The Broncho Rider Boys with Funston at Vera Cruz Part 39

"How so?"

"The new arrivals may take up the attention of the gang of bandits outside and we may get away ere they return."

"Good," was Adrian's comment. "Where is Miss Josie?"

"Waiting in the next room with the family of my host."

Mr. Black stepped to the door and called to those within. In a few words he explained the situation and in less than three minutes he and the girl were mounted and ready to ride.

"Where is your horse?" he asked Adrian.

"I left it with the boys at the cocoanut grove."

"But we can't go and leave you here."

"Of course not. I shall run alongside of your horse, holding to its mane, Indian fashion. Now then, are we ready?"

"All ready!"

The great gate was opened noiselessly and, bidding a subdued good-bye to the family, the three pa.s.sed out into the night.

"I should have throttled Jose ere I left," declared Mr. Black as they pa.s.sed down the street.

"I wish we were as safe as he is," laughed Adrian.

For three blocks they wended their way as silently as possible and just as they came out into the open there came another bugle call.

"That's for us," said Adrian. "There is no mistaking that command. Now to run for it."

The two riders put spurs to their horses and Adrian bounded along at their side, running as lightly as an antelope. They were rapidly nearing the spot where the Americans were in waiting, when Adrian stepped into a hole and pitched forward onto his face.

"Don't stop for me!" he called. "I'll be there as quick as you are!"

He picked himself up and started to run, but his ankle gave him such a pain that he almost fainted.

"Great Scott!" he exclaimed, "I've sprained my ankle."

He sat down and rubbed the maimed member for a couple of minutes and then attempted to hobble on. It was more than he could bear and he sat down again.

"By George," he groaned, "this is tough! I'll have to call for help."

He gave the well-known whistle, but there was no response.

He gave it again; but still no answer.

"Worse and more of it," he muttered. "Something has happened to Billie."

What it might be Adrian could not imagine, but he was sure that his chum was not at the appointed spot, as he was near enough to have heard the whistle and would surely have answered.

"Well, I can't stay here. The greasers will be coming pretty soon. I must get along some way."

He got up and walked a few steps and again sat down. There was no sound of a pursuit and the hoofbeats of Mr. Black's horses had ceased.

"They have reached the grove," Adrian muttered. "I must get there some way."

Once more he arose to his feet and took several steps and then sank down in a faint, so great was the pain.

When he came to himself he was lying upon a matting of some kind and to his ears came the faint sound of a guitar, followed a few moments later by sounds of girlish laughter.

He sat up and looked around, but could see nothing, except a ray of light coming in through a little crack between a couple of blankets that formed a curtain in a doorway.

"Where in the name of common sense am I?" he muttered.

He attempted to get to his feet, but the pain in his ankle brought him quickly to himself.

"Now I remember!" he exclaimed. "I fell and sprained my ankle.

But how did I get here?"

He started to call, but at that moment the music ceased and a minute later he heard voices saying good night. Then a door was closed and immediately the curtains were thrown open and a peon woman stood in the door.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, upon seeing Adrian sitting up and looking at her. "Then you are not dead?"

"I should say not. Did you think I was?"

"I was afraid so."

"Why?"

"Because your death might be laid at my door."

"Evidently she hasn't discovered I am an American," thought Adrian. "Well, I'll not tell her until I have to."

The woman turned around and called to some one in the other room and another figure appeared in the door--that of a girl some fifteen years of age.

"Look, Peppita," and the elder woman pointed at Adrian.

The girl gave a little scream.

"_Madre mia!_" she exclaimed. "Who is it?"

"I know not, my child. I found him unconscious at our back door and dragged him inside."

"I beg your pardon," said Adrian. "I didn't know I was near any house."

"It is a very poor one, senor. I and my daughter are all alone since my poor Leocadio was killed."

"Who killed him?" asked Adrian, becoming interested.