“You’ve hit it, Harry! With the entrance of the shaft blocked, no one could discover it unless they had some clew to this narrow side passage which we have just used. Remember how I said I’d search every foot of land before I’d give up? We’d have found this place eventually.”
“I think we would. But now that we’re in the main alley, it would be a good idea to go on.”
Carter Boswick chuckled. He was positive that the end of the quest was within immediate reach. This sloping shaft could not be of any great length. He was more eager than Harry. Without further delay, he pushed into the shaft and urged his companion on.
THE downward course was the natural way to go. Harry and Carter trudged along the narrow-gauge track, the beam of the flashlight showing the way ahead. They had not traveled more than fifty feet before the presence of a blocking wall became detectable ahead. Either the shaft ended there or turned, Harry remarked.
As the men approached more closely, they saw that the wall marked the division of the shaft into two separate corridors: one to the left, the other to the right. The tracks ended at that point.
“Hold up a minute, Carter,” said Harry. “We’ve got to pick our way, from here on. Evidently these fellows tried to turn, hoping to strike a good supply of ore. When, their first effort failed, they went the other way.”
They were at the end of the main shaft. The side corridors were like the bar on a letter T. Both ways were practically level; there appeared no choice.
Harry, in his deliberation, first turned the flash back up the main shaft. Its rays faded amid the long corridor. Then he illuminated the path to the left, to reveal a blocking wall about thirty feet distant.
Harry noted what appeared to be an opening in the floor of the side passage, at the barring wall.
“Try the other direction,” suggested Carter.
Harry responded.
The same situation revealed itself. Thirty feet of passage; then a wall with glittering streaks. Beneath it, the edge of a gaping hole.
“When the turns didn’t work, they must have excavated straight down,” remarked Harry. “This mine must have been a heartbreaker. No wonder the others called it quits.”’
“Come on,” urged Carter eagerly.
“We’re not calling quits. I’ll bet there’s something in this place besides galena or whatever that glittering stuff is. Strike out to the left, Harry.”
They made their way along the passage which Carter had indicated. Here, the floor was rough, in contrast to the finished surface along which the track had been laid.
The investigators stopped when they came to the hole. Harry’s conjecture proved correct. It was a vertical shaft, round and jagged, some thirty feet in depth.
“Nothing down there,” observed Harry, as he turned the flashlight toward the bottom.
“Doesn’t look that way,” responded Carter, peering over the edge. “Let’s try the other corridor. We can come back here later.”
They turned and made their way to the dividing point. Both were tense. Harry began to feel an impending sense of danger within these depths. There was a sinister, spectral atmosphere in this forgotten mine. Carter Boswick sensed it, also.
“Creepy, isn’t it?” he questioned, with a slight laugh.
“Come on,” returned Harry. “We’ve got to take a look down this other corridor. It may be the finish.”
“The finish?” repeated Carter solemnly. “That doesn’t sound so good, Harry. Let’s say it may be the beginning. If—”
He did not end the sentence. At that precise moment, the unexpected occurred. The investigators were almost at the end of the right passage—the hole which they were seeking was no more than a dozen feet away.
But as Carter Boswick spoke, there was a click from the hole beyond. The brilliant rays of an electric lantern filled the corridor, outshining Harry’s light.
Caught in this sudden illumination, Harry and Carter stopped flat-footed, as a voice called out an order. The echoes of its threatening tone were hollow within that rocky vault.
“Stop where you are!” came the cry. “One step more, and you die! I’ve got you covered. Up with your hands!”
CARTER and Harry obeyed instinctively. The flashlight fell from Harry’s grasp. Caught totally unaware, with their automatics in their pockets, instead of in their hands, both men were at the mercy of the one who had challenged them.
A nervous, frenzied laugh sounded from the hole ahead. Then, from the pit, emerged the head and shoulders of a man, a revolver sparkling in the light as it pointed forward from the extended hand that held it.
Into the illumination came the challenger; a white-faced individual who half raised himself from the hole. The man’s revolver wavered, as though in an inexperienced hand; yet its muzzle formed a constant covering that was too dangerous to resist.
Harry Vincent clenched his upraised fists. He was angry to realize that he had led Carter Boswick into such a trap as this. He threw a sidelong glance at his companion. He was amazed to note that Carter’s face was twitching with a sudden fury.
The reason came an instant later. Carter Boswick had recognized the man whose hand had balked them. His voice, low and harsh, poured forth its imprecations.
“Drew Westling!” Carter was contemptuous as he pronounced his cousin’s name. “Drew Westling! You double-crosser! I knew you were in this dirty game!”
CHAPTER XXI.
THE ENEMY REVEALED.
DREW WESTLING’S hand trembled as Carter Boswick spoke. The heir’s cousin was resting on the brink of the pit from which he had come, blinking nervously at the men whom he had balked. His face was pale at the edge of the light; his eyes seemed bewildered.
“Go ahead!” growled Carter. “Shoot us, you snake! That’s what you’re here for!”
For the first time, Drew Westling seemed to recognize the voice that he heard. He still held the gun in his shaking hand but when he spoke, his tone was no longer one of menace.
“Carter!” he exclaimed. “Carter! It can’t be you!”
Carter Boswick’s gruff laugh and words of growled animosity left no doubt as to his identity. Drew Westling rubbed his free hand across a perspiring forehead.
“Carter!” Drew’s voice was nervous. “Carter! I—I thought—you had gone!”
With that, the challenger sank exhausted at the edge of the pit. The revolver clattered from his hand. Carter Boswick, with an exultant cry of triumph, began to leap forward. Harry Vincent gripped him by the arm.
“Easy, old man!” Harry exclaimed. “Hold back! He’s all right. Can’t you see he’s not your enemy? He’s ready to drop from sheer exhaustion!”
Harry’s words were restraining. Their truth was evident. Drew Wresting had stretched on the rough floor of the corridor. His breath was coming in long gasps. Carter Boswick’s attitude changed instantly.
“Drew!” he exclaimed, in a kindly tone. “What’s the matter, old man? Tell me—how did you get here?”
Carter was at his cousin’s side, he was clasping the hand that Drew weakly proffered. Harry Vincent arrived beside the pair. Both he and Carter could see that Westling’s face was deathly pale. They propped the frail young man against the side of the corridor. Drew Westling smiled weakly.
“Guess it’s all”—he paused to draw a breath—“it’s all—been—too much of a strain for me. Thinking—you had gone. Trying to do it—all alone—”
“Tell us about it,” suggested Carter.
Drew pointed to the pit. Harry turned his own flashlight downward. The glow revealed a large flat slab at the bottom of a five-foot pit.
