CHAPTER XXIII

THE DEAF MUTE

Within the silence of the dark cave, where, for days, Cora Ardell had been kept a prisoner, a secret conference was held. All the talk was in whispers, for Ike and Jim declared that they did not know enough about the cavern to insure that a listener might not be hidden in some recess.

It was even suggested that perhaps the Mexican whom Nat had shot twice might have sneaked back in an endeavor to get revenge, or, failing in this, to learn something of the plans of his enemies.

"We can't be too careful," whispered Nat, and so the low talk went on.

Following this conference, Ike hurried from the cave and went to a Mexican farmer whom he knew and purchased food with Nat's money, for the sleuth had come over the line well supplied financially. Cora, after the nerve-racking ordeal of being a prisoner had ended, became herself, and told much that she had overheard while bound in the cave.

That the cave was one of the headquarters of the dreaded Tola gang was well established, and it was only by chance that the two cowboys had not encountered the ruthless El Capitan Martolo, Don Castro and their followers on the visits Ike and Jim had paid to the cavern.

"Well, then," remarked Nat Ridley, one afternoon, about two days after the shooting of the double dagger from the hand of the Mexican who would have stabbed Slim Jim, "I'll leave you three for a while. Take good care of Miss Ardell," he warned the cowboys.

"We will," promised Ike.

"I'm not worrying a bit," the girl said.

"And we'll be on the lookout to join you," added Jim.

They watched the detective ride down the trail and out of sight.

While the cowboys were carrying out their promise to guard Cora Ardell carefully, quite a different scene was taking place in the Mexican village of Paz, some miles from Rolamotaza.

In a Mexican saloon, combined with which was a gambling joint, seated around a table in a rear room were El Capitan, Don Juan Castro, Valdez and a number of the other members of the secret society known as the Tola--an offshoot of some of the terrible organizations of the Aztec days. The talk was all in Spanish.

"It seems then," remarked the big El Capitan, "that our men did not get the American detective pig?"

"He escaped, to our sorrow," remarked Don Castro, who was telling the story.

"How?" snapped El Capitan.

"He and his cowboy companions abandoned their horses and lowered themselves over a cliff. We could not follow."

"How was that? Why not?" demanded El Capitan, his eyes blazing.

Don Castro shrugged his shoulders and waved his hands expressively as he replied:

"They pulled the ropes away so we could not slide down."

"Imbeciles!" snarled El Capitan. "Why did you not have ropes?"

"It was a mistake not to," admitted the leader of the baffled pursuers. "But we had none. However, we still have the girl in the dark cave, and it will be strange if she can hold out much longer. If she signs the papers, giving us back the oil wells, we can snap our fingers at this dog and pig of a Gringo detective."

"Perhaps," said El Capitan. "But he is very clever. Out of my pocket from under my nose he took letters--letters that say too much. Tell me," he went on with a change of manner. "Have you tortured the girl yet?"

"No, El Capitan," answered the other. "We did not know you wanted to go to that length."

"Go to any length! Do anything to get her to sign those papers. It is my order. Use hot irons if necessary. Now go and don't come back without the papers! Are you sure you have the girl safe?"

"Positive, El Capitan."

"That is good. We shall yet laugh at this pig of a Gringo."

El Capitan chuckled and ordered another drink, and while he was pouring it down his throat a waiter glided to his side and whispered in his ear.

"So?" exclaimed the Tola leader. "One of our band from the mountains to join us? Who is he? Does he bear the symbol?"

"He gave me this," and the waiter held out a card on which was drawn the device of a double dagger.

"That is good, but it is not enough. He should have the weapon itself, either in miniature or the large one. But I will see him. Don Castro, your attention here before you go to the cave on your mission," and El Capitan beckoned to his lieutenant.

"Yes, El Capitan," submissively responded the other. "What is it?"

"One of our band--or at least one so claiming--waits outside. He sends in his card. He is from the mountains it seems. He may be Pedro from the cave."

"If he is, it means that something has happened!" cried Don Castro, starting. His manner was alarming.

"You mean the girl has escaped?" hissed El Capitan.

"It is possible."

"If she has, you imbecile, I will hold you responsible!" stormed the leader. "But let us see! Have in this member from the mountains. He sends the proper card but he must have the dagger itself. Let him come in," he ordered the waiter.

A moment later an aged Mexican entered the meeting room of the Tola gang. White was his hair, bent was his back and he walked with a staff. He bowed humbly as he advanced and seemed eager to please as he stood before El Capitan.

"Who are you and what do you want?" snapped out the leader.

The old man appeared not to hear, and something in his manner caused El Capitan to exclaim:

"We are betrayed! This is a spy! Speak!" he cried, slipping his hand into his coat as if seeking a weapon.

"Pardon, señor, I forgot to mention that he is a deaf mute," said the waiter. "He had to write out on a card that he wanted to see you, and I had to write that I would take him your message and the symbol, which I did. He can neither hear nor speak."

"Fool, why did you not say so at first?" snarled El Capitan. "I had nearly put a bullet through him, and that would have been sad if he is really one of us. Look you," he went on to the stranger who stood meekly before him, "why do you come? What do you want?"

"You forget, El Capitan," said Don Castro, gently, "that he cannot hear you."

"True enough," grumbled the head of the gang. "Give me paper and pencil!"

"Make sure that he is one of us," suggested Don Castro.

"Am I not doing that?" testily inquired his chief.

He wrote something on a card which the deaf mute read, though slowly, either as if his eyesight were poor or his brain slow to comprehend. But comprehend he must have, for with a smile and a mumbling of sounds that were not words, he drew from his pocket a curiously carved handle.

Pressure on a certain ugly head among the decorations caused two keen blades to shoot out--one long and the other short.

"The double dagger!" murmured several who had crowded about El Capitan.

"Yes, he bears the emblem," admitted the chief. "He is one of us. But it is going to be devilish hard to get much out of him. I hate writing. However, I will see what his mission is."

But hardly had El Capitan begun to frame some questions in writing than there rushed into the meeting room a Mexican with a hand done up in bandages, and with but a bloody smear where, once, an ear had been.

"Pedro!" gasped Don Castro. "Pedro!"

"From the cave?" El Capitan.

"From the cave!" answered the wounded Tola. "They shot me and they have the girl!"

"Ten thousand devils!" yelled El Capitan. "Speak! Who has the girl? What do you mean? Who? Tell me! We are lost!"

He started forward as though to seize the messenger and shake the truth from him, but Don Castro stepped forward, while the deaf mute, putting the double dagger, in which the two blades were once more sheathed, back in his pocket, drew quietly into a corner.

"Let me talk to Pedro," suggested Don Castro. "What happened to you and who took the girl?" he asked quietly.

Then followed a flood of talk, hearing which El Capitan yelled:

"It is that dog of an Americano detective again. Always he turns up unexpectedly. He must die! Quick, call in Valdez and Latro. Set the killers on his trail! He must die! Dog! Pig! Thus to baffle us!"

"He must die!" echoed Don Castro, a wicked smile playing over his face. "But to kill him we must first catch him, and I think Pedro will help. Let us go into conference. And what of this deaf and dumb member from the mountain, El Capitan?"

"His matter can wait. He can hear nothing--tell nothing. Let him wait," and he made a sign to the aged Mexican who had shown the double dagger to take a seat in the corner whither he had retreated, there to wait until the more important matter of planning Nat Ridley's death could be disposed of.

The deaf mute sat down wearily, as though he had traveled far, and he closed his eyes. But there was a curious little smile playing over his brown and wrinkled face.