THE CAPTAIN PLAYS A TRICK.
All at once, as they reached a part of the canyon where it narrowed
into a mere defile, something came rattling down the side of the
steep wall to the right. It was a dislodged pebble, but it caused the
advancing corps to look up swiftly.
Above them, outlined against the sky, were several figures,—those
undoubtedly of the men of whom they were in search. As they were still
looking upward, the men on the cliff summit began to pump down lead,
the bullets singing and droning and pattering about them like a leaden
hail storm.
“Hot work,” grunted Pete, noting with enthusiasm the absolute
collectedness of the leader of the Rangers. He gave a sharp command
and his men swung into single file and pulled their ponies over till
they were riding so close to the rock wall of the canyon that it was
necessary for the riders to throw one leg up on the saddle. This made
it impossible for the marksmen on the summit to pick them off, for the
cliff hung outward a little.
“As I thought, the rascals were prepared for us,” said the young
officer, “how far is it now, Senor Coyote, to the camp?”
“Ten minutes should bring us thar,—ah!”
A big rock hurled from above struck the ground in front of and a little
to one side of the advancing cavalcade. It split to pieces from the
force of its impact.
“If that had hit anyone his troubles would hev bin over,” snorted Pete
without turning a hair.
Jack paled a little, though. In a few seconds they would reach a part
of the canyon where they could no longer crowd in under the slightly
overhanging cliff. At this point they would be exposed to the full fury
of any rifle fire or stone volley which the brigands above might pour
down on them.
But the officer of the Rangers had, it seemed, anticipated this. He
ordered one of his men to dismount and remove his regimentals. This
done, the empty garments were filled with brush and leaves, and the
sombrero was tied securely to the upper part of the dummy, which, at a
distance, and particularly from above, would resemble pretty closely a
real man.
The dummy was then mounted on a pony, a lame animal and not good for
much. After its “rider” had been securely fastened in place, the
pony was given a couple of whacks with the Rangers’ long quirts, and
frenzied with excitement it plunged forward.
These operations had all been carried on in the shadow of the
overhanging cliff, and those above had no knowledge of the trick that
was to be played on them till they saw the apparently daring rider
suddenly dash from the shelter. Instantly a volley of rifle shots was
poured down upon the dummy, and a veritable avalanche of mighty rocks
and boulders were hurled downward. The luckless pony galloped bravely
down through this inferno of bullets and missiles, only to have its
life exterminated by a quick-killing bullet after about five minutes of
flight.
“Now, senors!”
The young officer, his eyes aflame, dashed forward, followed by
his Rangers and our adventurers. The Ranger, whose pony had been
sacrificed, was carried on the back of another trooper’s saddle. In a
minute they were in the open and a howl of fury from above testified
how thoroughly the outlaws had been tricked. Their fire had been drawn
and they had exhausted the available supply of large rocks on the dummy!
As the column dashed across the unprotected space, a scattering fire
whistled about them, but no more injury than a few punctured saddles
and a damaged hat or two was done. The next instant the cavalcade swept
out of the canyon and into the small plateau where the camp of the
night before had been made.
A delighted shout burst from Jack’s lips, and was echoed instantly by
Coyote Pete as they perceived, still tied and bound, their companions
in adventure. A feeble cry answered them, and an instant later the
reunited party was furiously shaking hands, slapping backs and jumping
about in a thousand ecstatic antics, while the Rangers looked on,
shrugging their shoulders at the mad Gringoes, and rolling cigarettes.
“Shall we pursue the outlaws?” asked Jack, after the first transports
were over and comparative quiet had settled down.
The officer shook his head.
“It would be useless now. We have scattered them and let us hope that
we have heard the last of them. It will be my duty, however, to keep a
constant lookout for them.”
To the boys’ delight, their stolen stock was all there, too. Firewater
whinnied delightedly as he saw his young master, and even the burros
seemed to take part in the general rejoicing. While the brigands had
made some inroads on the boys’ provisions, there still remained enough
food to last them, with care, on the remainder of their dash for the
Trembling Mountain.
After the tension of the last few hours it was delightful to feel a
sense of security once more. Their enemies were scattered and it was
unlikely that the band would attempt any more high-handed methods.
Should they do so, however, it would be too late, for before they set
forward on the last stage of their journey the adventurers arranged
with the captain to meet him and his Rangers at a spot near the
Trembling Mountain in three days’ time.
The young officer willingly agreed, but expressed some curiosity as
to the nature of their quest. He was informed that the object of the
expedition was a scientific one, to investigate the reports of the
relics of a forgotten race that lay within the bowels of the mountain.
Jack parted with the Rangers with regret. He had come to admire them
for their dash, courage and resource. They were ideal troops for the
rough country they patrolled and kept in order by rough and ready
methods. The young officer, too, felt much regard for Senor Jack, as he
called him.
So a few hours after the reunion in the outlaws’ abandoned camp, the
two parties set out in different directions. The Rangers followed the
course they assumed that Ramon had taken in his flight, while our
adventurers struck out for the smoking peaks which were now much nearer
than when they had had their first sight of them. They traveled the
rest of that day at a good speed, and sunset found them camped in a
pleasant little valley where the broad-fronded banana tree grew, whose
fruit afforded a welcome addition to their menu.
The next day, at noon, the professor, after making an observation,
announced that they were then within a few hours’ travel of the
Trembling Mountain. This announcement was, in fact, hardly necessary,
for all day a mighty peak, from whose snow-covered summit there issued
a lazy roll of smoke, had overshadowed their way. Everybody guessed
that the frowning acclivity was the mountain for which they had come so
far in quest.
Late afternoon brought them to its base, and with his measuring
instruments the professor, an hour after camp had been pitched, located
the entrance which no other American, assuredly, had ever passed. Their
pulses beat swift and hard, as the lads and Coyote followed the old man
over the rock-strewn slopes to the spot.
Amid a grove of dark, sombre trees,—somehow suggesting a sacrificial
grove,—lay the entrance to the Trembling Mountain. All felt a sense
of mystical awe as they stood in the solemn shadows. It was as if they
had come under the spell of some tremendous brooding presence. Quite
unconsciously they spoke in whispers.
It was the same feeling that overcomes one in the aisle of some mighty
cathedral. As if to accentuate the similarity of impression, the wind
sighing softly in the dark, dome-shaped trees, sounded like a solemn
chant, now high and tremulous, now low in a rumbling diapason that
thrilled.