"I know where that is," offered one of the deputies.
"There's a cave in the south side of the canyon. You'll have to look closely to find it, but it's there, and that's where you'll find the man you want."
Tonto could hardly believe what he heard. How could this man know of the hiding place? There was murder in the black stare Tonto directed at Delaney. Had the Lone Ranger been captured and, in some way, forced to tell of the hiding place? No, that could not be possible. No amount of pain or torture would unseal the lips of the masked man if another man's life were at stake. But perhaps the Lone Ranger had some purpose in sending the lawmen to bring Dave in. Perhaps, and Tonto hoped fervently that this was the case, the Lone Ranger wanted Dave brought in. The gambler at least had insisted that Dave be brought into the town alive. There was hope in that thought.
"Just one thing," said the Sheriff, "Tell me, Mister Delaney, how in thunder do you learn things?"
"That," replied the tall man, "is none of your business and you're wasting time. If you want to get to Dave before it gets dark, you'd better get started right away. It may take you the rest of the day to find the cave."
"Right," replied Dixon. "We'll start right away." He motioned to his men and they left, heading with long strides for the stable where their horses waited. Tonto remained where he was, his eyes meeting those of the taller man who turned to face him. He saw that Baldy, the bartender, had approached, and also the boy who had been scrubbing the floor. "Do you," said Delaney, "speak English?" Tonto nodded without speaking. "Then how would you like to earn a dollar?" Tonto was about to reply that he wanted to be left alone, and especially wanted him to leave the big white stallion alone. Thinking of the stallion brought a new perplexity to the Indian's mind. Why had Silver, the fiery animal that he was, permitted the stranger to approach and lay a hand upon his back? That was not like the white horse. He glanced back at the tall man, as a jolting thought crashed through his mind. Silver wasn't peculiar. Silver wasn't allowing a stranger to touch him. This tall man was not a stranger to the horse! No disguise could fool Silver. A happy light came into the Indian's eyes and the tall man saw it. He deliberately turned so that his back was toward the others who stood listening and watching and his lips formed a group of peculiar phrases, "Kee-Moh-Sah-Bey." Tonto grinned and nodded. "Me earn dollar."
"Very well then, leave your horses in the stable behind the Royal Flush. You might unsaddle them, since you'll be here for some time and they're cinched up pretty tight."
Tonto loosened the tethers and led the horses around the side of the Royal Flush, with the tall man in Steve Delaney's clothes walking at his side. When it was safe to speak without being overheard by the bartender or the red-haired boy, the tall man explained that he had left the real Delaney gagged and tied in his own rooms. He explained how he had effected the disguise and how successful it had been, so much so that it even fooled the Sheriff who knew Delaney well, and Tonto who certainly knew the Lone Ranger.
"It was lucky," the Lone Ranger said, "that Delaney didn't have any close friends in town. When I learned that he kept pretty much to himself and had moods when he didn't speak to anyone, I thought it might be safe to try to impersonate him. When I had to say so much to the Sheriff, I was sure he'd see through the disguise."
"Him say you sound strange," observed the Indian.
The Lone Ranger nodded. "True, but no matter what the Sheriff suspected, he was too much afraid of Steve Delaney to risk offending him. The Sheriff very likely has to depend on Delaney to hold his job."
"How Delaney get so much power?"
"Practically everyone in town owes money to him. He holds mortgages on almost every farm and ranch around this part of the country. He can foreclose those mortgages whenever he wants to. That's why people give him his way."
Tonto nodded. The two men were in the saddle shed with the door almost closed behind them. Just enough of an opening had been left to let a little light shine through so that they could see what they were doing. Tonto asked the Lone Ranger why he had divulged Dave Walters's hiding place in the distant cave.
"Because I want Dave brought back here," the tall white man replied. "They can't get back to town with him before tomorrow morning, and I hope by that time to have things well straightened out. If not, we'll see that Dave is protected."
"You got proof?"
The tall man shook his head. "Not all of it," he said, moving to the opening of the shed. "I have some proof, but not as much as we will need."
"Lynch mob get-um boy." said Tonto.
"I don't think so," the Lone Ranger said. "If the Sheriff had wanted to do so, he could have stopped the lynchers last night. But he knew that Steve Delaney started the lynch talk, and knew that Delaney would have been furiously angry if it had been stopped. Now, with the Sheriff taking orders from me, thinking I am Delaney, things will be very different when Dave Walters is in jail."
Tonto nodded. The Indian realized that the Lone Ranger suspected the gambler of having a hand in the murder of Mrs. Prindle, but he also knew that it would take a vast amount of very convincing evidence to make any sort of case against Delaney.
"You unsaddle the horses," the Lone Ranger said, "and give them some oats from the box over there in the corner. When you've finished come into the Royal Flush and join me. I'll be at a corner table."
The Lone Ranger left the shed and went around to enter the Royal Flush by the front door. He did not look toward the man behind the bar as he went in. There were so many things about Delaney he didn't know that his role was becoming increasingly awkward. Delaney may have had some habitual gesture of greeting when he entered the Royal Flush, or some nickname by which he addressed the man behind the polished bar. The Lone Ranger, of course was uninformed on these points. He therefore thought it best to maintain an aloof manner; a surliness that would discourage any attempt at conversation. He took a seat at a table near the front of the café and watched the street outside while he waited for Tonto to join him.
He noticed that the dusty street was still almost deserted. Few men showed themselves and those who did come into view moved slowly as if they would have given a great deal to go back to their beds and recover from the late hours of the night before. Presently Tonto walked into the place and took a seat across the table from the Lone Ranger.
"We've had to work alone so far," the Lone Ranger said, "but now, Tonto, with Dave Walters off your hands, we can work together in this town."
"That true?" queried the Indian.
"It certainly is, Tonto. There were several times last night when I'd have given a lot to have had you on hand. But you're here now, and I think the two of us can accomplish a great deal before another sunrise."
Tonto looked extremely pleased at the simple statement of his own importance to the white man. "You got-um plan?" he asked.
"Something of the sort. Do you remember Dave Walters speaking about a man named Higgy?"
Tonto nodded that he did.
"Well, Higgy is across the street in the hotel."
"Him there now?" asked Tonto in surprise.
"He's there now, and I think he'll be there for as long as we want him to be." The Lone Ranger glanced at the bartender who appeared quite uninterested in the two at the table. He was too far away to hear anything that was said between the two friends, but the Lone Ranger nevertheless dropped his voice to almost a whisper. "Here," he said, "is the plan I have in mind."
Chapter XII
HIGGY WAKENS SUDDENLY
The hotel located diagonally across the street from the Royal Flush showed every indication of hard times. It seemed to have grown prematurely old through lack of care. Instead of being a proud two-story building, it looked as though it were somewhat ashamed of the distinction of the second story. The builder, perhaps to economize, had applied one thin coat of paint when the hotel was built, but this had long since chipped and peeled away to expose raw wood to the elements. Dust and rain had scoured, and blistering suns had bleached
the wood until it was almost as white as the bones of long-dead animals on the desert.
A long porch extended across the entire front of the hotel and there had once been a fancy railing and a wide flight of steps. But this was a grandeur of another day. The steps had broken down and had been repaired with odds and ends of any wood available. The railing had been removed in.its entirety at some time or another, and several windows in the front had paper pasted over them to cover up the holes in the glass.
Pete Loomis had bought the hotel from the bankrupt builder. Pete, however, had no illusions about getting rich. To him it simply represented a home with some extra rooms from which he might derive a little cash from time to time.
Having taken over the hotel, Pete installed his wife in a kitchen in the lean-to behind the hotel, then parked his skinny figure behind the desk in the lobby and stayed there, quite content to call it a "job." Sometimes a traveling salesman spent a night beneath the hotel roof, and occasionally when the weather was too bad to sleep beneath the stars, ranch hands in town for a spree would stop there. Pete Loomis realized enough from these guests to supply his wife and himself with food, and so he felt at peace with the world.
Tonto ascended the flight of crudely repaired steps in two strides and crossed the porch. Two battered chairs were placed there and the Indian could barely suppress a grin as he noticed the sign above them that said Keep Off, Reserved For Paying Guests. He knew of one particular paying guest in the hotel, and doubted that this individual would make use of the chairs in the light of day.
As he pushed through the doors that still held multi-colored glass windows, a cloud of dust enveloped him. Mag Loomis was applying a broom with much vigor to the threadbare red carpet of the hall. The dust she stirred up with her daily sweeping simply settled in new places, but Mag felt that she was doing her duty and was satisfied.
Pete Loomis was perched on his favorite stool behind the desk. He lifted his lean chin from his cupped hands at the sight of Tonto and studied the Indian with pale, watery eyes. Mag glanced up, but continued her sweeping. "Injuns," said Loomis, "pay cash money in advance if yuh want a room."
"Me not want-um room," replied Tonto, "me got-um business with feller here."
Mag stopped sweeping. "What," she demanded, "was that you said about business? Any business you got, you can deal with me, an' when cash is paid in advance, it's me that it gits paid to. Now what d'you want?"
"Now, Mag—" began Pete.
"You shut up," snapped the woman. "When you git yer hands on cash you can't rest till you've blowed it over to the Royal Flush. First thing I know you'll be up to your neck in gamblin' debts to Steve Delaney an' then he'll git a mortgage on this hotel the same as he's got on everything else in town." Turning to Tonto the brawny woman said, "What d'you want?"
"Me come," replied the Indian, "to have talk with feller name Higgy. Him here now?" Tonto knew very well that Higgy had not left the hotel. The Lone Ranger had told him so, but he fancied this was the best way to handle the situation.
"Higgy?" inquired Mrs. Loomis. "Who's he?"
"Him come here before sunup," said Tonto.
Turning to her husband, the woman said, "What do you know about someone named Higgy? We ain't had no one come here of late, have we?"
Pete nodded slowly and squirmed uneasily. "Y-yere, Mag," he faltered, "the ornery crittur come here before daybreak an' got me out o' bed tuh let him in. He ain't had no teachin' in the right way of doin' things. I dunno why he couldn't o' sat on the porch till mornin' instead of gittin' a man outen his bed in the middle of the night. He ain't fitten fer a fine woman like you tuh meet, Mag, he's jest plain ignerant an'—"
"Never mind that," interrupted Mag, leaning her broom against the desk and going around it to the inner side. "Did he pay cash in advance! That's what I aim to know." She jerked open a drawer in the desk and looked at an empty cigar box. "I don't see no cash here. How about that?"
"W-well, Mag, he did pay in advance. That's one of the rules of the hotel here, but I—"
"You what?" demanded Mag Loomis. She looked menacingly at her lean husband as she stood there with her hands on broad hips waiting for his reply.
"W-well, it was too late to go back tuh bed after he got me up tuh let him in, an' it was too doggone early tuh sit here an' wait fer customers, an' there was still a lot of folks from out of town hangin' around the cafés, an' I figgered to try an' drum up a little business…"
"So you went to a couple of the cafés an' spent what this crittur paid fer his room! Is that it?"
Pete had no reply. Tonto broke in at that point with the words "Me see Higgy with plenty important message."
"Oh, you still here?" said Mag. "What's the message? Who's it from?"
Tonto pointed through the window at the man who leaned against the front of the Royal Flush. Pete followed the direction with his eyes and saw a tall figure wearing a silk hat. "Steve Delaney, eh? You mean to say he is sendin' a message to our guest?"
Tonto nodded.
"Judgin' from the snorin' that come from his room when I was outside the door half an hour ago," Pete said, "I'd suspect he ain't goin' tuh be awake fer some time to come."
"What's more," said Mag, "if that message you got is anything that is goin' to interfere with this Higgy crittur buyin' his breakfast from me, you better save it fer a time."
"Me see him now," said Tonto flatly without moving from where he stood.
"Reckon we better let the Injun go upstairs if it's Delaney that sent him," suggested Pete. "It ain't good judgment to offend a man like Steve Delaney."
"You ain't owin' him cash, are yuh?" said Mag suspiciously.
"No, of course I ain't," replied Pete with an offended air, "but just the same I—"
"Oh, do what you blame please, it don't matter to me. I'm at my wits' end tryin' to make somethin' of this place in spite of you." Mag grabbed her broom and applied it once more to the carpet to make new clouds rise up.
"The man you're lookin' for is in room Number Seven," Pete told the Indian. "I reckon you c'n find it fer yourself without too much trouble. It's the last room on the left-hand side of the hall after yuh git up them stairs. I'd go an' show you where it is, but my rheumatics have been botherin' me of late."
"Rheumatics!" snorted Mag with a great sweep of the broom. "My eye! Plain good-fer-nothin' laziness."
Tonto crossed the hall and started up the long flight of stairs. His moccasined feet made no sound despite the fact that the stairs were without carpeting of any sort. A shrewd observer might have thought it odd that Tonto ignored the bannister and walked up the stairs as close to the wall as possible. This was a trick frequently used when one wanted to avoid squeaking steps that might betray one's approach. The Indian was playing the role outlined by the Lone Ranger, and wanted, if possible, to gain access to the room, which Higgy occupied, without awakening him.
The corridor on the second floor was carpeted like the first. The once-gay pattern of flowers was barely visible after the years of wear. What pattern there was in the carpet was made by the brown scars of carelessly dropped cigarettes. The optimistic builder of the hotel had made half a dozen rooms on each side of the corridor. Some of the doors still had numbers and on others the numbers had disappeared. Number Seven, as Pete Loomis had said, was the last door on the left.
Tonto crouched for a moment with one ear close to the door. He heard the regular deep breathing of a heavy sleeper. Satisfied that Higgy had not awakened, the Indian straightened and drew a knife with a six-inch blade from his belt. He tested the point of the blade on the ball of his thumb. His lips compressed to a thin line and his face became stern and cold. Holding the gleaming blade in one hand, the Indian gripped the doorknob with the other and slowly opened the door. The hinges were rusty and inclined to squeak, but Tonto moved the door an imperceptible fraction of an inch at a time. He moved it slowly, so slowly that it took a full three minutes before the opening was wide enough for the Indian to pass through.
>
A fetid wave of hot air struck Tonto in the face. The one small window on Tonto's right was tightly closed and the sun streamed through the dirty glass and beat upon the floor. The atmosphere was stale and unbearably hot. Tonto marveled that a man could sleep here.
Only the top of Higgy's head was visible above the edge of the patchwork quilt that rose and fell with each deep, wheezy breath. Tonto paused long enough to survey the room. He saw the heavy boots of the man on the floor beside the bed. Coat, vest, and necktie were tossed in a careless heap on the one chair in the room. A well-filled cartridge belt hung from the back of the chair, but the holster was empty. Tonto surmised that Higgy slept with his gun beneath his pillow. A cracked mirror hung from the wall above an oak washstand. The floor of the bedroom was uncarpeted.
Tonto took great pains to close the door as silently as he had opened it. Then he transferred his knife to his right hand and studied the high oak backboard of the bed. He carefully noted a particular spot on the wood above the head of Higgy and gauged the distance carefully. The spot had become a bull's eye for Tonto. The crucial moment in the carefully planned scheme of the Lone Ranger was at hand. Tonto had to play the game carefully and according to the minute directions he had been given.
He held the knife by the end of the blade in a position for throwing and then spoke softly. The figure in the bed stirred slightly and Tonto spoke again. "You wake up," he said in a slightly louder voice than before.
Higgy groaned and turned over in the bed. Tonto waited a moment, then spoke a third time. "Wake up, quick!" His voice though still quite soft, was emphatic and brought the desired result. Higgy's huge hairy hands appeared above the quilt, pushed the heavy covering away and brought his face to light. The man's small eyes blinked open and he complained about being disturbed in a voice that was thick with sleep.
"This way," said Tonto.
Higgy blinked a couple of times and then his gaze centered on the tall form of the Indian just inside the door. His mouth dropped open and he stared in surprise. His right hand made a sudden move but halted at Tonto's command. "You stay still," said the Indian in his most menacing voice.
The Lone Ranger and Tonto Page 9
