THE RAIDERS RAIDED
When he came to the surface, Bob’s first sensation was one of extreme
weariness. So spent was he that it was all he could do to keep himself
afloat. The possibility of another shot from Miguel did not spur him to
dodging in the water. If the shot was to come, it would. Bob knew that
he was alive, therefore the danger which threatened the dam was over.
This being the case, a great contentment came to him--what could happen
to him now mattered very little.
But as the minutes passed he got back his grasp on things and realized
that no more shots were coming. Evidently the Mexican had become
frightened and had run. The next thing he knew was that he was being
pulled out of the water by Feather-in-the-Wind.
“Hurt?” said the Indian.
“No,” Bob gasped. “Mig--Miguel got away!”
The redskin did not seem to bother about the Mexican’s escape. From the
gentle way in which he handled the boy, it was clear that he was proud
of him, proud that the young white man had done such a brave deed. He
had seen what had happened as he came running back from the camp.
“No matter,” he said. “You save dam. I see. Good work.”
The praise acted like a tonic on the weary boy. He stood up.
“We’d better hurry back,” he said, “and send someone after the Greaser.
He’s dangerous.” And without further words the two set forth.
Under the moon the town lay quiet, only a lighted window here and there
to tell that it was inhabited. Around the machinery and on the dam
itself tiny shadows moved to show that the watchmen were not sleeping.
Just before they reached the Quarter-house, a horse and rider galloped
up the hill. Bob recognized Jenkins and stopped him.
“Did you get your men?”
“They dusted ’fore I got there,” was the disgusted answer. “I trailed
’em down stream but I reckon they’ve hit the border by now.”
“Sorry,” sympathized Bob, “but I guess they found I’d got out and that
scared ’em.”
“I reckon so, ’cause they had too good a start for me to catch up with
’em. Good night to ye,” he finished and galloped off to put his tired
horse away and get some much-needed rest for himself.
“Too bad,” grunted the Indian as they walked on. “But you no tell him
’bout Miguel. Why not?”
“I think I’d better report to Big Boss first. Perhaps he will have some
other plan.”
“Boss Whitney not here,” stated the Indian. “Boss Taylor good man but
not like Chief. You wait for him. Now I go send one, two my young men
trail Miguel. Perhaps they catch him--Jenkins, he never catch him. He
tired. Not much good trail nohow.”
This sounded like good advice to Bob.
“Go ahead,” he said. “I’d like to see Miguel well punished.”
The Indian stalked swiftly away and Bob turned towards his boarding
house and sleep. It seemed a safe bet that there would be no further
trouble that night. In all probability if an uprising amongst the
Mexican laborers had been planned it would not come off to-night. Bob
was sure that the blowing up of the dam would have been the signal for
the starting of general hostilities. Since he had been able to prevent
the signal being given, and at the same time had scared Miguel off, the
chances were that all would remain quiet. Leaderless, the Mexicans were
harmless, and Bob had a hunch that Miguel was the only one of them who
was strong enough to direct the revolt.
But a surprise awaited him when he pushed open the door of his room.
Seated on the bed was Ted Hoyt, who showed signs of having anxiously
awaited him.
“At last! I thought you’d never show up.”
“What’s the rush?” asked Bob. “Found out something?”
“You bet I have. A whole heap. Bet it’ll make your hair curl--”
“Come on, Ted, old scout, out with it,” Bob urged the excited boy.
“You haven’t said anything yet. You’ve tuned up, now play something!”
“I--I think a bunch of Greasers are goin’ to raid the dam!”
“What?” Bob exploded. “Mexicans from the other side of the border?”
“Yes, I think so. Reg’lar bandits--about fifty of ’em.”
“How do you know?”
“I saw ’em. Dad sent me out ’bout sundown to hunt a stray calf and I
saw some smoke coming from a draw where nobody had any business being.
I hitched my nag and crawled up until I could see.”
“And what did you see?”
“A bunch of armed Mexicans! They had camped for supper. I figgered that
they were coming on up here to-night, so I beat it straight for you.
Bet Dad’s got a search party out huntin’ me right now!”
“Gee whiz, but we’ll have to get busy in a hurry,” snapped Bob. “Come
on, we’ll wake Mr. Taylor.”
He had turned towards the door as he was speaking and the words died
in his throat as the door flew open and a dusty form stepped into the
lighted room.
It was Jerry King!
“You?” gasped Bob. “You? What are you doing here? To tell us that the
dirty work you started is successful?”
The boy stood straight under the taunts his former friend heaped upon
him. A little smile was at the corner of his mouth as he answered.
“You haven’t much faith in me, have you? You are quite ready to believe
that I have been a traitor to the Service.”
“But--but you are!” stammered Bob, taken aback for a moment by Jerry’s
words. “Didn’t you admit it--”
“Whatever I am, we haven’t got time to gas about it now. I came to--”
“I don’t care what you came for,” flashed Bob. “Don’t try to sell
out the other side now! It’s bad enough as it is without your
double-crossing your new friends!”
For a long moment both boys eyed each other without flinching. Then in
a flash Bob’s anger fled and he thought clearly. Jerry must not be
let out to do more damage. He was too dangerous. He must be caught and
put away until the crisis was over. No sooner had the thought flashed
through his mind than he acted. Jerry was nearest the door, which was
still open, so a leaping tackle was the only thing that would work.
Bob dived at his former chum with all his force. They grappled.
“At him, Ted! We’ve got to keep him!” he panted as he struggled with
his adversary.
Ted was so amazed by the sudden happening that he could not make his
muscles respond to the call immediately. When he did get started it
was too late, for Jerry had got an arm free and had swung his fist to
Bob’s jaw. The blow, while it did not knock the Eastern boy out, was
sufficient to loosen his grasp and Jerry jerked away and flashed out of
the room.
Ted went after him on a run but again he was too late, for when he
reached the threshhold of the house, his quarry had disappeared.
Dashing back through the hall, he met Bob on his way out, and they went
to the door.
“Lost him,” reported Ted. “Clumsy fool I am!”
“Don’t worry,” returned Bob. “I ought to have been able to hold him.
I’m only worried about what he might do now. I’m going to wake Mr.
Taylor.”
“No good do that,” a quiet voice came to them from right beside them in
the shadow of the doorway.
“Feather-in-the-Wind!” gasped Bob. “You back?”
“I go myself trail Miguel. I catch his track and run swiftly. Big moon
help much. Pretty soon I see little light just below big dam in bushes.”
“Was it--was it some strange Mexicans?” asked Ted excitedly.
“Yes. All got guns. Horses too. Bad men.”
“Your bandits!” whispered Bob to Ted. The other boy nodded an assent.
“Go on,” he urged the Indian.
“I crawl up. Much big talk. Miguel talk much. Think want Greasers start
trouble. Greaser leader say no start trouble till Miguel get Greasers
here start trouble too. Pretty soon Miguel he start back towards camp.
But much afraid you tell ’bout dynamite dam and people watch for him.
He go slow. I run behind. Catch--”
“You killed him?”
The Indian came as near to chuckling as he was able.
“No kill. Tie, gag, throw in bushes. Him no more trouble to-night. Then
come here get you.”
“Fine work!” was Bob’s comment. “Gives us time to turn around.” Then he
suddenly remembered that the Indian had started the talk by advising
against bringing Mr. Taylor into the emergency. “But why not get Boss
Taylor?”
“No use. He just rouse camp. Everything mixed up. Got better plan.”
“What is it?” urged the boys.
“Plenty young men my tribe. Got five--six guns. Plenty make much noise.”
“I see,” cried Bob joyously. “We’ll take ’em and surround the Greasers.
Then shoot off the guns and scare ’em off! That it?”
The Indian grunted and without a word led the way towards his camp.
Bob rushed back to the house and caught up a revolver that he had
bought to take care of any snakes that he might meet on his jaunts away
from the dam. He did not catch up with Feather-in-the-Wind and Ted
until they had reached the Indian encampment. The redskin was already
rousing the braves he had picked to take part in the adventure, and
there was nothing for the boys to do until all the arrangements had
been made.
Bob wondered what had become of Jerry. Could he have gone to warn the
bandits? It seemed the most likely thing, yet there was just a chance
that as the plot had become so mixed up by Miguel’s failure to pull
off the mining of the coffer dam, that Jerry would be busy in another
direction. He might have decided to go and tell the cattlemen that
a serious hitch had occurred. It was all very puzzling, especially
Jerry’s sudden appearance in their room.
This started a new train of thought. Why had Jerry been foolish enough
to show himself in the Quarter-house? Nothing could be gained by it.
Could it be that he had come to warn Bob of the impending danger
to the dam and consequently to himself? Perhaps the memory of the
dangers they had shared and overcome in the Labyrinth had stirred him
to a moment of remorse and a desire to see his chum safe. This seemed
the most likely explanation but further thought was impossible, for
Feather-in-the-Wind was ready to start.
The Apache chief had sent his braves ahead, telling them to go
separately to the point he mentioned and not to do more until he gave
the signal. Therefore, only the two boys were left to go with him.
“Let’s go down by the Mexican bunkhouses and see if anything is
stirring there,” suggested Ted Hoyt. “It’s on our way and just the
three of us won’t attract much attention.”
They picked their way through the sleeping village, which was now dark
as the moon had long since finished its journey across the sky. All
seemed quiet in the Mexican houses, but when they got up close a figure
slipped from a shadow and challenged them.
“No further this way!” the order came in quiet yet determined English.
Bob recognized in the speaker one of the extra watchmen Boss Taylor
had put on.
“Right,” answered the boy and the trio moved on, only to be stopped
again a hundred feet further on and the same order passed.
“Gee whiz!” Bob exclaimed. “Guess Taylor has gotten wise and stuck a
bunch around here to sit on the Mexicans if they start anything. Didn’t
think he had it in him!”
“That will help us a heap,” was Ted’s idea. “We won’t have to worry
about their taking a hand in our game!”
Feather-in-the-Wind only grunted and led the way swiftly towards the
place where he had come on the Mexican bandits. The dark seemed to
bother him little, if at all, for he walked with long strides, missing
obstructions as if by intuition. The boys had difficulty in keeping up
with him and it was a relief to them when he finally slowed down and
stopped. Telling them by gestures to use the greatest caution against
making a noise, on he went, the boys following.
They had crossed the river and were going down stream. Here there was a
gentle rise in the ground. About halfway to the top of this hill the
Indian motioned them to stay where they were and then, taking their
obedience for granted, dropped on hands and knees and started to crawl
rapidly the remainder of the way.
The excitement was too much for Bob. To stay still while serious events
might be happening was not what he had bargained for and as soon as
Feather-in-the-Wind was out of sight in the underbrush, he too started
off, using the same manner of locomotion.
So cleverly had Feather-in-the-Wind secreted himself at the top of the
rise that Bob was about to crawl over him, thinking it was a fallen log
that obstructed his path. Stifling an exclamation, he lay still. The
Indian did not show any signs of annoyance that his orders had been
disobeyed and when he started to wriggle into a position from which he
could see the other side of the hill, by a move of the hand he invited
the boy to follow.
At first glance there seemed nothing amiss. To Bob’s untrained eye, the
shadows that lay heavily in the dark of the night were only scrub pine
and underbrush. But as he looked these shadows took form and substance.
They were men, sitting or lying relaxed, in attitudes of waiting. A
faint nicker and trampling of hoofs told that horses were hobbled in
the vicinity.
Bob heard a crunching noise behind him and turned his head to find that
Ted Hoyt too had been unable to stand the strain of waiting uncertain
as to what was happening to his friends.
Suddenly the still and silent air was rent by a noise that has no equal
in the world. It was the blood-curdling war whoop of an Indian. Coming
so close to their ears, although they had been expecting it, the boys
nearly jumped out of their skins with terror.
Feather-in-the-Wind had given the signal to his men. A moment later
answering whoops seemed to come from all parts of the compass and these
were emphasized by a rattle of rifle shots.
Bob jumped to his feet and began pulling the trigger of his revolver as
fast as his fingers would work. Then, yelling, he followed Ted and the
Apache in the rush down the hillside.
The Mexicans, surprised by the suddenness of the attack, did not wait
to fire many shots in return. A mad scramble for their horses was
taking place and dimly Bob saw the outlines of the marauders string out
at a mad gallop.
When on a dead run he reached the foot of the hill, all the Mexicans
had gone, fleeing from what they supposed was a trap.
Feather-in-the-Wind had become separated from them, but his plan had
worked! This was Bob’s first thought, but his exultation was cut short
by the most surprising event of this eventful night!
The clear notes of a bugle rang forth in the thrilling signal to
charge!