“Look! look!” shrieked Jack; “their leader is getting away! José Cerro is escaping!” Then rolling his spurs across his animal’s flanks he gave chase. But others saw the escaping leader and more than one horseman turned his mount down the valley after the fleeing rebel.
It was a short race. José Cerro had hardly time to get his steed down to its pace before Jack and two rurales reached his side. One man seized the horse’s bridle and threw the animal back up on its haunches. With a curse the Zapatista drew his revolver. But Jack happened fortunately to be on the right side of the rebel. His revolver spat fire twice before the Mexican could raise his arm. José Cerro shrieked with pain. The revolver dropped from his helpless fingers and he reeled in the saddle. The other rurale caught him as he was falling and steadied him on the prancing horse.
The fighting had ceased by this time for most of the peons, seeing their leader in full flight, had surrendered. The Mexican linemen and the Americans who were still tied to their horses had been liberated immediately and the rurales were busy forming the remainder of the rebel band in a double line and disarming them.
Jack and Mr. Ryder greeted each other warmly when the former drove up, escorting the wounded leader.
“By George, boy, I’m mighty glad you got the rurales out when you did. It began to look to us as if we were in for a rather disagreeable time with José Cerro. José, you know, is a dangerous individual at best, and any one who is unfortunate enough to become his prisoner is very liable to suffer.”
“Yes, I am glad I arrived before it was necessary to superintend your ‘decent burial,’ but the credit is not due me. Miguel, our Indian runner, once more appeared in the nick of time. He saw you leaving for the mountains and all unknown to us he trailed you. He saw you captured and hurried back to the plant and spread the news. Where is he now?”
“There he is yonder on his horse, looking like a bronze statue. I’m going over and shake hands with him. He’s a brave boy,” said Mr. Ryder.
To have the great gringo engineer shake hands with him and compliment him pleased the Indian runner a great deal in spite of the fact that he became very self-conscious when Mr. Ryder told him how brave he really was.
“I’m not brave,” he said in Spanish. “I merely repay a kindness. Also, I am glad to see José Cerro captured. If he is not killed by the rurales I myself will kill him for this.” The Indian pointed gravely to his wounded shoulder as he spoke.
But Mr. Ryder did not hear all that the Indian said for the grounded transmission line was worrying him. He looked at his watch then hurried off to where Carroll and several men from the plant were standing.