Clutching the end of the table for support, the native began to talk very rapidly, and as the engineer listened, his face took on a startled and somewhat puzzled look.
“He says that he has run ten miles to warn us that José Cerro and his band are planning to attack us to-night!” explained Mr. Ryder when the native finally ceased talking. “He says that they are on the way now and that we must hurry and prepare to meet their attack or we will be overwhelmed!”
“How does he know this?” demanded Jack, thoroughly excited.
“He carried mail to Los Angeles to-night,” said Mr. Ryder, “and while he was lingering in the village a native told him that the famous bandit José Cerro was there. The native pointed out the very house where José Cerro was drinking pulque with some of his lieutenants. He became curious to see a man of such a villainous reputation and crept close to the shack and peered into the window. He not only saw the villain but he heard most of their conversation. He was startled, for he realized that he was overhearing the plans for an attack on the power plant. He heard José Cerro say, ‘The fence wires are all cut by now and the big searchlight crippled. Everything is ready for the attack. Our men need only to rush in, seize Señor Ryder and carry him off. Then I will collect three thousand pesos from our benefactor before we start to join Zapata and capture the railroad. Then if we play our part right we can hold this great electrical engineer for a ransom from his friends in America perhaps. If we can’t do that we can kill him at least, though I’d much prefer to hold him and collect gringo gold for his release. How say you, men?’ At this there were many cheers.
“Miguel became less cautious for he wanted to hear more. The result was that José Cerro saw him through the window and fired his revolver at him. The bullet hit him in the shoulder. The town was in an uproar immediately but the runner did not wait. As fast as he could he ran toward the power plant, glad, he says, of an opportunity to be of service to the gringo who saved his dog from the alligators.”
The Indian had stood by the table during Mr. Ryder’s recital, his face distorted with the pain of the wound in his shoulder, and as the lad looked at him he realized just how much hardship the red man had withstood to repay a debt of kindness.
“We must prepare to meet the attack immediately,” said Jack calmly, “but before I move a step I am going to bind up this poor fellow’s wound and see that he is comfortable.”
“Fine! Take care of him and I’ll go and spread the alarm. Hurry down to the trenches when you’re through,” said Mr. Ryder as he seized a rifle and rushed out the door.
Although Jack could not talk to the Indian, he soon made the red man understand by motions that he wanted to take care of the bullet wound. The native smiled gratefully at this and sat down in Mr. Ryder’s chair while the young American hastened out to Tom Why’s cook house. The lad routed the worthy Chinaman out of bed and bade him heat some water immediately. In the meantime, he found some clean linen with which to make bandages.
Tom Why was a willing assistant and in short order all blood stains had been wiped from the runner’s chest and arm and the wound bathed. Then Jack bound a bandage tightly about the injured shoulder and after preparing a cup of steaming hot coffee, showed the native to one of the bedrooms and insisted that he lay down and rest for a while. During all this, the tawny yellow hound which had followed the Indian into the cottage, kept close to his master’s side. The animal seemed to appreciate everything that Jack and Tom did for the redman, for his tail wagged furiously all the time. And when the runner lay down upon Jack’s bed the hound curled himself up in the doorway as if to keep guard while Miguel was sleeping.