“You young rascal!” continued the man, in a tone of great satisfaction. “I’ve got you now, and I am going to give you the best dressing down you have had in a twelve-month.” Something whistled sharply in the darkness, and Archie felt the effects of a stinging blow from a rawhide in the hands of his invisible antagonist.
CHAPTER XI.
A COMPANION IN TROUBLE.
Archie recognized the voice which addressed him, and knew who his antagonist was. He was one of the mutineers—the same who had given him the keys, and who had shaken his fist at him as he was leading out the horses. Supposing Archie to be Beppo, he had loitered about in the passage awaiting his return to the stable, intending to take an ample revenge upon him. The horses not being on hand at the right time, the plans of the mutineers were completely upset; and of course they were highly enraged.
Although Archie was greatly astonished and alarmed at finding himself thus unceremoniously assaulted, he comprehended the situation in an instant, and acted accordingly. He knew that as long as the man supposed him to be Beppo, he would use nothing but his rawhide on him, and Archie thought he could stand that; but, if he made himself known, the Ranchero would drop his whip, and resort to his knife, and that was something Archie could not stand. When he uttered Beppo’s favorite expression, he exactly imitated his voice; and the man, believing that he had got hold of the right one, clung to his collar, and belabored him most unmercifully with his rawhide.
“Santa Maria!” yelled Archie, smarting under the blows, and writhing like an eel in the strong grasp that held him.
“You’ll fool me again, will you?” said the Ranchero, with grim satisfaction. “You’ll break your promise, won’t you? Why didn’t you bring up those horses? How does that feel, you rascal?”
The sensation was by no means an agreeable one. The herdsman, who was a powerful fellow, showered his blows with all his strength, and his victim struggled in vain to escape from his clutches. Then he tried to slip out of his jacket; but the Ranchero detected the move, and shifted his grasp from Archie’s collar to his hair. The torture soon became almost unbearable, and Archie was more than once on the point of losing heart and crying out; but just at the right time his courage came again to his aid, and shutting his teeth firmly together, he braced his nerves, and took the punishment without a murmur. But he did not cease his struggles. He ducked his head, and jumped and squirmed about in a way that made it extremely difficult for his antagonist to hit him; but if he escaped one blow, the next one he received came with redoubled force; and becoming satisfied at last that it was the man’s intention to whip him to death, he grew desperate, and did something that ended the battle in an instant. Thrusting his hand into his pocket, he drew out one of the long, heavy pistols which he had found on the table, and grasping it by the barrel, he struck his enemy a blow in the face which felled him like an ox under the ax of the butcher. In falling, he pulled Archie to the floor with him, but he did not hold him there, nor did he attempt it. He raised both hands to his head, and set up a roar that awoke a thousand echoes in the passage; and Archie, finding himself at liberty, scrambled to his feet and ran for life. He did not know where or in what direction he was going, nor did he give the matter a moment’s thought. His only desire was to get as far away from his antagonist as possible, and to conceal himself in one of the rooms. He would have given something now to have had a lantern, for it was far from being a pleasant thing to stumble about in that intense darkness, through those unknown passage-ways. A light might have discovered him to his enemies, but he told himself that he would much rather run that risk, than be continually harassed by the fear of running against some of the band before he knew it, or of falling through some secret trap-door. But luck was on his side. There were no trap-doors in his way, and the robbers were all up-stairs, overturning every thing in their frantic search for him. He groped his way along with all possible speed, and finally, believing himself safe from pursuit for the present, he stopped to take breath, and to determine upon his future course.
What was to be done now? that was the question. He was in a bad scrape, and could see no way to get out of it. He rubbed his aching shoulders, and thought of the remark he had so often made since his adventure with Pierre and his band—that he did not care to remain longer in California, because the fun and excitement were all over. He thought differently now. He had had plenty of excitement during the day, much more than he wanted, but he had not seen a great deal of fun. Bruised and battered, smarting in a hundred places from the effects of the beating he had received; surrounded by a net-work of secret passage-ways and caverns, among which he was as effectually lost as though he had been in the heart of the Rocky Mountains; in the midst of enemies who would show him no mercy if captured; his situation was certainly a disheartening one. He could not hope for assistance from his friends, for they were ignorant of his whereabouts. He and Frank had often camped out among the mountains for a week at a time, enjoying the fine shooting to be found there; and now the trappers, if they noticed his absence at all, would probably think he had gone off on one of his hunting expeditions, and instead of making any attempt to find him, would leave him to return home when he got ready. Frank might be captured, confined in one of those rooms, and die a lingering death there, and no one would ever know what had become of him.