CHAPTER XX.

RALPH A TRUE HERO.

"Ralph!"

The voice sounded in the boy's ears like the chiming of a far-away bell. Lying prone on the floor of the tunnel, overcome by the foul gases, he had been unconscious, he did not know for how long, when he felt his shoulders roughly shaken and Walt Phelps' voice in his ear.

His head ached terribly, and he felt weak and dizzy, but he struggled to reply.

"Oh, Walt, what is it? What has happened?"

"Why, we've all been knocked out, I guess," said Walt; "but the gas must be escaping, now, for although my head still feels as if a boiler factory was at work in it, I can think and feel."

The professor's voice now struck in as he recovered consciousness.

"Boys!" he exclaimed. "Are you there?"

"Yes, yes, professor; do you feel strong enough to move?"

"I think so. It is important that we should get out of here at once. I imagine that the gas must have become so distributed by this time that it has lost its harmful effect, but we must get to the open air."

"I agree with you," chimed in Ralph.

"What, Ralph, my boy, you here?" exclaimed the professor. "Why, you were far in advance. How do you come to be with us now?"

As modestly as he could, Ralph related how he had turned back into the black tunnel.

"That was bravely done, bravely done, my boy," exclaimed the professor warmly.

Even in the darkness Ralph colored with pleasure, as Walt added his praise to the scientist's.

Soon after they started for the entrance of the tunnel once more, Ralph having told them of his discovery of the shaft.

"Possibly there are steps cut in it. Let us hope so," said the professor. "If there are not, we shall be as badly off as before, for we cannot get back through the tunnel."

"No," said Ralph with a shudder, "I would not face the horrors of the place again for a whole lot."

A careful investigation of the shaft soon revealed, to their great joy, that a flight of steps had indeed been cut in it, doubtless to enable the old Mission dwellers to ascend and descend from the surface of the earth when they desired.

"The question now is," said the professor suddenly, "where are we? On what sort of ground will these steps lead us out?"

"Give it up," said Walt. "I should judge, though, we must have come a mile or more through the tunnel."

"Quite that," agreed the professor.

"Well, the only way to find out our location is to climb up and see what we come out on," said Ralph, to put an end to the hesitation. "Who'll be first up?"

There was quite an argument over this, the professor declaring that, as he was the eldest, he ought to assume the danger. Ralph ended it by springing on to the first of the rough and slippery steps himself.

"Come on," he cried, though in a lowered tone.

A few seconds of climbing brought the boy to the mouth of the shaft. It was quite thickly over-grown with brush, and had evidently not been used for many years. For an instant Ralph hesitated before he shoved through the scrub surrounding the entrance, but when he did so, and stood outside the natural barrier with the professor and Walt Phelps beside him, he uttered an exclamation of unbounded astonishment, which was echoed by his companions.

Before them the moon was rising, tingeing the tops of the distant range with a silvery light. The illumination also flooded the scene before them.

They stood in a sort of vast, natural basin, of considerable extent, surrounded by rocky walls.

"It's a sunken valley," exclaimed Ralph.

And so it was, in fact.

"Look at the cattle and horses, will you?" cried the practical Walt Phelps, who had been gazing about him.

"Sure enough. There must be several score head of stock in here," was Ralph's astonished cry.

"Say," exclaimed Walt suddenly, "do you know what I believe?"

"What?" inquired Ralph.

"That by accident we have stumbled upon Black Ramon's pasturage."

"What!--the place where he keeps the stolen cattle and horses?"

"That's the idea."

"Say, I believe you are right, and, speaking of that, there's something very familiar looking about that little buckskin pony, feeding off there." Ralph pointed at a small animal cropping the grass some ten rods away. "If that isn't Petticoats--the one that tumbled me into the canal--I'll lose a bet, that's all."

"I believe you're right," cried Walt Phelps; "and that other pony beyond, is the dead spit of Firewater, Jack Merrill's favorite mount."

"And, if I mistake not, that large, bony animal yonder, regarding me with a suspicious optic, is the equine I bestrode at the time we were captured," exclaimed the professor, who had been looking eagerly about him.

"Boys, this is a wonderful discovery," he went on. "I have read of these sunken valleys, but have never seen one before; I should like to examine the geological formation hereabouts."

"Some other time," laughed Ralph; "what I wonder at is that the Mexicans never discovered the secret passage."

"That's not surprising," chimed in Walt Phelps, "the mouth of it is all screened with thick brush, and unless you fairly fell into it you would never know it was there."

"That is so," agreed the professor, "but now, boys, that we are once more in the blessed air, what are we to do?"

"My advice would be to press on till we can find some village. Once there, we shall be safe, and can find some soldiers, or, at least, summon them from wherever their garrison may be. It is our duty to Jack Merrill and Coyote Pete to use every means in our power to save them," said the professor, who, of course was, like his companions, ignorant of the fact that at that very minute the two he spoke of were riding over the distant foothills for their lives.

This also explained why the party that had just emerged from the tunnel were not molested. Every man that could be spared from immediate guard duty had been summoned to help form the great human circle, which, as we know, Ramon had attempted to spread about Jack Merrill and the sagacious cow-puncher.

"There doesn't seem to be anybody about," said Walt, after a short silence, "let's get in the shadow of the rock wall and creep forward."

"Better yet, if we only had some rope," suggested Ralph.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, both Petticoats and the other two ranch horses seem to be friendly, why couldn't we ride them?"

"The very thing, if only we could make hackamores," cried Walt.

As Ralph had remarked, the ranch horses had come closer, and were sniffing curiously. To the boy's delight, he now saw that they had halters on. As is often done in the West, when the start had been made from the ranch the bridles had been placed on over the halters, so that when the Mexicans turned the stolen ponies loose, being too lazy to remove the halters, they had left them in place.

"Coax 'em," whispered Walt, holding out his hand flat, as if he had something in it.

Ralph and the professor did the same, and, hesitatingly, and with many snorts, the ponies drew closer, including the professor's raw-boned mount. As they suddenly gathered up courage, and came right up to the boys, each seized his pony by the halter. The professor followed their example instantly.

"Now, to mount," said Walt. "By hookey, I tell you I feel better when I get a pony under me again."

But the boys' attention was suddenly diverted to the professor, who was endeavoring to mount his tall animal, which stood meekly awaiting the conclusion of his efforts. The professor had never mounted a bareback horse before, and imagined, apparently, that the correct method was to shin up the quadruped's forelegs. The boys, notwithstanding their risky situation, could not forbear roaring with laughter at his comical efforts.

"Put one hand on his withers, and the other on his back, and then spring upward," said Walt; "you'll find it easy, then."

The professor obediently doubled his long legs under him, placed his hands as directed, and gave a mighty spring.

Bump!

Such a mighty leap did he give that he over-shot the mark, and came down in a heap on the other side. He gave a groan as he alighted.

"What's the matter?" demanded Ralph, almost doubled up with laughter at the weird spectacle.

"Oh, boys, I am in pain. I've landed on my os ridiculosus."

"Your what?" shouted Walt.

"My os ridiculosus--my funny bone. Ouch!"

The professor groaned aloud as he held his elbow and rocked back and forth. The big, bony horse looked meekly around at him, as much as to say: "Don't blame me, it wasn't my fault."

"Here, we'll give you a hand," said Walt, coming around to the professor's side and leading Firewater. Ralph followed his example. Together they hoisted the professor on to the back of his scrawny mount.

"Why, this feels like sitting on a clothes horse," grumbled the professor, as he felt the bony elevation of the gray's spinal column.

"Never mind, can't be helped," laughed Ralph, springing on Petticoats' broad back, while Walt mounted Firewater, "we'll make a circus rider of you yet, professor."

"Not on this horse, please," remonstrated the man of science, as all three animals were urged to a fast trot.

The boys decided that as there was no one in sight, the Mexicans had left the valley unguarded for the night, and so did not hesitate to make all the speed they could. As a matter of fact, the valley was seldom visited except when a shipment of stolen cattle or ponies was required. It was, as the professor had said, a natural basin from which there was but one outlet, and that the boys were shortly to find.

For some time they rode along in the dark shadow of the rocky walls, which varied in height from about twenty feet to small precipices of a hundred feet or more.

"Say, it looks as if there wasn't any way out of this basin," began Ralph finally, in an impatient tone.

"There must be," replied Walt; "otherwise, how did they get the cattle and ponies into it?"

"Dropped 'em from a balloon, by the looks of it," rejoined Ralph, with a good-natured laugh at his own stupidity.

"Indeed, it looks as if such might have been the case," said the professor, "for all the visible sign there is of a pathway."

"Hold on! What's that there, dead ahead of us?" exclaimed Walt suddenly.

He had been riding a little in advance, and now drew rein abruptly and pointed to a darker shadow which lay against the gloom of the rock wall.

"Looks like a path," admitted Ralph.

"It's a camino, sure enough," cried Walt, the next instant.

"A what?"

"A camino, a trail, you know."

"Well, I don't care what you call it, so long as it gets us out of here," exclaimed Ralph, eagerly pressing forward.

As Walt had guessed, the darker shadow, on closer investigation, proved to be a rugged trail leading at a steep incline out of the sunken valley. In a few seconds after its discovery their horses' hoofs were clattering up it.

"Great heavens, if there is any one about they'll think there's a charge of cavalry coming," cried Ralph.

"Can't be helped," rejoined Walt, "we've nothing to muffle them with. In any event, if they were to discover us, we shouldn't stand a chance."

But they reached the apparent summit of the trail, and a rough gate, without adventure. It was only the work of a few instants to open the portal, and, after riding a few hundred yards, they found themselves on a billowy expanse of rolling foothills. Far off flashed lights, and to their north the vague outlines of the Sierra de la Hacheta faintly showed.

"Where are we going to ride to, now?" asked Ralph.

"Anywhere away from those lights," rejoined Walt, pointing behind them; "that's the mission. I guess they are looking for us now, and it's going to be 'bad medicine' if they get us."

"Oh, dear," groaned the professor, "I cannot imagine any worse punishment than riding this bony brute. His backbone makes me feel like being seated on a cross-cut saw."

"Never mind, professor, if we can only strike a town of some sort, we shall soon be out of our misery," laughed Ralph. "Come on, then, forward!"

He kicked Petticoats' fat sides, and the little buckskin leaped forward, followed by the others. All that night they rode, and by daybreak reached a small village--a mere huddle of huts, in fact. But it had its dignitaries, as they were soon to find out. As they clattered down its main street, scores of raggedly clothed, brown-skinned natives came out to gaze at them, but not one offered to do anything. Walt had a little Spanish at his command, and, selecting one man, who seemed slightly more intelligent than the rest, he told him they were travelers in need of food and rest. The man seemed to comprehend, and nodded with a grin. Beckoning to the party, he led them forward to a large adobe building at the other end of the one street, which practically comprised the village.

He ushered them in with a bow, after they had dismounted and tied their horses outside. The boys found themselves facing a little, paunchy man, with an air of vast importance investing him. He asked a few rapid questions of their guide in Spanish, and then issued an order to a ragged-looking fellow standing by his side.

"I guess he's gone for breakfast," mused Ralph; "queer way of doing things, but anything for something to eat."

But in a moment the ragged man reappeared without food, but with several others as ragged as himself. The boys noticed they all carried rifles.

The first ragged man beckoned to them, and the fat, paunchy official waved his hand in token of dismissal. He also bowed low. The boys and the professor, not to be outdone in politeness, also bowed low. Then they followed their guide. He led them round behind the adobe which they had just left, and approached a small building.

"The dining-room, I guess," said Walt cheerfully, as the three stepped through a narrow door-way into a dark interior.

"I don't see any table or---- Great Scott, what's that?" broke off Ralph suddenly.

The door had closed with a clang, and they heard the big bar on the outside being placed in position.

"Hey, there, let us out!"

"What are you doing?"

"Where's our breakfast?"

These exclamations came in chorus from the travelers. For an instant there was silence without, and then came a snarling sort of cry, which sounded very much like a contemptuous:

"Yah-h-h-h-h!"

Furiously the two boys fell on the stout door and shook it. It remained as firmly rooted in position as rock.

"We're prisoners once more," gasped Ralph.