CHAPTER IVTHE INVADERS
Themoon had risen and was casting a pale, greenish radiance over the picturesque little town, when the seven, who had been seated on the spacious veranda of a restaurant, reluctantly decided that it was time to go. Under the magic of the soft illumination the harshness of line and color had departed. Even the grim-looking grain elevator near the railroad tracks, a flat mass of bluish gray rising against a luminous sky, wore an aspect of calm serenity which fitted well into a scene full of silvery lights and mysterious shadows.
“Ah, how superb is nature,” sighed Dave.
“What a superb meal we had,” chuckled Don.
“An’ what a superb ride is before us,” chimed in Cranny.
He was the first to dash down the wooden steps, the first to spring into the saddle, andhe also led the procession of riders which presently swung into the broad white road.
Waving their hands in response to salutations from several interested spectators, the boys allowed the mustangs to break into a lively gallop, which they kept up until the railroad crossing was reached. There, a long line of slowly-moving freight cars filled with crates of onions barred their way.
“Huh!” said Tom, “I guess there’s enough of ’em to melt the whole world to tears.”
“This little Texas town,” remarked Sam quite solemnly, “enjoys the distinction of being one of the largest onion-shipping points in the world.”
“Do tell,” grinned Cranny.
“And you might as well learn that the soil is good for all sorts of truck and farm products. Figs, grapes, watermelons, cantaloupes, and cabbages.”
“That sounds like a Chamber of Commerce booklet,” laughed Dick.
“When knowledge is being disseminated, don’t interrupt,” said Sam severely.
“I say, Mr. Speaker, where did you capture that last word?” gurgled Cranny. “Don’tspring anythin’ like that again so suddenly or——”
The lad did not complete his sentence for the cars had rattled by and the impatient mustangs, like hounds unleashed, abruptly started off on their own accord.
At a rapid pace the seven clattered along. The houses became farther and farther apart until finally the last one was reached and left behind, and they saw stretching before them a broad undulating country.
Beneath a grove of cottonwoods by the side of the road they reined up.
“Hello!” exclaimed Cranny, looking behind. “There’s that little Mexican town.”
“So it is,” said Tom.
They could see a few twinkling lights, some apparently poised in space, and a darkish patch stretching across the Rio—the International bridge.
Half an hour later, now on the open prairie, the boys had halted once more. Their eyes were following a train on the railroad, which had its terminus at a rapidly growing settlement on the river about twenty-five miles away. They watched the tiny starlike pointsof light blinking from the car windows, now flashing into view, now blotted from sight, as intervening objects came between, with an interest born of the solitude and silence which surrounded them.
“Fine,” said Cranny, “but I’m glad I’m not aboard. Ha, ha! Just think, Sergeant Howell doesn’t want us to go out huntin’ for adventures.”
“We never have to,” returned Sam, quite truthfully, “for our crowd is always running into them.”
“I do hope this trip will be an exception,” said Dave, with a yawn. “What do you say, Bob?”
“Either way suits me,” laughed the other.
“I’m watchfully waiting for something to start pretty soon,” remarked Dick, laughingly. “Better be prepared, Dave, old chap.”
“Come on, fellows,” cried Cranny.
The boys were soon following an old cattle trail. The hoofs of countless animals, which for years had followed this route to the town, had beaten a path almost as plainly marked in places as though the hand of man had taken part in its making.
“Just think of the thousands and thousands,” said Tom, thoughtfully. “My, mustn’t it take an awful number of cattle to supply the world?”
“The state of Texas does its share,” declared Dave. “Why, in San Antonio County alone, an area as great as Belgium, Holland and Denmark could be tucked away and still there would be plenty of space to spare.”
“Well,” said Cranny, “no wonder everything around here looks so big.”
Soon the party reached a dense thicket of chaparral, which merged into a brake of cottonwoods and willows, interspersed with mesquite and prickly pears. The moonbeams filtered through the dense masses of vegetation in silvery streaks; here spotting the tree trunks, there detaching branches and leaves from the shadowy, mysterious background.
The soft, musical sighings and rustlings, as the breeze stole through this leafy coverlet, made of it a place conducive to thought and reflections, and even Cranny Beaumont fell under its spell. And what was more natural than that he should recall the time when, with three hundred dollars in his pocket, hehad left home henceforth to depend upon himself.
Three hundred dollars! Why, at that time it had seemed like a fortune, enough to go forth and conquer the world. Yet now—he didn’t like to think of it—his finances were dwindling rapidly. The hiring of “Starlight” and the purchasing of firearms had cut a pretty big hole in his resources. Was he to go back to his father—a failure?
“No, never!” he murmured. He bit his lip almost savagely. “I must find a way!”
And despite the lively conversation of his companions and the bantering remarks which his continued silence brought from them, the Tacoma lad continued to ponder over the important problem.
A few miles beyond the timber they began to see familiar objects.
“Not far now, fellows,” sang out Tom, at length. “The old ranch-house is just beyond the next rise.”
“And after such a glorious ride, how glorious it will be to crawl under a blanket and reflect upon the lovely things we have seen,” said Dave.
“I’d rather steer away from reflections,” declared Cranny, who was beginning to recover his spirits. “I’ll race you to the top, Tom.”
The Ramblers promptly accepted this challenge, and the two, cracking their quirts, started off. The distance, only a few hundred feet, was quickly covered; “Starlight,” to Cranny’s extreme gratification, leading by a head. But the first glance he took toward the ranch-house stifled his shout of triumph and made him utter an exclamation of surprise instead.
“Just look at that, Tom!” he gasped. “Did you ever see anythin’ to beat it?”
Tom was staring in open-mouthed wonder.
The grim, square outlines of the ancient ranch-house made a dark silhouette against the cloudless sky. All of its windows but two appeared as dark, gloomy patches; and from these exceptions a dull glow of yellowish light struggled forth.
Their castle had been invaded.