“By George!” exclaimed Billie, as he advanced to meet Pedro, “you surely did come right in the nick of time. I thought I’d have to become dog-meat, just to keep the others out of trouble, and I was going to do it.”
“I don’t think that would have been necessary,” declared Donald, as he came out from the kitchen, followed by Adrian. “But I’m glad you got out of the trouble without killing the peon’s dog. I know how much the peons think of their dogs—more than their wives.”
“I’m very sorry,” said Pedro, “that you should have had so much trouble, and that I did not take you home with me yesterday. My uncle says I was very rude not to have brought you home to breakfast.”
“Breakfast!” exclaimed Billie. “How could you have taken us home to breakfast? It was after eleven o’clock when we met you.”
Donald laughed.
“You don’t understand,” he said; “in Mexico they call the meal that we name breakfast simply coffee, as that is all they have to break their morning fast. From eleven to half-past twelve they have what they call almuerzo, or breakfast. Along about five o’clock they have cena, or supper, and dinner comes anywhere from seven to ten o’clock. This they call comida.”
Billie’s round face expanded into a broad smile.
“Four meals a day!” he finally exclaimed. “Fine! I think I’d like to live in Mexico.”
“I’m sure we’d like to have you,” laughed Pedro, “and now that I have found you again, you must come with me and have coffee. Then my uncle will send someone with you to show you the short way back to the Rio Brava.”
The Broncho Rider Boys looked at each other knowingly as Adrian explained that they were not at all anxious to find a short road back, as they wished to see as much of the country as possible.
“That’s fine,” was Pedro’s exultant exclamation, “for, if you are in no hurry, you can stay with us several days, and I can take you up the Concho. I surely want to do something to show you how much I appreciate what you did for me yesterday. My uncle thinks I was in great danger.”
“How so?” asked Donald.
“Get onto your horses, and I’ll tell you as you ride along,” replied Pedro. “Here, Fillipe!” he called, “come and saddle the horses.”
Not only Fillipe, but several other peons, who had made their appearance while the boys were talking, hastened to obey Pedro’s command, and in a very few minutes the four boys were jogging along toward the Hacienda del Rio, for so the estate of Pedro’s uncle was called.
“Now for the story,” laughed Billie, “and I wish you would tell it in English so I can understand.”
“If you won’t laugh at my English,” said Pedro, “I’ll try.”
“What, do you speak English?” asked Adrian.
“A little. My sister, Guadalupe, speaks it well, as does my uncle; but they call me the lazy one, because I have never tried very hard. I’m sorry now I didn’t try harder.”
“Well, try now,” insisted Billie. “We have so many foreigners in the United States and so many speak poor English that we can understand most anything.”
Pedro laughed heartily.
“I hope I can do as well as some; so, to begin with, I must tell you something about my home. We live on a large hacienda, in the State of Michoa-can, and our house is built only a little ways from the shore of a small lake, Tiasca by name. On the other side of this lake are mountains, very much like these across the Concho,” and he pointed across the river to the west.
“On the shore of the lake, nearest the mountains, is a little village of fisher-folk, but they are a bad lot. They are lazy and dishonest. They steal at every opportunity. Hardly a week passes that some of them do not cross the lake and steal chickens, pigs, goats, and even cattle. We call them pirates, because they come over in little boats. They have always been bad, but since they became Zapatists they are worse than ever.”
“What do you mean by Zapatists?” asked Adrian.
“Followers of the robber, Zapata. You must have heard about him.”
“Now that you explain, I believe I have. So these men are followers of Zapata?”
“Yes; and before the days of President Madero they were a part of what was known as the Las Cruces robbers.
“Well, ever since my father was a young officer he has always had trouble with these pirates.”
“Do they ever try to break into your house?” queried Billie.
“They did once, and that is part of the story. It happened when Guadalupe was a baby and I was only a little more. My father was away at the time with almost all the rurales in the district, and the robbers must have known that there were only a few peons left to guard the house.
“Three of them came to the gate and demanded that my mother give them five hundred dollars. She refused, and they threatened to come and get it. Mother was not much afraid, as our house is very strongly built of stone; but still she took every precaution to see that they could not break in; but that night about twenty-five of them surrounded the house and sat down to a regular siege.”
“Couldn’t you shoot them from the windows?” asked Billie.
“I suppose we could, but mother didn’t wish to do that. So she just kept everything shut tight, expecting every hour that my father would return.
“After they had been there three days, one of our peons, Jose Gonzales, who had been away to Morelia on an errand, came home. He said that, as he came up the shore of the lake, he heard a group of the pirates saying that they were getting afraid to stay longer, and that they were going back across the lake. Sure enough, they did, and my mother was so relieved, especially to have Jose home, for he was considered above the ordinary run of peons, that she ceased her watchfulness and turned the care of the place over to Jose.
“Along about midnight my sister was taken sick, and my mother was obliged to get up to take care of her. As she came out into the rotunda and cast her eyes across the patio toward the great front gate, she saw a sight which frightened her nearly to death. Jose was standing in the half-open gate, talking to men whom my mother knew must be the pirates. She realized at once that he was a traitor, and, drawing quickly back into her room, she barred the door as best she could, and waited to see what would happen.
“She didn’t have long to wait, as the robbers soon attempted to get in; but for a long time the bar held. Then Jose brought a great hammer and the door finally yielded.”
“The villain!” exclaimed Billie, whose fighting blood was stirred by the recital of such treachery.
“It is even worse than you think,” continued Pedro, “for, as the pirates rushed in, Jose called out, as he pointed to my father’s strong box: 'There is the silver. You can have that, but the señora is mine.’
“At this he seized my mother, and started to carry her out of the door; but, as he turned, he saw a sight which caused him to loose his hold and draw his knife, for there in the door stood my father, his drawn saber in his hand and death in his eye. He took a step forward and aimed a blow at Jose, but as he struck, my mother, overcome with joy, seized him around the knees and spoiled his aim. Instead of cleaving Jose’s skull, he struck a glancing blow and cut off his left ear. We found the ear later.”
“Good for your father!” exclaimed all the boys. “But then what happened?” and they drew their horses down to a walk, so interested had they become in the story.
“Well, for a moment the robbers were surprised by the attack, but when they saw my father was alone, they all turned upon him and he would undoubtedly have been killed, but that his men, who had by this time overpowered the robbers in the patio, came to his aid. The bandits were soon secured, but in the fight and darkness, Jose escaped. We afterwards learned that he had been an accomplice of the bandits for years and had planned this attack for the sole purpose of stealing my mother. His aim was to become a gentleman and live in the City of Mexico, and for a while he did. Later my father learned of his whereabouts and his arrest was ordered, but again he managed to escape.
“During the Madero revolution he tried to win the good graces of President Madero, but his record was too bad and President Madero ordered him out of the city. Since that time he has threatened vengeance on the President and all his friends. It is even said he is trying to start a new revolution. He is none too good, I can tell you.”
“But what has all this to do with your great danger?” asked Adrian.
“Why, my uncle thinks Jose is the man from whom you rescued me yesterday.”
“What!” exclaimed all the boys in chorus. “That man!”
“That’s what my uncle thinks. He has been reported in this vicinity. He has changed his name to Rafael Solis and I heard one of the peons yesterday address him as Don Rafael.”
“I didn’t notice that he had lost an ear,” said Donald.
“No,” said Billie, “but you noticed that he wore his hair unusually long, didn’t you? I expect he does that to hide the missing ear.”
“That’s it exactly!” exclaimed Donald. “I knew there was something strange about his appearance, but for the life of me I couldn’t tell what it was.”
“Well, that’s it,” replied Billie, “and if I ever get my eye on you again, Mr. Don Rafael, I’ll know you.”
“You mustn’t say Mr. Don Rafael,” explained Pedro. “Don means Mr. If you want to, you can call him Don Rafael; but as for me I shall think of him always as Jose the traitor.
“But here we are at my uncle’s house and he will be more than glad to see you.”
As the little cavalcade drew up in front of the great white house, a peon opened the big gate and the quartette rode into the patio. Other servants quickly took their horses and led them to the stable, while Pedro escorted the boys up a broad flight of stairs to the second floor, on which were located the parlors, library and dining room. It was a beautiful home and our boys felt just a little bit awkward on coming into such a sumptuous house dressed in their travel-stained riding garments. But if they had any sense of being out of place, they were quickly put at their ease by a kindly faced gentleman of middle age, who advanced to the head of the stairs and greeted them pleasantly.
“These are the brave Americans who gave me such unexpected assistance yesterday,” said Pedro by way of introduction.
“I guessed as much,” replied his uncle.
“And this is my uncle, Don Antonio Sanchez,” said Pedro to the boys, “he is just as glad to see you and to have you here as I am. And uncle,” he continued without stopping to catch his breath, “they are going to stay with me several days, aren’t you?” to the boys.
“I don’t think we promised, did we?” replied Donald, “but we will stay today, anyway. We shall be pleased to see something of the Concho valley.”
Don Antonio lead the way to the dining room, where the boys were introduced to Pedro’s aunt and to his sister, Guadalupe.
If the boys had been embarrassed upon meeting Don Antonio, they were more so upon meeting Guadalupe, who was something different from any girl they had ever met. When she was introduced to Billie and called him Don Guillermo, he turned as red as a turkey gobbler and wished he was somewhere else; but, after a few minutes, he forgot his embarrassment in his morning meal—for when it came to eating, there was nothing could interfere with the business of the moment.
Don Antonio and his wife were much pleased with the boys and asked Donald and Adrian many questions about the big ranches from which they came. Both were able to give him all the information he wanted and he insisted that after breakfast all should ride over his hacienda and see the American improvements he had put upon it.
A member of Don Antonio’s household who attracted much attention from the boys was a great Newfoundland dog, by the name of Tanto. He was Guadalupe’s special property, and at first eyed the boys with a good deal of suspicion. But, when he discovered that they were friends of the family, he became quite as friendly as any of the others.
“He seems very fond of you,” said Billie to Guadalupe, in an attempt to make himself agreeable to the beautiful señorita.
“Yes, indeed,” she replied. “I raised him from a puppy. Are you fond of dogs, Don Guillermo?”
“Oh, yes,” interrupted Adrian, who overheard the remark, “Don Guillermo is very fond of dogs. If you could have seen him playing with them, about daylight this morning, you would have thought so,” at which remark all the boys laughed heartily, and Billie had to explain his adventure.
“Well, I think it was too bad that you should be caught in such a place; but Tanto will never do a thing like that. Will you, Tanto?” and she patted the dog’s head.
“Come on,” called Pedro from the patio, “if we’re going to look over the hacienda, let’s get started before it gets any warmer.”
Accompanied by Don Antonio, the boys rode from place to place over the great farm, along the eastern border of which the Concho river wound its way, while on the other side the mountains rose abruptly to several hundred feet. At the southern extremity the river approached almost to the foot of the mountains, making a narrow neck of land. Still farther south the river broadened out into quite a lake, upon which were a number of small boats.
As the boys turned to retrace their path, Adrian lingered a moment to watch the flight of a flock of water-fowl, and, as he did so, his attention was attracted to the movements of a boat, which had put out from the mountain-side, and which had started the flight of the water-fowl. It contained three men, and, as it slipped silently out of the shadows of the overhanging trees, there was something about the appearance of the man at the stern which seemed most familiar, although he had his blanket thrown over his shoulder in such a manner as to conceal his face.
At first Adrian started to call his companions, but upon second thought he decided to do a little reconnoitering on his own hook. He accordingly dismounted from his horse, and walked slowly around the trees which obscured his view. At his left was a little point of land, extending out into the water, and he slowly and cautiously made his way thither. From this point of vantage he obtained a good view of the river for quite a distance, and could see the boat without being seen.
It was very evident that the boat had come out of a little inlet about a hundred yards from the point upon which Adrian was standing, which appeared to be the mouth of a small brook. On the other side of the point, around which the boat was slowly being rowed, was a steep rock, at least three times the length of an ordinary skiff, beyond which it was impossible for Adrian to see. The boat headed directly for the rock, and a moment later disappeared behind it; but that one look was sufficient to convince Adrian that the man who had attracted his attention was the same who had tried to steal Pedro.
“I wonder what he is doing around here, anyway?” soliloquized Adrian. “No good, I’m sure. The best thing I can do is to hurry after the rest of them and tell them what I have seen. They’ll be wondering where I am.”
Hastily he scrambled up the bank to where he had left his horse, when, just as he raised his head above the edge, he felt a hand grasp his right foot, and he was pulled violently downward. For just a minute he clung to the shrubbery about him, and then, gaining his wits, he suddenly relaxed his hold and, turning half way round, push himself backward.
It was an old trick he had learned at school, and the result was that he came down on top, instead of underneath, the man who had grasped his ankle.
In another moment he was engaged in a rough-and-tumble fight, which proved of short duration, for Adrian was much more than a match for his assailant. Almost as soon as it takes to tell it, Adrian was sitting on top of a white-shirted peon, whose only weapon was a great stone, with which he had doubtless intended to intimidate, rather than hit, the boy.
“Well,” exclaimed Adrian, as soon as he had gained his breath sufficiently to speak, “what do you mean by dragging me down like this?”
At the sound of Adrian’s voice the peon turned his head and looked up at his captor in the greatest surprise.
“Pardon me,” he whined. “It was a mistake. I thought you were someone else.”
“Who did you think I was?”
“El niño de Sanchez”—meaning the Sanchez boy—whined the peon.
“Oh, you did, eh?” exclaimed Adrian. “Well, you come with me and let Don Antonio question you. I think he is looking for you.”
Adrian did not have to lead his captive far, for, when he reached the place where his horse was waiting for him, he saw the others returning. They had become concerned at his delay, and had come back to look for him.
“What’s the matter?” called Donald, as soon as he was within speaking distance.
“I’ve had a fight,” was the response, “and this is the result,” pushing the peon forward.
“Fight!” exclaimed Billie. “What were you fighting about?”
“Oh, nothing. This man tried to capture me, and I turned the tables, that’s all.”
“Explain,” said Don Antonio, looking first at Adrian and then at the peon.
“This man mistook me for Pedro, he says, and tried to drag me into the river, or somewhere.”
Don Antonio turned upon the peon fiercely.
“Is this true?” he demanded sternly.
“Forgive me, señor,” whined the peon, “I was ordered to do it.”
“Ordered!” thundered Don Antonio. “By whom?”
“Don Rafael.”
“Asi!” exclaimed Don Antonio, and his face grew even more stern. “So it is that scoundrel who put you up to this? Where is he?”
The peon remained silent.
“Where is he, I say?” repeated Don Antonio.
“I can’t tell.”
“Why not?”
“He would kill me, señor.”
“Have no fear. If you will tell me why you tried to take Pedro and where we can catch Don Rafael, as you call him, I will give you ample protection.”
Thus encouraged, the peon said that Don Rafael was hiding in the mountains a short distance from the river. He said that he had gathered about him a band of more than fifty men, and that he had told them they were to be part of a new army to overthrow President Madero and make Porfirio Diaz again president. In order to protect themselves, he told them they must make a captive of General Sanchez’s son, Pedro.
“I see,” exclaimed Don Antonio. “They want to hold Pedro as a hostage, in case any of them get into the hands of the law. Isn’t that it?”
“Si, señor,” said the peon, nodding his head emphatically. If this proved to be true then Donald’s guess had been along correct lines. This little fact seemed like a good omen to begin with. Now, if it turned out that this further prediction regarding the limited number of the rustlers also came to pass, and they could only catch them off their guard before dawn arrived, it would not be strange if they turned the trick, daring as their plans might appear.
“Now, first of all we’ve got to muffle our ponies’ heads so they can’t betray us by neighing,” announced Donald.
“A good idea, I say,” Adrian went on to remark, approvingly. “I’ve known the best trained cayuse going to let out a neigh when it scented some of its own kind near by. That’s a thing they just can’t help, seems like. So, the sooner we get their muzzles tied up the better.”
“You’ll have to show me how,” said Billie; “because that’s where my education’s been sorter neglected, so to speak. But I want to know, just stick a pin in that, please.”
He soon learned just how this could be accomplished by the aid of their blankets. The horses objected to such treatment, but had to submit in the end. And when the job had been completed they were so muzzled that they could not have whinnied, no matter how hard they tried.
Mounting them again the three boys moved cautiously ahead. It was their purpose to cover a cer- [Transcriber's note: missing line(s) of text at this place in original printed text.] can get away. The rurales can take care of the fifty others later on.“
“That is good advice,” declared Don Antonio. “Let us hasten back and send a messenger to Presidio del Norte, and then we can return and watch for Don Rafael.”
“I don’t see any use of all of us returning to the house,” declared Billie. “I’ll stay here and watch the river.”
“And I’ll stay with you,” declared Adrian.
“Suppose we fix it this way,” said Don Antonio: “Pedro and one of you return to the house and send the messenger, and I and two others will stay and watch the river, as Don Guillermo says.”
“If Don Guillermo’s willing,” replied Adrian, with a laugh at Billie’s Mexican name.
“Sure I’m willing,” said Billie, “and tell the rurales to hurry up or we’ll capture the whole bunch.”
The matter having been thus decided, Pedro and Donald returned to the house, taking the captured peon with them, while the other three hitched their horses and proceeded to the little point of land from which Adrian made his observation.
The morning was now far spent, and the sun was rapidly approaching the meridian; but for once Billie seemed to have forgotten that it was dinnertime. In fact, so interested was he in the adventure, that he seemed utterly oblivious of the sun itself, which beat down fiercely upon the trio, and made the shade almost a necessity. So interested was he, in fact, that he ventured to the very edge of the point, and peered eagerly in the direction of the great rock.
“I could almost swim around there,” he said to himself. “I’ve a great notion to do it.”
For a minute he stood undecided.
“If it wasn’t for my Marlin I would,” he mused. “As it is, I guess I’d better go around.”
He walked back toward the place where he had left the others, all the time looking for a place where he could get around behind the big rock.
“What are you looking after?” queried Adrian, as Billie passed the spot where he sat with his eyes glued on the river.
“I want to see what is the other side of that rock.”
“What good’ll that do? We can see way up the river from here.”
“I don’t know,” was Billie’s response, “but I’ve got a hunch to take a look.”
“Well, go ahead. Don Antonio and I will stay here. If you see anything, call.”
Slowly Billie forced his way through the fringe of bushes that lined the bank, and, little by little, climbed to the top of the big rock, from which he could gain just as good a view of the mountainous country at the side as he could of the river. What he saw caused him to drop hastily to the ground and crawl a step or two backward, for directly in front of him, not a hundred yards away, was a score or more men grouped around Don Rafael, who was addressing them earnestly.
Waiting to see whether or not he had been observed, and judging from the fact that there was no commotion from below that he had not, Billie cautiously peered through the foliage.
The spot upon which the men were gathered was right at the mouth of the little stream before mentioned. A boat, evidently the one in which Adrian had seen Don Rafael and his two companions, was tied to the bank.
So far as Billie could see, only three or four of the men were armed. They seemed a peaceable lot.
“I wonder what he is telling them?” mused Billie in a partly audible voice—a habit of talking with himself of which he seemed totally unconscious. “I wish I could get near enough to hear.”
Cautiously he crept nearer the edge of the rock, in the meantime straining every nerve to catch a word. Once he did catch the sound of Don Rafael’s voice, but he could not understand.
“The trouble is,” explained Billie to himself, “he is talking Spanish, and I’m not familiar enough with the lingo to distinguish the sounds. I wish he would talk English.”
Again he advanced his position a couple of feet.
The voice was more distinct, and, as Don Rafael became somewhat excited, Billie caught the words, “carbina” and “macheté,” which he knew referred to arms.
“By George!” suddenly exclaimed Billie, in a voice loud enough for anyone near him to have heard, “I’ll bet they’re talking about running guns into the country. I’ll bet we’ve stumbled onto the very thing we came out to find. I must hurry back and tell Ad.”
Unmindful of the men below, he jumped up from his recumbent position and started to leave the rock the way he had come. In his haste, he did not notice that the spot upon which he had been reclining was covered with moss, and, as he took his first step forward, his foot slipped; he grasped frantically at the surrounding bushes, to save himself, failed in his attempt, and the next moment pitched head first off the rock.
Vainly he tried to break his fall by catching at the shrubbery. His efforts only resulted in his turning almost a complete somersault and landing head first upon the sand, in the very midst of the men upon whom he had been spying.
As he fell, he gave one cry for help, and then, as his head came into contact with the hard ground, all around him became dark, and he knew no more.
The cry for help reached his companions in the midst of an animated discussion about Mexico and its needs, and they sprang to their feet on the instant. For just a moment they waited to hear the cry repeated, but, when it was not, Adrian threw a shell into his repeater, and started in the direction of the cry, closely followed by Don Antonio, whose greater age made him somewhat slower in his movements.
From the time the cry was heard until Adrian reached the summit of the rock, could not have been more than three minutes, but in that time the men and Billie had completely disappeared, the only thing remaining to give any idea of what had happened being Billie’s hat, which had fallen from his head in his fall, and the sound of oarlocks, which seemed to come from up the little creek.
The soft purling of water was the first sound which greeted Billie’s ear when he was again able to collect his thoughts. He was lying upon his back and looking up into darkness. He tried to move, but was unable to do so, and so closed his eyes and tried to think what had happened.
As his mind became clearer, he remembered his fall; and, as he became more and more normal, and could move his hands about, he realized that he was lying in the bottom of a boat and that the purling of the water was caused by the rapid movement of the boat through the water.
“I wonder what makes it so dark?” he thought. “It was dinnertime the last I remember, and I don’t feel as though I had been asleep very long.”
All at once the noise of the water ceased, and a moment later he heard the boat grate upon the sand. A man sprang over him and beached the boat, and Billie could feel it being pulled up onto the shore. Then a light appeared, and in another minute a man with a lighted torch in his hand came and peered into the boat.
“Buenos noches,” Billie exclaimed, after the man had been gazing silently into his face for several seconds. “Que hora es?”
He thought it must be quite right to say “good evening” because it was dark, but he asked the time to make sure.
The man made no reply, but turned and walked hastily away.
“That’s funny,” said Billie. “I think I’ll follow him.”
He attempted to arise, but a strange feeling in his head and in the pit of his stomach caused him to forego the attempt.
“I must be hungry,” he thought. “That’s what I get for going without my dinner. But I’ve been hungry before and never felt this way.”
Somehow or other he didn’t seem able to figure it out, and so he closed his eyes and lay perfectly quiet, with a sense of going to sleep.
The next time he opened his eyes, the whole scene had changed. He was lying on some sort of a coarse bed and by the light that came in through a small grated window in the ceiling, he could see that he was in a good-sized room, the walls of which appeared to be solid stone.
There were several pieces of furniture in the room, consisting of chairs, a table and a chest of drawers. On the walls were a couple of old-fashioned gun-racks, but no guns. The general impression it gave was not pleasant, and reminded him of some of the old Scotch prisons he had read about in the works of Sir Walter Scott.
“I wonder where I am,” was the first thought that came to his mind. “I’m out of the boat, that’s certain, but how did I get here?”
Again he attempted to arise, and this time found that he was stronger and able to sit up.
He made a careful inspection of the room, and discovered that there was only one door, directly facing the bed, and no windows save the one in the ceiling. Then he happened to think of his revolver, and felt for it. It was gone, but his holster and belt, filled with cartridges, still remained about his waist.
“I’m in a jolly nice fix,” he muttered to himself, and, for want of anything better to do, he lay back on the bed and closed his eyes, still wondering what had happened.
A few minutes later he heard the door open, footsteps approach his bed, and a hand was laid upon his head.
Billie looked up through half-closed eyelids, and was surprised to see bending over him a strange-looking individual, who reminded him strongly of the Zuni medicine man, only that his face was more refined.
“What do you think of him, Santiago?” asked a voice in English, whose owner Billie could not see, but which sounded somewhat familiar.
“I do not think he is badly hurt. I think he will be all right soon.”
“Bueno! Then I will leave him in your care; but see to it that he does not escape. Our safety may depend upon keeping him prisoner.”
“That’s nice, pleasant information,” thought Billie as he heard the speaker withdraw. “To be kept a prisoner, am I? Well, we’ll see about it.”
He uttered a faint groan and threw his hands over his head as though in pain.
“I’ll not get well as fast as they expect,” was his mental resolve. “I’ll make them think I’m too sick to get away until the right time comes.”
Again Billie felt a hand upon his head and again he observed the man beside him with half closed eyes.
When the man spoke again his voice was as soft as a woman’s.
“Where do you feel badly?” he asked.
Then for the first time it occurred to Billie to wonder how he happened to be addressed in English.
“It must be a friend,” he thought. So he replied in a voice that sounded most strange to him: “In my head. It seems too big for the rest of me.”
“No wonder,” said his companion—whether nurse or jailer, Billie was trying to determine. “You struck right on top of it when you fell off the rock.”
It was the first time that Billie had thought of the rock; but at the word, the happenings of all that had gone before came back to him.
“Now I remember,” he thought. “I must have fallen right in the middle of that bunch and they have brought me here—wherever this is. That must have been Don Rafael who was in here; but why are they all talking English?”
It was a bigger problem than he felt like answering, so he just lay quiet as he felt a cooling lotion applied to his head and a pleasant but very pungent odor filled the room.
“I think I’ll go to sleep if you don’t mind,” he finally said and he closed his eyes.
It did not seem to Billie that he had slept more than fifteen minutes when he again opened his eyes, but as he learned afterwards he must have slept nearly twenty-four hours. The strange man still stood beside him, holding in his hand a dish of steaming soup, while at the foot of the bed stood Don Rafael.
For just a moment Billie did not recognize either of them, but was brought to himself by hearing Don Rafael say:
“I am very sorry you met with such a serious accident. I suppose you must have been hunting and lost your foothold. I have sent word to your friends and am sure they will come for you as soon as you are able to be moved.”
He spoke with such an air of truthfulness, that if Billie had not been absolutely certain that he was a bad man, he would have believed him. However, he said nothing, and after a minute Don Rafael continued:
“You must not think I have any animosity against you for what you did in helping Pedro to escape me. That is a matter of Mexican politics of which you young Americans know nothing. The Americans are all my friends. Now you must eat your dinner. I will come and see you again.”
The word dinner sounded pretty good to Billie and so he felt justified in saying “thank you,” and sitting up in his bed took the soup from Santiago’s hand as Don Rafael left the room.
“You are much better,” said Santiago, as Billie ate his soup as only a hungry boy can.
“Yes, I think so; but I don’t feel exactly right yet.”
“You will in a little while. Do you want some more?” as Billie emptied the dish and handed it back.
“I usually eat something besides soup,” declared Billie. “Have you anything else?”
“Oh, yes,” and Santiago took from a tray which he had placed on the table a dish of black beans.
“Frijolles!” exclaimed Billie. “They look pretty good. I’m sure I can eat them,” and eat them he did.
“Are you Don Rafael’s mozo?” he asked as he finally finished his meal.
“Santiago is no man’s servant,” was the soft but dignified reply. “Santiago belongs to Mexico.”
“I wonder what he means by that?” thought Billie, but he didn’t think it wise to ask, so he simply said: “Oh!” But after a few minutes he ventured to ask:
“How do you come to speak English?”
“So that everyone who hears me will not understand. Don Rafael is the only one here who understands English. It is a foreign tongue.”
Again Billie replied “Oh!” to himself. He thought: “Funny, isn’t it, that English is a foreign language. I never thought of it before.”
“Do you wish to get up?” Santiago finally asked.
“After a little. If you don’t mind, I think I’ll lie here a while longer.”
“Very well. I’ll be back soon.”
For a long time Billie lay with wide-open eyes, looking at the ceiling.
“I wonder why I don’t feel like getting up?” he asked himself. “I guess I must have had a hard bump. I wonder where Donald and Adrian are, and if they really do know what has become of me. Of course they’ll come and get me after a while; but where do you suppose I am? It must be some sort of a cave, I guess.”
He looked at the grated window in the ceiling, through which came the sunlight as the leaves which almost covered it on the outside were blown backward and forward by the breeze.
“I wonder where that opening leads to,” he thought. “If I could only get through that, I’d be all right; but I reckon that’s impossible.”
Still he kept on looking and wishing he were on the other side of the grating.
All at once something shut off the light.
“Hello!” exclaimed Billie. “I wonder what’s happened?”
In another second the obstacle was removed and the sun shone in again, only to be shut out a minute later.
“By George!” exclaimed Billie, sitting up in bed, “there’s something looking in at the window. I believe it’s a dog.”
He got out of bed, and stood directly under the opening, looking upward.
“It is a dog,” he declared. “I wonder whose?” Then all of a sudden: “It might be Pedro’s. Suppose it is! Tanto! Tanto!” he called.
The animal gave a low whine, as of recognition.
“By George, I’m right!” declared Billie, becoming much excited. “There must be somebody with him. They must be looking for me. Tanto! Tanto!” he again called.
At this the dog gave a sharp bark and immediately disappeared.
For a long time Billie watched the opening for him to reappear, but he did not come back, and Billie finally went and lay down; but not for an instant did he take his eyes from the little window in the ceiling. He could tell by the way the glints of light moved about that fully an hour had passed, when again the opening was darkened and a face appeared at the grating.
“Don Guillermo! Don Guillermo!” a voice softly called, and then Billie recognized that his caller was Pedro’s sister, Guadalupe.
In order to explain Guadalupe’s presence at the grated window in the top of Billie’s prison-house, it is necessary to recount the happenings at the Hacienda del Rio and vicinity since the hour that Billie plunged from the top of the rock into the midst of Don Rafael’s band.
It was shortly after noon when Billie’s accident happened, and Donald and Pedro were on their way to send for the rurales. As we have seen, Adrian and Don Antonio ran to Billie’s assistance, but were too late to discover his whereabouts. They did, however, find his hat, and, in searching more closely, also discovered the print of many feet on the sand along the bank of the creek.
Upon making this discovery, Adrian led the way up the creek for several hundred yards, and finally arrived at a place where the creek seemed to flow right out from under the side of the mountain.
This solved the mystery. There was undoubtedly a cave under the mountain, which was entered by means of the stream. Adrian was for getting one of the small boats he had seen on the banks of the Concho, and going immediately to Billie’s rescue, but Don Antonio advised that nothing be done until the rurales arrived and there was a sufficient force to arrest Don Rafael and his band.
Adrian finally agreed to the plan, and, after a careful survey of the location, he and Don Antonio returned to the house.
When Donald heard what had happened he was even more insistent than Adrian had been that they should proceed at once to examine the cave. If they found it was in possession of Don Rafael and his band, Donald was in favor of forcing their way in, no matter what the opposition.
“I am sure that would be very unwise,” declared Don Antonio. “Our messenger is already on his way to Presidio del Norte to summon the rurales. They will certainly be here by daylight tomorrow morning. Then we can go in force and will be sure to succeed. If only four of us go, we will probably be overpowered by numbers and your friend may suffer. Let us have patience.”
“Well,” replied Donald slowly, “I’ll agree to wait until morning; but, if the rurales are not here by that time, I shall go after Billie, if I have to go alone.”
“You won’t have to go alone,” said Adrian. “You know that.”
“Indeed you won’t,” chimed in Pedro. “I remember what you did for me.”
The night passed slowly to our boys, and they were up the following morning at sunrise. Coffee was served soon after, and still the rurales had not arrived.
A few minutes later the messenger sent to summon them returned to say that, owing to a report that a quantity of arms were to be run across the river lower down the Rio Grande, most of the rurales had been sent thither, and would not return till morning. This meant they could not possibly reach the Hacienda del Rio before noon.
“That settles it,” declared Donald. “I’m going to find Billie.”
“And I, too,” said Adrian. “I’ll bet the place the rurales have gone is at the same place we lost old Bray.”
“Where was that?” asked Don Antonio.
“At the hacienda of old Pablo Ojeda,” replied Adrian, and he told of their experience.
“I have heard of him often,” said Don Antonio. “He has always been suspected of smuggling across the border—not only cattle, but liquor, ammunition, and all dutiable goods.”
“I should think the rurales would lock him up,” said Pedro.
“They have, several times, but he has always managed to escape punishment. He has some sort of political influence, which has helped him escape.”
“Well, I don’t care what they do with the old chap,” said Donald. “I’m off to find Billie.”
“I shall stay and guide the rurales,” said Don Antonio. “You boys go and do all the scouting you wish; but take my advice and do nothing rash until I come with the rurales.”
Promising him they would be careful, the little party of three set out, and Don Antonio went to his study to do some writing. Guadalupe, who had stood silently by, listening to the conversation, followed the boys to the great gate, and waved them a good-by, after which she returned to her room and tried to busy herself in her daily tasks. But somehow she could not become interested in her work, and, a little later, calling Tanto, she wandered out into the fields, finally straying to the bank of the river.
For a time she sat on the bank, watching the flowing water, and thinking about the three boys, who had so unexpectedly come into her life. She was much interested in them and their adventures, and her thought went out especially to Billie, whose captivity seemed most hard.
“And he is in all this trouble just because he helped Pedro to escape Don Rafael,” she thought to herself, not knowing that the boys had a mission of their own. “I wish I could do something to help him.”
After a while she arose and walked slowly up the river, toward the spot where Billie disappeared.
“I mustn’t be walking in this direction,” she suddenly thought, “I might get into trouble.”
Espying a cow-path, which seemed to lead away from the river, she turned to the left, thinking that she would come out into the open field after a little. Instead, she found herself going deeper into the woods, and after a few minutes again sat down to rest, before retracing her footsteps.
She called Tanto, but he did not seem inclined to lie down. Instead, after the manner of dogs, went off on an exploring expedition of his own.
Guadalupe must have fallen asleep, for she was awakened by Tanto licking her face.
“Go away,” she exclaimed, springing to her feet, and then she noted that it was afternoon.
“I must have slept a couple of hours,” she thought. Then, as she started back by the way she had come: “Come, Tanto, we must be going.”
But Tanto refused to go, and when she turned to call him, he indicated by every means he could that he wanted her to go in the opposite direction.
“What is it?” she asked.
Tanto barked loudly, and again started off in the opposite direction, stopping every few feet and looking back to see if she were following.
“Do you want me to go that way?” she asked, taking a few steps toward him.
The dog barked joyfully and gave every evidence of pleasure.
“Well, go on, then,” she finally said. “You may know the way home better than I.”
Off went Tanto on a gentle trot and Guadalupe followed as best she could.
Tanto led the way up a little hill and down the other side to a ravine of some depth. It didn’t look very inviting, and Guadalupe stopped.
“I’m sure this isn’t the way home,” she exclaimed. “Come on back, Tanto.”
But the dog refused to obey, and continued his antics.
“Well,” thought the girl, “I might as well see what he has found,” and she again followed him until he came to a spot were the path terminated abruptly in front of a steep bank which was covered with vines and underbrush.
Up this bank Tanto scrambled, and, with nose to the ground, emitted several sharp barks.
“What is it?” asked Guadalupe, as she, too, climbed to the top of the bank, noticing as she did so that she could see the river through the trees fully half a mile away.
Again the dog barked and put his nose to the ground, while, with his feet, he began to scratch among the leaves.
Looking down to see what he was trying to get, Guadalupe saw the grating, and, a moment later, she was down upon her knees beside the dog.
The grating was partly covered with leaves, so that at first the girl could not make out what it was. Brushing these aside, the opening was revealed, and a moment later she had her eyes down as close as she could get, and was peering into the darkness.
As her eyes became accustomed to the darkness, she discovered that she was looking into a large room, and gradually she could make out the various pieces of furniture. Then she discovered there was someone on the bed, and having no doubt as to who it was, she called:
“Don Guillermo! Don Guillermo!”
This was the sound which had attracted Billie’s attention.
“Is that you, Don Guillermo?” she asked.
“Yes,” came the whispered reply.
“Are you hurt?” she next asked.
“Not much.”
“Are you a prisoner?”
“Yes; but I’m not going to be long.”
Guadalupe could see that he was getting upon his feet, and partly arose to shift her position, when Tanto sprang back with a deep growl. The next instant she felt herself seized from behind, and, when she would have screamed, a hand was placed firmly over her mouth.
Guadalupe was a girl of spirit. Through her veins flowed the blood of fighting ancestors, and, when she felt herself so suddenly seized upon, she had no mind to give up her freedom without a struggle.
Wrenching herself free, she gave one scream. Before she could repeat it, she heard Tanto utter a fierce growl, and the next minute felt her captor fall.
Turning quickly to discover what had happened, she saw that Tanto had grasped her assailant by the throat, and that man and dog were engaged in a fierce fight upon the ground at her feet.
Even while she looked the man ceased to struggle and lay still.
Calling to the dog, Guadalupe started to leave the spot, but was prevented by the appearance of two more men. They both started back with surprise, at sight of the girl and dog, and the lifeless figure at their feet.
Turning from the prostrate form, Tanto drew back, facing the newcomers.
“Caramba!” exclaimed one. “Shoot the brute. I’ve left my pistol in the cave.”
“And I, too,” said the other. “I have nothing but my knife.”
“Well, then, use your knife. I’ll take care of the girl,” and he advanced upon Guadalupe.
But Tanto’s blood was up. Everyone but Guadalupe was an enemy. As he stood by the girl’s side, with lips drawn back and every hair erect, he was a foe to be considered. The taste of blood had made him wild. Before the speaker had taken five steps, the dog was at his throat. The force of the attack carried both dog and man to the ground, where for some seconds they fought desperately. But the unarmed peon was no match for the great beast. In a few minutes the conflict was over, and a second figure lay stretched upon the earth, while Guadalupe—unnerved by the sight—covered her face with her hands.
She was brought back to herself by a soft voice saying: “Call off your dog, señorita, and I will help you to get away from here.”
Guadalupe raised her eyes in surprise.
“You need have no fear,” the speaker continued. “I am not making war on women. Call off your dog, or I shall be obliged to kill him,” and Santiago, for it was he, drew a revolver from his breast.
Seeing that the man was armed, when he had declared to his companion that he was not, Guadalupe perceived that he must be friendly, and so called to the dog.
At first Tanto was not inclined to mind, but, after a second command, he left his last victim and placed himself at Guadalupe’s side.
“You can see I could kill your dog,” explained Santiago. “I could have killed him before. But I have no love for these,” and he gave the two bodies a contemptuous kick. “Keep your dog at your side and follow me before someone else comes.”
Even as Santiago spoke, they heard voices, and other men came crashing through the bushes some distance away.
“This way,” said Santiago, and he started in an opposite direction.
But they had no more than reached level ground than they heard voices on the other side.
“It is impossible for us to get away without being seen,” said Santiago. “Can you send the dog home?”
“Yes.”
“Then do so, and trust to me.”
Bending over Tanto, the girl said in a firm, low voice: “Go home, Tanto! Go home and bring my father!”
The dog looked at her earnestly for a moment and then at Santiago.
“Go!” again said Guadalupe, and she reached out and took Santiago’s hand. “No one is going to harm me.”
The dog gave a low whine, as though he perfectly understood, and bounded away through the underbrush. As he disappeared, Santiago fired his revolver into the air and advanced toward the approaching footsteps. A moment later a dozen of the smugglers appeared.
“What’s the meaning of this shooting?” asked the leader.
“Go to the top of yonder mound and see for yourself,” was Santiago’s reply.
Several of the men hastened to follow the instructions. They scrambled up the mound, where they recoiled in fright at the sight of their comrades.
“How did it happen?” asked the leader, as he returned to where Santiago and Guadalupe were standing.
“Ask the girl,” replied Santiago. “All I know is that I came up from the room below to bring an order to Louis and Leocadio, who are on guard at this place. I found them both as you see them. The girl and her dog were running away as fast as they could. I fired a shot at the dog, but missed him. I captured the girl, and am going to hold her for a ransom.”
The leader looked at him incredulously. Then to Guadalupe he said:
“How could a dog kill two men?”
Guadalupe looked at Santiago, but made no reply.
“Tell him,” said Santiago. “Tell Fillipe how it happened.”
“I don’t know,” declared Guadalupe. “One man seized me and Tanto sprang upon him. A few minutes later the other came.”
“Who is the girl?” asked Fillipe.
“She belongs at the Hacienda del Rio,” replied Santiago.
“Asi!” exclaimed Fillipe. “This is good news. Don Rafael will be glad to get her. Come along!”
He seized Guadalupe by the arm and started to lead her away, but Santiago interfered.
“Hands off!” he said. “She belongs to me. I’ll take her to Don Rafael, and, if there is any ransom, I shall have it.”
Although Santiago’s words were spoken in a low, soft tone, Fillipe obeyed, and the entire party left the place and proceeded by a circuitous route to the rear of the little chain of foothills which bordered the river. After a walk of some five or ten minutes they approached a clump of bushes in front of which a Mexican was standing guard. He stepped aside, and the men entered the bushes, which Guadalupe soon discovered concealed a door in the hillside. At a knock from Fillipe the door was opened, disclosing a passageway through which the men and their captive proceeded, closing the door behind them.
They had no sooner disappeared than two figures emerged stealthily from behind a jutting rock and threw themselves upon the guard, whom they quickly overcame and bound.
The two figures were Donald and Adrian.
Having secured the guard and bound him firmly to a tree, the boys approached the door through which Guadalupe had just been led captive.
“I never suspected it,” said Adrian.
“Nor I,” said Donald, “I thought sure it would be Billie. Where do you suppose they caught her?”
“I can’t imagine. You don’t suppose they have attacked the house, do you?”
“Hardly.”
“Where do you suppose this door leads to?”
“There must be some sort of a cave back in these hills,” and Donald left the door and began exploring the immediate neighborhood.
“By George!” he finally exclaimed, “I believe I’ve got it. You see these hills form a little ridge leading to the creek. Somewhere in here there is a cave which opens onto the creek, and these cutthroats have made some kind of an underground passage to the cave.”
Donald’s guess was a good one. The only thing wrong about it was the fact that the underground passage was not made by the men at present using it, but by others many years before—how long, no one knows.
“I believe you are right,” said Adrian, “and, if you are, what is the matter with following this ridge until we find the other entrance?”
“That’s just what I was going to suggest,” was Donald’s reply. “Come on!”
Suiting the action to the word, he ascended the hill, followed by Adrian.
Arrived at the top, the boys could see that they were some little distance from the creek and that the ridge upon which they stood was not continuous but broken and irregular. There were also two paths.
“Which of these paths had we better follow, Don?” asked Adrian.
Donald bent down and examined both carefully.
“I believe,” he finally said, “that this one on the left has been the most used. Suppose we take this?”
They did so, and after a few minutes approached the place where the bodies of the two smugglers were lying.
“What’s this?” exclaimed Donald, starting back as the two figures caught his eye.
Adrian made no reply, but stood staring in surprise at the unexpected sight. It was not a pleasant spectacle, and both the boys involuntarily turned away from the place.
Donald was the first to regain his composure. “Come,” he said, “this is no time for squeamishness. Something serious has occurred, and we have been in too many serious scrapes to falter now! Let’s see what has happened.”
They approached closer and examined the bodies.
“They have been killed by some wild beast,” declared Adrian. “They look just like sheep that have been killed by wolves.”
“Yes,” replied Donald, “or by dogs.”
“Why do you say dogs, Don?”
“I just have an idea; that’s all.”
Adrian wrinkled his brow. Then a smile of intelligence passed over his face.
“I see,” he exclaimed. “I have the same idea—Tanto!”
“Exactly,” replied Don. “But they have captured Guadalupe in spite of the dog.”
“By George, Don, you’ve hit it exactly! But where is the dog now? He must have escaped, or we should see his body here.”
“True,” replied Don. “But why should he run away? You’d think a dog which could do such a thing would stick to his mistress no matter what happened.”
“Sure you would. There’s a mystery here we must unravel. Where do you suppose Tanto is?”
As though in response to the question, there was a sharp bark from the thicket, and the next moment Tanto sprang up onto the mound and attacked one of the lifeless bodies.
Both the boys turned at the unexpected arrival, only to confront Don Antonio and an officer of the rurales, who clambered up beside the boys.
“What is the meaning of all this?” demanded the officer, gazing first at the boys and then at the dog and his victims.
“You know as much about it as we,” replied Adrian; “but anyone can guess what has happened,” and he proceeded to tell the officer about seeing Guadalupe taken into captivity by the smugglers and the finding of the bodies, while Don Antonio called Tanto away and ordered the peons who had followed him to cover the bodies with branches until they could be properly cared for.
“Well,” exclaimed the captain, for so the officer proved to be, “we have evidently run to earth a desperate band; but I am not sure whether they are simply smugglers or revolutionists.”
“The presence of Don Rafael leads me to believe they are the latter,” said Don Antonio.
“We shall very soon find out,” declared the captain. “My men will be here shortly, and we will force the door to the cave and run them out and capture them.”
“How?” queried Donald.
“Very simply! I will station a part of my men in front of the cave. Then I will force the rear door! If they try to escape by boat, they will be either captured or shot. If they turn and show fight, we will be in sufficient force to overpower them.”
“And, while you are doing this, what do you think will happen to our friend and to Don Antonio’s niece?”
“Yes,” echoed Don Antonio, “we must remember Guadalupe! We can do nothing until she is rescued!”
The captain removed his sombrero and scratched his head.
“I hadn’t thought of that,” he finally said.
“That is where Don Rafael is the smartest,” said Adrian. “That is why he was trying to capture Pedro.”
“What would you suggest?” asked Don Antonio, who had come to have a wholesome respect for the opinions of the American boys.
“I haven’t figured it out yet,” replied Adrian. “Have you thought of anything, Don?”
“Yes; I have thought of a number of things, but none that seems to meet the requirements.”
“How would it do to try and get into communication with Don Rafael?” suggested Adrian.
“Not a bad idea at all,” replied Donald; “but—hello! what’s the dog found?” he suddenly asked, as Tanto, with nose to the ground, began to wag his tail and utter a joyous whine.
The exclamation at once called the attention of the four to the little grated window, through which Guadalupe was looking when seized by the bandits, and Donald threw himself down beside the dog and peered into the space below.
“What do you see?” asked Adrian.
“Three figures,” whispered Donald, “but I can’t make out who they are. I wish we could pull out these iron bars!”
He seized the grating and pulled with all his might, but the bars refused to yield.
“If we only had a crowbar!” he exclaimed.
“Beat them down,” came a voice from below.
Donald started back in surprise for just a moment, then put his face close to the bars and whispered back:
“What did you say?”
“Beat the bars down! They are only held in their place by a frame which must be rotten.”
Donald repeated the instructions to the others.
“We haven’t anything to beat them in with,” replied Adrian. “Who is it talking—Billie?”
“I don’t know who it is,” replied Donald. “Sounds like a woman’s voice. Can’t somebody find a big stone?”
“Plenty,” said Don Antonio. “Here, hombres,” to the peons, “bring one of those big stones yonder.”
The men hastened to obey, and, with the stone for a sledge hammer, Donald quickly knocked out the iron bars, which fell noisily to the floor below.
The opening thus made enabled him to get his head in sufficiently to have seen the interior of the room, had it not been that he shut off his own light; but it was not necessary for him to see what was going on, for this time Billie was out of bed and talking to him.
“Is that you, Ad?” he asked.
“No, it’s Don. How are you, Billie? All right?”
“All except a little weakness in my legs and a bit of dizziness in my head.”
“Who is with you?”
“Guadalupe and Santiago.”
“Santiago who?”
“I don’t know his other name, but he’s all right. He’s looking out for us.”
“Are you a prisoner?”
“Sure. What do you suppose I’m doing here—taking a vacation?”
Donald could not help laughing at Billie’s characteristic reply, in spite of the seriousness of the situation, as he turned from the window to repeat his conversation to his companions.
“What had we better do?” he finally asked.
“Is your friend armed?” asked the captain.
Donald put the question to Billie and received a negative reply.
“Suppose you hand him your rifle and then find out just how things are in the room below.”
“Here, Billie,” called Don, “you take my Marlin and defend yourself to the last. How are things fixed down there?”
“Santiago can tell you better than I,” was the response. Whereupon Santiago explained to Donald the exact condition in the cave.
It appears that when the men who had captured Guadalupe took her before Don Rafael, he was filled with joy, and ordered that she should be kept with the greatest care.
“She will prove another and most valuable hostage,” he declared, and at once ordered her locked up in the same cell with Billie, which was the only place of its kind in the cave. When Santiago objected, he ordered him locked up also.
“And here we are,” explained Santiago. “There is but one door into the cell, and that very narrow, so now that we have two weapons, for I still have my revolver, we can prevent anyone from coming in. The only way they could get us out is to starve us out, which, of course, is impossible now that you are here.”
The information was received with great thankfulness by the rescuing party. In his attempt to make the escape of his prisoners impossible Don Rafael had put them in the one spot where, under the changed conditions, they were comparatively, if not perfectly, safe.
Very briefly Don whispered the proposed plan of attack to those within the cave, closing with an injunction to Billie to be on the alert and to make every shot count if the smugglers should attempt to force the entrance.
“And here’s something to keep up your courage,” he added, throwing into the cell the luncheon which had been given him when he left the Hacienda del Rio that morning. “You see, I remembered your failing.”
While this conversation had been going on, the rurales to the number of half a hundred, guided by Pedro, had arrived, and arrangements were at once perfected for an attack upon the smugglers’ stronghold.