Jim walked over to where he had placed the dynamite on the cage. Artemus just gave him a quizzical look as he reached out and pulled in one stick. He spread his previously discarded poncho on the cage bottom and broke the dynamite open. He removed a heel from his boot. He took a bit of clay like substance from his heel and coated it in the powder from the dynamite stick. He liberally coated the clay and then shoved it in the padlock.

"Uh, Jim, do you mind telling me how you plan to light that thing?" Artie looked at his partner incredulously.

"All I need is a spark to set off the powder, pal." Jim replied as he removed his other boot heel and reached his arms out of the cage.

"James, you can't be serious!" Artemus moved to grab him when he realized what his partner was about to try.

"It's okay, pal. I can get out of the way in time," Jim commented as he continued to strike his heels against the lock.

"James West, you're as delusional as Dr. Loveless, if not more so. You're gonna burn yourself for sure."

"As long as we get out of here in one piece, more or less, I'll live with it."

Jim repeatedly struck the boot heel against the padlock and quickly dropped it when the powder finally caught fire. He patted his arms as his skin was singed. He avoided Artie's I told you so glare as he helped him up. Jim dropped to the floor and held his arms out to his partner. Artie hissed and groaned when Jim's arm caught him around his chest. Jim apologized, put his heels back on his boots and helped Artie over to the door.

"Artie, keep a look out, I'm going to grab some of this dynamite. I think I saw a box of matches on the table over there in the corner," Jim went over and found the matches. He thrust some into Artie's pocket and he went back to the dynamite.

"Hey, Artie?"

"Yeah, Jim?"

"Your bomb isn't working…the timer stopped moving."

"Let me see it maybe I can fix it."

"Hey wait, I've got an idea…do you still have that item I slipped you earlier?"

"Yeah I think so," Artie reached in his pocket, retrieved the item and looked at it.

"James, you didn't," Artemus smiled at his partner.

"I did, Artemus," Jim smiled back as he extended his hand and Artemus placed the tiepin in it.

"You better wait till we're on the way out to pour that. It's rather unstable when you mix it with explosives," Artie warned.

"That's why you're leaving now, pal," Jim said as he pushed Artie into the poncho and out into the hall.

"Jim…"

"Don't worry, I'll be right behind you. Just head for the stairs and don't look back, I'm going after Loveless first."

"Jim, the Service knows where we are why not just let them handle it," Jim lowered his head.

"You mean to tell me you took the clerk to the safe house and you DIDN'T tell them where you were headed?"

"I'm sorry, Artie, I was in such a hurry to get here I forgot…maybe the clerk…"

"You hate Loveless that much, Jim?"

"No, I care that much about you, pal. And if I didn't hate him that much before I do now."

Artemus made his way back to the stairs, astonished by the fact that he didn't run into one single guard. He started to climb the stairs when a thought occurred to him and he turned back and headed toward the main chamber.

Jim carefully balanced the open tiepin on the gunpowder pile he had made on the dynamite, extremely careful not to let it spill. He blew some of the gunpowder away and ran from the room as the pin began a very slow descent into the powder. He raced as quickly as his injured leg would allow to the main chamber and froze when he saw Artemus by the door.

"Damnit, Artie, I thought I told you to get out of here."

"You're not the only one with a score to settle, Jim.

"No, but I'm the only one that can run."

"What's that got to do with anything? Although I doubt you could run very far with that knife slice in your leg."

"Artie, I put that tiepin on a pile of gunpowder I put on top of the dynamite."

"You what?!?" Artie whispered.

"Jim, we gotta leave Loveless for another time. We'll only have about one minute once that acid mixes with the dynamite."

Jim looked around and saw a piece of discarded wood, he picked it up and jammed it between the door handle and the floor. Artemus grabbed his arm, causing Jim to hiss, Artie gave him an apologetic look but continued to drag him toward the stairs. Just as they reached the bottom step the ground shook with the massive explosion.

Rock, debris, and dirt began to filter down on them as a beam gave way. Jim shoved Artie out of the way up the stairs and jumped up after him as the ceiling caved in and filled the opening with debris. Artie landed with a thud then he felt Jim either fall or jump on top of him as the debris continued to filter down on them.

As the dust settled Artie, who was having an increasingly difficult time breathing, tried to move. He seemed to be pinned under his unmoving partner. Oh great balls of St. Elmo's fire, Jim must have gotten hurt. How the heck am I going to get him off of me? Artie thought. He pulled and pried his arms free, grimacing at the pain. He tried to pull himself free and groaned. Artie decided he needed another course of action. He pushed up, then lowered himself back down. James, my boy I didn't do this much exercising when I was in the Army! Panting heavily, he pushed up with one more great heave, knocking debris and his partner off his back. Jim toppled off landing with a thud.

Artie slumped into a sitting position and leaned against the stairwell wall. He closed his eyes to rest just for a moment, he told himself. He woke with a jolt. Realizing he had fallen asleep, he also noted he must have slept for some time as the stairwell was completely dark, what little light had been coming down from above now gone. Jim still laid where he had fallen; causing alarm in Artemus. Groaning as his muscles protested at movement, Artemus crawled over to his friend and checked him as best he could in the dark.

He's got a pretty good sized bump on the back of his head, Artie thought, I wonder which rock he broke with it, he chuckled. Hmm, doesn't seem to be anything else wrong with him other than the fact that his cuts are bleeding again. That cut on your leg is gonna make walking out of here pretty painful, pal, not to mention that slice on your arm, Artie thought as he removed what remained of his shirt and tore it into strips he used to bind Jim's cuts. As he worked, thankful for some moonlight finally filtering down, he could only hope Loveless didn't get away this time. After tending to his partner, Artemus decided to wait until daylight to try and leave. He hoped by that time Jim would wake up. Artie drifted off to sleep.

Jim woke some time later, slowly testing his limbs. He discovered the makeshift bandages Artie had made and was dismayed to see that he had also given him the only thing they had to cover up with, the old poncho, while he was completely uncovered. He glared and shook his head at his partner as he leaned over and placed the poncho over him. He tried to rise and inspect the stairwell only to discover that his leg wouldn't support him. He fell back onto the stairs and then leaned back. He decided he would just wait and let Artemus sleep. Jim thought his partner didn't look well at all. What a great pair we make. I can't walk and Artie looks like the walking dead. Maybe I should have left when he told me to. But I couldn't leave knowing what he was being subjected to. I really wish Artie had let me go in there and get Loveless. Now we may never know if he is alive or dead. And I hope to God he is dead, Jim's expression matched the tone of his thoughts.

"I'd say a penny for your thoughts, Jim, but judging by the look on your face it would cost me a whole lot more than that," Artie groaned as he woke up stretching.

"Hey pal, you're awake."

"Well, James, your powers of observation didn't seem to take the same hit your head did," Artie deadpanned.

"Speaking of which, pal, how's your head? You took quite a whack back there, judging by the size of that lump. Do you have any blurred vision, nausea, disorientation or a headache?" Artie leaned over toward his friend frowning when Jim tried to shake his head no.

"Here, follow my finger," Artie moved his finger back and forth in front of him.

"How many fingers am I holding up now?" He asked as he held up two fingers.

"Four," Jim replied, knowing better than to lie to his partner.

"James, I do believe you've got yourself one doozey of a concussion. I was only holding up two fingers. Now do you want to tell me your symptoms again or are we just going to sit here playing twenty questions?"

"It's nothing, Artie. It's just a little blurred double vision and a small headache. It's nothing compared to what you have to be feeling."

"Yeah, well, you don't worry about me. What we need to worry about is how to get you out of here. It'll be daylight in a few minutes and I'd just as soon not linger around waiting to see how many of Loveless' henchmen are still milling around waiting to get paid," Artie sat deep in thought.

"Artie, I could go for help while you try to get some sleep," Jim offered.

"Oh NOW you want to pay attention to something I say. It's a tad late for that James or are you forgetting that you won't get ten paces with that leg of yours?"

"Well I don't see how you're going to carry me. One of us should at least go up and see if my horse is still there," Jim made to get up.

"You stay put with your vision you're liable to see a bush and think it's a whole platoon of Loveless' henchmen out there."

Artemus rose and slowly ascended the stairwell and disappeared from sight. Jim cursed his blurred vision and shut his eyes against the headache. Artemus frowned as he stumbled toward the tree Jim had left his horse tied to. All he found were tracks; both horse and man. Damn, one of Loveless' every so faithful minions must have taken it. Artemus looked around for anything that might be useful. He found a couple of branches that he felt would suit his purpose and dragged them back to the stairwell opening.

Jim looked up just in time to see the branches slide down the stairs. He reached out and grabbed them, wondering what on earth his partner could be up to. The branches were closely followed by his partner. Jim took in his appearance and wondered how they were going to get back to town.

"Jim, I think I may have a way to get us back to town. It might not be all that pleasant for you but it will work," Artie said as he grabbed the poncho and began making small tears at intervals along the edge.

"What do you have in mind, Artie? I'm guessing you didn't find the horse."

"No, I didn't find the horse I think one of Loveless' men took him. What I was thinking is that I can use these tree branches and this old poncho to rig a travois and haul you out of here," Artie replied, pointedly avoiding his partner's glare.

"Artie, are you out of your mind? You can barely move yourself how are you going to drag me out of here?" Jim demanded.

"I'll manage, Jim. I'm not going to leave you here by yourself especially since we don't know if Loveless is still out there or not. Hell, we don't even know if his accomplice is out there or not."

"You'll manage. The only thing you'll manage to do is kill yourself. We can just stay here until my vision clears enough for me to see straight."

"And what about your leg not to mention those cuts on your arms? Those don't look so hot, Jim, infection could be setting in," Artie argued.

"And what about you, pal? If I blew on you you'd fall down. You have broken ribs all those cuts and those nasty incisions. You should be the one on the travois not me."

"Not a chance, Jim. You can't put any weight on that leg and I know it hurts you. With blurred and double vision you could walk us off a cliff into a ravine. But, if it will make you feel any better once your vision clears up and you can walk on that leg I'll trade off okay?" Jim searched his partner's eyes for a moment.

"No it's not okay. I don't like it one bit, but something tells me I don't really have a choice," Jim grumped.

"Hey how about that I finally get the final say against the great James West," Artie grinned.