The Broncho Rider Boys with the Texas Rangers Part 4

"Looks as though it might be a herd of cattle." said Donald, after a moment's inspection. "Although," he added, after further observation, "it would be a mighty small one."

"They certainly make a lot of dust," was Adrian's comment, followed in a moment with: "Look! Look! It's a race! It's a race!"

A race it certainly was, in which something less than half a dozen hors.e.m.e.n were engaged, and the boys drew rein to watch it.

At the first glance it did not appear to be very exciting, as one of the riders was so far in advance that there seemed very little chance for any of the others. But, as the boys watched the flying hors.e.m.e.n, it slowly dawned upon Donald that there was something wrong.

"By George!" he suddenly exclaimed, "I don't believe it's a race at all.

It looks to me as though there were three trying to catch one, and I don't think it's for any good purpose."

"I believe you're right, Don; and, look," exclaimed Adrian, "they're headed this way!"

That the boys were right was fully evidenced as the flying hors.e.m.e.n approached. The pursuers seemed to be men, while the fugitive was a lad of about the same age as our travelers.

All at once the boy espied the Broncho Rider Boys, and, digging his spurs into his horse, turned abruptly and rode directly toward them.

"_Socorre mi! Socorre mi!_" he called, as he came within hailing distance.

"What does he say?" asked Billie.

"He's crying for help," replied Donald. "What had we better do?"

"Help him, of course," replied Billie.

"And get ourselves into a lot of trouble for our pains," declared Donald.

"Who cares! Three to one is more than I can stand," and Billie yanked his Marlin from its sheath at his saddle girth.

Seeing that Billie intended to interfere, even if he had to go it alone, Don and Adrian followed his example, and, spurring their horses forward, interposed between the boy and his pursuers.

"What's all the trouble?" asked Donald in Spanish, as soon as the pursuing hors.e.m.e.n had come to a halt.

"He is running away from home," replied one who seemed to be the leader, "and his uncle sent us to bring him back."

"It isn't so," declared the lad, who had stopped his flight and had come up behind the boys. "Do not believe him, _senores_!"

Adrian turned at the sound of the lad's voice. "Which are we to believe?" he asked.

"Believe me," exclaimed the lad imploringly. "If you let them take me, I do not know what they will do with me."

"Why are they chasing you?" asked Don.

"I don't know, unless it is because they do not like my father."

"Who is your father?"

"General Sanchez, of President Madero's staff."

"Who are these?" and Don pointed to the waiting hors.e.m.e.n.

"I don't know who that man is," replied the lad, pointing to the leader, "but the others are peons on my uncle's _hacienda_."

"Is this true?" asked Don, turning to the pursuers, while Billie and Adrian tenderly fondled their rifles.

"Partly," replied the leader. "But you heard him say he did not know who I am. Well, I am one of his uncle's closest friends. I learned this morning that Pedro," and he pointed at the boy, "was getting into bad company, and so came out to look for him. I found him in bad company and told him he must come home with me. He refused and rode away. I then started after him. If I were not his uncle's friend, do you think I would have his uncle's peons with me?"

"It hardly seems so," replied Donald; "but, if you are such a good friend of his uncle, it's a wonder he does not know you. How about that, Pedro," and he again turned to the boy.

"It's all a lie," was the emphatic reply. "I was out watching the men at work at the foot of the mountains this morning, when this man rode up.

He told me to come with him. Never having seen him, I refused, whereupon he threatened to flog me. I jumped on my horse and rode away. A few minutes later he came after me, making all sorts of threats. Then he summoned the peons and chased me. They seem to do everything he tells them, but I do not know why."

"It sure is a queer mix-up," said Donald to his companions, in English, "and I don't know what to do."

"I'll tell you what," exclaimed Billie, after the matter had been fully explained to him, "let's all ride back to his uncle's, wherever that is, and see what he says."

"Why, sure," said Donald. "Billie, you'll make a judge some day. We'll go at once."

When the proposed plan was explained to the Mexicans, both sides to the controversy quickly acquiesced, and, turning their horses about, the combined parties started toward the mountains, Pedro leading the way.

The road ran along the bank of the Concho for a couple of miles, and then turned abruptly toward the foothills. It was a beautiful valley, and the Broncho Rider Boys were much interested in the scenery. They pa.s.sed several small groups of adobe houses, which Pedro explained were on his uncle's estate, which seemed very large.

"There is the house," Pedro at length explained, pointing to a fine appearing place on the top of a small hill. "It's only a couple of miles farther."

So interested had the boys become in what Pedro was telling them that they had paid very little attention to the rest of the company, until, as they rounded a turn in the now rocky road, Adrian discovered that the man who had made all the trouble had disappeared. Adrian quickly turned and rode back a few rods to where he could get an un.o.bstructed view of the road behind, and there was Mr. Mexican riding away as fast as his horse could carry him.

"What shall we do?" queried Adrian, as soon as he had called the others back.

"Nothing, I should say," was Donald's advice. "It looks like the question of who was right and who wrong had settled itself. I say good riddance. What do you say, Pedro?"

"I say let him go. I don't want him; but I should like to know who he is." Then to the peons: "Do you know who he is?"

The peons looked stupidly at each other, but made no reply.

"Why don't you answer?" asked Donald sharply. "Who is that man?"

"_Quien sabe!_" was the exasperating answer, as the men shrugged their shoulders in a manner which reminded Billie so much of a vaudeville act that he burst into a hearty laugh.

"_Quien sabe!_" he repeated. "Well, I know enough Spanish to understand that they don't know. But why don't they know?"

"It's too deep for me," replied Adrian. "The whole affair is too mysterious for anyone but a Sherlock Holmes to ferret out; but there is certainly no need of our going any farther in this direction, and I move that we start back."

"You won't have any trouble in getting home now, will you?" he asked, turning to Pedro.

"Oh, no; and are you going back to the Rio Brava?"

"To the what?" asked Donald.

"The Rio Brava."