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"You're a loving nephew, you are, Dan Moriarity, Oh! you come around and see your old aunt when you're up to some devilment, I'm bound." Moriarity, not deigning to reply to this speech, had gone back to his companion, and now returned with the form of the detective between them. "My God! you haven't killed him, Dan?" "He has a pretty sore head, I reckon, but nothing worse. Take us up- stairs."
Wittrock, what have you to say?" "That's a very pretty yarn; but as I don't happen to be the man that did all that I don't see how it concerns me." "Look at that and tell me what you have to say," and Mr. Pinkerton laid before him the sworn deposition of Daniel Moriarity, in which all the facts that Mr.
Fear was a stranger to both, and as they quietly conversed in whispered accents it would be difficult to believe that they were about to engage in a most desperate enterprise. In another room lay Cummings and Moriarity, completely dressed.
The subject of this conversation was all this time galloping over the level prairie, following closely behind Moriarity, who, with his rifle thrown across the pommel of his saddle, was on the look out for anything in the way of game which might come along.
The house, though completely furnished, was vacant, and the men reached the street without meeting any one. Cummings and Moriarity having left, the widow, for the first time ventured to look at her new charge. Her keen eyes noted the disguise which Chip had adopted.
No disguise had been attempted, no great secrecy and if it had not been for the unfortunate affair of the cooper-shop, he might have lived there for years without any suspicions being directed toward him. Although he had moved so openly and boldly he had kept to himself, not even telling Moriarity the location of his residence. To this place he now hurried.
Rieley was watching him closely this evening, so intently, indeed, that the stranger, with a look of annoyance, swept the chips into his hat and stepping up to the banker cashed them in and walked out of the room. As he emerged from the door he came in violent contact with a man just entering. "I beg your pardon." "Not at by Jove! Moriarity, you here too?" "Blest if it isn't Jim!"
I'm glad his name is not Moriarity not because it is Irish, for I like the Irish; so does Brown, for he is married to one of them. Any one who has been in Cork and heard the fine old Irishman say in his musical and inimitable voice, "Tis a lovely dye," such a one will ever after have a snug place in his affections for the Irish, whether he has kissed the "Blarney stone" or not.
It had, fortunately, fallen outside the rails, and picking it up, Cummings led the way, followed by the somewhat surprised and still more curious Moriarity. At this point on the Missouri river, the bluffs rise abruptly from the banks. The railroad, winding around the curves, was literally hewn from the solid rock.
Sam, who had merely been stunned, soon recovered, and with the aid of some brandy Richard was himself once more. The notorious Jim Cummings had escaped, but two of his accomplices, Cook and Moriarity, were in the clutches of the law. Dan maintained a dogged silence as the cavalcade cantered toward Kansas City, nor did he speak a word until he was safe behind the bars in that city.
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