Part 25 (2/2)

Then they went at it hammer and tongs, giving and receiving good hard blows, and after ten minutes of whaling at each other, both were plenty warm. The Spaniard looked on in mild wonder.

”You Americans love the hard exercise,” he said. ”I should think you would have great pleasure in resting awhile.”

”I got the best of the bout,” declared Jo. ”See how black and blue your face is on this side.”

”You didn't do that,” protested Jim. ”That was a wallop that old Neptune handed me when he b.u.mped my head against yonder cliff.”

”Neptune! Yonder cliff!” jeered Jo. ”You ought to be a story writer and use fine words.”

”Me a story writer!” growled Jim. ”I ain't got so low as that, not so long as I have got two hands to steal chickens with.”

CHAPTER XXVII

ANOTHER FRIEND

”Do you not think, Senor Darlington, that it is now safe to start?”

inquired the Spaniard, who was fearful of bloodshed, not quite understanding the boys.

”Certainly,” responded Jim, ”we will get Don Fernando down from his perch and proceed.”

This proved to be an easier task than getting him up. His master lowered by the rope to his side, one scrambling leap and the horse was on the firm wet sand of the beach, almost knocking his master over in his eagerness to be on safe footing again. Don Sebastian now showed the gay side of his nature, as he vaulted into the saddle.

He swung his hat wildly, the blood mounting to his face, and the horse seemed to feel the sting and excitement of his master's mood, as he pranced, danced and caracoled upon the sand and ended up by bowing in unison with his master to the two American lads, who were looking on with interest and amus.e.m.e.nt.

Then the party made their way quickly along the curve of the beach and went around the fateful headland with perfect safety, while quite a distance out among the hidden rocks snarled the defeated ocean. Then Caliente heard them coming and he quickly raised his head, neighing in welcome to Jim and his comrade, Don Fernando.

Jim gave him a vigorous hug for more than ever he was fond of his faithful horse. In a few minutes he had him saddled and away the three hors.e.m.e.n thudded in a swift gallop down the beach. The horses fairly flew, the wind of their speed tossing their manes back. It was cool beneath the fog laden sky and the refres.h.i.+ng sea air seemed to give the horses tireless endurance.

Soon three miles had spun backwards under their hoofs and the boys were filled with the joyous excitement of the run. It seemed now that every stride of the horses was bringing them nearer to the hoped-for rescue of Tom and Juarez. And this was an incentive to their energy.

”Here, friends, is where we branch off from the beach,” cried the Spaniard.

Then he turned his horse to the left and headed straight for a wooded spur that extended from the range to the sh.o.r.e. In a short time the three came to a well-traveled trail and were soon riding through the semi-dusk of the woods. For two miles they went up a steady grade.

Then they rounded the summit of the wooded ridge and saw stretching far below them in the indistinct dusk, a wide plain bounded on the West by the blue darkness of the level sea with its rim of yellow sand.

”We will soon be at the home of my friend, Senor Valdez,” said the Spaniard, ”where we will spend the night.”

”I'm a lovely looking object to present itself in a civilized home,”

protested Jim, ”I look like a tough who has been in a bar-room rush.”

”You are my brave friend,” said Senor Sebastian, quietly, ”and will be welcome.”

Jim blushed, at least one side of his face did, the other was already too deeply colored to show any emotion, and he grinned sheepishly.

Before he had time to reply they swept into an open driveway, carefully sanded, and drew rein in front of a long, low white adobe house, that from its mountain terrace looked over Plain and Sea.

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