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[Illustration: Pulling himself together and grasping his Marlin
firmly, Adrian stepped cautiously toward the broken door.]
THE BRONCHO RIDER BOYS WITH THE TEXAS RANGERS
or
The Capture of the Smugglers On the Rio Grande
by
FRANK FOWLER
Author of
"The Broncho Rider Boys At Keystone Ranch."
"The Broncho Rider Boys In Arizona."
"The Broncho Rider Boys Along The Border."
"The Broncho Rider Boys On The Wyoming Trail."
A. L. Burt Company
New York.
Copyright, 1915
By A. L. Burt Company
THE BRONCHO RIDER BOYS WITH THE TEXAS RANGERS
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I.--A MULE HUNT IN THE CHAPARRAL.
CHAPTER II.--A WILD CHASE AND ITS RESULT.
CHAPTER III.--A DANGEROUS MISSION.
CHAPTER IV.--A FRIEND IN NEED.
CHAPTER V.--A NIGHT IN A MEXICAN KITCHEN.
CHAPTER VI.--ADRIAN MAKES A CAPTURE.
CHAPTER VII.--IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY.
CHAPTER VIII.--IN THE SMUGGLER'S CAVE.
CHAPTER IX.--GUADALUPE IN DANGER.
CHAPTER X.--SANTIAGO'S STRATEGY.
CHAPTER XI.--A COUNCIL OF WAR.
CHAPTER XII.--THE BATTLE AT THE CAVE.
CHAPTER XIII.--A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE.
CHAPTER XIV.--PANCHO VILLA.
CHAPTER XV.--A SHOT IN THE DARK.
CHAPTER XVI.--A VALUABLE DISCOVERY.
CHAPTER XVII.--A MEETING OF REVOLUTIONISTS.
CHAPTER XVIII.--SPRINGING THE TRAP.
CHAPTER XIX.--WITH THE REGULAR ARMY.
CHAPTER XX.--SCOUTING FOR UNCLE SAM.
CHAPTER XXI.--JOINING THE REVOLUTIONISTS.
CHAPTER XXII.--BESIEGED BY REVOLUTIONISTS.
CHAPTER XXIII.--BILLIE SOLVES A MYSTERY.
CHAPTER XXIV.--LOST IN THE CHAPARRAL.
CHAPTER XXV.--THE FIGHT IN MIDSTREAM.
CHAPTER XXVI.--BILLIE OVERHEARS A SECRET.
CHAPTER XXVII.--HUSTLING FOR EVIDENCE.
CHAPTER XXVIII.--A QUESTION OF NEUTRALITY.
CHAPTER XXIX.--IN THE DARKNESS BEFORE DAWN.
CHAPTER XXX.--AU REVOIR, BUT NOT GOOD-BY.
CHAPTER I.
A MULE HUNT IN THE CHAPARRAL.
"Crack!" went Broncho Billie's revolver and the silver dollar which had
been tossed into the air as a target went spinning into the yellow
waters of the Rio Grande as a result of Billie's unerring aim.
"Not a bad shot, Ad," remarked Billie with a laugh as he ejected the
shell from the cylinder and shoved a fresh cartridge into the empty
chamber of the revolver. "I don't miss 'em very often now, and this time
the river is a dollar in."
"Yes," replied Adrian, a bit crestfallen, "and I'm a dollar out."
"Didn't think I'd hit it, eh?" and Billie's round face broadened till it
looked like a full moon.
"Well, I didn't know but you might, but I hadn't stopped to think what
would happen to the dollar if you did. The river didn't look so near."
Billie chuckled to himself good-naturedly as he returned his six-shooter
to its holster, while Adrian continued:
"I'll make a better guess at distances before I try it again. I can't
afford to be losing dollars like that."
"Oh, that's all right, Ad!" and Billie shoved his hand down into his
pocket. "Here's one to take its place."
Adrian shook his head and made no move to take the proffered coin.
"Go on, take it!" insisted Billie. "I don't want to make you lose your
last dollar."
"That's all right about my last dollar," replied Adrian. "I guess I know
where to get another, and the lesson is worth a peso."
"Well, if you go broke because of it, don't be afraid to tell me," was
Billie's joking reply; "but what can be keeping Donald, I wonder. It's
high time we were getting back over the river," and Billie cast his eye
toward the mountains some miles in the distance to see how close to
their tops the sun was getting.
"He'll surely be here in a few minutes," said Adrian. "He knows how long
it will take us to get to town as well as we do."
And while the boys are awaiting the arrival of their companion, it might
be well to explain to any reader who has not had the pleasure of reading
the preceding volumes of the Broncho Rider Boys series something about
the trio of young Americans whose names have been mentioned.
Adrian Sherwood, who had so recklessly risked his silver dollar as a
target for his companion to shoot at, was the owner of a ranch in
Wyoming, which he had but recently inherited and come into possession of
through a series of most exciting adventures as told in a preceding
volume of this series, entitled "The Broncho Rider Boys on the Wyoming
Trail." He was a youth of much wisdom and judgment for one of his years
and a close chum of Billie, who had been christened William Stonewall
Jackson Winkle.
Because of the exciting adventures through which Adrian, Billie and
Donald had passed and because they had practically lived in the saddle
for the past year and a half, they had become known to the cowboys and
rough riders of three states as "The Broncho Rider Boys." Born in the
south, but having spent most of his boyhood in New York State, Billie
had come west nearly two years previous to find health and to rid
himself of the superfluous weight which some good-natured doctor had
said was the cause of his trouble. Months in the saddle had made very
little difference in his weight and if there were a more healthy chap in
the country than he, such a one would be hard to find.
When Billie first came west, he was a veritable tenderfoot. He was
always creating fun for those with whom he was thrown and was invariably
in some sort of trouble. The number of times he had been thrown from the
back of his broncho could hardly be enumerated, and more in fun than
because he was a daring rider, he had been rechristened Broncho Billie
by his cowboy friends.
But Billie had developed rapidly. Of the three there was not one who
could ride or shoot better than he. His only weak spot was in throwing
the lariat. He never seemed to get just the proper hang and his attempts
to use the rope almost invariably resulted in disaster to himself or his
friends. As is usually the case with fat people, Billie fairly bubbled
over with good humor, being a fine example of Tony Lumpkin's famous
advice to "laugh and grow fat."
Donald Mackay, Billie's cousin, whom he had come west to visit, was the
son of the owner of a big ranch, known as Keystone Ranch. He was one of
those steady, reliable boys whom we have all met and who can always be
depended upon in any emergency to do the right thing, although at times
he may be slower than some others in the manner in which he works. Taken
all in all they were a well-balanced trio, as their actions under many
trying conditions and in many hazardous adventures had justly proved.
They had thwarted an unscrupulous syndicate from robbing Donald's father
of valuable property. They had protected an inoffensive tribe of Indians
against the designs of a band of sharpers, and they had straightened out
affairs at Adrian's ranch in a manner which would have been a credit to
much older heads.
After their adventures in Wyoming, as told in a preceding volume, they
had started to return to Arizona by a two months' ride through Colorado
and New Mexico; but, when they reached Albuquerque, they had received a
letter from Billie's father, saying that he was going on a vacation trip
to El Paso, Texas, and asking if it were possible for Billie to meet him
there.
"Of course I can," exclaimed Billie aloud, as he read the letter.
"Of course you can what?" queried Donald.
"Meet father in El Paso," was the reply.
"What, and leave us to go home all alone?" said Adrian.
"There's two of you, isn't there?" retorted Billie, forgetting his
grammar entirely.
"Of course there are two of us; but that's hardly a company, while, as
everybody knows, three make a crowd," and Adrian laughed almost sadly.
"Who'd take care of Jupiter?"
Now Jupiter was the broncho which Billie's uncle had given him when he
first came West, and a terrible time Billie had had in breaking him. He
hadn't thought about him.
"You could lead him, couldn't you?" asked Billie.
"We're driving two pack mules now. How would you expect us to take care
of Jupiter?"
Billie shook his head slowly. "I don't know," he said.
"I'll tell you what," suddenly exclaimed Donald, "we'll all go to El
Paso. We'll ride there. It isn't so many days out of our way, and we'll
see something of the country. We might even get a look at President
Madero, of Mexico."
Donald's suggestion met with immediate approval by the others, and so,
instead of going southwest from Albuquerque, they headed south. Because
of the lay of the land, they had traveled farther south than was really
necessary, but had figured it out that it would be better riding in the
valley of the Rio Grande than to climb over the range of mountains that
forms the watershed of the Pecos River. Striking the Rio Grande near
Langtry, they had slowly ridden up stream toward El Paso, first on one
side of the river and then on the other, until this afternoon found them
approaching the mouth of the Concho river, which empties into the Rio
Grande from the Mexican side.
Two hours previous they had halted in the chaparral for a bite to eat
and a short _siesta_. While they were lounging about, Donald had
announced his intention of going to a little hamlet, the adobe houses of
which could be seen a couple of miles away, to see if he could not buy a
_riata_, as a rope for leading horses is called.
"Why not wait until we reach Presidio?" queried Adrian. "We should reach
there by dark."
"We may not, and we need it to tether the pack mules. The one on Bray is
worn out, and first thing we know he'll wander away and we'll waste a
whole day looking for him."
"Well, hurry up, then," said Billie. "We don't want to be waiting around
here all the afternoon."
Without more words Donald had mounted Wireless, for so his mount was
named, and ridden away in the direction of the houses, while Billie and
Adrian had strolled up the bank of the river, killing time. It was
during this stroll that Billie had offered to show his skill with a
six-shooter by hitting a silver dollar thrown into the air.
They had hardly been out of sight of the halting place during their
stroll, but, upon their return, instead of finding Donald, they found
old Bray, one of the pack mules, missing, just as Donald had predicted.
"He cannot have gone far," declared Adrian. "He hasn't had time."
"That's certain," was Billie's reassuring comment, and, feeling sure
that a few minutes' search of the chaparral would reveal the missing
animal, they started out hastily, on foot, not deeming it necessary even
to mount their steeds.
For the next ten minutes they tramped through the chaparral, calling to
each other as they went, but no sign of the mule could be found. Then
they returned to the camp and mounted their horses, but, although this
enabled them to see over the tops of the mesquite bushes that spread out
for miles up and down the river, they could see nothing of the missing
animal.
"There comes Don," Billie at last sung out, as he caught sight of the
returning horseman. "Maybe he can give us some advice."
But Donald had no advice to give, except to scatter and search.
"I hate to say 'I told you so,'" laughed Donald, "because it was really
my fault that I didn't get a new _riata_ before. I reckon now we might
as well decide to stop here all right, for I can see we have our
afternoon's work cut out."
Half an hour's riding having revealed no sign of Bray, the boys again
met at the camp.
"Haven't you seen anything at all?" called out Adrian, as the boys came
within hailing distance of each other.
"Yes," replied Billie, "I saw a _hacienda_ about three miles up the
river. I knew Don spoke a little Mexican, so I came back to tell him,
and ask if you didn't think it would be a good thing to apply to the
owner for help. Maybe some of the peons have run across Bray and driven
him home."
"Good idea," said Adrian. "You fellows go up to the _hacienda_ and I'll
stay here and look after the other mule and the camp. I'm glad Bray
didn't have his pack on, or we'd stand a chance of going hungry
tonight."
"Don't mention such a thing," laughed Billie. "The very thought of it
fills me with despair."