CHAPTER VII

THE FRANCISCAN MISSION

“Now, I wonder,” Jimmie mused as he was forced along by the two half-breeds, “whether I won’t get a chance before long to show these ginks how fast I can run. I sure could do something of a stunt on my feet if I had an opportunity right now.”

During one of the brief breathing spells, when the half-breeds paused for an instant on a level ledge of rock, the boy turned to the east and faced the pines in the vicinity of which he had been captured. In the distance he could see the granite finger sticking up like a mile-post in the green of the trees.

“Judging from the course we have taken, and the distance we have traveled,” the boy mused, “we ought to be somewhere in the vicinity of the parallelogram I saw in the snow. Only,” he added ruefully, “it’s quite a climb up to that point yet.”

He was thinking of the story Gilroy had told of the ruined mission; of the walls in ruins, and the subterranean rooms and passages farther back in the heart of the hill.

“It would just be my luck,” he mused grimly, “to discover that ruined mission, and lead the way into the basement of that old peak. If I get a chance to break away from these half-breeds, I’ll make a run in that direction anyway.”

From that time on the boy pretended great fatigue. He insisted on frequent rests, and always lay down panting whenever his captors halted in their clumsy ascent of the slope. The half-breeds regarded the boy with scornful glances at such times, as if expressing contempt for one unable to endure an ordinary journey up a mountainside.

The boy was perfectly willing that they should believe him to be exhausted by his efforts. When, after a few short rests, they dropped their hands away from his arms, he experienced a thrill of hope.

At last his opportunity came. The half-breeds became less watchful as time passed on. They even turned their snaky eyes away from him at times, looking over the valley below and conversing together in a language he could not understand.

Watching his opportunity, when their eyes were directed in another direction, the boy sprang away and ran as nimbly as a mountain goat up the acclivity. The half-breeds were so astonished at the sudden action of the boy; so utterly bewildered by the speed he made, that for a moment they made no effort to stop him.

When at last they sprang after him, threatening to shoot if he did not halt instantly, it was too late. Jimmie passed around a ledge of rock and was soon out of their sight.

The remainder of that race for freedom always came back to the boy’s mind as a bit of nightmare. He ran swiftly along ledges, bounded over boulders, dipped breathlessly into gulches, and clung to precipitous sides with his bare fingers until it seemed that he must drop from sheer exhaustion. At last he came to a canyon wider and deeper than any which he had yet encountered.

He scrambled down the slope, always pursued by fragments of rocks from above, and presently landed a hundred feet below on a shelf which seemed to promise temporary safety. Panting and trembling from the exertion, came in every limb, he listened for sounds of pursuit but none came to his ears.

Sitting on the narrow ledge, his back against an almost vertical wall, he realized that he had climbed to a great distance, for he shivered in his warm clothing and the sharp sting of frosty air was in his nostrils. Without knowing it, he had actually entered the region of snow.

After a time composure came back with his breath, and he began looking around in the hope of finding some way out which did not lead in the direction his pursuers were probably taking. Then his attention was attracted to the shelf upon which he sat.

It seemed to him that at some time in the distant past crude steps had been cut in the ledge and along the wall leading into the gorge below. Melting snows and the storms of many winters had, in a measure, obliterated the sharp outlines of the treads, but still the boy saw the work of man in the arrangement.

After a time he arose lamely to his feet and walked along in the direction pointed out by the crude stairway. Directly he came to an opening in the wall of the precipice.

Realizing that the cave would at least serve as a hiding place, the boy entered and looked about. The place was dark and damp. A flock of bats, stirred into activity by his approach, flew in his face and winged their way toward the brilliant sunshine beyond.

Jimmie would have given a good deal just at that time for one of the dozen or more searchlights which lay at the camp. There was no knowing how far the passage extended into the mountain, and it was very dark.

For all he knew it might be intersected by passages worn away by subterranean streams. Presently he remembered that a good supply of matches which he had acquired that morning had not been taken away from him. Lighting one, he saw that the floor of the passage was remarkably smooth and free from obstructions. The walls were also smooth, and held, here and there, shallow openings which seemed to have been artificially produced. As he proceeded through the tunnel-like place he became aware of a damp chill wind blowing directly upon him.

As the passage narrowed, the current of air became stronger, and before long the boy found it impossible to use matches without wasting them. Presently he found that by extending his arms he could touch the walls on either side. The stones were, of course, damp and loathsome to the touch.

Only for a remarkable discovery made through the medium of his fingers, he might then have abandoned further investigation of the grewsome place. His discovery was this:

The passage through which he was moving was of artificial construction!

The walls showed traces of rude chisel work!

After a time the walls drew back so that he was unable to reach them even by taking a few steps to right and left. It seemed, too, that he had passed out of the current of air.

“It’s dollars to rotten apples,” mused the boy, exultant though anxious, “that I have blundered into some old-time robber den, or into the subterranean rooms of the old Franciscan mission.”

The thought was exhilarating, and the boy notwithstanding the peril in which he believed himself to be, danced gaily about for a moment. As he did so, one foot slipped over the edge of a declivity and he went rolling down, down, in the darkness to a lower level.

“Whoever built this idiotic contraption,” the boy declared, feeling of his arms and legs to see if they were still whole, “neglected to put in elevators, but I found a way to get down stairs, all the same!”

While the boy sat on the rocky floor rubbing the bruised knee upon which he had fallen, a ray of light shone upon a wall directly in front of him. He turned quickly about and saw the round eye of a searchlight fixed upon the ceiling.

He crouched closer to the floor and waited. It seemed to him that the person in charge of the light must have seen him. Still he hoped that such was not the case. The light advanced nearer to where he sat and so he crawled stealthily away.

“I am a child of fortune, sure enough!” chuckled the boy after the immediate danger of discovery had passed. “First thing I know, I’ll find a banquet room in here with a table loaded down with haunches of venison and great tankards of nut-brown ale.”

While the boy crouched in the corner the light passed him and turned into a passage leading to the east. Then he heard the sound of voices—low, fierce voices, speaking in English.

“And you let him escape!” one said.

“I tell you he rose up in the air and flew like a bird!” another voice exclaimed. “No living person ever saw such an exhibition before!”

“But still, you let him escape!” the first speaker repeated.

“He only got away!” was the answer. “He is somewhere in this vicinity and we’ll get him before nightfall.”

“As well look for a diamond in the bottom of the Atlantic!” snarled the other. “I have sent the men out in the search, but have no hope of their getting hold of him.”

“That’s me!” mused Jimmie. “That’s me they’re talking about trying to get hold of.”

“Well, we may as well go back to camp,” said the first speaker. “There is no profit in arguing here.”

Jimmie crept forward toward the light and saw a large, fat, smooth-faced man and a tall man with a thin face standing in a narrow chamber which seemed to have been fairly well furnished once, but which now held only decaying tables, chairs and couches. It was the tall, dark man who held the light. As Jimmie looked, he laid it down on a tottering table to make and light a cigarette.

His mind busy with a daring thought, Jimmie crept into the chamber and watched for the opportunity he sought. The men were talking together in lower tones now, and seemed to be very much interested in the subject under discussion. As they spoke, they both walked excitedly up and down the little chamber, brushing against the decaying articles of furniture whenever they by chance left the pathway shown by the light.

Jimmie advanced toward the table and finally succeeded in crawling under it. Then, waiting until they were at the farther end of their promenade, at the extreme distance from the lamp, he reached cautiously out and switched off the light.

In the darkness which followed he gave the table a slight push and sent it clattering to the floor and, with the light in his possession, darted out in the direction of the passage by which he had entered.

“Now, we’ll have a job finding that electric!” one of the men said angrily. “Light a match, will you?”

“I have just used my last match,” was the discouraging reply.

“Well, I never carry matches,” the first speaker said, “but we ought to be able to find the electric easily enough in the darkness.”

“Strange what made it go out,” one said.

“Didn’t you hear the table fall?” demanded the other.

“I remember now,” was the answer. “The lamp is probably broken, so we may as well find our way out without looking for it.”

“You have my permission to do that,” chuckled Jimmie from his now secure hiding place.

The two men stumbled about in the darkness for a minute, and the boy knew that they were feeling their way to some entrance other than the one by which he had found his way into the cave. Before long their footsteps and their voices died away, and then he advanced into the little chamber where they had stood.

“The old mission, all right!” he thought.

While he looked around other footsteps were heard, followed by the sound of a struggle.

“Hold fast!” some one shouted.

“Hold fast yourself!” was the smothered reply. “What do you mean by letting go of the fellow in that way?”

“I didn’t let go. I’ve got hold of him yet!”

“Oh, you fool!” shouted the other. “That’s my arm you’ve got hold of! Where’s your light?”

“I dropped it in the fight,” was the answer. “Go on away and get one. He’s somewhere in the cave, and it’s a sure thing he can’t get out. Tell the boys to guard all the entrances. That fool of a Toombs did a smart thing when he told us we needn’t keep him tied!”

Jimmie heard running footsteps for an instant and then came silence.

“Now I wonder,” he thought, “if they’ve gone and captured some of the boys and brought them here. They may have the whole bunch by this time for all I know. I wonder if I dare turn on this light.”

Instead of doing so, however, he sat perfectly still and listened to a soft tread approaching the spot where he stood. Whoever the visitor was, he was short of breath for he came along panting as if winded by a long struggle.

“I’ll take a chance on the light,” he mused.

And the next instant the room was illuminated.