II
Clement, in rage, tore at the door of the car, opened it and made to leap out.
The detective gripped his arm. The driver, leaning back over the seat, joined the detective in that grip.
“Here, Steve,” snapped the driver. “You quit that.”
“We can get to these buildings in time—but we must hurry,” snapped Clement angrily, trying to struggle free.
“You can not,” said the driver. “You can get up to your occiputt in enduring mud, Steve, an’ that’ll be about the limit o’ your carnal activities. What we’ve hit is a slime lake. That mine dumped into here, see? It’s probably a little more solid than water, but more uneasy to swim in, see?”
“But—but—man, we must do something....” cried Clement.
“Sure, Steve, but with circumspuction. As we ain’t sinking no more, we have a sure base or deepo’ to work from. By workin’ cautious....”
“And while we are being cautious—with our lights full on—what will be happening at that mine, my good chap?”
“Not much,” said the driver. “A coyote prowling round, a bat flutterin’ hither an’ thither.... Not much more, Steve. This mine is an abandoned mine, Steve. C’n tell that by the surface o’ th’ slime....”
“An abandoned mine,” snapped Clement in an edgy voice. “But that’s just the place....”
“Moreover, Steve,” said the driver. “Moreover, our pals in the forward car did not go to or enter said abandoned mine. Take that as law, Steve. For why—I saw their headlights flash on the building and pass. I saw them lights turn beyond a big outcrop of rock further on, going away left, Steve, turning their back on that old mine.”
“They’ve gone on?” gasped Clement, in a tone of despair.
“They sure have,” said the driver. “An’ it’s no good feelin’ sore about it. Circumstances is just gone bad on us, an’ that’s that. No call fer chasing a Hudson Six to Baffin Bay on the unaided feet.”
Clement, his eyes still fixed on the point in the darkness where the red light had vanished, dropped back into his seat. “What exactly happened?” he asked, more in a groan than anything else.
“We got bogged,” said the driver, with a touch of irony. “I was the tin horn, an’ well, we got bogged. See how it is? That trail takes a sharp loop round this lake. I came round in a crazy hurry, missed that tail light—then I picked it up dead ahead—that was when they picked up th’ straight again after getting round th’ lake. Me being that tin horn, I took me eyes off the trail for a fleck and drove right ahead instead o’ goin’ round. And—and, well, Steve, we was well and duly bogged.”
Clement groaned. Again, through the veriest slip, he had lost his chance of saving the girl Heloise.
“If they’d planned it, they couldn’t have beat us to it better,” said the driver, with a curse.
“Perhaps they did plan it,” said the detective Gatineau softly and suddenly.
“Eh,” gasped Clement; “but, of course, they didn’t do that. How could they know we....”
“Then why are they turning back?” said the detective. “There, abreast of us between those two rocks....”
Clement and the driver swung their eyes to the left. Between the two rocks, distantly, they saw the glow of automobile lamps. They shone steadily. Then the rocks hid them as they moved. Without a word the men in the bogged car sat staring into the darkness, searching it for those glowing lights. They came again from behind a rock. Now they were well to the rear. The significance of those lights was unmistakable.
“They’ve circled,” said Clement.
“You’re damn right,” said the driver angrily. “They’re heading to cut the trail behind. They’re going to make Cobalt again by the same road.”
Before he could say another word Clement was out of the car. He plunged desperately, slime or no slime. He went down over his knees in the viscid stuff. He jumped forward. He found a shelf of rock, strode off it, again up to his knees. He went on. He slipped and half fell in a deeper pocket, and with the effort of recovery found himself on ground that was but shin deep. He plunged forward, and a bush whipped his faces. He was on solid ground at once.
He ran back along the trail until he met the face of the rock where the turn had been so disastrous to them. At this he sprang, clambering upwards. It was a hard, steep climb, but he was glad of it. The higher it was, the more commanding a position it would give him. He knew he was at the summit by the sudden sight of the departing car lights he obtained. But even as he scrambled erect those lights disappeared, leaving a faint, moving glow only.
Clement followed that steadily with his eyes. Then as the lights abruptly flamed into view, his hand went up, and the automatic pistol in it spoke and spoke again. As he fired, the lights disappeared, and he wondered if he had hit. They came again, and again he fired. He emptied his clip and jerked out an exclamation of anger as he reached into his pocket for a fresh magazine. As he did that, the lights vanished once more.
He heard a man panting by his side, and the detective Gatineau’s voice said, “Too far and too dark for fine shooting, Mr. Seadon, I’m afraid. Also it’s quite illegal.”
And even as he said that, his own automatic was pumping off, to be joined at least ten seconds later by the snap of Clement’s pistol.
But the darkness and the distance were against them. Both men fired once more when the lights showed, but the car appeared to go steadily and calmly on its course. Soon it swung into the trail, and all that could be seen of it was the up flung haze of its great lamps. Presently even that was lost, though they could hear on the almost preternaturally silent air the drone of the car’s engines as they dwindled and sank into the distance.
“Yes, you were right. It was planned and we were deliberately tricked,” said Clement harshly, as he turned to clamber down to the car, and he did not, indeed could not, speak again, so hot was his anger against himself. When he reached the edge of the slime lake, within hailing distance of the stranded car, he called to the driver. “It was a trap, after all. A trap to maroon me out here miles away from anywhere——”
“About forty miles from Cobalt station, anyhow, Steve,” said the driver. “Forty miles, if it’s an inch.”