Frank at Don Carlos' Rancho

by Harry Castlemon

That was the very question Frank was asking himself, and it was one he could not answer. If they went back into the passage, they would run directly into the clutches of their enemies; and if they retreated into the adjoining room, they would be captured by the men who were quarreling there. It would be useless for them to conceal themselves among the boxes and bales of goods, for two men could thoroughly ransack the room in half a minute’s time, and their hiding-place would speedily be discovered.

“Oh, we are caught at last,” said Archie, after he had thought the matter over. “We can’t stir a step, for our enemies are all around us.”

Thump! thump! Both boys jumped as if some one had suddenly fired a pistol close to their ears. The Rancheros in the passage had secured an ax, and were beginning the work of cutting down the door. The blows fell fast and furiously, and before the cousins had fairly made up their minds what was going on, the door began to shake and tremble violently. Something must be done at once; for in two minutes more the room would be filled with Rancheros. The boys looked at each other, and both seemed to have decided upon the same course of action; for, with one accord, they started toward the opposite side of the room. They moved swiftly, but noiselessly, and when they reached the door, they stopped and looked in and beheld a scene that filled them with astonishment. By the light of a lantern, which stood on a table in the center of the room, they saw a man lying upon the floor, and another kneeling upon his breast, and holding him by the throat with one hand, while, with the other, he flourished a knife in the air. The prostrate man was the chief of the robber band, and his antagonist was Pierre Costello. They were talking in angry, excited tones, and during the few seconds the cousins stood at the door, undecided how to act, they caught enough of the conversation to understand the cause of the trouble.

Pierre had boasted to Frank, before he left him in the ravine, that he had two strings to his bow this time. In case Don Carlos refused to pay him the reward he had offered for Frank’s capture, he would keep his prisoner safe, until his uncle ransomed him. If one failed, the other would not, for Mr. Winters would willingly give every cent he was worth, rather than permit harm to befall his nephew. But something was always happening to upset Pierre’s plans. The Rancheros, whom he had tried to cheat out of their share of the money, had followed him to the mountains, and taken charge of the prisoner themselves. Pierre was in the court when Frank was brought in, and although he said nothing, he was highly enraged. He could, of course, have claimed a portion of the reward, but that would not satisfy him—he wanted it all; and he mentally resolved that, before morning, he would smuggle Frank out of the rancho, and carry him back to the mountains.

While thinking the matter over, and trying to decide upon the best plan for accomplishing his object, he came to the conclusion that it would be well to make a change in his programme. He was satisfied that the events of the night had broken up the robber band (the disappearance of Frank and Archie would create a great commotion in the settlement, and the Don’s secret would be certain to leak out somewhere), and Pierre determined to secure his own safety by deserting his friends, and leaving the country. He would not, however, go empty handed. The Don had plenty of gold stowed away in some secret cavern; Pierre wanted some of it; and the only way he could get it was to compel the chief to conduct him to its place of concealment. This he had decided to do; and when the Don went below to renew his search for Archie, Pierre accompanied him; and after leading him into a deserted room in a remote corner of the rancho (one of the few which happened to be unlocked), he ordered the Don to show him where the coveted gold was hidden. Frightened by the sight of the knife which Pierre brandished before his eyes, the chief would have gladly complied with the demand, but, for the simple reason, that he could not get into the room where his treasure was concealed. The key was attached to the bunch in Archie’s pocket. He had long ago missed the keys from their accustomed nail in his room, but he did not know what had become of them.

“I don’t can do it, Meester Bierre,” groaned the Don, for the twentieth time. “I don’t got de key. It’s lost.”

“You can’t make me believe that story,” replied Pierre, tightening his grasp on the Don’s throat, and raising his knife as he spoke. “Once more, and for the last time, where is it?”

The Don’s answer was cut short by an interruption that was as sudden as it was unexpected. Two figures glided quickly into the room, and while one stopped to close and lock the door, the other ran straight up to Pierre, and presented a cocked revolver in his face. The robber, who had been so fully occupied with the Don that he had not heard the sounds of the ax, or the noise occasioned by the struggle at the door, was astonished beyond measure. The hand in which he held the knife fell slowly to his side, his under jaw dropped down, and he shrunk away from the muzzle of the revolver without uttering a word.

“Ach!” exclaimed the Don, who was no less amazed than Pierre, “here ish von of dese leetle poys!”