He held out his hand for it with a gesture that told he was not to be trifled with further. Vasquez looked around desperately. Give him a moment more and he would think up some smooth reply that would at least gain time, perhaps argue the thing out of their very hands! But Sid made a determined lunge for him as the Mexican backed away.
At once the man raised his voice in a hoarse scream, “Ladrones! Gringoes!” he yelled, fending off Sid with a push of his hand while he turned the side with the plaque under his arm away from them. Then he ran for a door at the back of the school. Shrill yells and the shouts of Apache came in answer to his call from outside. There was not a second further to lose! Scotty sprang for the man, lunging low in the football tackle for his legs, while Sid with a fierce and accurate grip of his strong hands tore the plaque away from under his arm, the scuffle sending the three rolling together in a heap on the dirt floor of the church.
“Quick! Make for that rear door!” barked Sid as he and Scotty leaped to their feet. Vasquez squirmed on the dirt floor of the schoolhouse, cursing horribly in Spanish and rocking to and fro as he hugged a sprained ankle. If looks could kill, the malignant fire that darted from his snaky eyes would have paralyzed them both! Sid raced for the rear door while Scotty stood guard over the man with threatening fists. The patter of running feet sounded outside the ’dobe walls. Then a leggined Apache, with long, matted black hair, stood blinking in at them in the blazing square of sunlight that was the front door.
Sid had reached the back door. He looked in, then beckoned Scotty to join him. The boy raced over and, once inside the room, both boys slammed the stout panels behind them and let drop a heavy oak beam.
“There’s a small window, with a mesquite bush growing out in front of it, Scotty—give me a stirrup hold!” gasped Sid, who was breathing heavily from their tussle.
He stepped up in Scotty’s clasped hands and peered out the window, with one arm crooked over the edge. A mesquite grew just outside, and it was so heavily laden with dense clumps of mistletoe as to be in a dying state. Sid figured they might climb out into it and remain there undiscovered among the mistletoe clumps for a few moments. Outside he saw three or four Apache bucks running toward the schoolhouse from the grass huts perched upon the hillside. All over the village he heard an indescribable commotion of children and squealing squaws, but the Indians had no idea of what really was the matter. So far only Vasquez’s screech for help had come to their ears.
Sid climbed out through the window and then reached down his arms to help Scotty up to its sill. An uproar and a drumming of fists and impotent squalls in Spanish was sounding outside the oak door of the room as they both climbed out and gained the shelter of the mesquite. As the last buck outside ran into the school, Sid dropped to the ground and the boys raced for their horses. An outcry of Indian children greeted the appearance of the two fugitives, but none offered to interfere; only one little shaver had the presence of mind to run shrieking to the school door while Sid and Scotty were swinging up into their saddles.
“Now ride, Scotty, old scout—these Apache can run!” grunted Sid, hanging low over his pinto and putting spurs to him. Scotty’s mare had no idea of letting that pinto leave her, so they galloped away from San Mateo together, leaving behind a cloud of dust and a riot of angry war whoops from the red men piling out of the schoolhouse.
Sid’s caution as to the running abilities of the Apache was entirely true. Behind them streaked out two lean and sinewy bucks, who had raced out of the school door and were coming after them like arrows. What was more surprising was the way they kept up that speed. The mare and the pinto were going like the wind, but not a yard did those Indians on foot behind them seem to lose! There was not a horse save their own in sight. But three men and a swarm of children were already running down the hill to where the ragged poles of a horse corral and the glint of a watering pond near by shimmered in the broiling sun. Even barebacked it would be some time yet before these could join in the chase, but when it was once begun it would be tireless.
Not a word passed between the boys. Both were watching sharp ahead for prairie dog holes and urging on their ponies at top gallop. If they could outrun those two bucks behind them for half a mile they would have passed the limits of even Apache endurance. Indeed, before half the distance between them and the friendly hills had passed, they saw first one, then the other, give up, with arms tossed up in weary abandon, as both bucks threw themselves panting on the bare plain. Sid and Scotty then let their ponies ride on at their own stride. It was well to have an extra spurt left in them to call on, even yet!