“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.