Bert Wilson at Panama

by Madeline Leslie

  CHAPTER IV

  THE CAPTURED SENTRY

  They had wormed their way through the thick undergrowth for perhaps threehundred feet, when Melton, who was in the van, paused abruptly and gave asign of caution. Then he beckoned the boys to come nearer.

  "They've got a sentry posted here," he whispered, "I'd hoped they'd betoo careless or too drunk to do it. Look over there a little to theright."

  They peered through the bushes and saw, sitting on a tree stump, aMexican, carrying a carbine, slung in the hollow of his arm. His backwas toward them at the moment, but even while they gazed, he lazily roseand turned around, so that they caught a full view of his face. It was arascally face that left no doubt in their minds that he was one of thebandit crew. A long knife was thrust in his belt, and he looked like anugly customer to tackle in a fight. His small, piglike eyes lookedlistlessly about, and then, seeing no sign of danger, he reseatedhimself, and taking a flask from his pocket, applied it to his lips.

  At a glance from Melton, they retreated as noiselessly as they hadadvanced, and not until they had gotten beyond earshot, did they stop forconsultation as to their next move.

  Bert and Tom felt their hearts beating high with excitement, but Meltonwas as cool and impassive as though he were seated on the veranda of hisranch.

  While they waited for him to speak, he drew from its sheath a longdouble-edged bowie knife and fingered it thoughtfully.

  "It's a long time since I've done it," he mused. "I wonder if I can doit now. I'll try it out first."

  Rising, he went over to a tree about fifty feet away. At a height of sixfeet from the ground, he cut out a circle of bark, about the size of asaucer. The white patch stood out in strong contrast to the rest of thetree. Returning to the boys, who had looked on puzzled at his action, heplanted himself solidly and took the bowie by the blade. A moment hestood thus, measuring the distance. Then he raised the weapon and hurledit at the bark. It whizzed through the air in a gleam of light, andstruck two inches inside the circle, where it hung quivering. It was amarvelous bit of knife play, and Bert and Tom could hardly repress anexclamation.

  "That's all I wanted to know," muttered Melton, as he came back, afterpulling the knife from the tree and restoring it to its sheath. "It's alittle trick that has saved my life once or twice before on the plains,and I wanted to make sure that I hadn't forgotten. I guess if I couldhit that circle, I could do for the Mexican.

  "For as you boys may imagine," he went on, "I wasn't doing this thing forpastime. We've got to get that sentinel out of the way. Of course, itwould be an easy thing to wing him with a bullet. But that makes a noiseand probably the camp is not far off. Our only chance lies in takingthem by surprise. If they once get wind of our coming we'll have as muchchance as a celluloid dog chasing an asbestos cat through Hades. I'drather take this fellow alive if we could, for we might be able to getsome valuable information from him. But I'm afraid he'd let out a yellor shoot off his gun before we could get to him. I guess we'll have todepend on this little persuader," he concluded, as he put his hand on theshaft of the knife.

  Bert had been thinking rapidly.

  "Couldn't we save that as a last resort?" he ventured. "I think thatperhaps I might creep up on that fellow without his seeing me."

  "But how?" asked Melton in surprise. "You'd have to be as quick as acoyote and as light as a cat to do it. What's your idea?"

  "Why," replied Bert, "I figure that we might go back to the place wherewe first saw him. You can see from the listless way he looked aroundthat he isn't really on the alert. Then too, he's drinking. If we findthat he's facing our way, I'll make a circuit and get back of him. Thenat the right second I'll make my dash. He probably won't hear me until Iget close to him, and then he'll be so paralyzed, what with the surpriseand the drink, that I'll have my hands on his throat before he can make asound. In the meantime, you keep him covered with your knife, and if hesees me too soon you can let fly."

  Melton, a man used to quick decisions, spent only a moment weighing thepros and cons, looking keenly at Bert the while. What he saw seemed tosatisfy him.

  "It's a plucky stunt," he said, "but you're the lad to do it if any onecan. I'd sure like to make that fellow talk before he goes over thegreat divide. Come along."

  Noiselessly, they reached their former point of observation. Thesentinel still sat there facing their way. The flask was in his hand andthey could see from the way he tilted it that it was nearly empty. Hiscarbine stood with its butt on the ground and the muzzle resting againstthe stump. Crouching low in the thicket, Melton drew his knife from itssheath, his eye gauging the distance. Bert, who had shed his coat andshoes, with a parting pat from Tom, made a wide circuit to the left,creeping along with his body close to the ground and scarcely daring tobreathe. Once a twig cracked beneath his hand and his heart seemed tostop beating. But no sound came from the unsuspecting sentry, and aftera moment's pause he went on. Soon he reached a point about a hundredfeet in the rear of the Mexican, and behind the shelter of a huge treerose slowly to his feet.

  For forty feet the undergrowth was thick enough to conceal him. But thencame the little clearing where for sixty feet no concealment waspossible. He did not dare to tiptoe over it, because, if he were seen hecould not get under way fast enough to reach his quarry. It must be alightning dash. Once he had run a hundred yards--three hundredfeet--in ten seconds flat. That would give him three seconds or less tocross the clearing. But a bullet could travel faster still. He drew along breath and then, as lightly and swiftly as a panther, he leaped overthe intervening space.

  He had covered half the distance when the sentry heard him and sprang tohis feet. For the fraction of a second he stood, petrified with surpriseand fright. Then he reached for his carbine, but as though realizingthat he could not level it in time, he abandoned that idea and snatchedat his knife. And just then Bert launched himself on him like athunderbolt.

  Down they went fighting like wildcats. They rolled over and over.Bert's hands were on the rascal's throat and he could not utter a cry.But his knife was out and upraised to strike, when Tom, who with Meltonhad rushed from the bushes the moment the clash had come, grasped theuplifted hand and wrenched it until the knife fell to the ground.Another instant, and the scoundrel, bound with his own belt and gaggedwith a portion of the serape torn from his shoulders, was sitting huddledup on the ground, with his back against the stump, while baffled rage andhate glowed from his wicked eyes.

  "Good work, my boy, good work," said Melton, as he grasped Bert's handwarmly. "You tackled that fellow like a ton of brick. I never saw aprettier rough house than that was for a minute. Now get your breathback while I try to get this fellow to listen to reason. I know thisbreed of cattle pretty well and I have a hunch that it won't be longbefore we understand each other."

  He drew out his bowie knife and felt its edge, while the prisoner lookedon with a growing terror in his eyes.

  Melton reached down and grabbing the fellow by the collar jerked him tohis feet.

  "Now, listen," he said, in the mongrel blending of English and Mexicanthat is understood on both sides of the border. "You're going to be adead man in one minute if you don't tell me the truth. Sabe?"

  Melton's eyes were like two lambent flames, and as the fellow looked intothem, he wilted like a rag. He nodded his head eagerly as a sign that hewould tell all he knew.

  "I guessed as much," said Melton, grimly, as he turned to the boys."These dogs would betray their own brother to save their miserablecarcass. Untie that gag, and I'll turn him inside out until I get fromhim all he knows."

  He placed the point of his bowie at the brigand's throat, and held itthere while the boys removed the gag.

  "One yip from you, and this knife goes in up to the hilt," said Melton."Now tell me how far away your camp is from here."

  "About a mile," replied the man, sullenly.

  "What is the name of your captain?"

  "E
l Tigre," was the answer, and the fellow shivered as he mentioned thatredoubtable flame.

  "How many men has he with him?" was the next question.

  The bandit did not know exactly. There had been fifty or more, but adozen or so had been sent on an expedition late last night. Maybe therewere thirty or forty there now. He could not tell for sure.

  The knife pricked sharply, and the fellow went down on his knees in anagony of terror, and swore by all his saints that he was telling all heknew. Why should he lie to the senor? The senor might kill him, butwhat he was saying was the truth.

  "Get up," said Melton, disgustedly, for the cowardice of the cringingcreature sickened him. "Now tell me what captives were in the camp andwhat your chief intends to do with them."

  There were two captives there just now. One of them was a Chinaman, whohad been taken in a raid on a hacienda, down in the valley. The otherwas an Americano, who had been surprised yesterday, when he came upon theband, just as they were getting ready to go away into the mountains.Three days ago there had been seven prisoners, but now--. The rascalmade an expressive gesture that told only too clearly what had become ofthe miserable seven, and Melton had need of all his self-control not toend his prisoner's worthless life then and there, while Bert and Tom grewpale as they thought of Dick.

  By an effort they restrained themselves, and the questioning went on.The bandit did not know what his chief intended to do. He rather thoughtthat very morning the Chinaman would be put out of the way. But theyoung Americano, so cool, so brave--he did not know. El Tigre hadseemed to be puzzled about him. The chief had been drinking hard andwas very ugly. Yes, that was all he knew, and if the senor were to killhim, he swore on the head of his father that he had told nothing but thetruth.

  At a sign from Melton, the boys replaced the gag. They had drained himdry of information, and now they knew the work that was cut out for them.They dragged him into the thick underbrush and tied him to a tree. Thenwith a parting prick from the bowie, and a threat of instant death, if hesought to release himself before their return, they braced themselves forthe task before them.

  "It's up to us, my lads," said Melton, as he carefully examined hisweapons to see that they were in prime condition, while Bert and Tomfollowed his example. "The next half hour will probably tell the story.We're in for a lovely scrap, and we'll have that friend of yours with uswhen we come back, or we'll never come back at all."

  A keen sense of elation thrilled Bert and Tom, as they fell in behind theold frontiersman, and followed him in Indian file up the path. Thesickening suspense was over. The storm was about to break. Waiting wasto be replaced by action. A few minutes more and they were to bebattling for Dick's life and their own. The primeval man had brokenthrough the veneer of civilization, and their nerves were tingling withlonging for the fight.

  For ten minutes they went on at a rapid pace. Then the sounds of thecamp fell upon their ears, and they crept on with caution. They couldhear oaths, interspersed with drunken laughter, and the stamping ofhorses. Abandoning the path, they vanished into, the thick undergrowth,and now on hands and knees drew near the clearing. Reaching its edge,they peered through the bushes, and saw a sight that froze the blood intheir veins.