A RIDE FOR LIFE.
The next moment the door was flung open, but not before Nat had jumped
to his feet. He did not want his enemies, least of all Dayton, to find
him crouching in a despondent attitude. To have brought despair to
Nat's heart was the one thing above all others, the lad realized, which
would delight Ed. Dayton highly.
Dayton was accompanied by Manuello and Al. Jeffries. The latter seemed
highly amused at the turn things had taken.
"Well! well! well! What have we here!" he cried ironically, tugging
his long black mustaches as the light from the passage streamed in
upon Nat, "a young automobiling rooster who's about to get a lesson in
manners and minding his own business. Oh say, Ed., this is luck. Here
is where you get even for the other day."
"Oh, dry up," admonished Dayton sullenly, "I know my own business best."
He advanced toward Nat with a sinister smile on his pale face. Dayton
had, as Manuello had informed Colonel Morello, been off hunting. His
clothes were dust covered, from the tip of his riding boots--high
heeled and jingle spurred in the Mexican fashion--to the rim of his
broad sombrero. He had evidently lost no time in proceeding to the cell
as soon as he learned that Nat was a captive.
"Looks as if we had you bottled up at last, my elusive young friend,"
he grated out, "this is the time that you stay where we want you."
"What are you going to do, Dayton?" asked Nat, his face pale but
resolute, though his heart was beating wildly. Knowing the man before
him as he did, he had no reason to expect any compassion, nor did he
get any.
"You'll see directly," rejoined Dayton, "come with me. I'm going to let
the colonel boss this thing."
Nat didn't say a word. In fact, there was not anything to be said.
Dayton, as well as Manuello and Al. Jeffries, was armed, and all had
their weapons ready for instant action. It would have been worse than
madness to attempt any resistance right then.
With Dayton ahead of him and Manuello and Jeffries behind, Nat stepped
out of the cell and into the dimly lit passage. Never had daylight
looked sweeter or more desirable to him than it did now, showing in a
bright, oblong patch at the end of the passage.
But Nat, much as he longed to make a dash for it then and there, saw no
opportunity to do so and in silence the little procession passed along
the passageway and entered the colonel's room. Colonel Morello looked
up as they entered, but did not seem much surprised. Doubtless he had
had a chat with Dayton on the latter's return from hunting and was
aware that Nat would be ushered before him.
"Here he is, colonel," began Dayton advancing to the table, while
Manuello, ever on the outlook for a cigarette, also stepped a pace to
the front, to help himself from a package of tobacco and some rice
papers that lay upon the table. This left only Al. Jeffries standing in
the door-way.
Swift as the snap of an instantaneous camera shutter Nat's mind was
made up. Crouching low, as he was used to do in football tactics, he
made a rush at Al. Jeffries, striking him between the legs like a
miniature thunderbolt. As he made his dash he uttered an ear-splitting
screech:--
"Yee-ow!"
He shrewdly calculated that the sudden cry would further demoralize the
astonished outlaws. Jeffries was literally carried off his feet by the
unexpected rush. He was forcibly lifted as Nat dashed beneath him and
then he fell in a heap, his head striking a rock as he did so, knocking
him senseless.
Like an arrow from a bow Nat sped straight for the end of the passage
through which he had spied, a minute before, two horses standing still
saddled and bridled. They were the steeds upon which Dayton and
Jeffries had just ridden in. Such had been Dayton's haste to taunt Nat,
however, that he and his companion deferred putting up their ponies
till later. Nat, on his journey down the passage, had spied the animals
and his alert mind had instantly worked out a plan of escape; as
desperate a one, as we shall see, as could well be imagined.
As Al. toppled over in a heap, another outlaw, who was just entering
the passage, opposed himself to Nat. He shared the black-mustached
one's fate, only he came down a little harder. Neither he nor Al. moved
for some time in fact. In the meantime, Morello, Dayton and Manuello,
dashing pellmell after the fleeing lad, stumbled unawares over the
prostrate Al., and all came down in a swearing, fighting heap.
This gave Nat the few seconds he needed. In two flying leaps he was
down the steps and had flung himself into the saddle of one of the
horses, before the stableman knew what was happening. When the latter
finally woke up and heard the bandits' yells and shouts coming from the
passage-way, it was too late. With a rattle of hoofs, and in a cloud
of dust, Nat was off. Off along the trail to freedom!
"Yee-ow!"
The boy yelled as he banged his heels into the pony's sides and the
spirited little animal leaped forward.
Bang!
Nat's sombrero was lifted from his head and he could feel the bullets
fairly fan his hair as he rode on.
"Stop him! Stop him!" came cries from behind. And then a sudden order:--
"Let go the man-trap!"
If Nat had realized what this meant he would have been tempted to give
up his dash for freedom then and there. But he had hardly given a
thought to the big suspended platform of pine trunks and rocks while
on his way to the outlaws' fort, nor even if he had noticed it more
minutely, would he have guessed its purpose.
But as the order to release the crushing weight and send it crashing
down upon the trail was roared out by the colonel, a clatter of hoofs
came close behind. It was Dayton, who had hastily thrown himself
upon the other horse and was now close upon Nat. Drawing a revolver
he fired, but the bullet whistled harmlessly by Nat's head. At the
terrific pace they were making an accurate shot was, fortunately for
our hero, impossible.
And now Nat was in the very shadow of the great platform.
At that instant he heard a sudden creaking overhead, and looked up just
in time to realize that the ponderous mass was sagging. In one flash
of insight he realized the meaning of this. The great mass had been
released and was about to descend.
Crack!
"Ye-oo-ow!"
The heavy quirt, which Nat had found fastened to the saddle horn, was
laid over the startled pony's flanks. It gave an enraged squeal and
flung itself forward like a jack-rabbit.
At the same instant came a shout from behind.
"Stop, Dayton. Stop!--The man-trap!"
[Illustration: Nat, as the pony leaped forward, instinctively bent low
in the saddle.]
Nat, as the pony leaped forward, instinctively bent low in the saddle.
As they flashed forward a mighty roar sounded in his ears. Behind him,
with a sound like the sudden release of an avalanche, the man-trap had
fallen. It had been sprung by the colonel's own hand.
So close to Nat did the immense weight crash down that it grazed his
pony's flanks, but--Nat was safe.
Behind him, he heard a shrill scream of pain and realized that Dayton
had not been so fortunate.
"Has he been killed?" thought Nat as his pony, terrified beyond all
control by the uproar behind it, tore up the trail in a series of long
bounds.
"Safe!" thought the lad as he dashed onward. But in this he was wrong.
Nat was far from being safe yet.
Even as he murmured the word to himself there came a chorus of shouts
from behind. Turning in his saddle, the boy could see pursuing him
six or seven men, mounted on wiry ponies, racing toward the wreckage of
the ponderous man-trap. With quirt and spur they urged their frightened
animals over the obstruction. From the midst of the débris Nat could
see Dayton crawling. The man was evidently hurt, but the others paid no
attention to him.
"A thousand dollars to the one who brings that boy down!"
The cry came in the voice of Col. Morello.
Nat laid his quirt on furiously. But the pony he bestrode had been used
for hunting over the rugged mountains most of that day and soon it
began to flag.
"They're gaining on me," gasped Nat, glancing behind.
At the same instant half a dozen bullets rattled on the rocks about
him, or went singing by his ears. As the fusillade pelted around him,
Nat saw, not more than a hundred yards ahead, the end of the trail. The
point, that is, where it lost itself in the wilderness of chaparral
and piñon trees, among which he had met the adventure which ended in
his capture. If he could only gain that shelter, he would be safe. But
on his tired, fagged pony, already almost collapsing beneath him, could
he do it?