Part 27 (2/2)

”You boys come with me,” called the Captain gruffly.

”How about me, Cap'n?” asked Jeems Howell, the lanky shepherd.

”What's your business?” inquired Captain Broom briefly.

”Looking after the sheeps.”

”Then attend to it,” said the Captain grimly.

”Certainly, Cap'n,” replied the shepherd, who was incapable of taking offense.

”You come, Jake,” called the Captain, to one of the sailors, ”and be quick about it, we haven't much time.” Tom s.h.i.+vered, for in the gloom and tired as he was he felt that his time too was short.

Then with the Captain in the lead, carrying a lantern, which was m.u.f.fled in his great coat, they started, the sailor bringing up the rear.

”Look out sharp, that these lads don't spring something on you, Jake.

They are a bad lot.”

”Aye, aye, sir,” replied the sailor, ”they'll have to be quick to get the jump on me, sir.”

”It's the Injun one's the worst. Don't let him scalp you,” warned the Captain jocosely.

”I'm no Indian,” said Juarez, hoa.r.s.ely and utterly reckless of his fate, ”I'm an American, and was proud of it, till I found you were one, you cursed yankee barnacle.”

”Ho, ho, lad!” roared the Captain, ”you won't talk so tall in a few minutes. Nothing like a slow fire for stewing the nonsense out of a fresh kid.”

”How far is this cave of yours, you are taking us to, old salt horse?”

said Juarez insolently, and utterly unwise.

This was too much for Captain Broom, and with an imprecation he turned to strike Juarez. This was what Juarez was looking for and as the furious Skipper whirled facing him, Juarez dodged his huge fist, and sent a fierce hook to the Captain's jaw. There was anger, desperation and strength behind that blow and the Captain fell, striking his head on a rock. That time the Frontier Boys scored.

”Follow me, Tom,” yelled Juarez, and he sprang away through the darkness. It seemed like a hopeless undertaking to make an escape with the sea on one side and the cliffs on the other, and a desperate enemy near at hand. But Juarez thought it was best to take a chance. Anything was better than captivity, that was seemingly just ahead of them.

One thing he was determined on and that was, that he would not be taken alive. He ran splas.h.i.+ng through the water, leaping rocks, with the two sailors in fast pursuit. Not far ahead to the right was the white dash of the breakers that shut off escape in that direction, to the left was the cliffs.

Then before him rose a steep but not precipitous rock that had been divided from the main cliff by the action of the water. Instantly Juarez abandoned his desperate plan of plunging into the sea, and without lessening his speed, he sprang up the rock, in his moccasined feet.

The sailor who was following most closely, got up ten feet when he slipped and rolled violently to the bottom, knocking down the one who came after. Once Juarez came near falling but he caught himself, and kept going up, driven by a desperation that seemed to carry him over every obstacle.

”We've got yer, ye little shrimp,” exultantly cried the sailors at the base of the rock, ”Ye can't get away unless you fly.”

”Shoot the blasted little varmint,” roared the Captain, who, still dizzy, had struggled to his feet. In obedience to the order a flash punctured the darkness and there was a roar like artillery echoing among the hollow cliffs. A slug of lead whistled past Juarez's head.

The boy had now reached the top of the rock and was at the crisis of his fate, a distance of ten feet separated him from the main cliff, not an impossible jump but the foothold was precarious and uncertain, and fifty feet or more below were the jagged rocks, and enemies equally as hard, but Juarez did not hesitate.

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