A RACE IN THE DARK.
It seemed to Frank that while he was falling he lost his senses. When
he came to himself, he was sitting on the ground about ten feet from
the wall, the Don was lying motionless by his side, and the Mexican,
with whom Frank expected to have a desperate fight, or a
hotly-contested foot-race, was kneeling upon him and holding him down.
More than that, a huge door in the wall of the rancho--the same one
through which the horsemen had disappeared a few minutes before--had
been thrown open; the light of a locomotive lamp was streaming out;
and a crowd of mounted men, all armed to the teeth, were charging up
the bank with furious yells. Frank gazed at them with mouth and eyes
wide open; and so bewildered was he, that the Mexican, if he had felt
so inclined, might have bound him hand and foot without the least
difficulty. But it was plain that he was not there for that purpose;
he was devoting himself entirely to Don Carlos.
“That was well done, Master Frank,” said he, as he passed his sash
around the chiefs arms. “But there’s going to be a fight here, and you
had better get out of the way.”
It was Carlos who spoke, and his words brought Frank to his feet
immediately. He understood it all now. The men, who were pouring
through the door into the rancho, were the settlers, who had come
there to rescue him and Archie. Frank, however, was not disposed to
run away because there was going to be a fight. A dozen or two men, at
least, would be killed or wounded, and his cousin might be one of the
number, unless he was immediately liberated. The last Frank saw of
him, he was struggling in the grasp of a powerful Mexican, who had
thrown him upon the roof, and was holding his hands behind his back,
while a companion was getting ready to bind him. And there were
Roderick and King James to be looked after, too. During the confusion
some of the robbers might make off with them, and that would be a
misfortune indeed. Frank thought of all these things, and to the utter
amazement of Carlos, pulled his revolver from his pocket, and followed
the settlers into the rancho.
When he reached the door he stopped, astonished at the scene presented
to his view. The court was filled with men, some on foot, and some on
horseback; rifles and pistols were cracking in every direction; knives
were flashing in the air; and the din that arose was almost deafening.
One thing Frank noticed immediately, and that was, that the fight was
not so much of a fight after all. The robbers, taken by surprise, and
alarmed at the numbers and determination of the attacking party, did
not stop to resist, but made every exertion to escape. Some, of
course, succeeded; while others were pulled down by lassos, and bound
hand and foot before they could realize what was going on.
Frank stood at the door but a moment, but that was long enough for a
friend of his to find and recognize him. It was Marmion. The dog
jumped upon him with every demonstration of joy, and then turned and
attacked the first man he came to, who happened to be none other than
Carlos. The latter had taken care of his prisoner, and was hurrying in
to assist the settlers. Marmion discovered his mistake after he had
bitten the Ranchero, but did not seem to be sorry for it. He, no
doubt, considered it his duty to bite somebody, and it made little
difference to him who it was. He afterward had an opportunity to try
his teeth upon an old enemy of his, and he made the most of it.
Frank’s first care was to look around for Archie. He was not in sight,
but something else was. Roderick was standing near the middle of the
court, and one of the robbers had just grasped the bridle, preparatory
to springing upon his back. There was not a single instant to be lost.
That man must not be allowed to mount the horse, for, if he once got
fairly into the saddle, he would go out of the court with the speed of
the wind, and that would be the last of Roderick. Frank bounded
forward, discharging his revolver at the robber as he ran; but,
although the man looked around to see where the bullet came from, he
was not frightened from his purpose. His leg was already over the
saddle, and Roderick was beginning to move.
“Stop, there!” yelled Frank, who was so close to the horse that he
could almost seize him by the tail. “Stop, I say!”
The noise in the court was so great that he could scarcely hear his
own voice. The Mexican did not hear it, and it is not probable that he
would have paid any attention to it if he had. The revolver cracked
once more, but something made Frank’s hand unsteady, and the bullet
went wide of the mark. Roderick was certainly lost to him. Again and
again the six-shooter spoke in decided tones, until the last load was
discharged; and still the robber rode on. With a cry of impatience
Frank dashed the now useless weapon to the ground, and, scarcely
knowing what he was doing, started in hot pursuit of the mustang; but
Marmion, his friend and ally, was swifter than he, and now beginning
to understand that the Mexican ought to be stopped, he ran up beside
the horse, bounded into the air, seized the man by the shoulder, and
pulled him from the saddle in a twinkling.
The wild Indian yell to which Frank gave utterance as he witnessed
this proceeding, would have done credit to Dick Lewis himself. He did
not stop to see what Marmion was going to do with the robber, but kept
on after the mustang, which he now believed would make straight for
the gate. Roderick, however, seemed to be in no hurry to leave the
rancho; nor was he frightened by the noise and confusion around him.
On the contrary, he appeared to enjoy it. He arched his neck, laid
back his ears, and pranced about among the excited, struggling men as
though he were in his natural element; but, being well-trained and
obedient, he stopped when his master succeeded in making him hear his
voice, and in a few seconds more Frank was safe in the saddle. How
proud the boy was then! He was not afraid of Don Carlos’ whole band.
“Hurrah for me!” he shouted. “I am all right now. I’d like to see
somebody try to take you away from me again, old fellow. Hallo,
here!”
A horse interrupted Frank’s soliloquy--a little black horse, which
galloped by almost within reach of him, and disappeared in the
darkness outside the gate. He was in sight long enough for Frank to
see that he carried two men on his back, one being seated in the
saddle, and the other hanging helplessly across the pommel. The horse
was King James; the man in the saddle was Pierre Costello; and the
other was Archie Winters.
The cousins had left Pierre bound hand and foot in one of the
underground rooms of the rancho; but he did not remain there long, for
the herdsmen, from whom the boys had so narrowly escaped, soon cut
down the door and released him. Pierre explained matters in a few
words, by saying that the boys had taken him unawares, and made a
prisoner of him; but he forgot to mention the fact that they had
caught him almost in the act of murdering Don Carlos.
Pierre, finding himself once more at liberty, ran frantically about
the rancho, up stairs and down, searching every-where for the boys. He
found one of them at last, and it was Archie, who had been captured on
the roof of the wing, and was being carried below. From the men who
had him in charge, Pierre learned that Frank had again escaped, and
that the Don had been pulled over the parapet. He was greatly excited
over the news. He did not give a second thought to the old Spaniard’s
misfortune--he did not care if the fall had broken his neck--but he
was highly disgusted and enraged to learn that Frank had once more
slipped through his fingers. He assisted his companions in disposing
of their prisoner, and, when the latter had been locked up, Pierre
managed to retain possession of the keys. It was his intention to go
out with the others, and assist in recapturing Frank; but if that
could not be done--if Frank succeeded in eluding them--he would take
Archie to the mountains in his place. Pierre thought this a decided
improvement on his old programme. Archie was not so large and strong
as his cousin, and consequently he could be more easily managed. He
would also bring the same amount of money in the shape of a ransom.
Pierre hurried to the court, and, when he arrived there, what was his
amazement to find it filled with settlers! He did not stop to take a
second look, but returned with all possible haste to the room in which
Archie was confined. Lifting him in his arms as if he had been an
infant, Pierre ran back to the court, and the first object that met
his eyes was Archie’s horse. To his infinite delight the animal did
not attempt to elude him; and when he had swung himself into the
saddle, and pulled his prisoner up in front of him, he began to
believe that his plans might, after all, prove successful. There was
only one person in all that crowd who saw him as he dashed through the
gate, and that was Frank Nelson. Pierre knew that some one was
watching him, for he heard a loud command to halt, followed by the
angry bark of a dog, and a clatter of hoofs behind him. He looked over
his shoulder, and began to lose heart again. He knew, if Archie did
not, that Roderick was a better horse than the one he was riding; and
that as long as Marmion was on his trail, he could not hope to elude
his pursuer. But he did not stop. He kept straight on toward the
woods, and a few rods behind him came the swift mustang, bounding
along as easily as though he had been furnished with wings.
During the race that followed, nothing but the clatter of the horses’
hoofs, and an occasional angry yelp from Marmion, broke the stillness
of the night. Across the prairie went pursuer and pursued at furious
speed, into the woods, over logs and rocks, up hill and down, through
darkness so intense that one could scarcely see his hand before him,
and finally Frank began to wonder at the endurance exhibited by the
little black under his double load. But the furious pace was telling
on him, and with all the whipping and spurring he received, he could
not prevent the mustang from overtaking him. Pierre saw this, and
hastily drawing rein, prepared to carry out a plan he had determined
upon.
“Stop where you are!” he exclaimed, in a most savage tone of voice.
“If you advance another step”----
The robber was about to say that if Frank came any nearer he would
bury his knife in Archie’s body; but Marmion did not give him time to
finish the sentence. He sprang straight at his throat, and, before
Pierre could think of resistance, he was flat on the ground.
“Hold fast to him, old fellow!” shouted Frank, dismounting from his
horse. “That makes amends for the cowardly manner in which you
deserted me this morning. Archie, where are you?”
“Here’s all that’s left of me,” replied a faint voice. “O, my head!”
groaned Archie, as Frank knelt down by his side, and cut the ropes
with which he was bound. “There’s no fun in being carried with
railroad speed through a thick woods on a dark night like this. But I
want you to understand one thing: That wasn’t a fair race, because my
horse had a double load to carry.”
Frank had been astonished a good many times that night, but he was
utterly amazed, now. Here was Archie, who was aching in every limb,
and bleeding profusely from the wounds he had received during his
rapid ride through the woods--who, during the last few hours, had been
the hero of more hair-breadth escapes than had ever before fallen to
the lot of a boy of his age--who had but just been delivered from the
power of a reckless and determined foe--here he was talking about the
speed of his horse, and declaring that the race the animal had just
run was not a fair test of his abilities!
“This is a pretty time to talk about such things, isn’t it?” asked
Frank. “I suppose you hoped that Roderick would be beaten, didn’t
you?”
“I can’t say that I did,” replied Archie, as his cousin lifted him to
his feet; “but I could not help telling myself that if Pierre wanted
to save himself, all he had to do was to drop me overboard, and he
would leave you behind so rapidly that you would never boast of
Roderick’s speed again.”
(We may here remark that the question of the relative merits of the
two horses remained for a long time undecided; but still it was
settled, at last, and to the satisfaction of both the boys. It was an
exciting race, and a long one; and the history of it shall be given in
its proper place.)
Archie, in spite of his wounds and bruises, was as lively and plucky
as ever. One desire was uppermost in his mind, now, and that was to
effect the capture of the robber; but he need not have troubled
himself on that score, for Pierre had already been secured. When the
cousins reached the place where he was lying, they found him
motionless and helpless, Marmion’s powerful jaws being closed upon his
throat. The dog barked and whined furiously when compelled to let go
his hold, and it was all his master could do to prevent him from again
attacking his enemy.
“Santa Maria!” gasped the robber, when he found himself free from the
teeth of the dog.
“That’s what I say,” exclaimed Archie, who, having removed Pierre’s
sash from his waist, proceeded to confine his hands and feet. “I think
you are at the end of your rope now, my hearty. You may make up your
mind to start for your old quarters at San Diego, to-morrow morning,
by the early train. What shall we do with him?”
“We’ll leave him here until we can procure assistance, and come back
for him,” replied Frank. “Now, let’s start for home.”
But for one thing, Frank and Archie would have been two of the
happiest boys that ever existed. Their wounds, their aching bones, the
dangers they had passed through, were all forgotten in the joy they
felt at finding themselves once more in undisputed possession of their
long-lost horses. They had much to talk about as they rode toward the
rancho. Archie told Frank what had happened to him during his short
captivity, and plumed himself on having been in the very midst of his
enemies for more than seven hours (it was then long after midnight),
and having made one prisoner alone and unaided, and assisted in
capturing two more before he fell into the hands of his enemies. As
for the misfortune that had befallen their old friend Dick Lewis,
Archie declared that it did not trouble him in the least, for he knew
his cousin had been mistaken; and Frank, ready to catch at straws,
said he certainly hoped it would turn out so.
After a fifteen minutes’ ride, the boys once more found themselves in
the rancho, and this time with no fear of being made prisoners. The
fight was over, and the settlers were in full possession of the
robbers’ stronghold. They were in a state of great excitement and
alarm, however, for they had ransacked the building from top to
bottom, without discovering any signs of Frank and Archie; and they
were on the point of abandoning the search in despair, when the boys
appeared. The settlers crowded about them as they rode into the court,
shook them warmly by the hand, asked them a multitude of questions,
and cheered them uproariously. Presently, two tall fellows, dressed in
Mexican costume, and carrying long rifles in their hands, elbowed
their way through the crowd. One was old Bob Kelly--the cousins would
have recognized his long, white beard any where--but who was the
other? They had seen those broad shoulders and that rifle before, but
they could not tell who the man was, for his face was so badly
battered and scarred that his own mother, if she had been there, would
not have known him. He did not offer to shake hands with the boys, but
dropped the butt of his rifle to the ground, clasped his fingers over
the muzzle of the weapon, and said:
“You amazin’ keerless fellers! I knowed this mornin’ that it was my
bounden duty to give you a good trouncin’.”
“What did I tell you?” screamed Archie, turning triumphantly to his
cousin, who opened his mouth and eyes, and gazed at the man in stupid
bewilderment.