THE SOLUTION TANK.
Hawkins’ remark reminded every one in the laboratory, and particularly
Merriwell, that Lenning was still to be found and dealt with.
Merriwell’s faith in Lenning was growing. He had drawn certain
inferences from the story told by his chums which strengthened his trust
in his protégé.
“I think, Hawkins,” said Frank, “that it’s pretty clear now that Lenning
wasn’t one of the robbers.”
“What makes it clear?” demanded the deputy sheriff.
Mr. Bradlaugh and Burke were opening the bag and examining the bars of
bullion. Frank’s statement and Hawkins’ question claimed their
attention, and they straightened up and looked around.
“Clancy and Ballard,” Merriwell replied, “recognized the voice of Shoup.
The other fellow didn’t speak, so they were not able to recognize him by
his voice. Now, Lenning and Shoup are enemies. It would have been
impossible for them to work together.”
“Shucks!” grunted the deputy. “They only pretended to be enemies, sos’t
Lenning could fool you into helping him get a job here.”
This was a most astounding theory. Furthermore, it was so wildly
improbable that Merry and his chums had to laugh.
“You don’t understand what happened between Lenning and Shoup out at the
camp in the gulch, Hawkins,” said Frank. “Shoup struck Lenning over the
head with a paddle, knocked him out of a canoe, and came within one of
drowning him. I guess they weren’t pretending they had a row--not to
that extent.”
Merriwell suddenly paused. He was talking in a loud voice--a voice that
echoed in tremendous volume through the big room. He wondered what was
the cause; and then, in a moment, he realized that the roar of the
stamps had ceased. Twenty batteries, of five stamps each, had gone
abruptly out of commission in the gold mill. The silence that hovered
over the mining camp was most profound. Merry had been talking against
the roar of the stamps, and when the roar ceased his voice was still
lifted.
“What’s the matter with the mill?” he inquired.
“The stamps have been ‘hung up’ for an hour,” answered Burke, “so the
amalgamators can dress down the plates.”
“It happens twice in every twenty-four hours,” put in Mr. Bradlaugh,
“once on the night shift and once while the day men are on duty. We----”
Sim, who had started back to his work in the mill, returned and thrust
his head in at the door just at that moment.
“Something queer goin’ on among the tanks, Burke,” he reported.
“Something queer, Sim?” echoed the super. “What do you mean by that?”
“Step outside once an’ use your ears.”
Not only Burke, but all the others, stepped from the laboratory building
and stood at attention, facing the grim, black tanks. Thump, thump
thump! came a hollow, reverberating note. There was nothing else, merely
that thump, thump, thump! It came sometimes at regular intervals and
sometimes a bit wildly and uncertainly.
“What is it?” inquired Mr. Bradlaugh.
“Blest if I can sabe it,” said Sim.
“How long has it been going on?”
“Don’t know that, either. Mebby it’s been goin’ on for quite a spell,
an’ that the roar of the stamps sort of smothered it. Now, when the
stamps is all hung up, the thumpin’ can be heard plain.”
“It comes from the tanks,” put in Hawkins; “maybe it’s a leaky valve
poundin’.”
“There’s nothing in the pipes,” said Burke. “The cyanide plant is out of
commission until to-morrow. Sounds as though some one was striking a
club against the side of a tank. We ought to be able to run it down and
find out what causes it.”
Burke started off, mounting a plank incline that led to the lower row of
tanks, and then moving slowly along a plank gangway that spanned the
tanks’ tops. Merry, Clancy, and Ballard followed him.
It was difficult to decide just where the thumping sound came from. The
hollow, resonant note was very deceiving. A little search, however,
proved conclusive that it did not emanate from the lower tier of vats,
so Burke and Merry and his chums mounted to the next tier.
While they were hunting over the gangway that crossed the second tier,
they were suddenly startled by a yell from Hawkins. Looking upward, they
saw the deputy sheriff standing on a ladder, visible from his waist up
over the top of the big solution tank. His form was silhouetted against
a background of starry sky, and he was making grotesque and excited
gestures with his arms.
“I’ve found what you’re lookin’ for,” he called. “Bring a lantern and
come here. It’s in the solution tank.”
“That’s as it should be,” laughed Burke; “the solution tank is the
proper one to offer a solution of the mystery.”
A lantern was secured, and Burke and the three lads hastened to climb to
the huge tank that topped all the others. Those below, including Mr.
Bradlaugh, went around the edge of the massed tanks and gained the
reservoir from the other side.
Merry and his chums climbed to the rim of the tank and hung over it,
looking downward into its black, cavernous depths. Thump, thump, thump!
came the mysterious racket from below, now wilder, louder, more
insistent.
Hawkins climbed to the rim of the tank, and pulled up the ladder and
lowered it down on the inside. Then he took the lantern that Burke
handed to him and began descending into the gloom. A little pool of
light went with him, and brought the interior of the tank slowly into
view.
As the deputy reached the foot of the ladder and flashed the lantern
about him, a cry of wonder burst from his bearded lips. The cry was
echoed by all those who were hanging to the rim of the wooden reservoir
and peering downward.
Jode Lenning was found!
Bound hand and foot, and with a cloth tied tightly over his lips, he was
lying on the bottom of the vat, close up against its rounded side. His
head was turned so that his eyes, glimmering weirdly, looked upward into
the faces overhead. As he lay there, he brought his bound heels against
the wooden staves, beating out a sort of tempo which the mill hand, Sim,
had been first to hear.
“By thunder,” gasped Clancy, “it’s Lenning!”
“Sure as you’re a foot high!” echoed Burke.
“Those two thieves must have tied him and dropped him into the tank,”
said Ballard. “Gee, but that was rough on him!”
“It would have been rougher still,” went on the super, with a black
frown, “if he had stayed there until morning, when the solution in the
sump tank was to be pumped back into the reservoir. It’s a deadly
poison.”
A shudder ran through Merriwell.
“I thought Lenning had been the victim of foul play,” was all he said.
Hawkins, putting down the lantern beside him, began releasing Lenning.
First he removed the cloth from his lips.
“The safe has been broken open,” were Lenning’s first, halting words;
“Shoup was one of the thieves--I don’t know who the--the other man was.
Follow them! You’ll have to hurry or----”
“Never mind, Jode,” interrupted Hawkins, in a kindly voice. “Shoup and
the other fellow got away, but the bullion was recovered.”
“The bullion--was re-recovered, you say?” faltered Jode.
“Yes.”
A sob of relief rushed through Lenning’s lips.
“I--I was afraid it would be laid to me,” he cried. “I didn’t want that
to happen after Merriwell had got me the place, and had become
responsible for what I did.”
“Everything’s all right, Lenning,” Merriwell called down, “so don’t
fret.”
Hawkins got the cords off Lenning’s feet and hands, and then helped him
up the ladder and down to the hard ground outside the tank. Mr.
Bradlaugh was there to catch him by the hand.
“Did--did you think I--I took the bullion?” Lenning asked weakly.
Mr. Bradlaugh had nothing to say.