As may be imagined the boys watched the chase with an interest that was painful. The outcome of it meant everything to them. They had no idea who could be on the pursuing schooner, but whoever it was would be sure to release them if they overhauled theGalloway. When the crew of the schooner ran out a small cannon Terry whistled in surprise.
“This is no comedy,” he remarked. “These fellows mean business.”
The sky to the south had turned an ominous black and the wind was now shrieking through the shrouds of the schooner. Cursing aloud Ryan ordered sail taken in, and the crew sprang aloft, running along the ropes in a way that took away the breath of the watching boys. The oncoming schooner was also forced to take in canvas but it did not give up the chase. The waves, an hour ago, so calm and peaceful, were now mountain high, raging and boiling along the sides of the laboring ship.
“History repeats itself!” exclaimed Jim, suddenly.
“What do you mean?” blinked Terry.
“Why, it’s just like the story of the galleon! We are being pursued by an enemy and a storm is surely going to close over us! See the point?”
“Yes, I do. Confound this storm, anyway! If it wasn’t for it I believe those fellows in back would overtake us!” cried Terry.
“I never saw a storm come up so rapidly,” said Jim.
In that part of the Pacific storms rise with incredible swiftness and it was such a storm, half cyclonic, as now burst over the pursued and the pursuer. In a twinkling of an eye the ship to the rear vanished from sight as theGallowaystaggered into a yawning trough. The boys had all they could do to hang on as the deck slanted under their feet, and they were soaked to the waist by the wash that flooded the deck. A single slashing flash of lightening flared in the sky.
“Do you think we had better go below, so as not to be washed overboard?” shouted Terry above the whine of the wind.
“Nothing doing!” roared Jim, his voice sounding like a whisper above the crash of the waves. “I wouldn’t miss this for anything!”
So they hung on to the rear mast and the ropes, keenly alive to the picture of action which was going on before them. They could see the men busy at the sails, pulling ropes, furling, lashing fast and jumping as the skipper signalled his commands. They had been forgotten in the excitement of the storm, and so were free to watch what was going on. They knew that the pursuing schooner would never haul down on them now.
The captain was at the wheel helping the helmsman, and between the two of them they could scarcely control the wild plunging of the schooner. The boys watched with fascination as wave after wave reared up before the schooner, to curl and break over the bow and come thundering over the deck in a mad swirl. At such times they were wet to the waist but they did not mind that, so interested were they in the events of the moment. Their hands ached from holding onto ropes but they stuck to their perilous post.
“They are running in too close to the shore!” shouted Terry in Jim’s ear.
“They should know the coast well enough to do it,” Jim returned.
He had scarcely spoken when there was a slight scraping and grinding sound and the men at the wheel spun the helm rapidly. TheGallowayswung further away from the shore, listing dangerously as it did so. One of the crew ran down the companionway and reappeared soon afterward, making his way to the captain.
“She scraped a ledge that time,” called Jim and Terry nodded.
It was now so black that the boys could scarcely see before them. The captain spoke rapidly with the man, who was the mate, and the officer quickly singled one or two men from the crew and then made his way over the bounding lurching deck to the boys. Placing his wet mouth near their ears he shouted: “Get on the pumps! We’re leaking!”
Without loss of time the boys followed him across the deck to where the pumps were located. Two men had already seized the handle of one pump and were bending their backs to the task, pumping up and down with all their strength. At a signal from the mate the two boys took hold of the handle of a second pump and fell to the urgent task.
A thick stream of water shot out of the end of the pump and they knew that the lower part of the schooner was filling rapidly with water. It seemed to them that there was no use in pumping, but they realized that it was their only chance. No life-boat could live in those seas and it was a case of keep the ship from going down under their feet under the added weight of the water that was pouring into the hold, where a seam had been opened up by the ledge over which they had scraped. So they worked with a will, moving the handle up and down, until their backs, totally unused to the work, ached with the tiring strain of it. A continual stream of water rushed from the mouth of the pump with every stroke.
They were soon gasping for breath and both of them longed for the moment when two other men would relieve them. The two on the other pump kept at it grimly, somewhat more used to the work, moving automatically, unmindful of the stinging waves that slapped them from each side. The schooner pitched and rolled and bucked, now on top of a wave and now sinking deep into a trough.
To their unspeakable relief they saw two more men approach with the mate to take over their task. The captain had realized that they would not last long at the cruel task, and had sent relief. The men were coming toward them, were almost to them.
There was a sharp grinding sound and the schooner crashed hard aground. Every man who was standing went over like a stick of wood. Down came the rigging in a tumbled, confused mass, the forward mast snapped off sharp, the bow seemed to crumple like paper. Terry and Jim were torn from the pump handle and hurled through the air, to land like playthings in a smother of foam and swirling water. All became black in an instant, there was a sucking sound and the schooner settled down in the water with a shudder.
Don’s grave statement to the effect that Jim and Terry might have fallen into the hands of Sackett was received with a gloomy degree of conviction by the others. They knew that the outlaws had fled somewhere across the mountains, and it was very likely that they had run across the trail of the two boys in their flight. The professor spoke up.
“We must lose no time in following them,” he declared, with spirit.
“The rest of us will follow them,” said Ned. “You had better go back to the ranch, dad.”
“Why should I go back?” demanded the professor.
“You must be tired. You had a long ride yesterday and didn’t sleep much last night. You and Yappi go back to the ranch and we’ll push on after Jim and Terry.”
“I’m going with you,” declared the professor, stoutly. “I’m no child! Don’t you think I have any interest in finding the boys and running this gang down? I would be mighty restless back on the ranch. So let’s start.”
After some further discussion they struck off in the direction last taken by the missing boys and rode up the mountain, keeping a careful lookout as they did so. They spread out in fan fashion, keeping close enough together so as to call back and forth. It was sometime in the afternoon when Yappi called out and the others closed in and joined him.
The mestizo was off his horse, standing close to the ashes of a fire which had evidently been out for some hours. They were all of the opinion that Terry and Jim had built the fire and had spent the night beside it.
“The question is now where they went from here,” mused the professor.
Ned was searching the nearby bushes and he set up a shout. “There were others here last night, too,” he announced.
Upon inspection they found the bushes beaten down by the hoofs of horses, but at first Don was not convinced. “This is probably where they tied up their own horses,” he said.
“Other horse over here,” replied the mestizo, gravely.
On the other side of the clearing they found the traces of other horses. There had been two parties, or else one spot marked the location of the missing boys’ horses and the other that of the second party. The professor was sure that Sackett and his men had come down on them in the night while they slept. And later all doubt was laid aside when Ned found a big foot print in the soft sand.
“Neither Jim nor Terry made that,” he said, with conviction.
The others agreed with him, and by careful tracing they found that the party had gone down the mountain toward the sea. They followed the trail for at least a half mile and then lost it on some rocky ground, but they were satisfied that they were on the right track.
“They are heading for the sea,” Ned said. “Perhaps they have some kind of a boat down there. Well, we might as well get right on the trail.”
“Looks like a bad storm coming up,” cried Don.
The sun had long since been lost in a slow gloom which had come in from the sea, and the air was hot and still. Heavy black clouds were rolling in from the south, and there was an almost ominous stillness in the air. Far away they heard the low rolling of thunder off at sea.
“It may be a bad one,” admitted Ned, as he studied the sky. “We don’t have many storms in this region, but when we do get one it generally amounts to something. Well, we’ll push on until we have to stop.”
They had gone perhaps a mile along the mountain, working down toward the sea, when the leaves of the trees began to stir with increasing force. Secretly, Ned was worried, for he knew the strength of some of the storms his country was subject to, and he would have welcomed some sort of shelter. Just as he was beginning to think it best that they find shelter in the lee of some big rock Yappi called to him in Spanish. The ranchman had sighted an Indian hut just before them in the woods.
They rode up to the place, to find a withered old Yuqui Indian sitting on a crude bench at his door. He was engaged at the task of weaving a basket, and he looked up unemotionally as they drew up before his door. The hut back of him was a simple round affair, made of rough wood held together with a clay filling, which showed between the logs. Two windows, neatly glassed with glass which had been procured in some town nearby, and a single door alone broke the monotonous expanse of rough wood. A single chimney protruded from the top of the hut.
At a nod from Ned Yappi addressed the Indian in his native dialect, but it turned out that the Yuqui was very familiar with Spanish. Yappi told him that they wished shelter during the oncoming storm, and the old man, without showing pleasure or displeasure on his lined old face, replied that what he had they were welcome to. No sooner had he finished his statement than the rain began to descend in torrents.
The white men slipped from their horses quickly, Yappi took the bridles and led the horses to the shelter of a nearby leanto which the Indian had, and the whole party entered the hut. The Indian slipped in before them and was heaping wood on the small fire which burned in his fireplace, and as the flames shot up they had time to look around the hut. It was an interesting place.
There was a woven mat on the floor, a bed in one corner, and a rough table and chair in the center of the room. On the wall was hung a splendid bow and a sheaf of arrows, several baskets such as the one which the Yuqui had been weaving, and an Indian headdress. That portion of the floor which was not covered with a mat was neatly carpeted with leaves. The fireplace was constructed of hard clay. The entire hut was neat and orderly.
“The strangers are welcome,” said the Indian, as he sat beside the fire.
Ned thanked him gravely and for a few moments nothing more was said. They sat and listened to the fury of the storm outside. The wind hissed and slapped against the windows and the sides of the hut, the wind moaned overhead and the sky had become inky black. Don was worried.
“I hope Jim and Terry aren’t anywhere exposed in this storm,” he said.
“I don’t think so,” Ned hastened to assure him. “Those fellows know the sign as well as we do, and they must have dug for shelter. The fellows are all right, and we’ll hit the trail as soon as we can.”
The Indian was looking at them earnestly, and the professor, who could speak Spanish quite well, took it upon himself to tell him the circumstances. The old man listened intently and then nodded.
“I am a sage,” he said proudly. “I tell you that you shall find them. Yengi is my name.”
The visitors were silent, not knowing how to take this abrupt declaration. Yappi talked rapidly with the sage and seemed impressed.
“Yengi is a wise man,” he told Ned. “What he says is true. Long has he dwelt in these mountains, and his ancestors dwelt here before he did.”
The Indian sage nodded and addressed the whole party. “He speaks truth. For many generations my people have lived in this land. But not here in this mountain. I live here alone. My people lived far to the south, on a broad plain, until the people in beautiful clothes came. Those were the Spanish. They drove some of our people into slavery and killed others, and because we were few in number we were compelled to flee to the mountains and hide like wild beasts. My fathers told me.”
The fire had died down, the storm still beat outside, and the white men were silent as they listened to the simple but tragic story of the Indian sage. They knew that his tale was only too true, for they had read many times of such things, the professor being well versed in the history of the Spanish conquest of the southern part of America. It was a moving experience to hear it now from the lips of a descendent of the persecuted race that suffered so many centuries ago. Ned, the professor and Yappi understood perfectly what the sage was saying, and Don knew enough of Spanish to follow him without trouble.
The professor was smoking his pipe, so the sage reached into a niche beside the fireplace, took out a long crude Indian pipe and gravely lighted it. He smoked awhile in silence and then went on: “But my fathers had revenge.”
No one said anything and he puffed once or twice and then went on: “The English were our saviors. They chased the Spanish from our coasts. But I spoke to you about the revenge that my fathers took. One day in the long ago there was a storm and a Spanish ship fled from the English and was wrecked somewhere on the coast. I do not know where, but the men from the ship came straggling past our hidden village in the fastness of the mountain. My fathers saw them and ambushed them, slaying all of them, allowing only a priest to go free. He had been kind to some Indians once and his life was spared. He had with him a book and he was led to the sea coast, where he took ship to Mexico and was never seen more.”
Yengi looked up as there was a stir among his hearers, and he was astonished to see them regarding him eagerly. He took his pipe out of his mouth in astonishment.
“These men that your fathers killed came from a wrecked ship?” asked the professor eagerly.
“Yes, so they told my fathers. Why does that excite you so?”
Ned told the sage that they knew the story of the wrecked galleon and that there was supposed to be much treasure in the wrecked ship. The Indian was sure that the men must have come from that very ship, but beyond that he was not helpful.
“I do not know where the ship could be,” he told them. “The men, with the exception of the priest with the book, were all killed. They never went back, but the priest may have returned for the gold.”
“As long as the priest had a book, that must surely have been the crew,” said Don.
But the professor shook his head. “The book which the priest had may have been his own Bible, or some other book. It couldn’t have been the written story of the wreck, for you must remember that it was written after the storm and wreck and after the men were killed.”
“I see,” nodded Don, somewhat cast down. “But you have no doubt that it was the galleon’s crew, have you?”
“Oh, none at all,” returned the professor. “The story is too closely allied to the one we know to be at all doubtful. It seems to me that if we can get the Indian here to take us to the spot where the crew was killed that would be somewhere near where the galleon struck. At least, we would be in the immediate neighborhood, and not all at sea, as we are now.”
“But how about losing time in the hunt for the boys?” suggested Ned.
“We can get some idea of the location and then push on after the boys,” said the professor. He turned to the Yuqui and asked him if he would lead them to the spot where the men from the ship were killed.
“I have seen the place,” nodded the Indian. “I will show it to you.”
“If we find the treasure through your help we will give you a share of it,” promised Ned.
The Indian waved his hand impatiently. “Gold is cursed,” he said, sternly. “Yengi has wisdom, which is more than gold. I wish none of it.”
The party was impatient to start out but when night came on the storm had abated but little and they accepted the Indian’s invitation to stay with him all night. They ate together and sat around the fire talking, the Indian telling them many more stories of his race in their glory, himself astonished at the learning of the professor. He found it hard to believe that the professor had learned so much from books.
At last they lay down and wrapped themselves in their blankets, Don breathing a prayer for the safety of his brother and his chum before they fell asleep. It had been agreed that they would leave early in the morning to look at the spot where the old Indian village had stood and from there they would push on to the sea in the search for the missing boys. Yengi, who knew the country much better than even Yappi did, was to go with them and lend his valuable aid. With many varied conjectures in their minds as to what the morrow would bring forth the whole party soon became quiet in sleep, the professor very nearly exhausted by the events of the past two days.
When the morning dawned the party was not slow to spring into action, but quick as they were their host was up before them. He was preparing breakfast at the fire and greeted them with quiet dignity. Before eating Ned and Don looked outside, to find a day somewhat better than the one before it had been, but still showing the effects of the storm. Sullen gray clouds passed overhead, impelled by the wind which was driving forward steadily, and the ground was still muddy from the rain which had fallen heavily. They were certain to escape the exhausting heat which had lately hindered them, and thankful for this circumstance the boys went in and enjoyed Yengi’s breakfast.
The horses were saddled and without loss of time the company set out. The Indian closed his door but did not lock it, saying that no one would be likely to enter his place during his absence. They struck off to the south, following the sage and Yappi, who rode well to the front.
The horses found the going a little difficult, as the ground was slippery, and the men soaked their trouser legs as they scraped past bushes and small shrubs. This condition of affairs did not last long, for they soon rode down out of the mountains and reached the level plain. Here the going was much better and they went off at a brisk trot, heading for a furrowed section of uplands which they could see some miles before them.
During the journey they kept a sharp look-out for their missing companions, but no sign was seen of any living being as they went on. One or two large jack-rabbits crossed their path and Yappi brought one down, stowing it in a bag behind his saddle for some future meal. The act was opportune, for they had now run out of provisions and would have to depend in the future on whatever they brought down with their guns.
Don was in a curious state of mind as they travelled on. He was anxious about Jim and Terry, and the thought that he might be going further away from them with each mile was not a pleasing one. But they had no definite clue as to the whereabouts of the others, and one direction was as good as another. All of them felt that they had made for the coast, but just where on the coast they had no idea. It was simply a matter of keeping going, and watching carefully for the slightest sign which would send them in the right direction.
Before noon they arrived at the place where the old Indian village had been and where the Spanish crew, probably from the galleon, had been killed. The village had stood in a slight basin, hidden in a convenient roll of the sheltering foothills, and there was now but little to tell that there had ever been a village there. All trace of the huts which had once been there was lost, but several places in the hills, hollowed out of the volcanic dykes, showed that someone had once lived there. Some low mounds marked the burial places of the ancient Indians.
The sage pointed to the south. “From that direction the men came,” he said, his dull eyes kindling as he thought of the glory of his former race. “The village in which my fathers lived was originally there, but they lived here in order to flee into the mountains when the Spaniards came. It was here that the crew of the great ship were killed, and afterward my people scattered, leaving a few of my race in the hills and the mountains.”
They looked around the spot with interest and discussed the possibilities. Some miles east of them lay the sea, and Ned argued that the creek up which the galleon had sailed could not be far off. He would have liked to have set out for it at once, but realizing that the task of finding the missing boys was of far greater importance he smothered his desire, resolved to return some day and strike off from that spot.
“The Spaniards were evidently heading for the mountains at the time that they fell into the hands of the Indians,” the professor said.
“Why should they head for the mountains?” Don asked. “Wouldn’t they have been more likely to have kept to the shore, in the hope of being picked up by another ship?”
“I don’t think so,” replied the professor. “They may have intended to make their way over the mountains to Mexico, or they may have feared the Indians with good cause, for their cruelties made the Indians eager to lay hands on them. Probably they feared the very thing that did befall them.”
“Well, now that we have at least marked the portion of the country where the crew appeared, let’s get on,” suggested Ned. “In all my searching I fell short of this region by a good twenty-five miles, and this will help me get my bearings. Evidently the spot of the wreck is still some miles to the south, but I think we should be able to come across it when we have more leisure to look around.”
“What is your thought?” inquired Professor Scott. “Shall we strike down to the coast?”
“I think so,” nodded Ned. “Then we can beat up the coast toward the ranch, keeping our eyes open for the boys. Surely they didn’t go any further south than this.”
“Possibly not,” Don put in. “We can’t tell, but I feel we should go to the shore and see if we can pick up anything there.”
They now said goodbye to the sage, who did not feel inclined to go any further with them. He was used to solitude and did not care to mix in with their problems and adventures, and he refused any pay for his hospitality or information. He once more expressed his belief that they would be fortunate in their search and then gravely turned his horse’s head back to his mountains, seemingly no longer interested in what went on. With feelings of warmest gratitude for him the party from the ranch went on their journey toward the coast.
The coast was reached in the afternoon and they began to head north, watching both land and sea for any trace of the missing boys. Hunger at last caused them to halt while Yappi prepared and cooked the rabbit which he had killed, and the others enjoyed the meat of the little animal. As soon as this simple repast was completed they once more moved on.
“What are we to do if we don’t find them on this trip?” asked Don.
“We’ll have to go to San Diego, recruit a good-sized force and hunt Sackett from one end of Lower California to the other,” replied Ned, grimly. “And we may have to get the proper Mexican officials on the job, too. You see, it is possible that Sackett may have carried them off to Mexico, and if that is the case we’ll have a fine time locating them. But we’ll leave no stone unturned to do it, you may be sure.”
“And in the meantime we’ll leave Yappi at the ranch in case any news of them should come there,” the professor suggested.
Yappi was riding ahead and was just topping a small rise when they saw him slip from the back of his horse and lie flat on the ground. He motioned to them to dismount and they did so, wondering. Cautiously they moved up beside him and looked over the brow of the small hill into the vale below.
The sight that met their eyes astonished them. Off to their left was the sea, not now the calm Pacific, but a tumbling, boiling stretch of water, still showing the effects of the storm. An eighth of a mile off shore a schooner lay on its side, the black expanse of the hull showing above the water, a portion of the keel rising out of the waves. The ship had evidently run aground during the storm, for there was a gaping hole in the bow and the masts were snapped off short, the rigging strewing the deck and trailing into water. But it was the sight of several men in the hollow below which drew their greatest attention.
The men were members of the crew of the schooner and they were at present gathered around a small fire. They had been wet and bedraggled and were gathered close to the fire as though their only concern was to get warm. Some of the crew had gathered wood and lay it piled high nearby. No one was keeping watch and the party on the hill top had not been seen.
“Jim and Terry aren’t there,” whispered Don, in disappointment.
They were not, and Ned was about to advise that they pass on, when Yappi seized his arm and pointed to a spot some half mile down the shore, to the north of the men. To their astonishment they perceived another schooner, standing at anchor in a cove, and a boat was putting out from that schooner and making for the shore. The second schooner was in good condition and had apparently not suffered from the storm.
“It looks to me as though those fellows were after the men below,” the professor said, in a low tone.
They watched the boat from the schooner discharge its load of men, who immediately took to the shelter of a friendly hill and made their way silently toward the party which sat around the fire. The oncoming men were led by a tall old man with white hair, who seemed to have full authority, for the sailors, who were an orderly looking lot in comparison with the crew below, obeyed his every gesture. They crept nearer the unsuspecting men below until they were on a hilltop opposite from the ranch party.
“Why,” murmured Ned. “I think we are going to witness a battle!”
Scarcely had he spoken than the old captain waved his hand and his band rushed down on the men who were seated around the fire. Their coming was totally unexpected and the crew from the wrecked schooner sprang to its feet in dismay. The men from the second schooner fell on them bodily and a free-for-all fight began, a fight that was short-lived, for the second crew were superior in number and moreover, was armed. After a few knock-downs the wretched crew was overcome and all neatly tied up by their attackers.
“Well, I must say I don’t understand this,” said the professor. “I wonder which one of the parties is in the right?”
“I don’t know,” answered Ned. “But we’ve got to go down and ask them if anything has been learned of Sackett or the boys. But I am not sure but what we are running our heads into some sort of a trap.”
The mestizo had been following the events below with absorbed interest and had forgotten everything else. He turned to speak to the others. But instead of speaking at them he stared back of them, and then, with a motion like that of a cat, he made a quick dive for his rifle, which was laying beside him.
It seemed to Jim that he was under tons of water and that everything around him was a roaring whirl of confusion. His lungs were filled with water and close to bursting when he finally gained a breath of fresh air after expelling the water from his lungs. He was still on the deck of theGalloway, crumpled up against the deckhouse and half buried in the wash which still swept across the deck.
His first act was to stagger weakly to his feet and look for Terry. He was relieved to see the well known red-head emerge from behind some lashed-down canvas on the deck, and a moment later the boy was staggering toward him, furiously blinking his eyes. To their surprise they found that the deck of the schooner was tilted on a decided angle and that the starboard rail was well under water.
The schooner had run hard aground and had settled on its side. One or two of the crew had been swept over the side and lost, the whole thing having happened so quickly that no aid could be given them. The rest of the men were picking themselves up from the deck and looking dazedly around, uncertain as to the next move. Captain Ryan shouted orders which could be heard above the din and the men worked their way over the sloping deck to the large life boat which was hanging at the port side.
Terry started to follow them but Jim grasped his arm, placing his mouth close to his ear. “Wait a minute,” he said. “Let them go!”
“Aren’t you going with them?” asked Terry, astonished.
Jim shook his head. “Let’s stay here. I don’t think this ship is going to sink, and we can make our escape. Let’s duck behind the wheelhouse.”
Terry was a bit bewildered but he followed Jim’s lead in crouching out of sight. “Do you think it is safe?” he asked. “Those fellows are leaving the schooner, and they should know if it isn’t going to sink.”
“Those fellows are scared to death,” Jim said. “They have forgotten about us and the only thing they have in mind is to get to shore. I don’t think the ship will go under because it is too firmly grounded. We can give them time to get to the shore and when the storm lets up we can get ashore ourselves. Remember, if we don’t want to make a long trip to Mexico, we must get away from here.”
“You are right there,” murmured Terry. “Did you get hurt any in the crack?”
“Got a bruise on my shoulder, that’s all. Look, there goes the crew.”
The crew had jumped into the life boat and had pushed it away from the schooner’s side. Captain Ryan gave one sweeping look around the wrecked ship as the boys hastily ducked from sight, and satisfied that they had been swept overboard and drowned, he gave the order to pull for shore. The men settled to it with a will, and before many minutes had passed the boys lost sight of them in the gloom which hung over the sea and blotted out the shore.
Terry stood up and looked around. “Alone at last, as the song says. Wonder if we are the only ones on board?”
“I think so,” Jim replied, looking rapidly around. “Is there any other boat aboard?”
A thorough search convinced them that there was no other boat on the wreck. They tried to get down into the hold to look around, but it was filled with water. The schooner would have sunk like a shot except that it had folded up on a rock and was held there. Jim noted that the rail was going deeper into the water with the passage of time.
“We’ll have to get off in some manner,” he told his companion. “I think the ship is slowly turning over, at least it is going to settle completely on its side. But as to how to get off is the problem.”
Terry peered off toward the shore, over the heaving water. “The blow has gone down considerably,” he said. “The shore isn’t far off, you can see it. Do you think you could make it by swimming?”
“I think I could,” replied Jim, after considering. “How about you?”
“I could if I had something to hang onto and get a breathing spell once in awhile,” Terry thought.
“Well, we can settle that. We can lash a couple of spars together and use them for resting stations. Goodness knows that there are enough spars around.”
They secured two large spars and roped them together firmly. Shedding all of their clothing except those absolutely necessary for use on shore they were about to leave the ship when Jim was struck with an idea.
“We can take along all of our clothes by tying them on the spars,” he said.
They tied all of their clothes to the top of the spar and threw it into the foaming sea, which had abated in force considerably during the last twenty minutes. Realizing that the men would be on shore directly ahead of them and not wishing to fall into their clutches they decided to head for a point further down the shore, and with this plan in mind they dove off together, landing with a rush in the stinging salt water. When they bobbed up and shook the water out of their eyes they saw the spars a few feet before them. They struck out for the rude craft and each boy passed one arm over it, propelling with the other.
In this manner the spars kept progress with them in their attempt to escape to the shore, and when they became tired, which was often in the long struggle, they hung onto the spars and rested. They knew better than to waste breath in idle talk, so no word was spoken during the fight for shore. Jim was a better swimmer than the red-headed boy, but Terry grimly stuck it out, and after a half hour battle they landed on the shore, almost exhausted.
Terry splashed his way up to the beach, collapsing in a heap on the wet sand, but Jim, blown as he was, had presence of mind enough to take the clothing off of the raft and look around them. The storm was blowing itself out and the sky growing lighter, but as there was no sight of the men nearby Jim soon lay down beside his companion and rested gratefully. They had drifted a mile or more down the shore in their swim and felt reasonably safe from capture.
Jim was the first to sit up and he looked keenly around. They were in a lonely section of coast country, uninhabited and infinitely dreary. He wondered what the next best plan should be, and asked Terry. Both felt that it would be foolish to go back toward the ranch directly, and both agreed that it would be foolish to go south.
“That means we push inland,” Terry nodded.
“Yes, that is all that we can do. And we are in one fine shape to do that, I must say! No weapons, no matches, and not a thing to eat! If we don’t fall into somebody’s hands we’ll starve,” said Jim.
“It does look tough from every angle,” Terry agreed. He got up and wrung the water out of his trousers and shirt. “I’m pretty tired, but I suppose we ought to get moving, eh?”
“I think so. At least we should get away from the coast. Maybe when we get inland we can find some place to put up for the night, some hollow or something. After a good night’s sleep we should be able to cover a lot of ground.”
“Little Terry hasn’t been bad, but he has to go to bed without his supper!” the red-headed boy grimaced, as they started inland.
They walked slowly, keeping a sharp lookout, but met no one in their journey. They meant to make a long half circle in their return, planning to avoid the party from the schooner and Sackett’s henchmen. There was also the possibility that they might run across their own party, who they felt was surely looking for them. But the present object was to find some protected shelter and hide away for the night.
Evening was close upon them when Jim suddenly pulled Terry down behind a bush. He pointed to the right and whispered to his chum.
“A man, over there!”
Terry looked, to see a lone traveler encamped in a small hollow some little distance from them. The man was seated beside a small fire, busily engaged in frying something in a small pan. His horse, a beautiful black animal, was grazing on the short grass nearby, and the man’s rifle stood close at hand. Terry turned to Jim with a satisfied air.
“There’s my supper!” he announced, pointing to the pan in the man’s hand.
“Don’t be too sure of that,” Jim warned. “We want to be mighty careful who we walk up to.”
“Say, you don’t think every human being in this country belongs to Sackett’s gang, do you?” asked Terry.
“I suppose not,” Jim gave in. “Shall we walk up and announce ourselves?”
“We’ll walk up and reserve a table!” grinned Terry. “That pan excites me; let’s go!”
They advanced toward the man, who did not see them coming until they were barely twenty yards from him. Then he looked up and they saw that he was a Mexican. He gave a slight start and reached for his gun, but allowed his fingers to slide from the stock as he continued to look at them. At the same time the boys recognized him.
“It is Alaroze, the overseer of Senorita Mercedes ranch!” cried Jim, and Terry nodded.
Seeing that he was recognized the Mexican broke into a smile and welcomed them in Spanish. He was frankly puzzled at their strange and uncouth appearance, but he did not ask any questions. Jim, who could speak fair Spanish, told him that they had taken a trip down the coast in a ship and had been cast ashore, feeling that it would not be wise to tell too much. When the Mexican had heard their story he expressed himself as being deeply grieved and hastened to offer them food. He had some beans and bread and seemed to have a plentiful supply with him, so the boys were not averse to taking what he offered.
They sat down and gratefully ate what he set before them. The overseer talked rapidly, smiling, rebuilding the fire and insisted upon cooking them more of his provisions. Once when he was out of earshot Terry spoke out of the corner of his mouth.
“He isn’t a half-bad fellow, this Alaroze. I didn’t think I liked him at the ranch, but he surely is treating us royally now.”
“He certainly is,” agreed Jim, heartily. “We’ll see to it that he never regrets it.”
Finally the Mexican sat down and ate with them and afterward smoked cigaret after cigaret as he talked with them. He did not seem to be inquisitive as to the whereabouts of the others, in fact, Jim was more curious than the foreman, for presently he asked him what he was doing so far away from the Mercedes ranch.
“I am looking for stray cattle,” the overseer said. “Many of them have wandered away of late and I am looking for them.”
It was growing dark now and they made a large fire, before which the boys dried their dripping clothes. The three companions agreed to head back for the ranch of the senorita on the following day and to go from there to the Scott ranch. Jim and Terry warmly thanked the overseer for his supper and hospitality, but the Mexican was effusively modest about it.
Quite early the three of them turned in, the Mexican lingering for some little time after the boys. He sat beside the fire, still smoking his inexhaustible cigarets, looking out into the blackness of the night. He seemed to have no fear of anyone. The boys lay under the shelter of some sandy banks, for the Mexican had but one blanket, and just before they fell asleep they looked at the lone figure near the fire.
“Lucky thing for us that we fell in with him,” Jim commented.
“Right you are,” Terry returned. “He certainly has been fine to us. I’m just about sorry I ever distrusted him.”
“You can’t go by looks,” said Jim. “But I don’t think he is pushing his search for those stray cattle very vigorously.”
“Well, you know how lazy most of these Mexicans are,” Terry yawned. “Probably just taking his own sweet time.”
“Funny he should be out looking for them, instead of the other cowboys,” Jim went on. “I should think that he would be needed at the ranch.”
“Maybe it is his personality that counts,” grinned Terry. “He may attract the cows and bring ’em home that way. I don’t care how he does it. I’m going to sleep.”
Both boys fell into a deep sleep. The Mexican sat motionless beside the fire for some time longer. Once he turned and looked toward the boys, at the same time smiling at some thought which was passing through his head. His teeth gleamed for a second and then his face once more became impassive. Shortly after that he rolled himself up in his blanket and fell asleep.