Frontier Boys in Frisco

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That night Jim slept with great soundness as was usual with him, unless
there was something to watch out for. As it happened there was, though
Jim did not know it. As a link in the chain of what was to occur, I must
mention the negro porter of Jim's car. He was an undersized, grumpy
person, and Jim had earned his ill will by giving him a call down for
his impudence to a lady who had the section across from him.

The darky had vowed to do him dirt, and, though he was afraid of Jim,
the opportunity soon came for him to get even. At one of the stations
the Mexican got acquainted with the porter and soon insinuated himself
into his good graces, and it did not take him long to find out that this
colored person had it in for the tall young gringo, which was sugar to
his coffee.

It was a simple matter for him to find out the number and location of
Jim's berth, and to make arrangements to get into the car about
midnight, so as to carry out his plans. It was shortly after twelve that
night, that the porter unlocked the door of the Pullman, and admitted an
undersized Mexican.

It was a sinister figure that crouched in the corner of the deserted
smoking-room, like a black spider lurking for his prey. At that moment
the porter rushed in, and collared the Mexican. The reason was not far
to seek. Looking out from the door of the car, he had chanced to see the
conductor coming with his lantern; the latter was just opening the door
to step out on the platform between the two sleepers.

It would not do for him to discover the interloper in the car, for there
would be a riot call immediately if not sooner as the Frontier Boys used
to say. The porter hustled the Mexican through the narrow aisle and shut
him into the tall thin closet where a supply of bedding was wont to be
kept, just as the conductor looked into the smoking-room.

"Somebody in here with a cigarette, Porter?"

"No sah," replied the porter. "Not a living pusson in this heah car
but's sleepin'!"

"What's the matter with you?" asked the conductor "you look pale."

"A niggah look pale?" laughed the porter but with mock mirth; "you must
be joking, sah."

"Yaller then," replied the conductor brusquely.

He was not entirely satisfied with the negro's reply, and with his round
lantern, protected by the steel wires held high on his arm he looked
through the smoking-and drawing-rooms which were unoccupied but found
nothing. Then he went along the car aisle and into the next sleeper
banging the door. Immediately the porter let out the imprisoned Mexican
who crouched back into the smoking-room, where he lingered for only a
moment.

Then he glided into the dusky aisle of the car, between the heavy
curtains with their hanging decorations of velvet bands with large steel
figures on them indicating the number of the section. There was the
constant roar of the train, and the swaying of the big brass lamps, and
from all sides came the loud snores of the sleeping citizens.

Once there came a loud cry of a person frightened by some dream, just
where the Mexican was passing and he stopped, crouching low in the
aisle. Then as nothing further came of it, he glided along until he
reached section No. 9, where James Darlington lay asleep.

CHAPTER VII

WHERE WAS HE?

Jim was breathing heavily, profoundly asleep, and the fellow's first
action was to rifle Jim's valise with the skill of an old hand, taking
every scrap of paper he could find, a few letters and a memorandum book;
these he glanced through; they were not what he wanted, at least the
paper that he had been told to bring was not there.

As he shoved the valise under the berth he heard the conductor coming
back on his return trip, and he remained as quiet as a frozen mummy,
leaning far into the berth and behind the curtain, as the conductor
brushed past him. Then he proceeded to the dangerous part of his task.
Jim's coat lay under his head, a precaution he never neglected.

With his knife in his teeth, better than a revolver for close work and
entirely noiseless, the fellow began slowly and with great cunning to
work his hand into the pockets of the coat. He found a long flat letter;
this was what he was told to get. Now his cupidity was aroused. He had
found nothing of pecuniary value, and he knew that this young fellow
carried some treasures of value in the way of jewels.

Jim was too old a campaigner to put these even in the coat on which he
was asleep. The spy knew that they must be in a belt around the boy's
body. Carefully he located it, and now the lust of theft as strong as
that of the Italian for blood gripped him. He despised all risk though
he did not lose his craft or caution; he cut the leather belt at Jim's
back, and began to draw it by minute particles towards him.

Then Jim was aroused and was wide awake in an instant. He knew that he
had been robbed and grabbed for the fellow who slipped away as though he
had been quicksilver and when Jim who became entangled in the bed
clothes got to the door of the sleeper it was locked. Perhaps he has
gone the other way, thought Jim, and he rushed to the other end of the
car; the door there was likewise locked.

Jim hated to raise a hue and cry, but he was determined to get the
thief. The loss of the belt which contained many of the jewels which he
had brought from Mexico was a severe jolt. It would cripple him cruelly
in his plans for his coming campaign when he reached San Francisco. At
all hazards he must recover that belt.

He went to his berth and slipped into his trousers and sweater and then
he found the porter apparently asleep in the smoking-room.

"Here you wake up," cried Jim, shaking him by the shoulder; "I've been
robbed not three minutes ago."

"I didn't rob you. I dunno nothing about it," declared the porter
surlily. "I've been sleeping all the time."

"You go and get the conductor," ordered Jim.

"I can't leave this hyah car," replied the negro.

Jim's face grew hard with anger, and he grabbed the porter by the back
of the neck in a grip that fairly made that worthy's bones crack, and
lifted him towards the door.

"All right, Boss, all right, I'll fatch him sure," cried the terrified
porter. "I dunno you was in such a hurry."

Jim said nothing but kept watch until the porter returned with the
conductor to whom he briefly explained the situation. He looked hard at
the porter, who began to protest his utter innocence with great
vehemence. "Why, Boss, I wouldn't steal a chicken if he crowed right in
my face," he concluded.

"I smelled a rat when I came through this car a time back. You say you
caught sight of this fellow when he escaped from your section?"

"Yes," replied Jim. "It was dark of course. But when he slipped through
the curtains I got a glimpse of him. He was very short, with a hat
pulled down, hiding most of his face, but I think that he had a beard. I
reckon he must be in here somewhere for I found both doors locked and I
was out in a hurry."

"Here you get in there, Porter," cried the conductor, his face red with
wrath, and he gave the negro a shove into the smoking-room, and slammed
and locked the door. "That will hold him for a while. I saw that fellow
all right enough. He was a Mexican and he got on at Reno."

"A Mexican!" cried Jim, starting back. "No, it can't be, this fellow had
a beard."

"Sure! he had a beard!" agreed the conductor. "Well if he is on this
train we will get him."

"He couldn't be anywhere else," declared Jim.

"Not at the rate we are going," agreed the conductor. "This is no
country to jump off in, especially this time of the year."

A thorough search was made of the sleeper which aroused all the
passengers, but the Mexican was not found. However, a trace was
discovered when the conductor unlocked the tall, narrow door, to the
linen closet.

"Somebody has been here all right," declared the conductor. "I bet he
hid here when I came through the train. Something is liable to happen to
that Coon when we get to Oakland."

Meanwhile the search was going on through the other cars of the train.
Nearly everyone had been asleep at the time and the fellow might have
passed through a number of the coaches and not been seen. One woman in
the chair car declared that she had seen someone just like the Mexican
going through the car, about one o'clock.

Everyone joined in the search, looking under the seats in every nook and
corner of the cars. If he was inside the train, it seemed that he must
have the trick of invisibility to escape. At that moment, an idea came
into Jim's mind suggested by a former experience.

"Maybe the beggar has crawled up on top of the cars," he said.

"He must be an acrobat," remarked the conductor, "to do that."

"I'm going to have a look, anyway," Jim declared. The trainmen regarded
him with amazement.

"No, you don't," said the conductor; "that's foolhardy."

"It's slippery as the deuce on top of the cars," put in the brakeman. "I
wouldn't risk it myself."

Then Jim's face broke into a grin, as a sudden thought struck him, in
regard to the subject.

"It won't take long to find out whether the Mexican gent is enjoying the
fresh air on top of the cars," announced Jim; "there's plenty of snow on
top and none has fallen for the past six hours."

The conductor hit Jim a clip on the shoulder.

"Long head, boy!" he exclaimed, "I never thought of that."

They went outside and Jim, the tallest of the crowd, was boosted up by a
couple of trainmen, between the swaying cars (this was long before the
days of vestibules), but they found no trace of the bandit.

"He's certainly not roosting up there," declared Jim.

"Well, if he jumped off, he's a dead greaser," asserted the conductor.

"We will watch and see that he don't slide off at the next station,"
remarked one of the brakemen.

"He couldn't have slipped under one of the cars, could he?" questioned
Jim.

The conductor shook his head with emphasis.

"There's no telling what that fellow mightn't do," said one of the
trainmen.

"With the devil to help him," put in Jim.

"To make sure we will search under the train," decided the conductor,
"at the next stop."

In a few minutes the train rolled into a small station, near the top of
the range. There was a flare of yellow torches under the cars as the
trainmen searched every possible foothold, while Jim stood a short
distance back so that he could see on either side of the train if a
short, dark figure should dart forth to seek escape in the wilds of the
mountains; but their quarry was not flushed into the open, even by the
flare and glare of the torches.

"Well, boy, we will have to give it up," said the conductor to Jim, when
the train started once more.

"It seems so," admitted Jim quietly.

It was hard for him to accept defeat, in this very first skirmish with
his old enemy, Bill Broome, and harder still to lose his treasure that
was to be the sinews of war in the campaign that had already opened. But
Jim soon pulled himself together with rugged determination.

"If I remember right, old Broome gave us a jolly good licking to start
with, when he captured us in the canyon in the coast range," mused Jim
to himself, "and we beat him in the end."

But the reader is probably asking about the "Mysterious Mexican or Where
Did He Go To." Well, friend, I will tell you in confidence that Mr.
Mexican was in the train all the time. Perhaps the ingenious reader has
already solved the problem of the Mexican's escape, but for those who do
not care to be bothered, I will relate what happened, and where he was
located.

When he slipped through the door of the sleeping car, which his
confederate, the negro, locked after him, he glided through several
coaches, where the occupants were all soundly and some loudly asleep,
until he came to the forward car which carried a number of emigrants, on
their way to the coast.

It must be remembered that the Mexican was a dwarf, no larger than a
child. It was easy for him to reach one of the long brass brackets above
one of the rear seats, intended for bundles often heavier than he was;
here he curled up in his heavy coat, for all the world like one of the
bundles belonging to an emigrant and thus escaped detection.

CHAPTER VIII

IN FRISCO

"Well, Jim," said the chief engineer of the _Sea Eagle_, James
Darlington's yacht, "Captain William Broome, able seaman, and all round
pirate, has routed us horse and foot, taken your riches by proxy and the
yacht away from me by his own personal efforts."

"It does look like we were up against it," admitted Jim, "but we have a
fighting chance, and I propose to keep on that old codger's trail."

"Good for you, Jim," said his friend heartily, "but if I had a crew that
had been worth a tinker's curse, the night that he attacked the yacht, I
would have saved that for you! I verily believe that Broome owned
several men in my crew, and the rest of them were half breeds and
renegades, but the best that I could get together down in that forsaken
port."

"I don't blame you a bit, Chief," said Jim; "no man could have done more
for me than you did. Have some more of the olives."

"Thanks, I will."

The two were seated in a well-known restaurant, by a window looking down
on a busy thoroughfare. It was shortly after one o'clock in the
afternoon but the lights were lit, as a dense fog peculiar to San
Francisco had filled the atmosphere with an opaque gloom. There is a
peculiar attractiveness about a first class metropolitan restaurant. It
is a warm and pleasant refuge from the bleak heartlessness and merciless
activity of a great city.

Jim, in an unconscious way, was aware of this inner delightfulness of
the large softly lighted room, with the noiseless and obsequious
waiters, the flowers, the music, the presence of many women, whose
beauty and charm made the social life of this remarkable city a
brilliant one. Jim was by no means an adept social lion, but he had an
outward self-possession that stood him in good stead no matter where he
was. The music, and the lights, and the subdued gayety of the scene
about him, filled him with a certain elation.

Life seemed a very good thing to him, in spite of his present defeat,
and the fact that he was surrounded by very pressing dangers. He would
have been a very much surprised lad if he had been told that any of
these beautiful gowned women regarded him with any interest. But he
carried himself with a simple distinction and poise, that was derived
from varied and harsh experiences, that gave him a quiet self-reliance.

James Darlington was not handsome, but he was not bad looking, as he had
the power and grace of perfect health and condition. Even the few scars
of desperate encounters in the past had not disfigured him, and in his
neatly fitting gray suit, which his friend, the engineer, had helped him
select, his brown straight hair, smoothly brushed upon his long
masculine head, and clear gray eyes, Jim was a pleasant looking specimen
of American youth. The chief engineer of the _Sea Eagle_, was perfectly
aware of the certain amount of interest which Jim excited even if the
boy was entirely oblivious of it. He was a thorough man of the world and
regarded the scene which elated Jim, with a cool contentment and a
certain appraisal of contempt.

"I do hope that no girl will come along, and disturb the lad's head, he
is too good a fighting man to be made a fool of," he mused to himself,
as he noted the sparkle of interest in Jim's eyes as the boy watched the
diners at the different tables.

At that moment the orchestra in the flower hidden balcony began to play
the Mexican national anthem La Poloma, with its enchanting melody, and
the well-known strains made a deep rhythmic run through the boy's blood.
Outwardly the young masculine has no sentiment, but inwardly he is full
of a sense of romance, that he would be shy to confess.

"Here comes the distinguished personage himself," said John Berwick, the
chief engineer, "and his fair daughter, Castilians from Mexico, and that
accounts for the music. Why didn't they render 'Yankee Doodle,' when we
made our triumphal entry, eh, James?"

Jim merely grinned at his companion, and then his face sobered, and his
eyes opened wide. The new arrivals were by no means strangers to him.
The gentleman was tall and distinguished looking with white mustachios,
while his daughter was very dark after the Spanish type; the sheen of
her hair like that of a raven's wing, and her complexion of a pellucid
pallor, while her dark eyes had depth, and not merely surface.

Under the obsequious guidance of the head waiter, they passed directly
by the table where Jim and John Berwick were seated, so close indeed
that the flutter of the senorita's mantilla brushed Jim's arm. At the
second table beyond they were assigned places, the senor facing Jim. In
a way this was a relief to the youth, for he was terribly confused at
the sight of the girl and he was afforded time to collect his wits. The
senor did not even give a casual glance around, but confined his
attention to the menu.

"Old friends, Jim?" asked Berwick who was quick to note the lad's
perturbation.

"Why, yes," answered Jim, "there can be no doubt about it. I have told
you about our adventure in Mexico, where we saved the Senorita Cordova
from Cal Jenkins and his gang and were entertained at the castle by her
father. Well, there they are. I hardly think the senorita would
recognize me. It seems a long time ago."

"Don't you flatter yourself on that point," said the engineer. "Let her
once get a square look at you, and she will know you all right enough.
She had an uneasy suspicion when she went past, that she had seen the
distinguished gentleman with his back to her somewhere. She would like
to turn around now. What did I tell you, she has dropped her fan."

"You must have eyes in the back of your head," remarked James, "but the
waiter has picked it up."

"She smiles very sweetly in thanks," improvised the engineer, "but she
would like to swat him with it. These dear creatures are not as sweet as
they sometimes appear. Have you still the rose she gave you in the
castle in Spain--I mean Mexico?"

"Why, I didn't tell you about that did I?" asked the simple Jim. John
Berwick doubled over with silent laughter.

"You did not need to tell me," he said when he got his breath; "that
method is as old as the daughters of Eve."

"I guess I will go and introduce myself," said Jim hurriedly. "Come on,
Berwick."

"Hold on, Jim," said the engineer, "I don't think that is the wisest
plan. It makes it awkward for both sides, and people don't like to have
their lunch broken in on. We will wait for them in the lobby, or find
out at what hotel they are stopping and you can send up your card."

"You are coming, too, to call on them," said Jim impulsively; "I want
them to meet you." But John Berwick shook his head with slow emphasis
and decision.

"Nay, nay, James," he said, "I have a very susceptible heart. I might
become enamored with the fair senorita, that would be trouble, sequel
two ex-friends on the sea sands by moonlight, two revolvers flashing at
the signal, two beautiful corpses stretched out on the sad sea sands,
then slow music, all on account of a girl with dark hair who once wore a
red rose in it. Life to me is too interesting for any such nonsense."

Jim laughed at his friend's way of expressing himself, and tried to make
him change his mind about the proposed call, but an older man would have
told him that there was much sound sense under John Berwick's odd humor.
The truth was that the more experienced man of the world knew that the
real danger lay in the senorita's caring for him instead of the more
simple and straightforward Jim. Berwick knew that it was social
experience and knowledge that was apt to count for most in such matters.

"Lucky this isn't our busy day," remarked the engineer, as they waited
for the Senor da Cordova and his daughter to finish their lunch.

"It's Broome's move, anyway," replied Jim.

Just then there was an incident at the other table that invited their
attention.

CHAPTER IX

THE WATCHER

The Senorita da Cordova, had suddenly leaned forward in an animated
manner and spoke to her father indicating at the same time someone who
was standing under an awning on the other side of the thoroughfare.
Whether the man's presence caused her fright, or mere excitement it was
hard to tell.

"There he is, there he is!" she was heard to exclaim.

Jim followed the direction of her glance, and immediately he jumped to
his feet.

"Come on, Berwick," he cried, "we want that fellow across the street."

Berwick was puzzled but he knew that Jim was no alarmist who would start
on a wild goose chase, without rhyme or reason. He saw the figure across
the way but did not recognize who it was. Thrusting a bill into the
waiter's hands, a procedure the waiter did not resent, he followed Jim
out of the restaurant. As their sudden departure made a slight
commotion, the senorita turned her head and got a fair look at Jim. A
flush of surprise came into her face, and her dark eyes opened wide.

"Why, Father, look at the tall American going out," she whispered; "it
is the senor who saved me from the bandits."

"There are other tall Americans," he said with a smile; "there was a
resemblance but that happens frequently in life, my daughter, the other
man bore no resemblance to his brothers." The senorita shook her dark
head with emphasis.

"It was not nice of Senor James to run away from us, as though we had
the plague; it was certainly very far from nice, and I shall make him
pay some day."

"Senor James," exclaimed her father, a slight frown on his brow; "you
certainly have a remarkable memory, Marie."

"It is not at all wonderful, Father," replied the girl with much spirit;
"did he not save me from that terrible Senor Jenkins and his band? I
shall remember him as long as there is the breath of life in my little
body."

"His memory does not seem to be as retentive as yours," said her father
with quiet sarcasm. The senorita's face flushed at this thrust and she
sat moodily silent for a while, then something happened which changed
the current of her interest.

"Look," she cried, "the man across the street is running. What can be
the matter?"

"It is your friend, Senor James, and his comrade is the matter,"
remarked her father.

Sure enough the two were in fast pursuit of, "the man across the
street," and then they turned a corner but crossing to the further side
of the thoroughfare they were still in view.

"Oh, dear!" cried the senorita, "I wish I could be informed as to what
all this commotion is about and know who will win."

Let us follow them, and perhaps we shall find out. I daresay the astute
reader has already guessed the name of the gentleman who caused this
distinct and sudden interest and flung consternation and activity into
two separate groups. As James Darlington followed the glance of the
young girl, he had recognized the dwarfish figure of the Mexican who had
robbed him of his treasure and who had previously led him and his party
into dire trouble--hence his excitement, but why the interest of the
Senorita da Cordova?--Ah! that is another tale, but now to tell the
story of the chase, for upon the result much would depend.

"Take your hat and coat, Jim!" warned John Berwick, as the two rushed
from the restaurant.

"I won't bother with my overcoat!" shouted Jim; "I'm going to catch that
fellow now!"

"Take care of his coat!" cried Berwick to the boy in the lobby, tossing
him a quarter.

Then the two friends were outside in the foggy street, where phantom
street cars and passersby were moving through the thick white density
that had rolled in from the Pacific.

"Just wait here, James," said the engineer, as they stood sheltered by
the corner of the building from observation. "He don't know me from Adam
and I'll just saunter up and collar him."

"No, John," said Jim decidedly, "I'm just aching to get my hands on
him!"

Another reason which he was too wise to give, was that this same Mexican
was a most dangerous animal to handle even if taken unawares, and he
preferred to run the risk himself.

"I don't wish to spoil your game, Jim," replied Berwick, "so I will just
saunter along this side, and capture him if he escapes your clutches."

"All right," said Jim, "but he is a wary old fox and some of his pals
may be on the lookout too, so you had better stay here until you see me
on the other side of the street; I am not going directly across."

Jim was too old a campaigner to make a wild rush at his quarry and thus
run a chance of losing him in the shuffle. Then, too, he had a wholesome
regard for the cunning of his enemy, who was not to be easily trapped.
Accordingly Jim, instead of crossing the street, went down around the
next block.

In a short time Berwick saw a tall figure, with a black sombrero, emerge
from the fog down the street, walking casually along as if not
particularly interested in any of the landscape, but out of the corner
of his eye he watched the short, sinister-looking fellow he was after.
By some obscure instinct the Mexican scented danger and started up the
street, and Jim quickened his pace, as Berwick came around the corner
where he had been concealed. Instantly the Mexican took the alarm and
started on the run, but Jim was like a lion unleashed for his prey; in
another leap he would have felled the rascal to the earth, but the
Mexican, handicapped as to speed, knew the city as hand to glove,
especially every by-way, crooked lane, or devious alley.

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