“THAT DEVIL RAMIREZ.”
With laughing apology for an ever-present appetite, Jack declared he
must have food as well as the cooling limeade set out for him on the
table in the shaded patio. So Ramon of the grizzled bushy hair and the
drooping mustache and brown-paper cigarette was summoned from the
kitchen, and with remarkable celerity he had salads and cold meat for
all three on the table.
While he ate, Jack, out of politeness, questioned Captain Cornell
regarding the accident which had forced him down, learning it was due to
a leak in his gas tank which Tom Bodine already had soldered.
“I would have been on my way, thanks to your father filling my tank,”
explained the army flyer, “but I am merely on my way back to Laredo,
with no particular reason for getting there in a hurry, and so I decided
to stay and give myself the pleasure of meeting you.”
He paused, regarding Jack curiously. Certainly this unassuming,
quiet-mannered young fellow, scarcely out of his ’teens, did not
resemble the taker of hair breadth chances whom he had pictured mentally
as a result of listening to Mr. Hampton’s descriptions of some of the
escapades enjoyed by Jack and his two pals, Bob Temple and Frank
Merrick, in South America, Africa, the Far North and at home. Neither
did he look like a scientist, yet Mr. Hampton had assured Captain
Cornell that his son was out here performing abstruse research
experiments in radio for the benefit of the great radio trust.
Jack’s blue eyes twinkled, and looking at his father he shook his head
as if in humorous disgust.
“Been boring visitors again, Dad, with your reminiscenses,” he said. “So
that’s your idea of hospitality, hey?”
And turning to Captain Cornell, he added:
“You know how it is with fond parents, Captain. Don’t mind him. And
don’t hold what he says against me.”
“All right, I won’t,” laughed the other. “But, if I may be pardoned for
seeming personal, how is it you happen to be here without your pals?
Your father spoke of you three as being inseparable.”
“Well, you see,” explained Jack, “I was a year ahead of the other
fellows at Yale. I took my degree in engineering at Sheffield in the
Spring. The others are plugging away on their Senior year. They’ll be
through in a matter of six weeks or so, and then they’ll be out to spend
the Summer with me.”
“I didn’t get a chance to explain all your history, Jack,” interpolated
Mr. Hampton with a laugh.
“I see.” Captain Cornell nodded. “And what do you all intend to do then?
Get into more adventures? Things are pretty quiet along the border
nowadays.”
Jack looked up from his salad, his face grown grave.
“Not so quiet as you might think, Captain,” he said. “That’s what I
intended to tell you about.”
His father and the army flyer sat forward alertly, with a sudden
scraping of chair legs on the flagstone paving of the patio.
“What do you mean, Jack?” asked Mr. Hampton.
Jack pushed back his plate and slumped down comfortably in his chair,
his crossed ankles resting on the curbing of the fountain.
“Something I learned at Don Ferdinand’s today,” he said.
Don Ferdinand was an irascible yet lovable old Spanish aristocrat living
in the Sonoran mountains of old Mexico below the border. Several years
before Jack and his father had made the old Don’s acquaintance under
strange circumstances. Don Ferdinand was immensely wealthy and lived in
feudal state in a palace in the wilderness, surrounded by many
retainers. At that time he had been in opposition to the Obregon
government. Seeking to embroil Mexico and the United States and thus
further his plans for unseating Obregon as President, he had made a raid
across the border and carried Mr. Hampton away captive. He then had sent
word to Mr. Temple, his prisoner’s partner and the father of Jack’s big
pal, Bob Temple, to the effect that Mr. Hampton would be held for
ransom. Don Ferdinand had figured that Mr. Temple would appeal to the
American government and that thus trouble between the Obregon government
and the United States would be engendered. But Jack Hampton and his pals
undertook to rescue the older man without public appeal, and penetrating
the Sonoran wilderness they managed to accomplish their object. Since
then Don Ferdinand and Mr. Hampton had become fast friends. As for Jack
and the Senorita Rafaela, they had corresponded with each other, and now
that Jack was back in the South-west, he had spent more and more time
below the border.
After his remark, Jack sat silent an appreciable space of time. Finally,
his father becoming impatient broke out with:
“Well, well, Jack, go on. You say something happened down at Don
Ferdinand’s today, and you get us all excited. What was it?”
“I don’t know that you could really say something happened,” said Jack,
choosing his words carefully. “But Don Ferdinand got pretty warm under
the collar. Anyway, I’ll start at the beginning—it wasn’t much, and yet
it might mean a lot—and I’ll give it to you as I got it.”
Old Ramon came slithering, across the flagstones in the moccasins which
he always wore because of tender feet, and Jack cast a glance at him and
then ceased speaking until the Mexican had deposited the coffee cups and
departed with the luncheon plates.
“Don Ferdinand told me not to speak of this to anybody whom we couldn’t
trust thoroughly,” he said, by way of explanation, and with a nod
towards the departing figure of Ramon he added: “The old man is a good
_hombre_ so far as we knew. But Don Ferdinand was insistent that I
shouldn’t let out a word before any Mexicans.
“It was mighty warm down there, with that hot wind blowing, and I hadn’t
slept well. Too hot for comfort. Pitched and tossed all night. Flew down
yesterday afternoon,” he threw out for Captain Cornell’s understanding.
“So the old don, Rafaela and I were sitting in the patio this morning,
trying to keep cool. He was asleep, I expect, because, he hadn’t said a
word for a long time. So was the old duenna in the background somewhere.
Rafaela and I were talking in low voices, so as not to disturb the
others.
“A man came into the patio, a rough-looking, villainous fellow. I did
not remember ever seeing him about the place, but then there is a
veritable army of retainers always hanging about, a sort of feudal lot
of dependents; so that wasn’t strange. Anyway, Rafaela knew him, for,
when he made a low bow and stood there with his high-crowned sombrero in
hand, she spoke to him sharply, asking what he wanted. He replied that
he wanted to speak to Don Ferdinand, and Rafaela waked her father.
“Don Ferdinand took a good look at the man, then he jumped up out of his
chair.
“‘You, Pedro, what are you doing here?’ he demanded. ‘So far from the
mine? Has anything gone wrong?’
“Pedro came closer, said something in a low voice. Then Don Ferdinand
cast a quick glance toward Rafaela and me.
“‘Ah, Senor Jack,’ he said, ‘a thousand pardons. Permit me— There is a
little matter of business to attend to.’ And with a bow to me he made
off toward his office, Pedro at his heels.
“Well,” said Jack, leaning back, “I didn’t think much about the
incident. These fellows are always so mysterious anyhow, about the
merest trifles. I didn’t even ask Rafaela who the fellow was. She
herself volunteered the information, saying he was foreman of a silver
mine far back in the mountains which Don Ferdinand owns. For a long
time, the old don had refrained from working the mine. He had sealed it
up during the troubled years following the Madero revolution, although
when Diaz had been President it had been a big producer. Now he had
resumed operations again.
“‘Some little trouble at the mine brings Pedro,’ said Rafaela. ‘Oh, you
men with your business. But look, Jack,’ she added, in a low voice,
‘Donna Ana sleeps.’
“I looked around. The old duenna was snoozing so hard, it would have
taken an earthquake to wake her.
“‘The heat’s got her,’ I said, for it certainly was hot, even there in
the shaded patio.
“I guess Rafaela thought me pretty dense, by the way she looked at me.
“‘Is that all you can think about?’ she asked. ‘But, you think about the
heat—well, wouldn’t it be fine to go flying? So nice and cool?’
“Then I tumbled. ‘Come on,’ I said, ‘let’s go.’
“We tiptoed out of the patio like a couple of conspirators. The old
duenna never stirred. Don Ferdinand wasn’t in sight. Neither was anybody
else at the front of the house. And out behind, in the quarters, I
expect everybody was taking a siesta. Anyway, we couldn’t hear a sound.
“So off we trotted across the lawn and disappeared among the eucalyptus
trees—you know, Dad, cutting off the house from the don’s landing
field?”
Mr. Hampton nodded, a reminiscent light in his eyes. He was remembering
the scene which had become so familiar during his period of captivity
several years before.
Captain Cornell opened his eyes. “A landing field?” he demanded,
incredulously.
“Oh, yes,” explained Jack. “Several years back, when the old don was an
unreconstructed Mexican rebel, he had a couple of airplanes in his pay.
Several of his aviators even stole ours—that is Bob’s and
Frank’s—airplane. But we got it back. The airplanes are gone, as well as
most of the rebel army Don Ferdinand was feeding at that time. But the
flying field remains. It’s in pretty good shape too.
“Anyhow,” he continued, “Rafaela and I popped out on the field, and I
put her in the plane. Then I stirred up a couple of sleepy Mexicans whom
I’ve trained to help me. We got her going, and after I’d warmed her up,
we took off for a spin.
“And, say, Dad,” he added, in a burst of enthusiasm, “that girl’s one
good sport. She certainly loves to fly. One of these days I’m just going
to have to teach her. Trouble is, they never let her go up. This was
only her second or third flight. And, my, how tickled she was over
stealing away from her duenna.”
Mr. Hampton tried to look reproving but failed lamentably. Nevertheless,
he warned: “Just the same, you mustn’t do that again, Jack, without her
father’s consent. What if something happened, some accident?”
“Oh, shucks,” said Jack, “I didn’t fly high with her, and I didn’t take
off until the old bus was tuned up and running like a watch. Anyhow,” he
added, hastening to change the subject, “it was a good thing I went up
because it was then I got your radio message, saying Captain Cornell was
here and asking me to come home. The don’s station was out of order
again. Some Mexican kid is always monkeying with something or other and
putting the whole works out of commission. When it’s working, Rafaela
says, they get all the big stations. And”—he laughed—“she says it’s a
regular thing for all the Mexicans to turn out since I installed that
loud speaker for them, and dance on the flying field at night to the
band music they pull out of the air.
“Well, anyhow, back we flew, and I landed her safely and left the motor
idling while we walked up to the house. I intended to see her home, say
good-bye to the don, and come back.
“The old duenna was still asleep. But just as we stepped back in the
patio Don Ferdinand appeared in a state of pretty high excitement. I
thought for a minute he was going to comb me for taking Rafaela up in
the plane without permission. But, no; he wasn’t even aware that we had
been flying.
“‘What’s the matter, father?’ asked Rafaela, anxiously. ‘Has anything
happened? Did Pedro bring bad news?’
“The old don walked up and down a few steps, clasping and unclasping his
hands behind his back. ‘Just when the mine was beginning to pay again,’
he mourned.
“‘Tell me what is the matter, father,’ demanded Rafaela.
“He halted and faced us. ‘Matter? Matter?’ said he. ‘Matter enough. That
devil Ramirez has lured all my men away. They laugh when Pedro begs them
to stay and say they will follow Ramirez who will make them rich. Pedro
cannot get anybody to work.’
“‘But you can send other men,’ said Rafaela.
“‘Bah,’ said Don Ferdinand. ‘You are just a girl. What do you know about
such matters? If Ramirez takes some men, will he not take others?’
“Rafaela shrugged and spread out her hands. ‘But you are rich, father.
You need not worry about the mine.’
“‘Foolish child,’ said Don Ferdinand, and he appealed to me. ‘Women do
not know,’ said he. ‘Why does Ramirez lure my men away, if not to make
revolution? And revolution will upset everything again. Bah, we have had
enough of revolutions.’”
Mr. Hampton interrupted with an abrupt but hearty laugh.
“Isn’t that just like him? He wants no revolutions unless he makes them
himself. When I think of several years ago—” And he laughed again.
Jack smiled, too. “That’s what I thought, Dad,” he said. And then,
becoming serious, he added: “Anyhow, there is another revolution
brewing, Captain Cornell, it is liable to make trouble for you fellows
of the Border Patrol.”
The army flyer nodded. His face wore a puzzled frown.
“Ramirez?” he said. “Ramirez? Never heard of him. And I know most of the
trouble-makers by name, besides. Your friend Don Ferdinand referred to
him as ‘that devil Ramirez,’ hey? Did he explain further?”
“No,” said Jack. “He just cautioned me not to speak of this to any of
our Mexicans, and said he would have more news for me later. Then I came
away. I don’t know,” he added thoughtfully; “I don’t know but what he
contemplates lighting out after Ramirez himself. He’s quite an intrepid
old fellow, you know.”
The conversation thereupon became more general, Captain Cornell
questioning Jack regarding his radio experiments. They walked out to the
radio shack. And there Jack launched into an enthusiastic description of
his work. He was seeking, he said, to work out some of the fundamental
problems demanding solution as a result of the tremendous increase in
both broadcasting stations and receivers.
“There are six or seven such problems,” he said. “First, we must have a
radio receiver which will provide super-selectivity—a receiver which
will enable the Operator to select any station he wants to hear, whether
or not local stations are operating. Such selectivity must go to the
theoretical limits of the science. Here”—pointing to a litter on a work
bench which was only a meaningless jumble to the flyer—“is a pretty
close approach, or it soon will be,” he corrected himself, “to what I
want. It will be a super-sensitive receiver, giving volume from distant
stations as well as selectivity.”
Here and there he went about the shack, taking up or lying down pieces
of apparatus, and keeping up a running fire of comment which made the
flyer’s head swim.
He was working, he said, on the problem of achieving a “non-radiating”
receiver—one, which, no matter how handled, wouldn’t interfere with a
neighbor’s enjoyment. He was trying to improve the complicated
Super-Heterodyne in sensitiveness and selectivity, so that anybody could
have access to its wonders, regardless of whether he possessed any
engineering skill.
And at that point, Captain Cornell groaning humorously clapped his hand
to his head and staggered toward the door.
“Great Scott, Mr. Hampton,” he appealed, “call him off, will you? I
didn’t know there _was_ so much to radio. I’m willing to believe your
son’s the greatest radio engineer in the world, but tell him to have a
heart. Understanding about airplanes is as far as my feeble intelligence
will carry me. I can’t cram radio into it, too.”
The Hamptons both laughed, and followed him outside. There, with a look
at the sky, Captain Cornell gave a sudden startled exclamation.
“I’ll have to be getting along,” he said. “Just enough daylight going to
be left for me to get to Laredo. Besides, I don’t like that look in the
South. One of these desert siroccos playing away off there somewhere.
And who knows when it may take a notion to come wandering up here? Will
you folks help me get away?”