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Frank Merriwell Down South, a novel by Burt L. Standish |
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Chapter 9. The Professor's Escape |
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_ CHAPTER IX. THE PROFESSOR'S ESCAPE They did not expect to reach Huejugilla el Alto without being molested by bandits, for it was presumed that Pacheco's lieutenant would carry the word to his chief, and the desperadoes would lose no time in moving against them. Knowing their danger, they were exceedingly cautious, traveling much by night, and keeping in concealment by day, and, to their surprise, the bandits made no descent upon them. Huejugilla el Alto proved to be a wild and picturesque place. Being far from the line of railroad, it had not even felt the touch of Northern civilization, and the boys felt as if they had been transported back to the seventeenth century. "Hyar, lads," said Bushnell, "yer will see a town thet's clean Greaser all ther way through, an' it's ten ter one thar ain't nary galoot besides ourselves in ther durned old place thet kin say a word of United States." The Westerner could talk Spanish after a fashion, and that was about all the natives of Huejugilla el Alto were able to do, with the exception of the few whose blood was untainted, and who claimed to be aristocrats. However, for all of their strange dialect and his imperfect Spanish, Bushnell succeeded in making himself understood, so they found lodgings at a low, rambling adobe building, which served as a hotel. They paid in advance for one day, and were well satisfied with the price, although Bushnell declared it was at least double ordinary rates. "We ain't likely ter be long in town before Ferez locates us an' comes arter his hawses. Ther derned bandits are bold enough 'long ther line of ther railroad, but they lay 'way over thet out hyar. Wuss then all, ther people of ther towns kinder stand in with ther pizen varmints." "Stand in with them--how?" "Why, hide 'em when ther soldiers is arter 'em, an' don't bother 'em at any other time." "I presume they are afraid of the bandits, which explains why they do so." "Afeared? Wa'al, I'll allow as how they may be; but then thar's something of ther bandit in ev'ry blamed Greaser I ever clapped peepers on. They're onery, they are." Frank had noted that almost all Westerners who mingled much with the people of Mexico held Spaniards and natives alike in contempt, calling them all "Greasers." He could not understand this, for, as he had observed, the people of the country were exceedingly polite and chivalrous, treating strangers with the utmost courtesy, if courtesy were given in return. Rudeness seemed to shock and wound them, causing them to draw within themselves, as a turtle draws into its shell. Indeed, so polite were the people that Frank came to believe that a bandit who had decided to cut a man's throat and rob him would first beg a man's pardon for such rudeness, and then proceed about the job with the greatest skill, suavity, and gentleness. Having settled at the hotel, Bushnell ordered a square meal, and, when it was served, they proceeded to satisfy the hunger which had grown upon them with their journey across the desert. Bushnell also took care to look after the horses and equipments himself. "Ef Ferez calls fer his hawses, I don't want him ter git away with this yar balloon an' gas generator," said the Westerner, as he saw the articles mentioned were placed under lock and key. "Ef we should lose them, it'd be all up with us so fur as gittin' ter ther Silver Palace is concerned." Frank expected to hear something from Pacheco as soon as Huejugilla el Alto was reached, but he found no message awaiting him. "Poor professor!" he said. "I expect he has suffered untold torments since he was kidnaped." "Yah," nodded Hans. "Uf Brofessor Scotch don'd peen britty sick uf dis vild life mit Mexico, you vos a liar." That night they were sitting outside the hotel when they heard a great commotion at the southern end of the town. "Vot vos dot?" gasped the Dutch boy, in alarm. "Sounds like dere vos drouple aroundt dot logality." "That's right," agreed Frank, feeling for his revolvers; "and it is coming this way as fast as it can." "Mebbe another revolution has broke out," observed Bushnell, lazily. "Best git under kiver, an' let ther circus go by." They could hear the clatter of horses' hoofs, the cracking of pistols, and a mingling of wild cries. All at once Frank Merriwell became somewhat excited. "On my life, I believe I hear the voice of Professor Scotch!" he shouted. "Yah!" said Hans, "I belief I hear dot, too!" "They may be bringin' ther professor in," said Bushnell. "Ef he's thar, we'll take an interest in ther case, you bet yer boots!" Into the hotel he dashed, and, in a moment, he returned with his Winchester. Along the street came a horseman, clinging to the back of an unsaddled animal, closely pursued by at least twenty wild riders, some of whom were shooting at the legs of the fleeing horse, while one was whirling a lasso to make a cast that must bring the animal to a sudden halt. "Ten to one, the fugitive is the professor!" shouted Frank, peering through the dusk. "Then, I reckon we'll hev ter chip in right hyar an' now," said Bushnell, calmly. He flung the Winchester to his shoulder, and a spout of fire streamed from the muzzle in an instant. The fellow who was whirling the lasso flung up his arm and plunged headlong from the horse's back to the dust of the street. "Professor! professor!" shouted Frank. "Stop--stop here!" "Can't do it," came back the reply. "The horse won't stop!" "Jump off--fall off--get off some way!" "All right! here goes!" In another moment Professor Scotch, for it really was that individual, flung himself from the back of the animal he had ridden, struck the ground, rolled over and over like a ball, and lay still within thirty feet of Frank, groaning dolefully. In the meantime, Al Bushnell was working his Winchester in a manner that was simply amazing, for a steady stream of fire seemed to pour from the muzzle of the weapon, and the cracking of the weapon echoed through the streets of Huejugilla el Alto like the rattling fire from a line of infantry. After that first shot Bushnell lowered the muzzle of his weapon, as, in most cases at short range, his motto was to "shoot low," for he well knew more lead could be wasted by shooting too high than in any other manner. In about three seconds he had thrown the pursuing bandits into the utmost confusion, for they had never before encountered such a reception in Huejugilla el Alto, and it was the last thing they had expected. With all possible haste, they reined about and took to flight, hearing the bullets whistling about them, or feeling their horses leap madly at the sting of lead or go plunging to the ground. The inhabitants of the town had fled into their houses before the rush of the bandits, so there was little danger that any of Bushnell's bullets would reach innocent persons. The confusion and rout of the bandits was brought about in a few seconds, and Bushnell was heard to mutter: "One white man is good fer a hundred onery Greasers any time! Ther derned skunks hain't got a blamed bit of sand!" Frank ran and lifted the fallen professor, flinging the man across his shoulder, and carrying him into the hotel. Hans followed with frantic haste, and Bushnell came sauntering lazily in after the bandits had been routed and driven back. "Are you badly hurt, professor?" asked Frank, anxiously. "I'm killed!" groaned Scotch, dolefully. "I'm shot full of holes, and every bone in my body is broken! Farewell, my boy! We'll meet in a better land, where there are no bandits to molest or make afraid." "Where are you shot?" "Everywhere--all over! You can't touch me where I'm not shot! They fired more than four hundred bullets through me! I am so full of holes that I wonder you can see me at all!" Bushnell made a hasty examination of the professor, who lay on the floor, groaning faintly, his eyes closed. "Look hyar, pard," said the Westerner, roughly, "ef you want ter pass in yer chips ye'll hev ter stand up an' let me put a few more holes in yer. I can't find a place whar you're touched by a bullet an' I'm blowed ef I 'low you broke a bone when ye tumbled from ther hawse." The professor sat up with a sudden snap. "What's that?" he cried. "I'm not shot? I'm not all broke up? Is it possible? Can I believe you?" "Yah," nodded Hans, gravely; "I can belief me. You vas all righdt brofessor, und dot is sdraight." "Wow!" shouted Scotch, bounding to his feet like a rubber ball. "That's what I call great luck! Why, I thought I must be killed sure! I don't know how I escaped all those bullets. And then the fall! Providence must have been with me." "Vell, I don'd know apoudt dot pefore you come der town in," said Hans; "but you vos alone mit yourself when we saw you, brofessor." The landlord of the hotel came bustling up in a perfect tumult of terror, wringing his hands and almost weeping. "Oh, senors!" he cried, in Spanish, "what have you done? You have ruined me! You stopped at my house, and you shoot the ladrones. Ah, senors, you know not what that means to me. Pacheco will come down on me--he will raid my house; I am a ruined man, and you are responsible for it. You must leave my house without delay! If you remain here, the whole town will rise against me! All the people will know this must make Pacheco very angry, and they will know he must take revenge on the place. They will be angry with me because I allow it. Carramba! How could I help it? I could do nothing. It came, and it was all over before I know what was doing. Senors, you must have pity on me--you must leave my house immeditely." Bushnell caught enough of this to translate it to the others. "Ther best thing we kin do is ter git out instanter," he said. "Ef we wait, ther outlaws will watch every road out of ther town, an' we'll hev trouble in gittin' away." "Then let's get away immediately," fluttered the professor. "If I fall into their hands again, I'm a dead man!" "Yes, we will get out immediately," decided Frank; "but we'll do it as secretly and silently as possible." Bushnell nodded his satisfaction, and, thirty minutes later, the party was ready to move. They left the hotel by a back way, and, guided by the landlord, made their way along dark and narrow streets, creeping cautiously through the town till the outskirts were reached. There Frank gave the landlord some money, and, after calling down blessings on their heads, he quickly slipped away and disappeared. "Now we'll hustle right along," said the Westerner. "We'll put a good long stretch between ourselves an' Huejugilla el Alto before mornin'. We're off, bound straight inter ther mountains----" "And straight for the Silver Palace," added Frank. _ |
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