CHAPTER XVI.
THE HORNS OF A DILEMMA.
Few men, and still fewer boys, have ever been called upon to face theagonizing suspense which Nat underwent in the next few seconds. Soclose were the men to his hiding place that his nostrils could scentthe sharp, acrid odor of their cigarettes. He was still enough as hecrouched breathless upon the limb to have been carved out of wood, likethe branch upon which he rested. He did not even dare to wink his eyesfor fear of alarming the already aroused suspicions of the two menbelow him.
"Guess those jays got scared at a lion or something," presently decidedthe man who had been addressed as "colonel."
Nat, peering through his leafy screen, could see him as he sat uprighton his heavy saddle of carved leather and looked about him with a pairof hawk-like eyes.
Colonel Morello, for Nat had guessed correctly when he concluded thatthe man was the famous leader, was a man of about fifty years, with aweather-beaten face, seamed and lined by years of exposure and hardliving. But his eye, as has been said, was as keen and restless as aneagle's. A big scar made a livid mark across his cheek indicating thecourse of a bullet, fired years before when Morello had been at thehead of a band of Mexican revolutionists. In that capacity, indeed, hehad earned his brevet rank of "colonel."
A broad-brim gray sombrero, with a silver embossed band of leatherabout it, crowned the outlaw chief's head of glossy black hair, wornrather long and streaked with gray. Across his saddle horn resteda long-barrelled automatic rifle, of latest make and pattern. Forthe rest his clothes were those of an everyday mountaineer with theexception of a wide red sash. His horse was a fine buckskin animal, andwas almost as famous in Sierran legend as its redoubtable master.
His companion was a squat, evil-visaged Mexican, with none of thelatent nobility visible under the cruelty and rapaciousness whichmarred what might have once been the prepossessing countenance ofMorello. His black hair hung in dank, streaky locks down to the greasyshoulders of his well-worn buckskin coat, and framed a wrinkled faceas dark as a bit of smoked mahogany, in which glittered, like two livecoals, a pair of shifty black eyes. He was evidently an inferior to theother in every way--except possibly in viciousness.
Such were the two men who had paused below the tree in which wasconcealed, none too securely, the leader of the young Motor Rangers. Asto what his fate might be if he fell into their hands Nat could hazarda guess.
All at once the lad noticed that the branch of the tree upon which hewas lying was in motion. His first thought was that one of the menmight be shaking it in some way. But no--neither of them had moved.They were seemingly following the remark of the colonel regarding theblue-jays, and taking a last look about before leaving. In anothermoment Nat would have been safe, but as he moved his eyes to try andsee what had shaken the bough he suddenly became aware of an alarmingthing.
From the branch of another tree which intertwined with the one in whichhe was hidden, there was creeping toward him a large animal. The boygave a horrified gasp as he saw its greenish eyes fixed steadily on himwith a purposeful glare.
Step by step, and not making as much noise as a stalking cat, thecreature drew closer. To Nat's terrified imagination it almost seemedas if it had already given a death spring, and that he was in itsclutches.
Truly his predicament was a terrible one. If he remained as he was thebrute was almost certain to spring upon him. On the other hand to makea move to escape would be to draw the attention of the outlaws to hishiding place.
"Phew," thought Nat, "talk about being between two fires!"
Instinctively he drew his revolver. He felt that at least he stood moreof a chance with his human foes than he did with this tawny-coatedmonster of the Sierran slopes.
If the worst came to the worst he would fire at the creature and trustto luck to escaping from the opposite horn of his dilemma. But inthis Nat had reckoned without his host--or rather, his four-footedenemy--for without the slightest warning the big creature launchedits lithe body through the air. With a cry of alarm Nat dropped, andit landed right on the spot where a second before he had been. At thesame instant the colonel and his companion wheeled their horses witha startled exclamation. The horses themselves, no less alarmed, werepawing the ground and leaping about excitedly.
The boy's fall, and the howl of rage from the disappointed animal,combined to make a sufficiently jarring interruption to the calm andquiet of the mountain side.
"Caramba! what was that?" the colonel's voice rang out sharply.
"It's a boy!" cried his companion, pointing to Nat's recumbent form.To the lad's dismay, in his fall his revolver had flown out of itsholster and rolled some distance down the hillside. He lay therepowerless, and too stunned and bruised by the shock of his fall to move.
But the great cat above him was not inactive. Foiled in its firstspring it gathered itself for a second pounce but the colonel's sharpeye spied the tawny outline among the green boughs. Raising his riflehe fired twice. At the first shot there came a howl of pain and rage.At the second a crashing and clawing as the monster rolled out of thetree and fell in a still, motionless heap not far from Nat.
"Even the mountain lions seem to work for us," exclaimed the coloneltriumphantly, as he dismounted and walked to Nat's side.
"Yes, senor, and if I make no mistake this lad here is one of the veryboys we are in search of."
"You are right. These Americans are devils. I make no doubt but thisone was on his way to spy into our manner of living at our fort. Ehboy, isn't that true?"
"No," replied Nat, whose face was pale but resolute. He scrambledpainfully to his feet. Covered with dust, scratched in a dozen placesby his fall through the branches, and streaming with perspiration,he was not an imposing looking youth right then; but whatever hisappearance might have been, his spirit was dauntless.
"No," he repeated, "I came up here to look for a horse that one of ushad lost."
"That's a very likely story," was the colonel's brief comment, in adry, harsh tone. His eyes grew hard as he spoke. Evidently he had madeup his mind that Nat was a spy.
"It is true," declared Nat, "I had no idea of spying into your affairs."
"Oh no," sneered the colonel vindictively, "I suppose you will tell usnext that you did not know where our fort is; that you were not awarethat it is up that gorge there?"
"This is the first I've heard of it," declared Nat truthfully.
"I hold a different opinion," was the rejoinder, "if you had notbeen up here on some mischievous errand you would not have concealedyourself in that tree. Eh, what have you to say to that?"
"Simply that from all I had heard of you and your band. I was afraidto encounter you on uneven terms, and when I heard you coming, I hid,"replied Nat.
"That is it, is it? Well, I have the honor to inform you that I don'tbelieve a word of your story. Do you know what we did with spies when Iwas fighting on the border?"
Nat shook his head. The colonel's eyelids narrowed into two littleslits through which his dark orbs glinted flintily.
"We shot them," he whipped out.
For a moment Nat thought he was about to share the same fate. Thecolonel raised his rifle menacingly and glanced along the sights. Buthe lowered it the next minute and spoke again.
"Since you are so anxious to see our fort I shall gratify your wishes,"he said. "Manuello, just take a turn or two about that boy and we'lltake him home with us; he'll be better game than that lion yonder."
Manuello nimbly tumbled off his horse, and in a trice had Nat boundwith his rawhide lariat. The boy was so securely bundled in it thatonly his legs could move.
"Good!" approvingly said the colonel as he gazed at the tightly tiedcaptive, "it would be folly to take chances with these slipperyAmericanos."
Manuello now remounted, and taking a half-hitch with the loose end ofhis lariat about the saddle horn, he dug his spurs into his pony. Thelittle animal leaped forward, almost jerking Nat from his feet. He onlyremained upright with an effort.
"Be careful, Manuello," warned the colonel, "he is too valuable a prizeto damage."
Every step was painful to Nat, bruised as he was, and weak from hungerand thirst as well, but he pluckily gave no sign. He had deduced fromthe fresh condition of his captors' ponies that they could not havebeen ridden far. This argued that it would not be long before theyreached the outlaws' fortress.
In this surmise he was correct. The trail, after winding amongchaparral and madrone, plunged abruptly down and entered the gloomydefile he had noticed when he first made up his mind that he was lost.Viewed closely the place was even more sinister than it had seemedat a distance. Hardly a tree grew on its rugged sides, which were ofa reddish brown rock. It seemed as if they had been, at some remoteperiod, seared with tremendous fires.
The trail itself presently evolved into a sort of gallery, hewn outof the sheer cliff face. The precipice overhung it above, while belowwas a dark rift that yawned upon unknown depths. So narrow was thepass that a step even an inch or two out of the way would have plungedthe one making it over into the profundities of the chasm. A sort oftwilight reigned in the narrow gorge, making the surroundings appeareven more wild and gloomy. A chill came over Nat as he gazed about him.Do what he would to keep up his spirits they sank to the lowest ebb ashe realized that he was being conducted into a place from which escapeseemed impossible. Without wings, no living creature could have escapedfrom that gorge against the will of its lawless inhabitants.
Suddenly, the trail took an abrupt turn, and Nat saw before him theoutlaws' fort itself.
The Motor Rangers Through the Sierras Page 16
