The Boy Scouts Under Fire in Mexico

Whether there was any real danger in the situation or not the other boys could not, of course, say; but Tubby's way of clasping his short arms about his horse's neck so as to prevent himself from being washed overboard was so comical that they had to laugh, even while urging their own mounts to the farther shore, so as to be on hand to render assistance if such should be needed.

To Tubby it was all serious enough; and no doubt just then he imagined that he stood a fair chance of being separated from his possessions and carried down the Rio Grande, perhaps to an untimely death.

CHAPTER XIV.

A GALLOP ON MEXICAN SOIL

"Hey, Rob, tell me what to do!" Tubby could be heard shouting at the top of his voice, as he kept on hugging his horse about the neck, being evidently determined not to allow the current to pluck him out of his saddle, at any rate so long as he could maintain that rigid grip.

Even in that sudden emergency Tubby found himself depending on Rob as usual; and to hear him asking for information, one would believe that the young patrol leader knew more about river fords than a dozen native guides who had been used to crossing by this means all their lives.

Rob had reached shallow water, and immediately urged his horse down-stream, in order to come opposite the drifting scout.

"Just keep holding on, and the horse will bring you to land!" he called out encouragingly. "He is making a plucky fight, and getting in closer all the while. As soon as he strikes bottom it will be all over; so keep your grip, Tubby."

This the fat scout did; and just as Rob had said, presently the swimming animal reached a more shallow point, where he could get his footing and manage to swing in closer than ever. And in another five minutes Tubby emerged from the river, "looking like a half-drowned rat," as Andy assured him, for streams were dripping from each foot, and he was soaked from his waist down.

"Anyway, I had horse sense enough to keep my gun dry," Tubby observed. "But what shall I do now, Rob? I'm weighing half a ton, I guess."

"You're not apt to catch cold in this warm air," Rob told him; "and so you might as well let your duds dry on you. At noon, when we halt for a bite, you can open up your bundle and spread your blanket out for the sun to dry. After all, there wasn't any damage done."

"Only to my feelings," Tubby reminded him.

"And they don't count," said Andy, laughing at the recollection of the tragic way in which Tubby had embraced that horse. He had held to it about as a leech might have clung when applied to the arm of a patient in the old days when they bled sick men.

They at once turned their backs on the Rio Grande, and according to what Lopez told them, they were not likely to set eyes on the river again until their mission had either been successfully carried out, or proven a failure.

Rob took a fond look at the stream. Some-how it seemed to be the very last link binding them to their home land; for across the running water lay the good old United States. And they were now on foreign soil, where the Starry Flag at present was powerless to protect them from a multitude of perils.

Presently they could see the river no longer, because they were rising over a level stretch of country through which the flood at some time in the far past had cut a deep channel.

From now on, what was around and before them was to serve fully to occupy their attention.

When half a dozen miles had been passed over, Rob began to notice that Tubby was not looking as happy as he might; and he feared that the pace was telling more or less on the stout chum.

"Are we going too fast for you, Tubby?" he called out; and instantly the other tried to look utterly unconcerned, as though he were enjoying himself to the utmost.

"What, for me?" he immediately answered, with a ring of indignation in his voice; though every jump of his horse caused him to shake like a mould of jelly. "Well, I should say not! You couldn't move too fast to suit my mind, Rob. If I had an aeroplane right now you'd see me sailing away at the rate of a hundred miles an hour, and headed for that same old town of Chihuahua. Why didn't we think to bring something like that along? Aeroplanes may be dangerous things, but then they're a heap more comfortable than some nags I know!"

No matter how Tubby suffered, he seemed bound not to admit the fact; and knowing his stubborn nature, Rob did not try to show any further sympathy for him. If things really became too bad, perhaps Tubby would consent to ask them to hold up and let him have a breathing spell. But at any rate, they were surely putting the miles behind them, and before night-time would have made "quite a dent in that journey to the capital of the State," as Andy said.

Before the middle of the day came, Rob had the guide call a halt, for he knew it was punishment to Tubby to keep this up as they were doing. The sun was so scorchingly hot that the fat boy seemed very nearly as wet with perspiration as he had been soaked with river water a little earlier. But even then he complained at the stop, and told Rob he should have been able to hold out another half-hour or until noon. This caused the other scouts to exchange winks, and behind their hands tell each other that for dogged perseverance Tubby surely had them all "beaten a mile."

While they rested their mounts and had a cold bite, Tubby was induced to open his pack and spread out such things as seemed damp, so that when night came he would not have to lie down under a blanket that gave him a chill. Lopez warned the boys that while the day had been very hot, they would find good reason to wish they had two blankets apiece before morning.

"We found that out the time we were down at Panama," said Rob; "though, perhaps, being further north now may make a difference. But Tubby's just got to have his blanket good and dry, and that goes."

Tubby managed to accomplish this; and as they packed up later on to continue their gallop, he told the others that the sun had done the business all right.

Several times during the morning's run the keen-sighted guide had discovered moving figures far off. Rob had been thoughtful enough to bring a small but powerful pair of field-glasses, along with many other things; and these now came in handy to tell them whether the distant parties were seemingly Federal soldiers or members of Villa's rebel army foraging for supplies.

"But if Villa's men are holding all the ground between Chihuahua, from which they chased Salazar's forces a little while ago, and Juarez on the river, why do we need to fear running across any Federal soldiers?" Andy wanted to know, when once Lopez, after taking a look through the glasses, declared that he believed the half dozen riders they watched going further away might be men in the uniform of Mexican regulars.

"Generally speaking, they do hold this territory, which mostly used to belong to the wealthy Terrazas family," Rob explained; "but reports have come in that several bodies of mounted regulars were dispatched from Ojinaga, where half a dozen generals and their men are fortifying their positions to make a stubborn stand against the rebels. These raiders have orders to cut the telegraph lines, and destroy all the bridges they can between Chihuahua and the border on both lines of railroad. And so you see, we are apt to run across one of these flying columns at any old time. That is what the good general warned me to look out for; because, of course, we have more to fear from Salazar's men than from the rebels."

"Ginger snaps and pop-guns! I should say we had," exclaimed Tubby, "when we remember what precious document – er, I mean how much we want to see General Villa!"

Rob had not thought it wise to tell everything to the guide until they came to know him better; and hence his frown and vigorous shake of the head toward the talkative Tubby, when the other came within an ace of "letting the cat out of the bag."

They did not ride quite so fast during the afternoon, all on Tubby's account, though no one dared let him know that, or he would have been very angry. As the day began to wane, and they seemed to be in a part of the wild country free from either rebels or Government troops, Rob suggested that they come to a halt and go into camp.

"We must have made as much as forty miles and more since morning, and so be that much nearer Chihuahua," he remarked; "and that's good enough for one day. Perhaps to-morrow we may work closer to the railroad, and try to get in touch with some of Villa's men, who will take us to him. There's Lopez dismounting, boys, so let's do the same."

Merritt and Andy both grunted as they managed with some difficulty to get out of their saddles, after Rob had set the example. As for Tubby, he seemed to be glued in his seat, for while they saw him make a desperate effort several times, he did not seem able to accomplish a separation. Finally, with a foolish grin on his face, he beckoned to Rob to come nearer.

"I'm afraid you'll have to give me a lift, Rob," he confessed; "fact is, I don't seem able to raise either leg, I'm that stiff. That's a good feller, just get me started and I'll be all right, sure I will. And after I've jumped around a few dozen times I'll be ready to dance a hoedown if you ask me."

But it was noticed that Tubby was unusually quiet all that evening, hardly bothering to move more than to reach out for his share of supper; nor did he volunteer to do his part in the cooking. "For what is the use," he complained, "when we have an experienced guide along who loves to cook?" And at one time, when Rob leisurely got to his feet and reached for a tin cup, Tubby even had the assurance to call out softly after him:

"If so be you're meaning to go to the creek for a drink, Rob, wish you'd fetch a cup of water for me, and thank you!"

The truth of the matter was that ride had been a terrible experience to the fat scout, and he had suffered much more than anybody suspected. But by slow degrees he would grow accustomed to the exercise, and perhaps even enjoy life in the saddle before they were done scouring the country in search of Villa.

Lopez had taken every sort of precaution to avoid having their camp seen by any hostile eyes. In the first place, he had selected for a site a spot that was fairly well screened by dense thickets; it was also in a sort of little depression or basin, where the glow of the small fire they had lighted to prepare their meal might not be discovered.

This blaze had been allowed to die out after it had served the purpose for which Lopez had started it; so that as they sat there, talking in low voices, only the soft starlight looked down upon them.

Tubby was later on discovered to be sound asleep; and as Andy and Merritt admitted feeling pretty drowsy themselves, Rob told them they had better get their blankets ready to do duty. He himself fixed that of Tubby, and managed to draw the sleeping scout under it without awakening him.

All seemed deathly quiet when Rob lay down to secure some rest. The guide had assured him that there was no need of their keeping watch, because his horse had been trained by a cowboy to give the alarm if any enemy came prowling around.

Confident that all would be well, the patrol leader settled himself as comfortably as was possible, under the conditions, and after some little time spent in running over in his mind various matters that had a connection with their mission to Mexico, he fell asleep.

Rob did not know whether it was half an hour that he had been lost in slumber, or five times that long, when he was rudely disturbed by some one kicking his shins. And at the same time he became conscious of a low whispering voice saying:

"Rob, oh! Rob, are you awake? What under the sun is making that queer noise?"

It was Andy calling; and becoming conscious that there were some strange noises rising on the night air close by at the same time, Rob raised his head the better to listen.

Andy's question must have been overheard by Merritt, for he at once let them know he was awake and on the alert; but as for Tubby, he only wheezed, and breathed harder than ever; for he was a thousand miles away in his dreams.

CHAPTER XV.

ANDY SCATTERS THE SERENADERS

The first thing that Rob noticed was that it did not seem nearly as dark and gloomy as when he had lain down. Could it be he had slept the whole night through, and that daylight was at hand? He settled this mystery with his first glance upward; for there he discovered that a pale fragment of a once proud moon had arisen in the east, and was looking mournfully down upon their hidden camp.

Next he made out the form of Lopez, the Mexican guide, who was sitting with his back against a tree, as though that might be his favorite way of sleeping. But he was very much awake now, for he moved even as Rob took notice of his presence.

The queer chorus of sounds continued to arise from various points near by. Rob made up his mind that they must be actually surrounded by some species of animal that certainly sang away off the proper key, for they made a noise that jarred on his ear terribly.

"Hear 'em, don't you, Rob?" continued Andy, who doubtless must have been observing the movements of the acting scout master all this while by the aid of that friendly moonlight.

"Do I? Well, I'd have to be pretty deaf not to, Andy," Rob replied.

"What do you reckon it can be? I never in all my life heard such an awful lot of discord," continued the other scout apprehensively.

"I'm only giving a wide guess," Rob told him; "but I should think only a pack of wolves could make a racket like that; or perhaps now, coyotes."

"How about that, Lopez?" Merritt struck in; and the guide, chuckling, replied:

"Last is what it is, young señors; kiote make much noise when hungry. It is our food they scent. Kiote happen to have a very keen nose. No trouble, no danger as long as they hang around. Too much coward to sneak in; and long as we hear kiote sing, we know no spy can be near, or they run away."

"Sing!" burst out Andy with a snort; "is that what they call it down here? Mebbe some folks like that sort of song, but let me tell you it grates on my ears like the screeching of a pack of cats at night. Sing! Whoo-ee! are you joshing us poor tenderfeet, Lopez?"

"Oh! there's nothing like getting used to things, Andy," Rob assured him, while at the same time he was in doubt whether he himself could go to sleep again if all that noise kept up right along. "After a while, when you've heard that chant nightly, you may think it's the finest lullaby ever invented, and miss it the worst kind after you hike away north."

"Don't you believe it, Rob," returned the other positively. "I wouldn't mind being soothed to sleep by sweet sounds, like the thrumming of a guitar or a mandolin; but excuse me from that caterwauling. Listen to it rise and fall! That is just the way our old Tom used to sit on the back fence and talk to the moon till I rigged up a wire along there and connected it with our electric circuit. After that, when I woke and heard him tuning up, all I had to do was to press the button, and everything was still again. But he did always give one awful screech as he lit out!"

"Well, suppose you rig up a switch and circuit here, so you can give these singing coyotes some of the same medicine?" laughed Merritt.

"You know I can't do that," Andy admitted mournfully; "wish I could right now; and let me tell you there'd be a heap of scatterin' out there when the circuit was closed. But what's the matter with me sneaking out and giving them a shot or two from my rifle? We didn't lug our guns all this way just for ornament, did we? And surely they couldn't be used in a nobler cause than to get us poor tired fellows decent sleep."

"How about that, Lopez?" asked Rob. "Do you think there would be any danger of the shots betraying our camp to others who might happen to be around?"

"The danger it is not much," came the reply; "and as for that, the singing of the kiote pack, it tell that a camp must be here; so there is no difference."

"That settles it, then," said Andy exultantly, as he began to unwrap himself from his blanket and grope for his rifle; "and mebbe I won't surprise a few of the noisy gents out there!"

"Don't go too far," Rob warned him, as he started to crawl away on his hands and knees, trailing his gun after him.

"I won't," Andy whispered back, turning his head and then giving a little flirt with one hand in his customary jolly way.

"No use trying to go to sleep till the circus ends, is there?" Merritt demanded, as he shuffled around, trying to get into an easier position.

"Just what I'd made up my mind to myself," replied Rob, following suit.

"Look at Tubby here, sleeping as sweetly as an overgrown baby," the corporal of the Eagle Patrol went on to say with a low laugh.

"Oh! Tubby is the best sleeper I ever knew," Rob assured him. "He often talks as if he had been wakeful all the night, but it's a false alarm. He can sleep through a pretty good thunder-storm, and then remark in the morning that he thinks it must have rained a little during the night. But wait and see if he hears the noise when Andy lets fly with his repeating rifle!"

"Cracky! that's a fact. Chances are he'll just sit up and say the mosquitoes are beginning to get bothersome, for he just heard one singing near his ear; and then he'll call out to ask you for the dope to rub on," Merritt remarked, humorously.

"Wait and see," said Rob; "and it can't be long coming now, because I should think Andy must have crawled far enough to glimpse the circle of mourners."

Hardly had Rob spoken than there came a loud report, instantly followed by a series of yelps, that were drowned in snarls and howls as the other coyotes took after their wounded comrade.

Both boys had their eyes focused on the mound that stood for the sleeping Tubby. There was a sudden upheaval, and the blanket flew aside, revealing the fat scout trying to scramble to his knees with every symptom of alarm.

"Oh! what was that terrible noise?" he stammered. "Rob! Oh, Rob, are we attacked by Injuns? Or was that thunder? Where am I at? Who's got a torch lighted up there? Whatever does it all mean, anyway?"

"Keep cool, Tubby," said Rob, while Merritt laughed at a great rate, although rather softly; "it's all right, no danger. The camp was surrounded by a pack of coyotes, that's all; and their singing kept Andy awake, so he asked permission to crawl out and knock a few of them over. You heard him shoot, and he must have wounded a prowler, for the whole pack took after it at a hot pace. That's all!"

"Oh, is it, Rob? Then, what's the sense of sitting up in the cold and wasting time, when you might be getting forty winks?" With which remark the fat boy cuddled down again under his blanket, and settled himself to resume his interrupted slumbers.

Rob and Merritt laughed again and again over his matter-of-fact way; but beyond a grunt or two, Tubby paid no attention to them. Presently Andy came back, a satisfied grin resting on his good-natured face.

"Told you I'd pickle one silly old coyote, anyway," he remarked, as he prepared to settle down again in his nest.

"We heard him call out, and then the whole pack seemed to chase away after him. Was that the way, Andy?" Merritt asked.

"They all went spinning off in the direction of the desert there; and the one I hit must have been ahead of the pack, because I could hear him tooting up at a great rate. Sho! there must have been all of a dozen in the lot! Bet you they don't come around here in a hurry again after that lesson!"

But Andy was mistaken. In less than half an hour the howls started in once more, at first from some distance, but gradually drawing closer, until apparently the coyote concert band was again at the old stand, appealing to Andy to try it once more, and provide them with some further pickings.

Andy, however, refused to be tempted, for Rob, who was also awake, told him he would have to sit up the balance of the night, since the animals were bound to return time and again; nor would he be able to induce them to stop their wailing, since, driven from the vicinity of the camp, they would stand afar off and start a new chant.

All of the boys were glad when the first peep of dawn drove the coyotes to their dens among the rocks in the hills, or some barranca near by.

Just as Rob had said, they would undoubtedly become more or less accustomed to such nightly serenades in time, and pay little heed to the howling. To one used to sleeping in the open, where wolves and coyotes abound, the chorus comes to be a species of protection; and if it suddenly ceased in the middle of the night he would immediately rouse himself to investigate what had driven the pack away, for it must either be a human enemy, or a jaguar.

The boys expected, after partaking of hot coffee and a light breakfast, to resume their gallop toward the south. Andy busied himself in laying the fire, which they had allowed the guide to do on the previous evening, although any one of the boys knew as much about arranging this as Lopez. He had had actual experience all his adventurous life; but, then, they had practiced the art of building cooking fires as one of the duties with which a scout should be familiar, and they knew just how to get the best results.

Besides, the boys had learned something from the way Lopez selected their camp site. They could guess why it was screened by thickets on nearly all sides; and also why it lay in a slight depression, so that the glow of the little blaze might not draw inquisitive strangers, as an exposed light would.

They had learned long ago to keep their eyes open so as to see everything that went on around them. Rob in particular was always on the alert, and if he thought any of the others failed to grasp what a certain thing meant, it was his habit to call their attention to the circumstances. For that is what a patrol leader is expected to do when he has been elevated to his important position.

Andy had just managed to get the cooking fire ready, and was asking Tubby to bring him the frying-pan, because they expected to have a rasher of bacon for breakfast, to go with the hardtack and coffee. At that moment the horse of the guide, staked near by, began to snort and prance, as well as give other indications of excitement. Lopez had been in the act of rolling up his blanket into a small bundle that could easily be carried behind his saddle. He seemed to know instinctively what these riotous actions on the part of his mount stood for; because, with an exclamation of alarm, he jumped for his gun that rested against a tree trunk.

Rob did the same, ditto Merritt; while Andy continued to kneel there in front of his little fire as though frozen stiff. As for Tubby, he dropped the frying-pan in a panic and snatched up the camp hatchet.

Rob had already caught the sound of horses' hoofs near by; and even as he turned his eyes in the quarter from which the sounds seemed to spring, there came around the end of the thicket a couple of horsemen, who, on discovering the camp with its surprised inmates, drew their mounts in abruptly and sat there in their saddles staring hard.

Rob could see that the men were garbed in a sort of dirty white uniform; and from this he quickly judged that they must be a couple of Salazar's cavalrymen, sent out to burn bridges and demoralize the railroad completely between Chihuahua and Juarez. As Federals were bound to look upon all Americans as their bitter enemies, on account of the attitude taken by the Washington authorities concerning President Huerta, the patrol leader guessed that they were in for another experience.

CHAPTER XVI.

IN THE ENEMY'S COUNTRY

"Don't shoot!" Rob called out hastily, fearing that Lopez might think it his duty, as the guardian of the little party, to open fire on the Regulars; and this was not in accordance with the designs of the Boy Scouts, who were bound to exhaust every peaceful effort before proceeding to any violence.

Andy had by this time come to his senses, and started to crawl over to where he had stacked his rifle. Shooting at coyotes was one thing, however, and being compelled to fire upon human beings quite another; and the boy looked pretty white "about the gills," as Merritt afterward put it, as he clutched his weapon. But he had also heard what the patrol leader said, and did not make any hostile demonstration, beyond pulling back the hammer of his gun with his trembling thumb.