CHAPTER XXVIII
A PRISONER
"It was just like one of those Western photoplays that sometimes come to the Freeling movie palace, and which Mrs. Cupp, the ogress of Lake-view Hall, does not approve of, and never will let us girls attend if she can help it," sighed Bess ecstatically, later on.
Bess Harley was especially fond of such dramas. And Walter, too, took delight in the imaginative if rather crude pictures of the West as it used to be.
But here was the real thing. Even Nan was held breathless by the tense drama. Rhoda's hints and tales of adventure had not altogether prepared her visitors for anything like this.
Hess Kane must have thought that the situation called for the sudden and stern action he had taken. Of course, Nan Sherwood thought, that snaky-looking Mexican was not wearing those two silver-mounted pistols in his sash just for ornament.
Tom Collins slid out of his saddle at a slight gesture from Kane and went behind the Mexican to disarm him.
"Keep your hands up," he said to the fellow. "Our wrangler ain't gifted much with speech, but he's sure a good shot. Where's the rest of your gang?"
"No understand," said the fellow sullenly.
"Mean to say you are alone?" Tom demanded.
"Si, Senor."
"Where's your horse?"
"I am afoot, Senor."
"Stop it! Don't try any of your Mex. jokes. You afoot, and with them spurs on your shanks?" and the cowboy pointed to the enormous silver spurs on the man's boots.
"That's one of the fellows that stampeded them steers last night," said Frank, with conviction.
The Mexican looked startled. His black eyes shot glances around the group which faced him.
"Look out that we're not ambushed," said Rhoda in a low voice.
"There may be others around."
"We'll keep our eyes open," said Tom easily. "Guess I'll tie this fellow's wrists, just the same."
He removed his neckerchief as he spoke. He twisted it into a string, and suddenly snatched the Mexican's hands behind him. The fellow exploded some objection in his own language, and would have fought Tom, but Kane thrust the weapon he held forward again and the prisoner subsided.
Meanwhile Bess excitedly whispered to the other girls:
"Do you know who I believe he is? I feel sure of it!"
"Who?" Nan and Grace chorused.
"That Juan Sivello that Mexican girl wrote to Rhoda about."
"I had thought of that," said Rhoda, nodding. "It may be."
"And if it is," whispered Bess, thrilling at the thought, "he's got the diagram of the hiding place where his uncle put all that treasure."
"Goodness me!" sighed Grace, "how rich we should all be if we found it."
"It surely would be great," her brother said.
"And that poor Juanita and her mother would get their money back,"
Nan added.
"Risk our Nan for remembering the poor and needy," laughed Bess.
"There are others to think of besides that Mexican girl and her mother," said Rhoda seriously. "According to the tales we have heard about Lobarto's treasure, at least half a dozen families had been robbed by him along the Border. And churches, too.
"Some of the haciendas he burned and destroyed the people in them. They could claim nothing, of course. And he had a lot of other plunder that nobody knew who its actual owners were, so the story goes."
"Poor people!" sighed Nan.
"Say! give us a chance to divide a few millions among us," said the reckless Bess. "Who ever heard of treasure-seekers who were not made rich beyond the dreams of avarice when they found the hoard?"
She had spoken rather loudly. The Mexican glanced up at them suddenly and his eyes flashed. He muttered something under his little, stringy, black mustache.
"Look out, Bess," warned Nan. "He heard you then."
"Well, what of it?" demanded the reckless one. "Aren't the boys going to search him' and find that map Lobarto made?"
"My! but you are a high-handed young lady," chuckled Walter.
"What we going to do with him, now we've got him?" asked Tom
Collins suddenly.
"Daddy ought to see him, don't you think?" said Rhoda confidently.
"Yep," agreed Hess Kane, returning his pistol to its holster.
"Well, now, I reckon that would be the proper caper," said Tom Collins. "Say, hombre," he added, nudging the Mexican, "where's your horse?"
"I am afoot, I tell you," was the reply.
"I can see you are—now," admitted the puncher. "But you'll have a fine walk in those boots to Rose Ranch."
"I will not walk to the Ranchio Rose!"
"Then you'll be dragged," Tom said coolly. "I reckon my little roan can do it."
"No," said Kane. "Put him on the pack mare."
They were all eager to get the young Mexican to Mr. Hammond and see what the shrewd old ranchman could make out of him. The saddle and goods were removed from the pack animal, and cached. For the girls did not intend to give up their treasure-hunting trip—by no means! It was only postponed.
"I'd give a good deal to know what became of the rest of this
Greaser's gang," said Frank, the other cowpuncher.
"After they stampeded them steers, maybe they run away," Tom observed.
They put the prisoner astride the saddleless horse and made their way slowly to the ranch house. It was almost bedtime when they arrived, and the family was much surprised to see them at that hour.
"Well, I swanny!" ejaculated Mr. Hammond, "is this the best you girls could pick up-a Greaser? Do you call him a treasure?"
The prisoner's eyes flashed again as he heard this. He stood by sourly enough while the girls explained more fully to the ranchman.
"All right! All right!" growled Mr. Hammond. "If he is one of those that stampeded the steers, he'll see the inside of the jail. I'd like to catch 'em all."
The visitors made their way to bed as soon as they had eaten their late supper; but Rhoda remained with her father when he questioned the Mexican.
At first the prisoner refused to give any information about himself or his business near Rose Ranch. But being an old hand at that game, Mr. Hammond finally made him see that it would be wiser for him to reply. If he did not wish to get others into trouble, he would better try to save himself.
And it soon appeared that the young Mexican did not feel altogether kindly toward the men who had come over the Border with him—whoever they were. There had been some quarrel, and the others had abandoned him, taking even his horse with them when they did so.
"Were you with them when they ran off the Long Bow stock?" asked
Mr. Hammond.
"That was not done by us. We separated from those thieves of horse-stealers when they would put their necks in jeopardy," the Mexican said in his own tongue, which both Mr. Hammond and Rhoda understood.
"So you kept out of that, heh? Then you rode up this way?"
"Into the hills," said the other sullenly. "The country is free."
"Not to such as you unless you can give a mighty good reason for being over there. You and your friends have cost me more'n a hundred steers."
"Not me!" ejaculated the prisoner, shaking his head.
"No?"
"I tell you they abandoned me. I do not know where they go."
"And what were you hanging about that place over there in the hills for?" demanded Mr. Hammond. "Come, now! Didn't you give your friends the slip because you wanted to hunt for that old hidden treasure?"
"Senor!"
"Never mind denying it," said the ranchman sternly. "And I reckon I can make another guess. You are Lobarto's nephew. Your name is Juan Sivello. I bet there's a warrant out for you in the sheriff's office at Osaka right now, my boy."
The young Mexican jumped up, startled. Mr. Hammond reached out a hand and pushed him back into his seat.
"Sit down, boy. You'd better make a clean breast of it. I want to know all you know about that old bandit's hoard, or you'll go to the sheriffs office with me in the morning. Take your choice."