The Border Boys with the Mexican Rangers

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?

CHAPTER XIII

SENORITA ALVERADO

But the next minute, to their infinite relief, they decided that it was only a false alarm. In all probability, so Jack surmised, it signified that the Mexicans had broken through the roof and were firing a volley of shots into the garret to terrify its supposed inmates. He could hardly forbear a chuckle as he pictured the outlaws’ astonishment, when, tired of their attempts to terrify, they should penetrate the garret and find it empty of life.

“Providence willing, we’ll be far away by then,” he thought to himself as, with a wave of his arm, he signalled to the others crouching in the shadows of the rancho, that all was ready.

The senorita laughed at the idea of a side saddle, when Jack apologetically indicated to her the ordinary Mexican affair which had been the only one they could raise.

“A girl born and brought up on a Mexican hidalgo’s estancia can ride in any saddle, senor,” she said, “more particularly to oblige such gallant rescuers.”

Jack felt himself coloring under his minstrel-like coating of soot as the girl spoke. The lad was somewhat susceptible, and the dark eyes of the senorita had made quite an impression on him.

“The pleasure is all ours, senorita,” he said, with a vague recollection of having seen that phrase in print somewhere.

The young Mexican girl sat her saddle as lightly as a bird on a bough, and the mount they had selected for her, – “borrowing” one of the outlaws’ animals for the purpose, – was a fine, springy-stepping creature, full of life and action.

“I guess our best plan is to head for Don Alverado’s estancia,” said Jack, as they crept as noiselessly as possible forward.

But, as a matter of fact, much caution was not necessary, for the Mexicans in the rancho, confident of having bottled up the Americans, were making so much noise that the light amble of the horses could not be heard above the roar. Their chief danger lay in being seen.

This, however, was not so probable as might be imagined. The corral was separated from the house by quite a small plantation of willows and cottonwoods, among whose branches the moonlight filtered thinly. Once they had rounded the corral they would be practically invisible.

The senorita informed them that it was ten miles from there to Santa Anita, in the suburbs of which her father lived. This, as we are aware, Jack already knew, and the corral once rounded their steeds were set at a lively gait.

“Are there any police in Santa Anita, senorita?” asked the professor, as they rode rapidly through the night, the well-fed horses, refreshed by their rest, pacing strongly forward. The professor was a great stickler for law and order.

“No police, senor,” was the rejoinder, “but it is the headquarters of the Mexican Rangers who have charge of the district. My father is the local magistrate and administrator, and has charge of them.”

“I sincerely hope that he will set them on the track of those ruffians,” said the man of science severely, “Mexico should be known as a land of law and order like the United States.”

“Yet I have heard that you occasionally have train robbers and all sorts of terrible criminals in the United States, senor.”

The senorita spoke gently, but like all of her race, she was patriotic and a flash of fire was in her eye as she spoke.

“But we try to get rid of them, senorita,” stammered the scientist, somewhat taken aback at this self-possessed young lady’s reply.

“And so do we, senor,” was the answer, which caused Coyote Pete to chuckle, “but you see, they won’t always wait to be caught.”

“You speak English charmingly, senorita,” said the professor, in an endeavor to change the subject and pay a compliment at the same time.

“That is to the credit of one of your American colleges, senor. I was educated at Vassar University.”

The boys exchanged glances. So that explained the senorita’s poise and self-possession, which were far more those of an American girl than of a languishing Spanish beauty.

“I must compliment Vassar,” said the professor, bowing his angular form. But he had forgotten that he was riding bareback and was not the most accomplished of horsemen in any event. His attempt at courtliness almost caused his downfall, for, losing his balance, he would have slipped from his gaunt steed if he had not grasped it desperately by the wither lock with one hand while his arm encircled its neck.

From this undignified position he was rescued by Coyote Pete, who spurred swiftly to his side, – it will be recalled that Coyote had saved his spurs out of the general loss of property – and aided him to recover his balance.

They all had the grace to refrain from laughing, although the temptation was a sore one. The man of science, glancing suspiciously about him, was unable to detect the shadow of a smile on any of their faces, although the senorita did find it necessary to lean over and adjust her stirrup leather. When she looked up, however, her face was quite demure.

From time to time, as they rode forward over the level savannah, they glanced behind them. But the intervals grew longer as the distance between them and the Mexicans increased, and there was still no sign of pursuit.

“I guess they’ve discovered our escape, all right,” said Jack, “but don’t venture to chase us toward the town.”

“That’s it, I reckon,” said Coyote Pete, “and in any event, with our horses we could outdistance them all with a mile start.”

“All of them except that big black of Ramon’s,” said Jack.

“Guess you’re right,” agreed Coyote, “I’d like to know if there air any relatives of that animal hangin’ around. I’d buy ’em if it bust me. You don’t meet up with a bit of horseflesh like that every day of your life.”

An hour later, without any incident worthy of mention having occurred, they clattered through the sleeping town of Santa Anita, and, as daylight broke wanly, they found themselves outside the white walls surrounding the princely hacienda of the wealthy Don Alverado. But if the town was asleep, all seemed to be awake here. Lights could be seen flashing in the house which stood on a small eminence some distance from the outer walls.

As they neared the gate of the estate, it flew open and a dozen horsemen, fully armed, dashed out.

“Surrender, caballeros,” they cried in Mexican, “or we shall kill you without mercy.”

“Hold your horses,” hailed back Coyote Pete, quite oblivious of the fact that, in all probability, none of the horsemen understood that free and easy form of English.

But to the boys’ surprise the cow-puncher’s words were greeted with a shout of laughter from the advancing ranks, and a fresh young voice cried:

“Who are you, – for the love of Mike?”

“We are Americans who have brought back the Senorita Alverado,” cried Pete, and was going on, but his words were drowned in a ringing cheer. The next minute explanations ensued. It appeared that the party which had sallied out at their approach was made up of young American mining engineers, resident in the neighborhood, who, on hearing of Don Alverado’s loss, had at once formed themselves into a posse.

They had been starting out on a hunt for the abductors of the Don’s beautiful daughter when they heard the advance of our party. Surmising that it might be the outlaws returning to commit further outrages, they had concealed themselves and dashed out intent on capturing or killing the disturbers of law and order.

Their enthusiasm over the news of Senorita Isabella Alverado’s rescue knew no bounds. Wheeling their horses they dashed off up the broad drive leading to the house to inform the Don, – who was anxiously pacing his library, – of the good news. They were followed, at a more sober gait, by the Border Boys and their party.

“My poor father! He must have known heavy grief in the past few hours,” breathed the senorita, as they approached the house. Jack was struck by the unselfishness of the thought. Of herself the senorita made no mention nor of all that she had endured at the hands of the outlaws. It was only of her father that she appeared to think.

Don Alverado, a tall, dignified looking old Spanish gentleman, with a gray goatee and aristocratically pointed moustaches, stood on the steps of the porch as they came up. His daughter threw herself from her mount as they drew close, and rushing into her father’s arms, was held there for a brief interval. After his first emotion at recovering his daughter had subsided, Don Alverado bade the servants take the Americans’ horses, and came forward, warmly thanking them for their services. It made the boys feel rather shamefaced to be thanked in such emotional fashion, for the Don would insist on kissing each of them, and by the time he got through his face was almost as black as their own sooty countenances.

Then they entered the house where, after they had enjoyed refreshing baths, a hasty breakfast, but magnificent in its appointments, was served. In the meantime, Senorita Alverado had slipped upstairs and donned a clinging gown of black, in the bosom of which flashed an immense diamond. The boys gazed at the wearer of the gem with more admiration than at the stone itself. If Senorita Alverado had looked beautiful in the lone rancho she appeared absolutely regal now.

“I see you regarding that diamond with interest, gentlemen,” said Don Alverado, “it has an interesting history. It was the present to me many years since of a man who had received it from an Indian sheep herder. This man, according to my friend, had found a wonderful cave in some mountain that he called the Trembling Mountain. My friend tried to get him to give some detail, but the Indian declared that devils lived in the mountain who would kill him if they knew he had revealed the secret of their dwelling place to the outside world; so that except for the fact that there is the stone, – and you can see for yourselves it is a beautiful one, – I regret I can tell you no more details. But, even as it is, the diamond is doubly interesting outside of its intrinsic value on account of its history.”

As the professor made no mention of their own peculiar interest in the legend of the Trembling Mountain, Jack and the rest said nothing about it. But, perhaps, all their hearts beat a little faster at this convincing proof that the strange story of Mr. Stetson’s dead protege was true.