The Lone Ranger and Tonto (16 page)

The riders halted about fifty yards away at a signal from the Sheriff. Dave's heart dropped. He was discovered at last, and by eight grim and relentless manhunters! Dave watched the scene, dismayed. He saw the Sheriff's men draw their carbines from the saddle boots, and the late sun glinted from the grim barrels. There was a short conference among the men, and then they spread out fanwise in a semicircle around the place where Dave was waiting. They must have known that he was there. How could they know it? Had the Lone Ranger been captured and compelled to betray Dave Walters? That was incredible. Dave felt that the masked man would have died before divulging the hide-out. What was Dave to do? There seemed but one answer. He must defend himself and the Lone Ranger's property. Shoot it out with these manhunters. Kill them, all of them if need be, but they must not learn the secret of the cave.

Dave scurried back inside and picked up the gun he had taken from Eph Summers, the guard in the jail. He found another rifle but could not find ammunition for it. Dave did not know that Tonto had concealed the cartridges to match the rifles, and left only cartridges that would not be usable in any of the weapons at hand. But Dave still had Eph Summers's gun and the gun held six bullets. He would make the most of these, he decided, then rush the men to meet them hand to hand. The least he could do was to go down fighting.

Dave returned to his place on the slab of rock and watched. He saw the sun glint from the Sheriff's badge, and steadied Eph's gunsight on the metal. Then he heard a shout from the lawman. "Come out with your hands up, or we'll come an' take you." Dave responded by squeezing the trigger. But to his consternation, the hammer fell with a metallic click.

Once more Dave Walters fired, and again the hammer fell with a click but no explosion. He almost sobbed in despair. Hurriedly he "broke" the six-gun and saw that the chambers in the cylinder were empty. Once more he raced for the cave and nervously pawed through the supply of ammunition. There was plenty of it, but none to fit the gun of the prison guard.

Meanwhile, the lawmen were advancing, moving from rock to rock, taking full advantage of each natural barricade for a moment, then making a dash for the next one nearer the cave. So far not a shot had been fired.

Dave decided on a desperate measure. He wanted above all to protect the Lone Ranger's secret. He leaped suddenly forward, into full view of the men, with the six-gun in his hand held leveled at the Sheriff. "Don't you come any nearer," he yelled at the top of his voice. "If you do, I'll open fire on the Sheriff."

Dave did not think it odd that no one fired on him. He did not know that the Lone Ranger, posing as Steve Delaney, had ordered the Sheriff to bring Dave Walters in alive. He thought it was fear of what he might do that caused those men to hold their fire.

"I'll surrender," he shouted, "I'll surrender to you but don't come nearer if you want the Sheriff to live."

"Come 'long, Dave Walters," the Sheriff cried. "You're showin' the first sign of good sense since we first picked you up. Throw down that gun an' walk to me with yer hands above yer shoulders."

Dave walked slowly forward but retained the gun. "I'm holdin' the gun on you," he replied in a shout, "but I'm willin' to give myself up on one condition."

"What's that condition?"

"That you start right back for Snake River."

The Sheriff laughed. "That's one thing we're downright anxious to do," he replied. The other deputies abandoned their rocks and closed in. In a moment Dave Walters found himself surrounded by the lawmen. The Sheriff disarmed him, and Eph cried, "Lemme see that shootin' iron. That looks like my property."

"Take it," said the Sheriff, handing it over.

"If it had been loaded," muttered Dave, "you wouldn't have got me without some loss of life, but a man can't do much with an empty gun."

Eph examined the weapon and then looked with a trace of admiration at the lean face of Dave Walters, but he made no comment.

There was a little suspicion in the Sheriff's voice when he said, "You was doggone eager to surrender yerself."

"What else could I do?"

"I dunno," the lawman replied, "but I reckon you must've heard that Steve Delaney gave us strict orders that we wasn't to harm you."

"Delaney did that?" asked the surprised Dave.

"He did. Otherwise, we'd have welcomed the chance to shoot it out with you."

"But-but I thought," faltered Dave, "he was the one that tried to get me lynched last night."

"I wouldn't know about that," fibbed the Sheriff.

"And he was the one," Dave went on, "who had me picked up and charged with murder in the first place. It doesn't seem natural for him to want me brought back to town alive, unless he wants the personal pleasure of killing me."

At the Sheriff's command, Dave mounted the horse the lawmen had brought along for him to ride. Before he started, he sought the answer to a question which was foremost in his mind. "How did you know where I was?"

"Delaney told us," replied the Sheriff shortly. "Now start ridin'."

That answered nothing so far as Dave was concerned. The mystery remained. How did Steve Delaney know where the hiding place was? If that gambler who had lied Dave into a murder charge knew where the Lone Ranger's secret cave was located, what would he do to the Lone Ranger? Dave, even though he was recaptured by the law, felt more worried now than ever before. It was not his own life that he worried about. It was a life far more important—
the life of the Lone Ranger
.

John Langford was by far the more composed as he sat in the woodshed with Higgy despite the fact that Higgy held a heavy gun in his hairy hand and took the initiative in their talk. Langford's aristocratic face held a slight trace of amusement, which Higgy resented, yet the apelike man could find nothing to complain about in the aged gentleman's manner. Langford's only apprehension was that his wife might overhear the conversation and be worried.

Higgy settled himself on an upended log of firewood and studied John Langford for several minutes before he spoke. "You've been payin' cash money over to Steve Delaney, ain't yuh?" he demanded.

If Langford was surprised by the statement he showed no sign of it in his thin face. "How do you know that?" he asked meeting Higgy's gaze squarely.

"Neva mine how I know! The main thing is that I
do
know."

"Then why are you asking me?"

"Because I want tuh know just how much you paid him."

"Is he a friend of yours?"

"What's the difference?"

"I simply asked."

"Well," hesitated Higgy, "he is sort of a friend of mine."

"If you want to know how much I paid him, granting that I have paid him any money, why don't you ask him?"

"He wouldn't tell me," replied Higgy.

"If he wouldn't tell you, he probably doesn't want you to know. In that case, he wouldn't want me to tell you. So I think it will be best if I have nothing to say about it."

"But doggone it," growled Higgy, "you got tuh tell me. That's why I brought yuh here."

"What will you do if I refuse to tell you?" asked John Langford. When Higgy didn't reply he added, "Will you shoot me for refusing to give you the information?"

"Well, yes, dad rat it, Langford, I will shoot yuh if yuh don't tell. I aim tuh git that information fer personal reasons, an' I'll git it or know the reason why."

Langford's face became more serious. "Please keep your voice lower," he cautioned. "I don't want my wife to hear us talking. She's very nervous and anything that might upset her is to be avoided."

"Talk or I'll shoot!" said Higgy in a bullying voice.

"One moment," replied the white-haired man. "You say you will shoot me if I don't
tell
you how much I have paid Steve Delaney. You don't know how much I have paid him, so you won't know whether I'm telling you the truth or not. Isn't that true?"

Higgy agreed that it might be true. "Very well then, I can tell you anything, and you'd have to take my word for it. You'd know that I told you the figure simply to save my life, and you couldn't possibly know that it was the right figure."

This was quite a complicated bit of reasoning for the slow-witted Higgy to follow. "Wait," he said to Langford. He mulled it over in his mind for a moment, squinting his eyes and wrinkling his brow in the process of concentrated thought. His face darkened when he finally realized that what John Langford said was true.

"So you see," Langford said, "this is all rather foolish. Now why don't you take that gun and ask Steve Delaney for the information you want?"

"I guess," growled Higgy, "that's what I should o' done in the first place. I would o' done that, if I hadn't happened tuh meet up with you."

That accidental meeting almost ruined the carefully made plans of the Lone Ranger. He still waited for Higgy to come demanding a showdown with the gambler whom he thought had double-crossed him.

Higgy rose from his uncomfortable seat and jammed his gun into his holster as he prepared to leave. With his hand on the door, he turned back to John Langford. "Look here, Langford," he said, "you don't know who I am."

John Langford shook his head. "I don't care much," he said.

"You had a son when you was in New Orleans," Higgy moved away from the door and closer to John Langford as he saw the wrinkled face light up with interest. "You ain't seen that boy fer a good many years, have you?"

Langford rose to his feet and shot out a blue-veined hand. He grabbed at Higgy's shirt despite the threat of the stockily built man's gun. His voice trembled with emotion when he spoke. "What do you know about my son? Tell me! Tell me what you know about him!"

"N-now wait a second," replied Higgy somewhat taken aback at the reaction to his words.

"Wait, wait," said Langford, "I've been waiting for years. Tell me."

"I-I will, but doggone it, leggo my shirt."

Langford dropped his hand. Higgy said, "Yer kid robbed a bank where he worked an' he wrote a letter confessin' the crime."

"Where is the letter?" asked Langford hoarsely. "Where is it now?"

"It's in a safe place," replied Higgy. "Yer kid was kilt an' left that letter fer you. But you didn't git it. Instead someone else got it an' they threatened tuh show it tuh yore wife, if yuh didn't pay 'em tuh keep 'em quiet. Ain't that so?"

"Yes, it is true," said Langford. "Steve Delaney is the man I have been paying. He keeps promising to give me back the letter, but he never keeps his word. I don't know who you are or how you learned about the letter, but what you have said is true. My wife has been ill for years. We lost what we had in the East and all she has now are memories, happy memories of her son, our son."

Langford sighed deeply, and reseated himself on the log. Higgy felt uneasy and showed it in the way he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. But he waited for John Langford to proceed.

"When we got word that David had died, I lied to her. I tried to make the blow bearable by telling her that he had died heroically, to save the life of another man. She was proud of him, proud of David because she never knew the truth about him. Now she still holds to the belief that her son was fine and good. It would kill her, if she learned the truth."

It might be said to Higgy's credit that he felt guilty and somewhat ashamed as he listened to Langford's pathetic story. Langford went on.

"This man Delaney came to me with a copy of my son's confession. It wasn't the original, nothing but a copy, but I knew that it was true, every word of it. I learned in the East that David had stolen money, and I paid it back for him. This man didn't know that. I tried to buy the original letter from him, as he thought I wanted it to keep my son from jail. But I knew David was dead. I simply wanted to get hold of it so the fiend couldn't show it to my wife. The blow…" Langford paused, lowering his voice as he thought about the frail little white-haired lady in the house. "Now I have given Delaney everything. There is nothing more, not even jewelry. I don't know what he will do."

"Yuh moved around considerable, didn't yuh?" said Higgy.

Langford nodded. "We did, but Delaney followed us wherever we went."

"Yuh mean tuh say yuh gave him jewelry as well as cash?"

"I had to. We ran out of cash. Martha, my wife, thought I was selling the jewelry. The truth of the matter was that Steve Delaney got it."

Higgy nodded. He already knew most of what John Langford had told him, but he hadn't been told by Delaney that jewelry as well as cash had been handed over by the man from New Orleans.

"When was the last time you gave him anything?" said Higgy.

"Last night. He kept demanding more and more, and finally last night I gave him the last treasure my wife had. It was a necklace that was given to her years ago by my mother. A necklace that had been in the family for a good many generations."

Higgy showed genuine interest in that statement. "You gave it to him last night?" he repeated. Langford nodded. "But wasn't there a robbery last night?"

"No, I arranged with this gambler to make everyone think there was a robbery. Martha would have preferred starvation to parting with the necklace. I couldn't have told her I sold it. I had to make her think that someone robbed me."

"Wal, I'll be hanged," said Higgy fervently. "So there wasn't a robbery at all."

Langford shook his head. "It just happened that there was a manhunt for the killer of a woman named Mrs. Prindle going on, and there were a lot of strangers in town. Some one of these rode away from near my home and he was mistaken for the thief."

"But there wasn't a real robbery?"

"No."

"Yer dead sure Steve Delaney got that necklace yuh mentioned?"

Langford nodded, and Higgy muttered beneath his breath. "How much d'you figger yuh paid him all told, in cash an' jewelry?" he asked.

"There must have been over ten thousand dollars worth of jewelry and several thousand dollars in cash. I might as well tell you that now, as long as I have told you everything else."