"Do you not think, Senor Darlington, that it is now safe to start?" inquired the Spaniard, who was fearful of bloodshed, not quite understanding the boys.
"Certainly," responded Jim, "we will get Don Fernando down from his perch and proceed."
This proved to be an easier task than getting him up. His master lowered by the rope to his side, one scrambling leap and the horse was on the firm wet sand of the beach, almost knocking his master over in his eagerness to be on safe footing again. Don Sebastian now showed the gay side of his nature, as he vaulted into the saddle.
He swung his hat wildly, the blood mounting to his face, and the horse seemed to feel the sting and excitement of his master's mood, as he pranced, danced and caracoled upon the sand and ended up by bowing in unison with his master to the two American lads, who were looking on with interest and amusement.
Then the party made their way quickly along thecurve of the beach and went around the fateful headland with perfect safety, while quite a distance out among the hidden rocks snarled the defeated ocean. Then Caliente heard them coming and he quickly raised his head, neighing in welcome to Jim and his comrade, Don Fernando.
Jim gave him a vigorous hug for more than ever he was fond of his faithful horse. In a few minutes he had him saddled and away the three horsemen thudded in a swift gallop down the beach. The horses fairly flew, the wind of their speed tossing their manes back. It was cool beneath the fog laden sky and the refreshing sea air seemed to give the horses tireless endurance.
Soon three miles had spun backwards under their hoofs and the boys were filled with the joyous excitement of the run. It seemed now that every stride of the horses was bringing them nearer to the hoped-for rescue of Tom and Juarez. And this was an incentive to their energy.
"Here, friends, is where we branch off from the beach," cried the Spaniard.
Then he turned his horse to the left and headed straight for a wooded spur that extended from the range to the shore. In a short time the three came to a well-traveled trail and were soon riding throughthe semi-dusk of the woods. For two miles they went up a steady grade.
Then they rounded the summit of the wooded ridge and saw stretching far below them in the indistinct dusk, a wide plain bounded on the West by the blue darkness of the level sea with its rim of yellow sand.
"We will soon be at the home of my friend, Senor Valdez," said the Spaniard, "where we will spend the night."
"I'm a lovely looking object to present itself in a civilized home," protested Jim, "I look like a tough who has been in a bar-room rush."
"You are my brave friend," said Senor Sebastian, quietly, "and will be welcome."
Jim blushed, at least one side of his face did, the other was already too deeply colored to show any emotion, and he grinned sheepishly. Before he had time to reply they swept into an open driveway, carefully sanded, and drew rein in front of a long, low white adobe house, that from its mountain terrace looked over Plain and Sea.
Out came Senor Valdez to receive them, a stately Spaniard, who furnished the boys with an ideal of perfect courtesy ever after. To the end of their days they remembered their first visit to the home of Senor Valdez. How they did enjoy their dinnerthat evening in the long, pleasantly lighted dining-room.
It was an excellent meal, with delicious soup, a salad garnished with peppers of the Spanish style, and garlic. Jim and Jo had never tasted anything equal to it. Besides there were frijoles and lamb, while the dessert was some slight and delicate confection of jelly and cream, made by the hands of the Senora Valdez.
"I feel wicked sitting here and eating this fine meal," said Jo, addressing Jim in a low voice, "when Tom and Juarez are being ill used and probably starved."
"Well," replied Jim, who was always practical, "I think it is better to eat, and to keep my strength up."
"I guess it won't fail," commented Jo slyly.
The boys bore themselves well, and without any diffidence though Jim had a whimsical recollection of his bruised side face and blackened eye, and he tried to keep it turned from the Senora Valdez, the fragile little woman who sat at the end of the table opposite her husband. She had snow white hair, parted low over her ears and the pallid face was lined with years. Very gentle was the Senora Valdez, but she had in her time beheld scenes of carnage and terror, so Jim need not have worried about his bruised face. But the wise old lady noticed his solicitude and understanding, was the more gracious to the young Americano because of it.
That evening they sat on the piazza, that looked out towards the sea, the Spaniards smoking and Jim and Jo enjoying the music of a guitar played by a Mexican in a dim corner of the verandah and the boys heard a bit of important news.
"There was a mysterious ship put into shore several miles South of here, late last night, Senor," said their host, "one of my shepherds brought me word."
"The first scent of the trail," cried Jim eagerly. Then the Senor Sebastian explained to his friend more fully the objects of their search. Immediately the listener was deeply interested. Then he sent for an Indian, one of his trusted men, to come to him, and gave him minute instructions about some matters. Without a word the Indian turned and disappeared in the darkness, and in a short time there came the sound of a horse galloping full speed down the road.
"Tomorrow, Senor Darlington, this Indian will meet you at a point near the Puebla de los Angeles,which my friend knows and he will have all the information there is obtainable as to the location of this ship and its crew," thus spoke the Senor Valdez. Jim thanked him with deep fervor for his unusual kindness, but the Spaniard made light of it.
As they sat there in the dusk of the verandah, Jim would have liked to ask his host to relate some of his experiences in southern California for he felt sure that the Senor Valdez had known something of adventure not only because those early days were full of marvels of interest, but there was something in the bearing of the old Spaniard that spoke of former days of romance and of stirring incidents.
Then, too, there was something in the after-dinner content and quiet, following the perilous adventure which they had been through that predisposed the boys to listen to a good story of adventure. Their friend, the Senor Sebastian, seemed to divine what was passing through Jim's mind, for he suddenly spoke, breaking the meditative spell that had fallen upon the group on the piazza.
"It just occurred to me, Senor Valdez, that our friends here might like to hear something of the early days in this part of the country, for you ofall men know it thoroughly and I am sure it would interest them."
"Indeed, it would, Senor," cried Jim enthusiastically, "it was in my mind to ask Senor Valdez to tell us of the early days but I was afraid to impose upon him."
"I feel greatly honored to think that you young men would care to hear anything my poor tongue could relate. It would hardly be worth your distinguished attention." Jim made due allowance for the courteous exaggeration characteristic of the Spaniard.
"Try us, Senor," he said briefly, "we would want nothing better."
"I will have the coffee brought first," replied the Senor, "that may serve to stimulate my dull imagination."
In a short time a softly moving servant brought out a tray of coffee cups, and placed one before each guest on a small wicker table. Jim noticed these cups with immediate interest. They were certainly beautiful and he had never seen anything like them before. They were of a wonderful blue, each one, and had a coat of arms in gold with raised figures on it; a scroll above with a Latin motto, and beneath the representation of a wild animal couchant. The Senor Valdez wasquick to see Jim's interest and respond to it. "That is the coat of arms of my family," he explained.
"I am not a scholar, Senor," said Jim, "and all I can make of the motto is that it has something to do with a lion."
"You are quite right," the ghost of a smile hovered around the white-fringed lips of the Spaniard, at Jim's innate boyishness.
"That figure does not look exactly like a lion," remarked Jo frankly.
"Not like an African lion certainly," replied the Spaniard, "but a lion nevertheless, such as one finds yet in the mountain fastnesses of Spain, something like a panther only larger and much more fierce."
"The lion seems to have a rope or chain around his neck," commented Jim, "and fastened to a collar."
"Quite so," responded the Spaniard, "likewise the motto translated reads, 'Gentle as a Lion.'"
"Rather strange way of putting it," said Jim curiously.
"I will explain, for you would naturally be puzzled by the phrase, 'Gentle as a Lion,' as it seems to contradict common knowledge," said Senor Valdez. "You see my family has the distinction, if such it can be called, in these moderndays, the distinction of being old. This coat-of-arms dates back to the eleventh century."
Jo was about to give a prolonged whistle of surprise when Jim gripped his knee to enforce silence, for though Jo might mean all right, the Spaniard might not understand.
"The founder of the family who flourished at that time was a rather rugged character, and I am afraid would regard the family representatives of this day as very puny and unworthy specimens. This Rodriquez de Valdez had his castle in a rugged mountainous part of Spain, where there were plenty of wild animals and of wilder and fiercer men, bandits and free-booters without number.
"His castle was a very powerful one, not only in construction but likewise in location, as it was built on a shelf of rock above a deep chasm, with precipitous cliffs behind it. However, Rodriquez de Valdez spent but very little time behind the protection of its powerful walls. It would take the forces of some strong Duke from the lowland to cause him to seek the shelter of his castle and to raise his war banner of crimson with a blue cross upon it, above the turret.
"He spent his days hunting among the mountains for wild beasts or for marauding bands oflawless men. Rodriquez was a man of wonderful strength, even for those days, when there were giants in the land. In stature six feet five and powerful in proportion and likewise very fleet of foot. If I should tell you of some of the legends of his strength and swiftness, you would probably laugh.
"But the one that has to do with the coat-of-arms of my family I will tell you. It chanced one day that he was out in the wilds of the mountains and quite alone. Intent upon the trail of a deer that he was following along a shelving mountain side, he did not see a lion half grown, but nevertheless very dangerous, which was crouching on the branch of a tree ready to spring upon him when he got beneath it.
"When he had passed by under the tree a pace or two, the lion sprang with distended claws. Some instinct of danger made Rodriquez turn and he was just in time to grapple with the brute, clutching it by the throat. The lion had some advantage in weight but not a great deal, for my brave ancestor was probably three hundred pounds of sinew, bone and muscle. So that the struggle was not such an unequal one, but it was terrific while it did last. Finally, though torn and bleeding, the man subdued the beast, and had it in abject fear of him.
"Then instead of killing the lion as one would naturally expect, Rodriquez took a strange humorous notion into his head. He would make a pet of this same lion and it should be his dog to follow obediently at its master's heels wherever he went. This idea he carried out and he even had a heavy brass collar placed upon its neck, and it followed him on all his trips, slouching with padded tread at his heel, or behind his war horse as he rode abroad, like a powerful yellow dog.
"I do not imagine that the beast ever had any great amount of affection for his master, but he no doubt was in great fear of him, which seemed to answer the purpose quite as well. So, my friends, you have a full and complete explanation of the coat-of-arms of my family. My only fear is that I have wearied you with what could not have the same interest for you as it does for me."
"Indeed, you have not wearied us, Senor," exclaimed Jo enthusiastically.
"That is one of the most interesting accounts that I have ever listened to," said Jim. "I only wish I could have lived in those days when there was plenty of adventure."
"I do not think that you have any reason to complain," remarked the Spaniard laughingly. "Perhaps your descendants in future years will be pointing out your daring deeds as emblazoned on their coat-of-arms."
"No danger of that, I guess," laughed Jim, "though they might have a picture of Jo and me tied to a mule. That was the way old Captain Broom treated us." The Spaniard joined in the merriment at this unheroic representation of Jo and Jim.
"Now, Senor Valdez, you have told us a tale of old Spain, tell us something of new Spain here in California," urged Jo.
"It seems to me that it is now someone else's turn," said the Senor. "I would not do all the talking. A host should sometimes listen. Perhaps Senor Darlington will tell us of some of his experiences. They will be much more stirring than any musty tales of mine." But Jim shook his head firmly, not to say obstinately.
"I would not think of telling our adventures," he replied. "Perhaps after we have travelled more, we will have something worth while relating."
"That's right," said Jo, "we would much rather listen to you, Senor."
The Senor Valdez sipped slowly at his coffee, looking out into the semi-darkness beyond the verandah, where over the plain below stretched the gray blanket of the fog-clouds. Then he rolled another cigarette, lit it and took a few meditative puffs. The Senor now began his next story at a peculiar angle, and did not commence with the stereotyped form of "once upon a time," so dear to the days of one's childhood.
"I see you do not take cream in your coffee," he said addressing Jim.
"No, but I like some sugar, not too much."
"It has seemed to me," said the Spaniard, "that the seasoning of coffee is in a way an indication of character."
"Where the party uses milk in his coffee that indicates weakness, does it not, Senor?" inquired Jim with a sly look at Jo, but the subtle Spaniard was not to be trapped.
"Not necessarily," he replied, "only mildness."
"And when it is taken straight and black that means a strong character," remarked Jo.
"You have stated it," replied the Spaniard.
"But I would like to know how I would be sized up?" questioned Jim, "you see I use a little sugar."
"My friend," said the Spaniard with playful earnestness, putting his hand lightly on Jim's knee, "that shows a character of great strength, tempered with mercy and human kindness. All ofwhich leads one to speak of a man who was once famous in this part of the country, but not popular. He always had the reputation for taking a strong liquor in his coffee, Fernet, if I remember right. His name was Alverado, but I judge that you are not acquainted with it."
"No," replied Jim, "but I should say that he was a very fierce character."
"He was. He was a bandit."
"I thought so," agreed Jim.
"This Don Alverado came from a well known Spanish family, of ancient lineage, but impoverished fortune. He was such a wild and unruly blade that his family were decidedly relieved when he left Spain and came to the new world to mend his fortune, if not his ways. He landed first in Mexico, and after a series of more or less remarkable adventures, he came to this part of California. I knew him, or rather I knew of his family in Spain, and for their sake I made him welcome here at my home.
"He was really a charming fellow in manner and appearance, tall, slight, with dark eyes and hair, a typical cavalier. But the graces of his manner did not reach down to his heart, and after a disagreeable episode which I need not revive here, he left my rancho never to return except as an enemy.I heard nothing further of him after his departure for some six months. My next introduction to him was an unpleasant one.
"It consisted in the loss of a band of horses and a herd of cattle which were driven off by a gang of raiders, thirteen in number, at the head of which was this fellow Alverado. His depredations went on for years among the ranchmen in this part of California. So resourceful and crafty was this desperado that he evaded trap after trap laid for his capture.
"He had several very close calls and there were numerous battles between the outlaws and the ranch owners, but though some of his men were shot, he seemed to bear a charmed life. I remember one running fight over the plain yonder, when, believing me to be absent from home, as I had been, but returned unexpectedly from the north, this Alverado and his gang made a bold dash to capture some horses from a field directly below the house.
"It did not take long to get my men together and I gave the bandits a surprise indeed. Nothing but the speed of Alverado's horse, a splendid black stallion, saved him from capture. We got several of his men however. At last there came the turning of the lane. Through the treachery of one of the band we found that their rendezvous wasat the head of a small canyon in a range of foot-hills several miles south of here.
"You will go through it tomorrow on your way south, if you carry out your speed schedule, which with your remarkable horses you ought to be able to. We came upon the gang about noon, where they were resting after a long chase. In a corral near by were a number of stolen stock. They were not expecting trouble of any kind. Some were playing cards, a few cooking, most, however, were enjoying the siesta, their leader among the number lay under the shadow of a tree, his head resting on a saddle, sound asleep.
"There were fifty of us, and we had them surrounded, so that there was no chance of escape. Alverado himself made a desperate dash, but the cordon was too strong. The rest surrendered. That afternoon we took the bunch to the lower end of the canyon, where there was a giant sycamore tree. There we hanged the whole thirteen, and by them no more were troubled not even by their ghosts."
Jim and Jo expressed their appreciation of their host's kindness in entertaining them as he truly had done in relating his tales. Then they said good night and went to their room.
That night the boys slept in a comfortable bed ina quaint old bedroom with roses nodding in at the half open casement windows. By the light of the candles they could see the strange old and carved furniture and tired as they were how they did sleep.
The next morning they started hours before daylight. "I will be prepared to welcome more of you in a few days," said the Senor Valdez, and the boys thanked him heartily. Promising to return soon they galloped away through the darkness.
All day they rode, hardly drawing rein at all. At first through the foot-hills and then over the wide plains. Jo had a fresh horse, a powerful black, as his other mount could not stand the strain of the long trip that meant three score and ten of miles before evening.
Early in the afternoon they left the plain and rode into the deep and rugged gorges of a mountain chain, running East and West. Thence into a broad valley leading South-easterly, and about fourp. m.they turned directly South entering a Pass in the Southern side of the valley, from which they emerged on a plain. Where the trail left the Pass stood a largesycamoretree, when they reached it, the Indian messenger rose from its shelter.
Now withouthesitationwe must take up the fortunes or rather misfortunes of Tom and Juarez as they landed in the darkness upon the mysterious island, for our narrative presses to its conclusion. Never did they feel more hopeless than on this occasion, when they were going to a dubious and uncertain fate.
"You boys come with me," called the Captain gruffly.
"How about me, Cap'n?" asked Jeems Howell, the lanky shepherd.
"What's your business?" inquired Captain Broom briefly.
"Looking after the sheeps."
"Then attend to it," said the Captain grimly.
"Certainly, Cap'n," replied the shepherd, who was incapable of taking offense.
"You come, Jake," called the Captain, to one of the sailors, "and be quick about it, we haven'tmuch time." Tom shivered, for in the gloom and tired as he was he felt that his time too was short.
Then with the Captain in the lead, carrying a lantern, which was muffled in his great coat, they started, the sailor bringing up the rear.
"Look out sharp, that these lads don't spring something on you, Jake. They are a bad lot."
"Aye, aye, sir," replied the sailor, "they'll have to be quick to get the jump on me, sir."
"It's the Injun one's the worst. Don't let him scalp you," warned the Captain jocosely.
"I'm no Indian," said Juarez, hoarsely and utterly reckless of his fate, "I'm an American, and was proud of it, till I found you were one, you cursed yankee barnacle."
"Ho, ho, lad!" roared the Captain, "you won't talk so tall in a few minutes. Nothing like a slow fire for stewing the nonsense out of a fresh kid."
"How far is this cave of yours, you are taking us to, old salt horse?" said Juarez insolently, and utterly unwise.
This was too much for Captain Broom, and with an imprecation he turned to strike Juarez. This was what Juarez was looking for and as the furious Skipper whirled facing him, Juarez dodged his huge fist, and sent a fierce hook to the Captain's jaw.There was anger, desperation and strength behind that blow and the Captain fell, striking his head on a rock. That time the Frontier Boys scored.
"Follow me, Tom," yelled Juarez, and he sprang away through the darkness. It seemed like a hopeless undertaking to make an escape with the sea on one side and the cliffs on the other, and a desperate enemy near at hand. But Juarez thought it was best to take a chance. Anything was better than captivity, that was seemingly just ahead of them.
One thing he was determined on and that was, that he would not be taken alive. He ran splashing through the water, leaping rocks, with the two sailors in fast pursuit. Not far ahead to the right was the white dash of the breakers that shut off escape in that direction, to the left was the cliffs.
Then before him rose a steep but not precipitous rock that had been divided from the main cliff by the action of the water. Instantly Juarez abandoned his desperate plan of plunging into the sea, and without lessening his speed, he sprang up the rock, in his moccasined feet.
The sailor who was following most closely, got up ten feet when he slipped and rolled violently to the bottom, knocking down the one who came after.Once Juarez came near falling but he caught himself, and kept going up, driven by a desperation that seemed to carry him over every obstacle.
"We've got yer, ye little shrimp," exultantly cried the sailors at the base of the rock, "Ye can't get away unless you fly."
"Shoot the blasted little varmint," roared the Captain, who, still dizzy, had struggled to his feet. In obedience to the order a flash punctured the darkness and there was a roar like artillery echoing among the hollow cliffs. A slug of lead whistled past Juarez's head.
The boy had now reached the top of the rock and was at the crisis of his fate, a distance of ten feet separated him from the main cliff, not an impossible jump but the foothold was precarious and uncertain, and fifty feet or more below were the jagged rocks, and enemies equally as hard, but Juarez did not hesitate.
He dodged down just as the sailors fired another shot, then he sprang to the narrow pinnacle of the rock and bending slightly forward with bent knees and swinging hand, poised for the leap.
"The condemned fool is going to jump," roared the Captain. "Shoot him on the wing."
But the sailors were not ready and the skipper ran between the rock and the cliff to be at hand tostamp the life out of Juarez when he should fall as he knew he would. Then he leaped, a dark object flying through space, his hands caught the edge of the cliff, the roots of a small bush held him for a moment, then he slipped. Below him was certain death.
Two strong hands caught his arms, and he was drawn in safety to the cliff above. The Captain and the two sailors watched in open mouthed wonder, all they could see was the dim figure of Juarez crawl in safety over the top of the cliff, but they could not determine the means of his escape.
It struck a superstitious chord in their natures and the skipper became moody and silent.
Juarez breathlessly followed the lanky figure of the shepherd through the darkness, for it was no other who had extended the rescuing hand. Hardly a word was spoken, and they started off. After going a considerable distance they came to a slab hut built at the foot of a high range of hills that formed the backbone of the island.
Two shepherd dogs rushed forth and gave their master a boisterous welcome, and were soon good friends with Juarez. Everything in the hut was neat; with Indian rugs on the floor which gave awarm touch of color to the interior and one side of the hut was lined with books.
"What am I thinking of," suddenly cried Juarez in dismay, "to leave Tom in the hands of that crew? My head is wrong." With that, he grew pale and slid unconscious to the floor. He had evidently not recovered from the blow that the Mexican had dealt him a few days before, and the strain he had been under brought on a relapse. The shepherd worked over him a long time before he finally brought him around.
Meanwhile what had become of Tom? He had not been quick enough to make his escape, and his fate was in the balance when the Skipper came up to him just after Juarez had disappeared over the cliff.
"You don't get away, I promise you that, lad," growled the Captain. Roughly seizing the boy by the shoulder he dragged him toward the cliff. Then the two disappeared into the entrance of a cave, the Captain still holding in one hand his battered leather satchel.
The sailor who stood on guard at the entrance, saw just then the lights of a steamer that was just entering the channel and he rushed into the cave, called to the Captain, and in a few minutes that worthy appeared. If he felt any alarm he showednone, but without any loss of time he assembled his crew, got his boat free of land and rowed silently out to sea. Whatever he had intended to do with Tom, evidently passed from his mind, now awakened to the solution of some other problem.
As Juarez and Tom were under the kindly escort of Captain Broom and his sailors in the whale boat on their cruise to the mysterious island, Jo, Jim and the Spaniard had stopped at an old sycamore tree, where, as had been promised, the Indian messenger was awaiting their coming.
"What news, Yaquis?" asked the Spaniard, who knew the Indian well.
"I saw the boat by my own eyes," he replied, "heading for the Big Island," pointing to the South. "By her smoke she stopped in the Bow Harbor near the lower end." So spoke the Indian, standing straight and tall. He was a picturesque sight with his coarse, black hair cut square and long.
"The trail is getting warm," exclaimed Jim eagerly. "Where can we get a boat?"
"There is a small boat at the Harbor of San Pedro," replied the Spaniard, "that is the property of a friend of mine. I doubt not we can have the use of it."
"It is now a little after six," said Jim. "How far is it to the Harbor?"
"A dozen miles," replied the Indian.
"Is your horse too tired, Senor Sebastian, to make it by eight?" The Spaniard's eyes flashed.
"Senor, Don Fernando is never tired. Let us start."
"We are ready," replied Jim. "Which is the shortest cut?"
"I will guide you," was the Indian's response.
"He knows this country like the foot does the shoe," assured the Spaniard.
Without more ado, the new guide took the lead and they rode at a rapid gait in single file. At first they went down a gentle grade for several miles until they came to a perfectly level plain that stretched in three directions to the sea. At the end of the land was a perfectly rounded rise like a huge long bolster.
The party of rescuers left the Puebla de los Angeles several miles to the East, taking the shortest way to the harbor. There was no let-up to the speed, if anything, they seemed to be going faster, with sweaty sides and shoulders, but with unaffected stamina. The going was fine,over a springy turf and sometimes they tore through wide belts of tall mustard.
Jo and Jim were in fine fettle as the end of the journey came in sight and there was promise of their coming to close quarters with the pirates and possibly rescuing their oppressed brothers from captivity. Then, too, the passage of the strait in an open boat appealed to their sense of adventure.
About eight o'clock, they came to a ranch two miles from the harbor, where Senor Sebastian had a short talk with a man who owned the small boat that had been referred to. He was perfectly willing to lend them the boat and also sent a Mexican servant to bring back their horses and put them up in his stables. Not forgetting to thank him for his great kindness to them, the boys turned their horses' heads for the harbor, the last lap of their long journey had begun.
In a half hour, they stood on the shore of a long, narrow inlet, at a point where a craft was moored. From a small boat-house, they got the oars, the mast and the sail to be used if the wind was right. Then they were ready to get aboard. Jim looked at his watch. "It lacks ten minutes of nine," he said.
Then they embarked. The boat was not a mere row-boat, but was found to be of good sizeand about equal to a whale boat. It was staunch, too, and sea worthy. The mooring was cast off. Jim was at the bow oar, and Jo at the one back of him on the other side, while the Indian, Yaquis, steered. The tide favored them as they glided quickly between the banks, and they were not long in reaching the channel.
At first, there was a slow, heavy swell, while in the lee of the land, that did not bother the boys but within a half hour they were in a choppy sea with breaking crests, and now the real work for Jo and Jim began. Fortunately, the Indian was a most skillful oar, and he kept them from being swamped. As yet there was no breeze to help them.
"This is almost as good as running the Rapids in the Grand Canyon," cried Jim joyously.
The boys were in fine fettle for their work, notwithstanding their long day in the saddle, and they buckled to it with a will, although wet through with flying spray. They had enjoyed a good rest the night before and after their long ride they were glad to get the kinks out of their muscles. They really made remarkably good headway against the sea and the stoical Indian grunted approval of their work. Ah, but it was fine, battling with the waves through the darkness, while the boat thrashed and beat its way ahead.
The boys stood to their oars and put all the strength of their lithe young bodies into the stroke and they seemed tireless. The Spaniard had made himself comfortable in the bow, where, sheltered by a short overhead deck, he was soon fast asleep.
"Wake me when it is time to be drowned," he said. "I know it is my fate." Jim remembered the Spaniard's melancholy of the day before, and laughed heartily, as he promised.
"There are the lights of a vessel," cried Yaquis, who, though silent, was ever on the watch. "Ahead of us to the Southwest."
"You are right," said Jim. The lights were like two faint, moving stars, one aloft and the other below.
"That isn't the Pirate ship," declared Jo. "She wouldn't be showing any light." After a while, the lights of the vessel were suddenly eclipsed, but by the dull light of the moon, now risen, the vessel's bulk could still be made out.
"She has gone into the further straits," said Yaquis, "between the two islands."
A gentle breeze sprang up, but blowing directly toward them, it lent no aid. Before midnight, the westerly breeze had died absolutelydown, and in a not very long time, the sea followed suit, leaving a long swell and the rowing became much easier. Nothing occurred to break the monotony for a while. There was the steady grinding of the oars in the row-locks and the lapping of the waves in the gloom, for the moon was now obscured by clouds. Then, of a sudden, the Indian called a halt.
"Do you hear footsteps?" inquired Jim, jocosely.
"A steamer coming, I hear her, no lights. Pull hard." In a minute, even the boys could hear the beat of her engines and saw the occasional flare from her stacks, then a dark form took shape through the night. They pulled lustily for they knew their danger and who it was. How quickly they would be run down, if discovered, and left to drown in the wide strait, when Captain Broom found out their identity. No wonder they pulled.
"Stop now, draw in your oars. Lie down," warned the Indian.
Not a hundred yards to the Eastward came The Sea Eagle and she was on an even line with the boat that lay a black patch on the dark water. If Captain Broom was not on the Bridge they would be safe.
"Boat ahoy," boomed out his voice.
"Indian fishermen," cried Yaquis. "Stop, take me ashore."
With a growl, the Captain sent his ship ahead, paying no attention to the "Indian fisherman" in distress. There was a gleam of white teeth as the Indian smiled at the hearty congratulations of the boys and their glee at his stratagem. Then the Spaniard and Yaquis took the oars while Jim steered and Jo slept.
When morning came, they were but a few miles from the Northern end of the longer Island and the fog was over the whole sky. The sea was glassy with a sullen glaze. Nowhere was there sign of any steamer or ship. The Sea Eagle had made good her escape.
"I wish we had a stiff breeze to help us along," said the Spaniard, who loved not manual labor, as did the boys.
"It will come, the strong breeze, soon," said the Indian.
"When we make the Island, what are we to do?" asked Jo.
"Who can tell, maybe Tom and Juarez have been taken along with the Skipper, instead of being marooned."
"That's so," replied Jo, and gloom settled down upon his spirits, heavier than the fog upon the sea.
"We will keep after them," said the never despondent Jim, "even if we have to chase them around the world."
The boat seemed to crawl so slowly along, and the boys began to fret in their eagerness to find out whether their comrades were on the island or not, but they were not yet close enough to make out any object upon its surface. Then from the West there came a breeze rippling the glassy water.
"Up with the sail," cried Jim. "Here's where we fly."
As the breeze strengthened to a wind, they went towards the island at a clipping gait. When they got within a half mile of the shore, they began to look eagerly for some sign of a living being and they were disappointed at first, but they drove their boat along as near the shore as they dared.
"Say, did you hear that?" cried Jim in excitement. "That was a rifle shot, or my name is Dennis."
"Three men on the shore," said the Indian, imperturbably.
"I see them," cried Jo, "on that beach yonder. I believe it is Tom and Juarez. Hurrah for the Frontier Boys."
"It is they," declared Jim as they drew closer,"but how Tom has grown. He looks over six feet."
"That isn't Tom," said Jo. "It's some one else. The short one is Tom." Then he saw Jim grin and realized that he had been kidded.
"If this wasn't my busy day," said Jo, "I'd give you a punching for being so smart."
Five minutes later, the boat had grounded on the pebbly beach and The Frontier Boys were again united. There was a great jubilee for a while with the Spaniard, the Indian, and the lanky shepherd on the outskirts of the family celebration, but in a short time they were all good friends, each according to his different nature; the Spaniard, suave and courteous, the Indian stolid, but with his share in the general good-will, and Jeems Howell, the shepherd, lankily humorous.
"We met our old friend Captain Broom in the channel, boys," said Jim, "steaming along like the Devil was after him."
"I'll give him reason to think so," growled Juarez sullenly, "if I ever get on his trail."
The Indian, Yaquis, grunted approval, for there seemed to be a bond of sympathy between him and Juarez, as the reader can well understand.
"How far is that cave, Tom, where the old codger left you?" inquired Jo.
"Just around the bend," said Tom. "Here's the rock where Juarez made his famous jump."
"How did you ever get up there?" asked Jo in wonder, looking up at the pinnacle of rock.
"You'd a done the same if those fellows had been chasing you," replied Juarez, "but if it hadn't been for Jeems here catching me when I jumped they would have got me after all."
"I was afeard you might have fallen on the Skipper and a hurt him. He's a kind of a tender plant you know." The Shepherd made this remark with a perfectly sober face, in no wise disturbed by the hilarity of the boys, over the idea of the tenderness of the Skipper.
"Here's the cave," said Juarez, and he led the way through an arched opening in the wall of the cliff. Picking up a lantern, he went ahead as guide.
"This is certainly a dry cave," said Jim.
"It ought to be," said Jeems Howell. "It don't rain on this Island more than twice a year, but I feel it in my bones that it is coming on to storm today."
"I hope you don't feel it inallyour bones," remarked Jim, quizzically, "because it is liable to be a long drawn out storm if you do."
The lanky Shepherd gave himself over to spasms of silent mirth at Jim's queer humor.
"Here's where we found Tom," said Juarez. "Just discovered him a couple of hours before you discovered us."
When the Captain had made his sudden change of plans, Tom made himself as comfortable as he could for the night, intending to search for Juarez in the morning.
"Sometime I hope that this wretched Captain will be captured and imprisoned right here," said the Spaniard with a cold, vindictiveness.
"If he comes snooping around here again, that is what will happen to him," remarked Jim quietly. "I suppose, Tom, that he hid some of the loot he took from us in this cave somewhere. I bet this is his safe deposit vault, all right."
"He went back in there with his small satchel," said Tom, indicating the depths of the cave as yet unexplored.
"It will keep," said Jim, "but before I leave this island for Hawaii, I am going to search every corner of this cave and see if I cannot find our property."
"We discovered it in a cave and perhaps we will lose our treasure in a cave," said Juarez, who was something of a fatalist.
"Don't you believe that we won't find it," declared Jim stoutly, "but no work for me for a while. I'm going to take a good rest."
"So say we all of us," chanted the boys.
"Gentlemen," said Jeems Howell oracularly, "If it pleases you, and Christopher Columbus," with a wave of his hand toward Jim, "who discovered this savage group, we will now adjourn to my castle on the distant hillside."
"We are with you," declared those assembled in unison, and in a short time they were making their way up the slope towards the "castle" on the hillside, where they made themselves at home.
All the new arrivals at the island were soon fast asleep.
Later after several hours of rest, they occupied themselves according to their different ideas of comfort.
The Spaniard amused himself thrumming on a guitar, that belonged to one of the Mexican herders on the island. Tom got a book, and stretched out on a rug forgetful of all his recent troubles, while Jim and Juarez borrowed a couple of guns and went for an hour's hunting, in the woods which at that time covered the mountain ridges of the island.
That evening they were all gathered in the cabin before the blazing fire on the stone hearth, whileoutside raged the Easterly storm that Jeems Howell had predicted, with rush of wind and sweep of rain. But the slab cabin was storm proof and comfortable. It is a good place to leave the boys after their days of trial and bitter hardship. In our next book we will meet "The Frontier Boys in Hawaii, or The mystery of The Hollow Mountain." There, I feel confident they will cope with adventures as unusual and as remarkable as they have heretofore encountered. I am sure that the Reader will be anxious to accompany them on their journey. But we must permit the Frontier Boys to have the last word, in this volume.
"Do you think that Captain Broom, will return here, before we get away for Hawaii, Jim?" inquired brother Jo.
"I certainly do," replied Jim, "and we will be right here, to give him a warm and hearty Welcome, you can rest assured of that."