Captain Skinner and his miners were well mounted, and they were tough,
seasoned horsemen. They were in a great hurry, too, for their minds were
full of dreams of the good times they meant to have.
They made an astonishingly long day's march, and did not meet with the
slightest sign of danger. That night they slept soundly on their
blankets in the open air, and perhaps some of them dreamed that in a few
nights more they would have roofs over their heads, and wake up in the
morning to find hot coffee on the breakfast table. No bell rang for
them, however, when breakfast-time came; but when they had nearly
completed their simple meal of broiled beef and cold water, their ears
were saluted by a very different sound.
"Horses! Rifles! Mount! Boys," shouted the little Captain, "that's a
cavalry bugle."
Cavalry!
They sprang for their arms, and mounted in hot haste. But before the
last man was in the saddle, the music of that bugle was close upon them.
"No use to fight, boys, even if they were enemies. There's more'n three
hundred of 'em; Regulars, too. What on earth brings 'em away up here?
Can't be there's any revolution going on?"
"It isn't too late for us to run, Cap," suggested Bill.
"Yes, it is. They'd catch us in no time. Besides, we haven't done
anything to run for."
"Not to them, we haven't."
In a few minutes more it was too late, if it had not been just then, for
the gleaming lances of a full company of the Mexicans began to shine
above the grass and bushes behind the miners.
"Trapped, boys. I wonder what they're going to do?"
The Mexican commander was nearly ready to tell them. His really
splendid-looking horsemen closed steadily in upon the silent squad of
wild-looking desperadoes, and he himself rode forward toward them,
accompanied by two officers in brilliant uniforms.
Captain Skinner rode out as if to meet him, but was greeted by an
imperative, loud-voiced, "Halt! Dismount."
The fire flashed from the eyes of the little Captain.
[Illustration: "DISMOUNT BEHIND YOUR HOSSES, AND TAKE AIM ACROSS THE
SADDLE."]
"Close up, boys. Dismount behind your hosses, and take aim across the
saddle."
He was obeyed like clock-work, and it was the Colonel's turn to "halt,"
for no less than three of those deadly dark tubes were pointing straight
at him, and he saw with what sort of men he was dealing. Had they been
six dozen instead of only less than two, they would not have hesitated a
second about charging in upon his gay lancers, and would probably have
scattered them right and left.
"What are you doing here?" he demanded of Captain Skinner.
"Travelling."
"Where are you going?"
"Going to try and mind our own business."
"Where did you come from?"
"Across the border. Driven out of the mines by Apaches. Didn't expect to
find Mexican regular cavalry worse than the red-skins."
"We will see about that, señor. You are our prisoners."
"All right, so long as none of you come too near. It won't be healthy
for any of you to try."
"No harm is intended you, señor. We are sent to guard this frontier
against the Apaches, and to put down a small pronunciamento."
Captain Skinner knew what that meant. There had been some sort of a
little revolution in that part of Mexico, and he and his men were
suspected of having crossed the border to take part in it.
"All right, Colonel. All we want is to march right along. We can pay our
own way."
That was the first blunder the wily Captain had made.
A half-scornful smile shot across the dark face of the Colonel, as he
looked at those ragged men, and wondered how much they would be likely
to pay for anything.
A young officer at his side was more sagacious, and suggested: "I beg a
thousand pardons, Colonel, but they are miners."
"Ah! They may have been successful."
The expression of his face underwent a rapid change, and there was
nothing scornful in it when he remarked to Captain Skinner that the
price of a written "safe-conduct" for him and his men would be a hundred
dollars each.
"All right, Señor Colonel," said the Captain. "We will pay you in gold
as soon as it's written."
One of the young officers at once dismounted and produced a supply of
writing materials. The "safe-conduct" was a curious document, and
nothing exactly like it could have been had or bought of any cavalry
officer in the United States. It was written in Spanish, of course, and
it appeared to vouch for the peaceable and honest character and
intentions of the entire company of miners.
The latter stood sternly behind their horses, in a dangerous-looking
circle, while the bargain was making, and the Captain himself had coin
enough to pay for them all, without calling for contributions.
The Colonel was very polite now, and gave very accurate advice and
instructions as to the route the miners would do well to follow.
Captain Skinner's second blunder was that he determined to go by the
road laid out for him by the Colonel.
Perhaps he might not have done so if he had read one other piece of
paper that the young officer wrote for his Colonel to sign; or if he had
seen it handed to a lancer, who rode away with it at full speed along
the precise path the Colonel was describing.
It was addressed, with many titles and formalities, to "General
Vincente Garcia," and it was delivered by the lancer-postman within
three hours.
Captain Skinner and his men knew nothing about that, and when noon came
they found a capital camping place precisely as it had been described to
them.
"Cap, do you hear that? If it ain't another bugle, you can shoot me."
More than one was heard within the next half-hour, and three consecutive
squadrons of lancers rode within sight.
As soon as they saw the miners a halt was ordered and a consultation
held. In a few moments a couple of officers approached.
It was their duty, they said, with many apologies. General Garcia
desired to know who were his neighbors, and so forth.
The Colonel's "safe-conduct" was shown them, and they actually touched
their hats when they read it.
It was entirely satisfactory. The General would be glad to sign the
safe-conduct himself, as the officer in supreme command of the
district.
That was precisely what the Captain thought he wanted, and he consented
at once. The Mexicans were as good as their word, and the miners were
astonished at the cordial hospitality of their welcome in the cavalry
camp. Every "mess" came forward to claim a guest, and they were speedily
distributed in a way which left no two of them together.
Captain Skinner found General Garcia as polite as any of the others. Not
a word would he speak about business until after dinner, and so the
Captain did not know until then how great a mistake he had made in
permitting his men to be scattered.
"You will permit us to go on with our journey, will you not, General?"
said he at last, over the coffee.
"Certainly. Without doubt. We shall not detain you an hour. But the
señor is a caballero of experience and knowledge; he will understand
that I can not permit so strong a body of foreigners to march through my
district armed."
"Armed? We always go armed."
"At home. Of course. You have your own laws and customs. I must enforce
those of Mexico, and this district is under martial law."
So smiling and so polite was the General that Captain Skinner could
almost believe he was sorry to be compelled to enforce that law. He
tried, therefore, to argue the point, and was still trying, when one of
his men came rushing up, knocking over a Mexican as he came, and
shouting: "Cap, they've took every weapon I had. Did it while I was
eatin'. And they won't give them up."
"Will Señor Skinner do me the favor to tell his friend that this is by
my orders?"
The General smiled as he said it.
It was another half-hour before the different "messes" in all parts of
the camp brought up to "head-quarters" each its angry and disarmed
guest.
"It's no use, boys," said Captain Skinner to his crest-fallen band.
"It's martial law, and we may as well submit. We'd best mount and ride
now."
Again General Garcia felt called upon to smile and be very polite. His
command was greatly in need of horses. Those of the American caballeros
were just suited to cavalry use. He had given orders to supply their
places with ponies good enough for ordinary travel.
"Oh, if we only had our rifles, Cap!" exclaimed Bill. "Anyhow, we'll get
our saddles back."
More than one bearded face grew a little pale at the thought of those
saddles.
The General's own chief of staff had attended to their transfer from the
backs of the splendid American horses to those of the wretched little
Mexican ponies, and he had noticed how heavy they all were. It was his
duty, therefore, to search them, and not a saddle among them all was now
any heavier than a saddle of that size ought to be.
"The ponies," remarked the polite Mexican, "are not strong enough to
carry all that gold bullion as well as those heavy Gringo miners."
It was a sad dinner party for Captain Skinner and his miners. It had
been planned for them by their friend the Colonel of lancers, and
General Garcia had carried it out to perfection. He even gave them a
good supply of coffee and other matters when they departed, and added,
politely: "My dear Captain, I have not been so unkind as to search you.
You will no doubt have that happiness also in due time."
"Not a doubt of it," growled the Captain, "now we're unarmed."
And it turned out as he feared, for not an ounce of stolen gold was to
be found in the pockets of that ragged band within ten days of their
"first good dinner."
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
[Illustration: "DON'T WANT TO BE WASHED."]