Frank at Don Carlos' Rancho

Frank could scarcely credit his senses. Was it possible that the redoubtable Dick Lewis, the hero of a thousand desperate encounters, had met his match at last, and in these cowardly Mexicans, too? It did not seem to him that it could be so, and yet the whole thing had transpired in plain view. If Dick had possessed the strength of a dozen men, he could not have escaped while that lasso was around his neck. Beyond a doubt, Frank had seen the last of him. The brave fellow had lost his life in trying to save him, and the boy could not have been more horrified if he had heard his own doom pronounced. He closed his eyes, that he might not see the terrible sight; and when he opened them again, his captor was on the point of dragging him into the woods. Still urging his horse forward with reckless speed, he now lifted Frank from the ground and laid him across the horn of his saddle and held him there with one hand, while, with the other, he guided his horse through the bushes. Arriving at the creek, he dashed in, and upon reaching the opposite bank, again entered the woods, and continued his flight as rapidly as ever.

All this while the prisoner’s mind had been so fully occupied with the scene he had witnessed on the prairie, that he scarcely knew what was going on; but now he became aware that his captor was not taking him to the rancho, but that he was making the best of his way toward the mountains. Frank was at a loss how to account for this, until he glanced at the dark, lowering face above him. Could he believe his eyes? He raised his head and looked again; and it is hard to tell whether he was the more astonished or alarmed. That one look was enough to satisfy him that his troubles were but just beginning. He would much rather have found himself in the power of Don Carlos, than in the hands of the man who was bending over him.

“Ah! You know me, do you?” exclaimed the Mexican, glancing triumphantly down at his captive. “I’m glad to meet you again.”

“Pierre Costello!” cried Frank, in dismay.

“Ay! It’s Pierre, alive and well, no thanks to you or your friends!”

Frank gazed long and earnestly at the Ranchero. The last time he saw him he was on his way to the prison at San Diego, bound hand and foot, and guarded by trusty men; but here he was, in full possession of his liberty, and ready to carry out the scheme in which he had been foiled a few weeks before.

“Oh, it’s I,” said the robber, seeing that his prisoner was looking at him in utter bewilderment. “We were pretty well acquainted at one time, and it is strange that you do not recognize me.”

“I would know that villainous face of yours among a thousand,” replied Frank. “I was wondering how you escaped from the prison.”

“Easy enough. It wasn’t strong enough to hold me – that’s all. I didn’t stay there three days. I came back here, and set myself to watch you; and now that I have found you, I do not intend to lose sight of you very soon. When the Don gives me the reward he has offered for you, I will deliver you up to him. I am taking you to the mountains, because I want to see the color of the money, before I give you up; and because I don’t want to be compelled to divide with any one.”

There was no need that Pierre should take the trouble to explain his plans. Frank knew what they were before he said a word about them, and he could see no way to prevent them from being carried out. He was satisfied that it was quite useless to think of escape, and knowing that it would be the height of folly to provoke Pierre’s anger, he did not make the slightest show of resistance.

“I shall always hold a grudge against you,” said the Ranchero, tightening his grasp on Frank’s collar, “and, if it were not for the money you are worth, I would settle accounts with you in a hurry. I’ve had two chances to make myself rich, but you knocked my calculations higher than a kite. I am all right now, however, and if I ever meet you, after I deliver you up to Don Carlos, you are a goner. But that is not at all likely,” added the Mexican, “for when the gate of that rancho once closes upon you, it will never open for you again. The Don knows how to deal with men who learn his secrets. You are always meddling with other people’s business, but you have done it now for the last time.”

Frank listened in silence to this disheartening speech, and told himself that this was the worst predicament he had ever got into. When he was delivered into the Don’s hands, the latter would make an end of him; and if he did not, Pierre would. It was plain that if his captor could have his own way in the matter, Frank had not much longer to live.

The course which Pierre was taking to reach the mountains, lay through a dense forest, which, even in the day-time, was almost impassable for horsemen. He might have chosen an easier route, but knowing that he would be followed by his companions, who would not willingly surrender their claims to a share of the reward, he kept in the deepest part of the woods to elude their pursuit. His horse went at the top of his speed, and Frank was jolted about, and dashed against the trees, until it seemed to him that he could not possibly survive a moment longer. To his great relief, Pierre brought him to the edge of the woods at last; and after carrying him some distance up a ravine, stopped his horse, and began making preparations to bind his captive.

“I shall leave you here for an hour or two,” said he. “I am going back to the Don, and, if he comes down with the fifty thousand, I’ll turn you over to him; and if he doesn’t, you and I will lead a free and easy life here in the mountains, until your uncle ransoms you. I’ve got two strings to my bow this time.”

Pierre pulled his prisoner to a tree, to which he tied him securely with his lasso, Frank offering no resistance. He was too weak to lift a finger in his defense, and, as for remonstrance, he knew that would be useless, and so he held his peace.

“You take it very coolly,” remarked Pierre. “Why don’t you say something?”

“If I hadn’t been knocked about until the strength was all beaten out of me, I should have done something before this time,” replied Frank, boldly. “Give me my liberty, and fifteen minutes’ rest, and I’ll make trouble for you.”

“H’m!” said Pierre. “I can’t see it. You have made trouble enough for me already.”

“And you haven’t seen the last of me yet,” added Frank.

“I know it. I told you that I should come back to you, didn’t I?”

“I mean that you will meet me under very different circumstances. We will change places in less than twenty-four hours.”

Frank said this with no other object in view, than to let Pierre know that he still kept up a brave heart, if the future was dark before him. There was nothing in his prospects, just then, to encourage the hope that he and his enemy would “change places,” and he little dreamed that such would be the case; but, after all, something very like it did happen, and in less than half the time Frank had mentioned. Pierre, however, happy in the belief that his dreams of wealth were about to be realized, had no misgivings. He laughed at his prisoner’s warning, and springing into his saddle, disappeared in the darkness. Frank listened to the sound of his horse’s feet until it died away in the distance, and then rested his aching head against the tree, and thought over his situation. What an eventful day it had been! What astonishing adventures had been crowded into the short space of ten hours! Frank’s mind was in a perfect whirl; and, if he could have freed his hands, he would have pinched himself to see if he was really wide awake. But, after all, he knew that the events of the day were no dream – his aching limbs and throbbing head assured him of that. The fight with Old Davy, Archie’s mishap, and his mysterious disappearance at Don Carlos’ rancho, the death of the trapper, and the unexpected encounter with Pierre Costello – all were realities. It was no dream, either, that he had been bound to a tree and left in those dark woods; and it was equally certain that he was not the only living thing there. He heard a stealthy step on the leaves, and a moment afterward, saw a pair of eyes, which shone like two coals of fire, glaring at him from a thicket not far distant.

“It’s a panther!” exclaimed Frank, trembling all over with terror, and much more alarmed now than he had been when he found himself in the power of his old enemy; “and here I am perfectly helpless. Hi! hi!”

Acting upon his first impulse, which was to frighten away his disagreeable neighbor, he uttered a series of yells which awoke the echoes far and near. The result greatly astonished him. An answering shout came from the farther end of the ravine, and hasty footsteps were heard approaching. Frank’s heart beat high with hope. Had friends been following him? More likely they were some of the settlers, who had been out hunting, and were returning to their homes. In either case he would soon be free once more, and his first care would be to show Pierre that, if he had come back to the settlement, expecting to have things all his own way, he had reckoned without his host. He shouted again, and the eyes in the bushes disappeared, and he heard the panther bounding up the mountain.

“Hallo!” called a voice through the darkness.

“Hallo!” replied Frank. “This way. Here I am.”

The unknown persons were prompt to answer the call, and came through the bushes with all possible speed. Presently, Frank saw two dark forms approaching, and in a few seconds they were close at his side, and peering into his face. Why was it that he did not speak to them and tell them what had happened to him? Simply because there was no need of it. The men knew quite as much about it as he did. He had seen them before, and knew that they were members of Don Carlos’ band. The first words they uttered explained their presence there, and told Frank that they perfectly understood the matter.

“Pierre thinks he is smart,” said one, untying the lasso with which Frank was bound to the tree; “but he will find that there are men in the world as sharp as he is. We knew what was up when we saw him ride into the woods, instead of going toward the rancho. He tried to swindle us out of our share of the money, and now we will see how much of it he’ll get.”

In less time than it takes to tell it, Frank had been tied upon a horse behind one of the Mexicans, and was being carried back to the rancho. He did not experience much inconvenience from the ride, for the Mexicans traveled slowly, and avoided the woods altogether. At the end of half an hour they stopped in front of the walls of the rancho; and when the ponderous gate closed behind him, Frank shuddered and thought of the prediction Pierre had made. He glanced around the court, and saw that it was lighted up by numerous dark-lanterns, and filled with men, who seemed to be highly excited and enraged about something. They were all talking at the top of their voices, and the babel of English and Spanish was almost deafening. Archie had been the cause of this disturbance. Not more than half an hour before he had been flying about that court with all the speed his horse could command; and, having failed in his attempt at escape, he had taken refuge in the house. The Mexicans had seen him run through the hall, and into the Don’s reception-room, and had, of course, expected to capture him there; but they found the room empty, and could not imagine where Archie had gone. His disappearance astonished and alarmed them. They did not know that he was acquainted with the secret of that spring in the painting of the Indian warrior.

Conspicuous among a group of men who occupied the center of the court, stood the Don, who was, if possible, more excited and noisy than any of his band. He looked up when Frank’s captors stopped in front of him, and rubbed his hands gleefully together.

“Ach! Here is von of dese leetle poys,” said he. “Now dis ish all right!”

As soon as the lasso, with which Frank was confined to the horse, had been untied, he was assisted rather roughly to the ground. He put on a bold front, and unflinchingly met the angry glances that were directed toward him from all sides; but his heart was sinking within him, and he waited anxiously for the chief to speak.

“Vel,” said the latter, at length, “you peen trying to shpy out somethings about mine house, aint it? You peen von grand, leetle rascal. Vare ish dis other leetle poys?

“Who – Archie? I don’t know where he is; and, if I did, it is not likely that I should tell you. I hope he is safe at home.”

“Oh no, he don’t peen at home,” said the Don, shaking his head vehemently; “he ish somevares in dis house. Dake him down and lock him up.”

The chief’s looks had prepared Frank for some terrible sentence. He would not have been much surprised if he had heard that he was to be hanged or shot immediately; but, when he found that he was to be locked up, his courage rose again, and he began to indulge in the hope that a chance for escape might yet be offered him. In obedience to the Don’s order, the Rancheros conducted him to one of the rooms in the underground portion of the rancho, and after tying him hand and foot, left him to his meditations. But he was not destined to remain there long, for Archie fortunately stumbled upon him and released him.

We left the boys struggling with the Ranchero who had come in to satisfy himself that Frank had not yet found means to effect his escape. Archie was holding fast to his legs, and Frank had grasped him by the throat and stifled his cry for help.

“I can hold him now,” said the latter. “Shut that door, and get something to tie him with.”

The ropes with which Frank had been bound were brought into requisition, and in a few seconds, the Mexican, in spite of his furious struggles, was helpless. Archie had shown considerable generalship in the part he had played in this transaction. If the Ranchero had been permitted to return to his friends, he would, of course, have informed them that Frank had been liberated by somebody, and that would have told the Don just where to search for Archie. He knew that Archie was somewhere in the rancho, but thus far he had been unable to get on the track of him. The building was large, the underground rooms and passage-ways numerous, the doors all locked, and as long as the boys could keep their enemies from learning their exact whereabouts, there was little danger of capture.

“Now, then, what is to be done with this fellow?” asked Frank, when his cousin had securely bound the prisoner.

“Let’s give him one for Dick Lewis,” said Archie, brandishing his heavy pistol in the air. “A crack over the head with this would do him a wonderful sight of good.”

“No! no!” exclaimed Frank. “He took no part in that affair.”

“No doubt he would if he had had the chance. Let’s lock him in here, and leave him.”

“He’ll call for help, won’t he?”

“We don’t care if he does. Even if he succeeds in making himself heard through these thick walls, his friends can’t release him until they have cut down one of these doors; and by the time they get that done, we may be out of this den of robbers, and half way home.”

Archie began trying his keys in the lock of of the door, and finally found one that would fit it. Then, after the prisoner had been pulled into one corner, the cousins passed out of the room, locking the door after them.