THE WHISTLE OF PASSING BULLETS.
"They seem to be gaining on us!" said Merritt uneasily. "Hadn't we better romp ahead a little faster, boys?"
"Sure! Hit up the pace all you want!" It was neither Rob nor Andy who made this game reply, but Tubby! This response drew Rob's heart closer to the fat chum than ever before. A fellow who could show such nerve would have the best chance in the world to become a first-class scout, when once he woke up and began to study as he should.
They proceeded to coax their horses to pick up some, and for a time the gallant animals did manage more than to hold their own with the pursuers; but when half an hour had passed even Tubby could see that the distance separating them from that hustling lot of hard riders did not appear to be quite as great as after the spurt.
"Say, do we fight for it if we are cornered?" Andy wanted to know. When the patrol leader turned to glance back at him, he saw that while the boy's face might be somewhat pale, there was a dogged look around the eyes that spoke volumes.
"Well, they say that Boy Scouts never should fight unless driven into a corner, where they have to defend themselves to save their own lives, or the lives of others," Rob shouted back.
"That settles it, then," Andy replied. And Rob could see that considerable of his anxiety must have been connected with his doubt as to whether it should be their duty as lovers of peace to give up and surrender without striking a blow, or resist; for he even seemed tickled with what Rob had told him.
No one asked Tubby what he thought about matters. It was enough for them to know that the fat and clumsy chum was there in his saddle still, and managing by some means to keep close behind them. His horse must have suffered exceedingly, bearing all that heavy load; and it was lucky Rob had been wise enough to select an especially sturdy beast when thinking of Tubby.
The pursuers were not all in a bunch, but scattered, according to the ability of their mounts to maintain the killing pace. Undoubtedly, they were urged on by the big cruel Mexican spurs, which, of course, every cavalryman wore on his boot heels.
This might seem to be a trifling matter; but Rob knew better. If it really came to a running fight, as seemed likely, they would profit by the fact that only a minority of their pursuers could fire upon them, the rest being either too far off, or else fearful lest they might hit their comrades in advance.
Meanwhile they were approaching the big smoke that kept rising ahead, and which must mean a burning bridge on the railroad, and perhaps a stalled train into the bargain.
Rob found himself wondering what sort of reception they would receive should they find a party of Villa's rebels holding out against the Regulars. He had already laid his plans and communicated them to his chums, so that each would know just what was expected of him in the emergency.
Already several shots had been fired by the leading horsemen, but as they were still pretty far distant, and as it is next to impossible to do any serious business with a gun while going at such headlong speed, of course these were sent after the fugitives more as an act of bravado and alarm, than in the hope that any bullet might find its mark.
At the same time it was not very pleasant for the scouts to hear those leaden messengers singing so merrily through the air over their heads,—for all the world like so many bees or locusts, as they afterward decided.
Every time a gun sounded, Tubby involuntarily ducked his head and tried to flatten himself out on the neck of his horse, an utterly impossible thing, on account of his build. He seemed to think that they must always pick him out for a target, because he offered such a fine mark.
"Guess you'd do the same, too," he called out to Andy, when he saw the grin on the other's face as he turned in time to see one of these performances, "if you made a shining mark like I do! And being in the rear adds to my chance of stopping one of those lead pills. Anyway, I'm going to do the trick right along, no matter what you think, Andy Bowles!"
"And you're right about that, Tubby!" called Merritt. "Even when you lie down flat you make a better mark than most of us do sitting up!"
"Keep your breath, fellows; you may need all of it!" Rob called out just then, and this stopped the controversy.
Rob urged his horse alongside that of the Mexican guide.
"How are we going to come out of it, Lopez?" he asked anxiously. "Will they get at us before we make the smoke?"
The experienced eye of the other had before now accurately measured the distances; and doubtless he was figuring matters out at the time the scout broke in with this leading question.
"If no bad luck," Lopez assured him, "we surely come to the burning bridge before the wolf pack doubles us up, young señor."
"By bad luck you mean an accident?" Rob demanded.
Lopez shrugged his shoulders and cast a swift, meaning look back at poor fat Tubby, who was belaboring his tired mount with the flat of one hand, and urging the beast on and on. Evidently the guide had been half expecting an accident to happen in this quarter for some time, and was, in fact, surprised that the clumsy scout had held on so long; but then, he did not know what a stubborn nature Tubby possessed.
"Si, señor, a horse might slip, and toss his rider; or it may be a passing bullet happen to go in the wrong place and do damage. Who can tell? But let us hope it will not so bad as that prove. We are doing well; and the smoke, it is not so far away as it seems!"
All of which must have been poor satisfaction to Rob, who from that moment found himself enduring new agonies every time he twisted around to see whether Tubby still held forth.
The horses were reeking with sweat, and while Rob did not pretend to be as experienced in such matters as a cow puncher would be, still even he understood that this sort of thing could not be kept up much longer.
Only for the presence of that smoke and the hope that they might run upon some friendly rebels at the burning bridge, he would have made up his mind that there was no other way for them to escape save by turning at bay and engaging in a regular fight with those persistent pursuers, who kept dogging the heels of their horses mile after mile, bent on running them down.
"What do you think of our chances for finding some of Villa's men ahead?" Rob asked the guide several minutes later. They were still keeping up a furious pace and fairly holding their own, though none of the horses in the race could be said to be running as fast as half an hour previously.
"It is an open chance," Lopez replied with another shrug.
"But the Federals set the bridge on fire; and after doing that they would hardly hang around, because this part of the country must be swarming with rebels, who would be drawn to the burning bridge by the smoke. Is that the way you figure it out, Lopez?"
"You have said what was in my mind, young señor," came the reply; "and that is why I have kept moving on all this while. Had it not been the hope of finding friends, before now they must have felt our lead."
"Then we're doing the right thing in trying to get to the bridge before letting them come up on us," Rob decided. And after that he bent his whole energy to carrying out the plan he had arranged.
He even fell back so that he could ride alongside Tubby; for Rob had often heard that no chain can be any stronger than its weakest link; and this must surely mean Tubby, in their case. If any accident befell the party, the chances were as ten to one it would spring from the fat scout.
And so Rob, believing in being prepared to meet things as they come along, even went so far as to figure out just what his course of action must be in case Tubby gave signs of falling off his horse, or the animal tripped in its headlong flight.
"It's only a little further, Tubby, so try your best to hold out!" he kept saying. "See, there's a spur of the hill jutting out, and the railroad comes around that. On the other side must be the Carmen River, where the bridge that is burning crosses. Just one more push and we'll be there in great shape. You're doing fine, I want to tell you, Tubby; I never thought you had it in you; and we're bound to get through this ride all right, believe me!"
No doubt this sort of encouraging talk did more than a little to keep Tubby from throwing up the sponge entirely; for he was close upon the point of complete exhaustion, and ready to own himself "all in."
"Try to think and tell me, Tubby," Rob went on earnestly, "where you've got those signal flags you brought all the way down here, because you said they might come in handy. I can use one right now, I believe."
"Reach in that pocket on the side of my bag toward you, Rob," replied Tubby in a gasping whisper. "You ought to find the lot there."
This Rob managed to do in spite of the fact that both horses were galloping at headlong speed.
Just then they cleared the point of the hill that jutted out close to the railroad track; and there in front of them lay the cause of the big smoke. The bridge was afire, just as they had believed. There was also a train stalled on the side near them, with its engine headed toward Juarez. Doubtless this was the one of which the boys had heard, which, starting from Chihuahua, laden with refugee Mexican families wanting to seek shelter over in Texas, had been lost somewhere on the way, held up by burned bridges, and possibly by other things in the way of damage done to the locomotive by the Federal's marauding cavalry parties.
As soon as Rob could manage to see what lay ahead, he felt cheered by the sight; for behind the cars he discovered dozens of men with guns, who seemed to be making a barrier of the train and exchanging long distance shots with some enemy perched upon the higher ground, undoubtedly Federals.
There seemed nothing for the scouts to do but to join their fortunes with those men of Villa's command who were holding the Regulars at bay. So, without slackening the speed of their horses a particle, the little party galloped forward, Rob leading the van and wildly waving one of the signal flags, which, being white with a small red center, could be looked upon as a flag of truce, and would surely keep the rebels from firing on them.
It must have astonished those fellows who were making a rampart of the stalled train to discover thus a party wearing khaki uniforms so like those of the American soldiers across the border, coming at headlong speed toward them, and being fired after by a pack of pursuers whom they readily recognized to be the regular troops of Huerta!
And since all enemies of the prevailing government must be looked on as friends to their cause, the Constitutionalists, as the rebels liked to call themselves, made no attempt to halt the advance of the Boy Scouts. They held their fire, waiting until the hard-pressed fugitives could reach shelter, when explanations might be in order.
But the unseen Regulars perched among the rocks on the hillside must have discovered that those they were engaged in fighting seemed to be receiving unexpected reinforcements, for they turned their attention to the oncoming riders, and once more the nerve-racking zip-zip of passing bullets gave Tubby a cold chill.