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!”
CHAPTER XX. THE BIG SHOT SPEAKS
FOR an instant, three men thought that they were victims of an ill-timed jest. Harry Vincent was the first to realize that he was wrong. His eyes passed from Hoxon’s gun muzzle to Cortland Laspar’s face. The evil smile that showed on the man’s lips was proof that this could be no joke.
Harry raised his arms. Vic Marquette was prompt to do the same. His eyes had followed Harry’s gaze.
Rex Brodford hesitated; then he caught a look at Laspar. Rex submitted with the others.
Hoxon and his two companions remained steady. They were unflinching with their rifles. They held steady aim. Perpetrators of a trap, henchmen of a supercrook, they were ready to kill if ordered.
Grimly, Harry Vincent realized how cleverly this had come about. Had Hoxon and his men drawn revolvers upon entering, there might have been indication that a fight was coming. Laspar had foreseen that. He had told his men to choose their rifles, giving a reason why such weapons would be needed.
The loading of the guns had lulled the intended victims. The raising of the rifles had been quite natural. In a twinkling, friends had become foemen, and the unanticipated move had rendered an armed trio helpless.
Cortland Laspar, stepping forward, was chuckling in evil satisfaction. Coldly, the crooked lumber king eyed his victims. There was no mercy in his gaze. Contempt alone was registered upon his gloating face.
Harry was thinking as he eyed Laspar. He recalled the statement that Hoxon’s men were a picked crew.
He understood what that meant. They were men in “the know;” ones whom Hoxon could bring along for crooked work.
The call to the sheriff had been a fake. Just another bit of dust kicked up by Laspar. Harry felt himself a fool. He realized that he and his companions should have suspected something wrong the moment that their trail had ended. Laspar had lulled them into false security.
Three against one, they had been in a position to overpower this man, had they known him for a fiend.
But Laspar’s surprise at their arrival had been genuine. The lumber man had played a cunning game. They had even let him send for his murder squad. Harry realized that he and his companions deserved this fate that their folly had brought them.
Laspar felt the same. His chuckle showed it. He had covered his game until the last. The time had come when he could reveal himself as the big shot in the chain of crime. His manner indicated that he enjoyed the triumph.
“BLUNDERERS!” accused Laspar, in a gloating tone. “You had the secret in your grasp. You fumbled it. You refused to accept facts that a child might easily have understood. You deserve the death that you will gain!
“The Quest Gold Mine was lost long ago. Yes — but it was not forgotten. I knew that the shaft contained gold, and wanted the opportunity to gain it. I was forced to bide my time. Then came changed conditions that offered me the chance to reap a double profit. The rising value of the gold market made me think more and more of the old Quest mine.”
Standing away from the rifles of his henchmen, Laspar paused to survey the glum faces that confronted him. The crooked magnate chuckled as he continued.
“A few years more would have meant the complete dissolving of the Quest mine corporation. The company still existed; but, even though its end was near, I could not wait to begin my harvest. So I evolved a scheme that suited me.