“Now march,” came a crisp order, and the man of science, being also a man of discernment, “marched.” He did not dare to turn his head, but from the trampling of hoofs behind him he judged that several men must be following in his wake. Before long he found that they were undoubtedly headed for the Border Boys’ camp. But he dared make no outcry, for the old man had guessed already that his captors must be Black Ramon’s men, and he knew that they held human life no dearer than so much dust.
Arrived near to the camp, the old man was tied to a tree and gagged, and then his captors, whom he now recognized as Ramon’s band, scattered among the trees in such a manner that they completely encircled the camp. All at once one of them began to make a peculiar sound,—a perfect imitation of the “gur-gur-gur-gobble” of the wild turkey.
How the professor longed to warn the boys of the crafty trap that was being set for them! But he was powerless to do anything. As the wily band of marauders had guessed, the “skirling” of the supposed turkey was enough to set the camp agog. Snatching up shotguns, Walt and Ralph plunged off into the underbrush. They had not gone twenty paces before the brigands, noiselessly as panthers, seized and bound them, old coats being held over their heads to prevent their making any outcry. This done, they were bound to the same tree as the professor.
The capture of Coyote Pete alone, now remained to be accomplished. For, as we know, though the marauders were not aware of the fact, Jack was far from the camp at the time. But in Coyote the Mexicans caught a Tartar. The old plainsman was frying some bacon, stooping low over the coals, when the sharp crack of a twig behind him caught his attentive ear. Like a flash he bounded erect, but not before the muzzles of a dozen rifles were aimed at him from the underbrush.
Black Ramon was taking no chances with Coyote Pete, whom he knew both by reputation and experience.
For one instant, as he took in the situation, Coyote was still as a figure carved from marble. Only the heaving of his chest under his blue shirt showed that he was, for him, considerably startled.
Suddenly, and without the slightest warning, the old plainsman crouched low, and then dashing straight at the nearest Mexican, seized him by the legs, and before the others had recovered their senses, he had hurled the fellow backward by an expert wrestling trick. The astonished Mexican alighted in the midst of the campfire, overturning the spider, from which he was plentifully sprinkled with scalding bacon fat.
In this way Coyote, cut off from reaching his own weapons, managed to possess himself of a rifle.
“Now,” he shouted, “the first varmint that fires at me gets some of this lead. I may only have one shot, but I’ll make that one tell.”
A storm of bullets was the result, but Coyote with that quick foresight which was his characteristic, threw himself flat behind a large rock, with the result that the leaden hail spattered against the solid stone.