The Boy Ranchers Part 23

"You've got me!" admitted Nort. "It sure is queer. But I wonder if they're going to starve us; and what's become of our ponies?"

The last question was answered first, for d.i.c.k pointed to where, off to one side, Blaze and Blackie were contentedly grazing, being pegged out, as were a number of other horses.

And, an hour or so later, came the answer to the other question, for a man, who evidently acted as camp cook, came to the tent with a pot of coffee, some tin cups, and the head of a barrel used as a tray, on which was piled some food.

Had the viands been most uninviting, d.i.c.k and Nort would have eagerly welcomed them, for the boys were hungry. But, as a matter of fact, the food was clean, and well cooked. The two professors, whatever might be their game, evidently insisted on adequate culinary operations.

"Sail in!" exclaimed Nort, as he smelled the appetizing odor of the hot coffee, and what appeared to be some Mexican dish, cooked with plenty of beans, and more red peppers than the boys cared for.

But, as I have said, they were hungry, and this is the best sauce in the world. None of the condiments so freely used by the Mexicans was needed, and soon there was silence in the prisoners' tent, broken only by the clatter of knives and forks on the tin camp dishes.

Once or twice the Greaser guard looked at the boys in what d.i.c.k and Nort both agreed, later, was a hungry style. The pot of coffee was much more than the boys needed, though they ate up all the food. And it was while feeling in his pockets for a toothpick that Nort's fingers touched something which played a very prominent part in subsequent events.

Slowly Nort drew forth a small bottle, and held it up so d.i.c.k could see it, but so that it was concealed from the Greaser at the tent entrance.

And then d.i.c.k noted that Nort held up a four ounce flask of paregoric.

Nort had been suffering from toothache the past few days, though for some reason it had not bothered him since he and d.i.c.k had become "lost." Perhaps the excitement following that incident quieted the nerves. At any rate Nort carried the bottle of paregoric with him, for one of the cowboys had recommended that this household mixture of opium, rubbed on the gums, would give relief.

Nort found that it did, and since then he had carried the bottle with him, pending the time he expected to visit a dentist. He now held this phial of paregoric up so d.i.c.k could see, at the same time pointing first to the Greaser and then to the coffee pot.

"Now?" asked d.i.c.k, in reply to Nort's obvious statement that he intended to administer some of the soporific to their guard.

"To-night," was Nort's answer, and then he put the bottle back in his pocket.

d.i.c.k's eyes lighted up. He knew the effect of a large dose of paregoric, comparatively harmless as it is in small quant.i.ties, or as Nort used it.

Now a way seemed opened for the boys. If only they could command the other elements necessary for success.

Nort made sure of one, by pouring out a cup of coffee, liberally sweetening it with sugar from the barrel head tray, and setting the beverage to one side on the ground under his cot.

The camp cook came to carry away what the boys had left--which was not much--and if he missed one cup he said nothing about it. Perhaps this was because, just then, some of the cattle tried to break out of the corral, and there was a shout raised for help--to which the cook responded. But the Greaser guard did not leave his place. Evidently his orders were imperative.

"When are you going to try it?" whispered d.i.c.k to Nort, as the shadows began to lengthen, and night settled down on the camp.

"Not until after dark--say about ten," replied Nort in a low voice.

"It will take about two hours for him to fall asleep, and then we can get out, get aboard our ponies and trust to luck."

"If he only goes to sleep," sighed d.i.c.k.

"I'll give half the bottle full," whispered Nort.

The Greaser paid no attention to their talk, but sat immobile at the tent flaps. During the time the boys had been held prisoners no one had come to their canvas shelter save the cook, who brought them a plentiful supper, and also another barrel-head tray for the guard. The day had pa.s.sed with several blasts having been set off, though the effect of them, and the object, was concealed from the boy ranchers.

In accordance with their plan, Nort and d.i.c.k dawdled over their night meal, having consumed only part of it when the cook, at about eight o'clock, came to remove the dishes.

"Git 'em mornin'," he said, as he turned to go out, evidently meaning that he was going to turn in, and the boys could keep what they had until the next day. This exactly suited them, and just before they were ready to lie down, pretending to be sleepy, Nort produced the cup of coffee he had saved out. Quickly he emptied into it half of the bottle of paregoric, and, stirring it to mix the opium concoction well with the beverage, offered it to the Greaser.

If the latter had suspicions he made no show of them, but, with a grunt accepted the unexpected refreshment, and drained the coffee at one tilt of his head. Then he pa.s.sed the empty cup back to Nort, and proceeded to smoke another cigarette, an occupation that had been pretty much his whole task that day.

"Well, I'm going to turn in," said Nort in a loud voice, pretending to yawn.

"Same here," remarked d.i.c.k. Without undressing, they stretched out on the cots, not being afraid of soiling white sheets with their big boots, for there were no sheets to soil. Blankets alone formed the coverings, and these the boys drew over them.

There was no lantern in the tent, but the moon sent a stream of light in a little later, and by its gleam, in less than an hour after the dose had been administered, Nort and d.i.c.k saw the Greaser's head bent forward, while he had slumped down in a heap at the foot of the front tent pole.

Nort coughed loudly, two or three times, but the guard did not stir.

"Dead to the world!" whispered d.i.c.k gleefully. "We could walk all over him." He arose from the cot slowly, to silence as much as possible the rattle and squeak, and started for the front of the tent.

"The back way!" whispered Nort. "We'll cut the canvas! If we go out in front some one may see us. The back way!"

d.i.c.k comprehended, and turned around, picking up his range hat, an example followed by Nort. The latter had opened his pocket knife, which contained a large, keen blade, and, a moment later, a right-angled cut was made in the back wall of the canvas house.

Before emerging, Nort looked carefully through the opening he had made.

The moon gave good light, but, fortunately, the tent was in the shadow of some trees and the way of escape seemed clear.

"Come on!" whispered Nort to his brother. They paused a moment, listening to the heavy breathing of the opium-stupefied Greaser and then stepped out of the opening.

An instant later they stood beneath the starry canopy of the sky, having accomplished the first part of their escape from the camp of mystery.

CHAPTER XXII

BACK TO THE RANCH

Perhaps, after all, it was due to the peculiar natures of the two professors that Nort and d.i.c.k were enabled to make their escape as easily as the lads did. Primarily Professor Wright and Professor Blair were scientists, whatever else our heroes accused them of in their own minds. And though the men surrounding the mysterious prospectors might be scoundrels, in a sense, they did not have orders to be extra vigilant after d.i.c.k and Nort had been placed in the tent; so no general guard was kept over the camp.

Thus it was, that as soon as the lads stepped out of the cut tent, they found no one to oppose their progress. Too much dependence had been placed on the Greaser guard. Who would have supposed that Nort carried a bottle of paregoric?

Or, granting that it was known he had it, would you have imagined that he would use it as he did? The whole affair was so ridiculously simple that perhaps this offered a reason for its success.

For it did succeed.

Stepping softly over the rough ground back of the tent, the boys made their way some little distance from it before they hardly dared breathe freely. Then as they were aware of the silence of the night, wrapping everything in its somber robe, slashed here and there with insertions of gleaming moonbeams, their hearts beat higher with hope.

They looked toward the other tents where, doubtless, the professors and their helpers were sleeping. Then Nort and d.i.c.k caught the snorting of the cattle in the improvised corral--Diamond X cattle unlawfully taken.

"Wish we could let 'em out--stampede 'em," whispered Nort.

"Don't think of it!" cautioned d.i.c.k to his more impulsive brother. "If we can get our horses away without raising a racket we'll be mighty lucky."

The boys had, earlier in the evening, noted where Blaze and Blackie were tethered, and now they paused long enough to get their bearings, and then made off in the direction of their ponies. They dared not stop to look for their saddles or bridles. If they got away at all they must ride bareback, and with only the loop of a lariat around the necks of their steeds.

Fortunately Blackie and Blaze were gentle ponies--not too gentle--but, in comparison with a bucking bronco, they were as carriage horses to a racer. The boys knew they could manage their mounts once they were on their backs.

Step by step, moving cautiously, hardly daring to breathe, d.i.c.k and Nort made their way to the ponies.