Frontier Boys on the Coast Part 2

It was terrible to hear her and it must have sent a s.h.i.+ver into the soul of the hardy skipper.

When she had finished, the woman moved past them and vanished in the direction of the ranch. For a full minute the line of men stood without moving a step and in absolute silence, Captain Broom with his arm upraised as he had lifted it to strike.

Then, without saying a word, he took the first forward step and the others followed him through the darkness.

"Say, Cales," growled Pete in a low voice, "what was it you found in that cave? My old timbers are shaking yet."

"Keep your old jaws shut," yelled the Captain, who had wonderfully keen hearing, when anything was spoken that concerned him.

"How do you suppose the old man heard me?" mumbled Pete to himself. He dropped back a pace or two, then whispered, "The old man must be crazy.

He is making direct for the Sebastian ranch."

"Do you reckon that these four boys he is looking after, are located there?" asked Jack.

"I dunno," replied Pete, "you can calkerlate on one thing though and that is that the skipper knows pretty nigh where those lads are. One of his messengers, a one-eyed, twisted greaser, came aboard the other day, and was gabbling in the Captain's cabin. Then the next thing I knew we was under sail, and came kiting down to the cove."

Just then the party halted at the confines of a four strand barbed wire fence. This was the first indication that they were entering the great ranch property that formerly belonged to the Senor Sebastian, the elderly man the Captain had made captive, and which was now the property of his only son.

"Now, lads," said the leader of the expedition, "Here's a chance to make yourself small. This yere barb is like a devil fish if it once gits a holt of your panties--it won't let go."

"That's so, Captain," said the mate, a generally silent and saturnine man.

"I reckon you know, mate," said the Captain. "The last time we was through these parts, and that some considerable years ago, this same fence got a holt of yer pants and wouldn't let go. I never heard you talk so much and so earnestly in my life before. You want to be more keerful this time."

The mate simply grunted by way of reply and, lying close to the ground, he very gingerly and carefully worked his way under the wire and thus escaped his mentioned former unpleasant detention. He then held the lower wire up as high as he could until his chief had wiggled under.

Pete was the only one of the party who was seriously detained, for Jack Cales had slid under as slick as an eel. But Pete's joints were old and rusty and the venomous wire got a clutch on his coat and his pants.

"What's keeping you back?" inquired the Captain, gruffly, as Cales and his comrade did not put in an immediate appearance.

"Pete has got caught, sir," said Jack.

"What are you doing there, you old barnacle?" inquired the Captain as he came back to the fence.

There was a certain odd comrades.h.i.+p between the skipper and the old salt who had been with him since his African days. Both were New Englanders and had come from neighboring homesteads.

"Just resting, sir," replied the captive.

It certainly did have something of that appearance, for Pete had kept a decisive grip on his old black pipe with his stubby teeth and was puffing at it in apparent peace and resignation.

"Want me to git you a piller?" inquired the skipper, sarcastically.

"Thank ye, sir," replied Pete imperturbably.

Meanwhile the mate had been at work with deft fingers and he finally succeeded in extricating the old man and putting him upon his pins.

"Now if ye are sufficiently rested," proposed the skipper, "we will hike along."

This they did. Their way now lay between two stretches of fence that enclosed a road not much traveled for there were only faint traces of wheels in the turf. It was probably not a public highway but belonged to the great ranch.

Everything seemed smooth sailing now, as there was no more barbed wire to be immediately met but Pete soon made himself prominent again. He was rolling along with that gait peculiar to a sailor when aboard land, when he gave a sudden spring and clutched Cales convulsively in the back, giving that individual a big scare.

"Dad burn it, boys. I've stepped on a rattler." An investigation was made very carefully and Captain Broom quickly picked up a short piece of rope.

"I'll rattle you," he cried, touching up the old man with the rope's end.

CHAPTER IV

PETE'S YARN

They went along steadily through the darkness in an almost directly easterly direction. Being now clear of the brush they could make good time on the springy turf.

"How far are we now from the ranch, Pete?" inquired Jack.

"Too durn close to suit me," replied Pete. "I can't tell exactly for these ranches are as big as all outside creation, but I guess we must be as close as a mile to the buildings."

"I reckon the Captain is going to walk up to the front door and ask for accommodations."

"Wouldn't s'prise me a bit, if he done that," replied Pete querulously.

"The old man ain't lacking in nerve. Back thar was the first time I ever seen him hang back in my long experience with him."

"When the old lady was speaking her piece? Suppose I ask him how much he made when he captured the Senor," suggested Cales, who had recovered his flippant humor.

"I wouldn't git gay, lad," said old Pete, warningly. "She is just as liable to haunt you in your black spells."

"Don't have 'em, uncle," replied Cales.

"You collect the material for 'em when you are young," said the old man wisely, "and they come out of your bones like rheumatiz when you git old."

"Somebody is coming back of us," suddenly whispered Cales.

"Take to cover, lads," ordered the skipper, who was as quick to hear as the younger man. The only cover was a high and thick growth of wild mustard growing alongside the fences.

Quickly they stepped from the open road into the shelter of the tall mustard. They had not long to wait. There was the jingle of spurs and the thud of horses' feet walking slowly along. Next came the voices of men talking.

"It is useless, Senor, to try and find her, I fear," replied one man to the other.

"It seems so," replied the other sadly. "My mother always seems to be worse when the time of the year approaches that my father disappeared.

In spite of all our care she will escape."

They had now arrived at a point opposite where the free-booters were hidden. The man who had last spoken struck a light and lit a cigarette; the instantaneous glare showed the dark handsome face of the Spanish type. There was the high-peaked sombrero, the striking clothes, the intent face and then the light died suddenly out.

"Ah, Manuel," said the young man to his companion, "if I could only once lay hands on that cursed Gringo," and he ground his teeth in fury, unable to express himself.

"Humph, Gringo," grunted the Captain, disdainfully.