Part 2 (2/2)
Everything seemed smooth sailing now, as there was no more barbed wire to be immediately met but Pete soon made himself prominent again. He was rolling along with that gait peculiar to a sailor when aboard land, when he gave a sudden spring and clutched Cales convulsively in the back, giving that individual a big scare.
”Dad burn it, boys. I've stepped on a rattler.” An investigation was made very carefully and Captain Broom quickly picked up a short piece of rope.
”I'll rattle you,” he cried, touching up the old man with the rope's end.
CHAPTER IV
PETE'S YARN
They went along steadily through the darkness in an almost directly easterly direction. Being now clear of the brush they could make good time on the springy turf.
”How far are we now from the ranch, Pete?” inquired Jack.
”Too durn close to suit me,” replied Pete. ”I can't tell exactly for these ranches are as big as all outside creation, but I guess we must be as close as a mile to the buildings.”
”I reckon the Captain is going to walk up to the front door and ask for accommodations.”
”Wouldn't s'prise me a bit, if he done that,” replied Pete querulously.
”The old man ain't lacking in nerve. Back thar was the first time I ever seen him hang back in my long experience with him.”
”When the old lady was speaking her piece? Suppose I ask him how much he made when he captured the Senor,” suggested Cales, who had recovered his flippant humor.
”I wouldn't git gay, lad,” said old Pete, warningly. ”She is just as liable to haunt you in your black spells.”
”Don't have 'em, uncle,” replied Cales.
”You collect the material for 'em when you are young,” said the old man wisely, ”and they come out of your bones like rheumatiz when you git old.”
”Somebody is coming back of us,” suddenly whispered Cales.
”Take to cover, lads,” ordered the skipper, who was as quick to hear as the younger man. The only cover was a high and thick growth of wild mustard growing alongside the fences.
Quickly they stepped from the open road into the shelter of the tall mustard. They had not long to wait. There was the jingle of spurs and the thud of horses' feet walking slowly along. Next came the voices of men talking.
”It is useless, Senor, to try and find her, I fear,” replied one man to the other.
”It seems so,” replied the other sadly. ”My mother always seems to be worse when the time of the year approaches that my father disappeared.
In spite of all our care she will escape.”
They had now arrived at a point opposite where the free-booters were hidden. The man who had last spoken struck a light and lit a cigarette; the instantaneous glare showed the dark handsome face of the Spanish type. There was the high-peaked sombrero, the striking clothes, the intent face and then the light died suddenly out.
”Ah, Manuel,” said the young man to his companion, ”if I could only once lay hands on that cursed Gringo,” and he ground his teeth in fury, unable to express himself.
”Humph, Gringo,” grunted the Captain, disdainfully.
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