Struggling Upward: Luke Larkin's Luck

TWO UNEXPECTED CHAMPIONS

It may well be imagined that there was a commotion among the passengers when this stern summons was heard.  The highwaymen were but two in number, but each was armed with a revolver, ready for instant use.

One by one the passengers descended from the stage, and stood trembling and panic-stricken in the presence of the masked robbers.  There seems to be something in a mask which inspires added terror, though it makes the wearers neither stronger nor more effective.

Luke certainly felt startled and uncomfortable, for he felt that he must surrender the money he had with him, and this would be inconvenient, though the loss would not be his, but his employer’s.

But, singularly enough, the passenger who seemed most nervous and terrified was the stalwart Colonel Braddon, who had boasted most noisily of what he would do in case the stage were attacked.  He nervously felt in his pockets for his money, his face pale and ashen, and said, imploringly:  “Spare my life, gentlemen; I will give you all I have.”

“All right, old man,” said one of the stage robbers, as he took the proffered pocketbook.  “Haven’t you any more money?”

“No; on my honor, gentlemen.  It will leave me penniless.”

“Hand over your watch.”

With a groan, Colonel Braddon handed over a gold stem-winder, of Waltham make.

“Couldn’t you leave me the watch, gentlemen?” he said, imploringly.  “It was a present to me last Christmas.”

“Can’t spare it.  Make your friends give you another.”

Next came the turn of Mortimer Sprague, the young dude.

“Hand over your spondulics, young feller,” said the second gentleman of the road.

“Weally, I’m afraid I can’t, without a good deal of twouble.”

“Oh, curse the trouble; do as I bid, or I’ll break your silly head.”

“You see, gentlemen, I keep my money in my boots, don’t you know.”

“Take off your boots, then, and be quick about it.”

“I can’t; that is, without help.  They’re awfully tight, don’t you know.”

“Which boot is your money in?” asked the road agent, impatiently.

“The right boot.”

“Hold it up, then, and I’ll help you.”

The road agent stooped over, not suspecting any danger, and in doing so laid down his revolver.

In a flash Mortimer Sprague electrified not only his assailants, but all the stage passengers, by producing a couple of revolvers, which he pointed at the two road agents, and in a stern voice, wholly unlike the affected tones in which he had hitherto spoken, said:  “Get out of here, you ruffians, or I’ll fire!”

The startled road agent tried to pick up his revolver, but Sprague instantly put his foot on it, and repeated the command.

The other road agent, who was occupied with the minister, turned to assist his comrade, when he, too, received a check from an unexpected source.

The minister, who was an old man, had a stout staff, which he used to guide him in his steps.  He raised it and brought it down with emphasis on the arm which held the revolver, exclaiming.  “The sword of the Lord and of Gideon!  I smite thee, thou bold, bad man, not in anger, but as an instrument of retribution.”

“Well done, reverend doctor!” exclaimed Mortimer Sprague.  “Between us we will lay the rascals out!”

Luke, who was close at hand, secured the fallen revolver be fore the road agent’s arm had got over tingling with the paralyzing blow dealt by the minister, who, in spite of his advanced age, possessed a muscular arm.

“Now git, you two!” exclaimed Mortimer Sprague.  “Git, if you want to escape with whole bones!”

Never, perhaps, did two road agents look more foolish than these who had suffered such a sudden and humiliating discomfiture from those among the passengers whom they had feared least.

The young dude and the old missionary had done battle for the entire stage-load of passengers, and vanquished the masked robbers, before whom the rest trembled.

“Stop!” said Colonel Braddon, with a sudden thought.  “One of the rascals has got my pocketbook!”

“Which one?” asked Mortimer.

The colonel pointed him out.

Instantly the dude fired, and a bullet whistled within a few inches of the road agent’s head.

“Drop that pocketbook!” he exclaimed, “or I’ll send another messenger for it; that was only a warning!”

With an execration the thoroughly terrified robber threw down the pocketbook, and the relieved owner hastened forward to pick it up.

“I thought I’d fetch him, don’t you know,” said the dude, relapsing into his soft drawl.

By this time both the road agents were at a safe distance, and the rescued passengers breathed more freely.

“Really, Mr. Sprague,” said Colonel Braddon, pompously, “you are entitled to a great deal of credit for your gallant behavior; you did what I proposed to do.  Of course, I had to submit to losing my pocketbook, but I was just preparing to draw my revolver when you got the start of me.”

“If I’d only known it, colonel,” drawled Mr. Sprague, “I’d have left the job for you.  Weally, it would have saved me a good deal of trouble.  But I think the reverend doctor here is entitled to the thanks of the company.  I never knew exactly what the sword of the Lord and of Gideon was before, but I see it means a good, stout stick.”

“I was speaking figuratively, my young friend,” said the missionary “I am not sure but I have acted unprofessionally, but when I saw those men of violence despoiling us, I felt the natural man rise within me, and I smote him hip and thigh.”

“I thought you hit him on the arm, doctor,” said Mr. Sprague.

“Again I spoke figuratively, my young friend.  I cannot say I regret yielding to the impulse that moved me.  I feel that I have helped to foil the plans of the wicked.”

“Doctor,” said one of the miners, “you’ve true grit.  When you preach at the Black Hills, count me and my friends among the listeners.  We’re all willing to help along your new church, for you’re one of the right sort.”

“My friends, I will gladly accept your kind proposal, but I trust it will not be solely because I have used this arm of flesh in your defense.  Mr. Sprague and I have but acted as humble instruments in the hands of a Higher Power.”

“Well, gentlemen,” said Colonel Braddon, “I think we may as well get into the stage again and resume our journey.”

“What shall I do with this revolver?” asked Luke, indicating the one he had picked up.

“Keep it,” said the colonel.  “You’ll make better use of it than the rascal who lost it.”

“I’ve got an extra one here,” said Mortimer Sprague, raising the one on which he had put his foot.  “I don’t need it myself, so I will offer it to the reverend doctor.”

The missionary shook his head.

“I should not know how to use it,” he said, “nor indeed am I sure that I should feel justified in doing so.”

“May I have it, sir?” asked one of the miners.

“Certainly, if you want it,” said Mr. Sprague.

“I couldn’t afford to buy one; but I see that I shall need one out here.”

In five minutes the stage was again on its way, and no further adventures were met with.  About the middle of the next day the party arrived at Deadwood.