CHAPTER XXIV.
THE ATTACK ON THE MINE.
Flinging his legs over each side of the ladder, Coyote Pete slid to theground like a boy sliding down a cellar door.
"I could catch the glint of sunlight on their rifles," he explained."The beggars were trying to approach unseen, though, I guess, for theywere sneaking round a neck of woods so as to take advantage of thatarroyo that runs almost up to the mine. Better get busy with thatborer."
And "get busy" they did. Holes were rapidly bored in the stockade, theapertures being of sufficient size to accommodate comfortably themuzzle of a rifle. Above each such hole another was bored, to enablethe defenders to see the position of their foes. Although this worktook more than an hour, there was still no sign of the enemy. But theyevidently had a close watch kept on the mine, for a hat elevated on along stick above the top of the stockade was promptly riddled withbullets.
"Jingo!" gasped Jack. "Those fellows mean business."
"What do you suppose they are going to do?" Walt asked Buck Bradley.The stout showman looked grave.
"This hanging back looks bad," he rejoined. "I guess they are waitingtill dusk so as to try and catch us unprepared. Evidently they figgerthey've got us where they want us, and there is no use being in a rushabout finishing us up."
Buck's words were grim, but his expression was grimmer yet. The formerranch boss had been in many a tough place in his day, but revolving thesituation in his mind he could not call to recollection any moredangerous circumstances than those in which he now found himself.
"Bottled and corked," was the way he expressed it to Coyote Pete, whofully shared his apprehensions.
Fortunately, behind the office of the mine, there was a small room wellstocked with rifles and ammunition. This was wise precaution of Mr.Merrill's, who, knowing the Mexican character to a T, had insisted onthis room being provided in case of strikes or other difficulties.
The store of arms was drawn upon freely, and each of the defenders hada spare rifle at his side. The weapons were piled by their respectiveholes while the besieged awaited the attack. But a hasty dinner wasprepared on the coal-oil stove Of the office, and eaten and digestedbefore there came any move on the part of Madero's men.
Through the peep-holes a casual inspection showed nothing outside butthe hillside sloping away from the mine, with here and there a clump ofbushes or small, scrubby trees. But every once in a while the grasswould stir, or a clump of bushes would be agitated strangely, as someconcealed form crept up yet closer to the stockade. Evidently, as Buckhad said, the intention of Madero was to "rush" the place.
The mining village now seemed deserted, except for a few forms of womenand children which could be seen flitting about. Evidently most of themen had joined the insurrectos, hoping to have a share in the loot whenthe time came.
"Say, Geisler!" exclaimed Buck Bradley suddenly, "got any steam in theboiler?"
"Ches. Aboudt forty or fifty pounds. Der fires vos banked. Pud vy?"
"Oh, nothing. I've just got a little plan in my head. Now, Jack,suppose you and I take a little run to the boiler room and look aboutus a bit."
The boy was glad of anything to do to relieve the tension of waitingfor the attack that didn't come. He gladly accompanied theself-reliant Westerner to the boiler house. They found, as Geisler hadsaid, that in one of the boilers steam was still up.
"Now let's take a look around here, sonny," said Buck, glancing aboutthe walls as if in search of something. "Ah! Here we are, that willdo."
He pounced on a big reel of fire hose attached to the wall, as he spoke.
"Fine! Couldn't be better," he continued, as he rapidly unwound it."Why, there must be fifty feet or more here. Now let's see. Where isthe blow-off valve of this boiler?"
"This is it, isn't it?" asked Jack, indicating a valve, withwheel-controlled outlet near the base of the boiler.
"That's it. Now then for a monkey wrench and then we are all ready togive those greasers the surprise of their lives in case they try anattack upon this side of the stockade."
"What are you going----"
That was as far as Jack got in his question. As the words left hislips, there came from without the sharp sound of a shot.
Bang!
"Phew!" whistled Buck. "That's the overture. The performance is aboutter begin."
In the meantime, the members of the party left at the peep-holes byBuck Bradley and Jack, had been trying their level best to obtain someinkling of which side the insurrectos meant to storm first. But, forall the sign the long, waving grass gave, or the bushes imparted, theymight as well have gazed at the sky. Had they not known that theinsurrectos were out there somewhere, they would have deemed thehillside barren of life.
Suddenly, however, as Coyote Pete's keen eye was sweeping the openspace before the stockade, the grass quite near at hand parted, and awiry little Mexican stepped out.
It was a good evidence of the control that Madero exercised over hismen that this fellow, although he must have known he was placing hislife in deadly peril, advanced to within a few feet of the stockadewithout a tremor.
Apparently, judging from his expression, he was astonished that nohostile demonstration came from within. But the defenders had no wishto sacrifice life needlessly, and refrained from firing upon him.Suddenly he halted, and raising his voice, cried out in Spanish:
"Will you foolish gringoes surrender and give up the gold peaceably, ormust we attack the mine?"
"Did Madero tell you to ask that?" shouted Pete through his peep-hole.
"Yes; the general demanded that I should offer you this chance for yourlives."
"Then tell the general, with our compliments, that if he thinks he'llget Mr. Merrill's gold without a fight, he's up against the toughestproposition he ever tackled."
"As you will, senors. Adios!"
With a wave of his hat, the Mexican ran speedily back down thehillside, and dived into some bushes. The watchers of the stockadewere of the opinion that the wave of the hat was merely a bit of Latinextravagance. They soon found out, however, that it had thesignificance of a signal. For, as the fellow dropped into cover, thegrass became alive with human forms. Coyote Pete's finger, which hadbeen trembling upon the trigger, pressed it.
Bang!
It was the first shot of the desperate battle for the defense of themine, and the sound that had reached the two in the boiler house.
The report was followed by a series of appalling yells from without thestockade. Mexicans seemed to spring from every clump of grass and bitof brush. It was amazing how they could have crept so close withoutbeing detected.
"We can't last five minutes!" gasped Walt, as he gazed out. The ladfired grimly into the advancing rush, however, and the others stood totheir guns like veterans. Their cheeks were blanched under the tan,though, and the corners of their mouths tightened. Each one of thosedefenders realized the practical hopelessness of their positions.
Suddenly, amid the besiegers' onrushing forms, appeared a figuremounted upon a superb black horse. The animal curvetted and plunged asthe reports of the rifles of both sides rattled away furiously, but hisrider had him in perfect control.
"There's Ramon, the scoundrel!" roared Pete, gazing at the defiantfigure. "I'll give him a shot for luck."
But for once the plainsman's aim was at fault. The bullet evidentlydid not even ruffle the former cattle rustler.
"Ledt me try!" puffed the German ferociously.
He fared no better.
"Bah! Und I thought I vos a goodt shot!" he exploded.
"It ain't that," rejoined Pete superstitiously. "The Mexicans say thatRamon bears a charmed life, and that only a silver bullet will ever layhim low."
Before the professor could make any comment Ramon was heard issuingcommands in a sharp voice. He seemed to have the direction of theattack. Of Madero there was no sign, unless a small figure on a shaggypony, far to the rear, was that of the insurrecto leader.
The result of Ramon's command was soon evident. The attackers had notbeen prepared for so sharp a defense, and, anxious to lose as few menas possible, Ramon had ordered them to drop once more into the grass.
This was good strategy, as it was apparently only a matter of timebefore the mine defenders would have to surrender, and it was littleuse to sacrifice lives in a mad rush against their rifles.
The attack had splintered the stockade in a score of places, but,thanks to the toughness of the seasoned wood, the bullets that hadpenetrated had lost most of their strength. Beyond a few scratchesfrom flying splinters, none of the defenders were injured.
"What can they be up to?" wondered Pete, as half an hour passed and nofurther sign came from the besiegers.
Ramon's figure had now vanished. Perhaps he realized that the fangs oftheir enemies were by no means drawn, and deemed it more prudent not totake chances on the strength of his "charmed life."
And so the time passed. The sun was well on his march toward thewestern horizon before there came a move on the part of the enemy, andwhen it did come it was a startling one. Taking advantage of every bitof cover, the astute mestizos had crept around the stockade till theywere in a position exactly behind the defenders. So that, in fact, forthe last half hour, the alert rifles of Coyote Pete and his companionshad been covering emptiness.
A yell as the attackers charged from the direction into which they hadcovertly worked themselves apprised the besieged of what had happened.Bitterly blaming his stupidity in not foreseeing such a move, Pete,followed by the others, darted across the stockade. As they werehalfway across, however, a dozen or more heads appeared upon theundefended top.
The insurrectos had determined on a bold rush, and unmolested they hadsucceeded in scaling the walls on each other's shoulders.
"Good Lord!" groaned Pete, as he saw.
Despair was in the countenances of the others, but, even as they haltedin dismay at what seemed certain annihilation, a strange thing happened.
With a screaming, earsplitting roar, a white cloud swept from thedirection of the boiler house at the clustering forms on the top of thestockade.
It was a column of live steam that swept them from their perches, likedried leaves before a wind.
Buck Bradley's plan had worked with terrible effectiveness. Before therush of white-vapor the insurrectos melted away in a screaming, scaldedflurry. In less than two minutes after Jack had turned the steam on,not a sign of them was to be seen.
"Hooray!" yelled the boys, carried away by the sudden relief of thestrain when it had seemed that all was over. "Hooray! We win!"
"Don't be premature!" admonished Buck gravely, as the column of steamwas shut off. "We ain't out of ther woods yet by a long shot. Howabout it, Pete?"
The old plainsman tugged his sun-bleached moustache viciously.
"Why, boys," he declared emphatically, "them reptiles ain't begun terfight yet."
Border Boys Across the Frontier Page 24
