“In three hours they will be climbing the mountain by way of the old Yaqui trail we followed,” Jack was telling his chum, when the other returned to his side, flushed with the success of his labors. “It is time for us to make a forward move, so that we may be ready to strike as soon as the camp quiets down and corral our man, leaving it to Morales to carry the fort itself by storm.”
This they set about doing without any further delay. Dodging from rock to rock, taking advantage of every outlying spur, as well as patches of hardy bushes, and other objects that were likely to conceal their movements from any watchful eyes but always creeping downward, they crawled along like two great lizards such, as Perk could remember seeing when in the Philippines.
By the time they were ready to slip into the underground pressroom of the lawless printing company’s plant, Jack figured the three hours had just about expired, and that it was now up to them to make the first hostile move that would precipitate the assault.
In thus deciding to make a start he was influenced by seeing an agreed upon signal from the same hiding place he and Perk had held for so many hours, and which told him the troopers had finally succeeded in climbing to the position assigned to them when plans for action were formed.
Flattening themselves out against the dark wall of a small cliff Jack and Perk glided along until they arrived at that aperture in the solid rock they knew to be the entrance to the wonderful underground retreat that had been described by Simeon at the time when in his desperation he gave his confederates away and from which they had watched Slippery Slim come and go during those long hours of their espionage.
Slipping inside, they found themselves in a corridor that led into the body of the mountain with a gleam of light beckoning them to advance. In this fashion they kept moving, gliding from one point to another, until eventually they had a clear view of the little machine that was working so industriously in turning out the bogus money, hour after hour, as though the demand were without limit.
How Perk did stare, and hold his breath when realizing that they were upon the verge of accomplishing their great undertaking. Slippery Slim was doing no actual manual labor himself, but he kept close watch over the two men who ran the press, closely scrutinizing the printed bills as if to detect the slightest inaccuracy, and correct it without delay.
No wonder, Jack told himself, the product of his skill had startled the financial world by its genuine appearance, when such a master in his particular line took such personal pains to see that the work was carried out in its most minute details.
In whispers Jack informed his backer what his duty would be when the roar of guns and hoarse shouts from without announced that the picked troopers had actually launched their long deferred assault. Jack had taken it upon himself to close in on the chief worker in that little coterie, and have the glory of capturing Slippery Slim unaided but meanwhile Perk might find plenty of action in holding up those two others who were second in importance only to the leading figure.
The tension had become almost unendurable when suddenly there broke out a frightful uproar—women were shrieking, children’s high pitched voices told of intense alarm; men gave tongue, and above it all guns began to sound with deadly import, until the basin rocked with the dreadful clamor.