Six Men of Evil

CHAPTER I AT THE BORDER

THE torrid Mexican sun had set. The lingering rays from the distant horizon threw a faint afterglow that presaged a sweltering night. The gloom barely outlined a party of weary horsemen who were wending their slow way through patches of mesquite, heading northward.

The men were talking. Their voices were hushed as though the dimness of the arid plain held them in awe. Solitary wanderers in a deserted plain, they were temporarily traveling through a world peopled by themselves alone.

The voices faded. The horses dragged along through silence. The mounted figures were dimming in the gathering night. Then the tension broke as one of the plodders emitted a savage, growled oath.

The curse brought a coarse laugh from one of his companions. Grumbled mutterings followed from the others, with one exception. A single rider maintained his steadfast silence.

“We’ll get there before dawn,” growled the man who had cursed. “Yes — we’ll get there — and then what?”

“We’ve got our divvy,” returned one of his companions, thumping his hand upon a rough sack that lay across his horse’s back. “That’s enough, ain’t it, bo?”

“Sure,” cut in a third voice. “Every guy for himself. That’s the only way we can make a go of it.”

The dull, labored thudding of hoofs replaced the brief conversation. Then a querulous speaker cut in with a protesting opinion.

“We’re splittin’ eh?” he asked. “It’s all we can do, I reckon; but it ain’t goin’ to get us nowhere.”

“We’ve got Charley to thank for that,” added a sarcastic voice.

The words brought forth an affirmative growl from all the riders but one.

The lone man who had maintained his silence still refused to speak for himself. He was riding behind the others, now, his horse three lengths in back of them. He could hear every word that was expressed; and his companions sensed that fact.

NOW that Charley’s name had been mentioned, further sallies followed.

“He’s the brains of this outfit, Charley is,” said someone, with a laugh. “Had a way for us to make a clean-up. What have we got?”

“A few thousand apiece,” grumbled another. “That’s better than nothing.”

“Would you go through another six months for it?” came a question through the dark.

“For a few thousand?” Another laugh came with the response. “Say, bo, I wouldn’t go through a week of that misery we suffered even if we were to get the green chicquatil itself—”

“Sh-h!” A warning tone hissed beside the speaker’s ear. “Lay off that stuff! It gives me the creeps. Don’t talk about the chicquatil! Every time I shut my eyes I see that green glow! Green everywhere — green that never ends” — the man’s voice was rising to a high, nervous pitch — “green light driving me mad—”

An arm thumped through the dark and punched the speaker roughly on the back. The man’s words ended abruptly.

Subdued mumbles came from the other riders. It was evident that they, too, held a nervous dread of something that they all had witnessed. At length, one of the riders voiced the subject in an easy, reflective tone that allayed the worries of the others.

“We’re out of it,” he said. “We’ll forget it, soon. There’s nobody going to take us back to the Aztec temple. Let them keep the chicquatil there at Zeltapec. It’s theirs, and they can have it. There’s no one who could take it from them. We’ve got something out of the wreck — enough to stake us—”

“To stake us?” The question came in a high tone from the nervous man who had been silenced. “To stake us for what? We aren’t even ourselves! Do you understand me? Not even ourselves! We’re no one — no one! — and Charley’s to blame! He took us to that hell! I’d kill him if he hadn’t suffered with us!”

“Yeah, Charley got his along with the rest of us,” said another man, in philosophic tone. “He’s not feeling chipper, no more than us. Keeping mighty mum, there in back. Hasn’t had much to say since we left Zeltapec. Eh, Charley?”

The speaker glanced over his shoulder as he said the last words. He could not see the man to whom he had referred as Charley. Only the slight thud of hoofs told that there was another man riding back there in the darkness. Somehow, Charley seemed to feel himself ostracized from the companionship of these men.

“See?” questioned the one who had called back. “Charley’s got nothing to say. Afraid of us, maybe. He ought to be. He led us up into the mountains. Called himself our leader. A big shot, Charley — and now he’s afraid of us!”

The others laughed in sarcastic tones. There was malice, not mirth, in their laughter. They were unanimous in the thought that the man behind them was afraid; and their growled utterances were boding ill for the one who had once been their leader.

“Charley’s afraid of us—”

THE repeated challenge was broken by a harsh voice from the darkness. The lone rider had drawn close to the others. Now, he was thrusting his horse among them, and his silence had been broken. He was speaking in firm, even tones that commanded attention.

“I? Afraid of you?” Charley’s question came in emphatic words. “Why be fools? There are five of you, that’s all. I’ll take on ten more like you. You say I put you in wrong at Zeltapec? You lie!”

Not one of the five grumblers dared respond. Charley, coming up among them, had demonstrated his power of command. As he paused to await an answer, the only response was the swishing of the mesquite through which the plodding horses brushed.

“You made trouble for yourselves at Zeltapec,” declared the man called Charley. “I was no more to blame than any of you. We took a chance — for a big stake — and we lost. Be satisfied that you got away with your hides, and that the Aztecs let you keep the gold. That’s all.”

“I guess Charley’s right,” admitted one of the others, in a low, rueful tone. “But it’s not helping us much. It seems all right here in the dark — but wait until dawn, when we look at each other. Then it will seem as black as it did today — as it did yesterday — as it did the day before—”

“Cut it!” ordered Charley tersely. “I’ve listened to the same talk until I’m tired of it. You say I’ve been keeping quiet. That’s because I’ve been thinking. When you are ready to be quiet, I’ll have my say — and it will be something worthwhile.”

A suppressed silence was instantaneous. With a few well-spoken phrases, the former leader had regained his command. There, in the darkness, Charley’s horse took the lead, with the others clustered close beside, each man listening without an interruption.

“We’re coming close to the border, now,” stated Charley quietly. “That’s where we split — as you fellows decided. You say we’ve got to split — that if six men like us were together, we’d hit trouble just on our looks. You’re right about that. But you’re all wrong to think that this is the finish.

“We stuck together at the start, didn’t we? We thought alike; we talked alike; we acted alike — and finally — we became alike. Six of a kind is what we are. Six men — with brains” — he paused after the compliment — “and only one who knows how to use those brains!”

There was no response. The men rode on, a docile, willing group. Each seemed to lose his individuality when the leader took the fore. Now, Charley became challenging in his tone.

“What are you?” he questioned. “I’ll tell you. Five men that can fight a hundred if they follow instructions. The trouble is, you’ve weakened. You figured you could go back to the United States and pick up. You had your alibis.

“Maybe they’ve got you listed as men who scrambled across the border into Mexico — maybe they haven’t. If worst came to worst, you could say that bandits had dragged you there. But that’s all ended now, because you’re changed men — and you’re all in the same boat.

“You’ve been little crooks — little enough to get away with it. You enlisted in the army so as to hide, like I did. You didn’t like it, and when you found others of your kind, you deserted, like I did.

“I knew where there was something worthwhile getting, at Zeltapec. We went after it; we flopped; and now, with a few thousand dollars worth of gold apiece, you want to go back to where you left off.

“I want to go back, too, but not the same man as I went away. So I’m glad of what happened to me at Zeltapec — now that it’s all over. I’ve got my brains; I know the ropes; and I’m free from recognition. When I hit New York, I’ll be ready for business, and there’s nobody going to know me. That’s why I’m glad I’m different!”

Buzzed responses showed that the others understood their leader’s meaning. Then, in mollified tones, one of the listeners spoke, raising an objection in a cautious manner.

“That’s right, Charley,” said the man. “It’s good for you. You’re fixed right. But what about the rest of us — how does it help us?”

Mumbles of agreement showed that the rest shared the opinion of the speaker. It was the final challenge to the one who dominated.

CHARLEY was ready for it.

“How does it help you?” he asked. “It helps you great! I know you fellows like a book. Small-towners, all of you. You went away from home; you got in dutch; you tried to grab a big haul so you could go back and make a grand splurge in the little burgs you came from.

“You forget that you may be in wrong there. Those alibis might not hold up. Uncle Sam is none too easy on deserters. You’re not the first who skipped across the border!

“You all figured on going back home; the more you talked about it, the more you liked it. I let the idea ride until later; then those Aztecs at Zeltapec changed the whole works. Here you are — crying about the tough luck that’s hit you — and all the while, you’re passing up the opportunity that’s worth a million each!”

Excited gasps came from the riders. They caught the ring of the leader’s words. They crowded close in breathless silence, knowing that some stupendous plan was coming.

“Spring it, Charley,” came an eager voice. “Give us the lay. We’re with you. What’ll we do — stick together?”

“We will go our own ways,” declared the leader, in a low, firm tone. “Go as we had planned — each man to the place of his choice. But we shall go as men unknown. Forget your old names, and adopt new ones. You will be welcome, for each of you will have money. Forget crime; for it will be your duties to create confidence in the communities where you belong.

“As respectable citizens, you will soon be recognized. Remember that you have perfect opportunities, for you will be acquainted in your own home towns. The place of my choice is New York; there, I intend to harbor my funds, and to be guarded in my actions. I could pull jobs there now — but I intend to pass up the chance.”

“Why, Charley?” came a question.

“Because,” stated the leader, “I am going to wait for bigger opportunity. Each of you will have the time that you require. Each will plan his own course; yet all will have the same objective; and I shall figure in each climax.

“Six months — ten months — a year — time does not matter. I shall wait until each of you is ready. Then, one by one, we shall reap the harvest. We are different; yet we are the same. Each will contribute; all will share.”

“It ain’t clear to me yet, Charley,” announced a gruff-voiced rider, “but it seems like you’re gettin’ to somethin’ worthwhile. We’re to split; then each of us keeps in touch with you. I got that part straight. But how are you goin’ to come to see us — or do we go to see you?”

“No one sees another,” responded the leader emphatically. “There will be no letters between us. Each works toward his own objective. Then, when his time has arrived, he lets me know by special sign. You remember, back at Zeltapec—”

“The Aztec signs!” exclaimed a rider.

“Exactly,” declared the leader. “Make your plans; notify me when you are ready. Have the details for my arrival; then we shall proceed.”

“Proceed with what?” demanded one of the men.

The leader laughed. He rode ahead in silence; then, with carefully lowered voice, he began to speak.

Step by step, he weaved the details of the scheme that was in his mind. Not an utterance disturbed his discourse. Miles went by beneath the steady feet of the plodding horses. Still the riders listened to the words of the man who dominated them.

At last, the story was told. Words of admiration broke forth in jumbled chorus. One man had shown the way to five. All six were prepared for work that lay ahead. Terse questions sounded in the dark. To each, a reply was given by the leader.

THE glow of distant dawn was showing across the plains when the little caravan came to a halt. The border had been reached. The men were ready for their parting on American soil.

“Remember all that I have told you” — the leader’s voice was stern — “and wait until the proper plans are made. There are five of you, and each has his job. I have told you how to reach me in New York. This is the beginning. The past is forgotten.”

He paused and stared through the dim light at the outlined forms of the men who rested on their horses. Like the central figure in a group of statuary, the leader loomed and dominated.

“Each goes his way,” he declared. “Each stays in his own place. No one can know our scheme — not even—”

His voice broke off; then continued in a reminiscent tone, tinged with a gruff chuckle.

“When I make plans,” he said, “I plan big. I left New York because I was up against the only man big enough to lick me. I say a man, but he is more than that — he is The Shadow. Every crook that has tried to cross The Shadow has lost out. The pay-off has been death. We got away alive from Zeltapec. No one gets away alive from The Shadow.

“I was up against The Shadow; but I had time to get away before he spotted me. I saw what was coming; that’s why I scrammed. You fellows may think New York is big; but you’re wrong. I was afraid to go back there, with The Shadow waiting for me. That’s why I aimed for Mexico.

“But now, it’s different. I’ve got nothing to fear in New York. The Shadow can’t spot me now. I’m beyond his reach. He thinks that he can cope with crime. We’ll show him crime that he can’t touch! When we are ready, not even The Shadow can begin to suspect our crimes!”

The horizon was glowing pink. The leader stared toward the east and waved his hand in warning gesture. It was the signal for the parting. The others understood. Here, in the United States, by light of day, they were not to be seen together.

FIVE men spoke to their horses. One by one, they pulled away, each heading in a different direction. The leader alone remained. He watched the departing figures until they became tiny specks in the distance.

Now, in the glow of early morn, the one man lifted the reins of his horse. He had sent five men upon their missions. He was the sixth — alone and unperturbed. His face was visible in the rising light. That countenance was as impassive as a molded cast. Only the lips moved as their owner sat in thought.

“The Shadow!” The name was uttered in a low, slow tone. “The Shadow — the man who knows! This is a scheme he does not know; one that he can never know! Let him try to meet these crimes that will end when they begin!”

A coarse chuckle sounded from the spreading lips. The last of the six men slapped the reins upon the horse’s back. The steed moved slowly across the arid plain.

One man had schemed. He had crossed the border. He had sent others on their way. Each carried limited wealth upon his saddle; each had, somehow, gained immunity from that suspicion which spells the end of crime.

Five had gone; the sixth was choosing his own course. Yet, even now, his way was certain. In the months to come, this man would deal in crime whenever he might be summoned.

He was a man who had dealt in crime before; but now, within his scheming mind lay plans for supercrime. He was ready to defy The Shadow! This band of criminals would strike — no one knew when. But until they struck, there would not even be any suspicion.

When this crime broke forth, would The Shadow know? Could The Shadow solve this crime?