The boys slept late the next morning and when they awoke the Mexican was still lying on his blanket, not sleeping but still not working. Feeling that they should do something to earn the hospitality of their new-found friend the two boys brought wood from the thicket and kindled the fire. The Mexican gave them some beans and they speedily made enough for all of them.
After they had eaten they started off in the direction of Senorita Mercedes’ ranch, the Mexican riding slowly and the boys walking beside him. They had managed to dry out their clothes and put them on, and although they were a mass of wrinkles and ridges they did well enough. Their shoes had shrunk somewhat and walking was not easy, but they stuck to the task manfully, plodding along mile after mile without complaint.
Several times during the trip the overseer got down from his horse and insisted that one of the boys mount and ride for a few miles, and although they protested he would not listen to them. So they rode gratefully, in this way saving themselves from a good many aches and pains. The Mexican was not used to walking but he said nothing, trudging along on one side or the other of the horse cheerfully.
They stopped once for dinner and then pressed on again. The foreman of the ranch was sure that they would reach the Mercedes place in two days, or late on the following day, so they pushed on eagerly. In the early afternoon they were forced to take a rest from the heat of the sun, but covered a few miles before it was time to make camp for the night.
They were near the coast at the time and their camp was pitched in the hollow formed by two small hills. They had looked for a favorable location, for this one had no wood near it, as the country was mostly barren, and thickets few and far between. Some green bushes grew nearby and they resolved to use these as a final resource, but before doing so Jim and Terry started out to see it they could find anything more promising. Terry went over the top of one hill and Jim over the top of the other, while the overseer prepared for their supper.
Jim had a small axe which Alaroze had given him and he walked along the ridge of the small hill looking carefully around. On the opposite side of the hill he found a long depression in the soil which looked as though it might have been the bed of a stream at one time, perhaps some creek which had originally flowed from the distant mountains. He wandered down it aimlessly, convinced that his quest for wood was not likely to be very successful. A vast stillness lay over the country and he felt very much alone. A mile or more to the east of him he could hear the sound of the ocean.
There was no use in walking down the defile, he decided, so he started for the slope of the slight hill which was beside him. As he did so his foot struck something solid. He bent down to see what it was and found a small stick of wood protruding from the sand at his feet. He cleared the sand away around the stick, to find that it was quite large and that it ran into the sand for some little distance. When he had finally drawn it from its sheath be examined it with curiosity.
It was a piece of mahogany and it showed the hand of civilization. Although it was now black with age it had at one time been varnished. It was a large splinter and he wondered how it ever got there. Examining it closely he detected signs which led him to believe that it had been burned at some time. There was a thin line running across it that suggested carving.
“That’s funny,” he reflected. “Somebody once had a fire here and used good wood for it. Perhaps there is more nearby.”
With this thought in mind he dug his axe deeper in the sand and began to scoop it out. Before many minutes had passed he ran across another piece of wood, but this one he could not get out. It seemed to have no end and he set to work in earnest to uncover it. But after he had uncovered about twenty-five running feet he stopped in perplexity.
“This must be a house!” he cried. “Every bit of it burned, too.”
The top of the long section of wood had been burned. It was thick wood and he tried to dig down under it. But after he had dug sand out to the depth of four feet he stopped and looked puzzled. It was a straight wooden wall, extending down into the valley of sand.
Jim stopped his work and walked to the top of the rise, where he slowly looked up and down the pass. He looked toward the ocean, calculated thoughtfully and then looked toward the mountains. Then, looking down toward the long strip of black wood which he had uncovered he voiced his thought.
“That’s a ship down there, evidently burned to the water’s edge and later covered up by shifting sand. Now, I wonder——?”
Without finishing his thought he hurried down to the trench and once more went to work. Digging some five feet down beside the wall of wood he came to a flooring of hard planks, just what he had been looking for. It was the deck of a ship, and he began feverishly to dip out sand. In this task he was finally surprised by Terry and the overseer.
Terry had returned to the camp with a few dead bushes and they had waited around for Jim to return, but as he did not do so they became alarmed and set out to find him. Their first glimpse of him was an odd one. When they topped the rise some distance back of him they saw him standing in a deep trench, facing a four foot wall of wood, busily engaged in scooping sand from the hole and throwing it as far away as he could. With cries of astonishment they hurried up to the long trench which he was making.
“Jim!” Terry cried, while the Mexican looked on with bulging eyes. “What is this?”
Jim started slightly as he straightened up. “It is the remains of a sunken ship,” he cried. “See, this is evidently the rail, a solid wall of wood, and I’m just uncovering the deck. It was burned to the edge of the water, and later covered up with sand.”
“Well, I’ll be jiggered!” shouted Terry. “Do you think it is the treasure ship?”
“I don’t know, but I wouldn’t doubt it. As you can see, I have uncovered about twenty-five feet of this rail. The deck seems to be good and I’m trying to uncover enough of it to find a hatchway, so that we can see if it is empty down below.”
Terry and the Mexican jumped down beside him. The Mexican understood enough of English to know that they thought the ship beneath them might be a treasure ship, and he set to work with a sincere will to scoop sand. They could not make much progress, however, for it was rapidly growing dark, and at last they were forced to give it up until the next day.
“That is the best we can do,” Jim decided, peering about him in the dark. “Let’s chop some of this wood and then we’ll go back to camp.”
With his axe he hacked off enough wood to last them through the night and the three companions carried it back to their camp, where, amid much talking, they built the fire and cooked the supper. The Mexican was told the whole story and he replied that he knew the legend of the phantom galleon. The boys were not averse to telling him the story for they felt that they owed him much and knew that his future help would mean everything. It was late that night before they lay down to sleep, and with the rising of the sun they were up and at work on the buried wreck.
It took them all the morning to clear the solid deck of the ancient ship for a space of several feet and at last they came to a hatchway, covered by a heavy door which was flush with the deck. There was a bolt on the door but one blow of the axe broke it in pieces, and the three united all their strength to pulling the hatch open. It came upward at last, releasing a flood of stale and poisonous air that sent them reeling backward with all possible speed.
“Diable!” gasped Alaroze. “I think all the fiends are closed inside!”
When the air had cleared sufficiently they all peered down the open hatchway, to discover a wide flight of stairs leading down into the hold of the ship. There was now no longer any doubt but what it was the phantom galleon, for it was built on a magnificent scale. They realized that had it not been burned the rear of the galleon would never have been covered up, for the rear of the Spanish ships were composed of high after-deck houses, but this ship had been burned and only the deck, which had been below the water, had remained.
“The hold must be full of water and sand,” Terry commented.
Jim swung his feet over the edge of the deck and gingerly felt the step below. “Full of sand, yes, but not of water. The sand will be wet, though. Now be careful on these stairs.”
The stairs were solid and safe, but they did not go far. Originally the ship had run aground and filled with water, and in time the sand had filled up the hold of the galleon. A space of about six feet only was open, and in this space the foul air had been held. The three companions found a bed of moist sand cutting off any further progress.
“If there is any gold in this ship, it is below the sand,” Alaroze said in Spanish.
“Yes, senor,” nodded Jim. “I think we had better not walk on this sand for fear of falling into some pit. If we ever sank in this wet stuff, that would be the end of us.”
“It surely would,” remarked Terry. “What is this sticking up out of the sand? A piece of brass?”
It was a dull strip of brass, but when Jim scraped the sand from it they found that it was long and finally discovered that it was the edge of a brass-bound chest.
“Oh, somebody’s trunk!” said Terry, indifferently.
But the eyes of the Mexican were glittering and Jim himself was excited. “More likely the top of a treasure chest!” he retorted, and dealt the chest top a slashing blow with his axe.
With a shuddering, sucking sound the paper-like substance tore off, revealing to the three in the hold a sight which took away their breath. Gold in the form of coins of all sizes was revealed, gold which lay and still gleamed in the interior of the trunk. The Mexican talked furiously to himself in his native language, and the boys simply stared.
“Gold, the gold of the treasure ship!” gasped Jim, scarcely able to believe his eyes.
Terry picked up some of it and examined it curiously. “It is gold, sure enough,” he agreed, dazzled. “Wish we had the professor here to tell us just what it represents.”
“Perhaps there is more around,” Jim suggested. He began to dig his axe into the sand, while the Mexican stood back of him, his eyes gone suddenly black and calculating. But Jim found that there was no more.
“Probably this chest was brought up here, while the rest of the treasure is still below. At any rate, even if there is no more, there is enough to make us all rich.” He turned to Alaroze with a smile. “Well, senor, it was lucky for us when we ran across you, and lucky for you when you agreed to guide us home. Your share from this will make you a rich man.”
“Yes, yes, senor,” agreed the overseer, breaking into a smile. “I bless the day we met! May the saints reward you!”
“We’ve been rewarded pretty well already!” grinned Jim. “Well, what shall we do? We can’t do much of anything until we return home, get the rest of the party and return here to go to work. Suppose we take along some of the gold and start out for the ranch.”
They took several of the largest coins, the hands of the Mexican trembling as he did so, and made their way up on deck again. Terry demanded of Jim if he was going to leave the galleon ruins uncovered.
“Yes,” replied Jim. “There isn’t much chance of anyone coming this way, and it would take us hours to cover it up. Let’s spend that time on our homeward journey.”
“All I hope is that we run across the others in quick order, then,” said Terry. “I’d hate to lose time while this treasure is lying uncovered.”
Leaving the galleon they returned to camp and prepared to start back for the ranch. The Mexican went to his horse, picked up his rifle and looked at it, and then placed it against a tiny mound of sand. With averted face he picked up the blanket and his few supplies.
Terry and Jim were conferring earnestly. “It will take a large force of men to dig down into that wreck,” Terry said. “We’ll let the professor and Ned decide what is best to do.”
“Sure,” agreed Jim, swinging around. “Well, I guess we’re ready to go.”
Then, both boys stopped suddenly. Standing before them, with his rifle levelled straight at them, stood the Mexican overseer. There was a hard light in his black eyes and his mouth was a straight line, the lips white.
“What—what’s the matter?” asked Jim, smiling slightly, and thinking that there was some joke in the wind.
“Nothing is wrong, senor,” came the reply. “But since you two know so well where the gold is, I shall regret the necessity of killing you both so that it will be all mine!”
The party on the hill was surprised at the action of the mestizo as he fairly pounced upon his rifle. But before he could even lift it a clear-cut voice spoke out back of them.
“Keep your hands off of that gun, or I’ll drill a few holes into you!”
They turned, to find back of them a little short man in a blue uniform of a sailor, who had crept up on them quietly from the rear. He held a rifle in his hand and turned it unwaveringly toward the members of the watching group.
“What is the meaning of this?” demanded the professor, after a second of silence.
“No meaning at all,” chuckled the man, whose uniform proclaimed him a mate on a sailing ship. “You fellows march down the hill until my captain looks you over.”
“Who are you to tell us to march down the hill?” snapped Ned. “This is a free country, in case you don’t know it.”
“I know it,” chuckled the mate. “But this here gun of mine don’t know nothing about it! I’ve tried my best to teach the blooming thing, but it’s just naturally ignorant!”
“Who are you?” Don asked.
“Go on down the hill!” commanded the mate, suddenly changing his tone. “The captain will answer all questions.”
There was nothing to do but to obey, so, in silence the boys and the older man walked down the hill, leading their mounts. The crowd below saw them coming and looked on with marked interest. The captain of the attackers strode to the front. He was a tall old man with a white beard and snow white hair, and at sight of him Don caught his breath.
“What have you here, Harvey?” the captain asked.
“This bunch was lying on their tummies and looking over the hill at you,” answered the mate, a twinkle in his eyes.
“Yes, we were, Captain Blow,” said Don, boldly. “How are you, sir?”
Captain Blow, their old friend from Mystery Island, started at hearing his name, and looked closely at Don’s smiling face. He had been their staunch friend at the time they made their summer cruise and captured the marine bandits. Recognition dawned on him and he joyously seized the boy’s hands.
“Why, by jumping Tunket, if it isn’t Don Mercer!” he roared heartily. “What in the name of Goshen are you doing out here, boy?”
Don explained briefly that he was staying with the Scotts at their ranch and then looked around at the sullen captives. “What is all this, Captain Blow?” he asked.
“These fellows are one fine bunch of prison birds who are soon going in their cage!” retorted the captain vigorously. “I’m running a schooner out here, in the carrying trade now, and this Captain Jake Ryan run off with two of my men. Last night I chased them but lost ’em in the storm. Early this morning I saw the wreck and sent my mate there ashore to locate them. When he gave me the signal, from the hill back of where you were looking, we came ashore. He saw you fellows and thought you were part of the enemy.”
Don then introduced the Scotts and told the captain of their search for Jim and Terry. The captain was deeply interested.
“These fellows are part of Sackett’s gang,” he said. “Maybe they know something.” He turned to the scowling Ryan. “Did you have anything to do with two boys?” he asked.
“No!” said Ryan, promptly.
But one of the men who had been liberated by the coming of Captain Blow spoke up quickly. “Yes he did, Captain Blow! Those two boys came aboard yesterday just before the storm, down at the old tannery. And they are still aboard the wreck!”
“How do you know they weren’t swept overboard?” shouted Jake Ryan.
“You know how I know, you scoundrel!” snapped the sailor, shaking his fist in Ryan’s face. “When you stampeded for the lifeboat I saw those two boys duck down behind some canvas and I told you to put back and make ’em come off in the lifeboat, but you was so scared you wouldn’t go back!”
“It’s a lie,” Ryan retorted.
“No it isn’t. Those boys are still on the ship,” said the sailor.
“I guess they decided to stay on the schooner and keep out of the hands of these fellows,” decided Captain Blow. “Too bad they didn’t come right along, and we would have them now. But we’ll probably find them out there.”
“That is once Jim and Terry figured their move wrong,” grinned Don, greatly relieved at the news concerning his chums.
“Yes, but they thought they were doing the correct thing,” put in the professor. “Now, what do you propose to do with these men, Captain Blow?”
Blow turned to his mate. “Harvey, you and the men march these fellows back to the boats and take ’em to the schooner. I’m going out to the wreck with these men and I’ll be back to the ship later. Don’t let one of these rats escape, and we’ll take them to prison.”
“Aye, aye, sir!” replied Harvey. The crew hustled the captives away over the top of the hill and then Captain Blow turned to the party of friends.
“Now we’ll go out and look that wreck over,” he announced. The boat in which the crew of theGallowayhad reached shore was still lying upon the sand, and they all climbed in and pushed off, the old captain, Ned and Don taking the oars. It was the first time that the mestizo had ever been in a boat and he sat gingerly in the bow, holding himself stiffly.
“When did you leave Mystery Island, Captain Blow?” asked Don, as they rowed out to the wreck.
“Early in the spring,” replied the old captain. “When I saw you last I told you that Mystery Island would soon be a regular summer colony, now that the old house and bandits are gone, and sure enough, that is what happened. Got so full of young men with white pants and slicked down hair and young ladies with tootin’ roadsters that my polly and me didn’t have any peace at all. So I came west, got a nice schooner, and am now running between here and Mexico, picking up anything I can get, mostly fruit. I didn’t have any trouble, although I had heard plenty about this Sackett, until a few days ago when this Ryan ran off with two of my men. Kidnapped them in some eating house in San Francisco and I went right after them.”
“I see,” nodded Don. “So Bella, the parrot, is still living?”
“Oh, yup! She’s still sayin’ ‘Bella is a good girl.’ Probably she’ll still be saying that after I’m dead and gone.”
They had now approached the wreck and the captain made fast the painter of the lifeboat. Climbing aboard was somewhat of a task, as the deck sloped dangerously, but by dint of clinging to every support available they managed to do so. But a hasty survey of the deck revealed that the two boys were not on board.
“Maybe they are in the hold,” suggested Ned.
“I doubt that,” replied Captain Blow. “That hold must be full of water. You see, these fellows crowded on all canvas to get away from me and they ran in too close to shore, with the result that they jammed hard and fast aground. The bottom must be stove in plenty and full of water, and the only reason they didn’t sink is because they are sort of lying on a shelf. However, we’ll give a look down the companionway.”
A look down into the hold of the wrecked schooner proved that Captain Blow was right in his surmises. The hold was filled with water and it was manifestly impossible for anyone to have gone down there. Don was worried.
“You don’t suppose they were swept overboard, do you?” he asked, anxiously.
“No,” said the captain promptly. “I don’t. My sailor says they ducked down behind something to keep hidden probably with the idea of escaping all by themselves. My idea is that they grabbed a spar or two, swam to shore, and got away that way. I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if they was even now heading up the shore toward your ranch, professor.”
“I believe you are right, Captain,” replied the professor. “They certainly wouldn’t stay here when there was no necessity for it, and they probably swam ashore, as you say. I think, therefore, that we should go ashore and follow up the coast, in the hope of overtaking them.”
“We ought to overtake them,” said Ned. “We are mounted and they aren’t. No use in wasting any more time around here, is there?”
“No,” Captain Blow answered, slipping down the deck. “Let’s go back.”
On the way to the shore the professor told the captain about the treasure hunt and he was tremendously interested. Once on shore he spoke about going back to his boat.
“I wish you the best of luck,” he told Don. “By thunder mighty! I wouldn’t mind going with you!”
“Why don’t you?” asked Don, quickly. “Can’t your mate sail with these men to the city and stop for you on the return trip? I feel sure that the rest of us would be glad to have you.”
“We surely would!” said Ned and his father, together.
“Why, yes, I guess that would do,” said the captain slowly. “I’d sure like to go along. Will you give me time to go out and tell Harvey what to do?”
They assented and the captain signalled for a boat, which took him off to his schooner. He was gone for about fifteen minutes, and when he came back he had a blanket and some supplies. He joined them and the boat put off once again for the schooner.
“Harvey is in complete charge,” he announced. “He’ll stop for me at Quito on the way back. I’m ready to go now.”
The mestizo surrendered his horse to the captain, who protested vigorously, but the mestizo was a far better hand at trotting along than the old salt, so they arranged to share the horse, and when it was cooler, to ride it double. Feeling that their best plan was to push on back to the ranch they started off, leaving the deserted wreck far behind them.
Jim and Terry looked helplessly at the Mexican overseer as he faced them with levelled rifle and the cool assurance that he would kill them to keep the treasure from the galleon for himself. They tried to believe that he was only joking, but from the set on his face and the glint in his eyes they knew better. All too often in the history of gold hunting and discovery had the discoverers paid for it with their lives, so that someone else could reap the reward.
“But why should you wish to kill us, senor?” Jim asked in Spanish. “Have not we agreed to see that you have a large share in it?”
“How do I know that you will keep your word to me?” the Mexican answered.
“Well, I like that!” cried Jim. “We know how to keep our word, Senor Alaroze!”
“What of it?” returned the overseer, with a slight shrug. “Why should I not have all of it instead of a small part?”
“Oh, well, if you feel that way about it,” said Jim, turning pale.
While Jim had been talking Terry had been doing some rapid thinking. They were standing close to the man, and the extended muzzle of the rifle was within easy reach. Any kind of motion toward it would be sure to be disastrous, and Terry knew it. There was one thing needed and Terry did it. With great coolness, a feeling which he was far from possessing, he looked over the shoulder of the overseer.
“Well,” he said, carelessly. “I guess neither of us will get the treasure. Here comes Sackett and his party.”
He used just the right amount of conviction in his tones and he won. Jim looked away over the Mexican’s shoulder and was fooled as completely as the overseer. With a muttered imprecation the man turned his head slightly to see who was back of him. That motion was his undoing. Quick as a flash Terry’s foot came up in a splendid football kick that sent the rifle flying upward. Before the astonished ranchman could move the red-headed boy flung himself on him and punched him a hard wallop on the stomach. With a groan the Mexican sank to the ground.
“Bully for you, Chucklehead!” cried Jim, springing forward and securing the gun. “Now we have this fellow where we want him!”
They dragged the crestfallen Mexican to his feet and tied his hands behind him with a piece of cord which they had originally tied their clothes to the spars with. He groaned and moaned and begged them to show mercy to him. Terry became impatient.
“Shut up!” he ordered, savagely. “If I hadn’t done that our two bodies would have been lying here right this minute, and here you are crying your head off for mercy! You’re getting a whole lot better than you deserve right now, let me tell you. Don’t howl until you get back to the ranch, then we’ll give you something to howl about.”
Still dazed at their terrible peril the boys started on the journey, placing the cowardly overseer on the horse and following close behind. When darkness came down they made camp, fed the captive without speaking with him, and then made camp for the night, resolving to take turns at keeping watch.
“We can’t let this snake get loose again,” warned Jim. “If he ever gets away, good night!”
“That was the luckiest break we ever had,” said Terry. “If he had been standing any further away I never could have done it.”
Jim took the first watch and Terry the second, during which time the Mexican seemed to sleep calmly. His hands had been untied, so they covered him with the rifle and kept unwavering eyes upon him. In the morning the march was resumed and late in the afternoon they approached the ranch of the Senorita Mercedes.
The senorita was the first to approach and she expressed amazement at the strange sight which they presented as they walked down into the ranch yard. Jim related the story to her and she was deeply interested. Turning to the sullen foreman she upbraided him furiously in Spanish and turned back to the boys.
“He did not go away to look for stray cattle,” she said. “None of my cattle have strayed. I do not know why he left me, but I think he is part of that wicked Sackett band. I think he was only kind to you so he could place you in that man’s hands.”
“By George, I’ll bet that is right!” exclaimed Jim, and Terry nodded.
“Put him in that small shed,” directed the senorita, pointing to a little building which stood at the edge of the ranch yard. “Then come to the house and rest and eat.”
Quite willingly the two boys locked the silent prisoner in the little shed and returned to the ranch house. The energetic little senorita had hot water, soap and towels laid out for them, and they fairly revelled in the washing process.
“When I was a kid,” grinned Terry, “I loved to have a dirty face, but now I know just what luxury it is to feel clean again.”
“Hope I don’t break this comb of the senorita’s trying to comb my tangled hair,” grunted Jim. “I can’t honestly say that we are any beauties to appear at the table of the young lady.”
When they sat down with the youthful and beautiful owner of the little ranch to eat she said: “My men are at present eating, but as soon as they have finished I shall send one of them to Ned’s ranch for your friends.”
“That is very kind of you, Senorita,” murmured Jim, as he ate ravenously.
“Nonsense!” laughed the girl, tossing her head. “You have been through such thrilling adventures of late! Tell me more about them.”
As Jim knew more Spanish than Terry it fell to him to relate the experiences of the past few days. They were lingering over their coffee when an excited ranchman burst into the room. All three at the table rose quickly and the man poured something out in some unknown dialect.
“Ride immediately to the Scott ranch for help!” commanded the senorita, growing pale.
“Alas, senorita, the house is surrounded, I cannot go,” said the man, in Spanish.
“What, is the house surrounded?” asked Jim, quickly.
“Yes,” answered the senorita, rapidly. “This man tells me that Sackett and three men rode down, let Alaroze out, and are creeping to the house. Fly to the doors, quickly!”
Flying was necessary. Terry and Jim hurled the main door of the ranch house shut just in time to keep Sackett and Abel from rushing it. Rapidly, under the direction of the girl, they closed all windows and drew the blinds. Then she gave them each a rifle and took one herself.
“We must watch diligently,” she said, her eyes shining. “They will try to burst in and we must keep them off.”
A shot rang out and a bullet crashed through the front door. Feeling that they would be attacked from more than one side they separated, Jim going to the front of the house and Terry and the senorita keeping watch on the sides. Several shots were fired, all of which did no harm.
It was now very dark and their peril was increased. A concerted rush might blast their hopes and Jim in particular was worried. It would be bad enough to have to surrender to Sackett’s gang, but it would be far worse to have the dainty senorita fall into their hands. He set his teeth and determined that it should not happen. There was complete silence outside, a silence that was not reassuring.
Jim went to the girl where she was crouching beside a window, peering out into the darkness of the yard. He knelt down beside her.
“Is it possible that one of your men could have slipped away to Ned’s ranch?” he asked.
“I am sorry to say no, senor. My man tells me that they were all penned up in their bunkhouse. There is no way we can let our friends know of our danger.”
“I see. They couldn’t see a light from the top of the ranch, could they?”
“No, the hills are too high. We must fight these men off until morning and then see what we can do.”
“If we could only attract Ned’s attention someway,” said Jim. “Watch out, senorita!”
He fairly dragged her away from the window as a shot tore in through the glass and the blinds. She shook him off, but kept away from the exposed part.
“There is nothing—Ah, the tar barrel!” she exclaimed.
“Where is there a tar barrel?” asked Jim, quickly, as Terry fired his rifle out of another window.
“You see that hill?” asked the senorita, pointing to a low mound back of the ranch. “On top of that hill is a barrel which is half full of tar. I have been using it to repair my roofs, and it is half full. If that could only be lighted they would see it at Ned’s ranch.”
“That’s fine!” cried Jim. “I’ll light that tar barrel myself!”
“Senor, you will be killed!”
“Maybe!” said Jim, grimly. “But I’ll start that bonfire, anyway!”
He related his plan to Terry, who warmly assented, and a little later Jim worked his way to a side of the house where there was no shooting. Senorita Mercedes wanted to send her ranchman out on the perilous venture but Jim had opposed it.
“No, I’ll go,” he said. “It means everything to have it succeed, and the man might get scared or bungle it in some way. Let me do it.”
He opened a low window on the quiet side of the house, while Terry stood in the shadows, prepared to shoot down anyone who should loom up. Jim dropped out of the window and lay flat alongside of the house, and after a moment he raised his head. The attacking party was in the front and the rear of the house and he had not been seen. Terry closed the window and watched Jim slide forward along the ground toward the distant barn.
Fortunately the night was dark and Jim had a good opportunity. Using extreme care he reached the barn and then looked toward the hill where the tar barrel stood. The senorita had stood it on the hill because she was afraid of fire and thought it best to keep it away from the ranch building. Bending low Jim ran quickly toward the black barrel and reached it in safety.
Near the house he could see three shadows and he knew that they were Sackett’s men. They had not dreamed that anyone would be foolhardy enough to leave the building and so they waited for a favorable opportunity to rush the doors and break in. They had no intention of doing so as long as those three guns were flashing out viciously.
There were still three flashes from the house and Jim readily saw what had happened. Terry or the senorita had given the ranchman who had brought the news of the attack a gun and he was firing. Probably the attacking party thought Jim was still in the house. Lying flat on the ground Jim took a long piece of paper from his pocket and a box of matches. He placed the papers in the soft tar and lighted it.
The tar caught fire quickly, so quickly that Jim was bathed for a second in its light. He had made no plans for a retreat, and as the tar barrel burst into flames he was clearly revealed.
A shout arose from the men who were attacking the house and they sprang recklessly from cover and dashed toward him. This piece of carelessness cost them dearly, for the senorita and Terry each brought one man down with accurate shots in the legs. At the same time Jim sprinted for the corner of the barn and crouched there, his rifle held in readiness to bring down anyone who should attempt to put out the blazing beacon.
Higher and higher blazed the barrel with its cargo of tar, sending its light for several miles over the surrounding countryside. The outlaws had now rushed back to cover, to consider what move to make next.
“I surely hope the others are at Ned’s and that they see that light,” thought Jim fervently, as he waited in his position back of the barn.
Professor Scott, the captain, Don and Ned were all sitting around a fire in the living room discussing the next move to be made. To their intense disappointment they had not found the missing boys upon their return to the ranch, nor had they come across a single trace on their homeward journey. They had just decided that a more vigorous hunt must be started in the morning when Yappi hastily entered the living room.
“There is a large fire at the ranch of Senorita Mercedes, senor,” he informed Ned.
The young man jumped to his feet in dismay. “Oh, I hope those fellows haven’t set her ranch on fire!” he groaned. “Let’s see what is up.”
The entire party ran to the back door and looked across the plains in the direction of the Mercedes ranch. Just as the mestizo had said, the sky in that direction was red and they could see the flames against the sky. But it was several feet south of the house.
“It isn’t the house,” decided Ned. “Perhaps they are just burning some old rubbish.”
“Why should she select a hilltop to burn rubbish on?” asked the professor, sensibly. “Does she usually burn things at night?”
“No,” admitted Ned. “There must surely be something wrong. Yappi, the horses!”
The mestizo sprang around the house and went to the barn, from which he soon led mounts for all of them. He was instructed to stay at the ranch with the cook, in case the boys should return, and then the others threw themselves on the animals and started off. Ned and Don rode well in front, their anxiety making them impatient, while the professor and the captain, who were not riders of note, lagged somewhat.
It was not a long journey to the ranch of the senorita, but to the boys it seemed long, and when at last they ascended the last hill they drew a breath of relief. They were now near enough to see that the blazing beacon was a tar barrel, and the circumstances became more puzzling than ever. But before they had much time to wonder about it they had topped the rise and were looking down on the scene below.
The light from the blazing barrel showed them a curious scene. The outlaws had realized that they must make one last desperate assault, and at the present moment they were making it. Four men were close to the front door, flat in the yard, a log rolled before them as a shield, over which they were firing at the door, splintering the wood badly. They were rolling the log before them as they advanced, and hoped in this manner to get close enough to the door to make a determined rush. From the interior of the house came occasional flashes of fire from three rifles and from the corner of the barn came another.
While the relief party was taking this in the professor and the captain joined them. The attacking party had not yet become aware of their presence, and seeing that the moment was favorable Ned and Don charged down the hill, the older men following. A single shot, fired by Ned, told Sackett and company that help had arrived, and without even stopping to offer resistance they fled in every direction.
The captain instantly discharged his gun at one of the fleeing men and he went down in a heap. The professor shot Abel in the shoulder and Ned and Don pounced on the same man, springing from their horses upon the man. The fourth man, who was Sackett, ran to the thicket, made a single bound into his saddle, and thundered away, passing close to Jim in his corner of the barn, who fired at him but missed in the excitement.
Jim looked for an instant after the fleeing outlaw and then dashed around the barn and entered it. The horses stood there, moving restlessly, and he selected a fine looking steed and hastily saddled it. Leading it from the barn he mounted and started off with all speed after Sackett.
The slim edge of a moon was rising above the horizon and by its somewhat sickly light Jim was able to follow the course of the bay pirate. The man was making straight for the mountain and felt confident that he would make it, but he was soon undeceived. The horse which Jim had selected from the stables of the senorita was a high strung, fiery animal, and he was eager to run. Jim needed no spur to keep him at top speed, and the lead which the bandit had held was steadily cut down.
Seeing that he could not make the mountains before the pursuing boy was well within gunshot the outlaw made for a patch of trees that stood nearby. They were a little more than a mile before him, and consisted of a fairly dense tangle of low bushes and trees. His idea was probably to make a last stand there, Jim decided, and the race settled down grimly in that direction.
Once Sackett turned and fired at Jim, but the shot went wide of the mark, for the ground was uneven and the distance too great for accuracy. From that time on he gave his attention to the task of escaping, bending low over the neck of his steed and urging it on. The patch of trees was now very near and Sackett well in the lead.
The outlaw drove his horse into the shelter of the little refuge at headlong speed and vanished from Jim’s sight. Jim pulled the steed to a halt and paused uncertainly. Sackett was in the thicket and armed, and he knew better than to recklessly dash on. If his theory was right the pirate was waiting for him to do that very thing, and it would be the worst move he could make. So he sat quietly in the saddle, wondering what his next move should be.