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Updated: May 22, 2025
"It is a a lie!" screamed Louis Vorlange, but his looks belied him. "It is the truth, gentlemen, he is the man who once sported under the name of Captain Mull. But that is not all." "What else, Pawnee?" "Some years ago a man by the name of Andrew Rickwell was murdered in the Last Chance hotel at Creede. At that time Creede was but a small place and Captain Mull ran the hotel.
Now tell the truth." Pawnee Brown saw the manner of man he had to deal with and tapped his pistol. Instantly Powell Dike fell upon his knees. "Don't don't shoot me!" he whined. "I'll tell all everything. I am not dead positive, but but I guess Louis Vorlange robbed Arbuckle." Pawnee Brown looked at Mortimer Arbuckle to see what effect this declaration might have upon Dick's father.
With hasty steps Vorlange made his way along the fork of the ravine until the opening proper was reached. Here he settled himself in a tree to watch for Pawnee Brown's possible coming. But, as we know, the scout did not move in that direction. For over two hours Nellie was left alone, a prey to the keenest mental torture it is possible to imagine.
"I know my meat," he added, significantly, to Vorlange, meaning that he had not forgotten the reward offered if, in a battle he should lay Pawnee Brown and Dick low. At the words Vorlange nodded. "When will the reinforcements be up this way?" asked Ross. "I have already sent word to headquarters," answered Vorlange. "The lieutenant is sure to respond without delay."
He remembered how on more than one occasion his father had sent money to the West after a letter had come which had upset him greatly. That must have been hush money, to keep this rascal quiet. "I I do not believe you!" he cried in a faint tone. "My father is as upright as any gentleman in the land." "Is he?" sneered Vorlange. "All right, if you think so, just drive me to the wall and see."
Those of Dick's father related to the mine in Colorado and were evidently those stolen by Louis Vorlange upon the night of the opening of this tale. The letters belonging to the government spy were epistles addressed to Vorlange from a former friend and partner in various shady transactions. Of these we will hear more later.
But what shall I do just now?" "Follow Vorlange and spy on to him all yer can. It ain't no ust ter hurry matters, with your father flat on his back. Powell will remain here and Vorlange will be with the cavalry, so yer will know whar ter clap eyes on ter both of 'em if it's necessary."
They could now see the flare of the torch plainly, for Vorlange was less than thirty feet away. Presently the spy uttered a low cry of pleasure. He had found several footprints, where Dick had slipped from a rock into the dirt. Now he came straight for them, waving the torch above his head that it might throw its light to a greater distance. "So there you are!"
Tiptoeing their way across the veranda, which was deserted, they soon found themselves close to the open window mentioned. "And so that is settled," they heard the man from New York remark. "I am glad to hear it, Vorlange." Vorlange! Dick started and so did Jack Rasco. The boy was trying to think where he had heard it before. Ah, he had it now.
"I'm in a hurry, Powell, but I'll take one glass," concluded Louis Vorlange, and the two men hurried from the reading-room. "He is the man I feel certain of it!" burst from Dick's lips, when he felt safe to speak. "Rasco, there is some mystery here. My father " He stopped short and bit his lip. "I know wot's in yer mind, Dick.
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