“Happened to be passing,” remarked the Captain, “and stepped in on the chance that you may have heard something about that Mexican from Espato’s camp.”
“Not a thing,” returned Dick. “We were just talking about that when you came in. We can’t understand it and we’re almost wild with anxiety about Phil.”
“I don’t mind admitting I’m worried myself,” returned the captain. “Those Mexicans are slow and lazy, but not when such a large amount of money is concerned. Still, some accident may have happened to detain him and he may turn up at any time.”
Just then there was a signal from the radio set and Steve turned to take the message. He listened a moment and then jumped as though he had been shot.
“It’s Phil!” he shouted. “Phil’s sending. Do you hear me, fellows? It’s Phil!”
There was a wild yell from Dick and Tom as they rushed to his side, crazy with delight and scarcely able to believe their ears. Phil, good old Phil, still alive and talking to them. Was it possible or was it only a dream?
Captain Bradley, scarcely less upset than themselves, had joined the excited group about the instrument. The message was coming in the code, and as they were all familiar with it they could read it from the clicks as it came along.
“Phil Strong sending,” spelled out the message. “Prisoner in Espato’s camp. Am hoping this will reach Captain Bradley’s camp of Texas Rangers at Laguna. Need help and need it quick. Some prisoners killed today. I may be next. Espato planning to make my death slow and hard. No time to lose. Will stop now and wait for answer.”
The clicks ceased, and the excited auditors looked at each other, delight that Phil was still alive and rage at his fiendish captor mingled on their faces.
“Answer him,” cried Captain Bradley. “Don’t wait a minute. Tell him we’re coming to his help. Get from him whatever he knows that can guide us to the camp. Quick!”