CHAPTER XII.
A RIDE FOR THE HILLS.
But instead of complying with the demand, Coyote Pete did a strangething. He waved his hands above his head and rushed straight at the manwith the rifle. As he had expected, the pony the Mexican bestrode was,like most western animals, only half broken. The sight of this suddenfigure leaping toward it out of the brush caused it to wheel sharplywith a snort of dismay.
So unexpected was the maneuver that the Mexican, no less than hishorse, was taken by surprise. His rifle almost slipped from his fingersas he tried to seize the reins and control his pony. When once morehe turned, it was to find himself looking into the business-likemuzzle of Jim Cummings' pistol, which Pete had quickly jerked from theunconscious man's holster.
"Now, then, amigo," ordered Pete, "get off. Pronto!"
"But, hombre----" began the Mexican.
"Get off!"
Pete accompanied this command by baring his white teeth in suchterrifying fashion that the other quickly dismounted.
"Give me his lariat," ordered Pete to Jack, but never for an instanttaking his eyes off the Mexican.
Jack, glad of a chance to be of some use, sprang forward. In a trice hedetached the Mexican's lariat from his saddle horn and waited Pete'snext order.
"Tie him, and tie him good and tight," ordered the cow-puncher. "Don'tmind hurting him. These greasers have got a hide as tough as OldScratch himself."
It did not take Jack long to bind the follower of Black Ramon hand andfoot, and then, with a sarcastic apology, Pete tore off a strip ofhis not overclean shirt, rolled it in a ball, and shoved it into theMexican's mouth.
"There, he is hog-tied and silenced, with neatness and dispatch," hesaid. "Now for Cummings, and then we're off."
Cummings was still insensible, and the operation of tying him with hisown rawhide, and forcing a gag into his mouth didn't take long.
"I hate to ride without a lariat," said Pete, "but it can't be helped.And anyhow, we've got two good cayuses by as big a stroke of luck asever a cow-puncher had. You take that plug of the greaser's, Jack. I'vegot a fancy to this fellow of Cummings', here. And mind, if anybodysays a word to us you let me do the talking."
Soon afterward, both, on a further suggestion of Pete's, wrapped in thebound men's serapes--or cloaks,--the two adventurers set forward towardthe north.
"Now we're headed for God's country," grunted Pete, as he kept hiseyes fixed on the north star, which is the plainsman's as well as thesailor's night guide.
"How can you locate it without a compass?" asked Jack, as Pete informedhim how he had located their direction.
"By the outside stars of the Dipper, Jack," said Pete. "The good Lordput 'em there, I reckon, so as white men situated as you and I areshould have no trouble in finding the way to his country. For, you markmy words, Jack, there ain't no God's country south of the border. Itall belongs to the other fellow, and they're working for him in doubleshifts."
The ponies which they now bestrode were fine little animals--quick ascats on their feet and evidently hard as nails, for their coats were asdry to the touch as kindling wood, despite all the excitement they hadundergone.
"Feels good to have a horse between your legs again," said Pete, stillin a low, cautious voice, for they were by no means out of danger asyet.
"Yes," whispered Jack, "I've heard it said that a cow-puncher withouthis pony is only half a man."
"I guess maybe you're right," agreed Pete, urging forward his littleanimal by a dig in the sides.
"Say, Pete," whispered Jack suddenly, as they rode slowly forward underthe star-sprinkled heavens, "I do wish we could go back and make astrike for the freedom of the others. It seems kind of mean for us tobe safe and sound here, and leaving them back in the lion's mouth, soto speak."
"Don't worry about that, Jack. By getting over on to good Yankee soilwe are doing more to help them than we could in any other way. If weturned back now we might spoil everything, and as to being safe andsound---- Hark!"
Both reined in their ponies and listened intently. From far behind wasborne to their ears the distant noise of shouts and cries. Standing onthe elevation to which they had now attained, the sounds came throughthe clear night air with great distinctness.
"They're making a fine hullaballoo," commented Jack. "Do you thinkthey've found Cummings and the other?"
"Don't know. Guess not, though. The sounds seem to be coming from moreto the eastward than where we left them; but say, Jack, don't you hearanything else but hollering?"
"Why, yes, I do seem to hear a kind of queer sound; what is it?"
"The very worst sound we could get wind of, Jack--it's bloodhounds."
"Bloodhounds!" gasped Jack, who had read and heard much of the ferocityand tracking ability of the animals. "They will trace us down and tearus to pieces."
"Hum, you've bin readin' Uncle Tom's Cabin, I reckon," sniffed Pete."No, they won't tear us to pieces, Jack, but what they will do is toround us up and then set up the almightiest yelling and screechingand baying you ever heard. They'll bring the whole hornet's nest downaround our ears."
"What are we to do, Pete?" breathed Jack, completely at a loss in theface of this new peril, which seemed doubly hard to bear, coming as itdid when escape had seemed certain.
"Dunno. Just ride ahead, I reckon, that's all we can do, and thank ourlucky stars it ain't daylight. If only we was a spell farther into thehills, we might strike water, and that would throw them off."
"How would that confuse them?"
"Well, hounds can't track through water. It kills the scent. I'd giveseveral head of beef critters for a sight of a creek right now."
All this time they had been riding ahead, and although it was pitchydark they could tell that they were rising. Whether they were on atrail or not, they had no means of knowing. That the ground was roughand stony, though, they knew, for the ponies, sure-footed as they were,stumbled incessantly.
"Good thing none of Ramon's men reached out as far as this, or we'dsure be giving ourselves away every time one of these cayuses shakes afoot," grunted Pete.
"I wish it wasn't so black," whispered Jack, who was riding a little inadvance. "I can't see a thing ahead. I wonder if---- Oh!"
His pony had suddenly given a wild leap backward, missed its footing,and slid down some sort of a steep bank.
"Jumping gee whilkers, what in blazes!" began Pete, when in just thesame way he went sliding forward into space.
Both ponies fetched up, after stumbling several feet down a steepdeclivity, and the sound that their hoofs made as they did so was oneof the most welcome that the fugitives could have heard.
Splash! splash!
"Water!" exclaimed Pete. "Our blind luck is just naturally holding out."
"Is it a watercourse?" inquired Jack, "or just a hole."
Pete leaned over, holding on by crooking his left foot against thecantle of his saddle.
"It's a creek, and flowing lively, too," he announced, as he held hishand in the water, "and incidentally, as the newspaper fellers say, I'mthirsty."
"So am I," agreed Jack. "Let's have a drink. Besides, we don't know howlong it may be before we get another."
"You've the makings of a cow-puncher in you," approved Pete, slippingfrom his saddle. Side by side the two lay on the brink of the streamand drank till they could drink no more. The water was cool, thoughtainted with a slightly alkaline taste common to most mountain creeksin that region. Refreshed, they stood up once more and listened. Thebaying still came incessantly, accompanied by shouts of encouragementfrom the riders behind the dogs. It was getting unpleasantly near, also.
"Time for us to cut stick," grunted Pete, swinging himself into hissaddle once more. Jack did the same.
"Now to fool 'em," chuckled the cow-puncher.
The ponies' noses were turned up stream, and the sure-footed littleanimals rapidly traversed the slippery rocks and holes of the creek bed.
"These are great little broncs," said Jack with a sigh, "
but don't Iwish I had Firewater. I wonder if I'll ever see him again?"
"Sure you will, boy," comforted Pete, although in his own heart he hadserious doubts of it. Pete knew that a Mexican loves a good pony aboveall things, and that once having possession of Firewater, Ramon wouldlet him pass out of his hands willingly, seemed unlikely.
Every now and then, as they stumbled forward in the darkness, theypaused and listened. The baying had suddenly stopped, and then brokeout afresh with renewed vigor. It had a puzzled note in it, too.
"They're stuck for a time," grunted Pete, "but we haven't shaken themoff yet. Yip-ee! hear them dogs holler! They've found the place wherewe entered the water."
"Then we are out of danger?"
"Not yet, boy. We'll not be out of danger till we're over the borderand among our own folks. These greasers are no fools, and in a fewminutes they'll realize that we've taken to the water, and be along thebank after us."
"But if we turn out here they won't know in which direction we'vegone," argued Jack. "Let's leave the creek here and turn north again."
They had been traveling due east through the night, and he waved hishand as he spoke, toward the left bank of the stream.
"Kiddie, you've got horse sense, all right," approved Pete. "I guessthat's the best thing for us to do. Anyhow, we've gone as far as wewant to in this direction, and it's time to head for home again."
Home--never had the word held so sweet a sound for either of the twoimperiled fugitives.
The Border Boys on the Trail Page 12