CHAPTER III
A SURPRISE
They reached--only just in time--the broken andcollapsed carriage with its two front wheels mere twisted andsplintered spokes. The moving picture boys reached it, and withstrong and capable hands pulled it back from the brink of theravine, 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 slightdifference--inches only--meant safety or death--terrible injury atbest, for the ravine was a hundred feet deep. But those few incheswere on the side of safety.
So evenly was the carriage poised, that only a little strength wasneeded to send it either way. But Joe and Blake pulled it back onthe unwrecked portion of the bridge approach.
The two men were still on the seat, but it had broken in themiddle, pitching them toward the center, and they were wedgedfast. Hank Duryee, the town livery driver, did not seem to behurt, though there was an anxious look on his face, and he wasvery pale, which was unusual for him.
As for the other man he seemed to have fainted. His eyes wereclosed, but his swarthy complexion permitted little diminution inhis color. There was a slight cut on his head, from which hadtrickled a little blood that ran down to his white collar.
"Easy, boys!" cautioned Hank, and his voice rasped out in thequiet that succeeded the staccato noise from the motor cycle. "Goeasy now! A touch'll send us down," and he gazed shudderingly intothe depths below.
"We've got you," Blake assured him, as he and Joe drew stillfarther back on the platform of the bridge what was left of thecarriage. As they did so one of the rear wheels collapsed, lettingthe seat down with a jerk.
"Oh!" gasped Hank, and a tremor seemed to go through theinsensible frame of the other.
"It's all right," Blake assured the livery stable driver. "Youcan't fall far."
"Not as far as down--there," and Hank pointed a trembling fingerinto 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 ofthe carriage.
"Only a little cut on the head, where he banged, up against thetop irons, I guess. A little water will fetch him around. My! Butthat 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. Ididn't want to take him out--he's an old spitfire anyhow, andhasn't been driven in a week. But this feller was in a hurry," andhe nodded toward the unconscious man, "and I had to bring him outwith Rex--the only horse in the stable just then.
"I said I was afraid we'd have a smash-up, and we did. The linebusted 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 forhim. 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 notanswer. He was bending back the bent frame of the dashboard tomore easily get out the swarthy man. Joe and Blake, seeing whathe was trying to do, helped him.
Soon they were able to lift out the stranger, but there was noneed of carrying him, for he suddenly opened his eyes, straightenedup and stood on his feet, retaining a supporting hand on Hank'sshoulder.
"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 hisnationality--Spanish, either from Mexico or South America.
"We're all right," put in Hank. "These young fellows saved us fromgoing over into the gulch. It was a narrow squeak, though."
"Ah!" The man uttered the exclamation, with a long sigh ofsatisfaction and relief. Then he put his hand to his forehead, andbrought it away with a little blood on it.
"It is nothing. It is a mere scratch and does not distress me inthe least," he went on, speaking very correct English, in hiscuriously accented voice. He appeared to hesitate a little to pickout the words and expressions he wanted, and, often, in suchcases, the wrong words, though correct enough in themselves, wereselected.
"I am at ease--all right, that is to say," he went on, with arather pale smile. "And so these young men saved us--saved ourlives? Is that what you mean, senor--I should say, sir?" and hequickly corrected his slip.
"I should say they did!" exclaimed Hank with an air ofsatisfaction. "Old Rex took matters into his own hands, or, ratherlegs, and we were just about headed for kingdom come when thesefellows pulled us back from the brink. As for Rex himself, I guesshe's gone where he won't run away any more," and leaning over thejagged edge of the bridge the stableman looked down on themotionless form of the horse. Rex had, indeed, run his last.
"It is all so--so surprising to me," went on the stranger. "It alloccurred with such unexpected suddenness. One moment we aredriving along as quietly as you please, only perhaps a trifleaccentuated, and then--presto! we begin to go too fast, and theleather thong breaks. Then indeed there are things doing, as yousay up here."
He smiled, trying, perhaps, to show himself at his ease. He wasrapidly recovering, not only from the fright, but from the effectsof the blow on the head which had caused the cut, and rendered himunconscious for a moment.
"It sure was a narrow squeak," declared Hank again. "I don't wantany closer call. I couldn't move to save myself, I was sodumbfounded, 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 cameafter you on the motor cycle. Tried to get ahead of you, but theold 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, andsome day I hope not only to repay the favor, but to show howgrateful I am in other ways. I am a stranger in this part of yourfine country, but I expect to be better acquainted soon. But whereis our horse?" he asked quickly, not seeming to understand whathad happened. "How are we to continue our journey?" and he lookedat his driver.
"We're at the end of it now, in more ways than one," Hankanswered, 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 ratherpuzzled accents. "I have engaged you to take me to a certainplace. There is an accident. We go through a fence with aresounding crash--Ah! I can hear that smash yet!" and he put hishands 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 donot comprehend--assimilate--no, comprehend--that is it. I do notcomprehend what you mean when you say we are at our journey'send."
"I'll tell you," exclaimed Hank, as he glanced at Joe and Blake ina manner that caused them to wonder. "You said you wanted tofind--"
"Pardon me--my card, gentlemen!" and the stranger extended arectangle of white on which was engraved the name _ViguesAlcando_.
Blake took it, and, as he did so, from the pocket whence theSpaniard had extracted the card, there fell a letter. Joe pickedit up, but, to his surprise it was addressed to himself and Blakejointly, and, in the upper left hand corner was the imprint of theFilm Theatrical Company.
"Why--why," began Joe. "This is for us! Look, Blake!"
"For you! That letter for you?" cried Mr. Alcando. "Are you themoving 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 havesaved my life! Why--I--I--er--I--Oh! To think of this happe
ningso! You are--you are--!" He put his hands to his head and seemedto sway.
"Look out! He's going to fall!" warned Blake, springing forward tocatch the Spaniard.
The Moving Picture Boys at Panama; Or, Stirring Adventures Along the Great Canal Page 3