SHANGOWAH’S BACKERS.
When young Joe and Dick arrived at the room of the Indians in the
Sunset House they were astonished to find it empty. The door had
remained locked, but old Joe Crowfoot was not to be found in that room.
Young Joe even looked beneath the bed in search of him.
“He’s gone,” said Dick. “He’s not here.”
“But how could he get out?” muttered the young Indian, puzzled and
dismayed. “I had the key, and the door was locked, as you saw.”
Merriwell thrust his head out of the window and looked down to the
ground. The room was a second-story one.
“Perhaps he jumped.”
“No,” said young Joe positively, “he didn’t do that.”
“I’m not so sure of it. I’ve seen the time when he would think nothing
of dropping out of a window this distance from the ground.”
“That time is past. Really, Dick, my grandfather is getting old and
feeble. He’s not the man he was. I’ve seen a great change in him. I
doubt if he could jump from this window to the ground without injuring
himself.”
“Old as he is,” returned Dick, “I’ll guarantee, if put to it, or pitted
against a desperate enemy, he would astonish some people. I’ve seen him
before when he seemed nearly all in, and I’ve likewise seen him ‘come
back.’”
Dick opened the closet door and peered into it. Suddenly he lifted his
hand, with his ear bent toward the closet.
Young Joe stepped swiftly and noiselessly to the Yale man’s side.
A faint smile crept over Dick Merriwell’s face.
“We’ve located Shangowah,” he said, in a low tone, as the sound of
voices came to their ears. “He’s in the adjoining room, and, so help
me! I believe he’s playing poker with a bunch in there.”
Mingled with the murmur of voices they heard the clinking of money and
shuffling of cards.
“You’re right,” whispered young Joe. “But how did he get in there?”
Even as he asked that question his eyes answered it, for he discovered
the opening high up at the back of the closet, and he knew the old
Indian had mounted the shelves, squirmed through that opening and
entered the next room in a decidedly unusual manner.
“He will play poker and he will drink,” muttered young Joe. “He says
he’s too old to abandon such habits, though he’s rather proud because
his grandson has listened to the counsel of Injun Heart and never
become a confirmed victim of such practices.
“It’s ten to one.” Joe went on, as he closed the closet door, “that
he’s fallen in with a bunch of sharks, and he’s in poor condition to
take care of himself.”
“If that is true,” laughed Dick, “it will be something unusual; for,
sober or otherwise, I’ve never yet seen Shangowah in such a condition
that he could not look after number one. However, I think it will be
well enough to get in there if we can and pry him away from that bunch.”
As they reached the door of the other room the sound of loud, angry,
and excited voices came to their ears, Merriwell’s hand fell on the
doorknob, but the door was locked.
“Kill him!” shouted a voice within the room.
Dick stepped back two strides, then he flung himself forward, and his
shoulder crashed against the door, which flew open, the lock broken.
Into that room leaped the two youths red and white. In a twinkling they
had seized old Crowfoot’s assailants and sent them reeling right and
left. The aged Indian was torn free from the hostile hands that had
clutched him.
“Ugh!” he grunted stoically. “Heap much obliged.”
“What’s the row in here?” demanded Dick Merriwell.
Buzzsaw Stover gathered himself up from the corner into which he had
spun from the hand of Merriwell.
“We caught that dirty old wolf cheating!” he howled hoarsely. “He
substituted a card from a pack of his own.”
“Ugh!” grunted old Joe once more. “You cheat. You put up one, two,
three, and some more little job on old Crowfoot. You think he not see?
You think he no have eyes? He see you monkey with pasteboards. He see
other man pass you card under table. He see you try to swipe stack of
money from him. Cheat? You biggest blame thief on two legs!”
“It’s a lie!” panted Stover. “I’ll choke the breath out of the old
robber! Come on, fellows! Going to let these two kids come in here and
bluff us?”
His companions answered with vicious cries, and, following his example,
proceeded to attack the intruders.
During the next few moments there were lively times in that room.
If those Outlaws fancied that by superior strength and overwhelming
numbers they were going to have a snap with their opponents, they
fooled themselves to the limit. Young Joe Crowfoot could use his
fists with all the skill of a finished boxer; and, side by side with
Merriwell, he took care of his share of the assailants. Gentle Willie
Touch got a punch in the wind that promptly put him hors de combat, and
Warwhoop Clinker was given a thump on the bugle that nearly drove his
proboscis back into his face.
Meanwhile, South-paw Pope had “got his” from Dick, and once more
Merriwell reached for Buzzsaw’s jaw and found it. Stover dropped into
the same corner from which he had lately emerged and sat very limp and
dazed, prevented from keeling over by the angle of the partitions.
While this was taking place old Joe Crowfoot calmly proceeded to rake
his own money off the table and take possession of the big jack pot
which had brought about the clash. The money piled in front of the
chairs at which the Indian’s associates in the game had sat was left
untouched.
“Now we puckachee,” said old Joe; “we vamoose. We make a sneak.”
He wabbled a bit as he passed through the open door. Dick and young Joe
followed him, leaving the Outlaws to recover.
“Oh! oh!” gasped Gentle Willie. “I’ll never draw a full breath again.”
“My nose!” groaned Clinker, whose face was an unpleasant, gory
spectacle.
Pope made his complaint, but for the time being Stover had nothing to
say.
Having recovered a short time later, however, Buzzsaw raged like a
lunatic.
“There’ll be murder in this town!” he snarled. “I’ll have that feller
Merriwell’s hide before another day is over.”
“Are we going to let that old Injun get away with the money?” asked
Pope.
“No!” was the furious answer. “We’ll take it away from him. Come on,
let’s find him.”
But they looked for Shangowah in vain. When they finally inquired at
the desk they were informed that old Crowfoot and young Joe had settled
and left the hotel for good. No one knew where they had gone.