A DARING RAID.

A week had passed since Jim Morrison rode down from the hills to take the steamer from New York. Now he sat in his room in his B. V. D.'s and wondered how you married a girl who hated you.

His temperament was mercurial; he was either in the clouds or at the bottom of an abyss. That he had made an impression on Ellen he was sure, for she had kissed back; but what good did that do when she wouldn't let him see her any more? Here he was, stewing in this hole for her sake, and he couldn't think of any way to make her see him, while in the offing was that handsome peacock, Lopez, who knew all about making love to women.

His watch on the bureau said two thirty; the whole darn town, resident Americans as well as natives, would sleep until three. Nobody to talk to, nowhere to go, and drinks didn't help much.

Tap, tap--a knock on the door.

"Come in, whoever you are," he called wearily. The door opened and a very curious-looking man appeared on the threshold.

"_Perdóna me, señor_," he said, removing his hat, a very dirty Panama, and bowing very low. He was small, half Indian by the look of him. He wore a heavy black mustache, possessed only a few front teeth, and needed a bath very badly. He was dressed in what had once been a khaki uniform and around his waist was an ammunition belt from which was suspended a heavy revolver in a leather holster, and a hunting knife. On his feet were canvas shoes.

"What the deuce do you want?" demanded the American.

"You are Señor Morrison, _sí_?"

"Well, yes. What of it?"

"I introduce myself. I am General Esteban Pizzo." A second low bow.

Jim opened his eyes. "Not Pizzo, the bandit?"

"Pizzo, the patriot, _señor_."

"You got a nerve coming to town. Have a drink?"

"A thousand regrets, _señor_. There is not time. You will dress and come with me."

"You go to the dickens," Jim retorted. "Clear out! Scat!"

General Pizzo drew from his holster his very large revolver. "My men, they surround the hotel. You come or I kill."

"I'll come," Jim agreed quickly. He was unarmed and the fellow looked villainous. "But why? What for?"

"I think the Señor Morrison pay very large ransom for his son. That is why."

"Yes? Maybe he'll be glad to get rid of me. Can I put my clothes on?"

"_Porqué no?_"

Taking this for assent, Jim dressed leisurely, wondering how it was possible for the bandit and his men to enter Rosa Blanca in the face of the government army, walk into the leading hotel, and carry off one of its most prominent guests.

"We go now," Pizzo declared, and Jim walked in front of him with the uneasy feeling that a gun was pointed at the small of his back. They walked along the corridor and descended the staircase one flight to the ground floor. There were four bandits in the office. No guests were visible or servants. The bandits fell in behind their leader and the party moved to the door, which was suddenly blocked by Ellen Goring, who frowned at the sight of Jim, and then took in his escort with astonishment.

"What's this?" she exclaimed. "Another of your wonderful ideas?"

"Beat it, Ellen," he cried. "It's Pizzo, the bandit. I'm pinched."

"Are you crazy?" she demanded. "What--why--oh?"

For General Pizzo had come out from behind the broad form of Morrison and covered Ellen with his big revolver.

"I regret," he said in his weird English. "_La señorita_ is beautiful, but she make mistake to be here. Now she come with us. We take two prisoners."

The whole affair had struck Jim Morrison as being comic opera, but the statement of the bandit made it look very different. The brute was pointing a gun at Ellen and talking about taking her into the hills.

With his usual precipitancy he let fly his right fist at the chin of General Esteban Pizzo, caught him on the side of the jaw because he happened to move, and sent him down like a log, the revolver clattering on the floor. Jim forgot there were four more bandits behind him, and before he remembered he was struck on the back of the head with the butt of a long blue-barreled Colt and joined the general on the dirty stone floor.

A rush of bandits captured Ellen before she could utter a cry, and a dirty hairy hand covered her pretty mouth. General Pizzo got up from the floor with a snarl of rage, kicked Jim Morrison heavily in the ribs with one of his big boots, and then recovered his _sang-froid_.

"_Pronto!_" he exclaimed. "Throw the man and woman in the bottom of the car and let us depart."

* * * * *

There was nobody in the Plaza when Jim and Ellen were placed in the tonneau of a big though ancient touring car, and nobody to interfere when the five bandits climbed in after them and drove away. The machine rattled along through empty streets to the west side of the city and came to the barrier which was guarded.

Half a dozen soldiers and a sergeant piled out of a stone hut and the bandit who was driving stopped the car. The sergeant approached and demanded the password, whereupon Pizzo leaned out and said in a low tone:

"_El Presidente._"

"Pass," commanded the non-commissioned officer, and that was all there was to it.

Jim had received a savage blow and had been unconscious during the ten minutes required to get out of the city, but he recovered as the machine began to bump over the rough country road, and he opened his eyes to find Ellen's face within six inches of his own and her eyes filled with anxiety. He realized that his head was pillowed on her knees, and they were both in the bottom of an automobile. He recalled everything.

"My dear," he said, "I'm so frightfully sorry."

"Hush," she said softly. "You were wonderful. It wasn't your fault."

The machine was climbing now in second gear, for the foothills of the Sierras are close to the shore in Santa Rosa. The two bandits in the back seat were watching them closely with their weapons drawn and ready. He and Ellen were headed for hardships and dangers he could only suspect, but Jim was happier than he had been for a week, because his head was on Ellen's knees and she had said he was wonderful.

The machine was halted suddenly when several government cavalry men blocked the road. Again the password was efficacious, the horsemen drew to one side, and even the sight of two people in the bottom of the car did not seem to disturb them.

"Does your head hurt terribly?" she whispered.

He grinned at her. "It would if I moved. I'm terribly sorry about you, Ellen. They captured me to hold me for ransom, and no doubt they'll do the same for you. I'll see that they get whatever they ask."

"I'm not afraid. It was very brave of you to attack them when you saw that I was in danger." Her eyes were moist.

"Don't you know that I'd lay down my life for you?" he said softly. "Only, as usual, everything I do is wrong. They might have let you go if I had not hit Pizzo."

"No, no, they wouldn't," she protested. "They knew I would alarm the city. They had to take me."

Pizzo, in the front seat, turned his head.

"Silence back there," he commanded harshly.

Something made Jim chuckle. "What is it?" she whispered.

"Motor bandits in this God-forsaken country. Jesse James had a horse."

It was getting cooler as they climbed, and the car rattled and shook and bumped over a road which was more and more rocky and filled with holes. At the end of an hour it turned off the apology for a road and stopped a few rods within the jungle.

Pizzo got out first and approached the tonneau.

"Does the _señorita_ speak Spanish?" he asked.

Ellen nodded.

"It is my great regret that it has been necessary to take you with us," he said, his black eyes devouring her loveliness. "You shall see that General Pizzo is a _caballero_ who knows how to treat beautiful ladies. This man is rich. We hold him for ransom, but we hold you to delight the eyes of my brave patriots who one day will rule Santa Rosa."

"What's he saying?" demanded Jim, whose Spanish was hopeless.

Ellen had turned pale at what his remarks implied, but she feared to tell the headstrong youth. Jim was likely to get himself killed out of hand.

"Just fulsome compliments," she said.

"And now we must mount our horses," continued Pizzo. "If Señor Morrison cannot ride we shall tie him on a horse."

Jim most reluctantly lifted himself from his pillow. "I can ride," he said curtly.