Mason of Bar X Ranch

  CHAPTER XIII

  THE COUNTERFEITERS

  The firing ceased abruptly, each side fearing to hit one of its ownmen. The next instant Mason was grasped from behind and thrownviolently to the floor. His assailant seemed possessed with superhumanstrength and ferocity while he breathed with a peculiar whistlingsound through his teeth. Mason's brain worked like lightning as thebelief flashed through his mind that he was struggling with the demonhunchback dwarf.

  The beast's bony hands were at his throat and Mason foughtdesperately. He realized that he was being slowly strangled. His leftarm was wounded and lay useless at his side. As he vainly tried tobring his knee into the pit of the dwarf's stomach his hand touchedhis own revolver. With his remaining strength he managed to work itfree from the holster and brought the butt crashing down on thedwarf's head.

  The bony hands relaxed about his throat and he rolled the thing offhis body with a shudder. He realized how close he had been to death.

  He had stood near one of the windows when he had been attacked, and ashe lay there quietly getting his strength back he heard voiceswhispering outside the window. There was not a sound from inside theroom, each man being afraid to move or make a sound for fear ofbetraying his location to the other.

  He listened eagerly to the whispering, and to his joy discovered thatit was two of Bud's men trying to figure out how they could thrust alighted lantern through the window without getting shot.

  Evidently they had found a way, for there came a crash of broken glassand the lantern passed rapidly over Mason and stopped close to thecenter of the room. The cowboys had found a long pole and had tied thelantern to one end of it. At the appearance of the lantern a number ofbullets passed over Mason, and he was glad he had not attempted to geton his feet.

  The light showed a strange scene. Ricker lay on the floor with hishands and feet shackled.

  Trent Burton was bending low over him, the two deadly automatics stillin his hands. Scotty and Jim Haley stood facing each other with theirguns on a level, but neither dared to fire.

  "Stick that gun away, Jim, and be nice," drawled the Marshal. "I've gotyou covered and so has Bud there near the door."

  Jim's gun wavered a bit as he half turned his eyes towards the door.

  Mason had been watching Scotty and Jim from where he lay on the floorand fired the instant Jim's gun wavered. Jim's gun fell to the floor,while he grabbed his wrist with a curse. Mason quickly leveled his gunat the dwarf, who was crawling up on him again.

  "If you come one inch farther, you beast, I'll blow your fool headoff. This is the second time you have tried to murder me."

  He was in an ugly fighting mood, and his arm was beginning to give himconsiderable pain. The rest of Ricker's gang, seeing Jim Haley put outof action and their leader lying on the floor with his feet and handsshackled, lost heart and surrendered.

  Bud sent some of the men scouting around for an extra lamp.

  "I wonder who shot the lamp out," the Marshal queried, "it wasn'tdone by anybody in this room."

  "I did," the dwarf spoke up, grinning exultantly. "I was in the cellarand fired through a hole in the floor. Then while the fight was goingon I crawled through the window."

  "And well I know it," Mason said ruefully, "he crept up on me and hadme nearly strangled before I knocked him on the head with my gun. Hemust have a skull like iron."

  The Marshal after a brief struggle snapped a pair of handcuffs on thedwarf's wrists.

  "You are too dangerous a person to be at large, my most excellentengraver.

  "This dwarf," he continued, "was Ricker's chief engraver."

  Then, noticing Mason's wound, he called Jean Barry, his deputy, toexamine his arm. Jean made a thorough examination.

  "Your arm isn't broken, luckily; as near as I can tell the bullet justgrazed the bone in the elbow," he announced cheerfully, as Mason hadwinced as he handled the injured arm.

  "Well, it felt as though it was broken, I can't raise it up," Masonsaid grimly.

  The Marshal was keenly interested. He seemed worried about Mason'sinjury, and watched Jean as he put a crude bandage around the injuredmember.

  "Bud," the Marshal spoke up, "I propose we take a general inventory ofour men and see how many wounded we have and how bad their injuriesare. In the meantime we will send to the Post for a doctor. Who willvolunteer to go?"

  "I will," Scotty spoke up eagerly; "young Mason here did me a goodturn when he nailed Jim Haley, and I want to return the favor."

  "All right, Scotty, go ahead," Bud agreed; "isn't far to the Post, andwhile you're gone we'll look this ranch over."

  As most of the injured had received only slight flesh wounds, theMarshal and Bud undertook to examine the cellar and premises. TheMarshal paused as they were about to commence their search and watchedJean Barry, who was dressing the men's wounds.

  "Jean, after you get the men's wounds dressed, you had better go andbring in Ricker's guard," he said reflectively.

  "I've got Tug Conners bound securely," he added, "but I had to tap himon the head first, and he may be suffering."

  Ricker had been jerked to his feet none too gently by one of Bud's menand placed on a table with his back to the wall. The look of fear inhis eyes had died out, and he was regarding the Marshal with a look ofhate.

  "Who the hell are you, anyway?" he burst out savagely. "I've seen youbefore, somewhere in the East."

  The Marshal turned to the counterfeiter with a grim smile.

  "Right, you are, my counterfeiting friend," he answered suavely,"perhaps I can refresh your memory."

  Into his eyes came a look of reminiscence.

  "Follow me back ten years," he said, keeping his eyes fixed on Ricker,"to a little den on the East Side in New York. There had been a gangof counterfeiters shoving the queer, and they were operating aroundNew York and neighboring cities.

  "I was called in from another case I had been working on, and afterlong search succeeded in tracing the counterfeiters to this littleden I speak of. In making the capture of the ringleader, part of mydisguise was torn off, and that is the reason you remember me. In theexcitement of the struggle you escaped, and I sent one of my men afteryou."

  Ricker was regarding the Marshal sullenly, his face working in violentspasms mingled with fear with hate.

  "He trailed you to Baltimore," the Marshal continued relentlessly,"and as he was attempting your arrest you sent a bullet through hishead. After that, you disappeared and all efforts of my men failed tolocate you.

  "A short time ago, however, and through the efforts of my deputy, JeanBarry, I learned that you had headed for the West. As there has been aquantity of counterfeit money circulating in the East, I sent JeanBarry, who had at one time been a cowboy, out here to look you up.

  "In the course of time, Jean Barry had evidence enough against you towarrant my suspicions, so I came out here and worked with him. This isyour last attempt at counterfeiting, Ricker, for you will be tried forthe murder of my detective."

  "Trent Burton," Ricker ground out the name with an oath, "I'll neverbe tried for that murder, and only for this traitor, Jean Barry, youwould never have got the goods on me for this counterfeiting business.Only a few of my own men knew I was making the queer; the rest I keptin ignorance as they are only cattlemen.

  "I owe my discovery to Jean Barry's trickery; he came to me and hiredout as a cowboy, and I didn't suspect him of being a detective, butI'll promise you this much," the counterfeiter brought his shackledhands down on his knee with an oath, "there isn't a jail made thatwill hold me. I'll escape and get revenge on Jean Barry, and I'll getyou too, Mason.

  "Your father helped to get the evidence against me and I'll get you ifI have to strike you through your sweetheart, Josephine. Ha, that's atender spot, isn't it?"

  Mason had jumped to his feet, startled by the counterfeiter'svehemence. What if the man should make good his threat and do someinjury to Josephine? The thought made a chill run through his frame.

  "Come, Ricker,
stow that kind of talk. You're not in a position justnow to make threats," the Marshal cautioned him roughly.

  The counterfeiter lapsed into a moody silence and further questions bythe Marshal brought no response from him. Bud invited Mason to comewith them while they made an inspection of the cellar, after he hadfirst seen that the guards were placed to his satisfaction. In thecellar they found a complete plant for making counterfeit money. Theyhad been there but a few minutes when they heard a commotion abovethem. They were relieved when they heard Scotty's voice calling downto them. He wanted Mason to come up as he had brought a doctor.

  The doctor put a bandage on Mason's arm and soon his wound was feelingmuch better.

  "Scotty, you made good time in getting the doctor here," Mason saidgratefully, grasping his hand.

  Then a sudden inspiration seized him.

  "The Marshal and Bud are in the cellar breaking up the counterfeitingpress and apparatus," he told Scotty. "Do you remember how we had ourmen drawn around this ranch the night that Pete Carlo, the Mexican,slipped through our lines and got back to the mountains without beingseen?"

  "Shure," Scotty nodded eagerly.

  "Well, let's see if we can find out how he got past us. There must bea secret passage leading out of this cellar," Mason criedenthusiastically.

  "I'm game," Scotty agreed readily.

  They started for the cellar, but had they seen the look of dismay andfear that had come into the counterfeiter's face while they weretalking, they would have been puzzled.

  Scotty had borrowed the Marshal's flash lamp and took the lead, withMason following close on his heels. They carried their revolvers readyfor instant use, and as they stole cautiously through the darknessthey were amazed at the length and width of the cellar. There werenumerous casks strewn around and Scotty stumbled over one of them withsuch force as to bring a muttered oath from his lips.

  "Whisky casks," Mason said softly, smiling at Scotty's discomfiture."Evidently Ricker's men held wild orgies in this cellar-like cave, butwe don't seem to be finding the underground passage very fast."

  They could still hear the vigorous blows from the Marshal and Bud'shammers as they kept at their work of demolishing the counterfeiter'splant.

  "You wait right here, laddie, and I'll get you a lantern. We willstand a better show of finding the underground passage if we each havea light," Scotty whispered.

  This was good logic and Mason readily agreed to the plan, aftercautioning him to hurry.

  "Keep your gun handy in case you are attacked, laddie," thegood-natured Scot warned him. "When you see two lights coming this wayyou will know I am coming back. We were damn fools not to think ofanother light when we started, but I guess I can get one all right."

  Mason sat down on an empty cask and pressed his hand wearily over hisforehead as he listened to Scotty's retreating footsteps. He wasbeginning to feel exhausted. The past few hours of excitement had toldheavily on his nerves. He caught himself nodding several times and,rose to his feet in disgust.

  "This won't do," he said angrily to himself, "you've got to pullyourself together, Jack Mason. We're going to find that secret passagewhen Scotty comes back, old top, dontcherknow, as Percy would say."

  He tried to figure out how long Scotty had been gone. It had seemedlike hours since he went for the lantern, and Mason began to chafewith impatience at the delay. It was so dark in the cellar that hecould not see the hands on his watch, but he knew in all reason thatScotty had not been gone longer than ten minutes at most.

  Suddenly he started up violently, his overtired nerves tuned to thehighest pitch.

  His tense ears had caught a sound like the clicking of someinstrument. He strained forward in the inky darkness, his body rigidand revolver drawn.

  Had his tired nerves played him a trick? No, the thing was clickingagain, but very faint, and he reasoned from the sound that it must beat least thirty feet from him. Was somebody signaling from the fardepths of the cellar to Ricker?

  He was sure that was the reason for the clicking sound. Abruptly thenoise ceased. His heart was pumping furiously as he silently turnedaround and peered into the darkness. To his great joy two lights werecoming his way. Scotty was returning at last.

  "Don't speak above a whisper, Scotty," Mason cautioned him in a lowvoice as the Scot attempted to explain his delay. "While you wereafter the lantern I heard a strange tapping noise, something like atelegraph instrument. It sounded to me like someone was trying tosignal from this cellar to Ricker. We had better go slow as we may getshot from ambush."

  In the dim light Scotty's face showed his astonishment. "I supposed wehad all the gang as prisoners upstairs," he said, gazing at Mason inwonder.

  "Just the same, I'm sure there is somebody in this cellar besidesourselves," Mason whispered impatiently; "you take the lantern and Iwill carry the small flash light. I can tuck it under my left arm andthat will give me a chance to use my good right arm. I can handle myrevolver all right if I am attacked. You take one wall and I theother, and we will circle this cellar and look for the secretpassage."

  This plan was followed out at once and Mason could hear Scotty atintervals as he stumbled over some object while groping his way alongthe cellar wall. It was a dangerous undertaking, as both carriedlights, and they took a chance of drawing a shot from some hidden foe.Mason was closely examining the wall when he heard a sharp exclamationfrom Scotty.

  "Come out of that! what are you skulking down here for?" he heard himsay in forceful tones.

  Mason straightened up in surprise.

  "What have you found, Scotty?" he called.

  "Come over and see," the Scot answered wrathfully.

  Mason crossed rapidly to the opposite side and beheld Scotty holdinghis lantern in the face of the blackest negro woman he had ever seen.The eyes of the negress were rolling in abject fear and her limbs weretrembling violently.

  Whether her fear was assumed or not, he couldn't tell, but rememberingthe signaling noise, he regarded her with suspicion.

  "Woman, what position do you fill in this house, and what were youhiding in the cellar for?" Mason questioned her sharply.

  The negress looked at him mutely.

  "She must be a little deaf," muttered Scotty.

  "Come, tell me the truth," Mason continued in a louder voice. "Wewon't hurt you."

  "I'se de cook," she faltered, gaining courage from Mason's reassuringsmile. "And when dem gemmen's done come heah and begins a fighting andshooting, why I done runs into de cellah fo mah life."

  "Sounds good, Belinda, or whatever your name is," he said, his facegrowing stern again, "But what were you signaling to Ricker for?"

  Her face took on a blank look.

  "Signaling," she repeated in wonder, "'deed I wasn't making signals toanybody, I was keeping just quiet as a mouse awaiting fo dem mens toleave."

  Mason was inclined to believe the negress was telling the truth.

  "Scotty, you had better take her to Bud and the Marshal and let themquestion her," he said after a short pause. "I will continue thesearch until you come back, and it would be a good idea to bring theMarshal back with you."

  From the look on Scotty's face it was evident he didn't relish histask, but he complied with the request with fairly good grace andhustled the negress along while she continued to protest her innocenceof any wrong. Left to himself, Mason again began a systematic search.

  Before the interruption by the negress, he had noted that one portionof the wall appeared to have oak beams running from top to bottom. Henow went to this part of the wall and was feeling over one of the oaksupports when his hand accidentally touched a knot which projectedsuspiciously out from the surface. He pressed hard on it, and to hisdelight that part of the wall began to swing slowly inward! Somethingwas moving on the other side of the wall and he held his breath whilewaiting for an attack. Standing to one side he snapped his flashlightout and held his revolver pointed into the opening. Unable to resist asudden impulse, he flashed on his light and fou
nd himself looking intothe muzzle of a revolver and the villainous face of Pete Carlo, thehalfbreed Mexican!

  Mason realized his helpless position, and a sneering smile came intothe halfbreed's face.

  "So," he taunted, showing his wolfish teeth, "Ze brave American dog,he walk into a trap, ha?"

  "I settle first with the dog of a Gringo, then I steal the fairJosephine again, and she shall watch me torture you, Gringo dog."

  His baleful eyes were looking gloatingly at his victim. Mason's bloodboiled at the mention of Josephine's name. He held himself in check,however, as his only hope now was to gain time and give Scotty achance to rescue him. He figured at the worst he would make a suddenattack on the halfbreed and chance taking him by surprise.

  "Don't be too sure of your game, you yellow cur," he said scornfully,hoping to anger the halfbreed. "I've sent for two of our men and theywill be here any minute now, and I want to warn you if you ever harmJosephine, I will kill you like I would a rattle snake."

  He raised his voice purposely as he made the assertion.

  "Silence! dog of a Gringo!" the halfbreed hissed, "you talk more, Ishoot you dead."

  Mason wondered why the halfbreed didn't attempt to close the door andtake him out through the secret passage. He had just made up his mindto risk an attack on the halfbreed when he heard a slight noise behindhim. He turned swiftly, but too late. He heard the swish of someobject as it fell with crushing force on his head, and he sank to thefloor unconscious.