The double dagger or, Nat Ridley's Mexican trail
scratching, Castro. You deal with this mute. Write him that if he will
wait a few days he shall have money to take to his friends. By that
time we shall have our wells back."
"If we get the girl and kill that devil of a detective--maybe," added
Don Castro, with a shrug of his shoulders.
"We will!" declared the leader. "Deal you, Castro, with our member from
the mountains. Pacify him--tell him to wait and all will be well."
"I suppose he is a member," suggested the other.
"Did he not have the double dagger? Who else but a member would dare
show it? He is a true Tola. Treat him well. And now we shall hope for
the best. I am weary--I would sleep!"
So while El Capitan staggered off to his room, Don Castro wrote more
messages to the deaf mute who read them slowly--and smiled.
It was several days after this, during which time El Capitan, together
with several of his most trusted men, had departed on a mission, that
Don Castro, sauntering one day into the café headquarters of the Tola
gang, inquired for Zenna, which, the deaf mute had written, was his
name.
"He is gone," the café proprietor answered.
"Gone?"
"Yes. He left in the night. Someone came to him with a note and he
departed hurriedly. Why? Was I supposed to detain him? Is all not
right?"
"I don't know about the last," said Don Castro slowly. "I hope so.
Certainly you had no orders to detain him. I wonder if he was a Tola."
"He had the double dagger," replied the café owner, who was also one of
the ruthless gang. "I saw him springing the blades in and out as he sat
here early in the evening."
"Yes, he had the double dagger," agreed Don Castro. "But I wonder--I
wonder!" Then, with a shrug of his shoulders he added: "But El Capitan
said he was one of us, and El Capitan should know."
Meanwhile the bent and aged deaf mute was making good time over the
mountain trails on the mule that had brought him to the village of Paz.
And, as he hastened forward, now and then he took out the double dagger
and looked at it. Ever and anon he smiled, wrinkling his bronzed face.
* * * * *
In a little adobe hut, long and narrow, several men were gathered one
hot, sultry evening. Two of the party were cowboys, by their dress.
One spoke in slow, drawling tones and moved but seldom. The other was
tall and slim.
Two others of the party were evidently Easterners, as their pale faces,
in contrast to the bronzed complexions of their companions, plainly
showed.
"Well, Baldy," remarked one of these latter, "we're a long, long way
from Times Square."
"You said it, Berry!" responded the other. "But this is the place the
chief told us to report to, isn't it?"
"You got it right, gentlemen," said the tall, thin cowboy. "Me an' Lazy
Ike doped this out as the best place to pull off the party; didn't
we, Ike?" he asked his companion who had gone into another part of
the long, low building which was divided in the middle by a partition
containing a door. "Where's Ike?" he asked, looking at Baldy and Berry.
"I crossed over into Mexico to get me a match for my cigarette,"
answered Lazy Ike, coming through the door. "Now I'm in the U. S. A.
once more," he went on as he sat down with the others.
"Is it true?" asked Baldy Stoler of Slim Burke, "that this building is
right over the line between the United States and Mexico?"
"You got it right, buddy," was the answer. "It was built for a saloon,
after prohibition started, so liquor could be sold to thirsty United
Staters who didn't want to go into Mexico. They could come in here and
imbibe and still be on Uncle Sam's land. In case of a raid the red-eye
and forty-rod could be hustled over to the other side of the saloon, on
to Mexican territory, and the prohibition people couldn't do a thing.
It got so, after a while, that the United States authorities and the
Mexican government made an agreement and this place was wiped out
by a joint raid. Since then this shack is in charge of the military
authorities of both countries."
"And when Nat telephoned Baldy and me to come here," said Berry, "and
when we met you two cowboys, you said this was the best place for the
trick."
"It is," asserted Slim Jim. "It's just over the line, you see."
Others in the crowd listened to this talk. Hard-fisted men they were,
and ready with their guns. Baldy looked at his watch and remarked:
"It's about time he was here if he's coming."
At that moment a door in the Mexican end of the building opened and an
old man shuffled in. Bent and wrinkled he was, and stained and dusty
from long travel.
"What do you want?" called Ike sharply. "Who are you?"
"Excuse me, señor, but I am deaf and dumb," was the reply.
For a moment this remarkable statement seemed to shock them all into
silence, and then Berry Todd laughed and cried:
"It's the chief himself--Nat Ridley!"
"Hush!" cautioned the detective, for he it was. "They are on the way.
They will soon be here. Into the other room with you--the United States
side and wait for my whistle. Have your guns ready."
"That's something we won't have nothin' else but," declared Lazy Ike
with his characteristic drawl.
A little later the aged Mexican seemed to be alone in the long, narrow
building that straddled the international line. He sat in a chair,
waiting, waiting, with a queer smile on his brown face.
Presently he heard the sound of horses ambling along the road, and the
smile changed to a stern expression. He rose as several men opened the
door and came in, El Capitan and Don Castro among them.
"He is here!" exclaimed the leader, glancing at the Mexican. "I thought
he was one of us, though you doubted him, Don Castro. Now then,
somebody, write and ask him where he has the girl and that pig of a
detective. I must have a drink," and El Capitan drew out a flask while
Don Castro wrote the questions of his chief on a piece of paper which
he handed the old Mexican, who had appointed this rendezvous after his
sudden flight from Paz.
But the deaf mute seemed to have some difficulty in reading the
writing. He held it up beneath a candle spluttering in a wall sconce.
And, as he raised his arms, Don Castro gave a cry of alarm.
"What is it?" cried El Capitan, nearly choking himself as he stopped
his drink half taken. "What is it?"
"We are betrayed!" shouted Don Castro. "See! This man is no peon! He is
in disguise! His skin is stained! I doubted him from the first. Now I
am sure!"
With a quick motion Don Castro pulled back the sleeve from the upraised
arm of the man reading the note. And while the hand and wrist were
stained a mahogany brown, the remainder of the arm was glistening white
skin.
"Son of a pig!" hissed El Capitan as, from an inner pocket, he drew his
double dagger and sprang toward Nat Ridley.
CHAPTER XXV
THE WHISTLE
Thought was hardly quicker than Nat Ridley's act as he pulled loose his
sleeve from the betraying grip of Don Castro and leaped toward the door
dividing the long building in two. As he glided from the grasp of the
Mexican, the latter gave a cry of dismay.
"After him!" shouted El Capitan. "He must not escape again! He knows
too much!"
"Devil of a spy!" cried some of the other Tolas who, with their
leaders, had come over into the United States in furtherance of their
plans and because of certain things the deaf mute had written in his
notes. The mute had promised to deliver into their hands Nat Ridley the
detective, and to tell where Cora Ardell could be found.
"Spy! Spy!" yelled the baffled and enraged Mexicans, while El Capitan
seemed actually to foam at the mouth.
"He said he would deliver Ridley to us!" cried Don Castro.
"And he is here!" cried the ringing voice of the supposed deaf mute.
"Nat Ridley is here! Come and get him! I am Nat Ridley, at your
service!"
He leaped into the other room, which appeared to be vacant. After him
rushed El Capitan, Don Castro and the "killers." Each one held either a
double dagger or a gun.
For a moment it seemed that Nat Ridley would be either killed or
captured. But the same smile that had wrinkled the brown face of the
supposed Mexican now corrugated that of the sleuth and he shouted:
"Come in and get me!"
Into the room--occupied only by the detective it seemed--rushed the
Tola gang.
Then Nat Ridley put a whistle to his lips and blew a shrill blast.
Instantly certain boxes along the sides of the room were shoved aside
and there appeared two cowboys and Baldy Stoler and Berry Todd and a
number of United States revenue officers, each one grim of face and
holding two guns.
"Betrayed! Betrayed!" snarled Don Castro.
"All is not lost yet!" shouted El Capitan. "We are on Mexican soil.
These pigs of Americanos cannot arrest us!"
"There's where you're wrong!" cried Nat Ridley, his hand in his coat
pocket. "You're on United States soil. There's the international line!"
and he pointed to a black mark running along the floor just where the
door was set in the partition. "You're in the United States and you're
all prisoners!" his voice rang out. "This is the end of the Tola gang!"
"Not yet!" snarled El Capitan. "The double dagger will be avenged!"
He leaped at Nat with the two-pointed knife he drew from his coat,
but as he sprang there was a sharp report, a puff of smoke from the
detective's pocket, and El Capitan crumpled up on the floor, a bullet
through his heart.
"It is my turn!" yelled Don Castro.
He drew his gun and aimed at Nat from behind. But Berry Todd saw the
motion and the detective's gun spoke once. Don Castro went down, the
bullet striking him in the mouth as he opened it to yell his defiance.
Several of the Mexicans began firing, but they were poor shots and the
bullets flew wild, while the guns of the cowboys, the three detectives,
and those of the revenue officers did fearful execution. Several of the
Tola gang were killed, and the others, in a panic of fear, threw down
their weapons, raised their hands in the air, and cried out that they
surrendered.
"Well, then, I guess this is about all," remarked Nat Ridley as the
cowed wretches were led away to the Paloma jail, the fight having taken
place on the outskirts of the city. "Is Miss Ardell all right?" he
went on. "Where is she?"
"You can see for yourself," remarked Slim Jim. He went to a side door,
opened it, and Cora entered.
* * * * *
So ended the reign of terror instituted by the Tolas when they found
that the oil wells were more valuable than had been supposed. With the
leaders slain and most of the principals in jail, the order was all but
wiped out. In some ways it was a lawful secret society, and there were
good members of it, particularly in the mountains among the poor and
honest peons.
But the Tola had been corrupted by El Capitan for his own ends and
those of his friends, and the forcing of the oil wells from the
Lembergs, who were lawfully entitled to them, was only part of their
plans.
Nat Ridley had learned all their secrets while in their headquarters
disguised as the deaf and dumb Mexican. He learned how the deaths of
the three Lembergs had been brought about, and from the persons of the
slain and captured men were taken several large double daggers and a
number of the small ones, with the drugged points--emblems used to
strike terror to the hearts of the enemies of the Tolas.
"Dan Steele is avenged," said Nat when, having resumed his own
character, he was ready to go back to New York with Berry and Baldy.
"And my cousins' widows and the other heirs will be in undisputed
possession of their oil wells," added Cora Ardell. "My own interests
will also be safe now, thanks to you," she said to Nat with a grateful
smile.