RAMON TALKS.
The rest can be briefly told. When the reserves, so to speak, entered
Doctor Garfield’s office, they found Ramirez already captive in
Hannaford’s clutches. The Mexican had been in the act of departing, he
was, in fact, already at the front door, his hand on the knob, when the
old Texan from the rear had commanded him to surrender.
Don Ferdinand, raging, had broken away from the restraint of Mr. Hampton
and Mr. Temple, and had followed in the wake of Hannaford and young
Harincourt. He stood, trembling with passion, in front of Ramirez, as
the aviators under Captain Cornell, and ably supported by Bob and Frank,
appeared in the doorway of the office.
“My daughter?” he was demanding, shaking his fist under Ramirez’s nose.
“Where is my daughter?”
And the latter, his evil eyes gleaming from his swarthy face, was
leering down at the smaller man.
“Where you cannot find her,” he was saying, for he believed that his
shout of warning, emitted as Hannaford captured him, had been heard and
heeded by the captors of Rafaela who were in the car outside.
But the malicious triumph that shone from his eyes departed when his
attention was drawn by the loud trampling of feet in the hall and he
swung around to face newcomers in the doorway. If these were more
Americans from the front of the house, it was likely that his men had
been captured and Rafaela rescued, was the thought that followed. And
this suspicion of the downfall of his rascality was confirmed when Bob
stepped up to Don Ferdinand.
“Don’t believe him, sir,” said the big fellow. “Your daughter is safe
outside. Jack is with her.”
The last words fell on unheeding ears. Don Ferdinand went through the
crowd and out the hall like an arrow.
Much had been done, but something still remained. Ramirez and several of
his lieutenants had been captured, and Rafaela rescued. But a score of
Ramirez’s followers were still at large, and the large band of Orientals
whom Ramirez was smuggling into the United States in defiance of the
immigration laws would have to be rounded up before the Border Patrol
would consider its efforts a complete success.
“You see, it’s this way,” Captain Cornell hurriedly explained to Jack
and his comrades; “the new immigration law which is under discussion in
Congress right now proposes a practically complete ban of Orientals. Few
enough have been admitted heretofore, the majority being permitted to
enter under a so-called gentlemen’s agreement, and posing as students.
Well, some have been students, but certainly not all.
“Now,” he added, “if you are not familiar with what is going on, I can
tell you that our government is preparing to frame a law which will make
it impossible for Orientals to enter our country. There have been
frequent rumors of late to the effect that the Orientals were leaving
their crowded home lands and migrating to Mexico, where there is no ban
against them, in large numbers. Doubtless, Ramirez, who has a head on
his shoulders, even if he does use it only for rascality, and who keeps
abreast of the times, saw his opportunity in this situation. He has
planned an ‘underground railway’ for running Orientals out of Mexico and
into the United States. There used to be a traffic in the same sort of
human contraband on the Pacific Coast, until it was broken up a few
years ago. But,” he interrupted, surprised, “why these knowing looks at
each other?”
His listeners laughed. “You tell him, Jack,” said Bob.
“Well, Captain,” said Jack, “you may not believe it, but we three
happened to have a hand in breaking up that traffic. And a sweet time we
had of it, too, for a while. By accident, we stumbled on something in
San Francisco which made us dangerous to the Smuggling Ring. They
kidnapped us and took us to sea. But we managed to escape and to bring
the government forces down on their hiding place in the Santa Barbara
Channel islands. Fellows,” he added, addressing Bob and Frank, “do you
remember that inventor—Professor What’s-his-name, and his radio finder
for locating uncharted stations? That’s how we managed to find the
hiding place, Captain, through locating their radio calls between a
shore station and their boats.”
“Those were the happy days,” said Bob reminiscently, and a faraway look
came into his eyes as his thoughts turned back to the exciting events
narrated in The Radio Boys on Secret Service Duty.
Frank nodded. “Lots of fun,” he said.
Captain Cornell threw up his hands in mock dismay, as he laughed. “You
three must be regular trouble-finders,” he commented. “Do you always get
into the thick of things like this?”
“Oh, not always,” said Jack. And Bob grumbled:
“Thick of things? Huh. We aren’t in the thick of things this time. You
fellows flying to Carana are going to get the cream of the whole
affair.”
The conversation had been conducted in undertones. All four were
standing on the outskirts of the group in Doctor Garfield’s office,
which was brilliantly lighted while in one corner Captain Murray,
finding he could obtain little information from the sullen Ramirez, was
now pumping Ramon. Don Ferdinand had taken Rafaela to the home of his
merchant friend, and the boys were to call on them on the morrow. Doctor
Garfield had re-dressed Mr. Hampton’s wound, and the latter had departed
for the hotel, accompanied by Mr. Temple, for the express purpose of
trying to locate the owner of the flivver which Bob and Captain Cornell
had made off with outside of the Nueva Laredo bull ring that afternoon,
in their pursuit of Ramirez, and of reimbursing him.
The other aviators were listening to Captain Murray’s attempt to obtain
information from Ramon. Presently the latter turned away impatiently,
and, his eyes lighting on Jack, he beckoned him forward.
“Hampton, I can’t get anything out of your old cook. You try your hand.”
“Look here, Ramon,” said Jack, eyeing the old fellow keenly. “You’re
afraid of something. You know you’ll not be prosecuted. You did us too
good a turn outside for that. Now what is it? Tell me. Are you”—and he
leaned closer, whispering so that only Ramon could hear—“afraid of what
Ramirez may do if you betray any information about his plans?”
“Si, Senor,” breathed Ramon.
Jack in turn whispered to Captain Murray. The latter frowned
thoughtfully for a second or two, then his eyes brightened, and he
turned to Hannaford. The other stooped from his greater height, and the
three put their heads together. The other Americans regarded them
curiously. As for Ramirez he continued to glower while from beneath his
lowered lids darted a poisonous glance which fell on Ramon and made the
old fellow tremble.
“Come on, you,” said Hannaford, at length, turning to Ramirez; “we’ll
just put you where you won’t be no trouble to anybody but yourself.”
With a hand as big as a ham gripping the more slightly built Mexican,
Hannaford marched him outside and flung him into one of the taxicabs.
“Where to, Jack?”
“County jail. Step on ’er.”
Behind them, in the office, already Ramon was growing brighter, with
Ramirez away. And now he no longer hesitated to answer questions, for
Jack assured him that Ramirez would be sent to the Federal Penitentiary
for violation of a national law, and that years would elapse before he
would ever be free again.
“Senor Jack,” said Ramon, addressing Jack in Spanish, “you ask yourself
why Ramon abandons you at the ranch? Ah, you do not know, you do not
know that devil’s power? Once I was a bandit; that was years ago. Then I
went to the Estados Unidos and became respectable. Senor, when I go to
the village that day to buy supplies for our ranch, two lieutenants of
Ramirez encounter me. Aye, Senor, those same two—Andreas and Jose—whom I
fight and overcome in the car, myself, alone, single-handed, as you
arrive.”
He thumped his chest, and Jack with difficulty restrained a burst of
laughter. From behind him, where the others crowded close, came a
tittering which betrayed that others were not so heedful of the old
man’s feelings. But Ramon paid them no heed.
“Andreas and Jose tell me they have a fine job for me, Senor Jack, and
when I decline and inform them I already have the fine job, they compel
me to go with them. Of a certainty, I, Ramon, would have fought them
then, except that they were armed while I had not even a knife.
“We get in the train, Senor, and we ride to Laredo. And then they take
me to that house you know of, where they make me cook for thousands of
stinking Orientals. And, Senor, Ramirez, he laugh at me.”
The old man bowed his head in shame, and this time no laughter came from
the men crowding close behind Jack. The latter dropped a kindly hand on
Ramon’s bowed shoulders.
“It’s all over now, Ramon, and he shall never get you in his clutches
again,” Jack promised. “And now,” he added, at an impatient whisper from
Captain Murray, “tell us where the Orientals are, and how they are to be
brought into the United States.”
“Senor, tonight at midnight, they are to be at a point forty miles west,
on the Rio Grande. A rough trail leads there, and it is wild country. At
midnight, boats will meet them and they will be ferried across the river
from Mexico into Texas. Guides will take them to Carana, where they will
be housed until tomorrow night, when they will be sent on to San
Antonio. There are no Americans at Carana, Senor, only Mexicans; and the
whole town, which is not large, is in Ramirez’s pay or, else, fears him
and keeps silent.”
And once more Ramon ceased speaking, while his hands went patting here
and there about his person, but without success, until one of the
aviators with a smile stopped his fruitless search by thrusting a packet
of cigarettes into his hand. The old man gratefully accepted one,
lighted it, and sat back, puffing.
Captain Murray walked to an open window and looked out. Then he turned
back with a decisive set to his shoulders.
“As calm a night as one could desire,” he said to his confrere, Captain
Cornell. “Three hours to midnight. And we could reach Carana in less
than an hour. I know the village. Nobody there to telephone to, nobody
to put on guard. What say?”
“You’ve landed there, haven’t you?”
“Yes. In bright moonlight like this, there’s no chance to miss it. A
little settlement where the river takes that big bend to the north.
Several good fields nearby. And in this flood of moonlight, landing
ought to be easy.”
All were listening closely, and the atmosphere was tense.
“If those Orientals once get into Texas, they’ll be as hard to round up
as jackrabbits.”
“Yes, and if we break up Ramirez’s gang, there’ll be no boats for the
Orientals to cross in.”
“Just what I was thinking. Three ships ought to be enough, two in each.”
“Right. I’ll telephone the field to warm ’em up.” And Captain Murray
turned to white-haired old Doctor Garfield, who like the others, had
been an interested listener, and asked him for the location of his
telephone. The Doctor silently threw open a door, and switched on the
light in the next room, and Captain Murray sat down to the phone.