INTO THE MOUNTAINS
Disreputable ragamuffins as they appeared, the Yaquis were quick enough
to put their captives in a position to render them almost helpless.
Though the Mexican Indians do not seem to have the picturesqueness and
skill of the outdoors possessed by the North American Indians, still
they knew how to knot their lariats about Rosemary and Floyd, and so
tie them on spare horses that it would have been no easy task to escape.
Aside from rude hands bundling her about, no insult was offered
Rosemary; and though Floyd was not treated so gently he was not
actually mistreated. Rosemary was not searched, and her automatic
remained in a hidden pocket, where, if need be, she could quickly reach
it.
Floyd's gun was taken away, and all the money he carried loose in his
pockets. But he had been wise enough when starting out on this trip,
to make a secret pocket in his vest, and this now held a goodly sum
which the Indians overlooked. Of course a more careful search would
reveal it, as it would Rosemary's gun.
Paz, speaking in Spanish, detailed several men to guard the prisoners
and then, taking his place at the head of his band, he led them back
down the trail.
"Say, what does this mean?" asked Floyd of his sister. "He's going
right back down among men that ought to be our friends. If there are
any town officials there, or a soldier or two, they ought to save us."
"I'm afraid there isn't, though," the girl answered. "If there had
been the lone cowboy wouldn't have ridden for help. And the fighting
is still going on."
The sound of shooting was resumed as she spoke, and shouts and yells
came to Floyd's ears. He began to understand what had happened, his
surmise being borne out, later, by the facts.
La Nogalique is a town in Arizona, just on the Mexican border. In fact
so close is it that in places only a barbed wire fence separates the
possessions of Uncle Sam from those of the Mexican republic. And
outside of town even the wire fence "petered out," so there was
nothing--no natural boundary--to tell where citizens were under the
protection of the stars and stripes or under the domain of the
descendants of Montezuma.
What had happened, just as Rosemary and Floyd suspected, was that the
Yaquis--never very peaceable--had risen in one of their periodic raids.
They frequently hold up the Southern Pacific trains, kill and rob the
passengers and take what express matter they like.
This band, probably weary of making war on the none too resisting
Mexican soldiery, had crossed the border, and "shot up" La Nogalique.
When it was learned that one of the cowboys of the town had ridden to
bring some United States troops from a nearby station, Paz, one of the
leaders, had set out with his followers to capture the rider. They had
come upon Rosemary and her brother with the result detailed.
"But why are they riding back into town with us?" Floyd wanted to know.
"Mexico is south of La Nogalique," answered Rosemary. "They have to
ride through it to get back to Mexico, and they--they're taking us with
them!"
There was a gasp in her voice.
"We've got to do something!" desperately cried Floyd. He strained at
his bonds, but uselessly.
Paz turned and shouted something in anger, but Floyd gave him back
fully as black a look as the one on the Yaqui leader's face. At least
Floyd was going to maintain a bold front.
Down the slope and into the small town rode the Indians with their
captives. Now the sound of shooting and shouting became louder. It
was evident that some of the Americans were making a stand against the
Indians. The Americans were firing from houses and other shelter, the
Indians riding here and there, aiming whenever they saw anyone at whom
to shoot. Several evidently dead bodies were in the streets, the
proportion being about equal between the Americans and the Indians.
Rosemary could not repress a shudder as she saw, in one doorway, a dead
woman and a little girl.
How the fight started, whether it could have been avoided, and what the
town officials had done or were doing, were only matters for surmise.
"There was a fight but I guess the Indians were too many for our
fellows," grimly said Floyd, as his horse was led along. He had
managed to keep close to Rosemary.
"It looks that way," the girl said. "Oh, Floyd! If we could only get
word to our folks or Uncle Henry!"
"I don't see how we can," said Floyd. "When night comes maybe we can
break away, but--"
He did not finish. It was a desperate hope as he and Rosemary well
knew.
Suddenly, when the centre of the town was reached by the band having
taken our friends captive, there was a burst of fire, mingled with
shouts of defiance. Out of one of the buildings burst a band of
American cowboys and others. They had gathered together to make a
stand, and this was their chance.
Several of the Indians fell from their saddles, and others, though
wounded, managed to retain their seats. Bullets flew about Rosemary
and Floyd, fortunately not hitting them, but coming too close for
comfort.
Paz and his followers were evidently taken by surprise, and for a
moment did not return the fire. Then, as it increased the Indians
turned and began fleeing up the trail they had just descended, taking
Rosemary and Floyd with them. Evidently they not only thought there
might be danger in making a stand against the intrepid Americans, but
perhaps they reasoned that they had captives too valuable to risk
losing in another pitched fight.
At any rate Paz gave the orders to retreat, and his men obeyed.
Rosemary and Floyd saw what was happening. Helpless, they were carried
away into the mountains.
True it was United States territory, but for all the good that did the
captives, it might as well have been Mexico. There were no troops or
other help at hand.
Paz rode on ahead, and directly behind him came his more trusted
followers surrounding Rosemary and Floyd.
Suddenly Paz and his lieutenants (if such they might be called) in the
lead, were thrown back in confusion as shots rang out, and Floyd and
his sister had a glimpse of some cowboys riding down the trail, as if
to give battle.
"Hurray! Now we're all right. This is a rescue! The troopers are
coming!" shouted Floyd.
But though the valiant cowboys made a brave stand they were too few to
cope with the Indians. It developed, later, that they were a stray
band who had been told of the trouble by the lone cowboy who was riding
after the troops. The band of punchers, resolving to do their best,
had spurred to the fight, but were overwhelmed.
Two were killed and another wounded. And this youth--he was but that
in years--managed to break through the first line of Indians like a
football player with the ball smashing the interference of the opposing
team.
Right to the side of Rosemary and Floyd he galloped, and then the girl
had a flash of inspiration. Quickly she managed to take from her
pocket a notebook, and, one of the ropes coming loose from her hand,
she was able to scribble on a torn out page this message:
"Get word to my uncle, Henry Merkel, Diamond X Ranch, that Floyd and I
are taken. Ask him to send help."
She rolled this into a ball, and as the cowboy lurched past her she
thrust it into his hand.
"Ride! Ride away!" Rosemary fairly shouted in his ear, for there was
so much noise of shooting and yelling that she had to cry loudly to
make herself understood.
"I'm going to stay and fight!" cried the youth recklessly.
"You can't! They're too many! Ride and bring help! Deliver my
message!" pleaded Rosemary. "It's the best way to help us!"
Then, as Paz, wild and furious, rode up with pistol aimed at the
cowboy, the latter fired his last shot, full in the face of the Indian
leader, wheeled his horse, and managed to dash away.
How Paz escaped no one knew, but the shot only grazed him, and with
mutterings he threw aside his own empty weapon, and spurred after the
bold cowboy. But the horse of Paz slipped, while the steed of the
American, being more sure footed, carried him out of danger.
He vanished around a turn in the trail, and Paz swung back to his own
men, several of whom had been wounded, and one killed by the bold,
dashing American cowboys.
Then, when this little "fracas" was over, Rosemary and Floyd were again
led forward, into the mountain fastness, prisoners of the Yaquis.
While, miles away, the boy ranchers were totally unaware of the tragic
happenings.
"What did you do, Rose?" asked Floyd, in a low voice, as the trail was
resumed.
"I scribbled a note and sent it by that cowboy. He'll bring help if he
can."
"Well, I hope he can. If they don't get him, or he doesn't lose your
note."
But the message was delivered and was the means of spurring into action
those at Diamond X ranch.