A FRIEND IN NEED.
"This is certainly a funny excursion," laughed Billie, after the boys
had ridden along in silence for some minutes. "It's like looking for a
needle in a haystack."
"How so?" queried Donald.
"Well, isn't it? This big country is the haystack, and the bunch of gun
runners is the needle. I see mighty little chance of finding them."
"Oh, I don't know," replied Donald. "We never started out to find
anything yet that we didn't locate it--even old Bray," he added as an
afterthought.
"That's right," chimed in Adrian. "There is nothing like having your
luck with you."
"Huh," grunted Billie, "I'm not sure but the greatest luck we could have
would be not to find anything."
Adrian looked at the speaker in surprise.
"It's the first time I ever knew you to show the white feather," he
said.
"Who's showing the white feather?" demanded Billie, with much spirit.
"I'm just as anxious as anyone to put a stop to lawlessness; but you
wouldn't call any man a coward, would you, because he wouldn't
deliberately stick his head in a hornet's nest?" And he gave his horse a
vicious dig with his spurs.
"Oh, don't get mad about it," said Adrian. "I didn't mean to hurt your
feelings."
"Well, then, don't be accusing me of showing the white feather. There's
a whole lot of difference, in my mind, between being a coward and using
a little common sense."
"He has the best of you there, Ad.," remarked Donald; "when it comes to
doing things, Billie will be on the job."
Donald's words were like oil on the troubled waters, and after a few
minutes Billie continued in a voice entirely free from any irritation:
"The thing I can't understand is this: If somebody has so much
information as to what is to be done, why don't they have some little
knowledge of those who propose to do it? The whole thing looks fishy to
me."
"I believe you're right," assented Adrian, after turning the matter over
in his mind for several minutes. "There is something kind of mysterious
about it."
"I don't see it," declared Donald, "but, even if there is, all we have
to do is to keep our eyes and ears open. We have the law on our side."
"Looks like mighty little law to me," replied Billie, who, for some
reason or other insisted upon looking on the dark side. "But, to change
the subject, what do you call that?" and he pointed away to the south,
where a cloud of dust was to be seen.
"Looks as though it might be a herd of cattle." said Donald, after a
moment's inspection. "Although," he added, after further observation,
"it would be a mighty small one."
"They certainly make a lot of dust," was Adrian's comment, followed in a
moment with: "Look! Look! It's a race! It's a race!"
A race it certainly was, in which something less than half a dozen
horsemen were engaged, and the boys drew rein to watch it.
At the first glance it did not appear to be very exciting, as one of the
riders was so far in advance that there seemed very little chance for
any of the others. But, as the boys watched the flying horsemen, it
slowly dawned upon Donald that there was something wrong.
"By George!" he suddenly exclaimed, "I don't believe it's a race at all.
It looks to me as though there were three trying to catch one, and I
don't think it's for any good purpose."
"I believe you're right, Don; and, look," exclaimed Adrian, "they're
headed this way!"
That the boys were right was fully evidenced as the flying horsemen
approached. The pursuers seemed to be men, while the fugitive was a lad
of about the same age as our travelers.
All at once the boy espied the Broncho Rider Boys, and, digging his
spurs into his horse, turned abruptly and rode directly toward them.
"_Socorre mi! Socorre mi!_" he called, as he came within hailing
distance.
"What does he say?" asked Billie.
"He's crying for help," replied Donald. "What had we better do?"
"Help him, of course," replied Billie.
"And get ourselves into a lot of trouble for our pains," declared
Donald.
"Who cares! Three to one is more than I can stand," and Billie yanked
his Marlin from its sheath at his saddle girth.
Seeing that Billie intended to interfere, even if he had to go it alone,
Don and Adrian followed his example, and, spurring their horses forward,
interposed between the boy and his pursuers.
"What's all the trouble?" asked Donald in Spanish, as soon as the
pursuing horsemen had come to a halt.
"He is running away from home," replied one who seemed to be the leader,
"and his uncle sent us to bring him back."
"It isn't so," declared the lad, who had stopped his flight and had come
up behind the boys. "Do not believe him, _señores_!"
Adrian turned at the sound of the lad's voice. "Which are we to
believe?" he asked.
"Believe me," exclaimed the lad imploringly. "If you let them take me, I
do not know what they will do with me."
"Why are they chasing you?" asked Don.
"I don't know, unless it is because they do not like my father."
"Who is your father?"
"General Sanchez, of President Madero's staff."
"Who are these?" and Don pointed to the waiting horsemen.
"I don't know who that man is," replied the lad, pointing to the leader,
"but the others are peons on my uncle's _hacienda_."
"Is this true?" asked Don, turning to the pursuers, while Billie and
Adrian tenderly fondled their rifles.
"Partly," replied the leader. "But you heard him say he did not know who
I am. Well, I am one of his uncle's closest friends. I learned this
morning that Pedro," and he pointed at the boy, "was getting into bad
company, and so came out to look for him. I found him in bad company and
told him he must come home with me. He refused and rode away. I then
started after him. If I were not his uncle's friend, do you think I
would have his uncle's peons with me?"
"It hardly seems so," replied Donald; "but, if you are such a good
friend of his uncle, it's a wonder he does not know you. How about that,
Pedro," and he again turned to the boy.
"It's all a lie," was the emphatic reply. "I was out watching the men at
work at the foot of the mountains this morning, when this man rode up.
He told me to come with him. Never having seen him, I refused, whereupon
he threatened to flog me. I jumped on my horse and rode away. A few
minutes later he came after me, making all sorts of threats. Then he
summoned the peons and chased me. They seem to do everything he tells
them, but I do not know why."
"It sure is a queer mix-up," said Donald to his companions, in English,
"and I don't know what to do."
"I'll tell you what," exclaimed Billie, after the matter had been fully
explained to him, "let's all ride back to his uncle's, wherever that is,
and see what he says."
"Why, sure," said Donald. "Billie, you'll make a judge some day. We'll
go at once."
When the proposed plan was explained to the Mexicans, both sides to the
controversy quickly acquiesced, and, turning their horses about, the
combined parties started toward the mountains, Pedro leading the way.
The road ran along the bank of the Concho for a couple of miles, and
then turned abruptly toward the foothills. It was a beautiful valley,
and the Broncho Rider Boys were much interested in the scenery. They
passed several small groups of adobe houses, which Pedro explained were
on his uncle's estate, which seemed very large.
"There is the house," Pedro at length explained, pointing to a fine
appearing place on the top of a small hill. "It's only a couple of miles
farther."
So interested had the boys become in what Pedro was telling them that
they had paid very little attention to the rest of the company, until,
as they rounded a turn in the now rocky road, Adrian discovered that the
man who had made all the trouble had disappeared. Adrian quickly turned
and rode back a few rods to where he could get an unobstructed view of
the road behind, and there was Mr. Mexican riding away as fast as his
horse could carry him.
"What shall we do?" queried Adrian, as soon as he had called the others
back.
"Nothing, I should say," was Donald's advice. "It looks like the
question of who was right and who wrong had settled itself. I say good
riddance. What do you say, Pedro?"
"I say let him go. I don't want him; but I should like to know who he
is." Then to the peons: "Do you know who he is?"
The peons looked stupidly at each other, but made no reply.
"Why don't you answer?" asked Donald sharply. "Who is that man?"
"_Quien sabe!_" was the exasperating answer, as the men shrugged their
shoulders in a manner which reminded Billie so much of a vaudeville act
that he burst into a hearty laugh.
"_Quien sabe!_" he repeated. "Well, I know enough Spanish to understand
that they don't know. But why don't they know?"
"It's too deep for me," replied Adrian. "The whole affair is too
mysterious for anyone but a Sherlock Holmes to ferret out; but there is
certainly no need of our going any farther in this direction, and I move
that we start back."
"You won't have any trouble in getting home now, will you?" he asked,
turning to Pedro.
"Oh, no; and are you going back to the Rio Brava?"
"To the what?" asked Donald.
"The Rio Brava."
"He means the Rio Grande," explained Adrian. "The Mexicans call it the
Rio Brava, and that is the way it is on their maps. I saw one of their
geographies once."
"Then we're going back to the Rio Brava," laughed Billie, "and I hope we
get there before it begins to rain."
Whereupon, bidding good-by to Pedro, who was most profound in his
thanks, they started on their return ride.
They had not been riding more than half an hour before the clouds, which
had been getting blacker and blacker, became so angry-looking that they
determined to seek shelter, and turned their horses' heads toward one of
the little cluster of houses they had passed earlier in the day.