by Leroy Yerxa
they had to offer.
For the first time Blake realized just how large operations had been;just how close the Silver Masks were to ruining the industry Ferrell hadpainstakingly built up.
Men appeared from a long row of doors worked into the cliff side. Theyall looked alike in the black suits and glittering silver masks. Toolsof every description had made their appearance. Beyond the doors fromwhence they had come must be a complete set of living quarters withaccess to the outside world.
Common sense told Blake that the entrance through which Mono 6 hadarrived was now carefully sealed. If he was to solve the mystery ofGrudge Harror's plans and make escape possible, it would be necessary togo through those doors. Harror himself was there somewhere, and Blake'sfists ached to meet the man alone.
* * * * *
"My golly," O'Toole breathed. "They all look alike. What you supposethey'll do with us? Must be forty or fifty people on this set of cars."Blake turned away from the window.
"If the train were wrecked," he said in a matter of fact voice, "they'dtake everything off it and leave it here. With passengers on board, theyhave to remove the baggage and movable parts. After that...."
"After that, we'll all go to hell the fastest way," O'Toole said withgrim lips. "Let's get something started. I can't sit still until theydecide what to do with us."
"If I'm not mistaken," Blake said grimly, "they have us all disposed ofwell in advance. You mentioned just one thing that may help us out."
"If I did," O'Toole admitted, "It was just crazy luck."
"They all look alike." Blake stood up, studied O'Toole carefully, andsaid. "We're going to join the gang of the Silver Masks."
O'Toole grinned.
"Just like that," he said dryly. "And this guy Harror is going to shakeour hands and say, 'Glad to see you're with us, boys.'"
Blake was already out of the smoking lounge. He went toward the end ofthe car with a swift, determined stride. Ferrell and Dauna had been atthe window and as he approached the door leading outside, they turned.
"Hold it, Jeff," Ferrell said. "You're going to do something foolish andI won't have it."
"We've already got ourselves into a pretty foolish mess," Blake remindedhim almost bitterly. "If I can do any good by trying, I don't want youto interfere. It may be too late."
Dauna barred his way to the door. Her face was drawn and bloodless.
"You're going to face that giant, Harror," she pleaded haltingly. "Jeff,please...?"
He took her hands in his, and smiled down at her.
"Wade wouldn't want you to put on a scene," he said gently. "I'm in thisthing up to my neck. Wade's name and my own are both involved."
She hesitated and stepped away from him. Her arms dropped hopelessly.
O'Toole reached the door with Blake.
"What are the plans," he asked? "I'm in on them remember."
"Then start howling at the top of your lungs," Blake grinned. "CallHarror every name you ever heard of, but remember there are women in thecar. We're going to get dragged out of here and have a talk with thatfreak."
O'Toole nodded.
"Okay!" he said. "I get the idea. If we can be bad boys, maybe Harrorwill spank us himself."
"He'll try," Blake answered quietly. "From then on it will depend on uswho does the punishing."
* * * * *
Blake turned to the door and ignoring Dauna, started to pound on it withall his strength, O'Toole added his weight to Blake's and they startedto shout loudly.
"We want to sock that big goon, Harror," O'Toole howled. He turned andwinked at Dauna. "How'm I doing?" he asked.
Dauna smiled gamely.
"So well, you'll probably be shot at once," she said. "Please Blake, becareful."
They pounded again, harder than ever. The door started to sway andbuckle under their weight. There was a heavy step outside, and a murmurof angry voices.
"Shut up in there."
"We want to talk with your boss," Blake shouted. "Let us out or we'llclean up on the whole gang of you."
The door swung open, and a guard came in. Two more were close behind.Guns swung around, covering the car.
"You'll talk with Harror," the first man said. "And you'll be damnedsorry you did."
He pushed a gun into Blake's side.
"Now walk," he ordered. "And walk straight. No monkey business."
O'Toole started to follow them.
"You're staying here," the guard growled. "This monkey is going to getthe business."
O'Toole reddened with rage.
"Why you masked ape," he said. "Let me out of here or I'll push yourchin into your scalp."
That did the trick. The second guard twisted around and punched O'Toolein the face. The Irishman reeled, caught himself and said through bloodylips, "You'll pay for that."
The masked man pushed him from the car and O'Toole went a littleuncertainly down the steps and after Blake.
They crossed the floor of the cave toward the series of doors in thewall. Two more guards joined the group and they paused before the firstdoor.
"We got some wise guys," the man who was covering Blake shouted. "Wantto give them a going over, Chief?"
There was a moment of silence. Then Grudge Harror's heavy voice saidfrom beyond the door.
"Bring them in."
Blake kicked the door open and strode into a small, mercury-lightedroom. There was a single chair and the desk behind which Harror wasseated. His huge arms rested across its top. His expression darkened ashe saw Blake.
"What's he been up to?"
The guard stepped close to Harror and pocketed his weapon.
"He was shouting his head off," he said. Then, in an almost apologeticvoice he added, "The Irishman insisted on coming along."
* * * * *
Blake's eyes were on Harror's face. The giant's fists were clenched, hislips tight and cruel. He was searching for something.
"All right," Harror growled finally. "What's the game?"
"Nothing," Blake answered shrewdly. "We were waiting for you to murderus, and got impatient, that's all."
Two of the guards left and Harror swung to his feet. He was leering.
Blake watched the remaining guards from the corner of his eye. O'Toolewas still standing quietly by the door, alert and ready. He saw Blake'seye on his, and winked deliberately. O'Toole, Blake decided, was readyany time.
"You were right on the murder angle," Harror admitted. "Pretty smart,ain't you?"
"About some things," Blake admitted. "I don't fall for everything I readin the papers. I know you used a hidden mono track to get us here, andthat you'll probably send us back over it into a nice deep canyon, whenyou have everything you want off the train."
Harror leaned over silently and spat into his face. Blake saw red. Witha lightning thrust he smashed the lamp from the table and plunged theroom into blackness. From O'Toole's side of the room a ray gun belchedfire, but Blake was already out of range. He heard a cry of pain andrealized that Harror had caught the flame on the arm. Harror, outlinedin the light of the ray was almost on top of him.
From the spot where O'Toole had been, Blake heard a sullen thud and along groan of pain. Dodging from Harror's plunging fall, Blake knewO'Toole was doing his part. He grasped the edge of the table and triedto thrust it in front of Harror. The man swore loudly and kicked itaway. There was a slit of light coming from under the door.
In its path, Blake saw Harror standing above him, a hairy fistdescending like a ton of lead. He twisted his face around, sensedHarror's blow miss him by a fraction of an inch. Diving low he hitHarror a body blow with his shoulder and the giant doubled in pain.Blake swung upward before Harror could regain his balance, and set hisfist crashing into Harror's face. The giant swung backward like anenraged elephant. Two more flashes of electro-fire went spurting overhis head and O'Toole started to sing in a loud, off-key voice.
"Slug 'em," O'Toole chan
ted. "It's the Irish that are in this messtonight."
In the darkness, Blake grinned painfully. His lip was split andbleeding. His arm ached from the forceful contact with Harror's jaw.
Another guard went down in the scuffle and O'Toole howled his battle cryagain.
* * * * *
Harror was silent. Blake changed his position
