A SURPRISE
Let us now return to Jo to keep him company during the absence of his
brethren and companion-in-arms. He sat down by the fire on a rock with
his legs stretched out before him, for he was rather tired, and his
hands clasped back of his head. All about him were the shadows of the
trees, but he was perfectly at his ease, though it would have been
lonesome enough if he had not known that the rest of the gang was
near.
Still it would have been better if he had kept closer watch, for
already the Frontier Boys had received warning that they were being
trailed, and Jo should have seated himself in the door of the tent so
that his back would have been protected, and he would have had the
benefit of the fire just the same. He likewise naturally trusted to
Jeems' shepherd dog to give him warning. The dog lay near the front
of the tent with his nose over his paws and his brown eyes blinking
toward the blaze.
It was his presence that saved Jo at this time, nothing else. Shep
jumped to his feet with a growl that grated along his back teeth, a
growl that meant business and serious business, too.
Let us see what was the cause of Shep's alarm. Just a little after the
boys had left the hill to take the horses to water, the figure of a
man could be seen coming stealthily out of the shadow of the pines
upon the slope.
He maneuvered so that the hill was between him and Skipper Jim's
party, then he stood straight up and walked stealthily and carefully,
but nevertheless swiftly, towards the camp. The man had made a slight
miscalculation, for he supposed that the camp was deserted and that he
could take what he wanted and destroy the rest before the boys could
return. A crooked smile came over his face as he made his evil plans.
He would go through the camp, take what was valuable, throw what he
could not use on the campfire and as a last touch he would set fire to
the tent.
Then as the tenderfeet came rushing back filled with anger and fear at
the sight of the burning tent, he would easily make his escape through
the darkness to the protection of the mountains, where these boys
would never get him. He would have, too, his booty, which he would
hide in a cave he knew of, so that he would not have to divide with
his gang. It was a beautiful plan and it appealed to him in several
ways.
"Those American pigs," he said, "they think through their snouts. They
do not know enough to guard their camp in this country."
But as we know, there was something of a surprise in store for this
enterprising gentleman. It is evident that he was not the same fellow
that Juarez had detected skulking in the woods that morning, for this
was a Mexican who was stalking the boys' camp. He came swiftly through
the grass, with a silence born of custom. It was well for him that he
did, else Jo would have been on his trail in a minute.
The Greaser, for such he deserves to be called, went cautiously up
the slope of the hill, following a small depression which was a
watercourse during the rainstorms. When he got within two-thirds of
the top, he stopped as though he had been struck, for there was the
figure of Jo seated on the rock between him and the fire. For a second
his jaw dropped and his eyes opened wide. Then his cunning ferocity
came to him.
A tall bush and several trees intervened between him and Jo, utterly
unconscious of his danger. Without a sound he crawled along, his
poniard gripped between the gleam of his strong white teeth, which
gave him a snarling and sinister appearance. His plan was evident. He
did not dare to risk a shot, for that would give the alarm and he
would have no chance for loot.
Meanwhile, Jo continued entirely unconscious of the treacherous
approach of this unseen foe. Jo was not thinking of any danger and
his mind was far away on an excursion of its own, dreaming of the far
corners of the earth to which they would sail, if by good fortune
they found the treasure of the Lost Mine.
But Jo was in an ace of taking a longer journey than any that he was
at that moment dreaming of. The Mexican had got almost within striking
distance of Jo and had risen to his feet, not seeing the dog, and was
just drawing back his arm to throw the fatal knife when Shep gave his
growl of warning at the figure he saw in the shadow back of his
master.
If Jo had been careless before he made up for it now. His experience
stood him in good stead, for instead of rising to his feet to confront
the danger as a tenderfoot would have done, he dropped down behind the
rock as quickly as a pugilist ducks his opponent's lead. It was all
that saved him. "Swish" swept the knife with a flash of steel through
the air, where Jo's body had been the second before. Jo's pistol was
in the tent on a box, but his hand, as he dropped, touched a stone.
The reader perhaps remembers what an accurate shot Jo was with a ball
or rock. If his memory goes back far enough he will recall what Jo did
to the Apache when he was trying to sneak up on the boys' fort in New
Mexico.
As soon as the Mexican saw that he had missed his aim, he started
to run. Jo saw his dark form a few feet away and hurled the rock,
striking him behind the left shoulder and half knocking him down. Jo,
the fleet of foot, was upon him in a couple of bounds, and now a
furious struggle ensued between Jo and the Mexican. The Greaser was
strong and wiry, also very desperate. Once he had Jo nearly gone, as
he threw him to his knees, and put his weight upon his back to crush
him down.
With a quick shift Jo got to his feet again, and the struggle was
renewed. Jo finally got his man near a rock that stood up a foot and
a half above the ground. Exerting all of his lithe strength he shoved
him back so that his heels struck the rock. As the man toppled, Jo
threw his whole weight against him, and back he went with tremendous
force, striking his head against a pine tree.
This laid the Greaser out and Jo, panting heavily, dragged him into
the firelight and in a minute more had him tied securely. Then he sat
down on a rock, breathing hard, just as the voices of the returning
boys could be heard at the foot of the hill as they were bringing in
the horses. Jo said nothing, but sat quietly, knowing how surprised
the boys would be to see this new addition to the family circle.
"Didn't see any wild Injuns, did you, Jo?" It was Jim's cheery voice.
"Narry Injun," replied Jo. Just then Caliente began to act up, surging
around with his ears back and plunging to get away from Jim. Either he
saw the Mexican or suspected his presence.
"Whoa, you Tiger!" cried Jim, but he had quite a tussle with him
before he got him subdued. Even then Caliente kept snorting at
intervals, with his nostrils dilating. Then the boys came toward the
campfire from the shadow of the trees. Meanwhile Jo had thrown a
blanket over the inert form of the Mexican, and he looked like an
irregular log of wood.
Perhaps this was not a very gallant way to treat one's fallen foe,
but you are not apt to feel very kindly towards a man who has just
tried to throw a knife into your back. So Jo did not care much if he
was sat upon and used for a sofa. This particular log was placed
convenient to the fire.
"You look rather rumpled and pale, Jo," grinned Jim. "Did a hoot owl
scare you while we were gone?"
"I bet Jo was hiding in the tent," jeered Tom, "with his head in the
blankets."
Jo looked kind of sheepish and very red in the face. It was evident
that he was struggling with some hidden emotion. Jim started to sit
down upon the convenient log, and Tom likewise, the latter growling:
"You always try to get the best of everything."
Then they sat down upon the supposed log. To their utter surprise and
ultimate horror, the log began to twist and turn.
"Whoopee!" yelled Tom, leaping six feet, it seemed, into the air,
"it's a snake!" Jim rose more slowly, but very pale. He was deeply
moved, not to say frightened. "Sancte Maria, Sancte Sebastina!" seemed
the words issuing from the muffled folds of the blanket. Jim tore it
off and there was the Mexican whom Jo had had the round-up with.
"What!" cried Jim; "who is this?" Jeems' head was now looking between
the flaps of the tent, into which he had dived headfirst when the log
came to life.
"It's one of the gang that has been trailing us," cried Jeems.
Jo was rolling around in paroxysms of laughter.
"Whoopee!" he cried in imitation of brother Tom, "it's a snake," then
he went off into another fit.
"You durned idiot," yelled the incensed Tom, "shut up laughing. I
guess that fellow is a snake. You might have scared me into breaking
a blood vessel."
"I came near scaring you into breaking the record for the high jump,"
panted Jo, weak from laughter.
"But where did you capture this specimen, Jo?" asked Jim with a quiet
smile. To tell the truth he was somewhat chagrined, for he could not
deny even to himself that he had been badly frightened by Jo's trick.
"Look a here, boys," cried Jeems, "here is where a knife has gone
clean through the corner of this tent."
"Sure enough," agreed Jim, examining the cut in the canvas.
"Here's the weapon," said Juarez, who was quick to follow up a trail
of any kind. He brought the dagger to the firelight, and they looked
at it with interest. It had a very keen blade, sharp-pointed and two
edged. The handle was richly engraved and of silver.
"How is this, Jo?" inquired Jim. "Tell us the whole story even if it
implicates your friend here, the human log." There was a grim quality
in Jim's voice which made the Mexican roll his eyes viciously.