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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78767 ***
+
+                              BORDER BRED
+
+                              W. C. Tuttle
+
+                      Illustrated by Douglas Duer
+
+
+“You git on your horse and vamoose pronto. We don’t want yuh hangin’
+around here; sabe?”
+
+The speaker was a tall, thin, dark-featured man, slightly
+round-shouldered. He was coarsely dressed and unkempt, as though he
+had but recently got out of bed, and he struck the pickets of the
+sagging gate, as though to emphasize his declaration.
+
+He placed his other hand on the shoulder of a little, calico-clad girl,
+of about seven, who looked up wonderingly at him.
+
+“Aw-w-w right,” drawled Dobie Dixon slowly; “I reckon I can do that,
+too, Mister Langdon.”
+
+[Illustration: Dobie was a lanky youngster of fifteen]
+
+Dobie Dixon was a tall, lanky youngster of fifteen, awkward of hand and
+foot, colorless of hair, colorless of garb, but with a pair of keen gray
+eyes in his thin face.
+
+He had not been nicknamed Dobie. His mother had died shortly after his
+birth, and old Dan Dixon, a revenue officer, in lieu of a better name,
+had considered the color of the baby’s hair and named him Adobe Dixon.
+This had been shortened to Dobie, and the name fitted him well.
+
+A month before the beginning of this tale, old Dan Dixon had been
+killed in attempting to stop an automobile load of contraband goods
+from crossing the border.
+
+It had been a case of deliberate murder. The driver of the huge machine,
+traveling at a great rate of speed, ignored the partly blocked road in
+his mad rush to escape detection, deliberately ran down old Dan and
+killed him instantly.
+
+And in a hail of lead from the other officers the murderer, with his
+load of contraband, had roared away into the night--to safety.
+
+Old Dan had been one of the best of the border officers, and his one
+ambition had been to have Dobie follow in his footsteps. But the wise
+ones shook their heads. Dobie was a dreamer. Old Dan had taught him
+how to trail, to shoot straight with a rifle and revolver, and Dobie
+knew every inch of those boulder-strewn, mesquite-covered hills; but
+Dobie did not seem to have the slightest ambition to be a border
+guard.
+
+He still lived in the little half-adobe shack about two miles from the
+border; doing his own cooking, mending and washing. Dobie had little
+need of money. Odd jobs gave him enough for his immediate needs. He
+seemed to care for no one, except little Jane Langdon.
+
+And now her father had ordered him to keep away from her. He swung
+listlessly into his saddle and picked up his reins. The buckskin pony,
+evil of eye, snapped back viciously at Dobie’s spurred boot, but the
+boy gave it no heed.
+
+“And yuh can keep away, too,” added Langdon.
+
+Dobie’s impassive face did not change, as he ignored the man and spoke
+down to the little, curly-haired girl.
+
+“Good-by, Jane.”
+
+“Goo’-by, Dobie. Come thee me again.”
+
+“Yeah--mebbe.”
+
+“Thasso?” The man angered quickly. “Didn’t yuh hear what I said, Dixon?”
+
+“Huh!” Dobie grunted softly and grinned at Langdon. Then he waved at
+Jane as he rode slowly away down the dusty road, heading toward the
+Cottonwood grades, where the shack headquarters of the border officers
+were sprawled in a group of sun-dried trees.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Dobie was in no hurry. Every few days he rode to headquarters to see
+Bill Steen, old Jim Cleveland and “Baldy” Hale. They had been with his
+father for years and treated Dobie as a man and an equal.
+
+These were all man-hunters. They were hard-bitted, calloused, merciless
+in their calling, but at heart they were still kids. Dobie was one of
+them. He was no younger nor older than they. The hard life of the border
+makes men out of boys.
+
+As Dobie rode along through the dust he scanned the hills closely.
+To the north, as far as eye could see, there were nothing but hills,
+boulders and mesquite. Southward stretched the same hills into Old
+Mexico, the land of great unrest. Suddenly Dobie drew up his horse
+and peered closely at the hills north of the road.
+
+A mile or more away, high on the point of a hill, a tiny streamer of
+smoke. It was so tiny that the unpracticed eye would have failed to see
+it, or, at a glance, it might have been mistaken for a yucca stalk and
+blossom.
+
+Then it disappeared. Dobie rubbed his nose, but did not take his eyes
+off that spot. It came again--faded quickly. And it did not come the
+third time. Dobie marked the spot and rode on.
+
+He knew it was a smoke signal, but he had no idea whom it was for nor
+what it meant.
+
+“Smugglers,” he reflected, and his gray eyes hardened as he thought of
+his father. They had been pals. He glanced back at the hills, but there
+were no more signals.
+
+“Get him some day,” Dobie told his buckskin pony. “They never gave him a
+chance, and some day they’ll pay.”
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+He rode up to headquarters. Bill Steen was working over their rusty,
+rattling old flivver, while the other two sat in the shade and gave
+him valuable advice.
+
+“’Lo, Dobie,” greeted Baldy Hale, “git down and rest yore hoofs. How’s
+everythin’?”
+
+Dobie dismounted, tied his pony to the rickety porch and sat down with
+them.
+
+“Bill took the innards out of the rattler and he’s got two pieces left
+over,” stated Jim Cleveland. “Betcha them two was put in t’ rattle.
+Leave ’em out, Bill.”
+
+“I reckon I gotta,” said Bill seriously. “I never did like a danged
+piece of machinery.”
+
+He came over and sat down in the shade, wiping his hands on a piece of
+burlap.
+
+“Whatcha know, Dobe?”
+
+“Not much, Bill. Seen a smoke signal on that high point on the east side
+of Calamity Cañon a while ago.”
+
+“Thasso? Smoke signal, Dobie?”
+
+Dobie nodded quickly. “Saw two puffs of it. Dunno how many there was
+before I seen it.”
+
+Baldy snorted audibly.
+
+“When they start Injun signalin’, what chance have we got, I’d like t’
+know?”
+
+“Kinda helpless,” admitted Bill slowly. “They’ve got all the best of it.
+Thirty miles of border and three men to watch it. Why, it would take one
+man for every twenty feet of that line to stop all smugglin’.”
+
+“You ain’t tryin’ to tell us any news, are yuh, Willyum?” queried Baldy.
+“If yuh are, it ain’t somethin’ that’s goin’ to surprise me a heap.”
+
+“I got run off Langdon’s place,” volunteered Dobie.
+
+“Run off?” Bill straightened up quickly. “How’s that?”
+
+“I just stopped to give the little girl an orange,” said Dobie, “and
+Langdon comes out and tells me to herd myself away pronto. I dunno
+what’s the matter with him.”
+
+“Huh!” Baldy fairly exploded. “Never did like that Langdon. I’ll betcha
+he’s mixed up with smugglers. Never does any work. I allus feels sorry
+for his wife.”
+
+“She ain’t very strong lookin’,” admitted Dobie. “I wasn’t doin’ nothin’
+but givin’ little Jane an orange, when out he comes and hops all over
+me. Tells me to sift out of there. I sifted.”
+
+Bill Steen laughed. “Well, it’s his baby and his house, and if he wants
+to be ornery----”
+
+“He can go ahead and be ornery, eh?” grinned Dobie.
+
+“Baldy cooked a pot of beans, Dobie,” informed Jim Cleveland. “He’s
+goin’ to make a flock of biscuits, too.”
+
+“M’ insides clamor for food,” grinned Dobie, “and Baldy sure can mingle
+a wicked old bean. How soon do we put on the nosebag, Baldy?”
+
+“Soon as I make the biscuits,” grinned Baldy, getting to his feet. “You
+fellers fix the flivver while I make ’em. Let Dobie fix it, Bill. He’s a
+mechanic.”
+
+“You only got two pieces over?” queried Dobie.
+
+“Yeah,” nodded Bill. “Two pieces too many.”
+
+“Better let her go as she lies,” grinned Dobie. “I took a wheelbarrow to
+pieces once and had six parts left over.”
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+High up on the point of the hill, where Dobie had seen the signal fire,
+sat a man. The fire was now only a pile of cold ashes, which had been
+scuffed out with a heavy shoe sole.
+
+The man was evil of face. He was fairly well dressed in a dark suit of
+clothes, silk shirt, black sombrero and laced boots. Around his waist,
+under his coat, was a belt of cartridges and a holstered revolver.
+
+He had seen Dobie Dixon stop and look toward the signal. To this man
+it was a tiny figure of a man and horse, far down there on the yellow
+ribbon of dusty road. He had unslung a pair of binoculars, which hung
+in a case across his shoulder, but they had only shown a man on a
+buckskin pony, jogging along through the dust.
+
+A half-hour later Sam Langdon broke through the screen of mesquite and
+faced this man. It had been a hard climb and Langdon was out of breath.
+He sat down on a boulder and rested a few moments before the other man
+said:
+
+“I was wonderin’ if you saw the smoke, Langdon.”
+
+“Yeah, I seen it, Carver. Whew! That’s some climb!”
+
+“Didn’t want to come any closer. I suppose these hills are full of
+officers now, eh?”
+
+Langdon shook his head. “No. They never increased the force. Same old
+three.”
+
+“That’s good.” Carver laughed softly.
+
+“This is a big deal, Langdon, big deal.”
+
+“Yeah?” Langdon looked up intently.
+
+“Biggest cargo of the year, Langdon. To-morrow night we’re runnin’
+enough drugs to supply all the drug stores in the Southwest. Gonzales
+has it all packed in Verdugo, and you’re the little person who is goin’
+to slide it across for us.”
+
+Langdon frowned. “Drugs, eh? Morphine, coke and all that kinda stuff,
+Carver?”
+
+“Y’ betcha. And a lot of it, too.”
+
+Langdon shook his head slowly. “Carver, I don’t mind runnin’ booze and
+Chinamen, but I balk at drugs. It’s a dirty game, don’t cha know it?”
+
+Carver laughed mockingly. “Scared, Langdon? Gittin’ yaller, eh? What do
+you care--as long as you get your cut out of it? It’s a cinch to put it
+over--a cinch for you, I mean. You know every trail, every kink in the
+line. You’re the only man in this country that can make a new trail and
+cover it up behind you.”
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Langdon stared gloomily across the hills. It was true that he was an
+adept at covering a trail, and no man could follow him. While the
+officers watched the regular trails, Langdon made a new one and
+covered it up.
+
+“There’s a couple of thousand in cold cash for yuh,” said Carver. “Two
+thousand dollars, Langdon. That’s a lot of money.”
+
+Langdon got to his feet and hooked his thumbs over the waist-band of his
+pants.
+
+“Carver, I don’t like this stuff. Booze is bad enough, but--I’d as soon
+see anyone play with a rattlesnake as to fool with drugs.”
+
+“You don’t have to take ’em,” reminded Carver. “Why should you worry
+about who uses ’em?”
+
+“I would, though. I’d dream at night about the--” Langdon shook his head
+slowly. “No, I can’t do it, Carver.”
+
+“You won’t be asked to make some easy money again. We don’t have much
+use for quitters, Langdon.”
+
+Langdon shrugged his shoulders. He knew that it meant an open break
+with Doc Carver and Gonzales, but he was firm in his intentions not
+to smuggle drugs.
+
+“It’ll put you in bad,” said Carver slowly. “We can cause you a lot of
+trouble. A tip to the right parties, eh?” Carver laughed meaningly.
+
+“You’d frame me?” Langdon’s voice grew hoarse. “After all I’ve done for
+you, you’d frame me?”
+
+“You’ve still got a little sense--just a little, Langdon. You better
+stick with us--and be safe.”
+
+“Suppose I beat you to your little game, Carver? What would my tip do to
+you right now?”
+
+“Yeah?” Carver’s lip curled slightly away from his clenched teeth.
+“You’d never try a thing like that.”
+
+“I didn’t think that you and Gonzales would think of doing it to me
+either, Carver.”
+
+“No. Is that so?” Carver’s lips tightened, but he could see that his
+attitude was only making Langdon more firm; so he laughed softly and
+shook his head.
+
+“Now, Langdon, let’s be friends. We’re flyin’ at each other like a
+pair of Mexican game cocks, and all over nothing. You’ll bring that
+cargo across to-morrow night, collect your two thousand dollars and
+be glad that you showed good sense.”
+
+Langdon shook his head. “No, I won’t do it. I hate the stuff, Carver.
+I’ve seen what it will do, and God knows I don’t want it on my
+conscience. No, I won’t do it, and what is more,” he leaned forward
+and his lips shut into a thin line after each word,
+
+“I’ll ... do ... my ... best ... to ... stop ... anybody ... that ...
+tries ... to ... bring ... it ... across!”
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Carver took a half-step backward and his hand flirted away his coat, as
+he reached for his gun, but he found his eyes looking into the muzzle of
+Langdon’s gun, which had seemed to appear out of thin air.
+
+“Drop it on the ground!” snapped Langdon, and Carver reluctantly dropped
+his gun into the dirt.
+
+Langdon picked up the gun and threw it far away into the mesquite
+thicket.
+
+“I hate to do this, Carver, but it had to be. What I said just now, I
+mean to do. I’ve played square with you in things that didn’t mean
+much, but this cargo means too much to the whole world, and I’ll stop
+it if I can. And you know what I can do.”
+
+And Carver did know that Langdon could cause them a lot of trouble, but
+he would not admit it.
+
+Carver shrugged his shoulders.
+
+“Well, you’ve got the drop on me, Langdon, and I suppose we’ve got to
+agree that you are not going to run that cargo. As far as you hindering
+us--we’ll see.”
+
+“You know I’ve always done my best,” replied Langdon evenly. “I’ve
+used my own home as a cache for stuff because you asked me to do it.
+I sent old Dan Dixon’s boy away to-day, because I was afraid he’d get
+too friendly and find out something.”
+
+“You don’t need to alibi yourself to me,” said Carver quickly. “That
+don’t interest me a bit. What are you going to do now?”
+
+“I’m going home. I’m sorry we had to bust up like this, Carver, but it
+had to come sooner or later. It’s a losing game and I want to be out of
+it.”
+
+“Well, get out of it,” retorted Carver, “but let us alone. We can get
+along without yuh, Langdon.”
+
+“You try to bring that cargo of drugs across--” said Langdon meaningly,
+and backed into the mesquite.
+
+For several minutes, Carver listened closely. There was no sound from
+the thicket. He climbed up on a boulder and scanned the country below
+him, but there was not even the rustle of a bush to show the passing
+of Langdon.
+
+But he knew that Langdon had gone as silently as a brush rabbit. Then he
+swore bitterly and began to search for his revolver.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was long past supper-time and Dobie was ready to start home. They had
+managed to find a place to put the two extra pieces into the mechanism
+of the flivver and the three officers were dressing to start on patrol.
+
+The world seemed flooded with a blue light from the moon; a light that
+changed the rough hills into a fairyland of mystic shape and shadow.
+Dobie untied his horse and was preparing to mount, when a woman came in
+through the trees, panting as though from a long run.
+
+Dobie turned from his horse and met her in the light from the open
+doorway. It was Mrs. Langdon, a frail little woman in a cheap calico
+dress, bareheaded. Her face was white and she seemed on the verge of
+collapse.
+
+“What’s the matter?” asked Dobie.
+
+She panted for a moment, peering at Dobie, and then she turned and
+went in through the open doorway. Bill Steen met her at the door and
+Dobie came in behind her. Baldy was just putting on his coat, but he
+dropped it on a cot, and Jim Cleveland stopped pulling on his boots.
+
+“What’s gone wrong, ma’am?” asked Bill Steen.
+
+Mrs. Langdon seemed unable to speak for a moment. She fumbled nervously
+in the bosom of her dress and drew out a folded paper, which she
+clenched in her hand.
+
+“My baby!” Her voice was almost a scream. “They’ve taken my baby!”
+
+“Taken your baby?” grunted Bill Steen. “What do yuh mean, Mrs. Langdon?”
+
+Baldy carried a chair over to her, but she shoved it aside.
+
+“They stole my baby--my little Jane. Oh, don’t you understand?”
+
+“No, ma’am.” Bill shook his head. “We don’t sabe it. Who stole yore baby
+and why did they steal her?”
+
+“The smugglers stole her.”
+
+“Now wait a minute,” advised Bill. “Yo’re all upset and out of breath,
+ma’am. Jist kinda calm down and see if it ain’t easier to tell us about
+it. There’s gotta be a reason for stealin’ yore baby.”
+
+“Yes, yes, there is a reason, but--” Mrs. Langdon shook her head, “I--I
+didn’t want to tell you----”
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Dobie stepped in closer and put his hand on her arm.
+
+“Who stole Jane, Mrs. Langdon?”
+
+“Oh, I can’t give names. I’m afraid to tell it all, but I suppose it is
+all I can do. My husband does not know I came here.”
+
+“Now you go right ahead and talk about it,” advised Dobie. “Ain’t nobody
+goin’ to hurt yuh, ma’am.”
+
+“It was the smugglers,” she said slowly, trying to be calm. “They told
+my husband that he was to help them bring a big cargo of drugs across
+the line, but he refused to help run drugs.
+
+“They quarreled and it almost ended in a shooting scrape, but my husband
+still refused to help them, and he said he would do everything he could
+to stop them from bringing the stuff across.
+
+“That was about four o’clock to-day. At six o’clock little Jane was
+missing. We searched everywhere. Then that little hunchback Mexican
+who lives down on Camp Creek came to us and brought us this message,
+which he said was given to him to deliver.”
+
+[Illustration: That little hunchback Mexican brought us this message]
+
+She handed the paper to Bill Steen and the rest of the men crowded
+around to read:
+
+“The little girl is safe enough now, but you will be sorry if anything
+interferes with that stuff to-morrow night. You know us well enough to
+know that we do not bluff.”
+
+It was written in a poor scrawl with a soft lead pencil and was
+unsigned. Bill Steen handed it back to her.
+
+“Yore husband helped these men before?” he asked.
+
+Mrs. Langdon nodded. “Yes, he was a smuggler.”
+
+“But he wouldn’t run drugs, eh?” queried Baldy. “By golly, that’s one
+big thing in his favor.”
+
+“To-morrow night, eh?” muttered Bill Steen. “And the Lord only knows
+where it might come through.”
+
+“But it must come through,” said Mrs. Langdon hoarsely. “Don’t you see
+that it must get safely across?”
+
+“Ma’am,” said Bill Steen seriously, “are you tryin’ to bribe us?”
+
+“Bribe you? Don’t you realize that my little baby is in their hands? If
+that cargo----”
+
+“Yeah, that’s true. But why didn’t yuh keep still about it, ma’am?”
+
+“Oh, I don’t know.” Mrs. Langdon clasped her hands wearily. “I guess I
+just had to tell somebody.”
+
+“Do yuh reckon they took her across the line?” asked Dobie. “They
+prob’ly would, don’t cha think?”
+
+“Yes, I’m sure they did.”
+
+“Verdugo, likely,” nodded old Jim. “That gang down there are mostly all
+smugglers.”
+
+“Well, I dunno what we can do.” Bill Steen realized that they were
+helpless in the matter. “Sam Langdon was one of the gang and it kinda
+looks to me like he was goin’ to suffer for his sins.”
+
+“But I was not one of them!” Mrs. Langdon drew herself up and faced the
+grizzled old officer. “What about me?”
+
+“Yeah, that’s right. But what can we do? We can’t go into Mexico after
+the little girl, ma’am. The Lord knows there’s plenty of places for them
+to run the stuff across, but we can’t set here to-morrow night and leave
+the whole line unguarded.”
+
+“No, I suppose you can’t, but--” Mrs. Langdon turned wearily toward the
+door. “I just wanted you to know what happened to me. I suppose there is
+nothing to do but to just wait. I--I want my baby--Jane.”
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+She went softly out of the door and they watched her disappear in the
+moonlight, a pathetic little figure, going down the dusty road.
+
+Old Jim Cleveland swore softly and pulled on his boots. Dobie shuffled
+his feet and hitched at his cartridge-belt.
+
+“I wonder how much Sam Langdon had to do with it that night they got my
+dad?”
+
+Bill Steen sighed deeply and shook his head.
+
+“I dunno, Dobie. Sam Langdon may know who done it, but I don’t reckon he
+done it himself. He balked on runnin’ drugs, yuh remember. The fellers
+that stole the baby are ornery enough to do murder. But what in thunder
+can we do?”
+
+“Not a blasted thing!” exploded Baldy. “I wish I had a little army
+behind me. I’d go into Mexico and clean out the whole country. If
+Verdugo was wiped off the map, this wouldn’t be a bad little world to
+live in.”
+
+“Yuh gotta remember that it’s white men’s brains behind this, Baldy,”
+said Bill. “The Mexicans are bad enough, but it takes white men to pull
+off real smart deviltry.”
+
+“Well, I reckon I’ll go home,” said Dobie. “Much obliged for the beans
+and biscuits, Baldy.”
+
+“Boy, yo’re sure welcome,” grinned Baldy. “Come ag’in to-morrow and help
+us whip the rest of that pot, will yuh?”
+
+“I reckon I will,” nodded Dobie. “Buenas noches.”
+
+He swung onto his buckskin and went slowly down the road. He did not
+want to overtake Mrs. Langdon. Half-a-mile from the headquarters the
+road forked. The one to the right led straight into Mexico and was
+little used. It was on this road that Dan Dixon had been killed.
+
+Dobie drew up at the forks and considered the two roads. He knew it
+would be foolhardy for him to ride into Mexico. There were no laws in
+Verdugo, except the word of Gonzales, an outlaw. It was a hotbed of
+revolutionists, smugglers, outlaws of every description.
+
+There was an army in Verdugo; originally part of the Federal forces
+of Mexico, but now in the pay of Gonzales. Dobie knew that it would
+be suicide for any white man not connected with Gonzales to enter
+Verdugo.
+
+The buckskin moved restlessly, jingling the bit-chains, kicking up a
+film of the yellow dust.
+
+“Plumb anxious to be goin’, eh?” muttered Dobie. “All right, let’s move
+along.”
+
+He turned and headed toward Mexico, riding slowly down through the
+clumps of mesquite. A flare of light cut across the hills and he heard
+the spluttering of the flivver, as the officers turned at the forks and
+headed westward.
+
+A barbed-wire fence and gate marked the boundary between the United
+States and Mexico. Dobie stopped at the gate and listened. Far away
+he could hear the popping of the flivver, climbing one of the winding
+grades.
+
+Out in the Mexican hills a coyote barked snappily. Dobie opened the
+gate, led his horse through and closed it behind him. Then he mounted
+and rode swiftly toward Verdugo, three miles away.
+
+Dobie had no idea of what he was going to do at Verdugo, but was
+trusting to luck. The buckskin wanted to run, and Dobie gave it
+plenty of slack rein. There were no houses along the road, no sign
+of habitation, until he topped a rise and saw the lights of Verdugo
+below him.
+
+Practically every house in Verdugo was built of adobe brick. The main
+street was narrow and crooked, ankle deep in yellow dust. There was one
+cross street, which extended up a slight rise, at the top of which was
+the barracks, a long, one-story adobe.
+
+The main street ran east and west, and at the southeast corner of the
+street intersections was the cantina, or saloon. Dobie rode in at the
+north end of the cross street, which only extended a short block from
+the main street.
+
+There were no street lights in Verdugo. Yellow lights from oil lamps
+and candles glowed in the windows and helped to illuminate the
+streets, which were already bright from the moonlight. A number of
+saddled horses were tied to the many hitch-racks and wide-hatted
+Mexicans strolled the street. From the cantina came the strumming of
+a string-instrument orchestra, and somewhere a woman was singing a
+song of old Spain.
+
+Dobie rode boldly up the street, swinging to the right at the street
+intersections and dismounting at a hitch-rack. A Mexican walked past
+and Dobie asked him where Gonzales might be found. Dobie spoke in
+Spanish and the Mexican gave him the direction.
+
+Gonzales lived in a big adobe house about a block beyond the street
+intersections. The building was set back from the street and in front
+of it grew a large live-oak tree.
+
+Dobie sauntered down the opposite side of the street, and could see that
+a soldier guarded the front of the building. The man’s white cotton
+shirt was plainly visible and the moonlight glinted on his rifle-barrel.
+He went to the end of the street, passing several Mexicans, who paid him
+no heed, circled the buildings and came back to the rear of Gonzales’s
+house. As far as he could see, the rear was unguarded. A light glowed in
+one of the windows, which was set in the side of an L in the building.
+
+Dobie sneaked in cautiously and tried to peer into the window. He could
+hear a murmur of voices, but was unable to more than catch a glimpse of
+the interior. The single pane of glass was clouded and dirty, probably
+never having been cleaned since the house had been built.
+
+Came the sound of a soft footfall, and one of the guards walked around
+the corner, almost colliding with Dobie. He was a small Mexican in
+ill-fitting clothes and wide hat; looking in the half-light like a huge
+toadstool.
+
+He started back in affright and tried to throw up his rifle, but Dobie
+dove into him like a wildcat and they fairly pin-wheeled for a moment.
+The rifle went spinning away and they came to a stop against the wall
+of the next building.
+
+But the Mexican was no quitter. They surged to their feet, fighting
+silently. But Dobie’s volley of short-arm punches soon caused the
+Mexican to lose heart.
+
+He broke loose and tried to run, but Dobie crashed a fist to his midriff
+and he went flat on his face, yelping for all the saints to come to his
+aid.
+
+Dobie was slightly dazed and winded from the encounter, and as he
+started down the alley he ran into four more guards, who proceeded
+to pile up on him. By sheer weight of numbers they managed to subdue
+him, but not until he had succeeded in sending home a few blows that
+caused the guards to utter bitter imprecations against such doings.
+
+Unceremoniously they dragged him into the front door of Gonzales’s
+house, shoving him to the center of the room and standing back with
+raised rifles, covering him.
+
+Dobie’s lips were bleeding and one of his eyes had taken on a purple
+shade, but he grinned at the guards and turned to look at Gonzales,
+who was still slouched back in a chair, watching him.
+
+Gonzales was a gross figure of a man, wide of girth, short of legs and
+with a fat, evil countenance. His black beard was short and wiry and his
+mustache drooped wearily over a thick-lipped mouth. He regarded Dobie
+out of little, pig-like eyes.
+
+Another man was sitting at a table, partly in the shadow, but Dobie had
+seen this man before. It was Doc Carver. The door opened again and in
+came the guard that had first discovered Dobie. He was a much-mussed
+personage and was still short of breath.
+
+[Illustration: It was Doc Carver]
+
+“So, you caught the pig!” he panted. “Madre de Dios, but he is tricky!”
+
+“What is it about?” demanded Gonzales.
+
+Swiftly the guards explained the capture. Gonzales blinked over the
+information and shifted himself.
+
+“Habla Español?” he demanded of Dobie.
+
+“Si, señor,” nodded Dobie, and then in English: “You can talk United
+States as well as I can.”
+
+“You are ve-e-ery smart, yes?” queried Gonzales.
+
+“Not very,” admitted Dobie. “I should have run the other way.”
+
+Gonzales was not without a sense of humor, and he grinned softly.
+
+“What do you want here?” he demanded.
+
+“Sam Langdon’s little girl.” Dobie knew there was no use in lying about
+his mission.
+
+Carver turned his head slowly and looked at Gonzales. Dobie was watching
+him and felt that Carver knew considerable about the deal.
+
+“Who are you?” he asked.
+
+“Dobie Dixon. My dad was Dan Dixon.”
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Carver did not say anything more, so Dobie turned to Gonzales.
+
+“You look for a little girl, eh?” Gonzales seemed to be amused.
+
+“Yeah, I sure am,” said Dobie.
+
+“Why you look here?”
+
+“Why look anywhere else?” demanded Dobie.
+
+“Aw, why argue with him?” asked Carver of Gonzales.
+
+Gonzales grinned widely and shook his head.
+
+“No use. Take him to the barracks and see that he does not get away.”
+
+One of the guards prodded Dobie with the muzzle of his rifle and
+motioned toward the door.
+
+“Buenas noches, señor,” said Gonzales mockingly.
+
+Dobie’s hand dropped to his holster, but it was empty. Either the guards
+had taken it or he had lost it in the fight. The rifle-muzzle prodded
+him again.
+
+“Wait a minute,” said Dobie carelessly, “I want to ask a question.”
+
+Gonzales nodded and the guard stepped back. Dobie moved in close to
+the table on which rested the oil-lamp and, as he seemed to frame his
+question, he sprang forward and swept the lamp to the floor, plunging
+the room into darkness.
+
+And as the lamp crashed down, Dobie dropped flat on the dirt floor and
+rolled toward the wall. He had located the window with the dirty pane,
+and was taking a long chance.
+
+Gonzales spat a withering curse, and Dobie heard his chair splinter, as
+the guards crashed into him in their rush to recapture their man.
+
+“Stop it, you fools!” roared Carver. “Block that door!”
+
+Dobie’s hands had found the window, which was set in a deep embrasure,
+and as the guards stumbled for the door, he swung himself up to his
+knees, crossed his elbows in front of his face and plunged headlong out
+of the window.
+
+They had seen him just as he plunged, and a high-powered bullet screamed
+off the adobe near his ear, but he landed sitting down outside with
+hardly a scratch.
+
+Quickly he got to his feet and raced toward the hills to the rear of the
+house. He could hear the guards shouting, as they circled the house, but
+he was not afraid of them now.
+
+He swung to the left around an old corral, tripping over some loose
+boards, but managed to keep his feet.
+
+“Gotta get a gun!” he panted to himself. “Whole town will be on my trail
+pretty quick.”
+
+He had run to where he could look down the cross street, and saw several
+men running toward the cantina. To his right, just a short distance
+away, was the barracks, a white strip in the moonlight.
+
+“That’s where they were goin’ to put me,” he reflected. “I’ll betcha
+that’s the last place they’ll search.”
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+He kept off the main thoroughfare and sneaked to the barracks. The door
+was partly open; so he walked boldly inside. A candle, stuck in the neck
+of a bottle, was burning beside a huddle of blankets on the floor, and
+from the huddle came the sounds of some one snoring heavily.
+
+The room was a litter of blankets, straw, cooking utensils. Leaning
+against the wall was a number of old Mauser rifles and several
+bandoliers of cartridges were scattered on the floor.
+
+Dobie picked up a rifle and examined it. The clip was filled with
+cartridges. He picked up a belt of cartridges and buckled it around
+his waist. The sleeper grunted and changed positions, but did not
+wake up.
+
+He could hear men calling to each other and they appeared to be coming
+closer. He whirled back to the open door. Six or eight men were coming
+up the street toward the barracks, walking fast.
+
+Suddenly he realized that these men were coming after their rifles
+to join in the hunt for him. They were not over a hundred yards away
+now. He swung the Mauser to his shoulder and aimed to hit the ground
+just in front of them.
+
+The report of the rifle seemed to fairly split the world, and he heard
+the angry whine of the bullet as it spun down the street. For a moment
+the men stopped. Another bullet threw sand into them and they broke
+into a mad dash for safety; most of them going straight down the open
+street.
+
+Dobie whirled. The sleeper had come to life and was on his hands and
+knees, gawping at Dobie, who swung the muzzle of the rifle around and
+pulled the trigger. The bullet splatted into the ground just short of
+the dazed Mexican, who, with a scream for mercy, proceeded to roll
+himself half-way across the room, wrapping himself in every available
+blanket.
+
+Dobie turned back to the door. He could see quite a crowd near the
+cantina, so he lifted his gun and drove them to cover with a single
+shot. From the blanket-wrapped figure came a muffled voice, begging
+for mercy.
+
+Dobie jerked the door shut and dropped the bar. Then he softly crossed
+the room, stepped up on a stool and slid out through a rear window. He
+walked to the eastern end of the barracks and circled back toward the
+main street, keeping under cover as much as possible.
+
+“I’ve got ’em watchin’ the barracks,” he reflected with a grin at his
+own ingenuity. “That feller in the blankets won’t come out until they
+unroll him.”
+
+Dobie was satisfied that little Jane Langdon was a prisoner somewhere
+in Verdugo, and he had an idea that she might be in Gonzales’ house.
+He worked his way down to the rear of the main street. The whole town
+seemed to be awake to the fact that something had gone wrong. He could
+hear a woman’s shrill voice telling someone that a new revolution had
+started, and he chuckled to think that he was the revolution.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was a very dangerous position for a fifteen-year-old boy, but Dobie
+was of the desert breed; a breed that matures early. He knew that he
+could circle the town and get back to the line with a whole skin, but
+he did not come to Verdugo to go back alone.
+
+He came in at the rear of an adobe dwelling, where he stopped in the
+heavy shadow to rest a moment. Some men had stopped on the street and
+were arguing. He heard one of them demand that the others hurry with
+him to circle around behind the barracks.
+
+Two of them came down the alley and he could almost touch them as
+they went past. The third one came behind them. He was evidently in
+no hurry and complained peevishly about a sore foot. As he got close
+to Dobie, and just past him, he stopped, held his rifle between his
+knees and tried to light a cigaret.
+
+Dobie stepped out behind him, measured the distance and rapped the
+Mexican smartly over the head with the barrel of his rifle. The man
+grunted and dove forward into the dirt, his wide hat rolling aside.
+
+Dobie picked up the hat, flung his old sombrero toward the rear of
+the building, and walked straight out of the alley into the street.
+The Mexican grunted a few times, sat up and felt of his head. He was
+too dazed to even think what had happened to him.
+
+Dobie felt safer now. To outward appearances he was merely one of the
+Mexican soldiers, and the wide hat shaded his features from too keen
+eyes.
+
+Soldiers were running about the streets and quite a crowd had collected
+near the cantina, but keeping out of range of the barracks, Dobie went
+up the opposite side of the street and crossed the intersection. A
+Mexican called a warning to him to look out, but he went on across.
+
+On that corner was a frame building, one of the few frame buildings in
+the town. Dobie noticed that the front door was partly open. He walked
+a little further up the street. His buckskin was still tied to the
+hitch-rack, with two other horses.
+
+A man was hurrying down the street and caught sight of Dobie. It was an
+officer. He called to Dobie:
+
+“What are you doing here?”
+
+Dobie did not reply, but realized that he would have to explain why he
+was not among those sent to assault the barracks. The officer came up
+quickly, muttering a threat, and evidently expecting the poor soldier
+to run away from him, but Dobie did not run.
+
+“What are you doing here?” he repeated angrily.
+
+“Mindin’ my own business, hombre,” said Dobie in English, “and if you
+open your mouth I’ll lam yuh full of bullets; sabe?”
+
+“Dios! What is this? You----”
+
+“Shut up!” snapped Dobie, shoving the gun in his face. “You’re talkin’
+too loud.”
+
+“Si,” admitted the officer unwillingly.
+
+“Turn around,” ordered Dobie; “we’ll go over and visit Gonzales.”
+
+“He is not at home,” replied the officer in Spanish.
+
+“I’m glad to hear that,” grinned Dobie. “Start goin’, hombre.”
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+He herded the officer across the street and up to Gonzales’ house.
+The door was open and a single candle was burning on the table. Dobie
+directed the officer to take the candle and open the door of the rear
+room.
+
+Dobie had expected to find the little girl in that room, but he was
+doomed to disappointment. It was the sleeping quarters of Gonzales,
+and almost as bare of furniture as the main room.
+
+He backed the officer out of the room and stepped into the main room,
+just as Gonzales and Carver came in the front door. Gonzales recognized
+the officer with the candle, but did not realize that the Mexican with
+the rifle was the man that his whole army was searching for.
+
+“What are you doing in here?” he demanded of the officer, as he and
+Carver advanced toward the table. Dobie sidled toward the door, holding
+his gun ready for an attack.
+
+“Dios!” snorted the officer, almost dropping the candle. “There is the
+gringo!” He pointed at Dobie, who was nearing the door.
+
+“The gringo!” snapped Gonzales, and one of his fat hands dropped to his
+ornate belt, fumbling for a gun.
+
+Carver had turned and also reached for a gun. But Dobie was covering
+them with the rifle, as he backed toward the door, and Carver hesitated.
+He had no stomach for a Mauser bullet at that range, and he did not know
+just how accurate the boy might be.
+
+Dobie halted in the doorway and laughed at them.
+
+“Buenas noches, señors,” he called. “It’s my turn to say good-night, and
+I hope yuh choke on a snore.”
+
+He ducked aside and ran down the street toward his horse. He had decided
+to make a swift ride out of town and head for the border now. He had
+expected to find Jane Langdon in Gonzales’ house, and, failing in that,
+he had no idea of where to search.
+
+Someone shot at him from the doorway of Gonzales’ house and he heard the
+bullet splat into the wall of a house beside him. Another shot struck
+the dirt behind him, sending a shower of gravel against a window.
+
+He was almost to his horse when he saw several soldiers running toward
+him past the cantina, coming to see what the shooting was about. He
+swerved toward the building, getting the horses between him and the
+oncoming soldiers.
+
+Gonzales, Carver and the officer were running from the house, shouting
+orders to the soldiers, who stopped. Dobie slipped past the horses,
+and darted around the corner of the frame building. He heard one of
+the soldiers yelling that someone had just run around the corner, and
+a moment later he heard them clattering toward him.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+To run down the street would put him at the mercy of the whole army; so
+he ducked into the half-open doorway of the frame building and closed
+the door behind him.
+
+The soldiers raced past and Dobie breathed easier. He knew what would
+be his fate if he was caught. Gonzales was absolutely without mercy,
+and Dobie could look for no help from the United States. He had come
+there at his own risk, and just now he was beginning to realize what
+a risky thing he had done.
+
+Then he heard Gonzales and Carver talking excitedly, just outside the
+door. The knob grated and the door began to open slowly, as Carver came
+in.
+
+Dobie stepped behind the door, gripping his rifle. He felt sure that he
+would be discovered now. The door swung back almost against him and he
+heard Carver come in and walk part way across the room.
+
+Then he heard Carver curse witheringly.
+
+“You gave me a good guard, Gonzales!” he rasped.
+
+“What is wrong?” queried Gonzales.
+
+“He’s drunk as a fool, that’s what’s wrong. Wake up, you dog!”
+
+Dobie heard Carver kick the man, who whined drunkenly and tried to get
+up.
+
+“Full of tequila, eh?” snarled Carver, and then to Gonzales: “Have you
+no punishment for such as he?”
+
+“Have I not?” laughed Gonzales, and the drunken soldier whined for
+mercy.
+
+“He shall suffer for this,” declared Gonzales evenly. “Outside, you
+dog!”
+
+The soldier staggered toward the door, begging drunkenly for mercy and
+calling upon all the saints to witness that he had not touched a drop
+of liquor. Either Gonzales or Carver struck him a heavy blow and he
+fell sprawling into the street.
+
+“Let him lie there,” said Gonzales coldly. “I will have him tried in the
+morning.”
+
+“He deserves everything he will get,” declared Carver. “It was important
+that he keep awake.”
+
+“Very important,” agreed Gonzales. “I shall get you a trustworthy guard,
+my friend.”
+
+“Get two--half-a-dozen,” said Carver. “Get them now. I will stay here
+until they come, Gonzales.”
+
+“Esta buena, amigo,” said Gonzales. “But it may take time. The army is
+hunting the gringo. We should assist them. There is much danger for you
+if this man escapes.”
+
+“Man! He is only a boy.”
+
+“In age,” agreed Gonzales. “But in size and ability he is almost a man,
+my friend. And he is the son of Dixon, the border officer, who is now
+dead.”
+
+“You’ve got a fine army, if they can’t take one kid.” Carver was growing
+sarcastic now.
+
+“And if he escapes, you might regret it,” said Gonzales softly. “He
+knows who you are, my friend. The whole border will know that you are a
+dangerous man, and friends of Gonzales are not wanted, or”--Gonzales
+laughed softly--“are very much wanted on the other side of the border.”
+
+“I don’t appreciate your jokes, Gonzales. What do I care who or what he
+is? His father thought I was a smuggler, too, and tried to stop me. He
+was a fool. Now, go and get me half of your army to guard this place.”
+
+“As soon as the chase is ended,” said Gonzales, and went back up the
+street.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Dobie gripped his rifle and waited. He knew now that Doc Carver was the
+man who had killed his father, and he lost all fear of everything. But
+he did not lose his caution. Down in his heart he had sworn that Carver
+would pay the penalty of that deed.
+
+Carver was crossing the floor now, a dark blot in the room. He fumbled
+noisily at a lock for several moments and then opened a door. He was
+humming a Spanish melody, as he scratched a match and peered around.
+Then he stepped out of line with the door and Dobie heard him fumbling
+with a lamp.
+
+Dobie gripped the rifle under his arm, while he slipped off his boots.
+Somewhere outside a rifle cracked, but it was far away, and Dobie
+grinned. The army had split into separate sections and were probably
+shooting at each other.
+
+Softly he crossed the room and edged up to the door. Carver was standing
+with his back to the doorway, looking down at something. Dobie edged in
+behind him and almost prodded Carver in the back with the rifle muzzle
+before Carver realized that someone was behind him.
+
+He whirled on his heel and his face went black at sight of Dobie.
+But his face was no whiter than Dobie’s, and he shrank back at the
+expression of the youngster’s eyes. For several moments they looked
+at each other, and then Dobie said, almost in a whisper:
+
+“Carver, you killed my dad. I heard you admit it just a minute ago.
+Gonzales and his men may get me, but you won’t be a bit interested in
+it, ’cause I’m goin’ to kill you right now.”
+
+“No!” breathed Carver hoarsely, and the muscles of his face twitched
+nervously. “No, you can’t do that, kid.”
+
+Carver knew in his own heart that this kid was going to make good his
+threat, but he wanted to spar for time.
+
+“I can’t do it?” Dobie’s voice was as thin and vibrant as a
+fiddle-string, and the rifle muzzle did not waver a fraction of an
+inch. “You think I can’t do it?”
+
+Carver tried to swallow, but his throat contracted and he grimaced
+foolishly.
+
+“No--no!” he panted. “Think what it----”
+
+“I’ve thought,” said Dobie flatly. “They brought him home all busted
+up, Carver. He never spoke to me again. You ran him down and dragged
+him a long ways--but you won’t drag nobody ever again. You----”
+
+“Dobie!” It was the shrill cry of a child.
+
+For a fraction of a second Dobie shot a sideways glance in the direction
+of the voice, and he saw little Jane Langdon’s tousled head appear above
+a pile of blankets in the corner.
+
+[Illustration: Little Jane Langdon’s tousled head appear above a pile
+of blankets in the corner]
+
+But in that fraction of a second Doc Carver had flung himself headlong
+into Dobie and they went backwards into the door, crashing it shut and
+sending the rifle spinning across the room.
+
+Carver was much bigger and stronger than Dobie. He was well versed in
+the art of rough-and-tumble fighting and anticipated little trouble in
+disposing of Dobie. But that was where he made his fatal mistake--he
+underrated his opponent.
+
+They crashed down against the closing door, shutting it with a bang
+that shook the whole house. Dobie squirmed loose and hooked one arm
+over the back of Carver’s neck. Carver surged to his hands and knees,
+driving Dobie against the wall and trying to tear him loose, but Dobie
+clung like a leech.
+
+Carver swore viciously and threw himself backwards, breaking Dobie’s
+hold, and they both got to their feet. Little Jane was watching them,
+wide-eyed, and now she called again:
+
+“Dobie, I want my mama!”
+
+Carver grinned crookedly and moved in, shoulders hunched and arms
+swinging loosely. Dobie did not move, except to balance himself on the
+balls of his feet. He had lost his wide hat and his face looked white
+and drawn in the yellow light.
+
+Then Carver darted in and swung viciously at him. Carver was not a
+boxer, and Dobie knew just where the blow was due to strike. Almost
+without his own volition, he glided aside and swung upward with his
+clenched fist.
+
+Carver’s blow missed him by inches, but Dobie felt his own fist meet
+flesh and Carver staggered aside, throwing up his left arm to guard
+his damaged face. It was the first time that Dobie had ever hit a
+man, and it seemed absurdly simple. It thrilled him to think that he
+had been able to tell just where Carver’s blow was to strike, and
+that he had been able to drive his own fist so neatly.
+
+But Carver was not badly hurt. Dobie’s blow had taught him caution, and
+this time he was more careful. Instead of trying to land a damaging
+blow, he attempted to pin the boy against the wall. But Dobie was
+cat-like in his stocking-feet and he danced away from Carver’s rush.
+
+They came together in the middle of the room and Carver managed to drive
+a hard smash to Dobie’s shoulder, but got a bunch of hard knuckles in
+his mouth as a receipt. He dropped back, spitting out the remnant of a
+tooth.
+
+“No, yuh don’t!” he gritted, as Dobie circled toward the lamp. “None of
+that lamp smashin’!”
+
+“Huh!” grunted Dobie. “I don’t want it out, Carver. I want plenty of
+light to see to lick yuh good.”
+
+“Yeah?” Carver rushed swiftly, but this time Dobie did not retreat. In
+fact, he darted ahead, catching Carver off his balance. They crashed
+together, both of them striking wildly, and Dobie got a blow between the
+eyes that dazed him for a moment. Luckily for him, one of his ill-timed
+blows had caught Carver on the nose, and that worthy was in no condition
+to follow up his advantage.
+
+For several moments they faced each other, both trying to regain their
+senses. They were close together, and as Carver jerked his hand away
+from his damaged nose, Dobie drove his fist square against it again. It
+was not a hard blow, but it seemed to drive Carver wild.
+
+Mouthing a curse, he sprang for Dobie, reaching for him with both hands,
+but Dobie sprang backwards, keeping out of his reach. He was more secure
+on his feet than Carver, but it was impossible for him to keep out of
+Carver’s reach for long.
+
+The room was cluttered up with several boxes, piles of blankets, table
+and a chair, which only gave them part of the room with a clear floor.
+
+Carver was breathing heavily now. His nose was so badly damaged that he
+was forced to breathe through his mouth, and his curses were fewer now.
+Around and around the cleared space they circled. Carver struck wildly
+several times, and the effort seemed to tire him.
+
+He went slower now, keeping to the center of the room and forcing Dobie
+to cover the longer distance. Dissipation was telling on Carver. His
+recuperative powers were weakened. But Dobie was not tired. The strange
+tenseness he had felt at the beginning had left him and he did not fear
+Carver now.
+
+Then he realized that it was only a matter of a few minutes until
+Gonzales would come with the soldiers. Carver knew this, too, and he
+was willing to prolong the battle.
+
+Then Dobie assumed the aggressive. He advanced toward Carver, who eyed
+him malevolently. He struck a light blow at Carver, who threw up an arm
+to block it, but did not attempt to strike back. Dobie drew back and
+grinned.
+
+“Kinda got enough, eh?”
+
+Carver did not speak. Dobie backed away a little and glanced swiftly
+around. Near the door was the rifle, lying across a box. Carver knew
+what was in Dobie’s mind. His own gun was on the opposite side of the
+door, where it had fallen from its holster, and now he cursed himself
+for not using the gun at first instead of trying to subdue this young
+wild-cat with his hands.
+
+Suddenly Dobie made a feint, as though to try and get one of the guns.
+Quick as a flash, Carver darted to intercept him. It was what Dobie
+knew he would do, and instead of going after the guns he dove sideways
+into Carver, knocking him almost into the table.
+
+And before Carver could realize what had happened, Dobie tore into him
+with both hands. Dobie’s first smashing uppercut was the blow that
+robbed Carver of any chance to win the battle. It struck fair and true
+to the point of the jaw, and Carver sagged at the knees.
+
+Blindly, wildly, Dobie rained blow after blow to Carver’s head and face.
+There was no science, no judging of distance, no objective--nothing but
+a smash, smash, smash, with both arms working like flails.
+
+Dobie was panting, blubbering, half-crying, as he drove Carver backwards
+to a pile of blankets, where he caught his heel and went down in a heap
+against the wall.
+
+Dobie caught himself and staggered against the wall, where he stood and
+panted the air back into his aching lungs. His arms ached numbly and his
+hands were bruised and bleeding.
+
+But he had whipped a grown man! In a fair fight he had vanquished a
+big opponent--knocked him out. The little girl was crying bitterly
+from fright, but Dobie only panted and tried to grin at her.
+
+Then he staggered over and got the two guns. He did not know where
+Gonzales and his army were--and did not care just now. Carver was trying
+to get to his feet, but he sank back when Dobie prodded him with the
+rifle. He was completely whipped; so badly dazed that he did not seem to
+know what had happened.
+
+There were several pack-saddles in the room, and a number of coils of
+rope. One of them was made of maguey fiber, a thin, tough rope that has
+little tendency to stretch.
+
+Dobie selected this one and walked over to Carver.
+
+“Get over on your face,” he ordered hoarsely. Carver gaped at him, but
+obeyed.
+
+Dobie tied the rope tightly above his left elbow, drew Carver’s right
+arm across his back and tied that elbow in the same manner. This drew
+Carver’s elbows together behind him. Then he threw a half-hitch around
+Carver’s neck, and ordered him to get to his feet.
+
+“Yo’re goin’ to act sweet,” said Dobie softly. “If I yank this maguey
+rope tight, you’ll plumb choke to death, Carver. This stuff won’t slip.”
+
+But Carver did not speak. His swollen face twitched and he groaned with
+pain, but he was perfectly helpless to do anything, except hope for the
+best.
+
+The little girl stumbled across the blankets to Dobie. She had not been
+harmed in any way and Carver had not even roped her, but there had been
+no way for her to have escaped.
+
+“You take me to my mama?” she asked tearfully.
+
+“Gosh, I dunno,” admitted Dobie. “It kinda looks like I’d bit off more
+than I can chaw.”
+
+He was examining the articles in the room, while Carver watched him
+malevolently. Suddenly it dawned upon Dobie that these things were the
+drugs that were to be sent across the border on the following night.
+
+He began piling them up in the center of the room and Carver watched him
+curiously.
+
+“Whatcha tryin’ to do?” asked Carver thickly.
+
+“Never mind me,” replied Dobie. He did not know that the monetary value
+of that shipment ran into thousands of dollars, and that this was to be
+Carver and Gonzales’ big clean-up of the season. He only knew that this
+stuff was to be smuggled across the border, stuff that every normal
+minded person detested above all things.
+
+He finished piling the things and turned to Carver.
+
+“Get upon your feet, hombre; we’re goin’ to travel.”
+
+“Where do yuh think we’re goin’?” asked Carver sullenly.
+
+Dobie shook his head. “I dunno. We’re pointin’ away from Verdugo, if
+that helps yuh any.”
+
+Carver tried to grin. “You won’t get far, kid.”
+
+“Mebbe not, but we’re goin’ to start.”
+
+Carver got to his feet and tested his bound arms, but found that the
+thin rope only drew tighter. There was nothing he could do, except
+to obey this kid and pray that Gonzales and his men might not be too
+late. Inwardly he promised himself sweet satisfaction, when he did
+get this kid in his power.
+
+Dobie picked little Jane up in his arms.
+
+“Want to ride?” he grinned. “All right. Turn around, Carver.”
+
+“What’s the idea?” growled Carver.
+
+“You packed her here; so yuh can pack her back home. Turn around.”
+
+Dobie placed Jane on Carver’s back and told her to hang on to his neck.
+She was frightened and protested that she did not like that man, but
+Dobie assured her that the bad man couldn’t hurt her now and that it was
+too far for her to walk.
+
+“You can’t get away with this, kid,” assured Carver. “They’ll get yuh
+when yuh leave here.”
+
+“I s’pose. But dad used to say that the things we worry about the most
+never happen. Get over by the door.”
+
+Dobie opened the door, but kept the rope looped around his arm, while he
+extinguished the lamp. Then he unscrewed the top of the lamp and poured
+the kerosene over the pile of drugs.
+
+“Don’t do that!” roared Carver. “You fool! What are you going to do?”
+
+Dobie’s reply was to scratch a match and drop it into the bundles.
+The oil exploded into flame almost instantly, and a moment later the
+valuable lot of drugs was a blazing mass. A cloud of black smoke
+billowed out of the door as Dobie drove Carver ahead of him out into
+the street.
+
+“Don’t cha try to yelp,” warned Dobie. “You peep just once and I’ll yank
+this loop tight.”
+
+Some soldiers were coming down from the barracks, and another group were
+crossing the street at the east end of town. Dobie drove his man around
+the corner toward the hitch-rack. The little girl was game. She clung to
+Carver’s neck and braced her knees between his bound elbows.
+
+There were several horses at the hitch-rack. Dobie untied his buckskin.
+The fire had spread rapidly and the seasoned old building burned like
+tinder. From across at the cantina came a yelp of alarm, and Dobie knew
+that it would only be a short time until all of Verdugo would come to
+the fire.
+
+The horses seemed to sense the danger, especially the buckskin, which
+reared and tried to break away. The fire was sending up a billow of
+smoke now, and soldiers were running in from every direction. Dobie
+looked back toward the cantina and saw Gonzales and three soldiers
+coming swiftly toward the corner.
+
+Quickly he drew his pocket-knife, cut loose all of the horses, and they
+galloped away in a group, with the buckskin leading them. Then Dobie
+shoved Carver into the narrow alley between the burning building and the
+low adobe which joined it. Some of the soldiers had seen the galloping
+horses and yelled the information to Gonzales, who ran to the corner.
+
+“The gringo escaped and took the other horses with him,” panted a
+soldier, whom Dobie recognized as being the officer he had captured.
+
+“Diable!” swore Gonzales. “We’ll never get him now. Back to the fire and
+find Carver, if possible. That kid is a devil! Hurry!”
+
+They ran back into the crowd. Dobie shoved Carver down the narrow alley,
+turned to the left at the rear of the adobe building and headed straight
+for the line. Behind them the flames of the burning building painted the
+sky a glowing red, and Carver cursed weakly.
+
+[Illustration: Behind them the flames of the burning building painted
+the sky red]
+
+Half-an-hour later Dobie halted Carver. In front of them bulked the dim
+shape of an automobile. A spot-light flashed and the beams illuminated a
+white sign on the side of the car, which read:
+
+                    UNITED STATES REVENUE OFFICERS
+
+Dobie laughed joyously as he yelled:
+
+“Get that one-lunged flivver out of my road. I’m smugglin’ the
+smuggler.”
+
+“Dobie!” called Bill Steen. “Is that you, Dobie?”
+
+“I’m one of us,” he laughed.
+
+Three flashlights played upon them from different directions, and from
+Baldy’s lips came a whoop.
+
+“He’s got the little girl!”
+
+They crowded in around him and Bill Steen lifted Jane off Carver’s back.
+She was very sleepy and very tired, but she grinned in spite of it.
+
+“This looks like a feller by the name of Carver,” said Bill Steen
+wonderingly. “Kinda looks like he’d spoke out of turn, though. Where
+does he come in on this deal, Dobie?”
+
+“He killed my dad, Bill. I heard him tell it to Gonzales; so I brought
+him along.”
+
+“Gonzales, eh? You been to Verdugo?”
+
+“Yeah, I--I sure have, Bill.”
+
+“What’s the big fire yuh can see over there?” asked Baldy.
+
+“That’s the drug store, Baldy. I’ll betcha there won’t be no drugs
+crossing the line for quite a while. I set the whole works on fire.
+I’ve lost my horse, but he’ll come home--and probably smuggle a lot
+of Mexican horses across with him.”
+
+“I--I want my mama,” said little Jane.
+
+“She’s sure lookin’ for yuh, little lady,” said Bill. “We’ll take yuh
+home right away,” and then to Dobie, “You took an awful chance in goin’
+to Verdugo, don’t cha know it?”
+
+Dobie grinned widely in the glare of the flashlights.
+
+“I suppose I might as well make the best of it,” said Carver, before
+Dobie could reply, “so there’s no use kickin’ against what’s comin’
+to me, but I’d just like to inform you bloodhounds that the town of
+Verdugo and my friend Gonzales were taking awful chances when they
+gave this kid reasons for coming across the border.”
+
+“Yeah,” admitted Bill seriously; “he’s got the makin’s of a good man.”
+
+“Good man!” snorted Carver. “He’s got the makings of a whole blasted
+army.”
+
+Five minutes later the flivver spluttered into life and rattled back
+over the rutty roads, while far back across the border the red glow
+died out of the sky, and a coyote barked snappily.
+
+It was all in a night’s work.
+
+-----------------------------------------------------------------------
+
+                         Transcriber’s Note
+
+Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in the October and November,
+1923 issues of Boy’s Life magazine. This story is believed to be in
+the public domain in the United States. Please note that copyright
+status may differ in other countries.
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78767 ***