The Border Boys with the Mexican Rangers

The officer of the Rangers, whose name was Antonio Del Rio, carefully rolled a brown paper cigarette and lighted it before he glanced up at the troubled young countenance before him.

“I think you are right, senor. During your absence he and his band must have surprised the camp and carried your amigos off as prisoners, that is, unless they themselves have taken to the trail.”

“And leave me behind! Not likely. No, senor, they have met with some foul play.”

“I proffer you my services and those of my Rangers,” was the prompt rejoinder, “we will set out at once.”

“But the question is, in which direction shall we go?” asked Jack, frankly bewildered.

“Wait. I will call Juan Andreas. He is the most expert tracker in the Rurales, and if there is a chance of picking up their trail, he will do it.”

Andreas proved to be a small, shrivelled Mexican on a “paint” or spotted pony. Jack saw that his eyes flashed like those of an old hunting dog, as, in obedience to his superior’s command, he slipped from his pony and began running about in the surrounding woods, crouching low, with his nose almost on the ground.

Suddenly he stopped, straightened up, and with a gesture almost regal, he raised a hand and pointed to the west.

“They go that way,” he said in Mexican.

The young officer nodded. The notes of the bugle rang out, and an instant later the camp site was once more deserted as the cavalcade dashed off through the dense woods in hot pursuit of the missing men and boys.

It is now time that we inquire for ourselves just what was happening and had happened to Ralph, Walt, Coyote Pete and the professor. After Jack had left the camp then, the professor with his geological hammer had started out to get specimens, of which he already had several pounds, much to Coyote Pete’s disgust.

He wandered down the canyon and had perhaps gone further than he intended, when suddenly he was seized from behind, his arms pinioned and the cold muzzle of a pistol pressed to the back of his neck.

“Now march,” came a crisp order, and the man of science, being also a man of discernment, “marched.” He did not dare to turn his head, but from the trampling of hoofs behind him he judged that several men must be following in his wake. Before long he found that they were undoubtedly headed for the Border Boys’ camp. But he dared make no outcry, for the old man had guessed already that his captors must be Black Ramon’s men, and he knew that they held human life no dearer than so much dust.

Arrived near to the camp, the old man was tied to a tree and gagged, and then his captors, whom he now recognized as Ramon’s band, scattered among the trees in such a manner that they completely encircled the camp. All at once one of them began to make a peculiar sound, – a perfect imitation of the “gur-gur-gur-gobble” of the wild turkey.

How the professor longed to warn the boys of the crafty trap that was being set for them! But he was powerless to do anything. As the wily band of marauders had guessed, the “skirling” of the supposed turkey was enough to set the camp agog. Snatching up shotguns, Walt and Ralph plunged off into the underbrush. They had not gone twenty paces before the brigands, noiselessly as panthers, seized and bound them, old coats being held over their heads to prevent their making any outcry. This done, they were bound to the same tree as the professor.

The capture of Coyote Pete alone, now remained to be accomplished. For, as we know, though the marauders were not aware of the fact, Jack was far from the camp at the time. But in Coyote the Mexicans caught a Tartar. The old plainsman was frying some bacon, stooping low over the coals, when the sharp crack of a twig behind him caught his attentive ear. Like a flash he bounded erect, but not before the muzzles of a dozen rifles were aimed at him from the underbrush.

Black Ramon was taking no chances with Coyote Pete, whom he knew both by reputation and experience.

For one instant, as he took in the situation, Coyote was still as a figure carved from marble. Only the heaving of his chest under his blue shirt showed that he was, for him, considerably startled.

Suddenly, and without the slightest warning, the old plainsman crouched low, and then dashing straight at the nearest Mexican, seized him by the legs, and before the others had recovered their senses, he had hurled the fellow backward by an expert wrestling trick. The astonished Mexican alighted in the midst of the campfire, overturning the spider, from which he was plentifully sprinkled with scalding bacon fat.

In this way Coyote, cut off from reaching his own weapons, managed to possess himself of a rifle.

“Now,” he shouted, “the first varmint that fires at me gets some of this lead. I may only have one shot, but I’ll make that one tell.”

A storm of bullets was the result, but Coyote with that quick foresight which was his characteristic, threw himself flat behind a large rock, with the result that the leaden hail spattered against the solid stone.

Suddenly a figure on a black horse rode into the little clearing. It was Ramon himself. Without the slightest hesitation Coyote threw up his rifle to his shoulder, and, disregarding his own danger, fired point blank at the outlaw leader.

But for once Coyote Pete’s aim was at fault. Ramon was not even scratched by the missile.

“Gosh!” exclaimed Pete, “I begin ter think thar is suthin’ in that story that he bears a charmed life arter all. I had a plum bead on him and – ”

In his astonishment at his missing such an easy shot, the cow-puncher had not noticed several forms creeping through the dark woods behind him. Before he had a chance to defend himself, he was dealt a mighty blow on the back of the head by a “clubbed” rifle in the hands of one of the outlaws whose head was encircled by a big bandage.

“Take that for the blow you struck me at the rancho,” grunted the fellow, as Pete, spreading his arms, fell forward like a stunned ox. The man who had dealt the blow was the same whom Pete had knocked off the ladder on that memorable night at the lonely rancho.

“Pick him up and place him with the others,” ordered Ramon, without the slightest trace of any emotion whatever showing on his copper-colored face.

This order was swiftly carried out, and the consternation of the others may be imagined when they saw the cow-puncher’s lanky form being carried by two of the raiders. They had heard the shots and at first they feared that Pete was dead, but to their relief, the next minute, they overheard Ramon remark:

“Throw him upon his horse when you bring it up. He’ll be all right in a short time.”

Presently the boys, with eyes that flamed with indignation, saw the Mexicans leading up their stock, not forgetting the pack burros, whose burdens had been hastily hitched on.

“Caramba, but I would like to lay my hands on that other one, that Merrill boy, more than all the rest,” snarled Ramon through his yellow teeth. “Take the gag out of that boy’s mouth yonder, and ask him where Jack Merrill is,” commanded Ramon of one of his men, none other in fact than the Acosta for whom Jack had been mistaken.

Ralph was the prisoner designated by Ramon, and not a little relieved was he to have the not-over clean bit of cloth, with which his mouth had been stopped, removed from his teeth.

“Now then,” blustered Ramon, “where is Jack Merrill?”

“Far from here and on a mission to Santa Anita,” retorted Ralph boldly. He was an honest lad, but in such a case deceit was the only course possible. If he had told the truth, the bandits were quite capable of hiding and waiting for the boy, thus enmeshing the whole party.

“What has he gone there for? Be careful, boy, and speak the truth.”

“To get the Mexican Rangers to run down all such rascals as you,” was the bold reply, and one which an instant later Ralph wished he had bitten out his tongue before he made.

“Well, that being the case, forewarned is forearmed, as you say in your country,” rejoined Ramon. Then in Spanish he gave orders to mount immediately. First, however, he presented Jack’s pony Firewater to Acosta, as a recompense, presumably, for the loss of the latter’s own animal.

The boys and the professor were hustled into saddles and their legs tied together under the ponies’ bellies. Ramon stood by looking on sardonically while this was being done.

“You are not at the lone rancho now,” he chuckled, “but in the heart of the most lonesome range of mountains in Mexico. That was a clever trick of yours to escape with the senorita, but now you are going to pay for it. Ah, yes, I shall have a revenge, and such a revenge it will be, too!” He showed his long yellow fangs as he spoke, and chuckled hideously. In spite of their determination to be calm, the lads shuddered a bit. But the professor stared stonily at the ruffian.

“Am I to understand that it is your intention to abduct us?” he demanded.

“It is,” was the rejoinder, “I mean to make you useful to me in many ways. As my slaves in Trembling Mountain I’ll make you wish every hour of the day that you had never tried to thwart Black Ramon. Forward!”

At the command the band dashed off. Coyote Pete, still unconscious, tied to the saddle of his horse. The boys’ gags had been removed, as had the professor’s of course, and as the rush of hoofs drowned other sounds, Walt found an opportunity to say to Ralph:

“Thank goodness, old Jack’s still at large. Depend upon it, he’ll find some way to get the Mexican Rangers and help us out of this.”

But Ralph shook his head.

“We’re at the last ditch now, Walt,” he replied. “I don’t see a chance for us.”

CHAPTER XIX

WHAT COYOTE DID

Coyote Pete, as Ramon had prophesied, came out of his swoon before long. His return to consciousness was enlivened by some of the most picturesque language the Mexicans had ever heard. But as Coyote had been tied to the saddle he could not relieve his mind otherwise than by using all the opprobrious names he could select from a copious vocabulary. Now it was a peculiarity of Pete’s that he never swore, – that is, actually used bad language, – but he had invented a language all his own to express his feelings when angry. Set down on paper it would look tame, but as Coyote Pete used it, it was tremendous, – exterminating almost.

But after his first outbreak, Coyote remained unusually calm. He was thinking with all his might, but all his thinking did not bring him any nearer to a solution of their difficulties. They were in the hands of the most bloodthirsty band of rascals in Mexico. Even if they escaped, they would be bound to perish miserably in those rugged wilds without food or the weapons to procure any. The nearest settlement, Pete knew, must be at least two hundred miles away, and probably more.