Once on the street the professor struck off for the water front at a brisk pace. In the hotel room Jim looked inquiringly at Don.
“Do you suppose it is alright for him to go?” he asked.
“I guess so,” nodded Don. “He is pretty well able to take care of himself.”
The city was wrapped in darkness when the professor began his wandering, a darkness which was broken by the bright lights on the business streets and the more feeble ones on the side streets. The professor headed for the wharves, where the masts of the medley of crafts could be seen rising above the low houses which fronted the bay. Down in this section the savant found some queer crooked streets, lined with rows of box-like houses and cheap eating places. Groups of men and women sat on the doorsteps and fire escapes, children whooped and played in the streets, and scraps of music, jarring one on the other, came from phonographs and radios. Sailors and business men walked back and forth in the narrow streets, and the professor found much to study.
He strode along the docks, examining with interest the multitude of ships there, ranging from huge ocean steamers to small private boats. Liners, tramp ships, battered steam boats, sailing vessels, schooners, yachts, sloops, catboats, yawls and power cruisers lay side by side with tugs and ferries. An army of stevedores worked under blazing arc lights loading and unloading, and the air vibrated with the rattle of machinery, the hoarse cries of the men, and the thump of boxes and crates. So deeply engrossed was the professor in the scenes which he was witnessing that he forgot the passage of time.
He had wandered far down the shore line when he came at last to a street more narrow and crooked than the rest. It was in fact nothing more than an alley, flanked by tall seamen’s houses, with restaurants and pool parlors on the ground floors. The professor looked at a sign post and saw that it was named Mullys Slip.
“Mullys Slip, eh?” thought the teacher. “This is the quaintest of them all. I think I’ll stroll up it.”
Accordingly, he walked up the narrow sidewalk, looking with interest into the stores and eating houses as he passed by, listening to snatches of conversation as he passed groups who sat out taking advantage of the cool air. When he had walked to the end of the Slip he walked back, and seeing a well-lighted eating place near the dock, entered it and sat down at a round table. While he ordered a sandwich and coffee he looked around him.
It was a long, low room, the air of which was nearly obscured by tobacco smoke, half filled at the time with men who evidently came from the ships. Most of them were eating, the rest were smoking and talking, and a few slept, hanging over the tables. The professor ate his sandwich and sipped his coffee, content and easy in his mind, until, looking across from him into a narrow corner, he found the eyes of two men fixed upon him.
One of the men was a powerful individual with a heavy, unhealthy looking face, whose eyes, set close together, looked slightly crossed. The other was tall and thin, with long and dangling arms. Both of them were dressed in rough black clothing, which gave no real hint as to what business they were engaged in. They might have been sailors or stevedores, and both showed unmistakable signs of hardy, adventurous lives. They had evidently been talking about the professor, for their eyes were bent on him with earnest scrutiny, and when they observed that he had seen them they hastily resumed their conversation.
The professor paid no attention to them at first, but went on eating, looking around with keen eyes and mentally cataloguing the men in the place. But when he once more looked across at his neighbors they were bending the same intent look upon him. Vague doubt began to stir the mind of professor Scott.
“I don’t altogether like the looks of those fellows,” decided the professor, as he called a waiter and paid his small bill. “By the way they look at me I’d say they were talking about me. All in all, I’m in a pretty rough neighborhood, and perhaps the sooner I get out of it, the better.”
He went out of the place at once, casting a single look back of him as he did so, and he was not made to feel any easier as he noted that they were following him with the same steady look. He was not greatly alarmed, for he did not carry much money with him, but feeling that he would be better off on a well-lighted thoroughfare, he made his way back along the dark street. It was now growing late and the lights were being extinguished. He found his road darker than it had been when he had followed it earlier in the evening, and so he hurried on, bent on reaching the business section.
He had covered two blocks when he began to think that he was being followed. It was as much of a feeling as an actual fact, for each time he looked around he was unable to see anyone who looked as though he might be trailing him. He fancied once that he saw a shadow dart quickly into a doorway, but though he looked keenly in that direction he was unable to make sure.
“Humph, I had better get back to the hotel,” mused the teacher. “I think I’m beginning to imagine things.”
On the block beyond a number of dark alleys opened from the houses, and the professor was compelled to pass them. Either the houses were deserted or there was no one up at the time, for he saw no one as he crossed the corner. Only far ahead of him, on the opposite side of the street, a battered old car was pulled up to the edge of an empty dock, and a man sat looking out over the water at a group of three-masted coal carriers.
Just as the professor was passing a wide alley he thought he heard a step beside him. He turned his head quickly, and then gasped. Two shadows seemed to detach themselves from the passageway and bore down on him. Before he could utter any cry a powerful pair of arms was thrown around him and he was strained close to the body of a big man. At the same time, without loss of a moment, the second man dipped his hands into the professor’s trousers pockets and into his inside coat pocket.
Taken completely by surprise the old teacher for a second did not offer any kind of resistance and when he did it was rather feeble, for his arms were pinned close to his sides, and he was fairly standing on his toes. But his feet were free, and he managed to kick the man who held him a smart blow in the shin. A low, growling curse was his reward, and a blow of considerable force followed, landing on his shoulder. By a sudden twist the professor squirmed from the arms of the man who was holding him, and strengthened by his indignation, which was kindling into hot wrath, the savant punched the second man full on the mouth.
The first man, who was none other than the narrow-eyed individual of the restaurant growled in his throat. “I’ll bust your head, you old windjammer!” he roared, and swung his fist at the professor. The blow, which landed on the teacher’s neck, felled him instantly to the sidewalk.
“Grab him up,” ordered the second man, stooping over the professor, who was somewhat dazed. “We’ll dump him in the bay.”
Both men leaned down to pick up the form of the professor when there was an interruption. The young man who had been sitting in the nondescript automobile had had his attention attracted by the beginning of the struggle, and unnoticed by any of the principals he had jumped out of the car and was now upon them. Although he did not know one from the other he could see that two were against one, and noting, under the faint light from a nearby lamp-post that the lone fighter was an elderly man, threw himself without hesitation upon the two wharf-men. His active fist jarred against the jaw of the heavyset man.
“Take that, with the compliments of the lone star ranger!” he muttered. “Don’t know what it’s all about, but that’s my share.”
His blow infuriated the man, who drove at him with an angry roar, but the professor was scrambling to his feet, and the second man grasped his leader by the arm. He spoke to him in a low tone, and the two, with a slight hesitation, turned and fled up the alley. Convinced that pursuit would be useless, the young man turned to the professor.
“Are you hurt, sir?” he asked, quickly.
In the faint light the professor saw that he was a boy of twenty or thereabouts, tall and somewhat lanky, with red hair and a lean face, on which freckles had taken up a permanent home. The professor shook his head.
“No, thanks to you. Those fellows were going to throw me into the water. Were you in that car?”
“Yes,” grinned the boy. “That is my private chariot, called ‘Jumpiter,’ because of its habit of doing something very much like jumping! Have you been robbed?”
The professor felt through his pockets and nodded. “Yes, a few dollars and a letter has been taken from me. I don’t care much about the money, but the letter was from my son Ned, and I valued that somewhat. I would like to thank you sincerely for your timely arrival.”
“Don’t mention it,” begged the young man. “Let’s get out of here. I’ll drive you to wherever you want to go.”
When they entered the battered car the professor told the boy the name of the hotel at which he was staying and they rolled away. Then the teacher asked the name of his rescuer.
“Mackson is my name,” replied the boy. “Terry Mackson, from Beverley, Maine.”
“Why,” exclaimed the professor. “I come from Maine, too. I am a history teacher in Bridgewater!”
“In Bridgewater!” cried Terry as they entered the business section. “Then you must know the Mercer brothers.”
“Know them!” laughed the professor. “I have them here with me!”
“Here, with you? Well, I’ll be jiggered! They are my very best chums!” said Terry. “Last summer I was in Bridgewater, sailing with them, and we go to Woodcrest together, in fact, we room together. What are they doing here?”
“We are going down to Lower California to visit my son Ned, on his ranch, and make some scientific studies, and perhaps look up a treasure that Ned feels sure that he can find nearby. How did you come to be out here?”
“I didn’t have a thing to do this summer,” explained Terry. “My mother and sister went to visit friends in New Hampshire, and so I decided to tour the country in my car. I’ve been out here for the last two days, and I was going to head for Mexico tomorrow.”
“How very strange that we should meet,” commented the professor. “You must step up and see the boys. They will be glad to see you.”
“I won’t be a bit sorry to see them,” returned Terry, heartily. “They certainly will be surprised.”
They drove on until they were almost at the hotel, and then Terry, who had been thinking deeply, suddenly began to chuckle. Then, as the professor looked inquiringly at him, the red-headed boy spoke.
“Professor,” he said, “how would you like to help me in a little joke?”
CHAPTER V
THE PROWLER IN THE NIGHT
A few minutes later the professor entered the rooms which he and the two boys had engaged together alone. He found Don and Jim reading some magazines which the hotel management furnished.
“Hello, professor,” greeted Don. “Safely back, eh?”
“We were beginning to think that you had been lost,” smiled Jim, putting down his magazine.
“I was not lost,” returned the professor. “But I have had a most extraordinary adventure.”
“What was it?” they asked, in chorus.
“I came across a very distressing thing,” the teacher continued. “I wonder if you boys will help me? Outside, on a lonely street, I met a young man wandering, and it appears that he has amnesia!”
“Amnesia!” cried Don. “That means loss of memory, doesn’t it?”
“Yes,” answered the professor, seriously. “He could not remember who he was nor where he came from. I questioned him at length, and while he answers rationally enough, he simply cannot remember a thing past a week ago.”
“That surely is tough,” murmured Don. “What did you want us to do?”
“I have the young man outside here,” replied Professor Scott. “I wondered if you two would help me question him? If we ply him with questions we may be able to suggest something that will make him remember who he is and some details of his past life.”
“We’ll be glad to help,” said Jim, heartily. “Where is he?”
“I’ll bring him in,” replied the teacher, and he left the room.
“That’s mighty hard luck,” commented Don. “I hope we can do something to help.”
A moment later the professor returned, gently leading someone with him. “Come right in here, young man,” he said, loudly and gently. “There are only friends in here, so don’t be afraid.”
“Thank you sir,” a voice replied. “Oh, if you can only do something for me!”
Professor Scott appeared in the room, leading with him a dazed-looking young man with red hair and freckled face, at the sight of whom Don and Jim sprang to their feet with a cry. The boy looked at them dully and swallowed.
“Terry Mackson!” they shouted.
“What!” cried the professor, in amazement, as he pushed the boy down into a large chair. “Do you know this boy?”
“We certainly do!” Don shot out. “This is Terry Mackson, an old chum of ours. We room with him at school.”
The professor looked down at Terry, who stared in puzzled wonder at Don. “That is very strange. He doesn’t appear to know you.”
“Perhaps he has been hit on the head,” suggested Jim, coming forward.
“This is fierce,” said Don, worry on his face. “Terry, don’t you know me?”
“‘Shoot if you must this old gray head, but I don’t remember you, she said,’” was the unexpected reply, and the corners of his mouth, which had been quivering, expanded. The professor burst into a roar of laughter.
The Mercer boys stood for a moment rooted to the spot, while Terry and the professor laughed in unrestrained glee. After the first moment of disgust their eyes narrowed and two determined chins were thrust forward.
“Jim,” said Don, quietly. “Put out the light. I don’t want the world to witness the awful thing that is going to happen here!”
“Put it out yourself!” retorted Jim. “I am due for a first class murder, and I’m late now!”
And with that the two brothers threw themselves in mock fury onto the body of their laughing friend and bore him to the floor, where they punched him soundly, finding their task an easy one, for the red-headed boy was weak from laughter. When they had tired themselves they jerked him up and pushed him into the chair, the professor enjoying it all hugely.
“That was positively the most low trick I ever saw,” declared Don disgustedly.
“I’d like to have a look at the brain that would think of such a thing,” chimed in Jim.
“Oh, boy!” laughed Terry. “If you could ever have seen the kindly, anxious looks in your eyes as you bent over me to help restore my fleeting memory! My friends, I thank you! If ever I do lose my identity I shall request that I be taken to the Mercers, who will surely restore me!”
“Oh, shut up!” said Don, beginning to smile. “We admit that we were completely sold that time. Where in the world did the professor find you?”
“I didn’t find him,” put in the teacher. “Luckily, he found me.” And he related the events of the evening to them.
“You aren’t hurt, I hope, professor?” asked Jim, anxiously.
“No, just bruised a bit. I would have been severely wet if it had not been for Terry’s timely intervention. It was while on the way over here in Terry’s—er—remarkable car that he proposed the trick that was played on you.”
“I’m surprised you would go in for such a thing, professor,” said Don. “But you can be excused because you don’t know Terry. But in the future never do anything that he suggests. If you don’t get in trouble you will be sure to lose all respect for yourself, so I advise against it.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” smiled the older man. “I enjoyed that little scene in which Terry lost his mind!”
“The part we enjoyed,” returned Don, grimly, “was the thumping part.”
“You say your letter was taken from you, professor?” asked Jim.
“Yes, and I wanted that more than anything else. However, it won’t do anyone else any good, so I suppose it is not such a loss, after all.”
For the next hour they talked and Terry related his experiences during his trip across the country. He spoke of going on down into Mexico, and the professor listened, his eyes fixed on the newcomer thoughtfully. At last he spoke up.
“Terry,” he said. “Why don’t you come along with us?”
Terry grinned. “I was hoping you’d say just that,” he admitted, frankly. “I have no definite plan in mind, and I would certainly hate to miss any fun that Don and Jim are in. But on the other hand I wouldn’t want to put you out any.”
“You wouldn’t,” said the professor, heartily. “Ned has plenty of room for all of us at his ranch. I’m really taking the boys along so that I won’t have to tramp all over the country looking for Ned’s treasure, and you can come along to help in that line.”
After some talk it was agreed that Terry should store his car away until such time as they should want it again. It was late when he left them, agreeing to meet them on the following day and go to the steamer with them. The professor and the Mercers slept soundly that night and the next day were ready to begin their trip down the coast.
Meeting Terry in the morning they all went down to the steamer, a small fruit carrier, and the captain consented to add one to the party. Although the steamer was not scheduled to start until evening the friends went aboard early in the afternoon and settled themselves in their cabin, a good sized room which was plain but clean. After that they wandered over the ship, keeping out of the way of the men who were storing crates, preparatory to their cruise southward to load fruit. The smell of different grades of fruit was a permanent part of the black steamer, and it was by no means unpleasant.
In the evening, just before sailing time, Don and Jim stood out on the deck, watching the men at work. The professor and Terry were in the cabin. Just before the gangplank was hauled in a heavyset man walked confidently aboard and spoke to the mate. The captain was nowhere about at the time. Although not particularly interested the boys noted that the man had a shifty, watchful look, and that his eyes were set close together. The mate appeared to know him and engaged him in conversation, talking in low tones and looking around sharply while doing so. At the end of their short conversation, during which both men looked at the two boys, the newcomer went forward and they saw no more of him.
The steamer cast off and headed south, swinging out in a wide arc, and the voyage was on. Terry and the professor came on deck at the sound of the last whistle and together they watched the purple coast line fade from sight. Supper followed and they made a hearty meal of it, eating with the captain at a private table in sight of the main mess tables.
The evening was spent in talking in the cabin and in pacing the deck. The night was clear and calm and the sky dotted with a myriad of stars, and the steady throbbing of the huge engines made almost the only sound as they ploughed through the blue waters of the Pacific. Quite early they turned in and soon fell into a deep sleep.
It was Terry who woke up with a sense that all was not right. He was a lighter sleeper than the others, and some slight noise had awakened him. He sat up in his bunk, peering across the room at a shadow which seemed out of place there. Thinking it might be one of his chums stirring he spoke.
“Hello there! Who’s prowling around?”
His words, spoken quietly, had an effect that astonished him. Someone moved out of the shadows and for a second into the faint light which streamed in through a port hole. Instantly Terry recognized one of the men who had attacked the professor on the previous night.
The man ran to the door, jerked it open and darted along the narrow hallway that led to the companionway ladder. Terry swung his feet over the edge of his bunk.
“All hands to repel boarders!” he yelled, and without waiting to put on shoes or clothing, dashed out of the door after the fleeing man.
The others woke up instantly, to see Terry streaking down the hall. Terry ran rapidly up the ladder and saw the intruder slipping over the rail. The steamer was close into the shore, and without hesitation the man dropped over into the water and struck out for the shore, just as Terry gained the rail.
While he watched the man swimming for shore the others ran up, followed a moment later by the captain and the mate, a lean-jawed man with a hooked nose and wide mouth. To their excited inquiries Terry explained what had happened.
“No use trying to catch him with a boat,” decided the captain, seeing that the man was almost to the shore. “What did he look like?”
Terry described him, and the professor and the boys were astonished to find that it was one of the men who had attacked the professor on the previous night. The captain broke out in an exclamation.
“Sackett!” he cried.
“You know him?” asked the professor.
“Squint Sackett is one of the worst bay bandits we have,” said the captain. “He is a noted river pirate, and the police would give a whole lot to lay hands on him. Mr. Abel, how did that man get on board?”
“I don’t know, sir,” said the mate, promptly.
“You don’t know?” asked Jim, in amazement. “Why you let him on board yourself. My brother and I saw you talking to him this afternoon, just before we sailed.”
“It’s a lie,” shouted the mate, darting a bitter glance at him.
“Oh, no it isn’t,” said Don, coldly. “We saw you. After you and he talked this man Sackett went forward, and you didn’t make any effort to stop him.”
“I’ve had my suspicious of you for sometime, Mr. Abel,” growled the captain, “and now I know you are crooked. You get off my ship! The first port we come to you sling your pack and get out. I can’t prove anything on you, but I won’t have any mate of mine having relations with a man like Squint Sackett. D’you understand?”
“I’ll break these kids in two!” shouted the mate, advancing. But the captain, who was bigger than the mate, quickly barred the way, his heavy fists raised.
“You touch these boys and I’ll bust you over the rail!” he roared. “Get down below and pack up. Tomorrow you’re clearing this ship. Now get!”
Muttering angrily to himself the mate obeyed, and when he was gone the captain turned back to the party. “I’d advise you to look out for that mate,” he warned. “I’m glad you found out what you did. Did Sackett steal anything from you?”
A hasty examination of the cabin revealed that Sackett had been in the act of going through the professor’s inside coat pocket at the time he was surprised by Terry, but nothing had been taken. Putting the whole affair down as an attempt at robbery the captain left them to themselves, assuring them that no further harm would come to them.
“We’ll have to keep our eyes open for this Sackett,” said Don, as they went back to their bunks. “For the life of me, I can’t see why he should take the trouble to come aboard and try to rob us. He must have a mistaken idea that there is a lot of money in this crowd.”
“That may be it,” agreed the professor, somewhat doubtfully. “But it does seem strange that he should take such pains to follow us.”
“Wonder how he knew we were on this particular boat?” mused Jim.
“That’s not so hard,” Terry explained. “Perhaps he hangs around the docks and saw us come aboard today. But that mate must surely be one of the gang.”
“No doubt of it,” said Don, yawning sleepily. “Well, he’s gone, and we probably won’t see anything of him again.”
But if Don and the others could have even guessed at the plans which were at that moment being formulated in the evil brain of Squint Sackett they would have had much food for thought. They were destined to see him again, and not in the distant future.
CHAPTER VI
THE SCENE IN THE MOONLIGHT
The sail down the beautiful California coast was uneventful. The fruit steamer was a staunch old boat, though somewhat battered, and it kept its course steadily. After the boys and the professor had tired of exploring it from end to end and looking in on the huge engines which drove it with throbbing energy they spent most of their time on the deck watching the passing shore line, enjoying the warmth and brilliant sunshine. The nights, they found, were cold even in that particular time of the year, and they were not sorry to use blankets even in the shelter of their cabins. They became quite friendly with the captain, who told them stories of many exciting voyages and some unusual storms. Nothing further was seen of Sackett and the mate went sullenly ashore at the first port.
No storms broke the monotony of fair weather and quiet sailing, and when at last they entered Magdalena Bay and approached the settlements they were almost sorry to leave the fruit steamer. At ten o’clock one bright morning they climbed into the cutter and were pulled away to the shore, landing at length on the sandy soil of the small town of Quito.
Ned’s ranch lay several miles inland, and the only means of travel was a lumbering wagon which went to the mines. Learning that this vehicle was to start out the following morning they hunted up the driver, a Mexican, and arranged to drive with him. A small hotel provided them with a place to put up over night and after a satisfying supper they wandered around the town, seeing the sights. The steamer had gone on its voyage after a brief stop.
The population of the town was very small, and exceedingly sleepy. Terry remarked that they slept all day in order to recruit strength enough to play on guitars at night. The population was composed of Spaniards, Mexicans, and a few Americans, whose interest seemed to be chiefly centered in the inland mines, and a number of halfbreeds. Droves of dogs, whose seemingly endless variety astonished the boys, roamed the streets.
“Gosh,” exclaimed Jim, as they came around a pack of them. “I used to like pups, but I don’t know as I do after seeing these. Guess I’ll look under my bed when we get back to the hotel and see if there are any there!”
Soft lights gleamed from most of the houses when evening came on, and the sound of guitars was to be heard on every street. There were no lights along the streets, but the night was warm and bright, and the Americans had no difficulty in walking around the town. Quite early they returned to their hotel and after drinking some cold orange drink, went to bed.
Bright and early in the morning they were up, as they had been told that the mine wagon was to leave at six, and after a hearty breakfast went out and loaded their bags on the vehicle. The driver appeared shortly afterward, rolling a cigaret with amazing skill between two fingers. Terry eyed him in admiration.
“By golly!” he muttered. “I don’t smoke and don’t know as I shall, but if I did I’d give a lot to be able to roll ’em like that! I couldn’t roll one that way with both hands.”
Later on, when in the course of their journey the Spaniard yawned, Terry pretended to be enthusiastic. Without bothering to take the cigaret out of his mouth the driver yawned heartily, and the cigaret, clinging to his upper lip, simply hung suspended until he closed his lips again. Then he resumed smoking, the operation being none the worse for the act, and Terry again shook his head in envy.
“Wonderful people!” he whispered to Don. “Too lazy to do anything at all! Wonder what happens to a cup of coffee when he yawns!”
“Probably he keeps right on pouring it down and doesn’t waste any time,” chuckled Jim. “Great labor savers, these people!”
“I guess their hardest work is to keep from doing any work,” smiled Professor Scott.
The wagon was a large open affair, with two long boards like benches on the side, and the boys and the teacher sat on the seats with their baggage at their feet. The driver sat slumped forward on the front seat, smoking, yawning and dozing by turns, muttering in broken exclamations sometimes to the horses and sometimes to himself. Although they tried to talk to him they received only weary shrugs of his narrow shoulders, and they soon gave it up and talked among themselves.
The country through which they were passing led up in a gradual sweep from Magdalena Bay, and they soon drew out of sight of that broad sheet of blue water and plunged on into the more open country. The soil was somewhat sandy, with an almost tropical vegetation, and small brooks spread like silver ribbons toward the sea. As they continued to work further inland the country became more and more open, with rolling plains and afar off darker stretches marked the hills in which the mines were located.
“Ned’s place is off in that direction,” said the professor, pointing to the southwest. “He tells me that it is in a basin between two small ranges, so we’ll probably come across it all at once.”
At noontime they halted in the shade of a spreading tree which was more of an overgrown bush, a species that the professor did not know, and in which he speedily became interested. The driver immediately sat in the shade and proceeded to eat his lunch from a black box which he had, paying not the slightest attention to them. The boys, wishing to make some coffee, cut some mesquite bushes which were nearby and kindled a small fire. Jim set the coffee to boil and they ate some sandwiches which they had been wise enough to bring with them.
When the coffee was made Don took some to the Spaniard, who accepted it with a brief nod of his head. Terry poked Jim.
“That means thank you,” he said. “Too much trouble to say it!”
Immediately after the noon meal the driver toppled over silently and went to sleep, a movement that afforded Terry much amusement. On this particular occasion, however, the boys could not blame him very much. It was hot, so much so that they were glad to stretch out and nap themselves. At the end of an hour the driver got up suddenly, resumed his seat and clicked his tongue at the two horses. The wagon, with its crew, rumbled on.
It was five o’clock when they topped the final rise and looked down on the Scott ranch. As the wagon rolled down to the place they had a good opportunity to study it closely. There was the main ranch building, a single story affair, constructed of plain boards that showed up gray and sordid against the declining sun. Two large barns flanked the house and an inclosed field with some scattered patches of grass afforded a ground for a half dozen horses. In back of the ranch was another frame building, which they afterward found out was Ned’s laboratory, in which he tested metal from the mines.
Ned Scott was at home when they arrived, in fact, he had seen the wagon top the rise, and came riding out to meet them. They saw him swing carelessly onto the back of a horse and dash up, and Jim, who was used to riding a cavalry horse at school, admired the grace and ease with which he did it. Then, having greeted his father enthusiastically, Ned Scott was introduced to the boys.
He was a young man in his early thirties, broadly built, with black hair and eyes and a serious look. For some years he had lived in practically what was solitude, seeing a few white men from the mines and a good many halfbreeds and Mexicans. The sight of three boys somewhat near his own age was welcome, and he looked forward to some interesting days to come.
When greetings had been exchanged the young engineer led the way to the ranch, where the boys alighted from the mine wagon, and paid the driver. The man took the money unemotionally and drove off, having only exchanged a word in Spanish with Ned.
“Well,” said Terry, as they watched him drive off. “That man is a treat!”
“How is that?” asked Ned.
“He is so calm,” replied Terry, solemnly. “And he is a splendid example. After seeing him I don’t think I’ll ever be fussed or excited over anything again!”
Ned Scott led them into the ranch building, a rough but comfortable place, with a wide, hospitable living room, a big dining-room, kitchen and a number of small bedrooms, all on the one floor. There was a small loft above for storage purposes, but no real upper floor. After they had stowed their things away and had made themselves comfortable Ned took them around the ranch and showed them the place in detail.
As his chief interest was centered in the mines he did not raise cattle, but he had one man to take care of his horses and generally help about the place. There was also an Indian cook, who was blackened by the sun and wind until his skin glowed with a dull color. Ned explained that the man who kept the horses and the barns was a mestizo.
“What is that?” asked Don.
“A man of mixed Spanish and Indian blood,” explained Ned. “Sometimes he is very funny. The Spanish in him gets very dignified at times and he is almost stately, and at other times he is just plain Indian, not much of anything. However, he has a passion for the horses and he is faithful, and outside of the fact that I have to drive him to work in the barns he is all right. I call him Yappi.”
Yappi was seen presently, a tall old man with curiously mixed white and black hair, a skin that was a mottled yellow, and dull black eyes. He bowed to them and passed on, apparently not at all curious. They inspected the barns and looked with considerable interest through Ned’s laboratory and the metals from the mines.
Supper was well served by Spanci the cook, and in the evening they sat on the long low porch talking until it was time to turn in. After a good sleep they were up, taking a trip with Ned to the mines. He led them through the tunnels and explained the complete workings to them, showing how the silver and lead was mined. This took up most of the day and they were thoroughly tired when night came.
Ned was not impressed by the loss of his letter. “Those fellows who attacked you have probably thrown it away,” he said. “I’ll write you another one sometime, dad!”
He asked the boys if they could ride and was delighted to find that they could. Jim, being a cavalry lieutenant at Woodcrest, was somewhat better at it than the others were, but they soon got accustomed to it. On the third day of their visit Ned proposed that they take a moonlight ride that night.
“The moon, as you noticed last night, is beautiful just at this time, and there is a lot more fun riding in the coolness of the night than in the heat of the day,” he said. “I think you will thoroughly enjoy it.”
After supper they mounted and rode out of the ranch grounds, the professor refusing to accompany them. It was a beautiful night, with a glowing moon and a sky splashed with stars and they rode for miles across the open country. The air was clear and cool, the mountains dark and mysterious near at hand, and the boys from Maine enjoyed every minute of it. As they were returning Ned spoke up:
“When we get to the top of the next hill I’ll show you the ranch of my neighbor, Senorita Mercedes,” he said.
His tone was casual, but the boys, remembering what the professor had said about Ned’s interest in the senorita, felt that he was himself interested in looking at the place where she lived. He had not mentioned her name since they had been there, and Terry did not know anything about her. Nor had they discussed the treasure as yet, thought the boys, but that would no doubt come soon.
They topped the rise and paused to rest the graceful, lively horses while Ned pointed to a small white ranch which gleamed brightly in the moonlight. The house itself was small, but the outlying barns were large, and Ned explained that the senorita was at present raising cattle.
“Not many of them,” he went on. “Just enough to keep her alive and eating regularly. She has three ranchman and an overseer.”
Near the ranch some trees and mesquite bushes grew and Don was looking toward this clump fixedly. He thought that he had detected some movement there but was not sure. Ned pulled the rein and turned his horse’s head.
“Well, I guess we had better be getting back,” he said.
“Wait a minute,” called Don, in a low voice. “There are two men coming out of that clump of trees near the ranch and creeping toward the house.”
Ned spun around in his saddle and looked closely. Two men were crossing an open space toward the house, taking care to keep as much as possible in the shadows. Gaining the side of the house they crept to a window and one of them reached up and pushed it. Instantly it swung open.
“Are those fellows her ranchmen?” asked Terry.
“I don’t think so,” said Ned. “That is the library window they just opened. By George, I think they’re going in that window!”
“I suppose that’s what they are opening it for,” nodded Jim.
Ned dug his heels into the flank of his horse. “Then come on,” he shouted, as the first man slipped through the window. “We’ve got to see what is going on in Senorita Mercedes’ ranch!”
CHAPTER VII
SACKETT’S RAID
They galloped down the long sloping hill rapidly, unobserved by the two men who were entering the Mercedes ranch. The second man had leaped lightly in the window and disappeared from sight. It was evident that they feared no interruptions for they did not even glance out and the party of boys arrived in the yard without having warned the men of their coming.
But once in the yard the ring of the horses’ hoofs on the hard packed soil reached the ears of the men inside the house. Two heads appeared swiftly at the window, at the same time that a candle flickered upstairs. The men, seeing the party of boys, jumped from the window with one accord.
“Sackett and Abel!” cried Don, as he jumped from his horse.
All the boys had dismounted, which was precisely the wrong thing to do, for the two men began to run swiftly for a small patch of trees and bushes which stood at the edge of the senorita’s property. Ned rushed forward and seized Sackett, who promptly felled him with a blow on the chin, while Abel kept on going and entered the grove several yards ahead of his pursuers. Sackett soon joined him, and before Terry, who was in the lead, could reach him, he had joined Abel, who was already on horseback with a second rein in his hand. Sackett tumbled into the saddle and the two men thundered away across the plains.
“Shall we go after them?” shouted Jim, as the senorita appeared on an upper balcony.
“No,” cried Ned. “They have too big a start, and I want to find out what they were doing here.”
Somewhat reluctantly the boys turned away, while the two outlaws put greater distance between themselves and the ranch party. The senorita, recognizing Ned in the moonlight, hurried back to her room and soon appeared at the side door of the ranch house.
“Senor Ned, what is it?” she called, and the boys were attracted by her soft and gentle voice.
Ned and the boys walked to the steps, taking off their hats, and Ned spoke up. “We were riding by at a distance, senorita, and we paused to look down at your ranch. While we were looking these two men that just rode away broke in a side window and entered the house.”
Ned then went on to introduce his friends, to whom the senorita bowed with a stately grace. They were quite taken with her beauty and charm, her fine olive skin and her flashing black eyes. She drew their admiration, for she was not the least bit terror stricken by what had happened, but only thoughtful and puzzled.
“In the library you say, Senor Ned?” she puzzled. “But why do you think they should want to go in my library? What is it that is in there?”
She spoke remarkably good English, with only a slight accent. Ned shook his head.
“Senorita, I do not know. May we inspect your library and see if anything is missing?”
“Certainly. Do come right in, and welcome,” she replied, and led the way into the small library of the Mercedes ranch.
It was a square room filled with books, in cases reaching to the ceiling. A single table was there, and two comfortable chairs. Upon examination the boys found that a few books, in a section which was filled with ancient, hand-written manuscripts, had been handled by the men.
“It is evident that those fellows were about to steal some of your valuable manuscripts, senorita,” remarked Ned, after they had made an examination.
“Yes,” nodded the girl. “But I wonder how those men knew that I had any books?”