17

In silence they straggled back to the room where the yucca fire had died down to a dull glow which would last another hour or so before the interior of the tunnel was again in utter blackness.

The outlaws were in a dazed, cursing mood at this sudden blow from Fate. A moment ago they had been sitting on top of the world with a fortune in gold in their hands; and now they were prisoners in the very bowels of the earth, facing starvation and death.

To the Rio Kid, it seemed a grimly ironic jest that things had worked out this way. For the outlaws, he felt that it was nothing more than retributive justice; yet there was no way to justify Ramona Navarro being included with them … nor the fact that Joe Elliot, who was as mean as the meanest of the outlaws, had escaped to become their jailor.

The Kid was the only one among them who viewed the situation with entire calmness. Ever since yesterday morning when he was beaten in the saloon fight, he had realized that he had little chance of getting out of the treasure hunt alive. A short time previously, he and Ramona had been cooped up together in the tunnel with Elliot at one end and Colter’s gang at the other … and immediately prior to the disaster he had been looking squarely into the face of death. Even if Slim-Jim had been honest about letting him escape, Elliot would have gotten him, unarmed as he was, or Pete, waiting at the other end without instructions from either Slim-Jim or Colter to allow him to go free.

So, this new development left him wholly untouched, except for the girl.

Taking her cue from him, Ramona stayed close to his side, accepting what came with the fortitude of her race. Like the Kid, she had given up hope when Slim-Jim took him down the tunnel with the avowed intention of executing him, and this new complication seemed more in the nature of a reprieve than a disaster to her.

Lem Colter was in a murderously ugly mood when he fully understood what had happened. It was Pete’s fault, he declared angrily, for not staying up on top of the cliff where Slim-Jim had posted him, and keeping that way of escape open.

Crouched on his haunches beyond the glowing embers of the fire, Pete’s temper flared dangerously in response to Colter’s accusation. With his hands on his guns, he growled back at the leader that he didn’t trust the rest of them down with the gold, and he had come down to get his share.

On Pete’s left, Pancho’s bulky figure was blended with the shadows, hiding stealthy movement as he crept around behind the gunman’s back … and firelight gleamed on a half-drawn knife in his hand.

Someone had kicked the skull of the long-dead priest into the circle of light in their goings and comings, and the scene was a tableau of death with the grinning skull lying on the floor before them, with nerves strained and tense in the presence of more gold than any of them had ever dreamed of seeing, with their way to freedom blocked, and thrown into close bodily contact in the small room. And soon the last glowing ember of the yucca bush would die out, leaving them in thick black darkness.

The Kid realized that the actions of the men were no more than an indication of what might be expected later when the specter of starvation stalked among them and the last vestige of hope had fled.

He held Ramona’s arm tightly and said nothing as Pete began reviling Colter, working himself up into a killing rage which was sure to end in exploding guns.

Colter stood before the fire with his arms stiffly folded, not making the mistake of reaching for a gun against Pete’s deadly draw, but giving Pancho time to get around behind Pete where he could use his knife.

It was Slim-Jim who broke the silence and brought both men back to their senses. Standing against the wall a little beyond Ramona and watching the scene alertly, he drawled:

“Killing each other isn’t going to help us out of this tunnel. We all know you’re fast on the draw, Pete, but there’s three of us against you. And it won’t do any good for you to curse him, Lem. He may have been negligent in his duty by coming down into the tunnel, but I daresay no other man could have withstood the same temptation to come down for a look at the gold. So … you, Pancho! Stop right where you are. Don’t look around now, Pete, but there’s a knife blade close to your throat. And … all of you, take a good look at that skull lying on the floor there. That’s what you’ll all be looking like if you don’t keep your heads.”

Pete froze into instant immobility, fear glazing his bloodshot eyes. Lem Colter cleared his throat after a glance at Slim-Jim. Every eye was concentrated on the grinning skull, then Colter uttered an oath and kicked it through the opening into the darkness.

He said, placatingly, “I’m sorry I flew off the handle, Pete. I didn’t mean them cusswords.”

“’Sail right,” Pete said with relief, relaxing and moving a cautious step away from too close proximity with Pancho’s knife. “I reckon I shoulda stayed up on top, but hell! how was I tuh know this would happen?”

“Exactly.” Slim-Jim continued to pour oil on troubled waters. “You didn’t know, Pete. And it’s partially the fault of Lem and Pancho, too. If they hadn’t been in such a hurry to explore the tunnel they would have followed Elliot when they jumped him at the other end … and then none of this would have happened.”

“Thass right,” Colter muttered. “Fightin’ among ourselves ain’t gonna help none. What we gotta figger is a way out. Come on away from Pete, Pancho. Pete ain’t goin’ tuh throw lead yet a while.”

The half-breed muttered his disappointment at not having a chance to spill blood, and came back to squat close to the red coals which were fast blackening around the edges.

Thus, that first immediate danger was averted. But the Kid knew it was only the first of such deadly situations that could be expected if they stayed imprisoned in the tunnel for long.

There was no actual friendliness between any of the quartet of outlaws, and any one of them might turn upon the other at any time. They had been held together for some time under the loose leadership of Lem Colter because each had realized that was their best chance of getting a cut of the treasure if the Navarros found it, but now that reason was past, and henceforth it was going to be every man for himself … and the gold.

So the Kid wisely remained in the background with Ramona, keeping their attention from him, biding his time until strained nerves broke into open gunplay and death reduced the odds against Ramona and himself.

Stepping to Colter’s side, Slim-Jim said persuasively: “There’s just one man outside. There are four of us until we lose control of ourselves and start killing each other. With this gold at stake, I don’t propose to give up. We can’t do much in the daylight, but isn’t there a chance that one of us might get down to the bottom of the canyon under cover of darkness, and then climb back up the bank and surprise Elliot?”

“Not without uh rope,” Colter rumbled, and Pete simplified: “Not less’n one of us has got mountain goat blood in his veins. I don’t reckon a lizard could get down that cliff from thuh ledge.”

The Rio Kid started to say something, then checked his words. He was thinking of that first rope which had been let down, the one that had broken under his weight. It had dropped to the ledge and he was quite sure it was still there, unnoticed by the others. He knew that it wasn’t long enough to reach to the bottom, but it might go down to where a man could get a foothold … or it might be possible to unravel a strand.

Aloud, he said, “If you fellers ain’t got no objections I think Ramon and me’ll go see can I pull my guns in off the ledge ’thout gettin’ killed. An I’ll be lookin’ over the lay of the cliff down below.”

Colter started to voice an emphatic “no” to the Kid’s suggestion that he re-arm himself, but Slim-Jim interjected:

“Why not, Lem? I don’t think either Fisher or the boy will go very far. And things are different from what they were an hour ago. Instead of the two being our prisoners, we’re all prisoners together. In other words, their desire to escape is now linked with ours. I say let Fisher get his guns if he can. If we manage to get out of this trap, it will be time enough to take care of Fisher and the boy.”

“Shore,” Pete growled. “Let ’im buckle on his shootin’ irons. If he starts anything funny, I’ll settle his hash.”

“Come on,” The Rio Kid said to Ramona when Colter hesitated. No one made any move to stop them as they went out in the tunnel together.

When they were safely out of earshot, Ramona declared: “I think Señor Slim-Jim wants to help us.”

“He wants to keep the others from findin’ out yo’re a gal,” the Kid agreed. “He wants you for himself,” he warned the girl flatly.

She kept pace with him, pressing close to his side to avoid the rough rock wall. “I do not understand why it is so, but I trust Señor Slim-Jim,” she said gravely. “I think he would help us to get away if he could.”

The Kid didn’t understand why her defense of Slim-Jim should arouse such unreasonable anger inside of him, but he could not refrain from asking her grimly:

“Do you think he was being a lot of help when he took me down to the other end to put a bullet through my head? If Elliot hadn’t sent them rocks down just when he did, the buzzards’d be picking my bones right now.”

He felt her body shudder against him, but she insisted stubbornly: “I cannot believe he would have killed you. There was something in the look he gave me when he took you away.”

“Sure, I know he was makin’ eyes at yuh,” the Kid exploded. “But I didn’t think you’d be took in by him so easy. He’s an outlaw … a killer.…”

“Like … Señor Rio Kid?” she asked softly.

The Kid ground his teeth angrily. After all, he had walked directly into that trap. Ramona was right. He was no better than Slim-Jim or any of the Colter gang. He was an outcast just as they were. Who was he to cast slurs on Slim-Jim?

After a time, he said: “I deserved that, Ramona. I admit Slim-Jim’s diffrunt from the others. But I’m still plannin’ on savin’ you from all of ’em. Somehow, some way, I’m gonna get you outta this. If you still like Slim-Jim after it’s all over, that’ll be yore business.”

Her fingers pressed his arm tightly. “I trust you will not be angry because I said what I thought.”

“Nope, I ain’t mad. We’re all in a tight spot, an’ ever’body has gotta do his dang best to get us out.”

They were approaching the blur of light through the junipers, and the Kid slowed his pace, dropping his voice to a whisper:

“We gotta take it slow an’ easy so Elliot won’t hear us. I unbuckled my belts on the ledge outside. If I can find a stick, maybe I can drag ’em in ’thout gettin’ a bullet through my head.”

“You will be careful, Señor,” Ramona whispered tautly as they went forward on tiptoe. “If anything happened to you …”

“Then you’d still have Slim-Jim,” the Kid reminded her with assumed cheerfulness. He put her hand from his arm and pressed her back against the wall, then crept forward stealthily.

Intense stillness blanketed the hot sunny ledge beyond the screening junipers. It was difficult to keep in mind the fact that a man lay on the edge of the cliff directly overhead waiting to rain leaden death down on anyone who ventured out of the cave.

The Kid’s belts and holstered guns lay just beyond the junipers where Slim-Jim had disarmed him. Not much more than an arm’s reach outside. The Kid had to fight himself to withstand the temptation to make a sudden grab for the weapons.

A few feet beyond the belts was the rope where it had fallen in a tangle after it broke. He squatted back under the overhanging rock and considered the situation coolly.

He wanted to get that rope as badly as he wanted his guns.

After long consideration during which not the slightest sound betrayed the presence of Elliot above, he noted a long juniper branch that he could reach without exposing himself. He drew out a pocket knife and opened the long blade, then began the tedious job of hacking off the tough branch.

It broke finally with a sharp crack, and he jerked it toward him quickly, but there was still only utter silence outside.

He began to feel a little foolish about his extreme care as he squatted back on his heels and began trimming the branch. Perhaps Joe Elliot had ridden away, and all these precautions were absurd. What a joke it would be if they were all shrinking back under cover when there wasn’t anything to prevent them from stepping out onto the ledge boldly and picking up the rope and tossing a loop up over the edge until it caught on a rock.

The sudden hope fired his imagination. Here were he and Ramona away from the others. If Elliot wasn’t up there with a gun trained downward, they were wasting a precious chance to escape and keep the others captives.

There was such a thing, he told himself, as being cowardly cautious. With that thought, he laid aside the stick and knife, got to his knees and turned his face upward, slowly and carefully pushing his head out to get a look upward.

He heard Ramona’s gasp of fright behind him when she saw what he was doing, but he waved his hand at her for silence and pushed his head out farther and farther.

A thunderous explosion erupted between canyon walls. Lead-nicked rock spanged in front of his nose, and he jerked his head back.

Joe Elliot had the advantage and was keeping it. This time he finished trimming the juniper branch, then pushed the end out on the ledge with infinite caution, and after three abortive attempts managed to snag the lariat and drag it in where he could safely reach it.

He quickly pulled his shirttail out and began wrapping it around his waist, pulling his shirt down over it and tucking the tails back in his pants.

While he was completing this maneuver, Ramona came close to him and whispered: “Hurry, I hear someone coming.”

“Don’t tell them about the rope. That’s got to be our secret.” He turned away and picked up the stick again, began angling for one of his belts.

Rapid footsteps came along the tunnel, and Slim-Jim’s voice was pitched low close to his ear:

“I just remembered something. Seems to me there was a rope lying out on the ledge when you and I first came down. Do you see it there?”

The Kid was pulling in one of his belts. Without turning his head, he said: “It shore ain’t there now. You can see for yoreself.”

He began reaching for the other belt while Slim-Jim cautiously parted the foliage and looked out. “I see it isn’t.” He sounded much disappointed. “I thought you and I might get it and not tell the others. They are not going to be easy to handle if we stay in here very long. They were quarreling about the division of the gold when I left them.”

The Kid stood up calmly, conscious of the bulge beneath his shirt. He buckled on his gunbelts and said sharply:

“Now I don’t feel undressed no more. And I’m tellin’ you I ain’t trustin’ you no further’n any of them others. Yo’re after the gold and Ramona … and I ain’t aimin’ for you to get neither one.”

Slim-Jim stood looking him squarely in the eyes for a moment. Both men were breathing heavily. Then he nodded and stepped back. “If that’s the way you want it, Rio Kid. And I’m warning you the same thing. I don’t intend that you shall have either the gold or the girl.”

For a long moment they measured each other; the Rio Kid angered to the point of reckless daring, feeling that for the first time since he encountered the gang in the saloon he had a fair advantage. Slim-Jim’s eyes were cold and inscrutable.

Slim-Jim turned slowly and went back into the tunnel.

As the sound of his footsteps died away, the Kid heard a stifled sob from Ramona. He turned in amazement and saw that she was crying.

“Oh, you should not have done that, Señor Rio Kid. I know that you shouldn’t. He wanted to be friendly.”

The Kid growled, “Damn him and his friendliness,” but he suddenly regretted his harsh actions. All at once it came to him that he was jealous of the interest Ramona was showing in Slim-Jim … and he was more regretful, for he was half-tempted to believe that the slender young dandy did want to be friendly.