Frontier Boys on the Coast Part 27

"It has seemed to me," said the Spaniard, "that the seasoning of coffee is in a way an indication of character."

"Where the party uses milk in his coffee that indicates weakness, does it not, Senor?" inquired Jim with a sly look at Jo, but the subtle Spaniard was not to be trapped.

"Not necessarily," he replied, "only mildness."

"And when it is taken straight and black that means a strong character,"

remarked Jo.

"You have stated it," replied the Spaniard.

"But I would like to know how I would be sized up?" questioned Jim, "you see I use a little sugar."

"My friend," said the Spaniard with playful earnestness, putting his hand lightly on Jim's knee, "that shows a character of great strength, tempered with mercy and human kindness. All of which leads one to speak of a man who was once famous in this part of the country, but not popular. He always had the reputation for taking a strong liquor in his coffee, Fernet, if I remember right. His name was Alverado, but I judge that you are not acquainted with it."

"No," replied Jim, "but I should say that he was a very fierce character."

"He was. He was a bandit."

"I thought so," agreed Jim.

"This Don Alverado came from a well known Spanish family, of ancient lineage, but impoverished fortune. He was such a wild and unruly blade that his family were decidedly relieved when he left Spain and came to the new world to mend his fortune, if not his ways. He landed first in Mexico, and after a series of more or less remarkable adventures, he came to this part of California. I knew him, or rather I knew of his family in Spain, and for their sake I made him welcome here at my home.

"He was really a charming fellow in manner and appearance, tall, slight, with dark eyes and hair, a typical cavalier. But the graces of his manner did not reach down to his heart, and after a disagreeable episode which I need not revive here, he left my rancho never to return except as an enemy. I heard nothing further of him after his departure for some six months. My next introduction to him was an unpleasant one.

"It consisted in the loss of a band of horses and a herd of cattle which were driven off by a gang of raiders, thirteen in number, at the head of which was this fellow Alverado. His depredations went on for years among the ranchmen in this part of California. So resourceful and crafty was this desperado that he evaded trap after trap laid for his capture.

"He had several very close calls and there were numerous battles between the outlaws and the ranch owners, but though some of his men were shot, he seemed to bear a charmed life. I remember one running fight over the plain yonder, when, believing me to be absent from home, as I had been, but returned unexpectedly from the north, this Alverado and his gang made a bold dash to capture some horses from a field directly below the house.

"It did not take long to get my men together and I gave the bandits a surprise indeed. Nothing but the speed of Alverado's horse, a splendid black stallion, saved him from capture. We got several of his men however. At last there came the turning of the lane. Through the treachery of one of the band we found that their rendezvous was at the head of a small canyon in a range of foot-hills several miles south of here.

"You will go through it tomorrow on your way south, if you carry out your speed schedule, which with your remarkable horses you ought to be able to. We came upon the gang about noon, where they were resting after a long chase. In a corral near by were a number of stolen stock. They were not expecting trouble of any kind. Some were playing cards, a few cooking, most, however, were enjoying the siesta, their leader among the number lay under the shadow of a tree, his head resting on a saddle, sound asleep.

"There were fifty of us, and we had them surrounded, so that there was no chance of escape. Alverado himself made a desperate dash, but the cordon was too strong. The rest surrendered. That afternoon we took the bunch to the lower end of the canyon, where there was a giant sycamore tree. There we hanged the whole thirteen, and by them no more were troubled not even by their ghosts."

Jim and Jo expressed their appreciation of their host's kindness in entertaining them as he truly had done in relating his tales. Then they said good night and went to their room.

That night the boys slept in a comfortable bed in a quaint old bedroom with roses nodding in at the half open cas.e.m.e.nt windows. By the light of the candles they could see the strange old and carved furniture and tired as they were how they did sleep.

The next morning they started hours before daylight. "I will be prepared to welcome more of you in a few days," said the Senor Valdez, and the boys thanked him heartily. Promising to return soon they galloped away through the darkness.

All day they rode, hardly drawing rein at all. At first through the foot-hills and then over the wide plains. Jo had a fresh horse, a powerful black, as his other mount could not stand the strain of the long trip that meant three score and ten of miles before evening.

Early in the afternoon they left the plain and rode into the deep and rugged gorges of a mountain chain, running East and West. Thence into a broad valley leading South-easterly, and about four P. M. they turned directly South entering a Pa.s.s in the Southern side of the valley, from which they emerged on a plain. Where the trail left the Pa.s.s stood a large sycamore tree, when they reached it, the Indian messenger rose from its shelter.

CHAPTER XXIX

A WONDERFUL LEAP

Now without hesitation we must take up the fortunes or rather misfortunes of Tom and Juarez as they landed in the darkness upon the mysterious island, for our narrative presses to its conclusion. Never did they feel more hopeless than on this occasion, when they were going to a dubious and uncertain fate.

"You boys come with me," called the Captain gruffly.

"How about me, Cap'n?" asked Jeems Howell, the lanky shepherd.

"What's your business?" inquired Captain Broom briefly.

"Looking after the sheeps."

"Then attend to it," said the Captain grimly.

"Certainly, Cap'n," replied the shepherd, who was incapable of taking offense.

"You come, Jake," called the Captain, to one of the sailors, "and be quick about it, we haven't much time." Tom s.h.i.+vered, for in the gloom and tired as he was he felt that his time too was short.

Then with the Captain in the lead, carrying a lantern, which was m.u.f.fled in his great coat, they started, the sailor bringing up the rear.

"Look out sharp, that these lads don't spring something on you, Jake.

They are a bad lot."

"Aye, aye, sir," replied the sailor, "they'll have to be quick to get the jump on me, sir."

"It's the Injun one's the worst. Don't let him scalp you," warned the Captain jocosely.

"I'm no Indian," said Juarez, hoa.r.s.ely and utterly reckless of his fate, "I'm an American, and was proud of it, till I found you were one, you cursed yankee barnacle."

"Ho, ho, lad!" roared the Captain, "you won't talk so tall in a few minutes. Nothing like a slow fire for stewing the nonsense out of a fresh kid."

"How far is this cave of yours, you are taking us to, old salt horse?"

said Juarez insolently, and utterly unwise.

This was too much for Captain Broom, and with an imprecation he turned to strike Juarez. This was what Juarez was looking for and as the furious Skipper whirled facing him, Juarez dodged his huge fist, and sent a fierce hook to the Captain's jaw. There was anger, desperation and strength behind that blow and the Captain fell, striking his head on a rock. That time the Frontier Boys scored.

"Follow me, Tom," yelled Juarez, and he sprang away through the darkness. It seemed like a hopeless undertaking to make an escape with the sea on one side and the cliffs on the other, and a desperate enemy near at hand. But Juarez thought it was best to take a chance. Anything was better than captivity, that was seemingly just ahead of them.

One thing he was determined on and that was, that he would not be taken alive. He ran splas.h.i.+ng through the water, leaping rocks, with the two sailors in fast pursuit. Not far ahead to the right was the white dash of the breakers that shut off escape in that direction, to the left was the cliffs.

Then before him rose a steep but not precipitous rock that had been divided from the main cliff by the action of the water. Instantly Juarez abandoned his desperate plan of plunging into the sea, and without lessening his speed, he sprang up the rock, in his moccasined feet.

The sailor who was following most closely, got up ten feet when he slipped and rolled violently to the bottom, knocking down the one who came after. Once Juarez came near falling but he caught himself, and kept going up, driven by a desperation that seemed to carry him over every obstacle.

"We've got yer, ye little shrimp," exultantly cried the sailors at the base of the rock, "Ye can't get away unless you fly."

"Shoot the blasted little varmint," roared the Captain, who, still dizzy, had struggled to his feet. In obedience to the order a flash punctured the darkness and there was a roar like artillery echoing among the hollow cliffs. A slug of lead whistled past Juarez's head.

The boy had now reached the top of the rock and was at the crisis of his fate, a distance of ten feet separated him from the main cliff, not an impossible jump but the foothold was precarious and uncertain, and fifty feet or more below were the jagged rocks, and enemies equally as hard, but Juarez did not hesitate.