"But what answer would you make if that question was asked of you?"

"I probably shouldn't answer at all."

"Suppose an answer was insisted upon?"

"I ain't never found nobody yet who could make old Bill Turner answer a question if he didn't want to."

"Do you mean that you would not wish to answer that question?"

"Look here, Handsome, if you want me to promise that I won't tell on ye, why don't you say so? What you and your fellers do ain't none of my funeral, so long as you leave me alone. Do you think I came up here to spy on you?"

"That is what I thought when I first discovered you."

"Well, forget it. I ain't carryin' no tales. I'd 'a' been dead long ago if I had done that. Life's too short. I ain't never mentioned to nobody about the two times I have met you, and I ain't likely to, either. I ain't got time. You ain't robbed my house, and I don't care what you do as long as you leave me alone."

Again Handsome was silent a while, and then he said suddenly:

"Turner, would you like to go to our camp?"

"No; that is, I ain't particular about it. You might think I was trying to spy on ye—or some of the men might, and that would make me mad."

"They won't think anything of the kind if I take you there."

"All right. If you want me to go—I'll go."

"Come along, then. You have got this far, and we've either got to trust you, or kill you. It will depend upon you which that will be."

Keeping in his mind's eye the plans that Turner had made for him, Nick knew perfectly the route over which Handsome led him on the way to the camp, to which he had referred.

It was a picturesque place. Turner had described it in detail to the detective, and had mentioned it as the most likely place for the outlaws to make their headquarters. He had said:

"Ye see, mister, it's a sort of sasser in the mountings. There ain't only one way to git to it from the outside, and that is a purty hard one; so hard that half a dozen men could hold it agin' a thousand; and the other way to git to it is through the caves; and ye've got to know them galleries mighty well in order to find yer way through. I think you'll do it, because you act as if you had been in caves afore."

The place was a "sasser" in the mountains, sure enough. On every side of it there were frowning cliffs, which rose hundreds of feet in the air; and these cliffs were as inaccessible from the outside as they were from the saucer itself. There was only one pathway, and that was through a narrow fissure, barely wide enough for one big man to walk through it.

And this latter could have been stopped up with rocks in half an hour, so that nobody could get through it.

Handsome made the supposed Turner walk in front of him when they entered the fissure; and thus it was that they appeared on the opposite side of it; then Handsome took the lead.

Already the hoboes had erected cabins of slabs and of logs; and many of them were still at work building others; but as with one accord they ceased to work when they saw Handsome approaching with the old man; and they stared at him.

"Have you got another one, Handsome?" somebody called out to him; but Handsome deigned no reply, passing on in silence, and leading the way to a cabin that was larger and better than the others, and which stood exactly in the centre of the miniature valley.

Nick guessed that this was the temporary home of Black Madge, and he was, therefore, not at all surprised when she stepped out upon the porch in front of it.

She showed her white and even teeth, and smiled, in her own bold way, as Handsome approached her, with Nick in tow; and she asked, as soon as they were near enough:

"Whom have we here?"

"It is the old chap I have told you about, Madge," replied Handsome.

"Sent here to spy upon us, I suppose," she smiled scornfully. "Why didn't you shoot him at once instead of bringing him here?"

Before Handsome could reply, Nick wheeled upon him.

"Didn't I tell ye so?" he demanded, with a show of anger. "Didn't I tell ye so? Didn't I say that they be thinking that I was a spy; but you wouldn't have it so? Tell me that."

"I don't think he is a spy, Madge," said Handsome. "Remember that I have known him for a considerable time. And I have found him on the level."

Madge shrugged her shoulders.

"All right," she said. "That is, all right this time. Only now that he is here, he stays. Don't forget that."

"Oh, I haven't forgotten that."

"Nobody leaves this valley without my permission; not a single one."

"They are all pretty well satisfied that you mean that, Madge."

"Now, tell me what you brought the old man here for."

"Because he knows every inch of the galleries inside those caves. I want to know about them myself, and I want the old man to teach me about them. The time will come, Madge, when we will be mighty glad to know about those galleries."

"Possibly so," she replied. "Do as you like with him; only remember—nobody leaves this valley without my permission. When I get the men thoroughly organized and so they will do what I want them to do, then I will turn loose upon the world one of the best—and the worst—criminal organizations that has ever been heard of. Do what you please with the old man. He looks old enough to have been dead long ago."

"And as old as I am, madam, I've never before heard a woman speak so to me," said Nick, as if he were hurt by it.

Madge turned to him quickly.

"You mustn't mind what I say—always Turner," she said. "I have a habit of speaking harshly at times; but I am not unkind to those who are true to me. Do you happen to know a man who is named Nick Carter?"

She asked the question suddenly, as if she expected the utterance of the name would make the supposed Turner start with surprise; but Nick looked at her quite calmly, and replied:

"I know the name. He's a detective chap, ain't he? I heerd about him; something about that bank robbery."

"Is he in Calamont now, Turner?"

"No, ma'am; he ain't."

"You speak positively."

"Well, I know he wasn't there when I came out of town; and I didn't hear that he was expected there, nuther. And if he had been expected there I'd 'a' heerd it. There ain't nothin' goin' on in that town that I don't hear about."

"Do you know if he has been sent for?"

"I ain't heerd nothin' about his bein' sent for, ma'am."

"If, some day, I should decide to send you into the village to do some errands for me, do you suppose you could make some inquiries about Nick Carter for me, and at the same time forget all that you know about us, who are here?"

"I reckon I could, ma'am."

"I'll think about it. I may want to use you," she said; and turned away. But she stopped and turned toward them again, calling to Handsome, who went to her side; but Nick could hear the conversation that passed between them.

"What about that fellow Pat?" she heard Madge inquire; and he could barely refrain from giving a start that might have betrayed him, for that question told him plainly that Patsy had already managed to arrive among the hoboes, and—that his fate still hung in the balance. He listened eagerly for Handsome's reply.

"I haven't had a chance to examine him yet," he said. "You wished me to talk with him before I brought him to you."

"Go and bring him here now. Leave Turner here with me until you return."

"Get up there on the porch and sit down, Turner," he said. "Smoke your pipe if you wish to. The queen won't object. I'll be back in a moment."

But when Handsome had hurried away to bring Patsy, and Nick had seated himself upon a rustic chair, Madge came and stood in front of him.

"Turner," she said severely. "Tell me the truth now. What brought you into this neighborhood?"

"The season of the year brought me," Nick replied to her as he had done to Handsome.

"Who sent you?"

"Nobody sent me, ma'am."

"Swear to that."

"'Tain't necessary. I have said it."

"Do you know what would happen to you if I should find that you were acting as a spy?"

"I suppose I could guess."

"I'd have you burned at the stake, just as Indians used to burn their captives."

"Well, ma'am, I reckon I've lived too long a time now to be much afraid of death. When a man has passed eighty, he ain't much afraid of things."

"Are you as old as that?"

"Old Bill Turner is eighty-four, ma'am; but he don't look it, does he?"

"No. I wish I could feel sure of you. I wish I could feel sure that you are not a spy."

"Well, ma'am, it's my experience that we can't somehow help our feelings much. If you are in doubt about it, treat it as you would an earache—with silent contempt. Doubts, ma'am, are suthin' like boils; they're the devil and all while you've got 'em; but they do get well arter a while. You ain't got no call to doubt old Bill Turner, as I knows on."

"I'll talk with you again, Turner. In the meantime, see that you walk in a straight line."

"I can't do that no more. My old feet ain't so steady as they used to be. But I'll do the best I can."

"We can't ask anybody to do more than that. Now keep silent. Here comes Handsome with another man who I fear may be a spy."

Patsy, with his hair a brick-red, and with spots and freckles on his face that were a sight to see, came forward at that moment, led by Handsome.

His hands were tied together behind his back, and he looked as if he had been treated rather badly. However, there was a grin upon his face as he approached, and ducked his head in what was intended to be a polite bow to the queen of the outlaws.

"So you have come back again?" she demanded of him abruptly.

"Yes, I'm back, your honor—I mean, ma'am," he replied, grinning the more.

"Where have you been while you were away, then? Tell me that?"

"Well, sure, your majesty, I was a-runnin' most of the time. When the fire broke out down there, and the divil to pay generally, they all thinkin' as how it was y'rsilf that was bein' burrnt to death inside the cottage, I helped all I could until it was found out that it wasn't you, at all, at all, but a dummy that had been fixed up to look like you. And then when the hull bunch of the spalpeens went crazy and tried to find out what had become of you, it wasn't long until I found out that I was all alone in that place, the rest having gone in search of you. And after that I thought it wasn't healthy for me around there."

"I think you're a spy, Pat," she said coldly.

"Divil a bit of it. Who says so? Don't you belave it!"

"Why did you not stay with the rest of the men, then?"

"Divil a wan of me can tell that same, now. I clean forget. I think I was scared out of me two wits. If I had been a long time wid yez, instid of bein' there only wan day, sure I'd have remained, so I would. But I'd been there so little that I thought it wasn't healthy for me. That's all."

"What made you come back now?"

"Sure I heard that ye'd escaped from your jailers, and I knowed that you'd be after protecting me. Didn't you tell me that I was all right? And, thinks I, if I can find 'em now, sure the quane will be after takin' care of me; and here I am."

"When I heard that you had returned, I made up my mind to have you shot!"

"Oh, glory be to gracious! Don't be after doin' that same, your honor! Faith, why should ye be after shootin' the likes of me? I ain't done nothin' at all."

Patsy, with a perfect assumption of fright, fell upon his knees before the woman and raised his hands beseechingly to her.

And for a moment she looked down upon him with cold contempt in her eyes. It was evident to Nick, who was watching the scene narrowly, that she was coldly calculating the chances of letting him live, and that a breath upon the scales either way would decide her.

For a long time she remained in the same attitude, and then she raised her head and spoke to Handsome.

"When one in my position is in any doubt," she said coldly, "there is only one thing to do, and that is to give myself, not the other person, the benefit of the doubt. That is what I have decided to do, Handsome. Take him away."

"What shall I do with him?"

"Take him back to the cabin where he was tied up, and tie him up again. To-night, when the fires are lit, we will convene a court and try him. I will be the judge at that trial, and after it is over we will probably hang him. I see no other way. Take him away. Go."



CHAPTER XIV.

BLACK MADGE GIVES JUDGMENT.

It was a strange scene upon which the light of a huge camp fire shone that night, in the mountain retreat of the outlaws.

A stake had been set in the ground, and to this Patsy was tied, so that all could see him plainly. Somewhat to one side, on a huge rustic chair, made by one of the men, the queen was seated in state, ready to act as judge at the trial that was to begin, and Cremation Mike was selected as prosecuting attorney.

A jury of twelve of the men had been drawn, only it was a foregone conclusion that they would bring in their verdict according as the queen should direct.

Handsome acted as master of ceremonies, and around them was gathered the entire membership of Black Madge's hobo gang—as villainous a looking crew as might be imagined.

As yet, no one had been appointed to defend Pat, and now Madge raised one hand, when she was ready to begin the trial, and she announced:

"There is no one who has offered to act as attorney for the prisoner. This trial will afford you some amusement, my men. We will have a good time out of it, anyhow, before we hang him. I will appoint counsel for him."

They were all silent, waiting, and presently she spoke again.

"I will name the old man there, Bill Turner, as counsel for the defense. Will you defend the man, Turner?"

"I'll try to, madam, though I don't know anything about the case. He may be guilty for all I know. What is he charged with?"

"With being a spy."

"If you want me to defend him, I'll do my best."

"Go ahead, then. Let the trial begin," she ordered.

The prosecution took up the case; that is, Cremation Mike got upon his feet and began to make a speech to the jury. He said:

"We've got proof enough that the man is a spy, ain't we, mates? We all know what happened down there in the swamp, the time that Nick Carter got among us, and carried away Black Madge almost before our eyes, and we none the wiser for it. We know how Nick Carter set the cottage afire after drugging Madge, and how then he fixed up a dummy in one of the windows, so that we would think that she was burning up. We know that, don't we, mates?

"And don't we know that there were four men who came to our camp in the swamp at the same time, and who came together? Wasn't one of that four Nick Carter himself? And were not two others of that same four Nick Carter's assistants? And who was the fourth one of that four? Why, it was that cove there, tied to the stake, and waiting for you to hang him.

"Would he have been in that sort of company if he hadn't been made out of the same kind of cloth? Didn't he come there with that other outfit? Didn't we prove—that is, didn't Madge prove that one of the four was Nick Carter; that another of the four was his assistant, who is called Chick? And that still another of the four was another assistant, who is called Ten-Ichi?

"And don't you know that Nick Carter has got still another assistant, and that his other assistant is named Patsy? Haven't you heard of that? It is true. And so is this fellow's name Pat—or Patsy. It is all the same.

"Now, again, didn't they come here together? Didn't Handsome find them camping in the woods, waiting for a chance to get to our camp, and didn't this fellow tell him the first one of the bunch that he was looking for Hobo Harry, the Beggar King—and ain't Hobo Harry and Black Madge one and the same? I tell you, there ain't any doubt that the man is a spy, and that he ought to be hanged.

"Now, do you guns remember what happened the night of the fire, the time when Nick Carter got away with Madge, and took her to jail? I'll remind you of it. Don't you remember that when we found the other two out, they were sent to the quicksand pit? I was one of those who helped to throw them into the quicksand pit. Did you ever hear of anybody's getting out of that pit alive? I never did until that incident; but I have found out since that both those assistants, Chick and Ten-Ichi, are alive and kicking, down in New York, this very day.

"Well, who got 'em out of that quicksand pit, then? Why, this fellow! That is where he was, and what he was doing while we were fighting the fire, and don't you forget it! We was all too busy to remember about the men we had chucked into the sand; but he didn't forget. For why? Because he was one of them himself, and because he had determined all along to go to that pit as soon as ever he could, and get them out of it.

"How'd he get 'em out, you ask? I don't know. I only know that he did get 'em out somehow, for they are out. I know that for certain."

Nick, in the character of Turner, leaped to his feet.

"I object!" he cried out. "This man ain't tryin' this case fair. I don't know who he is, and I don't keer a cuss; I only know that you app'inted me to defend him, and I'm a-goin' to do it till you tell me to stop. I object, ma'am, to the course he is adoptin'. It ain't fair. He's making a lot of statements the which he ain't got a shadow of proof about. I don't know anything about that air fire he speaks about, 'ceptin' what I've heerd down at Calamont. But we ain't got the fire here as a witness; and we ain't got the quicksand here as a witness; and we ain't got the two men as he says was saved from it here as witnesses. And unless he can produce witnesses to testify to what he says about them air escapes, I move that the hull speech he made be strucken out, your honor. Let him call his witnesses to the stand, and swear 'em, or swear at 'em. Let him do suthin, 'cept standing up there and shootin' off his mouth."

Madge smiled grimly. She was getting more enjoyment out of this affair than she had anticipated.

"Call your witnesses, Mike," she said.

"I ain't got none, Madge, to swear to what I have said, but every one here knows it is the solemn truth. I don't need no witnesses. However, I'll put Handsome on the stand fur a minute, about the way the bunch arrived at our camp, if you say so."

"I think it would be a good idea. It would be more regular."

"All right, Madge. Handsome, take the stand. Hold up your right hand, and swear that you'll tell the truth. That's all right. Now, did you hear what I said about your findin' that outfit in the woods north of the track?"

"I did."

"Wasn't it the dead-level truth?"

"It was."

"The hull four was there, warn't they?"

"They were."

"And they was all strangers?"

"They were."

"You never seen any one of them afore that time, had you?"

"Never."

"And, later, wasn't it found out that three of 'em were spies?"

"It was."

"And wasn't one of the spies Nick Carter himself?"

"Yes."

"And weren't the other two his assistants?"

"They were."

"Didn't they confess it?"

"They did."

"And weren't they afterward thrown into the quicksand pit to die?"

"They were."

"Did they die there?"

"I don't think they did."

"Don't you know that they escaped?"

"I'm reasonably certain of it."

"How did they escape?"

"I don't know that."

"Isn't it your opinion that this galoot here——"

"I object!" shouted Nick.

"Oh, well," exclaimed Mike, in disgust, "ask him some questions yourself, then."

"I will. Handsome, when did you first see them four in the woods north o' the track?"

"Oh, I don't know. Before dark that night."

"Was they together?"

"Part of the time."

"Only part o' the time? What do you mean by that?"

"They didn't come there together."

"Oh, didn't they? Where was you?"

"I was hiding, and watching them."

"So you saw 'em all when they arrived there, did you?"

"Yes."

"Who got there first?"

"This man—Pat."

"Did the others appear to know him?"

"No; but they didn't appear to know each other, either."

"But if they were spies, and you afterward proved that they were, and if they got there, and found Pat already there, it would be natural that they should act as if they didn't know each other, wouldn't it, in order to deceive him?"

"I suppose so."

"Have you ever seen anything suspicious about the prisoner?"

"No; only his disappearance after the fire and the arrest of Madge."

"P'r'aps he kin explain that."

"He can't. He has tried already. You heard him. I don't call that an explanation, but it is probably the best he can give."

"Would you be afraid to trust him now?"

"Personally? I don't think I would."

"Then, personally, you don't think that he is a spy?"

"No; but I don't know that he isn't."

"That'll do. I don't want to ask you any more questions." He turned to Cremation Mike. "Have you got any more witnesses?" he asked.

"No," with a grin. "I don't need no more."

"Maybe not. But I've got one witness."

"Oh! Have you. Who is it?"

"I'm going to put the prisoner on the stand."

But Madge was plainly tired of the amusement already. She rose in her place, and her eyes were flashing darkly.

"We will stop this farce here and now," she said. "It won't do any good, anyhow. I can see plainly enough that there are some here who believe he is a spy. I am a good deal of that opinion myself; and as there is a doubt in my mind, I'll just settle the thing right now. Jury, you can find the man guilty. That's what he is, probably."

"Guilty," said the jury, with one voice, and grinning.

"Prisoner," continued Madge, "you have got until to-morrow morning, at nine o'clock, to live. At that time the boys will take you to some convenient tree, and hang you by the neck until you're dead—and that settles it."

Things looked dark for Patsy. It was quite evident that Black Madge was in deadly earnest in what she had said. One life more or less was absolutely nothing to her, and if there was the breath of a suspicion against one, it was, from her standpoint, better to put that one out of the way at once than to run any sort of risk by permitting him to live.

Nor did the hoboes who had gathered there to hear and to witness the trial hesitate to voice their sentiments about it by loud cheering when Madge uttered the sentence of death. It would be a hanging, indeed, and it did not make much difference to them who was hung. It has been said before that they were much like wild beasts, or dogs, who are without any quality of compassion.

When Nick walked away from the scene of the trial near the fire, he found that Handsome was beside him, and then, before either uttered a word, Madge joined them.

She was smiling as if she were well pleased with her evening's work, and she said to the detective:

"You did well, Turner. One would suppose that you had at some time been a lawyer."

"I'd 'a' got the man free if I'd had a fair judge and jury," replied Nick boldly, stroking the white whiskers he wore.

Madge frowned. Then she laughed aloud.

"I like you for your boldness," she said. "But have a care that you do not find yourself suddenly in the same predicament, Turner."

"I'd be inclined to shoot myself afore I came to trial, if I should," Nick retorted.

They had reached Madge's cabin by this time, and now they mounted to the porch, and Nick pulled out an old pipe that Turner had given him, filled it, and lighted it.

The detective was determined in his own mind that before the dawn of another day he would find some way to save Patsy; but how it was to be done he had no idea.

He did not know yet what disposition they intended to make of him. For all he knew they might send him into one of the cabins and lock him up for the night. But he did know that unless he acted, Patsy would be murdered at sunrise the following morning, and he did not intend to permit that to happen.

"Miss Madge," he said, after a pause, during which he had smoked in silence, "if it is all the same to you, I'd like to know what you intend to do with me to-night. I'm an old man, and I'm sorter 'customed to going to bed rayther early, so, if you don't mind, and you'll tell me where I'm to sleep, I think I'll turn in."

Instead of replying directly to him, Madge turned to Handsome.

"What shall we do with him?" she asked. "You are responsible for his being here. I think I will turn him over to you."

"All right," said Handsome, rising. "I'll take him to my own cabin. He'll be safe enough there. I'll be back in a minute, Madge."

Nick followed him across the floor of the little valley to a hut that was at the opposite side of it, and close to the cliff—and Nick knew at once, from his recollection of the plan he had studied, that he was quite near to the entrance to the cavern.

The cabin consisted of only one room, in which two bunks had been roughly built, and, after lighting a candle, Handsome indicated one of these, and said:

"You can sleep there, Turner. Turn in when you like. To-morrow we will explore the caves together."

"Right you are," said Nick, yawning widely. "I shan't need any rocking this night. My old legs are tired out for sure."

Two minutes after the departure of Handsome, Nick blew out the candle, and for a time he stretched himself in the bunk, lest Handsome should return to see that all was right. But it was speedily evident to the detective that Handsome had no suspicion whatever of him, and had, therefore, left him to his own devices.

But Nick knew that it could not be very long before the outlaw would return to seek his own rest and repose, and that he must, therefore, determine upon what he was to do before he should return.

Ten minutes he lay there, and then he rose slowly and cautiously from the bunk and crept to the door which had been left open, and peered out.

The fires were still blazing merrily, and many of the men were gathered around them. Some of the men were playing cards, and the others were engaged in various ways. At all events, they one and all seemed to have forgotten his existence, and that was what he chiefly desired.

Nick knew in which cabin Patsy was a prisoner. He could see it from the doorway where he was standing, almost opposite him at the other side of the valley. The distance in feet from his own position was about the distance of a city block—two hundred feet.

The old silver watch, the size of a turnip, which Turner had carried forty years or more, was in his pocket, and by the light of the stars Nick managed to see the time—ten o'clock.

"There is no time like the present," he mused to himself, while he hesitated in the doorway. "If I wait until all is quiet, I will stand all the more chance of being discovered; and, besides, it won't be long until Handsome returns here, and after he has come and crawled into his bunk it will be next to impossible for me to get out of here without rousing him—unless I should drug him, and that will not do at all. Handsome is altogether too fly for that. He would know that he had been drugged.

"Now, if it wasn't for these white whiskers, I could creep around the edge of the bottom of the cliff to the cabin where Patsy is, without being noticed; and I dare not take them off——"

He stopped there. There was absolutely no use in conjecturing upon the "ifs" of the question, and so, after another moment, during which he studied the lay of the land intently, he slipped noiselessly out at the door and around behind the cabin, and from there crept on his hands and knees to the bottom of the cliffs. And there he discovered what he had been unable to see in the imperfect light. The grass there was quite tall, where it had not been trampled by the feet of the motley crew that infested the place, and he found that by lying at full length and pulling himself slowly along on his stomach he would be able to conceal himself almost entirely from view.

Nick made that half circle of the small valley, crawling in that way, and entirely without being discovered; and in that manner he arrived directly in the rear of the cabin where Patsy was a prisoner.

But here a new difficulty confronted him. There was a guard in front of the door, and that guard, strangely enough, was Cremation Mike.

The cabin in which Patsy was a prisoner was built of roughly hewn logs, the crevices and chinks being stopped with mud and clay. The ground beneath it was hard—rocky, in fact; so there was no possibility of digging under the logs without tools to do it, and even then it would have taken too much time to accomplish it.

Nick turned his attention to Cremation Mike. He was seated upon a convenient stump, smoking a short pipe. His back was toward the door of the cabin, and he was about ten feet from it. The door itself had been fastened by passing a freshly cut sapling across its front, and slipping either end of it into rustic slots that had been hastily fashioned for the purpose.

It was plain that there was only one way to get Patsy outside of that cabin, and that was to overcome Cremation Mike; and, having determined upon this, Nick crept forward as silently as a shadow, and so rounded the corner of the cabin, and presently came up half standing, directly behind the unsuspecting outlaw.

Nick did not wish to kill the man, but he did want to knock him out so effectually that he could not interfere in what was to follow, and therefore he had picked up a piece of round, smooth stone, which he had wrapped in his handkerchief.

And now, with this improvised weapon, he struck Cremation Mike sharply on the back of his head, with the result that Mike pitched forward, and would have fallen to the ground had not Nick managed to catch him. Then he laid him down gently upon the ground, and turning swiftly, opened the door of the cabin.

"Quick, Patsy!" he called in a sharp whisper. "It is I. Nick. Come."

Patsy, who had not been bound, it seemed, leaped to the door with a low exclamation of surprise and pleasure.

"Bully, Nick," he whispered. "I thought it was all up with me that time. And do you know, it never once occurred to me that the old man might be you. The disguise is perfect."

"Come," said Nick. "There is no time for words now. Follow me, and do exactly as I do. I want to get back to my own sleeping place before my absence is discovered, if it is possible to do so. But, first, is there any sort of a chair or stool inside that cabin?"

"Yes. A stool."

"Bring it out, if you know where to put your hand upon it."

Patsy brought it in a twinkling, and, placing it against the stump, Nick propped the senseless form of Mike upon it, so that from the front it appeared as if he were seated there quite naturally.

"He will come around presently," said Patsy, "and miss me."

"Let him. That is what I want him to do," replied Nick. "Come on, now."

He dropped upon his knees again, and, with Patsy following, they crept around through the grass again along the edge of the cliff, and at last reached the cabin from which the detective had started.

But he did not stop here. He made at once for the entrance to the cavern, which was near at hand, and passed inside, with Patsy following closely behind him; and then with his electric flash light, he led the way along the corridor of the cave—for it was his object to find that hiding place to which Turner had directed him in case he found it necessary to hide.

"Keep to the right always in that cave, no matter which way you are going," Turner had told him with emphasis, and remembering that now, while he wondered if, after all, there were two corridors to the cavern, he followed the rule, and almost on a run—for the passage was quite smooth before them—he led the way through.

They came at last to the bowlder to which Turner had referred, and Nick removed the small stone from beneath it. And then he pushed upon it as Turner had directed, with the result that the rock swung open before them, leaving an aperture through which they could easily pass.

But Nick did not enter. Instead he thrust a candle and a box of matches into Patsy's grasp, and said to him:

"Remain here until I come for you, even if you get hungry. I don't know any more about what is ahead of you than you do. I only know that you will be safe there. We have no time to talk now. I will shut this rock behind you."

Then he turned and sped away.



CHAPTER XV.

NICK'S CLEVEREST CAPTURE.

Nick Carter made his way as rapidly back through the cavern as he had gone through it with Patsy; but when he arrived at the entrance he came to a stop, and then went ahead again very slowly.

He had no idea how long a time he had been gone, nor what might have happened during his absence. But when he peered out upon the valley, everything was apparently in the condition in which he had left it. If there had been any change at all, it was only that fewer of the men were gathered around the fires. Otherwise everything was the same.

And so, with all the swiftness he could muster, he crawled to the cabin which Handsome had given him to occupy, entered it cautiously, and, finding it empty, crawled into the bunk that had been allotted to him—tired, but rejoiced to think that he had succeeded so well where there had been such small chance of success.

And it so happened that he had barely laid himself down and composed himself to wait for developments, when a great cry went up, which was immediately followed by other shouts and loud curses—and Nick knew that the escape of Patsy had been discovered, and that he had returned just in time to avoid the consequences.

Almost immediately following upon the utterance of the shouts, the door of the cabin flew open, and Handsome leaped inside, his eyes ablaze, and his whole form quivering with rage—and he carried a flash light, which he threw at once into the detective's face; into the face of the man he supposed to be Bill Turner.

Nick could see that the instant the light fell upon him Handsome seemed greatly relieved; and then, before the outlaw could utter a word, Nick cried out in the voice of old Turner:

"What—what's all that row about, Handsome?" and he blinked his eyes as if he had just been awakened.

"It's lucky for you that you don't know what it's about!" was Handsome's rejoinder. "Get out of that, Turner, and come along with me."

"But, what's the matter?" demanded Nick, sliding out of the bunk. "What has happened?"

"That fellow Pat has escaped—that's what!" was the reply.

"Sho! You don't say so! Well, well, well! When did he do it?"

"I haven't found out yet. Come along. I thought at first that maybe you had had a hand in it—but I see you did not."

"What! Me?"

Every hobo that belonged to the gang had gathered in the centre of the place near where the mock trial had been held, and they were talking earnestly together. Cremation Mike, with one hand held at the back of his head, was the centre of the group—or rather of the throng.

But Handsome burst unceremoniously through the crowd and confronted Mike, Nick following at his heels.

Black Madge forced her way through it at the same time from the opposite side.

"Now, Mike," said Handsome savagely. "Tell me how this happened."

"I don't know. All that I know is, I got a crack on the head from behind. When I woke up, the bar had been ripped off the door and the bird had flown. That's all I know."

"How long ago did it happen?"

"How do I know that? Unless some one can tell how long I've been unconscious. But I'll bet my hat that it ain't ten minutes. I don't think it's three minutes. He can't be far away, and"—grinning—"he can't get away. He can't go through the pass, because the guards are there; I posted them myself; and the only way in which he could hope to get out is through the cave, and I don't believe he could find his way through there. I know that I wouldn't try it myself. I'd rather stay here and be hung."

Madge interrupted the conversation here.

"Do you think that he got out of the cabin without aid?" she asked of Mike. "Do you believe that it was he who struck you, Mike?"

"I do, Madge. I'm sure of it."

"Then, you weren't keeping good guard, that's all."

"Well, I never thought it was possible for him to get out of that cabin. It may be that I dozed. I didn't suppose I did, but——"

"But," said Madge icily, "the point is this: The boys shall not be disappointed in the hanging bee they were to hold in the morning. It is up to you, Mike, to find the prisoner. If you don't find him in time, you shall hang in his place—that's all. I mean it."

Cremation Mike's face turned to the color of chalk, for he realized that she did, indeed, mean what she said. For a moment he stood there trembling, and then he seized a lantern which one of the men was holding, and cried out:

"Come along, whoever will help me. I know that he can't have gone far. He ain't had time. I know it. Come along."

"Wait," said Handsome coolly; and he turned to Nick.

"Turner," he said, "I begin to think that it is fortunate that you came here when you did."

"I am sure of it," said Nick in reply.

"You know that cave from end to end, don't you?"

"I think I do."

"Then, you shall act as guide."

"All right. I'm ready."

But this short conversation had called the attention of Madge to the supposed old man, whom she had for the moment forgotten, and now she turned savagely upon him.

"I believe that you are at the bottom of this," she said, her eyes blazing.

Before Nick could make any reply, Handsome broke in.

"That is nonsense, Madge," he said. "I know it. As soon as there was an alarm—as soon as Mike yelled out that the prisoner had escaped, I legged it for the cabin, and I found Turner just waking up from his sleep. He had no hand in it. He couldn't."

"It's lucky for you," said Madge, still eying Nick sharply.

"Will you guide us through the cave, Turner?" demanded Handsome.

"Sure."

"Then, come on."

"Hold on a minute," said Nick. "Don't you think it would be a good idea to send some of the men to guard the other entrances? If the prisoner hasn't had time to get through the cave yet, and if he should happen to find one of the ways out on the other side, he'd run right into the arms of whoever was on the watch."

"Good!" said Handsome. "We know of two outside entrances. How many do you know about?"

"Four," replied Nick. "Four, not counting the hole under the Dog's Nose. That may be an entrance; but one man can guard that."

"Where are those entrances?"

Glibly Nick described how they might be found, using the exact language that had been used by the old man in his description of them; and after a short delay four men were sent away to each of the entrances, on a run, with instructions to remain on guard before them until they should be relieved.

"Now," said Nick, when they had gone, "we know that the prisoner can't escape. We know it's only a matter of time when he'll be caught—therefore, we needn't hurry. Don't you agree with me, Handsome? He can't get out of the cave at any of the entrances, without being captured or shot down, an', o' course, he can't come back this way without meetin' with the same fate. Ain't that right?"

"I guess it is," agreed Handsome.

"Ain't that right, Miss Madge?" asked Nick again, turning to her.

"It sounds entirely reasonable," she replied. "There has been only one mistake made from the start of this affair, and that is that Pat was not shot down when he first showed himself here. As it stands now, he has temporarily made his escape. I am satisfied, now, that he is a spy, and I commission each one of you to shoot him down without mercy, on sight. I shall go with you into the cave to search."

"Do you wish me to direct the search?" asked Nick, still standing quietly before her.

"Yes. What have you to suggest?"

"This: There be four entrances outside o' the one here in this little valley. I should divide the men into four parts. I kin direct each party so that it won't have no difficulty in followin' the cavern and searching it thoroughly to the entrance. I'll take one o' the parties. How many men are there here now?"

"Let me see," replied Madge. "Sixteen have gone away to guard the entrances, and four will have to remain here on guard. That takes away twenty. We still have eighty left."

"Good. That'll give us twenty in each party. Now, madam, it's for you to say who'll lead them. Tell me who the leaders will be, and I'll instruct 'em at once."

She picked out four of the men, and ordered them to step forward; and, one by one, Nick directed each of them how to proceed after he had passed the entrance of the cavern with the men who were to follow him; and he made the directions so explicit that there was not one who had any doubt about being able to follow them.

It was as Nick had suspected it would be; that Madge did not yet trust him far enough to give him the sole leadership of one of the parties, but she directed that Handsome should go with him—and at the last moment, when they were ready to start, and after the other three parties had entered the cavern, she decided to accompany Nick's party herself.

"I may as well go along," she said. "I would like to learn something about the interior of that cavern myself, and I don't know a better way to learn it than to go with you."

And so it was that presently the detective found himself in the cavern, leading twenty-two persons, for the extra two were Madge and Handsome.

And the course that Nick had selected for himself was the one that would take him past the hiding place where he had left Patsy; for it was no part of his plan that he should give the others even a chance of an accident of finding that hiding place.

It had been shortly after eleven o'clock when Nick returned to the cabin after assisting Patsy in his escape; it was now after midnight.

There were torches and lanterns in abundance scattered among the four parties that were searching; and, in the directions that Nick had given each party, he had taken good care that they should become thoroughly lost if possible. He had an object in this, as will be seen.

The way through the cave along the route which the detective had selected to follow was smooth and even, as we already know; but Nick made it as long and as rough as possible by taking the party off into some of the side galleries as they proceeded.

He was looking for a place where he might lose some of them, and at least where he might, before the expedition was finished, succeed in separating them.

What he chiefly desired was to finally get either Madge or Handsome alone with him.

It was two hours later before they finally passed the bowlder behind which was the entrance to the hiding place where Patsy was concealed; but not one of the party so much as glanced toward it; and Nick led the way on past it to the exit—and that exit was not the hole under the Dog's Nose, but a larger one at some distance from it.

There they found the four men who had been sent hither, and they reported that they had seen nothing; and cautioning them to remain on guard, Nick led his party back into the cave again.

And then, after a few moments, he pretended suddenly to find that fifth entrance—the hole under the Dog's Nose—and there four other men were waiting—and they had seen not a thing to suggest the proximity of the prisoner who had escaped.

"Now," said Nick, "I think we'd better s'arch them side galleries more thoroughly. If you'll return with me to the entrance from the valley, we'll start over again, and go into and through every one o' 'em. We'll divide our party into smaller groups o' three and four, and in that way we kin cover all of them at the same time. What do you say?"

"All right," said Madge, still looking upon him with suspicion. "But Handsome and I will remain with you, Turner."

"That is what I hoped you'd do," replied Nick; but he spoke with a meaning which she did not understand.

They followed the plan suggested by the detective. That is, they returned to the entrance from the valley, and there Nick divided his followers into six parties, thus arranging that four of the parties should contain four searchers each, one of them should contain three, and his own immediate party should consist of himself, with Handsome and Madge.

To the leaders of each of these subparties he gave the necessary directions, with the result that he sent them off as they arrived at their respective galleries, and after a little he found himself alone with the two chiefs of the outlaws.

"There ain't much for us to do now," he said. "There ain't much more searching as we kin do. There's only two galleries left for us to explore 'less we find some hiding place that's remained unknown until now."

"And that isn't likely, is it?" asked Madge. Her voice was still filled with suspicion against him.

"You know as much about that ere as I do," he replied.

But they searched each of the galleries without any result, and Nick finally directed the route so that at last they paused to rest directly in front of the movable rock behind which was the entrance to the place where Patsy was concealed.

And Nick seated himself so that his own back was against that rock, for he did not care to run the chance that Handsome might lean against it hard enough to move it—at least, not until he was in every way prepared for that part of the drama.

Madge was tired by this time, and she showed it. She leaned against the rocky wall and sighed deeply; and Handsome furnished the cue for the next scene—so perfectly that Nick could not have ordered it otherwise if he had tried.

"I'm dry," said Handsome, yawning. "This is dry work, Madge. Don't you think we had better give the thing up for a time and wait. Pat will be starved out after a little. He'll have to come out and get caught."

"If he ain't lost in the galleries," suggested Nick; and Madge replied:

"No; we won't give it up. If you are dry, Handsome, suppose you go to the camp and get something for us all. I wouldn't mind having something myself."

"I'll do it," said Handsome, rising. "Wait here."

He was off like a shot, for now he felt that he knew the route sufficiently well through the caverns to find his way without difficulty; as, indeed, he did. And he had a lantern to light his path.

Nick sat quietly until Handsome was well out of hearing, and then, purposely, he leaned very hard against the rock behind him—so hard that it moved, and he nearly fell upon his back inside the opening.

With a well-simulated cry of surprise, he leaped to his feet, and stood staring, and Madge did the same.

"A secret hidin' place!" cried out the supposed old man—and he pushed the rock farther in, thus making the opening even larger.

Then he stooped forward toward it.

"Hello in there!" he called lustily, for he wished to warn Patsy of what was taking place, and at the same time to instruct him what to do. "Come out of that, you—Pat! There are two of us here, and one is Madge herself. Come out of that!"

"You fool!" exclaimed Madge.

"Come out of that!" repeated the detective, pretending not to hear her. "Come out of that, or we'll come in after you!"

There was no reply, and Nick turned to her.

"Come along," he said. "We'll go inside and find him."

She had a revolver in her hand, and now she stepped quickly forward, for there was nothing of the coward about Black Madge. There was not a thing on earth that she feared.

She stepped forward so quickly that she had passed inside the barrier of rock before Nick—as he intended she should—and then, as he stepped after her, he seized her quickly from behind—seized both her arms, and pulled them behind her with a suddenness that made her drop her weapon to the rocky floor.

As he pulled her backward, she tried to cry out, but he had anticipated that, and already he had grasped her so that he could press one of his hands for an instant over her mouth, and at the same moment he called out:

"Quick, Patsy! On your life! There isn't an instant to spare!"

And Patsy was ready and fully prepared.

He had approached them through the darkness at the first note of warning from Nick, and was in reality only a few feet distant when they entered the rocky passage; so that when the detective seized upon Madge and pulled her backward, Patsy was ready to leap forward and to give his aid.

When Nick's hand was pressed over her mouth to stop the cry that rose to her lips, Patsy was there to seize her, also; and he did it; and, although she struggled fiercely, she was quickly overpowered, and a gag was thrust into her mouth.

Then they tied her, hand and foot, with cords with which Nick had provided himself, and together they carried her far back into the recess behind the rock.

"There is a big room here," said Patsy. "And it is stocked with provisions, and a stream of pure water trickles through it. One could live here a month without going out."

"Good!" said the detective. "Carry her in there. Then when we have made her safe, we will wait for Handsome, and serve him in the same manner. And after that, I have got a plan which will work the whole thing out to a finish."

Madge was glaring at him venomously all this time, for she could not speak. But her eyes were terrible to see in their utter ferocity.

She knew now what the game was that had been played against her. She knew now that the man she had supposed to be old Bill Turner was all the time no other than Nick Carter himself.

She could have bitten her tongue out with rage and chagrin. She fairly writhed in the ecstasy of her impotent anger.

But they laid her gently upon the rocky floor, where there were some blankets over leaves—it was evident that Bill Turner had used this place as a retreat of his own, and had provided it for that purpose, like a schoolboy who finds a cave and makes a cache—and then Nick spoke to her.

"You see, Madge," he said, "it is all up with you and your gang; or very nearly so. We are going out now to capture Handsome, and bring him here to keep you company. After that I will show you a trick that will make you green with envy, and that will finish up this hobo business of yours once and forever. Come on, Patsy."

They left her there and returned to the entrance.

"Now," said the detective, "there is only one way to make Handsome fall into the trap. We must leave this entrance open for him to discover when he returns. He will first miss us. Then he will see the hole behind the rock. Then he will step forward to look inside. Then no doubt he will call out. I will stand here and remain silent; and then Handsome will do one of two things—he will either come inside to search for Madge and me, or he will set up a yell for the others to come to him."

"Suppose he brings some of the men back with him?" asked Patsy.

"We have got to chance that."

"Well, what are we to do when he steps inside this hole—for he will do that?"

"You stand over there in that niche," replied Nick. "When he steps inside the very nature of the place will bring his back toward me. I will tap him on the back of the head with my fist and knock him into your arms. You are to grab him with your arms around him, and hold him so that he cannot get at a weapon, and until I can get my fingers on him. That is all. Now, ready and wait."

They had some time to wait; longer than Nick expected, and he began to fear that Handsome would bring some of the men back with him; but at last they saw the glimmer of his light as he approached, and Nick knew by the sounds he heard that Handsome was returning alone.

Presently he appeared. He was calling out softly, for he could not understand why he had not been answered—and the light he carried prevented him from seeing the hole behind the rock until it was directly in front of him.

And then he came to a sudden stop, and gazed at it in astonishment.

"Gee!" Nick heard him exclaim. "Dogged if they haven't found a hole here. And they have gone into it, too. I wonder if that old cuss knew about it all the time?"

He remained in doubt for a moment what to do; and then, as Nick had predicted, he stepped softly forward, and, holding his light aloft, peered through the opening.

But Nick had chosen his place of concealment well, and Handsome could not see him.

Then Handsome called out:

"Madge! Bill! Where the devil are you?"

There was no reply, and he waited a moment before he called again. Then he repeated:

"Madge! Madge!"

When no reply came to this second call, he stood for some time in doubt, as if he thought of calling assistance to him before he entered that dark and unknown place; and once Nick thought he half turned, as if he had decided to summon some of the others.

But he evidently thought better of this, for he turned about resolutely again, and boldly stepped into the opening. Two such steps brought him exactly into the position where the detective wanted him, and as soon as he had achieved it, Nick struck him with his fist.

With a half-articulated cry, Handsome pitched forward and fell into the grasp of Patsy, who was ready for him; and then, when he would have struggled, other arms—Nick's—seized him from behind, and another blow fell upon him, striking him behind the ear, and rendering him half dazed for the moment.

And then Nick, knowing that Patsy could hold him, turned about and closed the rock door of the retreat; and before Handsome had recovered his senses sufficiently to offer any resistance, the two detectives had bound him so securely that he could not move.

"Take his feet," ordered Nick, then. "We will carry him back into that chamber, to keep Madge company."

While they were doing that, Handsome managed to recover his powers of speech—for, now that the rock door was closed, Nick did not think it necessary to gag the man—and his powers of speech in this particular instance were something frightful to listen to.

He was still swearing when they dropped him, none too gently, upon the floor of the cavern not far from Madge; and then Patsy lighted two bracket lamps with which the place was provided, while Nick smilingly removed the gag from Madge's mouth.

And where Handsome had worn out his vocabulary of curses, Madge took it up, and completed it in masterly style, and there was really nothing for either of the detectives to say for a long time. But her breath was gone after a while, and she lapsed into sullen silence, closing her remarks with the request:

"At least give me something to drink out of that bottle that Handsome went after."

Nick could really do nothing less, and he complied; and the liquor seemed to restore some of her accustomed coolness, for she looked at Nick with an ugly gleam in her black eyes, and said:

"You are Nick Carter again, aren't you?"

"Again?" replied Nick, laughing. "I was always Nick Carter. I was so interested in that last interview I had with you, Madge, that I couldn't stay away; and now, when you condemned my assistant to death, you hastened the reckoning. That is all."

"I'll condemn you to death yet—and watch you die, too!" was her retort.



CHAPTER XVI.

NICK MAKES BAD MEDICINE.

Handsome had also recovered from his paroxysm of rage by this time, for he was one who had the gift of knowing when he was beaten, and the logic to accept a situation when he knew that it could not be avoided.

"I reckon you've got the drop on us, Carter," he said. "You've played the game mighty well, too. There is one thing about it that I would like to know, though, if you will tell me. Will you?"

"What is it?" asked the detective.

"I want to know if you have been old Bill Turner from the beginning. I want to know if it was you whose acquaintance I made in the first place, the time I was pulled out of the hole in the rocks, or if it was old Bill himself."

"That was the old man himself," replied Nick, smiling.

"And the second time I met him; was that him—or you?"

"That was the old man, also."

"Well, all that I can say is that you have played the part so devilish well that I find it hard to believe even now that you are not what you appear to be."

"You're a fool!" said Madge spitefully.

"Oh, I admit the impeachment, Madge. There isn't any doubt of it. I'm a fool, all right."

"And you are up against it rather hard just now, Handsome; you and Madge," said Nick.

"I know that, too. I'm no fool as far as that is concerned. What are you going to do about the rest of the gang?"

"I'm going to capture the whole bunch," was Nick's rather astonishing reply.

"I don't see how you are going to do it," retorted Handsome. "There is a cold hundred of them, all told—and every entrance to the cave is guarded. You attended to that yourself."

"Certainly, I did; because I foresaw this very moment."

"Well, all that I can say is that you can see a cussed sight farther into a stone fence than I can."

"I'll show you how it is done, if you are interested," replied the detective. "But, first, I am afraid that I will have to ask you to step out here a moment, into the other part of the cave, always remembering that if you make any kind of a break, down you go with a cracked skull;" and Nick leaned forward and loosened the cords around his ankles.

"Oh, I know when my hands are in the air, Carter. If I make any breaks it will be because I think I see a chance of winning. What do you want?"

He rose stiffly to his feet as he asked the question; and Nick looked him in the eye as he replied:

"I want you to remember, in the first place, that I am more than twice or three times as strong as you are, and that if you offer to give me any trouble I shall hurt you; and hurt you so badly, too, that you won't get over it right away. I am going to take you into the other part of this cavern, toward the door where we entered. I am going to free your hands, and then I shall ask you to put on these old togs that Turner has left here for a change of clothing in case he got wet—for I want these that I am wearing for Patsy. After you have made the change I shall tie you up again, and then you will see—what you will see. But, remember, if you refuse to obey me on the instant that I give an order, down you go, and I will take the clothing off your senseless body, instead of letting you do it, and keep well. Now, are you ready?"

"Yes."

Nick took him into the adjoining part of the cave, and held the light on him while he made the necessary change; for Nick had found some extra clothing of Turner's in the cave; and when that was done he tied Handsome up again, more securely than ever, and placed him on the floor again.

"Now, Patsy," he said, "you and I will make a change. You will play the part of old Turner, and I will play the part of Handsome. It is necessary for what we have to do."

Nick first dressed himself in the outer clothes that Handsome had removed; and then he sent Patsy into the other part of the cave to put on the clothing he had taken off—the suit that he had worn as old Turner; and, while Patsy was making the change, he was himself busily engaged in removing the white beard and hair that he had been wearing.

It will not be necessary to describe in detail this operation; it is sufficient to say that the two detectives worked steadily for a long time; and that when at last they were through with what they were doing, Nick had assumed the personality of Handsome, and Patsy was transformed into what Nick had been—old Bill Turner.

When everything was in readiness, he saw to it once more that the bonds which held his two prisoners were sufficiently secure, and that there was no possibility of their escaping; and he went so far as to fasten them to the opposite walls, so that they could not crawl within reach of each other, and make use of their teeth; and then he turned to Patsy, who was now, to all outward appearance, old Bill Turner.

"Come along, Bill," he said, exactly imitating the voice of Handsome—so that Handsome grinned in spite of himself. "We have got a lot to do yet, and it will be daylight before we know it."

They passed outside then, into the corridor of the cavern, and when Nick had shut the big rock in place over the entrance, he wedged the small stone under it, so that it could not be moved from the inside.

"There," he said. "Even if they should get loose, which is not at all likely, they could not get out. And if they yell themselves hoarse, nobody could hear them. Come on. We've got a lot of work cut out for us."

"What is there to do first?" asked Patsy.

"The first thing is to return to the cabins in the valley, and find out what time it is. Oh, there is a watch in those clothes. Look at it. What time is it?"

"Half-past two," replied Patsy, imitating the broken voice of the old man to perfection.

"That's good, Patsy. I refer to your imitation. You will not have to use it much—possibly not at all; but it is as well to be perfect in your part all the same. I think we will have time enough for what we have to do if we hurry."

He led the way rapidly then, back to the valley, where some of the searchers had already returned, and he found them grouped around the exit, when they issued from the cave.

But when they attempted to address him, believing him to be Handsome, he returned no reply, for he had seen Handsome ignore them utterly many times; but it was Cremation Mike who stepped forward in front of them as they approached the cabin in which Madge was supposed to live.

"Any luck?" he demanded surlily.

"No," replied Nick, stopping for a moment.

"Look here, Handsome, if that fellow is gone for good, do you suppose that Madge will do what she said she would?"

"What was that, Mike?"

"Hang me in his place?"

"I shouldn't wonder if she did."

"Say, Handsome, can't you say a word for me with her? Where is she? Can I see her?"

"You had better keep away from her," suggested Nick.

"No; I want to see her. Take me to her, will you?"

"All right. Come along," replied the detective, and so Cremation Mike fell in behind them, and followed them into the cabin where Madge was supposed to be.

But they were no sooner inside the house with the door closed than Nick wheeled in his tracks, and grasped Mike by the throat, and then struck him with his fist over the temple. The result was that Cremation Mike sank to the floor without a sound, and was speedily bound and gagged.

"That's one," said the detective grimly. "There are a good many more, Patsy."

"Do you expect to get them all, one by one, in that way?" asked Patsy. "It will take a week to do that."

"No; I have a better plan than that. Wait."

Nick knew of Madge's fondness for trapdoors, and also that she always kept a large supply of liquors on hand with which sometimes she treated her men, or some of them. He had no doubt that somewhere in that cabin he would not only find the liquors he wanted, but also drugs.

There was a trapdoor in the floor of the largest room in the cabin, and under it was a shallow cellar wherein were several cases of liquors. The robbery of freight cars had always kept the hoboes well supplied with such articles.

"Now, I'm going to make the hoboes a punch," he said to Patsy. He was searching through a cupboard while he spoke, and from there he produced a large bottle of laudanum. "I will have to use this," he continued. "It is the only thing here which will do at all, and as it has an excessively bitter taste, I will have to make a punch in order to conceal it. But it will do the work I want done better and more safely than anything else."

"You'll have to use a washtub for the punch, to make enough for all of them," said Patsy. "And is there enough laudanum?"

"Plenty; and there is a couple of pails. They will do as well as a tub. Now help me. We have lemons, and sugar, and everything that we require, here in this cupboard. But first, let's drop Cremation Mike into the cellar with the cases."

They did that, and replaced the trapdoor; then they sliced lemons—all that they could find; they found a pot of cold tea, and this they dumped into the mess with the laudanum; and upon all this, bottle after bottle of the whisky was poured into the pails until they were filled to the brim.

"Now, Patsy," said the detective, "remember that you are old Bill Turner. I want you to go out among the men right now, and tell them that Madge and Handsome have fixed them all up a punch, and if they will form in line and pass in front of the door of this cabin, each one of them can have two drinks of it. And it would be a good idea if you should act as if you had already taken your own two—or several. It will give them confidence."

"I can do it," replied Patsy, and he went out.

After a little Nick heard the murmur of voices before the cabin, and he stepped to the door and opened it; and then he found that the men, without an exception, save those who were on guard at different places—he found that eighty men had formed in line, and were ready for the treat that had been promised them.

He carried out the two pails and stood them on the porch; and then with a dipper in one hand and a goblet in the other, he called out:

"Come up slow, now; one by one. Don't be in haste. Remember there are two drinks each, for you, and no more. These two pails will just about do it. I'm doing the trick for Black Madge, who happens to be busy just now."

And so they began the procession past him; and so he doled out the concoction he had arranged for them, and watched them gulp it down with evident relish; and he called out when he served the first drink:

"The orders are that each one of you, as soon as you have had your two drinks, shall go to your quarters and turn in. You are wanted to rest up, so that we can begin this search again, and find that fellow we are after. Come on, now. When you have taken your medicine, go to your bunks and turn in—all of you!"

And they came. Then they took their medicine, and so nicely had Nick calculated the quantity that would be required that there was scarcely a pint of the concoction left when they were through.

Many of them stopped long enough to beg for a third drink of it, and only once did Nick grant that request—to a big fellow for whom two might not be sufficient.

And within thirty minutes after that last one had passed the porch, that camp was as quiet as a church.



CHAPTER XVII.

A WHOLESALE ROUND-UP.

"Patsy," said the detective, when they reentered the cabin, after watching their punch consumed almost to the dregs, "this is about the biggest capture I was ever in."

"But we are not through yet, chief," replied the assistant, stroking the white beard he wore so naturally that Nick laughed aloud. "There are sixteen more men at liberty yet, and we have got the whole bunch to tie up. Don't forget that there are four men stationed at each of the outside entrances to——"

"Oh, I haven't forgotten it. We will serve them in the same way. All we have to do is to manufacture one more pail of punch. So here goes. And as for tying them up, that will hardly be necessary."

"Why?"

"They are good for twelve hours of solid sleep at the very least. Many of them will not waken in twenty-four hours."

"And maybe some of them will never wake up. How is that?"

"It is a chance that we had to take; but by restricting them to two drinks each, I figured that there would be no danger. No; I think we are all right. Now, help me make this extra pail of punch. After that we will carry it through the cavern to the different parties of four each."

"Suppose they get suspicious, and won't drink it?"

"No danger of that, my lad."

When the punch was made, they divided it into two lots, each carrying half, and, thus equipped, they again entered the cavern, this time just as daylight was beginning to appear.

The first party they selected to serve was the one farthest away, and the detective discovered that they were grumbling because they had not been relieved.

But when he appeared with the pail of punch, and told them what had happened—that every one had been served with the same thing—they forgot their sorrows and had their share as the others had taken theirs.

And here, in order to make doubly sure, Nick had given each of the drinks a larger dose of the sleeping draught than he had served in the valley. As soon as the men had drunk what was given them, and had been refused more, he left them, followed by Patsy, and returned through the cave to another entrance.

And here again the operation was repeated in the same manner, an idea of suspicion never once entering the head of any of the men; they were far too eager for the drink which the thoughtfulness of their mistress had provided for them.

"They'll be suspicious when they begin to feel drowsy all at once," suggested Patsy, as they moved away.

"Let them," replied Nick. "We won't be there, and not one of them will be able to go very far before he drops in a stupor. I have fixed it, all right."

They found the second party as eager as the first, and one of them already the worse for too many drinks from a bottle he had had in his pocket; but they took the medicine that Nick portioned out to them as the others had done, and they in turn were left alone to drop off to sleep as they would; for they had been awake all night, and now it was broad daylight. They figured that they deserved some sleep.

At the third entrance the four men were already asleep—all but one of them, and he was drowsing; and Nick, in his character of Handsome, pretended to be angry at first. He pretended to refuse to give them the punch that had been sent to them until they begged so hard that he finally relented.

"Why," said Patsy, when they left them, and took their way toward the fourth, and last, place—the hole under the Dog's Nose, near the place where Handsome and Madge were prisoners, "it's all as easy as living on a farm."

"And not half so interesting," laughed the detective.

They walked past the movable rock behind which the two prisoners were confined without so much as devoting a glance to it, for they were both intent upon accomplishing this last installment of capture through the medium of the laudanum; and here they found the four men who were on duty, just about ready to mutiny because they had not been relieved.

But the presence of Handsome—or the man they believed to be Handsome—quieted them at once, for they stood in wholesome dread of him and his anger; and when they understood what had been brought to them, they were ready for anything.

And so it was that in their turns they took their medicine as the others had done. When they had swallowed it, Nick said to them:

"Stretch out, now, you fellows, where you are. I'll let you sleep for a while, at least. I'm going to sit here and smoke. I am tired myself. Turner, sit down. We'll keep watch here for a spell."

The men did not require a second invitation, but speedily took advantage of the permission—and it was surprising how soon the laudanum took effect upon them.

Ten minutes had not elapsed before the four were sleeping soundly, and snoring as if they never expected to awake again.

"I think we can go now," said Nick, at last, rising.

"What is the next trick to be done?" asked Patsy.

"Let me see," replied Nick. "It's thirty miles from here to Calamont. How far is it to the railway track in a direct line? That is the way you came, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"How far is it?"

"About four miles, possibly. I can make it in an hour."

"Then skip. This is the nearest point to start from. Get to the track as soon as you can. Flag the first train that comes along, no matter what it is. Get aboard it, and go to the first station. Get off there, and use the telegraph operator. Have him wire to Mr. Cobalt, the president of the road, exactly what has happened. Ask Cobalt to send a special train to us from the nearest point. We will want about twenty officers to take charge of all these prisoners, and he had better send along some chains with padlocks on them. You can figure that out yourself. We will want to make chain gangs of these men, so that they can walk to the railway, but so that they are chained together and cannot escape. You've got the idea?"

"Yes."

"Go, then, and see how quickly you can get the officers here, and we can get this crew away from here."

"And you?"

"I'll stay here. Skip, now. Don't talk any more."

"Have I got to carry these whiskers with me?" grinned Patsy.

"You'd better not stop to remove them now. I put them on to stay. Go!"

And Patsy went.

Nick remained where he was for a while, thinking deeply, and altogether satisfied with what he had accomplished; but after a little he rose, and took his way back into the cave, intending to see what Handsome and Madge were doing, and if they were making any effort to free themselves.

But after he had reentered the cave, and had covered the twenty rods that intervened between it and the movable rock, he stopped in astonishment and stared.

The rock was pushed wide open.

With a bound he darted forward and entered the place, but only to find that Madge and Handsome had both disappeared. Their bonds were lying upon the floor of the cavern, but they were no longer there themselves.

Nick did not wait to see more than that then.

He turned away on a run, and darted through the galleries with all the speed he could summon under the circumstances—and he came out into the valley, where the sun was shining, directly behind his two escaped prisoners, for they had not preceded him by more than a minute, evidently.

With one wild spring he was upon them, and as Handsome turned to defend himself, Nick hit him with his fist, so that he sent him reeling across the grass, where he fell senseless to the earth.

But in the meantime Madge had turned with a scream of rage, and when she saw the real Handsome fall helpless, she broke into a run toward her own cottage, for she had no weapon to use now, Nick having deprived them both of their guns.

But the detective ran after her, and, just as she was about to leap upon the porch, he succeeded in seizing her, and in pulling her back again toward him.

She turned upon him then like a fury; but with a laugh he sprang under her extended arms, and seized her around the waist; and then he lifted her from her feet, and, still laughing, he ran across the grass to the cabin in which Patsy had once been a prisoner, and in another moment he had tossed her inside, closed the door and fastened it.

For a long time he could hear her storming in there, but he had to hurry back to Handsome, who was still down and out when he got to him, but who presently revived.

But he had all the fight taken out of him, and he allowed himself to be bound again securely, after which Nick led him to Madge's cabin, and tied him to one of the rustic chairs on the porch.

Including Black Madge and her first lieutenant, Handsome, there were one hundred and two prisoners turned over to be dealt with by the law when Patsy returned to the place in the hills, having piloted the officers who were sent by special train to complete the capture.

Black Madge did not see the detective again to speak to him; but she sent him a note, in which she said:

"I haven't done with you yet, Nick Carter. I will never forgive you for fooling me as you did. I shall manage to get my liberty again, somehow, some time, and when I do, it will be for the purpose of wreaking vengeance on you. And I will get even some day, never fear."



CHAPTER XVIII.

BLACK MADGE'S THREAT.

Nick Carter had entirely forgotten Black Madge's threat when he was forcibly reminded of it one morning by the following letter which he found on his breakfast table:

"NICK CARTER: One month ago—how time flies—I wrote to you that I hadn't done with you yet; that I would never forgive you, and that I would get even some day.

"That was a month ago. I thought when I wrote that it might take a year—but they are easy marks in this State.

"It was my hope after you captured me and all my followers, that I would have a chance to see you again, and to talk to you before I was taken away to prison. You would say probably that I wanted to boast; for a threat, after all, is only another kind of boasting. But it wasn't so, Nick Carter; I wanted to tell you what you had succeeded in doing; and this is it:

"You have succeeded in creating in me a passion which supersedes all others in my nature—the passion of hatred. Twice now you have foiled me; twice you have been successful in arresting me, and the latter of these two times you not only destroyed the organization which I had created, and rendered it utterly impotent for my future uses, but you destroyed almost at one blow every ambition that I had through that organization and by reason of it.

"You didn't know that, and you couldn't appreciate it; and it wouldn't matter at all to you if you had; neither has it anything to do with the purport of this letter.

"I know you will say that I am a fool to take the trouble to warn you, but I would be less than a woman, and much less than the bad woman I am, if I did not take this opportunity of exulting over the chance that is now promised to me to get square with you.

"Heretofore my every effort has been centred upon playing on my fellow men; heretofore I have had only two thoughts in pursuing my career; one was to create an organization of which I was the supreme head, and the other was to secure by the operation of that organization all the money that it was possible to obtain.

"I have always been a thief with a system. My robberies have all been committed after careful planning; you know that because of the one you helped to commit yourself. But now I have only one ambition left—to get square with you. I haven't decided yet how I shall do it, or when, or where it shall be done. If I had so decided I would not tell you, so it makes no difference.

"But I have been a hard student, Nick Carter, of many things. I have had good instructors in the science of mixing and using poisons; there is no person living to-day, man or woman—yourself included—who is a better marksman than I am with firearms; there is no person, man or woman, who is more adept to-day in the use of all weapons than I am. This is not boasting; it is fact.

"Moreover, I have the power to appear in many guises—disguises you might call them. In one or more of them—perhaps in many of them—I shall appear to you, and when you are least expecting it I shall strike.

"Don't think by that that I mean to strike you dead. That would not be making you suffer enough; but I shall find other and better ways in which to strike—ways that will make you suffer and realize what you did when you made me your enemy, and made me hate you as I do.

"And another thing; I have already set to work to bring together, as rapidly as I can find them, people who have criminal records and who have reason to hate you as I do; people whom you have pursued as you have pursued me; those whom you have sent to prison; those whose careers you have interrupted; those you have threatened; and those who have cause for holding a grudge against you.

"I have sought many of those, and I have found many. I am still seeking others, and I shall find more; and when I have got together enough of them, and have selected from that number those whom I deem most available for my purpose and competent to carry out my directions as I shall give them, I shall organize them into a Band of Hatred, the sole object of which shall be your undoing and, ultimately, your death.

"You have preyed too long already upon that class of humanity to which I belong, and from our standpoint your position is much the same as is our position from yours.

"You know me well enough, Nick Carter, to know that from this moment forward you will never be safe from danger for one moment of your life; whether you are sleeping or waking; whether you are afloat or ashore; whether you are quartered in the seclusion of your own study at home, or are abroad upon the streets of the city.

"You know that I do not threaten idly. You know that I am a woman with a purpose. You know that I am intelligent, educated, and determined. You know that I am a woman to be feared.

"I have thought this matter all over, and decided upon it during those hours when I was locked in the cabin up there in the hills, after you had drugged the men of my company, and succeeded in capturing us all.

"When I was taken to prison I knew that it would be only a short time before I would be able to make good my escape. How I have succeeded in accomplishing it does not matter. I have found one key in my experience that never fails to open prison locks, if it is properly applied; the fact that it is made of gold is sufficient explanation, and gold I had in plenty, for I have always been successful, and even now I have hoards concealed in different places which will supply me with funds more than sufficient to carry out to the bitter end this campaign of vengeance upon which I have determined.

"I think that is all.

"I shall leave here for New York City an hour after this letter is put in the mail. When you will see me first I do not know. BLACK MADGE."

The detective read this remarkable letter twice from beginning to end, and then he passed it in silence across the table to Chick, who was seated opposite to him.

And Chick also read it twice in silence, and as silently returned it. Nick, realizing that Ten-Ichi and Patsy would also fall under the sweeping hatred of Black Madge, tossed it over to them with the direction that they read it also.

There was not one among them who felt like making any comment upon the letter, or its contents, at least until their chief had spoken; but presently, with a gesture to Chick, which meant that he was to follow him as soon as he had finished his breakfast, the detective left the table and went to his study.

It was only a few moments after that when Chick entered the room, smiling.

"I hope, Nick," he said, dropping into a chair near the window and lighting a cigar, "that you enjoyed the reading of that letter from Madge?"

The detective was silent a moment before he replied, and then quite slowly he said:

"So far as I am personally concerned, Chick, the letter or its contents has no more effect upon me than the snapping of your fingers, but I will confess that I am in some dread concerning what she might do to you, and to Ten-Ichi and Patsy."

Chick leaned back in his chair and laughed aloud.

"If you will excuse me for saying so," he remarked, "that is utter nonsense. Of course, the boys downstairs and I are quite capable of taking care of ourselves."

"I don't doubt that," said Nick, "but that is not exactly the point."

"What is, then?"

"You have forgotten one part of her letter," said Nick.

"What part?"

"That part wherein she speaks about making me suffer, rather than attempting to do me physical harm."

"Oh! I haven't forgotten it."

"Do you understand what she means by that, Chick?"

"Certainly."

"Let me hear if you do."

"Well, she probably means that it would be her first effort to make you suffer by injuring those whom you love—in other words, by doing something or other to one of us. But forewarned is forearmed, and, anyhow, I don't think it behooves any of us to be afraid of a woman."

"This is a case," said Nick, "where a woman is much more dangerous than a man. A man would fight out in the open; a woman will fight in the shadow; or, at least, such a woman as that will. She is a pretty bad one, Chick, and a grave foe."

Chick nodded.

"It is always best," continued the detective, "to give your enemy or your adversaries credit for every advantage they possess. Black Madge is a wonderfully smart woman, and is unprincipled and implacable as she is smart. She will halt at nothing to carry out her design of vengeance, and just as sure as you are sitting there, Chick, we will presently feel the surety of that threat."

Chick flicked the ashes from his cigar, and then strode across the room to the window, where he stood for a moment looking out.

"I don't see exactly what we are going to do to head her off before she begins," he said presently.

"There is nothing to do," replied Nick gloomily.

"Upon my word," said Chick, laughing, "one would think that you were more than usually affected by that letter from Madge. Do you really take it so seriously as all that?"

"I take it seriously," replied the detective, "because I so well understand what the woman means, and she means just what she says. Instead of going on evenly and living the life we have been living, we must not be for an instant off our guard from this day on, until she is again behind the bars, and I hope the next time I arrest her it will be within the limits of the State of New York, where I can place a watch over her so that she will not escape."

"And I hope so, too," said Chick.

"And now, in the meantime," continued Nick, smiling, "since we have this letter and know what she is about to do, I think we will meet her halfway, and not wait for her to open the ball. Since she is at liberty, we will set about capturing her at once."



CHAPTER XIX.

THE BAND OF HATRED.

Down on the East Side of New York, in Rivington Street, and some distance east of the Bowery, on the second floor of one of the oldest buildings in the city, a remarkable meeting was being held during the night that followed the receipt of Madge's letter by Nick Carter.

In a room on this floor, which was brilliantly lighted by four gas jets blazing from the chandelier, nine people were seated. They were gathered along two sides of the room, in which was a centre table, and behind this table was Black Madge.

Before her on the table were various sheets of letter paper, which she had turned from a pad one after another as she made notes upon them, and in her hand she held a pencil which ever and anon flew rapidly over the paper while she recorded such information concerning those who were present with her as she cared to remember.

They had been present in that room for upward of an hour, and during that time Madge had questioned each one of the eight who faced her concerning the statements they had made, and which she had noted.

Now she leaned back in her chair, and, holding one of the sheets of paper in her hand, she said:

"Stand up, Scar-faced Johnny, and answer the questions I shall ask you."

One of them, a short, stocky, red-headed, brutalized being, who was almost as broad as he was long, leaped to his feet, thrust his hands deeply into his pockets, and with his chin stuck forward aggressively, waited.

"You hate Nick Carter, do you, Johnny?" Madge asked.

"I hate him like poison."

"And you would kill him if you could?"

"I'd cut his throat in half a minute if I was sure of not being caught."

"Tell me again why you hate him so."

"Ain't he sent me twice to prison? Once for four years and once for three. And the last time he done it didn't he hand me a welt alongside of the jaw that I'll never forget? A man can't hit me like that and have me love him afterward. You just show me the way to do it, Black Madge, and I'll lay him out cold—so cold that he'll never get over it again. All I want is a chance."

"All right," said Madge, "take your seat.

"Now, Slippery Al, you stand up. What's your line of graft, Slippery?"

Slippery, who was tall, and sallow, and lean, and unkempt, and who looked consumptive and otherwise unwholesome, grinned sheepishly, as he replied:

"I reckon my name ought to answer that question. I slips in and I slips out where I can and when I can, and picks up anything that's lying around."

Madge laughed scornfully.

"You don't look as if you had sense enough to hate anybody or anything," she said.

"Oh, I hate Nick Carter, right enough," was the unhesitating reply.

"Why do you hate him?"

"Because he sent my father and my mother and my two brothers to prison, and they're all there now, and they weren't doing a thing that interfered with him in any way."

"What were they doing?" asked Madge.

"Well, if you want to know it straight, Black Madge, they was running a little counterfeit plant of their own—making dimes and quarters and a few half dollars for some of us to blow in when we couldn't find the real rhino."

"Running a counterfeit plant, eh?"

"That's it, marm."

"And Nick Carter sent them all to prison, did he?"

"He did that."

"How does it happen that he didn't send you along with them?"

"Well, I managed to slip out just in time," said Slippery, with one of his sheepish grins; "but he sent a bullet after me when I was running away that singed the hair over my right ear, and taking it all in all I hate him about as much as anybody."

"Not enough to kill him if I should ask you to do it, do you?"

"Well, Madge, when it comes to killing, that ain't in my line; but if you want me to lead him on somehow where somebody else could do the job, I think I'd be about the covey that could do it."

"That'll do for you. Sit down, Slippery."

"What's your name?" she added to the man who was next him.

A dark, beetle-browed, heavy-jawed, coarse-featured man, who looked as if he was as powerful as a giant, rose slowly to his feet, and replied in a surly tone, and with an ugly glitter in his eyes:

"I have got about forty names; leastwise, the police say I have; but they as knows me best calls me Bob for short; sometimes they fixes it up a little by calling it Surly Bob. But I think that Bob will do for you."

"What have you got against Nick Carter, Surly Bob?" asked Madge, smiling. She liked the looks of this hard-featured individual. He was just brutal enough in his appearance to satisfy her ideas of what a man should be.

Bob deliberately took a huge chew of tobacco into his mouth before he replied, and then, with a slow and almost bovine indifference, he responded:

"I don't know as it makes much difference to you, Black Madge, what I hate him for as long as I do hate him, and I'm bound to get square with him some day, whether I do it in connection with this organization that you're getting together or on my own hook without the help of any of you," and he glanced defiantly around. "It's enough that I do hate him. He's done enough to me to make me hate him. It's enough that if I had him alone in this room to-night one of us would never leave it alive unless he got the best of me without killing me, for I would certainly do him if I got half a chance.

"But I'll tell you one thing about him that maybe it will do some of you good to hear, for I give you fair warning that you want to give Nick Carter a wide berth unless you can manage somehow to catch him foul. He's about as strong as three horses, and if he ever succeeds in getting his grip on you you're gone. I'm about as tough as they make them, but I'm a wee baby in Nick Carter's hands, and don't any of you forget it."

"Tell us the story," said Madge.

"Oh, it ain't no story; it's just a short account. We ran into each other once near the front door of a bank I had gone into after hours and without the permission of the president and board of directors. When I picked myself up from the middle of the street after he grabbed me there was a crack in the top of my skull which didn't get well for three months. That's all I've got to say about it, but I want to add this: If that fellow Slippery Al, who says killing ain't in his line, but leading astray is, wants to bring Nick Carter my way, and will fetch him along so as I can get him foul, I'll fix him for keeps, and no questions asked."

And Surly Bob sat down.

He had no sooner taken his seat than the individual next to him sprang up without waiting to be asked to do so. If you had encountered this individual along Broadway or on Fifth Avenue in New York City, you might not have devoted a second glance to him; but if you had, and still had not studied him closely, you would not have thought him other than a gentleman.

His features were handsome or would have been handsome were it not for the crafty and shifty expression of his eyes and the otherwise insincerity that was manifest in his face. Among his companions of the underworld he was known far and near as Gentleman Jim.

By profession he was what is known as a confidence man, although it was said of him that he had the courage to take any part that might be required of him in preying upon the world at large.

He had been known to assist, and to do it well, at a bank robbery. He had once lived for some time in Chicago as a highwayman. It was said of him that in his youth he had begun his career of crime by rustling cattle in the far West, and that he was as quick and as sure with a gun as any "bad man" of that region.

His attire was immaculate and in the height of fashion. He was clean shaven, and he wore eyeglasses which gave to him somewhat of a professional look, and which he had been heard to say were excellent things to hide the expression in a man's eyes.

In stature he was tall, rather broad, and extremely well built. In short, Madge looked upon him when he rose with undoubted admiration in her eyes, as if she believed that here was a man who could be anything he chose to be in the criminal world.

When he spoke it was in an evenly modulated tone of voice which might have done excellent service in a drawing-room; and, moreover, his voice was pleasant to listen to.

"I suppose you would like to hear from me, as well as from the others, Madge," he said slowly. "I haven't got very much to say, except that I don't take much stock in boasted hatreds. Where I was raised, and where I began my career—and I am not particularly proud of that career—when we hated anybody we rarely said much about it, but I will say this to you, and to the others who are here: I am very glad that this organization is being perfected. I am very glad that some concerted action is to be taken against this man, Nick Carter, who has come pretty near putting us all out of business. You all know who I am, and some of you have got a pretty good idea what I am. Nick Carter knows about as much about me as any of you, which, after all is said, is next to nothing at all. But I have been on a still hunt for Mr. Nick Carter for some time, and when I get him in a position which Surly Bob calls foul, I shan't wait to send to any of you for assistance. I'll do the rest myself."

"And now you," said Madge, fixing her eyes upon the individual who was seated next to Gentleman Jim "Rise in your place and tell us your name, and make us a little speech, as the others have done."

"My name is Cummings—Fly Cummings, I'm called. Some of the bunch here knows me and some don't. Those that do know me don't need to be told anything about me, and those that don't know me are just as well off. I'm in business for myself, and always have been. The world owes me a living, and it's been paying it pretty regular ever since I was sixteen years old, and I'm now coming sixty-two. I'm like the others here in one respect: I've got a grudge against the man we've been talking about. I've never been able to make him feel it, because I've always fought mighty shy of him rather than get within his reach; but when I heard that this here movement had been started going by you, Madge, and the word was passed around among the guns downtown that you wanted a few of us that hated Nick Carter to come to the captain's office and form a little organization, it struck me that it was just about the right thing to do. I've heard what Surly Bob had to say, and I know that Surly isn't the sort of chap that's in the habit of talking through his hat. If Surly Bob had it in for me I'd patronize the New York Central Railroad, and take a train out of town right away.

"I've heard what Gentleman Jim had to say, and if Jim was looking for my gore to-night, I'd take a steamer across the ocean or commit suicide, because I'd know I couldn't get away from him in any other way.

"I've heard what Slippery Al had to say, and while Slippery ain't of much account, he's about the nastiest toad that ever picked a pocket, and I wouldn't care to have him down on me.

"And as for Scar-faced Johnny, well, Johnny is a bad one, too. I ain't making any threats particularly, Madge, but I'm willing to join this organization, or I wouldn't be here, and I want to say now that when you're fixing up the business, and arrange for the signals so that we can summons each other when we want them, I'll do my part to the tune of compound interest; and I guess that'll be about all from me."

The sixth man of the party, who was the next to get upon his feet, had the stamp of prison life all over him. His face bespoke the pallor which is acquired in no other place in the world, and the vicious, shifty, sneaking gleam in his eyes spoke well of the craftiness which is the result of long confinement under the domination of brutal guards and turnkeys.