The Boy Ranchers on Roaring River: or, Diamond X and the Chinese Smugglers

They had to force their horses to head toward the fire. The sparks were flying high, and the heat could be plainly felt even at the distance the boys stood. But finally Bud and Nort got the ponies started.

The animals approached the fire with mincing steps. The boys had to force them continually onward, for no beast will go toward fire willingly. A few more steps and Nort said:

"Say, Bud, there's not much point in this. The broncs will never go near enough for us to see anything. What say we get off and walk? I don't think there's much chance of Delton shooting at us. If we really want to find out anything we better get off these horses."

"Guess that's right," agreed Bud as his mount reared high. "Fast, though – snap to it, Nort!"

The boys turned their ponies away from the fire and rode swiftly back. They dismounted and without hesitation, ran again to the burning house. They made for the side, from where the Mexican cook had staggered out.

"There ought to be an entrance to the cellar about here," Bud panted as he ran on. "The Mex said they were down there!"

As they neared the building they saw that this was so. A small door indicated the way to the cellar. The heat was tremendous, and Nort wondered if their errand hadn't been in vain. It didn't seem possible that there living creatures were voluntarily remaining within.

Just as Nort was about to tell Bud his thought, a figure emerged and staggered toward them. It was the man who had protested at Delton's treatment of Bud when the boy had been taken, bound, to this very house. The man was in sad case. His breath was coming in sobs, and he maintained an upright position only by a supreme effort. One side of his face was badly burned.

"Help – " he gasped. "Help – men in there – "

"What is it? Speak quick!" Bud commanded. "Can't they get out? Are they in danger?'

"Trapped! Delton – in there – can't move – hit on the head – "

The next moment the man collapsed at their feet, unconscious.

CHAPTER XXIV

THE RATTLING BUCKBOARD

"Quick, Nort! Pull him back out of the heat and call the others! We've got to save those men!"

"What's the matter?" Dick cried as he came up. "Aren't they out of that furnace yet?"

"No – they're trapped inside! We've got to get them out! Billee Dobb – is – is he dead?"

"No – he's better! He insisted on my coming over when he saw the smoke. Thought I might be needed. No time for talk now – we've got to get busy!"

"It's sure death to enter that!" Hawkins cried as another huge tongue of flame shot heavenward, sending the boys reeling back. "You'll only throw your lives away!"

"I can't help it – we must do something! We can't see them burned to death!"

At that moment Bud felt a tug at his sleeve. He jerked around. At his elbow was the Mexican cook. He motioned to himself, then toward the cellar. Then he leaped forward.

"Follow him!" Bud cried. "He knows how to get in safely!"

With a rush the others were on the heels of the Mexican.

"Someone has got to stay here – help them out if we do get them!" exclaimed Hawkins. "Nort – you and Dick wait!"

Bud was directly behind the Mexican. He saw the man disappear down into the smoke, and taking a full breath, the boy followed. He found himself below ground, and for a moment hesitated to get his bearings. The air was choking, but the heat was not intolerable. The fire had not quite reached the lower floor.

There was no time to be lost, for any minute the building might collapse and bury them. Bud plunged on. He could see faintly now, and he caught a glimpse of a figure in front of him, beckoning.

"Go – ahead!" the boy gasped. "Coming!"

A few steps further and he stumbled against a door. At his side was the Mexican, pointing. Bud pushed frantically, but the door refused to budge. Then he found the reason. It was bolted.

"You – you locked them in! You inhuman – "

He saw the Mexican shrug his shoulders. Even in the burning building the Latin's philosophical mind did not desert him.

Bud struggled with the bolt. It stuck. He strove with all his strength – and the door flew open. The boy stumbled in. His foot struck a body stretched upon the floor.

He reached down and lifted the unconscious man to his shoulder. Behind him he heard a voice. It was that of Yellin' Kid.

"Give him here!" The Kid seized the limp form and passed it to someone at his side. "We'll get 'em out like a bucket-brigade! Pass 'em to me, Bud!"

Through the smoke Bud groped his way. His hand encountered another body. In a moment he lifted the man and passed him to the Kid. His head felt as if it were bursting, but on he struggled, seeking, hands outstretched. He passed another body out to the Kid. Another. Then he heard a moan and turned toward it. A man lay against the wall. His hands moved feebly, and even in the smoke and gloom Bud, could see blood streaming from a cut on his head. The boy bent over and grasped the man's arm. His face was within an inch of the other's.

"Delton!"

The boy's cry was involuntary. Here, under his very hands, was the man who was the cause of their misfortunes – who had committed crimes, no telling how many, and who had perhaps shot one of their comrades. And yet Bud was risking his life to save this creature. Was it fair to ask – ?

A low moan came from the wretched figure. Bud looked for a long moment at the blood-stained face. Then with a sudden heave he lifted him and staggered to the door.

"I'll take him!" he gasped to the Kid, who had reached for the burden. "See if there are any more!"

He heard Yellin' Kid smashing against the walls in an effort to locate other senseless figures. Then he followed Bud.

"Can't find any more. Ask the Mex how many – "

The cook heard the inquiry and flung his arms wide, indicating that the rest had made their escape. The Kid, gasping, plunged out into the open.

As he gulped in great mouthfuls of the welcome fresh air the Kid heard a sudden crash. He turned quickly. A shower of sparks and flames shot into the air, like the eruption of a volcano. There was another roar, and the next moment the building was in ruins. The walls had collapsed, and nothing remained of the structure but a pile of embers. With horror written on his face, the Kid looked wildly about him.

"Bud!" he almost screamed. "Bud – is he in there? Get him out – get him – "

"All right, Kid – all right – " said a voice by his side. It was Bud. The Kid stared at him for a long minute, with a suspicious moisture in his eyes. Then he laid his hand on Bud's shoulder.

"Thought – you were – " he said in a husky voice. And he did a strange yet a boyish thing. He withdrew his hand from Bud's shoulder and planted it hard under the other's ribs.

"Baby!" he exclaimed. "We sure did clean up that place! Threw them out like bags of corn. Anybody hurt bad?"

The two, their faces blackened and with clothes torn, walked toward the group of men gathered about the injured. They saw the forms stretched on the ground, and for a moment feared that their rescue work had been in vain.

The boy ranchers looked at the figure upon the ground. The man groaned and opened his eyes. He stared straight into the eyes of Bud. For a moment hostility glared out at the boy, then Delton half closed his eyes as though he were trying to think. The men gathered about were quiet, watching their prisoner. He wet his lips with his tongue.

"Thanks," he murmured, and held out his hand with a feeble gesture. Bud reached down and grasped it with a smile.

"Don't mention it," the boy said quickly. Then he straightened up and looked over to Mr. Hawkins. "Say, are you thinking the same thing I am?" he asked the agent.