A SURPRISE
They reached--only just in time--the broken and
collapsed carriage with its two front wheels mere twisted and
splintered spokes. The moving picture boys reached it, and with
strong and capable hands pulled it back from the brink of the
ravine, over which it hung. In the depths below the horse lay,
very still and quiet.
"Pull back!" directed Blake, but Joe needed no urging. A slight
difference--inches only--meant safety or death--terrible injury at
best, for the ravine was a hundred feet deep. But those few inches
were on the side of safety.
So evenly was the carriage poised, that only a little strength was
needed to send it either way. But Joe and Blake pulled it back on
the unwrecked portion of the bridge approach.
The two men were still on the seat, but it had broken in the
middle, pitching them toward the center, and they were wedged
fast. Hank Duryee, the town livery driver, did not seem to be
hurt, though there was an anxious look on his face, and he was
very pale, which was unusual for him.
As for the other man he seemed to have fainted. His eyes were
closed, but his swarthy complexion permitted little diminution in
his color. There was a slight cut on his head, from which had
trickled a little blood that ran down to his white collar.
"Easy, boys!" cautioned Hank, and his voice rasped out in the
quiet that succeeded the staccato noise from the motor cycle. "Go
easy now! A touch'll send us down," and he gazed shudderingly into
the depths below.
"We've got you," Blake assured him, as he and Joe drew still
farther back on the platform of the bridge what was left of the
carriage. As they did so one of the rear wheels collapsed, letting
the seat down with a jerk.
"Oh!" gasped Hank, and a tremor seemed to go through the
insensible frame of the other.
"It's all right," Blake assured the livery stable driver. "You
can't fall far."
"Not as far as down--there," and Hank pointed a trembling finger
into the depths of the ravine.
"Can you get out--can you walk?" asked Joe.
"Yes. I'm more scared than hurt," Hank made answer.
"How about him?" asked Blake, motioning to the other occupant of
the carriage.
"Only a little cut on the head, where he banged, up against the
top irons, I guess. A little water will fetch him around. My! But
that was a close shave!"
He staggered out on the broken bridge. His legs were unsteady,
through weakness and fear, but not from any injury.
"How did it happen?" asked Joe.
"Horse got scared at something--I don't know what--and bolted. I
didn't want to take him out--he's an old spitfire anyhow, and
hasn't been driven in a week. But this feller was in a hurry," and
he nodded toward the unconscious man, "and I had to bring him out
with Rex--the only horse in the stable just then.
"I said I was afraid we'd have a smash-up, and we did. The line
busted near Baker's place, and--well, here we are."
"Better here than--down there," observed Joe in a low voice.
"That's right," agreed Hank. "Now let's see what we can do for
him. Hope he isn't much hurt, though I don't see how he could be."
"Who is he?" asked Blake, but the livery stable driver did not
answer. He was bending back the bent frame of the dashboard to
more easily get out the swarthy man. Joe and Blake, seeing what
he was trying to do, helped him.
Soon they were able to lift out the stranger, but there was no
need of carrying him, for he suddenly opened his eyes, straightened
up and stood on his feet, retaining a supporting hand on Hank's
shoulder.
"Where--where are we?" he asked, in a dazed way. "Did we fall?"
He spoke with an accent that at once told Blake and Joe his
nationality--Spanish, either from Mexico or South America.
"We're all right," put in Hank. "These young fellows saved us from
going over into the gulch. It was a narrow squeak, though."
"Ah!" The man uttered the exclamation, with a long sigh of
satisfaction and relief. Then he put his hand to his forehead, and
brought it away with a little blood on it.
"It is nothing. It is a mere scratch and does not distress me in
the least," he went on, speaking very correct English, in his
curiously accented voice. He appeared to hesitate a little to pick
out the words and expressions he wanted, and, often, in such
cases, the wrong words, though correct enough in themselves, were
selected.
"I am at ease--all right, that is to say," he went on, with a
rather pale smile. "And so these young men saved us--saved our
lives? Is that what you mean, señor--I should say, sir?" and he
quickly corrected his slip.
"I should say they did!" exclaimed Hank with an air of
satisfaction. "Old Rex took matters into his own hands, or, rather
legs, and we were just about headed for kingdom come when these
fellows pulled us back from the brink. As for Rex himself, I guess
he's gone where he won't run away any more," and leaning over the
jagged edge of the bridge the stableman looked down on the
motionless form of the horse. Rex had, indeed, run his last.
"It is all so--so surprising to me," went on the stranger. "It all
occurred with such unexpected suddenness. One moment we are
driving along as quietly as you please, only perhaps a trifle
accentuated, and then--presto! we begin to go too fast, and the
leather thong breaks. Then indeed there are things doing, as you
say up here."
He smiled, trying, perhaps, to show himself at his ease. He was
rapidly recovering, not only from the fright, but from the effects
of the blow on the head which had caused the cut, and rendered him
unconscious for a moment.
"It sure was a narrow squeak," declared Hank again. "I don't want
any closer call. I couldn't move to save myself, I was so
dumbfounded, and the carriage would have toppled down in another,
second if you boys hadn't come along and hauled it back."
"We saw you pass Mr. Baker's house," explained Blake, "and we came
after you on the motor cycle. Tried to get ahead of you, but the
old machine laid down on us."
"But we got here in time," added Joe.
"You did indeed! I can not thank you enough," put in the Spaniard,
as Joe and Blake both classed him. "You have saved my life, and
some day I hope not only to repay the favor, but to show how
grateful I am in other ways. I am a stranger in this part of your
fine country, but I expect to be better acquainted soon. But where
is our horse?" he asked quickly, not seeming to understand what
had happened. "How are we to continue our journey?" and he looked
at his driver.
"We're at the end of it now, in more ways than one," Hank
answered, with a smile. "You're just where you wanted to go,
though not in the style I calculated on taking you."
"But I do not comprehend, sir," said the Spaniard, in rather
puzzled accents. "I have engaged you to take me to a certain
place. There is an accident. We go through a fence with a
resounding crash--Ah! I can hear that smash yet!" and he put his
hands to his ears in a somewhat dramatic manner.
"Then everything is black. Our horse disappears, and--"
"He's down there, if you want to know _where_ he disappeared to,"
broke in Hank, practically.
"It is no matter--if he is gone," went on the Spaniard. "But I do
not comprehend--assimilate--no, comprehend--that is it. I do not
comprehend what you mean when you say we are at our journey's
end."
"I'll tell you," exclaimed Hank, as he glanced at Joe and Blake in
a manner that caused them to wonder. "You said you wanted to
find--"
"Pardon me--my card, gentlemen!" and the stranger extended a
rectangle of white on which was engraved the name _Vigues
Alcando_.
Blake took it, and, as he did so, from the pocket whence the
Spaniard had extracted the card, there fell a letter. Joe picked
it up, but, to his surprise it was addressed to himself and Blake
jointly, and, in the upper left hand corner was the imprint of the
Film Theatrical Company.
"Why--why," began Joe. "This is for us! Look, Blake!"
"For you! That letter for you?" cried Mr. Alcando. "Are you the
moving picture boys?"
"That's what they call us," answered Joe. "This is Blake Stewart,
and I'm his chum, Joe Duncan."
"Is it possible--is it possible!" cried Mr. Alcando. "And you have
saved my life! Why--I--I--er--I--Oh! To think of this happening
so! You are--you are--!" He put his hands to his head and seemed
to sway.
"Look out! He's going to fall!" warned Blake, springing forward to
catch the Spaniard.