"Hey, Bracken! Jimmy!" shouted Jack Barnes, jumping out upon the little wharf. Marjory gave him her hands and was whisked ashore and into his arms. "Run into the boathouse, dear. I'll yank this stuff ashore. Where the dickens is Bracken?"
The boathouse door opened slowly and a sleepy young man looked forth.
"I thought you'd never come," he yawned.
"Wake up, you old loafer! We're here and we are pursued! Where are George and Amy?" cried Mr. Barnes, doing herculean duty as a baggage smasher.
"Pursued?" cried the sleepy young man, suddenly awake.
"Yes, and shot at!" cried Marjory, running past him and into the arms of a handsome young woman who was emerging from the house.
"We've no time to lose, Jimmy! They are on to us, Heaven knows how. They are not more than ten minutes behind us. Get it over with, Jimmy, for Heaven's sake! Here, George, grab this trunk!"
CHAPTER IV
Anderson Rectifies an Error
In a jiffy the fugitives and their property were transferred to the interior of the roomy boathouse, the doors bolted, and George Crosby stationed at a window to act as lookout.
"Is it your father?" demanded the Rev. James Bracken, turning to Marjory. Young Mrs. Crosby was looking on eagerly.
"Mr. Brewster is at home and totally oblivious to all this," cried Jack Barnes. "I don't know what it means. Here's the license, Jimmy. Are you ready, Marjory?"
"This is rather a squeamish business, Jack—" began the young minister in the negligée shirt. He was pulling on his coat as he made the remark.
"Oh, hurry, Jimmy; please hurry!" cried Marjory Brewster.
"Don't wait a second, Jimmy Bracken!" cried Amy Crosby, dancing with excitement. "You can't go back on them now!"
Three minutes later there was no Marjory Brewster, but there was a Mrs. John Ethelbert Barnes—and she was kissing her husband rapturously.
"Now, tell us everything," cried Mrs. Crosby after the frantic congratulations. The Reverend "Jimmy" Bracken, of the Eleventh Presbyterian Church, was the only one who seemed uncertain as to his position. In the first place, old Judge Brewster was a man of influence in the metropolis, from which all had fled for a sojourn in the hills. He and his daughter were Episcopalians, but that made them none the less important in the eyes of "Jimmy" Bracken. In the second place, Jack Barnes was a struggling lawyer, in the Year of our Lord 1880, and possessed of objectionable poverty. The young men had been room-mates at college. Friendship had overcome discretion in this instance, at least. The deed being done, young Mr. Bracken was beginning to wonder if it had not been overdone, so to speak.
"I wish somebody would tell me!" exclaimed Jack Barnes, with a perplexed frown. "The beastly jays shot at us and all that. You'd think I was an outlaw. And they blazed away at Marjory, too, hang them!"
Marjory, too excited to act like a blushing bride, took up the story and told all that had happened. George Crosby became so interested that he forgot to keep guard.
"This is a funny mess!" he exclaimed. "There's something wrong—"
"Hey, you!" came a shout from the outside.
"There they are!" cried Marjory, flying to her husband's side. "What are we to do?"
"You mean, what are they to do? We're married, and they can't get around that, you know. Let 'em come!" cried the groom exultantly. "You don't regret it, do you, sweetheart?" quite anxiously. She smiled up into his eyes, and he felt very secure.
"What do you fellows want?" demanded Crosby from the window. Anderson Crow was standing on the river bank like a true Napoleon, flanked by three trusty riflemen.
"Who air you?" asked Anderson in return. He was panting heavily, and his legs trembled.
"None of your business! Get off these grounds at once; they're private!"
"None o' your sass, now, young man; I'm an officer of the law, an' a detective to boot! We sha'n't stand any nonsense. The place is surrounded and he can't escape! Where is he?"
"That's for you to find out if you're such a good detective! This is David Bracken's place, and you can find him at his home on the hilltop yonder!"
"Ask him what we've done, George," whispered Barnes.
"We ain't after Mr. Bracken, young feller, but you know what we do want! He's in there—you're shielding him—we won't parley much longer! Send him out!" said Anderson Crow.
"If you come a foot nearer you'll get shot into the middle of kingdom come!" shouted Crosby defiantly.
The inmates gasped, for there was not a firearm on the place.
"Be careful!" warned the Reverend "Jimmy" nervously.
"Goin' to resist, eh? Well, we'll get him; don't you worry; an' that ornery female o' hisn', too!"
"Did you hear that?" exclaimed Jack Barnes. "Let me get at the old rat." He was making for the door when the two women obstructed the way. Both were frantic with fear.
"But he called you a female!" roared he.
"Well, I am!" she wailed miserably.
"Who is it you want?" asked Crosby from the window.
"That's all right," roared Anderson Crow; "purduce him at once!"
"Is this the fellow?" and Crosby dragged the Reverend "Jimmy" into view. There was a moment's inspection of the cadaverous face, and then the sleuths shook their heads.
"Not on your life!" said Mr. Crow. "But he's in there—Ike Smalley seen him an' his paramount go up the steps from the landin'! 'Twon't do no good to hide him, young feller; he's—"
"Well, let me tell you something. You are too late—they're married!" cried Crosby triumphantly.
"I don't give a cuss if they're married and have sixteen children!" shouted the exasperated Crow, his badge fairly dancing. "He's got to surrender!"
"Oh, he does, eh?"
"Yes, sir-ee-o-bob; he's got to give up, dead or alive! Trot him out lively, now!"
"I don't mind telling you that Mr. Barnes is here; but I'd like to know why you're hunting him down like a wild beast, shooting at him and Miss—I mean Mrs. Barnes. It's an outrage!"
"Oh, we ain't the on'y people that can kill and slaughter! She's just as bad as he is, for that matter—an' so are you and that other lantern-jawed outlaw in there." The Reverend "Jimmy" gasped and turned a fiery red.
"Did he call me a—say!" and he pushed Crosby aside. "I'd have you to understand that I'm a minister of the gospel—I am the Reverend James Bracken, of—"
A roar of laughter greeted his attempt to explain; and there were a few remarks so uncomplimentary that the man of cloth sank back in sheer hopelessness.
"Well, I'll give them reason to think that I'm something of a desperado," grated the Reverend "Jimmy," squaring his shoulders. "If they attempt to put foot inside my uncle's house I'll—I'll smash a few heads."
"Bravo!" cried Mrs. Crosby. She was his cousin, and up to that time had had small regard for her mild-mannered relative.
"He can preach the funeral!" shouted Ike Smalley.