CHAPTER V
ROSEMARY AND FLOYD
"Floyd, I don't like this a bit!"
"What's the matter, Rosemary?"
The young man driving the sturdy little sport model of a car broughtthe machine to a stop and glanced at the girl sitting beside him.There was a quizzical smile on his face, a good-natured smile, however.
"What don't you like, Rosemary?" he asked again, and there was not inhis tone any air of bored fault-finding such as seems to come naturalto some brothers in appealing from a decision of some sisters.
"I don't like the way this trail is shaping up, if you'll excuse myEnglish," answered Rosemary Boyd.
"Your English is perfectly excusable, Rosemary," retorted Floyd. "Infact I rather like it. It is much better than this _trail_, to befrank."
"Are you sure we have come the right road?"
"As sure as I can be of anything in this doggoned country, where theyhaven't enough sign posts. I took the turns they told me to take inthe last town we passed through, and all the land marks have run trueto form so far."
"But we're a good ways from Uncle Henry's ranch yet; aren't we, Floyd?"and there crept into the voice of Rosemary an anxious note.
"Well, maybe we are, but what do we care for a few hundred miles?"
He laughed merrily, showing a set of white, even teeth, and his jollitywas so catching that his sister had to join in.
"Well, I suppose it really doesn't make much difference," she said."We're out for a lark and we've had it, so far. Only I don't seem tofancy sleeping out in the open again to-night. We were lost yesterday,you remember, and didn't make the town we expected to."
Floyd seemed to be waiting for something.
"Well?" he suggested. "Why don't you add that it was all my fault."
"I was going to leave that out," Rosemary said.
"But I'll admit it," acknowledged her brother. "I did pull a bloomer,as an Englishman would say, and I don't intend to do it again to-day.I admit I shouldn't have tried to do more than a day's trip yesterday.If I had taken your advice and stayed in the town where there was atleast an apology for a hotel, you'd have had a better night's sleep."
"Well, I didn't mind being out in the open so much, after I got used tothe howling of those wolves," Rosemary remarked.
"Coyotes--coyotes--not wolves, though they're off the same piece ofgoods," corrected Floyd.
"Well, never mind the lesson in natural history," laughed Rosemary."The point at issue is that I don't like the sort of country we'regetting into. It doesn't look to me as though this could ever lead usto Uncle Henry's ranch, and I'm anxious to get there. Bud's motherwrote that he and his cousins, Nort and Dick, had such exciting times,that I'm anxious to join them."
"So'm I," said Floyd. "And we'll get there."
"Not on this trail!" declared his sister, as her brother was about tostart the car. "You're getting into a worse and wilder country all thewhile. I think we should have taken the left turn a ways back."
"The cow puncher we asked told us to take the _right_ turn, and I did,"retorted Floyd.
"Cow puncher!" exclaimed his sister scornfully, "He looked more like arenegade Mexican than a real American cowboy. And his accent wasSpanish, too."
"Oh, well, lots of good American cowboys came from Mexican or Spanishpeople, and speak both languages," asserted Floyd. "Don't hold thatagainst him."
"I don't," said Rosemary. "But I will hold it against him if he hasput us on the wrong trail, and I'm beginning to believe that's what hedid. And maybe purposely, Floyd."
"Purposely? What do you mean?"
"Well, you know what we were told when we started out to make thistrip--that we had better take the most civilized and best traveledtrails, as the Yaquis were reported to be on the verge of making anoutbreak."
"Yes, and for that reason I kept well away from the border. But wearen't anywhere near the Yaquis country now."
"Aren't we?" asked Rosemary, with a strange quietness in her voice.
"No, of course not!" snapped Floyd. It was the first time, sincebrother and sister had started from California, to make a somewhatadventurous trip to their uncle's ranch that they had been near a"break" in their cordial relations. "The Yaquis are five hundred milesfrom here."
"I hope so, I surely do hope so!" murmured Rosemary, in such ferventtones that her brother felt an uneasy sense of fear creeping into hisheart. For the first time he began to realize that perhaps they haddone a foolhardy thing in making this trip alone. He slipped his handinto his pocket, making sure that his gun was in readiness. And it didnot relieve his anxiety to note that Rosemary did the same.
Brother and sister were of the west. They were brave and bold and notafraid of danger when they had half a chance to meet it face to face.But they had heard much of the treacherous and mean nature of theYaquis Indians. These were not like the early American tribes ofredmen, who had something of a code of honor in their warfare, crueland heartless as it seemed at times.
"Well, do you want to go back?" asked Floyd, as he slowly started thecar.
Rosemary considered for a moment.
"Let's look at the map and go over what we were told along the route,"she suggested.
Then followed a careful scanning of papers and drawings, with theresult that Rosemary said:
"I guess we may as well go on. It's a long way back to the nearesttown, and this map does seem to indicate that we are heading for LaNogalique."
"That's what I say!" chimed in Floyd. "I only hope La Nogalique isbetter than it sounds. If we can put up there for the night you'll geta little rest, and maybe I'll have this carburetor adjusted. I don'tlike the way it's acting."
"Oh, good, sweet, kind carburetor, don't go back on us now!" imploredRosemary, kissing her hand toward the engine of the car. "Be nice andI'll sprinkle you with violet talcum powder when we get to UncleHenry's!"
"Don't be silly!" grunted Floyd.
"Let's go!" called his sister. "It's getting late, and according tothis map it's ten miles yet to La Nogalique--which means twenty if weare going by past performances."
The car sped forward, the trail seeming to grow worse instead ofbetter, as might be expected if they were approaching a town. Lurchingfrom side to side, making sharp turns to avoid bowlders and holes,Floyd guided the machine. Now and then Rosemary would glance at herbrother, after a particularly vicious jolt, but she said nothing.
"A good sport!" Floyd mentally voted his sister.
They topped a steep rise, and as they started down the other slope,making a turn, Rosemary pointed ahead and exclaimed:
"There! Now we're all right! La Nogalique!"
Nestling in a small valley was a smaller town, its few buildingsshowing plainly in the last rays of the sun which would soon set behindthe mountains and hills.
"Guess we're not so badly off after all!" exulted Floyd. "We'll sleepin real beds tonight!"
"And I take back what I--er--_thought_ about you!" laughed his sister.
"Thanks for not _saying_ it!" chuckled Floyd. "I admit I was guessingmyself a while back, for that trail looked as though it was headingstraight for no place in particular. But we're all right now."
However, as they descended the slope, approaching the town, it became aquestion in both the mind of sister and brother as to whether they wereall right. When they came near enough to see and hear plainly itbecame evident that something unusual was going on in La Nogalique, ifsuch was the village in view.
There was the popping of guns and intermittant shouts, while figurescould be seen riding wildly to and fro amid the scattered buildings.
"Guess there's some sort of a celebration," commented Floyd.
"Probably some Mexicans have come over the border, and are celebratinga feast day," observed his sister. "This must be about the border linebetween the United States and Mexico."
"I reckon," conceded Floyd. "But say, I don't just like this! Look,those men are shooting at each other!"
He stopped the car and pointed to two groups of horsemen who,undoubtedly, were firing at each other with evil intent. For asRosemary and Floyd looked, several men toppled from their saddles, andtheir steeds rushed wildly to and fro.
Then, as the travelers sat in the machine, looking down the last slopethat led to the town, a solitary horseman came clattering up the rockytrail.
"Turn back! Turn back!" he shouted. "Don't go down there!"
He was attired as a cowboy and spoke good United States.
"What's the matter?" demanded Floyd, as he let the car roll to one sideto give the horseman room to pass.
"Yaquis!" was the answer. "Them onery Mexican Indians have broke looseand are raiding the country. They've started in here at La Nogalique!I'm riding for the troops. Better turn back!"
"Oh, Floyd!" cried Rosemary, involuntarily.
"Don't go down there!" warned the horseman, as he spurred on, for hesaw the car slipping down the slope.
"I don't intend to, if I can turn around and beat it up the hill,"Floyd said. "The question is--can I?"
It was a question. The road was narrow, and the hill steep. If youhave ever tried to turn a car around on a narrow, hilly road and crawlback up it, you will appreciate the position of Rosemary and herbrother.
"If you can't make it in your car get out and hide!" advised thehorseman, flinging this back over his shoulder as he rode on. "ThoseYaquis are human devils!"
He was out of sight a moment later around a turn in the trail. Floydspeeded up the engine and began to guide the machine toward a placethat looked wide enough to turn in. But that was the smallest part ofthe problem.
Just as he was making the turn there was a lurch to one side, and theright forward wheel sank into a ditch at the side of the road. The carsettled so far over that Rosemary had to cling to Floyd to avoidsliding out, and she could not repress a scream.
"No going back now!" exclaimed Floyd grimly. "We're lucky if we can goahead."
"Do something!" desperately cried Rosemary.
And then, with a suddenness that was nerve-racking, there swept aroundthe bend in the road toward them a band of yelling Mexican Indians--theYaquis!