# Shadow, the Mysterious Detective/Chapter 13

CHAPTER XIII.
IN A BAD BOX.
Shadow was in a fix.
And it was a fix as bad as it was strange.
The pile of old junk through which the passage ran had settled down, closing it up.
Retreat was now an impossibility. He must either find a way out of the narrow prison he now found himself in by forging ahead, or else must either reveal himself or starve to death like a rat in a trap.
He was in a bad box and no mistake.
For the present he was compelled to lie perfectly quiet where he was, for the noise of the pile in settling had drawn to the spot several of the den's inmates.
Cap was seized with a fit of ill-humor over the occurrence, which he accepted as evidence that the miscellaneous stuff had been carelessly stowed.
"Come—come, Cap?" Shadow heard one of the men rather impatiently say. "You've said enough now, so haul in your horns, for I, for one, won't stand any more."
They were all in one boat, to adopt a much-used simile. And a certain number of them belonged to a co-operative sort of an association, and consequently were on an even footing.
Over these men Cap had no authority, save that which he had acquired from the fact of his being a very important man in the association.
So now, when spoken to in this plain manner, Cap swallowed his wrath, and discontinued his cursing the men with him.
He said that he was afraid that the noise would attract attention that might prove unwelcome.
But that was not the only reason for his anger at the settling down of the big pile.
Another and stronger reason was that he had not a few articles of considerable value stowed away in crannies at the base of the big pile of junk.
These things were breakable, and for all he knew then, had been completely destroyed.
Hiding his mingled anxiety and wrath, he now directed his efforts toward drawing the men away from the spot, and succeeded soon in doing so.
The moment Shadow heard them take their departure he commenced moving about, examining into the facts of his singular imprisonment.
He found himself in a place high enough to permit his crawling about on his hands and knees, and about two feet in width and ten in length.
Had it not been that he received a certain quantity of air through the interstices of the pile, he must have suffocated.
As it was, it took only a very few minutes after the settling down occurred before the air contained in the narrow place became foul, and really unfit to breathe.
But it contained enough oxygen to support life, and once satisfied of this, Shadow calmly pursued the task he was at.
Before long, however, Cap returned to inquire into the condition of his hidden articles of value, and Shadow was compelled to again become as quiet as a mouse.
He was more than satisfied with the result, since Cap's examination involved the moving of a number of articles, and the disposition of others in a manner which promised to make it much easier for the mysterious detective to extricate himself from his predicament.
Cap grunted.
And it was a grunt that indicated relief and satisfaction.
Although endangered, the articles concerning which he was solicitous had not been injured.
Once more he took his departure, and again Shadow made good use of his time.
The change which Cap had made permitted the better ingress of air into Shadow's prison-pen, and he could now breathe more easily.
Not a few times was he compelled to pause by the coming of some of the gang, and it required hours of careful labor before he had assured himself of having found a safe means of exit from his narrow cell.
But he did not take immediate advantage of this means of escape.
It would not have been in accordance with his plans.
Once having emerged he would have been compelled to walk some distance in open sight, by a much used path, to reach the stairs descending to the vaults beneath.
It was all he could hope for, could he once traverse the distance without being observed.
He was hungry and thirsty, to be sure, and stood sadly in need of rest.
But to have reached the vaults and gone through them to procure food, then return and make the passage again to his hiding-place, and then hope to reach the stairs by a third passage of the open space, would have been to hug a foolish hope to his breast.
No, he could not hope to more than once successfully make the passage of the open space without being observed.
So it was practically a question to go hungry and thirsty, or give up all idea of carrying his quest to completion.
The latter he would not do, until absolutely driven to it.
He decided on going hungry.
Only a light packing-case now stood between him and liberty—that is, liberty as far as emerging from his prison was concerned.
Having moved the box in and out to be sure that it did not bind anywhere, and that he would not be delayed when the time had come, in his judgment, to beat a retreat, he then turned his attention toward extending the passage in the direction of the office, in pursuance of his original intention.
It was already so close to the office that he could overhear what was said, although not as clearly at all times as he wished.
Conquering his rebellious stomach, which clamored for food, Shadow stuck to the task he had set for himself.
His pluck was properly rewarded, for he at last gained a position in which the lowest-toned and most confidential conversation, if above a low whisper, could be overheard.
And in the office there was a gathering not long after he had gained this point of vantage.
Than that company of men in the so-called office, it would have been a next to impossible task to have found an equal number of deep-dyed scoundrels or red-handed villains.
There was a full moon, and the night was a clear one, and the river-pirates do not choose such nights in which to ply their vocation.
As men in honest callings in life will boast sometimes of what they have done or can do, so villains when in secret quarters, and believing themselves beyond prying ears, will boast of their rascally feats.
An exceptional good humor and communicativeness seemed to have descended on this occasion on the party in the office, for they revealed many secret chapters of their lives to each other in illustrating their various exploits.
One fellow told, with a hearty laugh, how, when engaged in making away with a coil of rope, he had shot down the captain of the sloop, the mate and the cook.
"It was just—pop—pop—pop—in reg'lar one, two, three style, and down they went. They all 'kicked,' every one of 'em. Mebbe there wasn't a howl? Well, I just guess! But the police never yet have found out who was responsible for them there 'stiffs.'"
Another had even a more horrible story to tell of robbery and bloodshed.
Another owned up to have "laid out" six men since the day he first "gripped the graft."
And every word was drank eagerly in by a pair of acute and hungering ears.
Shadow was highly excited, and his face was filled with an expectant light.
He fully believed that one among the men gathered there was the will-o'-the-wisp which he had so long been following, and he was waiting until this one should utter a word that would commit him, one word by which he would fasten on himself a crime by which Shadow had sworn solemnly to avenge in as terrible a manner as was within his power.