The Pony Rider Boys in New Mexico Part 48

Mr. Marquand was inclined to treat the proposition lightly, believing that such a move as proposed by Tad Butler was an impossibility. Kris Kringle, however, was regarding the boy inquiringly. He knew that Tad had some plan in mind and that it was likely to be a good one.

"The rascals are all out in front of the house, aren't they?"

"Yes, Master Tad. There's no reason why they should be behind the house. They know we can't get out that way; because there is no opening on that side."

Tad nodded.

"Then I can do it."

"Tad, what foolish idea have you in mind now? I cannot consent to your taking any more chances."

"Professor, we are taking long enough chances as it is. Unless we are relieved soon, we shall be starved out and perhaps worse."

"What's your plan?" interrupted Kris Kringle.

"See that hole in the roof up there?" Tad pointed.

They had not seen it before, but they did now. A light suddenly dawned upon Kris Kringle.

"Boy, you are the only level-headed one in the outfit. You would have made a corking Indian fighter."

"I'm the Indian fighter," chimed in Stacy.

"You can boost me up to the hole and I'll go over the rear of the house, get to the camp and from there ride to Hondo."

Tad's three companions started a cheer, which the guide sternly put down.

"I can't consent to any such plan," decided the Professor sternly.

The rest reasoned with him until, finally, he did consent, though he knew the lad would be taking desperate chances. Tad understood that as well as the rest of them, but he was burning to be off.

Kris Kringle gave him careful directions as to how to get to the place.

"Take your rifle with you, if you can get it. After you get half a mile or a mile away shoot once. That will tell us you are all right."

"You can help me in getting away from here, if you will do some shooting to cover my escape," suggested Tad.

"That's a good idea," agreed the guide. "You wait on the roof until we begin to rake the sage with our revolvers. Then drop. Take a wide circuit, so that you won't stumble over the enemy."

Tad gave his belt a hitch, stuffed his sombrero under it and announced himself as ready.

The guide stepped under the hole. Tad quickly climbed to his shoulder and stood up like a circus performer. He could easily reach the roof with his hands. A second more and his feet were lifted from the shoulders of the guide. They saw the figure in the opening; then it disappeared.

A slight sc.r.a.ping noise was the only sound they heard.

Tad flattened himself out and wriggled along toward the rear of the roof. Peering over the edge he made sure that there was no one about.

He then lay quietly waiting for the shooting to begin.

"Let 'em have it," directed Kris Kringle.

A sudden fusillade was emptied into the sage brush.

Tad swung himself over the edge of the roof, hung on for a few seconds, then dropped lightly to the ground.

CHAPTER XXIV

CONCLUSION

The enemy answered the shots with a volley, and for a few moments a lot of ammunition was wasted while the odor of gunpowder a.s.sailed nostrils on both sides.

After that, the shooting died away. As the minutes lengthened into an hour, and no word of Tad's mission had been received, the defenders began to grow restless. They were under a double tension now. Mr.

Marquand was pacing up and down the floor.

Suddenly, forgetful of the danger that lurked out there, he poked his head out of the window.

A sharp pat on the stone window frame beside him, after the bullet had snipped off the tip of his left ear, caused Mr. Marquand to draw back suddenly. He stalked about the floor, holding a handkerchief to the wounded ear, "talking in dashes and asterisks," as Chunky put it.

Kris Kringle's face wore a grim smile. He was taking chances of being shot, every second now, but he insisted in holding his place at the side of the window so he could listen and watch.

A thin, fleecy veil covered the moon, but it was not dense enough to fully hide objects on the landscape.

"All keep quiet, now," warned Kris Kringle. "We should get a signal pretty soon."

"I'm afraid something has happened to the boy," muttered the Professor. Then all fell silent.

"There it goes!" exclaimed the guide in a tone of great relief.

The crack of a rifle afar off sounded clear and distinct.

"He's made it. Thank heaven!" breathed Mr. Marquand fervently.

Chunky leaped to the opening, swung his sombrero as he leaned out, and uttered a long, shrill "y-e-o-w!"

A bullet chipped the adobe at his side. Stacy ducked, throwing himself on the floor, sucking a thumb energetically.

"Wing you?" inquired Kris Kringle.

"Somebody burned my thumb," wailed the fat boy.

"It was a bullet that burned you. Served you right too. Somebody tie that boy up or he'll be killed," counseled the guide.

The besiegers could not have failed to hear the shot from Tad's rifle, but it did not seem to disturb them. They evidently did not even dream that one of the party had escaped their vigilance and that he was well on his way for a.s.sistance.

The wait from that time on was a tedious and trying one, though each felt a certain sense of elation that Tad Butler had succeeded in outwitting the enemy.