“You’re talkin’ mighty high,” sneered the leader, “but look out! This matter is none of your affair, and that boy belongs to us!”
“Take me away! Oh, please take me away! They’ll kill me!” sobbed the lad.
There was such a fiery look in the professor’s eye as he leveled his gun at the gang of men that they started back, evidently fearing to be fired upon.
“Come on!” called one. “We’ll get some of the Mexicans and then we’ll see who’s runnin’ things around here!”
With that the gang sneaked out of the door, leaving the boys and the professor master of the situation. Their first act was to unbind the lad, who was almost fainting from pain and fear.
“Are there any more of them?” asked Jerry.
“Yes,” said the boy faintly. “There are a lot of half-breed Mexicans in the gang. They are in a hut about a mile farther up the road, where they keep a lot of horses on a ranch.”
“Then perhaps we’d better get out of here while we have a chance,” said the professor. “We can’t fight a score or more. Let’s take the boy and hurry away.”
“Come on then,” said Jerry. “We’ll get back to the auto. I only hope these men don’t discover it and damage the car.”
But when an attempt to start was made it was found that the boy, who said, in response to an inquiry from Ned, that his name was Tommy Bell, was unable to walk. The ropes bound about his legs had caused the blood to stagnate in the veins.