Frank at Don Carlos' Rancho

by Harry Castlemon

  CHAPTER XII.

  FRANK'S ADVENTURES.

  Frank had had some exciting adventures since we last saw him, and hadwitnessed scenes that it was not probable he would soon forget. Weleft him standing face to face with one of his pursuers, whose gun wasat his shoulder, his finger on the trigger, and the muzzle of theweapon pointing straight at Frank's breast. The chances of escape fromsuch a situation were small indeed. True, Frank's revolver was safe inhis pocket, and he was too sure a shot to miss so large a mark as theMexican at that distance; but he knew, from the next words his enemyspoke, that any attempt on his part to draw the weapon, would be thesignal for his death.

  "Put your hands above your head," commanded the Ranchero, sternly."Now, if you move an eyelid, I will send a ball through you."

  The very appearance of the man was enough to convince Frank that hewould not hesitate to carry his threat into execution, should occasionrequire it; but, large and strong as he was, and savage as he looked,he was afraid of his captive, and had no intention of approachingnearer to him until he had put it out of his power to do any mischief.Keeping his eyes fastened upon Frank, and holding his gun in positionwith one hand, he uncoiled with the other a lasso which hung over hisshoulder. The prisoner began to tremble in every limb. He understoodthe meaning of this movement, and told himself that there would be adesperate fight in those bushes before the Mexican should use thatlariat on him. He did not intend to allow himself to be strangled halfto death if he could prevent it. Having already had some experience inthat line, he did not care to have it repeated.

  "Look here!" said he, when the Ranchero, after coiling a portion ofthe lasso in his hand, began swinging it around his head; "don'tattempt that."

  "Stand where you are!" exclaimed the Mexican.

  "I haven't moved an inch, and I have no desire to do so, as long asyou keep that gun pointed at me. But you sha'n't put that lasso aroundmy neck; you may depend upon that."

  The Ranchero was evidently astonished. Here was a fellow, whoacknowledged himself a prisoner, and yet had the audacity to tell hiscaptor what he should do, and what he should not do. The tones ofFrank's voice, his attitude, and the expression of his countenance,all bore evidence to the fact that he was quite in earnest; and theMexican seemed to be in no hurry to come to close quarters with him.The hand in which he held the lasso fell to his side, and he stoodlooking at his captive, measuring him with his eye, and trying todecide upon some course of action.

  Frank was no stranger to the Ranchero. The latter had often seen him,and he had heard of him, too. He knew the particulars of some of hisexploits, and he had a wholesome respect for him. A boy who hadcourage enough to keep a secret with death staring him in the face,and who, after being nearly strangled, could fight with thedesperation which Frank had exhibited in his encounter with PierreCostello, was not one to be approached with impunity. The Mexican hadnever taken the trouble to look closely at him before, and now he wasastonished to discover what a powerful young fellow he was. Althoughhe was not quite seventeen years old, he stood five feet nine inchesin his stockings; and the violent sports and exercises to which he hadbeen accustomed from his earliest boyhood, had developed his musclesuntil they were as large as those of a blacksmith. He looked like ayoung Hercules as he stood there, drawn up to his full height, hisarms extended above his head, his hands clenched, and his fingersmoving nervously, as though they were aching to take the Ranchero bythe throat.

  "Hadn't you better make up your mind what you are going to do aboutit?" asked Frank, who was beginning to get impatient. "You might aswell put up that lasso, for you shall never catch me with it."

  "Stand where you are!" repeated the Mexican.

  These words were addressed, not to the prisoner, but to the empty air.The spot on which Frank had been standing was vacant, and he haddisappeared from the view of his captor as completely as though he hadnever been in the woods at all. While the Ranchero was looking atFrank, the latter was narrowly watching the Ranchero. He kept his eyesfastened upon the gun, and finally he saw the muzzle turned a littleaside, so that it no longer pointed at his breast. That was enough forFrank, who now repeated the trick he had tried with so much successupon Don Carlos. Gathering all his strength for the effort, he madetwo or three tremendous bounds, and vanished.

  Like an inexperienced young sportsman, who, seeing a flock of quailssuddenly arise from the bushes at his very feet, stands gazing afterthem with open mouth, too astonished to think of the gun he holds inhis hand, so stood the Ranchero. There was something almost magicalin the escape of his prisoner. It was so sudden and unexpected! Therehe was, holding a loaded gun in one hand, a lasso in the other, andstanding almost within reach of his prize; and yet he had effectuallyeluded him.

  "Santa Maria!" yelled the Ranchero, arousing himself as if from asound sleep. "Stop, or I fire!"

  "Whoop!" yelled another voice. "Hooray fur the boy that fit that ar'robber! Put in your best licks, youngster, fur the timber's full ofthe varlets."

  How Frank's heart bounded at the tones of that familiar voice! Friendshad been near him all the while, and he had not been aware of it. Hecould not, however, waste much time in thinking about the trapper. Hehad imagined that his escape from the Ranchero had placed him beyondthe reach of danger for the present, but now he found that he wasrunning straight into it. There were other persons in the woods, ofwhose presence he had been ignorant, and now they began to showthemselves. The trapper's wild Indian yell was answered by an ordershouted in Spanish; and then was presented a scene that remindedFrank of some passages in one of his favorite books--Sir WalterScott's "Lady of the Lake." When the outlaw and King James wereconversing, and the latter expressed a desire to see the rebelchieftain and his band, Roderick gave one shrill whistle, and--

  "Instant, through heath and copse, arose Bonnets and spears and bended bows. On right, on left, above, below, Sprung up at once the lurking foe. From shingles gray their lances start; The bracken bush sends forth the dart; The rushes and the willow wand Are bristling into ax and brand; And every tuft of broom gives life To plaided warrior, armed for strife."

  In short, the Scottish braves sprung into view in a way that wasutterly bewildering, and so did the men who had been creeping upthrough the bushes while Frank was parleying with his captor. Thefugitive had never seen so many Mexicans together before, and it was amystery where they all came from. It seemed to him that every bush andtree within the range of his vision, was turning into a villainouslooking Ranchero. They arose on all sides, and with loud yells rushedforward intent upon capturing Frank alive and unharmed. Not a shot wasfired at him, but the trapper was a target for a dozen rifles andpistols; and some of the bullets, that were intended for him, whistledthrough the bushes uncomfortably near to Frank's head. If Archie hadbeen in his cousin's place just then, he would have smelt powder tohis heart's content.

  Frank's first impulse was to stop and surrender himself a prisoner;but a rapid glance around showed him that one portion of the woods wasstill left open to him. Toward this he dashed with the speed of afrightened deer--paying no heed to the loud commands to halt that wereshouted after him, but trembling in every limb when he heard thelassos of his pursuers whistling through the air--and in less timethan it takes to tell it, he had once more distanced the fleetest ofthe herdsmen. In ten minutes not one of them was to be seen or heard.The reports of the firearms had ceased, the shouts had died away inthe distance, and the woods were as silent as midnight.

  Frank was now rapidly nearing the creek--the only barrier that stoodbetween him and his home. Once safe on the opposite shore, and hisescape was assured. The five miles that lay between the creek and hisuncle's rancho, were no obstacle to such a runner as he had provedhimself to be. He reached the bank at last, and, without stopping toreconnoiter the ground before him, dashed through the bushes at thetop of his speed, and plunged into the water. His movements were sorapid that the Rancheros, who were concealed in the bushes awaitinghis approach, di
d not have time to seize him as he passed; but theirlassos were longer than their arms, and before the fugitive had madehalf a dozen strokes, one of these dreaded weapons flew through theair, and the noose settled around his neck. He tried to avoid thedanger by diving under the water; but it was too late. The lariat wastightened up with a jerk, and he was pulled back to the shore, gaspingfor breath, and struggling desperately.

  "Here you are again, Fifty-Thousand-Dollars," exclaimed a familiarvoice; and the instant Frank touched the bank, a stalwart Mexican,whom he recognized as the one from whom he had escaped a short timebefore, threw himself upon him and held him fast; two more bound himhand and foot; while a fourth searched all his pockets, and tookpossession of his revolver. Of course he was easily overpowered, butit was only after a furious and determined resistance.

  The Rancheros were very jubilant over their success. They danced abouttheir captive like so many savages; and when one seized him by thecollar and jerked him to his feet, the others set up a loud shout oftriumph. Then they held a hurried consultation in their native tongue,and the prisoner understood enough of what was said to know that theywere talking about the money they expected to receive when theydelivered Frank into the hands of Don Carlos. They seemed to be afraidthat they might be called upon to divide the reward with some of theircompanions; and, in order to avoid that, they told one another thatthey would take their captive to the rancho by some round-about way.No sooner was this plan agreed upon, than the Mexicans proceeded tocarry it out. Two of them seized Frank by the arms and hurried himinto the woods, dragging him roughly over fallen logs, and throughthick bushes, which tore his clothing and scratched him severely.

  "Now, see here," he exclaimed, when he thought he could no longerendure their harsh treatment; "if you will untie my feet, so that Ican walk, you will save yourselves and me a great deal of trouble."

  The Mexicans were deaf to his words. They did not mind the trouble inthe least. Their prisoner was worth a fortune to them; and having seenhim make two remarkable escapes that night, they did not intend togive him an opportunity to make another.

  If they hoped to reach the rancho without meeting any of theircompanions, they were destined to be disappointed; for, when theyarrived at the edge of the prairie where they had left their horses,they were joined by three more of the Don's band, who, upondiscovering Frank again in confinement, set up a terrific yell.

  "No more herding cattle or stealing horses for me," cried one of thenew-comers. "I am off for Frisco this very night."

  "You can go now, for all we care," growled one of the men, who washolding Frank by the collar.

  "Yes, but I want my share of the reward first."

  "It's little of the reward you'll get. Must we do all the work, riskall the danger, and then share our hard earnings with you who havekept yourselves out of harm's way? Not if we know ourselves."

  This was the beginning of an angry altercation, which did not continuemore than a minute before the disputants came to blows. Frank'scaptors insisted that no one but themselves should touch a cent of themoney; and the new-comers declared that if they did not agree todivide, they should never take their prisoner to the rancho. As thedebate progressed, the Mexicans began to grow angry. Their voices rosehigher and higher; they flourished their arms in the air, and shooktheir clenched hands in one another's faces; and finally one of themdrew his knife and emphasized his words by making a savage thrust atthe man nearest him. That brought the discussion to a close at once;and an instant afterward Frank was standing there, the solitaryspectator of the most thrilling scene he had ever witnessed in hislife--a furious hand-to-hand conflict among the Rancheros.

  The rapidity with which this state of affairs had been brought aboutwas astonishing. One moment the Mexicans were all standing erect,engaged in an angry war of words; the next, they were rolling about onthe ground, struggling madly with each other, pistol balls were flyingabout, reeking knife-blades flashing in the air, and the woods wereechoing with cries of pain and shouts of anger. Frank stoodspeechless, almost breathless, and unable to move hand or foot. He wasin danger of being knocked down by some of the struggling men, and ofbeing struck by the bullets which whistled about so recklessly; but hecould not get out of the way. He never once thought of his own peril,for he was too horrified at what was going on before him to think ofany thing. He was the cause of all this trouble. The herdsmen weredestroying one another to secure possession of the reward that hadbeen offered for him.

  The fight, desperate as it was, did not long continue. It seemed toFrank that it had scarcely begun before it was over. His captors cameoff victorious, but there were not many of them left to rejoice overtheir success--only a single man, who, as he arose from the body ofhis late antagonist, first looked toward his prisoner, to satisfyhimself that he was safe, and then coolly ran his eye over theprostrate forms around him. Frank expected to see him manifest someregret at the fate of his companions, but he did nothing of the kind.He did not even take the trouble to see if any of them were stillalive. He wiped his knife on a bunch of leaves which he pulled from aneighboring bush, and then hurried toward the horses, which were tiedto the trees in the edge of the woods. Mounting his own horse, he rodeup beside his prisoner, and, seizing him by the collar, pulled him upin front of him, and laid him across the horn of his saddle, as ifFrank had been a bag of corn, and he was about to start off to millwith him. Then he spoke for the first time since the fight, and Frankknew why it was that he felt no regret at the death of his companions.

  "The reward is mine," said he, with a chuckle. "I have no one todivide with now."

  He dashed his spurs into the flanks of his horse, and set off at arapid gallop toward the rancho, which was in plain sight, and not morethan a quarter of a mile distant. Frank turned his eyes toward itsgloomy walls, and wondered what sort of a reception he would meet withwhen he arrived there. It was not likely that the Don would greet himas kindly as he had done before--that he would conduct him into thehouse with ceremony, and ask him to make himself comfortable untilsupper time. Perhaps, in his rage, the old Spaniard would dispatch himat once. Frank was prepared for the worst; but he would have submittedto his fate with much better grace, if his hands and feet had beenunbound for one moment, so that he could have made just one moreattempt at escape.

  "It's of no use for you to kick about so," said the Ranchero, as Frankbegan struggling with his bonds. "You're as safe now as though youwere locked up in one of Don Carlos' dungeons."

  The Mexican was a good deal surprised at the reply his prisoner made.Frank had turned his head, and was looking back toward the woods, asif he half expected to see help coming from that direction, and he haddiscovered a tall figure in buckskin standing in the bushes. A momentafterward a long rifle was leveled, and Frank thought that the muzzlewas pointed straight at his head. That occasioned him no uneasiness,however, for he knew that Dick Lewis's eagle eye was glancing alongthe weapon, and that its contents would do no harm to him.

  "Did you ever see that fine horse of mine--the one you fellows stolefrom me?" asked Frank. "Well, I will stake him against the worthlessanimal you are riding, that you don't take me to Don Carlos."

  "Eh!" exclaimed the Ranchero, facing quickly about in his saddle, andgazing back at the woods.

  That move was all that saved his life. Just then a sheet of flame shotout from the bushes, and the bullet came humming through the air; butinstead of finding a lodgment in the body of the Mexican, it wasburied in the brain of the horse, which dropped dead in his tracks,dashing the Ranchero and his prisoner violently to the ground.

  Frank, stunned by the fall, and blinded by the blood which flowedfreely from a wound on his forehead, could not have told what hadhappened. He lay motionless for a moment, and then, after a fewineffectual attempts, succeeded in raising himself to a sittingposture, and began to look around for his enemy. He saw him seated onthe ground at a little distance, holding both hands to his head, andgazing about him with a bewildered air, as if he had not quite made u
phis mind how he had come to be unhorsed so suddenly. But he was notlong in comprehending the matter. Glancing toward the trapper, who wasapproaching with long strides, and then toward his prisoner, hewhipped out the knife which had done him such good service in hisrecent battle.

  "Santa Maria!" he shouted.

  That was all he said then, but his actions supplied the place ofwords, and indicated the desperate resolve he had formed. He jumped tohis feet and rushed toward Frank, with his knife uplifted ready tostrike.

  "Whoop! Bars an' buffaler! Stop thar, you tarnal Greaser!" cried thetrapper. "If you touch that youngster with that we'pon, I'll raiseyour har fur you."

  The Mexican paid no heed to the warning. He came on as fiercely asever, and Frank, unable to lift a finger in his own defense, sat thereon the ground and watched those two frantic men who were racing towardhim--one intent on taking his life, the other on saving it. Whichwould reach him first? The Mexican was the nearer to him, but thefleet-footed trapper was getting over the ground at the rate of tenfeet to his one. If Dick's rifle had been loaded, Frank would have hadno fears as to the result; but the trusty old weapon was empty, andhis friend might approach within reach of him, and still be unable toprevent the Mexican from accomplishing his purpose.

  "There are fifty thousand dollars wrapped up in your hide," hissedthe Ranchero, "and if I don't get it nobody shall."

  A few hurried steps brought him to Frank's side, and, uttering a yellof triumph, he seized him by the throat, and threw him backward uponthe ground. Frank saw him shake the knife at the trapper, and when itwas raised above his breast, he closed his eyes that he might not seeit when it descended. But the knife never touched him. Something fellheavily upon him, and when he opened his eyes he saw the Mexican lyingmotionless by his side, and Dick Lewis bending over him.

  The trapper's tomahawk, thrown with unerring aim, had saved Frank'slife.