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.” They gained the little cubby-hole of a room that had been transformed into an elevator, or had been built in that shape to conceal its design. “This is the place,” said the scout, stopping before the door. “I thought the elevator would be at the bottom of the cellar, but I see that it has been raised. Perhaps you will know who raised it? I went in here; then struck a match to look round, as it was dark. As I did so the elevator descended; and that bit of timber up there, which I see is in place again, came down on top of me as the bottom was reached. It’s heavy enough to kill a man, if it struck him right; and you will please note that it seems braced up there, as if for the purpose.” Gopher Gabe protested that he had never noticed that the timber was “loose.” “It didn’t get me,” said the scout, “simply because I dropped flat as the elevator landed. But though I wasn’t much hurt by it----” “War yer hurt at all, Buffler?” Nomad bellowed. “It hit me on the shoulders, but did no damage. Then the door was pulled open, and men came at me from the cellar, trying their best to kill me. I found a manhole and got out, or I reckon they would have succeeded.” “It’s a mighty queer thing,” said Gopher Gabe. “Some rowdies got in hyer, I reckon, and tried to do ye, but I’m not responsible fer that; you’ve got a lot of enemies in this town, Cody. I suppose you know it?” The scout looked straight at Gopher Gabe. “Yes, a lot of them!” he said. “We’ll go down and look round,” said Shepard. “How do ye work this thing, Gabe? Hanged if I knowed you had an elevator hyer. What you use it fer?” “I keep whisky barrels and the like down there,” the saloon keeper explained. “I put ’em in, and get ’em out with this elevator.” “Oh, I see!” As many as could crowded into the elevator and were lowered by Gopher Gabe to the cellar. This time the timber above did not come down. Some unobserved touch of the hand of the saloon keeper stayed it in place. When the cellar was gained and entered, the sheriff flashing round it the light of the lamp he had brought, no wounded or dead man was seen in it; there were no evidences of the fight.