“As the thing happened in your cellar,” said the scout to him, “I have asked the sheriff to search it, and the wine rooms. Back there I stepped into a little room, which turned out to be an elevator and dropped me into the cellar, when the villains who were down there attacked me, and tried to shoot me. But I winged one of them, I’m sure.”
“I reckon he must be thar yit,” said Nomad. “Lead on thar, an’ we’ll mighty soon find out.”
“I heard shootin’,” said the saloon keeper, his tone that of apology; “but I reckoned it was out in the street.”
Shepard led the way through the gaming room and on into the corridor indicated, the scout and Nomad tramping at his heels. Behind them followed Gopher Gabe, protesting that he could not understand this queer shooting attempt. Back of the saloon keeper streamed the straggling and excited mob.
“What was you doin’ back hyer, anyhow, Cody?” Gopher Gabe demanded finally. “Only the waiters is allowed in this passageway.”
“Only the waiters, and officers of the law,” the scout retorted.
“Yes; if you put it that way.”
“That’s the way I put it, Gabe. As I was shot at from the window of an empty house near this place, I thought I’d look round near the wine rooms, in the hope that I might find who did it. Then this thing happened.”
“It goes ahead o’ me,” said Gopher Gabe, “who could have done it.”