CHAPTER XVIII

IN THE TOILS OF HENDERSON

Returning to the main shaft, following a tour of exploration through the mine, Dick and Sandy were staggered by the discovery that during their absence some one had removed the rope and had closed the trap. Darkness enveloped them. The stream of light, which had poured through the wide opening in the floor of the cabin, had been cut off. The shock of the discovery for a moment unnerved the two young adventurers. The thing was incredible—almost past belief! Sandy raised his candle aloft and stared up through its flickering light. Dick smothered a cry, then stood mopping his perspiring face, too dumbfounded for words.

After the first shock of surprise, it occurred to Dick that Toma was playing a joke upon them. Piqued and resentful because of his and Sandy’s refusal to postpone the exploration of the mine, their guide had probably decided to teach them a lesson. No doubt, he wanted to frighten them a little in his effort to revenge his wounded feelings. Such an explanation seemed reasonable enough. It caused Dick to smile to himself and presently to chuckle aloud:

“Toma’s done this, Sandy. The old boy’s a little peeved because we wouldn’t listen to him. If we wait here a few minutes, he’ll relent and open the trap.”

They waited in silence. Sandy nudged Dick and laughed. In order to pass the time quickly, they went over and commenced to examine the sacks of gold, piled against one side of the shaft.

Ten, fifteen, twenty minutes—and no sound from Toma! Dick sat down and began mopping his face again. Sandy blew out his candle, grumbling to himself.

“A joke has its limits,” he sputtered. “In about two more seconds——”

Footfalls sounded overhead. A low rumble of voices, a clatter of something on the floor—and the trap came open. Light streamed down, lighting up the shaft.

“Bear!” exclaimed an unfamiliar voice. “Better keep back. They’re armed!”

“No, I tell yuh, we got their rifles. Fink,” the tone was overbearing and threatening, “get a move on an’ throw down that rope.”

The rope came down with a dull thud. Then the voice:

“Get out o’ that. Scramble up that rope. You’re both down there—we know it.”

A string of blasphemous oaths accompanied the sharp command. Sandy shrank back close to Dick. They were both shaking with terror.

“Do yuh hear!” screamed Henderson, enraged at the delay. “Your game’s up, I tell yuh. I’m givin’ yuh just five minutes to come outta that hole.”

“I can’t,” moaned Sandy. “I can’t, Dick!”

With difficulty, Dick was gaining control of himself.

“We must, Sandy,” he quavered. “There’s no help for it. They have the upper hand now. Let me help you to your feet.”

Sandy could scarcely stand. He trembled, and raised a white, pathetic face to the opening.

“We’re coming, Henderson,” Dick called out, his voice ringing tragically.

Slowly, tremblingly, they went up. Dick’s head, then his shoulders projected through the opening. Strong, rough arms yanked him forward with a force so violent that his jaws snapped. He was lying on the floor now, Sandy beside him. The leering, uncouth faces above were faces without pity. A circle of eyes, like those of hungry wolves, glared down at them. Big, powerful—a tower of brute strength and wickedness—Bear Henderson stormed through the group of men, cursing roundly.

“Truss ’em up! Truss ’em up, you fools. Think we got all day to stand around in. Flick—bring that rope!”

The boys were bound hand and foot, then dragged across the floor and kicked into a corner. Through a smother of dust, Dick perceived that the party of outlaws were preparing to make a descent into the mine. Above the din and confusion, came the hoarse, bellowed orders of Henderson.

One by one, the moose-hide sacks, containing the gold stored in the shaft, were lifted up through the trap. A perfect bedlam of cries and shouts arose. Order was forgotten. Sweating men, their faces distorted with greed and passion, clawed over the precious metal, snarling like beasts.

For a time it looked as if Henderson might lose control of the outlaws. With one exception, every man cursed and fought around the moose-hide sacks, turning deaf ears to their leader. This rebellion against authority transformed Henderson from the brute he was to a glaring-eyed madman. Never before in all his life had Dick seen anything to equal the awful fury of the man, as he leaped here and there through that pack of human wolves and beat them into submission.

In less than five minutes, the man, called Flick, was the only one left of the cowering band who dared to dispute its leader’s authority. Flick had backed away, nursing a cut over his right eye, blood trickling down his face. His cheeks were livid. As Henderson rushed towards him, a knife gleamed and whirred through the air, missing the outlaw by a scant two inches. A short time later Baptiste La Lond, the only one of the party who had shown little interest in the sacks of gold, proceeded to remove the unconscious body of Flick. He accomplished this task by the simple expedient of dragging it out by the heels, yanking it brutally along the floor, through the doorway and thence outside.

Immediately the room became more quiet. With a jerk of his head, Henderson tossed back his mop of yellow hair and wiped his face with the back of one hairy hand.

“Any more o’ yuh devils lookin’ fer trouble—step out!”

No one moved. Sulky faces, many of them battered almost to a pulp, were cast down; shoulders drooped in dejection. Not even the breath of a murmur stirred through their broken ranks.

“Yuh got us licked, Bear, an’ yuh know it,” trembled one of the outlaws. “We didn’t mean no harm jes’ lookin’ at that gold. There ain’t a nugget missin’.”

“No, I suppose not,” snarled their chief. “Couldn’t see nothin’, could I? Empty yer pockets fer I knock yuh all down again!”

Hastily, they complied. In spite of the torture of the rope that bound him, Dick choked back a laugh as each one brought to light handful after handful of the tell-tale nuggets and passed them over to their brutal master.

Returning from his gentle mission, Baptiste La Lond sauntered through the door and made his way unhesitatingly over to the corner where Dick and Sandy lay.

“Ah, ze pretty mounted police boy,” he chortled, prodding Dick with his foot. “Where is ze fine uniform now?”

Dick stared back in defiance, but made no answer.

“Pardon, monsieur!” Mockingly, La Lond bowed low before him. Then he turned to the outlaws with what he considered to be a humorous gesture.

“Ze leetle boy ees feel sick now—so veree sick. He not feel lak talk today.”

One or two of the outlaws guffawed loudly.

“Come out o’ that!” growled Henderson. “Leave that boy alone. We got work to do.”

Baptiste cringed and slunk away from the corner. Turning upon his men, Henderson raised his voice: “Listen tuh me, yuh yellow skunks—I’m boss o’ this party. If yuh don’t believe it, jes’ try some more o’ your funny tricks. None o’ this gold ain’t gonna be divided ’til we get back. The police won’t find much when they come. Do yuh understand?”

“Yes,” came the cowed answer.

“All right!” The outlaw glared about him threateningly before he proceeded: “Now, I’ll tell yuh somethin’: We got jes’ five days to get what we can outta this mine. I’m gonna strip it. These few sacks here ain’t all we’re gonna get.”

“How do yuh figger yer gonna do it?” inquired the man who had previously spoken.

“Work!” boomed Henderson. “We’re gonna work this mine four days an’ four nights like it’s never been worked before. Not countin’ them two boys over there, there’s ten o’ us. Scar-Face’ll bring up a few Indians an’ I’m gonna make them get busy too. I’m plannin’ to run two shifts fer each one o’ the shafts. Any o’ yuh got any objections?” he inquired belligerently.

“Ze more we get, monsieur, ze more we divide,” Baptiste pointed out.

“Sure! That’s what I’m tryin’ to tell yuh. Now, as I said before, the police is comin’. One o’ my Indian runners was here last night with the news. We gotta work fast an’ we gotta work sure. If there’s any way o’ wreckin’ the mine before we go, I’m gonna do it.”

“We ought to be able to stop the police, Bear,” one of the men declared.

“What for? There ain’t no sense to it. If yuh devils is willin’ to work, we can clean up plenty in a few days.”

Greed and avarice was without doubt the only real bond that held the outlaws together. Even the domineering force and brutality of Henderson would have been inadequate to cope for any length of time with so murderous a crew. At thought of the great wealth lying in store for them, the sulky, glowering looks, that were cast in the direction of their leader, faded. The tension slackened. In a very few minutes the room was noisy again—the scene of bustling and excited activity.