With another of the linen strips, Frank wiped the blood away from the wound in Mr. Hampton’s shoulder, discovering that the bullet had entered from the rear, where there was only a bluish mark that already had stopped bleeding, and had come out in front. “No sir, didn’t smash the bone,” he said, thankfully, as with deft fingers he felt of the wounded man’s shoulder. “You were in luck, Mr. Hampton.”
“I was that,” the other answered. “Came on them just as they were leaving. But here’s Captain Murray, wanting to hear my story,” he added glancing up at the aviator, who, striding across the room, was now bending anxiously above him. “I don’t know all that happened, Captain,” he said. “But between our friends over there and myself, I guess we can piece the yarn together.”
CHAPTER XIX.
CAPTAIN CORNELL STRIKES A CLEW.
After that it did not take long for the truth to come out. And Captain Murray’s impatience to be gone rather than risk staying where the police of Nueva Laredo were liable to come upon them, expedited matters. What had happened was that Ramirez and three others had fled to the roof, by way of a trap door so cleverly concealed as to have escaped being seen and noted by the invading Americans.
Whither they had fled was unknown, however, by Captain Cornell. Bound, gagged, flung into a corner of the big second-floor front room, he had known nothing of his captors’ movements.
“And so when Jack and I left the rest of you to explore the tunnel, Ramirez and his gang came down from the roof and jumped you?” questioned Captain Murray.
Mr. Hampton nodded. His wound was causing him pain, yet not enough to prevent him from acting as spokesman.
“I left you fellows in the cellar, and then started back upstairs. When I reached the kitchen, I was in the act of closing the door when—”
“That’s right,” interrupted Captain Murray. “You did go down the cellar and see us off. I was thinking Jack and I had gone alone and had left that cellar door standing open. You must have closed it, and locked it. Did you? Or did the Mexicans?”
“I confess I don’t know,” admitted Mr. Hampton. “But I imagine that in my excitement I must have locked the door. I’m accustomed to locking doors, anyway. It’s a habit, and I lock a door without giving the matter any thought. But the Mexicans couldn’t have done it. They didn’t come downstairs.”