THE ATTACK
So the three boys rolled into their blankets with the saddles for
pillows and dropped immediately to sleep as they were very tired from
the long, hard ride. They lay at different points around the fire, which
was allowed to die down as the fog seemed like a warm gray blanket over
the whole landscape.
Jo sat on a log by the slowly dying fire, with his rifle on his knees
looking into the darkness and not far from him lay the Mexican a mere
dark lump on the ground, apparently asleep, but keeping a wary eye on
all around. Imperceptibly he crept nearer to where Jo was sitting, but
he did not have the weapon he would have preferred in his hand, the
stiletto, which was as natural to him as the fangs to a rattlesnake.
But it did not suit the long-headed Captain Broom to have the boys
killed. He wanted their life as well as their money, but in a different
sense than the adage has it. From what he had heard of them, they were
boys of unusual mettle and varied acquirements. If caught young, he
could train them to good purpose. If they proved worthless, he would
hold them for ransom.
So Captain Broom had told Manuello briefly and to the point that there
was to be no rib-sticking and the Mexican would have thought as soon of
disobeying the commands of the Evil One as of going contrary to the
instructions of the Captain. So as he crept towards Jo, he held not a
poniard in his clenched hand, but a heavy weapon like a black-jack, made
of leather with a weight at the end.
Jo, however, spoiled his first attempt, for when the greaser had got
within striking distance, Jo got up and went down to the pool to get a
drink. If it had not been so dark, when they arrived, the boys would
have seen tracks around the pool that would have aroused their
suspicions. But everything seemed to work against them this time.
Jo stooped down at the brink and scarcely put his thirsty lips to the
water when some instinct of warning made him look quickly around and he
saw a small dark object directly back of him.
"Pardon, Senor, for startling you;" it was the voice of the dwarf, "but
I, too, was very thirsty. It is in the air."
"You needn't have been so quiet about it," said Jo, crossly. This little
rat always had a way of baffling and irritating him, because he did not
have Jim's force, which could beat down the dwarf when occasion demanded
it, or the stoicism of Juarez, which blocked the hunchback.
"I came softly, Senor," said the Mexican, imperturbably, "because I did
not wish to disturb the slumbers of the Senors who are resting."
"Get down and drink, then," said Jo, who, though he realized that the
Mexican was up to some hidden deviltry, did not know how to meet him.
Jim and Juarez would have knocked him out of the camp if they had
discovered him trailing them, with a warning that he would be shot if he
put in an appearance again.
While the Mexican was pretending to drink, Jo satisfied his thirst at a
point of the pool where he would be safe from a sudden attack by the
hunchback. For Jo was not a fool by any means. Then he got to his feet
and with the Mexican ahead of him, he saw to that, he made his way back
to the camp.
Scarcely had Jo seated himself upon the rock again than he heard a stick
snap upon the mountain side above the horses, so he got to his feet to
investigate.
"You can stay where you are, Manuello," said Jo. "I don't need your
company this time." The Mexican laughed softly to himself.
"I hope the Senor Americano will not get lonesome," he said.
Jo made a careful search in the direction of the sound but found no sign
of a human being lurking among the trees. Though he felt exceedingly
nervous, he was unable to account therefor or give a reason.
Very quietly he went the rounds, so as not to awake the boys, who,
however, were sleeping heavily. He found the horses all right standing
with drooping heads as though dozing, Jo's black with his neck over
Tom's bay, as these horses were great chums. But Caliente and Juarez's
roan were not sociable and kept strictly to themselves.
Then Jo returned to the rock where he had been sitting. He stirred the
dying fire so that it sent up a feeble spurt of flame by the aid of
which he looked at his watch. It lacked a few minutes of ten. The
Mexican had taken up his old place on the ground watching for his
chance. He was anxious that the attack should take place during Jo's
watch for he had his doubts in regard to Juarez or the redoubtable Jim
proving easy victims.
All this time, Captain Bill Broom and his crew had been keeping watch
upon their intended victims from the top of the cliff above the pool.
They could see every move from the time the Frontier Boys had arrived
until they lay down near the smouldering fire.
"They are a husky lot," was the Captain's first comment. "That tall
fellar, I guess, is a horse tamer and Injun fighter."
Some time later when the altercation occurred about the coffee and
Juarez expressed his opinion about the Mexican, the Captain could
scarcely keep from haw-hawing right out.
"Them fellars have got some dis'pline," commented the saturnine mate.
"You're right they hev," said the Captain.
"That lad don't know how to handle my pet rattlesnake," was the
Captain's comment when the Mexican trailed Jo to the drinking pool.
After Jo had returned from making his rounds and had resumed his guard
again, the Captain decided that the time had come for action.
"Now, lads," he ordered, "pull off your shoes and the first man that
makes a sound will get his neck cracked. Knock 'em out, if necessary,
but no killing this time."
Then they started, the Captain in the lead, and old Pete bringing up the
rear. They had had a good many hours in that vicinity and had made a
path from their hiding place to the soft dust trail. So they moved in
their sock feet without a sound. There was an oppressive stillness in
that dark canyon under the heavy blanket of fog.
Already it had began to lower and as the sailors advanced with
snail-like slowness the heavy white fog settled down, filling the canyon
with its white opaqueness. You could not see five feet in front, and the
moisture beaded itself upon the eyebrows and mustaches of the men.
This dense fog was a great help to the attacking party. They had now
crawled half way down the main trail, when Pete came near putting all
the fat in the fire, for his eyesight was not overly keen, and the fog
made it more difficult for him. He did not see a round stone poised on
the edge of the trail until it rolled down towards the pool.
Although every sound was deadened by the fog, still the watchful Jo
heard it distinctly. He got quickly to his feet and, with soft
moccasined tread he went in the direction of the sound, his pistol in
his hand.
No sooner had the stone fallen than the Captain motioned the mate to
halt. This signal was repeated to Jack Cales, who was so hidden by the
fog that he could not see the Captain. He stopped suddenly so that old
Pete tumbled over him, making some noise.
The Captain almost had a fit of apoplexy because he did not dare express
himself at this interesting juncture. Jo had heard the noise on the
trail and his suspicions centered in that direction. Noiselessly he went
up with slight footprints in the damp dust of the trail. The Captain
waited his coming, crouched behind a bend in the trail.
Then Jo saw a huge figure rising suddenly out of the fog in front of him
and, before he could fire, a great hand gripped for his throat, but if
he could not shoot in defense, at least he could give his comrades
warning. He fired one shot, and then he was overpowered.
Jim and Juarez heard it instantly. Then Manuello got in some of his
work. Before Juarez could rise, he struck him a vicious blow upon the
head that stunned him, rendering him unconscious. Cold with fury, Jim
picked up the rat of a Mexican before he could land a blow upon him,
whirled him over his head and dashed him upon the ground.
Then he sprang through the fog in the direction of the shot. He heard Jo
groan as the ruffians overpowered him and he leaped up the trail blind
with a fighting rage. The Captain had just got up from the struggle
with Jo, who lay as good as dead in the trail.
Then Jim hurled himself upon him. Powerful though he was, the Captain
could not withstand the sinewy lurch of that sudden attack and together
boy and man crashed from the trail over rocks and through brush until
with a fearful impact they struck the trunk of a pine tree.
The mate sprang swiftly down to the rescue of his fallen master. He was
a strong, sinewy man and knew how to act in an emergency.