Jack Wright and His Electric Stage Part 7

Jack had to purchase many necessary articles to equip the electric engine, and while they were stocking her, he said one day to Timberlake:

"As you are the sheriff of Clay County, Missouri, I cannot understand what, right you had to desert your post of duty there, and go off on a chase after the James Boys all the way to New York."

"That mystery can easily be explained," replied Timberlake with a smile.

"I was taking a vacation, to which I am ent.i.tled, when I learned of their proposed trip to the metropolis to see the sights. Instead of taking a rest, I became excited into a longing to capture them, and started in pursuit as a detective would have done."

"Oh, that accounts for it!"

"You see I always carry with me a warrant for the arrest of the James Boys and their gang, and therefore was prepared to take them had luck favored me."

Just then Tim stumped up to them, and proffering a plug of tobacco to the sheriff he asked:

"Have a chew?"

"No, I never use plug."

"Yer werry welcome, said Tim, and he took a bite.

"Don't mention it," laughed the sheriff.

"I've been havin' a awful hard time o' it, Timberlake."

"You don't say, Tim! What has happened?"

"Oh, 'twuzn't nuthin' wot occurred lately."

"To what do you refer then?" asked the perplexed sheriff.

"A leetle incident wot happened ter me when I wuz aboard o' the ole frigate Wabash in ther navy."

"Indeed! Was you in the navy?"

"A good many years, sir. Whar else did I git this leg blowed off?"

"You was just going to mention something that happened."

"Ay, ay. So I wuz. Yer see, it happened this way. We wuz a coastin'

through ther Red Sea one brilln' arternoon, watchin' ther monkeys an'

crocodiles on ther Arabian sh.o.r.e when all at onct I noticed a queer yaller-redness in ther sky on ther Afriky sh.o.r.e. It wuz caused by a simoom. Great clouds o' sand, driv' by the wind, wuz a-rus.h.i.+n' acrost ther desert toward ther s.h.i.+p, an' as it came out toward us, we seed we wuz doomed."

"You were in a mighty tight box," observed the sheriff, interestedly.

"Keel haul me if we wuzn't," agreed Tim, with a nod. "Waal, sir, we knowed that ther minute them ere clouds o' red-hot sand came down on ther s.h.i.+p, it would bury us an' bake us ter death. All my messmates wuz skeered ter death, an' droppin' down upon thar marrer bones about ther deck, they begun ter pray like sons of guns. Did I give away ter ther general panic? Not much.

"Cause why? I'll tell yer. A way ter save ther s.h.i.+p an' crew occured ter me. Wot wuz it? Yer'll see. Yer know as crocodiles is reckoned ther fastest swimmers in ther water. Waal, sir, as soon as I seed that ere storm abarin' down on us I knowed as our only chance to save ourselves laid in runnin' away from it. Now thar wuzn't wind enough for ther sails ter do it, so wot does I do but gits a rope; then I jumped overboard right in ther midst o' them crocodiles. Afore yer could count ten I made a slipnoose fast about ther necks o' forty o' them animiles, got back aboard the frigate an' tied ther other and o' ther line ter the capstan.

Then I took a spear an' cllmbin' out on ther bowsprit I began ter jab 'em an' away they went, pullin' ther frigate along like greased lightning---"

"Say, Tim---"

"I ain't done yet---"

"But I tell you---"

"Awarst thar! As I wuz asayin' along we went like fury, ther simoon chasing arter us. It wuz a terrible race an' I yelled and poked at them ere crocodiles like mad.

"In a few moments we wuz makin' eighty knots an hour, an' I noticed as we wuz pullin' away from that ere storm werry stiddy, ontil at last we lef it astarn, an' ther s.h.i.+p wuz saved. You'd oughter seed how glad my poor messmates wuz when I finally cut ther crocodiles loose an' we sailed in clear water---"

"It must have been great," dryly said Timberlake.

"Ay now," proudly replied Tim. "That it wuz, sir."

"Say, Tim, that would be a splendid yarn only for one thing."

"An' wot might that be, Mr. Timberlake?"

"Crocodiles can't live in salt water, and as the Red Sea is exceedingly briny, I don't understand how the ones you captured could have been there and submitted to being harnessed as you did it, without offering to make a meal of you."

A rather startled look crossed Tim's face.

He thoughtfully rubbed his big red nose and gasped:

"Gee whiz!"

The fact was Tim was an awful liar.

He seldom spun a yarn without being tripped up.

That is the trouble with most liars; they generally make an error in their stories which won't stand a.n.a.lysis.

"Will you be kind enough to explain how those saurians happened to be in that sea in such a docile frame of mind, Tim?" asked Timberlake, with a provoking smile of derision.

"No, sir," flatly answered the old sailor, who was utterly at a loss how to clear himself. "The fact are, sir, as I never gives explanations e'

my yarns, an'---"

But here he was interrupted.

By the wild shriek of an accordeon.

In the hands of Fritz.

The Dutchmen hated Tim's yarns.

And Tim hated Fritz's music with equal fervor.

Consequently, while the yarn caused the fat fellow to strike up his frantic melody, the music grated on Tim's ears so that a wild desire entered his soul to pulverize the Dutchman.

"Hey!" he howled, shaking his fist at Fritz. "Belay thar!"

"s.h.i.+miney Christmas, vos yer tink I vould listen ter some more ohf dem lies mitoud dot I trownd it oud alretty?" fiercely bellowed Fritz, working away at the wheezy box.