GOOD-BYE TO THE RANGERS
Stopping with a suddenness that sent the horses back on their haunches,
the men made no attempt to draw their weapons. After the first instant
of stunning surprise, they seemed to face the determined-looking
officers with singular calmness.
Carl Alvin’s loud order to halt, uttered in Spanish, was received
in silence, but the moment following, to the astonishment of all,
the benevolent-looking Mexican leader broke out in a hearty peal of
laughter, which was promptly taken up by the others, until the narrow
pass was filled with the echoes of their mirth.
What could it mean? Was it a trick to disarm suspicion, to throw the
policemen off their guard? If so, it had failed. Not a glistening
barrel was lowered.
Carl Alvin, the only Ranger who had a fluent command of the Spanish
language, began to speak. Rapidly he demanded explanations. They were
promptly given by the elderly man, who spoke in the most calm and even
tones, while Carl Alvin listened with a puzzled air which gradually
changed into another suggesting a mingled state of amusement and
elation.
“Well, Alvin,” demanded Sergeant Howell, “what’s the rigmarole all
about?”
“Sergeant,” the Ranger laughed heartily, “I don’t think we have the
right bunch after all. Listen. Here’s his story and it sounds to me
like a straight one.”
“Thunderation! but I shall be glad if he is all right,” almost shouted
Tom. He nodded to the Mexican, who, apparently noticing the lad for the
first time, returned his salute with an air of much astonishment.
In a few words Ranger Alvin related the following tale which was
listened to by all with the most rapt attention.
Formerly the Mexican and his sons, the men who were now accompanying
him, had been prosperous cattlemen. Under the lawless conditions
prevailing in their country a certain band of outlaws had managed to
make away with so many of their cattle that eventually the ranchmen
were practically ruined.
They knew the men responsible for the depredations and swore they would
keep on their trail until justice was meted out to them. Learning by
accident that the band had changed their scene of operations to the
United States side of the Rio, the father crossed the river in an
effort to get on their track. Meanwhile the sons’ investigations in
Mexico had led them to a spot on the shores of the stream where the
cattle had entered their own country. Then the men at last discovered
the pass in the hills which led to the cup-shaped valley. The rest was
easy. They had played the same game on the outlaws that the policemen
had on them, with the result that the band was driven back across the
river into Mexico and handed over to the proper authorities.
Every member of the band was now confined in certain quarters which
would effectually prevent him from giving either the ranchmen or the
Texas Rangers any further trouble for many years to come.
The Mexican said that he and his sons were on their way to the
detachment quarters of the Rangers to report this cheering information
to the authorities.
“Well, well, isn’t the Rambler Club always running into the most
remarkable things!” cried Tom; “eh, fellows?”
“No truer words ever spoken, Tom,” yawned Dave, “but really I must go
back now to see if I can’t get another as uncommonly comfortable nap as
the one I was having when this little excitement began!”
* * * * *
Once more in the little frontier town in Texas the crowd met Cranny
Beaumont--a new Cranny--one they had never known before. They were
amazed and delighted. Yes, actually the Tacoma lad was hard at work; it
didn’t really seem possible.
Cranny didn’t intend to be a failure. Little things in life sometimes
turn the scale. The Tacoma lad’s meeting with Ralph Edmunds had been
the means of calling his attention to a line of work which thoroughly
appealed to him--that of corresponding for the newspapers. To Cranny,
long groping in the dark, it came as a great and welcome surprise. He
was not now the irresponsible Cranny, with no particular plans for the
future, but an earnest Cranny, working with a view and enthusiasm that
augured well for his future.
All the boys including Jimmy Raymond had gathered together in his room.
“Now you know, fellows, the reason why I didn’t go on that trip,” he
said. “Let me show you something!” He flaunted a check in their faces.
“That’s for some Mexican stuff I sold to the syndicate. Mr. Edmunds put
in a good word for me, and say,” it was now the bubbling, joyous Cranny
again who spoke, “I’ve got a whole lot of articles to write on the very
same subject. What do you think of that?”
There was no question of what they thought about it and Cranny smiled
with pleasure.
“Yes, Professor Kent, Parry and Edmunds came through that little
scrimmage all right,” he said, in answer to a question from Bob. “Parry
told me he got some dandy motion-pictures, and say--isn’t this the
greatest piece of luck?”
“What?” asked Sam.
“Why, young ‘Starlight’ was found, and is back in the stable.”
“Fine, fine,” exclaimed Tom enthusiastically. “Say, fellows, hasn’t
this been a great trip?”
“Do we ever have any other kind?” asked Bob, with a smile.
The Books in this Series are:
THE RAMBLER CLUB AFLOAT
THE RAMBLER CLUB’S WINTER CAMP
THE RAMBLER CLUB IN THE MOUNTAINS
THE RAMBLER CLUB ON CIRCLE T RANCH
THE RAMBLER CLUB AMONG THE LUMBERJACKS
THE RAMBLER CLUB’S GOLD MINE
THE RAMBLER CLUB’S AEROPLANE
THE RAMBLER CLUB’S HOUSEBOAT
THE RAMBLER CLUB’S MOTOR CAR
THE RAMBLER CLUB’S BALL NINE
THE RAMBLER CLUB WITH THE NORTHWEST MOUNTED
THE RAMBLER CLUB’S FOOTBALL TEAM
THE RAMBLER CLUB’S MOTOR YACHT
THE RAMBLER CLUB ON THE TEXAS BORDER
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:
Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.
Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.