Rounding up “Muggs” Murray
In an instant the camp was in pandemonium. Revolvers cracked and bullets
whizzed and bandits and Rangers were at death grips. The Mexicans
grasped their arms, and under the threats and curses of Espato tried to
rally. They were fully equal in number to the Rangers, but far inferior
in stamina and courage, and were steadily driven back to the edge of the
plateau.
Dick and Tom were in the van of the charge, and after the first volley
they rushed to the tree where Phil was bound. A slash of their knives
cut the ropes, and then they threw their arms about their comrade and
fairly hugged him in the exuberance of their delight.
Phil was quite as incoherent in his rapture as they, but the fight was
on and all were eager to join in the fray.
“Rub my arms and legs, fellows, and get the blood into them,” cried
Phil, “and then give me a gun. I’ve got a score to settle with Espato.”
They set to work, and in a minute or two Phil was ready for action. They
gave him a Colt’s, and all three ran in the direction of the melee.
But by this time the fight was nearly over. Many of the Mexicans had
fallen, and others as they neared the edge of the frightful precipice
had thrown down their arms and surrendered.
Espato himself was on the very edge of the cliff engaged in a desperate
knife contest with an antagonist. As the boys rushed toward him, Phil
gave a gasp of surprise as he saw that that antagonist was Tony.
At the same moment Tony’s knife found its mark and was buried to the
haft in Espato’s breast.
With a wild scream the scoundrel toppled over the cliff. Shriek followed
shriek as he whirled over in that appalling flight. Then came a crash
and—silence.
Tony wiped his knife on his shirt and thrust it back in its sheath.
“For my father,” he muttered, as he walked back toward the Rangers with
his hands uplifted in token of surrender.
A few more scattering shots and the fight was ended. The surviving
members of the band were disarmed and placed in the center of the camp
under guard. Several of the Rangers had been wounded but not seriously,
for the Mexicans, indifferent marksmen at the best, had shot even more
wildly than usual owing to the completeness of the surprise.
After everything had been attended to, Captain Bradley had time to
congratulate Phil and to receive the warm thanks of the latter for
having come to his help in his sore extremity.
“That’s all right,” smiled the captain. “I’m only glad that we got here
in time. You surely had a close call. It was the radio that saved you.”
“Radio and you combined,” replied Phil, “and it proved a strong
combination. I want to ask one more favor of you Captain,” he continued,
“and that is to let two of your prisoners go.”
He pointed toward Tony and Juanita, the latter of whom was sitting in a
group of the women, her dark eyes filled with fright.
He briefly related how he owed his life to them and the Captain nodded
sympathetically.
“Of course, I’ll let them go,” he answered. “As a matter of fact,” he
continued, “I don’t see how I’m going to take any prisoners back with
me. You see this whole thing is rather irregular”—he smiled
whimsically—“as we technically have no right to invade Mexican
territory, even though we’re doing a service to civilization in wiping
out this den of rattlesnakes. It might stir up a row at Washington, even
though Washington at heart might be glad we did it. We Texans don’t care
much for red tape ourselves, but there’s no use in embarrassing the
Government. Espato and his lieutenant are dead, and the rest of these
rascals can drift away wherever they will. But I’ll give this Tony and
Juanita, as you call them, a pair of horses and let them get a head
start for fear some of these fellows may have it in for Tony because he
killed Espato. The rest I’ll keep till tomorrow and then turn them
loose.”
He was as good as his word and in a little while Tony and Juanita were
started off, with fervent thanks from Phil and as much money in their
pockets to start housekeeping with as the boys could scrape up between
them.
The next morning the rest of the prisoners were released, after they had
been given a stern warning by Captain Bradley that their lives wouldn’t
be worth a moment’s purchase if they were ever again found on the other
side of the Mexican border. Then the troop took up its march to Laguna,
while Phil, Dick and Tom hovered over them with the plane.
The Radio Boys were in the highest spirits, and Phil was kept busy
telling his companions all the details of his capture and imprisonment.
“It made me sore,” he said, “to have them nab me before I could get back
to camp and give you the tip on the ‘Muggs’ Murray gang. We could have
caught them dead to rights and rounded them up without any trouble.”
“That’s queer,” muttered Dick, who at the time was scanning the
landscape with his glasses.
“What’s queer?” asked Phil and Tom in the same breath.
“That auto,” replied Dick, passing the glasses over to Phil. “You don’t
see many of them in this forsaken country. And whoever’s at the wheel is
driving like mad.”
“Coming as if the old boy were after them,” agreed Phil, focusing the
glasses upon the machine. “From the direction of the border too. By the
great horn spoon!” he shouted suddenly. “Do you know who’s in it? Muggs
Murray and Rocks Gurney or I’m a Chinaman.”
“Go way,” exclaimed Tom unbelievingly.
“Sure as shooting,” persisted Phil. “The States must have got too hot
for them and they’re making tracks into Mexico where they can’t be
followed. Now’s our chance.”
With a great swoop he brought the plane to the ground and hurried up to
Captain Bradley with the news. From the ground the car had not come into
sight and was still several miles away.
A little way off was a clump of woodland through which ran the road
along which the car was coming. A few sharp orders, and the troop of
Rangers was deployed to the best advantage in the wood where they lay
flat on the ground sheltered by the trees. To the casual eye there was
no sign of life visible.
Soon the purring of the car was heard and before long the machine came
dashing along at a high rate of speed. It stopped abruptly, however, at
the sight of several huge rocks that had been rolled into the road by
the Rangers.
With a muttered oath, the men who were in the car climbed out to remove
the obstacles. And just then a volley of shots was fired into the air,
and up about the fugitives rose, as if by magic, a swarm of men with
leveled rifles.
There was a startled shout from the two rascals. Gurney—for Phil had
guessed correctly—turned fairly green from fright and held up his hands
promptly. But Murray was made of more desperate stuff and quick as
lightning made a move to draw his weapon. Before he could get it,
however, a half a dozen brawny hands had grasped him, and although he
fought like a tiger he was soon overpowered, bound and thrown to the
ground, where he lay still struggling to burst his bonds and hurling
imprecations at his captors.
“The jig’s up, Murray,” said Phil, who had been foremost of those who
had thrown themselves upon him. “Where’s that money you stole from the
Castleton bank? Come across now.”
His only answer was an oath.
“We’ll search the car,” said Captain Bradley. “No doubt he’s brought his
loot with him.”
Phil and Dick were delighted to do the searching, and in a moment there
was a cry of delight from the latter, as he lifted up the rear seat of
the car and discovered piles of bills bound together with strips that
bore the initials of the cashier of the Castleton bank.
The money was counted by Captain Bradley while the Radio Boys looked on
with feverish impatience.
“Thirty-eight thousand, five hundred and fifty dollars,” he announced at
last. “That accounts for most of the forty thousand you say he stole.
The rest I suppose he’s spent.”
“Thirty-eight thousand odd!” cried Dick in uncontrollable delight.
“Maybe we won’t have some good news to radio to Castleton tonight,”
exclaimed Phil, equally as elated.
“Glory hallelujah!” shouted Tom, as he clapped his comrades on the back.
Murray and Gurney were hustled into the car under guard, one of the
Rangers was placed at the wheel, the Radio Boys clambered into the
_Arrow_ and the column took up its line of march.
If ever a plane carried light hearts, the _Arrow_ did that afternoon.
The boys laughed, jested and chaffed each other and tasted to the full
the sheer delight of living.
“Well,” sighed Phil blissfully, “if we were looking for adventure when
we came here we sure have got our fill of it. We’ll never have such
exciting times again as long as we live.”
But Phil was mistaken, as will be seen by those who read the following
book of this series, entitled: “Radio Boys Under the Sea, or, the Hunt
For the Sunken Treasure.”
Steve’s delight when he welcomed Phil on the arrival of the Rangers at
Laguna that afternoon was beyond expression. He instantly radioed to
Castleton the story of the recovery of the bank’s money, and the answer
he received bore full testimony to the excitement and gratification
caused by the news. “Muggs” Murray and Gurney were thrown into jail,
there to await extradition and trial for their crimes.
That evening they all foregathered in Steve’s cabin, where once again
Phil had to go over the story of his adventures while he was in Espato’s
hands.
They sat till late, and then there came a moment of silence while each
was busied with his own thoughts.
Phil was gazing with rapt interest at Steve’s radio set.
“Hope you’ll know it when you see it again,” chaffed Steve. “What’s the
matter? Fallen in love with it?”
“Why shouldn’t I?” answered Phil. “Radio saved my life!”
THE END
End of Project Gutenberg's Radio Boys in the Flying Service, by J. W. Duffield