THE CAPTIVES
Ned had not noticed at first, but, since his eyes were growing used to
the dim light, and since the Panther had pointed the way, he saw a dozen
men, arms bound tightly behind them, leaning against the trees. They
were prisoners and he knew instinctively that they were Texans. His
blood, hot at first, now chilled in his veins. They had been captured by
Urrea in a raid, and as Santa Anna had decreed that all Texans were
rebels who should be executed when taken, they would surely die, unless
rescue came.
"What shall we do?" he whispered.
"Nothing now," replied the Panther, in the same soft tone, "but if you
an' Obed are with me we'll follow this crowd, an' maybe we can get the
Texans away from 'em. It's likely that Urrea will cross the Rio Grande
an' go down into Mexico to meet Cos or Santa Anna. Are you game enough
to go, Ned? I'm a Ring Tailed Panther an' a roarin' grizzly bear, but I
don't like to follow all by myself."
"I'm with you," said Ned, "if I have to go all the way back to the City
of Mexico, an' I know that I can speak for Obed, too."
"I jest asked as a matter of form," said the Panther. "I knowed before
askin' that you an' Obed would stick to me."
There was a sudden gust of wind at that moment and the light of the fire
sprang higher. The flames threw a glow across the faces of the
prisoners. Most of them were asleep, but Ned saw them very distinctly
now. One was a boy but little older than himself, his face pale and
worn. Near him was an old man, with a face very uncommon on the border.
His features were those of a scholar and ascetic. His cheeks were thin,
and thick white hair crowned a broad white brow. Ned felt instinctively
that he was a man of importance.
Both the boy and the man slept the sleep of utter exhaustion.
Urrea rose presently and looked at his prisoners. The moonlight was
shining on his face, and it seemed to Ned to be that of some master
demon. The boy was far from denying many good qualities to the Mexicans,
but the countenance of Urrea certainly did not express any of them that
night. It showed only savage exultation as he looked at the bound men,
and Ned knew that this was a formidable enemy of the Texans, one who
would bring infinite resources of cunning and enterprise to crush them.
Urrea said a few words to his officers and then withdrew into a small
tent which Ned had not noticed hitherto. The officers lay down in their
blankets, but a dozen sentinels watched about the open space. Ned and
the Panther crept slowly back toward the plain.
"What is our best plan, Panther?" whispered the hoy.
"We can't do anything yet but haul off, watch an' then follow. The
chaparral runs along for a mile or two an' we can hide in the north end
of it until they march south an' are out of sight. Then we'll hang on."
They found Obed standing exactly where they had left him, the reins of
the three horses in his hands.
"Back at last," he said. "All things come to him who waits long enough,
if he doesn't die first. Did you see anything besides a lot of Mexican
vaqueros, fuddled with liquor and sound asleep?"
"We did not see any vaqueros," replied the Panther, "but we saw Urrea
an' his band, an' they had among them a dozen good Texans bound fast,
men who will be shot if we three don't stand in the way. You have to
follow with us, Obed, because Ned has already promised for you."
The Maine man looked at them and smiled.
"A terribly good mind reader, that boy, Ned," he said. "He knew exactly
what I wanted. There's a lot of things in the world that I'd like to do,
but the one that I want to do most just now is to follow Urrea and that
crowd of his and take away those Texans. You two couldn't keep me from
going."
The Panther smiled back.
"You are shorely the right stuff, Obed White," he said. "We're only
three in this bunch, but two of 'em besides me are ring-tailed panthers.
Now we'll just draw off, before it's day, an' hide in the chaparral up
there."
They rode a mile to the north and remained among dense bushes until
daylight. At dawn they saw a column of smoke rise from Urrea's camp.
"They are cookin' breakfast now," said the Panther. "It's my guess that
in an hour they'll be ridin' south with their prisoners."
The column of smoke sank after a while, and a couple of hours later the
three left the chaparral. From one of the summits they dimly saw a mass
of horsemen riding toward Mexico.
"There's our men," said the Panther, "an' now we'll follow all day at
this good, safe distance. At night we can draw up closer if we want to
do it."
The Mexicans maintained a steady pace, and the three pursuers followed
at a distance of perhaps two miles. Now and then the swells completely
shut Urrea's band from sight, but Ned, Obed and the Panther followed the
broad trail without the slightest difficulty.
"They'll reach the river before noon," said the Panther. "There ain't
any doubt now that they're bound for Mexico. It's jest as well for what
we want to do, 'cause they're likely to be less watchful there than they
are in Texas."
The band of Urrea, as nearly as they could judge, numbered about fifty,
all mounted and armed well. The Mexicans were fine horsemen, and with
good training and leadership they were dangerous foes. The three knew
them well, and they kept so far behind that they were not likely to be
observed.
It was only a half hour past noon when Urrea's men reached the Rio
Grande, and without stopping made the crossing. They avoided the
quicksands with experienced eyes, and swam their horses through the deep
water, the prisoners always kept in the center of the troop. Ned, Obed
and the Panther watched them until they passed out of sight. Then they,
too, rode forward, although slowly, toward the stream.
"We can't lose 'em," said the Panther, "so I think we'd better stay out
of sight now that they're on real Mexican soil. Maybe our chance will
come to-night, an' ag'in maybe it won't."
"Patience will have its perfect rescue, if we only do the right things,"
said Obed.
"An' if we think hard enough an' long enough we're bound to do 'em, or
I'm a Ring Tailed Panther an' a Cheerful Talker fur nothin'," said the
Panther.
Waiting until they were certain that the Mexicans were five or six miles
ahead, the three forded the Rio Grande, and stood once more on Mexican
soil. It gave Ned a curious thrill. He had passed through so much in
Mexico that he had not believed he would ever again enter that country.
The land on the Mexican side was about the same as that on the Texan,
but it seemed different to him. He beheld again that aspect of infinite
age, of the long weariness of time, and of physical decay.
They rode more briskly through the afternoon and at darkness saw the
camp fires of Urrea glimmering ahead of them. But the night was not
favorable to their plans. The sky was the usual cloudless blue of the
Mexican plateau, the moon was at the full and all the stars were out.
What they wanted was bad weather, hoping meanwhile the execution of the
prisoners would not be begun until the Mexicans reached higher authority
than Urrea, perhaps Santa Anna himself.
They made their own camp a full two miles from Urrea's, and Obed and the
Panther divided the watch.
Urrea started early the next morning, and so did the pursuing three. The
dawn was gray, and the breeze was chill. As they rode on, the wind rose
and its edge became so sharp that there was a prospect of another
Norther. The Panther unrolled from his pack the most gorgeous serape
that Ned had ever seen. It was of the finest material, colored a deep
scarlet and it had a gold fringe.
"Fine feathers are seen afar," said Obed.
"That's so," said the Panther, "but we're not coming near enough to the
Mexicans for them to catch a glimpse of this, an' such bein' the case
I'm goin' to put it between me an' the cold. I'm proud of it, an' when I
wrap it aroun' me I feel bigger an' stronger. Its red color helps me. I
think I draw strength from red, just as I do from a fine, tender buffalo
steak."
He spoke with much earnestness, and the other two did not contradict
him. Meanwhile he gracefully folded the great serape about his
shoulders, letting it fall to the saddle. No Mexican could have worn it
more rakishly.
"That's my shield and protector," he said. "Now blow wind, blow snow,
I'll keep warm."
It blew wind, but it did not blow snow. The day remained cold, but the
air undoubtedly had a touch of damp.
"It may rain, and I'm sure the night will be dark," said Obed. "We may
have our chance. Fortune favors those who help themselves."
The country became more broken, and the patches of scrub forest
increased in number. Often the three rode quite near to Urrea's men and
observed them closely. The Mexicans were moving slowly, and, as the
Americans had foreseen, discipline was relaxed greatly.
Near night drops of rain began to fall in their faces, and the sun set
among clouds. The three rejoiced. A night, dark and wet, had come sooner
than they had hoped. Obed and Ned also took out serapes, and wrapped
them around their shoulders. They served now not only to protect their
bodies, but to keep their firearms dry as well. Then they tethered their
horses among thorn bushes about a mile from Urrea's camp, and advanced
on foot.
They saw the camp fire glimmering feebly through the night, and they
advanced boldly. It was so dark now that a human figure fifty feet away
blended with the dusk, and the ground, softened by the rain, gave back
no sound of footsteps. Nevertheless they saw on their right a field
which showed a few signs of cultivation, and they surmised that Urrea
had made his camp at the lone hut of some peon.
They reckoned right. They came to clumps of trees, and in an opening
inclosed by them was a low adobe hut, from the open door of which a
light shone. They knew that Urrea and his officers had taken refuge
there from the rain and cold and, under the boughs of the trees or
beside the fire, they saw the rest of the band sheltering themselves as
best they could. The prisoners, their hands bound, were in a group in
the open, where the slow, cold rain fell steadily upon them. Ned's heart
swelled with rage at the sight.
Order and discipline seemed to be lacking. Men came and went as they
pleased. Fully twenty of them were making a shelter of canvas and thatch
beside the hut. Others began to build the fire higher in order to fend
off the wet and cold. Ned did not see that the chance of a rescue was
improved, but the Panther felt a sudden glow when his eyes alighted upon
something dark at the edge of the woods. A tiny shed stood there and his
keen eyes marked what was beneath it.
"What do you think we'd better do, Panther?" asked Obed.
"No roarin' jest now. We mustn't raise our voices above whispers, but
we'll go back in the brush and wait. In an hour or two all these
Mexicans will be asleep. Like as not the sentinels, if they post any,
will be asleep first."
They withdrew deeper into the thickets, where they remained close
together. They saw the fire die in the Mexican camp. After a while all
sounds there ceased, and again they crept near. The Panther was a
genuine prophet, known and recognized by his comrades. Urrea's men,
having finished their shelters, were now asleep, including all the
sentinels except two. There was some excuse for them. They were in their
own country, far from any Texan force of importance, and the night could
scarcely have been worse. It was very dark, and the cold rain fell with
a steadiness and insistence that sought and finally found every opening
in one's clothing. Even the stalking three drew their serapes closer,
and shivered a little.
The two sentinels who did not sleep were together on the south side of
the glade. Evidently they wished the company of each other. They were
now some distance from the dark little shed toward which the Panther was
leading his comrades, and their whole energies were absorbed in an
attempt to light two cigarritos, which would soothe and strengthen them
as they kept their rainy and useless watch.
The three completed the segment of the circle and reached the little
shed which had become such an object of importance to the Panther.
"Don't you see?" said the Panther, his grim joy showing in his tone.
They saw, and they shared his satisfaction. The Mexicans had stacked
their rifles and muskets under the shed, where they would be protected
from the rain.
"It's queer what foolish things men do in war," said Obed. "Whom the
gods would destroy they first deprive of the sense of danger. They do
not dream that Richard, meaning the Panther, is in the chaparral."
"If we approach this shed from the rear the sentinels, even if they
look, will not be able to see us," said the Panther. "By the great horn
spoon, what an opportunity! I can hardly keep from roarin' an' ravin'
about it. Now, boys, we'll take away their guns, swift an' quiet."
A few trips apiece and all the rifles and muskets with their ammunition
were carried deep into the chaparral, where Obed, gladly sacrificing his
own comfort, covered them against the rain with his serape. Not a sign
had come meanwhile from the two sentinels on the far side of the camp.
Ned once or twice saw the lighted ends of their cigarritos glowing like
sparks in the darkness, but the outlines of the men's figures were very
dusky.
"An' now for the riskiest part of our job, the one that counts the
most," said the Panther, "the one that will make everything else a
failure if it falls through. We've got to secure the prisoners."
The captives were lying under the boughs of some trees about twenty
yards from the spot where the fire had been built. The pitiless rain had
beaten upon them, but as far as Ned could judge they had gone to sleep,
doubtless through sheer exhaustion. The Panther's plan of action was
swift and comprehensive.
"Boys," he said, "I'm the best shot of us three. I don't say it in any
spirit of boastin', 'cause I've pulled trigger about every day for
thirty years, an' more'n once a hundred times in one day. Now you two
give me your rifles and I'll set here in the edge of the bushes, then
you go ahead as silent as you can an' cut the prisoners loose. If
there's an alarm I'll open fire with the three rifles and cover the
escape."
Handing the rifles to the Panther, the two slipped forward. It was a
grateful task to Ned. Again his heart swelled with wrath as he saw the
dark figures of the bound men lying on the ground in the rain. He
remembered the one who was youthful of face like himself and he sought
him. As he approached he made out a figure lying in a strained
position, and he was sure that it was the captive lad. A yard or two
more and he knew absolutely. He touched the boy on the shoulder,
whispered in his ear that it was a friend, and, with one sweep of his
knife, released his arms.
"Crawl to the chaparral there," said Ned, in swift sharp tones, pointing
the way. "Another friend is waiting at that point."
The boy, without a word, began to creep forward in a stiff and awkward
fashion. Ned turned to the next prisoner. It was the elderly man whom he
had seen from the chaparral, and he was wide awake, staring intently at
Ned.
"Is it rescue?" he whispered. "Is it possible?"
"It is rescue. It is possible," replied Ned, in a similar whisper. "Turn
a little to one side and I will cut the cords that bind you."
The man turned, but when Ned freed him he whispered:
"You will have to help me. I cannot yet walk alone. Urrea has already
given me a taste of what I was to expect."
Ned shuddered. There was a terrible significance in the prisoner's tone.
He assisted him to rise partly, but the man staggered. It was evident
that he could not walk. He must help this man, but the others were
waiting to be released also. Then the good thought came.
"Wait a moment," he said, and he cut the bonds of another man.
"Now you help your friend there," he said.
He saw the two going away together, and he turned to the others. He and
Obed worked fast, and within five minutes the last man was released. But
as they crept back toward the chaparral the slack sentinels caught
sight of the dusky figures retreating. Two musket shots were fired and
there were rapid shouts in Mexican jargon. Ned and Obed rose to their
feet and, keeping the escaped prisoners before them, ran for the
thickets.
A terrific reply to the Mexican alarm came from the forest. A volley of
rifle and pistol shots was fired among the soldiers as they sprang to
their feet and a tremendous voice roared:
"At 'em, boys! At 'em! Charge 'em! Now is your time! Rip an' t'ar an'
roar an' chaw! Don't let a single one escape! Sweep the scum off the
face of the earth!"
The Ring Tailed Panther had a mighty voice, issuing from a mighty
throat. Never had he used it in greater volume or to better purpose than
on that night. The forest fairly thundered with the echoes of the battle
cry, and as the dazed Mexicans rushed for their guns only to find them
gone, they thought that the whole Texan army was upon them. In another
instant a new terror struck at their hearts. Their horses and mules,
driven in a frightful stampede, suddenly rushed into the glade and they
were now busy keeping themselves from being trampled to death.
Truly the Panther had spent well the few minutes allotted to him. He
fired new shots, some into the frightened herd. His tremendous voice
never ceased for an instant to encourage his charging troops, and to
roar out threats against the enemy. Urrea, to his credit, made an
attempt to organize his men, to stop the panic, and to see the nature of
the enemy, but he was borne away in the frantic mob of men and horses
which was now rushing for the open plain.
Ned and Obed led the fugitives to the place where the rifles and muskets
were stacked. Here they rapidly distributed the weapons and then broke
across the tree trunks all they could not use or carry. Another minute
and they reached their horses, where the Panther, panting from his huge
exertions, joined them. Ned helped the lame man upon one of the horses,
the weakest two who remained, including the boy, were put upon the
others, and led by the Panther they started northward, leaving the
chaparral.
It was a singular march, but for a long time nothing was said. The sound
of the Mexican stampede could yet be heard, moving to the south, but
they, rescuers and rescued, walked in silence save for the sound of
their feet in the mud of the wind-swept plain. Ned looked curiously at
the faces of those whom they had saved, but the night had not lightened,
and he could discern nothing. They went thus a full quarter of an hour.
The noise of the stampede sank away in the south, and then the Panther
laughed.
It was a deep, hearty, unctuous laugh that came from the very depths of
the man's chest. It was a laugh with no trace of merely superficial joy.
He who uttered it laughed because his heart and soul were in it. It was
a laugh of mirth, relief and triumph, all carried to the highest degree.
It was a long laugh, rising and falling, but when it ceased and the
Panther had drawn a deep breath he opened his mouth again and spoke the
words that were in his mind.
"I shorely did some rippin' an' roarin' then," he said. "It was the best
chance I ever had, an' I guess I used it. How things did work for us!
Them sleepy sentinels, an' then the stampede of the animals, carryin'
Urrea an' the rest right away with it."
"Fortune certainly worked for us," said Ned.
"And we can find no words in which to describe to you our gratitude,"
said the crippled man on the horse. "We were informed very clearly by
Urrea that we were rebels and, under the decree of Santa Anna, would be
executed. Even our young friend here, this boy, William Allen, would not
have been spared."
"We ain't all the way out of the woods yet," said the Panther, not
wishing to have their hopes rise too high and then fall. "Of course
Urrea an' his men have some arms left. They wouldn't stack 'em all under
the shed, an' they can get more from other Mexicans in these parts. When
they learn from their trailers how few we are they'll follow."
The rescued were silent, save one, evidently a veteran frontiersman, who
said:
"Let 'em come. I was took by surprise, not thinkin' any Mexicans was
north of the Rio Grande. But now that I've got a rifle on one shoulder
an' a musket on the other I think I could thrash an acre-lot full of
'em."
"That's the talk," said Obed White. "We'll say to 'em: 'Come one, come
all, this rock from its firm base may fly, but we're the boys who'll
never say die.'"
They relapsed once more into silence. The rain had lightened a little,
but the night was as dark as ever. The boy whom the man had called
William Allen drew up by the side of Ned. They were of about the same
height, and each was as tall and strong as a man.
"Have you any friends here with you?" asked Ned.
"All of them are my friends, but I made them in captivity. I came to
Texas to find my fortune, and I found this."
The boy laughed, half in pity of himself, and half with genuine humor.
"But I ought not to complain," he added, "when we've been saved in the
most wonderful way. How did you ever happen to do it?"
"We've been following you all the way from the other side of the Rio
Grande, waiting a good chance. It came to-night with the darkness, the
rain, and the carelessness of the Mexicans. I heard the man call you
William Allen. My name is Fulton, Edward Fulton, Ned to my friends."
"And mine's Will to my friends."
"And you and I are going to be friends, that's sure."
"Nothing can be surer."
The hands of the two boys met in a strong grasp, signifying a friendship
that was destined to endure.
The Panther and Obed now began to seek a place for a camp. They knew
that too much haste would mean a breakdown, and they meant that the
people whom they had rescued should have a rest. But it took a long time
to find the trees which would furnish wood and partial shelter. It was
Obed who made the happy discovery some time after midnight. Turning to
their left, they entered a grove of dwarf oaks, covering a half acre or
so, and with much labor and striving built a fire. They made it a big
fire, too, and fed it until the flames roared and danced. Ned noticed
that all the rescued prisoners crouched close to it, as if it were a
giver of strength and courage as well as warmth, and now the light
revealed their faces. He looked first at the crippled man, and the
surprise that he had felt at his first glimpse of him increased.
The stranger was of a type uncommon on the border. His large features
showed cultivation and the signs of habitual and deep thought. His thick
white hair surmounted a broad brow. His clothing, although torn by
thorns and briars, was of fine quality. Ned knew instinctively that it
was a powerful face, one that seldom showed the emotions behind it. The
rest, except the boy, were of the border, lean, sun-browned men,
dressed in tanned deerskin.
The Panther and Obed also gazed at the crippled man with great
curiosity. They knew the difference, and they were surprised to find
such a man in such a situation. He did not seem to notice them at first,
but from his seat on a log leaned over the fire warming his hands, which
Ned saw were large, white and smooth. His legs lay loosely against the
log, as if he were suffering from a species of paralysis. The others,
soaked by the rain, which, however, now ceased, were also hovering over
the fire which was giving new life to the blood in their veins. The man
with the white hands turned presently and, speaking to Ned, Obed and the
Panther, said:
"My name is Roylston, John Roylston."
Ned started.
"I see that you have heard of it," continued the stranger, but without
vanity. "Yes, I am the merchant of New Orleans. I have lands and other
property in this region for which I have paid fairly. I hold the deeds
and they are also guaranteed to me by Santa Anna and the Mexican
Congress. I was seized by this guerilla leader, Urrea. He knew who I
was, and he sought to extract from me an order for a large sum of money
lying in a European bank in the City of Mexico. There are various ways
of procuring such orders, and he tried one of the most primitive
methods. That is why I cannot walk without help. No, I will not tell
what was done. It is not pleasant to hear. Let it pass. I shall walk
again as well as ever in a month."
"Did he get the order?" asked Obed curiously.
Roylston laughed deep in his throat.
"He did not," he said. "It was not because I valued it so much, but my
pride would not permit me to give way to such crude methods. I must
say, however, that you three came just in time, and you have done a most
marvelous piece of work."
Ned shuddered and walked a little space out on the plain to steady his
nerves. He had never deceived himself about the dangers that the Texans
were facing, but it seemed that they would have to fight every kind of
ferocity. When he returned, Obed and the Panther were building the fire
higher.
"We must get everybody good and dry," said the Panther. "Pursuit will
come, but not to-night, an' we needn't worry about the blaze. We've food
enough for all of you for a day, but we haven't the horses, an' for that
I'm sorry. If we had them we could git away without a doubt to the Texan
army."
"But not having them," said Obed, "we'll even do the best we can, if the
Mexicans, having run away, come back to fight another day."
"So we will," said a stalwart Texan named Fields. "That Urrea don't get
me again, and if I ain't mistook your friend here is Mr. Palmer, better
known in our parts as the Ring Tailed Panther, ain't he?"
Ned saw the Panther's huge form swell. He still wore the great serape,
which shone in the firelight with a deep blood-red tinge.
"I am the Ring Tailed Panther," he said proudly.
"Then lemme shake your hand. You an' your pards have done a job to-night
that ain't had its like often, and me bein' one of them that's profited
by it makes it look all the bigger to me."
The Panther graciously extended an enormous palm, and the great palm of
Fields met it in a giant clasp. A smile lighted up the somber face of
Mr. Roylston as he looked at them.
"Often we find powerful friends when we least expect them," he said.
"As you are the worst hurt of the lot," said the Panther, "we're going
to make you a bed right here by the fire. No, it ain't any use sayin'
you won't lay down on it. If you won't we'll jest have to put you down."
They spread a blanket, upon which the exhausted merchant lay, and they
covered him with a serape. Soon he fell asleep, and then Fields said to
Ned and his comrades:
"You fellows have done all the work, an' you've piled up such a mountain
of debt against us that we can never wipe it out. Now you go to sleep
and four of us will watch. And, knowin' what would happen to us if we
were caught, we'll watch well. But nothing is to be expected to-night."
"Suits us," said Obed. "Some must watch while others sleep, so runs the
world away. Bet you a dollar, Ned, that I'm off to Slumberland before
you are."
"I don't take the bet," said Ned, "but I'll run you an even race."
In exactly five minutes the two, rolled in their own blankets, slept
soundly. All the others soon followed, except four, who, unlike the
Mexicans, kept a watch that missed nothing.