SHIFTING THE PRISONERS.
The Fool of Folly Mountain had no more than got home when he had
callers, though the hour was so late that it verged upon morning. He
had lighted his lamp and was thinking of turning in for the balance
of the night, when they tapped on his door. When he admitted them he
saw that they were Gopher Gabe and White-eyed Moses.
“Have seats, gentlemen,” he said, in his suave manner. “Sorry I can’t
offer you cushioned rockers, but stools are all I’ve got in stock
right now. I haven’t much time to sit down myself, so don’t find the
need of soft chairs.”
He pushed out two stools for them.
Seating himself, Gopher Gabe looked curiously round the room, at its
rude and simple furnishing, and then at the man himself. He could not
but note that the fellow who called himself Uncle Sam was a tall,
handsome man, made remarkable in appearance by his blond mustache and
the long, blond hair that fell down on his shoulders. The man’s eyes
were keen and penetrating, almost belying the smiling face and genial
manner.
A door opening into the small back room gave a glimpse of an
assayer’s furnace and appliances.
“I’m judgin’ that your secret process for gettin’ gold out of just
plain dirt is a good deal of a success,” said the saloon keeper, with
a meaning smile.
“Well, yes; I’m doin’ tol’able in my line, thank you! Took out a snug
sum this week.”
“And doubled it at my gaming tables.”
The stranger’s gurgling laugh overflowed. The compliment seemed to
please him.
“I hobe that our friendt vill not t’ink it an insuldt if I say that
he seems to know vare a blendy of aces are to be foundt most easily,”
remarked White-eyed Moses.
Uncle Sam laughed again.
“That seems to be the general inference,” he admitted; “but I assure
you, gentlemen, that I get my aces from where they ought to come--the
regular pack. Shall I be blamed if the dealer throws them to me, when
he would, perhaps, prefer to throw me something else? It is just
gambler’s luck.”
“It makes you a heap of a winner,” was Gopher Gabe’s dry comment.
“It’s a fact that the winnings seem to come my way with astonishing
regularity. But what would you? Shall I refuse to win, when I can? I
play for money, you know--not for my health. The other gentlemen are
doing the same; so if they lose it’s their lookout.”
“Cards and minin’ ain’t your only line, I take it?” said Gopher Gabe,
with a wink.
“Idt is vhat brought us up here--ower obinion that you had somet’ing
else up your sleeve,” White-eyed Moses added.
“Several times, and in various ways,” said the saloon keeper, “you
have given us to understand that.”
Uncle Sam winked back at Gopher Gabe.
“It may be so,” he admitted.
“You know what we are drifting at?” said White-eyed Moses.
“Usually, I’m a good guesser, gentlemen!”
“Then, gettin’ right down to business,” said Gopher Gabe, “wouldn’t
you like to go in with us?”
“Getting right down to brass tacks, as you say. I’d like to do that
very thing, if my understanding of your meaning is straight.”
“You ain’t playing this game of assayer hyer without a mighty good
reason,” urged Gopher Gabe.
“You’re right, I ain’t!”
“The gold you get out of this dirt hyer you put into it before you
get it out?”
Uncle Sam winked again, twisting his face in a comical smile. Then he
lifted one eyelid.
“See anything green under there, gents?” he asked.
“Ve knowed all along that it was bluff,” said White-eyed Moses.
Uncle Sam winked again, at the fiddler.
“How much you makin’ out of it?” asked the saloon keeper.
“All I can.”
“How many hauls do you make in a week?”
“In the time I’ve been here I’ve made just five--if that’s what you
mean.”
Gopher Gabe and White-eyed Moses looked at each other. The Fool of
Folly Mountain leaned back on his stool, smiling.
“There have been just seven hold-ups round here in that time, that
we know about. We can account for two of them; that is, we know who
worked ’em. You done the rest?”
“I guess we understand each other, Gabie. So I reckon you might as
well get down to business.”
“You would go in with us?”
“Kind gentlemen, I would, and be delighted. I believe I could clear
up more money, in with you.”
“What kind of a hole have you got back there?” asked the saloon
keeper, looking at the assay room.
“That’s my bluff assay room; but there’s space behind it.”
“A secret place?”
“Hide a man in there, and you couldn’t find him in a hundred years. I
knew that hole was there when I bought out the tenderfoot. He worked
back here in secret, thinking gold was to be found in great hunks;
I’ve been using it secretly, too, but for another reason.”
“You’ve got your winnings back there?”
“And my stealings--some of them.”
“Could you keep a couple of people snug in there for a week or so?”
“For a month, if you want it done.”
“That is shust what ve have come to findt out about,” White-eyed
Moses admitted, rubbing his hands together.
“I guessed it.”
“You dit?”
“Sure thing.”
“Vhat dit you guess?”
“That the people you want me to care for back there air the man and
the woman who have so mysteriously dropped out of sight recently.”
“I’ll tell you how it is,” said Gopher Gabe, growing confidential
now, drawing his stool nearer the other.
“We have got them two, and it’s puzzlin’ us what to do with them.”
“You might knock ’em on the head!” said Uncle Sam, with apparent
callousness.
“Lader, ve might,” admitted White-eyed Moses; “but not shust now.
You see, ve don’t vandt to gommit murter, unless ve have to. It is a
murter charge they have got ag’inst Juniper Joe.”
“Yet you’ve been trying to kill Cody!”
“I ditn’t finish what I was saying. Ve vant to hold them as some sort
of hostages, you see. If ve git indo a hole that we gan’t crawl out
of, ve gan, maype, use them to secure ower safety. You see the boint?”
“I see that, all right.”
“We’ve been holdin’ ’em in a room leadin’ off from that cellar which
was searched to-night,” the saloon keeper told him. “Cody, when he
was knockin’ round down there, hammered with his knuckles on the
walls. He didn’t hit the right spot, or he would have tumbled. The
thing is too risky. He will search the place again, and he’ll find
that room. Then I’ll be in more trouble than I want.”
“If I ton’dt kill him in the meantime!” said White-eyed Moses.
“Moses will have to go into training, before he can qualify as a
pistol expert,” said Gopher Gabe, with a skeptical laugh.
“You mean that when he shoots at a man he hits the lamp beside him,
or shoots through the window where he is sitting, and hits the wall?
It would indicate that our friend Moses has got a bad case of shaking
palsy in his trigger finger, when shooting times comes. He ought to
get over it.”
Uncle Sam’s gurgling laugh sounded again, as he concluded:
“Why don’t you hire a substitute, Moses, who isn’t affected in that
way?” he asked.
“_I’ve_ tried to hire ’em,” the saloon keeper admitted. “But the men
of this town are so paralyzed with fear whenever Cody comes in sight
that money won’t buy ’em; they say they don’t want to die with their
boots on. He has got a bad reputation as a quick gun man, and they
don’t want to take the risks.”
“Yet a bit of cool assassination couldn’t get ’em into trouble! I
should think they would appreciate the fine art of downing a man in
the dark, when he wasn’t looking. Drop a man that way, and he can’t
shoot back, you know.”
“I reckon you’re laughin’ about it.”
“Oh, no! The thing is too serious to laugh about.”
“White-eyed Moses is weakenin’ on the game himself. He come nigh
gettin’ Cody’s lead yisterday.”
“It vent t’rough my hat!” the rascal confessed.
“And destroyed your nerve, eh?”
“So we want to change tactics for a little while; that is, we want to
get them two people out of my cellar into a safer place. We thought
of you. Knowing that really you are of our class, we come hyer; and
I’m glad to find we wasn’t mistaken.”
The stranger smiled, apparently pleased by the compliment which
allied him with all the thugs and toughs of Blossom Range.
“Show me my duty and I’ll do it,” he said; “that is, if there’s good
money in it.”
“A thousand dollars a week,” said the saloon keeper; “and I’ll give
you five hundred of it right now, if you’re willin’. Besides, you
can, if your place back there is really secure enough to hold our
prisoners, keep on beating the fools at my gaming tables, and go
right ahead, too, with your hold-up work; though, in that last, there
is so much danger that I’d like to have you drop it till this thing
blows over. It will be safer for you, if you do.”
“At least vhile Buffalo Bill is here!” said White-eyed Moses.
“Then you’re going to let him live?” cried Uncle Sam, in mockery.
“I am nodt shoking!” Moses protested, flinging out his hands.
“Same here. I was never in a more serious humor in my life.”
“Can we bring them up here to-night?” Gopher Gabe asked.
“If you like, and think it’s safe.”
“I want to see the hole back there first; that will help me to decide
the matter.”
Uncle Sam arose, and took the lamp from the table.
“Just follow me, gents, and I’ll show you as cunning a fox den as you
ever looked into.”
He led the way into the back room, where he pushed on a concealed
panel, which slid to one side under his pressure, revealing a black
hole that was seen to be a passage.
This they entered, the man going ahead with the light, after closing
the secret door behind them.
A few yards of the tunnel admitted them to a small chamber in the
earth.
“The tenderfoot gophered this out, and thought to make a fortune,”
Uncle Sam explained.
Gopher Gabe looked it over with interest, and estimated the distance
to the cabin.
“I reckon they could holler a long time in hyer without bein’ heard
beyond your cabin,” he said.
“Until they was black in the face, and nobody’d ever hear ’em.”
“Idt seems,” said the fiddler, “shust the t’ing ve are vanting.”
“I reckon,” said Uncle Sam, “if you’re lookin’ for a close cage to
hold your birds in you see it right here. I’ll take care of ’em for
you; for that thousand a week, you bet!”
When they had looked the place over thoroughly and discussed it, they
went back to Uncle Sam’s cabin.
Gopher Gabe looked at the hidden door, which appeared to be the same
as the rest of the wall.
“I think it will do,” he said.
He stripped off some bills, from a roll he drew from his pocket, and
passed them to the man of the blond hair.
“Five hundred,” he said; “count it; you’ll get the other five at the
end of the week.”
The stranger slipped the bank bills through his fingers quickly, then
put them in his wallet.
“Correct,” he declared. “Bring along your cattle and I’ll take care
of ’em for you.”
“You go with us down to my place now,” said Gopher Gabe, “and we’ll
turn ’em over to you there; and find some men who will help you get
’em up here. How does that suit you?”
“If the bunch should be jumped on its way here, you don’t want to be
found with it. That’s your idea?”
“I’m paying _you_ to take that risk.”
“That’s clever of you, anyway.”
“I admit that in this game against Cody I’m playing double,” said the
saloon keeper. “You’ll know by and by how that is.”
“I reckon I know now, pard,” was the amiable answer. “You’re the wise
critter sitting in the dark and pullin’ the strings, rakin’ in most
of the money, too, while others do the dangerous work. But it’s all
right. I ain’t no call to kick. Just ante up the cash to me at the
end of each week, and I’ll hold that couple back there till their
heads are gray. I can’t make a thousand dollars a week easier, as I
see it.”
“Andt it is safe--for you,” urged White-eyed Moses.
“I’m goin’ to make it safe, pards.”
“We’d better be movin’, then,” said the saloon keeper, “if the thing
is all understood. Daylight will come jumpin’ along by and by.”
“Right you are. I’m ready.”
Uncle Sam locked the door of his cabin when they went out of it.
Then they took their way together downtown, but kept to the dark
streets.
Entering Gopher Gabe’s establishment by the back way, they came again
into the gaming room; when the man of the blond hair was surprised to
find two men in it--Tim Benson and Juniper Joe.
They looked a bit startled, but Gopher Gabe reassured them.
“He’s all right, boys,” he declared, referring to Uncle Sam. “He’s
come in with us, jest as I knew he would. I think we’re goin’ to find
him a mighty valuable man.”
He introduced Uncle Sam to the two men.
“What’s your right name?” Benson asked, looking at the tall man with
the blond hair. “We don’t want to make any mistakes, you know.”
“Well, I’ve clean forgot what it used to be.”
“You’ve had a good reason to forget it?”
“You’re sayin’ it.”
“Well, if you should ever think of playin’ us false,” Benson flung at
him, “better think twice about it; for you won’t live long afterward.”
Uncle Sam laughed.
“That don’t trouble me,” he declared.
“Idt is no use to pe making threats,” said White-eyed Moses.
“Correct!” agreed the saloon keeper. “You fellers want to be friends.
It stands you in hand; for I’m going to hide you at his place for a
couple o’ days or longer; we talked it over while comin’ down hyer.
I’m goin’ to ask you to help him get that fool Dutchman and the woman
up to his cabin, too. So we’ll have to hustle.”
“Changed your plans, eh?” asked Benson, rising.
“I had to. Cody is catching on. If he should find you in here it
would land me, along with you--see? So I’ve got to get you out of
here. He’ll raid this place again, in better fashion, before another
twenty-four hours; and I reckon you don’t want him to ketch you in
here any more than I do. That’s the way I look at it. If he should
find you occupyin’ that room where you’ve been--and at the same time
unearth the baron and the woman down below, I reckon it would be me
for the jail, along with the rest of the bunch.”
It was singular, the influence the fat saloon keeper had over these
men. Benson was the brainier man, yet he seemed willing to obey the
saloon keeper’s orders.
The five men went down into the cellar, taking the back-cellar
stairs, and carrying a lamp.
The place was nearly filled with barrels and casks, some empty,
others containing liquors of various kinds.
Two of these casks the men rolled out of the way, under the saloon
keeper’s instructions, when a small door was revealed.
This he opened. By stooping, the men passed through it into a small
room. In that room the light of the lamp showed the baron and the
woman, both trussed up in a painful manner.
The baron began to rave as soon as he saw them, for the stolid Dutch
patience had at last given away.
“Cut it out, my friend,” said Uncle Sam. “You’re goin’ with me. If
you do right, you’ll be treated right. But we ain’t goin’ to have any
howling, understand, either here or on the street.”
The German stared up at him, blinking his eyes in the unfamiliar
light.
“Take a good look at me,” the man said, with a laugh; “maybe you’ll
be able to recognize me hereafter.”
“You ar-re vun tuyfel!” the baron spat at him.
“Think so? All my friends say that I’m a perfect angel.”
The woman had not a word to say; she seemed chilled by her position,
and filled with hopelessness.
By one of the back doors of the Casino the prisoners were got out
into a dark street. Four men were in charge of them--Uncle Sam,
White-eyed Moses, Benson, and Juniper Joe.
The ropes had been removed from the ankles of the prisoners, but
their hands were still tied; and they had been told that if they
tried to escape, or call for help, they would be killed without mercy.
In that darkest hour before dawn the whole population of Blossom
Range appeared to be asleep. Not a person was encountered in any of
the dark, back streets through which the party passed.
When the cabin of Uncle Sam was reached, on the crest of the hill
called Folly Mountain, the darkness still held.
“I reckon we’d better not have a lamp,” said Uncle Sam. “Its light
might attract attention. I can strike a match, and use that; and put
it right out. So, in with you.”
The baron and the woman went into the cabin without resisting. In
fact, the baron seemed to have resigned himself to his fate quite as
fully as the woman.
The three desperadoes went away as soon as the prisoners were in the
hole back of the cabin; but Juniper Joe and Tim Benson informed Uncle
Sam that they would be back in a short time, and “board” with him.
The blond-haired man watched them through his darkened window as
they melted out of sight down the hill; then he took up his lamp,
unlighted, and unlocked the door which had been closed on the
prisoners.
Not until he had passed into the prison and had locked the door
behind him did he light the lamp.
The prisoners were lying on the floor, bound again hand and foot.
“This is rough!” he said, holding up the lamp and looking at them.
“You gan bedt idt iss!” the baron exploded.
“Now, I’ll tell ye what I’ll do; I’ll take these cords off o’ you if
you’ll give me your solemn word that you won’t try to get out and
cause me to lose the money I’m to receive for holding you? What say?”
“Ach! Cut ’em off!”
“It seems to me that I can’t stand them on any longer,” spoke up the
woman.
Laughing, the man began to untie the cords.
“I don’t want to cut ’em,” he explained, “and this takes time; but if
you’ll have patience off they will come soon. Ye see, I may want to
put ’em back on you, just as they are now.”
“Donder und blitzen!” the baron sputtered, when once more he was free
of the bonds that had chafed him.
“Feels good, eh?”
“Vot iss idt you ar-re going to do mit us now?”
“You’ve promised to be good children, you know; which means that you
won’t try to get away; and I’m goin’ to treat you accordingly. If any
of that crew comes back, I’ll have to tie you up again; but until
then I’m jest going to hold you on your word of honor.”
“Idt iss der limidt.”
“You mean _I_ am the limit?”
“Idt iss yoost vot I mean.”
“Had anything to eat lately, you two?”
“Nodt anyt’ings.”
“Well, you stay right here and be good, and I’ll bring you something.”
“Why can’t we go out into the other room?” asked the woman. “It seems
to me I’d give anything for a breath of fresh air.”
“Well, you see, you couldn’t eat out there without a light, and a
light might tell tales; so you’d better do the eating act in here.”
“Yaw! Dot iss so,” the baron agreed. “How longk do ve haf to sday
here?”
The blond-haired man laughed.
“Wow!” he gurgled. “I’ll have to keep you here as long as I get
that thousand dollars a week. Unless,” he added, “you could make it
fifteen hundred, and buy me off. I’m on the make.”
He went out of the room, laughing. What he was doing seemed a joke.
Ten minutes later, having supplied them with food, he left the cabin,
locking the door on the outside.
But he had not secured the hidden door leading from the cabin to the
excavated room that was occupied by the baron and the woman. This
door was pushed open, as Uncle Sam went away; and the woman, coming
out for a “breath of fresh air,” stood at the one window, watching
him as he disappeared down the hill.
“Der ouder door iss locked, huh?” asked the baron.
“Tightly locked,” she told him.
“Vale, vot do you t’ink uff idt?”
“The thing is so daring,” she said, “that it makes me dizzy.”