JACK’S CHANCE.
“You mean that there is a chance of our being attacked?”
Jack put the question in rather an anxious tone. But for some reason
Baldy only grunted in reply.
“I’m going back to camp to git you a gun,” he said; “you stay right
here till I get back.”
“Very well, Mr. Baldy,” rejoined the boy, in as conciliatory a tone as
possible.
“Don’t mister me. I ain’t got no handle to my name and don’t never
expect to have,” grunted Baldy, as he swung his pony and rode off.
As Jack listened to the retreating hoof beats he felt strangely lonely.
It was very dark down in the cañon, and the steely blue stars seemed
very far away. Only the rushing of the water of the river disturbed
the boy’s thoughts while he awaited Baldy’s return.
“He’s not very lively company,” he admitted to himself, “but it’s
better than being all alone. Wish Ralph or Walt had been ordered to
share my watch.”
But the next moment he was scolding himself.
“For shame, Jack Merrill,” he said, “here’s the first bit of duty
you’ve been put to, and here you are complaining already. It’s got to
stop right here and now, and—hello, what was that?”
The boy broke off short, as through the darkness of the cañon he caught
an odd sound from the river.
“What can that sound be?” he said to himself. “It seems familiar, too.
Where have I heard something like it before?”
Then all of a sudden it dawned upon him what the odd noise was.
It was the splash of oars. But what could a boat be doing on the river
at that time of night, and in such a place? Jack was asking himself
these questions when he became aware of some words being spoken at a
short distance from him. He recognized the language instantly. The men
who were conversing were talking in Spanish, of which tongue Jack had a
fair working knowledge, as we know.
He was in the darker shadow of the cañon wall and therefore, of course,
quite invisible to whoever was on the river, and who had apparently
come to a stop almost opposite to his station. He quickly slipped from
his pony, and taking advantage of the brush that grew almost to the
water’s edge, he crawled along on his stomach in the direction of the
unseen men.
At last he gained a position where he could hear them quite distinctly,
and could even see their figures bulking up blackly in the general
gloom. But what they were doing he could not imagine, and when he
finally did find out he received the surprise of his life.
Listening to their talk, Jack heard them speaking of Rosario, the
leader of the insurgents in that quarter of the Mexican Republic, and
apparently they were discussing some mission on which they had been
dispatched.
He heard the Rangers mentioned, and then came some information that was
new to him. The Federal troops of Mexico were hot on the heels of the
insurgent army, and the rebels were planning to bring the coming battle
on to American soil if possible, in order to force the interference of
Uncle Sam.
Evidently the men knew of the presence of the Rangers in the locality,
and, by listening, Jack soon learned that they were there acting as
spies in order to find out how strongly the Border was guarded at that
point. Finally they strode off cautiously into the darkness, apparently
with the object of reconnoitering the vicinity.
This was Jack’s chance. Without a moment’s hesitation he made his way
to the river bank and found that a large raft had been moored there. It
was evidently on this that the spies had made their way down the stream
from some point above. The raft was formed roughly of tree trunks, but
appeared to be of stout construction. Some long oars for navigating it
lay on the logs; but Jack, in his hasty search, could not see anything
on board that might be of interest to Captain Atkinson.
He had just completed his examination and was preparing to go back on
shore when something happened that changed his plans. As if by magic
the figures of the men who had left the raft reappeared at the water’s
edge.
At the same instant that Jack spied them the men became aware of the
intruder on their raft. They did not dare to fire the weapons they
carried, owing to the nearness of the Rangers; otherwise they would
undoubtedly have done so. Instead, they made a simultaneous leap at
Jack, the leader aiming a savage blow at him.
The boy dodged the man’s swing, springing backward on the raft. The
contrivance had not been securely fastened to the bank. In fact, it
had merely been tied carelessly up at the water’s edge. Jack’s sudden
spring gave the raft a violent jolt. The current caught it and whirled
it round as the strain came upon one side of it.
Before either Jack or the Mexicans exactly realized what had occurred,
the raft was swept out into midstream, the current hurrying it along
swiftly.
But Jack was not alone on the swaying, pitching craft. The Mexican who
had aimed the blow at him had had one foot on the raft when Jack’s
backward spring caused it to drift from the bank. By a desperate effort
he had managed to maintain a foothold, and now he was crouching back
on his haunches like a wild–cat about to spring, while in his hands
gleamed a wicked looking knife.
Jack had just time to see this when the fellow, hissing out a torrent
of Spanish oaths, sprang at him. Jack dodged the knife blow, and before
the Mexican could recover his equilibrium the boy’s fist had collided
with the lower part of the Mexican’s jaw.
The blow was a heavy one, and had landed fair and square. With a grunt
of pain and rage the fellow reeled backward, almost pitching off the
raft. But in a jiffy he recovered from his shock and rushed at Jack,
snarling like a wild beast.
The boy realized that he was in for a fight for life, and in that
moment he bitterly regretted the curiosity that had caused him to board
the raft, although he had done it with the idea of performing a service
for the Rangers. Now, however, he found himself facing a desperate
situation.
Unarmed, and alone, he was on a drifting raft with an armed and
singularly ferocious foe.
“Yankee pig!” snarled out the Mexican, as he flung himself at the boy.
Jack’s blood boiled at the insult. It acted as a brace to his sinking
heart. As the man lunged at him the boy’s hand struck up the arm that
held the knife and the weapon went spinning into the night. But the
Mexican, a large man of uncommon strength and activity, did not cease
his attack. He rushed at Jack as if to annihilate him.
This was just what Jack wanted. The angrier the Mexican was the worse
he would fight, as Jack knew. He met the onrush with coolness, and
succeeded in planting two good blows on the man’s body. But muscular as
Jack was the blows appeared to have little effect on the Mexican. He
tore in more savagely than ever.
Without his knife the Mexican was not much of a fighter. He knew
nothing of the art of boxing, and Jack’s “gym” training stood him in
good stead. At last, in one of the Mexican’s frantic rushes, Jack’s
fist met the point of his chin with deadly effect. With a wild swinging
of his arms the fellow reeled backward.
He would have fallen from the raft into the current had not Jack leaped
forward and saved him. But the Mexican was a formidable foe no longer.
Jack’s blow had effectually stunned him for a time, and as the boy
saved him from pitching overboard he sank in a heap on the floor of the
raft.
In the first opportunity he had had for observation of his situation
since the raft had got loose, Jack looked about him. Then, for the
first time, he realized that the rough craft was proceeding at an
extremely swift rate. It was spinning round dizzily, too, as though
caught in some sort of whirlpool.
Jack was still wondering how far they had come and what was to be
the outcome of this odd adventure, when something happened that
effectually put all other thoughts out of his head.
The air became filled with a roaring sound, and spray began to
dash upon the floor of the raft. With a sharp thrill of alarm Jack
recognized that the roaring sound was the voice of a waterfall, and
that the raft was being swept toward it at lightning speed. He seized
up one of the oars and attempted to head the raft for the shore. But
the oar might have been a straw for all the effect it had against that
rapid current.
All at once it snapped, almost hurling Jack overboard. The next instant
raft, boy and unconscious man were swept into a vortex of waters.
Jack felt himself falling through space. Simultaneously there came a
crashing blow on his head. A million constellations seemed to swim
before his eyes, and then, with a blinding flash of fire, his senses
left him.
[Illustration: THE NEXT INSTANT RAFT, BOY AND UNCONSCIOUS MAN WERE
SWEPT INTO A VORTEX OF WATERS.]