THE NIGHT WATCH
Mr. Ryder’s prediction came true. It was not two days later when a half
dozen peons appeared on the edge of the forest and occupied their time
shooting out the windows in the workmen’s cottages and sending leaden
greetings to any one who appeared out of doors. They remained in their
positions until the soldiers mounted a light machine gun in the window of
the barracks house and poured a rain of steel-jacketed bullets in their
direction. But José Cerro’s followers were not the only ones who were
made bold by the withdrawal of the troops. The traitor inside the power
plant became active too.
One evening while Jack and Mr. Ryder were partaking of one of Tom Why’s
elaborate meals, Phil Underwood, the young American whose duty it was to
take care of the huge searchlight, rushed into the dining room.
“Mr. Ryder,” he exclaimed with a savage note in his voice, “there’s a
peon in Necaxa I’d like to lay hands on. He’s that blasted sympathizer.
If I knew who he was I’d choke him to death. What do you think he’s done
now to help that bunch of cutthroats out there in the mountain? He’s put
the big searchlight out of business! He’s wrecked the entire outfit and
there isn’t a place this side of New York where we can get the broken
parts replaced! It looks as if we were up against it for sure.”
The engineer looked thoroughly worried.
“When did it happen?” he demanded.
“The light was all right up to dawn this morning. I shut it off promptly
at four o’clock, put the canvas jacket over it and went to bed. When I
tried to start it a few moments ago I found the whole mechanism gone to
smash.”
For a long time Mr. Ryder was silent. His brow was wrinkled and it was
evident to both Phil and Jack that the situation was causing him some
deep thought. Finally he spoke.
“Look here, Phil, this condition is mighty serious and I am at a loss
to know exactly how to proceed. I think the best plan is not to mention
this last piece of treachery. Merely go to Lieutenant Hernandez and
tell him that the searchlight suddenly became out of order and until we
can repair it or make better arrangements he must keep a double guard
along the barricade and the first trench. If we spread the news about
this broadcast we can’t tell what sort of an effect it will have on the
soldiers. Mexicans are a peculiar lot, you know, and for that reason
alone I think it would be far better for us to keep this incident secret.
In the meantime you and Jack and myself can keep a watchful eye on
everything in general and I’ll try to work out a plan for an improvised
searchlight.”
“Very good, sir,” said Phil, as he hurried off to the military barracks.
When the youth had gone Mr. Ryder turned to Jack and said: “I trust you
are still willing to help me in this difficulty, my boy.”
“You’re right I am,” exclaimed Jack enthusiastically, “I am as much
interested as if I were employed here and I’ll do anything I can to be
of assistance.”
“Very well then, Jack, I’ll look to you to do a man’s share of the
watching around here until we can get things straightened out. This
trouble with the searchlight may mean that a night attack is impending. I
purpose doing some guard duty myself to-night and I should like to have
you help me out. Will you?”
“Only tell me what you want of me and I’ll do it without a word of
protest,” said Jack loyally.
“Well, suppose you buckle on your revolver now and start patroling the
village. Keep an eye out for anything that does not look absolutely
normal. At midnight report back to the cottage here and wake me up. I’ll
do my trick between midnight and dawn, for I do not intend that this
traitor shall get in any more of his underhanded work without being
caught at it.”
“That’s a capital scheme,” said the young Vermonter and finishing his
coffee he hurried to his room. There he secured his belt and holster
which he had tossed on his bed an hour previous. Also before he left he
rummaged through his traveling bag until he had located a tiny electric
pocket flash lamp which he had brought with him all the way from
Drueryville. Ten minutes later he was sauntering down the single narrow
street toward the power plant.
Darkness was just coming on as the sentries were changed and the lad
watched the small squad of regulars leave the barracks and take their
places at various points around the tiny village.
“I wonder,” mused the boy, “how many actually keep awake all night? I’ll
warrant half of them find some sheltered spot and go to sleep after
midnight.”
For an hour or two the little community resembled the quarry towns of far
off Vermont to such a degree that Jack actually became a little homesick
as he viewed the scene. Every cottage window glowed with cheerful light
and the day men, free from their tasks for a while, were indulging in the
only sociability Necaxa afforded: that was to gather in twos and threes
on cottage porches and spend the evening in telling stories and smoking.
Now and then some one of these groups would burst forth in songs and what
the tunes lacked in harmony was made up for in the enthusiasm of the
singers. Most of the songs Jack recognized as having been popular back in
the States two years before.
At half past nine the groups began to dwindle, the men going off to their
various cottages. One by one the lights went out and by ten o’clock the
place was in total darkness, save for the lights in the power plant. Jack
felt very lonesome then. Except for the steady grumble of the generators
inside the big gray building, not a sound disturbed the stillness. From
place to place about the village the youth roamed, peering here and there
for signs of trouble. But mostly he watched in the vicinity of the power
plant.
This constant vigil was very tiresome, however, and several times he
paused in a secluded angle of the building and flashed his electric lamp
on the face of his watch. He was thoroughly glad when the hands pointed
out the hour of midnight.
He made one more tour of inspection after that, then started up the
street toward Mr. Ryder’s cottage. He had almost reached his destination
when suddenly his attention was attracted by a gray shadow moving
between two cottages some distance to his left. Jack remembered that
both buildings were occupied by Mexican linemen and his suspicions were
aroused immediately. As softly as a panther he moved across the roadway
and gained the corner of one of the buildings. The shadow still lingered
in the alley and the youth softly slipped his revolver from its holster.
But just as he was on the point of calling to the man to throw up his
hands he became aware of another gray shadow moving about. This one was
coming stealthily up the roadway he had just left and Jack thanked his
lucky stars that he had hidden himself when he did.
It was quite evident to the Vermonter that the two shadows intended to
meet, but in order to accomplish this either one or the other must pass
within six feet of him. For a moment he scarcely knew what to do, for he
realized that he could not handle two men at once.
The man in the alley had paused, but the one in the roadway came forward
softly and swiftly. When he was within fifteen feet of the crouching
youth Jack could see him quite distinctly. He wore a very broad hat and
the tight jacket of a rurale. Of a rurale! Instantly the old Indian
doctor’s story about a rurale with an injured foot flashed upon him! This
must be the man of the scarred heel!
Throwing all caution to the wind, Jack dropped his revolver and leapt
toward the shadowy figure. It was a perfect flying tackle and the man
came down with a crash, his legs pinned tightly together, exactly as
Jack had pinned the legs of many an opposing fullback on the field at
Drueryville.
The attack was so sudden that the man lay stunned for a moment. Then as
if he suddenly realized that it was a human being and not a vice that had
gripped him, the soldier began to struggle. He tried to kick and squirm
his way out of the boy’s arms, at the same time thrashing about with his
fists and cursing lustily in Spanish. He was a big man and exceedingly
powerful and Jack had all that he could do to hold him on the ground.
The lad had the advantage, however, since the native was almost flat
on his stomach. By careful maneuvering and the help of two or three
wrestling holds that are known to every American boy he was soon able to
work himself astride the prostrated one and pin the refractory hands down
as well. This accomplished, the youth began to shout for help at the top
of his voice.
Mr. Ryder was first on the scene. He came running across from his
cottage, a revolver in one hand and an electric flash lamp in the other.
The Mexican linemen came tumbling out of their cottages a few moments
later and immediately after two Mexican regulars arrived, all out of
breath.
“Well, I think we’ve captured our man,” said Jack, panting in his
excitement. “Here, lay hold of this fellow, so I can stand up.”
The soldiers seized the prostrated one but they still kept him pinned
flat on his stomach, in spite of his protests.
“Mr. Ryder,” said Jack, “I think this is the man with the scarred foot.
Turn your light this way until we have a good look at his feet. He hasn’t
any boots on, that’s certain, for he moved about like a cat.”
Hurriedly the engineer turned the light on the native’s naked feet and
there, standing out plainly in spite of the dirt and dust, was a long
scar that extended across the heel and partly up the side of his foot
toward the ankle. The wound looked exactly as if the man had at one time
stepped on a very sharp stone that had laid the flesh open to the bone.
“By George, you’re right! He’s our man!” exclaimed the engineer
jubilantly. Then to the soldiers in Spanish he said:
“Hustle him off to the guardhouse, men, and put a double watch over him,
for he’s a traitor. I’ll pay a peso a day to the men who watch him, but
I’ll have the scoundrel shot who lets him get away.”
Without any ceremony the regulars jerked the big man to his feet and
marched him off down the street, Mr. Ryder and Jack following directly
behind with their revolvers cocked and ready for action. But the heavy
door to the prison pen had hardly been bolted behind the rurale when
the town was aroused by another sensation. From down along the line of
barbed wire fence came the sharp report of a rifle. The first report was
followed by two others in quick succession.
“What is it! An attack!” gasped Jack as he rushed forward with Mr. Ryder.
The sound of firing aroused every man in the camp and in an instant
half-clad soldiers and workmen came tumbling from barracks hall and
cottage.
“An attack! an attack!” was the cry they all uttered as they hurried into
the trenches.
But after the third shot the sentry’s guns were silent so long that Mr.
Ryder and Jack and Lieutenant Hernandez and Captain Alvarez went to
investigate.
“What was the trouble?” they demanded of the first soldier they met.
“Shadows came along the fence. Three, four, five of them all came to try
and cut the wire. One dropped this,” said the sentry as he held up an
ugly looking _machette_.
“That’s mighty bad news,” said Mr. Ryder, “for it looks to me as if the
rebels are planning an attack. But we’ll fix these wire cutters to-morrow
night. In the meantime you fellows keep awake and on the lookout until
dawn.”
But when the news of the shadowy wire cutters was spread about among
the men there was little need for extra vigilance on the part of
the sentries, for every man in the village stayed up until daylight
discussing the possibilities of an attack. Indeed, the sun was just
rising as Jack and Mr. Ryder turned in for some much-needed sleep.