He was thinking of "Maw" Watson.This woman resembled her just a little--particularly in her comfortable, motherly expansiveness, and she had had a kind word and a cheery good-bye for him that morning as he had departed.
The woman lay upon the sofa, breathing hard, and moaning just a little.The shock had been almost too much even for her stolid nerves.Presently she turned her eyes toward Billy.
"You are a good boy," she said, "and you come just in the nick o' time.They got all my money.It's in their clothes," and then a look of terror overspread her face.For the moment she had forgotten what she had heard about this man--that he was an escaped convict--a convicted murderer.Was she any better off now that she had let him know about the money than she was with the others after they discovered it?
At her words Bridge kneeled and searched the two tramps.
He counted the bills as he removed them from their pockets.
"Eleven hundred?" he asked, and handed the money to Billy.
"Eleven hundred, yes," breathed the woman, faintly, her eyes horror-filled and fearful as she gazed upon Billy's face.
She didn't care for the money any more--they could have it all if they would only let her live.
Billy turned toward her and held the rumpled green mass out.
"Here," he said; "but that's an awful lot o' coin for a woman to have about de house--an' her all alone.You ought not to a-done it."She took the money in trembling fingers.It seemed incredible that the man was returning it to her.
"But I knew it," she said finally.
"Knew what?" asked Billy.
"I knew you was a good boy.They said you was a murderer."Billy's brows contracted, and an expression of pain crossed his face.
"How did they come to say that?" he asked.
"I heard them telephonin' to Kansas City to the police," she replied, and then she sat bolt upright."The detectives are on their way here now," she almost screamed, "and even if you ARE a murderer I don't care.I won't stand by and see 'em get you after what you have done for me.I don't believe you're a murderer anyhow.You're a good boy.My boy would be about as old and as big as you by now--if he lives.He ran away a long time ago--maybe you've met him.His name's Eddie--Eddie Shorter.I ain't heard from him fer years.
"No," she went on, "I don't believe what they said--you got too good a face; but if you are a murderer you get out now before they come an' I'll send 'em on a wild-goose chase in the wrong direction.""But these," said Billy."We can't leave these here.""Tie 'em up and give me the shotgun," she said."I'll bet they don't come any more funny business on me." She had regained both her composure and her nerve by this time.
Together Billy and Bridge trussed up the two tramps.An elephant couldn't have forced the bonds they placed upon them.Then they carried them down cellar and when they had come up again Mrs.Shorter barred the cellar door.
"I reckon they won't get out of there very fast," she said.
"And now you two boys run along.Got any money?" and without waiting for a reply she counted twenty-five dollars from the roll she had tucked in the front of her waist and handed them to Billy.
"Nothin' doin'," said he; "but t'anks just the same.""You got to take it," she insisted."Let me make believe I'm givin' it to my boy, Eddie--please," and the tears that came to her eyes proved far more effective than her generous words.
