CHAPTER VII.
A STRANGE VALLEY.
Had he beheld the emergence of a supposedly dead man from his tomb, theboy could not have been much more startled. As it was the two caseswould have had much in common, for the figure that now advanced towardhim was that of a man he had given up for dead—namely, the Mexican whohad shared that wild voyage on the raft.
For an instant Jack instinctively threw himself into an attitudeof defense. But the next moment he saw that he had nothing to fearfrom the newcomer. In fact, a more woebegone figure than the Mexicanpresented it would be hard to imagine. There was a big gash over one ofhis eyes, his clothing was torn to ribbons and he limped painfully ashe advanced toward Jack.
“How did you come here?” asked Jack in Spanish.
“Ah, señor, surely by a miracle of the saints,” was the reply, as theman raised his eyes to heaven. “I recollect your blow and then nothingmore till I found myself cast up on the bank of yonder stream. Call itwhat you will, I believe that it was a true miracle of Providence thatmy life was saved.”
“We must both thank a higher power for our deliverance,” said Jackreverently. “I never thought that I should see you alive again.”
“But who are you?” demanded the Mexican. “How came you on our raftbefore it went adrift?”
Jack thought for a moment before replying, and then he decided that itcould do no possible harm, under the circumstances, to tell who he was.
“I am the son of an Arizona rancher,” he said. “My name is JackMerrill. With two companions I was accompanying the Texas Rangers on ascouting trip for the sake of the experience. While on guard duty I sawyour raft land and thought it my duty to try to find out what you weredoing on the American side of the river.”
To Jack’s surprise the other showed no trace of anger. Instead heappeared grief stricken.
“Alas, señor,” he said, “you may have been the cause of the death ofmy two companions, for if the Texas Rangers captured them they willassuredly shoot them.”
“I’m sure they would do no such thing,” rejoined Jack indignantly;“they are not inhuman wretches. If your companions can show that theywere doing no harm on our side of the Border they will be released witha warning not to spy upon Americans again.”
“Ah, then, you knew that we were spying, señor?”
“Yes, I overheard your conversation at the river’s edge. But it isimportant now that we should get out of this valley as soon aspossible. Have you any idea where we are?”
The Mexican shrugged his shoulders dubiously.
“Alas, señor, I am not certain, but I am inclined to think that we arein what is called the Lost Valley.”
“Lost Valley!” echoed Jack, struck by the dismal suggestion of thename. “Is there no way out?”
His companion shook his head.
“The legend says that they who blunder into the valley never escape,”he declared.
Jack could not repress a shudder as he thought of the skull by thepool; but the next instant he regained his nerve, for he knew that thestream must emerge from the valley somewhere.
“But surely this river has to find a way out of the valley?” he asked.
“Si, señor,” was the reply, “but the stream, so they say, burrows itsway through a tunnel by which no human being could hope to pass.”
“Then you mean that we are prisoners here?”
“Unless somebody discovers us—yes.”
“Are there many people dwelling in this part of the country?” inquiredJack, with a sinking heart, for, despite his effort to keep up hischeerfulness, his hope was fast ebbing.
“No, it is a wild section devoted to cattle raising, and only a fewwandering vaqueros ever come this way. It is from them that the news ofthe Lost Valley, which this may be, reached the outer world.”
“But we must escape,” cried Jack wildly, “we can’t remain here. We have
no food, no means of getting any, and————”
“I have my revolver,” interrupted the Mexican, “also plenty ofcartridges. Perhaps we can find some game.”
This at least was a spark of cheering news. Both Jack and the Mexicanwere almost famished and decided to set out at once to see if theycould bring down anything to serve as food. A revolver is not much of aweapon to use in hunting; but the Mexican declared that he was highlyproficient with it. Jack hadn’t much confidence in his own ability as arevolver shot, so it was agreed that his dark–skinned companion shoulddo the shooting.
They ranged the valley for some time without seeing a sign of life,when suddenly, from a clump of trees, there sprang three deer—two doesand a buck.
Bang! went the revolver, and the buck slackened speed and staggered. Acrimson stream from his shoulder showed that he had been badly wounded.But it took two more shots to bring him down. He was then dispatchedwith Jack’s knife. No time was lost in cutting off some steaks fromthe dead buck, a fire was speedily kindled and an appetizing aroma ofbroiling venison came from it. The meat was cooked by being held overthe glowing wood coals on sticks of hard wood. Jack could hardly waittill his was cooked to eat it.
Fresh deer meat is not the delicacy that some of my readers maysuppose. It is coarse, stringy and rather tasteless; but neither Jacknor his companion were in a mood to be particular. They devoured themeat ravenously, although they had no salt, bread or any other relish.But the meat strengthened Jack wonderfully, and as soon as it had beeneaten he proposed that they should explore the valley thoroughly in anattempt to find a way out.
The Mexican was nothing loath; but he was dubious about there being anyavenue of escape. However, with the stoical fatalism of his race heappeared to accept the situation philosophically.
Before setting out on their expedition the deer meat was hung in one ofthe trees as a protection in case any wild animals should get scent ofit. This done, the Border Boy and his oddly contrasted companion setoff, trudging around the valley in a determined effort to effect theirescape in some way.
Several cañons that opened off into the rocky walls were examined, butthey all proved to be “blind” and impassable. In exploring one of theseJack had a thrilling adventure.
His foot slipped on a rock and he plunged into a deep hole among someboulders. He was about to scramble out again, when from one of the rockcrevices a hideous flat head darted. At the same time a curious dry,rattling sound was heard on every side of him. The boy recognized thenoise with a sharp thrill of alarm.
The sound was the vibration of the horny tails of dozens ofdiamond–backed “rattlers,” into a den of which he had fallen. On everyside flat heads with evil–looking, leaden eyes were darting in and outof the rocks. The boy was paralyzed with fear. He dared not move a handor foot lest he precipitate an attack by the loathsome creatures. Assoon as he recovered his wits he set up a shout for his Mexican friend,who had told him that his name was Manuel Alvarez.
Alvarez was quickly on the spot. He took in the situation at a glance,and cautioning Jack not to move, he fired his revolver down into theden of noisome reptiles. The bullet passed so close to Jack’s head thathe could feel it fan the air. But, as the report of the pistol volleyedand crashed among the rocks, every rattler vanished.
“Now come out quickly!” ordered Alvarez, reaching down a hand to Jack,who took it and scrambled out of the pit of snakes.
As he thanked the Mexican for his promptness in acting, the boy couldnot help thinking in what an extraordinary situation he was involved.
Lost in a hidden valley with, for companion, a man who, not more thana few hours ago, had been bent on killing him, now it was to that manthat he owed his life.
“This is surely one of the strangest adventures in which I have evertaken part,” mused the Border Boy, as the two castaways resumed theirdreary search for a passage to the outer world.
The Border Boys with the Texas Rangers Page 8
