The Ransom of Red Chief

Bill Driscoll and myself were down south, in Alabama, when we thought of kidnapping someone. There was a town down there called Summit. Its citizens were farmers. Bill and I had six hundred dollars and we needed just two thousand dollars more to do some dishonest business in western Illinois. We talked it over on the front steps of the hotel where we were staying.

The love of children, we reasoned, was very strong in farm families, and kidnapping should do better in the country than in big towns. We knew that Summit could not get after us with anything stronger than policemen and dogs or perhaps an article in the weekly newspaper. So it looked good.

We selected for our victim the only child of Ebenezer Dorset. The father was a respectable citizen. The boy was ten years old. Bill and I thought that Dorset would give us a ransom of two thousand dollars. But wait till I tell you what happened…

About two miles from Summit there was a little mountain covered with pine tress. Behind the mountain there was a cave. That's where we put our food.

One evening we drove in an old car near old Dorset's house. The boy was in the street throwing rocks at a cat. "Hey, little boy!" shouted Bill. "Would you like to have a bag of candy and a nice ride?"

The boy threw a rock at Bill. "That will cost the old man an extra five hundred dollars," said Bill, getting out of the car. The boy started fighting, but we got him into the car and drove away. We took him to the cave. In the evening I drove the car to the little village five kilometers away where we had rented it, and walked back to the mountain.

Bill had scratches on his face, and the boy had two feathers in his red hair. He pointed a stick at me when I came up, and said, "Ha, hated paleface, do you dare to come into the camp of Red Chief?"

"He's all right now," said Bill. "We're playing Indians. I'm Old Hank, Red Chief's prisoner and I'm to be scalped (być oskalpowany) in the morning. Wow! That child can kick hard." Yes, the boy seemed to be enjoying himself. He forgot that he was a prisoner. He called me Snake-eye and said that I was to be burnt (być spalony) at sunrise.

Then we had supper. With his mouth full of bread and bacon, he began to talk. "I like this very much. I have never camped before. I hate going to school. Are there any real Indians in these woods? I want some more bacon. We had five dogs. Why is your nose so red, Hank? My father has a lot of money. Are the stars hot? I don't like girls. Why are oranges round? Have you got beds in this cave?" Every few minutes he remembered he was an Indian and shouted so loudly that Old Hank was afraid.

"Red Chief," I said to him, "would you like to go home?"

"No. What for? I have no fun at home. I hate going to school. I like camping. You won't take me back home again, Snake-eye, will you?"

"Not now," I said. "We'll stay here in the cave for some time."

"All right," he said. "That'll be fine. I have never had such fun."

I went to bed about eleven o'clock. We weren't afraid he would run away. He kept us awake for three hours jumping and shouting, as he imagined he heard robbers near the cave. At last I fell asleep.

In the morning I was awakened by loud screams from Bill. I jumped up to see what was wrong. Red Chief was sitting on Bill's chest with one hand in Bill's hair. In the other hand he had a sharp knife and was trying to take Bill's scalp. I got the knife away from the child and put him to bed again. But from that moment, Bill never closed an eye again in sleep as long as that boy was with us. I fell asleep for a moment, but then I remembered that Red Chief had said I was to be burnt at sunrise. I was not nervous or afraid. But I sat up and lit my pipe.

"Why are you getting up so early, Sam?" asked Bill.

"Me? I have a pain in my shoulder. I thought sitting up would do me good."

"You're a liar!" said Bill. "You're afraid. You were to be burnt at sunrise and you were afraid he'd do it. And he would if he could find a match. It's terrible, isn't it, Sam? Do you think anybody will pay us money to get this child back?"

"Sure," I said. "A kid like that is just the kind that parents love best. Now you and the Chief get up and cook breakfast while I go up on the top of this mountain to look at the village." I went up onto the top of the little mountain and looked down. I expected to see people armed with guns and knives and sticks looking for us, the kidnappers. But the village was very quiet. Perhaps, I said to myself, they don't yet know that the child has been kidnapped. And I went down the mountain to the cave to eat breakfast.

I found Bill in the cave breathing hard and the boy holding a big stone in his hand. "He put a hot potato down my back," explained Bill unhappily, "and mashed it with his food. So I smacked him."

The boy had a stone in his hand. I took it away from him. But the boy warned Bill, "No man ever struck Red Chief without getting hit back. Better be careful."

After breakfast Red Chief left the cave. "What's he up to now?" wondered Bill. "You don't think he'll run away, do you, Sam?"

"Not at all," I said. "But we must make some plans about the ransom. Summit seems to be very quiet. Perhaps they don't know yet that the boy is gone. His family may think he is spending the night with his aunt and uncle or one of his neighbors. Anyhow they will know today. Tonight we must write to his father demanding two thousand dollars."

Just then we heard a wild cry. A minute later a big stone hit Bill behind his left ear. He started up and then fell into the fire, knocking over a pot of hot water for washing the dishes. After some time Bill sat up.

"Take it easy," I said. "You'll come to your senses soon." I went out and caught the boy. "If you don't behave," I warned, "I'll take you straight home. Now, are you going to be good or not?"

"I was only having some fun. I didn't mean to hurt Old Hank. But why did he smack me? I'll behave, Snake-eye, if you won't send me home and if you let me be Black Scout today."

"I don't know that game," I said. "That's for you and Mr. Bill to decide. He'll play with you today. I'm going on business. Now you come in and

say you're sorry or I'll take you home at once."

He and Bill shook hands and then we wrote a letter to old Dorset:

Ebenezer Dorset,

Your boy is in a place far from Summit. It is useless for you or any detectives to try to find him. We demand fifteen hundred dollars for his return. If you agree to this, send your answer by a messenger tonight at half past eight. On the road to Poplar Cove [a town near Summit] there are three trees. Opposite to the third will be a small box. The messenger will put the answer in this box and return to Summit at once. If you pay the money, the boy will be returned to you safe and well and within three hours.

Two Desperate Men

I addressed the letter to Dorset and put it in my pocket.

I went to Poplar Cove and sat around the post-office and shops talking to the people who came there. One man said that he heard Summit was all upset because Dorset's boy had been lost or stolen. That was all I needed to know. I posted the letter and got back to the cave. I saw Bill in front of the cave. Behind him was the boy with a smile on his face. I told him we would get the ransom and be off with it this night. So Bill smiled at the child, who was behind him, and promised to play a Russian in the Japanese war with him.

At half past eight I was hiding behind the trees waiting for the messenger. Exactly on time a boy rode up the road on a bicycle, stopped at the box and put a piece of paper in it. I waited an hour and then took the letter out of the box and read this:

Two Desperate Men

Gentlemen,

I received your letter today by post. I think your demands are too high. And I want to make another proposition. You bring Johnny home and pay me two hundred and fifty dollars. You'd better come at night because the neighbors think he is lost and I don't know what they may do to the man who brings him back.

Very respectfully,

Ebenezer Dorset

I looked at Bill. "Sam," he said, "what's two hundred and fifty dollars, after all? We've got the money."

"OK," I said. " We'll take him home, pay the ransom, and get out of this part of the country."

We took him home that night. We told him that his father had bought him a silver rifle and a pair of moccasins. It was twelve o'clock when we knocked at Ebenezer's door. When the child found out that we were going to leave him at home, he began to scream and got hold of Bill's leg. His father tried to take him away. "How long can you hold him?" Bill asked.

"I'm not as strong as I used to be," said old Dorset, "but I think I can hold him for ten minutes."

"That's long enough," said Bill, "In ten minutes we'll be over the Mexican border."

Although it was dark and Bill was fat and not as good at running as I was, he was three kilometers out of Summit before I could catch up with him.