Bert Wilson at Panama

by Madeline Leslie

  CHAPTER III

  A GALLANT COMRADE

  As he flew on, he heard the shrill whistle of the engine and the ringingof its bell. The train was getting ready to move. Groups of workmen,tools in hand, were coming from the ravine, and the passengers, glad thatthe wearisome wait was over, were getting on the platform, ready to climbinto the cars. He let out a link and reached the train just as theengineer was getting into his cab. Tom blurted out the facts of Dick'scapture, and the conductor, coming up just then, willingly consented tohold the train a few minutes longer.

  To carry out Bert's instructions was with Tom the work of a moment, andthen, with pockets crammed to bursting, he sought out Melton, thecattleman.

  That individual, a grizzled weather beaten veteran of the plains,listened with the liveliest sympathy and indignation. His eyes, beneathhis shaggy brows fairly blazed as Tom panted out the story.

  "The dogs! The whelps!" he cried, as he brought down his gnarled fistwith a tremendous thump. "If I were only twenty years younger or ahundred pounds lighter, I'd come with you myself. But I'd only hold youback if I went on foot. But you'll see me yet," he went on savagely;"I'll fix up things at Montillo as you ask, and then I'll get a horse andcome after you. I thought my fighting days were over, but I've still gotone good fight under my belt. Go ahead, my boy. You're the real stuffand I wish I had a son like you. You make me proud of being an American.I'll do my best to be in at the death, and God help those greasers if Iget them under my guns."

  His warmth and eagerness proved that Bert had made no mistake inenlisting him as their ally at this time of deadly need. With a ferventword of thanks and a crushing hand grip, Tom leaped from the train andsped back to the comrade who was impatiently awaiting him. A hurriedreport of his mission and they were off on the trail.

  What was at the end of that trail? Dick, alive or dead? Rescue ordefeat? A joyful reunion or graves for three? All they knew was that,whatever awaited them, it was not disgrace. And they grimly pulled theirbelts tighter and pressed forward.

  As they climbed upward they came to an open space from which they had awide view of the surrounding country. As they looked back to the south,they heard the faint whistle of the departing train and saw the thin veilof smoke that it left behind. Not until that moment did they realize howutterly alone they were. It was the snapping of the last link that boundthem to civilization. With the swiftness of a kaleidoscope their wholelife had changed. That morning, without the slightest idea of what fatehad in store for them, they had been together, exchanging jest andbanter; now one of their comrades was a captive in the power of desperatebrigands and they were on their way to save him or die with him. It wasa forlorn hope; but forlorn hopes have a way of winning out in thisworld, where grit is at a premium, and although they were sobered at theawful odds against them, they were not dismayed.

  If they should be too late! This was the terrible fear that hauntedthem. Already the afternoon had advanced and their shadows were growinglonger behind them. Bert consulted his watch. Night comes on suddenlyin those latitudes and there were only a few hours of the preciousdaylight left. Whatever they did that day would have to be done beforedarkness set in. It was difficult enough to follow the trail bydaylight, but at night it would be utterly impossible. Since they hadnot killed Dick at once the probability was that his life would be safeduring the flight. But at night they would be resting, with nothing todo but drink and gamble and indulge in every vice of their depravednatures. What deviltry might come to the surface, what thirst for bloodand death that could only be slaked in the torture of their captive!Nine-tenths of the world's crime is committed under cover of the night,and it is not without reason that Satan has been called the "Prince ofDarkness."

  Such thoughts as these gave an added quickness to their steps. The wayled steadily uphill. The path was rough and they tripped often over thetangled undergrowth. Long creepers reached down like snakes to graspthem from the branches overhead. Once they narrowly escaped atreacherous bog that got a firm grip on Tom's feet, and from which Bertonly pulled him out by the utmost exertion of his strength. At timesthey lost the trail altogether, and fumed for nearly an hour before theytook up the thread again. At the brook through which Dick's captors hadwalked their horses, they had almost begun to despair, when anexclamation of Tom's showed that he had found the spot where they hadleft the water. But through all these vexations, they stuck to the workwith dogged tenacity. Then suddenly, almost without warning, night camedown on them like a blanket. There was nothing of the long dusk andwaning light common to northern climes. Five minutes earlier there waslight enough for them to read by. Five minutes later and they could notsee their hand before their face.

  "Well, Tom, old scout," said Bert, "it's no go for to-day. We've got togo into camp."

  "Yes," agreed Tom, bitterly, "we've done our best, but our best isn'tgood enough. Poor Dick----"

  "Brace up, old fellow," replied Bert, feigning a cheerfulness he did notfeel, "we'll get there yet. To-morrow's a new day. And remember thatthis same darkness is holding up the guerillas too. They've got to gointo camp and they're not getting any further ahead of us. Likely enoughthey'll feel pretty secure now and they won't be stirring so earlyto-morrow, while we'll be afoot at the first streak of daylight. Whatwe've got to do now is to figure out the best and safest way to spend thenight."

  Near the spot where they were when darkness had overtaken them, was agrassy knoll, at the edge of which uprose a giant rock. At the foot ofthis they drew together enough of branches and shrubs to make a rude bed,and prepared to settle down and spend as best they could the hours beforethe coming of the dawn. They did not dare to make a fire, lest someprying eyes might discover their location. They had nothing to cookanyway, but the fire would have served to keep up their spirits and thesmoke would have kept off the mosquitoes that hovered over them inswarms. It would have helped also to drive the chill from their bones,brought on by the heavy mists that rose from the lush vegetation and settheir teeth to chattering. They drew close together for thecompanionship, and munched their bread and meat in silence. They werefeeling the reaction that follows sustained effort and great excitement,and their hearts were too sick and sore for speech.

  Then suddenly while they brooded--as suddenly as the sun had set--themoon arose and flooded the world with glory.

  It put new life into the boys. They took heart of hope. Their mentalbarometer began to climb.

  "I say, Bert," exclaimed Tom, eagerly voicing the thought that struckthem both at once, "couldn't we follow the trail by moonlight?"

  "I don't know," answered Bert, quite as excitedly. "Perhaps we can.Let's make a try at it."

  They started to their feet and hurried to the spot where they had leftthe trail. Bathed in that soft luminous splendor, it certainly seemed asthough they should have no difficulty in following it as easily as byday. But they soon found their mistake. It was an unreal light, a fairylight that fled from details and concealed rather than revealed them. Itlay on the ground like a shimmering, silken mesh, but through itstremulous beauty they could not detect the signs they sought. Theyneeded the merciless, penetrating light of day. Their hopes were dashed,but they had to yield to the inevitable. They were turning backdejectedly to their improvised camp, when Bert stopped short in histracks.

  "What was that?" he whispered, as he grasped Tom's arm.

  "I don't hear anything," returned Tom.

  "I did. Listen."

  They stood like stones, scarcely venturing to breathe. Then Tom, too,caught the sound. It was the faint, far-off tramp of horses. Bert threwhimself down with his ear to the ground. A moment later he jumped to hisfeet.

  "Three horses at least," he said quickly. "Get in the shadow of the rockand have your gun ready."

  They crouched down where it was blackest and strained their eyes alongthe road up which they had come. Nearer and nearer came the cautioustread, and their fingers fidgeted on t
he trigger. Then a faint blurappeared on the moonlit path. Another moment and it resolved itself intoa burly figure riding a wiry broncho and leading two others. Themoonlight fell full on his rugged face and the boys gave a simultaneousgasp.

  "Melton!" they cried, as they rushed toward him.

  At the first sound, the newcomer had grasped a carbine that lay acrosshis saddle, and in a flash the boys were covered. Then, as he recognizedthem, he lowered the weapon and grinned delightedly. In another secondhe was on the ground and his hands were almost wrung off in franticwelcome.

  "Guessed it right the first time," he chuckled. "Melton sure enough.You didn't think I was bluffing, did you, when I said I'd come? If I'dleft you two young fellows to make this fight alone, I could never havelooked a white man in the face again. We Americans have got to sticktogether in this God-forsaken country. It's a long time since I'veridden the range and taken pot-shots at the greasers, but I guess Ihaven't forgotten how. But now let me get these bronchos hobbled andthen we'll have a gabfest."

  With the deftness of an' old frontiersman, he staked out the horses wherethe grazing was good, and then the three sought the shelter of the rock.The boys were jubilant at this notable addition to their forces. Hisskill and courage and long experience made him invaluable. And theirhearts warmed toward this comparative stranger who had made their quarrelhis, because they were his countrymen and because he saw in them a spiritkindred to his own. Not one in a thousand would have left his businessand risked his life with such a fine disregard of the odds against him.Up to this time they had had only a fighting chance; now they werebeginning to feel that it might be a winning chance.

  The old cattleman settled his huge bulk on the pile of boughs and drewhis pipe from his pocket. Not until it was filled and lighted anddrawing well, would he "unlimber his jaw," to use his own phrase, andtell of the day's experience.

  "I figured it all out on the trail," he began, as he leaned backcomfortably against the rock, "and the minute we got to Montillo, I madea bee line to the American Consul. A fellow in brass buttons at the doorwanted my card and told me I would have to wait in the anteroom. But I'ma rough and ready sort of fellow--always believe in taking the bull bythe horns and cutting out the red tape--and I pushed him out of the wayand streaked right into the consul's private office. I guessed the oldman was kind o' shocked by my manners--or my lack of them--but he's agood sort all right, and when I gave him straight talk and told him Iwanted him to mix war medicine right away, pronto, he got busy on thejump. He sent out one of his men to get me three of the best horses thatcould be had and then he scurried round with me to the big Mogul of thetown--sort of mayor and chief of police rolled into one. I ain't muchon the lingo, but I could see that the old boy was handing out a prettystiff line of talk, and that the mayor was balky and backing up in theshafts. Not ugly, you know--anything but that. He was a slickproposition--that mayor. Smooth as oil and spreading on the salve afoot thick. Shrugging his shoulders and fairly wringing his hands. Sosorry that anything had happened to these good Americanos whom he lovedas though they were his brothers. He was desolated, broken-hearted--butwhat could he do? And every other word was manana--meaning tomorrow.That word is the curse of this country. Everything is manana--and thenwhen to-morrow comes, it's manana again."

  "Well, the old man stood this for a while, and then a sort of steely lookcame into his eyes that meant trouble and he sailed into him. Say, itdid my heart good. Told him there wasn't going to be any manana in this.If there was, Mexico City would hear of it and Washington would hear ofit, and before he knew it he'd be wishing he were dead. Those boys hadto be helped mighty quick. He must call out his guards, get a troop ofcavalry and send them off on the run. I backed up his play by lookingfierce and rolling my eyes and resting my hand kind o' careless like onmy hip pocket. I guess the mayor had visions of sudden death at thehands of a wild and woolly Westerner--one of those 'dear Americanos whomhe loved as a brother--and he came down like Davy Crockett's coon. Hestarted ringing all sorts of bells on his desk and sending this one hereand the other one there, and promised by all the saints that he'd havethem on the trail within an hour or two. To make it surer I asked theconsul as a special favor to say that if they didn't come, I'd be back ina day or two--drop in kind o' casual as it were--to know the reasonwhy."

  He chuckled, as he refilled his pipe and went on:

  "Of course, I couldn't wait around there on any such chance as that. Wewent straight back to the consul's office and these three horses werewaiting for me. They ain't much to brag of and I've got some on my ranchthat could lay all over them. But they're gritty little beasts and thebest that could be got on such short notice. The consul lent me hisrifle which seems to be a pretty good one, and I've got the pair ofrevolvers that I always carry with me.

  "Then I struck the spurs pretty sharply into the broncho and lighted out.I knew there wasn't much daylight left and we certainly did sometraveling. I wanted to get up to you before dark if I could, but you hadtoo big a start. I had no trouble in following the trail--I've trackedSioux Indians before now, and these Mexicans are babies compared to them,when it comes to covering up--and when the dark came on I knew I wasn'tvery far behind. Then as the horses were still full of go, I justdropped the reins on their neck and let them meander along. So manyhorses have passed this way that I felt sure they would get the scent andkeep on in the right direction. And as you see I wasn't very far out.

  "Well," he ruminated, "I guess that's about all."

  "All!" exclaimed Bert, warmly. "As if that wasn't enough. I never knewa finer or more generous thing. You've put us in your debt for life."

  "Yes," broke in Tom, "for sheer pluck and goodness of heart----"

  "Come, come," laughed Melton, "that's nothing at all. It's I who owe youa lot for the chance to get into such a lively scrap as this promises tobe. I was getting rusty and beginning to feel that I was out of it. Butnow I feel as though twenty years had dropped away since this morning,and I'm just aching to hear the bark of a gun. It takes me back to thewild old days, when a man's life depended upon his quickness with thetrigger. My blood is shooting through my veins once more, and, bythunder, I'm just as young at this moment as either of you fellows."

  "Did you get any idea at Montillo who this guerilla chief might be?"asked Bert.

  "Why, yes," replied Melton, slowly and almost reluctantly. "Of coursethey're only guessing, and they may not have the right dope. But whilethe consul was spelling with that mayor fellow, I caught every once in awhile the word 'El Tigre.' That means 'the Tiger' in our language, andon our way back to the office he told me enough to show how well the namefits him. Some of the stories--but there," he broke off, checkinghimself abruptly, "it's getting late, and we've got to be stirring at thefirst streak of daylight. Now you fellows turn in and I'll sit here andfigure things out a little."

  Bert and Tom vigorously protested that they would take turns in watching,but he waved them off with a good humor that still had in it a touch offinality.

  "Not a bit of it," he said. "More than once I've gone days and nightstogether without a wink of sleep, and felt none the worse for it. I'm atough old knot, but you young fellows have got to have your sleep.Besides, I've got a lot of things I want to think out before morning."

  Under his kindly but forceful persistence, there was nothing else to bedone without offending him, and he had done too much for them not to havehis way in this. So, under protest, they stretched their weary bodies onthe rude couch they had prepared. At first their minds were so full ofanxious thoughts about Dick that it seemed as though they couldn't sleep.But old nature had her way with them and before long they were lost inthe sleep of utter exhaustion.

  "Mighty lucky I stopped that fool tongue of mine in time," mused Melton,as he looked at their tired faces, "or there would have been no sleep forthem this night."

  For it was a gruesome story that the consul had told him that afternoon.A fearful reckoning
would be demanded of the "Tiger" at the day ofjudgment. A more villainous character could not be found in the lengthand breadth of Mexico. Awful tales were told of him and others morehorrible _could_ not be told. That he was a robber and murderer wentwithout saying. Every bandit chief was that. Those were mere everydayincidents of the "profession." But the evil preeminence of the Tiger layin his love of torture for its own sake. He reveled in blood and tears.He was a master of devilish ingenuity. The shrieks of the victims werehis sweetest music. He was, morally, a cross between an Apache Indianand a Chinese executioner. There were whispers of babies roasted inovens, of children tortured before the eyes of bound and helpless parentsuntil the latter became raving maniacs, of eyes gouged out and noses cutoff and faces carved until they were only a frightful caricature ofhumanity. His band was composed of scoundrels almost as hardened ashimself and with them he held all the nearby country in terror. Rewardswere out for his capture dead or alive, but he laughed at pursuers and sofar had thwarted all the plans of the Government troops.

  And this was the man into whose hands Dick had fallen. The boys hadwondered why the bandit, if he meant to kill Dick at all had not done soat once. Melton shook with rage as he thought that perhaps he knew thereason. Perhaps at this very moment----

  But such thoughts unmanned one, and, hoping that Providence would provekinder than his fears, he resolutely turned his mind in other channels.

  And there was plenty to think about. He had been engaged in manydare-devil adventures in his varied life, but, as he admitted to himselfwith a smile half grave, half whimsical, there were few that heremembered so desperate as this. He did not underrate the enemy. Likemost Western men, he had a contempt for "greasers," but he knew that itwas not safe to carry that contempt too far. An American, to be sure,might tackle two or three Mexicans and have a fair chance of coming outwinner, but when the odds were greater than that his chances were poor.But in this case the odds would probably be ten to one or more. Then,too, these were men whose lives were forfeit to the law--double-dyedmurderers who could look for nothing but a "short shrift and a long rope"if they were captured. They would fight with the fierceness of corneredrats. Moreover, they would be on the defensive and in a country wherethey knew every foot of ground and could seize every advantage.Altogether the outlook was grave, and it speaks volumes for the characterof the man that his spirits rose with danger and he would have beenbitterly disappointed if he were cheated of the promised fight.

  Absorbed in his thoughts, the night passed quickly, and as the first rayof light shot across the eastern sky, he roused the boys from slumber.

  "Time to get a move on," he announced cheerily. "A bite of grub andwe'll be off. The horses can make better time in the cool of themorning, and if we have any luck we may strike those fellows beforethey've had time to get the sleep out of their eyes."

  His energy found an echo in that of the boys, and in a few minutes theirmeagre breakfast had been despatched, the horses saddled and they had hitthe trail.

  The path wound steadily upward. It was too narrow for them to rideabreast, and Melton rode in advance, scanning the road with the eye of ahawk. Three hours passed, and just as they were nearing the top of theplateau, the leader suddenly stopped. With uplifted hand to enjoinsilence, he turned into the dense forest at the side of the path anddismounted. Bert and Tom followed suit.

  "I smell smoke," Melton whispered. "There's a campfire not far off."

  And as a vagrant breeze strayed toward them, the boys, too, sniffed theunmistakable odor of smoke.

  "Of course," went on Melton in a low tone, "it's no sure thing that thiscomes from the camp of the fellows we're after. But all the chances liethat way. We'll tie our horses here and go ahead on foot. See that yourguns are handy and don't step on any loose twigs."

  A moment later and the bronchos were securely tied, and, silent asghosts, they crept up the woodland path.