IN HIDING
The detective seemed to be walking down a long, dark lane, at the end
of which he saw a faint glimmer of light. The light hurt his eyes as it
grew brighter and the radiance increased as he came nearer to what, at
last, seemed to be the rising sun.
Then, as the pain in his head and eyes became almost unbearable with
the nearness of the light, which appeared to sting and burn him, Nat
Ridley became aware that he was staring at the rising sun--a ball of
golden fire--which shone full in his face, coming through a hole in a
pile of stones. Nat found himself half reclining on some burlap bags
and, as he tried to sit up, he became aware of a soft hand gently
pressing him back while a voice said:
"You had better lie quiet a little longer."
"What happened? Who are you?" asked Nat. Then he saw Cora Ardell
looking at him. Her face was grimy and there was a smear of blood on
it. But she was still beautiful.
"Oh, now I remember," observed Nat haltingly. "We were in the dungeon
and there was some sort of explosion."
"A bomb went off upstairs in the club, I guess," said Cora. "The top
of the cellar fell down on us just as you were going to lead me up the
secret stairway."
"That's it!" exclaimed Nat, as memory came back to him. He moved his
legs and arms, and found, aside from some bruises and stiffness, that
he was suffering but little. No bones were broken, but there was still
that terrible pain in his head. He put his hand to it and felt a large
lump.
"A stone fell on you there, and you were knocked out," explained the
girl.
"Then how did I get here?" asked Nat, for he looked about him and saw
that he was lying in a sort of tunnel of stone, with open country just
beyond. "How did I get here, out of the cellar?"
"I dragged you here," Cora answered.
"What, you--alone?"
"Oh, I am stronger than you think," she went on, with a wavering smile.
"And you know it is easier to drag a person than to carry him. I don't
believe I could have carried you--in fact, I know I couldn't have done
that. But it was comparatively easy after I'd rolled you over on a pile
of bags, to keep the stones from hurting you--it was comparatively
easy to make a rope of some other bags and haul you along."
"But how did you get me up the stairs?" asked Nat.
"There weren't any stairs left after the explosion," Cora replied.
"They tumbled down and made a sort of a runway."
"And you ran up it with me?" questioned Nat, smiling now, as the pain
in his head, caused partly by the rush of blood following a return to
consciousness, began to ease.
"I didn't do much running," confessed the girl. "I had to do a lot of
pulling and hauling. But at last I got you this far and I thought we
had better stay here. I couldn't tell who might be after you--and me."
"I guess they'll be after both of us," admitted Nat. "I may as well
tell you now that I am a detective who was engaged by your cousin to
solve this mystery, just before he, himself, was killed by the Tolas.
There is something terrible about their vengeance!"
"I had begun to believe so," admitted Cora. "What are we to do?"
"That will need to be considered," returned Nat. "First, though, let me
thank you for saving my life."
"Oh, I don't believe I did that."
"Yes you did!" insisted the detective. "It would have been only a
question of time when those Mexicans would have come down in the ruined
cellar to look for me. El Capitan had reason for wishing me out of the
way. I had a letter of his," and Nat put his hand in his pocket and
took out the purloined missive which was still there.
"El Capitan!" murmured the girl.
"Do you know him?"
"I heard the men who kidnapped me speaking of him," Cora answered. "He
is the leader, it seems."
"I guessed as much," answered Nat. "Well, so far, we are out of his
clutches. Did you see what happened to the two Negroes and their
Mexican friends?"
"No. After the explosion everything was dark. But I found a flashlight
in your pocket, and when I saw you were alive, but unconscious, I
started to get you out of the cellar. I went up the place where the
stairs had been, and then I thought this would be a good hiding spot."
"They haven't found us here yet, at any rate," Nat said. "Though it
will be only a question of time, I suppose. It is morning, I take it."
"There is the rising sun," Cora confirmed him. "It is breakfast time,
but we have nothing to eat."
"And I think we would both be a bit better off for something," stated
Nat. "I'm feeling much better now," he went on as he arose and stood
up, for the tunnel, in which he had returned to consciousness, was high
enough for this. He walked around and was quite himself again.
"Where are you going?" asked Cora as she saw him walking back toward
the incline of ruined stairs up which, at more cost and toil then she
admitted, she had dragged him.
"I'm going to see if I can rustle some grub, as the saying is,"
admitted Nat.
"You mean to go back into that dangerous place?" the girl gasped.
"I don't believe it will be particularly dangerous now," Nat answered.
"That is, unless it collapses on me, and I guess all the stones that
were to fall have come down."
"I was thinking of that Negro and the Mexicans."
"Oh, they're gone!" declared Nat. "You can make up your mind that after
such an explosion as that the Paloma police are on the job. We seem to
be quite a little distance away from the Cordova Club, but I imagine
the place is mostly in ruins and there is probably a cordon of police
around it now."
"Then why not appeal to them?" the girl inquired.
Nat Ridley shook his head, then stopped suddenly, for the pain shot
back.
"No," he said. "It is best to let the Tola gang think we perished in
the ruins. If we went to the police it would soon be known. We will lie
low for a time--remain here in hiding. When you're campaigning against
an enemy," he went on, "the more you can fool and puzzle and keep him
guessing the better. We'll let those Tolas think we're out of the
running and then we'll jump in again when they least expect it."
"Then you mean to stay here for a while?"
"Until after dark, at least. We can go out then in comparative safety.
But we'll need some water to drink and some food. There was the
start of a supper in that room of the secret stairs just before the
explosion. I think I can get enough to put us over until night."
"I would like some water," admitted Cora.
"And you need food," added Nat. "You stay here. I won't be gone long."
"Be careful!" she begged him. "These are terrible men!"
He nodded, and then crawled over the uneven pile of stones until he had
found the inclined runway up which he had been dragged. When he saw it
he marveled that the girl could thus have hauled him to a safe hiding
place.
Waiting and listening to make sure the way was clear, and hearing
nothing, Nat Ridley made his way down into what, before the explosion,
had been the room where the aged servant had greeted him. The table
was tipped over and split, rocks and concrete having fallen on it,
but from the heap of débris the sleuth managed to salvage some food.
Fortunately, he also found an earthen jar of clean water. With this he
returned to find Cora anxiously waiting for him.
"I--I thought something happened to you," she faltered.
"Enough has happened, and probably a lot more will," replied Nat
lightly. "But I'm all right for the present. Let's eat!"
The sun rose higher, moving away so that the golden beams no longer
penetrated the tunnel. The two examined their hiding place and
concluded that the tunnel was the secret egress from the Cordova Club
cellar--an exit used in times of trouble.
Nat was considering what his next move would be, and Cora was putting
away what food was left, in readiness for the next meal, when there was
a rattle of fallen stones and a form darkened the hole of the tunnel.
"Someone is coming!" whispered the girl.