The Border Boys with the Texas Rangers

Baldy shifted uneasily.

“It warn’t no fault of mine, boss,” he protested.

“I’ll be the judge of that. What’s your story?”

“Just this. The kid went on watch with me. As you told me, I kept him close alongside. He didn’t hev no shootin’ iron, so I rode back to camp to git one. When I got back to the Rio he was gone.”

“Gone?”

“That’s what.”

“Have you looked for him?”

“Beat the brush frum San Antone to breakfus’, but ther ain’t no sign uv hair nor hide uv him.”

“You saw the other men?”

“Sure!”

“Did they know nothing?”

“Not a thing. But the kid couldn’t hev passed in either direction without goin’ up in an air ship.”

“None of your jokes. This is serious. Answer my questions. You left him where?”

“Not far from the foot of the trail to the waterin’ place.”

“You told him to stay there?”

“Sure thing. You see I lef’ him ter git him a shootin’ iron. I didn’t think it was right that he shouldn’t be heeled. The greasers – ”

“All right, never mind that part of it. Well, you got the gun?”

“Yes; and when I took it back fer him ther kid had gone.”

“How long did all this take?”

“Waal, I’ve bin huntin’ fer ther dern little pinto ever since. But I should say that I rode to camp and back in about half an hour. You see, I hurried.”

“Humph! You found no sign of trouble when you got back?”

“Nary a bit. All wuz quiet as a Chink’s funeral in Tombstone.”

“Had the others heard nothing while you were away?”

“Not a sound so fur as they told me.”

“It’s not possible to ford the river at that point?”

“Boss, a cayuse couldn’t swim it, the current’s that swift.”

“That’s so, too, I thought for a moment that the boy might have foolishly tried to cross into Mexican territory.”

“Ef he did, it’s flowers fer his’n ef we ever find him,” declared Baldy piously.

“Let us hope it is not as bad as that. But it is most mysterious.”

“Very consterious,” agreed Baldy. “You see, there were men to the east and west of where the kid was, and they didn’t hear nor see nothing.”

“And yet the boy has vanished.”

“Waal, he ain’t ter be found,” admitted Baldy, ignoring the long word.

Captain Atkinson sat up in his blankets lost in thought. At length Baldy ventured to break in on the silence.

“What yer goin’ ter do, boss? Ther young maverick may be needin’ help right now and needin’ it bad, too.”

“That’s correct, Baldy. We must take some action at once. But the case is so puzzling that I hardly know what to do about it. Jack Merrill didn’t impress me as the kind of boy that would run needlessly into danger.”

“No; ther young pinto had some hoss sense,” admitted Baldy, flicking his chaps with his quirt.

“That being the case, how are we to account for his disappearance? If he had been attacked by greasers there would have been some noise, some disturbance.”

“Maybe he jes’ fell in ther Rio and was drown–ded,” suggested Baldy.

“I don’t think that. Jack Merrill is an athletic lad, and among other things, I am told, a first–class swimmer. No, we have to figure on some other line.”

“Waal, I’m free to admit that I’m up a tree, boss,” grunted Baldy.

By this time Captain Atkinson was out of his blankets and hastily drawing on his chaps and pulling his blue cowboy shirt over his head. When his boots had been drawn on and spurs adjusted he ordered Baldy to saddle his pony and bring it over. As soon as this was done the Captain of the Rangers and Baldy rode out of the camp as silently as possible and made their way to the river. But all Captain Atkinson’s questioning failed to elicit any more facts than he had been able to glean from Baldy. There was nothing left to do but to wait for daybreak to make an examination for tracks that might throw some light on the mystery.

In the meantime Ralph and Walt were informed of Jack’s mysterious disappearance. To Captain Atkinson’s astonishment, they did not appear nearly so much alarmed as he had feared. Instead, they accepted the news with almost stoical faces.

“You think that Jack is safe, then?” asked the captain of the Rangers. “At any rate, you don’t seem much worried about him.”

“It’s not our way to worry till we know we have good cause to, Captain,” rejoined Ralph. “If Jack has vanished, I’m willing to swear that he is off on some sort of duty connected with the Rangers. Possibly he had not time to report back before leaving. Depend upon it, Jack will come out all right.”

“That’s my idea, too,” declared Walt stoutly.

“Well, I admire the confidence you boys have in your leader,” declared Captain Atkinson warmly, “but just the same as soon as it’s daylight I mean to start a thorough investigation, and if harm has come to him it will go hard with those that caused it.”

CHAPTER XII.

A BAFFLING PURSUIT

But a close scrutiny of the river banks by daylight failed to reveal anything more definite than a maze of trampled footmarks and broken brush at the spot where Jack had encountered his combat with the three Mexican spies. Captain Atkinson, one of the most expert of men in the plainsman’s art of reading signs from seemingly insignificant features, confessed that he was baffled.

“It is plain enough that Jack was involved in some sort of a fight,” he said, “but beyond that I cannot say. The most puzzling thing about his disappearance, in fact, lies in the absence of pony tracks. I can’t imagine how whoever it was attacked him reached this vicinity without being heard by the sentries east and west of the trail.”