CONCLUSION
The waking of the men was a matter of seconds merely. A touch on the
shoulder and the man touched was on his feet as if propelled by
springs, hand instinctively going to the revolver dangling from his
belt.
Tad, now keenly alive to what was going on, had partially thrown the
blankets off, Chunky having done the same.
"Don't stir. I'll tell you when it is time to move," warned Tad.
"Men, I've changed my mind," announced the leader. "Are you ready for
a fight?"
"Sure we are if it's Rangers you want us to fight," answered a voice.
"Yes, it's the same old crowd, and a bunch of youngsters thrown in. I
don't know what the trouble is, but they're racing around out there
with torches---"
"Mebby they've found the trail," suggested one.
"No, I reckon some of the youngsters have strayed away and got lost.
All the better for us. The Rangers won't be looking for us."
"They have left their rifles in the camp. They've got their revolvers
with them, of course. Take your rifles. Put out all the lights, then
while the watch is being kept we'll step out and give them a volley.
Be careful to get to one side of the opening so we don't draw their
attention too sharply to the opening. That might leave some marks and
lead them to investigate when day comes. We'll be a long way from
here by that time, but I hope we'll leave a few dead Rangers behind us."
Dunk Tucker was grinning broadly. This was the opportunity for which
he had longed.
"Sneak out quietly. Take a good aim. Give them a rattler of a volley.
Every man pick his mark. You can't miss. I'll look for McKay. But
don't all aim at the same mark or you won't do much damage."
Tad could not repress a shudder. He realized the desperateness of
Willie Jones' character fully now. A man who could plan such a
cold-blooded crime could have no heart. And the worst of it was that
Tad saw no way to prevent the crime.
"How about it up there?"
"They're over in the bush now."
"I want them when they are just outside the bush. If their backs are
turned toward us, all the better. We'll give them a hot dose that will
give them something to think about," jeered Willie.
"Well, isn't he the cold-blooded fish?" whispered Chunky. "I'd like to
take a pot shot at him right where he stands."
"So should I," answered Tad. "But I couldn't do it, bad as he is."
"No, I guess it wouldn't be exactly prudent," returned the fat boy.
"That wasn't what I meant. Prudence hasn't anything to do with it.
It would be cold-blooded."
"Ready! Work the lever," commanded the captain as the voice of the
lookout called down the one word "Right!"
"Get ready," whispered Tad. "I'm going to bolt. Don't make a sound.
We may lose our lives, but I'm going to save the others. If I shoot,
drop in your tracks, but be careful not to drop in the opening. Now
think as you never thought before!"
"Wha---what are you going to do?" stammered the fat boy.
"Watch me. I can't explain it to you now. There goes the tree."
The operation of the huge bulk was very simple. One of the men
procured a long pole from a crevice in the rock. This he thrust down
under the roots of the tree, adjusted it and then began working the
pole as one would a pump handle. The tree began to rise at once.
Tad saw that the outlaw was working a pneumatic jack, on which he
figured a piece of timber had been placed so as not to crumble the
dirt from the roots when the bulk was raised by the jack. From the
outside the bandits no doubt used the same method that the Pony Rider
Boys had used to gain an entrance.
"Keep clear of the opening and don't shoot until we're all ready.
One volley will be enough, then back and trip the jack. All ready!"
The men began creeping out, Willie Jones in the lead.
"Now!" whispered Tad. "Follow me! Look out for squalls! Things
will happen rapidly when they begin."
The boys crept out, following the outlaws as closely as they dared.
Once outside the bandits quickly skulked off to one side or the other.
"Get down quick!" whispered Tad.
"Bang, bang, bang!"
Tad Butler fired three shots from his revolver, then threw himself
on the ground. Almost with the first shot he heard the voice of the
Ranger captain. McKay, ever on the alert, was not caught napping.
"Throw torches away! Down!" he roared.
A thundering volley crashed from the rifles of the outlaws, answered
by a rattling fire from the revolvers of the Rangers. Tad heard an
outlaw utter an exclamation of pain and knew that one at least of
the bad men had been raked by a bullet.
"Back!" came the command from the leader of the bandits. The word
was not spoken loud enough to be heard far away, but every man there
heard it, and back they rushed into the cave. A shower of dirt fell
over the two Pony Rider Boys, who were by this time crawling on all
fours to get away from the tree that they knew would come down with
a bump.
It did. The Rangers were still shooting. Tad and Stacy were in a
dangerous position. The Rangers were firing right over them. The
instant the boys heard the base of the tree fall into place, Tad
uttered the owl call.
"Don't shoot, don't shoot!" howled Chunky.
"It's the boys! Stand fast. Lie low!" commanded the Ranger captain.
"Something is going on here that we don't know about."
A moment later Tad and Chunky came staggering into the arms of their
friends.
"Surround the base of the tree. They're in the cave," cried Tad.
"Wait, wait!" commanded the Ranger.
In the cave the outlaws were beginning to think. Tad's shots had been
laid to the carelessness of one of the men. Each one denied that he
had fired them.
"That was a signal. Somebody here is a traitor!" cried the leader.
Out there in front of the cave Tad was rapidly whispering to the
Ranger captain what had occurred. He told him the bandits were all
in the cave and that he believed the only exit was there behind the
roots of the big tree.
"Boys, we've got 'em!" cried Billy. "We've got 'em in a trap.
Hurrah! Tad, you've saved the lives of some of us. That was as brave
a thing as ever a Ranger did and I'll tell you what I think about it
after we have smoked those ruffians out."
The smoking-out process was a matter of some time. At the captain's
direction, a row of fires was built in front of the cave so that none
of the outlaws could escape. On each side of the row of bonfires
McKay placed flanking parties who stood with rifles ready to train
on the opening should the bandits seek to escape.
All that night and the following day did the Rangers keep silent
watch over the cave. The second night fires were built up as before,
and part of the force stood watch while the others slept on the
ground with rifles for pillows.
It was not until about noon of the third day that any sign of life
was observed in the cave. Willie Jones hailed the captain, declaring
that he was ready to surrender. Terms were quickly made. The men
were to walk out singly, leaving their arms in the cave. There was
no need to caution Willie Jones as to what would follow the least
sign of treachery. He knew without being told. Grim Rangers were
standing on one side so that they should have a clear shooting space
in front of them. Billy McKay stood directly facing the opening, as
if for the purpose of tempting one of those desperate men in there
to take a shot at him. None had the pluck to try it.
Jones was the first one out. He was manacled and searched. One by
one the bandits emerged until every man was a prisoner.
That afternoon all were on their way to El Paso. It would be many
years before they would again terrorize the Rio Grande border if at
all, for there were many charges against them. Among the charges
preferred against the bandits was that of aiding the Germans by
stirring up trouble on the border. Not a man confessed, but while
the government was unable to prove this particular charge, it was
positive that in the arrest of this desperate gang a nest of dangerous
traitors had been broken up.
The entire credit for the capture was given to the two Pony Rider Boys,
Tad Butler and Stacy Brown. The Pony Rider Boys party accompanied the
Rangers to El Paso, whence, later on, they continued their journey down
the Rio Grande. The boys were praised by every one for their bravery,
and especially were Tad and Stacy, who had so bravely risked their own
lives to save the lives of their young companions and the Rangers.
A big reward was earned by the Rangers, but at Captain McKay's
suggestion, a thousand dollars was turned over to Professor Zepplin to
be divided between Tad and Chunky later on. The professor's protests
availed him nothing. McKay said the professor might throw the money
in the gutter if he didn't want it, so the professor sent the thousand
dollars to the father of Walter Perkins. That gentleman deposited it
to the credit of the two plucky young lads, though it was some time ere
they knew the existence of this special fund, all their own.
It was the last night in camp before ending their wonderful outing, and
every one was solemn-eyed and thoughtful. Their playspell was at an
end and they were sad. Tad and Ned were speaking of the war, each
confiding his desire to the other, to get into the fight, and
expressing his intention of doing so soon.
"Professor," called Tad. "We know of course how you feel on the
subject, but this is a good time for us all to make our confessions,
on this the last night of our season's outing, and know where we stand
on the war."
"We are all patriots here," interjected Walter Perkins.
"All but one and he's a German," spoke up Stacy Brown. "I refer to
that noble man, Professor Zepplin, first cousin to the airship known
as a Zeppelin---"
Professor Zepplin's whiskers fairly bristled.
"Young man, that will do!" he thundered. "I am an American citizen,
and you have no right to question my loy-----"
"There, there, Professor, don't you know Chunky by this time? All he
wished was to draw your fire and stir you up, which I reckon he's
done," soothed Tad laughingly.
Stacy chuckled under his breath, at the same time keeping a weather
eye out for any hostile move that Professor Zepplin might make, for
the professor plainly was excited.
"That is all very well, young men," returned the professor. "I know
that you know what my Americanism is. I have no need to tell you
that, but, as Tad says, this is a good time for us all to declare our
loyalty, and we should reiterate it every day of our lives."
"That's the talk," cried Ned Rector.
"As you boys know, I was born in Germany. I attended a German military
school and, to cut the story short, I became a German officer. I fought
in many battles---"
"At the battle of the Nile he was fitting all the while," murmured the
fat boy under his breath. Tad rebuked Stacy with a look.
"One day, after I had served my time, I emigrated to America. It was
not until then that I realized that I had been wrong, that I had been
upholding an unworthy cause. That was years ago. Soon I had absorbed
the spirit of American liberty and became at one with its ideals.
I became a citizen. Of course I looked back on my army experience with
a certain amount of pride. No one who has fought and bled can help
doing that---up to a certain point."
"I can well understand that," murmured Tad. "I think I know how you
felt."
"When Germany made war on little Belgium and France my pride of
service turned to regret. I was sorry deep down in my heart that
I had served the Fatherland, but I rejoiced that I was then an American,
a loyal American. It was when---when the despicable Huns sank the
Lusitania, the most dastardly crime in the world's history, that my
soul was suddenly filled with loathing. I offered my services to the
country of my adoption, believing that they would go to war at once,
but I was too old, and then America was not yet prepared for the
great conflict. Since we went to war I have again offered my
services. I can still fight, young men."
"I should say you can," interjected Tad.
"My name, at this time, is an unfortunate one," continued the professor.
"It is not the name, but the heart that counts, and my heart is in and
for America, and my life and all that I have or ever shall have is
hers for the asking."
The Pony Rider Boys with one accord sprang to their feet and, tossing
their hats in the air, uttered a wild cowboy yell. Professor Zepplin
held up a hand.
"Wait!" he commanded. "There is something yet to be done and now is
the time to do it." Thrusting a hand into a pocket he drew forth a
leather case and opened it with unsteady fingers. From the case he
drew a small object wrapped in tissue paper.
"The Iron Cross," murmured the boys.
"Yes, it is the Iron Cross," agreed the professor. "Time was when this
was my most priceless possession. Now I loathe it. Its possession has
troubled me greatly of late and it has been my intention to rid myself
of the hateful thing. Boys, what shall be done with it?"
"That is for you to say, Professor," answered Tad in a low voice.
"Get an axe," advised Chunky.
"Yes, yes, the axe," agreed the professor.
Tad handed the tool to the professor. The latter placed the once
prized decoration on a stone and with one blow from the axe smashed
the cross. Blow after blow he rained on the medal until it lay
scattered in pieces. These the professor gathered up and hurled far
from him.
"That is what I think of Germany, monarchial Germany, the assassin of
innocent women and children."
"Boys, 'The Star-spangled Banner,'" cried Tad after a moment of
impressive silence.
The youthful voices of the Pony Rider Boys rose in the National anthem,
the deep bass voice of Professor Zepplin booming out above all the rest.
When next we meet our boys we shall find them in utterly different
surroundings. In the next volume of the present series our readers
will find an extremely fascinating tale. It is published under the
title, _The Pony Rider Boys On The Blue Ridge; Or, A Lucky Find in
the Carolina Mountains_.
THE END