CHAPTER VIII.
BLACK RAMON'S MISSION.
As darkness fell they emerged from the gloomy shadows of the divideinto a country not unlike that on the American side of the range.Foot-hills covered with scanty growth, and here and there a clump ofscraggly cottonwoods intersected by deep gullies, and dry watercourses,were the chief features of the scenery. There was little conversationamong the prisoners as they rode along, nor indeed did their positionbear discussing. Pete's mind was busy with self-reproach, Jack's withtrying to devise some means of escape, Walt Phelps' with what hisfather would imagine had become of him, and Ralph's and the professor'swith real alarm.
"I am a man of considerable reading," muttered the professor gloomily,"yet our present position goes to show that all the book-learning inthe world is of no use to men in our position."
"No, I guess Coyote Pete, or Jack Merrill, or Walt Phelps could get usout of this a whole lot quicker than all the classical authors thatever classicked," said Ralph disgustedly.
"I have a fine library at home in the East," said the professorsuddenly, and with the air of a man in whose mind a great hope hadsprung up. "Do you imagine that this Black Ramon, or whatever his nameis, would consider taking that in exchange for our liberty?"
"I'm afraid not," moaned Ralph disconsolately. Yet he could not forbeara smile at the old man's simplicity.
"Library," grunted Pete, who had overheard the professor's remark;"the only kind of library he'd have any use for would be an edition deluxury of a complete issue of greenbacks, bound in calf and horse hide."
"Where can they be taking us?" wondered Jack, as hour after hourpassed, and the procession still wound on along the foot of themountains.
"I've no idea," rejoined Walt Phelps, "I've never been on this side ofthe range before."
"I was over here oncet," said Pete, "after some strays, but I don'trecollect this part of the country."
"How far have we come?" inquired Ralph, more for the sake of sayingsomething than anything else.
"Not more than ten miles, I guess," rejoined Jack; "at night, and amongthese foothills, distances are very deceptive."
"They ain't so deceptive by half as these greasers," growled Pete. "Ican't think of anything I'd rather be doing this instant than poundingthe stuffing out of that Jose."
"I can't think why father trusted him," exclaimed Jack.
"Why, that was natural enough," was Pete's rejoinder. "There didn'tlook to be a chance of his playing us false. If it hadn't been forthat fusillade behind us we'd never have lost him. As it is, if only Ihadn't lost my head and gone gallivanting off arter the critter, we'dhave been safe now."
"Always providing that nothing has happened to father and the others,"said Jack sadly.
"Yes. But cheer up, lad. Your father and Bud Wilson are two of the bestplainsmen I know. They wouldn't go blundering blindfold into no trap,you can bet."
"I hope not," rejoined Jack, "but that explosion sounded ominous to me.If the bridge is gone they may have gone with it."
"I don't think so," replied Pete. "Sounds travel a long distance in anarrow-walled pass like that, and the sound of a horse going over abridge can be heard a big ways off at any time. If they'd been on thebridge when the explosion occurred we'd have heard their hoofbeats,anyhow, before they touched off the stuff."
"Well, I'm not going to give up hope till I know," said Jack bravely,though at the moment, had he not known the uselessness of it, he couldhave given way entirely to his apprehensions.
Suddenly, on rising from a dark gully, they came full in view of a lowwhite building with a tower at one end. The rising moon tipped thestructure with silver and showed its every outline plainly, the blackshadows sharply contrasted to its white walls and tiled roof.
"The old San Gabriel Mission!" exclaimed Pete, as his eyes fell on thevenerable structure. "I thought I began to recognize the lay of thecountry a way back."
"You've been here before, then?" asked Ralph.
"Yep, after stray horses, as I said. I never knew, though, that BlackRamon and his gang hung out here."
"Well, they evidently do," rejoined Jack; "see, we are headed right forit."
They had begun to take a by-path which lay straight and white in frontof them toward the old mission door. As they drew nearer, they couldsee that in the turret were hung several bells, probably part of achime brought from Spain in the days when the mission was occupied byHoly Franciscans. It now appeared to be in half ruinous condition,however. Great cracks were in its walls, and several of the bell nicheswere empty. Here and there tiles had fallen from the roof, and the gapsshowed black in the moonlight.
"A splendid specimen of Mission architecture," exclaimed the professor,lifting his hand in admiration, as they drew closer. "Rarely have Iseen a finer, and in my younger days I spent some time exploring theSpanish remains in California."
"Well, I reckon it's going to be a splendid specimen of a jail for us,"grunted Pete, with a side-long glance at the professor, who had quiteforgotten his anxiety in his admiration of the old building.
Pete's words proved correct. A few minutes later the party--theprisoners carefully guarded in the center, drew up in front of themouldering door, and Black Ramon gave three raps with a rusty knocker.
"Who's there?" inquired a voice from within, in Spanish.
"The Black Kings of The Pass," rejoined Ramon in a loud tone.
The door creaked open and a squat figure stood revealed. But the dooropener was not a Mexican, but a white man, and no very favorablespecimen of his race, either.
"Jim Cummings!" gasped Coyote Pete, as his eyes fell on the other."Well, the dern renegade!"
There was no time to ask questions just then. With a few rough wordsthe prisoners were ordered to dismount, and were ushered under closeguard into what seemed to have been the main body of the missionchurch. It had a high-vaulted ceiling, and a few windows high up fromthe floor and closely barred. Otherwise, it was bare, except for somestraw thrown about as if for beds.
"You will stay here to-night," said Ramon, gruffly addressing theprisoners, "and in the morning we will talk."
Without another word he turned away, and the Border Boys and theircompanions heard the door close with a bang. Then came a metallicclang, which told that a heavy bar had been put in place outside.
"Bottled!" said Pete laconically, and with a calm that amazed Ralph.
"And corked!" added Walt.
Jack Merrill and Walt Phelps followed Pete's lead in taking thesituation calmly. As a matter of fact, it was the only thing to do, butsmall blame can attach to Ralph for sinking down despondently on someof the straw as he heard the bar clang as if proclaiming their doom.As for the professor, he was strolling about, poking the walls with aninquiring finger and gazing in rapt admiration at the blackened beamsof the roof above them.
"Well, there's one thing to be glad over," said Jack suddenly, "theyhaven't tied us."
"No need to," rejoined Pete. "We couldn't get out of here in a week,and---- Hark!"
They all listened intently. Outside they could hear the steadytramp-tramp of a man pacing up and down.
"A sentry!" exclaimed Walt Phelps.
"That's what. We're too valuable to Black Ramon for him to have us getaway."
There seemed to be some hidden meaning underlying the cow-puncher'swords, and the boys looked at him inquiringly.
"What I mean is," said the cow-puncher, "that this varmint sees achance to make some money out of us. He knows your father wouldgive a pile to get you back safe and sound, and I'll bet a bustedsweat-leather he's going to hold you for ransom."
"But you, Pete?"
"Wall, I reckon he'll make _chile-con-carne_ out of me," rejoined thecow-puncher with a grin. "I'm too tough for anything else."
A careful examination of the place, made as well as they could in themoon-checkered darkness, showed that Pete's diagnosis of their prisonas "a bottle" was a correct one. The walls were solid, and appeared,just judging by the depth of
the window embrasures, to be several feetthick. The windows themselves were far too high up to reach, even hadthey not been barred. The floor, after a careful tapping, yielded nosign of being hollow in any place.
"I was hoping we might find a hollow place somewhere," said Pete, inexplaining this last maneuver. "You know these old padres lived a scarykind of life, and every once in a while their Indian converts wouldup and backslide and attack the church mission. So as they could doa quick getaway when such contingencies came loping along, they usedto make tunnels, but I guess if these fellers that built this placetunneled they did it some other part."
"What you say is correct," chimed in the professor, more as if he wasin the lecture room than a prisoner across the border, in the hands offerocious cattle-rustlers; "the padre sometimes dug these tunnels sothat they covered considerable distances. Burrows of this character, amile or even more in length have been found in California."
"Wa'al, I wish we had the tools handy and we'd bore one ourselves,"said Pete; "but as we ain't, the best thing we can do is to makeourselves as comfortable as possible and go to sleep. Things won't getno better for fretting over them, and we're in a fix now where thingsis bound to get a lot worse before they get better."
The cow-puncher, suiting the action to the word, lay down, and in afew moments his snores proclaimed that he slept. One after the other,the rest dozed off, till only Ralph remained awake. Jack Merrill haddone his best to cheer the Eastern lad up before he sought refugein slumber, but Ralph's position weighed on his mind too keenly topermit him to sleep. While the others lay stretched out in slumberhe arose and began pacing the old church. He was not a superstitiouslad, but the silence of the empty vaulted place, their position, andthe uncertainty of their fate, all combined to fill him with a nervousdread.
Suddenly he stopped short in his pacing to and fro. Every nerve in hisbody tingled and his scalp tightened with alarm at a sudden sound hehad heard.
Proceeding, it seemed, from the very masonry of the edifice itself,there had come a sound, which heard as it was, in those gloomysurroundings, was as terrifying as could be imagined.
"Who is there?" shouted the boy in frightened tones.
But the sound which he had heard ceased instantly. Nor, though helistened almost till dawn crept into the sky, and sleep overcame him,was it repeated.