On the Trail
The boys jumped to their feet, wild with excitement, and even Mr. Denby
was shaken out of his usual calm.
“Muggs Murray!” cried Phil.
“Good old Steve,” exclaimed Dick jubilantly. “Is it possible that he can
give us a tip on the scoundrel?”
“Looks like it,” said Tom. “Let’s get busy on the sending.”
They switched off the receiver and Phil sent out his message.
“We got you, Steve,” he radioed. “I’m going to repeat this at minute
intervals for the next five minutes. Then I’ll switch off and listen for
your answer. For the love of Pete, old boy, keep at it if it takes all
night. This means more to us than you know.”
Five times he repeated the message, and then they turned on the receiver
and sat breathlessly awaiting a possible answer.
It was not long in coming, and this time static was almost eliminated.
“I’m here with bells on, Phil,” said the voice, “and ready to pour into
your shell-like ears the sad story of my life.”
“Sounds like Steve,” chuckled Dick. “Can’t you see the old
freckled-faced, red-haired sinner sitting at the sending set with a grin
spreading from ear to ear?”
“Now listen, Phil, and the rest of you yaps, for I suppose Dick and Tom
are with you as usual,” the voice went on. “I’ve got something to tell
you about that fellow Muggs Murray that you’ve been broadcasting about,
and who seems to have stirred up quite a bit of excitement in your young
mind. At least, I think I have, if he’s the same fellow I had a little
mixup with lately. I didn’t know a thing about this robbery until I
caught your broadcast tonight. Down in this neck of the woods we don’t
see much but the local papers, and they didn’t carry the story. Too far
off, I suppose. What news we get is mostly about the ructions the
Mexicans are stirring up, and take it from me that’s plenty. Those
fellows are sure keeping our hands full.
“Now I tell you what let’s do. You go ahead and tell me the full story
of the robbery. What you sent out tonight was only an outline, and I’m
rather hazy about the details. Be sure to give me the last bit you know
about the man’s appearance. I’ve had a pretty good slant at the fellow I
have in mind, and I’ll see if the description tallies. I’m going to stop
now and listen to your dulcet voice and then I’ll horn in again.”
The voice stopped, much to the chagrin of the listeners, who were keyed
up to a high pitch of impatience.
“Hurry, Phil, and give him the dope,” urged Dick. “I’m just crazy to get
him started again.”
“The old rascal is just keeping us on the anxious seat on purpose,”
grumbled Tom. “He knows he has a good story and he wants to get our goat
by keeping us waiting.”
Phil needed no urging and he was soon giving the details for which Steve
had asked. He went into all the particulars he remembered about the
bandit leader’s height, dress and appearance, dwelling particularly on
the scar. His companions put in a reminder here and there; and by the
time he had finished the description was as complete as anyone could
want.
“That gives him an ear-full,” remarked Tom. “Now if he’ll only get a
hustle on and tell us what he knows.”
“Perhaps it won’t amount to anything after all,” said Dick
pessimistically. “There may be hundreds of men with scars just like
Muggs Murray.”
“To be sure that wouldn’t in itself prove anything,” agreed Phil, “but
there may be other things to corroborate it. At any rate give the old
boy a chance to tell his story before you begin glooming.”
A short time elapsed, although it seemed to the boys like ages, and then
Steve’s voice again made itself heard.
“Good stuff,” it said. “’Pon my word, Phil, you ought to be a lawyer. Of
course, you left out a good deal I’d have been glad to know about that
airplane stunt of yours and Dick’s, but I put that down to your natural
modesty. Glad you jugged two of the robbers anyway. Now ‘listen my
children and you shall hear’ not ‘of the midnight ride of Paul Revere’
but of something that concerned yours truly a good deal more.
“Two days ago there was an attempt to hold up this station. We’re
accustomed to rough stuff of that kind down here, and we usually try to
be ready for it. At the time there was only Captain Bradley and myself
in the place. Bradley, by the way, is the captain of the troop of Texas
Rangers that I’m connected with, and believe me he’s some man. You’d
like him if you came to know him. The pay chest of the troop was in my
cabin, and though we try to keep that sort of thing quiet somehow or
other it must have got abroad. We were going over some papers together,
when suddenly a shot came through the window and took off the captain’s
hat. Naturally, that peeved him somewhat, he not being a lamb by nature,
and he reached for his gun, while at the same time I grabbed mine. The
door was locked, but on looking through one of the peepholes with which
the place is provided, we saw half a dozen fellows coming full tilt for
the cabin while at the same time a volley of bullets whistled their way
into the logs. Our guns barked back and one of the fellows went down. We
kept our revolvers going, and I guess the gang thought that there were a
good many more of us in the cabin than they had counted on, for after
doing a little more shooting they picked up their pal and beat it back
out of range.
“There they stopped and held a pow-wow. We reloaded and then I got out
my glasses and took a good squint at the band. The fellow who was
evidently the leader was the dead image of the man you described. He had
a scar that reached almost from his mouth to his ear on his right cheek
and tallied with your man in all the other respects you mention. He
wasn’t a greaser either. Just the tough gunman type you see in the slums
of any big city. I studied him hard and know I would recognize him
instantly again if I should ever meet him.
“They palavered a while and then concluded that they had had enough of
our game and called it off. They rode off toward the Mexican border,
that no man’s land that is as full of tough characters as a dog is full
of fleas. Some time later a bunch of our boys who had heard the shooting
came hurrying up, and the captain put himself at their head and went in
pursuit. But the fracas happened just at the edge of dusk, and in the
darkness the fellows got away. Probably crossed the Rio Grande.
“Now, that’s my little spiel and you can take it for what it is worth.
It’s the same kind of a man as robbed the Castleton bank and he’s
playing the same kind of a game. Of course, Laguna is a long way off
from Castleton, but he’s had plenty of time to get here, and as a matter
of fact, he’d naturally put a big stretch of country between himself and
your town. If I were you I’d give the tip to the detectives who are
looking for him and let them come down and get him if he proves to be
the man they’re after. Or better still, come down and get him
yourselves. I’m not kidding. Come down and get him yourselves. Mull this
over in what you call your brains and call me again in five minutes.”
The voice ceased, and the listeners looked at each other with a new
thought stirring in their minds.
“What do you think of it?” Phil asked of Mr. Denby.
“If you are referring to the clue,” answered the professor, “I think
it’s a good one. Certainly it is one that you can’t afford to disregard.
Detectives have traveled across a continent on much less than that. Of
course, he may not prove to be the man, but there’s at least a good
chance that he is. Nothing venture, nothing have.
“As to what he says about you boys going down there yourselves and
trying to round the man up,” he continued, “that of course, is a matter
on which I wouldn’t venture an opinion. Your families,” he smiled, “may
have decided views on that point.”
“I suppose they might,” agreed Phil somewhat dismally. “Still they let
us go before in that matter of running down the counterfeiters, which
was quite as dangerous as this if not more so. And you’ll notice that we
came through that all right.”
“Yes,” agreed the professor, “but you have to admit that you had some
mighty close shaves when there was only a slender margin between you and
death. Your folks may think that there’s such a thing as tempting Fate,
you know.”
“But just to think of it,” mused Phil. “Those Texas plains, the Rio
Grande, the free wild life—”
“Sleeping under the stars,” interrupted Tom, “mixing it with the
greasers—”
“And above all, nabbing that scoundrel who shot my father,” put in Dick.
“Fellows, there’s no two ways about it. We’ve just got to go.”
“Seems to be unanimous,” remarked the professor looking around with a
smile at the eager, ardent faces, “but all the same it will bear a lot
of thinking over. Better call up your friend again and see just what he
has in mind.”
Phil complied with the suggestion, his words fairly tumbling over each
other in his eagerness.
“You’ve got us guessing, Steve,” he said. “Just how much in earnest were
you in what you said in your wind-up? Talk turkey now. What’s the game?
Get right down to brass tacks.”
After a brief interval Steve’s answer came.
“Stirred up the animals did I with that innocent remark of mine?” he
said. “Well, Phil, old boy, here’s what I mean, straight from the
shoulder.
“I want you and Dick and Tom to come down here and join me in the
service of the Texas Rangers. They’re the finest kind of a bunch,
straight fellows, dead shots, daring riders, just the kind of men you
boys would like to pal up with. The border troubles are getting so
serious here that we need more men. Of course, there are Government
troops here but only a handful, and the border line is so long that they
can’t possibly police it. So we Rangers get in and help on the job. The
discipline is good—our Captain Bradley is an old West Pointer—but it’s
nothing like so irksome as it is in the regular army. I can guarantee
you plenty of excitement and adventure with very little of the red
tape.
“Above all we’re short of flying men and we need them more than anything
else. In chasing the Mexican guerrillas or warning of their approach on
one of their frequent raids they’re invaluable. Now, you and Dick and
Tom are as much at home in a plane as you are on the ground, and the job
is just cut out for you. I’ve talked the matter over with Captain
Bradley and he’s keen to have you in our flying service.
“Then as to that matter of Muggs Murray, I honestly think you’d stand a
first-class chance of nabbing him if you came along with us. In the
course of your work, aloft in the air, you’d be called on to scan
practically every foot of the border in this section. Sooner or later
you’d be likely to come across him and his band. And you’d have the
whole troop of Rangers behind you to help you round him up.
“Now that’s the whole story. I’ll have to stop now as I have to turn in
a report. Think it over carefully, old scout, and call me up tomorrow
night. Regards to the rest of the boys and so long.”
The voice ceased, leaving the listeners’ minds in a tumult.
“Are you game, fellows?” asked Phil.
“You bet,” replied Dick emphatically.
“Lead me to it,” exclaimed Tom.
“Well,” said Phil, “we’ll put it up to the folks. I have a hunch that
before many days have passed we’ll be in Texas, down by the Rio Grande.”