WHAT HAPPENED TO COYOTE PETE.
Let us now retrace our steps to the Haunted Mesa, and ascertain how it
fared with Coyote Pete and the professor, after the boys' astonishing
disappearance through the balanced trap-door in the base of the hollow
altar. As we know, the lads' elders were crouched at the opposite end
of the former sacrificial structure, when, before their eyes, the lads
were swallowed up.
For an instant--as well they might have been--the two onlookers were
fairly paralyzed with amazement. The occurrence seemed to be without
natural explanation. But an investigation by Pete, crawling on his
hands and knees while he made it, soon revealed the nature of the
device which, as we know, was nothing more nor less than a balanced
trap-door of stone. An unusual weight placed upon one end of it
instantly tilted it and projected whatever was on it upon the staircase
below.
The professor, who recalled having read of such devices in other
dwelling-places of ancient communities, was at first for following the
boys into the unknown interior of the mesa, but before any move could
be made in that direction, one of the newly-arrived party shoved his
face over the top of the hollow altar in a spirit of investigation. He
fell back with a yell, crying out that there were spirits within it, as
his eyes encountered the crouching forms of its two occupants.
"What's the matter, you fool?" demanded Ramon himself, who happened to
be close at hand.
"Oh, the spirits! The spirits of the hollow altar!" howled the Mexican
in abject terror, his knees knocking together and his face taking on a
sickly pallor.
"Hey! What's that the crazy galoot's after saying?"
The question came from a thickset man, of about middle age, upon whose
upper lip bristled a fringe of reddish hair. His eyes were blue,
narrow and evil, and his face was scarred in half a dozen places.
"Why, Hickey, my amigo, he says that the place is haunted," laughed
Ramon.
The man addressed as Hickey turned to his two companions, one of whom
was a tall, lanky chap, with straggly black hair, and bristly, unshaven
chin. The other was a short, fat, rather good-natured looking little
man, whose truculent chin, however, gave the lie to his incessant
smile. Somehow, you felt, after a lengthy inspection of this latter,
that he was by no means the amiable personage his fixed smile seemed to
indicate. Small wonder, considering that his smile was fixed upon his
face by reason of an old knife wound, which, in severing some facial
muscles, had drawn up the corners of his mouth into a perpetual grin.
"Hullo! Here's Rafter and Con Divver!" exclaimed the
bristly-moustached one. "Well, fellows, what d'ye think of this here
country?"
"All right, as fur as we've gone," grunted the lanky man, "but I'm
itching to git across the border and git my paws on some of that gold."
"Ye're right, Rafter," agreed the man with the perpetual smile, "that's
what we're after. I ain't made a good haul since we cleaned out the
safe of that asphalt company in Venezuela."
"Well, gentlemen," smiled Ramon, in his most ingratiating manner, "you
will have ample opportunity shortly. I happen to know that one of the
first things that General Madero intends to do is to move upon the
mines of the robber Americanos, and get some of their gringo gold."
"Hooray! That's the talk," grunted Jim Hickey, who, like his mates,
styled himself "soldier of fortune." But, alas! that high-sounding
title in his case, as in many others, was simply a polite way of
disguising his true calling, to-wit, that of an unscrupulous
adventurer, whose object was to line his own pockets. A fashion has
arisen of late of writing about soldiers of fortune as if they were
noble, Quixotic persons. Those with whom the author has come in
contact, however, have, without exception, been mercenary and
cold-blooded men, to whom the name highway robber could be applied with
far more justice than the higher sounding term. Such men were Jim
Hickey and his two companions, who had flocked like buzzards to the
border at the first word of trouble.
"Waal, thar's that greaser of yours still cuttin' up didoes," drawled
Divver. "What's ther matter with ther coyote, anyhow? Say, Ramon,
ain't that the main station of yer subway, yonder in ther rock pile?"
He pointed to the hollow altar, in which crouched Pete and the
professor. They had heard every word of this conversation, of course,
and its effect upon them may be imagined.
"That, señors, is indeed the entrance to our convenient little
underground river. Ha! ha! an excellent joke on the worthy Colonel
Briggs. He is guarding every point of the border but this one. Of
course, he concluded, in his wise way, that nobody could cross those
barren hills yonder, but, as you know, gentlemen, we go under, and not
over them."
"Trust you greasers?" grinned Rafter, who was a New Englander; "ye're
as slick ez paint, and thet's a fact. But, let's see what in ther name
of juniper scairt thet feller o' yourn. Seems like he's teetotel
abstinence on thet altar."
"Yes, there is a superstition that the mesa is haunted," rejoined
Ramon. "That is the reason why I could never get a man to ascend it
without myself. If you gentlemen noticed the tracks upon the pathway,
you would have seen they went only to the top of the path. Beyond that
my men would in no manner go on the night we came here to reconnoiter."
"That was before you sent the order through fer the arms?" inquired
Hickey.
"_Si, señor_. But now, as you see, everything bids fair to go well,
and----"
"By hemlock!" broke in Rafter's sharp voice, as he drew his pistol,
"thar's two cusses hidin' in ther altar."
The New Englander had separated from the others, and taken a peek over
the edge of the ancient sacrificial device, to ascertain what had
caused the sudden alarm of the Mexican. What he had seen had caused
his amazed exclamation.
"What's that?" came the bull-throated roar of Hickey, "two men in that
brick pile?"
"That's whatsoever. One on 'em is a big, long, rangy cuss, like a
yearlin' colt, by gosh, and ther other's the dead spit of the school
teacher at ther Four Corners, back er hum."
"We must see into this."
It was Ramon who spoke. As he did so, he advanced in his agile,
cat-like way upon the altar. In his hand he held his revolver. But,
as he reached the edge of the pit and raised himself to peep over,
something--which something was Coyote Pete's fist--caught him full
between the eyes, and sent him toppling backward into the arms of
Rafter. Together the lanky New Englander and the Mexican crashed to
the ground, while Pete set up a defiant yell.
"Come on!" he cried. "Any of your outfit thet's jes' pinin' fer a
facial massage, hed better step this way, an' be accommodated."
Ill-advised as Pete's hasty action was, it at least created a brief
spell in which he had time to leap over the edge of the altar, and,
before Ramon or any of the rest could recover from their astonishment,
the cow-puncher had seized the Mexican's pistol and was standing at
bay, his back against the altar.
"Now, then, any gent desirous uv heving his system ventilated free of
charge, will kin'ly step this way," he mocked. "Ah----" as Hickey's
hand slid to his waist, "don't touch thet gun, mister, or yer friends
will be sendin' you flowers."
"Waal, by Juniper!" drawled Rafter, as he gathered his spidery form
together and scrambled to his feet. "You seem ter hev ther drop on us,
stranger."
"Thet's what," retorted the cow-puncher, "and I mean to keep it till we
can come to terms. That Mexican gent yonder knows me of old--don't
you, Ramon?--and he knows thet what I say I'll do, I'll do."
"So you are spying upon me again, are you?" grated out Ramon viciously.
"Not content with driving me out of the Hachetas, you must even
interfere with my political activities."
"Waal, if yer gitting perlitically active with machine guns and
shootin' irons, I reckon Mister Diaz ull interfere with yer 'bout as
much as I will," grunted Pete, keeping the men before him covered with
the Mexican's pistol. The part of this speech referring to the machine
guns was a mere guess of the shrewd cow-puncher. But, as the reader
knows, he had struck the nail on the head. "But see here, Ramon," he
went on, dropping his tone, "we ain't here to molest you. We come out
here with a scientific gent, to measure the mesa. We was going back
home ter-night, an' was takin' a last look around when you come along.
I'll give you my word--and you know it's good--that we don't want ter
meddle with your affairs so long as they don't affect us. Run all the
guns you want--for I know that's your little game--but we've got some
kids with us, and it's up to me to get 'em back home safe. Let us git
out of here peaceable, and no more will be said."
"Hum!" grunted the Mexican. "You forget that I owe you a little debt
for some things that happened across the border some time ago. Black
Ramon does not forget, nor does he forgive. I can guess who those boys
are you have with you, and here is my proposal: You leave that cub,
Jack Merrill, with me, and the rest of you can go, and----"
_Swish_!
Before Coyote Pete realized it, a raw-hide lariat circled through the
air from behind, and settled about his neck. The next instant he was
jerked from his feet, as Con Divver, who had crept unobserved around
the altar, drew the rope tight. Ramon had seen the other creeping up,
and had been talking against time till the crucial moment arrived.
Now, with a howl of triumph, he rushed at the cow-puncher, and was
about to aim a terrific kick at his prostrate body, when a lanky form
suddenly appeared over the edge of the altar, and fixing ten bony
fingers in Ramon's inky locks, tugged till the Mexican yelled with pain.
"Well may you cry aloud for mercy, sir!" exclaimed the professor, for
he it was who had suddenly come to the rescue, forgetting even the pain
of his ankle in the crisis. "Even in Homer you may find it written,
'Never kick a man when he's down.'"
"_Phew_!" whistled Hickey, his smile puckering up his whole face in an
evil grimace. "This is growing interesting."
"Sanctissima Santos! Take him off! Make him let go!" yelled Ramon,
dancing in agony. But the professor's long digits were entwined in his
locks, and the man of science showed no disposition to let go.
"Sa-ay, yo-ou animated hop-toad, I reckin you'd better let go uv ther
Mexican gent's draperies, er I'll be compelled ter drill yer, by
hemlock."
It was Rafter who drawled out the words, and, as he spoke, he held a
revolver leveled at the professor's head.
"Better drop the varmint, perfuss," directed Pete, from the ground,
"they've got us hog-tied and ready fer the brand."
"By ginger! I cal-kerlate ther ain't no de-oubt uv thet," drawled
Rafter, as the professor dropped his hold on Ramon's locks, and began
flourishing a small geological hammer.
It would be wearisome to relate in detail all that took place at the
mesa after this, but suffice it to say that Ramon's rage on the
discovery that the lads had accidentally found the underground
passageway was what it might have been imagined to be. As we know, a
fruitless pursuit of them followed.
This over, the rascals were faced with a dilemma. The boat in which it
had been arranged that Hickey, Divver and Rafter were to take passage
had been appropriated by the boys.
"A thousand evils light upon them," raged Ramon, as he stood dripping
on the bank of the stream. "It is a hundred to one that they also
seize the three horses I had reserved for your use, gentlemen."
"Waal, I calkerlate thet sooner er later we'll cotch up ter these young
catermounts, and then, by chowder, we'll mek it quite interesting fer
them, whatsoever," promised Rafter significantly.
"Looks like we'll hev ter trek across ther mountains, after all,"
commented Hickey, no more moved by what had occurred than he ever was
by anything.
But in this he reckoned without Ramon's resourcefulness. The Mexican
was as clever as he was unscrupulous. Necessity being the mother of
invention, he soon devised a plan to avoid the long and perilous
excursion across the barren hills.
Under his direction, the wagon-bed was taken off the running-gear, and
the tarpaulin cover so adjusted as to make it water-tight. Rafter was
a skillful carpenter, having once done honest work in a Maine shipyard,
so that the improvised boat was soon ready for transportation. Working
all night, in shifts, it was ready for its voyage down the river the
next morning, and just about the time our lads were eating breakfast,
the desperadoes, with the professor and Pete lying tightly bound in the
bottom of the clumsy craft, made a start.
The stock, including that of the ranch party, which Hickey's sharp eyes
had discovered, was left in charge of some of Ramon's mestizos at the
mesa. As ill-luck would have it, almost the first thing that greeted
their eyes when they emerged from the tunnel was the sight of the old
Mexican whom Jack had bound and set adrift. He had been rescued from
his predicament by a rancher about ten miles down the stream, and had
made the best of his way back at once. His prayers, apologies and
explanations for the loss of the horses may be imagined as he faced
Ramon's wrath. In fact, but for the intervention of Hickey, it is
likely the old mestizo would have been flung into the water by his
enraged employer.
A halt occurred on the river bank, while some peons were despatched for
fresh horses to a ranchero known to be friendly to the insurrectos.
Then began the ride to Madero's camp, which ended as we know.