Mustering his band, the captain of the rurales quickly formed his plan of attack. Ten of the company were to seize the two boats at the mouth of the creek and take their positions at the side of the big rock, whose slippery top had proved so disastrous to Billie. Ten others were to secrete themselves on the bank of the stream opposite the water entrance to the cave. The balance of the band were to force the door whose outer guard had been overpowered and bound by Donald and Adrian.
Having thus disposed his forces, the captain started with his division of thirty toward the door, with the understanding that he would not attempt to force an entrance until a shot from the river should advise him that the water forces were in position.
“What will you have us do?” asked Donald.
“Keep out of the way, so that you will not be shot,” laughed the captain. “That’s the proper thing for boys.”
“We’re not that kind of boys,” declared Adrian.
“Oh, well then,” answered the captain, “you just skirmish around on the outside to pick up any who might succeed in getting away! I don’t think you’ll have a great deal to do, for my men intend to bag the entire band.”
The plan suited the boys first rate and they proceeded immediately to take advantage of the instructions.
“I’ll have to station myself somewhere in short range,” declared Donald. “Having loaned Billie my Marlin, I have nothing but my six-shooter.”
“I reckon that’ll be sufficient. It looks to me as though the whole thing would be at short range and of short duration. I hope so. We’re not down here looking for trouble.”
“That’s surely the truth,” laughed Donald, “but somehow or other, we seem to have a faculty of getting mixed up in all sorts of things.”
“That’s because you are always trying to help some one out of trouble,” declared Pedro. “If it had not been for me, you would never have been mixed up in this at all.”
“It does look that way, doesn’t it?” laughed Adrian. “But appearances are sometimes deceitful, eh Don?” and he gave Donald a knowing look.
“They sure are; but let’s be hunting a place where we may be of service.”
“I’ll tell you what,” exclaimed Adrian after they had stood undecided for several minutes, trying to decide upon a position of vantage, “let’s station ourselves on that little knoll just above the door. Then if any should get by those guarding the river entrance I could pick them up with my rifle; while if any should be able to dash past the captain’s party, you can stop them with your Colt.”
“How about me?” asked Pedro.
“You can either stay with us, or follow Don Antonio.”
“I think I’ll stay with you. As you say, you seem to have a faculty for getting mixed up in things and this is one of the things I want a hand in.”
The boys had hardly reached the place they had selected, when a shot from the river front told that the flanking party had taken its position and a minute later the boys could hear the blows that were being rained upon the door to force it from its place.
“It isn’t quite as easy a job as the captain thought,” said Donald after the battering had continued for several minutes.
“I should say not!” declared Adrian. “He never will get in that way. Why doesn’t he blow it open?”
“Maybe he doesn’t know how!”
“Then we’d better go and show him! He’s wasting time.”
The words were hardly out of his mouth when the air was rent by a terrific explosion and great pieces of rock and a cloud of dust and dirt were thrown high into the air, almost burying the Broncho Rider Boys and their companion in the débris.
The smugglers had fired a mine which had been arranged for just such an attack.
As soon as the boys could gain their feet and free themselves from the pile of dirt which had been thrown up, they turned their attention to the rurales to see what might have been the damage done. Fortunately it was slight. Two men had been killed and three wounded, but not seriously. The worst feature of the explosion was that the rear entrance to the cave had been so blocked with the falling rock, that an entrance was impossible without much digging and clearing away of the rubbish.
However, if the rurales could not get in, neither could the smugglers get out, except by the river entrance. That they had no desire to do so was soon evident, for before the main force, accompanied by the boys, could reach the river front, the smugglers—or as many as could be loaded into three skiffs—emerged from the cave on the river side.
That they had not expected to meet any resistance in that quarter was evident from the fact that they were not at all prepared to fight, nor did they take any precaution to defend themselves until greeted by a volley from the rurales stationed on the opposite side of the creek.
But no sooner had they received the first volley, than they turned sharply up stream and a minute later replied with a well directed fire.
Immediately thereafter the ten men who had been posted behind the big rock clambered up to the top and from this position of vantage poured a volley into the boats. Almost at the same moment the captain led the main force around from the other side, thus taking the boats between two fires.
Seeing their hopeless position and realizing that they were greatly outnumbered, the smugglers threw down their arms and surrendered. The boats were quickly drawn ashore and the captured smugglers landed and placed under a guard.
“There must be at least as many more,” said Donald to the captain, when he had counted the prisoners and found there were only twenty-four. “During our scouting we have seen fully forty.”
“Is that true?” the captain asked one of the prisoners.
“Quien sabe” was the unsatisfactory reply.
“You don’t know, eh?” said the captain.
“No, señor capitan.”
“Perhaps I can help you,” said the captain. Then turning to one of his men: “Here, corporal, stand this man up against that rock, and if he doesn’t answer by the time I count ten, shoot him.”
Without a word the corporal obeyed and told off six men as a firing squad. The smuggler’s hands were tied behind him and he was placed with his back to the rock, while the rurales with carbines leveled stood ready to fire.
“Look, you,” said the captain as he took his position a little to one side. “At the word ten the men will fire and I shall not count very slowly either. Ready. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight——”
“There are forty-five besides the captain and Santiago,” broke forth the smuggler.
“Nine, ten, fire,” finished the captain, and at the word the carbines cracked and the smuggler pitched forward and lay motionless!
An exclamation of horror burst from both the American boys.
“Captain!” cried Donald. “It’s murder.”
“How could you after he had spoken!” exclaimed Adrian.
The captain shrugged his shoulders and lighted a cigarette.
“It had to be done sooner or later. It might as well be now as later.”
“But you broke your word!”
“Not at all. I told him if he did not speak I would shoot. I did not tell him I would not shoot if he did. You Americans are too tender-hearted.”
“I shall report the case to your superior officer,” declared Donald.
Again the captain shrugged his shoulders.
“I shall report it myself,” he said. “The man simply tried to escape and we shot him. It is the ley de fuga.”2
“Can such things be?” queried Adrian.
“You can see that they are,” answered Don Antonio, who had come up in time to hear the conversation. “In dealing with men of this class, when revolution is plotted on every hand, things are done in Mexico which would not be done could a stable government be established.”
“Before we are through with this band, you may wish that more of them could be thus disposed of,” declared the captain. “Remember that you have a companion in there who has not yet been rescued.”
The boys started as though they had been stung. In the excitement of the tragedy they had just witnessed Billie had passed entirely from their thoughts.
“We’re a nice pair of chums, ain’t we?” exclaimed Adrian. “No knowing what is going on inside that cave. Let’s get busy.”
Without waiting to see what the others might be going to do, Adrian started on a run for the window in the cave.
“If I can’t do anything more,” he thought, “I can at least tell Billie to keep up his courage! I wish I was in there with him.”
As he climbed up the mound, he noted that a little volume of smoke was coming out of the window, which now served as a chimney for the cell in which Billie was confined.
“Powder smoke!” he exclaimed as he drew near enough to get a whiff. “It must be from the explosion.”
He bent over the hole and tried to look into the cell, but could see nothing.
“Billie!” he called; but there was no response.
Again he called, this time more loudly, but still there was no answer, and Adrian’s heart fairly stood still with apprehension.
“I wonder what can be the matter?” he gasped. “By George, I wish I was in there!”
He had hardly uttered the words, when the place on which he was standing seemed to give way beneath his feet and he felt himself slowly falling.
It was not a long nor a hard fall, and, as he felt himself once more on a solid foundation, and looked up toward the sky, he saw he had not fallen more than twenty or twenty-five feet. What had really happened was that the roof of the cell, cracked by the explosion, had caved in with Adrian’s weight, and he was in the very place he was wishing he was, although the condition of the cell had materially changed since Donald had looked down into it less than twenty minutes before.
Before the explosion, the cell had been a room some thirty feet square and twenty or more feet high. Now it was half filled with dirt and pieces of rock, the door which had guarded its entrance had been crushed, and through the opening Adrian caught a glimpse of the front entrance to the cave and the water beyond.
But there was no sign of Billie or the smugglers.
Pulling himself together and grasping his Marlin firmly, so as to be ready for any emergency, Adrian stepped cautiously toward the broken door. Hiding himself as well as he could behind the shattered casemate, he peered out into the cave.
The room was empty and at first there appeared no way in which the smugglers could have left except by the river, seeing which Adrian breathed easier.
“They must have gone out like the others,” he thought, “and have been captured by the rurales.”
Having arrived at this decision, he walked boldly out toward the river entrance.
But he had not advanced ten paces into the main cave before a noose fell silently over his shoulders, and he felt himself jerked violently backward.
The very act, however, caused him to tighten his grip upon his rifle, and the weapon was discharged, the report vibrating with an echo that made it seem almost a cannonade. At the same time his head came into contact with the hard floor with such force that it completely stunned him.
In the moment of consciousness between the report of the rifle and the time his head struck the floor, he saw a figure leap forward out of the darkness, and as he lost consciousness the sound of his own rifle seemed to be taken up and echoed back by an innumerable number.
And that was just exactly what happened.
The figure that had leaped forward was Donald, and the volley came from the carbines of a score of rurales, who had followed him into the cave, and fired pointblank at the smugglers over Adrian’s prostrate form. The lariat in the hands of one of the smugglers had pulled Adrian to the earth, just in time to save him from the fire of the rurales.
For the next few minutes the battle in the cave raged with the utmost fierceness. The smugglers had taken their stand in an alcove, hewn into one side of the cave, a little above the floor level. A projecting shelf afforded them a slight shelter, and from this partially fortified position, they made a desperate fight. In fact, they were doing great damage among the rurales, and it had begun to look as though they might succeed in driving them to shelter, when a rattle of shots from their rear completely disconcerted them, and they threw down their guns and called out that they surrendered.
The next instant there emerged, seemingly out of the solid rock, three figures with blackened faces and tattered garments, who advanced toward the rurales. They were Billie, Santiago and Guadalupe.
“Don’t shoot!” cried Billie, as the rurales, thinking them some new foe, raised their carbines. “We are friends!”
“Billie!” shouted Donald, dropping his revolver and grasping his stout comrade in both arms. “What has happened to you?”
“We were in the explosion.”
“You look like you had been in a coal mine. Are you hurt?”
“Not a scratch—none of us!”
“Then look after Ad, while I help dispose of these cutthroats.”
“Ad!” exclaimed Billie. “Is he hurt?”
“I don’t know. There he is. Find out and do something for him as soon as possible.”
Billie hastened to do Donald’s bidding, but Santiago was before him. He raised the boy’s head onto his knee, and from a small flask forced a few drops of liquid down his throat. A moment later Adrian opened his eyes, gave one look at the two blackened faces before him, and uttered a yell that brought everyone to “attention” as though a bomb had exploded.
“What is it?” asked Donald, jumping to Adrian’s side.
“That’s what I want to know! What is it?” pointing his finger at Billie.
Donald burst into a loud laugh. He had been under the most intense excitement for hours, and, as the ludicrousness of the situation struck him, he could not have kept from laughing had a howitzer been pointed at his head. His overwrought feelings simply relaxed, and he fairly screamed with laughter.
Realizing the humor of the situation, Billie speedily joined in, and the combined laughter of the two was so infectious that, without at all understanding what it was about, the rurales and smugglers also began to laugh. It is probable that no battle ever fought had such a remarkable ending.
For Adrian, it was the best thing that could have happened, for it brought him to himself, and he discovered at once who the three black-faced individuals were; but it was a bad thing for the rurales. While they were indulging in their most enjoyable recreation, Don Rafael quietly withdrew into the darkness and disappeared into the opening through which Billie and Santiago had made their entrance.
It was a couple of hours later and the Broncho Rider Boys had just seen the rurales ride away toward Presidio del Norte with their prisoners. The two hours had been spent in a vain endeavor to find Don Rafael, whose sudden disappearance and escape had taken away much of the success of the expedition. The boys had just made another examination of the cave, and were now grouped together on the water’s edge, undecided what should be their next step.
“It is certainly the most mysterious affair I ever had anything to do with,” declared Donald, “and we have solved some pretty big mysteries.”
“Right you are,” said Adrian. “I thought the mystery of the Zuni medicine man was the biggest mystery we should ever have to unravel, but this beats it.”
“What was that?” asked Pedro, who was one of the company.
“It’s most too long a story to tell now,” replied Adrian, “but it was told in print a few months ago by a friend of ours, Mr. Frank Fowler, who wrote it into a book under the title of 'The Broncho Rider Boys Along the Border.’ I’ll send you a copy when we get back to the States. It was a mystery, all right, but we ferreted it out, hey, Don?”
“We sure did, and we must ferret this one out, too.”
“The most mysterious part to me,” said Billie, who up to this time had stood apart thinking, “is not the disappearance of Don Rafael, but the disappearance of Santiago. There is something unusual about him that I must know.”
“The captain didn’t seem to care much about his disappearance,” said Adrian.
“I know he didn’t, but he simply took him for another of the smugglers, while he believes that Don Rafael is the head of a new revolutionary movement. I am sure that this is not so.”
“What?” asked Don. “Don’t you think Don Rafael is stirring up a revolution?”
“I meant I didn’t think as the captain does about Santiago,” explained Billie.
“Oh! Well, what do you think about him?”
“I hardly know; but I don’t believe he is a peon. I believe he is an educated man and is here in disguise for some purpose.”
“What makes you think that?” asked Pedro. “He seemed like a peon to me.”
“That’s because you did not get well acquainted with him. I did; for, when you are in as tight a place as we were right after the explosion, it doesn’t take long to get acquainted.”
“What did he do?” queried Adrian.
“That would be hard to tell. It would be easier to tell what he did not do; but the thing that first attracted me was the way in which he cared for Guadalupe.”
“Speaking of Guadalupe,” exclaimed Adrian, “I’d forgotten all about her! What became of her?”
“Don Antonio took her home long ago,” replied Donald. Then to Billie: “Then what did Santiago do?”
“He just took charge of the both of us as though he owned us. He didn’t even appear nervous. You would have thought that he was in the habit of being blown up. A peon wouldn’t have done that! He would have thought only of himself.”
“That’s so,” declared Pedro; “I’ve seen them do it.”
“Well, Santiago didn’t. As soon as he had gained his feet after the explosion knocked him down, he picked Guadalupe up in his arms, and, calling out to me to follow him, he dashed out into the cave. The place was full of men, but they were for the most part busy getting into the boats. They evidently thought that the only attack they had to fear was from the rear and were all hurrying to get out.
“Without stopping to speak to anyone, he turned toward the rear of the cave, stood still for a moment, as though looking for something on the wall, and then gave a sudden push with his hand. As though by magic the opening appeared through which you saw the three of us come and by which Don Rafael escaped.”
“Then why can’t we find the place?” interrupted Adrian.
Billie shook his head slowly.
“That’s part of the mystery,” he finally said.
“Yes, and a big part,” declared Donald. “If we could locate that door, we could find Don Rafael. Don’t you think so, Billie?”
“I’m sure of it.”
“Then let’s find it!”
“I’ll show it to you,” said a soft voice, which came to them out of the semi-darkness.
At the sound of the voice the boys turned hastily and grasped their weapons.
“Don’t be afraid,” continued the voice. “No one is going to hurt you,” and out of the darkness stepped Santiago.
“I just said you were the greatest mystery,” exclaimed Billie, as soon as he saw who the newcomer was, “and now I know it.”
“Not a mystery,” declared Santiago, “but a patriot.”
“Which is even a greater curiosity in Mexico,” declared Donald.
“I am afraid you are right,” was the sad reply; “but there are still a few, and some day we will free Mexico from the rule of those who seek nothing but their own advancement.”
“To which class does Don Rafael belong?” asked Adrian.
Santiago’s usually mild face grew stern.
“To the wrong one, I fear. That is what I am trying to find out. I have been told he was a patriot. What I have seen today leads me to believe the opposite.”
Pedro had listened eagerly to what Santiago had been saying, but without speaking a word. Now he could contain himself no longer.
“He is a dog!” he exclaimed, “a would-be murderer and a thief. He knows not honor! He bites the hand that fed him, and he would now help to assassinate our good president, Francisco Madero!”
Santiago’s eyes flashed. “Have a care,” he said. “How do you know all this?”
“My father is a trusted friend of President Madero. He knows that the president has at heart the good of all the people, not the rich alone. Don Rafael, as you call him, was a trusted servant of my father. He betrayed his trust, and has become the vilest of the vile. I can give you the proof!”
For several minutes Santiago remained silent, thinking deeply. When he spoke it was with determination.
“You say you can give me proof,” he said. “You shall have the opportunity. Come!”
He quickly led the way to the place in the wall of the cave where the boys felt sure the secret door was hidden. With one foot he gave a sliding push to a triangular stone in the floor, and a moment later the secret opening was disclosed.
“No wonder,” exclaimed Billie, “that we couldn’t locate the door. We never thought that the key might be hidden in the floor. We only searched in the wall! What simpletons!”
Santiago smiled whimsically, but made no reply, as he led the way through the door.
“We will not need to close it now,” he explained, “as there is no one here whom we need fear.”
He took from a niche in the rock a small lantern, which he was about to light, when Donald drew from his pocket his electric searchlight.
“Take this,” he said, handing it to Santiago. “It is much better.”
Santiago took it in his hand and regarded it curiously.
“It is a strange instrument,” he said. “Is it safe to use it?”
“Why not?” queried Donald in mild surprise.
“It looks like magic. It might bring ill luck.”
“Oh, no,” laughed Don. “Everyone uses them where we came from.”
Santiago hesitated for a moment, and then said slowly: “It may be right for those who understand. For those who do not it is ill luck. Take it back. I dare not use it.”
Slowly Donald returned the searchlight to his pocket, while Santiago fumbled with the lantern which he was trying to light.
As the blue flame of the match cast a flickering light about the place, suddenly from out the darkness there sprang a figure with uplifted hand, and hurled itself upon Santiago. There was a muttered oath, a blow, and the figure darted through the still open door, and disappeared in the outer cave, while Santiago sank down upon the floor, murmuring to himself:
“The magic light! The magic light! The ill luck has come!”
“It’s Don Rafael! It’s Don Rafael!” shouted Pedro. “Don’t let him escape!”
He sprang after the fleeing figure, closely followed by Billie and Adrian, while Donald bent over the prostrate Santiago, examining his wound by the light of his electric.
A moment later there was a shot from without, but, while Donald still bent over Santiago, trying to stop the flow of blood from a wound in his shoulder, the others came back.
“Did you get him?” he asked.
“I didn’t even wing him,” was Billie’s crestfallen reply. “He must bear a charmed life. But I’ll get him yet, if I have to stay in Mexico all summer!”
Santiago raised his eyes, and a fierce smile played upon his lips, as he fixed his gaze upon Billie.
“Do you mean it, señor?” he asked.
“You bet I do!”
“Promise me!”
“Sure, if that will do you any good!” replied Billie lightly.
“Look out!” exclaimed Adrian. “That may mean more than you think!”
“I don’t care what it means,” declared Billie; “I’ve given my word, and I’ll stick to it!”
Santiago reached out and took him feebly by the hand. “You will never regret it,” he said. “When you have made your promise good, come back to me for your reward.”
And then the strange man swooned in Donald’s arms.
Several days have elapsed, days filled with anxiety over the fate of Santiago, and once more the boys find themselves in the saddle, headed for the Rio Grande.
“It sure does seem good to feel your pony between your knees,” exclaimed Donald, after they had galloped along a couple of miles at a lively rate, the horses themselves setting the pace after their days of rest.
“That it does,” replied Billie, “especially when your mind is at ease. I shouldn’t be enjoying myself at all, were I not sure that Santiago was on the road to recovery. That certainly was a nasty cut. I hope this trail will lead us to where we want to go.”
“I can see no reason why it should not,” declared Adrian. “It is as plain as the nose on your face.”
“And that’s pretty plain in your case,” laughed Donald, for it was a well-known fact that Adrian’s nose was his most prominent feature.
“I wish I could see it that way,” insisted Billie. “It looks to me as though this were a good deal of a wild goose chase.”
“I don’t see how you figure it,” retorted Adrian, and he put his hand into his inside pocket and took therefrom a piece of paper. “Here is the address as plain as can be: 'Rafael Solis, Presidio del Norte, care Señor Pancho Villa.’ What more do you want?”
“I want to know who Pancho Villa is, and where he lives! There is nothing sure we can locate such a man.”
“Santiago says he is well known.”
“Yes, for a peon,” said Billie, determined not to be satisfied.
“Santiago says he is more than a peon. He says he is a great man.”
“That may be so—in the eyes of Santiago; and still he may amount to very little in a place as big as Presidio del Norte.”
“To hear Santiago talk about him,” interjected Donald, “you’d think he was a great general.”
“That’s because he was the head of a little band of what Santiago calls patriots during the Madero revolution,” replied Billie.
“Well, that ought to be enough to identify him,” declared Adrian exultantly. “I’ll bet we can find him.”
Billie was not satisfied, but as the road at this point was through a ford of the river, conversation for the time was interrupted; and, when the boys again came abreast, the conversation took another turn. What has been said, however, is sufficient to show the mission upon which the boys were bent.
By dint of hard riding the boys reached the Rio Grande before dark, and immediately crossed to the American side and hunted up Captain Peak.
“Well, well!” he exclaimed, as he caught sight of them. “I was afraid you had run into some kind of trouble, you were gone so long!”
“Some kind of trouble!” laughed Donald. “Several kinds of trouble would come nearer hitting it.”
“You don’t say so!” and the captain opened his eyes wide.
“Indeed we do,” said Billie.
“Then I’m even more glad to see you,” chuckled Captain Peak. “Suppose you come into the hotel and tell me about it.”
Giving their horses to the mozo, the boys accepted the captain’s invitation; but, after a few words, which indicated that the story was to be a long one, he insisted that its recital be postponed until they had eaten their supper. The suggestion was promptly seconded by Billie, who declared emphatically that the story could wait, but that the supper could not.
If it were not that Captain Peak might be kept waiting too long, it would be interesting to tell you what and how much Billie ate at that meal. He has since declared it was the greatest he ever ate—which is a most remarkable statement, and easily classes it as “some supper.”
But the longest meal eventually comes to an end, and then the boys sat down with Captain Peak and gave him a detailed account of their happenings from the time they left him a week before up to their return.
“I was sure I was making no mistake when I sent you out,” he declared, when the story was finished. “You evidently stumbled right into the very band I have been looking for. Of course I have heard something of the capture from across the river, the captain of the rurales having given out the information. Naturally he took all the credit, and no mention was made of you boys, which,” continued Captain Peak, after a minute’s reflection, “is a good thing, seeing that the adventure is only just begun.”
“Only just begun!” exclaimed Billie. “I was in hopes we were near the end.”
“So far as your part is concerned, that may be true; but it looks to me like the beginning of another serious revolution. Evidently this Don Rafael is acting for someone else—whom, I cannot tell, but I imagine for Felix Diaz—who naturally would like to take revenge upon Madero for driving his uncle, Porfirio Diaz, out of Mexico.
“If he expects any help from Villa, however, I am afraid he is going to be greatly mistaken. I know Villa well, and, peon though he is, he is a brainy man, and an ardent Maderist. I don’t believe they will ever get him to join a movement against the president.”
“That’s what Santiago says; but Don Rafael is a smooth talker, and he may make such promises that Villa will listen to him,” explained Adrian.
“Of course it is none of my business,” continued Captain Peak, “as long as they stay on their own side of the river; but the trouble is, they are always coming over here to do their plotting, and to get arms enough to start things going. That’s why I am glad of this information, and I shall do all I can to help the present government.”
“My interest in the matter is all on account of my promise to Santiago,” said Billie. “If we can find this Don Rafael, we shall at once notify the proper authorities, and I think the rurales will not lose him again.”
“I’ll do all I can,” said Captain Peak, “but I must act within my jurisdiction.”
“How can we find this Pancho Villa?” queried Adrian.
“Just go over to Presidio del Norte and ask the first peon you see,” was the captain’s reply. “They all know him.”
Billie sprang from his chair. “Come on!” he exclaimed, “let’s waste no time. We may find him in time to put him on his guard.”
“I wouldn’t go tonight, if I were you,” cautioned the captain.
“Why not?” asked Billie.
“Well, I don’t think it is hardly safe.”
“You don’t think we are afraid, do you?”
“It isn’t a question of fear. It is rather a question of a fight, and I know you don’t want to get into a fight.”
Billie scratched his head.
“I don’t know as I should exactly say we wanted to get into a fight; but we wouldn’t mind if something should happen that would give us a chance to take a fall out of our friend, Don Rafael.”
Captain Peak laughed.
“I see!” he said. “All you want is a chance, and you’re not so particular who furnishes it. But, take my advice, and don’t get into trouble tonight. Things are too unsettled, and I don’t want to be obliged to make a raid into Mexico to rescue you. I have even had to answer quite a few questions about the trouble we had the other day over by Don Pablo’s.”
“All right,” laughed Billie. “We won’t get into any trouble. We will just see this wonderful peon, and put a flea in his ear, and then we’ll come back.”
“Just as you say,” was the captain’s answer. “I’m sure you are able to take care of yourself.”
Bidding the captain good-night, the boys called for their horses and slowly rode across the river.
Presidio del Norte is not a large town, but as it is on the line of the Orient railroad—which at this particular time was in process of construction—it was quite a lively place for a Mexican pueblo. It is built around the inevitable plaza, the stores all facing thereon, and, when the stores and the little booths in the plaza are all lighted, becomes quite an attractive spot.
Drawing up at one of the booths, the boys accosted an intelligent-looking peon, and stated their errand. He looked at them a bit suspiciously, but finally agreed to help them find the object of their search.
“Follow me,” he said, and, turning away from the brightly lighted plaza, led them down a dark and narrow street. “Pancho is a poor man, señores, and does not live in a very nice place.”
“He didn’t need to tell us that,” laughed Adrian. “We still are able to see.”
“No,” said Donald to the guide, “you do not need to apologize. We understand that Pancho is an honest man, which is more to his credit than to live in a fine house.”
The Mexican led them about four or five squares and stopped before a miserable little adobe house.
“Aqui’sta!” he exclaimed, and knocked loudly on the half-open door.
“Quien es?” came a voice from within, meaning, “Who is it?”
“Americanos to see Pancho,” replied the guide.
“Bueno!” came the voice, and a moment later a large, fine-looking man appeared in the doorway.
“I am Pancho Villa,” he said pleasantly. “What can I do for you?” and this was the Broncho Rider Boys’ introduction to the man who afterward became the foremost general of Mexico.
“What can I do for you?” again asked Villa, as the boys did not at once reply, not knowing exactly what to say, nor how to say it in the presence of a third person.
“We have a message for you from a fellow patriot,” Adrian finally replied. “Perhaps it would be better if we entered your house.”
“My casa is a very humble one,” replied Villa, “but, if you will deign to honor it with your presence, you are quite welcome, señores.”
The boys alighted and threw their bridle-reins over a post at the side of the gate.
“Stay here and watch the gentlemen’s horses, Secundino,” said Villa to the guide, who was about to leave. “If you see anyone lurking about, call.”
“Bueno” was the reply and the guide threw himself down beside the horses.
The boys entered the house, followed by Villa. As their guide had said, it was a poor house, but it was comfortable and clean. Its only furniture consisted of a few chairs, a table, a bed, and some rugs on the floor. A single candle furnished the light.
“Now, señores,” said Villa, after they had all been seated, “we can talk without being interrupted. What is your message, and from whom?”
“Our message,” replied Adrian, who seemed to have made himself the spokesman, “is a warning. It is from one who calls himself only Santiago.”
“Santiago!” exclaimed Pancho. “Santiago! And how did he come to make strangers—Americans—the bearer of a message to Pancho Villa?”
“It is a long story,” replied Adrian, “but if you will listen we shall be glad to explain.”
“No story is too long, if it is the truth,” said Villa.
“Which this is,” declared Adrian earnestly, and for the second time that evening the events of the past few days were rehearsed.
“And you mean to tell me that Rafael Solis attempted to kidnap the son of General Sanchez?”
“That is exactly what he did,” declared Billie, who had scarcely been able to keep quiet while Adrian was talking. “And he would have succeeded, too, if we had not been there to help him escape.”
“But that isn’t the worst, to my way of thinking,” exclaimed Donald. “The worst thing was his assault upon Santiago!”
“He explained that to me by saying that Santiago was playing into the hands of the haciendados,” declared Villa, meaning by the “haciendados” the rich landowners, who for years have been grinding the peons under their heel.
“Explained to you!” exclaimed Billie. “Then you have seen him?”
“He left me not an hour ago.”
“It is none of our business,” said Donald, “but as we are interested in Santiago, we should be glad to know what he wanted.”
“Just what you might expect—to help him overthrow President Madero, who, he says, is just as bad as was Diaz.”
“Do you think he is?” asked Billie, who had become much interested in Mexican affairs during the past few days.
“Quien sabe!” was Villa’s non-committal reply. “We hope not, but Mexico has suffered much from those who should have been her friends.”
“Well, whatever President Madero may be,” said Adrian emphatically, “Don Rafael is a scoundrel and murderer at heart.”
For several minutes Villa made no reply, then with a shake of his head: “Time will tell!”
A few minutes later, when the boys were leaving the house, he said: “You may tell Santiago that he can depend upon me to do the right thing. I am working for Mexico—not for Pancho Villa.”
“We are sure you are,” was Adrian’s reply, and the others echoed his words.
Tossing a peso to the peon who had been guarding their horses, the boys mounted and slowly rode back the way they had come. They had almost reached the plaza when there was a pistol shot in their rear, followed by a cry of pain.
Without stopping to consider what their action might lead to, the boys with one accord wheeled about and dashed back down the street. The street was as deserted as when they passed up it a moment before. When they reached Villa’s house they drew rein and called loudly, but there was no response.
“That’s mighty strange,” said Donald, after they had called a couple of times with like result. “What do you suppose has happened?”
“Can’t imagine,” replied Billie. “Maybe he doesn’t hear us. I’ll knock.”
He dismounted and gave the door, which was still ajar, a vigorous thump, but no one replied. Then suddenly, while they were wondering what they had better do, there was a sound of voices at the head of the street, and a moment later a crowd of people, headed by several policemen, came hastily down to where they were standing.
“There they are! There they are!” cried out a voice. “They are the men who were with him!” And the speaker pointed at the three boys.
“What’s the matter?” asked Adrian, as the policemen stopped at his side.
“This man says you have been plotting with Pancho Villa to start a new revolution.”
“Nonsense!” exclaimed Adrian. “You know that Villa is a friend of President Madero.”
“Yes, everybody knows that,” said the other policeman.
“How about that?” the first policeman asked, turning to their accuser.
“That’s what I said,” declared the man. “I said they were trying to get Pancho to join a revolution against the president.”
The boys by this time had a chance to take a good look at the man, and recognized him as the one who had guided them to Villa’s house. Whereupon Donald exclaimed, with considerable warmth: “That’s a lie, and you know it.” Then to the policemen: “You don’t have to take our word; ask Pancho.”
“Of course,” replied the policeman, and he approached Villa’s door and knocked loudly.
But, as in the case of the boys, there was no reply.
“Where has he gone?” asked the policeman, turning to Adrian.
“I don’t know. He was here just a few minutes ago; but when we came back to see who was shot, he was gone.”
“What’s that?” asked the policeman. “Did you say somebody was shot?”
“We thought so. We were riding up the street when we heard a shot, followed by a cry. We came back to find out about it. That’s how we happen to be here now.”
“What did you find?”
“Nothing!” replied Adrian.
The policeman eyed the boys fiercely.
“Don’t try to make fools of us,” said one.
“No,” declared the other, “we are not to be played with by any young Gringoes. We don’t believe any such story.”
“I can’t help it whether you believe or not,” retorted Adrian angrily. “It is the truth!”
“We shall see,” declared the first policeman. “You come with us to the cuartel. The jeffe politico will have to look into this.”
“Now we are in for it,” said Billie, under his breath. “The next time I hear a Mexican shoot another I’ll ride the other way.”
“Where do you suppose Villa can have gone to?” asked Donald of the other two, as they rode along behind the policeman, followed by a shouting, hooting mob.
“Give it up,” replied Adrian. “It couldn’t have been he that was shot.”
“Who knows?” said Billie suddenly. “No one entered the house. He may be lying in there dead.”
“That’s so!” exclaimed Adrian, “I’ll suggest it to the policeman.”
“Not as you value your life,” interrupted Donald. “If by any chance they should find him dead, they’d accuse us of killing him.”
All this had been said in English, of which the policemen did not understand a word. In fact, had it been said in Spanish, it is doubtful if the policemen could have heard, on account of the hooting and the cries of “Down with the Americanos! Death to the Gringoes!”
“If they ever get us locked up,” said Donald, a moment later, “it’s going hard with us. We’ve simply got to get away!”
“All right!” replied Billie. “You lead the way.”
“Wait till the right moment and keep your eye on me. When I shout, both of you join in and we’ll try and stampede this herd.”
Slowly they rode along the narrow street and finally emerged on to the plaza. Here the street was much wider, and the crowd became less dense, although no smaller numerically.
As they passed one of the cantinas, a gang of half-drunken railroad laborers of various nationalities came out, singing and shouting. Among them were several Americans, seeing which Donald gave a wild yell, crying at the top of his voice:
“Hurrah for Uncle Sam!”
Billie and Adrian joined in the cry, at the same time putting spurs to their horses, which sprang forward, upsetting the policemen and creating a tumult which quickly became a riot, as the Americans in the crowd took up the cry and shouted lustily for Uncle Sam.
In the confusion which followed shots rang out from every side, most of them fired into the air, and there was a general scurrying to shelter by the natives, who had learned to get out of the way when a crowd of track hands and cowboys began to shoot up the town. Taking advantage of this, the boys dashed out of the light of the plaza, and were soon well on their way to the river; and it was none too soon, for, attracted by the commotion, a band of rurales was ordered out to arrest every foreigner found on the street.
“It was some excitement while it lasted,” remarked Billie, as they gained the American side. “I think I’ll stay out of Mexico for a while.”
“What!” exclaimed Donald, “with Don Rafael still at large?”
“Yes,” said Adrian, “how about your promise?”
“By George!” exclaimed Billie. “The excitement had driven it entirely out of my mind—and besides, I must learn what has become of Villa.”
It was late the next morning when the boys awoke and began calling to each other.
“What’s the first thing on the program?” asked Adrian, as he put the last touch upon his toilet.
“The first thing,” declared Billie emphatically, “is breakfast. I hope they have hot cakes and sorghum molasses.”
“Not a very fashionable dish,” laughed Donald.
“Hang the fashion,” replied Billie. “What I want is something that tastes good. How about you, Ad?”
“That’s me, too. But I think I prefer ham and eggs, sunny side up.”
“What are you fellows trying to do?” asked Donald, “increase my appetite?”
“No need of that,” laughed Billie. “I’ve never seen you when you couldn’t do justice to whatever is set before you; but hurry up.”
Five minutes later they were seated before a breakfast table that seemed to have been fixed for their special benefit, for not only did the bill of fare contain ham and eggs, but hot cakes and syrup as well.
For several minutes they were too busy to talk, but finally Donald pushed back his chair with the remark that so long as he could get a breakfast like that, he didn’t care how long he stayed on the border.
“Nor I either,” echoed Billie. “But what had we better do to get into touch with matters across the river?”
“I should certainly advise seeing Capt. Peak,” said Adrian.
“Of course; but what then?”
“Depends upon his answer.”
“Well,” said Billie, “I have a duty to perform and the sooner I set about it the better. Come on!”
He led the way out of the hotel and down to Capt. Peak’s headquarters. They found the captain mounting his horse.
“I was just coming to see what had become of you,” he said. “I didn’t know but you had left the country.”
“No reason why we should, is there?” laughed Donald.
“None at all; but I wouldn’t be found on the other side of the river too soon, if I were you. You must have stirred up a hornet’s nest last night.”
“I don’t know what you mean by a hornet’s nest,” replied Billie, “but we did have quite an exciting time.”
“Of course you found Villa,” said the captain.
“Found him and lost him,” replied Adrian, and he proceeded to narrate their adventure.
“And you have no idea who fired the shot?”
“Not the slightest.”
“I’m sure Villa was not the victim,” continued Capt. Peak, “or we should have heard of it by this time. They would have been over here looking for the murderer.”
“Which might have made a lot of trouble for us,” said Donald.
“Exactly! But if you boys want something to help pass away the time for a couple of hours, get your horses and we’ll ride down the river and see if we can hear anything.”
The boys gladly accepted the invitation and a few minutes later were riding leisurely along the bank of the Rio Grande on what the captain called a tour of inspection.
“Sort of scout duty,” laughed Adrian.
“Exactly; only we’re not likely to discover anything at this hour of the day.”
It seems, however, that it is the unexpected that happens, and they had not ridden more than two or three miles from town before they made a discovery which brought them to a sudden halt and caused the utmost astonishment.
Not twenty feet from the river bank, entirely free from any attempt at concealment, lay at least a dozen cases of rifles and a rapid-fire Maxim.
“Well!” exclaimed Capt. Peak, as he surveyed the arms from the back of his horse, “What do you think of that?”
“The thinking doesn’t seem to be up to us,” laughed Billie. “The question is, what do you think?”
For some minutes Capt. Peak made no reply, the while his eye noted the surroundings. Then he dismounted and examined the ground carefully, while the boys watched him with interest.
“I’ll tell you what I think,” he finally exclaimed, as he came slowly back to his horse. “There has been a pretty good-sized gun-running expedition—so large, in fact, that these few arms have been entirely overlooked.”
“They must have been pretty bold to attempt such a thing so near Presidio del Norte.”
“Yes,” replied Capt. Peak, “and the very boldness of it is what helped them to succeed. This is the last place I should have looked for a crossing. I must send out and get these guns.”
“Don’t you think they will be missed later?” asked Adrian.
“No doubt; but the owners will have discovered the loss too late.”
“I was just thinking it might be a good thing to leave them here unmolested and set a watch over them.”
“What good would that do? They will not make a second attempt at the same place.”
“It occurs to me,” said Adrian with becoming modesty, “that it would be a good thing to ride on just as though we had found nothing. As soon as we get around that piece of chaparral, let me come back and hide myself. I believe somebody will be around trying to locate the missing weapons. As I understand it, that rapid-fire gun is a valuable piece.”
“There is no doubt of that,” admitted the captain.
“If the one who comes hunting it finds it has not been molested, he will think it has not been discovered and he will take some steps to carry it away. When he does so, I can give the alarm and we can pounce down upon him.”
“Your idea isn’t at all unreasonable,” said the Captain, “and I’m perfectly willing to see what we can do.”
Accordingly the little cavalcade rode along for more than half a mile. It then halted in the edge of the chaparral, where Adrian dismounted and slowly made his way back through the mesquite bushes which covered the plain.
It was hot lying there in the broiling sun, but Adrian did not mind. This was his idea, and somehow he felt sure that it would meet with success; but for a long time it did not seem so. Finally, however, as Adrian began to think the Captain might better take charge of the arms, he noted a strange figure on the opposite bank of the Rio Grande. He was a little man, and, as nearly as Adrian could make out, old.
“He doesn’t look like a gun runner,” thought Adrian; “but you never can tell.”
At first the little man did not appear to be looking across the river at all; but as Adrian watched, he saw that the man on the other shore carried a pair of field glasses.
“That means that I must lie mighty low,” muttered Adrian to himself, and he hugged the ground tight, behind the mesquite bush.
The man at length leveled his glasses and peered long and earnestly—not only at the rapid-fire gun, which showed most prominently—but at all the bushes up and down the river for some distance.
“He certainly knows what he is looking after,” thought Adrian, “but I don’t believe he will come over in the day time.”
For the time being at any rate, Adrian was right; for after some minutes spent in observation, the man returned his glasses to their case and walked rapidly away.
Slowly Adrian withdrew from his position, backing out on hands and knees until he was hidden from the other bank. Then, rising, he hastened to where he had left his friends.
“Well,” was Billie’s greeting as soon as Adrian came in sight. “I hope you discovered something to pay us for going without our dinner.”
“If catching a gang of gun runners is enough, I think I did.”
“What’s that?” inquired Capt. Peak. “You think you have a line on them?”
“You can judge for yourself,” replied Adrian, and he related what he had seen.
“Don Pablo Ojeda!” exclaimed Capt. Peak as soon as Adrian had described the appearance of the man on the opposite shore. “If we can only catch him red-handed, it will be a great capture!”
“You don’t mean he’s the old chap who tried to steal our mule, do you?”
“He surely is,” declared Donald. “The description fits him perfectly.”
“And it’s very plain, now,” continued the captain, “why they selected this spot. It is only half a mile up stream from the trail that leads from Don Pablo’s to the river—just far enough for a boat to float down of its own accord. All it would take would be one man to steer. Once the guns were put on board, the others could ride down the river, swim their horses across and thus avoid any trouble in case the boat were discovered.”
“I’m glad if my information is of any use,” said Adrian.
“It unquestionably is. Now then,” and the captain mounted his horse, “to make arrangements to capture all who come to this side of the river.”
“Hadn’t we ought to notify the Mexican authorities?” queried Donald.
“If we were sure the information wouldn’t leak out,” was Capt. Peak’s reply; “but there is too much revolution in the air right now to know whom to trust.
“No,” after a pause, “we’ll play this game alone,” and turning his horse to the north, he started by a circuitous route for town, closely followed by the boys.
“I’m glad we’re this side the river,” said Billie as they rode along. “I seem to have more faith in the Rangers than in the Rurales.”
Midway between the Hacienda del Rio and the hacienda of Don Pablo Ojeda, near the source of the little mountain stream across which the Broncho Rider Boys chased the horse thieves in recovering old Bray, there stands an old mill. When built, or by whom, not even the oldest inhabitant of that region can remember. It is made of rock quarried out of the mountain side; and although the water wheel has long since gone to decay and the millstones have fallen into their beds, the walls of the building remain intact.
To be sure there is no roof on the building, but the heavy oak rafters, cut from trees on the mountain side, are reasonably strong, and, covered with a wealth of tropical foliage, form sufficient covering for one who is accustomed to the outdoor life of these regions.
Into this ancient structure, on the afternoon of the same day on which Capt. Peak and his young comrades discovered the rifles of the gun-runners, four men might have been seen to enter. Three of them were strangers. The fourth was the missing Don Rafael.
That they had no fear that they would be seen, was evidenced by the open manner in which the strangers dismounted from their horses and threw their bridle reins to their accompanying servants.
Of the three one had a decidedly military bearing while the others bore evidence of being well-to-do landowners.
“You surely have a veritable fortress here, Don Rafael,” declared the military man after a brief glance around. “With a little work in the way of outer trenches, it might be made well nigh impregnable to any but those armed with modern siege guns.”
“So I have thought, General,” replied Don Rafael deferentially.
“Where have you hidden the arms?”
“This way, General,” and Don Rafael led the way to the rear of the ruins and pointed out a strongly constructed door, which apparently opened into a vault. “They are well cared for.”
“How many have you?” asked one of the others.
“In the neighborhood of ten thousand small arms and ten machine guns. Another shipment was brought over the river last night and will be carted up here tonight.”
“Good!” exclaimed the general. “But now to the purpose of our visit. You asked us to meet you to hear the plans of General Orosco regarding the overthrow of the Madero government. What are they?”
“Sh-sh-h! Not so loud,” exclaimed Don Rafael, as he cast furtive glances out toward the servants and the horses. “Your mozos might overhear!”
“Small chance of that,” said the general, “and if they did they would want to join the movement.”
“Briefly,” said Don Rafael, “the plan is this: To start the movement in the northern states with the revolt of the Chihuahua garrison. General Orosco stands ready at a moment’s notice to come north and assume command; but you will have to start the movement in your state. I will start it here.”
“How about Villa? Will he join us?”
“I am sure he will; but if he will not, I will see that he does not interfere.”
“How many men can you muster?” asked the general.
“I shall have two thousand. I should have been able to do better, had it not been that my plans were interfered with by three young Gringoes who are touring this state on horseback! I ran into them at a most inopportune time, and as I did not wish to get into trouble with the United States authorities, I could not punish them as I otherwise would.”
“That’s bad,” said the general.
“Yes, it is; but if they come across my path again, I shall make short work of them.”
“Well,” said the general after a few more questions and answers, “I think we know enough. I shall expect to see you at Presidio del Norte in a few days. I trust you will succeed in your mission with Villa.”
Then, as he emerged from the old mill and once more stood and looked at the old structure: “This surely is a wonderful spot! We must see that it is properly fortified.”
The visitors approached their horses and were about to mount, when a peon on foot was seen approaching from downstream. That he was the bearer of a message of some sort was evident from his actions, and the horsemen remained unmounted, awaiting his coming.
“It’s one of the men who were with us on last night’s expedition,” explained Don Rafael as the man approached near enough to be recognized. “I wonder what he wants.”
They were not kept long in suspense, for the messenger, seeing that they were waiting, hastened his footsteps and soon reached them.
“What is it, hombre?” asked Don Rafael.
“A serious mistake was made last night.”
“How so?”
“A lot of rifles and a machine gun were left on the American side of the river.”
“What!” exclaimed Don Rafael “A machine gun?”
“Si, Señor!”
“What’s to be done?”
“That’s what Don Pablo wants to know. He told me to say that he has discovered that the guns are right where they were left and so far have not been seen. One of the men has been posted on this side of the river to watch that no one molests them. Don Pablo thinks if they are not discovered during the day, we can easily bring them over right after dark, so that they can come up here with the others!”
“I don’t see anything else to do,” said Don Rafael.
“Then you will send the men to help?” asked the man.
“Is that what Don Pablo wants?”
“Si, Señor!”
“Very well. Tell him I will have a dozen men on hand as soon as it is dark. I may come myself to see that he makes no more blunders.”
“That’s the only safe way,” said the general.
The messenger made no reply, but with a muttered “Hasta lluego,”3 took his departure as fast as he had come and the three strangers soon followed his example.
Left alone, Don Rafael watched them as they slowly wound their way down the mountain path, and when they finally passed from view, turned and entered the mill. Quickly he ascended the dilapidated stone stairs to the second story, where, in a small room partitioned off from the rest of the mill, he had made him a habitation, and threw himself upon his crude bed.
“Pancho Villa!” he exclaimed with a mocking laugh. “Pancho Villa, indeed! It will be a long time before anyone sees Pancho Villa!”