DON FERDINAND EXPLAINS.
The trap door was on a slide, not hinged. This permitted of its being
pushed back in grooves that proved to be well-oiled and noiseless. Frank
who stood on a stool so high that he was forced to bow his head in order
not to strike it against the low roof was about to straighten up and
look out, when Captain Cornell thrust him aside. The next moment the
doughty flyer, placing his hands on the edge of the opening, pulled
himself up to the room. Frank was quick to follow.
“Hey, Captain, that was mean,” he declared.
“Didn’t want you poking into trouble,” explained the other. “Feel that I
owe it to Mr. Hampton. But our trouble’s for nothing,” he added, looking
about, “unless—”
He ceased abruptly and leaped forward, Frank at his heels. Both had seen
that shapeless bundle, looking like an old roll of carpet, begin to
quiver. The roof was flat, a low parapet rimming it. In one corner lay
the bundle, and the westering sun in their eyes had so dazzled them at
first that they had not seen it. But now—
They pulled up together beside the strange object, and Captain Cornell
stirred it with a foot. “Come out,” he commanded in Spanish, “and have a
care. I am armed.”
The faded carpet covering what they now could see was a man
out-stretched his full length, quivered. But no man emerged.
“I’ll cover him, Frank,” said Captain Cornell. “Do you take off the
carpet.”
Frank seized an end of the carpet and tugged. But the carpet did not
come away. Instead, the object beneath began to roll toward him. A man
was rolled up inside. Once, twice, he turned over. Then the end of the
carpet was reached, and the man lay exposed.
“By the ring-tailed caterpillar,” cried Frank, using his wildest
expletive. “It’s Don Ferdinand.” And he flung himself on his knees, and
began fumbling at the knotted rope wound ’round and ’round the form of
his old acquaintance, who was trussed from head to heel. “Lend a hand,
Captain. Or, wait, I’ll cut those ropes.” And he fished for his pocket
knife, and getting it out, opened and began to slash the bonds. A moment
later he desisted in order to pull away the huge bandanna knotted about
the aristocratic Don Ferdinand’s jaw and efficiently stopping speech.
The moment the gag was withdrawn, the old Don began to sputter.
“Hey, Captain,” Frank cried excitedly, “run to the edge of the roof and
call out to the fellows.”
And as Captain Cornell hastened away to comply, Frank finished the task
of releasing the Don and then assisted him to his feet. Don Ferdinand
was so stiff from his bonds as to be unable to stand without assistance.
But his tongue wasn’t stiff. It rattled on at a great rate. Frank, whose
Spanish was somewhat rusty from disuse, had difficulty in understanding,
so voluble was the Don’s speech. He knew, however, that his old friend
was pouring vials of wrath on the head of the missing Ramirez; and he
was tempted to smile, but by an effort managed to refrain.
In the mean time, he assisted Don Ferdinand to the open trap door,
impressing on him that Ramirez had fled and that friends waited below.
They were joined by Captain Cornell, who helped Frank lower the older
man to the stool below. Thereupon the two followed, pulling the trap
shut behind them. Captain Cornell urged haste.
“Let’s get out of this and get back to our own land,” he said. “We’ve
rescued Don Ferdinand, thanks to you Frank. It would be a shame to get
into trouble with the authorities now.”
Frank agreed, and with a hand under Don Ferdinand’s elbow hurried the
frothing old aristocrat down the stairs. Not once did the latter cease
his wrathy outpourings until they emerged on the street, where Mr.
Hampton was first to greet them. But Captain Cornell interrupted the
conversation between these two old friends before it could get well
launched. He was impatient to be gone.
“We’ve had a lot of luck,” he said, “but it may not last. I don’t know
what is the standing of this fellow Ramirez with the Mexican
authorities. He may own the town, for all I know. Anyway, it would be a
shame for us American officers to get into trouble over here now. Let’s
go.”
They went. Somehow or other, the party which had come in the big car of
the flyers and the Laredo taxicab, augmented now by the addition of Bob
and Captain Cornell and Don Ferdinand, managed to swarm into the
constricted space. It was a wild race for the Bridge, and so jounced
about was everybody that ordered conversation was impossible.
“Pull up at the Hamilton, everybody,” Mr. Hampton had said, on starting.
“Then we can have a council of war and hear Don Ferdinand’s story.”
So, although the car containing the flyers, drew rapidly ahead, those in
the taxi felt assured that they would all be reunited, provided they
managed to cross the International Bridge without running foul of the
Mexican authorities. This they did, just ahead of the procession of cars
coming from the bull fight. And in the lobby of the Hamilton, Don
Ferdinand and his escorts found the men of the Border Patrol awaiting
them.
“Whew,” said Captain Murray, as they trooped into Mr. Hampton’s sitting
room, to the amazement of Mr. Temple who had spent the afternoon in a
quiet siesta which their coming rudely routed; “that was a risky piece
of business. We had no business invading Mexico, and if we had been
caught at it by the authorities of Nueva Laredo we would have had to do
some tall explaining. Glad it’s over—and without exposure.”
“I’ll not forget, old man,” said Captain Cornell.
“Rot.” Murray playfully pulled the other’s hat down over his eyes.
“You’d do as much for any of us.”
Around the big room they all found seats, the seven young aviators of
the Border Patrol, the Hamptons, the Temples and Frank, many sitting on
the floor. Don Ferdinand was given the seat of honor, a huge winged arm
chair. Perhaps, he would prefer to rest after his trying experiences
rather than to talk, suggested Mr. Hampton; in which case they would
permit him to retire, and he could relate his story later. But the old
aristocrat waved that suggestion aside impatiently. He was filled with
anger and eager to talk. Perhaps, too, added Mr. Hampton, he was hungry
and would like to eat. But to that, too, the old Don said, no. Mr.
Hampton did, however, ring for bottled ginger ale which when it arrived
everybody eagerly seized.
Then with bottles in hand, they listened while Don Ferdinand explained
how he had come to be in the predicament from which Frank and Captain
Cornell had rescued him.
To begin with, Ramirez, as they already knew, had lured away a score of
men from Don Ferdinand’s mine in the mountains, many miles to the west.
The old Don feared Ramirez was preparing to gather a rebel army and
launch a new rebellion. At one time, nothing would have pleased Don
Ferdinand better. But he believed now that the Obregon government was
stabilizing his country, and he wanted its peace to continue
undisturbed.
In that isolated district, there was only a shadow of Federal authority,
in the form of a commander and a score of troops in a small town
garrison at the village of San Dimas. Don Ferdinand decided that it
would be useless to appeal to such help, for in the meantime Ramirez
would move eastward unhampered and continually gathering more troops.
Accordingly, with his own followers at his back, he set out in pursuit.
Well mounted though they were, however, Don Ferdinand’s command failed
to catch up with Ramirez. Through sparsely settled country, where the
only human inhabitants were a few lonely sheepherders, led the chase.
Now and then Don Ferdinand obtained word of Ramirez’s passing. Once,
about fifty miles west of Nueva Laredo, they came upon a camp which
Ramirez had made along the Rio Grande that was only a day old. The
American town of Carana, a Texan village inhabited by Mexicans, was not
far distant across the river. Then they pressed on toward Nueva Laredo,
hopeful of meeting Ramirez before he could gain sufficient strength to
attack the town.
But almost at once Don Ferdinand discovered that Ramirez no longer had
with him the main body of his followers. Trail signs up to the last camp
had indicated that more than a score of men rode with Ramirez. Now the
signs showed that not more than four horsemen had proceeded from the
last camp. They turned back at once in order to make a closer inspection
of the camping place, and soon discovered that the score left behind had
crossed the river in the direction of Carana, some three miles away.
This puzzled the old Don sadly. A dozen conjectures as to the reason for
such a move whirled through his brain. The one most likely to be true,
he believed, was that Ramirez had sent his main body along the deserted
Texan shore toward Nueva Laredo while he and a few lieutenants
approached it from the Mexican side. Many Mexicans live in Texas; and,
therefore, the followers of Ramirez would be able to enter Laredo
without detection and stay in the American town until they received word
from their commander to enter Mexico. In the mean time, Ramirez could be
preparing his plans in Nueva Laredo for a surprise attack that would put
the town in his power. So Don Ferdinand pressed eagerly toward Nueva
Laredo. He felt that this move would make the capture of Ramirez all the
easier, and that with the brains of the revolution laid by the heels,
there would be no revolution.
Five miles from Nueva Laredo, Don Ferdinand left his followers at the
hacienda of a friend. Only one man did he take with him, whose duty it
would be to act as messenger and summon the troop in case of need. He
entered Nueva Laredo the next day and spent hours in making guarded
inquiries.
No information. At least, none of value. Don Ferdinand had acquaintances
in Nueva Laredo. His land-owning friend had others to whom he bore
references. All knew of Ramirez and his former reputation as a smuggler
and bad character. None, however, had heard of any revolutionary
movement with him behind it, and only one had heard of his being in
Nueva Laredo. He had been seen on the street, somebody had dropped
mention of it to this informant.
Don Ferdinand pressed his inquiries further. Believing Ramirez’s command
had crossed the Rio Grande fifty miles west in order to march into
Laredo and there await word from their commander, he went to Laredo. A
very good friend, a wealthy merchant, housed him. But inquiries made
amid the lower strata of Laredo society by the merchant’s employees
brought forth no information regarding an influx of strangers who might
be Ramirez’s men. Then, driving across the International Bridge,
Saturday night, Don Ferdinand in his friend’s car caught sight of
Ramirez, only to lose the chase, as already narrated, through his
accidental smashing into the taxi of his young friends.
The next day was the morning of the bull fight. Remembering his promise
to call at the Hamilton Hotel Don Ferdinand was preparing for the visit
when word was brought him that Ramirez had been located in a house on
Calle Libertad. The informant was one of his merchant-friend’s
employees—a laborer from the warehouse. He undertook to guide Don
Ferdinand to a dive in Nueva Laredo, where they were to meet one of
Ramirez’s men who had agreed to sell his information, if Don Ferdinand
would buy. The merchant was asleep. Don Ferdinand did not wake him, but
took the car which had been placed at his disposal and drove with his
informant to the meeting place.
“It was a trick,” he explained. “Barely had I entered the dive than I
was seized from behind, gagged and then taken in my friend’s car to the
house in Calle Libertad.”
“And Ramirez?” questioned Mr. Hampton.
“At the house he met me. Our conversation I shall not repeat. It would
only bore you. But, Senor Hampton, my good friend, I must tell you I was
mistaken. This devil Ramirez, he think he have me in his power and can
tell me all. Ah, he does not realize I have good friends who will come
to my rescue. What do you think, Senor? He says he does not make the
revolution; there is no money in that. Instead, he organized a—what
shall I call it?—system of men for smuggling Orientals out of Mexico
into the Estados Unidos.”
“An underground railway?” suggested Captain Cornell.
Don Ferdinand nodded.
“I was surprise’—me. He think, this devil Ramirez, it is I, Don
Ferdinand, who want a share in this traffic which is so profitable. He
think it is because of that desire for money that I pursue him. So now
he capture me.”
Don Ferdinand’s listeners betrayed the keenest interest. Captain Cornell
was especially eager for details. His suspicions regarding Ramirez and
the latter’s projects were fulfilled. He wanted to know all. Questions
poured upon Don Ferdinand in a flood, completely overwhelming him. At
length he waved his hands impatiently.
“Senors, have a patience. There is little more to tell. This devil,
Ramirez, he reveal that he take my man from the mine because he need men
for his—what you call?—oh, yes, his underground railway. When he send
them across Rio Grande, it is that they go to Carana and prepare. From
Carana, these Orientals shall be sent to San Antonio and then
distributed through Estados Unidos.”
“But didn’t he have other men?” asked Mr. Hampton. “Why should he go
west to your mine, and take your men? Why should he take my cook Ramon?”
“About thees Ramon, I do not know. But Ramirez, he take my men because
he know I shall pursue. Me, he have a grudge against this long time.”