CHAPTER III.THE TREACHEROUS RANCHERO.
“You are my guest, senor,” declared the ranchero. “I shall bewitch you with my wine. There is not better in the Laredo vineyards.”
“Indeed, I am in your debt very deeply, senor,” replied Frank, “but pardon me, but is not that good water in yonder spring?”
“It is; but first the wine.“
“Very well; yet will you allow us to take some of it aboard the Steam Man?”
“Si, senor, with pleasure,” replied the polite ranchero; “take all that you would care to of it.”
Frank turned and motioned to Barney and Pomp.
They took the hint at once and moved the Man up to the spring.
In a few moments they had the hose out and were pumping the water with all haste into the Steam Man’s boilers.
Frank with this followed the ranchero into the adobe building.
In the interior it was scarcely more inviting than outside, but the hospitable ranchero offered Frank a seat.
The young inventor accepted it.
It was a small chair near a window, through which Frank could easily see what was going on in the yard.
“Pardon, senor!” said the ranchero, affably, “but may we not exchange names? I am Don Juan de Casnova.”
“And I am Frank Reade, Jr.”
Frank was sure that the other gave a queer start and changed color a bit. But if so he was quickly recovered.
For smilingly he said:
“Senor Reade, I shall drink to your health.”
Then from a closet near the ranchero produced a quaint old flagon and some silver drinking mugs.
Into this he poured some of the richest wine that Frank had ever seen.
“This is better than pulque, senor,” declared Don Casnova with a smile. “Drink to success.”
“Amen!” said Frank.
He took a draught of the wine. It was rich and gratifying to his taste.
He drained the glass.
“Another, senor,” insisted Casnova.
Frank could not refuse. The wine warmed him and made him feel invigorating.
De Casnova seated himself opposite Frank and opened a conversation.
“Pardon my curiosity, senor,” he said, politely, “but it is a natural question to ask the mission of one traveling across the country as you are. Is it a secret?”
Frank hesitated a moment.
His better sense told him the danger of making a confidant in this wild region.
Acting on impulse, he replied:
“I am out here in quest of a gold claim, near Los Pueblos.”
“Caramba!” exclaimed the ranchero, with a start. “Is it a rich one?”
“It is so reported.”
“I have heard of gold about Los Pueblos, but I have heretofore regarded it as a myth.”
“It has been established a certain fact, I believe.”
“Indeed! I should like to see that claim.”
Frank was silent a moment.
There was a question uppermost in his mind which he desired strongly to ask the other.
But he was in doubt as to the safety of doing it.
Finally, after the conversation had turned upon different topics, he ventured to say:
“Pardon me, senor, but is there in these parts a man named Miguel Costello?”
The ranchero gave a start.
An odd, startled light came into his eyes. But he evinced trepidation only a moment.
“Si, senor,” he replied; “I have heard of him.”
“What sort of a man is he?”
It was a direct question, but Frank believed it the best under the circumstances. The ranchero idly pulled at his cheroot, and gazing at Frank languidly through half-shut eyes, replied:
“Well, senor, I think it not good taste to speak disparagingly of a man’s character. Yet Miguel is so well known that it cannot hurt to tell the truth that he is a bad man.”
“Indeed!”
“In fact, he is an outlaw, and if he had his just deserts would be hung for many a dark crime.”
“Ah!” said Frank, quietly; “perhaps then you can tell me of the unfortunate American, Harvey Montaine, who it is said has fallen into his clutches?”
The ranchero smiled in a peculiar way as he replied slowly:
“Yes, I can tell you all about this affair, for I know Harvey Montaine.”
“Indeed!” exclaimed Frank, unguardedly, “then he is a friend of yours?”
“Well, perhaps so. You know him yourself, I take it?”
“Yes,” replied Frank, “he is a man of honor and of courage. Then the report is true that he was robbed of his claim by Costello?”
“I believe that he and Costello had an argument about a claim,”replied Casnova, quietly; “to which it properly belonged I am not able to say.”
“It belonged to Montaine,” said Frank, decidedly.
“Ah, you know that then, do you?” asked the ranchero, quickly.
Frank’s face flushed. He had spoken too quickly.
“I know that Montaine claimed to own a rich gold claim hereabouts,” he declared, positively. “I have no reason to doubt his words.”
“By no means, senor,” replied Casnova, politely, “but you neglect the wine.”
“I thank you,” replied Frank. “I can drink no more.”
“Allow me to insist, senor. It is a very fine quality.”
“As fine as I ever tasted,” declared Frank; “but I will not drink again.”
De Casnova sat the mug down quietly. There was a queer gleam in his dark eyes as he said:
“Perhaps, senor, I can help you to rescue this Montaine from the villain, Costello. In fact, I have no doubt that I can.”
“I have not intimated such to be my purpose,” said Frank, steadily.
“Ah!” exclaimed the Mexican, lifting his eyebrows. “I see you will not trust me. But rest assured, Senor Reade, that Juan de Casnova is an honorable man.”
“I know nothing to the contrary,” replied Frank.
He was studying a way out of the difficulty.
He felt in some vague way that he was in a complicated position and wished to extricate himself.
He saw through the windows that Pomp and Barney had filled the Steam Man’s boilers and were getting up steam.
Frank at that moment heartily wished himself aboard the Steam Man.
For some reason he felt a strong distrust of Casnova. He realized that he had committed an error in speaking of Montaine or of the Mexican bandit.
Frank knew enough of Mexicans to be aware of the fact that they were exceedingly treacherous and hung together famously.
For aught he knew Casnova was hand in glove with the bandit, and feeling that this was possible Frank’s sensations can well be imagined.
He wished himself far from the spot at that moment.
Indeed, he had already begun to count the chances of reaching the Steam Man alive in case he should make a break.
Casnova’s eyes were upon him intently all the while.
The villain seemed to read his purpose like a printed book.
“You will stop some days with us, Senor Reade,” said the ranchero, smoothly. “You will find that a Mexican knows something of the art of entertaining.”
“I am well aware of that now,” replied Frank. “I will consult with my companions, and if they-—-”
But Casnova made a gesture of impatience.
“Senor need not do that,” he exclaimed; “they are but peons. The senor is assuredly his own master.”
“Yes,” replied Frank, truthfully. “Yet I always confer with my two servitors. I will give you an answer.”
Frank arose, but Casnova did the same and seemed loath to let his guest depart.
“Ah, too much haste,” he declared, in his oily way. “Senor Reade, you know not the ways of these parts.”
“I shall learn, perhaps,” said Frank, dryly, taking a stride toward the door.
But before he could cross it the ranchero had seized a small whistle from his girdle and blew it.
Several sharp notes upon it he blew.
In the flash of a second Frank realized his peril. He made action in that same brief bit of time.
Quick as lightning he cleared the threshold and started across the yard for the Steam Man.
“Stop him!” yelled Casnova, in the Mexican tongue.
In the same moment six of the greasers sprang toward Frank.
The young inventor saw his peril and knew that he must act quickly.
He drew his revolver and cried:
“Stand back, every one of you! I’ll kill the first man in my path.”
But the greasers were upon him and the pistol was knocked from his grasp.
Only one thing favored Frank at that moment.
The greasers were all light men, and they had not reached Frank until he was within ten yards of the Steam Man.
Barney and Pomp in the cage saw the situation at a glance.
They realized the deadly peril and were quick to make action.
Barney seized a club and rushed from the cage.
It was but a couple of leaps he needed to take to bring him to Frank’s side.
The young inventor himself had knocked over two of the greasers with his fists.
Barney now with his improvised shillelagh descended upon the Mexicans like a thunderbolt.
They were utterly unable to stand up before such an attack.
Right and left the Celt dealt blows.
“Take that, an’ that, ye murtherin’ crew!” yelled Barney, excitedly; “bejabers, if it’s a ruction yez want, here’s one fer yez.”
The greasers went down before the Irishman’s blows like logs.
There were others coming to their assistance. But before they could come up the struggle was over.
Barney and Frank had sprung into the cage. There they were safe from bullets.
And these now began to fly.
Casnova furiously rushed out into the ranch yard, urging his men on. A swarm of the greasers came for the Steam Man.
But Frank was not anxious to meet them in close combat.
He opened the throttle and let the Steam Man out.
Out of the ranch yard the Man sped, but the greasers all sprang upon their horses and gave pursuit.
Out upon the plain went the Steam Man, pursued by the yelling horde of greasers.
For half a mile the race was nip and tuck.
Ordinarily the Man would have distanced them, but there was but little steam up, and progress was slow.
As it was, the greasers gained a trifle, and one of them sent his lasso coiling like a serpent through the air.
It settled down over the Steam Man’s head and shoulders.