“Getting hungry, poor old boy,” thought Phil, adding, with a grin, as he stepped out into the open. “And he isn’t the only one. Say, won’t the fellows open their eyes when I spin my yarn to them? They’ll be green with envy to think they weren’t in on it. Hi, old boy,” this last softly to the big horse, as he began to unfasten the tethering rope, “it’s us for camp now as hard as you can gallop.”
He was about to swing into the saddle when again the suspicion, amounting, this time, to certainty that someone was following him, caused him to turn sharply about.
A rustling of underbrush, the swift vision of a villainous club upraised to strike, then—a terrific pain in his head, a drifting off into illimitable space, then—nothingness!
It was a long time before Phil awoke to the consciousness of anything. And then, the pain in his head was so unbearable that he almost wished he might go back to sleep again.
He was lying on something that bumped horribly and it was several minutes before he summoned interest enough in life to find out what it was. There was a terrible pain in his wrists and his whole body felt numb and dead.
At last he was able to prop his swollen eyelids open far enough to find that he was bound fast to his horse and that a villainous-looking person, mounted on a rangy Mexican pony was urging the big bay on at a pace that was almost a gallop. No wonder his head ached, bound as he was, face down to the loping animal.
There were other horsemen in the party, a considerable number, Phil thought, judging from the noise they made. They were evidently quite hilarious, gutturally shouting coarse jokes back and forth.
Because the pain in his head was so great, Phil closed his eyes. He tried to think. These were Mexicans who had captured him, without a doubt, in all probability a band of the dreaded outlaws. If they were some of Espato’s men, then indeed was he in a tight fix. Espato had sworn to have the lives of his chums and himself. Well, here was his chance to have a hack at one of them anyway. It is characteristic of Phil that, even in this moment of danger, he could spare a thought for his chums. He was glad that Captain Bradley had been firm in his refusal to allow them to accompany him on this adventure. At least they were safe at camp.
At thought of camp Phil shivered a little, a wave of intense longing engulfing him. Would he ever see camp again? Then, because it made his head ache worse than ever, he tried not to think. It was no use. The horrible thoughts whirled about in his aching brain maddeningly.
Espato! Those tales they had heard in camp of his cruelty to prisoners. Such hideous things had been done in that remote camp of his in the mountains. Phil shuddered again and the slight motion caused the bonds about his wrists to cut deeper into the flesh. They sure had trussed him up neatly, he thought with a grimace of pain as he crouched closer to the neck of his horse.