CHAPTER IV.
OUT OF THE LION'S JAWS.
Things looked remarkably squally where I was concerned, when, onmy exposure by the genuine tar, the inmates of the den gatheredthreateningly about me.
I attempted to draw my shooting-irons, but desisted as a measure ofprudence when I saw that I should be killed before being allowed to doso.
It might have gone very hard with me, had it not been for thequick-wittedness of the mysterious being known as Shadow.
Several empty beer-glasses were on the table in front of him.
These he caught up, and swiftly and accurately hurled them at thelights--lamps being used in the place instead of gas.
Crash!
Crash!
Crash!
Ban-n-n-g!
One of the heavy beer-glasses had smashed the bottom of one of thelamps, the oil had ignited, and there came an explosion, followed bythe burning oil being scattered in every direction.
Instantly ensued a scene of confusion and consternation.
The oil had set fire to the clothing of several persons, and theycursed and screamed and shouted, as they wildly strove to smother theflames.
Now was my opportunity.
Toward the door I made my way through the surging and excited crowd,some of whom were madly grasping at each other, thinking they werelaying hold on me.
By the fluttering blaze of the burning, oil-soaked clothing of thepersons on fire, I saw which way to go; and I had nearly reached thedoor, when some one cried:
"Be careful, boys! Look out for the door; don't let him escape!"
I made a bolt for the door, and reached it just after another personhad done so.
I up with my clenched fist and toppled him over, and then dashed intothe street and took to my heels, and did not halt until I was a blockfrom the place.
This was not caused by fear, for I could easily have summoned half adozen policemen to my assistance.
No matter how wicked a man may be, he has rights under the law as wellas anybody else, and unless I knew or suspected him (for good reasons)to be guilty of some particular crime, I had no business to interferewith him.
So I did not wish to make any further move by making any arrests of theinmates of the dive.
Nor, on the contrary, did I wish to give them an opportunity of puttinga surreptitious bullet in me.
And again, I had begun to consider Shadow as an ally of mine, and didnot wish to run the risk of upsetting or balking any scheme he might beworking up through his presence in that place.
Nevertheless, I naturally felt resentful toward the men who, for amoment, had my life in their power, and who seemed inclined to usetheir power. But I knew them all, and I would have my revenge when,some day--as they surely would--they fell into the strong grasp of thelaw.
I hung around the vicinity for an hour or more, but as I saw nothing ofShadow, I concluded to turn my steps homeward, and did so.
And Shadow?
He, too, had started toward the door, but had been too slow in hismovements to reach it before it was barricaded.
Made aware that he could not pass through it, he quietly made his wayback to where he had been sitting, and there sat down again, justbefore a lamp was hastily lighted.
By this time the ignited clothing had all been extinguished, with nomore results than a few painful burns, and consequently the firstthought of everybody was concerning the detective.
But he was gone.
That somebody had escaped they knew, but had clung to the hope that itwas one of the tars, who had been frightened and bolted out.
But, no, the half-drunken sailors were all huddled together, gazingstupidly about them, not knowing what was to come next.
Some of them had drawn the tar's never-absent companion, theirdirk-knives, and were prepared to make resistance in case all thisrow was but a blind to cover up an attack on them for the purpose ofrobbing them.
But robbing the tars was the thing furthest from the minds of thatrascally crew just at that moment.
They had threatened the life of a detective, he had escaped, and theythought the consequences would be a descent on the place, as soon asenough blue-coats could be gathered for the purpose.
"Now--who fired those beer-glasses?"
The bullet-headed proprietor of the "ranch" asked this question in agruff tone.
Instantly they began eying each other, and slowly but surely pair afterpair of eyes were fastened on Shadow.
"Run out these Jacks."
Immediately the tars were told to "vamose"--"vacate"--"skip"--and thedoor being held open for them, they lost no time in giving the place awide berth.
The proprietor sharply eyed those who remained.
All were friends.
Making a sign to a couple, they separated from the rest, who were thentold to "skip and lay low."
Shadow made no attempt to leave with this departing crowd.
He knew that it would be useless, in addition to which it would haveimplied that he had heard and understood, which would not have been inkeeping with his assumed character of a deaf and dumb person.
"Now, then," said the bullet-headed proprietor, when none but a trustedfew were left in the place, "into that 'cubby' of ours with him!"indicating Shadow.
The latter eyed them with blank astonishment when they laid hands onhim, and signed to know what it meant. And when they commenced runninghim across the floor, he struggled to prevent them.
But he became quiet when one of them placed the muzzle of a revolver tohis temple.
He made no further resistance, but allowed them to gag him, andshove him into a little black cubby-hole or closet, whose door was asegment of the wainscoting, undiscoverable to a person unaware of itsexistence, save by the closest scrutiny.
The door was banged shut, and Shadow was left to his own reflections inthe cramped confines of the dark and moldy-smelling closet.
He was left here until all danger of a raid was thought by theproprietor to be past.
Then he was brought out.
"What did you mean by smashing the lamps and putting them out?" wassternly demanded of him.
Shadow looked vacantly at them.
"Come, come!" and he was given a cuff alongside of his head. "Come,give us an answer, or I'll 'liven you up with something heavier than myhand."
While looking wonderingly and inquiringly at them Shadow pointed firstto his mouth and then to his ear.
One of them held a revolver close to the back of his head, unseen byhim, and then cocked the weapon, thinking that at the click Shadowwould certainly give a start if he was not really deaf.
Not a muscle of face or body could be seen to even twitch.
"It's straight, I guess," said this fellow, as he let down the hammerof the weapon and returned it to his pocket.
They now repeated the question by writing it on a sheet of paper.
Shadow looked at it, his face brightened, and seizing the pencil, hescribbled the reply:
"I knew him for a detective! I thought you'd rush in on him in the darkand slug him!"
The villains looked at each other. There was reason in it. Darknessmight easily have proved an aid to them, although, as it chanced, ithad really opened the way for the detective's escape.
Then they scrutinized Shadow closely, and tried to intimidate him bysaying they did not believe it. But when they wrote this on paper,Shadow only shrugged his shoulders on reading it.
Then they discussed the advisability of letting him go or putting himout of the way.
"There's no good in killing him, as I can see," one said finally. "Itmight easily be a bad thing, for there's no tellin' who may show uphere afore the body could be got rid of," and in this view all at lastconcurred.
Shadow was led to the door and pointed out. He hastily gained thestreet--_and disappeared_.
Shadow, the Mysterious Detective Page 4