CHAPTER XXIII
TRAPPED
After leaving Holcomb, Yeager walked down to the river-bed, followed thebank for a couple of hundred yards, and crept forward on all foursthrough the alfalfa pasture to the barb-wire fence that paralleled theroad at some distance. He crawled beneath the lowest wire and movedthrough the mesquite to a point from which he could see the buildingwhere Farrar and Threewit were held prisoners. Two guards with riflesacross their shoulders paced up and down outside.
Here Steve lay motionless for about half an hour. He believed thatbefore the poker game began some one of the party would drop around tosee that all was quiet and regular in the camp. His guess was a goodone. Pasquale himself, arm in arm with Ochampa, made the rounds andstopped for a moment to speak to the sentries in front of the prison.The man crouched in the bear grass could tell that Gabriel was in highgood-humor. He jested with the men and clapped them on the shoulderjovially. He laughed as heartily at his own witticisms as they did.
"There shall be mescal to-morrow for the whole army to drink the healthof the Liberator and his bride. See to it, Ochampa," he ordered as theywalked away.
"Viva Pasquale the Liberator," cried the sentries in a fine fervor ofenthusiasm.
Presently the man in hiding stole quietly to the road and advanced downit at a leisurely pace.
"Promising them mescal, eh?" he murmured. "Well, I'll bet a bird in thehand is worth twenty or most sixteen in the bush." He pattedaffectionately a bottle that lay snug in his pocket.
"Who goes?" demanded one of the prison guards as he approached.
"Pedro Cabenza."
Steve chatted with them for a few moments before he produced his bird inthe hand. They told him of what Pasquale had promised. Slyly he lookedaround to see that they were alone and drew from his pocket the bottle.
"Ho, companero! Behold what I have. Gringo whiskey--better far thanmescal," he cried softly as he handed the treasure to one of the guards.
The man glanced around hurriedly, even as had Cabenza, then tilted themouth of the bottle over his lips and let a long stiff drink gurgle downhis throat. He patted his fat paunch contentedly and handed the bottleto his companion. The second guard also drank deeply.
Cabenza put an arm across the shoulders of each and drew their headsclose while he whispered confidential scandal about Pasquale and RamonCulvera. The two men listened greedily, eager for more. It happened thatthere was no truth in the salacious tidbits which Pedro retailed, but heinvented glibly and that did just as well.
The heads of his listeners began to nod. They murmured drowsyinterjections and leaned more heavily upon his arms. Ineffectually theytried to shake off the lassitude that was creeping over their senses.
"Keep watch, brother, while I take just forty winks," begged one, andfairly thrust his rifle into the hand of Yeager.
The soldier staggered to the adobe wall and slumped down beside thedoor. His eyes closed, fluttered open again, shut a second time. Theydid not open. He was fast asleep.
The second guard sat down beside him and smiled up sleepily at thestanding man. "Manuel sleeps on duty. He is--a fool. I do--not--sleep.No, I--I--"
His head drooped on his chest. Steve took the rifle that fell from hisrelaxed hand.
Instantly the American was tapping gently on the door."Threewit--Farrar!" he called softly. "This is Steve."
There was the sound of quick footsteps. A voice within answered in awhisper.
"Yes, Steve. This is Frank."
From his pocket the range-rider took a bunch of skeleton keys. It was notrouble to find one that would unlock the door, but in addition to thisfastening there was a padlock. With a hatchet which he had broughtYeager pried the staple out. In another moment the door was open.
"Help me drag these fellows inside," ordered the cowpuncher, takingcommand promptly. "Frank, tear one of those blankets into strips. We'vegot to tie their hands and feet and gag them. Shuck your coat, Threewit.You've got to wear this fellow's blouse and sombrero. You, too, Frank.It's Manuel's castaways for you. Move lively, boys. This is surely goingto be our busy evening."
"What's the programme?" asked Farrar, doing what he was told to do.
Steve explained briefly. "Old Pasquale has got Ruth Seymour here at hishouse. He intends to marry her to-morrow. I don't mean he shall. A goodfriend of mine is entertaining the old scoundrel to-night and some ofthe other high moguls in camp. My notion is to slip into old Gabriel'sheadquarters and rescue Ruth."
"Has Ruth been here ever since she came down with Harrison that time helied to her about you being wounded?" asked Threewit. "We were told youbutted in and took her home."
"I did. Harrison went to Los Robles later and brought her by force. Hewas looking for me and bumped into her by chance. His idea was to marryher as soon as they reached camp. But Pasquale balked. He took a fancyto Ruth himself."
While Yeager talked his fingers were busy every moment. From long usagehe was expert at roping and tying. Many a time he had thrown the diamondhitch while packing on mountain trails. His skill served him well now.He trussed the guards as if they had been packs for the saddle, bindingthem hand and feet so that they could not move.
"We heard that an American had been killed in camp to-day. We've beenworried for fear it might have been you, Steve," said the camera man.
"It was Harrison. He tried to sell Pasquale out to Farrugia and the oldfox got his letter. Pasquale accused him of his treachery and had himassassinated on the spot. Better pull that sombrero lower over yourface, Threewit. And keep your hands out of the light as much as you can.They're too white for this section of the country."
"What if some one talks to me? I can't put over their lingo."
"Just grunt. I'll do what talking is necessary. All right. We'll maketracks, boys."
They stepped outside. Yeager relocked the door and drove the staple backinto the wood with the end of his rifle by steady pressure and not byblows.
Steve led them through the bear grass into the pasture and across it tothe river-bank. Here, under the heavy shadows of the overhangingcottonwoods, he outlined his plans.
Threewit spoke aloud his fears. "But, good Lord! what chance have wegot? It's a cinch we can't put four more guards out of business withoutbeing seen. And if we are caught--" His voice failed him.
The cowpuncher looked at him, and then at Farrar. The camera man waspale, but his eyes met those of his friend steadily. Steve judged hewould do to tie to, that his nerve would pull him through. But thedirector was plainly shaken with fears. He was not a coward, but theprivations and anxieties of the past ten days had got on his nerves. Hislips twitched and his fat hand trembled. His life had fallen in too softand easy places for this sort of thing.
The cowboy reassured him gently, even as he rearranged his plans on thespot. "We're going to pull it off, but as you say there is a chance wewon't make it. I'm going to leave you in the corral with the horses. IfFrank and I should slip up and get caught you'll still have a chance toget away."
"I'm going through with it just the same as you boys," insisted thedirector shakily.
"You're going to do as I say, Threewit. I'm elected boss of this rodeo.One of us has got to stay by the horses to make sure they're ready whenwe need 'em. That's going to be you. You're to sit right steady on thejob till we come. If you hear shooting,--and if we don't show up in areasonable time after that,--light out and save your hide. Keep thatstar--see, the bright one close down to the horizon--keep it right infront of you all night. By daybreak you ought to be across the line."
"I'm not going to ride away and leave you boys and Ruth here. What doyou take me for?" demanded Threewit huskily.
Steve put a hand on the shoulder of the little man. "You're all right,Billie," he said, with the affectionate smile that men as well as womenloved. "We all know you'll do to take along any time when we need a manthat's on the level. You wait there at the corral. If we show up, good.If we don't--well, we'll be beyond help. There'll be nothing left foryou to do
but burn the wind."
Frank swallowed hard. "What Steve says goes with me, Billie."
"Good." Yeager turned briskly to the business in hand. "We might as wellbe on our way, boys. There's no hurry, because I want Pasquale andCulvera to get settled at their game. But I reckon we'll drift alongeasy like."
They waded the river, which at its deepest did not reach to theircalves, and scrambled up the opposite bank to a bench of shale. Yeager,after a short search, found hidden under the foliage of a prickly pearthe rope he had left there some hours earlier. They were in a largefenced pasture where were kept the horses of the officers. At one endcould be seen dimly the outline of a little corral.
"You boys head across that way and wait for me. The remuda is at theother end of the pasture under the care of a boy," explained thecowpuncher.
"Hadn't I better go along with you in case of trouble?" asked Farrar.
"There isn't going to be any trouble. I'm getting the horses forPasquale. See?"
After the others had left him, Steve lit a cigarette and sauntered tothe far end of the field. Presently he gave a call that brought ananswer. The horses were grazing in a loose herd that covered perhaps athird of an acre. From behind them emerged a youth on horseback.
"I want four horses in a hurry," announced the range-rider.
"What for?"
"Never mind what for, compadre. I didn't ask old Gabriel what for whenhe sent me," grumbled the messenger.
"Why didn't you say for Pasquale?" The young man was preparing his ropeswiftly and efficiently. "Did the general say what horses?"
"He named the roan with the white stockings and the white-nosedbuckskin."
"Then he's going to travel fast and far. Why, in the devil's name, sincehe is going to be married in the morning?"
"Why does the general always do what isn't expected? The saints know. Idon't," growled Steve.
Both of them were expert ropers. In five minutes the American wasswallowed in the darkness. He was astride the bare back of the buckskinand was leading the other ponies. As soon as he knew he was safely outof sight and hearing, he deflected toward the corral.
His friends were waiting for him anxiously. Steve dropped lightly to theground.
"Hold the horses a minute, Frank," he said.
Striding to a feed-stall filled with alfalfa, he tossed the hay asideand dragged to the light a saddle. Presently he uncovered a second, athird, and a fourth.
"Brought them here last night--stole them from the storehouse," heexplained casually.
"You didn't overlook any bets--thought of everything, even tosaddle-blankets and water-bags already full," contributed Farrar,digging up these supplies from the alfalfa.
Steve cinched the saddles himself, though Farrar was a fair horseman. Ifit came to a pinch the turning of a saddle might spoil everything, andso far as he could the range-rider was forestalling any accidents thatmight be due to carelessness.
"How long am I to wait for you?" asked Threewit.
"We'd ought to be back inside of an hour and a half--if luck's with us.But we may be delayed by some one hanging around. Give us two hours oreven two and a half--unless hell begins to pop." Steve looked at hiswatch in the moonlight. "Say till twelve o'clock. Of course, when yougo, you'll leave the other horses here on the chance that we come later.You'd better ride that round-bellied bay."
"Am I to follow the star right up the hill?"
"No. Better take the draw. The sentinels will be on the hill. Likelythey'll see you and shoot at you. But don't stop, even if they'reclose. Keep a-going. They can't hit a barn door."
"Neither can I," lamented the director.
"Then you'll all be safe." Yeager turned to Farrar. "Come on, Frank."
The two crossed the pasture to the river and waded through the shallowstream to the other side. They remained in the shadows of the bank,following the bend of the river as it circled the village. Through thecottonwoods they crept toward the rear of the two-story house wherePasquale lived and Ruth was held prisoner.
From a sandy spot at the foot of a cotton wood tree Yeager dug a ropeladder.
"Been making it while I was night-herding the remuda," he told Farrar inanswer to a surprised question.
"Beats me you didn't make an auto for us to get away in," answered hisadmiring friend with a grin.
"Wait here," whispered Steve. "I'm going forward to look the groundover. Keep your eyes open in case I give a signal."
The range-rider snaked his way toward the house, moving so slowly andnoiselessly that Farrar lost sight of him entirely and began to wonderwhere he had gone. It must have been nearly twenty minutes later that hecaught a glimpse of him without his rifle. Yeager was engaged inconfidential talk with a guard in uniform. Frank saw the bottle passfrom his friend to the Mexican, who took a pull at it. A second guardjoined the two presently. He also took a drink.
The three disappeared together into the shadowy darkness of the housewall. Farrar was wondering what had happened when a single figureemerged into the moonlight and made a signal for him to come forward.
Yeager did not wait for him, but climbed up the post of the back porchas he had done once before. The camera man was on hand by the time Stevereached the roof. He looked up silently while his friend reached acrossand rapped on the window of a lighted room. The sash was raised verygently.
Ruth leaned out. "Is it you, Steve?" Her voice was tremulous andtearful. It was a safe guess she had been sobbing her misery into apillow.
"Yes."
He caught hold of the edge of the window and swung across, workinghimself up and in by sheer power of muscle. Rapidly he fastened the endof the rope ladder to the head of the bed, which he first half liftedand half dragged to the window. The rest of the ladder he threw out.
"Ready, Ruth?" he asked, turning to her.
She nodded. He was offering his arm to help her through the window whena frightened call came from below.
"Steve!"
He looked down. A Mexican trooper, one of those set to guard the frontof the house, was approaching. A glance was enough to show that he knewsomething to be wrong. His startled eyes passed from Farrar to the ropeladder. They followed it from the ground to the window. He stopped,almost under the window. The camera man, taken aback, did not know whatto do. Was he to run the risk of a shot? Even while he hesitated the manin uniform reached for a revolver.
Yeager knew what to do, and he did it promptly. Sweeping Ruth back fromthe window, he clambered through himself and poised his body for theleap. The sentry looked up again, saw what was about to happen, and letout a startled scream at the same instant that he flung up an arm andfired. Steve felt a sharp sting in his leg as he descended through theair. He landed astride on the shoulders of the Mexican. The man went toearth, hammered down so hard that the breath was driven from his body.
The arm of the range-rider rose and fell once. In his hand was the bluebarrel of a revolver. The corrugated butt of the .45 had crashed intothe thick matted hair of the Mexican. But it had done its work. Yeagerrose quickly. The soldier lay still.
Already Ruth was coming down the swaying ladder. She dropped the lastfew rounds with a rush, plump into the arms of Steve.
"Let us hurry--hurry," she cried.
It was time to be gone, if not too late. Already men were convergingupon them from different sides. Others were bawling orders for soldiersto turn out.
Steve went down almost as quickly as he had risen. His leg had given wayunexpectedly.
Before he reached his feet again his revolver was out and doingbusiness.
"Fire at their legs, Frank. All we want to do is to stop them. Ruth, yourun ahead, straight for the trees. We'll be with you in a minute,"Yeager gave orders quietly.
The girl flashed one look at him, found assurance in his strong, leanface, and obeyed without a word.
Farrar's rifle was already scattering bullets rather wildly into thenight. Lead spattered against the adobe wall behind them. But theattackers were checked. Their
fire was of a desultory character. Therewas such a thing as being too impetuous. Who were these men they wereassailing? Perhaps they were acting under orders of Pasquale. Betternot be too rash. So the mind of the peon soldiers decided.
As soon as Ruth had reached the shelter of the grove her friends movedto join her. They were halfway across the open when the cowpuncherplunged to the ground again.
The camera man turned and ran back to him. "What is it, Steve? Have theyhit you?" he asked anxiously.
"Plugged a pill into my laig as I took the elevator down from the secondstory. Gimme a hand up."
Frank put an arm around his waist as a support and they reached coverjust as the leg failed for a third time. Yeager crawled forward a fewyards on his knees into the underbrush.
Soft arms slid around his neck and shoulder as someone plumped downbeside him.
"You're wounded. You've been shot," Ruth breathed tremulously.
"Yes," assented Yeager. "Hand me your rifle, Frank."
They exchanged weapons. Steve had already made up his mind exactly whatwas best to do.
"I'm going to stay here awhile and hold them back. You go on with Ruth,Frank. Leave a horse for me. I'll be along later," he explained.
"We're not going away to leave you here," protested Ruth indignantly.
His voice was so matter of fact and his manner so competent that she hadalready drawn back, half ashamed, from the caressing support to whichher feelings had driven her.
He turned on her eyes cool and steely. "You're going to do as I say,girl. You're wasting time for all of us every moment you stay. Take her,Frank."
Farrar spoke in a low voice of troubled doubt. "But what are you goingto do, Steve? We can't leave you here."
The bullets of the Mexicans were searching the grove for them. Anymoment one might find a mark.
The range-rider made a gesture of angry impatience. "You obey ordersfine, don't you?" His face flashed sudden anger. "Get out. I know myplans, don't I? Pull your freight. Vamos!"
"And you'll be along later, will you?"
"Of course I will. I've got it all arranged. Hurry, or it will be toolate."
Ruth half guessed his purpose. She began to sob, but let herself behurried away by Farrar.
"He's going to stay there. He's not coming at all," she wailed as sheran.
"Sho! Of course he's coming. You know Steve, don't you? He's always gotsomething good up his sleeve."
But though her friend reassured her, he could not still his own fears.Something in him cried out against the desertion of a wounded ally, onewho had risked his life to save them all. Still, there was the girl tobe considered. If Yeager wanted to give his life for hers he had theright. Many a good man of the Southwest would have done what Steve wasdoing, given the same circumstances. It was up to him, Farrar, to backhis friend's play and see it through.
Yeager crawled on his hands and knees into a mesquite thicket from whichhe could command a view of the open space back of Pasquale's house. Hebroke carefully half a dozen twigs that interfered with the free play ofhis rifle. Then he placed his revolver beside him ready for action.After which he waited, tense and watchful.
Mexicans were swarming about the back of the house. One climbed the ropeladder, looked in the window, and explained with much gesturing to thosebelow that the room was empty. Random shots were thrown toward the riverand into the grove. But nobody headed the pursuit. They were waiting fora leader.
Then Pasquale burst furiously into sight around the house. Culvera,Ochampa, and Holcomb followed him. The general flung himself into anexcited group, tossing to right and left those who were in his way. Hesnapped out questions, gave orders, and stamped over the ground like amadman.
Called by Culvera, he strode forward to one of the drugged guards. In animpotent fury he shook the man, trying to waken him from his sleep;then, raging at his failure, he flung the helpless body against the walland turned on his heel.
Order began to evolve out of the mob. Pasquale himself organized thepursuit. He spread the line out so that as it advanced it would sweepthe whole space to the river. There was no longer any wild firing. Menbrought from the stables eight or ten horses for the officers.
As the line moved forward, Yeager thought it time to let the enemy knowwhere he was. He drew a bead on the general, moved his rifle slightly tothe left, and fired. Pasquale drew his sword and waved it.
"Take the girl alive. Shoot down the traitor dogs with her," he criedsavagely. "One hundred pesos to the man who kills either of them orcaptures her."
Steve answered this by firing twice, once with his revolver and almostimmediately afterward with his rifle. Ochampa sat down suddenly. He hadbeen hit in the leg.