Frank chuckled.
“So that was your game, was it? You thought you’d sneak down here and grab the gold, then make your escape under cover of the blizzard. If we hadn’t got here first, you would have done it, too. Your men will be liable to take revenge on us after that, won’t they? Why, they’ll want to see you hanged!”
Black Pepper was silent. His bluff had failed, and he knew it. He knew that when the other outlaws heard he had been captured in the blue room they would realize that he had been trying to steal a march on them and make away with the gold without their knowledge.
Joe led the way down the passage into the next chamber, and from there they proceeded out into the main shaft.
“I guess we were right after all when he thought we heard noises,” he called back to Frank. “It was our friend here making his way down into the mine.”
“He came down quietly enough. I nearly jumped out of my shoes when I saw him standing there with those revolvers pointed at us. We’ll say that much for you, Black Pepper—you took us completely by surprise.”
The outlaw grunted, but it was not with satisfaction.
Joe began to ascend the ladder that led up the side of the shaft.
“Up you go,” declared Frank, prodding the desperado in the ribs with the barrel of the revolver. Black Pepper scrambled up the rungs with alacrity.
They made the tedious climb without trouble, and when Joe emerged at the top of the shaft he took up his position and covered Black Pepper with the revolver until the outlaw was again on the surface and until Frank had joined him. The blizzard had died down to a mild snowfall, although darkness had fallen.
Far below, they could see the few twinkling lights of Lucky Bottom. A clearly defined trail led out toward the road. Joe took the lead once more.
So the odd procession made its way through the snow, the outlaw shambling despondently and dispiritedly between his captors. The weight of the gold was considerable, but Frank and Joe scarcely noticed it, so exultant were they over their double victory. They had not only recovered the gold for its rightful owners, but they had captured one of the most notorious outlaws of the West in the bargain.
When they reached Hank Shale’s cabin they marched Black Pepper up to the door. Joe stepped inside and, still covering the outlaw, bade him enter.
Frank saw his father sitting up in bed, wide-eyed with astonishment, and Hank Shale and Bart Dawson by the fire, their mouths agape. Bart Dawson had just been in the act of putting his pipe in his mouth as they entered, and he held it suspended, staring at the trio as they came into the cabin.
Joe flung down his sacks of gold on the table.
“Here’s the gold—part of it, anyway!”
“And here’s the rest of it,” said Frank as he closed the door and put down his two sacks. “And here,” he said, indicating Black Pepper, “is the leader of the gang who stole it.”
“Black Pepper!” ejaculated Hank Shale, starting up.
The outlaw was silent. He eyed Frank’s revolver warily, as though even yet considering his chances of escape. But the weapon did not waver and he saw that he was trapped.
“Got a rope?” asked Frank of Hank Shale. “He must be tired keeping his hands up. We’ll tie his wrists and then march him down to the jail.”
“I’ll say I have a rope!” shouted Hank, springing up, and within a few minutes Black Pepper’s arms were firmly bound behind his back.
“But where on airth did ye find the gold?” demanded Bart Dawson, spluttering with excitement. “Tell us what happened! It’s the very gold that was stolen!” He dug his hands into the sacks and sifted the gold dust and nuggets between his fingers. “It’s all here—every bit of it! Tell us all about it, lads.”
“Take him down to jail first,” said Fenton Hardy quietly. “I’m as curious as anyone to hear what happened, but the boys can tell us when they come back. The story will keep. But don’t be long.”
“I’ll go with ye!” declared Dawson, picking up his hat and scrambling into his mackinaw coat. “This is too good to miss. I never thought I’d see the day when Black Pepper would be shoved into the calaboose!”
So, with Bart Dawson chattering excitedly by their sides, the Hardy boys left the cabin, where Fenton Hardy and Hank Shale were indulging in vain conjectures as to how the gold had been recovered and how the outlaw had been captured.
As they entered Lucky Bottom, although it was nightfall and people had long since retired indoors, the news quickly spread, by some mysterious system of telegraphy or mental telepathy, and by the time they reached the jail, husky miners and citizens were running down the street from every direction, anxious to witness the spectacle of Black Pepper being put behind the bars at last.
The sheriff was in his office and his jaw sagged with amazement when they entered.
“Here’s Black Pepper for ye!” roared Bart Dawson. “Here’s a prisoner for your jail, sheriff! Clap him in a good strong cell!”
“B‑B‑Black Pepper!” stammered the sheriff.
“This is him. And see that he don’t get loose, neither. If he does, we’ll string you up to a telygrapht pole.”
“What’s the charge?” asked the sheriff mechanically.
“There don’t need to be no charge. You know as well as I do that there’s been a reward of five hundred out for Black Pepper for the last three years. Put him in a cell, and no more of your foolish questions. If you must have a charge, put him down for stealin’ four bags of gold that never belonged to him. Charge him with vagrancy and loiterin’ and spittin’ on the sidewalk. Charge him with mayhem and assault and battery
