THE RUSE OF ROSEMARY
Well it was that a body of fighters with the experience of the United
States troopers and the cowboys from Diamond X ranch went up against
the Yaquis, and not some brave but rash band of rescuers. The latter
would have been defeated almost at once for the Indians had picked out
an admirable place in which to make their last stand.
They had retreated into the mountains, along a trail that only the most
hardy could follow. Then, finding, as they doubtless did, that their
pursuers were ever at their heels, they hastened to what was,
virtually, a natural fortress--a nook among the rocky walls of the
defile. From there they shot at the approaching troopers and cowboys.
"No useless risks!" ordered Captain Marshall, as he and his men came up
to the attack.
The Yaquis had several distinct advantages in their favor. They were
up above the rescuers and could fire down on them, while the boy
ranchers and their friends had not only to fight but to climb up, and
the latter was a handicap.
Then the Indians had what was almost like a rocky fort to protect them,
while those making the attack had to approach pretty much in the open.
Of course there were rocks that could be used as cover, but these were
so scattered that it prevented the approach of the men in a body.
Individuals could creep from rock to rock, and so advance, but there
could be no concerted rush against the Yaquis, and that was what was
needed to overcome them.
However the fight was only in its early stages yet, and, like a
football game, one could not tell what would happen until the final
whistle was blown. Captain Marshall was a veteran fighter and could be
depended on. His men realized this, and so did the outfit from Diamond
X.
There was nothing very spectacular about this fight. Little of it
could have been seen by an observer, if you except the spurts of smoke
from unseen guns and the echoes caused by the shots. For each man, on
both sides, was firing from cover. The Yaquis had the advantage that
their cover--a big wall of rock--sheltered many of them in an almost
straight line, and they could fire in volleys on signal, while the
soldiers and cowboys had to fire individually and at odd times, as they
made their way from one sheltering stone to another.
Thus the Yaquis could concentrate their fire on one man if they had a
glimpse of some incautiously exposed arm or leg, while no one soldier
could hope to inflict much damage on a crowd of Indians behind a thick
stone wall.
But the fight was not so unequal as seemed at first sight. For while
the Yaquis were strongly entrenched, they were outnumbered--of that
there was little doubt. And they were fighting picked men, who had
been in many dangerous skirmishes and fights, whereas the Indians were
at best but a sort of brigand bushwhackers.
Each side was desperate, perhaps the Indians more so, for they must
have realized that they would be given short shrift if any harm now
came to Rosemary and Floyd. The soldiers and cowboys would not
hesitate to take swift and sure vengeance. So the Indians must fight
to the bitter end, selling their lives as dearly as possible.
"I just wonder if Rosemary and Floyd are up in that nest of beggars?"
mused Bud, as he and his cousins were at last allowed to proceed up the
defile, toward where the Yaquis were making their last stand. Bud had
begged so hard to be allowed to go to the front, to at least help his
cousins load their weapons if nothing else, that permission had been
granted.
The boy ranchers were close together now, each sheltered behind a rock,
and almost in line with the foremost of the attackers who were under
the shadow of the natural fort, behind the wall of which the Yaquis
were making their last stand.
"I hope they are up there," said Nort, answering Bud's question. "If
they brought them this far they probably wouldn't do away with them
now. They must be up there!"
"I wish we had them down here," said Dick. "It's going to be hard work
to get the imps out of their den!"
"You supplied two good earfuls that time, kid!" said Rolling Stone.
"Ah, you will, will you!" he added quickly, and he fired at an exposed
head over the top of the wall that hid the Indians.
There was a howl of pain mingled with rage, that could be heard above
the din of the fighting.
"You nipped him!" cried Yellin' Kid.
"I tried to," grimly said Rolling Stone.
And so the fighting went on, in pot-shot fashion, with occasional
volleys from the Yaquis.
"They're only wasting their lead," spoke Captain Marshall. "But I
wonder where they got so many cartridges?"
"Likely they made another raid," suggested Snake.
This, later, was found to be the case. A store keeper had been killed
and his stock looted, provisions and arms being taken.
If the boy ranchers and their friends could have looked behind the
natural wall of rock, which constituted the fort that proved to be the
last stand of the Yaquis, and if they could have looked farther, into a
big cave, the mouth of which was concealed from a view below by this
same wall, their questions as to Rosemary and Floyd would have been
answered.
For the captives were there. Weary, apprehensive, tired and fairly ill
from their hardships, Rosemary and her brother had been thrust into the
cavern when the Yaquis reached this vantage place, knowing their
pursuers were close behind them.
"Something's up!" Floyd had said as they were rudely hustled into the
hiding place.
"I hope it's the end," said Rosemary dismally. Poor girl! She was
about done up, and she no longer had her weapon as a means of defence.
By a ruse it had been taken from her, though she and Floyd fought
desperately to retain it. But Mike, as one of his men snatched it
away, only laughed at them.
"The end! What do you mean?" asked Floyd.
"I mean I think this will be the last fight. You can tell by the way
they thrust us in here, and hurried out with their guns, that something
unusual is taking place. I believe our rescuers are coming!"
"That's what we thought when they sent us off in charge of Mike and the
smaller gang," observed Floyd.
"Yes, but this is different!" declared Rosemary. "They can't get out
of this place in a hurry, and once our friends, whether soldiers or
cowboys from Uncle Henry's ranch, get this far, they'll never give up
until they break through the Indians."
"If they only do!" murmured Floyd. He was cut and bruised from a fight
he had with two of the Yaquis, when he endeavored to go to the aid of
his sister, as her weapon was wrested from her. Floyd's left arm was
badly wrenched, so he could hardly use it.
And then, after the hurried thrusting into the cave of the captives,
had come the first shots of the soldier scouts in response to the fire
of the Yaqui sentry.
"They're here!" cried Floyd, when it became very evident that an attack
in force was going on.
"Oh! I'm glad!" exclaimed Rosemary, and tears of relief came to sooth
her ragged nerves.
They went as close as they dared to the mouth of the cave to look at
the backs of the Yaquis who were lined up along the wall firing down on
the soldiers and cowboys. No guard was stationed at the entrance to
the cavern--none was needed. The rear was a wall of solid rock, as
Rosemary and her brother had discovered soon after being rushed into
it. In front of the entrance was a rocky platform, and extending along
the outer edge of this, in the form of a semicircle, was the defending
wall of stone.
This rocky wall dropped abruptly down into the defile where the cowboys
and soldiers were making the attack. It would be almost impossible to
descend it. The way up was by a narrow passage which was now choked by
rocks the Indians had piled there.
On either side of the cavern's entrance the rock rose in steep slopes,
not altogether impossible of being scaled, but a hindrance to a quick
retreat. That is what Captain Marshall meant when he said the Yaquis
were practically backed up against a stone wall.
The firing became sharper and quicker and the reports of the guns of
the attackers sounded nearer. They were, in fact, creeping up, taking
advantage of every bit of cover.
There were casualties on both sides, Dick being put out of the game by
a bullet through his right arm. Fortunately it only entered the flesh,
breaking no bones. But he was ordered to the rear, much to his
disgust. Nort and Bud still stuck, Bud helping Nort in loading.
Perhaps the situation was hardest on Rosemary and Floyd, for they were
obliged to remain in the cave, doing nothing, and fearing the worst.
If the Indians succeeded in standing off the rescuers, or in killing so
many of them that the survivors would not dare rush the place, what
would it mean to the captives?
Rosemary dared not think of it.
Then, following a period of unusually heavy firing, the plucky girl
made up her mind to act.
"Floyd!" she exclaimed, "I'm desperate! I'm going to do something!
"Not--you're not going to--"
Floyd stumbled over expressing the fear that she was going to rush out
and throw herself over the rocky wall.
"It's just a chance," went on Rosemary, "but I'm going to take it. A
desperate chance!"
"But what, Rosemary?"
"I'm going to play a trick on these Indians! I think I can do it!"
"A trick?"
"Yes. As soon as the next period of heavy firing quiets down I'm going
to rush out, yelling, and point back to the cave. I want you to do the
same."
"But what good will it do?"
"It will give the Indians the impression that our friends--or some
one--has managed to get up the rocks, and that they are coming from the
rear. There may be an entrance into that cave from the back. I don't
know, and I don't believe these Indians do. Anyhow if we rush out, all
excited, yelling as hard as we can, and pointing to the cave back of
us, I think the Yaquis will take the alarm and become so confused that
our friends, whoever they are out there, will be able to rush this
position."
As yet, you must understand, Rosemary and her brother were unaware of
the identity of the attackers.
Rosemary started up from where she was sitting in their extemporized
and miserable prison cave. It was evidently her intention to put into
operation at once her desperate plan.
"Wait a minute!" exclaimed her brother.
"What for?" she questioned.
"I'm not so sure that it is the best thing to do," he answered.
Floyd was rather less impulsive than his sister--that is on occasions.
There were times when he could be more hot headed.
"Well, what else is there to do?" Rosemary asked.
She was going to be perfectly fair about it, and if Floyd had anything
better to offer as a suggestion she would listen to him.
"Let's think about it a bit longer," he finally said, with a long
intaking of breath, which told more plainly than words, how the
situation was oppressing him. "I'm sure it's mighty plucky of you,
Rosemary, to lay out such a plan as this, but I don't believe I ought
to let you try it. Something might happen."
"Something is going to happen anyhow," she said, with ominous quiet,
and a grim tightness showed in the lines of her mouth. "I believe
these Indians have just about reached the end of their rope. They have
been very patient with us--that is patient from their standpoint. Now
they have met with opposition, and they must know if they are
overpowered it will be to our advantage, and that our friends, or
whoever is out there firing, will take revenge."
"That's so," agreed Floyd.
"Well then, we've just _got_ to do something!" said Rosemary,
desperately. "And I'm going to do it."
Again she started up.
"Wait a minute!" exclaimed her brother again.
He seemed to be listening. He leaned forward, and then softly arose
from where he was sitting and went forward.
"What is it?" asked his sister in a low voice.
"I thought I heard voices--good old United States voices, and not this
jargon of Mexican and Spanish," was the reply. "Maybe some of the
attackers, whoever they are, have broken through."
A look of delighted joy came over the face of Rosemary. But a moment
later it faded away and she seemed hopeless.
"It can't be," she said. "There'd be a lot of yelling and shouting if
any of those who are attacking the Yaquis had broken through their
lines," she went on. "There's no use waiting, Floyd. Let's try my
plan!"
But her brother was not yet convinced.
"It will be all right if it works," he agreed. "But if it fails, and
they only have the laugh on us, we'll be treated so much the worse. I
don't mind on my own account--but yours!" and he glanced at his sister.
"I hadn't thought of that," spoke Rosemary in a low voice. "If it
should--fail--why--"
She did not complete the sentence.
"It would only make them more angry, I'm afraid," went on Floyd.
There was silence, for a time, between brother and sister. It was
broken only by occasional and distant shouts, punctuated, now and
again, by a shot. But the heavy fusillade had subsided for a time.
"Well?" questioned Rosemary.
She was eager to get some action.
"This is what I'll do," said Floyd, after some tense consideration,
"I'll take a look around and see how matters shape up."
"Then what?" asked Rosemary.
She was evidently not going to let the matter go by default.
"Well, then if I can't see anything better to do then what you
proposed, we'll go to it!" decided Floyd. "You sit here and I'll
scurry around. I won't be long."
"No, please don't," begged Rosemary. "If we're going to do anything
we'll have to do it very soon. This can't last--much longer!"
Floyd did not stop to ask his sister just what she meant. In fact he
did not dare question her as to what it was that could not last "much
longer." He had a desperate fear that it was Rosemary's own spirit
that was on the point of breaking.
Up to now she had kept up her courage remarkably well. But there was a
limit, and if the breaking point had been reached Floyd did not know
what would follow.
He shot a quick look at the girl before he started out on what he
thought might be a last desperate venture. He felt that he might
discover something to do--some way of escape--that would not make it
necessary for his sister to virtually rush into danger.
And he was relieved when he saw the calm and cool look that was on
Rosemary's face.
"She isn't going to give up!" decided Floyd.
There was an exultant feeling in his heart.
During this talk between brother and sister the dirty Indian detailed
to guard the captives had sauntered within view of them every now and
then. To quiet his suspicions, in case he should have any, Rosemary
and Floyd had spoken most casually on these occasions.
The lad waited until the guard had come on one of his periodic trips of
inspection and had dropped out of sight on a ledge of rock, and then
Floyd started out.
"Don't be too long!" called Rosemary in a low voice.
"I won't!" he promised.
Walking as aimlessly as he could pretend, Floyd started toward a break
in the natural wall that ran in front of the prison cavern. He wanted
to see if he could catch a glimpse of the Yaquis below him.
"And I'd give a whole lot of money--if I had it--to see who is fighting
them," thought Floyd. "But I haven't much left."
He glanced ruefully down at his now soiled and torn garments. And as
he thrust his hands into his pockets he missed many a trinket and
possession. For nearly everything had been taken away by Paz, Mike or
some of their rascally followers.
Two or three Indians, some of them wounded, were coming back "from the
front," so to speak. One of them glanced scowlingly at Floyd, as he
passed the lad, evidently associating his wounds with the presence of
the prisoner.
"I'd give you a whole lot worse than that if I had a chance--Ugly
Face!" thought Floyd.
Another member of the renegade band grinned or--Floyd took it for a
grin--as he passed. But none of them seemed to care where the lad went
or what he did, and for this Floyd was glad.
"I seem to be getting somewhere," he murmured. "Whether I can hit on
any scheme to beat Rosemary's is a question, but I don't want her to
take the risk unless there's nothing else to do."
He had now reached a low spot in the natural rocky wall. He felt that
if he could once get a glimpse at this point he might see something
that would help him and Rosemary.
And to his great delight, when he had sauntered, as casually as he
could make it, to an observation point, what he saw made him gasp for
breath.
For, grouped closely together, below him, on a sort of big table of
rock, were a number of the Yaquis. They appeared to be holding a sort
of council or parley, and were gathered about an Indian to whom Mike
and Paz often delegated certain duties.
But this was not what caused the heart of Floyd to thump so desperately
against his ribs, making such a noise, he wildly feared, that the
pounding would be heard by some passing Indian.
What caused him fairly to gasp for breath was the sight of a great
boulder, poised on the edge of the natural wall, and hanging almost
directly over the group of talking Indians.
"If I can push that rock down on them it will do the trick!" thought
Floyd. "It'll put some of 'em out of business, and the rest will be so
frightened that they'll retreat. Then whoever is out there trying to
break through to help us, will have matters their own way. That's what
I'll do. Ill pry that rock loose and let it dash 'em on the heads."
It was a horrible thing to think of, much more horrible to do, but the
situation of Rosemary and Floyd was desperate indeed. The end seemed
to justify the means.
"The point is," mused Floyd, "can I shove that rock down?"
Looking about him he saw that he was not observed. He quickly made his
way nearer to the rock, and then, reaching out his hands, he pushed.
Gently at first he exerted the pressure, and then putting more power
into the shove he thrust with all his might.
"It's giving! It's giving!" thought Floyd, with a desperate catch of
his breath. "I can shove it down on 'em and dash 'em all up!"
He exerted all his strength. The rock was moving, and even with all
the villainies the Indians had to their discredit Floyd's nerve almost
failed him as he saw the great boulder sway as if for the plunge.
But to his chagrin he felt the rock move back toward him again. He
tried to hold it away--to thrust it from him--but nature, in the guise
of the attraction of gravitation--pulled the rock back into the
socket-shaped bed where it had rested so long.
It rolled back with a grinding sound, and Floyd feared, for a moment
that he had loosened it so that it would topple back and fall upon his
feet.
But this did not happen. The great half-round stone oscillated to and
fro and then came to rest. Floyd had only caused it to sway a little.
"Well, I moved it!" he said with a gasp. "I'll try again. If I can
only get it started it will do the trick."
Again he pushed, with all his might, but again the same thing happened.
He managed to make the rock sway outward, a little farther over the
edge of the wall, but back it came again into its hollow resting place.
Then Floyd understood the nature of the matter.
"It's a balanced rock," he said to himself. "She's been resting here
for ages, and you can move it just so far but no farther. It would
take a team of army mules to dislodge it."
He looked over the wall again. The Indians were still in the same
place, eagerly talking--a score or more of feet below the boy.
"It's too good a chance to miss!" whispered Floyd desperately. "I
wonder if I can't find some sort of a lever and pry it loose."
He looked about him. Not far away was part of a dead tree branch,
thick as his arm.
"Just what I need!" he exclaimed.
He ran to pick up the branch and, returning with it, set one end under
the balanced rock, that was still swaying slightly from his exertions.
"Now for a last try!" murmured the lad.
He bent his weight on the long end of the improvised lever. The rock
seemed to rise from its socket bed, and to sway outward. There was an
exultation in the boy's heart. He thought, in another instant, that he
could send the great stone crashing down into the midst of the Yaquis.
Then, suddenly there came a sharp report, and Floyd felt himself
falling.
His first feeling was that he had been shot and that this was the end.
But he felt no pain, save a sudden bump as he sprawled on the rocks,
and then he realized what had happened.
He had pressed so heavily on the old and dried piece of wood that it
had snapped and broken with a report like that of a pistol, and he had
dropped.
"Too bad!" murmured Floyd.
As he picked himself up he saw two of the Yaqui Indians running around
a rocky corner. They had evidently been drawn to the place by the
sound.
"No good letting them know what I tried to do," quickly decided Floyd.
"It would only make it worse for us."
Having decided on a line of action it did not take the lad an instant
to carry it out. Quickly he picked up the broken pieces of his lever
and started back with them toward the cave where he and his sister were
held captives.
"Make fire!" he said to the Indians. "Make fire--cook grub!"
"Ugh!" they grunted. They evidently accepted this obvious explanation.
Their suspicions lulled, they turned and went back the way they had
come, pausing long enough, however, to watch Floyd enter the cave where
Rosemary waited.
"Well," she questioned, as he threw the broken ends of his lever on the
rocky floor.
"No go," answered Floyd despondently. "I had a peach of a chance to
play a trump hand on them, but luck was against me."
He told what he had tried to do with the rock.
"Oh? I--I'm almost glad it didn't succeed!" said Rosemary with a
shudder. "It would have been--terrible!"
"Nothing is too bad for these devils!" cried Floyd. "But I give up. I
can't think of anything more to do."
"Then shall I try my way?" asked his sister.
"It is a desperate chance," Floyd murmured.
"But don't you think we ought to try it? We may be able to reach the
wall, and get over, or go down the trail we came up. It was too steep
for the horses, but maybe we can make it."
The horses had been abandoned by the Yaquis as they entrenched
themselves for this last stand. The animals could not make the ascent.
"Well?" asked Rosemary of her brother.
"I'm with you!" he said, with a sharp intaking of his breath.
Then they got ready for the ruse Rosemary had proposed.