Kitabı oku: «The Border Boys with the Mexican Rangers», sayfa 5

CHAPTER XI
TRAPPED!

Cautiously awakening his companions one by one, Jack told them of his adventures while in the pig pen.

“The scoundrels!” exclaimed the professor, “we must act at once.”

“Now hold your horses,” drawled Coyote Pete in the easy tone he always adopted when danger was near, “it ain’t our move yet. If I ain’t very much mistaken we’ll have all the action we want in a very short time, too. As a first step I’d suggest we bar that door yonder, – the one that Jack sneaked out of – I see it’s got a good big latch on the inside. In that way we’ll head off an attack frum thar, an’ we’ll only have the trap door from below to look after.”

The heavy bar being noiselessly placed in its hasps, Pete outlined his further plans.

“They’ll figger we are asleep,” he said, “but it ain’t likely they’ll jump us till they’ve sent someone up to make sure. It’s our play then ter git back on the straw and all snore as natural as possible.”

“What then?” asked Walt Phelps in rather an alarmed tone. “We’ve only got one rifle.”

“That’s so, consarn it,” grunted Pete, “wall, we’ll hev ter do ther best we can an’ – hush, hyar comes the advance guard now!”

In the room below they could hear cautious footsteps. Evidently Ramon had lost no time in hatching out his plans.

“Lie down, everybody, and sham sleep as hard as yer can,” ordered Pete in a low, tense whisper, “our lives may depend on it.”

The order was obeyed none too soon, for before many seconds had passed they could hear the creaking of the ladder as someone mounted it. Presently, from one half-closed eye, Jack perceived a head poked upward through the trap in the floor. By the light which streamed up from below he saw that it was the cranium of the red-headed man whom he was pretty sure was the author of the warning message which had been carried into their camp.

The man stood still as a statue for perhaps five minutes. During the tense moments Jack’s heart beat as if it would break through his ribs. It was not fear, but intense excitement that thrilled him. The moment was at hand when they would be engaged in a desperate game against terrible odds. What would be the result?

Having apparently satisfied himself that they all slept soundly, the scout of the outlaws descended once more, the ladder creaking under his weight.

“It’s goin’ ter come in a few minutes, now,” whispered Pete, rousing himself, “gimme the rifle, Walt. How many cartridges is in it?”

“Five,” was the disheartening reply.

“An’ we ain’t got another one between us,” moaned Pete. “Wall, it can’t be helped, as the hawk said to ther chicken when he carried her of, leavin’ her numerous family behind. Now, I’m going ter git right by this here opening and the first head that pokes through it gits a crack. We’ll save the cartridges for an emergency.”

“An emergency!” exclaimed Ralph, thinking that if ever there was an emergency the present situation had already arrived at that stage.

They could now hear whispers below, and worse still, the ominous click and slide of repeating rifles being got in readiness for use.

“There’s some old furniture piled in that corner,” exclaimed Jack suddenly, “couldn’t we use it to block the trap with?”

“A good idea when the worst of it comes,” assented Pete, “but we’ve got ter keep ther trap open so as to disable as many as possible before we have to come to close quarters.”

The next ten minutes, – for though it seemed like the same number of hours, it was not in reality any more, – was the most painful period the boys ever recalled having put in. From the room below came furtive sounds, but they were so soft and infrequent that it looked as if the main body must have withdrawn further to discuss the attack.

“Say, let’s rush them. I can’t stand this any longer.”

It was Ralph who spoke, but Coyote laid a restraining hand on his arm.

“Easy, lad, easy,” he admonished in a low breath, almost in the lad’s ear, “it won’t be long before they start tuning up for the performance, and it ain’t goin’ ter be a funeral march for us neither.”

As he spoke, Pete “clubbed” their solitary rifle, holding it by the barrel. At the same instant a door beneath quietly opened and closed, and the next minute the ladder creaked as a foot was placed upon it.

“Up with you, Miguel,” they heard Ramon whisper, “here’s the knife. Remember the money belt is on the old man. Jose, you follow him closely, and Migullo, you come after. That is all it is safe to trust on the ladder at one time. I myself will come later.”

“The cowardly greaser,” breathed Coyote, with one of his increasingly frequent lapses into plain English, “I guess he’ll feel less like climbing than ever when he sees what’s going to happen to the first arrival. It’s a good thing for us they can’t come but one at a time. In that way they’ll have no chance of rushing us.”

As he finished speaking the boys felt the peculiar thrill that comes before the enactment of some exciting deed. A black head poked itself cautiously through the trap and as it did so Coyote raised his rifle stock, swung it, and brought it down with crushing force on the head of the intruding wretch. He fell backward with a crash, and landed in a heap in the room below. Under ordinary circumstances, not one of the Border Boys would have stood for such drastic measures. But they knew that now it was their life or the Mexican’s. Nevertheless they felt relieved as they heard the fellow stagger to his feet and begin cursing in picturesque Mexican.

“Diablo! The fiend himself is in those Gringoes,” he raved, “I think they have broken every bone in my body.”

“More fool you, for not being more cautious,” growled Ramon, and then, raising his voice, he shouted up in English:

“It will be of no use to you to resist. I have a superior force and if you injure another of my men when I do get you it will go hard with you. Surrender and give me the money and no harm will come to you with the exception of Jack Merrill. I mean to deal with him as I choose.”

“When you get him, you dog,” shouted Coyote Pete, “which won’t be yet or for a long time to come, – ah! you would, would you!”

As he spoke, the cow-puncher had projected his head thoughtlessly over the edge of the trap door. A bullet aimed to kill, which, however, whizzed harmlessly by his ear, was the result. The missile sang through the air and buried itself in one of the rafters.

“We’ll give you all you want of that directly,” hailed Coyote Pete, essaying what is sometimes called “a bluff,” “we have plenty of rifles and ammunition, and we can use them, too, so bring on your next man.”

“You shall smart for this, you Gringo pig,” cried Ramon from below. Evidently the complete failure of his first attack and Coyote’s bantering tone had driven him beside himself with fury.

“Oh, I’m a smart fellow, anyhow,” chuckled Coyote Pete, “come on. One cigar for every head I crack. That’s the way they do it at the county fair with the Jolly Nigger Dodger, and I don’t know as you greasers have anything on him.”

“Rush up and bring them down out of that!” screamed Ramon furiously. But the sharp lesson they had just had seemed to hold the Mexicans in check. Evidently the Gringoes above were not to be trifled with. Ramon strode up and down the room stamping and raging and biting his nails. Altogether he was in a fit of black Latin rage which is not so very different from the tantrums we occasionally find in our own nurseries.

“Why not come up yourself, Ramon?” was Coyote’s next thrust. “If your head is burning with such blazing thoughts it must need ventilating.”

But the Mexican, wisely enough perhaps, did not reply. Instead, he called down the men from the ladder, seeing, in spite of his rage, that it was useless to waste his followers in that fashion.

“We’d better bottle up the trap door now,” said Pete, as the voices below became more inaudible. “Get that old furniture, boys, and we’ll make things snug.”

“Here’s an old table top that might fit over the hole,” said Jack, bringing the article in question, “it’ll just fit too, and it’s solid mahogany.”

“Just the thing, boy. Now quickly bring all the stuff you can to pile on it.”

“Say, there’s a pile of big stones over here where the chimney goes through,” reported Ralph presently, “how would those do for weights?”

“Fine. Bring them right along. Your Uncle Dudley will pile them.”

One would have said from the cow-puncher’s boisterous spirits that he was in perfect security instead of a situation the danger of which he, perhaps, more fully realized than any of his companions, comparatively inexperienced as they were.

One by one the lads carried the big stones over and they were piled on the table top.

“That will do,” said Coyote at length, “they’ll never get that up unless they use dynamite.”

“What do you suppose they’ll do now?” wondered Jack as, the work over, they sat down about the newly covered hole.

“Try rushing that back door, most likely. Suppose you take a peek out of the window. It gives a view of the steps and it’s too small for the varmint ter git through.”

The small aperture, mentioned before, was quite high up in the wall, but, hoisted up by Ralph and Walt, Jack was able to rest his elbows on the sill and peer out. He did so cautiously, which was just as well, for, as the astute cow-puncher had surmised, the next attack must come from the back door. So much was evidenced by a view of the steps which were covered with dark forms advancing stealthily.

“We’ll give ’em another surprise party,” announced Pete when he had heard his young lieutenant’s report. “Jack, take the rifle while I guard the trap. There’s a chance they may try to rush the two places at once. Aim through the keyhole, and when you think it time to, let ’em have it. Don’t be scared of hurting them. Remember it’s our lives or theirs.”

Feeling a bit squeamish, but far too good a soldier to attempt to disobey orders, or even question them, Jack did as he was directed. Placing the muzzle of the rifle to the keyhole he waited with beating heart the first signal that their enemies had ascended the stairway and were actually on the balcony outside the door.

He had not long to wait. Presently there came a scuffling, scratching sound without, as the Mexicans fumbled about the door, evidently feeling for a latch of some sort. With a hasty prayer that he might not inflict a mortal wound, Jack awaited the right moment, as he judged it, and fired.

There was instantly a loud yell of pain from without.

“Good for you, boy,” grunted old Pete grimly “you brung him down.”

CHAPTER XII
THE GRINGOES MOVE

From without the door there now came shouts of baffled rage. The Mexicans were finding out, as their kind has done before, that a party of brave Americans is more than a match for twice their number in a fight. Moreover, thanks mainly to Jack’s presence of mind in slipping out of the house and performing scout work, our party was strongly entrenched. The door was stout, and the iron bar within solid. There was no apparent way of forcing an entrance by battering it down, for the landing was too small to use a “ram” effectually.

“Hooray, we’ve got ’em beaten!” cried Ralph thoughtlessly.

Coyote flashed a scornful eye on him.

“Beaten!” he scoffed, “we ain’t got ’em beaten till we’re out of this place and miles on our way. Why, if they kain’t do anything else they kin starve us out if they want to.”

“That’s so,” assented Ralph sorrowfully, and then with a violent twist of spirits, “I guess we’re goners.”

“There, go galloping off the reservation agin,” struck in Pete; “we ain’t goners yit by a long shot, but we’ve got a powerful lot of work afore us, as the government said when they tackled digging that Panama Canal.”

All now became silent once more, or at least the boys could hear nothing. Evidently the Mexicans had withdrawn for a council of war.

“This time they’ll be in dead earnest,” opined the cow-puncher, “so keep a smart eye open for ’em everywhere.”

Hanging breathlessly on the least sound, the besieged party waited for the first sign of the coming attack. It was a long time in making itself manifest, and when it did, it was for a moment puzzling enough. It came in the form of a noise from above.

“Somebody’s on the roof!” exclaimed Pete. “The foxy varmints! I wonder they didn’t think of that before.”

The roof of the lonely rancho was flat, and soon they could hear several footsteps on it as their besiegers paced about.

“What are they going to do?” asked Ralph in a puzzled tone.

“Not hard to guess,” rejoined the professor, “cut a hole in it, I guess, and then they’ll have us completely at their mercy.”

“If we let them,” said Jack, “but why not try to escape by the trap, while they are busy on the roof?”

“That might be a good idea if it warn’t likely that they have the foot of the ladder guarded, or most probably have taken it down,” said Coyote Pete; “no, you’ll have to guess agin, Jack. Think uv something new and original.”

“I might say try that door, but I guess that’s guarded, too.”

“Not a doubt of it,” was the reply.

“Tell you what we’ll do,” exclaimed Jack suddenly, struck with an inspiration, “we’ll try the walls. There may be a secret passage or a concealed window in them some place.”

The cow-puncher laughed.

“This ain’t a story book, son, and I never heard of such things outside of one. Lady Gwendolens in real life come out by the fire escape more often than by the old secret passage or the haunted wing.”

Undismayed, however, Jack set about his task. He was in the midst of it, and had met with no success, – not that he had seriously hoped for any, – when a sudden sound pierced the darkened garret.

The noise was that of axes cutting into the roof.

As Jack listened a slight shudder ran through him. From that point of vantage the outlaws could shoot them down as they wished, and there would not be much chance of using their four remaining shots in return. By this time Jack had reached the spot by the big stone chimney from which they had taken the stone used to weight the table above the trap door.

With a rather vague idea of using some more of the stones as weapons, he started pulling down the remaining loose ones. He had been at this work but a few minutes when he gave a sudden cry of triumph.

“Look! Boys! Look here!” he cried, amazedly.

They scurried to his side to find him pointing into a black, yawning mouth, evidently intended originally for a fireplace but left unfinished, as the stones they had used now testified.

“It’s big enough to swallow a horse almost,” cried Ralph.

“It’s big enough to save our lives, maybe,” grunted Pete, “but maybe it’s only a blind lead, and may come out nowhere. In that case a fellow at the bottom of a well would be better off than the chap in there, for ther’d be no way of gitting out uv that chimney once you got in, and – Jumping Jupiter! Come back, boy!”

But it was too late. While Coyote Pete had been talking, Jack had slipped into the fireplace, and clutching the rough sides of the chimney had taken the daring drop.

The others listened above in breathless anxiety, and then, to their infinite relief, a voice trickled up to them from the depths.

“It’s all right, boys! Come on, but take it easy, for I knocked all the skin off my shins in my hurry.”

The blows on the roof were by this time becoming louder, and they could distinctly hear the sound of splintering wood as the axe blades cut into it.

“They’ll hev pecked through that in ten minutes, now,” said Pete, getting over to one side of the fireplace, “come on, boys. Be on your way.”

But the boys insisted on the professor going first, now that they knew the drop was safe enough. Not without misgivings, to which he was too brave to give utterance. Professor Wintergreen, scientist and writer, cast himself into that black hole in the garret of the lonely rancho. An instant later, after a prodigious scraping and bumping, word came up that he, too, was safe. Ralph and Walt came next, the former softly humming: —

“I don’t know where I’m goin’, but I’m on my way.”

Coyote Pete came last; and now we shall follow the party, leaving the Mexicans still hacking away at the roof. It is a trip worth taking, too, for at the bottom of the chimney an astonishing condition of things prevailed.

The smoke duct led not into a cellar or into a blind hole, but instead, Jack, on alighting, had found himself, soot covered and scratched and torn, in a large open fireplace in a small room. As he made his sensational entrance there was a sudden sharp scream from a corner of the room and a female figure clad in white sprang up.

For an instant a dreadful fear that he had alighted in some sort of a trap flashed into Jack’s mind. But the next instant he realized that the alarmed girl was none other than the senorita, and that the room into which he had fallen was the one selected as her prison.

“Hush, senorita!” exclaimed the boy, as soon as he had given the signal to his comrades above that all was well, “do not fear me. I am not one of your enemies but a friend, an American. My companions are with me, – er – er – that is, they will be.”

“Oh, senor!” cried the girl in English, “what a dreadful fright you gave me. You – you, if you will excuse me, you are so black. I suppose it’s the soot in the chimney.”

Jack could hardly refrain from smiling, as, for the first time, he bethought himself of the alarming figure he must present.

“I’m not as black as I’m painted, senorita, really, I’m not. Nor are these two new arrivals chimney sweeps, but young American gentlemen,” he added with a sweeping bow, as Walt Phelps and Ralph popped out of the chimney. “Allow me to present myself. I am Jack Merrill, and these are my friends, Walt Phelps, of New Mexico, and Ralph Stetson, of New York. Not forgetting,” he added merrily, as the professor straightened up from an instinctive brushing of his clothes, “our instructor and – er – er – chaperone, Professor Wintergreen, of Stonefell College, and,” as the other member of the party appeared, “Mister Peter de Peyster, of the Merrill Ranch.”

“At your service, miss,” said Coyote Pete with a low, sweeping bow and a deep flourish of his sombrero, to which even in his fall he had clung.

“Oh, I feel safer now,” cried the girl delightedly, “but,” and she clasped her hands, “Madre de Dios, what I have passed through! I was summoned to my garden this evening by a decoy message, that one of the good sisters at the convent wished to see me. I had hardly set foot on the path when I was seized and carried off!”

“The rest of your story we know, senorita,” said Jack earnestly.

“You know it?” repeated the girl in an amazed tone, “but, senor, I do not understand.”

“I will explain later,” said Jack, “at least, we all hope to have the pleasure of doing so. I may add that I overheard the ruffians, your captors, discussing the matter while I was hiding in a pig pen.”

The senorita’s large dark eyes grew larger than ever at this. She began to think Jack a very peculiar young person to come sliding down chimneys into rooms and to choose to eavesdrop on brigands from pig pens. But she made no comment, and the talk at once turned to the subject of escape.

The door of the room was of oak, barred and bolted on the outside, and impregnable. But the window, high up in the wall though it was, appeared to be just about large enough to squeeze through, ample enough even for Coyote Pete, who was the largest of the party.

“Reckon we can reach it by putting this chair on that table yonder,” declared Pete, “but we’ll have ter look slippy, for those chaps will be through the roof before long, and when they discover we’re gone and see the hole in the chimney, they’ll guess the route we’ve taken.”

When the table had been dragged over under the window and the chair placed upon it, Pete clambered up and found that he could easily reach the aperture.

“It’s all clear outside, too, and the corral isn’t more than a few rods away,” he announced. “Boys, if we have any sort of luck we may get out of this and save the young lady. I’ll go first, for it’s a longish drop to the ground. Those that foller kin land on my shoulders.”

The next instant he raised his lithe, ranch-toughened form and wriggled through the hole. In a flash he was gone.

“Your turn next, senorita,” said Jack; “allow me to assist you.”

The brave girl made no foolish hesitation about obeying. With a graceful little leap she was on the table and by Jack’s side. In a jiffy he had assisted her through and she was caught by Coyote Pete outside. Next came the professor; following him, Walt and Ralph. As Walt alighted, he was ordered to creep over to the corral, keeping cautiously in the shadow of the willows. Once in the corral he was to get all their horses and a saddle for the senorita, if possible, selecting any one from the two or three hanging on the fence after the shiftless Mexican fashion. Presently Jack joined him at the risky work, having been the last to emerge from the window.

They had got the last of their own horses and had selected one for the senorita, when there came a loud shout from behind them followed by a volley of shots.

A dreadful fear shot into Jack’s heart. Had they been discovered?