THE LAST STAND.--CONCLUSION.
As the cow-puncher spoke, there came a sound from the direction of the
gate which was filled with sinister significance.
Thud! Thud!
It echoed hollowly within the stockade. Buck Bradley was quick to read
its meaning.
"They've got a big log or suthin, and are busting in the gate!" he
cried.
A shout of dismay went up from them all. As it so happened, there had
been no time to bore any holes near the gate, and the only way to delay
the work of battering it down would be to clamber to the fence top and
fire down into the insurrectos handling the battering ram.
But it needed no second thought to show that this would be madness. At
the first appearance of a head above the stockade, they knew that half
a hundred rifles from without would pour a volley at it. It would not
take more than ten minutes to wipe out the whole garrison in this way.
"Nope. We'll have to think of some other plan," decided Buck. It is
worthy of remark here that not one of the defenders of the mine had
ever even hinted at a surrender. This was not due so much to the fact,
as they knew, that it would only mean exchanging one form of death for
another, as it was to their grim determination to defend the mine at
whatever cost to themselves. It was the dogged American spirit that
prevailed at the Alamo.
"Aha! I haf idt!" burst out Geisler suddenly, after a few minutes of
deep thought. "Dere is no hope uv safing dot gate?"
"Not the least," Buck assured him. "They'll have it through in a few
minutes now."
He pointed to the timbers which were already showing jagged cracks up
and down their entire length.
"Veil," said the German, "der office uv der mine is made strong--oh
very strong, for behindt idt is der specie room. Ve can gedt by der
inside in dere and fire through der vindows. And as a last resort vee
can----"
He paused.
"We can what?" demanded Jack.
"Nefer mindt. I dell you later. Now is dot agreed upon?"
"It's about all we can do, I guess," grunted Pete, "unless we stay here
to be shot down."
"Den come mit me."
The German rapidly led the way across the yard to the office building.
As he closed and barred the door, they noted that it was lined inside
with steel, strongly riveted to the oak. The windows also had steel
shutters, cleverly concealed, in cases into which they slid, from
casual view. In the windows, as well as in the door, were small
apertures for firing through.
"Why, it's a regular fort!" exclaimed Ralph, as the shutters clanged to
with a harsh, grating sound.
"You bet my life idt's a fort," agreed Herr Geisler, "undt ledt me tell
you dot you needt a fort ven you have a specie room by dis country."
"Then the specie room is near us?"
"In there."
The German pointed over his shoulder at a door in the rear of the
office.
"Idt is steel walled, undt dere is a combination lock on der door.
Even if dey should kill us all, dey still have a tough nut to crack."
The German spoke calmly, and his blond features were absolutely
unruffled. No emotion appeared either on the weathered countenances of
Coyote Pete or Buck Bradley. The professor's face, though, was ashen,
but he uttered never a word. As for the boys, who shall blame them if
it is said that their hearts were beating wildly, their mouths felt
dry, and their brains throbbed.
It was the last stand, and they all realized it.
Unless help should come from an unforeseen source, they were bound to
perish miserably at the hands of the insurrectos.
Suddenly, there was a great crashing, rending sound from without.
Instantly a chorus of wild yells arose on the air, and shots were fired
as if in exultation.
"They've busted the gate!" exclaimed Buck.
Peering through the apertures in the door and windows, they could see
the hoard come pouring into the yard of the mine. At first they came
cautiously. They evidently recollected the steam, and feared another
ambush. In a few minutes, however, their confidence returned. The
watchers could see a little man dart out from among the crowd and point
toward the specie room and the office structure.
"The gold is within, my brothers!" he shouted in Spanish.
"Bodderation tage dot feller," sputtered Geisler, "a veek ago he vos
der best vorkman ve hadt by der mine, undt now look at him."
With a howl, the insurrectos charged on the hut. The lust of gold was
in their veins, and they minded the volley poured into them by the
defenders no more than if it had been so much rain. Several of them
fell, but it seemed to make no difference to the others. They charged
right up to the very doors of the place. Some of them even tore at the
walls as if they imagined they could demolish them and get at the
gringo gold.
"Dot is vot goldt does for mens," philosophically remarked the German,
as he gazed at the onrush, firing methodically at the same time.
Jack, Ralph, and Walt were at one of the windows, while the professor
and Coyote Pete defended the other. During the mad rush for the
office, they all did considerable execution, without, of course, any
cost to themselves. The Mexicans, to be sure, returned the fire
furiously, but their bullets "pinged" harmlessly against the steel
shutters, or buried themselves in the thick, wooden walls.
Suddenly there came an angry shout from some one evidently in authority
among the insurrectos. Instantly the attack melted away, the
retreating men dragging their wounded with them. It was Jack's first
sight of real warfare, and it made his blood, as well as that of the
others, run cold.
"Now what are they up to?" wondered Buck, as this sudden cessation of
activities came.
"Search me," rejoined Coyote Pete, "but it's some deviltry, you can bet
on that--that voice was Ramon's. He's got a plan in his head to get us
out of here."
"Well, he'll have a man's-sized job on his hands," rejoined Buck,
calmly reloading the magazine of his rifle and running a cleaning rod
through the foul barrel.
The others employed their time in the same manner. Thus they waited
for what seemed an interminable age. Still there was no sign of the
Mexicans. The yard without was empty of life.
"If they don't show up in a few minutes, what say if we open the door
and make a rush for it?" asked Jack.
"As good an idea as any," rejoined Buck, "but what I would like to know
right now is what they can be doing."
"Queer, ain't it?" said Pete.
They all agreed that it was, but not one could hit upon an explanation
that seemed plausible.
Suddenly, Buck, who had been sniffing suspiciously for a few seconds,
gave a sharp exclamation.
"Do you fellows smell anything?"
"No----" began Jack, and then:
"Good heavens, yes! Something's on fire!"
"That's right," agreed Pete, without a quaver in his voice. "The
varmints hev set fire to the building from the rear."
"That's what!" rejoined Buck, "and we can't get within a mile of them.
I don't suppose there are any rifle holes in the specie room are there,
Mr. Geisler?"
"Nodt a vun," rejoined the German, in a peculiar voice, and then they
noticed, in the gloomy light of the closed-up place, that his face was
ashen white.
It was clear that the German was badly frightened. His knees seemed to
be knocking together, in fact. Small wonder, too. The sharp, acrid
smell of blazing wood was in the air now. They could hear the crackle
of the flames as they devoured the wooden outer walls of the specie
room.
"Come, cheer up, my man," Buck admonished the quaking German. "Why
you've stood it all through like a major, and----"
"Idt ain't dot. Idt ain't dose mis-er-able creasers dot I'm afraid
of," rejoined the German in a quavering voice.
"What then?"
"Dot room behindt us contains, besides der specie, almost a ton of
dynamite!"
"Great jumping wildcats!"
The exclamation dropped from Buck's lips. The others were too
thunderstruck to utter a word.
"There's only one thing to do," spoke up Pete, his words fairly
tumbling out of his mouth in his haste. "We must open the door and, at
a signal, make a rush for it. We may never get through, but it's
better than being blown up as we shall be if we remain here. The
insurrectos must have left their horses somewhere near at hand. Maybe
we can find them and escape."
"It's one chance in a thousand!" exclaimed Jack. "But perhaps this
will be the thousandth time."
"Let us pray so!" exclaimed the professor fervently.
Buck had sprung to the door. His hand was on the bar. He knew, as did
they all, that there was not an instant to lose. Their lives hung by a
hair. At any moment the flames might reach the dynamite and
then--annihilation, swift and terrible.
"Now!" he cried, dropping the bar. A strange light, not of fear but of
determination, gleamed in his eyes.
Clang!
The bar fell to the ground, and the besieged party dashed forth, firing
as they emerged.
Suddenly, from without, and just as the insurrectos espied the daring
sortie, there came the shrill notes of a bugle. At the same instant a
ringing cheer came over the top of the stockade.
What could it all mean? As if in a dream, the boys saw the insurrectos
picking up their rifles and rushing toward the gate. But before they
could reach it, a glorious sight greeted them.
A regiment of regular Mexican cavalry, the men with their carbines
unslung, pouring a disastrous hail into the swarming insurrectos,
suddenly swung through the shattered gateway.
Shouts and cries responded everywhere within the stockade. The
terrified insurrectos dropped their rifles and ran hither and thither
in mad, frenzied panic. It was every one for himself. Over the
stockade they clambered, many paying toll with their lives before the
carbines of Diaz's troopers.
But in the midst of the turmoil a clear, boyish voice arose.
"Back! Get back, for heaven's sake!"
The officer of the Mexican regulars heard, and wheeled his men. He
recognized the thrill of warning in Jack Merrill's tones.
Stumbling forward, the suddenly relieved party of Americans darted
toward the gate for their lives. On down the hillside they fled, with
the cavalry surging behind and about them.
"What is it? What is the matter?" gasped the officer in English, as
Jack stumbled along at his side.
The lad gasped out one word:
"Dynamite!"
Hardly had it fallen from his lips before the ground shook as if
convulsed with an earthquake. A red flame shot skyward behind them,
and a mighty, reverberating roar went rumbling and echoing over the
countryside.
The flames had reached the explosive.
Almost at the same instant a shower of embers, debris, and odds and
ends of all descriptions came showering about the retreating force.
Several were cut and bruised by the shower, but none seriously.
Fortunately, also, beyond causing several of the cavalry horses to bolt
in mad terror, no damage was done to the troops or our friends. The
situation was rapidly explained to the wondering officer whose name was
Captain Dominguez, in command of the force detailed to guard the
railroad.
"We learned at Rosario that you had come to the mine," he said, in
explanation of the troops' opportune arrival, "and, knowing that Madero
was in the habit of raiding mines and was in the neighborhood, we made
top speed to the rescue."
"And we're all mighty happy to meet you, you kin bet, captain," chimed
in Buck, "but ef yer hadn't arrived when you did, we would not have had
the pleasure."
"No, I can see that," rejoined the young officer, gazing off down the
hillside.
In every direction could be seen Mexican troopers pursuing rebels,
shooting them down, without mercy when fight was shown, in other cases,
making prisoners. The rout of the insurrectos was complete and final.
Suddenly a figure on horseback was seen coming at a hard gallop toward
the little group surrounding Captain Dominguez.
"It's Harding!" gasped Jack, as the figure drew closer, and indeed it
was the former West Pointer. But he was in sad case. His shirt was
torn almost from his back, his features blackened and seared, and a red
stain showed upon his chest.
"He was in that explosion, the precious scoundrel!" grated out Buck, as
his eye took in these details. "He was one of the fellers that set
that fire."
Straight for the little party Harding rode. But before he reached them
two Mexican troopers interposed. They raised their carbines and the
next moment would have been Harding's last, but for Jack.
"Don't let them fire!" he begged.
The captain shouted an order and the troopers lowered their weapons.
Straight on for the party rode Harding, toppling out of his saddle as
he reached them. The fellow was badly wounded. He had been struck by
a flying splinter in the explosion of the dynamite.
"Ah, a countryman of yours," remarked the captain, with a tinge of
sarcasm. "You should be proud of him, señors."
But Jack was on his knees beside Harding.
"Where is my father, Harding? Tell me quick!"
"I will," gasped out the wounded man. "Madero had him tied in that
grove yonder. He wished him to see the destruction of his mine, he
said, and----"
The man fainted. Rascal as they knew him to be, the boys were soon
applying such remedies as they could--all but Jack, that is. The boy,
on Harding's pony, was off at lightning speed for the grove Harding had
indicated. As he entered it, he spied Mr. Merrill tied, as Harding had
said, to a tree. Of the meeting between father and son we prefer to
let each reader draw his own mental picture.
"Merrill, forgive me!" breathed Harding, who had recovered from his
swoon a few moments after as Jack and his father came up from the grove.
"I may forgive you, Harding," rejoined Jack, "but I can never forget."
And forgive Jack did, as he showed by interceding for the man and
having him removed to a hospital near Rosario. Harding ultimately
recovered and of his further movements we have no knowledge. He fared
better, however, than Hickey, Divver and Rafter, who were captured by
the government forces and sentenced to death by a summary court-martial.
Mr. Merrill rapidly explained that he had ridden ten miles or more from
the mine with Harding before he became suspicious. He then asked
Harding point blank where his son was, and the fellow's reply had been
to give a peculiar whistle. Thereupon several insurrectos had leaped
from the bushes and made the mine owner captive. As Harding had told
Jack, Madero, with fiendish cruelty, had tied him in the grove to
witness the annihilation of his own mine.
After a short pause, during which restoratives were administered to the
almost exhausted Americans from the Mexican officers' field kit, they
headed for the mine to ascertain what damage had been done by the
explosion. Almost the first object that met their eyes as they neared
the stockade was a jagged break in the structure caused by a large
object that had come crashing down upon it. On closer view this proved
to be the steel safe in which the gold had been placed. On opening the
receptacle, everything was found intact, a fact which the makers of the
safe are now using as a testimonial, as you may have noticed as you
passed their Broadway store. The testimonial is signed by Conrad
Geisler, who is now Mr. Merrill's partner.
Well, there is not much more to tell of this part of the Border Boys'
adventures. As it may be of interest, however, to relate the further
history of the underground river and the Haunted Mesa, we shall set it
down here. Ramon escaped from the general disaster to the insurrectos
at the Esmeralda Mine, and apparently rode straight from there to the
mouth of the underground river he had long used to such good advantage.
At any rate, when the boys visited it later, they found that a
cunningly set explosion had completely blocked the passage for
navigation, and the secret route of the forgotten race was forever
closed to man. As for the Mesa, you can read all about it
scientifically described in Professor Wintergreen's monograph on the
subject.
The ponies and the redoubtable One Spot, Two Spot, and Three Spot were
located at the Mesa, where they had been left in charge of Ramon's men.
All were fat and in good condition, and Firewater was very glad to see
his young master again.
By the way, Bill Whiting is now stationed in charge at the important
railroad center of El Paso.
* * * * * *
"Wall," remarked Pete, as they rode toward the ranch one evening, "I
guess things 'ull be quiet now fer a while."
"Hope so," rejoined Buck Bradley. "I wired Stow ter bring my show ter
Maguez and you can all have free passes."
Jack thanked the genial showman on behalf of his companions, and then
reminded him that Ramon was still at large, although the insurrectos
were almost subjugated.
"Yes, consarn that pesky critter with the finest horse I ever set eyes
on,--and while he's alive ther'll be no peace along the border."
"That's right," agreed Pete. "He's a natural born trouble-maker. But
I guess so far as we are concerned we are through with him."
But Coyote Pete, accurate as were his usual judgments, was wrong in
this. Black Ramon and his horse will figure again in these stories,
and it will then be seen how the boys finally brought him to book for
his misdeeds.
* * * * * *
The shadows are falling over the plains and the foothills are purpling
in the clear twilight of the southwest. In the sunset sky the bright
lone star of evening glimmers. Let us now say good night and good luck
to the Border Boys till we meet them again in a new volume of their
adventures to be called: "THE BORDER BOYS WITH THE MEXICAN RANGERS."