Part 6 (2/2)
”It makes my head swim.”
”I should think it would,” said Jo, sarcastically, ”considering the amount you have drunk.”
”You weren't far behind,” grumbled Tom. ”I thought that you were not going to leave enough for the horses.”
”I don't especially like this place to camp in,” said Jim. ”We are not accustomed to get in a pocket like this. But it is too late to pull out tonight and the horses need a rest, so we will keep guard.”
”Better drown the brown rat first,” remarked Juarez to Jim. But the latter only shook his head and laughed.
The camp was made about twenty feet east of the spring in a small grove of slender trees backed by a high wall of steep granite, down which poured a waterfall in the rainy season.
The fire was built upon a flat rock in the centre of the grove where there was no danger of it catching in the gra.s.s and bushes which were dry as tinder. If once a mountain fire was started at the end of the dry season there would be no stopping it until it had devastated the whole country.
The light of the fire showed the usual cheery and active scene that goes with making camp. How many times the Frontier Boys had gone through these preparations it is impossible to say. They had camped on the plains of Kansas, in the mountains of Colorado, on the Mesas of New Mexico, the banks of the Colorado river, and the Pampas of Mexico. Now we find them in the coast range of California.
It was not an especially dangerous country in which they were camped, nothing to compare with parts of Colorado and Mexico, but never were they in greater danger than at the present moment and this camp promised to be their last together, except they had unusual luck.
There was a traitor in the company, and even now four pairs of hostile eyes were watching them as they moved in the light of the fire. The Captain of the Sea Eagle and his three trusty men were hidden in some bushes at the top of the pocket on the western side.
Juarez and Jim busied themselves first in looking after their horses.
Removing the saddles they rubbed down each animal thoroughly, clear to the fetlocks and then gave them a good feed of grain. Jo and Tom were on the supper committee and busying themselves making preparations for a square meal. Manuello, who had been with the boys on the other side of the range and was accustomed to help in odd ch.o.r.es about camp, now offered to aid in getting the supper.
”I will make the coffee with your permission, Senor Jo,” he proposed.
”Do you savvy it all right, Manuello?” inquired Jo.
”Ah, yes, Senor. I can make such coffee as the Holy Father would be pleased to drink,” he replied with fervor.
”Not too strong because it keeps me awake,” protested Tom.
”No, no, Senor Thomas,” replied Manuello with a sweeping bow, ”the coffee I make is very soothing. It will give you a long, soft sleep.”
There was an undertone of subtle irony that was entirely lost upon the two straightforward boys.
”That's a good fellow, Manuello,” said Jo, cordially, and he handed the coffee pot filled with water to the Mexican, who went about the preparation of it with a deftness that showed that he knew what he was about. Not one of the boys saw him slip a white powder into the coffee pot. It quickly dissolved and the coffee began to bubble innocently enough under the eyes of the hunchback Manuello.
Juarez and Jim just then came back from looking after the horses which were fastened near the wall of rock. As soon as Juarez saw the Mexican watching over the coffee pot, his eyes narrowed with suspicion.
”Who made the coffee?” he asked Jo, bluntly.
”Manuello,” replied Jo.
”The Senor will find the coffee truly delicious,” said the hunchback with a bow, ”only the Mexican knows how to keep its aroma when boiling it.”
”Humph,” grunted Juarez, and he went deliberately to the fire and lifted the coffee pot off and poured its contents on the ground.
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