THE RUINED CASTLE
The professor enjoyed his day of solitude. Long years of serious study
and instructive reading had made him one of the men who prefer being
alone to mixing with a noisy crowd. Not that the professor was the least
bit snobbish or unsociable, but he loved the quietness of inner thought
and the companionship of a book.
After the boys had disappeared over the hill he returned to the living
room and sat in a sunny window looking out over the rolling country
which extended for miles back of Ned’s ranch, away to the purple
mountains in the distance. A feeling of warm contentment came over the
elderly man, for an hour or more he simply dreamed there, enjoying the
comfort of Ned’s best armchair.
After that he read for a long time, until the cook announced that dinner
was ready. He ate alone, well served by the silent Indian and then went
back to smoke his pipe and dream in the window once more. When afternoon
came on he imitated the actions of the cook and Yappi, who both went to
sleep, the cook in a bunk off the kitchen and Yappi beside the barn, his
battered hat over his eyes. The professor sought the dull colored sofa
in the living room and slept until the sun began to go down.
He awoke much refreshed and drank copiously, realizing for the first
time in his long life just how good water could be. Another lone meal
followed and he spent the evening with another book, sitting under the
oil lamp until it was nearly time to go to bed. Then, enchanted with the
fine moonlight, the professor went out on the front porch to smoke a
final pipe before retiring.
The whole landscape was flooded by the brilliant slice of moon which
hung far over in the sky, and the professor drank in its beauty. The
cook had finally cleared up everything in the kitchen and gone out to
the small bunkhouse, to listen for a time to the guitar which Yappi was
playing and then finally to coax the old mestizo into playing a game of
cards with him, over which they droned half asleep, seriously intent.
When Professor Scott had finished his pipe he knocked out the ashes,
yawned and with a final look around, went to his room.
This was in the back of the long, low building, facing the plains and
mountains. He opened the window and finding that there was enough light
from the moon, extinguished the lamp which he had lighted and took off
his necktie. His eyes wandered dreamily over the landscape. Then he
suddenly stopped unbuttoning his collar, his eyes narrowed, and he
became all attention.
On the top of a sand dune a man was standing and looking toward the
ranch. It was only for an instant and then the man disappeared, slipping
down the other side noiselessly. He had on a cape and a sombrero, and
the professor was puzzled. He wondered if Yappi or the cook had left the
place, and after a moment of thought he went back to the front porch and
looked around. There was no light in the bunkhouse now. But when he
started to go out there he saw the cook walking toward the kitchen door
and the ranchman coming out of the barn.
His first impulse was to speak to Yappi, but thinking it useless to
alarm the man he returned to the house and to his room. It was not
either of the men whom he had seen, but some stranger who was carefully
looking down on the ranch. It was possible that it was only some chance
wayfarer who had topped the rise and was examining the ranch, but the
professor knew that Sackett was in the neighborhood and that it would be
well to keep his eyes open. For an hour he looked steadily out of the
window, but he saw nothing more to alarm him, and at last, after making
a tour through the house and locking every door and window, including
the window in his bedroom, he went to bed and soon fell asleep.
When morning came he was awakened by the sound of the cook trying the
back door, and he hastily opened it for the Indian. The cook answered
his cheery morning greeting unemotionally. The Indian had never known
Ned to lock the doors, and he wondered why the older man did it, but no
sign of his thoughts appeared on his shiny dark face and he set about
getting breakfast ready. The professor dressed and then sat down to his
morning meal, after a hasty look around to see that all was well.
Yappi had already attended to the horses when the professor went out to
take a walk around the ranch, and the mestizo was busy in the barn.
After enjoying the clear morning outside the professor went back to the
house and once more resumed his reading, sitting in the window through
which the sun came brightly. From where he was sitting he could see
Yappi at work on a saddle, mending a flap on it, sitting on the low
doorstep of the bunkhouse.
The professor had read for perhaps a half hour and was in the act of
turning a page when he happened to look up and out at the old mestizo.
The man had ceased his stitching and was looking back of the house, the
saddle hanging loosely in his hand. And to the professor’s vast
astonishment, he suddenly tossed the saddle over his shoulder and with
the agility of a cat rolled himself without rising into the doorway of
the bunkhouse.
Struck with amazement at the man’s actions the teacher put down his book
and got up, striding for the front door. But even before he reached it
he heard the back door pushed open and he turned. His worst fears were
realized when he found Sackett standing on the threshold, a rifle in his
hand, and Abel just back of him. Both men were smiling in triumph, but
keeping a wary eye on the house just the same.
“Ah,” said Sackett, grinning broadly. “We didn’t know you was going out
the front door, governor! Or maybe you was goin’ to let us in?”
“What do you want here?” asked the professor, stiffly.
Sackett looked all around. “We ain’t sure, yet. We want you, for one
thing. Keep your gun on him, Abel. Where’s Manuel?”
“Watching the front door,” growled the former mate.
The two men stepped into the house and the professor saw that he was
trapped. He had no idea what the men wanted with him, although his heart
sank a little he resolved to face them unflinchingly. Out of the corner
of his eye he saw the cook glide out of the back door.
“You two men get out of this house!” the professor snapped.
Sackett laughed and walked boldly through the rooms, while Abel kept his
rifle pointed in the professor’s direction. After he had looked through
every room the leader came back.
“Nobody else in the place, just like Manuel said,” he reported. He faced
the old savant. “Where did those boys go to?”
“Off on a camping trip,” answered the professor, calmly.
“Sure they didn’t go looking for that treasure?” inquired the outlaw,
thrusting his face close to Mr. Scott’s.
“Do you mean to say that you believe that story?” sniffed the professor,
scornfully.
“I believe it, and so do you,” replied the chief.
“A fairy story,” said the professor, contemptuously. “My boy has long
since found out that there isn’t anything to it.”
“You and your boy know more about that treasure than you feel like
telling,” retorted Sackett. “You’re coming with us and stay with us
until you tell us what you do know.”
“I guess I’ll stay with you a long time,” said the professor,
humorously. “Because I don’t know anything about it.”
“Stow the talk and come on,” growled the mate. “Want them boys to come
back again?”
“Yes, we had better get moving,” agreed the leader of the gang. He
walked to the desk and took out a piece of paper and a pen, which he
dipped in the ink. “You write a note saying you have gone for a little
exploring trip,” he directed the professor.
“I won’t write a line!” said the professor, stubbornly.
“You write quickly or I’ll punch your head!” growled the outlaw, raising
his heavy fist.
Convinced that he would gain nothing by arguing with these men the
professor took the pen and wrote a short note. He hesitated a moment and
then signed it “Duress Scott.”
“Hey!” cried Sackett, suspiciously. “What’s that you’re putting?”
“You want me to sign my name, don’t you?” asked the teacher, blandly.
“That isn’t your name,” argued the man.
“Oh, it isn’t, eh?” said the professor. “Very well, I’ll sign it just
plain Dad, and then Ned will know that something is wrong.”
The leader thought a moment. “Never mind,” he growled. “That will do as
it is. Now come along, and mind, no funny business, or it will be the
worse for you.”
The professor accompanied them out of the house, jealously guarded by
the two men, and in the back yard Manuel, a short and stolid Mexican,
was waiting for them with a horse from Ned’s own stock. In silence the
professor mounted and the cavalcade moved out of the ranch grounds, the
professor looking around for the cook and Yappi. Neither of them were in
sight.
“Miserable cowards!” muttered the professor, between his set teeth.
They headed for the mountains, the Mexican in front and the professor
riding just ahead of Sackett and Abel, who kept watchful eyes on him.
They travelled in silence during the morning and stopped at noon to eat
and rest, after which they pushed on, in a direction southwest of the
mines. Manuel, it seemed, was the lookout and rode ahead to see to it
that they did not unexpectedly run across some party from the mines or
from other scattered ranches. They had passed to the north of the
Senorita Mercedes ranch and there was no help from that quarter. And
when at last they entered the trees at the foot of the central range
they had not been seen by anyone.
There Manuel waited for the party and they rode on in a compact body,
ascending the long slopes, skirting abrupt cliffs and rising high above
sea level. The woods were of a semi-tropical nature, with thick trees
and bright green leaves, surrounded by dense bushes of undergrowth. It
was cool above the level of the plain and they made good time, coming
out onto a flat plateau late in the afternoon. Before them was a wall of
vegetation, and to the professor’s astonishment they rode straight to
it, pushed their way through and came unexpectedly upon the ruins of a
small castle.
The building was small and now nothing more than a tumbled heap of
ruins. Looking at it closely the professor was inclined to think that it
had never been completed at all, but had been abandoned before the roof
had been put on. Creepers grew in reckless profusion all over the stones
and a bright green snake glided across a door sill with a slight hiss.
The men sprang from their horses and the professor got down slowly,
waiting the next move.
Guided by his captors he was led across the first floor of the place,
evidently the effort of some Spanish nobleman to plant a small empire of
his own in a new country, and ushered into a single room toward the back
of the castle. This room had a ceiling to it and he could see at once
that it was the headquarters of the gang. A stove, made out of bricks
held together by clay, stood in one corner and several strings of red
peppers, dried with heat and age, hung from strings over the stove. A
rough table, two chairs and a bench, and a long box made up the
furniture of the place. Besides the door, which was constructed of heavy
wood, there was a single window in the place, which was barred, though
it had no glass in it. The forest grew close to the back of the place.
“Now look here,” commanded the leader, as soon as they were all in the
room. “Are you going to talk, or do we have to starve it out of you?”
“If you mean I am to tell you anything about that treasure, I guess
you’ll have to starve me,” returned the professor, with spirit. “I tell
you I don’t know a thing about it.”
Sackett turned to Abel. “No use arguing with this man now, I can see
that. Maybe when he gets hungry he’ll sing another tune. Put him in the
dungeon.”
Without wasting a word on the matter Abel drove the professor before him
to a small door which opened in one side of the room. This door, when
opened, disclosed a turning flight of narrow stairs, and down this the
professor went, guided by the light from a lantern which Manuel had
lighted and handed to the mate. After turning around and around they
came suddenly to a narrow cell, in front of which swung a heavy wooden
half door, the upper part of which was composed of iron bars. Abel
opened the door by pulling it toward him and then pushed the professor
inside.
“Stay there until you get hungry,” he said, grimly. “When you feel like
talking just yell for the captain.”
He closed the door with a sharp slam, snapped a padlock in place, and
taking the light with him, remounted the stairs. The professor stood
still, watching the light flash and twinkle on the white stone steps
until it was gone and he was in the darkness alone.