RALPH A TRUE HERO.
"Ralph!"
The voice sounded in the boy's ears like the chiming of a far-away
bell. Lying prone on the floor of the tunnel, overcome by the foul
gases, he had been unconscious, he did not know for how long, when he
felt his shoulders roughly shaken and Walt Phelps' voice in his ear.
His head ached terribly, and he felt weak and dizzy, but he struggled
to reply.
"Oh, Walt, what is it? What has happened?"
"Why, we've all been knocked out, I guess," said Walt; "but the gas
must be escaping, now, for although my head still feels as if a boiler
factory was at work in it, I can think and feel."
The professor's voice now struck in as he recovered consciousness.
"Boys!" he exclaimed. "Are you there?"
"Yes, yes, professor; do you feel strong enough to move?"
"I think so. It is important that we should get out of here at once. I
imagine that the gas must have become so distributed by this time that
it has lost its harmful effect, but we must get to the open air."
"I agree with you," chimed in Ralph.
"What, Ralph, my boy, you here?" exclaimed the professor. "Why, you
were far in advance. How do you come to be with us now?"
As modestly as he could, Ralph related how he had turned back into the
black tunnel.
"That was bravely done, bravely done, my boy," exclaimed the professor
warmly.
Even in the darkness Ralph colored with pleasure, as Walt added his
praise to the scientist's.
Soon after they started for the entrance of the tunnel once more, Ralph
having told them of his discovery of the shaft.
"Possibly there are steps cut in it. Let us hope so," said the
professor. "If there are not, we shall be as badly off as before, for
we cannot get back through the tunnel."
"No," said Ralph with a shudder, "I would not face the horrors of the
place again for a whole lot."
A careful investigation of the shaft soon revealed, to their great joy,
that a flight of steps had indeed been cut in it, doubtless to enable
the old Mission dwellers to ascend and descend from the surface of the
earth when they desired.
"The question now is," said the professor suddenly, "where are we? On
what sort of ground will these steps lead us out?"
"Give it up," said Walt. "I should judge, though, we must have come a
mile or more through the tunnel."
"Quite that," agreed the professor.
"Well, the only way to find out our location is to climb up and see
what we come out on," said Ralph, to put an end to the hesitation.
"Who'll be first up?"
There was quite an argument over this, the professor declaring that,
as he was the eldest, he ought to assume the danger. Ralph ended it by
springing on to the first of the rough and slippery steps himself.
"Come on," he cried, though in a lowered tone.
A few seconds of climbing brought the boy to the mouth of the shaft.
It was quite thickly over-grown with brush, and had evidently not been
used for many years. For an instant Ralph hesitated before he shoved
through the scrub surrounding the entrance, but when he did so, and
stood outside the natural barrier with the professor and Walt Phelps
beside him, he uttered an exclamation of unbounded astonishment, which
was echoed by his companions.
Before them the moon was rising, tingeing the tops of the distant range
with a silvery light. The illumination also flooded the scene before
them.
They stood in a sort of vast, natural basin, of considerable extent,
surrounded by rocky walls.
"It's a sunken valley," exclaimed Ralph.
And so it was, in fact.
"Look at the cattle and horses, will you?" cried the practical Walt
Phelps, who had been gazing about him.
"Sure enough. There must be several score head of stock in here," was
Ralph's astonished cry.
"Say," exclaimed Walt suddenly, "do you know what I believe?"
"What?" inquired Ralph.
"That by accident we have stumbled upon Black Ramon's pasturage."
"What!--the place where he keeps the stolen cattle and horses?"
"That's the idea."
"Say, I believe you are right, and, speaking of that, there's something
very familiar looking about that little buckskin pony, feeding off
there." Ralph pointed at a small animal cropping the grass some ten
rods away. "If that isn't Petticoats--the one that tumbled me into the
canal--I'll lose a bet, that's all."
"I believe you're right," cried Walt Phelps; "and that other pony
beyond, is the dead spit of Firewater, Jack Merrill's favorite mount."
"And, if I mistake not, that large, bony animal yonder, regarding me
with a suspicious optic, is the equine I bestrode at the time we were
captured," exclaimed the professor, who had been looking eagerly about
him.
"Boys, this is a wonderful discovery," he went on. "I have read of
these sunken valleys, but have never seen one before; I should like to
examine the geological formation hereabouts."
"Some other time," laughed Ralph; "what I wonder at is that the
Mexicans never discovered the secret passage."
"That's not surprising," chimed in Walt Phelps, "the mouth of it is all
screened with thick brush, and unless you fairly fell into it you would
never know it was there."
"That is so," agreed the professor, "but now, boys, that we are once
more in the blessed air, what are we to do?"
"My advice would be to press on till we can find some village. Once
there, we shall be safe, and can find some soldiers, or, at least,
summon them from wherever their garrison may be. It is our duty to Jack
Merrill and Coyote Pete to use every means in our power to save them,"
said the professor, who, of course was, like his companions, ignorant
of the fact that at that very minute the two he spoke of were riding
over the distant foothills for their lives.
This also explained why the party that had just emerged from the tunnel
were not molested. Every man that could be spared from immediate guard
duty had been summoned to help form the great human circle, which,
as we know, Ramon had attempted to spread about Jack Merrill and the
sagacious cow-puncher.
"There doesn't seem to be anybody about," said Walt, after a short
silence, "let's get in the shadow of the rock wall and creep forward."
"Better yet, if we only had some rope," suggested Ralph.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, both Petticoats and the other two ranch horses seem to be
friendly, why couldn't we ride them?"
"The very thing, if only we could make hackamores," cried Walt.
As Ralph had remarked, the ranch horses had come closer, and were
sniffing curiously. To the boy's delight, he now saw that they had
halters on. As is often done in the West, when the start had been made
from the ranch the bridles had been placed on over the halters, so that
when the Mexicans turned the stolen ponies loose, being too lazy to
remove the halters, they had left them in place.
"Coax 'em," whispered Walt, holding out his hand flat, as if he had
something in it.
Ralph and the professor did the same, and, hesitatingly, and with many
snorts, the ponies drew closer, including the professor's raw-boned
mount. As they suddenly gathered up courage, and came right up to the
boys, each seized his pony by the halter. The professor followed their
example instantly.
"Now, to mount," said Walt. "By hookey, I tell you I feel better when I
get a pony under me again."
But the boys' attention was suddenly diverted to the professor, who was
endeavoring to mount his tall animal, which stood meekly awaiting the
conclusion of his efforts. The professor had never mounted a bareback
horse before, and imagined, apparently, that the correct method was
to shin up the quadruped's forelegs. The boys, notwithstanding their
risky situation, could not forbear roaring with laughter at his comical
efforts.
"Put one hand on his withers, and the other on his back, and then
spring upward," said Walt; "you'll find it easy, then."
The professor obediently doubled his long legs under him, placed his
hands as directed, and gave a mighty spring.
Bump!
Such a mighty leap did he give that he over-shot the mark, and came
down in a heap on the other side. He gave a groan as he alighted.
"What's the matter?" demanded Ralph, almost doubled up with laughter at
the weird spectacle.
"Oh, boys, I am in pain. I've landed on my os ridiculosus."
"Your what?" shouted Walt.
"My os ridiculosus--my funny bone. Ouch!"
The professor groaned aloud as he held his elbow and rocked back and
forth. The big, bony horse looked meekly around at him, as much as to
say: "Don't blame me, it wasn't my fault."
"Here, we'll give you a hand," said Walt, coming around to the
professor's side and leading Firewater. Ralph followed his example.
Together they hoisted the professor on to the back of his scrawny mount.
"Why, this feels like sitting on a clothes horse," grumbled the
professor, as he felt the bony elevation of the gray's spinal column.
"Never mind, can't be helped," laughed Ralph, springing on Petticoats'
broad back, while Walt mounted Firewater, "we'll make a circus rider of
you yet, professor."
"Not on this horse, please," remonstrated the man of science, as all
three animals were urged to a fast trot.
The boys decided that as there was no one in sight, the Mexicans had
left the valley unguarded for the night, and so did not hesitate to
make all the speed they could. As a matter of fact, the valley was
seldom visited except when a shipment of stolen cattle or ponies was
required. It was, as the professor had said, a natural basin from which
there was but one outlet, and that the boys were shortly to find.
For some time they rode along in the dark shadow of the rocky walls,
which varied in height from about twenty feet to small precipices of a
hundred feet or more.
"Say, it looks as if there wasn't any way out of this basin," began
Ralph finally, in an impatient tone.
"There must be," replied Walt; "otherwise, how did they get the cattle
and ponies into it?"
"Dropped 'em from a balloon, by the looks of it," rejoined Ralph, with
a good-natured laugh at his own stupidity.
"Indeed, it looks as if such might have been the case," said the
professor, "for all the visible sign there is of a pathway."
"Hold on! What's that there, dead ahead of us?" exclaimed Walt suddenly.
He had been riding a little in advance, and now drew rein abruptly and
pointed to a darker shadow which lay against the gloom of the rock wall.
"Looks like a path," admitted Ralph.
"It's a camino, sure enough," cried Walt, the next instant.
"A what?"
"A camino, a trail, you know."
"Well, I don't care what you call it, so long as it gets us out of
here," exclaimed Ralph, eagerly pressing forward.
As Walt had guessed, the darker shadow, on closer investigation, proved
to be a rugged trail leading at a steep incline out of the sunken
valley. In a few seconds after its discovery their horses' hoofs were
clattering up it.
"Great heavens, if there is any one about they'll think there's a
charge of cavalry coming," cried Ralph.
"Can't be helped," rejoined Walt, "we've nothing to muffle them with.
In any event, if they were to discover us, we shouldn't stand a chance."
But they reached the apparent summit of the trail, and a rough gate,
without adventure. It was only the work of a few instants to open the
portal, and, after riding a few hundred yards, they found themselves
on a billowy expanse of rolling foothills. Far off flashed lights, and
to their north the vague outlines of the Sierra de la Hacheta faintly
showed.
"Where are we going to ride to, now?" asked Ralph.
"Anywhere away from those lights," rejoined Walt, pointing behind them;
"that's the mission. I guess they are looking for us now, and it's
going to be 'bad medicine' if they get us."
"Oh, dear," groaned the professor, "I cannot imagine any worse
punishment than riding this bony brute. His backbone makes me feel like
being seated on a cross-cut saw."
"Never mind, professor, if we can only strike a town of some sort,
we shall soon be out of our misery," laughed Ralph. "Come on, then,
forward!"
He kicked Petticoats' fat sides, and the little buckskin leaped
forward, followed by the others. All that night they rode, and by
daybreak reached a small village--a mere huddle of huts, in fact.
But it had its dignitaries, as they were soon to find out. As
they clattered down its main street, scores of raggedly clothed,
brown-skinned natives came out to gaze at them, but not one offered to
do anything. Walt had a little Spanish at his command, and, selecting
one man, who seemed slightly more intelligent than the rest, he told
him they were travelers in need of food and rest. The man seemed to
comprehend, and nodded with a grin. Beckoning to the party, he led them
forward to a large adobe building at the other end of the one street,
which practically comprised the village.
He ushered them in with a bow, after they had dismounted and tied their
horses outside. The boys found themselves facing a little, paunchy man,
with an air of vast importance investing him. He asked a few rapid
questions of their guide in Spanish, and then issued an order to a
ragged-looking fellow standing by his side.
"I guess he's gone for breakfast," mused Ralph; "queer way of doing
things, but anything for something to eat."
But in a moment the ragged man reappeared without food, but with
several others as ragged as himself. The boys noticed they all carried
rifles.
The first ragged man beckoned to them, and the fat, paunchy official
waved his hand in token of dismissal. He also bowed low. The boys and
the professor, not to be outdone in politeness, also bowed low. Then
they followed their guide. He led them round behind the adobe which
they had just left, and approached a small building.
"The dining-room, I guess," said Walt cheerfully, as the three stepped
through a narrow door-way into a dark interior.
"I don't see any table or---- Great Scott, what's that?" broke off
Ralph suddenly.
The door had closed with a clang, and they heard the big bar on the
outside being placed in position.
"Hey, there, let us out!"
"What are you doing?"
"Where's our breakfast?"
These exclamations came in chorus from the travelers. For an instant
there was silence without, and then came a snarling sort of cry, which
sounded very much like a contemptuous:
"Yah-h-h-h-h!"
Furiously the two boys fell on the stout door and shook it. It remained
as firmly rooted in position as rock.
"We're prisoners once more," gasped Ralph.