Frank Among The Rancheros Part 17

"By gracious!" exclaimed Archie, stopping for the hundredth time to rest, and feeling of a severe bruise on his cheek which he had received in his last fall, "I am completely tired out. And this is all the work of that Benedict Arnold! Didn't I say that we should see trouble with that fellow? If I were out on clear ground, and had my horse and gun, I'd be willing to forgive him for what he has done to me, but I'll always remember that he struck Johnny over the head, when he was tied, and could not defend himself."

Wiping the big drops of perspiration from his forehead, and panting loudly after his violent exertions, Archie again toiled up the mountain, so weary that he could scarcely drag one foot after the other. He stumbled over logs, fell upon the rocks, and dragged himself through bushes that cut into his tattered garments like a knife. Hour after hour pa.s.sed in this way, and, finally, just as the sun was rising, Archie, faint with thirst, aching in every joint, and bleeding from numerous wounds, stepped upon a broad, flat bowlder, which formed the summit of the cliff.

On his right, between him and a huge rock that rose for fifty feet without a single break or crevice, was a narrow but deep chasm which ran down the cliff he had just ascended, and into which he had more than once been in imminent danger of falling as he stumbled about in the darkness. Far below him was the glade, a thin wreath of smoke rising from the smouldering camp-fire, and on his left was the gorge, a hundred times more frightful in his eyes now than it had ever seemed before. In front of him the mountain sloped gently down to the valley below, its base clothed with a thick wood, which at that height looked like an unbroken ma.s.s of green sward, and beyond that, so far away that it could be but dimly seen, was a broad expanse of prairie, from which arose the whitewashed walls of his uncle's rancho. It was a view that would have put an artist into ecstasies, but the fugitive was in no mood to appreciate it. He had no eye for the beauties of nature then--he had other things to think of; and he regarded the picturesque mountains and rocks, and the luxuriant woods, as so many grim monsters that stood between him and his home.

But Archie could not remain long inactive. After all the dangers he had incurred, and the bruises and scratches he had received, he had accomplished but little. He was still thirty miles from home, hungry and thirsty, and pursued by crafty enemies, who might even then be watching him from some secret covert.

"Oh, if I were only there!" said he, casting a longing glance toward the rancho, whose inmates, just then sitting down to a dainty breakfast, little dreamed how much good a small portion of their bounty would have done the fugitive on the mountain-top. "But, as the rancho can't come to me, I must go to it."

Archie found the descent of the mountain comparatively easy. There were not so many bushes and logs to impede his progress, the slope was more gradual, and he had not gone more than half a mile when he found a cool spring bubbling out from under the rocks. He bathed his hands and face, drank a little of the water, and when he set out again he felt much refreshed. He followed the course of the stream, which ran from the spring down the mountain, keeping a bright lookout for enemies all the while, and stopping now and then to listen for sounds of pursuit, when suddenly, as he came around the base of a rock, he found himself on the brink of the gorge, and confronted by a figure in buckskin, who stood leaning on a long, double-barrel shot-gun. Archie started back in dismay, and so did the boy in buckskin, who turned pale, and gazed at the fugitive as if he were hardly prepared to believe that he was a human being. He speedily recovered himself, however, and after he had let down the hammer of his gun, which he had c.o.c.ked when the ragged apparition first came in sight, he dropped the b.u.t.t of the weapon to the ground, exclaiming:

"Archie Winters!"

"Benedict Arnold!"

For a moment the two boys stood looking at each other without moving or speaking. Archie was wondering if it were possible for him to effect the capture of the traitor, and Arthur, while he gazed in astonishment at the fugitive's tattered garments and b.l.o.o.d.y face, was chuckling to himself, and enjoying beforehand the punishment he had resolved to inflict upon Archie. The opportunity he had wished for so long had arrived at last.

"I have found you, have I?" said Arthur, resting his elbows on the muzzle of his gun, and looking at Archie with a triumphant smile.

"Well, suppose you have; what do you propose to do about it?"

"It is my intention to teach you to respect a gentleman the next time you meet one."

[Ill.u.s.tration]

"How are you going to do it?"

"In the first place, by giving you a good beating."

"Humph!" said Archie, contemptuously, looking at Arthur from head to foot, as if he were taking his exact measure. "It requires a boy with considerable 'get up' about him to do that."

"None of your impudence, you little Yankee," exclaimed Arthur, angrily.

"I'm going to take some of it out of you before you are two minutes older."

When the traitor selected Archie as the one upon whom he could wreak his vengeance without danger to himself, he had made a great mistake. Archie was smaller than most boys of his age, but, after all, he was an antagonist not to be despised. He was courageous, active, and as wiry as an eel; and his body, hardened by all sorts of violent exercise, was as tough as hickory. He trembled a little when he looked over into the gorge, and thought of the possible consequences of an encounter on that cliff, but he was not the one to save himself by taking to his heels, nor did it come natural to him to stand still and take a whipping as long as he possessed the strength to defend himself. A single glance was enough to convince him that the traitor was in earnest, and Archie watched the opportunity to begin the struggle himself.

"Yes, sir," continued Arthur, "I've got you now just where I want you. I am going to settle this little difference between us, and then I shall take you back to Pierre. If you have any apologies to make, I am willing to listen to them."

The effect of these words not a little astonished the traitor. He had been sure that Archie would be terribly frightened, and that he would either seek safety in flight, or beg hard for mercy; consequently, he was not prepared for what really happened. Scarcely had Arthur ceased speaking, when the place where Archie was standing became suddenly vacant, and, before the traitor could move a finger, his gun was torn from his grasp and pitched over the cliff into the gorge. As the weapon fell whirling through the air, both barrels were discharged, and the reports awoke a thousand echoes, which reverberated among the mountains like peals of thunder.

"Now we are on equal terms," exclaimed Archie, as he clasped the traitor around the body and attempted to throw him to the ground. "You remember that you struck Johnny last night, when he was bound, hand and foot, and couldn't defend himself, don't you?"

"Yes; and now I am going to serve you worse than that," replied Arthur, who, although surprised and taken at great disadvantage by the suddenness of the attack, struggled furiously, and to such good purpose that he very soon broke Archie's hold; "I am going to fling you over the cliff after that gun."

The contest that followed was carried on on the very edge of the precipice, and was long and desperate. Archie, bruised and battered in a hundred places, and weary with a night's travel, was scarcely a match for the fresh and vigorous Arthur, who, in his blind rage, seemed determined to fulfill his threat of throwing him over the cliff after the gun. Fortune favored first one and then the other; but Archie's indomitable courage and long wind carried the day, and he finally succeeded in bearing his antagonist to the ground and holding him there.

"You are not going to throw me over, are you?" gasped Arthur, who was humble enough, now that he had been worsted.

"Do you take me for a savage?" panted Archie, in reply. "I simply wanted to save myself from a whipping that I did not deserve, and I've done it.

Now you must go to the settlement with me, to"--

"Here you are!" exclaimed a familiar voice. "Let us see if you will escape me again."

Archie looked up, and saw Antoine Mercedes advancing upon him.

CHAPTER XVIII.

CONCLUSION.

Archie had been so fully occupied with the traitor that he had not thought of his other enemies, and for a moment he lay upon the ground beside his antagonist, gazing at Antoine in speechless amazement.

Resistance, of course, was not to be thought of, and it also seemed useless to make any attempts at escape; for he had been so nearly exhausted by his struggle with Arthur, that he scarcely possessed the power to rise from the ground. "I am caught easy enough," thought he, "and I might as well give up first as last."

"I see before me twenty thousand dollars," said Antoine, hastily coiling up his la.s.so as he approached.

These words acted like a spur upon Archie's flagging spirits. He no longer thought of surrender: on the contrary, almost before he knew it, he found himself on his feet and going down the mountain like the wind.

"_Carrajo!_" yelled the Ranchero, swinging his la.s.so around his head.

Archie was afraid of that la.s.so, for he knew that he was in danger as long as he was within reach of it; but fortunately he had been too quick for Antoine. He heard the lariat whistle through the air behind him, and snap like a whip close to his ear, and then he knew that his enemy had missed his mark.

"Santa Maria!" shouted the robber. "Stop, you young vagabond, or I'll shoot you."

The fugitive was not frightened by this threat. He was not afraid of being shot, nor did he believe that he could be overtaken in a fair race; for, now that he got started, he found that he had wind enough left for a long run. He had lived among the Rancheros long enough to know that they were very poor marksmen, and that they could not boast of their swiftness of foot; and, having escaped the la.s.so, his spirits rose again, and hope lent him wings. He heard Antoine crus.h.i.+ng through the bushes in pursuit, but the sound grew fainter and fainter as he sped on his way. He jumped over rocks and logs, and cleared ravines that at almost any other time would have effectually checked his progress, and when he reached the thick woods at the base of the mountains, the Ranchero was out of sight and hearing.

Archie was well aware of the fact that he had now reached the most dangerous part of his route homeward. The chief had ordered the band to "scatter out" when they reached the end of the pa.s.s, and he knew that every road that led toward the settlement was closely watched. He knew, also, that his only chance for escape was to avoid these roads and keep in the thickest part of the woods. He sat down behind some bushes to rest for a few moments, and then started on again, sometimes creeping on his hands and knees, making use of every log and rock to cover his retreat, and stopping frequently to examine the woods in front of him, and to listen for sounds of pursuit. He had accomplished about a mile in this way, when he found himself in one of the numerous bridle-paths that ran through the mountains in every direction, and, what was worse, he saw the scowling visage of Pierre Costello arise from behind a log not ten paces from him. With the same glance he saw something else; and that was a crouching figure in buckskin, which was creeping stealthily toward the robber.

"Here's one caught," said Pierre, stepping into the path and walking toward Archie. "None of your tricks, now; you can't escape."

"I don't intend to try," replied Archie, with a boldness that astonished the robber. "Your game is up, Mr. Pierre, and I advice you to surrender quietly, if you don't want to get hurt!"

"What!" exclaimed the Ranchero. "Surrender! If you know what you are about, you will not offer any resistance. I am a desperate man."

The robber spoke these words boldly enough, but he evidently did not like the looks of things. He gazed earnestly at Archie, as if trying to determine what it was that had encouraged him to show so bold a front, and seeing that he held one hand behind him, Pierre came to the conclusion that he must, by some means, have secured possession of a revolver.

"Drop that weapon, and hold your arms above your head," said the robber.

Archie did not move. While he appeared to be looking steadily at the chief, he was really watching the movements of the figure in buckskin, which had all this while been working its way quickly, but noiselessly, through the bushes, and had now approached within a few feet of the Ranchero.

"Did you hear what I said?" demanded the latter, placing his hand on one of his revolvers. "You are my prisoner."

"Well, then, why don't you come and take me?" asked Archie.

At this moment a slight rustling in the leaves caught the quick ear of the robber, who turned suddenly, uttered a cry of alarm, and fled down the path, closely followed by something that to Archie looked like a gray streak, so swiftly did it move. But it was not a gray streak--it was d.i.c.k Lewis, who, after a few of his long strides, collared the Ranchero with one hand and threw him to the ground, and with the other seized the revolver he was trying to draw, and wrested it from his grasp. Pierre struggled desperately, but to no purpose, for the trapper handled him as easily as though he had been a child.

"Now, then, you tarnal Greaser," exclaimed d.i.c.k, "your jig's danced, an'