Chapter XV: Spanish Joe Drops a Clue

"Where can he be, Frank?" cried Bob, after they had been climbing for several minutes up the side of the rough mountain, almost groping their way, such was the darkness around them.

"Listen!"

"Help! Nick, this way, quick, or I'll go under!" came a shrill shout, only a little way above them.

They started for the spot; but before they had taken half a dozen steps once more the thunderous sound was heard; and under them the mountain quivered. As the boys were not more than human, it was only natural that they should halt until the convulsion had passed. Bob could not help clutching a spur of rock as though he feared that something dreadful was about to happen.

As the roaring noise began to die out the boys caught the cries of Spanish Joe once again. He seemed to be nearly frantic with fear, and was calling upon his cowboy crony not to forsake him in his extremity.

"It's going to tumble on me the next shake! Hurry, Nick, or I'm a goner!" they heard him pleading.

"Whatever can have happened to him?" asked Bob, awed by the exciting incidents by which they seemed to be surrounded.

"I reckon he's caught in some sort of trap, judging from his talk," Frank sent back over his shoulder; for both of them were climbing upward as rapidly as the conditions allowed.

It was no wonderful feat for Frank to make straight for the spot where the loud voice came from. He had located it; and even when Joe ceased calling for a minute or two, Frank was able to continue right on.

Apparently the cowman had heard some sound that told him of their coming. That accounted for his silence, since he was listening eagerly. And of course he fully expected that it must be Nick Jennings hastening to his assistance, perhaps with Peg at his heels. At least his words would indicate as much, when he cried again.

"Hurry, boys! There ain't any too much time. This way, right straight ahead! Oh! I'm in a hole, I tell ye. Ye ain't stopping, are ye? Come on! come on!"

They were now close to where the speaker must be located. Frank was already straining his eyes to make out his figure, so as to get some idea as to the nature of the new task that confronted them.

He presently could make out some object that squirmed and tugged between groans.

Then he knew that his first guess was probably correct. Spanish Joe, in making his way along over the rocks, had in some way managed to catch his foot in a crack, and was unable to get it out again. Perhaps the more he struggled the firmer it became fastened. And, considering the surroundings, his fright could hardly be wondered at.

So Frank crept up alongside the prisoner of the rock.

"It's my leg, Nick," cried the man, eagerly. "I can't get it loose and I've twisted and pulled till it's near jerked out of the socket. See if ye can't do somethin'. Every time she shakes, that rock up there just starts to drop down on me! If it comes I'll be smashed."

Frank knew Spanish Joe. The man from across the Rio Grande had worked on the Circle Ranch for many months, until he was discharged after being caught in the suspicious business of conveying information to the cattle rustlers.

"Wait 'till I strike a match, so I can see what things look like," Frank said.

And as the match suddenly flared up the dark-faced Spanish-American stared with astonishment into the countenance of the one who had come in answer to his frantic calls for assistance.

"You, Senor Frank?" he exclaimed.

"Sure," replied the rancher's son, as he bent over to examine the way in which the prisoner's foot had become caught.

Although the match only shone for a few seconds, Frank's quick eyes had sized up the situation.

"How is it, Senor Frank; can you get me out, _camerado_?" asked Joe, with a quiver in his voice.

Something of a desperado the man might be under ordinary conditions; but just then, when facing death, he proved very tame indeed.

"I reckon I can, Joe, if that tottering rock up there only holds off long enough. Let's hope it will. Now, do just what I tell you; and when I say pull, again, get busy for all you're worth!"

While Frank was talking he had been manipulating the foot of the Mexican, who had worked so long on American ranches that he had lost much of his national ways, though retaining a few of the characteristics of dress that always distinguish his kind.

Frank himself was not wasting time. He did not like the looks of that over-hanging rock any too well. It seemed to be about ready to crash down, and when it did come the result would be disastrous to anything human caught underneath; for it surely weighed many tons.

"Now, draw easily at first, and then increase gradually," Frank said. "I'll hold onto the foot, and keep it in this position. I think that's the way it first slipped into the crack!"

Spanish Joe eagerly obeyed. He groaned several times as he felt his leg hurt, but desperation lent him new determination; for if this attempt failed, as others had done, he believed that he was doomed.

Suddenly the foot came free. Joe fell over on the ground, but his last groan turned into a cry of delight. It was almost comical to see how quickly he rolled over several times, so as to get away from the danger zone.

Frank, turning, clutched his companion, and also drew him back. It was none too soon, it seemed. As if the release of Spanish Joe might have been the signal for the groaning mountain to once again take up its strange action, they felt the quiver with which all the performances. seemed to begin. Then the grumble commenced, rapidly advancing into a fearful stage, until Bob could feel himself trembling violently because the rocks under him were moving.

"There she comes!" cried Frank.

His words were drowned in a deafening crash close by. Had Peg Grant been there he must have believed that the top of the mountain had blown off, and that fire and boiling lava would immediately begin to pour down the sides. But Bob had not forgotten about that swaying rock. And he understood that it had fallen with a crash just at the spot where the three of them stood a minute before.

"What a narrow escape!" exclaimed Frank, after the clamor had in some measure died away again.

"Oh! I should say it was," echoed Bob, feeling quite weak as he realized what must have happened to them had they not gotten away in time.

"How about your leg, Joe; can you walk?" asked Frank, turning to the cowman, who was scrambling to his feet close by.

"Seems like I can, Senor Frank. But it was a close call for Spanish Joe. Only for you coming, where would I be right now? Let us get away from here!" exclaimed the man, limping around as he tried his crippled limb.

"You are free to go, if you want, Joe," remarked Frank; "but Bob and myself mean to stick it out. We came here to learn the cause of all this racket, and we'll do it, or know the reason why."

"Excuse me, _companero_, I know when I have had enough. This mountain is surely bewitched. There must be an evil spirit living inside. Do I not know it? And even the door is guarded by demons that spring at a man and tear him. My clothes, once so handsome, Senors, are torn into tatters, just because Joe, he was fool enough to step into that black opening above!"

Frank started as he heard the Mexican say this. It seemed to him that possibly here was a clue worth following up.

"Tell us what you mean, Joe," he asked, quickly. "What black opening did you try to enter; and what happened to you, _amigo_? We have done you a service, saved your life, perhaps. In return, tell us this."

"It is little enough, Senor Frank. Up above, not more than seventy feet from here, lies a hole in the ground. I was looking for shelter from the storm, because Senor Peg wished it. I entered. Hardly had I taken ten steps than something flew at me. I think it was a demon, for it had sharp claws, and I thought I could smell brimstone and sulphur. Just then the mountain yawned, and what with the terrible noise, and having to fight off that unseen enemy, I climbed out of there fast, but with all my fine clothes ruined. That was why I came down the side of the mountain in such haste that I caught my foot. I thought that fury was chasing me. Nothing in this wide world could tempt Spanish Joe to go back there. The storm, it is a joke besides that terror of the darkness!"

If he expected to alarm Frank, the Mexican cowman mistook the character of the boy. Frank believed that the fellow's fears had made him imagine more than half of what he declared had happened to him.

"Well, we leave you here, then, Joe," the boy remarked, sturdily; "because we're going to find that cave, and see what lies inside it. If you want to come along, all right; if not _adios_!"

He turned and started to climb, Bob tagging at his heels. But Spanish Joe could not bring himself to accept the invitation. He looked after the disappearing figures of the two saddle boys, and shook his head.

"No, not for Joe," he muttered. "He knows when he has had enough. Money could not drive him to enter there again, and meet that unseen thing. Out here the danger can be understood, but Joe he takes off his hat to the young Senors; for grit they surely possess. _Adios_, Senor Frank; but I doubt much whether we ever meet again."

But staunch of heart, Frank was leading the way upward, determined to accept of the challenge which the cowboy's due seemed to throw at his feet.