griff Ryder, owner of the Antioch Herald, and Turner Jolce, the local artist. Ill—Oakley tells General Cornish that in order to keep the car shops running a cut in wages is necessary. IV- -Oakley tells Holt, his assistant treasurer, of the proposed cuts. V—Roger Oakley appears In Antioch. He is a worthy old man, who killed an enemy in self defence and was unjustly convicted of murder. VI Roger Oakley goes to work in the c#r shops. Griff Ryder tries to Induce Dan to keep a friend at work. Oakley refuses. Vll—Oakley and Ryder are rivals for Constance Emory a favor. Vlll—Through Kenyon, candidate for congress, whose cousin is warden of the prison in which Roger Oakley was confined, Ryder learns the old man’s history. IX—Oakley cuts wages In the car shops. He is attacked by the Herald. X—Oakley's office boy learns from the son of one of the men that the men are planning a strike and that Ryder is spreading the tale that Roger Oakley Is a criminal. Xl—The men In the car shops refuse to work with Roger Oakley. Branyon, their leader, is discharged. Oakley tells Dr. Emory that he will stay in Antioch and face the situation. Xlll—Oakley has a Hnal interview with Constance. XIV' and XV'—The car shop men go on strike. XVI and XVll—Roger Oakley visits Ryder to try to induce him to cease ids attacks on Dan. In a struggle the editor is killed a cidently. The body Is found and the slayer's identity discovered. The old man flees.

CHAPTER XVIII. BY’ 3 o’clock tlic saloons and stores, which had closed at noon, open- | ed their doors, and Antioch emerged from the shadow of its funeral gloom. By 4 o'clock a long procession of carriages and wagons was rumbling out of town. Those who had come from a distance were going home, but many lingered in the hope that the excitement was not all past. An hour later a rumor reached Antioch that Roger Oakley lfad been captured. It spread nln>ut the streets like wildfire and penetrated to the stores and saloons. At first It was not believed. Just who was responsible for the rumor no one knew, and no one cared, but soon the additional facts were tielug vouched for by a wore of excited men that a search party from Barrow's Sawmills, which had been trail-

lng the fugitive for two days, hart effected Ills capture after a desperate fight In the northern woods and were bringing him to Antioch for Identification. It was generally understood that If the prisoner proved to be Roger Oakley he would be spared the uncertainty of a trial. The threat was made openly thnt lie wouid be strung up to the first convenient lamp post. As Mr. Britt remarked to a customer from Harrison for whom he was mixing a cocktail: “It'd be a pity to keep a man of his years waiting; and what’s the use of spending thousands of dollars for a conviction anyhow when everybody knows lie done It V” At this juncture Jim Brown, the sheriff, and Joe Weaver, the town marshal, were seen to cross the square with an air of importance and preoccupation. It was noted casually that the right hand coat pocket of each sagged suggestively. They disappeared into MoElroy’s livery stable. Fifty men and boys rushed precipitately in pursuit and were Just In time to see the two officers pass out at the hack of the stable aud Jump into a light road cart that stood in the alley. A moment later and they were whirling off uptown. All previous doubt vanished Instantly. It was agreed on all sides that they were probably acting on private Information and had gone to bring In the prisoner. So strong was this conviction that a number of young men whose teams were hitched about the square promptly followed, and soou an uuxlous cavalcade emptied itself into the dusty country road. jlust beyond the corporation line tho North street, as it was called, forked. Mr. Brown and his companion had taken the road which bore to the west and led straight to Barrow’s Sawmills. Those who were first to reach the forks could still see the road curt a black dot in the distance. The afternoon passed, and tho dusk of evening came. Those of tile townspeople who were still hanging about the square went home to supper. Unless a man could hire or borrow a horse there was not much temptation to start off on a wild goose chase, which, after all, might end only at Barrow’s Sawmills. Fortunately for him, Dan Oakley had gone to CHlcago that morning, intending to see Holloway nud resign. In view of what had happened it was Impossible for him to remain lu Antioch, nor could General Cornish expect him to.

Miltou McCllutock was at supper with 1j1» family when Mrs. Stapleton, •who lived next door, broke lu upon them wllliout ceremony, crying excitedly. “They’ve got him, and they're going to lynch him!” Then she as suddenly disappeared. McCllutock from where he sat, holding a piece of bread wiyiin an inch of his lips and his mouth wide open to receive It, could see her through the iwlndow, her gray hair disheveled and totted about her fuce, ruftnlng from house to house, a gaunt rumor In flapping calico skirts. He sprang to His feet when he saw her vanish around the corner of Lou Bentlck’s house across the way. “You keep the children Jn, Mary,” he said

SharplyT "Don’t leT them into the street” And, snatching up bis bat and coat be made for the door, bat bis wife was there ahead of him and threw her arms about bis neck.

“For God's sake, Milt, stay with the boys and me!” she ejaculated. “You don’t know what may happen!” Outside they beard the trampling of many feet coming nearer and nearer. They listened breathlessly. “You don’t know what may happen!" she repeated. “Yes, I do, and they mustn’t do it!” unclasping her hands. “Jim will be needing help.” The sheriff was bis wife’s brother. “He’s promised me he’d hang the old man himself or no one else should.” There was silence now In the street The crowd had swept past the house. “But the town’s full of strangers. You can’t do anything, and Jim can’t!” “We can try. Look out for the children!” And he was gone.

Mrs. McClintock turned to the boys, who Were still at the table. “Go upstairs to your room and stay there until I tell you to come down,” she commanded peremptorily. “There, don’t bother me with questions!” For Joe, the youngest boy, was already whimpering. The other two, with white, scared faces, sat bolt upright In their chairs. Some danger threatened. They didn’t know what this danger was, and their very Ignorance added to their terror.

“Do what I say!” she cried. At this they left the table and marched toward the stairs. Joe found courage to say; “Ain’t you coming too? George’s afraid.” But his mother did not hear him. She was at the window closing the shutters. In the next yard she saw old Mrs. Smith, Mrs. Stapleton’s mother, carrying her potted plants into the house and scolding In a shrill, querulous voice. McC’lintock, pulling on his coat as he ran, hurried up the street past the little white frame Methodist church. The crowd had tho start of him, and tho town seemed deserted except for the women and children who were everywhere. at open doors and windows, some pallid and pitying, some ugly with the brutal excitement they had caught from brothers or husbands. As ho passed the Emorys’ he heard his name called. He glanced around and saw the doctor standing on the porch with Mrs. Emory and Constance. “Will you go with me, McClintock?” the physician cried. At the same moment tin 1 boy drove Ills team to the door. MeCllntoek took the fence ut a bound and ran up the drive. “There’s no time to lose.” he panted. "But.” with a sudden, sickening sense of helplessness, “I don’t know that we can stop them.” “At least he will not lie alone."

It was Constance who spoke. She was thinking of Oakley as struggling single handed to save his father from the howling, cursing rubble which had rushed up the street ten minutes before.

“No, he won’t he alone,” said McClintock, not understanding whom it was she meufit. He climbed in beside the doctor. “You haven’t seen him?” the latter asked as he took the reins from the boy.

“Seen who?’ “Dan Oakley.” “He’s on his way to Chicago. Went this morning.” "Thank God for that!” And he pulled in his horses to call back to Constance that Oakley had left Antioch. A look of instant relief came Into her face. He turned again to McClintock. “This Is a bad business.”

“Yes, we don't want no lynching, but it’s lucky Oakley isn’t here. I hadn't thought of what he’d do if he was.” “Wliat u pity he ever sent for his father! But who could have foreseen this?” said the doctor sadly. McClintock shook his head. “I can’t the old man killed Ryder in cold blood. Why, he’s us gentle as n lamb.” ,

As they left the town off to the right in a field they saw a bareheaded wouinu racing after her two runaway sous, and then the distant shouts of tneu, mingled with the shrill cries of boys, reached their eurs. The doctor shook out his relus and plied his whip.

“What If we are too late!” he said. For answer McCllntock swore. He was fearing that himself. Two minutes later and they were up with the rear of the mob, where it straggled ulong on foot, sweating and dusty and lioursely articulate. A little farther on and It was lost to sight in a thlcketed dip of the road. Out of this black shadow buggy after buggy flushed to show in the red dusk that lay ou the treeless hillside beyond. Ou the mob's either flunk, but keeping well out of the reach of their elders, slunk uud skulked the village urchins.

“Looks us If all Antioch was here tonight,” commented McCllutock grimly. “So much the better for us. Surely they are not all gone mad," answered the doctor. “I wouldn’t give a button for his chance*.” The doctor drove recklessly Into the crowd, which scattered to the right and left.

~ McClintock, bending low, scanned the faces which were raised toward them. “The whole township’s here. I don’t know one In ten,” be said, straightening up. “I wish I could manage to run over a few,” mattered the doctor savagely. As they neared the forks of the road Dr. Emory pulled in his horses. A heavy farm wagon blocked the way, and the driver was stolidly indifferent alike to his entreaties and to MeCllntock’s threat to break bis head for him if he didn’t move on. They were still shouting at him when a savage cry swelled up from the throats of those in advance. The murderer was being brought In from the east road.

“The brutes!” muttered the doctor, and he turned helplessly to McClintock. “What are we going to do? What can we do?” * By way of answer McClintock stood up. “I wish I could see Jim.” But Jim had taken the west road three hours before and was driving toward Barrow’s Sawmills as fpst as McElroy’s best team could take him. When he reached there It was enough to make one’s blood run cold to. hear the good man curse. “You wait here, doctor,” cried McClintock. “You can’t get past, and they seem to be coming this way now." “Look out for yourself, Milt” “Never fear for me.” He Jumped down into the dusty, trampled road and foot by foot fought his way forward. As be had said, those in front were turning back. The result was a horrible jam, for those behind were still straggling to get within sight of the murderer. A drunken man at McCllntock’s elbow was shouting, “Lynch him!” at the top of his lungs. The master mechanic wrenched an arm free and struck at him with the flat of his hand. The man appeared surprised, but not at all angry. He merely wiped the blood from his lips and asked jn an injured tone, which conveyed a mild reproof: “What did you want to do that for? I don’t know you.” And as he sought to maintain his place at McCllntock’s side he kept repeating: “Say,, neighbor, I don’t know you. You certainly got the advantage of me.”

Soon McClintock was In the very thick of the mob, and then he saw the captive. His hands were bound, nnd he was tied with ropes to the front seat of a buckboard drawn by two Jaded horses. His captors were three iron jawed, hard faced countrymen. They were armed with shotguns and were enjoying their splendid triumph to the full.

McClintock gave only one look at the prisoner. An agony of fear was on him. The collar of his shirt was stiff with blood from a wounded face. His bat was gone, and his coat was torn. Scared nnd wondering. Ills eyes shifted uneasily over the crowd. But the one look sufficed McClintock, and he lost all interest in the scene.

There would be no lynching that night, for the man was not Roger Oakley. Further than that, he was gray haired and burly. He was as unlike the old conviet as one man could well be unlike another.

Suddenly t’.e cry was raised; “It ain’t him! You fellows got the wrong man!” The cry was taken up and bandied back down the road. The mob drew a great, free breath of rejoicing. It became good natural with a nois/ hilarity. The Iron Jawed countrymen glanced around sheepishly.

“You are sure about that?" one inquired. “He answers the description all right” It was hard to have to abandon the ■idea of the rewards. “What have you been doing to him?” asked half a dozen voices in chorus. They felt a friendly interest In the poor bound wretch in the buckboard. Perhaps, too, they were grateful to him because he was the wrong man. “Oh, nothing much,” uneasily, “only he put up a good fight.” “Of course he did. He didn’t want to be hanged!” And there was a good natured roar from the crowd. Already

those nearest the prisoner were reaching up to throw off the-ropes that bound him. His captors looked on In stupid surprise, but did not seek to interfere. The prisoner himself, now that he

sawheTwas surrmlntLetTLiy well wisfiers and, being In a somewhat surly temper, which was pardonable enough under the circumstances, fell to complaining bitterly and loudly of the treatment he had received. Presently the mob began to disperse, some to slink back into town, rather ashamed of their fury, while the ever lengthening procession which had followed the four men In the buckboard since early in the day faced about and droVe off into the night. An hour afterward the prisoner was airing his grievances in sagacious Mr. Britt’s saloon, whither he hud been conveyed by the latter gentleman, who had been quick to recognize that, temporarily at least, he possessed great drawing powers. He was only a battered vagabond on his way east from the harvests In the Dakota whqatflelds, and he knew that he had looked Into the very eyes of death. [TO BE CONTINUED]

His captors were three iron jawed, hard faced countrymen.