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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 02:48:02 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 02:48:02 -0700 |
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diff --git a/29694-h/29694-h.htm b/29694-h/29694-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fd4e3cf --- /dev/null +++ b/29694-h/29694-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,12237 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Treasure Trail, by Marah Ellis Ryan.</title> + +<style type="text/css"> + @media screen { + hr.pb {margin:30px 0; width:100%; border:none;border-top:thin dashed silver;} + .pagenum {display: inline; font-size: x-small; text-align: right; text-indent: 0; position: absolute; right: 2%; padding: 1px 3px; font-style: normal; font-variant:normal; font-weight:normal; text-decoration: none; background-color: inherit; border:1px solid #eee;} + .pncolor {color: silver;} + } + @media print { + hr.pb {border:none;page-break-after: always;} + .pagenum { display:none; } + } + body {margin-left: 11%; margin-right: 10%;} + p {margin-top: 0.5em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: 0.5em;} + + blockquote {display: block; margin: .75em 5%; font-size: 90%;} + h1 {font-size:1.4em;} + h1,h2,h3 {text-align:center; font-weight:normal;} + h2 {font-size:1.2em;} + h3 {font-size:1.0em;} + hr.p10 {border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; width: 10%;} + p.tp {font-size:1em; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; text-align:center;} + + .caption {font-size: 90%; text-align:center;} + .chsp {margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em;} + .figcenter {margin: 2em auto 2em auto; text-align: center; width: auto;} + .figtag {height: 1px;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + a {text-decoration: none;} + hr.tb {border: none; border-bottom:1px solid black; width: 33%; margin-top: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;} + hr.toprule {width: 65%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid silver; clear:both;} + p.cg {margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0; text-align: left; width: 101%;} + p.lalign {text-align: left !important;} + p.ralign {text-align: right !important;} + span.indent2 {margin: 0; padding:0; text-indent:0; width: 0.8em; display: block; float: left;} + span.indent4 {margin: 0; padding:0; text-indent:0; width: 1.6em; display: block; float: left;} + span.indent6 {margin: 0; padding:0; text-indent:0; width: 2.4em; display: block; float: left;} + span.rindent11 {margin: 0; padding:0; text-indent:0; width: 4.4em; display: block; float: right;} + span.rindent2 {margin: 0; padding:0; text-indent:0; width: 0.8em; display: block; float: right;} + span.rindent4 {margin: 0; padding:0; text-indent:0; width: 1.6em; display: block; float: right;} + span.rindent6 {margin: 0; padding:0; text-indent:0; width: 2.4em; display: block; float: right;} + span.rindent8 {margin: 0; padding:0; text-indent:0; width: 3.2em; display: block; float: right;} + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; clear: both;} + td.chalgn {text-align:right; margin-top:0; padding-right:1em;} +</style> + +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Treasure Trail, by Marah Ellis Ryan + +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 Treasure Trail + A Romance of the Land of Gold and Sunshine + +Author: Marah Ellis Ryan + +Illustrator: Robert Amick + +Release Date: August 15, 2009 [EBook #29694] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TREASURE TRAIL *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class='figtag'> +<a name='linki_1' id='linki_1'></a> +</div> +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/illus-fpc.jpg' alt='' title='' width='374' height='577' /><br /> +<p class='caption'> +“I’ll hit any trail with you––barring Mexican politics.” [Page 19]<br /> +</p> +</div> +<hr class='pb' /> +<table style="background-image:url('images/img-title.png'); width:408px; height:608px; margin:auto;" summary="title page"> +<tr><td> +<p class='tp' style='margin-top:20px;margin-bottom:20px;'><span style='font-size:2.4em;margin-top:20px;font-style:italic;'>The</span><br /> +<span style='font-size:2.8em;margin-bottom:20px;'>Treasure Trail</span></p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.6em;margin-bottom:40px;'><i>A Romance of the Land of<br />Gold and Sunshine</i></p> +<p class='tp' style='margin-bottom:5px;'>By</p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.4em;'>MARAH ELLIS RYAN</p> +<div style='margin:40px auto; text-align:center;'> +<img alt='emblem' src='images/illus-emb.jpg' /> +</div> +<p class='tp' style='margin-bottom:40px;font-size:larger;'><i>Illustrated<br />By Robert Amick</i></p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.4em;font-variant:small-caps;'>Publishers Chicago</p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.6em;'>A. C. McCLURG & CO.</p> +<p class='tp' >1918</p> +</td></tr></table> +<hr class='pb' /> +<p class='tp' style='margin-top:40px;'>Copyright<br />A. C. McCLURG & CO.<br />1918</p> +<hr class='p10' /> +<p class='tp' >Published November, 1918</p> +<hr class='p10' /> +<p class='tp' style='margin-bottom:40px;'><i>Copyrighted in Great Britain</i></p> +<hr class='pb' /> +<p class='tp' style='margin-top:40px;'><i>To</i></p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:smaller;'><i>Kalatoka</i></p> +<p class='tp' style='margin-bottom:40px;'><i>of the brown tent</i></p> +<hr class='pb' /> +<h3>CONTENTS</h3> +<table border='0' cellpadding='2' cellspacing='0' summary='Contents' style='margin:1em auto;'> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'><span style='font-size:0.8em'>CHAPTER</span></td> + <td /> + <td valign='top' align='right'><span style='font-size:0.8em'>PAGE</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>I</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>KIT AND THE GIRL OF THE LARK CALL</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_I_KIT_AND_THE_GIRL_OF_THE_LARK_CALL'>1</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>II</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>THE RED GOLD LEGEND</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_II_THE_RED_GOLD_LEGEND'>15</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>III</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>A VERIFIED PROPHECY OF SEÑORITA BILLIE</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_III_A_VERIFIED_PROPHECY_OF_SEORITA_BILLIE'>54</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>IV</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>IN THE ADOBE OF PEDRO VIJIL</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_IV_IN_THE_ADOBE_OF_PEDRO_VIJIL'>66</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>V</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>AN “ADIOS”––AND AFTER</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_V_AN_ADIOSAND_AFTER'>73</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>VI</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>A DEAD MAN UNDER THE COTTONWOODS</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_VI_A_DEAD_MAN_UNDER_THE_COTTONWOODS'>90</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>VII</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>IN THE PROVINCE OF ALTAR</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_VII_IN_THE_PROVINCE_OF_ALTAR'>107</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>VIII</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>THE SLAVE TRAIL</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_VIII_THE_SLAVE_TRAIL'>124</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>IX</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>A MEETING AT YAQUI WELL</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_IX_A_MEETING_AT_YAQUI_WELL'>133</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>X</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>A MEXICAN EAGLET</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_X_A_MEXICAN_EAGLET'>144</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XI</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>GLOOM OF BILLIE</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XI_GLOOM_OF_BILLIE'>161</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XII</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>COVERING THE TRAIL</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XII_COVERING_THE_TRAIL'>167</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XIII</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>A WOMAN OF EMERALD EYES</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XIII_A_WOMAN_OF_EMERALD_EYES'>186</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XIV</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>THE HAWK OF THE SIERRAS</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XIV_THE_HAWK_OF_THE_SIERRAS'>217</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XV</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>THE “JUDAS” PRAYER AT MESA BLANCA</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XV_THE_JUDAS_PRAYER_AT_MESA_BLANCA'>230</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XVI</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>THE SECRET OF SOLEDAD CHAPEL</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XVI_THE_SECRET_OF_SOLEDAD_CHAPEL'>256</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XVII</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>THE STORY OF DOÑA JOCASTA</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XVII_THE_STORY_OF_DOA_JOCASTA'>288</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XVIII</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>RAMON ROTIL DECIDES</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XVIII_RAMON_ROTIL_DECIDES'>300</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XIX</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>THE RETURN OF TULA</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XIX_THE_RETURN_OF_TULA'>328</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XX</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>EAGLE AND SERPENT</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XX_EAGLE_AND_SERPENT'>346</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XXI</td> + <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>EACH TO HIS OWN</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#CHAPTER_XXI_EACH_TO_HIS_OWN'>360</a></td> +</tr> +</table> +<hr class='pb' /> +<h3>ILLUSTRATIONS</h3> +<table border='0' cellpadding='2' cellspacing='0' summary='Illustrations' style='margin:1em auto;'> +<col style='width:75%;' /> +<col style='width:25%;' /> +<tr> + <td /> + <td valign='top' align='right'>PAGE</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'>“I’ll hit any trail with you––barring Mexican politics.”</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_1'><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'>“You poor kid, you have a hard time with the disreputables you pick up.”</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_2'>76</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'>“No, Ramon! No!” she cried, and flung herself between him and his victims.</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_3'>280</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'>The Indian girl was steadily gaining on the German.</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_4'>356</a></td> +</tr> +</table> +<hr class='pb' /> +<h1>The Treasure Trail</h1> +<div class='chsp' style='padding-top:0'> +<a name='CHAPTER_I_KIT_AND_THE_GIRL_OF_THE_LARK_CALL' id='CHAPTER_I_KIT_AND_THE_GIRL_OF_THE_LARK_CALL'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> +<h3>KIT AND THE GIRL OF THE LARK CALL</h3> +</div> +<p>In the shade of Pedro Vijil’s little brown adobe on +the Granados rancho, a horseman squatted to repair +a broken cinch with strips of rawhide, while his horse––a +strong dappled roan with a smutty face––stood near, +the rawhide bridle over his head and the quirt trailing +the ground.</p> +<p>The horseman’s frame of mind was evidently not of +the sweetest, for to Vijil he had expressed himself in +forcible Mexican––which is supposed to be Spanish and +often isn’t––condemning the luck by which the cinch +had gone bad at the wrong time, and as he tinkered he +sang softly an old southern ditty:</p> +<table summary=''><tr><td> +<p class='cg'><i>Oh––oh! I’m a good old rebel,<br /> +<span class='indent2'> </span>Now that’s just what I am!<br /> +For I won’t be reconstructed<br /> +<span class='indent2'> </span>And I don’t care a damn!</i></p> +</td></tr></table> +<p>He varied this musical gem occasionally by whistling +the air as he punched holes and wove the rawhide thongs +in and out through the spliced leather.</p> +<p>Once he halted in the midst of a strain and lifted his +head, listening. Something like an echo of his own notes +sounded very close, a mere shadow of a whistle.</p> +<p>Directly over his head was a window, unglazed and +wooden barred. A fat brown olla, dripping moisture, +almost filled the deep window sill, but the interior was +all in shadow. Its one door was closed. The Vijil family +was scattered around in the open, most of them under +the <i>ramada</i>, and after a frowning moment of mystification +the young fellow resumed his task, but in silence.</p> +<p>Then, after a still minute, more than the whisper of +a whistle came to him––the subdued sweet call of a +meadow lark. It was so sweet it might have been mate +to any he had heard on the range that morning.</p> +<p>Only an instant he hesitated, then with equal care he +gave the duplicate call, and held his breath to listen––not +a sound came back.</p> +<p>“We’ve gone loco, Pardner,” he observed to the +smutty-faced roan moving near him. “That jolt from +the bay outlaw this morning has jingled my brain pans––we +don’t hear birds call us––we only think we do.”</p> +<p>If he had even looked at Pardner he might have been +given a sign, for the roan had lifted its head and was +staring into the shadows back of the sweating olla.</p> +<p>“Hi, you caballero!”</p> +<p>The words were too clear to be mistaken, the “caballero” +stared across to the only people in sight. There +was Pedro Vijil sharpening an axe, while Merced, his +wife, turned the creaking grindstone for him. The young +olive branches of the Vijil family were having fun with +a horned toad under the <i>ramada</i> where gourd vines +twisted about an ancient grape, and red peppers hung in +a gorgeous splash of color. Between that and the blue +haze of the far mountains there was no sign of humanity +to account for such cheery youthful Americanism as the +tone suggested.</p> +<p>“Hi, yourself!” he retorted, “whose ghost are you?”</p> +<p>There was a giggle from the barred window of the +adobe.</p> +<p>“I don’t dare say because I am not respectable just +now,” replied the voice. “I fell in the ditch and have +nothing on but the Sunday shirt of Pedro. I am the +funniest looking thing! wish I dared ride home in it to +shock them all silly.”</p> +<p>“Why not?” he asked, and again the girlish laugh +gave him an odd thrill of comradeship.</p> +<p>“A good enough reason; they’d take Pat from me, +and say he wasn’t safe to ride––but he is! My tumble +was my own fault for letting them put on that fool English +saddle. Never again for me!”</p> +<p>“They are all right for old folks and a pacing pony,” +he observed, and again he heard the bubbling laugh.</p> +<p>“Well, Pat is not a pacing pony, not by a long shot; +and I’m not old folks––yet!” Then after a little silence, +“Haven’t you any curiosity?”</p> +<p>“I reckon there’s none allowed me on this count,” he +replied without lifting his head, “between the wooden +bars and Pedro’s shirt you certainly put the fences up +on me.”</p> +<p>“I’m a damsel in distress waiting for a rescuing knight +with a white banner and a milk-white steed––” went on +the laughing voice in stilted declamation.</p> +<p>“Sorry, friend, but my cayuse is a roan, and I never +carried a white flag yet. You pick the wrong colors.”</p> +<p>Whereupon he began the chanting of a war song, with +an eye stealthily on the barred window.</p> +<table summary=''><tr><td> +<p class='cg'><i>Hurrah! Hurrah! For southern rights, hurrah!<br /> +Hurrah for the bonnie blue flag<br /> +That bears the single star!</i></p> +</td></tr></table> +<p>“Oh! <i>I</i> know that!” the voice was now a hail of recognition. +“Cap Pike always sings that when he’s a little +‘how-came-ye-so’––and <i>you’re</i> a Johnny Reb!”</p> +<p>“Um! twice removed,” assented the man by the wall, +“and you are a raiding Yank who has been landed in +one of our fortresses with only one shirt to her back, +and that one borrowed.”</p> +<p>He had a momentary vision of two laughing gray +eyes beside the olla, and the girl behind the bars laughed +until Merced let the grindstone halt while she cast a +glance towards the house as if in doubt as to whether +three feet of adobe wall and stout bars could serve +instead of a dueña to foolish young Americans who +chattered according to their foolishness.</p> +<p>There was an interval of silence, and then the girlish +voice called again.</p> +<p>“Hi, Johnny Reb!”</p> +<p>“Same to you, Miss Yank.”</p> +<p>“Aren’t you the new Americano from California, for +the La Partida rancho?”</p> +<p>“Even so, O wise one of the borrowed garment.” The +laugh came to him again.</p> +<p>“Why don’t you ask how I know?” she demanded.</p> +<p>“It is borne in upon me that you are a witch of the +desert, or the ghost of a dream, that you see through the +adobe wall, and my equally thick skull. Far be it for +me to doubt that the gift of second sight is yours, O +seventh daughter of a seventh daughter!”</p> +<p>“No such thing! I’m the only one!” came the quick +retort, and the young chap in the shade of the adobe +shook with silent mirth.</p> +<p>“I see you laughing, Mr. Johnny Reb, you think you +caught me that time. But you just halt and listen to +me, I’ve a hunch and I’m going to prophesy.”</p> +<p>“I knew you had the gift of second sight!”</p> +<p>“Maybe you won’t believe me, but the hunch is that +you––won’t––hold––the job on these ranches!”</p> +<p>“What!” and he turned square around facing the window, +then laughed. “That’s the way you mean to get +even for the ‘seventh daughter’ guess is it? You think +I can’t handle horses?”</p> +<p>“Nix,” was the inelegant reply, “I know you can, for +I saw you handle that bay outlaw they ran in on you this +morning: seven years old and no wrangler in Pima could +ride him. Old Cap Pike said it was a damn shame to +put you up against that sun-fisher as an introduction to +Granados.”</p> +<p>“Oh! Pike did, did he? Nice and sympathetic of Pike. +I reckon he’s the old-time ranger I heard about out at +the Junction, reading a red-fire riot to some native sons +who were not keen for the cactus trail of the Villistas. +That old captain must be a live wire, but he thinks I can’t +stick?”</p> +<p>“No-o, that wasn’t Cap Pike, that was my own +hunch. Say, are you married?”</p> +<p>“O señorita! this is so sudden!” he spoke in shy +reproof, twisting his neckerchief in mock embarrassment, +and again Merced looked toward the house because +of peals of laughter there.</p> +<p>“You are certainly funny when you do that,” she said +after her laughter had quieted down to giggles, “but I +wasn’t joking, honest Indian I wasn’t! But how did you +come to strike Granados?”</p> +<p>“Me? Well, I ranged over from California to sell a +patch of ground I owned in Yuma. Then I hiked over +to Nogales on a little <i>pasear</i> and offered to pack a gun +and wear a uniform for this Mexican squabble, and the +powers that be turned me down because one of my eyes +could see farther than the other––that’s no joke––it’s +a calamity! I spent all the <i>dinero</i> I had recovering from +the shock, and about the time I was getting my sympathetic +friends sobered up, Singleton, of Granados, saw us +trying out some raw cavalry stock, and bid for my valuable +services and I rode over. Any other little detail +you’d like to know?”</p> +<p>“N-no, only needed to know it wasn’t Conrad the +manager hired you, and I asked if you were married because +married men need the work more than single strays. +Adolf Conrad got rid of two good American men lately, +and fetches over Mexicans from away down Hermosillo +way.”</p> +<p>“’Cause why?” asked the man who had ceased pretense +of mending the saddle, and was standing with back +against the adobe.</p> +<p>“’Cause I don’t know,” came petulant response. “I +only had the hunch when I saw you tame that outlaw in +the corral. If he pulls wires to lose <i>you</i>, I’ll stop guessing; +I’ll know!”</p> +<p>“Very interesting, señorita,” agreed the stranger reflectively. +“But if I have a good job, I can’t see how it +will give me aid or comfort to know that you’ve acquired +knowledge, and stopped guessing. When’s your time up +behind the bars?”</p> +<p>“Whenever my clothes get dry enough to fool the dear +home folks.”</p> +<p>“You must be a joy to the bosom of your family,” +he observed, “also a blessing.”</p> +<p>He heard again the girlish laughter and concluded she +could not be over sixteen. There was silence for a space +while only the creak of the grindstone cut the stillness. +Whoever she was, she had given him a brief illuminating +vision of the tactics of Conrad, the manager for the +ranches of Granados and La Partida, the latter being the +Sonora end of the old Spanish land grant. Even a girl +had noted that the rough work had been turned over to +a new American from the first circle of the <i>rodeo</i>. He +stood there staring out across the sage green to the far +purple hills of the Green Springs range.</p> +<p>“You’ve fixed that cinch, what you waiting for?” +asked the voice at last, and the young fellow straightened +up and lifted the saddle.</p> +<p>“That’s so,” he acknowledged. “But as you whistled +to me and the call seemed friendly, it was up to me to +halt for orders––from the lady in distress.”</p> +<p>Again he heard the soft laughter and the voice.</p> +<p>“Glad you liked the friendly call, Johnny Reb,” she +confessed. “That’s my call. If ever you hear it where +there are no larks, you’ll know who it is.”</p> +<p>“Sure,” he agreed, yanking at the cinch, “and I’ll come +a lopin’ with the bonnie blue flag, to give aid and succor +to the enemy.”</p> +<p>“You will not!” she retorted. “You’ll just whistle +back friendly, and be chums. I think my clothes are dry +now, and you’d better travel. If you meet anyone looking +for a stray maverick, you haven’t seen me.”</p> +<p>“Just as you say. <i>Adios!</i>”</p> +<p>After he had mounted and passed along the corral to +the road, he turned in the saddle and looked back. He +could see no one in the window of the bars, but there came +to him clear and sweet the field bugle of the meadow +lark.</p> +<p>He answered it, lifted his sombrero and rode soberly +towards the Granados corrals, three miles across the +valley. Queer little trick she must be. American girls +did not usually ride abroad alone along the border, and +certainly did not chum with the Mexicans to the extent +of borrowing shirts. Then as he lifted the bridle and +Pardner broke into a lope, he noted an elderly horseman +jogging along across trail on a little mule. Each eyed +the other appraisingly.</p> +<p>“Hello, Bub!” hailed the older man. “My name’s +Pike, and you’re the new man from California, hey? +Glad to meet you. Hear your name’s Rhodes.”</p> +<p>“I reckon you heard right,” agreed the young chap. +“K. Rhodes at your service, sir.”</p> +<p>“Hello! K? K? Does that K stand for Kit?”</p> +<p>“Center shot for you,” assented the other.</p> +<p>“From Tennessee?”</p> +<p>“Now you’re a sort of family historian, I reckon, Mr. +Pike,” suggested K. Rhodes. “What’s the excitement?”</p> +<p>“Why you young plantation stray!” and the older +man reached for his hand and made use of it pump-handle +fashion with a sort of sputtering glee. “Great +guns, boy! there was just one K. Rhodes a-top of God’s +green earth and we were pardners here in Crook’s day. +Hurrah for us! Are you cousin, son, or nephew?”</p> +<p>“My grandfather was with Crook.”</p> +<p>“Sure! I knew it soon as I laid eyes on you and heard +your name; that was in the corral with the outlaw Conrad +had driven in for you to work, it wa’n’t a square deal +to a white man. I was cussin’ mad.”</p> +<p>“So I heard,” and the blue eyes of the other smiled +at the memory of the girl’s glib repetition of his discourse. +“What’s the great idea? Aside from the fact +that he belongs to the white dove, anti-military bunch +of sisters, Singleton seems quite white, a nice chap.”</p> +<p>“Yeh, but he’s noways wise at that. He sort of married +into the horse game here, wasn’t bred to it. Just +knows enough to not try to run it solo. Now this Dolf +Conrad does know horses and the horse market, and +Granados rancho. He’s shipped more cavalry stock to +France than any other outfit in this region. Yes, Conrad +knows the business end of the game, but even at that he +might not assay as high grade ore. He is mixed up with +them too-proud-to-fight clique organized by old maids of +both sexes, and to show that he is above all prejudice, +political or otherwise, he sure is corraling an extra lot +of Mex help this year. I’ve <i>companeros</i> +I’d go through +hell for, but Conrad’s breed––well, enough said, Bub, +but they’re different!” Mr. Pike bit off a chew of black +plug, and shook his head ruminatively.</p> +<p>Rhodes looked the old man over as they rode along +side by side. He was lean, wiry and probably sixty-five. +His hair, worn long, gave him the look of the old-time +ranger. He carried no <i>reata</i> and did not look like a +ranchman. He had the southern intonation, and his eyes +were wonderfully young for the almost snowy hair.</p> +<p>“Belong in the valley, Captain?”</p> +<p>“Belong? Me belong anywhere? Not yet, son,” and +he smiled at his own fancy. “Not but what it’s a good +enough corner when a man reaches the settlin’ down age. +I drift back every so often. This ranch was Fred Bernard’s, +and him and me flocked together for quite a spell. +Singleton married Bernard’s widow––she’s dead now +these seven years. I just drift back every so often to keep +track of Bernard’s kid, Billie.”</p> +<p>“I see. Glad to have met you, Captain. Hope we can +ride together often enough for me to hear about the old +Apache days. This land has fetched out three generations +of us, so it surely has some pull! My father came +at the end of his race, but I’ve come in time to grow up +with the country.”</p> +<p>Captain Pike looked at him and chuckled. K. Rhodes +was about twenty-three, tall, almost boyish in figure, but +his shoulders and hands suggested strength, and his mouth +had little dents of humor at the corners to mitigate the +squareness of jaw and the heavy dark brows. His black +lashes made the deep blue of his eyes look purple. Young +he was, but with a stature and self-reliant manner as witness +of the fact that he was fairly grown up already.</p> +<p>“Where’d you learn horses, Bub?”</p> +<p>“Tennessee stock farm, and southern California +ranges. Then this neck of the woods seemed calling me, +and I trailed over to look after a bit of land in Yuma. +I wasted some time trying to break into the army, but they +found some eye defect that I don’t know anything about––and +don’t more than half believe! I had some dandy +prospecting plans after that, but there was no jingling in +my pockets––no outfit money, so I hailed Singleton as an +angel monoplaned down with the ducats. Yes sir, I had +all the dream survey made for a try at some gold trails +down here, going to take it up where the rest of the +family quit.”</p> +<p>“You mean that, boy?” The old man halted his mule, +and spat out the tobacco, staring at Rhodes in eager +anticipation.</p> +<p>“I sure do. Reckon I’ve inherited the fever, and can’t +settle down to any other thing until I’ve had one try at it. +Did do a little placer working in the San Jacinto.”</p> +<p>“And you’re broke?” Mr. Pike’s voice betrayed a +keen joy in the prospect.</p> +<p>“Flat,” stated K. Rhodes, eyeing the old gentleman +suspiciously, “my horse, saddle, field glass, and gun are +the only belongings in sight.”</p> +<p>“Ki-yi!” chirruped his new acquaintance gleefully, +“I knew when I got out of the blankets this morning I +was to have good luck of some sort, had a ‘hunch.’ You +can bet on me, Bub; you’ve struck the right rail, and I’m +your friend, your desert <i>companero</i>!”</p> +<p>“Yes, you sound real nice and friendly,” agreed K. +Rhodes. “So glad I’m flat broke that you’re having +hysterics over it. Typical southern hospitality. Hearty +welcome to our city, and so forth, and so forth!”</p> +<p>The old man grinned at him appreciatively. “Lord +boy!––I reckon I’ve been waiting around for you about +ten year, though I didn’t know what your name would +be when you come, and it couldn’t be a better one! We’ll +outfit first for the Three Hills of Gold in the desert, and +if luck is against us there we’ll strike down into Sonora +to have a try after the red gold of El Alisal. I’ve covered +some of that ground, but never had a pardner who would +stick. They’d beat it because of either the Mexicans or +the Indians, but <i>you</i>––say boy! It’s the greatest game +in the world and we’ll go to it!”</p> +<p>His young eyes sparkled in his weathered desert face, +and more than ten years were cast aside in his enthusiasm. +K. Rhodes looked at him askance.</p> +<p>“If I did not have a key to your sane and calm outlining +of prospects for the future, I might suspect loco +weed or some other dope,” he observed. “But the fact +is you must have known that my grandfather in his day +went on the trail of the Three Hills of Gold, and left +about a dozen different plans on paper for future trips.”</p> +<p>“Know it? Why boy, I went in with him!” shrilled +Captain Pike. “Know it? Why, we crawled out half +starved, and dried out as a couple of last year’s gourds. +We dug roots and were chewing our own boot tops when +the Indians found us. Sure, I know it. He went East to +raise money for a bigger outfit, but never got back––died +there.”</p> +<p>“Yes, then my father gathered up all the plans and +specifications and came out with a friend about fifteen +years ago,” added Rhodes. “They never got anywhere, +but he sort of worked the fever off, bought some land +and hit the trail back home. So I’ve been fairly well fed +up on your sort of dope, Captain, and when I’ve mended +that gone feeling in my pocketbook I may ‘call’ you on +the gold trail proposition. Even if you’re bluffing there’ll +be no come back; I can listen to a lot of ‘lost mine’ +vagaries. It sounds like home sweet home to me!”</p> +<p>“Bluff nothing! we’ll start next week.”</p> +<p>“No we won’t, I’ve got a job and made a promise, +got to help clean up the work here for the winter. Promised +to take the next load of horses East.”</p> +<p>“That’s a new one,” observed his new friend. “Conrad +himself has always gone East with the horses, or sent +Brehmen, his secretary. But never mind, Bub, the eastern +trip won’t take long. I’ll be devilin’ around getting our +outfit and when the chance comes––us for the Three +Hills of Gold!”</p> +<p>“It listens well,” agreed K. Rhodes, “cheeriest little +<i>pasear</i> I’ve struck in the county. We’ll have some great +old powwows, even if we don’t make a cent, and some +day you’ll tell me about the mental kinks in the makeup +of our Prussian friend, Conrad. He sounds interesting +to me.”</p> +<p>Captain Pike uttered a profane and lurid word or two +concerning Mr. Conrad, and stated he’d be glad when +Billie was of age. Singleton, and therefore Conrad, +would only have the management up to that time. Billie +would know horses if nothing else, and––Then he interrupted +himself and stared back the way he had come.</p> +<p>“I’m a forgetful old fool!” he stated with conviction. +“I meandered out to take a look around for her, and I +didn’t like the looks of that little dab of a saddle Conrad +had put on Pat. You didn’t see anything of her, did +you?”</p> +<p>“What does she look like?”</p> +<p>“A slip of a girl who rides like an Indian, rides a +black horse.”</p> +<p>“No, I’ve seen no one,” said the young chap truthfully +enough. “But who did you say your girl was?”</p> +<p>“You’ll find out if you hold your job long enough for +her to be of age,” said Pike darkly. “She’ll be your +boss instead of Conrad. It’s Billie Bernard, the owner of +Granados and La Partida.”</p> +<p>“Billie?”</p> +<p>“Miss Wilfreda, if you like it better.”</p> +<p>But K. Rhodes said he didn’t. Billie seemed to fit the +sort of girl who would garb herself in Pedro’s shirt and +whistle at him through the bars of the little window.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_II_THE_RED_GOLD_LEGEND' id='CHAPTER_II_THE_RED_GOLD_LEGEND'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER II</h2> +<h3>THE RED GOLD LEGEND</h3> +</div> +<p>It took less than a week for Kit Rhodes to conclude +that the girl behind the bars had a true inspiration +regarding his own position on her ranches. There was +no open hostility to him, yet it was evident that difficulties +were cleverly put in his way.</p> +<p>Not by Philip Singleton, the colorless, kindly disposed +gentleman of Pike’s description. But by various intangible +methods, he was made to feel an outsider by the +manager, Conrad, and his more confidential Mexican assistants. +They were punctiliously polite, too polite for a +horse-ranch outfit. Yet again and again a group of them +fell silent when he joined them, and as his work was +with the horse herds of La Partida, that part of the great +grant which spread over the border into Sonora, he was +often camped fifty miles south of the hacienda of Granados, +and saw no more of either the old prospector, or the +tantalizing girl of the voice and the whistle.</p> +<p>Conrad, however, motored down two or three times +concerning horses for eastern shipment, but Rhodes, the +new range capitan, puzzled considerably over those flying +visits, for, after the long drive through sand and alkali, +the attention he gave either herds or outfit was negligible. +In fact he scarcely touched at the camp, yet always did +some trifling official act coming or going to make record +that he had been there.</p> +<p>The Mexicans called him El Aoura, the buzzard, because +no man could tell when he would swoop over even +the farthest range of La Partida to catch them napping. +Yet there was some sort of curious bond between them +for there were times when Conrad came north as from +a long southern trail, yet the Mexicans were as dumb +men if it was referred to.</p> +<p>He was a compactly built, fair man of less than forty, +with thin reddish brown hair, brows slanting downward +from the base of the nose, and a profile of that curious +Teuton type reminiscent of a supercilious hound if one +could imagine such an animal with milk-blue eyes and +a yellow mustache with spiky turned-up ends.</p> +<p>But Rhodes did not permit any antipathy he might feel +towards the man to interfere with his own duties, and +he went stolidly about the range work as if in utter forgetfulness +of the dark prophecy of the girl.</p> +<p>If he was to lose his new job he did not mean that it +should be from inattention, and nothing was too trifling +for his notice. He would do the work of a range boss +twelve hours out of the day, and then put in extra time +on a night ride to the <i>cantina</i> at the south wells of La +Partida.</p> +<p>But as the work moved north and the consignment of +horses for France made practically complete, old Cap Pike +rode down to Granados corrals, and after contemplation +of the various activities of Rhodes, climbed up on the +corral fence beside him, where the latter was checking +off the accepted animals.</p> +<p>“You’re a cheerful idiot for work, Bub,” agreed the +old man, “but what the devil do you gain by doing so +much of the other fellow’s job? Pancho Martinez wasn’t +sick as he played off on you; you’re green to these Mexican +tricks.”</p> +<p>“Sure, I’m the original Green from Greenburg,” assented +his new <i>companero</i>. “Pancho was only more than +usually drunk last night, while I was fresh as a daisy and +eager to enlarge my geographic knowledge, also my linguistics, +Hi! Pedro! not the sorrel mare! Cut her out!”</p> +<p>“Linguistics?” repeated Pike impatiently.</p> +<p>“Yeh, nice little woman in the cantina at La Partida +wells. I am a willing pupil at Spanish love songs, and we +get along fine. I am already a howling success at <i>La +Paloma</i>, <i>La Golondrina</i>, and a few other sentimental +birds.”</p> +<p>“Oh, you are, are you?” queried Pike. “Well, take +a warning. You’ll get a knife in your back from her +man one of these fine nights, and the song will be <i>Adios, +adios amores</i> for you!”</p> +<p>“Nothing doing, Cap! We play <i>malilla</i> for the drinks, +and I work it so that he beats me two out of three. I’m +so easy I’m not worth watching. Women don’t fancy +fools, so I’m safe.”</p> +<p>“Well, I’ll be ‘strafed’ by the Dutch!” Pike stared at +the young fellow, frowning in perplexity. “You sure +have me puzzled, Bub. Are you a hopeless dunce by +training or nature?”</p> +<p>“Natural product,” grinned K. Rhodes cheerfully. +“Beauty unadorned. Say Cap, tell me something. What +is the attraction for friend Conrad south of La Partida? +I seem to run against a stone wall when I try to feel out +the natives on that point. Now just what lies south, and +whose territory?”</p> +<p>The old man looked at him with a new keenness.</p> +<p>“For your sort of an idiot you’ve blundered on a big +interrogation point,” he observed. “Did you meet him +down there?”</p> +<p>“No, only heard his voice in the night. It’s not very +easy to mistake that velvety blood-puddin’ voice of his, +and a team went down to meet him. He seems to go +down by another route, railroad I reckon, and comes in +by the south ranch. Now just what is south?”</p> +<p>“The ranches of Soledad grant join La Partida, or +aim to. There are no maps, and no one here knows +how far down over the border the Partida leagues do +reach. Soledad was an old mission site, and a fortified +hacienda back in the days of Juarez. Its owner was convicted +of treason during Diaz’ reign, executed, and the +ranches confiscated. It is now in the hands of a Federal +politician who is safer in Hermosillo. The revolutionists +are thick even among the pacificos up here, but the +Federals have the most ammunition, and the gods of war +are with the guns.”</p> +<p>“Sure; and who is the Federal politician? No, not +that colt, Marcito!”</p> +<p>“Perez, Don José Perez,” stated Pike, giving no heed +to corral interpolations. “He claims more leagues than +have ever been reckoned or surveyed, took in several +Indian rancherias last year when the natives were +rounded up and shipped to Yucatan.”</p> +<p>“What?”</p> +<p>“Oh, he is in that slave trade good and plenty! They +say he is sore on the Yaquis because he lost a lot of +money on a boat load that committed suicide as they +were sailing from Guaymas.”</p> +<p>“A boat load of suicides! Now a couple of dozen +would sound reasonable, but a boat load–––”</p> +<p>“But it happened to every Indian on the boat, and the +boat was full! No one knows how the poor devils decided +it, but it was their only escape from slavery, and +they went over the side like a school of fish. Men, +women, and children from the desert who couldn’t swim +a stroke! Talk about nerve––there wasn’t one weakling +in that whole outfit, not one! Perez was wild. It lost +him sixty dollars a head, American.”</p> +<p>“And that’s the neighbor friend Conrad takes a run +down south to see occasionally?”</p> +<p>“Who says so, Bub?”</p> +<p>The two looked at each other, eyes questioning.</p> +<p>“Look here, son,” said Pike, after a little, “I’ll hit any +trail with you barring Mexican politics. They all sell +each other out as regular as the seasons swing around, +and the man north of the line who gets tangled is sure +to be victim if he stays in long enough.”</p> +<p>“Oh, I don’t know! We have a statesman or two who +flirted with Sonora and came out ahead.”</p> +<p>“I said if he stayed in,” reminded Pike. “Sure we +have crooks galore who drift across, play a cut-throat +game and skip back to cover. The border is lined with +them on both sides. And Conrad–––”</p> +<p>“But Conrad isn’t in politics.”</p> +<p>“N-no. There’s no evidence that he is, but his +Mexican friends are. There are men on the Granados +now who used to be down on Soledad, and they are the +men who make the trips with him to the lower ranch.”</p> +<p>“Tomas Herrara and Chico Domingo?”</p> +<p>“I reckon you’ve sized them up, but remember, Kit, +I don’t cross over with you for any political game, and +I don’t know a thing!”</p> +<p>“All right, Captain, but don’t raise too loud a howl if +I fancy a <i>pasear</i> occasionally to improve my Spanish.”</p> +<p>The old man grumbled direful and profane prophecies +as to things likely to happen to students of Spanish love +songs in Sonora, and then sat with his head on one side +studying Kit ruminatively as he made his notes of the +selected stock.</p> +<p>“Ye know Bub, it mightn’t be so bad at that, if you +called a halt in time, for one of the lost mine trails calls +for Spanish and plenty of it. I’ve got a working knowledge, +but the farther you travel into Sonora the less +American you will hear, and that lost mine of the old +padres is down there along the ranges of Soledad somewhere.”</p> +<p>“Which one of the fifty-seven varieties have you +elected to uncover first?” queried Rhodes. “The last +time you were confidential about mines I thought the +‘Three Hills of Gold’ were mentioned by you.”</p> +<p>“Sure it was, but since you are on the Sonora end of +the ranch, and since you are picking up your ears to learn +Sonoran trails, it might be a good time to follow your +luck. Say, I’ll bet that every herder who drifts into the +<i>cantina</i> at La Partida has heard of the red gold of El +Alisal. The Yaquis used to know where it was before +so many of them were killed off; reckon it’s lost good +and plenty now, but nothing is hid forever and it’s waiting +there for some man with the luck.”</p> +<p>“We’re willing,” grinned Kit. “You are a great little +old dreamer, Captain. And there is a fair chance I may +range down there. I met a chap named Whitely from +over toward the Painted Hills north of Altar. Ranch +manager, sort of friendly.”</p> +<p>“Sure, Tom Whitely has some stock in a ranch over +there––the Mesa Blanca ranch––it joins Soledad on the +west. I’ve always aimed to range that way, but the lost +mine is closer than the eastern sierras––must be! The +trail of the early padres was farther east, and the mine +could not well be far from the trail, not more than a day’s +journey by mule or burro, and that’s about twenty miles. +You see Bub, it was found by a padre who wandered +off the trail on the way to a little branch mission, or +<i>visita</i>, as they call it, and it was where trees grew, for a +big alisal tree––sycamore you know––was near the outcrop +of that red gold. Well, that <i>visita</i> was where the +padres only visited the heathen for baptism and such +things; no church was built there! That’s what tangles +the trail for anyone trying to find traces after a hundred +years.”</p> +<p>“I reckon it would,” agreed Rhodes. “Think what +a hundred years of cactus, sand, and occasional <i>temblors</i> +can do to a desert, to say nothing of the playful zephyrs. +Why, Cap, the winds could lift a good-sized range of +hills and fill the baby rivers with it in that time, for the +winds of the desert have a way with them!”</p> +<p>A boy rode out of the whirls of dust, and climbed up +on the corral fence where Rhodes was finishing tally of +the horses selected for shipment. He was the slender, +handsome son of Tomas Herrara of whom they had been +speaking.</p> +<p>“It is a letter,” he said, taking a folded paper from his +hat. “The Señor Conrad is having the telegraph, and +the cars are to be ready for Granados.”</p> +<p>“Right you are, Juanito,” agreed Rhodes. “Tell +Señor Conrad I will reach Granados for supper, and +that all the stock is in.”</p> +<p>The lad whirled away again, riding joyously north, and +Rhodes, after giving final directions to the vaqueros, +turned his roan in the same direction.</p> +<p>“Can’t ride back with you, Cap, for I’m taking a little +<i>pasear</i> around past Herrara’s rancheria. I want to take +a look at that bunch of colts and size up the water there. +I’ve a hunch they had better be headed up the other valley +to the Green Springs tank till rains come.”</p> +<p>Captain Pike jogged off alone after some audible and +highly colored remarks concerning range bosses who +assumed the power of the Almighty to be everywhere the +same day. Yet as he watched the younger man disappear +over the gray-green range he smiled tolerantly for, after +all, that sort of a hustler was the right sort of partner +for a prospecting trip.</p> +<p>The late afternoon was a golden haze under a metal +blue sky; afar to the east, sharp edges of the mountains +cut purple zig-zags into the salmon pink of the horizon. +The rolling waves of the ranges were bathed in a sea of +rest, and now and then a bird on the mesquite along an +arroya, or resting on branch of flaring occotilla would +give out the foreboding call of the long shadows, for the +heart of the day had come and gone, and the cooler +air was waking the hidden things from siesta.</p> +<p>Kit Rhodes kept the roan at a steady lope along +the cattle trail, drinking in the refreshing sweetness of +the lonely ranges after hours of dust and heat and the +trampling horse herds of the corrals. Occasionally he +broke into songs of the ranges, love songs, death laments, +and curious sentimental ditties of love and wars of old +England as still crooned in the cabins of southern mountains.</p> +<table summary=''><tr><td> +<p class='cg'><i>I had not long been married,<br /> +<span class='indent2'> </span>A happy, happy bride!<br /> +When a handsome trooper captain<br /> +<span class='indent2'> </span>Stepped up to our bedside,<br /> +“Rise up! rise up! young man,” he said,<br /> +<span class='indent2'> </span>“And go along with me,<br /> +In the low, low lands of Holland<br /> +<span class='indent2'> </span>To fight for liberty.</i>”</p> +</td></tr></table> +<p>The ancient song of the sad bride whose lover proved +false in the “low, low lands of Holland” trailed lugubriously +along the arroya in a totally irrelevant way, for +the singer was not at all sad. He was gaily alert, keen-eyed +and watchful, keeping time to the long lope with +that dubious versification.</p> +<p>“And they’re at it again pretty close to the ‘low, low +lands of Holland,’ Pardner,” he confided to the horse. +“And when you and I make a stake you’ll go on pasture, +I’ll hit the breeze for Canada or some other seaport, +and get one whack at the Boche brown rat on my own if +official America is too proud to fight, for</p> +<table summary=''><tr><td> +<p class='cg'><i>Oh-h! oh-h! Oh-h!<br /> +In the low, low lands of Holland,<br /> +My love was false to me!”</i></p> +</td></tr></table> +<p>Then, after long stretches of sand dunes, mesquite +thickets, occasional wide cañons where <i>zacatan</i> meadows +rippled like waves of the sea in the desert air, he swung +his horse around a low hill and came in sight of the little +adobe of Herrara, a place of straggly enclosures of stakes +and wattles, with the corral at the back.</p> +<p>Another rider came over the hill beyond the corral, on +a black horse skimming the earth. Rhodes stared and +whistled softly as the black without swerving planted its +feet and slid down the declivity by the water tank, and +then, jumping the fence below, sped to the little <i>ramada</i> +before the adobe where its rider slid to the ground amid +a deal of barking of dogs and scattering of children.</p> +<p>And although Kit had never seen the rider before, he +had no difficulty as to recognition, and on a sudden impulse +he whistled the meadow-lark call loudly enough to +reach her ears.</p> +<p>She halted at the door, a bundle in her hand, and surveyed +the landscape, but failed to see him because he at +that moment was back of a clump of towering prickly +pear. And she passed on into the shadows of the adobe.</p> +<p>“That’s the disadvantage of being too perfect, Pardner,” +he confided to the roan, “she thinks we are a pair +of birds.”</p> +<p>He turned at the corner of the corral and rode around +it which took him back of the house and out of range +from the door, but the dogs set up a ki-yi-ing, and a flock +of youngsters scuttled to the corner of the adobe, and +stared as children of the far ranges are prone to stare at +the passing of a traveler from the longed-for highways +of the world.</p> +<p>The barking of the dogs and scampering of the children +evidently got on the nerves of the black horse left standing +at the vine-covered <i>ramada</i>, for after a puppy had +barked joyously at his heels he leaped aside, and once +turned around kept on going, trotting around the corral +after the roan.</p> +<p>Rhodes saw it but continued on his way, knowing he +could pick it up on his return, as the Ojo Verde tank was +less than a mile away. A boy under the <i>ramada</i> gave one +quick look and then fled, a flash of brown and a red +flapping end of a sash, up the cañoncita where the home +spring was shadowed by a large mesquite tree.</p> +<p>At first Rhodes turned in the saddle with the idea of +assisting in the catching of the black if that was the thing +desired, but it evidently was not.</p> +<p>“Now what has that <i>muchacho</i> on his mind that he +makes that sort of get-away after nothing and no pursuer +in sight? Pardner, I reckon we’ll squander a valuable +minute or two and gather in that black.”</p> +<p>He galloped back, caught the wanderer but kept right +on without pause to the trickle of water under the flat +wide-spreading tree––it was a solitaire, being king of +its own domain and the only shade, except the vine-covered +<i>ramada</i>, for a mile.</p> +<p>The startled boy made a movement as if to run again +as Kit rode up, then halted, fear and fateful resignation +changing the childish face to sullenness.</p> +<p>“<i>Buenas tardes</i>, Narcisco.”</p> +<p>“<i>Buenas tardes</i>, señor,” gulped the boy.</p> +<p>“I turned back to catch the horse of the señorita for +you,” observed Rhodes. “It is best you tie him when you +lead him back, but first give him water. Thirst is perhaps +the cause he is restless.”</p> +<p>“Yes señor,” agreed the lad. “At once I will do +that.” But he held the horse and did not move from his +tracks, and then Rhodes noticed that on the flat rock +behind him was a grain sack thrown over something, a +brown bottle had rolled a little below it, and the end of +a hammer protruded from under the sacking.</p> +<p>Ordinarily Rhodes would have given no heed to any +simple ranch utensils gathered under the shadow where +work was more endurable, but the fear in the face of the +boy fascinated him.</p> +<p>“Think I’ll give Pardner a drink while I am about it,” +he decided, and dismounted carelessly. “Got a cup that +I can take my share first?”</p> +<p>Narcisco had no cup, only shook his head and swallowed +as if the attempt at words was beyond him.</p> +<p>“Well, there is a bottle if it is clean,” and Rhodes +strode awkwardly towards it, but his spur caught in the +loose mesh of the sacking, and in loosening it he twisted +it off the rock.</p> +<p>Narcisco gasped audibly, and Rhodes laughed. He had +uncovered a couple of dozen empty whiskey bottles, and +a tin pan with some broken glass.</p> +<p>“What you trying to start up here in the cañon, +Buddy?” he asked. “Playing saloon-keeper with only +the gophers for customers?”</p> +<p>He selected a corked bottle evidently clean, rinsed and +drank from it.</p> +<p>“Yes––señor––I am here playing––that is all,” affirmed +Narcisco. “At the house Tia Mariana puts us out +because there is a new <i>niño</i>––my mother and the new +one sleep––and there is no place to make a noise.”</p> +<p>“Oh,” commented Rhodes, “well, let the black have +a little water, and lead him out of the way of mine. This +gully isn’t wide enough to turn around in.”</p> +<p>Obediently the boy led the black to the sunken barrel +catching seepage from the barrel under the drip. Rhodes +tossed the sack back to the flat rock and noted an old +canvas water bottle beside the heap, it was half full of +something––not water, for it was uncorked and the +mouth of it a-glitter with shimmering particles like diamond +dust, and the same powder was over a white spot +on the rock––the lad evidently was playing miller and +pounding broken glass into a semblance of meal.</p> +<p>“Funny stunt, that!” he pondered, and, smiling, +watched the frightened boy. “Herrara certainly is doing +a bit of collecting <i>vino</i> to have a stock of bottles that +size, and the poor kid’s nothing else to play with.”</p> +<p>He mounted and rode on, leaving Narcisco to lead the +black to his mistress. He could not get out of his mind +the fright in the eyes of the boy. Was Herrara a brute +to his family, and had Narcisco taken to flight to hide +his simple playthings under the mistaken idea that the +horseman was his father returned early from the ranges?</p> +<p>That was the only solution Rhodes could find to the +problem, though he milled it around in his mind quite +a bit. Unless the boy was curiously weak-minded and +frightened at the face of a stranger it was the only explanation +he could find, yet the boys of Herrara had +always struck him as rather bright. In fact Conrad had +promoted Juanito to the position of special messenger; +he could ride like the wind and never forget a word.</p> +<p>The shadows lengthened as he circled the little cañon +of the Ojo Verde and noted the water dripping from the +full tanks, ideal for the colt range for three months. He +took note that Herrara was not neglecting anything, +despite that collection of bottles. There was no wastage +and the pipes connecting the tanks were in good condition.</p> +<p>He rode back, care free and content, through the fragrant +valley. The cool air was following the lowering +sun, and a thin mauve veil was drifting along the hills +of mystery in the south; he sang as he rode and then +checked the song to listen to the flutelike call of a lark. +His lips curved in a smile as he heard it, and with it came +the thought of the girl and the barred window of Vijil’s +adobe.</p> +<p>She permeated the life of Granados just as the soft veil +enwrapped the far hills, and she had seemed almost as +far away if not so mysterious. Not once had he crossed +her trail, and he heard she was no longer permitted to +ride south of the line. The vaqueros commented on this +variously according to their own point of view. Some +of the Mexicans resented it, and in one way or another +her name was mentioned whenever problems of the future +were discussed. Singleton was regarded as temporary, +and Conrad was a salaried business manager. But on a +day to come, the señorita, as her mother’s daughter, would +be their mistress, and the older men with families showed +content at the thought.</p> +<p>Rhodes never could think of her as the chatelaine of +those wide ranges. She was to him the “meadow-lark +child” of jests and laughter, heard and remembered but +not seen. She was the haunting music of youth meeting +him at the gateway of a new land which is yet so old!</p> +<p>Some such vagrant thought drifted through his mind +as the sweet calls of the drowsy birds cut the warm +silence, now from some graceful palo verde along a barranca +and again from the slender pedestal of an occotilla.</p> +<p>“Lucky you, for you get an answer!” he thought +whimsically. “Amble along, Pardner, or the night +witches get us!”</p> +<p>And then he circled a little at the north of the cañon, +and the black horse, champing and fidgeting, was held +there across the trail by its rider.</p> +<p>“We are seeing things in broad daylight, Pardner, +and there ain’t no such animal,” decided Rhodes, but +Pardner whinnied, and the girl threw up her hand.</p> +<p>“This time I am a highwayman, the far-famed terror +of the ranges!” she called.</p> +<p>“Sure!” he conceded. “I’ve been thinking quite a +while that your term must be about up.”</p> +<p>She laughed at that, and came alongside.</p> +<p>“Didn’t you suppose I might have my time shortened +for good behavior?” she asked. “You never even ride +our way to see.”</p> +<p>“Me? Why, child, I’m so busy absorbing <i>kultur</i> from +your scientific manager that my spare moments for damsels +in distress are none too plenty. You sent out nary +a call, and how expect the lowest of your serfs to hang +around?”</p> +<p>“Serf? That’s good!” she said skeptically. “And say, +you must love Conrad about as much as Cap Pike does.”</p> +<p>“And that?”</p> +<p>“Is like a rattlesnake.”</p> +<p>“Don’t know that rattlesnake would be my first choice +of comparison,” remarked Rhodes. “Back in Tennessee +we have a variety beside which the rattlesnake is a +gentleman; a rattlesnake does his best to give warning of +intention, but the copperhead never does.”</p> +<p>“Copperhead! that’s funny, for you know Conrad’s +hair is just about the color of copper, dusty copper, faded +copper––copper with tin filings sifted through.”</p> +<p>“Don’t strain yourself,” laughed Rhodes. “That +beautiful blondness makes him mighty attractive to our +Mexican cousins.”</p> +<p>“They can have my share,” decided the girl. “I +could worry along without him quite awhile. He manages +to get rid of all the likeable range men <i>muy pronto</i>.”</p> +<p>Rhodes laughed until she stared at him frowningly, and +then the delicious color swept over her face.</p> +<p>“Oh, <i>you</i>!” she said, and Rhodes thought of sweet +peas, and pink roses in old southern gardens as her lips +strove to be straight, yet curved deliciously. No one had +mentioned to him how pretty she was; he had thought of +her as a browned tom-boy, but instead she was a shell-pink +bud on a slender stem, and wonder of wonders––she +rode a side-saddle in Arizona!</p> +<p>She noticed him looking at it.</p> +<p>“Are you going to laugh at that, too?” she demanded.</p> +<p>“Why no, it hadn’t occurred to me. It sort of looks +like home to me––our southern girls use them.”</p> +<p>She turned to him with a quick birdlike movement, +her gray eyes softened and trusting.</p> +<p>“It was my mother’s saddle, a wedding present from +the vaqueros of our ranches when she married my father. +I am only beginning to use it, and not so sure of myself +as with the one I learned on.”</p> +<p>“Oh, I don’t know,” he observed. “You certainly +looked sure when you jumped that fence at Herrara’s.”</p> +<p>She glanced at him quickly, curious, and then smiling.</p> +<p>“And it was you, not the meadow lark! You are too +clever!”</p> +<p>“And you didn’t answer, just turned your back on the +lonely ranger,” he stated dolefully, but she laughed.</p> +<p>“This doesn’t look it, waiting to go home with you,” +she retorted. “Cap Pike has been telling me about you +until I feel as if I had known you forever. He says you +are his family now, so of course that makes Granados +different for you.”</p> +<p>“Why, yes. I’ve been in sight of Granados as much as +twice since I struck this neck of the woods. Your manager +seems to think my valuable services are indispensable +at the southern side of this little world.”</p> +<p>“So that’s the reason? I didn’t know,” she said slowly. +“One would have to be a seventh son of a seventh son +to understand his queer ways. But you are going along +home today, for I am a damsel in distress and need to +be escorted.”</p> +<p>“You don’t look distressed, and I’ve an idea you could +run away from your escort if you took a notion,” he +returned. “But it is my lucky day that I had a hunch +for this cañon trail and the Green Springs, and I am +happy to tag along.”</p> +<p>They had reached Herrara’s corral and Rhodes glanced +up the little gulch to the well. The flat rock there was +stripped of the odd collection, and Narcisco stood at the +corner of the adobe watching them somberly.</p> +<p>“<i>Buenos tardes!</i>” called the girl. “Take care of the +<i>niño</i> as the very treasure of your heart!”</p> +<p>“Sure!” agreed the lad, “<i>Adios</i>, señorita.”</p> +<p>“Why the special guard over the treasure?” asked +Rhodes as their horses fell into the long easy lope side +by side. “The house seems full and running over, and +<i>niñitas</i> to spare.”</p> +<p>“There are never any to spare,” she reminded him, +“and this one is doubly precious for it is named for me––together +its saint and its two grandmothers! Benicia +promised me long ago that whether it was a boy or a girl +it would be Billie Bernard Herrara. I was just taking +the extra clothes I had Tia Luz make for him––and he +is a little black-eyed darling! Soon as he is weaned I’m +going to adopt him; I always did want a piccaninny for +my own.”</p> +<p>Rhodes guided his horse carefully around a barranca +edge, honeycombed by gophers, and then let his eyes rest +again on the lustrous confiding eyes, and the rose-leaf +lips.</p> +<p>Afterward he told himself that was the moment he +began to be bewitched by Billie Bernard.</p> +<p>But what he really said was––“Shoo, child, you’re +only a piccaninny yourself!” and they both laughed.</p> +<p>It was quite wonderful how old Captain Pike had managed +to serve as a family foundation for their knowledge +of each other. There was not a doubt or a barrier between +them, they were “home folks” riding from different +ways and meeting in the desert, and silently claiming +kindred.</p> +<p>The shadows grew long and long under the sun of the +old Mexic land, and the high heavens blazed above in +yellows and pinks fading into veiled blues and far misty +lavenders in the hollows of the hills.</p> +<p>The girl drew a great breath of sheer delight as she +waved her hands towards the fire flame in the west where +the desert was a trail of golden glory.</p> +<p>“Oh, I am glad––glad I got away!” she said in a +hushed half-awed voice. “It never––never could be like +this twice and we are seeing it! Look at the moon!”</p> +<p>The white circle in the east was showing through a net +of softest purple and the beauty of it caused them to +halt.</p> +<p>“Oh, it makes me want to sing, or to say my prayers, +or––to cry!” she said, and she blinked tears from her +eyes and smiled at him. “I reckon the colors would look +the same from the veranda, but all this makes it seem +different,” and her gesture took in the wide ranges.</p> +<p>“Sure it does,” he agreed. “One wants to yell, ‘Hurrah +for God!’ when a combination like this is spread before +the poor meek and lowly of the earth. It is a great stage +setting, and makes us humans seem rather inadequate. +Why, we can’t even find the right words for it.”</p> +<p>“It makes me feel that I just want to ride on and on, +and on through it, no matter which way I was headed.”</p> +<p>“Well, take it from me, señorita, you are headed the +right way,” he observed. “Going north is safe, but the +blue ranges of the south are walls of danger. The old +border line is a good landmark to tie to.”</p> +<p>“Um!” she agreed, “but all the fascinating things and +the witchy things, and the mysterious things are down +there over the border. I never get real joy riding north.”</p> +<p>“Perhaps because it is not forbidden, Miss Eve.”</p> +<p>Then they laughed again and lifted the bridles, and +the horses broke into a steady lope, neck and neck, +as the afterglow made the earth radiant and the young +faces reflected the glory of it.</p> +<p>“What was that you said about getting away?” he +queried. “Did you break jail?”</p> +<p>“Just about. Papa Singleton hid my cross-saddle +thinking I would not go far on this one. They have put +a ban on my riding south, but I just had to see my Billie +Bernard Herrara.”</p> +<p>“And you ran away?”</p> +<p>“N-no. We sneaked away mighty slow and still till +we got a mile or two out, and then we certainly burned the +wind. Didn’t we, Pat?”</p> +<p>“Well, as range boss of this end of the ranch I reckon +I have to herd you home, and tell them to put up the +fences,” said Rhodes.</p> +<p>“Yes, you will!” she retorted in derision of this highly +improbable suggestion.</p> +<p>“Surest thing you know! Singleton has good reasons +for restricting your little pleasure rides to Granados. Just +suppose El Gavilan, the Hawk, should cross your trail in +Sonora, take a fancy to Pat––for Pat is some <i>caballo</i>!––and +gather you in as camp cook?”</p> +<p>“Camp cook?”</p> +<p>“Why, yes; you can cook, can’t you? All girls should +know how to cook.”</p> +<p>“What if I do? I have cooked on the camp trips with +Cap Pike, but that doesn’t say I’ll ever cook for that +wild rebel, Ramon Rotil. Are you trying to frighten me +off the ranges?”</p> +<p>“No, only stating the case,” replied Rhodes lighting a +cigarette and observing her while appearing not to. +“Quite a few of the girls in the revolution camps are as +young as you, and many of them are not doing camp +work by their own choice.”</p> +<p>“But I––” she began indignantly.</p> +<p>“Oh yes, in time you would be ransomed, and for a +few minutes you might think it romantic––the ‘Bandit +Bride,’ the ‘Rebel Queen,’ the ‘Girl Guerrilla,’ and all +that sort of dope,––but believe me, child, by the time the +ransom was paid you would be sure that north of the line +was the garden spot of the earth and heaven enough for +you, if you could only see it again!”</p> +<p>She gave him one sulky resentful look and dug her heel +into Pat. He leaped a length ahead of the roan and +started running.</p> +<p>“You can pretend you are El Gavilan after a lark, and +see how near you will get!” she called derisively and +leaned forward urging the black to his best.</p> +<p>“You glorified gray-eyed lark!” he cried. “Gather +her in, Pardner!”</p> +<p>But he rode wide to the side instead of at the heels +of Pat and thus they rode neck and neck joyously while +he laughed at her intent to leave him behind.</p> +<p>The corrals and long hay ricks of Granados were now +in sight, backed by the avenue of palms and streaks of +green where the irrigation ditches led water to the outlying +fields and orchards.</p> +<p>“El Gavilan!” she called laughingly. “Beat him, Pat,––beat +him to the home gate!”</p> +<p>Then out of a fork of the road to the left, an automobile +swept to them from a little valley, one man was driving +like the wind and another waved and shouted. +Rhodes’ eyes assured him that the shouting man was +Philip Singleton, and he rode closer to the girl, grasped +her bridle, and slowed down his own horse as well as +hers.</p> +<p>“You’ll hate me some more for this,” he stated as she +tried to jerk loose and failed, “but that yelping windmill +is your fond guardian, and he probably thinks I am +trying to kidnap you.”</p> +<p>She halted at that, laughing and breathless, and waved +her hand to the occupants of the car.</p> +<p>“I can be good as an angel now that I have had my +day!” she said. “Hello folks! What’s the excitement?”</p> +<p>The slender man whom Rhodes had termed the yelping +windmill, removed his goggles, and glared, hopelessly +distressed at the flushed, half-laughing girl.</p> +<p>“Billie––Wilfreda!”</p> +<p>“Now, now, Papa Singleton! Don’t swear, and don’t +ever get frightened because I am out of sight.” Then +she cast one withering glance at Rhodes, adding,––“and +if you engage range bosses like this one no one on +Granados will ever get out of sight!”</p> +<p>“The entire house force has been searching for you +over two hours. Where have you been?”</p> +<p>“Oh, come along home to supper, and don’t fuss,” she +suggested. “Just because you hid my other saddle I went +on a little <i>pasear</i> of my own, and I met up with this roan +on my way home.”</p> +<p>Rhodes grinned at the way she eliminated the rider of +the roan horse, but the driver of the machine was not +deceived by the apparent slight. He had seen that half +defiant smile of comradeship, and his tone was not nice.</p> +<p>“It is not good business to waste time and men in this +way,” he stated flatly. “It would be better that word is +left with the right ones when you go over the border to +amuse yourself in Sonora.”</p> +<p>The smile went out of the eyes of the girl, and she held +her head very erect.</p> +<p>“You and Mr. Rhodes appear to agree perfectly, Mr. +Conrad,” she remarked. “He was trying to show me +how little chance I would stand against El Gavilan or +even the Yaqui slave traders if they ranged up towards +the border.”</p> +<p>“Slave traders?” repeated Conrad. “You are making +your jokes about that, of course, but the camp followers +of the revolution is a different thing;––everywhere they +are ranging.”</p> +<p>The girl did not answer, and the car sped on to the +ranch house while the two horses cantered along after +them, but the joyous freedom of the ride had vanished, +lost back there on the ranges when the other minds met +them in a clash.</p> +<p>“Say,” observed Rhodes, “I said nothing about Yaqui +slave traders. Where did you get that?”</p> +<p>“I heard Conrad and his man Brehman talking of the +profits,––sixty pesos a head I think it was. I wonder +how they knew?”</p> +<p>Singleton was waiting for them at the entrance to the +ranch house, great adobe with a patio eighty feet square +in the center. In the old old days it had housed all the +vaqueros, but now the ranchmen were divided up on +different outlying rancherias and the many rooms of +Granados were mostly empty. Conrad, his secretary +Brehman, and their cook occupied one corner, while Singleton +and Billie and Tia Luz with her brood of helpers +occupied the other.</p> +<p>Singleton was not equal to the large hospitality of the +old days when the owner of a hacienda was a sort of +king, dispensing favors and duties to a small army of +retainers. A companionable individual he was glad to +meet and chat or smoke with, but if the property had been +his own he would have sold every acre and spent the proceeds +in some city of the East where a gentleman could +get something for his money.</p> +<p>Conrad had halted a moment after Singleton climbed +out of the car.</p> +<p>“I sent word to Rhodes to come up from La Partida +because of the horse shipment,” he said looking across +the level where the two riders were just entering the palm +avenue. “Because of that it would seem he is to be +my guest, and I have room.”</p> +<p>“Oh, we all have room, more room than anything +else,” answered Singleton drearily, “but it will be as +Billie says. I see Pike’s nag here, and she always wants +Pike.”</p> +<p>The milky blue eyes of Conrad slanted towards Singleton +in discreet contempt of the man who allowed a wayward +girl to decide the guests or the housing of them. +But he turned away.</p> +<p>“The telephone will reach me if there is anything I +can do,” he said.</p> +<p>Singleton did not reply. He knew Conrad absolutely +disapproved of the range boss being accepted as a family +guest. Between Billie and Captain Pike, who was a privileged +character, he did not quite see how he could prevent +it in the case of Rhodes, although he was honestly so +glad to see the girl ride home safe that he would have +accepted any guest of the range she suggested.</p> +<p>“Papa Phil,” she said smiling up into his face teasingly, +“I’m on my native heath again, so don’t be sulky. +And I have a darling new namesake I’ve been making +clothes for for a month, and I’ll tell you all about him if +you’ll give Mr. Rhodes and me a good supper. He is +Cap Pike’s family, and will have the south corner room; +please tell Tia Luz.”</p> +<p>And when Billie was like that, and called him “Papa +Phil,” and looked up at him with limpid childish eyes, +there was never much else to be said.</p> +<p>“I’ll show Rhodes his quarters myself, and you make +haste and get your habit off. Luz has been waiting supper +an hour. Today’s paper reports a band of bandits running +off stock on the Alton ranch, and it is on the Arizona +side of the border. That should show you it is no time +to ride out of sight of the corrals.”</p> +<p>“Now, now! you know the paper raids aren’t real +raids. They’ll have a new one to get excited over tomorrow.”</p> +<p>She ran away to be petted and scolded and prayed +for by Tia Luz, who had been her nurse, and was now +housekeeper and the privileged one to whom Billie turned +for help and sympathy.</p> +<p>“You laugh! but the heart was melting in me with the +fear,” she grumbled as she fastened the yellow sash over +the white lawn into which Billie had dashed hurriedly. +“It is not a joke to be caught in the raiding of Ramon +Rotil, or any of the other accursed! Who could think +it was south you were riding? I was the one to send them +north in the search, every man of them, and Señor Conrad +looks knives at me. That man thinks I am a liar, sure +he does! and the saints know I was honest and knew +nothing.”</p> +<p>“Sure you know nothing, never could and never did, +you dear old bag of cotton,” and Billie pinched affectionately +the fat arm of Tia Luz and tickled her under +her fat chin. “Quick Luzita, and fasten me up. Supper +waits, and men are always raving wolves.”</p> +<p>She caught up a string of amber beads and clasped it +about her throat as she ran across the patio, and Kit +Rhodes halted a moment in the corridor to watch her.</p> +<p>“White and gold and heavenly lovely,” he thought as +he rumpled his crisp brown curls meditatively, all forgetful +of the earnest attempts he had just made to smooth +them decorously with the aid of a damp towel and a +pocket comb. “White and gold and a silver spoon, and a +back seat for you, Kittie boy!”</p> +<p>Captain Pike emerged from a door at the corner of the +patio. He also had damp hair, a shiny face, and a brand-new +neckerchief with indigo circles on a white ground.</p> +<p>“Look at this, will you?” he piped gleefully. “Billie’s +the greatest child ever! Always something stuck under +the pillow like you’d hide candy for a kid, and say,––if +any of the outfit would chuck another hombre in my bunk +the little lady would raise hell from here to Pinecate, +and worse than that there ain’t any this side of the +European centers of civilization. Come on in, supper’s +ready.”</p> +<p>Rhodes hesitated at the door of the dining room, suddenly +conscious of a dusty blouse and a much faded shirt. +His spurs clink-clanked as he strode along the tiling of +the patio, and in the semi-twilight he felt at home in the +ranch house, but one look at the soft glow of the shaded +lamps, and the foot deep of Mexican needlework on the +table cover, gave him a picture of home such as he had +not seen on the ranges.</p> +<p>Singleton was in spotless white linen, the ideal southern +ranchman’s home garb, while the mistress of all the enticing +picture was in white and gold, and flushing pink +as she met the grave appreciative gaze of Rhodes.</p> +<p>“H’lo little Santa Claus,” chirruped Pike. “It’s just +the proper caper to set off my manly beauty, so I’m one +ahead of Kit who has no one to garnish him for the feast––and +it sure smells like some feast!”</p> +<p>“Venison perhaps a trifle overdone, but we hope it +won’t disappoint you,” remarked Singleton. “Have this +seat, Mr. Rhodes. Captain Pike and Miss Bernard always +chum together, and have their own side.”</p> +<p>“Rather,” decided Pike, “and that arrangement reaches +back beyond the memory of mere man in this outfit.”</p> +<p>“I should say,” agreed the girl. “Why, he used to +have to toss me over his head a certain number of times +before I would agree to be strapped in my high chair.”</p> +<p>“Yep, and I carpentered the first one, and it wasn’t so +bad at that! Now child, if you will pass the lemons, and +Kit will pass the decanter of amber, and someone else +will rustle some water, I’ll manufacture a tonic to take +the dust out of your throats.”</p> +<p>“Everybody works but father,” laughed Billie as the +Chinaman sliced and served the venison, and Tia Luz +helped supply all plates, and then took her place quietly +at the lower end of the table and poured the strong fragrant +coffee.</p> +<p>Rhodes spoke to her in Spanish, and her eyes lit up with +kindly appreciation.</p> +<p>“Ah, very good!” she commented amicably. “You +are not then too much Americano?”</p> +<p>“Well, yes, I’m about as American as you find them +aside from the Apache and Pima and the rest of the +tribes.”</p> +<p>“Maybe so, but not gringo,” she persisted. “I am +scared of the Apache the same as of El Gavilan, and +today my heart was near to stop going at all when we lose +señorita and that black horse––and I say a prayer for +you to San Antonio when I see you come fetch her home +again.”</p> +<p>“Yes, the black horse is valuable,” remarked Billie. +“Huh! I might as well be in a convent for all I get to +see of the ranges these late days. If anyone would grubstake +me, I’d break loose with Cap here and go prospecting +for adventures into some of the unnamed ranges.”</p> +<p>“You see!” said Tia Luz. “Is it a wonder I am cold +with the fear when she is away from my eyes? I have +lived to see the people who go into the desert for adventure, +and whose bare bones are all any man looks on +again! Beside the mountain wells of Carrizal my own +cousin’s husband died; he could not climb to the tank +in the hill. There they found him in the moon of Kumaki, +which is gray and nothing growing yet.”</p> +<p>“Yes, many’s the salt outfit in the West played out +before they reached Tinajas Altas,” said Pike. “I’ve +heard curious tales about that place, and the Carrizals as +well. Billie’s father nearly cashed in down in the Carrizals, +and one of his men did.”</p> +<p>“But that is what I am saying. It was Dario Ruiz,” +stated Tia Luz. “Yes, señor, that was the time, and it +was for the nameless ranges they went seeking, and for +adventures, treasure too; but––his soul to God! it was +death Dario was finding on that trail. Your father never +would speak one word again of the treasure of that old +fable, for Dario found death instead of the red gold, and +Dario was <i>compadre</i> to him.”</p> +<p>“The red gold?” and Cap Pike’s eyes were alight with +interest. “Why, I was telling Kit about that today, the +red gold of El Alisal.”</p> +<p>“Yes, Señor Capitan, once so rich and so red it was a +wonder in Spain when the padres are sending it there +from the mission of Soledad, and then witches craft, like +a cloud, come down and cover that mountain. So is the +vein lost again, and it is nearly one hundred years. So +how could Dario think to find it when the padres, with +all their prayer, never once found the trail?”</p> +<p>“I never heard it was near a mission,” remarked Pike. +“Why, if it had a landmark like that there should be no +trouble.”</p> +<p>“Yet it is so, and much trouble, also deaths,” stated +Tia Luz. “That is how the saying is that the red gold +of El Alisal is gold bewitched, for of Soledad not one +adobe is now above ground unless it be in the old walls of +the hacienda. All is melted into earth again or covered by +the ranch house, and it is said the ranch house is also +neglected now, and many of its old walls are going.”</p> +<p>“There are still enough left to serve as a very fair +fortress,” remarked Singleton. “I was down there two +years ago when we bought some herds from Perez, and +lost quite a number from lack of water before the +vaqueros got them to La Partida wells. It is a long way +between water holes over in Altar.”</p> +<p>“Sure,” agreed Pike, “but if the old mine was near a +mission, and the mission was near the ranch of Soledad +it should not be a great stunt to find it, and there must be +water and plenty of it if they do much in cattle.”</p> +<p>“They don’t these days,” said Singleton. “Perez sold +a lot rather than risk confiscation, and I heard they did +have some raids down there. I thought I had heard most +of the lost mine legends of western Sonora, but I never +heard of that one, and I never heard that Fred Bernard +went looking for it.”</p> +<p>The old woman lifted her brows and shrugged her +shoulders with the suggestion that Sonora might hold +many secrets from the amicable gentleman. But a little +later, in an inquiry from Rhodes she explained.</p> +<p>“See you, señor, Dario Ruiz was <i>compadre</i> of Señor +Alfredo Bernard, Americanos not understanding all in +that word, and the grandfather of Dario was major-domo +of the rancho of Soledad at that time the Apaches +are going down and killing the people there. That is +when the mine was lost. On the skin of a sheep it was +told in writing all about it, and Dario had that skin. +Sure he had! It was old and had been buried in the sand, +and holes were eaten in it by wild things, but Don Alfredo +did read it, and I was hearing the reading of it to Dario +Ruiz, but of what use the reading when that mine bewitched +itself into hiding?”</p> +<p>“But the writing? Did that bewitch itself away also?” +demanded Billie.</p> +<p>“How could I be asking of that when Dario was dead +down there in the desert, and his wife, that was my +cousin Anita, was crazy wild against Don Alfredo the +father of you! Ai, that was a bad time, and Don Alfredo +with black silence on him for very sorrow. And never +again in his life did he take the Sonora trail for adventures +or old treasure. And it is best that you keep to a +mind like his mind, señorita. He grew wise, but Dario +died for that wisdom, and in Sonora someone always +dies before wisdom is found. First it was two priests +went to death for that gold, and since that old day many +have been going. It is a witchcraft, and no blessing +on it!”</p> +<p>“Well, I reckon I’d be willing to cross my fingers, and +take the trail if I could get started right,” decided Rhodes. +“It certainly sounds alluring.”</p> +<p>“I did go in once,” confessed Pike, “but we had no +luck, struck a <i>temporale</i> where a Papago had smallpox, +and two dry wells where there should have been water. +My working pardner weakened at Paradones and we +made tracks for the good old border. That is no trail for +a lone white man.”</p> +<p>“But the writing, the writing!” persisted Billie. “Tia +Luz, you are a gold mine yourself of stories, but this +one you never told, and I am crazy about it! You never +forget anything, and the writing you <i>could</i> not,––so we +know you have the very words of that writing!”</p> +<p>“Yes, that is true too, for the words were not so many, +and where some words had been the wild things had +eaten holes. The words said that from the mine of El +Alisal the mission of Soledad could be seen. And from +the door of Soledad it was one look, one only, to the +blue cañoncita where the alisal tree was growing, and +water from the gold of the rose washed the roots of that +tree.”</p> +<p>“Good God!” muttered Rhodes staring at the old lady +who sat nodding her head in emphasis until her jet and +gold earrings were all a-twinkle. “It was as easy as <i>that</i>,––yet +no one found it?”</p> +<p>“But señor,”––and it was plain to be seen that Doña +Luz was enjoying herself hugely as the center of all +attention, “the two padres who made that writing met +their death at that place––and it was said the <i>barbaros</i> +at last killed also the grandfather of Dario, anyway he +did die, and the women were afraid to tell even a new +padre of that buried writing for the cause that it must +have been accursed when it killed all people. That is how +it was, and that mission was forsaken after that time. +A Spaniard came up from Sinaloa and hunted gold and +built Soledad hacienda where that mission had been in +that old time, but no one ever found any more of gold +than the chickens always are picking, a little here, a little +there with a gravel in the craw. No señor, only once +the red gold––red as flame––went out of Altar on a +mule to the viceroy in Mexico, and the padres never lived +to send any more, or see their brothers again. The men +who dug that gold dug also their grave. Death goes +with it.”</p> +<p>“Ugh!” and Billie shivered slightly, and looked at +Rhodes, “don’t you go digging it!”</p> +<p>His eyes met hers across the table. It was only for an +instant, and then Billie got very busy with her coffee +which she had forgotten.</p> +<p>“Oh, I’d travel with a mascot to ward off evil,” he +said. “Would you give me a bead from your string?”</p> +<p>She nodded her head, but did not speak. No one +noticed them, for Cap Pike was telling of the old native +superstition that the man who first found an ore bed found +no good luck for himself, though the next man might +make a fortune from it.</p> +<p>“Why,” he continued in evidence, “an Indian who finds +even a vein of special clay for pottery doesn’t blaze a +trail to it for anyone else. He uses it if he wants it, because +his own special guardian god uncovered it for him, +but if it is meant for any other man, that other man’s god +will lead him to it when the time comes. That is how they +reason it out for all the things covered by old Mother +Earth. And I reckon the redder the gold the more secret +the old <i>barbaros</i> would be about it, for gold is their sun-god +medicine, or symbol, or something.”</p> +<p>“With white priests scattered through Sonora for two +centuries one would suppose those old superstitions would +be pretty well eradicated,” remarked Singleton.</p> +<p>Doña Luz glanced at him as at a child who must be let +have his own ideas so long as they were harmless, but +Pike laughed.</p> +<p>“Lord love you, Singleton, nothing eradicates superstition +from the Indian mind, or any other mind! All +the creeds of the earth are built on it, and a lot of the +white ones are still alive and going strong! And as for +priests, why man, the Indian priests are bred of those +tribes, and were here before the white men came from +Spain. It’s just about like this: If ‘Me und Gott’ and +the U-boats took a notion to come over and put a ball +and chain on all of so-called free America, there might +be some pacifist mongrels pretend to like it, and just +dote on putting gilt on the chain, and kow-towing to that +blood-puddin’ gang who are raising hell in Belgium. But +would the thoroughbreds like it? Not on your life! +Well, don’t you forget there were a lot of thoroughbreds +in the Indian clans even if some of their slaves did breed +mongrels! And don’t forget that the ships from overseas +are dumping more scrub stock on the eastern shores right +now than you’ll find in any Indian rancheria either here in +Pima or over in Sonora. The American isn’t to blame +for all the seventeen dozen creeds they bring over,––whether +political or religious, and I reckon that’s about +the way the heads of the red clans feel. They are more +polite than we are about it, but don’t you think for a +moment that the European invasion ever changed religion +for the Indian thoroughbred. No sir! He is still close +to the earth and the stars, and if he thinks they talk to +him––well, they just <i>talk to him</i>, and what they tell him +isn’t for you or me to hear,––or to sit in judgment on +either, if it comes to that! We are the outsiders.”</p> +<p>“Now, Cap,” said Billie, “I’m going to take it away. +It’s too near your elbow, and you have had a double dose +for every single one you’ve been handing out! You can +take a rest until the others catch up. Tia Luz, give him +a cup of coffee good and strong to help get his politics +and religion straightened out.”</p> +<p>Pike laughed heartily with the rest of them, and took +the coffee.</p> +<p>“All right, dear little Buttercup. Any medicine you +hand out is good to me. But say, that dope about hidden +ores may not be all Indian at that, for I recollect that +mountaineers of Tennessee had the same hunch about +coal veins, and an old lead vein where one family went +for their ammunition. They could use it and they did, +but were mighty sure they’d all be hoodooed if they uncovered +it for anyone else, so I reckon that primitive +dope does go pretty far back. I’ll bet it was old when +Tubal Cain first began scratching around the outcroppings +by his lonesomes.”</p> +<p>Conrad sauntered along the corridor and seated himself, +flicking idly some leather thongs he had cut out +from a green hide with a curved sheath knife rather fine +and foreign looking. Singleton called him to come in +and have coffee, but he would not enter, pleading his +evil-smelling pipe as a reason.</p> +<p>“It can’t beat mine for a downright bachelor equipment,” +affirmed Pike, “but I’ve scandalized this outfit +enough, or thereabout, and that venison has killed all +our appetites until breakfast, so why hang around where +ungrateful children swat a man’s dearest hobbies?”</p> +<p>“If you think you’ll get rid of me that way you had +better think again,” said Billie. “I don’t mind your old +smokes, or any other of your evil ways, so long as you +and Tia Luz tell us more bewitched mine stories. Say, +Cap, wouldn’t it be great if that old sheepskin was found +again, and we’d all outfit for a Sonora <i>pasear</i>, and–––”</p> +<p>“We would not!” decided the old man patting her +hair. “You, my lady, will take a <i>pasear</i> to some highbrow +finishing school beyond the ranges, and I’ll hit the +trail for Yuma in a day or two, but at the present moment +you can wind up the music box and start it warbling. +That supper sure was so perfect nothing but music will +do for a finish!”</p> +<p>The men drifted out in the corridor and settled into +the built-in seats of the plazita, though Rhodes remained +standing in the portal facing inward to the patio where +the girl’s shimmering white dress fluttered in the moonlight +beside the shadowy bulk of Tia Luz.</p> +<p>He lit a cigarette and listened for the music box Pike +had suggested, but instead he heard guitar strings, and +the little ripple of introduction to the old Spanish serenade +<i>Vengo a tu ventana</i>, “I come to your window.”</p> +<p>He turned and glanced towards the men who were +discussing horse shipments, and possibilities of the Prussian +sea raiders sinking transports on the way to France, +but decided his part of that discussion could wait until +morning.</p> +<p>Tia Luz had lit the lamp in the <i>sala</i>, and the light +streamed across the patio where the night moths fluttered +about the white oleanders. He smiled in comical self-derision +as he noticed the moths, but tossed away the +cigarette and followed the light.</p> +<p>When Captain Pike indulged the following morning in +sarcastic comment over Kit’s defection, the latter only +laughed at him.</p> +<p>“Shirk business? Nothing doing. I was strictly on +the job listening to local items on treasure trails instead +of powwowing with you all over the latest news reports +from the Balkans. Soon as my pocket has a jingle +again, I am to get to the French front if little old U. S. +won’t give me a home uniform, but in the meantime +Doña Luz Moreno is some reporter if she is humored, +and I mean to camp alongside every chance I get. She +has the woman at the <i>cantina</i> backed off the map, and my +future Spanish lessons will be under the wing of Doña +Luz. Me for her!”</p> +<p>“Avaricious young scalawag!” grunted Pike. “You’d +study African whistles and clicks and clacks if it blazed +trail to that lost gold deposit! Say, I sort of held the +others out there in front thinking I would let you get +acquainted with little Billie, and you waste the time +chinning about death in the desert, and dry camps to that +black-and-tan talking machine.”</p> +<p>Kit only laughed at him.</p> +<p>“A record breaker of a moon too!” grumbled the old +man. “Lord!––lord! at your age I’d crawled over hell +on a rotten rail to just sit alongside a girl like Billie––and +you pass her up for an old hen with a mustache, and +a gold trail!”</p> +<p>Kit Rhodes laughed some more as he got into the +saddle and headed for the Granados corral, singing:</p> +<table summary=''><tr><td> +<p class='cg'><i>Oh––I’ll cut off my long yellow hair<br /> +<span class='indent2'> </span>To dress in men’s array,<br /> +And go along with you, my dear<br /> +<span class='indent2'> </span>Your waiting man to be!</i></p> +</td></tr></table> +<p>He droned out the doleful and incongruous love ballad +of old lands, and old days, for the absurd reason that the +youth of the world in his own land beat in his blood, and +because in the night time one of the twinkling stars of +heaven had dropped down the sky and become a girl of +earth who touched a guitar and taught him the words +of a Spanish serenade,––in case he should find a Mexican +sweetheart along the border!</p> +<p>For to neither of the young, care-free things, had come +a glimmer of fore-vision of the long tragic days, treasure +trails and desert deaths, primitive devotions and +ungodly vengeance, in which the threads of their own +lives would be entangled before those two ever heard +the music of the patio again––together.</p> +<table summary=''><tr><td> +<p class='cg'><i>If in Holland fields I met a maid<br /> +<span class='indent2'> </span>All handsome fond and gay,<br /> +And I should chance to love her<br /> +<span class='indent2'> </span>What would my Mary say?</i><br /> +<br /> +<i>What would I say, dear Willie?<br /> +<span class='indent2'> </span>That I would love her too,<br /> +And I would step to the one side<br /> +<span class='indent2'> </span>That she might speak with you!</i></p> +</td></tr></table> +<p>“Yes, you would––not!” he stated in practical prose +to no one in particular. “Not if you were our girl, would +she, Pardner?”</p> +<p>Pardner tossed up his head in recognition of the comradeship +in the tone, and Kit Rhodes became silent, and +rode on to the corrals, happily smiling at some new +thoughts.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_III_A_VERIFIED_PROPHECY_OF_SEORITA_BILLIE' id='CHAPTER_III_A_VERIFIED_PROPHECY_OF_SEORITA_BILLIE'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER III</h2> +<h3>A VERIFIED PROPHECY OF SEÑORITA BILLIE</h3> +</div> +<p>That smile was yet with him when he saw the herd +and the vaqueros coming up from the water tanks, +and noted Conrad and Tomas Herrara talking together +beside Conrad’s automobile.</p> +<p>The beat of the many hoofs prevented the two men +from noting one horse near them, and words of Conrad +came to him clearly.</p> +<p>“It has to be that way. You to go instead of Miguel. +You have enough English, you can do it.”</p> +<p>Tomas Herrara muttered something, evidently reluctance, +for again Conrad’s words were heard.</p> +<p>“But think of the <i>dinero</i>, much of money to you! +And that fool swine will not see what is under his nose. +You can do it, sure you can! There is no danger. The +blame will be to him if it is found; my agent will see +to that. Not you but the gringo will be the one to answer +the law. You will know nothing.”</p> +<p>He spoke in Spanish rapidly, while both men watched +the approaching vaqueros.</p> +<p>The smile had gone from Kit’s face, and he was puzzled +to follow the words, or even trust his own ears.</p> +<p>“<i>Bueno,</i>” said Herrara with a nod of consent. “Since +Miguel is hurt–––”</p> +<p>“Whoa, Pardner,” sang out Rhodes, back of them +as he slid out of the saddle. “Good morning, gentlemen. +Do you say Miguel is hurt, Herrara? How comes +that?”</p> +<p>The face of Herrara went a curious gray, and his lips +blue and apparently stiff for he only murmured, “<i>Buenas +dias</i>, señor,” and gulped and stared at Conrad. But +the surprise of Conrad, while apparent, was easily accounted +for, and he was too well poised to be startled +unduly by any emergency.</p> +<p>“Hah! Is it you, Rhodes, so early? Yes, Miguel is +reported hurt over Poso Verde way. Not serious, but +for the fact that he was the one to go with you on the +horse shipment, and now another must go. Perhaps his +brother here.”</p> +<p>“Oh––ah––yes,” assented Rhodes thoughtfully. He +was not so old as Conrad, and quite aware he was not +so clever, and he didn’t know their game, so he strove +as he could to hold the meaning of what he had heard, +and ended rather lamely: “Well, too bad about Miguel, +but if you, Tomas, are going instead, you had better get +your war togs ready. We start tonight from the Junction, +and have three hours to get ready.”</p> +<p>“Three hours only!” again Herrara seemed to +weaken. To start in three hours a journey into the unknown +far East of the Americano was beyond his imaginings. +He shrugged his shoulders, tossed his hands outwards +in despair, and turned toward the barns.</p> +<p>Conrad looked after him in irritation, and then smiled +at Rhodes. He had a rather ingratiating smile, and it +the first time he had betrayed it to Kit.</p> +<p>“These explosive Latins,” he said derisively. “I +think I can make him reasonable, and you go forward +with your own preparations.”</p> +<p>He followed Herrara, leaving Kit staring after them +wondering. His glance then rested on the automobile, +and he noted that it had not merely come out of the +garage for the usual work of the day. It had been traveling +somewhere, for the wheels were crusted with mud––mud +not there at sunset yesterday. And in that section +of Pima there was no water to make mud nearer +than Poso Verde, and it was over there Miguel Herrara +had been hurt!</p> +<p>He had only three hours, and no time to investigate. +There were rumors of smuggling all along the line over +there, and strange conferences between Mexican statesmen +and sellers of Connecticut hardware of an explosive +nature. He recalled having heard that Singleton was +from Connecticut, or was it Massachusetts? Anyway, +it was over there at the eastern edge of the country somewhere, +and it was also where plots and counter plots were +pretty thick concerning ammunition; also they were more +complicated on the Mexican border. He wondered if +Singleton was as simple as he looked, for he certainly +was paying wages to a mixed lot. Also it was a cinch to +run any desirable contraband from Granados across to +La Partida and from there hellwards.</p> +<p>He wondered if Singleton knew? But Singleton had +a capable business manager, while he, Rhodes, was only +a range boss with the understanding that he adjust himself +to any work a white man might qualify for.</p> +<p>The mere fact that once he had sat at the family table +might not, in Singleton’s eyes, warrant him in criticizing +an approved manager, or directing suspicion towards +him. He might speak to Pike, but he realized that Pike +was not taken very seriously; only welcomed because +Billie liked him, and because an American ranch usually +had the open door for the old timers of his caliber.</p> +<p>Also Pike had told him plainly that he must not be +expected to mix up in the Mexican game for any reason +whatsoever.</p> +<p>“I reckon it’s up to us, Pardner,” he decided, as he +called directions to the different men loading the wagons +with oats and barley for the stock on the trail. There +were three mule teams ready for the railroad junction +where the cars were waiting on the siding, or would be +by night.</p> +<p>Some of the men were getting the mules straightened +out in the harness while others were roping horses in +the corral. It would take most of the home outfit to lead +and drive them to the railroad, which meant one lonely +and brief period of hilarity at the only joint where +“bootleg” whiskey could be secured by the knowing, and +a “movie” theater could add to other simple entertainments +for the gentle Juans of the ranges. Neither Conrad +nor Herrara were visible, and he presumed the latter +was making arrangements for the sudden and unexpected +departure from his family, but he knew he had not attempted +to ride home for a farewell greeting, because his +horse still stood near Conrad’s automobile where he had +first overheard that curious conversation between the two +men.</p> +<p>After a leisurely breakfast Pike was meandering towards +the stock yard on his mule with the intent to trail +along to the Junction with the boys. Rhodes, catching +sight of him, looked hopefully but unsuccessfully for Singleton. +The minutes were slipping by, and no definite +instructions had been given him concerning the three +car loads of horses. Did Conrad mean to leave every +detail until the last moment and make difficulties for the +new man? Was that the way he got rid of the Americans +he didn’t want? He recalled the prophecy of Billie +that he would not hold his job. Well, he would show +her!</p> +<p>With memories of the white and gold vision of the +previous night, and the guitar in the <i>sala</i>, and the moonlight +touching all to enchantment, he had fully decided +that he would not only hold the job, but on some future +day he would be business manager. And he’d find that +lost mine or know the reason why, and he would–––</p> +<p>For after all Kit Rhodes was only twenty-three and +all of life ahead of him for dreams! He was wondering +what he could fetch back from the East that would +be acceptable to a witchy elf of a butterfly girl who already +had, to his simple estimate, all the requisites of a +princess royal.</p> +<p>Juanito came loping past, and Rhodes asked for his +father.</p> +<p>“I am myself looking for him,” said the boy. “He has +there on his horse all the things for Tio Miguel, but +Miguel not coming, and I wonder who goes? Maybe it +will be me. What you think?” he asked hopefully.</p> +<p>Kit did not answer, for Juanito’s mention of the articles +for Miguel brought from home by Tomas, and still +fastened to the back of the saddle, drew his attention to +the articles tied there––some clothing badly wrapped, a +pair of black shoes tied together with brown strings, +and under them, yet plainly visible, a canvas water bag.</p> +<p>There was nothing unusual in a water bag or a canteen +tied back of any saddle in the dry lands, it was the +sensible thing to do, but Kit found himself staring at this +particular water bag stupidly, remembering where he had +seen it last. It had been only partly full then, but now +it was plump and round as if water-filled; yet one glance +told him it was not wet, and moreover, he had noted the +day before a hole in the side tied up in a hard knot by +twine, and there was the knot!</p> +<p>Yet it might be a stock of <i>pinole</i>, parched corn, as evidence +of Miguel’s forethought against privation on the +long eastern trail. He could think of several reasonable +things to account for an old water bag tied to a Mexican’s +saddle, but reason did not prevent his glance turning +to it again and again.</p> +<p>The fear in Narcisco’s eyes came back to him, and his +attempt to cover his harmless playthings at the coming +of the unexpected American. He wondered–––</p> +<p>“Say, Bub, I’ve got ten dollars to invest in some little +trinket for Billie boy, and I want you to put it down in +your jeans and invest it in whatever it will cover,” said +Captain Pike at his elbow, clinking the silver coin meditatively. +“You’ll have time to see plenty attractive things +for the money there in the streets of New York, or Baltimore, +or whichever of the dock towns you’ll be heading +for.”</p> +<p>Rhodes accepted the coin, absently frowning.</p> +<p>“That’s one of the dark secrets not yet divulged by +this curious management,” he growled. “I’m to go, or +so I was told, but have been given no instructions. +Where’s Singleton?”</p> +<p>“Just rounded up for breakfast.”</p> +<p>“Is he coming down here to the corrals?”</p> +<p>“Not that I could notice. Pedro got in from the Junction +with last Sunday’s papers, and he and Billie have the +picture sheets spread around, having a weekly feast.”</p> +<p>Kit strode over to his mount, and then halted, glancing +towards the house a half mile away, and then at the +telephone poles along the wide lane.</p> +<p>“Say, there’s a telephone somewhere down here at +the works, connecting with the hacienda, isn’t there?”</p> +<p>“Sure, in that hallway between the two adobes where +the bunk house ends and offices begin.”</p> +<p>Kit started briskly towards the long bunk house, and +then turned to Pike.</p> +<p>“Do me a favor, Captain. Stay right there till I get +back, and don’t let anyone take that Herrara horse away, +or his load!”</p> +<p>“All right, but load!––why, the spotted rat hasn’t +got a load for a jack rabbit, load!” and Pike sniffed disdain +at the little knobs of baggage dangling from the +rawhide strings. He didn’t think the subdued animal +needed watching––still, if Kit said so–––</p> +<p>At the same time Kit was calling the house, and hearing +in reply a soft whistle of the meadow lark, and then +a girl’s laugh.</p> +<p>“Your music is good to listen to, Lark-child,” he +called back, “and your ears are perfectly good at telling +who’s who, but this is a strictly business day, and it is +Mr. Singleton I need to speak with.”</p> +<p>“Still holding your job, or asking for your time?” +came the mocking voice.</p> +<p>“You bet I’m holding my job, also I am on it, and +want the boss.”</p> +<p>“Well, sometimes you know the boys call me the +boss. What can we do for you, Mr. Kit Rhodes?”</p> +<p>“I’ll use all three of my Spanish cuss words in a +minute, if you don’t be reasonable,” he thundered.</p> +<p>“Is that a bribe?” came sweetly over the wire, and +when he muttered something impatiently, she laughed and +told him it was not fair to use another language when he +had promised Spanish.</p> +<p>“Listen to me, young lady, if I can’t get Singleton on +the wire I’ll get on a horse and go up there!”</p> +<p>“And you listen to me, young man, it wouldn’t do you +a bit of good, for just now he is nearly having a fit, and +writing telegrams about something more important than +the horse corrals.”</p> +<p>“There is nothing more important this day and date,” +insisted Kit.</p> +<p>“Well, if you were as strictly a white dove advocate +as Papa Singleton is, and as neutral, and then saw a full +page Sunday supplement of your pet picture fraulein, +working for your pet charity and sifting poison into hospital +bandages and powdered glass in jellies for the soldiers +of the Allies, I reckon you would change your +mind.”</p> +<p>“Powdered glass!––in <i>feed</i>!” repeated Kit, stunned at +the words and the sudden thought they suggested. “Great +God, girl, you don’t have to go to the eastern papers for +<i>that</i>! You’ve got the same trick right here in Granados +this minute! Why––damn you!”</p> +<p>The receiver fell from his hand as a crushing blow was +dealt him from the door at his back. He heard a girl’s +scream in the distance as he grappled with Conrad and +saved himself a second blow from the automobile wrench +in the manager’s hands. It fell to the tiles between them, +and Rhodes kicked it to one side as he struck and struck +again the white, furious face of Conrad.</p> +<p>“The wrench! Tomas, the wrench! Give it to him! +The Americano would murder me!” shouted Conrad.</p> +<p>Tomas had other things to think of. He had heard +as much as Conrad of the telephone discourse, and was +aware of his pinto standing placidly not fifty feet away, +with all the damning evidence in the case tied to the back +of the saddle!</p> +<p>Juanito, however, ran like a cat at his master’s call +and caught up the wrench, but halted when Pike closed +on his shoulder and pressed a cold little circle of blue +steel against his ribs.</p> +<p>“Not this time, <i>muchacho</i>!” he shrilled, “drop it! +This is a man’s game, and you’re out.”</p> +<p>The men came running, and others attempted to interfere, +but the little old man waved the gun at them and +ordered them to keep their distance.</p> +<p>“No crowding the mourners!” he admonished them +gleefully. “I’ve a hunch your man started it, and my +man will finish it. I don’t know what it’s about, Kit, but +give him hell on suspicion! Go to it, boy,––do it again! +Who-ee!––that was a sock-dolager! Keep him off you, +Kit, he’s a gouger, and has the weight. Give it to him +standing, and give it to him good! That’s it! Ki-yi! +Hell’s bells and them a-chiming!”</p> +<p>For the finale of that whirl of the two striking, staggering, +cursing men, was unexpectedly dramatic. They +had surged out into the open, but Conrad, little by little +and step by step, or rather stagger by stagger, had given +way before the mallet-like precision of the younger man’s +fists until Kit’s final blow seemed actually to lift him off +his feet and land him––standing––against the adobe +wall. An instant he quivered there, and then fell forward, +glassy eyed and limp.</p> +<p>Singleton’s car came whirling down the lane. Billie +leaped from it before it stopped, and ran in horror to +the prone figure. One of the older Mexicans tried to +ward her off from the sight.</p> +<p>“No good, señorita, it is the death of him,” he said +gently. “One stroke like that on the heart and it is––<i>adios</i>!”</p> +<p>“What in the name of God––” began Singleton, and +Kit wiped the blood from his eyes and faced him, staggering +and breathless.</p> +<p>“Get him water! Get busy!” he ordered. “I don’t +think he’s done for, not unless he has some mighty weak +spot he should have had labelled before he waded into +this.”</p> +<p>The blood was still trickling from the cut in his head +made by the wrench, and he presented an unholy appearance +as they stared at him.</p> +<p>“I’ll explain, Singleton, for I reckon you are white. +I’ll––after while–––”</p> +<p>“You’ll explain nothing to me!” retorted Singleton +“If the man dies you’ll explain to a jury and a judge; +otherwise you’d better take yourself out of this country.”</p> +<p>Kit blinked at those who were lifting Conrad and +listening to his heart, which evidently had not stopped +permanently.</p> +<p>“But give me a chance, man!” persisted Rhodes. “I +need some mending done on this head of mine,––then +I’ll clear it up. Why, the evidence is right here––powdered +glass for the stock at the far end of the trail––Herrara +knows––Conrad’s game––and–––”</p> +<p>He did not know why words were difficult and the +faces moved in circles about him. The blood soaking his +shirt and blouse, and dripping off his sleeve was cause +enough, but he did not even know that.</p> +<p>“Take him away, Captain Pike,” said Singleton coldly. +“He is not wanted any longer on either of the ranches. +It’s the last man I hire, Conrad can do it in future.”</p> +<p>“Conrad, eh?” grunted Kit weakly, “you’re a nice +easy mark for the frankfurter game,––you and your +pacifist bunch of near-traitors! Why man–––”</p> +<p>But Singleton waved him away, and followed the +men who were carrying Conrad to the bunk house.</p> +<p>“All right, <i>all</i> right! But take care you don’t meet +with a nastier accident than that before you are done with +this game!” he said shaking his fist warningly after Singleton, +and then he staggered to his horse where Pike was +waiting for him.</p> +<p>He got in the saddle, and reeled there a moment, conscious +of hostile, watchful eyes,––and one girl’s face all +alone in the blur.</p> +<p>“Say,” he said, “I heard you scream. You thought +it was you I swore at. You’re wrong there. But you +are some little prophetess,––<i>you</i> are! The job’s gone, +and Herrara’s got away with the evidence, and the jig’s +up! But it wasn’t you I cussed at––not––at––all! +Come on, Pike. This new ventilator in my head is playing +hell its own way. Come on––let’s go by-bye!”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_IV_IN_THE_ADOBE_OF_PEDRO_VIJIL' id='CHAPTER_IV_IN_THE_ADOBE_OF_PEDRO_VIJIL'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2> +<h3>IN THE ADOBE OF PEDRO VIJIL</h3> +</div> +<p>“There ain’t no such animal,” decided Kit Rhodes +seated on the edge of the bed in Pedro Vigil’s +adobe. His head was bandaged, his face a trifle pale and +the odor of medicaments in the shadowy room of the +one deep-barred window. “No, Captain, no man, free, +white and twenty-one <i>could</i> be such a fool. Can’t Singleton +see that if Conrad’s story was true he’d have the +constable after me for assault with intent to kill? He’s +that sort!”</p> +<p>“Well, Singleton thinks Conrad would be justified in +having you prosecuted, and jailed, and fined, and a few +other things, but for the reputation of Granados they let +you down easy. You know it’s <i>the</i> dovery for the Pass-up-the-fists +of this section, and what the Arizona papers +would do would be comic if they ever got hold of the +fact that Singleton picked a new bird for the dove cage, +and the dratted thing changed before their eyes to a +fractious game rooster swinging a right like the hind leg +of a mule! No, Bub, we’re orderly, peaceable folks +around here, so for the sake of our reputation Singleton +has prevailed on his manager to be merciful to you, +and Conrad has in true pacifist spirit let himself be prevailed +upon.”</p> +<p>“Which means,” grinned Kit, “that I’m to be put off +my guard, and done for nicely and quietly some moonless +night when I take the trail! And he reports me either +drunk or temporarily insane, does he? Well, when the +next time comes I’ll change that gentleman’s mind.”</p> +<p>“Shucks, Bub! Thank a fool’s luck that your skull +was only scratched, and don’t go planning future wars. +I tell you we are peace doves around here, and you are +a stray broncho kicking up an undesirable dust in our +front yard. Here is your coin. Singleton turned it over +to me and I receipted for it, and we have enough between +us to hit the Sonora trail, and there’s not a bit of use +in your hanging around here. You have no evidence. +You are a stranger who ambled in, heard a sensational +newspaper report of anti-ally criminal intent, and on the +spot accused the highly respectable Granados rancho of +indulging in that same variety of hellishness! Now there +is your case in a nutshell, Bub, and you wouldn’t get the +authorities to believe you in a thousand years!”</p> +<p>“What about you?”</p> +<p>“Oh, I have just little enough sense to believe your +hunch is right, but that won’t get you anywhere. They +think I’m loco too! I’ve an idea there is a lot more and +rottener activities down south of the line with which our +Teutonic peace arbitrator is mixed up. But he’s been on +this job five years, all the trails are his, and an outsider +can’t get a look-in! Now Miguel Herrara has been doing +gun-running across the border for someone, and +Miguel was not only arrested by the customs officer, but +Miguel was killed two nights ago––shot with his own +gun so that it looks like suicide. Suicide nothing! His +chief, whoever he is, was afraid Miguel would blunder +or weaken under government persuasion, so Miguel was +let out of the game. That case is closed, and no evidence +against anyone. I reckon everyone knows that the guns +and ammunition sneaked over is headed for Rancho Soledad. +The owner of Soledad, José Perez, is the valued +friend of our nice little Conrad, and it happens that Conrad +left Granados this morning for that direction, ostensibly +to negotiate with the political powers of Sonora +concerning a military guard for La Partida in case revolutionary +stragglers should ride north for fresh saddle-horses. +All appeals to the neutral chair warmers at +Washington wins us no protection from that source;––they +only have guns and men enough to guard some +cherished spots in Texas.”</p> +<p>“Well, if the Teuton is able for a trail I reckon he +got nothing worse in the scrap than I, even if he did look +like a job for the undertaker. That fellow travels on the +strength of his belly and not the strength of his heart.”</p> +<p>“So you say,” observed Pike, grinning, “but then again +there are others of us who travel on nerve and gall and +never get any further! Just put this in your pipe, Bub, +and don’t forget it: Conrad is <i>organised</i> for whatever +deviltry he is up to! There is no ‘happen so’ in his +schemes. He is a cog in some political wheel, and it’s a +fifty-fifty gamble as to whether the wheel is German or +Mexican, but it is no little thing, and is not to be despised.”</p> +<p>“But I can’t see how Singleton, if Singleton is square +even–––”</p> +<p>“Singleton is a narrow gauge disciple of Universal +Peace by decree––which, translated, means plain damn +fool. Lord, boy, if a pack of prairie wolves had a man +surrounded, would he fold his hands with the hope that +his peaceful attitude would appeal to their better instincts +or would he reach for a gun and give them protective +pills? The man of sense never goes without his gun in +wolf land, but Singleton––well, in peace times he could +have lived a long lifetime, and no one ever guessed what +a weak sister he was, but he’s sure out of place on the +border.”</p> +<p>“I’m tired wearing this halo,” observed Rhodes, referring +to the white handkerchief around his head. “Also +some of the dope you gave me seems to be evaporating +from my system, and I feel like hitting the Piman breeze. +Can we strike trail tomorrow?”</p> +<p>“We cannot. Doña Luz has been dosing out the +dope for you––Mexican women are natural doctors with +their own sort of herbs––and she says three days before +you go in the sun. I’ve a notion she sort of let the Mexicans +think that you were likely to cash in, and you bled +so like a stuck pig that it was easy enough to believe the +worst.”</p> +<p>“Perhaps that’s why Conrad felt safe in leaving me +outside of jail. With Doña Luz as doctor, and a non-professional +like you as assistant, I reckon he thought +my chance of surviving that monkey wrench assault was +slim, mighty slim!”</p> +<p>“Y––yes,” agreed Pike, “under ordinary conditions +he might have been justified in such surmise, but that +would be figuring on the normal thickness of the normal +civilized skull, but yours––why, Bub, all I’m puzzling +over now is how it happens that the monkey wrench was +only twisted a mite, not broke at all!”</p> +<p>“You scandalous old varmint!” grinned Kit. “Go on +with your weak-minded amusements, taking advantage +of a poor lone cripple,––refused by the army, and a victim +of the latest German atrocity! I suppose––I suppose,”––he +continued darkly, “everyone on and around Granados +agrees that I was the villain in the assault?”</p> +<p>“I couldn’t say as to that,” returned Pike judicially. +“Doña Luz would dose you, and plaster you, just the +same if you had killed a half dozen instead of knocking +the wind out of one. She’s pretty fine and all woman, +but naturally since they regard you as my <i>companero</i> they +are shy about expressing themselves when I’m around––all +except Singleton––and you heard him.”</p> +<p>“Good and plenty,” agreed Kit. “Say, I’m going to +catch up on sleep while I’ve a chance, and you rustle +along and get any tag ends of things needed for the trail. +I’m going to strike for Mesa Blanca, as that will take us +up into the country of that Alisal mine. If we go broke +there is Mesa Blanca ranch work to fall back on for a +grub stake, but from what I hear we can dry wash enough +to buy corn and flour, and the hills are full of burro meat. +We’ll browse around until we either strike it rich, or get +fed up with trying. Anyway, <i>Companero</i>, we will be in +a quiet, peaceful pastoral land, close to nature, and out +of reach of Teuton guile and monkey wrenches. <i>Buenas +noches</i>, señor. I’m asleep!”</p> +<p>Pike closed the door, and went from the semi-dark of +the adobe out into the brilliant sunshine where Billie, +with a basket, was waiting under the <i>ramada</i> with +Merced, and Merced looked gloomy lest Pedro should be +blamed by Señor Singleton for practically turning his +family out of the adobe that it might be given over to +the loco Americano.</p> +<p>“Tomorrow, can he go?” she asked hopefully. “Me, +I have a fear. Not before is the adobe here watched by +hidden men at night, and that is very bad! Because that +he is friend to you I say to everybody that I think the +Americano is dying in our house, but today he talks, +also he is laughing. No more sick?”</p> +<p>“No more sick, sure not, but it will be one more day. +A man does not bleed like a gored bull and ride the next +day under a sky hot enough to fry eggs. The tea of +Doña Luz drove off the fever, and he only sleeps and +talks, and sleeps again, but sick? Not a bit!”</p> +<p>“Nor––nor sorry, I reckon?” ventured Billie.</p> +<p>“Why, no child, not that I could notice. That scalawag +doesn’t seem to have much conscience concerning his +behavior.”</p> +<p>“Or his language!” she added.</p> +<p>“Sure, that was some invocation he offered up! But +just between pals, Billie, you ought to have been in hearing.”</p> +<p>“I––I don’t suppose he even remembers that I was,” +she remarked, and then after a silence, “or––or even +mentioned––us?”</p> +<p>“Why, no, Billie. You made the right guess when you +sized him up and thought he couldn’t hold the job. He +certainly doesn’t belong, Billie, for this ranch is the homing +nest of the peace doves, and he’s just an ungainly +young game rooster starting out with a dare against the +world, and only himself for a backer. Honest,––if that +misguided youth had been landed in jail, I don’t reckon +there’s anyone in Arizona with little enough sense to bail +him out.”</p> +<p>“Likely not,” said Billie. “Well, there’s the basket +from Tia Luz, and I might as well go home.”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_V_AN_ADIOSAND_AFTER' id='CHAPTER_V_AN_ADIOSAND_AFTER'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER V</h2> +<h3>AN “ADIOS”––AND AFTER</h3> +</div> +<p>Two days later in the blue clear air of the Arizona +morning a sage hen slipped with her young through +the coarse grass by the irrigation ditch, and a flock of +quail raised and fluttered before the quick rhythmic beat +of a loping horse along the trail in the mesquite thicket.</p> +<p>The slender gallant figure of his rider leaned forward +looking, listening at every turn, and at the forks of the +trail where a clump of squat mesquite and giant sahuarro +made a screen, she checked the horse, and held her breath.</p> +<p>“Good Pat, good horse!” she whispered. “They’ve +got nothing that can run away from us. We’ll show +them!”</p> +<p>Then a man’s quavering old voice came to her through +the winding trail of the arroya. It was lifted tunefully +insistent in an old-time song of the mining camps:</p> +<table summary=''><tr><td> +<p class='cg'><i>Oh, Mexico! we’re coming, Mexico!<br /> +Our six mule team,<br /> +Will soon be seen,<br /> +On the trail to Mexico!</i></p> +</td></tr></table> +<p>“We made it, Pat!” confided the girl grimly. “We +made it. Quiet now––quiet!”</p> +<p>She peered out through the green mesquite as Captain +Pike emerged from the west arroya on a gray burro, +herding two other pack animals ahead of him into the +south trail.</p> +<p>He rode jauntily, his old sombrero at a rakish angle, +his eyes bright with enthusiasm supplied by that which +he designated as a morning “bracer,” and his long gray +locks bobbed in the breeze as he swayed in the saddle and +droned his cheerful epic of the trail:</p> +<table summary=''><tr><td> +<p class='cg'><i>A––and when we’ve been there long enough,<br /> +And back we wish to go,<br /> +We’ll fill our pockets with the shining dust<br /> +And then leave Mexico!<br /> +Oh––Mexico!<br /> +Good-bye my Mexico!<br /> +Our six mule team will then be seen<br /> +On the trail from Mexico.</i></p> +</td></tr></table> +<p>“Hi there! you Balaam––get into the road and keep +a-going, you ornery little rat-tailed son-of-a-gun! Pick +up your feet and travel, or I’ll yank out your back bone +and make a quirt out of it! For–––”</p> +<table summary=''><tr><td> +<p class='cg'><i>My name was Captain Kidd as I sailed<br /> +<span class='indent6'> </span>As I sailed,<br /> +My name was Captain Kidd,<br /> +<span class='indent6'> </span>As I sailed!<br /> +My name was Captain Kidd<br /> +And most wickedly I di-i-id<br /> +All holy laws forbid<br /> +<span class='indent6'> </span>As I sailed!</i></p> +</td></tr></table> +<p>The confessor of superlative wickedness droned his +avowal in diminishing volume as the burros pattered +along the white dust of the valley road, then the curve +to the west hid them, and all was silence but for the rustle +of the wind in the mesquite and the far bay of Singleton’s +hounds circling a coyote.</p> +<p>But Pat pricked up his ears, and lifted his head as if +feeling rather than hearing the growing thud of coming +hoofs. The girl waited until they were within fifty feet, +when she pursed up her lips and whistled the call of the +meadow lark. It sounded like a fairy bugle call across +the morning, and the roan was halted quickly at the +forks of the road.</p> +<p>“Howdy, señorita?” he called softly. “I can’t see +you, but your song beats the birds. Got a flag of truce? +Willing to parley with the enemy?”</p> +<p>Then she emerged, eyeing him sulkily.</p> +<p>“You were going without seeing me!” she stated with +directness, and without notice of the quizzical smile of +comradeship.</p> +<p>“Certainly was,” he agreed. “When I got through +the scrap with your disciple of <i>kultur</i>, my mug didn’t +strike me as the right decoration for a maiden’s bower. +I rode out of the scrap with my scratches, taking joy +and comfort in the fact that he had to be carried.”</p> +<p>“There was no reason for your being so––so brutal!” +she decided austerely.</p> +<p>“Lord love you, child, I didn’t need a reason––I only +wanted an excuse. Give me credit! I got away for +fear I’d go loco and smash Singleton for interfering.”</p> +<p>“Papa Phil only did his duty, standing for peace.”</p> +<p>“Huh, let the Neutral League do it! The trouble with +Singleton is he hasn’t brains enough to lubricate a balance +wheel,––he can’t savvy a situation unless he has it printed +in a large-type tract. Conrad was scared for fear I’d +stumbled on a crooked trail of his and would tell the +boss, so he beat me to it with the lurid report that I +made an assault on him! This looks like it––not!” +and he showed the slashes in his sombrero to make room +for the blue banda around his head. “Suppose you tell +that Hun of yours to carry a gun like a real hombre instead +of the tools of a second-story man. The neighbors +could hear a gun, and run to my rescue.”</p> +<p>The girl regarded his flippancy with disapproval.</p> +<p>“He isn’t my Hun,” she retorted. “I could worry +along without him on our map,––but after all, I don’t +know a single definite thing against him. Anyway, it’s +decided I’ve got to go away somewhere to school and be +out of the ranch squabbles. Papa Phil thinks I get in +bad company out here.”</p> +<p>“Meaning me?”</p> +<p>“Well, he <i>said</i> Captain Pike was demoralizing to the +youthful mind. He didn’t mention you. And Cap certainly +did go the limit yesterday!”</p> +<p>“How so?”</p> +<p>“Well, he went to the Junction for his outfit stuff–––”</p> +<p>“Yes, and never showed up at the adobe until the +morning star was in the sky!”</p> +<div class='figtag'> +<a name='linki_2' id='linki_2'></a> +</div> +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/illus-076.jpg' alt='' title='' width='373' height='573' /><br /> +<p class='caption'> +“You poor kid, you have a hard time with the disreputables you pick up.”<br /> +</p> +</div> +<p>“I know,” she confessed. “I went with him. We +stayed to see a Hart picture at the theater, and had the +time of our young lives. At supper I announced that I +was going to adopt Cap as a grandfather,––and then of +course he had to go and queer me by filling up on some +rank whiskey he had smuggled in with the other food! +My stars!––he was put to bed singing that he’d ‘Hang his +harp on a willow tree, and be off to the wars again’––You +needn’t laugh!”</p> +<p>But he did laugh, his blue eyes twinkling at her recital.</p> +<p>“You poor kid! You have a hard time with the disreputables +you pick up. Sure they didn’t warn you +against speaking to this reprobate?”</p> +<p>“Sure nothing!” was the boyish reply. “I was to be +docked a month’s spending money if I dared go near +Pedro Vijil’s adobe again while you were there, which +was very foolish of Papa Phil!” she added judicially. +“I reckon he forgot they tried that before.”</p> +<p>“And what happened?”</p> +<p>“I went down and borrowed double the amount from +old Estevan, the trader at the Junction, and gave him an +order against the ranch. Then Cap and I sneaked out +a couple of three-year-olds and raced them down in the +cottonwood flats against some colts brought down by an +old Sierra Blanca Apache. We backed our nags with +every peso, and that old brown murderer won! But Cap +and I had a wonderful day while our coin lasted, and––and +you were going away without saying good-bye!”</p> +<p>Kit Rhodes, who had blankly stated that he owned his +horse and saddle and little beyond, looked at the spoiled +plucky heiress of Granados ranches, and the laughter +went out of his eyes.</p> +<p>She was beyond reason loveable even in her boyish +disdain of restriction, and some day she would come +back from the schools a very finished product, and thank +the powers that be for having sent her out of knowledge +of happy-go-lucky chums of the ranges.</p> +<p>Granados ranches had been originally an old Spanish +grant reaching from a branch of the intermittent Rio +Altar north into what is now Arizona, and originally +was about double the size of Rhode Island. It was +roughly divided into the home or hacienda ranch in +Arizona, and La Partida, the cattle range portion, reaching +far south into Sonora. Even the remnant of the +grant, if intelligently managed, would earn an income +satisfactory for a most extravagant princess royal such +as its present chatelaine seemed to Rhodes.</p> +<p>But he had noted dubiously that the management was +neither intelligent nor, he feared, square. The little +rancherias scattered over it in the fertile valleys, were +worked on the scratch gravel, ineffective Mexic method +by the Juans and Pedros whose family could always +count on mesquite beans, and <i>camotes</i> if the fields failed. +There was seed to buy each year instead of raising it. +There was money invested in farming machinery, and a +bolt taken at will from a thresher to mend a plow or +a buggy as temporarily required. The flocks of sheep on +the Arizona hills were low grade. The cattle and horse +outfits were south in La Partida, and the leakage was +beyond reason, even in a danger zone of the border land.</p> +<p>All this Kit had milled around and around many times +in the brief while he had ranged La Partida. A new deal +was needed and needed badly, else Wilfreda Bernard +would have debts instead of revenue if Singleton let +things drift much longer. Her impish jest that she was +a damsel in distress in need of a valiant knight was +nearer to truth than she suspected. He had an idiotic +hungry desire to be that knight, but his equipment of one +horse, one saddle, and one sore head appeared inadequate +for the office.</p> +<p>Thus Kit Rhodes sat his horse and looked at her, and +saw things other than the red lips of the girl, and the +chiding gray eyes, and the frank regret at his going.</p> +<p>It was more profitable not to see that regret, or let it +thrill a man in that sweet warm way, especially not if the +man chanced to be a drifting ranger. She was only a +gallant little girl with a genius for friendships, and her +loyalty to Pike extended to Pike’s chum––that was what +Rhodes told himself!</p> +<p>“Yes,” he agreed, “I was going without any tooting +of horns. No use in Cap Pike and me hanging around, +and getting you in bad with your outfit.”</p> +<p>“As if I care!” she retorted.</p> +<p>“You might some day,” he said quietly. “School may +make a lot of difference; that, and changed surroundings +for a year or two. But some day you will be your own +manager, and if I’m still on the footstool and can be of +service––just whistle, señorita.”</p> +<p>“Sure!” she agreed cheerfully. “I’ll whistle the lark +call, and you’ll know I need you, so that’s settled, and +we’ll always be––be friends, Trail-hunter.”</p> +<p>“We’ll always be friends, Lark-child.”</p> +<p>“I wanted Cap Pike to let me in on this prospecting +trip, wanted to put in money,” she said rather hesitant, +“and he turned me down cold, except for a measly ten +dollars, ‘smoke money’ he called it. I reckon he only +took that to get rid of me, which I don’t call friendly, +do you? And if things should go crooked with him, +and he––well––sort of needs help to get out, you’ll let +me know, won’t you?”</p> +<p>“Yes, if it seems best,” he agreed, “but you won’t +be here; you’ll be shipped to a school, <i>pronto</i>!”</p> +<p>“I won’t be so far off the map that a letter can’t reach +me. Cap Pike won’t ever write, but I thought maybe +you–––”</p> +<p>“Sure,” agreed Rhodes easily. “We’ll send out a +long yell for help whenever we get stuck.”</p> +<p>She eyed him darkly and without faith.</p> +<p>“Wish I knew how to make that certain,” she confessed. +“You’re only dodging me with any kind of a +promise to keep me quiet, just as Cap did. I know! I’m +jealous, too, because you’re taking a trail I’ve always +wanted to take with Cap, and they won’t let me because +I’m a girl.”</p> +<p>“Cheer up! When you are boss of the range you can +outfit any little <i>pasear</i> you want to take, but you and I +won’t be in the same class then, Lark-child.”</p> +<p>“Are you really going it blind, trailing with Cap into +the Painted Hills after that fascinating gold legend?” +she demanded. “Or have you some inside trail blazed +for yourself? Daddy Pike is the best ever, but he always +goes broke, and if he isn’t broke, he has a jug at his +saddle horn, so–––”</p> +<p>“Oh it’s only a little jug this time, and he’s had a fare-you-well +drink out of it with everyone in sight, so there’s +only one hilarious evening left in the jug now. Just +enough for a gladsome memory of civilization.”</p> +<p>“Are you in deep on this prospect plan?” she persisted.</p> +<p>“Well, not that you could notice. That is, I’ve got a +three months’ job offered me down at Whitely’s; that will +serve the captain as headquarters to range from until +we add to our stake. Whitely is rounding up stock for +the Allies down Mesa Blanca way, and Pike will feel at +home there. Don’t you worry, I’ll keep an eye on Pike. +He is hilariously happy to get into that region with a +partner.”</p> +<p>“I don’t like it,” she grumbled at him with sulky gray +eyes. “Pedro Vijil just came back from the south, and +brought his sister’s family from San Rafael. They’re +refugees from the Federals because their men joined +Ramon Rotil, the rebel leader, and Merced is crying herself +crazy over the tales of war they tell. One of their +girls was stolen, and the mother and Tia Luz are both +crying over that. So Papa Phil says he’s going to send +me away where I won’t hear such horrors. I wish I was +a man, and I’d join the army and get a chance to go over +and fight.”</p> +<p>“Huh!” grunted Rhodes skeptically, “some more of +us had hopes! Our army officers are both praying and +cursing to get a chance to do the same thing, but they +are not getting it! So you and I, little girl, will wait till +some one pitches a bomb into that dovery on the Potomac. +Then we’ll join the volunteers and swarm over after our +people.”</p> +<p>“Oh, yes, <i>you</i> can! Men can do anything they like. I +told you I was jealous.”</p> +<p>“Never mind, Lark-child,” he returned soothingly. +“If I get over with a gun, you can come along and toot +a horn. There now, that’s a bargain, and you can practice +tooting the lark’s call until the time comes.”</p> +<p>“I reckon I’ll have plenty of time to toot myself black +in the face before you show up again at Granados,” she +prophesied ruefully, and he laughed.</p> +<p>“Whistle an’ I’ll come to you, Lassie,” he said with +sudden recklessness, “and that’s for <i>adios</i>, Billie.”</p> +<p>He held out his hand.</p> +<p>“That’s enough, Rhodes,” said a voice back of them, +and Singleton walked forward. “When you got your +time, you were supposed to leave Granados. Is this what +you’ve been hanging around for during the past week?”</p> +<p>Rhodes flamed red to his hair as he stared down at +the elder man.</p> +<p>“I reckon I’ll not answer that now, Mr. Singleton,” +he said quietly. “You may live to see you made a mistake. +I hope you do, but you’re traveling with a rotten +bunch, and they are likely to use a knife or a rope on +you any time you’ve played the goat long enough for +them to get their innings. I’m going without any grudge, +but if I was an insurance agent, trying to save money for +my company, I’d sure pass you by as an unsafe bet! +Keep on this side of the line, Singleton, while the revolution +is whirling, and whatever you forget, don’t forget +I said it! <i>Adios</i>, señorita, and––good luck!”</p> +<p>“Good luck, Kit,” she half whispered, “and <i>adios</i>!”</p> +<p>She watched him as he rode away, watched him as he +halted at the turn of the trail and waved his hand, and +Singleton was quietly observing her the while. She +frowned as she turned and caught him at it.</p> +<p>“You thought he waited here, or planned to––to +meet me,” she flared. “He was too square to tell you +the truth, but it was I rode out here to say good-bye, rode +out and held him up! But I did not reckon anyone would +try to insult him for it!”</p> +<p>Her stepfather regarded her grimly. She was angry, +and very near to tears.</p> +<p>“Time you had your breakfast,” he observed, “and +all signs indicate I should have sent you East last year, +and kept you out of the promiscuous mixups along the +border. It’s the dumping ground for all sorts of stray +adventurers, and no place for a girl to ride alone.”</p> +<p>“He seemed to think I am as able to look after myself +as you,” she retorted. “You aren’t fair to him because +you take the word of Conrad, but Conrad lies, and I’m +glad he got thrashed good and plenty! Now I’ve got +that off my mind, I’ll go eat a cheerful breakfast.”</p> +<p>Singleton walked silent beside her back to where his +horse was grazing by the roadside.</p> +<p>“Huh!” grunted the girl with frank scorn. “So you +got out of the saddle to spy? Haven’t you some black-and-tan +around the ranch to do your dirty work?”</p> +<p>“It’s just as well to be civil till you know what you +are talking about,” he reminded her with a sort of +trained patience. “I came out without my breakfast just +to keep the ranchmen from thinking what Tia Luz thinks. +She told me I’d find that fellow waiting for you. I didn’t +believe it, but I see she is not so far wrong.”</p> +<p>He spoke without heat or feeling, and his tone was +that of quiet discussion with a man or boy, not at all +that of a guardian to a girl. His charge was evidently +akin to the horse ranch of Granados as described by the +old ranger: Singleton had acquired them, but never understood +them.</p> +<p>“Look here,” said his protégée with boyish roughness, +“that Dutchman sees everything crooked, especially if +there’s an American in range, and he prejudices you. +Why don’t you wake up long enough to notice that he’s +framing some excuse to run off every decent chap who +comes on the place? I knew Rhodes was too white to be +let stay. I saw that as soon as he landed, and I told +him so! What I can’t understand is that you won’t +see it.”</p> +<p>“A manager has to have a free hand, Billie, or else be +let go,” explained Singleton. “Conrad knows horses, he +knows the market, and is at home with the Mexicans. +Also he costs less than we used to pay, and that is an item +in a bad year.”</p> +<p>“I’ll bet we lose enough cattle to his friends to make +up the difference,” she persisted. “Rhodes was right +when he called them a rotten bunch.”</p> +<p>“Let us hope that when you return from school you +will have lost the major portion of your unsavory vocabulary,” +he suggested. “That will be worth a herd of +cattle.”</p> +<p>“It would be worth another herd to see you wake up +and show you had one good fight in you!” she retorted. +“Conrad has all of the ranch outfit locoed but me; that’s +why he passes on this school notion to you. He wants +me out of sight.”</p> +<p>“I should have been more decided, and insisted that +you go last year. Heaven knows you need it badly +enough,” sighed Singleton, ignoring her disparaging comment +on his own shortcomings. And then as they rode +under the swaying fronds of the palm drive leading to +the ranch house he added, “Those words of your bronco +busting friend concerning the life insurance risk sounded +like a threat. I wonder what he meant by it?”</p> +<p>The telephone bell on the Granados Junction line was +ringing when they entered the patio. Singleton glanced +at the clock.</p> +<p>“A night letter probably,” he remarked. “Go get your +coffee, child, it’s a late hour for breakfast.”</p> +<p>Billie obeyed, sulkily seating herself opposite Tia Luz––who +was bolt upright behind the coffee urn, with a +mien expressing dignified disapproval. She inhaled a +deep breath for forceful speech, but Billie was ahead of +her.</p> +<p>“So it was you! You were the spy, and sent him after +me!”</p> +<p>“<i>Madre de Dios!</i> and why not?” demanded the competent +Luz. “You stealing your own horse at the dawn to +go with the old Captain Pike. I ask of you what kind of +a girl is that? Also Mercedes was here last night tearing +her hair because of the girls, her sister’s daughters, stolen +away over there in Sonora. Well! is that not enough? +That Señor Kit is also too handsome. I was a fool to +send the medicine with you to Pedro’s house. He looked +a fine caballero but even a fine caballero will take a girl +when she follows after. <i>I</i> know! And once in Sonora +all trails of a girl are lost. I know that too!”</p> +<p>“You are all crazy, and I never saw him at Pedro’s +house, never!” said the girl reaching for her coffee, and +then suddenly she began to laugh. “Did you think, did +you make Papa Philip think, that I was eloping like +this?” and she glanced down at her denim riding dress.</p> +<p>“And why not? Did I myself not steal out in a shift +and petticoat the first time I tried to run away with my +Andreas? And beyond that not a thing under God had +I on but my coral beads, and the red satin slippers of my +sister Dorotea! She pulled my hair wickedly for those +slippers, and I got a <i>reata</i> on my back from my grandmother +for that running away. I was thirteen years old +then! But when I was nearly sixteen we did get away, +Andreas and I, and after that it was as well for the grandmother +to pay a priest for us, and let us alone. Ai-ji! +señorita, I am not forgetting what I know! And while I +am here in Granados there must be nothing less than a +grand marriage, and may the saints send the right man, +for a wrong one makes hell in any house!”</p> +<p>Billie forgot her sulkiness in her joy at the elopements +of Tia Luz. No wonder she distrusted an American girl +who was allowed to ride alone!</p> +<p>But in the midst of her laughter she was reminded that +Singleton was still detained at the telephone in the adjoining +room, and that his rather high-pitched tones +betrayed irritation.</p> +<p>“Well, why can’t you give the telegram to me? Addressed +to Conrad? Of course if it’s a personal message +I don’t want it, but you say it is a ranch matter––and +important. Horses? What about them?”</p> +<p>Billie, listening, sped from the table to his side, and +putting her hand over the telephone, whispered:</p> +<p>“If Brehman, the secretary, was here, they’d give it to +him. They always do.”</p> +<p>Singleton nodded to her, and grew decided.</p> +<p>“See here, Webster, one of our men was hurt, and +Brehman took his place and went East with that horse +shipment. Mr. Conrad had to go down in Sonora on +business, and I am the only one here to take his place. +Just give me the message as you would give it to the +secretary. But you’d better type a copy and send by mail +that I can put it on file. All right? Yes, go ahead.”</p> +<p>Billie had quickly secured paper and pencil, but instead +of taking them, Singleton motioned for her to write the +message.</p> +<blockquote> +<p>Adolf Conrad, Granados Ranch, Granados Junction, Arizona. +Regret to report September shipment horses developed +ailment aboard vessel, fifty per cent dead, balance +probably of no military use,</p> +<p class='ralign'><span class='smcap'>Ogden, Burns & Co.</span></p> +</blockquote> +<p>Word by word Singleton took the message and word +by word Billie wrote it down, while they stared at each +other.</p> +<p>“Developed ailment aboard vessel!” repeated Singleton. +“Then there was something wrong on shipboard, for +there certainly is not here. We have no sick horses on +the ranch, never do have!”</p> +<p>“But these people?” and Billie pointed to the signature.</p> +<p>“Oh, they are the men who buy stock for the Allies, +agents for the French. They paid for the horses on delivery. +They are safe, substantial people. I can’t understand–––”</p> +<p>But Billie caught his arm with a gasp of horror and +enlightenment.</p> +<p>“Papa Phil! Think––<i>think</i> what Kit Rhodes said! +<i>‘Ground glass in the feed at the other end of the road! +Conrad’s game––Herrara knows!’</i> Papa Phil,––Miguel +Herrara was killed––killed! And Conrad tried to kill +Kit! Oh he did, he did! None of the Mexicans thought +he would get well, but Tia Luz cured him. And Cap +Pike never went out of sight of that adobe until Conrad +had left the ranch, and I know Kit was right. I know +it, I know it! Oh, my horses, my beautiful horses!”</p> +<p>“There, there! Why, child you’re hysterical over this, +which is––is too preposterous for belief!”</p> +<p>“Nothing is too preposterous for belief. You know +that. Everybody knows it in these days! Is Belgium too +preposterous? Is that record of poison and powdered +glass in hospital supplies too preposterous? In <i>hospital</i> +supplies! If they do that to wounded men, why not to +cavalry horses? Why Papa Phil–––”</p> +<p>“Hush––hush––hush!” he said pacing the floor, +clasping his head in both hands. “It is too terrible! +What can we do? What? Who dare we trust to even +help investigate?”</p> +<p>“Well, you might wire those agents for particulars, +this is rather skimpy,” suggested Billie. “Come and get +some breakfast and think it over.”</p> +<p>“I might wire the office of the Peace Society in New +York to–––”</p> +<p>“Don’t you do it!” protested Billie. “They may have +furnished the poison for all <i>you</i> know! Cap Pike says +they are a lot of traitors, and Cap is wise in lots of +things. You telegraph, and you tell them that if the +sickness is proven to have started in Granados, that we +will pay for every dead horse, tell them we have no sick +horses here, and ask them to answer, <i>pronto!</i>”</p> +<p>“That seems rather reckless, child, to pay for all–––”</p> +<p>“I <i>am</i> reckless! I am crazy mad over those horses, +and over Conrad, and over Kit whom he tried to kill!”</p> +<p>“Tut––tut! The language and behavior of Rhodes +was too wicked for anyone to believe him innocent. He +was a beastly looking object, and I still believe him entirely +in the wrong. This loss of the horses is deplorable, +but you will find that no one at Granados is to blame.”</p> +<p>“Maybe so, but you just send that telegram and see +what we see!”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_VI_A_DEAD_MAN_UNDER_THE_COTTONWOODS' id='CHAPTER_VI_A_DEAD_MAN_UNDER_THE_COTTONWOODS'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2> +<h3>A DEAD MAN UNDER THE COTTONWOODS</h3> +</div> +<p>Billie was never out of hearing of the telephone all +day, and at two o’clock the reply came.</p> +<blockquote> +<p><span class='smcap'>Philip Singleton,</span> + Rancho Granados, Arizona.</p> +<p>Kindly wire in detail the source of your information. No +message went to Granados from this office. No publicity +has been given to the dead horse situation. Your inquiry +very important to the Department of Justice.</p> +<p class='ralign'><span class='smcap'>Ogden, Burns & Co. </span></p> +</blockquote> +<p>“Very strange, very!” murmured Singleton. “No +matter how hard I think, or from what angle, I can’t +account for it. Billie, this is too intricate for me. The +best thing I can do is to go over to Nogales and talk to +an attorney.”</p> +<p>“Go ahead and talk,” agreed Billie, “but I’d answer +that telegram first. This is no township matter, Papa +Phil, can’t you see that?”</p> +<p>“Certainly, certainly, but simply because of that fact +I feel I should have local advice. I have a legal friend +in Nogales. If I could get him on the wire–––”</p> +<p>An hour later when Billie returned from a ride, she +realized Singleton had gotten his friend on the wire, for +she heard him talking.</p> +<p>“Yes, this is Granados. Is that you, James? Yes, I +asked them to have you call me. I need to consult with +you concerning a rather serious matter. Yes, so serious +I may say it is mysterious, and appalling. It concerns +a shipment of horses. Conrad is in Sonora, and this +subject can’t wait––no, I can’t get in touch with Conrad. +He is out of communication when over there––No, +I can’t wait his return. I’ve had a wire from Ogden and +Burns, New York––said Ogden and Burns––All right, +get a pencil; I’ll hold the wire.”</p> +<p>There was a moment of silence, and if a telephonic +camera had been installed at Granados, Mr. Singleton +might have caught a very interesting picture at the other +end of the wire.</p> +<p>A middle-aged man in rusty black of semi-clerical cut +held the receiver, and the effect of the names as given over +the wire was, to put it mildly, electrical. His jaw dropped +and he stared across the table at a man who was seated +there. At the repetition of the name, the other arose, and +with the stealthily secretive movement of a coyote near +its prey he circled the table, and drew a chair close to the +telephone. The pencil and paper was in his hand, not in +that of “James.” That other was Conrad.</p> +<p>Then the telephone conversation was resumed after +Mr. Singleton had been requested to speak a little louder––there +seemed some flaw in the connection.</p> +<p>In the end Singleton appeared much comforted to get +the subject off his own shoulders by discussing it with +another. But he had been convinced that the right thing +to do was to motor over to the Junction and take the +telegrams with him for consultation. He would start +about eight in the morning, and would reach the railroad +by noon. Yes, by taking the light car which he drove +himself it would be an easy matter.</p> +<p>Billie heard part of this discourse in an absent-minded +way, for she was not at all interested as to what some +strange lawyer in Nogales might think of the curious +telegrams.</p> +<p>She would have dropped some of that indifference if +she had been able to hear the lurid language of Conrad +after the receiver was hung up. James listened to him in +silence for a bit, and then said:</p> +<p>“It’s your move, brother! There are not supposed to +be any mistakes in the game, and you have permitted our +people to wire you a victory when you were not there to +get the wire, and that was a mistake.”</p> +<p>“But Brehman always–––”</p> +<p>“You sent Brehman East and for once forgot what +might happen with your office empty. No,––it is not +Singleton’s fault; he did the natural thing. It is not the +operator’s fault; why should he not give a message concerning +horses to the proprietor of the horse ranch?”</p> +<p>“But Singleton never before made a move in anything +of management, letters never opened, telegrams filed but +never answers sent until I am there! And this time! +It is that most cursed Rhodes, I know it is that one! +They told me he was high in fever and growing worse, +and luck with me! So you yourself know the necessity +that I go over for the Sonora conference––there was no +other way. It is that Rhodes! Yes, I know it, and they +told me he was as good as dead––God! if again I get +him in these hands!”</p> +<p>He paced the floor nervously, and flung out his clenched +hands in fury, and the quiet man watched him.</p> +<p>“That is personal, and is for the future,” he said, “but +Singleton is not a personal matter. If he lives he will +be influenced to investigation, and that must not be. It +would remove you from Granados, and you are too valuable +at that place. You must hold that point as you would +hold a fort against the enemy. When Mexico joins with +Germany against the damned English and French, this +fool mushroom republic will protest, and that is the time +our friends will sweep over from Mexico and gather in +all these border states––which were once hers––and will +again be hers through the strong mailed hand of Germany! +This is written and will be! When that day +comes, we need such points of vantage as Granados and +La Partida; we must have them! You have endangered +that position, and the mistake won’t be wiped out. The +next move is yours, Conrad.”</p> +<p>The quiet man in the habiliments of shabby gentility +in that bare little room with the American flag over the +door and portraits of two or three notable advocates of +World Peace and the American League of Neutrality on +the wall, had all the outward suggestion of the small +town disciple of Socialism from the orthodox viewpoint. +His manner was carefully restrained, and his low voice +was very even, but at his last words Conrad who had +dropped into a seat, his head in his hands, suddenly looked +up, questioning.</p> +<p>“Singleton can probably do no more harm today,” +went on the quiet voice. “I warned him it would be a +mistake to discuss it until after he had seen me. He +starts at eight in the morning, alone, for the railroad but +probably will not reach there.” He looked at his watch +thoughtfully. “The Tucson train leaves in fifty minutes. +You can get that. Stop off at the station where Brehman’s +sister is waitress. She will have his car ready, that +will avoid the Junction. It will be rough work, Conrad, +but it is your move. It is an order.”</p> +<p>And then before that carefully quiet man who had +the appearance of a modest country person, Adolf Conrad +suddenly came to his feet in military salute.</p> +<p>“Come, we will talk it over,” suggested his superior. +“It will be rough, yet necessary, and if it could appear +suicide, eh? Well, we will see. We––will––see!”</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>At seven in the morning the Granados telephone bell +brought Singleton into the patio in his dressing gown and +slippers. And Doña Luz who was seeing that his breakfast +was served, heard him express surprise and then say:</p> +<p>“Why, certainly. If you are coming this way as far +on the road as the Jefferson ranch of course we can meet +there, and I only need to go half way. That will be excellent. +Yes, and if Judge Jefferson is at home he may +be able to help with his advice. Fine! Good-bye.”</p> +<p>When Doña Luz was questioned about it later she was +quite sure Mr. Singleton mentioned no name, his words +were as words to a friend.</p> +<p>But all that day the telephone was out of order on the +Granados line, and Singleton did not return that night. +There was nothing to cause question in that, as he had +probably gone on to Nogales, but when the second day +came and the telephone not working, Billie started Pedro +Vijil to ride the line to Granados Junction, get the mail, +and have a line man sent out for repairs wherever they +were needed.</p> +<p>It was puzzling because there had been no storm, nothing +of which they knew to account for the silent wire. +The line was an independent one from the Junction, and +there were only two stations on it, the Jefferson ranch +and Granados.</p> +<p>But Vijil forgot about the wire, for he met some sheep +men from the hills carrying the body of Singleton. They +had found him in the cottonwoods below the road not +five miles from the hacienda. His car he had driven off +the road back of a clump of thick mesquite. The revolver +was still in his hand, and the right temple covered +with black blood and flies.</p> +<p>There was nothing better to do than what the herders +were doing. The man had been dead a day and must be +buried, also it was necessary to send a man to Jefferson’s, +where there was a telephone, to get in touch with someone +in authority and arrange for the funeral.</p> +<p>So the herders walked along with their burden carried +in a <i>serape</i>, and covered by the carriage robe. Pedro had +warned them to halt at his own house, for telephone calls +would certainly gather men, who would help to arrange +all decently before the body was taken into the <i>sala</i> of +Granados.</p> +<p>There is not much room for conjecture as to the means +of a man’s taking off when he is found with a bullet in his +right temple, a revolver in his right hand, and only one +empty cartridge shell in the revolver. There seemed no +mystery about the death, except the cause of suicide.</p> +<p>It was the same evening that Conrad riding in from +the south, attempted to speak over the wire with Granados +and got from Central information that the Granados wire +was broken, and Singleton, the proprietor, a suicide.</p> +<p>The coroner’s inquest so pronounced it, after careful +investigation of the few visible facts. Conrad was of no +value as a witness because he had been absent in Magdalena. +He could surmise no reason for such an act, +but confessed he knew practically nothing of Singleton’s +personal affairs. He was guardian of his stepdaughter +and her estate, and so far as Conrad knew all his relations +with the personnel of the estate were most amicable. +Conrad acknowledged when questioned that Singleton +did usually carry a revolver when out in the car, he had a +horror of snakes, and he had never known him to use a +gun for anything else.</p> +<p>Doña Luz Moreno confused matters considerably by +her statement that Mr. Singleton was going to meet some +man at the Jefferson ranch because the man had called +him up before breakfast to arrange it. Later it was +learned that no call was made from any station over +the wire that morning to Granados. There was in fact +several records of failure to get Granados. No one but +Doña Luz had heard the call and heard Singleton reply, +yet it was not possible that this communication could +be a fact over a broken wire, and the wire was found +broken between the Jefferson ranch and Granados.</p> +<p>Whereupon word promptly went abroad among the +Mexicans that Señor Singleton had been lured to his +death by a spirit voice calling over a broken wire as a +friend to a friend. For the rest of her life Doña Luz +will have that tale to tell as the evidence of her own ears +that warnings of death do come from the fearsome spirits +of the shadowed unknown land,––and this in denial of all +the padres’ godly discourse to the contrary!</p> +<p>A Mr. Frederick James of Nogales, connected with a +group of charitable gentlemen working for the alleviating +of distress among the many border exiles from Mexico, +was the only person who came forward voluntarily to +offer help to the coroner regarding the object of the dead +man’s journey to Nogales. Mr. James had been called +on the telephone by Mr. Singleton, who was apparently +in great distress of mind concerning mysterious illness +and deaths of horses shipped from Granados to France. +A telegram had come from New York warning him that +the Department of Justice was investigating the matter, +and the excitement and nervousness of Mr. Singleton was +such that Mr. James readily consented to a meeting in +Nogales, with the hope that he might be of service in any +investigation they would decide upon after consultation. +When Mr. Singleton did not keep the engagement, Mr. +James attempted to make inquiries by telephone. He +tried again the following morning, but it was only after +hearing of the suicide––he begged pardon––the death of +Mr. Singleton, that he recalled the fact that all of Singleton’s +discourse over the telephone had been unusual, excitable +to a degree, while all acquaintances of the dead +man knew him as a quiet, reserved man, really unusually +reserved, almost to the point of the secretive. Mr. James +was struck by the unusual note of panic in his tones, but +as a carload of horses was of considerable financial value, +he ascribed the excitement in part to that, feeling confident +of course that Mr. Singleton was in no ways accountable +for the loss, but–––</p> +<p>Mr. James was asked if the nervousness indicated by +Mr. Singleton was a fear of personal consequences following +the telegram, but Mr. James preferred not to say. +He had regarded Mr. Singleton as a model of most of the +virtues, and while Singleton’s voice and manner had certainly +been unusual, he could not presume to suspect the +inner meaning of it.</p> +<p>The telegraph and telephone records bore out the testimony +of Mr. James.</p> +<p>The fact that the first telegram was addressed to the +manager, Mr. Conrad, had apparently nothing to do with +the case, since the telegraph files showed that messages +were about evenly divided in the matter of address concerning +ranch matters. They were often addressed simply +to “Granados Rancho” or “Manager Granados Ranch.” +This one simply happened to be addressed to the name of +the manager.</p> +<p>The coroner decided that the mode of address had no +direct bearing on the fact that the man was found dead +under the cottonwoods with copies of both telegrams in +his pocket, both written in a different hand from his carefully +clear script as shown in his address book. Safe in +his pocket also was money, a gold watch with a small +gold compass, and a handsome seal ring. Nothing was +missing, which of course precluded the thought of murder +for robbery, and Philip Singleton was too mildly negative +to make personal enemies, a constitutional neutral.</p> +<p>Billie, looking very small and very quiet, was brought +in by Doña Luz and Mr. Jefferson of the neighboring +ranch, fifty miles to the east. She had not been weeping. +She was too stunned for tears, and there was a strangely +ungirlish tension about her, an alert questioning in her +eyes as she looked from face to face, and then returned +to the face of the one man who was a stranger, the kindly +sympathetic face of Mr. Frederick James.</p> +<p>She told of the telegrams she had copied, and of the +distress of Singleton, but that his distress was no more +than her own, that she had been crying about the horses, +and he had tried to comfort her. She did not believe he +had a trouble in the world of his own, and he had never +killed himself––never!</p> +<p>When asked if she had any reason to suspect a murderer, +she said if they ever found who killed the horses +they would find who killed her Papa Phil, but this opinion +was evidently not shared by any of the others. The +report of horses dead on a transport in the Atlantic ocean, +and a man dead under the cottonwoods in Arizona, did +not appear to have any definite physical relation to each +other, unless of course the loss of the horses had proven +too much of a shock to Mr. Singleton and upset his +nerves to the extent that moody depression had developed +into temporary dementia. His own gun had been the evident +agent of death.</p> +<p>One of the Mexicans recalled that Singleton had discharged +an American foreman in anger, and that the man +had been in a rage about it, and assaulted Mr. Conrad, +whereupon Conrad was recalled, and acknowledged the +assault with evident intent to kill. Yes, he heard the man +Rhodes had threatened Singleton with a nastier accident +than his attempt on Conrad. No, he had not heard it +personally, as he was unconscious when the threat was +made.</p> +<p>“It wasn’t a threat!” interrupted Billie, “it was something +different, a warning.”</p> +<p>“A warning of what?”</p> +<p>Billie was about to quote Kit’s opinion concerning +Singleton’s ranch force, when she was halted by a strange +thing––for Billie; it was merely the mild steady gaze +of the quiet gentleman of the peaceful league of the neutrals. +There was a slight lifting of his brows as she +spoke of a warning; and then a slight suggestion of a +smile––it might have been a perfectly natural incredulous +smile, but Billie felt that it was not. The yellowish +brown eyes narrowed until only the pupils were visible, +and warm though the day was, Billie felt a swift chill +over her, and her words were cautious.</p> +<p>“I can’t say, I don’t know, but Kit Rhodes had no +grudge against Papa Phil. He seemed in some way to +be sorry for him.”</p> +<p>She noted that Conrad’s gaze was on the face of Mr. +James instead of on her.</p> +<p>“Sorry for him?”</p> +<p>“Y-yes, sort of. He tried to explain why, but Papa +would not listen, and would not make any engagement +with him. Sent his money by Captain Pike and wouldn’t +see him. But Kit Rhodes did not make a threat, he +did not!”</p> +<p>Her last denial was directly at Conrad, who merely +shrugged his shoulders as if to dispose of that awkward +phase of the matter.</p> +<p>“It was told me so, but the Mexican men might not +have understood the words of Rhodes––he was in a rage––and +it may be he did not mean so much as he said.”</p> +<p>“But he didn’t say it!” insisted Billie.</p> +<p>“Very good, he did not, and it is a mistake of mine,” +agreed Conrad politely. “For quite awhile I was unconscious +after his assault, naturally I know nothing of +what was said.”</p> +<p>“And where is this man Rhodes to be found?” asked +the coroner, and Conrad smiled meaningly.</p> +<p>“Nowhere,––or so I am told! He and a companion +are said to have crossed the line into Sonora twenty-four +hours before the death of Mr. Singleton.”</p> +<p>“Well, unless there is some evidence that he was seen +later on this side, any threat he might or might not have +made, has no relation whatever to this case. Is there any +evidence that he was seen at, or near, Granados after +starting for Sonora?”</p> +<p>No evidence was forthcoming, and the coroner, in +summoning up, confessed he was not satisfied to leave +certain details of the case a mystery.</p> +<p>That Singleton had discharged Rhodes in anger, and +Rhodes had, even by intimation, voiced a threat against +Singleton could not be considered as having any bearing +on the death of the latter; while the voice of the unknown +calling him to a meeting at Jefferson’s ranch was equally +a matter of mystery, since no one at Jefferson’s knew +anything of the message, or the speaker, and investigation +developed the fact that the telephone wire was broken +between the two ranches, and there was no word at +Granados Junction Central of any message to Granados +after five o’clock the afternoon of the previous day.</p> +<p>And, since Philip Singleton never reached the Jefferson +ranch, but turned his car off the road at the cottonwood +cañon, and was found with one bullet in his head, and +the gun in his own hand, it was not for a coroner’s jury +to conjecture the impulse leading up to the act, or the +business complications by which the act might, or might +not, have been hastened. But incomprehensible though +it might seem to all concerned there was only one finding +on the evidence submitted, and that was suicide.</p> +<p>“Papa Phil never killed himself, never!” declared +Billie. “That would be two suicides in a month for +Granados, and two is one too many. We never had +suicides here before.”</p> +<p>“Who was the other?”</p> +<p>“Why, Miguel Herrara who had been arrested for +smuggling, was searched and his gun taken, and yet that +night found a gun to kill himself with in the adobe where +he was locked up! Miguel would not have cared for a +year or two in jail; he had lived there before, and hadn’t +tried any killing. I tell you Granados is getting more +than its share.”</p> +<p>“It sure looks like it, little lady,” agreed the coroner, +“but Herrara’s death gives us no light or evidence on +Singleton’s death, and our jurisdiction is limited strictly +to the hand that held the gun. The evidence shows it was +in the hand of Mr. Singleton when found.”</p> +<p>The Jeffersons insisted that Billie go home with them, +as the girl appeared absolutely and pathetically alone in +the world. She knew of no relatives, and Tia Luz and +Captain Pike were the only two whom she had known +from babyhood as friends of her father’s.</p> +<p>The grandmother of Billie Bernard had been the daughter +of a Spanish <i>haciendado</i> who was also an officer in +the army of Mexico. He met death in battle before he +ever learned that his daughter, in the pious work of nursing +friend and enemy alike, had nursed one enemy of +the hated North until each was captive to the other, and +she rode beside him to her father’s farthest northern +rancho beyond the Mexican deserts, and never went +again to the gay circles of Mexico’s capital. Late in her +life one daughter, Dorotea was born, and when Alfred +Bernard came out of the East and looked on her, a blonde +Spanish girl as her ancestresses of Valencia had been, +the game of love was played again in the old border +rancho which was world enough for the lovers. There +had been one eastern summer for them the first year of +their marriage, and Philip Singleton had seen her there, +and never forgot her. After her widowhood he crossed +the continent to be near her, and after awhile his devotion, +and her need of help in many ways, won the place +he coveted, and life at Granados went on serenely until +her death. Though he had at times been bored a bit by +the changelessness of ranch life, yet he had given his +word to guard the child’s inheritance until she came of +age, and had kept it loyally as he knew how until death +met him in the cañon of the cottonwoods.</p> +<p>But the contented isolation of her immediate family +left Billie only such guardian as the court might appoint +for her property and person, and Andrew Jefferson, +Judge Jefferson by courtesy, in the county, would no +doubt be choice of the court as well as the girl. Beyond +that she could only think of Pike, and––well Pike was +out of reach on some enchanted gold trail of which she +must not speak, and she supposed she would have to go +to school instead of going in search of him!</p> +<p>Conrad spoke to her kindly as she was led to the Jefferson +car, and there was a subtle deference in his +manner, indicating his realization that he was speaking––not +to the wilful little maid who could be annoying––but +to the owner of Granados and, despite his five year contract +as manager, an owner who could change entirely +the activities of the two ranches in another year––and +it was an important year.</p> +<p>He also spoke briefly to Mr. James offering him the +hospitality of the ranch for a day of rest before returning +to Nogales, but the offer was politely declined. Mr. +James intimated that he was at Conrad’s service if he +could be of any practical use in the mysterious situation. +He carefully gave his address and telephone number, and +bade the others good day. But as he was entering his +little roadster he spoke again to Conrad.</p> +<p>“By the way, it was a mistake to let that man Rhodes +get over into Sonora. It should be the task of someone +to see that he does not come back. He seems a very dangerous +man. See to it!”</p> +<p>The words were those of a kindly person interested +in the welfare of the community, and evidently impressed +by the evidence referring to the discharged range boss. +Two of the men hearing him exchanged glances, for they +also thought that rumor of the threats should have been +looked into. But the last three words were spoken too +softly for any but Conrad to hear.</p> +<p>The following week Billie went to Tucson with the +Jeffersons and at her request Judge Jefferson was appointed +guardian of her person and estate, after which +she and the judge went into a confidential session concerning +that broken wire on the Granados line.</p> +<p>“I’m not loco, Judge,” she insisted, “but I want you to +learn whether that wire was cut on purpose, or just broke +itself. Also I want you to take up that horse affair with +the secret service people. I don’t want Conrad to be sent +away––yet. I’d rather watch him on Granados. I +won’t go away to school; I’d rather have a teacher at +home. We can find one.”</p> +<p>“But, do you realize that with two mysterious deaths +on Granados lately, you might run some personal risk of +living there with only yourself and two women in the +house? I’m not sure we can sanction that, my child.”</p> +<p>Billie smiled at him a bit wanly, but decided.</p> +<p>“Now Judge, you know I picked you because you +would let me do whatever I pleased, and I don’t mean to +be disappointed with you. Half the men at the inquest +think that Kit Rhodes did come back to do that shooting, +and you know Conrad and the very smooth rat of the +Charities Society are accountable for that opinion. The +Mexican who dragged in Kit’s name is one of Conrad’s +men; it all means something! It’s a bad muddle, but +Kit Rhodes and Cap Pike will wander back here some of +these days, and I mean to have every bit of evidence for +Kit to start in with. He suspected a lot, and all Granados +combined to silence him––fool Granados!”</p> +<p>“But, just between ourselves, child, are you convinced +Rhodes did not make the statement liable to be construed +into a threat against Mr. Singleton?”</p> +<p>“Convinced nothing,” was the inelegant reply of his +new ward. “I heard him say enough to hang him if evidence +could be found that he was north of the line that +morning, and that’s why it’s my job to take note of all the +evidence on the other side. The horses did not kill themselves. +That telegram concerning it did not send itself. +Papa Phil did not shoot himself, and that telephone wire +did not cut itself! My hunch is that those four things go +together, and that’s a combination they can’t clear up by +dragging in the name of a man who never saw the horses, +and who was miles south in Sonora with Cap Pike when +the other three things happened. Now can they?”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_VII_IN_THE_PROVINCE_OF_ALTAR' id='CHAPTER_VII_IN_THE_PROVINCE_OF_ALTAR'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2> +<h3>IN THE PROVINCE OF ALTAR</h3> +</div> +<table summary=''><tr><td> +<p class='cg'><i>There was a frog who lived in the spring:<br /> +<span class='indent2'> </span>Sing-song Kitty, can’t yo’ carry me, oh?<br /> +And it was so cold that he could not sing,<br /> +<span class='indent2'> </span>Sing-song Kitty, can’t yo’ carry me, oh?<br /> +<span class='indent2'> </span>Ke-mo! Ki-mo! Dear––oh my!<br /> +<span class='indent2'> </span>To my hi’––to my ho––to my–––</i></p> +</td></tr></table> +<p>“Oh! For the love of Mike! Bub, can’t you give +a man a rest instead of piling up the agony? +These old joints of mine are creakin’ with every move +from desert rust and dry camps, and you with no more +heart in you than to sing of springs,––cold springs!”</p> +<p>“They do exist, Cap.”</p> +<p>“Uh––huh, they are as real to us this minute as the +red gold that we’ve trailed until we’re at the tag end of +our grub stake. I tell you, Bub, they stacked the cards +on us with that door of the old Soledad Mission, and the +view of the gold cañon from there! Why, Whitely +showed us that the mission door never did face the hills, +but looked right down the valley towards the Rio del +Altar just as the Soledad plaza does today; all the old +Mexicans and Indians tell us that.”</p> +<p>“Well, we’ve combed over most of the arroyas leading +into the Altar from Rancho Soledad, and all we’ve found +is placer gravel; yet the placers are facts, and the mother +lode is somewhere, Cap.”</p> +<p>“Worn down to pan dirt, that’s what!” grunted Pike. +“I tell you these heathen sit around and dream lost mission +tales and lost mine lies; dream them by the dozen +to delude just such innocent yaps as you and me. They’ve +nothing else to do between crops. We should have stuck +to a white man’s land, north into Arizona where the Three +Hills of Gold are waiting, to say nothing of the Lost +Stone Cabin mine, lost not twenty miles from Quartzite, +and in plain sight of Castle Dome. Now there is nothing +visionary about <i>that</i>, Kit! Why, I knew an old-timer +who freighted rich ore out of that mine thirty years ago, +and even the road to it has been lost for years! We +know things once did exist up in that country, Kit, and +down here we are all tangled up with Mexican-Indian +stories of ghosts and enchantments, and such vagaries. +I’m fed up with them to the limit, for everyone of them +we listen to is different from the last. We’ll head up into +the Castle Dome country next time, hear me?”</p> +<p>“Sure, I hear,” agreed Kit cheerfully. “Perhaps we +do lose, but it’s not so bad. Since Whitely sent his family +north, he has intimated that Mesa Blanca is a single +man’s job, and I reckon I can have it when he goes––as +he will. Then in the month we have scouted free of +Whitelys, we have dry washed enough dust to put you +on velvet till things come our way. Say, what will you +bet that a month of comfort around Nogales won’t make +you hungry for the trail again?”</p> +<p>“A gold trail?” queried the weary and dejected Pike.</p> +<p>“Any old trail to any old place just so we keep +ambling on. You can’t live contented under cover, and +you know it.”</p> +<p>“Well,” decided Pike after a rod or two of tramping +along the shaly, hot bed of a dry arroya. “I won’t bet, +for you may be among the prophets. But while you are +about it, I’d be thankful if you’d prophesy me a wet trail +next time instead of skimpy mud holes where springs +ought to be. I’m sick of dry camps, and so is Baby +Buntin’.”</p> +<p>“<i>‘Oh, there was a frog lived in the spring!’</i>” chanted +Kit derisively. “Cheer up, Cap, the worst is yet to come, +for I’ve an idea that the gang of Mexican vaqueros we +glimpsed from the butte at noon will just about muss up +the water hole in Yaqui cañon until it will be us for a +sleep there before the fluid is fit for a water bottle. <i>‘Oh, +there was a frog lived in the spring!’</i> Buntin’ Baby, +we’ll fish the frog out, and let you wallow in it instead, +you game little dusty rat! Say, Pike, when we load up +with grub again we’ll keep further west to the Cerrado +Pintado. I’ll follow a hunch of my own next trip.”</p> +<p>The older man grunted disdain for the hunches of Kit, +even while his eyes smiled response to the ever-living call +of youth. To Rhodes there was ever a “next time.” He +was young enough to deal in futures, and had a way with +him by which friends were to be found for even unstable +venturings with no backing more substantial than a +“hunch.”</p> +<p>Not that Kit was gifted with any great degree of fatal +beauty––men are not often pretty on the trail, unwashed, +unshaven, and unshorn––added to which their equipment +had reached the point where his most pretentious +garment was a square of an Indian <i>serape</i> with a hole in +the middle worn as a poncho, and adopted to save his coat +and other shirt on the hard trail.</p> +<p>Cap Pike growled that he looked like a Mexican peon +in that raiment, which troubled Kit not at all. He was +red bronze from the desert days, and his blue eyes, with +the long black lashes of some Celtic ancestor, looked out +on the world with direct mild approval. They matched +the boyish voice much given to trolling old-time ditties +and sentimental foolishness.</p> +<p>He led the dappled roan over the wild dry “wash” +where the sand was deep and slippery, and the white +crust of alkali over all. Before him swayed the pack +mules, and back of him Captain Pike sagged on the little +gray burro, named in derision and affection, the Baby +Bunting of the outfit.</p> +<p>The jauntiness was temporarily eliminated from the +old prospector. Two months of fruitless scratching +gravel when he had expected to walk without special +delay to the great legendary deposit, had taken the sparkle +of hope from the blue eyes, and he glanced perfunctorily +at the walls of that which had once been a river bed.</p> +<p>“What in time do you reckon became of all the water +that used to fill these dry gullies?” he asked querulously. +“Why, it took a thousand years of floods to wash these +boulders round, and then leave them high and dry when +nicely polished. That’s a waste in nature I can’t figure +out, and this godforsaken territory is full of them.”</p> +<p>“Well, you grouch, if we didn’t have this dry bed to +skip along, we would be bucking the greasewood and +cactus on the mesa above. So we get some favors coming +our way.”</p> +<p>“Skip along,––me eye!” grunted Pike, as the burro +toiled laboriously through the sand, and Kit shifted and +stumbled over treacherous, half-buried boulders. “Say, +Kit, don’t you reckon it’s time for Billie to answer my +letter? It’s over eight weeks now, and mail ought to get +in once a month.”</p> +<p>Rhodes grunted something about “mail in normal +times, but these times were not normal,” and did not seem +much interested in word from Granados.</p> +<p>He had not the heart, or else had too much, to tell the +old man that the letter to Billie never reached her. When +Whitely went north he put it in his coat pocket, and then +changed his coat! Kit found it a month later and held +it, waiting to find someone going out. He had not even +mentioned it to Whitely on his return, for Whitely was +having his own troubles, and could not spare a man for +a four day trip to mail.</p> +<p>Whitely’s folks lived north of Naco, and he had gone +there direct and returned without touching at Nogales, or +hearing of the tragedy at Granados. The latest news of +the Mexican revolutions, and the all-absorbing question +as to whether the United States would or would not intervene, +seemed all the news the worried Whitely had +brought back. Even the slaughter of a dozen nations of +Europe had no new features to a ranchman of Sonora,––it +remained just slaughter. And one did not need to cross +boundaries to learn of killings, for all the world seemed +aflame, and every state in Mexico had its own wars,––little +or big.</p> +<p>Then, in the records of the tumultuous days, there was +scarce space for the press or people to give thought after +the first day or two, to the colorless life going out in +mystery under the cottonwoods of Granados, and no word +came to tell Rhodes of the suspicion, only half veiled, +against himself.</p> +<p>The ranch house of Mesa Blanca was twenty miles +from the hacienda of Soledad, and a sharp spur of the +Carrizal range divided their grazing lands. Soledad +reached a hundred miles south and Mesa Blanca claimed +fifty miles to the west, so that the herds seldom mingled, +but word filtered to and from between the vaqueros, and +Rhodes heard that Perez had come north from Hermosillo +and that El Aleman, (the German) had made the two day +trip in from the railroad, and had gone on a little <i>pasear</i> +to the small rancherias with Juan Gonsalvo, the half-breed +overseer. The vaqueros talked with each other +about that, for there were no more young men among +them for soldiers, only boys and old men to tend the +cattle, and what did it mean?</p> +<p>The name of Rhodes was not easy for the Mexican +tongue, and at Mesa Blanca his identity was promptly +lost in the gift of a name with a meaning to them, El +Pajarito, (the singer). +Capitan Viajo, (the old captain), +was accepted by Pike with equal serenity, as both men +were only too well pleased to humor the Indian ranch +people in any friendly concessions, for back of some of +those alert black eyes there were surely inherited records +of old pagan days, and old legends of golden veins in the +hills.</p> +<p>The fact that they were left practically nameless in a +strange territory did not occur to either of them, and +would not have disturbed them if it had. They had met +no American but Whitely since they first struck Mesa +Blanca. One month Kit had conscientiously stuck to the +ranch cares while Whitely took his family out, and Pike +had made little sallies into the hills alone.</p> +<p>On Whitely’s return he had made an errand to Soledad +and taken Rhodes and Pike along that they might view the +crumbled walls of old Soledad Mission, back of the ranch +house. The ancient rooms of the mission padres were +now used principally as corrals, harness shop, and storage +rooms.</p> +<p>The situation in itself was one of rare beauty;––those +old padres knew!</p> +<p>It was set on a high plain or mesa, facing a wide valley +spreading miles away to the south where mother-of-pearl +mountains were ranged like strung jewels far against the +Mexican sky. At the north, slate-blue foothills lifted +their sharp-edged shoulders three miles away, but only +blank walls of Soledad faced the hills, all portals of the +old mission appeared to have faced south, as did Soledad. +The door facing the hills was a myth. And as Rhodes +stood north of the old wall, and searched its thirty-mile +circle, he could understand how four generations of gold +seekers had failed to find even a clue to the wealth those +unknown padres had looked on, and sent joyous evidence +of to the viceroy of the south. It would take years of +systematic search to cover even half the visible range. +A man could devote a long lifetime to a fruitless search +there, and then some straying burro might uncover it for +an Indian herder who would fill his poncho, and make a +sensation for a week or two, and never find the trail +again!</p> +<p>“It’s just luck!” said Kit thinking it all over as he +tramped along the arroya bed, “it either belongs to you, +or it doesn’t. No man on earth can buy it and make +it stay, but if it is yours, no man can keep you from it +entirely.”</p> +<p>“What the devil are you yammering about?” asked +Pike grumpily.</p> +<p>“Oh, I was just thinking of how Whitely exploded our +little balloon of hopes when he took us over to size up +the prospects at Soledad. I wonder if Perez has no white +help at all around that place. We did not even see the +foreman.”</p> +<p>“He’s a half-breed, that Juan Gonsalvo. The Indians +don’t like him. He’s from down Hermosillo way, and not +like these Piman children of nature. He and Conrad +are up to some devilment, but Whitely thinks Juan took +the job, deluded as we are, with the notion that a gold +mine was sticking up out of the ground at the Soledad +corrals, and it was to be his find. You see, Bub, that +story has gone the length of Mexico, and even over to +Spain. Oh, we are not the only trailers of ghost gold; +there are others!”</p> +<p>The slanting sun was sending shadows long on the +levels, and the hills were looming to the east in softest +tones of gray and amethyst; the whitish green of desert +growths lay between, and much of brown desert yet to +cross.</p> +<p>“We can’t make the foothills tonight even though +there is an early moon,” decided Kit. “But we can break +camp at dawn and make it before the sun is high, and the +water will hold out that long.”</p> +<p>“It will hold for Buntin’ and the mules, but what of +Pardner?” asked the older man. “He’s not used to this +hard pan gravel scratching.”</p> +<p>“But he’s thoroughbred, and he can stand it twelve +hours more if I can, can’t you, old pal?” The tall roan +with the dot of black between the eyes returned his +owner’s caress by nosing his bare neck, and the hand +held up to smooth the black mane.</p> +<p>“I’ll be glad enough to see him safe across the border +in old Arizona,” observed Pike. “I can’t see how the +herders saved him for you at Mesa Blanca when their +own stock was picked of its best for the various patriots +charging through the settlements.”</p> +<p>“Some way, Miguel, the Indian vaquero, managed it, +or got his girl to hide it out. Whitely confessed that his +Indian cattlemen are the most loyal he can find down +here.”</p> +<p>“But it’s not a white man’s land––yet, and I’m downright +glad he’s shipped his family north. There’s always +hell enough in Sonora, but it’s a dovecote to what it’s +bound to be before the end comes, and so, it’s no place for +white men’s wives.”</p> +<p>“Right you are! Say, what was it Whitely heard down +in Sinaloa concerning the Enchanted Cañon mine?”</p> +<p>“Oh, some old priest’s tale––the same dope we got +with a different slant to it. The gold nuggets from some +shrine place where the water gushed <i>muy fuerte</i>, by a +sycamore tree. Same old nuggets sent out with the message, +and after that the insurrection of the Indians, and +the priests who found it never lived to get out. Why, +Bub, that is nearly two hundred years ago! Stop and +think of the noble Castilians going over Sonora with a +fine tooth comb for that trail ever since and then think of +the nerve of us!”</p> +<p>“Well, I’m nearer to it anyway than the Dutchman +who trekked in from the south last year with copies of +the old mission reports as guide, for the Yaquis killed +him, and took his records, while they hide my horse for +me.”</p> +<p>“Huh! yes, and warn you to ride him north!”</p> +<p>“Correct;––but Pike, it was a warning, not a threat! +Oh, I’m coming back all right, all right! That gold by +the hidden stream sure has got me roped and hog tied +for keeps.”</p> +<p>Pike growled good-natured disdain of his confidence, +and suggested that the stream, which was probably only a +measly mud hole, could have dropped to purgatory in an +earthquake tremor since those first old mission days, or +filled up with quicksand.</p> +<p>“Right you are, Cap. That’s a first-rate idea,” agreed +Kit the irrepressible. “Next trip we’ll start looking for +streams that were and are not; we’re in the bed of one +now for that matter!”</p> +<p>“Somewhere ahead we should come into the trail south +from Carracita,” observed Pike, “but I reckon you’d just +as soon camp with Pard out of sight of the trail.”</p> +<p>There was silence for a bit as they plodded on up the +wide dry bed of the river, and then Kit turned, glancing +at the old man keenly.</p> +<p>“I didn’t fool you much when I called that gang +‘vaqueros,’ did I?” he observed. “Well, they didn’t +look good to me, and I decided I’d have to fight for my +horse if we crossed trails, and––it wastes a lot of time, +fighting does.”</p> +<p>“No, you didn’t fool me. You’d be seven kinds of an +idiot to walk in this gully of purgatory when you could +ride safely on the mesa above, so I guessed you had a +hunch it was the friendly and acquisitive patriots.”</p> +<p>“Pike, they were between us and the Palomitas +rancherias of Mesa Blanca or I’d have made a try to get +through and warn the Indians there. Those men had no +camp women with them, so they were not a detachment of +the irregular cavalry,––that’s what puzzles me. And +their horses were fresh. It’s some new devilment.”</p> +<p>“There’s nothing new in Sonora, son. Things happen +over and over the same.”</p> +<p>The shadows lengthened, and the blue range to the east +had sharp, black edges against the saffron sky, and the +men plodding along over sand and between boulders, fell +silent after the little exchange of confidence as to choice +of trail. Once Kit left the gully and climbed the steep +grade to the mesa alone to view the landscape over, but +slid and scrambled down,––hot, dusty, and vituperative.</p> +<p>“Not a sign of life but some carrion crows moving +around in the blue without flop of a wing,” he grumbled. +“Who started the dope that mankind is the chosen of the +Lord? Huh! we have to scratch gravel for all we rake +in but the birds of the air have us beat for desert travel +all right, all right!”</p> +<p>“Well, Bub, if you saw no one’s dust it must be that +gang were not headed for Palomitas or Whitely’s.”</p> +<p>“They could strike Palomitas, and circle over to the +east road without striking Whitely’s home corrals,” said +Kit thoughtfully.</p> +<p>“Sure they could, but what’s the object? If it’s cattle +or horses they’re after the bigger ranch is the bigger +haul?”</p> +<p>“Yes,––if it’s stock they’re after,” agreed Kit somberly.</p> +<p>“Why, lad, what––what’s got you now?”</p> +<p>“I reckon it’s the damned buzzards,” acknowledged the +younger man. “I don’t know what struck me as I sat +up there watching them. Maybe it’s their blackness, +maybe it’s their provender, maybe it was just the loco of +their endless drifting shadows, but for a minute up there +I had an infernal sick feeling. It’s a new one on me, and +there was nothing I could blame it on but disgust of the +buzzards.”</p> +<p>“You’re goin’ too shy on the water, and never knew +before that you had nerves,” stated Pike sagely. “I’ve +been there; fought with a pardner once,––Jimmy Dean, +till he had to rope me. You take a pull at the water +bottle, and take it now.”</p> +<p>Kit did so, but shook his head.</p> +<p>“It touches the right spot, but it was not a thirst +fancy. It was another thought and––O Bells of Pluto! +Pike, let’s talk of something else! What was that you +said about the Sinaloa priest story of the red gold? You +said something about a new slant on the old dope.”</p> +<p>“Uh-huh!” grunted Pike. “At least it was a new +slant to me. I’ve heard over and over about uprising of +Indians, and death of the two priests who found their +mine, but this Sinaloa legend has it that the Indians did +not kill the priests, but that their gods did!”</p> +<p>“Their gods?”</p> +<p>“Yeh, the special gods of that region rose up and +smote them. That’s why the Indians barred out other +mission priests for so long a spell that no white man +remembered just where the lost shrine of the red gold +was. Of course it’s all punk, Bub, just some story of the +heathen sheep to hide the barbecuing of their shepherds.”</p> +<p>“Maybe so, but I’ve as much curiosity as a pet coon. +What special process did their gods use to put the friars +out of commission?”</p> +<p>“Oh, lightning. The original priests’ report had it that +the red gold was at some holy place of the tribes, a shrine +of some sort. Well, you know the usual mission rule––if +they can’t wean the Indian from his shrine, they +promptly dig foundations and build a church there under +heavenly instructions. That’s the story of this shrine of +El Alisal where the priests started to build a little branch +chapel or <i>visita</i>, for pious political reasons––and built it +at the gold shrine. It went down in the priests’ letter +or record as gold of rose, a deep red gold. Well, under +protest, the Indians helped build a shack for a church +altar under a great aliso tree there, but when lightning +struck the priests, killed both and burned the shack, you +can see what that manifestation would do to the Indian +mind.”</p> +<p>Kit halted, panting from the heart-wearying trail, and +looked Pike over disgustedly.</p> +<p>“Holy mackerel! Pike, haven’t you <i>any</i> imagination? +You’ve had this new side to the story for over a month +and never even cheeped about it! I heard you and +Whitely talking out on the porch, but I didn’t hear this!”</p> +<p>“Why, Bub, it’s just the same old story, everyone of +them have half a dozen different sides to it.”</p> +<p>“But this one explains things, this one has logic, this +one blazes a trail!” declared the enthusiast. “This one +explains good and plenty why no Indian has ever cheeped +about it, no money could bribe him to it. Can’t you see? +Of course that lightning was sent by their wrathy gods, +of course it was! But do you note that place of the gold, +and place of the shrine where the water rises, is also some +point where there is a dyke of iron ore near, a magnet +for the lightning? And that is not here in those sandy +mesas and rocky barrancas––it’s to the west in the hills, +Pike. Can’t you see that?”</p> +<p>“Too far from the old north and south trail, Bub. +There was nothing to take padres so far west to the hills. +The Indians didn’t even live there; only strayed up for +nuts and hunting in the season.”</p> +<p>“Save your breath!” jeered Kit. “It’s me to hike +back to Mesa Blanca and offer service at fifty dollars per, +and live like a miser until we can hit the trail again. I +may find a tenderfoot to buy that valley tract of mine up +in Yuma, and get cash out of that. Oh, we will get the +finances somehow! I’ll write a lawyer soon as we get +back to Whitely’s––God! what’s that?”</p> +<p>They halted, holding breath to listen.</p> +<p>“A coyote,” said Pike.</p> +<p>“No, only one animal screams like that––a wildcat +in the timber. But it’s no wildcat.”</p> +<p>Again the sound came. It was either from a distance +or else muffled by the barrier of the hill, a blood-curdling +scream of sickening terror.</p> +<p>A cold chill struck the men as they looked at each +other.</p> +<p>“The carrion crows knew!” said Kit. “You hold the +stock, Pike.”</p> +<p>He quickly slipped his rifle from its case, and started +up the knoll.</p> +<p>“The stock will stand,” said Pike. “I’m with you.”</p> +<p>As the two men ran upward to the summit and away +from the crunching of their own little outfit in the bed of +the dry river, they were struck by the sound of clatter +of hoofs and voices.</p> +<p>“Bub, do you know where we are?” asked Pike––“this +draw slants south and has brought us fair into the +Palomitas trail where it comes into the old Yaqui trail, +and on south to hell.”</p> +<p>“To hell it is, if it’s the slavers again after women,” +said Kit. “Come quiet.”</p> +<p>They reached the summit where cacti and greasewood +served as shield, and slightly below them they saw, against +the low purple hills, clouds of dust making the picture +like a vision and not a real thing, a line of armed horsemen +as outpost guards, and men with roped arms +stumbling along on foot slashed at occasionally with a +<i>reata</i> to hasten their pace. Women and girls were there, +cowed and drooping, with torn garments and bare feet. +Forty prisoners in all Kit counted of those within range, +ere the trail curved around the bend of a hill.</p> +<p>“But that scream?” muttered Kit. “All those women +are silent as death, but that scream?” Then he saw.</p> +<p>One girl was in the rear, apart from the rest of the +group. A blond-bearded man spurred his horse against +her, and a guard lashed at her to keep her behind. Her +scream of terror was lest she be separated from that most +woeful group of miserables. The horse was across the +road, blocking it, as the man with the light beard slid +from the saddle and caught her.</p> +<p>Kit’s gun was thrown into position as Pike caught his +hand.</p> +<p>“<i>No!</i>” he said. “Look at her!”</p> +<p>For the Indian girl was quicker far. From the belt of +her assailant she grasped a knife and lunged at his face +as he held her. His one hand went to his cheek where +the blood streamed, and his other to his revolver.</p> +<p>But even there she was before him, for she held the +knife in both hands against her breast, and threw herself +forward in the haze of dust.</p> +<p>The other guard dismounted and stared at the still +figure on the trail, then kicked her over until he could see +her face. One look was enough. He jerked the knife +from the dead body, wiped it on her <i>manta</i>, and turned +to tie a handkerchief over the cheek of the wounded +horseman.</p> +<p>Kit muttered an oath of horror, and hastily drew the +field glass from its case to stare at the man whose beard, +a false one, had been torn off in the struggle. It was not +easy to re-adjust it so that it would not interfere with the +bandage, and thus he had a very fair view of the man’s +features, and his thoughts were of Billie’s words to Conrad +concerning slave raids in Sonora. Had Billie really +suspected, or had she merely connected his Mexican +friends with reports of raids for girls in the little Indian +pueblos?</p> +<p>Pike reached for the glass, but by the time he could +focus it to fit his eyes, the man had re-mounted, riding +south, and there was only the dead girl left there where +she fell, an Indian girl they both knew, Anita, daughter +of Miguel, the major-domo of Mesa Blanca, whose own +little rancheria was with the Pimans at Palomitas.</p> +<p>“Look above, Cap,” said Kit.</p> +<p>Above two pair of black wings swept in graceful curves +against the saffron sky––waiting!</p> +<p>Rhodes went back to the outfit for pick and shovel, +and when twilight fell they made a grave there in the +dusky cañon of the desert.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_VIII_THE_SLAVE_TRAIL' id='CHAPTER_VIII_THE_SLAVE_TRAIL'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2> +<h3>THE SLAVE TRAIL</h3> +</div> +<p>They camped that night in the barranca, and next +morning a thin blue smoke a mile away drew Kit +out on the roan even in the face of the heat to be, and +the water yet to find. He hoped to discover someone +who had been more fortunate in escape.</p> +<p>He found instead an Indian he knew, one whose gray +hair was matted with blood and who stood as if dazed by +terror at sound of hoofs. It was Miguel, the Pima head +man of Mesa Blanca.</p> +<p>“Why, Miguel, don’t you know me?” asked Kit.</p> +<p>The eyes of the man had a strange look, and he did +not answer. But he did move hesitatingly to the horse +and stroked it.</p> +<p>“<i>Caballo,</i>” he said. “<i>Muy bueno, caballo.</i>”</p> +<p>“Yes,” agreed Pardner’s rider, “very good always.”</p> +<p>“<i>Si</i> señor, always.”</p> +<p>Kit swung from the saddle, and patted the old man’s +shoulder. He was plainly dazed from either a hurt, or +shock, and would without doubt die if left alone.</p> +<p>“Come, you ride, and we’ll go to camp, then find +water,” suggested Kit. “Camp here no good. Come +help me find water.”</p> +<p>That appeal penetrated the man’s mind more clearly. +Miguel had been the well-trusted one of the Indian +vaqueros, used to a certain dependence put upon him, +and he straightened his shoulders for a task.</p> +<p>“<i>Si</i> señor, a good padrone are you, and water it will +be found for you.” He was about to mount when he +halted, bewildered, and looked about him as if in search.</p> +<p>“All––my people––” he said brokenly. “My children +of me––my child!”</p> +<p>Kit knew that his most winning child lay newly covered +under the sand and stones he had gathered by moonlight +to protect the grave from coyotes.</p> +<p>But there was a rustle back of him and a black-eyed +elf, little more than a child, was standing close, shaking +the sand from her hair.</p> +<p>“I am hearing you speak. I know it is you, and I +come,” she said.</p> +<p>It was Tula, the younger daughter of Miguel,––one +who had carried them water from the well on her steady +head, and played with the babies on the earthen floors at +the pueblo of Palomitas.</p> +<p>But the childish humors were gone, and her face wore +the Indian mask of any age.</p> +<p>“Tell me,” said Kit.</p> +<p>“It is at Palomitas. I was in the willows by the well +when they came, Juan Gonsalvo and El Aleman, and +strange soldiers. All the women scream and make battle, +also the men, and that is when my father is hurt in the +head, that is when they are taking my mother, and Anita, +my sister. Some are hiding. And El Aleman and Juan +Gonsalvo make the count, and sent the men for search. +That is how it was.”</p> +<p>“Why do you say El Aleman?” asked Rhodes.</p> +<p>“I seeing him other time with Don José, and hearing +how he talk. Also Anita knowing him, and scream his +name––‘Don Adolf!’––when he catch her. Juan Gonsalvo +has a scarf tied over the face––all but the eyes, but +the Don Adolf has the face now covered with hairs and +I seeing him. They take all the people. My father is +hurt, but lives. He tries to follow and is much sick. My +mother is there, and Anita, my sister, is there. He thinks +it better to find them––it is his head is sick. He walks +far beside me, and does not know me.”</p> +<p>“You are hungry?”</p> +<p>She showed him a few grains of parched corn tied up +in the corner of her <i>manta</i>. “Water I have, and roots +of the sand.”</p> +<p>“Water,” repeated Miguel mechanically. “Yes, I am +the one who knows where it comes. I am the one to +show you.”</p> +<p>The eyes of the girl met Kit’s gaze of understanding.</p> +<p>“The hurt is of his head,” she stated again. “In the +night he made speech of strange old-time things, secret +things, and of fear.”</p> +<p>“So? Well, it was a bad night for old men and Indian +girls in the desert. Let’s be moving.”</p> +<p>Tula picked up her hidden wicker water bottle and +trudged on sandaled feet beside Kit. Miguel went into a +heap in the saddle, dazed, muttering disjointed Indian +words, only one was repeated often enough to make an +impression,––it was Cajame.</p> +<p>“What is Cajame?” he asked the girl, and she gave +him a look of tolerance.</p> +<p>“He was of chiefs the most great. He was killed for +his people. He was the father of my father.”</p> +<p>Kit tried to recall where he had heard the name, but +failed. No one had chanced to mention that Miguel, the +peaceful Piman, had any claims on famous antecedents. +He had always seemed a grave, silent man, intent only on +herding the stock and caring for the family, at the little +cluster of adobes by the well of Palomitas. It was about +two miles from the ranch house, but out of sight. An +ancient river hill terminated in a tall white butte at the +junction of two arroyas, and the springs feeding them +were the deciding influence regarding location of dwellings. +Rhodes could quickly perceive how a raid could +be made on Palomitas and, if no shots were fired, not be +suspected at the ranch house of Mesa Blanca.</p> +<p>The vague sentences of Miguel were becoming more +connected, and Kit, holding him in the saddle, was much +puzzled by some of them.</p> +<p>“It is so, and we are yet dying,” he muttered as he +swayed in the saddle. “We, the Yaqui, are yet dumb as +our fathers bade. But it is the end, señor, and the red +gold of Alisal is our own, and–––”</p> +<p>Then his voice dwindled away in mutterings and +Rhodes saw that the Indian girl was very alert, but +watching him rather than her father as she padded along +beside him.</p> +<p>“Where is it––Alisal?” he asked carelessly, and her +velvet-black eyes narrowed.</p> +<p>“I think not anyone is knowing. It is also evil to +speak of that place,” she said.</p> +<p>“What makes the evil?”</p> +<p>“Maybe so the padres. I no knowing, what you +think?”</p> +<p>But they had reached the place of camp where Cap +Pike had the packs on the animals, waiting and restless.</p> +<p>“Well, you’re a great little collector, Bub,” he observed. +“You start out on the bare sand and gravel and raise a +right pert family. Who’s your friend?”</p> +<p>Despite his cynical comment, he was brisk enough with +help when Miguel slid to the ground, ashen gray, and +senseless.</p> +<p>“Now we are up against trouble, with an old cripple +and a petticoat to tote, and water the other side of the +range.”</p> +<p>But he poured a little of the precious fluid down the +throat of the Indian, who recovered, but stared about +vacantly.</p> +<p>“Yes, señor,” he said nodding his head when his eyes +rested on Rhodes, “as you say––it is for the water––as +you say––it is the end––for the Yaqui. Dead is Cajame––die +all we by the Mexican! To you, señor, my child, +and El Alisal of the gold of the rose. So it will be, +señor. It is the end––the water is there, señor. It is +to you.”</p> +<p>“That’s funny,” remarked Pike, “he’s gone loony and +talking of old chief Cajame of the Yaquis. He was +hanged by the Mexican government for protesting against +loot by the officials. A big man he was, nothing trifling +about Cajame! That old Indian had eighty thousand in +gold in a government bank. Naturally the Christian +rulers couldn’t stand for that sort of shiftlessness in a +heathen! Years ago it was they burned him out, destroyed +his house and family;––the whole thing was +hellish.”</p> +<p>The girl squatting in the sand, never took her eyes off +Pike’s face. It was not so much the words, but the tone +and expression she gave note to, and then she arose and +moved over beside her father.</p> +<p>“No,” she said stolidly, “it is his families here, Yaqui +me––no Pima! Hiding he was when young, hiding with +Pima men all safe. The padre of me is son to Cajame,––only +to you it is told, you Americano!”</p> +<p>Her eyes were pitiful in their strained eagerness, striving +with all her shocked troubled soul to read the faces +of the two men, and staking all her hopes of safety in +her trust.</p> +<p>“You bet we’re Americano, Tula, and so will you be +when we get you over the border,” stated Rhodes recklessly. +“I don’t know how we are going to do it, Cap, +but I swear I’m not going to let a plucky little girl +like that go adrift to be lifted by the next gang of raiders. +We need a mascot anyway, and she is going to be it.”</p> +<p>“You’re a nice sort of seasoned veteran, Bub,” admitted +Pike dryly, “but in adopting a family it might be +as well to begin with a he mascot instead of what you’ve +picked. A young filly like that might turn hoodoo.”</p> +<p>“I reckon I’d have halted for a sober second thought if +it hadn’t been for that other girl under the stones down +there,” agreed Rhodes. “But shucks!––with all the +refugees we’re feeding across the line where’s the obstacle +to this one?”</p> +<p>The old prospector was busy with the wounded head +for the Indian and had no reply ready, but shook his head +ominously. Rhodes scowled and began uncoiling a <i>reata</i> +in case it would be needed to tie Miguel in the saddle.</p> +<p>“We’ve got to get some hustle to this outfit,” he observed +glancing at the sun. “It’s too far to take them +back to Whitely’s, and water has to be had. We are +really nearer to Soledad!”</p> +<p>The Indian girl came closer to him, speaking in a low, +level manner, strange and secretive, yet not a whisper.</p> +<p>“He does know––and water is there at that place,” +she said. “In the night I am hearing him speak all what +the ancients hide. He no can walk to that place, maybe I +no can walk, but go you for the gold in the hidden cañon. +You are Americano,––strong,––is it not? A brave heart +and much of gold of rose would bring safe again the +mother of me and my sister! All this I listen to in the +night. For them the gold of rose by the hidden water is +to be uncovered again. But see, his hands are weak, his +head is like the <i>niño</i> in the reed basket. A stronger heart +must find the way––it is you.”</p> +<p>Lowly, haltingly, she kept on that level-voiced decision. +It was evident that the ravings of her father +through the long hours of the dreadful night had filled +her mind with his one desire: to dare the very gods +that the red gold might be uncovered again, and purchase +freedom for the Indians on the exile road to the coast.</p> +<p>So low were her words that even Cap Pike, a rod away, +only heard the voice, but not the subject. It was further +evident that she meant but the one man to hear. Pike +had white hair and to her mind was, like her father, to +be protected from responsibilities, but Rhodes loomed +strong and kind, and braced by youth for any task.</p> +<p>Rhodes looked at her pityingly, and patted her head.</p> +<p>“I reckon we’re all a little loco, kid,” he observed. +“You’re so paralyzed with the hell you saw, and his +ravings that you think his dope of the gold is all gospel, +but it’s only a dream, sister,––a sick man’s fancy, though +you sure had me going for a minute, plum hypnotized +by the picture.”</p> +<p>“It is to hide always,” she said. “No man must know. +No other eyes must see, only you!”</p> +<p>“Sure,” he agreed.</p> +<p>“You promising all?”</p> +<p>“Sure again! Just to comfort you I promise that +when I find the gold of El Alisal I will use it to help get +your people.”</p> +<p>“Half,” she decided. “Half to you.”</p> +<p>“Half it is! You’re a great little planner for your +size, kid. Too bad it’s only a dream.”</p> +<p>Cap Pike rose to his feet, and gave a hand to Miguel, +who reeled, and then steadied himself gradually.</p> +<p>“Most thanks, señor,” he whispered, “and when we +reach the water–––”</p> +<p>They helped him into the saddle, and Rhodes walked +beside, holding him as he swayed.</p> +<p>They passed the new-made grave in the sand, and +Rhodes turned to the girl. “Sister,” he said, “lift two +stones and add to that pile there, one for you and one +for your father. Also look around and remember this +place.”</p> +<p>“I am no forgetting it,” she said as she lifted a stone +and placed it as he told her. “It is here the exile trail. +I mark the place where you take for me the Americano +road, and not the south road of the lost. So it is,––these +stone make witness.”</p> +<p>“I’ll be shot if I don’t believe you <i>are</i> old Cajames +stock,” said Cap Pike staring at her, and then meeting +the gaze of Rhodes in wonder at her clear-cut summing +up of the situation. “But he was a handful for the government +in his day, Bub, and I’m hornswaggled if I’d +pick out his breed for a kindergarten.”</p> +<p>The girl heard and understood at least the jocular tenor +of his meaning, but no glance in his direction indicated +it. She placed the second stone, and then in obedience +to Rhodes she looked back the way she had come where +the desert growth crisped in the waves of heat. On one +side lay the low, cactus-dotted hillocks, and on the other +the sage green and dull yellow faded into the blue mists +of the eastern range.</p> +<p>“I am no forgetting it, this place ever,” she said and +then lifted her water bottle and trudged on beside Rhodes. +“It is where my trail begins, with you.”</p> +<p>Cape Pike grinned at the joke on the boy, for it looked +as if the Yaqui girl were adopting <i>him</i>!</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_IX_A_MEETING_AT_YAQUI_WELL' id='CHAPTER_IX_A_MEETING_AT_YAQUI_WELL'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2> +<h3>A MEETING AT YAQUI WELL</h3> +</div> +<p>Good luck was with them, for the water hole in +Yaqui cañon had not been either muddied or exhausted, +evidence that the raiders had not ranged that +way. The sorry looking quartette fairly staggered into +the little cañon, and the animals were frantic with desire +to drink their fill.</p> +<p>“I was so near fried that the first gallon fairly sizzled +down my gullet,” confessed Cap Pike after a long glorious +hour of rest under the alamos with saturated handkerchief +over his burning eyes. “That last three mile stretch +was hell’s back yard for me. How you reckon the little +trick over there ever stood it?”</p> +<p>The Indian girl was resting near her father, and every +little while putting water on his face and hands. When +she heard the voice of Pike she sat up, and then started +quietly to pick up dry yucca stalks and bits of brushwood +for a fire.</p> +<p>“Look at that, would you, Bub,” commented Pike, +“the minute she sees you commence to open the cook kit +she is rustling for firewood. That little devil is made +of whalebone for toughness. Why, even the burros are +played out, but she is fresh as a daisy after a half hour’s +rest!”</p> +<p>Rhodes noted that the excitement by which she had +been swayed to confidence in the morning had apparently +burned out on the trail, for she spoke no more, only +served silently as generations of her mothers of the desert +had done, and waited, crouched back of her father, while +the men ate the slender meal of <i>carne seco</i>, <i>atole</i>, and +coffee.</p> +<p>Cap Pike suggested that she join them, but it was her +adopted guardian who protested.</p> +<p>“We won’t change their ways of women,” he decided. +“I notice that when white folks try to they are seldom +understood. How do we know whether that attitude is +an humble effacement, or whether the rank of that martyred +ancester exalts her too greatly to allow equality +with white stragglers of the range?”</p> +<p>Cap Pike snorted disdain.</p> +<p>“You’ll be making a Pocahontas of her if you keep on +that ‘noble Injun’ strain,” he remarked.</p> +<p>“Far be it from me! Pocahontas was a gay little +hanger-on of the camps,––not like this silent owl! Her +mind seems older than her years, and just notice her +care of him, will you? I reckon he’d have wandered +away and died but for her grip on him through the night.”</p> +<p>Miguel sank into sleep almost at once after eating, and +the girl waved over him an alamo branch as a fan with +one hand, and ate with the other, while Rhodes looked +over the scant commissary outfit, reckoning mouths to +feed and distance to supplies. The moon was at full, +and night travel would save the stock considerably. By +the following noon they could reach ranches either west +or north. He was conscious of the eyes of the girl ever +on his face in mute question, and while Pike bathed the +backs of the animals, and led each to stand in the oozy +drainage of the meager well, she came close to Kit and +spoke.</p> +<p>“You say it is a dream, señor, and you laugh, but the +red gold of El Alisal is no dream. He, my father has said +it, and after that, I, Tula, may show it to you. Even my +mother does not know, but I know. I am of the blood to +know. You will take him there, for it is a medicine place, +much medicine! He has said it to you, señor, and that +gift is great. You will come, alone,––with us, señor?”</p> +<p>Kit smiled at her entreaty, patted her hair, and dug +out a worn deck of cards and shuffled them, slowly regarding +the sleeping Indian the while.</p> +<p>“What’s on your mind?” demanded Cap Pike, returning +with his white locks dripping from a skimpy bath. +“Our grub stake is about gone, and you’ve doubled the +outfit. What’s the next move?”</p> +<p>“I’m playing a game in futures with Miguel,” stated +Kit, shuffling the cards industriously.</p> +<p>“Sounds loco to me, Bub,” observed the veteran. +“Present indications are not encouraging as to futures +there. Can’t you see that he’s got a jar from which his +mind isn’t likely to recover? Not crazy, you know, not +a lunatic or dangerous, but just jarred from Pima man +back to Yaqui child. That’s about the way I reckon it.”</p> +<p>“You reckon right, and it’s the Yaqui child mind I’m +throwing the cards for. Best two out of three wins.”</p> +<p>“What the–––”</p> +<p>“Highest cards for K. Rhodes, and I hike across the +border with our outfit; highest cards for Miguel and my +trail is blazed for the red gold of Alisal. This is Miguel’s +hand––ace high for Miguel!”</p> +<p>Again he shuffled and cut.</p> +<p>“A saucy queen, and red at that! Oh, you charmer!”</p> +<p>“You got to hustle to beat that, Bub. Go on, don’t +be stingy.”</p> +<p>Rhodes cut the third time, then stared and whistled.</p> +<p>“The cards are stacked by the Indian! All three covered +with war paint. What’s the use in a poor stray +white bucking against that?”</p> +<p>He picked out the cards and placed them side by side, +ace, king and queen of hearts.</p> +<p>“Three aces could beat them,” suggested Pike. “Go +on Bub, shuffle them up, don’t be a piker.”</p> +<p>Rhodes did, and cut ten of clubs.</p> +<p>“Not even the right color,” he lamented. “Nothing +less than two aces for salvation, and I––don’t––get––them!”</p> +<p>A lonely deuce fell on the sand, and Rhodes eyed it +sulkily as he rolled a cigarette.</p> +<p>“You poor little runt,” he apostrophized the harmless +two-spot. “You’ve kicked me out of the frying pan into +the fire, and a good likely blaze at that!”</p> +<p>“Don’t reckon I care to go any deeper into trouble +than what we’ve found,” decided Pike. “Ordinary Indian +scraps are all in the day’s work––same with +a Mexican outfit––but, Bub, this slave-hunting graft +game with the state soldiery doing the raiding is too +strong a combine for two lone rangers to buck against. +Me for the old U. S. border, and get some of this devilish +word to the peace advocates at home.”</p> +<p>“They wouldn’t believe you, and only about two papers +along the border would dare print it,” observed Rhodes. +“Every time a band of sunny Mexicans loot a ranch or +steal women, the word goes north that again the bloodthirsty +Yaquis are on the warpath! Those poor devils +never leave their fields of their own will, and don’t know +why the Americans have a holy dread of them. Yet the +Yaqui is the best worker south of the line.”</p> +<p>“If he wasn’t the price wouldn’t be worth the slave +trader’s valuable time,” commented Pike.</p> +<p>The Indian girl made a quick gesture of warning, just +a sweep outward of her hand along the ground. She +didn’t even look at them, but down the arroya, the trail +they had come.</p> +<p>“<i>Caballos, hombres!</i>” she muttered in her throat.</p> +<p>“The kid’s right,––hear them!” said Rhodes, and then +he looked at him, and made a strange movement of eyes +and head to direct the attention back of her in the +thicket of cactus and squat greasewood. He did not look +at once, but finally with a circular sweep of the locality, +he saw the light glint on a gun barrel along the edge of +a little mesa above them.</p> +<p>“Nice friendly attention,” he observed. “Someone +sizing us up. Time to hit the trail anyway, Cap;––to get +through on the grub we have to travel tonight.”</p> +<p>He rose and handed the water bottles to the girl to +fill, while he tightened cinches.</p> +<p>“It’s a long day’s trip, Cap,” he stated thoughtfully, +“a long day out to Carrizal, and a long one back to Mesa +Blanca. I’ll divide the dust and the grub fifty-fifty, and +you get out to some base of supplies. I’d rather you’d +take Pardner, and keep on going across the line. The +trail is clear from here for you, and enough water holes +and settlements for you to get through. I don’t think +Pardner would last for the back trip, but you can save him +by riding at night; the burro and mule are best for us. +Here’s the dust.”</p> +<p>While Pike had been talking of crossing the border, +Kit had been rapidly readjusting the provision so that +the old chap had enough to carry him to the first settlement, +and the gold dust would more than pay for provision +the rest of the way.</p> +<p>“Why––say, Bub!” remonstrated Pike. “You’re so +sudden! I don’t allow to leave you by your lonesomes +like this. Why, I had planned–––”</p> +<p>“There’s nothing else to do,” decided Rhodes crisply. +“If you don’t beat it with Pardner, we’ll lose him, sure! +I’m going to take these Indians back, and you can help +most by waiting north of the line till you hear from me. +I’ll get word to you at Granados. So, if there should be +any trouble with these visitors of ours, your trail is +clear;––savvy?”</p> +<p>Two men rode into view in the bend of the arroya. A +cartridge belt across each shoulder, and one around each +waist, was the most important part of their equipment.</p> +<p>“<i>Buenos dias</i>, señors,” said one politely, while his little +black eyes roved quickly over the group. “Is there +still water to be found in the well here? <i>Dios!</i> it is the +heat of hell down there in the valley.”</p> +<p>“At your service, señor, is water fresh drawn,” said +Rhodes, and turned to the girl, “Oija, Tulita!––water +for the gentlemen. You ride far, señor?”</p> +<p>“From Soledad wells.”</p> +<p>“Yes, I know the brand,” remarked Rhodes.</p> +<p>“This is a good season in which to avoid too much +knowledge, or too good a memory, señor,” observed the +man who had not spoken. “Many herds will change hands +without markets before tranquility is over in Mexico.”</p> +<p>“I believe you, señor, and we who have nothing will +be the lucky ones,” agreed Rhodes, regarding the man +with a new interest. He was not handsome, but there +was a something quick and untamed in his keen, black +eyes, and though the mouth had cruel hard lines, his tone +was certainly friendly, yet dominating.</p> +<p>“What have you here?” he asked with a gesture toward +Miguel.</p> +<p>“My Indian who tried to save his women from slavers, +and was left for dead,” stated Rhodes frankly.</p> +<p>“And this?”</p> +<p>He pointed to the girl filling again the water bottles.</p> +<p>“She is mine, señor. We go to our own homes.”</p> +<p>“Hum! you should be enlisted in the fights and become +capitan, but these would drop by the trail if you left +them. Well, another time perhaps, señor! For the +water many thanks. <i>Adios!</i>” and with wave of the hand +they clattered down the arroya.</p> +<p>“Queer,” muttered Rhodes, “did you catch that second +chap signal to the gun man in the cactus? He craw-fished +back over the mesa and faded away.”</p> +<p>“They didn’t come for water alone––some scouten’ +party trailin’ every sign found,” decided Pike. “I’ll +bet they had us circled before the two showed themselves. +Wonder who they are after?”</p> +<p>“Anyway they didn’t think us worth while gathering +in, which is a comfort. That second fellow looks like +someone I’ve crossed trails with, but I can’t place him.”</p> +<p>“They’ll place you all right, all right!” prophesied +Pike darkly, “you and your interesting family won’t +need a brand.”</p> +<p>Rhodes stared at him a moment and then grinned.</p> +<p>“Right you are, Cap. Wouldn’t it be pie for the gossips +to slice up for home consumption?”</p> +<p>He kept on grinning as he looked at the poor bit +of human flotsam whom he had dubbed “the owl” because +of her silence and her eyes. She aroused Miguel +without words, watching him keenly for faintest sign of +recovery. The food and sleep had refreshed him in body, +but the mind was far away. To the girl he gave no +notice, and after a long bewildered stare at Rhodes he +smiled in a deprecating way.</p> +<p>“Your pardon, Don José, that I outsleep the camp,” +he muttered haltingly. “It is a much sickness of the +head to me.”</p> +<p>“For that reason must you ride slowly today,” stated +Rhodes with quick comprehension of the groping mind, +though the “Don José” puzzled him, and at first chance +he loitered behind with the girl and questioned her.</p> +<p>“How makes itself that I must know all the people +in the world before I was here on earth?” she asked +morosely? “Me he does not know, Don José is of Soledad +and is of your tallness, so–––”</p> +<p>“Know you the man who came for water at the cañon +well?” he asked, and she looked at him quickly and +away.</p> +<p>“The name of the man was not spoke by him, also he +said a true word of brands on herds––these days.”</p> +<p>“In these days?” reflected Rhodes, amazed at the ungirlish +logic. “You know what he meant when he +said that?”</p> +<p>“We try that we know––all we, for the Deliverer is +he named, and by that name only he is spoke in the +prayers we make.”</p> +<p>Rhodes stared at her, incredulous, yet wondering if the +dusty vaquero looking rider of brief words could be +the man who was called outlaw, heathen, and bandit by +Calendria, and “Deliverer” by these people of bondage.</p> +<p>“You think that is true;––he will be the deliverer?”</p> +<p>“I not so much think, I am only remembering what the +fathers say and the mothers. Their word is that he will +be the man, if––if–––”</p> +<p>“Well, if what?” he asked as she crossed herself, and +dropped her head.</p> +<p>“I am not wanting to say that thing. It is a scare on +the heart when it is said.”</p> +<p>“I’d rather be prepared for the scare if it strikes me,” +he announced, and after a thoughtful silence while she +padded along beside him, she lowered her voice as though +to hide her words from the evil fates.</p> +<p>“Then will I tell it you:––a knife in the back is what +they fear for him, or poison in his cup. He is hated +by strong haters, also he makes them know fear. I hearing +all that in the patio at Palomitas, and old Tio Polonio +is often saying all saviors are crucified. How you +think?”</p> +<p>Rhodes replied vaguely as to the wisdom of Tio +Polonio, for the girl was giving him the point of view +of the peon, longing for freedom, yet fatalistic as the +desert born ever are. And she had known the rebel +leader, Ramon Rotil, all the time!</p> +<p>He had no doubt but that she was right. Her statement +explained the familiar appearance of the man he +had not met before, though he had seen pictures in newspapers +or magazines. Then he fell to wondering what +Ramon Rotil was doing in a territory so far from the +troops, and–––</p> +<p>“Don José is one of the strong men who are hating +him much,” confided the child. “Also Don José comes +not north alone ever anymore, always the soldiers are +his guard. Tio Polonio tells things of these soldiers.”</p> +<p>“What kind of things?”</p> +<p>“They are killing boys like rabbits in Canannea,––pacifico +boys who could grow to Calendrista soldiers. +Such is done by the guard of Don José and all the friends +of the Deliverer are killed with a quickness. That is how +the men of Don José Perez please him most, and in the +south there are great generals who work also with him, +and his hand is made strong, also heavy, and that is what +Tio Polonio is telling us often.”</p> +<p>When they reached the mouth of the little cañon of +the Yaqui well where the trails divide, Pike shook hands +and climbed into the saddle of Pardner.</p> +<p>“It’s the first time I ever took the easy way out, and +left the fight alone to a chum,––but I’ll do it, Bub, because +you could not make a quick get-away with me +tagging along. Things look murkier in this territory +every minute. You’ll either have the time of your life, or +a headstone early in the game. Billie and I will put it up +though we won’t know where you’re planted. I don’t +like it, but the minutes and water for the trail are both +precious. Come out quick as you can. So long!”</p> +<p>Pardner, refreshed by cooling drink and an hour’s +standing in wet mud of the well drainage, stepped off +briskly toward the north, while Rhodes lifted Tula to +the back of the pack mule, and Miguel unheeding all +plans or changes, drooped with closed eyes on the back +of the little burro. The manager of the reorganized gold-search +syndicate strode along in the blinding glare of the +high sun, herding them ahead of him, and as Pike turned +for a last look backward at a bend of the trail, the words +of the old darkey chant came to him on the desert air:</p> +<table summary=''><tr><td> +<p class='cg'><i>Oh, there was a frog lived in the spring!</i></p> +</td></tr></table> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_X_A_MEXICAN_EAGLET' id='CHAPTER_X_A_MEXICAN_EAGLET'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER X</h2> +<h3>A MEXICAN EAGLET</h3> +</div> +<p>The silver wheel of the moon was rolling into the +west when the Indian girl urged the mule forward, +and caught the bridle of the burro.</p> +<p>“What is it, Tula?” asked Rhodes, “we are doing +well on the trail to Mesa Blanca; why stop here?”</p> +<p>“Look,” she said. “See you anything? Know you +this place in the road?”</p> +<p>He looked over the sand dunes and scrubby desert +growths stretching far and misty under the moon, and, +then to the rugged gray range of the mountain spur rising +to the south. They were skirting the very edge of it +where it rose abruptly from the plain; a very great gray +upthrust of granite wall beside them was like a gray +blade slanted out of the plain. He had noticed it as one +of the landmarks on the road to Mesa Blanca, and on its +face were a few curious scratchings or peckings, one a +rude sun symbol, and others of stars and waves of water. +He recalled remarking to Pike that it must have been +a prayer place for some of the old tribes.</p> +<p>“Yes, I know the place, when we reach this big rock +it means that we are nearing the border of the ranch, this +rock wall tells me that. We can be at Palomitas before +noon.”</p> +<p>“No,” she said, and got down from the mule, “not to +Palomitas now. Here we carry the food, and here +we hide the saddles, and the mule go free. The burro +we take, nothing else.”</p> +<p>“Where is a place to hide saddles here?” and he made +gesture toward the great granite plane glistening in the +moonlight.</p> +<p>“A place is found,” she returned, “it is better we ride +off the trail at this place.”</p> +<p>She did so, circling back the way they had come until +they were opposite a more broken part of the mountain +side, then she began deftly to help unsaddle.</p> +<p>“Break no brush and make all tracks like an Apache +on the trail,” she said.</p> +<p>Miguel sat silent on the burro as if asleep. He had +never once roused to give heed to the words or the +trail through the long ride. At times where the way was +rough he would mutter thanks at the help of Kit and sink +again into stupor.</p> +<p>“I can’t spare that mule,” protested Kit, but she nodded +her head as if that had been all thought out.</p> +<p>“He will maybe not go far, there is grass and a very +little spring below. Come now, I show you that hidden +trail.”</p> +<p>She picked up one of the packs and led the burro.</p> +<p>“But we can’t pack all this at once,” decided Kit, who +was beginning to feel like the working partner in a +nightmare.</p> +<p>“Two times,” said Tula, holding up her fingers, “I +show you.”</p> +<p>She led the way, nervous, silent and in haste, as though +in fear of unseen enemies. Rhodes looked after her +irritably. He was fagged and worn out by one of the +hardest trails he had ever covered, and was in no condition +to solve the curious problems of the Indian mind, +but the girl had proven a good soldier of the desert, and +was, for the first time, betraying anxiety, so as the burro +disappeared in the blue mist, and only the faint patter +of his hoofs told the way he had gone, Kit picked up the +saddle and followed.</p> +<p>The way was rough and there was no trail, simply +stumbling between great jagged slabs hewn and tossed +recklessly by some convulsion of nature. Occasionally +dwarfed and stunted brush, odorous with the faint dew +of night, reached out and touched his face as he followed +up and up with ever the forbidding lances of granite +sharp edged against the sky. From the plain below there +was not even an indication that progress would be possible +for any human being over the range of shattered +rock, and he was surprised to turn a corner and find Tula +helping Miguel from the saddle in a little nook where +scant herbage grew.</p> +<p>“No, not in this place we camp,” she said. “It is good +only to hide saddles and rest for my father. Dawn is on +the trail, and the other packs must come.”</p> +<p>He would have remonstrated about a return trip, but +she held up her hand.</p> +<p>“It must be, if you would live,” she said. “The eyes +of you have not yet seen what they are to see, it is not to +be told. All hiding must be with care, or–––”</p> +<p>She made swift pantomime of sighting along a gun +barrel at him, and even in the shadows he could fancy the +deadly half closing of her ungirlish eyes. Tula did not +play gaily.</p> +<p>Tired as he was, Kit grinned.</p> +<p>“You win,” he said. “Let’s hit what would be the +breeze if this fried land could stir one up.”</p> +<p>They plodded back without further converse, secured +the packs, and this time it was Rhodes who led, as there +appeared no possible way but the one they had covered. +Only once did he make a wrong turn and a sharp “s-st” +from the girl warned him of the mistake.</p> +<p>They found Miguel asleep, and Kit Rhodes would willingly +have sunk down beside him and achingly striven for +the same forgetfulness, but Tula relentlessly shook Miguel +awake, got him on the burro, unerringly designated the +food bag in the dark, and started again in the lead.</p> +<p>“I reckon you’re some sort of Indian devil,” decided +Kit, shouldering the bag. “No mere mortal ever made +this trail or kept it open.”</p> +<p>Several times the towering walls suggested the bottom +of a well, and as another and another loomed up ahead, +he gloomily prophesied an ultimate wall, and the need of +wings.</p> +<p>Then, just as the first faint light began in the eastern +heavens, he was aware that the uneven trail was going +down and down, zig-zagging into a ravine like a great +gray bowl, and the bottom of it filled with shadows of +night.</p> +<p>The girl was staggering now with exhaustion though +she would not confess it. Once she fell, and he lifted her +thinking she was hurt, but she clung to him, shaking from +weakness, but whispering, “<i>Pronto, pronto!</i>”</p> +<p>“Sure!” he agreed, “all the swiftness the outfit can +muster.”</p> +<p>Curious odors came to him from the shadowy bowl, not +exactly a pleasing fragrance, yet he knew it––But his +mind refused to work. As the trail grew wider, and +earth was under his feet instead of rock slivers and +round boulders, he discovered that he was leading the +burro, the grub sack over his shoulder, and with the other +arm was supporting the girl, who was evidently walking +with closed eyes, able to progress but not to guide herself.</p> +<p>Then there was the swish-swish of grasses about their +feet and poor Bunting snatched mouthfuls as all three +staggered downward. The light began to grow, and +somewhere in the shadowy bowl there was the most blest +sound known in the desert, the gurgle of running water!</p> +<p>“We hear it––but we can’t believe it––old Buntin’,” +muttered Kit holding the burro from steady and stubborn +attempts to break away, “and you are just loco +enough to think you smell it.”</p> +<p>Then suddenly their feet struck rock again, not jagged +or slippery fragments, but solid paving, and a whiff of +faint mist drifted across his face in the gray of the first +dawn, and the burro craned his neck forward at the +very edge of a black rock basin where warm vapor struck +the nostrils like a soporific.</p> +<p>The girl roused herself at a wordless exclamation from +Rhodes, and began automatically helping Miguel from +the saddle, and stripping him to the breechcloth.</p> +<p>Kit’s amazement startled him out of his lethargy of +exhaustion. It was light enough now to see that her +eyes were bloodshot, and her movements quick with a +final desperation.</p> +<p>“There!” she said and motioned towards a shelving +place in the rock, “there––medicine––all quick!”</p> +<p>She half lifted the staggering, unconscious Indian, and +Kit, perceiving her intention, helped her with Miguel to +the shallow edge of the basin where she rolled him over +until he was submerged to the shoulder in the shallow +bath, cupping her hands she scooped water and drenched +his face.</p> +<p>“Why,––it’s warm!” muttered Kit.</p> +<p>“Medicine,” said Tula, and staggered away.</p> +<p>How Rhodes shed his own garments and slipped into +the basin beside Miguel he never knew, only he knew he +had found an early substitute for heaven. It was warm +sulphur water,––tonic, refreshing and infinitely soothing +to every sore muscle and every frazzled nerve. He ducked +his head in it, tossed some more over the head and shoulders +of the sleeping Indian, and then, submerged to his +arms, he promptly drifted into slumber himself.</p> +<p>He wakened to the sound of Baby Bunting pawing +around the grub pack. Hunger was his next conviction, +for the heavenly rest in the medicine bath had taken every +vestige of weariness away. He felt lethargic from the +sulphur fumes, and more sleep was an enticing thought, +yet he put it from him and got into his clothes after the +use of a handkerchief as a bath towel. Miguel still slept +and Kit bent over him in some concern, for the sleep appeared +curiously deep and still, the breath coming lightly, +yet he did not waken when lifted out of the water and +covered with a poncho in the shade of a great yucca.</p> +<p>“I reckon it’s some dope in these hot springs,” decided +Kit. “I feel top heavy myself, and won’t trouble him +till I’ve rustled some grub and have something to offer. +Well, Buntin’, we are all here but the daughter of the +Glen,” he said, rescuing the grub sack, “and if she was +a dream and you inveigled me here by your own diabolical +powers, I’ve a hunch this is our graveyard; we’ll +never see the world and its vanities again!”</p> +<p>A bit of the blue and scarlet on a bush above caught +his eye. It was the belt of Tula, and he went upwards +vaguely disturbed that he had drifted into ease without +question of her welfare.</p> +<p>He found her emerging from a smaller rock basin, her +one garment dripping a wet trail as she came towards +him. There was no smile in her greeting, but a look of +content, of achievement.</p> +<p>“My father,” she said, “he is–––”</p> +<p>“Sleeping beyond belief! good medicine sleep, I hope.”</p> +<p>She nodded her head comprehendingly, for she had +done the impossible and had triumphed. She looked at +the sack of food he held.</p> +<p>“There is one place for fire, and other water is there. +Come, it is to you.”</p> +<p>She struck off across the sun-bathed little grass plot +to a jumble of rock where a cool spring emerged, ran only +a few rods, and sank again out of sight. The shattered +rock was as a sponge, so completely was the water sucked +downward again. Marks of burro’s hoofs were there.</p> +<p>“Baby Buntin’ been prospecting while we wallowed in +the dope bath,” said Kit.</p> +<p>“Maybe so, maybe not,” uttered the Indian child, if +such she could be called after the super-woman initiative +of that forbidding trail. She was down on her knees +peering at the tracks in the one little wet spot below +the spring.</p> +<p>“Two,” she said enigmatically. “That is good, much +good. It will be meat.”</p> +<p>Then she saw him pulling dry grasses and breaking +branches of scrub growth for a fire, and she stood up +and motioned him to follow. They were in a narrow, +deep ravine separated from the main one by the miniature +plain of lush grass, a green cradle of rest in the heart of +the gray hills. She went as directly upward as the broken +rock would permit, and suddenly he followed her into a +blackened cave formed by a great granite slab thrusting itself +upwards and enduring through the ages when the +broken rock had shattered down to form an opposite wall. +And the cloud bursts of the desert had swept through, and +washed the sands clear, leaving a high black roof slanting +upwards to the summit.</p> +<p>Tula moved ahead into the far shadows. He could see +that beyond her somewhere a ray of light filtered blue, but +he halted at the entrance, puzzled at the black roof where +all the rock of the mountain was gray and white except +where mineral streaks were of reds and russets and +moldy greens. Then he put his hand up and touched +the roof and understood. Soot from ancient fires was +discernible on his hand, flakes of it fell to the floor, dry +and black, scaling off under pressure. The scales were +thick and very old, like blackened moss. He had seen +blackened rock like that in other volcanic regions, but +this was different.</p> +<p>“It is here,” said Tula, and he followed the voice +through a darker shadowed bit of the way, then through +the ray of light, and then–––</p> +<p>The first thing he saw was the raised hearth of a rather +pretentious fireplace, or place of fire, for it resembled not +at all the tiny little cooking hearth of desert Indians. A +stone hatchet lay beside it, and, what was much more +surprising, two iron instruments of white man’s manufacturing, +a wedge and a long chisel.</p> +<p>He picked up the chisel, weighed it in his hand, and +looked at the girl. He was now becoming accustomed +to the dim light and could see her eyes following his +every movement with curious questioning. There was a +tiny frowning wrinkle between her brows as if serious +matters were being decided there.</p> +<p>“It is here,” she said again. “Maybe someone dies +when a white friend is shown the way––maybe I die, +who knows?––but it is here––El Alisal of the gold of +the rose!”</p> +<p>She made a little gesture and moved aside, and the +chisel fell to the stone floor with a clang as Kit shouted +and dropped on his knees before an incredible thing in +the gray wall.</p> +<p>That upthrust of the rock wall had strange variety of +color, and between the granite and the gray limestone +there was a ragged rusty band of iron as a note of contrast +to the sprinkling of glittering quartz catching the +ray of light, but the quartz was sprinkled on a six inch +band of yellow––not the usual quartz formation with +dots of color, but a deep definite yellow held together by +white crystals.</p> +<p>“The red gold! it’s the red gold!” he said feeling the +yellow surface instinctively.</p> +<p>“Yes, señor, it is the red gold of El Alisal, and it is to +you,” but her eyes were watching him hungrily as she +spoke. And something of that pathetic fear penetrated +his amazed mind, and he remembered.</p> +<p>“No, Tula, only my share to me. I do the work, but +the great share is to you, that it may buy back your +mother from the slavers of the south.”</p> +<p>“Also my sister,” said the girl, and for the first time +she wept.</p> +<p>“Come, come! This is the time for joy. The danger +is gone, and we are at rest beside this––why, it’s a dream +come true, the golden dream! Come, help me cook that +we may be strong for the work.”</p> +<p>She helped silently, fetching water and more sticks for +the fire.</p> +<p>There were many things to ask, but he asked no questions, +only gazed between bites and sups at the amazing +facts facing him.</p> +<p>“I’ve seen ores and ores in my time, but nothing like +this!” he exulted. “Why, I can ‘high grade’ mule loads +of this and take it out without smelting,” and then he +grinned at his little partner. “We just struck it in time,––meat +is mighty near done.”</p> +<p>“Plenty meat!” she said nodding her head wisely. +“Burro, big burro, wild burro! I see track.”</p> +<p>“Wild burro? Sure, that makes it simple till we rest +up. You are one great little commissary sergeant.”</p> +<p>He noted that the pitch of the roof towards the face +of the mountain carried the smoke in a sort of funnel +to be sifted through high unseen crannies of shattered +rock above. All was dark in the end of the gallery, but a +perceptible draught from the portal bore the smoke upward.</p> +<p>“It’s too good to be true,” he decided, looking it over. +“I’m chewing bacon and it tastes natural, but I’m betting +with myself that this is a dream, and I’ll wake up in the +dope pond with my mouth full of sulphur water.”</p> +<p>The girl watched him gravely, and ate sparingly, +though parched corn had been her only sustenance +through the trail of the dreadful night. Her poor sandals +were almost cut from her feet, and even while jesting +at the unreality of it all, Kit was making mental note of +her needs––the wild burro would at least provide green +hide sandals for her until better could be found, and she +had earned the best.</p> +<p>He was amazed at her keenness. She did not seem to +think, but instinctively to feel her way to required knowledge, +caring for herself in the desert as a fledgling bird +tossed by some storm from the home nest. He remembered +there were wild burros in the Sonora hills, but +that she should have already located one on this most +barren of mountains was but another unbelievable touch +to the trail of enchantment, and after a century of lost +lives and treasure in the search for the Indian mine, to +think that this Indian stray, picked up on a desolate trail, +should have been the one to know that secret and lead +him to it!</p> +<p>“Other times you have been here?” he asked as he +poured coffee in a tin for Miguel, and dug out the last +box of crackers from the grub pack.</p> +<p>“Once I come, one time, and it was to make prayer +here. It is mine to know, but not my mother, not other +peoples, only the father of me and me. If I die then he +show the trail to other one, not if I live. That is how.”</p> +<p>“He surely picked the right member of his honorable +family,” decided Kit. “Only once over the trail, once?”</p> +<p>“I knowing it long before I see it,” she explained +gravely. “The father of me make that trail in the sand +for my eyes when I am only little. I make the same for +him in a game to play. When I make every turn right, +and name the place, and never forget––then he bring me, +for it is mine to know.”</p> +<p>“Sufferin’ cats!” muttered Rhodes, eyeing her in wonder. +“The next time I see an Indian kid playing in the +sand, I’ll linger on the trail and absorb wisdom!”</p> +<p>“Come,” she said, “you not seeing the one enchant +look, the––how you say?––the not believe look.”</p> +<p>“Well, take it from me, Cinderella, I’m seeing not believe +things this very now,” announced Kit, giving a fond +look towards that comforting gleam of yellow metal bedding +flecks of quartz. “I see it, but will have to sleep, +and wake up to find it in the same place before I can believe +what I think I see.”</p> +<p>With the food and drink for Miguel in his hands he +had followed the girl through the shadowed gallery of +the slanting smoke-stained roof. His eyes were mainly +directed to the rock floor lest he stumble and spill the +precious coffee; thus he gave slight thought to the little +ravine up which she had led him to the cave which was +also a mine.</p> +<p>But as he stepped out into the sunlight she stood looking +up into his face with almost a smile, the first he had +seen in her wistful tragic eyes. Then she lifted her +hand and pointed straight out, and the “enchant look,” +the “not believe” look was there! He stared as at a +mirage for an incredulous moment, and then whispered, +“Great God of the Desert!”</p> +<p>For a little space, a few rods only, the mountain dipped +steeply, and trickling water from above fell in little cascades +to lower levels, where a great jagged wall of impregnable +granite arose as a barrier along the foot of +the mountain.</p> +<p>But he was above the sharp outline of the huge saw +with the jagged granite teeth, and between the serrated +edges he could look far across the yellow-gray reaches +of sand and desert growths. Far and wide was the “not +believe” look, to the blue phantom-like peaks on the +horizon, but between the two ranges was a white line +with curious dots drifting and whirling like flies along it, +and smoke curling up, and–––</p> +<p>Then it was he uttered the incredulous cry, for he was +indeed viewing the thing scarce to be believed.</p> +<p>He was looking across the great Rancho Soledad, and +the white line against the sand was the wall of the old +mission where the vaqueros were herding a band of +horses into the great quadrangle of the one-time patio +turned into a corral since the buildings on three sides had +melted down again into mother earth.</p> +<p>He remembered riding around these lines of the old +arches seeking trace of that door of the legend,––the door +from which the aliso tree of the mine could be seen,––and +there was nowhere a trace of a door.</p> +<p>“Queer that every other part of the prospect developed +according to specifications and not the door,” he grumbled +whimsically. “Cinderella, why have you hid the door +in the wall from me?”</p> +<p>She looked around uncertainly, not understanding.</p> +<p>“No portal but it,” she said with a movement of her +head towards the great slab forming a pointed arch against +the mountain and shielding the unbelievable richness +there, “also El Alisal, the great tree, is gone. This was +the place of it; the old ones tell my father it was as chief +of the trees and stand high to be seen. The sky fire took +it, and took the padres that time they make an altar in +this place.”</p> +<p>“Um,” assented Kit, noting traces of ancient charcoal +where the aliso tree had grown great in the moisture of +the spring before lightning had decided its tragic finish, +“a great storm it must have been to send sky fire enough +to kill them all.”</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Tula quietly,––“also there was already +another shrine at this place, and the gods near.”</p> +<p>He glanced at her quickly and away.</p> +<p>“Sure,” he agreed, “sure, that’s how it must have been. +They destroyed the aliso and there was no other landmark +to steer by. White men might find a thousand other +dimples in the range but never this one, the saw-tooth +range below us has the best of them buffaloed. Come +along, Señorita Aladdin, and help me with the guardian +of the treasure. We’ve got to look after Miguel, and +then start in where the padres left off. And you might +do a prayer stunt or two at the shrine you mentioned. +We need all the good medicine help you can evoke.”</p> +<p>As they approached the pool where the faintest mist +drifted above the water warm from hidden fires of the +mountain, Kit halted before he quite reached the still form +beside the yucca, and, handing the food and drink to the +girl, he went forward alone.</p> +<p>He was puzzled afterward as to why he had done that, +for no fold of the garment was disturbed, nothing visible +to occasion doubt, yet he bent over and lifted the cover +very gently. The face of Miguel was strangely gray and +there was no longer sign of breath. The medicine of +the sacred pool had given him rest, but not life.</p> +<p>He replaced the blanket and turned to the girl;––the +last of the guardians of the shrine of the red gold.</p> +<p>“Little sister,” he said, “Miguel grew tired of the +trails of a hard land. He has made his choice to go +asleep here in the place where you tell me the gods are +near. He does not want us to have sad hearts, for he was +very sad and very tired, and he will not need food, Tula.”</p> +<p>Her eyes filled with tears, but she made no reply, only +unbound her hair as she had seen mourning women do, +and seated herself apart, her face hidden in her arms.</p> +<p>“No one is left to mourn but me, and I mourn!” she +half chanted. “I say it for the mother of me, and for +my sister, that the ghosts may listen. Happily he is going +now from hard trails! He has chosen at this place! +Happily he has chosen, and only we are sad. No debt +is ours to pay at this place; he has chosen––and a life is +paid at El Alisal! Happily he will find the trail of the +birds from this place, and the trail of the clouds over the +high mountain. No one is left to mourn but me; and I +mourn!”</p> +<p>Rhodes understood no word of her lamentations, +chanted now loudly, now lowly, at intervals hour after +hour that day. He set grimly to work digging a grave +in the lower part of the ravine, gathering dry grass for +lining as best he could to make clear to the girl that no +lack of care or honor was shown the last man of Cajame’s +stock.</p> +<p>The work took most of the day, for he carried stone +and built a wall around the grave and covered it with +slatelike slabs gathered from a shattered upheaval of +long ago.</p> +<p>Tula watched all this gravely, and with approval, for +she drew with her finger the mark of the sun symbol on +one of the slabs.</p> +<p>“It is well to make that mark,” she said, “for the sons +of Cajame were priests of the sun. The sign is on the +great rock of the trail, and it is theirs.”</p> +<p>With the chisel he carved the symbol as she suggested, +glad to do anything for the one mourner for the dead man +who had offered the treasure of the desert to him.</p> +<p>“That is how he made choice,” she said when it was +marked plainly. “Me, I think he was leading us on the +night trail to this place––I think so. He is here to guard +the gold of El Alisal for you. That is how it will be. He +has made choice.”</p> +<p>Kit got away by himself to think over the unexpected +situation. The girl climbed to a higher point, seated herself, +and continued her chant of mourning. He knew she +was following, as best she knew, the traditional formalities +of a woman for the death of a chief. He found himself +more affected by that brave fatalistic recital, now +loud and brave, now weirdly slow and tender, than if she +had given way to tempests of tears. A man could comfort +and console a weeping stray of the desert, but not a +girl who sat with unbound hair under the yucca and called +messages to the ghosts until the sun,––a flaming ball of +fire,––sank beyond the far purple hills.</p> +<p>And that was the first day of many days at the hidden +treasure place of the red gold.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XI_GLOOM_OF_BILLIE' id='CHAPTER_XI_GLOOM_OF_BILLIE'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2> +<h3>GLOOM OF BILLIE</h3> +</div> +<p>The return of Captain Pike on Kit’s horse was a +matter of considerable conjecture at Granados, but +the old prospector was so fagged that at first he said +little, and after listening to the things Billie had to tell +him––he said less.</p> +<p>“That explains the curious ways of the Mexicans as +I reached the border,” he decided. “They’d look first +at the horse, then at me, but asked no questions, and told +me nothing. Queer that no word reached us about Singleton! +No, it isn’t either. We never crossed trails +with any from up here. There’s so much devilment of +various sorts going on down there that a harmless chap +like Singleton wouldn’t be remembered.”</p> +<p>“Conrad’s down at Magdalena now, but we seldom +know how far he ranges. Sometimes he stays at the +lower ranch a week at a time, and he might go on to +Sinaloa for all we know. He seems always busy and is +extremely polite, but I gave him the adobe house across +the arroya after Papa Phil––went. I know he has the +Mexicans thinking Kit Rhodes came back for that murder; +half of them believe it!”</p> +<p>“Well, I reckon I can prove him an alibi if it’s needed. +I’ll go see the old judge.”</p> +<p>“He’ll tell you not to travel at night, or alone, if you +know anything,” she prophesied. “That’s what he tells +me. To think of old Rancho Granados coming to that +pass! We never did have trouble here except a little when +Apaches went on the warpath before my time, and now +the whole border is simmering and ready to boil over if +anyone struck a match to it. The judge hints that Conrad +is probably only one cog in the big border wheel, and +they are after the engineer who turns that wheel, and +do you know you haven’t told me one word of Kit +Rhodes, or whether he’s alive or dead!”</p> +<p>“Nothing to tell! We didn’t find it, and he took the +back trail with an Indian girl and her daddy, and–––”</p> +<p>“An––Indian girl?”</p> +<p>“Yes, a queer little kid who was in a lot of trouble. +Her father was wounded in one of the fracases they +have down there every little while. Nary one of us +could give an address when we took different trails, for +we didn’t know how far we’d be allowed to travel––the +warring factions are swarming and troublesome over +the line.”</p> +<p>“Well, if a girl could stand the trail, it doesn’t look +dangerous.”</p> +<p>“Looks are deceptive, child,––and this isn’t just any +old girl! It’s a rare bird, it’s tougher than whalebone +and possessed of a wise little devil. She froze to Kit as a +<i>compadre</i> at first chance. He headed back to Mesa +Blanca. I reckon they’d make it,––barring accidents.”</p> +<p>“Mesa Blanca? That’s the Whitely outfit?”</p> +<p>“Um!” assented Pike, “but I reckon Whitely’s hit the +trail by now. There’s no real profit in raising stock for +the warriors down there; each band confiscates what he +needs, and gives a promissory note on an empty treasury.”</p> +<p>“Well, the attraction must be pretty strong to hold +him down there in spite of conditions,” said Billie +gloomily.</p> +<p>“Attraction? Sure. Kit’s gone loco on that attraction,” +agreed the old prospector, and then with a reminiscent +light in his tired old eyes he added, “I reckon +there’s no other thing so likely to snare a man on a +desert trail. You see, Billie-child, it’s just as if the great +God had hid a treasure in the beginning of the world to +stay hid till the right lad ambled along the trail, and lifted +the cover, and when a fellow has youth, and health and +not a care in the world, the search alone is a great game––And +when he finds it!––why, Billie, the dictionary hasn’t +words enough to tell the story!”</p> +<p>“No––I––I reckon not,” said his listener in a small +voice, and when he looked around to speak to her again +she had disappeared, and across the patio Doña Luz +was coming towards him in no good humor.</p> +<p>“How is it that poor little one weeps now when you +are returned, and not at other times?” she demanded. +“Me, I have my troubles since that day they find the +Don Filipe shot dead,––<i>Jesusita</i> give him rest! That +child is watching the Sonora trail and waiting since that +day, but no tears until you are come. I ask you how is +the way of that?”</p> +<p>Captain Pike stared at her reflectively.</p> +<p>“You are a bringer of news, likewise a faithful warden,” +he observed. “I’m peaceably disposed, and not +wise to your lingo. Billie and me were talking as man +to man, free and confidential, and no argument. There +were no weeps that I noticed. What’s the reason why?”</p> +<p>“The saints alone know, and not me!” she returned +miserably. “I think she is scared that it was the Señor +Rhodes who shooting Don Filipe, the vaqueros thinking +that! But she tells no one, and she is unhappy. Also +there is reason. That poor little one has the ranchos, +but have you hear how the debts are so high all the +herds can never pay? That is how they are saying +now about Granados and La Partida, and at the last our +señorita will have no herds, and no ranchos, and no +people but me. <i>Madre de Dios!</i> I try to think of her +in a little adobe by the river with only <i>frijoles</i> in the +dinner pot, and I no see it that way. And I not seeing +it other way. How you think?”</p> +<p>“I don’t, it’s too new,” confessed Pike. “Who says +this?”</p> +<p>“The Señor Henderson. I hear him talk with Señor +Conrad, who has much sorrow because the Don Filipe +made bad contracts and losing the money little and +little, and then the counting comes, and it is big, very +big!”</p> +<p>“Ah! the Señor Conrad has much sorrow, has he?” +queried Pike, “and Billie is getting her face to the wall +and crying? That’s queer. Billie always unloaded her +troubles on me, and you say there was none of this +weeping till I came back?”</p> +<p>“That is so, señor.”</p> +<p>“Cause why?”</p> +<p>“<i>Quien sabe?</i> She was making a long letter to Señor +Rhodes in Sonora,––that I know. He sends no word, +so––I leave it to you, señor, it takes faith and more faith +when a man is silent, and the word of a killing is against +him.”</p> +<p>“Great Godfrey, woman! He never got a letter, he +knows nothing of a killing. How in hell––” Then the +captain checked himself as he saw the uselessness of +protesting to Doña Luz. “Where’s Billie?”</p> +<p>Billie was perched on a window seat in the <i>sala</i>, her +eyes were more than a trifle red, and she appeared deeply +engrossed in the pages of a week-old country paper.</p> +<p>“I see here that Don José Perez of Hermosillo is to +marry Doña Dolores Terain, the daughter of the general,” +she observed impersonally. “He owns Rancho +Soledad, and promises the Sonora people he will drive +the rebel Rotil into the sea, and it was but yesterday Tia +Luz was telling me of his beautiful wife, Jocasta, who +was only a little mountain girl when he rode through +her village and saw her first. She is still alive, and it +looks to me as if all men are alike!”</p> +<p>“More or less,” agreed Pike amicably, “some of us +more, some of us less. Doña Dolores probably spells +politics, but Doña Jocasta is a wildcat of the sierras, and +I can’t figure out any harmonious days for a man who +picks two like that.”</p> +<p>“He doesn’t deserve harmony; no man does who +isn’t true––isn’t true,” finished Billie rather lamely.</p> +<p>“Look here, honey child,” observed Pike, “you’ll turn +man hater if you keep on working your imagination. +Luz tells me you are cranky against Kit, and that the +ranches are tied up in business knots tighter than I had +any notion of, so you had better unload the worst you +can think of on me; that’s what I’m here for. What difference +do the Perez favorites make to our young lives? +Neither Dolores nor Jocasta will help play the cards in +our fortunes.”</p> +<p>Wherein Captain Pike was not of the prophets. The +wells of Sonora are not so many but that he who pitches +his tent near one has a view and greetings of all drifting +things of the desert, and the shadowed star of Doña +Jocasta of the south was leading her into the Soledad +wilderness forsaken of all white men but one.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XII_COVERING_THE_TRAIL' id='CHAPTER_XII_COVERING_THE_TRAIL'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2> +<h3>COVERING THE TRAIL</h3> +</div> +<p>Each minute of the long days, Rhodes worked steadily +and gaily, picking out the high grade ore from +the old Indian mine, and every possible night he and the +burro and Tula made a trip out to the foot of the range, +where they buried their treasure against the happy day +when they could go out of the silent desert content for +the time with what gold they could carry in secret to the +border.</p> +<p>For two days he had watched the Soledad ranch +house rather closely through the field glass, for there +was more activity there than before; men in groups rode +in who were not herding. He wondered if it meant a +military occupation, in which case he would need to be +doubly cautious when emerging from the hidden trail.</p> +<p>The girl worked as he worked. Twice he had made +new sandals for her, and also for himself in order to +save his boots so that they might at least be wearable +when he got among people. All plans had been thought +out and discussed until no words would be needed between +them when they separated. She was to appear alone at +Palomitas with a tale of escape from the slavers, and he +was carefully crushing and mashing enough color to +partly fill a buckskin bag to show as the usual fruits of a +prospect trip from which he was returning to Mesa +Blanca after exhausting grub stake and shoe leather.</p> +<p>The things of the world had stood still for him during +that hidden time of feverish work. He scarcely dared +try to estimate the value of the ore he had dug as honey +from a hollow tree, but it was rich––rich! There were +nuggets of pure gold, assorted as to their various sizes, +while he milled and ground the quartz roughly, and +cradled it in the water of the brook.</p> +<p>By the innocent aid of Baby Bunting, two wild burros +of the sierra had been enticed within reach for slaughter, +and, aside from the food values, they furnished green +hide which under Kit’s direction, Tula deftly made into +bags for carrying the gold.</p> +<p>All activities during the day were carefully confined +within a certain radius, low enough in the little cañon +to run no risk in case any inquisitive resident of Soledad +should study the ranges with a field glass, though Kit had +not seen one aside from his own since he entered Sonora. +And he used his own very carefully every morning and +evening on the wide valley of Soledad.</p> +<p>“Something doing down there, sister,” he decided, +as they were preparing for the last trail out. “Riders +who look like cavalry, mules, and some wagons––mighty +queer!”</p> +<p>Tula came over and stood beside him expectantly. He +had learned that a look through the magic glasses was +the most coveted gift the camp could grant to her, and +it had become part of the regular routine that she stood +waiting her turn for the wide look, the “enchant look,” +as she had called it that first morning. It had become +a game to try to see more than he, and this time she mentioned +as he had, the wagons, and mules, and riders. And +then she looked long and uttered a brief Indian word +of surprise.</p> +<p>“Beat me again, have you?” queried Kit good +humoredly. “What do you find?”</p> +<p>“A woman is there, in that wagon,––sick maybe. Also +one man is a padre; see you!”</p> +<p>Kit took the glasses and saw she was right. A man +who looked like a priest was helping a woman from a +wagon, she stumbled forward and then was half carried +by two men towards the house.</p> +<p>“Not an Indian woman?” asked Kit, and again her +unchildlike mind worked quickly.</p> +<p>“A padre does not bow his head to help Indian woman. +Caballeros do not lift them up.”</p> +<p>“Well I reckon Don José Perez is home on a visit, and +brought his family. A queer time! Other ranch folks are +getting their women north over the border for safety.”</p> +<p>“Don José not bring woman to Soledad––ever. He +take them away. His men take them away.”</p> +<p>It was the first reference she had made to the slavers +since they had entered the cañon, though she knew that +each pile of nuggets was part of the redemption money +for those exiles of whom she did not speak.</p> +<p>But she worked tirelessly until Kit would stop her, or +suggest some restful task to vary the steady grind of +carrying, pounding, or washing the quartz. He had +ordered her to make two belts, that each of them might +carry some of the gold hidden under their garments. +She had a nugget tied in a corner of her <i>manta</i>, and other +small ones fastened in her girdle, while in the belt next +her body she carried all he deemed safe to weight her +with, probably five pounds. At any hint of danger she +would hide the belt and walk free.</p> +<p>His own belt would carry ten pounds without undue +bulkiness. And over three hundred pounds of high grade +gold was already safely hidden near the great rock with +the symbols of sun and rain marking its weathered +surface.</p> +<p>“A fair hundred thousand, and the vein only +scratched!” he exulted. “I was sore over losing the +job on Billie’s ranch,––but gee! this looks as if I was +knocked out in the cold world to reach my good luck!”</p> +<p>In a blue dusk of evening they left the camp behind +and started over the trail, after Tula had carefully left +fragments of food on the tomb of Miguel, placed there for +the ghosts who are drawn to a comrade.</p> +<p>Kit asked no questions concerning any of her tribal +customs, since to do so would emphasize the fact that +they were peculiar and strange to him, and the Indian +mind, wistfully alert, would sense that strangeness and +lose its unconsciousness in the presence of an alien. So, +when she went, after meals, to offer dregs of the soup +kettle or bones of the burro, she often found a bunch +of desert blossoms wilting there in the heat, and these +tributes left by Kit went far to strengthen her confidence. +It was as if Miguel was a live partner in their +activities, never forgotten by either. So they left him on +guard, and turned their faces toward the outer world +of people.</p> +<p>Knowing more than he dare tell the girl his mind was +considerably occupied with that woman at Soledad, for +military control changed over night in many a province +of Mexico in revolutionary days, and the time at the +hidden mine might have served for many changes.</p> +<p>Starlight and good luck was on the trail for them, and +at earliest streak of dawn they buried their treasure, divided +their dried burro meat, and with every precaution +to hide the trail where they emerged from the gray sierra, +they struck the road to Mesa Blanca.</p> +<p>Until full day came Tula rode the burro, and slipped +off at a ravine where she could walk hidden, on the way +to Palomitas.</p> +<p>“Buntin’,” said Kit, watching her go, “we’ll have +pardners and pardners in our time, but we’ll never find +one more of a thoroughbred than that raggedy Indian +witch-child of ours.”</p> +<p>He took the slanting cattle trail up over the mesa, +avoiding the wagon road below, and at the far edge of +it halted to look down over the wide spreading leagues of +the Mesa Blanca ranch.</p> +<p>It looked very sleepy, drowsing in the silence of the +noon sun. An old Indian limped slowly from the corral +over to the ranch house, and a child tumbled in the dust +with a puppy, but there was no other sign of ranch +activity. As he descended the mesa and drew nearer +the corrals they had a deserted look, not merely empty +but deserted.</p> +<p>The puppy barked him a welcome, but the child gave +one frightened look at Kit, and with a howl of fear, raced +to the shelter of the portal where he disappeared in the +shadows.</p> +<p>“I had a hunch, Babe, that we needed smoothing down +with a currycomb before we made social calls,” confessed +Kit to the burro, “but I didn’t reckon on scaring the +natives in any such fashion as this.”</p> +<p>He was conscious of peering eyes at a barred window, +and then the old Indian appeared.</p> +<p>“Hello, Isidro!”</p> +<p>“At your service, señor,” mumbled the old man, and +then he stared at the burro, and at the bearded and rather +desert-worn stranger, and uttered a cry of glad recognition.</p> +<p>“Ai-ji! It is El Pajarito coming again to Mesa +Blanca, but coming with dust in your mouth and no song! +Enter, señor, and take your rest in your own house. None +are left to do you honor but me,––all gone like that!” +and his skinny black hands made a gesture as if wafting +the personnel of Mesa Blanca on its way. “The General +Rotil has need the cattle, and makes a divide with +Señor Whitely and all go,––all the herds,” and he pointed +east.</p> +<p>Kit bathed his face in the cool water brought out by +Valencia, Isidro’s wife, then unloaded the burro of the +outfit, and stretched himself in the shade while the women +busied themselves preparing food.</p> +<p>“So General Rotil makes a divide of the cattle,––of +Whitely’s cattle? How is that?” he asked.</p> +<p>And the old Indian proceeded to tell him that it was +true. The Deliverer must feed his army. He needed +half, and promised Whitely to furnish a guard for the +rest of the herd and help Whitely save them by driving +them to Imuris, where the railroad is.</p> +<p>“He said enemy troops would come from the south and +take them all in one week or one month. He, Rotil, +would pay a price. Thus it was, and Señor Whitely, and +enough vaqueros, rode with the herds, and General Rotil +took the rest of the ranchmen to be his soldiers. Of +course it might be Señor Whitely would some day return, +who knows? And he left a letter for the señor of the +songs.”</p> +<p>The letter corroborated Isidro’s statements––it was +the only way to save any of the stock. Whitely thought +there was a hundred or two still ranging in the far corners, +but time was short, and he was saving what he +could. The men were joining the revolutionists and he +would be left without help anyway. If Rhodes came +back he was to use the place as his own. If he could +round up any more horses or cattle on the range and +get them to safety Isidro would find some Indians to +help him, and Whitely would divide the profits with him.</p> +<p>“Fine!––divides first with the Deliverer, and next +with me! Can’t see where that hombre gets off when it +comes to staking his own family to a living. But it’s a +bargain, and this is my headquarters until I can get out. +How long has Whitely and his new friends been gone?”</p> +<p>“Four days, señor.”</p> +<p>“Seen any stragglers of cattle left behind?”</p> +<p>Isidro’s grandson, Clodomiro, had found both horses +and cattle and herded them into far cañons; a man might +ride in a circle for five miles around the ranch house +and see never a fresh track. Clodomiro was a good boy, +and of much craft.</p> +<p>Dinner was announced for the señor, and the women +showed him welcome by placing before him the most +beautiful repast they could arrange quickly, <i>chile con +carne</i>, <i>frijoles</i>, <i>tortillas</i>, and a decanter of Sonora wine––a +feast for a king!</p> +<p>After he had eaten, tobacco was brought him from +some little hidden store, and Isidro gave him the details of +the slave raid of Palomitas, and Sonora affairs in general. +Kit was careful to state that he has been prospecting in +the mountains and out of touch with ranch people, and +it must be understood that all Isidro could tell would be +news to a miner from the desert mountains. And he +asked if General Rotil also collected stock from the ranch +of Soledad.</p> +<p>Whereupon Isidro told him many things, and among +them the wonder that Soledad had been left alone––the +saints only knew why! And Juan Gonsalvo, the foreman +at Soledad, had helped with the slave raid, and was known +in Palomitas where they took girls and women and men +as well, even men not young! Miguel, the major-domo, +was taken with his wife and two daughters, the other +men were young. The curse of God seemed striking +Sonora. A new foreman was now at Soledad, Marto +Cavayso, a hard man and,––it was said, a soldier, but +he evidently got tired of fighting and was taking his +rest by managing the horse herds of Soledad.</p> +<p>“Doesn’t look like rest to me,” observed Kit. “The +Soledad trail looks pretty well kicked into holes, with +wagons, mules, and horsemen.”</p> +<p>Isidro volunteered his opinion that work of the devil +was going forward over there.</p> +<p>“Juan Gonsalvo and El Aleman were stealing women +in Sonora, and driving them the south trail for a price,” +he stated. “But what think you would be the price for +a woman of emerald eyes and white skin carried up from +the south under chains, and a lock to the chain?”</p> +<p>“I reckon you are dreaming the lock and chain part of +it, Isidro,” returned Kit. “Only murderers travel like +that.”</p> +<p>“<i>Si</i>, it is so. There at Soledad it is heard. A killing +was done in the south and Soledad is her prison. But +she is beautiful, and the men are casting lots as to whose +she shall be when the guard is gone south again to Don +José Perez.”</p> +<p>“Ah! they are Don José’s men, are they? Then the +prisoner is guarded by his orders?”</p> +<p>“Who knows? They tell that she is a lost soul, and +fought for a knife to kill herself, and the padre makes +prayers and says hell will be hers if she does. Elena, +who is cook, heard him say that word, and Elena was +once wife to my brother, and she is telling that to Clodomiro +who makes an errand to take her deer meat, and hear +of the strangers. He saw the woman, her bracelets are +gold, and her eyes are green. The padre calls her Doña +Jocasta. I go now and give drink to that burro and +make him happy.”</p> +<p>“Jocasta, eh? Doña Jocasta!” repeated Kit in wondering +meditation. “Doesn’t seem possible––but reckon +it is, and there are no real surprises in Sonora. Anything +could, and does happen here.”</p> +<p>He remembered Pike telling the story of Jocasta one +morning by their camp fire in the desert. She was called +by courtesy Señora Perez. He had not heard her father’s +name, but he was a Spanish priest and her mother an +Indian half-breed girl––some little village in the sierras. +There were two daughters, and the younger was blond as +a child of Old Spain, Jocasta was the elder and raven +dark of hair, a skin of deep cream, and jewel-green eyes. +Kit had heard three men, including Isidro, speak of Doña +Jocasta, and each had mentioned the wonderful green +eyes––no one ever seemed to forget them!</p> +<p>Their magnetism had caught the attention of Don José,––a +distinguished and illustrious person in the eyes of the +barefoot mountaineers. No one knew what Jocasta +thought of the exalted padrone of the wide lands, whose +very spurs were of gold, but she knew there was scarce +wealth enough in all the village to keep a candle burning +on the Virgin’s shrine, and her feet had never known a +shoe. The padre died suddenly just as Don José was +making a bargain with him for the girl, so he swept +Jocasta to his saddle with no bargain whatever except +that she might send back for Lucita, her little sister, and +other men envied Perez his good luck when they looked +at Jocasta. For three years she had been mistress of his +house in Hermosillo, but never had he taken her into +the wilderness of Soledad,––it was a crude casket for so +rich a treasure.</p> +<p>Kit steeped in the luxury of a square meal, fell asleep, +thinking of the green-eyed Doña Jocasta whom no man +forgot. He would not connect a brilliant bird of the +mountain with that drooping figure he and Tula had seen +stumbling towards the portal of Soledad. And the statement +of Isidro that there had been a killing, and Doña +Jocasta was a lost soul, was most puzzling of all. In a +queer confused dream the killing was done by Tula, and +Billie wore the belt of gold, and had green eyes. And +he wakened himself with the apparently hopeless effort +of convincing Billie he had never forgotten her despite +the feminine witcheries of Sonora.</p> +<p>The shadows were growing long, and some Indian boys +were jogging across the far flats. He reached for his +field glass and saw that one of them had a deer across +his saddle. Isidro explained that the boys were planting +corn in a far field, and often brought a deer when they +came in for more seed or provisions. They had a hut +and <i>ramada</i> at the edge of the planted land six miles +away. They were good boys, Benito and Mariano Bravo, +and seldom both left the fields at the same time. He +called to Valencia that there would be deer for supper, +then watched the two riders as they approached, and +smiled as they perceptibly slowed up their broncos at +sight of the bearded stranger on the rawhide cot against +the wall.</p> +<p>“See you!” he pointed out to Kit. “These are the +days of changes. Each day we looking for another +enemy, maybe that army of the south, and the boys they +think that way too.”</p> +<p>The boys, on being hailed, came to the house with their +offering, and bunkered down in the shadow with a certain +shy stolidity, until Kit spoke, when they at once +beamed recognition, and made jokes of his beard as a +blanket.</p> +<p>But they had news to tell, great news, for a child of +Miguel had broken away from the slavers and had hidden +in the mountains, and at last had found her way back to +Palomitas. She was very tired and very poor in raiment, +and the people were weeping over her. Miguel, her +father, was dead from a wound, and was under the +ground, and of the others who went on she could tell +nothing, only that Conrad, the German friend of Don +José, was the man who covered his face and helped take +the women. Her sister Anita had recognized him, calling +out his name, and he had struck her with a quirt.</p> +<p>The women left their work to listen to this, and to +add the memories of some of their friends who had +hidden and luckily escaped.</p> +<p>“That white man should be crucified and left for the +vultures,” said the boy Benito.</p> +<p>“No,” said the soft voice of Valencia, “God was sacrificed, +but this man is a white Judas; the death of God is +too good for that man. It has been talked about. He +will be found some place,––and the Judas death will be +his. The women are making prayers.”</p> +<p>“It will soon be Easter,” said Isidro.</p> +<p>Kit did not know what was meant by a “Judas” death, +though he did know many of the church legends had been +turned by the Indians into strange and lurid caricatures. +He thought it would be interesting to see how they could +enlarge on the drama of Judas, but he made no comment, +as a direct question would turn the Indians thoughtful, +and silence them.</p> +<p>They all appeared alert for the return of Rotil. No +one believed he had retired utterly from the region without +demanding tribute from Soledad. It was generally +suspected that Perez received and held munitions for use +against the revolutionists though no one knew where they +were hidden. There were Indian tales of underground +tunnels of Soledad Mission for retreat in the old days in +case of hostile attacks, and the Soledad ranch house was +built over part of that foundation. No one at Soledad +knew the entrance except Perez himself, though it was +surmised that Juan Gonsalvo had known, and had been +the one to store the mule loads and wagon loads of +freight shipped over the border before Miguel Herrara +was caught at the work from the American side. Perez +was a careful man, and not more than one man was +trusted at one time. That man seemed marked by the +angels for accident, for something had always ended him, +and it was no good fortune to be a favorite of Don José––Doña +Jocasta was learning that!</p> +<p>Thus the gossip and surmise went on around Rhodes +for his brief hour of rest and readjustment. He encouraged +the expression of opinion from every source, +for he had the job ahead of him to get three hundred +pounds of gold across the border and through a region +where every burro was liable to examination by some of +the warring factions. It behooved him to consider every +tendency of the genus homo with which he came in contact. +Also the bonds between them,––especially the +bonds, since the various groups were much of a sameness, +and only “good” or “bad” according to their affiliations. +Simple Benito and his brother, and soft-voiced motherly +Valencia who could conceive a worse death for the German +Judas than crucifixion, were typical of the primitive +people of desert and sierra.</p> +<p>“How many head of stock think you still ranges Mesa +Blanca?” he asked Isidro, who confessed that he no +longer rode abroad or kept tally, but Clodomiro would +know, and would be in to supper. Benito and Mariano +told of one stallion and a dozen mares beyond the hills, +and a spring near their fields had been muddied the day +before by a bunch of cows and calves, they thought perhaps +twenty, and they had seen three mules with the +Mesa Blanca brand when they were getting wood.</p> +<p>“Three mules, eh? Well, I may need those mules +and the favor will be to me if you keep them in sight,” he +said addressing the boys. “I am to round up what I can +and remove them after Señor Whitely, together with +other belongings.”</p> +<p>“Others, señor?” asked Isidro.</p> +<p>Rhodes took the letter from his pocket, and perused +it as if to refresh his memory.</p> +<p>“The old Spanish chest is to go if possible, and other +things of Mrs. Whitely’s,” he said. “I will speak of these +to your wife if the plan can carry, but there is chance +of troops from the south and––who knows?––we may be +caught between the two armies and ground as meal on a +<i>metate</i>.”</p> +<p>He thus avoided all detail as to the loads the pack +animals were to carry, and the written word was a safe +mystery to the Indian. He was making no definite plans, +but was learning all possibilities with a mind prepared +to take advantage of the most promising.</p> +<p>Thus the late afternoon wore on in apparent restful +idleness after the hard trail. The boys secured their little +allowance of beans and salt, and corn for planting, but +lingered after the good supper of Valencia, a holiday +feast compared with their own sketchy culinary performance +in the <i>jacal</i> of the far fields. They scanned the +trail towards Palomitas, and then the way down the far +western valley, evidently loath to leave until their friend +Clodomiro should arrive, and Isidro expected him before +sunset.</p> +<p>But he came later from towards Soledad, a tall lad with +fluttering ribbands of pink and green from his banda and +his elbows, and a girdle of yellow fluttering fringed ends +to the breeze,––all the frank insignia of a youth in the +market for marriage. He suggested a gay graceful bird +as he rode rapidly in the long lope of the range. His +boy friends of the planted fields went out to meet him +at the corral, and look after his horse while he went in +to supper. He halted to greet them, and then walked +soberly across the plaza where pepper trees and great +white alisos trailed dusk shadows in the early starlight.</p> +<p>“What <i>reata</i> held you?” asked Isidro. “Has Soledad +grown a place for comradeship?”</p> +<p>“No, señor,” said the lad passing into the dining room +where two candles gave him light in the old adobe room, +“it is comradeship we do not need, but it is coming to +us.”</p> +<p>He seated himself on the wooden bench and his grandmother +helped him from a smoking plate of venison. He +looked tired and troubled, and he had not even taken note +that a stranger was beside Isidro in the shadows.</p> +<p>“What nettle stings you, boy?” asked his grandfather +sarcastically, and at that he looked up and rose to his +feet at sight of Rhodes.</p> +<p>“Your pardon, señor, I stumbled past like a bat blind +in the light,” he muttered, and as he met Kit’s eyes and +recognized him his face lit up and his white teeth gleamed +in a smile.</p> +<p>“The saints are in it that you are here again, señor!” +he exclaimed, “and you came on this day when most +needed.”</p> +<p>“Eat and then tell your meaning,” said Isidro, but +Clodomiro glanced toward the kitchen, and then listened +for the other boys. They were laughing down at the +corral. Clodomiro’s horse had thrown one of them.</p> +<p>“With your permission, grandfather, talk first,” he +said and the two men moved to the bench opposite, leaning +over towards him as his voice was lowered.</p> +<p>“Today Marto Cavayso sent for me, he is foreman +over there, and strange things are going forward. He +has heard that General Rotil stripped Mesa Blanca and +that all white people are gone from it. He wants this +house and will pay us well to open the door. It is for the +woman. They have played a game for her, and he has +won, but she is a wild woman when he goes near her, +and his plan is to steal her out at night and hide her from +the others. So he wants this house. He offered me a +good gun. He offers us the protection of Don José +Perez.”</p> +<p>“But––why––that is not credible,” protested Kit. +“He could not count on protection from Perez if he stole +the woman whom many call Señora Perez, for that is +what they did call Doña Jocasta in Hermosillo.”</p> +<p>“Maybe so,” assented Clodomiro stolidly, “but now he +is to be the <i>esposo</i> of a Doña Dolores who is the child +of General Terain, so Marto says. Well, this Doña +Jocasta has done some killing, and Don José does not give +her to prison. He sends her to the desert that she brings +him no disgrace; and if another man takes her or sinks +her in the quicksands then that man will be helping Don +José. That is how it is. Marto says the woman has bewitched +him, and he is crazy about her. Some of the +other men, will take her, if not him.”</p> +<p>Kit exchanged a long look with the old Indian.</p> +<p>“The house is yours, señor,” said Isidro. “By the +word of Señor Whitely, you are manager of Mesa +Blanca.”</p> +<p>“Many thanks,” replied Kit, and sat with his elbows +on the table and his hands over his eyes, thinking––thinking +of the task he had set himself in Sonora, and +the new turn of the wheel of fortune.</p> +<p>“You say the lady is a prisoner?” he asked.</p> +<p>“Sure,” returned Clodomiro promptly. “She broke +loose coming through a little pueblo and ran to the church. +She found the priest and told him things, so they also +take that priest! If they let him go he will talk, and Don +José wanting no talk now of this woman. That priest is +well cared for, but not let go away. After awhile, maybe +so.”</p> +<p>“She is bright, and her father was a priest,” mused Kit. +“So there is three chances out of four that she can read +and write,––a little anyway. Could you get a letter to +her?”</p> +<p>“Elena could.”</p> +<p>Kit got up, took one of the candles from the table and +walked through the rooms surrounding the patio. Some +of them had wooden bars in the windows, but others had +iron grating, and he examined these carefully.</p> +<p>“There are two rooms fit for perfectly good jails,” he +decided, “so I vote we give this bewitched Don Marto +the open door. How many guns can we muster?”</p> +<p>“He promised to give me one, and ammunition.”</p> +<p>“Well, you get it! Get two if you can, but at least +get plenty of ammunition. Isidro, will your wife be brave +and willing to help?”</p> +<p>The old Indian nodded his head vigorously and smiled. +Evidently only a stranger would ask if his Valencia +could be brave!</p> +<p>The two brothers came in, and conversation was more +guarded until Clodomiro had finished his supper, and gone +a little ways home with them to repay them the long wait +for comradeship.</p> +<p>When he came back Kit had his plans fairly settled, and +had a brief note written to Señora Jocasta Perez, as +follows:</p> +<blockquote> +<p><span class='smcap'>Honored Señora</span>:</p> +<p>One chance of safety is yours. Let yourself be persuaded +to leave Soledad with Marto. You will be rescued from him +by</p> +<p class='ralign'><span class='smcap'>An American.</span></p> +</blockquote> +<p>“I reckon that will do the trick,” decided Kit. “I feel +like a blooming Robin Hood without the merry men,––but +the Indians will play safe, even if they are not merry. +When can you get this to Elena?”</p> +<p>“In time of breakfast,” said Clodomiro promptly. “I +go tonight, and tomorrow night he steals that woman. +Maybe Elena helps.”</p> +<p>“You take Elena a present from me to encourage that +help,” suggested Kit, and he poured a little of the gold +from his belt on the paper. “Also there is the same for +you when the lady comes safe. It is best that you make +willing offer of your service in all ways so that he calls +on none of his own men for help.”</p> +<p>“As you say, señor,” assented Clodomiro, “and that +will march well with his desires, for to keep the others +from knowing is the principal thing. She has beauty +like a lily in the shade.”</p> +<p>“He tells you that?” asked Kit quizzically, but the +boy shook his head.</p> +<p>“My own eyes looked on her. She is truly of the +beauty of the holy pictures of the saints in the chapel, +but Marto says she is a witch, and has him enchanted;––also +that evil is very strong in her. I do not know.”</p> +<p>“Well, cross your fingers and tackle the job,” suggested +Kit. “Get what sleep you can, for you may not +get much tomorrow night. It is the work of a brave man +you are going to do, and your pay will be a man’s pay.”</p> +<p>The eyes of the Indian boy glowed with pleasure.</p> +<p>“At your service, señor. I will do this thing or I will +not see Mesa Blanca again.”</p> +<p>Kit looked after Clodomiro and rolled another cigarette +before turning in to sleep.</p> +<p>“When all’s said and done, I may be the chief goat of +this dame adventure,” he told himself in derision. “Maybe +my own fingers need crossing.”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XIII_A_WOMAN_OF_EMERALD_EYES' id='CHAPTER_XIII_A_WOMAN_OF_EMERALD_EYES'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2> +<h3>A WOMAN OF EMERALD EYES</h3> +</div> +<p>At the first break of dawn, Rhodes was up, and +without waiting for breakfast walked over to the +rancherias of Palomitas to see Tula.</p> +<p>She was with some little girls and old women carrying +water from the well as stolidly as though adventure had +never stalked across her path. A whole garment had been +given her instead of the tatter of rags in which she had +returned to the little Indian pueblo. She replied briefly +to his queries regarding her welfare, and when he asked +where she was living, she accompanied him to an old +adobe where there were two other motherless children––victims +of the raiders.</p> +<p>An old, half-blind woman stirred meal into a kettle of +porridge, and to her Kit addressed himself.</p> +<p>“A blessing will be on your house, but you have too +many to feed here,” he said “and the child of Miguel +should go to the ranch house of Mesa Blanca. The wife +of Isidro is a good woman and will give her care.”</p> +<p>“Yes, señor, she is a good woman,” agreed the old +Indian. “Also it may be a safe house for a maiden, +who knows? Here it is not safe; other raiders may +come.”</p> +<p>“That is true. Send her after she has eaten.”</p> +<p>He then sought out one of the older men to learn who +could be counted on to round up the stray cattle of the +ranges. After that he went at once back to the ranch +house, and did not even speak to Tula again. There +was nothing to indicate that she was the principal object +of his visit, or that she had acquired a guardian who was +taking his job seriously.</p> +<p>Later in the day she was brought to Mesa Blanca by +an elderly Indian woman of her mother’s clan, and settled +in the quiet Indian manner in the new dwelling place. +Valencia was full of pity for the girl of few years who +had yet known the hard trail, and had mourned alone for +her dead.</p> +<p>There was a sort of suppressed bustle about <i>la casa de +Mesa Blanca</i> that day, dainties of cookery prepared with +difficulty from the diminished stores, and the rooms of +the iron bars sprinkled and swept, and pillows of wondrous +drawnwork decorated the more pretentious bed. +To Tula it was more of magnificence than she had ever +seen in her brief life, and the many rooms in one dwelling +was a wonder. She would stand staring across the patio +and into the various doorways through which she hesitated +to pass. She for whom the wide silences of the +desert held few terrors, hesitated to linger alone in the +shadows of the circling walls. Kit noted that when each +little task was finished for Valencia, she would go outside +in the sunlight where she had the familiar ranges +and far blue mountains in sight.</p> +<p>“Here it makes much trouble only to live in a house,” +she said pointing to the needlework on a table cover. +“The bowls of food will make that dirty in one eating, +and then what? Women in fine houses are only as mares +in time of thrashing the grain––no end and no beginning +to the work,––they only tread their circle.”</p> +<p>“Right you are, sister,” agreed Kit, “they do make +a lot of whirligig work for themselves, all the same as +your grandmothers painting pottery that smash like eggshells. +But life here isn’t all play at that, and there may +be something doing before sleep time tonight. I went +after you so I would have a comrade I knew would stick.”</p> +<p>She only gazed at him without question.</p> +<p>“You remember, Tula, the woman led by the padre at +Soledad?”</p> +<p>She nodded silently.</p> +<p>“It may be that woman is captive to the same men who +took your people,” he said slowly watching her, “and it +may be we can save her.”</p> +<p>“May it also be that we can catch the man?” she +asked, and her eyes half closed, peered up at him in +curious intensity. “Can that be, O friend?”</p> +<p>“Some day it must surely be, Tula.”</p> +<p>“One day it must be,––one day, and prayers are making +all the times for that day,” she insisted stolidly. “The +old women are talking, and for that day they want him.”</p> +<p>“What day, Tula?”</p> +<p>“The Judas day.”</p> +<p>Kit Rhodes felt a curious creepy sensation of being +near an unseen danger, some sleeping serpent basking in +the sun, harmless until aroused for attack. He thought +of the gentle domestic Valencia, and now this child, both +centered on one thought––to sacrifice a traitor on the +day of Judas!</p> +<p>“Little girls should make helpful prayers,” he ventured +rather lamely, “not vengeance prayers.”</p> +<p>“I was the one to make cry of a woman, when my +father went under the earth,” she said. It was her only +expression of the fact that she had borne a woman’s +share of all their joint toil in the desert,––and he caught +her by the shoulder, as she turned away.</p> +<p>“Why, Kid Cleopatra, it isn’t a woman’s work you’ve +done at all. It’s a man’s job you’ve held down and held +level,” he declared heartily. “That’s why I am counting +on you now. I need eyes to watch when I have to be in +other places.”</p> +<p>“I watch,” she agreed, “I watch for you, but maybe +I make my own prayers also;––all the time prayers.”</p> +<p>“Make one for a straight trail to the border, and all +sentries asleep!” he suggested. “We have a pile of yellow +rock to get across, to say nothing of our latest puzzling +prospect.”</p> +<p>As the day wore on the latest “prospect” presented +many complications to the imagination, and he tramped +the corridors of Mesa Blanca wondering why he had seen +but one side of the question the night before, for in the +broad light of day there seemed a dozen, and all leading +to trouble! That emerald-eyed daughter of a renegade +priest had proven a host in herself when it came to breeding +trouble. She certainly had been unlucky.</p> +<p>“Well, it might be worse,” he confided to Bunting out +in the corral. “Cap Pike might have tagged along to discourse +on the general tomfoolery of a partner who picks +up a damsel in distress at every fork of the trail. Not +that he’d be far wrong at that, Baby. If any hombre +wanted to catch me in a bear trap he’d only need to bait +it with a skirt.”</p> +<p>Baby Bunting nodded sagaciously, and nuzzled after +Kit who was cleaning up the best looking saddle horse +brought in from the Indian herd. It was a scraggy sorrel +with twitchy ears and wicked eyes, but it looked tough +as a mountain buck. Kit knew he should need two like +that for the northern trail, and had hopes that the bewitched +Marto Cavayso, whoever he was, would furnish +another.</p> +<p>He went steadily about his preparations for the border +trail, just as if the addition of an enchantress with green-jewel +eyes was an every day bit of good fortune expected +in every outfit, but as the desert ranges flamed rose and +mauve in the lowering sun there was a restless expectancy +at the ranch house, bolts and locks and firearms were +given final inspection. Even at the best it was a scantily +manned fort for defense in case Mario’s companions at +dice should question his winning and endeavor to capture +the stake.</p> +<p>“I shall go part way on the Soledad trail and wait +what happens,” he told Isidro. “I will remain at a distance +unless Clodomiro needs me. There is no telling +what tricks this Cavayso may have up his sleeve.”</p> +<p>“I was thinking that same thought,” said the old +Indian. “The men of Perez are not trusted long, even +by Perez. When it is a woman, they are not trusted even +in sight! Go with God on the trail.”</p> +<p>The ugly young sorrel ran tirelessly the first half of the +way, just enough to prove his wind. Then they entered +a cañon where scrub cottonwoods and greasebush gathered +moisture enough for scant growth among the +boulders worn out of the cliffs by erosion. It was the +safest place to wait, as it was also the most likely place +for treachery if any was intended to Clodomiro. At +either end of the pass lay open range and brown desert, +with only far patches of oasis where a well was found, or +a sunken river marked a green pasture in some valley.</p> +<p>When he wrote the note he had not thought of danger +to Clodomiro, regarding him only as a fearless messenger, +but if the boy should prove an incumbrance to Cavayso +after they were free of Soledad, that might prove another +matter, and as old Isidro had stated, no one trusted a +Perez man when a woman was in question!</p> +<p>He dismounted to listen and seek safe shadow, for the +dusk had come, and desert stars swung like brilliant lamps +in the night sky, and the white rocks served as clear background +for any moving body.</p> +<p>The plan was, if possible, to get the woman out with +Clodomiro while the men were at supper. The <i>manta</i> of +Elena could cover her, and if she could walk with a water +jar to the far well as any Indian woman would walk, and +a horse hid in the willows there–––!</p> +<p>It had been well thought out, and if nothing had interfered +they should have reached the cañon an hour earlier. +If Clodomiro had failed it might be a serious matter, and +Kit Rhodes had some anxious moments for the stolen +woman while dusk descended on the cañon.</p> +<p>He listened for the beat of horse hoofs, but what he +heard first was a shot, and a woman’s scream, and then +the walls of the cañon echoed the tumult of horses racing +towards him in flight.</p> +<p>He recognized Clodomiro by the bare head and banda, +and a woman bent low beside him, her <i>manta</i> flapping +like the wings of a great bird as her horse leaped forward +beside the Indian boy.</p> +<p>Back of them galloped a man who slowed up and shot +backward at the foremost of a pursuing band.</p> +<p>He missed, and the fire was returned, evidently with +some effect, for the first marksman grunted and cursed, +and Kit heard the clatter of his gun as it fell from his +hand. He leaned forward and spurred his horse to outrun +the pursuers. He was evidently Marto.</p> +<p>Kit had a mental vision of fighting Marto alone for the +woman at Mesa Blanca, or fighting with the entire band +and decided to halt the leader of the pursuers and gain +that much time at least for the woman and Clodomiro.</p> +<p>He had mounted at the first sound of the runaways, +and crouching low in the saddle, hid back of the thick +green of a dwarfed mesquite, and as the leader came into +range against the white rock well he aimed low and +touched the trigger.</p> +<p>The horse leaped up and the rider slid off as the animal +sunk to the ground. Kit guided his mount carefully along +shadowed places into the road expecting each instant a +shot from the man on the ground.</p> +<p>But it did not come, and he gained the trail before the +other pursuers rounded the bend of the cañon. The +sound of their hoofs would deafen them to his, and once +on the trail he gave the sorrel the rein, and the wild thing +went down the gully like an arrow from a bow.</p> +<p>He was more than a little puzzled at the silence back +of him. The going down of the one man and horse had +evidently checked all pursuit. Relieved though he was at +the fact, he realized it was not a natural condition of +affairs, and called for explanation.</p> +<p>The other three riders were a half mile ahead and he +had no idea of joining them on the trail. It occurred to +him there was a possible chance of taking a short cut over +the point of the mesa and beating them to the home ranch. +There was an even chance that the rougher trail would +offer difficulties in the dark, but that was up to the sorrel +and was worth the trial.</p> +<p>The bronco took the mesa walls like a cat, climbed and +staggered up, slid and tumbled down and crossed the +level intervening space to the corral as the first sound of +the others came beating across the sands.</p> +<p>A dark little figure arose by the corral bars and reached +for the horse as he slipped from the saddle.</p> +<p>“Quickly, Tulita!” he said, stripping saddle and bridle +from its back, “one instant only to make ourselves as still +as shadows under the walls of the house.”</p> +<p>Fast as he ran, she kept pace with him to the corridor +where Isidro waited.</p> +<p>“All is well,” he said briefly to the old man. “Clodomiro +comes safe with the señora, and the man who would +steal her was shot and lost his gun. All has gone very +well.”</p> +<p>“Thanks to God!” said the old Indian. “The stealing +of women has ever been a danger near, but luck +comes well to you, señor, and it is good to be under +the protection of you.”</p> +<p>“Open the door and show a light of welcome,” said +Kit. “Call your wife and let all be as planned by us. +I will be in the shadows, and a good gun for safety of +the woman if needed, but all will work well, as you will +see.”</p> +<p>The three riders came up to the portal before dismounting, +and Valencia went forward, while Isidro held +high a blazing torch, and Clodomiro dismounted quickly, +and offered help to the woman.</p> +<p>“My grandmother has all for your comfort, señora,” +he said, “will it please you to descend?”</p> +<p>The man swung from the saddle, awkwardly nursing +his right arm.</p> +<p>“Yes this is a safe place, Doña Jocasta,” he declared. +“It is all well arranged. With your permission I may +assist you.”</p> +<p>He offered his left hand, but she looked from him to +Valencia, and then to Clodomiro.</p> +<p>“You are young to be a stealer of women;––the saints +send you a whiter road!” she said. “And you may help +me, for my shoulder has a hurt from that first shot of +the comrade of this man.”</p> +<p>“No, señora,” stated her captor, “the evil shot came +from no comrade of mine. They did not follow us, those +bandits––accursed be their names! They were hid in +the cañoncita and jumped our trail. But have no fear, +Doña Jocasta, they are left behind, and it will be my +pleasure to nurse the wounds they have made.”</p> +<p>“Be occupied with your own,” she suggested pointing +to his hand from which blood still dripped, “and you, +mother, can show me the new prison. It can be no worse +than the others.”</p> +<p>“Better, much better, little dove,” said Marto, who +followed after the two women, and glanced over their +shoulders into the guest chamber of the iron bars, “it is a +bird cage of the finest, and a nest for harmonies.”</p> +<p>Then to Valencia he turned with authority, “When +you have made the señorita comfortable, bring the key of +the door to me.”</p> +<p>“<i>Si</i>, señor,” said Valencia bending low, and even as +the prisoner entered the room, she changed the key to the +outside of the door. Marto nodded his approval and +turned away.</p> +<p>“Now this shirt off, and a basin of water and a +bandage,” he ordered Isidro. “It is not much, and it still +bleeds.”</p> +<p>“True, it does, señor, and the room ordered for you +has already the water and a clean shirt on the pillow. +Clodomiro, go you for a bandage, and fetch wine to +take dust out of the throat! This way, señor,––and may +you be at home in your own house!”</p> +<p>Unsuspecting, the amorous Marto followed the old man +into the room prepared. He grunted contemptuous satisfaction +at evidences of comfort extending to lace curtains +hanging white and full over the one window.</p> +<p>“It is the time for a shirt of such cleanness,” he observed, +with a grin. “<i>Jesusita!</i> but the sleeve sticks to me! +Cut it off, and be quick to make me over into a bridegroom.”</p> +<p>The old man did as he was bidden, and when Clodomiro +brought in a woven tray covered with a napkin from +which a bottle of wine was discernible, Marto grinned +at him.</p> +<p>“It is a soft nest you found for me, boy,” he said +appreciatively, “and when I am capitan I will make you +lieutenant.”</p> +<p>“Thanks to you, señor, and hasten the day!”</p> +<p>Clodomiro assisted his grandfather, and stood aside at +the door respectfully as the old man passed out with his +primitive supply of salves and antiseptics, and only when +all need of caution was ended the boy smiled at the +would-be Lothario, and the smile held a subtle mockery +as he murmured, “The saints send you a good night’s +sleep, señor, and a waking to health––and clearer sight!”</p> +<p>“Hell and its blazes to you! why do you grin?” demanded +the other setting down the bottle from which he +had taken a long and grateful drink, but quick as a cat +the boy pulled the door shut, and slipped the bolt on the +outside, and laughed aloud.</p> +<p>“Not this night will you be bridegroom for another +man’s wife, señor!” he called. “Also it is better that +you put curb on your curses,––for the lady has a mind +for a quiet night of sleep.”</p> +<p>Marto rushed to the curtained window only to find iron +bars and the glint of a gun barrel. Isidro held the gun, +and admonished the storming captive with the gentle +fatalism of the Indian.</p> +<p>“It is done under orders of the major-domo, señor. +There is no other way. If your words are hard or rough +to the ears of the lady, there is a bullet for you, and a +hidden place for your grave. This is the only word to +you, señor. It is given me to say.”</p> +<p>“But––Gods, saints, and devils––hearken you to +me!” stormed the man. “This is a fool’s joke! It can’t +go on! I must be back at sunrise––<i>I must!</i>”</p> +<p>“You will see many suns rise through these bars if +the padrone so pleases,” murmured Isidro gently. “That +is not for us to decide.”</p> +<p>“To hottest hell with your padrone and you! Bring +him here to listen to me. This is no affair of a man and +a woman,––curse her witch eyes and their green fires! +There is work afoot,––big work, and I must get back to +Soledad. You know what goes over the trail to Soledad,––every +Indian knows! It is the cache of ammunition +with which to save the peon and Indian slave,––you +know that! You know the revolutionists must get it to +win in Sonora. A trap is set for tomorrow, a big trap! I +must be there to help spring it. To you there will be +riches and safety all your life for my freedom––on the +cross I will swear that. I–––”</p> +<p>“Señor, nothing is in my power, and of your traps I +know nothing. I am told you set a trap for a lady who +is in grief and your own feet were caught in it. That is +all I know of traps,” said Isidro.</p> +<p>Kit patted the old man on the shoulder for cleverness, +even while he wondered at the ravings of the would-be +abductor. Then he crept nearer the window where he +could see the face of the prisoner clearly, and without +the overshadowing hat he had worn on entrance. The +face gave him something to think about, for it was that +of one of the men who had ridden up to the Yaqui spring +the day he had found Tula and Miguel in the desert. +How should this rebel who rode on secret trails with +Ramon Rotil be head man at Soledad for Rotil’s enemy? +And what was the trap?</p> +<p>“Look well at that man, Isidro,” he whispered, “and +tell me if such a man rode here to Mesa Blanca with +General Rotil.”</p> +<p>“No such man was here, señor, but this man was foreman +at Soledad before the Deliverer came over the eastern +range to Mesa Blanca. Also the general and Don José +Perez are known as enemies;––the friend of one cannot +be the friend of another.”</p> +<p>“True enough, Isidro, but that does not help me to +understand the trap set. Call your wife and learn if I can +see the Doña Jocasta.”</p> +<p>Tula had crept up beside them, and touched him on the +arm.</p> +<p>“She asks for you, and sadness is with her very much. +She watches us in fear, and cannot believe that the door +is open for her.”</p> +<p>“If that is her only trouble we can clear it away for +her, <i>pronto</i>,” he stated, and they entered the patio.</p> +<p>“It is not her only trouble, but of the other she does +not speak. Valencia weeps to look at her.”</p> +<p>“Heavens! Is she as bad looking as that?”</p> +<p>“No, it is another reason,” stated the girl stolidly. +“She is a caged humming bird, and her wings have +broken.”</p> +<p>Kit Rhodes never forgot that first picture of their kidnaped +guest, for he agreed with Clodomiro who saw in +her the living representation of old biblical saints.</p> +<p>The likeness was strengthened by the half Moorish +drapery over her head, a black mantilla which, at sound +of a man’s step, she hurriedly drew across the lower part +of her face. Her left arm and shoulder was bare, and +Valencia bent over her with a strip of old linen for +bandage, but the eyes of Doña Jocasta were turned half +shrinking, half appraising to the strange Americano. It +was plain to her that conquering men were merely the +owners of women.</p> +<p>“It is good you come, señor,” said Valencia. “Here +is a wound and the bullet under the skin. I have waited +for Isidro to help but he is slow on the way.”</p> +<p>“He is busy otherwise, but I will call him unless my +own help will serve here. That is for the señora to say.”</p> +<p>The eyes of the girl,––she was not more,––never left +his face, and above the lace scarf she peered at him as +through a mask.</p> +<p>“It is you who sent messenger to save an unhappy one +you did not know? You are the Americano of the +letter?”</p> +<p>“At your service, señora. May that service begin +now?”</p> +<p>“It began when that letter was written, and this room +made ready,” she said. “And if you can find the bullet +it will end the unhappiness of this good woman. She +weeps for the little bit of lead. It should have struck a +heart instead of a shoulder.”</p> +<p>“Ah, señora!” lamented Valencia, “weep like a +woman over sorrows. It is a better way than to mock.”</p> +<p>“God knows it is not for me to mock!” breathed the +soft voice bitterly. “And if the señor will lend you his +aid, I will again be in his debt.”</p> +<p>Without further words Kit approached, and Valencia +drew the cover from the shoulder and indicated where +the ball could be felt.</p> +<p>“I cannot hold the shoulder and press the flesh there +without making much pain, too much,” stated Valencia, +“but it must come out, or there will be trouble.”</p> +<p>“Sure there will,” asserted Kit, “and if you or Tula +will hold the arm, and Doña Jocasta will pardon me–––”</p> +<p>He took the white shoulder in his two hands and gently +traced the direction of the bullet. It had struck in the +back and slanted along the shoulder blade. It was evidently +fired from a distance and little force left. Marto +had been much nearer the pursuer, and his was a clean +cut wound through the upper arm.</p> +<p>The girl turned chalky white as he began slowly to +press the bullet backward along its trail, but she uttered +no sound, only a deep intake of breath that was half a +sob, and the cold moisture of sickening pain stood in +beads on her face.</p> +<p>All of the little barriers with a stranger were forgotten, +and the shielding scarf fell away from her face and +bosom, and even with the shadowed emerald eyes closed, +Kit Rhodes thought her the most perfect thing in beauty +he had ever seen.</p> +<p>He hated himself for the pain he was forcing on her +as he steadily followed the bullet upward and upward +until it lay in his hand.</p> +<p>She did not faint, as he feared she might, but fell +back in the chair, while Valencia busied herself with the +ointment and bandage, and Tula, at a word from Kit, +poured her a cup of wine.</p> +<p>“Drink,” he said, “if only a little, señora. Your +strength has served you well, but it needs help now.”</p> +<p>She swallowed a little of the wine, and drew the scarf +about her, and after a little opened her eyes and looked +at him. He smiled at her approvingly, and offered her +the bullet.</p> +<p>“It may be you will want it to go on some shrine to a +patron saint, señora,” he suggested, but she did not take +it, only looked at him steadily with those wonderful eyes, +green with black lashes, shining out of her marble Madonna-like +face.</p> +<p>“My patron saint traveled the trail with you, Señor +Americano, and the bullet is witness. Let me see it.”</p> +<p>He gave it into her open hand where she balanced it +thoughtfully.</p> +<p>“So near the mark, yet went aside,” she murmured. +“Could that mean there is yet any use left in the world +for me?”</p> +<p>“Beauty has its own use in the world, señora; that is +why rose gardens are planted.”</p> +<p>“True, señor, though I belong no more to the gardens;––no, +not to gardens, but to the desert. Neither have I +place nor power today, and I may never have, but I give +back to you this witness of your great favor. If a day +comes when I, Jocasta, can give favor in return, bring +or send this witness of the ride tonight. I will redeem it.”</p> +<p>“The favor is to me, and calls for no redemption,” +said Kit awkward at the regal poise of her, and enchanted +by the languorous glance and movement of her. Even +the reaching out of her hand made him think of Tula’s +words, ‘a humming bird,’ if one could imagine such a +jewel-winged thing weighted down with black folds of +mourning.</p> +<p>“A caged humming bird with broken wings!” and that +memory brought another thought, and he fumbled the +bullet, and gave the first steady look into those emerald, +side-glancing eyes.</p> +<p>“But––there is a compact I should appreciate if Doña +Jocasta will do me the favor,––and it is that she sets +value on the life that is now her very own, and, that she +forgets not to cherish it.”</p> +<p>“Ah-h!” She looked up at him piteously a moment, +and then the long lashes hid her eyes, and her head was +bent low. “Sinful and without shame have I been! and +they have told you of the knife I tried to use––here!”</p> +<p>She touched her breast with her slender ring-laden +hand, and her voice turned mocking.</p> +<p>“But you see, Señor Americano, even Death will not +welcome me, and neither steel nor lead will serve me!”</p> +<p>“Life will serve you better, señora.”</p> +<p>“Not yet has it done so, and I am a woman––old––old! +I am twenty, señor, and refused of Death! Jocasta +Benicia they named me. Jocasta Perdida it should have +been to fit the soul of me, so why should I promise a man +whom I do not know that I will cherish my life when I +would not promise a padre? Answer me that, señor +whose name has not been told me!”</p> +<p>“But you will promise, señora,” insisted Kit, smiling +a little, though thrilled by the sadness of life’s end at +twenty, “and as for names, if you are Doña Perdida I +may surely name myself Don Esperenzo, for I have not +only hope, but conviction, that life is worth living!”</p> +<p>“To a man, yes, and Mexico is a man’s land.”</p> +<p>“Ay, it must be yours as well,––beautiful that thou +art!” murmured Valencia adoringly. “You should not +give yourself a name of sadness, for this is our Señor El +Pajarito, who is both gay and of honesty. He,––with +God,––is your protection, and harm shall not be yours.”</p> +<p>Doña Jocasta reached out and touched kindly the bent +head of the Indian woman.</p> +<p>“As you will, mother. With hope and a singer for a +shield, even a prison would not be so bad, El Pajarito, eh? +Do you make songs––or sing them, señor?”</p> +<p>“Neither,––I am only a lucky bluff. My old partner +and I used to sing fool things to the mules, and as we +could out-bray the burros my Indio friends are kind and +call it a singing;––as easy as that is it to get credit for +talent in this beneficent land of yours! But––the compact, +señora?”</p> +<p>Her brows lifted wearily, yet the hint of a smile was +in her eyes.</p> +<p>“Yes, since you ask so small a thing, it is yours. +Jocasta makes compact with you; give me a wish that the +life is worth it.”</p> +<p>“Sure I will,” said Kit holding out his hand, but she +shrunk perceptibly, and her hand crept out of sight in the +black draperies.</p> +<p>“You have not, perhaps, ever sent a soul to God without +absolution?” she asked in a breathless hushed sort of +voice. “No señor, the look of you tells me you have not +been so unpardonable. Is it not so?”</p> +<p>“Why, yes,” returned Kit, “it hasn’t been a habit +with me to start anyone on the angels’ flight without giving +him time to bless himself, but even at that–––”</p> +<p>“No, no!” as he took a step nearer. “The compact +is ours without handclasp. The hand of Jocasta is the +hand of the black glove, señor.”</p> +<p>He looked from her to the two Indians, the old woman +kneeling beside Jocasta and crossing herself, and Tula, +erect and slender against the adobe wall, watching him +stolidly. There was no light on the subject from either +of them.</p> +<p>“Pardon, I’m but a clumsy Americano, not wise to +your meanings,” he ventured, “and beautiful hands look +better without gloves of any color.”</p> +<p>“It may be so, yet I have heard that no matter how +handsome a headsman may be, he wears a black mask, +and hands are not stretched out to touch his.”</p> +<p>“Señora!”</p> +<p>“Señor, we arrive at nothing when making speech of +me,” she said with a little sigh. “Our ride was hard, and +rest is best for all of us. Our friend here tells me there +is supper, and if you will eat with me, we will know +more of how all this has come about. It is strange that +you, a lone Americano in this land, should plan this adventure +like a bandit, and steal not only the major-domo +of Soledad, but the woman he would steal!”</p> +<p>“It was so simple that the matter is not worth words +except as concerns Clodomiro, who was the only one in +danger.”</p> +<p>“Ah! if ever they had suspected him! You have not +seen that band of men, they are terrible! Of all the men +of José Perez they are the blackest hearts, and if it had +not been for the poor padre–––”</p> +<p>“Tell me of him,” said Kit who perceived she was willing +enough to speak plainly of all things except herself. +“He is a good man?”</p> +<p>“A blessing to me, señor!” she asserted earnestly as +they were seated at the table so carefully prepared by +Valencia. “Look you! I broke away from those animals +and in a little mountain village,––such a one as I was +born in, señor!––I ran to the altar of the little chapel, and +that priest was a shield for me. Against all the men he +spoke curses if they touched me. Well, after that there +was only one task to do, and that was to carry him along. +I think they wanted to kill him, and had not the courage. +And after all that I came away from Soledad without +saving him;––that was bad of me, very bad! I––I think +I went wild in the head when I saw the men play games +of cards, and I to go to the winner! Not even a knife +for food would they give me, for they knew–––”</p> +<p>She shuddered, and laid down quickly the knife she had +lifted from beside her plate, and glanced away when she +found him regarding her.</p> +<p>“It has been long weeks since I was trusted as you are +trusting me here,” she continued quietly. “See! On my +wrists were chains at first.”</p> +<p>“And this Marto Cavayso did that?” demanded Kit +as she showed her scarred slender wrist over which +Valencia had wept.</p> +<p>“No, it was before Cavayso––he is a new man––so +I think this was when Conrad was first helping to plan me +as an insane woman and have me put secretly to prison, +but some fear struck José Perez, and that plan would not +serve. In the dark of night I was half smothered in +wraps and put in an ox-cart of a countryman and hauled +north out of the city. Two men rode as guard. They +chained me in the day and slept, traveling only in the +night until they met Cavayso and his men. After that +I remember little, I was so weary of life! One alcalde +asked about me and Cavayso said I was his wife who had +run away with a gypsy fiddler, and he was taking me +home to my children. Of what use to speak? A dozen +men would have added their testimony to his, and had +sport in making other romance against me. They were +sullen because they thought I had jewels hid under my +clothes, and Cavayso would not let them search me. It +has been hell in these hills of Sonora, Señor Pajarito.”</p> +<p>“That is easy to understand,” agreed Kit wondering +at her endurance, and wondering at the poise and beauty +of her after such experience. There was no trace of +nervousness, or of tears, or self-pity. It was as if all +this of which she told had been a minor affair, dwarfed +by some tragic thing to which he had no key.</p> +<p>“So, Conrad was in this plot against you?” he asked, +and knew that Tula, standing back of his chair had missed +no word. “You mean the German Conrad who is manager +of Granados ranches across the border?”</p> +<p>“Señor, I mean the beast whose trail is red with the +blood of innocence, and whose poison is sinking into the +veins of Mexico like a serpent, striking secretly, now +here, now there, until the blood of the land is black with +that venom. Ay! I know, señor;––the earth is acrawl +with the German lizards creeping into the shining sun of +Mexico! This so excellent Don Adolf Conrad is only +one, and José Perez is his target––I am the one to know +that! A year ago, and Don José was a man, with faults +perhaps; but who is perfect on this earth? Then came +Don Adolf riding south and is very great gentleman and +makes friends. His home in Hermosillo becomes little +by little the house of Perez, and little by little Perez goes +on crooked paths. That is true! First it was to buy a +ship for coast trade, then selling rifles in secret where +they should not be sold, then––shame it is to tell––men +and women were sold and carried on that ship like cattle! +Not rebels, señor, not prisoners of battle,––but herdsmen +and ranch people, poor Indian farmers whom only devils +would harm! Thus it was, señor, until little by little +Don Adolf knew so much that José Perez awoke to find +he had a master, and a strong one! It was not one man +alone who caught him in the net; it was the German comrades +of Don Adolf who never forgot their task, even +when he was north in the States. They needed a man of +name in Hermosillo, and José Perez is now that man. +When the whip of the German cracks, he must jump to +serve their will.”</p> +<p>“But José Perez is a strong man. Before this day he +has wiped many a man from his trail if the man made +him trouble,” ventured Kit.</p> +<p>“You have right in that, señor, but I am telling you +it is a wide net they spread and in that net he is snared. +Also his household is no longer his own. The Indian +house servants are gone, and outlaw Japanese are there +instead. That is true and their dress is the dress of +Indians. They are Japanese men of crimes, and German +men gave aid that they escape from justice in Japan. +It is because they need such men for German work in +Mexico, men who have been taught German and dare +not turn rebel. Not an hour of the life of José Perez +is free from the eyes of a spy who is a man of crimes. +And there are other snares. They tell him that he is to +be a governor by their help;––that is a rich bait to float +before the eyes of a man! His feet are set on a trail made +by Adolph Conrad,––He is trapped, and there is no +going back. Poison and shame and slavery and death +have come upon that trail like black mushrooms grown +in a night, and what the end of the trail will be is hid +in the heart of God.”</p> +<p>“But your sympathy is with those women in slavery +there in the south, and not with the evil friend of José +Perez?” asked Kit.</p> +<p>“Can you doubt, señor? Am I not as truly a victim +as they? I have not worked under a whip, but there are +other punishments––for a woman!”</p> +<p>Her voice dropped almost to a whisper, and she rested +her chin on her hand, staring out into the shadows of +the patio, oblivious of them all. Tula gazed at her as +if fascinated, and there was a difference in her regard. +That she was linked in hate against Conrad gave the +Indian girl common cause with the jewel-eyed woman +whose beauty had been the boast of a province. Kit +noticed it and was vastly comforted. The absolute +stolidity of Tula had left him in doubt as to the outcome +if his little partner had disapproved of his fascinating +protégée. He knew the thing she wanted to know, and +asked it.</p> +<p>“Señora, the last band of Indian slaves from Sonora +were driven from the little pueblo of Palomitas at the +edge of this ranch. And there are sisters and mothers +here with sick hearts over that raid. Can you tell me +where those women were sent?”</p> +<p>“Which raid was that, and when?” asked Jocasta +arousing herself from some memory in which she had been +submerged. “Pardon, señor, I am but a doleful guest at +supper, thinking too deeply of that which sent me here. +Your question?”</p> +<p>He repeated it, and she strove to remember.</p> +<p>“There were many, and no one was told whence they +came. It was supposed they were war prisoners who had +to be fed, and were being sent to grow their own maize. +If it were the last band then it would be the time Conrad +had the wound in the face, here, like a knife thrust, and +that–––”</p> +<p>“That was the time,” interrupted Kit eagerly. “If +you can tell us where those people were sent you will +prove the best of blessings to Mesa Blanca this night.”</p> +<p>She smiled sadly at that and looked from him to Tula, +whom she evidently noted for the first time.</p> +<p>“It is long since the word of blessing has been given +to Jocasta,” she said wistfully. “It would be a comfort +to earn it in this house. But that band was not sent away,––not +far. Something went wrong with the boat down +the coast, I forgot what it was, but there was much +trouble, and the Indians were sent to a plantation of the +General Terain until the boat was ready. I do not know +what plantation, except that Conrad raged about it. He +and Don José had a quarrel, very terrible! That wound +given to him by a woman made him very difficult; then +the quarrel ended by them drinking together too much. +And after that many things happened very fast, and––I +was brought north.”</p> +<p>“And the Indians?”</p> +<p>“Señor, I do not think anyone thought again of those +Indians. They are planting maize or cane somewhere +along the Rio Sonora.”</p> +<p>Tula sank down weeping against the wall, while +Valencia stroked her hair and patted her. Doña Jocasta +regarded her curiously.</p> +<p>“To be young enough to weep like that over a sorrow!” +she murmured wistfully. “It is to envy her, and +not mourn over her.”</p> +<p>“But this weeping is of joy,” explained Valencia. “It +is as the señor says, a blessing has come with you over the +hard road. This child was also stolen, and was clever +to escape. Her mother and her sister are yet there in +that place where the maize is planted. If the boat has not +taken them, then they also may get back. It is a hope!”</p> +<p>“Poor little one! and now that I could make good use +of power, it is no longer mine,” said Jocasta, looking at +Kit regretfully. “A young maid with courage to escape +has earned the right to be given help.”</p> +<p>“She will be given it,” he answered quietly, “and since +your patience has been great with my questions, I would +ask more of this Cavayso we have trapped tonight. He +is raging of curious things there across the patio. Isidro +holds a gun on him that he subdue his shouts, and his offer +is of rich bribes for quick freedom. He is as mad to get +back to Soledad as he was to leave it, and he tells of a trap +set there for someone. It concerns ammunition for the +revolutionists.”</p> +<p>“No, not for them, but for trade in the south,” said +Jocasta promptly. “Yes, Soledad has long been the +place for hiding of arms. It was the task of Don Adolf +to get them across the border, and then a man of Don +José finds a safe trail for them. Sometimes a German +officer from Tucson is of much help there in the north. +I have heard Don José and Conrad laugh about the so +easily deceived Americanos,––your pardon, señor!”</p> +<p>“Oh, we are used to that,” agreed Kit easily, “and it is +quite true. We have a whole flock of peace doves up +there helping the Hohenzollern game. What was the +officer’s name?”</p> +<p>“A name difficult and long,” she mused, striving to +recall it. “But that name was a secret, and another was +used. He was known only as a simple advocate––James, +the name; I remember that for they told me it was the +English for Diego, which was amusing to me,––there is +no sound alike in them!”</p> +<p>“That’s true, there isn’t,” said Kit, who had no special +interest in any advocate named James. “But to +get back to the man in the cell over there and the ammunition, +may I ask if he confided to you anything of +that place of storage? I mean Cavayso?”</p> +<p>“No, señor; and for a reason of the best. He knows +nothing, and all his days and nights were spent searching +secretly for the entrance to that dungeon,––if it is a +dungeon! He thought I should know, and made threats +against me because I would not tell. Myself, I think +José Perez tells no one that hiding place, not even Conrad, +though Conrad has long wanted it! I told Don José that +if he told that he was as good as a dead man, and I believe +it. But now,” and she shook her head fatefully, “now he +is sure to get it!”</p> +<p>“But he swears he must get back to Soledad by sunrise +for a trap is set. A trap for whom?” persisted Kit.</p> +<p>Doña Jocasta shook her head uncomprehendingly.</p> +<p>“God forbid he should get free to put those wolves on +my track; then indeed I would need a knife, señor! He +held them back from me on the trail, but now he would +not hold them back.”</p> +<p>“But the trap, señora?” repeated the puzzled Kit. +“That man was in earnest,––dead in earnest! He did not +know I was listening, his words were only for an Indian,––for +Isidro. Who could he trap? Was he expecting +anyone at Soledad?”</p> +<p>Doña Jocasta looked up with a little gasp of remembrance.</p> +<p>“It is true, a courier did come two days ago from the +south, and Cavayso told me he meant to take me to the +desert and hide me before Don José arrived. Also more +mules and wagons came in. And Elena scolded about +men who came to eat but not to work. Yes, they smoked, +and talked, and talked, and waited! I never thought of +them except to have a great fear. Yesterday after the +lad brought me that letter I had not one thought, but to +count the hours, and watch the sun. But it may be +Cavayso told the truth, and that Don José was indeed +coming. He told me he had promised Perez to lose me +in the Arroya Maldioso if in no other way, and he had +to manage that I never be seen again.”</p> +<p>“Arroya Maldioso?” repeated Kit, “I don’t understand.”</p> +<p>“It is the great quicksand of Soledad, green things +grow and blossom there but no living thing can cross +over. It is beautiful––that little arroya, and very bad.”</p> +<p>“I had heard of it, but forgot,” acknowledged Kit, +“but that is not the trap of which he is raving now. It +is some other thing.”</p> +<p>Doña Jocasta did not know. She confessed that her +mind was dark and past thinking. The ways of Don +José and Conrad were not easy for other men of different +lives to understand;––there was a great net of war +and scheming and barter, and Don José was snared in +that net, and the end no man could see!</p> +<p>“Have you ever heard that Marto Cavayso was once +a lieutenant of General Rotil?” Kit asked.</p> +<p>“The Deliverer!” she gasped, leaning forward and +staring at him. A deep flush went over her face and +receded, leaving her as deathly pale as when the bullet +had been forced from the white shoulder. Her regard +was curious, for her brows were contracted and there +was domination and command in her eyes. “Why do +you say this to me, señor? And why do you think it?”</p> +<p>Kit was astonished at the effect of his words, and quite +as much astonished to hear anyone of the Perez household +refer to Rotil as “the Deliverer.”</p> +<p>“Señora, if you saw him ride side by side with Rotil, +drinking from the same cup in the desert, would you not +also think it?”</p> +<p>Tula rose to her feet, and moved closer to Kit.</p> +<p>“I too was seeing them together, señora,” she said. +“It was at the Yaqui well; I drew the water, and they +drank it. This man of the loud curses is the man.”</p> +<p>Doña Jocasta covered her eyes with her hand, and she +seemed shaken. No one else spoke, and the silence was +only broken by the muffled tones of Marto in the cell, and +the brief bark of Clodomiro’s dog at the corral.</p> +<p>“God knows what may be moving forward,” she said +at last, “but there is some terrible thing afoot. Take me +to this man.”</p> +<p>“It may not be a pleasant thing to do,” advised Kit. +“This is a man’s game, señora, and his words might offend, +for his rage is very great against you.”</p> +<p>“Words!” she said with a note of disdain, and arose +to her feet. She swayed slightly, and Valencia steadied +her, and begged her to wait until morning, for her +strength was gone and the night was late.</p> +<p>“Peace, woman! Who of us is sure of a morning? +This minute is all the time that is ours, and––I must +know.”</p> +<p>She leaned on Valencia as they crossed the patio, and +Tula moved a seat outside the door of Marto’s room. Kit +fastened a torch in the holder of the brick pillar and +opened the door without being seen, and stood watching +the prisoner.</p> +<p>Marto Cavayso, who had been pleading with Isidro, +whirled only to find the barrel of another gun thrust +through the carved grill in the top of the door.</p> +<p>“Isidro,” said Kit, “this man is to answer questions +of the señora. If he is uncivil you can singe him with +a bullet at your own will.”</p> +<p>“Many thanks, señor,” returned Isidro promptly. +“That is a pleasant work to think of, for the talk of this +shameless gentleman is poison to the air.”</p> +<p>“You!” burst out Marto, pointing a hand at Jocasta in +the corridor. “You put witchcraft of hell on me, and +wall me in here with an old lunatic for guard, and +now–––”</p> +<p>Bing! A bullet from Isidro’s rifle whistled past Marto’s +ear and buried itself in the adobe, scattering plaster +and causing the prisoner to crouch back in the corner.</p> +<p>Jocasta regarded him as if waiting further speech, but +none came.</p> +<p>“That is better,” she said. “No one wishes to do you +harm, but you need a lesson very badly. Now Marto +Cavayso,––if that be your name!––why did you carry me +away? Was it your own doing, or were you under orders +of your General Rotil?”</p> +<p>“I should have let the men have you,” he muttered. “I +was a bewitched man, or you never would have traveled +alive to see Soledad. Rotil? Do not the handsome women +everywhere offer him love and comradeship? Would +he risk a good man to steal a woman of whom José Perez +is tired?”</p> +<p>“You are not the one to give judgment,” said a strange +voice outside the barred window.––“That I did not +send you to steal women is very true, and the task I did +send you for has been better done by other men in your +absence.”</p> +<p>Cavayso swore, and sat on the bed, his head in his +hands. Outside the window there were voices in friendly +speech, that of Clodomiro very clear as he told his grandfather +the dogs did not bark but once, because some of +the Mesa Blanca boys were with the general, who was +wounded.</p> +<p>Kit closed and bolted again the door of Cavayso, feeling +that the guardianship of beauty in Sonora involved +a man in many awkward and entangling situations. If +it was indeed Rotil–––</p> +<p>But a curious choking moan in the corridor caused him +to turn quickly, but not quickly enough.</p> +<p>Doña Jocasta, who had been as a reed of steel against +other dangers, had risen to her feet as if for flight at +sound of the voice, and she crumpled down on the floor +and lay, white as a dead woman, in a faint so deep that +even her heartbeat seemed stilled.</p> +<p>Kit gathered her up, limp as a branch of willow, and +preceded by Tula with the torch, bore her back to the +chamber prepared for her. Valencia swept back the +covers of the bed, and with many mutterings of fear +and ejaculations to the saints, proceeded to the work of +resuscitation.</p> +<p>“To think that she came over that black road and held +fast to a heart of bravery,––and now at a word from the +Deliverer, she falls dead in fear! So it is with many who +hear his name; yet he is not bad to his friends. Every +Indian in Sonora is knowing that,” stated Valencia.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XIV_THE_HAWK_OF_THE_SIERRAS' id='CHAPTER_XIV_THE_HAWK_OF_THE_SIERRAS'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2> +<h3>THE HAWK OF THE SIERRAS</h3> +</div> +<p>“That is what we get, Tula, by gathering beauty in +distress into our outfit,” sighed Kit. “She seems +good foundation for a civil war here. Helen of Troy,––a +lady of an eastern clan!––started a war on less, and the +cards are stacked against us if they start scrapping. +When Mexican gentry begin hostilities, the innocent bystander +gets the worst of it,––especially the Americano. +So it is just as well the latest Richard in the field does +not know whose bullet hit him in the leg, and brought his +horse down.”</p> +<p>Tula, who since their entrance to the civilized surroundings +of Mesa Blanca, had apparently dropped all +initiative, and was simply a little Indian girl under orders, +listened impassively to this curious monologue. She +evidently thought white people use many words for a +little meaning.</p> +<p>“The Deliverer says will you graciously come?” she +stated for the second time.</p> +<p>“Neither graciously, gracefully or gratefully, but I’ll +arrive,” he conceded. “His politeness sounds ominous. +It is puzzling why I, a mere trifle of an American ranch +hand, should be given audience instead of his distinguished +lieutenant.”</p> +<p>“Isidro and Clodomiro are talking much with him, and +the man Marto is silent, needing no guard,” said Tula.</p> +<p>“Sure,––Rotil has the whole show buffaloed. Well, +let’s hope, child, that he is not a mind reader, for we have +need of all the ore we brought out, and can’t spare any for +revolutionary subscriptions.”</p> +<p>Kit followed Tula into the <i>sala</i> where a rawhide cot +had been placed, and stretched on it was the man of Yaqui +Spring.</p> +<p>One leg of his trousers was ripped up, and there was the +odor of a greasewood unguent in the room. Isidro was +beside him, winding a bandage below the knee. A yellow +silk banda around the head of Rotil was stained with +red.</p> +<p>But he had evidently been made comfortable, for he +was rolling a cigarette and was calling Isidro “doctor.” +Two former vaqueros of Mesa Blanca were there, and +they nodded recognition to Kit. Rotil regarded him with +a puzzled frown, and then remembered, and waved his +hand in salute.</p> +<p>“Good day, señor, we meet again!” he said. “I am +told that you are my host and the friend of Señor +Whitely. What is it you do here? Is it now a prison, or +a hospital for unfortunates?”</p> +<p>“Only a hospital for you, General, and I trust a serviceable +one,” Kit hastened to assure him. “More of comfort +might have been yours had you sent a courier to permit +of preparation.”</p> +<p>“The service is of the best,” and Rotil pointed to +Isidro. “I’ve a mind to take him along, old as he is! +The boys told me he was the best medico this side the +range, and I believe it. As to courier,” and he grinned, +“I think you had one, if you had read the message right.”</p> +<p>“The surprises of the night were confusing, and a simple +man could not dare prophesy what might follow,” said +Kit, who had drawn up a chair and easily fell into Rotil’s +manner of jest. “But I fancy if that courier had known +who would follow after, he would have spent the night by +preference at Soledad.”</p> +<p>“Sure he would,––hell’s fire shrivel him! That shot of +his scraped a bone for me, and put my horse out of business. +For that reason we came on quietly, and these good +fellows listened at the window of Marto before they carried +me in. It is a good joke on me. My men rounded +up Perez and his German slaver at Soledad today––yesterday +now!––and when we rode up the little cañon +to be in at the finish what did we see but an escape with +a woman? Some word had come my way of a Perez +woman there, and only one thought was with me, that +the woman had helped Perez out of the trap as quickly +as he had ridden into it! After that there was nothing +to do but catch them again. No thought came to me that +Marto might be stealing a woman for himself, the fool! +Perez made better time than we figured on, and is a day +ahead. Marto meant to hide the woman and get back +in time. It’s a great joke that an Americano took the +woman from him. I hope she is worth the trouble,” +and he smiled, lifting his brows questioningly.</p> +<p>“So that was the ‘trap’ that Marto raved and stormed +to get back to?” remarked Kit. “I am still in the dark, +though there are some glimmers of light coming. If +Marto knew of that trap it explains–––”</p> +<p>“There were three others of my men on the Soledad +rancho, drawing pay from Perez. It is the first time +that fox came in when we could spread the net tight. To +get him at another place would not serve so well, for if +Soledad was the casket of our treasure, at Soledad we +make a three strike,––the cattle, the ammunition, and +Perez there to show the hiding place! It is the finish of +four months’ trailing, and is worth the time, and but for +Marto running loco over a girl, there would have been a +beautiful quiet finish at Soledad ranch house last night.”</p> +<p>“But, if your men have Perez–––”</p> +<p>“Like that!” and Rotil stretched out his open hand, +and closed it significantly, with a cruel smile in his black, +swift-glancing eyes. “This time there is no mistake. +For over a week men and stout mules have been going +in;––it is a <i>conducta</i> and it is to take the ammunition. +Well, señor, it is all well managed for me; also we have +much need of that ammunition for our own lads.”</p> +<p>“And it was done without a fight?” asked Kit. “I +have heard that the men picked for Soledad were not +the gentlest band Señor Perez could gather.”</p> +<p>“We had their number,” said Rotil placidly. “Good +men enough, but with their cartridges doctored what +could they do? I sent in two machine guns, and they +were not needed. A signal smoke went up to show me +all was well, and in another minute I heard the horses +of Marto and his girl. He must have started an hour +before Perez arrived. It is a trick of Don José’s that +no one can count on his engagements, but this time every +hill had its sentinels for his trail, not anything was left +to chance.”</p> +<p>“And your accident?” asked Kit politely.</p> +<p>“Oh, I was setting my own guards at every pass when +the runaway woman and men caught my ear and we took +a short cut down the little cañon to head them off. I +knew they would make for here, and that houses were not +plenty––” he smiled as if well satisfied with the knowledge. +“So, as this was a friendly house it would be a +safe bet to keep on coming.” He blew rings of smoke +from the cigarette, and chuckled.</p> +<p>“The boys will think a quicksand has swallowed us, +and no one will be sleeping there at Soledad.”</p> +<p>“Is there anything I can do to be of service,” asked +Kit. “I have a good room and a bed–––”</p> +<p>But the chuckling of Rotil broke into a frank laugh.</p> +<p>“No, señor!” he said with humorous decision, watching +Kit as he spoke, “already I have been told of your +great kindness in the giving of beds and rooms of comfort. +Why, with a house big enough, you could jail all +the district of Altar! Not my head for a noose!”</p> +<p>Kit laughed awkwardly at the jest which was based on +fact, but he met the keen eyes of Rotil very squarely.</p> +<p>“The Indians no doubt told you the reason the jail was +needed?” he said. “If a girl picks a man to take a trail +with, that is her own affair and not mine, but if a girl +with chains on her wrists has to watch men throwing dice +for her, and is forced to go with the winner––well––the +man who would not help set her free needs a dose of lead. +That is our American way, and no doubt is yours, señor.”</p> +<p>“Sure! Let a woman pick her own, if she can find +him!” agreed Rotil, and then he grinned again as he +looked at Kit. “And, señor, it is a safe bet that this +time she’ll find him!––you are a good big mark, not easily +hidden.”</p> +<p>The other men smiled and nodded at the humor of +their chief, and regarded Kit with appreciative sympathy. +It was most natural of course for them to suppose that +if he took a woman from Marto, he meant to win her +for himself.</p> +<p>Kit smiled back at them, and shook his head.</p> +<p>“No such luck for a poor vaquero,” he confessed. +“The lady is in mourning, and much grief. She is like +some saint of sorrows in a priest’s tale, and–––”</p> +<p>“The priests are liars, and invented hell,” stated Rotil.</p> +<p>“That may be, but sometimes we see sad women of +prayers who look like the saints the priests tell about,––and +to have such women sold by a gambler is not good +to hear of.”</p> +<p>No one spoke for a little. The eyes of Rotil closed +in a curious, contemptuous smile.</p> +<p>“You are young, boy,” he said at last, “and even we +who are not so young are often fooled by women. Trust +any woman of the camp rather than the devout saints +of the shrines. All are for market,––but you pay most +for the saint, and sorrow longest for her. And you never +forget that the shrine is empty!”</p> +<p>His tone was mocking and harsh, but Kit preferred to +ignore the sudden change of manner for which there +seemed no cause.</p> +<p>“Thanks for the warning, General, and no saints for +me!” he said good naturedly. “Now, is there any practical +thing I can do to add to your comfort here? Any +plans for tomorrow?”</p> +<p>“A man of mine is already on the way to Soledad, and +we will sleep before other plans are made. Not even +Marto will I see tonight, knowing well that you have +seen to his comfort!” and he chuckled again at the +thought of Marto in his luxurious trap. “My lads will +do guard duty in turn, and we sleep as we are.”</p> +<p>“Then, if I can be of no service–––”</p> +<p>“Tomorrow perhaps, not tonight, señor. Some sleep +will do us no harm.”</p> +<p>“Then good night, and good rest to you, General.”</p> +<p>“Many thanks, and good night, Don Pajarito.”</p> +<p>Kit laughed at that sally, and took himself out of +the presence. It was plain that the Deliverer had obtained +only the most favorable account of Kit as the friend of +Whitely. And as an American lad who sang songs, and +protected even women he did not know, he could not appear +formidable to Rotil’s band, and certainly not in need +of watching.</p> +<p>He looked back at them as the general turned on +his side to sleep, and one of his men blew out the two +candles, and stationed themselves outside the door. As +he noted the care they took in guarding him, and glanced +at the heavy doors and barred windows, he had an uncomfortable +thrill at the conviction that it would serve +as a very efficient prison for himself if his new friends, +the revolutionists, ever suspected he held the secret of +the red gold of El Alisal. It was a bit curious that the +famous lost mine of the old mission had never really been +“lost” at all!</p> +<p>Isidro, looking very tired, had preceded him from +the <i>sala</i>, as Kit supposed to go to bed. The day and night +had been trying to the old man, and already it was the +small hours of a new day.</p> +<p>There was a dim light in the room of Doña Jocasta, +but no sound. Tula was curled up on a blanket outside +her door like a young puppy on guard. He stooped and +touched her shoulder.</p> +<p>“The señora?” he whispered.</p> +<p>“Asleep, after tears, and a sad heart!” she replied. +“Valencia thanks the saints that at last she weeps,––the +beautiful sad one!”</p> +<p>“That is well; go you also to sleep. Your friends keep +guard tonight.”</p> +<p>She made no reply, and he passed on along the corridor +to his own rooms. The door was open, and he was +about to strike a light when a hand touched his arm. +He drew back, reaching for his gun.</p> +<p>“What the devil–––”</p> +<p>“Señor,” whispered Isidro, “make no light, and make +your words in whispers.”</p> +<p>“All right. What’s on your mind?”</p> +<p>“The señora and the Deliverer. Know you not, señor, +that she is sick with shame? It is so. No man has told +him who the woman is he calls yours. All are afraid, +señor. It is said that once Ramon Rotil was content +to be a simple man with a wife of his own choosing, +but luck was not his. It was the daughter of a priest in the +hills, and José Perez took her!”</p> +<p>“Ah-h!” breathed Kit. “If it should be this one–––”</p> +<p>“It is so,––she went like a dead woman at his voice, +but he does not know. How should he, when Don José +has women beyond count? Señor, my Valencia promised +Doña Jocasta you would save her from meeting the +general. That promise was better than a sleeping drink +of herbs to her. Now that the promise is made, how +will you make it good?”</p> +<p>“Holy smoke––also incense––also the pipe!” muttered +Kit in the dark. “If I live to get out of this muddle +I’ll swear off all entangling alliances forevermore! +Come into the kitchen where we can have a fire’s light. +I can’t think in this blackness.”</p> +<p>They made their way to the kitchen, and started a blaze +with mesquite bark. The old Indian cut off some strips +of burro <i>jerke</i> and threw them on the coals.</p> +<p>“That is better, it’s an occupation anyway,” conceded +Kit chewing with much relish. “Now, Isidro, man, you +must go on. You know the land best. How is one to +hide a woman of beauty from desert men?”</p> +<p>“She may have a plan,” suggested Isidro.</p> +<p>“Where is Clodomiro?” asked Kit, suddenly recalling +that the boy had disappeared. The old man did not +answer; he was very busy with the fire, and when the +question was repeated he shook his head.</p> +<p>“I do not know who went. If Tula did not go, then +Clodomiro was the one. They were talking about it.”</p> +<p>“Talking,––about what?”</p> +<p>“About the German. He is caught at Soledad, and +must not be let go, or let die. All the Indians of Palomitas +will be asking the Deliverer for that man.”</p> +<p>“Isidro, what is it they want to do with him?” asked +Kit, and the old Indian ceased fussing around with a stick +in the ashes, and looked up, sinister and reproving.</p> +<p>“That, señor, is a question a man does not ask. If +my woman tells me the women want a man for Judas, +I––get that man! I ask nothing.”</p> +<p>“Good God! And that child, Tula––” began Kit +in consternation, and old Isidro nodded his head.</p> +<p>“It is Tula who asked. She is proving she is a woman; +Clodomiro goes for her because that is his work. Your +white way would be a different way,––of an alcalde and +the word of many witness. Our women have their own +way, and no mistake is made.”</p> +<p>“But Rotil, the general,––he will not permit–––”</p> +<p>“Señor, for either mother or grandmother the general +had an Indian woman. He has the knowing of these +things. I think Tula gets the man they ask for. She is +wise, that child! A good woman will be chosen to have +speech with the Deliverer––when they come.”</p> +<p>“There is a thought in that,” mused Kit, glancing +sharply at the old man. “Do they make choice of some +wise woman, to be speaker for the others? And they +come here?”</p> +<p>“That is how it is, señor.”</p> +<p>“Then, what better way to hide Doña Jocasta than to +place her among Indian women who come in a band for +that task? Many women veil and shroud their heads in +black as she does. The music of her voice was dulled +when she spoke to Marto, and General Rotil had no +memory of having ever heard it. Think,––is there to be +found an old dress of your wife? Can it be done and +trust no one? Doña Jocasta is clever when her fear is +gone. With Tula away from that door the rest is easy. +The dawn is not so far off.”</p> +<p>“Dawn is the time the women of Palomitas will take +the road,” decided Isidro, “for by the rising time of +the sun the Deliverer has said that his rest here is ended, +and he goes on to Soledad where José Perez will have a +trembling heart of waiting.”</p> +<p>“Will they tell him whose trap he is caught in?”</p> +<p>“Who knows? The Deliverer has plans of his own +making. It was not for idleness he was out of sight +when the trap was sprung. He sleeps little, does Ramon +Rotil!”</p> +<p>In a mesquite tree by the cook house chickens began +to crow a desultory warning. And Isidro proceeded to +subtract stealthily a skirt and shawl from wooden pegs +set in the adobe wall where Valencia slept. She startled +him by stirring, and making weary inquiry as to whether +it was the time.</p> +<p>“Not yet, my treasure, that fighting cock of Clodomiro +crows only because of a temper, and not for day. It is I +will make the fire and set Maria to the grinding. Go you +to your sleep.”</p> +<p>Which Valencia was glad to do, while her holiday +wardrobe, a purple skirt bordered with green, and a deeply +fringed black shawl, was confiscated for the stranger +within their gates.</p> +<p>Thrusting the bundle back of an olla in the corridor +he touched Tula on the shoulder.</p> +<p>“The señor waits you in the kitchen,” he muttered in +the Indian tongue, and she arose without a word, and +went silent as a snake along the shadowy way.</p> +<p>It took courage for Isidro to enter alone the room of +Doña Jocasta, as that was the business of a woman. +But Kit had planned that, if discovered, the girl should +apparently have no accomplices. This would protect Tula +and Valencia should Rotil suspect treachery if an occupant +of the house should disappear. It would seem most +natural that a stolen woman would seek to escape homeward +when not guarded, and that was to serve as a reasonable +theory.</p> +<p>She slept with occasional shuddering sighs, as a child +after sobbing itself to sleep. That sad little sound gave +the old Indian confidence in his errand. It might mean +trouble, but she had dared trouble ere now. And there +could not be continual sorrow for one so beautiful, and +this might be the way out!</p> +<p>She woke with a startled cry as he shook her bed, but +it was quickly smothered as he whispered her name.</p> +<p>“It is best you go to pray in the chapel room, and +meet there the women of Palomitas. Others will go to +pray for a Judas; among many you may be hidden.”</p> +<p>She patted his arm, and arose in the dark, slipping on +her clothes. He gave her the skirt and she donned that +over her own dress. Her teeth were chattering with +nervous excitement, and when she had covered herself +with the great shawl, her hand went out gropingly to +him to lead her.</p> +<p>As they did not pass the door of the <i>sala</i>, no notice was +given them by Rotil’s guard. Mexican women were ever +at early prayers, or at the <i>metate</i> grinding meal for breakfast, +and that last possibility was ever welcome to men +on a trail.</p> +<p>In the kitchen Kit Rhodes was seeking information +concerning Clodomiro from Tula, asking if it was true he +would fetch the women of Palomitas to petition Rotil.</p> +<p>“Maybe so,” she conceded, “but that work is not for +a mind of a white man. Thus I am not telling you +Clodomiro is the one to go; his father was what you +call a priest,––but not of the church,” she said hastily, +“no, of other things.”</p> +<p>Looking at her elfin young face in the flickering light +of the hearth fire, he had a realization of vast vistas of +“other things” leading backward in her inherited tendencies, +the things known by his young comrade but +not for the mind of a white man,––not even for the man +whom Miguel had trusted with the secret of El Alisal. +Gold might occasionally belong to a very sacred shrine, +but even sacred gold was not held so close in sanctuary +as certain ceremonies dear to the Indian thought. Without +further words Kit Rhodes knew that there were +locked chambers in the brain of his young partner, and +to no white man would be granted the key.</p> +<p>“Well, since he has gone for them, there is nothing +to say, though the general may be ill pleased at visitors,” +hazarded Kit. “Also you and I know why we should +keep all the good will coming our way, and risk none of +it on experiments. Go you back to your rest since there +is not anything to be done. Clodomiro is at Palomitas +by now, and you may as well sleep while the dawn is +coming.”</p> +<p>She took the strip of roasted meat he offered her, and +went back to her blanket on the tiles at the door of the +now empty room.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XV_THE_JUDAS_PRAYER_AT_MESA_BLANCA' id='CHAPTER_XV_THE_JUDAS_PRAYER_AT_MESA_BLANCA'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XV</h2> +<h3>THE “JUDAS” PRAYER AT MESA BLANCA</h3> +</div> +<p>Isidro was right when he said Ramon Rotil slept but +little, for the very edge of the dawn was scarce showing +in the east when he opened his eyes, moved his +wounded leg stiffly, and then lay there peering between +half-shut eyelids at the first tint of yellow in the sky.</p> +<p>“Chappo,” he said curtly, “look beyond through that +window. Is it a band of horses coming down the mesa +trail, or is it men?”</p> +<p>“Neither, my General, it is the women who are left +of the rancherias of Palomitas. They come to do a +prayer service at an old altar here. Once Mesa Blanca +was a great hacienda with a chapel for the peons, and +they like to come. It is a custom.”</p> +<p>“What saint’s day is this?”</p> +<p>“I am not wise enough, General, to remember all;––our +women tell us.”</p> +<p>“Um!––saint’s day unknown, and all a pueblo on a +trail to honor it! Call Fidelio.”</p> +<p>There was a whistle, a quick tread, and one of the men +of Palomitas stood in the door.</p> +<p>“Take two men and search every woman coming for +prayers––guns have been carried under <i>serapes</i>.”</p> +<p>“But, General–––”</p> +<p>“Search every woman,––even though your own +mother be of them!”</p> +<p>“General, my own mother is already here, and on +her knees beyond there in the altar room. They pray +for heart to ask of you their rights in Soledad.”</p> +<p>“That is some joke, and it is too early in the morning +for jokes with me. I’m too empty. What have Palomitas +women to do with rights in Soledad?”</p> +<p>“I have not been told,” said Fidelio evasively. “It is +a woman matter. But as to breakfast, it is making, and +the <i>tortillas</i> already baking for you.”</p> +<p>“Order all ready, and a long stirrup for that leg,” said +the general, moving it about experimentally. “It is not +so bad, but Marto can ride fasting to Soledad for giving +it to me.”</p> +<p>“But, my General, he asks–––”</p> +<p>“Who is he to ask? After yesterday, silence is best +for him. Take him along. I will decide later if he is of +further use––I may––need––a––man!”</p> +<p>There was something deliberately threatening in his +slow speech, and the guards exchanged glances. Without +doubt there would be executions at Soledad!</p> +<p>Rotil got off the cot awkwardly, but disdaining help +from the guards hopped to a chair against the wall between +the two windows.</p> +<p>Isidro came in with a bowl of water, and a much embroidered +towel for the use of the distinguished guest, +followed by a vaquero with smoking <i>tortillas</i>, and Tula +with coffee.</p> +<p>The general eyed the ornate drawnwork of the linen +with its cobweb fingers, and grinned.</p> +<p>“I am not a bridegroom this morning, <i>muchachita</i>, and +need no necktie of such fineness for my beauty. Bring +a plainer thing, or none.”</p> +<p>Tula’s eyes lit up with her brief smile of approval.</p> +<p>“I am telling them you are a man and want no child +things, my General,” she stated firmly, “and now it +proves itself! On the instant the right thing comes.”</p> +<p>She darted out the door, bumping into Rhodes, and +without even the customary “with your permission” ran +past him along the corridor, and, suddenly cautious, yet +bold, she lifted the latch of the guest room where she +had seen what looked to her like wealth of towels,––and +felt sure Doña Jocasta would not miss one of the plainest.</p> +<p>Stealthy as a cat she circled the bed, scarce daring to +glance at it lest the lady wake and look reproach on her.</p> +<p>But she stepped on some hard substance on the rug by +the wooden bench where the towels hung, and stooping, +she picked it up, a little wooden crucifix, once broken, and +then banded with silver to hold it solid. The silver was +beautifully wrought and very delicate, surely the possession +of a lady, and not a thing let fall by chance from the +pocket of Valencia.</p> +<p>Tula turned to lay it carefully on the pillow beside the +señora, and then stared at the vacant bed.</p> +<p>Only an instant she halted and thrust her hand under +the cover.</p> +<p>“Cold,––long time cold!” she muttered, and with towel +and crucifix she sped back to the <i>sala</i> where Rotil was +joking concerning the compliment she paid him.</p> +<p>“Don’t make dandies of yourselves if you would make +good with a woman,” he said. “Even that little crane +of a <i>muchacha</i> has brain,––and maybe heart for a man! +She has boy sense.”</p> +<p>Kit, seeing her dart into the guest room, stood in his +tracks watching for her to emerge. She gave him one +searching curious look as she sped past, and he realized +in a flash that his glance should have been elsewhere, +or at least more casual.</p> +<p>She delivered the towel and retired, abashed and silent +at the jests of the man she regarded with awe as the god-sent +deliverer of her people. Once in the corridor she +looked into Valencia’s room, then in the kitchen where +Valencia and Maria and other women were hastening +breakfast, and last she sought Clodomiro at the corral.</p> +<p>“Where did you take her, and how?” she demanded, +and the youth, tired with the endless rides and tasks of +two days and nights, was surly, and looked his impatience. +“She, and she, and she! Always women!” he grumbled. +“Have I not herded all of them from over the mesa at +your order? Is one making a slow trail, and must I go +herding again?”</p> +<p>She did not answer, but looked past him at the horses.</p> +<p>“Which did the señora ride from Soledad?” she inquired, +and Clodomiro pointed out a mare of shining +black, and also a dark bay ridden by Marto.</p> +<p>“Trust him to take the best of the saddle herd,” he +remarked. “Why have you come about it? Is the señora +wanting that black?”</p> +<p>“Maybe so; I was not told,” she answered evasively. +“But there is early breakfast, and it is best to get your +share before some quick task is set,––and this day there +are many tasks.”</p> +<p>The women were entering the portal at the rear, because +the chapel of the old hacienda was at the corner. +There was considerable commotion as Fidelio enforced +the order to search for arms;––if the Deliverer suspected +treachery, how could they hope for the sympathy they +came to beg for?</p> +<p>“Tell him there is nothing hidden under our rags but +hearts of sorrow,” said the mother of Fidelio. “Ask +that he come here where we kneel to give God thanks that +El Aleman is now in the power of the Deliverer.”</p> +<p>“General Rotil does not walk, and there is no room +for a horse in this door. Someone of you must speak +for the others, and go where he is.”</p> +<p>The kneeling women looked at each other with troubled +dark eyes.</p> +<p>“Valencia will be the best one,” said an old woman. +“She lost no one by the pale beast, but she knows us +every one. Marta, who was wife of Miguel, was always +mother and spoke for us to the padre, or anyone, but +Marta–––”</p> +<p>She paused and shook her head; some women wept. +All knew Marta was one who cried to them for vengeance.</p> +<p>“That is true,” said Valencia. “Marta was the best, +but the child of Marta is here, and knows more than we. +She has done much,––more than many women. I think +the daughter can speak best for the mother, and that the +Deliverer will listen.”</p> +<p>Tula had knelt like the others, facing a little shelf on +the wall where a carven saint was dimly illuminated by +the light of a candle. All the room was very dark, for +the dawn was yet but as a gray cloak over the world, and +no window let in light.</p> +<p>The girl stood up and turned toward Valencia.</p> +<p>“I will go,” she said, “because it is my work to go +when you speak, but the Deliverer will ask for older +tongues and I will come back to tell you that.”</p> +<p>Without hesitation she walked out of the door, and +the others bent their heads and there was the little click-click +of rosary beads, slipping through their fingers in +the dusk. Among the many black-shawled huddled figures +kneeling on the hard tiles, none noticed the one girl +in the corner where shadows were deepest, and whose +soft slender hands were muffled in Valencia’s fringes.</p> +<p>Kit stood until he noted that the searching for arms +did not include her, and then crossed the patio with +Fidelio on his way to the corrals. If the black mare of +Doña Jocasta could be gotten to the rear portal, together +with the few burros of the older women, she might follow +after unnoticed. The adobe wall at the back was over +ten feet high and would serve as a shield, and the entire +cavalcade would be a half mile away ere they came in +range from the plaza.</p> +<p>He planned to manage that the mare be there without +asking help of any Indian, and he thought he could do +it while the guard was having breakfast. It would be +easy for them to suppose that the black was his own. +Thus scheming for beauty astray in the desert, he chatted +with Fidelio concerning the pilgrimage of the Palomitas +women, and the possibility of Rotil’s patience with them, +when Tula crossed the patio hurriedly and entered the +door of the <i>sala</i>.</p> +<p>The general was finishing his breakfast, while Isidro +was crouched beside him rewinding the bandage after +a satisfactory inspection of the wound. The swelling was +not great, and Rotil, eating cheerfully, was congratulating +himself on having made a straight trail to the physician +of Mesa Blanca; it was worth a lost day to have +the healing started right.</p> +<p>He was in that complacent mood when Tula sped on +silent bare feet through the <i>sala</i> portal, and halted just +inside, erect against the wall, gazing at him.</p> +<p>“Hola! <i>Niña</i> who has the measure of a man! The +coffee was of the best. What errand is now yours?”</p> +<p>“Excellency, it is the errand too big for me, yet I am +the one sent with it. They send me because the mother +of me, and Anita, my sister, were in the slave drive south, +and the German and the Perez men carried whips and +beat the women on that trail.”</p> +<p>Her brave young heart seemed to creep up in her throat +and choke her at thought of those whips and the women +who were driven, for her voice trembled into silence, +and she stood there swallowing, her head bent, and her +hands crossed over her breast, and clasped firmly there +was the crucifix she had found in the guest room. Little +pagan that she was, she regarded it entirely as a fetish of +much potency with white people, and surely she needed +help of all gods when she spoke for the whole pueblo to +this man who had power over many lives.</p> +<p>Rotil stared at her, frowning and bewildered.</p> +<p>“What the devil,––” he began, but Isidro looked up at +him and nodded assent.</p> +<p>“It is a truth she is telling, Excellency. Her father +was Miguel, once major-domo of this rancho. He died +from their fight, and his women were taken.”</p> +<p>“Oh, yes, that!––it happens in many states. But this +German––who says the German and Perez were the +men to do it?”</p> +<p>“I, Tula, child of Miguel, say it,” stated the girl. +“With my eyes I saw him,––with my ears I heard the +sister call out his name. The name was Don Adolf. +Over his face was tied a long beard, so! But it was the +man,––the friend of Don José Perez of Soledad; all are +knowing that. He is now your man, and the women ask +for him.”</p> +<p>“What women?”</p> +<p>“All the women of Palomitas. On their knees in the +chapel they make prayers. Excellency, it robs you of +nothing that you give them a Judas for Holy Week. I +am sent to ask that of the Deliverer.”</p> +<p>She slid down to her knees on the tiles, and looked up +at him.</p> +<p>He stared at her, frowning and eyeing her intently, +then chuckled, and grinned at the others.</p> +<p>“Did I not tell you she had the heart of a boy? And +now you see it! Get up off your knees, <i>chiquita</i>. Why +should you want a Judas? It is a sweetheart I must find +for you instead.”</p> +<p>“I am not getting up,” said Tula stolidly. “I am kneeling +before you, my General. See! I pray to you on the +tiles for that Judas. All the women are praying. Also +the old women have made medicine to send El Aleman +once more on this trail, and see you,––it has come to pass! +You have him in your trap, but he is ours. Excellency, +come once and see all the women on their knees before +the saint as I am here by you. We make prayers for +one thing:––the Judas for our holy day!”</p> +<p>“You young devil!” he grinned. “I wish you were +a boy. Here, you men help me, or get me a crutch. I +will see these women on their knees, and if you don’t +lie–––”</p> +<p>With the help of Fidelio and a cane, he started very +well, and nodded to Kit.</p> +<p>“You pick well, amigo,” he observed. “She is a wildcat, +and of interest. Come you and see. <i>Por Dios!</i> +I’ve seen a crucifixion of the Penitentes and helped dig +the hidden grave. Also I have heard of the ‘Judas’ +death on Holy Friday, but never before this has so young +a woman creature picked a man for it,––a man alive! +Courage of the devil!”</p> +<p>Tula arose, and went before them across the plaza to +the door of the chapel. Kit knew this was the right moment +for him to disappear and get the black mare back +of the wall, but Rotil kept chuckling to him over the +ungirlish request, and so pointedly included him in the +party that there seemed no excuse available for absenting +himself.</p> +<p>A flush of rose swept upward to the zenith heralding +the sun, but in the adobe room, with its door to the west, +no light came, except by dim reflection, and as Tula entered +and the men stood at the threshold, they blocked +the doorway of even that reflection, and the candle at the +saint’s shrine shone dimly over the bent heads of the +kneeling women.</p> +<p>Rotil stood looking about questioningly; he had not +expected to see so many. Then at the sound of the click +of the prayer beads, some recollection of some past caused +him to automatically remove his wide-brimmed hat.</p> +<p>“Mothers,” said Tula quietly, “the Deliverer has +come.”</p> +<p>There was a half-frightened gasp, and dark faces +turned toward the door.</p> +<p>“He comes as I told you, because I am no one by myself, +and he could not know I was sent by you. I am +not anyone among people, and he does not believe. Only +people of importance should speak with a soldier who +is a general.”</p> +<p>“No, <i>por Dios</i>, my boy, you speak well!” said Rotil, +clapping his hand on her shoulder, “but your years are +not many and it cannot be you know the thing you ask +for.”</p> +<p>“I know it,” asserted Tula with finality.</p> +<p>An old woman got up stiffly, and came towards him. +“We are very poor, yet even our children are robbed +from us––that is why we pray. Don Ramon, your +mother was simple as we, and had heart for the poor. +Our lives are wasted for the masters, and our women +children are stolen for the sons of masters. That is done, +and we wish they may find ways to kill themselves on +the trail. But the man who drove them with whips is +now your man––and we mothers ask him of you.”</p> +<p>The wizened old creature trembled as she spoke, and +scarce lifted her eyes. She made effort to speak further, +but words failed, and she slipped to her knees and the +beads slid from her nervous fingers to the tiles. She was +very old, and she had come fasting across the mesa in +the chill before the dawn; her two grandchildren had +been driven south with the slaves––one had been a bride +but a month––and they killed her man as they took +her.</p> +<p>Valencia came to her and wiped the tears from her +cheeks, patting her on the back as one would soothe a +child, and then she looked at Rotil, nodding her head +meaningly, and spoke.</p> +<p>“It is all true as Tia Tomasa is saying, señor. Her +children are gone, and this child of Capitan Miguel +knows well what she asks for. The days of the sorrows +of Jesus are coming soon, and the Judas we want for +that day of the days will not be made of straw to be +bound on the wild bull’s back, and hung when the ride +is over. No, señor, we know the Judas asked of you +by this daughter of Miguel;––it is the pale beast called +El Aleman. For many, many days have we made prayers +like this, before every shrine, that the saints would send +him again to our valley. You, señor, have brought answer +to that prayer. You have him trapped, but he +belongs only to us women. The saints listened to us, +and you are in it. Men often are in prayers like that, and +have no knowing of it, señor.”</p> +<p>Kit listened in amazement to this account of prayers +to Mexican saints for a Judas to hang on Good Friday! +After four centuries of foreign priesthood, and foreign +saints on the shrines, the mental effect on the aborigines +had not risen above crucifixion occasionally on some +proxy for their supreme earthly god, or mad orgies of +vengeance on a proxy for Judas. The great drama of +Calvary had taught them only new forms of torture and +the certainty that vengeance was a debt to be paid. Conrad +was to them the pale beast whipping women into +slavery,––and as supreme traitor to human things must +be given a Judas death!</p> +<p>He shivered as he listened, and looked at the eyes of +women staring out of the dusk for the answer to their +prayers.</p> +<p>“<i>Por Dios!</i>” muttered Rotil, half turning to Kit, yet +losing nothing of the pleading strained faces. “Does +your head catch all of that, señor? Can’t women beat +hell? And women breed us all! What’s the answer?”</p> +<p>“In this case it’s up to you, General,” replied Kit. +“I’m glad the responsibility is not mine. Even as it is, +women who look like these are likely to walk through my +dreams for many a night!”</p> +<p>Rotil gloomed at them, puzzled, frowning, and at times +the flicker of a doubtful smile would change his face +without lighting it. No one moved or spoke.</p> +<p>“Here!” he said at last, “this child and two women +have spoken, but there are over twenty of you here. +Three out of twenty is no vote––hold up your hands. +Come, don’t hang back, or you won’t get Judas! There +are no priests here, and no spies for priests, and there +have been words enough. Show your hands!”</p> +<p>Kit looked back into the darkest corner, wondering +what the vote of Jocasta would be; her mother was said +to be Indian, or half Indian, and her hatred of the German +would help her understand these darker tribal sisters.</p> +<p>But in the many lifted hands her own could not be seen +and he felt curiously relieved, though it was no affair +of his, and one vote either way would weigh nothing.</p> +<p>Rotil looked at the lifted hands, and grunted.</p> +<p>“You win, <i>muchacha</i>,” he said to Tula. “I think +you’re the devil, and it’s you made the women talk. You +can come along to Soledad and fetch their Judas back to +them.”</p> +<p>“My thanks to you, and my service, Excellency,” said +Tula. “I will go and be glad that I go for that. But I +swear by the Body and Blood, and I swear on this, +that I only pay the debt of my people to El Aleman.”</p> +<p>She was helping old Tia Tomasa to her feet with one +hand, and held up the little crucifix to him with the other. +She had noted that white people make oath on a cross +when they want to be believed, and she wished with all +her pagan heart to be believed by this man who had +been a sort of legendary hero to her many months before +she had seen his face, or dared hope he would ever grant +favor to her––Tula!</p> +<p>But whatever effect she hoped to secure by emphasizing +her oath on the Christian symbol, she was not prepared +for the rough grasp on her arm, or the harsh command +of his voice.</p> +<p>“Holy God!” he growled, “why do you thrust that +in my face,––you?”</p> +<p>“Excellency––I––” began Tula, but he shook her +as a cat would shake a mouse.</p> +<p>“Answer me! How comes it in your hands?”</p> +<p>“I found it, señor––and did no harm.”</p> +<p>“When? Where?”</p> +<p>“Why––I––I–––”</p> +<p>A note of warning flashed from some wireless across +the girl’s mind, for it was no little thing by which Ramon +Rotil had suddenly become a growling tiger with his +hand near her throat.</p> +<p>“Where?” he repeated.</p> +<p>“On a trail, señor.”</p> +<p>“When?”</p> +<p>“Three days ago.”</p> +<p>“Where?”</p> +<p>“At the place where the Soledad trail leaves that of +Mesa Blanca.”</p> +<p>Rotil stared at her, and then turned to Kit.</p> +<p>“Do you know of this thing?”</p> +<p>“No, General, I don’t,” he said honestly enough, “but +these women have many such–––”</p> +<p>“No,” contradicted Rotil, “they haven’t,––there’s a +difference.”</p> +<p>He had seized the crucifix and held it, while he scanned +the faces, and then brought his gaze back to Tula.</p> +<p>“You will show me that place, and prove yourself, +<i>muchacha</i>,” he said grimly. “There’s something––something––Do +you know, you damned young crane, +that I can have my men shoot you against the wall out +there if you lie to me?”</p> +<p>“Yes, my General, but it is better to give lead to +enemies––and not friends. Also a knife is cheaper.”</p> +<p>“Silence! or you may get both!” he growled. “Here, +look well––you––all of you! Have any of you but this +creature seen it?”</p> +<p>He held it out, and Valencia, who was nearest, caught +sight of it.</p> +<p>“Ai! Tula!” she said in reproof, “you to take that +when the poor–––”</p> +<p>Tula flashed one killing look at her, and Valencia +stopped dead, and turned an ashen gray, and Rotil +watching!</p> +<p>“Ah––ha! I thought it!” he jeered. “Now whose +trick is it to make me a fool? Come, sift this thing! +You,” to Valencia, “have looked on this before. Whose +is it?”</p> +<p>“Señor––I–––”</p> +<p>“So!” he said with a sort of growl in the voice, “something +chokes you? Look at me, not at the others! Also +listen:––if a lie is told to me, every liar here will go before +a firing squad. Whose is this crucifix?”</p> +<p>Valencia’s eyes looked sorrow on Tula, still under his +hand, and then on the wood and silver thing held up before +her. The sun was just rolling hot and red above +the mountains, and Rotil’s shaggy head was outlined in a +sort of curious radiance as the light struck the white +wall across the patio at his back. Even the silver of the +crucifix caught a glimmer of it, and to Valencia he +looked like the warrior padres of whom her grandmother +used to tell, who would thunder hell’s terrors on the +frightened neophytes until the bravest would grovel in +the dust and do penances unbelievable.</p> +<p>That commanding picture came between her and +Rotil,––the outlaw and soldier and patriot. She stumbled +forward with a pleading gesture towards Tula.</p> +<p>“Excellency, the child does no harm. She is a stranger +in the house. She has picked it up perhaps when lost by +the señora, and–––”</p> +<p>“What señora?”</p> +<p>“She who is most sorrowful guest here, Excellency, +and her arms still bruised from the iron chains of El +Aleman.”</p> +<p>“And her name?”</p> +<p>“Excellency, it is the woman saved from your man +by the Americano señor here beside you. And,––she +asked to be nameless while sheltered at Mesa Blanca.”</p> +<p>“But not to me! So this is a game between you +two––” and he looked from Tula to Kit with sinister +threat in his eyes, “it is then <i>your</i> woman who–––”</p> +<p>“Ramon––no!” said a voice from the far shadows, +and the black shawled figure stood erect and cast off the +muffling disguise. Her pale face shone like a star above +all the kneeling Indians.</p> +<p>“God of heaven!” he muttered, and his hand fell from +the shoulder of Tula. “You––<i>you</i> are one of the women +who knelt here for vengeance?”</p> +<p>“For justice,” she said, “but I was here for a reason +different;––it was a place to hide. No one helped me, let +the child go! Give these women what they ask or deny +them, but send them away. To them I am nameless and +unknown. You can see that even my presence is a thing +of fear to them,––let them go!”</p> +<p>He stared at her across those frightened dark faces. It +was true they drew away from her in terror; her sudden +uprising was as if she had materialized from the cold +tiles of the chapel floor. Kit noted that their startled +eyes were wide with awe, and knew that they also felt +they were gazing on a beauty akin to that of the pictured +saints. Even the glimmer of the candle touching her +perfect cheek and brow added to the unearthly appearance +there in the shadows.</p> +<p>But Ramon Rotil gazed at her across a wider space +than that marked by the kneeling Indian women! Four +years were bridged by that look, and where the others saw +a pale Madonna, he saw a barefooted child weaving +flowers of the mountain for a shrine where poverty prevented +a candle.</p> +<p>He had sold maize to buy candles, and shoes for her +feet, and she had given him the little brown wooden +crucifix.</p> +<p>Once in the height of her reign of beauty in the +hacienda of Perez, a ragged brown boy from the hills +had lain in wait for her under the oleanders, and thrust +a tightly bound package of corn husks into her hand, and +her maid regarded with amazement the broken fragments +of a wooden cross so poor and cheap that even the most +poverty stricken of the peons could own one, and her +wonder was great that her mistress wept over the broken +pieces and strove to fit them together again.</p> +<p>And now it lay in his hand, bound and framed in silver +wires delicately wrought.</p> +<p>He had traveled farther than she during the years between, +and the memento of the past made him know it.</p> +<p>“Ramon, let them go!” she repeated with gentle appeal.</p> +<p>“Yes,” he said, taking a deep breath as if rousing from +a trance, “that is best. Child––see to it, and have your +way. Señor, will you arrange that the señora has what +comfort there is here? Our horses wait, and work +waits–––”</p> +<p>He saw Valencia go with protecting, outstretched +hands to Jocasta, and turned away.</p> +<p>Jocasta never moved. To save her friends from his +rage she had spoken, and to her the big moment of +humiliation dreamed of and feared had come and been +lived through. He had seen her on her knees among +all that brown herd made up of such women as his mother +and her mother had been. From mistress of a palace on +an estate large as many European kingdoms she had become +an outcast with marks of fetters on her arms, while +he was knelt to as a god by the simple people of the +ranges, and held power of life and death over a wide +land!</p> +<p>Kit could not even guess at all the tempestuous background +of the drama enacted there in the chill of the +chapel at sunrise, but the clash of those two outlaw souls +suddenly on guard before each other, thrilled him by the +unexpected. Rotil, profane, ruthless, and jeering, had +suddenly grown still before the face of a woman from +whom he turned away.</p> +<p>“Late! An hour late!” he grumbled, hobbling back to +the plaza. “What did I tell you? Hell of women! +Well, your damned little crane got what she started after––huh! +Why did she lie?”</p> +<p>“Well, you know, General,” said Kit doubtfully, “that +the enmity between you and José Perez is no secret. Even +the children talk of it, and wish success to you––I’ve +heard that one do it! Doña Jocasta is of a Perez household, +so it was supposed you would make prisoner +anyone of their group. And Tula––well, I reckon Tula +listened last night to some rather hard things the señora +has lived through at Soledad, and knew she would rather +die here than go back there.”</p> +<p>Kit realized he was on delicate ground when trying +to explain any of the actions of any of the black and +tan group to each other, but he sought the safest way out, +and drew a breath of relief at his success, for Rotil listened +closely, nodding assent, yet frowning in some perplexity.</p> +<p>“Um! what does that mean,––rather die than go +back?” he demanded. “No one has told me why the +lady has come to Mesa Blanca, or what she is doing +here. I don’t see––What the devil ails you?”</p> +<p>For Kit stared at him incredulous, and whistled softly.</p> +<p>“Haven’t you got it <i>yet</i>?” he asked. “Last night you +joked about a girl Marto stole, and we stole from him +again. Don’t you realize now who that girl is?”</p> +<p>“<i>Jocasta!</i>”</p> +<p>It was the first time he had uttered her name and there +was a low terrible note in his voice, half choked by +smothered rage.</p> +<p>“But how could Marto,––or why should––” he began +and then halted, checked by various conflicting facts, and +stared frowningly at Rhodes who again strove to explain +that of which he had little knowledge.</p> +<p>“General, I reckon Marto was square to your interests +about everything but the woman Perez and Conrad sent +north into the desert, and it was Marto’s job to see that +she never left it alive. Evidently he did not report that +extra task to you, for he meant to save the woman for +himself. But even at that, General, you’ve got to give +him credit. He says she bewitched him, and he couldn’t +kill her, and he wouldn’t let the others have her. Also +he risked a whale of a beating up, and some lead souvenirs, +in trying to save her, even if it was for himself. +So you see, Marto was only extra human, and is a good +man. His heart’s about broke to think he failed you, and +I’ll bet he wouldn’t fail you again in a thousand years!”</p> +<p>“Yes, you have the right of that,” agreed Rotil. “I +did not know; I don’t know yet what this means about +Perez and––and–––”</p> +<p>“None of us do, General,” stated Kit. “I heard +Valencia say it must be something only a confessor could +know,––but it must be rather awful at that! She was +started north like an insane criminal, hidden and in chains. +She explains nothing, but General, you have now the two +men at Soledad who made the plan, and you have here +Marto who was their tool––and perhaps––at Soledad––” +he paused questioning.</p> +<p>“Sure! that is what will be done,” decided Rotil. “See +to it, you, after we are gone. Bring Doña Jocasta to +Soledad with as much show of respect as can be mustered +in a poor land, your girl and Isidro’s wife to go +along, and any comforts you can find. Yes, that is the +best! Some way we will get to the bottom of this well. +She must know a lot if they did not dare let her live, and +Marto––well, you make a good talk for him, straight +too––Marto will go with me. Tell no one anything. +Make your own plans. By sunset I will have time for +this mystery of the chains of Doña Jocasta. Be there at +Soledad by sunset.”</p> +<p>“At your command, General.”</p> +<p>Then Chappo and Fidelio helped their leader into the +saddle. Marto, crestfallen and silently anticipating the +worst, was led out next; a <i>reata</i> passed around the saddle +horn and circling his waist was fastened back of the +saddle. His hands were free to guide his horse, but +Chappo, with a wicked looking gun and three full cartridge +belts, rode a few paces back of him to see that he +made no forbidden use of them.</p> +<p>Kit watched them ride east while the long line of +women of Palomitas took up the trail over the mesa to +the north. Their high notes of a song came back to +him,––one of those wailing chants of a score of verses +dear to the Mexican heart. In any other place he would +have deemed it a funeral dirge with variations, but with +Indian women at sunrise it meant tuneful content.</p> +<p>Kit listened with a shiver. Because of his own vagrant +airs they had called him “El Pajarito” when he first +drifted south over Mexican trails,––but happy erratic +tunefulness was smothered for him temporarily. Over +the vast land of riches, smiling in the sun, there brooded +the threats of Indian gods chained, inarticulate, reaching +out in unexpected ways for expression through the dusky +devotees at hidden shrines. The fact that occasionally +they found expression through some perverted fragment +from an imported cult was a gruesome joke on the importers. +But under the eagle of Mexico, whose wide +wings were used as shield by the German vultures across +seas, jokes were not popular. German educators and +foreign priests with Austrian affiliations, saw to that. +The spiritual harvest in Mexico was not always what the +planters anticipated,––for curious crops sprung up in +wild corners of the land, as Indian grains wrapped in a +mummy’s robe spring to life under methods of alien culturists.</p> +<p>Vague drifting thoughts like this followed Kit’s shiver +of repulsion at that Indian joy song over the promise of a +veritable live Judas. On him they could wreak a personal +vengeance, and go honestly to confession in some +future day, with the conviction that they had, by the +sufferings they could individually and collectively invent +for Judas, in some vague but laudable manner mitigated +the sufferings of a white god far away whose tribulations +were dwelt upon much by the foreign priesthood.</p> +<p>He sensed this without analysis, for his was not the +analytical mind. What brain Kit had was fairly well occupied +by the fact that his own devoted partner was the +moving spirit of that damnable pagan <i>Come, all ye</i>––drifting +back to him from the glorified mesa, flushed +golden now by the full sun.</p> +<p>Clodomiro came wearily up from the corral. The boy +had gone without sleep or rest until his eyes were heavy +and his movements listless. Like the women of Palomitas +he also had worked overtime at the call of Tula, and Kit +wondered at the concerted activity––no one had held +back or blundered.</p> +<p>“Clodomiro,” he said passing the lad a cigarette and +rolling one for himself from good new tobacco secured +from Fidelio, “how comes it that even the women of +years come in the night for prayers when you ride for +them? Do they give heed to any boy who calls?”</p> +<p>Clodomiro gave thanks for the cigarette, but was too +well bred to light it in the presence of an elder or a +superior. He smelled it with pleasure, thrust it over his +ear and regarded Rhodes with perfectly friendly and +apparently sleepy black eyes.</p> +<p>“Not always, señor, but when Tula sends the call of +Miguel, all are surely coming, and also making the +prayer.”</p> +<p>“The call of Miguel? Why––Miguel is dead.”</p> +<p>“That is true, señor, but he was head man, and he had +words of power, also the old Indians listened. Now Tula +has the words, and as you see,––the words are still alive! +I am not knowing what they mean,––the words,––but +when Tula tells me, I take them.”</p> +<p>“<i>O Tippecanoe, and Tyler too!</i>” hummed Kit studying +the boy. “What’s in a word? Do you mean that +you take a trail to carry words you don’t understand, +because a girl younger than you tells you to?”</p> +<p>The boy nodded indifferently.</p> +<p>“Yes, señor, it is my work when it is words of old +prayer, and Tula is sending them. It would be bad not to +go, a quicksand would surely catch my horse, or I might +die from the bite of a <i>sorrilla rabioso</i>, or evil ghosts +might lure me into wide <i>medanos</i> where I would seek +trails forever, and find only my own! Words can do +that on a man! and Tula has the words now.”</p> +<p>“Indeed! That’s a comfortable chum to have around––not! +And have you no fear?”</p> +<p>“Not so much. I am very good,” stated Clodomiro +virtuously. “Some day maybe I take her for my woman;––her +clan talks about it now. She has almost +enough age, and––you see!”</p> +<p>He directed the attention of Rhodes to the strips of red +and green and pink calico banding his arms, their fluttering +ends very decorative when he moved swiftly.</p> +<p>“Oh, yes, I’ve been admiring them. Very pretty,” +said Kit amicably, not knowing the significance of it, but +conscious of the wide range one might cover in a few +minutes of simple Sonora ranch life. From the tragic +and weird to the childishly inane was but a step.</p> +<p>Clodomiro passed on to the kitchen, and Kit smoked his +cigarette and paced the outer corridor, striving for plans +to move forward with his own interests, and employ the +same time and the same trail for the task set by Ramon +Rotil.</p> +<p>Rotil had stated that the escort of Doña Jocasta must +be as complete as could be arranged. This meant a dueña +and a maid at least, and as he had bidden Tula have her +way with her “Judas,” it surely meant that Tula must +go to Soledad. Very well so far, and as Rotil would +certainly not question the extent of the outfit taken along, +why not include any trifles Tula and he chanced to care +for? He remembered also that there were some scattered +belongings of the Whitely’s left behind in the haste +of departure. Well, a few mule loads would be a neighborly +gift to take north when he crossed the border, and +Soledad was nearer the border!</p> +<p>It arranged itself very well indeed, and as Tula emerged +from the patio smoothing out an old newspaper fragment +discarded by Fidelio, and chewing <i>chica</i> given her +by Clodomiro, he hailed her with joy.</p> +<p>“Blessed Indian Angel,” he remarked appreciatively, +“you greased the toboggan for several kinds of hell for +us this day of our salvation, but your jinx was on the +job, and turned the trick our way! Do you know you are +the greatest little mascot ever held in captivity?”</p> +<p>But Tula didn’t know what “mascot” meant, and was +very much occupied with the advertisement of a suit and +cloak house in the old Nogales paper in which some trader +at the railroad had wrapped Fidelio’s tobacco. It had +the picture of an alluring lady in a dress of much material +slipping from the shoulders and dragging around +the feet. To the aboriginal mind that seemed a very great +waste, for woven material was hard to come by in the +desert.</p> +<p>She attempted an inquiry concerning that wastefulness +of Americanas, but got no satisfactory reply. Kit took +the tattered old paper from her hand, and turned it over +because of the face of Singleton staring at him from +the other side of the page. It was the account of the +inquest, and in the endeavor to add interest the local reporters +had written up a column concerning Singleton’s +quarrel with the range boss, Rhodes,––and the mysterious +disappearance of the latter across the border!</p> +<p>There was sympathetic mention made of Miss Wilfreda +Bernard, heiress of Granados, and appreciative mention +of the efficient manager, Conrad, who had offered all +possible assistance to the authorities in the sad affair. +The general expression of the article was regret that the +present situation along the border prevented further investigation +concerning Rhodes. The said Rhodes appeared +to be a stranger in the locality, and had been +engaged by the victim of the crime despite the objections +of Manager Conrad.</p> +<p>There followed the usual praise and list of virtues of +the dead man, together with reference to the illustrious +Spanish pioneer family from whom his wife had been +descended. It was the first time Kit had been aware of +the importance of Billie’s genealogy, and remembering +the generally accepted estimates of Spanish pride, he muttered +something about a “rose leaf princess, and a +Tennessee hill-billy!”</p> +<p>“It’s some jolt, two of them!” he conceded.</p> +<table summary=''><tr><td> +<p class='cg'><i>Twinkle, twinkle little star,<br /> +<span class='indent2'> </span>How I wonder what you are!</i></p> +</td></tr></table> +<p>“They say bunches of stars and planets get on a jamboree +and cross each other’s trail at times, and that our +days are rough or smooth according to their tantrums. +Wish I knew the name of the luminary raising hell for +me this morning! It must be doing a highland fling with +a full moon, and I’m being plunked by every scattered +spark!”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XVI_THE_SECRET_OF_SOLEDAD_CHAPEL' id='CHAPTER_XVI_THE_SECRET_OF_SOLEDAD_CHAPEL'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XVI</h2> +<h3>THE SECRET OF SOLEDAD CHAPEL</h3> +</div> +<p>It took considerable persuasion to prevail upon Doña +Jocasta that a return to Soledad would be of any advantage +to anybody. To her it was a place fearful and +accursed.</p> +<p>“But, señora, a padre who sought to be of service to +you is still there, a prisoner. In the warring of those +wild men who will speak for him? The men of Soledad +would have killed him but for their superstitions, and +Rotil is notorious for his dislike of priests.”</p> +<p>“I know,” she murmured sadly. “There are some +good ones, but he will never believe. In his scales the bad +ones weigh them down.”</p> +<p>“But this one at Soledad?”</p> +<p>“Ah, yes, señor, he spoke for me,––Padre Andreas.”</p> +<p>“And a prisoner because of you?”</p> +<p>“That is true. You do well to remind me of that. +My own sorrows sink me in selfishness, and it is a +good friend who shows me my duty. Yes, we will go. +God only knows what is in the heart of Ramon Rotil that +he wishes it, but that which he says is law today wherever +his men ride, and I want no more sorrow in the +world because of me. We will go.”</p> +<p>Valencia had gone placidly about preparations for the +journey from the moment Kit had expressed the will of +the Deliverer. To hesitate when he spoke seemed a foolish +thing, for in the end he always did the thing he willed, +and to form part of the escort for Doña Jocasta filled +her with pride. She approved promptly the suggestion +that certain bed and table furnishings go to Soledad for +use of the señora, and later be carried north to Mrs. +Whitely, whose property they were.</p> +<p>As capitan of the outfit, Kit bade her lay out all such +additions to their state and comfort, and he would personally +make all packs and decide what animals, chests, +or provisions could be taken.</p> +<p>This was easier managed than he dared hope. Clodomiro +rode after mules and returned with Benito and +Mariano at his heels, both joyously content to leave the +planting of fields and offer their young lives to the army +of the Deliverer. Isidro was busy with the duties of the +ranch stock, and there was only Tula to see bags of +nuggets distributed where they would be least noticed +among the linen, Indian rugs, baskets and such family +possessions easiest carried to their owner.</p> +<p>He marked the packs to be opened, and Tula, watching, +did not need to be told.</p> +<p>The emotions of the night and the uncertainty of what +lay ahead left Rhodes and Doña Jocasta rather silent +as they took the trail to the gruesome old hacienda called +by Doña Jocasta so fearful and accursed. Many miles +went by with only an occasional word of warning between +them where the way was bad, or a word of command +for the animals following.</p> +<p>“In the night I rode without fear where I dare not +look in the sunlight,” said Jocasta drawing back from a +narrow ledge where stones slipped under the hoofs of +the horses to fall a hundred feet below in a dry cañon.</p> +<p>“Yes, señora, the night was kind to all of us,” returned +Kit politely. “Even the accidents worked for +good except for the pain to you.”</p> +<p>“That is but little, and my shoulder of no use to anyone. +General Rotil is very different,––a wound to a +soldier means loss of time. It is well that shot found him +among friends for it is said that when a wolf has wounds +the pack unites to tear him to pieces, and there are +many,––many pesos offered to the traitor who will trap +Rotil by any lucky accident.”</p> +<p>“Yet he took no special care at Mesa Blanca.”</p> +<p>“Who knows? He brought with him only men of the +district as guard. Be sure they knew every hidden trail, +and every family. Ramon Rotil is a coyote for the knowing +of traps.”</p> +<p>She spoke as all Altar spoke, with a certain pride in +the ability of the man she had known as a burro driver +of the sierras. For three years he had been an outlaw +with a price on his head, and as a rebel general the price +had doubled many times.</p> +<p>“With so many poor, how comes it that no informer +has been found? The reward would be riches untold +to a poor <i>paisano</i>.”</p> +<p>“It might be to his widow,” said Doña Jocasta, “but +no sons of his, and no brothers would be left alive.”</p> +<p>“True. I reckon the friends of Rotil would see to +that! Faithful hearts are the ones he picks for comrades. +I heard an old-timer say the Deliverer has that gift.”</p> +<p>She looked at him quickly, and away again, and went +silent. He wondered if it was true that there had been +love between these two, and she had been unfaithful. +Love and Doña Jocasta were fruitful themes for the +imagination of any man.</p> +<p>Valencia was having the great adventure of her life +in her journey to Soledad, and she chattered to Tula as a +maiden going to a marriage. Three people illustrious +in her small world were at once to be centered on the +stage of war before her eyes. She told Tula it was a +thing to make songs of,––the two men and the most +beautiful woman!</p> +<p>When they emerged from the cañon into the wide +spreading plain, with the sierras looming high and blue +beyond, the eyes of Kit and Tula met, and then turned +toward their own little camp in the lap of the mother +range. All was flat blue against the sky there, and no +indications of cañon or gulch or pocket discernible. Even +as they drew nearer to the hacienda, and Kit surreptitiously +used the precious field glasses, thus far concealed +from all new friends of the desert, he found difficulty in +locating their hill of the treasure, and realized that their +fears of discovery in the little cañon had been groundless. +In the far-away time when the giant aliso had flourished +there by the cañon stream, its height might have served +to mark the special ravine where it grew, but the lightning +sent by pagan gods had annihilated that landmark forever, +and there was no other.</p> +<p>The glint of tears shone in the eyes of Tula, and she +rode with downcast eyes, crooning a vagrant Indian air +in which there were bird calls, and a whimpering long-drawn +tremulo of a baby coyote caught in a trap, a weird +ungodly improvisation to hear even with the shining sun +warming the world.</p> +<p>Kit concluded she was sending her brand of harmony +to Miguel and the ghosts on guard over the hidden +trail.––And he rather wished she would stop it!</p> +<p>Even the chatter of Valencia grew silent under the spell +of the girl’s gruesome intonings,––ill music for her entrance +to a new portal of adventure.</p> +<p>“It sounds of death,” murmured Doña Jocasta, and +made the sign of the cross. “The saints send that the +soul to go next has made peace with God! See, señor, +we are truly crossing a place of death as she sings. That +beautiful valley of the green border is the <i>sumidero</i>,––the +quicksands from hidden springs somewhere above,” +and she pointed to the blue sierras. “I think that is the +grave José meant for me at Soledad.”</p> +<p>“Nice cheerful end of the trail––not!” gloomed Kit +strictly to himself. “That little imp is whining of trouble +like some be-deviled prophetess.”</p> +<p>Afterwards he remembered that thought, and wished +he could forget!</p> +<p>Blue shadows stretched eastward across the wide zacatan +meadows, and the hacienda on the far mesa, with its +white and cream adobe walls, shone opal-like in the +lavender haze of the setting sun.</p> +<p>Kit Rhodes had timed the trip well and according to +instruction of the general, but was a bit surprised to find +that his little cavalcade was merely part of a more elaborate +plan arranged for sunset at Soledad.</p> +<p>A double line of horsemen rode out from the hacienda +to meet them, a rather formidable reception committee +as they filed in soldier-like formation over the three miles +of yellow and green of the spring growths, and halted +where the glint of water shone in a dam filled from wells +above.</p> +<p>Their officer saluted and rode forward, his hat in his +hand as he bowed before Doña Jocasta.</p> +<p>“General Rotil presents to you his compliments, +Señora Perez, and sends his guard as a mark of respect +when you are pleased to ride once more across your own +lands.”</p> +<p>“My thanks are without words, señor. I appreciate +the honor shown to me. My generalissimo will answer +for me.”</p> +<p>She indicated Kit with a wan smile, and her moment +of hesitation over, his title reminded him that no name +but El Pajarito had been given him by his Indian friends. +That, and the office of manager of Mesa Blanca, was all +that served as his introduction to her, and to Rotil. With +the old newspaper in his pocket indicating that Kit +Rhodes was the only name connected with the murder at +Granados, he concluded it was just as well.</p> +<p>The guard drew to either side, and the officer and Kit, +with Doña Jocasta between them, rode between the two +lines, followed by Tula and Valencia. Then the guard +fell in back of them, leaving Clodomiro with the pack +animals and the Indian boys to follow after in the dust.</p> +<p>Doña Jocasta was pale, and her eyes sought Kit’s in +troubled question, but she held her head very erect, and +the shrouding lace veil hid all but her eyes from the +strangers.</p> +<p>“Señor Pajarito,” she murmured doubtfully. “The +sun is still shining, and there are no chains on my +wrists,––otherwise this guard gives much likeness to +my first arrival at the hacienda of Soledad!”</p> +<p>“I have a strong belief that no harm is meant to you +by the general commanding,” he answered, “else I would +have sought another trail, and these men look friendly.”</p> +<p>“God send they be so!”</p> +<p>“They have all the earmarks,––and look!”</p> +<p>They were near enough the hacienda to see men +emerge from the portal, and one who limped and leaned +on a cane, moved ahead of the others and stood waiting.</p> +<p>“It is an honor that I may bid you welcome to your +own estate, Doña Jocasta,” he said grimly. “We have +only fare of soldiers to offer you at first, but a few days +and good couriers can remedy that.”</p> +<p>“I beg that you accept my thanks, <i>Commandante</i>,” she +murmured lowly. “The trail was not of my choosing, +and it is an ill time for women to come journeying.”</p> +<p>“The time is a good time,” he said bluntly, “for there +is a limit to my hours here. And in one of them I may +do service for you.”</p> +<p>His men stood at either side watching. There were +wild tales told of Ramon Rotil and women who crossed +or followed his trail, but here was the most beautiful of +all women riding to his door and he gave her no smile,––merely +motioned to the Americano that he assist her from +the saddle.</p> +<p>“The supper is ready, and your woman and the priest +will see that care is given for your comfort,” he continued. +“Afterwards, in the <i>sala</i>–––”</p> +<p>She bent her head, and with Kit beside her passed on +to the inner portal. There a dark priest met her and +reached out his hand.</p> +<p>“No welcome is due me, Padre Andreas,” she said +brokenly. “I turned coward and tried to save myself.”</p> +<p>“Daughter,” he returned with a wry smile at Kit, and +a touch of cynic humor, “you had right in going. The +lieutenant would have had no pleasure in adding me to +his elopement, and, as we hear,––your stolen trail carried +you to good friends.”</p> +<p>Kit left them there and gave his attention to space for +the packs and outfit, but learned that the general had +allotted to him the small corral used in happier days for +the saddle horses of the family. There was a gate to +it and a lock to the gate. Chappo had been given charge, +and when all was safely bestowed, he gave the key to +the American.</p> +<p>The brief twilight crept over the world, and candles +were lit when Kit returned to the corridor. Rotil was +seated, giving orders to men who rode in and dismounted, +and others who came out from supper, mounted and rode +away. It was the guard from a wide-flung arc bringing +report of sentinels stationed at every pass and water hole.</p> +<p>Padre Andreas was there presenting some appeal, and +to judge by his manner he was not hopeful of success. +Yet spoke as a duty of his office and said so.</p> +<p>“What is your office to me?” asked Rotil coldly. “Do +your duty and confess him when the time comes if that is +his wish. It is more than he would have given to her or +the foreman who stored the ammunition. Him he had +killed as the German had Miguel Herrara killed on the +border,––and Herrara had been faithful to that gun running +for months. When man or woman is faithful to +José Perez long enough to learn secrets, he rewards them +with death. A dose of his own brew will be fit medicine.”</p> +<p>“But the woman,––she is safe. She is–––”</p> +<p>“Yes, very safe!” agreed Rotil, sneering. “Shall I +tell you, pious Father, how safe she is? The cholo who +took food to Perez and that German dog has brought me a +message. See, it is on paper, and is clear for any to read. +You––no not you, but Don Pajarito here shall read it. +He is a neutral, and not a padre scheming to save the soul +of a man who never had a soul!”</p> +<p>Kit held it to the light, read it, and returned it to +Rotil.</p> +<p>“I agree with you, General. He offers her to you +in exchange for his own freedom.”</p> +<p>“Yes, and to pay for that writing I had him chained +where he could see her enter the plaza as a queen, if we +had queens in Mexico! You had an unseen audience for +your arrival. The guard reports that the German friend +of Perez seems to love you, Don Pajarito, very much +indeed.”</p> +<p>“Sure he does. Here is the mark of one of his little +love pats with a monkey wrench,” and Kit parted his hair +to show the scar of the Granados assault. “I got that for +interfering when he was trying to kill his employer’s +herds with ground glass in their feed.”</p> +<p>“So? no wonder if he goes in a rage to see you riding +as a lady’s caballero while he feels the weight of chains +in a prison. This world is but a little place!”</p> +<p>“That is true,” said Padre Andreas, regarding Kit, +for the story of the horses was told to me by Doña +Jocasta here in Soledad!”</p> +<p>“How could that be?” demanded Rotil. “Is it not +true you met the lady first at Mesa Blanca?”</p> +<p>“As you say,” said Kit, alert at the note of suspicion, +“if the lady knows aught of Granados, it is a mystery to +me, and is of interest.”</p> +<p>“Not so much a mystery,” said the priest. “Conrad +boasted much when glasses were emptied with Perez +on the Hermosillo rancho, and Doña Jocasta heard. He +told the number of cavalry horses killed by his men, also +the owner of that ranch of Granados who had to be +silenced for the cause.”</p> +<p>“Thanks for those kind words, Padre,” said Kit. “If +Doña Jocasta has a clear memory of that boasting, she +may save a life for me.”</p> +<p>“So?” said Rotil speculatively. “We seem finding +new trails at Soledad. Whose life?”</p> +<p>“The partner of a chum of mine,” stated Kit lightly, +as he did some quick thinking concerning the complications +likely to arise if he was regarded as a possible +murderer hiding from the law. “My own hunch is that +Conrad himself did it.”</p> +<p>“Have you any idea of a trap for him?”</p> +<p>“N-no, General, unless he was led to believe that I was +under guard here. He might express his sentiments more +freely if he thought I would never get back across the +border alive.”</p> +<p>“Good enough! This offer from Perez is to go into +the keeping of Doña Jocasta. You’ve the duty of taking +it to her. We have not yet found that ammunition.”</p> +<p>“Well, it did cross the border, and somebody got it.”</p> +<p>“He says it was moved to Hermosillo before Juan +Gonsalvo, the overseer, died.”</p> +<p>“Was shot, you mean, after it was cached.”</p> +<p>“Maybe so, but he offers to trade part of it for his +liberty, and deliver the goods north of Querobabi.”</p> +<p>“Yes, General,––into the bodies of your men if you +trust him.”</p> +<p>Rotil chuckled. “You are not so young as you look, +Don Pajarito, and need no warning. It is the room next +the <i>sala</i> where I will have Perez and Conrad brought. +The señora can easily overhear what is said. It may be +she will have the mind to help when she sees that offer +he made.”</p> +<p>“It would seem so, yet––women are strange! They +go like the padre, to prayers when a life is at stake.”</p> +<p>“Some women, and some priests, boy,” said the dark +priest. “It may be that you do not know Doña Jocasta +well.”</p> +<p>This remark appeared to amuse Rotil, for he smiled +grimly and with a gesture indicated that they were to +join Doña Jocasta.</p> +<p>She was rested and refreshed by a good supper. +Valencia and Elena, the cook, had waited upon her and +the latter waxed eloquent over the stupendous changes +at Soledad from the time of Doña Jocasta’s supper the +previous day. Many of the angry men had been ready +to start after Marto who had cheated them, when a +courier rode in with the word that Don José and Señor +Conrad were close behind. Then the surprise of all when +Don José was captured, and it was seen that Elena had +been cooking these many days, not for simple vaqueros, +but for some soldiers of the revolution by which peace +and plenty was to come to all the land! It was a beautiful +dream, and the Deliverer was to make it come true!</p> +<p>Tula sat in the shadow against the wall, like some +slender Indian carving, mute and expressionless while +the eyes of the woman rolled as the two old friends exchanged +their wonder tales of the night and day! Elena +made definite engagement to be with the “Judas” trailers +on the dark Friday, and both breathed blessings on +Rotil who had promised them the right man for the +hanging.</p> +<p>It was this cheerful topic Kit entered upon with the +written note from Perez to the general. He had no liking +for his task, as his eyes rested on Doña Jocasta, +beautiful, resigned and detached from the scene about +her. He remembered what Rotil had said scoffingly of +saints lifted from shrines––a man never forgot that +shrine was empty!</p> +<p>“Mine is a thankless task, señora, but the general +decided you are the best keeper of this,” and he gave to +her the scribbled page torn from a note book.</p> +<p>She took it and held it unread, looking at him with +dark tragic eyes.</p> +<p>“I have fear of written words, señor, and would rather +hear them spoken. So many changes have come that I +dread new changes. No matter where my cage is moved, +it is still a cage to me,” she said wistfully.</p> +<p>“I’ve a hunch, Doña Jocasta, that the bars of that cage +are going to be broken for you,” ventured Kit, taking the +seat she indicated, “and this note may be one of the +weapons to do it. Evidently Señor Perez has had some +mistaken information concerning the stealing of you from +here;––he thought it was by the general’s order. So +mistaken was he that he thought you were the object of +Rotil’s raid on Soledad, and for his own freedom he +has offered to give you, and half his stock of ammunition, +to General Ramon Rotil, and agree to a truce between +their factions.”</p> +<p>“Ah! he offers to make gift of me to the man he +hates,” she said after a long silence. “And the guns and +ammunition,––he also surrenders them?”</p> +<p>“He offers––but it is written here! Since the guns, +however, have been taken south, he cannot give them; +he can only promise them, until such time–––”</p> +<p>“Ho!” she said scornfully. “Is that the tale he tells? +It is true there are guns in the south, but guns are also +elsewhere! He forgets, does José Perez,––or else he +plays for time. This offer,” and she referred to the note, +“it is not written since we arrived––no. It was written +earlier, when he thought I was held by that renegade +far in the desert.”</p> +<p>“I reckon that is true, señora, for after receiving it, +Rotil had him chained in a room fronting the plaza that +he might see you enter Soledad with honors.”</p> +<p>“Ramon Rotil did that?” she mused, looking at the +note thoughtfully, “and he gives to me the evidence +against José? Señor, in the Perez lands we hear only +evil things and very different things about Rotil. They +would say this paper was for sale, but not for a gift. +And––he gives it to me!”</p> +<p>Kit also remembered different things and evil things +told of Rotil, but they were not for discussion with a lady. +He had wondered a bit that it was not the padre who +was given the message to transmit, yet suddenly he +realized that even the padre might have tried to make +it a question of barter, for the padre wanted help for his +priestly office in the saving of Perez’ soul, and incidentally +of his life.</p> +<p>“Yes, señora, it seems a free-will offering, and he said +to tell you it would be in the room adjoining this that +Perez would be questioned as to the war material. Rotil’s +men have searched, and his officers have questioned, but +Perez evidently thinks Rotil will not execute him, as a +ransom will pay much better.”</p> +<p>“That is true, death pays no one––no one!”</p> +<p>Her voice was weighted with sadness, and Kit wondered +what the cloud was under which she lived. The +padre evidently knew, but none of Rotil’s men. It could +not be the mere irregularity of her life with Perez, for +to the peon mind she was the great lady of a great +hacienda, and wife of the padrone. No,––he realized +that the sin of Doña Jocasta had been a different thing, +and that the shadow of it enveloped her as a dark cloak +of silence.</p> +<p>“It is true, señora, that death pays no one, except that +the death of one man may save other lives more valuable. +That often happens,” remarked Kit, with the idea of distracting +her from her own woe, whatever it was. “It +might have seemed a crime if one of his nurses had +chucked a double dose of laudanum into Bill Hohenzollern’s +baby feed, but that nurse would have saved the +lives of hundreds of thousands of innocents, so you never +can tell whether a murderer is a devil, or a man doing +work of the angels.”</p> +<p>“Bill?” Evidently the name was a new one to Doña +Jocasta.</p> +<p>“That’s the name of the Prussian pirate of the Huns +across the water. Your friend Conrad belongs to them.”</p> +<p>“My friend! My <i>friend</i>, señor!” and Doña Jocasta +was on her feet, white and furious, her eyes flaming +hatred. Kit Rhodes was appalled at the spirit he had +carelessly wakened. He remembered the statement of +the priest that he evidently did not know the lady well, +and realized in a flash that he certainly did not, also that +he would feel more comfortable elsewhere.</p> +<p>“Señora, I beg a thousand pardons for my foolishness,” +he implored. “My––my faulty Spanish caused +me to speak the wrong word. Will you not forgive me +such a stupid blunder? Everyone knows the German +brute could not be a friend of yours, and that you could +have only hatred of his kind.”</p> +<p>She regarded him steadily with the ever ready suspicion +against an Americano showing in her eyes, but his regret +was so evident, and his devotion to her interests so sincere, +that the tension relaxed, and she sank back in her +chair, her hand trembling as she covered her eyes for +a moment.</p> +<p>“It is I who am wrong, señor. You cannot know how +the name of that man is a poison, and why absolution +is refused me because I will not forgive,––and will not say +I forgive! I will not lie, and because of the hate of him +my feet will tread the fires of hell. The padre is telling +me that, so what use to pray? Of what use, I ask you?”</p> +<p>Kit could see no special use if she had accepted the +threat of the priest that hell was her portion anyway.</p> +<p>“Oh, I would not take that gabble of a priest seriously +if I were you,” he suggested. “No one can beat me in +detesting the German and what he stands for, but I have +no plans of going to hell for it––not on your life! To +hate Conrad, or to kill him would be like killing a rattlesnake, +or stamping a tarantula into the sand. He has +been let live to sting too many, and Padre Andreas tells +me you heard him boast of an American killing at +Granados!”</p> +<p>“That is true, señor, and it was so clever too! It was +pleasure for him to tell of that because of clever tricks +in it. They climbed poles to the wires and called the +man to a town, then they waited on that road and shot +him before he reached the town. The alcalde of that +place decided the man had killed himself, and Conrad +laughed with José Perez on account of that, because they +were so clever!”</p> +<p>“They?” queried Kit trying to prevent his eagerness +from showing in his voice. “Who helped him? Not +Perez?”</p> +<p>“No, señor, in that sin José had no part. It was +a very important man who did not appear important;––quite +the other way, and like a man of piety. His name, +I am remembering it well, for it is Diego,––but said in +the American way, which is James.”</p> +<p>“Diego, said in the American way?” repeated Kit +thoughtfully. “Is he then an American?”</p> +<p>“Not at all, señor! He is Aleman <i>commandante</i> for +the border. His word is an order for life or death, +and José Perez is of his circle. The guns buried by Perez +are bought with the German money; it is for war of +Sonora against Arizona when that day comes.”</p> +<p>“Shucks! that day isn’t coming unless the Huns put +more of a force down here than is yet in sight,” declared +Kit, “but that ‘Diego’ bothers me. I know many +James’,––several at Granados, but not the sort you tell +of, señora. Will you speak of that murder again, and +let it be put on paper for me? I have friends at Granados +who may be troubled about it, and your help would be +as––as the word of an angel at the right hour.”</p> +<p>“A sad angel, señor,” she said with a sigh, “but why +should I not help you to your wish since you have guarded +me well? It is a little thing you ask.”</p> +<p>The Indian women at the far end of the <i>sala</i> had +lowered their voices, but their gossip in murmurs and +expressive gestures flowed on, and only Tula gave heed +to the talk at the table of wars and guns, and secrets of +murder, and that was no new thing in Sonora.</p> +<p>One door of the <i>sala</i> opened from the patio, and another +into a room used as a chapel after the old adobe +walls of the mission church had melted utterly back into +the earth. Rotil had selected it merely because its only +window was very high, an architectural variation caused +by a wing of the mission rooms still standing when +Soledad hacienda was built. A new wall had been built +against the older and lower one which still remained, +with old sleeping cells of the neophytes used as tool sheds, +and an unsightly litter of propped or tumbling walls back +of the ranch house.</p> +<p>The door from the <i>sala</i> was slightly ajar, and the +voice of Fidelio was heard there. He asked someone for +another candle, and another chair. And there was the +movement of feet, and rearrangement of furniture.</p> +<p>Rotil entered the <i>sala</i> from the patio, and stood just +inside, looking about him.</p> +<p>With a brief word and gesture he indicated that Elena +and Valencia vacate. At Tula he glanced, but did not +bid her follow. He noted the folded paper in the hand +of Doña Jocasta, but did not address her; it was to Kit +he spoke.</p> +<p>“The door will be left open. I learn that Conrad distrusts +Perez because he paid German money, and shipped +the guns across the border, but Perez never uncovered +one for him. They are badly scared and ready to cut +each other’s throats if they had knives. Doña Jocasta +may overhear what she pleases, and furnish the knives +as well if she so decides.”</p> +<p>But Doña Jocasta with a shudder put up her hand in +protest.</p> +<p>“No knife, no knife!” she murmured, and Rotil +shrugged his shoulders and looked at Kit.</p> +<p>“That little crane in the corner would walk barefoot +over embers of hell to get a knife and get at Conrad,” +he said. “You have taste in your favorites, señor.”</p> +<p>He seemed to get a certain amusement in the contemplation +of Kit and Tula; he had seen no other American +with quite that sort of addition to his outfit. Kit +was content to let him think his worst, as to tell the truth +would no doubt lose them a friend. It tickled the general’s +fancy to think the thin moody Indian girl, immature +and childlike, was an American’s idea of a sweetheart!</p> +<p>Voices and the clank of chains were heard in the +patio, and then in the next room.</p> +<p>“Why bring us here when your questions were given +answer as well in another place?” demanded a man’s +voice, and at that Doña Jocasta looked at Rotil.</p> +<p>“Yes, why do you?” she whispered.</p> +<p>He stared at her, frowning and puzzled.</p> +<p>“Did I not tell you? I did it that you might hear him +repeat his offer. What else?”</p> +<p>“I––see,” she said, bending her head, but as Rotil +went to the door, Kit noted that the eyes of Doña Jocasta +followed him curiously. He concluded that the unseen +man of the voice was José Perez.</p> +<p>Then the voice of Conrad was heard cursing at a chain +too heavy. Rotil laughed, and walked into the chapel.</p> +<p>“I can tell you something, you German Judas!” he +said coldly. “You will live to see the day when these +chains, and this safe old chapel, will be as a paradise +you once lived in. You will beg to crawl on your knees +to be again comfortably inside this door.”</p> +<p>“Is that some Mexican joke?” asked Conrad, and +Rotil laughed again.</p> +<p>“Sure it is, and it will be on you! They tell me you +collect girls in Sonora for a price. Well, they have grown +fond of you,––the Indian women of Sonora! They say +you must end your days here with them. I have not +heard of a ransom price they would listen to,––though +you might think of what you have to offer.”</p> +<p>“Offer?” growled Conrad. “How is there anything +to offer in Sonora when Perez here has sent the guns +south?”</p> +<p>“True, the matter of ransom seems to rest with Señor +Perez who is saving of words.”</p> +<p>“I put the words on paper, and sent it by your man,” +said Perez. “What else is there to say?”</p> +<p>“Oh, that?” returned Rotil. “My boys play tricks, +and make jokes with me like happy children. Yes, +Chappo did bring words on paper,––foolish words he +might have written himself. I take no account of such +things. You are asked for the guns, and I get foolish +words on paper of a woman you would trade to me, and +guns you would send me.”</p> +<p>“Well?”</p> +<p>“Who gives you right to trade the woman, señor?”</p> +<p>“Who has a better right? She belongs to me.”</p> +<p>“Very good! And her name?”</p> +<p>“You know the name.”</p> +<p>“Perhaps, but I like my bargains with witness, and +they must witness the name.”</p> +<p>“Jocasta––” There was a slight hesitation, and Rotil +interrupted.</p> +<p>“She has been known as Señora Jocasta Perez, is it +not so?”</p> +<p>“Well––yes,” came the slow reply, “but that was foolishness +of the peons on my estates. They called her that.”</p> +<p>“Very good! One woman called Jocasta Perez is +offered to me in trade with the guns. José Perez, have +you not seen that the Doña Jocasta Perez is even now +mistress of Soledad, and that my men and I are as her +servants?”</p> +<p>Jocasta on the other side of the door strangled a half +sob as she heard him, and crept nearer the door.</p> +<p>“Oh, you are a good one at a bargain, Ramon Rotil! +You try to pretend the woman cannot count in this trade, +but women always count,––women like Jocasta!”</p> +<p>“So? Then we will certainly take count of the woman––one +woman! Now to guns and ammunition. How +many, and where?”</p> +<p>“At Hermosillo, and it will take a week.”</p> +<p>“I have no week to waste, and I do not mean the +guns at Hermosillo. You have five minutes, José Perez. +Also those playful boys are building a nice warm fire +for the branding irons. And you will both get a +smell of your own burning hides if I wait longer for an +answer.”</p> +<p>“Holy God!” shouted Conrad. “Why burn me for +his work? From me the guns have been hid as well as +from you;––all I got was promises! They are my +guns,––my money paid, but he is not straight! Here +at Soledad he was to show me this time, but I think now +it was a trick to murder me as he murdered Juan Gonsalvo, +the foreman who stored them away for him.”</p> +<p>“Animal!” growled Perez. “You have lost your head +to talk of murders to me! Two murders at Granados are +waiting for you, and it is not far to ship you back to the +border! Walk with care, señor!”</p> +<p>“You are each wasting time with your truth telling,” +stated Rotil. “This is no time to count your dead men. +It is the count of the guns I want. And a sight of the +ammunition.”</p> +<p>“Give me a guide to Hermosillo, and the price of guns +can be got for you.”</p> +<p>“It is not the <i>price</i> of guns I asked you for, it is +guns,––the guns Conrad and Herrara got over the border for +you. Your time is going fast, José Perez.”</p> +<p>“They are not to be had this side of Hermosillo, send +me south if you want them. But it is well to remember +that if an accident happens to me you never could get +them,––never! I alone know their hiding place.”</p> +<p>“For that reason have I waited for your visit to Soledad,––you +and your carts and your pack mules,” stated +Rotil. “Do not forget that Marto Cavayso and other +men of mine have been for weeks with your ranchmen. +Your pack train comes here empty, and means one thing +only––they came for the American guns! Your minutes +are going, señor, and the branding irons are getting heat +from the fire. One more minute!”</p> +<p>“Write the figures of the ransom, and grant me a messenger +to Hermosillo. You have the whip hand, you +can make your price.”</p> +<p>“But me? What of <i>my</i> ransom?” demanded Conrad. +“My money, and my time paid for those guns––I have +not seen one of them this side of the border! If no guns +are paid for me, money must be paid.”</p> +<p>“No price is asked for you. I told you the women +have named no ransom.”</p> +<p>“Women? That is foolishness. It is not women for +whom you hold me! He has turned traitor, has Perez! +He wants me sent back across the border without that +price of the guns for his mushroom government! He has +told his own tales of Herrara, and of Singleton, and they +are lies––all lies!”</p> +<p>“But what of the tale of Diego, said in the American +way?” asked Kit stepping inside the room.</p> +<p>“Diego! Diego!” repeated Conrad and made a leap +at Perez. “You have sold me out to the Americans, you +scum! James warned me you were scum of the gutters, +and now–––”</p> +<p>The guard caught him, and he stood there shaking with +fury in the dim light. Perez drew away with a curse.</p> +<p>“To hell with you and James and your crew on the +border,” he growled. “I care nothing as to how soon the +damned gringos swing you both. When you Germans +want to use us we are your ‘dear brothers.’ When we +out-trick you, we are only scum, eh? You can tell your +<i>commandante</i> James that I won the game from him, and +all the guns!”</p> +<p>“My thanks to you, General Rotil, that I have been +allowed to hear this,” said Kit, “also that I have witness. +I’d do as much for you if the chance comes. Two men +were killed on the border by Conrad under order of this +James. Herrara was murdered in prison for fear he +would turn informer about the guns. Singleton was murdered +to prevent him investigating the German poisoning +of cavalry horses. The German swine meant to control +Granados rancho a few months longer for their own +purposes.”</p> +<p>“<i>Meant</i> to?” sneered Conrad. “You raw cub!––you +are playing with dynamite and due for a fall. So is your +fool country! Though Perez here has lost his nerve and +turned traitor to our deal, that is only a little puff of wind +against the bulwarks of the Fatherland! We will hold +Granados; we will hold the border; and with Mexico +(not this crook of the west, but <i>real</i> Mexico) we will win +and hold every border state and every Pacific coast state! +You,––poor fool!––will never reach Granados alive to +tell this. You are but one American in the Indian wilderness, +and you are sure to go under, but you go knowing +that though James and I die, and though a thousand more +of us die, there will be ten thousand secret German +workers in America to carry on our plan until all the +world will be under the power of the Prussian eagle! +You,––who think you know so much, can add <i>that</i> to +finish your education in Sonora, and carry it to hell with +you!”</p> +<p>His voice, coldly contemptuous at first, had risen to a +wrathful shriek as he faced the American and hurled at +him the exultance of the Teuton dream.</p> +<p>“I certainly am in great luck to be your one American +confessor,” grinned Kit, “but I’ll postpone that trip as +long as possible. I reckon General Rotil will let the +padre help me make note of this education you are handing +out to me. A lot of Americans need it! Have I your +permission, General?”</p> +<p>“Go as far as you like,” snapped Rotil. “They have +used up their time limit in scolding like old women. +Perez, I wait for the guns.”</p> +<p>“Send me to Hermosillo and I will recover enough for +a ransom,” said Perez.</p> +<p>Rotil regarded him a moment through half-closed, +sinister eyes.</p> +<p>“That was your last chance, and you threw it away. +Chappo, strip him; Fidelio, fetch the branding irons.”</p> +<p>Perez shrank back, staring at Rotil as if fascinated. +He was striving to measure the lengths to which the +“Hawk of the Sierras” would go, and a sudden gleam of +hope came into his eyes as Padre Andreas held up a crucifix +before Chappo, waving him aside.</p> +<p>“No, Rotil,––torture is a thing for animals, not men! +Hell waits for the sinner who–––”</p> +<p>“Hell won’t wait for you one holy minute!” snapped +Rotil. “Get back with the women where you belong; +there is men’s work to do here.”</p> +<p>He caught the priest by the arm in an iron grip and +whirled him towards the <i>sala</i>. The man would have +fallen but for Kit who caught him, but could not save +the crash of his head against the door. Blood streamed +from a cut in his forehead, and thus he staggered into the +room where Doña Jocasta stood, horror-stricken and +poised for flight.</p> +<p>But the sight of the blood-stained priest, and the sound +of a strange, half animal cry from the other room, turned +her feet that way.</p> +<p>“No, Ramon! No-<i>no</i>!” she cried and sped through +the door to fling herself between him and his victims.</p> +<p>Her arms were stretched wide and she halted, almost +touching him, with her back to the chained man towards +whom she had not glanced, but she could not help seeing +the charcoal brazier with the red-hot branding irons held +by Fidelio. The gasping cry had come from Conrad by +whom the brazier was set.</p> +<p>Ramon Rotil stared at her, frowning as if he would +fling her from his path as he had the priest.</p> +<p>“No, Ramon!” she said again, still with that supplicating +look and gesture, “send them out of here,––both +these men. I would smother and die in a room with +that German beast. You will not be sorry, Ramon Rotil, +I promise you that,––I promise you by the God I dare not +face!”</p> +<div class='figtag'> +<a name='linki_3' id='linki_3'></a> +</div> +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/illus-280.jpg' alt='' title='' width='372' height='572' /><br /> +<p class='caption'> +“No, Ramon! No!” she cried, and flung herself between him and his victims.<br /> +</p> +</div> +<p>“Ho!” snarled Perez. “Is the priest also her lover +that she–––”</p> +<p>“Send the German out, and let José Perez stay to see +that I keep my promise,” she said letting her arms fall at +her side, but facing Rotil with an addition of hauteur in +her poise and glance. “The price he will pay for the +words he has spoken here will be a heavy price,––one he has +risked life to hold! Send that pale snake and your men +outside, Ramon.”</p> +<p>Perez was leaning forward, his face strained and white, +watching her. He could not see her face, but the glimpse +of hope came again into his eyes––a woman might succeed +with Rotil where a priest would fail!</p> +<p>Rotil, still frowning at her, waved his hand to Chappo +and Fidelio.</p> +<p>“Take him away,” he said, “and wait beyond.”</p> +<p>The shuffling movement and clank of chains was heard, +but she did not turn her head. Instead she moved past +Rotil, lifted a candle, and went towards the shrine at +the end of the room.</p> +<p>A table was there with a scarf across it, and back of +the table three steps leading up to a little platform on +which were ranged two or three mediocre statues of +saints, once brilliant with blue and scarlet and tinsel, but +tarnished and dim from the years.</p> +<p>In the center was a painting, also dark and dim in +which only a halo was still discernible in the light of the +candle, but the features of the saint pictured there were +shadowed and elusive.</p> +<p>For a moment she knelt on the lower step and bent her +head because of those remnants of a faith which was all +she knew of earthly hope,––and then she started to mount +the steps.</p> +<p>“The curse of God shrivel you!” muttered Perez in +cold fury––“come down from there!”</p> +<p>Without heed to the threat, she moved the little statues +to right or left, and then lifted her hand, resting it on +the wooden frame of the painting.</p> +<p>“Call the Americano,” she said without turning. “You +will need a man, but not a man of Altar. Another day +may come when you, Ramon, may have need of this +house for hiding!”</p> +<p>Rotil strode to the door and motioned Kit to enter, +then he closed both doors and gave no heed to Perez, +crouched there like a chained coyote in a trap.</p> +<p>“Come down!” he said again. “You are in league +with hell to know of that. I never gave it to you! Come +down! I meant to tell after he had finished with Conrad––I +mean to tell!”</p> +<p>“He waited too long, and spoke too much,” she said +to Rotil. “Keep watch on him, and let the Americano +give help here.”</p> +<p>Kit mounted the step beside her, and at her gesture +took hold of the frame on one side. She found a wedge +of wood at the other side and drew it out. The loosened +frame was lifted out by Kit and carried down the three +steps; it was a panel a little over two feet in width and +four in height.</p> +<p>“Set it aside, and watch José Perez while General +Rotil looks within,” she said evenly.</p> +<p>Rotil glanced at Perez scowling black hate at her, and +then turned to Jocasta who held out the candle.</p> +<p>“It is for you to see,––you and no other,” she said. +“You have saved a woman he would have traded as a +slave, and I give you more than a slave’s ransom.”</p> +<p>He took the candle and his eyes suddenly flamed with +exultation as her meaning came to him.</p> +<p>“<i>Jocasta!</i>” he muttered as if scarce believing, and then +he mounted the step, halted an instant in the panel of +shadow, and, holding the candle over his head, he leaned +forward and descended on the other side of the wall.</p> +<p>“You damned she-wolf of the hills!” growled Perez +with the concentrated hate of utter failure in his voice. +“I fed you, and my money covered your nakedness, and +now you put a knife in my neck and go back to cattle of +the range for a mate! You,––without shame or soul!”</p> +<p>“That is true,” she said coldly. “You killed a soul +in the <i>casita</i> of the oleanders, José Perez, and it was a +dead woman you and the German chained to be buried +in the desert. But even the dead come back to help +friends who are faithful, José,––and I am as the dead +who walk.”</p> +<p>She did not look at him as she spoke, but sank on her +knees before the dark canvas where only the faint golden +halo gave evidence of some incarnated holiness portrayed +there. Her voice was low and even, and the sadness of it +thrilled Kit. He thought of music of sweet chords, and +a broken string vibrating, for the hopelessness in her voice +held a certain fateful finality, and her delicate dark loveliness–––</p> +<p>Rotil emerged from the doorway of the shrine and +stood there, a curious substitute for the holy picture, looking +down on her with a wonderful light in his face.</p> +<p>“Your ransom wins for you all you wish of me,––except +the life of one man,” he said, and with a gesture +indicated that Kit help her to her feet. He did so, and +saw that she was very white and trembling.</p> +<p>Rotil looked at Perez over her head, and Perez scowled +back, with all the venom of black hate.</p> +<p>“You win!––but a curse walks where she walks. Ask +her? Ask Marto of the men she put under witchcraft! +Ask Conrad who had good luck till she hated him! If +you have a love, or a child, or anything dear, let her not +look hate on them, for her knife follows that look! Ask +her of the knife she set in the heart of a child for jealousy +of Conrad! Ai, general though you are, your whole army +is not strong enough to guard you from the ill luck you +will take with the gift <i>she</i> gives! She is a woman under +a curse. Ha! Look at her as I say it, for you hear the +truth. Ask the padre!”</p> +<p>Kit realized that Perez was launching against her the +direst weight of evil the Mexican or Indian mind has to +face. Though saints and heaven and hell might be denied +by certain daring souls, the potency of witchcraft was +seldom doubted. Men or women accused of it were +shunned as pariahs, and there had been known persons +who weakened and dwindled into death after accusation +had been put against them.</p> +<p>He thought of it as she cowered under each separate +count of the curse launched against her. She bent like a +slender reed under the strokes of a flail, lower and lower +against his arm, but when the deadly voice flung the final +taunt at her, she straightened slowly and looked at Rotil.</p> +<p>“Yes, ask the padre––or ask me!” she said in that +velvet soft voice of utter despair. “That I sent an innocent +soul to death is too true. To my great sorrow I did +it;––I would do it again! For that my life is indeed a +curse to me,––but his every other word a lie!”</p> +<p>Then she took a step forward, faltered, and fell back +into the outstretched arm of Kit.</p> +<p>“Take Señora Perez to the women, and come back,” +said Rotil. Kit noted that even though he moved close, +and bent over the white unconscious face, he did not touch +her.</p> +<p>“Señora Perez!” repeated Perez contemptuously. +“You are generous with other men’s names for your +women! Her name is the Indian mother’s name.”</p> +<p>“Half Indian,” corrected Rotil, “and her naming I +will decide another time.”</p> +<p>Kit returned, and without words proceeded to help replace +the holy picture in its niche. In the struggle with +the padre, a chunk of adobe had been knocked from the +wall near the door, and he picked it up, crumbling it to +a soft powder and sprinkled it lightly over the steps +where foot prints were traceable in the dust.</p> +<p>Rotil who had gone to the door to recall the guard, +halted and watched him closely.</p> +<p>“Good!” he said. “You also give me a thought concerning +this animal; he will bark if he has listeners, and +even the German should not hear––one never knows! +I need a cage for a few hours. You have been a friend, +and know secret things. Will you lock him in your own +room and hold the key to yourself?”</p> +<p>“Surest thing you know,” answered Kit though with +the uncomfortable certainty that the knowledge of too +many secret things in Mexico was not conducive to long +life for the knower. “I may also assure you that Marto +is keen on giving you honest service that his one fault +may be atoned for.”</p> +<p>“He will get service,” stated Rotil. “You saved me +a good man there, amigo.”</p> +<p>He flung open the door of the corridor and whistled +for the guard.</p> +<p>“Remove this man and take your orders from Capitan–––” +He halted, and his eyes narrowed quizzically.</p> +<p>“It seems we never were introduced, amigo, and we +know only your joy name of the singer, but there must be +another.”</p> +<p>“Oh, yes, there’s another, all right,” returned Kit, +knowing that Conrad would enlighten Rotil if he did not. +“I’m the hombre suspected of that Granados murder +committed by Conrad,––and the name is Rhodes.”</p> +<p>“So? Then the scolding of these two comrades gives +to you your freedom from suspicion, eh? That is good, +but––” He looked at Kit, frowning. “See here, I +comprehend badly. You told me it was the friend of +your <i>compadre</i> who was the suspected one!”</p> +<p>“Sure! I’ve a dandy partner across the border. He’s +the old man you saw at Yaqui Spring, and I reckon I’m +a fairly good friend of his. He’d say so!”</p> +<p>Rotil’s face relaxed in a grin.</p> +<p>“That is clever, a trick and no harm in it, but––have +a care to yourself! It is easy to be too clever, and on a +trail of war no one has time to learn if tricks are of harm +or not. Take the warning of a friend, Capitan Rhodes!”</p> +<p>“You have the right of it, General. I have much to +learn,” agreed Kit. “But no man goes abroad to shout +the crimes he is accused of at home,––and the story of +this one is very new to me. This morning I learned I +was thought guilty, and tonight I learn who is the criminal, +and how the job was done. This is quick work, and +I owe the luck of it to you.”</p> +<p>“May the good luck hold!” said Rotil. “And see that +the men leave you alone as the guard of Perez. I want +no listeners there.”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XVII_THE_STORY_OF_DOA_JOCASTA' id='CHAPTER_XVII_THE_STORY_OF_DOA_JOCASTA'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XVII</h2> +<h3>THE STORY OF DOÑA JOCASTA</h3> +</div> +<p>Ramon Rotil stood a long minute after the clank +of chains ceased along the corridor; then he bolted +the outer door of the chapel, and after casting a grim +satisfied smile at the screen of the faded canvas, he opened +the door of the <i>sala</i> and went in.</p> +<p>Valencia was kneeling beside Doña Jocasta and forcing +brandy between the white lips, while Elena bustled +around the padre whose head she had been bathing. A +basin of water, ruby red, was evidence of the fact that +Padre Andreas was not in immediate need of the services +of a leech. He sat with his bandaged head held in +his hands, and shrank perceptibly when the general entered +the room.</p> +<p>Doña Jocasta swallowed some of the brandy, half +strangled over it, and sat up, gasping and white. It was +Tula who offered her a cup of water, while Valencia, with +fervent expressions of gratitude to the saints, got to her +feet, eyeing Rotil with a look of fear. After the wounded +priest and the fainting Jocasta emerged from the chapel +door, the two women were filled with terror of the controlling +spirit there.</p> +<p>He halted on the threshold, his eyes roving from face +to face, including Tula, who stood, back against the wall, +regarding him as usual with much admiration. One +thing more he must know.</p> +<p>“Go you without,” he said with a gesture towards the +two women and the priest. “I will speak with this lady +alone.”</p> +<p>They all moved to the door, and after a moment of +hesitation Tula was about to follow when he stopped +her.</p> +<p>“You stay, girl. The Doña Jocasta may want a maid, +but take yourself over there.”</p> +<p>So Tula slipped silently back into the niche of the window +seat where the shadows were deepest, and Rotil +moved towards the center table dragging a chair. On the +other side of the table was the couch on which Jocasta +sat, white and startled at the dismissal of the woman and +priest.</p> +<p>“Be composed,” he said gentling his tone as one would +to soothe a child. “There are some things to be said between +us here, and too many ears are of no advantage.”</p> +<p>She did not reply; only inclined her head slightly and +drew herself upright against the wall, gathering the lace +<i>rebosa</i> across her bosom where Valencia had unfastened +her garments and forgotten them in her fear.</p> +<p>“First is the matter of my debt to you. Do you know +in your own mind how great that is?”</p> +<p>“I––count it as nothing, señor,” she murmured.</p> +<p>“That is because you do not know the great need, and +have not made count of the cases of rifles and ammunition.”</p> +<p>“It is true, I never looked at them. Juan Gonsalvo +in dying blamed José Perez for the shot. It was fired +by another hand,––but God alone knows! So Juan sent +for me, and José never knew. The secret of Soledad was +given to me then, but I never thought to use it, until–––”</p> +<p>She ceased, shuddering, and he knew she was thinking +of the blood-stained priest whirled into her presence. +Fallen though the state of the priesthood might be in +Mexico, there were yet women of Jocasta’s training to +whom an assault on the clergy was little less than a mortal +sin. He knew that, and smiled grimly at the remembrance +of her own priestly father who had refused her +in honest marriage to a man of her mother’s class, and +was busily engaged haggling over the gift price of her +with José Perez when death caught him. The bewildered +girl was swept to the estate of Perez without either marriage +or gift, unless one choose to consider as gift the +shelter and food given to a younger sister and brother.</p> +<p>All this went through his mind as she shrank and +sighed because he had tossed a priest from his way with +as slight regard as he would the poorest peon. She did +not even know how surely the destiny of her mother and +her own destiny had been formed by a priest’s craft. She +would never know, because her mind would refuse to +accept it. There were thousands like her because of their +shadowed inheritance. Revolution for the men grew +out of that bondage of women, and Rotil had isolated +moments when he dreamed of a vast and blessed freedom +of the land––schools, and schools, and more schools +until knowledge would belong to the people instead of to +the priests!</p> +<p>But he knew it was no use to tell thoughts like that to +women; they were afraid to let go their little wooden +saints and the jargon of prayers they did not understand. +The mystery of it held them!</p> +<p>Thus brooded Rotil, unlearned driver of burros and +general of an army of the people!</p> +<p>“We will forget all but the ammunition,” he said. +“It is as food to my men, and some of them are starving +there to the east; with ammunition food can be commandeered. +I knew the guns were on Soledad land, but +even a golden dream of angels would not have let me +hope for as much as you have given me. It is packed,––that +room, from floor to roof tiles. In the morning I take +the trail, and there is much to be done before I go. You;––I +must think of first. Will you let me be your confessor, +and tell me any wish of your heart I may help you +to?”</p> +<p>“My heart has no wish left alive in it,” she said. +“There have been days when I had wish for the hut +under the palms where my mother lived. A childish +wish,––but other wishes are dead!”</p> +<p>“There is no going back,” he said, staring at the tiles, +and not looking at her. “It is of future things we must +think. He said things––Perez did, and you–––”</p> +<p>“Yes!” she half whispered. “There is no way but to +tell of it, but––I would ask that the child wait outside. +The story is not a story for a girl child, Ramon.”</p> +<p>He motioned to Tula.</p> +<p>“Outside the door, but in call,” he said, and without +a word or look Tula went softly out.</p> +<p>There was silence for a bit between them, her hands +were clasped at full length, and she leaned forward painfully +tense, looking not at him, but past him.</p> +<p>“It is not easy, but you will comprehend better than +many,” she said at last. “There were three of us. +There was my little brother Palemon, who ran away last +year to be a soldier––he was only fourteen. José would +not let me send searchers for him, and he may be dead. +Then there was only––only Lucita and me. You maybe +remember Lucita?”</p> +<p>Her question was wistful as if it would help her to +even know he remembered. He nodded his head in affirmation.</p> +<p>“A golden child,” he said. “I have seen pictured +saints and angels in great churches since the days in +the hills, but never once so fair a child as little Lucita.”</p> +<p>“Yes, white and gold, and an angel of innocence,” she +said musingly. “Always she was that, always! And +there was a sweetheart, Mariano Avila, a good lad, and +the wedding was to be. She was embroidering the wedding +shirt for Mariano when––God! God!”</p> +<p>She got up suddenly and paced the floor, her arms hugging +her shoulders tight as if to keep from sobbing. He +rose and stood watching, but uttered no word.</p> +<p>After a little she returned to the couch, and began to +speak in a more even tone.</p> +<p>“There is so much to tell. Much happened. Conrad +was driving José to do many things not at first in their +plans. Also there was more drinking,––much more! It +was Conrad made plans for the slave raids. He no +longer asked José’s permission for anything; he gave +command to the men and José had to listen. Only one +secret thing was yet hidden from him, the hiding place +of the guns from the north. José said if that was uncovered +he might as well give up his ranchos. In his heart +he could not trust Conrad. Each had a watch set on +the other! Juan got his death because he made rendezvous +with the German.</p> +<p>“That is how it was when the slave raid was made +north of here, and the most beautiful Indian girl killed +herself somewhere in this desert when there was no +other way to escape the man;––the scar on the face +of Conrad was from her knife. It was a bad cut, and +after that there was trouble, and much drink and mad +quarrels. Also it was that time Juan Gonsalvo was shot +and died from it. Juana, his sister, came in secret for +me while he could yet speak, and that was when–––”</p> +<p>She halted, closing her eyes as if to shut out some horror. +He thought she shrank from remembrance of how +the secret of Soledad was given to her, for Juan must +have been practically a dead man when he gave it up. +After a moment she went on in the sad tone of the utterly +hopeless.</p> +<p>“I speak of the mad quarrels of those two men, Ramon, +but it was never of that I had fear. The fear came each +time the quarrel was done, and they again swore to be +friends, for in the new ‘friend hours’ of drinking, strange +things happened, strange wagers and strange gifts.”</p> +<p>Again she paused, and this time she lifted her eyes to +Rotil.</p> +<p>“Always I hated the German. I never carried a blade +until after his eyes followed me! He tried to play the +prince, the great gentleman, with me––a girl of the hills! +Only once he touched my hand, and I scoured it with sand +afterwards while José laughed. But the German did +not laugh,––he only watched me! Once when José was +in a rage with me Conrad said he could make of me a +great lady in his own land if I would listen. Instead of +listening I showed him my knife. After that God only +knows what he told against me, but José became bitter––bitter, +and jealous, and spies always at my back!</p> +<p>“So Lucita and Mariano and I made plans. They +were to marry, and we three would steal away in secret +and cross the border. That was happiness to plan, for +my life––my life was hell, so I thought! But I had +not yet learned what hell could be,” she confessed +drearily.</p> +<p>“Tell me,” he said very gently. Those who thought +they knew “El Gavilan,” the merciless, would not have +recognized his voice at that moment.</p> +<p>“No, I had not learned,” she went on drearily. “I +thought that to carry a knife for myself made all safe––I +did not know! I told you Juana Gonsalvo came for +me very secretly to hear the last words of Juan. But +I did not tell you we lived in the <i>casita</i>, little Lucita +and I. It is across a garden from the hacienda, and was +once a priest’s house; that was in the days of the mother +of José. It is very sweet there under the rose vines, +and it was sanctuary for us. When José and the German +had their nights of carouse we went there and locked +ourselves in. There were iron bars on the high windows, +and shutters of wood inside, so we were never +afraid. I heard Conrad tell José he was a fool not to +blow it up with dynamite some day of fiesta. It was +the night after their great quarrel, and it was a terrible +time. They were pledging friendship once more in much +wine. Officers from the town were at the hacienda with +women who were––well, I would not go in, and José +was wild. He came to the <i>casita</i> and called threats at +me. I thought the German was with him, for he said +Conrad was right, and the house would be blown up +with the first dynamite he could spare,––but threats were +no new thing to us! I tried to soothe little Lucita by +talk of the wedding, and all the pretty bride things were +taken out of the chest and spread on the bed; one +<i>rebosa</i> of white I put over her shoulders, and the child +was dancing to show me she was no longer afraid–––!</p> +<p>“That was when Juana came to the window. I knew +her voice and opened the door. I did not want Lucita +frightened again, so I did not let her know a man was +dying––only that a sick person wanted me for a little––little +minute, and I would be back.</p> +<p>“I knew Juan Gonsalvo had been killed because he +had been trusted far enough,––I knew it! That thought +struck me very hard, for I––I might be the next, and +I wanted first to send those two children happily out of +reach of sorrow. Strange it is that because she was +first, the very first in my heart, I went out that door +in the night and for the first time left her alone! But +that is how it was; we had to be so quick––and so silent––and +it was her hand closed the door after us, her hand +on the bolt!</p> +<p>“Juan Gonsalvo had only fought for life until he could +see me, and then the breath went. No one but I heard +his whispers of the door of the picture here in Soledad. +He told me his death was murder, and his last word was +against Perez. It was only minutes, little minutes I was +there, and the way was not far, but when I went back +through the garden the door of the <i>casita</i> stood wide +and light streamed out! I do not know how I was sure +it was empty, but I was, and I seemed to go dead inside, +though I started to run.</p> +<p>“To cross that garden was like struggling in a dream +with bands about my feet. I wake with that dream many +nights––many!––I heard her before I could reach the +path. Her screams were not in the <i>casita</i>, but in the +hacienda. They were––they were––terrible! I tried +to go––and then I knew she had broken away––I could +see her like a white spirit fly back towards the light in +the open door. The man following her tripped in some +way and fell, and I leaped over him to follow her. We +got inside and drew the bolt.</p> +<p>“Then––But there are things not to be told––they +belong to the dead!</p> +<p>“Perez came there to the door and made demands +for Conrad’s woman,––that is how he said it! He said +she had gone to Conrad’s apartment of her own will and +must go back. Lucita knelt at my feet in her torn bridal +garment and told how a woman had come as Juana had +come, and said that I wanted her. The child had no +doubt, she followed, and––and it was indeed to that +drunken beast they took her!</p> +<p>“José was also drunk, crazy drunk. He told me to +stand away from that door for they were coming in, +also that he had made gift of Lucita to his friend, and +she must be given up. Then they began to fire guns +in the lock! It seemed a long, long time she held to me +there and begged me to save her, but it could not have +been.... The lock gave way, and only the bolt +held. I clasped her close to me and whispered telling her +to pray, but I never took my eyes off the door. When I +saw it shaking, I made the sign of the cross over her, +and the knife I had carried for myself found her heart +quickly! That is how I took on me the shadow of murder, +and that is why the priest threatens me with the +fires of hell if I do not repent––and I am not repenting, +Ramon.”</p> +<p>“By God, no!” he muttered, staring into her defiant +eyes. “That was a fine thing, and your mother gave good +blood to her children, Jocasta. And then–––?”</p> +<p>“I laid her on the bed among her bridal laces, all +white––white! Over her breast I folded her still hands, +and set a candle at her head, though I dared not pray! +The door was giving way.</p> +<p>“I pushed back the bolt, also I spoke, but it did not +seem me! That is strange, but of a truth I did not know +the voice I heard say: ‘Enter, her body is yours––and +she no longer flees from you.’</p> +<p>“‘Ha! That is good sense at last!’ said José, and +Conrad laughed and praised himself as a lover.</p> +<p>“‘I told you so!’ he grunted. ‘The little dear one +knows that a nice white German is not so bad!’</p> +<p>“And again I heard the voice strange to me say, ‘She +knows nothing, José––and she knows all!’</p> +<p>“José stumbled in smiling, but Conrad, though drunk, +stopped at the door when he saw my hand with the knife. +I thought my skirt covered it as I waited for him––for +the child had told me enough––I––I failed, Ramon! +His oath was a curious choked scream as I tried to reach +him. I do not know if it was the knife, or the dead girl +on the bed made him scream like that, but I knew then +the German was at heart a coward.</p> +<p>“José was too strong for me, and the knife could not +do its work. I was struck, and my head muffled in a +<i>serape</i>. After that I knew nothing.</p> +<p>“Days and nights went by in a locked room. I never +got out of it until I was chained hand and foot and +sent north in a peon’s ox-cart. Men guarded me until +Marto with other men waited for me on the trail. José +Perez could have had me killed, yes. Or he could have +had me before the judges for murder, but silence was +the thing he most wanted––for there is Doña Dolores +Terain yet to be won. He has sent me north that the +General Terain, her father, will think me out of his life. +One of the guards told an alcalde I was his wife, he was +sure that story would be repeated back to Hermosillo! +These are days in Sonora when no one troubles about one +woman or one child who is out of sight, and we may be +sure he and Conrad had a well-made story to tell. He +knows it is now all over with me, that I have a hate of +which he is afraid, so he does not have me shot;––he only +sends me to Soledad in the wilderness where fighting bands +of the revolution cross all trails, and his men have orders +that I am not to go out of the desert alive.”</p> +<p>“I see!” said Rotil thoughtfully, “and––it is all gone +now––the love of him?”</p> +<p>“All the love in the world is gone, amigo,” she said, +looking away from him through the barred window +where the night sky was growing bright from the rising +moon. “I was a child enchanted by the glory of the +world and his love words. Out of all that false glitter +of life I have walked, a blackened soul with a murderer’s +hand. How could love be again with me?”</p> +<p>He looked at her steadily, the slender thing of creamy +skin and Madonna eyes that had been the Dream of +Youth to him, the one devotee at an altar in whom he had +believed––nothing in the humanity of the world would +ever have faith of his again!</p> +<p>“That is so, Jocasta,” he said at last, “you are a +woman, and in the shadow. The little golden singing one is +gone out of your life, and the new music must be different! +I will think about that for you. Go now to your sleep, +for there is work of men to be done, and the night scarce +long enough for it.”</p> +<p>He opened the door for her and stood with bent head +as she passed. His men lounging in the patio could see +that manner of deference, and exchanged looks and comments. +To the victor belong the spoils in Mexico, and +here was a sweeping victory,––yet the general looked the +other way!</p> +<p>“Child, accompany the señora,” he said kindly to Tula +at the door. “Chappo, bring Marto to see me. The new +American capitan said he was a man of value, and the +lad was right. Work of importance waits for him tonight.”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XVIII_RAMON_ROTIL_DECIDES' id='CHAPTER_XVIII_RAMON_ROTIL_DECIDES'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> +<h3>RAMON ROTIL DECIDES</h3> +</div> +<p>Whatever the labors of Marto Cavayso for the +night they appeared to have been happy ones, for +ere the dawn he came to Kit’s door in great good humor.</p> +<p>“Amigo,” he said jovially, “you played me a trick and +took the woman, but what the devil is that to hold a +grudge for? My general has made it all right, and we +need help. You are to come.”</p> +<p>“Glad to,” agreed Kit, “but what of this guard duty?”</p> +<p>“Lock the door––there is but one key. Also the other +men are not sleeping inside the portal. It is by order of +General Rotil.”</p> +<p>Perez awoke to glare at his false major-domo, but +uttered no words. He had not even attempted conversation +with Kit since the evening before when he stated +that no Americano could fool him, and added his conviction +that the said Americano was a secret service man +of the states after the guns, and that Rotil was a fool!</p> +<p>Kit found Rotil resting in the chapel, looking fagged +and spent.</p> +<p>“Marto is hell for work, and I had to stay by,” he +grumbled with a grin. “Almost I sent for you. No +other man knows, and behold!”</p> +<p>Stacked on either side were packing cases of rifles and +ammunition, dozens and dozens of them. The dusty +canvas was back in its place and no sign to indicate +where the cases had come from.</p> +<p>“It is a great treasure chest, that,” stated Rotil, “and +we have here as much as the mules can carry, for the +wagons can’t go with us. But I want every case of this +outside the portal before dawn comes, and it comes quick! +It means work and there are only three of us, and this +limp of mine’s a trouble.”</p> +<p>“Well,” said Kit, stripping off his coat, “if the two +of you got them up a ladder inside, and down the steps +to this point I reckon three of us can get them across +that little level on record time. Say, your crew will +think it magic when guns and ammunition are let fall for +you by angels outside of the gate.”</p> +<p>“The thought will do no harm,” said Rotil. “Also +I am not sure but that you speak true, and the magic was +much needed when it came.”</p> +<p>They worked fast, and ere the first hint of dawn the +cases were stacked in imposing array on the plaza. And +no sign by which they could be traced. Rotil looked at +them, and chuckled at the wonder the men would feel.</p> +<p>“It is time they were called, for it is a long trail, go +you, Capitan, and waken them, tell them to get ready +the pack mules and get a move.”</p> +<p>“All right, but if they ask questions?”</p> +<p>“Look wise and say nothing! When they see the cases +they will think you either the devil or San Antonio to +find what was lost in the desert. It is a favor I am doing +you, señor.”</p> +<p>“Sure you are! If the Indians ever get the idea that +I can win guns from out the air by hokus-pokus, I will +be a big medicine chief, and wax fat under honors in +Sonora. Head me to them!”</p> +<p>Rotil had seen to it that though sentinels stood guard +at Soledad, none were near enough the plaza to interfere +with work of the night, and Kit found their main camp +down by the <i>acquia</i> a quarter of a mile away. He gave +orders as directed for the pack animals and cook wagon +over which a son of the Orient presided. That stolid +genius was already slicing deer meat for broiling, and +making coffee, of which he donated a bowl to Kit, also +a cart wheel of a <i>tortilla</i> dipped in gravy. Both were +joyously accepted, and after seeing that the men were +aroused from the blankets, he returned to the hacienda +full of conjecture as to the developments to be anticipated +from the night’s work. That reserve stock of ammunition +might mean salvation to the revolutionists.</p> +<p>Rain had fallen somewhere to the east in the night +time, and as the stars faded there were lines of palest +silver and palest gold in the grays of dawn on the mountains. +As he walked leisurely up the slight natural terrace +to the plaza, he halted a moment and laughed aloud +boyishly at a discovery of his, for he had solved the century-old +riddle of the view of El Alisal seen from the +“portal” of Soledad. The portal was not anyone of +the visible doors or gateways of the old mission, it was +the hidden portal of the picture,––once leading to a little +balcony under which the neophytes had gathered for the +morning blessing and daily commands of their superiors!</p> +<p>That explained its height from the floor. The door had +at some later period been sealed, and a room built against +it from the side towards the mountain. In the building +of the ranch house that old strong walled section of the +mission had been incorporated as the private chapel of +some pious ranchero. It was also very, very simple after +one knew of that high portal masked by the picture, and +after one traced the line of vision from the outside and +realized all that was hidden by the old harness room and +the fragmentary old walls about it. He chuckled to think +of how he would astonish Cap Pike with the story when +he got back. He also recalled that Conrad had unburdened +his heart to him with completeness because he +was so confident an American never <i>could</i> get back!</p> +<p>He was speculating on that ever-present problem when +he noted that light shone yellow in the dawn from the +plaza windows, and on entering the patio it took but a +glance to see that some new thing was afoot.</p> +<p>Padre Andreas, with his head upholstered in strips of +the table linen, was pacing the patio reciting in a murmuring +undertone, some prayer from a small open volume, +though there was not yet light enough to read. +Valencia was bustling into the room of Doña Jocasta with +an olla of warm water, while Tula bore a copper tray +with fruit and coffee.</p> +<p>“This is of a quickness, but who dare say it is not +an act for the blessing of God?” the padre said replying +in an absent-minded manner to the greeting of Kit.</p> +<p>“True, Padre, who can say?” agreed the latter politely, +without the slightest idea of what was meant.</p> +<p>But Marto, who fairly radiated happiness since his reinstatement, +approached with the word that General Rotil +would have him at breakfast, for which time was short.</p> +<p>“It is my regret that you do not ride with me, señor,” +said Rotil as he motioned him to a seat. “But there is +work to be done at Soledad for which I shall give you +the word. I am hearing that you would help recover +some of the poor ones driven south from Palomitas, if +they be left alive!”</p> +<p>“I am pledged to that, General,” stated Kit simply.</p> +<p>“Who has your pledge?”</p> +<p>“A dead man who cannot free me from it.”</p> +<p>“By God!” remarked Rotil in a surprised tone. “By +God, Don Pajarito, that is good! And it may be when +that pledge is kept, you may be free to join my children +in the fight? I make you a capitan at once, señor.”</p> +<p>“Perhaps, after–––”</p> +<p>“Sure,––after,” agreed Rotil chuckling. “For I tell +you there is work of importance here, and when I am +gone the thinking will be up to you! What message did +you give the muleteers?”</p> +<p>“To bring the animals to the plaza, and pack for the +trail all the provisions found there.”</p> +<p>“Provisions is good! They will burn with curiosity. +There could be fun in that if we had time to laugh and +watch them, but there is no time. Marto!”</p> +<p>Marto, on guard at the door, came forward.</p> +<p>“Has the Señor Don José Perez received my message +for conference?”</p> +<p>“Yes, my General. Except that he wished your messenger +in hell, he will be happy to join you according to +order.”</p> +<p>“Good!” grinned Rotil, “it is well to conduct these +matters with grace and ceremony where a lady is concerned. +Take him to the <i>sala</i>; it is illuminated in his +honor. Come, señor, I want for witness an Americano +who is free from Sonora influence.”</p> +<p>“Am I?” queried Kit dubiously. “I’m not so sure! +I seem all tangled up with Sonora influences of all shades +and varieties.”</p> +<p>Rotil’s jocularity disappeared as he entered the sala +where quill pen and ink and some blank sheets from an +old account book gave a business-like look to the table +where four candles made a radiance.</p> +<p>Perez was there, plainly nervous by reason of the +mocking civility of Marto. His eyes followed Rotil,––questioning, +fearful!</p> +<p>The latter passed him without notice and seated himself +at the table.</p> +<p>“Call the padre,” he said to Marto. But that was +scarce needed as the padre was hovering near the door +waiting for the word. He seated himself by the table +at a motion from Rotil.</p> +<p>The latter turned for the first time to Perez, and bestowed +on him a long, curious look.</p> +<p>“They tell me, señor, that you were about to take as +bride a lovely lady?”</p> +<p>Perez frowned in perplexity. Evidently this was the +last subject he had expected to hear touched upon.</p> +<p>“Perhaps so,” he said at last, “but if this is a question +of ransom we will not trouble the lady. I will arrange +your figures for that.”</p> +<p>“This is not a matter of figures, Señor Perez. It is +a marriage we are interested in, and it is all well arranged +for you. The padre here will draw up the contract +of marriage in the old form; it is better than the +manner of today. You will give him your name, the +names of your parents, the name of your parish and +abode.”</p> +<p>“I will see you damned first!”</p> +<p>“And, Padre,” continued Rotil, giving no heed to that +heartfelt remark, “use less than one-third of the page, +for there must be space for the record of the bride, and +below that the contract between the happy two with all +witnesses added.”</p> +<p>“If you think––” began Perez furiously.</p> +<p>“I do not think; I know, señor! Later you also will +know,” Rotil promised with grim certainty. “This marriage +is of interest to me, and has been too long delayed. +It is now for you to say if you will be a bridegroom in +chains, or if it please you to have the irons off.”</p> +<p>“This cannot be! I tell you a marriage is not legal +if–––”</p> +<p>“Oh, señor! Your experience is less than I thought,” +interrupted Rotil, “and you are much mistaken,––much! +We are all witnesses here. Señor Rhodes will be pleased +to unfasten those heavy chains to oblige the lady. The +chains might not be a pleasant memory to her. Women +have curious prejudices about such things! But it must +be understood that you stand quiet for the ceremony. +If not, this gun of mine will manage it that you stay +quiet forever.”</p> +<p>Perez stood up, baffled and beaten, but threatening.</p> +<p>“Take them off, you!” he snarled, “though it is a +hell of a ransom,––and that woman will pay. Let no +one forget that her pay will be heavy!”</p> +<p>“That paying is for afterwards!” decided Rotil airily, +“but here and now we men would see a wedding before +we leave Soledad. Capitan Rhodes, will you bring in +Doña Jocasta?”</p> +<p>Kit, in some wonder, went on the errand, and found +the women eager to deck her with blossoms and give some +joyous note to the wedding of the dawn, but she sat cold +and white with the flowers of the desert springtime about +her, and forbade them.</p> +<p>“He terrifies me much in sending that word to wake +me with this morning,” she protested. “I tell you I will +kill myself before I live one more day of life with José +Perez! I told him all my heart in the <i>sala</i> last night, and +it means not anything to Ramon Rotil;––he would tie me +in slavery to that man I hate!”</p> +<p>“Señora, I do not know what the general means, but +I know it is not that. His work is for your service, even +though appearance is otherwise.”</p> +<p>“You think that?”</p> +<p>“I almost know it.”</p> +<p>“Then I go,” she decided. “I think I would have to +go anyway, but the heart would be more heavy, <i>Santa +Maria</i>!––but this place of Soledad is strange in its ways.”</p> +<p>It was the first time he had seen her frightened, but her +mouth trembled, and her eyes sought the floor.</p> +<p>He reached out and took her hand; it was terribly +cold.</p> +<p>“Courage, and trust Rotil,” he said reassuringly. +“When you sift out the whole situation that is about all +left to any of us here in the desert.”</p> +<p>He led her along the corridor, the women following. +Men with pack animals were gathering in wonder around +the cases in the plaza, and through the portal they saw +the impromptu bridal procession, and fell silent. The +Americano appeared to have a hand in every game,––and +that was a matter of wonder.</p> +<p>As they entered, Padre Andreas was reading aloud the +brief history of Jocasta Benicia Sandoval, eldest daughter +of Teresa Sandoval and Ignatius Sanchez of Santa +Ysobel in the Sierras. Padre Andreas had balked at +writing the paternity of children of Teresa Sandoval, but +a revolver in Rotil’s hand was the final persuader.</p> +<p>“This is to be all an honest record for which there are +witnesses in plenty,” he stated. “Teresa Sandoval had +only one lover,––even though Padre Ignatius Sanchez +did call her daughters nieces of his! But the marriage +record of Señora Jocasta Sandoval shall have only +truth.” Jocasta wrote her name to the statement +as directed, and noted that José had already +signed.</p> +<p>She did not look at him, but moved nearer to Rotil and +kept her eyes on the table. He noted her shrinking and +turned to the priest.</p> +<p>“Señor,” he said, “these two people will write their +names together on the contract, but this is a marriage +without kisses or clasping of hands. It is a civil contract +bound by word of mouth, and written promise, under +witness of the church. Read the service.”</p> +<p>There was a slight hesitation on the part of Perez when +asked if he would take Jocasta Sandoval as wife, but the +gun of Rotil hastened his decision, and his voice was defiantly +loud. Jocasta followed quietly, and then in a +benediction which was emptiest mockery, José Perez and +Jocasta Sandoval were pronounced man and wife.</p> +<p>“May I now go?” she murmured, but the contract was +signed by all present before Rotil nodded to Kit.</p> +<p>“You will have the honor of conducting the Doña +Jocasta Perez to breakfast,” he said. “The rest of us +have other business here. Señora, will you do us the +favor to outline to this gentleman the special tasks you +would like attention given at once. There are some Indian +slaves in the south for whom the Palomitas people +ask help. You are now in a position to be of service there, +and it would be a good act with which to establish a new +rule at Soledad.”</p> +<p>“Thanks, General Rotil,” she answered, rather bewildered +by the swiftness with which he turned over to +her the duties devolving upon her newly acquired position. +“I am not wise in law, but what I can I will do.”</p> +<p>“And that will be nothing!” volunteered Perez. “A +woman of my name will not make herself common in the +markets or law courts,––to have her Indian ancestry cast +in my teeth!”</p> +<p>“As to that,” said Rotil humorously, “there is not so +much! The father of Teresa Sandoval was the priestly +son of a marquise of Spain! only one drop of Indian to +three of the church in the veins of Señora Perez, so you +perceive she has done honor to your house. You will +leave your name in good hands when God calls you to +judgment.”</p> +<p>Kit noted the sudden tension of Perez at the last sentence, +and a look of furtive, fearful questioning in his +eyes as he looked at Rotil, who was folding the marriage +contract carefully, wrapping it in a sheet of paper for +lack of an envelope.</p> +<p>But, as squire of dames, Kit was too much occupied +to give further heed to business in the <i>sala</i>. Doña +Jocasta expressed silently a desire to get away from there +as soon as might be; she looked white and worn, and cast +at Rotil a frightened imploring glance as she clung to +Kit’s arm. He thought he would have to carry her +before they crossed the patio.</p> +<p>“When Ramon laughs like that––” she began and +then went silent, shuddering. Kit, remembering the look +in the eyes of Perez, did not care to ask questions.</p> +<p>The older women went back to the kitchen to finish +breakfast and gossip over the amazing morning, but Tula +remained near Doña Jocasta,––seeing all and her ears +ever open.</p> +<p>Padre Andreas followed, under orders from Rotil, who +told him to do any writing required of him by the Señora +Perez, and arrange for safe couriers south when she +had messages ready. His knowledge of villages and +rancheros was more dependable than that of the vaqueros; +he would know the names of safe men.</p> +<p>Doña Jocasta sighed, and looked from one to the other +appealingly.</p> +<p>“It is much, very much to plan for before the sun +is showing,” she murmured. “Is there not some little +time to think and consider?”</p> +<p>“Even now the men of Ramon Rotil are packing the +beasts for the trail,” said the priest, “and he wants all +your plans and desires stated before he goes east.”</p> +<p>“<i>My</i> desires!” and her smile held bitterness as she +turned to Kit. “You, señor, have never seen the extent +of the Perez holdings in Sonora. They are so vast that +one simple woman like me would be lost in any plans of +change there. José Perez meant what he said;––no +woman can take control while he lives.”</p> +<p>“Still, there are some things a woman could do best,” +ventured Kit, “the things of mercy;” and he mentioned +the Palomitas slaves–––</p> +<p>“That is true. Also I am in debt for much friendship, +and this child of Palomitas must have the thing she asks. +Tell me the best way.”</p> +<p>“Learn from Perez which ranch of General Estaban +Terain shelters the political prisoners taken from the district +of Altar,” suggested Kit. “Either Perez or Conrad +can tell.”</p> +<p>Doña Jocasta looked at the priest.</p> +<p>“José Perez will hate you for this marriage, and we +must seek safety for you in some other place,” she said +kindly, “but you are the one most able to learn this +thing. Will it please you to try?”</p> +<p>Padre Andreas went out without a word. In his heart +he resented the manner of the marriage ceremony, and +scarce hoped Perez would be acquiescent or disposed to +further converse, and he personally had no inclination +to ask help of the General Rotil.</p> +<p>He was surprised as he crossed the patio to see Perez, +still free from chains, walking through the portal to the +plaza with Marto Cavayso beside him. He was led past +the ammunition cases, and the men in their jubilant work +of packing the mules. Far out up the valley to the north +a cloud of dust caught the red glow of sunrise, and the +priest knew the vaqueros with the Soledad cattle were +already on the trail for the main body of revolutionists +in the field.</p> +<p>Saddle horses were held a little apart in the plaza, and +Padre Andreas hastened his steps lest they mount and be +gone, but Marto spoke to him sharply.</p> +<p>“Walk in front to do your talking,” he suggested. +“This gentleman is not inviting company for his +<i>pasear</i>.”</p> +<p>José Perez turned a startled, piercing look on the priest.</p> +<p>“Did Rotil send you?” he demanded.</p> +<p>“No, señor, I came back to ask a simple thing concerning +the Altar people who went south for Yucatan. +Can you give me the name of the ranch where they are +held?”</p> +<p>“I can,––but I give nothing for nothing!” he said bitterly. +“Already I am caught in a trap by that marriage, +and I will see that the archbishop hears of your share +in it. Nothing for nothing!”</p> +<p>“Yet there may be some service I can give, or send +south, for you,” said the priest.</p> +<p>Perez regarded him doubtfully.</p> +<p>“Yes––you might get a message to General Terain +that I am a prisoner, on my own estate––if Rotil does +not have you killed on the road!”</p> +<p>“I could try,” agreed the priest. “I––I might secure +permission.”</p> +<p>“Permission?”</p> +<p>“It is true, señor. I could not attempt it without the +word of General Rotil,” announced Padre Andreas. “Of +what use to risk the life of a courier for no purpose? But +I make a bargain: if you will tell which ranch the Altar +Indians were driven to I will undertake to get word for +you to a friend. Of course I can get the information from +the German if you say no.”</p> +<p>“Damn the German!” swore Perez.</p> +<p>“Good Father,” said Marto, “you halt us on the way to +join the advance, and we have no mind to take all the dust +of the mule train. Make your talk of fewer words.”</p> +<p>“Shall I go to the German?” repeated the priest.</p> +<p>“No,––let him rot alone! The plantation is Linda +Vista, and Conrad lied to General Terain to get them +housed there. He thought they were rebels who raided +ranches in Altar,––political prisoners. Take General +Terain word that I am a prisoner of the revolutionists, +and–––”</p> +<p>“Señor, the sun is too high for idle talk,” said Marto +briefly, “and your saddle waits.”</p> +<p>The priest held the stirrup for José Perez, who took +the courtesy as a matter of course, turning in the saddle +and casting a bitter look at the sun-flooded walls of +Soledad.</p> +<p>“To marry a mistress and set her up as the love of +another lover––<i>two</i> other lovers!––is not the game of +a man,” he growled moodily. “If it was to do over, +I–––”</p> +<p>“Take other thoughts with you,” said Padre Andreas +sadly, “and my son, go with God!”</p> +<p>He lifted his hand in blessing, and stood thus after +they had turned away. Perez uttered neither thanks nor +farewell.</p> +<p>The men, busy with the final packing, stared after him +with much curiosity, and accosted the priest as he paced +thoughtfully back to the portal.</p> +<p>“Padre, is this ammunition a gift of Don José, or is +it magic from the old monks who hid the red gold of +El Alisal and come back here to guard it and haunt Soledad?” +inquired one of the boldest.</p> +<p>“There are no hauntings, and that red gold has led +enough men astray in the desert. It is best forgotten.”</p> +<p>“But strange things do come about,” insisted another +man. “Marto Cavayso swore he had witchcraft put on +him by the green, jewel eyes of Doña Jocasta, and you +see that since she follows our general he has the good luck, +and this ammunition comes to him from God knows +where!”</p> +<p>“It may be the Americano knows,” hazarded the first +speaker. “He took her from Marto, and rides ever beside +her. Who proves which is the enchanter?”</p> +<p>“It is ill work to put the name of ‘enchantment’ +against any mortal,” chided the priest.</p> +<p>“That may be,” conceded the soldier, “but we have +had speech of this thing, and look you!––Doña Jocasta +rode in chains until the Americano crossed her trail, and +Don Ramon, and all of us, searched in vain for the +American guns, until the Americano rode to Soledad! +Enchantment or not, he has luck for his friends!”</p> +<p>“As you please!” conceded the priest with more indifference +than he felt. The Americano certainly did not +belong to Soledad, and the wonder was that Ramon Rotil +gave him charge of so beauteous a lady. Padre Andreas +could easily perceive how the followers of Rotil thought +it enchantment, or any other thing of the devil.</p> +<p>Instinctively he disapproved of Rhodes’ position in +the group; his care-free, happy smile ill fitted the situation +at Soledad. Before the stealing away of Doña Jocasta +she had been as a dead woman who walked; her sense +of overwhelming sin was gratifying in that it gave every +hope of leading to repentance, but on her return the +manner of her behavior was different. She rode like +a queen, and even the marriage was accepted as a justice! +Padre Andreas secretly credited the heretic Americano +with the change, and Mexican girls put no such +dependence on a man outside of her own family,––unless +that man was a lover!</p> +<p>He saw his own influence set aside by the stranger and +the rebel leader, and with Doña Jocasta as a firebrand +he feared dread and awful things now that Rotil had +given her power.</p> +<p>He found her with bright eyes and a faint flush in +her cheeks over the letter Kit was writing to the south. +It was her first act as the wife of José Perez, and it +was being written to the girl whom Perez had hoped +to marry!</p> +<p>Kit got considerable joy in framing her request as +follows:</p> +<blockquote> +<p class='lalign'>To<br /> +<span class='indent2'> </span>Señorita Dolores Terain,<br /> +<span class='indent4'> </span>Linda Vista Rancho, Sonora,</p> +<p><span class='smcap'>Honored Señorita</span>:</p> +<p>As a woman who desires to secure justice and mercy for +some poor peons of our district of Altar, I venture to address +you, to whom womanly compassion must belong as +does beauty and graciousness.</p> +<p>This is a work for the charity of women, rather than +debates in law courts by men.</p> +<p>I send with this the names of those poor people who were +herded south for slavery by Adolf Conrad, a German who +calls himself American. To your father, the illustrious General +Terain, this man Conrad represented these poor people +as rebels and raiders of this region. It is not true. They +were simple peaceful workers on little ranches.</p> +<p>They were given shelter at your rancho of Linda Vista +to work for their food until they could be deported, but I +send with this a payment of gold with which to repay any +care they have been, or any debts incurred. If it is not +enough, I pledge myself to the amount you will regard as +justice.</p> +<p>Dear Señorita, my husband, Don José, warns me that +women cannot manage such affairs, but we can at least try. +Parents wait here for sons and daughters, and little children +wait for their parents. Will you aid in the Christian task +of bringing them together quickly?</p> +<p class='ralign'>At your service with all respect,<span class='rindent8'> </span><br /> +<span class='smcap'>Jocasta Benicia Perez</span>,<span class='rindent6'> </span><br /> +Soledad Rancho, Sonora.<span class='rindent2'> </span></p> +</blockquote> +<p>“But you write here of gold sent by messenger, señor!––I +have no gold, only words can I send,” protested +Doña Jocasta helplessly.</p> +<p>“Ah, but the words are more precious than all,” Kit +assured her. “It is the right word we have waited for, +and you alone could give it, señora. These people have +held the gold ransom while waiting that word, and this +child can bring it when the time is right.”</p> +<p>Doña Jocasta regarded Tula doubtfully; she certainly +gave no appearance of holding wealth to redeem a pueblo.</p> +<p>“You,––the little one to whom even the Deliverer +listens?” she said kindly. “But the wealth of a little +Indian ranch would not seem riches to this illustrious +lady, the Doña Dolores Terain.”</p> +<p>“Yet will I bring riches to her or to you, Excellencia, +if only my mother and my sister are coming again to +Palomitas,” said Tula earnestly.</p> +<p>“But whence comes wealth to you in a land where +there is no longer wealth for anyone?”</p> +<p>Kit listened with little liking for the conversation after +the padre entered. It was a direct question, and to be +answered with directness, and he watched Tula anxiously +lest she say the wrong thing. But she told the straight +truth in a way to admit of no question.</p> +<p>“Long ago my father got gold for sacred prayer reasons; +he hid it until he was old; when he died he made +gift of it to me that my mother and sister buy freedom. +That is all, Excellencia, but the gold is good gold.”</p> +<p>She slipped her hand under her skirt and unfastened +the leather strings of the burro-skin belt,––it fell heavily +on the tile floor. She untied the end of it and poured a +handful on the table.</p> +<p>“You see, señora, there is riches enough to go with +your words, but never enough to pay for them.”</p> +<p>“<i>Santa Maria!</i>” cried the amazed priest. “That is +<i>red</i> gold! In what place was it found?”</p> +<p>Tula laid her hand over the nuggets and faced him.</p> +<p>“That secret was the secret of Miguel who is dead.”</p> +<p>“But––some old Indian must know–––”</p> +<p>Tula shook her head with absolute finality.</p> +<p>“No old Indian in all the world knows that!” she said. +“This was a secret of the youth of Miguel, and only +when old and dying did he give it for his people. This I,––Tula, +child of Miguel tell you.”</p> +<p>Padre Andreas looked from the girl to Kit and back +again, knowing that the death of Miguel was a recent +thing since it had occurred after the stealing of the +women.</p> +<p>“Where did your father die?” he asked.</p> +<p>“In the hills of the desert.”</p> +<p>“And––who had absolving and burial of him?”</p> +<p>“Absolving I do not know, but this man, his friend, +had the making of the grave,” she said, indicating Kit, +and the eyes of the priest rested again on Kit with a +most curious searching regard. Evidently even this little +Indian stray of the desert arrived at good fortune under +the friendship of the American stranger,––and it was another +added to the list of enchantings!</p> +<p>“Ah,” he murmured meaningly, “then this strange +señor also has the knowing of this Indian gold? Is it +truly gold of the earth, or witches’ gold of red clay?” +and he went nearer, reaching his hand to touch it.</p> +<p>“Why all this question when the child offers it for a +good Christian use?” demanded Doña Jocasta. “See, +here is a piece of it heavy enough to weigh down many +lumps of clay, and north or south it will prove welcome +ransom. It is a miracle sent by the saints at this time.”</p> +<p>“Would the saints send the red gold of El Alisal to a +heretic instead of a son of the church?” he asked. “And +this is that gold for which the padres of Soledad paid +with their lives long ago. There was never such red gold +found in Sonora as that, and the church had its own claim +on it;––it is mission gold!”</p> +<p>“No, not now,” said Tula, addressing Doña Jocasta,––“truly +not now! They claimed it long ago, but the +holding of it was a thing not for them. Fire came out of +the clouds to kill them there, and no one saw them alive +anymore, and no other priest ever found the gold. This +much is found by Miguel, for a dead man’s promise!”</p> +<p>“The girl speaks straight, señora,” ventured Kit. “I +have already told General Rotil of the promise, but no +good will come of much talk over the quality of gold for +that ransom. To carry that message south and bring +back the women is a task for council, but outside these +walls, no tongue must speak of the gold, else there would +be no safety for this maid.”</p> +<p>“Yet a priest may ask how an Americano comes far +from his home to guard gold and a maid in Sonora?” +retorted Padre Andreas. “Strange affairs move these +days in Altar––guns, ammunition, and the gold of dead +men! In all these things you have a say, señor, yet you +are but young in years, and–––”</p> +<p>“Padre,” interrupted Doña Jocasta with a note of command, +“he was old enough to save this child from starvation +in the desert, and he was old enough to save me when +even you could no longer save me, so why object because +he has guarded wealth, and means to use it in a way +of mercy? Heretic he may be, but he has the trust of +Ramon Rotil, and of me. Also it is forbidden to mention +this belt or what it covers. I have given my word, +and this is no time to halt the task we have set. It would +better serve those lost people if you help us find a messenger +who is safe.”</p> +<p>It was the first time the new Señora Perez assumed a +tone of authority at Soledad, and Kit Rhodes thanked his +lucky stars that she was arrayed with him instead of +against him, for her eyes glowed green lightning on the +priest whose curiosity had gotten him into trouble. Kit +could not really blame him, for there was neither priest +nor peon of the land who had not had visions of conquest +if only the red gold of the Alisal should be conveniently +stumbled upon!</p> +<p>And Tula listened to the words of Doña Jocasta as she +would have listened to a god.</p> +<p>“I go,” she said eagerly. “The trail it is strange to +me, but I will find that way. I think I find in the dark +that trail on which the mother of me was going!”</p> +<p>Doña Jocasta patted the hand of the girl, but looked +at Kit. “That trail is not for a maid,” she said meaningly. +“I came over it, and know.”</p> +<p>“I think it is for me,” he answered. “The promise +was mine. I know none of the people, but the names are +written. It is eighty miles.”</p> +<p>“Three days.”</p> +<p>“More, double that,” he said thoughtfully, and the eyes +of Tula met his in disapproval. It was the merest hint of +a frown, but it served. She could do the errand better +than she could guard the rest of the gold. If her little +belt was lost it was little, but if his store should be found +it would be enough to start a new revolution in Sonora;––the +men of Rotil and the suspicious padre would unite +on the treasure trail. It was the padre who gave him +most uneasiness, because the padre was guessing correctly! +The dream of a mighty church of the desert to +commemorate all the ruined missions of the wilderness, +was a great dream for the priest of a little pueblo, and +the eyes of the Padre Andreas were alight with keen,––too +keen, anticipation.</p> +<p>“I go,” stated Tula again. “No other one is knowing +my people.”</p> +<p>“That is a true word,” decided Padre Andreas, “a +major-domo of evil mind at Linda Vista could take the +gold and send north whatever unruly vagabonds he had +wished to be free from. Let the maid go, and I can +arrange to see her there safe.”</p> +<p>This kind offer did not receive the approval deserved. +Kit wished no man on the trail with Tula who knew of +the gold, and Tula herself was not eager to journey into +unknown regions with a man of religion, who had already +learned from Valencia of the elaborate ceremony planned +for a “Judas day!” Little though Tula knew of churchly +observances, she had an instinctive fear that she would +be detained in the south too long to officiate in this special +ceremony on which she had set her heart.</p> +<p>“Not with a priest will I go,” she announced. “He +would shut me in a school, and in that place I would +die. Clodomiro can go, or Isidro, who is so good and +knowing all our people.”</p> +<p>“That is a good thought,” agreed Doña Jocasta, who +had no desire that Padre Andreas meet the family of +Terain and recount details of the Perez marriage,––not +at least until she had worn her official title a little longer +and tested the authority it gave her. “That is a good +thought, for I have no wish that my house be left without +a priest. Señor Rhodes, which man is best?”</p> +<p>But before Kit could answer Ramon Rotil stood in +the door, and his eyes went to the papers on the table. +Tula had recovered her belt, and fastened it under the +<i>manta</i> she wore.</p> +<p>“So! you are working in council, eh?” he asked. “And +have arrived at plans? First your own safety, señora?”</p> +<p>“No, señor,––first the bringing back of the people +driven off by the slavers. The letter is written; this +child is to take it because the people are her people, but +a safe man is wanted, and these two I cannot let go. You +know José Perez, and his wife must not be without a man +of religion as guard, yet he alone would not save me +from others, hence the American señor–––”</p> +<p>“Sure, that is a safe thought,” and he took the seat +offered by Kit. But he shook his head after listening to +their suggestions.</p> +<p>“No. Isidro is too old, and Clodomiro with his flying +ribbands of a would-be lover, is too young for that trail. +You want––you want–––”</p> +<p>He paused as his mind evidently went searching among +his men for one dependable. Then he smiled at Kit.</p> +<p>“You saved me the right man, señor! Who would be +better than the foreman of Soledad? Would it not be +expected that Señora Perez would send the most important +of the ranchmen? Very well then. Marto is +safe, he will go.”</p> +<p>“But Marto––” began Padre Andreas, when Rotil +faced about, staring him into silence.</p> +<p>“Marto will return here to Soledad today,” he said, +and the face of the priest went pale. It was as if he had +said that the task of Marto on the east trail would be +ended.</p> +<p>“Yes, Marto Cavayso has been at Hermosillo,” assented +Doña Jocasta. “He will know all the ways to +arrive quickly.”</p> +<p>“That will be attended to. Will you, señor, see to it +that horse and provision are made ready for the trail? +And you, señora? Soledad in the wilderness is no good +place for a lady. When this matter of the slaves is arranged, +will it please you to ride south, or north? Troops +of the south will be coming this way;––it will be a land +of soldiers and foraging.”</p> +<p>“How shall I answer that?” murmured Doña Jocasta +miserably. “In the south José Perez may make life a not +possible thing for me,––and in the north I would be a +stranger.”</p> +<p>“José Perez will not make trouble; yet trouble might +be made,––at first,” said Rotil avoiding her eyes, and +turning again to Kit. “Señor, by the time Marto gets +back from the south, the pack mules will be here again. +Until they are gone from Soledad I trust you in charge of +Señora Perez. She must have a manager, and there is +none so near as you.”</p> +<p>“At her service,” said Kit promptly, “but this +place–––”</p> +<p>“Ai, that is it,” agreed Rotil. “North is the safer place +for women alone, and you––did you not say that on +Granados there were friends?”</p> +<p>“Why, yes, General,” replied Kit. “My friend, Captain +Pike, is somewhere near, and the owner of Granados +is a lady, and among us we’ll do our best. But it’s a hard +trip, and I’ve only one gun.”</p> +<p>“You will take your choice of guns, horses, or men,” +decided Rotil. “That is your work. Also you will take +with you the evidence of Señora Perez on that matter of +the murder. The padre can also come in on that,––so it +will be service all around.”</p> +<p>Chappo came to the door to report that all was ready +for the trail, and Rotil stood up, and handed to Doña +Jocasta the marriage contract.</p> +<p>“Consider the best way of protecting this until you +reach an alcalde and have a copy made and witnessed,” +he said warningly. “It protects your future. The fortunes +of war may take all the rest of us, but the wife of +Perez needs the record of our names; see to it!”</p> +<p>She looked up at him as if to speak, but no words +came. He gazed curiously at her bent head, and the +slender hands over the papers. In his life of turmoil and +bloodshed he had halted to secure for her the right to a +principality. In setting his face to the east, and the battle +line, he knew the chance was faint that he would ever +see her again, and his smile had in it a touch of self-derision +at the thought,––for after all he was nothing +to her!</p> +<p>“So––that is all,” he said, turning away. “You come +with me a little ways, señor, and to you, señora, <i>adios</i>!”</p> +<p>“Go with God, Ramon Rotil,” she murmured, “and if +ever a friend is of need to you, remember the woman to +whom you gave justice and a name!”</p> +<p>“<i>Adios</i>,” he repeated, and his spurs tinkled as he strode +through the patio to the portal where the saddle horses +were waiting. The pack mules were already below the +mesa, and reached in a long line over the range towards +the cañon of the eastern trail.</p> +<p>“You have your work cut out,” he said to Kit. “For +one thing, Marto Cavayso will carry out orders, but you +must not have him enter a room where Doña Jocasta +may be. It would be to offend her and frighten him. He +swears to the saints that he was bewitched. That is as +may be, but it is an easy way out! When the pack mules +come back, and Marto is here, it is for you two to do +again the thing we did last night. I may need Soledad +on another day, and would keep all its secrets. After you +have loaded the last of the guns it is best for you to go +quickly. Here is a permit in case you cross any land +held by our men;––it is for you, your family, and all +your baggage without molestation. Señora Perez has the +same. This means you can take over the border any of +the furnishings of Soledad required by the lady for a +home elsewhere. The wagons sent north by Perez will +serve well for that, and they are hers.”</p> +<p>“But if he should send men of his own to interfere–––”</p> +<p>“He won’t,” stated Rotil. “You are capitan, and +Soledad is under military rule. There is only one soul +here over which your word is not law. I have given the +German Judas to your girl, and the women can have their +way with him. He is as a dead man; call her.”</p> +<p>There was no need, for Tula had followed at a discreet +distance, and from beside a pillar gazed regretfully +after her hero, the Deliverer, whom she felt every man +should follow.</p> +<p>“<i>Oija, muchacha!</i>” he said as Kit beckoned her forward, +“go to Fidelio. He is over there filling the cantins +at the well. Tell him to give you the key to the +quarters of El Aleman, and hearken you!––I wash my +hands of him from this day. If you keep him, well, but +if he escapes, the loss is to you. I go, and not again will +Ramon Rotil trap a Judas for your hellishness.”</p> +<p>Tula sped to Fidelio, secured the key and was back to +hold the stirrup of Rotil as he was helped to the saddle.</p> +<p>“If God had made me a man instead of a maid, I +would ride the world as your soldier, my General,” she +said, holding the key to her breast as an amulet.</p> +<p>“Send your lovers instead,” he said, and laughed, +“for you will have them when you get more beef on +your bones. <i>Adios</i>, soldier girl!”</p> +<p>She peered up at him under her mane of black hair.</p> +<p>“Myself,––I think that is true,” she stated gravely, +“also my lovers, when they come, must follow you! +When I see my own people safe in Palomitas it may be +that I, Tula, will also follow you,––and the help of the +child of Miguel may not be a little help, my General.”</p> +<p>Kit Rhodes alone knew what she meant. Her intense +admiration for the rebel leader of the wilderness had +brought the glimmer of a dream to her;––the need of +gold was great as the need of guns, and for the deliverer +of the tribes what gift too great?</p> +<p>But the others of the guard laughed at the crazy saying +of the brown wisp of a girl. They had seen women of +beauty give him smiles, and more than one girl follow +his trail for his lightest word, but to none of them +did it occur that this one called by him the young crane, +or the possessor of many devils, could bring more power +to his hand than a regiment of the women who were +comrades of a light hour.</p> +<p>But her solemnity amused Rotil, and he swept off +his hat with exaggerated courtesy.</p> +<p>“I await the day, Tulita. Sure, bring your lovers,––and +later your sons to the fight! While you wait for +them tell Marto Cavayso he is to have a care of you as +if you were the only child of Ramon Rotil! I too will +have a word with him of that. See to it, Capitan of the +roads, and <i>adios!</i>”</p> +<p>He grinned at the play upon the name of Rhodes, and +whirled his horse, joining his men, who sat their mounts +and watched at a little distance.</p> +<p>Within the portal was gathered all those left of the +household of Soledad to whom the coming and the +going of the revolutionary leader was the great event +of their lives, and all took note of the title of “Capitan” +and the fact that the Americano and the Indian girl had +his last spoken words.</p> +<p>They had gone scarce a mile when Fidelio spurred +his horse back and with Mexican dash drew him back +on his haunches as Kit emerged from the corridor.</p> +<p>“General Rotil’s compliments,” he said with a grin, +“and Marto will report to you any event requiring written +record,––and silence!”</p> +<p>“Say that again and say it slow,” suggested Kit.</p> +<p>“That is the word as he said it, Capitan, ‘requiring +the writing of records, and––silence!’”</p> +<p>“I get you,” said Kit, and with a flourish and a clatter, +Fidelio was soon lost in the dust.</p> +<p>Kit was by no means certain that he did “get” him. +He felt that he had quite enough trouble without addition +of records and secrecy for acts of the Deliverer.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XIX_THE_RETURN_OF_TULA' id='CHAPTER_XIX_THE_RETURN_OF_TULA'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XIX</h2> +<h3>THE RETURN OF TULA</h3> +</div> +<p>The sentinel palms of Soledad were sending long +lines of shadows toward the blue range of the +Sierras, and gnarled old orange trees in the ancient +mission garden drenched the air with fragrance from +many petals.</p> +<p>There had been a sand storm the day before, followed +by rain, and all the land was refreshed and sparkling. +The pepper trees swung tassels of bloom and the flaming +coral of the occotilla glowed like tropic birds poised on +wide-reaching wands of green. Meadow larks echoed +each other in the tender calls of nesting time, and from +the jagged peaks on the east, to far low hills rising out +of a golden haze in the west, there was a great quiet +and peace brooding over the old mission grounds of +the wilderness.</p> +<p>Doña Jocasta paced the outer corridor, watched somberly +by Padre Andreas on whom the beauty of the +hour was lost.</p> +<p>“Is your heart turned stone that you lift no hand, or +speak no word for the soul of a mortal?” he demanded. +“Already the terrible women of Palomitas are coming +to wait for their Judas, and this is the morning of the +day!”</p> +<p>“It is no work of mine, Padre,” she answered wearily. +“I am sick,––here!––that the beast has been all +these days and nights under a roof near me. I know how +the women feel, though I think I would not wait, as they +have waited,––for Good Friday.”</p> +<p>“It is murder in your heart to harbor such wickedness +of thought,” he insisted. “Your soul is in jeopardy +that you do not contemplate forgiveness. Even though +a man be a heretic, a priest must do his office when it +comes to a sentence of death. After all––he is a human.”</p> +<p>“I do not know that,” replied Doña Jocasta thoughtfully, +and she sank into a rawhide chair in the shade of +a pillar. “Listen, Padre. I am not learned in books, +but I have had new thoughts with me these days. Don +Pajarito is telling me of los Alemanos all over the +world;––souls they have not, and serpents and toads are +their mothers! Here in Mexico we have our flag from +old Indian days with the eagle and the snake. Once +I heard scholars in Hermosillo talk about that; they +said it was from ancient times of sky worship, and the +bird was a bird of stars,––also the serpent.”</p> +<p>Padre Andreas lifted his brows in derision at the +childishness of Indian astrology.</p> +<p>“Myself, I think the Indian sky knowers had the +prophet sight,” went on Doña Jocasta. “They make +their eagle on the standard and they put the serpent +there of the reason that some day a thing of poison +would crawl to the nest of the eagle of Mexico to comrade +there. It has crawled over the seas for that, +Padre, and the beak and claws and wing of the eagle +must all do battle to kill the head and the heart of it;––for +the heart of a serpent dies hard, and they breed +and hatch their eggs everywhere in the soil of Mexico. +Señor Padre, the Indian women of Palomitas are right!––the +girl Tula is a child of the eagle, and her stroke at +the heart of the German snake will be a true stroke. I +will not be one to give the weak word for mercy.”</p> +<p>Her gaze, through half-closed lids, was directed towards +the far trail of the cañon where moving dots of +dark marked the coming of the Palomitas women. A +ray of reflected light touched the jewel green of her +eyes like shadowed emeralds in their dusky casket, and +the priest, constantly proclaiming the probable loss of +her soul, could not but bring his glance again and again +to the wondrous beauty of her. She had bloomed like +a royal rose in the days of serene rest at Soledad.</p> +<p>“If the heretic Americano gives you these thoughts +which are not Christian, it will be a day of good luck +when you see the last of him,” was his cold statement as +he watched her. “My mind is not well satisfied as to +his knowledge of secret things here in Sonora. The +Indians say he is an enchanter or Ramon Rotil would +never have left him here as capitan with you,––and that +belt of gold–––”</p> +<p>“But it was not the belt of the Americano!”</p> +<p>“No, but he <i>knows</i>! I tell you that gold is of the gold +lost before we were born,––the red gold of the padres’ +mine!”</p> +<p>“But the old women are telling me that the gold was +Indian gold long before Spanish priests saw the land! +Does the Indian girl then not have first right?”</p> +<p>“None has right ahead of the church, since all those +pagans are under the rule of church! They are benighted +heathen who must come under instruction and +authority, else are they as beasts of the field.”</p> +<p>“Still,––if the girl makes use of her little heritage for +a pious purpose–––”</p> +<p>“Her intent has nothing to do with that secret knowledge +of the Americano!” he insisted. “Has he bewitched +you also that you have so little interest in a +mine of gold in anyone of the arroyas of your land?”</p> +<p>She smiled at that without turning her head.</p> +<p>“If a mountain of gold should be uncovered at Soledad, +of what difference to me? Would he let a woman +make traffic with it? Surely not.”</p> +<p>“He?”</p> +<p>“José Perez,––who else?”</p> +<p>Padre Andreas closed his eyes a moment and arose, +but did not answer. He paced the length of the corridor +and back before he spoke.</p> +<p>“It is for you to ask the Americano that the prisoner +be given a priest if he wants prayer,” he said returning +to their original subject of communication. “It is a +duty that I tell you this; it is your own house.”</p> +<p>“Señor Rhodes is capitan,” she returned indifferently. +“It is his task to give me rest here to prepare for that +long north journey. I do not rest in my mind or my +soul when you talk to me of the German snake, so I +will ask that you speak with Capitan Rhodes. He has +the knowing of Spanish.”</p> +<p>“Too much for safety of us,” commented the priest +darkly. “Who is to say how he uses it with the Indians? +It is well known that the American government +would win all this land, and work with the Indians that +they help win it.”</p> +<p>“So everyone is saying in Hermosillo,” agreed Doña +Jocasta, “but the American capitan has not told me lies +of any other thing, and he is saying that is a lie made by +foreign people. Also––” and she looked at him doubtfully, +“the man Conrad cursed your name yesterday +as a damned Austrian whose country had cost his country +much.”</p> +<p>“My mother was not Austrian!” retorted Padre Andreas, +“and all my childhood was in Mexico. But how +did Conrad know?”</p> +<p>“He told Elena it was his business to know such +things. The Germans help send many Mexican priests +north over the border. He had the thought that you are +to go with me for some reason political of which I knew +nothing!”</p> +<p>“I? Did <i>I</i> come in willingness to this wilderness? +From the beginning to the end I am as a prisoner here;––as +much a prisoner as is El Aleman behind the bars! +No horse is mine;––if I walk abroad for my own health +a vaquero ever is after me that I ride back with no +fatigue to myself! It is the work of the heretic Americano +who will have his own curse for it!”</p> +<p>He fumed nervously over the unexpected thrust of +Austrian ancestry, and the beautiful eyes of Doña Jocasta +regarded him with awakened interest. She had +never thought of his politics, or possible affiliations, but +after all it was true that he had been stationed at a +pueblo where everything on wheels must pass coming +north towards the border, also that was a very small +pueblo to support a padre, and perhaps–––</p> +<p>“Padre,” she said after a moment, “but for the +Americano you would be a dead man. Think you what +Ramon would have done to a priest who let a vaquero +carry me to the ranges! Also I came back to Soledad +because the Americano told me it was only duty and +justice that I come for your sake as Ramon has no liking +for priests. You see, señor, our American capitan +of Soledad is not so bad;––he had a care of you.”</p> +<p>“Too much a care of me!” retorted the priest. +“Know you not that the door of my sleeping room is +bolted each night, and unbolted at dawn? He laughs +with a light heart, and sings foolishly,––your new Americano; +but under that cloak of the simple his plotting is +not idle!”</p> +<p>“As to that, I think his light heart is not so light +these days,” said Doña Jocasta. “Two days now the +Indian girl and Marto Cavayso could have been back in +Soledad, and he is looking, looking ever over that empty +trail. Before the sun was above the sierra today he was +far there coming across the mesa.”</p> +<p>“A man does not go in the dark to look for a trail,” +said Padre Andreas meaningly. “He unbolted my door +on his return, and to me he looked as a man who has +done work that was heavy. What work is there for him +to do alone in the hills?”</p> +<p>“Who knows? A horse herd is somewhere in a cañon +beyond. There are colts, and the storm of yesterday +might make trouble. The old father of Elena says that +storm has not gone far and will come back! And while +the Americano rides to learn of colts, and strays, he also +picks the best mules for our journey to the border.”</p> +<p>“Does he find the best mules with packs already on +their backs in the cañons?” demanded the padre skeptically. +“From my window I saw them return.”</p> +<p>“I also,” confessed Doña Jocasta amused at the persistence +of suspicion, “and the load was the water bags +and <i>serape</i>! Does any but a fool go into the wilderness +without water?”</p> +<p>“You cover him well, señora, but I think it was not +horses he went in the night to count,” said the priest +sarcastically. “Gold in the land is to him who finds it,––and +I tell you the church will hear of that red gold belt +from me! Also there will be a new search for it! If it +is here the church will see that it does not go with +American renegades across the border!”</p> +<p>“Padre, all the land speaks peace today, yet you are +as a threatening cloud over Soledad!”</p> +<p>“I speak in warning, not threat,––and I am not the +only cloud in the sky. The women of vengeance are +coming beyond there where the willows are green.”</p> +<p>Doña Jocasta looked the way he pointed, and stood +up with an exclamation of alarm.</p> +<p>“Clodomiro! Call Clodomiro!” she said hurriedly, +and as the priest only stared at her, she sped past him to +the portal and called the boy who came running from the +patio.</p> +<p>She pointed as the priest had pointed.</p> +<p>“They are strangers, they do not know,” she said. +“Kill a horse, but meet them!”</p> +<p>His horse was in the plaza, and he was in the saddle +before she finished speaking, digging in his heels and +yelling as though leading a charge while the frightened +animal ran like a wild thing.</p> +<p>Doña Jocasta stood gazing after him intently, shading +her eyes with her hand. Women came running out of +the patio and Padre Andreas stared at her.</p> +<p>“What new thing has given you fear?” he asked in +wonder.</p> +<p>“No new thing,––a very old thing of which Elena told +me! That green strip of willow is the edge of a quicksand +where no one knows the depth. The women are +thinking to make a short path across, and the one who +leads will surely go down.”</p> +<p>The priest stared incredulous.</p> +<p>“How a quicksand and no water?” he asked doubtfully.</p> +<p>“There <i>is</i> water,––hidden water! It comes under the +ground from the hills. In the old, old days it was a +wide well boiling like a kettle over a fire, also it was +warm! Then sand storms filled that valley and filled +the well. It is crusted over, but the boiling goes on far +below. Elena said not even a coyote will touch that +cañoncita though the dogs are on his trail. The Indians +say an evil spirit lives under there, but the women of +Mesa Blanca and Palomitas do not know the place.”</p> +<p>“It should have a fence,––a place like that.”</p> +<p>“It had, but the wind took it, and, as you see, Soledad +is a forgotten place.”</p> +<p>They watched Clodomiro circle over the mesa trail +and follow the women down the slope of the little +valley. It was fully three miles away, yet the women +could be seen running in fear to the top of the mesa +where they cast themselves on the ground resting from +fright and exertion.</p> +<p>Quite enjoying his spectacular dash of rescue, Clodomiro +cantered back along the trail, and when he reached +the highest point, turned looking to the southeast where, +beyond the range, the old Yaqui trail led to the land of +despair.</p> +<p>He halted there, throwing up his hand as if in answer +to some signal, and then darted away, straight across the +mesa instead of toward the buildings.</p> +<p>“Tula has come!” said Doña Jocasta in a hushed +voice of dread. “She has come, and Señor Rhodes is +needed here. That coming of Tula may bring an end +to quiet days,––like this!”</p> +<p>She sighed as she spoke, for the week had been as a +space of restful paradise after the mental and physical +horrors she had lived through.</p> +<p>In a half hour Clodomiro came in sight again just +as Kit rode in from the west.</p> +<p>“Get horses out of the corrals,” he called, “all of +them. That trail has been long even from the railroad.”</p> +<p>It was done quickly, and the vaqueros rode out as +Clodomiro reached the plaza.</p> +<p>“<i>Tula?</i>” asked Kit.</p> +<p>“Tula is as the living whose mind is with the dead,” +said the boy. “Many are sick, some are dead,––the +mother of Tula died on the trail last night.”</p> +<p>“Good God!” whispered Kit. “After all that hell +of a trail, to save no one for herself! Where is Marto?”</p> +<p>“Marto walks, and sick ones are on his horse. I +go back now that Tula has this horse.”</p> +<p>“No, I will go. Stay you here to give help to the +women. Bring out beds in every corridor. Bring straw +and blankets when the beds are done.”</p> +<p>Doña Jocasta put out her hand as he was about to +mount.</p> +<p>“And I? What task is mine to help?” she asked, +and Kit looked down at her gravely.</p> +<p>“Señora, you have only to be yourself, gracious and +kind of heart. Also remember this is the first chance +in the lands of Soledad to show the natives they have +not alone a padrona, but a protecting friend. In days +to come it may be a memory of comfort to you.”</p> +<p>Then he mounted, and led the string of horses out +to meet the exiles. While she looked after him murmuring, +“In days to come?”</p> +<p>And to the padre she said, “I had ceased to think of +days to come, for the days of my life had reached the +end of all I could see or think. He gives hope even in +the midst of sadness,––does the Americano.”</p> +<p>Kit met the band where the trail forked to Palomitas +and Mesa Blanca. Some wanted to go direct to their +own homes and people, while Marto argued that food +and rest and a priest awaited them at Soledad, and +because of their dead, they should have prayers.</p> +<p>Tula said nothing. She sat on the sand, and caressed +a knife with a slightly curved blade,––a knife not Mexican, +yet familiar to Kit, and like a flash he recalled +seeing one like it in the hand of Conrad at Granados.</p> +<p>She did not even look up when he halted beside her +though the others welcomed with joy the sight of the +horses for the rest of the trail.</p> +<p>“Tula!” he said bending over her, “Tula, we come +to welcome you,––my horse is for your riding.”</p> +<p>She looked up when he touched her.</p> +<p>“Friend of me,” she murmured wistfully, “you made +me put a mark at that place after we met in the first +dawn,––so I was knowing it well. Also my mother was +knowing,––and it was where she died last night under +the moon. See, this is the knife on which Anita died in +that place. It is ended for us––the people of Miguel, +and the people of Cajame!”</p> +<p>“Tula, you have done wonderful things, many deeds +to make the spirit of Miguel proud. Is that not so, my +friends?” and he turned to the others, travel-stained, +sick and weary, yet one in their cries of the gratitude +they owed to Tula and to him, by which he perceived +that Tula had, for her own reasons, credited him with +the plan of ransom.</p> +<p>They tried brokenly to tell of their long fear and +despair in the strangers’ land,––and of sickness and +deaths there. Then the miracle of Tula walking by the +exalted excellencia of that great place, and naming one +by one the Palomitas names, forgetting none;––until all +who lived were led out from that great planting place +of sugar cane and maize, and their feet set on the +northern way.</p> +<p>When they reached this joyous part of the recital +words failed, and they wept as they smiled at him and +touched the head of Tula tenderly. Even a gorgeous +and strange <i>manta</i> she now wore was pressed to the lips +of women who were soon to see their children or their +desolate mothers.</p> +<p>His eyes grew misty as they thronged about her,––the +slender dark child of the breed of a leader. The new +<i>manta</i> was of yellow wool and cotton, bordered with +dull green and little squares of flaming scarlet woven +in it by patient Indian hands of the far south coast. It +made her look a bit royal in the midst of the drab-colored, +weary band.</p> +<p>She seemed scarcely to hear their praise, or their sobs +and prayers. Her face was still and her gaze far off +and brooding as her fingers stroked the curved blade +over and over.</p> +<p>“An Indian stole that knife from the German after +his face was cut with it by her sister,” said Marto +Cavayso quietly while the vaqueros were helping the +weaker refugees to mount, two to each animal. “That +man gives it to her at the place where Marta, her +mother, died in the night. So after that she does not +sleep or eat or talk. It is as you see.”</p> +<p>“I see! Take you the others, and Tula will ride +on my saddle,” said Kit in the same tone. Then he +pointed to the beautifully worked <i>manta</i>, “Did she +squander wealth of hers on that?”</p> +<p>Marto regarded him with an impatient frown––it +seemed to him an ill moment for the American joke.</p> +<p>“Tula had no wealth,” he stated, “we lived as we +could on the fine gold you gave to me for myself.”</p> +<p>“Oh yes, I had forgotten that,” declared Kit in some +wonder at this information, “but <i>mantas</i> like that do +not grow on trees in Sonora.”</p> +<p>“That is a gift from the very grand daughter of the +General Terain,” said Marto. “Also if you had seen +affairs as they moved there at Linda Vista you would +have said as does Ramon Rotil, that this one is daughter +of the devil! I was there, and with my eyes I saw it, +but if I had not,––an angel from heaven would not make +me believe!”</p> +<p>“What happened?”</p> +<p>“The Virgin alone knows! for women are in her care, +and no man could see. As ordered, I went to the gates +of that hacienda very grand. <i>Sangre de Christo!</i> if +they had known they would have strung me to a tree +and filled me with lead! But I was the very responsible +vaquero of Rancho Soledad in Altar––and the lizards of +guards at the gate had no moment of suspicion. I told +them the Indian girl carried a letter for the eyes of +their mistress and the sender was Doña Jocasta Perez. +At that they sent some messenger on the run, for they +say the Doña Dolores is fire and a sword to any servant +of theirs who is slow in her tasks.”</p> +<p>“I heard she was a wonder of pride and beauty,” said +Kit. “Did you see her?”</p> +<p>“That came later. She sent for Tula who would +give the letter to no one,––not even to me. The guard +divided their dinner with me while I waited; if they +were doing work for their general I was doing work +for mine and learned many things in that hour! At +last Tula came walking down that great stair made from +one garden to another where laurel trees grow, and with +her walked a woman out of the sun. There is no other +word, señor, for that woman! Truly she is of gold +and rose; her mother’s family were of old Spain and +she is a glory to any day!”</p> +<p>“Did you feel yourself under witchcraft––once +more?” queried Kit.</p> +<p>“<i>Sangre de Christo!</i> Never again! But José Perez +had a good eye for making choice of women,––that is a +true word! So Doña Dolores walked down to the drive +with that <i>manta</i> over her arm, also a belt in her hand,––a +belt of gold, señor, see!”</p> +<p>To the astonished gaze of Kit Rhodes he drew from +under his coat the burro-skin belt he had directed the +making of up there in the hidden cañon of El Alisal. +Marto balanced it in his hand appreciatively.</p> +<p>“And there was more of it than this!” he exulted, +“for the way on the railroad was paid out of it for all +the Indians. That is why we lost two days,––our car +was put on a side track, and for the sick it was worse +than to walk the desert.”</p> +<p>“Yes; well?”</p> +<p>“Doña Dolores got in a fine carriage there. <i>Madre +de Dios!</i> what horses! White as snow on the sierras, +and gold on all the harness! Me, I am dreaming of +them since that hour! They got in, Tula also in her +poor dress, and a guard told me to follow the carriage. +It was as if San Gabriel made me invitation to enter +heaven! Twenty miles we went through that plantation, +a deep sea of cane, señor, and maize of a tree size,––the +richness there is riches of a king. Guards were +everywhere and peons rode ahead to inform the major-domo, +and he came riding like devils to meet Doña +Dolores Terain. I am not a clever man, señor, but even +I could see that never before had the lady of Linda +Vista made herself fatigue by a plantation ride there, +and I think myself he had a scare that she see too much! +At the first when Doña Dolores had speech with him, it +was easy to see he blamed me, and his eyes looked once +as if to scorch me with fire. Then she pointed to the +child beside her, and gave some orders, and he sent a +guard with Tula through another gate into a great +corral where men and women were packed like cattle. +Señor, I have been in battles, but I never heard screams +of wounded like the screams of joy I heard in that +corral! Some of these Indians dropped like dead and +were carried out of the gate that way as Tula stood +inside and named the names.</p> +<p>“When it was over that woman of white beauty told +that manager to have them all well fed, and given meat +for the journey, for he would answer to the general +if any stroke of harm came to anyone of them on the +plantation of Linda Vista. Then she gave to my hand +the belt of gold to care for the poor people on the trail;––also +she said the people were a free gift to Doña Jocasta +Perez, and there was no ransom to pay. Myself I think +the Doña Dolores had happiness to tell the general, her +father, that José Perez had a wife, for that plan of +marriage was but for politics. <i>Sangre de Christo!</i> what +a woman! When all was done she held out the <i>manta</i> to +Tula, and her smile was as honey of the mesquite, and +she said, ”In my house you would not take the gift +I offered you, but now that you have your mother, and +your friends safe, will you yet be so proud?“ and Tula +with her arms around her mother, stood up and let the +thing be put over her head as you see, and that, Señor +Capitan, is the way of the strange <i>manta</i> of Tula.”</p> +<p>“And that?” queried Kit, indicating the belt. Marto +smiled a bit sheepishly and lowered his voice because the +last of the horses were being loaded with the homesick +human freight, and the chatter, and clatter of hoofs had +ceased about them.</p> +<p>“Maybe it is the <i>manta</i>, and maybe I am a fool,” +he confessed, “but she told me to spend not one ounce +beyond what was needed, for it was to use only for +these sick and poor people of hers. There was a good +game going on in that train,––and fools playing! I could +have won every peso if I had put up only a little handful +of the nuggets. That is why I think my general knew +when he said she was the devil, for she stood up in +that straight rich garment of honor and looked at me––only +looked, not one spoken word, señor!––and on my +soul and the soul of my mother, the wish to play in that +game went away from me in that minute, and did not +come back! How does a man account for a thing like +that; I ask you?”</p> +<p>Kit thought of that first night on the treasure trail in +the mountain above them, and smiled.</p> +<p>“I can’t account for it, though I do recognize the +fact,” he answered. “It is not the first time Tula has +ruled an outfit, and it is not the <i>manta</i>!”</p> +<p>Then he walked over and lifted her from the ground +as he would lift a child, she weighed so little more!</p> +<p>“Little sister,” he said kindly, “now that you are +rested, you will ride my horse to Soledad. Your big +work is done for your people. All is finished.”</p> +<p>“No, señor,––not yet is the finish,” she said shaking +her head, “not yet!”</p> +<p>Kit felt uncomfortably the weight in his pocket of +the key of Conrad’s room. He had made most solemn +promise it would be guarded till she came. He had +studied up some logical arguments to present to her +attention for herding the German across the border as +a murderer the United States government would deal +justice to, but after the report of Marto concerning her +long trail, and the death of her mother in the desert, he +did not feel so much like either airing ideas or asking +questions. He was rather overwhelmed by the knowledge +that she had not allowed even Marto to guess that the +bag of gold was her very own!</p> +<p>He took her on the saddle in front of him because +she drooped so wearily there alone, and her head sank +against his shoulder as if momentarily she was glad +to be thus supported.</p> +<p>“Poor little eaglet!” he said affectionately, “I will +take you north to Cap Pike, and someone else who +will love you when she hears all this; and in other years, +quieter years, we will ride again into Sonora, and–––”</p> +<p>She shook her head against his shoulder, and he +stopped short.</p> +<p>“Why, Tula!” he began in remonstrance, but she +lifted her hand with a curious gesture of finality.</p> +<p>“Friend of me,” she said in a small voice with an +undertone of sad fatefulness, “words do not come today. +They told you I am not sleeping on this home trail, and +it is true. I kept my mother alive long after the death +birds of the night were calling for her––it is so! Also +today at the dawn the same birds called above me,––above +<i>me</i>! and look!”</p> +<p>They had reached the summit of the valley’s wall and +for a half mile ahead the others were to be seen on the +trail to Soledad, but it was not there she pointed, but to +the northeast where a dark cloud hung over the mountains. +Its darkness was cleft by one lance of lightning, +but it was too far away for sound of thunder to reach +them.</p> +<p>“See you not that the cloud in the sky is like a bird,––a +dark angry bird? Also it is over the trail to the north, +but it is not for you,––<i>I</i> am the one first to see it! Señor, +I will tell you, but I telling no other––I think my +people are calling me all the time, in every way I look +now. I no knowing how I go to them, but––I think I +go!”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XX_EAGLE_AND_SERPENT' id='CHAPTER_XX_EAGLE_AND_SERPENT'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XX</h2> +<h3>EAGLE AND SERPENT</h3> +</div> +<p>Marto Cavayso gave to Kit Rhodes the burro-skin +belt and a letter from Doña Dolores Terain +to the wife of José Perez.</p> +<p>“My work is ended at the hacienda until the mules +come back for more guns, and I will take myself to the +adobe beyond the corrals for what rest there may be. +You are capitan under my general, so this goes to you +for the people of the girl he had a heart for. Myself,––I +like little their coyote whines and yells. It may be a +giving of thanks, or it may be a mourning for dead,––but +it sounds to me like an anthem made in hell.”</p> +<p>He referred to the greeting songs of the returned +exiles, and the wails for the dead left behind on the trail. +The women newly come from Palomitas sat circled on +the plaza, and as food or drink was offered each, a portion +was poured on the sand as a libation to the ghosts +of the lately dead, and the name of each departed was +included in the wailing chant sung over and over.</p> +<p>It was a weird, hypnotic thing, made more so by the +curious light, yellow and green in the sky, preceding that +dark cloud coming slowly with sound of cannonading +from the north. Though the sun had not set, half the +sky was dark over the eastern sierras.</p> +<p>“The combination is enough to give even a sober man +the jim-jams,” agreed Kit. “Doña Jocasta is sick with +fear of them, and has gone in to pray as far from the +sound as possible. The letter will go to her, and the +belt will go to Tula who may thank you another day. +This day of the coming back she is not herself.”</p> +<p>“Mother of God! that is a true word. No girl or +woman is like that!”</p> +<p>The priest, who had talked with the sick and weary, +and listened to their sobs of the degradation of the slave +trail, had striven to speak with Tula, who with head +slightly drooped looked at him under her straight brows +as though listening to childish things.</p> +<p>“See you!” muttered Marto. “That <i>manta</i> must +have been garb of some king’s daughter, and no common +maid. It makes her a different thing. Would you not +think the padre some underling, and she a ruler giving +laws?”</p> +<p>For, seated as she was, in a chair with arms, her robe +of honor reached straight from her chin to her feet, giving +her appearance of greater height than she was possessed +of, and the slender banda holding her hair was of +the same scarlet of the broideries. Kit remembered calling +her a young Cleopatra even in her rags, and now he +knew she looked it!</p> +<p>He was not near enough to hear the words of the +priest, but with all his energy he was striving to win +her to some view of his. She listened in long silence +until he ceased.</p> +<p>Then her hand went under her <i>manta</i> and drew out +the curved knife.</p> +<p>She spoke one brief sentence, and lifted the blade over +her head. It caught the light of the hovering sun, and +the Indians near enough to hear her words set up a +scream of such unearthly emotion that the priest turned +ashen, and made the sign to ward off evil.</p> +<p>It was merely coincidence that a near flash of lightning +flamed from the heavens as she lifted the knife,––but +it inspired every Indian to a crashing cry of exultation.</p> +<p>And it did not end there, for a Palomitas woman had +carried across the desert a small drum of dried skin +stretched over a hollow log, and at the words of Tula +she began a soft tum-tum-tum-tum on the hidden instrument. +The sound was at first as a far echo of the +thunder back of the dark cloud, and the voices of the +women shrilled their emphasis as the drum beat louder, +or the thunder came nearer.</p> +<p>Kit Rhodes decided Marto was entirely correct as to +the inspiration back of that anthem.</p> +<p>“<i>Sangre de Christo!</i> look at that!” muttered Marto, +who meant to turn his back on the entire group, yet was +held by the fascination of the unexpected.</p> +<p>Four Indian youths with a huge and furious bull came +charging down the mesa towards the corral. A <i>reata</i> +fastened to each horn and hind foot of the animal was +about the saddle horn of a boy, and the raging bellowing +creature was held thus at safe distance from all. The +boys, shouting with their joy of victory, galloped past +the plaza to where four great stakes had already been +driven deep in the hard ground. To those stakes the +bull would be tied until the burden was ready for his +back––and his burden would be what was left of +“Judas” when the women of the slave trail got through +with him!</p> +<p>“God the father knows I am a man of no white +virtues,” muttered Marto eyeing the red-eyed maddened +brute, “but here is my vow to covet no comradeship of +aught in the shape of woman in the district of Altar––bred +of the devil are they!”</p> +<p>He followed after to the corral to watch the tying of +the creature, around which the Indian men were gathered +at a respectful distance.</p> +<p>But Rhodes, after one glance at the bellowing assistant +of Indian vengeance, found himself turning again +to Tula and the padre. That wild wail and the undertone +of the drum was getting horribly on his nerves,––yet +he could not desert, as had Marto.</p> +<p>Tula sat as before, but with the knife held in her open +hand on the arm of the chair. She followed with a +grim smile the careering of the bull, then nodded her +head curtly to the priest and turned her gaze slowly +round the corridor until she saw Rhodes, and tilted back +her head in a little gesture of summons.</p> +<p>“Well, little sister,” he said, “what’s on your +mind?”</p> +<p>“The padre asks to pray with El Aleman. I say yes, +for the padre has good thoughts in his heart,––maybe +so! You have the key?”</p> +<p>“Sure I have the key, but I fetch it back to you when +visitors start going in, and––oh yes––there’s your belt +for your people.”</p> +<p>“No; you be the one to give,” she said with a glance +of sorrow towards a girl who was youngest of the slaves +brought back. “You, amigo, keep all but the key.”</p> +<p>“As you say,” he agreed. “Come along, padre, you +are to get the privilege you’ve been begging for, and I +don’t envy you the task.”</p> +<p>Padre Andreas made no reply. In his heart he blamed +Rhodes that the prisoner had not been let escape during +the absence of the girl, and also resented the offhand +manner of the young American concerning the duty of a +priest.</p> +<p>The sun was at the very edge of the world, and all +shadows spreading for the night when they went to the +door of Conrad’s quarters. Kit unlocked the door and +looked in before opening wide. The one window faced +the corral, and Conrad turned from it in shaking horror.</p> +<p>“What is it they say out there?” he shouted in fury. +“They call words of blasphemy, that the bull is Germany, +and ‘Judas’ will ride it to the death! They are +wild barbarians, they are–––”</p> +<p>“Never mind what they are,” suggested Kit, “here is +a priest who thinks you may have a soul worth praying +for, and the Indians have let him come––once!”</p> +<p>Then he let the priest in and locked the door, going +back to Tula with the key. She sat where he had left +her, and was crooning again the weird tuneless dirge +at which Marto had been appalled.</p> +<p>But she handed him a letter.</p> +<p>“Marto forgot. It was with the Chinaman trader +at the railroad,” she said and went placidly on fondling +the key as she had fondled the knife, and pitching her +voice in that curious falsetto dear to Indian ceremonial.</p> +<p>He could scarce credit the letter as intended for himself, +as it was addressed in a straggling hand filling all +the envelope, to Capitan Christofero Rhodes, Manager +of Rancho Soledad, District of Altar, Sonora, Mexico, +and in one corner was written, “By courtesy of Señor +Fidelio Lopez,” and the date within a week. He opened +it, and walked out to the western end of the corridor +where the light was yet good, though through the barred +windows he could see candles already lit in the shadowy +<i>sala</i>.</p> +<p>The letter was from Cap Pike, and in the midst of all +the accumulated horror about him, Kit was conscious of +a great homesick leap of the heart as he skimmed the +page and found her name––“Billie is all right!”</p> +<blockquote> +<p>How are you, Capitan? (began the letter). That fellow +Fidelio rode into the <i>cantina</i> here at La Partida today. He +asked a hell’s slew of questions about you, and Billie and me +nearly had fits, for we thought you were sure dead or held +for ransom, and I give it to you straight, Kit, there isn’t a +peso left on the two ranches to ransom even Baby Buntin’ if +the little rat is still alive, and that ain’t all Kit: it don’t +seem possible that Conrad and Singleton mortgaged both +ranches clear up to the hilt, but it sure has happened, every +acre is plastered with ten per cent paper and the compound +interest strips it from Billie just as sure as if it was droppin’ +through to China. When Conrad was on the job he had it +all blanketed, but now saltpeter can’t save it without cash. +Billie is all right, but some peaked with worry. So am I. +But you cheer up, for I got plans for a hike up into Pinal +County for us three on a search for the Lost Dutchman +Mine, lost fifty years and I have a hunch we can find it, got +the dope from an old half breed who knew the Dutchman. +So don’t you worry about trailing home broke. The Fidelio +hombre said to look for you in six days after Easter, and +meet you with water at the Rio Seco, so we’ll do that. He +called you capitan and said the Deliverer had made you an +officer; how about it? He let loose a line of talk about your +two women in the outfit, but I sort of stalled him on that, +so Billie wouldn’t get it, for I reckon that’s a greaser lie, Kit, +and you ain’t hitched up to no gay Juanita down there. I +had a monkey and parrot time to explain even that Tula +squaw to Billie, for she didn’t savvy––not a copper cent’s +worth! She is right here now instructin’ me, but I won’t let +her read this, so don’t you worry. She says to tell you it +looks at last like our old eagle bird will have a chance to flop +its wings in France. The pair of us is near about cross-eyed +from watchin’ the south trail into Altar, and the east trail +where the troops will go! She says even if we are broke +there is an adobe for you at Vijil’s, and a range for Buntin’ +and Pardner. Billie rides Pardner now instead of Pat.</p> +<p>I reckon that’s all Kit, and I’ve worked up a cramp on this +anyway. I figured that maybe you laid low down there till +the Singleton murder was cleared up, but I can alibi you on +that O. K., when Johnny comes marchin’ home! So don’t +you worry.</p> +<p class='ralign'>Yours truly,<span class='rindent11'> </span><br /> +Pike.<span class='rindent4'> </span></p> +</blockquote> +<p>He read it over twice, seeking out the lines with <i>her</i> +name and dwelling on them. So Billie was riding Pardner,––and +Billie had a camp ready for him,––and Billie +couldn’t savvy even a little Indian girl in his outfit––<i>say!</i></p> +<p>He was smiling at that with a very warm glow in his +heart for the resentment of Billie. He could just imagine +Pike’s monkey and parrot time trying to make +Billie understand accidents of the trail in Sonora. He +would make that all clear when he got back to God’s +country! And the little heiress of Granados ranches +was only an owner of debt-laden acres,––couldn’t raise a +peso to ransom even the little burro! Well, he was +glad she rode Pardner instead of another horse; that +showed–––</p> +<p>Then he smiled again, and drifted into dreams. He +would let Bunting travel light to the Rio Seco, and then +load him for her as no burro ever was loaded to cross +the border! He wondered if she’d tell him again he +couldn’t hold a foreman’s job? He wondered–––</p> +<p>And then he felt a light touch on his arm, and turned +to see the starlike beauty of Doña Jocasta beside him. +Truly the companionship of Doña Jocasta might be a +more difficult thing to explain than that of the Indian +girl of a slave raid!</p> +<p>Her face was blanched with fear, and her touch +brought him back from his vision of God’s country to the +tom-tom, and the weird chant, and the thunder of storm +coming nearer and nearer in the twilight.</p> +<p>“Señor!” she breathed in terror, “even on my knees +in prayer it is not for anyone to shut out this music of +demons. Look! Yesterday she was a child of courage +and right, but what is she today?”</p> +<p>She pointed to Tula and clung to him, for in all the +wild chorus Tula was the leader,––she who had the +words of ancient days from the dead Miguel. She sat +there as one enthroned draped in that gorgeous thing, +fit, as Marto said, for a king’s daughter, while the others +sat in the plaza or rested on straw and blankets in the +corridor looking up at her and shrilling savage echoes to +the words she chanted.</p> +<p>“And that animal,––I saw it!” moaned Doña Jocasta. +“Mother of God! that I should deny a priest who would +only offer prayers for that wicked one who is to be +tortured on it! Señor, for the love of God give me a +horse and let me go into the desert to that storm, any +place,––any place out of sight and sound of this most +desolate house! The merciful God himself has forsaken +Soledad!”</p> +<p>As she spoke he realized that time had passed while +he read and re-read and dreamed a dream because of +the letter. The sun was far out of sight, only low hues +of yellow and blue melting into green to show the illumined +path it had taken. By refraction rays of copper +light reached the zenith and gave momentarily an unearthly +glow to the mesa and far desert, but it was only +as a belated flash, for the dusk of night touched the edge +of it.</p> +<p>And the priest locked in with Conrad had been forgotten +by him! At any moment that girl with the key +might give some signal for the ceremony, whatever it +was, of the death of the German beast!</p> +<p>“Sure, señora, I promise you,” he said soothingly, +patting her hand clinging to him. “There is my horse +in the plaza, and there is Marto’s. We will get the +padre, and both of you can ride to the little adobe +down the valley where Elena’s old father lives. He is +Mexican, not Indian. It is better even to kneel in prayer +there all the night than to try to rest in Soledad while +this lasts. At the dawn I will surely go for you. Come,––we +will ask for the key.”</p> +<p>Together they approached Tula, whose eyes stared +straight out seeing none of the dark faces lifted to hers, +she seemed not to see Kit who stopped beside her.</p> +<p>“Little sister,” he said, touching her shoulder, “the +padre waits to be let out of the room of El Aleman, and +the key is needed.”</p> +<p>She nodded her head, and held up the key.</p> +<p>“Let me be the one,” begged Doña Jocasta,––“I +should do penance! I was not gentle in my words to the +padre, yet he is a man of God, and devoted. Let me be +the one!”</p> +<p>The Indian girl looked up at that, and drew back the +key. Then some memory, perhaps that kneeling of +Doña Jocasta with the women of Palomitas, influenced +her to trust, and after a glance at Kit she nodded her +head and put the key in her hand.</p> +<p>“You, señor, have the horses,” implored Doña Jocasta, +“and I will at once come with Padre Andreas.”</p> +<p>“<i>Pronto!</i>” agreed Kit, “but I must get you a <i>serape</i>. +Rain may fall from that cloud.”</p> +<p>She seemed scarcely to hear him as she sped along the +patio towards the locked door. Kit entered his own +room for a blanket just as she fitted the key in the lock, +and spoke the padre’s name.</p> +<p>The next instant he heard her screams, and a door +slam shut, and as he came out with the blanket, he saw +the priest dash toward the portal leading from the patio +to the plaza.</p> +<p>He ran to her, lifting her from the tiles where she +had been thrown.</p> +<p>“Conrad!” she cried pointing after the flying figure. +“There! Quickly, señor, quickly!”</p> +<p>He jerked open the door and looked within, a still +figure with the face hidden, crouched by a bench against +the wall. In two strides Kit crossed from the door and +grasped the shoulder, and the figure propped there fell +back on the tiles. It was the dead priest dressed in the +clothes of Conrad, and the horror of that which had +been a face showed he had died by strangulation under +the hands of the man for whom he had gone to pray.</p> +<p>Doña Jocasta ran wildly screaming through the patio, +but the Indian voices and the drum prevented her from +being heard until she burst among them just as Conrad +leaped to the back of the nearest horse.</p> +<p>“El Aleman! El Aleman!” she screamed pointing to +him in horror. “He has murdered the padre and taken +his robe. It is El Aleman! Your Judas has killed your +priest!”</p> +<p>Kit ran for his own horse, but with the quickness of +a cat Tula was before him in the saddle, and whirling +the animal, leaning low, and her gorgeous <i>manta</i> streaming +behind like a banner she sped after the German +screaming, “Judas! Judas! Judas of Palomitas!”</p> +<p>And, as in the other chants led by her, the Indian +women took up this one in frenzied yells of rage.</p> +<p>The men of the corral heard and leaped to saddles to +follow the flying figures, but Kit was ahead,––not much, +but enough to be nearest the girl.</p> +<p>Straight as an arrow the fugitive headed for Mesa +Blanca, the nearest ranch where a fresh horse could be +found, and Doña Jocasta and some of the women without +horses stood in the plaza peering after that wild race +in the gray of the coming night.</p> +<div class='figtag'> +<a name='linki_4' id='linki_4'></a> +</div> +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/illus-356.jpg' alt='' title='' width='375' height='572' /><br /> +<p class='caption'> +The Indian girl was steadily gaining on the German.<br /> +</p> +</div> +<p>A flash of lightning outlined the three ahead, and a +wail of utter terror went up from them all.</p> +<p>“Mother of God, the cañon of the quicksand!” cried +Doña Jocasta.</p> +<p>“Tula! Tula! Tula!” shrilled the Indian women.</p> +<p>Tula was steadily gaining on the German, and Kit +was only a few rods behind as they dashed down the +slight incline to that too green belt in the floor of the +brown desert.</p> +<p>He heard someone, Marto he thought, shouting his +name and calling “<i>Sumidero! Sumidero!</i>” He did not +understand, and kept right on. Others were shouting at +Tula with as little result, the clatter of the horses and +the rumble of the breaking storm made all a formless +chaos of sound.</p> +<p>The frenzied scream of a horse came to him, and another +lightning flash showed Conrad, ghastly and staring, +leap from the saddle––in the middle of the little +valley––and Tula ride down on top of him!</p> +<p>Then a rope fell around Kit’s shoulders, pinioning his +arms and he was jerked from the horse with a thud +that for a space stunned him into semi-unconsciousness, +but through it he heard again the pitiful scream of a +dumb animal, and shouts of Marto to the frenzied +Indians.</p> +<p>“Ha! Clodomiro, the <i>reata</i>! Wait for the lightning, +then over her shoulders! Only the horse is caught;––steady +and a true hand, boy! Ai-yi! You are master, +and the Mother of God is your help! Run your horse +back,––run, curse you! or she will sink as he sinks! +<i>Sangre de Christo!</i> she cuts the <i>reata</i>!”</p> +<p>Kit struggled out of the rope, and got to his feet in +time to see the flash of her knife as she whirled to her +victim. Again and again it descended as the man, now +submerged to the waist, caught her. His screams of +fear were curdling to the blood, but high above the German +voice of fear sounded the Indian voice of triumph, +and from the vengeful cry of “Judas! Judas! Judas +of the world!” her voice turned sharply to the high +clear chant Kit had heard in the hidden cañon of the +red gold. It was as she said––there would be none of +her caste and clan to sing her death song to the waiting +ghosts, and she was singing it.</p> +<p>As those weird triumphant calls went out from the +place of death every Indian answered them with shouts as +of fealty, and in the darkness Kit felt as if among a +circle of wolves giving tongue in some signal not to +be understood by men.</p> +<p>He could hear the sobs of men and boys about him, +but not a measure of that wild wail failed to bring the +ever recurring response from the brown throats.</p> +<p>Marto, wet and trembling, cursed and prayed at the +horror of it, and moved close to Kit in the darkness.</p> +<p>“Jesus, Maria, and José!” he muttered in a choked +whisper, “one would think the fathers of these devils +had never been christened! <i>Sangre de Christo!</i> look at +that!”</p> +<p>For in a vivid sheet of lightning they saw a terrible +thing.</p> +<p>Tula, on the shoulders of the man, stood up for one +wavering instant and with both hands raised high, she +flung something far out from her where the sands were +firm for all but things of weight. Then her high triumphant +call ended sharply in the darkness as she cast +herself forward. She died as her sister had died, and +on the same knife.</p> +<p>Doña Jocasta stumbled from a horse, and clung to Kit +in terror. “Mother of God!” she sobbed. “It is as I +said! She is the Eagle of Mexico, and she died clean––with +the Serpent under her feet!”</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>In a dawn all silver and gold and rose after the storm, +there was only a trace at the edge of the sand where two +horses had carried riders to the treacherous smiling +arroya over which a coyote would not cross.</p> +<p>And one of the Indian women of Palomitas tied a +<i>reata</i> around the body of her baby son, and sent him to +creep out as a turtle creeps to that thing cast by Tula +to the women cheated of their Judas.</p> +<p>The slender naked boy went gleefully to the task as +to a new game, and spit in the dead face as he dragged +it with him to his mother who had pride in him.</p> +<p>It was kicked before the women back over the desert +to Soledad, and the boys used it for football that day, +and tied what was left of it between the horns of the +roped wild bull at the corral. The bellowing of the +bull when cut loose came as music to the again placid +Indian women of Palomitas. They were ready for the +home trail with their exiles. It had been a good ending, +and their great holiday at Soledad was over.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXI_EACH_TO_HIS_OWN' id='CHAPTER_XXI_EACH_TO_HIS_OWN'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXI</h2> +<h3>EACH TO HIS OWN</h3> +</div> +<p>A straggling train of pack mules followed by +a six-mule wagon, trailed past Yaqui Springs ten +days later, and was met there by the faithful Chappo and +two villainous looking comrades, who had cleaned out +the water holes and stood guard over them until arrival +of the ammunition train.</p> +<p>“For beyond is a dry hell for us, and on the other +side the Deliverer is circled by enemy fighters who would +trap him in his own land. He lies hid like a fox in the +hills waiting for this you bring. Water must not fail, +and mules must not fail; for that am I here to give +the word for haste.”</p> +<p>“But even forty mule loads will not serve him long,” +said Kit doubtfully.</p> +<p>“Like a fox in the hills I tell you, Señor Capitan,––and +only one way into the den! Beyond the enemy he +has other supplies safe––this is to fight his way to it. +After that he will go like a blaze through dry meadows +of zacatan.”</p> +<p>Kit would have made camp there for the night, but +Chappo protested.</p> +<p>“No, señor! Every drop in the sand here is for the +mules of the army. It is not my word, it is the word of +my general. Four hours north you will find Little +Coyote well. One day more and at the crossing of Rio +Seco, water will be waiting from the cold wells of La +Partida. It is so arrange, señor, and the safe trail is +made for you and for excellencia, the señora. In God’s +name, take all your own, and go in peace!”</p> +<p>“But the señora is weary to death, and–––”</p> +<p>“That is true, Capitan,” spoke Doña Jocasta, who +drooped in the saddle like a wilted flower. “But the +señora will not die, and if she does it is not so much +loss as the smallest of the soldiers of El Gavilan. We +will go on, and go quickly, see!––there is yet water in +the cantin, and four hours of trail is soon over.”</p> +<p>Ugly Chappo came shyly forward and, uncovered, +touched the hem of her skirt to his lips.</p> +<p>“The high heart of the excellencia gives life to the +men who fight,” he said and thrust his hand in a pocket +fastened to his belt. “This is to you from the Deliverer, +señora. His message is that it brought to him +the lucky trail, and he would wish the same to the +Doña Jocasta Perez.”</p> +<p>It was the little cross, once sent back to her by a peon +in bitterness of soul, and now sent by a general of +Mexico with the blessing of a soldier.</p> +<p>“Tell him Jocasta takes it as a gift of God, and his +name is in her prayers,” she said and turned away.</p> +<p>Clodomiro pushed forward,––a very different Clodomiro, +for the fluttering bands of color were gone from +his arms and his hair––the heart of the would-be bridegroom +was no longer his. He was stripped as for the +trail or for war, and fastened to his saddle was the +gun and ammunition he had won from Cavayso who +had gone quickly onward with his detachment of the +pack.</p> +<p>But Clodomiro halted beside Chappo, regardless of +need for haste on the trail, and asked him things in that +subdued Indian tone without light, shade, or accent, +in which the brown brothers of the desert veil their +intimate discourse.</p> +<p>“There, beyond!” said Chappo, “two looks on the +trail,” and he pointed west. “Two looks and one water +hole, and if wind moves the sand no one can find the +way where we go. It is not a trail for boys.”</p> +<p>“I am not now a boy,” said Clodomiro, “and when +the safety trail of the señora is over–––”</p> +<p>But Chappo waved him onward, for the wagon and +the pack mules, and even little gray Bunting had turned +reluctant feet north.</p> +<p>Clodomiro had come from Soledad because Elena,––who +never had been out of sight of the old adobe walls,––sat +on the ground wailing at thought of leaving her old +sick father and going to war, for despite all the persuasions +of Doña Jocasta, Elena knew what she knew, +and did not at all believe that any of them would see +the lands of the Americano,––not with pack mules of +Ramon Rotil laden with guns!</p> +<p>“If Tula had lived, no other would have been asked,” +Rhodes had stated. “But one is needed to make camp +for the señora on the trail,––and to me the work of the +packs and the animals.”</p> +<p>“That I can do,” Clodomiro offered. “My thought +was to go where Tula said lovers of hers must go, and +that was to El Gavilan. But this different thing can +also be my work to the safe wells of the American. That +far I go.”</p> +<p>Thus the three turned north from the war trail, and +Clodomiro followed, after making a prayer that the +desert wind would hear, and be very still, and fill no +track made by the mules with the ammunition.</p> +<p>This slight discussion at the parting of the ways concerning +two definite things,––need of haste, and conserving +of water,––left no moment for thought or query of +the packs of furnishings deemed of use to Señora Perez +in her removal to the north.</p> +<p>Doña Jocasta herself had asked no question and taken +no interest in them. Stripped of all sign of wealth and +in chains, she had ridden into Soledad, and in comfort +and much courtesy she was being conducted elsewhere. +How long it might endure she did not know, and no +power of hers could change the fact that she had been +made wife of José Perez;––and at any turn of any road +luck might again be with his wishes, and her estate fall +to any level he choose to enforce.</p> +<p>At dusk they reached the Little Coyote well, and had +joy to find water for night and morning, and greasewood +and dead mesquite wood for a fire. The night had +turned chill and Clodomiro spread the <i>serape</i> of Doña +Jocasta over a heap of flowering greasewood branches. +It was very quiet compared with the other camps on +the trail, and had a restful air of comfort, and of that +Jocasta spoke.</p> +<p>“Always the fear is here, señor,” she said touching her +breast. “All the men and guns of Ramon Rotil did not +make that fear go quiet. Every cañon we crossed I was +holding my breath for fear of hidden men of José Perez! +You did not see him in the land where he is strong; but +men of power are bound to him there in the south, and––against +one woman–––”</p> +<p>“Señora, I do not think you have read the papers +given to you by Padre Andreas to put with the others +given by General Rotil,” was Kit’s quiet comment. He +glanced toward the well where the boy was dipping water +into a wicker bottle. “Have you?”</p> +<p>“No, señor, it is my permit to be passed safely by all +the men of Ramon Rotil,” she said. “That I have not +had need of. Also there is the record that the American +murder at Granados was the crime of Conrad.”</p> +<p>“But, señora, there is one other paper among them.––I +would have told you yesterday if I had known your +fear. I meant to wait until the trail was ended, but–––”</p> +<p>“Señor!” she breathed leaning toward him, her great +eyes glowing with dreadful question, “<i>Señor!</i>”</p> +<p>“I know the paper, for I signed it,” said Kit staring +in the leaping blaze. “So did the padre. It is the certificate +of the burial of José Perez.”</p> +<p>“Señor! <i>Madre de Dios!</i>” she whispered.</p> +<p>“Death reached him on his own land, señora. We +passed the grave the first day of the trail.”</p> +<p>Her face went very white as she made the sign of +the cross.</p> +<p>“Then he––Ramon–––?”</p> +<p>“No,––the general did not see Perez on the trail. He +tried to escape from Cavayso and the man sent a bullet +to stop him. It was the end.”</p> +<p>She shuddered and covered her eyes.</p> +<p>Kit got up and walked away. He looked back from +where he tethered the mules for the night, but she had +not moved. The little crucifix was in her hand, he thought +she was praying. There were no more words to be said, +and he did not go near her again that night. He sent +Clodomiro with her <i>serape</i> and pillow, and when the +fire died down to glowing ash, she arose and went to +the couch prepared. She went without glance to right +or left––the great fear had taken itself away!</p> +<p>Clodomiro rolled himself in a <i>serape</i> not far from +her place of rest, but Kit Rhodes slept with the packs +and with two guns beside him. From the start on the +trail no man had touched his outfit but himself. He +grinned sometimes at thought of the favorable report +the men of Rotil would deliver to their chief,––for the +Americano had taken all personal care of the packs and +chests of Doña Jocasta! He was as an owl and had no +human need of sleep, and let no man help him.</p> +<p>The trail to the cañon of the Rio Seco was a hard +trail, and a long day, and night caught them ere they +reached the rim of the dry wash where, at long intervals, +rain from the hills swept down its age-old channel for +a brief hour.</p> +<p>Doña Jocasta, for the first time, had left the saddle and +crept to the rude couch afforded by the piled-up blankets +in the wagon; Clodomiro drove; and Kit, with the mules, +led the way.</p> +<p>A little water still swished about in their water bottles, +but not enough for the mules. He was more anxious than +he dared betray, for it was twenty miles to the lower +well of La Partida, and if by any stroke of fortune Cap +Pike had failed to make good––Cap was old, and liable +to–––</p> +<p>Then through the dusk of night he heard, quite near +in the trail ahead, a curious thing, the call of a bird––and +not a night bird!</p> +<p>It was a tremulous little call, and sent a thrill of such +wild joy through his heart that he drew back the mule +with a sharp cruel jerk, and held his breath to listen. +Was he going <i>loco</i> from lack of sleep,––lack of water,––and +dreams of–––</p> +<p>It came again, and he answered it as he plunged forward +down a barranca and up the other side where a +girl sat on a roan horse under the stars:––his horse! also +his girl!</p> +<p>If he had entertained any doubts concerning the +last––but he knew now he never had; a rather surprising +fact considering that no word had ever been spoken +of such ownership!––they would have been dispelled by +the way she slipped from the saddle into his arms.</p> +<p>“Oh, and you didn’t forget! you didn’t forget!” she +whimpered with her head hidden against his breast. +“I––I’m mighty glad of that. Neither did I!”</p> +<p>“Why, Lark-child, you’ve been right alongside wherever +I heard that call ever since I rode away,” he said +patting her head and holding her close. He had a horrible +suspicion that she was crying,––girls were mysterious! +“Now, now, now,” he went on with a comforting +pat to each word, “don’t worry about anything. +I’m back safe, though in big need of a drink,––and luck +will come your way, and–––”</p> +<p>She tilted her cantin to him, and began to laugh.</p> +<p>“But it has come my way!” she exulted. “O Kit, +I can’t keep it a minute, Kit––we did find that sheepskin!”</p> +<p>“What? A sheepskin?” He had no recollection of a +lost sheepskin.</p> +<p>“Yes, Cap Pike and I! In the bottom of an old chest +of daddy’s! We’re all but crazy because it came just +when we were planning to give up the ranch if we had +to, and now that you are here––!” her sentence ended +in a happy sigh of utter content.</p> +<p>“Sure, now that I’m here,” he assented amicably, +“we’ll stop all that moving business––<i>pronto</i>. That is +if we live to get to water. What do you know about +any?”</p> +<p>“Two barrels waiting for you, and Cap rustling firewood, +but I heard the wagon, and–––”</p> +<p>“Sure,” he assented again. “Into the saddle with you +and we’ll get there. The folks are all right, but the +cayuses–––”</p> +<p>A light began to blaze on the level above, and the +mules, smelling water, broke into a momentary trot and +were herded ahead of the two who followed more slowly, +and very close together.</p> +<p>Cap Pike left the fire to stand guard over the water +barrels and shoo the mules away.</p> +<p>“Look who’s here?” he called waving his hat in +salute. “The patriots of Sonora have nothing on you +when it comes to making collections on their native heath! +I left you a poor devil with a runt of a burro, a cripple, +and an Indian kid, and you’ve bloomed out into a bloated +aristocrat with a batch of high-class army mules. And +say, you’re just in time, and you don’t know it! We’re +in at last, by Je-rusalem, we’re <i>in</i>!”</p> +<p>Kit grinned at him appreciatively, but was too busy +getting water to ask questions. The wagon was rattling +through the dry river bed and would arrive in a few +minutes, and the first mules had to be got out of the way.</p> +<p>“You don’t get it,” said Billie alongside of him. “He +means war. We’re in!”</p> +<p>“With Mexico? <i>Again?</i>” smiled Kit skeptically.</p> +<p>“No––something real––helping France!”</p> +<p>“No!” he protested with radiant eyes. “Me for it! +Say, children, this is some homecoming!”</p> +<p>The three shook hands, all talking at once, and Kit +and Billie forgot to let go.</p> +<p>“Of course you know Cap swore an alibi for you +against that suspicion Conrad tried to head your way,” +she stated a bit anxiously. “You stayed away so long!”</p> +<p>“Yes, yes, Lark-child,” he said reassuringly, “I know +all that, and a lot more. I’ve brought letters of introduction +for the government to some of Conrad’s useful +pacifist friends along the border. Don’t you fret, Billie +boy; the spoke we put in their wheel will overturn their +applecart! The only thing worrying me just now,––beautifullest!––is +whether you’ll wait for me till I enlist, +get to France, do my stunt to help clean out the brown +rats of the world, and come back home to marry you.”</p> +<p>“Yip-pee!” shrilled Pike who was slicing bacon into +a skillet. “I’m getting a line now on how you made your +other collections!”</p> +<p>Billie laughed and looked up at him a bit shyly.</p> +<p>“I waited for you before without asking, and I reckon +I can do it again! I’m––I’m wonderfully happy––for +I didn’t want you to worry over coming home broke––and–––”</p> +<p>“Whisper, Lark-child. <i>I’m not!</i>”</p> +<p>“What?”</p> +<p>“Whisper, I said,” and he put one hand over her +mouth and led her over to the little gray burro. “Now, +not even to Pike until we get home, Billie,––but I’ve come +out alive with the goods, while every other soul who knew +went ‘over the range’! Buntin’ carries your share. I +knew you were sure to find the sheepskin map sooner or +later,” he lied glibly, “but luck didn’t favor me hanging +around for it. I had to get it while the getting was +good, but we three are partners for keeps, Buntin’ is +yours, and I’ll divide with Pike out of the rest.”</p> +<p>Billie touched the pack, tried to lift it, and stared.</p> +<p>“You’re crazy, Kit Rhodes!”</p> +<p>“Too bad you’ve picked a crazy man to marry!” he +laughed, and took off the pack. “Seventy-five pounds +in that. I’ve over three hundred. Lark-child, if you +remember the worth of gold per ounce, I reckon you’ll see +that there won’t need to be any delay in clearing off the +ranch debts,––not such as you would notice! and maybe +I might qualify as a ranch hand when I come back,––even +if I couldn’t hold the job the first time.”</p> +<p>“O Kit! O Cap! O me!” she whispered chantingly. +“Don’t you dare wake me up, for I’m having the dream +of my life!”</p> +<p>But he caught her, drew her close and kissed her hair +rumpled in the desert wind.</p> +<p>And as the wagon drew into the circle of light, that +was the picture Doña Jocasta saw from the shadows of +the covered wagon:––young love, radiant and unashamed!</p> +<p>She stared at them a moment strangely in a sudden +mist of tears, as Clodomiro jumped down and arranged +for her to alight. Cap Pike looking up, all but dropped +the coffeepot.</p> +<p>“Some little collector––that boy!” he muttered, and +then aloud, “You <i>Kit</i>!”</p> +<p>Kit turned and came forward leading Billie, who suddenly +developed panic at vision of the most beautiful, +tragic face she had ever seen.</p> +<p>“Some collector!” murmured Cap Pike forgetting +culinary operations to stare. “Shades of Sheba’s +queen!”</p> +<p>But Kit, whose days and nights of Mesa Blanca and +Soledad had rather unfitted him for hasty adjustments +to conventions, or standardized suspicion regarding the +predatory male, held the little hand of Billie very tightly, +and did not notice her gasp of amazement. He went forward +to assist Doña Jocasta, whose hesitating half glance +about her only enhanced the wonder of jewel-green eyes +whose beauty had been theme of many a Mexic ballad.</p> +<p>For these were the first Americanos she had ever met, +and it was said in the south that Americanos might be +wild barbaros,––though the señor of the songs–––</p> +<p>The señor of the songs reached his hand and made his +best bow as he noted her sudden shrinking.</p> +<p>“Here, Doña Jocasta, are friends of good heart. We +are now on the edge of the lands of La Partida, and this +little lady is its padrona waiting to give you welcome at +the border. Folks, this is Señora Perez who has escaped +from hell by help of the guns of El Gavilan.”</p> +<p>“Doña Jocasta!” repeated Cap Pike standing in +amazed incredulity with the forgotten skillet at an awkward +angle dripping grease into the camp fire, but his +amazement regarding personality did not at all change +his mental attitude as to the probable social situation. +“Some collector, Brother, but hell in Sonora isn’t the +only hell you can blaze the trail to with the wrong combination!”</p> +<p>Kit turned a silencing frown on the philosopher of +the skillet, but Billie went toward the guest with outstretching +hands.</p> +<p>“Doña Jocasta, oh!” she breathed as if one of her +fairy tales of beauty had come true, and then in Spanish +she added the sweet gracious old Castillian welcome, +“Be at home with us on your own estate, Señora Perez.”</p> +<p>Jocasta laid her hands on the shoulder of the girl, and +looked in the clear gray eyes.</p> +<p>“You are Spanish, Señorita?”</p> +<p>“My grandmother was.”</p> +<p>“Thanks to the Mother of God that you are not a +strange Americana!” sighed Jocasta in sudden relief. +Then she turned to her American courier and guard and +salvation over the desert trails.</p> +<p>“I saw,” she said briefly. “She is as the young sister +of me who––who is gone to God! Make yourself her +guard forever, Don Pajarito. May you sing many songs +together, and have no sorrows.”</p> +<p>After the substantial supper, Kit heard at first hand +all the veiled suspicion against himself as voiced in the +fragment of old newspaper wrapped around Fidelio’s +tobacco, and he and Doña Jocasta spread out the records +written by the padre, and signed by Jocasta and the +others, as witness of how Philip Singleton met death in +the arroya of the cottonwoods.</p> +<p>“It is all here in this paper,” said Jocasta, “and that +is best. I can tell the alcalde, yes, but if an––an accident +had come to me on the trail, the words on the paper +would be the safer thing.”</p> +<p>“But fear on the trail is gone for you now,” said +Kit smiling at her across the camp fire. Neither of them +had said any word of life at Mesa Blanca or Soledad, or +of the work of Tula at the death.</p> +<p>The German had strangled a priest, and escaped, and +in ignorance of trails had ridden into a quicksand, and +that was all the outer world need know of his end!</p> +<p>The fascinated eyes of Billie dwelt on Jocasta with +endless wonder.</p> +<p>“And you came north with the guns and soldiers of +Ramon Rotil,––how wonderful!” she breathed. “And +if the newspapers tell the truth I reckon he needs the +guns all right! Cap dear, where is that one José Ortego +rode in with from the railroad as we were leaving La +Partida?”</p> +<p>“In my coat, Honey. You go get it––you are younger +than this old-timer.”</p> +<p>Jocasta followed Billie with her eyes, though she had +not understood the English words between them. It was +not until the paper was unfolded with an old and very bad +photograph of Ramon Rotil staring from the front page +that she whispered a prayer and reached out her hand. +The headline to the article was only three words in heavy +type across the page: “Trapped at last!”</p> +<p>But the words escaped her, and that picture of him +in the old days with the sombrero of a peon on his +head and his audacious eyes smiling at the world held +her. No picture of him had ever before come her way; +strange that it should be waiting for her there at the +border!</p> +<p>The Indian boy at sight of it, stepped nearer, and +stood a few paces from her, looking down.</p> +<p>“It calls,” he said.</p> +<p>It was the first time he had spoken except to make +reply since entering the American camp. Doña Jocasta +frowned at him and he moved a little apart, leaning,––a +slender dark, semi-nude figure, against the green and +yellow mist of a palo verde tree,––listening with downcast +eyes.</p> +<p>Doña Jocasta looked from the pictured face to the big +black letters above.</p> +<p>“Is it a victorious battle, for him?” she asked and +Kit hesitated to make reply, but Billie, not knowing +reason for silence, blurted out the truth even while her +eyes were occupied by another column.</p> +<p>“Not exactly, señora. But here is something of real +interest to you, something of Soledad––oh, I <i>am</i> +sorry!”</p> +<p>“What does it say,––Soledad?”</p> +<p>“See!––I forgot you don’t know the English!”</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>Troops from the south to rescue Don José Perez from +El Gavilan at Soledad turn guns on that survival of old mission +days, and level it to the ground. Soledad was suspected +as an ammunition magazine for the bandit chief, and it +is feared Señor Perez is held in the mountains for ransom, +as no trace of him has been found.</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>“Now you’ve done it,” remarked Kit, and Billie turned +beseeching eyes on the owner of Soledad, and repeated +miserably––“I <i>am</i> so sorry!”</p> +<p>But Doña Jocasta only lifted her head with a certain +disdain, and veiled the emerald eyes slightly.</p> +<p>“So!” she murmured with a shrug of the shoulder. +“It is then a bandit he is called in the words of the +American newspaper?”</p> +<p>Cap Pike not comprehending the rapid musical +Spanish, leaned forward fishing for a coal to light his +pipe, noting her voice and watching her eyes.</p> +<p>“There you have it already!” he muttered to Kit. +“All velvet, and mad as hell!”</p> +<p>Billie, much bewildered, turned to Kit as for help, but +the slender hand of Doña Jocasta reached out pointing +to the headlines.</p> +<p>“And––this?” she said coldly. “It is, you say, not +victorious for Ramon Rotil, that––bandit?”</p> +<p>“It says, señora,” hesitated Billie, “that he is hid +in the hills, and–––”</p> +<p>“That we know,” stated Doña Jocasta, “what other +thing?”</p> +<p>“‘He has a wound and was carried by his men to one +of his retreats, a hidden place,’” read Billie slowly, translating +into Spanish as she went on. “That is all except +that the Federals had to retreat temporarily because a +storm caused trouble and washed out a bridge over which +their ammunition train has to go. The place of the accident +is very bad. Timber and construction engineers +are being rushed to service there, but for a few days +luck is with the Hawk.”</p> +<p>“So!––For a few days!” repeated Doña Jocasta in +the cool sweet voice. “In a few days Ramon Rotil +could cross Mexico. He is El Gavilan!”</p> +<p>Things were coming too fast for Billie. She regarded +the serenity of Doña Jocasta with amazement, and tried to +imagine how she would feel if enemy guns battered down +the old walls of Granados, or––thought of terror––if +Kit should be held in the hills and tortured for ransom!</p> +<p>“Speaking of floods,” remarked Pike in amiable desire +to bridge over an awkward pause, “we’ve used half the +water we brought, and need to make a bright and early +start tomorrow. Rio Seco is no garden spot to get +caught in short of water. Our La Partida mules are +fresh as daisies right off a month of range, but yours +sure look as if they had made the trip.”</p> +<p>“What does he say,––the old señor?” asked Doña +Jocasta.</p> +<p>Billie translated for her, whereupon she arose and +summoned Clodomiro by a gesture.</p> +<p>“My bed,” she said briefly, “over there,” and she +indicated a thicket of greasewood the wagon had passed +on their arrival. “Also this first night of safety you +will be the sentinel to keep guard that Señor Rhodes may +at last have sleep. All the danger trail he had none.”</p> +<p>Cap Pike protested that he do guard duty, but the +smile of Doña Jocasta won her way.</p> +<p>“He is younger and not weary, señor. It is good for +him, and it pleases me,” she said.</p> +<p>“The camp is yours,” he agreed weakly, and against +his better judgment. He did not like Indians who were +like “sulky slim brown dumb snakes”; that was what +he muttered when he looked at Clodomiro. In his irritation +at the Indian’s silence it didn’t even occur to him +that he never had known any snakes but dumb ones.</p> +<p>But if the voice of Clodomiro was uncannily silent, +his eyes spoke for him as they followed Doña Jocasta. +Kit could only think of a lost, homesick dog begging for +the scent of the trail to his own kennel. He said so to +Billie as he made her bed in the camp wagon.</p> +<p>“Cap and I will be right here at the hind wheels,” he +promised. “Yes,––sure, I’ll let the Indian ride herd for +the night. Doña Jocasta is right, it’s his turn, and we +seem to have passed the danger line.”</p> +<p>“Knock wood!” cautioned Billie.</p> +<p>So he rapped his head with his knuckles, and they +laughed together as young happy things do at trifles. +Then he stretched himself for sleep under the stars and +almost within arm’s reach of the girl––the girl who +had ridden to meet him in the night, the wonderful girl +who had promised to wait until he came back from +France ... of course he could get into the army +<i>now</i>! They would need men too badly to turn him +down again. If there was a trifle of discrepancy in sight +of his eyes––which he didn’t at all believe––he had +the dust now, also the nuggets, to buy any and all treatment +to adjust <i>that</i> little matter. He had nearly four +hundred pounds, aside from giving all he dared give at +once as Tula’s gift to those women of the slave raid. +After the war was over he would find ways of again +crossing over to the great treasure chest in the hidden +cañon. The little information Pike had managed to +convey to him about that sheepskin map told him that +the most important indications had been destroyed during +those years it had been buried for safe-keeping. +The only true map in existence was the one in his own +memory,––no use to tell Pike and Billie that! He could +leave them in comfort and content, and when he got +back from France––He wondered how long it would +last––the war. Hadn’t the greatest of Americans tried +three years ago to hammer the fact into the alleged +brain pans of the practical politicians that the sooner +the little old United States made guns, and ships, and +flying machines for <i>herself</i>, the sooner she could help end +that upheaval of hell in Europe?... and they +wouldn’t listen! Listen?––They brought every ounce +of influence they could round up to silence those facts,––the +eternally condemned ostriches sticking their own heads +in the sand to blind the world to the situation! Now they +were in, and he wondered if they had even ten rounds +of ammunition for the cartridge belts of the few trained +soldiers in service? They had not had even three rounds +for the showy grand review attempted in Texas not +long since; also the transportation had been a joke, some +of the National Guards started, but never did arrive––and +France was a longer trail than Texas. God! they +should be ready to fight as the French were ready, in +twelve hours––and it would have to be months––a +long unequal hell for a time over there, but only one +finish, and the brown rats driven back to their den! +After that the most wonderful girl would––would––would–––</p> +<p>Then all the sleep due him on the sleepless trail settled +over him like a net weighted, yet very caressing, and +the world war and the wonderful girl drifted far away!</p> +<p>Beyond, on the other side of the fire, and out of the +circle of light, Clodomiro bore the <i>serape</i> of Doña Jocasta, +and made clear the place for her couch. She had +returned to the light of the fire and was scanning again +the annoying paper of the Americanos. Especially that +remembered face of the audacious eyes. They were +different eyes in these latter days, level and cynical, and +sometimes cruel.</p> +<p>“He calls,” said Clodomiro again beside her. She had +not heard him, and turned in anger that he dare startle +her.</p> +<p>“Who does he call?” she asked irritably tossing aside +the paper.</p> +<p>“All Mexico, I think. All Mexico’s heart,” and he +touched his breast. “Me, I do not sleep. I do your +work and when the end of the trail is yours, I ask, Excellencia, +that you send me back that I find him again,––the +Deliverer!”</p> +<p>“What did Ramon Rotil ever do for you that you fret +like a chained coyote because his enemies are strong?”</p> +<p>“Not anything, Excellencia. Me, he would not know +if I told him my name, but––he is the Deliverer who will +help the clans. Also, <i>she</i> would go,––Tula. <i>Sangre de +Christo!</i> there would be no chain strong enough to hold +her back if his wounds cried for help.”</p> +<p>“If––his wounds cried for help!” repeated Doña +Jocasta mechanically.</p> +<p>“It is true, Excellencia, El Gavilan was giving help +to many people in the lands he crossed. Now the many +will forget, and like a hawk with the weight of an arrow +in his breast he will fly alone to a high nest of the hills. +Death will nest with him there some night or some day, +Excellencia. And the many will forget.”</p> +<p>“Quiet you!” ordered Doña Jocasta angrily.</p> +<p>Abashed, Clodomiro went silent, and with a murmured +apology took himself into the shadows.</p> +<p>She lifted the pictured face barely discernible now in +the diminished light.</p> +<p>“And––the many will forget!” she repeated irritably. +“The boy has the truth of it, but if <i>she</i> had lived, so terribly +wicked,––so lost of God, I wonder if–––”</p> +<p>She lifted her face looking up at the still stars as if for +light on a thought, then flung her hands out despairingly +and turned away to the couch by the green bush of +fragrant yellow bloom.</p> +<p>But not to sleep. Long after the Americanos were +wrapped in slumber a little blaze sent glimmer of light +through the undergrowth, and she saw Clodomiro +stretched beside the fire. He had tossed a bit of greasewood +on the coals that he might again study the face of +El Gavilan.</p> +<p>She had heard him say that if no desert wind lifted +the sand he could follow to that hidden nest of the Hawk. +It was very dark now except for glimmer of stars through +lacy, slow-drifting clouds,––there was no wind. Later +there would be a waning moon! Much of every waking +life is a dream, and her dreams were of the No Man’s +Land of the desert,––the waterless trail from which she +had been rescued for peace!</p> +<p>Twice during the night Kit roused from the depths +sufficiently to realize that sleep is one of the greatest +gifts to man. Once Clodomiro was stretched by the little +fire inspecting the paper he could not read, the second +time he thought Baby Bunting was nosing around trying +to get close to human things. Both times he reached out +his hands to the precious packs beside which he slept +on the trail. All were safe, and he drifted again into a +great ocean of slumber.</p> +<p>He was wakened at dawn by the voice of Cap Pike, +keyed high for an ultra display of profanity.</p> +<p>“By the jumping Je-hosophat, I knew it!” he shrilled. +“That’s your latest collection, begod! I hoped he +wouldn’t, and knew he would! The all-firedest finest +pair of mules on Granados, and every water bag in +the outfit! Can you beat it?”</p> +<p>At the first shout Kit jumped to his feet, his eyes +running rapidly over his pack saddle outfit. All was +safe there, and as Billie lifted her head and looked at him +drowsily over the edge of the wagon bed he realized +that in the vital things of life all was well with his world.</p> +<p>“Let Sheba run your camp, and run it to hell, will +you?” went on Cap Pike accusingly. He was thrashing +around among the growth back of the Soledad outfit +wagon where the mules had been tethered. “Two––four––six, +and Baby Buntin’––yes sir! Lit out by +the dark of the moon, and left neither hide nor hair,––”</p> +<p>“Oh, be reasonable, Cap!” protested Kit. “Buntin’ +isn’t gone––she’s right alongside here, waiting for breakfast.”</p> +<p>“You’re shoutin’ she’s here; so is every dragged-to-death +skate you hit camp with! It’s Billie’s crackerjack +mules, the pick of the ranch, that the bare-legged greasy +heathen hit the trail with! And every water bag!”</p> +<p>“Well,” decided Kit, verifying the water statement by +a glance at the barrels, “no one is to blame. The boy +didn’t want to come this trail. He stuck until we were +over the rough of it, and then he cut loose. A pair of +mules isn’t so bad.”</p> +<p>“Now, of course not!” agreed Cap sarcastically. “A +mere A-number-one pair of mules belonging to another +fellow is only a flea bite to offer a visitor for supper! +Well, all <i>I</i> got to say–––”</p> +<p>“Don’t say it, Cap dear,” suggested Billie. “The Indian +was here because of Doña Jocasta, and <i>she</i> can’t +help it! As she doesn’t understand English, she’ll probably +think you’re murdering some of us over here. Whist +now, and put your muzzle on! We’ll get home without +the two mules. I’ll go and tell her that the hysterics is +your way of offering morning prayers!”</p> +<p>She slipped away, laughing at his protests, but when +a little past the fire place she halted, standing very still, +peering beyond at something on the ground under the +greasewood where the <i>serape</i> of Doña Jocasta had been +spread. No <i>serape</i> or sleeper was there!</p> +<p>Kit noted her startled pause, and in a few strides was +beside her; then, without a word, the two went forward +together and he picked up the package of papers laid +carefully under the greasewood. He knew without opening +them what they were,––the records made for her +safety, and for his, in Soledad, place of tragedies.</p> +<p>“They are the papers I was to put on record for her +in case––Well, I’ll do it, and you’ll take care of the +copies for her, Billie, and––and do your best for the +girl if a chance ever comes. We owe her a lot more than +she will ever guess,––our gold come out of Mexico under +the guard arranged for her, and when I come back–––”</p> +<p>“But Kit,” protested Billie, “to think of her alone with +that thieving Indian! He took flour and bacon too! And +if she hopes to find her husband–––”</p> +<p>“She doesn’t,” concluded Kit thoughtfully turning over +the certificate signed by the padre and him, of the husband’s +safe burial in the sands of Soledad. He glanced +at Billie in doubt. One never knew how safe it was to +tell things,––some things,––to a woman; also Billie was +so enchanted by Jocasta’s sad beauty, and–––</p> +<p>“No, I reckon she doesn’t hope much along that line. +She has probably gone back to the wilderness for another +reason,––one I never suspected until last night. And +Lark-child, we won’t talk about that, not at least till I +return from the ‘back of beyond’ over there,” and he +pointed eastward where shafts of copper light touched +the gray veil of the morning.</p> +<p>After his first explosion of amazement Cap Pike regarded +the elopement, as he called it, very philosophically, +considering his disgust over lost mules and flour and +bacon.</p> +<p>“What did I tell you right here last night?” he demanded +of Kit. “Soft as velvet and hard as hell,––that’s +what I said! She looks to me like a cross between a +saint in a picture frame and a love bird in a tree, and +her eyes! Yet after all no man can reckon on that blood,––she +is only a girl of the hills down there, and the next +we hear of her she’ll likely be leaden’ a little revolution +of her own.”</p> +<p>The young chap made no reply, but busied himself +hastening a scant breakfast in order that the worn mules +be got to water before the worst heat of a dry day. Also +the losses to the culinary outfit did make problems for +the trip.</p> +<p>Cap eyed him askance for a space, and then with a +chuckle wilfully misconstrued his silence and lowered his +tone.</p> +<p>“I don’t blame you for feeling downhearted on your +luck, Bub, for she sure was a looker! But it’s all in a +lifetime, and as you ramble along in years, you’ll find that +most any hombre can steal them, and take them home, but +when it comes to getting a permanent clinch on the female +affections–––”</p> +<p>Billie, who was giving a short ration of water to the +burro, called across to ask what Kit was laughing at in +that hilarious way. She also stated that she did not think +it a morning for hilarity, not at all! That wonderful, +beautiful, mystery woman might be going to her death!</p> +<p>After the packs were all on, Cap Pike swung the mules +of the first wagon into the home trail and passed over +the mesa singing rakishly.</p> +<table summary=''><tr><td> +<p class='cg'><i>Oh-h! Biddy McGee has been after me,<br /> +Since I’ve been in the army!</i></p> +</td></tr></table> +<p>And Billie turned in the saddle to take a last look over +the trail where the woman of the emerald eyes had passed +in the night.</p> +<p>“All my life I have looked, and looked into the beautiful +mirages of the south desert wondering what would +come out of it––and <i>she</i> was the answer,” she said, smiling +at Kit. “Tomorrow I’ll feel as if it was all a dream, +all but the wonderful red gold, and you! Some fine day +we’ll take a little <i>pasear</i> down there, I’ll follow that dream +trail, and–––”</p> +<p>“You will not!” decided the chosen of her heart with +rude certainty. “The dreams of that land of mirages are +likely to breed nightmares. You are on the right side +of the border for women to stay. Our old American +eagle is a pretty safe bird to roost with.”</p> +<p>“Well,” debated the only girl, “if it comes to that, +Mexico also has the eagle, and had it first!”</p> +<p>“Yes, contrary child,” he conceded, herding the mules +into line, “so it has,––but the eagle of Mexico is still +philandering with a helmeted serpent. Wise gamblers +reserve their bets on that game, we can only hope that +the eagle fights its way free!”</p> + +<!-- generated by ppg.rb version: ppg0814 --> +<!-- timestamp: Fri Aug 14 14:06:34 -0600 2009 --> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Treasure Trail, by Marah Ellis Ryan + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TREASURE TRAIL *** + +***** This file should be named 29694-h.htm or 29694-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/6/9/29694/ + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +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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