CHAPTER XIII.
THE MINING CABIN.
THE next afternoon found Harry Vincent and Carter Boswick rolling along a narrow, rutted road in Harry’s coupe. While Harry carefully guided the car, Carter studied a large map which was unfolded before him.
They were in a wild, unpopulated region. It was doubtful if a car could have been along this almost forgotten road since the beginning of the month. The road was curving upward toward the summit of a small hill. As they neared a clearing, Carter gave the signal to stop.
“This is as close as we can get,” he declared. “Why not shove the car off in the clearing, and cut through the trees to that place up there?”
He pointed to a crag-like spot on the side of the hill. It was plain that the slight eminence would serve as an excellent lookout for the terrain below. Without a word, Harry turned the car from the road and stopped it at the fringe of the woods.
It was only a short tramp to the crag. Carter’s supposition proved correct. Seated on the rock, he and Harry could observe a considerable extent of wooded ground. The country here was hilly; over beyond a sloping valley, they saw another rise of ground that was rather low, but, nevertheless, mountainous in appearance.
“Down in there”—Carter was pointing to the valley—“is the probable location. I am sure that I have the latitude and longitude correct, but we may have to do considerable searching to find the exact place meant.”
Harry nodded. Carter had explained the entire situation to him. In return, Harry had frankly told Carter that he was the agent of an unknown person who had gained knowledge of certain plans to rob Carter of his heritage.
“I feel positive,” continued Carter, “that there must be some distinctive object to guide us—say a big tree—a small lake—a habitation.”
“Look over there!” Harry pointed as he spoke. “That is a cabin of some sort, isn’t it?”
Carter followed the direction of Harry’s gaze. He, too, saw the object. The edge of a roof was barely visible in a large clearing that had been cut away at the base of the opposite hill. Carter turned to Harry with a triumphant smile.
“That’s where we’re going!” he stated. “Let’s go back and get the supplies out of the coupe. Then we can investigate and stay, if it looks good.”
AN hour later, the young men arrived at the clearing. They were carrying packs and boxes—items of provision and equipment that they had purchased in a small town that morning.
As they came out of the trees, they spied a fair-sized cabin that appeared to be in good condition, although it bore signs of desertion.
Finding the door unlocked, Harry and Carter entered. The cabin consisted of a single floor. In the center was a large room with a fireplace. There were three small bedrooms off at one side, and a dining room and kitchen at the other. The place was sparsely furnished, even to cots with springs.
In the kitchen, they discovered a stove and a complete array of pots and pans. A calendar was hanging on the wall. Harry pointed it out to Carter. The calendar was five years old.
“Do you think the place can have been deserted that long?” questioned Carter, in a tone of surprise.
“Very probably,” said Harry. “The calendar looks like good evidence.”
“But the furniture—the utensils?”
“No one touches anything in this country. If any people have been in here, they have taken it for granted that the owners intend to return.”
The men went out the back door of the cabin. Across the clearing, they saw a square-shaped opening in the ground—something like the mouth of a large well. Investigating, they discovered a wooden ladder leading down into a deep pit, with stone interior that glimmered in spots.
“A vertical mining shaft,” remarked Harry.
“Looks like galena,” nodded Carter, pointing to one of the glittering patches.
“I think I’ve got it,” declared Harry. “This is considerable of a mining region around here. The fellows that had this cabin sunk their shaft in hopes of a real strike.”
“And then?”
“They probably got wind of a better location, where others were hitting it good. When a rush starts, the first people stand the best chance. Maybe they started out for the Nipigon region, in Canada. Anyway, they took along all that they could carry and never came back.”
“It sounds logical.”
“It’s quite a usual occurrence,” Harry stated. “This place has become absolutely useless. The custom of the forest is to use what comes your way, provided you do not injure it. This cabin is ours for the time being.”
“There is no doubt in my mind,” said Carter slowly, “concerning the importance of this spot. It appears to be the one place that could have been meant in my father’s directions. Our search begins here.”
“Right here,” affirmed Harry, pointing to the shaft. “Who’s going down, Carter? You or I?”
“I’ll take the job,” declared Carter promptly.
WHILE his companion made the descent into the shaft, Harry sat on the edge of the square wooden wall and kept careful watch. All seemed serene in this lonely clearing, but Harry could not avoid the suspicion of possible danger lurking near by.
Harry, gazing downward at intervals, could see the occasional flash of Carter Boswick’s electric torch. Fifteen minutes went by; a head and shoulders came over the side, and Carter rejoined Harry.
“Absolute blank,” was Carter’s comment. “I searched the shaft all the way down. About thirty feet, as I calculated it. Solid rock, every inch. Ends in a ragged bottom. Let’s go back to the cabin.”
When they reached the one-story building, Harry proposed a search within. The two men spent an hour going over the floor and walls. Here, as before, they could discover nothing. Harry entered the kitchen and cooked up some coffee. Seated at the old table, the two held council as they drank.
“Here is the whole situation,” asserted Carter quietly. “My father was a most unusual man. He apparently had a contempt for wealth, despite the fact that the accumulation of it was his chief endeavor. He was also a stickler for perseverance.
“Somewhere in this locality, he has placed a sum that should be close to ten million dollars. Naturally, he must have hidden it well—so effectively that chance visitors could find no clew to its location. But to a man in my position—one who knows the wealth is near—one who is willing to search every foot of the ground—the quest should certainly bring success.”
“Good reliance on your perseverance,” commented Harry.
“Exactly,” responded Carter.
“How about your cousin?” questioned Harry. “You told me that the task would have gone to him had he been the heir. Could your father have relied upon his perseverance?”
“With ten million dollars involved?” came back Carter. “I should think any one would persevere!”
“But if you fail—what of the money then?”
Carter Boswick shrugged his shoulders.
“It will lay where it is,” he decided. “That’s all. But I intend to find it.”
Harry strolled to the window and stared out toward the woods. He studied the terrain of forest, with sloping hill beyond. He felt a sudden consciousness that eyes were watching from amid the trees. He had the same sensation when be crossed the kitchen and gazed from a second window. He said nothing of his suspicion to Carter. Instead, he expressed his willingness to begin the search.
“It’s late now,” declared Harry. “The time to get started is early in the morning. But be sure of this, Carter. We must stay together at all times. The episode back in the Junction House may be just the beginning.”
“We’d better take shifts watching at night,” observed Carter. “If other people are engaged in the hunt, they’re liable to attack us then.”
“Exactly,” said Harry. “Well, we’re each packing a pair of automatics. “We can use them when we need them.”
“How about”—Carter paused—“how about—your friend—whoever
he is?”
“We’re not to count on him,” asserted Harry cryptically. “Our job is to work together. We were helped out plenty back at the hotel. We’re likely to receive help in the future. But there may be a lot of angles to this that we don’t know. Therefore, we have to take the attitude that we are on our own resources.”
“You said something about gangsters,” remarked Carter. “The fight at the Junction House bore that out. But what puzzles me is how they got into this at the start.”
“I have no idea.”
“YOU know,” pondered Carter, “I made one mistake. I should have checked up on Drew Westling before I left New York. Farland Tracy warned me that my father was very suspicious; that he feared some one was trying to learn where the money was hidden. Prowlers entered the old mansion while father was away.
“Then there’s that matter of the stolen message. When Tracy left the house, I may have shown, by my expression, that I had something on my mind. I covered up until after Tracy had gone. But as soon as Headley had closed the door, I was eager to start.
“Drew was in the dining room. He saw the direction that I took. I wanted him to think that I was going upstairs; but I went into the library instead.”
“Post mortem won’t help,” decided Harry abruptly. “All we know is that some one is on your trail. There was a mob in back of it last night, but the crowd has thinned out considerably.
“One fellow—he’s the bird who took Room 215—was on the train coming west from New York. He goes under the name of Antonio Lodi. He’s still at large. But who he’s working for or with, is something that we may not know for a while.”
“You’re right,” laughed Carter. “The best thing we can do is stick to our knitting. Maybe they’ll leave us alone until after we’ve found the hiding place. Then—”
Harry nodded as he caught the inference. That might well be the enemy’s plan, now that the goal had been neared.
Whatever might transpire, Harry Vincent was sure that a titanic struggle lay ahead. It would take more than himself and Carter Boswick to succeed. Harry realized fully that The Shadow’s aid could be the only salvation.
Still by the window, Harry felt a prolonged sensation of uneasiness. Dusk was falling, and it added to the illusion of spying eyes watching from the woods. In an effort to curb his nervousness, Harry suggested dinner.
As Harry and Carter prepared their meal from canned goods, they returned to their original theme. The quest would begin to-morrow. By the next evening success might be theirs. If not, they would keep on.
For somewhere in this locality lay Carter Boswick’s heritage. Time and trouble would be no barriers. The quest would not end until success had come.
CHAPTER XIV.
FORCES OF CRIME.
HARRY VINCENT’S intuitive sense was by no means a poor one. As darkness closed over the forest, a motion in the brush bore out his belief that a concealed observer had been watching the cabin. But Harry was not at hand to detect the presence of the prowler.
Pushing his way through the lower branches of the trees, a man hurried away from the vicinity of the clearing. After a mile of tramping, he struck a side road through the woods, and came to a spot where an old touring car was parked beside the road.
The man clambered into the automobile. He drove away and reached a better road that pointed toward the Wisconsin border. A lonely ride of a dozen miles brought him to an old road house that was just beyond the outskirts of a small town.
The man alighted from this car and entered the building. His face was revealed in the lighted hall. It was Stacks Lodi.
The newcomer spied a man with a bandaged arm, lounging in a room off the hall. It was Scully. The crippled gangster grinned. He used his left hand to indicate a stairway.
“Room right at the top,” he said. “He’s in there, Stacks. Waiting for you.”
Stacks Lodi ascended the stairs, knocked at the door, and opened the portal when he heard the gruff command to enter. He found Hub Rowley seated at a table, a bottle of liquor close at hand.
“Hello, Stacks,” growled the big shot. “Have a drink. Tell me what you know.”
“I’ve got Boswick located,” said Stacks eagerly. “Him and another guy—”
“Start with the beginning,” interrupted Hub impatiently. “I want to know all that happened.”
“Didn’t Scully tell you?”
“Yes. But I want your story.”
“O. K., Hub. Well, when I landed in Junction City, trailing this bird Boswick, the boys were there like I expected. You certainly figured a way to beat Boswick’s time, and they picked up the touring car like you suggested.
“I didn’t fool around any. Just registered at the Junction House, and went outside to give the cigar signal. I hung around the lobby. Clerk sent the bell hops home. He and I were there alone, and I figured an easy fight upstairs.
“And then everything broke loose. Sounded like artillery fire. The clerk grabbed a gun and started up. So I plugged him. Then I yanked the sheet out of the hotel register, and threw it in the stove. Best thing to do, Hub. Alibis would have been a mess. I didn’t know what the finish would be. I clipped the only bird who knew who I was—and who Boswick was, for that matter.”
“All right,” agreed Hub. “Go on.”
“WHEN I got upstairs,” continued Stacks, “I found Scully crawling along the hall. The rest of the mob was dead. I didn’t lose any time. I dragged Scully along, and he told me where the car was.
“We ran into luck. Scully had stopped at this place on the way in. He knew it was a speakeasy, and a stop-off joint for bimboes running booze in from Canada. The boss took him to some hick sawbones. Said he got shot out hunting.
“That’s when I wired you in Chicago—to come on here—like you said. Then, along about noon, I headed out to find the location. You had it picked mighty close. Boswick is there already. I don’t know who the other bloke is.”
“Are they camping on the ground?” queried Hub.
“No,” grinned Stacks. “They’re sitting pretty. Found a cabin there. That’s why I’m sure they’ve got the place. I watched them from the woods. They were fooling around what looked like a big well.”
“A mine shaft, probably. Did they find anything?”
“Don’t think so. Boswick went down the shaft; if he’d been alone, I’d have nailed him then. But the other guy watched. I waited until after they went into the cabin. Then I cut over to the road, where I had parked my car.”
“You’re sure there’s only two of them?”
“That’s all.”
Hub Rowley was thoughtful. Then, with an angry gesture, he gulped down a glass of liquor and stared coldly at henchman.
“You know why I’m here?” he questioned.
Stacks shook his head.
“Because,” said the big shot, “there’s been too much foolishness. This is the third time, Stacks, that you have tried to get one man—Carter Boswick. In every instance, you had men capable of doing the job. They failed.”
“I told you why, chief!” Stacks fairly blurted the words. “It wasn’t Boswick that stopped them. I found it out on the boat. It was The Shadow!”
“So you say. But I’ve got to see the proof. First you claim your men tried to get Boswick at some joint in Havana. That may have been a story they cooked up. You can’t prove that The Shadow was there. Your story about the boat sounds possible; but you admit that you had liquored up a bit during the card game. Then, last night—you didn’t see The Shadow at the Junction House, did you?”
“I was downstairs. Ask Scully—he was up above.”
“I questioned him. He said you talked about The Shadow. But he didn’t see him. Scully says there was a fellow who helped Boswick out—but it wasn’t The Shadow.”
“Scully don’t know all!” protested Stacks. “He was trying to blackjack Boswick, so he says, and the others were covering Boswick’s friend. Then somebody plugs him in the wrist.”
“The man wit
h Boswick, probably.”
“While he was covered by three rods? That don’t sound right, Hub. I figure The Shadow was there, too.”
“Maybe you’re right,” growled Hub Rowley. “Just the same, we’re going to get that fellow Boswick. If he has another man with him, we’ll pick him off, too. This time, I’ll be there myself.”
“Just you and me—with Scully?”
“Scully!” Hubs voice was contemptuous. “He’s crippled. Say—you are a dumb one at times, Stacks. Do you think I’ve come here alone? I’ve got Twister downstairs, and a mob all ready. Brought along a gang from Chicago. They aren’t here at this dump; but they’re near by.”
“Say, Hub!” Stacks spoke in an admiring tone. “This will be soft. Those eggs are hanging out in that cabin. If you want to blot them out, it will be easy.”
“We’re blotting them out tonight!”
HUB ROWLEY arose and walked about the room. The big shot was planning. Finally, he turned to Stacks Lodi and delivered his final detail.
“We’re starting out at midnight,” declared the big shot. “You’re going to lead us. Twister and you will boss the mob—under my direction. We’ll get that cabin on all sides. I’m waiting now to hear from another man who’s interested in this.”
Hub paused and studied Stacks thoughtfully. The big shot was recalling the discussion on the night before Stacks left for Chicago. He was trying to remember just how much he had said to Stacks then. At last, Hub decided to go on, but he phrased his words cunningly.
“This is a big lay, Stacks,” he said. “I got hold of a man who came out with it and offered to work with me on a split. He needed help on account of Carter Boswick being in the way. Savvy? Well, if we get rid of Boswick, it’s clear, but we won’t stop now.
“You remember that note that you found under the door of Boswick’s house after you got the signal of the blinking light over the front door? That was what I was waiting for. It was swiped from Carter Boswick that night. Well, this fellow that’s in the game arranged things so I got it. He’s here now—and I’m going to see him tonight.
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