The Silver Tombstone

Chapter Fifteen

Danny Sage had averaged a mile a minute coming from Tombstone. He slackened his speed, however, to give Johnny and Sam the opportunity of seeing Hansonville. Only one quick glance was required, for Hansonville consisted of about a dozen tumble-down weathered shacks.

They continued through the little ghost town, picked up speed; then Danny slackened again as they neared a group of freshly-painted modern frame buildings, around which was a surprisingly new and strong steel fence, with a couple of strands of barbed wire on top. A sign over the top of one of the buildings read: HANSONVILLE MINING CORPORATION.

“The only real mine still around here,” Danny commented. “Henderson’s...”

Johnny stiffened. Since he was jammed up against Danny Sage the latter could not help but feel the sudden hardening of Johnny’s muscles. He looked sidewards. “Know Henderson?”

“You don’t mean Mike Henderson, do you?” Sam Cragg blurted out.

“Why, yes. He was a classmate of mine at State U. Smart lad. His father left him a bankrupt cattle ranch and Mike right away goes out and finds himself a bonanza silver mine... Of course he took up metallurgy and mineralogy at the University, but so did I — and I haven’t discovered any mines.”

He suddenly braked the car, skidded it to a stop at the side of the little-used road. “Well, here we are,” he exclaimed.

Johnny looked around the landscape. “Where?”

Danny Sage pointed. “Right there.”

Johnny followed the pointing finger. He saw a weather-beaten shed some fifty yards from the road, a shed under which appeared to be a well.

“The Silver Tombstone,” said Danny Sage.

He opened the door on his side and climbed out. Johnny followed, then Sam.

“Doesn’t look like a mine to me,” said Sam, voicing Johnny’s own thoughts.

Danny Sage led the way toward the shed. “She doesn’t look like much today, but she produced twelve million in her time. This hill,” pointing to the sage-covered knoll behind the shed, “is the old slag dump. You can see that they brought out a lot of ore, at one time.”

The slag dump was almost a hundred feet high and easily twice that many feet in area. The shed in front of it was merely a roof propped up on posts. In the center protruded a shaft containing a rusted, decrepit-looking winch and an elevator platform. The cable alone looked fairly new; it was well-greased.

“What’s your interest in this hole?” Danny asked as Johnny examined the premises. “I know there’s been a lot of talk about Tompkins striking a rich vein, but that’s a lot of nonsense.”

“What makes you think it is?”

“Because Tompkins hasn’t done any more work on this mine than I have.”

“Have you done any?”

Danny Sage shrugged. “I went down in it once or twice.” He frowned and looked out over the landscape. Johnny followed his gaze and saw, almost a half a mile away, the buildings of the Hansonville Mining Corporation.

“Tell me,” said Johnny, “is Henderson’s mine paying out?”

“It was in bonanza a year ago and all reports have it that they’ve found a new vein,” replied Danny Sage. “But I noticed the other day that they haven’t got as many men working there as they used to have.”

Johnny nodded thoughtfully. “Who’s Joe Cotter?”

Danny Sage turned and looked Johnny in the eye. “What do you know about Joe Cotter?”

“I’ve met him.”

Sam Cragg scowled. “If I meet him again, I’ll murder him...”

“I’ll make a bet on that,” said Danny. “Joe’s the strongest man in the state — maybe the entire Southwest.”

“How much will you bet?” Johnny asked.

“You name it.” Danny sized up Sam Cragg. After a moment he shook his head. “The build’s all right-close to the ground, but I’ve got a cousin I think could throw you two falls out of three...”

“Bring him around,” Sam challenged.

“You saw him this morning.”

“You can bring any two of those guys,” Sam growled. “And Joe Cotter, too,”

“Are you kidding?”

“My money’s on Sam,” said Johnny, “against any or all of your family — with Joe Cotter thrown in.”

Danny Sage was again looking off. A twinkle came to his eyes. “You’re lucky Joe Cotter’s away.”

There was a car coming up the road, an open convertible. Johnny watched it as it came swiftly toward them. Then he exclaimed, “Joe Cotter!”

“Yeah,” said Danny Sage. “Still want to make that bet?”

Sam Cragg promptly peeled off his coat. “This is the chance I’ve been waiting for.”

“Wait a minute,” said Johnny. “Helen Walker’s with him.”

“What of it?”

Joe Cotter pulled up his car behind that of Danny Sage. He jumped out from behind the wheel and ran around to help Helen Walker, but the latter was already out of the car.

The two came swiftly up the incline toward the Silver Tombstone. As they approached it became obvious that they had already recognized Johnny and Sam. Cotter strode ahead.

“I didn’t think you could make it here,” he exclaimed as he came up. “You’re both under arrest.”

“Ah-rr!” choked Sam, stepping forward.

Joe Cotter looked at him calmly. “The amateur strong man. Still want to tangle, eh?” He shook his head. “Sorry I can’t oblige you. This is my bailiwick...”

Sam Cragg lunged for him, but Joe Cotter stepped swiftly aside and whipped out an automatic. “I represent the law around here,” he snapped. “The California police are looking for you and I’m going to hold you for them...”

Sam Cragg faced Cotter. “Put down the roscoe,” he dared. “Put it down and we’ll see if you’re as strong as you think you are.”

“I’m strong enough to tie you into knots,” said Joe Cotter.

Johnny Fletcher was looking steadily at Helen Walker. “That was a dirty trick,” he said.

She averted her glance for a moment, then suddenly looked him squarely in the eye. “Yes — it was. I waited all evening. You could have telephoned, at least.”

Joe Cotter reached out and grabbed Johnny roughly. The latter tried to shake him off, couldn’t. He squirmed around. “Let go of me...”

Sam Cragg threw himself forward. Joe Cotter struck out at him with the automatic, but was handicapped through having hold of Johnny with his other hand. As a result he landed only a glancing blow on Sam’s shoulder. Then Sam’s thick arm swished down and cut across Cotter’s forearm. The automatic flew out of Cotter’s hand, sailed through the air and landed ten feet away. Danny Sage scooped it up.

“Now, you big slob,” Sam Cragg snarled at Joe Cotter.

“Hold it!” snapped Danny Sage.

Sam Cragg caught hold of Joe Cotter’s wrist, yanked heavily on it. Danny Sage pulled the trigger of the automatic and a bullet kicked up gravel near Sam’s feet.

Sam let go of Joe Cotter and began to whirl. “I said — hold it!” Danny Sage repeated.

“Cutting yourself a piece of cake?” Johnny Fletcher asked, thinly.

“If there’s any cake to cut — yes.” He nodded toward Helen Walker. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure...”

Johnny said: “Miss Walker, Mr. Sage. He claims your great-uncle murdered Jim Fargo.”

“I would say Mr. Sage is crazy,” Helen Walker retorted promptly.

Danny Sage smiled pleasantly. “Mr. Fletcher didn’t complete his statement. My mother’s uncle — a full-blooded Hopi Indian — saw the job.”

“I prefer to believe my great-uncle.”

Danny Sage shrugged. “It doesn’t really make any difference.”

“No,” said Johnny, “so how about putting up the gun?”

Joe Cotter said sharply: “All right, Danny — throw it over. I can handle this.”

“You usually do, but I think it’s time the Indian got back some of his. I’m in.”

“You’re in on what?” Cotter demanded.

“This,” said Danny Sage, gesturing about him.

“I didn’t think you’d be interested in the sand and gravel business.”

“If you’re interested in sand — I am.”

“I’m the law here, that’s all I’m interested in.”

“What law?” asked Johnny Fletcher. “You’re a lawyer, not a cop.”

“Among other things I’m also a deputy sheriff.”

Johnny looked at Danny Sage for confirmation. The latter nodded. “He’s Mayor of Hansonville, deputy sheriff, jailer and also owns the grocery store.”

Cotter bared his teeth. “Your number’s up, wise guy. There’s a murder rap waiting for you back in California...”

“Murder?” Danny Sage’s face showed sudden respect. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“I haven’t. A little larceny maybe, but no murder. I never even met the victim until after he was dead.” He looked thoughtfully at Danny Sage. “Didn’t it make the papers out here?”

“I haven’t been reading papers lately.” Danny Sage nodded suddenly, coming to a decision. “Murder, eh? And you think it’s only a matter of sand.” He looked at the shaft, which led down into the vitals of the earth. “Maybe Dan Tompkins hit it, after all... The mine belongs to you, Miss Walker?”

“There’s some difference of opinion about that,” said Johnny. “Jim Walker has a grandson; a no-good from the looks of him. But anyway, Miss Walker had the mine willed to her and I imagine her claim to it is the best.”

“Danny,” said Joe Cotter ominously, “for the last time — hand over that gun and cut out the nonsense. You’ve got away with a lot of things in your time, but your family can’t keep you out of trouble if you mix into this...”

“Take a walk, Joe,” Danny Sage said.

“All right,” Cotter said. He turned to Helen Walker. “Coming?”

“I’ll stay here,” Helen said promptly.

“You, too?” Cotter’s mouth twisted. “You might be making a mistake.”

“I’ll take the chance.”

Without another word, Cotter strode off, heading for his car. The little group at the mine watched him go. Cotter reached his car, headed for the far side and leaning over opened the glove compartment. He took something out and ducked down behind his car.

A second later, a gun barked and lead kicked up sand near Danny Sage. Danny returned a quick snap shot, before springing for the meager shelter of the mine shaft. The others were not much behind him.

“He had another gun!” exclaimed Danny. He dropped to one knee, took careful aim and sent another bullet toward Cotter’s car.

But Cotter’s position was a more advantageous one, his car offering ideal shelter. The range was a little far for too accurate shooting but with time enough for careful aiming, Cotter — unless he was an atrociously bad shot — should score some hits.

He wasn’t a bad shot as his next one proved. A bullet splintered wood about a half inch from Johnny’s nose. He threw himself frantically onto the elevator platform. Then he was up on his feet instantly, stepping off and reaching for the fly wheel of the gasoline engine that operated the winch. He yanked viciously on the rope starter. The engine coughed, began roaring. A bullet from Cotter’s gun clanged against the iron, ricocheted off into space.

“Get on the platform!” Johnny cried.

Danny Sage came over. “You get on — I’ll let you down a few feet, out of range...”

Sam and Helen stepped onto the platform with alacrity. Johnny hesitated a moment, then stepped on the platform, stooping. Danny Sage sent two quick shots at Joe Cotter, then reached for the winch lever.

The descent into the shaft was so swift that all three on the elevator were thrown off their feet. The platform went down into the dark shaft with frightening speed. Johnny clawed at the cable, got hold of it and braced himself. He turned up his face.

“Hey!” he yelled. “Not this far.”

Helen Walker cried out in sudden fear. But the elevator continued to plummet down into the earth. The opening above grew smaller and smaller. And after a moment or two it became a mere pinpoint of light.

Then the elevator stopped so suddenly that they were again thrown into a heap.

“Godalmighty!” choked Sam Cragg, picking himself up. “He let us drop all the way down.”

“Maybe he was hit,” said Johnny and a sudden shudder ran through him.

The blackness in the shaft was Stygian. Johnny picked himself up and reached out with a hand. It touched slimy earth. He groped about, brushed clothing that he assumed was Helen Walker’s. She was sobbing.

He reached into his pocket and found a book of paper matches. He struck one, held it for a moment until it burned bright. Then he took a step forward, off the elevator platform onto solid shale.

“There’s a shaft here,” he announced.

The match burned his finger and he dropped it. Fumbling, he struck another and noted that there were only about a half dozen in the book. He took a couple of steps into the shaft and exclaimed.

On a wooden shelf stood a half dozen carbide lamps. He picked up one, shook it and heard water slosh inside. He touched the match end to the opening, but no gas light shot into flame. He realized then that the lamp was empty of carbide. The match in his hand was burning short, too.

Just as it went out he saw a round tin canister on another shelf, stepped forward and struck a third match. As he had guessed the canister contained carbide. He heaved a sigh of relief, opened the canister and lamp and dumped carbide from the canister into the lamp. He sloshed water on it and applied a fourth match to the opening. A bright white flame shot out.

He turned and found Sam and Helen behind him. He handed Helen the lamp, fixed two more, one for himself and one for Sam.

“How do we get out, climb up the cable?” Sam asked.

Johnny stepped back to the elevator shaft, stooped and peered down under the platform. He got to his feet again and shook his head, soberly.

“This is the bottom.”

“All right,” growled Sam. “I haven’t done any rope climbing for quite awhile, but if I have too, I guess I can climb fifty feet, hand over hand.”

“Can you climb six hundred feet?” Johnny asked.

“Six hundred! We didn’t fall that far...”

“I’m afraid we did. This is the bottom of the shaft, the six hundred foot level...”

“How do you know it’s six hundred feet?”

“The book — Tombstone Days...”

Helen Walker nodded. “That’s right. But isn’t it possible that part of the shaft caved in and that we didn’t come down all the way?”

“Take a look up,” Johnny suggested. “That opening is six feet square... it looks like a pin point. All right, say it’s the five hundred foot level.”

“That doesn’t make it any easier,” said Helen. “What do you... suppose has happened up above?” Johnny shrugged expressively. “Your guess is as good as mine...”

“That damned Indian!” Sam swore suddenly. “He’s as bad as Cotter. Chewing that rattlesnake this morning should’ve warned me...”

Helen Walker gave Sam Cragg an odd look and took a step closer to Johnny. Despite the seriousness of the situation, Johnny couldn’t help chuckling.

“He hasn’t blown his top,” he assured Helen. “We were... uh... taking a short-cut across the desert this morning and came across an Indian village. They were having a snake dance — and Danny Sage was one of the dancers. He had a rattlesnake in his mouth.”

Helen shuddered.

“He was only trying to get some pictures for Life or Look,” Johnny said.

“That’s what he said,” Sam growled. “I been thinking. That was pretty neat the way he got us away from Old Bill Sage... and why’d he bring us all the way out here?”

“That’s an interesting question, Sam.” Johnny rubbed his chin with the back of his free hand. “Danny’s grandfather knew your great-uncle, Helen. And Old Bill Sage.”

“Rooster Bill!” exclaimed Helen. “I’ve heard Uncle Jim talk about him.”

“Rooster Bill?”

“Because he was always crowing.”

“He’s still crowing,” laughed Johnny. “According to him, Wyatt Earp, Curly Bill and Jim Fargo were a bunch of punks. He used to slap them around something...”

He broke off and suddenly sprang forward. But he was too late. The elevator platform, which had suddenly creaked, sprang up into the shaft. Johnny’s clutching fingers barely scraped the edge of it.

“He’s pulled it up!”

“Who?” cried Helen.

“We’ll know in a few minutes,” said Johnny.

“How?” asked Sam. “If he comes down he can’t operate the thing, can he?”

“No,” frowned Johnny. “The starter’s up above.” He muttered under his breath. “We should have stayed on the platform. Well — maybe not. Joe Cotter may have won upstairs. That wouldn’t be good for us.”

“If Danny won he’ll send the elevator down again for us, won’t he?” Helen’s voice was pregnant with hope.

“Oh, sure,” Johnny said, although he was not nearly as hopeful as was Helen. He turned and looked gloomily down the tunnel leading away from the elevator shaft. The light from the three carbide lamps showed glistening walls, but did not penetrate the tunnel for more than a few feet.

“Call me if the elevator starts down,” Johnny said.

Sam exclaimed, “Where are you going, Johnny?”

“I want to see what’s down here. I won’t go far...”

“I’ll go with you,” Helen volunteered.

“Better wait here.”

“No, I’d rather go with you.”

“I don’t like this place any more than anyone else,” growled Sam Cragg.

“All right,” said Johnny, “we’ll all go exploring. And if the elevator comes down...”

“It’ll wait for us,” said Helen.

“We hope.”