The Border Boys with the Mexican Rangers

by John Henry Goldfrap

  CHAPTER XIII.

  SENORITA ALVERADO.

  But the next minute, to their infinite relief, they decided that it wasonly a false alarm. In all probability, so Jack surmised, it signifiedthat the Mexicans had broken through the roof and were firing a volleyof shots into the garret to terrify its supposed inmates. He couldhardly forbear a chuckle as he pictured the outlaws’ astonishment,when, tired of their attempts to terrify, they should penetrate thegarret and find it empty of life.

  “Providence willing, we’ll be far away by then,” he thought to himselfas, with a wave of his arm, he signalled to the others crouching in theshadows of the rancho, that all was ready.

  The senorita laughed at the idea of a side saddle, when Jackapologetically indicated to her the ordinary Mexican affair which hadbeen the only one they could raise.

  “A girl born and brought up on a Mexican hidalgo’s estancia can ride inany saddle, senor,” she said, “more particularly to oblige such gallantrescuers.”

  Jack felt himself coloring under his minstrel-like coating of soot asthe girl spoke. The lad was somewhat susceptible, and the dark eyes ofthe senorita had made quite an impression on him.

  “The pleasure is all ours, senorita,” he said, with a vaguerecollection of having seen that phrase in print somewhere.

  The young Mexican girl sat her saddle as lightly as a bird on abough, and the mount they had selected for her,—“borrowing” one ofthe outlaws’ animals for the purpose,—was a fine, springy-steppingcreature, full of life and action.

  “I guess our best plan is to head for Don Alverado’s estancia,” saidJack, as they crept as noiselessly as possible forward.

  But, as a matter of fact, much caution was not necessary, for theMexicans in the rancho, confident of having bottled up the Americans,were making so much noise that the light amble of the horses could notbe heard above the roar. Their chief danger lay in being seen.

  This, however, was not so probable as might be imagined. The corral wasseparated from the house by quite a small plantation of willows andcottonwoods, among whose branches the moonlight filtered thinly. Oncethey had rounded the corral they would be practically invisible.

  The senorita informed them that it was ten miles from there to SantaAnita, in the suburbs of which her father lived. This, as we are aware,Jack already knew, and the corral once rounded their steeds were set ata lively gait.

  “Are there any police in Santa Anita, senorita?” asked the professor,as they rode rapidly through the night, the well-fed horses, refreshedby their rest, pacing strongly forward. The professor was a greatstickler for law and order.

  “No police, senor,” was the rejoinder, “but it is the headquarters ofthe Mexican Rangers who have charge of the district. My father is thelocal magistrate and administrator, and has charge of them.”

  “I sincerely hope that he will set them on the track of thoseruffians,” said the man of science severely, “Mexico should be known asa land of law and order like the United States.”

  “Yet I have heard that you occasionally have train robbers and allsorts of terrible criminals in the United States, senor.”

  The senorita spoke gently, but like all of her race, she was patrioticand a flash of fire was in her eye as she spoke.

  “But we try to get rid of them, senorita,” stammered the scientist,somewhat taken aback at this self-possessed young lady’s reply.

  “And so do we, senor,” was the answer, which caused Coyote Pete tochuckle, “but you see, they won’t always wait to be caught.”

  “You speak English charmingly, senorita,” said the professor, in anendeavor to change the subject and pay a compliment at the same time.

  “That is to the credit of one of your American colleges, senor. I waseducated at Vassar University.”

  The boys exchanged glances. So that explained the senorita’s poise andself-possession, which were far more those of an American girl than ofa languishing Spanish beauty.

  “I must compliment Vassar,” said the professor, bowing his angularform. But he had forgotten that he was riding bareback and was not themost accomplished of horsemen in any event. His attempt at courtlinessalmost caused his downfall, for, losing his balance, he would haveslipped from his gaunt steed if he had not grasped it desperately bythe wither lock with one hand while his arm encircled its neck.

  From this undignified position he was rescued by Coyote Pete, whospurred swiftly to his side,—it will be recalled that Coyote hadsaved his spurs out of the general loss of property—and aided him torecover his balance.

  They all had the grace to refrain from laughing, although thetemptation was a sore one. The man of science, glancing suspiciouslyabout him, was unable to detect the shadow of a smile on any of theirfaces, although the senorita did find it necessary to lean over andadjust her stirrup leather. When she looked up, however, her face wasquite demure.

  From time to time, as they rode forward over the level savannah, theyglanced behind them. But the intervals grew longer as the distancebetween them and the Mexicans increased, and there was still no sign ofpursuit.

  “I guess they’ve discovered our escape, all right,” said Jack, “butdon’t venture to chase us toward the town.”

  “That’s it, I reckon,” said Coyote Pete, “and in any event, with ourhorses we could outdistance them all with a mile start.”

  “All of them except that big black of Ramon’s,” said Jack.

  “Guess you’re right,” agreed Coyote, “I’d like to know if there air anyrelatives of that animal hangin’ around. I’d buy ’em if it bust me.You don’t meet up with a bit of horseflesh like that every day of yourlife.”

  An hour later, without any incident worthy of mention having occurred,they clattered through the sleeping town of Santa Anita, and, asdaylight broke wanly, they found themselves outside the white wallssurrounding the princely hacienda of the wealthy Don Alverado. But ifthe town was asleep, all seemed to be awake here. Lights could be seenflashing in the house which stood on a small eminence some distancefrom the outer walls.

  As they neared the gate of the estate, it flew open and a dozenhorsemen, fully armed, dashed out.

  “Surrender, caballeros,” they cried in Mexican, “or we shall kill youwithout mercy.”

  “Hold your horses,” hailed back Coyote Pete, quite oblivious of thefact that, in all probability, none of the horsemen understood thatfree and easy form of English.

  But to the boys’ surprise the cow-puncher’s words were greeted with ashout of laughter from the advancing ranks, and a fresh young voicecried:

  “Who are you,—for the love of Mike?”

  “We are Americans who have brought back the Senorita Alverado,” criedPete, and was going on, but his words were drowned in a ringing cheer.The next minute explanations ensued. It appeared that the party whichhad sallied out at their approach was made up of young American miningengineers, resident in the neighborhood, who, on hearing of DonAlverado’s loss, had at once formed themselves into a posse.

  They had been starting out on a hunt for the abductors of the Don’sbeautiful daughter when they heard the advance of our party. Surmisingthat it might be the outlaws returning to commit further outrages, theyhad concealed themselves and dashed out intent on capturing or killingthe disturbers of law and order.

  Their enthusiasm over the news of Senorita Isabella Alverado’s rescueknew no bounds. Wheeling their horses they dashed off up the broaddrive leading to the house to inform the Don,—who was anxiously pacinghis library,—of the good news. They were followed, at a more sobergait, by the Border Boys and their party.

  “My poor father! He must have known heavy grief in the past few hours,”breathed the senorita, as they approached the house. Jack was struckby the unselfishness of the thought. Of herself the senorita made nomention nor of all that she had endured at the hands of the outlaws. Itwas only of her father that she appeared to think.

  Don Alverado, a tall, dignified looking old Spanish gentleman, witha gray goatee and
aristocratically pointed moustaches, stood on thesteps of the porch as they came up. His daughter threw herself fromher mount as they drew close, and rushing into her father’s arms, washeld there for a brief interval. After his first emotion at recoveringhis daughter had subsided, Don Alverado bade the servants take theAmericans’ horses, and came forward, warmly thanking them for theirservices. It made the boys feel rather shamefaced to be thanked in suchemotional fashion, for the Don would insist on kissing each of them,and by the time he got through his face was almost as black as theirown sooty countenances.

  Then they entered the house where, after they had enjoyed refreshingbaths, a hasty breakfast, but magnificent in its appointments, wasserved. In the meantime, Senorita Alverado had slipped upstairs anddonned a clinging gown of black, in the bosom of which flashed animmense diamond. The boys gazed at the wearer of the gem with moreadmiration than at the stone itself. If Senorita Alverado had lookedbeautiful in the lone rancho she appeared absolutely regal now.

  “I see you regarding that diamond with interest, gentlemen,” said DonAlverado, “it has an interesting history. It was the present to me manyyears since of a man who had received it from an Indian sheep herder.This man, according to my friend, had found a wonderful cave in somemountain that he called the Trembling Mountain. My friend tried to gethim to give some detail, but the Indian declared that devils lived inthe mountain who would kill him if they knew he had revealed the secretof their dwelling place to the outside world; so that except for thefact that there is the stone,—and you can see for yourselves it is abeautiful one,—I regret I can tell you no more details. But, even asit is, the diamond is doubly interesting outside of its intrinsic valueon account of its history.”

  As the professor made no mention of their own peculiar interest inthe legend of the Trembling Mountain, Jack and the rest said nothingabout it. But, perhaps, all their hearts beat a little faster at thisconvincing proof that the strange story of Mr. Stetson’s dead protegewas true.

  But it had been a long night and the lads could hardly keep theireyes open, even their sense of politeness flagging under the leadenfeeling that had come into their eyelids. The Don noted this, and atonce suggested bed. It was high time, too, as the early sun was alreadybeginning to light up the magnificent grounds about the place, and theboys felt like regular night owls.

  Servants in gorgeous livery escorted each lad to a bedroom furnishedwith the gloomy magnificence characteristic of the Spanish race.But not one of them noted his surroundings as, tumbling into thedeliciously cool, clean sheets and sinking into the downy mattresses,they dropped into slumber as profound as it was dreamless.