MISSOURI'S MANOEUVRE
The other three horses proved more tractable than Caliente, and after
some skirmishing they managed to get their new ships rigged up with the
saddles and other tackle. Now as soon as they got their cargo aboard,
they would be prepared to set sail and to cruise over the plains. (I
must use this nautical language out of respect for Captain Broom and his
crew.)
As I have said before, sailors are poor horsemen and when it came to
making fast the double cinches, they were quite at sea, where sailors
should be, perhaps. Old Pete came near getting his head kicked off by
pulling the back cinch too tight, but he and Captain Broom profited by
their youthful experience on a New England farm, so the horses were
finally all saddled and bridled and ready for a flight--except Caliente.
He was to be left marooned in the lonely canyon.
It was surprising to Jim and his comrades how quietly Juarez's roan took
matters, but there is no relying on a broncho, because he always does
the unexpected, and the Captain was so pleased with his behavior that
he decided to ride the animal himself.
"Now, that's what I call a well broken hoss," he said. "I ain't so sure
of the black so I will let you cruise on him, Jack, being the most
active. I don't know what I shall do for Pete, unless I can find him a
rocking-horse."
"What are you going to do with the boys?" inquired the mate. "Have 'em
walk?"
"They can ride their pack mule," said the Captain grimly.
So Jo, Juarez and Jim were securely fastened on the patient mule, while
Tom rode behind the mate upon his own horse, but no longer as master.
Then the queer procession started up the trail through the dense fog.
The Captain was in the lead, followed by the mate with Tom, then the
mule with Pete and the Mexican dwarf guarding the animal and its cargo,
while the active Jack Cales was the rear guard. It was exactly twelve
o'clock when they weighed anchor and sailed from the harbor or cove in
the mountain canyon.
The three boys said little to each other. They did not waste their
breath with threats of what they would do to their captors later on, but
accepted the situation with true western stoicism. But you may be sure
that their minds were active even if their tongues said little.
They were so securely tied that there was no chance for them to make a
move as their arms were corded tight to their bodies and their feet were
tied under the belly of the mule. Unless they had been experienced
riders they would have had a difficult time of it. But it was terribly
humiliating, especially under the insolence of the malignant Mexican.
But he did not dare do them any actual injury, because the Skipper had
given him a warning which he did not dare to disregard. Finally, old
Pete put an end to his slurring remarks to the prisoners, so he had to
content himself with ugly looks and frequent expectoration wherewith to
express his disgust.
Before they reached the foot of the trail, Jack Cales changed with Pete,
though the latter demurred at first, at boarding the strange black craft
with four legs, but finally consented under the urging of Jack and the
warm recommendation of the boys, who had taken somewhat of a fancy to
the old sailor, since he had shut up the Mexican in their behalf.
"He won't hurt you, Pop," said Jim, "he is a good horse. Any lady could
ride him."
"I ain't no lady," replied the old fellow suspiciously, as he slowly
and stiffly mounted, while Jack held his head, that is to say, the
horse's head, not Pete's.
"What did he do that for?" inquired Pete, anxiously, preparing to
dismount.
"Stay on, you old Barnacle," roared the Captain from the head of the
procession, for though he could not see anything in the rear, still he
seemed able to keep an instinctive tab on his old comrade Pete.
"That horse is all right, Pop," said Jo, "and I ought to know. I've
ridden him a good many hundred miles. Don't tickle him with your heels,
that's all."
"I guess that's what I've done," admitted Pete.
Then the procession resumed its march with Pete as rear guard, riding
with due caution and circumspection as though his craft was loaded with
dynamite and liable to explode at any time. Jack Cales tried to quiz the
prisoners on the mule in a friendly way, but they would not relax in
their attitude of grim, if not sullen, defiance towards their captors.
Captain Broom need not think that his prisoners would ever accept any
conditions from him. Doubtless, he thought that these boys might be
trained to help him in his business for he appreciated their courage
and fighting ability, but he did not fully understand what stuff the
frontier boys were made of.
The procession of pirates and their prisoners had now reached the foot
of the range and were in close proximity to the ranch, but everything
favored the plans of the Skipper of the Sea Eagle. The fog became denser
when they reached the level plain so that it was scarcely possible for
the rider to see the ears of his horse.
Every sound was deadened, so that they could have gone directly past the
ranch houses and not even the dogs would have heard them. But the
Captain was determined to take no chances, and as soon as the party were
free of the canyon, he bore off toward the south, making quite a
circuit.
Anybody but an experienced navigator would have been lost in the fog
upon the plain, but you could not lose Captain Broom either on the high
seas or the low plains. They passed between two wooded hills, which the
reader will have to take on faith as he cannot see them. Then across a
gully, on the other side of which they came to a barb wire fence.
This did not stop them long, as the Captain cut it and they rode
through. From the footing which was about all that could be observed,
they appeared to be in a pasture land with a gentle slope towards the
sea. The fog did not diminish in thickness and the boys determined to
escape. Here was their chance, if they could be said to have one.
"Here's where we make a break," said Jim to Juarez. "Guide the mule
alongside of Tom. Then we will run for it." Jim did not say this in so
many words, but he had ways and means of indicating to Juarez, who was
tied directly back of him, by a sign and poke language which Juarez was
quick to seize.
It seemed at every turn that his experience with the Indians was a help
to him. The mule was a protégé of Juarez and with a word he could guide
it in any direction that he wished it to go. The fog was one thing that
favored them. The Mexican could scarcely be seen and Jack Cales stalked
along looking like a giant through the mist.
He had grown somewhat lax through the long march. This was the time, if
ever. Jim gave Juarez the signal that all was ready. A quick word to the
mule and he trotted out from his place in the column, knocking over the
Mexican and before Cales was fairly awake to the situation, he was
obscured by the fog.
In about two seconds he had hove alongside of the horse that the mate
was on. Tom was foot-loose, and no sooner did he see Missouri's long
ears through the fog, than he was ready for action.
"Jump, Tom," urged Jim. It took only about two seconds for Tom to
execute the manoeuvre.
"Halt!" roared the Captain, and he tried to turn the roan to capture the
runaways, but right here, the broncho strain in the animal showed
itself.
He began to buck and never in all his experience had the redoubtable
Captain Broom ever been on so choppy a sea. It was hard to distinguish
fog from whiskers. At the second hunch upward, the Captain shot into
space. The boys did not tarry to watch for his descent. A word from
Juarez to the mule, and Missouri turned directly south just as Jack
Cales came rushing up.
"Touch him with your foot, Tom," said Juarez, meaning the mule, not
Cales. Tom's heel reached the right spot and up flew the mule's hind
feet with the rapidity of a rapid fire-gun.
One foot struck Cales on the shoulder with a sufficient impact to send
him down and out. The mate had been involved in the cyclone of which
Captain Broom was the centre. Tom's horse, considered the gentlest of
the four, had become infected with the roan's example and he started in
to do a little bucking on his own account. Never since the mate had
rounded Cape Horn, had he known so much action in so short a time.
The only one left was Old Pete and he came on right gallantly, but by
dodging and turning they got away in the fog. After putting what they
considered a safe distance between themselves and their former captors,
Juarez persuaded Missouri to halt, and Tom went to work and with great
difficulty first untied, then lifted, them to the ground for the boys
were as stiff as boards from being tied hard and fast for so long a
time.
"My, but it certainly hurts," said Jo, stamping around in an endeavor to
get the blood to circulating again. "It's just like it used to be back
home in the winter when we would go skating and get our hands numb."
"What is the matter, Juarez?" asked Jim in alarm.
"Oh, I'm all right, I guess," he said in a voice that sounded faint to
the boys and far away to himself. Then, without warning, he fell over on
the ground and stiffened out.
"It's from the blow that the greaser gave him," said Tom. "It would have
killed him if it had struck him fair."
"Wait until I get my hands on him," cried Jim, significantly.
What should they do now? It was not an easy question to decide.