ON THE DESERT TRAIL
Eagerly Mr. Temple, Bob and Frank gathered around Jack, crowding to
read over his shoulders the missive left at camp by a messenger in an
airplane and brought to Ransome by Gabby Pete, the camp cook,
following Jack, who had gone to the little New Mexican town to meet
the party from the East.
The writing was cramped and foreign, as if the pen were wielded by a
hand more accustomed to form German script than English letters. The
missive was brief:
"Sir, this is to inform you that Mr. John Hampton is held in a secure
place. One hundred thousand dollars must be paid for his release. A
man riding alone must bring the money in United States bills of one
thousand dollars each to the Calomares ranch two weeks from today. He
must wear a white handkerchief in his hat."
While the others read, Jack turned to Gabby Pete and said
authoritatively:
"Pete, you heard me say something just now about my father being held
for ransom. I believe you are my friend." Gabby Pete nodded
violently. "Well, forget what you heard. If anybody asks you, remember
that father has gone East on business."
"Sure, boy," said Pete. "I'm a tombstone. Well, me an' Angel Face
here," and he slapped his horse affectionately, whereat Angel Face
reared and pranced, giving the lie to her name, "we may as well git
started fur camp so's to feed you when you arriv."
Jack laid a restraining hand on Pete's knee. "Wait just a minute,
Pete. Do you know where the Calomares ranch is located?"
Pete nodded. "Aw, sure," he said, "that must be Don Fernandez y
Calomares, down in Ol' Mexico. That's a good hundred mile acrost the
border. It's in a valley in them mountains," he added, pointing to the
darkening southern horizon.
"And who is this Don?"
"Waal," drawled Gabby Pete, plaintively, "I stick to hum so much o'
the time I never git to talk to nobody nor hear the noos. But seems to
me I did hear onct about him. Yes, sir, somebody sez as how Don
Fernandez lives in a palace in that wilderness jest like a king of
old, with armed ree-strainers or whatever you calls 'em----"
"Retainers, Pete," said Jack, suppressing a smile.
"Yes, that's the word. An' this feller what tol' me sez as how he's
very proud and haughty-like an' has a beyootiful daughter,
an'----an'----"
Pete dropped his voice, and paused, eyeing Remedios, the Mexican in
the nearby flivver.
"Think he kin hear me," he whispered.
"Guess not," said Jack. "Why?" He, too, looked toward Remedios. The
latter had his back to them and was blowing indolent wreaths of smoke
from a brown paper cigarette.
"I don't trust that feller, that's all," whispered Gabby Pete
hoarsely. "He's down acrost the border too much o' the time. Anyhow,
as I was sayin', this yere Don Fernandez is agin the Obregon gov'ment
an' backin' a new revolution. That's what the feller tol' me, anyhow.
Waal, Mr. Jack, Angel Face an' me will go an' git dinner." And with a
slap on his horse's flank that caused her to spin about and dash away,
Gabby Pete was off.
Jack turned to his companions.
"First thing is to get to camp, I guess," he said. "Then after dinner
we can talk over what has to be done. What do you say?"
"I say let's eat," said Frank, plaintively.
"He's got the biggest appetite for his size I ever saw," said Bob,
affectionately, slapping his smaller chum on the back.
"I second Jack's motion," said Mr. Temple, seizing his bags and
leading the way to the car. The others also picked up their bags and
followed. "We know now that your father is safe, Jack," said Mr.
Temple. "So the news in that note wasn't so bad, after all."
"That's right," agreed Jack. "Well, climb in fellows, and let's get
started."
It was a tight squeeze. Jack sat in front with Remedios and one of the
bags. Mr. Temple and Bob, both big individuals, filled the rear with
the balance of the bags. Frank, who had gone to the front of the car
to crank it, found no room within for him when he returned. He leaped
to the running board.
"I'm light," he said. "I'll sit on the door. Let's go."
Remedios opened the throttle and with a rattle and roar, the
ramshackle old car darted ahead on the road taken by Gabby Pete, and
soon had left the town behind and was out on the desert.
Only the upper edge of the sun stood now above the western mountains,
and the purple shadows were long across the plain. In the east the sky
was darkest blue and the stars already twinkled brightly. A rosy light
lingered at the zenith, while above the western mountains the sky was
ruddy bright with the afterglow as the sun slipped farther and farther
down and finally vanished altogether. Then night began to descend with
a swiftness unknown in the East. The rattle of the car made
conversation difficult and the newcomers lapsed into silence,
becoming absorbed in watching the majesty of the scene.
Presently the engine began to miss fire, then emitted a final groan as
Remedios closed the throttle, cutting off the flow of gas, and
stopped. Remedios threw the clutch into neutral, applied the brake,
and climbed out. Raising the cover of the hood, he peered within. Then
he shook his head dolorously.
"It is of no use, Senor," he said to Frank, who had jumped from the
running board and stood beside him. "She is finish. The spark plug,
she is on the--what you call it?--the bum." And with an air of
finality, he closed the cover. At the same moment he turned to peer
anxiously down the road ahead, whence came now on the still twilight
the thudding hoofbeats of a galloping horse, rapidly growing louder.
His mechanical instincts awake, however, Frank paid no attention to
the approaching horseman. He had again lifted the cover, as Remedios
turned away, and, lighted match in one hand, was twisting at a spark
plug with the other.
"Shucks," he cried, withdrawing his head, "that Number One plug wasn't
screwed in tightly enough, that's all. I'll bet she'll go now, just
the way I tightened her by hand. And if I only had a pair of
pliers----"
At that moment, the galloping horseman dashed up alongside, pulling
his horse back on his haunches. It was Gabby Pete, his hat gone, his
face red with excitement. Far over he leaned to call to the astonished
occupants of the car.
"Bandits," he cried hoarsely. "Greasers. Comin' in an auto. I come
back to warn you." And facing about he pointed to where a cloud of
dust behind him on the desert road indicated a rapidly oncoming car.
"Grab that crank," cried Frank to Remedios, and he sprang for the
driving wheel. "I'll make this old bus go."
"Not so fast, Senor," said Remedios suavely, and seizing Frank's arm
he whirled the young fellow about.
Frank looked into the muzzle of a revolver which Remedios held leveled
at him.