tag="{http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml}a">CHAPTER XXXI.

THE BRONCHO RIDER BOYS WITH
FUNSTON AT VERA CRUZ.

CHAPTER I.

A DARING ADVENTURE.

"Let me look, Billie," and Donald reached out his hand for the field glass through which Broncho Billie was gazing down from the summit of Real del Monte upon the plain of Quesco, through which the Pachuca river winds its way. "Maybe I can make out who they are."

Billie handed over the glass without a word and stood expectant, while Donald scrutinized closely a body of horsemen—twenty or more in number—which had halted beside the railroad that connects the little city of Pachuca with the City of Mexico.

"They are not soldiers, that's certain," was Donald's comment after he had inspected the riders carefully for a couple of minutes.

"That's what I thought," from Billie. "They look like a bunch of vaqueros to me; but what would a crowd of fifty cowpunchers be doing in a country where the only cattle are goats?"

"That's right!" laughed Donald, greatly amused at Billie's odd expression, "but still that is what they appear to be. Perhaps they are expecting a drove of cattle up on the train."

"More likely they are expecting a load of bullion going down to the City of Mexico," remarked the third of the party. "What do you think, Pedro?" turning to the fourth of the boys who composed the quartette.

"I am afraid you are right, Adrian," replied Pedro, with an accent which denoted that of the four he was the only one who was not of an English-speaking race.

"You don't think they would hold up a train in broad daylight, and that not more than five miles from town, do you?" queried Billie.

"If they are what I suspect," declared Pedro, "I think they would hold it up at the station, if there were only a few more of them."

"And what do you think they are?"

"I think they are Zapatistas."

"What are they?" asked Donald.

"Followers of the bandit leader, Emilio Zapata."

"Which side does he belong to?" asked Adrian. "Huerta or Carranza?"

"Neither. He is simply a bandit, and his followers prey upon any whom they find unprotected."

"And do you really think they are going to hold up and rob the train from Pachuca?"

"Sin duda!" meaning without doubt.

"Then we must prevent them," declared Donald emphatically.

"What business is it of ours?" asked Billie. "If one bunch of Mexicans wants to rob another bunch, especially if the second bunch are Huertistas, I don't know that it is for us to interfere. I'm not looking for trouble."

"You're not afraid, are you? If——"

"Say, Don," interrupted Billie, "what's the use of always asking such foolish questions? If I remember rightly, the last time you asked me that question was up on the Rio Grande a year ago, about the time that I was swimming rivers and breaking into prisons with the Texas Rangers to get you and Ad out of trouble. Now why——"

Donald held up both hands.

"That's enough, Billie," he laughed. "I'll take it all back. Of course you're not afraid. But I insist we must prevent this hold-up."

"And again I ask, why?"

"Because there may be women and children on the train and——"

"That's enough," exclaimed Billie. "You needn't go on with the rest. But what's the plan? We're a good ten miles from those chaps—unless we had an airship."

"And then how far do you think it is?" queried Adrian.

"Well," replied Billie slowly, as he squinted up one eye, "I should say they are about four miles away as the crow flies. But we are not crows. By the Real road, it is at least ten miles."

"There must be a short cut somewhere," insisted Donald.

"There is," explained Pedro. "Just around the next turn in the road there is a goat path that leads down to the river. If you are not afraid of getting wet——"

"There you go," laughed Billie. "Afraid of getting wet! Just let's settle it once for all that we are not afraid of anything that it is right for us to do."

Pedro laughed good-naturedly.

"Well, then, since we are not afraid of getting wet, we can follow the river for about two miles by fording it several times, and emerge on the plain a mile this side of the clump of trees which hides those fellows from the highway."

"And then what?" from Billie.

"That is as far as I've gone."

"Then you'll have to do better. Just as soon as we emerge from behind those trees, we'll be a fair target. Four against twenty is 'most too much on an open plain."

For several minutes no one spoke. It was Adrian who broke the silence.

"I think I see a way, not only to save the train, but possibly to capture the bandits."

The boys looked up in surprise.

"Do you notice how the railroad curves in toward the hills just after it crosses the river bridge?" he continued, pointing out the place he meant.

"Sure, we see it," from Billie.

"Well, when we leave the river, instead of riding toward that bunch of trees, we'll ride the other way. That will bring us to the railroad track near the curve. Then we'll ride up the track. If we do not reach the station before the train leaves, we can flag it. There is sure to be at least half a dozen guards aboard. We will make ten. Most of the men aboard will have revolvers. The result will be that instead of the bandits taking the train by surprise, we will take them by surprise, and——"

"And the army that takes the other by surprise wins," finished Billie, taking off his sombrero and bowing to Adrian in mock gravity. Then to Pedro, "Let the scout lead the way and the army will fall in behind, with the general at the head."

A laugh followed Billie's words, and putting spurs to their horses, the four lads dashed down the mountain road upon their self-appointed mission, which was by no means the first daring adventure in which they had engaged; for the stories of the doings of the three American lads in the quartette have furnished interesting reading for thousands of American boys.

It is because of their numerous adventures and their skill as horsemen that the trio has become known as the Broncho Rider Boys. Their names are Donald Mackay, Adrian Sherwood and William Stonewall Jackson Winkle, better known as "Broncho Billie." This latter name was given him some two years before when he went to visit his cousin Donald at the latter's home on the Keystone Ranch in Wyoming. It was not given him because he was such an expert rider, but because he could fall from his broncho pony easier than any boy in that section. Rotund in appearance, he was as jolly as he was fat, and his chief failing was his appetite. No matter what the hour, no one ever mentioned eats that Billie was not hungry.

When he first came West he was supposed to be in poor health. It speedily developed that such was not the case. He was simply hungry. Months in the open air had enabled him to eat without fear and he was now about the most robust specimen of boy that any one ever saw.

Donald, the oldest of the trio, was one of those level-headed chaps who had a knack of doing the right thing at the right time. His judgment had been proven good in many a tight place