Aunt Jane's Nieces on the Ranch

“Here is food,” he announced, as, having given up the idea of finding egress, he came upon the cans of tomatoes and corn.

“Yes; but we have no can-opener,” replied Mildred; “and, unless the contents were cooked, they would not be eatable.”

“I’m not thinking of the eatables,” said Runyon, taking out a small pen-knife, for he had already ruined the larger one he always carried. “Tomatoes usually have a lot of liquid in the cans, a sort of watery juice which I am sure would help to relieve your thirst.”

He began prying at the tin with a knife blade, but it was a heavy quality of plate, such as is rarely used nowadays, and resisted his attempt. Soon the blade of the frail tool snapped at the handle, and he tried the other blade. That, too, soon broke and Runyon regarded the can with a sort of wonder.

“It beats me,” he said, shaking his head. “But I don’t like to give up, and that tomato-juice would be of service if we could only get at it.”

Looking around for another implement his eye spied the revolver hanging upon its peg.

“Ah! if that weapon is loaded I’ll use a bullet as a can-opener,” he exclaimed, and reaching up he removed the revolver from its place.

“Good; six cartridges, 32 caliber,” said he. “Now, young ladies, if you can stand the noise, and the powder hasn’t spoiled, I believe I can make a hole in that can which will allow the juice to run out.”

“I don’t care,” said Inez, “but I will take Mees Jane upstairs, first.”

“The sound will echo like a regular battle,” said Mildred; “but as I am really thirsty and your suggestion of relief tempts me, I am willing to have you shoot the pistol.”

Runyon placed the can upon the edge of the low hinged table, where it stood about waist high. When Inez had gone above with little Jane, the man took a position whereby he faced obliquely the outer wall and aiming at the tomatoes said:

“Better stop up your ears, Miss – Mildred.”

She obeyed and he fired.

Even their anticipations could not prepare them for the wild riot of sound that followed the explosion. The bullet found its mark, for the can toppled and fell from the shelf and lay spilling its contents upon the floor. The bullet went farther and struck a crevice of the outer wall. A cloud of smoke for a moment obscured their view and Mildred, regarding the tomato-can, cried out:

“Oh, pick it up! Pick it up, quick! It is spilling.”

Runyon made no reply. He was staring straight ahead, in a dazed, bewildered way, and now Mildred’s eyes followed his.

The smoke was rolling out of a large aperture in the outer wall. Three huge blocks of adobe, neatly joined together, had swung outward, moved by a secret spring which the bullet had released.

Through the grim prison wall they were looking out at the sunshine that flooded the rose garden.

Mildred sank to her knees, sobbing with joy. Big Runyon walked to the staircase.

“Hi, there, Inez!” he called. “Come down here and take Toodlums to her mother. I’ll bet a button she’ll be jolly glad to see that kid again!”

CHAPTER XVIII – LACES AND GOLD

At four o’clock in the afternoon Patsy rubbed her eyes, yawned and raised her head from her pillow.

“Dear me!” she sighed, “I’m tired yet, but this sleeping in the daytime is unnatural. I wonder if Beth is awake.”

She went to the door of the adjoining room, opened it and found her cousin dressing.

“Do you suppose anyone else is up?” she inquired.

“See there,” replied Beth, pointing through the window.

Patsy saw. Mr. Runyon was seated on a garden bench in earnest conversation with Mildred Travers.

“Didn’t he go home this morning, after the excitement was over?” she asked.

“No,” replied Beth. “Mr. and Mrs. Hahn drove their car home, but our interesting neighbor at the north, Mr. Bul Run, declared there was nothing at his own ranch half so enticing as a bed here. He’s a bachelor, it seems, and leads rather a lonely life. So Arthur gave him a room and he went to bed; but it seems he has had his sleep out and is indulging in other recreations.”

Patsy was eyeing the couple in the garden.

“Mr. Runyon seems to have struck up a friendship with your protégé Mildred,” she observed.

“Yes,” answered Beth. “You know he was shut up in the wall with her and Inez for awhile and the adventure must have made them feel well acquainted. Wasn’t that imprisonment a most peculiar thing, Patsy?”

“Very peculiar. I haven’t had much time to think about it, for as soon as Toodlums was safe in Louise’s arms I went to bed. But it occurs to me to wonder how Mildred Travers knew so much of the secrets of this absurd old house and why she ventured to explore the hidden rooms in our absence. Put that with the fact that she lived in these parts as a girl, and with her eagerness to come out here – don’t you remember her fervent ‘thank heaven’? – and it seems the whole mystery isn’t unraveled yet; it’s only getting more tangled.”

Beth was thoughtful for a time.

“I am sure Mildred will have some explanation to make,” she said presently. “Don’t let us judge her just yet, Patsy. And I advise you to get dressed, for there’s Louise wheeling the baby, and perhaps everyone else is downstairs but us.”

“Louise and baby both slept all through that awful night,” remarked Patsy, again yawning. “No wonder they’re up and around and looking bright and happy.” But she took her cousin’s hint and dressed so rapidly that she descended the stairs only a few moments after Beth did.

Uncle John, the major and Arthur were in the court, smoking and sipping coffee. The events of the past night were still being earnestly discussed by them and much speculation was indulged in concerning the rooms in the hollow wall and the uses to which they had been put during the pioneer days when Cristoval constructed them, and even afterward when his son, the last owner, had occupied the premises.

“The entire ranch,” said Arthur, “as well as this house, was sold by the executors appointed by the court, for it seems that Cristoval had no heirs in this country. The money was sent over to Spain and divided among a host of relations, the executors were discharged, and that ended the matter as far as the law is concerned. But I am sure the secret of the wall was at that time unknown to any, for otherwise the furniture in those narrow rooms, some of which is expensive and valuable on account of its unique carving, and the bins of wine and other truck, would have been sold with the other ‘personal possessions.’ I bought this place of a man who had purchased it at the executors’ sale but never has lived in it. All the rooms were stripped bare, which goes to prove that the hidden recesses in the walls were unknown. Now, the question is, do I legally own the contents of that wall, or don’t I?”

“I stepped into the rooms, this morning, with the others, but merely glanced around a bit,” said Mr. Merrick. “I’ve an idea you may rightfully claim whatever is there. The value of such old, odd pieces is arbitrary and they wouldn’t total enough at an auction sale to bother about. My idea, Arthur, is that you remove whatever you care to retain, stop up the rat holes, and then seal up the place forever.”

“I suppose,” remarked the major, “those hollow places in the wall were of real value in the days of wild Indians and murdering highwaymen. But, as John Merrick says, they’re of no use to anyone now, but rather a source of danger.”

“Was that door left open?” asked Patsy.

“Yes; and I put a brace against it, so it couldn’t close and shut us out,” replied Arthur.

“That doesn’t matter; Mildred knows the way in,” said Beth. “The whole trouble was that Inez closed the door behind them and they couldn’t manage to get out again.”

Mr. Merrick sipped his coffee reflectively.

“That girl,” said he, “ought to explain how she knows so much – and so little.”

“And what she was doing in the secret rooms,” added the major.

“She’ll do that,” piped a high voice, and in sauntered Mr. Runyon and sat down to pour himself some coffee. “I’ve just left Miss – er – er – Travers, and she has decided to tell you all her whole story, frankly and without reservation, and then she wants to ask your advice.”

“Whose advice?” demanded Arthur.

“Everybody’s advice. She asked mine, a little while ago, and I told her to put it up to the crowd. The poor thing has had a sad history and there’s a bit of romance and tragedy connected with it; but she has been quite blameless. I haven’t known you people long, but I’ll bank on your generosity and fairness, and that’s what I told the poor girl.”

“Where is she now?” asked Patsy.