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Roy Glashan's Library
Non sibi sed omnibus
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NICK CARTER had just entered the private office of Inspector Byrnes, who was waiting to receive him.
"Ah, Nick, how are you?" said the genial inspector, shaking his caller warmly by the hand. "I sent for you because of a letter which I received this morning. There it is. Read it for yourself."
Nick took the letter—of which we will give only a part—and read as follows:
"We want you to send us a man who is sharper than lightning, truer than steel, as brave as a lion, and as fearless as death itself. Don't disguise the fact that three Pinkerton men have not only failed, but have been buried here, and that whoever takes the case takes his life in his hand, and will, in all probability, be killed. If you know of a man who, realizing fully the danger he incurs in coming here, is nevertheless willing to come, send him. If he succeeds, he can name his own reward; if he fails he will need none. We write to you as the leading detective official of this country, believing that if there lives a man who can fill the bill for us you will know him and send him here.
"We do not commit any of the facts of the case to this letter for obvious reasons. The man must come unannounced, and must make himself known to us in any way that he sees fit. We leave that to him and to you.
"Please inform us by letter of any action you may take in this matter. Very truly yours,
"BENTON HAWLEY,
"ANSON HOWARD,
"HARVEY DEAN." Com.
Nick returned the strange letter to the chief inspector without a word, and both were silent for a moment.
"Well, Nick, what do you think of it?" asked the inspector presently.
"It looks rather queer and somewhat overdrawn," said Nick.
"That's a fact, Nick."
"Do you know any of the men who signed the letter?"
"Yes; the first one."
"Who is he?"
"Benton Hawley once lived in New York, but he left here many years ago. He was a fine fellow when I knew him, but no one can say what may have happened since."
"Exactly."
'You are the only man I know who will fill the bill, Nick. What do you think of it?"
"I'll go. I want a change, and this thing just strikes my fancy."
"Good! Now I've got something more to say. There was another letter inclosed with this, and a check for $10,000. I was not to show the second letter or use the check until I had found the right man and he had agreed to go. The check is for expenses and has no reference to the reward, if you succeed."
"That's just the point; succeed in what?"
"My dear Nick, I don't know. That is the first thing that you will have to discover."
"Precisely. They hire a detective and give him $10,000 to find out what it is that they want to find out. If he finds that out, they offer a large reward if he finds out the other thing and escapes with his life. That's about the size of it, isn't it, inspector?"
The chief threw back his head and laughed heartily.
"You've hit it, Nick," he said. "They evidently need a detective badly."
"Well, I will go in a day or two."
"What shall I write Hawley?"
"Simply that you have received the check and put it through the bank."
"Good. Here it is. Take it. It is made payable to John Jones, and is certified by the Occidental Bank of San Francisco. I will indorse John Jones on the back for you, for such were the instructions in the letter."
Nick rose from his chair.
"This is the first time that I ever played 'Blind-Man's Buff' in dead earnest," he said, "and I rather like it. Much obliged to you, inspector, for sending for me. Good-by."
"Good-by, Nick. Don't leave your bones out there in Nevada."
"Not if I can help it, inspector."
The two great men shook hands heartily and parted, the inspector to forget the incident in the rush of business, and Nick to ponder over the strange case that had just been placed in his charge.
"The long and short of it up to date," he muttered, "is that I am paid $10,000 cash for going to Nevada and keeping myself from being killed—and I think I can do it."
HELLION CITY was a typical Nevada mining camp, and contained about thirty buildings, mostly of adobe—and nearly all devoted to the business of liquor-selling and card-playing.
It was the recognized rendezvous for the cowboys and miners who were scattered over a circle covering many leagues, of which it was the hub.
The regular inhabitants of the town numbered about one hundred, being all men with but two exceptions, of which one was a woman and the other a boy.
The woman—whose name was Juno—called June for short—was the proprietress of the most conspicuous gambling-house and gin-mill in Hellion City. She was a striking looking woman of middle age, dark and handsome, and she had the reputation of being quicker and surer with her six-shooter than any man in Nevada.
The boy to whom reference has been made was named Chick—but of him we will speak more definitely later.
The morning of July 1st saw a knot of men gathered about the door of June's saloon.
A placard had been tacked upon the side of the building, and they were spelling it out.
The placard read as follows:
TWENTY-ONE!
WARNING TO BENTON HAWLEY!
48 HOURS TO SKIP!
The aforesaid Hawley has been tried by the
Tribunal of Twenty-One and found guilty.
If he has not left Hellion City in forty-eight
hours the sentence will be executed.
THE SENTENCE IS DEATH!
HAWLEY, BEWARE!
21!
"Well, Ben Hawley," said Jake Larkin, the mayor, "what air ye goin' ter do 'bout it?"
"Nothing, Jake."
"Nothin'! D'ye mean ter say that ye ain't a-goin' ter light out?"
"That's exactly what I mean."
"Well, ye've got sand, Ben; thar's no denyin' that, an' as may'r I'll see that ye hev a fust-class funeral."
"Thanks, Jake. Wait till I'm dead, though."
"Dead! Why, ye'll be deadern a door-nail in less 'n seventy-two hours."
"I don't think so."
"Did ye ever know the 'Twenty-One' to fail?"
"Never."
"Remember Bill Seaman,' an' Jim Durkee, an' Phil Danforth?"
"Yes, and Hortone, and Zimmerman, and Jerome, and Kelly. I remember them all, Jake."
"Well, Ben Hawley, where air they. now? say!"
"Dead, Jake."
"Precisely; an' that's whar you'll be unless ye take warnin' by that air notice an' skip."
"I am going to stay right here, Jake."
"Boys," exclaimed Jake, "at the risk o' gittin' a-warn- in' myself, I'm a-goin' ter stand treat on that. Walk right in an tell June it's on me."
The second morning following the event related, Benton Hawley did not make his appearance.
Men glanced meaningly at each other, and at last a committee of five marched solemnly up the street and rapped at his door.
There was no answer, and presently they burst open the door and entered.
Benton Hawley was stretched upon his bed, with the hilt of a dagger protruding from his breast, and pinned to the blankets which half covered him was a square piece of paper on which was printed:
EXECUTED By 21.
The committee gazed in silence upon the corpse for several moments; then they marched solemnly back again to June's saloon.
"Dead," said Jake Larkin, briefly, in answer to the mute inquiries that were cast at him from the eyes of a dozen or more of his companions.
"Who'll be next?" asked one man with an ugly scowl on his brow.
"It might be you, Tom, or anybody in the camp. Thar's none of us safe here now'days, ef the Twenty-one happens to wanter git us out of the way," said one who had not yet spoken. 'Ben Hawley war as good a man as ever lived—."
"And if you gentlemen had any sand you would find some way to free yourselves of this curse, as well as to avenge the deaths of your friends."
The entire party turned in open-eyed and open-mouthed astonishment toward the man who had interrupted Dan Dempsey.
"Stranger," said Dan, "did you come here a-lookin' for fight?"
"No."
"Then ye'll have to take back wot ye said 'bout sand. I know es how I've got as much sand es the next one."
"I don't doubt it; my remark referred to all of you; so if I fight one, I'll have to fight the whole crowd. Take something with me first, and then if you insist upon a row, I'll try to accommodate you?"
They all shuffled up to the bar without waiting for a second invitation, and, with glass in hand, Jake Larkin took up the conversation.
"What's yer handle, stranger?" he asked, abruptly.
"I am called One."
"Eh?"
"One. The name was given me because I never miss, and it only takes one shot to lay my man. See?"
Jake grinned.
The stranger saw the grin and said:
"You evidently doubt me. You have a glass of whisky in your hand, I think."
"Yes."
"I will bet you drinks for the crowd that you can't carry that glass, which is only two-thirds full, at arm's length across this saloon without the whisky being spilt on the floor."
"Ho-ho!" laughed Jake, derisively. "D'ye think I shake es bad's that?"
"My bet holds good. Try it!"
"The whisky at arm's length, eh?"
"Yes, Go to that end of the room, and walk from there to me other end, holding the whisky out straight before you.'
"Here goes!" cried Jake.
Then holding the glass straight out in front of him at arm's length, he started.
So steady was his nerve, that the whisky did not even tremble in the glass, and a shout of derision went up at the stranger's foolish bet.
He remained perfectly motionless, however, until Jake was exactly opposite him.
Then his arm shot out, suddenly, and without warning.
There was a flash and a loud report. The glass in Jake's extended hand was shivered into a thousand fragments.
"That is why I am called One," said the stranger, coolly. "Gentleman, the drinks this time are on the Mayor of Hellion City, I believe."
"Stay," said the mayor, when he had partially recovered from his surprise. "How'd ye do that, eh? an' wher d'ye keep the gun? Thar warn't none in yer hand, an' thar ain't now."
It was true that the weapon had seemed to materialize in the stranger's grasp.
He had stood, empty-handed, until the instant when he was ready to shoot.
Then he had thrust his arm forward, the flash and report and the shivering of the glass had followed, and his hand had dropped again to his side, empty.
Dan Dempsey was brave enough, but he felt that he had no wish to insist upon a quarrel with a man who could shoot like that.
"Shake, pard," he said. "I ain't a-cherishin' any gore 'bout that air question o' sand, but ef thar ain't a notice posted fur you afore.long, fur speakin' that way, it'll be funny."
"A notice from whom?"
"From the Twenty-One."
Who and what are the Twenty-One?"
"Nobody knows, pard."
"I suppose some of the men you are with every day are members. Some of these very men here, for instance?"
"That's a lie an' a libel!" ejaculated a tall, lean individual who was known as Sandy, on account of the color of his hair.
The man who had called himself One glanced keenly at Sandy, and at length said, very quietly:
"How else would the Twenty-One know that I had made the objectionable remark?"
"Wal," retorted Sandy, "who d'ye think is a-go'in ter give it away? Me?"
"I don't know, I'm sure; perhaps."
"D'ye mean to call me a traitor?" yelled Sandy, placing his hand on the butt of his revolver.
"I haven't called you anything yet. You have called yourself one."
"You're a liar!"
"Am I?" asked Nick Carter, coolly—for, as the reader has suspected, One and Nick Carter were the same. "Take your hand away from the butt of that gun of yours, or you'll get hurt."
Nick was standing with his hands at his sides.
Sandy noticed the position, and already having his own hand on his pistol, thought it would be the easiest thing in the world to draw and get the drop on the impertinent stranger before he could protect himself.
He tried it.
He drew his hand up quickly, cocking the weapon as he did so.
Just as Sandy's hand reached the level of his chin, Nick's arm straightened out just as it had done before.
There was the same accompanying flash and report, followed by a loud yell of rage and pain from Sandy, and the revolver that he had held in his hand dropped to the floor unused.
Nick's hands were again hanging at his side, empty.
There was not a sign of a weapon about him anywhere.
"I told you that you would get hurt," he said, coolly. "You will begin to believe me by the time you get a chunk of lead through your body instead of through the joint of your thumb."
Sandy's face was distorted with rage.
"I ain't done with you yet, Mister One," he shouted.
"No? Well, I'm here. What are you going to do?"
"Nothin', now. You've got the drop on me, an'—"
There was aloud laugh from the others, for to all appearance Nick was defenseless.
"He's right, gentlemen," said Nick, slowly. "I always have the drop on such fellows as he is. Go on, red head, and tell me what you are going to do."
"You'll find out soon enough."
"When? To-morrow morning when we find a notice posted on the door telling me to leave or prepare to die?"
"I ain't said nothin' bout any notice," growled Sandy.
"No? Well, I have."
"What do you know 'bout notices? You're a stranger, you are."
"Yes, I'm a stranger, but I've tumbled to one thing that the other gentlemen here don't know."
"W hat's that?"
"That you, red top, are a spy for the Twenty-One."
"You're a liar. You're one yerself."
"Am I? Listen, I'll give you a message for your friends."
"I tell you—"
"Wait; I am talking now. Go to your friends and tell them that you met a man to-day who calls himself One. Tell them that I have come here to stay, and that they can't drive me out. Tell them that I shall stay until the entire twenty-one are dead, either hanged or shot. Tell them there is a man in the world who defies them all, and that from this time on they're my meat. I am going to tear them apart, root and branch, one against twenty-one!"
A shout of admiration went up from the group, but Sandy had yet another word to say.
"I know who he is, boys!" he cried. " He's the captain of the Twenty-One. Don't he call himself Number One, an' ain't that proof enough?"
Angry looks were turned upon Nick.
Sandy's remark was suggestive.
NICK was quick to see the effect of Sandy's remark, and he replied to it at once.
His arm straightened out again, and this time his hand contained a weapon which pointed straight at Sandy's heart.
"Get down on your knees," he said, "and ask my pardon. Quick, or I'll bore a hole through you. I can stand being called a liar, but I won't be classed with a gang of cut-throats and thieves who are too cowardly to attack a man unless he's in bed and defenseless. Down, I tell you!"
Thoroughly cowed, the fellow dropped upon his knees and murmured something which sounded like an apology.
"Now skip!" said Nick, sternly.
"What for?" asked Sandy, blankly.
"Skip, I tell you. We don't want any spies of the Twenty-One around here. Go and give my message to your captain, and if you care to live, keep shy of Hellion' City. You hear me!"
Sandy slowly rose to his feet and went out of the saloon.
"Gentlemen," said Nick to the others; "I'm a stranger to you all, but I've come to stay, and I'm not going to permit any twenty-one men alive to drive me out of Hellion City. There's room here for us all."
Jake Larkin stuck out his big hand impulsively.
"Shake, Pard One," he said. "You've got sand an' plenty of skill to back it, but them fellers'll be too much for you, I'm afraid."
"Bah!" said Nick.
"That's all right, Pard One. Jest es good men es you hev said that afore ye, an' now they're sleepin' under the daisies."
"To-morrow morning," continued the chief official of Hellion City, "there'll be a notice on this here front door a-tellin' you to skip."
"I won't skip."
"I know ye won't; I kin see that with half an eye. Ye'll stay, jest es some others has, and in two 'r three days we'll all attend yer funeral."
Nick had won over the rough element of Hellion City at once. Men of that class admire bravery above all things, and they saw plainly that the flashily dressed stranger, who, from his appearance was evidently a sport, and did not fear anything.
After leaving Inspector Byrnes in New York, Nick had adopted the character of a very old man.
Arrived at Hellion City, he had at once sought out Benton Hawley, and from him had learned all the particulars which were known regarding the dreaded Twenty-one.
Mysterious orders were posted frequently, warning certain ones to whom the fraternity objected, to leave the country or be killed, and in every case, when they had not left they had been killed.
Stage-coaches had been "held up" on the trails; ranches owned by rich cattle-men within two or three days' ride of Hellion City had been visited and the owners robbed.
Sixty-five miles south of Hellion City, in the State of California, was a ranch owned by a man named Sepulvida.
Jose Sepulvida was a Mexican by birth, but had been a resident of California at the time of the proclamation from the President, which made citizens of the United States of all Mexicans residents of California who cared to remain, and become such.
Sepulvida had been a very rich man.
The Don—as he was called—had a daughter just past sixteen years of age, who from her grandfather was to inherit an enormous fortune when she became twenty.
The fact was generally known and the terrible Twenty-One had made the most of the information.
One night they swooped down upon Buena Vista Ranch, murdered Don Jose, without mercy, stripped the place of everything valuable that it possessed, burned the buildings to the ground, and carried the daughter Angela away into captivity.
It was plainly their intention to keep her captive until she reached the age of twenty, when, as the price of her liberty, they would demand her inheritance.
The Don had revived sufficiently the following day, when Benton Hawley, Anson Howard, and Harvey Dean had happened that way, to tell them the whole story, and to make them trustees over the remainder of his wealth, the entire amount of which was to be devoted to the work of rescuing his daughter and restoring her to her relatives, who lived in Mexico.
In substance, the above was the story that Nick had heard from Benton Hawley, when, as an old man, he had presented himself at Hellion City.
After his interview with Hawley, he went away as he came.
In a mountain canon, secure from observation, he changed his disguise, so that five days later when he rode into Hellion City in time to participate in the scenes already described, he was the sport who had given his name as One.
He wore a short jacket trimmed with gold braid, trousers of buckskin with silver pieces down the seams, and a broad brimmed hat of Mexican make, also gaudily decorated with gold and silver.
A black mustache and goatee completed the disguise, and he was "One, The Sport."
A remarkable—and noticeable—thing for that country, was that he seemed to be unarmed, for he never had a weapon in sight.
One against twenty-one were big odds, but Nick deemed it best to defy the gang of cut-throats from the outset.
By common consent, the detective had become the proprietor of Hawley's cabin which was now tenantless, and shortly after noon he went there alone and locked himself in.
Upon the occasion of Nick's visit to Hawley, the latter had shown him a secret connected with the cabin, which was the oldest one in Hellion City, which made Nick glad indeed to become its sole inhabitant.
The cabin was built over the long disused shaft of an old mine, and by moving the bed away from its place in the corner, a flat rock was revealed which could be lifted, by the exertion of considerable strength.
Below was a deep hole, as black as night, which Hawley had never explored.
Nick had no sooner entered the cabin, and locked the door, than he moved the bed away from the corner, and then lifted the flat stone from its place.
He soon rigged a place to fasten a rope, and. then, with his serviceable little dark-lantern in hand, he slid down the rope to a depth of about twenty feet.
An examination of the sides proved that he was really in the shaft of a long deserted mine, which followed what is called a "Mother" vein of silver, rich and pure.
A tenth part of the silver had not been removed, and Nick had a fortune in his grasp.
Two galleries, just wide enough to accommodate his body, led off from the bottom of the shaft.
He followed one of them about twenty feet, where it ended in a sort of pocket about six feet in diameter, and ten feet high.
It went no farther and Nick returned to the other gallery.
That, he quickly discovered, followed the "Mother" vein which ascended at a steep incline.
He was actually traveling between walls of silver, for the miner who had done the work (which had doubtless taken years to accomplish), had only pierced the very center of the vein, and had taken only a fraction of the great wealth that it contained.
Up—up, sometimes with extreme difficulty, Nick made his way.
At last he felt a draught of fresher air, and knew that he was nearing an opening.
Nick went on, and presently came to a huge rock, around which the excavation had dug a narrow passage.
Nick squeezed himself through with difficulty, and found that he had pierced the mountain at a sharp angle, and was high up on one of the precipitous sides of a narrow canon, or more properly speaking, fissure which opened into the mountain from the side directly opposite Hellion City.
From the latter place to the mouth of the fissure around the mountain was a distance of two miles, while by entering his cabin and passing through the gallery, he could reach it by traversing less than half the distance.
He saw that he could descend to the bottom of the canon easily, and that he was secure there from observation, for nobody ever thought of visiting the spot.
Then he returned to the cabin.
Nick did not again go out until after midnight, and then by way of the gallery and fissure.
In a few minutes more he stood at the mouth of the narrow canon, two miles from Hellion City.
With extreme caution, and taking care to keep himself in the shadows all the time, Nick approached the town.
At last he reached one corner of the saloon, and paused close beside the building, within fifteen feet of the door.
"If I am warned to-night, I will know who does it," mused Nick, "for if they know anything about me at all, they think that I am securely asleep in my cabin."
An hour passed when suddenly a form loomed out of the darkness.
THE man paused before the door and seemed to listen.
Then he gave three light but distinct taps upon the panel, waited an instant, and gave three more.
Several seconds passed, and then the door was opened from the inside, and the man disappeared.
"So," muttered Nick; "my lady June is concerned in the affairs of the Twenty-One.
"I wonder if she is the chief of the concern? I wonder—"
The door opened softly, and the man who had entered the saloon so stealthily, came out.
Then he undid a roll of paper, and with a quick motion —for it seemed to be already prepared—fastened it to the panel; then he turned and hurried away. But Nick was after him as silently as a shadow.
He was led about a quarter of a mile, when suddenly the man who had posted the notice, stopped.
Before him was a horse, and having no suspicion that he was followed, the man was about to mount and ride away, when he heard a noise which caused him to wheel and place his hand on the butt of his revolver.
But he did not have time to draw.
Nick was upon him with a giant-like spring, and the next instant the unknown man was lifted from his feet and hurled to the ground with a terrific force.
For the first time in his life, Nick came very near finding his match.
The struggle continued furiously for several minutes, and then the detective's skill triumphed.
Nick soon relieved the man of all his weapons, and then sternly ordered him to put his hands together behind him.
"You're the first man who ever downed me in a fair wrestle," he muttered, as Nick tied his hands with a piece of rawhide. "What are you going to do with me, now you've got me?"
"You'll find that out soon enough. Now march!"
"Say, what'll you take to let up on me"? asked the man sullenly.
"Nothing."
They went on together in silence until near the door of June's saloon.
Suddenly Nick spoke.
"Til let you go on one condition," he said. "That you will give me the names of the Twenty-One, and tell me where I can find them all."
"I won't do it! Fire away with your funeral, for I s'pose you're calculatin' on having one."
"You bet!"
They reached the door, and Nick then utilized the lariat which he had taken from the unknown man's saddle.
He wound it round and round the man until he had the appearance of a mummy, and was unable to move a muscle.
Then he laid him upon the ground and leisurely approached the door upon which the notice was posted.
TWENTY-ONE!
The man who calls himself One, the Sport, must leave this region inside of twenty-four hours, or die! This is a decree which never fails. Death to One, the Sport!
21!
Such was the notice which Nick read.
Then he took a pencil from his.pocket and wrote under the figures, "See the other side."
Tearing the notice from the door he reversed it, an wrote on the other side:
"This is the man who posted the warning. He is a member of the Twenty-one. He was captured in the act by One, the Sport.
One Against Twenty."
That done, the detective pinned the placard to the breast of the man he had captured, with the warning side out.
He then picked the man up and stood him against the saloon door helpless, and with the damnatory placard upon him.
"There," he said, "it lacks about an hour of the time when Hellion City comes to life. When it does, they will find you here, and I'm offering odds that you will dance on nothing in short order."
He put a gag into the man's mouth and then withdrew, out of sight, in a shadow.
Nick fully expected that June would attempt to liberate the captive, and if she tried it, he wanted to catch her in the act.
But if she saw the turn that affairs had taken, she made no sign.
Soon after daylight, noises began to be heard around the town.
Nick kept back out of sight and waited.
Jake, the mayor, was the first to appear, and as he drew near, he espied the mummy-like individual with the placard pinned to his breast.
"Hello!" he exclaimed; "what's that?"
He drew nearer, curiously.
"Blamed if 'taint a man!" he ejaculated, "an' with one o' them cussed notices pinned on to him. Wonder if it's the sport, an' they laid him out fust an' writ the warnin' arterwards?"
Nearer yet.
"No, 'taint the sport. Well, I'm blowed, I am! Here's a cuss all tied up beootiful! fit as fur a funeral, twelve-pound shot an' all, barrin' the hammick."
He paused and read the warning, spelling it out with some difficulty.
At last he came to "see the other side."
He was about to take the notice down when he suddenly changed his mind.
In the meantime the unknown was scowling at him and making guttural sounds from behind the gag to which Jake paid little or no attention.
"There, don't try to speak, cos 'taint no use," he said, finally. "I'm jest a-goin' to leave ye as I found ye, until the boys show up. Then we'll send for the marshal an' set on ye, as the coroner says. You're a beauty, you air, with them whiskers and tresses. Here comes Pokey Bland now."
Pokey came, and presently others, but the marshal did not appear.
Finally, when there were a dozen men there—the regular morning frequenters of June's place—the marshal was sent for.
Presently, however, the man who had been sent to fetch him returned and said that he was not to be found—that his cabin was empty.
"Then," said Jake, "in the absence of the marshal I will proceed with the investigation as mayor. Boys, take off the notice an' read wot's on the other side."
The notice was quickly removed, and the lines which Nick had written were read aloud.
Their astonishment knew no bounds.
The powers of One, The Sport, went up at once, and their anger at the bound and helpless man was intense.
Two or three drew their revolvers, and were for shooting him then and there, but Jake said, wait.
"Where's the sport?" he asked.
"Here!" said Nick, stepping out of his place of concealment.
"Three cheers for One!" cried Pokey.
They were given with a will.
"Is all this true?" asked Jake.
"Every word of it," replied Nick.
"Then the sentence of this court is that the man who posted that notice shall be hung at once!"
"DO you know who he is?" asked Nick.
"No; do you?"
"Who is he?"
"Take the gag out of his mouth and ask him."
The gag was removed, but the man would not speak.
"Pull off his false whiskers and the wig," continued Nick.
They were removed, and then a bawl of astonishment went up which discounted the first one.
The man before them was no other than Sol Simmons, the marshal of Hellion City.
"So you're one of 'em, air ye, Sol?" asked the mayor, coolly.
"No, I ain't!" shouted the marshal. "That feller thar wot calls himself One put this job up on me."
"He did, did he? Well, Sol, wot's the use in lyin' when ye aint got but a few minutes to live, say?"
"You dassent hang me."
"Dassent, dassent I? Well, you'll see. Boys, get a rope."
A lariat was quickly procured, and the noose was put around the marshal's neck.
The other end was thrown over the arm to which June's sign was fastened, and several grasped it and stood ready to haul away when the mayor should give the word.
"Wait one minute," said Nick.
Then to the marshal, he added:
"We will let you go on one condition."
"What?"
"That you give the whole thing away, and tell—"
Nick's voice was interrupted by the crack of a rifle.
At the same instant, Sol Simmons' head fell forward on his breast, and blood flowed from a hole in his forehead.
He died instantly.
The men who were ready to hang him, for an instant stood as though spell-bound.
A little puff of smoke, slowly rising over the top of a clump of bushes a hundred yards away, told plainly enough from whence the bullet had come, and they all dashed toward it.
But when they reached the bushes there was nobody there.
There was no doubt that the Twenty-One had caused their captive comrade to be shot, fearing that at the last moment his courage would give way, and he would betray them.
Nick departed soon after, and went at once to his cabin.
On the ground in front of his door was crouched a boy.
He was a shock-headed, ragged fellow, but his eyes shone with unusual brightness, and his face was intelligent beyond his years, which could not have numbered more than seventeen.
"Hello, boy!" said Nick.
"Chick."
"Chick, eh? Well, who is Chick?"
"Me."
"You don't say so!"
"Yes. You're the sport, ain't you?"
"Yes."
"Well, this is fur you."
He handed Nick a sealed envelope which was addressed to "One, The Sport."
The detective tore it open and read:
"One:
"There are now twenty of us, instead of twenty-one. You are condemned to death for the killing of the marshal. You shall die. You cannot escape, save in one way. Join the Twenty-one and you will be spared. Refuse, and nothing can save you. If you consent, come to the mouth of Rock Canon to-night at twelve.
"Twenty-One."
"Where did you get this, Chick?" asked Nick, when he had finished reading.
"Man gave it to me."
"Where?"
"'Bout a mile up the trail."
"What kind of a looking man was he?"
"Same kind as other men."
"Was he tall, or short?"
"Neither."
"Light, or dark?"
"Neither."
"Did he say anything to you when he gave you the letter for me?"
"Yes."
"Well, what did he say?"
"Told me he'd cut my throat ef I didn't carry the letter straight."
"Do you know who he was?"
"No."
"Would you know him if you should see him again?"
"You bet I would."
"Are you fond of money?"
"Say, do you think I look like a fool, heigh?"
"No; but—"
"I am fond of money."
"Well, find the man who gave you that letter for: me, and lead me to him,and I will give you a thousand dollars."
"Wot—a hull thousand?"
"Sure."
"All fur me?"
"Every cent."
"Anybody in your house, pard?"
"No."
"Let's go in."
"Why?"
"I want to earn that thousand."
"You don't expect to find the man in my house, do you?"
"No."
"What then?"
"When I git whar nobody ain't a-goin' ter hear, I kin tell ye whar you kin find him."
"Are you sure, Chick?"
"Say, do I look like a liar?"
"No; you do not."
"Wal I ain't."
"If you tell me the story straight and it turns out all right, you shall have two thousand instead of one. Now come in."
Nick led the way, and they entered the house.
As soon as they were inside, Chick made a business-like inspection of every possible place for an eavesdropper to hide, and when thoroughly satisfied that there was no one there to hear what he had to say he turned to the detective.
"Say, pard," he said, wagging his head knowingly, and with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, "the galoot wot gin me that letter knowed I couldn't read, or maybe he'd ha' brung it hisself. He war a little feller fur a man, and a big one for a woman; ketch on?"
"No—not yet."
"You're stupid, you are! I said he war a little feller fur a man an' a big one fur a woman, see?"
"Yes; well?"
"Say, do you ever go to June's?"
"Yes."
"You kin see him there any time when the place is open."
"Oh!"
"He's the cap'n of the Twenty-One."
"Exactly."
"An' he bosses June's saloon, too."
"I begin to catch on, now, Chick."
"Purty near time ye did. Say?"
"Well?"
"Ef anybody knowed wot I've told you, I wouldn't give a picayune fur my chances o' livin' twenty hours longer."
"Nobody will know it, Chick. I suspected as much be-fore you told me. Now tell me how you knew?"
"Cos I've got eyes an' sense."
"Do you know any more about the Twenty-One?"
"Lots!"
"Where they meet and when?"
"Ye-up."
"Will you take me there some time?"
"Nope!"
"Why?"
"Dassent."
"Where do you live, Chick?"
"Anywhere I happen to be."
"Haven't you any place you call home?"
'Yes; an old Mexican dug-out on the mountain."
"How do you get your living?"
"Anyhow. Steal, when I can't do nothin' else."
"Do you belong to the Twenty One?"
"Nope. Wish I did."
"Why?"
"Git plenty to eat then, maybe."
"How would you like to live with me"
"Dassent."
"Why not?"
"You've been warned, an' the galoots 'u'd kill me along with you."
"Pshaw! I thought you had some grit."
"Have. Say! what d'ye want me to do?"
"Take care of my horse, run errands, and fight for me if necessary."
"Wot do I git fur all that?"
"A home, plenty to eat, good clothes, and kind treatment. When I go away I will take you with me if you are a good boy. You shall have—"
"Hold on, pard; that's enough. Say! d'ye mean all that?"
"Every word."
"An? all I've gotter do is to be faithful an' do's I'm told?"
"Precisely."
The boy stuck out his grimy hand as if impelled by a sudden impulse.
"Shake!" he said. "I'm wid ye in thick an' thin!"
LATE that same afternoon a stranger staggered into June's saloon.
He was a man past middle age, and, to judge from his appearance, he had not drawn a sober breath for many years.
Staggering to the bar, he said:
"Madam, do you ever judge a man by his appearance?"
"Sometimes," replied June.
"It is a great mistake. I'll prove it. Do I look as though I knew anything?"
"Not much."
"Yet I am possessed of an excellent education. Do I look as though I knew how to ask a lady a civil question and pay her a compliment at the same time?"
"No, you do not."
"Yet I can. I will prove it. Madam, will you confer upon me the great honor of permitting me to drink a glass of whisky to your health and beauty?"
"Yes—when you pay for it."
"But that is impossible, since I have no money."
"No money, no drink."
"May I tell you a secret?"
The bummer leaned forward and half whispered in a tone that nobody but June could hear:
"Shall I ask the captain of the Twenty-One for a drink?"
June started as though she had been stung.
Her hand sought the place where she kept her revolver, but a sharp word spoken in a low tone made her raise her eyes, and she saw that the bummer was prepared for her, and he held a six-shooter so that it covered the proprietress of the saloon.
"Don't draw, madam," he said, coolly. "I have come here to serve your interests, not to balk them. All I want is whisky to drink and I'll never open my lips. I'm hunting for a feller who has been here."
"Who?"
"He calls himself One, The Sport."
"He is here now."
"What, in this saloon?"
"No, in town. You will find him at his cabin. But before you stir you must tell me what you know about the Twenty-One."
"Madam, I know nothing except what One, The Sport, has told me. We're old chums. We heard about the Twenty-One and he came here to kill their captain and then take his place, but he found out that the captain is a woman, so he's fighting the whole gang."
"The captain a woman!"
"Yes; named June. Yourself."
She laughed uneasily.
"That's a good joke," she said.
"Rather. By the way, do I get that drink?"
June put out a bottle and a glass without a word.
Just as he drained the glass the door opened suddenly and the boy Chick rushed in.
"Hello, June!" he exclaimed. "I'm a-workin' fur the Sport now, an' he's sent you a love letter. Here 'tis."
He tossed an envelope toward the woman, who took it and broke the seal.
As she read, her face became pale, and the eyes of the old bummer never left her for an instant.
"The man is a devil," she muttered. Then turning again to Chick, she said:
"Tell him; 'all right.'"
"By-by, June," and Chick left the saloon as suddenly as he had entered it.
The letter that he had delivered read as follows:
"Your note asking me to join the Twenty-One received. I decline.
"ONE."
No one paid much attention to the bummer. However, it was presently discovered that he was gone, and-had any body followed him they would have: been taken to the mouth of Rock Canon, and thence to the little opening which led into the gallery of the old mine.
There he discarded his rough clothes and washed his face, thus transforming himself into "One, The Sport," with marvelous quickness.
"Good. It will work now. To-night they will endeavor to put me out of the way."
Then Nick hurried to the cabin, after which he went to the saloon for a while. When he returned to his cabin, he shut the door and lighted his pipe.
"Chick," he said, "they are on my trail to-night."
"Ye-up."
"And instead of their laying me out, I'm going to do the trick for them."
Presently Nick set to work manufacturing a dummy, which he dressed in the clothes of One, The Sport, and laid on the bed with its face to the wall.
"Now, Chick," said the detective, "go down to June's and buy me a flask of brandy. Tell June that I want the best, because I am sick. While you are talking to her, yawn two or three times with all your might. Do you understand?"
"Yes—but why."
"I bought a flask of whisky of her to-day. It was drugged to make us sleep, and I want her to think we have taken it. Now go."
Chick went off on a run.
He was gone but a very short time, and when he returned, he said:
"She wouldn't take no pay, pard, cos you was sick, see?"
Nick smiled, touched his tongue to the brandy, and nodded his head.
At midnight he raised the stone in the floor and motioned to Chick to follow him.
They made their way through the gallery into the canon, and thence along it until near the mouth.
There Nick paused.
"Chick," he whispered, "can you thrown a riata*?"
* Greaser term for lasso.
"You bet! I kin beat em all at that."
Nick took one from under his coat and handed it to the boy.
"Don't use it until I tell you to," he said, "but when the time comes, throw it straight."
"You bet!"
When they reached the mouth of Rock Canon, two men stood there, talking.
They soon set off in the direction of Hellion City, and Nick and the boy crept after them.
When the men reached the cabin of the Sport, his companions were but a few yards behind them.
The men paused in front of the door and tapped lightly upon the casing.
There was, of course, no reply.
"Sound asleep," muttered one of them.
He took a huge bunch of keys from his pocket, and in another moment opened the door.
As he pushed it open, he stepped back again into the darkness, but there was no sign of life from within, and after waiting two or three moments, he entered.
Then Nick seized the boy by the arm and whispered in his ear:
"Can you throw your riata in this light?"
"You bet!"
"WHEN I give you the word," said Nick, "I want you to put your noose over that fellow's head and choke him hard."
"Right, pard; I'll do it."
"Don't miss!"
"I never do."
Suddenly they saw a light flash up in the cabin. The assassin had struck a match, the better to see his way in the darkness. A moment later the light went out and the man appeared at the door-way.
"I've done it," he said.
"Put the ticket on him?"
"Yes."
"How about the kid?"
"He ain't here."
"Smart kid," and both men chuckled over their pleasantry.
"Call the cap'n," said one of them.
The other gave a low whistle which brought an immediate response from a point near by.
A moment later a form appeared from behind the next cabin and rapidly approached them.
When near enough, he halted and asked:
"Is the job done?"
"Yes."
"Ticketed?"
"Yes."
"The kid?"
"Ain't thar."
"Go and take another look to make sure he's dead, and then light out for headquarters."
"All right, cap."
The man they called captain turned and went hurriedly away while the assassin again entered the cabin.
"Now get ready, Chick," said the detective in a whisper.
"Ready, pard."
"Let her go!"
There was a swishing noise through the air as Chick threw his riata.
The man who stood at the door of the cabin heard it and tried to dodge.
But he was too late.
The noose or loop was accurately thrown, and settled over his head, and around his neck, like the coil of a serpent.
The next instant Chick gave a violent jerk, dragging the man to the ground, and choking him so quickly that he could not say a word or utter a sound.
With one leap Nick was upon him, and with one blow of his fist upon the temple, the would-be murderer was struck senseless.
"Tie him with the riata, Chick," whispered the detective, and then with another leap he reached the door of his cabin.
The man inside appeared at the same time.
"What's the matter?" he said.
"Somebody's coming," replied Nick, in a whisper.
"Who"
"I!"
With another bound Nick was upon his prey.
He seized him by his throat and pressed him backward upon the ground.
In a second he had pulled the weapons from the fellow's belt, and forced a gag between his teeth, effectually preventing him from making any alarm.
The whole thing, from the instant when Chick threw the riata, had not taken fifteen seconds, and the two men were securely bound and helpless in the hands of the dreaded "One, The Sport."
Nick bound a handkerchief over the would-be murderer's eyes so that he could not see.
Then lifting him in his arms as though he were a baby, he carried him three times around the cabin, then into it, and lifting the stone, lowered him to the bottom of the shaft
Returning, he found that the man he had struck had not regained consciousness, and raising him he put him also down the shaft.
Then he closed and locked the door, and accompanied by Chick descended to where the two men were lying, bound and utterly helpless.
One after the other he carried them into the little gallery which ended in the pocket already described.
There he had found, a few days before, a large iron ring fastened into the rock, as though the former proprietor of the place had kept some kind of a wild animal chained there.
Nick was not slow to utilize it.
There was a chain in the cabin, and he had a large supply of handcuffs and anklets which he had brought with him.
With those, and the chains, the two prisoners were soon so securely fastened that there was no possibility of escape.
Both men were strangers to Nick, and after removing the bandage and the gag from the one who had done the fake killing, he asked as sternly as his character of the bummer would permit:
"What is your name?"
"Jim Herrick."
"Well, Jim Herrick, you will have to swing for this night's work."
"Can't swing but once," returned the other, doggedly.
"You have murdered my friend. Do you want to save your neck?"
"Yes. Who be you?"
"I'm the bummer; the Sport's friend. I'll let you live on one condition."
"What one?"
"That you will betray your gang of Twenty One—or rather, Eighteen."
"See you cussed fust."
"You won't do it, eh?"
"No."
"Not if I starve you to death?"
"No."
By that time the other had recovered his senses.
He opened his eyes in a dazed sort of way, but in a moment realized that he was not only a prisoner but that he had been caught red-handed.
Nick was a good judge of physiognomy, and he plainly saw that the second man did not possess the dogged courage and obstinacy of the other.
"How is it with you?" he said.
"What?"
"I'm going to starve you fellows until you tell me where I can find your companions. If you will betray them I'll let both go."
"Let's do it, Jim."
"Shut up!" retorted Jim. "You're a nice brother, you are!"
"Are you Jim Herrick's brother?" asked Nick.
"Yes."
"What's your name?"
"Bob."
"A pretty pair, truly. Well, good-night. I'll leave you to think it over for about twenty-four hours. You'll be hungry by that time."
"Curse you!" cried Jim.
"Oh! by the way, there is one point for you to think over," continued Nick. "If any of your friends happen to kill me you will starve anyway, because nobody will ever find you here."
"Where are we?" asked Bob.
"Don't you know a deserted mine when you see one?" asked Nick. 'You live in one, don't you?"
The shot told.
Neither of the men answered, but Nick saw by the sudden start that Bob gave, that he had hit the nail on the head.
He was satisfied now that the rendezvous of the Twenty-One was in a deserted mine in that locality.
He turned upon his heel to leave them, when Jim exclaimed:
"Say! why do you want to get onto the gang? Yer friend, One, is dead."
"Yes, but I'm going to finish his work. Good-night, boys."
He left them and returned to the cabin.
It wanted about an hour of daylight, and so he prepared his breakfast, which he and Chick heartily enjoyed.
Dawn was just breaking when they finished.
"Now, Chick," he said, "light out. Show up at June's soon after the boys begin to come in for their morning drinks, and ask for me."
"All right, pard."
"Get 'em all worried, and steer them up here so that they will think I'm dead on the bed. I'll be there, too, but I want to do the work. When they come, you enter the cabin ahead of them, and get the ticket which Jim left on the dummy. That will prevent them from making a close scrutiny, and I want them all to think for a few hours that I'm dead. Understand?"
"You bet!"
"All right. Go, now!"
Chick departed, and very soon after Nick passed through the gallery, after locking the door on the inside, and ere long was in Rock Canon.
He walked leisurely, using up a couple of hours.
As he drew near his cabin in walking down the trail, he saw a crowd of men approaching his door from the other way.
Quickening his pace, he met them just as they reached the cabin.
There was a short parley at the door, but finally it was forced open, and the supposed dead body of "One, The Sport," was seen lying on the bed fully dressed, and with the dread ticket pinned to his coat.
Chick darted ahead and seized the ticket, barring the way of the others. '
"Stone dead!" he said. "They've done fur the Sport, pards. Let's go back to June's an' have a drink at his expense, 'cause I've got a gold piece wot he guv me yesterday."
The cabin door was locked, and they all returned to June's, believing that "One, The Sport," was a dead man.
As the bummer left the saloon, he made a sign to the boy, who followed him without being noticed by the others.
"Bring them all up to lay me out for the funeral, in an hour," he whispered.
It did not take him long to enter the old mine, and make his way through the shaft to the interior of the cabin.
There, he quickly transformed himself into "One, The Sport" again, and the dummy was no more.
The only injury he had sustained was a hole through his waistcoat, made by the assassin's knife.
A FEW moments later he heard them all coming.
Smiling, he lighted his pipe, and picking up an old paper, engaged himself busily in reading it.
Presently they reached the door, Jake, the mayor, being in advance of the others.
He pushed open the door to enter. He crossed the threshold, but there he paused.
Nick did not look up, but the mayor's eyes grew as big as saucers.
With an expression of dismay, he put up his hand and wiped away the beads of cold sweat that had started out suddenly upon his forehead. His chin dropped and he shook all over like one with the ague.
"Excuse me," he murmured.
Then slowly, and like one almost bereft of understanding, he backed out of the door.
As soon as he was again clear of the threshold, he uttered a yell that would have done credit to a Comanche Indian, and started on a dead run for June's saloon, crying: "I've got 'em agin! I've got 'em agin!"
"Wot's he got?" asked Chick, innocently.
"The jim-jams," replied Pokey. "He's had 'em twice. He's gunnin' fur a drink now!"
"He'll get it fore long ef he goes like that," said Chick.
Pokey was the next one to enter the cabin, and he did so with all the dignity he could command.
But the dignity left him very suddenly as he passed the door-way.
The scene affected him differently.
He did not pause to apologize, but he turned a back-somersault out of that door, landed flat on his face, and with a scream like a locomotive in distress, leaped to his feet and started away at a three-minute gait in pursuit of Jake.
"Guess he's got 'em too," muttered Chick, with a broad grin. "Walk right up, gentlemen. Here's where you 'set em' cheap, 'thout spendin' a life-time in the effort. Who's the next victim?"
The others—a dozen in number—gazed after the flying form of Pokey in unconcealed astonishment, and then they glanced at the cabin door.
It stood wide open, but the window-shutters were closed, and they were therefore unable to see the interior distinctly.
"Something's wrong in there, sure!" muttered one.
"Ghost, maybe," ventured another.
Curiosity proved greater than fear, and in a body they drew near the door.
In the meantime Nick had risen, and just as they reached the threshold, he stepped into the open door-way and confronted them.
The effect was wonderful.
To a man, they turned and fled precipitately for June's saloon.
Nick laughed heartily.
"I haven't had so much fun in a good while," he said. "Now, come, Chick; I want a little more."
He left the cabin and sauntered slowly toward June's.
There was nobody outside, and all were so busily engaged in relating their particular version of the extraordinary sight they had witnessed, that nobody noticed that "One, the Sport," had entered until he stood among them.
Then, as before, the mayor was the first one to see him.
He started, turned pale, gasped once or twice, thrust out his hand and cried: "Give me that bottle! Quick! the hull of it"
Pokey undertook to pass the bottle, but noticing that Jake's eyes were riveted upon something, turned his head to see what it was.
He uttered a yell, and then, instead of passing the bottle to Jake, he threw back his head, and jammed the neck of it down his own throat.
Then the others discovered the supposed ghost.
There followed a chorus of curses and cries.
Some leaped from their chairs; others slid under the table at which they were sitting, and one or two started for the door.
In the meantime the mayor had insisted upon having the bottle, and he made a dash to get it away from Pokey.
Pokey held on.
So did Jake.
Both struggled for its possession, and the next instant they were rolling over and over upon the floor, while the bottle was broken into a thousand pieces between them.
"What is the matter, gentlemen?" said Nick. "You act very strangely to-day."
The mayor sat up on the floor and gazed with an expression of awe upon the face of the mysterious Sport.
"Say, be you alive?" he asked, when he could find his voice.
"Certainly."
"War ye alive when I looked into yer cabin a leetle while ago?"
"Most assuredly."
"An' ye ain't been killed by the Twenty-One?"
"Not yet."
"Well, I'm blowed!"
"Yes—you look blown, rather. I slept rather late this morning, and when I awoke, I found that somebody had cut a hole in my waistcoat. See, here it is," and he pointed to the hole which the knife had made.
"Was that hole there when ye woke up?" asked Jake.
"Yes."
"War thar a knife in it?"
"No; I think not."
"Think not! Great Scott, don't-ye know?"
"I am positive—yes."
"But the hole war in the coat?"
"Yas."
"Is there one in you, too, under it?"
"Not that I know of."
The mayor groaned.
"Look here," he said, presently. "I saw you a-layin' on yer bed this morning' with a knife stickin' into you, an' now ye come here an' tell us that ye only slept late, an' I'm cussed ef I know whether yer dead 'r livin'. Do suthin' to prove yer alive."
"No, I'll say something. Have a drink. A man who can drink June's whisky is in no danger from the stab of a knife."
NICK kept his word with the two prisoners in the pocket of the old mine, and left them twenty-four hours without food or water.
But when the twenty-four hours were up, he made himself up as the bummer, prepared a good meal with an accompaniment of steaming hot coffee, and then, followed by Chick, descended the shaft.
"Well, are you hungry?" he asked, when they reached the pro tempore prison.
Both Jim and Bob looked ravenous, and they smacked their lips expectantly.
"Sit down, Chick," said the detective, placing the food on the floor of the mine, just out of reach of the two prisoners. "Help yourself, my lad. We want these two philanthropists to see what a good time we will have eating."
"D'ye mean ter say ye ain't goin' ter give us none o' that?" asked Jim.
"Certainly not. Why should I? When you agree to take me to the old mine where eighteen out of the Twenty-One hang out, I'll feed you—not before."
Nick and the boy paid no further attention to the two men, but continued to enjoy their repast with exceeding relish.
When the dinner was ended, Nick arose and politely bade the men good-by.
"I will come again at the expiration of another twenty-four hours," he said. "I will eat in your presence again, and if you still remain obdurate, I will go away for another day. Presently, when you get hungry enough, you will tell me what I want to know."
"What d'ye wanter know?" growled Jim.
"A great many things. What is your captain's name?"
"Clayton."
"What relation is he to June?"
"None."
"That is a lie. I know better."
"He's her son."
"Ah! Do they ever change places? I mean, does the captain sometimes dress himself in June's clothes, and take charge of the saloon?"
"Often."
"They look alike?"
"As two peas."
"Where is Angela Sepulvida?"
"What d'ye know of her?" demanded Jim.
"Answer; don't ask questions. Where is Angela Sepulvida?"
"In Hellion City."
"Again you are lying. Is she not in the old mine?"
"Yes."
"Where is that?"
"About six miles from here."
"Is it guarded?"
"No. There ain't no need o' that. It guards itself."
"Is it the headquarters of the Twenty-One?"
"Yes."
"Do the men stay there?"
"Most of 'em."
"How many?"
"Fifteen 'r so."
"If you were sure that your old friends would never catch you and punish you for it, would you, to save your life, lead me to the old mine?"
"No."
"What then?"
"I'll tell you how you can find it for yourself, but I won't go there."
"Where is it?"
"In Poke Mountain."
"Ah! well?"
"Do you know where table rock is?"
"Yes."
"An' half a mile farther, Falls Canon?"
"Yes."
"Ever been in it?"
"No."
"It leads about a mile when you come to the end where the falls come over the top of the bluff, sixty feet high. The falls slide down the rock an' then shoot off, making a broad sheet o' water. The old mine is behind that sheet, an' to get into it, ye've gotter jump right through the water. Ef ye take a run, and jump right through, ye don't git much wet, even."
"All right. Are there any sentinels to pass?"
"Nary one."
"Any secrets that I ought to know to avoid discovery?"
"No. I wouldn't tell ye ef thar was any. Ye wouldn't know the difference, an' I'd git my grub jest the same."
"Don't be too sure of that," retorted Nick. "I am going to the old mine. If I don't come back you will starve."
"I've told you the truth, so help me!"
Nick threw down a bundle of clothes at Jim's feet. Then, calling Chick, he bade him release the outlaw from the chains, while he, with drawn pistol, kept guard over the entrance.
"You have heard that I can shoot," he said, "and if you make the slightest effort to escape, I'll kill you instantly. Now change your clothes."
"What fur?"
"Because I tell you to. Off with those you have on, and on with those that I have brought for you. Quick!"
There was a ring of determination in Nick's voice, and Jim complied without delay. .
The change was soon made, and the outlaw again fastened to the iron ring.
Nick took the discarded clothes and returned to the cab-in, where he soon changed his own for them.
Then selecting a wig and a false beard of the right shade, and providing himself with an extra light, a mirror, and shears, he went once more to the pocket.
"Stand there," he ordered Jim.
Chick held the light, and the detective, after placing the mirror in position against a rock, began work.
To him, the operation was very simple, but to the two outlaws it was a wonderful piece of work.
When he had finished, he turned to Bob and said: "Which is your brother, Jim?"
"If it warn't for the chains I'm blowed ef I'd know," replied Bob. "You're him over again, voice an' all."
"Thanks. Then I guess I will do. Is there anything more to tell me that will help me out when I am in the old mine?"
"Yes," broke in Bob.
'What is it?"
Jim scowled, but he nevertheless replied: "We call the mine the 'Den,' and every man in the Twenty-One is named after an animal. I am never called Jim there."
"What are you called?"
"Grizzly Bear, or Grizzle for short."
"And Bob?"
"Is Jackal."
"And the captain?"
"Is jest cap'n."
"Now. In what part of the place is Angela Sepulvida confined?"
"I don't know. Nobody knows, but two."
"Who are they?"
The cap'n and June."
"You are telling the truth?"
"Yes; an' now, by thunder, I think I've earned something to eat and drink."
"So you have. Chick, give them a good drink of whisky, and all the grub they can eat."
"Good-by, Grizzle and Jackal," he added. "When I see you again, you will be all there will be left of the Twenty-One. You are safer here than anywhere else for the present.
"The game has changed. It was one against twenty-one. Now it is one against eighteen."
THAT same night, an hour after dark, Nick Carter, in the disguise of Jim, the grizzly bear, paused before the entrance of Falls Canon.
Presently he entered the canon and made his way toward the falls.
The night was not dark, for a bright moon was shining and he could see his way very well.
He had gone about half the distance when a voice bade him halt and throw up his hands, while the sharp click of a revolver hammer told him that it would be dangerous to delay.
"Who be you?" inquired the voice from behind the rock. and at the same moment the form of a man stepped into view, weapon in hand.
"Yer a cussed fool ef ye don't know me," growled Nick, imitating Jim Herrick's voice to perfection.
"Grizzle, by thunder!" exclaimed the stranger.
"Guessed it, didn't ye?" growled Nick.
"Whar'd ye come from, Grizzle?"
"Down hyar a piece under some bushes."
"We thought ye war laid out."
"So'd I, when I got the welt on the head. But I'm a-kickin' yet."
"Where's Jackal?"
"Cussed ef I know. We war together arter knifin' the Sport, an' suthin' smashed me on the head. I didn't know nothin' more till a leetle while ago."
"You say ye knifed the Sport?"
"Cert."
"Kill him?"
"Do I ever miss?"
"Ye did that trip."
"Wot'r ye givin' me?"
"Backs. The Sport ain't no more dead nor you be. The tiger's the man wot's goin' ter tackle him next."
"Tiger's claws ain't no better'n grizzly's."
"Anyhow I won't miss, Grizzle."
"Ye ain't a lyin' to me are ye, Tiger?" asked Nick, for he had cleverly discovered the fellow's name.
"No, I'm a-givin' it to ye straight. Let's go in. The cap'n'll be glad that you're turned ap.
Nick let Tiger lead the way, following close at his heels.
Presently they reached the falls, and Tiger, with a run and a leap, passed through the sheet of water.
Nick followed, piercing the falls so quickly that he scarcely got wet at all.
Once inside, Tiger again led the way along a gallery, and Nick could scarcely refrain from a cry of surprise when they suddenly emerged from the mine into a natural pocket in the mountain.
The sides were very high, and it was absolutely impossible to scale them, the cavity being much smaller at the top than at the bottom.*
* The writer has visited the scene described, which is in many respects a marvelous freak of nature.
—Author.
There were three cabins in the den, as it was called, and from two of them could be heard voices of men.
They were members of the Twenty-One engaged in gambling and story-telling, and passing the time as best they could.
As they emerged from the mine into the den, Tiger uttered a loud yell, and instantly the voices in the cabin were hushed and, the next moment, the men came out from their games and met them.
"The Grizzly, by thunder!" they cried, and Nick saw that Jim had certainly been given up for dead.
Suddenly the door of the third cabin was thrown open and a figure came out, which but for the dress Nick could have sworn was June.
"Cap, here's Grizzle," said Tiger.
Keen as he was, Nick could not decide which of the two, the son or the mother, was before him.
The captain made a motion signifying that he wanted Nick to follow him, and re-entered his cabin.
Presently the door was shut, and they were alone together.
"Now," said the captain, placing a bottle where Nick could help himself, "tell me the whole story, from the time when you went back to make sure that the Sport was dead."
"This is June and not the real captain," thought Nick. "If it was the real article, he would have said 'from the time I left you!'"
Then he told his story.
There was a moment of silence.
Suddenly the captain said:
"Grizzle, I am going back to Hellion City just before daylight, and I want you to go with me. I have got an errand for you to do. Now join the boys, and be ready to go with me an hour before daylight.
Nick left June and joined Tiger in one of the other cabins.
NICK had studied Tiger enough so that he knew about how far he could go with him, and he was resolved to put the man to a severe test.
"Tiger," he said, suddenly. "I know wot ther Sport is arter."
"Well, wot?"
"The gal."
"Oh!"
"We ain't safe es long as she is in the hands o' June an' An' I'm goin' ter find her. When I do, I'm a-goin' ter make a bargain with that sport."
"It's dangerous, pard."
"Bah! I'd ruther cut the gal's throat than keep her here an' have mine cut, an' while we're talkin' o' cuttin' ye may es well understand, Tiger, thet ef ye split on wot I I've said to-night, I'll cut yourn."
"Two kin play at that game, Grizzle."
"Yes," said Nick, leaping to his feet, "an' one of 'em's dead sure ter git left."
"You're a traitor!" hissed the other, "an' I'm a-goin' ter lay you out. I suspected it when I saw ye come back alive."
"Oh. ye did, eh?"
"Yes; an' you've gotter die, Grizzle."
With a savage oath, he drew his revolver.
In that move he made a mistake.
When the outlaw drew the pistol, Nick simply threw up his right hand with that quick motion which caused the spiral spring in his sleeve to work.
The flash and the report followed, and Tiger pitched forward on the floor, with a bullet hole between his eyes.
He died instantly and without a struggle.
Nick leaped forward, seized Tiger's revolver, and fired it into the wall behind where he had stood himself.
Then he flung the weapon down at Tiger's side and waited.
In less than half a minute a dozen men were in the room.
Tiger was stretched upon the floor, dead, and Grizzle stood with a pistol in his hand—one which he had not used—and with an ugly frown upon his face.
The captain was among the first to reach the cabin.
"What is the meaning of this?" was the first question.
"Tiger shot at me an' missed. I shot at him an' didn't," was Nick's gruff reply.
"What was the trouble?"
"That's my business and his, an' he's dead. Ef anybody don,t like it, I've got more fight left. He called me a coward, an' I called him a liar. He shot an' missed. I killed him."
Nick saw by the frowns that went around the group, that Tiger had been a favorite among them, and he realized that his part would be more difficult than ever to carry out.
The body of Tiger was carried from the cabin and cared for by his friends, and then Nick turned to June who had remained alone with him.
"Now cap'n," he said, "I'm ready to go with you wherever you want me. It wants about an hour of daylight."
"I am afraid that I can't trust you, Grizzle. I was going to give you something to do for me, but I have changed my mind, You will have to stay here now."
June turned without a word and left the cabin, and presently Nick went out also.
With great caution he crawled on his hands and knees to a point where he could see through the shutters into the cabin where she was.
As he had suspected, she was not alone.
One of the men, Coyote, was with her, and they were talking in low tones.
The directions she was giving Coyote were to the effect that the suspected Grizzle was to be slain as soon as they were satisfied that he was not what he pretended to be, or that he was a traitor.
"Now, Cayote," she concluded, "go and give my directions to the boys, and then return here, for I want you to go with me."
"Hadn't they better guard the mine so's Grizzle can't git away?"
"Yes, by all means."
That was enough for Nick.
He darted back to the cabin where he had killed Tiger, and entering, bolted the door on the inside.
Then, working rapidly, he squeezed himself through one of the narrow windows, and darted away toward the mine.
"They will try the door," he thought, "and think that I have locked myself inside. Then they will post a guard at the entrance to the mine, after I have left. Good, Madame June; unless I am greatly mistaken, I will go with you to-night in spite of your wishes."
He paused just inside the entrance to the mine, and waited.
A few moments later Coyote appeared, accompanied by June, still in the costume of the captain, and then Nick started through the mine toward the falls.
Suddenly, when about half way along the gallery, he paused.
"Suppose some of these pockets conceal other parts of this mine," he mused, "and June and Coyote should turn into one of them. I'd lose them. Guess I'll wait."
He flashed his lantern open long enough to discover what seemed to be an available pocket, and then, closing the slide again, he went into it, and crouching down, awaited the coming of June and Coyote.
He had not long to wait.
As they drew nearer, he heard the murmur of their voices, and knew that they were talking about Angela Sepulvida.
"What makes you think that she is the object the Sport has in view?" asked Cayote.
"I don't think; I know," was June's reply. "The Sport is not a sport at all. He's a New York detective that the three men who were made trustees of the old man's will, sent for."
"How do ye get to the place where the girl is?"
"The entrance is here, somewhere. Why, this is the very pocket," added June, suddenly, and she stepped forward directly toward the spot where Nick was crouching.
THERE was no time in which to think.
Gathering all his energies, he gave one wild leap forward.
His fist shot out like a battering-ram, and struck Coyote fairly between his eyes.
The man went down as though he was hit with a hammer, and the torch that he carried went with him, and was extinguished.
The instant that Nick hit Coyote with his fist, he turned and seized June in his giant-like grasp.
Gradually, and without unnecessary physical violence, he drew June's arms behind her.
In another instant a pair of handcuffs were snapped upon June's wrists and she was rendered helpless.
Taking the weapons from her belt, he told her gruffly, and in a voice he knew she would not recognize, to sit down.
"If you move or try to get away from me, or make a noise, I'll hurt you," he said.
Then he felt around until he found the senseless figure of Coyote.
Nick always carried plenty of tough cord about him, and he soon bound the outlaw so thoroughly that he could not move hand or foot.
Then slipping a gag into the man's mouth, he once more turned his attention to June, and fastened a pair of anklets around the top-boots which she wore in her dress as a man.
"I am sorry to be compelled to do this," he said, apologetically, "but I don't want you to leave me while I am otherwise engaged than in watching you."
Then he set to work.
An hour spent in careful search revealed nothing.
Suddenly an idea occurred to him.
It was possible that June had gone into the wrong pocket.
He would search the others near it.
Immediately he saw that he was in the right place.
A huge rock had been dug out of the roof of the pocket, and allowed to drop down into the gallery, effectually blocking it.
Then the cavities on either side had been filled with smaller pieces of stone, until, to a casual observer, the place was the extremity of the pocket.
Nick smiled at the simplicity of the device.
A hole had been dug beneath the big rock, just large enough for a person to crawl through. Then it had been hidden by means of a plank upon which loose stones had been piled.
Before passing beneath the rock, he returned to the pocket where he had left June and Coyote.
He disliked to put a gag in a woman's mouth, but the risk was too great, and the woman herself too dangerous for him to avoid any precautions, and accordingly he improvised a gag.
"There," he said, when the job was completed. "You are uncomfortable, I suppose, but it can't be helped."
He then returned to the opening, and with his dark lantern to light the way, crawled beneath the rock.
Presently he stood upon his feet in the farther gallery.
He kept on for a considerable distance, until he suddenly found himself at the end of the gallery, and at the bottom of a shaft which led away up into the darkness over head.
SUDDENLY, while he was wondering how he would ascend the shaft, he espied a silken thread which hung from the unseen top.
Nick took hold of the thread and pulled it gently.
He waited an instant and then pulled again, somewhat harder than before.
Again waiting, he pulled upon the thread the third time, and with considerable additional force.
That time he plainly heard the jingle of a bell, far up over his head.
Without knowing it, and quite by an accident which was solely the result of caution in working the thread, Nick had given the proper signal, which was three separate jingles of the little bell.
A few moments afterward something fell from above, and striking him upon the head, nearly knocked him down.
He recovered himself instantly, and perceived that the object was nothing more nor less than the end of a rope ladder, which he seized and began to climb without delay.
Up, up, up, he went in the darkness, for he closed his lantern and returned it to his pocket when he began the ascent.
"Am dat yo', honey?" asked the unmistakable voice of a negress suddenly, quite near to him.
"Yes," replied Nick, imitating the voice of June.
Wha' fo' yo' done put out de light, chile?" continued the negress. "It am dark heah now, sho' nuff. Mind dat ar' hole when yo' done step off 'n de ladder."
"Wait," said Nick, "I've got a light."
He pulled out the lantern and opened the slide, throwing the dazzling glare straight into the negress' eyes.
"Gosh-a'mighty!" she exclaimed, starting back and blinking like an owl staring at the sun. "Does yo' want to go fo' to blind ole Lib wif dat ting?"
While she was rubbing her eyes, Nick took his bearings.
He saw that the negress was standing in another gallery which had been run off to follow the line of an upper vein, and that the ladder hung from some point much farther up.
He stepped off, and the next instant stood at the negress' side.
"You don't know me, do you, Lib?" he said, in his natural tone.
She leaped quickly away from him, and stood glaring with fiery eyes upon the stranger who had so boldly intruded.
"Who's you?" she demanded, fiercely.
Nick laughed.
"June sent me," he said, simply.
"Wha' fo' June not come her own self, or send Harry, hey?"
"Harry is wounded," replied Nick. "June could not come because she had to stay with Harry, and so she sent me."
"Yo' dead sho' dat's all de trufe?" asked the negress, suspiciously.
"Of course."
"Well, wha' you want now?"
"I want the girl."
"Wha' fo' yo' want de gal?"
"Because I was sent for her. Come, Lib, no nonsense now. Take me to her at once."
The negress chuckled.
"Yo' fool-man!" she exclaimed. "Ef yo' want de gal, wha' fo' you stop heah? Wha' fo' you not go on up to wha' de gal am, hey?"
"Where is she?"
"Yo' done come fo' de gal an' don't know wha' she is? Yo' fool-man, I tole you."
For reply, Nick reached out and seized the negress.
"Look here, Lib," he said, savagely, "I didn't come here to be made fun of. I don't like the job, anyway. I don't know anything about this infernal hole, and don't want to. I don't know where the girl is, and do want to. If you don't show me at once, by the hokey, I'll .chuck you down the shaft, and find her myself."
"Frow dis chile down dar?" cried the negress, in horror. "That's what I said."
"Wo' de lan' sakes alibe! glory-be-to-gracious! Wha' yo' go fur to do dot ar' fo', man?"
Nick raised her in his arms and held her out over the black abyss.
"Are you ready to take me to the girl?" he said.
"Yes, fool-man; I is."
"All right."
He put her down again.
"Now mosey, and be lively, too. I have no time to lose."
"Has I gotter go wif yo'?"
"Sure!"
"Come on, then."
Without more ado, she reached out, seized the rope ladder and began mounting it.
Nick judged that he must be at least a hundred and twenty feet from the bottom of the shaft when Lib finally announced that they had reached the desired point.
Again the lantern was opened, and Nick saw a gallery like the one they had just left.
While still clinging to the ladder Nick looked up, and saw enough to assure him that the top of the shaft was not very much farther overhead, although the rope ladder ended where they left it.
The negress started rapidly away along the gallery, and Nick kept close at her heels.
Suddenly she paused before a heavy wooden door, and drew a key from her pocket.
The next moment he found himself in a room fit for the boudoir of a jungle-princess, and as Nick glanced at the girl for whom he had risked so much, he saw that her beauty was great enough to grace any kingdom.
She looked at Nick with polite expectancy, and he realized at once that she thought him one of the gang of Twenty-One who kept her a prisoner.
Using the Spanish tongue, he addressed her.
"Does the negress understand Spanish?" he asked.
"No," she replied.
"I have come to rescue you."
"To rescue me!"
"Yes."
"Oh! But how can we escape? Do you know where we are? Far, far, up in the very center of a mountain. To descend on the outside is impossible, and I have been told that the way through the gallery is guarded by armed men. See!"
She threw open a double window, disclosing an aperture in the wall, fully ten feet in diameter.
Nick stepped forward and gazed from the opening, and stood for a moment enraptured by the view.
Far below him lay the valley, and away in the distance the little huts of Hellion City, looking more like ant-hills than human habitations.
He was standing upon a shelf of rock around which a rail had been built.
Below him there were several hundred feet of sheer fall down a rough and craggy precipice.
With a decided and impulsive energy Nick re-entered the room and closed the windows.
"Come," he said, "there is no time to lose."
The negress had begun to suspect that all was not right, and when she saw Angela putting a few things together to take with her, her doubts became certainties.
With a loud cry she sprang toward the door and attempted to bar their passage, but Nick had done with diplomacy.
"Stand aside, Lib," he said. "This young lady is going away with me."
"Not while ole Lib's alibe, sho' nuff!" she ejaculated, with flashing eyes. "I's a gwine fur to stop you ef I kin', honey."
Nick sprang upon her, and despite her frantic struggles carried her to the bed.
Then utilizing the blankets, he tied her securely, and fastened her to the frame-work of the bed.
"Come," he said to Angela, then, and leading her by the hand, he hurried to the shaft where the ladder of rope hung suspended.
As he seized the rope, he looked down.
Then he started violently, for a dozen lights were flashing far below him.
The Twenty-One had been aroused.
Nick instantly realized that he must draw up the ladder.
It was very heavy, showing that the outlaws had already begun their ascent.
EXERTING all of his great strength, he jerked the ladder violently several times.
Suddenly the weight left it, and a moment later a loud cry came up to him from the bottom of the shaft.
The ladder was now free from impediment.
He pulled it up rapidly, coiling it. upon the floor of the gallery beside him.
"Come," he said, "there is yet one way left. A hopeless one, perhaps, but we will try it."
He told Angela to lead the way back to the room that she had occupied, and with the heavy rope ladder in his arms he followed her.
The ladder would not reach more than half way to the bottom of the cliff, but he espied a bit of shelving rock barely wide enough to stand upon, to which it might extend.
He locked the heavy wooden door on the inside, and braced it even more firmly with what furniture there was in the room.
Next he fastened one end of the ladder securely, and dropped the other out of the window.
He saw that it extended several feet below the level of the rocky shelf, but fully thirty feet to one side.
In a few words he explained to the girl what he had to do, and then, with the agility of a sailor, he sprang upon the ladder and rapidly descended.
As soon as he reached the bottom, he began to swing, using his feet against the cliff wherever he could touch it.
In a moment he was sailing back and forth like a pendulum, and presently his feet rested upon the shelving rock.
To make the lower end of the ladder fast there, was no easy matter, but he finally succeeded by wedging a large dirk securely into a crevice, and tying it to that.
Then he went up again.
He spent a few more moments at the place where the rope was fastened.
First he lashed his knife just beneath the strands, with the edge of the blade turned up.
Then he broke one of the chains into pieces and used one of the legs to place next to the knife in such a manner that it would just prevent the rope from touching the blade.
He reasoned, that when they reached the rocky shelf, he could, by shaking the ropes, dislodge the piece of chair-leg.
That would permit the rope to rest on the knife-blade, where it would consequently be cut apart, and he would have to rely upon his strength to break the remaining rope, and so free the ladder.
It was slow work, going down a shaky rope-ladder with Angela in his arms.
Nick and Angela had nearly reached the shelf, and were but a few steps above it, when a most unexpected thing happened.
They fell.
That is, the ladder did.
Nick, ever ready for emergencies, managed to throw himself toward the cliff, still clinging to Angela.
They struck the shelf and would certainly have rolled off and fallen to the bottom of the chasm, had not Nick reached out and seized the rope at the very point where he had fastened it to the dirk.
The ladder itself went down with a crash past them, but the end that was fastened upon the shelf remained firm, and thus the way to complete their escape was open.
At first Nick supposed that the piece of chair-leg had been crowded out of place, and the rope thus brought in contact with the knife blade, but, as he looked up, he saw the black face of negress Lib peering down at them, and he saw instantly that she had managed to free herself and had cut the rope.
While intending to kill from by precipitating them to the rocks below, she had in reality done much to aid their escape.
Nick lost no time in profiting by the event, and with a hasty glance at the rope to see that it was securely fastened to the dirk, he continued the descent.
The bottom of the canon was reached without accident, and still carrying Angela, who was but a little heavier than a child, the detective started away rapidly in the direction of Hellion City.
He had not traveled two miles with his burden, and had barely left the confines of the canon, when he came face to face with Chick.
CHICK was delighted to meet his new master once more.
He had good news for Nick, too.
Less than a mile away there was encamped a whole company of U. S. Cavalry, and he, boy-like had come out to see them.
Chick was mounted, and Nick, after inquiring the way to the place where the soldiers were encamped, placed Angela on the horse behind him.
"Now, Chick," he said, "do just as I tell you. Go straight to my cabin with this young lady. Don't stop for anybody or anything. If anybody endeavors to stop you, shoot, and don't hesitate. When you reach the cabin, take her into the old mine, close the trap after you, and wait there with her until I come."
Chick dashed away, and Nick broke into a run, and ere long reached the soldiers' camp.
In a few words he explained what he wanted.
Ten men were sent to the canon from which Nick had just escaped, and the others followed him up the Falls Canon to the cataract.
They dashed through it after him, and entered the mine.
Then, at Nick's suggestion, the force was divided, part of it under the leadership of the captain continuing along the main gallery to the "Den," and the others following Nick.
They went silently, having removed their sabers, and as Nick had expected, came upon a group of men sitting at the bottom of the shaft, evidently bent upon waiting until Nick and Angela should be started out, as, for some reason the negress had not yet succeeded in giving the alarm.
She was found afterward, dead upon the floor of the room where Angela had been a prisoner, and it was supposed that she died from her exertions in freeing herself from the bonds which had held her to the bed.
The men at the bottom of the shaft offered a feeble show of resistance, but two of them were promptly shot down, and the others surrendered.
The company then filed back, and reaching the main gallery turned toward the den.
There the outlaws made a determined resistance.
Three soldiers were killed outright, and several were wounded severely, while not one of the outlaws, who had been there was left alive.
June was nowhere to be found, and Nick, realizing that she must not escape, hurried the captain and his command back to their horses.
They were soon galloping in the direction of Hellion City.
But the door of June's saloon was barricaded, for in some way she had received intelligence of the defeat of the Twenty-One.
Nick demanded that the door be opened, and was answered by a bullet which grazed his temple.
The residents of Hellion City were aroused by this time, and they turned out en masse.
Somebody set fire to the saloon, and as the flames began to eat away the woodwork of the building, the face of June appeared at a window over the front door.
She pointed a revolver at the crowd, and began firing rapidly, keeping her own person exposed.
One of the miners was hit in the arm, and with an oath he raised the other one and shot June dead where she stood.
Then another face appeared.
It was exactly like June's, only younger.
Chick stepped forward when he saw it, and poised his riata.
The man in the window did not see him.
Presently the loop whizzed through the air, entered the open window, and settled over the doomed man's head.
Then the boy gave a violent jerk.
The man pitched forward headlong, and tumbled in a heap at the boy's feet.
He was not dead, but he was fatally hurt.
He lived long enough to explain that he was June's son, and that their plans were that he was subsequently to marry Angela, and so enjoy the immense wealth to which she was heiress.
The Twenty-One were wiped out.
When the soldiers dashed into Hellion City, Chick, in the mine with Angela heard them.
He took her up to the cabin, left her there, and joined the soldiers in front of June's saloon, and was thus present to throw his riata at the critical moment.
The two men, Jim and Bob, were according to Nick's agreement with them, set free, on their positive promise to leave the country.
Nick, accompanied by Chick, took Angela to San Francisco, where he placed her in charge of Anson Howard and Harvey Dean, who sent her to Mexico to her relatives.
Before leaving Hellion City, Nick concealed all evidences of the existence of the old mine beneath his cabin, by filling up the shaft which led to it, for it was so rich with silver that he determined to return some day and possess himself of the wealth that lay there.
Jake, the mayor, parted with him reluctantly, and to this day does not comprehend the ghost episode. He still believes that he had a touch of "'em."
Chick accepted Nick's offer to return east with him, and to share the reward paid to him by Harvey and Dean.
We will hear more of Chick later for he remained with Nick for many years, faithful and true.
One against twenty-one was reduced to one against none.
Roy Glashan's Library
Non sibi sed omnibus
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