AT THE IRRIGATION DAM.
Bright and early, before the last stars had faded, in fact, Jack
Merrill and Pete eagerly roused Jim Hicks for the trip to the water
company's dam. Both of them hated the idea of losing a minute on this
important errand. Once awakened, Jim Hicks proved a nimble person,
and breakfast was soon dispatched, his animals packed and saddled,
and Maud made ready. No time was lost in hitting the trail when these
preparations had been concluded. Jim Hicks was a born trailer, and led
the two travelers over the ragged ways of the rough mountains in a
skillful manner that excited even Coyote Pete's admiration.
At noon they ate a hasty meal and then pressed on. Jim Hicks promised
to land them at the dam at about dusk. Controlling their impatience as
best they could, Jack Merrill and Coyote Pete rode obediently after
the prospector. One change had been made in the cavalcade since noon.
One of the packs had been transferred to Maud, while another pack had
been taken off one of the other ponies and had been distributed between
two of his brethren. This left two ponies for Coyote Pete and his young
companion to ride.
After this change they pressed on far more quickly, and shortly before
sundown their guide halted on the top of a ridge and pointed downward.
Far below them they could see an immense silvery sheet of water--a
small lake, in fact. Its surface shimmered in the dying light, and,
at another time the two travelers would have admired the sight of the
mirror-like sheet of water in its natural frame of rock and ragged
timber. Now, however, their thoughts were riveted on the idea of
getting to the 'phone, and, by the tiny filament of wire, summoning
powerful aid for their beleaguered companions.
"Purty, ain't it?" asked Jim Hicks softly.
"Shouldn't have imagined they'd ever have got such a lot of water
together out here," grunted Coyote Pete. "Where's it all come from?"
"Partly from damming up the creek, and partly from the water that pours
off the higher ridges when the snow melts in the spring. We're purty
high up here, you know."
"Well, that's a pretty good showing for a country where the rainfall
isn't more than four inches a year," commented Coyote Pete.
"Not that, sometimes," put in Jim Hicks, "and, by the same token, if
this wasn't summer I should say we were in for some rain now."
He looked overhead, and Jack noticed that the sky, which had been
cloudless not very long before, was now black and overcast. A heavy
element was in the air, too--an oppressive sort of feeling.
"Come on, let's be getting down the slope," said Coyote Pete suddenly,
and once more they moved onward. As they threaded their way down the
narrow trail, Jack's mind reverted to the destroyed bridge.
"How far should you imagine that bridge was below here?" he asked.
"You mean where the bridge was, I reckon," grinned Jim Hicks, who had
heard the story of the Mexican's trick, from Jack and his companion.
"Well, I should judge about five miles from here."
"Then we are on the Mexican side of the canal cañon?"
"Yep; but we'll soon be on American soil, sonny, don't forget that."
"Not likely to," rejoined Jack fervently.
After half an hour's riding, the great water-works came into full view.
There was a massive, containing-wall of cement, with a pathway along
the top, and in the center the trailers could see the machinery used
for opening and closing the sluice pipes that fed the irrigation canal.
Word was telephoned from the land company's offices in Maguez to the
dam-keeper regarding the pressure to be used, and, in accordance with
their instructions, he turned on more or less.
At the near side of the dam was a small building in which the
dam-keeper made his home. From its roof there extended a pole,
from which, to Jack's intense delight, they could see a thin wire
stretching off to the north. On that wire now depended so much that
Jack almost felt like taking his hat off to it and to the inventor of
telephones.
"Geddap!" urged Jim Hicks, cracking his quirt about the haunches of his
pack animals. The little cavalcade broke into a brisk trot. The dust
spurted from under their rattling hoofs.
"We're coming on in style," laughed Jack, as they came briskly down the
last few rods of the trail.
"Don't see old Simmons about," commented Jim Hicks, looking for some
sign of the dam-keeper. "Guess he's taking a snooze some place. Hey,
Sam! Sam!"
"Here he comes," said Jack briskly, as the door of the dam-tender's hut
opened. But the next moment every member of the approaching party gave
a gasp of dismay. Jim Hicks spasmodically jerked up his rifle to his
shoulder, but instantly lowered it again.
From the door of the hut there had stepped out, not old Sam Simmons,
the dam-tender, but--Black Ramon and six of his men!
They held their weapons grimly leveled at Jack Merrill and his
companion, while Ramon sharply bade them dismount.
"We have prepared for you what we must call a little surprise party,"
he said. "Please tie your horses and we will go inside."
Resistance was useless, and they obeyed.
* * * * *
To understand how this came about, we must revert for a moment to
events which had been taking place at the old Mission and at the Rancho
Agua Caliente while we have been following the young adventurers and
their companions. We left Mr. Merrill and his cow-punchers riding back
toward the ranch with heavy hearts, bearing with them the wounded
Mexican, from whom they hoped to gain some information concerning Black
Ramon's whereabouts.
On the arrival of the disconsolate party at the ranch house, Mr.
Merrill had at once sent out a call to his neighbors, and they came
riding in from miles around to a consultation. All agreed that it would
be a grave invasion of international law to send an armed party over
the border, but it was agreed that, providing the Mexican recovered it
would be legitimate to surround Black Ramon's rendezvous--that is, if
the prisoner revealed it--and demand the surrender of the prisoners.
The Mexican authorities would then be informed and, if possible, Black
Ramon given over to justice.
This course would have been followed at once but for two reasons. Mr.
Merrill and his brother ranchers felt that to act prematurely might
ruin everything, and the wounded Mexican obstinately refused to get
better. Still another obstacle, was the great chasm left by the blowing
up of the bridge. It would be impossible to pass this. Just when this
difficulty seemed in its most serious phase, an old rancher spoke up
and volunteered to guide the party by a secret trail he knew of, which
led over the mountains and across the border.
As he spoke, the wounded Mexican, who for better attention and
observation had been laid on a cot in the living room of the ranch
house, stirred uneasily.
"Hullo, he's coming to," exclaimed Mr. Merrill bending over him, but
the man's eyes remained closed, and he seemed, to all intents and
purposes, as badly off as he had been before. For two days he remained
thus, and the ranchers carried on their consultations freely before
him, little dreaming what a hornets' nest they were preparing to bring
down about their own heads. On the morning of the third day, when Mr.
Merrill awakened he was astonished to find that the Mexican's cot was
empty. The man was gone! A search showed that he was not about the
place, and a further investigation revealed the fact that one of the
best horses on the ranch was missing.
The wounded Mexican had been "playing possum" just as a wounded animal
will sometimes do, awaiting but the slightest relaxation of vigilance
to be up and off.
The consternation this caused may be imagined. If the man understood
English, and there seemed little room to doubt that he did--otherwise
he would have had no object in deceiving them as to his real
condition--the ranchers' plans must by this time be known to Black
Ramon. Mr. Merrill was in despair for a time, but finally, as a last
recourse, and even at the risk of upsetting everything, he decided to
call up Los Hominos, a considerable town in Chihuahua province, and
request that soldiers be sent in pursuit of Black Ramon.
None knew better than Mr. Merrill the danger he thus incurred of having
his plans doubly revealed to the chief of the cattle rustlers. The
country posts of the Mexican army are largely recruited from men in
sympathy with the lawless element--especially if that lawless element
confines itself to preying on Americanos. There was, therefore, a
grave risk that some traitor in the ranks might convey the news of
Mr. Merrill's request to Black Ramon. That it was no time for doubts
or hesitation, however, every rancher felt, and on the top of Mr.
Merrill's message preparations were at once made for a start across the
border by the ranchers themselves.
In the meantime, the captured Mexican, whose wound, though severe,
still allowed him to ride, was spurring on his way across the Hachetas
to Black Ramon's headquarters in the old Mission. It has been said that
the greatest blackguards have sometimes the most faithful followers,
and this seemed to be the case with the Mexican miscreant, for his
underling, despite the pain of his wound and his weakened condition,
did not hesitate an instant over taking a ride which might have caused
even a slightly wounded man to pause and reflect on the undertaking.
Thus it had come about, that, at the same time that Jack Merrill and
Coyote Pete, escorted by the eccentric prospector, were setting out to
get in communication with civilization, Black Ramon and six of his most
trusted followers had started for the land company's dam, with what a
heinous purpose in view we shall presently see. The Mexican was in the
blackest of moods. He had hardly returned from his vain chase after
Jack Merrill and the cow-puncher before word had been brought to him
that his other prisoners had escaped.
The Mexican was almost beside himself with rage as he heard this,
and, in addition, news had been brought to him that Mr. Merrill had
requisitioned that a band of soldiers be sent in search of him. Armed
also with the wounded man's story of the pursuit of the ranchers by
means of the secret trail, Ramon was indeed almost desperate when he
set out with the intention of accomplishing the deed he had in mind.
He felt he would render his name hateful to Americans and glorious to
border Mexicans forever, and was all the more anxious to achieve it for
that reason.
His astonishment, therefore, when he heard Coyote Pete's hail and
emerged from the dam-tender's hut to find his escaped prisoners walking
right into his net again, was only equalled by his delight. As his
followers bound each of the three hand and foot, after roughly dragging
them from their ponies, Black Ramon rubbed his hands gleefully.
"You are going to see a sight before long that you will remember all
your days," he said, as the Americans, scornfully disdaining to utter a
word, were carried into the hut.
"What, you do not answer?"
"No, you yellow dog," grunted Jim Hicks disdainfully, "I'm mighty
particular who I talk to."
Beside himself with fury at the American's calm contempt, the Mexican
opened his palm and struck the bound and helpless miner a blow across
the face. Jim Hicks' ruddy, bronzed countenance went white as dead
ashes.
"You'll be sorry for that, you greaser, some day," he said in a quiet,
controlled tone, which to those who knew him signified trouble.
"Some day, yes!" laughed Ramon; "but I shall be far away some day,
amigo, but before I go I am going to give you Americanos a lesson
you will never forget. The father of this boy here, and twelve other
rancheros, are riding through the American foothills now to your
rescue. But they will never reach the mountains. Why?--Ah, you will
soon see."
As they were carried into the hut and thrown roughly on the floor,
Jim Hicks' eyes espied poor Sam Simmons, the tender of the dam. The
employee of the water company was also bound hand and foot, and seemed
to have been beaten into submission by the brutal Mexicans. He gave a
slight groan as he saw the plight of the new-comers, but made no other
sign.
"He resisted us," laughed Black Ramon harshly, "see what happened to
him. It is a good thing you gave in without making trouble."
As he spoke, there came a long, low grumble that shook the earth and
made the furniture in the hut rattle. It was the near approach of the
storm the captives had noticed impending. At the same instant, there
came a dazzling flash of lambent lightning. It illumined the cruel
faces about them as if a flickering calcium had been thrown upon them.
The advancing storm seemed to have a strange effect on Sam Simmons; he
stirred in his thongs and a pitiful expression came over his bruised
face.
"The storm! the storm!" he cried. "Hark! it is coming. Let me out to
tend the gates."
"Not likely," sneered Black Ramon, turning from him contemptuously.
"But the sluices must be opened. The rain is coming!" cried the old
man, seemingly galvanized into life by the call of duty. "Let me loose,
I say."
"Be quiet," snarled Ramon. "Do you want another dose of the same
medicine?"
The old man quivered pitifully, while the others looked on with eyes
that burned with indignation.
"If they are not opened, the dam will burst," begged the old man. "It
is weakened now, I tell you. It cannot stand the pressure of more
water. Let me up, and then you can tie me again."
Ramon seemed suddenly interested.
"You say that if the sluices are not opened the dam will burst?" he
asked.
"Yes, yes! Let me up, I must open them. I----"
"Silence! And if they burst what will happen?"
"Why, the whole valley from here down is a trough! The water will rush
down and destroy many lives and acres of property. Let me up, for
Heaven's sake, Ramon, or if you will not let me do it, open the sluices
yourself. You do not know what you are doing--every moment counts."
Again the thunder roared, and a blinding flash illumined with a blue,
steely radiance the strange scene in the old dam-tender's shanty.
In the brief period of lighting, Jack Merrill surprised a wickedly
radiant look on Ramon's face. At the same instant a few heavy drops of
rain fell on the roof.
"Hark! The rain!" cried the old man; "for mercy's sake, let me out. It
is my duty."
"Which you will not perform to-night," sneered the Mexican, as the
storm increased; "this storm saves us the use of dynamite."
In one dreadful flash of insight, Jack Merrill realized the Mexican's
terrible plan. He had intended to blow up the dam and flood the valley
below. The storm had taken the work out of his hands. The heavy
rain-fall would swell the dam till the weak containing wall broke. In
a few short hours every ranch in the course of the bursting dam would
be devastated. Yes, that was what the fruit rancher at Maguez had told
them. And there was nothing he could do but lie there powerlessly. The
boy's brain seemed to be on fire, but in his veins was ice.
Suddenly Black Ramon spoke. For an instant Jack thought he had
repented, but his words dashed that hope almost as it was born. The
Mexican issued a sharp order to two of his men.
"Screw down those sluice gates till not a drop escapes," he said. "We
do not want to have to wait too long."