CHAPTER XIV.
"DEATH TO THE GRINGOES!"
It was broad daylight when the lads awoke. About them the life of thecamp had been astir for some time, in fact. Bugles rang out cheerilyand ragged troopers hastened hither and thither, with fodder or bucketsof water for their mounts, for in Madero's flying squadron each manlooked after his own animal, with the exception of a small forcedetailed to commissariat duty. From the village below, curious-eyedMexicans began pouring into camp with the earliest dawn, and by thetime the three involuntary imposters were out of their tent and haddoused each other with cold water, the place presented a scene oflively activity and bustle.
"Sitting on the edge of a volcano seems to agree with us," remarkedJack, as the three sauntered off to join Bob Harding, who was standingoutside his tent door, smoking a cigarette, a bad habit he had pickedup from the Mexicans.
Indeed, three more manly, rugged lads would have been hard to find.Under their tanned skins the bright blood sparkled, and there was asurety in their long, swinging stride and the confident set of theirshoulders that made one feel a certainty that there was a trio thatwould be able to take care of itself in any ordinary emergency.
Refreshed, even by the few hours slumber, and with sharp-set appetites,the boys felt altogether different persons from the three bedraggledyouths who had been jounced through the tunnel, and later thrown intosuch a perplexing combination of circumstances.
"I feel fit for anything," Ralph confided to Jack.
"Good boy," rejoined his companion, throwing his arm about the Easternlad's neck; "we'll come out all right. I'm confident of it."
"Unless the real Con Divver, Jim Hickey and Ted Rafter happen to showup," put in the practical Walt, with a half-grin.
"Botheration take you, Walt," exclaimed Ralph, in comic petulance;"you're the original laddie with a bucket of cold water. As we figuredit out last night, we shall be far away from here on our way to theEsmeralda mine before Ramon and the real soldiers of fortune whose famewe have appropriated are anywhere near here."
"I hope so, for our sakes," muttered Walt, half to himself. Practicalminded as Walt was by nature, he saw only too clearly the imminentperil in which they were moving. "Sitting on the edge of a volcano,"was the way Jack had put it. He had not stated the case a bit toostrongly. At any moment, for all they knew, Ramon or one of his menmight arrive with the true story, and then, where would they be?
At the conference in the tent the night before, the three lads hadagreed on a definite course of action. This was to get as close to theEsmeralda as they could, and then make a bold dash for Mr. Merrill andtheir friends. If Bob Harding chose to join them, well and good. Ifhe did not--well, they could not force him. Somehow, both Jack andWalt had reached the conclusion that Bob, for all his vivacity and goodhumor and apparent courage, would prove a "rotten reed" in a moment ofstress. How accurately they had gauged his character, we shall see.This plan, as our readers will agree, was a sensible one, and,moreover, had the merit of being the only way out of their dilemma.But it all hinged on one thing, namely, on their departing before Ramonor any of his followers arrived and denounced them.
Breakfast in the insurrecto camp was a peculiar meal. The officersmessed together, and, of course, the boys joined them. Once or twice,Jack, looking up from his peppery stew, noticed one or another of theinsurrecto officers eyeing either himself or his companions curiously.
"They think you're awful youthful looking to have done all the thingscredited to you," whispered Bob Harding.
After the meal was despatched, the boys expected some sort of orders toemanate from the general's tent, but apparently he was in no hurry tomove forward till the errand upon which he had announced he meant tosend the Americans, had been accomplished. The morning was spent bythe three lads in strolling about the camp, striving their utmost toappear at their ease, but starting nervously every time an out-ridercame into camp. Every hoof-beat upon the road was eloquent withsignification for them. Ramon could not be far off now. In thiswearing manner passed the morning hours. For some time they had seennothing of Bob Harding, when suddenly, loud voices, in which that oftheir friend predominated, reached them. The sounds came from behind athick clump of manzanita bushes, where several of the officers had beenwhiling away the hours at a native gambling game. Among them, weregret to say, had been Bob Harding.
As the boys, attracted by the disturbance, came up, they saw the youngAmerican on his feet in the midst of a group of native officers, whowere clustered about him, angrily demanding something. From a handfulof gold which the young soldier of fortune clutched, it was evidentthat he had been a winner, but that some dispute had arisen over hissuccess.
Suddenly, and without the slightest warning, the young Mexican who hadbeen the most insistent of the apparent objectors, drew his sword andrushed upon Harding, who was unarmed. He threw up his arm as thethrust came, and succeeded in deflecting it at the cost of a slash onthe back of his hand.
At the same instant he ducked nimbly, and, rushing in under theswordsman's guard, he planted a blow upon the Mexican's jaw that senthim reeling backward, waving his arms round and round, like a windmill.With a howl of fury, the man's companions made a rush for Harding.
"They're going to rush him!" whispered Jack to the others.
"So I see," rejoined Walt, grimly clenching his fists.
As the charge descended on Bob Harding, he suddenly found three of hiscountrymen at his side.
"Thank goodness you're here," he breathed, and that was all he had timeto say before the mob was upon them.
Jack had just time to deflect a sword blade, when he saw a terrificblow aimed at him with the butt of a rifle. He dodged just in time,and, as the stock went whizzing by his ear, he knocked the dealer ofthe blow flat on his back. In the meantime, Walt and Ralph had beengiving good accounts of themselves, and Bob Harding had succeeded indisarming one of his opponents.
But they were by no means in possession of the victory yet. With howlsof fury, the companions of the sprawling Mexicans charged once more,and suddenly Jack, after dealing one of them a staggering blow, saw asword fall jangling at his feet.
Instantly he seized the weapon, and prepared to receive all comers.Now, fencing had been one of the fads at Stonefell during the pastterm, and Jack, under the tutelage of Mons Dupre, the Frenchinstructor, had become an expert swordsman. With the weapon in hishand, he felt equal to facing any of the excited little yellow-facedMexican officers. As for them, they showed an equal disposition toannihilate the Americanos.
Hardly had Jack gauged the balance of his new-found weapon, before oneof his opponents, a lithe, sinewy chap, with fiercely twirledmoustache, came charging in, handling his sword like a duelist. Jackparried his furious onslaught easily. The fellow checked abruptly,when he found that, instead of a green boy, he had an expert swordsmanto deal with. Steadying himself, he began a systematic play for Jack'sheart. This was no play duel or mock fencing match with buttonedfoils. It was the real thing, and Jack knew it.
But the lad kept his head admirably. The Mexican, on the contrary, aslunge after lunge was parried, became furious.
"Carramba!" he hissed. "You dog of an Americano, I keel you!"
"If I let you," rejoined Jack, falling back a pace. The fierce thrustof his opponent fell upon thin air. The next instant Jack recovered,as if by magic, and his blade flashed and writhed thrice like awrithing serpent.
Suddenly the Mexican found his sword abruptly jerked clean out of hishand by Jack's weapon, and sent ringing over the heads of the othercombatants.
"Senor, I am at your mercy!" exclaimed the Mexican, dramaticallythrowing his arms open for the death-thrust, which it is likely hehimself would have given, had the circumstances been reversed.
"Bring me your sword," ordered Jack.
The other fetched it and handed it, hilt first, to his conqueror. Jacktook it, and, placing it across his knee, snapped it clean in two.
"Save the pieces,
" he said, handing them to the Mexican.
"Diablo!" cried the fellow, mad at the deliberate insult, "for that youdie!"
Holding a snapped section of the sword by the hilt, he drove in at Jackfull tilt, only to be met by a healthy American fistic uppercut,planted with such accuracy that the Mexican's wiry form was actuallylifted off its feet. He whirled round twice in the air, as ifperforming some sort of grotesque dance, and then fell in a heap.
"You won't bother us for a time," muttered Jack, turning to aid hiscompanions.
While he had been engaged with his officer, the others had had theirhands full.
Like a snarling pack of wolves, the Mexicans had withdrawn and suddenlymade a swoop on them all at once. Defending themselves as best theycould, Walt, Ralph and Bob Harding were, nevertheless, driven backagainst the bushes. So far as Walt and Ralph were concerned, it was areal fight, but with Bob Harding it was different. His face was asickly yellow, and in his eyes was a light that Jack had seenbefore--the expression of a coward at bay.
"Keep 'em off, fellows--I'm coming!" yelled Jack, as he charged intothe thick of the fray. "The reinforcement was totally unexpected bythe Mexicans, and they fell back for an instant--but 'for an instantonly.
"Bah, it is only another of those boys!" cried the one who seemed to betheir leader, a fat, pudgy little fellow, with a thick, drooping, blackmoustache.
"Death to the Gringoes!" yelled his followers, their deep-lying hatredof Americans now stripped of its veneer of politeness, and lyingexposed in all its ugliness.
The fat, pudgy little officer made a rush at Jack, who, instead ofmeeting it, ducked and caught the other by his wrist. The fellow'ssword went flying, and, at the same instant, Jack made a quick turn.As he did so, the pudgy man's rotund little body was seen to rise fromthe ground and describe an aerial semi-circle. He came crashing to theground with a thud, his thick neck almost driven into his shoulders bythe force of the concussion.
"Now for the others!" yelled Walt; but even as he uttered the cry,there came another shout from beyond the bushes in which the battle wasbeing waged:
"Ramon! Ramon the Black!"
Border Boys Across the Frontier Page 14