A FRIENDLY VOICE.
In the work that followed, Jack Greenland showed that he was no novice
in woodcraft, but it would take more space than I can give to it to
describe minutely the details of what I shall only attempt to outline.
It would not do for them to leave the thick fringe of bushes
overhanging the road, and yet, in order to accomplish his purpose, it
was necessary for them to shorten the space between them and the rebel
riders under "El Capitan," as the mountain insurgent was called. To do
this more safely, Jack retreated about a yard, and then crept forward
in the same direction of the road. In spite of his extreme caution,
Ronie heard a stick snap under his knee, when his heart came into his
mouth. Fortunately, one of the horses stamped its foot at this moment,
and thus the fainter sound was drowned by the heavier. Then the harsh
voice of the insurgent was heard to exclaim:
"Fire on the head of the laggard! I cannot wait here any longer.
Forward, men! on to the mansion, which shall be the cage for our bird."
Without further delay the body of half a dozen riders struck their
impatient steeds smartly with their spurs, and would have swiftly
disappeared from the scene, but for an accident to the foremost. His
animal, thus suddenly aroused, reared into the air and then plunged
forward, but, either stepping into a hole or stumbling, it staggered
ahead, coming nearly upon its knees. Its rider was flung headlong into
the bushes within a hand's reach of our amateur scouts!
This mishap plunged the rest of the riders into confusion, nearly
unseating Rhoades himself, but who rallied with a horrible imprecation
upon the head of his unfortunate follower. With rare presence of mind
the woman on the gray horse wheeled her spirited animal quickly around
to make a bold dash for freedom. There were horsemen behind her, but
that was her only way of escape, if she could hope to get away at all.
In a moment the entire scene had become one of wildest excitement, and
above the clatter of hoofs and the cries of his men, rang the voice of
the leader, as he swung his own horse around, calling upon his
panic-stricken followers:
"Don't let her escape! Shoot her if must be, but stop her!"
The mountain outlaw was about to carry out his own order, when he
received a terrific blow from Jack Greenland, which tumbled him from
his seat to the ground. Jack and Ronie had been quick to perceive that
in this exciting tableau lay their chance of action.
"Mount the free horse and ride down the road for your life!" said Jack.
"A bold dash will carry us through."
Then he sprang forward to capture the horse ridden by the insurgent
chief, knowing that, could he be successful in this, it would throw the
squad into confusion. Without a leader they were not likely to make a
very effective pursuit. I have described the result of his swift and
daring onset. And, as Rhoades, stunned by the blow, sank helpless to
the earth, the fearless American seized the bridle rein of the
frightened horse before it could clear itself from the hand of its
former master. Almost simultaneously with this action Jack would have
been in the saddle, but for the fact that the right foot of the
insurgent had caught in the stirrup. This caused a brief delay, but,
wrenching the offending limb aside, the captor vaulted into the seat
just as two or three shots whistled through the air at random from the
discomfited insurgents, who were at a loss to account for just what was
being enacted in their midst. One of these bullets cut away a lock of
his silvered hair, but, unminding his narrow escape, he turned the
horse sharply about, crying to the woman, who had succeeded in heading
her steed down the road:
"Ride for your life. It is your only hope."
She had already reached the outside circle of the little group, and her
horse, a spirited one, cleared the last of the dismayed riders, to bear
her down the way at a terrific pace, her long, black hair streaming in
the wind as she sped on. Once a white face was turned backward for a
moment, and then she disappeared from sight.
Meanwhile Ronie was having an experience equally as exciting and even
more dangerous to his life and liberty. He had succeeded in catching
upon the bridle of the horse that had thrown its rider, and he gained
the saddle an instant later, while the terrified animal reared and
plunged furiously. But the young engineer had secured a firm hold on
the reins, and was likely to obtain quick control over the creature,
when he found stout hands laid on the bridle with a power which threw
the struggling brute back upon its haunches.
The attack of the insurgents, three in number, was so sudden and
powerful that Ronie's escape seemed impossible.
"Shoot the dog!" cried one of the insurgents.
"Don't let him get away!" exclaimed the chief, who had rallied by this
time sufficient to realize something of the situation.
Ronie knew he could expect no assistance from Jack, who was having all
he could attend to, and he resolved to make a desperate attempt to get
away. Accordingly, he whipped out the stout knife which had been given
him by Manuel Marlin, and as the shots of his enemies sped past his
head, he cut the reins upon which the insurgents were clinging, when
the men, suddenly losing their hold, staggered forward, leaving the
animal freed from their clutches.
Finding itself thus relieved of the weight dragging it down, the horse
flung up its head, gave vent to a wild snort, and bounded madly over
their writhing forms, to rush like a whirlwind down the road, scarcely
a head behind Jack, mounted on the chief's fleet-footed steed. Though
nearly unseated by this abrupt onset, Ronie held fast to his position,
while he was borne on at a rate of speed which fairly took away his
breath. Even Jack, going at his terrific pace, was passed, and then
the woman on the stout gray was outdistanced. Without check or
guidance to its headlong flight, Ronie soon found that his horse was
running away!
The cries and the rifle shots of his enemies were soon lost in the
distance, but the young engineer had barely recovered his equilibrium,
so to speak, when he became conscious of the approach of a body of
horsemen from ahead. Naturally expecting only enemies, he began to
wonder how he was to come out of this new danger. The sounds of the
approaching horses told that this party were coming at a gait almost as
swift as that by which he was carried along. Thus he was not given
sufficient time in which to prepare for the meeting, if any preparation
could be made by him in his plight, before he found himself carried
into the very midst of a squad of a dozen horsemen, sweeping toward him
at a breakneck pace. Wild shouts rang in his ears, but if efforts were
made to stop him he was not aware of it. In some manner, never quite
plain to him, he was carried through the party of riders, brushing
against them on the right and left, but clearing them in an incredible
space of time, to be still carried on with unabated speed.
So far Ronie had not gathered his scattered faculties enough to act,
but now, remembering that the bridle was still left on the head of the
horse he bestrode, he leaned forward and grasped the side straps close
down to the bit. Perhaps the animal had begun to tire of its wild race.
At any rate, it quickly yielded to the strong hands wrenching at its
mouth, and began to slacken its speed.
All this really took place in less time than it has taken to describe
it, even in outline, and the excitement and confusion of the surprised
riders in his rear were yet ringing in his ears, when Ronie, for the
second time, became aware of the approach of horsemen. But before he
could obtain control of his own horse, or anticipate who might now be
in his pathway, a stentorian voice thundered in English:
"Halt! Who comes here?"