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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/16968-8.txt b/16968-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ee6b225 --- /dev/null +++ b/16968-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7577 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Bad Man, by Charles Hanson Towne + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Bad Man + + +Author: Charles Hanson Towne + + + +Release Date: October 30, 2005 [eBook #16968] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BAD MAN*** + + +E-text prepared by David Garcia, Josephine Paolucci, and the Project +Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net/) from +page images generously made available by The Kentuckiana Digital Library +(http://kdl.kyvl.org/) + + + +Note: Images of the original pages are available through the + Kentuckiana Digital Library. See + http://kdl.kyvl.org/cgi/t/text/text-idx?c=kyetexts;cc=kyetexts;xc=1&idno=B92-259-31824852&view=toc + + + + + +THE BAD MAN + +A Novel + +by + +CHARLES HANSON TOWNE + +Based on the Play by Porter Emerson Browne + + + + + + + +G. P. Putnam's Sons +New York and London +The Knickerbocker Press + +1921 + +Copyright, 1921, by G. P. Putnam's Sons +Printed in the United States of America + + + +[Illustration: HOLBROOK BLINN AS "THE BAD MAN."] + + + +To + +HOLBROOK BLINN + + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER + +I.--Wherein it is shown that a young American had the courage to come into +a new country; how fate played against him, and a neighbor looked longingly +at his ranch + +II.--Wherein, far away, another man hears whispers of the wealth along the +border, and comes down to see about it + +III.--Wherein Uncle Henry speaks his mind--as usual + +IV.--Wherein "Red" reveals his heart, and Mrs. Quinn gives him good coffee +and good advice + +V.--Wherein Gilbert Jones is worried, and Lucia Pell is asked to do an +impossible thing + +VI.--Wherein an old love awakens, Pell reveals his true colors, a mortgage +is about to be foreclosed, the contents of a satchel are made known, Uncle +Henry springs a sensation, and Pell takes an option + +VII.--Wherein Lucia sees treachery brewing, Pell proves himself a brute, +and an unexpected guest appears + +VIII.--Wherein the bandit expounds a new philosophy, and makes marionettes +of the Americans + +IX.--Wherein Uncle Henry chatters some more, there is an auction, and +things look black indeed + +X.--Wherein an old friendship comes to life, Lopez learns a thing or two, +and finally makes a match + +XI.--Wherein a man proves himself a craven, a shot rings out, and the bad +man explains one little hour + +XII.--Wherein the bad man cannot understand the good man, and disappears; +and a dead man stirs + +XIII.--Wherein an old situation seems about to be repeated, another shot is +fired, and the bad man comes back + +XIV.--Wherein an old friend returns, and there is a joyful reunion + + + + +THE BAD MAN + + + + +CHAPTER I + +WHEREIN IT IS SHOWN THAT A YOUNG AMERICAN HAD THE COURAGE TO COME INTO A +NEW COUNTRY; HOW FATE PLAYED AGAINST HIM, AND A NEIGHBOR LOOKED LONGINGLY +AT HIS RANCH + + +Looking back now, after so many months of struggle and foreboding, he +wondered how he had ever had the high courage to come to this strange +country. Had he been a few years older he would not have started forth--he +was sure of that now. But the flame of youth was in him, the sure sense +that he could conquer where others had miserably failed; and, like all +virile young Americans, he had love of adventure, and zest for the unknown +was in his blood. The glamour of Arizona lured him; the color of these +great hills and mountains he had come to love captivated him from the +first. It was as if a siren beckoned, and he had to follow. + +For days he had been worried almost to the breaking point. Things had not +shaped themselves as he had planned. Event piled upon event, and now +disaster--definite disaster--threatened to descend upon him. + +All morning, despite the intense heat, he had been about the ranch, +appraising this and that, mentally; pottering in the shed; looking at his +horses--the few that were left!--smiling at the thought of his wheezing +Ford, wondering just when he would clear out altogether. + +Not that young Gilbert Jones was a pessimist. And yet he wasn't one of +those damnable Pollyanna optimists he so abominated--the kind who went +about saying continually that God was in His heaven and all was right with +the world. No, indeed! He was just a normal, regular fellow, ready to face +a difficult situation when it came about as the natural result of a series +of events. He saw the impending catastrophe as the logical finale of many +happenings--for some of which he was not in any way responsible. + +Who could have foreseen the Great War, for instance? Surely _that_ was not +his fault! A pitiful archduke was murdered in a European city. He +remembered reading about it, and then instantly dismissing it from his mind +as of no consequence. He never connected himself with so remote an event. +Yet a few years later he, with many others, was fighting in France--a +lieutenant in the United States Army--just because a shot had been fired at +a man he had never heard of! + +A strange world, he pondered, as he looked out over the blue hills, heavy +with heat, and meandering away to God knows where. + +Then, surely it was no fault of his if the Government under which he lived +made no strenuous effort to stop the Mexican massacres of American citizens +all along the border. One firm word, one splendid gesture, and daring raids +would have ceased; and there would have been no menace of bandits +hereabouts. It would have been a country fit to live in. There would have +developed a feeling of permanence and peace, and a young chap could have +made his plans for the future with some sense of security and high +optimism. Surely they were entitled to protection--these brave boys and +stalwart sons of America who fearlessly took up claims, staked all, and +strove to make homes in this thrilling section along the borderland. They +were not mere adventurers; they were pioneers. They were of the best stuff +that America contained--clean-cut, clear-eyed, with level heads and high +hearts. Yet their own Government did not think enough of them to offer them +the sure protection they were entitled to. + +Gilbert looked back on that distant day when he had gone up to Bisbee and +purchased four head of cattle, and brought them himself to this ranch he +had purchased, happy as only a fool is happy. Within a week they had +mysteriously disappeared. + +Rumors of Mexican thieves and assassins had come to him, as they had come +to all the young land-owners along the line. He recalled how, after one +raid, in which a good citizen had been foully murdered in his bed, he had +called a meeting of the ranchers in their section, and with one voice they +agreed to send a protest to Washington. + +They did so. Nothing happened. An aching silence followed. They wrote +again; and then one day a pale acknowledgment of their communication came +in one of those long and important-looking unstamped envelopes. It seemed +very official, very impressive. But mere looks never helped any cause. They +were not naïve enough to expect the Secretary of State to come down in +person and see to the mending of things. But a platoon of soldiers--a +handful of troops--would have worked wonders. Jones always contended that +not a shot would have to be fired; no more deaths on either side would be +necessary. The mere presence of a few men in uniform would have the desired +effect. The bandits, now prowling about, would slink over the invisible +border to their own territory, and never be heard of again. Of that he felt +confident. + +But no! Watchful waiting was the watchword--or the catchword. And the +eternal and infernal raids went on. + +It was while they were having their community meeting that he had come to +know Jasper Hardy and his young daughter Angela, who occupied the next +ranch, about a mile and a half south of his. Before that he had been too +busy to bother about neighbors. "Red" Giddings, his foreman, had spoken +once or twice about "some nice folks down the line," but he hadn't heard +much of what he said. There were always a hundred and one odd jobs to be +done around the place--something was forever needing attention; and when +Uncle Henry wasn't grumbling about something, he was forcing his nephew to +play checkers or cribbage or cards with him. And, working so hard all day, +he was glad to turn in early at night. Social life, therefore--unless you +could call high words with a crabbed invalid a form of social life--didn't +come within Gilbert's ken. It was work, work, work, and the desire to make +good every moment for him. + +But Hardy proved to be an aggressive fighter when the meeting took place, +and spoke in sharp tones of the Government's dilatoriness. He had come to +Arizona right after his wife's death in the East, and brought his only +daughter and a few servants with him. He seemed to have plenty of money, +and he was anxious lest the invading Mexicans should get any of it away +from him. His holdings, in the eight years since he had come to the border, +amounted to several thousand well-cultivated acres; and he looked like a +man who, when he set out to get anything, would get it. He had an +inordinate desire to grab up some more territory. Tall and thin, and +sharp-featured, as well as sharp-tongued, he resembled a hawk. It was +difficult to realize the fact that the pert and lovely little Angela--who +lived up to her name only once in a while!--was his own flesh and blood. It +was as incongruous as though a rose had grown on a beanstalk. + +On their very first meeting, Gilbert had not been pleasantly impressed with +Hardy. But he soon saw that the man had a certain rugged strength, and +there was no doubt he had suffered from the depredations of Mexico's casual +visitors, and was ready to protect not only his own interests but those of +any newcomers. He seemed to have the spirit of fair-mindedness; and he +believed firmly in the possibilities of this magic land, particularly for +young men. "It's God's country," he told Gilbert on more than one occasion. +"Get into the soil all you can. Dig--and dig deep." + +He said this over and over. It ran like a refrain through every +conversation he had with anyone. He preached the gospel of labor. And he +did work himself; there was no shadow of doubt as to that. He had struck +oil himself, and had made a goodly extra pile. Now, unknown to young Jones, +he was casting envious eyes on his ranch; and when the war came and Gilbert +went overseas in a burst of fine patriotism, and later came other +disasters, he was quick to snatch his opportunity. + +Why go to Bisbee, he told Jones, to see who would take up his mortgage? +What were neighbors for, if not to come in handy in such unpleasant +emergencies? And he laughed. + +The long and short of it was that Hardy took an option on Gilbert's +property, and held it at this very moment. It was better so, thought +Gilbert. Better to be foreclosed by a friendly neighbor, who might hesitate +to drive one out at the last moment, than under the thumb of some unknown +individual way down the valley. + +Four years of it--and he had come to this! Well, he'd take his medicine +like a man. He had done his best, and no one could do more. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +WHEREIN, FAR AWAY, ANOTHER MAN HEARS WHISPERS OF THE WEALTH ALONG THE +BORDER, AND COMES DOWN TO SEE ABOUT IT + + +Up North there was a man with a jaw like a rock, and hard, steel-gray eyes. +He had his fingers on the pulse of business, and employed agents everywhere +to serve his interests. His office in New York, in the heart of the great +financial district, was like a telephone exchange--he the central who +controlled the wires, put in and drew out the plugs, and played the +fascinating game of connecting himself with any "party" he thought worth +while. A shrewd, inveterate gambler, he was without scruples. He lived for +one purpose: to make money. For one person: Morgan Pell. + +There had been whispers concerning his methods. They were often +questionable, to say the least; but, like all men who work quietly beneath +the surface of the world of business, Pell covered up his tracks with as +much genius as he displayed in consummating a big deal. There should be no +loose ends if he was ever charged with corruption. Down in his soul he knew +he was a coward. He could not face disgrace, any more than he could face +the guns of battle. If his pillow was not always a restful one at night; if +he tossed more than he should at his age--he was but thirty-eight--no one +knew it. His conscience smote him now and then. In his earlier days he had +tricked a widow and caused her to be separated from her last penny. +Afterwards, he learned she had committed suicide. He shuddered. In fact, he +suffered a little for two long years. Then he forgot about her. Life was +life, and though it played unfairly with some, to others it gave beds of +roses; and after all we were but puppets of fate, and each must take his +chances, and not complain if he did not hold the winning hand. There were +only so many to go around. A lottery--that's what it was. And just as +people left a card table, a few widows and orphans had to clear out of the +big gambling-hall of life. It was as plain as day. + +To a man like Pell, a wife was a necessity--but only a secondary +consideration. Of course he must marry, keep up an expensive ménage, and +prove to the world that he was successful even where women were concerned. +He must give his wife the proper background, do all the necessary things; +furnish the right setting for his jewel. Children? Bah! They were not +essential. He had no paternal instinct whatever. Enough that he should +support in luxury and affluence the woman he deigned to make his wife, and +entertain in his home the people who could and would be of use to him. + +Every least act of his life was arranged, specifications written, plans +drawn, and blueprints made. One day he decided that he wished a beautiful +Italian villa on the north shore of Long Island. He pressed a button, +ordered his secretary to get in touch immediately with his architect; and a +half-hour later the latter was at his desk ready to talk of the nebulous +house. Within twenty-four hours he had arranged everything--not a detail +was forgotten. + +That is how he did things. He set out to find a wife in the same +matter-of-fact manner. He met many women; but Lucia Fennell was the only +one who set his pulse beating a little faster. He felt it a shame that he +should be so weak. They were at a dinner-party at the country home of a +mutual friend. + +It was her eyes that held him first. He had never seen quite such +eyes--blue, with a curious depth that spoke of many things--the eyes of a +girl who, had he been wiser, he would have known had been in love before. +This was the type of woman who never loved but once, and then with all her +strength beyond her own high dreams of what love should be. But though Pell +could appraise men, judge them swiftly and surely, he was a fool where a +girl was concerned. He had never spent much time on them. Frankly, they +bored him. He liked far better the subtle game of finance. He had no +finesse in a world of women, and he would have been the easiest possible +prey of an adventuress. + +But Lucia was far from that. Of the best family, with old traditions, she +moved among the set she wished; but society, so called, did not appeal to +her. She preferred people with brains rather than the idle rich; and she +had traveled a great deal, and known the world in strange places. She was +very young when she met the one man of all men for her. Like all women of +great beauty she had known many men who were infatuated with her. Those +gifts and attentions which are the rightful dower of every charming girl +were hers in abundance; and she received them as a queen might have done +from subjects hardly worthy to sit beside her. Then she met--one man. + +It was during a trip she had made with her aunt through New England. He was +poor. To her, that made no difference. She would have gone with him to the +ends of the earth. The flame had touched her heart; she was a victim, like +many another; and when her lover, too proud to ask her to share his poverty +with her, stayed behind when she went back to New York, and failed to write +to her, she almost died of grief. But life had to be faced. One word from +her--she, too, was proud,--and there might have been a different story to +tell. But with the foolish self-consciousness of lovers, each failed the +other in the great moment that would have sealed their destinies. + +Lucia determined that this broken affair should not wreck her existence. +But she brooded long, in secret, and would go nowhere. Her aunt, with whom +she lived, could not rouse her for many months to a sense of the vivid +world around her. She would see no one. + +Two years later Morgan Pell came into her life, at almost the first dinner +she had attended during a long period of time. His impulsiveness, his +assurance, his faith in himself and his power to win her, swept her +temporarily off her feet. At their second meeting he asked her to become +his wife. Why not? She would never love anyone; but she could not go to the +altar with him unless she told him the truth. She did not love him. Was he +willing to take her, knowing this? + +He was. Love meant little to him--though he did not say so. He was just +wise enough to keep that secret within himself. + +"I'll make you love me," he told her, with all the ardor he could put into +his voice. Few women can withstand that age-old phrase. + +There followed a time of utter disillusion for her. The great house on the +Avenue proved to be but four bleak walls; and when the villa on Long Island +was built, she tried to be as enthusiastic as Morgan wanted her to be. He +lavished gifts upon her. He brought out gay house-parties for weekends. +Lucia did her best to keep her part of a bad bargain. She made herself +lovely, and Pell was proud of her physical charms. The jewel was worth the +finest settings, and these he supplied, with no thought of the cost. He had +someone at the head of his table of whom he was very proud. The world need +never know the solemnity of their lives when the curtain was lowered and +they were alone together. After all, many marriages were like this. Theirs +was by no means an exceptional case; and he experienced a curious secret +joy in the fact that he knew other men envied him his wife, and wondered at +his power to hold her. + +And so the months rolled by, with a trip abroad now and then to relieve the +tedium of existence. For a woman to know that she comes to be tolerated +only because she is decorative, is a consummating blow. Pell soon reached +the point where he told Lucia he had bought her, body and soul. He had +determined to win her love. When he saw that he could not, he swiftly +forgot the integrity of her part of the bargain, the honesty of her words +to him before they were married; and he practised subtle cruelties to tame +her and bring her at last to him. + +He began to drink too much. Only a certain pride in his business affairs, +the desire to keep a level head, a clear brain, kept him from sinking +definitely to the gutter. He became irritable with her. Nothing she did +pleased him. He found he could not wound her sufficiently when he was +sober; so he fortified himself with alcohol, gained courage to speak flat +truths, and left her alone for days at a time, thinking such absences were +a punishment. + +Had he but known it, they were the only bright oases in her monotonous +life. She blessed those hours when he mercifully remained away on the +pretext of business. What he did gave her little concern. + +Once she ventured to talk frankly with him about the wisdom of a legal +separation. It was foolish to go on in this way. It was dishonest; it was +the only immorality. + +He laughed her to scorn. "You're too useful to me, my dear," he sneered. He +always added that "my dear" to any statement when he wished to be +thoroughly sarcastic. + +He was conscious that certain captains of business would not have come so +frequently to his home if Lucia had not been there to dispense a supposedly +gracious hospitality. Let her go? Lose all this? Not at all! He brutally +told her so again and again. And finally she made up her mind, for the sake +of peace, that she would merely remain the flower under glass, if that was +his desire. Arguments were of no avail. In a sense, she was beaten. + +The opera, books, travel, a few good friends--those that Morgan allowed +her to keep--these filled her days. + +One evening she was particularly surprised when he said to her, casually: + +"How would you like a little trip out West? You look peaked. Maybe it would +set you up." + +"Why--it sounds nice, Morgan," she answered. "Is it business, or--" Her +sense of humor made it impossible for her to bring out the word "pleasure." + +"Of course it's business," he replied. "Precious little else I get." They +were dining alone, at home, and he motioned the butler to refill his glass +with champagne. + +She wondered at his suggestion. There must be something behind it. But as a +matter of fact she was tired of Long Island, and if she could kill a few +weeks--maybe a few months--in the West, she would willingly go. + +"Sturgis telegraphed me that there was a big possibility of a new vein of +oil down on the border," Pell was telling her. "Some important men want to +talk things over with me at Bisbee. I want to get started in a day or two. +Don't take your maid. It's a rough country, but you'll be all right. Just +old clothes. You can ride a lot, so bring your habit. I'll be busy most of +the time; but I think you'll like the trip. Never been down that way, have +you?" + +"No," she said. "And I've always wanted to go." + +"Not afraid of bandits?" he laughed, sipping his champagne. "It's right +next door to Mexico, you know. Have some swell times down there, they say." + +She laughed too. "How exciting," she said. She grew almost jubilant at the +prospect of the journey. She knew she would probably be "shown off" to the +important men; and that touched her vanity--what little she had left by +now. + +"They tell me it's God's country, with big chances for everyone. I want to +add to our little pile, Lucia," Pell went on. He hoped she would get the +significance of the "our." + +"You're too good to me, Morgan," she said, and meant it. "But why do we +need any more money? We've got everything now." + +"Everything?" he said, significantly; and his eyes became two narrow slits +as he looked at her. + +She toyed with her salad. She hoped he was not going to get into one of his +fiendishly unpleasant moods. + +"Well," she ventured, "as much as anyone could reasonably want. This house, +the garden, friends--" + +"Yes," he sneered, "but not much love." The butler had tactfully withdrawn. +"Why don't you love me, Lucia?" + +"I do--in a way. Oh, let's don't go into all that again, Morgan. We've had +it out so many times. What's the use?" + +"Is there anyone else?" he asked. "If I thought there was...." He lifted +his glass again. + +"You know there isn't," she protested. + +He appraised her across the table, beautiful in a blue gown which just +matched her eyes, her throat adorned with a string of pearls he had given +her on the anniversary of their marriage. + +"I don't see how a woman as lovely as you can be so cold," he said. "You +could do anything with men." + +She tried to smile. "But I don't want to. Women--good women--don't like to +play with fire. It's only adventuresses who dare to face danger.... But +let's talk about Arizona. How good it will be to get out of this hothouse +of the East, and see real people--real flesh-and-blood men and women." + +"Yes. The folks down there know more about life in a day than we do in all +our pitiful lives. You've got to live close to nature to understand human +nature. Simple, isn't it?" + +"Very. We're all so false up here. I get so tired of it, Morgan. Maybe down +there we'll come to a better understanding of each other. Maybe...." + +"That's what I was hoping. So you'd like to go--really?" + +"Yes, indeed. It'll be hot, that's all. But I won't mind that. Anything to +get away for awhile." + +Two days later they had started. The land was green with early summer, in +that rich fullness which makes the heart almost sick with ecstasy. The +farther west they went, the wilder the country grew; and when they finally +dipped down into Arizona, Lucia looked from the train window, her face +alight with joy. Such scenic variety she had never dreamed of. One moment +they were looking at the wonderful mesas and superb canyons; the next they +seemed to pass through dry gullies and great shallow basins. Then there +would come long, weary levels of sand that gleamed in the sun; and far away +she would behold tremendous buttes. The valleys they passed through were +verdant and lovely. Cattle grazed here in a calm peace. It was as if the +rest of the world were shut out, and in this quiet land a special blessing +had come down. The peace of it, the stillness of it crowded in upon her. +She had been to California, but always she had traveled by a northern +route, and had missed the wonder of this part of the world. Before their +journey was over, she had begged Morgan to take her to the Grand Canyon; +and for two days they remained there, drinking in the glory of perhaps the +most beautiful spot on the western continent. She could not get enough of +it--those colors that sank into her heart and consciousness and made her +think she was in paradise. To see the sun rise here--she almost wept that +morning when the lord of heaven came over the mountains that towered like +huge sentinels, impervious to wind and gale and rain. + +"I can't stand such beauty, Morgan," she said at last. "It takes something +out of me. We'll have to go on." + +She saw the giant cactus in full bloom, a miracle of orange, pink, and +crimson; and as they sped south the mountainsides were aflame with juniper +and manzanita. + +At last they reached the little town of Bisbee, where Morgan was to have a +conference with several engineers. Sturgis met them--a fair-haired fellow +with a captivating smile. He liked this country, and told Pell he wished he +could always be kept here. There was no doubt about the new vein of oil, +and new ranches were being opened up rapidly. Only a few miles away was one +that promised well; and the young chap on it was in money difficulties. A +good chance to step in. There had been rumors that a neighbor had taken up +his mortgage; but maybe this was not so. Perhaps they weren't too late. He +had telephoned over, and the youngster had agreed that Pell and his wife +could come and stay with him and his invalid uncle for awhile. Of course he +knew nothing of their intentions. That would never do. They would just lie +low. In fact, he, Sturgis, need not accompany them, except to the hotel. +The ranch-owner's foreman would fetch them out in a Ford. Not a bad trip at +all--only a few miles. It would be better to stop down there. They could +comb the country, get acquainted, see how things were, and keep a vigilant +eye on everything. + +Sturgis had arranged things nicely. "Red" Giddings came over, as planned, +and Lucia liked his pleasant face at once. He was full of enthusiasm for +the country, loved the outdoor life. "Mr. Jones has had hard luck, though," +he said, as they whirled along the road on an afternoon of unbelievable +heat. + +"Jones!" Lucia said. + +"Yes--Gilbert Jones," Giddings replied. "Ever hear of him?" + +For an instant Lucia could hardly see the valley that spread around them. +But it couldn't be possible! It was a common name; there could easily be +two Gilberts--fifty, for that matter. Was this the reason Morgan had asked +her to come? Had he discovered the man with whom she had once been in love, +and was this to be one of his subtle punishments? He had told her not to +bring her maid, and he had been mysterious, she remembered now, as to their +exact destination. But Sturgis had made it clear, on the contrary, that he +had accidentally learned of Jones's ranch. Maybe that was part of the +trick. But what good would come of such a scheme? She and Jones had +loved--and parted. Moreover, perhaps she was giving herself needless cause +for worry. This might not be the Gilbert Jones of her dreams. And what if +Morgan did know? There was nothing to conceal. + +"How--long has he been here?" Lucia wanted to know. + +"Oh, before the war we agreed to try our fortune together down here," "Red" +told her; and the little machine went whirring along. "That's the Hardy +ranch," he said, pointing to the left. "Nice folks." His eyes seemed to +cling to the low house, and Lucia did not realize it at the time, but he +slowed up the car. Presently a young girl came out on the stone terrace and +waved to him. She was like a prairie flower. "Red" Giddings became another +man in the twinkling of an eye. A flush mounted to his cheeks, and a smile +as broad as a fat man's belt all but encircled his countenance. He took one +hand from the wheel and waved until they were out of sight down a curve in +the road. + +"Friend of yours?" said Morgan Pell, smiling. + +"You bet! No finer little girl in this territory!" Giddings replied +promptly. + +They were now in sight of the Jones ranch. "There she is!" "Red" cried. +"Pretty, eh?" + +The low adobe house, with its gleaming roof, looked like a jewel set in the +valley. Far away, seemingly to the very rim of the world, the flat lands +stretched; and then beyond, in a golden haze, the stern mountains loomed, +almost kissing the sky. The range dwindled away in an endless line, and +one could never say where the boundary of Arizona stopped and the unseen +border of Mexico began. The two countries simply merged in the mist. It was +as if a battalion of petrified soldiers kept eternal guard in the sun, half +the line loping over into another camp, but never caring at all. In the +still heat of the afternoon, sagebrush lifted its bright face to the +heavens; and now and then a lonely bird swooped above the rich ranches and +desolate valleys, making a black dot against the sky. A soft wind was +blowing now, bringing mercy from the west, and silence brooded like an +angel, stretching out its wings as though to shelter a troubled world. + +A young man with black hair and tanned skin came out in the yard, hatless. +A gray flannel shirt and a flowing tie, high leggings that laced through +many brass clips, completed his picturesque costume. + +One look--and she knew it was Gilbert--_her_ Gilbert. He recognized her at +the same instant, and a curious light came into his dark eyes. She had been +thinking, all the way down the road, how she should greet him if indeed he +turned out to be that one man in the world. Calmly, yes. She was sure now +that Morgan knew and suspected nothing. It was simply a coincidence that +they should be coming to the adobe of this old love of hers. The long arm +of fate had reached out and snatched her into this ring. She knew that +Gilbert could meet the situation as seemingly unconcerned as she. There was +nothing at all to fear. + +He was their host, and he greeted them as only a good host knows how. +Fortunately, Morgan wanted to go directly to his room. He was cross and +tired, he said, and he desired to freshen up. + +She got out of the car, and "Red" rattled down to the home-made garage a +few rods away. + +They were alone; and they stood there in the path for a moment, looking +into each other's eyes. + +"He is my husband," Lucia then found herself saying. "I am now Mrs. Pell." + +"What are we going to do?" Gilbert asked. He had the face of a dreamer, she +thought. The steel-gray eyes were full of fire and longing. What had these +few years done to him? + +"We are going to do nothing at all. What _is_ there to do? We shall not be +here many days. If you'd rather we went back to Bisbee...." + +"Oh, no! That would only make an issue of nothing. He doesn't know +anything? You're sure? Oh, Lucia!" He seemed suddenly overcome at their +amazing meeting. + +She saw that she would have to be the mistress of the situation. +"Don't--don't, Gilbert," she begged. "I am just a guest of yours." + +"I know--I know," he said, and there was a shade of anguish in his voice. +"Forgive me. There shall be absolutely nothing said. Not even a gesture. I +promise you that. It is as though we had never known each other." + +"Surely we can play a part. It isn't as if we were children," she said, and +smiled. + +He looked at her--indeed, his eyes had never left her face. Never had she +seemed so wonderful to him. + +"I'm in bad," he told her. "Got to give the old place up. But what's that +to you?" There was a sound behind them. "Here comes Uncle Henry!" + +A wheel chair came out of the doorway. In it sat an old man of about sixty. +But he did not look much like an invalid. His cheeks were rosy, and his +abundant white hair was brushed back from a forehead of fine moulding. His +eyes were penetrating--as young as Gilbert's, almost. Ten years before he +had become paralyzed in his legs, and now he wheeled himself about, not at +all uncomfortable. + +"Uncle Henry, this is Mrs. Pell. Come out and meet her," his nephew said. + +Lucia felt that she should go to the invalid; but he beat her to it. Quick +as a billiard-ball he had reached her side, turning the wheels of his chair +with great rapidity. + +"Pleased to meet you," he said, and put out a white hand. "How long you +goin' to stay?" + +"What a question," Gilbert laughed. "As long as she and her husband wish, +of course." + +"Well, by cricketty ginger!" Henry Smith exclaimed. "Hope you'll give 'em +enough to eat!" And before anyone could say another word, he had turned and +scooted back into the house. + +"Don't mind Uncle Henry," Gilbert said to Lucia. "He's got a heart of gold, +but he can be cranky and eccentric sometimes. Maybe he's got one of his +moods to-day. I never know. Tomorrow he'll be all right--perhaps. I hope +so, anyhow.... But come inside. You must be tired after your trip. Your +rooms are upstairs." + +He led her into the prettiest low-beamed room she thought she had ever +seen. Indian pottery was all about, low settles, a fireplace that conjured +up a cozy picture of lonely winter evenings, and an entrancing staircase +without a balustrade that led to a dark blue door. On the walls were some +beautiful Navajo blankets, and a tiny alcove off to the right seemed to +lead to another part of the long low house. The windows were brightly +curtained, and all the furniture had a look of endurance and permanence--a +manly room, she thought. Yet how ironical this appearance of firmness and +stability was, in view of the reason of their visit! He had said he must +give the place up. What a wrench it would be for him! + +Women seldom like to see a bachelor--particularly a young bachelor--living +in such solid comfort. As Lucia went up the stairs, she saw little touches +she could give to the place. But she had to confess that the improvements +she could suggest were not at all important. If two men could get along so +well without feminine society, perhaps one of them didn't miss her much, +after all! + + + + +CHAPTER III + +WHEREIN UNCLE HENRY SPEAKS HIS MIND--AS USUAL + + +It was high noon, two days later. Gilbert again had been about the ranch +looking things over. He had his dreamy moments, but he was far too +practical to let the poet in him rule his life. One sensed, by the most +cursory glance, that here was a type of virile young American who could not +only dream, but make his dreams come true. No idler he! And he had no use +for idlers. He had dared to come to this far country, establish himself on +a ranch, and seek to win out in the face of overwhelming odds. + +How many other young men had staked all on a single game--and lost. That +was one of the finest qualities of the Americans who migrated to this vast +section of the country. They were always good losers, as well as modest +winners. The land was rich in possibilities, as Sturgis had told Pell; and +though the hot season lasted interminably and caused one's spirits, as well +as one's hopes, to droop, there were enchanting spring days and bright, +colorful, dwindling autumns when the air was keen and clear, and life was a +song with youth for its eternal theme. + +Men with families bore the hardest burdens in their early struggle for +success. Gilbert, being single, had less to worry about than many another; +but his Uncle Henry was a handicap. For Uncle Henry used his invalid's +chair much as a king might use his throne--a vantage place from which to +hurl his tyrannous speeches. And there was no come-back. Uncle Henry had +reigned too long to be fearful of any retort from any mere subject who +walked about on two firm legs. For ten years he had held court, moving his +little throne about with sudden jerks. When things did not go entirely his +way, he could always withdraw--expertly, swiftly, cleverly. Doorsills were +nothing to him. He skimmed them dexterously, as a regiment might storm a +hill. Fortunately, he suffered no pain, though sometimes, in a frenzy, he +affected a twinge in his body, and caused a helpless look to sweep over his +countenance. As a rule, this trick worked beautifully; for who could be +cruel to an invalid in pain? Being a bachelor, and having no relative +closer than Gilbert, the latter took him under his roof. He really liked +the old boy, despite his querulousness. + +To-day, Uncle Henry was in one of his temperamental moods. Gilbert, sitting +calmly at the little table, writing, in the low main room of the adobe, +could hear the chair whirling about, each wheel vocal, and revealing the +state of mind of the occupant. + +"Gosh! ain't it hot!" finally came from Uncle Henry, his voice a drawl. + +Gilbert said nothing. There was nothing to say. Of course it was hot; and +he knew Uncle Henry could be depended upon to continue any conversation +once begun. Sure enough, it wasn't the weather at all that he was deeply +interested in, but the forthcoming midday meal. "Say, ain't we never goin' +to eat? I'm as hungry as a bear." + +"Dinner ought to be ready now," Gilbert answered patiently, never looking +up from his paper. + +Uncle Henry was not satisfied. "Then why ain't it," he rasped, giving his +chair a twist, "I ain't had nothin' but a rotten cup of coffee since five +o'clock this mornin'." + +His nephew rose, and went over to the mantel-piece. How often he had heard +just that remark! He didn't bother to reply to it. Instead, he merely +silenced his uncle with a gesture. Uncle Henry didn't like being silenced. +He looked around, as peevish as a spoiled child, and picked at the cloth +that rested on his knees. Then he switched his chair within reach of the +table, and snatched up a newspaper, much as a boy might grab the brass ring +at a merry-go-round. He would read, if he couldn't make his nephew talk; +and he buried himself in the printed page. Gilbert, having lighted his +pipe, went back to his writing. "Well, what do you know about that!" +exclaimed Uncle Henry, his face aglow. + +"About what, Uncle?" + +"Why, Ezry Pringle's dead." + +"Who's Ezry Pringle?" Gilbert asked, feigning an interest he did not feel. + +"A friend o' mine. Only seventy years old, too. He was right in the prime +of life." + +Gilbert smiled. "What's that paper you're reading?" + +"The _Bangor Daily Commercial_, printed at Bangor, Maine. An' that's the +only decent town in the whole gol darn world. Wisht I was there now!" He +glanced at the alcove that led to another room, as if conscious that Morgan +Pell might have heard him. He wanted to say something more to Gilbert, but +something told him he had better keep silent. Instead, he read an item from +the paper aloud to him. "Listen to this, Gilbert," he said: "'The Elite +Fish Market has just received five barrels of soft clams from Eastport. Get +there early, feller citizens! They won't last long.' Think o' that, +Gilbert? Clams!" He smacked his lips, and even forgot how warm it was. +"Clams! An' I ain't even seen one in five long years! Not even a clam!" He +turned his chair suddenly, and looked out of the open door, where the +country meandered away. "This is a hell of a hole! Why did we ever come +down here?" he whined. He swung about again, and faced his nephew. "Say, +Gil, do they have clams in France?" + +"No; only mussels. Good ones, too." + +Uncle Henry looked amazed. "They eat mussels?" he cried. + +Gilbert looked up, smiled, and nodded. + +"An' I hear they eat frogs, an' hosses, an' cheese with worms in it, too. +Say," the old man wanted to know, "what don't they eat over there?... An' +speakin' of eatin', ain't we never goin' to have no dinner?" + +"I think it'll be ready soon, Uncle. Do be patient. I want to write." + +Uncle Henry settled back in his chair, and for a brief interval became +absorbed in his newspaper. But not for long could he remain silent. +"Where's that Mr. Pell?" he asked. + +"Inside, I think, lying down," Gilbert replied, nodding toward the alcove, +his pen rushing across the page. + +Uncle Henry made a grimace. "He makes me sick, that feller." + +"Oh, cut that out, Uncle," Gilbert implored; but there was a little note of +irritation in his voice. "That's no way to talk of a guest under our roof." + +"I won't neither cut nothin' out! An' you make me sick too, you gol darn +fool!" + +"For the love of Mike, quit your babbling! Sssh!" + +"Don't you shush me, gol darn it!" cried Uncle Henry, crumpling the +newspaper in his hand and throwing it on the floor. The heat was affecting +him. "I've kep' still long enough, an'--" + +"Oh, have you?" Gilbert smiled. + +"--an' I'm goin' to find out what's what!" Uncle Henry went on, as though +he had not been interrupted. + +"You act as though I were to blame for what's happened," his nephew said. +He saw it would do no good to lose his temper. + +"Well, ain't you? Why did you want to go to war in the first place? Why, +why?" He pounded the arm of his chair. "That's what started it." + +"Well, somebody had to go," Gilbert answered, smiling. "If some of us +hadn't taken things in our hands, I don't know what would have become of +Democracy!" + +Uncle Henry pondered a moment. "Mebbe so. But you didn't have to go." +Gilbert had risen to get a match, and his uncle's eye followed him to the +mantel-piece. He spoke to the back of his head. "You could have claimed +exemption if you'd wanted to, an' you know it." + +"Exemption?" Gilbert repeated the word, a little angry at its utterance. +This wasn't like Uncle Henry who, with all his peculiarities, had always +been a patriot. + +"Absolutely! You were the sole support of an invalid uncle." He waited for +the truth of this remark to sink in; but Gilbert said nothing. "And on top +of that," Uncle Henry went on, rapidly, when his nephew did not speak, +"you were engaged in an essential industry--if you can call these rotten +steaks you feed us on essential. The bones is softer than the meat." He +gave a curious little laugh, thin and high. + +Gilbert went back to the table, leaned over, and put one hand +affectionately on the old man's shoulder. "Now, Uncle," he said, kindly, +"what's the use of going over all this again? You know how I dislike it." +He sat down and began to write again. But Uncle Henry had not finished--he +had just started. + +"What's the _use_?" he wheezed. "There's lots of use. Here you go an' +persuade me to sell the old home and buy this rotten ranch 'way down here +in this God-forsaken country. An' just when I, like a darned old fool, take +an' do it, along comes the war an' you enlist and leave me here with +nothin' but a lot of rotten cows!" + +"But I left the foreman and the cook," Gilbert reminded him. + +A look of scorn came over Uncle Henry's face, "Yes, 'Red' Giddings--playin' +the harmonicky until I go almost crazy! An' a Mexican cook that can't cook +nothin' but firecrackers! An' not even them when you want 'em!" He waited +for this crowning touch to sink in. Infuriated by Gilbert's indifference, +he swung around again in his chair. "Say, ain't we _never_ goin' to have no +dinner? I'm hungry!" + +"I'm sorry," was all Gilbert said. + +Uncle Henry almost resorted to tears--they were in his voice, at any rate. +"First you rob me an' then you starve me!" he all but screamed. "An' the +best you got to say is you're sorry!" + +Jones never looked up, as he continued to write. "I did the best I could, +Uncle. You know that, of course." + +A remark like that always exasperates the hearer. "If that's yer best, I'd +hate to see what yer worst is like," the other flamed. "An' now we're +broke, an' they're goin' to foreclose to-day!" he added. "By golly, mebbe +they've foreclosed already!" + +"No, not till eight o'clock," Gilbert's passionless manner was maddening. + +"Eight o'clock to-night?" his uncle cried, and leaned so far out of his +chair that he was in danger of falling to the floor. + +"Yes," Gilbert said, calmly. + +"You're crazy! Don't you know yet that courts don't stay open at night?" He +swung about in his frenzy and disgust. + +"This court does. Somebody told the judge where he could get a bottle of +liquor for eighteen dollars," Gilbert added, and smiled. + +"So if we don't get ten thousand dollars there by eight o'clock to-night, +we're set out on the bricks without no more home than a prairie dog--not as +much!" almost screamed Uncle Henry. "An' yet you say why talk about it?" + +"But it isn't getting us anywhere--just to sit around and complain," his +nephew tried to pacify him, rising, and starting toward him again; but +Uncle Henry didn't want to be so near him, knowing what he was going to say +next. Therefore he switched adroitly to the door, and let out, "No, it +ain't gettin' us anywhere; but it would if you'd marry Angela Hardy, like I +want you to!" He was a little frightened now that he had uttered the words, +and he looked anxiously at Gilbert to see their effect. The latter remained +as calm as ever. "But I don't love her," was all he said. + +Uncle Henry was exasperated now. "What's that got to do with it?" he +yelled. "Her father's rich, an' not even he, mean as he is, would foreclose +on his own son-in-law. Mebbe he'd even lend you somethin' besides," he +added, slyly. He had great faith in these neighbors down the valley. + +"I can't do it," Gilbert stated, as if he were discussing going to the +nearest town. + +"Won't, you mean." + +"No. I mean can't--just what I said. It wouldn't be fair to her. I can't +pretend to love her when I don't." + +"You don't have to," his uncle urged. "She's so crazy about you, she'd +marry you anyway." Triumphant knowledge was in his tone. + +"What makes you think so?" Gilbert asked, coming close to the old man. + +"She told me she would." He got it out bravely. + +Young Jones was nearly bowled over. "She told you!" he repeated; and as he +said it, passion for the first time came into his voice. There was the +sound of hoof beats down the road. But neither of them paid any attention. + +"Absolutely," the old man affirmed. + +"Absolutely?" + +"Absogoshdarnlutely!" Uncle Henry relieved the tension by saying. + +Gilbert came over and peered into his uncle's face. "You don't mean you +spoke to her about it?" he said. + +"Why not?" rather impudently. "Somebody had to do it." And he chuckled. "I +know what would become of Hypocricy if a few of you youngsters would be as +brave as us old boys!" + +"Good Lord!" was all young Jones could say, and he put his hand to his +head. + +"John Alden spoke for Miles Standish, an' they wasn't even related," Uncle +Henry tried to placate the other. + +The horse on the road, unknown to the men, had reached the adobe. Lucia +Pell, radiant as a prairie flower, appeared at the door. She wore a +riding-habit that fit her to perfection, and her hair, tumbled a bit by the +soft breeze, fell around her face in a cascade of golden loveliness. Her +eyes sparkled. She was the picture of glorious health and youth--a woman +born for love and loving. She brought fragrance into the room. + +"Hello, Gil!" she said, beating her riding-crop on her boot, and smiling +that entrancing smile of hers. She was glad to see her handsome host again +after her brisk ride. + +"Good morning, Lucia," Gilbert said, hardly daring to look at her. + +Uncle Henry didn't mean to be overlooked. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Pell," he +said, meaningly. + +"Why, it _is_ afternoon, isn't it?" she laughed. + +"It's darn near night," Uncle Henry rasped. + +"And I'm simply famished. Who wouldn't be, after such a glorious ride!" +Lucia said. + +"The cook's getting dinner now. Have a good canter, you say?" young Jones +inquired. + +"I missed you," Lucia answered, unashamed. + +Uncle Henry looked disgusted. + +"I'm sorry, I had a lot of things to attend to. I'm glad you're back, for I +was beginning to be worried about you, Lucia. Bandits! They're around +again." + +Lucia didn't take him seriously. She hardly remembered that they were so +close to the border of Mexico. "Bandits?" she scoffed. "Oh, but they just +steal cows and things, don't they?" + +"Worse than that." Gilbert was serious, and gave her an appraising glance. +"Human life means little in Mexico. They even kill their prisoners in cold +blood." + +But still Lucia was not alarmed. "If that's true," she smiled, "I won't go +without you, if you wish it that way." She looked knowingly at him. + +"It isn't what I wish," Jones answered. "Nothing is what I wish." + +"Well," Uncle Henry put in, "you're going to get your wish all right." As +he spoke, Morgan Pell came through the alcove from his room, and the old +invalid steered his chair so that he faced him. Pell looked anything but +engaging to-day. There was something about him that repelled--people could +never say what it was; but one sensed a latent cruelty in the man. His eyes +were shifty, and there were little lines about his mouth that spoke of his +days of dissipation. It was hard to associate him with the flower-like +Lucia. Here were a man and woman never meant for each other--that was +evident immediately; yet he had that old power that seemed to hypnotize +her. And she was not the only woman who had fallen beneath his spell. But +now, apparently, he did not see her. + +"Good afternoon, Mr. Pell," said old Smith to the newcomer. + +"How are you?" the latter answered, with no show of interest. + +"Have a good nap?" Gilbert inquired; but he really didn't care at all. +Pell, however, took his question seriously. + +"Couldn't sleep a wink," he said. "This cursed heat, you know. Glad I don't +have to live in this part of the world all the time." + +Uncle Henry leaned forward in his chair, and his eyes followed Pell +expectantly as the latter moved across the low room, a small satchel in +his hands. "You ain't leaving, are you?" he asked. + +"No," was the laconic reply. + +"I was afraid you wasn't," ventured Uncle Henry; and there was an awkward +pause. Then, "It's pretty hot," the invalid remarked, delighted that no one +had called him to account for his obvious insult. He knew he had all the +advantage of a weak woman. His little throne was immune from attack. + +"It's always pretty hot till night--then it's pretty cold," Pell said. + +"What've you got that bag for?" Uncle Henry pursued. No one was ever more +frankly curious than Uncle Henry. + +"Company, my dear sir," Pell quickly retorted, not a little annoyed at the +question; and he glared at the old man. He had had two days of him, and was +getting used to him. Lucia, who had remained silent by the door, saw the +cloud on her husband's face, and gave a little, startled "Oh!" It was +hardly more than a whisper, but Pell was swift to catch it. He turned on +her, and took in her radiant figure. + +"So there you are!" he half sneered. "Been riding?" + +"Yes; just a little canter." + +"Alone?" Pell followed up. + +"Yes; why?" + +"Oh, nothing--nothing at all." There was a nasal tone in his voice +always--a twang that grated on sensitive ears. He turned on Gilbert. "How +about dinner?" he asked, almost as though the young fellow were a hotel +clerk. + +"It isn't ready yet," Jones answered. He disliked the other's tone. After +all, he was a guest in his, Gilbert's, house. He hoped their wretched +business would soon be settled, and Pell return to New York. He had had his +fill of him. + +Pell, seemingly oblivious of the bad impression he had made, started toward +the door. He had not put the bag down. "Well, call me when dinner _is_ +ready, will you? I won't be far away." + +"Where are you going?" Lucia ventured. + +"Out," was Pell's curt reply; and he almost knocked Uncle Henry's chair +aside as he hurried into the yard. + +There was an awkward silence at his departure. Everyone felt a little +ashamed for him; but Gilbert was determined that Lucia should not read his +thoughts. So he said, nonchalantly, "Well, Lucia, how did the pony +behave?" just as though Pell had never been in the room. + +"Splendidly!" the young wife replied, glad that the atmosphere was cleared +once more. "Oh, Gil, it's wonderful here--nothing but sky and the golden +desert! What a miracle place!" + +"You like it here?" Jones asked, knowing that she did. She had told him so +every hour of her visit. + +Lucia gave him a rapt look. "Like it, Gil? Um! I love it!" She clasped her +hands to her breast; and Jones thought she had never looked lovelier, more +desirable. How pink her cheeks were! Yet underneath her beauty there was a +wistful sadness. Anyone could see that she was not happy. + +"You really love it?" Uncle Henry asked, as though he could not believe he +had heard what she said. + +Lucia had forgotten his presence for a moment. Now she turned to him and +smiled. "Of course. Don't you?" + +"It makes me sick!" was the unexpected reply. + +Lucia was horrified; and she looked from Smith to Gilbert in utter +confusion. "Why, it's beautiful!" she exclaimed. + +"Beautiful!" Uncle Henry went on, repeating the word in derision. "What's +beautiful about it? That's what I'd like to know." + +"The desert," Lucia answered. + +"A lot of gol darn sand!" the invalid whined. + +"The sky, then!" Lucia affirmed. + +But Uncle Henry merely repeated "The sky!" in whole-hearted disgust. + +Lucia refused to be downed. "But think of the glorious colors--blue and +gold and purple!" + +"And no grass nor nothin'," the invalid retorted. "Not even a place to go +fishin'. And you call it beau--Say, was you ever in Bangor?" + +Gilbert roared with laughter; but Lucia took the old boy seriously. +"Bangor?" she repeated, wonderingly. + +"Yes. Bangor, Maine. Now there's a place as is beau--Take the town hall, +for instance. And the Soldiers' Monument. And the cemetery. They got the +swellest cemetery in Bangor you ever--." Gilbert was almost doubling up +with laughter; but Uncle Henry went right on: "As for this gol darn place, +I wish it was in--An' it wouldn't have fur to go, neither!" he added, +emphatically, smiling at his own humor. "I wisht I was back in Maine! +There's where I was always so happy!" + +By this time Lucia was smiling too. She went over and shook her finger +gently in the invalid's face. "You're cross just because you're hungry!" + +"I ain't neither!" Smith replied, like a little boy. + +"Yes, you are!" Lucia kept on. + +"I ain't!" + +"Uh, uh!" she teased him, as though she were playing with a baby. + +Smith grew peevish. "Gol darn it, I tell you I ain't!" And he gave his +chair a rapid twirl. + +"Boo!" came from Lucia softly. She laughed, and ran up the tiny stone +stairs that led to her room. + +"Boo, yourself!" called out Uncle Henry, determined to have the last word, +as Lucia disappeared. Then he turned querulously on his nephew, as soon as +he was certain she was out of hearing. "Why did you ever invite 'em to stay +here in the first place?" he wanted to know. The sound of "Red's" harmonica +was heard outside. + +"Because there was no decent hotel anywhere near. I couldn't do less than +offer them what little hospitality I had, could I, when Sturgis suggested +it?" + +But his uncle didn't agree with him at all. "You could have done a whole +lot less," he decided. "You could have invited 'em to keep on going. Comin' +here at a time like this, and not only eatin' us out of house and home, but +drinkin' up the last bottle of liquor in the world!" This seemed to him the +culminating tragedy. When his nephew said nothing at all, he asked, +petulantly, "Well, what are you going to do? That's what I want to know." + +"What can I do?" + +"Do you mean to say you're going to set here and get throwed out into the +street and not even try to do something?" + +Gilbert merely shrugged his shoulders. + +"Well, of all the--" his Uncle Henry went on. "It's a darn good thing for +you that I'm an invalid! That's all I got to say!" He wheeled about, and +aimed at the door that led to the open air. At that instant "Red" Giddings, +the husky young foreman, appeared directly in his path, his shock of fiery +hair like an aureole about his head. "Git out o' my way!" Uncle Henry +yelled. "Gol darn the gol darn luck, anyhow!" + +And through years of practice he shot into the yard as straight as an +arrow. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +WHEREIN "RED" REVEALS HIS HEART, AND MRS. QUINN GIVES HIM GOOD COFFEE AND +GOOD ADVICE + + +"Red" Giddings had been on the ranch with Gilbert since the very beginning. +He came from the North with the young man, willing to stake all on this one +venture. Like young Jones, he was not afraid. He was an efficient, +well-set-up young fellow, with three consuming passions: Arizona, his +harmonica, and Angela Hardy. The first saw a lot of "Red"; the second +touched his lips frequently; but as for Angela--well, perhaps the poor boy +kissed his harmonica so often in order to forget her lips. But if his own +music charmed "Red," it failed to have that effect upon +others--particularly Uncle Henry, who went into a rage whenever he heard +the detested instrument. "Red's" music had no charms to soothe the savage +breast of Henry Smith. + +But another did like it. Angela once told "Red" in the moonlight--and her +father had never forgiven her for her foolishness--that his harmonica never +wearied her. That was enough for "Red." Once every day he managed to find +some excuse to get over to the Hardy ranch; and always his beloved +instrument went along with him in his pocket, and he would approach his +lady love's castle like the troubadours of old, his foot tapping on the +path while his harmonica, in the place of a lute, made soft sounds. +Instantly Angela would poke her pretty head from the window, and pretend +that she was a princess in distress, and he her knight who had come to +release her from her prison. + +Moreover, the Hardys had a wonderful cook--a woman they had brought down +from Phoenix. Instead of the firecracker stuff that Uncle Henry so +bitterly complained of, she, being an Irish woman, could concoct a stew +that would make one's hair curl; and her pastry was succulent and sweet, +and literally melted in the mouth. Her coffee--ah! who could make better +coffee? And as the meals at the Jones ranch were served sporadically, and +"Red" was as healthy as a peasant and had never known the time when he +couldn't tuck away some dainty from the kitchen he ingratiated himself +with Mrs. Quinn, quite won her heart, too, with his music, and was even +known to desert his work for the boon of a bit of pie. + +When she was suffering from the heat of the stove, and was ready to throw +up her job and return to the bright lights of Phoenix, "Red" invariably +came around to the door with music on his lips, his shock of hair blown by +the soft wind, looking so boyish that she had to succumb to him, boil +another pot of coffee, and lay a place for him at the corner of the table. + +"Be off wid yez!" she always began by saying. But the insinuating harmonica +was his only reply; and she ended by begging him to come in and play for +her while she messed with the pots and pans, and maybe found some batter +for a plate of griddle cakes. + +On this particular morning, work being useless since things were going so +badly for Jones, "Red" slipped up the road and reached the kitchen door +just as Mrs. Quinn was washing up. + +"Oh, so there ye be, me boy!" was her motherly greeting. "Come in, an' +maybe--who knows?--I'll find a cup o' coffee fer ye, though I'm not +thinkin' ye deserve it." + +"Red" loved the odors from this fragrant kitchen. The stove always +gleamed, and when Mrs. Quinn was in good humor she was like a great light +moving here and there, dispensing warmth also. She was a monstrous woman; +but like many large people, she got about easily and swiftly. Her capable +hands were forever fluttering in the flour-barrel or over the dough-board, +and her ruddy cheeks and honest gray eyes spoke of health and good nature. +She adored Angela; and she really liked "Red" tremendously, and hoped in +the end he would win the difficult and fickle girl. But, like Angela, she +had moment when she could have shaken him. For "Red" didn't fight hard +enough for what he wanted. He was naïve to the point of stupidity at times; +and women like aggressive men--even men who are capable of flogging them +into submission, deny it as they will. "Red" was gentle and mild, though +thoroughly manly. Both Angela and Mrs. Quinn would have liked to see him +live up to his fiery hair. + +He beamed now at the genial cook's greeting, and took out his harmonica, +running over the full scale as a suitable answer. + +"Here, sit ye down, 'Red,'" Mrs. Quinn ordered. "But first see that yer +feet is wiped off. I don't want to see no dirt along me clean floor." + +She was busy with a place for him near the window, happy, as most women +are, to serve a handsome young chap, and secretly wishing in her heart that +she had him for a son. + +The coffee was miraculously brought, and soon the griddle-cakes, gloriously +brown, and deftly turned by Mrs. Quinn, were in front of him. + +"Gee! you make a feller happy, Mrs. Quinn!" said the appreciative "Red," +sitting down, and getting busy, "Won't you come to Bisbee with Angela an' +me the next time we go to the movies?" + +She gave him a half-scornful look. "An' what would yez want with an old +woman like meself taggin' along with yez now?" Mrs. Quinn exclaimed, her +arms akimbo. "Ain't ye happy enough with yer Angela, an' no fat funeral +like me occupyin' too much room in the Ford? Go along, me lad, an' have a +good time with yer colleen! She'd like it better alone with ye, too--be +sure o' that!" + +"Of course I would!" + +They hadn't seen Angela come in. She stood in the doorway like a vision--a +morning-glory from which the freshness of the early hours never seemed to +depart. + +"Oh!" poor "Red" gasped, and leaped to his feet. "Would you, Angela?" He +looked at her, drank her beauty in, as though she were the only creature on +this earth. + +"Certainly!" said Angela, coming over to him. "You're a boob, 'Red,' and if +you don't look out, there's a fellow over at Bisbee who--" + +"Oh!" the anguished "Red" managed to get out. "_Is_ there, Angy?" + +There was--of course there was--and there wasn't. Angela knew just how far +to go. Her black eyes danced. "Red" sat down again, after she had shoved +him back to his late breakfast. Mrs. Quinn, amused, was busy with some more +cakes, though "Red" had scarcely had time to begin the first batch. But she +knew his capacity, and she felt he would need sustaining food after +Angela's last remark. + +"You don't always wave to me like you did the other day when I went by," +said "Red," his lips in Mrs. Quinn's golden coffee. + +"Why should I?" said Angela. "You don't always have such swell-looking +folks with you!" + +"Oh, so that's why you waved!" disappointment in his tone. + +"Maybe." She was teasing him, but he didn't know it. "Who were they?" + +"A Mr. and Mrs. Pell, from New York. They're lookin' over property round +here.... But I don't care, Angy. Even if I had to go to Bisbee four times a +day and get some good-lookin' folks to bring down the road, I'd do it if +you'd wave to me! Oh, why can't you always be nice to me?" + +"If I was always nice to you, you wouldn't know how lucky you are!" she +countered. "It's good for you to have your bad days--with me." + +"Well, maybe you're right. You're 'most always right; but gosh! a feller +does like a little encouragement once in a while. You can be so cruel, +Angy!" + +"Can I? If you think not waving to you is cruelty, you ought to see some of +my other forms of torture." + +"Ugh! I hope I never do!" He drank again from the cup. + +"Say," Angela said, watching him, "you seem to like that coffee a lot more +than you like me! That brunette in the cup is my rival!" + +He looked at her in blank amazement. He hadn't much sense of humor. He was +as literal-minded as a child. "You certainly are the funniest girl, Angy!" +he said, "How could coffee be a girl's rival?" + +"Easier than a fellow in Bisbee--maybe. Better look out, 'Red,' or I'll sue +Mrs. Quinn for alienation of affections!" + +"Oh, you wouldn't do that!" said the kindly, honest "Red." + +"What a stupid you are, to be sure!" said Angela, and laughed. "There--eat +these hot cakes--though how you can on this beastly warm morning is more +than I can see--and then play me some tunes. I'm dying to hear some music. +This afternoon Dad says he's going over to your ranch. I don't know what +for, do you? I do wish people didn't have to lose their property. Why are +mortgages, anyhow?" + +"Blamed if _I_ know, Angy! Thanks, Mrs. Quinn." + +"Sure, an' you're welcome, me boy." Angela had gone out on the step. The +old Irishwoman saw her chance. "For the love o' Mike, 'Red,' woo her, an' +woo her hard! There _is_ a feller in Bisbee. She's after lovin' ye, but +you're too slow--slower'n the molasses I just poured on yer griddle-cakes +fer ye!" + +"I'll try," said the accommodating "Red." "You're a good friend, Mrs. +Quinn. I won't forget you when I own this place!" + +"Be off, now! Ye've got some travelin' to do before ye're able to win +Angela. Then ye can think of buyin' a ranch." + +She literally pushed him from her domain; and he found himself by Angela's +side out of doors. + +The bright sunlight touched her hair, and they went over to a pergola she +had had built, covered with vines. A little fountain tinkled near it, and +the heat of the day would not bother them here. + +For three delirious hours, "Red" was alone with Angela. One moment she +pouted, the next she let him touch her hand. + +"You may be going away soon, 'Red.' Will you write to me if you do?" + +"Will I?" he cried, "Every day--a postal-card at least. I ain't much at +letters.... But I'm not so sure I'm goin', Angy. Something tells me that +even if your father does hold the mortgage, it won't be foreclosed. Gil +Jones has worked too hard...." + +"Dad's awfully hard about holding to a bargain," Angela reminded him. "He's +all business. He wasn't that way until after Ma died. I do wish he'd be +more human. I've talked to him and talked to him, until I'm tired; but he's +getting harder all the time. This is the last day, isn't it?" + +"Yes. Jones is awful blue. That's one reason I ought to get back. Maybe he +needs some cheerin' up. God knows his Uncle Henry don't give him much." + +The sun was now high in the heavens. It was almost noon. "Red" said he +would walk. No trouble at all; and what did he care how hot it was? He was +used to it. But how he did hate to leave his Angela! + +He played his harmonica most of the way home, and he was still running his +lips along the instrument when he entered the adobe door, just as Uncle +Henry wheeled out of it. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +WHEREIN GILBERT JONES IS WORRIED, AND LUCIA PELL IS ASKED TO DO AN +IMPOSSIBLE THING + + +Poor "Red" couldn't have encountered the invalid at a less propitious +moment; for he was almost knocked down by that crabbed gentleman. + +"Certainly wheels a mean chair," he said good-naturedly to Gilbert, as he +watched Uncle Henry steer himself out to the gate. "Got his cut-out open, +too! Pesky to-day, ain't he? That's one reason I came back." He spread his +legs apart, and fanned himself with his hat. He ran his fingers through his +thick, violent crop of hair. "A mean Arizona day!" he said. "The walk made +me hot." + +"I should think it would," Jones replied. + +"No grub yet?" "Red" ventured. He was hungry even yet. Twenty-two is always +hungry. + +"No," said his employer. + +"Should have been ready two hours ago. What's the matter? Wish we had Mrs. +Quinn over here." + +"I don't know what's the matter. I haven't thought much about eating." He +was engrossed again in his papers. + +But "Red" didn't intend to let the matter drop. "You're too easy on that +cook," he said. "Now, if you had a Mrs. Quinn--" He had pulled out a worn +tobacco-bag, which was discouragingly flat. He had smoked a lot this +morning. + +Gilbert was swift to notice the empty pouch, and offered him his. + +"Thanks; much obliged," "Red" said, filling his pipe. "But darn that cook, +anyhow! If he wasn't leavin', I'd fire him! As if you didn't have enough +troubles, without havin' to bother about late meals--an' guests in the +house." + +But a puff or two on his pipe soothed him, "Red's" bark was always worse +than his bite. He was the best-natured chap in the world, and he idolized +Gilbert Jones. There was a big packing-case in the middle of the room, and +he sat on it, tailor-fashion, as happy as a husky, normal young man can be. + +He looked longingly at the unset table; but his thoughts were more of +Angela Hardy than of the good meal to come. + +"'Red,'" said Gilbert after a brief silence, "I was hoping to be able to +pay you off to-day." + +"Pay me off?" That would have been heaven! He could have taken Angela to +the movies at Bisbee. + +"Yes." + +"Oh, forget it! You don't owe me nothin'!" + +"Only a mere trifle of six months' wages," Gilbert laughed. + +"Red" had put his head in one hand, and leaned back on the case, at peace +with the world. His left foot beat a little tattoo on the side of the box. +Now he sat up straight and looked sharply at Jones. + +"What's the use of talking about this?" he wanted to know. "You ain't got +it, have you?" + +Gilbert paused the fraction of a second. "No," he had to admit, "But that +doesn't alter the fact that I owe you money." He went over and stood close +to his foreman. + +"You're wrong," the younger man said. "It was my own proposition that I +come here with you and work, an' you know it. Now what you got to say?" + +Gilbert put his arm around "Red's" big shoulder, and playfully pushed him +off the box. "You're just a big kid, aren't you, 'Red'?" + +"I don't know what I am. But I do know I was only too glad to take the +gamble with you. An' I'll take another one right now if you've got one to +suggest." + +Gilbert pushed the case over on its side. It was empty. There were some +Navajo blankets on a little stand by the window. These he now fetched over +to the case, first placing them carefully on the floor, spread out in all +their rainbow beauty. Their bright patterns glorified the room, as if a +lamp had been lighted. He said nothing. "Red" wondered what he was doing +with these splendid blankets. He had never seen anything like them on the +ranch, though there were others on the walls. + +"I'd like to remark," "Red" went on, "that if we ever gets into the cow +business again, we ought to get us a nice ranch in Washington, D.C. It +don't pay American citizens to go too fur away from home, these days." + +Gilbert laughed. Then, "Oh!" he ejaculated, as though remembering +something. + +"What's the matter?" "Red" asked. + +"Haven't you heard? Lopez has broken off the reservation again." + +"Lopez!" exclaimed "Red," forgetting his pipe, his dinner, and even Angela +for the moment. "The devil he has!" + +"Uh--uh! Raided the Diamond Dot last night." + +"He won't bother us," "Red" smiled, settling back again. "Nothin' to steal +here except the mortgage." He paused, as though in deep thought; but +Gilbert, had he known it, was thinking even harder. Lopez, the Mexican +bandit, was a dim uncertainty; the mortgage was a stern reality. + +"You'll want to be drivin' over to the station later?" "Red" went on, +coming to the table, and taking off his spurs. + +"Yes," Gilbert answered. He had folded all the blankets neatly, rose, and +went over to the window-box to get some strong cord. + +"In the gallopin' wash-boiler?" "Red" smiled, "_That_ still belongs to +us--I mean, you." He clinked his spurs on the table. + +"Us is right, 'Red.' You said you'd been a partner. You have. Some day I'm +going to tell you how grateful I am." In his preoccupation, he forgot to +tie up the blankets; and, one hand on "Red's" shoulder, he let the cord +fall on the table. + +"Aw, that's all right," "Red" said. He didn't like to be thanked, and he +avoided even the shadow of sentimentality with Jones. After all, they were +two young fellows, playing a big game together, taking big chances; and +what was the use of talking about it? "What are you going to tell the +Pells?" he suddenly asked, glad to get off the immediate subject. + +"Pells?" + +"Say, I'm goin' to poke that bird in the beak some day!" "Red" declared. + +Jones smiled. "What's he done to you?" + +"Nothin'. He'd better not. It's the way he treats his wife. She's so darn +game, too. I wouldn't treat a horse the way he treats her. Well, what are +you goin' to tell them?" + +Gilbert stood perfectly still. He was in deep thought. Finally he spoke. + +"I'm going to tell them I'm going away--important business." + +"East?" "Red" asked. He had seated himself at the table, and picked up +Gilbert's pen, and began making curious little scrawls with it on a piece +of paper, as a business man sometimes does when he is telephoning. + +"No. West," answered Jones. "They're going East." + +"What are you going to do?" "Red" was amused rather than alarmed. + +"Oh, I'll get a job somewhere. Punch cows--or maybe join the rangers. +There's always something a fellow can do." + +"An' what about your uncle?" + +"I'll put him up in Bisbee till I get a chance to ship him back to Bangor. +He likes Bangor, you know!" Gilbert smiled. + +"He takes it sort o' hard, don't he?" + +"Well, you can't blame the old boy. You see, I got him to sell out +everything--everything, and invest in this ranch. Maybe it wasn't the right +thing to do; but I thought I was certain to succeed. I meant all for the +best, 'Red.' You know that." Who could doubt those gray eyes of Gilbert +Jones, that open, frank, boyish face? + +"Of course I do." He got up, and walked over to the window. "Your uncle +don't like jokin' much, does he? I asked him the other day why he didn't +get a chauffeur. Gosh! he got mad!" "Red" laughed at the recollection. + +"Uncle Henry's in no joking mood just now. You can't blame him much." + +"Red" turned and looked at his employer. He didn't know whether he should +ask the next question or not; but he took his courage in his hands. + +"He--he wants you to--to marry Angela Hardy, don't he?" + +Gilbert looked surprised. "Hardy's daughter?" + +"Red" nodded. + +"How did you know?" Jones asked. + +"Because he ain't talked of nothin' else for six months. You wasn't +thinkin' of doin' it, was you?" He hung on Gilbert's answer. + +"Hardly!" with a smile. + +The relief of "Red"! + +"I know, I know!" he cried. "But once she gets her mind set on a thing--" + +"You mean you think she wants to marry me? Is that it?" Gilbert asked, not +taking the matter very seriously. He was busy at the box again, pulling the +top farther back. + +"Well, I don't know as I'd say that," "Red" offered; "but I think she +thinks she wants to." He was sitting on the edge of the table, swinging one +leg. "She's prone to fancies, Angela is. Even I gotter admit that!" + +"_Even_ you?" Gilbert inquired, puzzled. + +The question made "Red" a bit nervous. He jumped to the floor, and then sat +down in the chair beside the table, pretending to be very much at ease. +"Like that traveling man from Saint Looey," he explained. "She thought she +cared for him. I tried to tell her different. I had to run him out of town +with a gun to prove it. But even then she didn't believe it until that New +York surveyor come along." + +Gilbert looked up, "And she thought she loved him?" + +"Until she met up with that hoss doctor from Albuquerque! An' now there's a +new feller in Bisbee!" + +Jones was a trifle mystified, "Say, how do you happen to know so much about +her affairs, 'Red'?" + +How involved he had become! He blushed like a schoolboy; got up, took his +pipe out of his mouth and emptied it in the fireplace. "Me?" he said. "Oh, +I've knowed her a long time." + +Jones was beginning to see the truth, to read the heart of this young +rascal. So it was over at the Hardy's that he spent so many hours! + +"Oh, so that's it, is it? What's the matter? Does her father object?" + +"Oh, no!" "Red" was quick to deny. "I stand all right with him. He's knowed +me a long time. It's her." + +Gilbert laughed outright; and "Red," humanly embarrassed now that his +secret was out, paced the room, his hands behind his back, digging his heel +every now and then in the floor. "Aw--" he began. + +"Listen, 'Red,'" said Jones, in sympathy with the lad, and hoping to cover +up his confusion. "If Hardy comes, keep him out till I'm alone. I don't +want any war talk before the Pells." + +"I get yer," said "Red," visibly relieved. + +"Any stronger cord on the place anywhere?" Gilbert looked around the room. +Maybe one of the many Indian jugs contained a string. "Red" and he had a +habit of putting any old thing in them. + +"There's some down in the hay barn. Want me to get it for you?" "Red" +offered. + +"No; I'll get it, thanks. You see if you can't prod up the cook a little. +I'm hungry now." + +And "Red" ran into the kitchen. No sooner had he left the room, than there +was a rumble, and Uncle Henry burst in on Gilbert, a smile of triumph on +his face. + +"I got it!" he all but yelled. + +"Got what?" his nephew asked. + +"An idea!... Mebbe he'd lend you some." + +"Some what? And who?" + +"Money, of course! That feller Pell, I mean. He's rich, an' if he knowed +that you and his wife was old friends--I betcher he'd lend you some." He +paused, breathless, for he had run his sentences into one. Gilbert glared +at him, as if he thought he had gone stark mad. But Uncle Henry was not +afraid. "You won't ask him?" he inquired. + +"Certainly not. What are you raving about, anyhow? Cut out this sort of +talk, Uncle. You're getting on my nerves." + +The old man simply switched his chair about. He had heard Gilbert in an +angry mood before, and he knew that nothing would follow his little burst +of wrath. "Oh, you make me tired, you young people," he raged. "I'd ask him +if it was me, you can bet I would!" + +"_You_ would," was all that Gilbert replied. Sarcasm was in his voice. + +"First you won't marry Hardy's daughter and now you won't ask him for +money," Uncle Henry pursued the subject. + +Gilbert was genuinely angry now. "Oh, keep quiet! I'm sick of your plans." + +"Yes, but if you ain't goin' to do nothing, I am!" + +His nephew wouldn't trust himself to hear another word. He turned on his +heel and left the old man. + +Uncle Henry was shaking with excitement. He lifted his hand, smote the arm +of his chair, and cried out after the vanishing figure of his nephew, "You +make me sick, you gol darn fool!" He was almost in tears. "Gol darn the gol +darn luck, anyhow!" + +At that moment, Lucia Pell came down the little stairway. She had discarded +her riding-habit, and now looked equally lovely in a simple frock of blue. + +"What's the matter?" she inquired, seeing at once that something was +troubling Uncle Henry. + +"What _ain't_ the matter?" the old fellow screamed, but glad of someone to +whom he could unburden his overflowing heart. "Gol darn it! By gollies! I +got it again!" he cried, seized with another inspiration. He eyed the +radiant Lucia, as a miser might appraise a new gold coin. "Mis' Pell," he +said, twirling his chair so that he caught a better glimpse of her. + +"Yes?" she said, half-way down. + +"You and Gil's old friends, ain't you?" The question was as direct as +anything could be. + +"Yes," was the equally direct answer. + +"Want to do him a good turn?" asked the scheming old man. + +"Of course. What do you mean?" She was at his side now. + +"He's got a chance to make a swell marriage," announced Uncle Henry. + +"What?" There was a curious catch in Lucia's voice. + +"A rich marriage," Uncle Henry went on, almost smacking his lips over the +words. + +Lucia went over to the window, so that she would not face the invalid. + +"Not as rich as yourn, of course," Uncle Henry pursued; "but rich for +him--and he won't do it." He waited for her to say something; but she did +not speak. There was a pause. Lucia looked out at the baking valley, and +off to the far mountains, and the ticking of the clock could be heard like +steady rain in a cistern. Then she went over to the table near the alcove, +where a few books were scattered about. She opened one, and pretended to +read. All the time Uncle Henry's eyes never left her. And she knew he was +searching her thoughts. + +"He won't?" she finally said. + +"No--the gol darn fool!" the old fellow screamed again. + +"Does he--does he love her?" Lucia brought herself to ask. + +Quick as a flash Uncle Henry came back: "Sure he does! It's the only thing +for him to do. He ain't got no right to be livin' alone. All he don't get +skinned out of he gives away. Never gets nothin' to eat. If ever a feller +needed a nice, sensible wife to take care of him, it's Gil. I know. Ain't I +his uncle?" + +"You think she would--make him--a good wife?" Lucia Pell got the words out +somehow, never lifting her eyes from the printed page. + +"The finest in the world!" Uncle Henry affirmed. "Now, looky here, Mis' +Pell: He won't listen to me--funny the way folks are about their relatives. +But I was thinkin' that mebbe if you was to ask him--" + +Lucia was startled. "I?" she said. + +The wheel chair bobbed about. "Yes. You and him bein' old friends that way, +mebbe he'd pay some attention to you. Make him see what a gol darn fool he +is and give him h----. Give it to him good! It's a wonderful chance. He'll +never get another. Darned if I see how he ever got this. But he has. And +what we gotter do is to make him take it." He paused; but she said nothing. +He waited a moment. Then,--"What do you say? Will you?" + +"You--think he should?" + +"I know darn well he should!" + +Lucia closed the book and put it down. She looked straight at Uncle Henry. +"I should think he would see it for himself." + +Uncle Henry showed his disgust--not for her, but for his nephew. "Aw, he's +always been like this. I remember five or six years ago, he told me then he +wouldn't ask no woman to marry him until he got a lot of money. False +pride, I call it. What'd the world come to if everybody felt like that?" + +"You think it's only pride that's keeping him from it?" Her voice was very +low. + +"Well, what else could it be, I'd like to know." + +"Maybe it's because he hasn't a lot of money. He may be honest in that." + +"Well, mebbe you're right. That may be it. What do you say?" + +"All right," Lucia Pell said. But she turned away. + +Uncle Henry was delighted. "That's the idee! Hooray!" Had he been able to +stand, he would have risen and given three rousing cheers. He hadn't been +so happy in years. "We'll put it over yet, by heck!" + +He hadn't seen his nephew come into the room, with a ball of stout twine in +his hands. + +"Put what over?" Gilbert asked. + +Uncle Henry was taken aback, but he quickly covered his confusion. + +"Oh, somethin'. It's a secret." He turned and addressed Lucia Pell. "Don't +forget," he admonished, and swiftly wheeled himself out into the yard +again. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +WHEREIN AN OLD LOVE AWAKENS, PELL REVEALS HIS TRUE COLORS, A MORTGAGE IS +ABOUT TO BE FORECLOSED, THE CONTENTS OF A SATCHEL ARE MADE KNOWN, UNCLE +HENRY SPRINGS A SENSATION, AND PELL TAKES AN OPTION + + +Lucia's eyes were following Uncle Henry's heaving chair; for the yard was +full of little stones, and the invalid bumped along, not always able to +keep on a smooth track. She smiled as she watched him. + +"What was he talking about?" Gilbert asked, kneeling on the floor, and +folding one rug that had slipped away. + +"Oh, nothing," Lucia Pell answered. "You know how old people babble on +sometimes about nothing." She turned and looked at him. Still the same +handsome Gilbert! "What are you doing?" + +"Nothing. You know how young people go on doing nothing. I'm just rolling +up these rugs and blankets. I'm going to send them away." + +Lucia saw the beautiful pattern of one Navajo as Gilbert held it, unfolded, +from the floor. She came over to him. + +"You're sending them away--when they're so exquisite?" she asked. "This +flaming one--" she picked it up and draped it around her. "Why, it's like +the sunset. And you do have such beautiful sunsets here, Gil." + +"I got them up especially, in honor of your visit," Jones said; and then he +remembered how many times a remark like that must have been made, by many a +lover, as if it were quite original, as if no one had ever thought of it +before! + +But Lucia took him seriously, dropped the wonderful blanket and went over +to the door again. "I never grow tired of this view, Gil. It's almost as if +God were an artist and had spilt the colors from His palette. And yet not +that, quite. The colors are more like jewels. The morning's opals; the +noon's pearls; the evening wears rubies in her hair. There's a sort of +beauty that makes one ache. It seems to me sometimes as if I couldn't stand +it--just the way the Grand Canyon got hold of me. Doesn't it affect you +that way--you who have so much poetry in you?" + +"Indeed it does, Lucia. I've often watched that sky until I've forgotten +all about my cattle--both of them!" He laughed, and reached for the twine. +He was always turning their serious moments into a jest. As long as she had +been here with her husband, he kept at a distance. + +Lucia saw his hand go out. "The string?" she said. "I'll get it." She left +the door, and handed him the twine which he had put on the table. + +"Thank you," said Gilbert. "Do you mind putting your finger--there? Never +mind. I think I can do it, after all." + +"Oh, do let me help you," she said. "I'd like to." And she leaned down, +knelt beside him, and held her white forefinger on the cord. + +How it happened, neither of them ever knew. But a sudden electric thrill +ran through their veins. Something hammered in their brains. For a brief +instant, their hearts beat as though the whole world must hear. He had +touched her finger, and, before he was aware of it, he had dared to lean +over and kiss it. Not a word was said--there was no time for words. They +did not need speech to understand. It was the old, but ever new experience +of the ages: two who loved each other had found out in the twinkling of an +eye--and she belonged to another. There was a moment of terrible silence. +Then, + +"I'm sorry," was all Gilbert could get out. + +"But you touched my hand many a time, in the old days," Lucia said. + +"That was different. You're married now. Oh, there is a vast change since +then. I could not--Forgive me, my dear." He turned away his face. He did +not want her to read what was in his eyes. "Shall I send them, or would you +rather take them with you?" he asked, hiding behind that commonplace +question the emotion he felt. His voice held a note of pain. + +Lucia rose. "You mean you want to give these wonderful rugs and blankets to +me?--these priceless things." + +"More than that. I want you to have them--to remind you--sometimes of--" He +broke off, like a frightened lad. + +"As though I should ever need reminding! How dull you men can be! But I +don't want to take them from you, Gil." + +"I'm giving up this ranch," he told her, "I shan't want them any more. +Please take them, for my sake." He made a gesture, as though they were the +last of his poor possessions. + +"I thought you loved it here?" she said. + +"I do--in a way." + +"Then why are you giving it up?" was the natural question. + +He hesitated, not knowing what to answer. "I thought I'd try something else +for awhile. I hate to have to tell you this, Lucia; but the fact is, +I--I've got to leave to-day. I was going to tell you before, only I was +hoping that something might turn up at the last minute, and--well, it +hasn't. That's all." + +There was nothing she could say; and they stood looking at each other in +silence--a silence that was far more eloquent than speech. Gilbert went +over and sat on the case, and Lucia finally said: + +"Then we won't see each other again?" + +He nodded, sorrowfully. Lucia Pell went over to the door and looked out +once more. He watched her, covertly--her every gesture held a new meaning +for him now. The silence continued. At length she turned back and faced +him. He could not stand it, and bent quickly over the rugs and blankets. + +"I don't know what to say, Gil." She moved closer to him. "I've had a +wonderful time--you know that. I want to thank you for it. You've been +awfully kind to us." + +"Having you here is all the thanks I want," he answered. He had everything +snugly packed now. + +"I'm glad we happened to meet again. Though it does seem strange, doesn't +it, that we should run across each other after all these years!" + +He stood up straight. "All these years! You talk as if you were a hundred!" +And he tried to smile. + +"I am--nearly," she laughed. "I'm twenty-four, you know." + +"Really? It doesn't seem possible!" + +"I was eighteen when you went away. And that's nearly six years ago. Time +flies, doesn't it?" She smiled at her bromidic remark, and sat down; but he +did not reply, "Gil," she said at last. He looked up. "Why didn't you come +to see me before I went away?" + +"I don't know. I suppose--" + +"You went away from Maine without my knowing--without even coming to say +good-bye. Was that fair, was that the thing for a man like you to do?" + +How he wished she had not brought up these burning memories! + +"I was broke, and I--" he managed to explain. + +Lucia knew what he must be feeling now. She got up and went over to his +side; she did not dare place her hand in his. Never must there be again +that electric current between them. "But you're all right now, aren't you, +Gil?" + +He seemed abstracted, suddenly lost in another world. "Huh?" he uttered. +Then, as if coming to himself, "Oh, my, yes! I'm doing splendidly now, +Lucia!" + +"I'm so glad, Gil. But you haven't answered my question yet." + +"About my not coming to say good-bye?" + +She nodded. + +"It was pride, I suppose," he went on. + +"Very foolish pride. And life is so short. You hurt me a great deal." + +"I'm sorry. What more can one say? If I--" + +"I thought I had done something to offend you," she said, standing very +still, and looking far beyond him now, as though viewing their whole +unhappy past. "And it's worried me even until this very day. I didn't do +anything to offend you, did I, Gil?" + +"You? You, Lucia?" he cried. "You couldn't do anything to offend me. Surely +you must know that." He said it as a man says such things to the one woman +he loves. + +"It was only pride?" she was anxious to know again. "Because you were poor! +Gil! Did you think so little of me as that?" There was a half-sob in her +voice. + +"I hoped to pick a fortune off a tree somewhere, and come back and surprise +you with it. I was going to buy an automobile--one of those low ones as +long as a Pullman car--and fill it with roses, and come dashing up to your +front door and take you for a ride through the hills. It was to be autumn. +I had even that fixed," he laughed. "Oh, I had everything thought out! And +you were going to be so proud of me!... But I couldn't find a fortune-tree +anywhere...." He looked away, embarrassed. He hadn't meant to tell her +this. + +"Gil!" she cried. + +"I guess they don't grow any more. At least, not in this part of the +country." He rose, a bit wearily, and walked over to the mantel-piece. + +"What did you do, Gil?" she asked, her eyes following him. + +"Well, I was a time-keeper on a railroad and weigh-boss in a coal mine. +After that I punched cows until I got uncle to come here. Then the war +started, and--that's all." + +Then she asked what a woman always asks. + +"Why didn't you ever write to me, Gil?" + +"I was waiting for some good news to tell you. I felt you would consider me +a failure--a rank failure. I couldn't have stood that. Women don't know how +proud men are about that." + +"Maybe we don't--and maybe we do, Gil." She went closer to him. "Why don't +you marry?" she dared to inquire. + +He was startled. "Marry?" he repeated. + +"Yes; you need someone to take care of you--someone to look after your +daily needs--every man does." + +"I guess there's no doubt about that. But it ought to be a guardian in my +case; or maybe a keeper." She could see that he was stalling for time, and +trying to laugh off a topic that was serious indeed to him. + +"We're such old friends, Gil," she said, looking at his handsome face. "I +don't like to go--to think of you always, like this--alone." + +"I still have uncle," he reminded her. + +"Oh, don't joke, Gil! You need a woman--a wife--someone to mother you." + +"All those?" + +Why couldn't he be serious for a moment? She asked him that. + +"I don't dare to, Lucia." His voice was low. + +She was a bit puzzled. "Why?" + +"Because the minute you begin to take life seriously, it takes _you_ that +way, and then--" + +"But don't you see what it would mean to you, dear Gil? To have someone +always here; to kiss you when you go; to greet you when you come back; to +laugh with you when you are glad; and comfort you when things go wrong. To +give you the sympathy, the understanding that a man finds only in a woman's +heart. Don't you see, Gil?" + +"Yes, of course I see," he said, his head bowed a little. + +"Then why don't you, Gil? She'd make you very happy--a woman like that. I +want you to understand." + +"Don't you suppose I do? Don't you suppose I've always understood, ever +since--" + +"Ever since when, Gil? Then you have known such a woman?" + +He moved his head. + +"You have!... And you cared for her?" + +He nodded again. + +"You loved her?" she hurried on. + +His voice was hoarse. "Yes." The monosyllable got out somehow. + +"You still love her. I know it, I can see it. Who is she, Gil? I want to +know." + +"Don't you know?" he asked, and looked her straight in the eyes. + +Before she could answer, there were footsteps outside, and Pell could be +heard whistling. He rushed in now, the bag still clutched in his hand. At +once he sensed something strange in their attitude, and he eyed both of +them shrewdly, covertly, briefly. Not a word was uttered. He threw the bag +on the table, as though he had noticed nothing, and in the most +matter-of-fact tone said, + +"Say, how about dinner?" + +"It isn't ready yet," Gilbert informed him. Lucia took advantage of her +husband's question to move over toward the door. + +"Why, good God, man, it's nearly three o'clock! We're not on a hunger +strike, are we?" And he laughed at his own dull witticism. + +"I'll see about it now," Jones promised. + +"Haven't got a drink, have you, while we're waiting? Not that I need an +appetizer! And it's damned hot, I know, to guzzle whiskey." + +"There's nothing good in the place. But I think the cook has some tequila." + +"Tequila? What's that, Jones?" + +"It's a Mexican drink." + +"Has it got a kick in it?" the other wanted to know. + +"I never heard anybody complain," Gilbert smiled. "After two or three of +'em, I never saw anybody able to complain!" + +He started toward the kitchen. + +"What does it taste like?" said Pell, detaining him. + +"Oh, sort of like gasoline with bichloride of mercury in it," Jones +answered his eager questioner. + +"No wood alcohol?" suspiciously. Pell was always looking out for himself. + +"Oh, it's safe enough, I assure you. Would you like to try some of it?" +Gilbert suggested. + +Pell thought a moment--but only a moment. "I'll try anything once, and +anything to drink more than once--if I'm alive the second time." + +His host smiled. "I'll get you some if there's any left," and went to the +kitchen to see. He couldn't help wondering why a man like Morgan Pell, +with so many responsibilities, should wish to drink tequila. + +Left alone, there was that strange silence between Lucia and her husband +which so often occurred nowadays. A barrier was between them, none the less +real because it was invisible. She knew his moods so well, and she dreaded +the things he might say, all his inhibitions gone, if he drank any of this +deadly Mexican stuff. She would have halted Gilbert had she dared; but she +knew that any such action on her part would have aroused Pell the more, +inflamed him to anger; and, like most women of fine breeding, she dreaded a +scene more than anything in the world. All that she said now was merely, + +"I wish you wouldn't do that." + +"Do what?" Pell asked, jerking out the two words in a high staccato. He +hated to be questioned, particularly by his wife. His hands reached for the +satchel he had brought in. + +"Order a man around in his own house." + +"And why not, I'd like to know?" Pell inquired. "Who's he, anyhow, and what +difference does it make?" + +Lucia remained perfectly calm. "Well, if you can't see, of course--" + +"There's no use your trying to tell me. Is that what you were going to +say?" His face showed his rage. + +She did not answer. That infuriated him all the more. + +"I see what you mean! But I don't agree," Pell pursued. "This Jones person +is nothing in my life. And why I should be deprived of my liquor and forced +to eat burnt beans three times a day, I can't see." He emitted a sound that +might have been designated a laugh. + +"But--while we--" Lucia started to argue, and then thought better of it. + +"Why doesn't he set his liquor out and see that the meals are right, +himself? Then there wouldn't be any need of my saying anything." His tone +was brutally frank. He really disliked Jones, and would be glad when they +could get back to New York. There was nothing here worth his consideration. +Sturgis had been stupid to think so. + +"But when we are enjoying his hospitality--" + +"Enjoying? Ha! Suffering, I guess you mean!" And Pell's head went back and +he gave out a guffaw. + +Lucia waited for his false mirth to vanish. Then, "But you seemed very +anxious to come here." + +"Yes; because I thought he lived in a house, not a--" + +The sentence was not completed; for Gilbert came back with a bottle of the +deadly tequila in his hand. + +"I'm terribly sorry," he apologized, "to have to tell you that dinner will +be late." + +"You mean later, don't you?" Pell edited the remark. + +Gilbert handed him the bottle. "Maybe this will atone for the postponed +banquet," he smiled. He got the water-bottle hanging on the peg by the +fireplace, and brought that to Pell also. He tried to be as gracious as he +could to anyone under his roof. + +Pell took a swig out of the bottle--a long one. "Good God!" he exclaimed, +his face almost purple, his brow puckered like a dwarf's. + +"What's the matter?" Gilbert said. And he handed him the water-bottle. + +"It's poison!" Pell cried. And as if he really believed it, and as though +water were an antidote, he grabbed the water-bottle and drank from it +swiftly and loudly. It was horrible the way he guzzled the liquid down. An +animal would have done better. + +"The Mexicans like their liquor strong," young Jones explained. "That's +what's the matter with the cook." + +Lucia was puzzled. "What do you mean?" she asked. + +"Simply that he's been imbibing again. That's why dinner is so late. But +we're getting used to it. There is nothing to do but stand it." + +"Drunk?" Pell asked. + +"Quite," answered Gilbert. + +"Well, I don't know as you can blame him," Pell excused. "I'd be drunk too +if I had to live here. What are you going to do about it?" He hung the +water-bottle in its place on the peg. + +"Red's trying to sober him up," Gilbert said. + +They had had enough of the cook, Pell decided within himself. Dinner was +inevitably late, and that was all there was about it. So he changed the +subject abruptly. + +"This ranch belongs to you, doesn't it?" he put the question direct to +Jones. + +"What's that?" + +"I asked you," went on Pell, a little disconcerted at having to repeat his +question, "if you own this ranch." + +"I--er--yes. Why?" Gilbert said. + +Pell was quick to notice the other's discomfiture. "I have a friend who +thinks he wants to go into the cattle business. He asked me to look him up +a place. It's his own money, of course." + +"Then I'd advise him not to buy here," said Gilbert, much to Pell's +amazement. + +"Why?" + +"It's too near the border," Jones answered. "The bandits come over and +steal all your cattle. It's a rotten situation. I'm sorry I ever came down +here." + +"That makes it all the better," Pell was shrewd enough to say. "Then he'd +lose his money quick, and be satisfied." And he laughed at what he thought +a witticism. + +Uncle Henry's wheel chair crossed the sill at that moment. His face was +full of news. "Hardy's coming!" he informed those in the room. + +"A man to see me on a matter of business," Gilbert remembered. "Will you +excuse me?" He turned to Pell. + +"But I want to talk to you myself," the latter reminded him. + +But young Jones had gone to the door. "I'm sorry. This is imperative, and I +must see him." He turned definitely as if to go. + +"But I was here first," Morgan Pell argued. He hated to be beaten by this +stripling. + +"I regret that I must insist," Gilbert said. And there was a duel of eyes, +as well as of wits, before Jones turned away, easily the victor. After all, +it was his own house, his own ranch. His visitor was wise enough to realize +that. He walked over to the table and took the tequila bottle up again. +"I'll have another drink, if you don't mind," he said, to Gilbert's back. + +"Drink?" yelled Uncle Henry from his chair, frantic at the thought of any +more of their precious liquor being consumed. It was hard enough to get, +even when one had plenty of money. + +"Help yourself," said Gilbert, not a little ashamed of the protest in Uncle +Henry's voice. + +"While I'm waiting," Pell laughed; and, taking the bottle, he went out. + +Uncle Henry could scarcely control himself. He switched his chair in his +nephew's direction. "Say," he wanted to know, "have you been holding out on +me?" + +"It's only tequila," Gilbert tried to pacify him. + +"I don't care if it's only varnish!" cried Uncle Henry, his voice rising +high and shrill. "And you let him go and take the whole bottle!" He pounded +the arm of his chair, always his last resort. + +Gilbert paid no attention to him. He went over to the table, as though he +hadn't said a word, and began looking for a letter in one of the drawers. +Almost immediately he laid his hand on it, and, turning to Lucia, said: + +"If you'll excuse me?" + +"Certainly. I must go and pack anyway." And she started toward the steps +that led upstairs. + +Gilbert went through the alcove; and no sooner had his broad shoulders +disappeared than Uncle Henry turned to Lucia Pell and cried: + +"Hey! Wait a minute." + +Lucia was astonished. She had one foot on the step, and she turned about to +see if Uncle Henry was actually addressing her. There was, obviously, no +one else to address; but she thought the cook must have come in when her +back was turned. She glared at the invalid, and said nothing. + +"Did you ask him?" Uncle Henry went on, paying not the slightest heed to +her surprised glance. + +"Ask who what?" Lucia asked. She was not a little interested now. She came +back into the room. + +"Ask him about marryin'--you know. I gotter find out because Hardy's +comin'." No speech could have been plainer and balder. "Did you?" + +Lucia was nonplussed at the old man's crude directness. "Yes--I mean no. I +don't remember." + +"Don't remember!" Uncle Henry yelled. "But that's what I left you here for! +We had it all framed up! Why didn't you?" + +Lucia's head drooped a bit. "We were talking about something else." + +The crabbed man was inflamed by this reply. "What was you talkin' about +that was so gol darned important that you forgot the only important thing +there was to talk about?... Well?" he cried, when she said nothing. "By +gollies! I remember now! You was the gal he wouldn't ask to marry him +because he didn't have no money!" He did not notice that his nephew had +come back from the other room just in time to hear this last remark. He +went on relentlessly to Lucia: "And me like a poor boob forgettin' all +about it until now!" He suddenly saw Gilbert, and, not a whit abashed, +turned on him. "So that's why you won't marry Hardy's daughter! I see it +all now! I've been as blind as a hoot-owl!" + +There came the sound of a Ford stopping outside, and footsteps approached +up the path that led to the adobe. + +"It's all right, Lucia," Gilbert said, and she went upstairs, almost +weeping. Then he whirled about and glared at his uncle. "It's a good +thing--no, I don't know what I'm saying. You're an invalid, or I'd strike +you, despite your years, Uncle Henry. For heaven's sake, can't you learn to +mind your own business?" + +"I ain't got any. You robbed me of it!" the old man flamed back. "Now I'll +mind yours for a change. Make a monkey out o' me, will you, gol darn you!" + +As he was starting for the door, he bumped directly into Jasper Hardy and +his daughter Angela and the ubiquitous "Red." The trio had come over in the +Ford. + +Hardy, tall and thin, wore a funereal black coat, despite the heat, and a +somber dark Stetson hat. He must have been fifty or more. His skin looked +bloodless, and his eyes still had that hard, pale look. It was difficult to +trust eyes like those. He ambled, rather than walked, and his lean, lanky +legs would have made him a fortune on the stage. It was difficult to +believe, as everyone always said, that the lovely little Angela, with her +bright black eyes and her rose-red cheeks, was the daughter of this +sinister man. She was as attractive as a rose;--a typical frontier maiden, +romantic, emotional, peppery when occasion demanded--just the kind to take +the fancy of an honest soul like "Red." His eyes followed her wherever she +went, as ever. She could not sit down or stand up or open her delicate lips +but that he stared at her, hoping he could be of some service to her. +Sometimes he prayed that some slight accident would befall her in order +that he might prove his devotion. If she would only be sent to jail, that +he could bring her soup and pass it through the bars of her cell! He +dreamed this once, and awakened in a cold perspiration; for Angela (in the +dream) realized his worth then; and the Governor pardoned her, and they +were married at once and lived happily ever afterward. A Freudian lapse, +maybe, and a dream a little too sane, according to the psychologists, to +mean anything much; but rich in hidden meanings for poor "Red." Oh, that it +would come true! She had been so kind and sweet to him this morning. + +Hardy ambled into the room, and looked around in the most casual way. His +eye lit upon Uncle Henry first of all, naturally; for he had all but bumped +into him. + +"How are you, Smith?" he said. "Evenin'." + +And Angela piped up, to both uncle and nephew: "Good evening." + +Gilbert bowed. "How do you do? Won't you sit down?" And he pulled out a +chair for Angela. + +"No, thanks," Hardy said; but + +"Yes, thanks!" his daughter decided, and popped into a seat. "Red" loved +her for it. + +Hardy turned to young Jones. "Well?" was all he said. He referred to his +state of health--not that he cared how Gilbert felt. + +"Anything but," the latter answered. + +Jasper Hardy always went right to the point. He disliked equivocation; so +he rasped out immediately: + +"Have you got the money?" + +"No." + +Angela, who was tender-hearted, tried to intercede. + +"Now, father!" she pleaded. She hated this business. + +But Hardy paid not the slightest heed to her. He was a man of action, and +women shouldn't interfere--particularly young and pretty girls. + +"Then I reckon I'll have to foreclose," he went on relentlessly. "There's +nothing else to do." His hands closed tightly, and his hard eyes looked +even harder. + +"I'm afraid you're right," Gilbert said. "I was afraid it would be +inevitable. I couldn't have hoped for anything else." + +"I'm sorry," Jasper Hardy announced; but did not mean it. + +Gilbert told him so. "Moreover, I know how you got your money," the young +man was not afraid to say. + +"I know how he got mine, gol darn it!" Uncle Henry cried. Hardy glared at +him, seemed to smite him with his eyes. + +"I'm not in business for my health," he said coldly. + +"Nor for anybody else's," Uncle Henry, unabashed, told him. + +Angela feared there was going to be trouble. "Now, daddy, you mustn't--you +really mustn't--I feel--" + +But her father did not hear her. + +"The time's up at eight o'clock," was all he said, and looked sternly at +Gilbert, much as a judge who is pronouncing sentence looks at the prisoner +at the bar. + +"I know it," said Gilbert. + +"Now, daddy--" Angela began again. + +Hardy was angry at her repeated solicitation. "Will you let me alone? This +is my business," he said to her in a firm voice, "Remember that, and don't +attempt to put your finger in the pie. This is my business, I tell you." + +"Yes, I know daddy; but you needn't be so mean about it." + +"I'm a plain man, and I don't believe in beating about the bush. Get that +through your head--every one of you, I mean." + +"But you might at least be--" his daughter began once more. + +"Won't you please keep still?" His rage was mounting; and his brow +darkened. + +"I only want you to be nice about it, daddy," Angela persisted, sweetly. + +"How can anybody be nice about a thing like this?" said the man of iron. + +"I know I could be," Angela informed him. + +Her father looked at her. "Well, what would you do?" + +"Give him his ranch back, of course!" + +Jasper Hardy couldn't believe what he had heard, and from his own child. +"Well, for the love of heaven!" he cried, and almost burst out laughing. + +"We've more ranches now than we know what to do with. Everybody is aware of +that." + +Here was Uncle Henry's chance. "That's the idea!" he cried. "What do you +want it for, anyhow?" But no one paid any attention to him. + +"Oh, will you, daddy--for my sake?" Angela pleaded. + +Hardy was adamant. "Certainly not! What a stupid request. How did such +ideas come into your head?" + +"But I don't see why--" the unremitting Angela started to say. + +Her father was furious now, and tired of her prattle. He turned to "Red." +"Take her out doors, will you?" as though she were a child. + +"Red's" face gleamed as if a lantern had been lighted behind it. He turned +eagerly to Angela. "_Will_ I!" he cried. + +But Angela was scornful. How foolish of "Red" to think her father could +dismiss her in this way! She proceeded as though no such suggestion had +been made, and addressed her father once more, not in the least perturbed: + +"Of course, if you're going to be nasty about it--" Then, sweetly, to +Gilbert she continued: "Please don't think too badly of us, Mr. Jones. +Father doesn't really mean any harm." + +"No more'n a rattlesnake," Uncle Henry leaned out of his chair to whisper +in a voice that could be heard by everyone. + +"It's just that he doesn't know any better," Angela went on to Gilbert. +"He's really very neighborly when he wants to be." + +She rose, and "Red" offered her his arm; but she haughtily rejected it, and +went out the door, unaware that the devoted and humble "Red" followed her. + +Jasper Hardy was glad she had gone. He could speak freely now. He addressed +Jones. + +"Packed up yet?" he inquired, sarcastically, as though he meant to intimate +that his coming journey would be a pleasant one. + +Gilbert could have struck him; but he replied quietly: "I'll just put on my +hat and I'll be ready." + +But the literal-minded Hardy remarked: + +"Them crockery, and the rugs?" pointing to the articles significantly. + +"The rugs I'm presenting to a friend of mine. The crockery goes to the +cook. He has a family, you know." His irony was lost on the imperturbable +Hardy, who merely asked: + +"And you ain't got anything more to say, Jones?" He watched him closely. + +"Nothing of general interest." + +But Uncle Henry wasn't going to let matters end here. + +"I've got something to say," he announced like an oracle. "Your daughter +wants to marry him!" He imagined this would prove a thunderbolt; but Hardy +calmly asked: + +"How do you know that?" + +"Because she told me, that's how! And if only the gol darn fool would do it +like I want him to--" He addressed himself suddenly to his nephew, who now +stood on the other side of the table: "Aw, come on. Be a good feller, won't +you?" + +Again this outlandish interfering on the part of Uncle Henry! Was the old +fellow losing his reason? There was no privacy in their affairs--everything +was an open book to anyone who came to the adobe. It was getting to be +unbearable. Gilbert had controlled himself long enough in the presence of +others. He was sick and tired of the old man's meddling. + +"Keep still!" he warned him, and shook his finger in his face, "Keep still, +I say!" His cheeks were scarlet with rage. The blood pounded in his veins. + +The invalid never lost his courage. "You won't marry her?" was what he +said. + +"How can I, you--you--" Gilbert could scarcely stand it any longer. + +"Gol darn, the gol darn--" cried Uncle Henry; and then he swerved on Jasper +Hardy: "Maybe you can persuade him," he suggested. + +"Persuade him to what?" + +"To marry her," Smith brazenly said. + +"I don't want him to marry her," the father was honest enough to say. + +This had never occurred to Uncle Henry. "What's the matter with him?" he +asked, his eyes opening wide in amazement. + +"It would take too long to tell you." Hardy considered the argument closed; +but Uncle Henry came right back again: + +"But he's my nevyer!" + +"That's one of my main reasons," Hardy cruelly announced; and the only +come-back poor Uncle Henry had was an exasperated, "Oh, is that so!" +drawled out peevishly, weakly. + +"I want his ranch, not him," Hardy went on. He might have been discussing +someone not in the room. + +"But he's a fine young feller, if I do say so!" Uncle Henry came to +Gilbert's rescue, after the manner of all relatives when an outsider steps +in with criticism. + +"Only a minute ago I heard you call him a gol darn fool!" Hardy +triumphantly reminded him. + +"There you are," said Gilbert, addressing his uncle. "That's what you +get--" + +"Do you think I want my darter to marry a gol darn fool?" Hardy fired back +at the old man. + +Uncle Henry was flabbergasted, completely done for, for the moment. "Well, +what the--" But he could get no farther. + +Jasper Hardy looked at Gilbert, "Well, now that's settled." + +Uncle Henry butted in once more. "You won't let her?" + +"Let her what?" A pair of steely eyes were fixed on the questioner. + +"Marry him. Won't you?" + +"Of course not. What are you talking about, you old fool?" + +Uncle Henry was not to be outdone. He whisked around, facing the door, and +called at the top of his voice: + +"Angely! Angely!" + +From the yard came back, "Yes, I'm coming!" and Hardy's daughter ran in, +with "Red" at her heels. + +"Did you call me?" she wanted to know, looking at all three. + +"Yes; I did," said Uncle Henry. "I wanted to tell you that it ain't no use. +They won't neither of 'em do nothin'." + +"Who won't?" asked Angela, mystified. She hadn't an idea what the old man +was talking about. + +"The poor stiffs!" said Uncle Henry. + +"Do what?" Angela pursued. + +"I asked 'em!" the invalid whined. + +The girl grew impatient. "For goodness' sake, asked them what?" + +"To marry you, of course!" + +Angela thought she must be dreaming. + +"You--asked him--to marry me?" She looked about her, bewildered. + +"Yes; and he turned you down!" + +Surely now this must be a dream! "Red," too, was in a daze, suffering +vicariously for his adored one. + +"Oh!" cried Angela, when a full realization of what Uncle Henry meant came +over her. + +Uncle Henry went on: "Like your own payrent--the stony-hearted old +reptile!" + +"Oh, Gil--" began Angela in tears. + +"Go on--you ask 'em!" suggested Uncle Henry. + +"Gil--" the girl got out the first syllable of his name, and no more; for +her little handkerchief was at her pretty nose. + +"I'm sorry," said Gilbert, gallantly, going to her. "Please don't feel +badly about it." + +"Don't--don't speak to me!" Angela sniffed, and stamped her dainty foot. +"Don't look at me! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you all!" Blinded with +rage and tears, she crossed the room, and stumbled directly into Uncle +Henry's chair, and all but tipped him over. "Red" followed her, +solicitously. + +"Now, Angela--" he said, and tried to grasp her arm. "Remember, I'm here!" + +But all the thanks he got was a wild, "Get out of my way!" and he found +himself pushed aside, into a corner. Another of her unsuspected tantrums! + +"My God!" ejaculated Uncle Henry, furious at Angela's accident, which so +directly concerned himself, "but everybody's unreasonable to-day!" He +turned harshly on his nephew. "You make me sick, you! Here am I doing my +gol darndest to save the mess you've made, and you won't even--" He broke +off, unable, in his wrath, to continue. His eye lit on Hardy. "Look here," +he cried, in desperation, "ain't there no way out of this thing? It was my +money that bought this ranch, you know. And everybody knows it! The last +ten thousand dollars I had in the world!" There was a sob in his voice on +the last words. + +Hardy looked at him, but with no pity in his gaze. "That's your lookout, +Smith. Everybody for himself--that's my motto." + +"And you'd throw me, old and sick, a invalid, out into the streets?" Uncle +Henry whined. No one could get more pathos into his tones than Uncle Henry +when he wanted to do so. + +"No; I'd let you wheel yourself out," Jasper Hardy, again the +literal-minded Hardy, said. It was one of the meanest remarks that even he +had ever made. + +"Say, ain't you got no heart at all?" Uncle Henry wanted to know. + +"I used to have; but it cost me too much money," was Hardy's explanation +and vindication. "Sentiment? Bosh!" And he made a gesture of deep disgust. + +Uncle Henry wanted to put a curse on him! "Well, all I hope is that some +day you'll go broke and they'll bounce you out into Main Street!" He +chuckled in his chair. + +"The line forms on the left," the imperturbable Hardy said. "You're the +fifth that's had that hope this year. I don't care a rap what you think, +old feller! Remember that!" + +A shadow appeared on the doorsill; and Morgan Pell came in. His face was +harder than ever. It was obvious that he had not thrown away the bottle of +tequila until he had consumed the contents. His eye lit on Hardy at once, +but he said nothing to him. Instead, he meandered toward Gilbert and +observed, insolently enough: + +"Look here, you've kept me waiting too long. What does this mean, eh?" + +"I'm sorry," Gilbert returned. "I forgot all about you for the moment. Oh," +he suddenly remembered that Hardy and Pell were unacquainted, "you two +gentlemen ought to know each other. Mr. Pell, shake hands with Mr. Hardy." + +Pell gave the other a curt nod. "How are you?" was all he could bring +himself to say. + +"Pleased to meet you," answered Hardy, and turned away, "Red" and Angela, +interested spectators of this foolish proceeding, sat together on the +little settee by the window near the door, and smiled at the +shillyshallying of two grown men who should have known better. +Civilization! A mockery, surely, when two men couldn't be amenable in the +presence of others--two men who apparently had no reason for treating each +other this way. + +Pell suddenly addressed Jones. "I forgot to tell you that we're going this +afternoon." + +"I'm sorry," said his host. + +"And before I go," Pell went on, "there's a matter of business I want to +talk over with you. So if this gentleman is through--" he indicated Hardy +with his thumb. + +"Oh, I'll be through, all right--at eight o'clock to-night!" Jasper Hardy +announced, and drew several silver dollars out of his trousers pocket and +rattled them about in his hand, significantly. + +"What do you mean, eight o'clock?" Pell wondered. + +Hardy's eyes pierced him through and through. "When I foreclose the +mortgage I hold on this ranch. Understand now?" + +"When you foreclose...." Pell repeated the words as if he had not quite +comprehended. Then he said to young Jones: "You said this ranch belongs to +you?" What was the matter with him? Was his mind clouding? The stuff he had +drunk? He put his hand to his forehead. + +"It does," Gilbert explained. "You see, it isn't eight o'clock yet." A +faint smile came to his lips. + +Hardy failed to see the humor of the situation. "It's as good as eight +o'clock, as far as he's concerned." And he rattled the silver coins again. + +"Oh, is that so?" said Pell, beginning to see daylight. To young Jones he +said: "How far is it to town?" + +"Twenty miles, I should say." + +Pell thought a second, "Is that flivver of yours working, Jones?" + +"In a way." + +Pell thought harder. "We've got plenty of time," he said, as if to himself. +"Five hours! Get your hat," turning to the young man. + +Gilbert was confused. "What's the idea?" + +"We're going to pay the mortgage, of course. How much is it?" + +"Shouldn't you have asked that first--as a good business man?" + +"Answer me: how much is it?" + +"Ten thousand dollars," came the quick response. + +"And your equity?" Pell pursued, businesslike enough now. + +"Another ten thousand." + +He thought Morgan Pell would be stunned. Instead, he merely said, "I'll +give you twenty thousand. That'll pay the mortgage and give you your ten +back. You can give me an option while I'm arranging payment. Get me? +That'll save time." + +"You mean you'll give me twenty thousand dollars for this ranch?" Gilbert +said, unable to understand. + +"Exactly. Will you take it?" + +"You bet your life he'll take it!" cried Uncle Henry, whom everyone had +forgotten in the excitement of the moment. He rolled his chair expertly to +the table, and peered into his nephew's face, fearing he would make a fool +of himself once more. He was trembling with excitement. + +"Then that's settled," Pell announced. + +Unnoticed, Lucia had come to the top of the stairway, and stood listening +to every word. And Hardy, who had been trying his best to get a word in +edgewise, finally managed to cry out: + +"Wait a minute!" + +No one paid any attention to him. Gilbert was in deep meditation. He turned +to Pell. "But I don't want to be under any obligation to you," he said. + +"You won't," the other affirmed, and anxiety was in his voice. "Well, is it +a go?" + +"A go?" yelled Uncle Henry, unable to restrain himself. "It's gone!" + +Hardy stepped in between Pell and Jones. + +"Hold on, there! You can't do this." + +Pell looked him squarely in the face, "Why not, I'd like to know." + +"You mean you'd do me out of this property at the last minute?" Jasper +Hardy asked. + +Pell smiled. "That's my specialty!" + +Indignation was in every fiber of Hardy's gaunt frame. He was losing his +temper, and he was wise enough to know that that would never do. The +unforgivable sin was to lose control of oneself. He must hold on to his +voice, his movements; but a nest of hornets, under attack, could not have +been angrier. "I protest!" he said, as calmly as he could. "Here I been +settin' around waitin' for this place for five years! You can't come here +an' take it away from me like this! No, sir, I won't have it!" + +"Look here," Gilbert stepped in and said. "You're getting your money! What +are you boiling about?" + +"Red" had been listening attentively. He came close to Gilbert now, and +said, "He wants the place. Didn't he just say so?" + +"The place?" Gilbert repeated. "What the devil does he want the place for?" + +Pell was growing impatient. There was too much quibbling. "We're losing +time. Come on, let's get things settled." + +Jones, however, was not to be hurried. "But I want to know why he wants +this place so much." His suspicions were thoroughly aroused. + +No one had observed Uncle Henry, who had silently wheeled his chair about +until he got to the table, where Pell had left his satchel long ago. Like a +curious old woman he now picked it up, brazenly opened it, and exclaimed: + +"Hey! What the Sam Hill!" and backed away; but not until he had dipped his +hands into the bag. + +"What's the matter?" Gilbert asked, turning. + +"It's full o' dirt! Just dirt!" Uncle Henry cried, and glanced about to see +the effect of his surprising information. + +"Dirt?" Gilbert said, not understanding. + +"Yes, look!" And the old man pointed to the bag. + +"But whose bag is it?" Gilbert persisted. + +Uncle Henry lifted a thin finger and directed it to Pell. "His'n!" he said. + +But Gilbert was still in a daze. + +"But what in the world could anybody be taking specimens of the soil around +here for?" he inquired, and then began to think. + +"Just to show the character of the ground, to see what will grow best," +Pell hastened to explain. + +"But it won't grow nothin'--not even rocks, an' you know it," the occupant +of the wheel chair said. Then a new thought came to him, and he shot out, +"By golly, I got it! He's an oil man, ain't he?" + +Pell, furious, cried, "Oh, shut up! You old busybody!" + +"He wants to buy this ranch because there's oil here!" Uncle Henry went on, +not dismayed in the least at the other's insult. + +"Bah!" Pell scornfully ejaculated. + +Gilbert's face was a study. His eyes went from one to another in the room. +"Oil?" he said. "Oil?" + +"Yes, an' that's why _he_ wants it, too!" cried Uncle Henry, pointing to +Hardy this time, "The big skin!" + +Pell took up the satchel--the little bag that had caused such a big +sensation--and walked over to Uncle Henry's chair. + +"Why, you poor old dotard, there's no oil in these specimens. You can smell +'em yourself if you want to," he said. But there was something in his +manner of the lady who doth protest too much. + +"No, I can't," Uncle Henry was swift to deny. "My smeller's no good." He +sniffed comically--as if that proved his point. + +"Let _him_ examine them, then," suggested Pell, holding the satchel out to +Gilbert, who stood on the other side of the table. + +But Gilbert said nothing. It was Uncle Henry who again blurted out: + +"That don't prove nothin'. Mebbe he hasn't found the oil yet. But it's +here! If it ain't, why should you be fightin' so hard to get this rotten +place? Tell me that, will you? Nobody else ever wanted it--except this +kindly neighbor of ours!" He glared at Hardy triumphantly. + +Pell was silent. Gilbert came to himself. + +"Oil!" he said. "Then this ranch, instead of being worth nothing, would be +worth hundreds of thousand of dollars--maybe millions!" He had taken the +bag from Pell's extended hand, and now turned in dismay and confusion to +the window, and put the bag on a chair. What a world it was, and how +terrible that every other man seemed to be a predatory animal, ready to +spring upon his neighbor and wrest anything he had away from him. What a +world, indeed! No wonder young men lost their faith and courage! + +"Millions!" The word caught Uncle Henry's fancy and imagination. He rolled +it over on his tongue again and again. "Millions!" He babbled it, he played +with it. "Millions!" + +"Yes!" Gilbert said. "Think of that!" He turned and faced the others once +more. + +"An' we're goin' to get skinned out of millions! Oh, my Gawd!" The poor old +invalid wailed it out, and rocked himself in his chair. How he wished he +could rise, step out on the floor and knock Pell and Hardy down! Why didn't +his strong and husky young nephew do it? What was the matter with the +present generation, anyhow? Wasn't there any red blood in it? If he had +only been younger, and strong, able to fight for what he knew to be his +rights! But here he was, tied down in a wheel chair, trapped, helpless, +impotent. + +Pell was getting nervous, "This is nonsense," he said. "There's no oil +here." + +During all this long harangue, Lucia had quietly come down the stairs, and +now stood directly behind her husband. + +"And this is why you were so anxious to come here," she said, very low; yet +everyone heard her statement. "To dig around, and then, if you found oil, +to try to buy this place! Oh, I thought better of you than that, Morgan! +What a trick--what a dishonorable trick!" She shuddered away from him. She +almost hated him in this revealing moment. + +"And why not?" was all her husband said. "Hadn't I a right to look for oil +here? Suppose it was on the place?" + +"You wouldn't have told him if you had found it! You know you wouldn't," +his wife shot back at him. + +Pell glared at her, fury in the look. "What do you think I am? Crazy?" he +argued. + +"But that isn't honest!" Lucia fearlessly said. "It's as crooked as it can +be! And you know it." + +"But it's legal!" Pell fired back. "And what do I care--what does anybody +care--so long as it's legal! Ha! the courts would be with me! Moreover, +it's the way you get the clothes you wear and the food you eat, and all +those jewels that you hang on yourself when you undress and go to the +opera!" + +As he spoke, angrily, he went over to the chair where Gilbert had left the +satchel, seized it and threw it on the floor, as though its contents were a +symbol of the money she tossed away. + +There was no use replying to a man like Pell. Lucia knew that. He was +indignant that she had seen through his treachery. Here he was, a guest of +Gilbert Jones, eating at his table day after day, pretending to be his +friend, and all the while he had been planning this! And she had seemed to +be a part of it all. What must Gilbert think of her? What must everybody +think of her? + +It was Hardy who broke the tension. + +"Say," he wanted to know, "who's this woman, and what's she busting into +this for? We've had enough of petticoats around here for one day, it seems +to me." + +Uncle Henry was swift to inform him. "I'll tell you who she is--she's his +wife!" And he pointed to Pell. "But she loves _him_!" And he pointed to +Gilbert. + +It was as though a bomb had exploded. Terror came into Gilbert's eyes, and +fury into Morgan Pell's. + +"What's that?" the latter cried, aghast. As a madman might, he stared at +Gilbert for an instant; then his gaze shot in the direction of his wife, +standing so calm at the other side of the table. + +Young Jones almost made up his mind, in that blinding moment, to choke +Uncle Henry once for all, and have it done with. This was the last stroke, +the final straw. He could stand it no longer. He stalked over to his uncle, +and really intended to lay violent hands on him; but of course he could +not. That defenseless old man, that pathetic figure seemed to wilt before +his piercing eyes, seemed to shrivel and literally fall to pieces. In hot +disgust, Gilbert could only cry out: + +"How dare you! How dare you, I say! This is the crowning interference!" He +had put his hands behind his back and braced his shoulders, fearing that he +would not be responsibile for what he did. + +Uncle Henry, seeing that he was safe, came back to the fray. + +"Well, you _couldn't_ marry her," indicating Lucia, "an' you _wouldn't_ +marry _her_," pointing to Angela. "I guess I got some right to protect +myself, ain't I?" + +"Protect yourself!" repeated Gilbert, cynicism in his tone. He turned his +back on them all and moved to the window. His very shoulders revealed the +mental struggle he was going through. + +Morgan Pell's eyes, all this time, had never left his wife. He studied her +countenance as a pathologist might that of a person thought to be insane, +and Lucia almost gave way under his relentless analysis. "Red," seeing the +turn affairs had taken, quietly drew his gun, and Angela, frightened, put +her hands over her shell-like ears. If there was one thing she dreaded, it +was a shot. She was trembling like a leaf. She closed her eyes. She knew +that "Red," in his devotion to Gilbert, would not hesitate to kill Pell. + +With an inscrutable expression, Morgan Pell murmured, "H'm!" Then he turned +swiftly on Uncle Henry and asked, "You have proof, I suppose?" + +"Proof?" cried Uncle Henry. + +"Yes." + +"My Gawd," the invalid fairly shrieked, "all you gotter do is look at 'em! +I been watchin' 'em ever since you came." + +At this, Gilbert honestly believed that Uncle Henry had lost his reason. +Surely this was the insane delusion of a senile old man; and he said as +much to Pell. + +"Senile yourself!" cried Uncle Henry, mad through and through, feeling he +was immune from any attack. "Gol darn you!" + +So there was no shutting Uncle Henry up! Gilbert, in despair, turned to +Pell. "You don't believe it! You can't believe it!" he said. "This is +madness--" + +Pell said not a word; he seemed to be in deep thought. Suddenly his whole +manner changed, his voice as well, and he faced Gilbert frankly. + +"Certainly I don't believe it. My confidence in my wife is implicit." + +The metamorphosis was unbelievable. At least Uncle Henry thought so. + +"Well, I always heard that husbands was boobs!" he announced, +sarcastically. + +Angela at that instant opened her eyes and took her fingers from her ears. +Enough time had elapsed, she thought, for the worst to have happened. + +"Has it gone off yet?" she naïvely asked. + +"Has what gone off?" from Pell. + +"Why, the gun, of course!" Angela replied. + +"Gun?" + +She looked at "Red." "He had one, and I thought maybe he'd shoot you, or +maybe you'd shoot Gilbert, or maybe--Aren't you going to shoot him?" + +"What for?" + +"I thought that was what husbands always did!" + +Pell smiled. "Not sensible husbands, my dear." Then he faced Gilbert again. +"To go back to where we were: I will admit that there is a possibility of +oil in this property. But it is only a possibility." The strain was broken. +Everyone looked relieved. Lucia moved for the first time--she had been like +a frightened bird under the spell of a serpent. "I'm a business man," Pell +went on, suavely. "I'm willing to gamble twenty thousand dollars." + +"You will?" cried Uncle Henry. There was no quieting him. His life was one +long question-mark. + +"It's a fair proposition, and, as far as I can see, your only way out, +Jones." He had paid no attention to the old man's interruption. But the +latter broke in once more: + +"Why don't you lend _us_ the ten thousand and let _us_ gamble?" + +Pell was in no wise disconcerted by the query. He replied with another +question--always the shrewd man's way out of a difficulty, "Would you, in +my place?" + +"Sure I would!" came from the wheel chair. + +"Oh, you would--" + +"Yes, _sir_!" + +Pell had nothing further to say to him, but addressed himself to Gilbert +again. + +"However, if you don't think that offer fair, I'll give you twenty thousand +cash and assume the mortgages." + +"Twenty thousand?" Uncle Henry's eyes opened wide. + +"Well, what do you say?" Pell wanted to know, still addressing Gilbert. He +had no taste for Smith's constant interruptions. + +But Hardy broke in, confounded by this talk. He saw himself slipping out of +the transactions. "If you think you're going to ..." + +Pell paid no heed to what he said. "If I were in your place," he remarked +to young Jones, "it wouldn't take me long to decide. You see, from me you +get twenty thousand dollars clean. Otherwise, the place goes to him." He +nodded toward Hardy. "And you get nothing. It's mighty plain--as plain as +the nose on your face. I'm a plain man, and I don't quibble. I've made you +a direct offer. Nothing could be fairer. Well?" + +Gilbert didn't pause or hesitate a second. "All right. Give him the ten +thousand," indicating Hardy. + +Morgan Pell was visibly relieved. Things seemed to be going his way, just +as he had planned. Sturgis had been right, after all. He rubbed his hands +in satisfaction, "And now, to facilitate matters," he said, "if you will +give us a ten-day option on the place, at a purchase price of thirty +thousand ..." He went to the table, and arranged pen and paper, and +motioned Gilbert to be seated and write. + +The latter was in the chair at once. "Thank you, no. Twenty," he said, and +began to write. + +"Twenty?" Pell repeated, and stroked his chin. He must be wary; he must go +cautiously with this young fellow. He would see through him if he didn't. +"Certainly. Your first offer is the one I take," Gilbert said in a firm +voice. + +Uncle Henry couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You mean you ain't going +to take the other ten?" he cried, in surprise. Gilbert never looked up from +his writing. The pen was moving swiftly over the paper. Uncle Henry was on +the verge of a nervous breakdown then and there. He looked at Pell, +eagerly. "Give it to me! _I'll_ take it!" + +But Pell only said: "Mr. Jones is the owner of this property," and watched +the young man write. + +Angela, like a timid bird, watched the proceedings breathlessly, and moved +over close to her big father and put her little hand in his arm, "Isn't +there anything we can do, dad?" she inquired. + +Hardy pressed her fingers, and said, in a whisper: "But I'm not sure +there's oil here. I'm not sure at all." + +"But _he_ seems to be," said the shrewd Angela, looking at Morgan Pell with +his wily countenance. + +"Oh, these New York fellers!" Hardy deprecated. "You never can tell!" + +Gilbert rose. + +"Finished?" asked Pell. + +"Quite." And young Jones handed him the option on the property. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +WHEREIN LUCIA SEES TREACHERY BREWING, PELL PROVES HIMSELF A BRUTE, AND AN +UNEXPECTED GUEST APPEARS + + +When Lucia saw Gilbert pass the paper to her husband, she thought she could +not stand it. It was not her concern; and yet it was. Vitally, whatever +affected young Jones affected her. She could not see him tricked, duped. +And she knew that he was being played with, made a fool of. Some ulterior +motive lay beneath this seeming generosity. She tried to control herself; +but suddenly she found herself speaking. + +"No! Don't! I can't--" + +But she could get no farther. Something seemed to choke her, and make it +impossible for her to continue. + +Her husband looked at her in amazement. She turned away, and was silent. + +"Thank you," said Pell to Gilbert. Then, to his wife he said: "And now that +this is settled, we shall proceed to other business of even more +importance. This gentle soul," looking at Uncle Henry, "has said that our +friend loves you and that you love him. Is it true?" He was perfectly calm. + +Once more he was the crafty, cruel, scheming man; and back into his eyes +came that glitter she so feared. + +Gilbert, astonished, got to the other side of the table. + +"I thought we were through with all that!" he said. "What's the use of +harping on it?" + +"You were wrong," answered Pell, coldly. "I am a business man, as I told +you before. I do one thing at a time." His lids half closed, his hands +clenched. He swerved abruptly on his wife. "Well?" he said. "Well?" + +"You mean to say," said Gilbert, "that you took seriously what my doddering +old uncle said? I told you I thought he was crazy, and you seemed to agree +with me. What are you talking about now?" + +Morgan Pell's steel-gray eyes fastened themselves on Jones, "I am talking +to my wife. I am not ready for you--yet. One thing at a time, you know." +He looked again at Lucia. "Well? I am waiting. Answer me: Do you love him?" + +Alarm at Pell's manner was rife in the room. What a brute he was, and how +terrible was his verbal attack! + +Lucia could not trust herself to speak. She knew she would have to reply to +her husband's question, and though she knew her answer would be but a +monosyllable, she could not get it out. + +"Well?" Pell repeated, and the word was like a hammer-blow. + +"No!" Lucia managed to say. + +The husband now turned on Gilbert. "Do _you_ love _her_?" he asked with +great deliberation, as though he had rehearsed it in his mind for days. + +"Certainly not," was the immediate reply. + +The silence that followed could have been cut with a knife. Everyone stood +as though turned to stone. Surely this denial would be enough. Pell did not +move. A menacing expression came over his face. As though there were no one +else in the world, he glanced first at his wife and then at Jones, and +affirmed with quiet deliberation: + +"You're a couple of rotten liars!" + +Had he been struck in the face, Gilbert could not have been angrier. He saw +it all now--he was in this man's power, utterly. It had been planned +craftily, smoothly. And there was no escape for Lucia. God! what he had +gotten her in for! He cursed the tongue of Uncle Henry, and mentally he +heaped maledictions on his own head for his gross stupidity. So this was +how the land lay--this was the path that led to his destruction--ah! not +only his, but hers! Angry as he was, he knew it would be futile to do +anything but try, even now, to placate this wretched specimen of a man. He +had to think quickly. There was not an instant to lose. + +"But you said you didn't believe ..." he began; but Pell came mercilessly +back at him! + +"I didn't--then. The time was inopportune." + +Uncle Henry clutched the arms of his chair. "Ooooooh! The dirty bum!" he +yelled. + +Pell went on, inexorably. "But now that she herself has admitted it, and--" + +"Admitted it!" Gilbert cried, his rage now at the boiling point. + +"Yes! By everything she has said and done to-day. My dear fellow," with a +subtle change of tone, "God knows I am no prude." He smiled a bland smile. +"But there are limits to what any husband can endure." His lips became thin +and terrible; his eyes were gleaming slits. + +Gilbert was aghast. He saw no solution of this painful situation; no safety +for Lucia--his thoughts were all of Lucia. + +"You don't think that!" he said, "You couldn't possibly think that! Oh, my +God!" + +Morgan Pell sneered at him. "I know what I would have done, in your place +and with your opportunities." + +Gilbert found it hard to realize that any husband could say a thing like +this in the presence of his wife. It revealed, if anything further were +needed to reveal, the cur in the man. + +"We're not all as rotten as you are, Pell! Don't forget that!" he cried. +"You're a dog--a low-down dog." It was all he could do not to spring upon +this craven and pin him to the floor. + +"And we're not all as discreet as you!" Pell flung back. "And now, if you +don't mind," he added insinuatingly, "I'd like to talk to my wife--alone." + +Gilbert was consumed with fear for Lucia. "What?" he cried. + +"Have you any objections?" Pell said, curling his lip. The irony in his +tone was unmistakable. + +Gilbert moved toward the door. "Why--no." + +"Thank you," Pell said; and he threw wide the door leading from the alcove +so that his host might pass through. He waited for him to do so. Gilbert +hesitated for the fraction of a second. He looked at Pell, and then at +Lucia, still lovely for all her suffering. There was nothing to +say--nothing he could say. He disappeared into the other room, and shut the +door behind him. Pell immediately turned to the others. "Well?" he said. + +"You mean you want us to get out too?" Uncle Henry asked, indignation in +his high voice. + +"That's exactly what I do mean," Morgan Pell stated, firmly. "And the +sooner the better." + +The situation, he felt, was entirely in his hands. + +"Oh, very well!" Uncle Henry replied. He pushed his chair toward the door, +murmuring as he went, "Thank God I ain't his wife! That's all I got to +say!" + +Hardy was still standing in the shadows. He looked at "Red." "What's he +going to do?" meaning Pell. + +"I don't know. I--" the foreman answered. Angela, frightened, followed the +husky "Red" through the door; and the husband and wife were left entirely +alone. + +There was a pregnant silence. Terror came into Lucia's heart. Her brain +reeled. She had seen Morgan in a temper before--many times; but never with +quite this sinister light in his eyes, this tense, quiet force behind his +slightest gesture. What was he going to say to her? She felt like an animal +at bay. She determined that she would gain one advantage by making him be +the first to speak. But as he approached her slowly, fear seized her. He +seemed no longer a man, just a hulking giant--a brutal, frenzied creature; +and something quite apart from herself caused her to cry out: + +"What are you going to do?" Oddly there flashed into her mind that very +line, and she wondered where she had heard it. Yes, even in her terror, her +abject fear, she remembered. It was once when, as a child, she had seen a +dramatization of "Oliver Twist." Bill Sykes came toward Nancy, just as +Morgan was coming toward her now, with leering countenance, and the poor +wretch had screamed out: "What are you going to do?" That scene was forever +photographed on her brain, and now, from some strange recess, Nancy's +pitiful words came back to her. + +He did not answer. Another step, and he would be upon her. + +"What is it, Morgan? Oh, what is it?" She shrunk back, slowly. If he +touched her ... + +But he did not lift his hand, as she fully expected him to do. Instead, he +uttered only two words. They were a command. + +"Kiss me!" + +Almost she would rather have felt his blows raining on her head. + +"What?" she cried, a new amazement within her. + +He glared down at her. His breath was on her cheek. + +"You heard," he stated. And he stood stock still. + +Frightened beyond believing or seeing, she offered her cheek to him. "But +I--" she managed to get out. + +Pell saw that she was shrinking away again; she could not bring herself to +do as he willed. + +"So!" her husband cried, significantly. Now she realized, in a blinding +flash, the cruel subtlety behind his test of her. Her head went back; she +closed her eyes. And then--how she did it she never knew--she raised her +mouth. + +"I don't want to kiss you." It was the refinement of cruelty. "I want _you_ +to kiss _me_. Do it!" His hands were behind his back. He stood straight and +stiff as an Indian chief. + +He watched her least movement. He put his lips very close to her mouth. +She struggled in that one mad second, and tried to kiss him. She could +not--she could not bring herself to the act. + +He laughed sardonically. The devil himself could not have laughed liked +that. + +"Some women could have done it," he told her, sternly. "But not you, my +dear...." Fury and sarcasm were in his tone. "So! That's it, is it? And I +stand blindly by while you and he ..." + +Utter madness seemed to rush upon him. + +Lucia had backed to the table. "No! I can't. You--you brute!" + +Pell watched her, steadily. "Do you think I am a fool? Or that you are more +than human?" he cried out. + +"I swear to God!" she contradicted him. + +"Ha! You've had your turn, my lady! Now, it's mine! And after all I've done +for you, you ungrateful hussy!" + +The clock struck three. It seemed an eternity until the little bell ceased. +Her life with him swam before her in that brief period. All she could utter +was: + +"What are you going to do?" And she clutched her hands in helplessness, +for she read some sinister purpose in his voice. + +"I'm going to do what I once saw another sensible husband do under these +circumstances." + +Lucia's face was ashen now. "What is that?" + +A second's pause. She hung on his answer. + +"Horses don't know who they really belong to. So they are branded. There is +no reason why women equally ignorant shouldn't be similarly treated." Every +word was measured, uttered with fearful distinctness. His hand shot behind +him on the table, where "Red" had left his spurs. Lucia saw the swift +movement. + +"No!" she screamed, "Oh, no, Morgan, not that!" Her senses reeled. The +earth crashed beneath her. + +But he paid no heed. He seized her fiercely by one arm, reaching far out to +do so, and, gorilla-like, he had her, this weak flower, in his clutches. He +pinioned her deftly, and thrust her lovely body back, until her face looked +upward from the table. With his right hand, he started to tear her +beautiful face to shreds with the cruel spurs, forever to ruin her glorious +features, when, as if through a miracle, the door was thrown wide open, and +a strange figure stood on the sill--a Mexican in a great sombrero, a +flaming red kerchief at his throat, and eyes that gleamed and glistened, +teeth that were like the whitest ivory. + +He stood, with arms crossed, surveying the scene. If lightning had struck +the adobe, Pell could not have been more dazed. + +He released his wife. "What the devil!" he cried. "Who are you?" + +"Hold up your hands!" yelled the bandit, stepping over the threshold. And +Pell's hands went up, like magic, the spurs jangling to the floor. + +There was a noise without, and Uncle Henry was pushed in by a crude, +foul-looking Mexican, then came "Red," Angela, and Hardy, followed by +another Mexican bandit, and several Mexicans. + +"Who is he? What does this mean?" Pell cried out. + +"This is Pancho Lopez!" "Red" Giddings said. Everyone's hands were lifted, +and pistols were held by the Mexicans, ready to go off at the slightest +sign of rebellion. + +"Pancho Lopez?" Pell repeated, frightened almost to the breaking point. + +The bandit, a strange smile upon his lips, and hidden laughter in his eyes, +knew his power. The situation was one in which he reveled. He gazed around +him, triumphantly. His legs were spread apart, a cigarette drooped +nonchalantly from his lips. + +"Señors, señoras!" he announced, in fascinating broken English, "you are +all my preesoner!" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +WHEREIN THE BANDIT EXPOUNDS A NEW PHILOSOPHY, AND MAKES MARIONETTES OF THE +AMERICANS + + +"Put all ze men outside," Lopez ordered. Venustiano and Pedro, his chief +lieutenants, obeyed at once, forcing them to march ahead of them, and +standing guard over them near a great cactus bush a few feet from the +adobe. "Leave ze women with me," the bandit continued. "But first, +Alvarada, you find ze cook. I am 'ongry." + +"_Si_," answered Alvarada; and after he had made certain that Pedro and +Venustiano could handle the three men, one of whom, after all, was but an +invalid in a wheel chair, he made his way to the kitchen. He knew there +were two other companions who would help in any emergency. They slunk in +the background, cigarettes between their lips, guns always ready for +action. The house was completely surrounded. + +Lucia and Angela, left alone with Lopez, revealed the deep concern they +felt. They watched the bandit as he pawed through some papers on the table. +With maddening indifference he then lighted another cigarette, and went +over to the door, looking out at the male prisoners. Finally he turned upon +them, looked them over, and remarked: + +"What a pity. Only two women!" + +They shuddered away from his gaze. + +There was a noise from the direction of the kitchen, and Alvarada, with the +miserable little Mexican cook ahead of him, rushed in. + +He was addressing him in Spanish: "_Usted si cusinero. Borachi!_" + +Lopez gave one glance at the poor specimen who had charge of the kitchen. + +"The cook," he laughed. "He is dronk!" He now addressed him directly: "You +are dronk," he affirmed, and stamped his foot. + +Frightened, the boy cried: "No! No!" Certainly he was under the influence +of the deadly tequila; but when he saw the bandit's face, and realized that +he was in his power, he became suddenly and miraculously sober. He was +firmly convinced that his last moment on this earth had come. He knew that +a man like Lopez never hesitated to shoot to kill. He realized in the +twinkling of an eye how late it was, how the dinner had been delayed +through his drunkenness; and this visitor would brook no further waiting. +He fully expected to be shot against the door. Therefore, to save time, he +slunk to the entrance of the kitchen, placed himself against the jamb, +crossed himself, muttered a rapid, incoherent prayer in Spanish, put his +hands behind his back, closed his eyes and waited for the fatal shot that +would send him straight to hell. + +But nothing happened. Lopez looked at the cook, and said casually to Pedro: + +"Not till after dinner," and puffed his cigarette. + +"_Despues de la comida_," said Pedro. + +"I will make for you!" cried the wretched cook, opening his eyes, and so +relieved to be still alive that he could scarcely articulate. + +"_Pronto_," ordered Lopez. + +"_Si, Madre di Dios!_" cried the cook; and fled to his kitchen, tumbling +over himself in his eagerness to get a meal for the bandit. + +There was a pause. What would Lopez do next? Kill them all? In Spanish he +began, turning to Lucia: + +"_Santa Maria_--You come here." + +Angela stepped forward. + +"You mean me?" she asked, sweetly. + +"No!" came the gruff voice of Lopez. "You!" pointing to the frightened +Lucia. + +"Why do you want me?" she asked, moving slightly toward him. + +"I would look at you," the bandit replied. He was appraising her already. +"Turn around." She obeyed, like an automaton, "'Ow old are you?" + +She would not lie. "Twenty-four," she answered. + +"Ees pretty old," laughed Lopez. "Let me see your teeth." + +"My teeth!" echoed Lucia. Did he take her for a horse? + +Lopez merely nodded; and, with all the self-control she could bring to her +aid, she opened her mouth and showed her wonderful teeth. + +"_Si_," remarked Lopez, evidently pleased at the sight. "An' now, 'ow much +weigh?" + +"I don't know exactly," Lucia said. + +"What's your name?" the bandit went on. + +"Lucia." "Lucia!" he rolled the name over on his tongue, and smiled. +"Lucia!" he repeated. "Ees nice name." Then, "Come 'ere. Come 'ere!" He did +not wait for her to move this time. He put out his hand and drew her close +to him. "I would see more of you," he told her. And, to her amazement and +horror, he lifted her skirt delicately, almost tenderly. Her womanhood +revolted at his action. This barbarian! She slapped his hand. But Lopez +paid no more attention to the blow than if a child had struck him. "Not +bad," he went on, indifferently, referring to her well-turned ankle. "'Ow +you like to go wiz me to Mexico? Well?" when she did not answer. "You 'eard +what I said." + +That she should be insulted thus! "But--oh, I couldn't do that!" she cried +out, in terror. + +"Why not?" Lopez demanded. + +"I'm--married." + +"Well, we will not take ze 'usband! Just you an' me. We go to ze +bull-fight. I rob ze jewelry store for you. We get plenty dronk." She +shuddered. "Sure! I show you 'ell of a good time. Well, 'ow you say?" He +glared at her, almost winked, smiled, and let a ring of smoke curl upward. + +Lucia turned away, ashamed, mortified. "I never heard of such a thing!" she +cried. Lopez laughed. "Deedn't nobody ever offer you good time before?" + +"Not like this." Lucia thought if he didn't stop soon, she would shriek. + +"No? You 'ave been married all your life wiz one man?" + +"Yes," she told him. + +"My! what a rotten life you 'ave led!" the bandit commiserated her. "But +ees not too late. I shall steel save you. But you shall not sank me. Shall +not be so damn bad for me, too!" + +Definite terror seized Lucia now. She knew by his tone, by his every +gesture, that he was not fooling. She had heard, had read, of men like this +Lopez. They were thick along the border. He meant business. Morgan had not +exaggerated the danger of coming down here. + +"But you wouldn't do that," she cried out. + +"Why not?" Lopez said. + +"It's--it's wrong!" + +The bandit smiled his winning smile. "Whose beeziness what we do if we like +for do him?" + +"Please don't take me with you!" Lucia appealed. Why had Morgan Pell ever +brought her to this border line? She might have known better than to come. +It was no place for a young and attractive woman. + +"You don't wish to go?" Lopez questioned, hardly believing that any pretty +woman could resist his charms. + +"No," cried Lucia. + +"You mean you wish to stay married wiz one man?" + +"Ye-es," Lucia faltered. + +"Never no life? Never no fun? Ha! If you was old, fat--zen, perhaps. But +young, beautiful! For why was you born if you no wish to leeve?" + +"But I do wish to live!" Lucia cried in desperation; and her hands went out +in an attitude of supplication. + +Lopez appraised her once more. "But when I come along an' show you 'ow you +raise 'ell and say no. Ees great honor to be took by Pancho Lopez into +Mexico. Like 'ow you say, ze decoration for ze chest," and he indicated the +spot on his coat where a war medal might be placed. + +Just then, to Lucia's relief, the cook came in, bearing a tray laden with +chile con carne, bread and butter, and sugar, and placed it on the table. +His fright was still evident. His hands trembled, his legs shook. + +"Ah! Ze food!" Pancho cried. "Good! Put zem zere!" he ordered; and the cook +placed the tray closer to him. Then he turned to Lucia Pell. "You shall +wait on me," he told her, as though he were conferring the greatest honor +upon her. + +Angela came close to him, eager again to please him. He merely pushed her +to one side, and had eyes only for Lucia. "You!" he said, looking her +straight in the face. He sat down, and scanned the tray, while the cook +stood in terror, not daring to leave the room, but wishing to God this +moment were over. Had he forgotten anything? + +"I do not see ze coffee," Pancho said at last. + +"I get for you!" the cook screamed in a shrill voice, and rushed for the +kitchen. + +"_Pronto_," Lopez said. Then, to Lucia, "Ze bread." She leaned over to get +a piece for him. He watched her carefully. "Your hand is shake. For why? +You 'fraid from me, perhaps?" + +She admitted that she was afraid--a little. + +"And why?" he inquired. + +"Because I've heard that you kill people," she bravely told him. + +"Oh, but that isn't so!" Angela broke in, fearful that the mere mention of +killing would bring about a murder then and there. "I'm sure it isn't!" +Nothing must be said to raise the thought in Pancho's mind. + +"Why are you so sure?" Lopez demanded. + +"It couldn't be! It couldn't be!" Angela declared. "Anyone so romantic as +you, so--" And she tried to look her pleasantest. He must be placated, this +wretched man. + +"You are wrong," Lopez informed her, and also the entire room, "I do kill." +Lucia, who had taken a seat near him, now drew back in alarm. He was quick +to see her action. + +"You need not be afraid," he heartened her. "I shall not 'urt you. That is, +not yet. The chile--" she dished some out for him, hurriedly. "So! You are +afraid of me because I kill people, eh?" He leaned back, and his lids +contracted until his eyes looked wicked and sinister. The spangles on his +sleeves trembled like leaves. + +"A little," Lucia managed to say. + +"You sink it wrong to kill?" Pancho wanted to know, gulping down a great +mouthful of chile, and smattering a huge slice of bread with butter. He ate +with his knife, like a glutton. He smacked his lips, and wiped them on the +sleeve of his coat, where the brass buttons gleamed picturesquely. + +"You talk of killing in such a matter-of-fact way," Lucia observed. + +"An' why not?" Lopez asked. + +The cook brought in the coffee-pot and put it on the table. + +"Does life mean as little to you as that?" Lucia asked another question. +This man was an enigma. He was bad through and through. They were as +helpless as cattle in his hands. + +"Life?" Lopez smiled. "To be 'ere--zat is life. Not to be 'ere--" he gulped +down some steaming coffee--"zat is death. Life is a leetle thing--unless it +is one's own." He put the big cup down and put in four spoonfuls of sugar, +stirred it diligently, and looked around him, the wonder of a child in his +face. + +"You do kill your prisoners, then?" Lucia brought out. + +"Sure!" laughed Pancho. + +Could she have heard aright? "You do?" she cried, and her cheeks took on an +ashen hue. + +"_Ciertamente!_" the bandit stated, as though they were talking of the +weather. "You capture ze preesoner. You 'ave no jail to put 'im in. You +pack him around wiz you. If you let 'im go, 'e come back to fight you +again. So you kill him. Eet is very simple." + +"But it seems so cold-blooded!" Lucia said. + +"Ah! to you, perhaps! It is ze difference between zose who live in safety +and zose who live in danger. In safety you 'ave ze bill to pay. You pay it +and you forget it. In danger you 'ave enemy to kill. You kill 'im an' you +forget 'im. _Save?_" And another heaping knifeful of the chile con carne +went into his mouth. + +"It's too horrible!" said Lucia; and she turned away. + +"Ees life too horrible?" Pancho wanted to know. + +"I never knew life was like that!" she said. + +"Because you 'ave never really lived," the bandit explained. "Because you +'ave been always protect by ozzers. I kill only men. And only evil men. And +when I kill evil man, it make me very 'appy. For I 'ave did a good deed." +His simple philosophy pleased him. + +"But who decides whether a man is good or evil'" + +"I do!" answered Lopez, quick as a flash, and wondering how she could have +asked so stupid a question. + +"Oh, do let me pour some more coffee for you!" Angela begged. + +"If you wish," Lopez said, indifferently. It mattered little to him now +who waited upon him. His inner man had been partially satisfied. He leaned +back in his chair, at peace with all the world. One spurred and booted foot +was on the table. + +"Oh, thank you!" Angela was all smiles. She was making headway with this +evil man. "Thank you so much," she followed up, and, standing sweetly at +his left, she poured the brown stuff into his cup. "Lovely weather, isn't +it?" she remarked. The cook took the pot from her, and went back to the +kitchen with it. + +"_Si_," Lopez said. "Sit down. Sit down." Angela thought of course he was +speaking to her, and being kind to her because of her girlish attentions. +So she promptly seated herself. "No, not you!" Pancho said roughly, putting +six spoons of sugar in this second cup. "You, I mean," indicating Lucia +once more. Angela pouted, and turned her back on this bad, bad man. Pancho +never even noticed her. The more opulent beauty of Lucia appealed to the +sensuous in him. "You," he repeated. "Tell me, señora, 'ave you never been +to a free country?" + +Lucia was surprised at his question. + +"A free country?" she said. + +"Yes; like Mexico, for instance." + +"Don't you call the United States a free country?" Lucia asked him. + +He almost roared his head off. "The United--Bah! Ees the most unfree +country what is. Every man, every woman, is slave--slave to law, slave to +custom, slave to everysing. You get up such time; eat such time," his hands +went out in Latin frenzy. "Every day you work such time, every night go to +bed such time. And, _Madre di Dios_, every week you take bath such time!" +This was, to him, the ultimate joke. "An' you call it a free country! Ees +only one free country. Ees one in which man does as she damn please. Like +Mexico!" he ended. + +The women were astounded. They had always thought of Mexico as a land of +rough-and-tumble, comic-opera revolutions; a place where one must forever +be on the lookout for trouble; where robbers were rife and the days were +nothing but a chain of abominations. A sunny, beautiful country, maybe; but +no place for a God-fearing American citizen to settle. Why, they would as +soon commit murder in Mexico as go to market. + +"Haven't you any laws in Mexico?" Lucia inquired. + +"We 'ave--ze best," Lopez was swift to reply. + +"But you just said--" Angela started to remind him, and took a little stool +and moved close to him, seating herself upon it. She did not want him to +forget her girlish sweetness. Lopez paid no heed to her. + +"They are ze best because each man makes them for 'imself. Not like New +York, where everybody tell you what you cannot do until zere is nozzing +left what you want to do." + +Angela piped up: "You've been to New York?" + +"When I was agent for Madero--yes. I live at ze big hotel. I 'ave planty +money. Ees no damn prohibition. I get dronk. I 'ave 'ell of a time. Sure! I +see 'im all! New York!" he smiled in recollection. + +"And you didn't like it?" Angela persisted, moving her little stool even +closer to him. + +"Like it? It makes me seeck! Even beautiful woman what I see 'ave 'osband +what is afraid for 'er. Each time I get dronk comes big policeman which 'it +me on ze 'ead." He smiled at the thought, "When I go to ze teatro, ees +someone which 'ide under--ze bed. Not even can I step on ze grass +because--New York! It crush ze 'eart!" He put both hands over his chest, +and looked up at the ceiling. + +"Yes!" exclaimed Angela, her stool very close to him now. + +"Ees a prison for ze soul!" Lopez affirmed. "A stupid, seely place, your +New York!" + +"Yes!" Angela agreed again. + +"For me New York can go to 'ell just as soon as she damn please!" the +bandit let out. + +"Oh, Mr. Robber!" Angela cried. + +"But Mexico! How different!" Lopez said, paying no more attention to Angela +than he would to a fly. + +"I'm sure it is!" the girl said. + +To Lucia, Lopez went on: "You shall see! Ze beautiful woman 'ave 'osband. +But shall I not 'ave beautiful woman?" + +"Oh, Mr. Bandit!" Angela put in once more. + +"When we get dronk, ees not policeman which will 'it us on ze 'ead, but us +which will 'it policeman on ze 'ead." Angela chuckled at this. "In ze +teatro shall not be someone which 'ide under ze bed, but in it! You shall +see! In Mexico ze heart leap! Ze soul she is free! You can do what you +want--zat is, onless someone shoot you. Leesten, señora." He leaned close +to Lucia, who had not ventured to move, "Did you ever know the joy of +fierce leeving? Did you?" + +But she did not reply. Instead, it was the impetuous Angela who answered +him: + +"Yes. I mean, no!" + +Lopez turned and scowled at her. "I was not spik to you," he said. + +"You weren't!" Angela looked her surprise. + +"_Ciertamente_ no!" the bandit said. + +Angela was hurt. "But you're not cross with me, are you?" she almost wept. + +"No! I am not cross wiz you! Eez zat you annoy me!" And as though she were +a doll, he pushed her from him, his big hand almost blotting out her pretty +little face. The stool and Angela fell to the floor. She was furious. The +devil in her was roused. Chagrined, she picked herself up. Her dainty plaid +frock was covered with dust. She brushed it off as best she could, and +cried: + +"How dare you push my face, you bad man!" + +"You should keep your face to home," Lopez answered, not turning a hair. He +hadn't meant to be cruel. The incident was nothing to him. When anyone was +in his way, he always got the obstacle out of it. He addressed the silent +Lucia, who was horrified at the treatment accorded the innocent Angela. +"Now that we have all finished eating," he said, delighting in the sarcasm, +since no one else had had a bite, "we will get down to business." He +shoved the tray aside, and the cook began instantly to clean things up. +"Pedro!" Lopez called, taking out a huge ivory toothpick which he +shamelessly used. + +Instantly Pedro was at the door. "_Si!_" he said. + +Lopez still spoke to Lucia: "We shall have big time togezzer--at least for +a leetle while." Then he motioned to Pedro; and his men brought in the male +prisoners. "You will not worry 'bout being married, once you come wiz me." + +Morgan Pell heard this last remark. + +"Look here," he said, "that's my wife you're talking to!" Rage was in his +face. He didn't care whether he was this man's prisoner or not. There +should be no insults hurled at Lucia--that old, primitive feeling for his +woman was roused. + +"So!" was all Lopez said, turning on Pell, and nodding his head. "Ees nice +wife--I like her. You do not mind, do you?" His hand touched Lucia's arm. +"Ees all right. I shall ask no question. You shall answer what I ask. And +as is my custom, anybody what does not tell ze truth shall be quite +suddenly--" he paused just the portion of a second--"shot." + +Uncle Henry had rolled in with the rest. At this last word his chair +reared up like a frightened steed. "Shot!" he cried. + +"_Si_," answered Lopez, calmly. + +"You mean it?" Uncle Henry asked, unbelief in his tone. + +The bandit glared at him. + +"Should I waste my time listening to sings which are not true?" + +"Thank Gawd, I ain't got nothin' to lie about!" was Uncle Henry's relieved +thought, expressed aloud. + +"H'm!" Lopez murmured. "You have given me a idea." He rubbed his hands +together, and then pushed his big sombrero a little back on his forehead. +"Better as my own. I shall use it." + +Uncle Henry wondered what he had suggested. "What's that?" he asked. + +Lopez took on the voice of an orator, or a man in court making an important +announcement. "If anyone 'ere shall tell me a lie, zen you shall all be--" +he paused dramatically once more--"shot." The final word rang out like a +shot itself. + +A movement of despair ran through the group. + +"Geemoneddy!" Uncle Henry broke the tension. + +Lopez turned to Lucia. "All bot you," he graciously informed her. "I 'ave +ozzer plans for you!" Her hair enraptured him--her youth and loveliness. + +The relief she felt at the first part of the sentence was quickly killed as +the sinister meaning of the latter part rushed into her brain. + +"Other plans!" she cried. + +"_Si._" He was unmoved by her apprehension. He walked to the very center of +the room, and looked about him, studying all their faces. + +It was as if he were a central pivot and their destinies revolved around +him. They had no idea what he would say next, and they hung on his words. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +WHEREIN UNCLE HENRY CHATTERS SOME MORE, THERE IS AN AUCTION, AND THINGS +LOOK BLACK INDEED + + +"And now for business," Lopez said. "And remember zat he what tells a lie +shall be right away shotted." In his excitement he lost the little English +he had. + +"I only hope _he_ tells one!" Uncle Henry couldn't help saying, pointing to +Hardy. + +"You wish him to be shot?" the bandit wanted to know. + +"Absolutely!" Uncle Henry was quick to answer. + +Angela was horrified. "You want him to kill my dad?" + +"I should enjoy it tremendous," Uncle Henry kept right on, and all but +smacked his thin old lips. + +Lopez was interested. "Why," he said slowly, wishing to get at the bottom +of things, "do you wish him to be shotted so tremendous?" + +Uncle Henry had no hesitation in answering: "Because he come to skin us out +of this place, gol darn him!" And then, as if to save his skin, he pushed +his chair far into the alcove, and, from this vantage point, watched to see +what Hardy would do and say. He was aware that he had gotten him in a +devilish stew. It served him right. He was a robber, a thief, and he didn't +care what became of him. If Lopez took him out and had him shot at once he +wouldn't have felt a qualm. + +The bandit weighed what Smith had said; then he spoke directly to Hardy. +"Zis is so? Zis is true?" + +"No." The monosyllable was more emphatic than any long explanation could +have been. A scowl on his brow, Hardy came close to Lopez, fearlessly. "I +came to foreclose a mortgage I hold on this place. That is all." + +But Uncle Henry was not going to see him get away with that. "Tell him why +you want this ranch so bad!" he yelled. "I dare you!" + +Pell now stepped forward. Their predicament was bad enough as it was, +without having this old imbecile make it worse. "Keep still, you fool! Do +you want to get us into more trouble?" + +"I certainly do," cried Uncle Henry, "an', gol darn it, I'm a-goin' to! Rob +me of ten thousand dollars, will you?" + +Lopez was listening with both ears; and a glint came into his eyes, "Zat is +true?" he inquired, interested anew. "He has rob you of ten sousand +dollars? Eh--heh--a good beeg sum!" + +"Ask him!" Uncle Henry said. "An' I only hope to thunder he tells a lie!" +His voice went up on a high key. + +The bandit looked keenly at Morgan Pell. "Did you?" There was no reply. +"You hear me--you will answer--at once!" + +"No." Morgan Pell shot out the word, and clenched his fists. The situation +was becoming hot. This old fellow would have them all dead in a few moments +if he didn't keep his mouth shut. + +A look of triumph came into Uncle Henry's eyes. "There's your big chance!" +he shouted to Lopez. "Shoot him quick!" + +But Pell said calmly: "I paid twenty thousand dollars for an option on the +place." + +"Yes, but you didn't give me the money!" Uncle Henry insisted. + +"I was going to," the other replied, not even casting a glance over his +shoulder. + +Old man Smith turned to Lopez. "Oh! You didn't shoot quick enough! I got it +now! Ask him why he wants the place! Maybe he'll tell another one!" And he +tittered with glee. + +Lopez put the question to Pell. + +"I--I--" the latter stammered; but could get no farther. + +Uncle Henry was gleeful now. "Get ready!" he yelled to Lopez. "He's going +to do it! Keep your hand on your gun!" + +"I thought," Pell brought out reluctantly, "I thought there might be--oil +on it." + +Lopez was dumbfounded. This was far more interesting than even he had +calculated. + +"Oil?" he said. + +Pell looked down. "But I think, under the circumstances, I shall not take +up my option." The paper was in his hand, and Lopez, seeing it, reached as +if to take it, when Pell handed the document to him. "In which case," Pell +informed the bandit, "the place would belong to him," shrugging a shoulder +toward Uncle Henry. + +"What's that?" the latter asked. + +"--making him a very rich man indeed," Pell added, significantly. + +Aghast at the turn affairs had taken, Uncle Henry could scarcely speak. +"Well, for the love o' Mike!" he managed to say. + +The bandit now turned full upon Uncle Henry, who was still concealed in the +shadow of the alcove. "Ah! so you would have all ze money!" + +"No, I wouldn't!" Uncle Henry protested. "I--" He quickly put his hand to +his mouth, stopping it like a child caught in a lie. "I mean--yes, I +wouldn't! Only we ain't found the oil yet. And personally, I don't believe +there's any here in the first place!" Realizing what he had said, he caught +himself again. "I mean, it may be here, but--Don't shoot yet! I'll get it +in a minute!" he begged. He was agitated to the breaking point. + +Hardy stepped forward, "Wait. I've a suggestion to offer," he said. + +"Yes?" Lopez uttered the word as though he had grave doubts. + +"You're after money," the tall, lank neighbor said. "I'll tell you how we +can make some--make a lot." + +"Well?" said Lopez, still far from convinced, and taking things easily. + +Hardy spoke more rapidly. "If the mortgage I hold on this property isn't +paid by eight o'clock to-night, it becomes mine. Keep that paper here until +eight o'clock, and I'll give you ten thousand dollars!" He watched the +effect of his words on the Mexican. + +Pell spoke before the bandit. "Why, damn you--" he began, to Hardy. + +But the latter paid no attention to his insult. He faced Lopez, as though +he were the only person in the room. "What do you say, is it a go?" + +"Wait a minute!" Pell cried. + +Lopez faced him. "Yes?" And puffed his cigarette. + +Pell addressed both the bandit and Jasper Hardy. "I'll make a better offer. +Keep _him_ here until eight o'clock, and I'll give you twenty thousand +dollars!" + +Lopez was considering, "H'm," he murmured, and stroked his chin. + +Uncle Henry saw a mess ahead. He steered right into the group, crying, +"Wait a minute. I got a better idea yet!" + +"You?" Lopez said, as he might have addressed a moron. + +"Yes, this place don't belong to neither of 'em yet!" + +"But who does it belong to?" the Mexican wanted to know. + +"My nevyer," the invalid said. + +"And which is 'e?" + +"He's down in the shed--fixin'," the old man informed him. + +Lopez turned to Pedro. "Venustiano shall find him. Before he make +trouble--you," turning to "Red," "shall show 'im where." Pedro had raised +his revolver; and one look at it was enough for "Red." These bandits meant +what they said; more, they meant every gesture they made. + +"It's all right," the foreman said. "He ain't got anything to lose anyhow. +I'll show you where he is," and, followed by the sinister Venustiano, he +went out. + +Uncle Henry moved his chair close to Lopez. "Now listen, robber--I mean, +bandit. You keep both these fellers here and lend us ten thousand dollars, +and we'll give you a million!" + +"A million!" said Lopez, his eyes big. + +"The first million we make out of the oil that's here!" "Uncle Henry +proposed. And, serious as things were getting to be, a smile went around +the group. + +"I should lend you ten sousand dollar?" the bandit asked. + +"Absolutely! Will you?" Uncle Henry had the temerity to say. + +"I do not lend," was the hard response. "I take." And he turned away. + +"But if you'll--" the old man pleaded. + +"Your proposition not interests me," Lopez said. Uncle Henry wheeled over +to the staircase. The bandit turned to Pell. "You offer me twenty sousand? +Zat is so?" he said. + +"Right," Pell replied. + +Lopez smiled sardonically, "Twenty sousand--for what is worth millions?" + +"But I don't know that there's oil here," Pell argued. + +Lopez laughed. "No?" Then, to Hardy, "You? You don't know, eizer, I +s'pose?" + +"I thought there might be--that's all." + +The bandit gave a hearty laugh. "Oh!" he exclaimed, almost consumed with +mirth. "I see I do business wiz business men--wise business men. _Bueno_! +Now we three business men togezzer, eh? Suppose I shall show you where ze +oil is. What zen?" He looked around the room, as if he thought everybody +should be interested; and indeed everyone was. Little gasps came from Hardy +and Pell, and Uncle Henry wiggled his chair up closer. + +"Show us where she is?" Hardy asked, breathless. + +"_Si_," Lopez answered. + +"There _is_ oil here?" Pell asked excitedly. + +Another cigarette went into the bandit's mouth. "Should I waste time +talking of what ain't?" he drily said. + +Hardy was still skeptical. "You know there's oil on this ranch?" + +"I 'ave know so for a long time." + +"On the level?" said Pell, eagerly. + +"'Way down below," laughed Lopez, delighted at his ability to pun in +English, and making a motion with one hand toward the nether regions. + +"You mean it?" Pell continued. + +A dark scowl came over the face of Lopez. "Should you doubt my word?" he +inquired. + +"Certainly not," Pell was quick to satisfy him. "Only why didn't you say so +before?" + +"Oil not interests me," the bandit explained. + +"But since to you gentlemen it seem so excitable--I 'ave it." + +"Yes?" from Hardy. + +"Ze little paper. You both want it. _Bueno!_ You shall both 'ave ze chance. +We will, 'ow you say, 'old ze little hauction." + +"Auction?" Pell repeated. + +"'E who bids ze 'ighest," Lopez elucidated, "shall 'ave ze little paper and +shall come wiz me while I show 'im where ze oil she is 'iding." He flicked +the ashes of his cigarette upon the floor, and sat on the corner of the +table, one foot dangling in the air. + +"Gad!" Pell let out. His hands went together, his jaw set. Things were +coming out beautifully. + +Lopez went on: "While 'e who does not bid ze 'ighest shall stay 'ere wiz +Pedro until eight o'clock to-night." + +Hardy was delighted. "You mean the highest bidder will not only get the +place but that you'll show him where the oil is besides?" + +"_Si._ Is it so agree?" + +"I'm for that," Pell said. + +"But I--" Hardy began. + +"I bid one hundred thousand dollars," Pell quickly cried. + +"I'll take it to the courts," Hardy contended. + +"Take what to the courts?" Pell wanted to know. + +"I was detained by force," Hardy said. + +"As long as I get there by eight, what difference does that make?" Pell +asked. + +But Lopez broke in: "One hundred sousand I am offer!" They mustn't +shillyshally this way. He wanted to keep things going. + +"I'll make it one hundred and one!" Hardy cried. + +Without a moment's hesitation, Pell jerked it up to a hundred and ten. + +"A hundred and eleven!" Hardy pushed ahead. + +"A hundred and twenty-five!" Pell yelled. "And what do you know about +that?" + +Hardy was by no means finished. "A hundred and thirty!" he made it. + +Uncle Henry couldn't stand it. While they raised each other's bids, he shot +in between them and managed to say above the din, "And me--gettin' skinned +not only out of my ten thousand, but a million dollars besides!" + +"A hundred and fifty!" Pell was saying. + +"A hundred and fifty-one!" the cautious Hardy added. + +The face of Lopez was a study; but they were so excited that they did not +look at him. Angela rushed to her father and clasped his arm when she +heard his last raise. "That's right, father. Don't let him get it!" + +"Don't worry," he reassured her, and patted her little hand, so warm on his +arm. He turned to Pell. "You city fellers needn't think you can come down +here and put it all over us." + +"Nevertheless," said Morgan Pell, "I'll just bid a hundred and seventy-five +thousand." + +"Then I'll make it a hundred and eighty!" his antagonist stated. + +Quick as a flash, "A hundred and ninety," Pell said. + +"Two hundred, by darn!" yelled Hardy, furious now. + +"Two hundred and--" Pell began; when Lopez, to their amazement, rapped on +the table with his gun, as though he were an auctioneer and this his gavel, +"Señors!" he shouted. "It is enough!" + +Everyone was dumbfounded, "Enough?" Hardy inquired, unbelieving. + +"Too much!" Lopez explained. + +"What's the idea?" Pell, shrewder than before, wanted to know. His brow +contracted. So there was a fly in the ointment, after all! + +"Ze idea, my friend, is zis," Lopez calmly stated. "I am not interest in +pieces of paper. I do not accep' checks. Also I am no damn fool! You sink I +sink you bring back two 'ondred sousand dollar? Two 'ondred sousand +soldier, mebbe! But two 'ondred sousand dollar! Pah!" and he made a gesture +of disgust, and crushed the paper in his hand and let it fall on the floor +under the table. + +"Then what's the idea of this auction in the first place?" Pell asked, mad +through and through that they had been tricked by this Mexican fool. + +Lopez leaned back on the table. "To find out if you gentlemen was rich +enough to make it worth my w'ile to take you wiz me and 'old you for +ransom." His eyes half closed. He was enjoying their discomfiture. There +was nothing he liked more than to spring a surprise like this. + +Pell and Hardy looked at each other, real terror in their faces now. + +"Ransom!" the former cried. + +"It is quite to be seen zat you are," the bandit grinned. "Zis, if I may +speak so, 'as been a lucky day for me!" + +Pell turned to both Hardy and Lopez, and addressed them: "Bluffing, were +you?" + +Lopez was quick to retort: "And was you bluffing when you bidded ze two +'ondred sousand dollars?" + +Hardy was agitated. "I'm afraid we were a bit hasty," he tried to explain +things away. + +This tickled Uncle Henry's bump of humor. He chuckled, and cried, "Ho, ho! +Serves you both gol darn good and right!" He seemed to go into a spasm of +laughter. + +Pell's chief concern now was to get out of the mess--to get away; to have +everything settled. Lopez could probably be dealt with, man to man. + +"Look here," he suggested, in a direct attack, "can't we settle things some +way?" + +"Yes," the bandit replied. "From my headquarters in Chihuahua I will give +you pen, ink, messenger-boy--everysing!" + +"But I--" Pell started to say. + +But Lopez broke in: "You will please listen more and speak less. I 'ave +decide. You I shall 'old for ransom. And," turning to Hardy, "you; and +you," pointing to Uncle Henry, "you who 'ave nossing, I shall leave +be'ind." + +Pell and Hardy felt that the game was over. + +Uncle Henry, on the contrary, was jubilant. "Gee!" he sang out, "and I get +the oil, after all!" + +No one heeded him. Things were too serious still. + +"You wouldn't do this?" Hardy asked of Lopez. + +"No?" the bandit asked. + +Hardy took Angela in his arms. "But what about her--my daughter? You +wouldn't take her, would you?" + +"Not for a million dollars!" Lopez smiled. + +Angela's pride was hurt, "H'm!" she sniffed. + +Lopez looked around him. He saw Lucia, and extended his hand to her. "And +as for you--" he began. + +Lucia was frightened. What was to be her fate? + +"Yes?" she breathed. + +"Life 'as been unkind to you. Too long 'ave you been marry wiz ze tired +business man. You shall come wiz me to ze land of purple mountains, where I +will love you myself personal." + +This animal! Lucia turned from him in horror. "But I don't want to love!" + +"It is not what you want," a new tone came into Lopez's voice. "It is what +_I_ want. I am ze law, 'ere!" + +"Please!" Lucia pleaded. + +Pell stepped forward. "Look here!" he cried. "There must be some way out of +this!" + +"Zere is," said Lopez politely. He pointed to the door. "Zat way." + +Angela clung to her father's neck. "Dad!" she cried, seeing that he was +about to be forced to go--perhaps forever. Tears rolled down her pretty +cheeks. + +Pell saw the seriousness of things now, and turned to Hardy in a strange +camaraderie. "I guess we're up against it," he said. + +"Looks that way," the other replied. In their misfortune they were +curiously united. + +Lopez turned to the whole room. "If you are ready?" he said, and snapped +his fingers as a slave-driver might have done. "Pedro!" he called, "kill ze +first one what make trouble," indicating the entire group of prisoners. +Pedro grinned hopefully. "Zey go. _Bueno!_ Zey go--all of zose ozzers. I +shall follow--wiz my woman." He turned to Lucia, who was standing like a +graven image near the table. "Come! We shall be very 'appy togezzer, you +and me!" + +They were about to pass through the door--all of them--when a noise +startled them; and Gilbert, followed by "Red" and Venustiano, appeared. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +WHEREIN AN OLD FRIENDSHIP COMES TO LIFE, LOPEZ LEARNS A THING OR TWO, AND +FINALLY MAKES A MATCH + + +"What's coming off?" Gilbert said, looking about him, and not a little +surprised to find a Mexican and his adherents in his adobe. + +Lopez turned and gave him a searching look. A light seemed to come into the +bandit's countenance. It was as if someone had put a lantern behind his +face. + +"You!" he cried, enraptured. "You ze nephew zat owns zis ranch?" + +Gilbert came farther into the room. Everyone now had turned back, stood +stock still, listening to these two. + +"Yes," said young Jones. "I am. What of it?" He didn't understand matters +at all. Absent from the house for a little time, he had been called back to +find this medley of people. + +Lopez searched his face again. "Tell me you 'ave been in Cañon Diabalo +sometime? 'Ave you?" + +"Of course. What of it?" Gilbert was mystified. + +"You were there one night, three, mebbe four year ago?" Lopez persisted, +hoping there could be no mistake. + +"I don't remember," was the disappointing answer. + +"You remember poor peon was wounded--near bleed to death?" + +"What?" said Gilbert, light beginning to dawn upon him. + +"You do!" shouted Lopez, delighted. "Where was 'e wounded? Quick! You +tell!" + +"Shot through the shoulder," Gilbert answered promptly. + +"It is you! Don't you know me?" He faced him squarely, threw back his +shoulders, and waited, breathless, for his look of recognition. + +Gilbert studied his face. An instant of doubt, and then, "Why, you're +Pancho Lopez!" he said. + +The bandit was overjoyed. "I am! But don't you recognize who is ze Pancho +Lopez what I am? Look close! Ze clothes, no! Ze face!" + +"Good Lord!" was all Gilbert could utter. + +"Now you know me?" + +"You're the man I found wounded that night!" + +"And whose life you save!" Lopez added. + +"Well, what do you know about that!" young Jones shouted. He was as +surprised and happy as the bandit himself. This man, whom he never thought +to see again in his whole life was standing here, in his own adobe. + +"Now you know me!" Pancho went on. "Ah! my frand! 'Ow glad I am for to see +you some more! Pedro! Venustiano! Ees my friend! Sabbe! Orders like my own! +Serve 'im as you would me!" He went to Gilbert and frankly embraced him in +the Latin fashion. "Eet's 'ell of a good thing I reckernize you!" he +laughed, hugging his old friend close. He could never forget his kindness +that night so many years ago; and to think he had run across his deliverer +now! + +Everyone was relieved. Their troubles would now be ended. + +"And you ain't going to rob him, after all?" Uncle Henry piped up. + +"Rob 'im? Rob my frand?" Lopez repeated. + +"Ain't you?" Uncle Henry cried. + +The bandit looked at him, wonder in his eyes. "No! _Ciertamente_ no!" + +"Hooray!" the old man yelled, and would have risen in his chair could he +have done so. + +"Say, who the 'ell is that?" said Lopez, addressing himself to Gilbert. + +"He's my uncle," young Jones answered. + +"Uncle?" the bandit said, unbelieving. + +"Uncle Henry," old man Smith wanted it to be straight. + +"He shall go free," Lopez announced. + +Hardy thought this a good omen. They would all be set free, no doubt. He +faced Lopez bravely. "Ah, then it's all right," he said, a sickly smile on +his face. + +"All right?" said Lopez. + +"Yes," Hardy said. + +Lopez considered for a moment, hand on chin, his eyes again two narrow +slits. "Not so fast," he cautioned. "It ees all right for 'im," nodding at +Uncle Henry, "an' all right for 'im," indicating Gilbert; "but for you--" +He let one hand fly out, and a resounding slap on Hardy's eager face was +the result. Then he turned to Pedro. "Take them all out--_pronto_! 'Ees all +right!' Like 'ell ees all right!" + +Hardy flushed scarlet. His first impulse was to strike back; but how could +he? Those guns pointed at him from every direction. He was as powerless as +a baby. But his hour would come. This dastardly Mexican bandit should +suffer for that blow. + +Yet like one of a line of sheep he was obliged to follow Pedro out of the +door. It was a humiliating moment. Gilbert and Lopez were left alone. + +"Now we shall visit," the bandit said, and put his arm through Gilbert's. +"Ah! it ees so good to see you, my frand!" + +Gilbert was still mystified. "Yes," he said, "but I don't understand how +you, a peon, became the Pancho Lopez so soon." + +"Ah! it ees so easy!" laughed the bandit. + +"Easy!" Gilbert repeated. + +"_Si._ My frand"--his hand went to Gilbert's shoulder--"ees great +opportunity, ees revolution, for make speed. When I got well, I find I do +not enjoy my work, which are 'ard. Business? Business, she make me sick! I +say for myself, 'What to do?' Zen, suddenly I sink, 'I shall be soldado!' +Soldier which shall be giv ze 'orse, ze gun, ze woman, and nozzing to do +but shoot a little sometimes! Ees a wonderful life, my frand!" The smoke of +his cigarette curled to the ceiling. + +"I didn't find it so," young Jones said, and smiled in his dry way. + +"Pah! It's too many damn rules in your army. For us who make revolution, +no! We sleep so late we damn please. We fight some when we feel so. If we +find ze hacienda, we take all what we choose. When we need money, we go to +city and rob ze bank--we 'elp for ourselves food from ze store, shoes, +clothes, candy, ze cigarette, agauriante--" he made as if to drink from an +imaginary glass--"booze! An' if anybody 'ide anysing we cut 'is fingers off +so's 'e tell us. She is one fine life! You like for try? I make you +general! Come!" + +His face was radiant. The recollection of his army life filled him with +joy. + +But Gilbert shook his head. "Not for me, thank you," he smiled. + +Lopez merely shrugged his shoulders. "So! I was afraid!" + +"But how did you get ahead so fast?" young Jones wanted to know. "That's +what sticks me." + +The bandit laughed. "Zat is simple. You see, one day ze lieutenant she are +killed. Soon I become a lieutenant. Nex' day, ze captain. So I am captain, +Byme-bye, ze major--so I became major. Pretty damn soon ze colonel--so I am +colonel. I kill ze general for myself." As he spoke, he lifted the chair +at the table, and brought it down on the floor with a bang. + +"What!" cried Gilbert, at this description of an opera-bouffe army. + +"But we shall not talk of me," Lopez said. "We shall spik of you. 'Ow you +been since I seen you, what?" He tossed away his cigarette. + +Gilbert offered him another of his own. + +"No, gratias; zat's for peon. Zese from ze swell hotel National an +Torreon--zay are good. I steal zem myself," pulling out his case and +lighting another. He pushed his chair so that he could see young Jones +better. "Well, old frand, how you feel zis long time? Eh?" + +"I?" said Gilbert. He smiled a little, and looked significantly about the +room. + +Lopez caught the look. "So?" he said, sympathy in his tone. "It ees too +bad." He paused, letting the smoke curl over his head again. "Ah! I see her +now! You are ze nephew of Uncle Henry which owns zis rancho which are to be +foreclosed by moggidge." Gilbert nodded. "H'm! Zat shall make her all +different some more! Axplain for me, so I shall know." + +Gilbert replied: "There's not much to tell. I borrowed ten thousand from +my uncle; ten more from Hardy--the tall man, and our neighbor. He's a loan +shark--you know, in a mortgage. I go to the war. When I come home, cattle +all gone. No money. That's all." He made a gesture as though the world were +tumbling about him. + +"I see," said Lopez. "And wiz ze strange ideas of your country, it makes +you feel bad." + +"Well, it seems like a pretty good chunk of trouble to hand an average +citizen," young Jones said. + +"Trouble?" Lopez let out the word in wrath. "You are no trouble. You only +sink you are." + +"You don't call this trouble? If it isn't then I don't know what trouble +is!" + +"Not really trouble." He came over and put his hand on Gilbert's shoulder. +"Only trouble you are made for yourself because you go by law what are +foolish instead of sense what are wise." He gave him an affectionate pat. +Just then Uncle Henry wheeled himself in, neither inquiring nor caring if +he was wanted or not. + +"Well, I sure told 'em their right names for once, gol darn 'em!" he +chuckled. Lopez glared at him. "Pardon me! My mistake!" the invalid +apologized; and rolled into the alcove. "So, you sink you have much +trouble," Lopez continued, as though the invalid had not come in to +interrupt them. The clock struck five. He listened to it, and then said, "I +have time to spare--" He went to the window and looked out. + +"But if you've been raiding around here," Uncle Henry said from his +seclusion, "won't the rangers be after you?" + +"I have ze scouts who watch," the bandit said. He turned to Gilbert again. +"Suppose I stop here and prove to you who sink you have trouble, zat really +you have no trouble at all?" + +The young man looked at him incredulously. "You mean you can get me out of +this mess?" he asked. + +"Sure! In one half hour," the bandit was convinced. + +"Really?" + +"In one half hour your trouble go poof!" He made a ring of smoke and +watched it fade away. "And you shall be 'appy man. If I do zat, what zen?" + +"If you do that," said the other, "they'll have to tie me down to keep me +from kissing you!" + +"Good!" laughed Lopez. "She is did." + +There was a moment's pause. Then, "But how are you going to do this +miracle?" Gilbert was anxious to find out. + +"Zat is for you to leave to me. Well, what you say?" + +"I say yes, of course!" + +"_Bueno!_ We begin," said the bandit. He called through the door: "Pedro! +Bring zem all in again." + +Uncle Henry was curious, "What are you going to do?" + +"You shall see," was all Lopez answered. + +Angela was the first to file into the room. Uncle Henry glanced at her. +"What are you going to do about her?" he asked. + +Lopez looked around, "Her?" he said. + +"Her!" repeated Uncle Henry. + +"What 'as her to do wiz it?" the bandit inquired. + +"Why, she wants to marry him," Uncle Henry revealed, pointing to his +nephew. "That's what started the whole jamboree." + +Lopez looked astonished. "So?" he said. + +"Uh--huh!" + +The bandit glanced at Gilbert. "But 'e does not love 'er," he said, nodding +toward Angela. + +"Certainly not!" Gilbert was instantly saying, and glared at his uncle. +The latter, as usual, plunged straight ahead, as the others now gathered +about the room. "He," meaning "Red," "loves her. _He_," he nodded toward +his nephew, "loves _her_," pointing to Lucia Pell. "And she loves him," +nodding back to Gilbert. + +"Shut up! How many times must I tell you to--" + +"But she," went on Uncle Henry, just as if nothing had been said, and +pointing to Lucia, "is married to him," indicating Pell. "Which makes it a +hell of a mess all around!" He leaned back in his chair as if he had done a +good day's work. + +Gilbert could scarcely restrain himself. Again he wanted to lay violent +hands upon him--he wished he could. "Be quiet, won't you?" he breathed. + +"Not me!" Uncle Henry persisted. "I've gotter tell the truth." + +"Yes, but--" Gilbert began. + +"I don't wanter get shot," the old man declared. + +Lopez turned to Gilbert. "Is it true? You love her?" his eyes going to +Lucia. + +How could he tell the truth? "Of course I do not," he affirmed. Then he +went close to his uncle. "What did you do all this again for?" + +"He says he can fix it," Uncle Henry said. "Let him try. He's done swell so +far. Personally, I got a lot o' confidence in that feller. He's slick, he +is!" + +It was easy to be seen that the bandit was not satisfied with the answer +Gilbert had given him. He had been slyly watching both him and Lucia. Now, +he said, looking at them both: "So!" And old man Smith started to break in +once more; but Lopez went on: "Is it true?" + +"What makes you think so?" Gilbert wanted to know. + +"It is in her eyes--and yours," the Mexican stated. "I shall miss her. She +is very beautiful. However, what is one woman between frands?" He laughed a +bitter laugh. "You shall have her." + +Uncle Henry cried out: "But he can't have her. She's married." + +"Ees too bad," said Lopez, nonchalantly. "But nozzing to get excite about." + +"Nozzing to get excite about!" mimicked Uncle Henry. + +"No. But ees more to be did zan I 'ave sought. But I 'ave promise I shall +make you a 'appy man, my frand," again to Gilbert. "_Bueno!_ I keep zat +promise. You have gave me your word zat you will not interfere. Is it not +so?" + +"Yes, but I--" Gilbert hardly knew what to say. + +"It is for you to keep zat word as I keep mine," Lopez said. Then, to Uncle +Henry he went on, "I shall start wiz you. Now, Pedro!" + +"_Si_," answered the faithful minion of the bandit, stepping forward. + +"Remember," his master commanded. "Shoot ze first one which interrup'." + +"_Si_," said Pedro again, and grinned broadly and pleasantly. If there was +one thing he liked, it was the possibility of trouble with prisoners. He +knew how to bring them to terms. He had been doing it for years. + +Lopez got down to business. "Now, look here, Oncle Hennery: my frand 'ave +borrow money which 'e 'ave lost? Is zat true?" + +"Yes, sir," answered Uncle Henry promptly, and happy to have been addressed +so familiarly by the bandit. He felt that his triumph was now complete. + +"'E cannot be happy until 'e pay you back." + +"No, sir," sitting up straight in his chair. + +"I shall give you ten sousand dollar," was the bandit's surprising remark. + +Uncle Henry thought he could not have heard aright. "Ten thousand--! Yes, +but where are you going to get it?" he inquired, a bit dazed. + +"Do not ask me." He caught sight of "Red." "Ze next is you." He appraised +him rapidly, and then said to Gilbert, "'E is frand for you, no?" + +"He certainly is," answered young Jones promptly. "About the best I ever +had." He wasn't going to see anything happen to the faithful "Red." He'd +have protected him with his own life. + +Lopez liked this, "You love zat girl?" he said to the foreman, meaning, of +course, Angela. + +"What?" the latter cried out. + +"Well, I don't go around advertising the fact," "Red" told Lopez, a bit +mortified that his heart affairs should be thus openly discussed. + +"Ze girl zat spoiled my dinner," the bandit laughed. + +"Oh!" cried Angela, who thought she had done so well. + +"And she love you?" Lopez went on. + +"I don't either!" Angela protested, speaking before "Red" had a chance. + +"Now, Angela!" said "Red," his face the color of his flaming hair. + +His dream seemed so close. Was it possible that the only girl he ever had +adored was going to see it wrecked? + +Angela weakened a bit at his tone. "I like him," she told the bandit. "But +I don't--love him." + +"Ah! but you do!" Lopez insisted. + +"I do?" said Angela, wide-eyed. + +"I have so decide!" the bandit stated. + +"What?" cried Angela, not knowing what he could be driving at. + +"Also you make love to my frand, Señor Jones." + +"Oh!" cried the frightened girl now. + +"And you have annoyed him in other ways." + +"I have?" she wailed, terrified to the breaking point. + +"Red" intervened. "Listen, Angela--" he began. + +She stamped her little foot, and was peppery at once. "I won't!" + +"You don't love him," "Red" affirmed, for her. + +"Oh!" Angela burst out, all confusion. + +"No more than you loved any of the rest of 'em," "Red" went on. + +"Keep still!" the girl cried. "Keep still! I think you're dreadful!" + +"It's because they're better looking than me," her slave went right on. +"I'm the one for you to marry, Angy, and you know it!" He had faith in +himself at last--she couldn't stop him now. + +"No!" Angela contradicted. + +"Aw, come on!" poor "Red" begged. + +But she stamped her foot again. "No--no--_no_!" + +"Say you will!" "Red" pleaded, almost distracted. + +But Angela was adamant. "I won't--I won't listen to you another minute!" +She turned her back on him, blushing to the roots of her hair. + +Lopez had been highly amused at the girl's pique and "Red's" honest +interest in her. He came to his assistance. "We shall be patient. She is +mad. And mad lady sink not wiz ze 'ead, but only wiz ze tongue." He faced +the pouting Angela. "Señorita, leesten to me. 'Ow old are you?" + +"None of your business!" was the instant answer. + +"Twenty-eight? Twenty-nine?" Lopez pressed, smiling. + +"Certainly not! I'm only twenty!" She was swift with the denial. + +"Ah! I sought so," said Lopez, much pleased. + +"What?" Angela said, not understanding him. + +"In Mexico you would now be married five years--" the bandit explained. + +"What?" screamed Angela. + +"An' have six children." + +"Oh!" The very thought made Angela ill. + +"You are not pretty--none too pretty!" Lopez said. + +The girl was now both hurt and amazed. "What's that?" she cried, all her +feminine anger aroused. + +"You will soon grow fat," Lopez continued, looking her over carefully. + +Angela pulled out her handkerchief and brushed her eyes. "Oh!" + +"Like ze tub!" said Lopez, inexorably, spreading his arms to indicate an +immense diameter. + +"Oh!" was all poor Angela could get out. + +"Also, you 'ave ze bad temper." + +"Oh! Oh!" Sobs now came from her. + +"So, if you do not marry soon, it will be too late." + +"What's that?" she looked up, not able to believe she had understood. + +"Now, my frand 'ere, 'e wish to marry wiz you. Why, I do not know." Lopez +grinned broadly. He knew this would be the last stroke. He was right. + +"Oh!" gasped Angela. + +"Shall he come wiz me to Mexico," the bandit piled it on, "I will give 'im +planty wives, young, beautiful...." + +"Oh!" again came from the distracted Angela. + +"But he want you. And so ..." + +"You're going to force me to marry him. I see!" She turned to the listening +"Red." "And you'd let him force you on me, like this?" + +"It ain't my fault, Angela," the foreman assured her. "I didn't know he was +going to do this! You know that." + +Lopez issued his ultimatum. + +"I am not going to force you to marry 'im. You are going to choose to marry +'im." + +The girl was on the brink of despair. + +"Never! Never! Never!" she screamed, and stamped her foot vigorously. + +"Ah! my young lady. We shall see." He turned abruptly, and called, "Pedro!" + +"_Si_," the faithful one answered, and came to his master. + +Lopez then addressed Angela: "I shall not force you to marry 'im," +indicating "Red" with a wave of the hand. "I shall insist only zat if you +do not marry wiz 'im, you shall marry wiz Pedro." + +Directly behind the girl stood the fearful Pedro. His face was the dirtiest +that had ever crossed the border into Arizona. His teeth were sparse, his +hair a tangled mass of grit and dirt; his hands like violent mud-pies. The +suit he wore was stained and greasy--he had slept in it for many nights. +Altogether, he was about the most hopeless-looking individual a girl could +be asked to look upon. At his master's words, he grinned a fiendishly happy +grin, spread out his arms as if to embrace the charming Angela, and, if +possible, press a kiss upon her rosy cheek. But Angela, with one look at +him, collapsed into "Red's" waiting arms. He seemed like heaven to her now. + +"Ah!" yelled Lopez. + +"'Red'! save me, save me!" Angela cried in melodramatic fashion. + +Pedro, seeing how far from popular he was with the young lady, walked +disconsolately to the door. + +"So! You do love 'im, after all!" the bandit said to Angela. + +"I never thought I could love anybody so much!" the girl replied. "Oh, +'Red'!" And she hugged him again. + +"You mean it?" asked the delighted "Red." "You're not saying it +because..." + +But Lopez broke in: "She is saying it because it is ze truth. In pleasure, +a woman go to ze man she sink she love. In fear, she go to ze man she +really love.... Well, you really want her? She is yours. And I 'ope you +will be 'appy. At least, I 'ave done my part." He smiled his most +enchanting smile. + +"You have--you certainly have, and I am mighty obliged to you," said the +grateful "Red." + +"You are welcome. I like you. But remember zis: Eet is your wish--not +mine.... Don't blame me." + +"Red" could stand this now: he had his Angela. And tucked in his big arm, +he took her outdoors. + +As soon as they had gone, Hardy turned to Lopez. "Look here!" he shouted, +"I guess I've got something to say about this. That's my daughter, whose +affairs you've been so kindly fixing up, and--" + +Lopez gave him one look that closed his mouth suddenly. "Don't shoot, +Pedro," he said. "Well?" + +Hardy cast one eye at Pedro's lifted gun, and got out only one word, +"Nothing." A meeker man never lived. + +"From what my frand tell me, I can see now 'ow you make your money," the +bandit told Hardy. "You are a robber." + +This was too much for Hardy--for any man with a spark of manhood left in +him. + +"I am not!" he denied. "I'm a business man." + +"You are a loan fish," the bandit pressed. + +"A what?" + +"A loan fish! You loan money. And when ze people cannot pay, you convict +zem and take zeir ranchos." + +The lean, sharklike Hardy looked a little depressed at this accusation. + +"Well, if they can't pay, it isn't my fault," was all he could say. + +"It isn't zeir fault, too, is it?" Lopez was curious to know. + +"What's that?" Hardy said. + +"So you take ze rancho from my friend, Señor Jones. A nice sort of neighbor +you are, you beeg fish!" + +"I'm not to blame because he's a rotten business man, am I?" Hardy tried to +set himself right. + +Lopez looked at him scornfully. "How do you know 'e is a rotten business +man?" + +"Why, the fact that I've had to foreclose the mortgage shows that," Hardy +smiled. + +"Not at all. Señor Jones 'ave been away to war. He been away fighting for +'is country." + +"Well, that isn't my fault." + +"No." There was profound contempt in the little word. "He give up 'is +business to go away to fight to save you, while you stay be'ind to rob 'im. +Is zat fair?" + +Hardy gave a gesture of disdain. "I'm not talking about what's fair, or +what's not fair. There's lots of things in this world that ain't right. I +am doing only what the law allows." He thought this cleared his skirts. It +was the refuge of every scoundrel. + +"I do not speak about ze law," Lopez followed him up. "I am doing only what +is fair. If I were you, I should be ashamed for myself! You love your +country?" + +"Certainly I do," the other answered. + +"Like 'ell! You love yourself!" And Lopez deliberately turned his back on +him. + +"Now, wait a minute!" Hardy begged. He could scarcely have this insult +added to the host of others. "I do love my country. I'm a good American." + +"Yet you would rob ze man who fight for your country! Bah!" The bandit +waved his hand in disgust. + +Hardy saw he was in a bad hole. "There's some truth in what you said," he +admitted, trying to crawl out. "He _has_ fought for America. And I'm +willing to do the right thing by him." + +"You will?" yelled Uncle Henry, wheeling close to him. + +"If I get this place, I'm willing to give him a good bonus," Hardy +continued. + +Uncle Henry leaned forward, all eagerness. "How much?" he cried. + +"Say, five hundred dollars," the loan shark generously offered. + +"I knew there was a ketch in it!" Uncle Henry said, and rolled back in the +shadows of the alcove. + +Lopez had been listening intently. Now he stepped up to Hardy and said: +"Señor Santy Claus, now I understand why it is so 'ard for your country to +get ze soldier. In Mexico, ze soldiers would take all ze money and give ze +people a bonus ... per'aps." He puffed his cigarette. "I am done wiz you." +He turned abruptly to Lucia. "Now I shall come to you." + +She started. + +"You love my frand, Señor Jones?" + +Gilbert intervened. He could not stand this. "I don't know what you're +getting at," he said to Lopez, "nor how you're going to get it. But you +must see that you can't discuss a thing like this here. It's +impossible--utterly impossible." He was suffering vicariously for Lucia. + +Pell sneered. "Your delicacy is somewhat delayed," he murmured. + +"I don't mind business discussions. But there's been too much insinuation +to-day. I won't have any more of it," Jones said. + +Lopez looked affectionately at the young fellow, "But if I would make you +'appy...." he said. + +"I don't want to be made happy at a cost so great," Gilbert affirmed. + +Lucia's lovely head drooped, and she moved to the window. + +"It shall be but a moment," the bandit promised. Gilbert walked to the +fireplace so that his face would not be seen. Lopez went over to Lucia. +"Señora, you do not wish to speak of love. Why?" + +"I am married," was the answer. + +"And because you are marry, you cannot speak of love?... Eet is strange +customs. Tell me, señora, what does your marriage service say?" + +"One promises to love, honor, and obey, in sickness and in health, till +death shall part." + +Lopez smiled. "All zat you promise?" + +"Yes," very low. + +"And yet you 'ave divorce!" + +"Yes," lower still. + +"So zat, after 'aving promise to love, honor, and hobey," he tapped off one +finger at a time, and looked as if he wanted to get this mysterious matter +straight in his mind, "until death, you 'ave ze right to break your word +because ze judge say you can? Is zat it?" + +"Y-y-y-yes. I suppose so." + +Lopez smoked a moment, looked at the ceiling, and then said, "Well, why not +break it yourself and save ze trouble!" + +"It's the law," Lucia told him. + +"Humph! An' what does ze 'usband promise? An' 'as 'e kept 'is promise?" +There was no reply. "Is plain 'e 'as not. Zen why should you keep your word +to 'im, when 'e 'as broken 'is word to you? Eh? Why do you not go before ze +judge and 'ave your promise broken? Why ees it ze custom of your country? +Why? Why?" He looked bewildered. + +Lucia could say nothing. What was there to say? Suddenly Uncle Henry's +sharp voice was heard: "I'll tell you why!" + +Lopez turned to him. "And why?" + +"She ain't got no money," Uncle Henry informed the room. + +Lucia lifted her face. "Oh, do you think that would make any difference?" + +"So!" Lopez was interested, "'Er 'usband? 'E 'as money?" + +"He's richer'n mud," Uncle Henry declared. + +Pell started to speak; but Pedro stopped him by lifting his gun. + +"How much?" Lopez asked, not noticing. + +Uncle Henry was bursting with information. "He's worth millions, the big +bum!" + +The bandit's eyes opened wide. "Millions!" he repeated. He looked at Lucia. +"Yet 'e give nozzing to ze wife. H'm! Señora, tell me.... Does a widow in +your country get any of 'er 'usband's money when 'e dies?" + +Pell, listening intently, drew a sharp breath. He caught the significance +of the question. His lips contracted. This damned bandit was capable of +anything. + +Lopez paid no attention to him. He asked for enlightenment from Hardy. +"Señor Loan Fish, do you know?" + +Pell ventured to get out part of a sentence. "Say, what the ..." But +Pedro's active gun came against his ribs, and he paused, as who would not? + +"She gets it all--the wife," Hardy told Lopez. "That is, if the husband +hasn't made a will." + +"'Ave you?" the bandit turned on Pell. "'Ave you made a will?" His tone was +incisive. "Do not lie." + +"No, damn you!" Pell in his rage cried out. "But I'm going to, the first +min--" + +"Good!" smiled Lopez. + +Pell was puzzled, "What do you mean ... good?" + +Lopez did not answer him; instead, he addressed Lucia: "Señora, your +'usband 'e is bad frand for you. 'E beat you, sometimes?" + +Lucia was startled. "Why do you think that?" she asked. + +"I 'ave known ladies what are beaten. It is in ze eyes ... as in dogs and +'orses." He waited a second before he went on, came close to her, and +peered earnestly into her eyes. "_Si_, I sink your 'usband a evil man." He +turned on Pell again. "Say, who are you? Your business, I mean?" + +"I'm in Wall Street," Pell said, in a low voice. What in God's name was +this bandit going to do? What was his game? + +"Wall Street? 'Aven't you never done anything honest? You go to ze war, +per'aps, like my frand, Señor Jones?" + +"I was in Washington," Pell winced. "A dollar-a-year man." + +"You use your money, your power, to escape ze war? So! You are not only a +skindler, but a coward. While my frand fight, you stay to home, to torture +ze woman, H'm! I see it all now. Nice boy, you!" + +Pell could scarcely articulate now, but he managed to get out, "By God, +I've had enough of this--just about enough!" + +Lopez looked at him coldly, a glint in his eye that should have warned +Pell. "Do not worry," he said. "You are about through." He turned to his +friend, Gilbert. "And now, my frand, you shall go." Young Jones did not +understand him. + +"Go?" he asked. "What do you mean?" + +Lopez looked at him calmly, "I 'ave much business to do. You shall not +'ear, nor see, because for you is love, romance! Not business, which are +soddid. Leave all zat for me, which am a business man." He smiled upon +Lucia. "As I said, life 'as been unkind to you, señora. Ze silly law ... ze +foolish custom ... 'ave been around your 'eart, around your soul, like +chains. But fear no more," he assured her. "For I, your frand, shall make +you also 'appy." He put his arm around her. + +She was fearful of his plans. "What are you going to do?" she cried. + +Lopez laughed. "Wait and see. Life shall be yours. And love! Planty money! +All what your 'eart desire. Now go...." + +Pedro started to show them out the door. Gilbert, seeing the movement, +said: + +"But I don't understand ..." + +"I shall call you soon," Lopez said. "Zen you shall see. Now go." He got +between them, and affectionately directed them to the door. + +Gilbert turned to him. "You aren't going to ..." + +The bandit smiled. "Do not worry. I shall do no 'arm. Only good. Please go, +my frand." + +Lucia and Gilbert, deeply puzzled, obeyed, and followed Pedro into the open +air. What did this portend? There had been a strange look in the eyes of +Pancho Lopez. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +WHEREIN A MAN PROVES HIMSELF A CRAVEN, A SHOT RINGS OUT, AND THE BAD MAN +EXPLAINS ONE LITTLE HOUR + + +A heavy silence fell upon the men who were left in the room. The bandit, +unconcerned, puffed his cigarette. Hardy and Pell felt like rats in a trap. +Only Uncle Henry was passive. In the tense stillness, the clock could be +heard ticking on and on. Pell was beginning to crack beneath the strain. +Suddenly he began to pace the floor, his hands behind his back. No tiger in +a cage was ever more impatient in his captivity. + +"If you want money," he finally got out, "for heaven's sake, tell me how +much, and ..." + +Lopez quickly interrupted him. His fury boiled over at the insinuation. "Be +still!" he cried. "You will please be quiet. I 'ave business to sink out +which are 'ard." + +Pell was equally angry. "Why, damn you ..." he sputtered. + +He should have known better. Coldly Lopez took him in. "I 'ave been patient +wiz you--too patient. I see zat now." The other returned his keen gaze, and +for an instant he did not quail; but finally he could stand the strain no +longer. His eyes fell away, and for the first time in all their bitter +encounter he felt himself sinking. A terrible uncertainty came over him. +This Mexican, this beast, was going to do something desperate. There was +not the shadow of a doubt about that. He must go carefully: he must not +lose his self-control. To do so would be madness. + +Luckily, Uncle Henry broke the tension just then: "Am I going to get my +money back?" he cried out. And his chair projected itself into their midst. + +Lopez faced Hardy, across the table. "Señor Loan Fish," he said, "if my +frand, 'e pay you ze money, zen ze rancho belong to him?" + +"If he pays me before eight o'clock," the other replied promptly. + +"Señor Wall Street," the bandit now addressed Pell, "you 'ave ten sousand +dollar. I want it." + +Pell was amazed. "But I--" + +Lopez snapped his fingers. Pedro, who came back at that very moment, took +the money from Pell, and watched his master closely for further +instructions as to what to do. Lopez nodded toward Smith. + +"For 'im," he said. + +"For me?" cried Uncle Henry, joyfully. + +"I must make my frand 'appy," the bandit said. Pedro gave the money to +Uncle Henry. The latter grabbed it as a child might have grabbed a cooky. + +Lopez turned to Pell. "Now--you is rob." To Hardy he said: "You is paid," +and to Uncle Henry, "An' you get your money back. _Bueno!_ Ees finish." + +Pell was cynical. "I'll say that's service," he murmured; and a sardonic +grin came to his thin lips. Perhaps the bandit was joking, after all. But +damn these jokes that kept one in long after school! + +Uncle Henry, however, had a strange apprehension, and wheeled about, facing +Lopez. + +"You ain't goin' to take it back from me, are you?" he inquired. + +"No, Ooncle Hennery," the bandit laughed, "she is yours for keeps. Zat is +all. You may go!" And he waved him out. "And you," to Hardy. "Pedro, show +zem into ze open space!" + +"'Im too?" asked Pedro, indicating Morgan Pell who stood, as though made of +stone, in one corner. + +"_Poco tiempo!_" the bandit said. + +"_Debommultalo!_" his henchman replied. + +"_Si_," Lopez smiled. And Pedro got the invalid and the lanky Hardy through +the door, as a woman might have swept two geese from her path. + +Left alone with the bandit, Pell remarked: + +"Look here, there must be some way to settle this thing." But he had grave +fears. + +"To zat, I 'ave come at last," the bandit replied with an emphasis that +could not be mistaken. + +"You have?" Pell's voice was weak. + +"It shall cost me planty money. I could 'ave tooken you wiz me for +ransom--'elluva big ransom--a million dollar, mebbe. But I am not soddid!" +He laughed, and rubbed his hands together. + +"You aren't going to hold me for ransom?" Pell questioned, relief in his +voice. + +"No." + +"What--what are you doing to do?" + +The reply was as swift as an arrow. "Kill you." + +Pell did not believe what he heard. + +"Kill me?" he repeated, his head on one side, like a bird listening, and +pointing to his chest. + +"_Si._" Lopez had never used a politer tone. + +"You--you're joking." There was a crack in Pell's voice. + +"Joking?" + +"You must be!" huskily. "I thought so all along--now I'm sure of it." + +The bandit faced him, and threw his cigarette over his shoulder in the +chimney-place. "Do I look like a joker?" + +"You sit there, like that, and talk of killing me in cold blood?" + +Lopez took him in through half-closed lids. "I do not like you. Nobody like +you. Alive, you are no good. Dead, you make two people which I love 'appy. +You get me, Señor Wall Street?" + +"Oh, I see," cried Pell, wildly, and doing his best to keep his legs from +giving way, "you would kill me so that my wife can marry this Gilbert +Jones?" A sickly smile curled around his mouth. + +Lopez nodded. "_Si, señor._" + +"If that's all, I'll give her a divorce!" + +"You weel give her a divorce?" Lopez repeated, pretending to be much +interested and pleased. + +Pell saw a gleam of hope through the darkness of this moment. "Yes," came +breathlessly from him. "Then she can marry him. Don't you see? If that's +all you want--he can have her." He was shaking now in every limb. Escape +was almost his. He knew he could not be done away with. "I'll give her to +him!" He staggered toward Lopez, "I will! I swear I will!" he screamed, his +words reaching a high falsetto. + +Lopez rose. "I would look at you once before I shoot," he said slowly, and +took in the other's cringing form. + +"What?" Pell said. + +Disgust was on the features of the bandit--contempt and unbelievable +loathing. + +"I 'ave met mans which would not fight for zeir money," he said with great +deliberation, his lip curled. "I 'ave met mans which would not fight for +zeir lives. But I 'ave never before met ze man which would not fight for +'is woman." + +Pell saw that he was doomed now. He made one final desperate attempt. "But +if you--shoot me--you'll be hanged!" + +"Ha!" laughed Lopez. "If I am ever caught, I shall be 'anged many times!" + +"I'm an American citizen!" shrilled Pell. + +"I 'ave kill many American citizens," replied Lopez, without the slightest +compunction. + +Pell wrung his hands. "My Goverment will pursue you!" + +"You are mistaken. Your Government will watchfully wait. We kill American +citizen. Your Government write us beautiful letter about it.... But we have +waste time!" He drew his gun. + +As Lopez leveled the weapon. Pell all but dropped on his knees. "Wait!" he +cried. "I'll give you money! Plenty of money! A million dollars! Yes, two +million!" It could not be that so shameful a fate was to be his. + +"It is not zat we want money," the bandit replied. "It is zat we _don't_ +want _you_." + +Terror seized poor Pell. "But for God's sake," he wailed, "you wouldn't do +that! You couldn't! Without even a chance for my life. At least fight me +fair!" His voice seemed far away to him--like the voice of another being +from a distant world. + +"Fair?" Lopez rolled the word over. + +"Give me a gun, too!" the fool prayed. + +"Give you a gun! Pedro!" The man had evidently been just outside the door, +and came in at once. "Pedro, you 'ear?" And Pedro grinned. + +"Yes! Give me a chance!" + +"I shall never understand ze American idea. I give you a gun, you say?" + +"Yes! That's the least you can do!" Pell was weeping now. + +"But if I should give you a gun, you might shoot me wiz it!" Lopez laughed. + +"You won't?" + +"I am no damn fool!" the bandit cried. And he deliberately raised his gun +again. + +"You're not going to kill me? No! for the love of God, don't!" He plunged +forward, groveling at Lopez's feet. A woman in a melodrama could not have +begged harder for mercy. "Spare me!" were the words that fell from his +pitiful lips. "For God's sake, spare me! I'll do anything! Go anywhere! He +can have her! You can have her! Her, and all the money I've got, if only +you'll spare my life!" + +The bandit looked down in utter disgust at the cringing form. Never had he +seen anything in the world that he detested more. Pell's fingers were on +the bandit's boots. + +"I did not know zat even a dog could be so yellow," he said. Then he +turned to Pedro. "I do not 'unt rabbits. You kill 'im, Pedro." And he would +not look again on the miserable specimen of a man that wallowed there on +the floor. + +"Ah! for the love of God!" came from Pell, who had half risen. At that +instant Pedro shot from his hip at the debased creature. The form stiffened +and collapsed like a bag, falling partially under the table. + +"It is a good deed," said Lopez, turning. "He was evil man." + +The shot had been heard without. "Red," Gilbert, Hardy, and a few Mexicans +rushed in at the sound. + +"Who shot?" cried the former. + +"Pedro," said Lopez. + +"But what was he shooting at?" "Red" asked. + +Lopez smiled. "Only ze 'usband." + +"What!" cried "Red." He turned and saw the body of Pell lying sprawled on +the floor, and horror came over him. "You've killed him!" His voice was +husky. + +"I 'ave. Most enjoyishly!" said Lopez, lighting a cigarette. + +Gilbert went over and stared down at the mute frame. "He's dead," he +announced. "Completely. Pedro never misses," was the bandit's only +comment. + +"But to kill a man--like that! In cold blood!" Hardy gasped. "Oh, it's +horrible!" + +"Why not?" Lopez wanted to know. "Ze skindler, ze coward what beat his +wife. Was evil man." What white-livered folk these Americans were! + +Gilbert looked down at Pell's body, which had now, in death, a certain +curious dignity. "But don't you see what you've done?" + +Lopez looked at him in bland amazement. "You wouldn't still fool around wiz +ze foolish law, ze silly court?" he inquired. "Do you not see 'ow much +better is my way? One hour ago you 'ave no money, no rancho, no woman. One +little hour! Ze money she is paid, ze rancho she is yours, and ze woman +what you want to marry is free for do so!" He looked Gilbert in the eyes, +and came close to him. "Tell me, 'ave I not keep my promise? 'Ave I not +make you, in one little hour, a 'appy man?" + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +WHEREIN THE BAD MAN CANNOT UNDERSTAND THE GOOD MAN AND DISAPPEARS; AND A +DEAD MAN STIRS + + +Immediately after, Lucia came in. She saw the body of her husband, the legs +drawn up a bit, the arms stretched out, the wounded head turned so that the +blood flowing from the forehead could not be seen. Only a few moments +before, this limp, pitiful object had been speaking to her--calling her by +name. It seemed incredible that Pell was powerless now to harm her. Brute +though he had been, he gained, in this awesome instant, a strange glory, as +the dead always do. The splendor of that universal experience was suddenly +his; and, even lying there like a discarded meal-sack, he took on something +of the pomp of a cardinal who had died. Never, of course, had she respected +him more; and though she could not bring herself to shed a tear, she +looked down at the still body, huddled in a heap, and craved one more word +with him. No matter what has happened between a man and a woman; no matter +what tragic hours they have known, when the moment of separation comes, +there is always that wish to have explained a little more, to have taken a +different course in all one's previous actions. It was not that she blamed +herself; she had nothing on her conscience. But there was an instinctive +dread at meeting the certain pain of this crisis. + +She could not believe that he had gone from her like this. She had read of +people being blotted out in such fashion; but that Fate should bear down +upon her household, that the lightning should strike within the borders of +her garden, seemed impossible. Like everyone else, she never dreamed that a +great tragedy could come to her. Just as we never think of ourselves as +meeting with a street accident, so she never thought of this catastrophe. +Yet there he lay, the symbol of that inexorable terror that moves through +the world. + +She went over quietly to a chair near the table and sat down. She hid her +face in her hands. She did not wish to see that silent form again; yet he +had been her husband, and her place, she knew, was by his side, in death +even more than in life. How the world had changed for her in this little +hour! + +She had come into the room just as Pancho was finishing his talk with +Gilbert; and she caught the force of his words. Now she heard him saying +something else. + +"And now, what you say? You all 'appy, eh?" + +Gilbert was still too dazed to understand. "You've killed him!" was all he +could utter. + +"I 'ave," the bandit answered. "You need not thank me. It was a great +pleasure." Evidently he smiled; Lucia would not look up. + +Gilbert paced the floor. "He's dead!" he kept repeating, as though to brand +the truth upon his brain. "He's dead!" He paused once and stared down again +at the body. + +"He's dead, just as I say," Lopez stated. "Pedro never misses." + +As though he had heard his name spoken, the ubiquitous Pedro ambled in, +slowly, and with a bored expression upon his ugly countenance. + +"Azcooze, my general," he said. His chief turned. "It is ze damn ranger. +Zey is after us some more." + +Lopez never turned a hair. Lucia heard him say: "It is time. I was +agspectin' zem. Ze 'osses?" + +"Zey are ready," Pedro informed him. + +Pancho paused and considered a moment. "Zey come from ze souse, zose +rangers?" + +"_Si_," was the quick answer. + +Lopez rose. "Felipe Aguilaw becomes more hefficient hevery day. I shall +make general of 'im yet. _Bueno_, we go." + +"Red" had gone over and looked out of the window. Twilight had definitely +come, and the sky was a great sheet of flame. Orange, pink, purple, and +red, the clouds shifted over the face of the dying sun. A king going down +to his death could not have passed in greater glory. While men and women +fought their little battles, waged their puny quarrels, this stately +miracle occurred once more. Unmindful of the grief of mortals, the day was +about to pass into the arms of the waiting night. + +"What's it all about?" "Red" asked, turning from the wonderful scene +without to the frightened people within. + +"It is ze ranger what chase me some more again," smiled Lopez. He seemed +wholly unconcerned. + +"Texas rangers after you?" asked "Red," startled. + +"_Si!_" laughed Lopez. + +"And you don't even get excited?" + +"For why? It is not my habit. I give not a damn for any man." He snapped +his fingers, as though at life itself. + +Two horses could be seen through the door. The men were bringing them up to +their leader. "We should take our time--is no hurry." He took his big +sombrero from the peg where he had put it long ago, and turned to Gilbert. +"Well, I go now. _Adios_, my frand." + +"Wait a minute," the other tried to detain him. "You've killed him. You +wouldn't go and leave things this way, would you?" + +"As I say, no trouble for me," Lopez boyishly said, and smiled, shrugging +his broad shoulders. + +Gilbert was astonished. "Yes; but how about me?" he wanted to know, "You do +not think of that." + +The bandit turned, amazed. "What ze matter? Are you not satisfied? You all +what you say: zit--zot--zet!" He pinched his fingers, and made a funny +little noise. + +"I can't think," said Gilbert, sitting down, one hand on his forehead. +"It's all so strange, so confusing to me. The world seems to be rocking +beneath my feet. What does it all mean--this life we live for so brief a +time? What does anything mean?" + +Lopez came over to him and put his hand on his shoulder affectionately. +"You Americanos so queer," he said, "For why you waste time thinking? Are +you not rich? 'Ave you not ze beautiful lady to love like 'ell yourself +personal?" + +Gilbert jumped up. He thought he would go mad if this sort of thing kept +up. "Good God, man!" he cried. "After what you've done, you can talk like +that?" + +"What have I done?" inquired the bandit, blandly. "Well, _what_ I done?" + +Gilbert looked at him in amazement. "You killed him! That's all." + +Lopez smiled. "Sure!" He let the word loiter on his tongue. He pulled it +out like so much molasses candy. "I killed him--sure. Was in ze way. What +else could I do?" + +"You've put a barrier between us. We're of a different brand, a different +calibre. Don't you see?" + +"Ees no way for pliz you. If I do not kill ze 'usband, ees all wrong. If I +do kill ze 'usband, ees all wrong. Say," he looked at him in confusion, +"what ze 'ell shall I do wiz ze damn 'usband, anyway?" He puckered his +brow. + +"Oh, I don't know," Gilbert said in desperation. What was the use in +arguing with this barbarian? Yes, he was a barbarian--nothing else. They +were miles apart. Centuries of belief and training separated them. + +"You don't know?" Lopez said. "Pretty soon you find out. It surprise you +now. But pretty damn soon when all shall go and leave you alone wiz 'er, +you shall be sensible, too--like Mexican. To live is more strong as law. +Wait and see, my frand, wait and see!" He shook his head mysteriously. + +Pedro stepped forward. "Here is a pistol," he said to his master in +Spanish. + +Lopez looked at him. "Ah, _gratia_, Pedro!" He took the weapon from him and +patted him on the back. Then he whispered something in his ear, handed it +back, and Pedro gave it to Gilbert. + +"Ze ranger. Zey come," he said as he did so. + +"_Bueno._ I go," said Lopez, and started toward the door. Then he turned to +Gilbert. "_Astuavago adios._ Maybe we will meet again, maybe no. _Quien +sabe?_" He waved his hand, gave one last look at Pell's limp form, and +cried, "_Adios!_" He was gone--vanished like a ghost. + +They all were mute in the little room. They heard the hoof beats of the +horses as they galloped away. Fainter and fainter grew the sound. Then +silence. And meanwhile the great night was falling like a curtain around +them all. Through the doorway came the last beautiful beams of the sun. The +mountains were like giant sentinels, row on row, unbelievably near in the +semi-darkness. Far off, now and then, a bird could be heard calling. Soon +darkness would envelop the earth, and this day of doom would be gone +forever. Never might they see Pancho Lopez again. Gilbert would go north; +and Lucia--He could not think. + +Hardy broke the silence. He came over and looked down at Pell. "We can't +touch him till the coroner gits here," he said grimly. There were, as +always, ghastly details to be attended to. + +"But I better make sure," said "Red," kneeling beside the body. "Right in +the head. Not a chance." He was peering down at the gaunt face. "No, not a +chance when you get it there." + +Angela, hearing something outside, had rushed to the door and looked into +the growing darkness. "I thought--What was that?" she exclaimed. + +They all listened. Far off a shot could be heard--then another. But it must +have been miles away. + +"Red" sprang up. "Rangers!" he cried. "They're shooting!" + +"Where are they?" Hardy asked. + +"In the arroyo," "Red" replied. He was at the window, looking out. "You'll +see 'em in a minute." + +The sound of shots came nearer. It was as though a miniature army were +storming the section near the adobe. + +Uncle Henry, sitting in the alcove, was terrified. "What's that?" came his +piercing voice. + +"They see him!" cried "Red." + +"Do you think they can hit him?" Angela cried. + +"Red" was certain they could not. "There ain't a chance, at that range," he +said. + +But Uncle Henry was not so sure. "Mebbe they might, by accident." + +"Red" turned. "Accidents don't happen in Arizona--leastwise not with guns." + +The horses' hoof beats came nearer. Yet in all the excitement, Lucia did +not move. She was keeping her silent place by the body of Morgan Pell. She +did not even raise her head. + +"Here they come!" cried Angela, leaning out the doorway. + +"Red" had gone out of the room; but he came back now. "Better get inside," +he warned them all, definite fear in his voice. "We're in range. It's +pretty dangerous. As I said, accidents don't happen down in this country." + +"But I want to see!" cried Angela, dancing with excitement now. + +"Red" was distracted. "Please come in, Angela," he begged. More shots were +heard. He was frightened for everyone. He had lived too long down here not +to know the meaning of such desperate shooting. "What the h----" Two +bullets came through the window, and smashed a little mirror that hung on +the wall near the staircase. The bits of glass fell to the floor with a +loud crash. + +"What's the matter?" came the terrified voice of Uncle Henry. His hands +clung to the wheels of his chair. But he did not budge it. + +"Red" had not been able to dodge a shot. "Right through the hat!" he cried, +and waved his Stetson. Sure enough, a bullet had gone clean through his +headgear. Had he lifted his face a few inches higher, he would have been +shot himself. + +More hoof beats. Yet Lucia never moved. + +"Bullet?" asked Hardy. + +"Yes," "Red" replied. "And it was spang new--this hat. Cost eighteen +dollars!" He was still looking at the tattered Stetson. + +"Oh, it might have hit you!" Angela cried and embraced him. + +"Told you we'd better keep inside!" "Red" said. + +"You bet--until they go by," Hardy agreed. + +"Red" stepped forward. "Back, everybody!" he ordered. He pushed everyone +farther back into the room, until they were all crowded in one corner. +Uncle Henry was trembling like a leaf. How he wished he had never been +brought to this strange country! Oh, for the peace of Bangor, Maine! +_There_ was a place for you! Down here it was all shooting, killing, and +desperate trouble. Having escaped one crisis, was it possible the fates +were to be so unkind as to put him in the way of another, from which there +might be no extrication? Curse the luck, anyhow. Gol darn it! + +The hoof beats came nearer and nearer. There were more shots. A man +dismounted near the door. Then a man on horseback galloped up to the very +entrance of the adobe. There was a general movement without, but no one +ventured to go out and see what had happened. They could hear voices, +sharp commands, and far off one more shot. Someone cried, "Keep on after +him, boys!" + +A ranger came in. He was an angular fellow, with a bushy mustache, and eyes +like a ferret. His gun was on his hip, and one hand never left it. His name +was Bradley. Gilbert knew him well. Often had he met him in the hills. He +was known as one of the best shots of all that company of men who pursued +criminals and bandits through the State, and drove them over the border. +Few escaped him; and he had a train of lieutenants who adored him. A born +fighter, a born pursuer of men, who loved his desperate life, and gloried +in his conquests. Some called him Bradley the Inexorable. He seldom missed +a shot; and God help those who came into his power. + +"We're after Lopez," he said breathlessly. "Been here?" He never wasted +words. + +"Yes," Hardy answered. He looked toward Pell's body. + +Bradley's quick eyes followed his. "Hello! what's that? Wounded?" he asked. + +"Worse--he's dead," Hardy replied. + +Bradley stepped close to the still form. "Who did this? Lopez?" + +"Yes," from Hardy. + +"Got it in the head, eh?" the ranger went on, looking down at Pell, but +with no pity in his face. He was too accustomed to death. A man who had +been killed was just another "case" to him--one of an endless row of +corpses. + +Angela came up to the table. "He's really dead?" she breathed, and clung to +"Red's" big arm. + +"Who was he?" Bradley inquired. + +Hardy motioned to the mute Lucia, sitting so quietly in the chair. "Her +husband. Name's Pell." + +"Sorry for you, lady," said Bradley, perfunctorily, as he might have said +"Good-morning." He turned now to go. "Don't touch him till the coroner +comes," he commanded. "Mind what I say." + +"But officer--" began Hardy. + +"Can't stop," Bradley waved him aside. "Now we _gotter_ get him." He went +out as swiftly as he had come in. Every instant was precious. There was not +a second to be lost. + +And still Lucia did not stir a muscle. It was as if she had been turned to +stone. A silence fell upon them all. "Red" sat down on the little +window-seat, his Angela beside him. Hardy tried to smoke. They could hear +the clock ticking on and on--that little clock which had heard so much as +its hands moved around the dial during the last few pregnant hours. + +Suddenly Uncle Henry, who had been looking at Morgan Pell's huddled form, +cried out; + +"Hey, what's comin' off?" Had the darkness deceived him? + +"Red" jumped at the question. "What's the matter?" His nerves were on edge. + +"He moved!" cried Uncle Henry, excited now, and rising in his chair, which +he wheeled out into the room. + +"Moved!" cried "Red." "You're crazy! He's stone dead, if ever anyone was." + +"I seen him--I swear I seen him!" Uncle Henry's eyes were almost popping +from his head. "Why didn't someone do something? Why didn't they see what +he saw? Oh, to be able to walk, and not sit forever like a dried mummy in +this chair! + +"But how could he have moved?" "Red" exclaimed. "He's dead, I say!" + +"I don't know how he could!" Uncle Henry cried, "but he did! Look at him!" +He could scarcely control himself now. + +"Maybe Lopez didn't kill him after all," "Red" said, and knelt down to +examine Pell's body again. + +"Now don't tell me that!" Uncle Henry yelled. "Ain't we got trouble enough +here without him comin' back?" He could have stood any calamity, it seemed, +but the return to life of this wretched Morgan Pell. + +"By golly!" "Red" exclaimed, on his knees, his hand on Pell's white face. + +"Was I right?" Uncle Henry said. + +"Red" rose slowly. His voice was almost a whisper. "He's alive!" he +breathed. + +Gilbert, who had not taken Uncle Henry's word seriously, could not doubt +"Red's" verdict. + +"Alive!" he said. "Oh, it can't be!" + +For the first time Lucia moved. Her lips opened. "Alive!" she managed to +say. Again the world crumbled for her. + +"It was only a flesh wound," "Red" said. "The bullet just grazed his head." + +Lucia looked up. She was ashen. She was older, and her eyes seemed to have +lost their fire. "He's--really--alive?" she got out. She stared down at her +husband. + +"They should of shot 'im in the stomach!" Uncle Henry stated. What a mess! +What rotten luck, ran through his weary brain. + +Pell's foot moved again. Then his arm went up; and slowly he rose on one +elbow, pushed away the tablecloth that touched his head, and looked about +him. He was like a man awaking from a sound slumber. He was dazed, +mystified. In the almost complete darkness, he could not distinguish faces. + +"What was it? What happened?" he inquired, in a hollow voice--a voice from +the tomb! + +No one answered. They were all terror-stricken. + +"I can't remember," the hollow voice went on. He fell back on the floor. He +was weak from the loss of blood. "Red" lifted him up, and helped him around +the table to a chair. + +Lucia's eyes never left Morgan Pell's face. Was she dreaming? Was this some +madness that had come to her? This brute come back to life! It was +unbearable, unbelievable. She could not adjust her mind to the situation. +But with true feminine instinct, she found herself leaving her chair where +she had sat so long, going to the kitchen and getting a cup of water. Then +she knew, in some strange way, that she had fetched a bowl, and a towel. +These she placed on the table. Still she looked at her husband, as though +he were a ghost--as, literally, he was. They had thought him dead--gone +forever. Now he was back among them, speaking, moving. Incredible! One hand +went to her face. She dreaded the thought of Morgan's seeing her. + +It was Uncle Henry who broke the awful tension. + +"You was shot!" he cried, to Pell. + +The other looked at the old man in the chair. "Shot?" he said. + +"Yes, and a rotten shot it was, too!" Uncle Henry was not afraid to say. +"Gol darn it all!" + +The moment was too tragic for anyone to smile. + +"Who shot me?" Pell asked. He was very weak. He put the towel in the bowl +of water, and pressed it to his forehead. + +"A friend of mine!" cried Uncle Henry. + +Gilbert glared at the old man. No one could be forgiven for a remark like +that. + +"I remember, now," Pell murmured. "The bandit." + +"And a gol darn nice fellow, too," Uncle Henry went on. "A little careless, +but--" + +Pell looked startled. The towel fell from his hand and he looked about him. +"He's not here still!" he cried, as one just coming out of a stupor to a +full realization of his surroundings. + +"No, worse luck!" Uncle Henry said. + +"He's gone?" Pell said. + +"The rangers came," Hardy explained. + +"Texas?" from Pell. + +"Yes, gol darn 'em!" Uncle Henry let out. + +Lucia, who had been watching Pell's face every second, now offered him the +bowl of water with her own hands, and drew closer to him. She picked up the +towel that had fallen to the table, and folded it, then dampened it. Pell +looked up and saw her for the first time. + +"Oh, so there you are, my dear!" was his cynical greeting. + +Lucia still stared at him. "I thought--I thought--you were dead," she +murmured. Her voice sounded far away to her. It was scarcely a whisper. + +"So it seems!" Morgan Pell answered, his lip curling. "My dear, I regret to +disappoint you. But aside from a slight pain in my head, I was never better +in my whole life!" He wanted to see the effect of his words. + +"Shall I bandage your wound for you?" his dutiful wife asked. + +He looked at her from the corner of his eye. "Thank you--no," he said. + +Lucia sat down on the other side of the table. + +Not a word more was said. Pell took out his own handkerchief, and started +to dip it in the bowl of water. But he was shaking still, and the piece of +linen dropped to the floor. He stooped to pick it up. As he did so, he saw, +in the dim light, the option lying exactly where Pancho Lopez had tossed +it. He grasped it in his hand, crushed and crumpled as it was, and thought +no one had observed him. But Uncle Henry's eagle eye had seen his movement. + +"What's that?" he called out. + +Pell tried to seem unconcerned. "The option, my dear sir," he answered +truthfully. + +"By gollies, he's got it again!" Uncle Henry yelled, in desperation. He +switched his chair around, and faced Gilbert. "Why didn't you tear it up +while he was dead?" he asked. + +Pell addressed Uncle Henry. "You've got ten thousand dollars of my money," +he firmly said. + +"_I_ have?" + +"I want it," was the other's immediate reply. + +"It was paid me for a debt," the old man said. + +"It was stolen from me first," Morgan Pell stated, calmly. "Come across." +He put one hand out. The other still held the cloth to his wounded +forehead. + +"I'll be cussed if I will!" the invalid cried. He clapped his hands over +his vest pocket, where the money was safely hidden. + +"Why, you poor old crook--" Pell began, rose, and snatched the money from +Uncle Henry before anyone knew what he was doing. All his old fire was +back. He seemed the most alive man in the room. + +Uncle Henry cried out, wildly, "Hey, ain't there no Americans present?" He +saw Gilbert's gun which was on the seat beneath the stairway. He was close +enough to grasp it. He did so, pointed it at the room in general, and +yelled, "Now I got yuh! Hands up, everybody!" + +But no one moved. A disdainful silence followed. "Didn't yuh hear what I +said?" Uncle Henry inquired, looking at everybody. + +"Put that down," said Hardy contemptuously. "You might hurt somebody," he +added, smiling. + +"Ain't yuh goin' to do it?" Uncle Henry asked. + +"As I was going to say--" Hardy started, when Uncle Henry interrupted him +with: + +"But it was what _he_ done!" + +"Who?" asked Hardy. + +"The bandit," Uncle Henry answered. + +"Will you keep still?" Hardy urged. + +"Certainly not!" Uncle Henry went on. "I got a gun here and I--" + +Hardy reached for the weapon. "I'm holdin' you up, gol darn it!" Jasper +Hardy took the gun as he would have taken a bag of peanuts from a child, +and handed it to Gilbert with a wink. + +"Hey! You can't do that!" wailed the invalid. He wheeled his chair toward +his nephew. "You wouldn't do that if my friend Lopez was here, you big +bum!" he ended, as peevish as an infant. + +Pell turned upon his wife. "Well, my dear--" he began, and once more his +lips curled at the irony of the last phrase. + +"What!" Lucia said; and there was terror in her voice. + +Pell did not mince words. "Having both the Option and a clearer +understanding of each other, there's nothing to detain us." He measured +everything he uttered, and watched the effect upon her. + +"It's no use," Hardy broke in. "You're too late." + +"Not if I got there by eight o'clock," Pell said. + +"But you won't!" Jasper Hardy quickly said, glancing at the clock which +ticked on, inexorably. + +Pell pulled out his watch. Then he looked at the option, deliberately, +carefully, and seemed to read a final sentence. Having done so, he tore the +piece of paper to bits slowly, and scattered them on the floor at his feet. +At that very instant the clock struck eight. + +"It's eight o'clock!" "Red" exclaimed on the last peal of the bell. + +"Eight o'clock!" Hardy cried. "And the place belongs to me!" He turned to +Pell. "Anything more from you?" he inquired, and smiled. + +The other stared at him; but he said nothing. Instead, he went over again +to the table, and wet his handkerchief in the bowl, again refusing Lucia's +proffered assistance with a wave of his other hand. He bathed his own +wound. And meanwhile Hardy was saying to Gilbert: + +"Well, young feller, it's your move." + +"His move!" "Red" repeated the phrase. "Say, you wouldn't go and skin him +out of the place all over again, would you?" + +Hardy sneered. "I'm going to foreclose, certainly, if that's what you mean, +you impudent young scoundrel!" + +"You mean you would trim him again?" "Red" didn't believe it. + +"Say, boy, you better use your head. You're going to marry my darter, ain't +you?" + +"Yes--I hope so," the foreman said. + +"Well, don't you realize that all I got will eventually go to you and her? +Don't you?" + +"It will?" asked the incredulous "Red." + +"Certainly; when I die," answered Hardy. + +"I hope it'll be soon!" cried out Uncle Henry. Then, to "Red," "Don't you +see he's leading you up to the top o' that gol darn mountain?" + +"Red" did not understand. "Gol darn _what_?" he said. + +Uncle Henry was exasperated at his stupidity. "Why, he's temptin' you, the +old devil! Don't let him. It's a gol darn shame," he added, turning his +chair so that he faced Hardy, "an old scoundrel like you tryin' to corrupt +a nice young feller like him! Don't you know money you get like that won't +do you no good?" + +"It's his--Gilbert Jones's," cried "Red," "and I ain't goin' to be party to +robbin' him of it!" + +"Hooray!" yelled Uncle Henry. "That's the boy! I knew you was like that. +You're all right!" And he backed into the alcove, happier than he had been +in a long time. + +"You hear that?" Hardy said to his daughter. + +"I do," she answered, "and he's right." + +"What's that?" said her surprised father. + +"It is Gil's, and to take advantage of him isn't fair. You know it as well +as I do, too!" She stamped her little foot. + +"Say, you don't think you love him again, do you?" Hardy wanted to know. + +From the alcove, Uncle Henry cried: "That's the idea! And if the poor +sucker'd only marry her--" + +But Angela interrupted: "It isn't him I care for. It's--" She cut herself +off, and could have bitten out her tongue for thus revealing her heart. + +"Angela!" cried the enraptured "Red." He went over to her, grasped her +around the waist, and led her to the window. + +Hardy said, trying to pacify his daughter: "But I ain't going to be hard on +him--or on Jones." + +"You ain't?" Uncle Henry cried. + +Hardy turned to the nephew. "You know, that stuff Lopez said about me bein' +a bum patriot stuck in my craw. And now that I got the place, if you ever +need any help I'll be glad to go on your note for you." + +Gilbert said nothing; but Uncle Henry rushed in with, "You will?" + +"That is, if it ain't too much," Hardy craftily added. + +"How much?" Uncle Henry asked. + +"Oh, two hundred dollars," Jasper Hardy grandly said. + +"Two hundred dol--Git out o' my way!" Uncle Henry wheeled straight through +him. + +"Say, where are you goin'?" Hardy cried. + +"To Mexico!" Uncle Henry said. "This country's gettin' so it ain't fit to +live in!" And he whirled out of the room. + +Hardy turned to his daughter. "Nothing to keep us here any longer. Come on, +Angy." + +"Come, 'Red,'" said the girl, as she started to follow her father. What +else was there to do? + +Even though it was Angela who called to him, "Red's" allegiance was for the +moment elsewhere. + +"I gotter stick by him," he said, looking at Gilbert. + +"No," said Gilbert. "This is something I've got to settle alone. But I +thank you, 'Red'--I thank you with all my heart. You're a brick--a red +brick." He smiled and patted him on the back. + +"Red" was suspicious still. He looked at Gilbert. "You don't think he'll +try any funny business, do you? You're sure you won't need me around?" + +"How can he try any funny business?" Gilbert asked. + +"I know," said "Red." Gilbert looked at him closely. "I get yuh," the +foreman continued. "But I don't like it just the same." He switched over to +the malignant Pell. "There's one little detail I'd like to call your +attention to," he said. + +"Well?" Pell said. + +"I'm a tough little feller myself, sometimes. And if anything should happen +that shouldn't, I'll be waitin' for you in town with a one-way ticket. And +it won't be to New York. Savez?" Then he turned to his adored and adoring +Angela. "Come, Angy!" + +And he grasped her arm, and took her out. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +WHEREIN AN OLD SITUATION SEEMS ABOUT TO BE REPEATED, ANOTHER SHOT IS FIRED, +AND THE BAD MAN COMES BACK + + +Deeper and deeper grew the darkness. Outside, indeed, the first stars had +begun to shine, and soon the heavens were a miraculous glory. But there was +no moon. Every road was hushed, and the trees waved their long arms in the +gloom. The little machine that took Angela and her father home, rolled down +the quiet valley. Its chug-chug was the only sound for miles around. "Red" +was happy in the cool night. He rode all the way out to the Hardy ranch. He +and Angela sang an old song, and let Jasper Hardy sit at the wheel and +whirl them to the lights of home. + +Meantime, back in Gilbert's adobe, the Mexican cook came from his stuffy +kitchen and fetched a lamp for the sitting-room. He lighted two candles by +the fireplace, closed the shutters and door, and went back to his pots and +pans. He said nothing, noticed nothing. It had been a day of intense +excitement for him, and he was glad to crawl back, like some tiny worm, +into the cave where he ruled supreme. + +Lucia, in the lamplight, was paler than before. The three of them were +standing, curiously enough, almost as they had stood only a few brief hours +ago; and as she looked around her now she thought of this. + +"So," she said. "We're back just where we started from!" The grim humor of +it came over her. Ten minutes ago she had thought her husband dead--done +for, out of the way. Now he stood before her in all his virility, in all +his cruelty; and behind him was the one man in the world that she loved. + +"Not quite," said Gilbert. He stepped forward a pace or two. He saw that +Lucia was alarmed. "Come," he begged of her. "Don't be afraid." Oh, the +balm of those few words! + +But she was not wholly herself yet. "What are you going to do?" she asked, +and came nearer Gilbert. How strong and determined he looked in the dim +light! + +"I'm going to have this thing out," he said. "You can never go back to him +now." There was finality in his voice. + +"No, I never can," Lucia agreed. And there was finality in her voice, too. +It was as if Destiny had come into this house, and an unheard voice told +them what to do. + +"You'll trust me to protect you--until--" Gilbert went on. + +She looked at him pleadingly. "Oh, take me with you, Gil!" She threw her +arms out. She had nothing to fear now, his strength beside her. She told +him in one glorious gesture that she was his forever--that she had +surrendered herself, body and soul, to him. Gilbert looked at her. Slowly, +he realized that this woman, this creature of his dreams cared for him, and +him alone; and the world might sweep by, the stars and moon might crash to +earth, and they would neither know nor care. Fate had brought her to him. +Nothing else mattered now. What was Morgan Pell? In life he was as impotent +as when he lay half concealed beneath the table near which he now stood. +They would not consider him, save as the foolish laws of man made it +necessary for them to consider him. + +Gilbert turned to Pell. "You heard--she's mine now. And any course you may +take to stop her--" he warned. It was useless to say more. The manner in +which young Jones spoke told the whole story of his feelings. + +Yet Pell tried to appear nonchalant and casual. "You haven't another drink +around, have you?" he inquired. He still held his handkerchief to his +wounded forehead. "That was a rather nasty one I got, you know." + +Gilbert, though he loathed him as a serpent, remembered that he was this +creature's host, and stepped over to the fireplace where there was a flask +with a little tequila still left. He offered Pell the bottle. + +"You were saying--?" Pell went on. He poured himself a stiff drink. +"Something about leaving me, wasn't it?" It was plain to be seen that he +was bluffing. "I'm sorry," swigging down what he had poured, "but I wasn't +listening very closely. This thing here--" he tapped his wound. No one +answered him, and he set down his glass. "Well?" to his wife. + +She faced him with a flame in her eyes. "Had I known you, I never would +have married you. But now that I do know you, I could never live with you +again. I loathe and despise you, with all the strength that is in me." + +"You want to leave me, eh?" He sneered as he stared at her. "And go with +him?... Won't your reputation--?" + +"What do I care for my reputation?" she flared. "At least I shall have my +self-respect. I never could keep that if I went back to you." + +"It's _your_ reputation, of course," Pell smiled. "You can do as you like +with it." He turned fully toward her. "All right, I've no objection." + +"You're lying," Gilbert affirmed. + +Pell's tongue rolled round in his cheek. "I don't blame you for thinking +so. _You_ haven't been shot to-day. You should try it sometime. It changes +one's viewpoint surprisingly." His voice seemed to lose its hardness for a +moment; there was a note of self-pity in it. + +"But you said--" Gilbert began. + +Pell's whole manner changed, and the look of a wounded animal came into his +eyes. "A man says many things in anger that he doesn't mean," was his own +extenuation. "Haven't you ever made the same mistake yourself, Jones? I'm +sure you have. There's no use getting excited." He put up a hand. "Here we +are, we three. She is my wife. But she doesn't love me, nor do I love her. +She does love you. What is the best way out for all of us?" + +A new Morgan Pell! They could scarcely believe the metamorphosis. + +"You'd give her up?" Gilbert said. + +The other looked down, and the point of his boot drew a little ring on the +floor. "I can't hold her," he said, "if she doesn't want to be held, can +I?" + +"You don't intend--" + +"To fight you?" Pell looked him squarely in the eye. "I do not. I've had +all the fighting I want for one day. Now, my own course is simple. I have +merely to go back to New York and forget that either of you ever existed. +But your problem is more difficult. It's after eight. You've lost the +ranch. And you have no money." + +"But I can earn money," Gilbert said. + +"A hundred dollars a month punching cows? With her in a boarding-house in +Bisbee? A nice life, isn't it? Do you care to think of it, both of you?" + +"I can take care of her," Gilbert was quick in saying. + +"With your friend, Lopez--if he escapes--become a professional killer. My +dear chap, you forget. She's used to decent people. It makes all the +difference in the world." Pell turned away, lest the hard look should +return to his countenance. + +Lucia had been listening intently. "I know him, Gil," she whispered, loud +enough for her husband to hear. "He's trying to frighten us!" + +Pell faced her. "Frighten you? You're wrong, my dear. I'm merely trying to +help you. That's all." + +There was a step on the path--another step. Several people were approaching +the adobe. Without ceremony, the door was thrust open, and Bradley was +before them, excitement in his eyes. He came into the room and dim figures +could be seen behind him. Was that Lopez tied up, with his back to them in +the darkness? His shoulders were bent over, his hat was pulled down over +his brow. His hair was matted, and two Mexicans stood guard on either side +of him. Far away the stars twinkled, unmindful of his plight. + +"Got any water?" Bradley asked. + +"Lopez!" Pell exclaimed. + +"He's got him!" came from Gilbert. + +Lucia grew paler still. "Lopez! Captured!" she cried. "Oh!" And she hid her +face in her hands. What a few brief hours could bring! + +Bradley came close to her. "And a fine day's work for us, lady," he said, +triumph in his tone. "We got him at last." Then, in the light of the +candle, he caught a good view of Pell. "Say, I thought you was dead!" he +cried. + +"I was," laughed the other. "I mean--only a scalp wound." And he pointed to +the mark on his forehead. + +The figure at the door, piteous in its helplessness, never moved, never +turned. + +"Give me that water," Bradley continued. "I want to get him in alive if I +can. All the more credit to me and my men, you see." + +Morgan Pell had taken the canteen down from the wall and poured some water +in it. Now he handed it to Bradley. "There you are," he said. + +"Thanks," the ranger said. He went back to the door, and pushed the jug to +the lips of his prisoner. "Take a swig o' that." Lopez did so. His +humiliation was evident even in his back. And only a little while ago he +had been the monarch of all he surveyed! Now he was the slave of Bradley, +and must ride, hand-cuffed, to the jail a few miles away. + +"He's wounded," said Lucia, going to the door. "You can't take him--like +that!" she exclaimed. She longed for Lopez to turn and look at her; yet she +longed, oddly enough, that he would not do so in the next second. It would +be as difficult for her, as for him, if they saw each other. Her heart went +out to him--this friend of Gilbert's--and hers. + +Bradley hated this show of feminine weakness. "Why can't I take him like +that? Do you think I'm going to nurse an invalid like him around these +parts?" He took the canteen from one of his men. "Here," he said, handing +it back to Pell. + +"That's all right. Keep it; you may need it later on," said Pell, as though +the jug were his to give away. + +"Much obliged," the ranger thanked him, nothing loath. "Come on, Bloke. +Good-night. We got him!" + +He gave the bandit a shove, and two other rangers grasped him by either +arm. In a twinkling they were gone, had mounted their horses and were +galloping away in the starlight. + +So everything was over and done with! Lucia was heart-broken for Lopez. She +came back into the room, murmuring: + +"Lopez! Lopez captured!" There were tears in her eyes. + +Pell paced the room with new strength. His eyes were now sinister. + +"Fortunately for us, my dear," he said. "For now we are certain not to be +disturbed while working out a sensible solution of our little problem." He +had forgotten the pain in his head. He lighted a cigarette, casually, +slowly. "You will of course sue for divorce," he went on, blowing a ring to +the ceiling and watching it ascend. "But there'll be no difficulty about +that. I shall not contest," he added magnanimously. + +She grasped at the straw. "You won't?" She almost believed him now. + +"You'd win, anyway," her husband said. "But there _is_ the question of +alimony." + +Gilbert swerved about. He detested the word. "Alimony!" he cried. + +"An attractive woman never gets the worst of it in court," Pell coldly +stated. "Suppose we settle that--right here and now. It will give you ready +money. And it will save me from having to pay perhaps a greater sum--later. +That is...." + +Gilbert was incensed. "We don't want your money!" he cried. And Lucia +treated the suggestion with the scorn it deserved. + +Pell looked at them both. "No? Well, in that case, I suppose there's +nothing more to be said." + +"And we are free to go?" Lucia cried, unbelieving. + +Her husband puffed again. "Why not? I know I shan't stop you." Suddenly he +dropped his cigarette, leaned heavily against the table, swayed a bit, and +put his hand to his head. The old pain was returning. + +"You're suffering?" Lucia asked, alarmed. A strange pallor had come over +him. + +"I regret--that water--I gave away so liberally," Pell said, his voice +weak. + +"There's more," Gilbert cried. "I'll get it." He went hurriedly to the +kitchen. + +"Is there anything I can do for you?" Lucia asked, sympathy in her tone. +Always with her was the womanly instinct to serve, to help. Morgan was like +a wounded animal to her, and as deserving of attention as any hurt thing. + +"No, thank you," he said. + +"Oh, I'm sorry! I ..." + +Gilbert was back with another canteen. He went close to Pell and put the +jug to his lips, standing by his side, leaning over to proffer the cooling +water. As he did so, Pell stealthily reached out--Lucia could not see the +movement, for she had gone over to the fireplace--and craftily removed +Gilbert's gun from his hip-pocket. While in the very act of taking this +man's sustenance, he was playing him a foul trick. His heart lost a beat +at the easy success of his plan, the fulfillment of a wish he had been +harboring for the last ten minutes. He thrust the canteen away, stood up +suddenly, and pointed the stolen weapon straight at Jones. + +"Now, I've got you just where I want you!" he snarled. + +Lucia saw his base trickery. Why had she been so stupid as to believe in +him again? Why had she not warned Gilbert? What fools they had both been! + +"Gil!" she cried out; and anguish was hers--a deep, horrible moment of +suffering. It was all up with them. They were as helpless as Pell had been +with the bandit a few hours before. Caught, ensnared, trapped! + +"Why, damn you!" Gilbert screamed, and made a futile lunge for Pell. But he +was too late. The revolver was leveled at his head. + +"Make a fool out of me, will you, you s----" Pell said, and his eyes +glittered. A snake never looked more venomous. "I've got you now--got you +both, and by God--" + +"He means it, Gil!" Lucia cried, and threw herself into her lover's arms. +She would die, if he died--she would die with him. + +Pell stepped nearer to his intended victim. "Our wife is right," he +scoffed. "It isn't killing that I mind--it's being killed that I object +to." + +"They'll hang you!" Gilbert warned. + +Pell smiled his sardonic, evil smile. "The unwritten law works in Arizona +as well as in other places." He brutally ordered Lucia to get out of his +way. + +But Lucia still clung to Gilbert. "I won't! I won't move!" she yelled, and +her voice held the desperation of womankind. + +Deliberately Pell said: "All right! Then take what's coming to you and you +go to hell together, damn you both!" + +He raised the gun and aimed a deadly aim. + +Gilbert, in that mad moment, threw Lucia aside, to save her. He could not +let her die with him, much as he hated to leave her with this fiend +incarnate. "You'd better shoot straight," he cried to Pell. "Because, by +God, if you miss...." With one wild lunge, he knocked the lamp from the +table between them, and there was instant and terrible darkness. + +Confused, Pell did not know what to do. His tongue was cleaving to the roof +of his mouth, his hand seemed to freeze on the trigger. + +"What the devil!" he called out. And then a figure appeared miraculously in +the alcove, where one candle still burned, shedding a ghostly beam of light +from a shelf. "Good God!" + +A shot rang out. But it was not Pell's revolver from which it sped. Morgan +Pell crumpled at the feet of Gilbert, and the bandit rushed in, the smoke +still coming from his gun. + +"Santa Maria del Rio de Guadaloupe!" he cried. "'Ow many time I got for to +kill you to-day, any'ow? Now, damn to 'ell, mebbe you stay dead a while, +eh?" He looked down at the shriveled form. And as of old he called to his +henchman, "Pedro!" + +And Pedro was there. "_Si!_" he said. + +"Did I not tell you for kill zis man?" said Lopez, pointing in disgust to +Morgan Pell. + +Swiftly in Spanish, and frightened almost out of his wits, poor Pedro +muttered something wholly unintelligible. + +"Ees bum shooting! If she 'appen some more, zen I 'ave for get new Pedro. +Should be too bad. Especially for you. You onnerstand?" + +Terrified at the thought, poor Pedro simply shivered. "_Si_," he whispered. + +Lopez indicated Pell's body, and took out a cigarette nonchalantly. "Take +'im away. Ees no use for nobody no more." Pedro started to lift the heavy +form. "Save ze clothes and ze boots," he reminded his faithful man. + +"_Si_," the latter said, meekly. + +Venustiano appeared from the outer darkness, as if by magic, and rushed to +Pedro's aid. They lifted the stricken Pell, and carried him away. + +The distasteful business finished, Lopez turned to Gilbert. + +"Now, zen, you all right some more, eh?" he asked. + +Gilbert could not understand. "I guess so," he said, "I--I thought you were +captured!" + +"Me?" said Lopez in surprise, "It is not me, ees my double!" + +"Your double?" Gilbert, amazed, answered. + +"Ees idea what I get from ze moving pitchers." + +Gilbert and Lucia stared at each other; then at the bandit. + +"Then it wasn't you they captured?" Gilbert said. + +He flicked the ashes from his cigarette. "I should be capture by ze damn +ranger? Ees a idea!" He roared with mirth. "No, no! Long time I 'ave fix +zat." + +"But how? How do you work it?" Gilbert inquired, his brain in a tumult. + +"I pick from my men ze best rider. I make 'im for look like me. So when ze +ranger wish for chase me, 'e go while I remain be'ind. It save me moch +hexercise. Say, why you no kill 'im yourself? You got ze gun." Lopez was +mystified. + +"I--I couldn't," Gilbert answered. + +"Ees no difference from us three--me, you, and 'im," Lopez explained. "You +is afraid for kill. 'E was afraid for die. Me, I am afraid for neizer! Now +zen, what you do, eh?" He patted Gilbert on the shoulder. + +"I don't know," the young man said. "We've got to go somewhere." + +Lopez was firm. "No. You shall stay right 'ere in your 'ome sweet 'ome." + +"But I've lost the place." He pointed to the little clock that was ticking +out its relentless minutes. "It's after eight o'clock." + +"No," said Lopez, definitely. "For at 'alf-past six-thirty, what I do? I +tell you. When I am chase by ze ranger what I follow, I sink for myself +eight o'clock she soon come. Suppose moggidge of my frands he meet wiz +accident? Would never do!" He waved his arms. "So I goes and pays 'er +myself!" He handed Gilbert a paper. + +Gilbert could not believe his eyes. "What's that?" he wanted to know. + +"Ees recipe," Lopez affirmed. + +"But where did you get the money?" Gilbert asked, incredulously. + +Lopez winked. "Ees all right." + +"Where did you get it?" the American persisted. + +"I rob ze bank," said Lopez; and thought nothing more of it. + +"Robbed the bank?" Gilbert was wide-eyed now. + +"Sure! Ees what I go to town for." + +Jones turned away. "It's all off again!" + +The bandit was discouraged. "No! I am become business man what are tired +myself! I take ze money to lawyer what are frand for me. 'E go to ze judge +what 'ave come 'ome planty dronk. 'E tell ze judge you send 'im for pay ze +moggidge. Judge say sure, and 'and 'im recipe. Ees all right." And the +bandit, convinced of his logic, strutted to the fireplace, and threw his +cigarette away. + +"But I--must pay him back," Gilbert wanted to make it clear. + +"I 'ave planty money. You mus' not worry, my frand. I give you ten sousand +dollar which you can send back should you be so foolish." + +But Gilbert was obdurate. "I can pay it back. The oil--" + +"I am sorry. Zere is no oil," the bandit informed him. + +This was the consummating blow to the young man. "But you said--" + +"I tell you one damn big lie," Lopez laughed. "But 'as she not a million +dollar from ze 'usband which I kill?" He nodded toward Lucia. + +"Oh!" cried she. "How can you speak of such things--now?" + +"You don't think we'd touch one penny of that, do you?" Gilbert followed +up. + +Lopez looked puzzled. "Ze law is give it to you." + +Disgustedly Gilbert cried, "The Law!" + +"Ha!" The bandit saw his chance. "Is it possible all ze law what you love +is not so damn wise, after all?" He was tickled at his own perspicacity. +"However, it makes no never mind. You shall still be rich any'ow. I shall +send back all ze cattle what I steal from you." + +"You will? That's generous, to say the least." And Jones couldn't help +smiling. + +"And planty more what I shall steal for you myself personal. Now zen, is +all right? You 'ave ze money, ze lady, everyzing." Surely there was nothing +lacking, Lopez tried to make it plain, for complete happiness. There were +no bars now in the path of content. + +Yet this stupid young American was asking questions still! "But have I +everything?" he said, and, stooping, picked up the gun that Pell had +dropped just before he was killed. + +Lopez was amazed. "Have you?" he said, and pointed to Lucia. "There is it!" + +"But is it all right?" the young man persisted. + +A look of scorn came over the face of the bandit. "If it makes you 'appy, +what you care? You should not look ze gift 'appiness in ze face. Go on, +take her. Ees nice; you like 'er." + +Still Gilbert hesitated. "But I can't now." + +"And why not?" the bandit asked. He was thoroughly weary of Gilbert's +dilly-dallying, so foreign to his own philosophy. + +"Maybe sometime. By and bye; but not now." + +"If she is all right by and bye, why the 'ell is she all wrong now?" cried +Lopez, incensed. + +"You're not as sorry as I am. God knows, I want her." + +Lopez was desperate by this time. "_Dios!_" he fairly yelled. "You +Americanos make me seek! I shall come 'ere and work like 'ell all day to +make you 'appy, and the best I get is zis!" In his despair, he broke into +Spanish: "_Per dios mio!_" Stupidity could go no farther! What fools these +youngsters were! + +"I don't mean to be ungrateful," Gilbert explained. + +There was silence for a moment. Lopez strode up and down the room like an +animal. He was hot and disgusted. What was the use, after all? Why didn't +this young fellow, who had proved himself so brave and so worthy, show +signs of the red blood in him? No Mexican would have acted like this--no +Latin. He would make him get his happiness, if he had to die in the +attempt. Suddenly a crafty look came into his eyes. He came straight toward +Gilbert and snapped his fingers in his face. + +"Bah!" he cried. + +But all the young ranchman said was, "I'm sorry. You don't understand our +ways." + +"Shut up!" Lopez was genuinely infuriated now. "Ees no use for talk wiz +such fools. You make me seek! Such ideas! Not fit for ze child to 'ave! No +blood, no courage! Only ze liver what are white and ze soul what are +yellow." Gilbert winced at the word. "Americans! Bah! Fishes! Zat is all! +Fishes what ees poor! Bah! For you I am finish!" And he snapped his fingers +again. His face was purple with rage. + +He heard Gilbert murmuring only, "I'm sorry!" + +"Sorry! Ees all you can say--sorry! Ze coward! Ze fool! Ze fish what are +poor! Ze damn doormat for everybody to walk from!" His arms were flying in +the air. "All day I 'ave try to make ze man from you! It are no use. Ees no +man in you. Only ze damn fool what are sorry! Bah! All right. You will not +let me make you 'appy? _Bueno!_ Zen I shall go back and make you on'appy +and serve you damn good right!" He pointed to Lucia. "You will not take +'er?" + +Gilbert had stood still during this tirade. "I've tried to explain--" he +began once more. + +"Bah!" cried Lopez. "Zen I take her!" + +At last the American was roused. "You take her!" he cried. + +"Sure! All day I 'ave want 'er. Ees ze first time in my life when I want +woman all day and not--as favor I give 'er to you. Now, since you too big +damn fool not to take 'er yourself, I take 'er myself. And what you know +about 'im?" He paused, and called out, "Pedro!" + +Fearful at what might happen, Gilbert said, "Wait a minute." He thought +swiftly. "You mean this?" + +Lopez did not even answer him, so deep and abiding was his disgust. +Instead, he said to his man, "Pedro, we go." + +Gilbert watched his every motion. "You mean it?" he repeated. + +Lopez laughed. "Everybody sink I am joker to-day. Pedro, take 'er," and +nodded toward the terrified Lucia. + +Pedro started to obey. + +"I'm damned if you do!" cried Gilbert. "All day you've been trying to make +me do things your way. I've had enough. This Mexican stuff may be all right +in your country, but it won't go here!" + +He threw a protecting arm around Lucia, who was panting and pale. He pulled +his gun, and aimed it at Pedro's head. "Drop it!" he cried. Pedro obeyed +like lightning. The gun fell to the floor with a vibrating crash. + +Then Gilbert covered Lopez. "If this is a trick--" he cried. + +"Trick for what?" the bandit wanted to know. He nodded to Pedro. "Get ze +men. 'E will not shoot!" + +Enraged beyond control, young Jones cried out: "For the last time! You mean +it? I know what you've tried to do, and I'm grateful; but there's one thing +that I must do!" Still the gun was leveled at the bandit's head. + +"What's that?" nonchalantly. + +"Protect her!" Gilbert said, drawing Lucia closer to his heart. + +Lopez smiled again. "You will not shoot." + +"I will--if I must!" + +"Oh, ze wolf in ze sheep's overcoat!" the bandit smirked. + +"I will! I warn you!" + +"Gil!" cried Lucia, in mortal terror. + +"It's your life or his, and I'm damned if it's yours! I'll give you just +three seconds to get out of here! Now," and there was a fire in his eyes +that could deceive no one, "you hear me? One--two ..." + +"Don't shoot!" cried the bandit. And he laughed outright, almost doubling +up with mirth. + +"It was a trick?" Gilbert asked, beginning to see light. + +"_Si._ Ah, my frand, I 'ave make ze man from you at last! Fine man what +would kill for 'is woman!" He patted him on the shoulder. + +Gilbert looked at him seriously, and the terrible realization came to him. +"I _would_ have killed you! Yes, I _would_ have killed you--and you are my +friend!" + +Lopez saw how earnest he was. "I know. And it makes me very 'appy. For at +last you 'ave became ze man of intelligence--like me. You could not leave +'er go now, could you?" + +Gilbert looked at the relieved Lucia. "No!" he cried. + +"You not question ze what you call Destiny, do you?" Lopez said. + +"No." + +"Zen for you I am Destiny, to beat 'ell!" He walked toward the door. + +There was a whistle outside. Pedro had drifted into the night. The stars +poured their miracle of beauty into the room as Pancho Lopez flung the door +wide. + +"Well, no more of zat!" he said. "I must go--to leave you to live and love! +No, you shall not zank me," as Gilbert started to speak. "Ees I shall zank +you, for 'ere in your quiet 'ome you 'ave give me ze most peaceful day I +'ave spend in years." He smiled his captivating smile, and for the first +time took his sombrero from his head. He made a grand gesture. "Ees 'appy +day for you. Ees 'appy day for 'er. Ees 'appy day for me!" + +He made a very low bow. Then he stepped forward and touched Lucia on the +arm, and led her to Gilbert. One hand was on the shoulder of each. + +"You will name ze baby for me sometime--Pancho, or per'aps Panchita?" There +was a wistful note in his deep voice, and a look of eagerness in his eyes. +"Not ze first one, per'aps--but mebbe, like you say, by and bye--later? +Eh?" + +There was another whistle down the starlit road. + +"_Adios_, my frands! And may you always be so 'appy like what I 'ave make +you!" + +He was gone. They heard the horses trotting away; and even in that moment +of blinding and almost unendurable happiness, they were conscious of a +tinge of sorrow. + +For when would they ever see Pancho Lopez again? + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +WHEREIN AN OLD FRIEND RETURNS, AND THERE IS A JOYFUL REUNION + + +On a wonderful afternoon, more than two years later, Lucia sat in the +little Spanish courtyard that Gilbert had had built a few months after +their marriage. The air was like golden wine, and she drank it in, bathed +her soul in it, as though she could never find enough joy through these +slow hours. How marvelous life had been to her in the last radiant months! +She had realized the fulfillment of her most cherished dream, and looked +down now at a tiny pink face that smiled at her. + +"Oh, how sweet you are, Pancho!" she was saying. "I don't know what I ever +did without you!" And she kissed the baby's cheek, which instantly took on +a rosy hue. + +There is an ecstasy that is close to tears; and in the happiness that Lucia +had now found she was experiencing that high state of spiritual exaltation +which made life almost unbearably beautiful. The autumn day itself, warm +and glowing, was like a low fire on the hearth, toward which she stretched +her hands. But there was a spiritual fire within her which needed no +outward symbol; a flame that leaped and burned steadily. + +Far off she heard the chug of a motor--not the Ford now, but a big +touring-car that glistened in the sun. She knew that Gilbert would be +returning from Bisbee at just about this hour, and she could hardly wait to +see him turn in. + +"Here's your daddy, Pancho!" she cried, when the car swung from the road, +and Gilbert, hatless and sun-burned, leaped from the machine with all the +eagerness of a great healthy boy. + +He ran to his little family and kissed them both. "Gosh! but you look +lovely, Lucia, my dear!" he exclaimed, standing back a bit so that he could +have even a better view of her rosy cheeks, flashing eyes, and blowing +hair. "This autumn weather agrees with you, doesn't it? And Pancho--he +looks better than any baby around here--even Angela's." + +He dropped down on the seat beside her, and looked with rapture at the +child in her arms. + +"Sold ten head of cattle this morning, and Montrose says he'll take as many +more when I'm ready for him. Great, isn't it? 'Red' been over to-day?" + +"Yes," answered Lucia; "and he said he was going to bring Angela and +Panchita for an early supper. Says it's awful the way they've neglected us. +We haven't seen them for two whole days, you know!" + +They both laughed. + +"Well, of course old 'Red' has more to do now that Jasper Hardy's dead; but +after all, he can hire all the men he needs. Guess it's more a question of +his wanting to stay around Angy and the kid, don't you think so?" + +"He tries so hard to imitate you in everything. It makes me ache to see how +happy he is, Gil. Aren't they the cutest couple you ever saw? And won't it +be nice when Pancho and Panchita are old enough to play together?" + +"You bet!" Gilbert agreed. He looked off at the quiet mountains, steadfast +in their serenity, their crests seeming to kiss the sky. This _was_ God's +country, after all. Sometimes he could not believe that he had come so +gloriously into his own. In the slow process of putting his ranch on a +paying basis, after the turmoil of those weeks following the departure of +Lopez, he had had the sustaining wonder of Lucia always beside him; and +when little Pancho came upon the scene he felt that life was altogether too +kind to him. He had worked unremittingly; and not only had he had his own +affairs to absorb him, but "Red," after his marriage to Angela, was forever +ringing him up on the telephone, or coming over and asking his advice and +help. He was never too busy to throw out a word to his faithful friend; +indeed, they had reached a coöperative basis so far as the two properties +were concerned, and the arrangement could not have worked out better. The +ranches touched each other, and after Jasper Hardy's death a year and a +half before, it seemed wise to form a sort of partnership. There was no +need of a written understanding; the two men simply said to each other that +they would do certain things, install certain improvements, and share +expenses and profits. Nothing on paper for them! No, siree, said "Red." He +wouldn't hear of it. And everything had been as amicable as possible. + +It was curious to see the change in Uncle Henry since the arrival of little +Pancho. Gilbert got him a brand-new wheel chair--sent all the way to +Phoenix for it--to celebrate the great event; and Uncle Henry loved +nothing better than to take the chap on his knee and give him a ride in the +courtyard whenever Lucia would trust him to his care. He never complained +now. He was deliriously happy, and with the new era of prosperity that had +struck the household, he was given a Mexican boy as his own personal +attendant, and he grew to take a kindly interest in him. He taught him to +read and write English. Thus busily occupied, and loving Lucia because she +loved his nephew so, his health improved, as well as his temper. He could +even tolerate "Red's" harmonica; in fact, he often begged him to play it +when the latter came over to midday dinner, and his legs had so improved +that he could actually jiggle them to some merry tune. + +"If you don't look out, you'll be dancin' soon!" "Red" used to say on these +happy occasions. "You can shimmy now!" + +"Shet your head!" Uncle Henry cried; but not angrily--not now. He laughed +when he said it, and was secretly flattered that anyone thought he had such +pep at his age and in his condition of semi-invalidism (for that is all it +could be called now). + +It was five o'clock when the Giddings family came. They used the faithful +little Ford for the short run; but they too had a big roadster, painted a +flaming red, "to match the master's hair," Mrs. Quinn put it. + +Angela, radiant in her motherhood, instantly compared notes with Lucia as +to infant symptoms--not that anything was the matter with either child; but +she loved to be ready for any emergency, and had a natural fear that +Panchita might be taken ill in the night sometime; and was everything in +her home medicine-chest, that should be? + +Uncle Henry begged to take both children on his lap; and, holding them +firmly, he made his boy push the chair here and there, got "Red" to play +the once detested harmonica, and had a gay time of it all around the ranch +house. + +"We'd better eat indoors this afternoon," Lucia said. "I was going to +spread the table under the pergola; but it may turn cooler." + +It was not long before they were all seated at an extended table in the big +living-room--that same room which had been the scene of tragedy and +suffering for them, but was now so filled with joy. + +"Mrs. Quinn sent over the cake," Lucia announced, as the table-boy brought +in a huge dish, on which was a chocolate cake of magnificent proportions. +It looked--and was--as light as a feather; a work of art to be proud of. + +"Just like her, eh?" said "Red." "What would we do without Mrs. Quinn, the +queen of 'em all!" + +"That's what I say," Uncle Henry declared. He could hardly wait to get to +the cake, for he knew what toothsome dainties the Irishwoman could cause to +emerge from her oven; and often she sent him this or that sweet, "just to +let 'im know she was livin' an' breathin'." + +Suddenly there came a sound of hoof beats on the road; and through the open +door, outlined against the flaming sunset, Gilbert could see two horsemen +approaching, with pointed hats, and glistening buttons. + +"Mexicans!" he cried. "What can they be doing here, now?" His mind rushed +back to that terrible evening so long ago when Lopez had ridden up to the +adobe, and changed the world for them all in almost the twinkling of an +eye. + +He got up from the table now, and "Red" followed him. Dusk was just +descending, but Gilbert's sharp eyes recognized the first horseman even in +the dimming light. + +"It's Pancho Lopez!" he cried. + +And sure enough, on a steed that looked like Sunday afternoon, with +brand-new reins and bit, and in a suit that fit him to perfection, with +gleaming spurs and shining buttons, the rakish and indomitable Pancho, his +long-lost friend, returned to greet him. He could scarcely believe it. For +since that memorable night when he had left them, to return to the interior +of Mexico, never a word had he had from him. Meantime, the great happiness +had come to him; and when the baby came into the world, he and Lucia had +not forgotten the man who had been responsible for their joy. With one +accord they named the boy Pancho. There was not the slightest doubt but +that should be what he should be called. The only tragedy was that they had +no way of letting the bandit know what they had done. Where was he? They +did not know. When, if ever, would he return? They had no way of finding +out. There was but one thing to do--wait. And they did. But often Gilbert +had said to Lucia, "He has forgotten us, though we have never forgotten +him--our friend." + +Now, in the quiet, brooding autumn dusk he came to their doorstep, +dismounted, lifted his hat, smiled that wonderful smile of his, and made a +bow that any courtier might have been proud to make. Behind him, on a brown +horse, was Pedro, his lieutenant--the same monosyllabic Pedro, faithful +unto death, and now as clean as a whistle. + +"Ah! my frand!" Pancho said, as he bowed again, "How glad am I to see you. +You glad to see me, too, eh?" + +Lucia also had come to the door; likewise Angela--but the latter was still +a bit timid. Even Uncle Henry pushed his way to the sill, and sat like a +lonely man in a gallery while those in the orchestra pressed about their +favorite actor. + +"Glad?" exclaimed Gilbert. "I could kiss you, Pancho! But where on earth +have you been? Come in, and tell us everything." + +He needed no urging. "Hongry as beeg bear!" he told them. + +"Then sit right down," Lucia said, "There's plenty--far more than the last +time you were here!" And they all laughed. + +He came into the room, while Pedro took care of the horses. + +"Hallo, Oncle Hennery," he greeted the old man in the wheel chair. "You +look splendid! And 'allo, 'Red,'--zat's what zey call you--yes?" Then he +saw the babies, and his eyes fairly popped from his head, "Well, well!" he +cried, "Who 'ave zese leetle fellers!" + +"They're not both fellers!" Angela made bold to say. "One's a girl--that +one! She's mine!" + +"Oh, ho! Leetle spitfire still!" Pancho laughed. He chucked her under her +pretty chin. "So you marry ze man I pick for you, eh? Good! An' +zis"--pointing to the baby--"zis ees better yet!" + +"Look at mine!" the proud Lucia couldn't help saying. "Isn't he the image +of his father?" + +She held him up, and Lopez took his little hand in his. "Yes, I see what +you mean," he said, carefully looking at the child. "Hees father's +eyes--but not so much hair! What you call heem?" + +"Guess!" said Gilbert. + +"Could not," the Mexican answered. + +"Only one guess!" Lucia begged. + +"Could not t'ink," Lopez insisted. + +"Well, then--you tell him, Gilbert," the mother said, turning to her +husband. + +"There could be only one name in all the world for that youngster," Gilbert +said, and put his hand affectionately on his old friend's shoulder. "You +ought to know it as well as I. Of course his name is--Pancho!" + +The smile that came over the Mexican's face was beautiful to see. And was +that the suggestion of a tear in his eye? + +Long and long, and while everybody in the room remained perfectly still, he +looked at the baby, whose tiny hands bobbed up and down--a fat, healthy +youngster, fit as a fiddle, laughing, squirming, happy. + +"For me you name him?" Lopez finally got out. "Oh, too good you are to me. +Pancho! my own leetle boy! Pancho! 'Some' name, what you say, eh?" + +And he pinched the child's cheek, tenderly as his mother would have done. + +"And here's mine!" Angela, not to be outdone, piped up, presenting her +child, also in her arms, to the delirious bandit. + +"An' what heez name?" + +"It ain't a he--it's a she, I told you!" Angela corrected. + +"Ah! All kinds you 'ave 'ere, eh? Good! An' what _'er_ name?" + +"Can't you guess?" asked "Red," coming forward, smiling. + +"A girl? What use I 'ave for girls?" laughed Pancho Lopez. "What you say +now--what's ze name?" + +"Why, Panchita! What else could we have named her?" Angela said. + +You could have knocked the Mexican down with a straw. This time he was +flabbergasted. + +"You all too fine, too tender, too good to me," he said; and there was a +softness in his speech that none of them had guessed could be there, save, +perhaps, Gilbert. + +"Oh, no," Jones said. "We wanted a little Mexican touch in our households. +And we've never forgotten you, old friend. Tell me, where have you been all +these months? We hoped to hear from you. But never a word or a sign from +you. Aren't you just a little ashamed of yourself now, when you see how +much we have been thinking of you?" + +Lopez hung his head. "Yes, my frand, I _am_ ashamed." Then he looked around +at all of them. "I love you very much. I dream of you often, an' I say to +myself. 'Some day I go back there, an' see my old frands which I make so +'appy.' But I bandit no more, an' travel I hate in trains. I reform. I +settle down in Mexico City. I 'ave baby too, an' good wife, good mother. +But I get 'omesick, 'ow you say, for you all, an' so I come down for what +you call 'oliday, an'--'ere I am! You 'ave made me very 'appy to-night. I +love you all even more seence I see zese cheeldrens. _Madre Dio!_ How fine +to 'ave cheeldren!" + +"Ain't we ever goin' to finish our supper?" Uncle Henry wanted to know; but +his tone was not querulous; it was plaintively sweet, and it held a note of +invitation for everyone. + +Laughing, they all sat down, but not before Pedro had been asked in. The +frightened cook--the same who had been drunk that fatal evening when Pancho +first arrived--scurried here and there, eager to serve the distinguished +guest. + +"You all right!" Lopez told him. "Never fear, so long as you bring me good +'ot coffee!" + +And, happy as the babies, they all fell to; and it was Pancho himself who +was asked to cut Mrs. Quinn's big cake. + +"First time I use a knife in long while!" he laughed, as he stood up to the +job. "Now we all eat much; an' mebbe give some to leetle Pancho and +Panchita too, eh?" + + +THE END + + + + * * * * * + + + +A Selection from the Catalogue of + +G.P. PUTNAM'S SONS + +Complete Catalogues sent on application + + * * * * * + +THE STRANGENESS OF NOEL CARTON + +By + +WILLIAM CAINE + + +Noel Carton, driven to desperation by his vulgar little wife who, in buying +his position, is forced to accept him with it, determines to bury himself +in the writing of a novel, in the vain hope of forgetting. At the same time +he elects to keep a secret journal. In his novel he subconsciously draws +the portraits of the living people surrounding him. + +How this novel becomes inextricably entangled with his own journal is the +basis for this extraordinarily original story which leads to an astounding +climax. + +G.P. PUTNAM'S SONS + +New York London + + * * * * * + +The Night Horseman + +A Tale of Wild-riding Herdsmen and Outlaws, and their Deeds of Daring and +Deviltry + +By + +Max Brand + + +A well-known English critic said of _The Untamed_--"There are in it +passages of extraordinary power--the whole conception is very bold." And no +less bold nor less powerful is its sequel _The Night Horseman_. Once again +we ride in company with "Whistlin' Dan," the fearless, silent, mysterious +chap who shares the instincts of wild things, and once again we engage with +him in his desperate adventures, hair-breadth escapes, and whirlwind +triumphs. A novel thrilling in its reality, which will not be put down by +lovers of exciting fiction. + +G.P. Putnam's Sons + +New York London + + * * * * * + +WITHOUT MERCY + +BY + +JOHN GOODWIN + + +Mrs. Garth, a genius of finance, a personage in the social world, and head +of a great banking firm, is determined that her beautiful daughter shall +not marry Sir Melmoth Craven, of the sinister Sternberg Syndicate. He, +equally determined, and humiliated, plans revenge, not suspecting that Mrs. +Garth, under another name, heads Gordon's, Ltd., a notorious and powerful +money-lending establishment. A story full of thrilling situations and +exciting incidents. + +G.P. PUTNAM'S SONS + +New York London + + * * * * * + +The Door of the Unreal + +By + +Gerald Biss + +12º. Full Novel Size + + +A story of the Werewolves, made wonderfully credible and told with great +skill and feeling. This is far from being an ordinary detective novel. Mr. +Biss is on brand new ground and will puzzle every reader till the mystery +is at last solved by the right man--the mystery of the baffling murders on +the Brighton road. + + +G.P. Putnam's Sons + +New York London + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BAD MAN*** + + +******* This file should be named 16968-8.txt or 16968-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/9/6/16968 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: The Bad Man</p> +<p>Author: Charles Hanson Towne</p> +<p>Release Date: October 30, 2005 [eBook #16968]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BAD MAN***</p> +<p> </p> +<h4>E-text prepared by David Garcia, Josephine Paolucci,<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (<a href="https://www.pgdp.net/">https://www.pgdp.net/</a>)<br /> + from page images generously made available by<br /> + The Kentuckiana Digital Library + (<a href="http://kdl.kyvl.org/">http://kdl.kyvl.org/</a>)</h4> +<p> </p> +<table border="0" cellpadding="10" style="background-color: #ccccff;"> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + Note: + </td> + <td> + Images of the original pages are available through the + Kentuckiana Digital Library. See + <a href="http://kdl.kyvl.org/cgi/t/text/text-idx?c=kyetexts;cc=kyetexts;xc=1&idno=B92-259-31824852&view=toc"> + http://kdl.kyvl.org/cgi/t/text/text-idx?c=kyetexts;cc=kyetexts;xc=1&idno=B92-259-31824852&view=toc</a> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> + +<p><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2"></a></p> +<h1>The Bad Man</h1> + +<h2>A Novel</h2> + + +<h3>By</h3> + +<h2>Charles Hanson Towne</h2> + +<h4>Based on the Play by Porter Emerson Browne</h4> + + +<h5>G.P. Putnam's Sons</h5> +<h5>New York and London</h5> +<h5>The Knickerbocker Press</h5> +<h5>1921</h5> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h6><span class="smcap"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3"></a>Copyright, 1921</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">by</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">G.P. PUTNAM'S SONS</span></h6> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 56px;"> +<img src="images/image003.jpg" width="56" height="100" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<h6><i>Printed in the United States of America</i></h6> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<p><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 330px;"> +<img src="images/image001.jpg" width="330" height="400" alt="HOLBROOK BLINN AS "THE BAD MAN."" title="" /> +<span class="caption">HOLBROOK BLINN AS "THE BAD MAN."</span> +</div> + + +<h3>To</h3> + +<h3>HOLBROOK BLINN</h3> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6"></a></p> +<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS</h2> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'>CHAPTER</td><td align='left'>PAGE</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>I.—Wherein it is shown that a young American had the courage to come into</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>a new country; how fate played against him, and a neighbor looked longingly</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>at his ranch</td><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_I"><b>3</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>II.—Wherein, far away, another man hears whispers of the wealth along the</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>border, and comes down to see about it</td><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_II"><b>11</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>III.—Wherein Uncle Henry speaks his mind—as usual</td><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_III"><b>32</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>IV.—Wherein "Red" reveals his heart, and Mrs. Quinn gives him good coffee</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>and good advice</td><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_IV"><b>52</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>V.—Wherein Gilbert Jones is worried, and Lucia Pell is asked to do an</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>impossible thing</td><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_V"><b>62</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>VI.—Wherein an old love awakens, Pell reveals his true colors, a mortgage</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>is about to be foreclosed, the contents of a satchel are made known, Uncle</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Henry springs a sensation, and Pell takes an option</td><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_VI"><b>78</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>VII.—Wherein Lucia sees treachery brewing, Pell proves himself a brute,</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>and an unexpected guest appears</td><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_VII"><b>129</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>VIII.—Wherein the bandit expounds a new philosophy, and makes marionettes</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>of the Americans</td><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII"><b>141</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>IX.—Wherein Uncle Henry chatters some more, there is an auction, and</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>things look black indeed</td><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_IX"><b>160</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>X.—Wherein an old friendship comes to life, Lopez learns a thing or two,</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>and finally makes a match</td><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_X"><b>176</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>XI.—Wherein a man proves himself a craven, a shot rings out, and the bad</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>man explains one little hour</td><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XI"><b>206</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>XII.—Wherein the bad man cannot understand the good man, and disappears;</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>and a dead man stirs</td><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XII"><b>216</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>XIII.—Wherein an old situation seems about to be repeated, another shot is</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>fired, and the bad man comes back</td><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII"><b>242</b></a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>XIV.—Wherein an old friend returns, and there is a joyful reunion</td><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV"><b>267</b></a></td></tr> +</table></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10"></a></p> +<h2><a name="THE_BAD_MAN" id="THE_BAD_MAN"></a>THE BAD MAN</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<h4>WHEREIN IT IS SHOWN THAT A YOUNG AMERICAN HAD THE COURAGE TO COME INTO A +NEW COUNTRY; HOW FATE PLAYED AGAINST HIM, AND A NEIGHBOR LOOKED LONGINGLY +AT HIS RANCH</h4> + + +<p>Looking back now, after so many months of struggle and foreboding, he +wondered how he had ever had the high courage to come to this strange +country. Had he been a few years older he would not have started forth—he +was sure of that now. But the flame of youth was in him, the sure sense +that he could conquer where others had miserably failed; and, like all +virile young Americans, he had love of adventure, and zest for the unknown +was in his blood. The glamour of Arizona lured him; the color of these +great hills and mountains he had <a name="Page_11" id="Page_11"></a>come to love captivated him from the +first. It was as if a siren beckoned, and he had to follow.</p> + +<p>For days he had been worried almost to the breaking point. Things had not +shaped themselves as he had planned. Event piled upon event, and now +disaster—definite disaster—threatened to descend upon him.</p> + +<p>All morning, despite the intense heat, he had been about the ranch, +appraising this and that, mentally; pottering in the shed; looking at his +horses—the few that were left!—smiling at the thought of his wheezing +Ford, wondering just when he would clear out altogether.</p> + +<p>Not that young Gilbert Jones was a pessimist. And yet he wasn't one of +those damnable Pollyanna optimists he so abominated—the kind who went +about saying continually that God was in His heaven and all was right with +the world. No, indeed! He was just a normal, regular fellow, ready to face +a difficult situation when it came about as the natural result of a series +of events. He saw the impending catastrophe as the logical finale of many +happenings—for some of which he was not in any way responsible.</p> + +<p>Who could have foreseen the Great War, for instance? Surely <i>that</i> was not +his fault! A pitiful <a name="Page_12" id="Page_12"></a>archduke was murdered in a European city. He +remembered reading about it, and then instantly dismissing it from his mind +as of no consequence. He never connected himself with so remote an event. +Yet a few years later he, with many others, was fighting in France—a +lieutenant in the United States Army—just because a shot had been fired at +a man he had never heard of!</p> + +<p>A strange world, he pondered, as he looked out over the blue hills, heavy +with heat, and meandering away to God knows where.</p> + +<p>Then, surely it was no fault of his if the Government under which he lived +made no strenuous effort to stop the Mexican massacres of American citizens +all along the border. One firm word, one splendid gesture, and daring raids +would have ceased; and there would have been no menace of bandits +hereabouts. It would have been a country fit to live in. There would have +developed a feeling of permanence and peace, and a young chap could have +made his plans for the future with some sense of security and high +optimism. Surely they were entitled to protection—these brave boys and +stalwart sons of America who fearlessly took up claims, staked all, and +strove to make homes in this thrilling section along the borderland. They +were not <a name="Page_13" id="Page_13"></a>mere adventurers; they were pioneers. They were of the best stuff +that America contained—clean-cut, clear-eyed, with level heads and high +hearts. Yet their own Government did not think enough of them to offer them +the sure protection they were entitled to.</p> + +<p>Gilbert looked back on that distant day when he had gone up to Bisbee and +purchased four head of cattle, and brought them himself to this ranch he +had purchased, happy as only a fool is happy. Within a week they had +mysteriously disappeared.</p> + +<p>Rumors of Mexican thieves and assassins had come to him, as they had come +to all the young land-owners along the line. He recalled how, after one +raid, in which a good citizen had been foully murdered in his bed, he had +called a meeting of the ranchers in their section, and with one voice they +agreed to send a protest to Washington.</p> + +<p>They did so. Nothing happened. An aching silence followed. They wrote +again; and then one day a pale acknowledgment of their communication came +in one of those long and important-looking unstamped envelopes. It seemed +very official, very impressive. But mere looks never helped any cause. They +were not naïve enough to expect the Secretary of State to come down in +<a name="Page_14" id="Page_14"></a>person and see to the mending of things. But a platoon of soldiers—a +handful of troops—would have worked wonders. Jones always contended that +not a shot would have to be fired; no more deaths on either side would be +necessary. The mere presence of a few men in uniform would have the desired +effect. The bandits, now prowling about, would slink over the invisible +border to their own territory, and never be heard of again. Of that he felt +confident.</p> + +<p>But no! Watchful waiting was the watchword—or the catchword. And the +eternal and infernal raids went on.</p> + +<p>It was while they were having their community meeting that he had come to +know Jasper Hardy and his young daughter Angela, who occupied the next +ranch, about a mile and a half south of his. Before that he had been too +busy to bother about neighbors. "Red" Giddings, his foreman, had spoken +once or twice about "some nice folks down the line," but he hadn't heard +much of what he said. There were always a hundred and one odd jobs to be +done around the place—something was forever needing attention; and when +Uncle Henry wasn't grumbling about something, he was forcing his nephew to +play checkers or cribbage or cards <a name="Page_15" id="Page_15"></a>with him. And, working so hard all day, +he was glad to turn in early at night. Social life, therefore—unless you +could call high words with a crabbed invalid a form of social life—didn't +come within Gilbert's ken. It was work, work, work, and the desire to make +good every moment for him.</p> + +<p>But Hardy proved to be an aggressive fighter when the meeting took place, +and spoke in sharp tones of the Government's dilatoriness. He had come to +Arizona right after his wife's death in the East, and brought his only +daughter and a few servants with him. He seemed to have plenty of money, +and he was anxious lest the invading Mexicans should get any of it away +from him. His holdings, in the eight years since he had come to the border, +amounted to several thousand well-cultivated acres; and he looked like a +man who, when he set out to get anything, would get it. He had an +inordinate desire to grab up some more territory. Tall and thin, and +sharp-featured, as well as sharp-tongued, he resembled a hawk. It was +difficult to realize the fact that the pert and lovely little Angela—who +lived up to her name only once in a while!—was his own flesh and blood. It +was as incongruous as though a rose had grown on a beanstalk.</p><p><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16"></a></p> + +<p>On their very first meeting, Gilbert had not been pleasantly impressed with +Hardy. But he soon saw that the man had a certain rugged strength, and +there was no doubt he had suffered from the depredations of Mexico's casual +visitors, and was ready to protect not only his own interests but those of +any newcomers. He seemed to have the spirit of fair-mindedness; and he +believed firmly in the possibilities of this magic land, particularly for +young men. "It's God's country," he told Gilbert on more than one occasion. +"Get into the soil all you can. Dig—and dig deep."</p> + +<p>He said this over and over. It ran like a refrain through every +conversation he had with anyone. He preached the gospel of labor. And he +did work himself; there was no shadow of doubt as to that. He had struck +oil himself, and had made a goodly extra pile. Now, unknown to young Jones, +he was casting envious eyes on his ranch; and when the war came and Gilbert +went overseas in a burst of fine patriotism, and later came other +disasters, he was quick to snatch his opportunity.</p> + +<p>Why go to Bisbee, he told Jones, to see who would take up his mortgage? +What were neighbors for, if not to come in handy in such unpleasant +emergencies? And he laughed.</p><p><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17"></a></p> + +<p>The long and short of it was that Hardy took an option on Gilbert's +property, and held it at this very moment. It was better so, thought +Gilbert. Better to be foreclosed by a friendly neighbor, who might hesitate +to drive one out at the last moment, than under the thumb of some unknown +individual way down the valley.</p> + +<p>Four years of it—and he had come to this! Well, he'd take his medicine +like a man. He had done his best, and no one could do more.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18"></a></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<h4>WHEREIN, FAR AWAY, ANOTHER MAN HEARS WHISPERS OF THE WEALTH ALONG THE +BORDER, AND COMES DOWN TO SEE ABOUT IT</h4> + + +<p>Up North there was a man with a jaw like a rock, and hard, steel-gray eyes. +He had his fingers on the pulse of business, and employed agents everywhere +to serve his interests. His office in New York, in the heart of the great +financial district, was like a telephone exchange—he the central who +controlled the wires, put in and drew out the plugs, and played the +fascinating game of connecting himself with any "party" he thought worth +while. A shrewd, inveterate gambler, he was without scruples. He lived for +one purpose: to make money. For one person: Morgan Pell.</p> + +<p>There had been whispers concerning his methods. They were often +questionable, to say the least; but, like all men who work quietly beneath +the surface <a name="Page_19" id="Page_19"></a>of the world of business, Pell covered up his tracks with as +much genius as he displayed in consummating a big deal. There should be no +loose ends if he was ever charged with corruption. Down in his soul he knew +he was a coward. He could not face disgrace, any more than he could face +the guns of battle. If his pillow was not always a restful one at night; if +he tossed more than he should at his age—he was but thirty-eight—no one +knew it. His conscience smote him now and then. In his earlier days he had +tricked a widow and caused her to be separated from her last penny. +Afterwards, he learned she had committed suicide. He shuddered. In fact, he +suffered a little for two long years. Then he forgot about her. Life was +life, and though it played unfairly with some, to others it gave beds of +roses; and after all we were but puppets of fate, and each must take his +chances, and not complain if he did not hold the winning hand. There were +only so many to go around. A lottery—that's what it was. And just as +people left a card table, a few widows and orphans had to clear out of the +big gambling-hall of life. It was as plain as day.</p> + +<p>To a man like Pell, a wife was a necessity—but only a secondary +consideration. Of course he must <a name="Page_20" id="Page_20"></a>marry, keep up an expensive ménage, and +prove to the world that he was successful even where women were concerned. +He must give his wife the proper background, do all the necessary things; +furnish the right setting for his jewel. Children? Bah! They were not +essential. He had no paternal instinct whatever. Enough that he should +support in luxury and affluence the woman he deigned to make his wife, and +entertain in his home the people who could and would be of use to him.</p> + +<p>Every least act of his life was arranged, specifications written, plans +drawn, and blueprints made. One day he decided that he wished a beautiful +Italian villa on the north shore of Long Island. He pressed a button, +ordered his secretary to get in touch immediately with his architect; and a +half-hour later the latter was at his desk ready to talk of the nebulous +house. Within twenty-four hours he had arranged everything—not a detail +was forgotten.</p> + +<p>That is how he did things. He set out to find a wife in the same +matter-of-fact manner. He met many women; but Lucia Fennell was the only +one who set his pulse beating a little faster. He felt it a shame that he +should be so weak. They were at <a name="Page_21" id="Page_21"></a>a dinner-party at the country home of a +mutual friend.</p> + +<p>It was her eyes that held him first. He had never seen quite such +eyes—blue, with a curious depth that spoke of many things—the eyes of a +girl who, had he been wiser, he would have known had been in love before. +This was the type of woman who never loved but once, and then with all her +strength beyond her own high dreams of what love should be. But though Pell +could appraise men, judge them swiftly and surely, he was a fool where a +girl was concerned. He had never spent much time on them. Frankly, they +bored him. He liked far better the subtle game of finance. He had no +finesse in a world of women, and he would have been the easiest possible +prey of an adventuress.</p> + +<p>But Lucia was far from that. Of the best family, with old traditions, she +moved among the set she wished; but society, so called, did not appeal to +her. She preferred people with brains rather than the idle rich; and she +had traveled a great deal, and known the world in strange places. She was +very young when she met the one man of all men for her. Like all women of +great beauty she had known many men who were infatuated with her. Those +gifts and attentions which are the rightful <a name="Page_22" id="Page_22"></a>dower of every charming girl +were hers in abundance; and she received them as a queen might have done +from subjects hardly worthy to sit beside her. Then she met—one man.</p> + +<p>It was during a trip she had made with her aunt through New England. He was +poor. To her, that made no difference. She would have gone with him to the +ends of the earth. The flame had touched her heart; she was a victim, like +many another; and when her lover, too proud to ask her to share his poverty +with her, stayed behind when she went back to New York, and failed to write +to her, she almost died of grief. But life had to be faced. One word from +her—she, too, was proud,—and there might have been a different story to +tell. But with the foolish self-consciousness of lovers, each failed the +other in the great moment that would have sealed their destinies.</p> + +<p>Lucia determined that this broken affair should not wreck her existence. +But she brooded long, in secret, and would go nowhere. Her aunt, with whom +she lived, could not rouse her for many months to a sense of the vivid +world around her. She would see no one.</p> + +<p>Two years later Morgan Pell came into her life, at almost the first dinner +she had attended during <a name="Page_23" id="Page_23"></a>a long period of time. His impulsiveness, his +assurance, his faith in himself and his power to win her, swept her +temporarily off her feet. At their second meeting he asked her to become +his wife. Why not? She would never love anyone; but she could not go to the +altar with him unless she told him the truth. She did not love him. Was he +willing to take her, knowing this?</p> + +<p>He was. Love meant little to him—though he did not say so. He was just +wise enough to keep that secret within himself.</p> + +<p>"I'll make you love me," he told her, with all the ardor he could put into +his voice. Few women can withstand that age-old phrase.</p> + +<p>There followed a time of utter disillusion for her. The great house on the +Avenue proved to be but four bleak walls; and when the villa on Long Island +was built, she tried to be as enthusiastic as Morgan wanted her to be. He +lavished gifts upon her. He brought out gay house-parties for weekends. +Lucia did her best to keep her part of a bad bargain. She made herself +lovely, and Pell was proud of her physical charms. The jewel was worth the +finest settings, and these he supplied, with no thought of the cost. He had +someone at the head of his table of whom he was very proud.<a name="Page_24" id="Page_24"></a> The world need +never know the solemnity of their lives when the curtain was lowered and +they were alone together. After all, many marriages were like this. Theirs +was by no means an exceptional case; and he experienced a curious secret +joy in the fact that he knew other men envied him his wife, and wondered at +his power to hold her.</p> + +<p>And so the months rolled by, with a trip abroad now and then to relieve the +tedium of existence. For a woman to know that she comes to be tolerated +only because she is decorative, is a consummating blow. Pell soon reached +the point where he told Lucia he had bought her, body and soul. He had +determined to win her love. When he saw that he could not, he swiftly +forgot the integrity of her part of the bargain, the honesty of her words +to him before they were married; and he practised subtle cruelties to tame +her and bring her at last to him.</p> + +<p>He began to drink too much. Only a certain pride in his business affairs, +the desire to keep a level head, a clear brain, kept him from sinking +definitely to the gutter. He became irritable with her. Nothing she did +pleased him. He found he could not wound her sufficiently when he was +sober; so he fortified himself with alcohol, gained <a name="Page_25" id="Page_25"></a>courage to speak flat +truths, and left her alone for days at a time, thinking such absences were +a punishment.</p> + +<p>Had he but known it, they were the only bright oases in her monotonous +life. She blessed those hours when he mercifully remained away on the +pretext of business. What he did gave her little concern.</p> + +<p>Once she ventured to talk frankly with him about the wisdom of a legal +separation. It was foolish to go on in this way. It was dishonest; it was +the only immorality.</p> + +<p>He laughed her to scorn. "You're too useful to me, my dear," he sneered. He +always added that "my dear" to any statement when he wished to be +thoroughly sarcastic.</p> + +<p>He was conscious that certain captains of business would not have come so +frequently to his home if Lucia had not been there to dispense a supposedly +gracious hospitality. Let her go? Lose all this? Not at all! He brutally +told her so again and again. And finally she made up her mind, for the sake +of peace, that she would merely remain the flower under glass, if that was +his desire. Arguments were of no avail. In a sense, she was beaten.</p> + +<p>The opera, books, travel, a few good friends—those <a name="Page_26" id="Page_26"></a>that Morgan allowed +her to keep—these filled her days.</p> + +<p>One evening she was particularly surprised when he said to her, casually:</p> + +<p>"How would you like a little trip out West? You look peaked. Maybe it would +set you up."</p> + +<p>"Why—it sounds nice, Morgan," she answered. "Is it business, or—" Her +sense of humor made it impossible for her to bring out the word "pleasure."</p> + +<p>"Of course it's business," he replied. "Precious little else I get." They +were dining alone, at home, and he motioned the butler to refill his glass +with champagne.</p> + +<p>She wondered at his suggestion. There must be something behind it. But as a +matter of fact she was tired of Long Island, and if she could kill a few +weeks—maybe a few months—in the West, she would willingly go.</p> + +<p>"Sturgis telegraphed me that there was a big possibility of a new vein of +oil down on the border," Pell was telling her. "Some important men want to +talk things over with me at Bisbee. I want to get started in a day or two. +Don't take your maid. It's a rough country, but you'll be all right. Just +old clothes. You can ride a lot, so bring your <a name="Page_27" id="Page_27"></a>habit. I'll be busy most of +the time; but I think you'll like the trip. Never been down that way, have +you?"</p> + +<p>"No," she said. "And I've always wanted to go."</p> + +<p>"Not afraid of bandits?" he laughed, sipping his champagne. "It's right +next door to Mexico, you know. Have some swell times down there, they say."</p> + +<p>She laughed too. "How exciting," she said. She grew almost jubilant at the +prospect of the journey. She knew she would probably be "shown off" to the +important men; and that touched her vanity—what little she had left by +now.</p> + +<p>"They tell me it's God's country, with big chances for everyone. I want to +add to our little pile, Lucia," Pell went on. He hoped she would get the +significance of the "our."</p> + +<p>"You're too good to me, Morgan," she said, and meant it. "But why do we +need any more money? We've got everything now."</p> + +<p>"Everything?" he said, significantly; and his eyes became two narrow slits +as he looked at her.</p> + +<p>She toyed with her salad. She hoped he was not going to get into one of his +fiendishly unpleasant moods.</p><p><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28"></a></p> + +<p>"Well," she ventured, "as much as anyone could reasonably want. This house, +the garden, friends—"</p> + +<p>"Yes," he sneered, "but not much love." The butler had tactfully withdrawn. +"Why don't you love me, Lucia?"</p> + +<p>"I do—in a way. Oh, let's don't go into all that again, Morgan. We've had +it out so many times. What's the use?"</p> + +<p>"Is there anyone else?" he asked. "If I thought there was...." He lifted +his glass again.</p> + +<p>"You know there isn't," she protested.</p> + +<p>He appraised her across the table, beautiful in a blue gown which just +matched her eyes, her throat adorned with a string of pearls he had given +her on the anniversary of their marriage.</p> + +<p>"I don't see how a woman as lovely as you can be so cold," he said. "You +could do anything with men."</p> + +<p>She tried to smile. "But I don't want to. Women—good women—don't like to +play with fire. It's only adventuresses who dare to face danger.... But +let's talk about Arizona. How good it will be to get out of this hothouse +of the East, and see real people—real flesh-and-blood men and women."</p><p><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29"></a></p> + +<p>"Yes. The folks down there know more about life in a day than we do in all +our pitiful lives. You've got to live close to nature to understand human +nature. Simple, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Very. We're all so false up here. I get so tired of it, Morgan. Maybe down +there we'll come to a better understanding of each other. Maybe...."</p> + +<p>"That's what I was hoping. So you'd like to go—really?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed. It'll be hot, that's all. But I won't mind that. Anything to +get away for awhile."</p> + +<p>Two days later they had started. The land was green with early summer, in +that rich fullness which makes the heart almost sick with ecstasy. The +farther west they went, the wilder the country grew; and when they finally +dipped down into Arizona, Lucia looked from the train window, her face +alight with joy. Such scenic variety she had never dreamed of. One moment +they were looking at the wonderful mesas and superb canyons; the next they +seemed to pass through dry gullies and great shallow basins. Then there +would come long, weary levels of sand that gleamed in the sun; and far away +she would behold tremendous buttes. The valleys they passed through were +verdant and <a name="Page_30" id="Page_30"></a>lovely. Cattle grazed here in a calm peace. It was as if the +rest of the world were shut out, and in this quiet land a special blessing +had come down. The peace of it, the stillness of it crowded in upon her. +She had been to California, but always she had traveled by a northern +route, and had missed the wonder of this part of the world. Before their +journey was over, she had begged Morgan to take her to the Grand Canyon; +and for two days they remained there, drinking in the glory of perhaps the +most beautiful spot on the western continent. She could not get enough of +it—those colors that sank into her heart and consciousness and made her +think she was in paradise. To see the sun rise here—she almost wept that +morning when the lord of heaven came over the mountains that towered like +huge sentinels, impervious to wind and gale and rain.</p> + +<p>"I can't stand such beauty, Morgan," she said at last. "It takes something +out of me. We'll have to go on."</p> + +<p>She saw the giant cactus in full bloom, a miracle of orange, pink, and +crimson; and as they sped south the mountainsides were aflame with juniper +and manzanita.</p> + +<p>At last they reached the little town of Bisbee, <a name="Page_31" id="Page_31"></a>where Morgan was to have a +conference with several engineers. Sturgis met them—a fair-haired fellow +with a captivating smile. He liked this country, and told Pell he wished he +could always be kept here. There was no doubt about the new vein of oil, +and new ranches were being opened up rapidly. Only a few miles away was one +that promised well; and the young chap on it was in money difficulties. A +good chance to step in. There had been rumors that a neighbor had taken up +his mortgage; but maybe this was not so. Perhaps they weren't too late. He +had telephoned over, and the youngster had agreed that Pell and his wife +could come and stay with him and his invalid uncle for awhile. Of course he +knew nothing of their intentions. That would never do. They would just lie +low. In fact, he, Sturgis, need not accompany them, except to the hotel. +The ranch-owner's foreman would fetch them out in a Ford. Not a bad trip at +all—only a few miles. It would be better to stop down there. They could +comb the country, get acquainted, see how things were, and keep a vigilant +eye on everything.</p> + +<p>Sturgis had arranged things nicely. "Red" Giddings came over, as planned, +and Lucia liked his pleasant face at once. He was full of enthusiasm <a name="Page_32" id="Page_32"></a>for +the country, loved the outdoor life. "Mr. Jones has had hard luck, though," +he said, as they whirled along the road on an afternoon of unbelievable +heat.</p> + +<p>"Jones!" Lucia said.</p> + +<p>"Yes—Gilbert Jones," Giddings replied. "Ever hear of him?"</p> + +<p>For an instant Lucia could hardly see the valley that spread around them. +But it couldn't be possible! It was a common name; there could easily be +two Gilberts—fifty, for that matter. Was this the reason Morgan had asked +her to come? Had he discovered the man with whom she had once been in love, +and was this to be one of his subtle punishments? He had told her not to +bring her maid, and he had been mysterious, she remembered now, as to their +exact destination. But Sturgis had made it clear, on the contrary, that he +had accidentally learned of Jones's ranch. Maybe that was part of the +trick. But what good would come of such a scheme? She and Jones had +loved—and parted. Moreover, perhaps she was giving herself needless cause +for worry. This might not be the Gilbert Jones of her dreams. And what if +Morgan did know? There was nothing to conceal.</p><p><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33"></a></p> + +<p>"How—long has he been here?" Lucia wanted to know.</p> + +<p>"Oh, before the war we agreed to try our fortune together down here," "Red" +told her; and the little machine went whirring along. "That's the Hardy +ranch," he said, pointing to the left. "Nice folks." His eyes seemed to +cling to the low house, and Lucia did not realize it at the time, but he +slowed up the car. Presently a young girl came out on the stone terrace and +waved to him. She was like a prairie flower. "Red" Giddings became another +man in the twinkling of an eye. A flush mounted to his cheeks, and a smile +as broad as a fat man's belt all but encircled his countenance. He took one +hand from the wheel and waved until they were out of sight down a curve in +the road.</p> + +<p>"Friend of yours?" said Morgan Pell, smiling.</p> + +<p>"You bet! No finer little girl in this territory!" Giddings replied +promptly.</p> + +<p>They were now in sight of the Jones ranch. "There she is!" "Red" cried. +"Pretty, eh?"</p> + +<p>The low adobe house, with its gleaming roof, looked like a jewel set in the +valley. Far away, seemingly to the very rim of the world, the flat lands +stretched; and then beyond, in a golden haze, the stern mountains loomed, +almost kissing <a name="Page_34" id="Page_34"></a>the sky. The range dwindled away in an endless line, and +one could never say where the boundary of Arizona stopped and the unseen +border of Mexico began. The two countries simply merged in the mist. It was +as if a battalion of petrified soldiers kept eternal guard in the sun, half +the line loping over into another camp, but never caring at all. In the +still heat of the afternoon, sagebrush lifted its bright face to the +heavens; and now and then a lonely bird swooped above the rich ranches and +desolate valleys, making a black dot against the sky. A soft wind was +blowing now, bringing mercy from the west, and silence brooded like an +angel, stretching out its wings as though to shelter a troubled world.</p> + +<p>A young man with black hair and tanned skin came out in the yard, hatless. +A gray flannel shirt and a flowing tie, high leggings that laced through +many brass clips, completed his picturesque costume.</p> + +<p>One look—and she knew it was Gilbert—<i>her</i> Gilbert. He recognized her at +the same instant, and a curious light came into his dark eyes. She had been +thinking, all the way down the road, how she should greet him if indeed he +turned out to be that one man in the world. Calmly, yes. She was <a name="Page_35" id="Page_35"></a>sure now +that Morgan knew and suspected nothing. It was simply a coincidence that +they should be coming to the adobe of this old love of hers. The long arm +of fate had reached out and snatched her into this ring. She knew that +Gilbert could meet the situation as seemingly unconcerned as she. There was +nothing at all to fear.</p> + +<p>He was their host, and he greeted them as only a good host knows how. +Fortunately, Morgan wanted to go directly to his room. He was cross and +tired, he said, and he desired to freshen up.</p> + +<p>She got out of the car, and "Red" rattled down to the home-made garage a +few rods away.</p> + +<p>They were alone; and they stood there in the path for a moment, looking +into each other's eyes.</p> + +<p>"He is my husband," Lucia then found herself saying. "I am now Mrs. Pell."</p> + +<p>"What are we going to do?" Gilbert asked. He had the face of a dreamer, she +thought. The steel-gray eyes were full of fire and longing. What had these +few years done to him?</p> + +<p>"We are going to do nothing at all. What <i>is</i> there to do? We shall not be +here many days. If you'd rather we went back to Bisbee...."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no! That would only make an issue of nothing. He doesn't know +anything? You're <a name="Page_36" id="Page_36"></a>sure? Oh, Lucia!" He seemed suddenly overcome at their +amazing meeting.</p> + +<p>She saw that she would have to be the mistress of the situation. +"Don't—don't, Gilbert," she begged. "I am just a guest of yours."</p> + +<p>"I know—I know," he said, and there was a shade of anguish in his voice. +"Forgive me. There shall be absolutely nothing said. Not even a gesture. I +promise you that. It is as though we had never known each other."</p> + +<p>"Surely we can play a part. It isn't as if we were children," she said, and +smiled.</p> + +<p>He looked at her—indeed, his eyes had never left her face. Never had she +seemed so wonderful to him.</p> + +<p>"I'm in bad," he told her. "Got to give the old place up. But what's that +to you?" There was a sound behind them. "Here comes Uncle Henry!"</p> + +<p>A wheel chair came out of the doorway. In it sat an old man of about sixty. +But he did not look much like an invalid. His cheeks were rosy, and his +abundant white hair was brushed back from a forehead of fine moulding. His +eyes were penetrating—as young as Gilbert's, almost. Ten years before he +had become paralyzed in his legs, and <a name="Page_37" id="Page_37"></a>now he wheeled himself about, not at +all uncomfortable.</p> + +<p>"Uncle Henry, this is Mrs. Pell. Come out and meet her," his nephew said.</p> + +<p>Lucia felt that she should go to the invalid; but he beat her to it. Quick +as a billiard-ball he had reached her side, turning the wheels of his chair +with great rapidity.</p> + +<p>"Pleased to meet you," he said, and put out a white hand. "How long you +goin' to stay?"</p> + +<p>"What a question," Gilbert laughed. "As long as she and her husband wish, +of course."</p> + +<p>"Well, by cricketty ginger!" Henry Smith exclaimed. "Hope you'll give 'em +enough to eat!" And before anyone could say another word, he had turned and +scooted back into the house.</p> + +<p>"Don't mind Uncle Henry," Gilbert said to Lucia. "He's got a heart of gold, +but he can be cranky and eccentric sometimes. Maybe he's got one of his +moods to-day. I never know. Tomorrow he'll be all right—perhaps. I hope +so, anyhow.... But come inside. You must be tired after your trip. Your +rooms are upstairs."</p> + +<p>He led her into the prettiest low-beamed room she thought she had ever +seen. Indian pottery was all about, low settles, a fireplace that conjured +up a <a name="Page_38" id="Page_38"></a>cozy picture of lonely winter evenings, and an entrancing staircase +without a balustrade that led to a dark blue door. On the walls were some +beautiful Navajo blankets, and a tiny alcove off to the right seemed to +lead to another part of the long low house. The windows were brightly +curtained, and all the furniture had a look of endurance and permanence—a +manly room, she thought. Yet how ironical this appearance of firmness and +stability was, in view of the reason of their visit! He had said he must +give the place up. What a wrench it would be for him!</p> + +<p>Women seldom like to see a bachelor—particularly a young bachelor—living +in such solid comfort. As Lucia went up the stairs, she saw little touches +she could give to the place. But she had to confess that the improvements +she could suggest were not at all important. If two men could get along so +well without feminine society, perhaps one of them didn't miss her much, +after all!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39"></a></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<h4>WHEREIN UNCLE HENRY SPEAKS HIS MIND—AS USUAL</h4> + + +<p>It was high noon, two days later. Gilbert again had been about the ranch +looking things over. He had his dreamy moments, but he was far too +practical to let the poet in him rule his life. One sensed, by the most +cursory glance, that here was a type of virile young American who could not +only dream, but make his dreams come true. No idler he! And he had no use +for idlers. He had dared to come to this far country, establish himself on +a ranch, and seek to win out in the face of overwhelming odds.</p> + +<p>How many other young men had staked all on a single game—and lost. That +was one of the finest qualities of the Americans who migrated to this vast +section of the country. They were always good losers, as well as modest +winners. The land <a name="Page_40" id="Page_40"></a>was rich in possibilities, as Sturgis had told Pell; and +though the hot season lasted interminably and caused one's spirits, as well +as one's hopes, to droop, there were enchanting spring days and bright, +colorful, dwindling autumns when the air was keen and clear, and life was a +song with youth for its eternal theme.</p> + +<p>Men with families bore the hardest burdens in their early struggle for +success. Gilbert, being single, had less to worry about than many another; +but his Uncle Henry was a handicap. For Uncle Henry used his invalid's +chair much as a king might use his throne—a vantage place from which to +hurl his tyrannous speeches. And there was no come-back. Uncle Henry had +reigned too long to be fearful of any retort from any mere subject who +walked about on two firm legs. For ten years he had held court, moving his +little throne about with sudden jerks. When things did not go entirely his +way, he could always withdraw—expertly, swiftly, cleverly. Doorsills were +nothing to him. He skimmed them dexterously, as a regiment might storm a +hill. Fortunately, he suffered no pain, though sometimes, in a frenzy, he +affected a twinge in his body, and caused a helpless look to sweep over his +countenance. As a rule, this trick worked <a name="Page_41" id="Page_41"></a>beautifully; for who could be +cruel to an invalid in pain? Being a bachelor, and having no relative +closer than Gilbert, the latter took him under his roof. He really liked +the old boy, despite his querulousness.</p> + +<p>To-day, Uncle Henry was in one of his temperamental moods. Gilbert, sitting +calmly at the little table, writing, in the low main room of the adobe, +could hear the chair whirling about, each wheel vocal, and revealing the +state of mind of the occupant.</p> + +<p>"Gosh! ain't it hot!" finally came from Uncle Henry, his voice a drawl.</p> + +<p>Gilbert said nothing. There was nothing to say. Of course it was hot; and +he knew Uncle Henry could be depended upon to continue any conversation +once begun. Sure enough, it wasn't the weather at all that he was deeply +interested in, but the forthcoming midday meal. "Say, ain't we never goin' +to eat? I'm as hungry as a bear."</p> + +<p>"Dinner ought to be ready now," Gilbert answered patiently, never looking +up from his paper.</p> + +<p>Uncle Henry was not satisfied. "Then why ain't it," he rasped, giving his +chair a twist, "I ain't had nothin' but a rotten cup of coffee since five +o'clock this mornin'."</p><p><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42"></a></p> + +<p>His nephew rose, and went over to the mantel-piece. How often he had heard +just that remark! He didn't bother to reply to it. Instead, he merely +silenced his uncle with a gesture. Uncle Henry didn't like being silenced. +He looked around, as peevish as a spoiled child, and picked at the cloth +that rested on his knees. Then he switched his chair within reach of the +table, and snatched up a newspaper, much as a boy might grab the brass ring +at a merry-go-round. He would read, if he couldn't make his nephew talk; +and he buried himself in the printed page. Gilbert, having lighted his +pipe, went back to his writing. "Well, what do you know about that!" +exclaimed Uncle Henry, his face aglow.</p> + +<p>"About what, Uncle?"</p> + +<p>"Why, Ezry Pringle's dead."</p> + +<p>"Who's Ezry Pringle?" Gilbert asked, feigning an interest he did not feel.</p> + +<p>"A friend o' mine. Only seventy years old, too. He was right in the prime +of life."</p> + +<p>Gilbert smiled. "What's that paper you're reading?"</p> + +<p>"The <i>Bangor Daily Commercial</i>, printed at Bangor, Maine. An' that's the +only decent town in the whole gol darn world. Wisht I was there <a name="Page_43" id="Page_43"></a>now!" He +glanced at the alcove that led to another room, as if conscious that Morgan +Pell might have heard him. He wanted to say something more to Gilbert, but +something told him he had better keep silent. Instead, he read an item from +the paper aloud to him. "Listen to this, Gilbert," he said: "'The Elite +Fish Market has just received five barrels of soft clams from Eastport. Get +there early, feller citizens! They won't last long.' Think o' that, +Gilbert? Clams!" He smacked his lips, and even forgot how warm it was. +"Clams! An' I ain't even seen one in five long years! Not even a clam!" He +turned his chair suddenly, and looked out of the open door, where the +country meandered away. "This is a hell of a hole! Why did we ever come +down here?" he whined. He swung about again, and faced his nephew. "Say, +Gil, do they have clams in France?"</p> + +<p>"No; only mussels. Good ones, too."</p> + +<p>Uncle Henry looked amazed. "They eat mussels?" he cried.</p> + +<p>Gilbert looked up, smiled, and nodded.</p> + +<p>"An' I hear they eat frogs, an' hosses, an' cheese with worms in it, too. +Say," the old man wanted to know, "what don't they eat over there?...<a name="Page_44" id="Page_44"></a> An' +speakin' of eatin', ain't we never goin' to have no dinner?"</p> + +<p>"I think it'll be ready soon, Uncle. Do be patient. I want to write."</p> + +<p>Uncle Henry settled back in his chair, and for a brief interval became +absorbed in his newspaper. But not for long could he remain silent. +"Where's that Mr. Pell?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Inside, I think, lying down," Gilbert replied, nodding toward the alcove, +his pen rushing across the page.</p> + +<p>Uncle Henry made a grimace. "He makes me sick, that feller."</p> + +<p>"Oh, cut that out, Uncle," Gilbert implored; but there was a little note of +irritation in his voice. "That's no way to talk of a guest under our roof."</p> + +<p>"I won't neither cut nothin' out! An' you make me sick too, you gol darn +fool!"</p> + +<p>"For the love of Mike, quit your babbling! Sssh!"</p> + +<p>"Don't you shush me, gol darn it!" cried Uncle Henry, crumpling the +newspaper in his hand and throwing it on the floor. The heat was affecting +him. "I've kep' still long enough, an'—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, have you?" Gilbert smiled.</p> + +<p>"—an' I'm goin' to find out what's what!"<a name="Page_45" id="Page_45"></a> Uncle Henry went on, as though +he had not been interrupted.</p> + +<p>"You act as though I were to blame for what's happened," his nephew said. +He saw it would do no good to lose his temper.</p> + +<p>"Well, ain't you? Why did you want to go to war in the first place? Why, +why?" He pounded the arm of his chair. "That's what started it."</p> + +<p>"Well, somebody had to go," Gilbert answered, smiling. "If some of us +hadn't taken things in our hands, I don't know what would have become of +Democracy!"</p> + +<p>Uncle Henry pondered a moment. "Mebbe so. But you didn't have to go." +Gilbert had risen to get a match, and his uncle's eye followed him to the +mantel-piece. He spoke to the back of his head. "You could have claimed +exemption if you'd wanted to, an' you know it."</p> + +<p>"Exemption?" Gilbert repeated the word, a little angry at its utterance. +This wasn't like Uncle Henry who, with all his peculiarities, had always +been a patriot.</p> + +<p>"Absolutely! You were the sole support of an invalid uncle." He waited for +the truth of this remark to sink in; but Gilbert said nothing. "And on top +of that," Uncle Henry went on, rapidly, <a name="Page_46" id="Page_46"></a>when his nephew did not speak, +"you were engaged in an essential industry—if you can call these rotten +steaks you feed us on essential. The bones is softer than the meat." He +gave a curious little laugh, thin and high.</p> + +<p>Gilbert went back to the table, leaned over, and put one hand +affectionately on the old man's shoulder. "Now, Uncle," he said, kindly, +"what's the use of going over all this again? You know how I dislike it." +He sat down and began to write again. But Uncle Henry had not finished—he +had just started.</p> + +<p>"What's the <i>use</i>?" he wheezed. "There's lots of use. Here you go an' +persuade me to sell the old home and buy this rotten ranch 'way down here +in this God-forsaken country. An' just when I, like a darned old fool, take +an' do it, along comes the war an' you enlist and leave me here with +nothin' but a lot of rotten cows!"</p> + +<p>"But I left the foreman and the cook," Gilbert reminded him.</p> + +<p>A look of scorn came over Uncle Henry's face, "Yes, 'Red' Giddings—playin' +the harmonicky until I go almost crazy! An' a Mexican cook that can't cook +nothin' but firecrackers! An' not even them when you want 'em!" He waited +for this <a name="Page_47" id="Page_47"></a>crowning touch to sink in. Infuriated by Gilbert's indifference, +he swung around again in his chair. "Say, ain't we <i>never</i> goin' to have no +dinner? I'm hungry!"</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry," was all Gilbert said.</p> + +<p>Uncle Henry almost resorted to tears—they were in his voice, at any rate. +"First you rob me an' then you starve me!" he all but screamed. "An' the +best you got to say is you're sorry!"</p> + +<p>Jones never looked up, as he continued to write. "I did the best I could, +Uncle. You know that, of course."</p> + +<p>A remark like that always exasperates the hearer. "If that's yer best, I'd +hate to see what yer worst is like," the other flamed. "An' now we're +broke, an' they're goin' to foreclose to-day!" he added. "By golly, mebbe +they've foreclosed already!"</p> + +<p>"No, not till eight o'clock," Gilbert's passionless manner was maddening.</p> + +<p>"Eight o'clock to-night?" his uncle cried, and leaned so far out of his +chair that he was in danger of falling to the floor.</p> + +<p>"Yes," Gilbert said, calmly.</p> + +<p>"You're crazy! Don't you know yet that courts don't stay open at night?" He +swung about in his frenzy and disgust.</p><p><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48"></a></p> + +<p>"This court does. Somebody told the judge where he could get a bottle of +liquor for eighteen dollars," Gilbert added, and smiled.</p> + +<p>"So if we don't get ten thousand dollars there by eight o'clock to-night, +we're set out on the bricks without no more home than a prairie dog—not as +much!" almost screamed Uncle Henry. "An' yet you say why talk about it?"</p> + +<p>"But it isn't getting us anywhere—just to sit around and complain," his +nephew tried to pacify him, rising, and starting toward him again; but +Uncle Henry didn't want to be so near him, knowing what he was going to say +next. Therefore he switched adroitly to the door, and let out, "No, it +ain't gettin' us anywhere; but it would if you'd marry Angela Hardy, like I +want you to!" He was a little frightened now that he had uttered the words, +and he looked anxiously at Gilbert to see their effect. The latter remained +as calm as ever. "But I don't love her," was all he said.</p> + +<p>Uncle Henry was exasperated now. "What's that got to do with it?" he +yelled. "Her father's rich, an' not even he, mean as he is, would foreclose +on his own son-in-law. Mebbe he'd even lend you somethin' besides," he +added, slyly. He had great faith in these neighbors down the valley.</p><p><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49"></a></p> + +<p>"I can't do it," Gilbert stated, as if he were discussing going to the +nearest town.</p> + +<p>"Won't, you mean."</p> + +<p>"No. I mean can't—just what I said. It wouldn't be fair to her. I can't +pretend to love her when I don't."</p> + +<p>"You don't have to," his uncle urged. "She's so crazy about you, she'd +marry you anyway." Triumphant knowledge was in his tone.</p> + +<p>"What makes you think so?" Gilbert asked, coming close to the old man.</p> + +<p>"She told me she would." He got it out bravely.</p> + +<p>Young Jones was nearly bowled over. "She told you!" he repeated; and as he +said it, passion for the first time came into his voice. There was the +sound of hoof beats down the road. But neither of them paid any attention.</p> + +<p>"Absolutely," the old man affirmed.</p> + +<p>"Absolutely?"</p> + +<p>"Absogoshdarnlutely!" Uncle Henry relieved the tension by saying.</p> + +<p>Gilbert came over and peered into his uncle's face. "You don't mean you +spoke to her about it?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Why not?" rather impudently. "Somebody had to do it." And he chuckled. "I +know what <a name="Page_50" id="Page_50"></a>would become of Hypocricy if a few of you youngsters would be as +brave as us old boys!"</p> + +<p>"Good Lord!" was all young Jones could say, and he put his hand to his +head.</p> + +<p>"John Alden spoke for Miles Standish, an' they wasn't even related," Uncle +Henry tried to placate the other.</p> + +<p>The horse on the road, unknown to the men, had reached the adobe. Lucia +Pell, radiant as a prairie flower, appeared at the door. She wore a +riding-habit that fit her to perfection, and her hair, tumbled a bit by the +soft breeze, fell around her face in a cascade of golden loveliness. Her +eyes sparkled. She was the picture of glorious health and youth—a woman +born for love and loving. She brought fragrance into the room.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Gil!" she said, beating her riding-crop on her boot, and smiling +that entrancing smile of hers. She was glad to see her handsome host again +after her brisk ride.</p> + +<p>"Good morning, Lucia," Gilbert said, hardly daring to look at her.</p> + +<p>Uncle Henry didn't mean to be overlooked. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Pell," he +said, meaningly.</p> + +<p>"Why, it <i>is</i> afternoon, isn't it?" she laughed.</p> + +<p>"It's darn near night," Uncle Henry rasped.</p><p><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51"></a></p> + +<p>"And I'm simply famished. Who wouldn't be, after such a glorious ride!" +Lucia said.</p> + +<p>"The cook's getting dinner now. Have a good canter, you say?" young Jones +inquired.</p> + +<p>"I missed you," Lucia answered, unashamed.</p> + +<p>Uncle Henry looked disgusted.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry, I had a lot of things to attend to. I'm glad you're back, for I +was beginning to be worried about you, Lucia. Bandits! They're around +again."</p> + +<p>Lucia didn't take him seriously. She hardly remembered that they were so +close to the border of Mexico. "Bandits?" she scoffed. "Oh, but they just +steal cows and things, don't they?"</p> + +<p>"Worse than that." Gilbert was serious, and gave her an appraising glance. +"Human life means little in Mexico. They even kill their prisoners in cold +blood."</p> + +<p>But still Lucia was not alarmed. "If that's true," she smiled, "I won't go +without you, if you wish it that way." She looked knowingly at him.</p> + +<p>"It isn't what I wish," Jones answered. "Nothing is what I wish."</p> + +<p>"Well," Uncle Henry put in, "you're going to get your wish all right." As +he spoke, Morgan Pell came through the alcove from his room, and <a name="Page_52" id="Page_52"></a>the old +invalid steered his chair so that he faced him. Pell looked anything but +engaging to-day. There was something about him that repelled—people could +never say what it was; but one sensed a latent cruelty in the man. His eyes +were shifty, and there were little lines about his mouth that spoke of his +days of dissipation. It was hard to associate him with the flower-like +Lucia. Here were a man and woman never meant for each other—that was +evident immediately; yet he had that old power that seemed to hypnotize +her. And she was not the only woman who had fallen beneath his spell. But +now, apparently, he did not see her.</p> + +<p>"Good afternoon, Mr. Pell," said old Smith to the newcomer.</p> + +<p>"How are you?" the latter answered, with no show of interest.</p> + +<p>"Have a good nap?" Gilbert inquired; but he really didn't care at all. +Pell, however, took his question seriously.</p> + +<p>"Couldn't sleep a wink," he said. "This cursed heat, you know. Glad I don't +have to live in this part of the world all the time."</p> + +<p>Uncle Henry leaned forward in his chair, and his eyes followed Pell +expectantly as the latter moved <a name="Page_53" id="Page_53"></a>across the low room, a small satchel in +his hands. "You ain't leaving, are you?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"No," was the laconic reply.</p> + +<p>"I was afraid you wasn't," ventured Uncle Henry; and there was an awkward +pause. Then, "It's pretty hot," the invalid remarked, delighted that no one +had called him to account for his obvious insult. He knew he had all the +advantage of a weak woman. His little throne was immune from attack.</p> + +<p>"It's always pretty hot till night—then it's pretty cold," Pell said.</p> + +<p>"What've you got that bag for?" Uncle Henry pursued. No one was ever more +frankly curious than Uncle Henry.</p> + +<p>"Company, my dear sir," Pell quickly retorted, not a little annoyed at the +question; and he glared at the old man. He had had two days of him, and was +getting used to him. Lucia, who had remained silent by the door, saw the +cloud on her husband's face, and gave a little, startled "Oh!" It was +hardly more than a whisper, but Pell was swift to catch it. He turned on +her, and took in her radiant figure.</p> + +<p>"So there you are!" he half sneered. "Been riding?"</p><p><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54"></a></p> + +<p>"Yes; just a little canter."</p> + +<p>"Alone?" Pell followed up.</p> + +<p>"Yes; why?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothing—nothing at all." There was a nasal tone in his voice +always—a twang that grated on sensitive ears. He turned on Gilbert. "How +about dinner?" he asked, almost as though the young fellow were a hotel +clerk.</p> + +<p>"It isn't ready yet," Jones answered. He disliked the other's tone. After +all, he was a guest in his, Gilbert's, house. He hoped their wretched +business would soon be settled, and Pell return to New York. He had had his +fill of him.</p> + +<p>Pell, seemingly oblivious of the bad impression he had made, started toward +the door. He had not put the bag down. "Well, call me when dinner <i>is</i> +ready, will you? I won't be far away."</p> + +<p>"Where are you going?" Lucia ventured.</p> + +<p>"Out," was Pell's curt reply; and he almost knocked Uncle Henry's chair +aside as he hurried into the yard.</p> + +<p>There was an awkward silence at his departure. Everyone felt a little +ashamed for him; but Gilbert was determined that Lucia should not read his +thoughts. So he said, nonchalantly, "Well, Lucia, <a name="Page_55" id="Page_55"></a>how did the pony +behave?" just as though Pell had never been in the room.</p> + +<p>"Splendidly!" the young wife replied, glad that the atmosphere was cleared +once more. "Oh, Gil, it's wonderful here—nothing but sky and the golden +desert! What a miracle place!"</p> + +<p>"You like it here?" Jones asked, knowing that she did. She had told him so +every hour of her visit.</p> + +<p>Lucia gave him a rapt look. "Like it, Gil? Um! I love it!" She clasped her +hands to her breast; and Jones thought she had never looked lovelier, more +desirable. How pink her cheeks were! Yet underneath her beauty there was a +wistful sadness. Anyone could see that she was not happy.</p> + +<p>"You really love it?" Uncle Henry asked, as though he could not believe he +had heard what she said.</p> + +<p>Lucia had forgotten his presence for a moment. Now she turned to him and +smiled. "Of course. Don't you?"</p> + +<p>"It makes me sick!" was the unexpected reply.</p> + +<p>Lucia was horrified; and she looked from Smith to Gilbert in utter +confusion. "Why, it's beautiful!" she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Beautiful!" Uncle Henry went on, repeating <a name="Page_56" id="Page_56"></a>the word in derision. "What's +beautiful about it? That's what I'd like to know."</p> + +<p>"The desert," Lucia answered.</p> + +<p>"A lot of gol darn sand!" the invalid whined.</p> + +<p>"The sky, then!" Lucia affirmed.</p> + +<p>But Uncle Henry merely repeated "The sky!" in whole-hearted disgust.</p> + +<p>Lucia refused to be downed. "But think of the glorious colors—blue and +gold and purple!"</p> + +<p>"And no grass nor nothin'," the invalid retorted. "Not even a place to go +fishin'. And you call it beau—Say, was you ever in Bangor?"</p> + +<p>Gilbert roared with laughter; but Lucia took the old boy seriously. +"Bangor?" she repeated, wonderingly.</p> + +<p>"Yes. Bangor, Maine. Now there's a place as is beau—Take the town hall, +for instance. And the Soldiers' Monument. And the cemetery. They got the +swellest cemetery in Bangor you ever—." Gilbert was almost doubling up +with laughter; but Uncle Henry went right on: "As for this gol darn place, +I wish it was in—An' it wouldn't have fur to go, neither!" he added, +emphatically, smiling at his own humor. "I wisht I was back in Maine! +There's where I was always so happy!"</p><p><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57"></a></p> + +<p>By this time Lucia was smiling too. She went over and shook her finger +gently in the invalid's face. "You're cross just because you're hungry!"</p> + +<p>"I ain't neither!" Smith replied, like a little boy.</p> + +<p>"Yes, you are!" Lucia kept on.</p> + +<p>"I ain't!"</p> + +<p>"Uh, uh!" she teased him, as though she were playing with a baby.</p> + +<p>Smith grew peevish. "Gol darn it, I tell you I ain't!" And he gave his +chair a rapid twirl.</p> + +<p>"Boo!" came from Lucia softly. She laughed, and ran up the tiny stone +stairs that led to her room.</p> + +<p>"Boo, yourself!" called out Uncle Henry, determined to have the last word, +as Lucia disappeared. Then he turned querulously on his nephew, as soon as +he was certain she was out of hearing. "Why did you ever invite 'em to stay +here in the first place?" he wanted to know. The sound of "Red's" harmonica +was heard outside.</p> + +<p>"Because there was no decent hotel anywhere near. I couldn't do less than +offer them what little hospitality I had, could I, when Sturgis suggested +it?"</p> + +<p>But his uncle didn't agree with him at all. "You <a name="Page_58" id="Page_58"></a>could have done a whole +lot less," he decided. "You could have invited 'em to keep on going. Comin' +here at a time like this, and not only eatin' us out of house and home, but +drinkin' up the last bottle of liquor in the world!" This seemed to him the +culminating tragedy. When his nephew said nothing at all, he asked, +petulantly, "Well, what are you going to do? That's what I want to know."</p> + +<p>"What can I do?"</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to say you're going to set here and get throwed out into the +street and not even try to do something?"</p> + +<p>Gilbert merely shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Well, of all the—" his Uncle Henry went on. "It's a darn good thing for +you that I'm an invalid! That's all I got to say!" He wheeled about, and +aimed at the door that led to the open air. At that instant "Red" Giddings, +the husky young foreman, appeared directly in his path, his shock of fiery +hair like an aureole about his head. "Git out o' my way!" Uncle Henry +yelled. "Gol darn the gol darn luck, anyhow!"</p> + +<p>And through years of practice he shot into the yard as straight as an +arrow.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59"></a></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<h4>WHEREIN "RED" REVEALS HIS HEART, AND MRS. QUINN GIVES HIM GOOD COFFEE AND +GOOD ADVICE</h4> + + +<p>"Red" Giddings had been on the ranch with Gilbert since the very beginning. +He came from the North with the young man, willing to stake all on this one +venture. Like young Jones, he was not afraid. He was an efficient, +well-set-up young fellow, with three consuming passions: Arizona, his +harmonica, and Angela Hardy. The first saw a lot of "Red"; the second +touched his lips frequently; but as for Angela—well, perhaps the poor boy +kissed his harmonica so often in order to forget her lips. But if his own +music charmed "Red," it failed to have that effect upon +others—particularly Uncle Henry, who went into a rage whenever he heard +the detested instrument. "Red's" music had no charms to soothe the savage +breast of Henry Smith.</p><p><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60"></a></p> + +<p>But another did like it. Angela once told "Red" in the moonlight—and her +father had never forgiven her for her foolishness—that his harmonica never +wearied her. That was enough for "Red." Once every day he managed to find +some excuse to get over to the Hardy ranch; and always his beloved +instrument went along with him in his pocket, and he would approach his +lady love's castle like the troubadours of old, his foot tapping on the +path while his harmonica, in the place of a lute, made soft sounds. +Instantly Angela would poke her pretty head from the window, and pretend +that she was a princess in distress, and he her knight who had come to +release her from her prison.</p> + +<p>Moreover, the Hardys had a wonderful cook—a woman they had brought down +from Phœnix. Instead of the firecracker stuff that Uncle Henry so +bitterly complained of, she, being an Irish woman, could concoct a stew +that would make one's hair curl; and her pastry was succulent and sweet, +and literally melted in the mouth. Her coffee—ah! who could make better +coffee? And as the meals at the Jones ranch were served sporadically, and +"Red" was as healthy as a peasant and had never known the time when he +couldn't tuck away some dainty from the kitchen <a name="Page_61" id="Page_61"></a>he ingratiated himself +with Mrs. Quinn, quite won her heart, too, with his music, and was even +known to desert his work for the boon of a bit of pie.</p> + +<p>When she was suffering from the heat of the stove, and was ready to throw +up her job and return to the bright lights of Phœnix, "Red" invariably +came around to the door with music on his lips, his shock of hair blown by +the soft wind, looking so boyish that she had to succumb to him, boil +another pot of coffee, and lay a place for him at the corner of the table.</p> + +<p>"Be off wid yez!" she always began by saying. But the insinuating harmonica +was his only reply; and she ended by begging him to come in and play for +her while she messed with the pots and pans, and maybe found some batter +for a plate of griddle cakes.</p> + +<p>On this particular morning, work being useless since things were going so +badly for Jones, "Red" slipped up the road and reached the kitchen door +just as Mrs. Quinn was washing up.</p> + +<p>"Oh, so there ye be, me boy!" was her motherly greeting. "Come in, an' +maybe—who knows?—I'll find a cup o' coffee fer ye, though I'm not +thinkin' ye deserve it."</p> + +<p>"Red" loved the odors from this fragrant <a name="Page_62" id="Page_62"></a>kitchen. The stove always +gleamed, and when Mrs. Quinn was in good humor she was like a great light +moving here and there, dispensing warmth also. She was a monstrous woman; +but like many large people, she got about easily and swiftly. Her capable +hands were forever fluttering in the flour-barrel or over the dough-board, +and her ruddy cheeks and honest gray eyes spoke of health and good nature. +She adored Angela; and she really liked "Red" tremendously, and hoped in +the end he would win the difficult and fickle girl. But, like Angela, she +had moment when she could have shaken him. For "Red" didn't fight hard +enough for what he wanted. He was naïve to the point of stupidity at times; +and women like aggressive men—even men who are capable of flogging them +into submission, deny it as they will. "Red" was gentle and mild, though +thoroughly manly. Both Angela and Mrs. Quinn would have liked to see him +live up to his fiery hair.</p> + +<p>He beamed now at the genial cook's greeting, and took out his harmonica, +running over the full scale as a suitable answer.</p> + +<p>"Here, sit ye down, 'Red,'" Mrs. Quinn ordered. "But first see that yer +feet is wiped off. I don't want to see no dirt along me clean floor."</p><p><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63"></a></p> + +<p>She was busy with a place for him near the window, happy, as most women +are, to serve a handsome young chap, and secretly wishing in her heart that +she had him for a son.</p> + +<p>The coffee was miraculously brought, and soon the griddle-cakes, gloriously +brown, and deftly turned by Mrs. Quinn, were in front of him.</p> + +<p>"Gee! you make a feller happy, Mrs. Quinn!" said the appreciative "Red," +sitting down, and getting busy, "Won't you come to Bisbee with Angela an' +me the next time we go to the movies?"</p> + +<p>She gave him a half-scornful look. "An' what would yez want with an old +woman like meself taggin' along with yez now?" Mrs. Quinn exclaimed, her +arms akimbo. "Ain't ye happy enough with yer Angela, an' no fat funeral +like me occupyin' too much room in the Ford? Go along, me lad, an' have a +good time with yer colleen! She'd like it better alone with ye, too—be +sure o' that!"</p> + +<p>"Of course I would!"</p> + +<p>They hadn't seen Angela come in. She stood in the doorway like a vision—a +morning-glory from which the freshness of the early hours never seemed to +depart.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" poor "Red" gasped, and leaped to his <a name="Page_64" id="Page_64"></a>feet. "Would you, Angela?" He +looked at her, drank her beauty in, as though she were the only creature on +this earth.</p> + +<p>"Certainly!" said Angela, coming over to him. "You're a boob, 'Red,' and if +you don't look out, there's a fellow over at Bisbee who—"</p> + +<p>"Oh!" the anguished "Red" managed to get out. "<i>Is</i> there, Angy?"</p> + +<p>There was—of course there was—and there wasn't. Angela knew just how far +to go. Her black eyes danced. "Red" sat down again, after she had shoved +him back to his late breakfast. Mrs. Quinn, amused, was busy with some more +cakes, though "Red" had scarcely had time to begin the first batch. But she +knew his capacity, and she felt he would need sustaining food after +Angela's last remark.</p> + +<p>"You don't always wave to me like you did the other day when I went by," +said "Red," his lips in Mrs. Quinn's golden coffee.</p> + +<p>"Why should I?" said Angela. "You don't always have such swell-looking +folks with you!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, so that's why you waved!" disappointment in his tone.</p> + +<p>"Maybe." She was teasing him, but he didn't know it. "Who were they?"</p><p><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65"></a></p> + +<p>"A Mr. and Mrs. Pell, from New York. They're lookin' over property round +here.... But I don't care, Angy. Even if I had to go to Bisbee four times a +day and get some good-lookin' folks to bring down the road, I'd do it if +you'd wave to me! Oh, why can't you always be nice to me?"</p> + +<p>"If I was always nice to you, you wouldn't know how lucky you are!" she +countered. "It's good for you to have your bad days—with me."</p> + +<p>"Well, maybe you're right. You're 'most always right; but gosh! a feller +does like a little encouragement once in a while. You can be so cruel, +Angy!"</p> + +<p>"Can I? If you think not waving to you is cruelty, you ought to see some of +my other forms of torture."</p> + +<p>"Ugh! I hope I never do!" He drank again from the cup.</p> + +<p>"Say," Angela said, watching him, "you seem to like that coffee a lot more +than you like me! That brunette in the cup is my rival!"</p> + +<p>He looked at her in blank amazement. He hadn't much sense of humor. He was +as literal-minded as a child. "You certainly are the funniest girl, Angy!" +he said, "How could coffee be a girl's rival?"</p><p><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66"></a></p> + +<p>"Easier than a fellow in Bisbee—maybe. Better look out, 'Red,' or I'll sue +Mrs. Quinn for alienation of affections!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, you wouldn't do that!" said the kindly, honest "Red."</p> + +<p>"What a stupid you are, to be sure!" said Angela, and laughed. "There—eat +these hot cakes—though how you can on this beastly warm morning is more +than I can see—and then play me some tunes. I'm dying to hear some music. +This afternoon Dad says he's going over to your ranch. I don't know what +for, do you? I do wish people didn't have to lose their property. Why are +mortgages, anyhow?"</p> + +<p>"Blamed if <i>I</i> know, Angy! Thanks, Mrs. Quinn."</p> + +<p>"Sure, an' you're welcome, me boy." Angela had gone out on the step. The +old Irishwoman saw her chance. "For the love o' Mike, 'Red,' woo her, an' +woo her hard! There <i>is</i> a feller in Bisbee. She's after lovin' ye, but +you're too slow—slower'n the molasses I just poured on yer griddle-cakes +fer ye!"</p> + +<p>"I'll try," said the accommodating "Red." "You're a good friend, Mrs. +Quinn. I won't forget you when I own this place!"</p><p><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67"></a></p> + +<p>"Be off, now! Ye've got some travelin' to do before ye're able to win +Angela. Then ye can think of buyin' a ranch."</p> + +<p>She literally pushed him from her domain; and he found himself by Angela's +side out of doors.</p> + +<p>The bright sunlight touched her hair, and they went over to a pergola she +had had built, covered with vines. A little fountain tinkled near it, and +the heat of the day would not bother them here.</p> + +<p>For three delirious hours, "Red" was alone with Angela. One moment she +pouted, the next she let him touch her hand.</p> + +<p>"You may be going away soon, 'Red.' Will you write to me if you do?"</p> + +<p>"Will I?" he cried, "Every day—a postal-card at least. I ain't much at +letters.... But I'm not so sure I'm goin', Angy. Something tells me that +even if your father does hold the mortgage, it won't be foreclosed. Gil +Jones has worked too hard...."</p> + +<p>"Dad's awfully hard about holding to a bargain," Angela reminded him. "He's +all business. He wasn't that way until after Ma died. I do wish he'd be +more human. I've talked to him and talked to him, until I'm tired; but he's +getting harder all the time. This is the last day, isn't it?"</p><p><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68"></a></p> + +<p>"Yes. Jones is awful blue. That's one reason I ought to get back. Maybe he +needs some cheerin' up. God knows his Uncle Henry don't give him much."</p> + +<p>The sun was now high in the heavens. It was almost noon. "Red" said he +would walk. No trouble at all; and what did he care how hot it was? He was +used to it. But how he did hate to leave his Angela!</p> + +<p>He played his harmonica most of the way home, and he was still running his +lips along the instrument when he entered the adobe door, just as Uncle +Henry wheeled out of it.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69"></a></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<h4>WHEREIN GILBERT JONES IS WORRIED, AND LUCIA PELL IS ASKED TO DO AN +IMPOSSIBLE THING</h4> + + +<p>Poor "Red" couldn't have encountered the invalid at a less propitious +moment; for he was almost knocked down by that crabbed gentleman.</p> + +<p>"Certainly wheels a mean chair," he said good-naturedly to Gilbert, as he +watched Uncle Henry steer himself out to the gate. "Got his cut-out open, +too! Pesky to-day, ain't he? That's one reason I came back." He spread his +legs apart, and fanned himself with his hat. He ran his fingers through his +thick, violent crop of hair. "A mean Arizona day!" he said. "The walk made +me hot."</p> + +<p>"I should think it would," Jones replied.</p> + +<p>"No grub yet?" "Red" ventured. He was hungry even yet. Twenty-two is always +hungry.</p> + +<p>"No," said his employer.</p><p><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70"></a></p> + +<p>"Should have been ready two hours ago. What's the matter? Wish we had Mrs. +Quinn over here."</p> + +<p>"I don't know what's the matter. I haven't thought much about eating." He +was engrossed again in his papers.</p> + +<p>But "Red" didn't intend to let the matter drop. "You're too easy on that +cook," he said. "Now, if you had a Mrs. Quinn—" He had pulled out a worn +tobacco-bag, which was discouragingly flat. He had smoked a lot this +morning.</p> + +<p>Gilbert was swift to notice the empty pouch, and offered him his.</p> + +<p>"Thanks; much obliged," "Red" said, filling his pipe. "But darn that cook, +anyhow! If he wasn't leavin', I'd fire him! As if you didn't have enough +troubles, without havin' to bother about late meals—an' guests in the +house."</p> + +<p>But a puff or two on his pipe soothed him, "Red's" bark was always worse +than his bite. He was the best-natured chap in the world, and he idolized +Gilbert Jones. There was a big packing-case in the middle of the room, and +he sat on it, tailor-fashion, as happy as a husky, normal young man can be.</p> + +<p>He looked longingly at the unset table; but his <a name="Page_71" id="Page_71"></a>thoughts were more of +Angela Hardy than of the good meal to come.</p> + +<p>"'Red,'" said Gilbert after a brief silence, "I was hoping to be able to +pay you off to-day."</p> + +<p>"Pay me off?" That would have been heaven! He could have taken Angela to +the movies at Bisbee.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Oh, forget it! You don't owe me nothin'!"</p> + +<p>"Only a mere trifle of six months' wages," Gilbert laughed.</p> + +<p>"Red" had put his head in one hand, and leaned back on the case, at peace +with the world. His left foot beat a little tattoo on the side of the box. +Now he sat up straight and looked sharply at Jones.</p> + +<p>"What's the use of talking about this?" he wanted to know. "You ain't got +it, have you?"</p> + +<p>Gilbert paused the fraction of a second. "No," he had to admit, "But that +doesn't alter the fact that I owe you money." He went over and stood close +to his foreman.</p> + +<p>"You're wrong," the younger man said. "It was my own proposition that I +come here with you and work, an' you know it. Now what you got to say?"</p> + +<p>Gilbert put his arm around "Red's" big shoulder, <a name="Page_72" id="Page_72"></a>and playfully pushed him +off the box. "You're just a big kid, aren't you, 'Red'?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know what I am. But I do know I was only too glad to take the +gamble with you. An' I'll take another one right now if you've got one to +suggest."</p> + +<p>Gilbert pushed the case over on its side. It was empty. There were some +Navajo blankets on a little stand by the window. These he now fetched over +to the case, first placing them carefully on the floor, spread out in all +their rainbow beauty. Their bright patterns glorified the room, as if a +lamp had been lighted. He said nothing. "Red" wondered what he was doing +with these splendid blankets. He had never seen anything like them on the +ranch, though there were others on the walls.</p> + +<p>"I'd like to remark," "Red" went on, "that if we ever gets into the cow +business again, we ought to get us a nice ranch in Washington, D.C. It +don't pay American citizens to go too fur away from home, these days."</p> + +<p>Gilbert laughed. Then, "Oh!" he ejaculated, as though remembering +something.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?" "Red" asked.</p> + +<p>"Haven't you heard? Lopez has broken off the reservation again."</p><p><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73"></a></p> + +<p>"Lopez!" exclaimed "Red," forgetting his pipe, his dinner, and even Angela +for the moment. "The devil he has!"</p> + +<p>"Uh—uh! Raided the Diamond Dot last night."</p> + +<p>"He won't bother us," "Red" smiled, settling back again. "Nothin' to steal +here except the mortgage." He paused, as though in deep thought; but +Gilbert, had he known it, was thinking even harder. Lopez, the Mexican +bandit, was a dim uncertainty; the mortgage was a stern reality.</p> + +<p>"You'll want to be drivin' over to the station later?" "Red" went on, +coming to the table, and taking off his spurs.</p> + +<p>"Yes," Gilbert answered. He had folded all the blankets neatly, rose, and +went over to the window-box to get some strong cord.</p> + +<p>"In the gallopin' wash-boiler?" "Red" smiled, "<i>That</i> still belongs to +us—I mean, you." He clinked his spurs on the table.</p> + +<p>"Us is right, 'Red.' You said you'd been a partner. You have. Some day I'm +going to tell you how grateful I am." In his preoccupation, he forgot to +tie up the blankets; and, one hand on "Red's" shoulder, he let the cord +fall on the table.</p> + +<p>"Aw, that's all right," "Red" said. He didn't <a name="Page_74" id="Page_74"></a>like to be thanked, and he +avoided even the shadow of sentimentality with Jones. After all, they were +two young fellows, playing a big game together, taking big chances; and +what was the use of talking about it? "What are you going to tell the +Pells?" he suddenly asked, glad to get off the immediate subject.</p> + +<p>"Pells?"</p> + +<p>"Say, I'm goin' to poke that bird in the beak some day!" "Red" declared.</p> + +<p>Jones smiled. "What's he done to you?"</p> + +<p>"Nothin'. He'd better not. It's the way he treats his wife. She's so darn +game, too. I wouldn't treat a horse the way he treats her. Well, what are +you goin' to tell them?"</p> + +<p>Gilbert stood perfectly still. He was in deep thought. Finally he spoke.</p> + +<p>"I'm going to tell them I'm going away—important business."</p> + +<p>"East?" "Red" asked. He had seated himself at the table, and picked up +Gilbert's pen, and began making curious little scrawls with it on a piece +of paper, as a business man sometimes does when he is telephoning.</p> + +<p>"No. West," answered Jones. "They're going East."</p><p><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75"></a></p> + +<p>"What are you going to do?" "Red" was amused rather than alarmed.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'll get a job somewhere. Punch cows—or maybe join the rangers. +There's always something a fellow can do."</p> + +<p>"An' what about your uncle?"</p> + +<p>"I'll put him up in Bisbee till I get a chance to ship him back to Bangor. +He likes Bangor, you know!" Gilbert smiled.</p> + +<p>"He takes it sort o' hard, don't he?"</p> + +<p>"Well, you can't blame the old boy. You see, I got him to sell out +everything—everything, and invest in this ranch. Maybe it wasn't the right +thing to do; but I thought I was certain to succeed. I meant all for the +best, 'Red.' You know that." Who could doubt those gray eyes of Gilbert +Jones, that open, frank, boyish face?</p> + +<p>"Of course I do." He got up, and walked over to the window. "Your uncle +don't like jokin' much, does he? I asked him the other day why he didn't +get a chauffeur. Gosh! he got mad!" "Red" laughed at the recollection.</p> + +<p>"Uncle Henry's in no joking mood just now. You can't blame him much."</p> + +<p>"Red" turned and looked at his employer. He didn't know whether he should +ask the next <a name="Page_76" id="Page_76"></a>question or not; but he took his courage in his hands.</p> + +<p>"He—he wants you to—to marry Angela Hardy, don't he?"</p> + +<p>Gilbert looked surprised. "Hardy's daughter?"</p> + +<p>"Red" nodded.</p> + +<p>"How did you know?" Jones asked.</p> + +<p>"Because he ain't talked of nothin' else for six months. You wasn't +thinkin' of doin' it, was you?" He hung on Gilbert's answer.</p> + +<p>"Hardly!" with a smile.</p> + +<p>The relief of "Red"!</p> + +<p>"I know, I know!" he cried. "But once she gets her mind set on a thing—"</p> + +<p>"You mean you think she wants to marry me? Is that it?" Gilbert asked, not +taking the matter very seriously. He was busy at the box again, pulling the +top farther back.</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't know as I'd say that," "Red" offered; "but I think she +thinks she wants to." He was sitting on the edge of the table, swinging one +leg. "She's prone to fancies, Angela is. Even I gotter admit that!"</p> + +<p>"<i>Even</i> you?" Gilbert inquired, puzzled.</p> + +<p>The question made "Red" a bit nervous. He jumped to the floor, and then sat +down in the chair <a name="Page_77" id="Page_77"></a>beside the table, pretending to be very much at ease. +"Like that traveling man from Saint Looey," he explained. "She thought she +cared for him. I tried to tell her different. I had to run him out of town +with a gun to prove it. But even then she didn't believe it until that New +York surveyor come along."</p> + +<p>Gilbert looked up, "And she thought she loved him?"</p> + +<p>"Until she met up with that hoss doctor from Albuquerque! An' now there's a +new feller in Bisbee!"</p> + +<p>Jones was a trifle mystified, "Say, how do you happen to know so much about +her affairs, 'Red'?"</p> + +<p>How involved he had become! He blushed like a schoolboy; got up, took his +pipe out of his mouth and emptied it in the fireplace. "Me?" he said. "Oh, +I've knowed her a long time."</p> + +<p>Jones was beginning to see the truth, to read the heart of this young +rascal. So it was over at the Hardy's that he spent so many hours!</p> + +<p>"Oh, so that's it, is it? What's the matter? Does her father object?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no!" "Red" was quick to deny. "I stand all right with him. He's knowed +me a long time. It's her."</p><p><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78"></a></p> + +<p>Gilbert laughed outright; and "Red," humanly embarrassed now that his +secret was out, paced the room, his hands behind his back, digging his heel +every now and then in the floor. "Aw—" he began.</p> + +<p>"Listen, 'Red,'" said Jones, in sympathy with the lad, and hoping to cover +up his confusion. "If Hardy comes, keep him out till I'm alone. I don't +want any war talk before the Pells."</p> + +<p>"I get yer," said "Red," visibly relieved.</p> + +<p>"Any stronger cord on the place anywhere?" Gilbert looked around the room. +Maybe one of the many Indian jugs contained a string. "Red" and he had a +habit of putting any old thing in them.</p> + +<p>"There's some down in the hay barn. Want me to get it for you?" "Red" +offered.</p> + +<p>"No; I'll get it, thanks. You see if you can't prod up the cook a little. +I'm hungry now."</p> + +<p>And "Red" ran into the kitchen. No sooner had he left the room, than there +was a rumble, and Uncle Henry burst in on Gilbert, a smile of triumph on +his face.</p> + +<p>"I got it!" he all but yelled.</p> + +<p>"Got what?" his nephew asked.</p> + +<p>"An idea!... Mebbe he'd lend you some."</p><p><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79"></a></p> + +<p>"Some what? And who?"</p> + +<p>"Money, of course! That feller Pell, I mean. He's rich, an' if he knowed +that you and his wife was old friends—I betcher he'd lend you some." He +paused, breathless, for he had run his sentences into one. Gilbert glared +at him, as if he thought he had gone stark mad. But Uncle Henry was not +afraid. "You won't ask him?" he inquired.</p> + +<p>"Certainly not. What are you raving about, anyhow? Cut out this sort of +talk, Uncle. You're getting on my nerves."</p> + +<p>The old man simply switched his chair about. He had heard Gilbert in an +angry mood before, and he knew that nothing would follow his little burst +of wrath. "Oh, you make me tired, you young people," he raged. "I'd ask him +if it was me, you can bet I would!"</p> + +<p>"<i>You</i> would," was all that Gilbert replied. Sarcasm was in his voice.</p> + +<p>"First you won't marry Hardy's daughter and now you won't ask him for +money," Uncle Henry pursued the subject.</p> + +<p>Gilbert was genuinely angry now. "Oh, keep quiet! I'm sick of your plans."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but if you ain't goin' to do nothing, I am!"</p><p><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80"></a></p> + +<p>His nephew wouldn't trust himself to hear another word. He turned on his +heel and left the old man.</p> + +<p>Uncle Henry was shaking with excitement. He lifted his hand, smote the arm +of his chair, and cried out after the vanishing figure of his nephew, "You +make me sick, you gol darn fool!" He was almost in tears. "Gol darn the gol +darn luck, anyhow!"</p> + +<p>At that moment, Lucia Pell came down the little stairway. She had discarded +her riding-habit, and now looked equally lovely in a simple frock of blue.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?" she inquired, seeing at once that something was +troubling Uncle Henry.</p> + +<p>"What <i>ain't</i> the matter?" the old fellow screamed, but glad of someone to +whom he could unburden his overflowing heart. "Gol darn it! By gollies! I +got it again!" he cried, seized with another inspiration. He eyed the +radiant Lucia, as a miser might appraise a new gold coin. "Mis' Pell," he +said, twirling his chair so that he caught a better glimpse of her.</p> + +<p>"Yes?" she said, half-way down.</p> + +<p>"You and Gil's old friends, ain't you?" The question was as direct as +anything could be.</p><p><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81"></a></p> + +<p>"Yes," was the equally direct answer.</p> + +<p>"Want to do him a good turn?" asked the scheming old man.</p> + +<p>"Of course. What do you mean?" She was at his side now.</p> + +<p>"He's got a chance to make a swell marriage," announced Uncle Henry.</p> + +<p>"What?" There was a curious catch in Lucia's voice.</p> + +<p>"A rich marriage," Uncle Henry went on, almost smacking his lips over the +words.</p> + +<p>Lucia went over to the window, so that she would not face the invalid.</p> + +<p>"Not as rich as yourn, of course," Uncle Henry pursued; "but rich for +him—and he won't do it." He waited for her to say something; but she did +not speak. There was a pause. Lucia looked out at the baking valley, and +off to the far mountains, and the ticking of the clock could be heard like +steady rain in a cistern. Then she went over to the table near the alcove, +where a few books were scattered about. She opened one, and pretended to +read. All the time Uncle Henry's eyes never left her. And she knew he was +searching her thoughts.</p> + +<p>"He won't?" she finally said.</p><p><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82"></a></p> + +<p>"No—the gol darn fool!" the old fellow screamed again.</p> + +<p>"Does he—does he love her?" Lucia brought herself to ask.</p> + +<p>Quick as a flash Uncle Henry came back: "Sure he does! It's the only thing +for him to do. He ain't got no right to be livin' alone. All he don't get +skinned out of he gives away. Never gets nothin' to eat. If ever a feller +needed a nice, sensible wife to take care of him, it's Gil. I know. Ain't I +his uncle?"</p> + +<p>"You think she would—make him—a good wife?" Lucia Pell got the words out +somehow, never lifting her eyes from the printed page.</p> + +<p>"The finest in the world!" Uncle Henry affirmed. "Now, looky here, Mis' +Pell: He won't listen to me—funny the way folks are about their relatives. +But I was thinkin' that mebbe if you was to ask him—"</p> + +<p>Lucia was startled. "I?" she said.</p> + +<p>The wheel chair bobbed about. "Yes. You and him bein' old friends that way, +mebbe he'd pay some attention to you. Make him see what a gol darn fool he +is and give him h——. Give it to him good! It's a wonderful chance. He'll +never get another. Darned if I see how he ever got this.<a name="Page_83" id="Page_83"></a> But he has. And +what we gotter do is to make him take it." He paused; but she said nothing. +He waited a moment. Then,—"What do you say? Will you?"</p> + +<p>"You—think he should?"</p> + +<p>"I know darn well he should!"</p> + +<p>Lucia closed the book and put it down. She looked straight at Uncle Henry. +"I should think he would see it for himself."</p> + +<p>Uncle Henry showed his disgust—not for her, but for his nephew. "Aw, he's +always been like this. I remember five or six years ago, he told me then he +wouldn't ask no woman to marry him until he got a lot of money. False +pride, I call it. What'd the world come to if everybody felt like that?"</p> + +<p>"You think it's only pride that's keeping him from it?" Her voice was very +low.</p> + +<p>"Well, what else could it be, I'd like to know."</p> + +<p>"Maybe it's because he hasn't a lot of money. He may be honest in that."</p> + +<p>"Well, mebbe you're right. That may be it. What do you say?"</p> + +<p>"All right," Lucia Pell said. But she turned away.</p> + +<p>Uncle Henry was delighted. "That's the idee!<a name="Page_84" id="Page_84"></a> Hooray!" Had he been able to +stand, he would have risen and given three rousing cheers. He hadn't been +so happy in years. "We'll put it over yet, by heck!"</p> + +<p>He hadn't seen his nephew come into the room, with a ball of stout twine in +his hands.</p> + +<p>"Put what over?" Gilbert asked.</p> + +<p>Uncle Henry was taken aback, but he quickly covered his confusion.</p> + +<p>"Oh, somethin'. It's a secret." He turned and addressed Lucia Pell. "Don't +forget," he admonished, and swiftly wheeled himself out into the yard +again.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85"></a></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<h4>WHEREIN AN OLD LOVE AWAKENS, PELL REVEALS HIS TRUE COLORS, A MORTGAGE IS +ABOUT TO BE FORECLOSED, THE CONTENTS OF A SATCHEL ARE MADE KNOWN, UNCLE +HENRY SPRINGS A SENSATION, AND PELL TAKES AN OPTION</h4> + + +<p>Lucia's eyes were following Uncle Henry's heaving chair; for the yard was +full of little stones, and the invalid bumped along, not always able to +keep on a smooth track. She smiled as she watched him.</p> + +<p>"What was he talking about?" Gilbert asked, kneeling on the floor, and +folding one rug that had slipped away.</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothing," Lucia Pell answered. "You know how old people babble on +sometimes about nothing." She turned and looked at him. Still the same +handsome Gilbert! "What are you doing?"</p><p><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86"></a></p> + +<p>"Nothing. You know how young people go on doing nothing. I'm just rolling +up these rugs and blankets. I'm going to send them away."</p> + +<p>Lucia saw the beautiful pattern of one Navajo as Gilbert held it, unfolded, +from the floor. She came over to him.</p> + +<p>"You're sending them away—when they're so exquisite?" she asked. "This +flaming one—" she picked it up and draped it around her. "Why, it's like +the sunset. And you do have such beautiful sunsets here, Gil."</p> + +<p>"I got them up especially, in honor of your visit," Jones said; and then he +remembered how many times a remark like that must have been made, by many a +lover, as if it were quite original, as if no one had ever thought of it +before!</p> + +<p>But Lucia took him seriously, dropped the wonderful blanket and went over +to the door again. "I never grow tired of this view, Gil. It's almost as if +God were an artist and had spilt the colors from His palette. And yet not +that, quite. The colors are more like jewels. The morning's opals; the +noon's pearls; the evening wears rubies in her hair. There's a sort of +beauty that makes one ache. It seems to me sometimes as if I couldn't stand +it—just the way the Grand Canyon got hold <a name="Page_87" id="Page_87"></a>of me. Doesn't it affect you +that way—you who have so much poetry in you?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed it does, Lucia. I've often watched that sky until I've forgotten +all about my cattle—both of them!" He laughed, and reached for the twine. +He was always turning their serious moments into a jest. As long as she had +been here with her husband, he kept at a distance.</p> + +<p>Lucia saw his hand go out. "The string?" she said. "I'll get it." She left +the door, and handed him the twine which he had put on the table.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said Gilbert. "Do you mind putting your finger—there? Never +mind. I think I can do it, after all."</p> + +<p>"Oh, do let me help you," she said. "I'd like to." And she leaned down, +knelt beside him, and held her white forefinger on the cord.</p> + +<p>How it happened, neither of them ever knew. But a sudden electric thrill +ran through their veins. Something hammered in their brains. For a brief +instant, their hearts beat as though the whole world must hear. He had +touched her finger, and, before he was aware of it, he had dared to lean +over and kiss it. Not a word was said—there was no time for words. They +did not need speech to understand. It was the old, but ever new experience +<a name="Page_88" id="Page_88"></a>of the ages: two who loved each other had found out in the twinkling of an +eye—and she belonged to another. There was a moment of terrible silence. +Then,</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry," was all Gilbert could get out.</p> + +<p>"But you touched my hand many a time, in the old days," Lucia said.</p> + +<p>"That was different. You're married now. Oh, there is a vast change since +then. I could not—Forgive me, my dear." He turned away his face. He did +not want her to read what was in his eyes. "Shall I send them, or would you +rather take them with you?" he asked, hiding behind that commonplace +question the emotion he felt. His voice held a note of pain.</p> + +<p>Lucia rose. "You mean you want to give these wonderful rugs and blankets to +me?—these priceless things."</p> + +<p>"More than that. I want you to have them—to remind you—sometimes of—" He +broke off, like a frightened lad.</p> + +<p>"As though I should ever need reminding! How dull you men can be! But I +don't want to take them from you, Gil."</p> + +<p>"I'm giving up this ranch," he told her, "I shan't want them any more. +Please take them, <a name="Page_89" id="Page_89"></a>for my sake." He made a gesture, as though they were the +last of his poor possessions.</p> + +<p>"I thought you loved it here?" she said.</p> + +<p>"I do—in a way."</p> + +<p>"Then why are you giving it up?" was the natural question.</p> + +<p>He hesitated, not knowing what to answer. "I thought I'd try something else +for awhile. I hate to have to tell you this, Lucia; but the fact is, +I—I've got to leave to-day. I was going to tell you before, only I was +hoping that something might turn up at the last minute, and—well, it +hasn't. That's all."</p> + +<p>There was nothing she could say; and they stood looking at each other in +silence—a silence that was far more eloquent than speech. Gilbert went +over and sat on the case, and Lucia finally said:</p> + +<p>"Then we won't see each other again?"</p> + +<p>He nodded, sorrowfully. Lucia Pell went over to the door and looked out +once more. He watched her, covertly—her every gesture held a new meaning +for him now. The silence continued. At length she turned back and faced +him. He could not stand it, and bent quickly over the rugs and blankets.</p><p><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90"></a></p> + +<p>"I don't know what to say, Gil." She moved closer to him. "I've had a +wonderful time—you know that. I want to thank you for it. You've been +awfully kind to us."</p> + +<p>"Having you here is all the thanks I want," he answered. He had everything +snugly packed now.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad we happened to meet again. Though it does seem strange, doesn't +it, that we should run across each other after all these years!"</p> + +<p>He stood up straight. "All these years! You talk as if you were a hundred!" +And he tried to smile.</p> + +<p>"I am—nearly," she laughed. "I'm twenty-four, you know."</p> + +<p>"Really? It doesn't seem possible!"</p> + +<p>"I was eighteen when you went away. And that's nearly six years ago. Time +flies, doesn't it?" She smiled at her bromidic remark, and sat down; but he +did not reply, "Gil," she said at last. He looked up. "Why didn't you come +to see me before I went away?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. I suppose—"</p> + +<p>"You went away from Maine without my knowing—without even coming to say +good-bye. Was that fair, was that the thing for a man like you to do?"</p><p><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91"></a></p> + +<p>How he wished she had not brought up these burning memories!</p> + +<p>"I was broke, and I—" he managed to explain.</p> + +<p>Lucia knew what he must be feeling now. She got up and went over to his +side; she did not dare place her hand in his. Never must there be again +that electric current between them. "But you're all right now, aren't you, +Gil?"</p> + +<p>He seemed abstracted, suddenly lost in another world. "Huh?" he uttered. +Then, as if coming to himself, "Oh, my, yes! I'm doing splendidly now, +Lucia!"</p> + +<p>"I'm so glad, Gil. But you haven't answered my question yet."</p> + +<p>"About my not coming to say good-bye?"</p> + +<p>She nodded.</p> + +<p>"It was pride, I suppose," he went on.</p> + +<p>"Very foolish pride. And life is so short. You hurt me a great deal."</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry. What more can one say? If I—"</p> + +<p>"I thought I had done something to offend you," she said, standing very +still, and looking far beyond him now, as though viewing their whole +unhappy past. "And it's worried me even until this very day. I didn't do +anything to offend you, did I, Gil?"</p><p><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92"></a></p> + +<p>"You? You, Lucia?" he cried. "You couldn't do anything to offend me. Surely +you must know that." He said it as a man says such things to the one woman +he loves.</p> + +<p>"It was only pride?" she was anxious to know again. "Because you were poor! +Gil! Did you think so little of me as that?" There was a half-sob in her +voice.</p> + +<p>"I hoped to pick a fortune off a tree somewhere, and come back and surprise +you with it. I was going to buy an automobile—one of those low ones as +long as a Pullman car—and fill it with roses, and come dashing up to your +front door and take you for a ride through the hills. It was to be autumn. +I had even that fixed," he laughed. "Oh, I had everything thought out! And +you were going to be so proud of me!... But I couldn't find a fortune-tree +anywhere...." He looked away, embarrassed. He hadn't meant to tell her +this.</p> + +<p>"Gil!" she cried.</p> + +<p>"I guess they don't grow any more. At least, not in this part of the +country." He rose, a bit wearily, and walked over to the mantel-piece.</p> + +<p>"What did you do, Gil?" she asked, her eyes following him.</p> + +<p>"Well, I was a time-keeper on a railroad and <a name="Page_93" id="Page_93"></a>weigh-boss in a coal mine. +After that I punched cows until I got uncle to come here. Then the war +started, and—that's all."</p> + +<p>Then she asked what a woman always asks.</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you ever write to me, Gil?"</p> + +<p>"I was waiting for some good news to tell you. I felt you would consider me +a failure—a rank failure. I couldn't have stood that. Women don't know how +proud men are about that."</p> + +<p>"Maybe we don't—and maybe we do, Gil." She went closer to him. "Why don't +you marry?" she dared to inquire.</p> + +<p>He was startled. "Marry?" he repeated.</p> + +<p>"Yes; you need someone to take care of you—someone to look after your +daily needs—every man does."</p> + +<p>"I guess there's no doubt about that. But it ought to be a guardian in my +case; or maybe a keeper." She could see that he was stalling for time, and +trying to laugh off a topic that was serious indeed to him.</p> + +<p>"We're such old friends, Gil," she said, looking at his handsome face. "I +don't like to go—to think of you always, like this—alone."</p> + +<p>"I still have uncle," he reminded her.</p><p><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94"></a></p> + +<p>"Oh, don't joke, Gil! You need a woman—a wife—someone to mother you."</p> + +<p>"All those?"</p> + +<p>Why couldn't he be serious for a moment? She asked him that.</p> + +<p>"I don't dare to, Lucia." His voice was low.</p> + +<p>She was a bit puzzled. "Why?"</p> + +<p>"Because the minute you begin to take life seriously, it takes <i>you</i> that +way, and then—"</p> + +<p>"But don't you see what it would mean to you, dear Gil? To have someone +always here; to kiss you when you go; to greet you when you come back; to +laugh with you when you are glad; and comfort you when things go wrong. To +give you the sympathy, the understanding that a man finds only in a woman's +heart. Don't you see, Gil?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, of course I see," he said, his head bowed a little.</p> + +<p>"Then why don't you, Gil? She'd make you very happy—a woman like that. I +want you to understand."</p> + +<p>"Don't you suppose I do? Don't you suppose I've always understood, ever +since—"</p> + +<p>"Ever since when, Gil? Then you have known such a woman?"</p> + +<p>He moved his head.</p><p><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95"></a></p> + +<p>"You have!... And you cared for her?"</p> + +<p>He nodded again.</p> + +<p>"You loved her?" she hurried on.</p> + +<p>His voice was hoarse. "Yes." The monosyllable got out somehow.</p> + +<p>"You still love her. I know it, I can see it. Who is she, Gil? I want to +know."</p> + +<p>"Don't you know?" he asked, and looked her straight in the eyes.</p> + +<p>Before she could answer, there were footsteps outside, and Pell could be +heard whistling. He rushed in now, the bag still clutched in his hand. At +once he sensed something strange in their attitude, and he eyed both of +them shrewdly, covertly, briefly. Not a word was uttered. He threw the bag +on the table, as though he had noticed nothing, and in the most +matter-of-fact tone said,</p> + +<p>"Say, how about dinner?"</p> + +<p>"It isn't ready yet," Gilbert informed him. Lucia took advantage of her +husband's question to move over toward the door.</p> + +<p>"Why, good God, man, it's nearly three o'clock! We're not on a hunger +strike, are we?" And he laughed at his own dull witticism.</p> + +<p>"I'll see about it now," Jones promised.</p><p><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96"></a></p> + +<p>"Haven't got a drink, have you, while we're waiting? Not that I need an +appetizer! And it's damned hot, I know, to guzzle whiskey."</p> + +<p>"There's nothing good in the place. But I think the cook has some tequila."</p> + +<p>"Tequila? What's that, Jones?"</p> + +<p>"It's a Mexican drink."</p> + +<p>"Has it got a kick in it?" the other wanted to know.</p> + +<p>"I never heard anybody complain," Gilbert smiled. "After two or three of +'em, I never saw anybody able to complain!"</p> + +<p>He started toward the kitchen.</p> + +<p>"What does it taste like?" said Pell, detaining him.</p> + +<p>"Oh, sort of like gasoline with bichloride of mercury in it," Jones +answered his eager questioner.</p> + +<p>"No wood alcohol?" suspiciously. Pell was always looking out for himself.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's safe enough, I assure you. Would you like to try some of it?" +Gilbert suggested.</p> + +<p>Pell thought a moment—but only a moment. "I'll try anything once, and +anything to drink more than once—if I'm alive the second time."</p> + +<p>His host smiled. "I'll get you some if there's any left," and went to the +kitchen to see. He <a name="Page_97" id="Page_97"></a>couldn't help wondering why a man like Morgan Pell, +with so many responsibilities, should wish to drink tequila.</p> + +<p>Left alone, there was that strange silence between Lucia and her husband +which so often occurred nowadays. A barrier was between them, none the less +real because it was invisible. She knew his moods so well, and she dreaded +the things he might say, all his inhibitions gone, if he drank any of this +deadly Mexican stuff. She would have halted Gilbert had she dared; but she +knew that any such action on her part would have aroused Pell the more, +inflamed him to anger; and, like most women of fine breeding, she dreaded a +scene more than anything in the world. All that she said now was merely,</p> + +<p>"I wish you wouldn't do that."</p> + +<p>"Do what?" Pell asked, jerking out the two words in a high staccato. He +hated to be questioned, particularly by his wife. His hands reached for the +satchel he had brought in.</p> + +<p>"Order a man around in his own house."</p> + +<p>"And why not, I'd like to know?" Pell inquired. "Who's he, anyhow, and what +difference does it make?"</p><p><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98"></a></p> + +<p>Lucia remained perfectly calm. "Well, if you can't see, of course—"</p> + +<p>"There's no use your trying to tell me. Is that what you were going to +say?" His face showed his rage.</p> + +<p>She did not answer. That infuriated him all the more.</p> + +<p>"I see what you mean! But I don't agree," Pell pursued. "This Jones person +is nothing in my life. And why I should be deprived of my liquor and forced +to eat burnt beans three times a day, I can't see." He emitted a sound that +might have been designated a laugh.</p> + +<p>"But—while we—" Lucia started to argue, and then thought better of it.</p> + +<p>"Why doesn't he set his liquor out and see that the meals are right, +himself? Then there wouldn't be any need of my saying anything." His tone +was brutally frank. He really disliked Jones, and would be glad when they +could get back to New York. There was nothing here worth his consideration. +Sturgis had been stupid to think so.</p> + +<p>"But when we are enjoying his hospitality—"</p> + +<p>"Enjoying? Ha! Suffering, I guess you mean!" And Pell's head went back and +he gave out a guffaw.</p><p><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99"></a></p> + +<p>Lucia waited for his false mirth to vanish. Then, "But you seemed very +anxious to come here."</p> + +<p>"Yes; because I thought he lived in a house, not a—"</p> + +<p>The sentence was not completed; for Gilbert came back with a bottle of the +deadly tequila in his hand.</p> + +<p>"I'm terribly sorry," he apologized, "to have to tell you that dinner will +be late."</p> + +<p>"You mean later, don't you?" Pell edited the remark.</p> + +<p>Gilbert handed him the bottle. "Maybe this will atone for the postponed +banquet," he smiled. He got the water-bottle hanging on the peg by the +fireplace, and brought that to Pell also. He tried to be as gracious as he +could to anyone under his roof.</p> + +<p>Pell took a swig out of the bottle—a long one. "Good God!" he exclaimed, +his face almost purple, his brow puckered like a dwarf's.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?" Gilbert said. And he handed him the water-bottle.</p> + +<p>"It's poison!" Pell cried. And as if he really believed it, and as though +water were an antidote, he grabbed the water-bottle and drank from it +swiftly and loudly. It was horrible the way he <a name="Page_100" id="Page_100"></a>guzzled the liquid down. An +animal would have done better.</p> + +<p>"The Mexicans like their liquor strong," young Jones explained. "That's +what's the matter with the cook."</p> + +<p>Lucia was puzzled. "What do you mean?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Simply that he's been imbibing again. That's why dinner is so late. But +we're getting used to it. There is nothing to do but stand it."</p> + +<p>"Drunk?" Pell asked.</p> + +<p>"Quite," answered Gilbert.</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't know as you can blame him," Pell excused. "I'd be drunk too +if I had to live here. What are you going to do about it?" He hung the +water-bottle in its place on the peg.</p> + +<p>"Red's trying to sober him up," Gilbert said.</p> + +<p>They had had enough of the cook, Pell decided within himself. Dinner was +inevitably late, and that was all there was about it. So he changed the +subject abruptly.</p> + +<p>"This ranch belongs to you, doesn't it?" he put the question direct to +Jones.</p> + +<p>"What's that?"</p> + +<p>"I asked you," went on Pell, a little disconcerted <a name="Page_101" id="Page_101"></a>at having to repeat his +question, "if you own this ranch."</p> + +<p>"I—er—yes. Why?" Gilbert said.</p> + +<p>Pell was quick to notice the other's discomfiture. "I have a friend who +thinks he wants to go into the cattle business. He asked me to look him up +a place. It's his own money, of course."</p> + +<p>"Then I'd advise him not to buy here," said Gilbert, much to Pell's +amazement.</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"It's too near the border," Jones answered. "The bandits come over and +steal all your cattle. It's a rotten situation. I'm sorry I ever came down +here."</p> + +<p>"That makes it all the better," Pell was shrewd enough to say. "Then he'd +lose his money quick, and be satisfied." And he laughed at what he thought +a witticism.</p> + +<p>Uncle Henry's wheel chair crossed the sill at that moment. His face was +full of news. "Hardy's coming!" he informed those in the room.</p> + +<p>"A man to see me on a matter of business," Gilbert remembered. "Will you +excuse me?" He turned to Pell.</p> + +<p>"But I want to talk to you myself," the latter reminded him.</p><p><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102"></a></p> + +<p>But young Jones had gone to the door. "I'm sorry. This is imperative, and I +must see him." He turned definitely as if to go.</p> + +<p>"But I was here first," Morgan Pell argued. He hated to be beaten by this +stripling.</p> + +<p>"I regret that I must insist," Gilbert said. And there was a duel of eyes, +as well as of wits, before Jones turned away, easily the victor. After all, +it was his own house, his own ranch. His visitor was wise enough to realize +that. He walked over to the table and took the tequila bottle up again. +"I'll have another drink, if you don't mind," he said, to Gilbert's back.</p> + +<p>"Drink?" yelled Uncle Henry from his chair, frantic at the thought of any +more of their precious liquor being consumed. It was hard enough to get, +even when one had plenty of money.</p> + +<p>"Help yourself," said Gilbert, not a little ashamed of the protest in Uncle +Henry's voice.</p> + +<p>"While I'm waiting," Pell laughed; and, taking the bottle, he went out.</p> + +<p>Uncle Henry could scarcely control himself. He switched his chair in his +nephew's direction. "Say," he wanted to know, "have you been holding out on +me?"</p> + +<p>"It's only tequila," Gilbert tried to pacify him.</p><p><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103"></a></p> + +<p>"I don't care if it's only varnish!" cried Uncle Henry, his voice rising +high and shrill. "And you let him go and take the whole bottle!" He pounded +the arm of his chair, always his last resort.</p> + +<p>Gilbert paid no attention to him. He went over to the table, as though he +hadn't said a word, and began looking for a letter in one of the drawers. +Almost immediately he laid his hand on it, and, turning to Lucia, said:</p> + +<p>"If you'll excuse me?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly. I must go and pack anyway." And she started toward the steps +that led upstairs.</p> + +<p>Gilbert went through the alcove; and no sooner had his broad shoulders +disappeared than Uncle Henry turned to Lucia Pell and cried:</p> + +<p>"Hey! Wait a minute."</p> + +<p>Lucia was astonished. She had one foot on the step, and she turned about to +see if Uncle Henry was actually addressing her. There was, obviously, no +one else to address; but she thought the cook must have come in when her +back was turned. She glared at the invalid, and said nothing.</p> + +<p>"Did you ask him?" Uncle Henry went on, paying not the slightest heed to +her surprised glance.</p><p><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104"></a></p> + +<p>"Ask who what?" Lucia asked. She was not a little interested now. She came +back into the room.</p> + +<p>"Ask him about marryin'—you know. I gotter find out because Hardy's +comin'." No speech could have been plainer and balder. "Did you?"</p> + +<p>Lucia was nonplussed at the old man's crude directness. "Yes—I mean no. I +don't remember."</p> + +<p>"Don't remember!" Uncle Henry yelled. "But that's what I left you here for! +We had it all framed up! Why didn't you?"</p> + +<p>Lucia's head drooped a bit. "We were talking about something else."</p> + +<p>The crabbed man was inflamed by this reply. "What was you talkin' about +that was so gol darned important that you forgot the only important thing +there was to talk about?... Well?" he cried, when she said nothing. "By +gollies! I remember now! You was the gal he wouldn't ask to marry him +because he didn't have no money!" He did not notice that his nephew had +come back from the other room just in time to hear this last remark. He +went on relentlessly to Lucia: "And me like a poor boob forgettin' all +about it until now!" He suddenly saw Gilbert, and, not a whit abashed, +turned on him. "So that's why you <a name="Page_105" id="Page_105"></a>won't marry Hardy's daughter! I see it +all now! I've been as blind as a hoot-owl!"</p> + +<p>There came the sound of a Ford stopping outside, and footsteps approached +up the path that led to the adobe.</p> + +<p>"It's all right, Lucia," Gilbert said, and she went upstairs, almost +weeping. Then he whirled about and glared at his uncle. "It's a good +thing—no, I don't know what I'm saying. You're an invalid, or I'd strike +you, despite your years, Uncle Henry. For heaven's sake, can't you learn to +mind your own business?"</p> + +<p>"I ain't got any. You robbed me of it!" the old man flamed back. "Now I'll +mind yours for a change. Make a monkey out o' me, will you, gol darn you!"</p> + +<p>As he was starting for the door, he bumped directly into Jasper Hardy and +his daughter Angela and the ubiquitous "Red." The trio had come over in the +Ford.</p> + +<p>Hardy, tall and thin, wore a funereal black coat, despite the heat, and a +somber dark Stetson hat. He must have been fifty or more. His skin looked +bloodless, and his eyes still had that hard, pale look. It was difficult to +trust eyes like those. He ambled, rather than walked, and his lean, lanky +<a name="Page_106" id="Page_106"></a>legs would have made him a fortune on the stage. It was difficult to +believe, as everyone always said, that the lovely little Angela, with her +bright black eyes and her rose-red cheeks, was the daughter of this +sinister man. She was as attractive as a rose;—a typical frontier maiden, +romantic, emotional, peppery when occasion demanded—just the kind to take +the fancy of an honest soul like "Red." His eyes followed her wherever she +went, as ever. She could not sit down or stand up or open her delicate lips +but that he stared at her, hoping he could be of some service to her. +Sometimes he prayed that some slight accident would befall her in order +that he might prove his devotion. If she would only be sent to jail, that +he could bring her soup and pass it through the bars of her cell! He +dreamed this once, and awakened in a cold perspiration; for Angela (in the +dream) realized his worth then; and the Governor pardoned her, and they +were married at once and lived happily ever afterward. A Freudian lapse, +maybe, and a dream a little too sane, according to the psychologists, to +mean anything much; but rich in hidden meanings for poor "Red." Oh, that it +would come true! She had been so kind and sweet to him this morning.</p><p><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107"></a></p> + +<p>Hardy ambled into the room, and looked around in the most casual way. His +eye lit upon Uncle Henry first of all, naturally; for he had all but bumped +into him.</p> + +<p>"How are you, Smith?" he said. "Evenin'."</p> + +<p>And Angela piped up, to both uncle and nephew: "Good evening."</p> + +<p>Gilbert bowed. "How do you do? Won't you sit down?" And he pulled out a +chair for Angela.</p> + +<p>"No, thanks," Hardy said; but</p> + +<p>"Yes, thanks!" his daughter decided, and popped into a seat. "Red" loved +her for it.</p> + +<p>Hardy turned to young Jones. "Well?" was all he said. He referred to his +state of health—not that he cared how Gilbert felt.</p> + +<p>"Anything but," the latter answered.</p> + +<p>Jasper Hardy always went right to the point. He disliked equivocation; so +he rasped out immediately:</p> + +<p>"Have you got the money?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>Angela, who was tender-hearted, tried to intercede.</p> + +<p>"Now, father!" she pleaded. She hated this business.</p> + +<p>But Hardy paid not the slightest heed to her.<a name="Page_108" id="Page_108"></a> He was a man of action, and +women shouldn't interfere—particularly young and pretty girls.</p> + +<p>"Then I reckon I'll have to foreclose," he went on relentlessly. "There's +nothing else to do." His hands closed tightly, and his hard eyes looked +even harder.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid you're right," Gilbert said. "I was afraid it would be +inevitable. I couldn't have hoped for anything else."</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry," Jasper Hardy announced; but did not mean it.</p> + +<p>Gilbert told him so. "Moreover, I know how you got your money," the young +man was not afraid to say.</p> + +<p>"I know how he got mine, gol darn it!" Uncle Henry cried. Hardy glared at +him, seemed to smite him with his eyes.</p> + +<p>"I'm not in business for my health," he said coldly.</p> + +<p>"Nor for anybody else's," Uncle Henry, unabashed, told him.</p> + +<p>Angela feared there was going to be trouble. "Now, daddy, you mustn't—you +really mustn't—I feel—"</p> + +<p>But her father did not hear her.</p> + +<p>"The time's up at eight o'clock," was all he <a name="Page_109" id="Page_109"></a>said, and looked sternly at +Gilbert, much as a judge who is pronouncing sentence looks at the prisoner +at the bar.</p> + +<p>"I know it," said Gilbert.</p> + +<p>"Now, daddy—" Angela began again.</p> + +<p>Hardy was angry at her repeated solicitation. "Will you let me alone? This +is my business," he said to her in a firm voice, "Remember that, and don't +attempt to put your finger in the pie. This is my business, I tell you."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know daddy; but you needn't be so mean about it."</p> + +<p>"I'm a plain man, and I don't believe in beating about the bush. Get that +through your head—every one of you, I mean."</p> + +<p>"But you might at least be—" his daughter began once more.</p> + +<p>"Won't you please keep still?" His rage was mounting; and his brow +darkened.</p> + +<p>"I only want you to be nice about it, daddy," Angela persisted, sweetly.</p> + +<p>"How can anybody be nice about a thing like this?" said the man of iron.</p> + +<p>"I know I could be," Angela informed him.</p> + +<p>Her father looked at her. "Well, what would you do?"</p><p><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110"></a></p> + +<p>"Give him his ranch back, of course!"</p> + +<p>Jasper Hardy couldn't believe what he had heard, and from his own child. +"Well, for the love of heaven!" he cried, and almost burst out laughing.</p> + +<p>"We've more ranches now than we know what to do with. Everybody is aware of +that."</p> + +<p>Here was Uncle Henry's chance. "That's the idea!" he cried. "What do you +want it for, anyhow?" But no one paid any attention to him.</p> + +<p>"Oh, will you, daddy—for my sake?" Angela pleaded.</p> + +<p>Hardy was adamant. "Certainly not! What a stupid request. How did such +ideas come into your head?"</p> + +<p>"But I don't see why—" the unremitting Angela started to say.</p> + +<p>Her father was furious now, and tired of her prattle. He turned to "Red." +"Take her out doors, will you?" as though she were a child.</p> + +<p>"Red's" face gleamed as if a lantern had been lighted behind it. He turned +eagerly to Angela. "<i>Will</i> I!" he cried.</p> + +<p>But Angela was scornful. How foolish of "Red" to think her father could +dismiss her in this way! She proceeded as though no such suggestion had +<a name="Page_111" id="Page_111"></a>been made, and addressed her father once more, not in the least perturbed:</p> + +<p>"Of course, if you're going to be nasty about it—" Then, sweetly, to +Gilbert she continued: "Please don't think too badly of us, Mr. Jones. +Father doesn't really mean any harm."</p> + +<p>"No more'n a rattlesnake," Uncle Henry leaned out of his chair to whisper +in a voice that could be heard by everyone.</p> + +<p>"It's just that he doesn't know any better," Angela went on to Gilbert. +"He's really very neighborly when he wants to be."</p> + +<p>She rose, and "Red" offered her his arm; but she haughtily rejected it, and +went out the door, unaware that the devoted and humble "Red" followed her.</p> + +<p>Jasper Hardy was glad she had gone. He could speak freely now. He addressed +Jones.</p> + +<p>"Packed up yet?" he inquired, sarcastically, as though he meant to intimate +that his coming journey would be a pleasant one.</p> + +<p>Gilbert could have struck him; but he replied quietly: "I'll just put on my +hat and I'll be ready."</p> + +<p>But the literal-minded Hardy remarked:</p> + +<p>"Them crockery, and the rugs?" pointing to the articles significantly.</p><p><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112"></a></p> + +<p>"The rugs I'm presenting to a friend of mine. The crockery goes to the +cook. He has a family, you know." His irony was lost on the imperturbable +Hardy, who merely asked:</p> + +<p>"And you ain't got anything more to say, Jones?" He watched him closely.</p> + +<p>"Nothing of general interest."</p> + +<p>But Uncle Henry wasn't going to let matters end here.</p> + +<p>"I've got something to say," he announced like an oracle. "Your daughter +wants to marry him!" He imagined this would prove a thunderbolt; but Hardy +calmly asked:</p> + +<p>"How do you know that?"</p> + +<p>"Because she told me, that's how! And if only the gol darn fool would do it +like I want him to—" He addressed himself suddenly to his nephew, who now +stood on the other side of the table: "Aw, come on. Be a good feller, won't +you?"</p> + +<p>Again this outlandish interfering on the part of Uncle Henry! Was the old +fellow losing his reason? There was no privacy in their affairs—everything +was an open book to anyone who came to the adobe. It was getting to be +unbearable. Gilbert had controlled himself long enough in the presence <a name="Page_113" id="Page_113"></a>of +others. He was sick and tired of the old man's meddling.</p> + +<p>"Keep still!" he warned him, and shook his finger in his face, "Keep still, +I say!" His cheeks were scarlet with rage. The blood pounded in his veins.</p> + +<p>The invalid never lost his courage. "You won't marry her?" was what he +said.</p> + +<p>"How can I, you—you—" Gilbert could scarcely stand it any longer.</p> + +<p>"Gol darn, the gol darn—" cried Uncle Henry; and then he swerved on Jasper +Hardy: "Maybe you can persuade him," he suggested.</p> + +<p>"Persuade him to what?"</p> + +<p>"To marry her," Smith brazenly said.</p> + +<p>"I don't want him to marry her," the father was honest enough to say.</p> + +<p>This had never occurred to Uncle Henry. "What's the matter with him?" he +asked, his eyes opening wide in amazement.</p> + +<p>"It would take too long to tell you." Hardy considered the argument closed; +but Uncle Henry came right back again:</p> + +<p>"But he's my nevyer!"</p> + +<p>"That's one of my main reasons," Hardy cruelly announced; and the only +come-back poor Uncle<a name="Page_114" id="Page_114"></a> Henry had was an exasperated, "Oh, is that so!" +drawled out peevishly, weakly.</p> + +<p>"I want his ranch, not him," Hardy went on. He might have been discussing +someone not in the room.</p> + +<p>"But he's a fine young feller, if I do say so!" Uncle Henry came to +Gilbert's rescue, after the manner of all relatives when an outsider steps +in with criticism.</p> + +<p>"Only a minute ago I heard you call him a gol darn fool!" Hardy +triumphantly reminded him.</p> + +<p>"There you are," said Gilbert, addressing his uncle. "That's what you +get—"</p> + +<p>"Do you think I want my darter to marry a gol darn fool?" Hardy fired back +at the old man.</p> + +<p>Uncle Henry was flabbergasted, completely done for, for the moment. "Well, +what the—" But he could get no farther.</p> + +<p>Jasper Hardy looked at Gilbert, "Well, now that's settled."</p> + +<p>Uncle Henry butted in once more. "You won't let her?"</p> + +<p>"Let her what?" A pair of steely eyes were fixed on the questioner.</p> + +<p>"Marry him. Won't you?"</p><p><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115"></a></p> + +<p>"Of course not. What are you talking about, you old fool?"</p> + +<p>Uncle Henry was not to be outdone. He whisked around, facing the door, and +called at the top of his voice:</p> + +<p>"Angely! Angely!"</p> + +<p>From the yard came back, "Yes, I'm coming!" and Hardy's daughter ran in, +with "Red" at her heels.</p> + +<p>"Did you call me?" she wanted to know, looking at all three.</p> + +<p>"Yes; I did," said Uncle Henry. "I wanted to tell you that it ain't no use. +They won't neither of 'em do nothin'."</p> + +<p>"Who won't?" asked Angela, mystified. She hadn't an idea what the old man +was talking about.</p> + +<p>"The poor stiffs!" said Uncle Henry.</p> + +<p>"Do what?" Angela pursued.</p> + +<p>"I asked 'em!" the invalid whined.</p> + +<p>The girl grew impatient. "For goodness' sake, asked them what?"</p> + +<p>"To marry you, of course!"</p> + +<p>Angela thought she must be dreaming.</p> + +<p>"You—asked him—to marry me?" She looked about her, bewildered.</p> + +<p>"Yes; and he turned you down!"</p><p><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116"></a></p> + +<p>Surely now this must be a dream! "Red," too, was in a daze, suffering +vicariously for his adored one.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" cried Angela, when a full realization of what Uncle Henry meant came +over her.</p> + +<p>Uncle Henry went on: "Like your own payrent—the stony-hearted old +reptile!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Gil—" began Angela in tears.</p> + +<p>"Go on—you ask 'em!" suggested Uncle Henry.</p> + +<p>"Gil—" the girl got out the first syllable of his name, and no more; for +her little handkerchief was at her pretty nose.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry," said Gilbert, gallantly, going to her. "Please don't feel +badly about it."</p> + +<p>"Don't—don't speak to me!" Angela sniffed, and stamped her dainty foot. +"Don't look at me! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you all!" Blinded with +rage and tears, she crossed the room, and stumbled directly into Uncle +Henry's chair, and all but tipped him over. "Red" followed her, +solicitously.</p> + +<p>"Now, Angela—" he said, and tried to grasp her arm. "Remember, I'm here!"</p> + +<p>But all the thanks he got was a wild, "Get out of my way!" and he found +himself pushed aside, into a corner. Another of her unsuspected tantrums!</p><p><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117"></a></p> + +<p>"My God!" ejaculated Uncle Henry, furious at Angela's accident, which so +directly concerned himself, "but everybody's unreasonable to-day!" He +turned harshly on his nephew. "You make me sick, you! Here am I doing my +gol darndest to save the mess you've made, and you won't even—" He broke +off, unable, in his wrath, to continue. His eye lit on Hardy. "Look here," +he cried, in desperation, "ain't there no way out of this thing? It was my +money that bought this ranch, you know. And everybody knows it! The last +ten thousand dollars I had in the world!" There was a sob in his voice on +the last words.</p> + +<p>Hardy looked at him, but with no pity in his gaze. "That's your lookout, +Smith. Everybody for himself—that's my motto."</p> + +<p>"And you'd throw me, old and sick, a invalid, out into the streets?" Uncle +Henry whined. No one could get more pathos into his tones than Uncle Henry +when he wanted to do so.</p> + +<p>"No; I'd let you wheel yourself out," Jasper Hardy, again the +literal-minded Hardy, said. It was one of the meanest remarks that even he +had ever made.</p> + +<p>"Say, ain't you got no heart at all?" Uncle Henry wanted to know.</p><p><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118"></a></p> + +<p>"I used to have; but it cost me too much money," was Hardy's explanation +and vindication. "Sentiment? Bosh!" And he made a gesture of deep disgust.</p> + +<p>Uncle Henry wanted to put a curse on him! "Well, all I hope is that some +day you'll go broke and they'll bounce you out into Main Street!" He +chuckled in his chair.</p> + +<p>"The line forms on the left," the imperturbable Hardy said. "You're the +fifth that's had that hope this year. I don't care a rap what you think, +old feller! Remember that!"</p> + +<p>A shadow appeared on the doorsill; and Morgan Pell came in. His face was +harder than ever. It was obvious that he had not thrown away the bottle of +tequila until he had consumed the contents. His eye lit on Hardy at once, +but he said nothing to him. Instead, he meandered toward Gilbert and +observed, insolently enough:</p> + +<p>"Look here, you've kept me waiting too long. What does this mean, eh?"</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry," Gilbert returned. "I forgot all about you for the moment. Oh," +he suddenly remembered that Hardy and Pell were unacquainted, "you two +gentlemen ought to know each other. Mr. Pell, shake hands with Mr. Hardy."</p><p><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119"></a></p> + +<p>Pell gave the other a curt nod. "How are you?" was all he could bring +himself to say.</p> + +<p>"Pleased to meet you," answered Hardy, and turned away, "Red" and Angela, +interested spectators of this foolish proceeding, sat together on the +little settee by the window near the door, and smiled at the +shillyshallying of two grown men who should have known better. +Civilization! A mockery, surely, when two men couldn't be amenable in the +presence of others—two men who apparently had no reason for treating each +other this way.</p> + +<p>Pell suddenly addressed Jones. "I forgot to tell you that we're going this +afternoon."</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry," said his host.</p> + +<p>"And before I go," Pell went on, "there's a matter of business I want to +talk over with you. So if this gentleman is through—" he indicated Hardy +with his thumb.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'll be through, all right—at eight o'clock to-night!" Jasper Hardy +announced, and drew several silver dollars out of his trousers pocket and +rattled them about in his hand, significantly.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, eight o'clock?" Pell wondered.</p> + +<p>Hardy's eyes pierced him through and through.<a name="Page_120" id="Page_120"></a> "When I foreclose the +mortgage I hold on this ranch. Understand now?"</p> + +<p>"When you foreclose...." Pell repeated the words as if he had not quite +comprehended. Then he said to young Jones: "You said this ranch belongs to +you?" What was the matter with him? Was his mind clouding? The stuff he had +drunk? He put his hand to his forehead.</p> + +<p>"It does," Gilbert explained. "You see, it isn't eight o'clock yet." A +faint smile came to his lips.</p> + +<p>Hardy failed to see the humor of the situation. "It's as good as eight +o'clock, as far as he's concerned." And he rattled the silver coins again.</p> + +<p>"Oh, is that so?" said Pell, beginning to see daylight. To young Jones he +said: "How far is it to town?"</p> + +<p>"Twenty miles, I should say."</p> + +<p>Pell thought a second, "Is that flivver of yours working, Jones?"</p> + +<p>"In a way."</p> + +<p>Pell thought harder. "We've got plenty of time," he said, as if to himself. +"Five hours! Get your hat," turning to the young man.</p> + +<p>Gilbert was confused. "What's the idea?"</p> + +<p>"We're going to pay the mortgage, of course. How much is it?"</p><p><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121"></a></p> + +<p>"Shouldn't you have asked that first—as a good business man?"</p> + +<p>"Answer me: how much is it?"</p> + +<p>"Ten thousand dollars," came the quick response.</p> + +<p>"And your equity?" Pell pursued, businesslike enough now.</p> + +<p>"Another ten thousand."</p> + +<p>He thought Morgan Pell would be stunned. Instead, he merely said, "I'll +give you twenty thousand. That'll pay the mortgage and give you your ten +back. You can give me an option while I'm arranging payment. Get me? +That'll save time."</p> + +<p>"You mean you'll give me twenty thousand dollars for this ranch?" Gilbert +said, unable to understand.</p> + +<p>"Exactly. Will you take it?"</p> + +<p>"You bet your life he'll take it!" cried Uncle Henry, whom everyone had +forgotten in the excitement of the moment. He rolled his chair expertly to +the table, and peered into his nephew's face, fearing he would make a fool +of himself once more. He was trembling with excitement.</p> + +<p>"Then that's settled," Pell announced.</p> + +<p>Unnoticed, Lucia had come to the top of the <a name="Page_122" id="Page_122"></a>stairway, and stood listening +to every word. And Hardy, who had been trying his best to get a word in +edgewise, finally managed to cry out:</p> + +<p>"Wait a minute!"</p> + +<p>No one paid any attention to him. Gilbert was in deep meditation. He turned +to Pell. "But I don't want to be under any obligation to you," he said.</p> + +<p>"You won't," the other affirmed, and anxiety was in his voice. "Well, is it +a go?"</p> + +<p>"A go?" yelled Uncle Henry, unable to restrain himself. "It's gone!"</p> + +<p>Hardy stepped in between Pell and Jones.</p> + +<p>"Hold on, there! You can't do this."</p> + +<p>Pell looked him squarely in the face, "Why not, I'd like to know."</p> + +<p>"You mean you'd do me out of this property at the last minute?" Jasper +Hardy asked.</p> + +<p>Pell smiled. "That's my specialty!"</p> + +<p>Indignation was in every fiber of Hardy's gaunt frame. He was losing his +temper, and he was wise enough to know that that would never do. The +unforgivable sin was to lose control of oneself. He must hold on to his +voice, his movements; but a nest of hornets, under attack, could not have +been angrier. "I protest!" he said, as calmly as he <a name="Page_123" id="Page_123"></a>could. "Here I been +settin' around waitin' for this place for five years! You can't come here +an' take it away from me like this! No, sir, I won't have it!"</p> + +<p>"Look here," Gilbert stepped in and said. "You're getting your money! What +are you boiling about?"</p> + +<p>"Red" had been listening attentively. He came close to Gilbert now, and +said, "He wants the place. Didn't he just say so?"</p> + +<p>"The place?" Gilbert repeated. "What the devil does he want the place for?"</p> + +<p>Pell was growing impatient. There was too much quibbling. "We're losing +time. Come on, let's get things settled."</p> + +<p>Jones, however, was not to be hurried. "But I want to know why he wants +this place so much." His suspicions were thoroughly aroused.</p> + +<p>No one had observed Uncle Henry, who had silently wheeled his chair about +until he got to the table, where Pell had left his satchel long ago. Like a +curious old woman he now picked it up, brazenly opened it, and exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Hey! What the Sam Hill!" and backed away; but not until he had dipped his +hands into the bag.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?" Gilbert asked, turning.</p><p><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124"></a></p> + +<p>"It's full o' dirt! Just dirt!" Uncle Henry cried, and glanced about to see +the effect of his surprising information.</p> + +<p>"Dirt?" Gilbert said, not understanding.</p> + +<p>"Yes, look!" And the old man pointed to the bag.</p> + +<p>"But whose bag is it?" Gilbert persisted.</p> + +<p>Uncle Henry lifted a thin finger and directed it to Pell. "His'n!" he said.</p> + +<p>But Gilbert was still in a daze.</p> + +<p>"But what in the world could anybody be taking specimens of the soil around +here for?" he inquired, and then began to think.</p> + +<p>"Just to show the character of the ground, to see what will grow best," +Pell hastened to explain.</p> + +<p>"But it won't grow nothin'—not even rocks, an' you know it," the occupant +of the wheel chair said. Then a new thought came to him, and he shot out, +"By golly, I got it! He's an oil man, ain't he?"</p> + +<p>Pell, furious, cried, "Oh, shut up! You old busybody!"</p> + +<p>"He wants to buy this ranch because there's oil here!" Uncle Henry went on, +not dismayed in the least at the other's insult.</p> + +<p>"Bah!" Pell scornfully ejaculated.</p> + +<p>Gilbert's face was a study. His eyes went from <a name="Page_125" id="Page_125"></a>one to another in the room. +"Oil?" he said. "Oil?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, an' that's why <i>he</i> wants it, too!" cried Uncle Henry, pointing to +Hardy this time, "The big skin!"</p> + +<p>Pell took up the satchel—the little bag that had caused such a big +sensation—and walked over to Uncle Henry's chair.</p> + +<p>"Why, you poor old dotard, there's no oil in these specimens. You can smell +'em yourself if you want to," he said. But there was something in his +manner of the lady who doth protest too much.</p> + +<p>"No, I can't," Uncle Henry was swift to deny. "My smeller's no good." He +sniffed comically—as if that proved his point.</p> + +<p>"Let <i>him</i> examine them, then," suggested Pell, holding the satchel out to +Gilbert, who stood on the other side of the table.</p> + +<p>But Gilbert said nothing. It was Uncle Henry who again blurted out:</p> + +<p>"That don't prove nothin'. Mebbe he hasn't found the oil yet. But it's +here! If it ain't, why should you be fightin' so hard to get this rotten +place? Tell me that, will you? Nobody else ever wanted it—except this +kindly neighbor of ours!" He glared at Hardy triumphantly.</p><p><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126"></a></p> + +<p>Pell was silent. Gilbert came to himself.</p> + +<p>"Oil!" he said. "Then this ranch, instead of being worth nothing, would be +worth hundreds of thousand of dollars—maybe millions!" He had taken the +bag from Pell's extended hand, and now turned in dismay and confusion to +the window, and put the bag on a chair. What a world it was, and how +terrible that every other man seemed to be a predatory animal, ready to +spring upon his neighbor and wrest anything he had away from him. What a +world, indeed! No wonder young men lost their faith and courage!</p> + +<p>"Millions!" The word caught Uncle Henry's fancy and imagination. He rolled +it over on his tongue again and again. "Millions!" He babbled it, he played +with it. "Millions!"</p> + +<p>"Yes!" Gilbert said. "Think of that!" He turned and faced the others once +more.</p> + +<p>"An' we're goin' to get skinned out of millions! Oh, my Gawd!" The poor old +invalid wailed it out, and rocked himself in his chair. How he wished he +could rise, step out on the floor and knock Pell and Hardy down! Why didn't +his strong and husky young nephew do it? What was the matter with the +present generation, anyhow? Wasn't there any red blood in it? If he had +only <a name="Page_127" id="Page_127"></a>been younger, and strong, able to fight for what he knew to be his +rights! But here he was, tied down in a wheel chair, trapped, helpless, +impotent.</p> + +<p>Pell was getting nervous, "This is nonsense," he said. "There's no oil +here."</p> + +<p>During all this long harangue, Lucia had quietly come down the stairs, and +now stood directly behind her husband.</p> + +<p>"And this is why you were so anxious to come here," she said, very low; yet +everyone heard her statement. "To dig around, and then, if you found oil, +to try to buy this place! Oh, I thought better of you than that, Morgan! +What a trick—what a dishonorable trick!" She shuddered away from him. She +almost hated him in this revealing moment.</p> + +<p>"And why not?" was all her husband said. "Hadn't I a right to look for oil +here? Suppose it was on the place?"</p> + +<p>"You wouldn't have told him if you had found it! You know you wouldn't," +his wife shot back at him.</p> + +<p>Pell glared at her, fury in the look. "What do you think I am? Crazy?" he +argued.</p> + +<p>"But that isn't honest!" Lucia fearlessly said. "It's as crooked as it can +be! And you know it."</p><p><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128"></a></p> + +<p>"But it's legal!" Pell fired back. "And what do I care—what does anybody +care—so long as it's legal! Ha! the courts would be with me! Moreover, +it's the way you get the clothes you wear and the food you eat, and all +those jewels that you hang on yourself when you undress and go to the +opera!"</p> + +<p>As he spoke, angrily, he went over to the chair where Gilbert had left the +satchel, seized it and threw it on the floor, as though its contents were a +symbol of the money she tossed away.</p> + +<p>There was no use replying to a man like Pell. Lucia knew that. He was +indignant that she had seen through his treachery. Here he was, a guest of +Gilbert Jones, eating at his table day after day, pretending to be his +friend, and all the while he had been planning this! And she had seemed to +be a part of it all. What must Gilbert think of her? What must everybody +think of her?</p> + +<p>It was Hardy who broke the tension.</p> + +<p>"Say," he wanted to know, "who's this woman, and what's she busting into +this for? We've had enough of petticoats around here for one day, it seems +to me."</p> + +<p>Uncle Henry was swift to inform him. "I'll tell you who she is—she's his +wife!" And he <a name="Page_129" id="Page_129"></a>pointed to Pell. "But she loves <i>him</i>!" And he pointed to +Gilbert.</p> + +<p>It was as though a bomb had exploded. Terror came into Gilbert's eyes, and +fury into Morgan Pell's.</p> + +<p>"What's that?" the latter cried, aghast. As a madman might, he stared at +Gilbert for an instant; then his gaze shot in the direction of his wife, +standing so calm at the other side of the table.</p> + +<p>Young Jones almost made up his mind, in that blinding moment, to choke +Uncle Henry once for all, and have it done with. This was the last stroke, +the final straw. He could stand it no longer. He stalked over to his uncle, +and really intended to lay violent hands on him; but of course he could +not. That defenseless old man, that pathetic figure seemed to wilt before +his piercing eyes, seemed to shrivel and literally fall to pieces. In hot +disgust, Gilbert could only cry out:</p> + +<p>"How dare you! How dare you, I say! This is the crowning interference!" He +had put his hands behind his back and braced his shoulders, fearing that he +would not be responsibile for what he did.</p> + +<p>Uncle Henry, seeing that he was safe, came back to the fray.</p><p><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130"></a></p> + +<p>"Well, you <i>couldn't</i> marry her," indicating Lucia, "an' you <i>wouldn't</i> +marry <i>her</i>," pointing to Angela. "I guess I got some right to protect +myself, ain't I?"</p> + +<p>"Protect yourself!" repeated Gilbert, cynicism in his tone. He turned his +back on them all and moved to the window. His very shoulders revealed the +mental struggle he was going through.</p> + +<p>Morgan Pell's eyes, all this time, had never left his wife. He studied her +countenance as a pathologist might that of a person thought to be insane, +and Lucia almost gave way under his relentless analysis. "Red," seeing the +turn affairs had taken, quietly drew his gun, and Angela, frightened, put +her hands over her shell-like ears. If there was one thing she dreaded, it +was a shot. She was trembling like a leaf. She closed her eyes. She knew +that "Red," in his devotion to Gilbert, would not hesitate to kill Pell.</p> + +<p>With an inscrutable expression, Morgan Pell murmured, "H'm!" Then he turned +swiftly on Uncle Henry and asked, "You have proof, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Proof?" cried Uncle Henry.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"My Gawd," the invalid fairly shrieked, "all <a name="Page_131" id="Page_131"></a>you gotter do is look at 'em! +I been watchin' 'em ever since you came."</p> + +<p>At this, Gilbert honestly believed that Uncle Henry had lost his reason. +Surely this was the insane delusion of a senile old man; and he said as +much to Pell.</p> + +<p>"Senile yourself!" cried Uncle Henry, mad through and through, feeling he +was immune from any attack. "Gol darn you!"</p> + +<p>So there was no shutting Uncle Henry up! Gilbert, in despair, turned to +Pell. "You don't believe it! You can't believe it!" he said. "This is +madness—"</p> + +<p>Pell said not a word; he seemed to be in deep thought. Suddenly his whole +manner changed, his voice as well, and he faced Gilbert frankly.</p> + +<p>"Certainly I don't believe it. My confidence in my wife is implicit."</p> + +<p>The metamorphosis was unbelievable. At least Uncle Henry thought so.</p> + +<p>"Well, I always heard that husbands was boobs!" he announced, +sarcastically.</p> + +<p>Angela at that instant opened her eyes and took her fingers from her ears. +Enough time had elapsed, she thought, for the worst to have happened.</p><p><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132"></a></p> + +<p>"Has it gone off yet?" she naïvely asked.</p> + +<p>"Has what gone off?" from Pell.</p> + +<p>"Why, the gun, of course!" Angela replied.</p> + +<p>"Gun?"</p> + +<p>She looked at "Red." "He had one, and I thought maybe he'd shoot you, or +maybe you'd shoot Gilbert, or maybe—Aren't you going to shoot him?"</p> + +<p>"What for?"</p> + +<p>"I thought that was what husbands always did!"</p> + +<p>Pell smiled. "Not sensible husbands, my dear." Then he faced Gilbert again. +"To go back to where we were: I will admit that there is a possibility of +oil in this property. But it is only a possibility." The strain was broken. +Everyone looked relieved. Lucia moved for the first time—she had been like +a frightened bird under the spell of a serpent. "I'm a business man," Pell +went on, suavely. "I'm willing to gamble twenty thousand dollars."</p> + +<p>"You will?" cried Uncle Henry. There was no quieting him. His life was one +long question-mark.</p> + +<p>"It's a fair proposition, and, as far as I can see, your only way out, +Jones." He had paid no attention <a name="Page_133" id="Page_133"></a>to the old man's interruption. But the +latter broke in once more:</p> + +<p>"Why don't you lend <i>us</i> the ten thousand and let <i>us</i> gamble?"</p> + +<p>Pell was in no wise disconcerted by the query. He replied with another +question—always the shrewd man's way out of a difficulty, "Would you, in +my place?"</p> + +<p>"Sure I would!" came from the wheel chair.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you would—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, <i>sir</i>!"</p> + +<p>Pell had nothing further to say to him, but addressed himself to Gilbert +again.</p> + +<p>"However, if you don't think that offer fair, I'll give you twenty thousand +cash and assume the mortgages."</p> + +<p>"Twenty thousand?" Uncle Henry's eyes opened wide.</p> + +<p>"Well, what do you say?" Pell wanted to know, still addressing Gilbert. He +had no taste for Smith's constant interruptions.</p> + +<p>But Hardy broke in, confounded by this talk. He saw himself slipping out of +the transactions. "If you think you're going to ..."</p> + +<p>Pell paid no heed to what he said. "If I were in your place," he remarked +to young Jones, "it <a name="Page_134" id="Page_134"></a>wouldn't take me long to decide. You see, from me you +get twenty thousand dollars clean. Otherwise, the place goes to him." He +nodded toward Hardy. "And you get nothing. It's mighty plain—as plain as +the nose on your face. I'm a plain man, and I don't quibble. I've made you +a direct offer. Nothing could be fairer. Well?"</p> + +<p>Gilbert didn't pause or hesitate a second. "All right. Give him the ten +thousand," indicating Hardy.</p> + +<p>Morgan Pell was visibly relieved. Things seemed to be going his way, just +as he had planned. Sturgis had been right, after all. He rubbed his hands +in satisfaction, "And now, to facilitate matters," he said, "if you will +give us a ten-day option on the place, at a purchase price of thirty +thousand ..." He went to the table, and arranged pen and paper, and +motioned Gilbert to be seated and write.</p> + +<p>The latter was in the chair at once. "Thank you, no. Twenty," he said, and +began to write.</p> + +<p>"Twenty?" Pell repeated, and stroked his chin. He must be wary; he must go +cautiously with this young fellow. He would see through him if he didn't. +"Certainly. Your first offer is the one I take," Gilbert said in a firm +voice.</p><p><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135"></a></p> + +<p>Uncle Henry couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You mean you ain't going +to take the other ten?" he cried, in surprise. Gilbert never looked up from +his writing. The pen was moving swiftly over the paper. Uncle Henry was on +the verge of a nervous breakdown then and there. He looked at Pell, +eagerly. "Give it to me! <i>I'll</i> take it!"</p> + +<p>But Pell only said: "Mr. Jones is the owner of this property," and watched +the young man write.</p> + +<p>Angela, like a timid bird, watched the proceedings breathlessly, and moved +over close to her big father and put her little hand in his arm, "Isn't +there anything we can do, dad?" she inquired.</p> + +<p>Hardy pressed her fingers, and said, in a whisper: "But I'm not sure +there's oil here. I'm not sure at all."</p> + +<p>"But <i>he</i> seems to be," said the shrewd Angela, looking at Morgan Pell with +his wily countenance.</p> + +<p>"Oh, these New York fellers!" Hardy deprecated. "You never can tell!"</p> + +<p>Gilbert rose.</p> + +<p>"Finished?" asked Pell.</p> + +<p>"Quite." And young Jones handed him the option on the property.</p><p><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136"></a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<h4>WHEREIN LUCIA SEES TREACHERY BREWING, PELL PROVES HIMSELF A BRUTE, AND AN +UNEXPECTED GUEST APPEARS</h4> + + +<p>When Lucia saw Gilbert pass the paper to her husband, she thought she could +not stand it. It was not her concern; and yet it was. Vitally, whatever +affected young Jones affected her. She could not see him tricked, duped. +And she knew that he was being played with, made a fool of. Some ulterior +motive lay beneath this seeming generosity. She tried to control herself; +but suddenly she found herself speaking.</p> + +<p>"No! Don't! I can't—"</p> + +<p>But she could get no farther. Something seemed to choke her, and make it +impossible for her to continue.</p> + +<p>Her husband looked at her in amazement. She turned away, and was silent.</p><p><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137"></a></p> + +<p>"Thank you," said Pell to Gilbert. Then, to his wife he said: "And now that +this is settled, we shall proceed to other business of even more +importance. This gentle soul," looking at Uncle Henry, "has said that our +friend loves you and that you love him. Is it true?" He was perfectly calm.</p> + +<p>Once more he was the crafty, cruel, scheming man; and back into his eyes +came that glitter she so feared.</p> + +<p>Gilbert, astonished, got to the other side of the table.</p> + +<p>"I thought we were through with all that!" he said. "What's the use of +harping on it?"</p> + +<p>"You were wrong," answered Pell, coldly. "I am a business man, as I told +you before. I do one thing at a time." His lids half closed, his hands +clenched. He swerved abruptly on his wife. "Well?" he said. "Well?"</p> + +<p>"You mean to say," said Gilbert, "that you took seriously what my doddering +old uncle said? I told you I thought he was crazy, and you seemed to agree +with me. What are you talking about now?"</p> + +<p>Morgan Pell's steel-gray eyes fastened themselves on Jones, "I am talking +to my wife. I am not ready for you—yet. One thing at a time, you <a name="Page_138" id="Page_138"></a>know." +He looked again at Lucia. "Well? I am waiting. Answer me: Do you love him?"</p> + +<p>Alarm at Pell's manner was rife in the room. What a brute he was, and how +terrible was his verbal attack!</p> + +<p>Lucia could not trust herself to speak. She knew she would have to reply to +her husband's question, and though she knew her answer would be but a +monosyllable, she could not get it out.</p> + +<p>"Well?" Pell repeated, and the word was like a hammer-blow.</p> + +<p>"No!" Lucia managed to say.</p> + +<p>The husband now turned on Gilbert. "Do <i>you</i> love <i>her</i>?" he asked with +great deliberation, as though he had rehearsed it in his mind for days.</p> + +<p>"Certainly not," was the immediate reply.</p> + +<p>The silence that followed could have been cut with a knife. Everyone stood +as though turned to stone. Surely this denial would be enough. Pell did not +move. A menacing expression came over his face. As though there were no one +else in the world, he glanced first at his wife and then at Jones, and +affirmed with quiet deliberation:</p> + +<p>"You're a couple of rotten liars!"</p> + +<p>Had he been struck in the face, Gilbert could not have been angrier. He saw +it all now—he was in <a name="Page_139" id="Page_139"></a>this man's power, utterly. It had been planned +craftily, smoothly. And there was no escape for Lucia. God! what he had +gotten her in for! He cursed the tongue of Uncle Henry, and mentally he +heaped maledictions on his own head for his gross stupidity. So this was +how the land lay—this was the path that led to his destruction—ah! not +only his, but hers! Angry as he was, he knew it would be futile to do +anything but try, even now, to placate this wretched specimen of a man. He +had to think quickly. There was not an instant to lose.</p> + +<p>"But you said you didn't believe ..." he began; but Pell came mercilessly +back at him!</p> + +<p>"I didn't—then. The time was inopportune."</p> + +<p>Uncle Henry clutched the arms of his chair. "Ooooooh! The dirty bum!" he +yelled.</p> + +<p>Pell went on, inexorably. "But now that she herself has admitted it, and—"</p> + +<p>"Admitted it!" Gilbert cried, his rage now at the boiling point.</p> + +<p>"Yes! By everything she has said and done to-day. My dear fellow," with a +subtle change of tone, "God knows I am no prude." He smiled a bland smile. +"But there are limits to what any husband can endure." His lips became thin +and terrible; his eyes were gleaming slits.</p><p><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140"></a></p> + +<p>Gilbert was aghast. He saw no solution of this painful situation; no safety +for Lucia—his thoughts were all of Lucia.</p> + +<p>"You don't think that!" he said, "You couldn't possibly think that! Oh, my +God!"</p> + +<p>Morgan Pell sneered at him. "I know what I would have done, in your place +and with your opportunities."</p> + +<p>Gilbert found it hard to realize that any husband could say a thing like +this in the presence of his wife. It revealed, if anything further were +needed to reveal, the cur in the man.</p> + +<p>"We're not all as rotten as you are, Pell! Don't forget that!" he cried. +"You're a dog—a low-down dog." It was all he could do not to spring upon +this craven and pin him to the floor.</p> + +<p>"And we're not all as discreet as you!" Pell flung back. "And now, if you +don't mind," he added insinuatingly, "I'd like to talk to my wife—alone."</p> + +<p>Gilbert was consumed with fear for Lucia. "What?" he cried.</p> + +<p>"Have you any objections?" Pell said, curling his lip. The irony in his +tone was unmistakable.</p> + +<p>Gilbert moved toward the door. "Why—no."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," Pell said; and he threw wide the <a name="Page_141" id="Page_141"></a>door leading from the alcove +so that his host might pass through. He waited for him to do so. Gilbert +hesitated for the fraction of a second. He looked at Pell, and then at +Lucia, still lovely for all her suffering. There was nothing to +say—nothing he could say. He disappeared into the other room, and shut the +door behind him. Pell immediately turned to the others. "Well?" he said.</p> + +<p>"You mean you want us to get out too?" Uncle Henry asked, indignation in +his high voice.</p> + +<p>"That's exactly what I do mean," Morgan Pell stated, firmly. "And the +sooner the better."</p> + +<p>The situation, he felt, was entirely in his hands.</p> + +<p>"Oh, very well!" Uncle Henry replied. He pushed his chair toward the door, +murmuring as he went, "Thank God I ain't his wife! That's all I got to +say!"</p> + +<p>Hardy was still standing in the shadows. He looked at "Red." "What's he +going to do?" meaning Pell.</p> + +<p>"I don't know. I—" the foreman answered. Angela, frightened, followed the +husky "Red" through the door; and the husband and wife were left entirely +alone.</p> + +<p>There was a pregnant silence. Terror came into Lucia's heart. Her brain +reeled. She had seen<a name="Page_142" id="Page_142"></a> Morgan in a temper before—many times; but never with +quite this sinister light in his eyes, this tense, quiet force behind his +slightest gesture. What was he going to say to her? She felt like an animal +at bay. She determined that she would gain one advantage by making him be +the first to speak. But as he approached her slowly, fear seized her. He +seemed no longer a man, just a hulking giant—a brutal, frenzied creature; +and something quite apart from herself caused her to cry out:</p> + +<p>"What are you going to do?" Oddly there flashed into her mind that very +line, and she wondered where she had heard it. Yes, even in her terror, her +abject fear, she remembered. It was once when, as a child, she had seen a +dramatization of "Oliver Twist." Bill Sykes came toward Nancy, just as +Morgan was coming toward her now, with leering countenance, and the poor +wretch had screamed out: "What are you going to do?" That scene was forever +photographed on her brain, and now, from some strange recess, Nancy's +pitiful words came back to her.</p> + +<p>He did not answer. Another step, and he would be upon her.</p> + +<p>"What is it, Morgan? Oh, what is it?" She shrunk back, slowly. If he +touched her ...</p><p><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143"></a></p> + +<p>But he did not lift his hand, as she fully expected him to do. Instead, he +uttered only two words. They were a command.</p> + +<p>"Kiss me!"</p> + +<p>Almost she would rather have felt his blows raining on her head.</p> + +<p>"What?" she cried, a new amazement within her.</p> + +<p>He glared down at her. His breath was on her cheek.</p> + +<p>"You heard," he stated. And he stood stock still.</p> + +<p>Frightened beyond believing or seeing, she offered her cheek to him. "But +I—" she managed to get out.</p> + +<p>Pell saw that she was shrinking away again; she could not bring herself to +do as he willed.</p> + +<p>"So!" her husband cried, significantly. Now she realized, in a blinding +flash, the cruel subtlety behind his test of her. Her head went back; she +closed her eyes. And then—how she did it she never knew—she raised her +mouth.</p> + +<p>"I don't want to kiss you." It was the refinement of cruelty. "I want <i>you</i> +to kiss <i>me</i>. Do it!" His hands were behind his back. He stood straight and +stiff as an Indian chief.</p> + +<p>He watched her least movement. He put his <a name="Page_144" id="Page_144"></a>lips very close to her mouth. +She struggled in that one mad second, and tried to kiss him. She could +not—she could not bring herself to the act.</p> + +<p>He laughed sardonically. The devil himself could not have laughed liked +that.</p> + +<p>"Some women could have done it," he told her, sternly. "But not you, my +dear...." Fury and sarcasm were in his tone. "So! That's it, is it? And I +stand blindly by while you and he ..."</p> + +<p>Utter madness seemed to rush upon him.</p> + +<p>Lucia had backed to the table. "No! I can't. You—you brute!"</p> + +<p>Pell watched her, steadily. "Do you think I am a fool? Or that you are more +than human?" he cried out.</p> + +<p>"I swear to God!" she contradicted him.</p> + +<p>"Ha! You've had your turn, my lady! Now, it's mine! And after all I've done +for you, you ungrateful hussy!"</p> + +<p>The clock struck three. It seemed an eternity until the little bell ceased. +Her life with him swam before her in that brief period. All she could utter +was:</p> + +<p>"What are you going to do?" And she clutched <a name="Page_145" id="Page_145"></a>her hands in helplessness, +for she read some sinister purpose in his voice.</p> + +<p>"I'm going to do what I once saw another sensible husband do under these +circumstances."</p> + +<p>Lucia's face was ashen now. "What is that?"</p> + +<p>A second's pause. She hung on his answer.</p> + +<p>"Horses don't know who they really belong to. So they are branded. There is +no reason why women equally ignorant shouldn't be similarly treated." Every +word was measured, uttered with fearful distinctness. His hand shot behind +him on the table, where "Red" had left his spurs. Lucia saw the swift +movement.</p> + +<p>"No!" she screamed, "Oh, no, Morgan, not that!" Her senses reeled. The +earth crashed beneath her.</p> + +<p>But he paid no heed. He seized her fiercely by one arm, reaching far out to +do so, and, gorilla-like, he had her, this weak flower, in his clutches. He +pinioned her deftly, and thrust her lovely body back, until her face looked +upward from the table. With his right hand, he started to tear her +beautiful face to shreds with the cruel spurs, forever to ruin her glorious +features, when, as if through a miracle, the door was thrown wide open, and +a strange figure stood on the sill—a Mexican in a<a name="Page_146" id="Page_146"></a> great sombrero, a +flaming red kerchief at his throat, and eyes that gleamed and glistened, +teeth that were like the whitest ivory.</p> + +<p>He stood, with arms crossed, surveying the scene. If lightning had struck +the adobe, Pell could not have been more dazed.</p> + +<p>He released his wife. "What the devil!" he cried. "Who are you?"</p> + +<p>"Hold up your hands!" yelled the bandit, stepping over the threshold. And +Pell's hands went up, like magic, the spurs jangling to the floor.</p> + +<p>There was a noise without, and Uncle Henry was pushed in by a crude, +foul-looking Mexican, then came "Red," Angela, and Hardy, followed by +another Mexican bandit, and several Mexicans.</p> + +<p>"Who is he? What does this mean?" Pell cried out.</p> + +<p>"This is Pancho Lopez!" "Red" Giddings said. Everyone's hands were lifted, +and pistols were held by the Mexicans, ready to go off at the slightest +sign of rebellion.</p> + +<p>"Pancho Lopez?" Pell repeated, frightened almost to the breaking point.</p> + +<p>The bandit, a strange smile upon his lips, and hidden laughter in his eyes, +knew his power. The situation was one in which he reveled. He gazed <a name="Page_147" id="Page_147"></a>around +him, triumphantly. His legs were spread apart, a cigarette drooped +nonchalantly from his lips.</p> + +<p>"Señors, señoras!" he announced, in fascinating broken English, "you are +all my preesoner!"</p><p><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148"></a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<h4>WHEREIN THE BANDIT EXPOUNDS A NEW PHILOSOPHY, AND MAKES MARIONETTES OF THE +AMERICANS</h4> + + +<p>"Put all ze men outside," Lopez ordered. Venustiano and Pedro, his chief +lieutenants, obeyed at once, forcing them to march ahead of them, and +standing guard over them near a great cactus bush a few feet from the +adobe. "Leave ze women with me," the bandit continued. "But first, +Alvarada, you find ze cook. I am 'ongry."</p> + +<p>"<i>Si</i>," answered Alvarada; and after he had made certain that Pedro and +Venustiano could handle the three men, one of whom, after all, was but an +invalid in a wheel chair, he made his way to the kitchen. He knew there +were two other companions who would help in any emergency. They slunk in +the background, cigarettes between their <a name="Page_149" id="Page_149"></a>lips, guns always ready for +action. The house was completely surrounded.</p> + +<p>Lucia and Angela, left alone with Lopez, revealed the deep concern they +felt. They watched the bandit as he pawed through some papers on the table. +With maddening indifference he then lighted another cigarette, and went +over to the door, looking out at the male prisoners. Finally he turned upon +them, looked them over, and remarked:</p> + +<p>"What a pity. Only two women!"</p> + +<p>They shuddered away from his gaze.</p> + +<p>There was a noise from the direction of the kitchen, and Alvarada, with the +miserable little Mexican cook ahead of him, rushed in.</p> + +<p>He was addressing him in Spanish: "<i>Usted si cusinero. Borachi!</i>"</p> + +<p>Lopez gave one glance at the poor specimen who had charge of the kitchen.</p> + +<p>"The cook," he laughed. "He is dronk!" He now addressed him directly: "You +are dronk," he affirmed, and stamped his foot.</p> + +<p>Frightened, the boy cried: "No! No!" Certainly he was under the influence +of the deadly tequila; but when he saw the bandit's face, and realized that +he was in his power, he became suddenly<a name="Page_150" id="Page_150"></a> and miraculously sober. He was +firmly convinced that his last moment on this earth had come. He knew that +a man like Lopez never hesitated to shoot to kill. He realized in the +twinkling of an eye how late it was, how the dinner had been delayed +through his drunkenness; and this visitor would brook no further waiting. +He fully expected to be shot against the door. Therefore, to save time, he +slunk to the entrance of the kitchen, placed himself against the jamb, +crossed himself, muttered a rapid, incoherent prayer in Spanish, put his +hands behind his back, closed his eyes and waited for the fatal shot that +would send him straight to hell.</p> + +<p>But nothing happened. Lopez looked at the cook, and said casually to Pedro:</p> + +<p>"Not till after dinner," and puffed his cigarette.</p> + +<p>"<i>Despues de la comida</i>," said Pedro.</p> + +<p>"I will make for you!" cried the wretched cook, opening his eyes, and so +relieved to be still alive that he could scarcely articulate.</p> + +<p>"<i>Pronto</i>," ordered Lopez.</p> + +<p>"<i>Si, Madre di Dios!</i>" cried the cook; and fled to his kitchen, tumbling +over himself in his eagerness to get a meal for the bandit.</p> + +<p>There was a pause. What would Lopez do <a name="Page_151" id="Page_151"></a>next? Kill them all? In Spanish he +began, turning to Lucia:</p> + +<p>"<i>Santa Maria</i>—You come here."</p> + +<p>Angela stepped forward.</p> + +<p>"You mean me?" she asked, sweetly.</p> + +<p>"No!" came the gruff voice of Lopez. "You!" pointing to the frightened +Lucia.</p> + +<p>"Why do you want me?" she asked, moving slightly toward him.</p> + +<p>"I would look at you," the bandit replied. He was appraising her already. +"Turn around." She obeyed, like an automaton, "'Ow old are you?"</p> + +<p>She would not lie. "Twenty-four," she answered.</p> + +<p>"Ees pretty old," laughed Lopez. "Let me see your teeth."</p> + +<p>"My teeth!" echoed Lucia. Did he take her for a horse?</p> + +<p>Lopez merely nodded; and, with all the self-control she could bring to her +aid, she opened her mouth and showed her wonderful teeth.</p> + +<p>"<i>Si</i>," remarked Lopez, evidently pleased at the sight. "An' now, 'ow much +weigh?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know exactly," Lucia said.</p> + +<p>"What's your name?" the bandit went on.</p> + +<p>"Lucia." <a name="Page_152" id="Page_152"></a>"Lucia!" he rolled the name over on his tongue, and smiled. +"Lucia!" he repeated. "Ees nice name." Then, "Come 'ere. Come 'ere!" He did +not wait for her to move this time. He put out his hand and drew her close +to him. "I would see more of you," he told her. And, to her amazement and +horror, he lifted her skirt delicately, almost tenderly. Her womanhood +revolted at his action. This barbarian! She slapped his hand. But Lopez +paid no more attention to the blow than if a child had struck him. "Not +bad," he went on, indifferently, referring to her well-turned ankle. "'Ow +you like to go wiz me to Mexico? Well?" when she did not answer. "You 'eard +what I said."</p> + +<p>That she should be insulted thus! "But—oh, I couldn't do that!" she cried +out, in terror.</p> + +<p>"Why not?" Lopez demanded.</p> + +<p>"I'm—married."</p> + +<p>"Well, we will not take ze 'usband! Just you an' me. We go to ze +bull-fight. I rob ze jewelry store for you. We get plenty dronk." She +shuddered. "Sure! I show you 'ell of a good time. Well, 'ow you say?" He +glared at her, almost winked, smiled, and let a ring of smoke curl upward.</p> + +<p>Lucia turned away, ashamed, mortified. "I never heard of such a thing!" she +cried. <a name="Page_153" id="Page_153"></a>Lopez laughed. "Deedn't nobody ever offer you good time before?"</p> + +<p>"Not like this." Lucia thought if he didn't stop soon, she would shriek.</p> + +<p>"No? You 'ave been married all your life wiz one man?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she told him.</p> + +<p>"My! what a rotten life you 'ave led!" the bandit commiserated her. "But +ees not too late. I shall steel save you. But you shall not sank me. Shall +not be so damn bad for me, too!"</p> + +<p>Definite terror seized Lucia now. She knew by his tone, by his every +gesture, that he was not fooling. She had heard, had read, of men like this +Lopez. They were thick along the border. He meant business. Morgan had not +exaggerated the danger of coming down here.</p> + +<p>"But you wouldn't do that," she cried out.</p> + +<p>"Why not?" Lopez said.</p> + +<p>"It's—it's wrong!"</p> + +<p>The bandit smiled his winning smile. "Whose beeziness what we do if we like +for do him?"</p> + +<p>"Please don't take me with you!" Lucia appealed. Why had Morgan Pell ever +brought her to this border line? She might have known better <a name="Page_154" id="Page_154"></a>than to come. +It was no place for a young and attractive woman.</p> + +<p>"You don't wish to go?" Lopez questioned, hardly believing that any pretty +woman could resist his charms.</p> + +<p>"No," cried Lucia.</p> + +<p>"You mean you wish to stay married wiz one man?"</p> + +<p>"Ye-es," Lucia faltered.</p> + +<p>"Never no life? Never no fun? Ha! If you was old, fat—zen, perhaps. But +young, beautiful! For why was you born if you no wish to leeve?"</p> + +<p>"But I do wish to live!" Lucia cried in desperation; and her hands went out +in an attitude of supplication.</p> + +<p>Lopez appraised her once more. "But when I come along an' show you 'ow you +raise 'ell and say no. Ees great honor to be took by Pancho Lopez into +Mexico. Like 'ow you say, ze decoration for ze chest," and he indicated the +spot on his coat where a war medal might be placed.</p> + +<p>Just then, to Lucia's relief, the cook came in, bearing a tray laden with +chile con carne, bread and butter, and sugar, and placed it on the table. +His fright was still evident. His hands trembled, his legs shook.</p><p><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155"></a></p> + +<p>"Ah! Ze food!" Pancho cried. "Good! Put zem zere!" he ordered; and the cook +placed the tray closer to him. Then he turned to Lucia Pell. "You shall +wait on me," he told her, as though he were conferring the greatest honor +upon her.</p> + +<p>Angela came close to him, eager again to please him. He merely pushed her +to one side, and had eyes only for Lucia. "You!" he said, looking her +straight in the face. He sat down, and scanned the tray, while the cook +stood in terror, not daring to leave the room, but wishing to God this +moment were over. Had he forgotten anything?</p> + +<p>"I do not see ze coffee," Pancho said at last.</p> + +<p>"I get for you!" the cook screamed in a shrill voice, and rushed for the +kitchen.</p> + +<p>"<i>Pronto</i>," Lopez said. Then, to Lucia, "Ze bread." She leaned over to get +a piece for him. He watched her carefully. "Your hand is shake. For why? +You 'fraid from me, perhaps?"</p> + +<p>She admitted that she was afraid—a little.</p> + +<p>"And why?" he inquired.</p> + +<p>"Because I've heard that you kill people," she bravely told him.</p> + +<p>"Oh, but that isn't so!" Angela broke in, fearful that the mere mention of +killing would bring about a murder then and there. "I'm sure it isn't!"<a name="Page_156" id="Page_156"></a> +Nothing must be said to raise the thought in Pancho's mind.</p> + +<p>"Why are you so sure?" Lopez demanded.</p> + +<p>"It couldn't be! It couldn't be!" Angela declared. "Anyone so romantic as +you, so—" And she tried to look her pleasantest. He must be placated, this +wretched man.</p> + +<p>"You are wrong," Lopez informed her, and also the entire room, "I do kill." +Lucia, who had taken a seat near him, now drew back in alarm. He was quick +to see her action.</p> + +<p>"You need not be afraid," he heartened her. "I shall not 'urt you. That is, +not yet. The chile—" she dished some out for him, hurriedly. "So! You are +afraid of me because I kill people, eh?" He leaned back, and his lids +contracted until his eyes looked wicked and sinister. The spangles on his +sleeves trembled like leaves.</p> + +<p>"A little," Lucia managed to say.</p> + +<p>"You sink it wrong to kill?" Pancho wanted to know, gulping down a great +mouthful of chile, and smattering a huge slice of bread with butter. He ate +with his knife, like a glutton. He smacked his lips, and wiped them on the +sleeve of his coat, where the brass buttons gleamed picturesquely.</p><p><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157"></a></p> + +<p>"You talk of killing in such a matter-of-fact way," Lucia observed.</p> + +<p>"An' why not?" Lopez asked.</p> + +<p>The cook brought in the coffee-pot and put it on the table.</p> + +<p>"Does life mean as little to you as that?" Lucia asked another question. +This man was an enigma. He was bad through and through. They were as +helpless as cattle in his hands.</p> + +<p>"Life?" Lopez smiled. "To be 'ere—zat is life. Not to be 'ere—" he gulped +down some steaming coffee—"zat is death. Life is a leetle thing—unless it +is one's own." He put the big cup down and put in four spoonfuls of sugar, +stirred it diligently, and looked around him, the wonder of a child in his +face.</p> + +<p>"You do kill your prisoners, then?" Lucia brought out.</p> + +<p>"Sure!" laughed Pancho.</p> + +<p>Could she have heard aright? "You do?" she cried, and her cheeks took on an +ashen hue.</p> + +<p>"<i>Ciertamente!</i>" the bandit stated, as though they were talking of the +weather. "You capture ze preesoner. You 'ave no jail to put 'im in. You +pack him around wiz you. If you let 'im go, 'e come back to fight you +again. So you kill him. Eet is very simple."</p><p><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158"></a></p> + +<p>"But it seems so cold-blooded!" Lucia said.</p> + +<p>"Ah! to you, perhaps! It is ze difference between zose who live in safety +and zose who live in danger. In safety you 'ave ze bill to pay. You pay it +and you forget it. In danger you 'ave enemy to kill. You kill 'im an' you +forget 'im. <i>Save?</i>" And another heaping knifeful of the chile con carne +went into his mouth.</p> + +<p>"It's too horrible!" said Lucia; and she turned away.</p> + +<p>"Ees life too horrible?" Pancho wanted to know.</p> + +<p>"I never knew life was like that!" she said.</p> + +<p>"Because you 'ave never really lived," the bandit explained. "Because you +'ave been always protect by ozzers. I kill only men. And only evil men. And +when I kill evil man, it make me very 'appy. For I 'ave did a good deed." +His simple philosophy pleased him.</p> + +<p>"But who decides whether a man is good or evil'"</p> + +<p>"I do!" answered Lopez, quick as a flash, and wondering how she could have +asked so stupid a question.</p> + +<p>"Oh, do let me pour some more coffee for you!" Angela begged.</p> + +<p>"If you wish," Lopez said, indifferently. It <a name="Page_159" id="Page_159"></a>mattered little to him now +who waited upon him. His inner man had been partially satisfied. He leaned +back in his chair, at peace with all the world. One spurred and booted foot +was on the table.</p> + +<p>"Oh, thank you!" Angela was all smiles. She was making headway with this +evil man. "Thank you so much," she followed up, and, standing sweetly at +his left, she poured the brown stuff into his cup. "Lovely weather, isn't +it?" she remarked. The cook took the pot from her, and went back to the +kitchen with it.</p> + +<p>"<i>Si</i>," Lopez said. "Sit down. Sit down." Angela thought of course he was +speaking to her, and being kind to her because of her girlish attentions. +So she promptly seated herself. "No, not you!" Pancho said roughly, putting +six spoons of sugar in this second cup. "You, I mean," indicating Lucia +once more. Angela pouted, and turned her back on this bad, bad man. Pancho +never even noticed her. The more opulent beauty of Lucia appealed to the +sensuous in him. "You," he repeated. "Tell me, señora, 'ave you never been +to a free country?"</p> + +<p>Lucia was surprised at his question.</p> + +<p>"A free country?" she said.</p> + +<p>"Yes; like Mexico, for instance."</p><p><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160"></a></p> + +<p>"Don't you call the United States a free country?" Lucia asked him.</p> + +<p>He almost roared his head off. "The United—Bah! Ees the most unfree +country what is. Every man, every woman, is slave—slave to law, slave to +custom, slave to everysing. You get up such time; eat such time," his hands +went out in Latin frenzy. "Every day you work such time, every night go to +bed such time. And, <i>Madre di Dios</i>, every week you take bath such time!" +This was, to him, the ultimate joke. "An' you call it a free country! Ees +only one free country. Ees one in which man does as she damn please. Like +Mexico!" he ended.</p> + +<p>The women were astounded. They had always thought of Mexico as a land of +rough-and-tumble, comic-opera revolutions; a place where one must forever +be on the lookout for trouble; where robbers were rife and the days were +nothing but a chain of abominations. A sunny, beautiful country, maybe; but +no place for a God-fearing American citizen to settle. Why, they would as +soon commit murder in Mexico as go to market.</p> + +<p>"Haven't you any laws in Mexico?" Lucia inquired.</p> + +<p>"We 'ave—ze best," Lopez was swift to reply.</p><p><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161"></a></p> + +<p>"But you just said—" Angela started to remind him, and took a little stool +and moved close to him, seating herself upon it. She did not want him to +forget her girlish sweetness. Lopez paid no heed to her.</p> + +<p>"They are ze best because each man makes them for 'imself. Not like New +York, where everybody tell you what you cannot do until zere is nozzing +left what you want to do."</p> + +<p>Angela piped up: "You've been to New York?"</p> + +<p>"When I was agent for Madero—yes. I live at ze big hotel. I 'ave planty +money. Ees no damn prohibition. I get dronk. I 'ave 'ell of a time. Sure! I +see 'im all! New York!" he smiled in recollection.</p> + +<p>"And you didn't like it?" Angela persisted, moving her little stool even +closer to him.</p> + +<p>"Like it? It makes me seeck! Even beautiful woman what I see 'ave 'osband +what is afraid for 'er. Each time I get dronk comes big policeman which 'it +me on ze 'ead." He smiled at the thought, "When I go to ze teatro, ees +someone which 'ide under—ze bed. Not even can I step on ze grass +because—New York! It crush ze 'eart!" He put both hands over his chest, +and looked up at the ceiling.</p><p><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162"></a></p> + +<p>"Yes!" exclaimed Angela, her stool very close to him now.</p> + +<p>"Ees a prison for ze soul!" Lopez affirmed. "A stupid, seely place, your +New York!"</p> + +<p>"Yes!" Angela agreed again.</p> + +<p>"For me New York can go to 'ell just as soon as she damn please!" the +bandit let out.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr. Robber!" Angela cried.</p> + +<p>"But Mexico! How different!" Lopez said, paying no more attention to Angela +than he would to a fly.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure it is!" the girl said.</p> + +<p>To Lucia, Lopez went on: "You shall see! Ze beautiful woman 'ave 'osband. +But shall I not 'ave beautiful woman?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr. Bandit!" Angela put in once more.</p> + +<p>"When we get dronk, ees not policeman which will 'it us on ze 'ead, but us +which will 'it policeman on ze 'ead." Angela chuckled at this. "In ze +teatro shall not be someone which 'ide under ze bed, but in it! You shall +see! In Mexico ze heart leap! Ze soul she is free! You can do what you +want—zat is, onless someone shoot you. Leesten, señora." He leaned close +to Lucia, who had not ventured to move, "Did you ever know the joy of +fierce leeving? Did you?"</p><p><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163"></a></p> + +<p>But she did not reply. Instead, it was the impetuous Angela who answered +him:</p> + +<p>"Yes. I mean, no!"</p> + +<p>Lopez turned and scowled at her. "I was not spik to you," he said.</p> + +<p>"You weren't!" Angela looked her surprise.</p> + +<p>"<i>Ciertamente</i> no!" the bandit said.</p> + +<p>Angela was hurt. "But you're not cross with me, are you?" she almost wept.</p> + +<p>"No! I am not cross wiz you! Eez zat you annoy me!" And as though she were +a doll, he pushed her from him, his big hand almost blotting out her pretty +little face. The stool and Angela fell to the floor. She was furious. The +devil in her was roused. Chagrined, she picked herself up. Her dainty plaid +frock was covered with dust. She brushed it off as best she could, and +cried:</p> + +<p>"How dare you push my face, you bad man!"</p> + +<p>"You should keep your face to home," Lopez answered, not turning a hair. He +hadn't meant to be cruel. The incident was nothing to him. When anyone was +in his way, he always got the obstacle out of it. He addressed the silent +Lucia, who was horrified at the treatment accorded the innocent Angela. +"Now that we have all finished eating," he said, delighting in the sarcasm, +since no one else <a name="Page_164" id="Page_164"></a>had had a bite, "we will get down to business." He +shoved the tray aside, and the cook began instantly to clean things up. +"Pedro!" Lopez called, taking out a huge ivory toothpick which he +shamelessly used.</p> + +<p>Instantly Pedro was at the door. "<i>Si!</i>" he said.</p> + +<p>Lopez still spoke to Lucia: "We shall have big time togezzer—at least for +a leetle while." Then he motioned to Pedro; and his men brought in the male +prisoners. "You will not worry 'bout being married, once you come wiz me."</p> + +<p>Morgan Pell heard this last remark.</p> + +<p>"Look here," he said, "that's my wife you're talking to!" Rage was in his +face. He didn't care whether he was this man's prisoner or not. There +should be no insults hurled at Lucia—that old, primitive feeling for his +woman was roused.</p> + +<p>"So!" was all Lopez said, turning on Pell, and nodding his head. "Ees nice +wife—I like her. You do not mind, do you?" His hand touched Lucia's arm. +"Ees all right. I shall ask no question. You shall answer what I ask. And +as is my custom, anybody what does not tell ze truth shall be quite +suddenly—" he paused just the portion of a second—"shot."</p> + +<p>Uncle Henry had rolled in with the rest. At<a name="Page_165" id="Page_165"></a> this last word his chair +reared up like a frightened steed. "Shot!" he cried.</p> + +<p>"<i>Si</i>," answered Lopez, calmly.</p> + +<p>"You mean it?" Uncle Henry asked, unbelief in his tone.</p> + +<p>The bandit glared at him.</p> + +<p>"Should I waste my time listening to sings which are not true?"</p> + +<p>"Thank Gawd, I ain't got nothin' to lie about!" was Uncle Henry's relieved +thought, expressed aloud.</p> + +<p>"H'm!" Lopez murmured. "You have given me a idea." He rubbed his hands +together, and then pushed his big sombrero a little back on his forehead. +"Better as my own. I shall use it."</p> + +<p>Uncle Henry wondered what he had suggested. "What's that?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Lopez took on the voice of an orator, or a man in court making an important +announcement. "If anyone 'ere shall tell me a lie, zen you shall all be—" +he paused dramatically once more—"shot." The final word rang out like a +shot itself.</p> + +<p>A movement of despair ran through the group.</p> + +<p>"Geemoneddy!" Uncle Henry broke the tension.</p> + +<p>Lopez turned to Lucia. "All bot you," he graciously informed her. "I 'ave +ozzer plans for <a name="Page_166" id="Page_166"></a>you!" Her hair enraptured him—her youth and loveliness.</p> + +<p>The relief she felt at the first part of the sentence was quickly killed as +the sinister meaning of the latter part rushed into her brain.</p> + +<p>"Other plans!" she cried.</p> + +<p>"<i>Si.</i>" He was unmoved by her apprehension. He walked to the very center of +the room, and looked about him, studying all their faces.</p> + +<p>It was as if he were a central pivot and their destinies revolved around +him. They had no idea what he would say next, and they hung on his words.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167"></a></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<h4>WHEREIN UNCLE HENRY CHATTERS SOME MORE, THERE IS AN AUCTION, AND THINGS +LOOK BLACK INDEED</h4> + + +<p>"And now for business," Lopez said. "And remember zat he what tells a lie +shall be right away shotted." In his excitement he lost the little English +he had.</p> + +<p>"I only hope <i>he</i> tells one!" Uncle Henry couldn't help saying, pointing to +Hardy.</p> + +<p>"You wish him to be shot?" the bandit wanted to know.</p> + +<p>"Absolutely!" Uncle Henry was quick to answer.</p> + +<p>Angela was horrified. "You want him to kill my dad?"</p> + +<p>"I should enjoy it tremendous," Uncle Henry kept right on, and all but +smacked his thin old lips.</p> + +<p>Lopez was interested. "Why," he said slowly, <a name="Page_168" id="Page_168"></a>wishing to get at the bottom +of things, "do you wish him to be shotted so tremendous?"</p> + +<p>Uncle Henry had no hesitation in answering: "Because he come to skin us out +of this place, gol darn him!" And then, as if to save his skin, he pushed +his chair far into the alcove, and, from this vantage point, watched to see +what Hardy would do and say. He was aware that he had gotten him in a +devilish stew. It served him right. He was a robber, a thief, and he didn't +care what became of him. If Lopez took him out and had him shot at once he +wouldn't have felt a qualm.</p> + +<p>The bandit weighed what Smith had said; then he spoke directly to Hardy. +"Zis is so? Zis is true?"</p> + +<p>"No." The monosyllable was more emphatic than any long explanation could +have been. A scowl on his brow, Hardy came close to Lopez, fearlessly. "I +came to foreclose a mortgage I hold on this place. That is all."</p> + +<p>But Uncle Henry was not going to see him get away with that. "Tell him why +you want this ranch so bad!" he yelled. "I dare you!"</p> + +<p>Pell now stepped forward. Their predicament was bad enough as it was, +without having this old <a name="Page_169" id="Page_169"></a>imbecile make it worse. "Keep still, you fool! Do +you want to get us into more trouble?"</p> + +<p>"I certainly do," cried Uncle Henry, "an', gol darn it, I'm a-goin' to! Rob +me of ten thousand dollars, will you?"</p> + +<p>Lopez was listening with both ears; and a glint came into his eyes, "Zat is +true?" he inquired, interested anew. "He has rob you of ten sousand +dollars? Eh—heh—a good beeg sum!"</p> + +<p>"Ask him!" Uncle Henry said. "An' I only hope to thunder he tells a lie!" +His voice went up on a high key.</p> + +<p>The bandit looked keenly at Morgan Pell. "Did you?" There was no reply. +"You hear me—you will answer—at once!"</p> + +<p>"No." Morgan Pell shot out the word, and clenched his fists. The situation +was becoming hot. This old fellow would have them all dead in a few moments +if he didn't keep his mouth shut.</p> + +<p>A look of triumph came into Uncle Henry's eyes. "There's your big chance!" +he shouted to Lopez. "Shoot him quick!"</p> + +<p>But Pell said calmly: "I paid twenty thousand dollars for an option on the +place."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but you didn't give me the money!" Uncle Henry insisted.</p><p><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170"></a></p> + +<p>"I was going to," the other replied, not even casting a glance over his +shoulder.</p> + +<p>Old man Smith turned to Lopez. "Oh! You didn't shoot quick enough! I got it +now! Ask him why he wants the place! Maybe he'll tell another one!" And he +tittered with glee.</p> + +<p>Lopez put the question to Pell.</p> + +<p>"I—I—" the latter stammered; but could get no farther.</p> + +<p>Uncle Henry was gleeful now. "Get ready!" he yelled to Lopez. "He's going +to do it! Keep your hand on your gun!"</p> + +<p>"I thought," Pell brought out reluctantly, "I thought there might be—oil +on it."</p> + +<p>Lopez was dumbfounded. This was far more interesting than even he had +calculated.</p> + +<p>"Oil?" he said.</p> + +<p>Pell looked down. "But I think, under the circumstances, I shall not take +up my option." The paper was in his hand, and Lopez, seeing it, reached as +if to take it, when Pell handed the document to him. "In which case," Pell +informed the bandit, "the place would belong to him," shrugging a shoulder +toward Uncle Henry.</p> + +<p>"What's that?" the latter asked.</p><p><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171"></a></p> + +<p>"—making him a very rich man indeed," Pell added, significantly.</p> + +<p>Aghast at the turn affairs had taken, Uncle Henry could scarcely speak. +"Well, for the love o' Mike!" he managed to say.</p> + +<p>The bandit now turned full upon Uncle Henry, who was still concealed in the +shadow of the alcove. "Ah! so you would have all ze money!"</p> + +<p>"No, I wouldn't!" Uncle Henry protested. "I—" He quickly put his hand to +his mouth, stopping it like a child caught in a lie. "I mean—yes, I +wouldn't! Only we ain't found the oil yet. And personally, I don't believe +there's any here in the first place!" Realizing what he had said, he caught +himself again. "I mean, it may be here, but—Don't shoot yet! I'll get it +in a minute!" he begged. He was agitated to the breaking point.</p> + +<p>Hardy stepped forward, "Wait. I've a suggestion to offer," he said.</p> + +<p>"Yes?" Lopez uttered the word as though he had grave doubts.</p> + +<p>"You're after money," the tall, lank neighbor said. "I'll tell you how we +can make some—make a lot."</p> + +<p>"Well?" said Lopez, still far from convinced, and taking things easily.</p><p><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172"></a></p> + +<p>Hardy spoke more rapidly. "If the mortgage I hold on this property isn't +paid by eight o'clock to-night, it becomes mine. Keep that paper here until +eight o'clock, and I'll give you ten thousand dollars!" He watched the +effect of his words on the Mexican.</p> + +<p>Pell spoke before the bandit. "Why, damn you—" he began, to Hardy.</p> + +<p>But the latter paid no attention to his insult. He faced Lopez, as though +he were the only person in the room. "What do you say, is it a go?"</p> + +<p>"Wait a minute!" Pell cried.</p> + +<p>Lopez faced him. "Yes?" And puffed his cigarette.</p> + +<p>Pell addressed both the bandit and Jasper Hardy. "I'll make a better offer. +Keep <i>him</i> here until eight o'clock, and I'll give you twenty thousand +dollars!"</p> + +<p>Lopez was considering, "H'm," he murmured, and stroked his chin.</p> + +<p>Uncle Henry saw a mess ahead. He steered right into the group, crying, +"Wait a minute. I got a better idea yet!"</p> + +<p>"You?" Lopez said, as he might have addressed a moron.</p><p><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173"></a></p> + +<p>"Yes, this place don't belong to neither of 'em yet!"</p> + +<p>"But who does it belong to?" the Mexican wanted to know.</p> + +<p>"My nevyer," the invalid said.</p> + +<p>"And which is 'e?"</p> + +<p>"He's down in the shed—fixin'," the old man informed him.</p> + +<p>Lopez turned to Pedro. "Venustiano shall find him. Before he make +trouble—you," turning to "Red," "shall show 'im where." Pedro had raised +his revolver; and one look at it was enough for "Red." These bandits meant +what they said; more, they meant every gesture they made.</p> + +<p>"It's all right," the foreman said. "He ain't got anything to lose anyhow. +I'll show you where he is," and, followed by the sinister Venustiano, he +went out.</p> + +<p>Uncle Henry moved his chair close to Lopez. "Now listen, robber—I mean, +bandit. You keep both these fellers here and lend us ten thousand dollars, +and we'll give you a million!"</p> + +<p>"A million!" said Lopez, his eyes big.</p> + +<p>"The first million we make out of the oil that's here!" "Uncle Henry +proposed. And, serious as <a name="Page_174" id="Page_174"></a>things were getting to be, a smile went around +the group.</p> + +<p>"I should lend you ten sousand dollar?" the bandit asked.</p> + +<p>"Absolutely! Will you?" Uncle Henry had the temerity to say.</p> + +<p>"I do not lend," was the hard response. "I take." And he turned away.</p> + +<p>"But if you'll—" the old man pleaded.</p> + +<p>"Your proposition not interests me," Lopez said. Uncle Henry wheeled over +to the staircase. The bandit turned to Pell. "You offer me twenty sousand? +Zat is so?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Right," Pell replied.</p> + +<p>Lopez smiled sardonically, "Twenty sousand—for what is worth millions?"</p> + +<p>"But I don't know that there's oil here," Pell argued.</p> + +<p>Lopez laughed. "No?" Then, to Hardy, "You? You don't know, eizer, I +s'pose?"</p> + +<p>"I thought there might be—that's all."</p> + +<p>The bandit gave a hearty laugh. "Oh!" he exclaimed, almost consumed with +mirth. "I see I do business wiz business men—wise business men. <i>Bueno</i>! +Now we three business men togezzer, eh? Suppose I shall show you where ze +oil is.<a name="Page_175" id="Page_175"></a> What zen?" He looked around the room, as if he thought everybody +should be interested; and indeed everyone was. Little gasps came from Hardy +and Pell, and Uncle Henry wiggled his chair up closer.</p> + +<p>"Show us where she is?" Hardy asked, breathless.</p> + +<p>"<i>Si</i>," Lopez answered.</p> + +<p>"There <i>is</i> oil here?" Pell asked excitedly.</p> + +<p>Another cigarette went into the bandit's mouth. "Should I waste time +talking of what ain't?" he drily said.</p> + +<p>Hardy was still skeptical. "You know there's oil on this ranch?"</p> + +<p>"I 'ave know so for a long time."</p> + +<p>"On the level?" said Pell, eagerly.</p> + +<p>"'Way down below," laughed Lopez, delighted at his ability to pun in +English, and making a motion with one hand toward the nether regions.</p> + +<p>"You mean it?" Pell continued.</p> + +<p>A dark scowl came over the face of Lopez. "Should you doubt my word?" he +inquired.</p> + +<p>"Certainly not," Pell was quick to satisfy him. "Only why didn't you say so +before?"</p> + +<p>"Oil not interests me," the bandit explained.</p><p><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176"></a></p> + +<p>"But since to you gentlemen it seem so excitable—I 'ave it."</p> + +<p>"Yes?" from Hardy.</p> + +<p>"Ze little paper. You both want it. <i>Bueno!</i> You shall both 'ave ze chance. +We will, 'ow you say, 'old ze little hauction."</p> + +<p>"Auction?" Pell repeated.</p> + +<p>"'E who bids ze 'ighest," Lopez elucidated, "shall 'ave ze little paper and +shall come wiz me while I show 'im where ze oil she is 'iding." He flicked +the ashes of his cigarette upon the floor, and sat on the corner of the +table, one foot dangling in the air.</p> + +<p>"Gad!" Pell let out. His hands went together, his jaw set. Things were +coming out beautifully.</p> + +<p>Lopez went on: "While 'e who does not bid ze 'ighest shall stay 'ere wiz +Pedro until eight o'clock to-night."</p> + +<p>Hardy was delighted. "You mean the highest bidder will not only get the +place but that you'll show him where the oil is besides?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Si.</i> Is it so agree?"</p> + +<p>"I'm for that," Pell said.</p> + +<p>"But I—" Hardy began.</p> + +<p>"I bid one hundred thousand dollars," Pell quickly cried.</p><p><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177"></a></p> + +<p>"I'll take it to the courts," Hardy contended.</p> + +<p>"Take what to the courts?" Pell wanted to know.</p> + +<p>"I was detained by force," Hardy said.</p> + +<p>"As long as I get there by eight, what difference does that make?" Pell +asked.</p> + +<p>But Lopez broke in: "One hundred sousand I am offer!" They mustn't +shillyshally this way. He wanted to keep things going.</p> + +<p>"I'll make it one hundred and one!" Hardy cried.</p> + +<p>Without a moment's hesitation, Pell jerked it up to a hundred and ten.</p> + +<p>"A hundred and eleven!" Hardy pushed ahead.</p> + +<p>"A hundred and twenty-five!" Pell yelled. "And what do you know about +that?"</p> + +<p>Hardy was by no means finished. "A hundred and thirty!" he made it.</p> + +<p>Uncle Henry couldn't stand it. While they raised each other's bids, he shot +in between them and managed to say above the din, "And me—gettin' skinned +not only out of my ten thousand, but a million dollars besides!"</p> + +<p>"A hundred and fifty!" Pell was saying.</p> + +<p>"A hundred and fifty-one!" the cautious Hardy added.</p> + +<p>The face of Lopez was a study; but they were so excited that they did not +look at him. Angela <a name="Page_178" id="Page_178"></a>rushed to her father and clasped his arm when she +heard his last raise. "That's right, father. Don't let him get it!"</p> + +<p>"Don't worry," he reassured her, and patted her little hand, so warm on his +arm. He turned to Pell. "You city fellers needn't think you can come down +here and put it all over us."</p> + +<p>"Nevertheless," said Morgan Pell, "I'll just bid a hundred and seventy-five +thousand."</p> + +<p>"Then I'll make it a hundred and eighty!" his antagonist stated.</p> + +<p>Quick as a flash, "A hundred and ninety," Pell said.</p> + +<p>"Two hundred, by darn!" yelled Hardy, furious now.</p> + +<p>"Two hundred and—" Pell began; when Lopez, to their amazement, rapped on +the table with his gun, as though he were an auctioneer and this his gavel, +"Señors!" he shouted. "It is enough!"</p> + +<p>Everyone was dumbfounded, "Enough?" Hardy inquired, unbelieving.</p> + +<p>"Too much!" Lopez explained.</p> + +<p>"What's the idea?" Pell, shrewder than before, wanted to know. His brow +contracted. So there was a fly in the ointment, after all!</p><p><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179"></a></p> + +<p>"Ze idea, my friend, is zis," Lopez calmly stated. "I am not interest in +pieces of paper. I do not accep' checks. Also I am no damn fool! You sink I +sink you bring back two 'ondred sousand dollar? Two 'ondred sousand +soldier, mebbe! But two 'ondred sousand dollar! Pah!" and he made a gesture +of disgust, and crushed the paper in his hand and let it fall on the floor +under the table.</p> + +<p>"Then what's the idea of this auction in the first place?" Pell asked, mad +through and through that they had been tricked by this Mexican fool.</p> + +<p>Lopez leaned back on the table. "To find out if you gentlemen was rich +enough to make it worth my w'ile to take you wiz me and 'old you for +ransom." His eyes half closed. He was enjoying their discomfiture. There +was nothing he liked more than to spring a surprise like this.</p> + +<p>Pell and Hardy looked at each other, real terror in their faces now.</p> + +<p>"Ransom!" the former cried.</p> + +<p>"It is quite to be seen zat you are," the bandit grinned. "Zis, if I may +speak so, 'as been a lucky day for me!"</p> + +<p>Pell turned to both Hardy and Lopez, and addressed them: "Bluffing, were +you?"</p> + +<p>Lopez was quick to retort: "And was you <a name="Page_180" id="Page_180"></a>bluffing when you bidded ze two +'ondred sousand dollars?"</p> + +<p>Hardy was agitated. "I'm afraid we were a bit hasty," he tried to explain +things away.</p> + +<p>This tickled Uncle Henry's bump of humor. He chuckled, and cried, "Ho, ho! +Serves you both gol darn good and right!" He seemed to go into a spasm of +laughter.</p> + +<p>Pell's chief concern now was to get out of the mess—to get away; to have +everything settled. Lopez could probably be dealt with, man to man.</p> + +<p>"Look here," he suggested, in a direct attack, "can't we settle things some +way?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," the bandit replied. "From my headquarters in Chihuahua I will give +you pen, ink, messenger-boy—everysing!"</p> + +<p>"But I—" Pell started to say.</p> + +<p>But Lopez broke in: "You will please listen more and speak less. I 'ave +decide. You I shall 'old for ransom. And," turning to Hardy, "you; and +you," pointing to Uncle Henry, "you who 'ave nossing, I shall leave +be'ind."</p> + +<p>Pell and Hardy felt that the game was over.</p> + +<p>Uncle Henry, on the contrary, was jubilant. "Gee!" he sang out, "and I get +the oil, after all!"</p><p><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181"></a></p> + +<p>No one heeded him. Things were too serious still.</p> + +<p>"You wouldn't do this?" Hardy asked of Lopez.</p> + +<p>"No?" the bandit asked.</p> + +<p>Hardy took Angela in his arms. "But what about her—my daughter? You +wouldn't take her, would you?"</p> + +<p>"Not for a million dollars!" Lopez smiled.</p> + +<p>Angela's pride was hurt, "H'm!" she sniffed.</p> + +<p>Lopez looked around him. He saw Lucia, and extended his hand to her. "And +as for you—" he began.</p> + +<p>Lucia was frightened. What was to be her fate?</p> + +<p>"Yes?" she breathed.</p> + +<p>"Life 'as been unkind to you. Too long 'ave you been marry wiz ze tired +business man. You shall come wiz me to ze land of purple mountains, where I +will love you myself personal."</p> + +<p>This animal! Lucia turned from him in horror. "But I don't want to love!"</p> + +<p>"It is not what you want," a new tone came into Lopez's voice. "It is what +<i>I</i> want. I am ze law, 'ere!"</p> + +<p>"Please!" Lucia pleaded.</p> + +<p>Pell stepped forward. "Look here!" he cried. "There must be some way out of +this!"</p><p><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182"></a></p> + +<p>"Zere is," said Lopez politely. He pointed to the door. "Zat way."</p> + +<p>Angela clung to her father's neck. "Dad!" she cried, seeing that he was +about to be forced to go—perhaps forever. Tears rolled down her pretty +cheeks.</p> + +<p>Pell saw the seriousness of things now, and turned to Hardy in a strange +camaraderie. "I guess we're up against it," he said.</p> + +<p>"Looks that way," the other replied. In their misfortune they were +curiously united.</p> + +<p>Lopez turned to the whole room. "If you are ready?" he said, and snapped +his fingers as a slave-driver might have done. "Pedro!" he called, "kill ze +first one what make trouble," indicating the entire group of prisoners. +Pedro grinned hopefully. "Zey go. <i>Bueno!</i> Zey go—all of zose ozzers. I +shall follow—wiz my woman." He turned to Lucia, who was standing like a +graven image near the table. "Come! We shall be very 'appy togezzer, you +and me!"</p> + +<p>They were about to pass through the door—all of them—when a noise +startled them; and Gilbert, followed by "Red" and Venustiano, appeared.</p><p><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183"></a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<h4>WHEREIN AN OLD FRIENDSHIP COMES TO LIFE, LOPEZ LEARNS A THING OR TWO, AND +FINALLY MAKES A MATCH</h4> + + +<p>"What's coming off?" Gilbert said, looking about him, and not a little +surprised to find a Mexican and his adherents in his adobe.</p> + +<p>Lopez turned and gave him a searching look. A light seemed to come into the +bandit's countenance. It was as if someone had put a lantern behind his +face.</p> + +<p>"You!" he cried, enraptured. "You ze nephew zat owns zis ranch?"</p> + +<p>Gilbert came farther into the room. Everyone now had turned back, stood +stock still, listening to these two.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said young Jones. "I am. What of it?" He didn't understand matters +at all. Absent from the house for a little time, he had been called back to +find this medley of people.</p><p><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184"></a></p> + +<p>Lopez searched his face again. "Tell me you 'ave been in Cañon Diabalo +sometime? 'Ave you?"</p> + +<p>"Of course. What of it?" Gilbert was mystified.</p> + +<p>"You were there one night, three, mebbe four year ago?" Lopez persisted, +hoping there could be no mistake.</p> + +<p>"I don't remember," was the disappointing answer.</p> + +<p>"You remember poor peon was wounded—near bleed to death?"</p> + +<p>"What?" said Gilbert, light beginning to dawn upon him.</p> + +<p>"You do!" shouted Lopez, delighted. "Where was 'e wounded? Quick! You +tell!"</p> + +<p>"Shot through the shoulder," Gilbert answered promptly.</p> + +<p>"It is you! Don't you know me?" He faced him squarely, threw back his +shoulders, and waited, breathless, for his look of recognition.</p> + +<p>Gilbert studied his face. An instant of doubt, and then, "Why, you're +Pancho Lopez!" he said.</p> + +<p>The bandit was overjoyed. "I am! But don't you recognize who is ze Pancho +Lopez what I am? Look close! Ze clothes, no! Ze face!"</p> + +<p>"Good Lord!" was all Gilbert could utter.</p><p><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185"></a></p> + +<p>"Now you know me?"</p> + +<p>"You're the man I found wounded that night!"</p> + +<p>"And whose life you save!" Lopez added.</p> + +<p>"Well, what do you know about that!" young Jones shouted. He was as +surprised and happy as the bandit himself. This man, whom he never thought +to see again in his whole life was standing here, in his own adobe.</p> + +<p>"Now you know me!" Pancho went on. "Ah! my frand! 'Ow glad I am for to see +you some more! Pedro! Venustiano! Ees my friend! Sabbe! Orders like my own! +Serve 'im as you would me!" He went to Gilbert and frankly embraced him in +the Latin fashion. "Eet's 'ell of a good thing I reckernize you!" he +laughed, hugging his old friend close. He could never forget his kindness +that night so many years ago; and to think he had run across his deliverer +now!</p> + +<p>Everyone was relieved. Their troubles would now be ended.</p> + +<p>"And you ain't going to rob him, after all?" Uncle Henry piped up.</p> + +<p>"Rob 'im? Rob my frand?" Lopez repeated.</p> + +<p>"Ain't you?" Uncle Henry cried.</p> + +<p>The bandit looked at him, wonder in his eyes. "No! <i>Ciertamente</i> no!"</p><p><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186"></a></p> + +<p>"Hooray!" the old man yelled, and would have risen in his chair could he +have done so.</p> + +<p>"Say, who the 'ell is that?" said Lopez, addressing himself to Gilbert.</p> + +<p>"He's my uncle," young Jones answered.</p> + +<p>"Uncle?" the bandit said, unbelieving.</p> + +<p>"Uncle Henry," old man Smith wanted it to be straight.</p> + +<p>"He shall go free," Lopez announced.</p> + +<p>Hardy thought this a good omen. They would all be set free, no doubt. He +faced Lopez bravely. "Ah, then it's all right," he said, a sickly smile on +his face.</p> + +<p>"All right?" said Lopez.</p> + +<p>"Yes," Hardy said.</p> + +<p>Lopez considered for a moment, hand on chin, his eyes again two narrow +slits. "Not so fast," he cautioned. "It ees all right for 'im," nodding at +Uncle Henry, "an' all right for 'im," indicating Gilbert; "but for you—" +He let one hand fly out, and a resounding slap on Hardy's eager face was +the result. Then he turned to Pedro. "Take them all out—<i>pronto</i>! 'Ees all +right!' Like 'ell ees all right!"</p> + +<p>Hardy flushed scarlet. His first impulse was to strike back; but how could +he? Those guns <a name="Page_187" id="Page_187"></a>pointed at him from every direction. He was as powerless as +a baby. But his hour would come. This dastardly Mexican bandit should +suffer for that blow.</p> + +<p>Yet like one of a line of sheep he was obliged to follow Pedro out of the +door. It was a humiliating moment. Gilbert and Lopez were left alone.</p> + +<p>"Now we shall visit," the bandit said, and put his arm through Gilbert's. +"Ah! it ees so good to see you, my frand!"</p> + +<p>Gilbert was still mystified. "Yes," he said, "but I don't understand how +you, a peon, became the Pancho Lopez so soon."</p> + +<p>"Ah! it ees so easy!" laughed the bandit.</p> + +<p>"Easy!" Gilbert repeated.</p> + +<p>"<i>Si.</i> My frand"—his hand went to Gilbert's shoulder—"ees great +opportunity, ees revolution, for make speed. When I got well, I find I do +not enjoy my work, which are 'ard. Business? Business, she make me sick! I +say for myself, 'What to do?' Zen, suddenly I sink, 'I shall be soldado!' +Soldier which shall be giv ze 'orse, ze gun, ze woman, and nozzing to do +but shoot a little sometimes! Ees a wonderful life, my frand!" The smoke of +his cigarette curled to the ceiling.</p><p><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188"></a></p> + +<p>"I didn't find it so," young Jones said, and smiled in his dry way.</p> + +<p>"Pah! It's too many damn rules in your army. For us who make revolution, +no! We sleep so late we damn please. We fight some when we feel so. If we +find ze hacienda, we take all what we choose. When we need money, we go to +city and rob ze bank—we 'elp for ourselves food from ze store, shoes, +clothes, candy, ze cigarette, agauriante—" he made as if to drink from an +imaginary glass—"booze! An' if anybody 'ide anysing we cut 'is fingers off +so's 'e tell us. She is one fine life! You like for try? I make you +general! Come!"</p> + +<p>His face was radiant. The recollection of his army life filled him with +joy.</p> + +<p>But Gilbert shook his head. "Not for me, thank you," he smiled.</p> + +<p>Lopez merely shrugged his shoulders. "So! I was afraid!"</p> + +<p>"But how did you get ahead so fast?" young Jones wanted to know. "That's +what sticks me."</p> + +<p>The bandit laughed. "Zat is simple. You see, one day ze lieutenant she are +killed. Soon I become a lieutenant. Nex' day, ze captain. So I am captain, +Byme-bye, ze major—so I became major. Pretty damn soon ze colonel—so I am +<a name="Page_189" id="Page_189"></a>colonel. I kill ze general for myself." As he spoke, he lifted the chair +at the table, and brought it down on the floor with a bang.</p> + +<p>"What!" cried Gilbert, at this description of an opera-bouffe army.</p> + +<p>"But we shall not talk of me," Lopez said. "We shall spik of you. 'Ow you +been since I seen you, what?" He tossed away his cigarette.</p> + +<p>Gilbert offered him another of his own.</p> + +<p>"No, gratias; zat's for peon. Zese from ze swell hotel National an +Torreon—zay are good. I steal zem myself," pulling out his case and +lighting another. He pushed his chair so that he could see young Jones +better. "Well, old frand, how you feel zis long time? Eh?"</p> + +<p>"I?" said Gilbert. He smiled a little, and looked significantly about the +room.</p> + +<p>Lopez caught the look. "So?" he said, sympathy in his tone. "It ees too +bad." He paused, letting the smoke curl over his head again. "Ah! I see her +now! You are ze nephew of Uncle Henry which owns zis rancho which are to be +foreclosed by moggidge." Gilbert nodded. "H'm! Zat shall make her all +different some more! Axplain for me, so I shall know."</p> + +<p>Gilbert replied: "There's not much to tell. I<a name="Page_190" id="Page_190"></a> borrowed ten thousand from +my uncle; ten more from Hardy—the tall man, and our neighbor. He's a loan +shark—you know, in a mortgage. I go to the war. When I come home, cattle +all gone. No money. That's all." He made a gesture as though the world were +tumbling about him.</p> + +<p>"I see," said Lopez. "And wiz ze strange ideas of your country, it makes +you feel bad."</p> + +<p>"Well, it seems like a pretty good chunk of trouble to hand an average +citizen," young Jones said.</p> + +<p>"Trouble?" Lopez let out the word in wrath. "You are no trouble. You only +sink you are."</p> + +<p>"You don't call this trouble? If it isn't then I don't know what trouble +is!"</p> + +<p>"Not really trouble." He came over and put his hand on Gilbert's shoulder. +"Only trouble you are made for yourself because you go by law what are +foolish instead of sense what are wise." He gave him an affectionate pat. +Just then Uncle Henry wheeled himself in, neither inquiring nor caring if +he was wanted or not.</p> + +<p>"Well, I sure told 'em their right names for once, gol darn 'em!" he +chuckled. Lopez glared at him. "Pardon me! My mistake!" the invalid +apologized; and rolled into the alcove. <a name="Page_191" id="Page_191"></a>"So, you sink you have much +trouble," Lopez continued, as though the invalid had not come in to +interrupt them. The clock struck five. He listened to it, and then said, "I +have time to spare—" He went to the window and looked out.</p> + +<p>"But if you've been raiding around here," Uncle Henry said from his +seclusion, "won't the rangers be after you?"</p> + +<p>"I have ze scouts who watch," the bandit said. He turned to Gilbert again. +"Suppose I stop here and prove to you who sink you have trouble, zat really +you have no trouble at all?"</p> + +<p>The young man looked at him incredulously. "You mean you can get me out of +this mess?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Sure! In one half hour," the bandit was convinced.</p> + +<p>"Really?"</p> + +<p>"In one half hour your trouble go poof!" He made a ring of smoke and +watched it fade away. "And you shall be 'appy man. If I do zat, what zen?"</p> + +<p>"If you do that," said the other, "they'll have to tie me down to keep me +from kissing you!"</p> + +<p>"Good!" laughed Lopez. "She is did."</p><p><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192"></a></p> + +<p>There was a moment's pause. Then, "But how are you going to do this +miracle?" Gilbert was anxious to find out.</p> + +<p>"Zat is for you to leave to me. Well, what you say?"</p> + +<p>"I say yes, of course!"</p> + +<p>"<i>Bueno!</i> We begin," said the bandit. He called through the door: "Pedro! +Bring zem all in again."</p> + +<p>Uncle Henry was curious, "What are you going to do?"</p> + +<p>"You shall see," was all Lopez answered.</p> + +<p>Angela was the first to file into the room. Uncle Henry glanced at her. +"What are you going to do about her?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Lopez looked around, "Her?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Her!" repeated Uncle Henry.</p> + +<p>"What 'as her to do wiz it?" the bandit inquired.</p> + +<p>"Why, she wants to marry him," Uncle Henry revealed, pointing to his +nephew. "That's what started the whole jamboree."</p> + +<p>Lopez looked astonished. "So?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Uh—huh!"</p> + +<p>The bandit glanced at Gilbert. "But 'e does not love 'er," he said, nodding +toward Angela.</p> + +<p>"Certainly not!" Gilbert was instantly saying, <a name="Page_193" id="Page_193"></a>and glared at his uncle. +The latter, as usual, plunged straight ahead, as the others now gathered +about the room. "He," meaning "Red," "loves her. <i>He</i>," he nodded toward +his nephew, "loves <i>her</i>," pointing to Lucia Pell. "And she loves him," +nodding back to Gilbert.</p> + +<p>"Shut up! How many times must I tell you to—"</p> + +<p>"But she," went on Uncle Henry, just as if nothing had been said, and +pointing to Lucia, "is married to him," indicating Pell. "Which makes it a +hell of a mess all around!" He leaned back in his chair as if he had done a +good day's work.</p> + +<p>Gilbert could scarcely restrain himself. Again he wanted to lay violent +hands upon him—he wished he could. "Be quiet, won't you?" he breathed.</p> + +<p>"Not me!" Uncle Henry persisted. "I've gotter tell the truth."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but—" Gilbert began.</p> + +<p>"I don't wanter get shot," the old man declared.</p> + +<p>Lopez turned to Gilbert. "Is it true? You love her?" his eyes going to +Lucia.</p> + +<p>How could he tell the truth? "Of course I do not," he affirmed. Then he +went close to his uncle. "What did you do all this again for?"</p><p><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194"></a></p> + +<p>"He says he can fix it," Uncle Henry said. "Let him try. He's done swell so +far. Personally, I got a lot o' confidence in that feller. He's slick, he +is!"</p> + +<p>It was easy to be seen that the bandit was not satisfied with the answer +Gilbert had given him. He had been slyly watching both him and Lucia. Now, +he said, looking at them both: "So!" And old man Smith started to break in +once more; but Lopez went on: "Is it true?"</p> + +<p>"What makes you think so?" Gilbert wanted to know.</p> + +<p>"It is in her eyes—and yours," the Mexican stated. "I shall miss her. She +is very beautiful. However, what is one woman between frands?" He laughed a +bitter laugh. "You shall have her."</p> + +<p>Uncle Henry cried out: "But he can't have her. She's married."</p> + +<p>"Ees too bad," said Lopez, nonchalantly. "But nozzing to get excite about."</p> + +<p>"Nozzing to get excite about!" mimicked Uncle Henry.</p> + +<p>"No. But ees more to be did zan I 'ave sought. But I 'ave promise I shall +make you a 'appy man, my frand," again to Gilbert. "<i>Bueno!</i> I keep <a name="Page_195" id="Page_195"></a>zat +promise. You have gave me your word zat you will not interfere. Is it not +so?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but I—" Gilbert hardly knew what to say.</p> + +<p>"It is for you to keep zat word as I keep mine," Lopez said. Then, to Uncle +Henry he went on, "I shall start wiz you. Now, Pedro!"</p> + +<p>"<i>Si</i>," answered the faithful minion of the bandit, stepping forward.</p> + +<p>"Remember," his master commanded. "Shoot ze first one which interrup'."</p> + +<p>"<i>Si</i>," said Pedro again, and grinned broadly and pleasantly. If there was +one thing he liked, it was the possibility of trouble with prisoners. He +knew how to bring them to terms. He had been doing it for years.</p> + +<p>Lopez got down to business. "Now, look here, Oncle Hennery: my frand 'ave +borrow money which 'e 'ave lost? Is zat true?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," answered Uncle Henry promptly, and happy to have been addressed +so familiarly by the bandit. He felt that his triumph was now complete.</p> + +<p>"'E cannot be happy until 'e pay you back."</p> + +<p>"No, sir," sitting up straight in his chair.</p> + +<p>"I shall give you ten sousand dollar," was the bandit's surprising remark.</p><p><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196"></a></p> + +<p>Uncle Henry thought he could not have heard aright. "Ten thousand—! Yes, +but where are you going to get it?" he inquired, a bit dazed.</p> + +<p>"Do not ask me." He caught sight of "Red." "Ze next is you." He appraised +him rapidly, and then said to Gilbert, "'E is frand for you, no?"</p> + +<p>"He certainly is," answered young Jones promptly. "About the best I ever +had." He wasn't going to see anything happen to the faithful "Red." He'd +have protected him with his own life.</p> + +<p>Lopez liked this, "You love zat girl?" he said to the foreman, meaning, of +course, Angela.</p> + +<p>"What?" the latter cried out.</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't go around advertising the fact," "Red" told Lopez, a bit +mortified that his heart affairs should be thus openly discussed.</p> + +<p>"Ze girl zat spoiled my dinner," the bandit laughed.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" cried Angela, who thought she had done so well.</p> + +<p>"And she love you?" Lopez went on.</p> + +<p>"I don't either!" Angela protested, speaking before "Red" had a chance.</p> + +<p>"Now, Angela!" said "Red," his face the color of his flaming hair.</p><p><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197"></a></p> + +<p>His dream seemed so close. Was it possible that the only girl he ever had +adored was going to see it wrecked?</p> + +<p>Angela weakened a bit at his tone. "I like him," she told the bandit. "But +I don't—love him."</p> + +<p>"Ah! but you do!" Lopez insisted.</p> + +<p>"I do?" said Angela, wide-eyed.</p> + +<p>"I have so decide!" the bandit stated.</p> + +<p>"What?" cried Angela, not knowing what he could be driving at.</p> + +<p>"Also you make love to my frand, Señor Jones."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" cried the frightened girl now.</p> + +<p>"And you have annoyed him in other ways."</p> + +<p>"I have?" she wailed, terrified to the breaking point.</p> + +<p>"Red" intervened. "Listen, Angela—" he began.</p> + +<p>She stamped her little foot, and was peppery at once. "I won't!"</p> + +<p>"You don't love him," "Red" affirmed, for her.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" Angela burst out, all confusion.</p> + +<p>"No more than you loved any of the rest of 'em," "Red" went on.</p> + +<p>"Keep still!" the girl cried. "Keep still! I think you're dreadful!"</p><p><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198"></a></p> + +<p>"It's because they're better looking than me," her slave went right on. +"I'm the one for you to marry, Angy, and you know it!" He had faith in +himself at last—she couldn't stop him now.</p> + +<p>"No!" Angela contradicted.</p> + +<p>"Aw, come on!" poor "Red" begged.</p> + +<p>But she stamped her foot again. "No—no—<i>no</i>!"</p> + +<p>"Say you will!" "Red" pleaded, almost distracted.</p> + +<p>But Angela was adamant. "I won't—I won't listen to you another minute!" +She turned her back on him, blushing to the roots of her hair.</p> + +<p>Lopez had been highly amused at the girl's pique and "Red's" honest +interest in her. He came to his assistance. "We shall be patient. She is +mad. And mad lady sink not wiz ze 'ead, but only wiz ze tongue." He faced +the pouting Angela. "Señorita, leesten to me. 'Ow old are you?"</p> + +<p>"None of your business!" was the instant answer.</p> + +<p>"Twenty-eight? Twenty-nine?" Lopez pressed, smiling.</p> + +<p>"Certainly not! I'm only twenty!" She was swift with the denial.</p> + +<p>"Ah! I sought so," said Lopez, much pleased.</p> + +<p>"What?" Angela said, not understanding him.</p><p><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199"></a></p> + +<p>"In Mexico you would now be married five years—" the bandit explained.</p> + +<p>"What?" screamed Angela.</p> + +<p>"An' have six children."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" The very thought made Angela ill.</p> + +<p>"You are not pretty—none too pretty!" Lopez said.</p> + +<p>The girl was now both hurt and amazed. "What's that?" she cried, all her +feminine anger aroused.</p> + +<p>"You will soon grow fat," Lopez continued, looking her over carefully.</p> + +<p>Angela pulled out her handkerchief and brushed her eyes. "Oh!"</p> + +<p>"Like ze tub!" said Lopez, inexorably, spreading his arms to indicate an +immense diameter.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" was all poor Angela could get out.</p> + +<p>"Also, you 'ave ze bad temper."</p> + +<p>"Oh! Oh!" Sobs now came from her.</p> + +<p>"So, if you do not marry soon, it will be too late."</p> + +<p>"What's that?" she looked up, not able to believe she had understood.</p> + +<p>"Now, my frand 'ere, 'e wish to marry wiz you. Why, I do not know." Lopez +grinned broadly. He knew this would be the last stroke. He was right.</p><p><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200"></a></p> + +<p>"Oh!" gasped Angela.</p> + +<p>"Shall he come wiz me to Mexico," the bandit piled it on, "I will give 'im +planty wives, young, beautiful...."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" again came from the distracted Angela.</p> + +<p>"But he want you. And so ..."</p> + +<p>"You're going to force me to marry him. I see!" She turned to the listening +"Red." "And you'd let him force you on me, like this?"</p> + +<p>"It ain't my fault, Angela," the foreman assured her. "I didn't know he was +going to do this! You know that."</p> + +<p>Lopez issued his ultimatum.</p> + +<p>"I am not going to force you to marry 'im. You are going to choose to marry +'im."</p> + +<p>The girl was on the brink of despair.</p> + +<p>"Never! Never! Never!" she screamed, and stamped her foot vigorously.</p> + +<p>"Ah! my young lady. We shall see." He turned abruptly, and called, "Pedro!"</p> + +<p>"<i>Si</i>," the faithful one answered, and came to his master.</p> + +<p>Lopez then addressed Angela: "I shall not force you to marry 'im," +indicating "Red" with a wave of the hand. "I shall insist only zat if you +do not marry wiz 'im, you shall marry wiz Pedro."</p><p><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201"></a></p> + +<p>Directly behind the girl stood the fearful Pedro. His face was the dirtiest +that had ever crossed the border into Arizona. His teeth were sparse, his +hair a tangled mass of grit and dirt; his hands like violent mud-pies. The +suit he wore was stained and greasy—he had slept in it for many nights. +Altogether, he was about the most hopeless-looking individual a girl could +be asked to look upon. At his master's words, he grinned a fiendishly happy +grin, spread out his arms as if to embrace the charming Angela, and, if +possible, press a kiss upon her rosy cheek. But Angela, with one look at +him, collapsed into "Red's" waiting arms. He seemed like heaven to her now.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" yelled Lopez.</p> + +<p>"'Red'! save me, save me!" Angela cried in melodramatic fashion.</p> + +<p>Pedro, seeing how far from popular he was with the young lady, walked +disconsolately to the door.</p> + +<p>"So! You do love 'im, after all!" the bandit said to Angela.</p> + +<p>"I never thought I could love anybody so much!" the girl replied. "Oh, +'Red'!" And she hugged him again.</p> + +<p>"You mean it?" asked the delighted "Red." "You're not saying it because +..."</p><p><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202"></a></p> + +<p>But Lopez broke in: "She is saying it because it is ze truth. In pleasure, +a woman go to ze man she sink she love. In fear, she go to ze man she +really love.... Well, you really want her? She is yours. And I 'ope you +will be 'appy. At least, I 'ave done my part." He smiled his most +enchanting smile.</p> + +<p>"You have—you certainly have, and I am mighty obliged to you," said the +grateful "Red."</p> + +<p>"You are welcome. I like you. But remember zis: Eet is your wish—not +mine.... Don't blame me."</p> + +<p>"Red" could stand this now: he had his Angela. And tucked in his big arm, +he took her outdoors.</p> + +<p>As soon as they had gone, Hardy turned to Lopez. "Look here!" he shouted, +"I guess I've got something to say about this. That's my daughter, whose +affairs you've been so kindly fixing up, and—"</p> + +<p>Lopez gave him one look that closed his mouth suddenly. "Don't shoot, +Pedro," he said. "Well?"</p> + +<p>Hardy cast one eye at Pedro's lifted gun, and got out only one word, +"Nothing." A meeker man never lived.</p><p><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203"></a></p> + +<p>"From what my frand tell me, I can see now 'ow you make your money," the +bandit told Hardy. "You are a robber."</p> + +<p>This was too much for Hardy—for any man with a spark of manhood left in +him.</p> + +<p>"I am not!" he denied. "I'm a business man."</p> + +<p>"You are a loan fish," the bandit pressed.</p> + +<p>"A what?"</p> + +<p>"A loan fish! You loan money. And when ze people cannot pay, you convict +zem and take zeir ranchos."</p> + +<p>The lean, sharklike Hardy looked a little depressed at this accusation.</p> + +<p>"Well, if they can't pay, it isn't my fault," was all he could say.</p> + +<p>"It isn't zeir fault, too, is it?" Lopez was curious to know.</p> + +<p>"What's that?" Hardy said.</p> + +<p>"So you take ze rancho from my friend, Señor Jones. A nice sort of neighbor +you are, you beeg fish!"</p> + +<p>"I'm not to blame because he's a rotten business man, am I?" Hardy tried to +set himself right.</p> + +<p>Lopez looked at him scornfully. "How do you know 'e is a rotten business +man?"</p><p><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204"></a></p> + +<p>"Why, the fact that I've had to foreclose the mortgage shows that," Hardy +smiled.</p> + +<p>"Not at all. Señor Jones 'ave been away to war. He been away fighting for +'is country."</p> + +<p>"Well, that isn't my fault."</p> + +<p>"No." There was profound contempt in the little word. "He give up 'is +business to go away to fight to save you, while you stay be'ind to rob 'im. +Is zat fair?"</p> + +<p>Hardy gave a gesture of disdain. "I'm not talking about what's fair, or +what's not fair. There's lots of things in this world that ain't right. I +am doing only what the law allows." He thought this cleared his skirts. It +was the refuge of every scoundrel.</p> + +<p>"I do not speak about ze law," Lopez followed him up. "I am doing only what +is fair. If I were you, I should be ashamed for myself! You love your +country?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly I do," the other answered.</p> + +<p>"Like 'ell! You love yourself!" And Lopez deliberately turned his back on +him.</p> + +<p>"Now, wait a minute!" Hardy begged. He could scarcely have this insult +added to the host of others. "I do love my country. I'm a good American."</p><p><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205"></a></p> + +<p>"Yet you would rob ze man who fight for your country! Bah!" The bandit +waved his hand in disgust.</p> + +<p>Hardy saw he was in a bad hole. "There's some truth in what you said," he +admitted, trying to crawl out. "He <i>has</i> fought for America. And I'm +willing to do the right thing by him."</p> + +<p>"You will?" yelled Uncle Henry, wheeling close to him.</p> + +<p>"If I get this place, I'm willing to give him a good bonus," Hardy +continued.</p> + +<p>Uncle Henry leaned forward, all eagerness. "How much?" he cried.</p> + +<p>"Say, five hundred dollars," the loan shark generously offered.</p> + +<p>"I knew there was a ketch in it!" Uncle Henry said, and rolled back in the +shadows of the alcove.</p> + +<p>Lopez had been listening intently. Now he stepped up to Hardy and said: +"Señor Santy Claus, now I understand why it is so 'ard for your country to +get ze soldier. In Mexico, ze soldiers would take all ze money and give ze +people a bonus ... per'aps." He puffed his cigarette. "I am done wiz you." +He turned abruptly to Lucia. "Now I shall come to you."</p><p><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206"></a></p> + +<p>She started.</p> + +<p>"You love my frand, Señor Jones?"</p> + +<p>Gilbert intervened. He could not stand this. "I don't know what you're +getting at," he said to Lopez, "nor how you're going to get it. But you +must see that you can't discuss a thing like this here. It's +impossible—utterly impossible." He was suffering vicariously for Lucia.</p> + +<p>Pell sneered. "Your delicacy is somewhat delayed," he murmured.</p> + +<p>"I don't mind business discussions. But there's been too much insinuation +to-day. I won't have any more of it," Jones said.</p> + +<p>Lopez looked affectionately at the young fellow, "But if I would make you +'appy...." he said.</p> + +<p>"I don't want to be made happy at a cost so great," Gilbert affirmed.</p> + +<p>Lucia's lovely head drooped, and she moved to the window.</p> + +<p>"It shall be but a moment," the bandit promised. Gilbert walked to the +fireplace so that his face would not be seen. Lopez went over to Lucia. +"Señora, you do not wish to speak of love. Why?"</p> + +<p>"I am married," was the answer.</p><p><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207"></a></p> + +<p>"And because you are marry, you cannot speak of love?... Eet is strange +customs. Tell me, señora, what does your marriage service say?"</p> + +<p>"One promises to love, honor, and obey, in sickness and in health, till +death shall part."</p> + +<p>Lopez smiled. "All zat you promise?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," very low.</p> + +<p>"And yet you 'ave divorce!"</p> + +<p>"Yes," lower still.</p> + +<p>"So zat, after 'aving promise to love, honor, and hobey," he tapped off one +finger at a time, and looked as if he wanted to get this mysterious matter +straight in his mind, "until death, you 'ave ze right to break your word +because ze judge say you can? Is zat it?"</p> + +<p>"Y-y-y-yes. I suppose so."</p> + +<p>Lopez smoked a moment, looked at the ceiling, and then said, "Well, why not +break it yourself and save ze trouble!"</p> + +<p>"It's the law," Lucia told him.</p> + +<p>"Humph! An' what does ze 'usband promise? An' 'as 'e kept 'is promise?" +There was no reply. "Is plain 'e 'as not. Zen why should you keep your word +to 'im, when 'e 'as broken 'is word to you? Eh? Why do you not go before ze +judge and 'ave <a name="Page_208" id="Page_208"></a>your promise broken? Why ees it ze custom of your country? +Why? Why?" He looked bewildered.</p> + +<p>Lucia could say nothing. What was there to say? Suddenly Uncle Henry's +sharp voice was heard: "I'll tell you why!"</p> + +<p>Lopez turned to him. "And why?"</p> + +<p>"She ain't got no money," Uncle Henry informed the room.</p> + +<p>Lucia lifted her face. "Oh, do you think that would make any difference?"</p> + +<p>"So!" Lopez was interested, "'Er 'usband? 'E 'as money?"</p> + +<p>"He's richer'n mud," Uncle Henry declared.</p> + +<p>Pell started to speak; but Pedro stopped him by lifting his gun.</p> + +<p>"How much?" Lopez asked, not noticing.</p> + +<p>Uncle Henry was bursting with information. "He's worth millions, the big +bum!"</p> + +<p>The bandit's eyes opened wide. "Millions!" he repeated. He looked at Lucia. +"Yet 'e give nozzing to ze wife. H'm! Señora, tell me.... Does a widow in +your country get any of 'er 'usband's money when 'e dies?"</p> + +<p>Pell, listening intently, drew a sharp breath. He caught the significance +of the question. His <a name="Page_209" id="Page_209"></a>lips contracted. This damned bandit was capable of +anything.</p> + +<p>Lopez paid no attention to him. He asked for enlightenment from Hardy. +"Señor Loan Fish, do you know?"</p> + +<p>Pell ventured to get out part of a sentence. "Say, what the ..." But +Pedro's active gun came against his ribs, and he paused, as who would not?</p> + +<p>"She gets it all—the wife," Hardy told Lopez. "That is, if the husband +hasn't made a will."</p> + +<p>"'Ave you?" the bandit turned on Pell. "'Ave you made a will?" His tone was +incisive. "Do not lie."</p> + +<p>"No, damn you!" Pell in his rage cried out. "But I'm going to, the first +min—"</p> + +<p>"Good!" smiled Lopez.</p> + +<p>Pell was puzzled, "What do you mean ... good?"</p> + +<p>Lopez did not answer him; instead, he addressed Lucia: "Señora, your +'usband 'e is bad frand for you. 'E beat you, sometimes?"</p> + +<p>Lucia was startled. "Why do you think that?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"I 'ave known ladies what are beaten. It is in ze eyes ... as in dogs and +'orses." He waited<a name="Page_210" id="Page_210"></a> a second before he went on, came close to her, and +peered earnestly into her eyes. "<i>Si</i>, I sink your 'usband a evil man." He +turned on Pell again. "Say, who are you? Your business, I mean?"</p> + +<p>"I'm in Wall Street," Pell said, in a low voice. What in God's name was +this bandit going to do? What was his game?</p> + +<p>"Wall Street? 'Aven't you never done anything honest? You go to ze war, +per'aps, like my frand, Señor Jones?"</p> + +<p>"I was in Washington," Pell winced. "A dollar-a-year man."</p> + +<p>"You use your money, your power, to escape ze war? So! You are not only a +skindler, but a coward. While my frand fight, you stay to home, to torture +ze woman, H'm! I see it all now. Nice boy, you!"</p> + +<p>Pell could scarcely articulate now, but he managed to get out, "By God, +I've had enough of this—just about enough!"</p> + +<p>Lopez looked at him coldly, a glint in his eye that should have warned +Pell. "Do not worry," he said. "You are about through." He turned to his +friend, Gilbert. "And now, my frand, you shall go." <a name="Page_211" id="Page_211"></a>Young Jones did not +understand him.</p> + +<p>"Go?" he asked. "What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>Lopez looked at him calmly, "I 'ave much business to do. You shall not +'ear, nor see, because for you is love, romance! Not business, which are +soddid. Leave all zat for me, which am a business man." He smiled upon +Lucia. "As I said, life 'as been unkind to you, señora. Ze silly law ... ze +foolish custom ... 'ave been around your 'eart, around your soul, like +chains. But fear no more," he assured her. "For I, your frand, shall make +you also 'appy." He put his arm around her.</p> + +<p>She was fearful of his plans. "What are you going to do?" she cried.</p> + +<p>Lopez laughed. "Wait and see. Life shall be yours. And love! Planty money! +All what your 'eart desire. Now go...."</p> + +<p>Pedro started to show them out the door. Gilbert, seeing the movement, +said:</p> + +<p>"But I don't understand ..."</p> + +<p>"I shall call you soon," Lopez said. "Zen you shall see. Now go." He got +between them, and affectionately directed them to the door.</p> + +<p>Gilbert turned to him. "You aren't going to ..."</p><p><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212"></a></p> + +<p>The bandit smiled. "Do not worry. I shall do no 'arm. Only good. Please go, +my frand."</p> + +<p>Lucia and Gilbert, deeply puzzled, obeyed, and followed Pedro into the open +air. What did this portend? There had been a strange look in the eyes of +Pancho Lopez.</p><p><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213"></a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<h4>WHEREIN A MAN PROVES HIMSELF A CRAVEN, A SHOT RINGS OUT, AND THE BAD MAN +EXPLAINS ONE LITTLE HOUR</h4> + + +<p>A heavy silence fell upon the men who were left in the room. The bandit, +unconcerned, puffed his cigarette. Hardy and Pell felt like rats in a trap. +Only Uncle Henry was passive. In the tense stillness, the clock could be +heard ticking on and on. Pell was beginning to crack beneath the strain. +Suddenly he began to pace the floor, his hands behind his back. No tiger in +a cage was ever more impatient in his captivity.</p> + +<p>"If you want money," he finally got out, "for heaven's sake, tell me how +much, and ..."</p> + +<p>Lopez quickly interrupted him. His fury boiled over at the insinuation. "Be +still!" he cried. "You will please be quiet. I 'ave business to sink out +which are 'ard."</p><p><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214"></a></p> + +<p>Pell was equally angry. "Why, damn you ..." he sputtered.</p> + +<p>He should have known better. Coldly Lopez took him in. "I 'ave been patient +wiz you—too patient. I see zat now." The other returned his keen gaze, and +for an instant he did not quail; but finally he could stand the strain no +longer. His eyes fell away, and for the first time in all their bitter +encounter he felt himself sinking. A terrible uncertainty came over him. +This Mexican, this beast, was going to do something desperate. There was +not the shadow of a doubt about that. He must go carefully: he must not +lose his self-control. To do so would be madness.</p> + +<p>Luckily, Uncle Henry broke the tension just then: "Am I going to get my +money back?" he cried out. And his chair projected itself into their midst.</p> + +<p>Lopez faced Hardy, across the table. "Señor Loan Fish," he said, "if my +frand, 'e pay you ze money, zen ze rancho belong to him?"</p> + +<p>"If he pays me before eight o'clock," the other replied promptly.</p> + +<p>"Señor Wall Street," the bandit now addressed Pell, "you 'ave ten sousand +dollar. I want it."</p> + +<p>Pell was amazed. "But I—"</p><p><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215"></a></p> + +<p>Lopez snapped his fingers. Pedro, who came back at that very moment, took +the money from Pell, and watched his master closely for further +instructions as to what to do. Lopez nodded toward Smith.</p> + +<p>"For 'im," he said.</p> + +<p>"For me?" cried Uncle Henry, joyfully.</p> + +<p>"I must make my frand 'appy," the bandit said. Pedro gave the money to +Uncle Henry. The latter grabbed it as a child might have grabbed a cooky.</p> + +<p>Lopez turned to Pell. "Now—you is rob." To Hardy he said: "You is paid," +and to Uncle Henry, "An' you get your money back. <i>Bueno!</i> Ees finish."</p> + +<p>Pell was cynical. "I'll say that's service," he murmured; and a sardonic +grin came to his thin lips. Perhaps the bandit was joking, after all. But +damn these jokes that kept one in long after school!</p> + +<p>Uncle Henry, however, had a strange apprehension, and wheeled about, facing +Lopez.</p> + +<p>"You ain't goin' to take it back from me, are you?" he inquired.</p> + +<p>"No, Ooncle Hennery," the bandit laughed, "she is yours for keeps. Zat is +all. You may go!"<a name="Page_216" id="Page_216"></a> And he waved him out. "And you," to Hardy. "Pedro, show +zem into ze open space!"</p> + +<p>"'Im too?" asked Pedro, indicating Morgan Pell who stood, as though made of +stone, in one corner.</p> + +<p>"<i>Poco tiempo!</i>" the bandit said.</p> + +<p>"<i>Debommultalo!</i>" his henchman replied.</p> + +<p>"<i>Si</i>," Lopez smiled. And Pedro got the invalid and the lanky Hardy through +the door, as a woman might have swept two geese from her path.</p> + +<p>Left alone with the bandit, Pell remarked:</p> + +<p>"Look here, there must be some way to settle this thing." But he had grave +fears.</p> + +<p>"To zat, I 'ave come at last," the bandit replied with an emphasis that +could not be mistaken.</p> + +<p>"You have?" Pell's voice was weak.</p> + +<p>"It shall cost me planty money. I could 'ave tooken you wiz me for +ransom—'elluva big ransom—a million dollar, mebbe. But I am not soddid!" +He laughed, and rubbed his hands together.</p> + +<p>"You aren't going to hold me for ransom?" Pell questioned, relief in his +voice.</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"What—what are you doing to do?"</p> + +<p>The reply was as swift as an arrow. "Kill you."</p><p><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217"></a></p> + +<p>Pell did not believe what he heard.</p> + +<p>"Kill me?" he repeated, his head on one side, like a bird listening, and +pointing to his chest.</p> + +<p>"<i>Si.</i>" Lopez had never used a politer tone.</p> + +<p>"You—you're joking." There was a crack in Pell's voice.</p> + +<p>"Joking?"</p> + +<p>"You must be!" huskily. "I thought so all along—now I'm sure of it."</p> + +<p>The bandit faced him, and threw his cigarette over his shoulder in the +chimney-place. "Do I look like a joker?"</p> + +<p>"You sit there, like that, and talk of killing me in cold blood?"</p> + +<p>Lopez took him in through half-closed lids. "I do not like you. Nobody like +you. Alive, you are no good. Dead, you make two people which I love 'appy. +You get me, Señor Wall Street?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I see," cried Pell, wildly, and doing his best to keep his legs from +giving way, "you would kill me so that my wife can marry this Gilbert +Jones?" A sickly smile curled around his mouth.</p> + +<p>Lopez nodded. "<i>Si, señor.</i>"</p> + +<p>"If that's all, I'll give her a divorce!"</p> + +<p>"You weel give her a divorce?" Lopez repeated, pretending to be much +interested and pleased.</p><p><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218"></a></p> + +<p>Pell saw a gleam of hope through the darkness of this moment. "Yes," came +breathlessly from him. "Then she can marry him. Don't you see? If that's +all you want—he can have her." He was shaking now in every limb. Escape +was almost his. He knew he could not be done away with. "I'll give her to +him!" He staggered toward Lopez, "I will! I swear I will!" he screamed, his +words reaching a high falsetto.</p> + +<p>Lopez rose. "I would look at you once before I shoot," he said slowly, and +took in the other's cringing form.</p> + +<p>"What?" Pell said.</p> + +<p>Disgust was on the features of the bandit—contempt and unbelievable +loathing.</p> + +<p>"I 'ave met mans which would not fight for zeir money," he said with great +deliberation, his lip curled. "I 'ave met mans which would not fight for +zeir lives. But I 'ave never before met ze man which would not fight for +'is woman."</p> + +<p>Pell saw that he was doomed now. He made one final desperate attempt. "But +if you—shoot me—you'll be hanged!"</p> + +<p>"Ha!" laughed Lopez. "If I am ever caught, I shall be 'anged many times!"</p> + +<p>"I'm an American citizen!" shrilled Pell.</p><p><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219"></a></p> + +<p>"I 'ave kill many American citizens," replied Lopez, without the slightest +compunction.</p> + +<p>Pell wrung his hands. "My Goverment will pursue you!"</p> + +<p>"You are mistaken. Your Government will watchfully wait. We kill American +citizen. Your Government write us beautiful letter about it.... But we have +waste time!" He drew his gun.</p> + +<p>As Lopez leveled the weapon. Pell all but dropped on his knees. "Wait!" he +cried. "I'll give you money! Plenty of money! A million dollars! Yes, two +million!" It could not be that so shameful a fate was to be his.</p> + +<p>"It is not zat we want money," the bandit replied. "It is zat we <i>don't</i> +want <i>you</i>."</p> + +<p>Terror seized poor Pell. "But for God's sake," he wailed, "you wouldn't do +that! You couldn't! Without even a chance for my life. At least fight me +fair!" His voice seemed far away to him—like the voice of another being +from a distant world.</p> + +<p>"Fair?" Lopez rolled the word over.</p> + +<p>"Give me a gun, too!" the fool prayed.</p> + +<p>"Give you a gun! Pedro!" The man had evidently been just outside the door, +and came <a name="Page_220" id="Page_220"></a>in at once. "Pedro, you 'ear?" And Pedro grinned.</p> + +<p>"Yes! Give me a chance!"</p> + +<p>"I shall never understand ze American idea. I give you a gun, you say?"</p> + +<p>"Yes! That's the least you can do!" Pell was weeping now.</p> + +<p>"But if I should give you a gun, you might shoot me wiz it!" Lopez laughed.</p> + +<p>"You won't?"</p> + +<p>"I am no damn fool!" the bandit cried. And he deliberately raised his gun +again.</p> + +<p>"You're not going to kill me? No! for the love of God, don't!" He plunged +forward, groveling at Lopez's feet. A woman in a melodrama could not have +begged harder for mercy. "Spare me!" were the words that fell from his +pitiful lips. "For God's sake, spare me! I'll do anything! Go anywhere! He +can have her! You can have her! Her, and all the money I've got, if only +you'll spare my life!"</p> + +<p>The bandit looked down in utter disgust at the cringing form. Never had he +seen anything in the world that he detested more. Pell's fingers were on +the bandit's boots.</p> + +<p>"I did not know zat even a dog could be so<a name="Page_221" id="Page_221"></a> yellow," he said. Then he +turned to Pedro. "I do not 'unt rabbits. You kill 'im, Pedro." And he would +not look again on the miserable specimen of a man that wallowed there on +the floor.</p> + +<p>"Ah! for the love of God!" came from Pell, who had half risen. At that +instant Pedro shot from his hip at the debased creature. The form stiffened +and collapsed like a bag, falling partially under the table.</p> + +<p>"It is a good deed," said Lopez, turning. "He was evil man."</p> + +<p>The shot had been heard without. "Red," Gilbert, Hardy, and a few Mexicans +rushed in at the sound.</p> + +<p>"Who shot?" cried the former.</p> + +<p>"Pedro," said Lopez.</p> + +<p>"But what was he shooting at?" "Red" asked.</p> + +<p>Lopez smiled. "Only ze 'usband."</p> + +<p>"What!" cried "Red." He turned and saw the body of Pell lying sprawled on +the floor, and horror came over him. "You've killed him!" His voice was +husky.</p> + +<p>"I 'ave. Most enjoyishly!" said Lopez, lighting a cigarette.</p> + +<p>Gilbert went over and stared down at the mute frame. "He's dead," he +announced. <a name="Page_222" id="Page_222"></a>"Completely. Pedro never misses," was the bandit's only +comment.</p> + +<p>"But to kill a man—like that! In cold blood!" Hardy gasped. "Oh, it's +horrible!"</p> + +<p>"Why not?" Lopez wanted to know. "Ze skindler, ze coward what beat his +wife. Was evil man." What white-livered folk these Americans were!</p> + +<p>Gilbert looked down at Pell's body, which had now, in death, a certain +curious dignity. "But don't you see what you've done?"</p> + +<p>Lopez looked at him in bland amazement. "You wouldn't still fool around wiz +ze foolish law, ze silly court?" he inquired. "Do you not see 'ow much +better is my way? One hour ago you 'ave no money, no rancho, no woman. One +little hour! Ze money she is paid, ze rancho she is yours, and ze woman +what you want to marry is free for do so!" He looked Gilbert in the eyes, +and came close to him. "Tell me, 'ave I not keep my promise? 'Ave I not +make you, in one little hour, a 'appy man?"</p><p><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223"></a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<h4>WHEREIN THE BAD MAN CANNOT UNDERSTAND THE GOOD MAN AND DISAPPEARS; AND A +DEAD MAN STIRS</h4> + + +<p>Immediately after, Lucia came in. She saw the body of her husband, the legs +drawn up a bit, the arms stretched out, the wounded head turned so that the +blood flowing from the forehead could not be seen. Only a few moments +before, this limp, pitiful object had been speaking to her—calling her by +name. It seemed incredible that Pell was powerless now to harm her. Brute +though he had been, he gained, in this awesome instant, a strange glory, as +the dead always do. The splendor of that universal experience was suddenly +his; and, even lying there like a discarded meal-sack, he took on something +of the pomp of a cardinal who had died. Never, of course, had she respected +him more; and though she could not bring herself to shed a tear, <a name="Page_224" id="Page_224"></a>she +looked down at the still body, huddled in a heap, and craved one more word +with him. No matter what has happened between a man and a woman; no matter +what tragic hours they have known, when the moment of separation comes, +there is always that wish to have explained a little more, to have taken a +different course in all one's previous actions. It was not that she blamed +herself; she had nothing on her conscience. But there was an instinctive +dread at meeting the certain pain of this crisis.</p> + +<p>She could not believe that he had gone from her like this. She had read of +people being blotted out in such fashion; but that Fate should bear down +upon her household, that the lightning should strike within the borders of +her garden, seemed impossible. Like everyone else, she never dreamed that a +great tragedy could come to her. Just as we never think of ourselves as +meeting with a street accident, so she never thought of this catastrophe. +Yet there he lay, the symbol of that inexorable terror that moves through +the world.</p> + +<p>She went over quietly to a chair near the table and sat down. She hid her +face in her hands. She did not wish to see that silent form again; yet he +had been her husband, and her place, she knew, was<a name="Page_225" id="Page_225"></a> by his side, in death +even more than in life. How the world had changed for her in this little +hour!</p> + +<p>She had come into the room just as Pancho was finishing his talk with +Gilbert; and she caught the force of his words. Now she heard him saying +something else.</p> + +<p>"And now, what you say? You all 'appy, eh?"</p> + +<p>Gilbert was still too dazed to understand. "You've killed him!" was all he +could utter.</p> + +<p>"I 'ave," the bandit answered. "You need not thank me. It was a great +pleasure." Evidently he smiled; Lucia would not look up.</p> + +<p>Gilbert paced the floor. "He's dead!" he kept repeating, as though to brand +the truth upon his brain. "He's dead!" He paused once and stared down again +at the body.</p> + +<p>"He's dead, just as I say," Lopez stated. "Pedro never misses."</p> + +<p>As though he had heard his name spoken, the ubiquitous Pedro ambled in, +slowly, and with a bored expression upon his ugly countenance.</p> + +<p>"Azcooze, my general," he said. His chief turned. "It is ze damn ranger. +Zey is after us some more."</p> + +<p>Lopez never turned a hair. Lucia heard him <a name="Page_226" id="Page_226"></a>say: "It is time. I was +agspectin' zem. Ze 'osses?"</p> + +<p>"Zey are ready," Pedro informed him.</p> + +<p>Pancho paused and considered a moment. "Zey come from ze souse, zose +rangers?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Si</i>," was the quick answer.</p> + +<p>Lopez rose. "Felipe Aguilaw becomes more hefficient hevery day. I shall +make general of 'im yet. <i>Bueno</i>, we go."</p> + +<p>"Red" had gone over and looked out of the window. Twilight had definitely +come, and the sky was a great sheet of flame. Orange, pink, purple, and +red, the clouds shifted over the face of the dying sun. A king going down +to his death could not have passed in greater glory. While men and women +fought their little battles, waged their puny quarrels, this stately +miracle occurred once more. Unmindful of the grief of mortals, the day was +about to pass into the arms of the waiting night.</p> + +<p>"What's it all about?" "Red" asked, turning from the wonderful scene +without to the frightened people within.</p> + +<p>"It is ze ranger what chase me some more again," smiled Lopez. He seemed +wholly unconcerned.</p><p><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227"></a></p> + +<p>"Texas rangers after you?" asked "Red," startled.</p> + +<p>"<i>Si!</i>" laughed Lopez.</p> + +<p>"And you don't even get excited?"</p> + +<p>"For why? It is not my habit. I give not a damn for any man." He snapped +his fingers, as though at life itself.</p> + +<p>Two horses could be seen through the door. The men were bringing them up to +their leader. "We should take our time—is no hurry." He took his big +sombrero from the peg where he had put it long ago, and turned to Gilbert. +"Well, I go now. <i>Adios</i>, my frand."</p> + +<p>"Wait a minute," the other tried to detain him. "You've killed him. You +wouldn't go and leave things this way, would you?"</p> + +<p>"As I say, no trouble for me," Lopez boyishly said, and smiled, shrugging +his broad shoulders.</p> + +<p>Gilbert was astonished. "Yes; but how about me?" he wanted to know, "You do +not think of that."</p> + +<p>The bandit turned, amazed. "What ze matter? Are you not satisfied? You all +what you say: zit—zot—zet!" He pinched his fingers, and made a funny +little noise.</p> + +<p>"I can't think," said Gilbert, sitting down, one <a name="Page_228" id="Page_228"></a>hand on his forehead. +"It's all so strange, so confusing to me. The world seems to be rocking +beneath my feet. What does it all mean—this life we live for so brief a +time? What does anything mean?"</p> + +<p>Lopez came over to him and put his hand on his shoulder affectionately. +"You Americanos so queer," he said, "For why you waste time thinking? Are +you not rich? 'Ave you not ze beautiful lady to love like 'ell yourself +personal?"</p> + +<p>Gilbert jumped up. He thought he would go mad if this sort of thing kept +up. "Good God, man!" he cried. "After what you've done, you can talk like +that?"</p> + +<p>"What have I done?" inquired the bandit, blandly. "Well, <i>what</i> I done?"</p> + +<p>Gilbert looked at him in amazement. "You killed him! That's all."</p> + +<p>Lopez smiled. "Sure!" He let the word loiter on his tongue. He pulled it +out like so much molasses candy. "I killed him—sure. Was in ze way. What +else could I do?"</p> + +<p>"You've put a barrier between us. We're of a different brand, a different +calibre. Don't you see?"</p> + +<p>"Ees no way for pliz you. If I do not kill ze <a name="Page_229" id="Page_229"></a>'usband, ees all wrong. If I +do kill ze 'usband, ees all wrong. Say," he looked at him in confusion, +"what ze 'ell shall I do wiz ze damn 'usband, anyway?" He puckered his +brow.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know," Gilbert said in desperation. What was the use in +arguing with this barbarian? Yes, he was a barbarian—nothing else. They +were miles apart. Centuries of belief and training separated them.</p> + +<p>"You don't know?" Lopez said. "Pretty soon you find out. It surprise you +now. But pretty damn soon when all shall go and leave you alone wiz 'er, +you shall be sensible, too—like Mexican. To live is more strong as law. +Wait and see, my frand, wait and see!" He shook his head mysteriously.</p> + +<p>Pedro stepped forward. "Here is a pistol," he said to his master in +Spanish.</p> + +<p>Lopez looked at him. "Ah, <i>gratia</i>, Pedro!" He took the weapon from him and +patted him on the back. Then he whispered something in his ear, handed it +back, and Pedro gave it to Gilbert.</p> + +<p>"Ze ranger. Zey come," he said as he did so.</p> + +<p>"<i>Bueno.</i> I go," said Lopez, and started toward the door. Then he turned to +Gilbert. "<i>Astuavago adios.</i> Maybe we will meet again, maybe no.<a name="Page_230" id="Page_230"></a> <i>Quien +sabe?</i>" He waved his hand, gave one last look at Pell's limp form, and +cried, "<i>Adios!</i>" He was gone—vanished like a ghost.</p> + +<p>They all were mute in the little room. They heard the hoof beats of the +horses as they galloped away. Fainter and fainter grew the sound. Then +silence. And meanwhile the great night was falling like a curtain around +them all. Through the doorway came the last beautiful beams of the sun. The +mountains were like giant sentinels, row on row, unbelievably near in the +semi-darkness. Far off, now and then, a bird could be heard calling. Soon +darkness would envelop the earth, and this day of doom would be gone +forever. Never might they see Pancho Lopez again. Gilbert would go north; +and Lucia—He could not think.</p> + +<p>Hardy broke the silence. He came over and looked down at Pell. "We can't +touch him till the coroner gits here," he said grimly. There were, as +always, ghastly details to be attended to.</p> + +<p>"But I better make sure," said "Red," kneeling beside the body. "Right in +the head. Not a chance." He was peering down at the gaunt face. "No, not a +chance when you get it there."</p> + +<p>Angela, hearing something outside, had rushed to the door and looked into +the growing darkness.<a name="Page_231" id="Page_231"></a> "I thought—What was that?" she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>They all listened. Far off a shot could be heard—then another. But it must +have been miles away.</p> + +<p>"Red" sprang up. "Rangers!" he cried. "They're shooting!"</p> + +<p>"Where are they?" Hardy asked.</p> + +<p>"In the arroyo," "Red" replied. He was at the window, looking out. "You'll +see 'em in a minute."</p> + +<p>The sound of shots came nearer. It was as though a miniature army were +storming the section near the adobe.</p> + +<p>Uncle Henry, sitting in the alcove, was terrified. "What's that?" came his +piercing voice.</p> + +<p>"They see him!" cried "Red."</p> + +<p>"Do you think they can hit him?" Angela cried.</p> + +<p>"Red" was certain they could not. "There ain't a chance, at that range," he +said.</p> + +<p>But Uncle Henry was not so sure. "Mebbe they might, by accident."</p> + +<p>"Red" turned. "Accidents don't happen in Arizona—leastwise not with guns."</p> + +<p>The horses' hoof beats came nearer. Yet in all the excitement, Lucia did +not move. She was keeping her silent place by the body of Morgan Pell. She +did not even raise her head.</p><p><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232"></a></p> + +<p>"Here they come!" cried Angela, leaning out the doorway.</p> + +<p>"Red" had gone out of the room; but he came back now. "Better get inside," +he warned them all, definite fear in his voice. "We're in range. It's +pretty dangerous. As I said, accidents don't happen down in this country."</p> + +<p>"But I want to see!" cried Angela, dancing with excitement now.</p> + +<p>"Red" was distracted. "Please come in, Angela," he begged. More shots were +heard. He was frightened for everyone. He had lived too long down here not +to know the meaning of such desperate shooting. "What the h——" Two +bullets came through the window, and smashed a little mirror that hung on +the wall near the staircase. The bits of glass fell to the floor with a +loud crash.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?" came the terrified voice of Uncle Henry. His hands +clung to the wheels of his chair. But he did not budge it.</p> + +<p>"Red" had not been able to dodge a shot. "Right through the hat!" he cried, +and waved his Stetson. Sure enough, a bullet had gone clean through his +headgear. Had he lifted his face a few inches higher, he would have been +shot himself.</p> + +<p>More hoof beats. Yet Lucia never moved.</p><p><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233"></a></p> + +<p>"Bullet?" asked Hardy.</p> + +<p>"Yes," "Red" replied. "And it was spang new—this hat. Cost eighteen +dollars!" He was still looking at the tattered Stetson.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it might have hit you!" Angela cried and embraced him.</p> + +<p>"Told you we'd better keep inside!" "Red" said.</p> + +<p>"You bet—until they go by," Hardy agreed.</p> + +<p>"Red" stepped forward. "Back, everybody!" he ordered. He pushed everyone +farther back into the room, until they were all crowded in one corner. +Uncle Henry was trembling like a leaf. How he wished he had never been +brought to this strange country! Oh, for the peace of Bangor, Maine! +<i>There</i> was a place for you! Down here it was all shooting, killing, and +desperate trouble. Having escaped one crisis, was it possible the fates +were to be so unkind as to put him in the way of another, from which there +might be no extrication? Curse the luck, anyhow. Gol darn it!</p> + +<p>The hoof beats came nearer and nearer. There were more shots. A man +dismounted near the door. Then a man on horseback galloped up to the very +entrance of the adobe. There was a general movement without, but no one +ventured to go out and <a name="Page_234" id="Page_234"></a>see what had happened. They could hear voices, +sharp commands, and far off one more shot. Someone cried, "Keep on after +him, boys!"</p> + +<p>A ranger came in. He was an angular fellow, with a bushy mustache, and eyes +like a ferret. His gun was on his hip, and one hand never left it. His name +was Bradley. Gilbert knew him well. Often had he met him in the hills. He +was known as one of the best shots of all that company of men who pursued +criminals and bandits through the State, and drove them over the border. +Few escaped him; and he had a train of lieutenants who adored him. A born +fighter, a born pursuer of men, who loved his desperate life, and gloried +in his conquests. Some called him Bradley the Inexorable. He seldom missed +a shot; and God help those who came into his power.</p> + +<p>"We're after Lopez," he said breathlessly. "Been here?" He never wasted +words.</p> + +<p>"Yes," Hardy answered. He looked toward Pell's body.</p> + +<p>Bradley's quick eyes followed his. "Hello! what's that? Wounded?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Worse—he's dead," Hardy replied.</p> + +<p>Bradley stepped close to the still form. "Who did this? Lopez?"</p><p><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235"></a></p> + +<p>"Yes," from Hardy.</p> + +<p>"Got it in the head, eh?" the ranger went on, looking down at Pell, but +with no pity in his face. He was too accustomed to death. A man who had +been killed was just another "case" to him—one of an endless row of +corpses.</p> + +<p>Angela came up to the table. "He's really dead?" she breathed, and clung to +"Red's" big arm.</p> + +<p>"Who was he?" Bradley inquired.</p> + +<p>Hardy motioned to the mute Lucia, sitting so quietly in the chair. "Her +husband. Name's Pell."</p> + +<p>"Sorry for you, lady," said Bradley, perfunctorily, as he might have said +"Good-morning." He turned now to go. "Don't touch him till the coroner +comes," he commanded. "Mind what I say."</p> + +<p>"But officer—" began Hardy.</p> + +<p>"Can't stop," Bradley waved him aside. "Now we <i>gotter</i> get him." He went +out as swiftly as he had come in. Every instant was precious. There was not +a second to be lost.</p> + +<p>And still Lucia did not stir a muscle. It was as if she had been turned to +stone. A silence fell upon them all. "Red" sat down on the little +window-seat, <a name="Page_236" id="Page_236"></a>his Angela beside him. Hardy tried to smoke. They could hear +the clock ticking on and on—that little clock which had heard so much as +its hands moved around the dial during the last few pregnant hours.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Uncle Henry, who had been looking at Morgan Pell's huddled form, +cried out;</p> + +<p>"Hey, what's comin' off?" Had the darkness deceived him?</p> + +<p>"Red" jumped at the question. "What's the matter?" His nerves were on edge.</p> + +<p>"He moved!" cried Uncle Henry, excited now, and rising in his chair, which +he wheeled out into the room.</p> + +<p>"Moved!" cried "Red." "You're crazy! He's stone dead, if ever anyone was."</p> + +<p>"I seen him—I swear I seen him!" Uncle Henry's eyes were almost popping +from his head. "Why didn't someone do something? Why didn't they see what +he saw? Oh, to be able to walk, and not sit forever like a dried mummy in +this chair!</p> + +<p>"But how could he have moved?" "Red" exclaimed. "He's dead, I say!"</p> + +<p>"I don't know how he could!" Uncle Henry cried, "but he did! Look at him!" +He could scarcely control himself now.</p><p><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237"></a></p> + +<p>"Maybe Lopez didn't kill him after all," "Red" said, and knelt down to +examine Pell's body again.</p> + +<p>"Now don't tell me that!" Uncle Henry yelled. "Ain't we got trouble enough +here without him comin' back?" He could have stood any calamity, it seemed, +but the return to life of this wretched Morgan Pell.</p> + +<p>"By golly!" "Red" exclaimed, on his knees, his hand on Pell's white face.</p> + +<p>"Was I right?" Uncle Henry said.</p> + +<p>"Red" rose slowly. His voice was almost a whisper. "He's alive!" he +breathed.</p> + +<p>Gilbert, who had not taken Uncle Henry's word seriously, could not doubt +"Red's" verdict.</p> + +<p>"Alive!" he said. "Oh, it can't be!"</p> + +<p>For the first time Lucia moved. Her lips opened. "Alive!" she managed to +say. Again the world crumbled for her.</p> + +<p>"It was only a flesh wound," "Red" said. "The bullet just grazed his head."</p> + +<p>Lucia looked up. She was ashen. She was older, and her eyes seemed to have +lost their fire. "He's—really—alive?" she got out. She stared down at her +husband.</p> + +<p>"They should of shot 'im in the stomach!"<a name="Page_238" id="Page_238"></a> Uncle Henry stated. What a mess! +What rotten luck, ran through his weary brain.</p> + +<p>Pell's foot moved again. Then his arm went up; and slowly he rose on one +elbow, pushed away the tablecloth that touched his head, and looked about +him. He was like a man awaking from a sound slumber. He was dazed, +mystified. In the almost complete darkness, he could not distinguish faces.</p> + +<p>"What was it? What happened?" he inquired, in a hollow voice—a voice from +the tomb!</p> + +<p>No one answered. They were all terror-stricken.</p> + +<p>"I can't remember," the hollow voice went on. He fell back on the floor. He +was weak from the loss of blood. "Red" lifted him up, and helped him around +the table to a chair.</p> + +<p>Lucia's eyes never left Morgan Pell's face. Was she dreaming? Was this some +madness that had come to her? This brute come back to life! It was +unbearable, unbelievable. She could not adjust her mind to the situation. +But with true feminine instinct, she found herself leaving her chair where +she had sat so long, going to the kitchen and getting a cup of water. Then +she knew, in some strange way, that she had fetched a bowl, and a towel. +These she placed on the table. Still she looked at her husband, as though +he were a ghost—as, <a name="Page_239" id="Page_239"></a>literally, he was. They had thought him dead—gone +forever. Now he was back among them, speaking, moving. Incredible! One hand +went to her face. She dreaded the thought of Morgan's seeing her.</p> + +<p>It was Uncle Henry who broke the awful tension.</p> + +<p>"You was shot!" he cried, to Pell.</p> + +<p>The other looked at the old man in the chair. "Shot?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Yes, and a rotten shot it was, too!" Uncle Henry was not afraid to say. +"Gol darn it all!"</p> + +<p>The moment was too tragic for anyone to smile.</p> + +<p>"Who shot me?" Pell asked. He was very weak. He put the towel in the bowl +of water, and pressed it to his forehead.</p> + +<p>"A friend of mine!" cried Uncle Henry.</p> + +<p>Gilbert glared at the old man. No one could be forgiven for a remark like +that.</p> + +<p>"I remember, now," Pell murmured. "The bandit."</p> + +<p>"And a gol darn nice fellow, too," Uncle Henry went on. "A little careless, +but—"</p> + +<p>Pell looked startled. The towel fell from his hand and he looked about him. +"He's not here still!" he cried, as one just coming out of a stupor to a +full realization of his surroundings.</p><p><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240"></a></p> + +<p>"No, worse luck!" Uncle Henry said.</p> + +<p>"He's gone?" Pell said.</p> + +<p>"The rangers came," Hardy explained.</p> + +<p>"Texas?" from Pell.</p> + +<p>"Yes, gol darn 'em!" Uncle Henry let out.</p> + +<p>Lucia, who had been watching Pell's face every second, now offered him the +bowl of water with her own hands, and drew closer to him. She picked up the +towel that had fallen to the table, and folded it, then dampened it. Pell +looked up and saw her for the first time.</p> + +<p>"Oh, so there you are, my dear!" was his cynical greeting.</p> + +<p>Lucia still stared at him. "I thought—I thought—you were dead," she +murmured. Her voice sounded far away to her. It was scarcely a whisper.</p> + +<p>"So it seems!" Morgan Pell answered, his lip curling. "My dear, I regret to +disappoint you. But aside from a slight pain in my head, I was never better +in my whole life!" He wanted to see the effect of his words.</p> + +<p>"Shall I bandage your wound for you?" his dutiful wife asked.</p> + +<p>He looked at her from the corner of his eye. "Thank you—no," he said.</p><p><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241"></a></p> + +<p>Lucia sat down on the other side of the table.</p> + +<p>Not a word more was said. Pell took out his own handkerchief, and started +to dip it in the bowl of water. But he was shaking still, and the piece of +linen dropped to the floor. He stooped to pick it up. As he did so, he saw, +in the dim light, the option lying exactly where Pancho Lopez had tossed +it. He grasped it in his hand, crushed and crumpled as it was, and thought +no one had observed him. But Uncle Henry's eagle eye had seen his movement.</p> + +<p>"What's that?" he called out.</p> + +<p>Pell tried to seem unconcerned. "The option, my dear sir," he answered +truthfully.</p> + +<p>"By gollies, he's got it again!" Uncle Henry yelled, in desperation. He +switched his chair around, and faced Gilbert. "Why didn't you tear it up +while he was dead?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Pell addressed Uncle Henry. "You've got ten thousand dollars of my money," +he firmly said.</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> have?"</p> + +<p>"I want it," was the other's immediate reply.</p> + +<p>"It was paid me for a debt," the old man said.</p> + +<p>"It was stolen from me first," Morgan Pell stated, calmly. "Come across." +He put one hand <a name="Page_242" id="Page_242"></a>out. The other still held the cloth to his wounded +forehead.</p> + +<p>"I'll be cussed if I will!" the invalid cried. He clapped his hands over +his vest pocket, where the money was safely hidden.</p> + +<p>"Why, you poor old crook—" Pell began, rose, and snatched the money from +Uncle Henry before anyone knew what he was doing. All his old fire was +back. He seemed the most alive man in the room.</p> + +<p>Uncle Henry cried out, wildly, "Hey, ain't there no Americans present?" He +saw Gilbert's gun which was on the seat beneath the stairway. He was close +enough to grasp it. He did so, pointed it at the room in general, and +yelled, "Now I got yuh! Hands up, everybody!"</p> + +<p>But no one moved. A disdainful silence followed. "Didn't yuh hear what I +said?" Uncle Henry inquired, looking at everybody.</p> + +<p>"Put that down," said Hardy contemptuously. "You might hurt somebody," he +added, smiling.</p> + +<p>"Ain't yuh goin' to do it?" Uncle Henry asked.</p> + +<p>"As I was going to say—" Hardy started, when Uncle Henry interrupted him +with:</p> + +<p>"But it was what <i>he</i> done!"</p> + +<p>"Who?" asked Hardy.</p><p><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243"></a></p> + +<p>"The bandit," Uncle Henry answered.</p> + +<p>"Will you keep still?" Hardy urged.</p> + +<p>"Certainly not!" Uncle Henry went on. "I got a gun here and I—"</p> + +<p>Hardy reached for the weapon. "I'm holdin' you up, gol darn it!" Jasper +Hardy took the gun as he would have taken a bag of peanuts from a child, +and handed it to Gilbert with a wink.</p> + +<p>"Hey! You can't do that!" wailed the invalid. He wheeled his chair toward +his nephew. "You wouldn't do that if my friend Lopez was here, you big +bum!" he ended, as peevish as an infant.</p> + +<p>Pell turned upon his wife. "Well, my dear—" he began, and once more his +lips curled at the irony of the last phrase.</p> + +<p>"What!" Lucia said; and there was terror in her voice.</p> + +<p>Pell did not mince words. "Having both the Option and a clearer +understanding of each other, there's nothing to detain us." He measured +everything he uttered, and watched the effect upon her.</p> + +<p>"It's no use," Hardy broke in. "You're too late."</p> + +<p>"Not if I got there by eight o'clock," Pell said.</p> + +<p>"But you won't!" Jasper Hardy quickly said, glancing at the clock which +ticked on, inexorably.</p><p><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244"></a></p> + +<p>Pell pulled out his watch. Then he looked at the option, deliberately, +carefully, and seemed to read a final sentence. Having done so, he tore the +piece of paper to bits slowly, and scattered them on the floor at his feet. +At that very instant the clock struck eight.</p> + +<p>"It's eight o'clock!" "Red" exclaimed on the last peal of the bell.</p> + +<p>"Eight o'clock!" Hardy cried. "And the place belongs to me!" He turned to +Pell. "Anything more from you?" he inquired, and smiled.</p> + +<p>The other stared at him; but he said nothing. Instead, he went over again +to the table, and wet his handkerchief in the bowl, again refusing Lucia's +proffered assistance with a wave of his other hand. He bathed his own +wound. And meanwhile Hardy was saying to Gilbert:</p> + +<p>"Well, young feller, it's your move."</p> + +<p>"His move!" "Red" repeated the phrase. "Say, you wouldn't go and skin him +out of the place all over again, would you?"</p> + +<p>Hardy sneered. "I'm going to foreclose, certainly, if that's what you mean, +you impudent young scoundrel!"</p> + +<p>"You mean you would trim him again?" "Red" didn't believe it.</p><p><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245"></a></p> + +<p>"Say, boy, you better use your head. You're going to marry my darter, ain't +you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—I hope so," the foreman said.</p> + +<p>"Well, don't you realize that all I got will eventually go to you and her? +Don't you?"</p> + +<p>"It will?" asked the incredulous "Red."</p> + +<p>"Certainly; when I die," answered Hardy.</p> + +<p>"I hope it'll be soon!" cried out Uncle Henry. Then, to "Red," "Don't you +see he's leading you up to the top o' that gol darn mountain?"</p> + +<p>"Red" did not understand. "Gol darn <i>what</i>?" he said.</p> + +<p>Uncle Henry was exasperated at his stupidity. "Why, he's temptin' you, the +old devil! Don't let him. It's a gol darn shame," he added, turning his +chair so that he faced Hardy, "an old scoundrel like you tryin' to corrupt +a nice young feller like him! Don't you know money you get like that won't +do you no good?"</p> + +<p>"It's his—Gilbert Jones's," cried "Red," "and I ain't goin' to be party to +robbin' him of it!"</p> + +<p>"Hooray!" yelled Uncle Henry. "That's the boy! I knew you was like that. +You're all right!" And he backed into the alcove, happier than he had been +in a long time.</p> + +<p>"You hear that?" Hardy said to his daughter.</p><p><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246"></a></p> + +<p>"I do," she answered, "and he's right."</p> + +<p>"What's that?" said her surprised father.</p> + +<p>"It is Gil's, and to take advantage of him isn't fair. You know it as well +as I do, too!" She stamped her little foot.</p> + +<p>"Say, you don't think you love him again, do you?" Hardy wanted to know.</p> + +<p>From the alcove, Uncle Henry cried: "That's the idea! And if the poor +sucker'd only marry her—"</p> + +<p>But Angela interrupted: "It isn't him I care for. It's—" She cut herself +off, and could have bitten out her tongue for thus revealing her heart.</p> + +<p>"Angela!" cried the enraptured "Red." He went over to her, grasped her +around the waist, and led her to the window.</p> + +<p>Hardy said, trying to pacify his daughter: "But I ain't going to be hard on +him—or on Jones."</p> + +<p>"You ain't?" Uncle Henry cried.</p> + +<p>Hardy turned to the nephew. "You know, that stuff Lopez said about me bein' +a bum patriot stuck in my craw. And now that I got the place, if you ever +need any help I'll be glad to go on your note for you."</p> + +<p>Gilbert said nothing; but Uncle Henry rushed in with, "You will?"</p><p><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247"></a></p> + +<p>"That is, if it ain't too much," Hardy craftily added.</p> + +<p>"How much?" Uncle Henry asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh, two hundred dollars," Jasper Hardy grandly said.</p> + +<p>"Two hundred dol—Git out o' my way!" Uncle Henry wheeled straight through +him.</p> + +<p>"Say, where are you goin'?" Hardy cried.</p> + +<p>"To Mexico!" Uncle Henry said. "This country's gettin' so it ain't fit to +live in!" And he whirled out of the room.</p> + +<p>Hardy turned to his daughter. "Nothing to keep us here any longer. Come on, +Angy."</p> + +<p>"Come, 'Red,'" said the girl, as she started to follow her father. What +else was there to do?</p> + +<p>Even though it was Angela who called to him, "Red's" allegiance was for the +moment elsewhere.</p> + +<p>"I gotter stick by him," he said, looking at Gilbert.</p> + +<p>"No," said Gilbert. "This is something I've got to settle alone. But I +thank you, 'Red'—I thank you with all my heart. You're a brick—a red +brick." He smiled and patted him on the back.</p> + +<p>"Red" was suspicious still. He looked at Gilbert. "You don't think he'll +try any funny business, <a name="Page_248" id="Page_248"></a>do you? You're sure you won't need me around?"</p> + +<p>"How can he try any funny business?" Gilbert asked.</p> + +<p>"I know," said "Red." Gilbert looked at him closely. "I get yuh," the +foreman continued. "But I don't like it just the same." He switched over to +the malignant Pell. "There's one little detail I'd like to call your +attention to," he said.</p> + +<p>"Well?" Pell said.</p> + +<p>"I'm a tough little feller myself, sometimes. And if anything should happen +that shouldn't, I'll be waitin' for you in town with a one-way ticket. And +it won't be to New York. Savez?" Then he turned to his adored and adoring +Angela. "Come, Angy!"</p> + +<p>And he grasped her arm, and took her out.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249"></a></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<h4>WHEREIN AN OLD SITUATION SEEMS ABOUT TO BE REPEATED, ANOTHER SHOT IS FIRED, +AND THE BAD MAN COMES BACK</h4> + + +<p>Deeper and deeper grew the darkness. Outside, indeed, the first stars had +begun to shine, and soon the heavens were a miraculous glory. But there was +no moon. Every road was hushed, and the trees waved their long arms in the +gloom. The little machine that took Angela and her father home, rolled down +the quiet valley. Its chug-chug was the only sound for miles around. "Red" +was happy in the cool night. He rode all the way out to the Hardy ranch. He +and Angela sang an old song, and let Jasper Hardy sit at the wheel and +whirl them to the lights of home.</p> + +<p>Meantime, back in Gilbert's adobe, the Mexican cook came from his stuffy +kitchen and fetched a lamp for the sitting-room. He lighted two candles <a name="Page_250" id="Page_250"></a>by +the fireplace, closed the shutters and door, and went back to his pots and +pans. He said nothing, noticed nothing. It had been a day of intense +excitement for him, and he was glad to crawl back, like some tiny worm, +into the cave where he ruled supreme.</p> + +<p>Lucia, in the lamplight, was paler than before. The three of them were +standing, curiously enough, almost as they had stood only a few brief hours +ago; and as she looked around her now she thought of this.</p> + +<p>"So," she said. "We're back just where we started from!" The grim humor of +it came over her. Ten minutes ago she had thought her husband dead—done +for, out of the way. Now he stood before her in all his virility, in all +his cruelty; and behind him was the one man in the world that she loved.</p> + +<p>"Not quite," said Gilbert. He stepped forward a pace or two. He saw that +Lucia was alarmed. "Come," he begged of her. "Don't be afraid." Oh, the +balm of those few words!</p> + +<p>But she was not wholly herself yet. "What are you going to do?" she asked, +and came nearer Gilbert. How strong and determined he looked in the dim +light!</p><p><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251"></a></p> + +<p>"I'm going to have this thing out," he said. "You can never go back to him +now." There was finality in his voice.</p> + +<p>"No, I never can," Lucia agreed. And there was finality in her voice, too. +It was as if Destiny had come into this house, and an unheard voice told +them what to do.</p> + +<p>"You'll trust me to protect you—until—" Gilbert went on.</p> + +<p>She looked at him pleadingly. "Oh, take me with you, Gil!" She threw her +arms out. She had nothing to fear now, his strength beside her. She told +him in one glorious gesture that she was his forever—that she had +surrendered herself, body and soul, to him. Gilbert looked at her. Slowly, +he realized that this woman, this creature of his dreams cared for him, and +him alone; and the world might sweep by, the stars and moon might crash to +earth, and they would neither know nor care. Fate had brought her to him. +Nothing else mattered now. What was Morgan Pell? In life he was as impotent +as when he lay half concealed beneath the table near which he now stood. +They would not consider him, save as the foolish laws of man made it +necessary for them to consider him.</p><p><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252"></a></p> + +<p>Gilbert turned to Pell. "You heard—she's mine now. And any course you may +take to stop her—" he warned. It was useless to say more. The manner in +which young Jones spoke told the whole story of his feelings.</p> + +<p>Yet Pell tried to appear nonchalant and casual. "You haven't another drink +around, have you?" he inquired. He still held his handkerchief to his +wounded forehead. "That was a rather nasty one I got, you know."</p> + +<p>Gilbert, though he loathed him as a serpent, remembered that he was this +creature's host, and stepped over to the fireplace where there was a flask +with a little tequila still left. He offered Pell the bottle.</p> + +<p>"You were saying—?" Pell went on. He poured himself a stiff drink. +"Something about leaving me, wasn't it?" It was plain to be seen that he +was bluffing. "I'm sorry," swigging down what he had poured, "but I wasn't +listening very closely. This thing here—" he tapped his wound. No one +answered him, and he set down his glass. "Well?" to his wife.</p> + +<p>She faced him with a flame in her eyes. "Had I known you, I never would +have married you. But now that I do know you, I could never live with <a name="Page_253" id="Page_253"></a>you +again. I loathe and despise you, with all the strength that is in me."</p> + +<p>"You want to leave me, eh?" He sneered as he stared at her. "And go with +him?... Won't your reputation—?"</p> + +<p>"What do I care for my reputation?" she flared. "At least I shall have my +self-respect. I never could keep that if I went back to you."</p> + +<p>"It's <i>your</i> reputation, of course," Pell smiled. "You can do as you like +with it." He turned fully toward her. "All right, I've no objection."</p> + +<p>"You're lying," Gilbert affirmed.</p> + +<p>Pell's tongue rolled round in his cheek. "I don't blame you for thinking +so. <i>You</i> haven't been shot to-day. You should try it sometime. It changes +one's viewpoint surprisingly." His voice seemed to lose its hardness for a +moment; there was a note of self-pity in it.</p> + +<p>"But you said—" Gilbert began.</p> + +<p>Pell's whole manner changed, and the look of a wounded animal came into his +eyes. "A man says many things in anger that he doesn't mean," was his own +extenuation. "Haven't you ever made the same mistake yourself, Jones? I'm +sure you have. There's no use getting excited." He put up a hand. "Here we +are, we three. She is my wife. But she <a name="Page_254" id="Page_254"></a>doesn't love me, nor do I love her. +She does love you. What is the best way out for all of us?"</p> + +<p>A new Morgan Pell! They could scarcely believe the metamorphosis.</p> + +<p>"You'd give her up?" Gilbert said.</p> + +<p>The other looked down, and the point of his boot drew a little ring on the +floor. "I can't hold her," he said, "if she doesn't want to be held, can +I?"</p> + +<p>"You don't intend—"</p> + +<p>"To fight you?" Pell looked him squarely in the eye. "I do not. I've had +all the fighting I want for one day. Now, my own course is simple. I have +merely to go back to New York and forget that either of you ever existed. +But your problem is more difficult. It's after eight. You've lost the +ranch. And you have no money."</p> + +<p>"But I can earn money," Gilbert said.</p> + +<p>"A hundred dollars a month punching cows? With her in a boarding-house in +Bisbee? A nice life, isn't it? Do you care to think of it, both of you?"</p> + +<p>"I can take care of her," Gilbert was quick in saying.</p> + +<p>"With your friend, Lopez—if he escapes—become a professional killer. My +dear chap, you forget. She's used to decent people. It makes all <a name="Page_255" id="Page_255"></a>the +difference in the world." Pell turned away, lest the hard look should +return to his countenance.</p> + +<p>Lucia had been listening intently. "I know him, Gil," she whispered, loud +enough for her husband to hear. "He's trying to frighten us!"</p> + +<p>Pell faced her. "Frighten you? You're wrong, my dear. I'm merely trying to +help you. That's all."</p> + +<p>There was a step on the path—another step. Several people were approaching +the adobe. Without ceremony, the door was thrust open, and Bradley was +before them, excitement in his eyes. He came into the room and dim figures +could be seen behind him. Was that Lopez tied up, with his back to them in +the darkness? His shoulders were bent over, his hat was pulled down over +his brow. His hair was matted, and two Mexicans stood guard on either side +of him. Far away the stars twinkled, unmindful of his plight.</p> + +<p>"Got any water?" Bradley asked.</p> + +<p>"Lopez!" Pell exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"He's got him!" came from Gilbert.</p> + +<p>Lucia grew paler still. "Lopez! Captured!" she cried. "Oh!" And she hid her +face in her hands. What a few brief hours could bring!</p> + +<p>Bradley came close to her. "And a fine day's <a name="Page_256" id="Page_256"></a>work for us, lady," he said, +triumph in his tone. "We got him at last." Then, in the light of the +candle, he caught a good view of Pell. "Say, I thought you was dead!" he +cried.</p> + +<p>"I was," laughed the other. "I mean—only a scalp wound." And he pointed to +the mark on his forehead.</p> + +<p>The figure at the door, piteous in its helplessness, never moved, never +turned.</p> + +<p>"Give me that water," Bradley continued. "I want to get him in alive if I +can. All the more credit to me and my men, you see."</p> + +<p>Morgan Pell had taken the canteen down from the wall and poured some water +in it. Now he handed it to Bradley. "There you are," he said.</p> + +<p>"Thanks," the ranger said. He went back to the door, and pushed the jug to +the lips of his prisoner. "Take a swig o' that." Lopez did so. His +humiliation was evident even in his back. And only a little while ago he +had been the monarch of all he surveyed! Now he was the slave of Bradley, +and must ride, hand-cuffed, to the jail a few miles away.</p> + +<p>"He's wounded," said Lucia, going to the door. "You can't take him—like +that!" she exclaimed. She longed for Lopez to turn and look at her; yet she +longed, oddly enough, that he would not do so <a name="Page_257" id="Page_257"></a>in the next second. It would +be as difficult for her, as for him, if they saw each other. Her heart went +out to him—this friend of Gilbert's—and hers.</p> + +<p>Bradley hated this show of feminine weakness. "Why can't I take him like +that? Do you think I'm going to nurse an invalid like him around these +parts?" He took the canteen from one of his men. "Here," he said, handing +it back to Pell.</p> + +<p>"That's all right. Keep it; you may need it later on," said Pell, as though +the jug were his to give away.</p> + +<p>"Much obliged," the ranger thanked him, nothing loath. "Come on, Bloke. +Good-night. We got him!"</p> + +<p>He gave the bandit a shove, and two other rangers grasped him by either +arm. In a twinkling they were gone, had mounted their horses and were +galloping away in the starlight.</p> + +<p>So everything was over and done with! Lucia was heart-broken for Lopez. She +came back into the room, murmuring:</p> + +<p>"Lopez! Lopez captured!" There were tears in her eyes.</p> + +<p>Pell paced the room with new strength. His eyes were now sinister.</p> + +<p>"Fortunately for us, my dear," he said. "For <a name="Page_258" id="Page_258"></a>now we are certain not to be +disturbed while working out a sensible solution of our little problem." He +had forgotten the pain in his head. He lighted a cigarette, casually, +slowly. "You will of course sue for divorce," he went on, blowing a ring to +the ceiling and watching it ascend. "But there'll be no difficulty about +that. I shall not contest," he added magnanimously.</p> + +<p>She grasped at the straw. "You won't?" She almost believed him now.</p> + +<p>"You'd win, anyway," her husband said. "But there <i>is</i> the question of +alimony."</p> + +<p>Gilbert swerved about. He detested the word. "Alimony!" he cried.</p> + +<p>"An attractive woman never gets the worst of it in court," Pell coldly +stated. "Suppose we settle that—right here and now. It will give you ready +money. And it will save me from having to pay perhaps a greater sum—later. +That is...."</p> + +<p>Gilbert was incensed. "We don't want your money!" he cried. And Lucia +treated the suggestion with the scorn it deserved.</p> + +<p>Pell looked at them both. "No? Well, in that case, I suppose there's +nothing more to be said."</p> + +<p>"And we are free to go?" Lucia cried, unbelieving.</p><p><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259"></a></p> + +<p>Her husband puffed again. "Why not? I know I shan't stop you." Suddenly he +dropped his cigarette, leaned heavily against the table, swayed a bit, and +put his hand to his head. The old pain was returning.</p> + +<p>"You're suffering?" Lucia asked, alarmed. A strange pallor had come over +him.</p> + +<p>"I regret—that water—I gave away so liberally," Pell said, his voice +weak.</p> + +<p>"There's more," Gilbert cried. "I'll get it." He went hurriedly to the +kitchen.</p> + +<p>"Is there anything I can do for you?" Lucia asked, sympathy in her tone. +Always with her was the womanly instinct to serve, to help. Morgan was like +a wounded animal to her, and as deserving of attention as any hurt thing.</p> + +<p>"No, thank you," he said.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'm sorry! I ..."</p> + +<p>Gilbert was back with another canteen. He went close to Pell and put the +jug to his lips, standing by his side, leaning over to proffer the cooling +water. As he did so, Pell stealthily reached out—Lucia could not see the +movement, for she had gone over to the fireplace—and craftily removed +Gilbert's gun from his hip-pocket. While in the very act of taking this +man's sustenance, he was <a name="Page_260" id="Page_260"></a>playing him a foul trick. His heart lost a beat +at the easy success of his plan, the fulfillment of a wish he had been +harboring for the last ten minutes. He thrust the canteen away, stood up +suddenly, and pointed the stolen weapon straight at Jones.</p> + +<p>"Now, I've got you just where I want you!" he snarled.</p> + +<p>Lucia saw his base trickery. Why had she been so stupid as to believe in +him again? Why had she not warned Gilbert? What fools they had both been!</p> + +<p>"Gil!" she cried out; and anguish was hers—a deep, horrible moment of +suffering. It was all up with them. They were as helpless as Pell had been +with the bandit a few hours before. Caught, ensnared, trapped!</p> + +<p>"Why, damn you!" Gilbert screamed, and made a futile lunge for Pell. But he +was too late. The revolver was leveled at his head.</p> + +<p>"Make a fool out of me, will you, you s——" Pell said, and his eyes +glittered. A snake never looked more venomous. "I've got you now—got you +both, and by God—"</p> + +<p>"He means it, Gil!" Lucia cried, and threw herself into her lover's arms. +She would die, if he died—she would die with him.</p><p><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261"></a></p> + +<p>Pell stepped nearer to his intended victim. "Our wife is right," he +scoffed. "It isn't killing that I mind—it's being killed that I object +to."</p> + +<p>"They'll hang you!" Gilbert warned.</p> + +<p>Pell smiled his sardonic, evil smile. "The unwritten law works in Arizona +as well as in other places." He brutally ordered Lucia to get out of his +way.</p> + +<p>But Lucia still clung to Gilbert. "I won't! I won't move!" she yelled, and +her voice held the desperation of womankind.</p> + +<p>Deliberately Pell said: "All right! Then take what's coming to you and you +go to hell together, damn you both!"</p> + +<p>He raised the gun and aimed a deadly aim.</p> + +<p>Gilbert, in that mad moment, threw Lucia aside, to save her. He could not +let her die with him, much as he hated to leave her with this fiend +incarnate. "You'd better shoot straight," he cried to Pell. "Because, by +God, if you miss...." With one wild lunge, he knocked the lamp from the +table between them, and there was instant and terrible darkness.</p> + +<p>Confused, Pell did not know what to do. His tongue was cleaving to the roof +of his mouth, his hand seemed to freeze on the trigger.</p><p><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262"></a></p> + +<p>"What the devil!" he called out. And then a figure appeared miraculously in +the alcove, where one candle still burned, shedding a ghostly beam of light +from a shelf. "Good God!"</p> + +<p>A shot rang out. But it was not Pell's revolver from which it sped. Morgan +Pell crumpled at the feet of Gilbert, and the bandit rushed in, the smoke +still coming from his gun.</p> + +<p>"Santa Maria del Rio de Guadaloupe!" he cried. "'Ow many time I got for to +kill you to-day, any'ow? Now, damn to 'ell, mebbe you stay dead a while, +eh?" He looked down at the shriveled form. And as of old he called to his +henchman, "Pedro!"</p> + +<p>And Pedro was there. "<i>Si!</i>" he said.</p> + +<p>"Did I not tell you for kill zis man?" said Lopez, pointing in disgust to +Morgan Pell.</p> + +<p>Swiftly in Spanish, and frightened almost out of his wits, poor Pedro +muttered something wholly unintelligible.</p> + +<p>"Ees bum shooting! If she 'appen some more, zen I 'ave for get new Pedro. +Should be too bad. Especially for you. You onnerstand?"</p> + +<p>Terrified at the thought, poor Pedro simply shivered. "<i>Si</i>," he whispered.</p> + +<p>Lopez indicated Pell's body, and took out a <a name="Page_263" id="Page_263"></a>cigarette nonchalantly. "Take +'im away. Ees no use for nobody no more." Pedro started to lift the heavy +form. "Save ze clothes and ze boots," he reminded his faithful man.</p> + +<p>"<i>Si</i>," the latter said, meekly.</p> + +<p>Venustiano appeared from the outer darkness, as if by magic, and rushed to +Pedro's aid. They lifted the stricken Pell, and carried him away.</p> + +<p>The distasteful business finished, Lopez turned to Gilbert.</p> + +<p>"Now, zen, you all right some more, eh?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Gilbert could not understand. "I guess so," he said, "I—I thought you were +captured!"</p> + +<p>"Me?" said Lopez in surprise, "It is not me, ees my double!"</p> + +<p>"Your double?" Gilbert, amazed, answered.</p> + +<p>"Ees idea what I get from ze moving pitchers."</p> + +<p>Gilbert and Lucia stared at each other; then at the bandit.</p> + +<p>"Then it wasn't you they captured?" Gilbert said.</p> + +<p>He flicked the ashes from his cigarette. "I should be capture by ze damn +ranger? Ees a idea!" He roared with mirth. "No, no! Long time I 'ave fix +zat."</p><p><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264"></a></p> + +<p>"But how? How do you work it?" Gilbert inquired, his brain in a tumult.</p> + +<p>"I pick from my men ze best rider. I make 'im for look like me. So when ze +ranger wish for chase me, 'e go while I remain be'ind. It save me moch +hexercise. Say, why you no kill 'im yourself? You got ze gun." Lopez was +mystified.</p> + +<p>"I—I couldn't," Gilbert answered.</p> + +<p>"Ees no difference from us three—me, you, and 'im," Lopez explained. "You +is afraid for kill. 'E was afraid for die. Me, I am afraid for neizer! Now +zen, what you do, eh?" He patted Gilbert on the shoulder.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," the young man said. "We've got to go somewhere."</p> + +<p>Lopez was firm. "No. You shall stay right 'ere in your 'ome sweet 'ome."</p> + +<p>"But I've lost the place." He pointed to the little clock that was ticking +out its relentless minutes. "It's after eight o'clock."</p> + +<p>"No," said Lopez, definitely. "For at 'alf-past six-thirty, what I do? I +tell you. When I am chase by ze ranger what I follow, I sink for myself +eight o'clock she soon come. Suppose moggidge of my frands he meet wiz +accident? Would never do!" He waved his arms. "So I <a name="Page_265" id="Page_265"></a>goes and pays 'er +myself!" He handed Gilbert a paper.</p> + +<p>Gilbert could not believe his eyes. "What's that?" he wanted to know.</p> + +<p>"Ees recipe," Lopez affirmed.</p> + +<p>"But where did you get the money?" Gilbert asked, incredulously.</p> + +<p>Lopez winked. "Ees all right."</p> + +<p>"Where did you get it?" the American persisted.</p> + +<p>"I rob ze bank," said Lopez; and thought nothing more of it.</p> + +<p>"Robbed the bank?" Gilbert was wide-eyed now.</p> + +<p>"Sure! Ees what I go to town for."</p> + +<p>Jones turned away. "It's all off again!"</p> + +<p>The bandit was discouraged. "No! I am become business man what are tired +myself! I take ze money to lawyer what are frand for me. 'E go to ze judge +what 'ave come 'ome planty dronk. 'E tell ze judge you send 'im for pay ze +moggidge. Judge say sure, and 'and 'im recipe. Ees all right." And the +bandit, convinced of his logic, strutted to the fireplace, and threw his +cigarette away.</p> + +<p>"But I—must pay him back," Gilbert wanted to make it clear.</p> + +<p>"I 'ave planty money. You mus' not worry, <a name="Page_266" id="Page_266"></a>my frand. I give you ten sousand +dollar which you can send back should you be so foolish."</p> + +<p>But Gilbert was obdurate. "I can pay it back. The oil—"</p> + +<p>"I am sorry. Zere is no oil," the bandit informed him.</p> + +<p>This was the consummating blow to the young man. "But you said—"</p> + +<p>"I tell you one damn big lie," Lopez laughed. "But 'as she not a million +dollar from ze 'usband which I kill?" He nodded toward Lucia.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" cried she. "How can you speak of such things—now?"</p> + +<p>"You don't think we'd touch one penny of that, do you?" Gilbert followed +up.</p> + +<p>Lopez looked puzzled. "Ze law is give it to you."</p> + +<p>Disgustedly Gilbert cried, "The Law!"</p> + +<p>"Ha!" The bandit saw his chance. "Is it possible all ze law what you love +is not so damn wise, after all?" He was tickled at his own perspicacity. +"However, it makes no never mind. You shall still be rich any'ow. I shall +send back all ze cattle what I steal from you."</p> + +<p>"You will? That's generous, to say the least." And Jones couldn't help +smiling.</p><p><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267"></a></p> + +<p>"And planty more what I shall steal for you myself personal. Now zen, is +all right? You 'ave ze money, ze lady, everyzing." Surely there was nothing +lacking, Lopez tried to make it plain, for complete happiness. There were +no bars now in the path of content.</p> + +<p>Yet this stupid young American was asking questions still! "But have I +everything?" he said, and, stooping, picked up the gun that Pell had +dropped just before he was killed.</p> + +<p>Lopez was amazed. "Have you?" he said, and pointed to Lucia. "There is it!"</p> + +<p>"But is it all right?" the young man persisted.</p> + +<p>A look of scorn came over the face of the bandit. "If it makes you 'appy, +what you care? You should not look ze gift 'appiness in ze face. Go on, +take her. Ees nice; you like 'er."</p> + +<p>Still Gilbert hesitated. "But I can't now."</p> + +<p>"And why not?" the bandit asked. He was thoroughly weary of Gilbert's +dilly-dallying, so foreign to his own philosophy.</p> + +<p>"Maybe sometime. By and bye; but not now."</p> + +<p>"If she is all right by and bye, why the 'ell is she all wrong now?" cried +Lopez, incensed.</p> + +<p>"You're not as sorry as I am. God knows, I want her."</p><p><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268"></a></p> + +<p>Lopez was desperate by this time. "<i>Dios!</i>" he fairly yelled. "You +Americanos make me seek! I shall come 'ere and work like 'ell all day to +make you 'appy, and the best I get is zis!" In his despair, he broke into +Spanish: "<i>Per dios mio!</i>" Stupidity could go no farther! What fools these +youngsters were!</p> + +<p>"I don't mean to be ungrateful," Gilbert explained.</p> + +<p>There was silence for a moment. Lopez strode up and down the room like an +animal. He was hot and disgusted. What was the use, after all? Why didn't +this young fellow, who had proved himself so brave and so worthy, show +signs of the red blood in him? No Mexican would have acted like this—no +Latin. He would make him get his happiness, if he had to die in the +attempt. Suddenly a crafty look came into his eyes. He came straight toward +Gilbert and snapped his fingers in his face.</p> + +<p>"Bah!" he cried.</p> + +<p>But all the young ranchman said was, "I'm sorry. You don't understand our +ways."</p> + +<p>"Shut up!" Lopez was genuinely infuriated now. "Ees no use for talk wiz +such fools. You make me seek! Such ideas! Not fit for ze child to 'ave! No +<a name="Page_269" id="Page_269"></a>blood, no courage! Only ze liver what are white and ze soul what are +yellow." Gilbert winced at the word. "Americans! Bah! Fishes! Zat is all! +Fishes what ees poor! Bah! For you I am finish!" And he snapped his fingers +again. His face was purple with rage.</p> + +<p>He heard Gilbert murmuring only, "I'm sorry!"</p> + +<p>"Sorry! Ees all you can say—sorry! Ze coward! Ze fool! Ze fish what are +poor! Ze damn doormat for everybody to walk from!" His arms were flying in +the air. "All day I 'ave try to make ze man from you! It are no use. Ees no +man in you. Only ze damn fool what are sorry! Bah! All right. You will not +let me make you 'appy? <i>Bueno!</i> Zen I shall go back and make you on'appy +and serve you damn good right!" He pointed to Lucia. "You will not take +'er?"</p> + +<p>Gilbert had stood still during this tirade. "I've tried to explain—" he +began once more.</p> + +<p>"Bah!" cried Lopez. "Zen I take her!"</p> + +<p>At last the American was roused. "You take her!" he cried.</p> + +<p>"Sure! All day I 'ave want 'er. Ees ze first time in my life when I want +woman all day and not—as favor I give 'er to you. Now, since you too big +damn fool not to take 'er yourself, I take<a name="Page_270" id="Page_270"></a> 'er myself. And what you know +about 'im?" He paused, and called out, "Pedro!"</p> + +<p>Fearful at what might happen, Gilbert said, "Wait a minute." He thought +swiftly. "You mean this?"</p> + +<p>Lopez did not even answer him, so deep and abiding was his disgust. +Instead, he said to his man, "Pedro, we go."</p> + +<p>Gilbert watched his every motion. "You mean it?" he repeated.</p> + +<p>Lopez laughed. "Everybody sink I am joker to-day. Pedro, take 'er," and +nodded toward the terrified Lucia.</p> + +<p>Pedro started to obey.</p> + +<p>"I'm damned if you do!" cried Gilbert. "All day you've been trying to make +me do things your way. I've had enough. This Mexican stuff may be all right +in your country, but it won't go here!"</p> + +<p>He threw a protecting arm around Lucia, who was panting and pale. He pulled +his gun, and aimed it at Pedro's head. "Drop it!" he cried. Pedro obeyed +like lightning. The gun fell to the floor with a vibrating crash.</p> + +<p>Then Gilbert covered Lopez. "If this is a trick—" he cried.</p> + +<p>"Trick for what?" the bandit wanted to know.<a name="Page_271" id="Page_271"></a> He nodded to Pedro. "Get ze +men. 'E will not shoot!"</p> + +<p>Enraged beyond control, young Jones cried out: "For the last time! You mean +it? I know what you've tried to do, and I'm grateful; but there's one thing +that I must do!" Still the gun was leveled at the bandit's head.</p> + +<p>"What's that?" nonchalantly.</p> + +<p>"Protect her!" Gilbert said, drawing Lucia closer to his heart.</p> + +<p>Lopez smiled again. "You will not shoot."</p> + +<p>"I will—if I must!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, ze wolf in ze sheep's overcoat!" the bandit smirked.</p> + +<p>"I will! I warn you!"</p> + +<p>"Gil!" cried Lucia, in mortal terror.</p> + +<p>"It's your life or his, and I'm damned if it's yours! I'll give you just +three seconds to get out of here! Now," and there was a fire in his eyes +that could deceive no one, "you hear me? One—two ..."</p> + +<p>"Don't shoot!" cried the bandit. And he laughed outright, almost doubling +up with mirth.</p> + +<p>"It was a trick?" Gilbert asked, beginning to see light.</p> + +<p>"<i>Si.</i> Ah, my frand, I 'ave make ze man from <a name="Page_272" id="Page_272"></a>you at last! Fine man what +would kill for 'is woman!" He patted him on the shoulder.</p> + +<p>Gilbert looked at him seriously, and the terrible realization came to him. +"I <i>would</i> have killed you! Yes, I <i>would</i> have killed you—and you are my +friend!"</p> + +<p>Lopez saw how earnest he was. "I know. And it makes me very 'appy. For at +last you 'ave became ze man of intelligence—like me. You could not leave +'er go now, could you?"</p> + +<p>Gilbert looked at the relieved Lucia. "No!" he cried.</p> + +<p>"You not question ze what you call Destiny, do you?" Lopez said.</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Zen for you I am Destiny, to beat 'ell!" He walked toward the door.</p> + +<p>There was a whistle outside. Pedro had drifted into the night. The stars +poured their miracle of beauty into the room as Pancho Lopez flung the door +wide.</p> + +<p>"Well, no more of zat!" he said. "I must go—to leave you to live and love! +No, you shall not zank me," as Gilbert started to speak. "Ees I shall zank +you, for 'ere in your quiet 'ome you 'ave give me ze most peaceful day I +'ave spend<a name="Page_273" id="Page_273"></a> in years." He smiled his captivating smile, and for the first +time took his sombrero from his head. He made a grand gesture. "Ees 'appy +day for you. Ees 'appy day for 'er. Ees 'appy day for me!"</p> + +<p>He made a very low bow. Then he stepped forward and touched Lucia on the +arm, and led her to Gilbert. One hand was on the shoulder of each.</p> + +<p>"You will name ze baby for me sometime—Pancho, or per'aps Panchita?" There +was a wistful note in his deep voice, and a look of eagerness in his eyes. +"Not ze first one, per'aps—but mebbe, like you say, by and bye—later? +Eh?"</p> + +<p>There was another whistle down the starlit road.</p> + +<p>"<i>Adios</i>, my frands! And may you always be so 'appy like what I 'ave make +you!"</p> + +<p>He was gone. They heard the horses trotting away; and even in that moment +of blinding and almost unendurable happiness, they were conscious of a +tinge of sorrow.</p> + +<p>For when would they ever see Pancho Lopez again?</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274"></a></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<h4>WHEREIN AN OLD FRIEND RETURNS, AND THERE IS A JOYFUL REUNION</h4> + + +<p>On a wonderful afternoon, more than two years later, Lucia sat in the +little Spanish courtyard that Gilbert had had built a few months after +their marriage. The air was like golden wine, and she drank it in, bathed +her soul in it, as though she could never find enough joy through these +slow hours. How marvelous life had been to her in the last radiant months! +She had realized the fulfillment of her most cherished dream, and looked +down now at a tiny pink face that smiled at her.</p> + +<p>"Oh, how sweet you are, Pancho!" she was saying. "I don't know what I ever +did without you!" And she kissed the baby's cheek, which instantly took on +a rosy hue.</p> + +<p>There is an ecstasy that is close to tears; and in the happiness that Lucia +had now found she was <a name="Page_275" id="Page_275"></a>experiencing that high state of spiritual exaltation +which made life almost unbearably beautiful. The autumn day itself, warm +and glowing, was like a low fire on the hearth, toward which she stretched +her hands. But there was a spiritual fire within her which needed no +outward symbol; a flame that leaped and burned steadily.</p> + +<p>Far off she heard the chug of a motor—not the Ford now, but a big +touring-car that glistened in the sun. She knew that Gilbert would be +returning from Bisbee at just about this hour, and she could hardly wait to +see him turn in.</p> + +<p>"Here's your daddy, Pancho!" she cried, when the car swung from the road, +and Gilbert, hatless and sun-burned, leaped from the machine with all the +eagerness of a great healthy boy.</p> + +<p>He ran to his little family and kissed them both. "Gosh! but you look +lovely, Lucia, my dear!" he exclaimed, standing back a bit so that he could +have even a better view of her rosy cheeks, flashing eyes, and blowing +hair. "This autumn weather agrees with you, doesn't it? And Pancho—he +looks better than any baby around here—even Angela's."</p> + +<p>He dropped down on the seat beside her, and looked with rapture at the +child in her arms.</p><p><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276"></a></p> + +<p>"Sold ten head of cattle this morning, and Montrose says he'll take as many +more when I'm ready for him. Great, isn't it? 'Red' been over to-day?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," answered Lucia; "and he said he was going to bring Angela and +Panchita for an early supper. Says it's awful the way they've neglected us. +We haven't seen them for two whole days, you know!"</p> + +<p>They both laughed.</p> + +<p>"Well, of course old 'Red' has more to do now that Jasper Hardy's dead; but +after all, he can hire all the men he needs. Guess it's more a question of +his wanting to stay around Angy and the kid, don't you think so?"</p> + +<p>"He tries so hard to imitate you in everything. It makes me ache to see how +happy he is, Gil. Aren't they the cutest couple you ever saw? And won't it +be nice when Pancho and Panchita are old enough to play together?"</p> + +<p>"You bet!" Gilbert agreed. He looked off at the quiet mountains, steadfast +in their serenity, their crests seeming to kiss the sky. This <i>was</i> God's +country, after all. Sometimes he could not believe that he had come so +gloriously into his own. In the slow process of putting his ranch on a +paying basis, after the turmoil of those weeks following the <a name="Page_277" id="Page_277"></a>departure of +Lopez, he had had the sustaining wonder of Lucia always beside him; and +when little Pancho came upon the scene he felt that life was altogether too +kind to him. He had worked unremittingly; and not only had he had his own +affairs to absorb him, but "Red," after his marriage to Angela, was forever +ringing him up on the telephone, or coming over and asking his advice and +help. He was never too busy to throw out a word to his faithful friend; +indeed, they had reached a coöperative basis so far as the two properties +were concerned, and the arrangement could not have worked out better. The +ranches touched each other, and after Jasper Hardy's death a year and a +half before, it seemed wise to form a sort of partnership. There was no +need of a written understanding; the two men simply said to each other that +they would do certain things, install certain improvements, and share +expenses and profits. Nothing on paper for them! No, siree, said "Red." He +wouldn't hear of it. And everything had been as amicable as possible.</p> + +<p>It was curious to see the change in Uncle Henry since the arrival of little +Pancho. Gilbert got him a brand-new wheel chair—sent all the way to +Phœnix for it—to celebrate the great event; and<a name="Page_278" id="Page_278"></a> Uncle Henry loved +nothing better than to take the chap on his knee and give him a ride in the +courtyard whenever Lucia would trust him to his care. He never complained +now. He was deliriously happy, and with the new era of prosperity that had +struck the household, he was given a Mexican boy as his own personal +attendant, and he grew to take a kindly interest in him. He taught him to +read and write English. Thus busily occupied, and loving Lucia because she +loved his nephew so, his health improved, as well as his temper. He could +even tolerate "Red's" harmonica; in fact, he often begged him to play it +when the latter came over to midday dinner, and his legs had so improved +that he could actually jiggle them to some merry tune.</p> + +<p>"If you don't look out, you'll be dancin' soon!" "Red" used to say on these +happy occasions. "You can shimmy now!"</p> + +<p>"Shet your head!" Uncle Henry cried; but not angrily—not now. He laughed +when he said it, and was secretly flattered that anyone thought he had such +pep at his age and in his condition of semi-invalidism (for that is all it +could be called now).</p> + +<p>It was five o'clock when the Giddings family <a name="Page_279" id="Page_279"></a>came. They used the faithful +little Ford for the short run; but they too had a big roadster, painted a +flaming red, "to match the master's hair," Mrs. Quinn put it.</p> + +<p>Angela, radiant in her motherhood, instantly compared notes with Lucia as +to infant symptoms—not that anything was the matter with either child; but +she loved to be ready for any emergency, and had a natural fear that +Panchita might be taken ill in the night sometime; and was everything in +her home medicine-chest, that should be?</p> + +<p>Uncle Henry begged to take both children on his lap; and, holding them +firmly, he made his boy push the chair here and there, got "Red" to play +the once detested harmonica, and had a gay time of it all around the ranch +house.</p> + +<p>"We'd better eat indoors this afternoon," Lucia said. "I was going to +spread the table under the pergola; but it may turn cooler."</p> + +<p>It was not long before they were all seated at an extended table in the big +living-room—that same room which had been the scene of tragedy and +suffering for them, but was now so filled with joy.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Quinn sent over the cake," Lucia announced, as the table-boy brought +in a huge dish, on which was a chocolate cake of magnificent <a name="Page_280" id="Page_280"></a>proportions. +It looked—and was—as light as a feather; a work of art to be proud of.</p> + +<p>"Just like her, eh?" said "Red." "What would we do without Mrs. Quinn, the +queen of 'em all!"</p> + +<p>"That's what I say," Uncle Henry declared. He could hardly wait to get to +the cake, for he knew what toothsome dainties the Irishwoman could cause to +emerge from her oven; and often she sent him this or that sweet, "just to +let 'im know she was livin' an' breathin'."</p> + +<p>Suddenly there came a sound of hoof beats on the road; and through the open +door, outlined against the flaming sunset, Gilbert could see two horsemen +approaching, with pointed hats, and glistening buttons.</p> + +<p>"Mexicans!" he cried. "What can they be doing here, now?" His mind rushed +back to that terrible evening so long ago when Lopez had ridden up to the +adobe, and changed the world for them all in almost the twinkling of an +eye.</p> + +<p>He got up from the table now, and "Red" followed him. Dusk was just +descending, but Gilbert's sharp eyes recognized the first horseman even in +the dimming light.</p> + +<p>"It's Pancho Lopez!" he cried.</p> + +<p>And sure enough, on a steed that looked like<a name="Page_281" id="Page_281"></a> Sunday afternoon, with +brand-new reins and bit, and in a suit that fit him to perfection, with +gleaming spurs and shining buttons, the rakish and indomitable Pancho, his +long-lost friend, returned to greet him. He could scarcely believe it. For +since that memorable night when he had left them, to return to the interior +of Mexico, never a word had he had from him. Meantime, the great happiness +had come to him; and when the baby came into the world, he and Lucia had +not forgotten the man who had been responsible for their joy. With one +accord they named the boy Pancho. There was not the slightest doubt but +that should be what he should be called. The only tragedy was that they had +no way of letting the bandit know what they had done. Where was he? They +did not know. When, if ever, would he return? They had no way of finding +out. There was but one thing to do—wait. And they did. But often Gilbert +had said to Lucia, "He has forgotten us, though we have never forgotten +him—our friend."</p> + +<p>Now, in the quiet, brooding autumn dusk he came to their doorstep, +dismounted, lifted his hat, smiled that wonderful smile of his, and made a +bow that any courtier might have been proud to make. Behind him, on a brown +horse, was Pedro, his <a name="Page_282" id="Page_282"></a>lieutenant—the same monosyllabic Pedro, faithful +unto death, and now as clean as a whistle.</p> + +<p>"Ah! my frand!" Pancho said, as he bowed again, "How glad am I to see you. +You glad to see me, too, eh?"</p> + +<p>Lucia also had come to the door; likewise Angela—but the latter was still +a bit timid. Even Uncle Henry pushed his way to the sill, and sat like a +lonely man in a gallery while those in the orchestra pressed about their +favorite actor.</p> + +<p>"Glad?" exclaimed Gilbert. "I could kiss you, Pancho! But where on earth +have you been? Come in, and tell us everything."</p> + +<p>He needed no urging. "Hongry as beeg bear!" he told them.</p> + +<p>"Then sit right down," Lucia said, "There's plenty—far more than the last +time you were here!" And they all laughed.</p> + +<p>He came into the room, while Pedro took care of the horses.</p> + +<p>"Hallo, Oncle Hennery," he greeted the old man in the wheel chair. "You +look splendid! And 'allo, 'Red,'—zat's what zey call you—yes?" Then he +saw the babies, and his eyes fairly popped from his head, "Well, well!" he +cried, "Who 'ave zese leetle fellers!"</p><p><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283"></a></p> + +<p>"They're not both fellers!" Angela made bold to say. "One's a girl—that +one! She's mine!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, ho! Leetle spitfire still!" Pancho laughed. He chucked her under her +pretty chin. "So you marry ze man I pick for you, eh? Good! An' +zis"—pointing to the baby—"zis ees better yet!"</p> + +<p>"Look at mine!" the proud Lucia couldn't help saying. "Isn't he the image +of his father?"</p> + +<p>She held him up, and Lopez took his little hand in his. "Yes, I see what +you mean," he said, carefully looking at the child. "Hees father's +eyes—but not so much hair! What you call heem?"</p> + +<p>"Guess!" said Gilbert.</p> + +<p>"Could not," the Mexican answered.</p> + +<p>"Only one guess!" Lucia begged.</p> + +<p>"Could not t'ink," Lopez insisted.</p> + +<p>"Well, then—you tell him, Gilbert," the mother said, turning to her +husband.</p> + +<p>"There could be only one name in all the world for that youngster," Gilbert +said, and put his hand affectionately on his old friend's shoulder. "You +ought to know it as well as I. Of course his name is—Pancho!"</p> + +<p>The smile that came over the Mexican's face was beautiful to see. And was +that the suggestion of a tear in his eye?</p><p><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284"></a></p> + +<p>Long and long, and while everybody in the room remained perfectly still, he +looked at the baby, whose tiny hands bobbed up and down—a fat, healthy +youngster, fit as a fiddle, laughing, squirming, happy.</p> + +<p>"For me you name him?" Lopez finally got out. "Oh, too good you are to me. +Pancho! my own leetle boy! Pancho! 'Some' name, what you say, eh?"</p> + +<p>And he pinched the child's cheek, tenderly as his mother would have done.</p> + +<p>"And here's mine!" Angela, not to be outdone, piped up, presenting her +child, also in her arms, to the delirious bandit.</p> + +<p>"An' what heez name?"</p> + +<p>"It ain't a he—it's a she, I told you!" Angela corrected.</p> + +<p>"Ah! All kinds you 'ave 'ere, eh? Good! An' what <i>'er</i> name?"</p> + +<p>"Can't you guess?" asked "Red," coming forward, smiling.</p> + +<p>"A girl? What use I 'ave for girls?" laughed Pancho Lopez. "What you say +now—what's ze name?"</p> + +<p>"Why, Panchita! What else could we have named her?" Angela said.</p><p><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285"></a></p> + +<p>You could have knocked the Mexican down with a straw. This time he was +flabbergasted.</p> + +<p>"You all too fine, too tender, too good to me," he said; and there was a +softness in his speech that none of them had guessed could be there, save, +perhaps, Gilbert.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," Jones said. "We wanted a little Mexican touch in our households. +And we've never forgotten you, old friend. Tell me, where have you been all +these months? We hoped to hear from you. But never a word or a sign from +you. Aren't you just a little ashamed of yourself now, when you see how +much we have been thinking of you?"</p> + +<p>Lopez hung his head. "Yes, my frand, I <i>am</i> ashamed." Then he looked around +at all of them. "I love you very much. I dream of you often, an' I say to +myself. 'Some day I go back there, an' see my old frands which I make so +'appy.' But I bandit no more, an' travel I hate in trains. I reform. I +settle down in Mexico City. I 'ave baby too, an' good wife, good mother. +But I get 'omesick, 'ow you say, for you all, an' so I come down for what +you call 'oliday, an'—'ere I am! You 'ave made me very 'appy to-night. I +love you all even more seence I see <a name="Page_286" id="Page_286"></a>zese cheeldrens. <i>Madre Dio!</i> How fine +to 'ave cheeldren!"</p> + +<p>"Ain't we ever goin' to finish our supper?" Uncle Henry wanted to know; but +his tone was not querulous; it was plaintively sweet, and it held a note of +invitation for everyone.</p> + +<p>Laughing, they all sat down, but not before Pedro had been asked in. The +frightened cook—the same who had been drunk that fatal evening when Pancho +first arrived—scurried here and there, eager to serve the distinguished +guest.</p> + +<p>"You all right!" Lopez told him. "Never fear, so long as you bring me good +'ot coffee!"</p> + +<p>And, happy as the babies, they all fell to; and it was Pancho himself who +was asked to cut Mrs. Quinn's big cake.</p> + +<p>"First time I use a knife in long while!" he laughed, as he stood up to the +job. "Now we all eat much; an' mebbe give some to leetle Pancho and +Panchita too, eh?"</p> + + +<p>THE END</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288"></a></p> +<h2><a name="A_Selection_from_the_Catalogue_of" id="A_Selection_from_the_Catalogue_of"></a><i>A Selection from the Catalogue of</i></h2> + +<p>G.P. PUTNAM'S SONS</p> + +<p>Complete Catalogues sent on application</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290"></a>THE STRANGENESS OF NOEL CARTON</p> + +<p>By</p> + +<p>WILLIAM CAINE</p> + + +<p>Noel Carton, driven to desperation by his vulgar little wife who, in buying +his position, is forced to accept him with it, determines to bury himself +in the writing of a novel, in the vain hope of forgetting. At the same time +he elects to keep a secret journal. In his novel he subconsciously draws +the portraits of the living people surrounding him.</p> + +<p>How this novel becomes inextricably entangled with his own journal is the +basis for this extraordinarily original story which leads to an astounding +climax.</p> + +<p>G.P. PUTNAM'S SONS</p> + +<p>New York London</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291"></a>The Night Horseman</p> + +<p><i>A Tale of Wild-riding Herdsmen and Outlaws, and their Deeds of Daring and +Deviltry</i></p> + +<p>By</p> + +<p>Max Brand</p> + + +<p>A well-known English critic said of <i>The Untamed</i>—"There are in it +passages of extraordinary power—the whole conception is very bold." And no +less bold nor less powerful is its sequel <i>The Night Horseman</i>. Once again +we ride in company with "Whistlin' Dan," the fearless, silent, mysterious +chap who shares the instincts of wild things, and once again we engage with +him in his desperate adventures, hair-breadth escapes, and whirlwind +triumphs. A novel thrilling in its reality, which will not be put down by +lovers of exciting fiction.</p> + +<p>G.P. Putnam's Sons</p> + +<p>New York London</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292"></a>WITHOUT MERCY</p> + +<p>BY</p> + +<p>JOHN GOODWIN</p> + + +<p>Mrs. Garth, a genius of finance, a personage in the social world, and head +of a great banking firm, is determined that her beautiful daughter shall +not marry Sir Melmoth Craven, of the sinister Sternberg Syndicate. He, +equally determined, and humiliated, plans revenge, not suspecting that Mrs. +Garth, under another name, heads Gordon's, Ltd., a notorious and powerful +money-lending establishment. A story full of thrilling situations and +exciting incidents.</p> + +<p>G.P. PUTNAM'S SONS</p> + +<p>New York London</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293"></a>The Door of the Unreal</p> + +<p>By</p> + +<p>Gerald Biss</p> + +<p><i>12º. Full Novel Size</i></p> + + +<p>A story of the Werewolves, made wonderfully credible and told with great +skill and feeling. This is far from being an ordinary detective novel. Mr. +Biss is on brand new ground and will puzzle every reader till the mystery +is at last solved by the right man—the mystery of the baffling murders on +the Brighton road.</p> + + +<p>G.P. Putnam's Sons</p> + +<p>New York London</p> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BAD MAN***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 16968-h.txt or 16968-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/9/6/16968">https://www.gutenberg.org/1/6/9/6/16968</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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For +example an eBook of filename 10234 would be found at: + +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/0/2/3/10234 + +or filename 24689 would be found at: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/4/6/8/24689 + +An alternative method of locating eBooks: +<a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/GUTINDEX.ALL">https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/GUTINDEX.ALL</a> + +*** END: FULL LICENSE *** +</pre> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/16968-h/images/image001.jpg b/16968-h/images/image001.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..51935c2 --- /dev/null +++ b/16968-h/images/image001.jpg diff --git a/16968-h/images/image003.jpg b/16968-h/images/image003.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c363690 --- /dev/null +++ b/16968-h/images/image003.jpg diff --git a/16968.txt b/16968.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..989b026 --- /dev/null +++ b/16968.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7577 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Bad Man, by Charles Hanson Towne + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Bad Man + + +Author: Charles Hanson Towne + + + +Release Date: October 30, 2005 [eBook #16968] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BAD MAN*** + + +E-text prepared by David Garcia, Josephine Paolucci, and the Project +Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net/) from +page images generously made available by The Kentuckiana Digital Library +(http://kdl.kyvl.org/) + + + +Note: Images of the original pages are available through the + Kentuckiana Digital Library. See + http://kdl.kyvl.org/cgi/t/text/text-idx?c=kyetexts;cc=kyetexts;xc=1&idno=B92-259-31824852&view=toc + + + + + +THE BAD MAN + +A Novel + +by + +CHARLES HANSON TOWNE + +Based on the Play by Porter Emerson Browne + + + + + + + +G. P. Putnam's Sons +New York and London +The Knickerbocker Press + +1921 + +Copyright, 1921, by G. P. Putnam's Sons +Printed in the United States of America + + + +[Illustration: HOLBROOK BLINN AS "THE BAD MAN."] + + + +To + +HOLBROOK BLINN + + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER + +I.--Wherein it is shown that a young American had the courage to come into +a new country; how fate played against him, and a neighbor looked longingly +at his ranch + +II.--Wherein, far away, another man hears whispers of the wealth along the +border, and comes down to see about it + +III.--Wherein Uncle Henry speaks his mind--as usual + +IV.--Wherein "Red" reveals his heart, and Mrs. Quinn gives him good coffee +and good advice + +V.--Wherein Gilbert Jones is worried, and Lucia Pell is asked to do an +impossible thing + +VI.--Wherein an old love awakens, Pell reveals his true colors, a mortgage +is about to be foreclosed, the contents of a satchel are made known, Uncle +Henry springs a sensation, and Pell takes an option + +VII.--Wherein Lucia sees treachery brewing, Pell proves himself a brute, +and an unexpected guest appears + +VIII.--Wherein the bandit expounds a new philosophy, and makes marionettes +of the Americans + +IX.--Wherein Uncle Henry chatters some more, there is an auction, and +things look black indeed + +X.--Wherein an old friendship comes to life, Lopez learns a thing or two, +and finally makes a match + +XI.--Wherein a man proves himself a craven, a shot rings out, and the bad +man explains one little hour + +XII.--Wherein the bad man cannot understand the good man, and disappears; +and a dead man stirs + +XIII.--Wherein an old situation seems about to be repeated, another shot is +fired, and the bad man comes back + +XIV.--Wherein an old friend returns, and there is a joyful reunion + + + + +THE BAD MAN + + + + +CHAPTER I + +WHEREIN IT IS SHOWN THAT A YOUNG AMERICAN HAD THE COURAGE TO COME INTO A +NEW COUNTRY; HOW FATE PLAYED AGAINST HIM, AND A NEIGHBOR LOOKED LONGINGLY +AT HIS RANCH + + +Looking back now, after so many months of struggle and foreboding, he +wondered how he had ever had the high courage to come to this strange +country. Had he been a few years older he would not have started forth--he +was sure of that now. But the flame of youth was in him, the sure sense +that he could conquer where others had miserably failed; and, like all +virile young Americans, he had love of adventure, and zest for the unknown +was in his blood. The glamour of Arizona lured him; the color of these +great hills and mountains he had come to love captivated him from the +first. It was as if a siren beckoned, and he had to follow. + +For days he had been worried almost to the breaking point. Things had not +shaped themselves as he had planned. Event piled upon event, and now +disaster--definite disaster--threatened to descend upon him. + +All morning, despite the intense heat, he had been about the ranch, +appraising this and that, mentally; pottering in the shed; looking at his +horses--the few that were left!--smiling at the thought of his wheezing +Ford, wondering just when he would clear out altogether. + +Not that young Gilbert Jones was a pessimist. And yet he wasn't one of +those damnable Pollyanna optimists he so abominated--the kind who went +about saying continually that God was in His heaven and all was right with +the world. No, indeed! He was just a normal, regular fellow, ready to face +a difficult situation when it came about as the natural result of a series +of events. He saw the impending catastrophe as the logical finale of many +happenings--for some of which he was not in any way responsible. + +Who could have foreseen the Great War, for instance? Surely _that_ was not +his fault! A pitiful archduke was murdered in a European city. He +remembered reading about it, and then instantly dismissing it from his mind +as of no consequence. He never connected himself with so remote an event. +Yet a few years later he, with many others, was fighting in France--a +lieutenant in the United States Army--just because a shot had been fired at +a man he had never heard of! + +A strange world, he pondered, as he looked out over the blue hills, heavy +with heat, and meandering away to God knows where. + +Then, surely it was no fault of his if the Government under which he lived +made no strenuous effort to stop the Mexican massacres of American citizens +all along the border. One firm word, one splendid gesture, and daring raids +would have ceased; and there would have been no menace of bandits +hereabouts. It would have been a country fit to live in. There would have +developed a feeling of permanence and peace, and a young chap could have +made his plans for the future with some sense of security and high +optimism. Surely they were entitled to protection--these brave boys and +stalwart sons of America who fearlessly took up claims, staked all, and +strove to make homes in this thrilling section along the borderland. They +were not mere adventurers; they were pioneers. They were of the best stuff +that America contained--clean-cut, clear-eyed, with level heads and high +hearts. Yet their own Government did not think enough of them to offer them +the sure protection they were entitled to. + +Gilbert looked back on that distant day when he had gone up to Bisbee and +purchased four head of cattle, and brought them himself to this ranch he +had purchased, happy as only a fool is happy. Within a week they had +mysteriously disappeared. + +Rumors of Mexican thieves and assassins had come to him, as they had come +to all the young land-owners along the line. He recalled how, after one +raid, in which a good citizen had been foully murdered in his bed, he had +called a meeting of the ranchers in their section, and with one voice they +agreed to send a protest to Washington. + +They did so. Nothing happened. An aching silence followed. They wrote +again; and then one day a pale acknowledgment of their communication came +in one of those long and important-looking unstamped envelopes. It seemed +very official, very impressive. But mere looks never helped any cause. They +were not naive enough to expect the Secretary of State to come down in +person and see to the mending of things. But a platoon of soldiers--a +handful of troops--would have worked wonders. Jones always contended that +not a shot would have to be fired; no more deaths on either side would be +necessary. The mere presence of a few men in uniform would have the desired +effect. The bandits, now prowling about, would slink over the invisible +border to their own territory, and never be heard of again. Of that he felt +confident. + +But no! Watchful waiting was the watchword--or the catchword. And the +eternal and infernal raids went on. + +It was while they were having their community meeting that he had come to +know Jasper Hardy and his young daughter Angela, who occupied the next +ranch, about a mile and a half south of his. Before that he had been too +busy to bother about neighbors. "Red" Giddings, his foreman, had spoken +once or twice about "some nice folks down the line," but he hadn't heard +much of what he said. There were always a hundred and one odd jobs to be +done around the place--something was forever needing attention; and when +Uncle Henry wasn't grumbling about something, he was forcing his nephew to +play checkers or cribbage or cards with him. And, working so hard all day, +he was glad to turn in early at night. Social life, therefore--unless you +could call high words with a crabbed invalid a form of social life--didn't +come within Gilbert's ken. It was work, work, work, and the desire to make +good every moment for him. + +But Hardy proved to be an aggressive fighter when the meeting took place, +and spoke in sharp tones of the Government's dilatoriness. He had come to +Arizona right after his wife's death in the East, and brought his only +daughter and a few servants with him. He seemed to have plenty of money, +and he was anxious lest the invading Mexicans should get any of it away +from him. His holdings, in the eight years since he had come to the border, +amounted to several thousand well-cultivated acres; and he looked like a +man who, when he set out to get anything, would get it. He had an +inordinate desire to grab up some more territory. Tall and thin, and +sharp-featured, as well as sharp-tongued, he resembled a hawk. It was +difficult to realize the fact that the pert and lovely little Angela--who +lived up to her name only once in a while!--was his own flesh and blood. It +was as incongruous as though a rose had grown on a beanstalk. + +On their very first meeting, Gilbert had not been pleasantly impressed with +Hardy. But he soon saw that the man had a certain rugged strength, and +there was no doubt he had suffered from the depredations of Mexico's casual +visitors, and was ready to protect not only his own interests but those of +any newcomers. He seemed to have the spirit of fair-mindedness; and he +believed firmly in the possibilities of this magic land, particularly for +young men. "It's God's country," he told Gilbert on more than one occasion. +"Get into the soil all you can. Dig--and dig deep." + +He said this over and over. It ran like a refrain through every +conversation he had with anyone. He preached the gospel of labor. And he +did work himself; there was no shadow of doubt as to that. He had struck +oil himself, and had made a goodly extra pile. Now, unknown to young Jones, +he was casting envious eyes on his ranch; and when the war came and Gilbert +went overseas in a burst of fine patriotism, and later came other +disasters, he was quick to snatch his opportunity. + +Why go to Bisbee, he told Jones, to see who would take up his mortgage? +What were neighbors for, if not to come in handy in such unpleasant +emergencies? And he laughed. + +The long and short of it was that Hardy took an option on Gilbert's +property, and held it at this very moment. It was better so, thought +Gilbert. Better to be foreclosed by a friendly neighbor, who might hesitate +to drive one out at the last moment, than under the thumb of some unknown +individual way down the valley. + +Four years of it--and he had come to this! Well, he'd take his medicine +like a man. He had done his best, and no one could do more. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +WHEREIN, FAR AWAY, ANOTHER MAN HEARS WHISPERS OF THE WEALTH ALONG THE +BORDER, AND COMES DOWN TO SEE ABOUT IT + + +Up North there was a man with a jaw like a rock, and hard, steel-gray eyes. +He had his fingers on the pulse of business, and employed agents everywhere +to serve his interests. His office in New York, in the heart of the great +financial district, was like a telephone exchange--he the central who +controlled the wires, put in and drew out the plugs, and played the +fascinating game of connecting himself with any "party" he thought worth +while. A shrewd, inveterate gambler, he was without scruples. He lived for +one purpose: to make money. For one person: Morgan Pell. + +There had been whispers concerning his methods. They were often +questionable, to say the least; but, like all men who work quietly beneath +the surface of the world of business, Pell covered up his tracks with as +much genius as he displayed in consummating a big deal. There should be no +loose ends if he was ever charged with corruption. Down in his soul he knew +he was a coward. He could not face disgrace, any more than he could face +the guns of battle. If his pillow was not always a restful one at night; if +he tossed more than he should at his age--he was but thirty-eight--no one +knew it. His conscience smote him now and then. In his earlier days he had +tricked a widow and caused her to be separated from her last penny. +Afterwards, he learned she had committed suicide. He shuddered. In fact, he +suffered a little for two long years. Then he forgot about her. Life was +life, and though it played unfairly with some, to others it gave beds of +roses; and after all we were but puppets of fate, and each must take his +chances, and not complain if he did not hold the winning hand. There were +only so many to go around. A lottery--that's what it was. And just as +people left a card table, a few widows and orphans had to clear out of the +big gambling-hall of life. It was as plain as day. + +To a man like Pell, a wife was a necessity--but only a secondary +consideration. Of course he must marry, keep up an expensive menage, and +prove to the world that he was successful even where women were concerned. +He must give his wife the proper background, do all the necessary things; +furnish the right setting for his jewel. Children? Bah! They were not +essential. He had no paternal instinct whatever. Enough that he should +support in luxury and affluence the woman he deigned to make his wife, and +entertain in his home the people who could and would be of use to him. + +Every least act of his life was arranged, specifications written, plans +drawn, and blueprints made. One day he decided that he wished a beautiful +Italian villa on the north shore of Long Island. He pressed a button, +ordered his secretary to get in touch immediately with his architect; and a +half-hour later the latter was at his desk ready to talk of the nebulous +house. Within twenty-four hours he had arranged everything--not a detail +was forgotten. + +That is how he did things. He set out to find a wife in the same +matter-of-fact manner. He met many women; but Lucia Fennell was the only +one who set his pulse beating a little faster. He felt it a shame that he +should be so weak. They were at a dinner-party at the country home of a +mutual friend. + +It was her eyes that held him first. He had never seen quite such +eyes--blue, with a curious depth that spoke of many things--the eyes of a +girl who, had he been wiser, he would have known had been in love before. +This was the type of woman who never loved but once, and then with all her +strength beyond her own high dreams of what love should be. But though Pell +could appraise men, judge them swiftly and surely, he was a fool where a +girl was concerned. He had never spent much time on them. Frankly, they +bored him. He liked far better the subtle game of finance. He had no +finesse in a world of women, and he would have been the easiest possible +prey of an adventuress. + +But Lucia was far from that. Of the best family, with old traditions, she +moved among the set she wished; but society, so called, did not appeal to +her. She preferred people with brains rather than the idle rich; and she +had traveled a great deal, and known the world in strange places. She was +very young when she met the one man of all men for her. Like all women of +great beauty she had known many men who were infatuated with her. Those +gifts and attentions which are the rightful dower of every charming girl +were hers in abundance; and she received them as a queen might have done +from subjects hardly worthy to sit beside her. Then she met--one man. + +It was during a trip she had made with her aunt through New England. He was +poor. To her, that made no difference. She would have gone with him to the +ends of the earth. The flame had touched her heart; she was a victim, like +many another; and when her lover, too proud to ask her to share his poverty +with her, stayed behind when she went back to New York, and failed to write +to her, she almost died of grief. But life had to be faced. One word from +her--she, too, was proud,--and there might have been a different story to +tell. But with the foolish self-consciousness of lovers, each failed the +other in the great moment that would have sealed their destinies. + +Lucia determined that this broken affair should not wreck her existence. +But she brooded long, in secret, and would go nowhere. Her aunt, with whom +she lived, could not rouse her for many months to a sense of the vivid +world around her. She would see no one. + +Two years later Morgan Pell came into her life, at almost the first dinner +she had attended during a long period of time. His impulsiveness, his +assurance, his faith in himself and his power to win her, swept her +temporarily off her feet. At their second meeting he asked her to become +his wife. Why not? She would never love anyone; but she could not go to the +altar with him unless she told him the truth. She did not love him. Was he +willing to take her, knowing this? + +He was. Love meant little to him--though he did not say so. He was just +wise enough to keep that secret within himself. + +"I'll make you love me," he told her, with all the ardor he could put into +his voice. Few women can withstand that age-old phrase. + +There followed a time of utter disillusion for her. The great house on the +Avenue proved to be but four bleak walls; and when the villa on Long Island +was built, she tried to be as enthusiastic as Morgan wanted her to be. He +lavished gifts upon her. He brought out gay house-parties for weekends. +Lucia did her best to keep her part of a bad bargain. She made herself +lovely, and Pell was proud of her physical charms. The jewel was worth the +finest settings, and these he supplied, with no thought of the cost. He had +someone at the head of his table of whom he was very proud. The world need +never know the solemnity of their lives when the curtain was lowered and +they were alone together. After all, many marriages were like this. Theirs +was by no means an exceptional case; and he experienced a curious secret +joy in the fact that he knew other men envied him his wife, and wondered at +his power to hold her. + +And so the months rolled by, with a trip abroad now and then to relieve the +tedium of existence. For a woman to know that she comes to be tolerated +only because she is decorative, is a consummating blow. Pell soon reached +the point where he told Lucia he had bought her, body and soul. He had +determined to win her love. When he saw that he could not, he swiftly +forgot the integrity of her part of the bargain, the honesty of her words +to him before they were married; and he practised subtle cruelties to tame +her and bring her at last to him. + +He began to drink too much. Only a certain pride in his business affairs, +the desire to keep a level head, a clear brain, kept him from sinking +definitely to the gutter. He became irritable with her. Nothing she did +pleased him. He found he could not wound her sufficiently when he was +sober; so he fortified himself with alcohol, gained courage to speak flat +truths, and left her alone for days at a time, thinking such absences were +a punishment. + +Had he but known it, they were the only bright oases in her monotonous +life. She blessed those hours when he mercifully remained away on the +pretext of business. What he did gave her little concern. + +Once she ventured to talk frankly with him about the wisdom of a legal +separation. It was foolish to go on in this way. It was dishonest; it was +the only immorality. + +He laughed her to scorn. "You're too useful to me, my dear," he sneered. He +always added that "my dear" to any statement when he wished to be +thoroughly sarcastic. + +He was conscious that certain captains of business would not have come so +frequently to his home if Lucia had not been there to dispense a supposedly +gracious hospitality. Let her go? Lose all this? Not at all! He brutally +told her so again and again. And finally she made up her mind, for the sake +of peace, that she would merely remain the flower under glass, if that was +his desire. Arguments were of no avail. In a sense, she was beaten. + +The opera, books, travel, a few good friends--those that Morgan allowed +her to keep--these filled her days. + +One evening she was particularly surprised when he said to her, casually: + +"How would you like a little trip out West? You look peaked. Maybe it would +set you up." + +"Why--it sounds nice, Morgan," she answered. "Is it business, or--" Her +sense of humor made it impossible for her to bring out the word "pleasure." + +"Of course it's business," he replied. "Precious little else I get." They +were dining alone, at home, and he motioned the butler to refill his glass +with champagne. + +She wondered at his suggestion. There must be something behind it. But as a +matter of fact she was tired of Long Island, and if she could kill a few +weeks--maybe a few months--in the West, she would willingly go. + +"Sturgis telegraphed me that there was a big possibility of a new vein of +oil down on the border," Pell was telling her. "Some important men want to +talk things over with me at Bisbee. I want to get started in a day or two. +Don't take your maid. It's a rough country, but you'll be all right. Just +old clothes. You can ride a lot, so bring your habit. I'll be busy most of +the time; but I think you'll like the trip. Never been down that way, have +you?" + +"No," she said. "And I've always wanted to go." + +"Not afraid of bandits?" he laughed, sipping his champagne. "It's right +next door to Mexico, you know. Have some swell times down there, they say." + +She laughed too. "How exciting," she said. She grew almost jubilant at the +prospect of the journey. She knew she would probably be "shown off" to the +important men; and that touched her vanity--what little she had left by +now. + +"They tell me it's God's country, with big chances for everyone. I want to +add to our little pile, Lucia," Pell went on. He hoped she would get the +significance of the "our." + +"You're too good to me, Morgan," she said, and meant it. "But why do we +need any more money? We've got everything now." + +"Everything?" he said, significantly; and his eyes became two narrow slits +as he looked at her. + +She toyed with her salad. She hoped he was not going to get into one of his +fiendishly unpleasant moods. + +"Well," she ventured, "as much as anyone could reasonably want. This house, +the garden, friends--" + +"Yes," he sneered, "but not much love." The butler had tactfully withdrawn. +"Why don't you love me, Lucia?" + +"I do--in a way. Oh, let's don't go into all that again, Morgan. We've had +it out so many times. What's the use?" + +"Is there anyone else?" he asked. "If I thought there was...." He lifted +his glass again. + +"You know there isn't," she protested. + +He appraised her across the table, beautiful in a blue gown which just +matched her eyes, her throat adorned with a string of pearls he had given +her on the anniversary of their marriage. + +"I don't see how a woman as lovely as you can be so cold," he said. "You +could do anything with men." + +She tried to smile. "But I don't want to. Women--good women--don't like to +play with fire. It's only adventuresses who dare to face danger.... But +let's talk about Arizona. How good it will be to get out of this hothouse +of the East, and see real people--real flesh-and-blood men and women." + +"Yes. The folks down there know more about life in a day than we do in all +our pitiful lives. You've got to live close to nature to understand human +nature. Simple, isn't it?" + +"Very. We're all so false up here. I get so tired of it, Morgan. Maybe down +there we'll come to a better understanding of each other. Maybe...." + +"That's what I was hoping. So you'd like to go--really?" + +"Yes, indeed. It'll be hot, that's all. But I won't mind that. Anything to +get away for awhile." + +Two days later they had started. The land was green with early summer, in +that rich fullness which makes the heart almost sick with ecstasy. The +farther west they went, the wilder the country grew; and when they finally +dipped down into Arizona, Lucia looked from the train window, her face +alight with joy. Such scenic variety she had never dreamed of. One moment +they were looking at the wonderful mesas and superb canyons; the next they +seemed to pass through dry gullies and great shallow basins. Then there +would come long, weary levels of sand that gleamed in the sun; and far away +she would behold tremendous buttes. The valleys they passed through were +verdant and lovely. Cattle grazed here in a calm peace. It was as if the +rest of the world were shut out, and in this quiet land a special blessing +had come down. The peace of it, the stillness of it crowded in upon her. +She had been to California, but always she had traveled by a northern +route, and had missed the wonder of this part of the world. Before their +journey was over, she had begged Morgan to take her to the Grand Canyon; +and for two days they remained there, drinking in the glory of perhaps the +most beautiful spot on the western continent. She could not get enough of +it--those colors that sank into her heart and consciousness and made her +think she was in paradise. To see the sun rise here--she almost wept that +morning when the lord of heaven came over the mountains that towered like +huge sentinels, impervious to wind and gale and rain. + +"I can't stand such beauty, Morgan," she said at last. "It takes something +out of me. We'll have to go on." + +She saw the giant cactus in full bloom, a miracle of orange, pink, and +crimson; and as they sped south the mountainsides were aflame with juniper +and manzanita. + +At last they reached the little town of Bisbee, where Morgan was to have a +conference with several engineers. Sturgis met them--a fair-haired fellow +with a captivating smile. He liked this country, and told Pell he wished he +could always be kept here. There was no doubt about the new vein of oil, +and new ranches were being opened up rapidly. Only a few miles away was one +that promised well; and the young chap on it was in money difficulties. A +good chance to step in. There had been rumors that a neighbor had taken up +his mortgage; but maybe this was not so. Perhaps they weren't too late. He +had telephoned over, and the youngster had agreed that Pell and his wife +could come and stay with him and his invalid uncle for awhile. Of course he +knew nothing of their intentions. That would never do. They would just lie +low. In fact, he, Sturgis, need not accompany them, except to the hotel. +The ranch-owner's foreman would fetch them out in a Ford. Not a bad trip at +all--only a few miles. It would be better to stop down there. They could +comb the country, get acquainted, see how things were, and keep a vigilant +eye on everything. + +Sturgis had arranged things nicely. "Red" Giddings came over, as planned, +and Lucia liked his pleasant face at once. He was full of enthusiasm for +the country, loved the outdoor life. "Mr. Jones has had hard luck, though," +he said, as they whirled along the road on an afternoon of unbelievable +heat. + +"Jones!" Lucia said. + +"Yes--Gilbert Jones," Giddings replied. "Ever hear of him?" + +For an instant Lucia could hardly see the valley that spread around them. +But it couldn't be possible! It was a common name; there could easily be +two Gilberts--fifty, for that matter. Was this the reason Morgan had asked +her to come? Had he discovered the man with whom she had once been in love, +and was this to be one of his subtle punishments? He had told her not to +bring her maid, and he had been mysterious, she remembered now, as to their +exact destination. But Sturgis had made it clear, on the contrary, that he +had accidentally learned of Jones's ranch. Maybe that was part of the +trick. But what good would come of such a scheme? She and Jones had +loved--and parted. Moreover, perhaps she was giving herself needless cause +for worry. This might not be the Gilbert Jones of her dreams. And what if +Morgan did know? There was nothing to conceal. + +"How--long has he been here?" Lucia wanted to know. + +"Oh, before the war we agreed to try our fortune together down here," "Red" +told her; and the little machine went whirring along. "That's the Hardy +ranch," he said, pointing to the left. "Nice folks." His eyes seemed to +cling to the low house, and Lucia did not realize it at the time, but he +slowed up the car. Presently a young girl came out on the stone terrace and +waved to him. She was like a prairie flower. "Red" Giddings became another +man in the twinkling of an eye. A flush mounted to his cheeks, and a smile +as broad as a fat man's belt all but encircled his countenance. He took one +hand from the wheel and waved until they were out of sight down a curve in +the road. + +"Friend of yours?" said Morgan Pell, smiling. + +"You bet! No finer little girl in this territory!" Giddings replied +promptly. + +They were now in sight of the Jones ranch. "There she is!" "Red" cried. +"Pretty, eh?" + +The low adobe house, with its gleaming roof, looked like a jewel set in the +valley. Far away, seemingly to the very rim of the world, the flat lands +stretched; and then beyond, in a golden haze, the stern mountains loomed, +almost kissing the sky. The range dwindled away in an endless line, and +one could never say where the boundary of Arizona stopped and the unseen +border of Mexico began. The two countries simply merged in the mist. It was +as if a battalion of petrified soldiers kept eternal guard in the sun, half +the line loping over into another camp, but never caring at all. In the +still heat of the afternoon, sagebrush lifted its bright face to the +heavens; and now and then a lonely bird swooped above the rich ranches and +desolate valleys, making a black dot against the sky. A soft wind was +blowing now, bringing mercy from the west, and silence brooded like an +angel, stretching out its wings as though to shelter a troubled world. + +A young man with black hair and tanned skin came out in the yard, hatless. +A gray flannel shirt and a flowing tie, high leggings that laced through +many brass clips, completed his picturesque costume. + +One look--and she knew it was Gilbert--_her_ Gilbert. He recognized her at +the same instant, and a curious light came into his dark eyes. She had been +thinking, all the way down the road, how she should greet him if indeed he +turned out to be that one man in the world. Calmly, yes. She was sure now +that Morgan knew and suspected nothing. It was simply a coincidence that +they should be coming to the adobe of this old love of hers. The long arm +of fate had reached out and snatched her into this ring. She knew that +Gilbert could meet the situation as seemingly unconcerned as she. There was +nothing at all to fear. + +He was their host, and he greeted them as only a good host knows how. +Fortunately, Morgan wanted to go directly to his room. He was cross and +tired, he said, and he desired to freshen up. + +She got out of the car, and "Red" rattled down to the home-made garage a +few rods away. + +They were alone; and they stood there in the path for a moment, looking +into each other's eyes. + +"He is my husband," Lucia then found herself saying. "I am now Mrs. Pell." + +"What are we going to do?" Gilbert asked. He had the face of a dreamer, she +thought. The steel-gray eyes were full of fire and longing. What had these +few years done to him? + +"We are going to do nothing at all. What _is_ there to do? We shall not be +here many days. If you'd rather we went back to Bisbee...." + +"Oh, no! That would only make an issue of nothing. He doesn't know +anything? You're sure? Oh, Lucia!" He seemed suddenly overcome at their +amazing meeting. + +She saw that she would have to be the mistress of the situation. +"Don't--don't, Gilbert," she begged. "I am just a guest of yours." + +"I know--I know," he said, and there was a shade of anguish in his voice. +"Forgive me. There shall be absolutely nothing said. Not even a gesture. I +promise you that. It is as though we had never known each other." + +"Surely we can play a part. It isn't as if we were children," she said, and +smiled. + +He looked at her--indeed, his eyes had never left her face. Never had she +seemed so wonderful to him. + +"I'm in bad," he told her. "Got to give the old place up. But what's that +to you?" There was a sound behind them. "Here comes Uncle Henry!" + +A wheel chair came out of the doorway. In it sat an old man of about sixty. +But he did not look much like an invalid. His cheeks were rosy, and his +abundant white hair was brushed back from a forehead of fine moulding. His +eyes were penetrating--as young as Gilbert's, almost. Ten years before he +had become paralyzed in his legs, and now he wheeled himself about, not at +all uncomfortable. + +"Uncle Henry, this is Mrs. Pell. Come out and meet her," his nephew said. + +Lucia felt that she should go to the invalid; but he beat her to it. Quick +as a billiard-ball he had reached her side, turning the wheels of his chair +with great rapidity. + +"Pleased to meet you," he said, and put out a white hand. "How long you +goin' to stay?" + +"What a question," Gilbert laughed. "As long as she and her husband wish, +of course." + +"Well, by cricketty ginger!" Henry Smith exclaimed. "Hope you'll give 'em +enough to eat!" And before anyone could say another word, he had turned and +scooted back into the house. + +"Don't mind Uncle Henry," Gilbert said to Lucia. "He's got a heart of gold, +but he can be cranky and eccentric sometimes. Maybe he's got one of his +moods to-day. I never know. Tomorrow he'll be all right--perhaps. I hope +so, anyhow.... But come inside. You must be tired after your trip. Your +rooms are upstairs." + +He led her into the prettiest low-beamed room she thought she had ever +seen. Indian pottery was all about, low settles, a fireplace that conjured +up a cozy picture of lonely winter evenings, and an entrancing staircase +without a balustrade that led to a dark blue door. On the walls were some +beautiful Navajo blankets, and a tiny alcove off to the right seemed to +lead to another part of the long low house. The windows were brightly +curtained, and all the furniture had a look of endurance and permanence--a +manly room, she thought. Yet how ironical this appearance of firmness and +stability was, in view of the reason of their visit! He had said he must +give the place up. What a wrench it would be for him! + +Women seldom like to see a bachelor--particularly a young bachelor--living +in such solid comfort. As Lucia went up the stairs, she saw little touches +she could give to the place. But she had to confess that the improvements +she could suggest were not at all important. If two men could get along so +well without feminine society, perhaps one of them didn't miss her much, +after all! + + + + +CHAPTER III + +WHEREIN UNCLE HENRY SPEAKS HIS MIND--AS USUAL + + +It was high noon, two days later. Gilbert again had been about the ranch +looking things over. He had his dreamy moments, but he was far too +practical to let the poet in him rule his life. One sensed, by the most +cursory glance, that here was a type of virile young American who could not +only dream, but make his dreams come true. No idler he! And he had no use +for idlers. He had dared to come to this far country, establish himself on +a ranch, and seek to win out in the face of overwhelming odds. + +How many other young men had staked all on a single game--and lost. That +was one of the finest qualities of the Americans who migrated to this vast +section of the country. They were always good losers, as well as modest +winners. The land was rich in possibilities, as Sturgis had told Pell; and +though the hot season lasted interminably and caused one's spirits, as well +as one's hopes, to droop, there were enchanting spring days and bright, +colorful, dwindling autumns when the air was keen and clear, and life was a +song with youth for its eternal theme. + +Men with families bore the hardest burdens in their early struggle for +success. Gilbert, being single, had less to worry about than many another; +but his Uncle Henry was a handicap. For Uncle Henry used his invalid's +chair much as a king might use his throne--a vantage place from which to +hurl his tyrannous speeches. And there was no come-back. Uncle Henry had +reigned too long to be fearful of any retort from any mere subject who +walked about on two firm legs. For ten years he had held court, moving his +little throne about with sudden jerks. When things did not go entirely his +way, he could always withdraw--expertly, swiftly, cleverly. Doorsills were +nothing to him. He skimmed them dexterously, as a regiment might storm a +hill. Fortunately, he suffered no pain, though sometimes, in a frenzy, he +affected a twinge in his body, and caused a helpless look to sweep over his +countenance. As a rule, this trick worked beautifully; for who could be +cruel to an invalid in pain? Being a bachelor, and having no relative +closer than Gilbert, the latter took him under his roof. He really liked +the old boy, despite his querulousness. + +To-day, Uncle Henry was in one of his temperamental moods. Gilbert, sitting +calmly at the little table, writing, in the low main room of the adobe, +could hear the chair whirling about, each wheel vocal, and revealing the +state of mind of the occupant. + +"Gosh! ain't it hot!" finally came from Uncle Henry, his voice a drawl. + +Gilbert said nothing. There was nothing to say. Of course it was hot; and +he knew Uncle Henry could be depended upon to continue any conversation +once begun. Sure enough, it wasn't the weather at all that he was deeply +interested in, but the forthcoming midday meal. "Say, ain't we never goin' +to eat? I'm as hungry as a bear." + +"Dinner ought to be ready now," Gilbert answered patiently, never looking +up from his paper. + +Uncle Henry was not satisfied. "Then why ain't it," he rasped, giving his +chair a twist, "I ain't had nothin' but a rotten cup of coffee since five +o'clock this mornin'." + +His nephew rose, and went over to the mantel-piece. How often he had heard +just that remark! He didn't bother to reply to it. Instead, he merely +silenced his uncle with a gesture. Uncle Henry didn't like being silenced. +He looked around, as peevish as a spoiled child, and picked at the cloth +that rested on his knees. Then he switched his chair within reach of the +table, and snatched up a newspaper, much as a boy might grab the brass ring +at a merry-go-round. He would read, if he couldn't make his nephew talk; +and he buried himself in the printed page. Gilbert, having lighted his +pipe, went back to his writing. "Well, what do you know about that!" +exclaimed Uncle Henry, his face aglow. + +"About what, Uncle?" + +"Why, Ezry Pringle's dead." + +"Who's Ezry Pringle?" Gilbert asked, feigning an interest he did not feel. + +"A friend o' mine. Only seventy years old, too. He was right in the prime +of life." + +Gilbert smiled. "What's that paper you're reading?" + +"The _Bangor Daily Commercial_, printed at Bangor, Maine. An' that's the +only decent town in the whole gol darn world. Wisht I was there now!" He +glanced at the alcove that led to another room, as if conscious that Morgan +Pell might have heard him. He wanted to say something more to Gilbert, but +something told him he had better keep silent. Instead, he read an item from +the paper aloud to him. "Listen to this, Gilbert," he said: "'The Elite +Fish Market has just received five barrels of soft clams from Eastport. Get +there early, feller citizens! They won't last long.' Think o' that, +Gilbert? Clams!" He smacked his lips, and even forgot how warm it was. +"Clams! An' I ain't even seen one in five long years! Not even a clam!" He +turned his chair suddenly, and looked out of the open door, where the +country meandered away. "This is a hell of a hole! Why did we ever come +down here?" he whined. He swung about again, and faced his nephew. "Say, +Gil, do they have clams in France?" + +"No; only mussels. Good ones, too." + +Uncle Henry looked amazed. "They eat mussels?" he cried. + +Gilbert looked up, smiled, and nodded. + +"An' I hear they eat frogs, an' hosses, an' cheese with worms in it, too. +Say," the old man wanted to know, "what don't they eat over there?... An' +speakin' of eatin', ain't we never goin' to have no dinner?" + +"I think it'll be ready soon, Uncle. Do be patient. I want to write." + +Uncle Henry settled back in his chair, and for a brief interval became +absorbed in his newspaper. But not for long could he remain silent. +"Where's that Mr. Pell?" he asked. + +"Inside, I think, lying down," Gilbert replied, nodding toward the alcove, +his pen rushing across the page. + +Uncle Henry made a grimace. "He makes me sick, that feller." + +"Oh, cut that out, Uncle," Gilbert implored; but there was a little note of +irritation in his voice. "That's no way to talk of a guest under our roof." + +"I won't neither cut nothin' out! An' you make me sick too, you gol darn +fool!" + +"For the love of Mike, quit your babbling! Sssh!" + +"Don't you shush me, gol darn it!" cried Uncle Henry, crumpling the +newspaper in his hand and throwing it on the floor. The heat was affecting +him. "I've kep' still long enough, an'--" + +"Oh, have you?" Gilbert smiled. + +"--an' I'm goin' to find out what's what!" Uncle Henry went on, as though +he had not been interrupted. + +"You act as though I were to blame for what's happened," his nephew said. +He saw it would do no good to lose his temper. + +"Well, ain't you? Why did you want to go to war in the first place? Why, +why?" He pounded the arm of his chair. "That's what started it." + +"Well, somebody had to go," Gilbert answered, smiling. "If some of us +hadn't taken things in our hands, I don't know what would have become of +Democracy!" + +Uncle Henry pondered a moment. "Mebbe so. But you didn't have to go." +Gilbert had risen to get a match, and his uncle's eye followed him to the +mantel-piece. He spoke to the back of his head. "You could have claimed +exemption if you'd wanted to, an' you know it." + +"Exemption?" Gilbert repeated the word, a little angry at its utterance. +This wasn't like Uncle Henry who, with all his peculiarities, had always +been a patriot. + +"Absolutely! You were the sole support of an invalid uncle." He waited for +the truth of this remark to sink in; but Gilbert said nothing. "And on top +of that," Uncle Henry went on, rapidly, when his nephew did not speak, +"you were engaged in an essential industry--if you can call these rotten +steaks you feed us on essential. The bones is softer than the meat." He +gave a curious little laugh, thin and high. + +Gilbert went back to the table, leaned over, and put one hand +affectionately on the old man's shoulder. "Now, Uncle," he said, kindly, +"what's the use of going over all this again? You know how I dislike it." +He sat down and began to write again. But Uncle Henry had not finished--he +had just started. + +"What's the _use_?" he wheezed. "There's lots of use. Here you go an' +persuade me to sell the old home and buy this rotten ranch 'way down here +in this God-forsaken country. An' just when I, like a darned old fool, take +an' do it, along comes the war an' you enlist and leave me here with +nothin' but a lot of rotten cows!" + +"But I left the foreman and the cook," Gilbert reminded him. + +A look of scorn came over Uncle Henry's face, "Yes, 'Red' Giddings--playin' +the harmonicky until I go almost crazy! An' a Mexican cook that can't cook +nothin' but firecrackers! An' not even them when you want 'em!" He waited +for this crowning touch to sink in. Infuriated by Gilbert's indifference, +he swung around again in his chair. "Say, ain't we _never_ goin' to have no +dinner? I'm hungry!" + +"I'm sorry," was all Gilbert said. + +Uncle Henry almost resorted to tears--they were in his voice, at any rate. +"First you rob me an' then you starve me!" he all but screamed. "An' the +best you got to say is you're sorry!" + +Jones never looked up, as he continued to write. "I did the best I could, +Uncle. You know that, of course." + +A remark like that always exasperates the hearer. "If that's yer best, I'd +hate to see what yer worst is like," the other flamed. "An' now we're +broke, an' they're goin' to foreclose to-day!" he added. "By golly, mebbe +they've foreclosed already!" + +"No, not till eight o'clock," Gilbert's passionless manner was maddening. + +"Eight o'clock to-night?" his uncle cried, and leaned so far out of his +chair that he was in danger of falling to the floor. + +"Yes," Gilbert said, calmly. + +"You're crazy! Don't you know yet that courts don't stay open at night?" He +swung about in his frenzy and disgust. + +"This court does. Somebody told the judge where he could get a bottle of +liquor for eighteen dollars," Gilbert added, and smiled. + +"So if we don't get ten thousand dollars there by eight o'clock to-night, +we're set out on the bricks without no more home than a prairie dog--not as +much!" almost screamed Uncle Henry. "An' yet you say why talk about it?" + +"But it isn't getting us anywhere--just to sit around and complain," his +nephew tried to pacify him, rising, and starting toward him again; but +Uncle Henry didn't want to be so near him, knowing what he was going to say +next. Therefore he switched adroitly to the door, and let out, "No, it +ain't gettin' us anywhere; but it would if you'd marry Angela Hardy, like I +want you to!" He was a little frightened now that he had uttered the words, +and he looked anxiously at Gilbert to see their effect. The latter remained +as calm as ever. "But I don't love her," was all he said. + +Uncle Henry was exasperated now. "What's that got to do with it?" he +yelled. "Her father's rich, an' not even he, mean as he is, would foreclose +on his own son-in-law. Mebbe he'd even lend you somethin' besides," he +added, slyly. He had great faith in these neighbors down the valley. + +"I can't do it," Gilbert stated, as if he were discussing going to the +nearest town. + +"Won't, you mean." + +"No. I mean can't--just what I said. It wouldn't be fair to her. I can't +pretend to love her when I don't." + +"You don't have to," his uncle urged. "She's so crazy about you, she'd +marry you anyway." Triumphant knowledge was in his tone. + +"What makes you think so?" Gilbert asked, coming close to the old man. + +"She told me she would." He got it out bravely. + +Young Jones was nearly bowled over. "She told you!" he repeated; and as he +said it, passion for the first time came into his voice. There was the +sound of hoof beats down the road. But neither of them paid any attention. + +"Absolutely," the old man affirmed. + +"Absolutely?" + +"Absogoshdarnlutely!" Uncle Henry relieved the tension by saying. + +Gilbert came over and peered into his uncle's face. "You don't mean you +spoke to her about it?" he said. + +"Why not?" rather impudently. "Somebody had to do it." And he chuckled. "I +know what would become of Hypocricy if a few of you youngsters would be as +brave as us old boys!" + +"Good Lord!" was all young Jones could say, and he put his hand to his +head. + +"John Alden spoke for Miles Standish, an' they wasn't even related," Uncle +Henry tried to placate the other. + +The horse on the road, unknown to the men, had reached the adobe. Lucia +Pell, radiant as a prairie flower, appeared at the door. She wore a +riding-habit that fit her to perfection, and her hair, tumbled a bit by the +soft breeze, fell around her face in a cascade of golden loveliness. Her +eyes sparkled. She was the picture of glorious health and youth--a woman +born for love and loving. She brought fragrance into the room. + +"Hello, Gil!" she said, beating her riding-crop on her boot, and smiling +that entrancing smile of hers. She was glad to see her handsome host again +after her brisk ride. + +"Good morning, Lucia," Gilbert said, hardly daring to look at her. + +Uncle Henry didn't mean to be overlooked. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Pell," he +said, meaningly. + +"Why, it _is_ afternoon, isn't it?" she laughed. + +"It's darn near night," Uncle Henry rasped. + +"And I'm simply famished. Who wouldn't be, after such a glorious ride!" +Lucia said. + +"The cook's getting dinner now. Have a good canter, you say?" young Jones +inquired. + +"I missed you," Lucia answered, unashamed. + +Uncle Henry looked disgusted. + +"I'm sorry, I had a lot of things to attend to. I'm glad you're back, for I +was beginning to be worried about you, Lucia. Bandits! They're around +again." + +Lucia didn't take him seriously. She hardly remembered that they were so +close to the border of Mexico. "Bandits?" she scoffed. "Oh, but they just +steal cows and things, don't they?" + +"Worse than that." Gilbert was serious, and gave her an appraising glance. +"Human life means little in Mexico. They even kill their prisoners in cold +blood." + +But still Lucia was not alarmed. "If that's true," she smiled, "I won't go +without you, if you wish it that way." She looked knowingly at him. + +"It isn't what I wish," Jones answered. "Nothing is what I wish." + +"Well," Uncle Henry put in, "you're going to get your wish all right." As +he spoke, Morgan Pell came through the alcove from his room, and the old +invalid steered his chair so that he faced him. Pell looked anything but +engaging to-day. There was something about him that repelled--people could +never say what it was; but one sensed a latent cruelty in the man. His eyes +were shifty, and there were little lines about his mouth that spoke of his +days of dissipation. It was hard to associate him with the flower-like +Lucia. Here were a man and woman never meant for each other--that was +evident immediately; yet he had that old power that seemed to hypnotize +her. And she was not the only woman who had fallen beneath his spell. But +now, apparently, he did not see her. + +"Good afternoon, Mr. Pell," said old Smith to the newcomer. + +"How are you?" the latter answered, with no show of interest. + +"Have a good nap?" Gilbert inquired; but he really didn't care at all. +Pell, however, took his question seriously. + +"Couldn't sleep a wink," he said. "This cursed heat, you know. Glad I don't +have to live in this part of the world all the time." + +Uncle Henry leaned forward in his chair, and his eyes followed Pell +expectantly as the latter moved across the low room, a small satchel in +his hands. "You ain't leaving, are you?" he asked. + +"No," was the laconic reply. + +"I was afraid you wasn't," ventured Uncle Henry; and there was an awkward +pause. Then, "It's pretty hot," the invalid remarked, delighted that no one +had called him to account for his obvious insult. He knew he had all the +advantage of a weak woman. His little throne was immune from attack. + +"It's always pretty hot till night--then it's pretty cold," Pell said. + +"What've you got that bag for?" Uncle Henry pursued. No one was ever more +frankly curious than Uncle Henry. + +"Company, my dear sir," Pell quickly retorted, not a little annoyed at the +question; and he glared at the old man. He had had two days of him, and was +getting used to him. Lucia, who had remained silent by the door, saw the +cloud on her husband's face, and gave a little, startled "Oh!" It was +hardly more than a whisper, but Pell was swift to catch it. He turned on +her, and took in her radiant figure. + +"So there you are!" he half sneered. "Been riding?" + +"Yes; just a little canter." + +"Alone?" Pell followed up. + +"Yes; why?" + +"Oh, nothing--nothing at all." There was a nasal tone in his voice +always--a twang that grated on sensitive ears. He turned on Gilbert. "How +about dinner?" he asked, almost as though the young fellow were a hotel +clerk. + +"It isn't ready yet," Jones answered. He disliked the other's tone. After +all, he was a guest in his, Gilbert's, house. He hoped their wretched +business would soon be settled, and Pell return to New York. He had had his +fill of him. + +Pell, seemingly oblivious of the bad impression he had made, started toward +the door. He had not put the bag down. "Well, call me when dinner _is_ +ready, will you? I won't be far away." + +"Where are you going?" Lucia ventured. + +"Out," was Pell's curt reply; and he almost knocked Uncle Henry's chair +aside as he hurried into the yard. + +There was an awkward silence at his departure. Everyone felt a little +ashamed for him; but Gilbert was determined that Lucia should not read his +thoughts. So he said, nonchalantly, "Well, Lucia, how did the pony +behave?" just as though Pell had never been in the room. + +"Splendidly!" the young wife replied, glad that the atmosphere was cleared +once more. "Oh, Gil, it's wonderful here--nothing but sky and the golden +desert! What a miracle place!" + +"You like it here?" Jones asked, knowing that she did. She had told him so +every hour of her visit. + +Lucia gave him a rapt look. "Like it, Gil? Um! I love it!" She clasped her +hands to her breast; and Jones thought she had never looked lovelier, more +desirable. How pink her cheeks were! Yet underneath her beauty there was a +wistful sadness. Anyone could see that she was not happy. + +"You really love it?" Uncle Henry asked, as though he could not believe he +had heard what she said. + +Lucia had forgotten his presence for a moment. Now she turned to him and +smiled. "Of course. Don't you?" + +"It makes me sick!" was the unexpected reply. + +Lucia was horrified; and she looked from Smith to Gilbert in utter +confusion. "Why, it's beautiful!" she exclaimed. + +"Beautiful!" Uncle Henry went on, repeating the word in derision. "What's +beautiful about it? That's what I'd like to know." + +"The desert," Lucia answered. + +"A lot of gol darn sand!" the invalid whined. + +"The sky, then!" Lucia affirmed. + +But Uncle Henry merely repeated "The sky!" in whole-hearted disgust. + +Lucia refused to be downed. "But think of the glorious colors--blue and +gold and purple!" + +"And no grass nor nothin'," the invalid retorted. "Not even a place to go +fishin'. And you call it beau--Say, was you ever in Bangor?" + +Gilbert roared with laughter; but Lucia took the old boy seriously. +"Bangor?" she repeated, wonderingly. + +"Yes. Bangor, Maine. Now there's a place as is beau--Take the town hall, +for instance. And the Soldiers' Monument. And the cemetery. They got the +swellest cemetery in Bangor you ever--." Gilbert was almost doubling up +with laughter; but Uncle Henry went right on: "As for this gol darn place, +I wish it was in--An' it wouldn't have fur to go, neither!" he added, +emphatically, smiling at his own humor. "I wisht I was back in Maine! +There's where I was always so happy!" + +By this time Lucia was smiling too. She went over and shook her finger +gently in the invalid's face. "You're cross just because you're hungry!" + +"I ain't neither!" Smith replied, like a little boy. + +"Yes, you are!" Lucia kept on. + +"I ain't!" + +"Uh, uh!" she teased him, as though she were playing with a baby. + +Smith grew peevish. "Gol darn it, I tell you I ain't!" And he gave his +chair a rapid twirl. + +"Boo!" came from Lucia softly. She laughed, and ran up the tiny stone +stairs that led to her room. + +"Boo, yourself!" called out Uncle Henry, determined to have the last word, +as Lucia disappeared. Then he turned querulously on his nephew, as soon as +he was certain she was out of hearing. "Why did you ever invite 'em to stay +here in the first place?" he wanted to know. The sound of "Red's" harmonica +was heard outside. + +"Because there was no decent hotel anywhere near. I couldn't do less than +offer them what little hospitality I had, could I, when Sturgis suggested +it?" + +But his uncle didn't agree with him at all. "You could have done a whole +lot less," he decided. "You could have invited 'em to keep on going. Comin' +here at a time like this, and not only eatin' us out of house and home, but +drinkin' up the last bottle of liquor in the world!" This seemed to him the +culminating tragedy. When his nephew said nothing at all, he asked, +petulantly, "Well, what are you going to do? That's what I want to know." + +"What can I do?" + +"Do you mean to say you're going to set here and get throwed out into the +street and not even try to do something?" + +Gilbert merely shrugged his shoulders. + +"Well, of all the--" his Uncle Henry went on. "It's a darn good thing for +you that I'm an invalid! That's all I got to say!" He wheeled about, and +aimed at the door that led to the open air. At that instant "Red" Giddings, +the husky young foreman, appeared directly in his path, his shock of fiery +hair like an aureole about his head. "Git out o' my way!" Uncle Henry +yelled. "Gol darn the gol darn luck, anyhow!" + +And through years of practice he shot into the yard as straight as an +arrow. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +WHEREIN "RED" REVEALS HIS HEART, AND MRS. QUINN GIVES HIM GOOD COFFEE AND +GOOD ADVICE + + +"Red" Giddings had been on the ranch with Gilbert since the very beginning. +He came from the North with the young man, willing to stake all on this one +venture. Like young Jones, he was not afraid. He was an efficient, +well-set-up young fellow, with three consuming passions: Arizona, his +harmonica, and Angela Hardy. The first saw a lot of "Red"; the second +touched his lips frequently; but as for Angela--well, perhaps the poor boy +kissed his harmonica so often in order to forget her lips. But if his own +music charmed "Red," it failed to have that effect upon +others--particularly Uncle Henry, who went into a rage whenever he heard +the detested instrument. "Red's" music had no charms to soothe the savage +breast of Henry Smith. + +But another did like it. Angela once told "Red" in the moonlight--and her +father had never forgiven her for her foolishness--that his harmonica never +wearied her. That was enough for "Red." Once every day he managed to find +some excuse to get over to the Hardy ranch; and always his beloved +instrument went along with him in his pocket, and he would approach his +lady love's castle like the troubadours of old, his foot tapping on the +path while his harmonica, in the place of a lute, made soft sounds. +Instantly Angela would poke her pretty head from the window, and pretend +that she was a princess in distress, and he her knight who had come to +release her from her prison. + +Moreover, the Hardys had a wonderful cook--a woman they had brought down +from Phoenix. Instead of the firecracker stuff that Uncle Henry so +bitterly complained of, she, being an Irish woman, could concoct a stew +that would make one's hair curl; and her pastry was succulent and sweet, +and literally melted in the mouth. Her coffee--ah! who could make better +coffee? And as the meals at the Jones ranch were served sporadically, and +"Red" was as healthy as a peasant and had never known the time when he +couldn't tuck away some dainty from the kitchen he ingratiated himself +with Mrs. Quinn, quite won her heart, too, with his music, and was even +known to desert his work for the boon of a bit of pie. + +When she was suffering from the heat of the stove, and was ready to throw +up her job and return to the bright lights of Phoenix, "Red" invariably +came around to the door with music on his lips, his shock of hair blown by +the soft wind, looking so boyish that she had to succumb to him, boil +another pot of coffee, and lay a place for him at the corner of the table. + +"Be off wid yez!" she always began by saying. But the insinuating harmonica +was his only reply; and she ended by begging him to come in and play for +her while she messed with the pots and pans, and maybe found some batter +for a plate of griddle cakes. + +On this particular morning, work being useless since things were going so +badly for Jones, "Red" slipped up the road and reached the kitchen door +just as Mrs. Quinn was washing up. + +"Oh, so there ye be, me boy!" was her motherly greeting. "Come in, an' +maybe--who knows?--I'll find a cup o' coffee fer ye, though I'm not +thinkin' ye deserve it." + +"Red" loved the odors from this fragrant kitchen. The stove always +gleamed, and when Mrs. Quinn was in good humor she was like a great light +moving here and there, dispensing warmth also. She was a monstrous woman; +but like many large people, she got about easily and swiftly. Her capable +hands were forever fluttering in the flour-barrel or over the dough-board, +and her ruddy cheeks and honest gray eyes spoke of health and good nature. +She adored Angela; and she really liked "Red" tremendously, and hoped in +the end he would win the difficult and fickle girl. But, like Angela, she +had moment when she could have shaken him. For "Red" didn't fight hard +enough for what he wanted. He was naive to the point of stupidity at times; +and women like aggressive men--even men who are capable of flogging them +into submission, deny it as they will. "Red" was gentle and mild, though +thoroughly manly. Both Angela and Mrs. Quinn would have liked to see him +live up to his fiery hair. + +He beamed now at the genial cook's greeting, and took out his harmonica, +running over the full scale as a suitable answer. + +"Here, sit ye down, 'Red,'" Mrs. Quinn ordered. "But first see that yer +feet is wiped off. I don't want to see no dirt along me clean floor." + +She was busy with a place for him near the window, happy, as most women +are, to serve a handsome young chap, and secretly wishing in her heart that +she had him for a son. + +The coffee was miraculously brought, and soon the griddle-cakes, gloriously +brown, and deftly turned by Mrs. Quinn, were in front of him. + +"Gee! you make a feller happy, Mrs. Quinn!" said the appreciative "Red," +sitting down, and getting busy, "Won't you come to Bisbee with Angela an' +me the next time we go to the movies?" + +She gave him a half-scornful look. "An' what would yez want with an old +woman like meself taggin' along with yez now?" Mrs. Quinn exclaimed, her +arms akimbo. "Ain't ye happy enough with yer Angela, an' no fat funeral +like me occupyin' too much room in the Ford? Go along, me lad, an' have a +good time with yer colleen! She'd like it better alone with ye, too--be +sure o' that!" + +"Of course I would!" + +They hadn't seen Angela come in. She stood in the doorway like a vision--a +morning-glory from which the freshness of the early hours never seemed to +depart. + +"Oh!" poor "Red" gasped, and leaped to his feet. "Would you, Angela?" He +looked at her, drank her beauty in, as though she were the only creature on +this earth. + +"Certainly!" said Angela, coming over to him. "You're a boob, 'Red,' and if +you don't look out, there's a fellow over at Bisbee who--" + +"Oh!" the anguished "Red" managed to get out. "_Is_ there, Angy?" + +There was--of course there was--and there wasn't. Angela knew just how far +to go. Her black eyes danced. "Red" sat down again, after she had shoved +him back to his late breakfast. Mrs. Quinn, amused, was busy with some more +cakes, though "Red" had scarcely had time to begin the first batch. But she +knew his capacity, and she felt he would need sustaining food after +Angela's last remark. + +"You don't always wave to me like you did the other day when I went by," +said "Red," his lips in Mrs. Quinn's golden coffee. + +"Why should I?" said Angela. "You don't always have such swell-looking +folks with you!" + +"Oh, so that's why you waved!" disappointment in his tone. + +"Maybe." She was teasing him, but he didn't know it. "Who were they?" + +"A Mr. and Mrs. Pell, from New York. They're lookin' over property round +here.... But I don't care, Angy. Even if I had to go to Bisbee four times a +day and get some good-lookin' folks to bring down the road, I'd do it if +you'd wave to me! Oh, why can't you always be nice to me?" + +"If I was always nice to you, you wouldn't know how lucky you are!" she +countered. "It's good for you to have your bad days--with me." + +"Well, maybe you're right. You're 'most always right; but gosh! a feller +does like a little encouragement once in a while. You can be so cruel, +Angy!" + +"Can I? If you think not waving to you is cruelty, you ought to see some of +my other forms of torture." + +"Ugh! I hope I never do!" He drank again from the cup. + +"Say," Angela said, watching him, "you seem to like that coffee a lot more +than you like me! That brunette in the cup is my rival!" + +He looked at her in blank amazement. He hadn't much sense of humor. He was +as literal-minded as a child. "You certainly are the funniest girl, Angy!" +he said, "How could coffee be a girl's rival?" + +"Easier than a fellow in Bisbee--maybe. Better look out, 'Red,' or I'll sue +Mrs. Quinn for alienation of affections!" + +"Oh, you wouldn't do that!" said the kindly, honest "Red." + +"What a stupid you are, to be sure!" said Angela, and laughed. "There--eat +these hot cakes--though how you can on this beastly warm morning is more +than I can see--and then play me some tunes. I'm dying to hear some music. +This afternoon Dad says he's going over to your ranch. I don't know what +for, do you? I do wish people didn't have to lose their property. Why are +mortgages, anyhow?" + +"Blamed if _I_ know, Angy! Thanks, Mrs. Quinn." + +"Sure, an' you're welcome, me boy." Angela had gone out on the step. The +old Irishwoman saw her chance. "For the love o' Mike, 'Red,' woo her, an' +woo her hard! There _is_ a feller in Bisbee. She's after lovin' ye, but +you're too slow--slower'n the molasses I just poured on yer griddle-cakes +fer ye!" + +"I'll try," said the accommodating "Red." "You're a good friend, Mrs. +Quinn. I won't forget you when I own this place!" + +"Be off, now! Ye've got some travelin' to do before ye're able to win +Angela. Then ye can think of buyin' a ranch." + +She literally pushed him from her domain; and he found himself by Angela's +side out of doors. + +The bright sunlight touched her hair, and they went over to a pergola she +had had built, covered with vines. A little fountain tinkled near it, and +the heat of the day would not bother them here. + +For three delirious hours, "Red" was alone with Angela. One moment she +pouted, the next she let him touch her hand. + +"You may be going away soon, 'Red.' Will you write to me if you do?" + +"Will I?" he cried, "Every day--a postal-card at least. I ain't much at +letters.... But I'm not so sure I'm goin', Angy. Something tells me that +even if your father does hold the mortgage, it won't be foreclosed. Gil +Jones has worked too hard...." + +"Dad's awfully hard about holding to a bargain," Angela reminded him. "He's +all business. He wasn't that way until after Ma died. I do wish he'd be +more human. I've talked to him and talked to him, until I'm tired; but he's +getting harder all the time. This is the last day, isn't it?" + +"Yes. Jones is awful blue. That's one reason I ought to get back. Maybe he +needs some cheerin' up. God knows his Uncle Henry don't give him much." + +The sun was now high in the heavens. It was almost noon. "Red" said he +would walk. No trouble at all; and what did he care how hot it was? He was +used to it. But how he did hate to leave his Angela! + +He played his harmonica most of the way home, and he was still running his +lips along the instrument when he entered the adobe door, just as Uncle +Henry wheeled out of it. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +WHEREIN GILBERT JONES IS WORRIED, AND LUCIA PELL IS ASKED TO DO AN +IMPOSSIBLE THING + + +Poor "Red" couldn't have encountered the invalid at a less propitious +moment; for he was almost knocked down by that crabbed gentleman. + +"Certainly wheels a mean chair," he said good-naturedly to Gilbert, as he +watched Uncle Henry steer himself out to the gate. "Got his cut-out open, +too! Pesky to-day, ain't he? That's one reason I came back." He spread his +legs apart, and fanned himself with his hat. He ran his fingers through his +thick, violent crop of hair. "A mean Arizona day!" he said. "The walk made +me hot." + +"I should think it would," Jones replied. + +"No grub yet?" "Red" ventured. He was hungry even yet. Twenty-two is always +hungry. + +"No," said his employer. + +"Should have been ready two hours ago. What's the matter? Wish we had Mrs. +Quinn over here." + +"I don't know what's the matter. I haven't thought much about eating." He +was engrossed again in his papers. + +But "Red" didn't intend to let the matter drop. "You're too easy on that +cook," he said. "Now, if you had a Mrs. Quinn--" He had pulled out a worn +tobacco-bag, which was discouragingly flat. He had smoked a lot this +morning. + +Gilbert was swift to notice the empty pouch, and offered him his. + +"Thanks; much obliged," "Red" said, filling his pipe. "But darn that cook, +anyhow! If he wasn't leavin', I'd fire him! As if you didn't have enough +troubles, without havin' to bother about late meals--an' guests in the +house." + +But a puff or two on his pipe soothed him, "Red's" bark was always worse +than his bite. He was the best-natured chap in the world, and he idolized +Gilbert Jones. There was a big packing-case in the middle of the room, and +he sat on it, tailor-fashion, as happy as a husky, normal young man can be. + +He looked longingly at the unset table; but his thoughts were more of +Angela Hardy than of the good meal to come. + +"'Red,'" said Gilbert after a brief silence, "I was hoping to be able to +pay you off to-day." + +"Pay me off?" That would have been heaven! He could have taken Angela to +the movies at Bisbee. + +"Yes." + +"Oh, forget it! You don't owe me nothin'!" + +"Only a mere trifle of six months' wages," Gilbert laughed. + +"Red" had put his head in one hand, and leaned back on the case, at peace +with the world. His left foot beat a little tattoo on the side of the box. +Now he sat up straight and looked sharply at Jones. + +"What's the use of talking about this?" he wanted to know. "You ain't got +it, have you?" + +Gilbert paused the fraction of a second. "No," he had to admit, "But that +doesn't alter the fact that I owe you money." He went over and stood close +to his foreman. + +"You're wrong," the younger man said. "It was my own proposition that I +come here with you and work, an' you know it. Now what you got to say?" + +Gilbert put his arm around "Red's" big shoulder, and playfully pushed him +off the box. "You're just a big kid, aren't you, 'Red'?" + +"I don't know what I am. But I do know I was only too glad to take the +gamble with you. An' I'll take another one right now if you've got one to +suggest." + +Gilbert pushed the case over on its side. It was empty. There were some +Navajo blankets on a little stand by the window. These he now fetched over +to the case, first placing them carefully on the floor, spread out in all +their rainbow beauty. Their bright patterns glorified the room, as if a +lamp had been lighted. He said nothing. "Red" wondered what he was doing +with these splendid blankets. He had never seen anything like them on the +ranch, though there were others on the walls. + +"I'd like to remark," "Red" went on, "that if we ever gets into the cow +business again, we ought to get us a nice ranch in Washington, D.C. It +don't pay American citizens to go too fur away from home, these days." + +Gilbert laughed. Then, "Oh!" he ejaculated, as though remembering +something. + +"What's the matter?" "Red" asked. + +"Haven't you heard? Lopez has broken off the reservation again." + +"Lopez!" exclaimed "Red," forgetting his pipe, his dinner, and even Angela +for the moment. "The devil he has!" + +"Uh--uh! Raided the Diamond Dot last night." + +"He won't bother us," "Red" smiled, settling back again. "Nothin' to steal +here except the mortgage." He paused, as though in deep thought; but +Gilbert, had he known it, was thinking even harder. Lopez, the Mexican +bandit, was a dim uncertainty; the mortgage was a stern reality. + +"You'll want to be drivin' over to the station later?" "Red" went on, +coming to the table, and taking off his spurs. + +"Yes," Gilbert answered. He had folded all the blankets neatly, rose, and +went over to the window-box to get some strong cord. + +"In the gallopin' wash-boiler?" "Red" smiled, "_That_ still belongs to +us--I mean, you." He clinked his spurs on the table. + +"Us is right, 'Red.' You said you'd been a partner. You have. Some day I'm +going to tell you how grateful I am." In his preoccupation, he forgot to +tie up the blankets; and, one hand on "Red's" shoulder, he let the cord +fall on the table. + +"Aw, that's all right," "Red" said. He didn't like to be thanked, and he +avoided even the shadow of sentimentality with Jones. After all, they were +two young fellows, playing a big game together, taking big chances; and +what was the use of talking about it? "What are you going to tell the +Pells?" he suddenly asked, glad to get off the immediate subject. + +"Pells?" + +"Say, I'm goin' to poke that bird in the beak some day!" "Red" declared. + +Jones smiled. "What's he done to you?" + +"Nothin'. He'd better not. It's the way he treats his wife. She's so darn +game, too. I wouldn't treat a horse the way he treats her. Well, what are +you goin' to tell them?" + +Gilbert stood perfectly still. He was in deep thought. Finally he spoke. + +"I'm going to tell them I'm going away--important business." + +"East?" "Red" asked. He had seated himself at the table, and picked up +Gilbert's pen, and began making curious little scrawls with it on a piece +of paper, as a business man sometimes does when he is telephoning. + +"No. West," answered Jones. "They're going East." + +"What are you going to do?" "Red" was amused rather than alarmed. + +"Oh, I'll get a job somewhere. Punch cows--or maybe join the rangers. +There's always something a fellow can do." + +"An' what about your uncle?" + +"I'll put him up in Bisbee till I get a chance to ship him back to Bangor. +He likes Bangor, you know!" Gilbert smiled. + +"He takes it sort o' hard, don't he?" + +"Well, you can't blame the old boy. You see, I got him to sell out +everything--everything, and invest in this ranch. Maybe it wasn't the right +thing to do; but I thought I was certain to succeed. I meant all for the +best, 'Red.' You know that." Who could doubt those gray eyes of Gilbert +Jones, that open, frank, boyish face? + +"Of course I do." He got up, and walked over to the window. "Your uncle +don't like jokin' much, does he? I asked him the other day why he didn't +get a chauffeur. Gosh! he got mad!" "Red" laughed at the recollection. + +"Uncle Henry's in no joking mood just now. You can't blame him much." + +"Red" turned and looked at his employer. He didn't know whether he should +ask the next question or not; but he took his courage in his hands. + +"He--he wants you to--to marry Angela Hardy, don't he?" + +Gilbert looked surprised. "Hardy's daughter?" + +"Red" nodded. + +"How did you know?" Jones asked. + +"Because he ain't talked of nothin' else for six months. You wasn't +thinkin' of doin' it, was you?" He hung on Gilbert's answer. + +"Hardly!" with a smile. + +The relief of "Red"! + +"I know, I know!" he cried. "But once she gets her mind set on a thing--" + +"You mean you think she wants to marry me? Is that it?" Gilbert asked, not +taking the matter very seriously. He was busy at the box again, pulling the +top farther back. + +"Well, I don't know as I'd say that," "Red" offered; "but I think she +thinks she wants to." He was sitting on the edge of the table, swinging one +leg. "She's prone to fancies, Angela is. Even I gotter admit that!" + +"_Even_ you?" Gilbert inquired, puzzled. + +The question made "Red" a bit nervous. He jumped to the floor, and then sat +down in the chair beside the table, pretending to be very much at ease. +"Like that traveling man from Saint Looey," he explained. "She thought she +cared for him. I tried to tell her different. I had to run him out of town +with a gun to prove it. But even then she didn't believe it until that New +York surveyor come along." + +Gilbert looked up, "And she thought she loved him?" + +"Until she met up with that hoss doctor from Albuquerque! An' now there's a +new feller in Bisbee!" + +Jones was a trifle mystified, "Say, how do you happen to know so much about +her affairs, 'Red'?" + +How involved he had become! He blushed like a schoolboy; got up, took his +pipe out of his mouth and emptied it in the fireplace. "Me?" he said. "Oh, +I've knowed her a long time." + +Jones was beginning to see the truth, to read the heart of this young +rascal. So it was over at the Hardy's that he spent so many hours! + +"Oh, so that's it, is it? What's the matter? Does her father object?" + +"Oh, no!" "Red" was quick to deny. "I stand all right with him. He's knowed +me a long time. It's her." + +Gilbert laughed outright; and "Red," humanly embarrassed now that his +secret was out, paced the room, his hands behind his back, digging his heel +every now and then in the floor. "Aw--" he began. + +"Listen, 'Red,'" said Jones, in sympathy with the lad, and hoping to cover +up his confusion. "If Hardy comes, keep him out till I'm alone. I don't +want any war talk before the Pells." + +"I get yer," said "Red," visibly relieved. + +"Any stronger cord on the place anywhere?" Gilbert looked around the room. +Maybe one of the many Indian jugs contained a string. "Red" and he had a +habit of putting any old thing in them. + +"There's some down in the hay barn. Want me to get it for you?" "Red" +offered. + +"No; I'll get it, thanks. You see if you can't prod up the cook a little. +I'm hungry now." + +And "Red" ran into the kitchen. No sooner had he left the room, than there +was a rumble, and Uncle Henry burst in on Gilbert, a smile of triumph on +his face. + +"I got it!" he all but yelled. + +"Got what?" his nephew asked. + +"An idea!... Mebbe he'd lend you some." + +"Some what? And who?" + +"Money, of course! That feller Pell, I mean. He's rich, an' if he knowed +that you and his wife was old friends--I betcher he'd lend you some." He +paused, breathless, for he had run his sentences into one. Gilbert glared +at him, as if he thought he had gone stark mad. But Uncle Henry was not +afraid. "You won't ask him?" he inquired. + +"Certainly not. What are you raving about, anyhow? Cut out this sort of +talk, Uncle. You're getting on my nerves." + +The old man simply switched his chair about. He had heard Gilbert in an +angry mood before, and he knew that nothing would follow his little burst +of wrath. "Oh, you make me tired, you young people," he raged. "I'd ask him +if it was me, you can bet I would!" + +"_You_ would," was all that Gilbert replied. Sarcasm was in his voice. + +"First you won't marry Hardy's daughter and now you won't ask him for +money," Uncle Henry pursued the subject. + +Gilbert was genuinely angry now. "Oh, keep quiet! I'm sick of your plans." + +"Yes, but if you ain't goin' to do nothing, I am!" + +His nephew wouldn't trust himself to hear another word. He turned on his +heel and left the old man. + +Uncle Henry was shaking with excitement. He lifted his hand, smote the arm +of his chair, and cried out after the vanishing figure of his nephew, "You +make me sick, you gol darn fool!" He was almost in tears. "Gol darn the gol +darn luck, anyhow!" + +At that moment, Lucia Pell came down the little stairway. She had discarded +her riding-habit, and now looked equally lovely in a simple frock of blue. + +"What's the matter?" she inquired, seeing at once that something was +troubling Uncle Henry. + +"What _ain't_ the matter?" the old fellow screamed, but glad of someone to +whom he could unburden his overflowing heart. "Gol darn it! By gollies! I +got it again!" he cried, seized with another inspiration. He eyed the +radiant Lucia, as a miser might appraise a new gold coin. "Mis' Pell," he +said, twirling his chair so that he caught a better glimpse of her. + +"Yes?" she said, half-way down. + +"You and Gil's old friends, ain't you?" The question was as direct as +anything could be. + +"Yes," was the equally direct answer. + +"Want to do him a good turn?" asked the scheming old man. + +"Of course. What do you mean?" She was at his side now. + +"He's got a chance to make a swell marriage," announced Uncle Henry. + +"What?" There was a curious catch in Lucia's voice. + +"A rich marriage," Uncle Henry went on, almost smacking his lips over the +words. + +Lucia went over to the window, so that she would not face the invalid. + +"Not as rich as yourn, of course," Uncle Henry pursued; "but rich for +him--and he won't do it." He waited for her to say something; but she did +not speak. There was a pause. Lucia looked out at the baking valley, and +off to the far mountains, and the ticking of the clock could be heard like +steady rain in a cistern. Then she went over to the table near the alcove, +where a few books were scattered about. She opened one, and pretended to +read. All the time Uncle Henry's eyes never left her. And she knew he was +searching her thoughts. + +"He won't?" she finally said. + +"No--the gol darn fool!" the old fellow screamed again. + +"Does he--does he love her?" Lucia brought herself to ask. + +Quick as a flash Uncle Henry came back: "Sure he does! It's the only thing +for him to do. He ain't got no right to be livin' alone. All he don't get +skinned out of he gives away. Never gets nothin' to eat. If ever a feller +needed a nice, sensible wife to take care of him, it's Gil. I know. Ain't I +his uncle?" + +"You think she would--make him--a good wife?" Lucia Pell got the words out +somehow, never lifting her eyes from the printed page. + +"The finest in the world!" Uncle Henry affirmed. "Now, looky here, Mis' +Pell: He won't listen to me--funny the way folks are about their relatives. +But I was thinkin' that mebbe if you was to ask him--" + +Lucia was startled. "I?" she said. + +The wheel chair bobbed about. "Yes. You and him bein' old friends that way, +mebbe he'd pay some attention to you. Make him see what a gol darn fool he +is and give him h----. Give it to him good! It's a wonderful chance. He'll +never get another. Darned if I see how he ever got this. But he has. And +what we gotter do is to make him take it." He paused; but she said nothing. +He waited a moment. Then,--"What do you say? Will you?" + +"You--think he should?" + +"I know darn well he should!" + +Lucia closed the book and put it down. She looked straight at Uncle Henry. +"I should think he would see it for himself." + +Uncle Henry showed his disgust--not for her, but for his nephew. "Aw, he's +always been like this. I remember five or six years ago, he told me then he +wouldn't ask no woman to marry him until he got a lot of money. False +pride, I call it. What'd the world come to if everybody felt like that?" + +"You think it's only pride that's keeping him from it?" Her voice was very +low. + +"Well, what else could it be, I'd like to know." + +"Maybe it's because he hasn't a lot of money. He may be honest in that." + +"Well, mebbe you're right. That may be it. What do you say?" + +"All right," Lucia Pell said. But she turned away. + +Uncle Henry was delighted. "That's the idee! Hooray!" Had he been able to +stand, he would have risen and given three rousing cheers. He hadn't been +so happy in years. "We'll put it over yet, by heck!" + +He hadn't seen his nephew come into the room, with a ball of stout twine in +his hands. + +"Put what over?" Gilbert asked. + +Uncle Henry was taken aback, but he quickly covered his confusion. + +"Oh, somethin'. It's a secret." He turned and addressed Lucia Pell. "Don't +forget," he admonished, and swiftly wheeled himself out into the yard +again. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +WHEREIN AN OLD LOVE AWAKENS, PELL REVEALS HIS TRUE COLORS, A MORTGAGE IS +ABOUT TO BE FORECLOSED, THE CONTENTS OF A SATCHEL ARE MADE KNOWN, UNCLE +HENRY SPRINGS A SENSATION, AND PELL TAKES AN OPTION + + +Lucia's eyes were following Uncle Henry's heaving chair; for the yard was +full of little stones, and the invalid bumped along, not always able to +keep on a smooth track. She smiled as she watched him. + +"What was he talking about?" Gilbert asked, kneeling on the floor, and +folding one rug that had slipped away. + +"Oh, nothing," Lucia Pell answered. "You know how old people babble on +sometimes about nothing." She turned and looked at him. Still the same +handsome Gilbert! "What are you doing?" + +"Nothing. You know how young people go on doing nothing. I'm just rolling +up these rugs and blankets. I'm going to send them away." + +Lucia saw the beautiful pattern of one Navajo as Gilbert held it, unfolded, +from the floor. She came over to him. + +"You're sending them away--when they're so exquisite?" she asked. "This +flaming one--" she picked it up and draped it around her. "Why, it's like +the sunset. And you do have such beautiful sunsets here, Gil." + +"I got them up especially, in honor of your visit," Jones said; and then he +remembered how many times a remark like that must have been made, by many a +lover, as if it were quite original, as if no one had ever thought of it +before! + +But Lucia took him seriously, dropped the wonderful blanket and went over +to the door again. "I never grow tired of this view, Gil. It's almost as if +God were an artist and had spilt the colors from His palette. And yet not +that, quite. The colors are more like jewels. The morning's opals; the +noon's pearls; the evening wears rubies in her hair. There's a sort of +beauty that makes one ache. It seems to me sometimes as if I couldn't stand +it--just the way the Grand Canyon got hold of me. Doesn't it affect you +that way--you who have so much poetry in you?" + +"Indeed it does, Lucia. I've often watched that sky until I've forgotten +all about my cattle--both of them!" He laughed, and reached for the twine. +He was always turning their serious moments into a jest. As long as she had +been here with her husband, he kept at a distance. + +Lucia saw his hand go out. "The string?" she said. "I'll get it." She left +the door, and handed him the twine which he had put on the table. + +"Thank you," said Gilbert. "Do you mind putting your finger--there? Never +mind. I think I can do it, after all." + +"Oh, do let me help you," she said. "I'd like to." And she leaned down, +knelt beside him, and held her white forefinger on the cord. + +How it happened, neither of them ever knew. But a sudden electric thrill +ran through their veins. Something hammered in their brains. For a brief +instant, their hearts beat as though the whole world must hear. He had +touched her finger, and, before he was aware of it, he had dared to lean +over and kiss it. Not a word was said--there was no time for words. They +did not need speech to understand. It was the old, but ever new experience +of the ages: two who loved each other had found out in the twinkling of an +eye--and she belonged to another. There was a moment of terrible silence. +Then, + +"I'm sorry," was all Gilbert could get out. + +"But you touched my hand many a time, in the old days," Lucia said. + +"That was different. You're married now. Oh, there is a vast change since +then. I could not--Forgive me, my dear." He turned away his face. He did +not want her to read what was in his eyes. "Shall I send them, or would you +rather take them with you?" he asked, hiding behind that commonplace +question the emotion he felt. His voice held a note of pain. + +Lucia rose. "You mean you want to give these wonderful rugs and blankets to +me?--these priceless things." + +"More than that. I want you to have them--to remind you--sometimes of--" He +broke off, like a frightened lad. + +"As though I should ever need reminding! How dull you men can be! But I +don't want to take them from you, Gil." + +"I'm giving up this ranch," he told her, "I shan't want them any more. +Please take them, for my sake." He made a gesture, as though they were the +last of his poor possessions. + +"I thought you loved it here?" she said. + +"I do--in a way." + +"Then why are you giving it up?" was the natural question. + +He hesitated, not knowing what to answer. "I thought I'd try something else +for awhile. I hate to have to tell you this, Lucia; but the fact is, +I--I've got to leave to-day. I was going to tell you before, only I was +hoping that something might turn up at the last minute, and--well, it +hasn't. That's all." + +There was nothing she could say; and they stood looking at each other in +silence--a silence that was far more eloquent than speech. Gilbert went +over and sat on the case, and Lucia finally said: + +"Then we won't see each other again?" + +He nodded, sorrowfully. Lucia Pell went over to the door and looked out +once more. He watched her, covertly--her every gesture held a new meaning +for him now. The silence continued. At length she turned back and faced +him. He could not stand it, and bent quickly over the rugs and blankets. + +"I don't know what to say, Gil." She moved closer to him. "I've had a +wonderful time--you know that. I want to thank you for it. You've been +awfully kind to us." + +"Having you here is all the thanks I want," he answered. He had everything +snugly packed now. + +"I'm glad we happened to meet again. Though it does seem strange, doesn't +it, that we should run across each other after all these years!" + +He stood up straight. "All these years! You talk as if you were a hundred!" +And he tried to smile. + +"I am--nearly," she laughed. "I'm twenty-four, you know." + +"Really? It doesn't seem possible!" + +"I was eighteen when you went away. And that's nearly six years ago. Time +flies, doesn't it?" She smiled at her bromidic remark, and sat down; but he +did not reply, "Gil," she said at last. He looked up. "Why didn't you come +to see me before I went away?" + +"I don't know. I suppose--" + +"You went away from Maine without my knowing--without even coming to say +good-bye. Was that fair, was that the thing for a man like you to do?" + +How he wished she had not brought up these burning memories! + +"I was broke, and I--" he managed to explain. + +Lucia knew what he must be feeling now. She got up and went over to his +side; she did not dare place her hand in his. Never must there be again +that electric current between them. "But you're all right now, aren't you, +Gil?" + +He seemed abstracted, suddenly lost in another world. "Huh?" he uttered. +Then, as if coming to himself, "Oh, my, yes! I'm doing splendidly now, +Lucia!" + +"I'm so glad, Gil. But you haven't answered my question yet." + +"About my not coming to say good-bye?" + +She nodded. + +"It was pride, I suppose," he went on. + +"Very foolish pride. And life is so short. You hurt me a great deal." + +"I'm sorry. What more can one say? If I--" + +"I thought I had done something to offend you," she said, standing very +still, and looking far beyond him now, as though viewing their whole +unhappy past. "And it's worried me even until this very day. I didn't do +anything to offend you, did I, Gil?" + +"You? You, Lucia?" he cried. "You couldn't do anything to offend me. Surely +you must know that." He said it as a man says such things to the one woman +he loves. + +"It was only pride?" she was anxious to know again. "Because you were poor! +Gil! Did you think so little of me as that?" There was a half-sob in her +voice. + +"I hoped to pick a fortune off a tree somewhere, and come back and surprise +you with it. I was going to buy an automobile--one of those low ones as +long as a Pullman car--and fill it with roses, and come dashing up to your +front door and take you for a ride through the hills. It was to be autumn. +I had even that fixed," he laughed. "Oh, I had everything thought out! And +you were going to be so proud of me!... But I couldn't find a fortune-tree +anywhere...." He looked away, embarrassed. He hadn't meant to tell her +this. + +"Gil!" she cried. + +"I guess they don't grow any more. At least, not in this part of the +country." He rose, a bit wearily, and walked over to the mantel-piece. + +"What did you do, Gil?" she asked, her eyes following him. + +"Well, I was a time-keeper on a railroad and weigh-boss in a coal mine. +After that I punched cows until I got uncle to come here. Then the war +started, and--that's all." + +Then she asked what a woman always asks. + +"Why didn't you ever write to me, Gil?" + +"I was waiting for some good news to tell you. I felt you would consider me +a failure--a rank failure. I couldn't have stood that. Women don't know how +proud men are about that." + +"Maybe we don't--and maybe we do, Gil." She went closer to him. "Why don't +you marry?" she dared to inquire. + +He was startled. "Marry?" he repeated. + +"Yes; you need someone to take care of you--someone to look after your +daily needs--every man does." + +"I guess there's no doubt about that. But it ought to be a guardian in my +case; or maybe a keeper." She could see that he was stalling for time, and +trying to laugh off a topic that was serious indeed to him. + +"We're such old friends, Gil," she said, looking at his handsome face. "I +don't like to go--to think of you always, like this--alone." + +"I still have uncle," he reminded her. + +"Oh, don't joke, Gil! You need a woman--a wife--someone to mother you." + +"All those?" + +Why couldn't he be serious for a moment? She asked him that. + +"I don't dare to, Lucia." His voice was low. + +She was a bit puzzled. "Why?" + +"Because the minute you begin to take life seriously, it takes _you_ that +way, and then--" + +"But don't you see what it would mean to you, dear Gil? To have someone +always here; to kiss you when you go; to greet you when you come back; to +laugh with you when you are glad; and comfort you when things go wrong. To +give you the sympathy, the understanding that a man finds only in a woman's +heart. Don't you see, Gil?" + +"Yes, of course I see," he said, his head bowed a little. + +"Then why don't you, Gil? She'd make you very happy--a woman like that. I +want you to understand." + +"Don't you suppose I do? Don't you suppose I've always understood, ever +since--" + +"Ever since when, Gil? Then you have known such a woman?" + +He moved his head. + +"You have!... And you cared for her?" + +He nodded again. + +"You loved her?" she hurried on. + +His voice was hoarse. "Yes." The monosyllable got out somehow. + +"You still love her. I know it, I can see it. Who is she, Gil? I want to +know." + +"Don't you know?" he asked, and looked her straight in the eyes. + +Before she could answer, there were footsteps outside, and Pell could be +heard whistling. He rushed in now, the bag still clutched in his hand. At +once he sensed something strange in their attitude, and he eyed both of +them shrewdly, covertly, briefly. Not a word was uttered. He threw the bag +on the table, as though he had noticed nothing, and in the most +matter-of-fact tone said, + +"Say, how about dinner?" + +"It isn't ready yet," Gilbert informed him. Lucia took advantage of her +husband's question to move over toward the door. + +"Why, good God, man, it's nearly three o'clock! We're not on a hunger +strike, are we?" And he laughed at his own dull witticism. + +"I'll see about it now," Jones promised. + +"Haven't got a drink, have you, while we're waiting? Not that I need an +appetizer! And it's damned hot, I know, to guzzle whiskey." + +"There's nothing good in the place. But I think the cook has some tequila." + +"Tequila? What's that, Jones?" + +"It's a Mexican drink." + +"Has it got a kick in it?" the other wanted to know. + +"I never heard anybody complain," Gilbert smiled. "After two or three of +'em, I never saw anybody able to complain!" + +He started toward the kitchen. + +"What does it taste like?" said Pell, detaining him. + +"Oh, sort of like gasoline with bichloride of mercury in it," Jones +answered his eager questioner. + +"No wood alcohol?" suspiciously. Pell was always looking out for himself. + +"Oh, it's safe enough, I assure you. Would you like to try some of it?" +Gilbert suggested. + +Pell thought a moment--but only a moment. "I'll try anything once, and +anything to drink more than once--if I'm alive the second time." + +His host smiled. "I'll get you some if there's any left," and went to the +kitchen to see. He couldn't help wondering why a man like Morgan Pell, +with so many responsibilities, should wish to drink tequila. + +Left alone, there was that strange silence between Lucia and her husband +which so often occurred nowadays. A barrier was between them, none the less +real because it was invisible. She knew his moods so well, and she dreaded +the things he might say, all his inhibitions gone, if he drank any of this +deadly Mexican stuff. She would have halted Gilbert had she dared; but she +knew that any such action on her part would have aroused Pell the more, +inflamed him to anger; and, like most women of fine breeding, she dreaded a +scene more than anything in the world. All that she said now was merely, + +"I wish you wouldn't do that." + +"Do what?" Pell asked, jerking out the two words in a high staccato. He +hated to be questioned, particularly by his wife. His hands reached for the +satchel he had brought in. + +"Order a man around in his own house." + +"And why not, I'd like to know?" Pell inquired. "Who's he, anyhow, and what +difference does it make?" + +Lucia remained perfectly calm. "Well, if you can't see, of course--" + +"There's no use your trying to tell me. Is that what you were going to +say?" His face showed his rage. + +She did not answer. That infuriated him all the more. + +"I see what you mean! But I don't agree," Pell pursued. "This Jones person +is nothing in my life. And why I should be deprived of my liquor and forced +to eat burnt beans three times a day, I can't see." He emitted a sound that +might have been designated a laugh. + +"But--while we--" Lucia started to argue, and then thought better of it. + +"Why doesn't he set his liquor out and see that the meals are right, +himself? Then there wouldn't be any need of my saying anything." His tone +was brutally frank. He really disliked Jones, and would be glad when they +could get back to New York. There was nothing here worth his consideration. +Sturgis had been stupid to think so. + +"But when we are enjoying his hospitality--" + +"Enjoying? Ha! Suffering, I guess you mean!" And Pell's head went back and +he gave out a guffaw. + +Lucia waited for his false mirth to vanish. Then, "But you seemed very +anxious to come here." + +"Yes; because I thought he lived in a house, not a--" + +The sentence was not completed; for Gilbert came back with a bottle of the +deadly tequila in his hand. + +"I'm terribly sorry," he apologized, "to have to tell you that dinner will +be late." + +"You mean later, don't you?" Pell edited the remark. + +Gilbert handed him the bottle. "Maybe this will atone for the postponed +banquet," he smiled. He got the water-bottle hanging on the peg by the +fireplace, and brought that to Pell also. He tried to be as gracious as he +could to anyone under his roof. + +Pell took a swig out of the bottle--a long one. "Good God!" he exclaimed, +his face almost purple, his brow puckered like a dwarf's. + +"What's the matter?" Gilbert said. And he handed him the water-bottle. + +"It's poison!" Pell cried. And as if he really believed it, and as though +water were an antidote, he grabbed the water-bottle and drank from it +swiftly and loudly. It was horrible the way he guzzled the liquid down. An +animal would have done better. + +"The Mexicans like their liquor strong," young Jones explained. "That's +what's the matter with the cook." + +Lucia was puzzled. "What do you mean?" she asked. + +"Simply that he's been imbibing again. That's why dinner is so late. But +we're getting used to it. There is nothing to do but stand it." + +"Drunk?" Pell asked. + +"Quite," answered Gilbert. + +"Well, I don't know as you can blame him," Pell excused. "I'd be drunk too +if I had to live here. What are you going to do about it?" He hung the +water-bottle in its place on the peg. + +"Red's trying to sober him up," Gilbert said. + +They had had enough of the cook, Pell decided within himself. Dinner was +inevitably late, and that was all there was about it. So he changed the +subject abruptly. + +"This ranch belongs to you, doesn't it?" he put the question direct to +Jones. + +"What's that?" + +"I asked you," went on Pell, a little disconcerted at having to repeat his +question, "if you own this ranch." + +"I--er--yes. Why?" Gilbert said. + +Pell was quick to notice the other's discomfiture. "I have a friend who +thinks he wants to go into the cattle business. He asked me to look him up +a place. It's his own money, of course." + +"Then I'd advise him not to buy here," said Gilbert, much to Pell's +amazement. + +"Why?" + +"It's too near the border," Jones answered. "The bandits come over and +steal all your cattle. It's a rotten situation. I'm sorry I ever came down +here." + +"That makes it all the better," Pell was shrewd enough to say. "Then he'd +lose his money quick, and be satisfied." And he laughed at what he thought +a witticism. + +Uncle Henry's wheel chair crossed the sill at that moment. His face was +full of news. "Hardy's coming!" he informed those in the room. + +"A man to see me on a matter of business," Gilbert remembered. "Will you +excuse me?" He turned to Pell. + +"But I want to talk to you myself," the latter reminded him. + +But young Jones had gone to the door. "I'm sorry. This is imperative, and I +must see him." He turned definitely as if to go. + +"But I was here first," Morgan Pell argued. He hated to be beaten by this +stripling. + +"I regret that I must insist," Gilbert said. And there was a duel of eyes, +as well as of wits, before Jones turned away, easily the victor. After all, +it was his own house, his own ranch. His visitor was wise enough to realize +that. He walked over to the table and took the tequila bottle up again. +"I'll have another drink, if you don't mind," he said, to Gilbert's back. + +"Drink?" yelled Uncle Henry from his chair, frantic at the thought of any +more of their precious liquor being consumed. It was hard enough to get, +even when one had plenty of money. + +"Help yourself," said Gilbert, not a little ashamed of the protest in Uncle +Henry's voice. + +"While I'm waiting," Pell laughed; and, taking the bottle, he went out. + +Uncle Henry could scarcely control himself. He switched his chair in his +nephew's direction. "Say," he wanted to know, "have you been holding out on +me?" + +"It's only tequila," Gilbert tried to pacify him. + +"I don't care if it's only varnish!" cried Uncle Henry, his voice rising +high and shrill. "And you let him go and take the whole bottle!" He pounded +the arm of his chair, always his last resort. + +Gilbert paid no attention to him. He went over to the table, as though he +hadn't said a word, and began looking for a letter in one of the drawers. +Almost immediately he laid his hand on it, and, turning to Lucia, said: + +"If you'll excuse me?" + +"Certainly. I must go and pack anyway." And she started toward the steps +that led upstairs. + +Gilbert went through the alcove; and no sooner had his broad shoulders +disappeared than Uncle Henry turned to Lucia Pell and cried: + +"Hey! Wait a minute." + +Lucia was astonished. She had one foot on the step, and she turned about to +see if Uncle Henry was actually addressing her. There was, obviously, no +one else to address; but she thought the cook must have come in when her +back was turned. She glared at the invalid, and said nothing. + +"Did you ask him?" Uncle Henry went on, paying not the slightest heed to +her surprised glance. + +"Ask who what?" Lucia asked. She was not a little interested now. She came +back into the room. + +"Ask him about marryin'--you know. I gotter find out because Hardy's +comin'." No speech could have been plainer and balder. "Did you?" + +Lucia was nonplussed at the old man's crude directness. "Yes--I mean no. I +don't remember." + +"Don't remember!" Uncle Henry yelled. "But that's what I left you here for! +We had it all framed up! Why didn't you?" + +Lucia's head drooped a bit. "We were talking about something else." + +The crabbed man was inflamed by this reply. "What was you talkin' about +that was so gol darned important that you forgot the only important thing +there was to talk about?... Well?" he cried, when she said nothing. "By +gollies! I remember now! You was the gal he wouldn't ask to marry him +because he didn't have no money!" He did not notice that his nephew had +come back from the other room just in time to hear this last remark. He +went on relentlessly to Lucia: "And me like a poor boob forgettin' all +about it until now!" He suddenly saw Gilbert, and, not a whit abashed, +turned on him. "So that's why you won't marry Hardy's daughter! I see it +all now! I've been as blind as a hoot-owl!" + +There came the sound of a Ford stopping outside, and footsteps approached +up the path that led to the adobe. + +"It's all right, Lucia," Gilbert said, and she went upstairs, almost +weeping. Then he whirled about and glared at his uncle. "It's a good +thing--no, I don't know what I'm saying. You're an invalid, or I'd strike +you, despite your years, Uncle Henry. For heaven's sake, can't you learn to +mind your own business?" + +"I ain't got any. You robbed me of it!" the old man flamed back. "Now I'll +mind yours for a change. Make a monkey out o' me, will you, gol darn you!" + +As he was starting for the door, he bumped directly into Jasper Hardy and +his daughter Angela and the ubiquitous "Red." The trio had come over in the +Ford. + +Hardy, tall and thin, wore a funereal black coat, despite the heat, and a +somber dark Stetson hat. He must have been fifty or more. His skin looked +bloodless, and his eyes still had that hard, pale look. It was difficult to +trust eyes like those. He ambled, rather than walked, and his lean, lanky +legs would have made him a fortune on the stage. It was difficult to +believe, as everyone always said, that the lovely little Angela, with her +bright black eyes and her rose-red cheeks, was the daughter of this +sinister man. She was as attractive as a rose;--a typical frontier maiden, +romantic, emotional, peppery when occasion demanded--just the kind to take +the fancy of an honest soul like "Red." His eyes followed her wherever she +went, as ever. She could not sit down or stand up or open her delicate lips +but that he stared at her, hoping he could be of some service to her. +Sometimes he prayed that some slight accident would befall her in order +that he might prove his devotion. If she would only be sent to jail, that +he could bring her soup and pass it through the bars of her cell! He +dreamed this once, and awakened in a cold perspiration; for Angela (in the +dream) realized his worth then; and the Governor pardoned her, and they +were married at once and lived happily ever afterward. A Freudian lapse, +maybe, and a dream a little too sane, according to the psychologists, to +mean anything much; but rich in hidden meanings for poor "Red." Oh, that it +would come true! She had been so kind and sweet to him this morning. + +Hardy ambled into the room, and looked around in the most casual way. His +eye lit upon Uncle Henry first of all, naturally; for he had all but bumped +into him. + +"How are you, Smith?" he said. "Evenin'." + +And Angela piped up, to both uncle and nephew: "Good evening." + +Gilbert bowed. "How do you do? Won't you sit down?" And he pulled out a +chair for Angela. + +"No, thanks," Hardy said; but + +"Yes, thanks!" his daughter decided, and popped into a seat. "Red" loved +her for it. + +Hardy turned to young Jones. "Well?" was all he said. He referred to his +state of health--not that he cared how Gilbert felt. + +"Anything but," the latter answered. + +Jasper Hardy always went right to the point. He disliked equivocation; so +he rasped out immediately: + +"Have you got the money?" + +"No." + +Angela, who was tender-hearted, tried to intercede. + +"Now, father!" she pleaded. She hated this business. + +But Hardy paid not the slightest heed to her. He was a man of action, and +women shouldn't interfere--particularly young and pretty girls. + +"Then I reckon I'll have to foreclose," he went on relentlessly. "There's +nothing else to do." His hands closed tightly, and his hard eyes looked +even harder. + +"I'm afraid you're right," Gilbert said. "I was afraid it would be +inevitable. I couldn't have hoped for anything else." + +"I'm sorry," Jasper Hardy announced; but did not mean it. + +Gilbert told him so. "Moreover, I know how you got your money," the young +man was not afraid to say. + +"I know how he got mine, gol darn it!" Uncle Henry cried. Hardy glared at +him, seemed to smite him with his eyes. + +"I'm not in business for my health," he said coldly. + +"Nor for anybody else's," Uncle Henry, unabashed, told him. + +Angela feared there was going to be trouble. "Now, daddy, you mustn't--you +really mustn't--I feel--" + +But her father did not hear her. + +"The time's up at eight o'clock," was all he said, and looked sternly at +Gilbert, much as a judge who is pronouncing sentence looks at the prisoner +at the bar. + +"I know it," said Gilbert. + +"Now, daddy--" Angela began again. + +Hardy was angry at her repeated solicitation. "Will you let me alone? This +is my business," he said to her in a firm voice, "Remember that, and don't +attempt to put your finger in the pie. This is my business, I tell you." + +"Yes, I know daddy; but you needn't be so mean about it." + +"I'm a plain man, and I don't believe in beating about the bush. Get that +through your head--every one of you, I mean." + +"But you might at least be--" his daughter began once more. + +"Won't you please keep still?" His rage was mounting; and his brow +darkened. + +"I only want you to be nice about it, daddy," Angela persisted, sweetly. + +"How can anybody be nice about a thing like this?" said the man of iron. + +"I know I could be," Angela informed him. + +Her father looked at her. "Well, what would you do?" + +"Give him his ranch back, of course!" + +Jasper Hardy couldn't believe what he had heard, and from his own child. +"Well, for the love of heaven!" he cried, and almost burst out laughing. + +"We've more ranches now than we know what to do with. Everybody is aware of +that." + +Here was Uncle Henry's chance. "That's the idea!" he cried. "What do you +want it for, anyhow?" But no one paid any attention to him. + +"Oh, will you, daddy--for my sake?" Angela pleaded. + +Hardy was adamant. "Certainly not! What a stupid request. How did such +ideas come into your head?" + +"But I don't see why--" the unremitting Angela started to say. + +Her father was furious now, and tired of her prattle. He turned to "Red." +"Take her out doors, will you?" as though she were a child. + +"Red's" face gleamed as if a lantern had been lighted behind it. He turned +eagerly to Angela. "_Will_ I!" he cried. + +But Angela was scornful. How foolish of "Red" to think her father could +dismiss her in this way! She proceeded as though no such suggestion had +been made, and addressed her father once more, not in the least perturbed: + +"Of course, if you're going to be nasty about it--" Then, sweetly, to +Gilbert she continued: "Please don't think too badly of us, Mr. Jones. +Father doesn't really mean any harm." + +"No more'n a rattlesnake," Uncle Henry leaned out of his chair to whisper +in a voice that could be heard by everyone. + +"It's just that he doesn't know any better," Angela went on to Gilbert. +"He's really very neighborly when he wants to be." + +She rose, and "Red" offered her his arm; but she haughtily rejected it, and +went out the door, unaware that the devoted and humble "Red" followed her. + +Jasper Hardy was glad she had gone. He could speak freely now. He addressed +Jones. + +"Packed up yet?" he inquired, sarcastically, as though he meant to intimate +that his coming journey would be a pleasant one. + +Gilbert could have struck him; but he replied quietly: "I'll just put on my +hat and I'll be ready." + +But the literal-minded Hardy remarked: + +"Them crockery, and the rugs?" pointing to the articles significantly. + +"The rugs I'm presenting to a friend of mine. The crockery goes to the +cook. He has a family, you know." His irony was lost on the imperturbable +Hardy, who merely asked: + +"And you ain't got anything more to say, Jones?" He watched him closely. + +"Nothing of general interest." + +But Uncle Henry wasn't going to let matters end here. + +"I've got something to say," he announced like an oracle. "Your daughter +wants to marry him!" He imagined this would prove a thunderbolt; but Hardy +calmly asked: + +"How do you know that?" + +"Because she told me, that's how! And if only the gol darn fool would do it +like I want him to--" He addressed himself suddenly to his nephew, who now +stood on the other side of the table: "Aw, come on. Be a good feller, won't +you?" + +Again this outlandish interfering on the part of Uncle Henry! Was the old +fellow losing his reason? There was no privacy in their affairs--everything +was an open book to anyone who came to the adobe. It was getting to be +unbearable. Gilbert had controlled himself long enough in the presence of +others. He was sick and tired of the old man's meddling. + +"Keep still!" he warned him, and shook his finger in his face, "Keep still, +I say!" His cheeks were scarlet with rage. The blood pounded in his veins. + +The invalid never lost his courage. "You won't marry her?" was what he +said. + +"How can I, you--you--" Gilbert could scarcely stand it any longer. + +"Gol darn, the gol darn--" cried Uncle Henry; and then he swerved on Jasper +Hardy: "Maybe you can persuade him," he suggested. + +"Persuade him to what?" + +"To marry her," Smith brazenly said. + +"I don't want him to marry her," the father was honest enough to say. + +This had never occurred to Uncle Henry. "What's the matter with him?" he +asked, his eyes opening wide in amazement. + +"It would take too long to tell you." Hardy considered the argument closed; +but Uncle Henry came right back again: + +"But he's my nevyer!" + +"That's one of my main reasons," Hardy cruelly announced; and the only +come-back poor Uncle Henry had was an exasperated, "Oh, is that so!" +drawled out peevishly, weakly. + +"I want his ranch, not him," Hardy went on. He might have been discussing +someone not in the room. + +"But he's a fine young feller, if I do say so!" Uncle Henry came to +Gilbert's rescue, after the manner of all relatives when an outsider steps +in with criticism. + +"Only a minute ago I heard you call him a gol darn fool!" Hardy +triumphantly reminded him. + +"There you are," said Gilbert, addressing his uncle. "That's what you +get--" + +"Do you think I want my darter to marry a gol darn fool?" Hardy fired back +at the old man. + +Uncle Henry was flabbergasted, completely done for, for the moment. "Well, +what the--" But he could get no farther. + +Jasper Hardy looked at Gilbert, "Well, now that's settled." + +Uncle Henry butted in once more. "You won't let her?" + +"Let her what?" A pair of steely eyes were fixed on the questioner. + +"Marry him. Won't you?" + +"Of course not. What are you talking about, you old fool?" + +Uncle Henry was not to be outdone. He whisked around, facing the door, and +called at the top of his voice: + +"Angely! Angely!" + +From the yard came back, "Yes, I'm coming!" and Hardy's daughter ran in, +with "Red" at her heels. + +"Did you call me?" she wanted to know, looking at all three. + +"Yes; I did," said Uncle Henry. "I wanted to tell you that it ain't no use. +They won't neither of 'em do nothin'." + +"Who won't?" asked Angela, mystified. She hadn't an idea what the old man +was talking about. + +"The poor stiffs!" said Uncle Henry. + +"Do what?" Angela pursued. + +"I asked 'em!" the invalid whined. + +The girl grew impatient. "For goodness' sake, asked them what?" + +"To marry you, of course!" + +Angela thought she must be dreaming. + +"You--asked him--to marry me?" She looked about her, bewildered. + +"Yes; and he turned you down!" + +Surely now this must be a dream! "Red," too, was in a daze, suffering +vicariously for his adored one. + +"Oh!" cried Angela, when a full realization of what Uncle Henry meant came +over her. + +Uncle Henry went on: "Like your own payrent--the stony-hearted old +reptile!" + +"Oh, Gil--" began Angela in tears. + +"Go on--you ask 'em!" suggested Uncle Henry. + +"Gil--" the girl got out the first syllable of his name, and no more; for +her little handkerchief was at her pretty nose. + +"I'm sorry," said Gilbert, gallantly, going to her. "Please don't feel +badly about it." + +"Don't--don't speak to me!" Angela sniffed, and stamped her dainty foot. +"Don't look at me! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you all!" Blinded with +rage and tears, she crossed the room, and stumbled directly into Uncle +Henry's chair, and all but tipped him over. "Red" followed her, +solicitously. + +"Now, Angela--" he said, and tried to grasp her arm. "Remember, I'm here!" + +But all the thanks he got was a wild, "Get out of my way!" and he found +himself pushed aside, into a corner. Another of her unsuspected tantrums! + +"My God!" ejaculated Uncle Henry, furious at Angela's accident, which so +directly concerned himself, "but everybody's unreasonable to-day!" He +turned harshly on his nephew. "You make me sick, you! Here am I doing my +gol darndest to save the mess you've made, and you won't even--" He broke +off, unable, in his wrath, to continue. His eye lit on Hardy. "Look here," +he cried, in desperation, "ain't there no way out of this thing? It was my +money that bought this ranch, you know. And everybody knows it! The last +ten thousand dollars I had in the world!" There was a sob in his voice on +the last words. + +Hardy looked at him, but with no pity in his gaze. "That's your lookout, +Smith. Everybody for himself--that's my motto." + +"And you'd throw me, old and sick, a invalid, out into the streets?" Uncle +Henry whined. No one could get more pathos into his tones than Uncle Henry +when he wanted to do so. + +"No; I'd let you wheel yourself out," Jasper Hardy, again the +literal-minded Hardy, said. It was one of the meanest remarks that even he +had ever made. + +"Say, ain't you got no heart at all?" Uncle Henry wanted to know. + +"I used to have; but it cost me too much money," was Hardy's explanation +and vindication. "Sentiment? Bosh!" And he made a gesture of deep disgust. + +Uncle Henry wanted to put a curse on him! "Well, all I hope is that some +day you'll go broke and they'll bounce you out into Main Street!" He +chuckled in his chair. + +"The line forms on the left," the imperturbable Hardy said. "You're the +fifth that's had that hope this year. I don't care a rap what you think, +old feller! Remember that!" + +A shadow appeared on the doorsill; and Morgan Pell came in. His face was +harder than ever. It was obvious that he had not thrown away the bottle of +tequila until he had consumed the contents. His eye lit on Hardy at once, +but he said nothing to him. Instead, he meandered toward Gilbert and +observed, insolently enough: + +"Look here, you've kept me waiting too long. What does this mean, eh?" + +"I'm sorry," Gilbert returned. "I forgot all about you for the moment. Oh," +he suddenly remembered that Hardy and Pell were unacquainted, "you two +gentlemen ought to know each other. Mr. Pell, shake hands with Mr. Hardy." + +Pell gave the other a curt nod. "How are you?" was all he could bring +himself to say. + +"Pleased to meet you," answered Hardy, and turned away, "Red" and Angela, +interested spectators of this foolish proceeding, sat together on the +little settee by the window near the door, and smiled at the +shillyshallying of two grown men who should have known better. +Civilization! A mockery, surely, when two men couldn't be amenable in the +presence of others--two men who apparently had no reason for treating each +other this way. + +Pell suddenly addressed Jones. "I forgot to tell you that we're going this +afternoon." + +"I'm sorry," said his host. + +"And before I go," Pell went on, "there's a matter of business I want to +talk over with you. So if this gentleman is through--" he indicated Hardy +with his thumb. + +"Oh, I'll be through, all right--at eight o'clock to-night!" Jasper Hardy +announced, and drew several silver dollars out of his trousers pocket and +rattled them about in his hand, significantly. + +"What do you mean, eight o'clock?" Pell wondered. + +Hardy's eyes pierced him through and through. "When I foreclose the +mortgage I hold on this ranch. Understand now?" + +"When you foreclose...." Pell repeated the words as if he had not quite +comprehended. Then he said to young Jones: "You said this ranch belongs to +you?" What was the matter with him? Was his mind clouding? The stuff he had +drunk? He put his hand to his forehead. + +"It does," Gilbert explained. "You see, it isn't eight o'clock yet." A +faint smile came to his lips. + +Hardy failed to see the humor of the situation. "It's as good as eight +o'clock, as far as he's concerned." And he rattled the silver coins again. + +"Oh, is that so?" said Pell, beginning to see daylight. To young Jones he +said: "How far is it to town?" + +"Twenty miles, I should say." + +Pell thought a second, "Is that flivver of yours working, Jones?" + +"In a way." + +Pell thought harder. "We've got plenty of time," he said, as if to himself. +"Five hours! Get your hat," turning to the young man. + +Gilbert was confused. "What's the idea?" + +"We're going to pay the mortgage, of course. How much is it?" + +"Shouldn't you have asked that first--as a good business man?" + +"Answer me: how much is it?" + +"Ten thousand dollars," came the quick response. + +"And your equity?" Pell pursued, businesslike enough now. + +"Another ten thousand." + +He thought Morgan Pell would be stunned. Instead, he merely said, "I'll +give you twenty thousand. That'll pay the mortgage and give you your ten +back. You can give me an option while I'm arranging payment. Get me? +That'll save time." + +"You mean you'll give me twenty thousand dollars for this ranch?" Gilbert +said, unable to understand. + +"Exactly. Will you take it?" + +"You bet your life he'll take it!" cried Uncle Henry, whom everyone had +forgotten in the excitement of the moment. He rolled his chair expertly to +the table, and peered into his nephew's face, fearing he would make a fool +of himself once more. He was trembling with excitement. + +"Then that's settled," Pell announced. + +Unnoticed, Lucia had come to the top of the stairway, and stood listening +to every word. And Hardy, who had been trying his best to get a word in +edgewise, finally managed to cry out: + +"Wait a minute!" + +No one paid any attention to him. Gilbert was in deep meditation. He turned +to Pell. "But I don't want to be under any obligation to you," he said. + +"You won't," the other affirmed, and anxiety was in his voice. "Well, is it +a go?" + +"A go?" yelled Uncle Henry, unable to restrain himself. "It's gone!" + +Hardy stepped in between Pell and Jones. + +"Hold on, there! You can't do this." + +Pell looked him squarely in the face, "Why not, I'd like to know." + +"You mean you'd do me out of this property at the last minute?" Jasper +Hardy asked. + +Pell smiled. "That's my specialty!" + +Indignation was in every fiber of Hardy's gaunt frame. He was losing his +temper, and he was wise enough to know that that would never do. The +unforgivable sin was to lose control of oneself. He must hold on to his +voice, his movements; but a nest of hornets, under attack, could not have +been angrier. "I protest!" he said, as calmly as he could. "Here I been +settin' around waitin' for this place for five years! You can't come here +an' take it away from me like this! No, sir, I won't have it!" + +"Look here," Gilbert stepped in and said. "You're getting your money! What +are you boiling about?" + +"Red" had been listening attentively. He came close to Gilbert now, and +said, "He wants the place. Didn't he just say so?" + +"The place?" Gilbert repeated. "What the devil does he want the place for?" + +Pell was growing impatient. There was too much quibbling. "We're losing +time. Come on, let's get things settled." + +Jones, however, was not to be hurried. "But I want to know why he wants +this place so much." His suspicions were thoroughly aroused. + +No one had observed Uncle Henry, who had silently wheeled his chair about +until he got to the table, where Pell had left his satchel long ago. Like a +curious old woman he now picked it up, brazenly opened it, and exclaimed: + +"Hey! What the Sam Hill!" and backed away; but not until he had dipped his +hands into the bag. + +"What's the matter?" Gilbert asked, turning. + +"It's full o' dirt! Just dirt!" Uncle Henry cried, and glanced about to see +the effect of his surprising information. + +"Dirt?" Gilbert said, not understanding. + +"Yes, look!" And the old man pointed to the bag. + +"But whose bag is it?" Gilbert persisted. + +Uncle Henry lifted a thin finger and directed it to Pell. "His'n!" he said. + +But Gilbert was still in a daze. + +"But what in the world could anybody be taking specimens of the soil around +here for?" he inquired, and then began to think. + +"Just to show the character of the ground, to see what will grow best," +Pell hastened to explain. + +"But it won't grow nothin'--not even rocks, an' you know it," the occupant +of the wheel chair said. Then a new thought came to him, and he shot out, +"By golly, I got it! He's an oil man, ain't he?" + +Pell, furious, cried, "Oh, shut up! You old busybody!" + +"He wants to buy this ranch because there's oil here!" Uncle Henry went on, +not dismayed in the least at the other's insult. + +"Bah!" Pell scornfully ejaculated. + +Gilbert's face was a study. His eyes went from one to another in the room. +"Oil?" he said. "Oil?" + +"Yes, an' that's why _he_ wants it, too!" cried Uncle Henry, pointing to +Hardy this time, "The big skin!" + +Pell took up the satchel--the little bag that had caused such a big +sensation--and walked over to Uncle Henry's chair. + +"Why, you poor old dotard, there's no oil in these specimens. You can smell +'em yourself if you want to," he said. But there was something in his +manner of the lady who doth protest too much. + +"No, I can't," Uncle Henry was swift to deny. "My smeller's no good." He +sniffed comically--as if that proved his point. + +"Let _him_ examine them, then," suggested Pell, holding the satchel out to +Gilbert, who stood on the other side of the table. + +But Gilbert said nothing. It was Uncle Henry who again blurted out: + +"That don't prove nothin'. Mebbe he hasn't found the oil yet. But it's +here! If it ain't, why should you be fightin' so hard to get this rotten +place? Tell me that, will you? Nobody else ever wanted it--except this +kindly neighbor of ours!" He glared at Hardy triumphantly. + +Pell was silent. Gilbert came to himself. + +"Oil!" he said. "Then this ranch, instead of being worth nothing, would be +worth hundreds of thousand of dollars--maybe millions!" He had taken the +bag from Pell's extended hand, and now turned in dismay and confusion to +the window, and put the bag on a chair. What a world it was, and how +terrible that every other man seemed to be a predatory animal, ready to +spring upon his neighbor and wrest anything he had away from him. What a +world, indeed! No wonder young men lost their faith and courage! + +"Millions!" The word caught Uncle Henry's fancy and imagination. He rolled +it over on his tongue again and again. "Millions!" He babbled it, he played +with it. "Millions!" + +"Yes!" Gilbert said. "Think of that!" He turned and faced the others once +more. + +"An' we're goin' to get skinned out of millions! Oh, my Gawd!" The poor old +invalid wailed it out, and rocked himself in his chair. How he wished he +could rise, step out on the floor and knock Pell and Hardy down! Why didn't +his strong and husky young nephew do it? What was the matter with the +present generation, anyhow? Wasn't there any red blood in it? If he had +only been younger, and strong, able to fight for what he knew to be his +rights! But here he was, tied down in a wheel chair, trapped, helpless, +impotent. + +Pell was getting nervous, "This is nonsense," he said. "There's no oil +here." + +During all this long harangue, Lucia had quietly come down the stairs, and +now stood directly behind her husband. + +"And this is why you were so anxious to come here," she said, very low; yet +everyone heard her statement. "To dig around, and then, if you found oil, +to try to buy this place! Oh, I thought better of you than that, Morgan! +What a trick--what a dishonorable trick!" She shuddered away from him. She +almost hated him in this revealing moment. + +"And why not?" was all her husband said. "Hadn't I a right to look for oil +here? Suppose it was on the place?" + +"You wouldn't have told him if you had found it! You know you wouldn't," +his wife shot back at him. + +Pell glared at her, fury in the look. "What do you think I am? Crazy?" he +argued. + +"But that isn't honest!" Lucia fearlessly said. "It's as crooked as it can +be! And you know it." + +"But it's legal!" Pell fired back. "And what do I care--what does anybody +care--so long as it's legal! Ha! the courts would be with me! Moreover, +it's the way you get the clothes you wear and the food you eat, and all +those jewels that you hang on yourself when you undress and go to the +opera!" + +As he spoke, angrily, he went over to the chair where Gilbert had left the +satchel, seized it and threw it on the floor, as though its contents were a +symbol of the money she tossed away. + +There was no use replying to a man like Pell. Lucia knew that. He was +indignant that she had seen through his treachery. Here he was, a guest of +Gilbert Jones, eating at his table day after day, pretending to be his +friend, and all the while he had been planning this! And she had seemed to +be a part of it all. What must Gilbert think of her? What must everybody +think of her? + +It was Hardy who broke the tension. + +"Say," he wanted to know, "who's this woman, and what's she busting into +this for? We've had enough of petticoats around here for one day, it seems +to me." + +Uncle Henry was swift to inform him. "I'll tell you who she is--she's his +wife!" And he pointed to Pell. "But she loves _him_!" And he pointed to +Gilbert. + +It was as though a bomb had exploded. Terror came into Gilbert's eyes, and +fury into Morgan Pell's. + +"What's that?" the latter cried, aghast. As a madman might, he stared at +Gilbert for an instant; then his gaze shot in the direction of his wife, +standing so calm at the other side of the table. + +Young Jones almost made up his mind, in that blinding moment, to choke +Uncle Henry once for all, and have it done with. This was the last stroke, +the final straw. He could stand it no longer. He stalked over to his uncle, +and really intended to lay violent hands on him; but of course he could +not. That defenseless old man, that pathetic figure seemed to wilt before +his piercing eyes, seemed to shrivel and literally fall to pieces. In hot +disgust, Gilbert could only cry out: + +"How dare you! How dare you, I say! This is the crowning interference!" He +had put his hands behind his back and braced his shoulders, fearing that he +would not be responsibile for what he did. + +Uncle Henry, seeing that he was safe, came back to the fray. + +"Well, you _couldn't_ marry her," indicating Lucia, "an' you _wouldn't_ +marry _her_," pointing to Angela. "I guess I got some right to protect +myself, ain't I?" + +"Protect yourself!" repeated Gilbert, cynicism in his tone. He turned his +back on them all and moved to the window. His very shoulders revealed the +mental struggle he was going through. + +Morgan Pell's eyes, all this time, had never left his wife. He studied her +countenance as a pathologist might that of a person thought to be insane, +and Lucia almost gave way under his relentless analysis. "Red," seeing the +turn affairs had taken, quietly drew his gun, and Angela, frightened, put +her hands over her shell-like ears. If there was one thing she dreaded, it +was a shot. She was trembling like a leaf. She closed her eyes. She knew +that "Red," in his devotion to Gilbert, would not hesitate to kill Pell. + +With an inscrutable expression, Morgan Pell murmured, "H'm!" Then he turned +swiftly on Uncle Henry and asked, "You have proof, I suppose?" + +"Proof?" cried Uncle Henry. + +"Yes." + +"My Gawd," the invalid fairly shrieked, "all you gotter do is look at 'em! +I been watchin' 'em ever since you came." + +At this, Gilbert honestly believed that Uncle Henry had lost his reason. +Surely this was the insane delusion of a senile old man; and he said as +much to Pell. + +"Senile yourself!" cried Uncle Henry, mad through and through, feeling he +was immune from any attack. "Gol darn you!" + +So there was no shutting Uncle Henry up! Gilbert, in despair, turned to +Pell. "You don't believe it! You can't believe it!" he said. "This is +madness--" + +Pell said not a word; he seemed to be in deep thought. Suddenly his whole +manner changed, his voice as well, and he faced Gilbert frankly. + +"Certainly I don't believe it. My confidence in my wife is implicit." + +The metamorphosis was unbelievable. At least Uncle Henry thought so. + +"Well, I always heard that husbands was boobs!" he announced, +sarcastically. + +Angela at that instant opened her eyes and took her fingers from her ears. +Enough time had elapsed, she thought, for the worst to have happened. + +"Has it gone off yet?" she naively asked. + +"Has what gone off?" from Pell. + +"Why, the gun, of course!" Angela replied. + +"Gun?" + +She looked at "Red." "He had one, and I thought maybe he'd shoot you, or +maybe you'd shoot Gilbert, or maybe--Aren't you going to shoot him?" + +"What for?" + +"I thought that was what husbands always did!" + +Pell smiled. "Not sensible husbands, my dear." Then he faced Gilbert again. +"To go back to where we were: I will admit that there is a possibility of +oil in this property. But it is only a possibility." The strain was broken. +Everyone looked relieved. Lucia moved for the first time--she had been like +a frightened bird under the spell of a serpent. "I'm a business man," Pell +went on, suavely. "I'm willing to gamble twenty thousand dollars." + +"You will?" cried Uncle Henry. There was no quieting him. His life was one +long question-mark. + +"It's a fair proposition, and, as far as I can see, your only way out, +Jones." He had paid no attention to the old man's interruption. But the +latter broke in once more: + +"Why don't you lend _us_ the ten thousand and let _us_ gamble?" + +Pell was in no wise disconcerted by the query. He replied with another +question--always the shrewd man's way out of a difficulty, "Would you, in +my place?" + +"Sure I would!" came from the wheel chair. + +"Oh, you would--" + +"Yes, _sir_!" + +Pell had nothing further to say to him, but addressed himself to Gilbert +again. + +"However, if you don't think that offer fair, I'll give you twenty thousand +cash and assume the mortgages." + +"Twenty thousand?" Uncle Henry's eyes opened wide. + +"Well, what do you say?" Pell wanted to know, still addressing Gilbert. He +had no taste for Smith's constant interruptions. + +But Hardy broke in, confounded by this talk. He saw himself slipping out of +the transactions. "If you think you're going to ..." + +Pell paid no heed to what he said. "If I were in your place," he remarked +to young Jones, "it wouldn't take me long to decide. You see, from me you +get twenty thousand dollars clean. Otherwise, the place goes to him." He +nodded toward Hardy. "And you get nothing. It's mighty plain--as plain as +the nose on your face. I'm a plain man, and I don't quibble. I've made you +a direct offer. Nothing could be fairer. Well?" + +Gilbert didn't pause or hesitate a second. "All right. Give him the ten +thousand," indicating Hardy. + +Morgan Pell was visibly relieved. Things seemed to be going his way, just +as he had planned. Sturgis had been right, after all. He rubbed his hands +in satisfaction, "And now, to facilitate matters," he said, "if you will +give us a ten-day option on the place, at a purchase price of thirty +thousand ..." He went to the table, and arranged pen and paper, and +motioned Gilbert to be seated and write. + +The latter was in the chair at once. "Thank you, no. Twenty," he said, and +began to write. + +"Twenty?" Pell repeated, and stroked his chin. He must be wary; he must go +cautiously with this young fellow. He would see through him if he didn't. +"Certainly. Your first offer is the one I take," Gilbert said in a firm +voice. + +Uncle Henry couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You mean you ain't going +to take the other ten?" he cried, in surprise. Gilbert never looked up from +his writing. The pen was moving swiftly over the paper. Uncle Henry was on +the verge of a nervous breakdown then and there. He looked at Pell, +eagerly. "Give it to me! _I'll_ take it!" + +But Pell only said: "Mr. Jones is the owner of this property," and watched +the young man write. + +Angela, like a timid bird, watched the proceedings breathlessly, and moved +over close to her big father and put her little hand in his arm, "Isn't +there anything we can do, dad?" she inquired. + +Hardy pressed her fingers, and said, in a whisper: "But I'm not sure +there's oil here. I'm not sure at all." + +"But _he_ seems to be," said the shrewd Angela, looking at Morgan Pell with +his wily countenance. + +"Oh, these New York fellers!" Hardy deprecated. "You never can tell!" + +Gilbert rose. + +"Finished?" asked Pell. + +"Quite." And young Jones handed him the option on the property. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +WHEREIN LUCIA SEES TREACHERY BREWING, PELL PROVES HIMSELF A BRUTE, AND AN +UNEXPECTED GUEST APPEARS + + +When Lucia saw Gilbert pass the paper to her husband, she thought she could +not stand it. It was not her concern; and yet it was. Vitally, whatever +affected young Jones affected her. She could not see him tricked, duped. +And she knew that he was being played with, made a fool of. Some ulterior +motive lay beneath this seeming generosity. She tried to control herself; +but suddenly she found herself speaking. + +"No! Don't! I can't--" + +But she could get no farther. Something seemed to choke her, and make it +impossible for her to continue. + +Her husband looked at her in amazement. She turned away, and was silent. + +"Thank you," said Pell to Gilbert. Then, to his wife he said: "And now that +this is settled, we shall proceed to other business of even more +importance. This gentle soul," looking at Uncle Henry, "has said that our +friend loves you and that you love him. Is it true?" He was perfectly calm. + +Once more he was the crafty, cruel, scheming man; and back into his eyes +came that glitter she so feared. + +Gilbert, astonished, got to the other side of the table. + +"I thought we were through with all that!" he said. "What's the use of +harping on it?" + +"You were wrong," answered Pell, coldly. "I am a business man, as I told +you before. I do one thing at a time." His lids half closed, his hands +clenched. He swerved abruptly on his wife. "Well?" he said. "Well?" + +"You mean to say," said Gilbert, "that you took seriously what my doddering +old uncle said? I told you I thought he was crazy, and you seemed to agree +with me. What are you talking about now?" + +Morgan Pell's steel-gray eyes fastened themselves on Jones, "I am talking +to my wife. I am not ready for you--yet. One thing at a time, you know." +He looked again at Lucia. "Well? I am waiting. Answer me: Do you love him?" + +Alarm at Pell's manner was rife in the room. What a brute he was, and how +terrible was his verbal attack! + +Lucia could not trust herself to speak. She knew she would have to reply to +her husband's question, and though she knew her answer would be but a +monosyllable, she could not get it out. + +"Well?" Pell repeated, and the word was like a hammer-blow. + +"No!" Lucia managed to say. + +The husband now turned on Gilbert. "Do _you_ love _her_?" he asked with +great deliberation, as though he had rehearsed it in his mind for days. + +"Certainly not," was the immediate reply. + +The silence that followed could have been cut with a knife. Everyone stood +as though turned to stone. Surely this denial would be enough. Pell did not +move. A menacing expression came over his face. As though there were no one +else in the world, he glanced first at his wife and then at Jones, and +affirmed with quiet deliberation: + +"You're a couple of rotten liars!" + +Had he been struck in the face, Gilbert could not have been angrier. He saw +it all now--he was in this man's power, utterly. It had been planned +craftily, smoothly. And there was no escape for Lucia. God! what he had +gotten her in for! He cursed the tongue of Uncle Henry, and mentally he +heaped maledictions on his own head for his gross stupidity. So this was +how the land lay--this was the path that led to his destruction--ah! not +only his, but hers! Angry as he was, he knew it would be futile to do +anything but try, even now, to placate this wretched specimen of a man. He +had to think quickly. There was not an instant to lose. + +"But you said you didn't believe ..." he began; but Pell came mercilessly +back at him! + +"I didn't--then. The time was inopportune." + +Uncle Henry clutched the arms of his chair. "Ooooooh! The dirty bum!" he +yelled. + +Pell went on, inexorably. "But now that she herself has admitted it, and--" + +"Admitted it!" Gilbert cried, his rage now at the boiling point. + +"Yes! By everything she has said and done to-day. My dear fellow," with a +subtle change of tone, "God knows I am no prude." He smiled a bland smile. +"But there are limits to what any husband can endure." His lips became thin +and terrible; his eyes were gleaming slits. + +Gilbert was aghast. He saw no solution of this painful situation; no safety +for Lucia--his thoughts were all of Lucia. + +"You don't think that!" he said, "You couldn't possibly think that! Oh, my +God!" + +Morgan Pell sneered at him. "I know what I would have done, in your place +and with your opportunities." + +Gilbert found it hard to realize that any husband could say a thing like +this in the presence of his wife. It revealed, if anything further were +needed to reveal, the cur in the man. + +"We're not all as rotten as you are, Pell! Don't forget that!" he cried. +"You're a dog--a low-down dog." It was all he could do not to spring upon +this craven and pin him to the floor. + +"And we're not all as discreet as you!" Pell flung back. "And now, if you +don't mind," he added insinuatingly, "I'd like to talk to my wife--alone." + +Gilbert was consumed with fear for Lucia. "What?" he cried. + +"Have you any objections?" Pell said, curling his lip. The irony in his +tone was unmistakable. + +Gilbert moved toward the door. "Why--no." + +"Thank you," Pell said; and he threw wide the door leading from the alcove +so that his host might pass through. He waited for him to do so. Gilbert +hesitated for the fraction of a second. He looked at Pell, and then at +Lucia, still lovely for all her suffering. There was nothing to +say--nothing he could say. He disappeared into the other room, and shut the +door behind him. Pell immediately turned to the others. "Well?" he said. + +"You mean you want us to get out too?" Uncle Henry asked, indignation in +his high voice. + +"That's exactly what I do mean," Morgan Pell stated, firmly. "And the +sooner the better." + +The situation, he felt, was entirely in his hands. + +"Oh, very well!" Uncle Henry replied. He pushed his chair toward the door, +murmuring as he went, "Thank God I ain't his wife! That's all I got to +say!" + +Hardy was still standing in the shadows. He looked at "Red." "What's he +going to do?" meaning Pell. + +"I don't know. I--" the foreman answered. Angela, frightened, followed the +husky "Red" through the door; and the husband and wife were left entirely +alone. + +There was a pregnant silence. Terror came into Lucia's heart. Her brain +reeled. She had seen Morgan in a temper before--many times; but never with +quite this sinister light in his eyes, this tense, quiet force behind his +slightest gesture. What was he going to say to her? She felt like an animal +at bay. She determined that she would gain one advantage by making him be +the first to speak. But as he approached her slowly, fear seized her. He +seemed no longer a man, just a hulking giant--a brutal, frenzied creature; +and something quite apart from herself caused her to cry out: + +"What are you going to do?" Oddly there flashed into her mind that very +line, and she wondered where she had heard it. Yes, even in her terror, her +abject fear, she remembered. It was once when, as a child, she had seen a +dramatization of "Oliver Twist." Bill Sykes came toward Nancy, just as +Morgan was coming toward her now, with leering countenance, and the poor +wretch had screamed out: "What are you going to do?" That scene was forever +photographed on her brain, and now, from some strange recess, Nancy's +pitiful words came back to her. + +He did not answer. Another step, and he would be upon her. + +"What is it, Morgan? Oh, what is it?" She shrunk back, slowly. If he +touched her ... + +But he did not lift his hand, as she fully expected him to do. Instead, he +uttered only two words. They were a command. + +"Kiss me!" + +Almost she would rather have felt his blows raining on her head. + +"What?" she cried, a new amazement within her. + +He glared down at her. His breath was on her cheek. + +"You heard," he stated. And he stood stock still. + +Frightened beyond believing or seeing, she offered her cheek to him. "But +I--" she managed to get out. + +Pell saw that she was shrinking away again; she could not bring herself to +do as he willed. + +"So!" her husband cried, significantly. Now she realized, in a blinding +flash, the cruel subtlety behind his test of her. Her head went back; she +closed her eyes. And then--how she did it she never knew--she raised her +mouth. + +"I don't want to kiss you." It was the refinement of cruelty. "I want _you_ +to kiss _me_. Do it!" His hands were behind his back. He stood straight and +stiff as an Indian chief. + +He watched her least movement. He put his lips very close to her mouth. +She struggled in that one mad second, and tried to kiss him. She could +not--she could not bring herself to the act. + +He laughed sardonically. The devil himself could not have laughed liked +that. + +"Some women could have done it," he told her, sternly. "But not you, my +dear...." Fury and sarcasm were in his tone. "So! That's it, is it? And I +stand blindly by while you and he ..." + +Utter madness seemed to rush upon him. + +Lucia had backed to the table. "No! I can't. You--you brute!" + +Pell watched her, steadily. "Do you think I am a fool? Or that you are more +than human?" he cried out. + +"I swear to God!" she contradicted him. + +"Ha! You've had your turn, my lady! Now, it's mine! And after all I've done +for you, you ungrateful hussy!" + +The clock struck three. It seemed an eternity until the little bell ceased. +Her life with him swam before her in that brief period. All she could utter +was: + +"What are you going to do?" And she clutched her hands in helplessness, +for she read some sinister purpose in his voice. + +"I'm going to do what I once saw another sensible husband do under these +circumstances." + +Lucia's face was ashen now. "What is that?" + +A second's pause. She hung on his answer. + +"Horses don't know who they really belong to. So they are branded. There is +no reason why women equally ignorant shouldn't be similarly treated." Every +word was measured, uttered with fearful distinctness. His hand shot behind +him on the table, where "Red" had left his spurs. Lucia saw the swift +movement. + +"No!" she screamed, "Oh, no, Morgan, not that!" Her senses reeled. The +earth crashed beneath her. + +But he paid no heed. He seized her fiercely by one arm, reaching far out to +do so, and, gorilla-like, he had her, this weak flower, in his clutches. He +pinioned her deftly, and thrust her lovely body back, until her face looked +upward from the table. With his right hand, he started to tear her +beautiful face to shreds with the cruel spurs, forever to ruin her glorious +features, when, as if through a miracle, the door was thrown wide open, and +a strange figure stood on the sill--a Mexican in a great sombrero, a +flaming red kerchief at his throat, and eyes that gleamed and glistened, +teeth that were like the whitest ivory. + +He stood, with arms crossed, surveying the scene. If lightning had struck +the adobe, Pell could not have been more dazed. + +He released his wife. "What the devil!" he cried. "Who are you?" + +"Hold up your hands!" yelled the bandit, stepping over the threshold. And +Pell's hands went up, like magic, the spurs jangling to the floor. + +There was a noise without, and Uncle Henry was pushed in by a crude, +foul-looking Mexican, then came "Red," Angela, and Hardy, followed by +another Mexican bandit, and several Mexicans. + +"Who is he? What does this mean?" Pell cried out. + +"This is Pancho Lopez!" "Red" Giddings said. Everyone's hands were lifted, +and pistols were held by the Mexicans, ready to go off at the slightest +sign of rebellion. + +"Pancho Lopez?" Pell repeated, frightened almost to the breaking point. + +The bandit, a strange smile upon his lips, and hidden laughter in his eyes, +knew his power. The situation was one in which he reveled. He gazed around +him, triumphantly. His legs were spread apart, a cigarette drooped +nonchalantly from his lips. + +"Senors, senoras!" he announced, in fascinating broken English, "you are +all my preesoner!" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +WHEREIN THE BANDIT EXPOUNDS A NEW PHILOSOPHY, AND MAKES MARIONETTES OF THE +AMERICANS + + +"Put all ze men outside," Lopez ordered. Venustiano and Pedro, his chief +lieutenants, obeyed at once, forcing them to march ahead of them, and +standing guard over them near a great cactus bush a few feet from the +adobe. "Leave ze women with me," the bandit continued. "But first, +Alvarada, you find ze cook. I am 'ongry." + +"_Si_," answered Alvarada; and after he had made certain that Pedro and +Venustiano could handle the three men, one of whom, after all, was but an +invalid in a wheel chair, he made his way to the kitchen. He knew there +were two other companions who would help in any emergency. They slunk in +the background, cigarettes between their lips, guns always ready for +action. The house was completely surrounded. + +Lucia and Angela, left alone with Lopez, revealed the deep concern they +felt. They watched the bandit as he pawed through some papers on the table. +With maddening indifference he then lighted another cigarette, and went +over to the door, looking out at the male prisoners. Finally he turned upon +them, looked them over, and remarked: + +"What a pity. Only two women!" + +They shuddered away from his gaze. + +There was a noise from the direction of the kitchen, and Alvarada, with the +miserable little Mexican cook ahead of him, rushed in. + +He was addressing him in Spanish: "_Usted si cusinero. Borachi!_" + +Lopez gave one glance at the poor specimen who had charge of the kitchen. + +"The cook," he laughed. "He is dronk!" He now addressed him directly: "You +are dronk," he affirmed, and stamped his foot. + +Frightened, the boy cried: "No! No!" Certainly he was under the influence +of the deadly tequila; but when he saw the bandit's face, and realized that +he was in his power, he became suddenly and miraculously sober. He was +firmly convinced that his last moment on this earth had come. He knew that +a man like Lopez never hesitated to shoot to kill. He realized in the +twinkling of an eye how late it was, how the dinner had been delayed +through his drunkenness; and this visitor would brook no further waiting. +He fully expected to be shot against the door. Therefore, to save time, he +slunk to the entrance of the kitchen, placed himself against the jamb, +crossed himself, muttered a rapid, incoherent prayer in Spanish, put his +hands behind his back, closed his eyes and waited for the fatal shot that +would send him straight to hell. + +But nothing happened. Lopez looked at the cook, and said casually to Pedro: + +"Not till after dinner," and puffed his cigarette. + +"_Despues de la comida_," said Pedro. + +"I will make for you!" cried the wretched cook, opening his eyes, and so +relieved to be still alive that he could scarcely articulate. + +"_Pronto_," ordered Lopez. + +"_Si, Madre di Dios!_" cried the cook; and fled to his kitchen, tumbling +over himself in his eagerness to get a meal for the bandit. + +There was a pause. What would Lopez do next? Kill them all? In Spanish he +began, turning to Lucia: + +"_Santa Maria_--You come here." + +Angela stepped forward. + +"You mean me?" she asked, sweetly. + +"No!" came the gruff voice of Lopez. "You!" pointing to the frightened +Lucia. + +"Why do you want me?" she asked, moving slightly toward him. + +"I would look at you," the bandit replied. He was appraising her already. +"Turn around." She obeyed, like an automaton, "'Ow old are you?" + +She would not lie. "Twenty-four," she answered. + +"Ees pretty old," laughed Lopez. "Let me see your teeth." + +"My teeth!" echoed Lucia. Did he take her for a horse? + +Lopez merely nodded; and, with all the self-control she could bring to her +aid, she opened her mouth and showed her wonderful teeth. + +"_Si_," remarked Lopez, evidently pleased at the sight. "An' now, 'ow much +weigh?" + +"I don't know exactly," Lucia said. + +"What's your name?" the bandit went on. + +"Lucia." "Lucia!" he rolled the name over on his tongue, and smiled. +"Lucia!" he repeated. "Ees nice name." Then, "Come 'ere. Come 'ere!" He did +not wait for her to move this time. He put out his hand and drew her close +to him. "I would see more of you," he told her. And, to her amazement and +horror, he lifted her skirt delicately, almost tenderly. Her womanhood +revolted at his action. This barbarian! She slapped his hand. But Lopez +paid no more attention to the blow than if a child had struck him. "Not +bad," he went on, indifferently, referring to her well-turned ankle. "'Ow +you like to go wiz me to Mexico? Well?" when she did not answer. "You 'eard +what I said." + +That she should be insulted thus! "But--oh, I couldn't do that!" she cried +out, in terror. + +"Why not?" Lopez demanded. + +"I'm--married." + +"Well, we will not take ze 'usband! Just you an' me. We go to ze +bull-fight. I rob ze jewelry store for you. We get plenty dronk." She +shuddered. "Sure! I show you 'ell of a good time. Well, 'ow you say?" He +glared at her, almost winked, smiled, and let a ring of smoke curl upward. + +Lucia turned away, ashamed, mortified. "I never heard of such a thing!" she +cried. Lopez laughed. "Deedn't nobody ever offer you good time before?" + +"Not like this." Lucia thought if he didn't stop soon, she would shriek. + +"No? You 'ave been married all your life wiz one man?" + +"Yes," she told him. + +"My! what a rotten life you 'ave led!" the bandit commiserated her. "But +ees not too late. I shall steel save you. But you shall not sank me. Shall +not be so damn bad for me, too!" + +Definite terror seized Lucia now. She knew by his tone, by his every +gesture, that he was not fooling. She had heard, had read, of men like this +Lopez. They were thick along the border. He meant business. Morgan had not +exaggerated the danger of coming down here. + +"But you wouldn't do that," she cried out. + +"Why not?" Lopez said. + +"It's--it's wrong!" + +The bandit smiled his winning smile. "Whose beeziness what we do if we like +for do him?" + +"Please don't take me with you!" Lucia appealed. Why had Morgan Pell ever +brought her to this border line? She might have known better than to come. +It was no place for a young and attractive woman. + +"You don't wish to go?" Lopez questioned, hardly believing that any pretty +woman could resist his charms. + +"No," cried Lucia. + +"You mean you wish to stay married wiz one man?" + +"Ye-es," Lucia faltered. + +"Never no life? Never no fun? Ha! If you was old, fat--zen, perhaps. But +young, beautiful! For why was you born if you no wish to leeve?" + +"But I do wish to live!" Lucia cried in desperation; and her hands went out +in an attitude of supplication. + +Lopez appraised her once more. "But when I come along an' show you 'ow you +raise 'ell and say no. Ees great honor to be took by Pancho Lopez into +Mexico. Like 'ow you say, ze decoration for ze chest," and he indicated the +spot on his coat where a war medal might be placed. + +Just then, to Lucia's relief, the cook came in, bearing a tray laden with +chile con carne, bread and butter, and sugar, and placed it on the table. +His fright was still evident. His hands trembled, his legs shook. + +"Ah! Ze food!" Pancho cried. "Good! Put zem zere!" he ordered; and the cook +placed the tray closer to him. Then he turned to Lucia Pell. "You shall +wait on me," he told her, as though he were conferring the greatest honor +upon her. + +Angela came close to him, eager again to please him. He merely pushed her +to one side, and had eyes only for Lucia. "You!" he said, looking her +straight in the face. He sat down, and scanned the tray, while the cook +stood in terror, not daring to leave the room, but wishing to God this +moment were over. Had he forgotten anything? + +"I do not see ze coffee," Pancho said at last. + +"I get for you!" the cook screamed in a shrill voice, and rushed for the +kitchen. + +"_Pronto_," Lopez said. Then, to Lucia, "Ze bread." She leaned over to get +a piece for him. He watched her carefully. "Your hand is shake. For why? +You 'fraid from me, perhaps?" + +She admitted that she was afraid--a little. + +"And why?" he inquired. + +"Because I've heard that you kill people," she bravely told him. + +"Oh, but that isn't so!" Angela broke in, fearful that the mere mention of +killing would bring about a murder then and there. "I'm sure it isn't!" +Nothing must be said to raise the thought in Pancho's mind. + +"Why are you so sure?" Lopez demanded. + +"It couldn't be! It couldn't be!" Angela declared. "Anyone so romantic as +you, so--" And she tried to look her pleasantest. He must be placated, this +wretched man. + +"You are wrong," Lopez informed her, and also the entire room, "I do kill." +Lucia, who had taken a seat near him, now drew back in alarm. He was quick +to see her action. + +"You need not be afraid," he heartened her. "I shall not 'urt you. That is, +not yet. The chile--" she dished some out for him, hurriedly. "So! You are +afraid of me because I kill people, eh?" He leaned back, and his lids +contracted until his eyes looked wicked and sinister. The spangles on his +sleeves trembled like leaves. + +"A little," Lucia managed to say. + +"You sink it wrong to kill?" Pancho wanted to know, gulping down a great +mouthful of chile, and smattering a huge slice of bread with butter. He ate +with his knife, like a glutton. He smacked his lips, and wiped them on the +sleeve of his coat, where the brass buttons gleamed picturesquely. + +"You talk of killing in such a matter-of-fact way," Lucia observed. + +"An' why not?" Lopez asked. + +The cook brought in the coffee-pot and put it on the table. + +"Does life mean as little to you as that?" Lucia asked another question. +This man was an enigma. He was bad through and through. They were as +helpless as cattle in his hands. + +"Life?" Lopez smiled. "To be 'ere--zat is life. Not to be 'ere--" he gulped +down some steaming coffee--"zat is death. Life is a leetle thing--unless it +is one's own." He put the big cup down and put in four spoonfuls of sugar, +stirred it diligently, and looked around him, the wonder of a child in his +face. + +"You do kill your prisoners, then?" Lucia brought out. + +"Sure!" laughed Pancho. + +Could she have heard aright? "You do?" she cried, and her cheeks took on an +ashen hue. + +"_Ciertamente!_" the bandit stated, as though they were talking of the +weather. "You capture ze preesoner. You 'ave no jail to put 'im in. You +pack him around wiz you. If you let 'im go, 'e come back to fight you +again. So you kill him. Eet is very simple." + +"But it seems so cold-blooded!" Lucia said. + +"Ah! to you, perhaps! It is ze difference between zose who live in safety +and zose who live in danger. In safety you 'ave ze bill to pay. You pay it +and you forget it. In danger you 'ave enemy to kill. You kill 'im an' you +forget 'im. _Save?_" And another heaping knifeful of the chile con carne +went into his mouth. + +"It's too horrible!" said Lucia; and she turned away. + +"Ees life too horrible?" Pancho wanted to know. + +"I never knew life was like that!" she said. + +"Because you 'ave never really lived," the bandit explained. "Because you +'ave been always protect by ozzers. I kill only men. And only evil men. And +when I kill evil man, it make me very 'appy. For I 'ave did a good deed." +His simple philosophy pleased him. + +"But who decides whether a man is good or evil'" + +"I do!" answered Lopez, quick as a flash, and wondering how she could have +asked so stupid a question. + +"Oh, do let me pour some more coffee for you!" Angela begged. + +"If you wish," Lopez said, indifferently. It mattered little to him now +who waited upon him. His inner man had been partially satisfied. He leaned +back in his chair, at peace with all the world. One spurred and booted foot +was on the table. + +"Oh, thank you!" Angela was all smiles. She was making headway with this +evil man. "Thank you so much," she followed up, and, standing sweetly at +his left, she poured the brown stuff into his cup. "Lovely weather, isn't +it?" she remarked. The cook took the pot from her, and went back to the +kitchen with it. + +"_Si_," Lopez said. "Sit down. Sit down." Angela thought of course he was +speaking to her, and being kind to her because of her girlish attentions. +So she promptly seated herself. "No, not you!" Pancho said roughly, putting +six spoons of sugar in this second cup. "You, I mean," indicating Lucia +once more. Angela pouted, and turned her back on this bad, bad man. Pancho +never even noticed her. The more opulent beauty of Lucia appealed to the +sensuous in him. "You," he repeated. "Tell me, senora, 'ave you never been +to a free country?" + +Lucia was surprised at his question. + +"A free country?" she said. + +"Yes; like Mexico, for instance." + +"Don't you call the United States a free country?" Lucia asked him. + +He almost roared his head off. "The United--Bah! Ees the most unfree +country what is. Every man, every woman, is slave--slave to law, slave to +custom, slave to everysing. You get up such time; eat such time," his hands +went out in Latin frenzy. "Every day you work such time, every night go to +bed such time. And, _Madre di Dios_, every week you take bath such time!" +This was, to him, the ultimate joke. "An' you call it a free country! Ees +only one free country. Ees one in which man does as she damn please. Like +Mexico!" he ended. + +The women were astounded. They had always thought of Mexico as a land of +rough-and-tumble, comic-opera revolutions; a place where one must forever +be on the lookout for trouble; where robbers were rife and the days were +nothing but a chain of abominations. A sunny, beautiful country, maybe; but +no place for a God-fearing American citizen to settle. Why, they would as +soon commit murder in Mexico as go to market. + +"Haven't you any laws in Mexico?" Lucia inquired. + +"We 'ave--ze best," Lopez was swift to reply. + +"But you just said--" Angela started to remind him, and took a little stool +and moved close to him, seating herself upon it. She did not want him to +forget her girlish sweetness. Lopez paid no heed to her. + +"They are ze best because each man makes them for 'imself. Not like New +York, where everybody tell you what you cannot do until zere is nozzing +left what you want to do." + +Angela piped up: "You've been to New York?" + +"When I was agent for Madero--yes. I live at ze big hotel. I 'ave planty +money. Ees no damn prohibition. I get dronk. I 'ave 'ell of a time. Sure! I +see 'im all! New York!" he smiled in recollection. + +"And you didn't like it?" Angela persisted, moving her little stool even +closer to him. + +"Like it? It makes me seeck! Even beautiful woman what I see 'ave 'osband +what is afraid for 'er. Each time I get dronk comes big policeman which 'it +me on ze 'ead." He smiled at the thought, "When I go to ze teatro, ees +someone which 'ide under--ze bed. Not even can I step on ze grass +because--New York! It crush ze 'eart!" He put both hands over his chest, +and looked up at the ceiling. + +"Yes!" exclaimed Angela, her stool very close to him now. + +"Ees a prison for ze soul!" Lopez affirmed. "A stupid, seely place, your +New York!" + +"Yes!" Angela agreed again. + +"For me New York can go to 'ell just as soon as she damn please!" the +bandit let out. + +"Oh, Mr. Robber!" Angela cried. + +"But Mexico! How different!" Lopez said, paying no more attention to Angela +than he would to a fly. + +"I'm sure it is!" the girl said. + +To Lucia, Lopez went on: "You shall see! Ze beautiful woman 'ave 'osband. +But shall I not 'ave beautiful woman?" + +"Oh, Mr. Bandit!" Angela put in once more. + +"When we get dronk, ees not policeman which will 'it us on ze 'ead, but us +which will 'it policeman on ze 'ead." Angela chuckled at this. "In ze +teatro shall not be someone which 'ide under ze bed, but in it! You shall +see! In Mexico ze heart leap! Ze soul she is free! You can do what you +want--zat is, onless someone shoot you. Leesten, senora." He leaned close +to Lucia, who had not ventured to move, "Did you ever know the joy of +fierce leeving? Did you?" + +But she did not reply. Instead, it was the impetuous Angela who answered +him: + +"Yes. I mean, no!" + +Lopez turned and scowled at her. "I was not spik to you," he said. + +"You weren't!" Angela looked her surprise. + +"_Ciertamente_ no!" the bandit said. + +Angela was hurt. "But you're not cross with me, are you?" she almost wept. + +"No! I am not cross wiz you! Eez zat you annoy me!" And as though she were +a doll, he pushed her from him, his big hand almost blotting out her pretty +little face. The stool and Angela fell to the floor. She was furious. The +devil in her was roused. Chagrined, she picked herself up. Her dainty plaid +frock was covered with dust. She brushed it off as best she could, and +cried: + +"How dare you push my face, you bad man!" + +"You should keep your face to home," Lopez answered, not turning a hair. He +hadn't meant to be cruel. The incident was nothing to him. When anyone was +in his way, he always got the obstacle out of it. He addressed the silent +Lucia, who was horrified at the treatment accorded the innocent Angela. +"Now that we have all finished eating," he said, delighting in the sarcasm, +since no one else had had a bite, "we will get down to business." He +shoved the tray aside, and the cook began instantly to clean things up. +"Pedro!" Lopez called, taking out a huge ivory toothpick which he +shamelessly used. + +Instantly Pedro was at the door. "_Si!_" he said. + +Lopez still spoke to Lucia: "We shall have big time togezzer--at least for +a leetle while." Then he motioned to Pedro; and his men brought in the male +prisoners. "You will not worry 'bout being married, once you come wiz me." + +Morgan Pell heard this last remark. + +"Look here," he said, "that's my wife you're talking to!" Rage was in his +face. He didn't care whether he was this man's prisoner or not. There +should be no insults hurled at Lucia--that old, primitive feeling for his +woman was roused. + +"So!" was all Lopez said, turning on Pell, and nodding his head. "Ees nice +wife--I like her. You do not mind, do you?" His hand touched Lucia's arm. +"Ees all right. I shall ask no question. You shall answer what I ask. And +as is my custom, anybody what does not tell ze truth shall be quite +suddenly--" he paused just the portion of a second--"shot." + +Uncle Henry had rolled in with the rest. At this last word his chair +reared up like a frightened steed. "Shot!" he cried. + +"_Si_," answered Lopez, calmly. + +"You mean it?" Uncle Henry asked, unbelief in his tone. + +The bandit glared at him. + +"Should I waste my time listening to sings which are not true?" + +"Thank Gawd, I ain't got nothin' to lie about!" was Uncle Henry's relieved +thought, expressed aloud. + +"H'm!" Lopez murmured. "You have given me a idea." He rubbed his hands +together, and then pushed his big sombrero a little back on his forehead. +"Better as my own. I shall use it." + +Uncle Henry wondered what he had suggested. "What's that?" he asked. + +Lopez took on the voice of an orator, or a man in court making an important +announcement. "If anyone 'ere shall tell me a lie, zen you shall all be--" +he paused dramatically once more--"shot." The final word rang out like a +shot itself. + +A movement of despair ran through the group. + +"Geemoneddy!" Uncle Henry broke the tension. + +Lopez turned to Lucia. "All bot you," he graciously informed her. "I 'ave +ozzer plans for you!" Her hair enraptured him--her youth and loveliness. + +The relief she felt at the first part of the sentence was quickly killed as +the sinister meaning of the latter part rushed into her brain. + +"Other plans!" she cried. + +"_Si._" He was unmoved by her apprehension. He walked to the very center of +the room, and looked about him, studying all their faces. + +It was as if he were a central pivot and their destinies revolved around +him. They had no idea what he would say next, and they hung on his words. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +WHEREIN UNCLE HENRY CHATTERS SOME MORE, THERE IS AN AUCTION, AND THINGS +LOOK BLACK INDEED + + +"And now for business," Lopez said. "And remember zat he what tells a lie +shall be right away shotted." In his excitement he lost the little English +he had. + +"I only hope _he_ tells one!" Uncle Henry couldn't help saying, pointing to +Hardy. + +"You wish him to be shot?" the bandit wanted to know. + +"Absolutely!" Uncle Henry was quick to answer. + +Angela was horrified. "You want him to kill my dad?" + +"I should enjoy it tremendous," Uncle Henry kept right on, and all but +smacked his thin old lips. + +Lopez was interested. "Why," he said slowly, wishing to get at the bottom +of things, "do you wish him to be shotted so tremendous?" + +Uncle Henry had no hesitation in answering: "Because he come to skin us out +of this place, gol darn him!" And then, as if to save his skin, he pushed +his chair far into the alcove, and, from this vantage point, watched to see +what Hardy would do and say. He was aware that he had gotten him in a +devilish stew. It served him right. He was a robber, a thief, and he didn't +care what became of him. If Lopez took him out and had him shot at once he +wouldn't have felt a qualm. + +The bandit weighed what Smith had said; then he spoke directly to Hardy. +"Zis is so? Zis is true?" + +"No." The monosyllable was more emphatic than any long explanation could +have been. A scowl on his brow, Hardy came close to Lopez, fearlessly. "I +came to foreclose a mortgage I hold on this place. That is all." + +But Uncle Henry was not going to see him get away with that. "Tell him why +you want this ranch so bad!" he yelled. "I dare you!" + +Pell now stepped forward. Their predicament was bad enough as it was, +without having this old imbecile make it worse. "Keep still, you fool! Do +you want to get us into more trouble?" + +"I certainly do," cried Uncle Henry, "an', gol darn it, I'm a-goin' to! Rob +me of ten thousand dollars, will you?" + +Lopez was listening with both ears; and a glint came into his eyes, "Zat is +true?" he inquired, interested anew. "He has rob you of ten sousand +dollars? Eh--heh--a good beeg sum!" + +"Ask him!" Uncle Henry said. "An' I only hope to thunder he tells a lie!" +His voice went up on a high key. + +The bandit looked keenly at Morgan Pell. "Did you?" There was no reply. +"You hear me--you will answer--at once!" + +"No." Morgan Pell shot out the word, and clenched his fists. The situation +was becoming hot. This old fellow would have them all dead in a few moments +if he didn't keep his mouth shut. + +A look of triumph came into Uncle Henry's eyes. "There's your big chance!" +he shouted to Lopez. "Shoot him quick!" + +But Pell said calmly: "I paid twenty thousand dollars for an option on the +place." + +"Yes, but you didn't give me the money!" Uncle Henry insisted. + +"I was going to," the other replied, not even casting a glance over his +shoulder. + +Old man Smith turned to Lopez. "Oh! You didn't shoot quick enough! I got it +now! Ask him why he wants the place! Maybe he'll tell another one!" And he +tittered with glee. + +Lopez put the question to Pell. + +"I--I--" the latter stammered; but could get no farther. + +Uncle Henry was gleeful now. "Get ready!" he yelled to Lopez. "He's going +to do it! Keep your hand on your gun!" + +"I thought," Pell brought out reluctantly, "I thought there might be--oil +on it." + +Lopez was dumbfounded. This was far more interesting than even he had +calculated. + +"Oil?" he said. + +Pell looked down. "But I think, under the circumstances, I shall not take +up my option." The paper was in his hand, and Lopez, seeing it, reached as +if to take it, when Pell handed the document to him. "In which case," Pell +informed the bandit, "the place would belong to him," shrugging a shoulder +toward Uncle Henry. + +"What's that?" the latter asked. + +"--making him a very rich man indeed," Pell added, significantly. + +Aghast at the turn affairs had taken, Uncle Henry could scarcely speak. +"Well, for the love o' Mike!" he managed to say. + +The bandit now turned full upon Uncle Henry, who was still concealed in the +shadow of the alcove. "Ah! so you would have all ze money!" + +"No, I wouldn't!" Uncle Henry protested. "I--" He quickly put his hand to +his mouth, stopping it like a child caught in a lie. "I mean--yes, I +wouldn't! Only we ain't found the oil yet. And personally, I don't believe +there's any here in the first place!" Realizing what he had said, he caught +himself again. "I mean, it may be here, but--Don't shoot yet! I'll get it +in a minute!" he begged. He was agitated to the breaking point. + +Hardy stepped forward, "Wait. I've a suggestion to offer," he said. + +"Yes?" Lopez uttered the word as though he had grave doubts. + +"You're after money," the tall, lank neighbor said. "I'll tell you how we +can make some--make a lot." + +"Well?" said Lopez, still far from convinced, and taking things easily. + +Hardy spoke more rapidly. "If the mortgage I hold on this property isn't +paid by eight o'clock to-night, it becomes mine. Keep that paper here until +eight o'clock, and I'll give you ten thousand dollars!" He watched the +effect of his words on the Mexican. + +Pell spoke before the bandit. "Why, damn you--" he began, to Hardy. + +But the latter paid no attention to his insult. He faced Lopez, as though +he were the only person in the room. "What do you say, is it a go?" + +"Wait a minute!" Pell cried. + +Lopez faced him. "Yes?" And puffed his cigarette. + +Pell addressed both the bandit and Jasper Hardy. "I'll make a better offer. +Keep _him_ here until eight o'clock, and I'll give you twenty thousand +dollars!" + +Lopez was considering, "H'm," he murmured, and stroked his chin. + +Uncle Henry saw a mess ahead. He steered right into the group, crying, +"Wait a minute. I got a better idea yet!" + +"You?" Lopez said, as he might have addressed a moron. + +"Yes, this place don't belong to neither of 'em yet!" + +"But who does it belong to?" the Mexican wanted to know. + +"My nevyer," the invalid said. + +"And which is 'e?" + +"He's down in the shed--fixin'," the old man informed him. + +Lopez turned to Pedro. "Venustiano shall find him. Before he make +trouble--you," turning to "Red," "shall show 'im where." Pedro had raised +his revolver; and one look at it was enough for "Red." These bandits meant +what they said; more, they meant every gesture they made. + +"It's all right," the foreman said. "He ain't got anything to lose anyhow. +I'll show you where he is," and, followed by the sinister Venustiano, he +went out. + +Uncle Henry moved his chair close to Lopez. "Now listen, robber--I mean, +bandit. You keep both these fellers here and lend us ten thousand dollars, +and we'll give you a million!" + +"A million!" said Lopez, his eyes big. + +"The first million we make out of the oil that's here!" "Uncle Henry +proposed. And, serious as things were getting to be, a smile went around +the group. + +"I should lend you ten sousand dollar?" the bandit asked. + +"Absolutely! Will you?" Uncle Henry had the temerity to say. + +"I do not lend," was the hard response. "I take." And he turned away. + +"But if you'll--" the old man pleaded. + +"Your proposition not interests me," Lopez said. Uncle Henry wheeled over +to the staircase. The bandit turned to Pell. "You offer me twenty sousand? +Zat is so?" he said. + +"Right," Pell replied. + +Lopez smiled sardonically, "Twenty sousand--for what is worth millions?" + +"But I don't know that there's oil here," Pell argued. + +Lopez laughed. "No?" Then, to Hardy, "You? You don't know, eizer, I +s'pose?" + +"I thought there might be--that's all." + +The bandit gave a hearty laugh. "Oh!" he exclaimed, almost consumed with +mirth. "I see I do business wiz business men--wise business men. _Bueno_! +Now we three business men togezzer, eh? Suppose I shall show you where ze +oil is. What zen?" He looked around the room, as if he thought everybody +should be interested; and indeed everyone was. Little gasps came from Hardy +and Pell, and Uncle Henry wiggled his chair up closer. + +"Show us where she is?" Hardy asked, breathless. + +"_Si_," Lopez answered. + +"There _is_ oil here?" Pell asked excitedly. + +Another cigarette went into the bandit's mouth. "Should I waste time +talking of what ain't?" he drily said. + +Hardy was still skeptical. "You know there's oil on this ranch?" + +"I 'ave know so for a long time." + +"On the level?" said Pell, eagerly. + +"'Way down below," laughed Lopez, delighted at his ability to pun in +English, and making a motion with one hand toward the nether regions. + +"You mean it?" Pell continued. + +A dark scowl came over the face of Lopez. "Should you doubt my word?" he +inquired. + +"Certainly not," Pell was quick to satisfy him. "Only why didn't you say so +before?" + +"Oil not interests me," the bandit explained. + +"But since to you gentlemen it seem so excitable--I 'ave it." + +"Yes?" from Hardy. + +"Ze little paper. You both want it. _Bueno!_ You shall both 'ave ze chance. +We will, 'ow you say, 'old ze little hauction." + +"Auction?" Pell repeated. + +"'E who bids ze 'ighest," Lopez elucidated, "shall 'ave ze little paper and +shall come wiz me while I show 'im where ze oil she is 'iding." He flicked +the ashes of his cigarette upon the floor, and sat on the corner of the +table, one foot dangling in the air. + +"Gad!" Pell let out. His hands went together, his jaw set. Things were +coming out beautifully. + +Lopez went on: "While 'e who does not bid ze 'ighest shall stay 'ere wiz +Pedro until eight o'clock to-night." + +Hardy was delighted. "You mean the highest bidder will not only get the +place but that you'll show him where the oil is besides?" + +"_Si._ Is it so agree?" + +"I'm for that," Pell said. + +"But I--" Hardy began. + +"I bid one hundred thousand dollars," Pell quickly cried. + +"I'll take it to the courts," Hardy contended. + +"Take what to the courts?" Pell wanted to know. + +"I was detained by force," Hardy said. + +"As long as I get there by eight, what difference does that make?" Pell +asked. + +But Lopez broke in: "One hundred sousand I am offer!" They mustn't +shillyshally this way. He wanted to keep things going. + +"I'll make it one hundred and one!" Hardy cried. + +Without a moment's hesitation, Pell jerked it up to a hundred and ten. + +"A hundred and eleven!" Hardy pushed ahead. + +"A hundred and twenty-five!" Pell yelled. "And what do you know about +that?" + +Hardy was by no means finished. "A hundred and thirty!" he made it. + +Uncle Henry couldn't stand it. While they raised each other's bids, he shot +in between them and managed to say above the din, "And me--gettin' skinned +not only out of my ten thousand, but a million dollars besides!" + +"A hundred and fifty!" Pell was saying. + +"A hundred and fifty-one!" the cautious Hardy added. + +The face of Lopez was a study; but they were so excited that they did not +look at him. Angela rushed to her father and clasped his arm when she +heard his last raise. "That's right, father. Don't let him get it!" + +"Don't worry," he reassured her, and patted her little hand, so warm on his +arm. He turned to Pell. "You city fellers needn't think you can come down +here and put it all over us." + +"Nevertheless," said Morgan Pell, "I'll just bid a hundred and seventy-five +thousand." + +"Then I'll make it a hundred and eighty!" his antagonist stated. + +Quick as a flash, "A hundred and ninety," Pell said. + +"Two hundred, by darn!" yelled Hardy, furious now. + +"Two hundred and--" Pell began; when Lopez, to their amazement, rapped on +the table with his gun, as though he were an auctioneer and this his gavel, +"Senors!" he shouted. "It is enough!" + +Everyone was dumbfounded, "Enough?" Hardy inquired, unbelieving. + +"Too much!" Lopez explained. + +"What's the idea?" Pell, shrewder than before, wanted to know. His brow +contracted. So there was a fly in the ointment, after all! + +"Ze idea, my friend, is zis," Lopez calmly stated. "I am not interest in +pieces of paper. I do not accep' checks. Also I am no damn fool! You sink I +sink you bring back two 'ondred sousand dollar? Two 'ondred sousand +soldier, mebbe! But two 'ondred sousand dollar! Pah!" and he made a gesture +of disgust, and crushed the paper in his hand and let it fall on the floor +under the table. + +"Then what's the idea of this auction in the first place?" Pell asked, mad +through and through that they had been tricked by this Mexican fool. + +Lopez leaned back on the table. "To find out if you gentlemen was rich +enough to make it worth my w'ile to take you wiz me and 'old you for +ransom." His eyes half closed. He was enjoying their discomfiture. There +was nothing he liked more than to spring a surprise like this. + +Pell and Hardy looked at each other, real terror in their faces now. + +"Ransom!" the former cried. + +"It is quite to be seen zat you are," the bandit grinned. "Zis, if I may +speak so, 'as been a lucky day for me!" + +Pell turned to both Hardy and Lopez, and addressed them: "Bluffing, were +you?" + +Lopez was quick to retort: "And was you bluffing when you bidded ze two +'ondred sousand dollars?" + +Hardy was agitated. "I'm afraid we were a bit hasty," he tried to explain +things away. + +This tickled Uncle Henry's bump of humor. He chuckled, and cried, "Ho, ho! +Serves you both gol darn good and right!" He seemed to go into a spasm of +laughter. + +Pell's chief concern now was to get out of the mess--to get away; to have +everything settled. Lopez could probably be dealt with, man to man. + +"Look here," he suggested, in a direct attack, "can't we settle things some +way?" + +"Yes," the bandit replied. "From my headquarters in Chihuahua I will give +you pen, ink, messenger-boy--everysing!" + +"But I--" Pell started to say. + +But Lopez broke in: "You will please listen more and speak less. I 'ave +decide. You I shall 'old for ransom. And," turning to Hardy, "you; and +you," pointing to Uncle Henry, "you who 'ave nossing, I shall leave +be'ind." + +Pell and Hardy felt that the game was over. + +Uncle Henry, on the contrary, was jubilant. "Gee!" he sang out, "and I get +the oil, after all!" + +No one heeded him. Things were too serious still. + +"You wouldn't do this?" Hardy asked of Lopez. + +"No?" the bandit asked. + +Hardy took Angela in his arms. "But what about her--my daughter? You +wouldn't take her, would you?" + +"Not for a million dollars!" Lopez smiled. + +Angela's pride was hurt, "H'm!" she sniffed. + +Lopez looked around him. He saw Lucia, and extended his hand to her. "And +as for you--" he began. + +Lucia was frightened. What was to be her fate? + +"Yes?" she breathed. + +"Life 'as been unkind to you. Too long 'ave you been marry wiz ze tired +business man. You shall come wiz me to ze land of purple mountains, where I +will love you myself personal." + +This animal! Lucia turned from him in horror. "But I don't want to love!" + +"It is not what you want," a new tone came into Lopez's voice. "It is what +_I_ want. I am ze law, 'ere!" + +"Please!" Lucia pleaded. + +Pell stepped forward. "Look here!" he cried. "There must be some way out of +this!" + +"Zere is," said Lopez politely. He pointed to the door. "Zat way." + +Angela clung to her father's neck. "Dad!" she cried, seeing that he was +about to be forced to go--perhaps forever. Tears rolled down her pretty +cheeks. + +Pell saw the seriousness of things now, and turned to Hardy in a strange +camaraderie. "I guess we're up against it," he said. + +"Looks that way," the other replied. In their misfortune they were +curiously united. + +Lopez turned to the whole room. "If you are ready?" he said, and snapped +his fingers as a slave-driver might have done. "Pedro!" he called, "kill ze +first one what make trouble," indicating the entire group of prisoners. +Pedro grinned hopefully. "Zey go. _Bueno!_ Zey go--all of zose ozzers. I +shall follow--wiz my woman." He turned to Lucia, who was standing like a +graven image near the table. "Come! We shall be very 'appy togezzer, you +and me!" + +They were about to pass through the door--all of them--when a noise +startled them; and Gilbert, followed by "Red" and Venustiano, appeared. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +WHEREIN AN OLD FRIENDSHIP COMES TO LIFE, LOPEZ LEARNS A THING OR TWO, AND +FINALLY MAKES A MATCH + + +"What's coming off?" Gilbert said, looking about him, and not a little +surprised to find a Mexican and his adherents in his adobe. + +Lopez turned and gave him a searching look. A light seemed to come into the +bandit's countenance. It was as if someone had put a lantern behind his +face. + +"You!" he cried, enraptured. "You ze nephew zat owns zis ranch?" + +Gilbert came farther into the room. Everyone now had turned back, stood +stock still, listening to these two. + +"Yes," said young Jones. "I am. What of it?" He didn't understand matters +at all. Absent from the house for a little time, he had been called back to +find this medley of people. + +Lopez searched his face again. "Tell me you 'ave been in Canon Diabalo +sometime? 'Ave you?" + +"Of course. What of it?" Gilbert was mystified. + +"You were there one night, three, mebbe four year ago?" Lopez persisted, +hoping there could be no mistake. + +"I don't remember," was the disappointing answer. + +"You remember poor peon was wounded--near bleed to death?" + +"What?" said Gilbert, light beginning to dawn upon him. + +"You do!" shouted Lopez, delighted. "Where was 'e wounded? Quick! You +tell!" + +"Shot through the shoulder," Gilbert answered promptly. + +"It is you! Don't you know me?" He faced him squarely, threw back his +shoulders, and waited, breathless, for his look of recognition. + +Gilbert studied his face. An instant of doubt, and then, "Why, you're +Pancho Lopez!" he said. + +The bandit was overjoyed. "I am! But don't you recognize who is ze Pancho +Lopez what I am? Look close! Ze clothes, no! Ze face!" + +"Good Lord!" was all Gilbert could utter. + +"Now you know me?" + +"You're the man I found wounded that night!" + +"And whose life you save!" Lopez added. + +"Well, what do you know about that!" young Jones shouted. He was as +surprised and happy as the bandit himself. This man, whom he never thought +to see again in his whole life was standing here, in his own adobe. + +"Now you know me!" Pancho went on. "Ah! my frand! 'Ow glad I am for to see +you some more! Pedro! Venustiano! Ees my friend! Sabbe! Orders like my own! +Serve 'im as you would me!" He went to Gilbert and frankly embraced him in +the Latin fashion. "Eet's 'ell of a good thing I reckernize you!" he +laughed, hugging his old friend close. He could never forget his kindness +that night so many years ago; and to think he had run across his deliverer +now! + +Everyone was relieved. Their troubles would now be ended. + +"And you ain't going to rob him, after all?" Uncle Henry piped up. + +"Rob 'im? Rob my frand?" Lopez repeated. + +"Ain't you?" Uncle Henry cried. + +The bandit looked at him, wonder in his eyes. "No! _Ciertamente_ no!" + +"Hooray!" the old man yelled, and would have risen in his chair could he +have done so. + +"Say, who the 'ell is that?" said Lopez, addressing himself to Gilbert. + +"He's my uncle," young Jones answered. + +"Uncle?" the bandit said, unbelieving. + +"Uncle Henry," old man Smith wanted it to be straight. + +"He shall go free," Lopez announced. + +Hardy thought this a good omen. They would all be set free, no doubt. He +faced Lopez bravely. "Ah, then it's all right," he said, a sickly smile on +his face. + +"All right?" said Lopez. + +"Yes," Hardy said. + +Lopez considered for a moment, hand on chin, his eyes again two narrow +slits. "Not so fast," he cautioned. "It ees all right for 'im," nodding at +Uncle Henry, "an' all right for 'im," indicating Gilbert; "but for you--" +He let one hand fly out, and a resounding slap on Hardy's eager face was +the result. Then he turned to Pedro. "Take them all out--_pronto_! 'Ees all +right!' Like 'ell ees all right!" + +Hardy flushed scarlet. His first impulse was to strike back; but how could +he? Those guns pointed at him from every direction. He was as powerless as +a baby. But his hour would come. This dastardly Mexican bandit should +suffer for that blow. + +Yet like one of a line of sheep he was obliged to follow Pedro out of the +door. It was a humiliating moment. Gilbert and Lopez were left alone. + +"Now we shall visit," the bandit said, and put his arm through Gilbert's. +"Ah! it ees so good to see you, my frand!" + +Gilbert was still mystified. "Yes," he said, "but I don't understand how +you, a peon, became the Pancho Lopez so soon." + +"Ah! it ees so easy!" laughed the bandit. + +"Easy!" Gilbert repeated. + +"_Si._ My frand"--his hand went to Gilbert's shoulder--"ees great +opportunity, ees revolution, for make speed. When I got well, I find I do +not enjoy my work, which are 'ard. Business? Business, she make me sick! I +say for myself, 'What to do?' Zen, suddenly I sink, 'I shall be soldado!' +Soldier which shall be giv ze 'orse, ze gun, ze woman, and nozzing to do +but shoot a little sometimes! Ees a wonderful life, my frand!" The smoke of +his cigarette curled to the ceiling. + +"I didn't find it so," young Jones said, and smiled in his dry way. + +"Pah! It's too many damn rules in your army. For us who make revolution, +no! We sleep so late we damn please. We fight some when we feel so. If we +find ze hacienda, we take all what we choose. When we need money, we go to +city and rob ze bank--we 'elp for ourselves food from ze store, shoes, +clothes, candy, ze cigarette, agauriante--" he made as if to drink from an +imaginary glass--"booze! An' if anybody 'ide anysing we cut 'is fingers off +so's 'e tell us. She is one fine life! You like for try? I make you +general! Come!" + +His face was radiant. The recollection of his army life filled him with +joy. + +But Gilbert shook his head. "Not for me, thank you," he smiled. + +Lopez merely shrugged his shoulders. "So! I was afraid!" + +"But how did you get ahead so fast?" young Jones wanted to know. "That's +what sticks me." + +The bandit laughed. "Zat is simple. You see, one day ze lieutenant she are +killed. Soon I become a lieutenant. Nex' day, ze captain. So I am captain, +Byme-bye, ze major--so I became major. Pretty damn soon ze colonel--so I am +colonel. I kill ze general for myself." As he spoke, he lifted the chair +at the table, and brought it down on the floor with a bang. + +"What!" cried Gilbert, at this description of an opera-bouffe army. + +"But we shall not talk of me," Lopez said. "We shall spik of you. 'Ow you +been since I seen you, what?" He tossed away his cigarette. + +Gilbert offered him another of his own. + +"No, gratias; zat's for peon. Zese from ze swell hotel National an +Torreon--zay are good. I steal zem myself," pulling out his case and +lighting another. He pushed his chair so that he could see young Jones +better. "Well, old frand, how you feel zis long time? Eh?" + +"I?" said Gilbert. He smiled a little, and looked significantly about the +room. + +Lopez caught the look. "So?" he said, sympathy in his tone. "It ees too +bad." He paused, letting the smoke curl over his head again. "Ah! I see her +now! You are ze nephew of Uncle Henry which owns zis rancho which are to be +foreclosed by moggidge." Gilbert nodded. "H'm! Zat shall make her all +different some more! Axplain for me, so I shall know." + +Gilbert replied: "There's not much to tell. I borrowed ten thousand from +my uncle; ten more from Hardy--the tall man, and our neighbor. He's a loan +shark--you know, in a mortgage. I go to the war. When I come home, cattle +all gone. No money. That's all." He made a gesture as though the world were +tumbling about him. + +"I see," said Lopez. "And wiz ze strange ideas of your country, it makes +you feel bad." + +"Well, it seems like a pretty good chunk of trouble to hand an average +citizen," young Jones said. + +"Trouble?" Lopez let out the word in wrath. "You are no trouble. You only +sink you are." + +"You don't call this trouble? If it isn't then I don't know what trouble +is!" + +"Not really trouble." He came over and put his hand on Gilbert's shoulder. +"Only trouble you are made for yourself because you go by law what are +foolish instead of sense what are wise." He gave him an affectionate pat. +Just then Uncle Henry wheeled himself in, neither inquiring nor caring if +he was wanted or not. + +"Well, I sure told 'em their right names for once, gol darn 'em!" he +chuckled. Lopez glared at him. "Pardon me! My mistake!" the invalid +apologized; and rolled into the alcove. "So, you sink you have much +trouble," Lopez continued, as though the invalid had not come in to +interrupt them. The clock struck five. He listened to it, and then said, "I +have time to spare--" He went to the window and looked out. + +"But if you've been raiding around here," Uncle Henry said from his +seclusion, "won't the rangers be after you?" + +"I have ze scouts who watch," the bandit said. He turned to Gilbert again. +"Suppose I stop here and prove to you who sink you have trouble, zat really +you have no trouble at all?" + +The young man looked at him incredulously. "You mean you can get me out of +this mess?" he asked. + +"Sure! In one half hour," the bandit was convinced. + +"Really?" + +"In one half hour your trouble go poof!" He made a ring of smoke and +watched it fade away. "And you shall be 'appy man. If I do zat, what zen?" + +"If you do that," said the other, "they'll have to tie me down to keep me +from kissing you!" + +"Good!" laughed Lopez. "She is did." + +There was a moment's pause. Then, "But how are you going to do this +miracle?" Gilbert was anxious to find out. + +"Zat is for you to leave to me. Well, what you say?" + +"I say yes, of course!" + +"_Bueno!_ We begin," said the bandit. He called through the door: "Pedro! +Bring zem all in again." + +Uncle Henry was curious, "What are you going to do?" + +"You shall see," was all Lopez answered. + +Angela was the first to file into the room. Uncle Henry glanced at her. +"What are you going to do about her?" he asked. + +Lopez looked around, "Her?" he said. + +"Her!" repeated Uncle Henry. + +"What 'as her to do wiz it?" the bandit inquired. + +"Why, she wants to marry him," Uncle Henry revealed, pointing to his +nephew. "That's what started the whole jamboree." + +Lopez looked astonished. "So?" he said. + +"Uh--huh!" + +The bandit glanced at Gilbert. "But 'e does not love 'er," he said, nodding +toward Angela. + +"Certainly not!" Gilbert was instantly saying, and glared at his uncle. +The latter, as usual, plunged straight ahead, as the others now gathered +about the room. "He," meaning "Red," "loves her. _He_," he nodded toward +his nephew, "loves _her_," pointing to Lucia Pell. "And she loves him," +nodding back to Gilbert. + +"Shut up! How many times must I tell you to--" + +"But she," went on Uncle Henry, just as if nothing had been said, and +pointing to Lucia, "is married to him," indicating Pell. "Which makes it a +hell of a mess all around!" He leaned back in his chair as if he had done a +good day's work. + +Gilbert could scarcely restrain himself. Again he wanted to lay violent +hands upon him--he wished he could. "Be quiet, won't you?" he breathed. + +"Not me!" Uncle Henry persisted. "I've gotter tell the truth." + +"Yes, but--" Gilbert began. + +"I don't wanter get shot," the old man declared. + +Lopez turned to Gilbert. "Is it true? You love her?" his eyes going to +Lucia. + +How could he tell the truth? "Of course I do not," he affirmed. Then he +went close to his uncle. "What did you do all this again for?" + +"He says he can fix it," Uncle Henry said. "Let him try. He's done swell so +far. Personally, I got a lot o' confidence in that feller. He's slick, he +is!" + +It was easy to be seen that the bandit was not satisfied with the answer +Gilbert had given him. He had been slyly watching both him and Lucia. Now, +he said, looking at them both: "So!" And old man Smith started to break in +once more; but Lopez went on: "Is it true?" + +"What makes you think so?" Gilbert wanted to know. + +"It is in her eyes--and yours," the Mexican stated. "I shall miss her. She +is very beautiful. However, what is one woman between frands?" He laughed a +bitter laugh. "You shall have her." + +Uncle Henry cried out: "But he can't have her. She's married." + +"Ees too bad," said Lopez, nonchalantly. "But nozzing to get excite about." + +"Nozzing to get excite about!" mimicked Uncle Henry. + +"No. But ees more to be did zan I 'ave sought. But I 'ave promise I shall +make you a 'appy man, my frand," again to Gilbert. "_Bueno!_ I keep zat +promise. You have gave me your word zat you will not interfere. Is it not +so?" + +"Yes, but I--" Gilbert hardly knew what to say. + +"It is for you to keep zat word as I keep mine," Lopez said. Then, to Uncle +Henry he went on, "I shall start wiz you. Now, Pedro!" + +"_Si_," answered the faithful minion of the bandit, stepping forward. + +"Remember," his master commanded. "Shoot ze first one which interrup'." + +"_Si_," said Pedro again, and grinned broadly and pleasantly. If there was +one thing he liked, it was the possibility of trouble with prisoners. He +knew how to bring them to terms. He had been doing it for years. + +Lopez got down to business. "Now, look here, Oncle Hennery: my frand 'ave +borrow money which 'e 'ave lost? Is zat true?" + +"Yes, sir," answered Uncle Henry promptly, and happy to have been addressed +so familiarly by the bandit. He felt that his triumph was now complete. + +"'E cannot be happy until 'e pay you back." + +"No, sir," sitting up straight in his chair. + +"I shall give you ten sousand dollar," was the bandit's surprising remark. + +Uncle Henry thought he could not have heard aright. "Ten thousand--! Yes, +but where are you going to get it?" he inquired, a bit dazed. + +"Do not ask me." He caught sight of "Red." "Ze next is you." He appraised +him rapidly, and then said to Gilbert, "'E is frand for you, no?" + +"He certainly is," answered young Jones promptly. "About the best I ever +had." He wasn't going to see anything happen to the faithful "Red." He'd +have protected him with his own life. + +Lopez liked this, "You love zat girl?" he said to the foreman, meaning, of +course, Angela. + +"What?" the latter cried out. + +"Well, I don't go around advertising the fact," "Red" told Lopez, a bit +mortified that his heart affairs should be thus openly discussed. + +"Ze girl zat spoiled my dinner," the bandit laughed. + +"Oh!" cried Angela, who thought she had done so well. + +"And she love you?" Lopez went on. + +"I don't either!" Angela protested, speaking before "Red" had a chance. + +"Now, Angela!" said "Red," his face the color of his flaming hair. + +His dream seemed so close. Was it possible that the only girl he ever had +adored was going to see it wrecked? + +Angela weakened a bit at his tone. "I like him," she told the bandit. "But +I don't--love him." + +"Ah! but you do!" Lopez insisted. + +"I do?" said Angela, wide-eyed. + +"I have so decide!" the bandit stated. + +"What?" cried Angela, not knowing what he could be driving at. + +"Also you make love to my frand, Senor Jones." + +"Oh!" cried the frightened girl now. + +"And you have annoyed him in other ways." + +"I have?" she wailed, terrified to the breaking point. + +"Red" intervened. "Listen, Angela--" he began. + +She stamped her little foot, and was peppery at once. "I won't!" + +"You don't love him," "Red" affirmed, for her. + +"Oh!" Angela burst out, all confusion. + +"No more than you loved any of the rest of 'em," "Red" went on. + +"Keep still!" the girl cried. "Keep still! I think you're dreadful!" + +"It's because they're better looking than me," her slave went right on. +"I'm the one for you to marry, Angy, and you know it!" He had faith in +himself at last--she couldn't stop him now. + +"No!" Angela contradicted. + +"Aw, come on!" poor "Red" begged. + +But she stamped her foot again. "No--no--_no_!" + +"Say you will!" "Red" pleaded, almost distracted. + +But Angela was adamant. "I won't--I won't listen to you another minute!" +She turned her back on him, blushing to the roots of her hair. + +Lopez had been highly amused at the girl's pique and "Red's" honest +interest in her. He came to his assistance. "We shall be patient. She is +mad. And mad lady sink not wiz ze 'ead, but only wiz ze tongue." He faced +the pouting Angela. "Senorita, leesten to me. 'Ow old are you?" + +"None of your business!" was the instant answer. + +"Twenty-eight? Twenty-nine?" Lopez pressed, smiling. + +"Certainly not! I'm only twenty!" She was swift with the denial. + +"Ah! I sought so," said Lopez, much pleased. + +"What?" Angela said, not understanding him. + +"In Mexico you would now be married five years--" the bandit explained. + +"What?" screamed Angela. + +"An' have six children." + +"Oh!" The very thought made Angela ill. + +"You are not pretty--none too pretty!" Lopez said. + +The girl was now both hurt and amazed. "What's that?" she cried, all her +feminine anger aroused. + +"You will soon grow fat," Lopez continued, looking her over carefully. + +Angela pulled out her handkerchief and brushed her eyes. "Oh!" + +"Like ze tub!" said Lopez, inexorably, spreading his arms to indicate an +immense diameter. + +"Oh!" was all poor Angela could get out. + +"Also, you 'ave ze bad temper." + +"Oh! Oh!" Sobs now came from her. + +"So, if you do not marry soon, it will be too late." + +"What's that?" she looked up, not able to believe she had understood. + +"Now, my frand 'ere, 'e wish to marry wiz you. Why, I do not know." Lopez +grinned broadly. He knew this would be the last stroke. He was right. + +"Oh!" gasped Angela. + +"Shall he come wiz me to Mexico," the bandit piled it on, "I will give 'im +planty wives, young, beautiful...." + +"Oh!" again came from the distracted Angela. + +"But he want you. And so ..." + +"You're going to force me to marry him. I see!" She turned to the listening +"Red." "And you'd let him force you on me, like this?" + +"It ain't my fault, Angela," the foreman assured her. "I didn't know he was +going to do this! You know that." + +Lopez issued his ultimatum. + +"I am not going to force you to marry 'im. You are going to choose to marry +'im." + +The girl was on the brink of despair. + +"Never! Never! Never!" she screamed, and stamped her foot vigorously. + +"Ah! my young lady. We shall see." He turned abruptly, and called, "Pedro!" + +"_Si_," the faithful one answered, and came to his master. + +Lopez then addressed Angela: "I shall not force you to marry 'im," +indicating "Red" with a wave of the hand. "I shall insist only zat if you +do not marry wiz 'im, you shall marry wiz Pedro." + +Directly behind the girl stood the fearful Pedro. His face was the dirtiest +that had ever crossed the border into Arizona. His teeth were sparse, his +hair a tangled mass of grit and dirt; his hands like violent mud-pies. The +suit he wore was stained and greasy--he had slept in it for many nights. +Altogether, he was about the most hopeless-looking individual a girl could +be asked to look upon. At his master's words, he grinned a fiendishly happy +grin, spread out his arms as if to embrace the charming Angela, and, if +possible, press a kiss upon her rosy cheek. But Angela, with one look at +him, collapsed into "Red's" waiting arms. He seemed like heaven to her now. + +"Ah!" yelled Lopez. + +"'Red'! save me, save me!" Angela cried in melodramatic fashion. + +Pedro, seeing how far from popular he was with the young lady, walked +disconsolately to the door. + +"So! You do love 'im, after all!" the bandit said to Angela. + +"I never thought I could love anybody so much!" the girl replied. "Oh, +'Red'!" And she hugged him again. + +"You mean it?" asked the delighted "Red." "You're not saying it +because..." + +But Lopez broke in: "She is saying it because it is ze truth. In pleasure, +a woman go to ze man she sink she love. In fear, she go to ze man she +really love.... Well, you really want her? She is yours. And I 'ope you +will be 'appy. At least, I 'ave done my part." He smiled his most +enchanting smile. + +"You have--you certainly have, and I am mighty obliged to you," said the +grateful "Red." + +"You are welcome. I like you. But remember zis: Eet is your wish--not +mine.... Don't blame me." + +"Red" could stand this now: he had his Angela. And tucked in his big arm, +he took her outdoors. + +As soon as they had gone, Hardy turned to Lopez. "Look here!" he shouted, +"I guess I've got something to say about this. That's my daughter, whose +affairs you've been so kindly fixing up, and--" + +Lopez gave him one look that closed his mouth suddenly. "Don't shoot, +Pedro," he said. "Well?" + +Hardy cast one eye at Pedro's lifted gun, and got out only one word, +"Nothing." A meeker man never lived. + +"From what my frand tell me, I can see now 'ow you make your money," the +bandit told Hardy. "You are a robber." + +This was too much for Hardy--for any man with a spark of manhood left in +him. + +"I am not!" he denied. "I'm a business man." + +"You are a loan fish," the bandit pressed. + +"A what?" + +"A loan fish! You loan money. And when ze people cannot pay, you convict +zem and take zeir ranchos." + +The lean, sharklike Hardy looked a little depressed at this accusation. + +"Well, if they can't pay, it isn't my fault," was all he could say. + +"It isn't zeir fault, too, is it?" Lopez was curious to know. + +"What's that?" Hardy said. + +"So you take ze rancho from my friend, Senor Jones. A nice sort of neighbor +you are, you beeg fish!" + +"I'm not to blame because he's a rotten business man, am I?" Hardy tried to +set himself right. + +Lopez looked at him scornfully. "How do you know 'e is a rotten business +man?" + +"Why, the fact that I've had to foreclose the mortgage shows that," Hardy +smiled. + +"Not at all. Senor Jones 'ave been away to war. He been away fighting for +'is country." + +"Well, that isn't my fault." + +"No." There was profound contempt in the little word. "He give up 'is +business to go away to fight to save you, while you stay be'ind to rob 'im. +Is zat fair?" + +Hardy gave a gesture of disdain. "I'm not talking about what's fair, or +what's not fair. There's lots of things in this world that ain't right. I +am doing only what the law allows." He thought this cleared his skirts. It +was the refuge of every scoundrel. + +"I do not speak about ze law," Lopez followed him up. "I am doing only what +is fair. If I were you, I should be ashamed for myself! You love your +country?" + +"Certainly I do," the other answered. + +"Like 'ell! You love yourself!" And Lopez deliberately turned his back on +him. + +"Now, wait a minute!" Hardy begged. He could scarcely have this insult +added to the host of others. "I do love my country. I'm a good American." + +"Yet you would rob ze man who fight for your country! Bah!" The bandit +waved his hand in disgust. + +Hardy saw he was in a bad hole. "There's some truth in what you said," he +admitted, trying to crawl out. "He _has_ fought for America. And I'm +willing to do the right thing by him." + +"You will?" yelled Uncle Henry, wheeling close to him. + +"If I get this place, I'm willing to give him a good bonus," Hardy +continued. + +Uncle Henry leaned forward, all eagerness. "How much?" he cried. + +"Say, five hundred dollars," the loan shark generously offered. + +"I knew there was a ketch in it!" Uncle Henry said, and rolled back in the +shadows of the alcove. + +Lopez had been listening intently. Now he stepped up to Hardy and said: +"Senor Santy Claus, now I understand why it is so 'ard for your country to +get ze soldier. In Mexico, ze soldiers would take all ze money and give ze +people a bonus ... per'aps." He puffed his cigarette. "I am done wiz you." +He turned abruptly to Lucia. "Now I shall come to you." + +She started. + +"You love my frand, Senor Jones?" + +Gilbert intervened. He could not stand this. "I don't know what you're +getting at," he said to Lopez, "nor how you're going to get it. But you +must see that you can't discuss a thing like this here. It's +impossible--utterly impossible." He was suffering vicariously for Lucia. + +Pell sneered. "Your delicacy is somewhat delayed," he murmured. + +"I don't mind business discussions. But there's been too much insinuation +to-day. I won't have any more of it," Jones said. + +Lopez looked affectionately at the young fellow, "But if I would make you +'appy...." he said. + +"I don't want to be made happy at a cost so great," Gilbert affirmed. + +Lucia's lovely head drooped, and she moved to the window. + +"It shall be but a moment," the bandit promised. Gilbert walked to the +fireplace so that his face would not be seen. Lopez went over to Lucia. +"Senora, you do not wish to speak of love. Why?" + +"I am married," was the answer. + +"And because you are marry, you cannot speak of love?... Eet is strange +customs. Tell me, senora, what does your marriage service say?" + +"One promises to love, honor, and obey, in sickness and in health, till +death shall part." + +Lopez smiled. "All zat you promise?" + +"Yes," very low. + +"And yet you 'ave divorce!" + +"Yes," lower still. + +"So zat, after 'aving promise to love, honor, and hobey," he tapped off one +finger at a time, and looked as if he wanted to get this mysterious matter +straight in his mind, "until death, you 'ave ze right to break your word +because ze judge say you can? Is zat it?" + +"Y-y-y-yes. I suppose so." + +Lopez smoked a moment, looked at the ceiling, and then said, "Well, why not +break it yourself and save ze trouble!" + +"It's the law," Lucia told him. + +"Humph! An' what does ze 'usband promise? An' 'as 'e kept 'is promise?" +There was no reply. "Is plain 'e 'as not. Zen why should you keep your word +to 'im, when 'e 'as broken 'is word to you? Eh? Why do you not go before ze +judge and 'ave your promise broken? Why ees it ze custom of your country? +Why? Why?" He looked bewildered. + +Lucia could say nothing. What was there to say? Suddenly Uncle Henry's +sharp voice was heard: "I'll tell you why!" + +Lopez turned to him. "And why?" + +"She ain't got no money," Uncle Henry informed the room. + +Lucia lifted her face. "Oh, do you think that would make any difference?" + +"So!" Lopez was interested, "'Er 'usband? 'E 'as money?" + +"He's richer'n mud," Uncle Henry declared. + +Pell started to speak; but Pedro stopped him by lifting his gun. + +"How much?" Lopez asked, not noticing. + +Uncle Henry was bursting with information. "He's worth millions, the big +bum!" + +The bandit's eyes opened wide. "Millions!" he repeated. He looked at Lucia. +"Yet 'e give nozzing to ze wife. H'm! Senora, tell me.... Does a widow in +your country get any of 'er 'usband's money when 'e dies?" + +Pell, listening intently, drew a sharp breath. He caught the significance +of the question. His lips contracted. This damned bandit was capable of +anything. + +Lopez paid no attention to him. He asked for enlightenment from Hardy. +"Senor Loan Fish, do you know?" + +Pell ventured to get out part of a sentence. "Say, what the ..." But +Pedro's active gun came against his ribs, and he paused, as who would not? + +"She gets it all--the wife," Hardy told Lopez. "That is, if the husband +hasn't made a will." + +"'Ave you?" the bandit turned on Pell. "'Ave you made a will?" His tone was +incisive. "Do not lie." + +"No, damn you!" Pell in his rage cried out. "But I'm going to, the first +min--" + +"Good!" smiled Lopez. + +Pell was puzzled, "What do you mean ... good?" + +Lopez did not answer him; instead, he addressed Lucia: "Senora, your +'usband 'e is bad frand for you. 'E beat you, sometimes?" + +Lucia was startled. "Why do you think that?" she asked. + +"I 'ave known ladies what are beaten. It is in ze eyes ... as in dogs and +'orses." He waited a second before he went on, came close to her, and +peered earnestly into her eyes. "_Si_, I sink your 'usband a evil man." He +turned on Pell again. "Say, who are you? Your business, I mean?" + +"I'm in Wall Street," Pell said, in a low voice. What in God's name was +this bandit going to do? What was his game? + +"Wall Street? 'Aven't you never done anything honest? You go to ze war, +per'aps, like my frand, Senor Jones?" + +"I was in Washington," Pell winced. "A dollar-a-year man." + +"You use your money, your power, to escape ze war? So! You are not only a +skindler, but a coward. While my frand fight, you stay to home, to torture +ze woman, H'm! I see it all now. Nice boy, you!" + +Pell could scarcely articulate now, but he managed to get out, "By God, +I've had enough of this--just about enough!" + +Lopez looked at him coldly, a glint in his eye that should have warned +Pell. "Do not worry," he said. "You are about through." He turned to his +friend, Gilbert. "And now, my frand, you shall go." Young Jones did not +understand him. + +"Go?" he asked. "What do you mean?" + +Lopez looked at him calmly, "I 'ave much business to do. You shall not +'ear, nor see, because for you is love, romance! Not business, which are +soddid. Leave all zat for me, which am a business man." He smiled upon +Lucia. "As I said, life 'as been unkind to you, senora. Ze silly law ... ze +foolish custom ... 'ave been around your 'eart, around your soul, like +chains. But fear no more," he assured her. "For I, your frand, shall make +you also 'appy." He put his arm around her. + +She was fearful of his plans. "What are you going to do?" she cried. + +Lopez laughed. "Wait and see. Life shall be yours. And love! Planty money! +All what your 'eart desire. Now go...." + +Pedro started to show them out the door. Gilbert, seeing the movement, +said: + +"But I don't understand ..." + +"I shall call you soon," Lopez said. "Zen you shall see. Now go." He got +between them, and affectionately directed them to the door. + +Gilbert turned to him. "You aren't going to ..." + +The bandit smiled. "Do not worry. I shall do no 'arm. Only good. Please go, +my frand." + +Lucia and Gilbert, deeply puzzled, obeyed, and followed Pedro into the open +air. What did this portend? There had been a strange look in the eyes of +Pancho Lopez. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +WHEREIN A MAN PROVES HIMSELF A CRAVEN, A SHOT RINGS OUT, AND THE BAD MAN +EXPLAINS ONE LITTLE HOUR + + +A heavy silence fell upon the men who were left in the room. The bandit, +unconcerned, puffed his cigarette. Hardy and Pell felt like rats in a trap. +Only Uncle Henry was passive. In the tense stillness, the clock could be +heard ticking on and on. Pell was beginning to crack beneath the strain. +Suddenly he began to pace the floor, his hands behind his back. No tiger in +a cage was ever more impatient in his captivity. + +"If you want money," he finally got out, "for heaven's sake, tell me how +much, and ..." + +Lopez quickly interrupted him. His fury boiled over at the insinuation. "Be +still!" he cried. "You will please be quiet. I 'ave business to sink out +which are 'ard." + +Pell was equally angry. "Why, damn you ..." he sputtered. + +He should have known better. Coldly Lopez took him in. "I 'ave been patient +wiz you--too patient. I see zat now." The other returned his keen gaze, and +for an instant he did not quail; but finally he could stand the strain no +longer. His eyes fell away, and for the first time in all their bitter +encounter he felt himself sinking. A terrible uncertainty came over him. +This Mexican, this beast, was going to do something desperate. There was +not the shadow of a doubt about that. He must go carefully: he must not +lose his self-control. To do so would be madness. + +Luckily, Uncle Henry broke the tension just then: "Am I going to get my +money back?" he cried out. And his chair projected itself into their midst. + +Lopez faced Hardy, across the table. "Senor Loan Fish," he said, "if my +frand, 'e pay you ze money, zen ze rancho belong to him?" + +"If he pays me before eight o'clock," the other replied promptly. + +"Senor Wall Street," the bandit now addressed Pell, "you 'ave ten sousand +dollar. I want it." + +Pell was amazed. "But I--" + +Lopez snapped his fingers. Pedro, who came back at that very moment, took +the money from Pell, and watched his master closely for further +instructions as to what to do. Lopez nodded toward Smith. + +"For 'im," he said. + +"For me?" cried Uncle Henry, joyfully. + +"I must make my frand 'appy," the bandit said. Pedro gave the money to +Uncle Henry. The latter grabbed it as a child might have grabbed a cooky. + +Lopez turned to Pell. "Now--you is rob." To Hardy he said: "You is paid," +and to Uncle Henry, "An' you get your money back. _Bueno!_ Ees finish." + +Pell was cynical. "I'll say that's service," he murmured; and a sardonic +grin came to his thin lips. Perhaps the bandit was joking, after all. But +damn these jokes that kept one in long after school! + +Uncle Henry, however, had a strange apprehension, and wheeled about, facing +Lopez. + +"You ain't goin' to take it back from me, are you?" he inquired. + +"No, Ooncle Hennery," the bandit laughed, "she is yours for keeps. Zat is +all. You may go!" And he waved him out. "And you," to Hardy. "Pedro, show +zem into ze open space!" + +"'Im too?" asked Pedro, indicating Morgan Pell who stood, as though made of +stone, in one corner. + +"_Poco tiempo!_" the bandit said. + +"_Debommultalo!_" his henchman replied. + +"_Si_," Lopez smiled. And Pedro got the invalid and the lanky Hardy through +the door, as a woman might have swept two geese from her path. + +Left alone with the bandit, Pell remarked: + +"Look here, there must be some way to settle this thing." But he had grave +fears. + +"To zat, I 'ave come at last," the bandit replied with an emphasis that +could not be mistaken. + +"You have?" Pell's voice was weak. + +"It shall cost me planty money. I could 'ave tooken you wiz me for +ransom--'elluva big ransom--a million dollar, mebbe. But I am not soddid!" +He laughed, and rubbed his hands together. + +"You aren't going to hold me for ransom?" Pell questioned, relief in his +voice. + +"No." + +"What--what are you doing to do?" + +The reply was as swift as an arrow. "Kill you." + +Pell did not believe what he heard. + +"Kill me?" he repeated, his head on one side, like a bird listening, and +pointing to his chest. + +"_Si._" Lopez had never used a politer tone. + +"You--you're joking." There was a crack in Pell's voice. + +"Joking?" + +"You must be!" huskily. "I thought so all along--now I'm sure of it." + +The bandit faced him, and threw his cigarette over his shoulder in the +chimney-place. "Do I look like a joker?" + +"You sit there, like that, and talk of killing me in cold blood?" + +Lopez took him in through half-closed lids. "I do not like you. Nobody like +you. Alive, you are no good. Dead, you make two people which I love 'appy. +You get me, Senor Wall Street?" + +"Oh, I see," cried Pell, wildly, and doing his best to keep his legs from +giving way, "you would kill me so that my wife can marry this Gilbert +Jones?" A sickly smile curled around his mouth. + +Lopez nodded. "_Si, senor._" + +"If that's all, I'll give her a divorce!" + +"You weel give her a divorce?" Lopez repeated, pretending to be much +interested and pleased. + +Pell saw a gleam of hope through the darkness of this moment. "Yes," came +breathlessly from him. "Then she can marry him. Don't you see? If that's +all you want--he can have her." He was shaking now in every limb. Escape +was almost his. He knew he could not be done away with. "I'll give her to +him!" He staggered toward Lopez, "I will! I swear I will!" he screamed, his +words reaching a high falsetto. + +Lopez rose. "I would look at you once before I shoot," he said slowly, and +took in the other's cringing form. + +"What?" Pell said. + +Disgust was on the features of the bandit--contempt and unbelievable +loathing. + +"I 'ave met mans which would not fight for zeir money," he said with great +deliberation, his lip curled. "I 'ave met mans which would not fight for +zeir lives. But I 'ave never before met ze man which would not fight for +'is woman." + +Pell saw that he was doomed now. He made one final desperate attempt. "But +if you--shoot me--you'll be hanged!" + +"Ha!" laughed Lopez. "If I am ever caught, I shall be 'anged many times!" + +"I'm an American citizen!" shrilled Pell. + +"I 'ave kill many American citizens," replied Lopez, without the slightest +compunction. + +Pell wrung his hands. "My Goverment will pursue you!" + +"You are mistaken. Your Government will watchfully wait. We kill American +citizen. Your Government write us beautiful letter about it.... But we have +waste time!" He drew his gun. + +As Lopez leveled the weapon. Pell all but dropped on his knees. "Wait!" he +cried. "I'll give you money! Plenty of money! A million dollars! Yes, two +million!" It could not be that so shameful a fate was to be his. + +"It is not zat we want money," the bandit replied. "It is zat we _don't_ +want _you_." + +Terror seized poor Pell. "But for God's sake," he wailed, "you wouldn't do +that! You couldn't! Without even a chance for my life. At least fight me +fair!" His voice seemed far away to him--like the voice of another being +from a distant world. + +"Fair?" Lopez rolled the word over. + +"Give me a gun, too!" the fool prayed. + +"Give you a gun! Pedro!" The man had evidently been just outside the door, +and came in at once. "Pedro, you 'ear?" And Pedro grinned. + +"Yes! Give me a chance!" + +"I shall never understand ze American idea. I give you a gun, you say?" + +"Yes! That's the least you can do!" Pell was weeping now. + +"But if I should give you a gun, you might shoot me wiz it!" Lopez laughed. + +"You won't?" + +"I am no damn fool!" the bandit cried. And he deliberately raised his gun +again. + +"You're not going to kill me? No! for the love of God, don't!" He plunged +forward, groveling at Lopez's feet. A woman in a melodrama could not have +begged harder for mercy. "Spare me!" were the words that fell from his +pitiful lips. "For God's sake, spare me! I'll do anything! Go anywhere! He +can have her! You can have her! Her, and all the money I've got, if only +you'll spare my life!" + +The bandit looked down in utter disgust at the cringing form. Never had he +seen anything in the world that he detested more. Pell's fingers were on +the bandit's boots. + +"I did not know zat even a dog could be so yellow," he said. Then he +turned to Pedro. "I do not 'unt rabbits. You kill 'im, Pedro." And he would +not look again on the miserable specimen of a man that wallowed there on +the floor. + +"Ah! for the love of God!" came from Pell, who had half risen. At that +instant Pedro shot from his hip at the debased creature. The form stiffened +and collapsed like a bag, falling partially under the table. + +"It is a good deed," said Lopez, turning. "He was evil man." + +The shot had been heard without. "Red," Gilbert, Hardy, and a few Mexicans +rushed in at the sound. + +"Who shot?" cried the former. + +"Pedro," said Lopez. + +"But what was he shooting at?" "Red" asked. + +Lopez smiled. "Only ze 'usband." + +"What!" cried "Red." He turned and saw the body of Pell lying sprawled on +the floor, and horror came over him. "You've killed him!" His voice was +husky. + +"I 'ave. Most enjoyishly!" said Lopez, lighting a cigarette. + +Gilbert went over and stared down at the mute frame. "He's dead," he +announced. "Completely. Pedro never misses," was the bandit's only +comment. + +"But to kill a man--like that! In cold blood!" Hardy gasped. "Oh, it's +horrible!" + +"Why not?" Lopez wanted to know. "Ze skindler, ze coward what beat his +wife. Was evil man." What white-livered folk these Americans were! + +Gilbert looked down at Pell's body, which had now, in death, a certain +curious dignity. "But don't you see what you've done?" + +Lopez looked at him in bland amazement. "You wouldn't still fool around wiz +ze foolish law, ze silly court?" he inquired. "Do you not see 'ow much +better is my way? One hour ago you 'ave no money, no rancho, no woman. One +little hour! Ze money she is paid, ze rancho she is yours, and ze woman +what you want to marry is free for do so!" He looked Gilbert in the eyes, +and came close to him. "Tell me, 'ave I not keep my promise? 'Ave I not +make you, in one little hour, a 'appy man?" + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +WHEREIN THE BAD MAN CANNOT UNDERSTAND THE GOOD MAN AND DISAPPEARS; AND A +DEAD MAN STIRS + + +Immediately after, Lucia came in. She saw the body of her husband, the legs +drawn up a bit, the arms stretched out, the wounded head turned so that the +blood flowing from the forehead could not be seen. Only a few moments +before, this limp, pitiful object had been speaking to her--calling her by +name. It seemed incredible that Pell was powerless now to harm her. Brute +though he had been, he gained, in this awesome instant, a strange glory, as +the dead always do. The splendor of that universal experience was suddenly +his; and, even lying there like a discarded meal-sack, he took on something +of the pomp of a cardinal who had died. Never, of course, had she respected +him more; and though she could not bring herself to shed a tear, she +looked down at the still body, huddled in a heap, and craved one more word +with him. No matter what has happened between a man and a woman; no matter +what tragic hours they have known, when the moment of separation comes, +there is always that wish to have explained a little more, to have taken a +different course in all one's previous actions. It was not that she blamed +herself; she had nothing on her conscience. But there was an instinctive +dread at meeting the certain pain of this crisis. + +She could not believe that he had gone from her like this. She had read of +people being blotted out in such fashion; but that Fate should bear down +upon her household, that the lightning should strike within the borders of +her garden, seemed impossible. Like everyone else, she never dreamed that a +great tragedy could come to her. Just as we never think of ourselves as +meeting with a street accident, so she never thought of this catastrophe. +Yet there he lay, the symbol of that inexorable terror that moves through +the world. + +She went over quietly to a chair near the table and sat down. She hid her +face in her hands. She did not wish to see that silent form again; yet he +had been her husband, and her place, she knew, was by his side, in death +even more than in life. How the world had changed for her in this little +hour! + +She had come into the room just as Pancho was finishing his talk with +Gilbert; and she caught the force of his words. Now she heard him saying +something else. + +"And now, what you say? You all 'appy, eh?" + +Gilbert was still too dazed to understand. "You've killed him!" was all he +could utter. + +"I 'ave," the bandit answered. "You need not thank me. It was a great +pleasure." Evidently he smiled; Lucia would not look up. + +Gilbert paced the floor. "He's dead!" he kept repeating, as though to brand +the truth upon his brain. "He's dead!" He paused once and stared down again +at the body. + +"He's dead, just as I say," Lopez stated. "Pedro never misses." + +As though he had heard his name spoken, the ubiquitous Pedro ambled in, +slowly, and with a bored expression upon his ugly countenance. + +"Azcooze, my general," he said. His chief turned. "It is ze damn ranger. +Zey is after us some more." + +Lopez never turned a hair. Lucia heard him say: "It is time. I was +agspectin' zem. Ze 'osses?" + +"Zey are ready," Pedro informed him. + +Pancho paused and considered a moment. "Zey come from ze souse, zose +rangers?" + +"_Si_," was the quick answer. + +Lopez rose. "Felipe Aguilaw becomes more hefficient hevery day. I shall +make general of 'im yet. _Bueno_, we go." + +"Red" had gone over and looked out of the window. Twilight had definitely +come, and the sky was a great sheet of flame. Orange, pink, purple, and +red, the clouds shifted over the face of the dying sun. A king going down +to his death could not have passed in greater glory. While men and women +fought their little battles, waged their puny quarrels, this stately +miracle occurred once more. Unmindful of the grief of mortals, the day was +about to pass into the arms of the waiting night. + +"What's it all about?" "Red" asked, turning from the wonderful scene +without to the frightened people within. + +"It is ze ranger what chase me some more again," smiled Lopez. He seemed +wholly unconcerned. + +"Texas rangers after you?" asked "Red," startled. + +"_Si!_" laughed Lopez. + +"And you don't even get excited?" + +"For why? It is not my habit. I give not a damn for any man." He snapped +his fingers, as though at life itself. + +Two horses could be seen through the door. The men were bringing them up to +their leader. "We should take our time--is no hurry." He took his big +sombrero from the peg where he had put it long ago, and turned to Gilbert. +"Well, I go now. _Adios_, my frand." + +"Wait a minute," the other tried to detain him. "You've killed him. You +wouldn't go and leave things this way, would you?" + +"As I say, no trouble for me," Lopez boyishly said, and smiled, shrugging +his broad shoulders. + +Gilbert was astonished. "Yes; but how about me?" he wanted to know, "You do +not think of that." + +The bandit turned, amazed. "What ze matter? Are you not satisfied? You all +what you say: zit--zot--zet!" He pinched his fingers, and made a funny +little noise. + +"I can't think," said Gilbert, sitting down, one hand on his forehead. +"It's all so strange, so confusing to me. The world seems to be rocking +beneath my feet. What does it all mean--this life we live for so brief a +time? What does anything mean?" + +Lopez came over to him and put his hand on his shoulder affectionately. +"You Americanos so queer," he said, "For why you waste time thinking? Are +you not rich? 'Ave you not ze beautiful lady to love like 'ell yourself +personal?" + +Gilbert jumped up. He thought he would go mad if this sort of thing kept +up. "Good God, man!" he cried. "After what you've done, you can talk like +that?" + +"What have I done?" inquired the bandit, blandly. "Well, _what_ I done?" + +Gilbert looked at him in amazement. "You killed him! That's all." + +Lopez smiled. "Sure!" He let the word loiter on his tongue. He pulled it +out like so much molasses candy. "I killed him--sure. Was in ze way. What +else could I do?" + +"You've put a barrier between us. We're of a different brand, a different +calibre. Don't you see?" + +"Ees no way for pliz you. If I do not kill ze 'usband, ees all wrong. If I +do kill ze 'usband, ees all wrong. Say," he looked at him in confusion, +"what ze 'ell shall I do wiz ze damn 'usband, anyway?" He puckered his +brow. + +"Oh, I don't know," Gilbert said in desperation. What was the use in +arguing with this barbarian? Yes, he was a barbarian--nothing else. They +were miles apart. Centuries of belief and training separated them. + +"You don't know?" Lopez said. "Pretty soon you find out. It surprise you +now. But pretty damn soon when all shall go and leave you alone wiz 'er, +you shall be sensible, too--like Mexican. To live is more strong as law. +Wait and see, my frand, wait and see!" He shook his head mysteriously. + +Pedro stepped forward. "Here is a pistol," he said to his master in +Spanish. + +Lopez looked at him. "Ah, _gratia_, Pedro!" He took the weapon from him and +patted him on the back. Then he whispered something in his ear, handed it +back, and Pedro gave it to Gilbert. + +"Ze ranger. Zey come," he said as he did so. + +"_Bueno._ I go," said Lopez, and started toward the door. Then he turned to +Gilbert. "_Astuavago adios._ Maybe we will meet again, maybe no. _Quien +sabe?_" He waved his hand, gave one last look at Pell's limp form, and +cried, "_Adios!_" He was gone--vanished like a ghost. + +They all were mute in the little room. They heard the hoof beats of the +horses as they galloped away. Fainter and fainter grew the sound. Then +silence. And meanwhile the great night was falling like a curtain around +them all. Through the doorway came the last beautiful beams of the sun. The +mountains were like giant sentinels, row on row, unbelievably near in the +semi-darkness. Far off, now and then, a bird could be heard calling. Soon +darkness would envelop the earth, and this day of doom would be gone +forever. Never might they see Pancho Lopez again. Gilbert would go north; +and Lucia--He could not think. + +Hardy broke the silence. He came over and looked down at Pell. "We can't +touch him till the coroner gits here," he said grimly. There were, as +always, ghastly details to be attended to. + +"But I better make sure," said "Red," kneeling beside the body. "Right in +the head. Not a chance." He was peering down at the gaunt face. "No, not a +chance when you get it there." + +Angela, hearing something outside, had rushed to the door and looked into +the growing darkness. "I thought--What was that?" she exclaimed. + +They all listened. Far off a shot could be heard--then another. But it must +have been miles away. + +"Red" sprang up. "Rangers!" he cried. "They're shooting!" + +"Where are they?" Hardy asked. + +"In the arroyo," "Red" replied. He was at the window, looking out. "You'll +see 'em in a minute." + +The sound of shots came nearer. It was as though a miniature army were +storming the section near the adobe. + +Uncle Henry, sitting in the alcove, was terrified. "What's that?" came his +piercing voice. + +"They see him!" cried "Red." + +"Do you think they can hit him?" Angela cried. + +"Red" was certain they could not. "There ain't a chance, at that range," he +said. + +But Uncle Henry was not so sure. "Mebbe they might, by accident." + +"Red" turned. "Accidents don't happen in Arizona--leastwise not with guns." + +The horses' hoof beats came nearer. Yet in all the excitement, Lucia did +not move. She was keeping her silent place by the body of Morgan Pell. She +did not even raise her head. + +"Here they come!" cried Angela, leaning out the doorway. + +"Red" had gone out of the room; but he came back now. "Better get inside," +he warned them all, definite fear in his voice. "We're in range. It's +pretty dangerous. As I said, accidents don't happen down in this country." + +"But I want to see!" cried Angela, dancing with excitement now. + +"Red" was distracted. "Please come in, Angela," he begged. More shots were +heard. He was frightened for everyone. He had lived too long down here not +to know the meaning of such desperate shooting. "What the h----" Two +bullets came through the window, and smashed a little mirror that hung on +the wall near the staircase. The bits of glass fell to the floor with a +loud crash. + +"What's the matter?" came the terrified voice of Uncle Henry. His hands +clung to the wheels of his chair. But he did not budge it. + +"Red" had not been able to dodge a shot. "Right through the hat!" he cried, +and waved his Stetson. Sure enough, a bullet had gone clean through his +headgear. Had he lifted his face a few inches higher, he would have been +shot himself. + +More hoof beats. Yet Lucia never moved. + +"Bullet?" asked Hardy. + +"Yes," "Red" replied. "And it was spang new--this hat. Cost eighteen +dollars!" He was still looking at the tattered Stetson. + +"Oh, it might have hit you!" Angela cried and embraced him. + +"Told you we'd better keep inside!" "Red" said. + +"You bet--until they go by," Hardy agreed. + +"Red" stepped forward. "Back, everybody!" he ordered. He pushed everyone +farther back into the room, until they were all crowded in one corner. +Uncle Henry was trembling like a leaf. How he wished he had never been +brought to this strange country! Oh, for the peace of Bangor, Maine! +_There_ was a place for you! Down here it was all shooting, killing, and +desperate trouble. Having escaped one crisis, was it possible the fates +were to be so unkind as to put him in the way of another, from which there +might be no extrication? Curse the luck, anyhow. Gol darn it! + +The hoof beats came nearer and nearer. There were more shots. A man +dismounted near the door. Then a man on horseback galloped up to the very +entrance of the adobe. There was a general movement without, but no one +ventured to go out and see what had happened. They could hear voices, +sharp commands, and far off one more shot. Someone cried, "Keep on after +him, boys!" + +A ranger came in. He was an angular fellow, with a bushy mustache, and eyes +like a ferret. His gun was on his hip, and one hand never left it. His name +was Bradley. Gilbert knew him well. Often had he met him in the hills. He +was known as one of the best shots of all that company of men who pursued +criminals and bandits through the State, and drove them over the border. +Few escaped him; and he had a train of lieutenants who adored him. A born +fighter, a born pursuer of men, who loved his desperate life, and gloried +in his conquests. Some called him Bradley the Inexorable. He seldom missed +a shot; and God help those who came into his power. + +"We're after Lopez," he said breathlessly. "Been here?" He never wasted +words. + +"Yes," Hardy answered. He looked toward Pell's body. + +Bradley's quick eyes followed his. "Hello! what's that? Wounded?" he asked. + +"Worse--he's dead," Hardy replied. + +Bradley stepped close to the still form. "Who did this? Lopez?" + +"Yes," from Hardy. + +"Got it in the head, eh?" the ranger went on, looking down at Pell, but +with no pity in his face. He was too accustomed to death. A man who had +been killed was just another "case" to him--one of an endless row of +corpses. + +Angela came up to the table. "He's really dead?" she breathed, and clung to +"Red's" big arm. + +"Who was he?" Bradley inquired. + +Hardy motioned to the mute Lucia, sitting so quietly in the chair. "Her +husband. Name's Pell." + +"Sorry for you, lady," said Bradley, perfunctorily, as he might have said +"Good-morning." He turned now to go. "Don't touch him till the coroner +comes," he commanded. "Mind what I say." + +"But officer--" began Hardy. + +"Can't stop," Bradley waved him aside. "Now we _gotter_ get him." He went +out as swiftly as he had come in. Every instant was precious. There was not +a second to be lost. + +And still Lucia did not stir a muscle. It was as if she had been turned to +stone. A silence fell upon them all. "Red" sat down on the little +window-seat, his Angela beside him. Hardy tried to smoke. They could hear +the clock ticking on and on--that little clock which had heard so much as +its hands moved around the dial during the last few pregnant hours. + +Suddenly Uncle Henry, who had been looking at Morgan Pell's huddled form, +cried out; + +"Hey, what's comin' off?" Had the darkness deceived him? + +"Red" jumped at the question. "What's the matter?" His nerves were on edge. + +"He moved!" cried Uncle Henry, excited now, and rising in his chair, which +he wheeled out into the room. + +"Moved!" cried "Red." "You're crazy! He's stone dead, if ever anyone was." + +"I seen him--I swear I seen him!" Uncle Henry's eyes were almost popping +from his head. "Why didn't someone do something? Why didn't they see what +he saw? Oh, to be able to walk, and not sit forever like a dried mummy in +this chair! + +"But how could he have moved?" "Red" exclaimed. "He's dead, I say!" + +"I don't know how he could!" Uncle Henry cried, "but he did! Look at him!" +He could scarcely control himself now. + +"Maybe Lopez didn't kill him after all," "Red" said, and knelt down to +examine Pell's body again. + +"Now don't tell me that!" Uncle Henry yelled. "Ain't we got trouble enough +here without him comin' back?" He could have stood any calamity, it seemed, +but the return to life of this wretched Morgan Pell. + +"By golly!" "Red" exclaimed, on his knees, his hand on Pell's white face. + +"Was I right?" Uncle Henry said. + +"Red" rose slowly. His voice was almost a whisper. "He's alive!" he +breathed. + +Gilbert, who had not taken Uncle Henry's word seriously, could not doubt +"Red's" verdict. + +"Alive!" he said. "Oh, it can't be!" + +For the first time Lucia moved. Her lips opened. "Alive!" she managed to +say. Again the world crumbled for her. + +"It was only a flesh wound," "Red" said. "The bullet just grazed his head." + +Lucia looked up. She was ashen. She was older, and her eyes seemed to have +lost their fire. "He's--really--alive?" she got out. She stared down at her +husband. + +"They should of shot 'im in the stomach!" Uncle Henry stated. What a mess! +What rotten luck, ran through his weary brain. + +Pell's foot moved again. Then his arm went up; and slowly he rose on one +elbow, pushed away the tablecloth that touched his head, and looked about +him. He was like a man awaking from a sound slumber. He was dazed, +mystified. In the almost complete darkness, he could not distinguish faces. + +"What was it? What happened?" he inquired, in a hollow voice--a voice from +the tomb! + +No one answered. They were all terror-stricken. + +"I can't remember," the hollow voice went on. He fell back on the floor. He +was weak from the loss of blood. "Red" lifted him up, and helped him around +the table to a chair. + +Lucia's eyes never left Morgan Pell's face. Was she dreaming? Was this some +madness that had come to her? This brute come back to life! It was +unbearable, unbelievable. She could not adjust her mind to the situation. +But with true feminine instinct, she found herself leaving her chair where +she had sat so long, going to the kitchen and getting a cup of water. Then +she knew, in some strange way, that she had fetched a bowl, and a towel. +These she placed on the table. Still she looked at her husband, as though +he were a ghost--as, literally, he was. They had thought him dead--gone +forever. Now he was back among them, speaking, moving. Incredible! One hand +went to her face. She dreaded the thought of Morgan's seeing her. + +It was Uncle Henry who broke the awful tension. + +"You was shot!" he cried, to Pell. + +The other looked at the old man in the chair. "Shot?" he said. + +"Yes, and a rotten shot it was, too!" Uncle Henry was not afraid to say. +"Gol darn it all!" + +The moment was too tragic for anyone to smile. + +"Who shot me?" Pell asked. He was very weak. He put the towel in the bowl +of water, and pressed it to his forehead. + +"A friend of mine!" cried Uncle Henry. + +Gilbert glared at the old man. No one could be forgiven for a remark like +that. + +"I remember, now," Pell murmured. "The bandit." + +"And a gol darn nice fellow, too," Uncle Henry went on. "A little careless, +but--" + +Pell looked startled. The towel fell from his hand and he looked about him. +"He's not here still!" he cried, as one just coming out of a stupor to a +full realization of his surroundings. + +"No, worse luck!" Uncle Henry said. + +"He's gone?" Pell said. + +"The rangers came," Hardy explained. + +"Texas?" from Pell. + +"Yes, gol darn 'em!" Uncle Henry let out. + +Lucia, who had been watching Pell's face every second, now offered him the +bowl of water with her own hands, and drew closer to him. She picked up the +towel that had fallen to the table, and folded it, then dampened it. Pell +looked up and saw her for the first time. + +"Oh, so there you are, my dear!" was his cynical greeting. + +Lucia still stared at him. "I thought--I thought--you were dead," she +murmured. Her voice sounded far away to her. It was scarcely a whisper. + +"So it seems!" Morgan Pell answered, his lip curling. "My dear, I regret to +disappoint you. But aside from a slight pain in my head, I was never better +in my whole life!" He wanted to see the effect of his words. + +"Shall I bandage your wound for you?" his dutiful wife asked. + +He looked at her from the corner of his eye. "Thank you--no," he said. + +Lucia sat down on the other side of the table. + +Not a word more was said. Pell took out his own handkerchief, and started +to dip it in the bowl of water. But he was shaking still, and the piece of +linen dropped to the floor. He stooped to pick it up. As he did so, he saw, +in the dim light, the option lying exactly where Pancho Lopez had tossed +it. He grasped it in his hand, crushed and crumpled as it was, and thought +no one had observed him. But Uncle Henry's eagle eye had seen his movement. + +"What's that?" he called out. + +Pell tried to seem unconcerned. "The option, my dear sir," he answered +truthfully. + +"By gollies, he's got it again!" Uncle Henry yelled, in desperation. He +switched his chair around, and faced Gilbert. "Why didn't you tear it up +while he was dead?" he asked. + +Pell addressed Uncle Henry. "You've got ten thousand dollars of my money," +he firmly said. + +"_I_ have?" + +"I want it," was the other's immediate reply. + +"It was paid me for a debt," the old man said. + +"It was stolen from me first," Morgan Pell stated, calmly. "Come across." +He put one hand out. The other still held the cloth to his wounded +forehead. + +"I'll be cussed if I will!" the invalid cried. He clapped his hands over +his vest pocket, where the money was safely hidden. + +"Why, you poor old crook--" Pell began, rose, and snatched the money from +Uncle Henry before anyone knew what he was doing. All his old fire was +back. He seemed the most alive man in the room. + +Uncle Henry cried out, wildly, "Hey, ain't there no Americans present?" He +saw Gilbert's gun which was on the seat beneath the stairway. He was close +enough to grasp it. He did so, pointed it at the room in general, and +yelled, "Now I got yuh! Hands up, everybody!" + +But no one moved. A disdainful silence followed. "Didn't yuh hear what I +said?" Uncle Henry inquired, looking at everybody. + +"Put that down," said Hardy contemptuously. "You might hurt somebody," he +added, smiling. + +"Ain't yuh goin' to do it?" Uncle Henry asked. + +"As I was going to say--" Hardy started, when Uncle Henry interrupted him +with: + +"But it was what _he_ done!" + +"Who?" asked Hardy. + +"The bandit," Uncle Henry answered. + +"Will you keep still?" Hardy urged. + +"Certainly not!" Uncle Henry went on. "I got a gun here and I--" + +Hardy reached for the weapon. "I'm holdin' you up, gol darn it!" Jasper +Hardy took the gun as he would have taken a bag of peanuts from a child, +and handed it to Gilbert with a wink. + +"Hey! You can't do that!" wailed the invalid. He wheeled his chair toward +his nephew. "You wouldn't do that if my friend Lopez was here, you big +bum!" he ended, as peevish as an infant. + +Pell turned upon his wife. "Well, my dear--" he began, and once more his +lips curled at the irony of the last phrase. + +"What!" Lucia said; and there was terror in her voice. + +Pell did not mince words. "Having both the Option and a clearer +understanding of each other, there's nothing to detain us." He measured +everything he uttered, and watched the effect upon her. + +"It's no use," Hardy broke in. "You're too late." + +"Not if I got there by eight o'clock," Pell said. + +"But you won't!" Jasper Hardy quickly said, glancing at the clock which +ticked on, inexorably. + +Pell pulled out his watch. Then he looked at the option, deliberately, +carefully, and seemed to read a final sentence. Having done so, he tore the +piece of paper to bits slowly, and scattered them on the floor at his feet. +At that very instant the clock struck eight. + +"It's eight o'clock!" "Red" exclaimed on the last peal of the bell. + +"Eight o'clock!" Hardy cried. "And the place belongs to me!" He turned to +Pell. "Anything more from you?" he inquired, and smiled. + +The other stared at him; but he said nothing. Instead, he went over again +to the table, and wet his handkerchief in the bowl, again refusing Lucia's +proffered assistance with a wave of his other hand. He bathed his own +wound. And meanwhile Hardy was saying to Gilbert: + +"Well, young feller, it's your move." + +"His move!" "Red" repeated the phrase. "Say, you wouldn't go and skin him +out of the place all over again, would you?" + +Hardy sneered. "I'm going to foreclose, certainly, if that's what you mean, +you impudent young scoundrel!" + +"You mean you would trim him again?" "Red" didn't believe it. + +"Say, boy, you better use your head. You're going to marry my darter, ain't +you?" + +"Yes--I hope so," the foreman said. + +"Well, don't you realize that all I got will eventually go to you and her? +Don't you?" + +"It will?" asked the incredulous "Red." + +"Certainly; when I die," answered Hardy. + +"I hope it'll be soon!" cried out Uncle Henry. Then, to "Red," "Don't you +see he's leading you up to the top o' that gol darn mountain?" + +"Red" did not understand. "Gol darn _what_?" he said. + +Uncle Henry was exasperated at his stupidity. "Why, he's temptin' you, the +old devil! Don't let him. It's a gol darn shame," he added, turning his +chair so that he faced Hardy, "an old scoundrel like you tryin' to corrupt +a nice young feller like him! Don't you know money you get like that won't +do you no good?" + +"It's his--Gilbert Jones's," cried "Red," "and I ain't goin' to be party to +robbin' him of it!" + +"Hooray!" yelled Uncle Henry. "That's the boy! I knew you was like that. +You're all right!" And he backed into the alcove, happier than he had been +in a long time. + +"You hear that?" Hardy said to his daughter. + +"I do," she answered, "and he's right." + +"What's that?" said her surprised father. + +"It is Gil's, and to take advantage of him isn't fair. You know it as well +as I do, too!" She stamped her little foot. + +"Say, you don't think you love him again, do you?" Hardy wanted to know. + +From the alcove, Uncle Henry cried: "That's the idea! And if the poor +sucker'd only marry her--" + +But Angela interrupted: "It isn't him I care for. It's--" She cut herself +off, and could have bitten out her tongue for thus revealing her heart. + +"Angela!" cried the enraptured "Red." He went over to her, grasped her +around the waist, and led her to the window. + +Hardy said, trying to pacify his daughter: "But I ain't going to be hard on +him--or on Jones." + +"You ain't?" Uncle Henry cried. + +Hardy turned to the nephew. "You know, that stuff Lopez said about me bein' +a bum patriot stuck in my craw. And now that I got the place, if you ever +need any help I'll be glad to go on your note for you." + +Gilbert said nothing; but Uncle Henry rushed in with, "You will?" + +"That is, if it ain't too much," Hardy craftily added. + +"How much?" Uncle Henry asked. + +"Oh, two hundred dollars," Jasper Hardy grandly said. + +"Two hundred dol--Git out o' my way!" Uncle Henry wheeled straight through +him. + +"Say, where are you goin'?" Hardy cried. + +"To Mexico!" Uncle Henry said. "This country's gettin' so it ain't fit to +live in!" And he whirled out of the room. + +Hardy turned to his daughter. "Nothing to keep us here any longer. Come on, +Angy." + +"Come, 'Red,'" said the girl, as she started to follow her father. What +else was there to do? + +Even though it was Angela who called to him, "Red's" allegiance was for the +moment elsewhere. + +"I gotter stick by him," he said, looking at Gilbert. + +"No," said Gilbert. "This is something I've got to settle alone. But I +thank you, 'Red'--I thank you with all my heart. You're a brick--a red +brick." He smiled and patted him on the back. + +"Red" was suspicious still. He looked at Gilbert. "You don't think he'll +try any funny business, do you? You're sure you won't need me around?" + +"How can he try any funny business?" Gilbert asked. + +"I know," said "Red." Gilbert looked at him closely. "I get yuh," the +foreman continued. "But I don't like it just the same." He switched over to +the malignant Pell. "There's one little detail I'd like to call your +attention to," he said. + +"Well?" Pell said. + +"I'm a tough little feller myself, sometimes. And if anything should happen +that shouldn't, I'll be waitin' for you in town with a one-way ticket. And +it won't be to New York. Savez?" Then he turned to his adored and adoring +Angela. "Come, Angy!" + +And he grasped her arm, and took her out. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +WHEREIN AN OLD SITUATION SEEMS ABOUT TO BE REPEATED, ANOTHER SHOT IS FIRED, +AND THE BAD MAN COMES BACK + + +Deeper and deeper grew the darkness. Outside, indeed, the first stars had +begun to shine, and soon the heavens were a miraculous glory. But there was +no moon. Every road was hushed, and the trees waved their long arms in the +gloom. The little machine that took Angela and her father home, rolled down +the quiet valley. Its chug-chug was the only sound for miles around. "Red" +was happy in the cool night. He rode all the way out to the Hardy ranch. He +and Angela sang an old song, and let Jasper Hardy sit at the wheel and +whirl them to the lights of home. + +Meantime, back in Gilbert's adobe, the Mexican cook came from his stuffy +kitchen and fetched a lamp for the sitting-room. He lighted two candles by +the fireplace, closed the shutters and door, and went back to his pots and +pans. He said nothing, noticed nothing. It had been a day of intense +excitement for him, and he was glad to crawl back, like some tiny worm, +into the cave where he ruled supreme. + +Lucia, in the lamplight, was paler than before. The three of them were +standing, curiously enough, almost as they had stood only a few brief hours +ago; and as she looked around her now she thought of this. + +"So," she said. "We're back just where we started from!" The grim humor of +it came over her. Ten minutes ago she had thought her husband dead--done +for, out of the way. Now he stood before her in all his virility, in all +his cruelty; and behind him was the one man in the world that she loved. + +"Not quite," said Gilbert. He stepped forward a pace or two. He saw that +Lucia was alarmed. "Come," he begged of her. "Don't be afraid." Oh, the +balm of those few words! + +But she was not wholly herself yet. "What are you going to do?" she asked, +and came nearer Gilbert. How strong and determined he looked in the dim +light! + +"I'm going to have this thing out," he said. "You can never go back to him +now." There was finality in his voice. + +"No, I never can," Lucia agreed. And there was finality in her voice, too. +It was as if Destiny had come into this house, and an unheard voice told +them what to do. + +"You'll trust me to protect you--until--" Gilbert went on. + +She looked at him pleadingly. "Oh, take me with you, Gil!" She threw her +arms out. She had nothing to fear now, his strength beside her. She told +him in one glorious gesture that she was his forever--that she had +surrendered herself, body and soul, to him. Gilbert looked at her. Slowly, +he realized that this woman, this creature of his dreams cared for him, and +him alone; and the world might sweep by, the stars and moon might crash to +earth, and they would neither know nor care. Fate had brought her to him. +Nothing else mattered now. What was Morgan Pell? In life he was as impotent +as when he lay half concealed beneath the table near which he now stood. +They would not consider him, save as the foolish laws of man made it +necessary for them to consider him. + +Gilbert turned to Pell. "You heard--she's mine now. And any course you may +take to stop her--" he warned. It was useless to say more. The manner in +which young Jones spoke told the whole story of his feelings. + +Yet Pell tried to appear nonchalant and casual. "You haven't another drink +around, have you?" he inquired. He still held his handkerchief to his +wounded forehead. "That was a rather nasty one I got, you know." + +Gilbert, though he loathed him as a serpent, remembered that he was this +creature's host, and stepped over to the fireplace where there was a flask +with a little tequila still left. He offered Pell the bottle. + +"You were saying--?" Pell went on. He poured himself a stiff drink. +"Something about leaving me, wasn't it?" It was plain to be seen that he +was bluffing. "I'm sorry," swigging down what he had poured, "but I wasn't +listening very closely. This thing here--" he tapped his wound. No one +answered him, and he set down his glass. "Well?" to his wife. + +She faced him with a flame in her eyes. "Had I known you, I never would +have married you. But now that I do know you, I could never live with you +again. I loathe and despise you, with all the strength that is in me." + +"You want to leave me, eh?" He sneered as he stared at her. "And go with +him?... Won't your reputation--?" + +"What do I care for my reputation?" she flared. "At least I shall have my +self-respect. I never could keep that if I went back to you." + +"It's _your_ reputation, of course," Pell smiled. "You can do as you like +with it." He turned fully toward her. "All right, I've no objection." + +"You're lying," Gilbert affirmed. + +Pell's tongue rolled round in his cheek. "I don't blame you for thinking +so. _You_ haven't been shot to-day. You should try it sometime. It changes +one's viewpoint surprisingly." His voice seemed to lose its hardness for a +moment; there was a note of self-pity in it. + +"But you said--" Gilbert began. + +Pell's whole manner changed, and the look of a wounded animal came into his +eyes. "A man says many things in anger that he doesn't mean," was his own +extenuation. "Haven't you ever made the same mistake yourself, Jones? I'm +sure you have. There's no use getting excited." He put up a hand. "Here we +are, we three. She is my wife. But she doesn't love me, nor do I love her. +She does love you. What is the best way out for all of us?" + +A new Morgan Pell! They could scarcely believe the metamorphosis. + +"You'd give her up?" Gilbert said. + +The other looked down, and the point of his boot drew a little ring on the +floor. "I can't hold her," he said, "if she doesn't want to be held, can +I?" + +"You don't intend--" + +"To fight you?" Pell looked him squarely in the eye. "I do not. I've had +all the fighting I want for one day. Now, my own course is simple. I have +merely to go back to New York and forget that either of you ever existed. +But your problem is more difficult. It's after eight. You've lost the +ranch. And you have no money." + +"But I can earn money," Gilbert said. + +"A hundred dollars a month punching cows? With her in a boarding-house in +Bisbee? A nice life, isn't it? Do you care to think of it, both of you?" + +"I can take care of her," Gilbert was quick in saying. + +"With your friend, Lopez--if he escapes--become a professional killer. My +dear chap, you forget. She's used to decent people. It makes all the +difference in the world." Pell turned away, lest the hard look should +return to his countenance. + +Lucia had been listening intently. "I know him, Gil," she whispered, loud +enough for her husband to hear. "He's trying to frighten us!" + +Pell faced her. "Frighten you? You're wrong, my dear. I'm merely trying to +help you. That's all." + +There was a step on the path--another step. Several people were approaching +the adobe. Without ceremony, the door was thrust open, and Bradley was +before them, excitement in his eyes. He came into the room and dim figures +could be seen behind him. Was that Lopez tied up, with his back to them in +the darkness? His shoulders were bent over, his hat was pulled down over +his brow. His hair was matted, and two Mexicans stood guard on either side +of him. Far away the stars twinkled, unmindful of his plight. + +"Got any water?" Bradley asked. + +"Lopez!" Pell exclaimed. + +"He's got him!" came from Gilbert. + +Lucia grew paler still. "Lopez! Captured!" she cried. "Oh!" And she hid her +face in her hands. What a few brief hours could bring! + +Bradley came close to her. "And a fine day's work for us, lady," he said, +triumph in his tone. "We got him at last." Then, in the light of the +candle, he caught a good view of Pell. "Say, I thought you was dead!" he +cried. + +"I was," laughed the other. "I mean--only a scalp wound." And he pointed to +the mark on his forehead. + +The figure at the door, piteous in its helplessness, never moved, never +turned. + +"Give me that water," Bradley continued. "I want to get him in alive if I +can. All the more credit to me and my men, you see." + +Morgan Pell had taken the canteen down from the wall and poured some water +in it. Now he handed it to Bradley. "There you are," he said. + +"Thanks," the ranger said. He went back to the door, and pushed the jug to +the lips of his prisoner. "Take a swig o' that." Lopez did so. His +humiliation was evident even in his back. And only a little while ago he +had been the monarch of all he surveyed! Now he was the slave of Bradley, +and must ride, hand-cuffed, to the jail a few miles away. + +"He's wounded," said Lucia, going to the door. "You can't take him--like +that!" she exclaimed. She longed for Lopez to turn and look at her; yet she +longed, oddly enough, that he would not do so in the next second. It would +be as difficult for her, as for him, if they saw each other. Her heart went +out to him--this friend of Gilbert's--and hers. + +Bradley hated this show of feminine weakness. "Why can't I take him like +that? Do you think I'm going to nurse an invalid like him around these +parts?" He took the canteen from one of his men. "Here," he said, handing +it back to Pell. + +"That's all right. Keep it; you may need it later on," said Pell, as though +the jug were his to give away. + +"Much obliged," the ranger thanked him, nothing loath. "Come on, Bloke. +Good-night. We got him!" + +He gave the bandit a shove, and two other rangers grasped him by either +arm. In a twinkling they were gone, had mounted their horses and were +galloping away in the starlight. + +So everything was over and done with! Lucia was heart-broken for Lopez. She +came back into the room, murmuring: + +"Lopez! Lopez captured!" There were tears in her eyes. + +Pell paced the room with new strength. His eyes were now sinister. + +"Fortunately for us, my dear," he said. "For now we are certain not to be +disturbed while working out a sensible solution of our little problem." He +had forgotten the pain in his head. He lighted a cigarette, casually, +slowly. "You will of course sue for divorce," he went on, blowing a ring to +the ceiling and watching it ascend. "But there'll be no difficulty about +that. I shall not contest," he added magnanimously. + +She grasped at the straw. "You won't?" She almost believed him now. + +"You'd win, anyway," her husband said. "But there _is_ the question of +alimony." + +Gilbert swerved about. He detested the word. "Alimony!" he cried. + +"An attractive woman never gets the worst of it in court," Pell coldly +stated. "Suppose we settle that--right here and now. It will give you ready +money. And it will save me from having to pay perhaps a greater sum--later. +That is...." + +Gilbert was incensed. "We don't want your money!" he cried. And Lucia +treated the suggestion with the scorn it deserved. + +Pell looked at them both. "No? Well, in that case, I suppose there's +nothing more to be said." + +"And we are free to go?" Lucia cried, unbelieving. + +Her husband puffed again. "Why not? I know I shan't stop you." Suddenly he +dropped his cigarette, leaned heavily against the table, swayed a bit, and +put his hand to his head. The old pain was returning. + +"You're suffering?" Lucia asked, alarmed. A strange pallor had come over +him. + +"I regret--that water--I gave away so liberally," Pell said, his voice +weak. + +"There's more," Gilbert cried. "I'll get it." He went hurriedly to the +kitchen. + +"Is there anything I can do for you?" Lucia asked, sympathy in her tone. +Always with her was the womanly instinct to serve, to help. Morgan was like +a wounded animal to her, and as deserving of attention as any hurt thing. + +"No, thank you," he said. + +"Oh, I'm sorry! I ..." + +Gilbert was back with another canteen. He went close to Pell and put the +jug to his lips, standing by his side, leaning over to proffer the cooling +water. As he did so, Pell stealthily reached out--Lucia could not see the +movement, for she had gone over to the fireplace--and craftily removed +Gilbert's gun from his hip-pocket. While in the very act of taking this +man's sustenance, he was playing him a foul trick. His heart lost a beat +at the easy success of his plan, the fulfillment of a wish he had been +harboring for the last ten minutes. He thrust the canteen away, stood up +suddenly, and pointed the stolen weapon straight at Jones. + +"Now, I've got you just where I want you!" he snarled. + +Lucia saw his base trickery. Why had she been so stupid as to believe in +him again? Why had she not warned Gilbert? What fools they had both been! + +"Gil!" she cried out; and anguish was hers--a deep, horrible moment of +suffering. It was all up with them. They were as helpless as Pell had been +with the bandit a few hours before. Caught, ensnared, trapped! + +"Why, damn you!" Gilbert screamed, and made a futile lunge for Pell. But he +was too late. The revolver was leveled at his head. + +"Make a fool out of me, will you, you s----" Pell said, and his eyes +glittered. A snake never looked more venomous. "I've got you now--got you +both, and by God--" + +"He means it, Gil!" Lucia cried, and threw herself into her lover's arms. +She would die, if he died--she would die with him. + +Pell stepped nearer to his intended victim. "Our wife is right," he +scoffed. "It isn't killing that I mind--it's being killed that I object +to." + +"They'll hang you!" Gilbert warned. + +Pell smiled his sardonic, evil smile. "The unwritten law works in Arizona +as well as in other places." He brutally ordered Lucia to get out of his +way. + +But Lucia still clung to Gilbert. "I won't! I won't move!" she yelled, and +her voice held the desperation of womankind. + +Deliberately Pell said: "All right! Then take what's coming to you and you +go to hell together, damn you both!" + +He raised the gun and aimed a deadly aim. + +Gilbert, in that mad moment, threw Lucia aside, to save her. He could not +let her die with him, much as he hated to leave her with this fiend +incarnate. "You'd better shoot straight," he cried to Pell. "Because, by +God, if you miss...." With one wild lunge, he knocked the lamp from the +table between them, and there was instant and terrible darkness. + +Confused, Pell did not know what to do. His tongue was cleaving to the roof +of his mouth, his hand seemed to freeze on the trigger. + +"What the devil!" he called out. And then a figure appeared miraculously in +the alcove, where one candle still burned, shedding a ghostly beam of light +from a shelf. "Good God!" + +A shot rang out. But it was not Pell's revolver from which it sped. Morgan +Pell crumpled at the feet of Gilbert, and the bandit rushed in, the smoke +still coming from his gun. + +"Santa Maria del Rio de Guadaloupe!" he cried. "'Ow many time I got for to +kill you to-day, any'ow? Now, damn to 'ell, mebbe you stay dead a while, +eh?" He looked down at the shriveled form. And as of old he called to his +henchman, "Pedro!" + +And Pedro was there. "_Si!_" he said. + +"Did I not tell you for kill zis man?" said Lopez, pointing in disgust to +Morgan Pell. + +Swiftly in Spanish, and frightened almost out of his wits, poor Pedro +muttered something wholly unintelligible. + +"Ees bum shooting! If she 'appen some more, zen I 'ave for get new Pedro. +Should be too bad. Especially for you. You onnerstand?" + +Terrified at the thought, poor Pedro simply shivered. "_Si_," he whispered. + +Lopez indicated Pell's body, and took out a cigarette nonchalantly. "Take +'im away. Ees no use for nobody no more." Pedro started to lift the heavy +form. "Save ze clothes and ze boots," he reminded his faithful man. + +"_Si_," the latter said, meekly. + +Venustiano appeared from the outer darkness, as if by magic, and rushed to +Pedro's aid. They lifted the stricken Pell, and carried him away. + +The distasteful business finished, Lopez turned to Gilbert. + +"Now, zen, you all right some more, eh?" he asked. + +Gilbert could not understand. "I guess so," he said, "I--I thought you were +captured!" + +"Me?" said Lopez in surprise, "It is not me, ees my double!" + +"Your double?" Gilbert, amazed, answered. + +"Ees idea what I get from ze moving pitchers." + +Gilbert and Lucia stared at each other; then at the bandit. + +"Then it wasn't you they captured?" Gilbert said. + +He flicked the ashes from his cigarette. "I should be capture by ze damn +ranger? Ees a idea!" He roared with mirth. "No, no! Long time I 'ave fix +zat." + +"But how? How do you work it?" Gilbert inquired, his brain in a tumult. + +"I pick from my men ze best rider. I make 'im for look like me. So when ze +ranger wish for chase me, 'e go while I remain be'ind. It save me moch +hexercise. Say, why you no kill 'im yourself? You got ze gun." Lopez was +mystified. + +"I--I couldn't," Gilbert answered. + +"Ees no difference from us three--me, you, and 'im," Lopez explained. "You +is afraid for kill. 'E was afraid for die. Me, I am afraid for neizer! Now +zen, what you do, eh?" He patted Gilbert on the shoulder. + +"I don't know," the young man said. "We've got to go somewhere." + +Lopez was firm. "No. You shall stay right 'ere in your 'ome sweet 'ome." + +"But I've lost the place." He pointed to the little clock that was ticking +out its relentless minutes. "It's after eight o'clock." + +"No," said Lopez, definitely. "For at 'alf-past six-thirty, what I do? I +tell you. When I am chase by ze ranger what I follow, I sink for myself +eight o'clock she soon come. Suppose moggidge of my frands he meet wiz +accident? Would never do!" He waved his arms. "So I goes and pays 'er +myself!" He handed Gilbert a paper. + +Gilbert could not believe his eyes. "What's that?" he wanted to know. + +"Ees recipe," Lopez affirmed. + +"But where did you get the money?" Gilbert asked, incredulously. + +Lopez winked. "Ees all right." + +"Where did you get it?" the American persisted. + +"I rob ze bank," said Lopez; and thought nothing more of it. + +"Robbed the bank?" Gilbert was wide-eyed now. + +"Sure! Ees what I go to town for." + +Jones turned away. "It's all off again!" + +The bandit was discouraged. "No! I am become business man what are tired +myself! I take ze money to lawyer what are frand for me. 'E go to ze judge +what 'ave come 'ome planty dronk. 'E tell ze judge you send 'im for pay ze +moggidge. Judge say sure, and 'and 'im recipe. Ees all right." And the +bandit, convinced of his logic, strutted to the fireplace, and threw his +cigarette away. + +"But I--must pay him back," Gilbert wanted to make it clear. + +"I 'ave planty money. You mus' not worry, my frand. I give you ten sousand +dollar which you can send back should you be so foolish." + +But Gilbert was obdurate. "I can pay it back. The oil--" + +"I am sorry. Zere is no oil," the bandit informed him. + +This was the consummating blow to the young man. "But you said--" + +"I tell you one damn big lie," Lopez laughed. "But 'as she not a million +dollar from ze 'usband which I kill?" He nodded toward Lucia. + +"Oh!" cried she. "How can you speak of such things--now?" + +"You don't think we'd touch one penny of that, do you?" Gilbert followed +up. + +Lopez looked puzzled. "Ze law is give it to you." + +Disgustedly Gilbert cried, "The Law!" + +"Ha!" The bandit saw his chance. "Is it possible all ze law what you love +is not so damn wise, after all?" He was tickled at his own perspicacity. +"However, it makes no never mind. You shall still be rich any'ow. I shall +send back all ze cattle what I steal from you." + +"You will? That's generous, to say the least." And Jones couldn't help +smiling. + +"And planty more what I shall steal for you myself personal. Now zen, is +all right? You 'ave ze money, ze lady, everyzing." Surely there was nothing +lacking, Lopez tried to make it plain, for complete happiness. There were +no bars now in the path of content. + +Yet this stupid young American was asking questions still! "But have I +everything?" he said, and, stooping, picked up the gun that Pell had +dropped just before he was killed. + +Lopez was amazed. "Have you?" he said, and pointed to Lucia. "There is it!" + +"But is it all right?" the young man persisted. + +A look of scorn came over the face of the bandit. "If it makes you 'appy, +what you care? You should not look ze gift 'appiness in ze face. Go on, +take her. Ees nice; you like 'er." + +Still Gilbert hesitated. "But I can't now." + +"And why not?" the bandit asked. He was thoroughly weary of Gilbert's +dilly-dallying, so foreign to his own philosophy. + +"Maybe sometime. By and bye; but not now." + +"If she is all right by and bye, why the 'ell is she all wrong now?" cried +Lopez, incensed. + +"You're not as sorry as I am. God knows, I want her." + +Lopez was desperate by this time. "_Dios!_" he fairly yelled. "You +Americanos make me seek! I shall come 'ere and work like 'ell all day to +make you 'appy, and the best I get is zis!" In his despair, he broke into +Spanish: "_Per dios mio!_" Stupidity could go no farther! What fools these +youngsters were! + +"I don't mean to be ungrateful," Gilbert explained. + +There was silence for a moment. Lopez strode up and down the room like an +animal. He was hot and disgusted. What was the use, after all? Why didn't +this young fellow, who had proved himself so brave and so worthy, show +signs of the red blood in him? No Mexican would have acted like this--no +Latin. He would make him get his happiness, if he had to die in the +attempt. Suddenly a crafty look came into his eyes. He came straight toward +Gilbert and snapped his fingers in his face. + +"Bah!" he cried. + +But all the young ranchman said was, "I'm sorry. You don't understand our +ways." + +"Shut up!" Lopez was genuinely infuriated now. "Ees no use for talk wiz +such fools. You make me seek! Such ideas! Not fit for ze child to 'ave! No +blood, no courage! Only ze liver what are white and ze soul what are +yellow." Gilbert winced at the word. "Americans! Bah! Fishes! Zat is all! +Fishes what ees poor! Bah! For you I am finish!" And he snapped his fingers +again. His face was purple with rage. + +He heard Gilbert murmuring only, "I'm sorry!" + +"Sorry! Ees all you can say--sorry! Ze coward! Ze fool! Ze fish what are +poor! Ze damn doormat for everybody to walk from!" His arms were flying in +the air. "All day I 'ave try to make ze man from you! It are no use. Ees no +man in you. Only ze damn fool what are sorry! Bah! All right. You will not +let me make you 'appy? _Bueno!_ Zen I shall go back and make you on'appy +and serve you damn good right!" He pointed to Lucia. "You will not take +'er?" + +Gilbert had stood still during this tirade. "I've tried to explain--" he +began once more. + +"Bah!" cried Lopez. "Zen I take her!" + +At last the American was roused. "You take her!" he cried. + +"Sure! All day I 'ave want 'er. Ees ze first time in my life when I want +woman all day and not--as favor I give 'er to you. Now, since you too big +damn fool not to take 'er yourself, I take 'er myself. And what you know +about 'im?" He paused, and called out, "Pedro!" + +Fearful at what might happen, Gilbert said, "Wait a minute." He thought +swiftly. "You mean this?" + +Lopez did not even answer him, so deep and abiding was his disgust. +Instead, he said to his man, "Pedro, we go." + +Gilbert watched his every motion. "You mean it?" he repeated. + +Lopez laughed. "Everybody sink I am joker to-day. Pedro, take 'er," and +nodded toward the terrified Lucia. + +Pedro started to obey. + +"I'm damned if you do!" cried Gilbert. "All day you've been trying to make +me do things your way. I've had enough. This Mexican stuff may be all right +in your country, but it won't go here!" + +He threw a protecting arm around Lucia, who was panting and pale. He pulled +his gun, and aimed it at Pedro's head. "Drop it!" he cried. Pedro obeyed +like lightning. The gun fell to the floor with a vibrating crash. + +Then Gilbert covered Lopez. "If this is a trick--" he cried. + +"Trick for what?" the bandit wanted to know. He nodded to Pedro. "Get ze +men. 'E will not shoot!" + +Enraged beyond control, young Jones cried out: "For the last time! You mean +it? I know what you've tried to do, and I'm grateful; but there's one thing +that I must do!" Still the gun was leveled at the bandit's head. + +"What's that?" nonchalantly. + +"Protect her!" Gilbert said, drawing Lucia closer to his heart. + +Lopez smiled again. "You will not shoot." + +"I will--if I must!" + +"Oh, ze wolf in ze sheep's overcoat!" the bandit smirked. + +"I will! I warn you!" + +"Gil!" cried Lucia, in mortal terror. + +"It's your life or his, and I'm damned if it's yours! I'll give you just +three seconds to get out of here! Now," and there was a fire in his eyes +that could deceive no one, "you hear me? One--two ..." + +"Don't shoot!" cried the bandit. And he laughed outright, almost doubling +up with mirth. + +"It was a trick?" Gilbert asked, beginning to see light. + +"_Si._ Ah, my frand, I 'ave make ze man from you at last! Fine man what +would kill for 'is woman!" He patted him on the shoulder. + +Gilbert looked at him seriously, and the terrible realization came to him. +"I _would_ have killed you! Yes, I _would_ have killed you--and you are my +friend!" + +Lopez saw how earnest he was. "I know. And it makes me very 'appy. For at +last you 'ave became ze man of intelligence--like me. You could not leave +'er go now, could you?" + +Gilbert looked at the relieved Lucia. "No!" he cried. + +"You not question ze what you call Destiny, do you?" Lopez said. + +"No." + +"Zen for you I am Destiny, to beat 'ell!" He walked toward the door. + +There was a whistle outside. Pedro had drifted into the night. The stars +poured their miracle of beauty into the room as Pancho Lopez flung the door +wide. + +"Well, no more of zat!" he said. "I must go--to leave you to live and love! +No, you shall not zank me," as Gilbert started to speak. "Ees I shall zank +you, for 'ere in your quiet 'ome you 'ave give me ze most peaceful day I +'ave spend in years." He smiled his captivating smile, and for the first +time took his sombrero from his head. He made a grand gesture. "Ees 'appy +day for you. Ees 'appy day for 'er. Ees 'appy day for me!" + +He made a very low bow. Then he stepped forward and touched Lucia on the +arm, and led her to Gilbert. One hand was on the shoulder of each. + +"You will name ze baby for me sometime--Pancho, or per'aps Panchita?" There +was a wistful note in his deep voice, and a look of eagerness in his eyes. +"Not ze first one, per'aps--but mebbe, like you say, by and bye--later? +Eh?" + +There was another whistle down the starlit road. + +"_Adios_, my frands! And may you always be so 'appy like what I 'ave make +you!" + +He was gone. They heard the horses trotting away; and even in that moment +of blinding and almost unendurable happiness, they were conscious of a +tinge of sorrow. + +For when would they ever see Pancho Lopez again? + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +WHEREIN AN OLD FRIEND RETURNS, AND THERE IS A JOYFUL REUNION + + +On a wonderful afternoon, more than two years later, Lucia sat in the +little Spanish courtyard that Gilbert had had built a few months after +their marriage. The air was like golden wine, and she drank it in, bathed +her soul in it, as though she could never find enough joy through these +slow hours. How marvelous life had been to her in the last radiant months! +She had realized the fulfillment of her most cherished dream, and looked +down now at a tiny pink face that smiled at her. + +"Oh, how sweet you are, Pancho!" she was saying. "I don't know what I ever +did without you!" And she kissed the baby's cheek, which instantly took on +a rosy hue. + +There is an ecstasy that is close to tears; and in the happiness that Lucia +had now found she was experiencing that high state of spiritual exaltation +which made life almost unbearably beautiful. The autumn day itself, warm +and glowing, was like a low fire on the hearth, toward which she stretched +her hands. But there was a spiritual fire within her which needed no +outward symbol; a flame that leaped and burned steadily. + +Far off she heard the chug of a motor--not the Ford now, but a big +touring-car that glistened in the sun. She knew that Gilbert would be +returning from Bisbee at just about this hour, and she could hardly wait to +see him turn in. + +"Here's your daddy, Pancho!" she cried, when the car swung from the road, +and Gilbert, hatless and sun-burned, leaped from the machine with all the +eagerness of a great healthy boy. + +He ran to his little family and kissed them both. "Gosh! but you look +lovely, Lucia, my dear!" he exclaimed, standing back a bit so that he could +have even a better view of her rosy cheeks, flashing eyes, and blowing +hair. "This autumn weather agrees with you, doesn't it? And Pancho--he +looks better than any baby around here--even Angela's." + +He dropped down on the seat beside her, and looked with rapture at the +child in her arms. + +"Sold ten head of cattle this morning, and Montrose says he'll take as many +more when I'm ready for him. Great, isn't it? 'Red' been over to-day?" + +"Yes," answered Lucia; "and he said he was going to bring Angela and +Panchita for an early supper. Says it's awful the way they've neglected us. +We haven't seen them for two whole days, you know!" + +They both laughed. + +"Well, of course old 'Red' has more to do now that Jasper Hardy's dead; but +after all, he can hire all the men he needs. Guess it's more a question of +his wanting to stay around Angy and the kid, don't you think so?" + +"He tries so hard to imitate you in everything. It makes me ache to see how +happy he is, Gil. Aren't they the cutest couple you ever saw? And won't it +be nice when Pancho and Panchita are old enough to play together?" + +"You bet!" Gilbert agreed. He looked off at the quiet mountains, steadfast +in their serenity, their crests seeming to kiss the sky. This _was_ God's +country, after all. Sometimes he could not believe that he had come so +gloriously into his own. In the slow process of putting his ranch on a +paying basis, after the turmoil of those weeks following the departure of +Lopez, he had had the sustaining wonder of Lucia always beside him; and +when little Pancho came upon the scene he felt that life was altogether too +kind to him. He had worked unremittingly; and not only had he had his own +affairs to absorb him, but "Red," after his marriage to Angela, was forever +ringing him up on the telephone, or coming over and asking his advice and +help. He was never too busy to throw out a word to his faithful friend; +indeed, they had reached a cooeperative basis so far as the two properties +were concerned, and the arrangement could not have worked out better. The +ranches touched each other, and after Jasper Hardy's death a year and a +half before, it seemed wise to form a sort of partnership. There was no +need of a written understanding; the two men simply said to each other that +they would do certain things, install certain improvements, and share +expenses and profits. Nothing on paper for them! No, siree, said "Red." He +wouldn't hear of it. And everything had been as amicable as possible. + +It was curious to see the change in Uncle Henry since the arrival of little +Pancho. Gilbert got him a brand-new wheel chair--sent all the way to +Phoenix for it--to celebrate the great event; and Uncle Henry loved +nothing better than to take the chap on his knee and give him a ride in the +courtyard whenever Lucia would trust him to his care. He never complained +now. He was deliriously happy, and with the new era of prosperity that had +struck the household, he was given a Mexican boy as his own personal +attendant, and he grew to take a kindly interest in him. He taught him to +read and write English. Thus busily occupied, and loving Lucia because she +loved his nephew so, his health improved, as well as his temper. He could +even tolerate "Red's" harmonica; in fact, he often begged him to play it +when the latter came over to midday dinner, and his legs had so improved +that he could actually jiggle them to some merry tune. + +"If you don't look out, you'll be dancin' soon!" "Red" used to say on these +happy occasions. "You can shimmy now!" + +"Shet your head!" Uncle Henry cried; but not angrily--not now. He laughed +when he said it, and was secretly flattered that anyone thought he had such +pep at his age and in his condition of semi-invalidism (for that is all it +could be called now). + +It was five o'clock when the Giddings family came. They used the faithful +little Ford for the short run; but they too had a big roadster, painted a +flaming red, "to match the master's hair," Mrs. Quinn put it. + +Angela, radiant in her motherhood, instantly compared notes with Lucia as +to infant symptoms--not that anything was the matter with either child; but +she loved to be ready for any emergency, and had a natural fear that +Panchita might be taken ill in the night sometime; and was everything in +her home medicine-chest, that should be? + +Uncle Henry begged to take both children on his lap; and, holding them +firmly, he made his boy push the chair here and there, got "Red" to play +the once detested harmonica, and had a gay time of it all around the ranch +house. + +"We'd better eat indoors this afternoon," Lucia said. "I was going to +spread the table under the pergola; but it may turn cooler." + +It was not long before they were all seated at an extended table in the big +living-room--that same room which had been the scene of tragedy and +suffering for them, but was now so filled with joy. + +"Mrs. Quinn sent over the cake," Lucia announced, as the table-boy brought +in a huge dish, on which was a chocolate cake of magnificent proportions. +It looked--and was--as light as a feather; a work of art to be proud of. + +"Just like her, eh?" said "Red." "What would we do without Mrs. Quinn, the +queen of 'em all!" + +"That's what I say," Uncle Henry declared. He could hardly wait to get to +the cake, for he knew what toothsome dainties the Irishwoman could cause to +emerge from her oven; and often she sent him this or that sweet, "just to +let 'im know she was livin' an' breathin'." + +Suddenly there came a sound of hoof beats on the road; and through the open +door, outlined against the flaming sunset, Gilbert could see two horsemen +approaching, with pointed hats, and glistening buttons. + +"Mexicans!" he cried. "What can they be doing here, now?" His mind rushed +back to that terrible evening so long ago when Lopez had ridden up to the +adobe, and changed the world for them all in almost the twinkling of an +eye. + +He got up from the table now, and "Red" followed him. Dusk was just +descending, but Gilbert's sharp eyes recognized the first horseman even in +the dimming light. + +"It's Pancho Lopez!" he cried. + +And sure enough, on a steed that looked like Sunday afternoon, with +brand-new reins and bit, and in a suit that fit him to perfection, with +gleaming spurs and shining buttons, the rakish and indomitable Pancho, his +long-lost friend, returned to greet him. He could scarcely believe it. For +since that memorable night when he had left them, to return to the interior +of Mexico, never a word had he had from him. Meantime, the great happiness +had come to him; and when the baby came into the world, he and Lucia had +not forgotten the man who had been responsible for their joy. With one +accord they named the boy Pancho. There was not the slightest doubt but +that should be what he should be called. The only tragedy was that they had +no way of letting the bandit know what they had done. Where was he? They +did not know. When, if ever, would he return? They had no way of finding +out. There was but one thing to do--wait. And they did. But often Gilbert +had said to Lucia, "He has forgotten us, though we have never forgotten +him--our friend." + +Now, in the quiet, brooding autumn dusk he came to their doorstep, +dismounted, lifted his hat, smiled that wonderful smile of his, and made a +bow that any courtier might have been proud to make. Behind him, on a brown +horse, was Pedro, his lieutenant--the same monosyllabic Pedro, faithful +unto death, and now as clean as a whistle. + +"Ah! my frand!" Pancho said, as he bowed again, "How glad am I to see you. +You glad to see me, too, eh?" + +Lucia also had come to the door; likewise Angela--but the latter was still +a bit timid. Even Uncle Henry pushed his way to the sill, and sat like a +lonely man in a gallery while those in the orchestra pressed about their +favorite actor. + +"Glad?" exclaimed Gilbert. "I could kiss you, Pancho! But where on earth +have you been? Come in, and tell us everything." + +He needed no urging. "Hongry as beeg bear!" he told them. + +"Then sit right down," Lucia said, "There's plenty--far more than the last +time you were here!" And they all laughed. + +He came into the room, while Pedro took care of the horses. + +"Hallo, Oncle Hennery," he greeted the old man in the wheel chair. "You +look splendid! And 'allo, 'Red,'--zat's what zey call you--yes?" Then he +saw the babies, and his eyes fairly popped from his head, "Well, well!" he +cried, "Who 'ave zese leetle fellers!" + +"They're not both fellers!" Angela made bold to say. "One's a girl--that +one! She's mine!" + +"Oh, ho! Leetle spitfire still!" Pancho laughed. He chucked her under her +pretty chin. "So you marry ze man I pick for you, eh? Good! An' +zis"--pointing to the baby--"zis ees better yet!" + +"Look at mine!" the proud Lucia couldn't help saying. "Isn't he the image +of his father?" + +She held him up, and Lopez took his little hand in his. "Yes, I see what +you mean," he said, carefully looking at the child. "Hees father's +eyes--but not so much hair! What you call heem?" + +"Guess!" said Gilbert. + +"Could not," the Mexican answered. + +"Only one guess!" Lucia begged. + +"Could not t'ink," Lopez insisted. + +"Well, then--you tell him, Gilbert," the mother said, turning to her +husband. + +"There could be only one name in all the world for that youngster," Gilbert +said, and put his hand affectionately on his old friend's shoulder. "You +ought to know it as well as I. Of course his name is--Pancho!" + +The smile that came over the Mexican's face was beautiful to see. And was +that the suggestion of a tear in his eye? + +Long and long, and while everybody in the room remained perfectly still, he +looked at the baby, whose tiny hands bobbed up and down--a fat, healthy +youngster, fit as a fiddle, laughing, squirming, happy. + +"For me you name him?" Lopez finally got out. "Oh, too good you are to me. +Pancho! my own leetle boy! Pancho! 'Some' name, what you say, eh?" + +And he pinched the child's cheek, tenderly as his mother would have done. + +"And here's mine!" Angela, not to be outdone, piped up, presenting her +child, also in her arms, to the delirious bandit. + +"An' what heez name?" + +"It ain't a he--it's a she, I told you!" Angela corrected. + +"Ah! All kinds you 'ave 'ere, eh? Good! An' what _'er_ name?" + +"Can't you guess?" asked "Red," coming forward, smiling. + +"A girl? What use I 'ave for girls?" laughed Pancho Lopez. "What you say +now--what's ze name?" + +"Why, Panchita! What else could we have named her?" Angela said. + +You could have knocked the Mexican down with a straw. This time he was +flabbergasted. + +"You all too fine, too tender, too good to me," he said; and there was a +softness in his speech that none of them had guessed could be there, save, +perhaps, Gilbert. + +"Oh, no," Jones said. "We wanted a little Mexican touch in our households. +And we've never forgotten you, old friend. Tell me, where have you been all +these months? We hoped to hear from you. But never a word or a sign from +you. Aren't you just a little ashamed of yourself now, when you see how +much we have been thinking of you?" + +Lopez hung his head. "Yes, my frand, I _am_ ashamed." Then he looked around +at all of them. "I love you very much. I dream of you often, an' I say to +myself. 'Some day I go back there, an' see my old frands which I make so +'appy.' But I bandit no more, an' travel I hate in trains. I reform. I +settle down in Mexico City. I 'ave baby too, an' good wife, good mother. +But I get 'omesick, 'ow you say, for you all, an' so I come down for what +you call 'oliday, an'--'ere I am! You 'ave made me very 'appy to-night. I +love you all even more seence I see zese cheeldrens. _Madre Dio!_ How fine +to 'ave cheeldren!" + +"Ain't we ever goin' to finish our supper?" Uncle Henry wanted to know; but +his tone was not querulous; it was plaintively sweet, and it held a note of +invitation for everyone. + +Laughing, they all sat down, but not before Pedro had been asked in. The +frightened cook--the same who had been drunk that fatal evening when Pancho +first arrived--scurried here and there, eager to serve the distinguished +guest. + +"You all right!" Lopez told him. "Never fear, so long as you bring me good +'ot coffee!" + +And, happy as the babies, they all fell to; and it was Pancho himself who +was asked to cut Mrs. Quinn's big cake. + +"First time I use a knife in long while!" he laughed, as he stood up to the +job. "Now we all eat much; an' mebbe give some to leetle Pancho and +Panchita too, eh?" + + +THE END + + + + * * * * * + + + +A Selection from the Catalogue of + +G.P. PUTNAM'S SONS + +Complete Catalogues sent on application + + * * * * * + +THE STRANGENESS OF NOEL CARTON + +By + +WILLIAM CAINE + + +Noel Carton, driven to desperation by his vulgar little wife who, in buying +his position, is forced to accept him with it, determines to bury himself +in the writing of a novel, in the vain hope of forgetting. At the same time +he elects to keep a secret journal. In his novel he subconsciously draws +the portraits of the living people surrounding him. + +How this novel becomes inextricably entangled with his own journal is the +basis for this extraordinarily original story which leads to an astounding +climax. + +G.P. PUTNAM'S SONS + +New York London + + * * * * * + +The Night Horseman + +A Tale of Wild-riding Herdsmen and Outlaws, and their Deeds of Daring and +Deviltry + +By + +Max Brand + + +A well-known English critic said of _The Untamed_--"There are in it +passages of extraordinary power--the whole conception is very bold." And no +less bold nor less powerful is its sequel _The Night Horseman_. Once again +we ride in company with "Whistlin' Dan," the fearless, silent, mysterious +chap who shares the instincts of wild things, and once again we engage with +him in his desperate adventures, hair-breadth escapes, and whirlwind +triumphs. A novel thrilling in its reality, which will not be put down by +lovers of exciting fiction. + +G.P. Putnam's Sons + +New York London + + * * * * * + +WITHOUT MERCY + +BY + +JOHN GOODWIN + + +Mrs. Garth, a genius of finance, a personage in the social world, and head +of a great banking firm, is determined that her beautiful daughter shall +not marry Sir Melmoth Craven, of the sinister Sternberg Syndicate. He, +equally determined, and humiliated, plans revenge, not suspecting that Mrs. +Garth, under another name, heads Gordon's, Ltd., a notorious and powerful +money-lending establishment. A story full of thrilling situations and +exciting incidents. + +G.P. PUTNAM'S SONS + +New York London + + * * * * * + +The Door of the Unreal + +By + +Gerald Biss + +12. Full Novel Size + + +A story of the Werewolves, made wonderfully credible and told with great +skill and feeling. This is far from being an ordinary detective novel. Mr. +Biss is on brand new ground and will puzzle every reader till the mystery +is at last solved by the right man--the mystery of the baffling murders on +the Brighton road. + + +G.P. Putnam's Sons + +New York London + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BAD MAN*** + + +******* This file should be named 16968.txt or 16968.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/9/6/16968 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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