The Marines Have Landed Part 14

who's going to get the beating of his life in just about five minutes,"

answered d.i.c.k, taking an extra tug to his belt. "That fellow is coming right up the hill to this trail, and I'm going to be right at the top to welcome him. Come along, Hank, but lie low and leave him to me."

Stooping low, both lads ran across the open s.p.a.ce till they came to the edge of the farther wood, where they found an entrance to the trail up which the lone horseman could be seen spurring and lashing his worn-out steed. The animal was too far gone to respond to the cruel treatment, and plodded slowly and wearily upward.

"Hank, you go to the other side in case he should happen to turn that way," directed d.i.c.k. "That brute won't escape us; and let me tell you something, I'm not going to beat him up for lashing me, alone, I'm going to try and even up some of the debt for that poor dumb animal he's torturing."

Henry scuttled to the north side of the trail, while d.i.c.k waited impatiently where he first had hidden.

The labored breathing of the horse came to his ears, and then, preceded by a volley of oaths, rider and horse reached the ridge trail. The native, a dark, swarthy, pock-marked man, about thirty-five years of age, with black, bloodshot eyes and long, yellow teeth, was broad shouldered, and though slender, was well knit. On reaching the crest of the hill the horse's head was turned southward and again the rider raised the heavy quirt to bring it down on the bleeding, swollen flanks.

That blow never fell, for with the quick spring of a tiger d.i.c.k grabbed the rider around the waist and tore him from the saddle, throwing him to the ground. At the same time he s.n.a.t.c.hed the quirt from the surprised man's hand and began belaboring him as he groveled at the boy's feet.

The startled horse meanwhile had turned down the slope and was stumbling towards the foot of the hill.

"How do you like that, you yellow cur?" questioned d.i.c.k coolly, giving the coward a final blow across the legs. "Do you think you want to try any more tricks on me?"

"No! No! Senor! Pardon, Senor! Por Dios, no mas!" cried the man as he saw d.i.c.k's arm rise again and the lash snap ominously.

"Get up and vamoose," ordered d.i.c.k, pointing along the trail they had followed. "Never mind your horse; you can get him when I get through with you."

Never taking his eyes from the man, d.i.c.k made him march in front of them. The native limped along protestingly, but every time he stopped to argue d.i.c.k applied the lash with good effect.

On reaching the trail leading down to Firewood Bay, d.i.c.k pointed towards the town of Dewey.

"You savvy Dewey?" he inquired.

"Si, Senor," came the surly response, and the shifty black eyes glared for a moment at the boy.

"Well, beat it--p.r.o.nto," ordered d.i.c.k, and with the words he gave the man a push in the right direction, while both boys, as if performing a military drill, simultaneously aided him with a persuading kick.

"Just to help you along a bit," called Henry and then he turned to d.i.c.k.

"Shake, d.i.c.k; that was a job well and n.o.bly done."

As he spoke five bullets whistled past them, one dusting the ground at their feet and ricochetting with a shrill "Z-z-z-i-i-n-n-g."

Instantly the startled boys dropped to the gra.s.s beside the trail and, keeping under cover until a fold in the ground effectually protected them, they ran for the boat landing.

"Wonder why he didn't use that shooting iron before?" questioned d.i.c.k, looking back over the trail.

"Reckon he was too plumb scared to remember he owned a gun," said Henry, still beaming with joy over the adventure. "Do you believe he'll take any more pot shots at us?"

"No, we are out of pistol range down here, and he can't come down the hill without being seen. Those shots were too close for comfort to suit me, and yet I hated to have to run away as we did. Still it would have been worse than foolhardy to tempt Fortune by hanging around up there with that rascal in hiding. How do you like being under fire?"

"Can't say I've any hankering for it, but it didn't scare me as I thought it would," said Henry.

The men from Flamingo Bay were now coming over the brow of the hill and soon reached the boat. They had not seen the native on the other side of the hill, but all had heard the five shots. The boys did not enlighten them as to the cause, having decided to report the whole matter to First Sergeant Dougla.s.s on their return to the _Denver_.

While they were shoving the heavy cutter into the water the two men, Joe Choiniski and "Slugger" Williams, came from around the point and joined the group. Both men wore rubber boots, and d.i.c.k remembered that they had taken them ash.o.r.e that afternoon under their arms, whereas now they carried their shoes, from the tops of which were sticking some finely branched pieces of unbleached coral. d.i.c.k also noticed how carefully they got into the boat when all was ready to shove off for the ship.

"Wonder where they hid their booze," said Henry, "for I'd bet a month's pay they have it somewhere."

"I guess I know, and you watch Corporal Dorlan frisk them when they go up on deck," answered d.i.c.k with a knowing wink.

Arriving at the port gangway, the liberty party went aboard and fell in on the quarter-deck for inspection before being dismissed. Corporal Dorlan, standing at the top of the gangway, was surprised to hear d.i.c.k whisper as he pa.s.sed, "Search the rubber boots, Corporal," but he was not slow of comprehension, and as soon as the men were all in line he went directly up to Joe and "Slugger" and feeling down their boot legs brought forth several flat flasks carefully wrapped in dry seaweed.

"What is this?" said Mr. Thorp, the Officer of the Deck.

And Corporal Dorlan merely answered:

"'Wilson--that's all,' sir."

"That is fine work, Corporal. I congratulate you," said a hearty voice behind the line of men who had witnessed this little scene, and turning Dorlan found Commander Bentley standing near him.

"It's not me what discovered it, sir. All the credit belongs to Drummer Comstock. He's the lad what put me wise, sir."

"We will hold 'mast' and investigate this matter at once, Mr. Thorp; have Comstock report here immediately."

d.i.c.k, having heard his name called, approached.

"Now, young man, tell me all you know of this business," ordered the Captain, and having heard the entire story of the exciting afternoon ash.o.r.e he ordered d.i.c.k to go to the Executive Officer's office and dictate a full report to the Yeoman.

"A man like the one you describe has no business to be at large," he said. "I will communicate with the authorities ash.o.r.e and have him locked up. In the meantime, Mr. Thorp, send a detail of marines ash.o.r.e under arms to search and destroy the shack these two boys discovered.

It's on the government reservation and has no business there. Trumpeter Cabell will go ash.o.r.e and act as guide."

Then turning to the two culprits, Commander Bentley said:

"I'll keep you men in close confinement until a court-martial can dispose of your case. Have these two men taken to the brig[#] at once, Mr. Thorp."

[#] Brig--Cell for confinement of men under punishment.

"Aye, aye, sir!" and Ensign Thorp gave the Master-at-Arms the necessary orders.

CHAPTER IX

HISTORIC BATTLEFIELDS

"Speaking of that report against our horse beater," remarked Henry a few days later, "reminds me, d.i.c.k, that I never thought to inquire if you ever heard from the report you wrote out in Washington against those plotters."

"No," answered d.i.c.k, looking up from the signal card he was studying, "I wrote it the following Monday and sent it to Dad, but never heard anything from it."

"We heard from your last report," said Henry. "That Spig was a wise hombre, right enough. The revenue officer found out all about him, but 'Mexican Pete' was too quick. He left for parts unknown that same day, and all the authorities in Porto Rico are on the lookout for him. He's a famous smuggler down in these regions and a regular bad man in the bargain. It's said he has served jail sentences in nearly every town from here to Vera Cruz. He's a Mexican by birth, a bad man by nature and a wanderer most of the time by necessity."

"That is all true, Hank, but it is not getting down this Morse code,"

replied d.i.c.k. "We've learned the semaph.o.r.e, wigwag and Ardois, and I think we can give the signal boys on the bridge a run for their money; but I can't seem to get these sound signals. Guess my ear isn't attuned properly!"