"Better die in trying to do a good turn to this other fellow, and my plain duty, than hang behind and become the companion of ruffians and murderers," he said. "There go the spurs and boots, and off come the overalls and coat. Now I'm ready. I want a rope to throw over the side so as to allow me to enter the water quietly."
He tiptoed across the deck again, but without success, and it was not till he had been the complete round of the rail that he came upon a coil of rope lying in the scuppers. Creeping aft again, he secured one end to the rail and lowered the other into the water. Then he took one last look at the cabin door, beneath which there was a long and narrow streak of light, while from the interior came the murmur of voices. The young fellow could see in his mind's eye the figures of the men slouching about the table, the bearded face and cunning, lowering look of the leader, the unshaven, dirty features of the sailor, and the dissipated appearance of the gauchos. He could imagine the reek of smoke and strong tobacco in the stuffy little place, the tin pannikins and the stone spirit jar. The very memory of such loathsome companions threw cold water on any fears which he still might possess, and strengthened his resolution. He gave one more glance at the streak of light issuing from beneath the door, looked away at the twinkling glimmer, and stepped on to the rail. A moment later he was outside it, one hand gripping tightly and the other feeling for the rope. Then suddenly something else attracted his attention, and kept him clinging there. There was a commotion ashore, and a blaze of light came unexpectedly from one of the saloons, showing that the door had been thrown wide open. Out into the broad patch of light which streamed from the saloon emerged the men whom Mr. Blunt had engaged to work on his rancho. They were shouting and singing, and clinging arm to arm. They rolled from the doorway, reeled across the street, and then were suddenly blotted out in the darkness of the night, for someone had closed the door of the saloon. But still they were there, reeling back towards their boat, for their shouts and choruses told of their presence.
"That should wake this Englishman, if anything will," thought the young fellow clinging to the rail. "Surely the noise they are making will warn him that trouble is brewing and will put him on his guard. Shall I go after all?"
A glance at the dull outline of his clothes lying on the deck a few inches away told him that there was no turning back, that he must go on with his part of the undertaking, while, had that been insufficient to warn him, a second later he had ample assurance that further stay on the boat would be dangerous alike to him and to the man who was threatened; for the door of the cabin burst open again, and the men who had been lounging over the table rushed on deck. Running to the rails, they stared across the strip of river at the spot from which the noise came.
"The fools!" cried their leader. "They will warn the Englishman with their clatter. They will wake him and spoil our plans."
"Not if you set to at once," suddenly burst in the sailor, who had grasped the man's meaning. "Slip the cable now and float down. Chances are that this Mr. Blunt expected as much when he saw them go ashore. He'll wake for sure, and he'll wait while they turn in. Then he'll sleep again, if these fools don't quarrel with him right away and spoil everything. Best slip the cable now and get aboard the boat before they arrive."
He spoke in English, and led the way at once to the bow of the boat. In a second the others were following, and almost before the young fellow hanging to the rail could grasp their intentions they were slacking out the cable with feverish energy, doing their utmost to reach their victim before the gang of men ashore could upset their plans.
It was time to move. If the Englishman aboard the neighboring boat was to be warned it must be at once. The young fellow glanced back at the twinkling light again, and at once slid down the rope, entering the water without so much as a splash. Then he struck out boldly, and in a few minutes was well away from the vessel.
"There is still time to give the warning," he thought, as he thrust the water behind him. "If only I can get aboard before these men I shall have done something."
As he made his way through the water he thought of the ruffians behind him laboring at the cable, and of those ashore. He knew very well that the first, if they caught sight of his figure, would guess his object and would fire on him. The fear of such an occurrence made him long to turn round to look back at the men, and make sure that he was as yet undiscovered. But that meant delay, and, throwing aside the fear at once, he went on manfully, his eye fixed upon the glimmering light, now very much nearer. Not a shout disturbed him, and even the men ashore seemed to have awakened to the fact that the noise they had been making would ruin their plans. They were silent now, and if only the darkness had not hidden them, they could have been seen creeping down to the landing stage, revolver in hand, ready to aid their comrades. Then, too, if the sides of the vessel in which Mr. Blunt and Dudley lay had not been impenetrable to the eye, this young and gallant fellow would have known that the man upon whom the attack was to be made lay in his bunk, wrapped in a blanket, looking uneasily at the door. He was wide awake, as was his companion, and evidently somewhat upset by the noise which till a moment before had been coming from the shore.
"As I thought," he said in low tones. "That is the worst of tying up to the bank within reach of saloons, and a lesson to employ, whenever possible, a different stamp of men. Those fellows have been drinking, and may be quarrelsome. We will not appear if they call to us. Let us pretend to be asleep, for then there can be no quarrel, and perhaps they will turn in quietly. Ah, they have become silent! That's an excellent sign."
"What's that?" It was Dudley who suddenly sat up and asked the question, for he had heard a splash close alongside, and the noise had been repeated.
"Perhaps a floating log," answered Mr. Blunt. "Nothing to be alarmed at. Ah, that's one arrival!"
There was a bang on the deck just above their heads, and a soft footfall was heard. A moment later Dudley thought he detected a step on the tiny ladder which led down to the cabin in which they lay. He listened intently, his finger on the butt of his revolver, and then started to his feet as a knock sounded on the door. The sudden and unexpected sound startled them both, and brought Mr. Blunt to a sitting position.
"Come in," he called softly, slipping his own weapon from its pouch and facing the door. "Come in at once!"
A hand fumbled in the darkness for the latch, the handle turned, and in a trice the door flew open. For a second the youth who appeared stood perfectly still, blinking at the lantern. Then, with a quick movement, the young fellow, who had so bravely swum from the other vessel, entered the cabin, and swung the door to again. He was breathless with his exertions, for it had been no easy matter to climb aboard. Then, too, he was in the highest pitch of excitement, for he knew that his warning had arrived not an instant too soon. He stood there, the water streaming from him and forming a rapidly increasing pool on the floor. He opened his mouth to speak, when Dudley staggered back a step, looked incredulously at the stranger, and then uttered a cry of astonishment.
"DUDLEY LOOKED INCREDULOUSLY AT THE STRANGER, AND THEN UTTERED A CRY OF ASTONISHMENT""DUDLEY LOOKED INCREDULOUSLY AT THE STRANGER,AND THEN UTTERED A CRY OF ASTONISHMENT"
"Joyce! You here! This is strange!"
"Dudley! Dudley Compton!"
The recognition was mutual. In spite of Harold Joyce's half-drowned appearance, Dudley knew him the instant he set eyes on the strange apparition at the doorway of the cabin, while the lad who had so bravely swum across to give his warning needed no second view of the sturdy, bronzed figure standing, revolver in hand, just beneath the swaying lantern. In a flash he knew that he was face to face with the old school friend whom he had wronged, the lad whose future had been darkened by a cloud which he, Harold Joyce, could have dispelled had he had the courage to confess his crime. It was a moment of intense interest in both their young lives, and it is not to be wondered at that, in spite of the urgency of the situation, of the need for instant action, these two young fellows stared in amazement at each other as if they were spellbound. Then Harold suddenly found his tongue.
Drenched from head to foot, and standing in a pool of water which drained constantly from him, Harold Joyce might have been excused under the extraordinary conditions if he had forgotten his special mission to the ship on which he had discovered Dudley, for he had suddenly come face to face with one to whom he owed an explanation, and whose forgiveness he could hardly hope to gain. But he remembered the urgency of the position, and, still strong in his resolve to give his warning of attack, he swung round to the other figure standing, pistol in hand, before him.
"You are Mr. Blunt?" he asked.
"I am, my lad."
"Then you have not a moment to lose. I came up the river as a passenger in that other boat which moored up above you. There is a gang of ruffians aboard, who are friends of the men you engaged, and who are now returning here. I learned the tale from an English sailor, who is one of the gang. Quick, sir, they are slacking out their hawser, and dropping down upon you. They mean to rob and kill you."
The words tumbled from him rapidly, while he stepped forward eagerly and laid his hand on Mr. Blunt's arm.
"You haven't a moment to spare," he urged. "They are already only a few yards away, and you must act."
"The scoundrels! A gang letting their boat down on us so as to get aboard? And you say that the men we engaged are in the plot? What is to be done?"
Mr. Blunt stared in astonishment at Harold, and then swung round to look at Dudley, as if to ask his help, for the situation was critical, and though he was a man who had faced many dangers, and was not lacking in resource, yet this warning had come so suddenly, and gave such little time for thought, that he was utterly at a loss. As for Dudley, he could hardly fix his attention on the danger. His eyes were riveted on Harold Joyce, the last person he had expected to meet out in these foreign parts, and the only one who could clear his character. For some months now he had borne the knowledge that he was looked upon as a thief by his old friends and comrades at home. The stigma, in spite of Mr. Blunt's kindly belief in him, still filled his mind with bitterness, and had caused him to register a solemn vow. Deep down in his mind our hero had decided to work for his employer, to improve his position in the world, and never to rest till he had proved to all that he was innocent of theft, that he had been wrongly accused, and was the victim of another's crime. Was it wonderful, therefore, that, finding himself suddenly face to face with the very one whom he knew must be the guilty person—the only person, in fact, who could clear him of the stigma under which he suffered, that question filled his mind to the exclusion of all others? He was helpless! The ruffians might even board the boat and commence their attack, and any defence he might make would be almost automatic. However, Joyce was by no means asleep, while Mr. Blunt had no intention of being taken without a struggle.
"Dudley," he cried sharply, "we must do something. We shall be outnumbered, and if we don't make an effort the rascals will murder all three of us. What are we to do? Quick, lad! Suggest something."
"The cables, sir," cried Harold, pulling at the handle of the door. "You are moored alongside the staging, they tell me. Cut the cables and float out into the stream. Then they will miss you. I've a knife. It is the only thing we can do to escape them."
He pulled the door open, while with an exclamation of delight Mr. Blunt blew out the candle in the lamp and dragged Dudley out on to the deck. Harold had already gained it and, knife in hand, raced forward. Going on hands and knees he felt for the cable which moored the boat for'ard, and, finding it, severed it with a sweep of the blade. Meanwhile Mr. Blunt had sought for the rope right aft, and with a slash from his hunting knife cut it in two. By then Dudley had recovered from his astonishment at what had occurred. With an effort he banished all thought of the crime for which he was expelled. Once more he was working in the interests of his employer, and set about his defence with all his old enthusiasm. He ran into the bow, where he and Harold stood side by side, listening to the men aboard the other boat.
"They are within ten yards, I should say," he whispered to Joyce. "That should give us just time to get away, unless the mud holds us. Are we moving?"
Harold promptly hung over the rail, and stared down at the black surface of the river.
"I don't think so," he answered in low tones, coming to Dudley's side again. "We are on the mud. They will catch us yet."
"Not if we pole away. There are some poles on deck, I know. Come along with me, Harold. And, look here, just pitch that plank overboard."
They were standing close beside the place where the plank gangway came in from the shore, and at once Harold seized it and gently drew it inboard.
"Better not make a row by throwing it over," he whispered. "The beggars don't know we've moved yet. Better keep them in ignorance. Ah, here's a pole!"
Mr. Blunt joined them at that instant, and, hearing what they were doing, at once helped them. It happened that there were several long poles lying along the scuppers, for often enough the river boats got aground on a mud or sand bank, and then the crew were forced to pole them off. Seizing three of them, the trio lowered the ends into the water close to the bow, and pushed with might and main. The boat moved. She had a good deal of water under her, and the mud just held the after part of her shallow keel. The bow swung out rapidly, the poles were shifted, and in a minute the boat was almost broadside on to the stream. By then the one which was descending upon them was within four yards, but so busy were the ruffians at her cable that as yet they had not discovered what was occurring.
"They will know in a moment," whispered Mr. Blunt, drawing in his pole. "The ruffians ashore are on the wharf already. You can hear them now. They are searching for the boat and the gangway, and in a few seconds one of them will see us out here. Then the whole pack will shout, and those aboard the vessel just above us will fire. Got a weapon, sir?"
"I have nothing," answered Harold promptly. "I left my revolver behind. I was afraid of the weight."
"Then here is one, and don't be afraid to use it. Those rascals will shoot you as if you were a dog. They have no qualms about taking human life, and if you want to get out of this trouble you must be just as ready to kill them. Dudley, can we do anything else?"
"We might keep them from boarding by pushing out one of the poles," he answered. "If they can get within six feet they will jump aboard, and then we shall not have a chance. We are swinging round rapidly now, and at the rate they are coming down they will strike our stern, I fancy. I'll go over there with this pole, and push them away if possible."
"While I and this young gentleman shoot down those who wish to pay us a visit. Ah, there they are! The dogs are barking with a vengeance. Come along with me, sir, and remember to keep below the rail. Those fellows over there on the wharf might get your figure against a white patch in the sky, and they are wonderful shots. Don't show more than you can help, and when you shoot, shoot quickly, and duck again."
Harold Joyce gripped the revolver which had been handed to him, and followed Mr. Blunt along the deck to the spot where Dudley had already taken up his station with the pole. It was a new experience to him to find himself in actual danger of his life, but up to this moment he had had no opportunity of considering the situation. The fact of finding himself aboard a vessel containing a gang of cut-throats had helped not a little to make up his mind to accept the risk of swimming to the other vessel, though to do him justice he was eager to play a man's game in the matter, and do what was his obvious duty. But even then, once his decision was made, and he had slid into the river, the need for exertion and for caution had filled his thoughts, so that he was able to give little attention to the subject of personal danger, though, to be sure, he felt extremely uncomfortable when he remembered the revolvers which the gang had so openly displayed, and the fact that a bullet might soon be hissing after him. Now, however, as he crouched behind the rail of the ship and watched the other boat slowly approaching, he had a moment or two to realize his position, and the fact that the gang he had so lately left would stop at nothing. He could see that if they could only board the ship upon which he crouched, he and his two companions would certainly be shot. Even if the gang were unsuccessful in reaching the vessel, it was certain that bullets would be flying, and, supposing one came his way, supposing he was killed!
The thought made him shudder. He shivered from head to foot, and for one brief second felt inclined to dive into the cabin and hide his head there in the farthest corner. But he conquered the impulse. He looked at the dark figure crouching beside him, and heard Mr. Blunt's voice.
"Just remember what I said, lad," he whispered. "Keep down and shoot quickly. And, my lad, now that I have a second, let me thank you for your warning. You risked much, and have placed yourself in a position of great danger. I shall hope to be able, later, to thank you for behaving like a gallant gentleman."
The words came in the nick of time. Harold Joyce, the lad who had been noted at school for frivolity, for indecision, for shirking games in which personal injury might be incurred, heard himself described as a gallant gentleman. Remembering what despicable courage he had once displayed, when he allowed his old comrade to be branded as a thief, he winced at the words. Then he lifted his head, for this young fellow had still the makings of an honorable man in him. He had been undecided once. He had shown the most lamentable want of courage. But that was in the past. He, too, had suffered, and had learnt his lesson. Long ago he had made up his mind never to rest till he had set the matter of Dudley's expulsion right. He had declared his guilt before the whole school, so that our hero's name was now as bright there as ever. And now he had come out to South America with one solitary and praiseworthy object. He had taken advantage of the liberal allowance made by his father to come in search of Dudley, to meet him face to face, and tell him what had happened. Then, if possible, he would obtain his forgiveness. Indeed, Harold Joyce's conscience had done much for his wavering resolution already. He had shown to all at home an honest and steady intention to reform, and was he going at this moment to show his old indecision under the very eyes of the one who had suffered for his fault in the past? Never! The lad closed his teeth firmly, gripped his revolver, and swore beneath his breath to fight hard for his old friend, to do something more than he had already accomplished that night, so as to show him that Harold Joyce had something good left in him yet.
"What if I am killed?" he thought. "Then Dudley will never know what has happened. He will not know that he is cleared, and why I have come out here. There is time to tell him now. We are swinging fast, and that boat is still ten feet away. I'll do it."
He crept a pace nearer to our hero and touched his leg.
"Dudley!" he called softly. "Dudley, I want to say something now before the row begins. I am a sneak and a coward. I stole the money, and came out here to tell you so. I confessed to the old head, and to the whole school, and could not rest till I had told you all that had happened. That's all, only I'm ashamed of myself. I acted like a cad and a blackguard."
There was silence for some few seconds, a tense silence, aboard their boat, while from the wharf came the patter of feet on the woodwork, and the call of one of the men to those aboard the vessel now so close to Dudley and his friends. Then came an answering hail, and the noise made by a man stumbling over a coil of rope. In a minute, in less time than that perhaps, the alarm would be sounded, and the gang of ruffians would know that their expected victims were warned of their intentions and were already making efforts to escape. It was, in fact, hardly the moment for a confession, and yet who can wonder that Joyce made it? The subject of the theft filled his mind as much as it did Dudley's. Remorse had been eating at his heart for many weeks past, and now he felt desperate. He was so near to the object for which he had struggled. He had come to South America for one purpose, and could not bear to think that now, at the last instant, he might lose all. If only he could tell Dudley his tale, and have his answer, he felt that nothing else mattered, not even a bullet, for he knew now that he could die happily once he had done this duty to his old comrade. His hand tightened on our hero's leg convulsively, while Mr. Blunt coughed huskily.
As for Dudley, he could hardly believe his ears. He knew well, had known all along, that Harold Joyce was guilty, but even in his most sanguine moments he had never expected to be so completely cleared. And now, when he heard that the head and every boy at the school knew that he was innocent, when he heard that Harold had confessed all, and not content with that had followed him to South America there to tell him what he had done, why it was almost too much! The leg which Joyce gripped trembled and shook. Dudley could not speak for an instant, but he knew what his old comrade must be suffering, and at once, with a magnanimity which did his heart good, he stretched down, took the hand clasping his leg, and gripped it eagerly. Then he was able to steady himself.
"All right, old fellow!" he said. "I can't thank you now, but will do so later. You have lifted a load from my mind."
"Then you forgive me, Dudley? There is nothing to thank me for. I have done only bare justice to you."
"With all my heart," came the swift answer. "You have made up for all by behaving like a decent fellow."
"Hear, hear! Hear, hear!" came from Mr. Blunt.
A second later a shout came across the water, for the man who had hailed his comrades on the boat had suddenly caught sight of the other one swinging out into the stream. At first he and his comrades had searched vainly for her in the darkness, and had come very near to tumbling into the river in their efforts to find the gangway. Then, little by little, it had dawned on their sluggish minds that they were beaten, that the man whose money they hoped to take was wide awake, and was already slipping from their clutches. They had promised themselves to commence their work in the Entre Rios country by a successful coup on the way up the Paraná River, and the man who was responsible for their being brought together had specially urged them to make Mr. Blunt their first victim. Perhaps he had some special reason, but in any case the grazier who occupied the boat now swinging away from the wharf, the man whose employment they had so cunningly accepted, was escaping, and once their minds had grasped that fact they set up such a din that those aboard the other vessel were quickly informed of what was happening. The tall, black-bearded Italian ruffian at their head grasped the meaning of those shouts at once, and came bounding along the deck, striking heavily against a yard in the darkness. With a growl he picked himself up, for the collision had thrown him to the deck, and ran to the stern.
"Cut the rope," he shouted to his men. "Cut it, and come here with me. We are close to them, and in a moment can get on board. It is that English youth who has cheated us, I expect, and, if that is so, the sailor shall have small mercy. Ah, I see them!"
He stood to his full height against the stern rail of the river boat, and peered into the darkness. He could see the big hull of the other boat looming across the river some few feet away, and as he watched his eye suddenly lit on Dudley, standing pole in hand ready to push the attacking vessel away. The rascal did not hesitate, and in an instant his hand went to the revolver which was tucked into a deep pocket on his thigh. Barely lifting it from that position he pulled the trigger and sent a ball flying through the darkness. Indeed it was the darkness alone which saved Dudley, for the ruffian who had drawn trigger was an expert shot with the revolver and seldom missed. However, it was but a dull outline which he had caught of Dudley, and his muzzle was directed just a shade too much to one side. The bullet whizzed past his head, missing it by little more than an inch, and, flying along the deck, buried itself in the mast, giving a loud and ominous thud as it did so. An instant later Mr. Blunt rose to his feet, a spout of flame shot from his weapon, lighting up the immediate surroundings for one brief instant, and then he was down again, listening eagerly, and waiting for another opportunity, while he dragged at Dudley's clothing.
"Get down," he said sharply. "I saw what was happening by the flash. We are travelling as fast as they are. Probably faster, for we are almost broadside on, and the stream has more hold on us. Did I hit?"
A sharp cry had followed his shot, showing that in all probability it had hit the mark, but still as Dudley looked over the rail he could see the tall figure of the rascal who had fired at him. The man stood stock-still, making no effort to retaliate, and if only he had been nearer, and the night not so intensely dark, they would have seen that he was gripping the rail convulsively. For the bullet which Mr. Blunt had fired had struck the ruffian hard, so hard, in fact, that it was a wonder that the man did not fall to the deck at once. But he was one of those individuals possessed of enormous resolution and courage. He knew that he was badly hit at once. He felt as if his last moment had come, and yet he would not give in. He clung to the rail and swayed backward and forward giddily. He endeavored to turn and call to his followers, but the effort nearly brought him to the deck. Then he stared at Dudley again, made a frantic attempt to pick up the weapon which had dropped at his feet, and then, of a sudden, collapsed on to the rail of the ship. There was a loud crash as the flimsy rail gave way, and then a dull splash. The leader of the gang of ruffians had met his end in the waters of the River Paraná.
"One rascal the less," said Mr. Blunt coolly, lifting his head to look over the rail. "He at least will not trouble us again."
"Then we may escape altogether," broke in Harold. "That man was the ringleader of the gang. He was an Italian, and the sailor told me that he had been appointed leader by some friend who had in particular selected you for the first attack."
"Ah! Is that so? Tell me more, lad."
"There is little to tell you," said Harold in a whisper, as he watched the following boat. "It seems that the men aboard, and those whom you hired, had formed themselves into a gang some four weeks ago, with the intention of going up on to the pampas and robbing the ranchers."
"Robbing! That is a mild term. Shooting them is more correct."
Mr. Blunt spoke very deliberately and coolly. There was not a tremor in his voice, and he seemed to be absolutely unaffected by the excitement of the moment. Indeed he might have forgotten the very existence of the gang of ruffians for all that his listeners could tell. Dudley, as he watched the pursuers, secretly admired the courage of this employer of his. He had never before seen him actually in such a dilemma, but he had long ago come to the conclusion that Mr. Blunt was just the man to go through an engagement without showing a trace of fear or even of excitement. And now his opinion of the man was proved to be correct. Mr. Blunt was questioning Harold Joyce in cool, matter-of-fact tones which showed his calmness and courage.
"Yes, it would appear that that is their intention," said Harold, still in the same low tones. "From what the sailor told me they intended to pay a round of visits, commencing with your estancia, for you are nearest to the Indians, and, so far as I could gather, there seemed to be some special reason why you should be made a victim."
"That is right, lad. There is a reason. Well do I know it. But go on. There is time, for if I am not mistaken we are increasing our distance from those rascals every second. I cannot understand why they do not pack themselves into the stern and blaze at us with their weapons. But, go on, lad."
"Well it happened that, just as their arrangements were complete, you came down the river to Buenos Ayres. They have friends who tell them of any unusual occurrence, and this was reported to them. Everything fell out as they wanted. You required men. They had men to spare, and by putting a portion of their gang on your boat made more sure of getting your money. That is all I know. I thought it was high time to put a spoke in their wheel."
"And so you swum across to warn an absolute stranger. Thanks, lad, it was gallant conduct. But we will speak of that later. For the moment we have yet to deal with these rascals. To think that this is another of their organized bands, and that that old feud still lives, and that those wretches still desire to murder me. Well, well, we shall see. There is still a good deal of life and tenacity left in the old dog. How are matters now, Dudley?"
"We are drawing away. The current seems to have got us in its grip, and we are moving finely. But I cannot make out what those fellows are doing. As soon as the leader had gone overboard I heard a shout, and I think it must have been this sailor whom Harold mentions. Then the men who were running aft stopped, and since that I have seen nothing of them, but can hear them talking."
"They are up to some clever trick, I have no doubt," said Mr. Blunt decisively. "The rascals will not let us slip without an effort. Listen to those ruffians ashore."
They were bellowing loudly to their comrades on the boat, and, if Dudley and his two friends could have seen them, were for the most part collected at the very edge of the wharf, where they stood unsteadily, peering out into the darkness, and calling loudly that they would follow out on to the stream as soon as a boat could be found. Nor was it long before one of their number was successful in his search. He lit upon a boat at the end of the wharf, and, paddling it beneath his friends, called to them to descend—a movement which some of them carried out with such carelessness that the bark was almost upset. Then they pushed out on to the river, and, taking up their paddles, rowed as well as they were able in the direction of their friends. Meanwhile the latter had not been idle. The ominous quiet aboard their boat was followed by a burst of cheering, and then by the appearance of a couple of figures in the stern. One was the sailor, and at once he took possession of the helm.
"She'll steer within the minute," he called out huskily. "Get those poles over her bows and push her round. Skurry, lads, or we'll be too late!"
"The rascals! They have hoisted sail, and will be able to make rings round us," cried Mr. Blunt. "I fear that they have now an enormous advantage."
That this was the case could not be denied, for as the trio looked over the rail at the banks of the river, occasionally to be seen dimly, they found that they themselves were floating slowly on the current, swinging round and round, while within but a few yards of them, and quickly coming under sail, was the pursuing boat, on the rails of which hung the gang of outlaws, ready to commence the attack at the very first moment. In rear of them was a river craft manned by more of the gang, who were pulling lustily so as to come up in time to take their share in the unequal contest. The situation was indeed critical again, and there is little wonder that the trio aboard the drifting craft found it hard to decide how to act under the circumstances, and looked about them desperately for a way of escape.
"We are cornered, I fear," said Mr. Blunt as soon as he had fully realized what was happening, and that the enemy were now following swiftly, their big river boat under sail, and part of their gang in a craft which they propelled with oars, "unless we also could hoist a little canvas. But I fear that that is out of the question, for the sail is a big one."
Then they went to the mast, to find the yard and sail extremely heavy, while in the darkness it was almost impossible to find the hoisting gear. However, the knowledge that something must be done if they wished to escape spurred them on to make an effort, and after a little fumbling in the dark they managed to hoist a few feet of the sail, and even to get some way on the boat.
"Do as they did," sang out Mr. Blunt. "Push her head round, while I go to the tiller. Once we are under way, stand ready with one of the poles to push them off if they get too near. One can use the pole while the other stands over him with his revolver. And remember to shoot swiftly. The man who can draw trigger first on occasions like this stands the best chance of coming alive out of the struggle. Ah, I see them again! I wish this boat would swing a little more quickly."
There was a note of anxiety in his voice, for the minutes were passing rapidly, and though their own sail had now been hoisted for quite two minutes the boat had not yet swung round with her bow down stream. As for the enemy, the vessel on which they were was already well under way; but she still had to make up the distance which she had previously lost, and which had steadily increased as the stream bore Dudley and his friends along. For a time she had been lost to view in the darkness, and only the shouts of the rascals on her deck showed where she was, while the answering calls of the gang in the small boat, and the splash of their paddles, told that they too were already dangerously near. Dudley stood in the stern of the boat listening intently to the splashes and the calls, and then leaving his comrades for a moment went carefully along the deck on hands and knees, searching for something with his fingers.
"If that small boat comes alongside she will be more difficult to deal with than the other," he thought. "Those rascals will hang on till some are on board, and we shall be kept so busy that we shall not be able to deal with their friends. I remember a coil of rope which lay amongst our stores. I fancy it is heavy enough for my purpose."
The numerous articles which Mr. Blunt had purchased in Buenos Ayres had been loaded into the hold of the vessel, and some had also been placed a little forward of the mast. There were many coils of rope and wire in these stores, and at this moment Dudley thought of them. He soon reached the spot where he remembered he had seen them placed, and fumbled in the darkness with his fingers till he lit upon one of the coils of rope. It was closely wound, and consisted of inch cable, which was securely lashed into a coil. Standing over it, he lifted it to his shoulder with an effort and bore it aft, staggering under the weight. A second or more later he had tumbled it on to the deck with a bang.
"For the gentlemen in the small boat if they happen to wish to pay us a visit," he said significantly. "If I can make a good shot with this coil I think there will be little boat left. Now for the other vessel. Is she in sight?"
"In sight, and almost within striking distance," answered Harold promptly, for he had sprung on to the rail of the ship and had been peering eagerly into the darkness. "She is coming up on our left. Look there! You can see a big black mass, fifteen feet behind us, perhaps."
The report was only too true, and before long Dudley himself could see the bow of the vessel, and even thought he detected a couple of figures standing there. If he had had any doubt, their sudden calls to their comrades proved their presence beyond contradiction. Indeed, two of the gaucho ruffians were standing as far forward as they could get, and as Dudley watched them they called loudly, their shouts bringing their comrades running along the deck to join them.
"Within a little way, comrades," said one of the rascals, as he drew his weapon, "and if this darkness does not make a fool of me I can see one of the fellows at the tiller. This will soon show if it is a man or a shadow. I'll wager that I make a hit."
He coolly presented his revolver at the figure of Mr. Blunt, which could be dimly seen at that distance, and he pulled the trigger gently. There was a loud report at once, a report which went echoing down the river, and brought a cheer from the men rowing the smaller boat. A spout of flame shot from the muzzle, and a ball hissed across the narrow space, missed Mr. Blunt by the smallest interval, and, flying on, struck Harold Joyce on the tip of the shoulder, penetrating the muscle and emerging on the other side. A sharp cry escaped the lad, which was drowned instantly by the report of Dudley's weapon, and by a rattling volley which came from the pursuers, for the flash had lit up the scene and shown the three figures standing in the stern of the boat which they were following. However, their bullets flew wide of the mark, while the flash which had enabled them to fire proved of advantage to Dudley and his friends also. Dudley had been watching the dim figures aboard the pursuing boat, and hardly had the report of the first pistol shot died down when his own weapon cracked sharply, and the man who had fired dropped like a stone, a bullet having struck him in the very centre of the forehead.
"Two to us and one to them, I think," said Mr. Blunt cheerily. "That was a quick shot, Dudley, and will teach them caution perhaps. Now, my lad, I think you were hit. Not badly I hope."
"It is nothing, sir," came the ready answer, for once he had recovered from the first shock of the wound Harold Joyce had determined to make little of it. His old fears were forgotten and to tell the truth the lad was rather enjoying this brush with his late companions. There was now no thought of danger, only a feeling of huge relief, for had he not unburdened himself, and obtained the forgiveness of his old comrade? And with that feeling of relief was a curious and altogether novel sense of elation. He felt wonderfully cool and steady, and seeing that Dudley and Mr. Blunt were precisely the same, he took heart from that and vowed quietly to himself that if he came out of this his first engagement alive he would also emerge from it with credit to himself. And then, to think what joy it would be to him, to Harold Joyce, to know that he had done well, to feel that he had acted a man's part, had behaved like a man, he who till a few minutes before had hardly dared look an honest fellow in the face. He had not forgotten his old behavior, his despicable crime, and the cowardice and treachery to a friend which he had shown. He would never forget that as long as he lived perhaps, for it would help him to make amends, to live in the future so that no one could point the finger of scorn at him. Now was his opportunity, and he seized upon it eagerly.
"Just a little blow on the shoulder, sir," he said easily. "It is merely a pinprick, and only reminds me that they have revolvers. I owe them something, and mean to repay it. I'll try a shot."
Up till then he had not drawn trigger, but now he coolly stepped on to the rail again, peered at the black shape surging up astern, and then took a snap shot, sending a leaden messenger crashing into the middle of the group of rascals, and bringing a shout of pain from one of them. A second later Mr. Blunt had dragged him down under the rail again.
"Number three!" he said with an exclamation of pleasure. "You are doing well, Joyce. But you must not be foolhardy. Remember that the flash of your pistol gives them a chance, for it shows up your figure. They missed you by the purest chance."
Indeed the flash of his weapon had been the signal for another rattling volley from the enemy, the bullets singing over the heads of the trio, and sweeping away into the space beyond. As for the man who had been struck, he went crawling aft on hands and knees, groaning as he went.
"Within ten feet I should say," said Dudley suddenly, "and the fellow who is steering the vessel is sweeping her bow over towards us. It is nearly time to put out our pole. What are we to do supposing they grapple with us and get aboard?"
It was a difficult question to decide, and for some few seconds there was silence while the three peered away astern at the pursuers, who were steadily coming up, while Mr. Blunt cast an anxious glance ahead. The boat which he steered was now heading directly down stream, and had increased her pace. But she was showing only a little canvas, while the enemy had their sail hoisted to its full height. That the gang of ruffians would overhaul them was perfectly clear; within five minutes they would be surging alongside, with their rail grating against that of the vessel which they were pursuing.
"It is hard to say what we ought to do," he answered slowly. "They are sure to come up with us, and equally sure to lash their rail to ours. They know that we are here, and will come tumbling aboard and make a rush into the stern. Let us consider how many we shall have to meet."
"That is soon answered," spoke out Harold boldly. "We have hit three. Six are left. Just two to one. Why not change our places, sir? If we crept forward as they came alongside, they would find the stern vacated when they climbed aboard."
"But they would find us in the end," interrupted Dudley. "Why not try another trick? We can creep forward, as Harold suggests, and then get aboard their boat as they board us. A cut with a knife then would alter matters. We should be able to sail away, and——"
"A pretty plan, and one which we will carry out if we have the chance," cried Mr. Blunt. "It is quite certain that if we stay here they will prove too strong for us. We must make the utmost use of the darkness, and it is agreed therefore that we go forward, conceal ourselves under the rail, and as soon as they are on board clamber across to their deck and cut the ropes, for they are sure to lash the two craft together. I will make my way forward, while you will take the rope aft, Dudley. That is agreed. Then I think we will take up our places at once. They are already very near, and I reckon that within a minute they will be alongside. Slip off one by one. Joyce, lead the way please, and remember, there must be silence. We slip aboard, cut the lashings, and make off. I will take the tiller."
It was high time indeed that they should make some arrangement, for, as Mr. Blunt had said, the enemy were even then within striking distance. The ruffianly sailor who controlled the vessel on which the gang were pursuing was a man who knew his business and had steered a course on many an occasion. More than that, the fellow had the eyes of a cat, for he seemed to be able to make out the outline of the boat ahead in spite of the darkness, and indeed, by sitting on the deck, and getting his head as low as possible, had for some while been able to discern the mast of the fugitive boat against the stars above. He knew now that his bow was in a line with the stern of the other vessel, and with the knowledge that he was overhauling her very rapidly he moved his tiller just a little and sent his own craft swirling closer, so that her rail would touch that of the one in front.
"In a minute, comrades!" he sang out in execrable Portuguese. "I am running alongside. One of you take a rope forward and lash the rails as soon as they meet. I will see to the job being done aft here."
A call told him that his comrades understood, and once more the ruffian put his helm over. The ships touched a moment or two later, and by then the bow of the pursuer was half-way along the side of the boat on which Dudley and his friends crouched. A minute later the boats were sailing on a dead level, and the time had come to lash them together. The sailor promptly left his tiller, and, snatching a length of rope which he had placed at his feet, sprang at the rail, while those who were forward carried out their part of the task as rapidly as possible. A shout told that they were ready, and within an instant the sailor had left the stern and had run forward to meet them.
"We have them at last, the dogs," he shouted. "They were in the stern. Follow! Cut the lubbers to pieces."
He led the way on to the deck of the other vessel, and close behind him came his comrades, all revolver in hand, eager to be the first to shoot down the three who had stood in the stern, and who had shot their leader and two others of their number. They went rushing along the deck, the sailor emptying his weapon as he ran, for he took the gaunt outline of the mast for one of the men he sought.
"Our time to move," whispered Mr. Blunt. "Remember, I go forward, while Dudley takes the rope aft. I'll be with you in a moment."
As silent as ghosts, and as active as cats, the three slipped over the rails on to the other vessel, where Mr. Blunt went on hands and knees and with wonderful agility slid and scrambled along the deck. As for Dudley, he ran aft, keeping his hand all the while on the rail, and did not stop till it had struck upon the rope which the sailor had placed in position. With a slash he severed it, and then went to the tiller, there to wait for his leader. As for Harold Joyce, he stood on the deck opposite the point where he had clambered aboard, and, crouching under the shelter of the rail, waited, prepared to protect Mr. Blunt with his revolver.
Meanwhile those who had swarmed aboard the boat which they had been so feverishly following were at a loss to understand what had happened.
The sailor had quickly discovered that he had made an error in firing at the mast, and as by then he was within sight of the stern, he came to a sudden halt, and sheltered his body behind the big mass of timber.
"Shoot when you see them," he shouted. "They must be lying on the deck. Give them a volley, comrades."
It was one of the gauchos who made the gang aware of the fact that the stern was empty. He peered into the darkness for a moment, and then rushed aft till he came to the rail, his revolver held in readiness in case his eyes should have deceived him.
"Not here!" he called angrily. "This is where we saw them when the last shot was fired. They must have gone forward, or have dived into the cabin. After them! We will riddle them with bullets once we come upon them. Ah, peste take the man who fired then! Be careful with your weapons."
He turned savagely upon one of the gang, who, thinking he saw a figure beside the rail a little for'ard of the stern drew trigger on it, sending a bullet dangerously near his comrade. Then, joining the sailor, this gaucho led the way forward, this time at a slower pace, searching every foot of the deck.
"Empty!" exclaimed the sailor with an oath. "Then they have gone into the cabin, and we shall have a pretty business to get them out. What's best to be done?"
He turned on those who followed him, forgetful of the fact that none knew English. But they seemed to guess at his meaning, for the gaucho promptly led the way back to the cabin.
"An ugly place to search," he admitted as he made out the outline of the roof of the saloon which Dudley and Mr. Blunt had occupied, and came to a halt at the short flight of stairs leading down to it. "A man does not care to dive into a dark hole like that and be shot down like a dog. The fellows are skulking behind the door, and will see us before we can catch sight of them. What's to be done? Coop them up below and wait till morning seems the best way out of the difficulty."
"And have a hundred busybodies asking what the noise is about, and why we are so carefully shooting white men on the river," shouted the man at his elbow, pushing him aside indignantly. "What has to be done must be done now. I'm going into the cabin."
As if to let the occupants of the tiny place know that he was coming, the ruffian emptied four of the cartridges in his revolver into the door of the cabin, sending the bullets ripping through the wood, and thudding heavily against the bulkhead beyond. Then, quickly following his messengers, he leaped to the bottom of the stairway and burst into the saloon.
"Empty!" he shouted a moment or two later. "Not a soul in here. Where are the pretty birds?"
Where indeed? The members of the gang raced up and down the deck, searching vainly for the men they wanted, and never even suspecting the trick which had been played upon them. It was not till they had felt in every corner, and come very near to shooting one another in the confusion caused by their haste and the darkness, that it slowly dawned upon their minds that the birds had flown. Then they looked for the ship on which they had taken passage, and which they had slipped from her moorings not ten minutes before, and were struck dumb with astonishment to find that she was already some ten feet from them, and hardly discernible in the darkness. Indeed it is probable that they would not even now have suspected what had really happened had it not been for a sudden commotion close at hand. They had entirely forgotten the noisy comrades who had gone ashore, and who had since embarked on a small boat. Even Mr. Blunt and his two stanch young friends had allowed the existence of this other gang to slip their memory, for their hands were very full. They had carried out their scheme in absolute silence and with wonderful celerity. They had severed the ropes, and then with a whispered word to one another had placed themselves along the rail of the captured vessel, and, keeping as low as possible, had pushed the two boats apart. Not till then had Mr. Blunt taken his station at the tiller. He looked aloft, felt the river vessel cant as the wind filled her sail, and then pushed at his tiller.
"In a moment we shall have said good-by," he whispered. "Listen to the rascals! They will be angry when we are gone. Ah! Those other fellows! They are just beside us."
Both heard the splash of oars, and then the loud calls of the men in the rowing boat. They had come up with their comrades, as they thought, and when Dudley looked over the stern rail there they were, alongside, and getting to their feet so as to climb aboard. He lifted his revolver and was on the point of firing when Mr. Blunt arrested the shot.
"Don't shoot," he whispered swiftly. "They do not know what has happened, and their fellows aboard our boat are also in ignorance. Get along the deck and find something heavy, like the coil you prepared before."
A word was enough, and within a second Dudley was running along the deck, bent double as he went. And fortunate it was for him and his friends that he was one of those lads who take in his surroundings somewhat more thoroughly perhaps than do average people. Everything that was novel interested him, and a ship had always been a fascinating subject to Dudley. He had made himself acquainted with every corner and hole of the river boat on which he and his employer had sailed from Buenos Ayres, as well as that upon which they had descended the river, and in both cases he had noted the fact that the vessels carried a spare anchor hooked to the rail in the bow. The memory of that spare anchor flashed across his mind, and at once he ran up into the bow, making no attempt to search for another object on the way. It was there. His fingers gripped the heavy piece of metal, and with a jerk he hoisted it from the grips which held it in place. Then he returned at a run, arriving breathless at the stern.
"That should do," said Mr. Blunt. "Take the tiller, and look out for shots. I'll do my best to teach those employees of mine a little lesson in honesty. Perhaps in future they will not take service with a man with the express intention of robbing and murdering him."
He leaned over the rail, the anchor poised over his shoulder, and glanced down at the men in the boat alongside. They were calling angrily to one another, for their evening ashore, and the darkness of the night, had led to no little confusion. Each man wished to be the first to climb aboard the vessel, while none were directed to cling to the rail. And in consequence it happened that no sooner did the majority of them rise to their feet than the boat slipped away from the side of the one they wished to board, and they were forced to paddle again to come up with her.
"Keep quiet there!" shouted one of their number. "Hold on there in the bow, while I get a grip here. Then clamber aboard one by one. Hi, comrade, throw us a rope!"
He had caught sight of Mr. Blunt's figure, and stood up to catch the expected rope. But it was a very different missile which descended at his feet. Mr. Blunt was not the man to muddle an affair like this by missing his aim. He leaned well over the rail, poised the anchor above his head, and then threw it down into the boat with all the force of which he was capable. There was a sickening thump as it struck one of the rascals, and this was followed instantly by the crash of splintering woodwork, and then by a babel of sounds, oaths, threats, and cries of fear. A shot was fired, while one of the more active of the men, realizing what had happened, made a desperate leap at the rail, and hung to it for a moment. But it was for only a brief moment, for again a pistol sounded, the sharp report drowning the shouts of the men below. The man dropped into the water like a stone, leaving Mr. Blunt staring down at the place which his figure had occupied. Then it was the turn of the rascals aboard the other boat.
"Let them shout," said Mr. Blunt calmly. "They are beaten, hopelessly beaten, for we have the legs of them now. Keep down, lads, for it would be sad to be hit now that the affair is almost over. That is, over for us. For these rascals, I promise you and them that it is by no means over. I will probe this matter to the bottom. Whatever it costs I will discover who is the ringleader, the scoundrel who sits quietly down at Montevideo and incites men to make an attack upon me, and I will do my utmost to punish these brigands for their work to-night. Ah, there go the pistols! Shoot till you are tired, my friends."
A furious volley came from the men aboard the boat which Dudley and his friends had so recently left, and for a minute the shooting continued till darkness and the increasing interval between the vessels had separated the combatants. As for those who had manned the smaller boat, into which the anchor had been cast, their shouts were soon drowned by the river. For the heavy piece of iron had beaten a hole in the bottom of the craft, and in a little while she had filled to the gunwale. Indeed, while those aboard the ship now being left behind were emptying their revolvers, their luckless comrades were struggling for life in the water. More than one of the wretches sank almost at once, while but two managed to reach the safety of the bank and scramble ashore. The tables had been turned, in fact. The rascally attackers, who had been in such great force, and who had hoped to take advantage of the Englishman, and secure his money, had been badly beaten. They had lost many from their gang, and, worse perhaps for those who remained—for such desperadoes think little of losses,—they had failed in their enterprise.
The cheer which the trio aboard the escaping vessel gave as they sailed away must have been maddening to the ruffians.
"That will tell them that we are alive and well," said Mr. Blunt. "Later we will do more to prove the fact. And now that we are under way, and have some breath to spare, let me say how grateful I am to this young gentleman. Shake hands, Mr. Joyce! Your gallantry has saved our lives. Dudley Compton and I are your debtors."
Each in turn took the blushing Harold by the hand and gripped his fingers warmly. This was his reward for acting the man, and for the resolution and courage which he had shown in the matter.
Great indeed was the happiness of the trio who had made such an eventful escape from the gang who had attacked them. As they stood in the stern of their captured vessel, listening for a time to the shouts of rage which followed them, and the occasional pistol shots which echoed down the river, each of the three was deeply grateful for what had been a most lucky escape, and Dudley and Mr. Blunt in particular felt that they were specially fortunate.
"We can never hope for such luck again," said Mr. Blunt, as he stood, tiller in hand. "Those rascals would have murdered us as we lay in the cabin had it not been for the warning we received. Come, Mr. Joyce, tell us the whole tale again, and how it came about that you were in this country, and took passage with those men."
Thus encouraged to speak out, Harold sat on the edge of the rail, and for some ten minutes described all that had happened. Nor did he neglect to commence from the very beginning, for as yet his story had come to the ears of his two listeners in scraps only, interrupted by the shouts of the enemy. Manfully, therefore, with no attempt to gloss over the painful incident which had been the commencement of all his troubles, and of Dudley's, he told how he had stood aside and seen Dudley suffer, how remorse had promptly attacked him, and how he had made a clean breast of his fault at home, and then, with the consent and encouragement of his father and mother, had come out to Montevideo to find Dudley. His listeners knew in what manner the strange meeting had been brought about, but they were not aware of the fact that Harold had arrived in Montevideo to hear that Mr. Bradshaw, to whom Dudley had been sent out, was dead, and that there was no trace of the lad he sought; he had disappeared.
Those were days when mails travelled from South America often enough by sailing vessels, for there were very few steamers, and it happened that the letter which Dudley had written on his arrival in the country, to his guardian, had reached home after Harold had set out. Thus it was that the lad found himself seriously embarrassed at the first stage of his journey.
"I could hear nothing of Dudley," he said, "and so, after idling for a few days, I came, on the advice of a rancher, up into this district. It was a piece of pure bad luck taking passage with such a gang."
"Your pardon! It was a piece of amazing good fortune," contradicted Mr. Blunt. "For us, I mean, of course; for, lad, had you not come up with those fellows, had that rascally English sailor not been one of them, and, above all, had you not had the courage and resolution to do as you did, your old comrade and I would not be here now. No, no more, Harold! Dudley and I will listen to no more from you. We know the whole story, and it is clear to us what has happened. Lad, there are many people who get out of line, who do mean and contemptible tricks. I am not attempting to excuse your faults, let me tell you, but, as I say, many people sin, and go on sinning. You have learned a lesson from this fault. You have turned over a new leaf, and as a man who prides himself on his knowledge of human nature, I say definitely, without fear of contradiction, that the lad who can make up for his fault as you have done, who can face the angry friends of the late captain of the school, wrongfully accused, who can declare his own guilt to his parents, and then, not content, can follow out here, covering so many miles, with the one purpose of meeting that old friend and asking his forgiveness, is one who has good in him. You have behaved nobly, Harold. From this moment Dudley and I are your fast friends. We will prove it if you wish. Come with us to the estancia and see the life of the gauchos. You shall have a post under my manager, and pay in proportion. There, lad, it's a real pleasure to meet you."
The tall, kindly owner of the estancia stretched out one hand and gripped Harold's. Mr. Blunt was a sympathetic man who seemed to be able to dip under the surface, to read the thoughts and feelings of those with whom he came in contact. There was some magnetic attraction about him which drew young fellows to him, which made him their friend almost from the first moment, and led them to confide in him, just as Dudley had done so soon after their chance meeting. Was it extraordinary, therefore, if Harold Joyce fell under the same spell? These were some of the first really kind words he had heard for many a day. The lad was deliriously happy. His troubles had been sliding rapidly from his shoulders, and in an hour, it seemed, he had regained his old friend, and had won another. He gripped the extended hand, shook it eagerly, and then burst into tears, tears which he stifled in an instant.
"I came out here to be a man, to act like one if possible, and to show that I was not altogether bad," he said, steadying his voice. "If you and Dud will have me, why——"
"You'll come, old chap," chimed in Dudley.
"I will. It will be ripping."
"Then that is settled," said Mr. Blunt. "Now I think it is high time we discussed some other matter. We seem to have forgotten that we are sailing down the Paraná in a strange vessel. The question is, shall we drop anchor and wait till morning, or shall we carry on down to Buenos Ayres?"
"The question is settled already," burst in Dudley, "for we cannot anchor if we wish to do so. You forget that the gang who attacked us cut their cable when we were escaping, and that you yourself tossed the spare anchor into the boat which came alongside. So far as I can see there is nothing to be done but to carry on till morning."
As it happened, however, the voyage downstream which the trio had been compelled to make was shortly afterwards brought to a sudden conclusion. It was densely dark, and in consequence steering was impossible, for it was seldom that Mr. Blunt caught a glimpse of the banks. Indeed, some few minutes later the boat grounded upon a bank of mud, coming to a standstill so gently that those aboard were hardly aware of the circumstances.
"The difficulty vanishes," laughed Mr. Blunt, when all were sure of what had occurred. "We may just as well make ourselves comfortable for the remainder of the night, for we are fast ashore. I don't think we need fear a second attack from our enemies, for they are far behind us, and if they venture to follow will probably run past us without even seeing our spars. But I fancy they will be too busy looking to their own safety. They know very well that I shall take steps to have a search made for them, though it is little enough that one can expect from such action. Still, there are police down at Buenos Ayres, and some also at the settlements lying between us and that city. I shall make complaints, and try to stir the authorities up to some sort of action. But I fear little will come of it, for the cities and settlements are too busy to spare men for police duties, as a rule, while the country is so vast, there are such numbers of unregistered foreigners in it, that arrest of evildoers becomes a rare occurrence. Still, I will make my complaints, and will then return to the estancia. For the next few months I will devote myself to the building of forts, for I know now that the rascal who has on former occasions caused attacks to be made on me is still in the country. He will not rest after this. There are a hundred cut-throats to be had in the ports of Montevideo and Buenos Ayres, broken down gauchos and other ruffians. We must make preparation to meet them in case a second band is organized. And now for a sleep. As I said, there is practically no fear of interruption, for now that those rascals have failed they will be eager to make good their escape."
Feeling secure against further attack, and having assured themselves that their vessel was hard and fast on the mud, the trio lowered the sail and stepped down into the cabin so lately occupied by the Italian and his rascals. The door had been left wide open, and as a consequence the pokey little place had been thoroughly aired. However, when the lamp had been set alight, the feeble illumination it gave showed to some extent the character of its late inhabitants. Tin pannikins, some half-filled with spirit and water, still lay on the table, while the stone jar had rolled on to the floor, where it had smashed into a hundred pieces, scattering them and what little was left of the contents all over the cabin. Dudley at once took a broom, which he found on the deck, and swept the boards clean. Then some sacking was procured, and within a little while all were fast asleep, Harold hugging himself closely in some sacking; for the night had been a little cool, and his soaking garments had not conduced to warmth.
A brilliant sun greeted the trio as they came on deck on the following morning.
"As I thought," said Mr. Blunt in tones of satisfaction. "We are ashore on the mud, and should be able to push the vessel off with poles. No damage has been done to our craft, and we shall soon have an opportunity of acting as navigators. But what about some breakfast? Come, Harold, you shall be our cook to-day, and Dudley shall supervise your work. He is a practised hand after his life on the pampas."
The two young fellows ran off to see what the ship's larder contained, and very soon a column of black smoke was rising from the funnel which protruded from the galley. As for Mr. Blunt, while he waited the results of his two young friends' efforts, he carefully surveyed his surroundings, and was overjoyed to see, a mile or more up the river, and almost wholly out of sight round a gentle bend, the boat which he and Dudley had chartered.
"Then I feel fairly sure of obtaining my goods again," he said, as he watched the craft. "I see no one moving aboard her, and as she, too, has run ashore, I fancy the rascals who were aboard her have decamped. But they shall hear from me later, and in the meanwhile I have a bone to pick with the crew of both vessels. It seems to me that they must have known of this proposed attack, and have absented themselves purposely."
This was, indeed, the fact, for unknown to him the crew of the boat he had chartered had slipped ashore across the gangway soon after the hands he had hired had made their way to the saloons; while the men who manned the boat on which he found himself now had dropped into their small boat and followed the same plan.
It was in the dinghy which they had used to get ashore that his own hands had put out into the river in order to join their accomplices.
"Breakfast!" shouted Dudley, appearing at the door of the galley in his shirt sleeves, and bearing a smoking pan in his hands. "Now, Harold, pass Mr. Blunt the bill of fare and get into the cabin to lay the cloth. We shall want forks and knives."
Harold Joyce, his face radiant, a merry smile on his lips, issued on to the deck, slate in hand, and ran to Mr. Blunt. A disreputable-looking object he appeared, too, for he had merely a shirt, socks, and overall trousers to clothe him, and they were by no means improved by his immersion during the night.
"Fish first, sir?" he cried, as he pushed his slate before Mr. Blunt and pointed to the letters scrawled in chalk. "We found a good supply, which was quite fresh. Then we come to eggs, poached or boiled, sir?"
"'Pon my word, trust youngsters to look after a meal!" laughed the owner of the estancia. "And what a feast it is, to be sure! Fish, eggs, toast and coffee! A bill of fare fit for a king! Boiled, please, Harold, and if there is a good supply I can manage two. By the way, lad, what about that wound? I had forgotten it entirely, for you have not even mentioned it."
Harold flushed to his eyes again. "It's nothing at all," he said hastily. "It did not even keep me awake. However, you may see it if you wish."
His shirt was all stained with blood about one shoulder. Mr. Blunt therefore at once helped him to slip the garment off. Then he examined the wound critically; living as he did miles away from a settlement, he had in course of time become quite accomplished in the art of treating hurts, for the gauchos often came to grief.
"I should not make so little of it as you do," he said with one of his friendly smiles. "However, the ball has done no great damage. It struck the very edge, slipped under the skin, and flew out again. The wound is little more than skin deep, it is true, but none the less painful. As soon as we get back to our own vessel I will dress it, for I have nothing with me here. Now let us have that breakfast; I admit that I have a huge appetite."
It was a merry party which sat down in the tiny cabin below, and the jollity of the trio was not a little due to the good fare placed before them. Dudley had long since had lessons in camp cooking from Pietro and the other gauchos, and could poach an egg so well that even the most delicate appetite would be tempted by it. He was an expert in the manufacture of steaming coffee, and with Harold's help had produced an excellent repast.
"It was my first experience of cooking," laughed Harold, as he tackled a piece of fish, "and I confess I like the work. It interests me, and I shall devote heaps of time to it. Then I mean to learn how to ride these American horses, and how to shoot. Dud has been telling me something about it all, and I am sure I shall enjoy the life of the rancho."
"Take your lessons from him, then," answered Mr. Blunt. "He can shoot, as even the gauchos admit, and they are very grudging with their praise in that respect. He has a good seat in the saddle, and above all he knows how to work with the men. That is a great secret. The manager, the officer, even the proprietor of a business, who has a way with his men, who studies their comfort, respects them, and gains their sympathy, while at the same time insisting on obedience, gains as well their respect. You must make that your aim, lad. Show the men that you can ride and shoot, that you are not afraid even of Indians, and then they will be friends of yours. That reminds me; there are Indians near the rancho. You will have to expect sudden raids, and there is not the slightest doubt that now we who live on the rancho shall carry our lives in our hands. Now, does that deter you?"
Harold shook his head vigorously.
"If you and Dudley are there, that is good enough for me," he answered briskly. "I shall do my best to share in the fighting if the Indians come. But tell me more about them, please. Dudley mentioned something about a raid which was made quite recently."
As they discussed the meal Mr. Blunt outlined their doings on the rancho since he and Dudley had arrived from England, and did not fail to give due praise to his young manager. The tale opened Harold Joyce's eyes very wide indeed, and after that he looked at his old friend with increasing admiration, and swore once again that his old captain should be his model for the future.
"Now for work," said Mr. Blunt, when all the good things had disappeared. "We will hoist the sail first of all, and then push the vessel off the mud. There is a fine fresh breeze blowing upstream, and that should help us along wonderfully."
"What will happen when we get opposite the port again?" asked Dudley. "We have no anchor, and if we drop our sail we shall soon drift downstream again."
"There is a simple way out of the difficulty," was the prompt answer. "I will run her ashore on a soft spot as near the port as possible. Then I will go to the port authorities, make my complaints, and hire a boat and a couple of men to take us down to our own vessel."
They laid hold of the tackle at once, and by dint of much hauling finally got their sail up. Then the wind helped them more than they had expected, for, filling the sail at once, it drove them off the mud out into the middle of the stream. A little movement of the tiller brought the bow into the right direction, and very soon they were bowling along towards their destination. Indeed, in an hour they were opposite the port, which consisted of an official residence and office, a few private houses, and the odious saloons. There was a patch of soft mud just above the wharf, and Mr. Blunt calmly ran the vessel ashore there, dropping the sail when she was securely embedded. An hour later he and his young friends were aboard their own boat.