Part 18 (1/2)
Thus several minutes went by. Tom Halstead, unable to talk, spent his energies in wondering whether Ted Dunstan was anywhere in the near neighborhood.
After many minutes had pa.s.sed the deep silence of this wild spot was broken by an owl hoot. Alvarez, raising his head, answered by a similar hoot. Then from the distance came two hoots.
”Come, we will go forward to meet our friends,” proposed the swarthy little man eagerly, as he sprang to his feet. French got up more lumberingly, though almost as quickly. Together they trod up to the head of the ravine. Out of the darkness ahead came Pedro and a little brown man who looked as much like a Spaniard as Alvarez did.
”We'se done brought yo' dis,” stated Pedro with a grin that showed his big, white teeth.
”This” was Joe Dawson, his hands tied behind him, his face as sullen as a storm cloud in a summer shower. Joe was walking, led by Pedro, and pushed at times by the brown man.
”Ho, ho!” laughed Alvarez, in keen relish. ”You have not done badly. You bring me the other meddling boy. Halt him here-so. Tie him against this tree that he may have a chance to lean.” Alvarez watched until Joe had been moored fast, then asked:
”How many did you come out with to-night?”
”Guess!” proposed Joe pleasantly.
”Don't dare to be impertinent, boy!” warned Don Emilio, his eyes flas.h.i.+ng. ”Answer me straight, and-what do you call it?-to the point, as you Americans say.”
”Lemon?” laughed Joe Dawson coolly. ”No, thank you. I always take vanilla.”
”Boy, if you get me any more angry,” stormed Don Emilio, ”you will regret it.”
But Dawson merely looked at the swarthy, false-bearded little man with an air of boredom.
”Let me handle him,” proposed Jonas French, stepping forward.
”I'll be glad if you will wait on me,” drawled Joe, looking at the larger man. ”I don't believe this little fellow knows his business or his goods.”
With an angered cry Don Emilio darted in, striking his cool tormentor across the face.
”Hold on,” objected Joe lazily, ”I didn't ask to be called until nine o'clock.”
”Are you going to stop this nonsense?” demanded Don Emilio, his voice quavering with wrath.
”Dawson,” remarked French, ”you don't appear to realize your fix.”
Joe stared at him haughtily, remarking:
”My bill is not due until the end of the week. Go away and let me read in peace.”
Pedro, in the background, was holding one hand over his broad mouth to hide his expansive grin over this cool nonsense. But Don Emilio was fast losing his not very certain temper.
”Go and bring that other boy Halstead,” ordered Alvarez. ”When the two of them see each other they'll know their game is up, and they'll come to their senses. If not, nothing will make any difference to them after a few minutes more.”
Without a word French turned, treading down the ravine. Just a little later he reappeared, looking bewildered.
”Alvarez,” he gasped, ”come here. That other boy isn't where we left him. Hurry!”
Uttering an exclamation of amazement, Alvarez darted after his friend.