It was heard by United States soldiers guarding the American side; it also reached the ears of two members of the Texas Rangers on duty for the time being at the same important post.
These men eagerly watched the approaching riders, who with the hot sun beating relentlessly down upon them tore at unslackened speed over the last stretch of the journey.
Presently the lads, enveloped in the center of a cloud of whirling dust, pulled up and sprang to the ground—safe on United States soil.
They were immediately surrounded by soldiers, Rangers, and inhabitants, and from every side a torrent of questions rang in their ears.
One of the Texas Rangers, with a sharp, quick glance toward Jimmy Raymond, took no part in the talking, nor did he seem to pay any heed to the replies which the fugitives were rattling off as fast as their weary condition would permit.
The officer stood scanning a headquarters order; then, nodding his head affirmatively, he stepped forward and laid a hand on the Texas boy’s shoulder.
“Son!” he exclaimed quietly. “You’re wanted!”
At last Jimmy Raymond, the young pianist, was in the hands of the Texas Rangers, the men whom he had so ardently wished to avoid.
CHAPTER XXIII
SAFE AGAIN IN TEXAS
It was too much for the lad to stand philosophically. The nerve-racking events through which he had recently passed; the unexpected dash for the American side; the bitter feelings of resentment and of anger stirred up by the course the others had taken made his passions for the instant beyond control.