The Border Boys Across the Frontier Part 9

CHAPTER VIII.

THE DARK FACE OF DANGER.

"Are we in actual danger?"

It was Ralph who put the question. The Eastern lad looked rather white under his tan. Walt, however, seemed as imperturbable as ever, and gazed out at the approaching hors.e.m.e.n with no more sign of emotion than a tightening of the lips.

Coyote Pete's reply was a curious one. He handed the boy the gla.s.ses, and said curtly:

"Take a squint fer yourself."

Ralph gazed long and earnestly. Pete talked the while in low undertone.

"Do you recognize him--that fellow on the big black horse? I'd know that horse ten miles away, even if I didn't know the man. He's----"

"Black Ramon de Barros!" burst from the Eastern lad's astounded lips, while the others gave a sharp gasp of surprise.

"That's the rooster. Here, Jack; take a look."

The boy, as you may suppose, lost no time in applying the gla.s.ses to his own eyes. Viewed through the magnifying medium, a startling moving-picture swung into focus.

Surrounding a big, covered wagon, of the prairie-schooner type, were from ten to a dozen wild-looking Mexicans, their straggling elf-locks crowned by high-peaked sombreros, and their serapes streaming out wildly about them, whipped into loose folds by the pace at which they rode. As Coyote Pete had said, there was little difficulty for any one who had seen him once, in recognizing Black Ramon de Barros. His magnificent black horse--the same on which he had escaped from the old mission--made him a marked man among a thousand. The wagon was drawn by six mules, and driven by a short, stocky, little Mexican. The hors.e.m.e.n seemed to act as escort for it. Evidently they had no fear of being observed by hostile eyes, for, as they advanced, they waved their rifles about their heads and yelled exultingly.

Fortunately for the party on the summit of the mesa, their stock was tethered on the opposite side of the formation to that on which the cavalcade was approaching. Thus, Black Ramon and his men could not see that the mesa was occupied. Jack caught himself wondering, though, how long it would be before, and what would happen when, they did.

"Have you got any plan in your head?" he asked, turning to Pete, as he laid the gla.s.ses down. But for once, to his dismay, the old plainsman seemed fairly stumped. The danger had come upon them so suddenly, so utterly unexpectedly, that it had caught them absolutely unprepared.

They had not even a rifle with them on the mesa summit, and it was now too late to risk exposing themselves by descending for weapons. There was nothing to do, it seemed, but powerlessly to await what destiny would bring forth.

"You boys get back to the altar. You can act as company fer the profusser, and it will be a snug hiding-place in case of trouble,"

whispered Pete. "I wish to goodness we'd brought the stock up inside the mesa, and then those fellows might never have discovered we were here. I don't see how they can help it, as things are, though."

"They'll be bound to see our footmarks in the a.s.sembly hall," said Jack.

"Not bound to, lad," rejoined Pete. "You see, they may be only going to make this a watering-place fer their stock, and then press right on."

"Press right on across that rocky range yonder?"

"Hum," resumed Pete, "that's so. They couldn't very well get that wagin across that, could they?"

"Whatever do you suppose they've got a wagon for, at all?" asked Jack.

"I've got my own ideas, lad, and I'll find out afore long if I'm right.

Now, you and the other boys get back in that altar. If it gets too hot here, I'll jump in and join you. If the worst comes to the worst, we ought to be able to lay hid in there fer a while."

"In the meantime what are you going to do?"

"Keep my eyes and ears open. There's something mighty strange about this whole thing."

The boys knew that obedience to Pete's commands was about the best thing they could do at the moment, so they hastened to conceal themselves within the altar, which afforded a comfortable hiding-place, even if it was a trifle hot. The poor professor was in great pain from his ankle, but Jack, after as able an examination as he could give the injured member, was unable to find that it was anything more than a severe sprain.

It did not take the professor long to become acquainted with what had happened within the last fifteen minutes, and, in his anxiety over the outcome of their situation, his pain was almost forgotten.

"If we only had the rifles," he breathed in such a savage voice that had the circ.u.mstances been different the boys could have smiled at the odd contrast between his mild, spectacled countenance and his bloodthirsty words.

It seemed hours, although in reality not more than half an hour elapsed, before Coyote Pete returned. His reappearance was not an orderly one. Instead, he landed in the interior of the altar in one bound. His face was streaming with sweat, and he looked anxious and worried.

"What news?" asked Jack.

"The worst," was the rejoinder.

"Have they found our camp?"

"Not yet, but that's only a question of a few minutes now. At present they are unhitching and cooking a meal. Luckily the shade at this time of day lies to the north-west of the mesa, so that they may not explore the other side for some time."

"Let us hope not. But what have you found out about them? What are they doing here?"

"Just what I suspicioned. They are a part of a gang of gun-runners."

"Gun-runners?"

"Yes. From listening to their conversation, I have found out that this insurrection's a heap worse than we ever supposed. Half of Chihuahua is up in arms ag'in the government, and they are plotting to blow up railroad bridges, cut wires, and paralyze the country generally. Then they are goin' ter raid all the American mines and get the gold."

"Why, dad's mine's in Chihuahua, close to the border," gasped Jack.

"I know it. I heard that greaser ragam.u.f.fin, Black Ramon, mention his name. Your dad's the first one they're goin' after----"

"The scoundrels."

"They owe him a grudge, you know, and now's their chance to get even."

"Do they know that dad is in Mexico now?"

"I didn't hear that. All I found out was what I told you, and that, as I said, they are running guns across the border. That wagon's loaded up with machine-guns in heavy cases. They are labeled as agricultural machinery, and were taken off the train by white accomplices seventy miles or more from here. They chose this part of the border, I guess, as even Uncle Sam would never suspect any one of trying ter get guns over them hills yonder."

"Well, they can't take a wagon over those rocky, desolate places. How are they going to get them across, do you suppose?" asked the professor, his pain almost forgotten in the tense interest of the moment.

"That's just the funny part uv it," said Pete; "they never mentioned the mountains. You don't suppose there's any other way they could get 'em over the border, do you?"

"Maybe they have an airs.h.i.+p," suggested Walt Phelps.

"Maybe," said Pete quite gravely, "I wouldn't put nothin' past a greaser."

"Hus.h.!.+" exclaimed Ralph suddenly, "somebody's coming."

With beating hearts they sank into absolute silence. The three boys crouched at one end of the hollow altar, the professor and Coyote Pete bundled together into as small a s.p.a.ce as possible at the other.