Frank at Don Carlos' Rancho

by Harry Castlemon

“Ah, yes,” said the Don, with some anxiety in his tone; “but I would like to know vare he ish. Peppo! you von grand rascal!”

The young Mexican was on hand immediately. He came out of a dark corner of the stable, to which he had retreated when Frank came in, and where he had stood watching him.

“Peppo!” continued his employer, “it’s petter you go find dis leetle poys, and tell him we will have some suppers now.”

There was nothing in the old Spaniard’s words or manner to indicate that haste was desirable, but Beppo, perhaps, seeing or hearing something that escaped Frank’s notice, started off on a keen run. This seemed to be a signal to the Mexican who stood leaning against the door-post, for he walked rapidly across the court, and presently half a dozen Rancheros appeared and hurried about in different directions, all searching for Archie. The Don watched their movements, and so did Frank. The former was evidently growing uneasy, and his guest certainly was. The Spaniard stepped nervously about, talking hurriedly in his broken English on indifferent matters, and laughing uproariously at his own jokes; and Frank glanced toward the gate-way as if he had half a mind to take to his heels. He believed, now, that it would have been much better for him if he had kept at a respectful distance from Don Carlos and his rancho. A dread of impending evil, which he could not shake off, began to press upon him; and it was plain to him that if he was not in a scrape already, he soon would be. It is true that nothing had been said to induce this belief, but he had seen and felt enough to satisfy him that such was the fact. In the first place, it seemed to him that an air of mystery brooded over the rancho, and that the Don, in spite of his cordial greeting and jovial manner, was trying to conceal something from him. He acted, now, as though he did not want him there. And then, the sudden appearance of those men was another thing that troubled Frank. Until within a moment he had seen but two persons on the rancho besides the Spaniard, but, at an instant’s warning, half a dozen herdsmen had sprung into view, and to save his life he could not tell where they had come from. They appeared at the same moment, and in different directions, as if they had come up out of the ground, or found their way into the court through secret trap-doors in the pavement. Why had they remained concealed? and what was the reason that Archie’s disappearance had created such a commotion among them? Frank judged from the old Spaniard’s words that he was particularly anxious to know where Archie was, and what he was doing; and this implied that there were things about the rancho that the Don did not want him to see.

Frank’s uneasiness increased as the search progressed, and finally he became thoroughly frightened when he noticed the excited looks of the Rancheros as they hurried past him, and heard the angry, threatening words which they exchanged with one another. The Don began to be alarmed also.

“Vell! vell!” he exclaimed, looking back into the stable for the twentieth time, to assure himself that Archie’s horse was still there, “vare ish dis leetle poys?”

“He may have gone out,” replied Frank, with as much indifference as he could command. “I’ll step to the gate and look for him.” “And when I get there,” he added, mentally, “I won’t stop. I’ll show you Greasers some running that will make you wonder. You may be all right in here, but I don’t like your company.”

Frank had great confidence in himself, and he was certain that if he could only get half way to the gate, he could elude any attempts that might be made to detain him. He had not the remotest idea, however, that any such attempts would be made. That would be a heinous offense in the eyes of the settlers, who would never allow it to pass unnoticed. Frank turned to leave the Don, but the latter stepped forward and laid a heavy hand on his arm. “I guess it’s petter you don’t go,” said he.

Frank was thunderstruck. The old Spaniard’s tone and manner showed him that he was in earnest, and he knew now that Archie’s suspicions were correct, and that he himself had been sadly mistaken in the opinions he had formed regarding his host. If he had been allowed his choice in the matter, he would much rather have been standing in front of that log, awaiting the onset of another Old Davy. He would have felt more certain of escape than he did now, surrounded as he was by those villainous Mexicans. A wonderful change had come over Don Carlos. His jovial, good-natured smile had given way to a terrible scowl, and his face was pale with rage or fear; Frank could not tell which. With the next words he uttered, he threw off the mask entirely, and appeared in his true character.