A RACE FOR LIFE.
The electric thrill that passed through the lads at the words, and
temporarily rendered them powerless to move, would have speedily made
them an easy prey for the aggrieved Mexican officers, but that the
latter were equally excited by the announcement. The mention of
Ramon's name, in fact, seemed to cause a galvanic wave of activity
throughout the bivouac. Men could be heard running hither and thither,
and above all sounded the heavy trample of the new arrivals' horses.
In less than two minutes the last of the wounded Mexicans had picked
himself up from the ground, and, clapping a hand over a rapidly
swelling "goose egg," was hurrying from the scene of the sudden battle.
The last to get up was the pudgy little officer whom Jack had
overthrown. This fellow painfully scrambled to his feet, and,
breathing the most terrible threats in his native tongue, limped off.
The boys stood alone on the card-strewn, coin-littered battle-ground.
Dismay was pictured on their countenances. The crucial moment had
come, and they were fairly caught in a trap from which there seemed to
be no possible means of extricating themselves.
"Come on, boys," cried Bob Harding, who had quite recovered his
equanimity, "here's your friend Ramon, now."
He hastened off, not even looking to see if the supposed adventurers
were following him. Suddenly, while the three lads stood regarding one
another, there came a high-pitched voice ringing clearly above the
confusion and shouts:
"You consarned yaller coyote, you take yer leathery lunch-hooks off me,
or I'll fill yer so full uv holes your ma can use you for a collander!"
"Coyote Pete!" exclaimed Jack. "Oh, boys, he's all right!"
"Oh, Jack! What are we going to do?" gasped Ralph, pale under his coat
of tan, and looking about him nervously.
"We must act quickly, whatever it is," exclaimed Jack. "Thank
goodness, Coyote Pete is safe. The professor must be all right, too,
then. Look, there are the Mexican's horses off yonder. Let's make a
dash for them, and try to sneak out while they are still looking for
us."
"Do you think we can do it?" Ralph's voice was full of hesitancy.
"If we don't, we'll all be lined up with a firing squad in front of us
within the next ten minutes!" exclaimed Jack. "Hark!"
They could hear shouts and angry cries, above which Ramon's voice
sounded, as if he were narrating something.
"He's telling them about us," cried Jack. "Come on; there's not a
fraction of a second to lose."
Headed by Jack, the three Border Boys started on the run for the grove
in which the horses had been picketed. Some of the animals were
saddled and bridled, and for these they made a dash. They were not to
escape without some difficulty, however, for, as they placed their feet
in the stirrups, preparatory to swinging into the high-peaked saddles,
a dozing trooper sprang up from a litter of opened hay-bales. He
shouted something in Spanish, and made a spring for the head of the
animal Jack bestrode. It was no time for half measures. The heavy
quirt, with its loaded handle, hung from the horn of the saddle. With
a quick movement, Jack secured it, and brought the loaded end down on
the fellow's skull. He fell like a log, without uttering a sound.
"Now, forward boys!" cried Jack in a low tone, "it's a ride for life."
The others needed no urging. As rapidly as they could, consistent with
making as little noise as possible, the three young horsemen rode out
of the patch of woods in which the camp had been made, and emerged on
the high road without being stopped. Suddenly, however, a sentry with
a fixed bayonet, seemed to spring from the ground in front of them. He
cried something in Spanish, to which Jack replied by driving his horse
full at him. The fellow went down, and rolled over and over, as the
horse's hoofs struck him. Before he recovered his feet, the Border
Boys were upon the road and galloping for dear life. There was no use
in caution, now. Everything depended, in fact, on putting as much
distance as possible between themselves and the camp before their
absence was discovered.
Fortunately, their horses were fresh, powerful animals, with long,
swinging gaits. They got over the ground at a wonderful rate, and
Jack's heart began to beat exultingly. Not far distant lay some hilly
ground, broken with deep gullies and thickly grown with wooded patches.
Could they gain it, they would have a chance of concealing themselves.
"Hullo! They've discovered we've gone!" exclaimed Jack suddenly, as
behind them they could hear shots and bugle calls. "Don't spare the
horses, boys; we've got to make that rough country."
The quirts fell unmercifully on the big, powerful horses, and they
plunged snorting forward.
"We're kicking up dust enough to be seen ten miles," grumbled Walt.
"Can't be helped," flung back Jack, "speed is what counts now."
Before many minutes had passed, such good progress had they made that
the edge of a clump of woods was reached, and they plunged rapidly into
the friendly shelter.
"Where to now?" gasped Ralph.
"Right on! Right on!" shot out Jack. "Keep going till the horses
drop, or they overtake us. It's our only chance."
On and on into the wood, the hunted boys rode. Their wiry horses were
flagging now, but still seemed capable of more effort. Over the rough
ground, though, the pace at which they urged them was a killing one.
Still, as Jack had said, it was "their only chance."
All at once, from their rear, they heard shouts and bugle calls. Jack
turned a shade paler. The demonstration was much too close to be
pleasant. He had hardly believed that it was possible for the Mexicans
to have gained upon them so rapidly.
"Guess we're up against it," muttered Walt Phelps, in his usual laconic
manner.
"Not yet, by a good sight," pluckily retorted Jack. "Come on--into
this gulch. It takes a turn above here, and we may find some means of
getting out of their sight altogether."
Almost on their haunches, the horses were urged down the steep bank of
the gully to which Jack had referred. It was about twenty feet in
depth, with steep sides at the point at which they entered it, and
bare. Farther on, though, it took a turn, and was covered almost to
the bottom with chaparral and brush.
As Jack had said, if they could gain this portion of it, it ought to
afford them an ideal hiding-place.
Rapidly they pressed forward along the rough bottom of the gulch, which
was evidently a roaring water-course in times of heavy rain, but which
was now as dry as a bone. It was stiflingly hot, too, but none of them
noticed that. Other things far more overwhelming in importance, were
upon their minds just then.
Evidently, such skilled trackers as the Mexicans, had not been at fault
in locating the woods into which the boys had vanished. The yells and
cries, which Jack had heard, were rapidly drawing nearer in the woods
above them. But, if they could only gain the shelter of the overgrown
part of the gulch, they might still be safe.
It was in this extremity that Jack bethought himself of an old trick he
had heard the cow-punchers talk of at his father's ranch. They had
used it in old frontier days, when the Indians were thick and hostile.
The deception was a simple one. It consisted in the hunted person
slipping from his horse at a suitable hiding-place and then letting the
animal wander on.
The pursuers would naturally be guided by the sound of the horses'
hoofs, and would follow them up, leaving the concealed victim of the
chase at liberty, either to double back upon his trail, or remain where
he was. His intention of putting this trick into execution Jack
rapidly confided to his two companions. They rode forward through the
thick brush, which they had now gained, gazing eagerly at the walls of
the gulch for some cave, or other suitable place of concealment.
Suddenly Walt spied the very place which they were in search of,
apparently. It was a small opening in the rocky wall of the gully,
which appeared from below to penetrate quite some distance back into
the earth. Its mouth was sheltered with brush and creepers, and but
for the fact that a bird flew out from it as they passed, and thus
attracted their attention, they might have passed it unnoticed.
A brief inspection showed that it was a small cave, about twenty feet
in depth, and, as has been said, well screened from below.
"We're not likely to find a better place," announced Jack, after a
hasty inspection.
"Turn the horses loose," he cried in a low, but penetrating voice, down
to Walt, who had remained below with the stock.
The red-headed ranch boy slipped off the back of his steed and alighted
on a rock, so as to make no tracks. He then gave the three horses,
that had borne them so bravely, their liberty. At first the animals
would not move, but began cropping the green stuff about them.
"Here, that won't do," breathed Jack, as the three lads crouched at the
cave mouth. "Throw some rocks at them, Walt."
The boys picked up some small stones, which lay littered in front of
the cave, and commenced a fusillade. It had such good results, that a
few seconds later, the three horses were plunging off along the bottom
of the gully as if Old Nick himself had been after them.
As their hoof-beats grew faint, Jack held up his hand to enjoin
silence, although the boys had been discussing their situation in such
low tones that their voices could not have traveled ten feet from the
cave mouth.
"Hark!" he said.
From farther down the gully came shouts and yells, and then the
distinct rattling sound of loose shale, as several horsemen descended
the steep bank into the gulch.
"They've picked up the trail," commented Walt grimly.