The double dagger or, Nat Ridley's Mexican trail
He reached over, picked up the scattered cards and, with the hands of
a master magician, began dealing the cards now from the top and now
from the bottom. He turned up the hand he had given the former dealer,
showing four kings, but hardly had the murmurs of surprise at this
trick died away than Pocus Pete turned over the cards he had dealt to
himself, showing four aces.
"It's easy when you know how," he drawled. "But it ain't healthy for
them as knows," he added.
The disclosure seemed to sting the Mexican gambler to madness.
"Son of a pig!" he spluttered. "I will show you!"
With a rapid motion he drew a gun, but before he could fire Lazy Ike,
whose actions seemed to belie his nickname, had his own weapon out.
There were two reports, one following the other, but Lazy Ike had fired
first and the Mexican slumped down in his chair, the bullet from his
gun singing uncomfortably past the ear of Pocus Pete.
The excitement in the saloon redoubled, and Pocus Pete was drawing his
own gun, for there were ugly looks about him, when Lazy Ike called into
his ear:
"We'd better beat it now, you an' me an' Slim Jim. They won't leave
enough of us to put on a shutter as soon as they get into action. I
guess maybe I've croaked that guy."
"Where are you going?" asked Pocus Pete as he allowed himself to be
urged out of the place between Lazy Ike and Slim Jim.
"We've got to take to the hills," answered Ike. "It won't be safe for
us in town."
It appeared that it was not going to be safe for the trio right then
and there, in the Stella d'Ora, for as the three neared the door they
found their passage blocked by a number of Mexicans.
"Pigs! Dogs!" hissed the dark-featured men, some of whom were far from
sober.
"Kill the Gringoes!" someone yelled.
A big man, whose face showed his passion, rushed at Pocus Pete with a
long knife upraised.
"Watch yourself, buddy!" yelled Ike.
There was a sharp report, a little cloud of smoke seemed to float out
of the side pocket of Pete's coat, and the Mexican slumped down to the
floor.
"Another one down and out!" yelled Ike, the lust of battle in his eyes.
"Now we sure got to make a run for it!"
"That was a slick shot," muttered Slim Jim. "Though who you are an' how
Ike picked you up, I don't know."
"An' this ain't no time to ask questions, either!" sung out Ike. "Come
on! Take it on the jump!"
The three ran from the saloon, leaped to their ponies at the hitching
rail and galloped off.
"To the hills!" cried Lazy Ike. "We'll stick by you, Pocus Pete!"
As they galloped through the town the hoof-beats of their horses
were punctuated with the shots from many guns, while bullets sang an
ominous, whining song over their heads.
CHAPTER XVIII
THE BLACK CAVE
"You fellows know this country better than I do," remarked Pocus Pete
as he guided his pinto pony out among the hills that led away from the
Mexican town where they had just escaped from the gambling den. "I'll
have to depend on you to get me out of here."
"Don't worry about that," drawled Lazy Ike whose speech was, at times,
as slow as his actions. "We'll stick by you to the last."
"Though, for the matter of that," went on the strange cowboy, "those
fellows who were juggling the pasteboards didn't get any more than was
coming to 'em."
"You're darn right!" chimed in Slim Jim. "Say, pard, I gotta hand it to
you for shufflin' the cards! How'd you work it?"
"Just a trick," and Pocus Pete smiled. "But say, do you fellows know
where you are and where we're goin'?"
"You well said it!" exclaimed Lazy Ike, flapping his pony with the
reins. "We know this country all right, an' to our sorrow. I wish we'd
never crossed the Rio Grande."
"Same here," came sorrowfully from his pal.
"What's wrong with it?" asked Pocus Pete. "Too much oil?"
"Too much oil for a cattleman," answered Slim Jim. "An' there's other
things, too."
"What other things?" asked the pinto-riding cowboy curiously. He acted
as though he had long been on the trail of something or somebody and
that now he was nearing the end of his quest. "What other things?"
"You tell him, Slim," urged Lazy Ike. "We got to stick together now,
since that shootin' fracas, so he might as well know what's what."
"Yes," remarked Pocus Pete, "if the cops get after us we're all in the
same boat, I reckon, though you didn't shoot anybody, Jim."
"Not this time. But I gotta couple of notches on my gun handle,"
boasted the cowboy. "Not but what the fellows who stopped my bullets
didn't get what they deserved," he added. "I'm no promisc'us shooter.
It was them or me, an' I'd ruther it'd be them. So the cops, as you
call 'em, are after me, too--only they haven't got onto my curves yet
back there in Rolamotaza."
"Cops," drawled Lazy Ike meditatively. "I ain't heard that word in a
long spell. You must 'a' been East recent, Pocus Pete."
"I'm from the East, originally," admitted the cowboy on the pinto.
"Some of the words stick to me yet. I reckon they ain't got no regular
police out here, have they?"
"These Greasers? Naw!" exclaimed Slim Jim as he shoved a big wad of
tobacco into his mouth. "Con-stab-u-lary--that's what they call 'em in
Mex. Dirty, greasy Greasers--that's all!"
"But they shoot without stoppin' to ask why or wherefor," warned Lazy
Ike. "So we'd best put a few miles between them an' us afore Don Juan
Castro starts the ball game."
"Don Juan Castro?" exclaimed Pocus Pete, and there was so much
excitement in his voice that his two companions looked at him in
surprise and Jim asked:
"You know him?"
"I've heard of him," was the answer. "He's a big cattle man, isn't he?"
"Naw! Oil," and Jim got rid of some of his tobacco juice. "He owns
a lot of oil wells around here an' he's always tryin' to git more.
There's some wells here owned by a party out your way--in the East, I
mean--N' York, I heard. Well, this Don Castro and his gang are after
them wells."
"They tried to buy 'em," added Ike. "An' when they couldn't do that,
well, some queer things begun happenin'."
"That's what I was goin' to tell you about," put in Slim. "This country
ain't no good for cattle--it's all oil, an it ain't healthy for them
as dabbles in oil, 'less they're in right with Don Castro."
"What happens?" asked Pocus Pete.
"They passes out--sudden like," answered Slim and he made a motion as
if sticking a knife into someone. "An' that ain't the worse of it,
neither," he went on.
"No?" questioned Pocus Pete.
"No, sir! There's signs that them as passes out sudden has been done
away with by a secret society. There was certain signs left near each
dead man, an' three was killed lately to my certain knowledge."
"That's right," chimed in Lazy Ike. "Three!"
"What was the mysterious sign?" asked Pocus Pete.
"It was a sign of a double dagger drawed on a card found near the dead
men," resumed Slim. "An' in one of the bodies, a regular double dagger
was found--a knife with a big blade on one end an' a small blade on the
other. Looked like if they didn't get you goin' they would comin' or
visse versy as they used to say when I went to school."
"So they found the double dagger in one of the victims, did they?"
asked Pocus Pete.
"It was left stickin' in one of the stiffs, if that's what you mean,"
chuckled Lazy Ike.
"Where it is? Who has it? I mean where is that double dagger now?" and
Pocus Pete showed so much excitement that both his new friends looked
at him in wonder. Then Slim added:
"It didn't stay in him long. Feller named Steele, it was. An' he got
steel--cold steel--poor slob! This is how it come about. Ike an' me we
moseyed down here lookin' for work, an' when we found it weren't no
cattle country we sort of stuck around, pickin' up odd jobs. It wasn't
so bad at first, though we didn't have no great hankerin' for oil. An'
then the queer killin's begun.
"But about this double dagger you seems to be interested in. One
mornin' a young feller we happened to know--he was a college boy who'd
run away an' he got a job down here. He used to ride off by himself a
lot, alone. One mornin' he come racin' back to town, his pony all a
lather of foam, sayin' he'd seed a dead man out in the gully, an' he
had a double dagger stuck in his heart. That's how it was knowed the
killin's was done with that kind of a knife."
"So they found the double dagger, did they?" asked Pocus Pete.
"Well, Jimmie Dale--that was this college lad's name, saw the knife
stickin' in poor Steele," went on Slim. "But when some of us went out
there with a few of what passes for police around here, the knife was
gone."
"Who took it?"
"Nobody could tell. Likely it was some of them that drove the double
dagger into Steele's heart. They must 'a' knifed him and then got a
scare that sent 'em off on the run 'fore they had time to pull the
knife out. Then they come back an' got it."
"Looks as if they cared a lot for it," commented Pocus Pete.
"Reckon so," came from Ike. "Well, now you know what sort of country
you've drifted to, Pete, an' I hope you like it."
"I've been in worse places," was the cool answer. "If there is food and
water to be had up in these hills I reckon we can hold out."
"Oh, there won't be no trouble about that," declared Slim. "We know a
few places to hide."
"The black cave, for one," suggested his pal.
"That's right. We'd better head for that."
"As for grub," went on Ike, "there are a lot of Mexican farmers up in
these hills, an' they'll sell us skinny chickens an' them fried beans
they call frijoles or tortillas or somethin' like that. An' there's
plenty of springs, so we'll make out all right."
"Then we'll camp for a while," suggested Pocus Pete. "As it's my fault,
in a way, that you were forced to flee--vamoose you know--" He seemed
to have, for the moment, swung out of the cowboy slang. "As it was my
doin's that you had to come here you'll let me buy the grub."
"Don't know's we'll have much objection to that," said Slim. "We're
about broke."
"That's right," nodded Ike. "But how do you figger it's your fault,
Pocus Pete, that we're here because of you?"
"Well, if I hadn't butted in on that card game when I saw Slim being
double-crossed----"
"Forgit it!" broke in the cowboy gambler. "I was jest gittin' wise to
their game myself, an' I'd likely have started somethin' if you hadn't.
No, we're all in the same boat, an' we'll stick together."
The trio rode on. The ponies were fleet, and soon took them beyond
pursuit, which, as a matter of fact, did not last long. Perhaps the
Mexicans did not relish the quick shooting of the cowboys.
They rode up among the hills and stopped at a farm, run by a peon and
his wife, where Pocus Pete footed the bill for food--it was not a
costly meal, a dollar buying enough for all three.
That night they camped in the open, rolled in blankets near a fire, and
the next morning traveled on, for Ike and Slim said the black cave, a
natural cavern in the hills, would be reached about noon.
The sun was not yet at the zenith when Lazy Ike, pointing ahead on the
trail, drawled:
"There she is!"
"What?" asked Pocus Pete.
"The black cave."
The newly arrived cowboy glanced to a dark opening in the side of the
hill, and, as he looked, he said in a low voice:
"Somebody's ahead of us."
"What do you mean?" asked Slim.
"I mean there are some fellows in the black cave. What had we better
do, boys? This is your game."
Lazy Ike and Slim Jim peered from beneath their sombreros at some
horsemen coming out of the cavern.
CHAPTER XIX
PURSUED
"What you reckon that means, Ike?" questioned Slim Jim.