About a foot out from this wall, standing sinister and black, was the only object within the room, a huge iron safe.
The light of O’Hara’s lantern passed carefully over it and then went on to the fourth wall. The lantern flickered and then beamed steadily upon the gleaming wall. With a shiver of amazement, O’Hara realized that here in this desert spot, in his beloved country, the floor of the garage reached down a full twenty feet of solid concrete emplacement!
Astounded beyond measure, he recalled the many reports he had heard about the huge concrete emplacements supposed to have been built by the Germans during the war, and even before the war, in various parts of the United States.
He had not believed these reports at the time. They had seemed too incredible. He had considered them figments of imaginations that had been fired by the fears and excitements of war. No, such things were too fantastic for sane, sensible Americans to believe. It was impossible that our country would be betrayed by those whom she had welcomed so heartily to her shores.
But here in this desert spot, for an unknown purpose, stood tangible evidence that these reports were true. They were not idle fancies. And, so, it must likewise be true that America did harbor base creatures who would sell their adopted country’s honor for gold and silver, men who sought to injure her, and lower her prestige in the eyes of the world. Very well, it would be America’s duty henceforth to ferret out these creatures. It would be her duty to strip them of the possessions and privileges that a generous country had showered on them with a profuse hand.
Again and again these reflections kept running through O’Hara’s mind, as he explored every nook and cranny of the curious subterranean hiding-place. He wondered what criminal plan had dictated the construction of this great gun emplacement. Where did Brown intend to get the enormous gun that such a base would accommodate? These questions were too deep for solution. Perhaps the future would supply an answer.
O’Hara looked at his watch and found it had been about twenty minutes since he saw the dust of the approaching automobile. He figured that the officers were just now arriving at the place, but of course no sound could penetrate to his dark hiding place. Wishing to save the oil, he turned out his lamp and sat down on the hard sand of the floor. He placed his shoulder against the back of the safe so that he would be facing the one ray of light which struggled in from the hole above, and settled down to wait.
Thus it happened that he was entirely invisible when the opening in the wall suddenly revolved again. Thinking merely to remain quiet until Tom Whalen called him, O’Hara made no move. He heard the sound of two voices, one undoubtedly that of Jo the Jap, the other with an Irish accent.
“Sure,” the latter was saying, “I’m after helping ye turn the trick. Begore, I hate the English, but niver a cint have I seen yit, and the money will be welcome,” and there squeezed through the opening a small, red-headed, freckled-face Irishman, wearing a detective’s star.
“I’ve saved ye from suspicion time and agin,” he grumbled, “and now I come with the crowd to-day fer pay, and shure, I’ll be after gettin’ of it.”
The Japanese had been carefully covering the tank, and now he turned softly toward the safe. The combination came quickly and deftly to his fingers, and O’Hara could hear the safe swing back. Then from the comments and remarks of the Irishman, he judged that the latter was being given a portion of his ill-gotten gain.
“All right,” he now said in a pronounced brogue to the quiet servant, who as yet had spoken no word; “I’ll be after hurryin’.” He then added: “Raise the door quick; sure and I can’t be missed.” Then as he evidently tucked away his money in his pockets, he added a sentence which made O’Hara’s breath come quick: “It’s a hen party we be after havin’; there’s two gurrls joined the chase and a lad along with ‘em. It’s shrewd and wide-awake they be, I’m tellin’ ye!”
While he was speaking, the Jap crowded quietly to the trap door of the tank and cautiously glanced around. “All right,” he whispered, and the Irishman extinguished his light and followed him.
Quick as a flash O’Hara crawled around the safe and reaching in the open door took out a package from the lower shelf. Instantly he was back, and then the Japanese returned. He closed the door of the safe and leisurely turned and secured the lock. Then quietly as ever he slipped up the secret entrance.
When he was positive the man had gone, O’Hara sat for a moment almost stunned by the hope that Mary Louise and Danny had come again to save him. Then he lit his lamp and flashed it upon the package in his hand. It was just such a package as he had hoped to attain. Sheet after sheet of documents relating to the Mexican lands and oil wells, one or two translated into code. With great care he placed them, equally divided, in the two inside pockets of his coat. Then again he settled down to wait and to plan his escape. For now O’Hara realized clearly that even if he were arrested, he must hand these papers to the government he loved.
CHAPTER XXIII
THE RIDE AT NIGHT
The long, delightful days of summer stretched before the happy tourists in Mary Louise’s car. Every day seemed to beckon them on to further adventure, and each evening found them further along in their journey, weary and eager for rest, but expectant of the morrow. Often Mary Louise and Danny spoke in low tones to one another of the kindly man they were hastening to help. They had much to say in these days of happy, intimate companionship — much to tell each other of their hopes and aims, their likes and dislikes. They were very young and filled with the joy and wonder of mere living, and though often they were longing to know of O’Hara’s safety, still their spirits could not be dampened, and their happiness soared very high.
To Colonel Hathaway, the changing scenes and the changing personalities along the way were like a tonic.
The old gentleman was a born traveler and always took the rough places with the smooth, so that he made a splendid companion with whom to take the road. On this trip he was thoroughly enjoying the ecstacy with which Irene greeted every lovely scene they passed. Her cheeks were taking on a healthy flush that made the dear friends with her very glad, and day by day they all could see how she was gaining strength.
So on they went as day by day their car carried them across uplands and through valleys, now humming for miles through waving fields of grain, and again running through the lowlands near some river bed. One State after another they left behind as the days sped by, and always some new beauty lay before them.
Old Uncle Eben carefully forwarded all their mail, and each day Danny and Mary Louise watched eagerly for some word from O’Hara. But each day they were doomed to disappointment. The letters which came frequently from Josie, however, kept up their hopes mightily. Crocker, it seemed, had returned East disgustedly, but Josie was each day scouring the country in some new direction. One day when they had reached a spot not far from Albuquerque Mary Louise opened a letter from Josie, as she was rocking on the wide veranda of the hotel in the twilight.
Josie had scrawled on bright pink paper:
“DEAREST MARY LOUISE:
If you only knew how happy and glad and generally rejoicey I am to think that you and Grandpa Jim and Irene will be with me in two days! I’ve been hot and homesick ever since I came, but now I do believe it’s going to be worth while to have stayed.
“There’s a small ranch out about forty miles from here. It’s the mystery of the countryside, though there’s nothing ever seemed wrong with it, and O’Callahan, the little Irish detective, swears there’s nothing wrong. You see, they have two men besides the ‘Boss’ — one, a huge, criminal-looking creature, and the other, a little Jap. The other evening I motored out that way and when the boss and his wife were out in front I saw through my field glasses that three men entered the kitchen!
“Now that looks strange to me. O’Callahan has always scoffed at our going there as nonsense, but to-morrow, willy-nilly, Josie O’Gorman is going out to that place and ferret out that man.
Who kno
ws when you come on the next day my work may be done, and oh, won’t I jump at the chance of going on with you on your perfectly grand trip? —
Devotedly,
“JOSIE.”
Mary Louise silently handed the letter to Danny who sat on the veranda steps at her feet. Danny Dexter glanced over the letter and then up at Mary Louise. Their thoughts were evidently alike for both exclaimed in unison: “We’ll have to travel to-night.”
“And start immediately,” added Mary Louise. Then without further pause, Danny leaped down the steps and out to the automobile to prepare it for the long and sudden trip before them.
“It’s seven now,” thought Danny, glancing at the auto clock. “With luck we’ll get there by two to-morrow morning. It won’t really be so bad, and the moon is full.”
In the meantime Mary Louise had hastened to her grandfather. “Grandpa Jim, don’t put on those comfortable old slippers. I’ve received a letter from Josie. She expects to catch her forger to-morrow, and,” she truthfully added, “I feel sure we will be needed.”
The Colonel was instantly solicitous for Josie, of whom he was especially fond and whose activity he admired immensely.
“But,” he objected, “can we possibly make it through the night; and what about Irene !” Mary Louise flung her arms about her grandfather’s neck. “I knew just how game you would be!” she declared. “I’ve been thinking about Irene. The wife of the proprietor seems very kind, and I’m sure she’ll start her safely on the train to Albuquerque in the morning.”
Her surmise proved to be correct, and half an hour later the automobile started off.
So it happened that next morning as she entered the dining room of the hotel, Josie’s joy quite flew away with her, as she beheld the tired but victorious faces of her three friends beaming up at her.
“Why — why — you blessed people! How very dear of you to come and go with me to-day,” she stammered. “With Mary Louise to help, I just can’t lose that man again.”
Josie clapped her hands in enthusiasm, and then dug with such unbounded energy into the grapefruit at her plate that her “dear friends” blinked and ducked with great agility.
“Grandpa Jim must go to bed this minute, but we’re ready to go right away,” directed Mary Louise. A few minutes later she kissed the kindly Colonel and watched him mount the stairs. Then turning, she joined Danny and Josie O’Gorman who were already climbing into the waiting auto.
O’Callahan was at the wheel with a tall policeman seated beside him, while Josie, Mary Louise and Danny were seated in the tonneau. Both Mary Louise and Danny must have dozed after their long night ride, for they woke with a start as the automobile slowed down in front of the Brown bungalow.
As Danny stepped from the car he stooped and quietly picked up a small gold pencil half buried in the sand; he knew the pencil and the monogram “J. O’H.” O’Hara had dropped it as he left the automobile that first day and had failed to find it when he searched for it. Clearly then, the uncle that he loved was here and in sure danger.
All that Danny could do was to keep still and watch. And watch he did to no avail. The place was searched from top to bottom. The Browns were graciousness itself, accepting Josie’s apologies for intruding with amusement.
“You are afraid some man is hidden here?” the woman had inquired of the girls, a faint sneer upon her beautiful mouth.
“I shall have to ask you to let us investigate thoroughly,” returned Josie decidedly, and the woman smilingly stepped aside.
Then she shrugged her shoulders. “You see we have no secrets,” she said.
CHAPTER XXIV
MARY LOUISE LOSES HER SLIPPER
When the party had about given up the search, Danny at last found an excuse to get Mary Louise by herself in the shadows of the small garage.
“Let’s sit down a moment by this queer old tank,” he said, “for I’ve something most important to show you, Mary Louise.”
Danny handed her the small gold pencil with its monogram “J. O’H.” Startled, Mary Louise took it from him. “Why — why — Danny, then it is certain that your uncle has been here, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” answered Danny grimly, “and it’s certain he was here yesterday if Josie saw three men!”
“Mary Louise,” he added, “I don’t like this place at all. I can’t tell you how distressed I feel about Uncle Jim. Why, any person on this spot — that beautiful woman included — would kill as indifferently as they’d tell lies!”
Mary Louise was white with horror and her hands were clasped in despair. She was digging with the heel of her little pump into the packed sand as though to tear up the secret of O’Hara’s whereabouts.
Suddenly a strange thing happened. Her toe caught in a running root and pulled the pump from off her foot, and then, wonder of wonders, the pump completely disappeared! Amazement was written wide upon the faces of the two as they stood up to hunt for it. But look as Danny might, with Mary Louise hobbling after him as best she could, there was not a single trace of the missing slipper.
“I sympathized with Cinderella,” ruefully remarked Mary Louise, as she very carefully placed her stocking foot upon some twigs crossed loosely on the ground.
Then she gave a little scream of fright. Her foot had broken through the twigs and she sank to the ground caught in a good-sized hole.
“Oh, I am so sorry!” cried Danny, as he helped her to get her balance again.
Instantly, however, his attention was attracted to the opening Mary Louise’s fall had uncovered. It seemed to be a carefully excavated hole and they could see no bottom to it.
“No wonder,” said Mary Louise, “that my slipper completely vanished.”
Just as she spoke they both leaned forward tensely as a quick flash of light came directly in their faces as they gazed down. It came again as they leaned near.
Quick as a flash Danny leaned over the opening. “Uncle Jim?” he called, his voice trembling with shock and excitement.
“Good boy, Danny!” came O’Hara’s voice, muffled by the earth, but sounding strong and hearty, to Danny’s great relief. “You saw the flash of my lantern?”
“Listen!” quickly continued the voice from the cave. “I’m safe enough, so don’t worry, but I have some important papers to deliver to the government. Danny, I must get them off to-night. Is there any way you can return and meet me?” As Danny stood in thought, Mary Louise touched his arm. “Couldn’t we take you almost here, Danny?” she asked; “Just so they wouldn’t hear the engine. It’s dark to-night, and you could hide in their big motor car perhaps.”
“It’s like you to think of it,” said Danny, admiringly, “and of course I can.”
He repeated the plan to O’Hara below.
“That’s good!” the man said eagerly. “We’ll have to run some risks of course, but it’s our best plan. Now mark me carefully.”
Danny leaned even lower to the opening.
“When they let me out, I’ll put these papers under the back seat of their car. The Jap is evidently ignorant of the fact they put me down here, and does not suspect that anything is missing, so he won’t be especially watchful. Then you hide in the back of the car. Each night he goes upon some errand southward. Ride with him a way and then roll out and wait for your own car. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” answered Danny.
“Then hurry off,” ended O’Hara.
“But,” wailed Mary Louise, “Can’t you fish me out my slipper, Danny? They’ll all wonder where it went.
Danny looked around and saw a long pole leaning against the garage.
“Uncle Jim, will you put the slipper on this stick?” he called down, and in a moment it was balanced to the surface.
Without further speech Mary Louise put it on and the two started slowly, with seeming indifference, back to the house. Almost immediately the party clambered again into their waiting auto and started back for Albuquerque.
Poor Josie O’Gorman was feeling pretty blue an
d discouraged, and she surreptitiously wiped away a few tears from her blue eyes. But soon she was her splendid, cheery self again, and said to Danny and Mary Louise, who sat beside her: “In my business, now and then, we have to learn to be good losers. I want to be a good sport, and I — do admit that this time I’ve been beaten.”
Then her face was lighted up with joy as she turned to Mary Louise and said — “And now I’m ready to finish up your wonderful trip with you.” For the first time in her life Mary Louise felt that she could not tell Grandpa Jim what she was going to do, and she did not like the feeling. But to Mary Louise, as to most American girls, her love of country was the first thing in her life; so after seeing her grandfather comfortably settled at a game of rummy with Irene and Josie, she bade all three good-night and quietly slipped out of the room and down to the hotel corridor.
Danny was waiting for her with a heavy wrap and carefully bundled her up in the seat beside him. Then swiftly they started off.
The evening was cool and crisp as are all desert nights, and they were grateful that there was no moon. Danny and Mary Louise sped along uplifted by their patriotism and the thought that they were helping Uncle Jim. The miles fairly flew beneath the wheels and almost before they realized it they saw the distant lights of the Brown ranch. A mile farther on Mary Louise slowed up the car and Danny jumped out.
“Now I’ll drive round about slowly to the south,” said Mary Louise, “and good luck to you, Danny!”
Danny Dexter pressed the little hand she held out to him for quite a while. It was hard for him to let her vanish alone into the desert. However, it was their duty which lay before them. So, finally, he turned away, and Mary Louise proceeded southward at a brisk pace for a mile or two. Stopping the car, she settled down to her long wait, alone in the vastness of the desert night.
Complete Works of L. Frank Baum Page 635
