The ore train of the abandoned mine! Still loaded with its last burden of rock that had never been taken away. Rusted wheels were responding under the impetus of the great weight. Cars with bulging sides were about to sweep cleanly through the deserted shaft!
Before Stacks Lodi could cry an order to his men, the terrorized gangsters were on their feet, turning to dash along the shaft. Only one remained with Stacks. He, like the leader, had seen the only chance for safety; to leap upon the foremost car before it gathered dangerous speed.
That moment was approaching now. The rumble had become a roar. The cars were coming steadily down the slope. Stacks Lodi and his single companion rose grimly to meet them. Then came loud, bursting shots from the stack of ore atop the foremost car.
THE SHADOW was clearing the way! He wanted no riders upon his train of destruction. With the cars in motion, he had sprung aboard and come to the mound that topped the leading carrier.
Stacks Lodi staggered and fell against the side of the shaft. His companion collapsed at his feet. The crushing cars came on; when they arrived, the head of the train threw the two bodies between the tracks and the wall, crushing them to mangled forms.
Neither Stacks nor the gangster was alive to feel that fate. The Shadow’s clearing bullets had silenced them forever. Even as the train gained speed along the slope, the black-garbed figure was following another purpose. It was crawling rapidly back along the cars.
Fleeing gangsters had gained a precious lead in their dash down the slope. But the uneven footing of the trackage stayed their progress. The descending train was gathering impetus. Faster by thrice than a man could run, it hurtled down upon these maddened underlings of crime.
As the heavy cars surged toward the mid-point of the shaft, The Shadow dropped from the rear car. The only token of his presence was the sinister laugh that now echoed through the man-made cavern. The Shadow had reserved that mockery for the moment when his terrible avalanche of death would strike.
The plunging cars brooked no interference. A screaming gangster was thrown forward a dozen feet when the head of the train overtook him. He was crushed to death while the cars swept on.
Another victim came a second later — then a third. Still the train roared on, as it passed the only spot of safety between the top and the bottom of the shaft — the entrance to the natural passage that led from the mine.
A pair of mobsters cowered there — the last of Stacks Lodi’s pursuing crew. They had reached the safety point just in time. They, alone of those who had cried death to The Shadow, remained to see the death that he had delivered to his trappers.
As the train thundered onward, a gleam of light appeared from up the shaft. It signified the presence of a living being — one who had escaped the grinding death. Behind that light was The Shadow, the avenger who had loosed the train of destruction.
The light spotted the gangsters. They knew who held it. With vengeful snarls, they raised their revolvers to fire at the unseen being.
As the revolvers spoke, quick bursts of flame came from below the gleaming light. The Shadow, crouching, had drawn the mobsmen’s aim upward.
The gangsters fell while firing. They sprawled forward into the shaft, across the rails, as dead as their mangled fellows.
Quick had been that action. As The Shadow rose to stride down the slope, the roar of the hurtling cars was still in progress. The Juggernaut of doom had not yet come to its stopping place.
BELOW, other men of crime now knew the menace. Hub Rowley had been the first to hear the rumble of the cars. He had spoken tensely to his companions. They had stayed their fire to await the outcome.
Now, in the light that Headley shot up along the shaft, they could see the terrible approach. The train, surging on at terrific speed, was an irresistible menace that they could not stop.
With one accord, the three invaders turned to safety. They did not seek the corridor where Harry Vincent and Carter Boswick were located. Instead, they sprang for the cover of the opposite passage.
A flashlight glared as they leaped. With one accord, Harry and Carter fired at the fleeing men. Headley went down in the passage. The following shots would have found their marks, but for the intervention of the train, which suddenly arrived to protect the men whom it had threatened.
A mighty crash shattered the end wall of the slope. The heavy cars piled up amid a deluge of flying ore that spread in all directions. The burden of broken rock alone prevented the train from telescoping.
Twisted, battered, the cars sagged back on the rebound, and lay, a mass of wreckage, along the bottom of the mine slope.
As the continued echoes died away, Harry and Carter sprang from their pit. They had fired futilely as the cars arrived; then they had ducked to escape chunks of hurtling ore. They still had enemies with whom to deal; and they knew where the others had gone.
Grimly, they climbed over piles of rocks and reached the nearest car. Harry reached forward to fire. The burst of a revolver drove him back. Hub Rowley and Farland Tracy had chosen the same purpose.
New shots sounded amid the wreckage. Faces appeared above the car. Harry and Carter scrambled back to the pit, the only place from which they could return the fire. High up, near the ceiling of the shaft, the enemy had the protection of the upturned car that had headed the death train.
THE advantage was with the plotting villains. Their angle enabled them to fire down into the edge of the pit Harry and Carter crouched low, unable to return the shots. Hub Rowley, snarling, had crawled to one side, to gain a better shot.
A light shone from beside the battered train. Hub turned, and his gold teeth glimmered in an evil grin. He raised his revolver to fire at the menace which he knew was there. An automatic roared its greeting.
Hub Rowley swayed crazily. His loathsome smile became a sickly grimace. His revolver twirled as it fell from his fingers. His body lost its balance and plunged to the ground.
Farland Tracy saw the approaching light. With a fiendish cry, the lawyer backed from the upturned car and sought the refuge of the corridor, where Headley’s body lay half-covered with broken ore.
Firing intermittent shots, the crooked lawyer sought to prevent the approach of the dreaded being who had deprived him of his allies. His effort failed. He could not thwart The Shadow.
Backing toward the wall of the short passage, Tracy half-raised his arms as a token of surrender. He held the revolver pointing upward. The Shadow did not fire when he saw the gesture.
But Farland Tracy’s action was a ruse. He suddenly lowered his hand to fire a quick shot. His treacherous deed received a prompt penalty. The Shadow’s automatic spoke before Tracy could shoot. The bullet struck the lowering arm, as token of The Shadow’s power. The offending hand dropped the gun.
Farland Tracy, justly crippled for his foul attempt, blurted a cry of pain and staggered backward. He was ignorant of the fact that the short corridor ended in a precipitous shaft. His back never reached the wall that it sought.
The lawyer lost his footing on the brink of the pit. With a wild, screaming snarl, he threw his good arm outward, but in vain. His body toppled backward, and plunged to the jagged bottom of the hole, more than thirty feet below.
No further cry came from the blackened shaft. Farland Tracy, like the others, had gone to a deserved doom. The last fight was ended. The Shadow was the conqueror.
A long, weird laugh shivered through the gloomy corridors. It returned, a cry of ghoulish echoes. That laugh was mirthless. The Shadow’s triumph was given as a solemn knell to crime. Justice had won in the last fight!