CHAPTER XXIV

GRACE SOLVES THE MOUNTAIN MYSTERY

“Joe Smoky Face!” cried Grace Harlowe. “What does this mean?”

“Me kill um!” raged the Indian who had guarded their ponies on the night of the Overland Riders’ arrival, after Grace had removed the gag from his mouth.

“Kill whom?”

“Con Bates and Ben Jackson.”

Grace freed the man from his bonds.

“Are there rifles here?”

“Yes.”

“Get two, quick, if you know where they are. Is any one else here in this place?”

“All gone. Not come back till moonrise. When come back mebby kill white girls. Catch Joe Smoky Face and fetch here.”

“Joe, did you shoot that arrow into our camp to warn us?” demanded Grace, a sudden light flooding her mentality.

“Me shoot arrow.” Joe ran down the tunnel a few yards and returned with two rifles, both loaded.

“Now we are all right, if you are certain that no one will come here. Tell me as quickly as you can, what happened to you.”

From the Indian’s monosyllables, and, using her imagination freely, Grace inferred that Joe had overheard the bandits when they were spying on the Overland Riders’ camp, and, after the men had gone away as Joe supposed, he had fired the arrow into the camp to warn Grace Harlowe and her friends. The bandits, however, had not gone away, and when they saw what Joe had done, they suddenly fell upon him, bound and gagged him and carried him to their lair in the ancient Community House of the Cliff Dwellers.

“Was Con Bates one of those men?” she asked.

“Him come along.”

“Who is Ben Jackson?”

“Bad man who follow white girls till Bates make escape at Globe and come along to help. Much bad men. Steal much. Plenty here. You find. Joe Smoky Face know where.”

“You say they have gone to Globe. Con Bates would not dare to go there. How did he get out of jail?”

“Not know. Mebby he not go Globe to-day. Ben Jackson he go. Mebby Con he stay in bushes.”

“How many men come here?”

Joe counted six on his fingers.

“Show me the way out,” demanded Grace.

“Hole in mountain. Joe show. Joe show other things.”

The Indian did. He led the Overton girl into dark recesses in the wall of the tunnel, where, by the light of her lamp, she saw plunder that made her eyes widen. It was mostly small merchandise, but valuable. There were gold and silver articles and some precious stones, but not many, that Grace, in her hasty examination, thought were of considerable value.

In another cache there were silks, carefully wrapped, and a regular arsenal of rifles, revolvers and ammunition, all probably stolen. Grace Harlowe’s eyes glowed.

“Were those men here last night--I mean did they shoot from out there?” pointing to the mouth of the cave of the Cliff Dwellers.

“Yes, shoot at white girls’ camp.”

“I thought so. When I saw the flashes from their rifles, and this morning looked at this place with my glasses, I made up my mind that the shots had been fired from here. Joe, we must catch these men, every one of them. Do you think you can get back to your people without being seen, provided any of the bandits should still be about your camp?”

“Joe get back.”

“Very good. Go back to your camp on the mountain side and send a trustworthy Indian to get the sheriff. I will send a letter by you to the clerk at the Lodge, and he can telephone for the sheriff. When the sheriff and his party are found, have them led here, but do not try to get here until dark. Do the bandits keep a guard on the outside of this place at night?”

“Joe not know.”

The Indian was trotting ahead, Grace lighting the way with her lamp. She observed that the instinct of the Indian enabled him to follow the outward trail with as little difficulty as if he had been over it many times.

“Come end now,” finally announced Joe, the trail having narrowed down so that they were obliged to go in single file. It was dark as night where they were, but Joe knew how to reach the light. She saw him put a shoulder to the low roof and lift from a narrow opening a slab of rock, which he cautiously shoved an inch or so to one side, and for several minutes stood with eyes at the crack he had made.

“All gone,” said Joe, pushing the slab of rock aside.

Following her guide, Grace crawled out and looked about her. The opening through which she had emerged was on the sloping side of the mountain, well screened by cactus. The Indian replaced the slab of stone, which then looked to be a part of the cavern wall.

“Very simple,” muttered Grace, gazing about her and fixing every detail of the surroundings in her mind. The Overton girl then wrote a note to the clerk of the Lodge, telling him exactly what was to be done, and that she would remain on watch awaiting the arrival of the officers after dark. She handed the note to Joe Smoky Face.

“Joe, you will come back with the sheriff, so he will not miss the place. I have written that you will. Go, now!”

The Indian trotted away and Grace saw him secrete the rifle he had brought out with him. Following his departure Grace got her bearings and started around the mountain to rejoin her friends whom she knew were anxiously awaiting a signal from her.

The amazement of the Overland Riders and their friends when Grace came walking in among them was too great for words for a few seconds; then the Overlanders gave a shout.

“We must pack up at once and the party must return to the Lodge. I’ve made a great discovery and solved the mystery of the Apache Trail,” she announced.

Grace then briefly related the story of her adventure and told the party what she wished them to do.

“Above all, say nothing to any person outside of our circle. Do not even discuss our discovery among yourselves where possibly you may be overheard, for those men probably have confederates. I wish them to come back so we may capture them. Miss Cartwright, will you ride my pony back to camp?”

“Yes. Why?”

“So that the same number of persons may return on horseback. Go directly to the camp, then walk back to the Lodge. I shall remain on the mountain to watch the tunnel entrance.”

“Not alone, Mrs. Gray. Surely, we cannot permit you to do that,” objected General Gordon. “I shall remain there with you.”

Grace shook her head.

“It won’t do. Your absence would cause comment, which is exactly what I do not wish. Having rifle and revolver I shall be able to take care of myself. All that I shall attempt to do is to watch for the return of the bandits and make certain that they do not post a sentry outside. You must be going now, but for goodness sake pull up that rope and string, and leave me some food to carry in my kit. It is probable that I shall not be back until late to-night.”

Ike hurriedly packed up, and after good-byes had been said the party started down the mountain side on their way to the point where their horses were tethered. Grace soon lost sight of them, then, tucking the rifle under her arm, she walked slowly around the mountain, and down, until she came within sight of the opening through which she had made her exit from the tunnel.

After watching for some time, Grace sought a hiding place, which she found in a slight depression behind a shelf of shale rock. She knew that there were long, weary hours of waiting ahead of her, but Grace was determined, now that the opportunity was hers, to turn the tables for good on the men who had tormented the Overland Riders.

Con Bates had escaped; how, she could not imagine, and Ben Jackson had assumed to himself the task of revenging the bandits’ grudge against the Overland outfit that had objected to being held up and robbed.

Grace passed most of the time resting, lying back gazing at the sky and the mountains that stretched away for many miles. At dusk she nibbled at her luncheon, then settled down in earnest to her vigil. A new moon hung high in the west, which she knew would shed a faint light on her elevated position until well into the evening.

Ten o’clock came, but still no bandits. A few moments after ten o’clock, however, Grace’s patience was rewarded. She discovered a crouching figure, which at first she took to be an Indian, but a moment later saw that it was a white man. He was followed at intervals by five others, all cautiously approaching the tunnel entrance. After a careful scrutiny of the entrance, and, apparently finding nothing wrong there, the six men entered, after one had removed the stone. After the six men had crawled in, the tunnel opening was closed behind them.

Grace waited a few moments, then, springing up, ran to the scene, and began piling rocks on the entrance slab, some being so heavy that she was obliged to roll them. This she continued until her hands were blistered and her back was aching desperately.

“There! I’d like to see a bandit get out now,” emphasized the Overland Rider, drawing off a little way, and sitting down with rifle at ready in her lap.

Not a sound was heard from the tunnel entrance for nearly an hour, then a faint tapping there indicated to her that the bandits were trying to break their way out, the prisoner’s escape, no doubt, having been discovered.

Grace fired her rifle into the pile of rocks, whereupon the tapping ceased, but her vigil became an anxious one from that moment on. Shortly after midnight the Overton girl discovered a shadowy figure creeping toward her over the rocks. Grace eyed it keenly, then levelled her rifle at it.

“Hands up!” she commanded sharply.

Joe Smoky Face rose and waved a hand.

“All right! I know you,” called Grace in a relieved tone of voice. “Where is the sheriff?”

“Him come.” Joe uttered a whistle, whereupon Jim Collins, with his deputy, Wheaton, and a posse of ten men, including General Gordon and Lieutenant Wingate, clambered up the rocks.

“Your men are over there, Sheriff. I have blocked the entrance, and believe they are near it now,” Grace informed the sheriff as he came up to her.

“Is there no other way by which they can get out, Miss?” he asked.

“No, sir.”

“You know the lay of the land; what do you suggest?”

“Remove the rocks that I have piled up until you come to the slab. Tell the men--there are six in there--to lay down their arms and come out, one at a time. Should they refuse, you might tell them you will keep them bottled up until they surrender, even if it takes a month.”

The loose stones were immediately removed, as Grace had suggested; whereupon the sheriff delivered his ultimatum to the bandits. Lieutenant Wingate, in the meantime, had formed the posse on the upper side of the tunnel opening.

Several minutes elapsed without a sound being heard from the tunnel, then a voice called to Sheriff Collins.

“We surrender! Don’t shoot!”

“Look out for tricks!” warned Grace Harlowe. “I think that is Con Bates speaking.”

The bandits pushed the slab from the opening and came out singly and apparently unarmed.

“Look out!” cried Grace sharply.

Almost in the same instant a revolver in the hands of Con Bates was fired. The five other bandits instantly began banging away at the posse, at the same time scattering and starting to run.

“Let ’em have it low! Don’t kill them, please,” begged Grace.

Sheriff Collins downed Con Bates with a bullet in his shoulder.

Grace took no part in the battle, but sat crouched, chin in hands, narrowly watching the fight while bullets whined over her head and ricochetted from the rocks on either side of her.

The five bandits remaining after their leader had been downed were tumbled over with bullets in their legs in almost that many seconds. But the five were plucky. They struggled to their feet and again began firing. Two volleys from the posse put them down a second time, and this time they stayed down.

“That is what I call good shooting!” declared Grace Harlowe, standing up.

“Great work! Great work!” approved the general.

“A fine bunch of critters, you are!” raged the sheriff, addressing the defeated bandits. “Ought to finish you right here. Thank this woman that I don’t do that very thing. I’ll do it anyhow if any one of you galoots so much as bats an eyelash. Throw those guns away!” roared Mr. Collins.

The Bates gang gave up and were quickly manacled and searched for further weapons. The prisoners secured, Sheriff Collins strode over to Grace.

“Shake, Pard!” he cried, thrusting out a wiry brown hand. “Bet you’d face an old she bear with cubs, an’ laugh at her when she made murder faces at you. We won’t have any more trouble with these critters. I reckon we’ve got the whole gang now, an’ the trail is clear, thanks to you an’ your friends.”

At Grace’s suggestion, Joe led the sheriff and some of his men to the tunnel, where a large amount of valuable plunder was recovered. That night the prisoners were bound to horses and started for the jail at Globe where, this time, they remained until eventually sentenced to long terms in prison. Of Belle Bates, no trace was found. The guests of the Lodge next day gave a dance in honor of the Overlanders, to whom belonged the honor of ridding the Apache Trail of the last band of desperate men that had preyed upon it.

General Gordon and his party left a day later, after good-byes had been regretfully said. At Grace’s suggestion a purse was made up by the girls for Joe Smoky Face, after he had assisted Ike Fairweather to pack the equipment in readiness for moving next day, and early on the following morning the Overland Riders set out in their saddles for the long journey to Phœnix, where they arrived a week later, tanned by sun and weather, eyes sparkling and spirits effervescing.

That day they bade farewell to the faithful old stagecoach driver, who had already shipped their ponies by rail, and was to follow the animals on to Globe that night.

In the evening, the Overland Riders held a meeting at the hotel, at which they discussed their future plans. It was decided to make the organization a permanent one, and to seek recreation and adventure in the saddle each season, until they tired of it.

It had been a wonderful vacation, with just enough excitement to make it interesting, as Grace expressed it, leaving the girls of the old Overton Unit better physically and mentally, with a new beauty in face and figure, each better equipped to meet life’s responsibilities through the coming year.

* * * * *

“We have not decided where we shall go on our next journey,” reminded Elfreda Briggs next day, after the Overlanders had settled themselves in a Pullman car for the homeward journey.

“I was just thinking of a suggestion offered by Mr. Fairweather,” said Grace. “In telling me of the adventures of a cousin of his on the American Desert, he casually mentioned that some time we should try to make the journey across it in the saddle.”

“What is there there?” questioned Anne.

“Principally sand and terrific heat. Crossing the desert on horseback really is a tremendous undertaking, but, if not strenuous enough to satisfy us, we might even essay Death Valley. Mr. Fairweather said we could get his cousin to act as our guide. I am rather inclined toward the Great American Desert.

“_Alors!_ Let’s go,” urged Elfreda Briggs.

“Other things being equal, what do you say, folks?” questioned Grace smilingly.

“Yes!” answered the Overlanders enthusiastically.

Grace chuckled.

“You do not know it, of course, but, now that you have decided, I am going to say that you Overlanders are headed straight for an adventure that will satisfy even Hippy Wingate. I have no doubt the desert is yawning for us at this very moment,” declared Grace.

As later events proved, Grace Harlowe was not a false prophet, and, in a following volume, entitled “GRACE HARLOWE’S OVERLAND RIDERS ON THE GREAT AMERICAN DESERT,” will be related the experiences of these adventure-loving girls amid scenes new to them, and in facing trials that called for sheer pluck and clear heads while riding the trackless alkali desert of the Great West.

THE END

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Transcriber’s Note:

Page 42 while we are in motion. _changed to_ while we are in motion.”

Page 221 General Gordon’s wife and companion. _changed to_ General Gordon’s wife and companion.”

Page 224 who had reasurred Mrs. Gordon _changed to_ who had reassured Mrs. Gordon

Page 241 seach for the source of the voice _changed to_ search for the source of the voice

Boys of the Army Series 6, 7 and 8 have been respectively _changed to_ 5, 6 and 7