The sharp eyes of Coyote Pete were not long in discovering the cause of the startling interruption to the adulation of Maud.
Through a clump of brush some distance above the trail, a strange, wild face was peering at them. Yet, despite its tangle of beard, and the battered hat which crowned its tangled locks, the countenance was a kindly one, and there was friendliness in its blue eyes. Above all, it was the face of an American. Pete, and Jack, too, for that matter, would have thrown themselves rejoicingly on the neck of the most disreputable of their countrymen, if they had happened to meet him at that moment.
"Traveling?" inquired the stranger, coming out from his concealment and disclosing a well-knit body dressed in plainsman's garb. The buttof a revolver glinted suggestively on his left thigh.
"Reckon so," rejoined Pete.
"Whar frum?"
"South."
"Whar to?"
"North."
"Ain't very communicative, be yer, stranger?"
"Wa'al, you see, we ain't had a regular introduction," rejoined Pete, with range humor, a grin spreading over his countenance.
"My name's Jim Hicks; I'm prospecting up through this yer God-forsaken place."
"Mine's Peter Aloysius Archibald De Peyster," rejoined Coyote Pete, and, although he then gasped in amazement, Jack was later to learn that this was the redoubtable cow-puncher's real name. In fact, he had had more than one fight on account of it.
"Don't laugh," he warned.
"Not a snicker," was the reply, "but that sure is a fancy name, stranger. Sounds like a Christmas tree, all lights, and tinsel, and glitter."
"Humph," rejoined the cow-puncher, glancingsharply at the other, but, perceiving no sign of amusement on that leathern countenance, he went on, "and this is my young friend, Jack Merrill, the son of Merrill, the cattle-man."
"Say," burst out Jack, who had been doing some thinking, "are you J. H.?"
"That is my usual initials," rejoined the prospector, bending a keen glance on the boy.
"Ho—ho—ho!" laughed Pete, "I reckon we crossed your trail to-day. Did you mislay a wash-pan?"
"Why, yep," rejoined the other, a rather embarrassed look coming over his face, and a bit of red creeping up under the tan, "you see, I was camped down the trail last night, when the all-firedest thing happened that I ever bumped into."
"What was it?" asked Jack mischievously, scenting here an explanation of the occurrences of the night.
"Why, I was sound asleep down by the creek, when, all of a sudden, I hear'n a fearful racket above me. I looked up and I seen a devil with red eyes and a blue tail, all surrounded by blue fire, coming toward me, and——"
"Hold on, stranger—wait a minute. I ain't through yit. Wa'al, sir, I out with my pepper box and let fly, but the critter, whatever it was, jes' giv' the awfulest laugh I ever heard, and vanished in a cloud of blue smoke."
"Ha! Ha! Ha!" laughed Jack, while Pete joined in the merriment, holding his sides.
The prospector looked at them suspiciously.
"Why—why—why," gasped Pete, "barrin' the red fire and the trimmings, I reckon your devil was jes' our old mule, Maud."
"That onery, one-eared critter yonder!" yelled the prospector, "that perambulating, four-legged accumulation of cats'-meat scare me out of two years' growth! Stan' aside, strangers——"
"Why, what are you going to do?" exclaimed Jack in a somewhat alarmed tone, as the prospector's hand flew to his six-shooter.
"Jes' ventilate the promiscuous disposition of that animal of your'n, stranger."
As he spoke, he coolly raised his pistol, preparatory to sweeping it down and firing point-blank at poor Maud. But Coyote Pete was on him with a wild yell.
"Here, here, none of that in this camp, stranger," he bellowed, as his mighty arms bore the astonished prospector to the ground, and they rolled over and over; "ef you've got any nuggets lyin' loose you don't want, give 'em to us to decorate that noble creature, but you'll shoot me afore you shoot Maud."
As for Jack, after his first alarm, all he could do was to roar with laughter at the two big Westerners rolling about on the ground, and filling the air with vigorous expletives.
"Here, here, get up," he cried at length. "Aren't you ashamed of yourselves?"
The two stopped their struggle for a moment and scrambled to their feet.
"I'll take back my remarks about your mule," said the prospector, apparently unruffled by the sudden strenuous interlude.
"And I'll withdraw my objection to you on account of that bullet you fired at us last night," said Pete solemnly.
"Accepted," said the ranger with equal gravity, "and now, if you two fellers feels like scoffin'——"
"Scoffing?" said Jack. "I thought we'd had enough of that."
"He means eating," chuckled Pete. "What a question to ask!"
"Wa'al, then, I'm camped about a quarter of a mile frum here, and will be glad to have your company. I come down to find out what was the matter, when I hear'n that mule critter of yours a-singin' once more. Glad to have met congenial company."
"We'll have to bring the mule," said Jack.
"All right. So long as she don't fight with my outfit, I've no objection," rejoined the prospector; "but come on, or that rabbit stew will be getting burned."
"Rabbit stew!" exclaimed Coyote Pete. "Oh, I never thought to hear them words again."
Rapidly they retraced their steps, leading Maud by her hitching rope. Soon they reached a small branch path, which they had not noticed on their way up. It led back into the brush where Jim Hicks, it appeared, had camped. As they neared it, a savory odor of rabbit stew became apparent. Pete sniffed ecstatically.
"Say, stranger," he asked in a trembling voice, "is they—is they onions in that stew, or does my nose deceive me?"
"Mr. De Peyster," rejoined the prospector, "your organ of smelling is kerrict, sir. There is four of the finest Bermudas obtainable in that rabbit stew."
"Hold me," murmured Pete to Jack, a sudden look of lassitude coming over his weather-beaten face.
"Why, why, what's the matter?" exclaimed Jack in some real alarm.
"I—I think I'm going to faint, and I forgot to bring my smellin' salts," grinned Pete, favoring the boy with a portentous wink.
The formality of the West did not permit Jim Hicks to ask any questions of his guests. In fact, in that section of the country such a procedure would have been adjudged a terrible breach of good manners. On the border every man's business is his own, and no questions asked.
When, however, three or more helpings of rabbit stew had become a part of Coyote Pete, andan equal number was being assimilated into the person of Jack Merrill, the cow-puncher took advantage of the temporary absence of Jim Hicks—who had gone to see after his ponies—to ask Jack if he thought it wise to tell the prospector some of their story.
"I certainly do," replied Jack. "He is a queer character, certainly, but under all his peculiarities he seems to be shrewd and kindly."
"That's what I think, too," agreed Pete. "He may be able to help us."
After Coyote Pete and Jim Hicks had their pipes lighted, therefore, for the prospector carried a good supply of "Lone Jack," Coyote Pete began. The prospector listened with many exclamations of surprise to their story, till they reached the part concerning the old Mission of San Gabriel. Then he jumped to his feet, and, dashing his pipe to the ground, applied a few vigorous epithets to Black Ramon and his gang.
"That's the bunch of coyotes that drove me out of there just as I was about to make my fortune," he cried.
"Drove you out of there?"
"Make yer fortune?" cried his two puzzled listeners.
"Yep; listen," and Jim Hicks told them substantially the story, which we have already perused in his notebook, so providentially delivered into the hands of the prisoners of the old church. The man who willed it to him was a dying recluse he had aided.
"And there the book is, written in with onion juice stuffed in a cranny of the wall for any one's finding and nobody's reading," chuckled the prospector in conclusion. "It was the only thing I could do. You see, I didn't know whether those greasers would catch me or not, so I concluded the best thing to do would be to take no chances, and hide it."
"You think you can find it again?" asked Jack, fascinated by the old prospector's strange story.
"Why, I dunno, son. You see, I was in such a hurry to get away when I heard them fellers coming, that I just stuffed it in a crack in the wall. If they got inquisitive they could easy get it out, but they wouldn't suspect nothing, for the book looked blank."
"But how did you escape without their seeing you?"
"Ah, you've got to trust an old borderer for that," grinned Jim Hicks. "You see, when I got near the church, thinks I to myself, 'now, Jim Hicks, you don't want to burn your bridges behind you' so I just left my pony hidden in a little arroyo about half a mile away. When I heard them coming by the front of the place, I slipped out the other side and into the brush. After a lot of wrigging about through the scrub, I reached my pony, and rode back up here to where I had my outfit cached."
"Then you don't know whether there's treasure there or not?" asked Jack.
"Wa'al, there's treasure there all right, no doubt o' that. That Spanish fellow—I told you how I helped him when he was dying—swore he didn't lie to me, and I believe him. But he hinted at there being some sort of difficulty in the way of getting at it. The breath of death, I think he called it. Guess he meant the greasers' garlic."
"I guess so," responded Jack; "how I wishthat we could go with you right now and explore the secret tunnel."
"Wa'al, we've got to get in communication with the ranch first, and then we can get the greaser troops and get after that band of scallywags," said Pete.
"And we must be two days' ride from it now," sighed Jack. "In the meantime, what will be happening to the others?"
"That's the trouble," mused Pete, "if only we'd had a chance, we might have struck out and got the troops ourselves. But the greasers cut us off, and we're of more use here, even as out of the way as we are, than we would be in Black Ramon's clutches."
"Tell yer what," exclaimed Jim Hicks suddenly, "you don't hev ter ride all ther way to ther ranch."
"What's that?" asked Pete.
"No. I mean what I say. Use the telephone."
"What?"
Jack and Pete looked at the eccentric prospector as if they thought he had gone crazy in good earnest.
"Oh, I'm not locoed. Has your father got talk bo' at the ranch, boy?"
"Yes," rejoined Jack.
"Then it's easy."
The prospector spoke with such easy confidence that, in spite of themselves, Jack and Pete began to pay serious attention to his words.
"Oh, yes; I suppose we jes' climb a sugar-pine and asked Central ter give us Grizzly one twenty-three?" inquired Pete, sardonically.
"Nope," rejoined the miner, quite unruffled; "but hain't yer never thought that there's a telephone at the big water dam?"
"Thunders of Vesuvius, that's right!" exclaimed Pete, leaping to his feet and executing a jig.
"How do we get there, though?" asked Jack. "We must be miles from it."
"Not so very far. I know a trail across the mountain that'll get us there a whole lot sooner than you'd think possible."
"Oh-didy-dd diddy-dum; Dum-dididdy-dee!" hummed Pete cutting all sorts of capers, "oh, now won't we get after those greasers."
"When can we start?" asked Jack.
"Sun up to-morrow."
"Good. I won't rest easy till I know that we're on the way to save Ralph and the others."
"Ralph!"
The voice sounded in the boy's ears like the chiming of a far-away bell. Lying prone on the floor of the tunnel, overcome by the foul gases, he had been unconscious, he did not know for how long, when he felt his shoulders roughly shaken and Walt Phelps' voice in his ear.
His head ached terribly, and he felt weak and dizzy, but he struggled to reply.
"Oh, Walt, what is it? What has happened?"
"Why, we've all been knocked out, I guess," said Walt; "but the gas must be escaping, now, for although my head still feels as if a boiler factory was at work in it, I can think and feel."
The professor's voice now struck in as he recovered consciousness.
"Boys!" he exclaimed. "Are you there?"
"Yes, yes, professor; do you feel strong enough to move?"
"I think so. It is important that we should get out of here at once. I imagine that the gas must have become so distributed by this time that it has lost its harmful effect, but we must get to the open air."
"I agree with you," chimed in Ralph.
"What, Ralph, my boy, you here?" exclaimed the professor. "Why, you were far in advance. How do you come to be with us now?"
As modestly as he could, Ralph related how he had turned back into the black tunnel.
"That was bravely done, bravely done, my boy," exclaimed the professor warmly.
Even in the darkness Ralph colored with pleasure, as Walt added his praise to the scientist's.
Soon after they started for the entrance of the tunnel once more, Ralph having told them of his discovery of the shaft.
"Possibly there are steps cut in it. Let us hope so," said the professor. "If there are not, we shall be as badly off as before, for we cannot get back through the tunnel."
"No," said Ralph with a shudder, "I would not face the horrors of the place again for a whole lot."
A careful investigation of the shaft soon revealed, to their great joy, that a flight of steps had indeed been cut in it, doubtless to enable the old Mission dwellers to ascend and descend from the surface of the earth when they desired.
"The question now is," said the professor suddenly, "where are we? On what sort of ground will these steps lead us out?"
"Give it up," said Walt. "I should judge, though, we must have come a mile or more through the tunnel."
"Quite that," agreed the professor.
"Well, the only way to find out our location is to climb up and see what we come out on," said Ralph, to put an end to the hesitation. "Who'll be first up?"
There was quite an argument over this, the professor declaring that, as he was the eldest, he ought to assume the danger. Ralph ended it by springing on to the first of the rough and slippery steps himself.
"Come on," he cried, though in a lowered tone.
A few seconds of climbing brought the boy to the mouth of the shaft. It was quite thickly over-grown with brush, and had evidently not been used for many years. For an instant Ralph hesitated before he shoved through the scrub surrounding the entrance, but when he did so, and stood outside the natural barrier with the professor and Walt Phelps beside him, he uttered an exclamation of unbounded astonishment, which was echoed by his companions.
Before them the moon was rising, tingeing the tops of the distant range with a silvery light. The illumination also flooded the scene before them.
They stood in a sort of vast, natural basin, of considerable extent, surrounded by rocky walls.
"It's a sunken valley," exclaimed Ralph.
And so it was, in fact.
"Look at the cattle and horses, will you?" cried the practical Walt Phelps, who had been gazing about him.
"Sure enough. There must be several scorehead of stock in here," was Ralph's astonished cry.
"Say," exclaimed Walt suddenly, "do you know what I believe?"
"What?" inquired Ralph.
"That by accident we have stumbled upon Black Ramon's pasturage."
"What!—the place where he keeps the stolen cattle and horses?"
"That's the idea."
"Say, I believe you are right, and, speaking of that, there's something very familiar looking about that little buckskin pony, feeding off there." Ralph pointed at a small animal cropping the grass some ten rods away. "If that isn't Petticoats—the one that tumbled me into the canal—I'll lose a bet, that's all."
"I believe you're right," cried Walt Phelps; "and that other pony beyond, is the dead spit of Firewater, Jack Merrill's favorite mount."
"And, if I mistake not, that large, bony animal yonder, regarding me with a suspicious optic, is the equine I bestrode at the time we were captured,"exclaimed the professor, who had been looking eagerly about him.
"Boys, this is a wonderful discovery," he went on. "I have read of these sunken valleys, but have never seen one before; I should like to examine the geological formation hereabouts."
"Some other time," laughed Ralph; "what I wonder at is that the Mexicans never discovered the secret passage."
"That's not surprising," chimed in Walt Phelps, "the mouth of it is all screened with thick brush, and unless you fairly fell into it you would never know it was there."
"That is so," agreed the professor, "but now, boys, that we are once more in the blessed air, what are we to do?"
"My advice would be to press on till we can find some village. Once there, we shall be safe, and can find some soldiers, or, at least, summon them from wherever their garrison may be. It is our duty to Jack Merrill and Coyote Pete to use every means in our power to save them," said the professor, who, of course was, like his companions, ignorant of the fact that at that veryminute the two he spoke of were riding over the distant foothills for their lives.
This also explained why the party that had just emerged from the tunnel were not molested. Every man that could be spared from immediate guard duty had been summoned to help form the great human circle, which, as we know, Ramon had attempted to spread about Jack Merrill and the sagacious cow-puncher.
"There doesn't seem to be anybody about," said Walt, after a short silence, "let's get in the shadow of the rock wall and creep forward."
"Better yet, if we only had some rope," suggested Ralph.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, both Petticoats and the other two ranch horses seem to be friendly, why couldn't we ride them?"
"The very thing, if only we could make hackamores," cried Walt.
As Ralph had remarked, the ranch horses had come closer, and were sniffing curiously. To the boy's delight, he now saw that they had halters on. As is often done in the West, when the starthad been made from the ranch the bridles had been placed on over the halters, so that when the Mexicans turned the stolen ponies loose, being too lazy to remove the halters, they had left them in place.
"Coax 'em," whispered Walt, holding out his hand flat, as if he had something in it.
Ralph and the professor did the same, and, hesitatingly, and with many snorts, the ponies drew closer, including the professor's raw-boned mount. As they suddenly gathered up courage, and came right up to the boys, each seized his pony by the halter. The professor followed their example instantly.
"Now, to mount," said Walt. "By hookey, I tell you I feel better when I get a pony under me again."
But the boys' attention was suddenly diverted to the professor, who was endeavoring to mount his tall animal, which stood meekly awaiting the conclusion of his efforts. The professor had never mounted a bareback horse before, and imagined, apparently, that the correct method was to shin up the quadruped's forelegs. The boys,notwithstanding their risky situation, could not forbear roaring with laughter at his comical efforts.
"Put one hand on his withers, and the other on his back, and then spring upward," said Walt; "you'll find it easy, then."
The professor obediently doubled his long legs under him, placed his hands as directed, and gave a mighty spring.
Bump!
Such a mighty leap did he give that he over-shot the mark, and came down in a heap on the other side. He gave a groan as he alighted.
"What's the matter?" demanded Ralph, almost doubled up with laughter at the weird spectacle.
"Oh, boys, I am in pain. I've landed on my os ridiculosus."
"Your what?" shouted Walt.
"My os ridiculosus—my funny bone. Ouch!"
The professor groaned aloud as he held his elbow and rocked back and forth. The big, bony horse looked meekly around at him, as much as to say: "Don't blame me, it wasn't my fault."
"Here, we'll give you a hand," said Walt, comingaround to the professor's side and leading Firewater. Ralph followed his example. Together they hoisted the professor on to the back of his scrawny mount.
"Why, this feels like sitting on a clothes horse," grumbled the professor, as he felt the bony elevation of the gray's spinal column.
"Never mind, can't be helped," laughed Ralph, springing on Petticoats' broad back, while Walt mounted Firewater, "we'll make a circus rider of you yet, professor."
"Not on this horse, please," remonstrated the man of science, as all three animals were urged to a fast trot.
The boys decided that as there was no one in sight, the Mexicans had left the valley unguarded for the night, and so did not hesitate to make all the speed they could. As a matter of fact, the valley was seldom visited except when a shipment of stolen cattle or ponies was required. It was, as the professor had said, a natural basin from which there was but one outlet, and that the boys were shortly to find.
For some time they rode along in the darkshadow of the rocky walls, which varied in height from about twenty feet to small precipices of a hundred feet or more.
"Say, it looks as if there wasn't any way out of this basin," began Ralph finally, in an impatient tone.
"There must be," replied Walt; "otherwise, how did they get the cattle and ponies into it?"
"Dropped 'em from a balloon, by the looks of it," rejoined Ralph, with a good-natured laugh at his own stupidity.
"Indeed, it looks as if such might have been the case," said the professor, "for all the visible sign there is of a pathway."
"Hold on! What's that there, dead ahead of us?" exclaimed Walt suddenly.
He had been riding a little in advance, and now drew rein abruptly and pointed to a darker shadow which lay against the gloom of the rock wall.
"Looks like a path," admitted Ralph.
"It's a camino, sure enough," cried Walt, the next instant.
"A what?"
"A camino, a trail, you know."
"Well, I don't care what you call it, so long as it gets us out of here," exclaimed Ralph, eagerly pressing forward.
As Walt had guessed, the darker shadow, on closer investigation, proved to be a rugged trail leading at a steep incline out of the sunken valley. In a few seconds after its discovery their horses' hoofs were clattering up it.
"Great heavens, if there is any one about they'll think there's a charge of cavalry coming," cried Ralph.
"Can't be helped," rejoined Walt, "we've nothing to muffle them with. In any event, if they were to discover us, we shouldn't stand a chance."
But they reached the apparent summit of the trail, and a rough gate, without adventure. It was only the work of a few instants to open the portal, and, after riding a few hundred yards, they found themselves on a billowy expanse of rolling foothills. Far off flashed lights, and to their north the vague outlines of the Sierra de la Hacheta faintly showed.
"Where are we going to ride to, now?" asked Ralph.
"Anywhere away from those lights," rejoined Walt, pointing behind them; "that's the mission. I guess they are looking for us now, and it's going to be 'bad medicine' if they get us."
"Oh, dear," groaned the professor, "I cannot imagine any worse punishment than riding this bony brute. His backbone makes me feel like being seated on a cross-cut saw."
"Never mind, professor, if we can only strike a town of some sort, we shall soon be out of our misery," laughed Ralph. "Come on, then, forward!"
He kicked Petticoats' fat sides, and the little buckskin leaped forward, followed by the others. All that night they rode, and by daybreak reached a small village—a mere huddle of huts, in fact. But it had its dignitaries, as they were soon to find out. As they clattered down its main street, scores of raggedly clothed, brown-skinned natives came out to gaze at them, but not one offered to do anything. Walt had a little Spanish at his command, and, selecting one man, who seemedslightly more intelligent than the rest, he told him they were travelers in need of food and rest. The man seemed to comprehend, and nodded with a grin. Beckoning to the party, he led them forward to a large adobe building at the other end of the one street, which practically comprised the village.
He ushered them in with a bow, after they had dismounted and tied their horses outside. The boys found themselves facing a little, paunchy man, with an air of vast importance investing him. He asked a few rapid questions of their guide in Spanish, and then issued an order to a ragged-looking fellow standing by his side.
"I guess he's gone for breakfast," mused Ralph; "queer way of doing things, but anything for something to eat."
But in a moment the ragged man reappeared without food, but with several others as ragged as himself. The boys noticed they all carried rifles.
The first ragged man beckoned to them, and the fat, paunchy official waved his hand in token of dismissal. He also bowed low. The boys andthe professor, not to be outdone in politeness, also bowed low. Then they followed their guide. He led them round behind the adobe which they had just left, and approached a small building.
"The dining-room, I guess," said Walt cheerfully, as the three stepped through a narrow door-way into a dark interior.
"I don't see any table or—— Great Scott, what's that?" broke off Ralph suddenly.
The door had closed with a clang, and they heard the big bar on the outside being placed in position.
"Hey, there, let us out!"
"What are you doing?"
"Where's our breakfast?"
These exclamations came in chorus from the travelers. For an instant there was silence without, and then came a snarling sort of cry, which sounded very much like a contemptuous:
"Yah-h-h-h-h!"
Furiously the two boys fell on the stout door and shook it. It remained as firmly rooted in position as rock.
"We're prisoners once more," gasped Ralph.
Bright and early, before the last stars had faded, in fact, Jack Merrill and Pete eagerly roused Jim Hicks for the trip to the water company's dam. Both of them hated the idea of losing a minute on this important errand. Once awakened, Jim Hicks proved a nimble person, and breakfast was soon dispatched, his animals packed and saddled, and Maud made ready. No time was lost in hitting the trail when these preparations had been concluded. Jim Hicks was a born trailer, and led the two travelers over the ragged ways of the rough mountains in a skillful manner that excited even Coyote Pete's admiration.
At noon they ate a hasty meal and then pressed on. Jim Hicks promised to land them at the dam at about dusk. Controlling their impatience as best they could, Jack Merrill and Coyote Peterode obediently after the prospector. One change had been made in the cavalcade since noon. One of the packs had been transferred to Maud, while another pack had been taken off one of the other ponies and had been distributed between two of his brethren. This left two ponies for Coyote Pete and his young companion to ride.
After this change they pressed on far more quickly, and shortly before sundown their guide halted on the top of a ridge and pointed downward.
Far below them they could see an immense silvery sheet of water—a small lake, in fact. Its surface shimmered in the dying light, and, at another time the two travelers would have admired the sight of the mirror-like sheet of water in its natural frame of rock and ragged timber. Now, however, their thoughts were riveted on the idea of getting to the 'phone, and, by the tiny filament of wire, summoning powerful aid for their beleaguered companions.
"Purty, ain't it?" asked Jim Hicks softly.
"Shouldn't have imagined they'd ever have gotsuch a lot of water together out here," grunted Coyote Pete. "Where's it all come from?"
"Partly from damming up the creek, and partly from the water that pours off the higher ridges when the snow melts in the spring. We're purty high up here, you know."
"Well, that's a pretty good showing for a country where the rainfall isn't more than four inches a year," commented Coyote Pete.
"Not that, sometimes," put in Jim Hicks, "and, by the same token, if this wasn't summer I should say we were in for some rain now."
He looked overhead, and Jack noticed that the sky, which had been cloudless not very long before, was now black and overcast. A heavy element was in the air, too—an oppressive sort of feeling.
"Come on, let's be getting down the slope," said Coyote Pete suddenly, and once more they moved onward. As they threaded their way down the narrow trail, Jack's mind reverted to the destroyed bridge.
"How far should you imagine that bridge was below here?" he asked.
"You mean where the bridge was, I reckon," grinned Jim Hicks, who had heard the story of the Mexican's trick, from Jack and his companion. "Well, I should judge about five miles from here."
"Then we are on the Mexican side of the canal cañon?"
"Yep; but we'll soon be on American soil, sonny, don't forget that."
"Not likely to," rejoined Jack fervently.
After half an hour's riding, the great water-works came into full view. There was a massive, containing-wall of cement, with a pathway along the top, and in the center the trailers could see the machinery used for opening and closing the sluice pipes that fed the irrigation canal. Word was telephoned from the land company's offices in Maguez to the dam-keeper regarding the pressure to be used, and, in accordance with their instructions, he turned on more or less.
At the near side of the dam was a small building in which the dam-keeper made his home. From its roof there extended a pole, from which, to Jack's intense delight, they could see a thinwire stretching off to the north. On that wire now depended so much that Jack almost felt like taking his hat off to it and to the inventor of telephones.
"Geddap!" urged Jim Hicks, cracking his quirt about the haunches of his pack animals. The little cavalcade broke into a brisk trot. The dust spurted from under their rattling hoofs.
"We're coming on in style," laughed Jack, as they came briskly down the last few rods of the trail.
"Don't see old Simmons about," commented Jim Hicks, looking for some sign of the dam-keeper. "Guess he's taking a snooze some place. Hey, Sam! Sam!"
"Here he comes," said Jack briskly, as the door of the dam-tender's hut opened. But the next moment every member of the approaching party gave a gasp of dismay. Jim Hicks spasmodically jerked up his rifle to his shoulder, but instantly lowered it again.
From the door of the hut there had stepped out, not old Sam Simmons, the dam-tender, but—Black Ramon and six of his men!
They held their weapons grimly leveled at Jack Merrill and his companion, while Ramon sharply bade them dismount.
"We have prepared for you what we must call a little surprise party," he said. "Please tie your horses and we will go inside."
Resistance was useless, and they obeyed.
To understand how this came about, we must revert for a moment to events which had been taking place at the old Mission and at the Rancho Agua Caliente while we have been following the young adventurers and their companions. We left Mr. Merrill and his cow-punchers riding back toward the ranch with heavy hearts, bearing with them the wounded Mexican, from whom they hoped to gain some information concerning Black Ramon's whereabouts.
On the arrival of the disconsolate party at the ranch house, Mr. Merrill had at once sent out a call to his neighbors, and they came riding in from miles around to a consultation. All agreed that it would be a grave invasion of international law to send an armed party over the border, butit was agreed that, providing the Mexican recovered it would be legitimate to surround Black Ramon's rendezvous—that is, if the prisoner revealed it—and demand the surrender of the prisoners. The Mexican authorities would then be informed and, if possible, Black Ramon given over to justice.
This course would have been followed at once but for two reasons. Mr. Merrill and his brother ranchers felt that to act prematurely might ruin everything, and the wounded Mexican obstinately refused to get better. Still another obstacle, was the great chasm left by the blowing up of the bridge. It would be impossible to pass this. Just when this difficulty seemed in its most serious phase, an old rancher spoke up and volunteered to guide the party by a secret trail he knew of, which led over the mountains and across the border.
As he spoke, the wounded Mexican, who for better attention and observation had been laid on a cot in the living room of the ranch house, stirred uneasily.
"Hullo, he's coming to," exclaimed Mr. Merrillbending over him, but the man's eyes remained closed, and he seemed, to all intents and purposes, as badly off as he had been before. For two days he remained thus, and the ranchers carried on their consultations freely before him, little dreaming what a hornets' nest they were preparing to bring down about their own heads. On the morning of the third day, when Mr. Merrill awakened he was astonished to find that the Mexican's cot was empty. The man was gone! A search showed that he was not about the place, and a further investigation revealed the fact that one of the best horses on the ranch was missing.
The wounded Mexican had been "playing possum" just as a wounded animal will sometimes do, awaiting but the slightest relaxation of vigilance to be up and off.
The consternation this caused may be imagined. If the man understood English, and there seemed little room to doubt that he did—otherwise he would have had no object in deceiving them as to his real condition—the ranchers' plans must by this time be known to Black Ramon. Mr. Merrill was in despair for a time, but finally, as a lastrecourse, and even at the risk of upsetting everything, he decided to call up Los Hominos, a considerable town in Chihuahua province, and request that soldiers be sent in pursuit of Black Ramon.
None knew better than Mr. Merrill the danger he thus incurred of having his plans doubly revealed to the chief of the cattle rustlers. The country posts of the Mexican army are largely recruited from men in sympathy with the lawless element—especially if that lawless element confines itself to preying on Americanos. There was, therefore, a grave risk that some traitor in the ranks might convey the news of Mr. Merrill's request to Black Ramon. That it was no time for doubts or hesitation, however, every rancher felt, and on the top of Mr. Merrill's message preparations were at once made for a start across the border by the ranchers themselves.
In the meantime, the captured Mexican, whose wound, though severe, still allowed him to ride, was spurring on his way across the Hachetas to Black Ramon's headquarters in the old Mission. It has been said that the greatest blackguardshave sometimes the most faithful followers, and this seemed to be the case with the Mexican miscreant, for his underling, despite the pain of his wound and his weakened condition, did not hesitate an instant over taking a ride which might have caused even a slightly wounded man to pause and reflect on the undertaking.
Thus it had come about, that, at the same time that Jack Merrill and Coyote Pete, escorted by the eccentric prospector, were setting out to get in communication with civilization, Black Ramon and six of his most trusted followers had started for the land company's dam, with what a heinous purpose in view we shall presently see. The Mexican was in the blackest of moods. He had hardly returned from his vain chase after Jack Merrill and the cow-puncher before word had been brought to him that his other prisoners had escaped.
The Mexican was almost beside himself with rage as he heard this, and, in addition, news had been brought to him that Mr. Merrill had requisitioned that a band of soldiers be sent in search of him. Armed also with the wounded man'sstory of the pursuit of the ranchers by means of the secret trail, Ramon was indeed almost desperate when he set out with the intention of accomplishing the deed he had in mind. He felt he would render his name hateful to Americans and glorious to border Mexicans forever, and was all the more anxious to achieve it for that reason.
His astonishment, therefore, when he heard Coyote Pete's hail and emerged from the dam-tender's hut to find his escaped prisoners walking right into his net again, was only equalled by his delight. As his followers bound each of the three hand and foot, after roughly dragging them from their ponies, Black Ramon rubbed his hands gleefully.
"You are going to see a sight before long that you will remember all your days," he said, as the Americans, scornfully disdaining to utter a word, were carried into the hut.
"What, you do not answer?"
"No, you yellow dog," grunted Jim Hicks disdainfully, "I'm mighty particular who I talk to."
Beside himself with fury at the American's calm contempt, the Mexican opened his palm andstruck the bound and helpless miner a blow across the face. Jim Hicks' ruddy, bronzed countenance went white as dead ashes.
"You'll be sorry for that, you greaser, some day," he said in a quiet, controlled tone, which to those who knew him signified trouble.
"Some day, yes!" laughed Ramon; "but I shall be far away some day, amigo, but before I go I am going to give you Americanos a lesson you will never forget. The father of this boy here, and twelve other rancheros, are riding through the American foothills now to your rescue. But they will never reach the mountains. Why?—Ah, you will soon see."
As they were carried into the hut and thrown roughly on the floor, Jim Hicks' eyes espied poor Sam Simmons, the tender of the dam. The employee of the water company was also bound hand and foot, and seemed to have been beaten into submission by the brutal Mexicans. He gave a slight groan as he saw the plight of the new-comers, but made no other sign.
"He resisted us," laughed Black Ramonharshly, "see what happened to him. It is a good thing you gave in without making trouble."
As he spoke, there came a long, low grumble that shook the earth and made the furniture in the hut rattle. It was the near approach of the storm the captives had noticed impending. At the same instant, there came a dazzling flash of lambent lightning. It illumined the cruel faces about them as if a flickering calcium had been thrown upon them.
The advancing storm seemed to have a strange effect on Sam Simmons; he stirred in his thongs and a pitiful expression came over his bruised face.
"The storm! the storm!" he cried. "Hark! it is coming. Let me out to tend the gates."
"Not likely," sneered Black Ramon, turning from him contemptuously.
"But the sluices must be opened. The rain is coming!" cried the old man, seemingly galvanized into life by the call of duty. "Let me loose, I say."
"Be quiet," snarled Ramon. "Do you want another dose of the same medicine?"
The old man quivered pitifully, while the others looked on with eyes that burned with indignation.
"If they are not opened, the dam will burst," begged the old man. "It is weakened now, I tell you. It cannot stand the pressure of more water. Let me up, and then you can tie me again."
Ramon seemed suddenly interested.
"You say that if the sluices are not opened the dam will burst?" he asked.
"Yes, yes! Let me up, I must open them. I——"
"Silence! And if they burst what will happen?"
"Why, the whole valley from here down is a trough! The water will rush down and destroy many lives and acres of property. Let me up, for Heaven's sake, Ramon, or if you will not let me do it, open the sluices yourself. You do not know what you are doing—every moment counts."
Again the thunder roared, and a blinding flash illumined with a blue, steely radiance the strange scene in the old dam-tender's shanty. In thebrief period of lighting, Jack Merrill surprised a wickedly radiant look on Ramon's face. At the same instant a few heavy drops of rain fell on the roof.
"Hark! The rain!" cried the old man; "for mercy's sake, let me out. It is my duty."
"Which you will not perform to-night," sneered the Mexican, as the storm increased; "this storm saves us the use of dynamite."
In one dreadful flash of insight, Jack Merrill realized the Mexican's terrible plan. He had intended to blow up the dam and flood the valley below. The storm had taken the work out of his hands. The heavy rain-fall would swell the dam till the weak containing wall broke. In a few short hours every ranch in the course of the bursting dam would be devastated. Yes, that was what the fruit rancher at Maguez had told them. And there was nothing he could do but lie there powerlessly. The boy's brain seemed to be on fire, but in his veins was ice.
Suddenly Black Ramon spoke. For an instant Jack thought he had repented, but his words dashed that hope almost as it was born. TheMexican issued a sharp order to two of his men.
"Screw down those sluice gates till not a drop escapes," he said. "We do not want to have to wait too long."
Outside the shanty the storm roared and flashed. The rain pelted in torrents. Suddenly there came a sharp ringing at the telephone instrument. It seemed to have a note of insistence in it. The Mexicans exchanged glances. Here was an unexpected interruption. The instrument connected on a direct wire with the land company's offices. If one of the Mexicans answered it, the possibilities were that a warning would be spread that the dam was being tampered with.
Ramon solved the difficulty. Without untying the old man, he had two of his men support him to the telephone. Another held the receiver to Sam Simmons' ear.
Black Ramon drew his revolver and held it to the other ear.
"Now, if you utter a word of warning, I'llscatter what brains you have," he warned viciously.
In a trembling voice Sam Simmons answered the call.
"Y-y-yes, the storm is here," Jack heard him answer, evidently in reply to some question at the other end.
"Y-y-yes, I will open them, sir. Y-y-yes, I know the dam is weak."
"Don't hesitate," warned Black Ramon vindictively.
"Y-y-you'll send the engineers to-morrow, you say? Very well, sir."
"Evidently they know of the storm in the valley," thought Jack to himself; "shouldn't wonder if the old man himself warned them some time ago, before he was tied."
This was, in fact, the case. But now the old man's hesitancy grew more painful than ever.
"T-t-they're asking about you," he said, turning to the Mexican.
"Tell them you haven't seen me," snarled Ramon.
"No, I have seen nothing of him," whimperedthe old man feebly. "Kidnapped some boys, you say—the ranchers are after him—and the soldiers, too——"
"There, there, that will do," said the Mexican impatiently. "When the dam bursts, those Americanos will be drowned like so many rats, and the soldiers will find an empty nest for their pains."
"G-g-good-bye. I will attend to it," quavered the old dam-tender. After responding to further warning from the other end of the wire, he was removed from the telephone and the receiver was replaced.
At the same instant the two Mexicans who had been despatched to the dam to close the sluice gates returned. Their evil smiles showed that they had done their duty well. The rain had now increased to a torrent and the small gauge on the side of the dam-keeper's hut showed that the water was rising rapidly.
"How long before the dam goes?" asked Ramon, bending over the old man, who was moaning and crying pitifully over the idea of his treachery.
"She can't last more than half an hour," he whimpered. "Oh, what shall I do? They will think it was my fault. They——"
There came a roar so dreadful that the hut seemed to be shaken like a leaf in a windstorm. At the same instant a blue glare filled the hut, hissing viciously like a nest of aroused serpents. A sulphurous odor permeated everything. Before any of the occupants of the place had time to move a step an explosion so loud that it seemed as if a ton of dynamite had detonated, rent the air.
Jack's eyes were almost blinded by the sudden glare and crash, and his senses reeled for an instant. The next moment, however, he realized what had happened. The hut had been struck by a thunderbolt.
Black Ramon, his clothing singed, stood in a dazed way in the center of the smoking hut—in the floor of which a great, jagged hole had been ripped. By his side stood two of his men. The rest lay senseless, perhaps dead, in various parts of the reeking place.
One of them had been hurled by the violenceof the electrical shock close to Jack's side, and his knife lay within an inch of the boy's fingers. Bound as he was, however, he could not reach it, nor did he dare to move while the Mexican leader's eyes were on them.
Suddenly the cattle rustler's superstitious mind seemed to recover from its daze. He gazed about him in a wild way.
"It is the judgment of Heaven," he cried. "Let us escape."
Followed by the two of his men who still retained their senses, he dashed from the hut.
In an instant Jack rolled over on his side and seized the haft of the Mexican's knife in his teeth. Then he rolled over to Coyote Pete's side.
"What the dickens——" began the cow-puncher, but stopped short as Jack, still holding the blade clenched in his teeth, laid the keen blade across Pete's ropes. The knife was as keen as a razor, and in a few seconds Coyote Pete's hands were free. Then he took the knife and severed his leg bonds. A few seconds more and Jack was free, and, in less time than it takes to tell, old Sam Simmons and Jim Hicks were also on their feet.
"Quick, get their weapons," urged the cow-puncher, and instantly all four possessed themselves of the four unconscious Mexicans' knives, pistols and rifles. Black Ramon and his men, in their superstitious fright, had rushed from the place in such a hurry that they had neglected to disarm their followers.
"Now for the ponies," exclaimed Jim Hicks.
"Hold on a moment," shouted Jack. He dived out of the hut into the blinding rain. But old Simmons was ahead of him. Already the old man had sped along the top of the dam, and while the weakened breast wall of masonry shook under his feet with the great pressure behind it, had screwed open the sluice gates. Far below them a yellow flood boomed and roared and screamed its way to the valley, but the pressure on the dam had been relieved and the masonry stood.
All this took some time, and in the meanwhile Coyote Pete and Jim Hicks had cautiously crept from the hut and gone to look for the horses. They found them unharmed, but of Black Ramon there was no sign. They learned afterward that his animals had been left down the trail, soas not to alarm old Simmons when they crept on him and surprised him. As soon as the Mexican had found himself outside the lightning-blasted hut, he had lost no time in mounting his black, and speeding back to his rendezvous at the old mission. He had, of course, no idea but that the boys and the old dam-tender would go to their death with the hut when the dam collapsed.
Suddenly Jack thought of the telephone. He ran back into the hut and telephoned the glad news of the safety of the dam to the amazed office in Maguez. Also he gave them a brief sketch of what had happened.
"But what the——" came a brief voice at the other end, but already Jack had rung off and was outside, where Jim Hicks and Coyote Pete had the ponies.
They had held a hasty consultation, and had decided that inasmuch as the soldiers were advancing on the mission, and the American ranchers were on their way, that their best plan would be to head back toward the valley. But it was Jack who vetoed this plan.
"I want to be in at the finish of those rascals,"he exclaimed, "and, besides, think of our friends imprisoned in that dismal old church."
"You're right, kid," shouted Coyote Pete, waving a dripping hat in the downpour, "the mission it is."
Old Simmons had been too badly shaken by his encounter with the Mexican for it to be advisable to leave him alone. Maud's pack was therefore removed, and the old dam-tender mounted on her. First, however, a call was sent for a "relief." Till the latter arrived the sluices were to be left open to drain off the heavy surplus of water.
"Wished I knew where them greasers' horses were," sighed Jim Hicks; "they'll be coming to in a minute, and walkin' bein' a healthy exercise, I'd like to provide some of it for them."
A short distance down the trail they found the miscreants' ponies, just as Ramon had left them hitched. Even the fair-minded Jack did not protest when Coyote Pete and Jim Hicks, with yells of glee, cut the cayuses loose and sent them galloping off.
"I only wish we could be here to see the Mexicans'faces when they wake up and wonder what's hit 'em," said Jim, who had examined each of the stunned men and ascertained that not one of them was seriously hurt.
"Now, then, forward!" cried Jim, as soon as the clatter of the retreating Mexican ponies' hoofs had died out.
"Forward!" echoed Jack again, putting his heels to his mount.
With a loud shout, the four Americans dashed down the trail.
"Now look out for fireworks! Yip-yip-yip-y-ee-e-ee!" yelled Coyote Pete, in a voice that rivaled the last efforts of the retreating thunder-storm.
After shouting for an hour or more, Ralph and Walt grew tired of the exercise. As for the professor, with his usual philosophy he had made the best of the situation by surveying their prison, which was a small, barn-like building of adobe. There was nothing very remarkable about it, except that three Americans had been imprisoned there for no apparent reason.
At nightfall they were brought some food, and frantic efforts were made by Walt to interrogate the Mexican who served them, but to no avail. The fellow only shook his head stupidly, and pretended not to understand.
"Whatever are we locked up here for, anyhow?" demanded Ralph, for the fiftieth time, as they ate their evening meal.
"Give it up," said Walt with a shrug.
"You don't think it can have anything to do with Black Ramon, do you?" inquired the professor.
"Not likely," rejoined Walt; "even down here there is some law and order, and the townsfolk of this place, whatever it is, would hardly be in league with a band of robbers."
"Then what do you suppose they have detained us for?"
"As I said before, Ralph, I give it up. Maybe it's for having red hair and looking suspiciously like Americans."
Soon after some blankets were thrown in to them, which they spread on the not overclean floor, and, being tired out, were soon asleep. In the morning they were awakened, and passed a long, dreary day in the semi-darkness.
"I can't stand this much longer," Ralph burst out, on the second night of their imprisonment. "If something doesn't happen soon, I'm going to escape."
"How?" inquired the practical Walt, gazing about at the thick walls and the small windows of their place of captivity.
"I don't know how, but I will, you can bet," said Ralph decisively.
"Well, I'm going to sleep," said Walt; and, accordingly, he curled himself up in his blanket and was soon wrapped in slumber. The professor followed his example, but Ralph could not sleep. What, with worry over their own situation and wondering how his friends, whom he believed were still captives in the mission, were faring, his eyes were wide open till past midnight.
At that hour the quiet of the village was disturbed by a sudden sound—the trample of horses' hoofs and the clanking of metal.
"Black Ramon has found out we are here and is coming for us," was Ralph's first thought.
But the trampling went on, and suddenly a bugle call sounded.
"Soldiers!" exclaimed Ralph.
Hastily he awoke the others, and, after a prolonged period of listening, there was little doubt from the military character of the sounds outside that the newcomers were indeed troops.
"Maybe they are out after the brigands," gasped Ralph, in a hopeful tone.
"If only we could see their commander and explain our predicament to him," wished the professor.
"And get laughed at for your pains," supplemented Walt.
In the morning, so early that the dawn was still gray, their jailer aroused them. Wondering what could be going to happen, the boys hurriedly put on the few clothes they had taken off the night before, and, with the professor, obeyed his signal to follow him.
They were quickly conducted before the short, pursy man, who had committed them to their cell. Now, however, he was all smiles and condescension.
The reason for this may have lain in the fact that a smart-looking officer of the Mexican cavalry stood by his side and eyed the boys with interest as they came in. He was in command of the troops that had arrived the night before, and which, though the boys had not guessed it, were the ones summoned from Los Hominos.
It now appeared that the fat dignitary couldtalk passable English when he chose, and, as the boys entered, he greeted them with an airy:
"Good morning."
"Good morning," sputtered Ralph, indignation taking the place of prudence. "You ought to beg our pardons. What have we done to be locked up like criminals? We demand a hearing. We——"
"There, there," said the stout man soothingly; "all is well. This officer has told me that in all probability you are respectable, and——"
"In all probability?" burst out the professor, "I am Professor Wintergreen, of Stonefell College, and this young man is my charge, Ralph Stetson, and this other gentleman is Walter Phelps, the son of a rancher."
"The names I have on my list as being among those imprisoned by Black Ramon," interrupted the officer. "Pray, señors, how did you escape?"
"Tell us first why we are locked up," demanded Ralph.
"Why, as I understand it, this worthy man, who is mayor of this village, merely had you detainedon suspicion. He thought you might be horse thieves, and——"
"Me a horse thief!" shouted the professor.
"You forget your appearance is——" began the officer, but was interrupted by a good-natured laugh from all three of the adventurers. True, they had forgotten how they must have looked after their adventure in the tunnel. Later, when they saw a mirror, they did not blame the fat mayor so much. Plastered with dirt and mud, scratched and ragged, they did, indeed, look unlike the three trim persons who had set out from the American foothills in pursuit of Black Ramon.
"But he could have found out who we were by asking us," protested Ralph.
"He tells me he was going to do so—to-morrow."
"You forgot we are in the land of manana," reminded the professor.
After some more palaver, the mayor signified that the three Americans could have their liberty, and apologized for their detention on behalf of himself and his village.
It was soon explained to the boys by the officer that he was hastening with fifty picked men to round up the rustlers who had long infested that part of Mexico.
"But," he admitted, "had we not fallen in with you, we would hardly have known where to find them."
"No, the last place you would look for them would be in a church," grinned Walt.
Soon after, the boys, having despatched a hasty breakfast, the cavalry set out. The boys rode in advance to guide them to the retreat of Black Ramon and his men. The professor ambled along, sitting uneasily on the saddle which had now been provided for him. It was a long time before he recovered from his bareback ride on the old ranch horse.
"If these fellows are Mexican cavalry, they are all right," said Ralph, admiringly looking at the easy riding and smart equipment of the fifty men under the friendly officer.
"They are rurales," explained the officer; "a section of the army kept especially for hunting brigands and robbers. Most of them are formerbrigands themselves, but there are no better men for the work."
By mid-afternoon they came in sight of the old mission, and, as they approached it, the boys gave a shout of astonishment, which was echoed by the professor.
Riding toward them, from the opposite direction, was a band of horsemen. Faster they came in their direction, seemingly spurring onward to destruction.
"Those greasers must be crazy," exclaimed Ralph, gazing at what seemed a suicidal act. "They're riding right at us."
Suddenly a dip in the foothills hid the approaching horsemen, but the thunder of their hoofs could still be heard. Could Ramon have an ambush on the other side of the rise, wondered Ralph.
The same thought must have come to the Mexican officer, for he gave a curt order and his men, bursting into a wild yell, drew their carbines from their holsters and prepared to use them.
"We'll fire when they come over the ridge," whispered the captain to Ralph.