CHAPTER XX.

DON FERDINAND EXPLAINS.

The trap door was on a slide, not hinged. This permitted of its being pushed back in grooves that proved to be well-oiled and noiseless. Frank who stood on a stool so high that he was forced to bow his head in order not to strike it against the low roof was about to straighten up and look out, when Captain Cornell thrust him aside. The next moment the doughty flyer, placing his hands on the edge of the opening, pulled himself up to the room. Frank was quick to follow.

“Hey, Captain, that was mean,” he declared.

“Didn’t want you poking into trouble,” explained the other. “Feel that I owe it to Mr. Hampton. But our trouble’s for nothing,” he added, looking about, “unless—”

He ceased abruptly and leaped forward, Frank at his heels. Both had seen that shapeless bundle, looking like an old roll of carpet, begin to quiver. The roof was flat, a low parapet rimming it. In one corner lay the bundle, and the westering sun in their eyes had so dazzled them at first that they had not seen it. But now—

They pulled up together beside the strange object, and Captain Cornell stirred it with a foot. “Come out,” he commanded in Spanish, “and have a care. I am armed.”

The faded carpet covering what they now could see was a man out-stretched his full length, quivered. But no man emerged.

“I’ll cover him, Frank,” said Captain Cornell. “Do you take off the carpet.”

Frank seized an end of the carpet and tugged. But the carpet did not come away. Instead, the object beneath began to roll toward him. A man was rolled up inside. Once, twice, he turned over. Then the end of the carpet was reached, and the man lay exposed.

“By the ring-tailed caterpillar,” cried Frank, using his wildest expletive. “It’s Don Ferdinand.” And he flung himself on his knees, and began fumbling at the knotted rope wound ’round and ’round the form of his old acquaintance, who was trussed from head to heel. “Lend a hand, Captain. Or, wait, I’ll cut those ropes.” And he fished for his pocket knife, and getting it out, opened and began to slash the bonds. A moment later he desisted in order to pull away the huge bandanna knotted about the aristocratic Don Ferdinand’s jaw and efficiently stopping speech. The moment the gag was withdrawn, the old Don began to sputter.

“Hey, Captain,” Frank cried excitedly, “run to the edge of the roof and call out to the fellows.”

And as Captain Cornell hastened away to comply, Frank finished the task of releasing the Don and then assisted him to his feet. Don Ferdinand was so stiff from his bonds as to be unable to stand without assistance. But his tongue wasn’t stiff. It rattled on at a great rate. Frank, whose Spanish was somewhat rusty from disuse, had difficulty in understanding, so voluble was the Don’s speech. He knew, however, that his old friend was pouring vials of wrath on the head of the missing Ramirez; and he was tempted to smile, but by an effort managed to refrain.

In the mean time, he assisted Don Ferdinand to the open trap door, impressing on him that Ramirez had fled and that friends waited below. They were joined by Captain Cornell, who helped Frank lower the older man to the stool below. Thereupon the two followed, pulling the trap shut behind them. Captain Cornell urged haste.

“Let’s get out of this and get back to our own land,” he said. “We’ve rescued Don Ferdinand, thanks to you Frank. It would be a shame to get into trouble with the authorities now.”

Frank agreed, and with a hand under Don Ferdinand’s elbow hurried the frothing old aristocrat down the stairs. Not once did the latter cease his wrathy outpourings until they emerged on the street, where Mr. Hampton was first to greet them. But Captain Cornell interrupted the conversation between these two old friends before it could get well launched. He was impatient to be gone.

“We’ve had a lot of luck,” he said, “but it may not last. I don’t know what is the standing of this fellow Ramirez with the Mexican authorities. He may own the town, for all I know. Anyway, it would be a shame for us American officers to get into trouble over here now. Let’s go.”

They went. Somehow or other, the party which had come in the big car of the flyers and the Laredo taxicab, augmented now by the addition of Bob and Captain Cornell and Don Ferdinand, managed to swarm into the constricted space. It was a wild race for the Bridge, and so jounced about was everybody that ordered conversation was impossible.

“Pull up at the Hamilton, everybody,” Mr. Hampton had said, on starting. “Then we can have a council of war and hear Don Ferdinand’s story.”

So, although the car containing the flyers, drew rapidly ahead, those in the taxi felt assured that they would all be reunited, provided they managed to cross the International Bridge without running foul of the Mexican authorities. This they did, just ahead of the procession of cars coming from the bull fight. And in the lobby of the Hamilton, Don Ferdinand and his escorts found the men of the Border Patrol awaiting them.

“Whew,” said Captain Murray, as they trooped into Mr. Hampton’s sitting room, to the amazement of Mr. Temple who had spent the afternoon in a quiet siesta which their coming rudely routed; “that was a risky piece of business. We had no business invading Mexico, and if we had been caught at it by the authorities of Nueva Laredo we would have had to do some tall explaining. Glad it’s over—and without exposure.”

“I’ll not forget, old man,” said Captain Cornell.

“Rot.” Murray playfully pulled the other’s hat down over his eyes. “You’d do as much for any of us.”

Around the big room they all found seats, the seven young aviators of the Border Patrol, the Hamptons, the Temples and Frank, many sitting on the floor. Don Ferdinand was given the seat of honor, a huge winged arm chair. Perhaps, he would prefer to rest after his trying experiences rather than to talk, suggested Mr. Hampton; in which case they would permit him to retire, and he could relate his story later. But the old aristocrat waved that suggestion aside impatiently. He was filled with anger and eager to talk. Perhaps, too, added Mr. Hampton, he was hungry and would like to eat. But to that, too, the old Don said, no. Mr. Hampton did, however, ring for bottled ginger ale which when it arrived everybody eagerly seized.

Then with bottles in hand, they listened while Don Ferdinand explained how he had come to be in the predicament from which Frank and Captain Cornell had rescued him.

To begin with, Ramirez, as they already knew, had lured away a score of men from Don Ferdinand’s mine in the mountains, many miles to the west. The old Don feared Ramirez was preparing to gather a rebel army and launch a new rebellion. At one time, nothing would have pleased Don Ferdinand better. But he believed now that the Obregon government was stabilizing his country, and he wanted its peace to continue undisturbed.

In that isolated district, there was only a shadow of Federal authority, in the form of a commander and a score of troops in a small town garrison at the village of San Dimas. Don Ferdinand decided that it would be useless to appeal to such help, for in the meantime Ramirez would move eastward unhampered and continually gathering more troops. Accordingly, with his own followers at his back, he set out in pursuit.

Well mounted though they were, however, Don Ferdinand’s command failed to catch up with Ramirez. Through sparsely settled country, where the only human inhabitants were a few lonely sheepherders, led the chase. Now and then Don Ferdinand obtained word of Ramirez’s passing. Once, about fifty miles west of Nueva Laredo, they came upon a camp which Ramirez had made along the Rio Grande that was only a day old. The American town of Carana, a Texan village inhabited by Mexicans, was not far distant across the river. Then they pressed on toward Nueva Laredo, hopeful of meeting Ramirez before he could gain sufficient strength to attack the town.

But almost at once Don Ferdinand discovered that Ramirez no longer had with him the main body of his followers. Trail signs up to the last camp had indicated that more than a score of men rode with Ramirez. Now the signs showed that not more than four horsemen had proceeded from the last camp. They turned back at once in order to make a closer inspection of the camping place, and soon discovered that the score left behind had crossed the river in the direction of Carana, some three miles away.

This puzzled the old Don sadly. A dozen conjectures as to the reason for such a move whirled through his brain. The one most likely to be true, he believed, was that Ramirez had sent his main body along the deserted Texan shore toward Nueva Laredo while he and a few lieutenants approached it from the Mexican side. Many Mexicans live in Texas; and, therefore, the followers of Ramirez would be able to enter Laredo without detection and stay in the American town until they received word from their commander to enter Mexico. In the mean time, Ramirez could be preparing his plans in Nueva Laredo for a surprise attack that would put the town in his power. So Don Ferdinand pressed eagerly toward Nueva Laredo. He felt that this move would make the capture of Ramirez all the easier, and that with the brains of the revolution laid by the heels, there would be no revolution.

Five miles from Nueva Laredo, Don Ferdinand left his followers at the hacienda of a friend. Only one man did he take with him, whose duty it would be to act as messenger and summon the troop in case of need. He entered Nueva Laredo the next day and spent hours in making guarded inquiries.

No information. At least, none of value. Don Ferdinand had acquaintances in Nueva Laredo. His land-owning friend had others to whom he bore references. All knew of Ramirez and his former reputation as a smuggler and bad character. None, however, had heard of any revolutionary movement with him behind it, and only one had heard of his being in Nueva Laredo. He had been seen on the street, somebody had dropped mention of it to this informant.

Don Ferdinand pressed his inquiries further. Believing Ramirez’s command had crossed the Rio Grande fifty miles west in order to march into Laredo and there await word from their commander, he went to Laredo. A very good friend, a wealthy merchant, housed him. But inquiries made amid the lower strata of Laredo society by the merchant’s employees brought forth no information regarding an influx of strangers who might be Ramirez’s men. Then, driving across the International Bridge, Saturday night, Don Ferdinand in his friend’s car caught sight of Ramirez, only to lose the chase, as already narrated, through his accidental smashing into the taxi of his young friends.

The next day was the morning of the bull fight. Remembering his promise to call at the Hamilton Hotel Don Ferdinand was preparing for the visit when word was brought him that Ramirez had been located in a house on Calle Libertad. The informant was one of his merchant-friend’s employees—a laborer from the warehouse. He undertook to guide Don Ferdinand to a dive in Nueva Laredo, where they were to meet one of Ramirez’s men who had agreed to sell his information, if Don Ferdinand would buy. The merchant was asleep. Don Ferdinand did not wake him, but took the car which had been placed at his disposal and drove with his informant to the meeting place.

“It was a trick,” he explained. “Barely had I entered the dive than I was seized from behind, gagged and then taken in my friend’s car to the house in Calle Libertad.”

“And Ramirez?” questioned Mr. Hampton.

“At the house he met me. Our conversation I shall not repeat. It would only bore you. But, Senor Hampton, my good friend, I must tell you I was mistaken. This devil Ramirez, he think he have me in his power and can tell me all. Ah, he does not realize I have good friends who will come to my rescue. What do you think, Senor? He says he does not make the revolution; there is no money in that. Instead, he organized a—what shall I call it?—system of men for smuggling Orientals out of Mexico into the Estados Unidos.”

“An underground railway?” suggested Captain Cornell.

Don Ferdinand nodded.

“I was surprise’—me. He think, this devil Ramirez, it is I, Don Ferdinand, who want a share in this traffic which is so profitable. He think it is because of that desire for money that I pursue him. So now he capture me.”

Don Ferdinand’s listeners betrayed the keenest interest. Captain Cornell was especially eager for details. His suspicions regarding Ramirez and the latter’s projects were fulfilled. He wanted to know all. Questions poured upon Don Ferdinand in a flood, completely overwhelming him. At length he waved his hands impatiently.

“Senors, have a patience. There is little more to tell. This devil, Ramirez, he reveal that he take my man from the mine because he need men for his—what you call?—oh, yes, his underground railway. When he send them across Rio Grande, it is that they go to Carana and prepare. From Carana, these Orientals shall be sent to San Antonio and then distributed through Estados Unidos.”

“But didn’t he have other men?” asked Mr. Hampton. “Why should he go west to your mine, and take your men? Why should he take my cook Ramon?”

“About thees Ramon, I do not know. But Ramirez, he take my men because he know I shall pursue. Me, he have a grudge against this long time.”