Part 7 (2/2)

There aren't enough men in La Nogalique to cope with them except troopers come. And they're far enough off.”

”Just give in, and hope for the best. But don't let them separate us--whatever--whatever you have to do.”

There was a catch in the girl's voice, but this was the only evidence of fear she had shown. She was a true ”sport.”

”But what do you suppose their game is?” asked Floyd, and during this talk between brother and sister, the Yaqui leader, stood regarding them quizzically.

”I don't know,” Rosemary answered. ”This is just one of their periodical raids, I guess, and they have just added us to their list.

But we'll have to do as they tell us--at least for the time being.

Help me down, Floyd.”

He a.s.sisted her out of the car. Paz, smiling--or perhaps grinning would be the better word--came toward them, and motioned with his hand toward the gun Floyd had put up.

”You don't get it,--Paz unless you want the business end!” snapped out Floyd, and his hand edged toward the weapon with no mistake in his meaning.

In an instant he was ”covered” by the gun in the hand of the Indian, and Rosemary changed the scream she had started to utter to the advice:

”Give it up, Floyd! They haven't seen mine and don't know I have one.

Maybe I can get by with it!”

Floyd almost sighed as he pa.s.sed over his weapon, b.u.t.t first, in the accepted style of surrendering. Paz grinned again, and motioned to his men to come up. One of them began loosening a lariat at his saddle horn.

”They're going to make prisoners of us,” said Floyd.

”Never mind! There'll be some way out,” whispered Rosemary.

CHAPTER VII

INTO THE MOUNTAINS

Disreputable ragam.u.f.fins as they appeared, the Yaquis were quick enough to put their captives in a position to render them almost helpless.

Though the Mexican Indians do not seem to have the picturesqueness and skill of the outdoors possessed by the North American Indians, still they knew how to knot their lariats about Rosemary and Floyd, and so tie them on spare horses that it would have been no easy task to escape.

Aside from rude hands bundling her about, no insult was offered Rosemary; and though Floyd was not treated so gently he was not actually mistreated. Rosemary was not searched, and her automatic remained in a hidden pocket, where, if need be, she could quickly reach it.

Floyd's gun was taken away, and all the money he carried loose in his pockets. But he had been wise enough when starting out on this trip, to make a secret pocket in his vest, and this now held a goodly sum which the Indians overlooked. Of course a more careful search would reveal it, as it would Rosemary's gun.

Paz, speaking in Spanish, detailed several men to guard the prisoners and then, taking his place at the head of his band, he led them back down the trail.

”Say, what does this mean?” asked Floyd of his sister. ”He's going right back down among men that ought to be our friends. If there are any town officials there, or a soldier or two, they ought to save us.”

”I'm afraid there isn't, though,” the girl answered. ”If there had been the lone cowboy wouldn't have ridden for help. And the fighting is still going on.”

The sound of shooting was resumed as she spoke, and shouts and yells came to Floyd's ears. He began to understand what had happened, his surmise being borne out, later, by the facts.

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