AT THE SAN PAZ HACIENDA.
The day had passed and night had come. Buffalo Bill and the Yankee were
still cooped up in their hiding place.
Throughout the long hours of the afternoon the men who had them hemmed
in had called to them from time to time, demanding their surrender.
Always they had given the same answer, or its substance.
Several times, in reply to the demands of his friends, and coerced by
the scout’s threats, Nuncio had spoken. Always he had begged his friends
not to fire again, and they had so far obeyed. But Nuncio was past
speaking now, though as yet the watchers below did not know it; his
death was but a matter of a short time.
Buffalo Bill had questioned him about the San Paz Hacienda, but the
fellow knew nothing, or, at least, claimed that he did not. And he
claimed, likewise, that he knew nothing of the present whereabouts of
Leon Ruiz. The scout was not sure, however, but the rascal lied on these
points. His manner in giving answers was not satisfactory. But now he
was not able to speak or to understand.
“We’ve got to get out of this, Spalding,” said the scout, when darkness
had come. “We can climb the cliff behind us. We can reach it by
burrowing under those bushes off at the right.”
“They’ll shoot us while we’re doin’ it!”
“We must take the risk. You saw the path which I think we’d better try.
It’s steep, but we can do it.”
The scout was his old courageous self again. In spite of the excitement
of the afternoon, the rest in that little notch had restored his
strength.
“I dew hate to lose them hosses!” said Spalding, with genuine regret.
“That will be the second pair of hosses we’ve had to give up this day.
And hosses like them aire wuth two hundred apiece in any hoss market. I
call that a burnin’ shame. And them bridles and saddles is wuth a heap,
tew.”
“There’s no help for it.”
“What will we do with this pore critter?”
“His friends will find him, though perhaps he will be dead when they do.
But we have the satisfaction of knowing it was not our lead that brought
about his end.”
Buffalo Bill crawled over to the bushes he had indicated, and began to
creep through them in the direction of the cliff he had marked in the
afternoon. The Yankee came slowly after him.
Their departure from the notch was not discovered at once by the
Mexicans below. But when they began to climb the cliff, which was steep
and very difficult in the darkness, the Yankee slipped and came near
falling. He was supported by the scout until he could regain his
footing. The noise reached the ears of the watchers, who began to call
and shout. Then a sputter of revolvers came from them, and the bullets
raked and scraped over the face of the cliff.
“Come on!” Buffalo Bill whispered. “Don’t shoot back. They don’t know
just where we are, and they can’t see us.”
“They’re shootin’ paowerful straight, though,” the Yankee grumbled. “One
of their dummed bullets cut through my hat, and I’ll bet it’s ruined.
Cost me three dollars in Los Angeles, that hat did. I don’t like tew
have it cut up in that way. Hats cost money, by gum!”
“Keep still, and now come right after me. Hold tight. I’ll help you now
and then, at the worst places.”
They climbed on.
The revolvers were still popping, and around and about them the bullets
whistled and scraped. But that shot through the Yankee’s hat was as near
as any of them came to the fugitives.
When they were still higher on the cliff they heard the Mexicans calling
to Nuncio.
“They’ll go up and look fer him, I reckon, and then they’ll foller us!”
said the Yankee.
“Likely. But the darkness is all in our favor, remember.”
“I’m hungrier’n all git aout!” the Yankee grumbled, when they gained the
top of the cliff. “What’s yer plans naow?”
“We start now for San Paz Hacienda.”
They had not only reached the top of the cliff, but the rocky land lay
now rather level before them. Even in the darkness so keen was the
vision of Buffalo Bill that he had no trouble in going forward,
directing the Yankee now and then by a word. Soon they were almost
beyond hearing of the occasional pistol shots which sounded in the
ravine.
The scout held steadily on his way over the uneven ground. This was a
sort of plateau, lying on the top of one of the lower hills of the
Superstition Range, and it took hours to cross it. When at last they
gained its farther side, they found that the land dropped away into what
seemed a dark ravine.
Having descended into this, the scout found what he believed to be a
game trail, leading somewhat in the direction he wished now to go; and
this they followed.
Throughout the night they continued their wearing travel, but they went
into camp at the breaking of day, hiding again under cover of bushes.
Here Buffalo Bill killed a rabbit, bowling this one over with a stone,
and he ventured to build a fire with which to cook it. No enemies were
in sight, and it seemed safe to believe that the Mexicans who had so
harassed them had been distanced during the night.
After a rest of two or three hours they pushed or again. It was
midafternoon when they came in sight of the San Paz Hacienda, perched on
the top of its hill, with mountains surrounding it.
“Naow, what aire we goin’ tew do?” asked the Yankee, dropping down to
rest, for he confessed that he was pretty well tired out. “We don’t know
what’s up there, except that I see some men that look tew me tew be
guards.”
“They are guards,” said the scout, “and that indicates something.”
“Indercates that the place is guarded, I reckon.”
“Yes, and if it’s guarded, there is a reason. Those men up there could
fear no foes unless they were holding some one there and expected a
pursuit. There are no Indians in this section, and I think no outlaws,
except the rascals themselves.”
The Yankee stared up from his hiding place at the adobe structure on the
hill. It resembled a Spanish castle in its outward appearance, though
the walls were of adobe, or sun-dried bricks, instead of stone.
“A perfect Gibraltar, in some respects,” said the scout, when he had
studied the house and the hill with his field glasses. “Unless one
climbs those sheer walls on this side, which seem to hang above a sort
of moat, there’s no way to get up there, save by the path which those
sentries are closely watching.”
“Funny little towers on it!” said the Yankee.
Buffalo Bill looked at the towers—there was one on each of the four
corners—and he showed a sudden increase of interest. His field glasses
had revealed a handkerchief fluttering from the barred window of the
tower right over the wall above the moat. He studied it closely. His
strong glasses even brought into view the bars at that window.
“The prisoner is there!” he said. “See! It may be Leon Ruiz, and it may
be some one else.” He gave the glasses to the Yankee. “Turn them on that
tower above the white wall. You will see a handkerchief hanging from the
bars of the window. Another thing you will observe is, that the window
cannot be seen from the other side of the house; nor do I think it would
be visible to any one standing directly below it. Off here it is in
plain view. Does that suggest anything?”
“It might su’gest that whoever is in there may be tryin’ to signal
abaout it.”
“It suggests to me that whoever is in that tower, knowing the signal
cannot be seen readily from any point of the building nor from the
ground below that wall, keeps that handkerchief flying from that window
in the hope that it may be seen by some one in this direction; one would
have to be in this direction to see it.”
“Yes, that’s so.”
“It’s only a guess that the prisoners are held there, but it’s so good a
guess that I’m going to find out to-night.”
“Haow?”
“By climbing that sheer wall to the window.”
“I want tew know! ’Twon’t be easy tew do.”
“I shall try it. I’ve got to know who is in that tower. It may be Leon
Ruiz. But I believe I have found the prison of Prince Mogador.”
“Gosh all Friday! I’m wishin’ we could find the prison of my niece! That
is, ef she’s held anywhere, and ain’t dead. By gum! that might be her
hankcher shakin’ there! Who knows that it ain’t?”
“No one knows. That’s what we must find out.”
“Yit I don’t see what any one would want to capter her fur, and hold her
that way, anyhaow. She ain’t got no money to pay a ransom with, and I
ain’t. I’ve spent more naow in this search than I kin afford tew. It’d
be jes’ my luck tew find her in sech a place and have to come daown with
a lot of hard cash tew git her aout. She’s cost me a mint o’ money
already, by gum! I wonder ef she kin be in there?”
His voice and his hands trembled.
It was plain that no matter what the cost, nor how near the payment
might come to breaking his old heart, he would pay whatever was
demanded, if a demand was made, and the money could be raised by him. He
might grumble, but he would not hesitate.
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