The Bloomfield times. [volume] (New Bloomfield, Pa.) 1867-187?, 1870-06-07
A CLEVER CAPTURE.

4 WELL-KNOWN inspector of the
IN detective force once related to us
clever capture, effected by himself, of
daring thief, who had more than once
escaped from prison. The inspector him
self had considerable experience, and
tracked his man to a low public house !;
and, under pretense of being an old thief
himself, threw his companion off his
guard by relating anecdotes. He was
unarmed himself, and knew that the real
burglar-who was known to the fraternity
as Bill the Cracksman"-had a revolver
in his breast pocket, with the use of
which he was thoroughly acquainted; and
the question was how to arrest him single
handed. Story followed story, and rcmini-
scence Renaissance, until Bill and his
companion-who called himself Jerry
Blake-became as thick as members of
the formers profession was proverbially
supposed to become.
"Now," said Mr.. Blake, after a pause,
as a last bit of anecdote, I'll show you
how Joe the Tinman was took. He'd
swore as there wasn't any man in the
colony or out of it as would take him
single-handed Well, as the reward for
his capture was heavy one, a chap
named Simmons, who was then out of the
mounted police, determined to try it on.
So what does he do, knowing some Of
Joe's haunts, but bribes stockman, who
lived in lonely hut, on the side of a
deep gully among the hills, to let him
take the possession for week or SO. 1t
was hut where Joe was accustomed to
call when he wanted to get a fresh sup
ply ofrum, for the stockman had been a
convict like himself, and a pal of his =;
but, pal or no pal, he sold Joe this time
and no mistake"
"Td have blown his brains out if I'd
been joe" observed the cracksman with
a savage oath.
Il honor your sentiments" responded
Mr.. Blake; and from what know of
Joe he shared 'em. But, you see, when
he looked in one night at the hut, no
stockmau was there; but in his place
Simmons, looking the very picture of a
rough shepherd, was seated over the Gre
making tea and cooking damper."
Halloh where's the stockman here p
asked Joe, stalking into the hut and ap-
preaching the fire; for Joe want afeaDed
of the devil himself; besides, he was all
stuck around with bowie knives and six
shooters, so that he was caution to look
at.
Where's the stockman2" says he.
Simmons only looked up for minute;
then went on cooking the damper.
He's gone"
"Gone where-dead?'
"Pretty nigh it. He's down at the
station with marsh fever. I've been Or
dered up here in his place."
"And who may you be, mate, when
you're at home?" asked Joe, savagely,
for he was disappointed at losing his
friend.
When Pm at home," said Simmons
still busy with his damper, if home
means England, I might be lord mayor
Or chancellor of the exchequer, for any
chance l have of getting back there !;
but being here where l am, I'm only a
jailbird, like you, mate"
Joe, who wasn't accustomed to bold
speaking of this kind stepped back a
pace or two and laid his hand on six
shooter.
"Who do you take me for?" he asked
with an oath.
81 don't take you for any one but your
proper or your improper SELF" said Sim
mons quite unmoved, and filled two tin
mugs with the sweetened tea.
And who am II"
Joe the Tinman."
"Joe handled his pistol as one pre-
pared for action, but Simmons burst into
laugh.
Leave off handling your barking-iron,
hesaid, 'and take that mug of tea. I'd
advise you to put a taste Of rum in it,
for the nights anipper.
You know where the bottle is, so make
no bones about it, When old Mike that
was the name of the stockman-sent me
up here in his place, he didn't forget to
say who was his friends and best custo-