THE RANGERS
The importance of the little Texas town on the Rio Grande could not
in justice be estimated by the size of its population. Situated in a
thriving agricultural district, and near a stock-raising region, with
ore deposits and coal lands to be found not far away, it had gradually
developed into a center of trade for the surrounding country.
Founded by the Spaniards almost one hundred and fifty years before,
some portions of the town still bore a faint impress of their
domination in the quaint, pleasing architecture of the buildings.
Others again were as characteristically Mexican in appearance as though
belonging to towns on the other side of the Rio.
The demands of a rapid, hustling, up-to-date age, however, was bringing
about a change. Modern buildings sprang up, overtopping their
primitive, adobe neighbors, and, like the cattlemen retreating before
the steady advance of the homesteaders and farmers, a certain element
of charm was slowly vanishing from this frontier town.
Its inhabitants, too, were as varied in character as the streets.
Cow-punchers, Mexican vaqueros and men of business, such as might
be seen in any Eastern city, mingled together. The Mexicans,
usually long-haired and swarthy, their costumes often enlivened by
gaudily-colored sashes or handkerchiefs, furnished perhaps the most
picturesque note.
The traveler who stopped here was apt to have his ears assailed by a
strange jargon of tongues. Sometimes it was English, sometimes Spanish,
or it might be a curious combination of the two.
An International bridge connected the town with another, considerably
smaller in size, on the Mexican side of the river. The railroad also
crossed at this point.
A company headquarters of Texas Rangers which had been located in
this section of Texas for some time was in charge of Captain Julius
Braddock. The officer, an old-time cattleman, had passed most of his
life on the plains. In the early part of his career the “bad man” of
the border and elsewhere occupied a far more conspicuous position than
he does in this age, when civilization is constantly reaching farther
and farther afield. And he could tell, and often did, stories of actual
experiences with cattle rustlers and other desperate characters, which
made the usual motion-picture drama on the same subject appear by
comparison quite tame indeed.
Captain Braddock was sitting at his desk in one corner of the big room,
when the door suddenly opened, and, on looking up in surprise, he saw a
great crowd of boys pushing their way inside.
“Hello!” he exclaimed, the stern lines on his rugged, weather-beaten
face relaxed into a smile of welcome. “You all here again, and--’pon my
word--what? Still another?”
He rose to his feet and advanced to a rail, his keen gray eyes fixed on
Cranny Beaumont’s smiling face.
“Yes, sir; still another,” echoed the lad with a chuckle. “How are you,
Captain Braddock?--the boys have told me all about you.”
After a more formal introduction by Bob Somers, breezy Cranny began
to chat with all his accustomed ease and frankness. He told him about
his plans; about the “cracker-jack” nag called “Starlight” he had just
hired from a horse-dealer in town; he mentioned a rifle and revolver
bought but a few minutes before, and altogether managed to impress the
bluff old captain most favorably.
“So you’re out for adventure before settling down to the more serious
pursuits of life,” he said finally, with a twinkle in his eye.
“Yes, sir,” replied Cranny. “I say, Captain, has there been anythin’
doin’ around here lately?”
The officer looked thoughtful.
“Quite a great deal,” he answered slowly.
“To-day, from the roof of our ranch-house, we heard the sound of
firing!” broke in Tom.
“I am not surprised,” said Captain Braddock. “Reports to the effect
that the Mexicans were fighting close to the river reached us. The
Federals are now in possession of the opposite town, but I understand
that an army of Constitutionalists is encamped not twenty miles away.”
“Gracious!” murmured Cranny.
“What an unfortunate state of affairs!” put in Dave. “If the warring
factions could only get together and put as much energy in developing
the wonderful resources of their country as they do in fighting, how
much more sensible it would be!”
The Tacoma lad scarcely heard this observation. To one of his reckless,
adventurous temperament, the thought of actually visiting a town where
such stirring events were possible held an irresistible attraction
for him. He made up his mind to run over to the other side of the Rio
before very long--even if he had to make the trip alone.
The sound of their voices presently brought several of the Rangers,
Carl Alvin among them, from an adjoining room.
The members of the force did not have the spick and span appearance of
the scarlet-coated Royal Northwest Mounted Police of Canada, among whom
the Ramblers had spent some time the summer before. A certain bearing,
however, gained through years of hard service, was sufficiently
authoritative without additional embellishments.
“Hello, fellows! Mighty glad to see you,” hailed Carl Alvin. He turned
to the others. “These are the chaps I told you about.”
Thereupon he introduced the crowd to big Tom Raulings, Oscar Chaney and
Jack Stovall.
“Well, what do you youngsters think you’re goin’ to do out here,
anyway?” drawled Jack, chuckling audibly.
“For one thing--trail the Rangers a bit,” grinned Cranny. “We want to
find out what their job’s like. My--it must be dandy fun, ridin’ around
the country all day, an’----”
“I’ll wager them there notions won’t stick long in your head,” put in
Jim. “’Tain’t no easy snap.”
“But in the old days things was a heap worse,” exclaimed Stovall, the
youngest of the four. “Then Texas was full o’ outlaw bands an’ cattle
rustlers. The ranchmen and cow-punchers used to have some mighty hot
times, an’ the man who was slow on the draw didn’t stan’ much show!”
“You’re right there, Jack,” affirmed Captain Braddock. “I know, for
I’ve seen a bit of gun play in my time.”
“Here’s what I mean, fellers,” went on Stovall.
Walking to the center of the room he began to give an exhibition of
“the draw.” From almost every conceivable position, both on the ground
and standing, the tall, raw-boned Texan showed with what remarkable
rapidity and dexterity a man can draw his pistol and aim.
The boys enthusiastically applauded his efforts.
“Thanks; glad ye like it,” said Stovall, with a broad grin. “Whew!
Maybe I ain’t some hot after all that.”
“Say, Jack, do you chaps have any drills?” asked Tom Clifton.
“Drills?” repeated Stovall. “An’ what for, I’d like to know?”
Captain Braddock, with a laugh at the scorn expressed in the Ranger’s
voice, now excused himself, a proceeding which Dave promptly took
advantage of by starting toward the nearest bench.
“I’m uncommonly tired, fellows,” he explained.
“Drills!” remarked Jack a second time, when all were comfortably
seated. “No siree! An’ why? ’cause no chap ever gits appointed to the
force unless he’s shown beforehand he’s got the goods!”
“How many men are in this company?” asked Bob.
“Besides the cap’n and sergeant, there’s fifteen privates. Altogether
we have four companies o’ Rangers. One quartermaster acts as commissary
an’ paymaster for the whole business.”
“That’s a pretty big job, eh?”
“You can just believe it is. He has to make his accounting to the
adjutant-general of the state. An’ of course the company commanders
send in their reports to him, too. Whenever a detail from a company or
detachment headquarters is forced to be away longer’n twenty-four hours
the cap’n must report the object of the expedition, the reasons for it
and the name of the Ranger in charge.”
“Yes; an’ this company is about as busy as any,” put in Chaney. “You
see, onct in a while, when Mexican bandits find it gettin’ too hot for
’em in their own country they take a little trip over the Rio Grande,
an’ our job is to see that they don’t stay here long.”
“How much authority have you?” asked Tom.
“Enough to make a whole lot of tough characters fight mighty shy of
us,” spoke up Alvin. “The act of the legislature covering our case
speaks of a ‘rangers force for the protection of the frontier against
marauding and thieving parties and for the suppression of lawlessness
and crime throughout the state.’”
“We aid the regular civil authorities,” explained Raulings. “When an
arrest is made the Rangers must convey the prisoner to the county in
whose jurisdiction he was at the time of the commission of the crime.”
“Then sometimes you get a bully chance to see the country,” said Don.
“Yes. I’ve even ridden in real trains while in the discharge of my
duties,” laughed Oscar Chaney.
“What weapons do you carry?” asked Cranny.
“A Winchester rifle and a pistol,” answered Alvin. “They are supplied
to us at cost.”
“But we’ve got to furnish our own horses an’ clothing,” said Raulings.
“Suppose somebody should draw a bead on your nag, and the next minute
he keeled over; what then?” inquired Cranny.
“When a horse is killed in action the state gives another free of
charge.”
“There’s a detachment from this company temporarily located many
miles from here, an’ this bunch is detailed to take a ride over there
to-morrow,” put in Stovall. “We’ll be ridin’ within sight o’ your old
ranch-house early in the morning. Want to come along?”
“I should say so!” declared Cranny, enthusiastically.
“Yes siree,” said Tom.
“We’re off on scoutin’ expeditions all the time,” explained Raulings.
“An’ that means roughin’ it enough to suit anybody. This here one----”
The Ranger stopped suddenly, his eyes roved in the direction of the
captain; then, seeing no movement on the latter’s part he resumed in a
lower tone, “An’ this here one----”
“Oh, pshaw! Man--there isn’t any secret about it,” interrupted Stovall,
impatiently. “Speak up!”
“Yes; fire away!” urged Cranny, the flashing light which so often came
into his eyes now strongly in evidence.
“Wal, rustlers have started up work ag’in! Cattle is gettin’ stole
right an’ left.”
“Rustlers!” broke in Tom, interestedly.
“Yes. An’ the job o’ this here bunch o’ Texas Rangers is to ketch them
fellers or run ’em out o’ the state,” declared Stovall. The lines on
his youthful face became hard and stern. “The ranchmen are mighty
hot about it, too. There’s Colonel Sylvester of the ‘Eagle Pass’
Ranch--some o’ his stock is missin’ an’----”
Cranny Beaumont rose to his feet.
“Fellows!” he exclaimed impressively. “I wonder if we’re going to run
into any excitement!”
“Don’t think of such things, Cranny,” begged Dave. “I’m just longing
for a nice quiet trip.”
“Haven’t you any clues?” asked Bob.
“Nary a one,” responded Jack. “I reckon, though, it’s the work of a
purty well organized band o’ outlaws.”
“An’ to change the subject, boys,” interposed Raulings, “don’t forget
that little job we have on hand for Colonel Sylvester. The last time I
saw him he was all worked-up about that kid.”
Ranger Chaney was the only one who heard this speech, for at that
precise moment all the boys rose to their feet, which, together with
Cranny’s boisterous laughter at some observation of Dave’s, and a
lively rattle of tongues, proved quite sufficient to distract the
others’ attention.
“I reckon he’s skipped from these parts a’ready,” remarked Chaney.
“An’ I reckon he ain’t,” returned the other.
A few minutes later the crowd took leave of the Rangers, promising to
keep a sharp lookout for them on the following morning.
Cranny Beaumont was in a very happy frame of mind. The Tacoma lad had
another interesting subject to occupy his mind just now--the cattle
rustlers. And it would be a mighty strange thing, he thought, if
between them and a visit to the Mexican side of the “Rio Bravo” he
didn’t run into some kind of excitement before his visit to Texas was
over. And excitement to Cranny seemed almost as necessary to existence
as food and drink.