“Trouble was I had to shoot with my left hand,” Mr. Hampton explained, “and I was feeling weak, besides.”
“Out they all went, one after another,” added Captain Cornell. “It isn’t a long drop from these second-floor windows to the ground, and they took the shortest route. I’m sorry Ramirez got away. But I’m glad Mr. Hampton came when he did, for I had the feeling that Ramirez contemplated dealing out an unlovely fate to us.”
“And the rest you know,” added Mr. Hampton. “When the Mexicans cleared out I tried to get to the window to take another shot at them, but managed to get just about that far when faintness overcame me. That’s when you called, Jack,” he added, turning toward his son.
A quick council was held. It was decided that the best thing for all concerned was to get back to American soil, as soon as possible. It was not likely that Ramirez would return. But he might notify the Mexican police that a party of Americans had broken into the house; and then complications unpleasant to contemplate would arise, if the police found them in possession.
There were many things still unexplained, still a mystery. Where was Don Ferdinand? What was the particular brand of deviltry actuating Ramirez? Why had Captain Cornell been taken prisoner? But these questions would have to wait for explanation. What was of moment was that Captain Cornell had been rescued at a cost of no wounds except Mr. Hampton’s, and it not serious. And the thing to do was to get away and regain the protection of American soil. “All right,” said Mr. Hampton, when this had been agreed on. “Jack, you’ve got long legs. Run around and get our taxi and bring it here.”
Jack started away obediently, but was halted by a dismayed cry from Bob: “My flivver. My stolen flivver.”
“Leave it where it is,” said Mr. Hampton, quickly. “I noticed it bore an American license. When we get back to Laredo, I’ll find out the owner, and buy him a new car. If you undertake to run it back across the Border, you’ll be halted. And then a lot of useless explanations will have to be made. And dangerous ones, too. As for the owner,” he added, with a smile, “I’m sure he’ll not object to getting a new car for his old one.”
“I’ll say not,” said Bob, fervently, thinking of the jouncing he had received. It was a sentiment in which Captain Cornell heartily joined.
Bob left with Jack, in order to thank young Juan Salazar, who had been of such great help, and to bind him to secrecy. During their absence a hurried search was made of the house. There was little furniture, only a great number of pallets scattered through all the rooms, both upstairs and down. There were no cabinets in which to look for papers, which might offer some clew to the mystery of what was Ramirez’s occupation. And over all there hung a perceptible odor at which the searchers sniffed now and again, puzzled. It was elusive yet pungent, and its origin could not be traced. But finally Captain Murray declared with a shout that he “had it.”
The others ran up to find him standing in the middle of the floor of an upstairs room, a number of dirty pallets with their filthy blankets about his feet.