The Border Boys Across the Frontier Part 28

"That shows us what we may expect at the mine," commented Jack. "I hope they are still all right."

"Don't worry about that, boy," comforted Buck, noting his troubled face. "The fact that Madero had his men along the line shows that he antic.i.p.ated our game--like the shrewd ruffian he is. It stands to reason he couldn't have his precious squadron, or column, or whatever he calls it, in two places at once, so I guess we'll be in time yet."

"I hope so, I'm sure," breathed Jack. "If we failed now, it would be the bitterest moment of my life."

But, as they came in sight of the tall stockade and the smokeless chimneys of the Esmeralda, they saw that their apprehensions were groundless. No sign of life appeared about the mine buildings. But presently, in answer to a long blast on the whistle, a strange figure came toddling out of the gate. It was that of Geisler. As he saw the engine, with its load of friendly faces, he broke into a cheer, and ran toward the track side.

"Hoch! Hoch! Hoch!" he yelled, waving his china-bowled pipe about his head. "Diss iss der bestest thing I've seen since I had idt der Cherman measles, alretty yet."

As the brakes ground down, and with a mighty exhalation of steam and a sigh from the air-brakes, the locomotive came to a stop, Jack leaped from the cab and ran toward the German. To his astonishment, Geisler almost recoiled as he drew near, and uttered a shout.

"Donner blitzen! I voss righdt den, idt vos a trap dot dose rascals laid."

"What do you mean, Mr. Geisler? Where is my father?" gasped Jack, all in one breath.

"Himmel!" sputtered the German. "Oh, diss is an onloocky day, py chiminy. A young feller rode it to der mine, early to-day, undt told your fader dot you vos wounded, and----"

"My father went with this fellow?" demanded the boy, his eyes blazing with eagerness and anxiety.

"Ches. He thought dot idt vos all righdt, und----"

"It's a trick of Madero's to rush the mine!" exclaimed Buck, who, with the others, came up as the German was e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.n.g. the last words.

"Dot is vot I d.i.n.k idt. Listen."

Forthwith the German launched into a detailed report of what had occurred, not omitting a full description of Harding, which was instantly recognized by the boys.

"Harding, the scoundrel!" exclaimed Jack.

"I'd like to get my hands on him for just five minutes," breathed Walt viciously.

Buck and the others, who were, of course, familiar with what had occurred to the boys with Madero's column, were also incensed.

"Such men should be hanged!" exclaimed the professor, with what was for him, a remarkable display of emotion.

"Budt come," urged the German, as he concluded his narrative, "vee hadt better be getting inside der stockade."

He pointed down toward the miners' village, where men could be seen hastening about, as if preparing to take action of some sort. What that action was, they guessed too well. Acting in concert with Madero, they meant to storm the mine, and break open the specie room.

Ralph ran the locomotive upon a switch and locked the throwing lever.

Then he followed the others through the gate of the stockade. As it closed behind them, Geisler let fall a stout wooden bar into sockets prepared for it.

"I guess dot holdt dem for a viles," he said, as the bar clattered into position.

But Jack's thoughts were distracted, and his manner absorbed. His mind was fixed upon Harding's rascality, and the probable dilemma in which his father now was. Buck Bradley noticed the boy's despondent air, and sought to cheer him up.

"Brace up, Jack," he roared in his hearty way, "your pop is all right.

According to my way of thinking, those greasers just lured him away from here, so that they could have easy access to the specie room.

They knew that if he was on the ground, he'd blow up the whole shooting-match before he'd let them get at the gold."

"Then you don't think they have harmed him, Mr. Bradley?"

"Not they, my lad," was the rea.s.suring rejoinder, "they wouldn't dare to injure a prominent American like your dad. Why, our troops are all ma.s.sed at San Antone--for manoeuvers, the department says--but as surely as my name is Buck Bradley, the troops are there to see that the greasers don't get too fresh. You see, Jack, Uncle Sam don't want to mix in other folks' troubles. He believes in playing in his own back yard, but when any one treads on your Uncle's toes, or injures one of his citizens--then, look out for high voltage shocks."

"You have relieved my mind a whole lot, Mr. Bradley," said Jack gratefully. "I guess it's as you say. Madero and his crowd wouldn't want to run the risk of an American invasion."

"You can bet a stack of yaller chips on that, boy. But now, let's follow this Dutchman around and see what the lay of the ground is. If we've got to put up a sc.r.a.p--and I guess we have--it's a long move in the right direction to have your surroundings sized up accurate. By the way, is this fellow Geisler all right?"

"My father thinks he is the most faithful and capable mining super in the country," answered Jack warmly. "I guess he is, too. I only met him once before on a former visit to the mine, but he sort of inspires me with confidence."

"Same here, Jack. I tell you the Dutch kin raise some Cain when they get going, and that fellow looks to me like one of the right brand."

Thus talking, they came up with the others. Geisler was explaining volubly his plan of defense. Buck Bradley interrupted him.

"What's the matter with boring some holes all around the stockade?" he asked. "We can fire from behind them if it's necessary, without exposing ourselves."

"Buck, that's a great idea," declared Pete, whose eyes were shining at the thought of what he termed "some action." "Got a brace and bit, Geisler?"

"Sure. Ve-e haf a whole barrel of braces and bitters," was the response, as the corpulent Teuton hastened off to get the tools.

At the part of the stockade at which they now were standing a ladder, used in some repairing job, still leaned against the high, wooden fence. Coyote Pete, struck by a sudden idea, clambered up it, and gazed over the top of the defensive barricade. As his head topped the summit, he gave a shout and rapidly ducked. At the same instant a sound, like the hum of an angry bee, buzzed above their heads.

"A bullet!" gasped Buck Bradley.

"That's wot, pod'ner," rejoined Pete, "and it's the first of a whole flock of such like. The country off to the southwest is jest alive with insurrectos!"

CHAPTER XXIV.

THE ATTACK ON THE MINE.

Flinging his legs over each side of the ladder, Coyote Pete slid to the ground like a boy sliding down a cellar door.

"I could catch the glint of sunlight on their rifles," he explained.

"The beggars were trying to approach unseen, though, I guess, for they were sneaking round a neck of woods so as to take advantage of that arroyo that runs almost up to the mine. Better get busy with that borer."

And "get busy" they did. Holes were rapidly bored in the stockade, the apertures being of sufficient size to accommodate comfortably the muzzle of a rifle. Above each such hole another was bored, to enable the defenders to see the position of their foes. Although this work took more than an hour, there was still no sign of the enemy. But they evidently had a close watch kept on the mine, for a hat elevated on a long stick above the top of the stockade was promptly riddled with bullets.

"Jingo!" gasped Jack. "Those fellows mean business."

"What do you suppose they are going to do?" Walt asked Buck Bradley.

The stout showman looked grave.

"This hanging back looks bad," he rejoined. "I guess they are waiting till dusk so as to try and catch us unprepared. Evidently they figger they've got us where they want us, and there is no use being in a rush about finishing us up."

Buck's words were grim, but his expression was grimmer yet. The former ranch boss had been in many a tough place in his day, but revolving the situation in his mind he could not call to recollection any more dangerous circ.u.mstances than those in which he now found himself.