The double dagger or, Nat Ridley's Mexican trail
his mind to a daring plan for rounding up the Tola gang, now that he
had in his possession one of their double daggers.
"With your help, my cowboy friends," said the detective, "I'll have
these scoundrels just where I want them. Can I count on you?"
"You bet!" came fervently from the pair.
"Then," said Nat Ridley in a low voice, "this is what I intend to do."
CHAPTER XXIII
THE DEAF MUTE
Within the silence of the dark cave, where, for days, Cora Ardell had
been kept a prisoner, a secret conference was held. All the talk was in
whispers, for Ike and Jim declared that they did not know enough about
the cavern to insure that a listener might not be hidden in some recess.
It was even suggested that perhaps the Mexican whom Nat had shot twice
might have sneaked back in an endeavor to get revenge, or, failing in
this, to learn something of the plans of his enemies.
"We can't be too careful," whispered Nat, and so the low talk went on.
Following this conference, Ike hurried from the cave and went to a
Mexican farmer whom he knew and purchased food with Nat's money, for
the sleuth had come over the line well supplied financially. Cora,
after the nerve-racking ordeal of being a prisoner had ended, became
herself, and told much that she had overheard while bound in the cave.
That the cave was one of the headquarters of the dreaded Tola gang was
well established, and it was only by chance that the two cowboys had
not encountered the ruthless El Capitan Martolo, Don Castro and their
followers on the visits Ike and Jim had paid to the cavern.
"Well, then," remarked Nat Ridley, one afternoon, about two days after
the shooting of the double dagger from the hand of the Mexican who
would have stabbed Slim Jim, "I'll leave you three for a while. Take
good care of Miss Ardell," he warned the cowboys.
"We will," promised Ike.
"I'm not worrying a bit," the girl said.
"And we'll be on the lookout to join you," added Jim.
They watched the detective ride down the trail and out of sight.
While the cowboys were carrying out their promise to guard Cora Ardell
carefully, quite a different scene was taking place in the Mexican
village of Paz, some miles from Rolamotaza.
In a Mexican saloon, combined with which was a gambling joint, seated
around a table in a rear room were El Capitan, Don Juan Castro, Valdez
and a number of the other members of the secret society known as the
Tola--an offshoot of some of the terrible organizations of the Aztec
days. The talk was all in Spanish.
"It seems then," remarked the big El Capitan, "that our men did not
get the American detective pig?"
"He escaped, to our sorrow," remarked Don Castro, who was telling the
story.
"How?" snapped El Capitan.
"He and his cowboy companions abandoned their horses and lowered
themselves over a cliff. We could not follow."
"How was that? Why not?" demanded El Capitan, his eyes blazing.
Don Castro shrugged his shoulders and waved his hands expressively as
he replied:
"They pulled the ropes away so we could not slide down."
"Imbeciles!" snarled El Capitan. "Why did you not have ropes?"
"It was a mistake not to," admitted the leader of the baffled pursuers.
"But we had none. However, we still have the girl in the dark cave, and
it will be strange if she can hold out much longer. If she signs the
papers, giving us back the oil wells, we can snap our fingers at this
dog and pig of a Gringo detective."
"Perhaps," said El Capitan. "But he is very clever. Out of my pocket
from under my nose he took letters--letters that say too much. Tell
me," he went on with a change of manner. "Have you tortured the girl
yet?"
"No, El Capitan," answered the other. "We did not know you wanted to
go to that length."
"Go to any length! Do anything to get her to sign those papers. It
is my order. Use hot irons if necessary. Now go and don't come back
without the papers! Are you sure you have the girl safe?"
"Positive, El Capitan."
"That is good. We shall yet laugh at this pig of a Gringo."
El Capitan chuckled and ordered another drink, and while he was pouring
it down his throat a waiter glided to his side and whispered in his ear.
"So?" exclaimed the Tola leader. "One of our band from the mountains to
join us? Who is he? Does he bear the symbol?"
"He gave me this," and the waiter held out a card on which was drawn
the device of a double dagger.
"That is good, but it is not enough. He should have the weapon itself,
either in miniature or the large one. But I will see him. Don Castro,
your attention here before you go to the cave on your mission," and El
Capitan beckoned to his lieutenant.
"Yes, El Capitan," submissively responded the other. "What is it?"
"One of our band--or at least one so claiming--waits outside. He sends
in his card. He is from the mountains it seems. He may be Pedro from
the cave."
"If he is, it means that something has happened!" cried Don Castro,
starting. His manner was alarming.
"You mean the girl has escaped?" hissed El Capitan.
"It is possible."
"If she has, you imbecile, I will hold you responsible!" stormed the
leader. "But let us see! Have in this member from the mountains. He
sends the proper card but he must have the dagger itself. Let him come
in," he ordered the waiter.
A moment later an aged Mexican entered the meeting room of the Tola
gang. White was his hair, bent was his back and he walked with a staff.
He bowed humbly as he advanced and seemed eager to please as he stood
before El Capitan.
"Who are you and what do you want?" snapped out the leader.
The old man appeared not to hear, and something in his manner caused El
Capitan to exclaim:
"We are betrayed! This is a spy! Speak!" he cried, slipping his hand
into his coat as if seeking a weapon.
"Pardon, señor, I forgot to mention that he is a deaf mute," said the
waiter. "He had to write out on a card that he wanted to see you, and I
had to write that I would take him your message and the symbol, which
I did. He can neither hear nor speak."
"Fool, why did you not say so at first?" snarled El Capitan. "I had
nearly put a bullet through him, and that would have been sad if he
is really one of us. Look you," he went on to the stranger who stood
meekly before him, "why do you come? What do you want?"
"You forget, El Capitan," said Don Castro, gently, "that he cannot hear
you."
"True enough," grumbled the head of the gang. "Give me paper and
pencil!"
"Make sure that he is one of us," suggested Don Castro.
"Am I not doing that?" testily inquired his chief.
He wrote something on a card which the deaf mute read, though slowly,
either as if his eyesight were poor or his brain slow to comprehend.
But comprehend he must have, for with a smile and a mumbling of sounds
that were not words, he drew from his pocket a curiously carved handle.
Pressure on a certain ugly head among the decorations caused two keen
blades to shoot out--one long and the other short.
"The double dagger!" murmured several who had crowded about El Capitan.
"Yes, he bears the emblem," admitted the chief. "He is one of us.
But it is going to be devilish hard to get much out of him. I hate
writing. However, I will see what his mission is."
But hardly had El Capitan begun to frame some questions in writing than
there rushed into the meeting room a Mexican with a hand done up in
bandages, and with but a bloody smear where, once, an ear had been.
"Pedro!" gasped Don Castro. "Pedro!"
"From the cave?" El Capitan.
"From the cave!" answered the wounded Tola. "They shot me and they have
the girl!"
"Ten thousand devils!" yelled El Capitan. "Speak! Who has the girl?
What do you mean? Who? Tell me! We are lost!"
He started forward as though to seize the messenger and shake the truth
from him, but Don Castro stepped forward, while the deaf mute, putting
the double dagger, in which the two blades were once more sheathed,
back in his pocket, drew quietly into a corner.
"Let me talk to Pedro," suggested Don Castro. "What happened to you and
who took the girl?" he asked quietly.
Then followed a flood of talk, hearing which El Capitan yelled:
"It is that dog of an Americano detective again. Always he turns up
unexpectedly. He must die! Quick, call in Valdez and Latro. Set the
killers on his trail! He must die! Dog! Pig! Thus to baffle us!"
"He must die!" echoed Don Castro, a wicked smile playing over his face.
"But to kill him we must first catch him, and I think Pedro will help.
Let us go into conference. And what of this deaf and dumb member from
the mountain, El Capitan?"
"His matter can wait. He can hear nothing--tell nothing. Let him wait,"
and he made a sign to the aged Mexican who had shown the double dagger
to take a seat in the corner whither he had retreated, there to wait
until the more important matter of planning Nat Ridley's death could be
disposed of.
The deaf mute sat down wearily, as though he had traveled far, and he
closed his eyes. But there was a curious little smile playing over his
brown and wrinkled face.
CHAPTER XXIV
OVER THE LINE
Late into the night, yes, almost until the red sun was ready to rise
and shine down into the village of Paz amid the Mexican hills, did El
Capitan, Don Castro, Pedro and the "killers" hold conference in the
back room of the adobe saloon. Now the voices were high pitched and
now they were low, and all the while the deaf mute sat in his corner,
nodding, sleeping, and sometimes smiling.
At last a plan was agreed upon and certain men of the company girded
their pistol belts tighter about them. They were given money by El
Capitan and then they went out into the gray and reddening dawn to
where their horses awaited.
"Fail not!" ordered the big chief. "The son of Gringo pig must die!"
"He shall die!" promised Latro, with a cruel smile on his face. "We
shall meet with our comrades in Paloma and it will be strange if,
between us, we shall not find him."
"In Paloma, then, I will join you on the day agreed," said El Capitan.
Again the brown and wrinkled deaf mute in his corner smiled. Then the
leader seemed to remember the mute messenger with the double dagger,
for he turned to Don Castro and said:
"Now we shall see what he wants. A pest upon him for coming at such a
time! It is money he desires, I doubt not."
And money was just what the aged member of the Tola gang had come for.
It appeared, from what he wrote down on dirty pieces of paper, that he
was a member of a distant branch of the gang that had its headquarters
in the mountains. It was composed of poor peons, but they had been
promised a share in the oil wells, the profits of which were to be
divided among the Tolas.
It further appeared that El Capitan, Don Castro and the others, not
having sufficient funds of their own to wrest back from the Lemberg
family the wonderfully profitable wells, had levied contributions from
every member of the gang, rich and poor, promising in return money when
the wells should once more be owned by the ancient society.
"And this fellow says he and his fellow villagers are so poor from the
failure of their crops and because of the money they have given us to
get back our wells that they are starving," said El Capitan when he had
read what the deaf mute wrote. "A pest upon them! Why could they not
wait?" He walked the floor in anger.
"What is to be done?" asked Don Castro.
"What would you have?" retorted El Capitan. "We cannot afford
disaffection. These mountain members, though they add little to our
success, must still be considered. But I am tired of this pencil