Chapter XXV The Mexican Raiders - Dave Porter and his Double by Edward Stratemeyer

By the time the two chums had hastily donned their clothing and possessed themselves of the pistols they had purchased in San Antonio on the advice of Mr. Watson, the camp was in confusion from end to end, with the various bosses shouting orders and the men themselves wanting to know what the trouble was and what they had better do.

“It’s some of those confounded greasers!” cried Frank Andrews, as he, too, arose and armed himself. He had a repeating rifle, and it was known to Dave and Roger that he was an exceptionally good shot.

Andrews led the way from the building, followed by our hero and Roger and several others. In the meantime, the distant shouting and shooting seemed to have moved farther westward, in the direction where the new Catalco bridge was being constructed.

“It can’t be their intention to blow up the bridge?” queried Roger. There had been talk of this several times.

“No telling what those rascals are up to,” answered Frank Andrews. “This may be only a rumpus kicked up to cover a cattle raid or something like that.”

In the midst of the excitement the telephone in the main office began to ring and was answered by one of the clerks. A few minutes later he came rushing out to where Mr. Obray stood talking to his assistant and the boss of the construction camp.

“Just got a telephone from the Tolman ranch,” announced the clerk. “Old man Tolman said they had been raided and that half of the raiders were coming this way. I tried to get some details from him, but in the midst of the talk I was shut off. I suppose somebody cut the wire.”

“I thought that might be it,” answered the head of the engineering corps.

“We ought to help Tolman all we can,” announced the boss of the construction camp. “He promised to assist us in case we had any trouble, and turn about is fair play.”

“Right you are, Peterson, and any man who wants to go out can do it.” And word was passed around to this effect.

Dave and Roger listened to this talk and what followed with much interest. In less than five minutes over thirty men from the construction camp had signified their willingness to go after the raiders, and these men were joined by Frank Andrews and three other civil engineers, all well armed and mounted.

“I’d like to join that crowd and go after those Mexicans!” exclaimed Dave, his eyes sparkling.

“So would I!” returned the senator’s son, quickly. “Those fellows can’t be anything but plain bandits and cattle thieves.”

“Sure! No regular revolutionists would come over the border and act in this fashion.”

“What do you say, Dave–shall we go?”

“I’m willing.”

“No, no! You young fellows had better stay in the camp,” announced Ralph Obray, who overheard the talk. “Just remember that in a certain sense I am responsible for your safety while you are under me.”

“But those others are going,” returned Dave, somewhat reproachfully.

“So they are, Porter. But they are all older than you, and most of them have had experience in this sort of thing. I would rather that you stayed here. Maybe if those raiders come this way we’ll have our hands full defending the camp.”

Dave and Roger realized that for the head of the camp to express his desire in this instance was equal practically to a command; so they at once gave up the idea of following Frank Andrews and the others. The men rode off quickly, and were soon lost to sight in the darkness of the night.

An hour of intense anxiety passed. During that time those left in the camp heard an occasional shot in the distance. Then several shots seemed much closer. There followed some yelling, and, then about five minutes later, came a dull explosion.

“That’s at the bridge!” exclaimed Dave. “They must be trying to blow it up!”

The dull explosion was followed by a sudden rattle of rifle and pistol shots and more yelling. Once or twice some men seemed to come quite near to the construction camp, the hoof strokes of the horses being distinctly heard.

All who remained in the camp were on the lookout, and each man stood ready with his weapon to do what he could to defend the place should the occasion arise. But with the explosion and the rattle of rifle and pistol shots that followed, the conflict seemed to die down, and presently all became utter silence; and thus two more hours passed.

“Whoever they were, they seem to have left this vicinity entirely,” said Roger.

“I wish it was morning,” put in another of the young men present. The watching was beginning to get on his nerves.

At last, just as the first streaks of dawn were beginning to show in the eastern sky, a number of horsemen were descried approaching from the southward. All in the camp were instantly on their guard, but it was soon seen that it was their friends who were coming back. They came in somewhat of a horseshoe formation, driving in their midst four prisoners, one of them with his arm done up in a sling and another with his head bandaged.

“They’ve got somebody!” exclaimed Roger, as the crowd came closer, “Four greasers!”

“Three of them look like Mexicans, but the other fellow looks like an American,” returned Dave, as the party came to a halt in front of the camp buildings.

Those who had come in were at once surrounded by the others, who wanted to know the particulars of what had taken place.

“It was a band of about thirty greasers, and with them were two or three Americans,” announced Frank Andrews. “They went down to old man Tolman’s corral and tried to drive off about two hundred head of cattle. They got away from the ranch, and then part of the gang came over this way in the vicinity of the new bridge. We had two running fights with them, and then they let the cattle go and started for the Rio Grande. But before they went one of the rascals set off a bomb near the end of the bridge and blew up a corner of the foundation.”

“Why in the world did they want to blow up the bridge?” demanded Mr. Obray.

“They weren’t all Mexicans, Mr. Obray. Several of them were Americans. We’ve got one of the Americans right here. And do you know who it is? Jack Pankhurst!”

“What’s that!” exclaimed the head of the camp, and then he turned to the prisoners. One man had his sombrero pulled well down over his forehead, as if somewhat ashamed of himself.

“There he is,” went on Frank Andrews, pointing to this individual. “That’s Jack Pankhurst, who was discharged for drinking and gambling about two months ago.”

Mr. Obray strode up to the prisoner and gave him a tap under the chin, thus elevating his face.

“You’re a fine specimen of humanity, Pankhurst!” he cried sternly. “A fine business for you to be in–joining Mexican outlaws and becoming a cattle rustler. What have you to say for yourself?”

“I haven’t anything to say,” grumbled the prisoner. “What’s the use? I was caught with the goods, wasn’t I?” he sneered.

“I’m ashamed to think an American would go in with a bunch of Mexican bandits,” said Mr. Obray; and then gave directions that the prisoners should be well bound so that there would be no possibility of their escaping.

All listened with interest to the details of the cattle raid so far as the men who had gone out from the construction camp could relate. They said that some of the fighting had been exceedingly hot, and they were satisfied that a number of the Mexicans, and also one of the Americans with them, had been wounded.

They themselves had not escaped unscathed, one man being hit in the shoulder and another in the leg. Fortunately, however, neither of these wounds proved serious. The camp doctor was called in to attend them, after which he attended the wounded prisoners. In the meantime, a message was sent to the railroad station and to San Antonio, to acquaint the authorities with what had occurred.

“I was questioning Pankhurst on the way here,” said Frank Andrews to the head of the camp. “He wouldn’t admit it outright, but I am strongly of the opinion that one of the other Americans who was with him was Bill Jarvey.”

“Jarvey!” muttered Mr. Obray. “Well, it would be just like him to join a fellow like Pankhurst. They were quite chummy when they both worked for the company.”

“I’ve got another idea about this affair,” went on Andrews. “Do you remember how they said Jarvey vowed he would get square with the company for discharging him? I’ve got an idea that it was his scheme to attempt to blow up the bridge, and that he was the one who set off that bomb. Their idea was to get the cattle to some safe place first, and then ruin the bridge. More than likely Jarvey and Pankhurst made a deal with the greasers to that effect–the Americans to help with the cattle and the Mexicans to help destroy our work.”

“You may be right, Andrews,” answered Ralph Obray. “And if you are, it’s a pity that you didn’t catch Jarvey.”

Dave and Roger listened to this talk with interest, and also joined in the general discussion of those in the camp regarding the raid, and what would be done with the prisoners.

“I suppose they will turn the prisoners over to the United States authorities,” was Dave’s opinion; and in this he was right. Some government officers appeared by noon of the next day, and after a lengthy talk with the head of the camp and a number of others, the prisoners, including Jack Pankhurst, were taken away.

“I wonder if old man Tolman got his cattle back,” remarked Roger.

“All but three of the animals,” answered one of the men present. “Those were trampled to death during the raid. But three are nothing alongside of two hundred.”

The raid had caused so much excitement in the camp that there was but little work done that day. The boys went down with the others to inspect the bridge, and look curiously at the hole which had been torn in the corner of one of the foundations by the bomb.

“That was certainly a mean piece of business,” was our hero’s comment. “It didn’t do anybody a bit of good, and it’s going to make a good deal of work to repair the damage.”

Several days passed, and the camp at last settled back into its usual routine. Dave and Roger worked as hard as ever, and both were much pleased when Mr. Obray told them that they were doing very well.

“I am going to write a letter to Mr. Ramsdell,” said the head of the camp, “and tell him that I am well satisfied with his pupils,” and he smiled faintly.

A day or two later word came to the camp which interested the chums as much as it did anybody. It seemed that Jack Pankhurst had been subjected to a “third degree” of questioning. He had broken down completely and confessed that the two other Americans in the raid with him had been former employees of the Mentor Construction Company–one a fellow named Packard Brown, and the other William Jarvey. Pankhurst had also let fall the information that Jarvey had once been an officer in the United States Army, and that he was traveling under an assumed name.

“A former officer of our army and acting in that way!” exclaimed Dave, when he heard this report. “I certainly do hope they’ll catch him and punish him as he deserves!”

“My sentiments exactly!” added Roger.