JERRY COMES BACK
“What’s that?” cried Ted Hoyt, stopping in his stride.
“Blest if I know,” panted Bob. “But come on, we can see from the hill
over there!” and with this he started off again. When they reached the
place Bob had thought would be a point of vantage, the mystery was
explained.
“Soldiers!” Bob gasped as the outlines of the men grew clear against
the star-lit sky as they topped a near-by ridge. “Cavalry!”
“You sure?” demanded Ted. “I wonder how in thunder they drifted into
this here party. I figgered it was all ours.”
“I don’t know, but I am sure glad they’re here. Maybe they’ll catch
those devils and then we won’t ever have any more trouble with ’em.
But--listen!”
From a distance came the rattle of gunshots.
“The Greasers making a stand, I reckon,” was Ted Hoyt’s comment.
“Probably a regular battle.”
Bob was about to reply when an interruption stopped the words that were
on the end of his tongue. A crackling noise in the bushes had been the
only warning Feather-in-the-Wind had given of his approach. But his
companion was what surprised Bob.
Jerry again! Jerry, on whom the Indian was keeping a firm grip.
“I catch him. Not catch any other--Mexican.” The way the Indian said
the last word showed the contempt he felt for the boy who had sold out
his friends.
“Good! We’ll keep him until Boss Whitney can attend to his case.” Bob
rather expected Jerry to say something, but as there was no sound from
him, he continued:
“I think we’d better go back to camp. The shooting over there sounds as
if our part of the job is over. Think so?”
“Ugh!” grunted Feather-in-the-Wind, by way of saying yes. So, still
keeping his hold on Jerry, he led the way back to the Townsite. As
they marched, Bob suddenly realized that after the first yell and
charge from the Indians he had not heard or seen anything of them.
“Where are your young men?” he demanded of the Indian.
“I send ’em back. Watch Mexican house. Mebbeso white men need help. All
can do was scare Mexican. No got guns ’nough make fight.”
“No need to bother about the Greasers in camp. They won’t make any
trouble.” It was the first word spoken by their captive.
“Why?” flashed Bob, quick to take advantage of Jerry’s loosened lips.
“I’ll tell Mr. Whitney and no one else,” was the defiant answer.
Jerry’s first remark had evidently been surprised out of him and now he
was again in control of himself.
No amount of urging or surprise questions sufficed to break his silence
and the little party came to the lower camp before he had opened his
lips.
The place was in great confusion. The shooting, first of the Indians
and then of the soldiers, had thoroughly waked up the town. The center
of the activity seemed to be around the Mexican camp and when they
reached the outskirts of the crowd that was jostling together in the
street, they realized that the Mexicans were trapped, that if they had
been unwise enough to start something they were outnumbered three to
one. Here and there were Feather-in-the-Wind’s braves, ready for any
emergency.
The bunkhouses seemed deserted. If there were any Mexicans inside they
were doing their best to play dead. The crowd seemed to think that
the laborers were the ones who had started the trouble and they were
shouting, daring the Greasers to come out and start something. But
there was no answer from the inside.
Just as the crowd was growing weary, the roar of a high powered
gasoline engine drowned out the noise they were making. With the
muffler cut out open and the exhaust snapping explosions like the
reports of young cannon, a car dashed down the street and stopped with
a jerk. Out of it hopped Big Boss Whitney.
“What’s the rumpus?” he roared. “What’s broken loose?”
His presence dominated the crowd and for a moment there was comparative
quiet. Then everybody tried to explain at the same time and only
succeeded in confusing the man more. His eye, darting through the
crowd, fell on Bob and the others. “Here, Hazard,” he called, “tell me
quick what’s up!”
In a few words Bob sketched the happenings of the past few hours. When
he finished by saying that the cavalry had arrived on the scene and had
started chasing the Mexicans, the Chief breathed a sigh of relief.
“It’s all right then,” he muttered and stood up to reassure the crowd.
“All over, men. There’ll be no more trouble to-night. Our Mexicans are
not mixed up in this yet and the soldiers have come to see that they
don’t. They’ll be here any minute now!”
This satisfied the excited mob and gradually it thinned out as Whitney
demanded more details from Bob.
“Did you send me that wire to get up here as quickly as I could? It
caught me at Las Cruces just by chance.”
“No,” returned the boy. “I didn’t have time after things started to
break loose.”
“I wonder who did then. But I want to go to the troops. Which way did
they go?” But before Bob could answer, Mr. Whitney saw for the first
time that Jerry was being held prisoner by the Indian.
“But what does this mean?” he exclaimed. “What are you holding onto
King for?”
“He has been the go-between for the cattlemen and the Greasers,” said
Bob bitterly, sick that it was his job to tell of his former chum’s
treachery. “We’ve caught him, that’s all! When we’ve time I’ll tell you
the whole rotten thing.”
“Haven’t you anything to say for yourself?” snapped the man. “Is Bob
right?”
Jerry looked at the chief steadily and was about to reply when a yell
came to their ears.
“They’re coming!”
Before there was time to figure out who it was that was coming, the
hoofbeats and jangling of accouterments foretold the approach of the
troopers. A moment later the soldiers trotted down the street under
the electric lights that had been turned on when the trouble started.
In their midst were a number of sullen looking Mexicans, evidently
prisoners.
Mr. Whitney stepped out and halted the troop by hailing the captain,
who was in the lead. Tom noticed to his surprise that at the officer’s
side was Link O’Day, whom he had met as the foreman of Thaddeus
Holman’s ranch. What his appearance on the scene meant was more than
the boy could imagine.
The officer halted his men and after a brief talk with Mr. Whitney gave
some orders to his lieutenant. The Chief then turned to Bob.
“We’re going to my shack to talk this out. Come along. I want
Feather-in-the-Wind and Jerry too. Hoyt, find Mr. Taylor and ask him to
report to me at once!”
Link O’Day walked with the two men in the lead and all the way to the
house Bob racked his brain to find a reason for this man’s having
ridden into camp with the soldiers and on top of that to be included in
the conference the Chief had arranged.
The porch of the cottage was the spot chosen for the talk. When Taylor
joined the group Mr. Whitney opened the proceedings.
“With your permission, Captain Wendell, I would like to get the whole
sequence of events in order. You have told me that you have captured
the better part of the gang of raiders, so I will ask Bob Hazard to
tell me what led up to your timely intervention. Is that all right?
Hazard was in the midst of explaining the situation when you rode in,
and I’d like to hear the finish of his yarn.”
“Let him shoot!” was the answer.
“All right then, Bob,” encouraged Mr. Whitney. “Start from the
beginning and tell us everything that’s happened.”
So many days had passed during which Bob’s one desire had been to
unload his troubles on his Chief that he was not at all embarrassed
when he found he had to tell his tale before so many witnesses. He
started in and until he reached the episode of Miguel’s attempt to
blow up the coffer dam he spoke steadily and clearly. At this point,
however, when it was necessary to tell of the part he had taken in the
adventure, he began to stammer and hesitate. Feather-in-the-Wind broke
in to help him out and in his short, broken sentences vividly pictured
for the listeners the plucky deed that had been done to save the dam.
When he finished a ripple of admiration passed around the group, and to
cover his embarrassment, Bob hurriedly went on to tell of Jerry’s visit
and the surprise attack planned by Feather-in-the-Wind.
“That’s the story, Mr. Whitney,” he finished. “And as the dam is safe,
everything seems to be all right only, only--” Here the boy’s voice
broke--“the part about Jerry. I--I can’t understand how he could do
it--how--how he could be a traitor to the Service--”
“I can tell you!” the statement rang out from a corner of the porch.
Bob looked around to find that it was Link O’Day who had cried out.
“You can’t understand because Jerry is not a traitor!”
“What?” exclaimed Bob, amazed.
“What?” echoed Mr. Whitney, who had decided as he listened to Bob’s
story that the evidence against Jerry was sufficient to prove his guilt.
“No,” laughed the man. “I’m quite serious. Even in spite of all
appearances the boy is quite innocent of the charge. Am I right,
Captain Wendell?”
“You are!” returned the soldier. “Besides, I think he is very much to
be commended.”
“Please, please explain,” Bob implored. “I want to believe in him.”
“Yes,” Whitney said quickly, “the sooner any stain is removed from a
member of the Service the better. We are not used to traitors!”
“Well, then, it’s just this. Jerry was the first one of all of you to
smell trouble brewing. He had been coming up to the ranch and had heard
the rather good-natured grumbling that passed between all of us about
the damage the dam would do to our particular kind of business. Then
when Harper and Wesley--the men Hazard has told you about--began to
talk seriously to him he decided that it would be best if he did some
‘secret service’ work by seeming to fall in with their plans--”
Here Bob caused a sudden halt in the proceedings. Rushing over to Jerry
he held out his hand.
“Jerry, Jerry, old scout! I’m sorry as I can be. Forgive me for not
having faith in you. I wanted to all the time!”
The other boy’s response was quick and generous.
“I understood, Bob, how you felt. That is, all but once or twice
when--Oh, but what’s the use? Of course I forgive you!” When they had
shaken hands warmly the conference had a chance to proceed. O’Day took
up the narrative where he had left off.
“Jerry got into the confidence of the cowmen principally because they
needed him as a go-between and it was not until after he had all his
plans laid that I got into the game.”
“Link got onto me all right,” put in Jerry. “He started jawing me one
day about playing poker and before he got through I’d told him all
about it. I _hate_ playing cards and the only reason I did it at all
was to make Wesley and Harper believe that they had me thrown and tied.
I’m glad you did get on, though, Link, because I was getting tired of
playing the big game alone.”
“After that,” continued O’Day, “we held councils of war and decided
that it would be best if we could nip the big plot in the bud without
letting you fellows at the dam get wise.”
“What was the scheme the cattlemen had decided upon?” Whitney wanted to
know.
“To blow up as much of the works as possible. Have a raid by border
Mexicans take place simultaneously with a revolt by the laborers.”
“And are all the ranchers in on this?”
“By no means. Comparatively few. Thad Holman never knew a thing about
it. They were mostly dissatisfied cowboys and unsuccessful squatters
who saw profit for themselves in a war with Mexico.”
“I’m mighty glad of that,” said Whitney. “But go on; I won’t interrupt
any more.”
“Well, the signal for the trouble to start was to be the blowing up
of the cofferdam but it was slated to take place _to-morrow_ night
instead of to-night. The bandits have been on this side of the border
for several days, so the speeding up of the plan did not interfere with
_them_. What it did interfere with, however, was the plans Jerry and
I had laid to stop the plot’s being carried out. You, Hazard,” O’Day
smiled and pointed him out, “you were responsible for our troubles.”
“How?” Bob wanted to know.
“By coming up to the ranch and exciting the cowboys’ suspicions. They
made Jerry come with them to overtake you as you went home. If you had
not flared up, probably they would have let you go on home, but as it
was you gave them no choice but to hold you up. Then when you got away
they feared you knew more than was healthy. As they fled they got in
touch with the bandit chief and started the ball rolling a day earlier
than had been planned. Jerry got wind of it from Miguel only late
to-day. There was just a chance that he could ride to Fort Cummings in
time to get Captain Wendell and his troop here. First, however, he sent
that telegram to you, Mr. Whitney.”
“Thanks, Jerry,” Whitney said seriously. Bob happened to look around
and missed Feather-in-the-Wind from the group.
“Captain Wendell already had promised to be on hand for to-morrow
night. It was by his help that we expected to hold the lid on. But to
get back to Jerry: He had desperate little time to get to the Fort and
bring the soldiers back. It was a wonderful ride, but he made it. I
only joined the troop on the trail. Jerry had ridden ahead to stop
Miguel from blowing up the cofferdam.”
“And I was too late,” put in the boy. “Bob had beaten me to it. I was
sure some glad when I found the old wall was safe. It was the thing
I feared most as I rode for the soldiers--that Miguel would give the
signal before I could get back. I sort of had a hunch that it was Bob
who had had a hand in it and I went to his room to tell him I was on
his side. But you wouldn’t let me, Bob,” he finished.
“I know, Jerry, and I’m sorry.”
“Anyway,” Jerry went on, “when you chased me out I beat it for the
spot I’d agreed to meet Captain Wendell and guide him to the Mexicans’
hiding place. That is, after I’d attended to something--”
“And that was--?” suggested Mr. Whitney.
“Oh, I went to the Mexican bunkhouses and told Miguel’s bunch that he’d
sent me to tell ’em to meet him somewheres up the river. I sent ’em
just as far away as I could from the place trouble was likely to happen
without letting ’em get suspicious. They slipped out one at a time
before you doubled the guards, Mr. Taylor,” he finished with a smile.
“Then that was what you meant when you told us that the laborers
wouldn’t be any bother, was it?” asked Bob.
“Yes. All the men that were left were harmless. But as soon as I had
given the word, I was off to meet the captain. I thought he and his
bunch would never show up.”
“But when we did come it was our turn to be disappointed.” Here the
cavalry officer took up the story. “Bob Hazard and his friends had got
ahead of us too.”
“I’m sorry,” began the boy.
“Don’t be for a minute,” said Captain Wendell. “It was an excellent
piece of strategy and quite successful. I’ll admit, though, that it was
startling to hear the old Apache war whoop come so suddenly from the
darkness. Besides that, it forced us to chase our quarry rather than
slip up and surround it. But you couldn’t know that, of course, and as
we captured most of the band no harm was done.”
“But what happened to the rest? Did they get away?”
“Yes, for the most part, as their horses were fresher. While we were
rounding up the stragglers, the others were so far ahead I didn’t think
it worth while pursuing them further. But we’ve got enough to make an
example of. It’s been a good night’s work.”
“It certainly has,” said Mr. Whitney, “and it seems to me that my
thanks are due to everybody. I was away endeavoring to arrange for a
detachment of troops to come here and protect the project from just
what was about to happen. The trouble at Columbus mixed things up so
that they could not give me any definite promise and I thought it best
to stick around until I knew what could be expected. I believed that
nothing could happen up here so quickly--it was my mistake. But you
chaps have made it all right for me. I want to thank you all!”
The group was a little uncomfortable under the direct praise and
welcomed the diversion made by Feather-in-the-Wind’s rejoining them,
bringing with him a newcomer.
It was Miguel Philipe, who during the excitement had been left lying
bound in the bushes where the Indian had dumped him. When he was
brought under the light of the porch, he was a sorry looking specimen.
He had been unable to defend himself from the insects and his face was
puffed and mottled and his eyes almost closed.
“The poor beggar has sure been punished,” said the soldier.
“You bet,” Jerry said quickly. “Don’t you think he’s had enough, Boss
Whitney?”
“Perhaps, but--”
“And I sort of led him on,” interrupted the boy. “I’d like it a heap if
you’d let him go.”
Mr. Whitney was silent a minute as he thought over Jerry’s plea for the
captive.
“If I could be sure he wouldn’t do any more harm--”
“He no more make trouble,” put in the Indian gravely. “He scared too
much. I take him border. He no come back.”
“I think he is right,” agreed Captain Wendell. “Once he’s in Mexico it
will be a long time before he ever has nerve enough to slip back.”
“All right then, Jerry,” was Mr. Whitney’s decision. “I’ll leave it to
you and Feather-in-the-Wind to do with him as you like.”