Miss Mink's Soldier and Other Stories

								

under his left ear, and drifted into dreamland.
How long he slept undisturbed, only the scarecrow outside knew. He was
dimly aware, in his dreams, of subdued sounds and, by and by, the sounds
formed themselves into whispered words and, still half asleep, he
listened.
"I thought we'd find him along here. This is the road they always take,"
a low voice was saying; "you and Sam stand here, John and me'll tackle
him from this side. He'll put up a stiff fight, you bet."
Phelan opened his eyes, and tried to remember where he was.
"Gosh! look at that bulldog!" came another whisper, and at the same
moment Corporal jumped to his feet, growling angrily.
As he did so, four men sprang through the opening of the shed, and
seized Phelan by the arms and legs.
"Look out there," cried one excitedly; "don't let him escape; here's the
handcuffs."
"But here," cried Phelan, "what's up; what you doing to me?"
By this time Corporal, thoroughly roused, made a vicious lunge at the
nearest man. The next minute there was a sharp report of a pistol, and
the bull-terrier went yelping and limping out into the night.
"You coward!" cried Phelan, struggling to rise, "if you killed that
dog--"
"Get those shackles on his legs," shouted one of the men. "Is the wagon
ready, Sam? Take his legs there, I've got his head. Leave the truck
here, we've got to drive like sand to catch that train!"
After being dragged to the road and thrown into a spring wagon, Phelan
found himself lying on his back, jolting over a rough country road, his
three vigilant captors sitting beside him with pistols in hand.
Any effort on his part to explain or seek information was promptly and
emphatically discouraged. But in time he gathered, from the bits let
fall by his captors, that he was an escaped convict, of a most desperate
character, for whom a reward was offered, and that he had been at large
twenty-four hours.
In vain did he struggle for a hearing. Only once did he get a response
to his oft-repeated plea of innocence. It was when he told how he had
come by the clothes he had on. For once Phelan got a laugh when he did
not relish it.
"Got 'em off a scarecrow, did you?" said the man at his head, when the
fun had subsided; "say, I want to be 'round when you tell that to the
Superintendent of the Penitentiary--I ain't heard him laugh in ten
years!"
So, in the face of such unbelief, Phelan lapsed into silence and gloom.
What became of him concerned him less, at the moment, than the fate of
Corporal, and the thought of the faithful little beast wounded and
perhaps dying out there in the fields, made him sick at heart.
Just as they came in sight of the lights of the station, the whistle of
the freight was heard down the track and the horses were beaten to a
gallop.
Phelan was hurried from the wagon into an empty box car, with his full
guard in attendance. As the train pulled out he heard a little whimper