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“We’re from over at Laspar’s,” stated Harry. “My name is Vincent. This chap is named Brodford. A friend of Laspar’s.”

“Glad to meet you,” growled the big man, extending a thick paw. “My name’s Luke Trebold. Supervisor here. This is private property, you know, and we’re not keen about having strangers come around. But since you’re friends of Laspar’s, it’s all right, I guess.”

Despite the greeting, Harry sensed that it was not all right. He had seen Trebold shift his hand to his hip, where a revolver was hanging in a holster. He noted that the other men were armed, and they looked ready to follow any order that Trebold might give.

Mention of Laspar’s name had apparently mollified the tough supervisor; but while Rex was shaking hands with Trebold, Harry discovered another reason for the disgruntled welcome. A tall, long-jawed man strolled over from the front of a shack; with an air of authority, he also came up to greet the visitors.

“I’m Sheriff Hawlings,” announced this worthy. Harry noted that he was better clad than the other men.

“Just happened to be here looking things over. I may have to put an attachment on this property, so I’m watching to see that it’s kept closed.”

“That’s right,” growled Trebold. “Give us a bad name, sheriff! Tell these folks that the Chalice mine is on the rocks.”

“They probably know it anyway!” retorted the sheriff. “If they don’t, they’ll find out. Glad to meet you, gentlemen. Friends of Cortland Laspar’s, eh? Well, that makes you friends of mine.”

“We just came over here to make friends,” said Rex to Trebold, who was glaring grouchily. “We’re not interested in the Chalice mine. I’m just as badly sunk as the fellows who have invested in this property. I have stock in the old Quest mine.”

“That’s why you’re up here?” queried Trebold.

“Yes,” replied Rex, “and I’ve taken on a tough job. Looking for that lost shaft. You’ve heard about it, haven’t you.”

“Sure have,” rejoined Trebold. “But I’ve got no idea where it’s located. We don’t go trespassing on that other property.”

Another man had come over to join the sheriff. This fellow looked like a deputy. The sheriff made no introduction. He was too interested in what Rex had said.

“LOOKS like you’ve got a tough job, all right,” observed the sheriff. “Nobody hereabouts knows anything about that Quest mine shaft.”

“Not even Old Absalom?” inquired Rex.

“That’s an idea,” responded the sheriff, suddenly. “What do you think about it, Trebold? Old Absalom’s been over here, hasn’t he?”

“Yeah,” growled Trebold, “but that old cuckoo don’t do much talking. Comes in with a little cash, grunts around about buying tobacco and bacon. Sometimes he wants to swap fish.”

“Do you ever chat with him?” asked Rex.

“You can’t,” snorted Trebold. “He talks sign language, that guy! He hasn’t been around here for a week. Sticks close to his island when the fishing is good. And he’s got plenty of tobacco. We loaded him up with a lot of plug when he was here.”

“Old Absalom lives on an island, you know,” began the sheriff. “It’s down at the other end of the lake.”

“And it’s a good place to stay away from,” put in Trebold. “They say he shot a couple of guys who went down there. I’ve told my men to stay away from there.”

“He did kill a man once, I believe,” admitted the sheriff. “Some years ago, before I was hereabouts. Of course it’s his property—”

“And if any of my men went there,” interrupted Trebold, savagely, “and Old Absalom loaded them with lead, you couldn’t do a thing about it, could you, sheriff?”

“Not if they knew they were supposed to stay away from there,” replied Hawlings. “Old Absalom has his signs up. He lives alone, and they say he has money in his cabin. He has a right to protect it.”

“If somebody blundered in there by mistake, there might be a case against Old Absalom if he made trouble. But if you or your men went there, knowing the situation as you do, I’d have to stick up for the hermit if he made trouble.”

“Does that apply to Vincent and myself?” queried Rex.

“It does,” acknowledged the sheriff. “From now on. You know the island is taboo. We’ve just told you.”

“Then if we went to see Old Absalom—”

“You’d better hail him while he’s out fishing on the lake, or catch him when he’s here or at the lumber camp.”

Conversation lulled. Rex turned to Harry.

“Well,” decided Rex, “I guess we’d better be on our way. Glad to have met you, Mr. Trebold; and you also, sheriff. Thanks for the information.”

Rex turned about and clicked the electric lantern. He swung it toward the path; as he did, Harry noted an odd blackness between two trees. It seemed as though the light was blocked by some solid obstacle.

Then the lantern, swinging, reached the path. The odd sight was ended. Harry alone had spotted it. He was thinking of that blackness as he and Rex made their way back toward the dock.

Only a fleeting glimpse of solid inkiness.

Yet that token was significant to Harry Vincent. It told him that although he and Rex Brodford were departing, The Shadow was present and remaining by the Chalice mine.

CHAPTER X. THE TRAIL BELOW

THE visit of Rex Brodford and Harry Vincent had produced only a temporary ripple in the monotony that surrounded the Chalice mine camp. Luke Trebold grumbled something about the dumbness of the visitors. Evidently he thought that they were fools to institute a search for the old Quest mine.

The sheriff added a few remarks, recalling stories from the past, regarding the days when the Quest mine had been in operation. Then he also dropped the conversation. He motioned to the deputy, to indicate that they were leaving.

“We’re heading back to town,” the sheriff told Trebold, “and if we don’t crack up our car on that bum road of yours, we’ll be lucky!”

“Don’t blame me for the road,” grumbled Trebold. “I didn’t build it. Maybe we’ll have a new one, some day, if those smart promoters can dig up some new dough to run this works of ours.”

“Still selling stock in the Chalice mine, are they?”

“Trying to, I understand. But they wouldn’t dish any to me, even as a gift!”

The sheriff laughed.

“I guess you figure this mine is a has-been, too,” he said. “Well, Trebold, you should worry, so long as they keep up the pay roll. Only remember this: I’m not going to be the goat if anybody springs an attachment on this mine property. That’s why I’ve come over here in advance.

“Like that old hunting lodge that Laspar bought. When the gunning club that owned it began to look rocky, I warned them not to start sneaking stuff away. They didn’t. And the same thing applies here.”

“Yeah?” Trebold spoke with challenge. “Well, don’t get too previous, sheriff. Your duty don’t come until later. After you do plank on the attachments.”

“I’m waiting, Trebold. But there’s such a thing, you know, as people evading a law. It don’t go in this county. People can’t make false statements to the law—”

“Who’s made false statements?”

“Nobody, yet — so far as facts show; but—”

“I’ve told you, sheriff; that this mine shaft is locked up. That it’s not going to be opened for the purpose of removing equipment. I’m keeping it locked, except in case of emergency.”

“And you’ll report to me—”

“If I get orders to open the shaft, I will. And if I have to go in there for any reason, I’ll tell you all about it. This mine is closed until further notice.”

“That’s all I want to know.” The sheriff turned to the deputy. “Heard it, did you, Hank? Well — it goes on record.”