Uncle Sam's Boys as Lieutenants: or, Serving Old Glory as Line Officers

Captain Foster did not trouble himself to approach the house, around which there were no signs of life. Instead he walked hurriedly through the yard. Just as the two officers neared the barn the door was seen to slide on its roller.

"Keep them from closing that door, Overton!" cried Captain Foster. Hal bounded forward, thrusting his right foot in the crack just in time to prevent the door closing.

"I'll help you push that door open again," cried the captain. Between them they succeeded, driving the door back, wide open, revealing two scowling young Mexican hostlers.

"You g'way!" snarled one of them in a surly tone.

"Where's your master, Pedro Guarez?" demanded Captain Foster.

"Dunno. He far away. G'way. I wanta close this door."

"Don't you attempt to do it," warned Captain Foster stiffly. "Mr. Overton, stand here and see that these fellows don't close the door. I'm going to, look around inside."

Just as Captain Foster stepped into the barn a rear door of the house opened quickly. A Mexican, rather better dressed than the average, ran hastily across the yard.

"Here," he cried, in good English, though he panted as he reached the barn, "you must leave. You have no right here!"

"Only Pedro Guarez can tell me that," retorted the captain.

"But I am Pedro Guarez."

"Then you're the man I want to see," returned Captain Foster, fixing Guarez with his keen eyes. "I am going to look through your barn and I may ask you a lot of questions."

"I shall not answer, if you do. Get out! You have no right here!"

"Then get a policeman, and get him here to arrest me," smiled the captain.

A murmuring of excited voices was heard out in the road, after which, half a dozen Mexicans came hurriedly into the yard. They quickly crowded around the door.

"You have a good many friends interested in your affairs, Mr. Guarez," insinuated the captain. "But come on; I am going through the barn."

"I cannot say that it will be safe," retorted Guarez, with an expressive shrug of his shoulders.

"Safe?" echoed Captain Foster sternly. "That's a question that an American soldier never asks."

"Just as you will, then, Señor Capitain," returned Guarez. "I protest, but I cannot fight you – alone."

"And you'd better stop all that talk of fighting, too," warned the captain. "Come, if you want to go through with me."

Just then about a score more of excited Mexicans poured into the yard.

"You see," cautioned Guarez. "You will stir up a lot of trouble, Señor Capitain."

"Mr. Overton, don't let any of the rabble come into this barn for the present," directed Hal's company commander. "Come, Guarez, if you wish."

The Mexican hesitated, for an instant. But he saw Captain Foster walk toward the haymow.

"Come on, my friends!" cried Guarez. "You, too, shall see what this too-officious soldier dares to do here!"

He spoke in Spanish, but Captain Foster understood, and so did Hal Overton. Instantly there was an excited rush on the part of the Mexican loungers outside, who tried to crowd past Hal.

"Back, all of you!" ordered the young lieutenant. He spoke in English, accompanying his order with a gesture that any man might understand.

But the Mexicans pressed against him, scowling and shaking their heads as though to imply that they did not understand.

"Get back, every one of you," insisted Lieutenant Hal. "You know well enough what I am telling you."

However, the Mexicans at the rear of the compact little crowd pushed against those in front. The Army boy was in danger of being pushed off his feet.

In an instant Hal's right hand flew to the hilt of his sword. He spoke no word, now, but his face was white, his lips set and stern. The gleam in his eyes boded no good to the men in front of him.

Swish! The sword leaped from its scabbard, its keen blade gleaming in the air as Lieutenant Hal made a swift cut about him. The steel struck no one, for the rabble drew back swiftly. Some thirty pairs of eyes flashed hatred at the Army boy.

"Now, keep your distance," warned the Army boy, coolly returning his sword to its scabbard.

"Surely we can draw some steel of our own, friends," muttered one of the Mexicans. "If this soldier boy resists us again, or places his hand to his sword, let every man among us draw his own steel and rush in over his body!"

Hal heard and comprehended, perfectly, but his orders had been not to let the Mexicans see that he understood their talk. So he stood there, smiling coolly.

"Peace, friends, for a moment," broke in another Mexican, speaking in Spanish. "Then, if this young soldado does not yield, it will be time to rush over him. If we finish him, no one can afterwards swear whose knife did the deed. After that the same thrust for his captain."

Again Hal Overton comprehended, but he glanced, in cool inquiry, at the speaker as that fellow stepped forward.

"See here, soldier," began the Mexican, speaking fluently in English, "Don Pedro has invited us into this barn. You have no lawful right to stop us."

"I won't argue that with you," the young lieutenant answered steadily.

"But you will have to let us pass. We are going inside. So why should you take a lot of blows that you need not receive? And my countrymen are excitable, some of them. I do not know that one or two of them could be restrained from using a knife on you."

"They'll know more afterward, if they try it," laughed Hal, as though the situation amused him. "But I would advise your friends not to try it. You and they are going to move back, now, and thereafter any man who gets within ten feet of me I am going to run through with my sword."

Hal tapped the hilt of his weapon lightly, then started to push the rabble back. There were many mutterings. Lieutenant Overton did not know at what instant he might feel the sharp prick of steel. If he felt any fear of such a fate nothing in his cool smile betrayed him. The crowd fell back, though there was no assurance that their smouldering wrath might not flame up at any moment. Hal's life still hung on a thread. A breath, and these sullen, excitable men would hurl themselves upon him.

In the meantime, Guarez, realizing that his friends might not come immediately to his assistance, had scowlingly followed Captain Foster to the haymow. That officer picked up a pitchfork and began to prod the hay.

"I forbid this!" cried Guarez, in a deep, dramatic voice. Captain Foster paid no heed. Soon the captain drove his implement through the hay, and against something that gave back a resistance like that of soft pine. With a skill that he had acquired as a boy on a farm the captain began to pitch the hay.

"Stop! You have no right!" thundered the Mexican. But Captain Foster had uncovered two packing cases and continued energetically with his work.

"Will you stop?" howled the Mexican, advancing upon the man in uniform.

"No," returned Foster briefly. "I'm here on business."

"Come in, my friends!" howled Pedro Guarez. "Never mind the young tailor's model at the door."

The Mexicans outside heard, and the appeal frenzied them. Four or five started toward the barn-door, the rest closing in behind them.

Swish! Lieutenant Hal's sword was again in the air.

"Who wants to come first?" demanded the Army boy dryly.

The rabble paused, then crowded back slowly. There was something in Hal Overton's cold, steady, masterful eyes that awed them more than any fears of their own.

Captain Foster tossed and threw hay with a will until he had uncovered a compact pile of small packing cases.

"Sixty," he announced, after a quick estimation. "And each case, Guarez, contains ten rifles. Six hundred in all – enough with which to equip quite a respectable insurrecto regiment on the other side of the Rio Grande."

"There are no rifles there, nothing with which to make war," snarled the fellow.

"I accept your statement, with reservations," replied Foster dryly.

"Even though they were rifles, the United States law does not forbid one to buy or sell guns," insisted the Mexican.

"No; but it does forbid your shipping them over the border," rejoined the captain.

"But I have not attempted to ship anything over the border."

"Nor will you, Guarez. I might continue my search, and unearth other rifles, or perhaps cartridges. But I know enough for my purpose, and I am through here."

Captain Foster turned and left the mow, followed by the owner of the place.

"Come, Mr. Overton," ordered the company commander, stepping to the side of his junior officer. The assembled Mexicans followed them with flashing eyes.

Out in the street Captain Foster espied an American cowboy in the near distance. Shouting, the captain attracted the attention of the man, who galloped up.

"Do you know where my men are encamped?" inquired Foster.

"Sure," nodded the cowboy.

"Will you do me the very great favor of taking a note to the officer in command at the camp?"

"Sure," nodded the cowboy, with the same brevity.

Captain Foster hastily wrote the note, handing it to the man in saddle.

"This talk-talk paper will be at your camp in less'n five minutes," volunteered the horseman. "You going to remain here. Captain, for a little while?"

"Yes."

"Then look out, or some of the Greasers will play jack-knife with you. They're just aching for trouble, Cap."

The cowboy was gone in a cloud of dust. Captain Foster and his lieutenant did not again attempt to enter Guarez's yard, but the older officer whispered something that made the younger officer smile.

Some twenty minutes later Sergeant Raney, of Hal's platoon, turned the nearest corner and marched down the street at the head of a file of twelve soldiers.

"Sergeant," announced Captain Foster, "there are at least six hundred rifles in that barn. I have no legal right to seize the guns while they lie there. You will camp here and mount guard."

"If any attempt is made to move the cases you will send men with them to make sure that they do not go to the river. If any attempt be made to send the cases away in small lots, so as to split your detachment, you will then signal the camp with the rockets that you have brought with you."

"Very good, sir."

"Pitch camp at once, and maintain watch over that barn day and night."

"Very good, sir."

An ominous growl ascended from the Mexicans, who had overheard. But, with a quiet smile at his lieutenant, Captain Foster walked away, remarking:

"They have guns enough there, Mr. Overton, but we've spiked 'em."

"But I suppose, sir, that the Mexicans may have other rifles at other points not so far from here."

"That we shall learn, Mr. Overton, as soon as we can. We shall also watch the river."

Captain Foster and his lieutenant then returned to camp for a brief period of rest. Both were well satisfied with the early forenoon's work.

There was, however, as Foster guessed, other and grimmer work yet ahead of the military.

CHAPTER XII

THE STEP OF THE STEALTHY ONE

BY noon the soldiers at camp found themselves well rested. Nearly all of them had had some hours of sleep.

The midday dinner was served, the officers eating at the same time, though sitting apart from their men. As they finished, Captain Foster said:

"Overton, I shall leave you in command of the camp this afternoon. I shall take Terry with me on a tramp through some of this surrounding country. I want to locate other contraband guns or cartridges, if I can. Except for necessary duties let the men rest. While we are on this duty most of the work will be done at night. Sleep a part of the afternoon yourself; one of the non-commissioned officers can look after the camp, and call you at need."

His sole sleep lately having been for an hour the night before, Lieutenant Hal needed no urging to seek a cot in the wall-tent set apart for the use of the officers.

"When will you sleep, sir?" Noll ventured to ask.

"When I have time," replied Captain Foster, stifling a yawn and smiling. "This will not be the first time that I have worked for forty hours without sleep."

But the afternoon prowl revealed no more rifles. There was another surprise. At Agua Dulce were fourteen boats belonging to private owners – all the craft at the village water front. Five of the boats were owned by Mexicans. Somewhat disappointed, Captain Foster and Lieutenant Noll returned to camp.

At the evening meal, just before dark, Captain Foster remarked:

"I've posted a corporal and a guard to see that none of the boats leave shore until they've been found to contain no freight that looks like munitions of war. To my surprise none of the Mexicans showed the slightest interest in my doings. It begins to look as though they have no intention of trying to ferry arms over the frontier at present."

"Are there any steam craft at this point, sir?" inquired Lieutenant Hal.

"Nothing of the sort, Mr. Overton."

"Then, if the Mexicans do plan to get any war supplies over the frontier, don't you imagine that they have arranged for a launch or a tug to drop down the river, or come up the stream, from some other point?"

"That's worth thinking of," muttered the captain, looking thoughtful.

"A boat engaged in such secret work would probably also take the risk of running without lights."

"But a steamer would be bound to make noise enough to give us warning when she attempted to come in toward the shore," pursued Captain Foster.

"That, sir, will depend on how far apart our guards are to-night, or on such other night as the Mexicans may make the attempt."

"Now that our troops are here they may make no attempt," hinted Noll.

"They will if they dare," replied Captain Foster. "If there are six hundred rifles in Guarez's barn, and more elsewhere, then there must be a lot of Mexicans on the other side waiting impatiently for the supplies to reach them. Your suggestion, Mr. Overton, about a steamer, is one that must be kept in mind."

After some thought Captain Foster wrote a telegram, entrusting it to a corporal to take over to the village.

Hal was then directed to take sixty men and to dispose of them in suitable spots along the water-front. Fifty men were to be used for this purpose. A corporal and three men would then patrol along the easterly end of the line, Hal and the few remaining men of his command patroling the western end of the line. Either patrol would be quick to respond to any shot from a sentry.

"This is an exceedingly responsible task, Mr. Overton," Captain Foster informed the young officer. "If you fail at some point, then arms enough to equip a brigade of Mexican rebels may cross the river to-night."

"I shall keep every sense on the alert, sir."

Noll was given command of the camp. Captain Foster, now thoroughly fagged, turned in for a few hours' sleep, after leaving orders to be called at eleven o'clock.

"You will find me prowling about your lines from midnight on, Mr. Overton," was the captain's last word before turning in. "It is now nearly dark, so I suggest that you march your men without any unnecessary delay."

Two minutes later Lieutenant Hal was marching his command from camp. He did not take his column through the village. Instead, he marched it to the eastward, then over to the river bank.

Posting his fifty sentries about three hundred feet apart the Army boy thus covered a stretch of water-front some three miles in length, the village's strip of river front being nearly at the middle of this line. Corporal Smith's patrol was at the westerly end of the line. Hal himself headed the patrol at that end. The sentries were instructed to conceal themselves, in order to catch, if possible, any band of rebel smugglers in the act of loading war munitions on a craft.

"Nothing will come of it to-night," muttered Hal to himself, after he had placed his men. "The Mexicans here know that there are troops on the spot. If they were going to ship guns to-night they'd be sure to do it at some point ten or twenty miles from here. This is a job for a whole brigade of infantry. A regiment of cavalry could do more than three regiments of infantry on this work."

But Hal knew that the only two troops of cavalry so far ordered to frontier patrol were two troops at least a hundred miles to the westward. As yet Uncle Sam's soldiers were posted only at particular points known to harbor resolute Mexican rebels.

"The fish can get through the net without the least trouble," thought the young officer.

It was still, dark and quiet out here on the river front. There were no lights, and seemingly none astir except the soldiers.

"Corporal, you stay with the patrol. I'm going to do a little exploring on my own account," said Lieutenant Hal, after another hour had passed.

"Very good, sir," replied Corporal Dent.

Hal had no very definite objective when he started off eastward by himself. He had left his sword behind in camp, but his revolver rested in its holster on his right hip.

The more Lieutenant Hal thought about it the less he was inclined to feel that there was any likelihood that Mexicans would attempt to-night to cross the river anywhere in the neighborhood of United States troops.

"The leaders among these fellows all know that they're being watched," thought Hal, "and they won't take chances when success means so much to them. Now that the troops have come Guarez and his associates will take time to think this matter over. None the less I shall have to be as vigilant as though I knew that they meant business to-night. It would be a fearful black eye on my record as an officer, right at the start, if I allowed the Guarez crowd to get anything real over the river to-night."

As he strolled along the water front the young lieutenant passed one of his sentries every few hundred feet. Part of the Army boy's purpose in going along by himself was to make sure that each and all of his men were alert. Their vigil would last until daylight.

In course of time the young officer passed the public pier, standing empty and deserted at the foot of the street leading from the village down to the water front. There were several row-boats tied up here at one side. During the day-time they had been under other guard, but now they lay unwatched – to the casual eye. However, within short distances of the pier on either side the young lieutenant knew that he had sentries hidden.

Neither sentry communicated with Lieutenant Overton as he passed.

"They're wise men not to hail me here," thought the young lieutenant. "They can see who I am, and, if there are any Mexicans prowling about here in the shadows, the sentries will not betray themselves."

Hal went on past the pier a little distance.

"The whole village seems asleep," he muttered, looking toward the town. "Yet, if we have blocked Guarez's little game I'll wager it will be late before he retires to-night. He'll be too mad to sleep."

Hal had halted in the shadow of two trees, growing close together. As he stood there, glancing about him, he was certain that he saw some one moving behind a growth of bushes a little way up the road.

"Halt! Who's there?" called the young Army officer, in a low voice, yet one that would carry.

There came no answer, but Hal was positive that he had seen some one moving.

"Answer, there!" he called sharply, running forward, "or stand where you are. I'm going to look you over."

Being a good sprinter young Overton was soon on the spot where he was sure that he had seen some one. But now there was no one in sight. There were other clumps of bushes near, and the prowler might easily have hidden.

"If you won't come out," called Lieutenant Hal, as he began to move quickly from clump to clump, "I'll rout you out!"

Then, of a sudden, just as Lieutenant Hal turned away from a growth of bushes, he heard a stealthy step at his rear. Like a flash he turned. As he did so, a rope was cast over his head, pinioning his arms to his sides. Before he could move or resist he felt himself jerked to the ground with considerable violence.

In another instant Hal would have been on his feet, contriving to get the noose loose or shifted in some way, and he would have been full of fight.

But the stealthy one, a man of good size and swarthy of feature, hurled himself upon the body of the trapped young Army officer. A low whistle followed, and Hal heard others moving.

Then he felt the prick of steel at his throat as the Mexican whispered:

"Quiet! Our cause is worth more than your life!"

CHAPTER XIII

ENOUGH TO MAKE A MEXICAN LAUGH

THOUGH Hal's captor spoke English, he was unquestionably Mexican. His eyes gleamed with an unholy fire. Young Overton had no doubt that he recognized the type – a man who believed that he was serving the holy cause of liberty in his own country, and who would think a Gringo life of little value if it interfered with the cause of the rebels across the river.

The sharp point of that knife pressed so insistently against Hal's neck that the Army boy realized he could not move before the weapon would be driven into his throat.

"This is where it's wiser to keep still," muttered the young lieutenant to himself. "My sentries will hear, anyway. They'll soon have this maniac subdued."

Instead of the sentries four other Mexicans came hurrying up. Nor did they seem afraid to come running down the open road. And one of these brown-skinned men was Pedro Guarez himself.

"Aha! You have the dashing young Gringo!" laughed Pedro harshly. "Bueno!" (Good.)

"Take him from me," begged the one who held the knife. "Bind him. We want no more trouble to-night."

Pedro and the three other new-comers threw themselves upon the young Army officer, rolling him over on his face and wrenching his arms behind him for tying.

Yet as he was flopped over Hal had the use of his mouth for an instant. Regardless of what the consequences might be to him he yelled lustily:

"Sentry! Lieutenant Overton —trouble!"

Instead of being angry Pedro Guarez laughed harshly.

"Gringo, if you are not more careful we shall have to gag you!"

In record time the young lieutenant's arms were bound at elbow and wrist. Hal put up a sturdy fight. Had he been on his feet, and confronting only the fists of his assailants, he might have won. But on the ground, face downward, with his assailants piling over him, he had little chance to make trouble.

"He's all right, now," chuckled Guarez. "If he tries to make any more noise throw him to the ground and gag him. If he shows fight give him the steel."

Two of the Mexicans seized Lieutenant Hal by the arm on either side, while Guarez led the way into a stretch of forest.

They were soon at the end of their walk. Lieutenant Overton gave a gasp of dismay as his gaze fell upon the recumbent forms of six of his men, every one of them bound. Twenty feet beyond them lay a heap of six rifles and as many ammunition belts. Hal's eyes roved from face to face, his men grinning back sheepishly at him.

"All of our sentries for a thousand feet on either side of the pier!" gasped the young lieutenant, in deep humiliation.

Pedro Guarez, laughing harshly, said to Hal:

"Bah! You Gringos are no men to compete with the sons of Mexico! You are like children to us, who roam always by night, in preference to the light of day. And there is much Indian blood in Mexican veins. Now, if you are wise, no harm will come to you. But if you make a noise or show fight —so!"

Guarez made a significant gesture across his throat.

"How did you men come to be taken, Simms?" asked Hal, of the nearest soldier, after his captors had forced him to lie on the ground with his men.

"A Greaser crept up behind me, sir, and threw a noose that got tangled around my windpipe," replied Private Simms. "He did it so swiftly and quietly, too, that not even Bolton on the next post heard him."

"I heard nothing, sir," confirmed Private Bolton, "until I heard a roaring in my own ears just after I got the noose trick, and then a lot of other Greasers piled on me."

Again Guarez laughed, though he added with a snarl:

"You will do well to stop the use of that word, Greaser, fellow. Otherwise you will feel the weight of a boot in your face. So!"