Part 22 (1/2)

Wallace, who was standing beside Al, turned pale, for he knew not what this might mean for him. He was in uniform and there was no escape, as Yeager immediately pointed to him and continued,

”There's one of 'em. Jerk him up, boys.”

Half a dozen of his men sprang upon Wallace like cats upon a mouse, pulling his arms roughly behind him. Wallace uttered a cry of pain as his wounded arm was twisted.

”Oh, please don't!” he begged. ”My left arm is wounded.”

”The devil it is!” sneered one of the guerillas, giving it an extra twist as he jerked a piece of cord around Wallace's wrists. ”Then it needs exercise to limber it up.”

Al's face turned pale with cold fury. He stepped forward and, before any one could think what he intended doing, his fist shot out into the guerilla's right eye with terrific force, sending him to the deck like a stone.

”You dirty cur!” he growled. ”I'll give you some exercise, too.”

”Don't, Al, don't!” pleaded Wallace, now more frightened for his friend's safety than for his own.

Yeager, paying no attention whatever to the fall of his retainer, fixed his cold eyes on Al as he heard Wallace call him by name.

”I've got it straight,” said he, ”that there's another blue belly on here, not in soldier clothes. His name's Al Briscoe an' he's a friend o' this yere kid,”--indicating Wallace. ”I reckon you're the ticket,” he went on, addressing Al. ”Take him in tow, boys.”

”He's not a soldier,” exclaimed Wallace. ”He's never enlisted.”

”This is Jim's work,” whispered the mate to Captain Lamont. ”n.o.body else would know about Al.”

Captain Lamont repeated Wallace's remonstrance.

”This boy is not a soldier, Captain Yeager,” he declared. ”I know that to be a fact.”

”Well, I got it straight that he is,” persisted Yeager, insolently, ”so you may as well shut up. Take 'em ash.o.r.e,” he went on, to the men who held Al and Wallace by the arms. Then he added, to the others, ”Search the boat.”

”Oh, I'm dreadfully sorry, Al,” moaned Wallace, as they were pushed and kicked out on the bank. ”It's my fault you were taken.”

”No, they'd have found me out, anyway,” Al answered, smiling bravely at his friend. ”I'd a good deal rather stay with you, old man, than to have you face this alone.”

The boys were held on the bank while the guerillas went through the barge, taking what they pleased in the way of food and the clothing of the men. They seized no more prisoners and finally came ash.o.r.e, when Yeager, brandis.h.i.+ng a pistol, shouted to Captain Lamont,

”Now, then, cast off an' git out an' don't stop ner monkey around fer two hours, anyhow, er I'll sink yer rotten old tub an' you with it!”

There was nothing to do but obey, and with many glances of profound regret and apprehension at Al and Wallace, standing guarded by a dozen brawny ruffians on the bank, Captain Lamont and his men shoved the barge off and drifted on down the river. As the boys watched the boat recede in the distance, it seemed to them that they had looked their last upon friendly faces, and that the portals of death were closing upon them as the barge finally disappeared.

When the boat was gone, Yeager turned his attention to his prisoners.

Seating himself under a tree, he regarded them genially and remarked,

”P'utty sporty clothes you got on. I reckon some o' my boys needs them worse 'n you do.”

”Yes, I reckon,” said one of the guerillas, slouching up and leering into Al's face. It was the fellow whom Al had knocked down and he could leer with only one eye for the other was closed and the flesh around it had already turned blue-black in color. He glanced down at Al's shoes, which had been purchased in Kansas City.

”Those look about my size,” said he, comparing them with his own broken-down cowhide boots. ”I'll take them before I shoot you.”

He knelt down and began to unlace one of the shoes. Al's anger and contempt were so great that he had lost all sense of discretion. But he showed his feelings in unusual ways.