BILLIE LOSES HIS NERVE.
Broncho Billie was not a rapid walker. In fact, if there was any
one thing in which Billie was not a success, it was walking. He
could ride a horse all day, but when it came to depending upon
his own legs as a means of locomotion, he was a dead failure.
Therefore he walked slowly along, counting the ties as he went.
"They certainly do lay 'em thick," he mused after some minutes.
"Three hundred and one, three hundred and two, three hundred and
three, three hundred and four, three hun----"
He stopped short and looked behind him.
"I sure thought I heard some one," he muttered. "It must have
been a bird."
He turned and started forward.
"Let's see, where was I? Oh, yes, three hundred and five, three
hundred and six, three hundred and----"
Again he stopped, but did not turn around. Instead he stooped
down as though to pick up a stone, which enabled him to look
backward between his knees.
He caught a movement in the grass at the edge of the right of
way.
"I thought so," he muttered. "Now to find out who it is, and what
he wants."
He picked up a small stone and threw it at a tall cactus which
grew near the track some distance ahead.
"Good shot," he said aloud as the stone hit the stalk. "I wonder
if I could do it again."
He stooped down and picked up another stone, taking a good look
backward from his stooping position. There was not a movement to
indicate the presence of a living thing.
"This is getting on my nerves," the boy mused as he picked up
several small stones and again walked forward. "I don't mind
being followed by a white man, but I'm a whole lot leary of these
greasers. They're bad enough when they're friendly."
Then aloud, as he threw a couple of stones: "I'll never get
anywhere if I don't make better time than this. I'll just sprint
a few."
Suiting the action to the word, he started on a run.
Almost immediately he was aware of a soft pat-pat in his rear. He
had heard a similar sound in the wilds of Wyoming and he
recognized it at once.
It was the footfall of a four-legged animal.
"So!" he ejaculated. "I wonder what it is. If there were wolves
down here I would say it was a wolf, but I don't believe there
are." Then a minute later, "Well, whatever it is, I'm going to
find out."
He whipped out his automatic and turned suddenly.
As before, not a single living thing was in sight, only in the
grass a movement as before.
Without a moment's aim, he fired a single shot at the spot. It
was an act born of fear and Billie knew it, but for the life of
him he could not have done otherwise, so nervous had he become.
The report was followed by a cry of pain and an instant later
there came running directly toward him out of the tall grass a
figure so weird that Billie stood as one paralysed.
The figure was that of a man not more than two feet high, with
long arms and a head of diminutive size. While it stood upright
at times, at others it came forward on all fours. To Billie it
seemed a cross between a man and a monkey.
Gathering his wits in an instant, Billie would have fired
again--in fact, raised his revolver to do so, when the strange
creature fell to its knees and raised its hands in supplication.
"By George!" exclaimed the lad as he stood with lowered weapon.
"What kind of a thing is this? I wonder if it can talk?"
Then as he took a step toward it: "I'm not going to hurt you.
Come here."
The creature arose to its feet and came slowly toward him. As it
did so Billie noticed that blood was running from a wound in its
scalp.
"Poor thing," he said. "That must have been where the bullet hit
him. It was a close shave."
"Can you talk?" he finally asked.
The strange creature turned its head to one side and eyed him
closely, but no sound came from its lips.
"It must be an ape of some sort," mused the boy; "but how did it
become so tame?"
He slowly returned his automatic to its holster, thinking in the
meantime how he could dress the creature's wound; but no sooner
had his hand left his weapon than the ape sprang at him with the
utmost fury. It landed on his shoulder, wound its legs about his
neck, and with its long arms made a wild grab for the revolver.
Then began a strange and terrible struggle for the possession of
the weapon. Even as he fought the beast, Billie realized that in
some manner the ape had learned to fear firearms, but whether it
had ever learned to use them he could not venture a guess. He
felt certain if he could draw the weapon and point it at the ape,
it would at once cringe in fear. What might happen if the ape
should get possession of it, he could only imagine.
For a youth of eighteen, there were few whom Billie met that were
his match physically, but this diminutive man-animal held him as
in a vise. Billie exerted every ounce of his strength to free
himself from the terrible hold, while the ape fought even more
fiercely to retain its grip and to gain possession of the weapon.
It was a weird and fearful struggle waged there in the stillness
of the tropical woodland--a stillness broken only by the
occasional wild scream of the ape, or the hoarse breathing of the
boy as he fought to free himself from that horrible grasp.
The struggle must have lasted for two or three minutes--to Billie
it seemed hours--when by a sudden wrench the lad managed to free
his left arm sufficiently to get the beast by the throat. For an
instant it loosed its hold on his right arm and that act decided
the battle.
Finding his right arm free, Billie seized his revolver and
without drawing it from the holster pulled the trigger.
At the sound of the shot, the ape uttered a plaintive cry,
relaxed its hold upon the lad and fell upon its knees on the
ground with its hands raised in supplication as previously.
"I ought to shoot you," declared the lad between his gasps for
breath as he drew the weapon from its holster and pointed it at
the animal, "but I won't. I'll take you with me and maybe I can
sell you for enough to pay me for the scare you've given me. Now,
march!"
He pointed with his finger down the track, but the beast would
not stir.
"Don't you intend to do what I tell you?"
The animal perked up his head and kept his eye upon the revolver.
"Well," exclaimed Billie as he drew a long breath, "this is the
limit. I can't make you mind and I won't hurt you. I guess the
only thing I can do is to go and leave you."
Suiting the action to the word, Billie turned and started down
the track, his revolver still in his hand.
He had not gone more than a dozen steps, before he heard the soft
pat-pat behind him, and on looking back could see nothing but the
waving grass to indicate the whereabouts of his erstwhile
assailant.
"So I am to be followed, am I? Well, all right." Then, as an
afterthought: "I wonder how I can catch him when I want him. I
wonder if this will do," and he raised his weapon and pointed it
toward the moving grass.
With the same plaintive cry which Billie had come to recognize
as one of fear, the animal ran toward him and sank to his knees.
Billie smiled.
"It's all right, old chap. As long as I know how to handle you,
why you can follow me right back to the train."
Again he started down the track at a brisk walk, it having just
occurred to him that there might be something doing at the other
end of his journey.
Twenty minutes later he reached the station at Pitahaya where he
had expected to find Adrian and the three Mexicans awaiting him,
but, as we know, they had gone on to the scene of the wreck. Not
realizing just what had happened, but always on the alert for the
unexpected, Billie, therefore, began an inspection of the
station.
It did not take him long to discover that Pitahaya was little
more than a siding with a one-room building, which was used as a
freight house and a waiting room. It did not even boast of a
station master.
"There must be some reason for having a building here," he mused.
"There must be some sort of a settlement around somewhere. But
what's that to me? I might as well be jogging along towards
Pachuca."
Then he bethought him of the ape, which he had no mind to lose
after his exciting experience. But the animal was nowhere to be
seen.
"I wonder if I could raise him with a shot," soliloquized
Billie.
He raised his weapon, which he still carried in his hand, and
fired aimlessly, while he turned his eyes in various directions,
but there was nothing to be seen.
"Oh, well," he thought, "what's the difference? He'd just be a
nuisance anyway. I might as well be trudging along."
He jumped off the station platform and proceeded down the track,
filling the magazine to his automatic as he went. Then having
finished the task, he returned it to his holster and once more
began counting the ties.
"One, two, three, four, five, six----"
Bing! And a stone whistled by his head.
Billie turned, and as he did so a second stone from the same
source struck him on the temple, and he fell to the ground.
A second later the ape sprang from a palm beside the station and
ran toward him, stopping every few feet to see if the lad would
rise.
When within a few feet of the prostrate lad the animal made a
leap and landed upon his body. In another instant it had gained
possession of Billie's weapon, which it examined curiously for a
moment, ere it sprang away and stationed itself some two rods
distant, where it sat watching with the weapon aimed directly at
him.
For perhaps five minutes the two retained their relative
positions and then Billie began to regain consciousness. Several
times he moved uneasily and then he suddenly sat up and looked
around.
"I wonder what happened," he finally thought, and then he became
conscious of a pain in his head.
He raised his hand to the aching spot and his fingers encountered
a big lump.
The truth came upon him like a flash. He dropped his hand to his
holster, and sprang to his feet.
As he did so he caught sight of the ape and found himself looking
into the business end of his own weapon.
With a yell he dropped to the ground as though the expected had
happened.
But when no shot followed, he began to regain his wits and lay
still trying to figure out once more just how much the ape might
know about the use of the weapon.
He remembered the old saying that a gun was a dangerous weapon
without lock, stock or barrel, because a man killed his wife
with the ramrod; and so he figured that an animal which had
intelligence enough to throw a stone and knock him senseless,
might have sense enough to fire a revolver.
"If I only knew something about his history," soliloquized
Billie, "I might be able to guess how much he knew. But he is a
perfect stranger to me. I don't even know his name."
After several minutes and nothing had happened, Billie decided to
make some effort to get away.
"I might as well be shot as to be prisoner to an ape," he
thought, and so he arose to a sitting posture and surveyed the
scene.
There sat the ape as before, with the automatic pointed at
Billie, but with a puzzled look upon its face. When the lad
finally arose, the ape appeared still more puzzled and at length,
turning the weapon away from Billie, looked into the muzzle.
"That settles it," exclaimed Billie. "He doesn't know how to fire
it. I'll go and take it away from him."
He started toward the animal, which at once pointed the revolver
in Billie's direction. There came a sharp report and a bullet
whizzed by the boy's head.
"Worse and more of it," exclaimed Billie. "He doesn't know how to
use the thing, but he's liable to shoot me as long as I stay in
range. I'll just make myself scarce."
Stooping down, he picked up a good-sized stone and hurled it at
the ape and then, without waiting to see the result of his throw,
jumped into the jungle which lined both sides of the track,
determined to make a detour and if possible lose his unpleasant
companion.
He had not run far before he realized that the ape was following,
but this he did not mind. There were plenty of trees between
them, and he felt sure he would soon be able to reach some sort
of a habitation, when he suddenly found himself on the edge of a
deep basin into which he plunged before he was able to gain his
equilibrium.