The police patrol wagon, pulled by a team of sturdy draught horses pulled up in front of the building that housed Paco’s apartment. A policeman driver held the reins and kept the horses in place as two uniformed policemen and three Pinkerton detectives wearing bowler hats and dark suits with long black overcoats disembarked.
The two uniformed policemen took up positions, one on each side of the front entrance of the tenement house, while the detectives circled behind the building toward the stairs at the rear entrance. It was up and down these stairs that Paco came and went from his apartment.
It had not been difficult for the Pinkertons to identify Paco from the picture in the paper and trace him to his residence. Paco would be the key to capturing the Wildcat Gang.
“Police out front, Senors,” Paco announced. He was holding a curtain slightly skewed from the window.
Rap and Jeremy got up from their chairs and looked out. “I think we’re in trouble, guys,” Jeremy said. “There’s three detectives heading around back.”
“You think they’re after us?” Rap asked.
“They’re not just coming to collect the garbage, paleface,” Chief said.
They all started for the door. Jeremy had his hand on the doorknob when he heard the heavy footsteps clambering up the wooden stair.
Heavy pounding on the door sounded and the door seemed to be vibrating in its casing. “Open up!” A deep voice demanded. “Pinkerton detectives.”
What to do? What to do? Think fast!
Jeremy slipped to the hinged side of the door, pulling Rap and Henry with him. They flattened themselves against the wall.
“Let them in, Paco. Stand back and let them come all the way in,” Jeremy whispered.
The pounding on the door hadn’t ceased. The voice on the other side boomed again. “Open up in the name of the law!”
“Si, Senors.” Paco said demurely as he pulled the door open.
The detectives charged through pushing Paco back into the room.
As the first two passed the open door, Jeremy shoved the door against the third man, pushing him aside and stumbling into a table that slid out from under him and left him falling to the floor. At the same time Rap stepped forward swinging his pistol in a wide arc and bringing it down on the head of one of the detectives. His bowler hat was crushed and fell off his head onto the floor. Blood dripped from the gash on his balding head.
The other detective was just turning when Chief Henry slashed him across his wide nose with the barrel of his weapon. The man dropped his own weapon and both hands went to his face as he stumbled and fell.
The third detective that had been surprised by the door slamming into him and knocking him to the floor was starting to rise. Jeremy gave him a swift kick under the chin and sent the man reeling back to the floor.
While the three detectives struggled to regain themselves, Jeremy, Rap and Chief hurried out the door and ran down the steps. Chief stumbled, unable to see the steps clearly through his thick glasses. Rap caught him and held him steady as they descended the stairway.
There was no sign of the uniformed policemen out back, so it was a good bet that they were guarding the front entrance to the tenement.
The three fugitives, reaching the foot of the stairs ran into the alley and headed the other way to the street behind.
They came out of the alley and found themselves on Lexington Avenue. A quick glance behind them, told them the three detectives and two uniformed policemen were following hot on their trail. They had just entered the alley as the Wildcats emerged out into the street.
Not really knowing where they were going, the fugitives ran into the street and turned to the left. Rap had been in the lead and had taken the turn. The others, merely followed him.
The street was busy with pedestrians and horse drawn vehicles and an occasional horseless carriage putt- putting along the thoroughfare.
Jeremy, Rap and Henry ran into the traffic, hoping to conceal themselves from their pursuers. They ran for a block before Jeremy looked back and saw their pursuers emerging from the alley into the street. They looked up and down the street searching for their quarry.
“Hurry up guys!” Jeremy shouted to his companions, a few strides in front of him. Rap was practically dragging Chief along. “Here they come!” He was breathing hard from the exertion.
The detectives and policemen had spotted them and were now racing after them. The long coat tails of the Pinkerton men flapped about their knees and ankles.
The traffic was impeding the progress of the fugitives and a horseless carriage appeared just before them.
The machine just chugged along as Rap and Chief came abreast of it.
“Move that thing out of the way!” Rap yelled as they came up behind what he had called a tin horse. The driver was a thin man in his thirties. He was wearing a long white duster and a silly looking cap. Large black rimmed goggles were fitted around his eyes.
“To hell with this, mister!” Rap shouted in frustration. Still hanging on to Chief, Rap reached out with his other hand and pulled the young driver from his seat in the vehicle. The man fell out into the road way and rolled. The driver of a milk wagon pulled hard on the reins of his team of horses and barely missed running the man over.
The machine rolled on, riderless, for a short ways before Rap leaped up into the seat, dragging Chief with him. Jeremy, seeing what his friends were doing, reached out with both hands, grabbed the top rail of the back of the carriage. He pulled his legs up off the ground, trying to wrap his legs around the body of the vehicle. He finally grasped a foothold and hung on like a bug on a big bug.
“Get this thing moving!” Jeremy shouted. “They’re catching up to us! Hell! We could run faster than this.”
“How do we make this thing go faster?” Rap shouted.
“Got to give it gas!” Chief yelled, reaching for a lever and pulling on it. The vehicle began to slow. The lever had operated a wooden brake shoe against the vehicles rear wheels.
“What are you doing?” Rap cried.
“Wrong lever, paleface.” Chief pulled another lever. The engine blurted loud and the machine jumped forward with a lurch. Rap and Chief whiplashed forward and back. Jeremy bounced and his feet hit the ground and were dragged forward . He was half dragging and half running as he tried to mount the vehicle once more. The carriage was now running faster than the rest of the traffic and was careening back and forth in the street. Only the curbing kept them on the road.
“You’ve got to steer this thing!” Chief Henry shouted.
“How?Where’s the reins?’ Rap answered.
“No reins. You use a tiller.”
“What’s that?”
“It looks like a handle! Should be right in front of you.”
They rolled out of the street and up onto the sidewalk. crashed into a building and smashing a large display window before bouncing off and back into the street.
“Naw!” Rap shouted. “It ain’t there.”
Henry reached forward. He couldn’t see it but he could feel the vertical lever. “Never mind. I got it!”
He jerked the tiller toward him and the carriage turned sharply to the right. The machine once again jumped the curb, spilled a fruit stand and bounced back into the street.
Jeremy, clinging for life on his perch at the rear of the carriage shouted. “What are you doing?”
“He can’t see where we’re going?” Rap shouted. His eyes were bulging out of his head and he felt sheer terror.
The machine was now heading for the other side of the street. “The other way, Henry,” Jeremy shouted.
Chief swiveled the tiller and the carriage barely missed the building on the other side of the street on the corner of Vanderventor. The vehicle slid around the corner and rolled on. With the help of Jeremy and Rap calling directions, Chief was now doing a passable job of steering. There was little traffic on this street, but the police wagon was still positioned there in front of the tenement house where Paco’s apartment was locat
ed. The fugitives were now heading straight for it.
Cyclone and Kitty were making their way back to Paco’s apartment. when they saw the police patrol wagon sitting outside. They immediately feared something was wrong. Then they heard the sound of the horseless carriage and the saw the hapless trio heading toward the wagon and them.
Farther up the street, they saw the detectives and policemen running in pursuit.
As the carriage with their friends passed the police wagon and then, them, Kitty and Cyclone broke into a run toward the police wagon.
Cyclone had his gun out by the time he and Kitty ran up to the police wagon. “Hands up and get off of that thing!” Cyclone shouted to the driver holding the reins.
The man was taken by surprise and immediately dropped the reins, raised his hands and started to step down. The horses stamped in place and the wagon wheels rocked a little back and forth.
Cyclone pulled the policeman’s weapon from his holster as the man’s foot hit the pavement. He gave a shove and the policeman sprawled into the middle of the street.
In the fleeting instant that he rolled, he saw the horseless carriage returning and bearing down on him. His arm went to his face and he screamed in terror, just as he rolled enough that the vehicle with the fleeing fugitives passed on by, barely missing him.
Seeing Cyclone and Kitty climb into the police wagon, Jeremy shouted. “Rap, Henry turn back!”
Henry twisted the tiller. The vehicle swerved and came back, passing the wagon on the other side and sped off down the street.
Cyclone had passed the policeman’s pistol to Kitty as she seated herself on the wagon bench. She leaned around the side of the wagon enclosure bringing the pistol up. She fired at the pursuers and they quickly spread out to both sides of the street seeking cover.
Meanwhile, Cyclone settled himself beside her, taking up the reins and whipping the team into motion.
They took off in pursuit of their companions. Once they could overtake the horseless carriage and get their friends aboard the police wagon, they would continue to make good their escape and leave Saint Louis behind. They would go back home and The Wildcats would ride again.
****
Chapter Twelve