As Old Absalom stepped into the shack, hands forward, Rex decided upon quick action. Leaping to meet the advancing hermit, the young man swung the spade and started a fierce stroke to beat down the bearded man.
Rex made a swift spring, calculating that the recluse would dodge. It was that belief that proved his undoing. For Old Absalom acted in a manner that was both swift and effective. Instead of diving backward toward the door, the hermit leaped forward with surprising agility, coming in under the sweeping blade of the spade.
It was the handle, not the spade edge, that staggered the bearded man. The blow missed Absalom’s head, thanks to a shift that the hermit made. It was Old Absalom’s shoulder that took the stroke; and though the force spun him about, it did not cripple him.
Before Rex could recoil from the blow he himself had delivered, Old Absalom made a new pounce forward. The hermit’s big hands found the young man’s throat. With a swift surge, Old Absalom hurled his quarry back into the corner.
Rex’s head struck the wall. The young man slumped. The spade clattered useless to the floor. Panting as he stood above his half-stunned foe, Old Absalom grinned in triumph. Picking up the rope that lay upon the cot, he began to bind his enemy to prevent further battle.
Swift seconds had brought a startling turn of affairs. Rex Brodford, elated by the discovery of the lost mine shaft, was now a prisoner. He was in the hands of Old Absalom, the man who had been hired to slay him!
CHAPTER XIII. THWARTED RESCUE
UP on the slope, Harry Vincent had paused with his pickax. He had cleared an opening of sufficient size.
That done, he was wondering why Rex Brodford had not returned.
There had been ample time for Rex to get down to the shack and back. Rex had started in a hurry; Harry had expected him to continue the pace. Amid the darkness, Harry stared for some sign of Rex’s lantern.
He saw none.
Harry was trained to scent trouble quickly. When doubt seized him, he acted. Dropping his pick, he started down the path that his companion had taken. Rocks clattered under his hasty stride.
Rounding a clump of bushes, Harry caught a slanted view of the shack door. He saw a swaying glimmer.
Evidently Rex had hung the lantern on a hook; there were several in the shack. But why was he delaying?
The time interval had been a short one. Though puzzled, Harry did not feel that an actual menace existed.
Hence he did not draw his gun as he hurried to the shack. He was totally unprepared for what he saw when he arrived at the opened door.
Crossing the threshold, Harry spied Rex sprawled upon the floor in the far corner. Bending above him was a stoop-shouldered man. Both were beneath the glare of the lantern that now was hanging from the wall. Harry could see that Rex was bound with rope.
As Harry’s footsteps stopped, the stooping man leaped up. There, in the circle of light, Harry saw the bearded visage of Old Absalom. To the hermit, Harry was a figure just beyond the range of light.
A vengeful cry escaped Harry’s lips, The Shadow’s agent stopped short, ready to pull his gun. Old Absalom came twisting with a wild fling. Instinctively, Harry leaped to ward off the attack.
They locked. Harry’s fingers caught the hermit’s throat. Gargling, Old Absalom tried to splutter words.
The attempt only made Harry tighten his clutch. The bearded man fought wildly. As they staggered close beside the gleaming lantern, Harry saw lips moving in the light.
The hermit’s eyes were half closed. They did not see Harry’s face. The man was struggling for life, and Harry’s grip was strong. But as they lunged toward the wall, a break came in the hermit’s favor.
The locked fighters blundered against a cot. Harry lost his footing. He stumbled; his hands yielded. Old Absalom wrested free. Again the man tried to cry out; but his voice was no more than a hoarse gasp.
Harry pounced hard to bear the fellow down. The hermit met him with an unexpected uppercut; one that showed Old Absalom to be no mean fighter with his fists. The pugilistic effort staggered Harry.
In a trice, Old Absalom had the advantage. It was he who caught Harry in a vicious grip.
Harry fought back. Odds against him, he reeled toward the door, dragging the fighting hermit with him.
Old Absalom swung him against the wall, to deliver a blow like the one that had felled Rex Brodford. But Harry resisted; a twist of his head spoiled the hermit’s attempt.
Harry shoved a fist into the bearded face. Knuckles cracked hard against the matted protection of Old Absalom’s chin. The hermit rocked; then caught at Harry’s hand. Struggling in darkness, they fought equally.
BACK and forth, from wall to wall, the combat continued. The shack clattered with the noise of the strife. The swaying bodies thumped the thin board walls with terrific force. Then Harry made a valiant effort to end the fray.
Throwing out a foot; he tripped the hermit. Old Absalom, falling, increased his clutch. They rolled across the floor. Harry wrestled free. He was willing to give this enemy a temporary triumph if it would bring the break he wanted.
As the hermit plunged after him, Harry came to hands and knees. He dodged, clutched the wall and came to his feet. Old Absalom was doing the same. Harry could see the fierce face in the light, although he himself was out of the range of illumination.
Diving away as the hermit came plunging in bull-like fashion, Harry started for the door of the shack. Old Absalom leaped in front to block the move. Twisting, Harry swung back in. Old Absalom turned about and lunged after him.
Again, Harry reversed tactics. He dived toward the door, dropping wide as he did. His leg clipped the hermit’s shins. Old Absalom kept onward, headlong, rolling clear to the corner where Rex lay bound.
Instead of trying to pounce after the fellow, Harry came up in the opposite direction, twisting about as he headed toward the door. Hence the hermit, also coming to his feet, was distant by the full length of the shack.
Old Absalom was groggy, but still determined. He launched himself forward for a tremendous leap, anxious to grapple again. He swayed momentarily before starting forward. It was nerve alone that was holding him together.
Panting, Harry yanked his automatic from his pocket. Though he felt pity for this deluded foe, he could see but one course open. Like Rex, he had begun a vicious attack, knowing that Old Absalom had taken murder money.
Harry’s thought was that Rex’s life, like his own, depended upon the coming deed. He must drop the hermit with a single shot; for Old Absalom, like a ferocious bear, would fight more venomously if merely wounded.
The hermit’s forward plunge was starting. Harry’s finger was steady on the trigger. But no shot left the automatic. Before Harry could fire, a new attack came from another quarter.
A form whirled inward from the opened door. It plunged upon Harry Vincent with the speed of an avalanche. Powerful arms sent Harry headlong toward the floor. A viselike fist plucked the automatic from his clutch.
Sprawling, Harry came up, half facing his antagonist. In one brief instant, he saw the attacker who had downed him. A figure in black, with burning eyes beneath the brim of a slouch hat. A cloaked fighter who had acted with the swiftness of a cyclone.
A strange laugh came from hidden lips. Mirthful, taunting peals gave enigmatic mockery.
As Harry swayed, bewildered, another form came plunging on him. Old Absalom, at last in action, had found his quarry.
HARRY dropped back upon the floor. His head took a thump. He felt the hermit’s fists against his face.
With a gasp, Harry sank exhausted. That swift blow from the doorway; this final thump from Absalom — the two strokes had combined to eliminate him from the fight.