Border Boys Across the Frontier

  CHAPTER XIX.

  BUCK BRADLEY'S AUTOMOBILE.

  How their escape had been discovered so soon, was, had there been timefor it, a matter of speculation. There was little doubt, though, thatsome of the searchers, returning unexpectedly, had come across thebound mestizos, and had at once given the alarm.

  Coyote Pete glanced about him, as if looking for some means of escape.The turn of the road that they hoped to make was still some distanceahead, but the road itself lay stretched, like a white, dusty ribbon,just before them. In the darkness, it showed clearly, and, as his eyesfell upon it, Coyote Pete's mind was made up.

  "Take to the road," he cried, "there's a gulch just a little way upahead of us."

  In fact, the plainsman's watchful eye had detected, a short distanceahead, a black void in the surface of the hillside, which he guessed tobe a deep arroyo.

  Their horses' hoofs clattered in an unpleasantly loud manner, as theyreached the hard highway, and began to hammer down it, still bearingdue east. Behind them now they could hear distinctly the yells andshouts of the pursuers. They were still some distance off, however.

  "Let 'em howl," remarked Coyote Pete. "The lung exercise is allthey'll git. With this start, we ought to beat them out easy."

  "Look! Look!" cried Ralph, suddenly pointing ahead. "What's that?"

  They all saw it at the same moment--two big lights, like eyes.Seemingly, the astonishing apparition was coming toward them at a goodspeed. The shafts of light cast forward cut the darkness like fieryswords.

  The fugitives paused, bewildered. What did this new circumstancebetoken?

  "What do you make her out to be, Pete?" asked Jack.

  "Why, boy, if it warn't thet we're down in such a benighted part ofther country, I should say that yonder was a gasoline gig."

  "An automobile!" exclaimed Walt. "It does look like one, for a fact."

  "And, to my way of thinking, a naughtymobile is jes' about the ticketfer us, right now," grunted Pete. "Hark!"

  There was no doubt now that the two shimmering bright lights ahead werethe head lanterns of an auto. They could hear the sharp cough of herengines, as she took the hill.

  "She's a powerful one, too," commented Ralph, listening. The Easternlad knew a good deal about motor cars. His face bore an interestedexpression.

  "I don't know who'd own one of them things down here but an American,"went on Pete, as if he had been in a reverie all this time, "and if itis a Yankee, it means that maybe we are out of our difficulties."

  "Well, what shall we do?" demanded Jack. "Meet it, or take to thewoods?"

  As he spoke, from far behind them came the sound of shots and shouts.That settled it.

  "We'll take a chance, and meet them," declared Pete, riding forward.

  Followed by the others, he deployed across the road, and an instantlater the bright glare of the car's headlights enveloped them. Fromthe vehicle, there came a sharp hail as the driver ground down thebrakes.

  "Say, you fellows, can you direct us to the camp?"

  "They're nothing but a bunch of greasers," came another voice frombehind the lights; "drive ahead, Jim."

  "Hold on thar, Buck," hailed Coyote Pete. "I'd like ter hev a wordwith you."

  "Say, are you chaps Americans?" demanded an astonished voice.

  "Reckon so," hailed back Pete dryly, "that's what my ma said. Who airyou, anyhow?"

  "I am Big Buck Bradley, manager, owner and sole proprietor of BuckBradley's Unparalleled Monst-er-ous and Unsurpassed Wild West Show andCongress of Cowboys," came back the answer. "Who are you?"

  "Well, I reckon jes' at present we're in danger of being made a WildWest Show of, ourselves," drawled Pete. "But are you really BuckBradley himself?"

  "I was, at dinner-time," was the response.

  "Hoorah!" yelled Pete. "It ain't possible, is it, Buck, thet you'veforgot Mister Peter de Peyster?"

  "What, Coyote Pete?"

  "That's me!"

  "Waal, you thundering old coyote, what air you doin' here?"

  "Gittin' chased by a bunch of the toughest insurrectos you ever clappedeyes on, and it's up ter you ter help us out," responded Pete. Helooked back, and motioned to the others, who had listened inastonishment to this dialogue. "Come on, boys, and git interduced;there ain't much time fer ettiquette."

  "Yee-ow-w-w-w-w!" came a yell behind them.

  "What's that?" exclaimed Buck, who, as the boys could now see, was abig, red-faced chap, clad in a linen auto-duster, combined with whichhis sombrero, with its beaded band, looked odd.

  "Why, that's an invitation ter us ter stop," rejoined Pete.

  Rapidly he explained the case, and Buck began to roar and bellowangrily, as was his wont.

  "Waal, what d'yer think uv that? The derned greasers! And I was on myway ter give 'em some free tickets. We show down in the villageto-night. Help you out? Surest thing you know. Turn them broncsloose, and you and yer friends pile in. Tell me ther rest as we goalong."

  The party of adventurers, as may be imagined, lost no time in acceptingthe Wild West Show man's hearty invitation, the professor being helpedinto the tonneau by Coyote Pete, who lifted the bony scientist as if hewere nothing but a featherweight.

  "Back her up, and turn around, bo," Buck ordered his chauffeur. "I'mout in my guess if we've got much time to lose."

  Rapidly the car was turned, and was soon speeding in the direction theywished to go. The stolen insurrecto horses galloped off into thehills, snorting with terror, as the car began to move.

  "Say, Pete, what-cher bin doin'?" began Buck, as the vehicle gatheredway, "shootin' up ther town?"

  "No, siree! I'm a law-abidin' citizen now," came from Pete, "andactin' as chaperony to this yer party."

  "You seem ter hev chaperoned them inter a heap of trouble," observedBuck dryly, as the car gathered way.

  "'Tain't all my fault. Listen," rejoined Pete, and straightawaylaunched into a detailed account of their adventures.

  "Waal," observed Buck, at the conclusion, "you sure are the number onechop feller fer gettin' inter trouble, but you bet yer life I ain'ta-goin' ter fergit ther time yer stood up with me and held off a bunchof crazy cattle-thieves, down on the Rio Grande. So, gents, give yerorders, and Buck Bradley 'ull carry 'em out."

  But, alas! as the redoubtable owner of Buck Bradley's Unparalleled,etc., Wild West uttered these words, there came a sudden loud report.

  _Bang_!

  "Christopher! They're firing from ambush!" yelled Pete, jumping twofeet up from his seat in the tonneau.

  "Worse than that, consarn the luck!" growled Bradley, "thet rear tire'sbusted agin."

  "Can't you run on a flat wheel?" asked Ralph anxiously.

  "Not over these roads, son. We wouldn't last ten minutes. Hey you,chaffer! Get out an' fix it, willyer?"

  "I'll try, sir," said the man, bringing the bumping, jolting car to astop.

  "Try, sir?" echoed Buck indignantly. "Didn't you tell me, when I hiredyou, thet you was a first-class, A number one chaffer?"

  "Sure I did," was the indignant reply, as the driver knelt in the dustand began examining the tire carefully. "But you can't fix a puncturein a jiffy."

  "This one is a-goin' ter be fixed in a jiffy," rejoined Buck ominously,"or there'll be a punctured chaffer 'round here."

  As he spoke, the proprietor of the Wild West Show moved his great bulkin the forward seat, and produced a heavy-calibred revolver, thatglistened in the starlight.

  "Get busy!" he ordered.

  "Y-y-y-y-yes, sir," stuttered the chauffeur, who had been hired in SanAntonio, before the show crossed the border, and found itself in thecountry of the insurrectos.

  "Maybe I can give him a hand--I know something about cars," volunteeredRalph.

  "Then help him out, will yer son?" puffed the red-faced Buck Bradley."It's my private opinion," he went on, in a voice intended to beconfidential, but which was merely a subdued bellow, "that that chafferof mine couldn't chaff a chafin
g dish."

  Ralph took one of the oil headlights out of its socket, and, taking itto the back of the car, found the chauffeur scratching his head overthe tire.

  "What's the trouble?" asked Ralph.

  "Why, you see, sir," stammered the chauffeur, "I don't just exactlyknow. I think it's a puncture, but----"

  "Say, aren't you supposed to be a chauffeur?" inquired Ralphdisgustedly.

  "Waal, I run a taxicab onct," was the reply, in a low tone, however,"but that's all the chauffering I ever done. You see, I went broke inSan Antone, and----"

  "All right; all right," snapped Ralph impatiently. "Say, you people,you'd better get out of the car, while I tinker this up."

  "Is it a bad bust-up?" puffed Buck Bradley, clambering out. "I onlybought ther car a week ago, and I've spent more time under it than init, ever since."

  "It's not very bad--just a little blow-out," announced Ralph, who hadbeen examining the wheel. "Got a jack and an emergency kit?"

  "Sure!" snorted Buck Bradley. "Here, you excuse for a chaffer, gitther hospital outfit, and hurry up."

  "Please, sir, I--I forgot the emergency kit," stuttered the newchauffeur.

  "You forgot! Great Moses!" howled Buck. "Have you got the jack, then?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Get it, please," said Ralph, pulling off one of his gloves. The boyrapidly slashed it with his pocket-knife, while the others watched himinterestedly. In the meantime, the chauffeur had tremblingly "jackedup" the car.

  Binding his handkerchief about the puncture, and placing the leatherfrom his glove about that, Ralph rapidly wound some strips of raw-hidefrom Pete's pockets about the bandage. This done he proceeded to blowup the tire. To his great joy the extemporized "plug" held. The tireswelled and grew hard.

  "It won't last long, but it may hold long enough for us," said Ralph,as he let the car down again and handed the jack to the "chaffer."

  As the man took and replaced it at the back of the car, Buck Bradleyregarded him with extreme disfavor. Then he turned to Ralph.

  "Say, sonny," he said, "did you say you could run a car?"

  "Yes."

  "This one?"

  "I think so."

  Bradley turned to his "chaffer."

  "Here, you!" he bellowed, "it's about two miles into town. Hoof it inthar an' when yer git ter camp tell Sam Stow to run ther showter-night. I'm off on important business, tell him."

  As the "chaffer" shuffled off, Buck Bradley began to hum:

  "I knew at dawn, when de rooster crowed, Dere wuz gwine ter be trouble on de Gran' Trunk Ro-ad!"

  "It's a good thing you got that done in jig-time, young feller," spokeBuck, as the job and his song were finished, and they scrambled backinto the car, "fer here they come."

  He pointed back up the starlit road.

  Not more than a few hundred yards off, several mounted figures cameinto view. At the same moment that the occupants of the car sightedthem, the pursuing insurrectos made out the automobile.

  Yelling at the top of their voices, they swept down upon it.

  "Let 'er out, and don't bother ter hit nuthin' but ther high places,"Buck admonished Ralph, who now held the wheel.