It was not a long nor a hard fall, and, as he felt himself once more on a solid foundation, and looked up toward the sky, he saw he had not fallen more than twenty or twenty-five feet. What had really happened was that the roof of the cell, cracked by the explosion, had caved in with Adrian's weight, and he was in the very place he was wishing he was, although the condition of the cell had materially changed since Donald had looked down into it less than twenty minutes before.

Before the explosion, the cell had been a room some thirty feet square and twenty or more feet high. Now it was half filled with dirt and pieces of rock, the door which had guarded its entrance had been crushed, and through the opening Adrian caught a glimpse of the front entrance to the cave and the water beyond.

But there was no sign of Billie or the smugglers.

Pulling himself together and grasping his Marlin firmly, so as to be ready for any emergency, Adrian stepped cautiously toward the broken door. Hiding himself as well as he could behind the shattered casemate, he peered out into the cave.

The room was empty and at first there appeared no way in which the smugglers could have left except by the river, seeing which Adrian breathed easier.

"They must have gone out like the others," he thought, "and have been captured by the rurales."

Having arrived at this decision, he walked boldly out toward the river entrance.

But he had not advanced ten paces into the main cave before a noose fell silently over his shoulders, and he felt himself jerked violently backward.

The very act, however, caused him to tighten his grip upon his rifle, and the weapon was discharged, the report vibrating with an echo that made it seem almost a cannonade. At the same time his head came into contact with the hard floor with such force that it completely stunned him.

In the moment of consciousness between the report of the rifle and the time his head struck the floor, he saw a figure leap forward out of the darkness, and as he lost consciousness the sound of his own rifle seemed to be taken up and echoed back by an innumerable number.

And that was just exactly what happened.

The figure that had leaped forward was Donald, and the volley came from the carbines of a score of rurales, who had followed him into the cave, and fired pointblank at the smugglers over Adrian's prostrate form. The lariat in the hands of one of the smugglers had pulled Adrian to the earth, just in time to save him from the fire of the rurales.

For the next few minutes the battle in the cave raged with the utmost fierceness. The smugglers had taken their stand in an alcove, hewn into one side of the cave, a little above the floor level. A projecting shelf afforded them a slight shelter, and from this partially fortified position, they made a desperate fight. In fact, they were doing great damage among the rurales, and it had begun to look as though they might succeed in driving them to shelter, when a rattle of shots from their rear completely disconcerted them, and they threw down their guns and called out that they surrendered.

The next instant there emerged, seemingly out of the solid rock, three figures with blackened faces and tattered garments, who advanced toward the rurales. They were Billie, Santiago and Guadalupe.

"Don't shoot!" cried Billie, as the rurales, thinking them some new foe, raised their carbines. "We are friends!"

"Billie!" shouted Donald, dropping his revolver and grasping his stout comrade in both arms. "What has happened to you?"

"We were in the explosion."

"You look like you had been in a coal mine. Are you hurt?"

"Not a scratch-none of us!"

"Then look after Ad, while I help dispose of these cutthroats."

"Ad!" exclaimed Billie. "Is he hurt?"

"I don't know. There he is. Find out and do something for him as soon as possible."

Billie hastened to do Donald's bidding, but Santiago was before him. He raised the boy's head onto his knee, and from a small flask forced a few drops of liquid down his throat. A moment later Adrian opened his eyes, gave one look at the two blackened faces before him, and uttered a yell that brought everyone to "attention" as though a bomb had exploded.

"What is it?" asked Donald, jumping to Adrian's side.

"That's what I want to know! What is it?" pointing his finger at Billie.

Donald burst into a loud laugh. He had been under the most intense excitement for hours, and, as the ludicrousness of the situation struck him, he could not have kept from laughing had a howitzer been pointed at his head. His overwrought feelings simply relaxed, and he fairly screamed with laughter.

Realizing the humor of the situation, Billie speedily joined in, and the combined laughter of the two was so infectious that, without at all understanding what it was about, the rurales and smugglers also began to laugh. It is probable that no battle ever fought had such a remarkable ending.

For Adrian, it was the best thing that could have happened, for it brought him to himself, and he discovered at once who the three black-faced individuals were; but it was a bad thing for the rurales.

While they were indulging in their most enjoyable recreation, Don Rafael quietly withdrew into the darkness and disappeared into the opening through which Billie and Santiago had made their entrance.

Footnote:

[2]: Fugitive law.

CHAPTER XIII.

A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE.

It was a couple of hours later and the Broncho Rider Boys had just seen the rurales ride away toward Presidio del Norte with their prisoners.

The two hours had been spent in a vain endeavor to find Don Rafael, whose sudden disappearance and escape had taken away much of the success of the expedition. The boys had just made another examination of the cave, and were now grouped together on the water's edge, undecided what should be their next step.

"It is certainly the most mysterious affair I ever had anything to do with," declared Donald, "and we have solved some pretty big mysteries."

"Right you are," said Adrian. "I thought the mystery of the Zuni medicine man was the biggest mystery we should ever have to unravel, but this beats it."

"What was that?" asked Pedro, who was one of the company.

"It's most too long a story to tell now," replied Adrian, "but it was told in print a few months ago by a friend of ours, Mr. Frank Fowler, who wrote it into a book under the t.i.tle of 'The Broncho Rider Boys Along the Border.' I'll send you a copy when we get back to the States.

It was a mystery, all right, but we ferreted it out, hey, Don?"

"We sure did, and we must ferret this one out, too."

"The most mysterious part to me," said Billie, who up to this time had stood apart thinking, "is not the disappearance of Don Rafael, but the disappearance of Santiago. There is something unusual about him that I must know."

"The captain didn't seem to care much about his disappearance," said Adrian.

"I know he didn't, but he simply took him for another of the smugglers, while he believes that Don Rafael is the head of a new revolutionary movement. I am sure that this is not so."

"What?" asked Don. "Don't you think Don Rafael is stirring up a revolution?"

"I meant I didn't think as the captain does about Santiago," explained Billie.

"Oh! Well, what do you think about him?"

"I hardly know; but I don't believe he is a peon. I believe he is an educated man and is here in disguise for some purpose."

"What makes you think that?" asked Pedro. "He seemed like a peon to me."