Then the mask concealed the upper half of the tall man's face. His shirt and neckerchief were quickly donned and last of all the hat and gunbelt. Now he was once more the familiar Lone Ranger. He turned to face the bed.
Steve Delaney was glaring above the gag with venomous eyes that had the dark, beady stare of a deadly serpent.
A slight tap sounded on the door. The Lone Ranger opened it to admit his faithful Indian companion. Tonto entered the room, closing the door behind him. For half a moment the Indian stood surveying the scene, his sharp eyes missing no detail. Near the foot of the bed, on the floor, there was a small pile of brilliantly sparkling jewelry. Tonto's glance fell on this, then he looked at the man in the mask.
"Delaney had that hidden beneath the floor," said the Lone Ranger in reply to Tonto's unvoiced question. "You were a long time getting here, Tonto. Did something happen that we didn't count on?"
Tonto shook his head. "Tonto do what you tell," he said flatly. "Me throw knife. Miss-um feller in bed by small space. Then Tonto run fast. Leave hotel. Circle wide. Then come here."
The Lone Ranger nodded. "You gave Higgy to understand it was Steve Delaney who sent you there to throw the knife at him?"
The Indian nodded emphatically.
"Then why hasn't he come here?"
"Me not know."
"I figured that as soon as he could get away from the hotel, he would come here to deal with the men whom he thought tried to have him killed. I waited in the front, disguised as Delaney, in case Higgy came through that way, and I listened for some sign that he had come through the rear of this building and found Delaney there on the bed. But he hasn't put in an appearance."
"Who that?" asked Tonto, pointing to the trussed up bartender.
"That's Baldy, the barman, who saw through the disguise. He had to be brought here so he couldn't let anyone else know about it."
Tonto nodded. Then he noticed the manner in which the Lone Ranger held his left arm and insisted upon examining the wound. The Lone Ranger let the Indian examine the ugly gash with critical eyes, then waited patiently while Tonto washed it once again, and applied a fresh bandage.
Baldy was fully conscious by this time, and like Steve Delaney, hung on every word that passed between the Lone Ranger and Tonto. "I was sure," the masked man said, "that Higgy would confront Steve Delaney and that there would be some sort of a showdown. If only those two can be made to talk, I think there will be a lot of facts brought to light. And I'm sure that one of those facts will explain the murder of Mrs. Prindle, and the position Dave Walters occupies. They wanted to frame him for some very definite reason. Perhaps they simply felt that the murder would be closed, with the hanging of Dave, but there may have been a further reason. Another thing I'd like to know. Why was Mrs. Prindle murdered? Did she know something that Delaney was afraid she would tell? Is there a connection between that poor old lady and the robberies that have been going on at John Langford's home? Why was Langford made to hand over his wife's jewelry, then lie about a robbery? What hold has Steve Delaney over that poor old man? What hold has Higgy on Delaney? There are so many things that must be answered, and I feel somehow that Steve and Higgy can supply everyone of the answers."
Tonto listened and nodded while the masked man spoke.
The Lone Ranger turned to the gambler. "Delaney," he said, "you have heard what we said here. You must realize by this time that Higgy thinks you planned to kill him so you wouldn't have to split the cash or jewelry with him. He'll come gunning for you. Even though you meet him with your hands untied, your muscles will be lame and stiff from being bound. You'll have no chance against him in a gunfight. Do you want to save your life by talking and answering all the questions I've just asked, or do you want to face the man who thinks you tried to murder him?"
Delaney glared at the masked man.
"You can answer me by nodding or shaking your head. Do you want to talk?"
Delaney's black eyes flashed defiance as he shook his head.
The Lone Ranger said, "Very well, Delaney, you'll just have to take what comes." But in his heart he knew he could not leave Delaney to be murdered. He wondered where Higgy was. The odd-looking man should have been here some time ago. The masked man, of course, had no way of knowing that fate had brought about a meeting between Higgy and John Langford and that the two were housed in Langford's woodshed at that very moment.
Chapter XVI
DAVE IS CAPTURED
For the first time in countless dreary weeks, Dave Walters felt the strange sensation of absolute security. He felt confident that the tall, strong, masked man and the stolid but pleasant Indian would in some way aid him in his difficulty. The cave to which they had brought him seemed a haven where nothing could interfere with his comfort and safety. Sitting at the mouth of the cave in the hot sun of Snake River Canyon, he wished that he were not so helpless, but there was nothing he could do to help the masked man and Tonto.
They had given him definite instructions to stay there and wait for them. They made him understand that there was not a thing he could do in his own behalf, and that he would simply add to their danger if he did not obey their commands. Having been convinced that he could be of no help, he was quite willing to remain there, resting, after the months on the trail.
The rest of the preceding night was refreshing, but it would take many, many nights of rest unbroken by the perils of the past to restore his lost weight and courage.
Behind him in the cave there were reserve supplies, the property of his new-found friends. Extra blankets, countless cans of food, boxes of cartridges, clothing, saddle equipment, a couple of short rifles of the finest manufacture, and moulds for making the Lone Ranger's silver bullets. There was also a keg of gunpowder, a supply of rope, and materials for reshoeing the hoofs of the great horse Silver.
Dave felt that he had been given a trust in guarding these things, an almost sacred trust. He had heard many stories about the Lone Ranger but had never dared hope for the thrilling experience of meeting the heroic figure face to face. Now he was in the Lone Ranger's cave, guarding the masked rider's property. He did not know that this was but one of many such caches scattered at convenient points throughout the region. For all Dave Walters knew, the stores in the cave represented all the masked man's worldly goods, and he was determined that come what might, no one would enter that cave while he was alive.
Yet there seemed no cause for alarm. The cave was certainly in an obscure place, and one could come within a few yards of its opening without realizing that it existed. Dave stretched himself luxuriously, enjoying to the utmost the experience of sitting in the warmth without expecting to be driven away at any instant. Also, the new sensation of having had sufficient food to satisfy him was pleasant.
There was nothing he could do in his own behalf right now. The problem of evading the lynch mob and the law in Snake River had been taken over by his friends, so his thoughts reverted to the main objective of his trip into the Southwest Territory, He had heard that a couple by the name of Langford lived in Snake River. It was this information that had brought the lad to the town where the law had met him with murder charges. He wondered if, by some strange chance, this family could be his own parents. He doubted it. He had followed up so many false leads that actually finding those he loved seemed a remote possibility. Yet he couldn't rest until they had been found alive, or he had proof of their death.
He was glad that he had traveled under the name of Walters, now that this disgrace had fallen on him. If his mother did live in Snake River and heard that her son was charged with murder, it would be unbearable for her. It was bad enough, he felt, for her to know that he had robbed. But did she know? He couldn't be sure of it. He knew his mother's strength was feeble, and that his father would do all in his power to shield from her the news that her son had taken money from the bank.
Dave dozed with his back propped against the side of the cave's entrance. When he wakened, he noted that the shadows were cons
iderably lengthened and judged that it must be late afternoon. He took a refreshing plunge into the water of Snake River, then when he had replaced his tattered clothes, he made a meal of tinned food and hard biscuits. He thought it best not to build a fire since it might attract attention to his hiding place.
He had no idea how long he was expected to wait here for the return of the Lone Ranger and Tonto. They had not said when they would return. They would hardly be back before the following morning, and perhaps not for several days. But it didn't particularly matter. The food was sufficient to sustain a man indefinitely. Dave's only concern was for the safety of his friends, and investigating the family by the name of Langford.
Suddenly Dave froze and listened attentively. The distant clump of a horse's hoof on rock reached his ears. He looked out, his eyes scanning the canyon in both directions. He heard another clump, then others, which indicated that at least two horses were approaching, perhaps more. It could hardly be the Lone Ranger and Tonto returning. They could never have made the town and back by this time. Who else would be in this forsaken part of the country? Whoever it was was still out of sight beyond the bend in the canyon. Dave waited apprehensively for the appearance of the oncoming riders.
There was a steady rhythm of hoofbeats now. Men were riding with a definite purpose, not merely wandering or laboriously following a trail. The fugitive crept forward on a flat slab of rock and lay flat on his stomach to make himself as obscure as possible. Then the horsemen rounded the bend and came into full view. There were eight of them, well mounted and heavily armed with carbines in saddle holsters and six-guns in their cartridge belts. And worst of all, the Sheriff himself was in the lead!
The riders halted about fifty yards away at a signal from the Sheriff. Dave's heart dropped. He was discovered at last, and by eight grim and relentless manhunters! Dave watched the scene, dismayed. He saw the Sheriff's men draw their carbines from the saddle boots, and the late sun glinted from the grim barrels. There was a short conference among the men, and then they spread out fanwise in a semicircle around the place where Dave was waiting. They must have known that he was there. How could they know it? Had the Lone Ranger been captured and compelled to betray Dave Walters? That was incredible. Dave felt that the masked man would have died before divulging the hide-out. What was Dave to do? There seemed but one answer. He must defend himself and the Lone Ranger's property. Shoot it out with these manhunters. Kill them, all of them if need be, but they must not learn the secret of the cave.
Dave scurried back inside and picked up the gun he had taken from Eph Summers, the guard in the jail. He found another rifle but could not find ammunition for it. Dave did not know that Tonto had concealed the cartridges to match the rifles, and left only cartridges that would not be usable in any of the weapons at hand. But Dave still had Eph Summers's gun and the gun held six bullets. He would make the most of these, he decided, then rush the men to meet them hand to hand. The least he could do was to go down fighting.
Dave returned to his place on the slab of rock and watched. He saw the sun glint from the Sheriff's badge, and steadied Eph's gunsight on the metal. Then he heard a shout from the lawman. "Come out with your hands up, or we'll come an' take you." Dave responded by squeezing the trigger. But to his consternation, the hammer fell with a metallic click.
Once more Dave Walters fired, and again the hammer fell with a click but no explosion. He almost sobbed in despair. Hurriedly he "broke" the six-gun and saw that the chambers in the cylinder were empty. Once more he raced for the cave and nervously pawed through the supply of ammunition. There was plenty of it, but none to fit the gun of the prison guard.
Meanwhile, the lawmen were advancing, moving from rock to rock, taking full advantage of each natural barricade for a moment, then making a dash for the next one nearer the cave. So far not a shot had been fired.
Dave decided on a desperate measure. He wanted above all to protect the Lone Ranger's secret. He leaped suddenly forward, into full view of the men, with the six-gun in his hand held leveled at the Sheriff. "Don't you come any nearer," he yelled at the top of his voice. "If you do, I'll open fire on the Sheriff."
Dave did not think it odd that no one fired on him. He did not know that the Lone Ranger, posing as Steve Delaney, had ordered the Sheriff to bring Dave Walters in alive. He thought it was fear of what he might do that caused those men to hold their fire.
"I'll surrender," he shouted, "I'll surrender to you but don't come nearer if you want the Sheriff to live."
"Come 'long, Dave Walters," the Sheriff cried. "You're showin' the first sign of good sense since we first picked you up. Throw down that gun an' walk to me with yer hands above yer shoulders."
Dave walked slowly forward but retained the gun. "I'm holdin' the gun on you," he replied in a shout, "but I'm willin' to give myself up on one condition."
"What's that condition?"
"That you start right back for Snake River."
The Sheriff laughed. "That's one thing we're downright anxious to do," he replied. The other deputies abandoned their rocks and closed in. In a moment Dave Walters found himself surrounded by the lawmen. The Sheriff disarmed him, and Eph cried, "Lemme see that shootin' iron. That looks like my property."
"Take it," said the Sheriff, handing it over.
"If it had been loaded," muttered Dave, "you wouldn't have got me without some loss of life, but a man can't do much with an empty gun."
Eph examined the weapon and then looked with a trace of admiration at the lean face of Dave Walters, but he made no comment.
There was a little suspicion in the Sheriff's voice when he said, "You was doggone eager to surrender yerself."
"What else could I do?"
"I dunno," the lawman replied, "but I reckon you must've heard that Steve Delaney gave us strict orders that we wasn't to harm you."
"Delaney did that?" asked the surprised Dave.
"He did. Otherwise, we'd have welcomed the chance to shoot it out with you."
"But-but I thought," faltered Dave, "he was the one that tried to get me lynched last night."
"I wouldn't know about that," fibbed the Sheriff.
"And he was the one," Dave went on, "who had me picked up and charged with murder in the first place. It doesn't seem natural for him to want me brought back to town alive, unless he wants the personal pleasure of killing me."
At the Sheriff's command, Dave mounted the horse the lawmen had brought along for him to ride. Before he started, he sought the answer to a question which was foremost in his mind. "How did you know where I was?"
"Delaney told us," replied the Sheriff shortly. "Now start ridin'."
That answered nothing so far as Dave was concerned. The mystery remained. How did Steve Delaney know where the hiding place was? If that gambler who had lied Dave into a murder charge knew where the Lone Ranger's secret cave was located, what would he do to the Lone Ranger? Dave, even though he was recaptured by the law, felt more worried now than ever before. It was not his own life that he worried about. It was a life far more important—the life of the Lone Ranger.
Chapter XVII
HIGGY HEADS FOR TROUBLE
John Langford was by far the more composed as he sat in the woodshed with Higgy despite the fact that Higgy held a heavy gun in his hairy hand and took the initiative in their talk. Langford's aristocratic face held a slight trace of amusement, which Higgy resented, yet the apelike man could find nothing to complain about in the aged gentleman's manner. Langford's only apprehension was that his wife might overhear the conversation and be worried.
Higgy settled himself on an upended log of firewood and studied John Langford for several minutes before he spoke. "You've been payin' cash money over to Steve Delaney, ain't yuh?" he demanded.
If Langford was surprised by the statement he showed no sign of it in his thin face. "How do you know that?" he asked meeting Higgy's gaze squarely.
"Neva mine how I know! The main thing is that I do know."
"Then why are you asking me?"
"Because I want tuh know just how much you paid him."
"Is he a friend of yours?"
"What's the difference?"
"I simply asked."
"Well," hesitated Higgy, "he is sort of a friend of mine."
"If you want to know how much I paid him, granting that I have paid him any money, why don't you ask him?"
"He wouldn't tell me," replied Higgy.
"If he wouldn't tell you, he probably doesn't want you to know. In that case, he wouldn't want me to tell you. So I think it will be best if I have nothing to say about it."
"But doggone it," growled Higgy, "you got tuh tell me. That's why I brought yuh here."
"What will you do if I refuse to tell you?" asked John Langford. When Higgy didn't reply he added, "Will you shoot me for refusing to give you the information?"
"Well, yes, dad rat it, Langford, I will shoot yuh if yuh don't tell. I aim tuh git that information fer personal reasons, an' I'll git it or know the reason why."
Langford's face became more serious. "Please keep your voice lower," he cautioned. "I don't want my wife to hear us talking. She's very nervous and anything that might upset her is to be avoided."
"Talk or I'll shoot!" said Higgy in a bullying voice.
"One moment," replied the white-haired man. "You say you will shoot me if I don't tell you how much I have paid Steve Delaney. You don't know how much I have paid him, so you won't know whether I'm telling you the truth or not. Isn't that true?"
Higgy agreed that it might be true. "Very well then, I can tell you anything, and you'd have to take my word for it. You'd know that I told you the figure simply to save my life, and you couldn't possibly know that it was the right figure."
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