CHAPTER XVI.
A RACE IN THE DARK.
It seemed to Frank that while he was falling he lost his senses. When he came to himself, he was sitting on the ground about ten feet from the wall, the Don was lying motionless by his side, and the Mexican, with whom Frank expected to have a desperate fight, or a hotly-contested foot-race, was kneeling upon him and holding him down. More than that, a huge door in the wall of the rancho—the same one through which the horsemen had disappeared a few minutes before—had been thrown open; the light of a locomotive lamp was streaming out; and a crowd of mounted men, all armed to the teeth, were charging up the bank with furious yells. Frank gazed at them with mouth and eyes wide open; and so bewildered was he, that the Mexican, if he had felt so inclined, might have bound him hand and foot without the least difficulty. But it was plain that he was not there for that purpose; he was devoting himself entirely to Don Carlos.
“That was well done, Master Frank,” said he, as he passed his sash around the chiefs arms. “But there’s going to be a fight here, and you had better get out of the way.”
It was Carlos who spoke, and his words brought Frank to his feet immediately. He understood it all now. The men, who were pouring through the door into the rancho, were the settlers, who had come there to rescue him and Archie. Frank, however, was not disposed to run away because there was going to be a fight. A dozen or two men, at least, would be killed or wounded, and his cousin might be one of the number, unless he was immediately liberated. The last Frank saw of him, he was struggling in the grasp of a powerful Mexican, who had thrown him upon the roof, and was holding his hands behind his back, while a companion was getting ready to bind him. And there were Roderick and King James to be looked after, too. During the confusion some of the robbers might make off with them, and that would be a misfortune indeed. Frank thought of all these things, and to the utter amazement of Carlos, pulled his revolver from his pocket, and followed the settlers into the rancho.
When he reached the door he stopped, astonished at the scene presented to his view. The court was filled with men, some on foot, and some on horseback; rifles and pistols were cracking in every direction; knives were flashing in the air; and the din that arose was almost deafening. One thing Frank noticed immediately, and that was, that the fight was not so much of a fight after all. The robbers, taken by surprise, and alarmed at the numbers and determination of the attacking party, did not stop to resist, but made every exertion to escape. Some, of course, succeeded; while others were pulled down by lassos, and bound hand and foot before they could realize what was going on.
Frank stood at the door but a moment, but that was long enough for a friend of his to find and recognize him. It was Marmion. The dog jumped upon him with every demonstration of joy, and then turned and attacked the first man he came to, who happened to be none other than Carlos. The latter had taken care of his prisoner, and was hurrying in to assist the settlers. Marmion discovered his mistake after he had bitten the Ranchero, but did not seem to be sorry for it. He, no doubt, considered it his duty to bite somebody, and it made little difference to him who it was. He afterward had an opportunity to try his teeth upon an old enemy of his, and he made the most of it.
Frank’s first care was to look around for Archie. He was not in sight, but something else was. Roderick was standing near the middle of the court, and one of the robbers had just grasped the bridle, preparatory to springing upon his back. There was not a single instant to be lost. That man must not be allowed to mount the horse, for, if he once got fairly into the saddle, he would go out of the court with the speed of the wind, and that would be the last of Roderick. Frank bounded forward, discharging his revolver at the robber as he ran; but, although the man looked around to see where the bullet came from, he was not frightened from his purpose. His leg was already over the saddle, and Roderick was beginning to move.
“Stop, there!” yelled Frank, who was so close to the horse that he could almost seize him by the tail. “Stop, I say!”
The noise in the court was so great that he could scarcely hear his own voice. The Mexican did not hear it, and it is not probable that he would have paid any attention to it if he had. The revolver cracked once more, but something made Frank’s hand unsteady, and the bullet went wide of the mark. Roderick was certainly lost to him. Again and again the six-shooter spoke in decided tones, until the last load was discharged; and still the robber rode on. With a cry of impatience Frank dashed the now useless weapon to the ground, and, scarcely knowing what he was doing, started in hot pursuit of the mustang; but Marmion, his friend and ally, was swifter than he, and now beginning to understand that the Mexican ought to be stopped, he ran up beside the horse, bounded into the air, seized the man by the shoulder, and pulled him from the saddle in a twinkling.
The wild Indian yell to which Frank gave utterance as he witnessed this proceeding, would have done credit to Dick Lewis himself. He did not stop to see what Marmion was going to do with the robber, but kept on after the mustang, which he now believed would make straight for the gate. Roderick, however, seemed to be in no hurry to leave the rancho; nor was he frightened by the noise and confusion around him. On the contrary, he appeared to enjoy it. He arched his neck, laid back his ears, and pranced about among the excited, struggling men as though he were in his natural element; but, being well-trained and obedient, he stopped when his master succeeded in making him hear his voice, and in a few seconds more Frank was safe in the saddle. How proud the boy was then! He was not afraid of Don Carlos’ whole band.