Home > Authors Index > Burt L. Standish > Frank Merriwell Down South > This page
Frank Merriwell Down South, a novel by Burt L. Standish |
||
Chapter 10. The Stranger |
||
| < Previous |
Table of content |
Next > |
|
________________________________________________
_ CHAPTER X. THE STRANGER They were fortunate in getting away without being seen by any of the bandits, and at dawn they were well up into the mountains, where Bushnell found a secluded place for them to camp and rest, as rest was something of which they all sorely stood in need. Bushnell prepared breakfast, and Frank insisted that Professor Scotch should explain how he escaped from Pacheco's gang. "Don't ask me," sighed the little man, fondling his red whiskers. "I can't explain it--really I can't." "Why not?" "Well, you see, I don't know how I happened to do it. They forced me to write that letter against my will, two of them standing over me with drawn daggers while I was writing, and prodding me a bit whenever I refused to put down the words Pacheco ordered written." "Then Pacheco speaks English?" "As well as I do." "What does he look like?" "I don't know." "How is that?" "He kept his face concealed with his serape quite up to his eyes." "Thar's a mystery about Pacheco," broke in Bushnell. "No one seems ter know jest what ther varmint looks like." "Go on, professor," urged Frank; "tell us just how you escaped." "I tell you I do not know myself. All I know is that they tied me to a horse, and brought me across a plain of burning sand, where I nearly perished for want of water, and was nearly sawed in two by the backbone of the horse I rode. I believed it was a case of gone goose with me. At last they camped in a wild spot, and I was so badly used up that I could scarcely eat or do anything but lay around and groan. They seemed to think there was no need of watching me very closely, and I noticed that I was alone sometimes. Then, feeling utterly reckless, I began to watch for a chance to sneak away. I didn't care if I were shot, or if I escaped and perished from hunger and thirst. I was bound to make the attempt. Last night I made it. A saddleless horse strayed along where I was, and I made a jump for the animal. Before they knew what I was doing, I was on the beast's back and yelling into its ears like a maniac. The horse scooted out of the camp, and I clung on. The bandits pursued me, and everything else is a haze till I heard Frank calling for me to jump off. I recognized his voice and fell off the horse, although I had not the least idea in the world where I was." "Wa'al," chuckled Bushnell, "thet's w'at I call dead fool luck, beggin' yer pardon fer speakin' so open like, at which I means no harm whatever." "Oh, ye needn't beg my pardon," quickly said Professor Scotch. "I don't want any credit for getting away. It wasn't a case of brains at all." Breakfast was prepared, and they ate heartily, after which Frank, Hans, and the professor lay down to sleep, while Bushnell smoked a black pipe. But even Bushnell was not made of iron, and the pipe soothed him to slumber, so the entire party slept, with no one to guard. All at once, some hours later, they were awakened by an exclamation from Frank, who sat up and stared at the form of a stranger, the latter being quietly squatting in their midst, calmly puffing at a cigarette, while his poncho was wrapped about him to his hips. Frank's exclamation awakened Bushnell like an electric shock, and, even as his eyes opened, his hand shot out, the fingers grasping the butt of a revolver that was pointed straight at the stranger. "Stiddy, thar!" called the Westerner. "I hev ther drop on yer, an' I'll sock yer full of lead ef yer wiggle a toenail! You hear me chirp!" The stranger continued smoking, his coal-black eyes being the only part of him to move, for all of the threatening revolver. Hans sat up, gasping: "Shimminy Gristmas! Der pandits haf caught us alretty soon!" At this Professor Scotch gave a groan of dismay, faintly gurgling: "Then I'm a goner!" That the stranger was a half-blood could be seen at a glance. "Drap thet cigaroot, an' give an account of yerself instanter right off!" ordered Bushnell, threateningly. "Who in blazes be yer?" The cigarette fell from the man's lips, and he answered: "I am Rodeo." "Wa'al, who is Rodeo?" "The brother of Pacheco." "Don't I toldt you dot!" panted the Dutch boy. Professor Scotch groaned again, and rolled a little farther from the half-blood, but still made no effort to sit up. "Wa'al, dern your skin!" cried Bushnell. "You've got a nerve to come hyar! I s'pose Pacheco an' his gang of onery varmints is within whoopin' distance?" "I am alone; there is no one within call." "Wa'al, w'at be yer hyar fer, thet's what I wants ter know?" "I found you asleep, and I came to warn you." "Of what?" "Danger. The ladrones are on your trail already. Before the sun sinks behind the mountains they will be here. If you are not gone, you must all fall into their hands." Bushnell looked doubtful and suspicious, while a puzzled expression came into his bronzed face. "Look hyar," he said; "you're up ter some game, an' I'm derned ef I know what she am, but yer wants ter understand yer can't monkey with this old coon none whatever. I hold the drop on yer, Old Socks, an' I may take a fancy ter bore yer once jest fer fun, so ye'd best talk straight an' squar', an' be lively about it." "Yah," nodded Hans, threateningly, "you petter peen in a plamed pig hurry apoudt dot talking pusiness." "What do you wish me to say, senors?" "Explain why you're hyar ter warn us." "Because I'm the brother of Pacheco." "Thet don't go down with this old coon. Pacheco is ther leader of ther bandits." "He was the leader of the bandits." "Was the leader?" "Si, senor." "An' ain't he now?" "No, senor." "How long since?" "At least one month." "Oh, say, thet thar won't do--I tells yer it won't, fer we know er blamed sight better! Rodeo, lying is dangerous with me 'round." "Senor, I do not lie; I tell you the truth. One month ago Pacheco was the leader of the band; now he is dead, and another is in his place. This other killed him in a battle, and by that he won the right to be leader of the band. He has taken my brother's name, and he calls himself Pacheco. Senors, I swear to you I speak the truth--I swear by all the saints! My brother is dead, and there is an impostor in his place." Frank was impressed, and his hand fell on Bushnell's arm. "I believe the fellow really speaks the truth," he said. "He seems sincere, and his eyes are square and steady." "Yer can't tell about ther skunks," muttered the Westerner; "but still this one does seem ter be layin' a straight trail." "I have taken my oath," continued the half-blood, a red light in his dark eyes--"I have sworn to kill the murderer of my brother, and I will keep the oath. That's why I am here. I have been watching the band for two weeks; I know every move they will make. I know when you leave Huejugilla el Alto, and I know they will follow. I make sure of that, and then, with my heart full of joy, I ride fast in advance. At last--at last they go to my country in the mountains! My people are there--my other brothers, my cousins, my relatives. They will all stand by me, and they will be ready to avenge Pacheco. The wrath of my people shall fall on the head of the impostor! You wonder why I warn you? I will explain. You are bound far in the mountains, and the false Pacheco will follow. If you are captured, he may turn back. I want him to follow you--I want you to lead him into the snare. That is why I am here, and that is why I have warned you, senors. It is done, and now I will go." He arose to his feet, heedless of Bushnell's command to "keep still," and strode toward the horses. They saw an extra animal was there, and, in a moment, he had flung himself on the creature's back. "_Buenos dias, senores._" A clatter of hoofs, the flutter of a poncho, and a crimson serape, and Rodeo's horse was galloping up the ravine that still led deeper into the mountains. Man and horse soon vanished from view. _ |
||