As they neared the gate of the estate, it flew open and a dozen horsemen, fully armed, dashed out.
“Surrender, caballeros,” they cried in Mexican, “or we shall kill you without mercy.”
“Hold your horses,” hailed back Coyote Pete, quite oblivious of the fact that, in all probability, none of the horsemen understood that free and easy form of English.
But to the boys’ surprise the cow-puncher’s words were greeted with a shout of laughter from the advancing ranks, and a fresh young voice cried:
“Who are you,—for the love of Mike?”
“We are Americans who have brought back the Senorita Alverado,” cried Pete, and was going on, but his words were drowned in a ringing cheer. The next minute explanations ensued. It appeared that the party which had sallied out at their approach was made up of young American mining engineers, resident in the neighborhood, who, on hearing of Don Alverado’s loss, had at once formed themselves into a posse.
They had been starting out on a hunt for the abductors of the Don’s beautiful daughter when they heard the advance of our party. Surmising that it might be the outlaws returning to commit further outrages, they had concealed themselves and dashed out intent on capturing or killing the disturbers of law and order.
Their enthusiasm over the news of Senorita Isabella Alverado’s rescue knew no bounds. Wheeling their horses they dashed off up the broad drive leading to the house to inform the Don,—who was anxiously pacing his library,—of the good news. They were followed, at a more sober gait, by the Border Boys and their party.
“My poor father! He must have known heavy grief in the past few hours,” breathed the senorita, as they approached the house. Jack was struck by the unselfishness of the thought. Of herself the senorita made no mention nor of all that she had endured at the hands of the outlaws. It was only of her father that she appeared to think.