Frank at Don Carlos' Rancho

by Harry Castlemon

To plaided warrior, armed for strife.”

In short, the Scottish braves sprung into view in a way that was utterly bewildering, and so did the men who had been creeping up through the bushes while Frank was parleying with his captor. The fugitive had never seen so many Mexicans together before, and it was a mystery where they all came from. It seemed to him that every bush and tree within the range of his vision, was turning into a villainous looking Ranchero. They arose on all sides, and with loud yells rushed forward intent upon capturing Frank alive and unharmed. Not a shot was fired at him, but the trapper was a target for a dozen rifles and pistols; and some of the bullets, that were intended for him, whistled through the bushes uncomfortably near to Frank’s head. If Archie had been in his cousin’s place just then, he would have smelt powder to his heart’s content.

Frank’s first impulse was to stop and surrender himself a prisoner; but a rapid glance around showed him that one portion of the woods was still left open to him. Toward this he dashed with the speed of a frightened deer—paying no heed to the loud commands to halt that were shouted after him, but trembling in every limb when he heard the lassos of his pursuers whistling through the air—and in less time than it takes to tell it, he had once more distanced the fleetest of the herdsmen. In ten minutes not one of them was to be seen or heard. The reports of the firearms had ceased, the shouts had died away in the distance, and the woods were as silent as midnight.

Frank was now rapidly nearing the creek—the only barrier that stood between him and his home. Once safe on the opposite shore, and his escape was assured. The five miles that lay between the creek and his uncle’s rancho, were no obstacle to such a runner as he had proved himself to be. He reached the bank at last, and, without stopping to reconnoiter the ground before him, dashed through the bushes at the top of his speed, and plunged into the water. His movements were so rapid that the Rancheros, who were concealed in the bushes awaiting his approach, did not have time to seize him as he passed; but their lassos were longer than their arms, and before the fugitive had made half a dozen strokes, one of these dreaded weapons flew through the air, and the noose settled around his neck. He tried to avoid the danger by diving under the water; but it was too late. The lariat was tightened up with a jerk, and he was pulled back to the shore, gasping for breath, and struggling desperately.

“Here you are again, Fifty-Thousand-Dollars,” exclaimed a familiar voice; and the instant Frank touched the bank, a stalwart Mexican, whom he recognized as the one from whom he had escaped a short time before, threw himself upon him and held him fast; two more bound him hand and foot; while a fourth searched all his pockets, and took possession of his revolver. Of course he was easily overpowered, but it was only after a furious and determined resistance.

The Rancheros were very jubilant over their success. They danced about their captive like so many savages; and when one seized him by the collar and jerked him to his feet, the others set up a loud shout of triumph. Then they held a hurried consultation in their native tongue, and the prisoner understood enough of what was said to know that they were talking about the money they expected to receive when they delivered Frank into the hands of Don Carlos. They seemed to be afraid that they might be called upon to divide the reward with some of their companions; and, in order to avoid that, they told one another that they would take their captive to the rancho by some round-about way. No sooner was this plan agreed upon, than the Mexicans proceeded to carry it out. Two of them seized Frank by the arms and hurried him into the woods, dragging him roughly over fallen logs, and through thick bushes, which tore his clothing and scratched him severely.

“Now, see here,” he exclaimed, when he thought he could no longer endure their harsh treatment; “if you will untie my feet, so that I can walk, you will save yourselves and me a great deal of trouble.”

The Mexicans were deaf to his words. They did not mind the trouble in the least. Their prisoner was worth a fortune to them; and having seen him make two remarkable escapes that night, they did not intend to give him an opportunity to make another.

If they hoped to reach the rancho without meeting any of their companions, they were destined to be disappointed; for, when they arrived at the edge of the prairie where they had left their horses, they were joined by three more of the Don’s band, who, upon discovering Frank again in confinement, set up a terrific yell.