RAMIREZ!
Estramadura was enjoying his triumph to the full. Bowing this way and
that, a slender, graceful figure, looking in his red costume like a
flash of fire against the sun-drenched yellow sands of the arena and the
colorful stands beyond, he showed no disposition to retire so long as
the ovation continued. And the hysterically delighted Mexicans
apparently did not intend to subside so long as they had breath to
cheer.
Minute after minute rolled by while the uproar continued and, if
anything, grew in volume. All about and below the little group of
Americans on the topmost tier of seats on the shady side of the arena
were men and women who apparently had become temporarily insane. At
least, so their actions would seem to indicate. They threw their arms
about each other in true Latin abandon. They sent straw sombreros
sailing out. Some fell in the arena, others on the heads of those below,
and when the latter accident occurred it merely tended to heighten the
general excitement. Silver pieces of various denominations spouted up
and out from the crowded stands to go whirling and sparkling in the
sunshine and fall to the floor of the arena where Estramadura’s
attendants scurried hither and thither, retrieving this largess of his
worshippers.
Doubtless, somewhere in the background waited Juan Salento, champion
matador of Mexico. But he was not in evidence. And doubtless he was
saying to himself that he would have to produce a sterling performance,
indeed, in order to bear comparison with the daring and skill of this
invader from Spain. But not a cry was as yet raised for him, not a voice
as yet pleaded for a resumption of the program. The populace still
thrilled to Estramadura’s deeds.
“Won’t they ever stop?” demanded Mr. Hampton of the army flyer. So
tremendous was the tumult that, even though there was none behind them,
and they were above the uproar, he had to bend close and raise his voice
in order to make himself heard.
Captain Cornell started to make some laughing response, but while he was
in the midst of it he felt a sharp tug of his arm. They were all
standing up in order to see above the heads of those below them who
likewise had risen to their feet and, in many cases had climbed upon the
seats.
Turning he saw the tug had been given by Frank, who was staring past him
to attract Mr. Hampton’s attention.
“Hey, what’s the matter? The fight got you excited, too?” he demanded,
noting the flush of excitement on Frank’s cheeks and the glitter in his
eyes.
“Jack wants you two to look. Down there, two rows below us and to the
left.”
Frank was shouting, although bending close to the pair on his right.
“He says that’s your cook—what’s-his-name—Ramon, Mr. Hampton. And he has
an idea, Captain, that the man with him is Ramirez.”
“Where? I don’t see,” cried Captain Cornell, staring.
But Mr. Hampton’s eye had picked out Ramon, and in a word or two he
directed the flyer so that the latter likewise saw.
Ramon was a true Mexican. Like his neighbors he had cast restraint aside
under the fever engendered by the recent exhibition in the arena below,
and he was standing up, cheering himself hoarse.
Having once located the old cook, the flyer’s glance passed on to the
man on Ramon’s left. His gaze narrowed. Then he gave a sharp
exclamation.
“D’you mean that’s Ramirez?” demanded Mr. Hampton, who had been watching
his companion.
“I don’t know,” confessed the flyer. “I never saw Ramirez. But I’d say
that that man certainly answers the description of the so-called ‘Master
Mind’ which Jack Hannaford, the old Ranger, gave me. Blue marks on his
cheek as if from powder burns and a nose beaked like a parrot’s. If I
could only see him walk now, and see whether he has a limp of the right
leg!”
All five stared intently at the unconscious pair who continued to whoop
it up along with the rest of their compatriots, as if they had no
thought in the world except to do honor to the Spanish matador. But
there is something compelling in the concentrated gaze upon the back of
one’s head of even one individual, something which frequently compels
the object of such attentions to face the quarter whence the stare
emanates. How much more compelling, then, if five persons fix their
minds and thoughts upon one poor human target! It was so with Ramon.
Suddenly he faced about a puzzled frown on his features. His eyes roamed
this way and that, as if searching. They passed unrecognizingly over the
faces of the flyer and of Bob and Frank. But then they lighted up with
recognition as they fell first upon Jack and then upon his father. With
recognition and with something more. What was it? Fear?
At any rate, Ramon suddenly turned back, gripped his companion by an arm
and began to address him. His words, of course, could not be heard by
the watchers above him, but that he was talking about them there could
be no manner of doubt.
“By golly,” exclaimed Jack, suddenly, leaning forward to call to his
father. “He’s recognized you and me. Duck, the rest of you. Let Ramirez
see only us when he looks.”
There was such a tone of command in Jack’s voice that instinctively his
listeners obeyed. They had only to sink back into their seats to be
protected from the burning gaze of Ramirez by the figures of those
standing up in their seats in the row between them, should the renegade
turn around. And turn around he did, a moment later, thus justifying
Jack’s precaution.
Obviously unwilling to face again the gaze of the Hamptons whom he had
left in the lurch when he deserted their desert household, Ramon,
nevertheless, faced about along with Ramirez. That he did so at the
latter’s command was plain to be seen, for Ramirez gripped the older man
by an arm. Ramon indicated his former employers, then dropped his gaze.
Not so Ramirez, however, whose deep eyes stared boldly, insolently, as
if he sought to engrave the features of the Hamptons in his memory.
Jack and his father withstood the scrutiny, which lasted only a moment,
and, in fact, did a bit of staring in return. The face of the renegade
was a mask of evil. Once seen, it would not soon be forgotten, Jack for
one felt assured. And he congratulated himself on his forethought in
persuading his companions to drop out of sight before Ramirez turned
that camera-like eye upon them. Otherwise Ramirez would have been able
to recognize them all again. And Jack had a feeling that somebody was
going to be needed to keep an eye on this fellow, as soon as the crowd
in the arena broke up and they all took their departure.
That Ramirez would wait until the ending of the event he did not
question. What was his surprise, therefore, to see the latter face about
and, gripping Ramon by an arm, start to make his way through the crowded
stand toward the nearest stairway exit.
Jack and his father looked at each other. Their thought was the same.
Ramirez and Ramon should be followed. But for either of them to shadow
the precious pair would be foolish, inasmuch as they were known.
Somebody else, someone of their companions, would have to play
detective, if the others were to be kept in sight.
The cheering continued. They were as much alone in that mass of frenzied
Mexicans as if on a desert island, so far as any recognition of their
presence extended. For Jack to have questioned his father would have
been perfectly safe. Nobody would have overheard who it was not intended
should overhear. But spoken words were unnecessary. A question was asked
and answered in glances alone.
Then Mr. Hampton bent down and addressed the flyer, acquainting him in a
few brief words with the fact that Ramon and Ramirez were leaving.
“They know both Jack and me,” he said, “so it would be useless for us to
follow them. But I’m worried about my friend Don Ferdinand. These men
may know something about him. At least we ought not to let them get out
of our sight, if we——”
Captain Cornell did not wait for further words. He climbed up on the
seat and prepared to make his way along it toward the stairway. A quick
glance showed him Ramirez and Ramon attempting to thrust their way
toward the same destination, and making heavy going of it because of the
densely packed mass of humanity that intervened. Another swift appraisal
brought out the fact that he would be able to reach the stairway well
ahead of them, in all likelihood, inasmuch as all the occupants of the
topmost row of seats were standing up, thus leaving the bench free for
him to walk on, with no interference such as Ramirez and Ramon were
experiencing from another row of persons above.
“Keep out of trouble,” warned Mr. Hampton anxiously, and the flyer
laughed. “We’ll be waiting at the hotel to hear from you.”
As the Border Patrol man darted away along the bench, hastening so as to
accomplish his purpose before the occupants resumed their seats, Bob who
was the last in line of the party swung up behind him.
“The Army can’t get all the fun,” he chuckled, brushing aside the
restraining hand which Jack instinctively thrust out to halt him.
A moment later he was too far away to be dragged back, and all his
companions could do was to stare after him with mouths open in dismay.
“No, you don’t, Frank,” said Mr. Hampton suddenly, making a dive for
Frank. The latter had attempted to climb up on the seat and set off in
pursuit of his big pal.
“Come on, Mr. Hampton,” begged Frank, “be a Sport.”
The older man shook his head.
“Two will be plenty for the job,” he said. “I wish Bob hadn’t gone, and
I’d have stopped him if I could. I hope no trouble comes of it. And I
suppose Bob will be all right, because Captain Cornell can get help by
making his rank known, in case the necessity of an appeal to the Mexican
police arises. Nevertheless, I won’t be comfortable until I hear from
Bob and the army man again. And I’d feel even more uncomfortable if you
had gone, too.”
“Oh, I say,” protested Frank. “I can take care of myself as well as
Bob.”
“Yes, I know,” answered Mr. Hampton. “The truth is you probably can take
care of yourself better than Bob, that is you think a bit faster. I
didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. But, there. Cornell and Bob, as you
see, have reached the stairway and disappeared down it, while Ramirez
and Ramon are still ten or twelve feet distant and held up by the crowd.
That’s good. Our boys will be able to wait for them outside, and should
manage to follow them without arousing suspicion.”
“I was thinking of Don Ferdinand, Dad,” said Jack. “And so were you, I
could tell. I wonder now whether Ramirez is really mixed up with the
Don’s failure to keep his appointment with us today?”
“I’d say he was,” said Frank. “Remember that telegram spoke of
‘important developments’.”
Mr. Hampton nodded. “Yes, and that’s why I thought it would be wise for
Cornell to trail those two rascals. But I can’t help wishing that Bob
hadn’t gone.”
“Well, it’s too late to be mended now,” said Jack, practically. “There.
Ramirez and Ramon also have reached the stairway. There, they have
started down. It’s a good thing Bob and Captain Cornell were so situated
that they managed to get down first. It certainly will make matters
easier for them.”
Mr. Hampton nodded. “Yes, and a good thing they got away when they did,
for, see, the crowd is beginning to subside at last.”
The boys gazed below them at the stands. Many still shouted, but large
sections were desisting and beginning to sink back into their seats. As
for Estramadura, the matador, he had disappeared. The corpse of the
slain bull likewise had been removed while their attention was otherwise
engaged, without their having been aware of what was transpiring in the
arena.
“Now I expect this other matador, the Mexican, Juan Salento, will have
his chance to show his prowess,” said Mr. Hampton. “Well, I suppose we
may as well see it out. We’d have a hard time leaving now, anyhow, for
once the next bull fight begins it would be much as our lives would be
worth to try to pass in front of these fellows in making our way to the
exit.”
They resumed their seats, and Jack leaning over the parapet behind them
searched the ground far below for signs of his companions or their
quarry but without success. The exit was hidden from his view. Then he
turned back to Frank and seeing the latter’s woe-begone expression he
burst into a laugh.
“Brace up, old thing,” he said, slapping Frank on the back. “I feel just
as bad about being left behind as you. But what must be, must. We’ll
have our chance yet, never fear. I feel in my bones that something is
going on that spells action for us.”