The Border Boys with the Mexican Rangers

CHAPTER XXI

THE CAPTAIN PLAYS A TRICK

All at once, as they reached a part of the canyon where it narrowed into a mere defile, something came rattling down the side of the steep wall to the right. It was a dislodged pebble, but it caused the advancing corps to look up swiftly.

Above them, outlined against the sky, were several figures, – those undoubtedly of the men of whom they were in search. As they were still looking upward, the men on the cliff summit began to pump down lead, the bullets singing and droning and pattering about them like a leaden hail storm.

“Hot work,” grunted Pete, noting with enthusiasm the absolute collectedness of the leader of the Rangers. He gave a sharp command and his men swung into single file and pulled their ponies over till they were riding so close to the rock wall of the canyon that it was necessary for the riders to throw one leg up on the saddle. This made it impossible for the marksmen on the summit to pick them off, for the cliff hung outward a little.

“As I thought, the rascals were prepared for us,” said the young officer, “how far is it now, Senor Coyote, to the camp?”

“Ten minutes should bring us thar, – ah!”

A big rock hurled from above struck the ground in front of and a little to one side of the advancing cavalcade. It split to pieces from the force of its impact.

“If that had hit anyone his troubles would hev bin over,” snorted Pete without turning a hair.

Jack paled a little, though. In a few seconds they would reach a part of the canyon where they could no longer crowd in under the slightly overhanging cliff. At this point they would be exposed to the full fury of any rifle fire or stone volley which the brigands above might pour down on them.

But the officer of the Rangers had, it seemed, anticipated this. He ordered one of his men to dismount and remove his regimentals. This done, the empty garments were filled with brush and leaves, and the sombrero was tied securely to the upper part of the dummy, which, at a distance, and particularly from above, would resemble pretty closely a real man.

The dummy was then mounted on a pony, a lame animal and not good for much. After its “rider” had been securely fastened in place, the pony was given a couple of whacks with the Rangers’ long quirts, and frenzied with excitement it plunged forward.

These operations had all been carried on in the shadow of the overhanging cliff, and those above had no knowledge of the trick that was to be played on them till they saw the apparently daring rider suddenly dash from the shelter. Instantly a volley of rifle shots was poured down upon the dummy, and a veritable avalanche of mighty rocks and boulders were hurled downward. The luckless pony galloped bravely down through this inferno of bullets and missiles, only to have its life exterminated by a quick-killing bullet after about five minutes of flight.

“Now, senors!”

The young officer, his eyes aflame, dashed forward, followed by his Rangers and our adventurers. The Ranger, whose pony had been sacrificed, was carried on the back of another trooper’s saddle. In a minute they were in the open and a howl of fury from above testified how thoroughly the outlaws had been tricked. Their fire had been drawn and they had exhausted the available supply of large rocks on the dummy!

As the column dashed across the unprotected space, a scattering fire whistled about them, but no more injury than a few punctured saddles and a damaged hat or two was done. The next instant the cavalcade swept out of the canyon and into the small plateau where the camp of the night before had been made.

A delighted shout burst from Jack’s lips, and was echoed instantly by Coyote Pete as they perceived, still tied and bound, their companions in adventure. A feeble cry answered them, and an instant later the reunited party was furiously shaking hands, slapping backs and jumping about in a thousand ecstatic antics, while the Rangers looked on, shrugging their shoulders at the mad Gringoes, and rolling cigarettes.

“Shall we pursue the outlaws?” asked Jack, after the first transports were over and comparative quiet had settled down.

The officer shook his head.

“It would be useless now. We have scattered them and let us hope that we have heard the last of them. It will be my duty, however, to keep a constant lookout for them.”

To the boys’ delight, their stolen stock was all there, too. Firewater whinnied delightedly as he saw his young master, and even the burros seemed to take part in the general rejoicing. While the brigands had made some inroads on the boys’ provisions, there still remained enough food to last them, with care, on the remainder of their dash for the Trembling Mountain.

After the tension of the last few hours it was delightful to feel a sense of security once more. Their enemies were scattered and it was unlikely that the band would attempt any more high-handed methods. Should they do so, however, it would be too late, for before they set forward on the last stage of their journey the adventurers arranged with the captain to meet him and his Rangers at a spot near the Trembling Mountain in three days’ time.

The young officer willingly agreed, but expressed some curiosity as to the nature of their quest. He was informed that the object of the expedition was a scientific one, to investigate the reports of the relics of a forgotten race that lay within the bowels of the mountain.

Jack parted with the Rangers with regret. He had come to admire them for their dash, courage and resource. They were ideal troops for the rough country they patrolled and kept in order by rough and ready methods. The young officer, too, felt much regard for Senor Jack, as he called him.

So a few hours after the reunion in the outlaws’ abandoned camp, the two parties set out in different directions. The Rangers followed the course they assumed that Ramon had taken in his flight, while our adventurers struck out for the smoking peaks which were now much nearer than when they had had their first sight of them. They traveled the rest of that day at a good speed, and sunset found them camped in a pleasant little valley where the broad-fronded banana tree grew, whose fruit afforded a welcome addition to their menu.

The next day, at noon, the professor, after making an observation, announced that they were then within a few hours’ travel of the Trembling Mountain. This announcement was, in fact, hardly necessary, for all day a mighty peak, from whose snow-covered summit there issued a lazy roll of smoke, had overshadowed their way. Everybody guessed that the frowning acclivity was the mountain for which they had come so far in quest.

Late afternoon brought them to its base, and with his measuring instruments the professor, an hour after camp had been pitched, located the entrance which no other American, assuredly, had ever passed. Their pulses beat swift and hard, as the lads and Coyote followed the old man over the rock-strewn slopes to the spot.

Amid a grove of dark, sombre trees, – somehow suggesting a sacrificial grove, – lay the entrance to the Trembling Mountain. All felt a sense of mystical awe as they stood in the solemn shadows. It was as if they had come under the spell of some tremendous brooding presence. Quite unconsciously they spoke in whispers.

It was the same feeling that overcomes one in the aisle of some mighty cathedral. As if to accentuate the similarity of impression, the wind sighing softly in the dark, dome-shaped trees, sounded like a solemn chant, now high and tremulous, now low in a rumbling diapason that thrilled.

CHAPTER XXII

THE DWELLING OF A VANISHED RACE

“Gee, it’s kind of lonesome, ain’t it?” said Pete, expressing exactly what they all felt.

Although they now stood in the presence of the long-sought goal, somehow each one of the party felt uncomfortably impressed. A nameless fear hung about the place. It was with difficulty that they shook off the feeling and examined the surroundings further.

The entrance to the cave itself must have escaped observation had one not known it was there. It was square, with a mighty cross-bar of unhewn stone supporting its summit. In this cross-bar were cut some rude hieroglyphics, but even the professor, savant though he was, could not hazard a guess at their meaning.

The professor, alone, seemed unimpressed by the gloomy majesty and mystery of the place. His eyes burned with a scientific fire and he rubbed his hands briskly together.

“At last!” he breathed, as if in an ecstasy, “who knows what unknown treasures we may reveal to the world, beyond that portal!”

“Shall we go inside?” asked Jack presently.

“We might as well now as at any other time,” said the professor, “Ralph, will you and Walter go back to the camp and get the torches?”

The lads at once hastened off on their errand. Truth to tell, they were each rather glad to get, for a short time only, out of the spell of that somber spot.

The torches referred to were of the kerosene variety, but specially made to burn for twenty-four hours continuously. They had been made to the professor’s order for the expedition.

The boys returned shortly with the illuminants. Ralph also brought a supply of matches and a canteen of water, and both boys had stuffed their pockets full of what food they could hastily get together. The professor praised their foresight and then, from his own pocket, produced a huge spool of coarse, strong thread.

“I took the hint from the classics,” he said, “you all recollect the tale of the labyrinth? Well, we will make this thread fast at the entrance, and as we go along we will unwind it. In that way if we get lost we can find our way back by feeling along the thread.”

“That’s a splendid idea,” cried Jack, “I tell you I shouldn’t much fancy the idea of going in there, unless I was pretty sure how I was going to get out again.”

“I don’t blame you,” said the professor, “and now are we all ready?”

“All right!” came in a chorus, and led by the man of science, the adventurers crossed the mystic threshold. A thrill shot through even Coyote Pete, the least impressible of the party, as they did so. How long had it been since the race of ancient dwellers of the Chinipal had swarmed those subterranean corridors, now as silent as midnight?

The torches soon became necessary for the passage sloped abruptly downward from the portal. The smoky light showed them that they were in a sort of corridor, seemingly hewn out of the rock. It was about ten feet in width and some eight or nine in height. The floor was worn almost concave by the constant tread of the feet that had passed and repassed in the bygone ages.

For some distance the sloping passage ran on, and then they suddenly found themselves in a vaulted chamber where their footsteps rang echoingly. Great stalactites hung from the roof glittering whitely as the torch light fell upon them.

“This is magnificent!” breathed the professor, “a wonderland of science.” His voice, raised a little in his enthusiasm, went booming and reverberating hollowly through the place. From the remotest corners there came rumbling back echo-like the last words of his exclamation.

“I guess we had better not talk so loud,” said Ralph, shivering a bit at this uncanny manifestation.

“No, somebody might hear you,” scoffed Walt, who was putting on an air of great assurance. Suddenly he emitted a yell and jumped about four feet. Something had crept up behind him in the darkness and laid a cold hand on the back of his neck. It was Coyote Pete who had noted the boy’s arrogance and wanted to give him a lesson. After that Walt was as quiet as a lamb.