Then the masked man went over to the door, opened it and listened for several moments, before closing the door. He went into the kitchen and came back with a length of very dirty rag, which he used to gag both men very effectively. “I can’t have yuh yelpin’, yuh know,” he explained. “My scheme might not work, if somebody heard yuh yelpin’. Yuh see, the Night Hawks are makin’ one big cleanup tonight, and you’ll be in it.” He went back into the kitchen and came out, bringing a coil of thin, copper wire, which he twisted around the doorknob and flung the wire out behind him. The front door opened outward. Both men could see what he was doing, but they had no idea of his intentions. He took the end of the wire into the kitchen, and they saw the wire pull taut. He was out there quite a while, before they saw him again. He came back, looked at their bonds and gags, and went over to the lamp, picked it up and looked down at them. “Yuh might be interested in this little deal,” he said. “When anybody pulls that door open, it’ll pull the trigger on an old forty-four, pointed into a box of blastin’ caps. _Adios_, you poor fools. You stuck yore noses into one too many deals. You’ll be all right, until somebody comes and starts in. Enjoy yourselves.” The light went out, and they heard him shut the kitchen door. A few moments later they heard him ride away.... * * * * * Irish Delaney suffered tortures during that enforced ride. The lash-ropes cut into him with every movement of the horse, and his head throbbed like the beat of a huge drum. Finally the man left the two horses in the brush and went away. By this time Irish was beginning to realize his plight. He tried to move on the saddle, but the ropes were too tight. He was fully conscious when the man came back and untied the two horses. They started on again, climbing the hills in the darkness, while brush whipped against Irish’s unprotected head and caught at his feet. It seemed hours before the horses stopped again. The man grunted, as he took off the lashings. Then he took Irish in his arms and lowered him to the ground. Irish said nothing, and made himself as limp as possible. He felt better now, with the tight lashings removed. He discovered that his hands were tied in front of him, and the rope twisted around his body down to his tied ankles. Just what he would be able to do under the circumstances was hard to determine. The man grasped Irish under the arms and began dragging him, cursing about the rough ground and the uphill pull. Finally they came to a building. Irish remembered the conversation about the Lost Goose mine. It was a deserted place, where a mint of money had been expended on a silver vein. Irish had heard that the main shaft was seven hundred feet deep. The old shafthouse was merely a ruin now, only part of the old walls still standing.