“Get up and get him!” commanded one of the three, in tolerable English,
as Case reached the shore. “We’ll have to take him, too!”
One of the others replied angrily, but neither of them moved. It was
evident that the three were suspicious of each other, and that neither
of them cared to lose sight of the boy who was believed to have the
stolen money.
They could not trust each other even to the extent of removing the money
from the boy who was supposed to carry it. Each one thought the boy’s
waist a more desirable place for the cash than the hands of either of
his companions!
The Mexican who had spoken in English turned to Alex with a malicious
grin on his dusky, dirty, greasy face.
“Call him here!” he commanded, pointing to Case, now turning off down
the river and looking sharply about for the boys.
“I won’t!” replied the boy. “I’m not going to help you get him! I hope
he’ll turn around and shoot you up! You let him alone!”
The other’s eyes blazed angrily and he leveled his revolver at Case, who
was still increasing the distance between himself and the boys.
“Very well,” the Mexican said. “We can’t permit him to spy about the
country. If you won’t call him to you, I’ll shoot him where he stands.
I’ll give you while you count ten to decide.”
This put a different complexion on the situation. Alex hesitated only a
second. He had every reason to believe that the Mexican would keep his
word regarding the suggested murder of Case. He looked vicious enough to
commit any crime, even that of shooting a boy in the back. If taken
prisoner, Case might still stand a chance of getting away, while if
deliberately shot down that would be the end of all things for him.
“Say, Case” the boy cried out, then. “Come on over here. I’ve got
something to show you. Hurry up!”
Case turned about and ran toward the sheltered spot where the men lay
with their prisoners. The boy’s face was wreathed with smiles, for he
had been more than anxious about Alex. The Mexican’s evil eyes lighted
up wickedly as the boy came up to his chums, looking suspiciously at the
Mexicans as he advanced.
There were no weapons in sight, and so Case’s suspicions passed away in
a measure, and he sat down by Alex’s side, his eyes fixed inquiringly on
the others, and especially on Don Durand, the boy King had described as
such a desperado. A bulging pocket at once caught the attention of the
Mexican who had ordered Alex to call the lad into captivity.
“Stand up!” he ordered. “Stand up and throw out those guns!”
Case threw a hand behind his back, but before he could draw the other
had him covered. Case stood up and dropped his automatics to the sand.
Then he turned a scornful eye on Alex, who sat chuckling as if he
considered it all a great joke.
“You’re a fine chum!” he said. “Turned pirate, have you?”
“Of course!” Alex returned. “I’ve got a choice collection of pirates
here. Ever see any alleged human beings who would fit an electric chair
any better than these three? They make a nice flock of jailbirds, don’t
they?”
“Is that what you called me over here for?” asked Case. “To say that?”
“I called you over here,” was the reply, “to keep a procession of
bullets out of your back. I’d rather have you here alive than out on the
sands dead! This other chap is Don Durand,” he continued, making the
introduction with a chuckle at the absurdity of the situation.
“I’ve heard of him,” Case answered. “King told me about the money he
stole. King will soon be down after him!”
“So!” exclaimed the Mexican. “You think he’ll come after the boy? That
is good news, but he needn’t to take the pains! As soon as we pluck the
kid we’ll send him up to King. What, fellows?” he added, turning to his
sullen companions with a provoking sneer on his hard face.
The two men nodded, but made no verbal reply to the question.
“Your friends seem to be afflicted with the mollygrubs!” Alex said,
turning to the spokesman of the party. “Perhaps they’ve been eating
something that doesn’t agree with them! Yes? No? What?”
“You seem to be a bright boy!” scowled the other.
“That’s the correct answer!” laughed Alex. “Why don’t you go on up to
the motor boat and get King? He’s looking for you.”
“I’m not looking for him,” was the sullen reply. “I’m waiting for him to
go away, then I’ll make myself scarce—him and his minions!”
Case now began to understand the situation. He had heard King say that
Don Durand carried about with him the money he had stolen. He knew that
King’s paid assistants had deserted him in order to get the money for
themselves if they could. What he saw now, was that these Mexicans had
originally been in the employ of the deputy, and that they had succeeded
in getting the boy where King had failed. Still, he could not account
for Alex’s being there with Don.
“King is going to remain here until he gets his prisoner,” he said,
presently, glancing at Don. “He wants that reward,” he continued, “and
is likely to get it, too, for all of you fellows!”
“He may have the reward,” snarled the Mexican, glancing at the boy
angrily, as if ready to punish him for speaking without permission. “He
may have the reward. All we want is the stolen money!”
“I hope it will burn up before you touch it!” Alex cut in.
“It is hot enough here to burn most anything!” Case observed.
“You see,” Alex commented, turning to Case, “what a fine, honest bunch I
butted into when I followed Don off the rear deck of the boat! This lad,
Don Durand, is a prince compared with the three Mexicans.”
The spokesman scowled fiercely, but the boy went on, taking a savage
delight in making at least one of his captors show temper.
“These three,” Alex added, swinging a hand around the circle of dusky
faces, “are the—the—well, they are the limit! They want to steal the
cash from the boy who stole it from the man who stole it from another
man! When they get it, if they ever do, they will fight over it—and this
Englishman, or the person who speaks English, will murder his companions
and take it all. It is a fine flock of jailbirds!”
The Mexican addressed a few angry words to a companion, and the latter
arose and moved toward Alex with a long grass rope. The boy sprang away,
but there was the ever-present revolver and the threatening face behind
it, so he settled back on the hot sand.
“If you say anything more,” the Mexican snarled, “I’ll have your tongue
tied instead of your hands and feet. Understand?”
Alex submitted to the tying without a word of protest, though he laughed
bravely in the face of the man who did the work. The boy had
accomplished his purpose, and was willing to suffer a temporary
inconvenience. He had notified Case that the three captors were
suspicious of each other, and probably would not stand together if a
rush was made against them. He had also informed him that the money had
not yet been secured by the Mexicans, and that they were as ready to
fight King or their fellow countrymen for it as to battle with their
captives.
Case understood that Alex was talking for his information, and once more
turned his attention to the motor boat. He saw Captain Joe trot over the
spit and the island and leap on board the craft, saw King and Clay
conversing together for a time, and then saw the dog leave the boat with
Clay close behind him.
The others saw what was going on, too, and the hearts of the boys sank
at the thought of Clay becoming a prisoner. Before Clay gained the shore
the Mexicans ordered the boys to their feet and retreated with them to a
more sheltered spot higher up in the foothills. Alex did his best,
during the move, to attract the attention of Clay and so warn him, but
the boy was across the levee, following the dog closely, and so the
prisoners with their escort passed over the level, scalding stretch of
sand without being seen by the searcher, who was still on the opposite
side of the barrier.
From their hiding-place the boys finally saw Clay climb over the sand
levee and continue on his way to the hills. For a moment Captain Joe
moved along ahead of him, his short ears pricked forward, his nose close
to the ground, then the dog ran on and disappeared in a wrinkle to the
south, where the hills reached out nearer to the shoreline.
The Mexicans were now holding what seemed to be a heated argument as to
the advisability of shooting Clay before he got to them. The boys could
understand only the words used by the spokesman, and he appeared to be
arguing against such a step, advising that murdering an American was a
crime which rarely escaped punishment. Clay heard the voices and stopped
short.
“Alex! Case!” he cried out. “Where are you hiding?”
“Answer him! Answer him!” commanded the Mexican. “Tell him to come here!
You will so save his life! Do it quick!”
“I won’t!” shouted Alex, raising his voice. “I won’t. Keep away, Clay!”
he cried, lifting his bound wrists high above his head in order that
Clay might see. “Keep away until you can bring help!”
“You fool!” shouted the Mexican. “You murdering fool!”
Instead of starting away, Clay ran forward, drawing his automatic as he
advanced. Two of the captors fired at him but missed. At the same moment
the third man, angry at Alex’s disobedience of orders, sprang upon him
and raised a revolver as if to beat his brains out.
But before the weapon could fall something which looked like a white
streak of wrath shot through the air and landed on top of the man who
was bending over the boy. The Mexican struggled, clutched at the dog,
and went down, with Captain Joe’s teeth in the back of his neck. Once on
the ground, he lay perfectly still, as the dog’s teeth seemed less
dangerous when no resistance was offered.
In the meantime, with Clay running forward, regardless of the shots that
were being fired at him, and Don Durand making off toward the hills to
the west, the two remaining captors lost interest in the situation and
struck out on a swift run.
When Clay reached the spot where Alex lay, still bound, he heard the boy
urging Case to follow on after Don and bring him back.
“He thinks Clay is an officer!” Alex shouted. “Go and tell him the
truth. Shoot the Mexicans and bring him back!”
Case understood in an instant and started on a run after the three, by
this time some little distance away. But the boy had advanced but a few
paces when he saw one of the Mexicans reach out and drag Don to the
ground. There he proceeded to search him for the money belt!
Case’s shot was not necessary at that time, for the other Mexican turned
about and shot his companion through the head. Then he, in turn, bent
over the boy, unfastening the belt with fingers which were uncertain
because of the excitement of the time.
Case saw him lift the belt and turn away. He raised his revolver, which
he had snatched from the ground at Clay’s first shot, and fired, not
knowing whether he was aiming at the head or the heels of the fleeing
man. The bullet struck the Mexican in the right shoulder and the belt
dropped to the ground. Without stopping to pick it up the fellow
continued his course to the hills, and, as Case did not follow, was soon
lost to sight. Don Durand was also hidden in the hills.
When Case returned to Clay and Alex with the sand-stuffed belt in his
hand they both reached out for it. Alex did not care to have the
deception discovered, and Clay desired to take a look at the money which
King had told him about. The Mexican looked on with sullen eyes.
Alex got the belt and then asked:
“Why didn’t you bring Don back with you?”
“He went up in the air,” was the reply, “just like Alex did earlier in
the day. One second he was on the ground with a man searching him, and
the next he was nowhere to be seen. Why did he run away?”
“He thinks Clay is after him,” grinned Alex.
“But he left his money behind,” Case put in.
“Yes,” Alex admitted, with an inward chuckle, “and I’ll look out for it
until he returns. I promised him I would if anything happened to him.
He’s keeping the money for the man it was stolen from.”
Alex placed the belt about his own waist and watched the Mexican
wiggling away. There was no reason why he should detain him. Don was off
into the mountains and there was little danger of his being caught. The
money was hidden in the sand, and would be safe until either Don or
himself dug it out. So, on the whole, it might be just as well to permit
the fellow to make his escape!
The firing had, of course, attracted the attention of Deputy King, and
the boys now saw him approaching. The Mexican saw him, too, and,
bounding to his feet, darted away. In two minutes’ time he was out of
sight in the hills. The third man lay dead where he had fallen.
When King came up there remained only Clay, Case, and Alex to greet him.
Before he had quite reached them, the latter warned the others to say
nothing of the money belt. After they were on their way, after Don was
out of his reach, King would undoubtedly be told by some of the Mexicans
that the belt had passed to Alex.
In that case, the boy reasoned, the pursuit of Don would cease for a
time, and that would give him an opportunity to find the person the cash
had been stolen from. Don had not told the whole story of the crime to
Alex, but the latter had heard enough to cause him to sympathize with
the boy and wish him all luck in getting away.
“Why,” King said, coming up to the little group, “I was sure I saw a
smaller lad here with you. Where is he now? Did you let him get away?”
“He went right up into the blue sky!” insisted Alex.
“And the Mexicans went with him?” asked King, with a smile.
“They’ll not catch him,” Case answered, “if he keeps on running.”
“It looks more like they would catch the Rambler!” shouted Alex.