Ace in the Hole Page #2

put the paper to bed.

Well, it looks like we're starting

our second year with a real bang.

Okay, fan, pack up.

You know, this could be a

pretty good story, Chuck.

Don't sell it short.

It's quite a sight, 1,000

rattlers in the underbrush,

and a lot of men smoking them

out, bashing in their heads.

Big deal, 1,000 rattlers

in the underbrush.

Give me just 50 of them

loose in Albuquerque.

Like that leopard in Oklahoma City.

The whole town in panic.

Deserted streets.

Barricaded houses.

They're evacuating the children.

Every man is armed.

Fifty killers on the prowl. Fifty.

One by one, they start

hunting them down.

They get 10, 20.

It's building. They get

40, 45. They get 49.

Where's the last rattler?

In a kindergarten? In a church?

In a crowded elevator? Where?

I give up. Where?

In my desk drawer, fan.

Stashed away, only

nobody knows it, see?

The story's good for

another three days.

Then when I'm good and ready,

we come out with a big extra.

"Sun-Bulletin snags number 50."

Where do you get those ideas?

Herbie, boy, how long did you go

to that school of journalism?

Three years.

Three years down the drain.

Me, I didn't go to any college, but

I know what makes a good story.

Because before I ever

worked on a paper,

I sold them on a street corner.

You know the first thing I found out?

Bad news sells best.

Because good news is no news.

Better get some gas.

Hey! Anybody here?

Hey!

Service!

Anybody home?

Sorry to bother you, lady.

I'd like to buy some gas.

Hey, there's something

screwy about this place.

There's just an old

lady in there that's...

Now, what would the law be doing up

there in that old Indian cliff dwelling?

Maybe they got a warrant for

Sitting Bull for that Custer rap.

Come on, Herbie, let's go

visiting. It's for free.

I can get the gas on the way back.

That is, if she's stopped praying.

- Who?

- That old lady in there.

What's she praying for?

I don't know, but whatever she's

praying for she's sure praying hard.

Maybe it ties in. Let's see.

Oh, I thought you were the doctor.

What's the matter? Somebody hurt?

We don't know yet. He's way in

there, under that mountain.

- What happened?

- We had a cave-in this morning.

Oh. That so?

Dumb cluck. Everybody

keeps telling him,

"Stay out of that place.

Stay out of there."

Not Leo. Stubborn like a mule.

He always keeps going back,

digging for those Indian pots.

- Who's Leo?

- My husband.

Oh.

Well, I'm sorry to hear

about it. Hop in.

- You live around here?

- Yeah.

I'm Mrs Leo Minosa.

We own that trading post

down on the highway.

Finest store in downtown Escudero.

Is that what they call

this place? Escudero?

Got a couple of other

names for it myself.

Did the Indians really live

in that place 450 years ago?

I wouldn't know. I haven't

been around that long.

Only seems that long.

Say, if you gents stopped by to see

that broken-down cliff dwelling,

you sure picked a swell day.

All right, let's have the facts.

You're his father?

Yes. I'm his father.

- How long has he been inside?

- Pretty near six hours now.

How far down you think he is?

Oh, about 250 or 300

foot, I should judge.

Best we could do was to

get in about halfway.

You got to watch yourself. Swing that

pick too hard in them old walls,

you start a sand slide and

block up the whole place.

Then goodbye, Leo.

Is that coffee good

and hot, Lorraine?

Sure, it's hot. The sandwiches are

in the blanket. So are the cigars.

- How's Mama?

- All right, I guess.

- How do I find my way?

- Just follow our rope. We left it in there.

After that, holler.

He'll yell back.

Wait a minute, you.

Nobody goes no place

here without I say so.

He's cold. He's hungry. We've got to

let him know we're doing something.

Look, I got my hands full already

without having two of you in there.

- Somebody's got to go.

- How about those Indians?

What do you say, chief? You ought to

know your way around here pretty well.

They won't go in. They never do.

- Bad spirits.

- Ah, go on.

What are you holding out

for, a couple of bucks?

He says it's their holy mountain.

The mountain of the seven vultures.

He says it's their holy mountain.

The mountain of the seven vultures.

The mountain of the seven

vultures. It's got a sound to it.

Get me a few shots, Herbie.

Looks like it's your move, copper.

What's it gonna be?

I'm thinking. Don't rush me.

I'll do something.

You could always give that poor fellow

in there a ticket for parking overtime.

Let me have those things.

Who do you think you are

butting in like this?

- Let me have your flashlight.

- Who is he?

I'll tell you who I am. I'm the

guy who's going in that cave.

And you're the guy that's been

sounding off long enough.

Now give me your flashlight.

- Why, you...

- Shut up.

Come on, Herbie.

Thanks, mister, and God bless you.

Tell him we'll get him out.

Tell him not to worry.

- Sure.

- Okay.

And tell him we'll have a big

coming-out party for him

with a brass band and everything.

Here's the rope.

I hope we can get to him.

Yeah.

Watch out for those rocks.

The old man sure looked bad.

- Did you see his face?

- Yeah.

Like the faces of those folks

you see outside a coal mine

with maybe 84 men trapped inside.

One man's better than 84.

Didn't they teach you that?

- Teach me what?

- Human interest.

You pick up the paper,

you read about 84 men or 284,

or a million men, like

in the Chinese famine.

You read it, but it

doesn't stay with you.

One man's different. You wanna know

all about him. That's human interest.

Somebody all by himself, like

Lindbergh crossing the Atlantic

or Floyd Collins.

Floyd Collins.

Doesn't that ring a bell?

No, not to me, it doesn't.

You never heard of Floyd Collins?

1925. Kentucky.

The guy pinned way

down in that cave.

One of the biggest

stories that ever broke.

Front page in every paper

in the country for weeks.

Say, what'd you take at that

school of journalism, advertising?

Well, maybe I did hear about it.

Then maybe you heard that a

reporter on a Louisville paper

crawled in for the story and

came out with a Pulitzer Prize.

Guess we'd better not

fool around with that.

Here. Hold this.

Now let me have it.

And camera.

You got a couple of bulbs?

You stay here.

That sand gets any worse,

let me hear from you, but loud.

I don't like the

looks of it, Chuck.

I don't either, fan.

But I like the odds.

Hello!

Hello!

Here!

Over here.

Here.

Over here.

Hello, Leo. How do you feel?

Not so bad any more.

I thought nobody would ever come.

Anything hurt? Any bones broken?

No, I guess not.

Can't you get your

legs out from under?

What do you think I've

been trying to do?

They're pinned under me.

Maybe I can help.

Hey, watch it! Watch it!

You want those rocks to

come down on my head?

I didn't know they were that shaky.

They're all pretty shaky.

It's an old place been coming

apart for a long time.

Looks like we'll have to

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