A PRISONER
"It was just like one of those Western photoplays that sometimes
come to the Freeling movie palace, and which Mrs. Cupp, the ogress
of Lake-view Hall, does not approve of, and never will let us girls
attend if she can help it," sighed Bess ecstatically, later on.
Bess Harley was especially fond of such dramas. And Walter, too,
took delight in the imaginative if rather crude pictures of the
West as it used to be.
But here was the real thing. Even Nan was held breathless by the
tense drama. Rhoda's hints and tales of adventure had not
altogether prepared her visitors for anything like this.
Hess Kane must have thought that the situation called for the
sudden and stern action he had taken. Of course, Nan Sherwood
thought, that snaky-looking Mexican was not wearing those two
silver-mounted pistols in his sash just for ornament.
Tom Collins slid out of his saddle at a slight gesture from Kane
and went behind the Mexican to disarm him.
"Keep your hands up," he said to the fellow. "Our wrangler ain't
gifted much with speech, but he's sure a good shot. Where's the
rest of your gang?"
"No understand," said the fellow sullenly.
"Mean to say you are alone?" Tom demanded.
"Si, Senor."
"Where's your horse?"
"I am afoot, Senor."
"Stop it! Don't try any of your Mex. jokes. You afoot, and with
them spurs on your shanks?" and the cowboy pointed to the enormous
silver spurs on the man's boots.
"That's one of the fellows that stampeded them steers last night,"
said Frank, with conviction.
The Mexican looked startled. His black eyes shot glances around the
group which faced him.
"Look out that we're not ambushed," said Rhoda in a low voice.
"There may be others around."
"We'll keep our eyes open," said Tom easily. "Guess I'll tie this
fellow's wrists, just the same."
He removed his neckerchief as he spoke. He twisted it into a
string, and suddenly snatched the Mexican's hands behind him. The
fellow exploded some objection in his own language, and would have
fought Tom, but Kane thrust the weapon he held forward again and
the prisoner subsided.
Meanwhile Bess excitedly whispered to the other girls:
"Do you know who I believe he is? I feel sure of it!"
"Who?" Nan and Grace chorused.
"That Juan Sivello that Mexican girl wrote to Rhoda about."
"I had thought of that," said Rhoda, nodding. "It may be."
"And if it is," whispered Bess, thrilling at the thought, "he's got
the diagram of the hiding place where his uncle put all that
treasure."
"Goodness me!" sighed Grace, "how rich we should all be if we found
it."
"It surely would be great," her brother said.
"And that poor Juanita and her mother would get their money back,"
Nan added.
"Risk our Nan for remembering the poor and needy," laughed Bess.
"There are others to think of besides that Mexican girl and her
mother," said Rhoda seriously. "According to the tales we have
heard about Lobarto's treasure, at least half a dozen families had
been robbed by him along the Border. And churches, too.
"Some of the haciendas he burned and destroyed the people in them.
They could claim nothing, of course. And he had a lot of other
plunder that nobody knew who its actual owners were, so the story
goes."
"Poor people!" sighed Nan.
"Say! give us a chance to divide a few millions among us," said the
reckless Bess. "Who ever heard of treasure-seekers who were not
made rich beyond the dreams of avarice when they found the hoard?"
She had spoken rather loudly. The Mexican glanced up at them
suddenly and his eyes flashed. He muttered something under his
little, stringy, black mustache.
"Look out, Bess," warned Nan. "He heard you then."
"Well, what of it?" demanded the reckless one. "Aren't the boys
going to search him' and find that map Lobarto made?"
"My! but you are a high-handed young lady," chuckled Walter.
"What we going to do with him, now we've got him?" asked Tom
Collins suddenly.
"Daddy ought to see him, don't you think?" said Rhoda confidently.
"Yep," agreed Hess Kane, returning his pistol to its holster.
"Well, now, I reckon that would be the proper caper," said Tom
Collins. "Say, _hombre,_" he added, nudging the Mexican, "where's your
horse?"
"I am afoot, I tell you," was the reply.
"I can see you are--now," admitted the puncher. "But you'll have a
fine walk in those boots to Rose Ranch."
"I will not walk to the Ranchio Rose!"
"Then you'll be dragged," Tom said coolly. "I reckon my little roan
can do it."
"No," said Kane. "Put him on the pack mare."
They were all eager to get the young Mexican to Mr. Hammond and see
what the shrewd old ranchman could make out of him. The saddle and
goods were removed from the pack animal, and cached. For the girls
did not intend to give up their treasure-hunting trip--by no means!
It was only postponed.
"I'd give a good deal to know what became of the rest of this
Greaser's gang," said Frank, the other cowpuncher.
"After they stampeded them steers, maybe they run away," Tom
observed.
They put the prisoner astride the saddleless horse and made their
way slowly to the ranch house. It was almost bedtime when they
arrived, and the family was much surprised to see them at that
hour.
"Well, I swanny!" ejaculated Mr. Hammond, "is this the best you
girls could pick up-a Greaser? Do you call him a treasure?"
The prisoner's eyes flashed again as he heard this. He stood by
sourly enough while the girls explained more fully to the ranchman.
"All right! All right!" growled Mr. Hammond. "If he is one of those
that stampeded the steers, he'll see the inside of the jail. I'd
like to catch 'em all."
The visitors made their way to bed as soon as they had eaten their
late supper; but Rhoda remained with her father when he questioned
the Mexican.
At first the prisoner refused to give any information about himself
or his business near Rose Ranch. But being an old hand at that
game, Mr. Hammond finally made him see that it would be wiser for
him to reply. If he did not wish to get others into trouble, he
would better try to save himself.
And it soon appeared that the young Mexican did not feel altogether
kindly toward the men who had come over the Border with
him--whoever they were. There had been some quarrel, and the others
had abandoned him, taking even his horse with them when they did so.
"Were you with them when they ran off the Long Bow stock?" asked
Mr. Hammond.
"That was not done by us. We separated from those thieves of
horse-stealers when they would put their necks in jeopardy," the
Mexican said in his own tongue, which both Mr. Hammond and Rhoda
understood.
"So you kept out of that, heh? Then you rode up this way?"
"Into the hills," said the other sullenly. "The country is free."
"Not to such as you unless you can give a mighty good reason for
being over there. You and your friends have cost me more'n a
hundred steers."
"Not me!" ejaculated the prisoner, shaking his head.
"No?"
"I tell you they abandoned me. I do not know where they go."
"And what were you hanging about that place over there in the hills
for?" demanded Mr. Hammond. "Come, now! Didn't you give your
friends the slip because you wanted to hunt for that old hidden
treasure?"
"Senor!"
"Never mind denying it," said the ranchman sternly. "And I reckon I
can make another guess. You are Lobarto's nephew. Your name is Juan
Sivello. I bet there's a warrant out for you in the sheriff's
office at Osaka right now, my boy."
The young Mexican jumped up, startled. Mr. Hammond reached out a
hand and pushed him back into his seat.
"Sit down, boy. You'd better make a clean breast of it. I want to
know all you know about that old bandit's hoard, or you'll go to
the sheriffs office with me in the morning. Take your choice."