The Boy Ranchers Among the Indians Read online

  "Had enough, Yaqui?" asked the lieutenant, as the Indian came down from his perch, and advanced to a point midway between the hidden Mexicans and the equally concealed troopers. In the rear was another band of soldiers, so, if it had been necessary, the Indians could have been withered by a cross fire.

  "We stop," grunted the Yaqui.

  It was the giving up.

  Then followed a talk between the officer and the representative of the Indians. This was not Paz, who probably was too cowardly to trust himself in the open under the guns of his rightful enemies.

  "Unconditional surrender, lay down every gun you have, march out and be made prisoners!" was the ultimatum of Lieutenant Snow.

  It was the only terms that could be offered the treacherous band that had broken over the border from Mexico.

  "And tell 'em," shouted Snake, who, with his friends had understood the import of what was said, "tell the beggar if any harm has come to Rosemary or Floyd, we'll kill every one of the Greasers!"

  Lieutenant Snow waved his hand for silence. He listened to something the bearer of the flag of truce had to say, and then the officer announced:

  "The captives aren't here!"

  "Aren't here!" cried Bud, Nort and Dick together.

  "Don't let nim fool you!" shouted Yellin' Kid.

  "Order them to march out, unarmed and then we'll search their camp," called Captain Marshall.

  Seeing that it would be useless to prolong matters, and knowing his entire band would be wiped out if he continued the fight, now that his rear was attacked, Paz growled out the necessary orders to his followers, and they came out from amid the rocks—that is those who could walk.

  They were a sorry-looking lot. Always of a nondescript type, dirty, ragged and greasy, the Yaquis were even worse now, for they had been on the trail for some time, and had taken part in at least two fights. They had had no time to recuperate since making the raid in La Nogalique.

  As they filed out, miserably enough, they were passed into a sort of hollow square, formed by the troopers, and there each Indian was searched for a hidden knife or revolver. One or two were found and confiscated amid the snarls of rage on the part of the owners, who, doubtless, meditated treachery.

  Paz and his followers having been secured, a guard placed over them, and the wounded of the troopers being cared for as well as possible, search was made of the place where the Yaquis had made their stand. Several dead Indians were found, and some so badly wounded that death was only a question of a short time. These were made as comfortable as possible, for though they were entitled to little consideration while the fight was on, matters were different after the surrender.

  "But where can Rosemary and Floyd be?" was the question asked over and over again by the boy ranchers and their friends, when it was seen that the captives were not in the Yaquis camp. At first it was supposed they had been sent to the rear with the Indians who were guarding the ponies. But there was no trace of the youth and his sister who had been carried away.

  Then the more sinister thought came.

  "Could they have been made away with?"

  No one asked this in so many words, but it was in the minds of all, and a careful search was made to disclose if the ground had been recently dug up. Nothing of the sort was found, however, and then the boy ranchers and their friends breathed more easily.

  But though the main body of Yaquis had been captured the prisoners were not found. And one of the objects of the rescue party—the main object in fact—was to locate Rosemary and Floyd.

  "We've got to get it out of Paz what has happened to them, if we—if we have to torture him!" declared Snake. "Can't you make him talk, Captain?"

  "Well, of course we dare not, for the sake of the good name of Uncle Sam's men, resort to torture. But we can try some modern police methods—putting him through the third degree, so to speak."

  "That's it!" cried Bud. "Give Paz the third degree!"

  Once the prisoners were secured, the wounded attended to and the dead buried, the whole attention of the rescue party was given to locating Rosemary and Floyd. That Paz knew the secret of their disappearance could not be doubted—at least our friends did not doubt.

  "Though of course," said Captain Marshall, when preparations were going on for putting Paz through the third degree series of questions, "of course there may have been several bands involved in this raid, and some other body of Yaquis may have taken away the young man and his sister."

  "It was Paz, I'm sure of it!" declared Bud.

  "He looks guilty!"

  Certainly the Yaquis leader looked ugly and mean enough to have perpetrated this deed. But he maintained a scowling silence as he sat on the ground before his captors.

  "Now, Paz," began Lieutenant Snow, who acted as interpreter, "you may as well tell the truth first as last, for we're going to get it out of you, if we have to resort to—well, you know what I mean. Sabe?"

  "No sabe!" grunted the Indian.

  Then the work began. It was not a pleasant task, and it was only excusable on the plea of dire necessity. The Yaquis were entitled to no mercy.

  But through ft all Paz maintained a grim silence. When he did speak it was to deny that he or his followers had even seen Rosemary and Floyd, much less had they kidnapped them for a ransom.

  It remained for Buck Tooth to expose the trick. The wily Indian, perhaps knowing the habits of the race he had forsaken, had been prowling about among the sullen prisoners. He openly laughed at them for the plight in which he found them, taunting them as cowards of the first water.

  Then, having wrought them up to the desired pitch of anger, Buck Tooth laughed and played a trump card, so to speak. In his own way he told a group of the captives that not only had they been caught, to be sent back to Mexico there to suffer long imprisonment, but the object for which they had risked so much had been snatched from them.

  "We have the boy and girl!" boasted Buck Tooth.

  This was vehemently denied and then, in a burst of anger, as Buck Tooth insisted this was so, the Yaqui blurted out the truth that Paz was endeavoring to conceal. Rosemary and Floyd had been taken away from the main body by a squad under the leadership of the Indian whom Rosemary had dubbed "Mike."

  "Ugh!" grunted Buck Tooth. He had found out what he wanted to know.

  The trick was discovered.

  CHAPTER XXII

  ANXIOUS HOURS

  Paz grunted, with characteristic Indian indifference when the work of the third degree ceased, as Buck Tooth, accompanied by the boy ranchers, waddled up and made known what he had found out.

  "So that's what the beggar did!" exclaimed Captain Marshall, when he understood. "He split his forces, and sent the young man and girl farther on up into the mountains. Well, it means another chase!"

  "And one not so easy to make," added Snake.

  "Why?" asked Bud.

  "Well, the trail will be worse, for one thing, and we won't have as many men to help. Got to send a guard back with these," and he waved his hand to indicate the Yaquis who had been made prisoners.

  "I'll spare as many of my men as possible," said the captain, "and as

  soon as I get these imps where they'll be safe for the next few years,

  I'll have the escort return. They'll want to see this thing through.

  I'm coming with you."

  "Oh, that's good!" exclaimed Nort. It was not that he did not depend on the cowboys from Diamond X, but there was something about the troopers that inspired confidence. The cowboys, too, were glad that they would have some regulars with them.

  "And now let's get this story in proper shape," suggested the captain. "Lieutenant Snow, you'll get ready to take as many men as you'll need and herd the rascals back over the border, or at least to La Nogalique. It may be that the United States Marshal there will want to deal with them himself. In case he does that relieves you all the sooner. Get in touch with the fort when you have delivered your prisoners, and there may be orders for you."

&
nbsp; "Yes, sir," answered the wounded lieutenant, saluting. He had no thought of quitting though he was painfully hurt.

  Then Buck Tooth told what his taunts had forced from the captive Yaquis, and the whole trick was plain to the experienced cowboys and the troopers. Paz, fearing the result of keeping the captives with him, had sent them away when he learned that his pursuers were near.

  How he learned that fact was one of the mysteries. How the news traveled, in that wild country, where civilized folk were often at pains to get into communication with each other, will probably never be known. But in some manner Paz had become aware of the closing in on him of the soldiers and the cowboys and he had tried to forestall their vengeance. But he did not reckon on the wiliness of Buck Tooth, whose taunts had caused the truth to be blurted out.

  So, while Paz and his renegades were being sent back to pay the penalties for their uprising, Captain Marshall, with some of his picked men, and the band from Diamond X got ready to move forward again. One or two of the cowboys, who had been rather badly hit by bullets, were induced to go back for treatment. An effort made to have Bud do the same was met by a flat refusal.

  "I've got one good hand!" the lad declared, holding up his left, "and I can shoot an automatic with that after somebody loads it for me."

  "We'll load!" offered Nort and Dick.

  So the boy ranchers, like the Three Guardsmen "all for one and one for all," stuck together.

  "There's going to be hard work—and danger ahead of us," Snake had said, and Captain Marshall bore him out in this.

  "That's what we came for," declared Nort.

  "Surest thing you know!" assented his brother, and Bud nodded his assent.

  So they moved forward again.

  This time they were working toward a more certain object than when they were out scouting around to pick up the trail of the Yaquis.

  Now they must make their way back to where the party, with Rosemary and

  Floyd as prisoners, had separated from the main body.

  This was comparatively simple as regards tracing the way Paz and his followers had descended the mountain into the valley of the plain where the last fight and surrender had taken place. But when the trail of Mike and his men was located—then would come the real test.

  The way grew more rough as they proceeded back along the route taken by the fleeing main body of Yaquis. It was an ascending trail, over a path that was possible only to the tough western ponies.

  Fortunately they had an ample supply of provisions and the water supply was adequate, which was a vital necessity. The only hardship in the way of grub was on the horses, the herbage being scanty at times, so that as much speed as was desired could not be made, detours being necessary in order to come upon fodder for the steeds.

  This caused them to spend more time on the route than they desired and each hour of delay made the boy ranchers more and more apprehensive for the safety of their captured cousins. However it could not be helped. Certain precautions must be observed if the band of rescuers was to arrive efficient enough to cope with the Yaquis. Though not a quarter of the original body was now in charge of Rosemary and Floyd, they were picked fighters, so Buck Tooth had learned. And they probably would make a stand in some natural fastness which vantage point would be hard to attack and turn.

  Through two long, hot weary days the march of the rescuers was kept up, and they were all glad when night came that they might camp and be at rest.

  "But we've struck the branching trail," Bud said to his cousins. "All we have to do now is to keep on until we corner the beggars, and get Rosemary and Floyd away from them."

  Bud had sized up the situation correctly, though it remains to be stated that it was easier said than done. By carefully noting the "sign" along the way, the cowboys and soldiers had reached the place where the selected band had ridden away with their captives. And this was the trail now being followed.

  There was more than hard work—hard work followed hard work—and there was danger. It had been hard from the very start—from the time the boy ranchers had left after the first wild alarm over the kidnapping of Rosemary and Floyd. They had been keyed up to high tension all the while, and this, in itself, if you have ever experienced it, is wearing. There had been absolutely no time for light enjoyment—none of the humor of the cowboys had a chance to manifest itself.

  Aside from an occasional burst into song the way had been grim and weary. There was nothing to lighten it, for over all hung the apprehension that something dreadful would befall Rosemary and her brother.

  And that dread was still present.

  Even at the very end of the trail it might be found that all their efforts had been in vain, and that the Yaquis, driven into a panic of fear, had ended the lives of their captives.

  So there was this nerve-racking pall of gloom hanging over all, and to this was added the hard physical work of keeping to a difficult trail, with danger besetting on every hand.

  That there was danger, not the most optimistic of them would have denied. There was danger in urging one's horse up a narrow path overhanging some gorge.

  There was danger that some lurking Yaqui, unable to keep up with the main body of Mike's men, might send a bullet into the back of one of the rescuers. Or Mike could have posted a party in ambush at any one of a dozen places along the trail, there to surprise and kill off a number of the vengeful whites following him.

  All this made it exceedingly hard for the boy ranchers and their friends, but they were never daunted. On they urged their weary ponies, and the trail was as hard on horseflesh as it was on man and youth.

  Still no one complained. Even Bud bore without remark the pain of his wounded hand, and it was a most painful injury. However Captain Marshall had no small skill with what primitive remedies they had with them, and he saved Bud from the necessity of a surgical operation later, as the wound was kept clean, so that it healed from within.

  Though once, when it had grown shut, with the possible danger of pus forming within, and had to be opened, poor Bud saw everything getting black before his eyes. And it was only by gritting his teeth, and remembering how, it was said, Indians bit bullets in twain in the excess of their agony before uttering a groan, that the lad prevented himself from fainting under the captain's ministrations.

  So night settled down on the second day of their rush forward on the trail of Mike and those he held captive.

  "You get to bed and take it easy," Nort said to Bud, when the latter talked of standing guard, after camp had been made.

  "That's right," agreed Dick. "There's enough of us without you."

  "But I don't want to be a quitter!" Bud said. "And we're so close to Mike and his gang now—or we ought to be—that there may be an attack any hour."

  "The Yaquis won't attack at night," declared Rolling Stone. "They're too lazy!"

  This, indeed, is characteristic of many Indian tribes, though perhaps the real reason may be based on superstition instead of objection to exertion.

  However, Bud allowed himself to be pursuaded to take his ease rolled up in his blankets. There were no tents, and, in fact, none were really needed, for though the nights were cooler than the days, a blanket and a fire made every man comfortable.

  So night settled down, the stars came out, the cooling wind blew the smoke of the camp fire here and there and the posted sentries walked their beats, waiting for what might happen.

  That they were near to the hiding place of Mike, and, it was hoped, of the captives too, could not be doubted. The trail had become more fresh with every mile traversed.

  "He's gone into some cave to hold off as long as possible," was the opinion of Captain Marshall.

  Nort and Dick had adjoining posts. They had been selected for the first four hours of duty, from 8 to 12 o'clock, and it was near that last hour when Nort, coming back from having reached the end of his beat, called softly to his brother.

  "Did you hear anything?" asked Nort.

  "What do you mean?
" asked Dick in turn.

  "Well, like some one walking. Listen!"

  CHAPTER XXIII

  THE LAST STAND

  The boy ranchers—only two of them now, for Bud was taking a much-needed rest, stood silent in the darkness, on one edge of the camp. They listened "with all their ears," for they were, if not exactly in the enemy's territory, at least within striking distance of the Yaquis, and every precaution must be taken.

  So when Nort whispered to Dick that a suspicious noise had been heard,

  Dick was only too ready to believe it.

  "Where did you hear it?" Dick asked in a cautious voice when, after several seconds of intent listening, neither had caught a sound.

  "Off there," replied Nort rather vaguely, pointing to the darkness ahead of them—a darkness where the rays of several camp fires did not penetrate, and which the starlight did not seem to pierce.

  "I don't hear anything," went on Dick. "Maybe it was only the wind.

  We don't want to give an alarm and—"

  "Hark!" interrupted his brother in a low but tense voice.

  Clearly then, to the ears of both, came the unmistakable sound of someone or something approaching. There was the crunching of gravel, and the noise of some hard substance moving on a rock.

  "It's the Yaquis!" whispered Nort, as he brought his rifle to bear on the blackness in front of him. "They're creeping up to make an attack!"

  Dick also got his gun in readiness for instant action, and the boys were just about to fire when a noise, best described as "unearthly," smote their ears. It was a long drawn out cry, weird and blood-curdling. That it was the warwhoop of the Yaquis both boys were beginning to believe, in spite of knowing that these Mexicans seldom if ever used such romantic if terrible means of terrifying their enemies.