Feeling assured that the trap was well baited with the forgotten guns, Capt. Peak determined to omit no detail which would insure the complete capture of the gun-runners when the trap was sprung.
He accordingly mustered his men early in the afternoon, and, accompanied by the boys, who were most anxious to take a hand in the capture, openly left town in exactly the opposite direction from the place where the guns had been discovered. By this plan he hoped to allay any suspicion which might be aroused and communicated to the smugglers by their spies, with whom he had no doubt the city was filled.
Riding up stream for several miles, until the city was entirely lost sight of, the Rangers made a wide detour back into the country, arriving in the vicinity of the trap just as the sun had set.
As soon as it was sufficiently dark for the men to come out into the open without being seen from the Mexican shore, they were so disposed that they could surround the gun-runners on three sides, while a fourth detachment was posted up stream, but sufficiently near the bank of the river to cut off a retreat in that direction.
“It would please me greatly,” said Capt. Peak, in giving the last instruction, “if we could also capture the boat in which the guns are to be carried over the river. Not only would it be good evidence, but it would help to prevent similar expeditions in the immediate future.”
This remark offered a suggestion to Donald, and when the others had been stationed, he announced his plan to Capt. Peak.
“I’m sure,” he said, “that we three boys can capture that boat better than anyone else, because we are all good swimmers.”
“What has that to do with it?” asked the Captain. “The boat will have to come to shore to get the guns.”
“I know that,” replied Donald; “but suppose they even succeeded in getting the guns down to the river bank, what good would it do if they found the boat gone?”
“I see,” laughed the Captain. “Well, go ahead; but we shall not wait for the Greasers to get the guns down to the shore before we nab them.”
Having obtained permission to act, Donald at once called Adrian and Billie and unfolded to them his plan. It was very simple, namely, to secrete themselves on the shore, or even in the water if necessary. Then, as soon as the boat had landed the men, to swim up behind it and draw it back into the river.
“Suppose they make it fast to the bank,” suggested Adrian.
“I had thought of that,” replied Donald, “and that is why I think it better to hide on shore.”
“How would it do for one of us to remain on shore,” suggested Billie, “and the others to station themselves out in the river where the water is breast high? Then, if they fastened the boat to the shore, the one on land could, in the dark, easily slip up and cut the ropes.”
“Not a bad idea,” replied Donald. “Suppose you stay on shore and Ad and I will do the water act.”
“Yes,” said Adrian, “and if you are discovered you can easily pass yourself off as a Mexican. If you are questioned all you have to say is 'quien sabe’ and stick to it, and they’ll know you are a peon.”
“Suits me,” declared Billie, and he drew his hunting knife from his belt. “One stroke of this will cut any ordinary rope.”
This plan having been decided upon, Donald and Adrian threw off their superfluous clothing and waded out into the stream, while Billie secreted himself behind a little pile of brush, left on the shore by the last high water.
They had hardly taken their positions, when the faint sound of oars came to their ears and a couple of minutes later a good-sized batteau came into sight through the darkness. It was rowed by six men while a half dozen more were seated at the bow and in the stern.
The batteau had no sooner touched the shore than those in the bow sprang out and pulled the boat partially onto the gravelly beach. The others followed more slowly, but after a minute or more all were landed. Not a word was spoken for some minutes, and several of the men spread themselves out into a scouting party. One of them passed so close to the place where Billie was concealed that he could have touched him with his hand; but it never seemed to occur to the Mexicans that anyone might be hidden on the beach.
Those who were not on the lookout, pushed the boat back into the water and turned it so they could pull out immediately it had received its load. Then for the first time a spoken order was given in a low voice—a voice which sounded strangely familiar to Billie, although he could not think where he had heard it.
“All ready!” it said, “and hurry up! Juan and I will be sufficient to guard the boat!”
“So ho!” exclaimed Billie to himself! “It appears we are to have two to deal with,” and as he saw the figures steal away in the darkness he slipped silently nearer to the boat to see how the guard was placed.
A glance was sufficient to show him that one man sat in the boat with oars in his hands, while the speaker stood on the shore. He had not yet decided what to do, when he noticed that the boat was silently and slowly drawing away from land. The shore guard must have noticed it at the same time, for he said in a sharp whisper to the oarsman:
“You’re drifting out! Hold your boat to the shore!”
The oarsman gave a couple of strokes with his oars, but without any apparent result! The boat continued to draw away.
“The current must be very swift!” he muttered.
“Or else you are very weak,” declared the man on shore, and he leaned over to grasp the boat, which was still within reach.
This was Billie’s opportunity and he was quick to seize it. He had realized from the beginning that it was not the current, but Adrian and Donald who were pulling the boat into the stream, and so, as the man on shore leaned over to grasp the boat, Billie sprang forward and gave him a violent shove, which landed him face down in the bottom of the batteau, and sent the craft well out into the stream.
Then, without a moment’s hesitation, Billie sprang in after him, calling out to the other two boys to scramble aboard without delay.
Almost before the words were out of his mouth, there was a crack of rifles and the shouts of the Rangers mingled with the cries of the gun-runners, who had been caught in the trap.
But quick as Billie had been, the man whom he had pushed into the boat was quicker. He was on his feet in an instant and grappling with the lad, while at the sound of the shots he called to the oarsman:
“Pull for the other shore! Pull for your life!”
Although Billie was large and strong for his age he was no match for his assailant, who was not only possessed of much strength, but was as agile as a cat. Almost in less time than it takes to tell it, he had thrown the boy to the bottom of the boat. Quickly he picked up an oar, as though to deal him a blow, when his attention was diverted by the severe rocking of the boat.
Turning to see the cause, he espied Donald and Adrian piling in over the gunwale.
Raising aloft the oar which he had intended for Billie, he aimed a vicious blow at the head nearest him, but as the blow was about to descend, Billie caught him by one leg and he dropped the oar to save himself from falling into the water.
By this time the oarsman had discovered the condition of affairs and had come to his companion’s rescue. Rising in his place he struck with his oar the boy nearest him. It happened to be Donald, and the oar came down on his shoulder with a sounding whack. It was only by the greatest good luck that it did not hit him on the head. As it was it caused him to utter a cry of pain and release his hold on the boat.
It was a critical moment.
Adrian had just succeeded in pulling himself into the boat, but had not yet gained his footing; Donald was apparently helpless in the water, and Billie was struggling with the leader of the gun-runners, while the oarsman, with oar in hand, seemed to command the situation.
But before the man with the oar could gather himself for another blow Adrian, from his crouching position, sprang upon him. His head struck the Mexican squarely in the pit of the stomach, and with a loud “Ah!” as the wind was knocked out of him he toppled over into the water. The next instant Adrian reached over and seized Donald by the hair and pulled him up to the boat, where he was able to grasp the gunwale with his uninjured arm.
The blow which struck Donald, and his cry, had a most unfortunate result upon Billie. For just a moment he was undecided whether to throw his antagonist into the river, or to release his hold and help Donald. In that moment his opponent saw his opportunity and took advantage of it.
With his doubled knee he struck Billie in the face and as the lad fell over into the boat, he plunged into the river and struck out for the Mexican shore.
“Don’t let him get away,” cried Billie, as soon as he could gather himself to speak. “It’s the leader of the gang!”
“All right,” said Adrian. “Help me pull Donald in and we’ll row after him.”
In almost no time Donald was helped into the boat and Billie and Adrian seized the oars and started in pursuit of the fleeing Mexican. They were not expert oarsmen, but they did their best and the boat made good headway. But row as hard as they could, they were unable to discover a trace of the fugitive, and it soon became evident that he had escaped in the darkness. Neither did they see anything of the man whom Adrian had knocked overboard.
“We haven’t made a very creditable record,” declared Adrian as they finally ceased rowing and tried to make out where they were. “I hope Capt. Peak did better.”
Considerably crestfallen, the boys turned the boat and rowed for the American shore, where they shortly arrived.
“Well,” said Capt. Peak as they beached the batteau and sprang ashore, “I see you have the boat. Did you get anything else?”
“Nothing but a sore shoulder,” replied Donald ruefully.
“It’s all my fault,” declared Billie. “I ought to have shot the leader instead of trying to capture him.”
“The leader!” exclaimed Capt. Peak. “Was it the leader you were fighting with?”
“Sure!” was Billie’s emphatic reply. “And he’s a good one, too!”
“You ought to know,” laughed the Captain. “It was your old friend, Don Rafael.”
“What!” cried Billie, as he regarded Capt. Peak with a look of blank despair. “Don Rafael! You don’t mean it!”
“That’s what the men say, and I have no doubt they know.”
“And to think that I had my hands on him and didn’t recognize him!” said Billie, almost in tears with disappointment. “That’s twice I’ve let him escape. I’ll bet I don’t do it a third time!”
Despite the escape of Don Rafael, the expedition had been a great success. All the other gun-runners, with the possible exception of the one whom Adrian knocked into the river, had either been captured or shot, the arms had been secured for evidence, and the boat, which had been so well used, had been captured.
“It’s all very well for the Rangers,” said Billie to Donald as they were climbing into bed that night, “but it hasn’t helped me a bit. I am no nearer keeping my promise to Santiago than I was yesterday morning. In fact, I am further away, for Don Rafael will be more cautious than ever.”
“Well, I wouldn’t worry about it,” replied Donald good-naturedly. “Go to bed and sleep over it. You may dream it out. Because we’ve done our best today is no sign we cannot do better tomorrow. We profit by experience, my father says. Our very failures make us try that much harder.”
“That’s a fact,” declared Adrian. “I’ve proved that myself.”
“It doesn’t seem as though I could try much harder,” said Billie, with a vigorous shake of his head; “but as Donald says, the best thing to do now is to sleep over it,” and he tumbled into bed and was soon sleeping as soundly as though he had not just been through an ordeal which would have been a memorable one even for one much more experienced than Broncho Billie.
The events of the morrow proved that sleeping over the matter was the very best thing that could have been done, because it was the last real good night’s sleep the boys had for some time. While they were eating their breakfast the next morning, Capt. Peak came in and told them that a revolution against President Madero had already broken out and that General Felix Diaz was attacking Vera Cruz.
“So you see,” he added, “our predictions were pretty nearly correct.”
“What effect will it have upon your work?” asked Donald.
“I expect it will increase it greatly. We shall have to be more active than ever to prevent gun-runners, smugglers—for gun-running is nothing less than smuggling—from getting arms across the border.”
“You seem to have done about all you can since we have known you,” laughed Adrian. “I don’t see how you can do much more.”
“Well, in the first place,” explained Capt. Peak, “I expect we shall be attached to some regiment of regular army cavalry, or at least we shall be under the direct orders of some United States officer, instead of working as state troops as we do in times of quiet. This will undoubtedly be the first step. After that, we can only guess as to what duty may be assigned us.”
The Captain’s prediction proved quite correct and before night it was announced that Captain Peak’s company had been assigned to duty with the regulars under command of Col. Bliss.
During the day many rumors were afloat as to happenings across the river, but it was not until that night that the revolution developed in Presidio del Norte. Then firing was heard, and from the American side it could be seen that a skirmish of some sort was in progress.
It was while these events were shaping themselves that the Broncho Rider Boys held a council of war over their own future.
“We ought to be in El Paso now,” said Donald, in reviewing the situation. “We are already past due and Billie’s father will be greatly worried at our non-appearance; but I don’t know how we can help it.”
“Can’t we telegraph him?” asked Billie.
“There is nothing but a military line from here to Langtry,” replied Donald.
“Well, I’m sure Capt. Peak can get a message through for us,” insisted Billie. “I feel more like staying here now than ever. I am sure I shall be able to get a line on Don Rafael, and if I can’t capture him I may be able to help some one else do so.”
“I feel a good deal like Billie,” declared Adrian, “and I vote to notify Billie’s father, if possible, and stay right here for a few days longer anyway.”
“Two is a majority,” said Donald, “so let’s go and see what we can do.”
They found Capt. Peak in conversation with a member of Col. Bliss’ staff and made known their wants.
“These are the young men of whom I have just been speaking,” said Capt. Peak to the officer. “Boys, I want to introduce you to Lieut. Grant of the regular army!”
The boys acknowledged the introduction.
“And so you want to get a message to El Paso,” said the Lieutenant.
“If we can,” replied Billie. “I am afraid my father will be getting worried.”
“Of course you know the line is for purely military purposes?”
“Yes sir,” was Billie’s prompt reply, “and this message is a military necessity.”
“Yes?” queried the Lieutenant. “How so?”
“Because it has to be sent to prevent Capt. Peak from losing our services.”
Both the Lieutenant and Capt. Peak laughed heartily at Billie’s witty reply, while the Lieutenant said forcibly:
“And that he cannot afford to do right now. We have already counted upon your assistance in a little scouting expedition.”
“Then the message can be sent?”
“Undoubtedly. Also, we will undertake to get you a reply.”
“That is most kind of you,” said Billie, “and for my part I am ready to volunteer for duty this minute.”
“How about your companions?” asked the Lieutenant.
“We are like Dumas’s three guardsmen,” said Adrian. “'One for all and all for one.’”
“Then we’ll consider the matter settled,” said the Lieutenant. “Report here at seven o’clock this evening for instructions.”
“Well,” remarked Donald as the trio rode away, “I never expected to become a military scout.”
“Nor I,” declared Billie, “but neither did I ever expect to be christened Broncho Billie. I’ll sure have some tales to tell when I get back east.”
“Yes,” laughed Adrian. “First thing you know you’ll become a regular Buffalo Bill, and be running a Wild West show!”
“I shouldn’t be at all surprised. In these days of rapid-fire methods, why not a circus?” asked Billie.
And the other two replied: “Why not?”
When the boys reported for duty to Lieut. Grant at seven o’clock they found that conditions across the river had developed rapidly. The revolutionists had taken possession of Presidio del Norte and the skirmish referred to in the last chapter was in full swing.
“I hadn’t expected such rapid developments,” said the Lieutenant after a word of greeting. “This breaking out of open hostilities has made the mission upon which I wish to send you much more dangerous than I had thought. If, under the circumstances, you do not feel like undertaking it, I will detail someone else.”
“Has the telegram gone to my father?” asked Billie.
“Yes.”
“Then I feel bound to perform the duty you desire.”
“You need not,” said the Lieutenant.
“Whether I need, or not, I do. When I’m paid for doing a job I expect to do it. Of course,” he added, “we’d do whatever you want us to anyway; but the telegram is personal with me.”
“I admire your spirit,” said the Lieutenant earnestly, “and I am now more than ever convinced that you are the very ones to perform the service.”
The Lieutenant opened a drawer in his desk and took therefrom a large map, which he spread out upon a table. It was drawn so as to show, not only the boundaries of the different counties and districts, the watercourses and highways, but was also shaded so as to show the topography of the country on both sides the Rio Grande.
“Now look,” he said to the boys, placing the point of his pencil on the map, “and listen carefully. Here is where you found the guns the other day. Here is the beach where you captured the boat. Back here, half a mile, you strike the trail leading to the little town of Alamito. There you come upon the line which has been surveyed by the Orient road and which strikes the Southern Pacific at Alpine. The reason why this spot has been selected for gun-running is that arms can be unloaded at Alpine and brought down here over these trails. Do you understand?”
The boys nodded their heads.
“Perfectly,” they exclaimed.
“Col. Bliss has been informed that a decoy expedition is to be started from Alamito within a day or two, possibly tomorrow night, for the purpose of drawing our soldiers into a conflict with a band of Mexican revolutionists, in the hope that we will follow them across the river into Mexican territory. This would create an international dispute, which the revolutionists hope would cause the United States to take a hand in the Mexican troubles.
“The information desired, is to know, not the exact time of the proposed decoy expedition, for the conspirators will see that this information comes to us, but the exact size of the force, the route to be followed and the names of the men who are planning the expedition. The latter is the most important. Once their identity is known, it will be easy to do the rest, even to stopping the expedition before it starts.”
“Have you any suggestion as to how to go about this?” asked Donald.
“Yes; that is one of the things I was going to explain. My idea is for you to join the expedition.”
“Will they take us?” queried Adrian.
“It is for you to see that they do.”
“We don’t look like Mexicans,” ventured Billie.
“The conspirators are not all Mexicans,” said the Lieutenant. “In fact, it is thought that the whole thing is planned by Americans who own property in Mexico and want this government to intervene. Cowboys are the very chaps needed, and you can fill all the requirements. I should say the best place to join the expedition is in Presidio del Norte. If you can cross the river while the fighting is going on you stand a good chance of meeting the very men you are looking for.”
“It’s about the biggest job we ever tackled,” said Donald aside to Adrian.
“Oh, I don’t know,” replied Adrian. “That bunch of smugglers was no small proposition.”
“You are not afraid to undertake it, are you?” asked the Lieutenant.
“Afraid!” exclaimed Billie. “Why, Lieutenant, we’re scared half to death most of the time; but that doesn’t keep us from going ahead and doing whatever needs to be done. The only real fear in this matter is that we may not be smart enough to work the thing out.”
“Then I know of no one who is,” laughed the Lieutenant.
“We’ll do our best,” said Donald.
“I am sure of that,” declared Lieut. Grant, “so now off with you! Do not delay your report a minute longer than necessary. Everything depends upon having information in advance.”
The Lieutenant turned again to his desk and filled out a blank.
“Here is a pass through the patrol,” he said as he handed Donald the paper. “Also an order to allow you to use the barge you captured. A couple of my men will row you over and bring the barge back. You can swim your horses behind. Once on the other side, you will have to look out for yourselves.”
Leaving the Lieutenant, the boys mounted their horses and rode rapidly out of town to the spot where the boat lay. A short distance from the shore they were stopped by the patrol and presented the pass. The corporal of the guard was called, to whom they also gave the order for the use of the batteau and men to row them over. Both the pass and the order were promptly honored and in less than half an hour after leaving the Lieutenant they were on the Mexican shore.
While the spot upon which they landed was some distance from the firing line between the Federal troops and the revolutionists, they soon found that they were in the direct line of fire and quickly proceeded to change their position.
“I don’t mind taking some chances in a fight for Uncle Sam,” said Adrian, “but I object to being made a mark for a lot of greasers, who are fighting among themselves.”
“Right,” assented Billie, “but it looks as though this were Uncle Sam’s service, so we’ll have to take some chances. Suppose we get to the top of that knoll and see if there is still enough light to determine what is happening.”
For want of better advice the boys accepted Billie’s suggestion, and rode toward the little rise of ground. When they had approached the top, they dismounted, threw their bridle reins over a mesquite bush and cautiously made their way to the summit on foot.
While it was after sunset, it was well that the boys took this precaution. As they lifted their heads above the brow of the little hill they discovered, a short distance away, a force of Federals so posted as to command the knoll, evidently fearing that it might conceal some of the attacking revolutionists.
Quickly the boys dropped out of sight, and remounting their horses rode rapidly farther up stream. Then, using the little ridge as a screen, they made their way around to where they could approach the Federal line from the left.
Having then determined their position by a hasty reconnoiter, they advanced openly as though ignorant of all the trouble.
Their presence was quickly discovered and a detachment of cavalry charged down upon them, whereupon Donald waved his white handkerchief as a flag of truce, and the three halted until the horsemen came up.
“Quien viva?” shouted the leader as he came within hailing distance, which, being translated, means, “Who lives?” and is the common challenge either on the field or in camp.
“Mexico!” replied Donald, acting as spokesman.
“Que gente?” demanded the officer, meaning literally, “What people?” although the challenge is used very much as our soldiers call, “Who goes there?”
“Friends!” replied Donald. “We are Americans and wish to go to Presidio del Norte.”
“Impossible!” declared the officer, who bore the rank of lieutenant. “No one can pass the lines.”
“Will you take us to the commanding officer?” was Donald’s next question.
“Without doubt,” replied the officer with a broad smile. “We are bound to do that, whether you wish or not.”
“Suits us,” was the reply; and at the word of command the little detachment started for headquarters, wherever that might be, the cavalrymen keeping the boys well surrounded.
It was a short ride, the commanding officer having made his headquarters in an adobe hut just behind a knoll similar to the one on the side of the valley where the boys had obtained their first view of the battle. They were quickly ushered into his presence and their joy and surprise may well be imagined when they recognized, in one of his aides, the captain of the rurales who had captured the smugglers at the cave.
The recognition was mutual and an exclamation of surprise burst from the lips of the captain.
“Caramba!” he exclaimed. “Where do you come from?”
The boys looked at each other in some confusion, not knowing just what to say. But once more Billie was equal to the occasion and he replied with his most innocent smile, “We were captured!”
“So I see,” laughed the captain. “But what were you doing?”
“We wanted to see the battle,” replied Billie. “We never had seen one and we wanted to know what it was like.”
The captain smiled grimly and was about to say something more, when the general demanded sternly:
“Who are these boys, Captain?”
“They are the boys who aided in capturing Don Rafael’s gang,” was the prompt reply.
“What! The boys who rescued my son from that cutthroat!”
“The same, General!”
If the boys had been surprised at recognizing the captain, they were much more surprised at what followed.
Springing from his chair, the general seized first one boy by the hands and then another and wound up by throwing his arms about all three, much to their discomfort as well as their embarrassment.
“My brave lads!” he exclaimed. “How can I ever thank you for what you did for my son? He has told me all about you! I can never repay you.”
“We’re not looking for any payment,” stammered Adrian. “All we want is to get into Presidio del Norte.”
General Sanchez drew back and regarded them in surprise.
“Presidio del Norte!” he exclaimed. “What can you possibly want there?”
For a moment the boys made no reply, but eyed each other in a questioning manner. Each knew what the other was thinking, but neither was sure just what to say. At last Billie spoke.
“Tell him, Donald,” he said. “It’s the very best thing to do.”
“Right!” was Donald’s reply. Then to the general: “Can we have five minutes with you in private?”
“Five!” exclaimed General Sanchez. “Ten times five if you wish!”
“Five will be plenty,” said Donald.
The general issued an order and the room was quickly cleared.
“Now, then,” said he, “you may talk to me like I was your own father! That is the way I feel toward you.”
Fifteen minutes later, just as the last rays of daylight were fading away, three horsemen were seen to dash out of the Federal lines and head straight for the intrenchments which the revolutionists had hastily thrown up around Presidio del Norte.
A minute later a band of at least a dozen cavalrymen followed in hot pursuit.
But that one minute had been sufficient to give the three horsemen enough of a lead to make it a stern chase, which everyone knows is a long chase; and although the cavalry were plainly well mounted, the three horsemen gradually ran away from them.
When this became evident, the pursuers opened fire upon the trio, but their shots failed to reach their mark. In a couple of minutes more, the cavalrymen were obliged to draw rein to prevent them from coming within range of the revolutionists’ rifles, while the fleeing horsemen rode directly into the trenches and later into the town.
The three horsemen were the Broncho Rider Boys and the chase was a ruse determined upon by the boys and General Sanchez when they told him their mission, for of course General Sanchez was as anxious to thwart the revolutionist plot as was Lieut. Grant.
So well was the ruse carried out, however, that it completely deceived the revolutionists; and as the boys came inside the revolutionary lines, they were cheered loudly.
They approached the first officer they met and asked the way to the commander of the city. He was not only glad to direct them, but even offered to accompany them—an offer which they were glad to accept.
“That was a narrow escape,” he said as they rode along.
“It was that,” replied Donald; “but it was either escape or be stood up before a firing squad, and we took the chance. If that’s the way the Madero government treats people, it’s no wonder you all revolted.”
“That’s right,” declared Billie. “I’d like to have a chance to take a shot at them.”
“You shall have it,” declared the officer. “I will tell the general and he will be glad to enlist you.”
“Bueno!” replied Billie, although joining the revolutionists was a thing he had not before considered. A gun-running expedition didn’t seem so bad; but to be put out on the firing line was a good deal too much like war.
They soon reached the barracks, and for the second time that evening the boys were ushered into the presence of a commanding general.
Without giving them a chance to speak, the officer who had conducted them thither introduced them by saying:
“General, here are three Americans who have just broken through the enemy’s line and want to join our army.”
“Is it possible?” queried the general, a dapper little man, who looked about as much like the boys’ idea of a revolutionist as a horse looks like a goat.
The officer assured him that it was more than possible; that it was a fact.
“They must be smart young men to escape General Sanchez,” was the general’s next remark.
“They are,” declared the officer, who seemed to be considerably nettled at the general’s manner. It was a daring ride, he had seen it and he wanted the credit of bringing in three such valuable recruits. “I’d be glad to have them in my battalion,” he added.
“Asi!” said the general as he slowly nodded his head. He was clearly suspicious and still the revolution was so new and the need of men so great that he couldn’t afford to be too particular. “So you would like them in your company, Don Carlos?”
“Cierto!” was the officer’s emphatic reply.
“Very well; take them along. But remember, you have sharp work ahead, and want only men on whom you can depend. These American cowboys are a hard lot, especially when they are drinking.”
“I know men when I see them,” replied Don Carlos, with an air of self-importance. “I wasn’t born yesterday.”
“Bueno!” and the general waved his hand. “Take them away. I’m busy now; but come back in an hour and I’ll give you your instructions.”
“Come,” commanded the officer called Don Carlos, and the boys followed him from the room, not having spoken a word.
“I hope we’re going to see some active service,” said Adrian to Donald in an undertone, which was intended for the ears of the officer, although it was supposed not to be.
“I’ll bet we will,” replied Donald in the same manner. “The major here is all right.”
Don Carlos squared his shoulders and threw out his chest, the remark having greatly pleased his vanity. And right here it may be said that Don Carlos was as brave and dashing a revolutionist as there was in the army, his only weakness being his egotism. Because of this his judgment was bad, and courage without wisdom is quite apt to get one into trouble.
“Well,” muttered Billie, who had quickly caught on to the game, “I’d like to know where I’m going before I join any company. The major may be all right, but unless he gets a chance, what can he do?”
“We’ll have plenty of chance,” interrupted the major.
“Yes, I know,” grumbled Billie, “to stand in a trench and shoot at nothing. What I want is something with a dash!”
“We’ll have that, too,” declared Don Carlos. “What would you say to a raid across the river and a fight with the patrol?”
“Fine! That’s the kind of a job for me!”
“How about your comrades?”
“We’re with you!” exclaimed both Adrian and Donald in one breath. “Anything for excitement!”
“You’re young men after my own heart!” declared Don Carlos, who was a right young man himself.
“Where are we going now?” asked Billie, seeing that they were riding back toward the firing line.
“My men are mostly in the trenches,” replied Don Carlos, “but the dozen or more I have selected for this raid are in a little cantina just around the corner.”
He gave his horse the spur and a moment later pulled up at the most inviting of the numerous cantinas which encircled the plaza.
“Here we are!” he exclaimed, as he leaped from his horse. “Come in and I’ll introduce you to the rest of the troop.”
As the boys alighted they recognized the place as the one that had played such a conspicuous part in their recent visit to Villa, but they felt sure that no one would recognize them; and even if anyone did, the revolution had completely changed conditions since that time. The only fear they had was that they would not be able to play the part they had assumed.
“Take your time,” was Donald’s advice, “and keep your wits about you.”
“You don’t suppose they’ll want us to drink, do you?” asked Billie.
“I hardly think so,” answered Donald. “My observation is that the average Mexican is not a drinker of anything stronger than agua frescas”—meaning by this, drinks like limeade, piña and other soft drinks.
“Oh, well,” laughed Billie, “I could stand a good lemonade right now. Let’s hurry up!”
Donald’s prediction was quite right, and when the boys entered they found a number of the troop just about to indulge in a grosella, a very palatable beverage made from currants and tasting much like the now famous grape juice. A couple of tough-looking Americans were the only ones who were drinking anything intoxicating.
“These are our new recruits,” cried Don Carlos, so that all could hear. “Here’s their health!”
“Salud!” meaning, “your health,” was the boisterous response, and in a very few minutes the boys found themselves on terms of soldierly good fellowship with the whole band, not excepting the Americans, who were the most boisterous of all.
“I don’t like these fellows’ looks at all,” declared Adrian to Billie, the first time he got a chance to speak to him privately. “They look like a couple of outlaws.”
“I expect they are,” laughed Billie. “Perhaps they take us for the same.”
“By George, I believe they do!” was Adrian’s answer. “Now what do you think of that?”
“What do I think of what?” queried Donald, who had heard the remark.
Adrian repeated the conversation.
“Well,” declared Donald, “I don’t know but we are, in the eyes of anyone who don’t know the facts.”
“What!” exclaimed Billie. “Haven’t I a right to fight for the revolutionists if I want to?”
“Sure you have; but if you are caught at it, your own government would not interfere in your behalf. If you expect the United States to protect you, you must be neutral in other peoples’ battles!”
“Of course,” explained Adrian, “our present position is not that.”
“Oh, no!” replied Donald. “We are on a mission for our own government.”
Their conversation was interrupted by the major, who, calling all the men aside, explained to them briefly that they were to go on a dangerous mission across the river into the United States.
“If it succeeds,” he said, “it will not only insure the success of our cause, but will mean a goodly sum of money to each one of us.”
“How is that?” asked one of the Mexicans.
“Because the work we have to do is in the interest of a large railroad syndicate, which is most anxious to have the United States intervene in the troubles in Mexico!”
“We want no intervention by the United States,” declared several of the men fiercely. “Rather Francisco Madero than the American pigs!”
“You don’t understand,” explained one of the Americans, to whom our boys had taken such a dislike. “The Americans only want to be guaranteed——”
“We know,” replied one Mexican. “We are willing to fight, but not for the Americans.”
“Bueno!” exclaimed several.
For a few minutes it looked as though there might be a small revolution among the revolutionists, but Don Carlos was equal to the occasion and announced that no one had to go who did not want to.
“Neither will they get any of the money,” he added. “Now then, all who do not wish to go may return to the trenches.”
No one made a move, although there was considerable muttering.
“Now that this matter is settled,” said Don Carlos, “I will go and get my final instructions. I’ll be back soon.”
“We seem to be getting pretty close to the facts,” said Donald as Don Carlos left. “If we can only get some names we shall have all the information we need.”
“We shall get those after we get a little better acquainted,” said Adrian, and he proceeded to make friends with the members of the band as best he could.
Perceiving that this was the proper thing to do, Donald and Billie also began to get better acquainted and were making good progress when Don Carlos returned, accompanied by two companions, which brought the number up to twenty.
“Attention!” he called as soon as he entered the cantina.
The order was obeyed, although not in a very soldierly manner.
“The expedition is to leave for the American side in twos and threes,” he explained, “and we are to meet at Alamita at eight o’clock tomorrow night. If any are captured, they are to allow themselves to be imprisoned without protest. No matter what happens, keep your orders secret. You understand?”
“Bueno!” was the unanimous reply.
“Then go!” ordered Don Carlos, and he stepped aside to allow the men to pass out.
“Stop!” exclaimed a voice from the rear of the cantina. “One thing you have forgotten!”
The boys, along with the others, turned at the sound of the voice and there in a rear door stood Don Rafael.
“Great Scott!” exclaimed Billie. “This is no place for me!” and he made a bolt for the door, followed by Adrian and Donald.
“Stop them,” cried Don Rafael, who recognized them at the same instant they recognized him. “They are spies!”
At the cry of spies all was confusion, and the revolutionists, with loud imprecations, sprang forward to seize the accused.
But quick as were the Mexicans, the Broncho Rider Boys were quicker! Evading the outstretched hands which would hold them, the boys dashed for the door, striking right and left at all who came within reach.
“Look out for the knives and use your fists,” cried Donald, as he planted a well directed blow on the point of Don Carlos’ chin, which laid that enthusiastic revolutionist low.
Billie and Adrian followed suit, and the two nearest them went down under their attack.
Another bound and they had reached the door.
“Shoot them,” cried Don Rafael. “They are friends of Gen. Sanchez!”
He drew his revolver and would have fired, had not the man nearest him knocked his revolver from his hand.
“You’ll hit our own men,” he said. “Who are you anyway?”
“I’ll show you who I am,” replied Don Rafael, beside himself with rage. “Take that!” and he aimed a blow at the man, which not only knocked the man down, but caused Don Rafael to nurse his fist with pain.
And now the boys are in the street and the whole band is after them, shouting and firing their revolvers indiscriminately.
Ordinarily such an affair would have created great excitement, but with firing in progress all about the city, it only attracted a few old men and boys, who joined in the pursuit.
“Get off the plaza,” cried Adrian. “Get into the dark!”
“Can’t we get our horses?” gasped Billie.
“No!” replied Donald as they ran. “Never mind the horses! Look for some place where we can hide.”
They darted down the first street which seemed to offer a refuge, with the whole band in hot pursuit.
“They’re gaining on us,” said Billie. “Let’s turn another corner!”
This they did and still another, but were unable to shake off their pursuers, who seemed to increase in numbers.
“In here!” at last cried Donald, as he noticed the door of a house standing partly open. “In here and shut the door!”
Suiting the action to the word, he darted in. The others followed, slamming the door behind them.
It was not a moment too soon, for the next instant the crowd came around the corner and passed down the street, thinking the boys still ahead.
It was pitch dark in the room into which they had stumbled, but Donald produced his electric light and they took a hasty survey of their surroundings.
“Here’s a candle,” he said. “We’d better light it and save our electricity.”
This they did, and as the dim light gave them a better view of the entire place they were all struck with its familiar appearance.
“It seems to me as though I had been in here before some time,” said Billie.
“Me too,” declared Adrian, and he looked about more carefully.
“I’ve got it!” exclaimed Billie. “It’s Villa’s house!”
“By George, you’re right,” said Adrian. “I wonder where he is?”
“It don’t look as though anyone had been here since we were,” said Billie.
“Maybe there hasn’t,” replied Donald. “This surely is a queer mess we have fallen into.”
The noise of a great commotion in the street and the sound of pounding on doors came to them through the grated window.
“The mob is returning!” said Adrian.
“What do you suppose the pounding is?” queried Billie.
“I should say they were breaking into the houses along the street,” said Donald.
“That is just what they are doing,” asserted Adrian. “Looking for us, no doubt.”
“We’d better barricade the door,” exclaimed Donald, and he grabbed the bed and pushed it against the door, while Billie pushed up the table.
“Not much to barricade with,” remarked Adrian and he piled up the chairs.
The work had hardly been completed when there was a knocking on the door.
The boys made no response.
“Open!” cried a voice, “in the name of the law, open the door!”
Still the boys made no reply; but they made ready to use their weapons if necessity demanded.
Then came blows upon the door, evidently from an ax, and in a moment the lock was shattered.
“It’s time to give them warning,” said Donald. “Fire through the first opening they make.”
The very next blow made the opening desired and three shots rang out. They were followed by screams from the street and the hammering ceased.
“They’ve found out that there is some one here, anyway,” said Billie. “I wonder what they’ll do next?”
A volley from without was his answer, but the shots were all high and no damage was done. The boys did not wait for a second volley, but jumped around to each side of the door, out of range.
Evidently believing that the shots had taken effect, the besiegers renewed their attack; but at the first blow the boys reached around and delivered their fire.
There was no answering shout to tell that the shots had taken effect, but the hammering ceased and a second later there was another volley.
“They are simply wasting their ammunition,” said Donald. “As long as we stay away from in front of the door they cannot possibly hit us.”
“They might batter the house down though,” said Adrian. “I wonder if there isn’t some way of escaping by the rear.”
“Suppose you go and look,” said Donald.
“I’ll go,” exclaimed Billie. “My experience in the smugglers’ cave has made me expert.” He dropped down on the floor and made his way on all fours to the back of the room.
There seemed to be but one entrance to the room and that was from the street. The entrance into the patio, which might have been expected, being lacking.
“I wonder why that is,” thought Billie. “All the Mexican houses I have ever seen opened into a patio.”
The patio is the little court around which Mexican houses are almost invariably built.
“Give me your electric light,” he at length said to Donald. “I am sure there must be an opening somewhere.”
Donald did as requested and Billie on all fours went carefully round the room, looking for a possible door.
“Here’s the place,” he finally exclaimed, “but the door has been walled up.” Then a moment later: “Hello, what’s this? A trap door.”
Quickly he brushed away the sand with which the floor had been covered, as is the Mexican custom, and the outlines of a door were plainly visible; but there seemed no way of raising it. Several times he passed his hand over the door, if perchance he could find a knob or a secret bolt, but in vain!
“I’ll have to pry it open with my hunting knife,” he finally exclaimed and began digging away with all his might.
“Are you sure it’s a door?” asked Donald, crawling over to where Billie was at work.
“Sure! Can’t you see?”
“It surely is,” said Donald. “Here, let me hold the light, while you get a good purchase with the knife.”
Billie handed over the electric light and gave the knife a vicious dig into the crack between the door and the surrounding floor. At the same time the besiegers struck the street door a terrific blow with the end of a steel rail which had been brought up from the railroad camp.
Just exactly what happened, Billie was at first unable to realize. All he knew was that the trap door, upon which he was leaning with one hand, had given way beneath him, and he was falling head first down a flight of stairs.
Picking himself up as soon as he struck bottom, which was not more than six feet, he started to ascend the stairs, but at the second step his head came into contact with the floor.
The trap door had flown back into its place.
“Ouch!” exclaimed Billie, as his head came into contact with the door. “I wonder what——” and then he stopped and listened.
Overhead he could hear the sound of stamping feet and the sound of shots. After a couple of minutes there was silence, which was more ominous than the sound of fighting.
For a moment Billie’s heart fairly stopped beating with fear for what might have happened to his companions. Had they been killed or simply overpowered? What was he to do?
Even while these thoughts flashed through his mind the silence was broken by voices, and above all the others he could hear that of Don Rafael, which he had now come to recognize.
“Bring them out into the light where I can get a good look at them,” he ordered. “The gringo curs! We’ll have a nice little shooting party at daylight that will make them an example for others who want to spy upon Mexican patriots!”
“Patriots!” thought Billie. “If they are patriots, I’m sorry for Mexico.”
“Where is the other one?” he heard Don Rafael ask a minute later.
“These are the only two,” was the reply.
“Where is your comrade?” he heard Don Rafael ask, and Billie’s heart gave a great leap for joy as Donald’s voice replied:
“Don’t you wish you knew?”
“Answer,” commanded Don Rafael.
To which Billie heard Adrian say: “You’ll find out soon enough where he is!”
“Caramba!” almost shouted Don Rafael. “If you don’t answer at once I’ll shoot you now instead of waiting till daylight.”
“Do,” replied Adrian, “and it will make it just that much worse for you!”
Evidently Don Rafael must have been somewhat impressed by what Adrian said, for he did not shoot. Instead he commanded to bring more lights and search the place.
But there was nothing to be seen but the empty room, the scuffle having obliterated all signs of the trap door.
“Whose house is this?” Don Rafael at length asked.
“Pancho Villa’s,” replied one of the men.
“Villa’s!” cried Don Rafael. “Villa’s! May the saints protect us! Let us go at once!”
A minute later Billie heard the retreating footsteps overhead and a couple of minutes later all was again still.
“I wonder what there is about Villa to scare Don Rafael in that way,” he thought. “The last I knew, he was trying to get Villa to join the revolution.”
It was too big a problem for Billie, and so instead of bothering about it he began to figure how he was going to get out.
“If the door could open to let me in,” he said aloud to himself, “it can open to let me out.”
“You are right!” replied a voice in Spanish from somewhere out of the darkness.
To say that Billie was not startled by the voice would be rather a strong statement, for brave as he was, such a happening tended to send several creepy chills up his back. He had retained his hold upon his knife as he fell, and his clasp upon it tightened considerably as he asked with all the courage he could command:
“Who are you and how do you know?”
“I know because I fixed it to open. I will leave you to guess who I am.”
In an instant it flashed into Billie’s mind who it was that was speaking to him, and he replied with a good deal more assurance:
“There is but one person who could have made and used it! You are Pancho Villa.”
“Bueno!” was the reply.
“Well then,” asked Billie, “will you kindly show me how to get out?”
“Yes, if you will tell no one I am here.”
“It’s a bargain,” said Billie.
A moment later there was a sound of a match being lighted and the cellar was illumined by a faint gleam of light, which grew larger as the light was applied to the wick of a candle. By this light Billie saw he was in a cellar the same size as the room above and that his companion was lying on a bed in one corner of the cellar.
“What’s the matter?” asked Billie. “Are you sick?”
“I have been wounded,” was the reply.
“When?”
“The night you boys visited me.”
“By whom?”
“I am not sure, but I think it was Don Rafael Solis.”
“That must have been the shot we heard as we were leaving that night!”
“Yes!”
“How are you now?”
“I was going to leave here tomorrow. I am afraid there is going to be an uprising against President Madero very soon.”
“What!” asked Billie. “Didn’t you know it had already broken out? Why, they are fighting all around here right now.”
Villa sprang to his feet, entirely forgetful of the wound in his side.
“Do you mean to tell me,” he said, “that a revolution has already begun?”
“Exactly!”
“Who started it?”
“Gen. Felix Diaz, they say. Up here, the garrison has joined the revolution. Gen. Sanchez was on his way to take command when the revolution broke out. He failed to reach here in time. He is now attacking the city with a thousand infantry and five hundred cavalry.”
“Who is in command of the revolutionists?”
“I do not know for sure; but one of the chief actors is called Don Carlos, while Don Rafael seems to have a lot to say.”
For several minutes Villa stood silent, turning the matter over in his mind and seemingly undecided as to the course he should pursue. Then he suddenly straightened himself and looked Billie squarely in the eye.
“The revolution is wrong,” he said. “President Madero is the friend of the peon. I shall stick to him no matter what happens. Come, it is time I was acting.”
He took a step up the stairs and by the light of the candle drew back a bolt and opened the trap door. Then he stood aside for Billie to pass.
Arriving in the room above they stopped and surveyed the wreck. The rail, with which the door had been battered in, was where it had fallen and confusion reigned.
“Where are you going?” asked Billie after a moment.
“To join Gen. Sanchez. Why?”
“Because something has got to be done between now and daylight to save my companions!”
“Bueno!” exclaimed Villa. “They shall be saved!”
“How?”
“I will explain later! No friend of Santiago shall suffer for trying to do me a kindness. And, besides,” he added after a moment, “I owe Don Rafael one for this.”
He placed his hand on his wound and a look of fierce determination passed over his face.
“How did it happen?” asked Billie, no longer able to restrain his curiosity.
“He tried to assassinate me and would have succeeded had I not had the trap door to hide me. I think my sudden disappearance must have frightened him. That is why he was frightened again tonight when he found he was in my home. He must think that the place is guarded by an evil spirit.”
“It seems more like a good spirit to me,” declared Billie, “but let us hasten to Gen. Sanchez! I cannot rest easy till my companions have been rescued.”