CHAPTER XXI.
AN ACT OF TREACHERY.
He pointed inquiringly down the hillside at a young figure on horsebackthat was wearily climbing the declivity.
"He voss come a goot long vay, alretty," commented Geisler, taking inthe dust-covered appearance of horse and rider. The gray powder, whichcovered both, was visible even at that distance.
"He's an American," went on Mr. Merrill, "a young man, too. I don'trecollect ever having seen him before round here. Wonder what hewants?"
While he spoke, the rider came rapidly forward, and presently drew reinbeside the miner and his super. He was a young man, tall, wellmuscled, and with a well-poised head, but his eyes were set rather tooclose, and there was something about that clean-shaven chin that rathermade you distrust him.
"I've beaten those kids to it," he muttered to himself, as his eyesfirst took in the two solitary figures standing at the gate. "The restwill be easy."
Bob Harding, for it was the exiled West Pointer, could hardly helpsmiling, in fact, as he comprehended the simplicity of his task.
"Good morning," he said in a pleasant voice, as he rode up. "Is thisthe Esmeralda Mine?"
"It is," rejoined Mr. Merrill, "and I am its owner. Come in and restyourself, won't you? You look fagged."
It was the hearty, cordial greeting of one American in a strange landto a fellow countryman. Bob Harding accepted with alacrity. Heslipped from his saddle as if he were weary to death, and, indeed, histravel-stained clothes supported that idea. If the two men facing him,though, could have seen him scattering dust in liberal proportions overhimself and his horse a short time before, they might not have falleninto his trap so easily. With quirt and spur, he had worked his horseinto a sweat. At such tricks, Bob Harding was an adept.
But of all this, of course, neither Mr. Merrill nor his super had anyidea. To their unsuspecting minds, Bob Harding was a fellow-countrymanin difficulty, and they treated him accordingly.
"Phew!" remarked Harding, slipping his reins over his arm, andfollowing Mr. Merrill within the stockade, "I had a tough time gettingaway from those insurrectos."
The remark had just the effect he intended it should have. Mr. Merrillregarded him with astonishment. Geisler muttered gutturally.
"The insurrectos!" exclaimed Mr. Merrill. "Are they near at hand?"
"They were," rejoined Bob Harding, secretly rejoicing to see how wellhis plan was working, "but they are now in retreat. The governmenttroops met them near San Angelo, and drove them back to the west."
"I had no idea there were any government troops closer than Rosario."
"Nor had Madero's flying column, as he called it. But he found out afew hours ago. In the confusion I escaped and rode on here. I have amessage for you from your son."
"My son! Good Heavens! Is Jack in the hands----"
"He was a prisoner of Madero, but he has escaped, and is now lyingwounded at a spot I will guide you to."
"Himmel! Yack Merrill a prisoner, alretty!" gasped Herr Geisler.
"Not only Master Merrill, but two boy friends of his, an old gentleman,whom I should imagine was their instructor, and a cowboy."
"Yes, it must be them!" exclaimed Mr. Merrill. "But how, in the nameof all that's wonderful, did they come across the border? I thoughtthey were at the Haunted Mesa, in New Mexico."
"It is too long a story to relate to you now, senors," rejoined BobHarding, "I may tell you, though, that they are safe at the hacienda ofa friend. But your boy is seriously wounded, and must see you at once."
"Good Heavens, Geisler! This is terrible news, Mr.--Mr.----"
"Mr. Allen, of New York," put in Harding glibly.
"Terrible news that Mr. Allen of New York brings us. You were withthem, Mr. Allen?"
"I was, sir. In my capacity as war correspondent for the _Planet_, Iwas with Madero's column. But, in the moment of defeat at the hands ofthe regulars, the miserable greasers turned on me as a gringo. I wascompelled to flee for my life. First, however, I cut the bonds of ouryoung friends and their comrades, and under cover of night we escaped."
Bob Harding was certainly warming to his subject as he went along. Mr.Merrill regarded him with gratitude.
"I've a horse in the stables, Mr. Allen," he said. "I'll saddle up,right away, and accompany you. How can I ever thank you for all youhave done for my boy and his friends?"
"Don't mention it," said Allen glibly; "we Americans must do littlethings for one another, you know. But hurry, sir. Your boy wascalling for you when I left."
"Poor lad!" exclaimed the deluded mine owner, hastening toward thestable. "Geisler, you must stay and look after the place. How far isit, Mr. Allen?"
"Not more than ten miles, sir," was the rejoinder.
"I can ride there and back before dark, then," declared Mr. Merrill."If the lad is strong enough to be moved, I'll bring him with me."
All this time Geisler had been examining "Mr. Allen's" horse with asingular expression. As the miner owner vanished in the direction ofthe stable, he spoke:
"Dot poor horse of yours vos aboudt tuckered in, aindt it?" he inquired.
"Yes, poor brute," rejoined Bob Harding, "I rode at a furious pace."
"Und got all der dust on his chest, und none on his hind quvarters,"commented the German suspiciously.
But Harding returned his gaze frankly, and wiped his brow with a greatappearance of weariness.
"Is that so?" he said. "I didn't notice it. But then, I rode so hard,and----"
"Are you ready, Mr. Allen?"
It was Mr. Merrill's voice. He rode up, as he spoke, on a bigchestnut, which he had saddled and bridled faster than he had everequipped a horse before.
"All ready, sir," was the response, as Bob Harding swung himself intohis saddle again.
Geisler had run into the office. Now he reappeared, holding somethingunder his coat. He approached Mr. Merrill's side, and, while BobHarding was leaning over examining his saddle-girth, the German slippedthe object he held to his employer.
"Idt's a gun," he whispered. "Keep idt handy. Py chiminy, I dinkmaype you need him pefore you get through."
"With the insurrectos in retreat?" laughed Mr. Merrill. "Geisler, youare getting nervous in your old age. Come, Mr. Allen, let's be gettingforward, I can hardly wait till I see my boy."
The horses plunged forward and clattered down the hillside.
Geisler watched them till a bend in the road below hid them from view.Then he turned slowly to reenter the stockade.
"Py chiminy," he muttered, emitting huge clouds of blue smoke, "I dinkme dere vos a vood-pile in dot nigger, py cracious."