The Golden Quest

CHAPTER XIX. RIFLES TAKE CONTROL

HARRY VINCENT and his two companions were on their feet when footsteps sounded from Laspar’s verandah. Though they felt positive that these were the lumber magnate’s men, they wanted to be sure that they were right. Grimly, they placed hands to gun handles.

Cortland Laspar stepped into view at the same moment. He had evidently completed his telephone call; he had heard the arrival of the automobiles. Coming through from the rear of the lodge, he was the first to spy the men beyond the screen door of the verandah.

“Hoxon!” exclaimed Laspar, in elation. “Good work! We’ve been waiting anxiously. Come in at once.”

Hoxon stepped through the door. The superintendent was a brawny fellow, clad in khaki and wearing leather puttees. Others followed him, a squad of four, all attired in similar fashion. Every man was a husky. Revolvers showed in hipped holsters.

“What’s up, Mr. Laspar?” inquired Hoxon, eyeing Harry and Rex, then Vic Marquette. “You told me you expected trouble.”

“Not from these gentlemen,” chuckled Laspar. “They are friends: Rex Brodford, Harry Vincent, and—”

“Old Absalom,” put in Hoxon.

“No,” laughed Laspar, “you’re wrong there, Hoxon. This man is Mr. Marquette, of the Secret Service. Old Absalom’s substitute.”

“Whiskers and all,” growled Vic, “and I’ll be glad when I can take a shave. That will be mighty quick, too. I don’t need this shrubbery any longer, now that the Chalice mine has been proven phony.”

Hoxon looked puzzled. Laspar gave him a brief explanation. Hoxon nodded, and his four men did the same.

“Now I know why you wanted a picked crew,” stated the leader from the lumber camp. “Well, I brought along the four men that we can count on in a job like this. What’s the next step, Mr. Laspar?”

“To guard this lodge,” replied the lumber magnate. “There is still a possibility of an attack from the cellar, but it seems more likely that the trouble will come from outside. Therefore, I intend to post you and your men about the grounds.”

“While we stay inside?” asked Rex.

“Yes,” stated Laspar. “After all, this is my property. I am responsible for your protection. With four of us in here, guarded by a ring of competent sentinels, we can concentrate our own efforts on any inside attack.”

“If a large force comes through by the tunnel, we can call in Hoxon and his men. That suits you, Hoxon?”

The superintendent nodded.

“The longer the range, the better the fight,” decided Laspar. He pointed to the rifle rack in the corner.

“There are half a dozen Winchesters there, Hoxon. The ammunition is in the case beyond. Pick your weapons and load up.”

HOXON strode across the room. His men followed. They chose rifles, brought out the ammunition and began to load.

Harry Vincent looked toward Vic Marquette, who nodded in approval. This was the correct form of defense. Cortland Laspar had evidenced real traces of generalship.

Five men, well posted outside the lodge, would be ample protection against an attack upon the point.

The use of rifles meant that Hoxon and his four woodsmen would gain the range on crooks who came with revolvers.

Moreover, Hoxon’s squad would have their small-arms ready for closer work. Should the enemy come en masse, they could retreat, firing, into the lodge while those inside covered them with a barrage from the windows.

An attack from the cellar could easily be repulsed. Invaders would have to hammer at the sheathed door.

It would be a simple matter to determine the size of such a force. If small, Harry, Vic and Rex could handle the fray; if large, Hoxon and the outside guards could come in to aid.

Harry and Vic were thinking alike. Both were recalling that Laspar had just put in a telephone call to the sheriff. A posse would soon be heading for the entrance to the Chalice mine; additional men would start for the shack on the hillside. If crooks attacked the lodge, the sheriffs men would hear the sound of battle and would come in from the rear, while those at the lodge were repelling the onslaught.

But in this chain of thought, Harry was puzzling. He wondered what had become of The Shadow. He knew that his chief had been very much in evidence at the time of the mistaken fray in the shack. It was not The Shadow’s policy to drift away while a climax still was pending.

Harry’s brows knitted in a troubled frown. Had The Shadow remained too close to the shack? Had he encountered danger from Jubal’s band. The thought was maddening, and Harry could not reject it.

Despite his confidence in his invisible chief, Harry knew The Shadow’s penchant for danger. He realized that The Shadow would have used every effort to prevent Jubal and Firth from discovering the opened shaft of the Quest mine.

There had been shots outside that shaft. Then shots from within. Bullets directed toward Harry and his companions. Summing up that evidence, Harry found himself faced by a terrible conclusion.

He pictured The Shadow wounded perhaps dead near the little shack. Victim of a valiant effort to stay an attacking horde. Harry could think of no other way in which to account for the fact that driving shots had come down the mine shaft.

An impulse seized The Shadow’s agent. Harry wanted to dash forth into the night; to seize a boat and start for the shore across the lake. Even though he might be forced to go alone, he was ready to defy all odds in search for The Shadow.

Then Harry groaned. He realized that he must remain here. There would be no way to explain his hasty action without revealing The Shadow’s part in the game. That would be definitely against The Shadow’s wish, for the cloaked chief had delegated Harry to discover the lost Quest mine.

To start forth without an explanation would also be a hopeless course. The others would take Harry’s action for flight. They would believe him guilty of cowardice. Grimly, Harry set his lips. He could only hope that The Shadow had escaped.

“Worried, Harry?”

The question came from Rex Brodford. It brought Harry back with a jolt. The Shadow’s agent laughed slightly.

“Not much, Rex,” he returned. He looked toward the corner. “I’m only wondering how soon these lumber men are going to get on their job. They have a tough duty ahead.”

“They’ve finished loading,” commented Rex.

As Rex spoke, Hoxon and his followers turned from the corner. Carrying their rifles under crooked arms, they strolled over toward the front door. Laspar was standing there. Harry, Vic, and Rex were in the center of the living room.

“All ready, Hoxon?” queried the lumber magnate, brusquely.

“Just about,” returned the superintendent raising his rile and squinting along the barrel. Two woodsmen did the same. “All ready, Mr. Laspar. Just waiting for you to say the word.”

“Then cover!” snapped Laspar.

Three rifles swung. One aimed straight for Rex Brodford; the second for Harry Vincent; the third was trained on Vic Marquette.

As the three men gaped at the looming rifles, Cortland Laspar issued a sneer.

“Put up your hands!” rasped the lumber magnate. “Make it quick, the three of you! One move by anyone means death for all!”