THE “FORTY THIEVES MINE.”
“Got any idee why that thing was skewered inter my door, Buffalo
Bill?” asked Spangler, waddling into the room of the hotel, which
served as an “office.”
“Don’t fret about that, Spangler,” said the scout; “it was meant for
me.”
“Queer kind of a visitin’-card,” said Tenny, sticking his head in at
the door. “‘Nuzhee Mona,’ hey? Queer name fer a man, too.”
“How did it come there?” queried the scout.
“That’s what we don’t know,” puffed Spangler. “Half an hour ago it
wasn’t there--I kin take my affidavy on _that_. I had my eyes on the
door jest after the Chinks had come with the meat, an’ it was as bare
as the pa’m o’ my hand. Right arter that I settled down in front an’
went ter sleep. Tenny an’ Pete woke me up an’ pointed out the thing
ter me.”
“Then it must have been put up there while you were asleep?”
“I reckon that was the way of it.”
“Well, forget it. It’s my business, anyway, and nothing for you to
bother with.”
At that moment Wing Hi came out of the dining-room and went to the
front of the hotel with his brass gong. While he was pounding his
summons for dinner--a meal which had been delayed on account of the
extra work that had fallen to the two Chinamen--the scout and his
pards went into the dining-room and took their accustomed places at
one of the tables.
“Nick,” said the scout to his trapper pard, “here’s something for you
and Cayuse to think about: Did either of you ever hear of a spook
that was able to take a piece of birch bark and scratch words on it?”
The idea rather startled Nomad, but Cayuse kept on quietly with his
eating.
“Or,” proceeded the scout, with a wink at Wild Bill, “did you ever
hear of a spook that could take an old file and make a dagger out of
it?”
He laid the blade, with which the birch bark had been fastened to the
door, on the table.
All eyes turned on it curiously. There was no doubt about its having
been ground down from a file to a double edge and a point.
“Or,” went on the scout, “who ever knew of a spook stealing to the
front of a hotel and fastening a piece of birch bark to the door,
and using wit enough to do it so quietly that the proprietor of the
hotel, who was asleep in front and not ten feet away, failed to hear
a sound?”
“I reckon ye tally, pard,” said Nomad. “What ye say must er been ther
work of er human bein’, like ourselves.”
“Sure,” grinned Wild Bill. “The dagger and the piece of bark prove
that; and the words on the bark prove that the same person who
fastened it to the door was the one who talked at us from the
basement of the Alcazar. Flesh and blood, no doubt of it; and I’ve
got a hunch Lawless is back of the whole layout.”
The scout was not of Wild Bill’s opinion regarding the question of
Lawless having anything to do with the matter, but recent events were
so obscure that the scout did not attempt to deny something which
_might_ prove to be true.
As people began to come into the dining-room, the matter was dropped,
and the scout and his pards fell to talking on other topics.
Directly after dinner preparations were made for a stay of three days
and nights in the Forty Thieves. A lot of canteens were secured, and
Spangler’s culinary-department was drawn upon for a supply of rations.
By four o’clock Buffalo Bill, Nomad, Wild Bill, Dell, and Cayuse
mounted and rode off down the cañon. Blake, the miner who had been
robbed of his dust and almost killed, was still resting his bruised
limbs on a cot in the general bunk-room. The scout would have
liked to talk further with Blake, but did not esteem the matter of
sufficient importance to wake him for the purpose.
The romance of mining is full of Fortune’s strange freaks. How the
Forty Thieves had come into the hands of Captain Lawless, Buffalo
Bill did not know. Yet, undoubtedly Lawless had prospected the
property and had settled it, in his own mind, that it was worthless.
Had he not thought it of no value, he would hardly have turned it
over to the scout as a gift, even with “a string to it.”
Lawless had fooled himself. The rich vein had been lost--it had not
petered out--and, by an accident, Wild Bill had discovered it again.
A small stream ran through the cañon. The stream was little more than
a rill, flowing for most of the cañon’s length under the sand and
rocks, and appearing on the surface only occasionally, where bed-rock
forced the water upward into pools.
At one of these pools, close to the ore-dump of the mine, the scout
and his pards halted and dismounted. The canteens were filled, and
two riatas were spliced together and dropped into the shaft with one
end secured to the platform on the top of the dump.
When everything was ready for the descent, the scout placed to one
side a bag of the rations brought from Sun Dance.
“Now, pards,” said he, addressing his friends, “we are not to forget
for an instant that, by going down into the Forty Thieves, we are
playing directly into the hands of Lawless and his gang. Lawless
has something up his sleeve, and we’re going to try and beat him at
his own game. To do this successfully, we can’t _all_ go down the
shaft. The surface must be watched as well as the mine workings; and
our horses have got to be taken care of. This party will have to be
divided, and I have chosen Dell and Cayuse to look after the mounts
and keep keen eyes on the vicinity of the ore-dump.”
Dell’s face fell at this, and the Piute looked his disappointment.
But whenever Buffalo Bill gave an order, there was no setting it
aside.
“Hickok, Nomad, and I,” pursued the scout, “will go into the mine.
As soon as we are down there, Dell and Cayuse will proceed to lower
our canteens and rations--all but the bag which I have set aside for
their use. Then, when the water and grub are lowered, Dell and Cayuse
will pull up the rope and take the horses along the cañon. A quarter
of a mile below the mine a gully breaks into the cañon wall. The
gully is full of scrub, and it will be a good place to hide the live
stock. While one of them watches the stock, the other will watch the
ore-dump.”
“But why pull up the rope, Buffalo Bill?” asked Dell. “If anything
goes wrong, you wouldn’t have any way of getting out of the shaft.”
“If anything goes wrong, Dell,” returned the scout, “it will be up
here. If you and Cayuse keep careful watch, you will be able to
notify Nomad, Wild Bill, and me, and drop the rope for us. If, on
the other hand, any of Lawless’ gang should escape your eyes and try
to come down the shaft, they won’t have our rope to use. Understand?
The three of us are going down there to stay for three days. Your
instructions are simple enough, and I reckon you understand them.
Eternal vigilance is the price of success in this undertaking.”
With that, Buffalo Bill sat down on the edge of the planks and slowly
lowered himself into the black maw of the shaft.
“All right, pards!” came his muffled voice from the darkness, a few
moments later.
Wild Bill descended next, and Nomad next. When they reached the
bottom of the shaft, the scout had secured one of the candles left in
the mine during their recent visit, and had lighted it.
“Everything looks like it did when we was hyar last,” said Nomad,
peering about him in the flickering gleam of the candle.
“Nothing is changed,” returned Buffalo Bill, “and there’s no one here
besides ourselves. I have been to the end of the level, and I am
positive of it. Haul up the rope, Dell,” he shouted, “and lower the
grub and the water.”
Dell and Cayuse, their forms silhouetted against the background of
sky overhead, could be seen bending over the mouth of the shaft and
pulling up the rope.
In a little while the provision-bags and the canteens were lowered,
untied from the end of the rope and carried by Nomad and Wild Bill
into the level.
“Now,” cried the scout, “haul up the rope, Dell, and go off to the
gully with the horses.”
“You’re sure there’s no one down there besides yourselves?” called
the girl anxiously.
The scout’s reassuring laugh bounded upward between the rocky walls.
“We’re absolutely sure, Dell. We’re safe enough down here. If there’s
any trouble, the chances are that you and Cayuse will see the most of
it. Don’t do any worrying about us.”
“I don’t know,” answered Dell, “but I’ve got a feeling that there are
some--some disagreeable surprises in store for all of us.”
“Let ’em come!” whooped Wild Bill. “We’re not looking for trouble,
but you can bet your spurs we’re not going to dodge any.”
Slowly the rope was drawn upward, untied from the plank platform, and
Dell and Cayuse vanished from the mouth of the shaft.
Wild Bill, having carried his load of water and food into the level,
had returned to the scout in the shaft; but Nomad had pushed along
toward the end of the level.
The surprises began at once, and almost at the very moment Dell and
Cayuse left the ore-dump. This, the first of the strange events, was
ushered in by a wild yell from the old trapper.
“By gorry!” exclaimed Wild Bill, dashing into the level, “Nomad’s
struck a snag, first crack out of the box.”
The trapper had secured a candle when he and Wild Bill began carrying
the canteens and provision-bags into the level. The scout likewise
had a candle, and made haste to follow Hickok into the pitch-dark
passage.
Cody could not imagine what it was that had brought that yell from
his old pard. It wasn’t a shout of fear, but rather of surprise and
consternation. Apart from his superstitious vagaries, the old trapper
did not know the meaning of the word “fear.”
Wild Bill, stumbling along somewhat in the lead of the scout, kept
watching for the glimmer of Nomad’s candle. The tunnel was full of
angles, and Wild Bill went clear to the breast of it, and whirled
around with his back to the rocks. He had not found a trace of the
trapper in the entire length of the level!
“Well!” exclaimed Wild Bill, looking blankly into the scout’s face.
“What sort of a hocus-pocus do you call this, Cody? Disagreeable
surprises! By gorry, Dell was right. We no more than get into the
mine before they’re sprung on us.”
Without speaking, Buffalo Bill turned and picked his way back to the
shaft, sweeping the candlelight about him and examining every nook
and cranny as he went.
He saw nothing of Nomad.
Midway between the breast of the level and the shaft was the opening
into the short “drift.”
Still keeping his thoughts to himself, the scout whirled away from
the shaft and went into the “drift.” The cross-section dimensions
of the “drift” were the same as those of the main level, but it was
scarcely more than fifteen feet long.
A débris of broken stone littered the floor of the “drift,” but the
scout was not long in discovering that his old pard was not there.
Setting the candle down on a rock, he made a trumpet of his hands.
“Nomad!” he roared, at the top of his voice.
The echoes boomed through the underground galleries, but echoes alone
answered the scout’s call.
“I’ll give it up,” said Buffalo Bill, dropping down on the stone
beside the candle. “Nick isn’t in the mine, that’s sure.”
“And he didn’t get out of the mine through the shaft,” observed
Wild Bill. “There may be an air-shaft somewhere that we don’t know
anything about. If Nomad found such a shaft, it would be easy for him
to give us the slip.”
“There isn’t such a shaft!” declared the scout. “Even if there was,
Hickok, why should Nick give us the slip?”
“He wouldn’t want to, of course; but he was in the mine one minute,
and out of it the next. He met with foul play, and it was of the
mighty sudden kind. Lawless is back of it--that goes without saying.”
“I presume you are right,” said the scout, “and if you _are_ right,
Hickok, there’s more to this mine than we have yet begun to discover.”
“There must be old workings, Cody, which have been closed up.”
“Nick’s disappearance can’t be explained in any other way. I suppose
Nick saw Lawless or one of his men, and was struck down before he
could do anything more than give that one yell; then he was dragged
through some hole that we haven’t been able to find.”
Buffalo Bill got up and took the candle.
“I didn’t come here to lose any of my pards, Hickok,” he went on,
“and I don’t intend to. We’ve got to find the route Nick traveled
when he left, and follow it.”
“We’ll get him back,” averred Wild Bill, with a resolute snap of the
jaws, “no matter how much of a ‘plant’ Lawless has down here.”
Thereupon the two stepped back into the main level. Holding his
candle in one hand and a stone in the other, each proceeded toward
the breast of the passage, tapping on the walls as they went.
This maneuver proved fruitless. The stone walls gave back no hollow
sound, and, for all their ears could detect, they might as well have
been tapping against a mountain of granite.
Never before had the king of scouts been so deeply perplexed. An
outlet from the mine seemed such a simple thing to find, and yet it
had baffled him. The whole mystery, in a less matter-of-fact mind
than the scout’s, or Wild Bill’s, would have taken on a supernatural
aspect.
“I’m up the biggest kind of a stump, Cody,” admitted Wild Bill, “and
the more we try to solve the riddle, the higher up I get. The stone
in the wall seems to be as solid as Gibraltar, and if there was a
hole--even a masked opening--leading to another passage, there would
certainly be some kind of a ‘break’ in the side of the level. But
there isn’t any break--the walls are continuous.”
“About where, in this level,” said the scout, “would you say Nomad
was when he gave that yell?”
“He could not have been far from the place where we left the canteens
and the provisions--perhaps about half-way between there and the end
of the level.”
Buffalo Bill went back to the spot indicated by Wild Bill. Flashing
the candle about side walls and roof, something met his eyes. He
examined it for a moment, and then called Hickok.
What the latter saw, when he gained the scout’s side, were words,
written with candle-smoke, on the light-colored stone of the roof:
“_Nuzhee Mona!_”
“What in Sam Hill do those words mean?” cried Wild Bill.
“I wish I knew,” said the scout. “If we knew the meaning of the words
we might get a clue to this tangle. Possibly a friend traced the
words.”
“And perhaps an enemy--Lawless, for instance. If he put those words
there, Cody, they mean a threat of some kind.”
“The voice we heard in the Alcazar was the voice of a friend; the
voice used those two words; it was the hand of that same speaker that
pinned that piece of bark to the door of the hotel; and, it naturally
follows, the same hand must have put the words on the roof of this
tunnel.”
“You make out a good case, Cody, but why all this secrecy? Why
doesn’t the person, if really a friend, come out face to face with
you and tell you what to expect, instead of dodging around cellars,
visiting hotel doors mysteriously, and then sneaking into the Forty
Thieves, and leaving those two words?”
“We don’t know what the woman has to work against, or how she is
hampered in her attempts to warn us.”
“Woman?” echoed Wild Bill.
“Certainly. That voice we heard in the Alcazar was a woman’s voice.”
“An Indian, too, by gorry! Have you any idea who it could be?”
The scout was thoughtful for a moment.
“Who could this mysterious friend be, if not Wah-coo-tah?” he said
finally.
“By gorry, you’ve hit it!” exclaimed Wild Bill. “I hadn’t thought of
Wah-coo-tah. She is very friendly toward you, but she doesn’t like
Dell a little bit. Say, I’ll bet a hundred against a last year’s
bird’s nest that Wah-coo-tah’s the girl who was trying to steer us
away from this trap.”
“The more I think about it,” said the scout, “the more reasonable it
seems. The girl, when she left the hotel, went back to her father.
While with him she found out about his plans concerning us. No doubt
she is watched, and finds it impossible to show herself openly to us
and tell what she knows. But all this isn’t helping us to find Nick.”
“Lawless has got him, Cody, and probably he will try the same means
for getting us. We’ll have to be on our guard every minute, or----”
At that instant Buffalo Bill flung down his own candle and knocked
the candle out of Hickok’s hand; then, hurling himself against his
companion, he bore him to the floor of the level, and dropped beside
him.
Before the astounded Wild Bill could ask a question as to the reason
for such an unexpected action, a spurt of flame lit up the passage,
and a rattle of revolver-shots echoed deafeningly between the narrow
walls.
“Lie still!” whispered the scout in Wild Bill’s ear. Then, with a
groan, he cried huskily: “I’m hit! They’ve got us, Hickok.”
A fall of swift feet resounded in the passage, coming rapidly nearer
the two pards; but all was dark, and the scout, scarcely breathing,
lay silently where he was, and waited.
Wild Bill understood the ruse he was playing, and immediately assumed
his own part.
The feet came close, and, from the sound of them, the scout tried to
estimate the number of men in the party. Three, four, five--there
were five, at least, and where had they come from? They were running
from the direction of the breast of the level, so they must have
entered the passage by the same way Nomad had been taken out of it.
“Now, Hickok!” the scout suddenly cried, when he thought the men had
come close enough.
As one man the two pards leaped erect, and flung themselves through
the pitchy darkness at their unseen foes.
The scout caught one burly form in his hands, felt the point of a
knife dig into his sleeve, and struck out with his fist. The man went
down. Another took his place, and, in the narrow confines of the
level, a fierce hand-to-hand fight was soon in progress.
Not a word was spoken by the combatants. Only the sound of their
labored breathing, the shuffling of their feet on the rocky floor,
and the thump of fists, broke the tomblike stillness of the mine.
Neither the scout nor Wild Bill dared use a revolver. Unable, as they
were, to see a hand before their eyes, they might have hurt each
other by promiscuous shooting.
Both the pards were putting up a gallant fight against odds; and,
just when it seemed as though they were to win out, Buffalo Bill was
caught by a random blow, whirled half-around; and sent stumbling
over a stone on the floor of the passage.
He tried desperately to regain his balance, failed, and plunged
headlong into the rocky wall. The next instant his senses left him,
and he knew no more.