CHAPTER XIII
WEARY CAPTIVES
"Rosemary, are you able to stand it?" Floyd put this question to hissister as the weary captives were urged along the trail by the Yaquis.
"We've just _got_ to stand it, Floyd," was the brave answer. "Helpmust come to us, and we must bear up until it does come."
"Oh, I can stand it all right--I really don't mind. But for you--itmust be terrible! And the worst of it is I can't do a thing to helpyou."
"Not now, no, Floyd," Rosemary answered, with a brave attempt at asmile. "But we must watch our chance. These Mexican Indians aren'tlike our own--or like our own used to be. They aren't half as smart.We ought to be able to escape from them if we get half a chance."
"Well, maybe, Rosemary. But they're bad enough if they aren't smart."
Floyd spoke with all the evidence on his side. For a moredisreputable, unsavory, desperate and wicked band of men it would bealmost impossible to find. Repulsive in face, dirty, tattered andtorn, wearing all sorts of cast off garments, a few in blankets,astride bony and broken horses, most of them, but each one armed withgun, revolver or knife, it was a crew of pirates, cut-throats,highwaymen to be carefully shunned.
"Well, I'm glad to see you keeping your courage up, Rosemary," remarkedher brother, trying to ease himself in the saddle. It was not veryfeasible, as the captives were partly tied to prevent their escape, andthey could not shift about as they pleased.
"Oh, we have to make the best of it, Floyd," his sister told him."They haven't treated us roughly yet."
"No, and I wonder at it."
"It's because they have taken us for a ransom, I'm sure. They know ifthey don't hand us over in good shape there will be no ransom money forthem."
"Who do you think they count on getting it from?"
"Our relatives, of course. Or maybe they think Uncle Sam willintervene on our behalf."
"I wish to goodness he would--that he'd send a band of U.S. regularsafter this bunch of pirates. Golly! How the Yaquis would scatter; eh,Rosemary?"
"Maybe we'll see that soon, Floyd. And maybe the boys from the DiamondX will come to our rescue. You know Bud's mother wrote that he and histwo eastern cousins had a ranch of their own now. My message ought toreach some one."
"I hope it does, Rosemary. But who's this coming up?"
The talk of brother and sister had attracted the attention of theIndians, and there had been muttered comments. Following this one ofthe knot of guards around the two captives had spurred ahead to wherePaz rode. Then back with the messenger came riding an Indian bettermounted and equipped than most of the members of the band.
He forced his horse between the steeds of Rosemary and Floyd, and gaveeach of them a grin he may have intended to be friendly.
"What's the idea--Mike?" asked Floyd.
"Mike? Why do you call him that?" asked Rosemary.
"Because he looks friendly enough to be an Irishman," was the answer."See, he has a turned up nose, I verily believe he has Irish blood inhim. Let's call him Mike."
"Mike" grinned, though doubtless he understood nothing of what was said.
"He does look Irish," agreed Rosemary. "But I don't see how."
The explanation probably was that some wandering, adventuring Irishmanhad married an Indian woman. The Yaquis, like many other Indian ornative tribes often intermarried. In fact it was this that in ameasure led to their downfall. For they lost the ideals of their race,disease crept in and to-day many a band of what was once a noble peopleis but a dragged-out remnant, steeped in crime.
The Yaquis were once among the best of the Mexican Indian tribes.Though not large in numbers they were clean-living and of highcharacter. The Spanish conquest of Mexico marked the beginning of theend for them, as it did many another Mexican race.
There was once a great civilization existing in the narrow strip ofland connecting North and South America. Now only the faintest tracesremain.
Once the Indian tribes flourished, they may even have had a writtenlanguage, of which now only a few idiograms remain. The men and womenwere skilled in basketry, pottery and the making of gold and silverornaments.
But they fell upon evil days, or evil days came to them, it matterslittle which, and they began to go down. Today there are only a fewthousands of the Yaquis left, and they have degenerated into trainrobbers along the Southern Pacific line. They live like beasts, theyhave mingled with negroes, degenerate Spaniards and Mexicans until itis almost an insult to apply the name "Indian" to them.
And it was a band of such natives as this that had captured Rosemaryand Floyd. Kept as much as possible to the confines of what might betermed, unofficially, a reservation, the Yaquis occasionally brokethrough the line of Mexican soldier guards and went on a rampage, oftencrossing the border into Arizona, as happened in the spring of 1921,when several Americans were killed in a border town.
It was an uprising of this same nature which had spelled trouble forRosemary and her brother. They had happened along at the wrong time,as it were.
Tired and weary, in body and spirit, the captives were urged forward."Mike" as our friends had dubbed him, seemed good natured enough, forhe kept a perpetual grin on his face. His mission seemed to be to ridebetween Rosemary and Floyd, and prevent any collusion to escape.
However there was no time or chance to think of that now. Thecavalcade filed along a narrow, rocky gorge, from which there was noside trail. Paz and some of his more intimate followers rode in thevan, and the rear guard was made up of ragged Indians--with apologiesfor using the name.
Rosemary and Floyd would not have had a chance had they been able toturn their horses and make a bolt for it. So they must ride on. Theywere too weary to talk now, they could only hope for the best. Whenwould the rescuers come?
A halt was made at noon, and some coarse food was passed to thecaptives. Rosemary shuddered at it and turned away.
"You must eat," Floyd told her. "Got to keep up your strength youknow."
And she managed to choke down a few mouthfuls.
The afternoon passed wearily. They were going deeper into themountains it seemed. There appeared to be some dispute between Paz onone side and a few of his followers on the other. And it seemed tohave to do with a place to camp for the night. The men wanted to stopwhile the sun was yet in sight, but Paz insisted on going on until itwas below the jagged peaks. Then he indicated a place where camp wasto be made.
Mike slid off his horse, and, loosening the ropes, indicated thatRosemary and Floyd were to do the same. So cramped and stiff wasRosemary that she fell in a heap as she slid from the saddle. With acry Floyd sprang to her aid, only to be thrust back by Mike.
"What do you mean?" yelled the boy. "I want to help mysister--you--you--"
He was spluttering with rage as he raised his hand, and looked aboutfor a rock with which to attack the Indian.
"Don't--Floyd!" called Rosemary calmly. "I am all right--just numb,that's all! Don't get into a fight. They may separate us!"
Indeed that did seem to be the orders given by Paz, who rode up amoment later. For Mike took Rosemary by the arm, and was leading heraway, while another Indian, dirty, greasy and with an evil grin on hisfat face, thrust Floyd to one side.
"Stop!" suddenly cried Rosemary. She swung free of Mike's grasp, andin an instant that individual was looking straight into the muzzle of asmall but very serviceable automatic.
Boy Ranchers Among the Indians; Or, Trailing the Yaquis Page 13