The Radio Boys on the Mexican Border Part 3

"Drat the luck, he'll escape us yet."

"Hey, Bob, we can cut 'em off at the Gut," called Frank, and he struck away at a tangent from their course as the man disappeared around the house and the motor car could be heard roaring off down the drive.

"Righto," cried Bob, and he followed his chum.

Old Davey had dropped far behind and Mr. Temple and Tom Barnum were laboring along some yards in the rear of the two boys and steadily losing ground.

"Careful, boys," called Mr. Temple gaspingly, as he grasped the meaning of the boys' maneuver. "Don't be rash. May be several of them."

"All right, Dad," sang out Bob over his shoulder. "We'll be careful.

Follow along."

The boys were heading for a place in the woods where the drive ran between six-foot banks before turning a sharp corner. Cars perforce had to be slowed up going through this place which the boys called the Gut. Furthermore, the drive approached this place by a winding, circuitous route, while the boys were not far distant from it by the shortcut through the woods which they were following. Chances were even that they would be in time to intercept the fugitives. Yet what could they do even if they arrived in time? They gave no thought to that as they crashed through the underbrush.

Bob slightly in the lead reached the top of the bank overhanging the road ahead of his comrade and experienced a thrill of triumph as he heard the roar of the approaching car and realized he had arrived first. The car slowed down as it entered the Gut. Evidently the driver remembered the perilous place from when he had driven through on approaching the house.

The car pa.s.sed below going at a snail's pace while Frank was still a short distance in the rear and Mr. Temple and Tom Barnum were not yet in sight. It was an open touring car with the top folded back. There were three men in it, one on the seat beside the driver and the third in the rear. He was the man who had entered the Hampton house. The driver appeared to be a New York taxi chauffeur, and probably had been employed for the trip. The others were swarthy men, foreign in appearance.

The man beside the driver, looking up, saw Bob, and shouted. At that moment the car pa.s.sed directly beneath him, and Bob leaped. He landed on the running board beside the rear seat. Steadying himself as the car lurched from the impact of his weight, Bob reached in and grasped the man on the rear seat by the coat collar and half pulled him from the car, so that his body lay across the door.

Then the unexpected occurred. The driver opened his throttle and the car leaped ahead, and at the same time the man beside him stood up and struck at Bob.

Bob leaned back to avoid the blow, and the next moment found himself flat on his back in the road, with the car disappearing around the curve.

Frank, who by now had reached the top of the bank, dropped to the road beside him and bent over him with real anxiety in his voice as he said:

"Bob, Bob, are you hurt?"

Ruefully rubbing the back of his head, Bob sat up.

"No," said he, "But they got away, Frank."

Again there was a crashing in the underbrush on the top of the bank, and Mr. Temple and Tom Barnum came into view, red and perspiring.

"Escaped you, hey?" said Mr. Temple, leaping to the road, as Bob scrambled to his feet. "But, say, I see you captured something all right." And he pointed to a coat clutched fast in Bob's hand.

Then for the first time Bob noticed that in falling from the car he had dragged his victim's coat with him. He held it up and looked at it curiously.

"He must have been wriggling out of his coat when he found you wouldn't let go," surmised Frank. "I could see him threshing around just as I came up to the top of the bank. Then you fell and held on tight and the coat was pulled from him."

"Yes, I guess that's the way it happened," a.s.sented Bob. "Well, I'd rather have had the fellow. This isn't any good to me." And he tossed the coat away contemptuously.

"Not so fast, Bob," said Frank, stooping to pick up the garment.

"Let's see what's in the pockets. There may be a clue as to the man's ident.i.ty."

"That's right, Frank," said Mr. Temple. "Search it well. And, Bob, did you notice the license number of the car? We can telephone and have it intercepted."

"No," confessed Bob. "I was too busy to get that."

Frank interrupted the conversation with a shout of delight. "Look at this," he cried, holding up a long strip of paper. "Return trip ticket to Ransome, New Mexico. And a wallet with a big bunch of bills in it.

And here, what's this?" he added, holding up a thick, legal-looking envelope. "Why, Mr. Hampton's name is written on it."

"Let me have that, Frank," said Mr. Temple, extending his hand. Frank pa.s.sed him the envelope. Mr. Temple noted the seal had been broken, and opening it he pulled out a thick doc.u.ment down which he ran his glance hurriedly. Then his face became grave.

"Boys," he said, "Mr. Hampton has many things of value in his home, but this was the most valuable of all." Briefly he explained the paper contained a list of names of "independents" in the oil field, together with other information, which would give the Octopus a very great advantage in the business war between the Oil Trust and the "independents" if the doc.u.ment fell into its hands.

"This is pretty serious business, boys," Mr. Temple continued. "Bob, you were very rash, but you did a good stroke of business that time.

Come," he added, "we'll go back to the house, and call up the police.

Maybe that car can be stopped and its occupants arrested."

As they turned through the woods, another thought occurred to Mr.

Temple, and he asked Frank what was the name of the man to whom the railroad ticket had been issued.

"Jose Morales," read Frank. "This is the portion for the return trip from New York. Evidently the man came from--why, Mr. Temple, he came here from Ransome, New Mexico. That's the nearest station on the railroad to the Hampton's camp."

"You're right, my boy," said Mr. Temple gravely. "There is some mystery here."

Frank thwacked Bob gleefully on the back. "Say, Bob," he declared, "old Jack isn't having all the fun after all, is he?"

CHAPTER IV

SHOTS AT THE STATION

"Boys," said Mr. Temple, when the Temple home, a short distance from the Hampton place, was reached, "come into the library with me. I want to have a serious talk with you."

Obediently, Bob and Frank filed into the room and sat down in deep leather armchairs, while Mr. Temple sat back in a swinging chair by his broad, flat-topped desk. Selecting a cigar from the humidor at his elbow, he lighted it and puffed thoughtfully several moments before addressing the chums.

"First of all," he said at the conclusion of this period of silence, "I've decided that we will not notify the police of this affair."

"Why not, Dad?" demanded Bob in surprise.

"We want to keep this matter to ourselves until we can see more clearly what it means," explained Mr. Temple. "We recovered what was stolen, anyhow. But more than that, I begin to suspect there is something more behind all this than mere business rivalry between the independent oil operators and the Trust."

"What do you mean, Uncle George?" asked Frank, puzzled.

"Well, boys, I'll tell you," said Mr. Temple, speaking deliberately and thoughtfully. "In the first place I know the men at the head of the so-called Octopus. They are keen business men and quick to seize every legitimate advantage. But they are above such unscrupulous tactics as this.

"I know the signs point to them as the instigator of our troubles at Mr. Hampton's camp and then here today. But those signs point to something else, too. If you will recall, Jack said the fellows who raided the Hamptons today, or rather tried to do so but failed, were Mexicans. And this man who entered the Hampton house today was a Mexican, too. What was his name, Frank?"

"Morales. Jose Morales," said Frank, promptly.

"Yes, Jose Morales," said Mr. Temple. "Well, I believe that certain Mexicans are responsible for our troubles, and not our business rivals, at all."

"What in the world?" said Bob, puzzled.