THE TAR BARREL
Jim and Terry looked helplessly at the Mexican overseer as he faced them
with levelled rifle and the cool assurance that he would kill them to
keep the treasure from the galleon for himself. They tried to believe
that he was only joking, but from the set on his face and the glint in
his eyes they knew better. All too often in the history of gold hunting
and discovery had the discoverers paid for it with their lives, so that
someone else could reap the reward.
“But why should you wish to kill us, senor?” Jim asked in Spanish. “Have
not we agreed to see that you have a large share in it?”
“How do I know that you will keep your word to me?” the Mexican
answered.
“Well, I like that!” cried Jim. “We know how to keep our word, Senor
Alaroze!”
“What of it?” returned the overseer, with a slight shrug. “Why should I
not have all of it instead of a small part?”
“Oh, well, if you feel that way about it,” said Jim, turning pale.
While Jim had been talking Terry had been doing some rapid thinking.
They were standing close to the man, and the extended muzzle of the
rifle was within easy reach. Any kind of motion toward it would be sure
to be disastrous, and Terry knew it. There was one thing needed and
Terry did it. With great coolness, a feeling which he was far from
possessing, he looked over the shoulder of the overseer.
“Well,” he said, carelessly. “I guess neither of us will get the
treasure. Here comes Sackett and his party.”
He used just the right amount of conviction in his tones and he won. Jim
looked away over the Mexican’s shoulder and was fooled as completely as
the overseer. With a muttered imprecation the man turned his head
slightly to see who was back of him. That motion was his undoing. Quick
as a flash Terry’s foot came up in a splendid football kick that sent
the rifle flying upward. Before the astonished ranchman could move the
red-headed boy flung himself on him and punched him a hard wallop on the
stomach. With a groan the Mexican sank to the ground.
“Bully for you, Chucklehead!” cried Jim, springing forward and securing
the gun. “Now we have this fellow where we want him!”
They dragged the crestfallen Mexican to his feet and tied his hands
behind him with a piece of cord which they had originally tied their
clothes to the spars with. He groaned and moaned and begged them to show
mercy to him. Terry became impatient.
“Shut up!” he ordered, savagely. “If I hadn’t done that our two bodies
would have been lying here right this minute, and here you are crying
your head off for mercy! You’re getting a whole lot better than you
deserve right now, let me tell you. Don’t howl until you get back to the
ranch, then we’ll give you something to howl about.”
Still dazed at their terrible peril the boys started on the journey,
placing the cowardly overseer on the horse and following close behind.
When darkness came down they made camp, fed the captive without speaking
with him, and then made camp for the night, resolving to take turns at
keeping watch.
“We can’t let this snake get loose again,” warned Jim. “If he ever gets
away, good night!”
“That was the luckiest break we ever had,” said Terry. “If he had been
standing any further away I never could have done it.”
Jim took the first watch and Terry the second, during which time the
Mexican seemed to sleep calmly. His hands had been untied, so they
covered him with the rifle and kept unwavering eyes upon him. In the
morning the march was resumed and late in the afternoon they approached
the ranch of the Senorita Mercedes.
The senorita was the first to approach and she expressed amazement at
the strange sight which they presented as they walked down into the
ranch yard. Jim related the story to her and she was deeply interested.
Turning to the sullen foreman she upbraided him furiously in Spanish and
turned back to the boys.
“He did not go away to look for stray cattle,” she said. “None of my
cattle have strayed. I do not know why he left me, but I think he is
part of that wicked Sackett band. I think he was only kind to you so he
could place you in that man’s hands.”
“By George, I’ll bet that is right!” exclaimed Jim, and Terry nodded.
“Put him in that small shed,” directed the senorita, pointing to a
little building which stood at the edge of the ranch yard. “Then come to
the house and rest and eat.”
Quite willingly the two boys locked the silent prisoner in the little
shed and returned to the ranch house. The energetic little senorita had
hot water, soap and towels laid out for them, and they fairly revelled
in the washing process.
“When I was a kid,” grinned Terry, “I loved to have a dirty face, but
now I know just what luxury it is to feel clean again.”
“Hope I don’t break this comb of the senorita’s trying to comb my
tangled hair,” grunted Jim. “I can’t honestly say that we are any
beauties to appear at the table of the young lady.”
When they sat down with the youthful and beautiful owner of the little
ranch to eat she said: “My men are at present eating, but as soon as
they have finished I shall send one of them to Ned’s ranch for your
friends.”
“That is very kind of you, Senorita,” murmured Jim, as he ate
ravenously.
“Nonsense!” laughed the girl, tossing her head. “You have been through
such thrilling adventures of late! Tell me more about them.”
As Jim knew more Spanish than Terry it fell to him to relate the
experiences of the past few days. They were lingering over their coffee
when an excited ranchman burst into the room. All three at the table
rose quickly and the man poured something out in some unknown dialect.
“Ride immediately to the Scott ranch for help!” commanded the senorita,
growing pale.
“Alas, senorita, the house is surrounded, I cannot go,” said the man, in
Spanish.
“What, is the house surrounded?” asked Jim, quickly.
“Yes,” answered the senorita, rapidly. “This man tells me that Sackett
and three men rode down, let Alaroze out, and are creeping to the house.
Fly to the doors, quickly!”
Flying was necessary. Terry and Jim hurled the main door of the ranch
house shut just in time to keep Sackett and Abel from rushing it.
Rapidly, under the direction of the girl, they closed all windows and
drew the blinds. Then she gave them each a rifle and took one herself.
“We must watch diligently,” she said, her eyes shining. “They will try
to burst in and we must keep them off.”
A shot rang out and a bullet crashed through the front door. Feeling
that they would be attacked from more than one side they separated, Jim
going to the front of the house and Terry and the senorita keeping watch
on the sides. Several shots were fired, all of which did no harm.
It was now very dark and their peril was increased. A concerted rush
might blast their hopes and Jim in particular was worried. It would be
bad enough to have to surrender to Sackett’s gang, but it would be far
worse to have the dainty senorita fall into their hands. He set his
teeth and determined that it should not happen. There was complete
silence outside, a silence that was not reassuring.
Jim went to the girl where she was crouching beside a window, peering
out into the darkness of the yard. He knelt down beside her.
“Is it possible that one of your men could have slipped away to Ned’s
ranch?” he asked.
“I am sorry to say no, senor. My man tells me that they were all penned
up in their bunkhouse. There is no way we can let our friends know of
our danger.”
“I see. They couldn’t see a light from the top of the ranch, could
they?”
“No, the hills are too high. We must fight these men off until morning
and then see what we can do.”
“If we could only attract Ned’s attention someway,” said Jim. “Watch
out, senorita!”
He fairly dragged her away from the window as a shot tore in through the
glass and the blinds. She shook him off, but kept away from the exposed
part.
“There is nothing—Ah, the tar barrel!” she exclaimed.
“Where is there a tar barrel?” asked Jim, quickly, as Terry fired his
rifle out of another window.
“You see that hill?” asked the senorita, pointing to a low mound back of
the ranch. “On top of that hill is a barrel which is half full of tar. I
have been using it to repair my roofs, and it is half full. If that
could only be lighted they would see it at Ned’s ranch.”
“That’s fine!” cried Jim. “I’ll light that tar barrel myself!”
“Senor, you will be killed!”
“Maybe!” said Jim, grimly. “But I’ll start that bonfire, anyway!”
He related his plan to Terry, who warmly assented, and a little later
Jim worked his way to a side of the house where there was no shooting.
Senorita Mercedes wanted to send her ranchman out on the perilous
venture but Jim had opposed it.
“No, I’ll go,” he said. “It means everything to have it succeed, and the
man might get scared or bungle it in some way. Let me do it.”
He opened a low window on the quiet side of the house, while Terry stood
in the shadows, prepared to shoot down anyone who should loom up. Jim
dropped out of the window and lay flat alongside of the house, and after
a moment he raised his head. The attacking party was in the front and
the rear of the house and he had not been seen. Terry closed the window
and watched Jim slide forward along the ground toward the distant barn.
Fortunately the night was dark and Jim had a good opportunity. Using
extreme care he reached the barn and then looked toward the hill where
the tar barrel stood. The senorita had stood it on the hill because she
was afraid of fire and thought it best to keep it away from the ranch
building. Bending low Jim ran quickly toward the black barrel and
reached it in safety.
Near the house he could see three shadows and he knew that they were
Sackett’s men. They had not dreamed that anyone would be foolhardy
enough to leave the building and so they waited for a favorable
opportunity to rush the doors and break in. They had no intention of
doing so as long as those three guns were flashing out viciously.
There were still three flashes from the house and Jim readily saw what
had happened. Terry or the senorita had given the ranchman who had
brought the news of the attack a gun and he was firing. Probably the
attacking party thought Jim was still in the house. Lying flat on the
ground Jim took a long piece of paper from his pocket and a box of
matches. He placed the papers in the soft tar and lighted it.
The tar caught fire quickly, so quickly that Jim was bathed for a second
in its light. He had made no plans for a retreat, and as the tar barrel
burst into flames he was clearly revealed.
A shout arose from the men who were attacking the house and they sprang
recklessly from cover and dashed toward him. This piece of carelessness
cost them dearly, for the senorita and Terry each brought one man down
with accurate shots in the legs. At the same time Jim sprinted for the
corner of the barn and crouched there, his rifle held in readiness to
bring down anyone who should attempt to put out the blazing beacon.
Higher and higher blazed the barrel with its cargo of tar, sending its
light for several miles over the surrounding countryside. The outlaws
had now rushed back to cover, to consider what move to make next.
“I surely hope the others are at Ned’s and that they see that light,”
thought Jim fervently, as he waited in his position back of the barn.