CHAPTER XXITHE FUSILLADE
Bob Somerswas the first of the Ramblers to speak.
“Good-morning, Cranny,” he exclaimed, in as even a tone as the terrific jolting he had received would allow. “I never was more pleased to see anybody in my life. We’ve come to get Jimmy Raymond!”
“But, goodness gracious, what are you doing out here all alone, Cranny Beaumont?” demanded Tom, whose voice was trembling with suppressed excitement. “Where’s your mustang? Where’s the crowd? Is Jimmy Raymond inside that hotel?”
Tom spoke so rapidly that some of his words were all jumbled together, a fact which was explained an instant later, when he burst out before Cranny had had a chance to reply, “Did you hear a shell explode just now? Well—alittle bit more and it would have knocked thunder out of Bob and me!”
“Life in Mexico is certainly one thrill after another!” gasped Cranny. “But how in the world did you chaps happen along just in the nick of time?”
“I reckon the whole bunch’ll be nicked in no time at all, unless we manage to put the Rio between us and this land of fireworks and smoke!” exclaimed Tom, with a glance at the burning house. “Now, Cranny Beaumont——”
“Order, order!” interjected Bob. “We haven’t a moment to spare. Your story’s the most important, Cranny. Fire away—make it short!”
It was no time or place for an extended conversation. With the sound of rifles and cannons ringing in their ears, and surrounded by a crowd of disheveled-looking Mexicans, in whose faces seemed to be reflected all the angry, fierce passions of the moment, Cranny briefly related his tale.
Anxious looks immediately sprang into the Ramblers’ faces.
“By George! It looks bad!” cried Tom.
Bob nodded.
“I don’t like it a little bit!” he acknowledged.
“It means that we’ll have to chase ’em up,” declared Tom vigorously.
“An’ come back here, every now an’ again!” asserted Cranny.
“Yes!” Then Tom, in answer to Cranny’s pleading to know something about their own experiences, began to explain, in quick, jerky sentences.
The mustangs, restive and excited, pawing the ground, and continually trying to dash away, made talking extremely difficult; but notwithstanding this, Cranny quickly learned all the principal features. Tom told him about the history of Jimmy Raymond, how he had met Colonel Brookes Sylvester, and his subsequent trip over the prairie to the Rangers’ quarters, where he found Bob Somers and the others all “worked-up” over his long absence.
Then he had borrowed a fresh horse from Fred Cole, and in company with Bob set out for the town across the river. Arriving there rather late in the evening, the two had put upat company headquarters of the Rangers, intending to start off the first thing in the morning after Jimmy Raymond and bring him back to Texas.
“Of course he never expected there’d be any such fierce mix-up as this,” exclaimed Tom, “or, at least, not so soon. The sound of the firing awakened us—and say—maybe Bob and I didn’t hustle!”
“Then what made you so long in gettin’ here?” asked Cranny.
“Soldiers guarding the International bridge,” responded Tom. “And if it hadn’t been for Captain Julius Braddock, who came that far with us, it would have been a case of swim or wade across the river at some point where there were no officials to stop us!”
All this information was packed into a surprisingly short space of time. The fear of exploding shells was in the hearts of all. They could see the smoke of fires at widely separated points in the town rising high above the housetops.
“Jump up behind me, Cranny,” cried Tom breathlessly. “We’ve got some mighty dangerous work before us!”
“You bet!” exclaimed Cranny. “Here I come, Tom! Look out, old chap!”
With a quick, agile spring he landed safely on the horse’s back, and on the instant the jabbering, rather hostile-looking Mexicans saw the riders head for the plaza at a rattling pace.
Swinging across it, they turned into a narrow, winding street which ran to the west, keeping a sharp lookout for the other Americans.
“Colonel Sylvester certainly would be wild if he knew that Jimmy couldn’t be found,” exclaimed Tom, as he and Bob drew up and halted in the shadow of an old stone wall. “This seems to be one of the cases where a chap can’t follow out any regular plan—it’s just hit or miss!”
“An’ I hope they do miss us,” said Cranny, with the trace of a chuckle in his tone.
“I can’t understand why some of those chaps at least didn’t ride back to the hotel as fast as they knew how,” remarked Bob. “Something must have surely happened.”
“I’m afraid so!” said Tom. “Hello——”
Sharpshooters, from behind a high barricadeof sand-bags on the roof of a near-by building, had suddenly opened fire.
“I wonder if it means that the Constitutionalists are gettin’ nearer?” cried Bob.
“I hardly think so,” declared Cranny. “Seems to me the firin’s been growin’ less for some time.” He looked around at the little knots of people, gathered together at various points. “These chaps appear to have lost some o’ their panicky feelin’s.”
“Well! What shall we do?” demanded Tom.
“Keep on riding until the town is scoured from end to end!” replied Bob. A sudden thought struck him. “Perhaps, for some reason, they’ve all gone over the International bridge!”
“Not on your life!” scoffed Cranny. “Three of ’em were goin’ to stay here even if the rebs blew the town from under ’em! I don’t know about Jimmy, though,” he added reflectively.
This time Tom shook his head.
“No; I believe it would take more than this to make him beat it over to that Texas town!” he said, emphatically.
Riding from street to street the boys saw on all sides small armies of citizen volunteers and mounted rurales, every one of them armed.
These warlike scenes, the uncertainty, the lack of any knowledge either concerning their companions or as to how the battle was progressing, and the loud yells often directed toward them in Spanish, all combined to keep them in a perpetual state of excitement.
“Oh, if I only hadn’t lost my way!” groaned Cranny. “How much better I’d feel!”
And now they began to see many squads of Federal soldiers pattering along, again accompanied by pack-trains of mules. Machine guns were set up in the streets at many strategic points—it was very evident that the lull in the enemies’ fire had not caused the Federals to abandon any precautions.
At this time the cracking of rifles from behind the trenches and breastworks had dwindled until now only an occasional sharp volley of shots rang out.
When the history of this siege was writtenlater, it then became known that the Constitutionalists’ generals withdrew their forces while awaiting the arrival of cars loaded with artillery. These were delayed for a considerable time owing to the fact that a Federal scouting party had torn up a portion of the railroad tracks.
Human judgment is fallible. Thus it was that the boys as well as many of the citizens, in not understanding the true state of affairs, exposed themselves to the greatest danger.
In searching for their friends the three finally found themselves approaching the outskirts of the town. About three hundred yards beyond the last houses, the zigzag trenches began.
As Cranny Beaumont caught sight of these deep pits, in which could be seen the heads and shoulders of hundreds of Federal troops, their shining rifles in a bristling array resting over the edge, he reflected with a curious thrill that they were actually on the firing line, close to field and machine guns, with the gunners standing ready to send a hail of shot and shell spurting forth at the word of command. To the left a long line of breastworksextended off, and behind these the soldiers lounged about with apparently as much indifference as though their work was the least hazardous occupation in the world.
The boys observed all these things, and were themselves observed by hundreds and hundreds of swarthy Mexicans.
A group of men, evidently officers, poured forth a flood of Spanish, and energetically waved for them to retire. The general in command of the garrison, a fine military-looking figure, gaily uniformed, and mounted on a coal black horse, spoke to an aide, who promptly began riding toward them.
But he did not reach their side.
With an abruptness that caused the boys fairly to gasp with dismay, a terrific cannonading started up from the direction of the hills. And, at the same instant, thousands of cavalrymen, surrounding the town, advanced far enough to open a heavy rifle fire on the breastworks and trenches.
The attack was so violent and unexpected that the three for a few seconds felt too bewildered to make any attempt to flee from the scene.
The Federal cannon began to boom with reports which seemed to jar them from toes to the crown of their heads. The steady din of crackling rifles and the crash of bursting shells dropping near the trenches and breastworks speedily worked the mustangs into a frenzy of fear. But for Cranny Beaumont’s great strength and acrobatic ability he would have been flung from his seat when Tom’s horse suddenly bolted.
Bob Somers, after a moment’s inaction, had fully recovered his presence of mind.
“Get behind the house over yonder, Tom!” he yelled.
Tom Clifton heeded his words. Riding at a furious pace, they dashed up to a white adobe casa, which stood in a neglected field, overrun with mesquite, and sought temporary shelter at the rear.
Breathless and fighting desperately to control their mounts, the lads passed through some thrilling moments. Clouds of whitish smoke from the cannons and rifles floated over the trenches. Little puffs of the same color, rising straight up in the air, spotted the distant hills. Showers of earth, dust, andfragments of bushes were continually marking the places where shells had fallen.
All these things and more the three lads observed when they had mastered the horses, and dared to peer cautiously around the weather-beaten walls.
“Well now, fellows, we seem to be in the fix of our lives!” exclaimed Cranny. He did his best to control a vibrating note in his voice. “The other bombardment was just a joke to this!”
“You were right after all about the sleeping volcano stuff, Cranny!” remarked Tom, solemnly. “Only this is a lot worse.”
A rain of shells was carrying terror and destruction to the town. The smoke of numerous fires rolled up in whirling columns against the clear blue sky.
A handful of bullets, suddenly striking the wall on the opposite side of the house, and others, tearing and ripping through the foliage of a tree close by, sending branches and twigs to the ground, gave the lads a terrible start.
“It won’t be safe to stay here much longer!” breathed Tom.
“I say let’s steer straight for our hotel onthe plaza,” said Bob. “Possibly we may run across some of the fellows in that direction.”
The lads were afraid to remain in their present position, yet equally afraid to leave its shelter. Shells were passing overhead. One expended its force in a field not far beyond, with a tremendous outburst.
The rapidity with which events were moving, however, decided matters for them.
Scarcely daring now to look around the corner of the house, they finally did so, when a curious cessation of the Federal batteries and rifle firing occurred.
And the sight which their eyes took in was enough to make even a seasoned special war correspondent like Ralph Edmunds tremble with apprehension and alarm.
The cordon of cavalrymen, thousands in numbers, were making a furious, headlong charge. It was a magnificent, and an inspiring sight as well, to see that great body of horsemen in the bright clear sunshine galloping forward.
“Look! look at the Feds scramblin’ out o’ the trenches!” yelled Cranny, wildly. “They’re done for—it’s good-night for them.”
Squads of soldiers and citizen volunteers were already rushing up to reinforce their comrades. From the sharpshooters on the roof tops came volley after volley; but nothing which lay in their power could have stemmed that daring charge.
In the grip of a fascination that held them motionless, the three watched and waited in breathless suspense.
Now the cavalrymen were charging the outermost line of trenches and the breastworks to the south. Over the deep, zigzag pits their horses were leaping, floundering or struggling; some there were that stumbled and fell, and unaided could not rise again. And all this time the wild fierce yells, as foe met foe, could be clearly heard.
Resistless as an avalanche the great multitude swept on, while a continuous stream of brown-skinned men came pouring and tumbling out of the trenches, and, as panic-stricken as animals fleeing before the flames and smoke of a forest fire, dashed madly off for any haven of safety.
Soldiers with loaded guns forgot to fire. Many discarded their weapons as they ran.It was a spectacle of triumph on the one hand and utter demoralization on the other. The sudden and desperate nature of the assault crumpled up the Federals, and the great onrushing tide of men and horses threatened to engulf and overwhelm many of those who fled before them.
The very danger of the situation seemed to give the lads an almost unnatural calmness. They fully understood that to remain an instant longer was to run the greatest risk. In those terrible moments of turmoil and violence, nationality would not serve to protect them.
“To the hotel, boys!” shouted Bob. “And then——”
“What?” asked Tom, in solemn tones.
“That’s something we have yet to learn!”
As they started off, finding it difficult to hold the frightened, snorting mustangs in check, a small army of mounted rurales and citizen volunteers were seen advancing on a trot. A few shots sent them scurrying to cover. Then from behind the shelter of isolated houses they began to pour forth an answering fire.
The clatter of pounding hoofs as the cavalrymen galloped furiously over the roads and across the fields, the savage yells of the combatants, and the sharp cracking of rifles, made a veritable pandemonium of sound.
Following the first hot clash with the citizen defenders, riderless horses and pack-trains of mules were stampeding through the hot, dusty streets, adding to the panic and terror of the fleeing people.
Bending every effort to keep far in the lead of the victorious host of charging cavalrymen, the boys rode hard. They felt neither the heat nor the perspiration streaming down their dust-begrimed faces. No shells were falling now on the town, but the farther they progressed the more menacing the danger became.
Several of the narrow streets were still occupied by little groups of Federal soldiers, who, rounded up by their officers and bullied, threatened or coaxed, were prepared to make a last desperate stand.
Blocked from these thoroughfares the Americans clattered headlong into others, always in the thick of so many thrilling events,in which panic, passion, and violence played equal parts, that their brains could grasp only a confused and jumbled impression.
At the rear, urging them on, ever faster, faster was the sound of strife as the cavalrymen, smashing and crushing all opposition that lay in their path, continued their triumphal advance.
And above the general hullabaloo made by shots, the hoofs of dashing horses, and human voices raised to a pitch of frenzy, came the reports of dynamite bombs exploding with fearful force. This was the work of the Federals, who had threatened to destroy the town, if forced to evacuate.
Through the thick yellow smoke from burning buildings, with sputtering sparks like a hail of fire dropping about them, rode the lads, making desperate efforts to reach the plaza in the shortest possible time.
They had so many times almost given up hope of ever reaching it, that when the broad and almost deserted square, simmering in the rays of the blazing sun, actually did appear before their eyes, Cranny blurted out almost hilariously:
“Say, fellows! That’s certainly one o’ the finest sights I’ve ever seen!”
“I’ll never forget it!” said Bob, in a strained, tense voice.
Without having any definite plan other than to get a few moments’ rest, the three urged the mustangs toward the stable.
The revolutionists they knew would be swarming through every part of the town in a very short time. What sort of treatment could they expect to receive at their hands?
In their present state of mind, with the fate of the others still unknown, not one of the three could have brought himself to offer, as a solution to their own difficulties, a flight across the International bridge.
Dismounting before the stable door, they quickly led the mustangs inside.
“Hello!” exclaimed Tom, the moment his eyes had become accustomed to the gloomy shadows. “Do you see anything queer?”
“No, I don’t see anythin’ queer!” responded Cranny. “An’ why? Because it’s gone.”
“Which seems to prove that George Parrymust have come here and taken the burro away,” said Bob.
“Of course that’s it!” cried the Tacoma lad, joyously.
“That makes me feel a great deal better!”
“I don’t understand it,” murmured Tom.
“It certainly looks mighty encouraging anyway!” cried Bob. “Get over there, ‘Whirly-gig’—steady, boy—let’s head for the cool shadows of the patio, fellows, and talk it over.”
When the ponies were secured to the iron rings the three made a rapid sprint for the hotel. On the topmost step they paused.
“Ah!” murmured Cranny.
On a street in line with them, leading off from the plaza, they saw a large body of cavalrymen, a jam of horses and men in the narrow confines, bearing rapidly down on the sun-baked square.
“I can’t help it,” growled Tom, wiping beads of perspiration from his face. “I’m going to have a rest!” He walked inside with the others following at his heels.
“We’ll have to trust to luck, and——” Bob Somers had just come in sight of thepatio when he uttered these words, but instead of finishing the sentence he stopped abruptly, to gasp out an exclamation of the utmost astonishment.
His companions, too, uttered similar sounds.
Two boys resting in the shade of the courtyard had hastily risen to their feet at the sound of their entrance, and turned to face them.
“By all that’s wonderful! Dick Travers and Jimmy Raymond!” shouted Tom Clifton.