The Border Boys with the Mexican Rangers Read online

  CHAPTER XX.

  WITH THE MEXICAN RANGERS.

  Coyote Pete felt that he was passing through the most critical momentsof his adventurous life. At the very least, he estimated the drop tothe bottom of the gully must be several hundred feet.

  Obviously it was impossible for him to extricate himself from thehurtling log, yet to remain in it was to doom himself to almost certaindestruction. Yet, as the log shot down like an object dropped from aballoon, he realized that when it struck the earth he would be batteredinto annihilation.

  But even in a situation which would have caused most men to swoon withterror, Coyote could think, and think coolly, too.

  Suddenly, though, there came a sudden interruption to the downwardprogress of the great log with its human freight enclosed.

  Crash!

  Every nerve in Coyote Pete’s frame seemed to be ripped asunder. Everytooth in his head was jarred. He lay still, feeling pounded andstunned, like a boy who has just had a hard fight with some schooltyrant.

  “The log has landed, evidently,” he exclaimed, “but how? Where? Whyaren’t I dead?”

  Suddenly he became aware that the wood encasing him like a coffin hadbecome easier in its pressure on him. He moved, and with a tearing,rending sound the log burst asunder.

  Like a butterfly from its cocoon,—if Coyote will forgive me forcomparing his rugged form to a butterfly,—the cow-puncher, bruised,wounded and sore in every limb, peered forth. Where was he?

  All at once he felt the portion of the log which remained beneathhim gently swaying like a boat on rippling waves. In a short time,by cautious feeling about him, he found that the log had, by someprovidential miracle, landed on a sort of island of trees growing,apparently, right straight out from the cliff face. As he realized hisposition the cold sweat burst out in great drops on his brow and allover his body. If this was the case his fate was to be worse than if hehad been dashed to pieces and mercifully killed outright.

  Hung where he was between heaven and earth, he would have to diemiserably of starvation, unless madness intervened and he leapedcrazily to his own destruction. All at once, as he made hisinvestigations, his foot slipped, and with a cry of actual terror thecow-puncher felt himself beginning to dart downward through space. By adesperate, despairing effort he clutched the branches as he fell, anddrew himself, with infinite pains, back upon his precious perch. Oncethere he lay trembling and nauseated at the thought of the narrownessof his escape from a plunge into the abyss.

  Of all the tight places he had ever been in, Coyote Pete was surely nowin the very worst. He felt the wall behind him when he had somewhatrecovered from his attack of deadly sickness. It was smooth as glass.No chance of climbing up. He would have examined his surroundings atgreater length, but he dared not risk another slip like the one thathad so unnerved him.

  It was many years since Coyote Pete had prayed, but he did so then,commending his soul to his Maker, for that he would ever escape fromhis frightful predicament he did not dare to hope. Somewhat calmerafter his devotions he lay still, not daring to move lest the motion ofhis body might dislodge some of the rotten wood, and he could not bearto think of hearing it go dropping down into that awful gorge beneath,finally losing all sound in the dread profundities.

  It was unlikely in the extreme that he would ever be found, for in thatunfrequented part of the mountain fastnesses it was most improbablethat anyone ever passed. It was only the thirst for gold that hadbrought Ramon into the rugged place.

  There came no sound from above, and Coyote concluded that the outlaws,hearing the crash of the landing, had concluded that he was dead, anddeparted.

  “What a story fer the boys and the professor to hyar,” groaned theunhappy man, burying his face in his hands.

  So the dark hours rolled away and daylight came. But those hours ofterror had unnerved Coyote terribly. With the coming of day he dreadedmore than ever to look beneath him. He felt that if he ever dared togaze into the voids which he felt must lie beneath his fragile perch,that he must be impelled by a crazy desire to leap into space.

  So strong did this feeling become that he lay there, not daring to lookabout him, until a sudden sound smote on his ears,—the sharp rattleof hoofs, coming apparently from the canyon above which his log wasperched in such a precarious condition.

  The sound in arousing Coyote’s hopes of rescue,—though how they wereto rescue him he did not know,—had likewise temporarily banished hiskeener fears. Cautiously he peeped over the edge of his eyrie and thengave vent to a shout of astonishment that went echoing and roaring offamong the canyon walls.

  “Mother of all the bob cats!” he howled, “here I’ve bin lying all nightez scared ez a sick puppy and not ten feet above the ground!”

  Such, in fact, was the case. The trees in which the log had sofortunately landed, grew out from almost the base of the great cliff.Coyote, glancing up, saw that they were the only ones on its hundredand fifty feet of height.

  “Coyote, you old idjut, ain’t you never goin’ to larn?” the cowboyadmonished himself. “Why didn’t you drop suthin’ down ter see how faryou was above the ground, you consarned, double-barreled old chump?You’d hev saved yourself some gray hairs ef you hed.”

  Reproaching himself thus, the cow-puncher dropped lightly from one ofthe lower branches of the trees to the ground.

  “Wish I’d done that when I slipped last night,” he said. “Hold on,though, on second thoughts, I don’t. I’d have bin dead o’ fright aforeI touched the ground in that case.”

  But now the hoof beats which had attracted his attention were comingnearer. The floor of the canyon was so strewn with Titanic rock masses,though, that it was impossible to see more than a few yards in eitherdirection.

  “Wonder if that ain’t thet Ramon and his bunch come ter look at therremains?” thought Pete. “Guess I’ll be on the safe side and jes’ duck a’hind this yar rock till I make sure.”

  So saying, he slipped between two boulders into a small natural cave inwhich he felt he would be secure from observation, and yet be able tosee what was going forward. He had not long to wait. Suddenly, aroundthe corner of one of the huge rock piles, there swung a troop of gailycaparisoned riders; Mexicans, beyond a doubt. Their serapes streamedout behind them in the wind like gaudy streamers.

  “Now, what bunch of pesky greasers is this yar?” Pete was beginning tohimself, when suddenly he broke off in amazement:

  “Jack Merrill’s among ’em, by ginger. He’s a prisoner! No, he ain’t!He’s talking ter that chap in front with ther silver-mounted rifle. Bobcats! I have it now. It’s a troop of rurales, and they’re on the trailof Ramon!

  “Yip-yip-yee-ee-ee!”

  Giving vent to the long-drawn cow-puncher yell, Coyote Pete dashed fromhis place of concealment, and a more astonished lad than Jack MerrillI can assure you, you never saw, when he perceived the old plainsmansuddenly bob up out of a great rock mass in that lonely canyon.

  In his excess of joy Coyote fairly flung his arms about Jack’s neck.

  But scant time could be given to greetings. Explanations were in order.Exclamations of indignation and of fury ran like wildfire among theRangers, as the old plainsman told his tale. Then Jack related how hehad fared, and how they had trailed the marauders, being much delayedat times, though, by faulty tracks where the party had passed over hardground.

  “By ginger, I never noticed till now, that we are in the same canyonwe came through with that outfit of Ramon’s late yesterday!” exclaimedPete. “Gloomy place, ain’t it? And it seemed pretty glum to me lastnight, I can tell you.”

  He gazed at the cliff and shuddered a little. He could not help it.

  “Say, Jack, hez my hair turned white?” he asked suddenly.

  “No,” laughed the boy, “why?”

  “Arter what I went through, I hearn tell of such things. Me for a nicesnug place in a stampede, or the front rank in a shooting scrape arterthis. I’ve no more use for exciting sports.”

  “Senors
,” interrupted the leader of the Rangers presently, “we hadbetter be proceeding. Ramon may have broken camp and gone on by thistime, and again he may have——”

  “May have what?” asked Jack, for the capitano paused and seemedunwilling to proceed.

  “I do not wish to alarm you unduly, senor,” said the young officer,“but I know the character of that notorious outlaw well. It is possiblethat if we do not hurry we may arrive too late to save your friendsfrom a terrible fate.”

  The thought was maddening to Jack.

  “Oh, that we have been fooling away time here!” he exclaimedimpatiently; “Pete, you can mount behind me. There. Are you all right?Yes? Then forward!”

  “Forward!” shouted the officer, and the bugle rang shrilly out.

  Amidst a cloud of dust the Mexican Rangers swept on down the canyon,intent on their errand of vengeance.