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diff --git a/41126-8.txt b/41126-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index fdb633e..0000000 --- a/41126-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,10077 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Wolf Cub, by Patrick Casey - -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/license - - -Title: The Wolf Cub - A Novel of Spain - -Author: Patrick Casey - -Illustrator: Terence Casey - -Release Date: October 21, 2012 [EBook #41126] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WOLF CUB *** - - - - -Produced by D Alexander, Mary Meehan, The Internet Archive -(TIA) and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - - THE WOLF-CUB - - _A NOVEL OF SPAIN_ - - BY PATRICK and TERENCE CASEY - - _WITH FRONTISPIECE BY - H. WESTON TAYLOR_ - - BOSTON - LITTLE, BROWN AND COMPANY - 1918 - - _Copyright, 1918_, - - BY PATRICK AND TERENCE CASEY - - _All rights reserved_ - - Published, January, 1918 - - - - -[Illustration: "It is my officer, my parent!" whispered the young -policeman] - - - - -THE WOLF-CUB - - - - -CHAPTER I - - -When Jacinto Quesada was yet a very little Spaniard, his father kissed -him upon both cheeks and upon the brow, and went away on an enterprise -of forlorn desperation. - -On a great rock at the brink of the village Jacinto Quesada stood with -his weeping mother, and together they watched the somber-faced -mountaineer hurry down the mountainside. He was bound for that hot, -sandy No Man's Land which lies between the British outpost, Gibraltar, -and sunburned, haggard, tragic Spain. The two dogs, Pepe and Lenchito, -went with him. They were pointers, retrievers. For months they had been -trained in the work they were to do. In all Spain there were no more -likely dogs for smuggling contraband. - -The village, where Jacinto Quesada lived with his peasant mother, was -but a short way below the snow-line in the wild Sierra Nevada. Behind it -the Picacho de la Veleta lifted its craggy head; off to the northeast -bulked snowy old "Muley Hassan" Cerro de Mulhacen, the highest peak of -the peninsula; and all about were the bleak spires of lesser mountains, -boulder-strewn defiles, moaning dark gorges. The village was called -Minas de la Sierra. - -The mother took the little Jacinto by the hand and led him to the -village chapel. She knelt before the dingy altar a long time. Then she -lit a blessed candle and prayed again. And then she handed the wick -dipped in oil to Jacinto and said: - -"Light a candle for thy father, tiny one." - -"But why should I light a candle for our Juanito, _mamacita_?" - -"It is that Our Lady of the Sorrows and the Great Pity will not let him -be killed by the men of the _Guardia Civil_!" - -"Men do not kill unless they hate. Do the men of the Guardia Civil hate, -then, the _pobre padre_ of me and the sweet husband of thee, -_mamacita_?" - -"It is not the hate, child! The men of the Guardia Civil kill any -breaker of the laws they discover guilty-handed. It is the way they keep -the peace of Spain." - -"But our Juanito is not a lawbreaker, little mother. He is no _lagarto_, -no lizard, no sly tricky one. He is an honest man." - -"Hush, _nino_! There are no honest men left in Spain. They all have -starved to death. Thy father has become a _contrabandista_ And if it be -the will of the good God, and if Pepe and Lenchito be shrewd to skulk -through the shadows of night and swift to run past the policemen on -watch, we will have sausages and _garbanzos_ to eat, and those little -legs of thine will not be the puny reeds they are now. _Ojala!_ they -will be round and pudgy with fat!" - -The men of Minas de la Sierra were all woodchoppers and -_manzanilleros_--gatherers of the white-flowered _manzanilla_. Their -fathers had been woodchoppers and manzanilleros before them. But too -persistently and too long, altogether too long, had the trees been cut -down and the manzanilla harvested. The mountains had grown sterile, -barren, bald. Not so many cords of Spanish pine were sledded down the -mountain slopes as on a time; not so many men burdened beneath great -loads of manzanilla went down into the city of Granada to sell in the -market place that which was worth good silver pesetas. - -There are no deer in the Sierra Nevada--neither red, fallow, nor roe. -There are no wild boar. There is only the Spanish ibex. And what poor -_serrano_ can provision his good wife and his _cabana_ full of lusty -brats by hunting the Spanish ibex? He has but one weapon--the ancient -muzzle-loading smooth-bore. And the ibex speeds like a chill glacial -wind across the snow fields and craggy solitudes, and only a man armed -with a cordite repeater can hope to bring him down. - -Soon descended the mountains only men who had turned their backs upon -Minas de la Sierra and who thought to leave behind forever the bleak -peaks and the wind-swept gorges and the implacable hunger. Out of every -ten only one crawled back, beaten and bruised by the savage Spanish -cities and the savage Spanish plains. With those of Minas de la Sierra -who could not tear themselves away from their native rocks, these -broken-hearted ones continued on and with them slowly starved. - -It was not the will of the good God that Jacinto Quesada should have fat -pudgy legs by reason of his father's endeavors. Shrewd were the dogs, -Pepe and Lenchito, but they were not so shrewd as were the Spanish -police. Came a pale and stuttering _arriero_, a muleteer, up to the -village one day. To Jacinto Quesada's mother he brought tragic news. - -The men of the Guardia Civil had discovered poor Juanito as he was -unbuckling a packet of Cuban cigars from the throat of the dog Lenchito; -they had walked him out behind a sand dune; they had made him dig a -grave. Then they had shot down Lenchito; then they had shot down Juan -Quesada. And then the dog and the man were kicked together into the one -grave and sand piled on top of them both. - -But make no mistake, _mi señor caballero_ reader! The men of the Guardia -Civil are not abominations of cruelty. They are not monsters, brutal and -depraved. _Quita!_ no. - -There are twenty-five thousand men in the Guardia Civil; twenty thousand -foot and five thousand cavalry. By twos, eternally by twos, they go -through Spain, exterminating crime wherever crime shows its fanged and -evil head. - -Every Spaniard is potentially a criminal. An empty belly goads him into -lawlessness; his very nature greases his wayward feet. The Spaniard is -by nature sullen, irascible, insolently independent, lawless. He is more -African than European. Prick a Spaniard and a vindictive Moor bleeds. - -Then, whether it be his famishing hunger or lawless passion which has -caused him to rise above the law, the Spaniard, his crime writ in red, -flees from the police. Spain is a country of uncouth wilds. There are -the desolate high steppes and the savage mountains; there are the tawny -_despoblados_, which are uninhabitated wastes; there are the _marismas_, -which are labyrinthine everglades where whole regiments may lie -concealed. - -But also, in Spain, there are railroads and telegraphs, and a most -efficient constabulary, the Guardia Civil. And, were it not for -_Caciquismo_, all evil-doers would be speedily apprehended by the -Guardia Civil, tried under the _alcaldes_, and incarcerated in the -Carcel de la Corte or the Presidio of Ceuta. - -Caciquismo is not a tangible thing. It is a secret and sinister -influence. It is not the Tammany of New York; it is not the Camorra of -Naples. Yet it resembles both these corrupt edifices in its special -Spanish way. Its instruments are prime ministers and muleteers, members -of the _cortes_ and bullfighters, hidalgos and low-caste Gitanos. - -A _cacique_ may be only the mayor of a tiny hamlet; again, he may be -privy councilor to the king. Yet high or low, he is but one of the many -tentacles of a gigantic octopus which lays its clammy shadow athwart the -land. - -It is well known that Tammany, for reasons political or otherwise, -protected criminals. Well, even as did Tammany, so does Caciquismo. A -Spanish criminal may be captured, tried before a magistrate and all; but -if he be one in good standing with the caciques, never is he sent to the -Carcel de la Corte or Ceuta. The invisible eight arms of the gigantic -octopus uncoil and reach out, the thousand ducts along those arms open -to spew a flood of favors and gold, and magistrate and prosecutor are -bought and paid for, and the men of the Civil Guard who cannot be -bought, who are incorruptible, are in the Spanish courts betrayed! - -Therefore, the men of the Guardia Civil are most high-handed and cruel. -The criminal caught in the deed never reaches the Spanish jail. He is -shot down on the spot. Bigots for justice are the men of the Guardia -Civil! - -_Carajo!_ but there was wailing in Minas de la Sierra when came the news -of Juan Quesada's death. So many men had gone away and been murdered by -the police, and so few were left! Women who had been made widows in the -selfsame way as Jacinto Quesada's mother came to the hut and sought to -comfort her. But she would not be comforted. For three days she lay on -the earthen floor of her hut and beat her hands and her head against the -dust. Then she commenced vomiting and swooning like one sick unto death. - -They thought it was the cholera. The cholera was forever scaling the -high mountains and skulking into the village in the night. A man of the -village went for the doctor, Don Jaime de Torreblanca y Moncada. He -lived but a few miles from Granada, and the man had to go all down the -hills to summon him. - -Torreblanca y Moncada was what is called a "hard man." He was a grandee -by birth and breeding, a hidalgo of the old granite-jawed, eagle-stern -and eagle-haughty Spanish sort--the Cortes y Monroy sort, the Hernan de -Soto sort. He worshipped his ancient name, his high hidalgo blood. His -personal honor was to him more precious than life, more sacred than a -sacrament, inviolable, consecrated. - -When a young man, he had married a woman of race and beauty. She had run -off with a Gypsy picador. Don Jaime had put a Manchegan knife down his -boot and set off after them, vowing to follow them to the end of the -earth even, and to kill them both. But the train, in which the guilty -ones fled, had not reached Jaen when it was wrecked, and they both were -crushed out of all semblance to two sinful lovers. - -With composure and reserve, Don Jaime heard the news. He did not even -laugh harshly or curse God for robbing him of his revenge. Only grim, -quiet and morose, he returned to his dishonored house and to his baby -daughter that had been robbed, sacrileged, and orphaned. - -He was quite a rememberable-looking man. His hair had whitened quickly -in the years that followed; his skin, from exposure to wind and weather, -was a deep swarth; and his eyes were gray. Not many Spaniards have gray -eyes. The eyes of Torreblanca y Moncada were a clear, cold, agate gray. -All in all, there was about his appearance, especially the long aquiline -nose, the stony eyes and pointed white beard, something which seemed to -harken back to the days of ruffs and ready swords--the days of the -terrible Spanish infantry, the Armada, the Bigotes, the "bearded men" -the Conquistadores. - -The mountaineers of Minas de la Sierra knew fear of him and awe. For -them he had only a contemptuous eye and a bitter smile and a harsh -imperious way. They said he had a granite boulder for a heart. But he -was very tender with the sick. - -He was the sort of physician who looks upon his business of serving the -ailing as a sacred commission from on high. He was like one who had -taken Holy Orders with his doctor's degree. No Jesuit was more slave to -his oaths; no Jesuit worked with more zeal for God and the Society than -did Don Jaime for Humanity and Science. The most poverty-abased -_labrador_, the most filthy beggar, had but to summon him, and he would -arise from his table or his bed and ride across Spain to him who needed -healing. - -He was the only physician who would journey up the mountains to Minas de -la Sierra. It mattered not to him that there were long climbing miles of -perilous goat-paths along howling gorges; it mattered not to him that -the mountaineers never had money to pay him his just due. He was indeed -a "hard man," haughty as Satanas, and grim and dour. But even as his -personal honor was to him more precious than life, so was his -physician's honor a covenant with Jehovah, tyrannical and imperious to -command him. - -The old men of Minas were sitting under the cork-oak in the center of -the village when the hidalgo doctor came out of the hut of the sick -woman. - -"Is it not the great illness, Don Jaime?" asked one of the old men, old -Castro. He was thinking of the dread cholera. - -"No. She is merely sick with despair." - -"Ah, that is the great illness of Spain! All Spain is sick with -despair!" - -"Carajo! but you are right, my father!" answered the Senor Doctor in his -bitter way. "Spain despairs. And why not? Spain famishes. There is no -food for honest men to eat. And men turn dishonest, thinking by crime to -appease their gnawing bellies. They became contrabandistas, _salteadores -de camino_, _abigeos_, _ladrones_. And the men of the Guardia Civil take -them out on the mountainside and murder them. - -"Our forefathers," he philosophized, "were refugees from the fall of -Troy. Black was their national color; black for their lost cause. They -should put a black stripe with the red and yellow stripes of our modern -Spanish flag. A black stripe for despair." - -"_Bueno_, Don Jaime!" said the old men. One added: - -"We have not studied at Salamanca like you, but we know what we know. -Every night the hungry children cry themselves to sleep. Our own -porridge bowls are never full. We have seen our sons grow desperate. We -have seen them one by one go away. There was Benito, my youngest. He -became a contrabandista, and the Civil Guard murdered him. There was -Adolpho, the son of my sister Teresa. He also went the same way. There -was Santiago Reyes and Mateo Pacheco and Ignacio Parral. And now follows -Juan Quesada." - -"What would you?" asked the Senor Doctor, with sudden brutality. "The -Guardia Civil must keep the peace of Spain. And Spaniards must steal to -live. It is dog eat dog. It will always be dog eat dog while men are -Spaniards and Spaniards starve." - -He turned abruptly away and entered once more the hut of Jacinto -Quesada's mother. When he came out again, he said to the women clustered -about the door: - -"She is forever kissing the child Jacinto and moaning, 'My poor -Jacintito! What will become of thee, thou pale tiny one? My poor, poor -Jacintito!' - -"It is better that he should be taken away from her until she is herself -again. His presence here only deepens her despair. I will carry him with -me down the mountain to my _casa_ outside Granada and keep him there for -a time. I have not much--what Spaniard is rich?--but he will be fed -well; he will be given the same food as is given my own daughter, -Felicidad." - -"Ah, Don Jaime, you have the heart of gold!" cried one woman, her eyes -moist and tender. - -"The Mother of God reward you, and mend your broken heart, proud -Torreblanca y Moncada!" cried another. And the others would have burst -out in a full litany of praises, had not the Senor Doctor fiercely said: - -"Don't stand there making the monkey of me, you mountain jades! _Quita -de ahi! Pronto!_ Get the peasants' brat into his jacket and -_alpagartas_, and wrap him warmly in his shawl. I desire to get out of -this accursed hole as quick as possible. It smells bad, and I itch. The -place is lousy!" - - - - -CHAPTER II - - -In the great harsh fist of the hidalgo doctor Jacinto Quesada, who was -then ten years old, put his little trembling hand and went down the -mountains, and entered a new world. - -The _casa_ of Don Jaime was large, decayed, dingy, and full of lizards -that lived between the crumbling adobe bricks. But it seemed to Jacinto -Quesada a sumptuous palace. Besides the hidalgo doctor, there lived in -the sumptuous palace two old servants and a pretty little girl with -golden hair and legs round and pudgy as would have been the legs of -Jacinto, had his father lived and prospered. - -In the great rooms that were so bare with poverty, the two children -played together. The eyes of the little Jacinto, alert to see all in -this new strangeness, had noted a peculiar thing. One day he said to -Felicidad: - -"Do you love your father, the Senor Doctor?" - -The child knuckled her brow. - -"It is not the love," she said thoughtfully. "Don Jaime is a very grand -and haughty hidalgo; it is not his desire that I should love him. But I -fear him much!" - -Came a day when Felicidad was very naughty. She tore leaves from the -huge old sheepskin-bound books in the great gloomy library, and cut them -into paper dolls. It was Don Jaime's one delight to read and reread, in -the long hot afternoons, those yellow-leaved, richly illuminated -ancient volumes. Pedro, one of the old servants, informed the doctor of -Felicidad's naughtiness. The doctor's face went ashy; he shook all over -with rage. He brought out a short whip of horsehide, a _quirta_ such as -_vaqueros_ use. With the quirta he lashed Felicidad's legs and back -unmercifully. - -Her screams drove like knives into little Jacinto Quesada's heart. He -was but ten years old and he was much afraid of the terrible hidalgo. -But as the whip pitilessly descended again and again, and Felicidad -screamed and writhed in agony, a hot anger welled up in him; he became -desperate as only a child becomes desperate; he went mad. - -Screaming himself, he charged at the doctor and tore at his trousers -with his finger nails, and tried to leap up and upon him. The quirta -rose again and fell upon his head. Then he caught at the doctor's wrist -and sunk his teeth into it. With bulldog tenacity he hung on, until he -was beaten into insensibility, and his jaws forced open. - -Strangely, Don Jaime conceived a sort of liking for Jacinto Quesada -after that. He took to calling him The Little Wolf of the Mountains. It -became his wont to greet Jacinto, when he stumbled across him in the -great bare house, with a look of savage admiration and the words: - -"Ah, here is the wolf-cub! And how are the fangs to-day, hungry scrawny -one?" - -Upon a time, Don Jaime, his hand still in bandages, discovered Jacinto -alone in the dusky library, bent over a quaint old account of the -battles and triumphs of the swineherd Pizarro. - -"When did you learn to read, son of a mangy she-wolf?" asked the doctor -in great surprise. - -"When I was but five. My mother taught me letters. She is a woman of -honest birth and of education," answered Jacinto proudly. "When she was -a child, she was sent to the convent of Santa Ursola in Granada." - -"And what do you think of this swashbuckler, Pizarro? He robbed the -Indians of their golden suns and chalices and their silver bars, without -morality and without ruth, did he not? But--do you think him cruel?" - -The boy nodded his head slowly. Then with the oldish quaintness of a -book-bitten child, he explained: - -"I do think him cruel, mi senor don. But he would not have been Pizarro -had he been soft-handed and pitiful. He led three hundred and fifty -Spanish caballeros and four thousand Indians deep into the cordilleras. -About him were the millions of the Inca Empire. If he had been less -brave, less strong, less cruel, those many Peruvians would have swirled -about him like the waters of an ocean, and engulfed him and his poor few -Conquistadores. But he knew how to be most cruel. That was why he -conquered. That was why he was altogether the great captain!" - -When first he discovered Jacinto in his library, Don Jaime had been of -the mind to send him bundling, and to lock the door between the peasant -boy and his precious old books. Now he turned about abruptly, said -"Humph!" and went thoughtfully away. - -At last, came an arriero to take Jacinto Quesada back to Minas de la -Sierra. She stood beside the mule upon which Jacinto mounted, the -golden-haired little Felicidad, and held up her small fat hands for him -to kiss. The hidalgo doctor watched his departure from the dark of the -doorway. He looked after the great dust-cloud on the brown road for a -long time. - -"The Little Wolf!" he muttered in his morose way. "He was as famished -for knowledge as he was for food. He would have gone blind if he -lingered in my library much longer. To see him rip the entrails out of -Bernal Diaz's 'Cortes' and the Lives of Balboa, De Soto, Coronado--what -a joy! He has eyes of gold for seeing things clearly--for seeing beyond -good and evil. And he has a heart of fire, he has gusto, that Spanish -boy! _Pizarro was cruel, but he was great, he was magnificent, because -he was cruel!_ What a Spanish answer! - -"_Por los Clavos de Cristo!_ he will go far, that mountain brat! He will -be a great realist and philosopher like Cervantes. Or he will be a great -dramatist like Lope de Vega. Or a great poet or statesman. Or a great -captain like the Conquistadores whose lives he studied with such gusto -and whose strength he analyzed with such clear-sightedness!" - -Then Don Jaime smiled very bitterly. For the moment he had forgotten -that his Jacinto Quesada had been born a Spaniard of the people. He -swore a vile oath. - -"But no, he will be none of those things!" he said. "_Cascaras!_ I am -becoming an old driveling fool." - -Don Jaime knew that God smiles sardonically upon the Spaniard of the -people who seeks to rise in the world. He knew that, just as the United -States is a country of unlimited opportunities, just so is Spain a -country of opportunities limited and few. The Spaniard of the people, -strong with heart and gusto, has but two careers open to him. By those -two careers and those two careers only, can your ambitious Iberian -attain to fame and fortune, and stand greatly above his countrymen. - -"He will become a bullfighter, perhaps!" said Don Jaime. - -Every man and boy in Spain is an _aficionado_, a bullfight "fan," a -frantic bullfight "bug." The successful bullfighter, be he matador, or -murderer of bulls, or only a _peon_ of the _cuadrilla_, is given rich -food with which to garnish his belly; he learns how gold feels when it -is minted into money; his photographs are purchased by romantic -_señoritas_; and wherever he goes, he is followed by crowds of tattered -street urchins who studiously and hopefully ape his swagger. The whole -universe salves and butters him with admiration and envy; and he, the -popular _picador_ or the distinguished _espada_, is in many ways more -truly a king of Spain than is Alfonso the King. Jacinto Quesada, he of -the heart of fire and the great gusto, might become a bullfighter. - -But suddenly Don Jaime remembered that the little Jacinto was a boy of -the desolate mountains. He could never see the great bullfights of the -cities of the plains, those great bullfights so golden with glamor. -Hence never would be waked in him the ambition to become a bullfighter. - -"_Ea pucs!_" said Don Jaime with grimness. "Well, then! There is naught -for my Jacinto to do but to become a _bandolero_!" - -The bandolero sells no photographs of himself; he goes houseless in the -wind and rain; he bites upon gold coins but rarely; he is hunted -persistently by the Spanish police. And yet, from day to day, his deeds -have their place in the Hispanic newspapers; he is the hero of a -thousand household stories and ballads; the people give him the fat of -the countryside to eat; the people love him more even than once they -loved that greatest of all bullfighters, the negro Frascuelo! - -"Quita!" exclaimed Don Jaime, chuckling. "God forbid!" It had struck him -that he might live to the day when people would say in his hearing: -"Jacinto Quesada? Ah, he is good, he is brave, he is like the very God -Himself. Watch over him in the mountains, Mary, Queen of Angels! and -protect him from the Guardia Civil and from treachery!" And he, -Torreblanca y Moncada, the prophet who, years before, had seen his -vision, would laugh and they would wonder why he laughed. - -A bandolero is a Spanish highwayman, a Spanish Dick Turpin, a Spanish -Robin Hood. He is a man of a type altogether extinct in countries less -backward than Spain. In Spain the type has persisted for five hundred -years and still continues to persist. In Spain the type is obstinate, -ineradicable. - -José Maria was a Spanish bandolero. Diego Corrientes, he who was loved -by a duchess, was a Spanish bandolero. And Spanish bandoleros were Visco -el Borje, Agua-Dulce, Joaquin Camargo, nicknamed El Vivillo, and -Pernales, the blond beast of prey. The bandolero is the blight of Spain. -But countries that have been exploited by Spaniards are also affected -with the Spanish blight. A bandolero of Mexico is Zapata. And a Mexican -bandolero is Pancho Villa, too. - -One wintry gloaming of Jacinto Quesada's thirteenth year, there entered -Minas de la Sierra, a ruddy-haired, blue-eyed, burly man on horseback. He -was clad in weather-worn corduroys; a week's golden stubble was on his -broad, sunburned face; and his body smelled sourly of sweat. He guided -his horse with his knees and heels. In both hands he held half-raised a -Mauser carbine. - -The horse halted under the cork-oak, but the man did not dismount. He -sat looking slowly from right to left, from left to right, along the -village street. Presently he shouted: - -"Hola, _mis paisanos_! Why do you not come out to greet me?" - -With trembling and hesitation they came forth from their doorways. They -were like so many wary brown lizards stealing out from their rocks. They -formed a tongue-tied ring about the quiet horseman and eyed him with -awe. - -"I desire food," said he shortly. - -"It is our wish to serve you, _maestro_," said Antonio Villarobledo, -speaking for the rest. "You shall have the best of our poor lean -store." - -Then spoke up Carlos Machado, a showy and presumptuous man. - -"Come to my house with me. I have a stew of lentils!" - -"But I have a _puchero_!" another bid. "Come with me, _Gran Caballero_." - -Suddenly a woman who had been hiding in her doorway ran out into the -street, crying shrilly: - -"Do not listen to these selfish stingy Moors, maestro! Come with me--I -will kill a pullet for you, the last of my lot! Come with me, I beg you, -_caballerete_! To ask you to be my guest, I have the supreme right. My -husband was the last man of the village to be murdered by the Guardia -Civil!" - -Carlos Machado and certain others turned wrathful faces toward Juan -Quesada's widow. But she had, indeed, the supreme right, and they dared -make no objection when the corduroy-clad _cabalgador_ said most -heartily: - -"Well spoken, woman! I will go with you. Your husband shall not have -been murdered in vain and your pullet lived to no good purpose!" - -Then he laughed in the faces of the others and said with sudden -imperiousness: - -"Bring your lentils and your puchero to the widow's casa, mis paisanos! -My appetite is the most gorgeous appetite in Spain, and all you have -will not be too much for me. Besides you will do well to fat me up, you -Spaniards!" - -He dismounted and followed Jacinto Quesada's mother, giving instructions -to certain of the villagers as to how they should water and fodder his -horse. - - - - -CHAPTER III - - -When his mother went out on the mountainside to catch and to kill the -last surviving chicken, Jacinto Quesada went with her both to lend her a -hand and to ask her a question. She held the pullet to the block and -Jacinto raised the axe. Then, the axe poised aloft, Jacinto asked: - -"Who is this rough burly man to whom the people do such honor?" - -"He is the great Pernales!" - -The axe descended; blood spattered the faces of the two; the head of the -pullet lay free from the body and still; the body flapped about in a -manner outrageous and vile. Said Jacinto, after a moment: - -"Pernales, the bandolero?" - -"_Si, si!_ Pernales, the bandolero, him hunted forever by the men of the -Guardia Civil!" - -"But why do not the men of the Guardia Civil murder him as they murdered -our poor Juanito?" - -"Art thou a dullard, child! Thy father was a mere contrabandista. Thy -father wished only to be left undisturbed by the police. He was a coward -at heart as are most Spaniards who turn dishonest that they might eat. -He suffered himself to be captured without a struggle; there was no -murder in his bowels!" - -She swept on with true Latin eloquence and fervor: - -"But this Pernales! The men of the Guardia Civil fear Pernales as they -do not fear men of your poor father's sort. He is muscled like a -leopard; he is long of arm; he is deep-loined; and the strength of him -is like the strength of the first Spaniard, Hispanus, the son of -Hercules. But there is more to him than mere body strength! He is -possessed of a strength above body strength, a strength beyond body -strength. He is strong in his soul! - -"He is strong to live; he is strong to conquer; he is strong to make men -die. The bandoleros are all like that. They are arrogant, imperious, -absolute. They are like our ancestors, the Cristinos Viejos, the Old -Rusty Christians, they who eradicated the Moors from Spain. They are -like our ancestors, the Celtiberians, they who bathed in the urine of -horses that they might grow hard and muscular, they who asked for no -quarter in battle and who gave none. - -"A man to be a bandolero must have entrails of iron. This Pernales is of -the right guts. He likes nothing better than to meet a policeman alone -in the hills and to fight him to the death. The men of the Guardia Civil -would capture and slay him if they could; but when they come up to him -on the high road, he turns and gives battle with laughter and taunt, -with ardor, strength, desperation, and ferocity! Never does he hesitate -or falter when comes the supreme moment--the moment when his weakness -says 'Be merciful!' and his strength says 'Kill thou, Pernales!'" - -His mother sped into the house, but Jacinto stood by the dripping block, -immersed in thought. - -Presently Jacinto Quesada sat on his little stool in the far corner of -the great fireplace and watched the bandolero eat. What huge teeth he -had and how white they were! Over each mouthful the whole broad face -worked, the lips and cheeks making a dozen grimaces, the jaws snapping -and grinding. - -Every little while, the bandolero mumbled from a full mouth some -question. He seemed much interested in the murdered Juanito. But it was -almost as though he considered poor Juanito's death a humorous mishap; -at certain of the widow's remarks he laughed roughly, and his laughter -stormed through the cabana like a wind through one of the boulder-strewn -passes overhead. - -An hour later he was astride his horse again and riding down the -goat-path that dropped away from Minas de la Sierra and wound through -the lower gorges. It is never the habit of the bandolero to linger in a -_pueblo_ or village longer than a very short time; most sensational and -brief and furtive are his visits. - -There was a fat and brilliant moon, that night. It was as though a snow -had fallen, the heads and shoulders of the mountains were so white. Down -into the dark moaning gorges, one could see a great distance. - -Pernales walked his horse very slowly, for the path led along the sheer -of a precipice. But while he kept a vigilant eye on the way ahead, ready -to throw himself toward the wall of the gorge should the nag stumble on -a loose stone, or shy from the path, and plunge screaming into -nothingness, Pernales continually cast wary quick glances toward the -crags and boulders overhead, and continually bent his ear back the way -he had come. It was almost as though he feared an ambush in that lonely -perilous place. It was almost as if, at any moment, he expected men of -the Guardia Civil to rise from behind every rock, and the command of the -Guardia Civil to sound in his ears: - -"_Alto a la Guardia Civil!_" - -He rounded a great rock that threatened to tear from its moorings down -into the winding gorge below. Abruptly he halted his horse and his -carbine came up. A long tense hush. Then suddenly he exploded: - -"Who are you that stands beside the way?" - -Came the answer in a child's thin voice: - -"Jacinto Quesada!" - -Minas de la Sierra was a long distance above and far back in the -sierras. With great surprise the bandolero recognized the child to whom -he had waved a hand and called a laughing "á Dios" some time before. - -"Are you alone?" The carbine still threatened. - -"See for yourself, maestro! But I am altogether alone." - -The bandolero rode nearer. When the horse shouldered up, the little -Jacinto was compelled to squeeze into the very crevices of the rock -wall, so narrow was the path. - -From his lofty seat on the big, rawboned black horse, Pernales looked -down at the son of the widow Quesada and measured, with his eyes, the -boy's extreme youthfulness and preposterous lack of strength and size. -Jacinto was only thirteen years old. - -What he saw altogether reassured Pernales. His blue eyes twinkled; he -smiled; he grinned, his lips working and twitching; and at last he broke -out in a frank and free burst of laughter. - -"Cascaras!" he roared, between guffaws. "How came you here, lively -little one? Have you the sharp hoofs of the ibex to gallop you from crag -to crag, across gorges and _gargantas_ and all? Or have you the griffon -vulture's wings that you may fly over mountains? You are no real flesh -and blood child! You are a sprite, a--" - -Jacinto Quesada, imperious with a great desire, brushed his bantering -words aside. Trembling with eagerness, he cried: - -"Take me with you, Pernales! I would be a bandolero, too! Lift me up -behind you on your horse, and I will go with you through Spain and be -your _compañero_ and your _dorado_--your golden one, your trustworthy -one! Take me with you, please, please, Pernales!" - -The bandolero did not credit his own ears. He was too astounded to -laugh. - -"Hola!" he gasped. "What is this now? You, my chicken, would be a -bandolero! And you came all the way down here to recruit with me! Por -los Clavos de Cristo!" - -Then soberly and slyly, for he was beginning to see good fun in the -little fellow: - -"But do you not know that it is a rule, a convention, of us good -bandoleros to ride alone? Solitary and single-handed, we are safer and -stronger than if a troop of cabalgadores surrounded us. There is no one -so swift and slippery and elusive as a bandolero who rides alone, and -no one so free from fear of treachery--he trusts no man and no man he -dreads." - -"True. You understand your business, I see," said Jacinto Quesada. - -He was only thirteen; yet he spoke slowly, with deliberation and -discernment and a great air of mannish profundity. He had got something -from Don Jaime's books, this mountaineer's bantling! - -"But there are times," he qualified, "when even the most superb -bandolero needs assistance in some serious and signal business. Have you -not yourself a _dorado_, a _camarada_, who rides with you on your -greater crimes, the Nino de Arahal? Certain folk have told me of the -Nino; they said he shared the glory of those enterprises which made -imperative a show of numbers and strength; do not tell me these folk -lied! I had hoped to dispossess this camarada and dorado of yours, this -Nino de Arahal, and to attain to the envied place down from which I -threw him headlong! - -"But the Nino," he added, arrogating to himself judicial authority--"let -us forget him! Za! he is only an insignificant frog! Your wish to ride -unhindered and alone, of that I would speak! Maestro, when I become your -dorado, we will ride together always, for we will commit only imposing -and glorious crimes!" - -Said Pernales softly: - -"But how would you dispossess the Nino de Arahal?" - -"I would pit against the huge gorilla's head of the Little One of -Arahal, my head of gold for thinking quick thoughts and audacious ones. -I would displace him and replace him by my natural superiority of brain. -But if that were not enough--Carajo! I would lock knives with him, I -would lunge and slash and rip and stab with my _navaja_, while he tore -and stabbed and slashed and lunged with his, until one or the other of -us gushed out his life through his wounds and was dead!" - -Then it was that Pernales laughed so that the very canyon roared and -rang. He rolled back his head; he clapped his hands to his stomach; he -opened his mouth to its widest stretch; and he guffawed so tremendously -that the horse beneath him staggered and almost overbalanced from the -wall. He was Olympian in his laughter. - -And why not laugh? Did he not see in his mind's eye the gigantic ruffian -nicknamed the Nino de Arahal locked with this stripling, this barefoot -child, this suckling babe? Za! The Nino would make ten of him! _Zape!_ -The Nino would swallow him at a mouthful! It was preposterous! It was so -funny, he cared not a peseta if he laughed himself to death! - -But suddenly, through his laughter, slid Jacinto Quesada's low-toned -words: - -"But if he were altogether too huge and brawny for me to murder in open -combat, then I would murder him in some hidden, treacherous way. -Treachery is the strength of the weak who are yet strong. If there be no -other way, the superior brain resorts to treachery for the superior -brain is invincible. While I am still weak of body, I will not disdain -to use treachery! - -"And, man, man, I warn you! Do not continue to laugh at me! You have -laughed quite enough at me, Pernales! Cease laughing this instant! -Quick! Straighten your face, or _Porvida_! the Manchegan knife I have -with me, I will use on your horse. I will rip open his belly; and he, -with you upon him, will go bounding off the path and fall head over -heels down into the abyss!" - -Instantly Pernales sobered. His face set into an emotionless mask; his -teeth clenched together with an audible click; his eyes became hard as -blue bright pebbles. Without seeming to do so, he looked down at the -child's hands; and true! there was in those hands a huge, flat-bladed -dagger, a dagger of La Mancha. The child was turning it over and over, -and studying it with a pensive interest. - -Deep within himself, Pernales laughed ironically at his own -discomfiture. He could not use the carbine. Without chancing the great -risk of sending his horse recoiling and reeling off the path, he could -not strike down the child with a blow of his fist! And the child had but -to turn aside his gun or dodge his hard fist, and crouch out of harm's -way beneath the horse's barrel. Then might he strike up with the dagger, -and the horse would make the breakneck plunge as surely as he would -scream when stabbed. - -"Jacinto Quesada," said Pernales bitterly, "you have caught Pernales in -a pretty deadfall! Use your knife; then go for the Guardia Civil and -guide a brace of policemen to where my body lies on the bottom of the -gorge, and there awaits you the money offered for my head! Cascaras! I -judged you altogether too superficially; I was too contemptuous!" - -Quietly Jacinto Quesada put the Manchegan knife back in his belt. - -"I forbear to strike," said he, "since you have confessed your fault. -Now, soberly and with due respect, give me your answer. Will you take me -with you?" - -A gleam of admiration lit the eye of Pernales. - -"Jacinto Quesada," he said, "you are no child. You have shown -resolution, force, finality; you are altogether masculine, altogether -_varonil_; you are a man! Therefore, as one man to another, I say: No, I -cannot take you with me!" - -Pernales now was very serious. - -"To be my dorado, it is not enough that you have a full-grown soul. You -must have a full-grown body; and your body is still the puny, soft-boned -body of a child. If you rode away with me, you of the weak body, your -strong soul might be sacrificed to the Nino de Arahal or the Guardia -Civil. And that--God forbid! - -"Let us look at this matter like two sensible Moors. Don Eduardo Miura, -let us suppose, has a young fighting bull of extraordinary promise. At -the _Tentaderos_ (the breeders' private bullfight, when the young bulls -are ranked according to their merit as fighting animals), this youngster -shows superb courage and astounding ferocity. But he is only two years -old; and five years old must be the age of Don Eduardo's animals before -he exhibits them in the Plaza de Toros. Does Don Eduardo make an -exception of this unique bull, does he allow him because of his -astounding ferocity to have a premature début in the bull-ring? Name of -God, no! Not even if he be as magnificent with meat as the most mature -seven-year-old! - -"Jacinto Quesada, quickly I have grown to love your strong soul--I have -grown to love your strong soul too much. And that is why I say, I cannot -take you with me. No! Porvida, no! But, if you are resentful, use your -knife and send me whirling down into the gorge. Proceed! I care not a -peseta what you do." - -Jacinto Quesada stood motionless as a rock, thinking deeply. Something -in the boy's downcast attitude moved Pernales to pity. - -"Do not despair, my fire-hearted, _arrogante_ little man," he said -presently. "I have said no; this time my no is absolute; but I shall not -say no to you, should I pass this way again when you are more fully -grown. Some day, I promise you, I shall again pass this way, and then if -you are still of the mind to be my dorado, you may join out with me and -we will murder the men of the Guardia Civil together, two sworn -compañeros. Meanwhile, grow brawny, grow brave, grow high-handed. There -will always be room in Spain for haughty resolute ones like you!" - -"I accept the promise given," said Jacinto Quesada. "And I do not ask -you to swear to return for me--a word is enough between men. Now, -knowing you will come back, I will compose myself and wait. A child is -impetuous and fretful; a man is implacable yet patient." - -"Son of the widow Quesada," returned Pernales magnificently, "on the -promise given and taken, let us strike hands! With a handshake, like two -true Spaniards, we will bind the bargain." - -Jacinto Quesada took his hand off the hilt of his Manchegan navaja and -gripped claws with the bandolero. A certain note of solemnity thrilled -through the moment. - -The bandolero started on. - -"Go thou with God, compañero!" said Jacinto Quesada. - -"Grow big, grow strong, thou!" said the great Pernales. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - - -Jacinto Quesada grew bigger, stronger. But he suffered more with -ambition than with growing pains. Ambition is the seed of greatness, but -the seed cannot germinate and bourgeon without giving agony and labor to -the soil in which it is nurtured. - -Pernales did not again pass that way. Three months had not intervened, -since the promise to return had been given, when the great bandolero was -murdered for the reward by a Gallego on a lonely hill-road in the -Asturias--shot through the head at forty yards. - -Now, if never could Jacinto Quesada ride with Pernales, then by the -Life! he would ride alone. - -When at last he attained to manhood, he went down the mountains, stole a -carbine and a horse, and became a bandolero errant and free. - -He had hands of gold, that fire-hearted Spanish boy, for sticking up a -troop of caballeros and their ladies out for a _merienda_ or a -bull-baiting on the parched plains about Madrid. And he had hands of -gold for sticking up a diligence full of notables in the savage defiles -of the Sierra de Guadalupe or the Sierra de Gredos or the Sierra de -Guadarrama. And he had courage and originality. Why, he was still a mere -novice as a bandolero, an apprentice hand, a _novillero_, when he took -it into that round, young, handsome and arrogant Spanish head of his to -way-lay and loot the Seville-to-Madrid Express! - -Spanish highwaymen, you must know, are not in the habit of holding up -passenger trains. To way-lay a lone muleteer in the mountains, to halt -and rob a party of itinerant guitarists and dancers, or to pillage the -_hacienda_ of a rich rural cattle breeder are the conventional things to -do. But to hold up the Seville-to-Madrid--it is unthinkable, it is not -the will of God! Spanish highwaymen prefer to do less spectacular deeds -and to live to see their grandchildren. - -In the province of Ciudad Real, the Seville-to-Madrid Express crosses -the river Zancura by means of a safe and modern steel cantilever bridge -built by Le Brun, a French engineer. And a half hour before it reaches -this steel bridge, the Seville-to-Madrid crosses another bridge, a -bridge over a small tributary of the Zancura which is dry three fourths -of the year. This bridge is not of steel; it is timbered. It was never -built by Le Brun; it is flimsy, weather-worn, and liable to give under -any unusual strain. It is called the Arroyo Seco Bridge. - -Here, where the Arroyo Seco lies like a great brown gutter across the -world, are the high _parameras_ of La Mancha. There are no more desolate -and lonely uplands in all Spain. Swarthy, sun-scorched and thirsty, they -torture the eye with dusty dun distances and prone dun lines. You would -think it an altogether unlikely place for a bandolero to stage a -hold-up. - -And here, a hundred yards below the Arroyo Seco bridge and close beside -the railroad track, waited Jacinto Quesada one hot, dry, windless -afternoon. He was seated upon a small sleek mouse-colored Manchegan -pony. He wore corduroy leggins, a sheepskin _zamarra_, and a Cordovan -sombrero that had once been white. His dress was that of the typical -Manchegan herdsman. He looked like any one of the hundred or more -vaqueros who lived the wild lonely life of the cattle country -roundabout. - -The Seville-to-Madrid showed in the southwest. Like a somber black snake -it crawled slowly forward--like a black snake laggard and heavy after a -great dinner of mice. - -Spanish passenger trains are altogether unlike American passenger -trains, for American passenger trains eat up distances like the brazen -cars of old Northern gods. The passenger trains of Spain are most -deliberate and slow. They halt for ten minutes at every wayside station, -for no better reason than to allow the passengers to alight, unlimber -their legs, and smoke the eternal cigarette. They are the very crawling -snails of the earth! - -Of course, the Seville-to-Madrid was an express, a through train. But -you may be sure she was no fast train except when viewed through Spanish -eyes. At fifteen miles the hour, morosely it crawled on. It neared the -waiting Jacinto Quesada and, fearful of the flimsy wooden bridge beyond, -slackened its pace to a painful glacier-slow flow. - -As the wheezing locomotive lumbered up, Jacinto Quesada, with knees and -one hand, held the shuddering pony motionless beside the track. The -other hand he raised aloft. Pointedly, his eyes turned to that upraised -hand; then to the locomotive's cab; then significantly, to the upflung -hand once again. - -The engine driver, one arm extended to the throttle, a blue-smoking -cigarette between his lips, leaned far out the cab and looked down at -the uplifted hand of Jacinto Quesada. In that significantly uplifted -hand of Jacinto Quesada was an unlighted cigarette. - -Now, an American engineer would have passed unheeding by, with perhaps a -curse for Jacinto Quesada as an arrant fool. Again, a French engineer -might have called back: "It is a pleasure!" and thrown down a paper of -matches. For, as it was plain to see, Jacinto Quesada was requesting, in -pantomime, a spark to ignite his hopelessly dead slim cylinder of -tobacco. - -But the Spanish engine driver did neither of those two things. It is not -that the Iberians are not as polite as the French; they are more polite -and altogether more ceremonious. Know you that in Spain, and also in -Mexico, it is considered something of an insult to proffer a man matches -when he requests a light of you and you yourself are smoking. It is as -though you consider him socially beneath you, when you proffer him -matches. - -The locomotive lumbered by. But the engine driver crowded forward on his -seat; his arms worked; the whistle shrieked. And the train groaned and -jolted, roared and banged to a full stop. - -Passengers telescoped themselves out of windows, some knocked all -a-scramble by the sudden halt, others pale and frightened. Those heads -that protruded from fortunate windows saw the engine driver clamber down -from his high turret, a lighted cigarette in his hand. And they saw spur -forward to meet him, the dusty vaquero, in his mouth a cigarette that -was dead. - -The vaquero flung himself from his pony. He and the engine driver drew -together. A hand of each met, became entwined. Their heads leaned close, -the cigarettes between their teeth touching ends. - -Suddenly the engine driver staggered away from the vaquero, his jaw -dropping, his cigarette falling unheeded to the ground. A huge -long-barrelled revolver in the hand of the vaquero was nuzzling his -umbilicus. - -"_Aupa!_" shouted the vaquero harshly. "Up!" - -Prodding his belly persistently, the vaquero followed him back, step by -step. The engine driver was suddenly enlightened. It was all a piece of -herdsmen's buffoonery, a monstrous practical joke! - -"Benito!" he roared, addressing his stoker in the cab above. "Benito, -look down! Here is a vaquero who thinks himself a _salteador de camino_, -a bandolero like the poor dead Pernales or that new man, Jacinto -Quesada! _Por los Clavos de Cristo!_ what a fool's idea!" - -Then to the vaquero. "Don't you know I have no time for horseplay, you -silly one, you buffoon, you? You are making yourself liable to arrest!" - -"I am the new man, Jacinto Quesada!" said Jacinto Quesada with -politeness and reserve. Then, "Aupa, aupa!" - -"Jacinto Quesada--Almighty God!" gasped the engine driver. Only he made -it, "_Todopoderoso Dio!_" and he groaned it out slowly. - -But with great alacrity he put up his hands. - -Then after a moment, stuttering with fright, he commenced objecting. - -"But caballerete--but Don Jacinto--" - -"What would you?" - -"But you cannot hold up the Seville-to-Madrid! No one ever holds up the -Seville-to-Madrid! And besides, you are alone!" - -"But I am not alone," returned Jacinto Quesada. - -Nor was he. Out of the Arroyo Seco, a hundred yards up the track, three -men as drab and dusty as he had poked their dishevelled heads. - -Shouted Quesada, "_Adelante_, mis dorados! The stew is ready, approach -the bowl! Forward, my golden ones!" - - - - -CHAPTER V - - -The Golden Ones approached at a run, showing in their hands carbines of -no recent fashion. They were rough-bearded fellows of impetuous courage -but of little skill or fame; reckless scapegraces whom he had picked up, -on the plains and in the mountains, to reinforce him in this most -pretentious and uncommon hold-up. - -After the consummation of the deed, they would go their ways and he his. -Like most Spanish _bandoleros en grande_, Jacinto Quesada preferred, -whenever he could, to keep his heels clean of confederates and -coadjutors; he preferred to hold himself aloof and solitary. However, -they were his compañeros for the nonce; for the nonce, they were his -dorados, his golden, his trustworthy ones. - -One of them clambered up into the cab after the fireman, Benito. The -rest, under the supervision of Jacinto Quesada, proceeded to turn inside -out the Seville-to-Madrid. - -Pretentious train robberies are forever much alike. Save that those -waylaid and despoiled were Spaniards, and Spaniards are eternally -themselves, and their souls glow frankly and incandescently out through -their bodies in everything they do, the hold-up of the Seville-to-Madrid -was like an American train robbery, like a train robbery anywhere. - -The mail coach was first disposed of. Then the highwaymen turned their -attention to the passengers. In a jostling, milling, frightened drove -on the open plain to the right of the stalled coaches, the passengers -were herded by the four taciturn workmanlike bandoleros. Then one by one -each passenger was led forward from the rest and searched for money and -valuables. - -Those who were cowardly, quaked and walked knock-kneed, their mouths -stuttering rapid prayers. Those who were courageous but overawed, -clenched their teeth in their lips, held their eyes pasted upon the -bandoleros, and did silently and with utter obedience that which they -were told to do. Those who were weak, wept. Few words were said, yet the -faces of all were as a loudly chanted litany of dreads. - -Jacinto Quesada took little part in the searching; he left that to his -journeymen. He stood aloof, his revolver in hand, his eyes studying -pensively, as they were put to the search, the demeanor of the brave and -the base. - -Many of the herded and driven and robbed wondered at this boy with no -vestige of hair on his smooth brown cheeks. They did not know him. They -thought Jacinto Quesada, he who had begun making such a great noise -through Spain, one of the bearded, black-visaged, older men. - -First to be led forward and made to deliver was a traveler for a -Barcelona manufactory. Then came two brokers who had been speeding about -Spain to make contracts on the grape, olive, orange, and apricot crops. -Then came a wine taster, one cork grower, and three cattle breeders; and -then a troupe of Gitanos, Gypsy musicians and dancers of the -metropolitan cafés. And these having been plucked in their proper -sequence, there was led forward a wisp of black-clad nuns. - -Jacinto Quesada stepped forward and took off his hat to the nuns. He -motioned that they should be brought back to their old places without -suffering the sacrilege of search, and he said, "Your pardon, Ladies of -God!" - -Then was led forward a foreign looking man, a globe-trotter who had been -traveling alone. He was big, broad-shouldered, fair-haired and as -smooth-shaven as any bullfighter. He was square of face, his jaw was a -round resolute knob, and his eyes were blue and hinted of being quick to -laugh. Struck by the foreign look of the man, Jacinto Quesada stepped -forward once again and, with an air of ingenuous curiosity, asked, "You -are a Frenchman, are you not?" - -It is a fact that most Spaniards mistake all foreigners for either -Frenchmen or Englishmen. And they never can distinguish between persons -of the two races. - -Answered the outlander, "I am neither, _muchacho_. I am what you -Spaniards call a _Yanqui_, a _Norte Americano_." - -"Cascaras! You are one of those who gave Spain such a great beating a -few years ago and robbed us of Cuba and the Philippines. Thorough and -impudent salteadores de camino, you Yanquis seem to me! But sometimes it -does a person or a country good to be beaten and robbed. Spain is the -better for having had her buttocks soundly spanked; and the Philippines -and Cuba--zut! they were ulcers on her flesh, and Spain is sincerely -thankful she submitted to the surgeon's knife, now that the thing is -done!" - -At the philosophical and rather elevated tone of the boy, the American -raised his eyebrows in surprise. Yet he had traveled in Spain some -months already, and he should have been used to Spanish logic and -Spanish eloquence. - -The race of the Cristinos Viejos is an old, old race, full of salt and -masculinity and knowledge that is not to be acquired in schools. In a -country where any peasant will argue or exchange racy jokes with Alfonso -and even slap him on the back in the ensuing hurly-burly of merriment, -where a hidalgo will eat with his coachman, and a beggar light his -cigarette from that of a bishop, how otherwise than the way Jacinto -Quesada talked, would a man of the people talk? - -So this was the notorious Jacinto Quesada, he whom all Spain had -commenced talking about! Smiling a smile of appreciation, the American -said: - -"I think you are very well right about the recent war. You Spaniards are -certainly long on common sense. But you are young to be a philosopher, -Don Jacinto." - -At least, that was what he tried to say. But he was speaking in Spanish -and he was not altogether at home in the idioms of the language. -However, Jacinto Quesada got his meaning. - -He felt pleased, did Jacinto Quesada, to be called a philosopher. With a -smile he remembered the ferocious way of thinking which had caused him, -when a child, to seek to be the dorado of the poor dead Pernales--that -savage philosophy which had finally moved him to become a bandolero. He -was not nearly so impetuous and fiery and bigoted a youngster as then; -he was more serene, more Apollonian, more pensively thoughtful. - -But the American was speaking. Thinking to be polite and, at the same -time, rid his system of a sally typically American in humor, he said, -"It is pleasant to meet a Spaniard like you!" - -Quesada caught the inference. He smiled, showing his clean white teeth, -and returned, "It is pleasant to rob you, senor!" - -And he added, struck with surprise that a man could joke while in such -an awkward and even perilous position, and startled by his surprise into -admiration and wonder: - -"To know you, caballero, is to know why your countrymen won the recent -war. You are a man of the great bravery; you are as brave as the very -God Himself!" - -Your American is forever afraid lest he be made the butt of irony and -ridicule, the target of satire and sarcasm. His very self-consciousness -indicates how vulnerable he is to others' opinions of him; and his -extreme reserve is only a cloak worn eternally to mask the weakness. -This particular American changed countenance as he had never changed -countenance when menaced by the bandoleros' carbines; he went white and -cold, his eyes flashed angrily. And sharply, he exploded: - -"Why do you say that?" - -"Because you do not recoil from the rough touch of my dorados; because -your eye fearlessly meets my eye; because you talk without falter and -without affected ease; because you act like a man who is a man!" -explained Jacinto Quesada with sincerity. And to clinch the argument, he -added, Spaniard-like, "I am utterly brave myself. Do you think I cannot -recognize men of my own kind?" - -The American fidgeted, blushed slightly, and smiled a very rueful smile. - -"But why, if I am so very brave," he countered, "did I not rebel and -kill some of you when your men herded me out on the prairie with the -rest, and then yanked me forward to pick my pockets? There is a Colt's -automatic in my hip pocket, but you'll notice I have not used it!" - -"A brave man is not necessarily a brave fool like the hidalgo don, -Quixote of La Mancha," returned Quesada shortly. "You Americans are a -sentimental race." - -Then, turning to one of the searchers, he ordered, "Relieve the Yanqui -caballero of the pistol that is such a temptation to him, Rafael Perez!" - -Presently, eager to have their turns and be done with the necessary -formalities, pressed forward a cuadrilla of bullfighters. A few of them -wore the ordinary street dress of men of the profession. They would be -known anywhere in Spain for bullfighters by their broad, stiff-brimmed, -low-crowned black hats and their black, tightly fitting clothes. - -The most of them were still in bull-ring costume, however. In the busy -months of the Taurine Season, when bullfights are almost daily events -and contracts must be fulfilled, the Brethren of the Coleta are kept -continually on the jump--rushing precipitantly from town to town, from -bull ring to railroad train and straightway again to bull ring--and they -have little or no time to change from bull ring costume into street -clothes and scarcely more time to spend in eating, sleeping, or doing -anything else than murdering bulls. Therefore, it is a habit with -bullfighters to railroad everywhere about the peninsula in full ring -regalia; and one often sees these athletes speeding, gorgeously clad, -over the desert _vegas_ or alighting at the depots of bullfight-crazy -towns. - -First to come forward was the espada, the dexterous with the sword, the -murderer of bulls, the man of death. - -Jacinto Quesada took one look at him, then with gusto cried, "Por los -Clavos de Cristo! if here is not the great Morales!" - -"_Seguramente_, yes, I am the great Morales!" returned the matador, -bowing in acknowledgment of the swift and hearty recognition. He wore -pink silk stockings, gold-braided green silk breeches, waistcoat, and -jacket, a white ruffled shirt, a crimson tie, and a black cap. He wore -the black rosette and ribbons of the matador in his _coleta_, his -queue--that long, thick, and sacred lock of hair all bullfighters wear -as the time-honored insignia of their ancient profession. - -He was not yet thirty. He was a little below the middle height. He had a -long body and short muscular legs. He was all iron and strength. And -his brown Andalusian face was the typical young bull fighter's face, -boyish, almost effeminate with its mild contours; a face made expressive -and pleasing by eyes soft, dark, thick-lashed and very brave; a face -that was the easily read table-of-contents of an honest, simple-souled, -intrepid man. - -Jacinto Quesada's eyes smiled, and his whole face beamed, as he looked -at him, for he recognized in this man whom he had long admired because -of his splendid courage in the bull ring a kindred spirit. - -"And how are the wife and the children, Manuel?" he asked. - -"Most excellent in health, thank you, Jacinto! And you? And your -family?" - -"Superb! But ah, Morales, what would I not give to be watching you -killing your bulls in the Seville bull ring at this moment, instead of -doing what I am--setting my dogs of ladrones upon you to rob you of your -hard-earned money! Say but the word, and you will be exempted from this -indignity!" - -"A thousand thanks; but no, I would rather not! It is too much honor!" - -"Too much honor for you, one of the three bravest men in Spain? You, -whom I have ridden fifty miles many times to see give the _suerte de -matar_, the stroke of death! Why, to sit in the sun and watch you -perform, I have ventured into Seville in disguise when the men of the -Guardia Civil were as thick about the bull ring as flea-bitten curs -about a camp of Gitanos; and I have counted the risk nothing!" - -"But if I am one of the three bravest men in Spain, as you say, who are -the others? Who is the second? Who is the third?" - -"The second! Can you not guess?" - -"Ah, _chispas_! yes. Yourself, Jacinto Quesada, of course!" - -"And the third?" - -The brow of the matador darkened with professional jealousy. Tentatively -he asked, "You do not mean the espada, Lagartijo, do you?" - -"No; I do not like Lagartijo's ceremoniousness and caution; I like only -_diestros_ of the good old charge-and-take-a-chance Sevillian school. I -mean that Yanqui traveler over there. He is like us two; he is an -iron-boweled man!" - -The bullfighter turned around and took a good look at the lone American. -Then he slapped his breeches and jacket and invited the bearded -salteadores to continue with the search. - -After the cuadrilla of bullfighters came a fat gray parish priest; then -several tourists from Central and South America; then a pretty flight of -rosy and demure young convent girls, bound northward under the vigilant -watch of two prim sallow _duennas_; and then a tall blond man with a -straw-colored mustache darkened and stiff with wax. - -It was palpable this man was no Spaniard. He was dressed with neatness, -even elegance. Strangely, his face looked much older than his lithe -athletic body. It was a sharp, clever face, but a peculiar ashy pallor -overspread it and, about the mouth, there were hard grim lines. The nose -was long, high-bridged, predatory. The eyes were slate-colored, small -and bright and furtive. They had a peculiar trick of drooping at the -outer corners, a trick that gave him a calculating and rather sinister -look. - -He had been traveling with his young wife, a very lovely slip of a girl. -Her turn was to come next. She stood at the edge of the muster of -people, looking after her foreign-looking husband with blue eyes oddly -eager rather than anxious. She was a golden-haired girl of the rare -Castilian blond type. She seemed made all of gold, ivory, and rose -petals. Among all those frightened people, she alone was without fear. -As she stood there, looking calmly about her, she seemed altogether the -innocent and trustful child; to all appearances she should have been -still in some Spanish convent, sequestered and secure--not abroad in the -world where there are bandoleros and even men of worse sorts. - -Her husband, the foreign-looking man, was about to be put to the search -when, aroused by something more than curiosity, Jacinto Quesada stepped -forward and asked brusquely, "You are a Frenchman?" - -"I am a Frenchman, _monseñor_." - -"And why, Frenchman, do you make signs with your hands to me?" - -With good reason Jacinto Quesada asked that question. Ever since he had -been singled out for the search, the Frenchman, looking everywhere but -at his hands, had been persistently making covert signals with those -hands. First he drew two fingers down across his left cheek; then he -made certain finger movements very like the word-spelling finger -movements of the deaf and dumb; and finally he stroked his throat and -Adam's apple with a certain lingering wistful care! - - - - -CHAPTER VI - - -The pale Frenchman looked full at Jacinto Quesada, and suddenly his -small slate-colored eyes blazed like sunlight on ice. - -"Do you not comprehend of the signs the meaning?" he asked sharply in -tolerable Spanish. - -"No." - -"Nor that which I desire you to understand when I do this thing?" - -Impetuously he stepped forward and grasped, with his right hand, the -right hand of Jacinto Quesada. What followed seemed only a most ardent -handshake. Then he dropped Quesada's hand and stepped back, assuming his -old passive pose. And only Quesada knew that there had passed between -them another signal--he alone knew that the Frenchman, on gripping his -hand, had tapped the wrist of that hand with his index finger twice. - -Rumpling his brow, the youthful bandolero consulted with himself for a -space. Then, his face clearing, decisively he said: - -"No, Frenchman, your signals to me have no meaning. It is, perhaps, that -I am not of sufficient knowledge; I am only a poor Moor of Andalusia, -you know. But what is the message you wish to convey by your cabalistic -signs? I am curious, senor; tell me in honest Spanish and interestedly I -shall listen." - -The tall blond Frenchman laughed ruefully under his waxed mustache. - -"As you do not comprehend my signs," he said, "to explain to you the -meaning would do me little good, I fear." - -Returned Quesada, somewhat disappointed, "You fear rightly, Frenchman!" - -He made a slight gesture of the hand. Two of his dorados seized the -Frenchman and proceeded to subject him to a rough overhauling. The -Frenchman grimaced with impotent rage and, narrowing his naturally small -calculating eyes, watched the searchers' every move with covert anxiety. - -Brusque, precipitant, hasty was that search. Very easily might it have -been more studied and thorough. But a gold watch, a few Spanish gold and -silver peseta pieces, two rings set with diamonds and an emerald -scarfpin were taken from him before he was liberated by the searchers. -The rings and the scarfpin were not plucked from his hands and necktie; -they were found deep in his pockets where he had hidden them, thinking -perhaps, to smuggle them past the bandoleros. - -At that, the emerald scarfpin was but a very ordinary jimcrack and the -diamonds of the two rings, though huge and pretentious, had the -dishonest and glassy look of paste imitations. Though but simple Moors, -even as they called themselves, the bandoleros were not so ingenuous as -to be deceived by them; and they wondered greatly why he had concealed -them with such pains. Remarked sarcastically one of the searchers, a -certain Ignacio Garcia, addressing Quesada: - -"The elegant French rooster has but a thinly lined crop, maestro!" - -He grasped the Frenchman's elbow and swung him about-face. Then he gave -him a shove toward the group already plucked and gutted, shouting -harshly, "Away with you, you false jewel! Pronto!" - -The Frenchman hastened to merge himself into the background. Once his -face was turned away from the bandoleros, his pebbly eyes sparkled with -profound relief; they sparkled with inconcealable joy; and he smiled a -superior triumphant smile. - -"Who comes next?" asked Jacinto Quesada, without much interest. - -"The beautiful young wife of the Frenchman, maestro. She, with the mouth -that is a nest for kisses!" And Rafael Perez pointed her out. - -"And it please you, you may come forward, Senora Dona!" in a carefully -softened voice called Pio Estrada, another of the searchers. Strange, -but her youth and beauty and high hidalgo look had moved the man to a -ruffian's attempt at courtesy and gentleness. - -As she made to step forward, Jacinto Quesada turned his eyes upon the -beautiful golden-haired girl and, for the first time, gave her a special -and particular scrutiny. - -"Hola!" he gasped. "What is this?" - -He stepped forward a step, his eyelids narrowed, his eyes gleaming; and -he shot toward her a second look, piercing, probing. It was as though he -were shocked and aroused, puzzled and confounded. While he looked -eagerly and long at her, he muttered: - -"What a resemblance! But no--it is not a resemblance. She is she -herself!" - -He moved slowly towards her as though drawn thence by an irresistible -influence. Suddenly he called out a name! - -"Felicidad!" - -On the barren, windless plain to the right of the stalled carriages, -they were all gathered, the bandoleros with their carbines, the -travelers so like a herd of cattle in a _rodeo_. Those passengers, -already searched and robbed, were in a separate group; they were -sequestered from those not yet searched and made to deliver. No sound -came across the everlasting flats but the low incessant chitter of the -desert-loving wheatears, little fuzzy fat birds that live among the -mimosa and the thorny acacia and the stunted ilex of that ugly and -desolate Manchega veldt. Out from the main drove of passengers moved -bravely the golden-haired girl. And then, a name was called, and the -windless air became suddenly electric with drama. - -The Frenchman's young wife moved forward, seemingly unaware of Jacinto -Quesada's call, of his now devouring gaze. Well, suddenly and all on the -moment, she turned about-face and started swiftly for the stalled train! - -It was altogether unexpected. She was not the first of her sex to be -singled out for the search; she had seen nuns and convent maids and even -Gitanas treated by the bandoleros with a respect and courtesy that -amounted almost to reverence; and yet, at the last instant, alarm and -trepidation had overcome her, it seemed. She was hysterical, perhaps; -almost insane with terror. - -Be that as it may, her unexpected and erratic performance caused an -echoing panic to sweep over the other passengers. Even the bandoleros -felt the contagion. Cursing excitedly, two of them started to pursue the -golden-haired girl, while the third, Rafael Perez, standing near -Quesada, raised his carbine and screamed hoarsely: - -"Come back here, you outrageous minx!" - -The crowd, momentarily free from the dread of the bandoleros, had -commenced an insensate shouting and milling. Now, had Perez fired off -the carbine, the whole hold-up might have ended then and there for the -bandoleros in an inglorious headlong rout. The passengers, already out -of thrall to the salteadores, would have risen in tumultuous, -uncontrollable fury at this firing on a defenseless woman. - -But Jacinto Quesada rose to the crisis and saved the situation. Excited -though he was, he sprung toward Perez, tore the carbine from his hands -and, pointing it at the crowd, shouted imperiously to his men: - -"Back, you fools, to your stations! Guard these people. Shoot any that -break away! And don't mind the girl! I'll bring her back--I, and no one -else!" - -Presto! and the bandoleros were back in their old positions, their -carbines sweeping the crowd. The imminent danger of stampede was -dissipated. The discipline of dread again prevailed. - -Handing the carbine back to Perez, Jacinto Quesada started after the -girl. She had fled without aim, without purpose, he thought, like a -frightened doe that cares not where she flees so long as she flees from -the huntsmen. Her panicky flight would do little good, however; a sort -of trap was the stalled train, not a refuge and sanctuary. - -The girl was just about to open the door of one of the third-class -coaches and fling herself therein when, all at once, she cast back a -look, first at her tall blond mustached husband, then at Quesada. -Strangely, her glances seemed to have become preposterously mixed. It -was a look of dread and loathing she threw back toward her husband; and -a look of entreaty and beseeching she sent toward the pursuing -bandolero! - -With his long mountaineer's legs, Jacinto Quesada sprinted to the train. -Hardly had the door of the third-class carriage closed behind the -golden-haired girl than he was at that door. Open he flung it and in he -burst. - -"Felicidad! Felicidad, _querida mia_, my darling! It is I, -Jacinto--Jacinto Quesada! You have naught to fear from me. And if you -had told me that he, the Frenchman, was your husband, I would not have -robbed him. Porvida! everything taken already shall be given him back. -And as for you, dear Felicidad--" - -She had backed herself against the door opposite. Now she came forward -swiftly, her face paling and flushing, her lip a-quiver. It was not as -though she were glad with sudden recognition: it was as though she were -terribly agitated by some deadly fear. She said, in a dry expressionless -tone: - -"I heard your name mentioned by some passenger as we were bundled from -the train, Jacinto, and ah! how grateful to God I was when I first saw -you, almost half an hour ago, standing among those ruffianly ladrones! I -remembered the time you saved me from my father's quirta--and I needed -you so much more, now! - -"All this long, long afternoon I prayed that something would -happen--anything, anything! God of my soul! how I prayed! But even after -I discovered you and realized that, for our childhood's sake, you would -protect me, it took all my courage and strength to flee from the crowd -and conceal myself here, where I could speak to you and not be spied -upon or suspected by that evil, that terrible man!" - -Almost in a whisper were her words spoken, but they crashed upon Jacinto -Quesada's brain like exploding, detonating shells. He reeled back, -overwhelmed, staggered, knocked all to pieces. He gasped: - -"Por los Clavos de Cristo! what is all this?" - -"Ah, _Maria purissima_! He does not understand! But all, I shall tell -him!"--and swiftly, precipitantly, the girl went on: - -"This Frenchman. He calls himself Jacques Ferou. He was the only one -that was kind to me and even until two hours ago, I thought I loved him. -We were to be married in Madrid to-night--but now--" - -"Then he is not already your husband! Carajo! I thought--" - -"No; we but eloped this morning. And now, I would not continue on with -him; I would turn back! I am afraid--afraid!" - -"But tell me all from the beginning. Your words turn my brain to a -stew!" - - - - -CHAPTER VII - - -Jacinto Quesada had known Felicidad's father, Don Jaime de Torreblanca y -Moncada; he had lived in the great, cold, dingy house near Granada; he -had tasted the secluded, lonely life of Felicidad. Therefore, she had -but to say a few sketchy rapid sentences and he comprehended the -beginning of everything. - -"Of late years, my father has become gradually poorer, Jacinto," she -said. - -Quesada nodded his head understandingly. Don Jaime had never refused his -physician's services to the poverty-stricken and wretched; and the -poverty-stricken and wretched were always becoming sick; and the -poverty-stricken and wretched seldom paid. Small wonder that Don Jaime's -fortunes had fallen into decay! - -"My father had no money put by to keep him in his old age; but he always -said he would sell those old beloved books of his when he became -incapacitated, by age, for a physician's arduous toils, or when bitter -necessity pressed him hard. You must know, Jacinto, that father's -ancient, yellow-leafed books are worth much, much money." - -She went on to explain. Learned men, famous men--some of them scholarly -descendants of noble families, others erudite plebeians with the right -to affix a dozen initials after their names--were always coming to Don -Jaime's house from the University of Salamanca and the Museo Provincial -of Seville to examine those books and to write historical treatises and -critiques from them. And it was not unusual to find one of these -bookworms, these bibliophiles, these _hombres del todo aficionado á los -libros_, making eager hints to purchase such of the precious dingy tomes -as they considered within their means. - -Some of the books had been possessed by Don Jaime's family for hundreds -of years; others he had come by through his godfather who was a famous -Spanish historian and very rich; and still others he had himself -discovered when doctoring ruined hidalgo families and the monks of -poverty-gutted monasteries; and he had taken these finds in place of -monetary fees. Naturally enough, therefore, he hated to part with any of -this great treasure in books. - -Fearing an old age of stony poverty, however, Don Jaime at last made up -his mind to put the books on sale. The money he might receive from -marketing the books he planned to invest in Argentine bonds. Three -months gone, he wrote to two great houses that deal in rare and valuable -books; the one in London, the other in Paris. - -Posthaste, two months since, came to the house outside Granada, the -buyer for the London firm. In far-away cold London, they had heard of -Don Jaime's collection, for there was not another collection of its like -outside of Spain. For two weeks the London book-buyer lived in the casa -with Don Jaime and Felicidad, cataloguing and pricing the books. Some -of the old quaint authors he rejected as of little worth, but others he -called "glorious Golcondas" and offered Don Jaime such a sum for them -that he was amazed, astounded. He had not expected to receive so much -money for the whole aggregate and total of his collection. - -"Three weeks ago, after paying my father a fortune in bank notes," -continued the girl, "the English book-buyer, Senor Havelock -Moore-Ingraham, went away, and with him, borne by a caravan of ten -mules, went the cream and richness of my father's library. - -"Then came to our house this Jacques Ferou. He said he had been sent by -the Paris house to whom my father had written. My father told him that -he was too late to bid, that all the books of value had been sold. - -"At that Jacques Ferou became very downcast; he said that his firm would -be much put out when they learned he had allowed the English company to -bag the hares while he played the laggard. And he begged very earnestly -for permission to look through the books, which had not been purchased, -in the hope that the English agent had overlooked a few volumes of -value, volumes that he might buy in order to save his face." - -Don Jaime gave him permission so to do. For almost a month he lived in -the great dusky lonely house. When he was not in the library poring over -the yellowed tomes, he wandered through the house, seeking sight of -Felicidad. When she had her daily "hour of balcony", he would leave the -casa and stand watching her from across the road, "playing the bear" in -a very serious and devoted manner. - -"I had never had a _novio_ before," explained Felicidad, "and his eyes -were so kind and sympathetic! It was very lonely in the great house with -just my father and the old whining Pedro and the old childish Teresa. -And he treated me with such consideration and reverence! - -"We used to meet often in the long dusky corridors, he kissing my hands -and telling me how beautiful I was, and I liking it, yet feeling fear of -him and all a-tremble, besides, lest my father discover us. And at -dinner time and all through the evenings, there he would be again, -talking with my father about 'rogue novels' and the chroniclers of the -conquistadores, and ever looking at me with the burning eyes of love. - -"Two days ago, my father spoke very harshly to me, threatening me with a -beating--he beats me even yet, you know. Old Pedro had told him that I -had a novio--that was why he was angered at me. But he did not as yet -suspect that my lover was Jacques Ferou. - -"Jacques was to leave our house for Paris in another week. I could not -resign myself to the old loneliness in that empty gloomy house; and I -would not suffer even one more time the indignity of a beating at my -father's hands. So two days ago I consented to run off with Jacques -Ferou and become his wife. - -"At four o'clock this morning, when it was still dark, I left my bed, -dressed, put a few things together, and went out on my balcony. Jacques -was waiting for me. He threw up a rope and I tied it to the iron -railing and let myself down into his arms. - -"Down the road a high-powered automobile awaited us. In it we raced -precipitantly away, for as you very well know, we had the outraged pride -of my terrible father to fear. Before seven o'clock in the morning, we -had fled almost as far as Jaen. Then something went wrong with the -automobile and it would go no farther; whereupon, Jacques sent a -_labrador_ into Jaen, who soon came back escorting a diligence pulled by -four horses. In the diligence we set off for Castro which is on the -railroad to Madrid. It was two hours before noon when we reached Castro, -and the train came at noon." - -They were on the Seville-to-Madrid that afternoon, when suddenly -Felicidad thought: - -"Has Jacques forgotten that he came to my father's house to purchase -books--has he forgotten his matter-of-fact business in his overmastering -love for me? He has neither paid my father for those books he selected, -nor taken those books he selected away with him. - -"I questioned Jacques. He laughed. He told me not to worry about his -business affairs. But I continued to worry; I felt already a wife's -interest and pride in my future husband's career; and I was much afraid -that his employers in Paris would be angered by his careless handling of -the whole transaction. - -"When Jacques saw that I was still put out about him, he laughed again, -this time heartily and long. Then suddenly he stopped laughing and, -looking hard into my eyes, said in a cold, challenging voice: - -"'Suppose I should tell you, _ma chérie_, that I am not in the employ of -a Paris book house; that my business is not at all that of a purchaser -of rare books; and that I care for rare books not a snap of the -fingers!'" - -Felicidad was thunderstruck and a little stunned. He saw the shocked -expression on her face and thereat commenced, with a cruel malicious -delight, to tell her other things. - -He had been to the United States, Mexico, Brazil, and Chile; he had been -to Egypt, Italy, England, and Sweden. He had been to Spain more than a -dozen times before. He had had many adventures. But, strangely, these -adventures were all adventures in crime. He had robbed cathedrals in -France and Spain of their valuable paintings and jewels and even of -their statuary. He had robbed museums and private collections of the New -World. - -He seemed to swell with pride, to grow with importance as he bared his -real self thus to her. With snobbish care, he explained to her how far -superior to ordinary criminals he was; he defined himself as one of a -limited and ultra-clever aristocracy of thieves. It was as though he -were showing a noble and praiseworthy side of himself hitherto -unrevealed; it was as though he had wooed a peasant girl, while -disguised in a most humble attire, and now lifted his vagabond's ragged -cap to reveal a prince's crown. He said he was a member of the "White -Wolves", an organization of French criminals who stole mostly from -churches. He said he was a member of many other exclusive criminal -fraternities. - -When from the lips of Felicidad, Jacinto Quesada heard this last, he -ejaculated: - -"Carajo! So that was why, before we searched him, he made such queer -signs to me--he was using thieves' signs, the signals of those criminal -brotherhoods to which he belongs. He thought I, as another thief, might -have some knowledge of that language of signs and that, out of a thief's -respect for a thief, I might exempt him from the ordeal of the search!" - -"Of what do you speak now--what signs?" asked Felicidad, bewildered. - -Jacinto Quesada explained. Then he said, "Proceed with your story, dear -Felicidad." - -Continuing, therefore, Felicidad told how Jacques Ferou, intent on -showing how consummately clever he was at all criminal business, and not -averse to filling his young wife with awe and fear of him, led up at -last to the business that had brought him to Spain and to the house of -Don Jaime de Torreblanca y Moncada. - -Once upon a time, he had indeed worked for the Paris book house whose -card he had used to introduce himself to the haughty hidalgo. He had -been hired by a very rich and very crazy bibliophile to get feloniously, -as it was beyond even the bibliomaniac's purse, a certain precious book -in the possession of the Paris firm; and the better to steal the ancient -volume, he had hired himself as a clerk to them for three months. - -Through another clerk still in their employ--a hunchbacked fellow whom -he had picked out, with a criminal's sure instinct, as a weakling -inclined to dishonesty and crime of a sort--he had secured Don Jaime's -letter offering the books for sale, before any one but his ally and -friend, the hunchback, had a chance to see it. - -Now, he knew a little about rare books; so he practiced talking about -books like a bibliophile and buyer; and very shortly, he started for -Spain. But he traveled slowly for a certain reason. - -When he told her this last, Felicidad asked him: - -"But for what reason did you travel slowly?" - -Jacques Ferou looked at Felicidad in a pity that, perhaps, amounted to a -contempt. - -"Why, you silly baby!" laughed he. "After all I have said, don't you -know why it was I traveled all the way from Paris to your father's house -in Andalusia?" - -"No!" - -At that, laughing the louder, he opened the top of his vest and put his -hand down beneath his shirt and undershirt. Presently, from under his -armpit, he drew out a small, mahogany-colored leather purse and let -Felicidad look into it. Within was a roll of bills, tightly wound and -compressed so that they took up but little space. Felicidad gasped with -fright and horror when she saw the color of the top bank note. It was a -bank note on the Bank of Spain for five thousand pesetas! Her father, -the terrible Don Jaime, had been paid by the English book-buyer in -five-thousand peseta bills! - -But Jacques Ferou was saying: - -"You know, your father mentioned offering the books to the English firm -when he wrote that letter to Paris. Therefore, I delayed my journey to -Spain so that I should not reach your father's house until the English -book-buyer had paid over the money for the purchased books and had left -with his purchases. Ma chérie, I came to Spain, not for books, but for -this. This is the money paid to your father for his books!" And he held -up the small mahogany-colored leather purse that had been Felicidad's -father's. - -Sometime since, when with cruel, malicious delight he had started to -tell her of his criminal operations, Felicidad had drawn away from him -in horror. Now she started up, crying out in supreme contempt: - -"So you stole all the money that was to keep my father in his old age! -Oh, you--you disgusting thief!" - -He saw then that he had been too open, too bold, too braggard. He tried -to quiet and soothe her with caressing hands, with kisses. But her lips -had become cold as ice, and they shrank away from his in profound -loathing. - -They were alone in the regulation separated continental coach. She tried -to tear herself from his arms and to throw herself from the moving -train. Death was all she thought of at first. By allowing herself to be -cajoled into running off with a creature who had no more decency than to -rob the father of his all, while he stole from him also his only -daughter, she had disgraced the high name of Torreblanca y Moncada. What -a blow this would be at the pride of the eagle-haughty Don Jaime! He -had never forgiven her mother for her desertion. Of a surety, never -would he forgive Felicidad! - -But even as Felicidad despaired and thought of death, there had come to -her the protector of her childhood days, Jacinto Quesada. And to him she -now appealed, saying with the ferocity of desperation: - -"The leather purse is still strapped under his armpit next his skin! Go -quickly and take it from him! You should have found it in the search; -then I would not have had to do as I have since done. That purse -contains the happiness of my father's old age. Tear it from that -yellow-livered Frenchman and return it in some way to Don Jaime!" - -With nervous eager hands she sought to hurry Jacinto Quesada from the -carriage. But he did not think to resist her, so glad was he to turn -from talk to action. Then, as he dashed impetuously away, she said in a -half-whisper, her voice breaking with sobs: - -"If God has intended that I should live on as the wife of a criminal, I -will suffer my fate in silence and patience, knowing that I, in my -waywardness, am alone to blame. But my father shall not be robbed of his -_buena ventura_--he shall not end his days in want and misery. -Seguramente, no! _Dios de mialma_, no! - -"I have dishonored Don Jaime--and Don Jaime most certainly will kill me -if ever he sets eyes on me again--but _no lo quiera Dios_! that I should -suffer this obscene crime against him to be committed! There is blood -and pride in me yet--I am yet a Torreblanca y Moncada!" - -Half-way to the muster of people, Jacinto Quesada halted to throw back -to her a heartening look and to call: - -"_Despacio!_ Softly!--gently! And watch, my Felicidad, how easy it is to -rob the robber!" - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - - -High overhead a bustard sailed on slow, lazy pinions, but below, across -the flat, tawny Manchegan plain, not a gust of desert dust whirled, not -a buck-rabbit bounded, not a cow or bullock lumbered. Hot and large, -empty and silent was the slow-crawling afternoon. - -Jacinto Quesada faced the herded people. He had been gone five minutes; -now, in visible trepidation, they awaited the upshot of his return. -Their eyes adhered stickily to his; they were utterly without voice. -Suddenly, he called, "Bring up and search the Frenchman again!" - -_Dios hombre!_ but the thing was swiftly done. The Frenchman's protests -went for nothing; he was mauled about, roughed and ruffed, fine-combed -and intimately worked over. Jacinto Quesada himself was lead-hound in -the second search. He it was who drew forth the small, mahogany-colored -leather purse from its nook of concealment in the fellow's armpit. - -Looking black as thunder, Jacques Ferou retreated once again into the -background of people. There situated, he gave vent freely to his -exasperation and fury, muttering savagely: "Name of a name of a name of -a name of a dog!" Also, many other choice French curses. But the more he -cursed, the more acrimonious and virulent he became. His face went -livid with stirred-up bile; his slate-colored eyes snapped in bitter -resentment; he bared his long white teeth in a passionate carnivorous -snarl of envenomed hate. - -But hate for whom? At first his hate was directed against no one in -particular. Because he had lost the purse, life had suddenly changed to -a more somber color and bitterly he detested the whole world! - -Then he turned his eyes upon Jacinto Quesada, thinking, for obvious -reasons, to concentrate his spleen upon him. Jacinto Quesada caught the -Frenchman's burning look and smiled contemptuously. That contemptuous -smile should have infuriated the Frenchman all the more; but strangely, -it did not! Somehow the Frenchman sensed that Jacinto Quesada was not -the prime mover in his downfall; and, his hate still at a loss for a -target to direct itself against, he took his eyes altogether off the -youthful bandolero. - -Then _Sacre Bleu_! who was that he glimpsed out of the ends of his -irises? Was it not Felicidad, his promised wife? She had made an -inconspicuous, an almost clandestine exit, from the third-class coach -wherein she had hid herself; and now she was furtively seeking to rejoin -the muster of people. Watching her, the Frenchman saw plainly that she -it was who had betrayed him to the bandoleros. And his whole malignant -rancid soul bunched and crouched in his eyes, and threw toward her a -look searing and scalding, a look of vitriolic vindictiveness. - -Ever since Felicidad had pushed him with impetuosity and precipitation -from the third-class coach, telling him to go quickly and tear from the -Frenchman the purse, Jacinto Quesada had been dominated by the will of -the girl, doing swiftly and with utter obedience that which she had bade -him do. He had worked in a white vacuum of action, without prejudice or -plan of his own, without forethought. Never did he doubt but that once -the mahogany-hued purse was taken from the Frenchman the whole wrong -would automatically right itself. And now--what should he do with the -purse? It would be some time before he could plan ways and means to -return it safely to Don Jaime. - -Of a sudden, then, to make matters more perplexing, Jacinto discovered -the Frenchman looking at Felicidad in that ugly and ominous way. At -that, he ceased worrying about the mahogany-colored purse; he shoved it -into an inside pocket of his sheepskin zamarra and straightway forgot -it. The question of its disposal was an insignificant matter; a greater -question bothered him. What should he do with the girl? - -As one wrestler closes with another, Jacinto Quesada closed with that -great question. The while he gripped and folded it in the doughy coils -of his brains, however, he did not stand quiet and pensive. Enough time -already had been lost. Loudly Quesada shouted orders. - -One of his supernumeraries, Pio Estrada, dipped down into the dry gutter -of the Arroyo Seco for the horses. The others, Rafael Perez and Ignacio -Garcia, fell to prodding the herded passengers with their carbines back -upon the train. Instantly the whole panorama took on a brisker look. At -haphazard, into any of the coaches which presented themselves, plunged -those boarding the train, not caring in what style they rode, or what -comfort, so long as they soon speeded away. - -Pio Estrada reappeared, leading by their bridles three hairy Manchegan -ponies. Another galvanic command from Quesada and, from the work of -bundling the passengers aboard the train, hurriedly the other two -salteadores detached themselves. They bustled about their ponies, roping -upon them the weighty sacks of mail and conglomerate loot, looking to -their curved bits and cinch-straps. With dispatch, everything was being -prepared for a nimble get-away. - -The last of the waylaid passengers were crowding back into the train, -the engine driver and his stoker were high in their cab once more and -busily engaged in getting up steam. It needed only the word of Quesada, -and the Manchegan ponies would be mounted, the train released on its -way, and the hold-up of the Seville-to-Madrid consummated. - -Still dodging the great question of the disposal of the girl, sparring -for time, Jacinto Quesada stole a look toward where he last had seen -Felicidad. He started and scowled. She and the Frenchman were together. -They were among those few not yet distributed through the various -coaches. - -As the laggards milled and pushed along the line of opening and closing -doors, along the line of compartments crowded and jammed, the Frenchman, -Jacques Ferou, had sidled near her. He had caught her by the arm. Now, -his tall athletic body bent forward sharply, his calculating eyes -narrowed to mere blazing slits, the nostrils of his high predatory nose -twitching and working, his whole ashy face working and grimacing like a -horrible mask of rubber, he was whispering into her ear! - -There was no mistaking the active threat in the man's attitude; there -was no mistaking the real and terrible fear in the girl's cowering pose. -She made to put up her hands as if to ward off blows; she trembled like -a tag of paper hung in the wind; and suddenly the cry that had chilled -in her throat at his first touch, burst up through the walls of her -lungs, and shrilled out in a terrified wail. - -Jacinto Quesada leaped, as though lashed, toward the two. The lumpy -problem was smashed, by that cry, into smithereens. The great question -demanded action. There was but one kind of action to do. - -Rafael Perez bulked up before him. - -"Give the word, maestro," said he, "and we shall signal the engineer to -start the train." - -"The word is given, then!" - -Rafael Perez made a semaphore of his arms. Another salteador farther up -the track repeated and relayed the signal. The locomotive whistle -shrilled shortly once, then the bell clanged and clanged with warning -insistence. - -As Quesada flung past Rafael Perez, he threw out the words: - -"Tell Garcia and Estrada to mount and make ready to start away, the -moment I give the command. You wait to hold my pony for me. As was the -plan, my pony goes unburdened by any of the sacks of stuff; but, though -it was also the plan, I will not linger behind to cover the get-away. I -have a new worry to trouble me. You lagartos will have to look to your -own safety. Should we get separated, you know the pass in the mountains -where we have planned to meet. Am I understood?" - -"Si, maestro!" - -With the emission of the waste steam through the chimney, the engine of -the Seville-to-Madrid commenced puffing slowly; the cars began -shuddering and groaning as though about to start. Jacques Ferou held -open the door of a second-class coach for Felicidad. But it was already -packed full of men and she hesitated to enter. - -"Come, hurry!" roughly ordered the Frenchman. "The train in another -minute will start. You do not wish to be left behind, do you?" - -"But this is not our coach! The coach we rode in thus far is up -forward." Almost it seemed as if the girl were sparring for time. - -"Enter, it is _no importa, señora dona_!" said, with kindness, one of -the men within--a man in a yellow bullfighter's costume, one of the -picadores of Morales' cuadrilla. - -"Yes, enter, please," spoke up another in a green costume, the great -Morales himself. "You are most welcome here, I assure you!" And he -reached down, seeking to help her climb aboard. - -"Quick, or the train will start without you!" cried another, the -blue-eyed American. Then in English, for suddenly the train had -commenced to bang back and forth, and he had become beside himself with -excitement: - -"Make haste, girl! The accursed slow freight is about to move. Gad! here -it goes." - -Just as the train puffed rapidly and, with a roar and a tremendous yank -started off, he crowded between the knees of the cuadrilla of -bullfighters, pushed aside Morales, and leaped through the door. -Staggering from the precipitant leap, he made toward the girl, intending -to lift and fling her into the moving train. - -A man came between them. - -"What do you do here?" cried this man sharply. "Back, into the coach!" - -The American recognized Jacinto Quesada. He tried to fling past him. A -huge long-barreled revolver showed in the bandolero's hand. - -"Back, you, into your coach!" cried Quesada once again. "And you, you -dog of a Frenchman! Quick! enter! or I will shoot you through the fat of -your breeches!" - -Swiftly the Frenchman went. He dashed after the moving coach, caught up -with it and flung himself headlong in upon the floor. Then he pulled -himself to his feet again, went over to the open door, and banged it -shut. - -The American did not budge. - -"But the girl!" he shouted. He drove at the bandolero. Quesada dodged -his fist. He reversed the revolver in his hand and swiftly crashed it -butt-first down upon the American's forehead. - -The American reeled back, stunned, falling. Quesada looked down the -length of train moving up toward him; he saw another open-doored coach -rattling near. Suddenly stooping, he tackled at the legs of the -American, lifted him bodily into the air, and flung him back upon the -floor of the open, moving coach. The American never knew how he boarded -that train no more than he would had he been a soulless sack of barley! - -All over sweat and panting deeply, Jacinto Quesada turned to Felicidad. - -"Come; I must take you with me," he said to her, "to my mother in Minas -de la Sierra. We will send back the purse to your father. We will tell -him the true story of events. Depend upon it, my Felicidad, he will -forgive you, he will relent. Until he does that, however, my mother will -take care of you, and I will be your guardian angel, besides." He could -not prevent a smile. And he added, "A sinful and thieving sort of -guardian angel, but one strong to protect you, you may be sure of that! -Come! Up on my horse!" - -He swung her up upon his Manchegan pony. Before her, he mounted. He dug -his heels in the pony's sleek mouse-colored barrel. They started away. - -"Hold tight with your little hands, my Felicidad!" he remarked. "It will -be fast riding for quite awhile." - -"Ah, thankfully I go with you, Jacinto!" she said, after a little, -despite the unevenness and hardship of their fast pace. "Jacques Ferou -whispered to me that he would show me, once we got to Madrid, how the -Apaches, the depraved criminals of Paris, treat those women who to them -are unfaithful!" - - - - -CHAPTER IX - - -After lumbering slowly across the rickety Arroyo Seco bridge, the -Seville-to-Madrid swung eastward on its gleaming rails and pursued, -across the desert uplands, a course parallel to that of the bandoleros. -From the coach windows on one side, the passengers could see Rafael -Perez, Ignacio Garcia, and Pio Estrada fleeing across the parched and -tawny flat on their plunder-laden, loping Manchegan ponies. They were -speeding for the distant gray and purple mountains. - -A jump behind these worthies and rapidly overtaking them were Jacinto -Quesada and the golden-haired girl. Distinctly the passengers could make -out Felicidad and her kidnaper. And the sight was as a red muleta to a -Miura bull. - -A young bride stolen from her husband! A young girl abducted by -highwaymen! That was she behind the last of the retreating -bandoleros--see the flying green skirt, see the glint of her golden hair -in the sun! They were taking her off with them, carrying her away into -the savage mountains! Had there been no men among all those creatures in -trousers scattered throughout the train--no men to rise in their -masculinity and to sacrifice their lives if need be, but at all hazards -to prevent this abominable crime? - -Women screamed, and women prayed. Hideous visions rose before their -eyes; visions of the bandoleros in some craggy retreat shaking dice for -possession of the girl! One of the black-clad nuns fainted outright. - -On its gleaming rails, the Seville-to-Madrid swerved once again. With -distance, the fleeing horsemen grew small, smaller. They were little as -bounding rabbits; then they were little as low-skimming birds. And then -at last they lost themselves in the ocean of ilex and thorny acacia, the -dun immensity of sand. - -The Seville-to-Madrid had been under way for a full twenty minutes and -was nearing the steel cantilever bridge over the river Zancura, when a -man, lurching heavily and looking very sick, picked his steps slowly and -cautiously along the footboard on the right side of the train--that -footboard used by the train guards in going from compartment to -compartment of the many-coached continental-style caravan, collecting -tickets and locking the doors between stops. The man clung to door -knobs, window jambs and window sills. And gradually he worked forward -along half the length of the train. - -At last he had progressed to a second-class coach that resounded with -the voices of indignant and outraged men, that quivered and rang with -bass and baritone curses in both Spanish and French. When he had closed -in upon this coach, the man on the footboard smiled triumphantly, yanked -open the door, and flung himself within. - -For a space, it was not as though he had entered a crowded coach; it was -as though he had flung himself into a surf of rolling breakers. Masses -of words struck him with the velocity and flying weight of charging -masses of water. He spread his feet, braced his shoulders and chest to -the impacting masses of words, and waited. - -The pounding tumulting seas crashed over him; he held his footing; they -receded, drew back, ebbed away. Then, before the great _zipizape_ of -words could recommence, he held up his hands for silence. Silence was -given him. He said: - -"I am a Norte Americano, a Yanqui. In my country if a girl were kidnaped -by bandits, quite well I know what we Yanquis would do. But this is -Spain, not the United States. What are you Spaniards going to do?" - -"What can we do, Senor Americano?" asked one of the cuadrilla of -bullfighters, a banderillero by his dress. "We ask you that--what can we -do?" - -"Do not think it an everyday thing," spoke up the matador, Morales, "for -blossoming girls to be stolen by Spanish highwaymen and carried off into -the mountains. One reads about such happenings in the bizarre and -romantic novels of the elder Dumas; but one does not think to see such -things occur in real life. - -"You would search far in our country's history for a parallel to this -outrageous crime! José Maria. Diego Corrientes, Agua-Dulce and Visco el -Borje left our women severely alone. They were simple-souled men of the -people, risen against oppression. Even as would any humble and pious and -hardworking labrador, so these bandoleros en grande feared God and -public opinion. Right well they knew they could continue to exist as -outlaws only by reason of the favor of Spanish public opinion, not to -speak of the favor of God. And they set the fashion for future Spanish -outlaws. They made the conventions by which all bandoleros are supposed -to conduct themselves to-day. The bandoleros, just before this man -Quesada, honored those conventions. El Vivillo and Pernales committed no -crimes against Spanish women. - -"Senor Americano, you may have noticed that we Spaniards accord our -bandoleros a certain respect. Because they have been altogether -masculine, varonil, and yet treated our womenkind with the utmost -reverence, the bandoleros have wrung from us this esteem which amounts -sometimes even to love. - -"And even this Jacinto Quesada to-day! He treated me with great -consideration, chatting pleasantly about his love of bullfighting and -other very human things. And he struck me as being a bandolero of the -splendid good old sort--the José Maria, the Visco el Borje sort! Why, he -even asked after the health of my wife, Marta, and my two little ones! -But now! To find out that he is a renegade, a damnable turncoat from the -old bandolero code, an inhuman wretch, a despicable rapist--_Porvida!_" - -Morales' boyishly rounded face flamed with anger and with a great deal -more of shame. - -"In my country," said the American, "should a man abduct a girl, a posse -would be organized at once, the criminal pursued, brought to bay, and -made to pay with his life for the crime. The posse would be composed of -every rich man, poor man, beggar man and thief in the community, and it -would never rest until its work was completely done and the girl -brought safely back to her promised husband." - -Three of the bullfighters spoke up at once. - -"A posse? We have never heard of that!" - -"Well, I come from the western part of the United States, and if you -ever had lived there for even a short time, you could not be so -blissfully ignorant. When I say a posse I mean a _posse comitatus_, -which is a lawyer's term for the citizens who may be summoned to assist -an officer in enforcing the law. My father was a pioneer in the State of -California; he made his start in Inyo County mines and his millions in -Bakersfield oil wells; and many's the story he has told me of quickly -formed posses and their rapid, sure work. We would be forming a posse of -a sort, if we all agreed to go after this Jacinto Quesada and bring back -the girl." - -One of the two yellow-costumed picadores was on his feet, his swarthy -face ruddy with agitation and strong emotion. - -"Then, in the name of Spanish womanhood, let us do that!" he cried. "I, -Coruncho Lopez, the most superb picador in Spain, volunteer to be one of -the posse!" - -"And I, Alfonso Robledo, a banderillero as great as any!" - -"And I--" - -Suddenly, those about to volunteer became tongue-tied; the whole -cuadrilla of bullfighters looked sheepish and confused. The youthful -matador, Manuel Morales, had stepped before them, on his face a cold and -contemptuous scowl. - -"You are the peones of my cuadrilla," he said brutally, "and I am your -maestro. You will do exactly that which I order you to do and nothing -else! But, perhaps, you have forgotten the strict laws of discipline of -our profession?" - -Shamefaced and abject, the whole cuadrilla replied at once, "Forgive us, -maestro. We await your orders." - -Morales seemed to feel better after that. With the easy magnificence of -a matador and maestro, he turned to the American. - -"Senor Americano," he said, "I have become a successful and renowned -espada only after years of hard work and vigilant heed to the duties of -my profession. And now that I am the great Morales, I am as much a slave -to my fame as any of my peones is the slave to me. In his offices in -Seville sits my manager, the Senor Don Arturo Guerra, signing contract -after contract; and these contracts I must fulfill, or lose much money -and much prestige with the _presidentes_ of bull rings and with the -_aficionados_. Therefore, I must be discreet, circumspect, and full of -forethought. - -"Senor Americano, these peones have no franchise to speak for -themselves. They are but my thoughtless, irresponsible children. If I -did not rule them with a hand of iron, they would be off on a thousand -wild escapades in a month! But one of them, just now, said a very -splendid thing. 'In the name of Spanish womanhood,' he said, 'let us -form of ourselves a posse!' - -"Carajo! I am discreet, circumspect, and full of forethought as the -great Morales should be, but my heart tells me those words are good -words! My heart leaps with eagerness to be pursuing the despicable -Jacinto Quesada in the name of Spanish womanhood! - -"What are contracts! What is money! What is prestige, fame! Senor -Americano, join out with me, and we will chase this scoundrel up and -down the peninsula until we have bayed him down and brought back the -girl! If you wish it, I will command my whole cuadrilla to come with us; -but it is my own wish, that we two go alone and unencumbered. This same -Jacinto Quesada who stole the girl called me one of the three bravest -men in Spain. And he named himself as the second most brave man, and you -as the third! Let us go then, we two brave men together! Two such as we -are equal to a posse of a dozen common men!" - -The blue-eyed American looked a little uncomfortable; he did not quite -know how to take the matador's flamboyant words. But he answered, -heartily enough: - -"Sure I'll join out with you! My name is Carson--John Fremont -Carson--and here's my hand on it! But better take the whole cuadrilla -along with us. We two may be as wonderful as you say we are, but just -the same, numbers count, and every man can do his little bit to get back -the girl. And now--" - -"In this posse I am included, too, of course!" - -It was the Frenchman, Jacques Ferou. He, the one to all outward -appearances most injured and aggrieved by Jacinto Quesada's outrageous -conduct, had played little part in the proceedings up to this moment. -But now, his tone was very peremptory and harsh, and he looked as if he -meant business. - -"Of course!" - -"Por los Clavos de Cristo! we can't leave you out!" - -The American produced a pencil and notebook. - -"And now," he said, "to arrange the details. There will be horses -needed, and provisions and guides and--" - -"It will be mules in the mountains," said one bullfighter. - -"Manchegan ponies are cheap," said another. - -"We will need Mausers and revolvers, too," said a third. "We cannot -conduct a man-hunt without weapons." - -"But how will we finance the expedition?" asked the practical Frenchman. -"Myself, I have not a franc, what you call a peseta. And I have no means -of replenishing my rifled pockets!" - -"Ah, then, it is for me to finance the expedition!" cried the matador, -Morales. "I will telegraph to Seville when we get off at the next stop, -and so much money will be sent me by Don Arturo, my manager, that you -will be surprised, astounded! It is just that I should do this--I and my -bullfighters make up the bulk of this troop; I am the most rich of you -all." - -"I don't know about that," said the American dryly. "Please allow me to -go halves with you." - -"Ah, I had forgotten; you Americans are all as rich as Monte Cristo. You -and I will share the expense, then. We get off at the next stop and make -our start after this Jacinto Quesada, do we not?" - - - - -CHAPTER X - - -The two were Spaniards. They wore the uniform of the Guardia Civil, and -they rode hairy, vigorous little police ponies. They had been in the -saddle since daybreak, persistently pushing southward. The cobs were -dog-weary but as steady-paced as machines of clockwork; the men were -hunched of shoulder, heavy-headed, their faces coated with a gray-brown -powder of dust. - -They drew rein atop a naked hummock in the immensity of sand and ilex -and thorny acacia. At the hip of the younger and taller of the two was -slung a pair of binoculars. The one, and then the other, trained these -glasses upon the rolling, everlasting veldt and swept the horizon round, -their scrutiny long, patient, and searching. - -All the long morning and the longer, more dreary afternoon, they had -seen upon the endless despoblado only half-wild cattle and half-wild -asses, and an occasional high-soaring falcon or an ugly, three-foot-long -eyed-lizard. And this time was not the first time they had paused to -peer through the binoculars; they had paused often, and then continued -on without remark. Now, however, as he put back the glasses in their -leather sheath, the younger policeman rather bitterly said: - -"There is no one abroad upon La Mancha. Not even a solitary salteador de -camino hiding out from us of the Guardia Civil." - -"Yet I tell you, Miguel--most surely are they out there somewhere!" -returned his compañero; vehemently dissenting. "How could they have -attained, so soon, to the Sierra Morena ahead--I ask you that!" - -Touching their ponies with their barbed heels, they enterprised once -more upon the long traverse. There was a terrible sun that day, a sun -African in the ferocity of its passion. The sun glare tortured their -eyes. It caused their lacquered three-cornered police hats, made of -shiny patent leather, to reflect and flash like the mirrors of a -heliograph. The men sweated until they were as dry as cinders and could -sweat no more. - -In the more subdued glare of the late afternoon, the two came at length -to the brown rolling foothills toward which they had been making -throughout the whole hideous day. The foothills billowed away, in -undulations rising even higher and higher, until finally they became -part of a distant and purple alpland of massive and lofty peaks--the -exalted spires and crags of the Sierra Morena. - -As their jaded ponies took doggedly the initial rise, the younger and -taller of the two policemen--he called Miguel--drew from his breast a -yellow paper on which was mimeographed a copy of a typewritten telegram. -He commenced to read aloud. - - The great Manuel Morales--his full cuadrilla--an American, the - Senor Don John Fremont Carson, and a Frenchman, name unknown. It is - especially important that you discover news of the American, - Carson; he is a millionaire and of high social position in his own - country. Both the American Ambassador and the Bank of Spain desire - to ascertain his whereabouts, his reason for carrying such a large - sum of money upon his person, and his purpose in setting off into - the wilderness. The Bank of Spain is also much interested in the - well-being of Manuel Morales, for he also withdrew a large account - by telegraph before disappearing from sight. - - The nine men left the Seville-to-Madrid at Alcazar de San Juan, - four days ago, secured horses and enough provisions to last them a - week and, traveling together, rode southward towards the Sierra - Morena. They were well-armed, having bought carbines and automatic - pistols from the Jewish cacique of Alcazar, Dicenta. They told no - one their errand. They took no guides. - - You of the Guardia Civil, find them and give them escort. Report - all information to me--Echegaray, _Ministro de Gobernacion_. - -He looked up now, the young smooth-faced policeman who had been reading, -and turned his handsome head to gaze back over the long monotony of -purgatorial desert. It was the words, scribbled in ink in a strong hand -and added like a postscript or annotation to the telegraphed -instructions, which he went on to read aloud now: - - They are somewhere in Ciudad Real or Jaen. The country they are - traversing is lawless and sparsely-populated, a country infested - with ladrones, among whom the most notable is the notorious - Quesada. - - Spain will never forgive us if any harm should come to the great - Morales. And we must answer to the American Ambassador should this - John Fremont Carson be not safeguarded. The Constabulary will - please give its most careful attention to the search.--Alvarez, - Captain-General of the Guardia Civil for the District. - -Putting the yellow paper back in the breast of his tight blue jacket -faced with red, the younger policeman, Miguel, rode on up the slope -beside his compañero?--a squat, fiercely mustached and apelike fellow. - -"Pascual," he asked presently, "would you know that magnificent one, -Morales, should you meet him face to face--" - -"Seguramente, yes! Have I not watched him murder a thousand bulls?" - -Then, thoughtfully, the apelike one added: - -"Once we chance upon their spoor, once we scent them from afar, it -should be a most simple matter for us of the Guardia Civil to run down -these fools-errant of Manuel Morales. We know these plains and -foothills; they do not. And they are a large troop and must make a great -to-do of noise and dust whenever they move about. It is not as though we -seek a bandolero riding alone, friend Miguel. A bandolero riding alone -is a very fox to catch!" - -"Ah, that Jacinto Quesada!" ejaculated the other with boyish enthusiasm. -"Is not he the crafty lizard, the sly tricky one? He has given us more -work to do than any twenty other lawbreakers in Spain. If Morales and -his fools-errant--as you call them, Pascual--conceal their movements -but half so well as does he, we will be chasing will-o'-the-wisps for -the next hundred years! But, by the way, Pascual, could you describe -Jacinto Quesada to me?" - -The older man pondered. - -"That is most difficult," he said at length, chewing in a ruminating -manner one end of his black mustache. "He is of the Sierra Nevada, this -Quesada; he is not a native of La Mancha. Few men hereabouts could -describe him, I think; he does not go abroad much to fiestas and wedding -feasts, since he took to the highroads, you know. And the few folk that -have met him since he became a bandolero have been too frightened to -note well what he looked like. But I have been told by a paisano of his, -a serrano of the Sierra Nevada, that he looks very much like me, -myself!" - -That last was said with downright pride. The policeman, Pascual, did not -even take trouble to conceal his vain pleasure in the thought, his -flattered conceit in himself. He sat a little straighter in the saddle -and, with self-conscious braggadocio, fingered his black mustache, -looking about him fiercely the while. - -He was squat, broadly uncouth of shoulder, prognathous jawed--an ugly -apelike sort. There was something bestially predatory in the simian look -of him which the black mustache rather heightened than detracted from. -He did not resemble any of his immediate progenitors who had been men of -Aragon and Guardias Civiles every one. More he resembled, perhaps, -certain Miquelets and reclaimed brigands from whose loins his line had -originally sprung. He did not look at all like Jacinto Quesada! - -The youthful Civil Guard eyed the apelike Pascual a moment, and then -derisively laughed. - -"That is strange," he said, with a sneer. "Certain Gypsies of my -acquaintance have seen Quesada in the mountains and on the plains. -Outlaws such as he often repair to the Gitanos when hard-pressed, you -know; the Gypsies look upon them as blood-brothers, for the Gypsies are -all thieves. And it is strange, Pascual, but these Gypsies of my -acquaintance have told me that _I_ was the living image of Jacinto -Quesada. He is very young, they say, little more than a boy even, and he -is tall and smooth-shaven and handsome, indeed, very much like me!" - -Youthful, tall, smooth of face and very handsome was, indeed, that -policeman called Miguel. He was lean, supple and gallant looking as a -sword of Toledo. - -"Fools and children tell the truth," returned the apelike Pascual, -quoting an old Spanish proverb. Then, barbing it with a sting of his own -making, he added: "But Gitanos, never!" - -Surlily, he rode on ahead, the while the other slid down from his horse -and ran in pursuit of his shiny leather police hat which was tumbling in -a quick succession of flip-flops down the hill. He had knocked it from -his own head inadvertently when, while talking, he had raised the -binoculars to his eyes for another look back over La Mancha. - -After a short erratic chase, Miguel retrieved his recalcitrant -headgear; but, strangely, he did not return immediately to the saddle. -Instead, stooping low, he stood motionless near the place where he had -picked up the hat, peering down as at a nugget of gold half hidden in -the dust and grass. Then, becoming altogether inexplicable in his -actions, he went scurrying off up the slope at a tangent, his body bent -far forward, his head turned toward the ground, and his face sharp and -pale with excitement and expectancy. - -"Caspita!" he was heard by Pascual to mutter. "Caspita!"--"Wonderful! -Wonderful!" - -Every so often, he halted and stooped lower, crouching almost to the -very ground. It was as though, each time, he discovered something of -sober interest to him and paused to examine that something. - -Pascual followed him with puzzled and astounded eyes. At last, as the -curious performance persisted, he called out, "_Dios hombre!_ what ails -you, man?" - -His face flushed, his eyes smiling with triumph, the youthful and -handsome Miguel came back to the spot where he had started his -mysterious shadow-dance up the hillside. - -"Pascual Montara!" he called. "This way, quick!" - -As the other trotted his pony over, he pointed a finger to the ground -before him and said, "Do you see that which I see, Pascual?" - -"Seguramente, yes." - -"What is it, then?" - -"Carajo, Miguel! it is only a handful of grass, plucked and left in a -tiny hillock by some one." - -"Bueno! But who plucked it, then, and left it in a heap upon the -ground?" - -"_Zut!_ How should I know? Who is it plucks grass, anyway?" - -The young policeman seemed to take joy in the rôle of Grand Inquisitor. -He smiled a superior smile and moved on a few feet, and then again -halted. - -"And this--what is this?" he demanded, pointing before him once more. - -"You buffoon, you--what game are you playing with me? It is only another -hillock of plucked grass, as any fool can see!" - -"And this?" The Grand Inquisitor had moved on another couple of yards. - -"I shall call it a mountain, an it please you better. The Devil take you -and your little hills of grass, Miguel Alvarado!" - -"And this?" Once again the policeman with the superior smile had moved -on up the hillside. But this time he did not point at any hillock of -dead herbage. - -"That? Why, that is only a cross made by two sticks that have fallen by -chance one upon the other." - -"Which way does the longest arm point, Pascual?" - -"Straight up and down the slope." - -"_Muy bueno!_ I have pointed out everything to you, then. Chew upon what -you have seen, Spaniard!" - -He returned to his horse, mounted and started on. The apelike Pascual, -his face a study in curiosity, drew alongside. - -"You have asked me a lot of questions, Miguel Alvarado," he said. "Now I -will thank you a thousand times if you will explain your great mystery -away." - -"Great mystery--za! It is only because you are a lunkhead that you -perceive any great mystery here. There are Gitanos encamped in the hills -ahead, that is all!" - -"Did those hillocks of plucked grass spell out that for you?" - -"Yes; and the crossed sticks, also. The hillocks and the crossed sticks -are the Gypsies' trail--what they call their patteran. They leave them -in their wake that their brethren, who have lagged behind, may be guided -by them to the meeting-place." - -"_Y pues?_" grunted Pascual. "Well, and what of that? It is a matter of -no moment to me. But hola! why turn your horse to the right?" - -"I am going to the camp of the Zincali. They may have word of these men -we seek. Should they have seen Morales and the rest upon the plains, or -even have heard of their presence abroad, they will tell me such news as -they have by chance acquired. Do not come with me, Pascual Montara, if -you do not wish to." - -Now, it is against all orders and precedent for one of the Spanish -constabulary to go where his fellow goes not; the men of the Guardia -Civil hunt forever in braces. The apelike Pascual grumbled, but loyally -he followed his arrogant and imperious camarada. - -Their horses topped the rise and, suddenly taking heart, entered briskly -a tiny _barranca_ set transverse between the hilltops. It was only a -long gully or dingle, but it was cool and reposeful with wild olive and -algarroba trees, white buckthorn, holly and arbutus. Through gutters -strewn with moss-overgrown boulders, edged with rhododendrons and -overarched by oleanders, raced down the whole length of it a glad, -loud-chattering run of water. - -Sighing their delight, the two surprised and pleasured policemen rode -under an upstanding and ancient wild olive at its portal and plunged -into the secret, beautiful place. Instantly a great flutter of -butterflies of all sizes and colors lifted in spangled clouds about -them. - -"But the Gypsies may be a great way ahead in the hills!" grumbled -Pascual filled with a hasty but mighty desire to linger in this -barranca, smoking cigarettes and dreaming the moments away in the cool -of some shady tree. - -All on the moment, the youthful Miguel Alvarado was off his horse again. -They were following a narrow, barely discernible trail up the canyon's -deep long alley; along this trail he now ran, leading his pony by the -bridle and looking ever to the left side. Soon he paused and looked back -at Pascual Montara. - -"The Gitanos have pitched their tents just beyond the first turn above," -he announced. - -"Hola! Have you seen more of their sign writing in grass-ricks and -sticks?" - -"Si, Pascual. Look well at the forked rod set upright in the soft loam -to the left of the trail--one prong is broken off, the other points to -the right. I knew, if it was here, it would be found to the left of the -trail. It is a signpost only set up to guide night travelers. The -Gitanos erected it here no more than an hour, or an hour and a half -ago." - -Pascual grunted noncommittally. But the younger man seemed possessed of -a strange and febrile excitement. - -"Let us bathe our faces and heads in the runlet," he suggested urgently. -"It would be an error of strategy if we failed to look as gallant as -possible when we ride into the camp of the Zincali. Besides, the Gypsy -girls may not be overclean themselves, Pascual, but greatly they admire -a Busno--a White-blood--with a face freshly laved and as handsome as -yours or mine!" - -"Za! The Gypsy wenches are all jades and strumpets!" - -But he went, this surly Pascual Montara, and bathed his head in the -brook. Puffing prodigiously, he mounted and rode on beside the other. -Miguel Alvarado looked altogether the gay and haughty cavalier after his -ablutions. Pascual could not help eyeing in admiration his camarada's -lean, clean-cut youthful profile, his smooth, brown, handsome face. -Alvarado's cheeks were tinged with red, his eyes bright and sparkling as -though with some concealed but hopeful expectancy. - -"You bristle with eagerness, senor caballero of my soul!" remarked -Pascual slyly. - -Miguel Alvarado shrugged his shoulders, but did not answer. Suspicion -growing in his glance, the apelike one continued to eye him. Then, as -if he were accusing his camarada of something rather to be ashamed of, -he said pointedly: - -"It is because Gypsies are so near, that you burn and bristle--is it -not? You are enamored of them; they captivate you with their uncouth -glamors; towards them you are drawn, eh? - -"Ah, I understand now, Miguel, that which heretofore has made you seem -mysterious in my eyes--your trick of reading cabalistic signs written in -chalk on the stonework of bridges and the adobe of posadas and -_providencias_; your trick of reading hillocks of grass and crosses of -sticks placed beside the road; and your trick, too, of ordering your -pony about in the thieves' Latin of the Gitanos. You are like so many -other Moors of Andalusia, Miguel Alvarado. You are one of _Los del -Aficion_--Those of the Predilection! I have guessed rightly, have I -not?" - -Miguel Alvarado shrugged his shoulders once again, and smiled his -superior smile. Lightly, he remarked, "The Gypsy wenches are like -she-leopards, soft and caressing of movement, but free and bold of eye. -I cannot resist the lure in their golden glances." - -The other snorted and spat disgustedly down into the watercourse. He -drew a little away from Miguel Alvarado. After that, he rode on, through -the gathering dusk, very much in the manner of a man companioned by one -possessed of a demon--full of a certain respect but also full of reserve -and caution. Scarcely could you say he became more at his ease, more the -boon compañero and dorado. Was not the man he rode with one of Those of -the Predilection? - -In Spain, especially in Andalusia, there has long existed a large class -of men given over utterly to a zest for Gitanos, their ways of life, -their dances and their songs. These admirers of the Gypsies cannot shake -off the fascination; they follow after the wandering Roms like the -slaves of an evil eye; they cultivate the Cales, the Black Men of Zend, -wherever met; they delight to watch the strange obscene dances of the -Gypsy maids that are like nothing so much as writhings of snakes in an -ecstasy of desire. These men are Those of the Predilection. - -In the hushed and golden gloaming, they came at last, those two of the -Guardia Civil, to a turning of the narrow canyon and then, beyond, to a -Gypsy camp set in an opening among the trees. The brown tents were -patched with rags of a hundred hues, and strings of rags, slovenly -washed and as variegated, hung drooping and gathering smoke between the -ridgepoles and the trees. - -There were seven dusty dun wagons in a wide circle, and great huddles of -gaunt and hungry dogs lazying about, and horses, foals, and burros -coming and going at will among the trees. From the limbs of the trees -dangled all manner of saddles, traces, and other odds and ends of -harness. There were three fires sending black smoke and dancing sparks -up into the lines of washing and the overarching greenery; and there -were a dozen men and women, and three times that many children, postured -about the fires and beneath the wagons. - -"Alto à la Guardia Civil!" bellowed thunderously Pascual Montara, -thinking to give the Gypsies a start with this dread call of the police. - -The men about the fires did not move. The golden-skinned sloe-eyed -women, stooped above the pots and kettles, looked up idly. Only the -rabble of children seemed affrighted; they scurried away, those -tousle-headed, chocolate-brown, ragged brats, some of even five and six -years old stark naked, and hid themselves in the black insides of the -wagons. - -A young man, his shirt open to the waist, a yellow _faja_ or scarf wound -about his middle, was busily engaged with winding a battered accordion. -It was outlandishly sweet under his hands. Nearby, a Gypsy woman of -seventeen nursed a new-born bantling, her breast uncovered. A slim young -girl leaned against the trunk of an algarroba, pensively brushing the -calf of one nut-brown leg with the toes of the other. A man, tall, -massive and nobly upright of port, got up from beside one of the fires -and advanced slowly toward the two policemen on the edge of the -clearing. - -A red kerchief tightly bound his head, and he wore the leather slop of a -blacksmith. He had a short, curly grizzled beard. What with his gigantic -body, herculean shoulders, monolithic throat, and haughty, savagely -beautiful head, he looked like some Byzantine emperor of the old Roman -strain. He was sixty, but he had every appearance of being under -forty-eight. - -Even as the colossal one approached, Miguel Alvarado caught sight of the -slim young nut-brown girl under the algarroba tree. He went deathly -pale. He clutched at his throat, devouring her with his gaze. His eyes -were like two hot pulsing embers. - -"Go forward to meet this man, Pascual Montara," at length he stuttered. -"His name is Pepe Flammenca. He is a Gypsy count and lords it over the -clan encamped here. Find out what he knows of Morales and the others. -Question him shrewdly; he may know much!" - -Without realizing that Miguel Alvarado was not to follow, Pascual -pressed forward obediently. Meanwhile, the other policeman turned his -horse in between the trees, skirted the clearing, and approached the -spot where the Gypsy girl stood. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - - -Dismounting, Miguel Alvarado stepped swiftly to the girl's side, threw -his arms about her shoulder and waist, and drew her back among the trees -and out of sight of those about the fires. She did not scream; she did -not seem affrighted in the least. Only when he strove to kiss her, she -put a slow but determined hand upon his forehead and pushed away his -impetuous lips. - -He forebore to combat her for that which she would not give. Crushing -her to him, he whispered triumphantly, "Ah, my Paquita, maiden of my -soul! Did I not say rightly, when I said we should meet again?" - -Evidently she had not been quite certain whom he was until he spoke. For -now, she writhed free from his arms, her face contorted with loathing -and wrath. - -"So you come sweethearting again, you vile louse of a Busno! Si, -seguramente, si--we meet again! But I met with hunger when I was a -child, and I met hunger often since, and I like hunger the less at each -of our meetings. The same with the cholera! The same with you!" - -A cold and haughty tower of ivory, she faced him. Her face was superbly -royal with high disdain. - -"Go away at once or I will set our scavenger curs on you! Have I not -warned you before this never to approach me with your treacle words of -love, your kissing lips that turn my blood to vinegar, your caressing -arms that make my skin shudder and creep? Go away, you itch, you -ringworm! You are not a man; there is nothing masculine, varonil, strong -and savage about you. All you can do is to moon and coo and sigh; you -are a sot ever thirsty for love; you are a soft, shapeless blubber of -passion! And how can you come near me when you know you are one of the -order of men who murdered my brother for poisoning a few poor pigs and -for stealing a few poor horses?--you, a man of the Guardia Civil, the -enemy of my clan and race since time out of mind; our blight, our -scourge!" - -Beneath the bite and lash of her words, beneath the scorching fire of -her scorn-filled eyes, a lesser man than Miguel Alvarado would have -shriveled into a smoking black cinder. But never he. Folding his arms -across his chest, he waited in a dramatic silence while the wrack and -tempest swept over him. Then, slowly, theatrically, he raised his arms -above his head, and uplifted his eyes, and addressed himself to the -serene heavens--under the circumstances, the obvious and altogether -Spanish thing to do. - -"Senor Don Dios!" he apostrophized solemnly. "My soul leaps like a flame -with love for her--I love her unto death. And she repulses me! What -shall I do?" - -Go away and leave her victorious in her disdain? Not Miguel Alvarado! - -When Pascual Montara finished questioning the Gypsy chieftain and -hetman, and came seeking his compañero through the trees, he found them -together still--the hot-blooded young policeman and the lithe Paquita of -the nut-brown legs. Miguel Alvarado had progressed some way with his -bitterly contested love-making. But she still shrugged away from him -when impetuously he approached too close. - -Having left his horse in a distant quarter of the clearing, on foot -through the gloaming came Pascual Montara; and, glimpsing the girl in -the shadow of the trees, he halted dead and eyed her with wonder and -admiration. She wore a printed calico dress of deep vermilions and -flaming saffrons, and a grass-green scarf was wound, in the Gypsy -fashion, among her ink-black tresses. There was a string of copper coins -upon her bosom and a bangle of copper coins upon one wrist. Her dress -came but little more than half-way down her bare, symmetrical and richly -polished legs, and it was open at the throat to show glimpses of her -small brown breasts and of the swale between. - -Letting Miguel Alvarado talk as he willed, she stood watching him out of -slow gloomy eyes. His elocution was fluent, full of zest, soul-moving; -his words were gorgeous, magnificent, glowing with color and music. One -moment he called her a baggage, a jade, a wanton, a thing of ugliness, a -soiled and tawdry wench. The next, he called her a virgin most pure, -most chaste, most admirable, and endowed her with every beauty and charm -ever conceded by a lover's tongue, appraising separately and in sequence -her features, her contours, her color, the texture of her skin, the -fineness of her hair. With bold, splendid splashes of color and -enunciation, he lifted her up, up from the degradation and the mire to -which he so lately had debased her, and put her upon the apex of the -world, erecting her upon a pedestal above all other women, his words a -coronation, a canonization, and an apotheosis. When he had done, she -raised a little brown hand to her mouth, and yawned prodigiously. Then -she turned away. - -Pascual Montara came forward, loudly rattling the fallen leaves with his -feet to apprise Alvarado of his nearness. - -"Let us be on our way," he said. "I have questioned this Pepe Flammenca -and others of the Gypsy bucks, questioned them as though I were Fray -Tomas de Torquemada himself! They know less of the men we seek than do -sucking infants of sin. Come, Miguel Alvarado! It grows dark, and you -will forget your duty to the Guardia Civil if you linger long here!" - -Young Alvarado flashed an angry look at him. Then, suddenly getting in -hand, he shrugged himself calm and said: - -"Morales and the rest have not been here, eh? Well, let us clear our -heels of the filth of this vile-smelling place before dark, then." - -Without another word, he turned his back upon the girl and went seeking -his pony among the trees. A sibilant, softly called Gypsy word, repeated -twice, and the horse came clattering through the underwood toward him -like a well-trained dog. - -He mounted. Pascual Montara had gone striding across the clearing to -retrieve his own animal. The girl lingered under the trees, standing as -he had found her, her back against the trunk of an algarroba, the toes -of one nut-brown leg scratching the calf of the other, her eyes pensive. - -"My Paquita," said Miguel Alvarado, sidling near her on his horse, -"there is an ancient and massive wild olive far down at the gateway to -this barranca. And it looks like a tall and handsome cavalier waiting -for the moon to rise that he may have a meeting with some Gypsy girl who -is his beloved." - -She looked slowly up at him, then away. - -"My Paquita," he persisted, "you have seen this wild olive, have you -not?" - -She did not answer him. - -"My Paquita," he said again, "you are a Gitana. Tell me; you are wise in -reading nature; will there be a moon clear of clouds to-morrow night?" - -She slipped away from the trunk of the algarroba and started off toward -the clearing. Suddenly, she paused and looked back over one shoulder. -She answered his questions in the order asked. - -"The wild olive is well-known to me, and there will be a fine moon -to-morrow night. But there will be no meetings at the wild olive between -you and me. I have no appetite for your caresses and kisses; I would -hate you, did I not think too little of you. You are only a cinder in my -eye! I have kept myself a virgin all these years for some man more bold -and brutal and magnificent than you!" - -Pascual Montara had mounted his horse and was waiting in growing -impatience. - -"Hola, mi compañero!" he called. "What is keeping you?" - -Trotting his horse out into the open space where were the three fires of -black smoke and dancing embers, Alvarado joined him. Together the two -policemen rode away up the shadow-haunted alleys of the steep and narrow -barranca. - -With a great gusto, the Gypsy bucks assaulted their evening meal. They -had no need of plates nor forks. Three wolfish circles of men swiftly -formed about the three steaming pots, which had been taken off the fires -and left standing upon the grass. The pots contained the ubiquitous -national dish of Spain, the puchero, that most savory of stews. Into the -pots the Gypsies dipped with their navajas--those long, wicked-looking -clasp-knives--and with their fingers. - -It was like a grab-bag. In that puchero one could not know what variety -of meat or vegetable one might pluck forth. The Gitanos went at the -business of eating with a singular moroseness; they were like glum and -voracious animals. When any secured a chunk of meat too large to be -swallowed in one desperate mouthful, it was torn into more reasonable -pieces by hands and teeth, or sawed into lengths by the ever ready -navajas. - -The women and children waited wistfully apart. It was not for them to -sit and eat until the last of the males had done. They were the weaker, -and they must take thankfully that which was left them by the strong. - -One by one, the bucks got up from about the pots of puchero, licking -their lips and reaching for papers and tobacco. The three fires had -decayed and become mere hillocks of embers. The men formed new and more -indolent circles about these, smoking lazily, their eyes dull and -complacent with eating. Chattering like famished sparrows, their voices -sharp with eagerness, the women and children fell hastily upon the -remnants their men had left. - -It was about this time that a party of cabalgadores, riding hard, passed -the massive wild olive that stood at the dingle's gateway like a -_sereno_, like a metropolitan night policeman at the corner of a dark -and narrow street. Keeping steadily on, they rode through the obscurity -of the corridorlike reaches of the barranca, and swiftly drew near the -opening among the trees and the camp of the Gypsies. - -Soon they glimpsed the red of firelight through the underwood, and -caught snatches of the shrill chattering of the women and children. -There was an undertone of music from the camp, the soft reedlike notes -of an accordion, and suddenly a man's voice began chanting "The Song of -Juanito Ralli": - - "The false Juanito, day and night, - Had best with caution go, - The Gypsy Cales of Yeira height - Have sworn to lay him low. - - "Throughout the night, the dusky night, - I prowl in silence round, - And with my eyes look left and right, - For him, the Spanish hound, - That with my knife I him may smite, - And to the vitals wound. - - "I'll wash not in the limpid flood - The shirt which binds my frame; - But in Juanito Ralli's blood - I'll bravely wash the same." - -The strangers halted in the concealing underwood, drawing close -together. Words passed in whispers; then the group of five separated. -Three of the party moved slowly and quietly away through the trees; the -other two waited, motionless as rock. - -At length, the feat in strategy was successfully accomplished. In each -of four sectors of the palisading circle of foliage and shadows which -surrounded the opening among the trees, there waited a man, silent and -watchful, a carbine ready in his two hands. No one of the four -dismounted, but suddenly one rode briskly out into the clearing. - -"Who is this?" cried Pepe Flammenca, starting up. "Not another -policeman!" - -"No, lo quiera Dios!" quietly returned the horseman. "God forbid, no!" - -He halted his horse half-way to the groups about the fires. The Gypsy -fellow with the open shirt and yellow sash had abruptly quit singing and -playing the accordion. The very children were frightened into large-eyed -silence. - -"Ah, you are one of the _Errate_, one of the Blood!" exclaimed -Flammenca. "It is a Zincalo that speaks, a Romano, a Cale. Is it not, -_hombre_?" - -"God forbid that too!" the horseman laughed shortly. "Approach, Pepe -Flammenca, and see for yourself whom I am." - -There was in his voice a certain imperious note. The gigantic Gypsy -count moved slowly forward. He peered at the brown youthful face -beneath the broad-brimmed felt. - -"Jacinto Quesada!" he whispered sharply, falling back a step. He looked -over his shoulder at his Roms scattered upon the grass. They had heard -his sharply sibilated whisper; and an echo of that whisper had passed -over them as each repeated the name and sat up, dramatically moved. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - - -"What do you do here, Quesada?" asked Pepe Flammenca. - -Quesada ignored the question. - -"Tell me," he said, "how long have you been encamped in this spot?" - -"Four of our wagons have been here a fortnight. But three that had been -delayed on the way joined us in this spot only this afternoon. I and my -daughter, Paquita, came with the vanguard." - -"There is a singular troop of cabalgadores somewhere upon the plains," -remarked Quesada, studiously regarding him. "They are nine--all -strangers to the countryside. They are led by a man known from end to -end of Spain, the redoubtable espada, Manuel Morales. Two among them are -outlanders; the one a Frenchman, the other an American. - -"I seek news of them, Count. Perchance you may have encountered them in -traversing the high parameras of La Mancha? Perchance you may have -entertained them with a puchero in your encampment here?" - -"Neither have I bespoke them nor have I had sight of them," returned -Pepe Flammenca with great certitude. - -"No? But of course not! It is only four days ago that they first -enterprised abroad. However, the wagons of your caravan that just came -up to-day will surely have some word of them. These cabalgadores of -Manuel Morales are an uncommon looking lot; some of them are outfitted -in the full ring regalia of bullfighters; and the bright reds, greens -and yellows of their costumes have caused the vaqueros and herders, who -chanced across their path, to become puzzled and amazed and -extravagantly talkative. Then, too, they bristle with Mausers and -Mannlichers, and are heavily weighted with bandoleers in which -cartridges are as thick as teeth in a man's mouth. - -"Small wonder, Pepe Flammenca, that tongues have wagged and legends been -fabricated--Morales and his men are nine of the most outlandish -cabalgadores ever seen in these parts; they are nine Quixotes, as -fantastic looking and out of place upon La Mancha as was the Ingenious -Gentleman himself! Myself, I had word of them borne me across the wastes -by a dozen different arrieros, and by the hard-riding horseboys of -certain innkeepers of my acquaintance. - -"It is strange, but I, and I alone, know on what business they ride. But -then, I am the man they seek--I, Jacinto Quesada! But, Count, you are -not making any inquiries among the men of the three wagons that joined -you to-day. Do so at once!" - -"There is no need, Don Jacinto. Already I have asked questions of them." - -"But, man, you have not budged a foot! Carajo! do you think to trifle -with Jacinto Quesada?" - -"God forbid, no!" returned the gigantic Gypsy hastily. "But I speak the -truth, Senor Quesada--already have I made inquiries among my men for -news of this Morales and his cabalgadores. Don Jacinto, it may surprise -you, but others have been here no more than an hour ago seeking news of -this selfsame Morales and his fantastic troop. They were two men of the -Guardia Civil and--" - -"Hola! Two Guardias Civiles? And no more than an hour ago? When they -left you, which way did they ride?" - -"Right on up the barranca--towards the mountains--and they did not stop -for food." - -Jacinto Quesada, keeping the Gypsy chieftain transfixed with his eye, -raised his voice so that it carried all through the clearing and even -out to the shadows beyond: - -"Carajo! they were here, eh? Two Guardias Civiles--and they went right -on up the barranca!" - -At once and silently, two of the cabalgadores waiting in the shadows -moved off up the dark defile. It was as though they were play-actors -hidden in the wings of a stage, and the loudly shouted words of Jacinto -Quesada were to them an awaited signal, a cue to be immediately obeyed. - -"What do you desire of us, Don Jacinto?" asked Flammenca of Quesada, -without seeming to notice his change of voice. - -"Food." - -"Sit down and eat. You are most welcome." - -"Do you think Jacinto Quesada will be satisfied with your leavings and -the leavings of your brats and wenches? Besides, there is not enough -stew left to satisfy my stomach. I have the appetite of three men." - -He looked at Flammenca a long moment, then added, "And again, I have a -following of four cabalgadores who will be here shortly. Their stomachs -must be well garnished. They have ridden hard and steadily these last -four days." - -"Any you bring with you are most welcome here, Senor Quesada, my friend. -Are not the Gypsies forever the friends of outlaws?" - -"One of those who will come will be a lady, a gentle highborn lady--" - -"Tell her to come forward out of the shadows, man! Why keep her waiting -outside the clearing because of your foolish distrust of us? We Gypsies -mean no treachery by you or yours, _ley tiro solloholomus opre -lesti_--you may take your oath on that!" - -The two men looked at each other for a long minute. Then Jacinto -Quesada, in perfectly good grace, turned his head and called, "Forward, -my Felicidad!" - -She came forth, the golden-haired girl, riding a tobacco colored mare of -the small but hardy Manchegan breed. She looked very proud and highborn -and lonely, as she walked her horse slowly toward them. - -"You are safe from all harm here, _madama_," said Flammenca, bowing low. -"Rest yourself and soon you will eat. My own daughter, Paquita, will -serve you. We are your good friends even as we are the good friends of -Jacinto Quesada." - -Very courteously, he helped her dismount. - -Just then sounded, very suddenly, the hoot of the eagle owl. It came -from up the barranca. As it vibrated sharply between the steep high -walls of the canyon, Flammenca turned and looked at the young -bandolero, cocking his ears the while. Quesada, in the act of -dismounting, paused also and listened. The sound came again, a singular -bird note, not much the ordinary hoot of an owl, but more a growl and -something of a gruff scream. - -Pepe Flammenca strode quickly to Quesada's side. - -"The men you sent up the canyon after the Guardias Civiles have -returned, I see," he said. "Call them in! You are overwary of me and my -people, Don Jacinto. Such caution is commendable in most circumstances, -but not when you deal with the Zincali. Trust us, Quesada; we will not -betray you! Have we not for hundreds of years been outlaws hunted like -wolves? Do you think the men of the Guardia Civil look upon us as their -allies? We of the Zincali are thieves, and we honor you for being a -greater thief than we. No reward the police of Spain can offer would -make us prove false to you and yours!" - -A long silence followed. Again Jacinto Quesada looked steadily into -Flammenca's eyes and strove to read the soul of the man. - -"Very well!" he said at length. He raised his carbine aloft and fired it -into the air. - -Briskly his three dorados, Rafael Perez, Ignacio Garcia, and Pio -Estrada, rode into the clearing. It was noticeable then, in the light -from the replenished fires, that no one of them was laden with the -plunder from the hold-up of the Seville-to-Madrid. The chances were that -they had left the telltale sacks of mail and conglomerate loot in the -posada of some protecting cacique, or buried them between the concrete -feet of some windmill, or cached them between the boulders in some gully -in the foothills. - -The three dismounted. With gratification they shook out their -saddle-cramped limbs. Jacinto Quesada led his own horse and that of -Felicidad over to one of the wagons and picketed them to a wheel. As he -did, a nut-brown chit of a girl came and stood before him. - -"You are that arrogant and absolute one, Jacinto Quesada!" she asked -with rising inflection. - -Jacinto Quesada nodded without speaking. The Gypsy girl looked at him in -a way that gave him a singular feeling. Boldly she measured him with her -eyes, appraised him. Her glance was at once inquisitive, prying, -annoying, and yet ardent and approving. She had, too, the strange slow -stare peculiar to persons of the Gypsy race, that fixed uncouth look -that makes one feel much as if one were being hypnotized by a serpent. - -"You are very young to be a bandolero," she remarked, half to herself. - -Once again Quesada nodded without speaking. - -"You are altogether unlike the bandoleros I have seen." - -"It is the deed, senorita," said Quesada. "The deed makes us -bandoleros--not the length of our limbs nor the cast of our faces." - -"But you are very handsome!" she said. "You are as handsome as the very -Hyperion himself!" - -Surprised at the ardor with which she said these words, Quesada looked -at her with a more curious interest. Small but oddly statuesque, a -superbly shaped figurine in her close-clinging calico dress of glowing -vermilions and blazing saffrons, she stood with head ecstatically -upraised toward him, her dusky eyes radiant with admiration. She -thrilled a little toward him, her olive bosom undulating deeply and -slowly. - -"Who are you, child?" he asked. - -"Paquita. I am the daughter of Pepe Flammenca." - -Without comment, he made to return to the group about the fires. But she -stayed him with a hand upon his arm. - -"Tell me," she asked, panting with eagerness; "have you murdered many -men on the mountains and on the plains?" - -"Carajo, no! No man have I killed as yet, though I have battled with -many," returned Quesada, wounded in his manhood. "I am but a simple -Moor, not a ferocious beast that lusts to slay." - -"But you are magnificent with pride and courage!" - -"I love the fierce ecstasy of the running fight, the hand-to-hand -skirmish! But there is little cold murder, know you, in my bowels. Now, -leave me, _ninita_!" - -Impatiently, he thrust her hand from his arm and started away. But she -put herself before him, and once again uplifted her face and bathed him -in the gaze of her ardent eyes. And she cried, her voice tremulous with -a kind of passion: - -"Don Jacinto, I have never before met any one like you! You are bold and -imperious, you are savage and mighty, but you are not weakly cruel! And -ah, you are handsome--handsome as the very Hyperion himself!" - -She suddenly burst into tears and fled away. Quesada looked after her, -perturbed, amazed, and sorely puzzled. Her conduct was altogether -inexplicable. But the underwood hid her from further sight. He shrugged -his shoulders as one who should say, "She is only a Gypsy, poor thing!" -and returned to the fires. His meal awaited him. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - - -After they had garnished their stomachs with the puchero, they sat -brooding around the three fires, the girl, Felicidad, and Jacinto and -his three ruffians. The Gypsy lad with the shirt open to the waist and -the yellow sash brought out his battered accordion again and played upon -it for their entertainment. - -He made it scream and exult obscenely; he made it lament like a fallen -angel. He made it sing wild and wanton songs of Gypsy love; he made it -chant of Gypsy treachery and Gypsy chiromancy. When you heard its -uncouth and haunting assonances, you believed in the Evil Eye, the -_Querelar nasula_; in the _Hokkano Baro_, the Great Trick; and even in -the _Chiving Drao_, that sorcery by which the Gitanos cause horses to -become sick and glandered, and swine to die as suddenly as if poisoned. -In short, you believed all you ever had heard of the strange doings of -the Zincali! - -The hours fled by. Those about the fires grew sleepy. One by one, the -Gypsy wenches withdrew into their tents. Then the girl Paquita spoke to -Felicidad and led her away. They lay down to sleep that night--the -highborn young lady and the girl of common Gypsy clay--in a certain -wagon of the Gitanos. To that wagon came Jacinto Quesada and his three -dorados, a short time later, and upon the open sward before it, threw -themselves, their ponchos wrapped around them to protect them from the -night cold and dew. - -After breakfast next morning, Quesada talked long and earnestly with -Pepe Flammenca. - -"You had best remain in camp, at least this morning," advised the Gypsy -count. "Up above, there is going to be a great _monteria_, and there -will be many men upon the mountains. Some one may see the Senor Don -Jacinto and report it to the police." - -"It is good, friend Pepe. And the other matter?" - -Flammenca called aloud in the Gypsy _gerigonza_. Instantly followed a -scene of extraordinary liveliness and interest. Flammenca, Quesada, -Perez, Ignacio Garcia, and Estrada sat cross-legged on the grass. -Flammenca's Gypsy lads led before them, first the horses of Quesada and -his dorados, and then the three- and four-year-olds attached to the -Gypsy caravan. There was a great chaffering; the various points of the -horses were appraised enthusiastically and with minute care. It was an -impromptu horse fair. Wherever found, whether in Spain, England, Russia, -Hungary, or the United States, the true Gypsy is an expert _chalan_ or -horse trader. - -When all the bargaining was over, Quesada and his dorados discovered -they had not got off second best. They had acquired five new horses, -unfatigued and glossy coated after a fortnight in the barranca. Their -own jaded animals had come into the possession of Flammenca and his -bucks. - -"It would please the young lady who rides with us," said Quesada to the -Gypsy chieftain, "if she could change her attire for something more -suited to the saddle." - -"My Paquita will attend to the matter," returned Flammenca. "Let them go -together into one of the tents and find out whether their clothing be -fit to barter and whether their two pretty shapes are mates." - -The girl, Paquita, had been hovering about Jacinto Quesada all the -morning. At breakfast, she had anticipated his every desire, waiting on -him with silent devotion. Continually she kept her great dusky eyes upon -him, following him everywhere he went with a gaze abject and doglike in -its utterness of adoration. - -Now, Quesada drew forth a packet of tissue papers and a pouch of -tobacco, of a sudden and altogether unexpectedly, she stooped above him -and seized the papers and tobacco from his hands. Looking fixedly into -his astonished eyes, she rolled a cigarette, wetting the edges with her -lips. Then she handed the _papelito_ to him, made a long obeisance, and -turned away. - -Her father chuckled and gave her the word to take Felicidad apart and -find her fit riding clothes. She withdrew, looking over her shoulder at -Quesada with passionate Gypsy eyes. - -Sometime later, she and Felicidad came out of the tent into which they -had vanished, and Felicidad wore a brown jacket and a brown bisected -riding skirt, both rather the worse for wear, and Paquita was completely -attired in Felicidad's green traveling dress. The Gypsy girl looked very -charming in the more conventional attire, what of her nut-brown skin -and dye-black hair against the contrasting green. - -She walked about the clearing with the grace of a she-leopard, -continually smoothing the tight, revealing skirt over her hips, and -rearranging and patting her hair which she had put up in imitation of -Felicidad. Preening herself thus, she smiled often in a frank and -childlike pleasure in herself. But there were no men about to admire -her. - -Quesada's dorados had gone behind the wagons to currycomb and further -polish their new horses. The Roms, every last dishevel-headed and -swarthy-faced lad, had left the camp immediately after the conclusion of -the horse trading. Led by Pepe Flammenca, they had stalked silently up -the barranca, their Mausers and Mannlichers couched tenderly in their -arms. - -They were bound for the heights above the barranca. There, in the -tag-end mountains of the Sierra Morena, a great monteria, or mountain -drive, was under way that day. Senor D. Pablo Lario de Quinones was the -host. He was a rich Catalan who had made his millions in the cork -industry. He had purchased two or three of the mountains for a sporting -estate, and in one of the higher passes he had erected a shooting box. -It was the only habitation within miles, for he had ousted the few -native mountaineers from their landholds. - -Among his guests for this particular monteria were many Spanish -notables, high and mighty ones of Letters, the State, and the Church, as -well as several foreign ambassadors and their attachés. The Duke of -Fernan Nuñez, the Duke of Medinaceli, the Marquis of Viana, the Conde -de Agrela, the Marquesa de Manzanedo, Colonel Barrera and Senor D. I. L. -de Ybarra were among the crack guns invited. - -Lario de Quinones had his own pack of _podencos_, or hunting dogs--a -_recoba_ of about forty dogs. But, as is the custom of the sporting -gentry of Spain, certain of his guests--the Duke of Fernan Nuñez, the -Conde de Agrela, and Colonel Barrera--had brought with them their own -packs of podencos and their own huntsmen, to reinforce De Quinones' pack -and make the drive a more stupendous affair. - -Now, Pepe Flammenca and his Gypsy lads were arrant trespassers on the -hunting grounds of the grandees. Should the mountaineers who served as -beaters and extra huntsmen come upon them in the brushwood, they would -thrash them unmercifully and drive them out of the mountains at the -points of their guns. But Pepe Flammenca and his bucks were hardened and -desperate poachers. It was their plan to skulk along the line of the -drive and to hide themselves in thickets near the _armada_ or firing -line of gentlemen sportsmen; and should a wounded stag come bounding -toward their places of concealment, it would be most swiftly killed and -most swiftly borne away to their camp. - -A head or two of game would not be missed, nor a rifle report away to -one side cause much sensation in all that great to-do of the monteria. -To drown the sound of the poachers' guns, there would be the baying and -tinkling of bell-carrying dogs, the trumpeting of huntsmen upon their -_caracolas_, the shooting of blank cartridges to announce that some -game-beast had been jumped, the crashing of beaters through the thorny -cistus, and the running reports of magazine rifles along the _rayas_ or -open rides. - -After the poaching Gypsies had gone on their quest, Quesada sauntered -down to the brook. Here, where an arcade of oleanders shaded a tiny -white beach, he seated himself upon a huge stone above a pool. He busied -with watching the trout in the riffles and with spying upon two water -shrews that swam beneath the surface of the slack water, and dipped and -dived, seeking everywhere for food. For something like half an hour, -these velvety-black little creatures engrossed Quesada's attention. -Then, as pebbles tinkled down near at hand, he looked up to see the girl -Paquita coming down the bank. - -She seated herself beside him on one end of the stone, swinging her bare -brown feet above the pool. - -"You have not said that I look very pretty in this green Spanish dress," -she said at length. "But that is your thought, is it not? It would not -be difficult for me to be the proud and aristocratic lady, eh, man? But -I would rebel if I must wear shoes! I think my sun-burnt little feet are -prettier naked as they are!" - -Quesada smiled and continued to smoke his cigarette. - -She leaned her body against the bole of the tree behind, and clasped her -hands behind her head, and thoughtfully regarded him. After a time, she -said: - -"Tell me, caballero of my soul--tell me, have you ever loved a Gypsy -girl, a brown, soft-cooing maiden of the Zincali who was sugar and wine -to kiss, and velvet and Filipino silk to caress?" - -No, Jacinto Quesada had not. - -"It is not too late, intrepid one, to make amends! Any Gypsy wench would -be most glad to have you for a lover. Even a Gypsy count's daughter, -even the loveliest Gypsy maid in all the Spains, would not be too proud -to cling to your kisses, Busno though you be! Don Jacinto, -I--I--Paquita--could love you, and no trouble at all!" - -Persistently, he watched the water shrews in the runlet. - -"Am I not prettier than she?" - -"Of whom do you speak?" - -"This highborn lady, this slow-blooded and cold aristocrat--she who is -as pale as a sickly lily, as slender and ungraceful as a growing -boy--this Felicidad!" - -"I would not say she is too slender, Paquita; I would not say she is too -pale! It is only that her sort of beauty does not please you, because it -is not the Gypsy kind with which you are familiar." - -"It is not that, Don Jacinto! I have seen her unclothed, I have seen her -costumed only in her alabaster skin. There she stood in as much -loveliness as the Senor Don Dios had thought fit to give her. And I -looked her up and down with a woman's eye. _Chachipe_! the wench had -nothing of fascination and beauty about her that I have not! She is -young, yes, and soft, yes, and smooth of skin, and somewhat gracefully -shaped. But she is at least three years older than I, and she is no -more a woman, no better rounded. My breasts are as fully blossomed and -alluring! My--" - -"Paquita, you are indiscreet!" - -"Indiscreet? I, a Gypsy girl, indiscreet? Don Jacinto, we Gitanas are -never indiscreet! A kiss or two, an errant arm about the waist, or a -hand upon the breasts--what of that? An uncovered bosom, a shapely leg -bared to the knee--there is little evil in that. But if you venture too -far, if you touch upon our honor, thinking that we and honor to each -other are strangers--Tate! you will find a dirk has nosed its way -between your ribs!" - -She laughed mockingly, showing her fine white Gypsy teeth. - -"Am I indiscreet in speaking as I did about this girl of the Busne? Did -I not undress and dress her with my own hands?" - -"But you need not tell these things to me. I think her beautiful to -death!" - -"Oh, you cannot love her!" - -"Love her? I do not know." - -"Ah, but if you once turned your eyes upon poor wistful me--chachipe! -you would soon know whether you loved me! I would make you hunger for me -like a famished wolf, I would make your blood race and burn! When I -danced the jota, or the Romalis, or merely moved languorously about, you -would suffer all the thirsty bitterness of hell, all the exalted sweets -of heaven!" - -Jacinto Quesada looked away. - -"But I do not desire to love you, Paquita." - -"Si, si; but ah, if you only would! Could you not love me only a -little--you who are so proud and courageous, you who are so strong and -absolute?" - -Jacinto Quesada turned his head and plunged his austere glance into her -deep yearning eyes. - -"Paquita," he said, not coldly, but without any weakness of pity, "it is -because I am strong and absolute that I cannot love you. When your eye -caresses me with its look, your tongue with its subtle flattery, my -masculinity rebels at the thought of being wooed by a woman; I am -revolted, sickened! Fling your soul with the same impetuosity and -passion to some Gypsy lad, and he may love you; but I--no, never I!" - -She groaned aloud, knowing full well that he spoke a primitive truth. -But she could not help yearning toward him, her face bloodless with -desire. - -Said he, "If you would but flee away from me, or shudder when your -glance meets mine, or even treat me with disdain and coldness, perhaps -then--who knows? But I must be the predatory one, the seeker, the -stalker! Else I cannot love." - -He made as if to rise. But before he could get upon his feet, she leaped -up and bent above him and kissed him full upon the lips. Then swiftly -and blindly she fled. - -Once she had gone, Quesada did not bestir himself. He sat gazing -morosely into the limpid tarn below his rock. - -From a great distance, from away up in the mountains, there dropped down -vaguely to his ears the ringing note of a pack of hounds in full cry. -Came also, every little while, the bark of rifles remote and far. -Quesada gave no heed to these sounds. All through the morning, the -mountain airs had wafted through the barranca vagrant notes of this same -refrain. - -Very suddenly, however, Quesada heard, from much nearer at hand, the -voices of men shouting and hallooing. He heard his own name called. The -voices drew nearer. The shouting men were in the barranca itself; they -were noisily proceeding through the rattling underwood. He heard them on -the path above his nook by the pool, still calling his name. He did not -lift his voice in reply, nor even turn his head. But suddenly, from the -bushes within touch of his hand and right behind his head, a voice spoke -out, sharply, peremptorily: - -"Aupa, Don Jacinto! There is no time to be lost. Already they are -entering the gateway to this barranca!" - -Looking over his shoulder, Quesada saw, no more than a yard in the rear -and peering through a hole in the bushes, an uncouth disheveled face -like the face of a satyr or faun--the Gypsy-eyed, bronzed, and -grizzle-bearded face of Pepe Flammenca. - -"Of whom do you speak?" asked the bandolero. - -Answered Pepe Flammenca; "Of Manuel Morales and his fantastic -cabalgadores!" - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - - -"We chanced to look down from a great rock on the mountain above," -explained Pepe Flammenca, as swiftly he and Quesada returned to the -clearing, "and we saw them moving across the broad sallow face of the -plain, like slow-crawling sticky flies. For quite a time we watched -them, wondering if they would come this way. They approached across the -high plains, making straight for the entrance to this barranca. They -ascended the hills, and then I returned alone to warn you that they -would be here shortly. My lads continued on without me. They will skulk -along the fringe of the Senor Don Pablo's great monteria, and I am -willing to swear they will not come back empty-handed." - -"You counted the cabalgadores--there were nine?" - -"Seguramente, yes. And the noses of their carbines flashed like leaping -trout in the sun. And two wore scarlet, two yellow, and another green. -The green one was Morales himself, yes?" - -Quesada nodded shortly. - -"They did not ride with impetuosity, you say; they rode painfully slow? -We have still time then, friend Pepe, to make a clean get-away before -they climb through the barranca. With but fifteen minutes' grace I will -guarantee to show my heels to the fleetest caballeros in all the -Spains!" - -They entered the clearing. Before one of the tents of many colors sat -Felicidad like a golden-headed queen. A little court of scantily clad, -brown-limbed Gypsy toddlers were ringed about her, engaged in lisping -the songs of the Zincali for her entertainment. The verses sounded very -strange coming from those soft baby lips; for the words were all of -love, ardent and free, of murder and revenge, and of theft and -treachery. - -His amber Moorish eyes liquid and softly glowing, Jacinto Quesada halted -a few feet off, and watched her and listened. A tousle-headed urchin of -nine, his only uniform an abbreviated and airy shirt, stepped forward -and chanted, with gusto, "The Laws of Romany": - - "O never with the Gentiles wend, - Nor deem their speeches true; - Or else, be certain in the end - Thy blood will lose its hue. - - "There runs a swine down yonder hill, - As fast as e'er he can, - And as he runs he crieth still, - Come, steal me, Gypsy man. - - "To blessed Jesus' holy feet - I'd rush to kill and slay - My plighted lass so fair and sweet, - Should she the wanton play. - - "Thy sire and mother wrath and hate - Have vowed against me, love! - The first, first night that from the gate - We two together rove. - - "The girl I love more dear than life, - Should other gallant woo, - I'd straight unsheath my dudgeon knife - And cut his weasand through; - Or he, the conqueror in the strife, - The same to me should do. - - "O, I am not of gentle clan, - I'm sprung from Gypsy tree; - And I will be no gentleman, - But an Egyptian free." - -Felicidad looked up and flushed to a carnation color under the ardor of -his eyes. Then, looking away, she asked, "What is it, Jacinto?" - -"Come, my Felicidad! The sun is already high in the sky; it will be -thirsty-hot on the upper slopes of the mountains. Let us mount and -ride." - -Pepe Flammenca had gone through the underwood seeking Rafael Perez, -Garcia, and Pio Estrada; he found them out behind the wagons, busily -engaged in currycombing and burnishing their new horses. Now he returned -with the three at his heels, himself and two of Quesada's dorados -bearing a raffle of harness in their hands and saddles on their -shoulders, and the third leading by their halters the five barebacked -animals. - -At once and swiftly, Quesada's ruffians commenced to cinch the saddles -upon the horses. Despite haste, the work was done most efficiently. - -Quesada called Pepe Flammenca aside. He had become possessed of a new -idea. He and the Gypsy chieftain put their heads together. Then Quesada -called Rafael Perez over to them with a beckon of the hand. Perez, too, -joined in the low-whispered zipizape of words. An impudent and fantastic -intrigue was plotted out, then and there, by that assorted trinity. As -they separated again, Jacinto Quesada asked with sudden doubt: - -"Will it be very difficult to change the appearance of Perez?" - -"Not for Pepe Flammenca! Am I not of the Zincali? We of the Zincali can -make a young horse seem old and decrepit, and an old horse show as much -fire and hauteur as an unbroken stallion! And chachipe! we can change a -black horse to white, and a piebald one to the color of tobacco! It is -very simple, Don Jacinto, for the Children of Egypt." - -"If you can make me pleasing to look at," chuckled Rafael Perez, "you -will do wonders!" - -Then he and Pepe Flammenca went together into the tent of the Gypsy -chieftain, a more imposing tent than the others. His horse thereupon was -led back behind the wagons and its harness hung upon the limb of a tree. - -"Let us not tarry now. Aupa, you!" commanded Jacinto Quesada. - -At the command, Pio Estrada and Ignacio Garcia flung themselves upon -their horses. Quesada stood beside the horse of Felicidad and made a cup -of his hands. The golden-haired girl put her little foot in the cup and -was lifted into the saddle. - -Then Quesada walked over to the tent of Pepe Flammenca to say a final -word to Rafael Perez. Unaided by a mirror, Rafael Perez was shaving -himself with care and yet with extreme haste. Pepe Flammenca sat -cross-legged at his feet, mixing a dark stew of pigments in an -age-blackened calabash. - -"I go, Rafael Perez," said Jacinto Quesada, poking his head under the -flap. "I abandon you to your vices, and to Manuel Morales and his -cabalgadores. Be prudent and discreet and sagacious, for henceforth you -must enterprise single-handed and under cover. And may God go with -thee!" - -"And with thee, Don Jacinto of my soul!" - -Quesada came back and threw himself astride his horse. "Adelante!" he -commanded. The three men and the girl Felicidad filed slowly, on -horseback, out of the clearing. - -As they proceeded up the shadow-haunted alleys of the barranca, their -pace quickened. At a smart trot they were approaching the upper end -when, all at once, they were confronted by a girl who lingered beside -the way. It was Paquita--Paquita with a pink rhododendron in her -blue-black hair. - -"You here, Paquita?" Quesada blurted. He was in the lead, and the girl -disclosed herself with such surprising suddenness that she seemed a -spirit conjured up in a blink of the eye. - -"I waited here to say farewell to you, senor caballero of my heart," she -replied. He made to push by, but she put her hands on stirrup and leg, -yearning close. And panting with eagerness, she cried: - -"Take me with you, Don Jacinto! For love of you I will give up wandering -and all my other Gypsy ways! We shall have a cabana hidden somewhere in -the mountains and secure from the Guardia Civil, and there you will -repair to be made blissful by me! Take me with you, or I shall sicken -and die, for I love you so ardently that I am consumed by fires within!" - -"For shame, girl! I am a Busno--I am of another race!" - -She got on tiptoe and clasped her bare arms about his waist and clung -tenaciously, passionately. - -"Leave me behind then, but first--kiss me! Taste of my lips, they are as -sweet as the sweetest! Wrap me in your arms so that I suffocate! Then -kill me, if you will! Gladly would I die under your hands--death is -better than to be disdained by you!" - -Quesada, appalled by the strength and ferocity of her passion, drew -away. He felt shame before Felicidad. His face aflame, he cried angrily, -"I will have nothing to do with you!" And he started on again. - -Very suddenly, then, her whole look changed. The ardent light fled from -her eyes; forlornly her hands dropped to her sides; her slim girlish -figure drooped and wilted. Most woebegone and piteous was she to see. -And her voice a plaintive, fluttering sob, she called after him: - -"Little caballero of the handsome face, there is a great tree at the -entrance to this barranca--a wild olive that stands alone and waiting -like a young bandolero who attends in patience until the coming of -nightfall and his brown Gypsy love. There will be a fine moon to-morrow -night." - -"It is of no importa!" said Quesada, without looking back. "There shall -be no more meetings of you and me. Go thou with God!" - -The girl quivered beneath the scorning words like a flame harshly blown -upon. But suddenly she pulsed rigid; a heat sharp as pepper, bitter as -bile, violent as the sun, coursed through her veins; her face grew ashy -and drawn, her dusky eyes glittered like a cat's. Like a cat she was -then, like a beautiful she-leopard wounded into a barbarous and terrible -ferocity. - -"Go thou!" she screamed--"Go thou with Satanas, the foul-smelling, the -gangrened! You are not a man; you are a putrescent sore, an ulcer, a -leprosy! I hate you, I loathe you, and I will have your life taken from -you some day!" - -She ran after him, shrilly screaming her rage. She was a virago, a -witch-woman! She picked up a stone and flung it after him. It struck the -horse of Felicidad upon the withers. She picked up more stones and flung -these. And a thousand vile curses she flung also. Coming thus from a -woman's lips, they were worse than an abomination of sound; they were a -pollution, a hideous obscenity. - -Even Quesada's ruffians were appalled. For himself, Quesada was most -glad that the horse of Felicidad was the one struck by the first stone. -In a panic, it galloped away. She was soon out of earshot. - -They hurried after her. - - - - -CHAPTER XV - - -Not at once did the girl Paquita return to the camp of the Gitanos. Her -low broad brow clouded with sullen anger, her dusky eyes somber and -morosely smoldering, she clambered swiftly down the rocks of the -watercourse. In the precipitancy of her descent, in the headlong hurry -and indecorum with which she moved through swale and sunlight and -between boulders and clumps of rhododendron, there was yet something of -cold decision and steadfastness to purpose. She came out, at last, on -the tiny beach of white sand beside the pool. - -A red cloth on a rock caught her eye. She snatched it up and clenched it -to her heart. It was the head-kerchief of Jacinto Quesada. When but -lately he had sat and gloomed on that boulder above the pool, he had -dropped it from his pocket and gone off unawares. - -She replaced the red headcloth upon the boulder. It lay there in a -crumpled crimson heap, and it pulsed a little as its folds eased out. It -looked like a dying heart. - -From some recess in her bosom, the girl Paquita drew forth a small -moleskin sack on a string and shook its contents out upon the top of the -rock. There was a looking-glass, smaller than the palm of her small -brown hand. There was a flint and a bit of steel. There was a chunk of -lodestone, the magnetic iron-ore which the Gypsies of Spain call _La -Bar Lachi_ and which they claim is possessed of a thousand magical and -miraculous properties. There were, also, a half dozen other uncouth -Rommany charms and talismans. - -She propped the hand-glass upright against the crumpled head-kerchief. -She fell to her knees before it. With an unwavering and strangely -intense gaze, with a stark contemplation, she stared into the eyes -reflected from the mirror. - -Five minutes, then ten snailed painfully by. The process of -self-hypnosis went on. She was like one transfixed by a hooded cobra. -Her body grew gradually rigid, and her breathing ever deeper and slower. -At last she seemed not to breathe at all. Her eyes vacant and numbly -fixed, she rose slowly to her feet. - -She crossed the tiny beach of clean white sand. She stooped with a -fluent graceful flexure at the brim of the pool, filled her hands with -wet sand, and slowly pressed and molded that wet sand into an uncouth -little image of a man. - -The diminutive effigy she deposited upon the beach, setting it upright -on its vaguely defined and overbroad feet. A second time, she stooped at -the water's edge, filled her hands with sand, and again packed and -shaped that wet sand into a squat little figure. Only this time the -effigy bore a crude but easily perceived resemblance to a woman. - -She deposited the one image on the beach beside the other. She gathered -dry leaves and scraps of tinder-rot and made two little piles of them, -each before a tiny figurine. She returned to the boulder, swathed the -lodestone in the red headcloth and, lodestone and cloth in hand, bore -them back across the beach. And everything was done with extreme -slowness, with acute and painful deliberation. She was like a -somnambulist in a walking sleep. - -She fetched the flint and the steel from the boulder. She could execute, -it seemed, only one errand at a time. She dropped to her knees above one -of the tiny piles of dry leaves and tinder-rot, and busied herself with -the flint and steel. So soon as the one leafy hillock commenced to burn -bravely, she translated its flame. The other little bonfire cackled with -a like eagerness and gusto. - -Stepping back from her uncouth little idols and tiny sacrificial fires, -she undid a catch here and another catch there, and her shoulders and -then her hips emerged from the green gown, and the gown fell in a -swishing billow about her brown bare feet. Clad only in her olive-pale, -satin-smooth and satin-glowing skin, she stepped out of the atoll of -green cloth and commenced a slow and strange dance there upon the sands. - -It was not a dance voluptuous or obscene. It was a solemn dance of -statuesque attitudes, and flowing flexures, and ceremonious pauses. Very -like was it to some ritualistic dance of the sacerdotal dancing boys of -the Cathedral of Toledo. And yet there was in it a taint of sorcery and -demonolatry. - -She stooped at the water's edge to dip therein her hands. Dancing on, -she shook a few drops of water from her finger tips down upon the -flames. Smoke arose, a gust of smoke for each trinity of drops. The -while her eyes remained fixed and vacant and she danced slowly, she -chanted a sort of weird incantation in the gerigonza of the Zincali. - -Her voice was very low and came as with great effort. This was the -rigmarole she chanted, translated from the Romany, which is descended -from the Sanskrit and which it much resembles: - - "To the Mountain of Olives one morning I hied, - _Three_ little black goats before me I spied, - Those _three_ little goats on _three_ cars I laid, - Black cheeses _three_ from their milk I made; - The _one_ I bestow on the lodestone of power, - That save me it may from all ills that lower; - The _second_ to Mary Padilla[1] I give, - And to all the witch hags about her that live; - The _third_ I reserve for Asmodeus[2] lame, - That fetch me he may whatever I name." - -[Footnote 1: Mary de Padilla, a notorious witch of Medieval Spain and -mistress of Peter the Cruel of Castile (1333-1369).] - -[Footnote 2: Asmodeus, an evil demon. Appears in later Jewish traditions -as "king of demons." Also Beelzebub and Apollyon. Familiarly called the -genius of matrimonial unhappiness, or jealousy.] - -The rhythm of that solemn dance grew ever more sprightly. Her languor -dropped from her like a discarded shift. Faster and faster her brown -bare feet beat the sands. She leaped ecstatically in air. Suddenly the -dance ended in a whirl of exaltation. Then, for a long minute, she stood -like one petrified, like a statue sculptured in onyx, her brown arms -upflung, her face uplifted and sublimated. And in the voice of a -demoniac, she screamed: - -"Oh, _el buen Baron_! O Asmodeus the Lame! Send an evil upon the -arrogant head of the stripling Quesada, he who tore the heart from my -virgin breast and then ground it beneath his heel as though it were a -ball of dung! Accursed was the salt placed in his mouth in the church -when he was baptized, the vile Busno! He is too disdainful of me, too -contemptuous! Send a black evil upon him and his, O Asmodeus! O -Apollyon! By the three black little goats and the three black little -cheeses, I invoke you! - -"Humble him, break his heart of arrogant cold granite by making those he -loves most fondly fall into fevers and die like flies in a frost! Send -an evil of hideous disease upon those about him! Make those about him -fall ill of horrid discharges and cramps of the stomach; then weaken -them by causing them to vomit a gray pasty whey; then turn their bodies -to blue and purple, and then let them die within twelve or twenty-four -hours! - -"Break his spirit as my father breaks the spirit of a proud black -stallion, O Asmodeus the Lame! Do this for thy handmaid and votaress, do -this for Caste Sonacai, known to the Busne as Paquita, the child of -Flammenco Chorolengro, hetman of the clan of Barolengro and count of the -people of Zend!" - -You must know that the Gypsies of Spain practice a magic of two kinds. -Their magic of the first kind is compounded of pure bunkum and fraud. -Always in public do they practice this charlatanry and upon gullible -Gentiles whom they hope to hocus-pocus and swindle out of a few pesetas. -When they tell a buena ventura, or fortune, by crossing the dupe's palm -with a piece of the dupe's gold, this is the sort of arrant nonsense -they practice. The Hokkano Baro, the Great Trick, is another of their -thieves' devices. The Ustilar Pastesas and the Chiving Drao are still -others. In not one of the swindling tricks mentioned do they use any -true clairvoyancy or authentic warlockry; it is all sleight-of-hand and -humbuggery. At this kind of magic the Gypsies laugh loudest themselves. - -Those who in public practice magic in order to hoodwink others, always -practice in secret another sort of magic which they consider the true -magic, and in which they devoutly believe. This is dogma. Did not the -priests of ancient Egypt make magic in public to the cat-headed god -Bast, the bull Ptah, and the lioness Sakhmi whom they despised as images -of stone and machinery, but to whom they salaamed that the ignorant -rabble might continue to be hoodwinked? And did not those same priests -make magic in secret to the one true God? Thus with the Gypsies. In -secret they practice another and second kind of sorcery which they -believe in with a fanatic faith! - -And that was the kind of magic the girl Paquita practiced in secret down -on the tiny beach by the oleander-arcaded pool. Her execration solemnly -concluded, the beautiful and youthful dealer in the warlockry of the -Roms became again a hot wind of action. Swiftly she ran to the pool, -filled her cupped hands with water, and as swiftly came back again. - -The fires had died down into twin nests of coals. She cast no water upon -them. What water she carried in her cupped hands, she threw upon that -little sand image which resembled a man. - -Without pausing to watch the havoc she played with her handiwork, she -repeated the action, this time throwing water upon the little effigy -which looked vaguely like a woman. Then, her midnight-black hair falling -about her face and her dusky eyes burning from beneath the obscuring -oily threads with a strange sibylline fire, she crouched on her brown -bare heels before the two sodden hillocks of sand. - -Now, when standing upright, the two little images of sand had seemed -mated divinities, bound together by a common majesty. In their downfall -and watery ruin, however, one might say that they had become -antagonized; there was that in the way they fell which suggested a -coldness between them, a rift, a void. In melting and crumbling, the two -watersoaked little images had fallen gently away from each other. - -Paquita got up and shook back the hair from her face. Her face was -flushed, her eyes glowing with glad triumph. She laughed long and -arrantly. - -"It is written in the sands!" she exclaimed. "She will never have -Jacinto Quesada for her bridegroom. It is written; it has been shown to -me! Never will those two lie down together on the bed of marriage! And a -plague--even that hideous plague I asked for--shall come upon them; a -plague of low fevers and cramps of the stomach; a plague that shall -color their bodies blue and purple!" - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - - -Hypnosis is an abnormal cerebral state that soon wears off. As one who -wakes from a sleep or a spell, the girl Paquita now stretched her arms -wide, blinked her eyes, and looked swiftly over her shoulders and this -way and that. - -Then slowly, her head bowed in thought, her brow knotted in a little -puzzled frown, she walked to where lay rumpled on the sand her -ocean-green Spanish gown. She slipped into it, returned, stamped into -the beach the debris of the two images and then clambered up the rocks. -She left the watercourse behind, and neared the camp of the Gitanos. - -As she came through the trees that palisaded the clearing round, she -heard her father's voice and answering voices that she never before had -heard. She hesitated a moment, then crept forward quietly, almost to the -edge of the line of trees. Her body hidden by a bush, she parted the -screening foliage with her hands and looked out as through a little -window. - -Her father, Pepe Flammenca, known to the Gypsies as Flammenco -Chorolengro, stood face to face with an oddly attired stranger and with -him busily talked. The fantastic stranger was hardly thirty. He was a -little below the middle height, had a long body and short muscular legs, -and seemed all iron and strength. - -He wore the black rosette and ribbons of a matador in his coleta, his -queue--that long, thick, and sacred lock of hair all bullfighters wear -as the time-honored insignia of their ancient profession. His brown -Andalusian face was the typical young bullfighter's face--boyish, almost -effeminate with its mild contours. Upon his hands he wore riding gloves. -Over the shoulders of his short, gold-braided green jacket were slung -bandoleers crowded with cartridges. On a belt about his waist hung a -revolver and a sheathed knife. The pink silk stockings that clad his -legs were almost concealed by a pair of riding-boots of Cordovan -horsehide. - -Addressing Pepe Flammenca, he said, "A hundred times, in the last four -days, we have lost our way on the plains. And now we are about to -assault the defiles and goat paths of the Sierra Morena. We must have a -guide. You know the mountains; agree to guide us at your own price!" - -Behind him, standing in various attitude of attention, was a whole -background of men in oddly assorted costumes. When he spoke, they all -nodded assent like a Greek chorus, and remarked, "Si, si!" Evidently, -the young matador was their spokesman. - -"I cannot," Pepe Flammenca answered; "I must stay here. I am the chief -of this clan and must remain with my own people. But there is another -Gitano somewhere about the camp. To replenish our stock of wild meat, -the others went early away, but he and I stayed behind to look after the -horses and foals. With my permission, he can guide you. He knows the -Sierra Morena thoroughly. I will call him." - -Pepe Flammenca turned round, cupped his hands about his mouth and -bellowed, "Aguilino!" - -Came forth from behind the wagons, another man whom Paquita had never -laid eyes on before. - -He was clean-shaven, and brown as a mulatto. He wore the corduroy -leggings of a Gypsy and a red-striped shirt, and in true Zincali -fashion, his head was wrapped tightly with a red kerchief. Where his -left eyebrow once had been, was a hideous yellow scar that curved down -as far as the cheek bone. What with his harsh and evil features and his -mulatto-mahogany skin, this yellow scar gave him an altogether -villainous look. In his left hand, he held a currycomb. - -As the man approached, Pepe Flammenca turned to another of the strangers -and remarked: - -"When you first accosted me, after dismounting, you asked me for news of -the bandolero, Jacinto Quesada. Three times you asked me, and three -times I gave you the same reply. I was most truthful, but you were not -assured. You showed me a hand in which lay five gold coins. You thought -I had clenched my tongue between my teeth for some good reason, and the -sight of the red metal would make me loosen it. But even your tempting -golden Alfonsos did not cause me to lie. I have not seen Jacinto Quesada -in months, I repeat. I have had no word of him in months. Of his recent -movements I know nothing. - -"But question this buck of my clan, this Aguilino! You will be assured -of my honesty, then. I desire that. I know one of you to be Manuel -Morales, the greatest matador in all the Spains, and I desire Manuel -Morales to be convinced that Pepe Flammenca is no teller of lies." - -"I am convinced already, my friend!" interposed Morales at that. "Your -last words convince me." - -But another of the strangers, a foreign-looking hombre, proved more -cautious. - -"We will do what you say and question this man," he agreed in stilted -and strongly accented Spanish. "But first let us find out whether this -Little Eagle of yours will guide us through the mountains. That's the -most important business." - -The man with the foreign accent was big, broad-shouldered, fair-haired -and as smooth-shaven as any bullfighter. He was square of face, his jaw -was a round resolute knob, and his eyes were blue and very steady in -gaze. He was garbed in a dark sack suit of rather formal cut, a pair of -tan riding boots and a peaked Manchegan sombrero; and heavily equipped -with a belt of cartridges, a carbine and a Colt's automatic. It was the -American, John Fremont Carson. - -The nine fantastic looking cabalgadores closed about the ruffianly -Aguilino. They listened eagerly while Carson spoke to him in low -persuasive tones. At length Aguilino commenced nodding his head, saying, -"Si! I agree. Si! I will go with you." - -The tall Frenchman with the waxed mustache, Jacques Ferou, whispered -triumphantly in Carson's ear, "We have our guide. Now let fall the name -of Jacinto Quesada!" - -But the man Aguilino did not recoil at the sharp and sudden mention of -the bandolero. - -"Seguramente, yes; I have heard of him often. On the plains and in the -mountains. He is a most celebrated man. No, I have never seen him in the -flesh. Nor have I word of his recent movements. You say that he must -have passed this way either in the dark of last night or in the gray of -this very morning? Ah, senores, you do not know how many barrancas there -are that gutter these foothills! You do not know how like a shadow this -man Jacinto Quesada is--how like a fox that skulks and dodges and keeps -always his distance from the habitations and bivouacs of men such as we! -Jacinto Quesada come to our camp and break bread with us? Ah, senores, -senores, that would be too much honor!" - -The nine men exchanged glances of disappointment and dismay. They had -been altogether off in their guess. Jacinto Quesada had not stopped in -passing to hobnob with the Gypsies. He had not passed that way at all. -The cabalgadores felt themselves like beagles who mill around and bark -in vain braggadocio. Jacinto Quesada had shaken them off his heels. -Neither sight nor smell of their game had they. - -At this disheartening stage, suddenly from the forest a nut-brown girl -in a green dress came out and stood before them. She was round limbed -and delicately graceful as any nymph or naiad of the glens and -waterfalls. Her dye-black hair hung loose upon her shoulders; two spots -of hot crimson burned on the roundness of her cheeks; and her eyes -pulsed like fiery opals. She seemed all aflame with some strong emotion. -In a throaty shaking voice, she cried out: - -"My father lies! This Aguilino whom I have never seen before--he too -lies! Jacinto Quesada has been here, in this very spot! He came to this -barranca in the dark of last night--he and three dorados and a tall -ungraceful wench, pale as a sickly lily! They were given food, they were -given shelter for the night. Then went away but two hours ago. They went -on up the canyon!" - -A sharp gust of wind shrilled through the barranca, rattling among the -trees overhead. The sky seemed suddenly to darken, the day to grow -colder. Pepe Flammenca snarled aloud, between bared fangs, in the -gerigonza of the Gypsies which the strangers did not understand: - -"You horrible flea, you maggot of the dung, you vile daughter of an -unfaithful mother! Into my _tan_ and say not another word! For every -word you have said, you shall pay with ten lashes of greenhide across -your bare back!" - -The cabalgadores could not know what he said, but they sensed the threat -shaking his voice. No one spoke or made a move. The girl looked at her -father a moment with eyes like cold gloomy mountain lakes, then moved -slowly toward the large tent of the hetman. Her lips were set in a -disdainful and a triumphant smile. - -About the clearing and above her head, the trees shook and swayed as in -an agony. Three great drops of water fell with the weight of leaden -bullets and made slow stains upon her green gown. The dog-grass, vetch -and darnels of the clearing lifted up and seemed to drink the air. A -storm was approaching. Leaves whirled about like a hundred excited -birds. - -Of a sudden, the girl Paquita paused near the tent to turn her head and -fling back the words: - -"I have not lied! Though my father will beat me for it, I have told the -truth! I hate Jacinto Quesada!" - -"Say another word, thou child of a witch-woman and a demon!" sibilated -Pepe Flammenca in the Gypsy gerigonza, "and I will kill thee with my -bare hands!" - -The girl Paquita entered the tent of her father, there to await him and -his whip of greenhide. - -Suddenly and with great gusto, it began to rain. Great drops of water, -lead-gray and heavy as shot, pelted down. The cabalgadores sought the -cover of the trees. But the trees afforded little shelter, as the rain -volleyed this way and that at the will of the gusts of wind, and each -drop seemed to hold a whole cupful of icy water. In a trice, the men -were wet to the skin. - -Pepe Flammenca motioned them to the tents. Manuel Morales, Jacques -Ferou, and the American, Carson, found themselves together beneath the -same protection of canvas and vari-colored rags. - -"What do you think?" asked Morales. - -"That she spoke the truth," returned the Frenchman. "She had on my -Felicidad's green traveling dress. Jacinto Quesada has indeed been -here." - -"But will that great bearded Gypsy beat the girl?" anxiously asked -Carson. - -The tall Frenchman shrugged his shoulders. - -"The Zincali are a strange people, _mon Americain_!" said he. "And, -besides, she said he is her father. Would you interpose between a father -and his daughter?" - -Carson subsided into a gloomy silence and looked about the tent. - -"But this guide, Aguilino," continued Ferou. "He lied to us, Morales. -Should we trust ourselves to his guidance?" - -"What would you?" returned Morales in Spanish fashion. "We must have a -guide in these mountains, and there is no one else to hire. Surely, this -Aguilino is better than no guide. We will watch him, we nine men, and -above all, we will go on." - -The American motioned them into silence. He nodded over his shoulder -toward the rear of the tent. Behind them, they saw a naked child asleep -on a blanket between two dogs and an old hag of a Gitana crouched in a -corner, her eyes alive and fixed unwaveringly upon them. - -The men remained wordless but they did not sit down. The smell of -unwashed bodies and much-used body blankets of a sudden breathed into -their nostrils. The tent was filthy. All at once, the three wished -themselves out in the sweet, clean, if wet open again. - -"What these folk need is education," whispered Carson in Morales' ear. -"Education can do everything!" - -"Education, si!" returned Morales in the same manner. "But what they -need more is some one with a lion heart, a great golden arrogant heart, -to lead them in the fight, to lead them up!" - -Jacques Ferou said nothing, but as he followed them out into the open, -he smiled his calculating and very superior smile. - -Outside, the very mountains above seemed to have melted away into opaque -sheets of driving water. The earth was sliding in brown streams from -under their feet. The barranca boomed like a thousand drums beaten by -mad Arabs. - -To make himself heard above the booming of the rain, Jacques Ferou -cupped his hands about his mouth and screamed into the faces of the -others: "Let us go back. Sacre, we are soaking water here!" - -"No!" returned the others, and they grimaced in disgust. But the rain -fell with such outrageous passion that it was unendurable; there was -naught to do but return within the tent. - -Driven to it, they sought the shelter of the tent once again, but found -it now a very poor shelter beneath that onslaught of rain. It leaked -like a Japanese paper umbrella. And all the time the trees ran with -heavy tears, and the rain flooded down with a tumultuous booming and a -morose persistency. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - - -That night, after the storm ceased and a spell before the moon rose, a -man of the Guardia Civil rode across hills sweetened by the rain, and -came in a roundabout way to the ancient wild olive at the portal of the -barranca of the Gitanos. Here he dismounted and waited like one keeping -a tryst, smoking innumerable cigarettes and kicking up the soft loam -impatiently. He was Miguel Alvarado. - -At length and on the sudden, he heard sounds as of some one coming -toward him down the canyon through the dripping leaves. He hearkened a -moment, then lifted his voice in a rich but gentle baritone: - - "Loud sang the Spanish cavalier, - And thus his ditty ran: - God send the Gypsy lassie here, - And not the Gypsy man." - -She came to him from out the trees, the wench Paquita. She was clad in a -dress of vermilions and yellows, those vermilions and yellows now -bedusked by the soft light of the night. In her hair was wound a green -scarf. And, as she approached, she sang the answering quatrain: - - "At midnight, when the moon began - To show her silver flame, - There came to him no Gypsy man, - The Gypsy lassie came." - -Impulsively he ran to meet her. They were like shadows that merged -together and became one. They trembled, they swayed; they swayed as the -wild olive swayed in the wind of the night. They kissed long and -ardently. Then she drew herself away, throwing her head back and holding -him off with arms rigidly extended. - -"Ah, Miguel, my caballero of the impetuous lips," she sighed, "I could -love you with all my heart and soul, but for one little thing!" - -"Carajo! what is that?" he asked, his voice sharp with anxiety and -eagerness. "Have I not always been the most adoring and tender of -lovers--aye, and the most voracious and headlong, too? Did I not hurry -pellmell for this meeting, the moment you sent word to me by that Gypsy -brat? What have I done to make you think dismally of me? How have I -displeased you? Tell me; I burn to know!" - -She suddenly drew herself to him and clung there once again, kissing his -lips and fondling his head with her hands. He shivered in every limb. He -moaned in an ecstasy of delight, and pressed her to him with such -impetuosity and gusto that it seemed as if his arms would break her body -in two. - -Beneath the ardor of his greedy embrace, the girl Paquita shuddered and -went very pale in the gloom. A scream rose in her throat but she -smothered it, unborn. Across her shoulders, under her gaudy gown, were -red raw furrows where her father's greenhide had bitten and seared her. -But she made no outcry, she gave no sign, though she was as one who has -been tortured horribly and then given up to the iron caresses of a -terrible, crushing machine. - -His arms relaxed somewhat after a little, and she lay upon his neck and -whispered: - -"It is not what you have done; you were always the perfect lover. It is -what you are. You are a policeman, one of those feared and hated and -despised by my clan. I feel shame in loving a man of the Guardia Civil; -there is something in my Gypsy blood that makes me feel that shame. It -is the uniform you wear, the things that it symbolizes." - -"We Guardias Civiles are the bravest of Spaniards. We are most brave and -mettlesome men, every one!" returned the young policeman slowly, seeking -to marshal his arguments in order. "Most Spanish girls are quick to love -us if only because of our smart uniforms and gallantry and daring. And -it is as natural for me to be a policeman as it is for you to be a -Gitana. My father is a sergeant of the police; he has been in the -Guardia Civil for thirty years. And all my male ancestors have been -Guardias Civiles back to the long-ago, when they were bandoleros and -outlaws who grew tired of being hunted and became Miquelets." - -"But if you were more like your ancestors, the Miquelets--ah, then I -could love you body and soul!" breathed the girl Paquita. And she went -on very softly: - -"Last night, there came to our camp in the barranca an outlaw, a -salteador de camino. He was strong, he was magnificently strong, and he -had a long absolute jaw and bold, proud, imperious eyes. About him, like -an odor, hung the reek of the imposing and cruel and terrible things he -had done. - -"It is natural for us Gitanas to love an outlaw; we Gitanas are outlaws -to the core, ourselves. And he was as arrogant as a Bourbon prince, or a -sheik of Barbary, or an Andalusian sun on a noonday; but he looked at me -only with the eyes of contempt, granite eyes. I made the fool of myself -by flinging my body and soul at his feet. He--" - -"Cascaras! what was his name?" cried Miguel Alvarado sharply. It was as -though a knife had been plunged into his side and twisted this way and -that. - -"He was the glorious bandolero, Jacinto Quesada!" - -"Jacinto Quesada! That swollen toad, that strutting mountebank in rags -and tinsel, that upstart, the zascandil! Por los Clavos de Cristo! and -you flung yourself at him?" - -"But he is altogether the arrogant and brave man, altogether the savage -and magnificent one!" - -"Carjo! he is only a mountaineer's brat. We grew up on opposite slopes -of the same mountain of the Sierra Nevada. His clodhopper of a father -sold firewood to the sweet mother of me! He is uneducated; has no -resource or originality. And he lacks entrails as well as brains! I am -more varonil, I tell you; more impetuous with headlong daring than he. -Were there a man such as Miguel Alvarado in the shoes of Jacinto -Quesada, there would be things done, I wot! But I will show you what is -what. I--" - -"Yes, yes, you will show me--how, when?" - -But to the ears of Miguel Alvarado the wind had borne sound of the to-do -raised by an approaching horse. He hearkened to that pounding and -clattering, looking down the sweep of foothills below the barranca. He -saw nothing just at once. But the sounds became more distinct, drew -nearer. Those sounds leaped toward them in great panther leaps. - -Suddenly a man on horseback came bounding over the hogback of a hill -right below. He wore the tight uniform and the businesslike look of a -man of the Guardia Civil. His policeman's three-cornered hat of shiny -leather shimmered in the light of the newly risen moon. With the -velocity and abandon of a French dragoon, he galloped full tilt up -toward the barranca. And as he came, he shouted: - -"Hola, Miguelillo!" - -"It is my officer, my parent!" whispered the young policeman, and he -swore softly in disappointment. Then, with the absolute obedience of -only a Spanish son, he shouted back: "Here I am, Don Esteban, my father! -What do you want of me?" - -The sergeant of police came up like a driving pillar of sand and -dismounted while his horse was in full charge. Swinging his quirta, he -advanced swiftly upon the pair. There was in him no sign of the weakness -of age. He had a short, knife-sharp white beard, and a face as lean and -haughty as a griffon vulture's. From his tricorn hat still hung down, -behind his head, a sun shield of white linen cloth. - -"Come away with me!" he ordered peremptorily. "I have word that Jacinto -Quesada is in the mountains near the Pass of Despenaperros. While -there's work to do for Spanish policemen, I'll not have you playing the -bear for the entertainment of any senorita in Spain, no matter how fine -the moon!" - -He peered into the soft shade beneath the wild olive. - -"Aha, the maiden is with you, I see! But, zut! this is bad. She and you -alone in this abandoned glen--has the girl no thought for what the -people of her village will say of her?" - -"The girl is a Gitana!" spoke up Paquita proudly. - -"A Gitana! Blood of Christ! my son keeping tryst with a Gitana! Have you -no respect for your Christian mother, you ungrateful whelp? Have you no -pride in your policeman father and in your ancestors that have been -keepers of the peace of Spain for a hundred years? Have you no thought -of the uniform you wear?" - -The father was severely angry. - -"This is disgraceful, this is vile, Alvarado, my son! A Gitana, eh! Come -away with me, at once. Come away, and no more words with this wanton -Gypsy wench, or I shall lay my quirta across your back!" - -The imperious old man turned on his heel, strode away, and leaped with -one lithe strong spring upon his horse's back. Miguel Alvarado turned -from the girl and moved reluctantly toward his own horse. He feared his -father too much to disobey him. He feared his father as he feared -neither God nor the Devil. He knew his father would beat him without -qualm or ruth at the first word or look of defiance or rebellion. - -Man-grown though he was, he could prove to you an acquaintance with his -father's rawhide quirta by merely baring his young body to the waist. -Spanish family life is the most solid and wholesome thing about Spain. -Spanish sons and daughters respect and revere those who gave them life; -they have been taught respect and reverence at the ends of whips. In the -same manner, Jehovah made the Israelites love him; and who, through all -the years of the world, have been more faithful to God than the stern -race of Jews? - -"I will be here, at this wild olive, ere the waning of three nights. At -midnight of the third night, meet me, Paquita, virgin of my soul!" -whispered Miguel Alvarado, bending down from the saddle. - -"You will tell me then what you will do?" she whispered in return. "You -will tell me then, will you not, my caballero of the impetuous lips and -the great courage? I will remain chaste as gold, pure as a sacrament, -for you, caballerete!" - -"I will prove to you that I am not unworthy of your great love, my -little one. This Jacinto Quesada--za!" - -He thundered away after his proud and haughty parent. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - - -Up from the misty profundities of the Llanos de Jaen climbed, like slow -obstinate flies, the nine fantastic cabalgadores of Manuel Morales. -Also, their guide, Aguilino. They were all afoot. With them, up the -altitudes of the pass, yearned seven pack mules, heavy and swollen with -great panniers of provisions. - -The nine Quixotes and their scarred wolf of a guide had put two weeks of -frugal living and heartbreaking toil between them and the barranca of -Pepe Flammenca and his unwashed Gypsy clan. Right off, they had lost one -horse and then another. The beasts had taken headers off mountainsides. -They had consulted with their guide, the man Aguilino. He gave them to -understand that horses were considered of very little worth in both the -Sierra Morena and the Sierra Nevada. For a caravan of asses, they -succeeded in bartering their horses with the arrieros, or muleteers, -going down. - -Now, after two weeks, they had at last won through the rolling torrent -of mountains called the Sierra Morena. They were inching themselves up -the long perpendicular miles of the windy gorge of the Llanos de Jaen. - -The Llanos de Jaen is very narrow. One would think one could hurl a -peseta across it, until one tried. Were it not for the chasmy gap of the -Llanos de Jaen, the Sierra Morena and the Sierra Nevada would be one -tremendous chain of mountains. - -Half-way up, a mule stumbled in turning the flank of a precipice and -took the leap, screaming like a soul thrown headlong to Hell. The nine -Quixotes clung to the rock wall and felt sick to their stomachs. The -mule seemed falling for a thousand years. They did not dare to look down -and see it strike. The mule was the one the guide Aguilino had been -leading. Perhaps a shove from him had sent it on its way to death. -Again, perhaps not. - -High above, upon the top of a glassy and steep _risco_ or overhanging -rock, a man had moored himself with a short rope of horsehide. He was -Jacinto Quesada. But he did not look the bandolero of the plains. Garbed -as he was in alpagartas or rope sandals, the better to grip the -precipitous ascents, and in sheepskin zamarra and long shawl as -protection against the cold, he looked the true mountaineer. - -With the vigilant application of an eagle eying its meat circling all -unaware beneath its lofty eyrie, Quesada had been watching the men climb -laboriously up the sheer of the pass. Now, as the mule fell to its -magnificent death, he nodded his head in approbation and remarked to -himself: - -"Rafael Perez has finally set to work, I see! That is the first poor -mule. But the whole seven must be disposed of, before Morales and his -men journey far through the Sierra Nevada." - -The nine Quixotes did not know Quesada was perched there, far above -them. Long ere they crawled up to the overhanging rock, he had -disappeared completely. Yet they felt sure that somewhere beyond, among -the snowy crags and moaning canyons of the Sierra Nevada, Quesada was -pursuing his way with the girl Felicidad. - -A day prior, just before leaping the Llanos de Jaen and coming out of -the Sierra Morena, they had stumbled, in a hollow of the hills, upon a -mud choza that had the gloomy aspects of a hiding place for bandoleros -and moonshiners. The peasant and his wife who lived in the hut had said -no to all their questions. No, they had not seen Jacinto Quesada. No, -they never had heard of him, they lived so far away in the mountains, -senores. Don Jesu, they would not know him from the great Morales -himself! - - -But their half-witted son, a tall, shock-headed, ungainly lad, was -struck by the appearance of the cavalcade and especially by the -colorful, if oddly assorted trapping of Manuel Morales. Poor lad, he had -never before seen such glorious caballeros. - -As the disheartened men had made to lead on their mules, he had crept to -the offside of Morales' beast and there, hidden from the view of his -father, he had engaged in a quick, fearful pantomime. - -"What is it?" queried Morales. - -Vehemently the feeble-minded lad had pointed on ahead, on toward the -Llanos de Jaen and the Sierra Nevada beyond. - -"He has gone that way!" he whispered. "Si, Jacinto Quesada himself and a -girl white as the snows that fall in these hills. He passed here two -days since. Into the Nevadas, into the Nevadas, he has gone, senor -don!" - -Morales believed him, believed him even more implicitly than if his mind -had been sound. Despite the dubious looks and shakes of the head upon -the part of the guide Aguilino, all the cabalgadores agreed that the -poor feeble-minded fellow would be incapable of perpetrating a -deception. With energy and ardor they had pressed on. - -Now, as they won to the bare-fanged wind-shrieking altitudes of the -pass, Morales and his men felt dizzy; their stomachs churned, their -heads were like gas-filled balloons. Sheerly below them dropped the -narrow, profound gutter of the Llanos de Jaen. It seemed composed of -three parts rock, standing on end, and seven parts air, giddying around -in a stew. They drew their eyes away. They felt as if they would like to -leave off clinging by their finger nails and slip down into the abysmal -void. - -They sank down upon the uneven spaces of a granite spire that was as a -needle for slimness. Into the north rolled away, like a gray sea of -mist, the massive ramifying Sierra Morena. To the south and ahead bulked -up, even more imposing of port, the lofty altitudes of the Sierra -Nevada. It was like some long and magnificent staircase, its lower steps -of mica schist overgrown with gum cistus, rhododendron, and broom, its -top a dazzling flow of snow. Crags and peaks, jungled windy cuts, -rock-bound alpine lakes, creamy knobs, and sharp obelisks saw-edged the -sublime blue like the teeth of some titanic rake. The white melting -heads of old Muley Hassan and the Picacho de la Veleta looked but a jump -away, and yet with the mighty distance, the pink and purple of -rhododendron, the white and pink of trailing arbutus and the green of -gum cistus and broom seemed all of the same hazy blueness. It was a -stupendous, overpowering jumble of cathedral mountains, colossal -mountains, awful mountains. - -"The Sierra Nevada has a scowling look," remarked Manuel Morales. "We -may thank the good Dios humbly and gratefully, if we come triumphant -through those solitudes and steeps." - -"We must not lose another mule," said Jacques Ferou. "There are no red -deer in the Sierra Nevada, nor wild boar, nor even mongoose. Is it not -so? The panniers of provisions are our only salvation." - -"And the mules may be eaten, too, when we're hungry enough," added -Carson grimly. "I've eaten worse meat in my day in Death Valley, -California." - -Aguilino the guide heard the remarks without a quiver of his scarred -eye. - -Late that afternoon, John Fremont Carson halted his mule on the eyebrow -of a cliff and the caravan crowded together at imminent risk of one or -more going overside. His beast had gone suddenly lame, Carson said. It -was standing on three legs, gray head drooping, and attempting every -little while to put down its fourth leg. - -"Carajo! The cattle must be shot!" said the guide Aguilino at first -glance. "The contents of its panniers can be apportioned among the other -mules." - -"Nothing doing," said Carson shortly. "We can't afford to lose a single -mule." - -"You are right, monsenor," agreed Jacques Ferou. "In the Sierra Morena, -the cabanas of the mountaineers were far between and few, and we -succeeded in keeping our strength only by killing our meat as we went. -Here, this Sierra Nevada seems as empty of men and wild meat as the -deserts of French Algiers. We must save all our panniers, all our -mules." - -"Let me see the lame foot!" spoke up Manuel Morales suddenly. As are -most bullfighters, Morales was wise in horseflesh and its kindred -species. He crouched, took the hoof between his knees and examined it -carefully. All at once his head snapped up. - -"You lagarto, you lizard, you sly trick one!" he shouted at the guide. -"What Gypsy trick is this?" - -He showed the mule's hoof to the others. Slightly protruding from the -inside of that hoof was the head of a nail. It had been driven straight -into the quick. - -"Come, you flea!" commanded Morales. "Get me a pair of pincers, a hammer -with a claw--anything which will grip this nail and help to draw it -out." - -The guide, glad enough to hide his discomfiture, hurried away. But in a -moment he returned with empty hands. - -"Senor, we have no pincers, pliers, hammer--nothing of the kind!" - -The American blurted out an oath. - -"Think you can stump us, eh?" he said collectedly in English. And he -borrowed the revolver of Jacques Ferou, broke it, and emptied its six -chambers. - -"My automatic hasn't the leverage of your gun," he remarked to the -Frenchman in explanation. - -With the steel finger guard of the revolver he sought, as he spoke, to -get a grip on the head of the nail. But the nail had been driven in so -far that its head just barely protruded from the surface of the hoof. -There was no room beneath the nail-head for the slim steel of the finger -guard. - -Manuel Morales shouldered him away. Taking the hoof again between his -knees, he dug at the head of the nail with his bare fingers. It seemed a -preposterous thing to do, but he worked with a gnawing persistency. The -mule shivered in every member, and made hoarse, almost human sounds of -pain. Suddenly it screamed. Morales, his round face dark with blood and -shiny with sweat, his body hunched all in a knot, slowly drew out the -nail between the vise of two strong bullfighter's fingers! - -"Now we will go on," said Carson. - -"And no more of your Gypsy tricks, you lagarto!" Morales warned the -guide. - -Aguilino ignored the threat. - -"The hole is spurting black blood," he said. "Let me make a poultice to -stop the bleeding." - -He gathered a handful of the stick leaves of a gum cistus which grew in -the crevices of the cliff wall, chewed them in his mouth, then spit the -cud into his palm and pressed it over the ragged hole left by the nail -in the mule's hoof. - -Yet, for all the appearance of doing good, he seemed to handle the -painful leg with unwarranted brutality. The mule, snorting in agony and -anger, recoiled sharply from him toward the brink of the path. Before -the others could realize that anything untoward was in motion, before -ever they could leap forward to save the beast, he pressed his head and -shoulders against the burdened animal and it tottered on the crumbling -edge of the cliff, then went over, turning round and round like an empty -wine cask, banging its panniers against the rock faces, kicking the air -with frail legs, and screaming all the while frightfully. - -Manuel Morales caught the guide as he almost followed into the void. -With his two strong arms, the matador lifted him bodily into the air and -held him over the miles of emptiness. - -"You snake in the grass!" he swore. "We will see now with how much grace -you take the leap yourself!" - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - - -The guide did not squirm. He could not squirm. He was stiff with terror -of the misty abysmal depths below. Yet, somehow, he managed to stutter: - -"Heart of God, senor, don't! You will lose yourselves--in these savage -mountains--without me to guide you! You will all starve to death! -Maestro, for the love of Mary the Pitiful, don't, don't!" - -There was something of truth in what the guide said. Morales put him -back upon the path. But he said with bitterness and brooding menace, "We -will lose no more mules. You will see to that, eh, my trustworthy man?" - -Aguilino worked more cleverly after that. - -In the dusk of the following night, Turiddu, the mule led by Morales -himself, went over a cliff, almost dragging the matador along. There was -no use blaming the guide, Aguilino. He had not been near the doomed ass -during the long morning and the longer afternoon. - -Besides, twenty times that day the beast had come within an ace of its -eventual finis. Since dawn, it had conducted itself in a contrary and -restive manner; it had shied without seeming cause, reared and plunged -forward in sudden frights, caracoled and beat the path with its hoofs, -and whinnied, snorted, and shaken its head as though unaccountably -irritated. It seemed a mule spirited and unrestrainably stimulated by -an overfeeding of oats; a mule intoxicated, possessed of a demon! - -What had befallen Turiddu in the shadowy darkness of the prior night, -Dios sabe! Yet the Gypsies have a jockey trick which might explain the -whole mystery. When selling or bartering mules and borricos, they drop a -tiny nodule of quicksilver into the long ears of the beasts. - -Have you ever suffered a drop of water in the ear and been unable to -move a hand to flick it out? The nodule of quicksilver is as irritating -as that. It is wet and never still. It frets the mules and causes them -to liven up their paces and seem more mettlesome. - -Morales and his cabalgadores watched the guide with deep but -indefensible suspicion. Vexedly they wondered and worried. Finally, in -the next few days, they were provoked into savage anger when three more -mules took it upon themselves to act unconventionally, and then die in -fits, one, two, three. - -These mules were thoughtful and discreet to a degree. They did not leap, -screaming, off the walls of the mountains. They expired in their tracks -and therefore saved to the nine Quixotes the panniers strapped over -their spines. - -Morales and his men became, all at once, coldly furious. The third mule -in dying, coughed up a round, compactly pressed ball of pointed -black-green leaves. Some one in the company had forced handfuls of -oleander leaves down the throats of the three mules! - -Now, the leaves of the oleander are extremely poisonous to man and -beast. Horses and kindred cattle have an instinct which warns them -against eating the shrub. But man who has no strong instincts, often -dies poisoned by the oleander's juices. It is related that several -British soldiers during the Peninsular War cut and peeled some oleander -branches to use as skewers for roasting meat over the campfires. Of the -twelve men who ate that meat, seven died. - -Even a creature as asinine as an ass knows enough to avoid the pointed -black-green leaves. Most mules would rather starve than even smell of -the plant. Yet, during the nights that preceded their untimely -taking-off, some one in the company had forced handfuls of the poisonous -leaves down the throats of the three mules. - -For hours before the death, each mule had coughed. Also, each mule had -simpered, simpered like a convent girl. Simpered is a strange word to -use in such a case, but it describes exactly the way the mules had moved -and worked their lips in a try to rid their stomachs of the deadly -leaves. - -Of the whole caravan of seven mules that had trotted so bravely out, -there was left now but one sorely burdened ass. The nine cabalgadores -weighted the surviving beast with some of the provisions from the backs -of the three poisoned mules; they encumbered their own shoulders with -the rest; then they continued doggedly on, thinking to kill the last -mule for meat, once the provisions upon their backs and in the panniers -were completely exhausted. - -That night they bivouacked in a stony and savage ravine, and built two -small fires, and hugged them close. It was very cold. An icy mountain -fog or _neblina_ had crept down like a clammy gray ghost from the windy -passes and frozen snowfields far above. One could not see much farther -before one through the thick mist than the nose upon one's face. - -They wrapped their ponchos about them and shivered in the damp. A cavern -of snarling wind-echoes and of eddying, dark shapes was the steep -ravine. Down the length of it, the fog marched like an endless caravan -of ghostly, silent, gray mules. The two fires, robust enough and -certainly well attended, seemed as pale and anæmic and cold as two -incandescents in the black heart of a mine. - -Without the fling of the twin fires, a man in sheepskin zamarra, -alpagartas and voluminous mountaineer's shawl sat cross-legged on a -large boulder and watched the men bulk before the flames, and move back -and forth, and lie down, keeping close together for warmth. He did not -seem to feel the icy chill of the fog; he did not seem to fear -discovery. And yet, should the fires leap up and burn voraciously -because of some knot braided with pitch, he would be disclosed most -surely to the men about the flames. - -For days, however, he had been with them and never once had chance -betrayed him to the men he watched. He had clung to a risco above them -when they had climbed like slow obstinate flies out of the profundities -of the Llanos de Jaen and plunged into the gargantas and barrancas of -the desolate Sierra Nevada. He had hung upon their flank as a wolf hangs -upon the flank of a gang of deer; as a podenco, or hunting dog, hangs -upon the flank of a sounder of wild boar. While they ate, he had -lingered near and, with a rare and pensive curiosity, had watched them -slowly but surely exhaust the linings of their mules' panniers. - -Suddenly, from the boulder on which he sat as quietly as another rock, -he lifted up his voice in a long, thin, bestial ululation. Such a somber -and unearthly sound is made only by the Spanish she-wolf when, standing -above the den of its brood, it gives tongue to a thousand old memories -and desires. - -One of the recumbent figures about the fires lifted himself upon an -elbow and, his face sharp, hearkened intently. Again, from the boulder, -uprose the steely cry, mournful as a wail sent spearing aloft from -Purgatory. From his elbow, Aguilino the guide lifted himself to his -feet. - -"When you hear the she-wolf give tongue," he answered to the inquiring -looks of the others, "you may be sure that its den and runways are near. -The young fat cubs make fairly good meat. I will go out into the -darkness, hearkening to the cries of the bitch, and if I am lucky, I may -locate the brood for you. God willing, we will have an oteo, a -wolf-drive, at dawn to-morrow!" - -He walked out of the radius of the firelight and went stumbling through -the shadowy gloom. As he brushed through the white buckthorn, arbutus, -and holly which sprouted in the more generous soil between the boulders, -those about the fires could hear a swishing and snapping, and a -regular-spaced crackling from the rich mould under his walking feet. -Then all crackling and rustling ceased, and the night was darkly still. - -Aguilino halted at the foot of the boulder. The man in the mountaineer's -shawl dropped down beside him. - -"Rafael Perez," he said, "to-morrow you must murder the last mule!" - -"But, Don Jacinto, I dare not! Three times already have they threatened -my life, and they regard me forever with the most savage of looks. The -others I do not fear so much, but that magnificent one--I tell you I -fear Morales so that I shudder at each of his glances. The man looks -murder. Believe me, Don Jacinto, he would shoot me like a dog should I -make but one more move!" - -"Then I must finish that last mule myself. To-morrow, above the Pass of -the Blessed Trinity, where the three roads converge into one, I will -send down a boulder to crush out its life." - -"Ah, that is better, senor don! They cannot blame me if a little rock -falls from the heights, while I walk with them through the gap. But how -much longer must I endure their scowling looks, maestro? My life is not -worth a peseta while I linger with that company." - -"They continue to eat, do they not?" said Quesada significantly. - -"Si, but it's no fault of mine. Don Jacinto, how could I dare send more -than three mules toppling off the mountain walls? You yourself, maestro, -told me to resort to the oleander leaves. Remember, it was in that -little talk behind the granite crag? But the oleander leaves did not get -rid of the panniers of the three poisoned beasts. These Quixotes fill -themselves from those panniers without stint, especially the Frenchman. -They will continue to eat for a few days--" - -"Hola, the Frenchman has an appetite, eh?" - -"Seguramente, si! But when shall I quit the distasteful presence of that -terrible Morales?" - -"To-morrow at dusk, if you will have it." - -"A thousand thanks! But what excuses shall I give, Don Jacinto?" - -"Say to them that it is not the will of God that you go farther!" - -"Carajo, they will shoot me for it!" - -"Que, que! What of that? They will only cheat the Guardia Civil of -another black rogue!" - -Little comforted by the words of consolation, grumbling and shaking his -head morosely, Rafael Perez, alias Aguilino, returned to the bivouac of -the nine fantastic ones. The other, who wore the garb of a serrano, -hurried away through the foggy darkness, his head bent and brow -thoughtful. - -The following day, as slowly they climbed one of the three roads which -led into the mournful Pass of the Blessed Trinity, a huge boulder came -bounding down from the granite heights, viciously leaped by John Fremont -Carson's head and, having been deflected by a rock above, missed the -last mule by a good dozen yards. The guide Aguilino swore in his chest, -and no one heard him. - -As the sun rose to its meridian, the vertical rays, reflected from the -stony bare-fanged walls, gave off an intense heat, and the party halted -in a hollow that lay brown and lean between two mountains. The men -squatted down to partake of a light noontide repast, and it was then -that Rafael Perez approached Morales. - -"Caballero of my soul," he said fearfully, "I can go no farther with -you!" - -"Disparate!" exclaimed Morales, jumping to his feet. "What nonsense is -this! Hola, Ferou and you, Carson; the treacherous knave desires to -abandon us!" - -The Frenchman and American crowded up. - -"But he cannot!" objected Ferou. "We will not let him!" - -"What reason have you for refusing to go farther?" asked Carson, turning -upon the guide. - -"Senores," replied Aguilino with feigned humility, but no little -trepidation; "it is not the will of God!" - -"It is not the will of Jacinto Quesada, you mean!" bit out the American -with quick penetration. - -Aguilino shrugged his shoulders expressively. - -"Senores," he whined, "there are no churches in these mountains, and men -of the good Dios come but seldom here. In these mountains, the will of -Jacinto Quesada moves stronger than does the will of God!" - -"Ah!" exclaimed Morales, with sudden understanding. "So that's it, eh?" -And his youthful face cold and grim, he lifted his automatic pistol and -shoved it beneath the nose of the guide. - -"Smell of its maw, my good hombre!" he commanded metallically. "Now tell -me whose will you will obey!" - -Aguilino grimaced like a frightened monkey. - -"Heart of God, Senor Don Manuel, I will stay, I will stay!" - -They went on through the hollow in the northern hills. And Aguilino -shook his head. - -"It is that terrible Morales," he mumbled to himself. "Don Jacinto does -not know him. Twice has Don Jacinto failed me this day." - -They went up a dark green corry that looked like the hiding place of -savage wolves. It was a narrow bridle path, a mere tunnel hewn out of -solid rock and overarching foliage. The afternoon drew into twilight; a -dim fresco held beneath the plait-work of lentisk, oleanders, and -clinging briar; and then, all at once, the corry topped its rise and -began descending, plunging down abrupt rock faces and zigzagging about -the mountainside like the spiral of a corkscrew. It made the spine -tingle to think that one false step in the darkness might precipitate -one into the unseen murmuring stream far below. - -They camped, that night, in a dell at the foot of the corry, not far -from the constantly crashing stream. When they sprawled out to sleep, -Morales and John Fremont Carson drew close on either side of Aguilino -and carelessly dropped a leg across his legs, one from the right, the -other from the left. - -But they slept too well, those self-appointed bodyguards. What with the -fatigue poisons that had been gathering in their joints and muscles -during the long toilsome day and the many days which had preceded it, -they could not hope to bat one eye in sleep and keep the other warily -winking at the mat between. Quickly they became like logs of wood, -incapable of feeling and enterprise. And in some black cavernous hour of -the night, Aguilino crawled out and away. - -They awoke in the chill dawn, and looked about them with red-rimmed -eyes, and spoke together in husky whispers. Without a guide, they were -like the fabled babes in the wood. They were lost completely in those -gray, echoing, savage mountains. - -They breakfasted glumly and, with lightened packs upon their shoulders, -went on. Now before them stalked no Gypsy guide; before them stalked an -emaciated and bony specter that looked back to grimace every little -while, and to beckon them on--the specter of Starvation! - - - - -CHAPTER XX - - -High on a shoulder of the Picacho de la Veleta, one late afternoon, -stood Jacinto Quesada. It was very cold, and his mountaineer's shawl was -drawn tightly around his throat and knotted about his middle. About and -above him frowned the crags and snow spires and sinister precipices of -the sierras; below, splitting the mountain like a great clean knife-cut, -was a deep, winding pass. - -Quesada was morosely engaged in watching the peculiar antics of a number -of men in a cove or pocket to one side of that pass. - -Inset in the pocket, under a thatched pointed roof, was a rudely carved -figure of the Saviour hanging from a cross. The sacred effigy was -fashioned of some white pine, with a crown of black horsehair and dabs -of red paint, in hands and crossed feet and side, to depict bleeding -wounds. It was a homely and stark symbol, a shrine famous in the -mountains as the Christ of the Pass. - -But the men, despite that poignant reminder before them, were not -kneeling in prayer to Heaven. They were squatting among the huge -boulders in the ragged prickly gorse, their heads lolling on their -chests, and their words, when they talked, coming in disjointed, -never-finished sentences as if they were wearied and needed sleep. - -They were the nine fantastic cabalgadores. They were starving. For three -days not a morsel of food had passed their lips. Theirs had been a -complete fast from organic solids. That noon, at a mountain burnlet, for -the last time they had drunk copiously of water. It had served to keep -up their ebbing strength. - -Now, however, they were suffering all the distress and tortures of -hunger and thirst. Their stomachs yearned, but the gastric juices were -dry; their heads ached and at times felt heavy as shot, and at other -times, light and dizzy. They had been compelled to sit down. They were -still too low in the sierras to come across the tracks of snow-capering -wild ibex and thus appease their famished stomachs. They were suffering -an agony, hopeless and cruel. - -Starvation excites the imagination and causes giddying eyes to see -illusions. It was thus with John Fremont Carson, the American. Come of -light-headedness and fretted nerves, he had thought, all through that -third day, that as they walked along they were companioned by a strange -man who walked with them, now on one hand, now in the brush on the -other. - -Pausing for minutes to think, losing the line of thought, beginning and -never finishing his statements, yet somehow he communicated his fancy to -Morales. The matador nodded; he also had seen the shawl-wrapped gliding -figure. But the Frenchman pleaded ignorance of any such illusion. - -Of a sudden now, as they squatted about the shrine, aware only of the -ceaseless gnawings of their stomachs, from up the road came the crash as -of a falling bounding stone. It was as if some one, moving along the -cliff above their heads, had dislodged the stone from underfoot. - -"It is he," said Carson, and he thought he added: "The unknown man." But -the words died unsaid on his parched lips. - -Morales nodded and continued to nod, his head wagging loosely like that -of a mechanical toy. After an appreciable interval, he said, "He is -prowling about us like a hungry wolf." - -The tall, blond, mustached Frenchman seemed the strongest of all those -once-strong men. He pulled out his large-calibered revolver. With none -of the hesitancy of feebleness, he said: - -"I shall go forward. I am the only one that can walk and see straight. -If this unknown man is truly skulking about, I shall find out what he is -doing up there ahead." - -He left the pitiful cluster of men. Without any signs of dizziness or -staggering, he walked between the boulders which bestrew the path. Bent -sharply forward, revolver in hand, he disappeared around a turn of the -road. - -Abruptly, from beside the road and very near at hand, came then, loud -and distinct, the sharp snapping of shrub twigs. The men squatting -before the shrine looked about dully. Out of the gorse and bramble -beside the road stepped the man whom they had seen following them all -that day. He wore heavy rope sandals, sheepskin zamarra, a long serape -and pointed mountaineer's hat. He was Jacinto Quesada. - -Weakly the famished men reached for their weapons; but he smiled with -friendliness and commiseration, and sat down among them. - -"There is no need of force, senores," he said. "I am here of my own free -will." - -The starving men looked at him as they would at a ghost, hardly able to -credit their eyes. As he spoke, Morales reached over and touched him on -the arm. - -"My soul!" he exclaimed, the excitement of the discovery stimulating his -undermined energies. "He is real--Jacinto Quesada himself!" - -"You are starving, senores," said the bandolero, "or else you would -never doubt that it is I. But I prolong your agony. Eat; I have brought -you food!" - -From beneath the voluminous folds of his shawl, he produced a bota or -skin of wine and an osier basket containing cold sausages of meat, a -chunk of goat's cheese, and some cornbread. - -The famished men clawed the stuff from his hands. They were too hungry -to pause for politeness or to think of thanks. They did not even stop to -realize how incongruous it was that he whom they had been relentlessly -pursuing should come to them now of his own accord and bring them that -which they so direly needed. They thought only of appeasing the gnawings -of their stomachs which had sharpened and become suddenly overpowering -at the sight and smell of food. - -They crammed fistfuls of food into their mouths and gulped the whole -fistfuls almost without chewing. They ate without wait for words or -breath, ravenously, like lean voracious wolves. But after a little, the -American halted, a stout piece of bread to his lips. He looked at -Morales with eyes that were livening with quickly returning energy. - -"Jacques Ferou!" he breathed. - -"Si," exclaimed Morales, also pausing between a mouthful. "The -Frenchman!" - -"The Frenchman?" repeated Quesada, and he laughed bitterly. "Ah, he is -well able to take care of himself; he is a very lizard for living on! He -has not been starving like you. From the back of that last mule, ere I -shot it from across the canon and caused it to drop off the cliff, he -filched a loaf of bread. His distress has been even more severe than -yours because he tempted his stomach without wholly satisfying it; but -by nibbling secretly for the last few days at this bread, he has been -enabled to keep fairly strong." - -The men, their tissues, muscles, and nerves, undergoing rapid repair -because of the nutriment they had taken into their systems, looked -astounded and a little incensed. - -"But why did he not share with us?" asked one, Baptista Monterey, a -short thick-set banderillero in the ordinary tight-fitting black clothes -of the profession. - -"The man is a French crook, a member of the clever criminal society of -White Wolves," explained Quesada with marked patience. "From what -Felicidad has told me about him, I have come to understand the workings -of his evil mind. I know what he is about. You appreciate, senores, that -Don Manuel and this Americano, Senor Carson, both withdrew large sums -from the Bank of Spain, and that the residue of these sums is still -upon their persons. Jacques Ferou has made up his mind to get this -money. The man is avid for money. He means that you all should die, and -that he shall survive you!" - -"But he must be starving now," objected Morales. "The bread could not -last forever." - -"It lasted until yesterday evening," rejoined Quesada. "And this morning -he accidentally cut his hand on a projecting rock. I was watching from -the brush to one side. He sucked the blood from the cut, and that -further strengthened him. It is odd, mis caballeros, but a man can live -for many days by taking his own blood into his system. It is better even -than water." - -"But now," persisted Morales. - -"Would you care to see what Ferou is doing now?" - -They nodded with an awakening show of eagerness. - -"We will bring him food anyway," said Carson. - -Packing the now flabby bota of wine and the few sausages and bits of -bread and cheese which remained, they went on up the road between the -boulders at the heels of the stalking bandolero. Twilight was -thickening. They rounded the bend and there, where the road slanted down -into a ferny depression, they made out before them, seated a-straddle a -fallen tree, the Frenchman, Jacques Ferou. - -They watched in a kind of bewilderment. The Frenchman's gray-coated back -was toward them, and he was bending down over the trunk. He appeared to -be working with his hands at the trunk and carrying those hands, every -so often, to his mouth. But it was all very vague in the thick twilight. - -"Chispas!" exclaimed Morales in perplexity. "What is he doing there?" - -"Eating the wood-grubs in that rotten tree!" - -The men ejaculated in wrathful resentment. Said Carson: "So that's why -he left the camp alone!" - -"Si; the French pig!" from Morales. "And he would not tell us of even -this distasteful means of satisfying our hunger and preserving our -lives!" - -"Despacio!" warned Quesada in a low tone. "Softly, gently, senores. Let -us not disturb him, but go back alone. I have a deal more to tell you -about this man. I should prefer that he would not be near to hear." - -They rounded the bend and made down the road toward the shrine. As they -went, Morales and Carson looked at one another. Then, without haste and -very grimly, each reached into the osier basket on the American's arm -and passed out among the men the remainder of the food. - -The moon rose over the hills as they approached the shrine, and a random -shaft, plunging down the pass, lighted the white figure and bleeding -wounds of the crucified Christ with stark and ghastly effect. The men -squatted among the boulders in the ragged prickly gorse. - -"Senores," began Jacinto Quesada, "ever since you entered these -mountains, I have been close to you. Every move you have made, I have -watched; every unfortunate circumstance which befell you, I have -caused. I rolled the boulder down the cliff which was meant for your -last mule. I shot that last mule, three days ago, from the other side of -the box canon. The day before that, I commanded the guide to leave you. -You did not recognize Aguilino; you thought him a Gypsy; but he is my -dorado, Rafael Perez, who helped rob you on the Seville-to-Madrid!" - -The men murmured their surprise at the revelation. - -"But why," ejaculated Morales, "why, Senor Quesada, did you do all -this?" - -"In order that I might show you Jacques Ferou in his true light. Once -you were starving, I knew the innate selfishness of the man would out. -Then, if I could make you believe me in the matter of the Frenchman, I -knew you must believe me in my whole story. Listen, senores, and I shall -tell you the reason why I snatched and fled away with the girl." - -Quickly then, Quesada sketched to them the story told him by Felicidad. -He ended: - -"You see, senores, I did not actually kidnap this old friend of my -childhood. It was her wish. I merely took her away to save her from a -worse evil, this filthy one, Ferou!" - -Strong now with the meal he had eaten and strangely elated over the -story he just had heard, the matador sprang enthusiastically to his -feet. - -"Senor Don Jacinto!" he exclaimed. "You are a bandolero of the splendid -good old sort--the José Maria, the Visco el Borje sort! I knew it, -caballero of my heart! You are a true Moor, chivalrous and brave!" - -Carson, with the canniness so characteristic of the American, was not to -be so easily convinced. True, for the salt that he had eaten, he was -under obligation to Jacinto Quesada. He appreciated that obligation and -was thankful to the bandolero for what he had done for him and the -others. But what he appreciated, probably in fuller mete than did any of -the others, was that Quesada was a man, clearheaded, far-sighted, -judicious, and acutely adroit. - -Quesada had convicted himself, by his own word, of robbing them of their -mules and guide in order to bring them into a state of starvation. Once -they were enfeebled by hunger and thirst, he had come to them with food. -Naturally they were grateful. And it was while their hearts were warm -with gratitude toward him that he had related the past incidents in a -new phase, incriminating one of their number, the Frenchman, and very -plausibly explaining his reasons for running off with the girl. He had -sowed suspicion and dissension among them, what time he had placed -himself, in the matter of Felicidad, in a good if not heroic light. It -all seemed an ingenious, well-calculated, and bold plan. - -"But," objected Carson, "but may we not see the girl? Not that I doubt -you, Senor Quesada," he added with almost Spanish politeness; "but we -have come all this way to help Senorita Torreblanca y Moncada and it -would greatly please us, now, to see her and to know that she is safe." - -"My native village of Minas de la Sierra," said Jacinto Quesada, "is -only a night's journey farther up the Picacho de la Veleta. There -Felicidad is staying in the cabana of my mother, and to there I shall -be glad to guide you. Yet I warn you, senores!" He paused ominously. - -"What is it?" asked Carson sharply. - -"Something wrong with Felicidad?" from Morales. - -"Yesterday," said Quesada, "my mother died. She had long grieved for my -father, but we fear it was not grief alone which killed her. We fear, -senores," and his voice lowered--"we fear cholera!" - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - - -The cabalgadores started in horror and a kind of personal fear. -Explained Quesada with grave composure: - -"In this autumnal season of sudden weather changes, it is forever -scaling these hills, the cholera, and skulking into the pueblos in the -night. When the rain sweeps down, muddying our water and making howling -torrents of the dog trails, we cannot descend the sierras for the fruits -of the plains; we must subsist on our few scanty vegetables; and the -impure water and the poor, changeless diet bring on the plague. When the -sun breaks through the squalls and fogs, the abrupt alteration of damp -and dry stony heat aggravate the conditions. Therefore, whenever one of -us dies in this season and there is no doctor to tell us exactly why -that one died, we instantly think of the cholera. - -"It was thus in my mother's case. The only doctor near here who will -journey up these perilous goat paths and moaning gorges to help the poor -serranos, is the hidalgo doctor, Don Jaime de Torreblanca y Moncada, a -grandee of Spain and Felicidad's own father. We sent one of the -villagers for him, but he was away looking for Felicidad and for his -stolen money. And my mother died. It may be nothing, senores; it may be -the dread cholera; but at least, mis caballeros, I have warned you." - -Questioningly, almost with haughty challenge, he looked at Morales. The -matador hesitated. He glanced at his cuadrilla. Whether because of the -privations they had suffered, or because of the pale light from the -chance moonbeams, or because of an inconcealable revulsion and dread, -the faces of the bullfighters looked blanched and sharply haggard. The -matador turned for moral aid to the American. - -Carson was engrossed in a perplexity of thought. Was this but an -obstacle suddenly contrived and cunningly put in their way to cause them -to take the bandolero's word on its face value, without seeking further -to ascertain the facts about the girl? Quesada had left himself room to -crawl out. It might be nothing, he had said, or it might be a noxious -pestilence. It could always prove to be nothing. - -"We will risk the chance," decided the American with determination. "We -will go with you to your barrio." - -There was a noisy rustling and crackling of the gorse as the men -scrambled afoot. Well, suddenly above the noise, from the -foliage-embowered darkness up the road, exploded a voice of command: - -"Throw up your hands, you Jacinto Quesada!" - -It was the voice of the Frenchman. He stepped into the moonlight. Tall -and blond, his ashy skin drawn tight with virulent resolution over his -hawklike face, his slate-colored eyes showing bright as an animal's, he -pointed his large-calibered revolver at the bandolero. - -Quesada obeyed with quick dispatch. Yet he found occasion to whisper to -the others, "I have told you the truth, senores. I am altogether in your -hands." - -Whether they should intervene just then or allow things to take a -certain limited course, the American and the matador were uncertain. How -much had the Frenchman heard? Did he know that he himself was accused of -crime, of thievery and abduction, and of worse than crime--failure to -share with them while they were enduring the intolerable pangs of -starvation? Was this but a bold move to retrieve favor in their eyes? -Carson and Morales decided, all at once to wait. - -Never removing the menace of the revolver, slowly Jacques Ferou drew -near. - -"Carson," he instructed with biting command, "you search him. He has my -roll of five-thousand peseta bills!" - -Plainly then Carson realized that the Frenchman could not have overheard -Quesada's history of that money. This was but a presumptuous and -shameless attempt to recover the doctor's bills! - -"He hasn't your money, Ferou!" objected Carson with promptitude and -energy. "He just has told us that he turned those bills over to -Felicidad, whose dowry they were." - -It was, of course, a lie. Quesada had explained quite definitely, in the -course of his story, that he was holding the purse against an occurrence -he dreaded. He knew, with a fearful certitude, that Doctor Torreblanca y -Moncada must soon hear where his disgraced daughter had found refuge; -and then would he come, stony of eye and agate of heart, to wreak -vengeance upon her. Quesada intended to produce the bills, at that -trying moment, in the hope that their appearance would have the effect -of mitigating the awful anger of the haughty Don Jaime. - -But the Frenchman, not having overheard any of Quesada's recital, -swallowed the bait in blissful ignorance. - -"Is that so?" he queried with a lift of his blond eyebrows. He leaped -into a sudden and importunate impatience. "Let us go, let us go to my -fiancée!" he urged. "Oh, I must see Felicidad!" - -Said Morales very coldly, "Jacinto Quesada is just about to lead us to -his native pueblo where the girl is domiciled." - -"But I trust him not! How do we know that he will lead us aright; how do -we know that it is not all a lie? Blue devils! he may have the very -money on him now and be but leading us into a snare! Here you, Quesada! -Keep up your arms! I will search you myself alone!" - -But Carson stepped between. - -"Senor Quesada has offered to guide us to his village," he said, "and -Don Manuel, his cuadrilla and I have signified our willingness -implicitly to trust him. You must abide by the decision of the majority. -Ferou, put down your gun!" - -The Frenchman shrugged his shoulders. It was wise to obey; there were -two and more against him. He stuck the weapon in his coat pocket. - -But Quesada shook his head. - -"I will trust him not, this Frenchman, senores. My offer was to you. If -the Frenchman is to go along, he must go along unarmed." - -"_Mais non, mais non!_" expostulated the Frenchman, lapsing in his -agitation into his native language. - -"_Pues y que?_" asked Morales sharply. "Why not?" And he snatched the -revolver, with the words from Ferou's pocket. - -The Frenchman seemed of a temperament to blow hot and cold by turns. He -recovered almost immediately from his first fears. He shrugged his -athletic shoulders. A man like a gutta-percha ball he was, resilient, -full of elasticity, rebounding when struck. Behind Morales' back, slyly -and covertly he smiled his calculating and very superior smile. - -Now, following the striding long-legged figure of the bandolero, the -nine cabalgadores pursued on and upward through the moon-shimmering -night. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII - - -On the great rock at the brink of the village of Minas de la Sierra -where, years before when he was yet a very little Spaniard, Jacinto -Quesada had stood with his weeping mother and watched his father hurry -down the mountainside on an enterprise of forlorn and fatal desperation, -a boy in cotton knee breeches and bare brown legs, despite the mountain -cold, stood waiting like some statue carved in basalt. - -Behind him, into the dull gray wash of sky, the Picacho de la Veleta -lifted its craggy head; off to the northeast bulked snowy old Muley -Hassan, Cerro de Mulhacen, the highest peak of the peninsula; and all -about, just brightening with the chill light of dawn, were the bleak -spires of lesser mountains, shadowy defiles, dark and moaning gorges. -Nothing moved in the leaden, glacial, desolate reaches save an immense -lammergeyer that hovered on slow wings over its high eyrie like some -black dragon of morbid fancy. - -Presently, out of the gloom of a lower gorge, the shapes of men emerged -into view and began mounting the fiber-line of goat path which curved -and twisted and wound up to the barrio like a convoluted snake. It was -Jacinto Quesada, leading the nine cabalgadores, weary from the long -climb through the night. - -The boy began crying out at the sight. It is an odd fact that sounds -high on mountains lose in volume, but gain in distinctness and carrying -power. The cries of the boy that were more like the bleating of a -helpless ewe beset by wild dogs, dropped down to the men in the gorge. - -"Oh, Jacinto, caballero of my soul!" he shrilled. "The mother of me, who -waited in her last illness upon your own good mother--God rest her -soul!--my own pobre mamacita is sick! Last night, her stomach turned -upside down on her, and to-day her skin is blue and cold! Save her, Don -Jacinto of my heart; save her to me, and the Holy Mother of God will -kiss your brow with fortune!" - -"Hush, Gabriellito!" said Quesada tenderly, when he came up in the van. -He gathered the boy to him, under one arm, and turned to the others. His -young smooth brown face was priestly with pain and somberness and a -great pity. In a grave voice, he said: - -"There can be no mistake, senores; it is indeed the dread cholera! Like -the great black wings of that lammergeyer of the air, it has closed down -about my poor pueblo." - -A little clatter of sound came from a yellow run of water as it -trickled, after the old Moorish fashion, down the village street through -an open stone gutter. In Minas de la Sierra, clinging like a -cragmartin's nest to a ledge of the Picacho de la Veleta, there was -naught else of sound or movement. - -No old men mumbled endless talk in the cold sun beneath the cork-oak in -the center; no shawled manzanilleros strode by with panniers of the -white-flowered manzanilla upon their backs. From the scanty forests -above came no sound of woodchoppers, no steely ring of axe on pine. -Tightly closed were the wooden hatches which shuttered the windows of -the mud-and-thatch cabanas. Within, no light from the great open -fireplaces cleaved the darkness. There was no laugh or squeal of -children. - -Gabriel, the village lad, unable to restrain his nervousness and deep -fear, hurriedly led them to the mud choza where his mother lay dying. It -was very dark within. Strings of pimentos hung drying from the low -rafters. There was a bed on either side of the cold fireplace. On one of -the beds the woman was prostrated under a heap of rags. - -All sap seemed to be drained from her body. She was withered and -dark-hued as a burnt match. Carson stooped and felt her wrist. The -pulse-beat was an almost imperceptible flutter. Quesada spoke gently to -her and, with brave effort, she answered in a whisper that was as the -gasping of a wind through one of the boulder-strewn passes above. That -was the _vox cholerica_. She was in the second and usually fatal stage -of malignant cholera. - -They left the boy lamenting softly at the bedside of his mother. - -"She is a widow," said Quesada, "and all he has left in the world." - -Their fears a hideous certitude now, grimly they went through the dying -village. In a nearby hut, they found an old white-haired man altogether -dead. His muscles were oddly contracted; one arm was turned round, the -palm of the hand out and hanging over the edge of the cornshuck tick. -As very often happens after death through cholera, his body was not only -still warm, but rising in temperature, burning up. - -It seemed poignantly lonely in there with the solitary dead. They -stumbled out of the sour darkness. - -"That was Antonio Villarobledo," said Quesada; "a man who has long lived -alone. He was almost a father to me when I was a boy." - -Everywhere they went in the barrio, everywhere in the cold clay cabanas, -Death had stalked before them on bony rickety legs, a chill damp on his -forehead, his emaciated fingers picking at the coverlets of the sick, -shutting their eyes to desire and despair. A great illness was on the -serranos--a foul plague that caused them to double up with stomach -cramps and vomit a gray pasty whey; that turned their skins to blue and -purple and swatted them off, like flies, within twelve and twenty-four -hours. - -It was the scourge the nut-brown Gypsy Paquita had foreseen on the -little white beach in the barranca. But surely she could have had no -hand in bringing it about! Quesada had explained that the plague lifted -its fanged and evil head wherever the water was impure, and there were -errors in diet, and the atmosphere changed abruptly from damp to sudden -heat and back again. - -Yet the wonder remains how the Gitana even could have predicted it. To -be sure, cholera was forever sweeping the high hills. Was her magic on -the white beach, then, only a natural supposition, a bit of logical -deduction and reasonable ratiocination? Or did it partake of something -more, something uncanny, impious and pagan--some real and diabolical -warlockry? Dios hombre only knows! - -But John Fremont Carson, the American, thought that he understood the -reasons for the plague. - -"What these folk need is education," he remarked thoughtfully to -Morales. "Education can do everything!" - -It was identically what he had said amid the squalor and squall in the -Gypsy camp. - -"Education, si!" returned Morales, even as he had on that occasion. "But -what they need more is some one with a lion heart, a great golden -arrogant heart, to lead them in the fight, to lead them up!" - -Jacques Ferou said nothing; but again, despite the pitiful agonies and -shocking horrors about them, he had the flinty hardihood to smile his -calculating and very superior smile. - -They came at last, in the course of their rounds, to the cabana where -Quesada's mother had died and where the girl, Felicidad, now was living. -They discovered her sitting up on the straw-matted bed, looking more wan -than ever, a hot sweat beading the roots of her golden hair, her white -febrile fingers gripping the side of the tick, and her whole ivory and -gold form shaking like a mountain aspen with retching seizures. - -Quesada cried out hoarsely in shocked and fearful astonishment. He -sprung toward her. But a cramp seemed to bind her right arm; she let go -her clutching hold on the side of the tick, and fell back. Tenderly the -bandolero tucked a pillow under her rich-crowned head and pulled over -her a wolfskin from the nearby couch. - -They came out into the brisk clean air of the morning. Like a blow, -dismay had struck dull the light in each man's eyes. Said Quesada -simply: - -"This is the first stage of autumnal cholera. God grant that she may -recover!" - -"What measures do you take to relieve the sufferers, to counteract the -disease, to wipe out the plague?" the American wanted to know. - -"There is little that we can do, Senor Carson. Up here in these hills -only the simplest remedies are available to our use. When a man is -burning up inside and calls for water, we give him water--" - -"From that cesspool there?" And Carson indicated the open yellow rivulet -coursing down the center of the uneven street. - -"It is all we have. Our fathers built that stone channel, ages ago, in -the days of the Moor. What would you, Senor Americano? The nearest -stream, other than this, is far down the goat path in the lower gorge." - -"Go on," said Carson with unintentional brusqueness. "When a man -disgorges--" - -"We tell him to put his finger down his throat and to keep straining so -long as a particle of undigested food shows. When his stomach is sick -and worn from bowel evacuations, and wretched with intestinal pains, we -put a plaster of hot mustard over his abdomen as a counter-irritant, or -we rub his abdomen with penetrating turpentine. There is turpentine in -the few pines that remain in the dank hollows of these hills." - -Carson nodded rather abstractedly. It was as if his mind were divided -between listening to Quesada and developing along a certain line of -reasoning. The others stood close about and heeded in perplexed wonder. - -"From the turpentine, also, we extract a form of aperient oil which, -when taken in large doses, aids purging." - -"And the ejecta?" suggested Carson. - -"Oh, we cover that over with earth, or throw into a pit, or cast down -the cliffs. When a man faints, we pour sour wine or raw mountain brandy -down his throat. And if he would eat, we milk our goats and we brew up -soups." - -"But you do not use opiates to allay pain and halt the discharges?" - -Quesada shook his head. - -"Only Doctor Torreblanca y Moncada knows how to handle that. Ah, would -to God that the haughty Don Jaime were here! He has a heart of blood for -all the iron of his manner. And he has hands of gold for calling the -dying back to life!" - -"But why is he not here?" - -"I have told you, senor. The bitter old man is away looking for -Felicidad and for his stolen money. But Don Juan," he added eagerly, -with sudden inspiration, "perhaps you are a senor doctor, too! You -Americanos know so much!" - -The American flushed with quick sharp modesty. For a breath, mentally -but deeply, he accused himself of having talked too big. He felt almost -as if he had been bluffing. Then the ardor and hunger of Quesada's hope -struck him. He shook his head sadly. - -"I wish I were," he said with regret and genuine longing. "But all I -know about cholera and such plagues, Jacinto, is what I learned in -hygiene at college. I know, for instance, that what you folk do is all -right, but not enough. You do not go in for segregation of the sick, hot -baths, or opiates. You do not positively destroy all soiled clothes and -rags. You bury the noisome excreta in the same ground through which -flows your water supply, or you cast it over a cliff as a -spawning-ground for flies. I shouldn't wonder but you bury the -infectious dead!" - -"That is according to our religion," said the bandolero simply, as if -mouthing an irrefutable answer. "The men of the good Dios have -consecrated a certain space of earth and there our dead sleep in the -bosom of the Church and the Espiritu Santo." - -Carson shrugged his broad level shoulders in a sort of helplessness, -then asked, "Where is this cemetery?" - -"Above--" - -"Where it may infect the water ere it reaches you! Oh, you have no -sanitation here! This is as bad as India!" He looked up and down the -uneven street, at the huddle of cabanas to either side, in incontainable -disrelish and vast pity. - -"Senor Carson," said Quesada impulsively, "you and Don Manuel and his -cuadrilla have done a wrong in pursuing me. Down before the shrine of -the Christ of the Pass, I showed you how sincere were my motives in -carrying off Felicidad, how great a wrong you had done me in becoming -sleuth-hounds of chase. But now that you are here, there is opportunity -to right that wrong. We need your aid imperatively! Help me, Senor -Americano!" he exhorted impassionately. "Help me and my poor serranos -with what you know! Save Felicidad and the others! Down the pestilence!" - -The American retreated a step before the fervor of his plea. - -"But I don't know, I don't know enough!" he protested deprecatingly. -"I'd understand how to clean up this barrio, of course; but in handling -the disease, I'd have to work all from memory, vague memory! I'm not a -doctor--" - -"Don Juan," interposed Morales, valorously stepping into the breach, -"Senor Quesada has well said that we did him a great wrong in thus -hounding him; here is a pressing opportunity to right that wrong. It is -an act of Christian charity to aid the poor serranos. They are dying off -like flies in a frost. They need you. Help them, Senor Carson; help -them, and my cuadrilla and I will be yours to command! Whatever measures -you find necessary to rid this pueblo of its scourge, that will we -undertake to carry out!" - -"And I," exclaimed the bandolero, with an ardor deeper than any -eagerness, "I will go down these mountains to the casa of Torreblanca y -Moncada outside Granada. Don Jaime is almost my foster father; I lived -in his house once, and I know every nook and cranny of it. From the -remnants of the hidalgo doctor's library, I shall secure, to aid your -memory, some medical book containing a full exposition of cholera. I -shall read it and then bring you--" - -"You can read?" - -Said Quesada with a restrained but natural touch of pride, "My mother -taught me letters when I was but five. My poor mother attended, when a -child, the convent of Santa Ursola in Granada." - -With no less zeal but more earnest calmness, he went on: - -"What medicines the medical book tells me you shall need, I shall get -for you from the chests and racks of the senor doctor. I shall leave -word with old Pedro or the childish Teresa that, immediately Don Jaime -returns, he is to come up here. All we ask, Senor Carson, all we expect, -is that you do what good you can until the hidalgo doctor himself -arrives. Mediante Dios, you can do much!" - -Intense longing, a hungry expectancy trembled beseechingly in the eyes -of each man. They felt suddenly inferior to Carson, dependent on his -knowledge, in sore need of his aid. He could not kill that earnest hope -and sincere, almost pitiful trust in him. With characteristic decision, -he exclaimed. - -"By gad, I'll do it!" - -And in Spanish fashion, Morales added, "With the help of the Dios -hombre!" - -The Frenchman, listening avidly to all, only smiled once more his -calculating and very superior smile. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII - - -Even as his father had hurried down the mountainside many years before, -even so Jacinto Quesada wended his descending way, that morning, on an -enterprise of forlorn desperation. He was bound for the casa of -Torreblanca y Moncada outside Granada. He did not wait to borrow one of -the village mules which the serranos used to sleigh their cords of pine -down to the lower torrents and to carry their panniers of white-flowered -manzanilla into the towns of the plains. His long mountaineer's legs -were swifter to move and even more tireless than the slow hoofs of any -stupid borrico. His descent proved far more rapid than had been the -arduous climb of the nine cabalgadores. - -He came, in the noontide, to the boulder-strewn, gorse-whelmed pocket of -the Christ of the Pass. He paused neither to rest nor to eat. In the -moon of that evening, he found himself in the forested dell at the foot -of that dark green corry which snaked over a shoulder of the sierras. -Here in the night, almost a week before, Aguilino the guide had deserted -Morales and his men. - -Quesada turned aside from his decurrent course. He broke through the -moon-filtering brush of the dell. He waded the nearby frothing and -echoing mountain stream. All the while, louder than the splash and chop -of the boisterous rivulet, he ululated shrilly in the mournful manner -of the Spanish she-wolf. - -Presently, from the underwood beyond, came an answering call. It was a -singular bird note, not much the ordinary hoot of an owl, but more a -growl and something of a gruff scream. It was the hoot of the eagle owl. - -Quesada pressed forward. He came out, a moment later, upon a tiny -clearing, saffron in the moonlight. To one side stood a log hut, its -chinks plastered with adobe. Crowded in the open doorway were three men. -They were his dorados, Ignacio Garcia, Pio Estrada, and Rafael Perez. - -To judge from this, Perez had not fled so far, after all. The other two -must have recently come up. Perez lacked altogether now the yellow scar -that had so hideously distinguished Aguilino the guide. - -Quesada showed no surprise. It was as if he had thoroughly expected to -find them there. - -"Hola, mis dorados!" he called, as he stepped into the clearing. "Bring -forward one of your nags." - -"But the booty!" objected Rafael Perez, whilom Aguilino. - -"Si; the sacks of mail and jewels and money!" - -"Do we not go forward to the cache now," asked Garcia, "and split the -loot between us?" - -"Disparate! I have no time. The plunder is cached with our cacique, -Dionisio Almazarron, in the foothills of the Sierra Morena. Go you -there, you three, and take it all. But alto! first get me one of your -cobs to ride down into Granada." - -No one of the three men moved. Said Pio Estrada in an odd voice: - -"Ah, you do not care for this little treasure, eh, maestro? Times have -been good to you in Spain. Don Jacinto has taken to enterprising abroad, -single-handed, and accomplishing marvelous and audacious feats. It is -true indeed that Don Jacinto is brave, brave as the very God himself!" - -Quesada did not understand the significance of the words, but there was -no mistaking their intent. There was that in the tone of Estrada's voice -and in the fact that the men still stood unmoving in the doorway, in -sullen disobedience to his command, which spelled sedition and revolt. -Slowly from his holster, Quesada lifted his huge long-barreled revolver. - -"My golden ones," he said quietly, "you do not hear well in the -moonlight. Would you understand better the detonation of a pistol?" He -smiled, showing his clean white teeth. - -The grim jest of his words, the set of his long jaw, the gleam of eyes -and teeth and steely revolver, had a decided effect upon the men. Like -cats frightened away by the Spanish scat, zape! they stretched their -legs around the cabin and out of sight. - -Within a trice, they were back, each leading a wiry rough-coated pony. -Quesada selected the most mettlesome and leaped into the deep saddle. - -"Rafael Perez," he instructed, turning partly round, "you shall remain -here. Let the others go for the loot. You watch the road. Men of the -Guardia Civil will be riding the hills. When I pass here again, in -returning from Granada, I shall hoot like the eagle owl and you will -answer in the manner of the wolf bitch. Let me know, then, if any -policemen come this way. By this time, the affair of the -Seville-to-Madrid must be loudly bruited abroad in Spain. I should not -wonder if some two Guardias Civiles will ride over this corry in an -attempt to capture me in my own village." - -Perez grunted in ill-concealed distaste of the task. Ignacio Garcia -spoke out. - -"There are many other things loudly bruited abroad in Spain, these days, -maestro mio!" - -Quesada swung completely around in the saddle to face the sullen trio. - -"Carajo! Do you think to trifle with Jacinto Quesada! What is all this -muttering going on here?" - -Garcia shrugged his shoulders noncommittally and a bit fearfully; the -erstwhile Aguilino remained taciturn and lowering of dark brow; but with -a strange audacity that was almost insolence, Estrada ventured: - -"Oh, you will soon learn, Don Jacinto of the high hand!" - -Quesada cursed them angrily for the whelps of dogs; then swung round in -the saddle, dug his heels into the horse's flanks, and headed full-tilt -through the brush. Once back in the trampled band of heath and brambles, -which was the road through the dell, he sped the nag at a gallop up the -dark green corry. - -But topping the rise and dropping down on the other side, he reined in -the cob the better to reconsider the sullen manner and incomprehensible -words of his trio of dorados. - -"The knaves have been bitten by some foul plan," he surmised. "It is not -that they intend to rob me of all share in the booty. Seguramente, no! I -told them they were welcome to the entire lot. Something else is afoot, -God knows what!" - -Coming out of the mournful Pass of the Blessed Trinity, some time later, -he took that one of the three roads which diverged most sharply from the -course pursued by the cabalgadores in climbing up. After a good time -more, he rode through the myrtle and orange trees of the Alpujarras and, -following the Darro, slanted down toward the Moorish city of Granada, -gleaming white on the sides of the hills. - -A few miles outside the city, upon the great hasped door of the -crumbling adobe casa of Torreblanca y Moncada, Quesada knocked -echoingly. After an appreciable space, the little mullion window in the -door was opened, and an old white-haired man peered out with bright -eyes. He was Pedro, the butler. - -"Ah, Mother of God!" he exclaimed, a strange quavering note in his -voice. "It is Jacinto Quesada about whom all Spain talks!" - -"I bring news of the little Felicidad." - -"God grant it is good news!" - -"Good and bad. She is safe in my native pueblo, but she is sick. She is -sick of the same disease that killed off my own poor mother only a few -days ago. It is a plague, Tio Pedro. The whole village is sick with the -dread cholera." - -The old servant ejaculated in horror. - -"It is the hand of God, Jacintito!" he went on with warning -sententiousness. "It is a scourge of God striking down those about you -because of the terrible vile things you have been doing, these last -nights, throughout the peninsula. Take heed, Jacintito mio; take heed -ere it is too late, and all you love are dead!" - -There was something in the old man's words which sounded startlingly and -disagreeably reminiscent of the three dorados, their sullenness, their -mutterings. - -"Disparate!" exclaimed Quesada. "What nonsense is this? Just tell me, -tio; is Don Jaime still away?" - -The white head nodded energetically behind the mullion window. - -"Si; seguramente, si! Ever since that affair of the Seville-to-Madrid, -the senor doctor has been scouring the plains and hills of La Mancha for -his stolen daughter and all his money. Ah, Don Jaime is indeed a hard -man. God pity Felicidad when he finds her!" - -"I come," said Quesada brusquely, tiring of the old man's continual -whine--"I come to get medicines from the hidalgo doctor's chest in order -to combat the pestilence. Once Don Jaime returns, you will tell him of -our plight." - -Came abruptly the grating of hastily drawn bolts; the heavy door swung -in. - -"You know the house; it is yours," said old Pedro with true Spanish -hospitality. - -The bandolero entered the gloom of the corridor. - -"I shall go to find Teresa," added Pedro, as he re-bolted the door. "We -shall kneel, and say prayers for the repose of your mama's soul, and for -the quick recovery of the little nina, Felicidad, and the other sick -ones. When the senor doctor returns, I shall tell him all that you said. -And when he rides away up the steep goat paths to your barrio, we shall -plead with Mary, the Compassionate and the Compassionating, that his -granite heart may soften with pity for his little daughter...." - -As he left the whining voice of the old butler behind him and went -through the long echoing dusky corridors, an orientation took place -within Jacinto Quesada. Back through the years he went; back to the day -when, a scrawny little mountaineer's bantling, he had put his puny hand -into the great harsh fist of the hidalgo doctor and come down the -mountains to the decayed, lizard-haunted, and dingy casa. - -No longer was the muggy mansion the sumptuous palace it had seemed to -his ten-year-old eyes. And yet every spacious poverty-bare room that he -passed and glimpsed was quick and instant to him with memories. They -were memories all of one sort. Memories of a pretty little girl with -golden hair and legs round and pudgy as his own would have been, on that -time, had his father lived and prospered. Unconsciously he found himself -pausing in the gloom as if to catch a note of her rippling and -infrequent laughter. - -The shadowy library seemed never so vast nor so gloomy as now. Most of -the huge old sheepskin-bound books were gone. The voids in the tall -cases, rapidly gathering dust, were as poignantly reminiscent as the -empty chair of one that has died. - -The bandolero went round the walls until he came upon that which he -sought. It was a yellow-leaved volume, lettered in Gothic type, that was -yet not so old. It contained much data on the various forms of cholera, -its causes, symptoms, stages, treatment, dissemination and prevention. - -Running his eye down the columns of print, Quesada discovered that he -would need to carry many drugs, preparations, and aperient and -astringent medicines. At that rate, the ancient volume would prove an -added burden. Quickly he decided to tear the descriptive pages from the -volume. They were all that was desired. - -But of a sudden, he was arrested in his vandal task. Nothing real and -tangible halted him; only it seemed to him that the screams of a child -were driving like knives into his heart. He remembered, then and all at -once, that long-forgotten day when Felicidad, innocently naughty, had -torn some of the richly illumined pages from the rare old books, and cut -them into paper dolls, and been lashed unmercifully with a short whip of -horsehide by her father. - -He saw himself, a lad of ten years, rendered desperate by her screams as -only a child becomes desperate. He saw himself charging at the terrible -hidalgo, screaming like a little animal, tearing at the doctor's -trousers with his finger nails, trying to leap up and upon him. He felt -the fall of the quirta upon his head. It was acutely stinging as in -reality. His jaws snapped together; they snapped together just as they -had snapped, in that dim past day, upon the doctor's wrist. And a grim -satisfaction tingled the edges of his locked teeth. It was for all the -world as if, again, his teeth had sunk into flesh! - -"Ah, you son of a mangy she-wolf!" sounded in his brain. "How's the -wolf-cub to-day?" - -He looked quickly about him. There on the wall he saw that which he had -not noticed before. A painting of the doctor--Don Jaime himself, his -hair whitened by years and by sorrow, and his gray eyes glinting out -from his deep swarth face like remote stars in an intolerant heaven. - -"Todopoderoso Dio'!" groaned Quesada, shuddering. "Pity Felicidad indeed -when he finds her!" - -With a kind of desperation, in one jerk he tore the desired pages from -the book, then hied himself quickly out of the room. - -"It is a haunt of ghosts!" he said almost superstitiously. - -He entered the doctor's laboratory. Here, from chests and racks and -trays, he collected the relieving and remedial agents praised in the -torn pages--opium pills, preparations of starch and laudanum, ammonia, -salt, powdered aromatic chalk, astringents and laxatives. Down in the -cellar, he secured some cobwebbed bottles of old brandy and clear wine. - -He made several trips to his shaggy pony, picketed outside in the road. -He secured what he had gathered in the canvas packs slung from the -saddle. He left without once meeting the aged Teresa or again bothering -the butler, Uncle Pedro. - -He returned up the hills through the passes and green corries. He shoved -the horse ahead at a persistent canter, yet such was the grade and such -the growing leg-weariness of the cob that slow days were consumed in the -journeying. At last, in the dim fresco of a certain nightfall, he found -himself back in that forested dell where he had commanded Rafael Perez -to remain on guard. - -But no chill ululations answered his imitations of the hoot of the eagle -owl. He rode through the brush and across the stream. Back in the -clearing, the door of the log cabin was swinging forlornly in the rising -wind; within, was only dark obscurity and emptiness. Rafael Perez had -fled with the other two! - -Once again Quesada recalled the sullen manner and incomprehensible words -of the trio when he last had met them. He shook his head gloomily. - -"Something surely is afoot!" he murmured. "They mutter against me, they -disobey me with impunity. The dogs of ladrones, they may have turned -traitor! Instead of keeping an eye on the road, Perez may have put the -Guardia Civil on my track. Porvida, it will go hard with them if such -proves true! They'll never live to get the reward. Dios hombre, I swear -it!" - -His temper sharpened and embittered by the discovery, he vented it in -harsh kicks against his pony's flanks. The wearied nag extended itself. -By late dawn, Quesada rode into the gorge from which the goat-path -looped up to the empested village. - -Presently, as they wound through the gorge, unusual signs of alertness -began to show in the tired cob. He lifted his head, pricked up his ears. -He was just about to neigh when the bandolero, on the watch, leaned over -and clamped his hand tightly upon his nostrils. From ahead, on the -instant, breathed into Quesada's ears the neigh of recognition of -another horse. - -The bandolero leaped from the saddle. With one hand firm on the muzzle -of the pony, the other on the butt of the long-barreled revolver -protruding from his holster, tensely he stood waiting and hearkening. - -Into his nostrils drifted the acrid smell of a wood fire. He heard a -clipping staccato sound as of some one chopping faggots. He saw, some -hundred feet ahead, a thin whitish smoke voluting up from the green tops -of the pines and alders, and merging into the fog cloak above. There was -a camp of men in the gorge. - -His vague suspicions of the three dorados congealed into quick and firm -convictions. - -"It is the Guardia Civil," he surmised. And he swore; "By the Nails of -Christ!" - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV - - -Quesada led his horse back around the bend and out of sounding distance. -He picketed him behind a feathery smoke-plant up the side of the gorge. -Then he stole forward toward the camp. - -He caught now, as he drew near, the clatter of tin as of men preparing -breakfast, the tempting aroma of coffee, and the hot sizzle of frying -meat. Creeping through the underwood on hands and knees, silent as a cat -of the wilds, he came to where he could peer through an entangle of -white buckthorn and genista, and out into a trampled space about an -alder tree. - -There were two men in the trampled space. They wore the blue, -red-trimmed uniform of the Guardia Civil. - -The one holding a blackened frying pan over the small blaze of faggots -was facing toward Quesada. His uniform but poorly fitted his squat frame -and broadly uncouth shoulders; it showed palpable signs of having been -slept in the night before. His heavy-jawed, black-mustached face was -sweating copiously from the hot nearness to the fire; he had tossed his -tricorn police hat off his unkempt head and into the weeds behind; he -looked, forsooth, more the type of brigand than ever did Quesada -himself. He was the apelike gendarme, Pascual Montara. - -The other, with back toward Quesada, was busying about the wiry, -coarse-haired ponies to one side. He was a tall man, his uniform as trim -on his military figure as if he had not spent the night on the ground, -and his polished three-corner hat set snugly on his head, white linen -sun-shield behind, in thorough preparation for the day's work. As he -currycombed and brushed the ponies, there was visible on one sleeve the -red-braided chevron of a sergeant. - -"Hola, Don Esteban, mi sargento!" called Pascual at the fire. He put the -frying pan down upon the trampled grass and lifted the coffee pot from -its bed in the coals. - -The tall man turned about and, in full view to the peeping Quesada, came -striding toward the fire. His hair, closely clipped, showed white -beneath his hat; yet there was in him no sign of the weakness of age. He -had a short, knife-sharp white beard, a face as lean and haughty as a -griffon vulture's. He was Sergeant Esteban Alvarado, father of the lover -of the Gypsy Paquita, Miguel Alvarado. - -The two men squatted cross-legged upon the ground opposite each other, -and ate and drank in silence. But Montara, munching prodigiously, kept -continually shaking his ugly head. Finally he said: - -"Seguramente, yes! It is the wild-goose chase." - -"Pascual Montara," said the old man severely, "your talk shows you -unfaithful to your duty." - -"Duty, za! It is my head I use, Don Esteban. Did not the Americano tell -us last night, from the great rock above, that the village is in the -throes of the cholera? We cannot go into the barrio for fear of taking -the disease, and they will not leave the pueblo for fear of spreading it -about the countryside. - -"We have done our duty, mi sargento. We have found the American, the -great Morales, and his whole cuadrilla. They are safe. And they can -please themselves when they want to come down. Valgate Dios, it is not -in our instructions to drag them into civilization by the hair of their -head!" - -"Muy bueno. But it is in our instructions to capture and kill Jacinto -Quesada--" - -"Who is not in Minas de la Sierra. I tell you, Don Esteban, that -Americano does not lie. This is Quesada's native barrio, true; but he is -no friend of Jacinto Quesada. Jacinto Quesada robbed him in that affair -of the Seville-to-Madrid; for weeks he has been pursuing the Wolf -through the sierras. He says Quesada is not in the village." - -The sergeant chewed his meat in silence. It was a dour silence, as if he -refused to argue, yet was not convinced by the logic of the other. -Beneath it, there seemed an undercurrent of imperial anger. - -Opening his mouth wide as he ate, Montara looked at him sharply, from -under black bushy brows. - -"Must I argue as I did last night?" he asked aggressively. "You say that -we have them all bagged, including Quesada, in this eagle's nest. But I -say Quesada is not there. He has not been up in this barrio for months. -He has been swinging like a pendulum back and forth across the two -Spains. My soul, he is like ten men for being in more places than one. -If he were up here, how can you account for that affair of the -Despenaperros over three weeks ago?" - -"I must admit that," qualified the old man condescendingly. "My son -Miguel and I were stationed in the Pass at the time. Miguelito said he -was sure it was Quesada who stuck-up the automobile and beat to death -the rich Englishman. The Englishman's pale wife described the bandolero. -It was indeed Quesada. But that outrage, coming on top of the hold-up of -the Seville-to-Madrid, must surely have caused the outlaw to seek refuge -in his village." - -"But it didn't, Don Esteban. You've heard of that happening in the -Alameda of Valladolid on a night two weeks ago. While the people, bent -on enjoying the open-air cinema, were all gathered on the grass in the -hot night, he appeared before the large white sheet and, pointing two -guns at them, brazenly called out that he was Jacinto Quesada. Then, -while the members of the civic orchestra were playing some outrageous -gypsy tune in obedience to his command, he slipped quietly away. I -cannot account for it myself. He gathered no gold from the crowd. But -sacred blood! it was bold." - -"It was too bold for me to believe," objected Alvarado, shaking his -head. "Tut, it is but a story of the people. They are forever building -wonderful adventures and sentimental romances about these hungry dogs of -bandoleros. One would think that the wolves were gentlemen and fine -heroes, and we of the Guardia Civil only ratty red-eyed ferrets!" - -Pascual vehemently nodded his heavy head. - -"I know, I know!" he agreed heartily. "It is no longer any honor to -wear the uniform of the police in Spain. But what think you now of my -argument, Don Esteban? Need I recite that shocking affair of the Plaza -de Toros of Seville? The glamorous Moors of Spain do not make up stories -about their bandoleros robbing brave matadors in the House of God. It is -a lizard's trick. Since Quesada stuck-up the popular espada, Lagartijo, -in the bullfighters' chapel of Seville, all Spain has been stunned by -the sacrilege. And that was but one short week gone--" - -Jacinto Quesada drew back from the entangled buckthorn and genista. His -brow was ruffled as a mountain stream. So this was the meaning of his -dorados' sullen insinuations! Come to think of it, even old Pedro down -in Granada had been struck aghast at sight of him whom he had known from -a boy. - -"Ah, Mother of God!" old Pedro had exclaimed, a strange quavering note -in his voice. "It is Jacinto Quesada about whom all Spain talks!" And he -had added, upon hearing of the plague: "It is the hand of God, -Jacintito! It is a scourge of God striking down those about you because -of the terrible vile things you have been doing, these last nights, -throughout the peninsula!" - -Some unknown was sticking-up persons on the road and in far-off -alamedas, and then, with bluster and insane braggadocio, announcing he -was Jacinto Quesada! The fool had cold murder in his bowels! He had -killed a foreigner, an Englishman. He slayed like a ferocious beast or a -crazed man. And he had abused the sanctity of the chapel of the -bullfighters in the Plaza de Toros of Seville. The thing was unheard of. -It was sacrilege! - -"By the wounds of Christ!" swore Quesada softly. "The fellow is odious -and detestable. And all his vile ordure is flung at my head. The -creature is braiding a noose for my neck!" - -Out in the trampled space about the alder tree, the sergeant's voice had -risen with a peremptory note. - -"Do not stay here, Pascual Montara! It is against all the code of the -Guardia Civil, but zut! ride away without me, and you please. I stay -here. Understand, hombre; I stay here! Every wolf has his lair, every -bandolero his home. This barrio above is Quesada's home. In a week or a -month, he must return here. I shall wait that week or that month. He can -come only this way. When he comes this way, by the Life! I shall rid -Spain forever of his baneful presence!" - -Jacinto Quesada stole back around the bend to his picketed horse. From -behind the cantle of the saddle, he removed those canvas packs which -contained the drugs, preparations, and liquors he had gathered at the -doctor's casa. He unwound the reins from about a branch of the sumach -bush and tied them loosely to the pommel of the saddle. He broke off a -hairy flower stalk from the smoke-plant. Then, with an eye to quietude, -carefully he led the pony down the brushy side of the gorge. - -Once in the dust-coated road which wound through the bottom of the -gorge, he faced the pony down the way he had come and inserted, under -the brows of the saddle against the spine, the setule of flower stalk. -Immediately the animal, irritated out of his weariness, began fidgeting, -flicking his tail, snapping his head round on either side, baring his -long yellow teeth and crinkling again and again the skin of his back. - -Quesada stepped to one side. With his open hand, he struck the horse a -resounding thwack upon the rump. The pony leaped forward, the bristle of -flower stalk painfully rubbing his spine. Ere he could recover from the -shock of the blow and pause to lessen the aggravating pricking under the -saddle, Quesada snapped out his revolver and discharged it in the air -behind him--bang, bang! Exasperated and thoroughly frightened, the horse -fled precipitantly down the road. - -While the winding gutter of gorge detonated with the hoof-clatter of the -racing horse and while the rock walls flung back and forth, like -sounding-boards, the sharp metallic explosions of the pistol, Jacinto -Quesada bounded up the brushy side to where, behind the feathery -wig-plant, he had flung the canvas saddlebags. - -He was none too quick. Like a louder echo of the echoes sounded up the -gorge, of a sudden, the crang of a carbine; then the thundering hoof -beats of horses careering down at full tilt; and then the voices of men -lunging up in the dread challenge and command of the police: - -"Alto a la Guardia Civil! Halt for the Civil Guard!" - -Quesada crouched behind the whitish-green thicket of sumach, and waited -tense as a trigger at half-cock. - -Around the bend up the road drove into view like a lean racing terrier a -wiry rough-coated pony, hoofs pounding in a quick rataplan, barrel low -to the dust, and ears flattened sharply back. Upright in the saddle, a -carbine across the hollow of one arm, was the tall sergeant of police, -linen sun-shield flying straight behind like a white guidon snapping in -a wind. - -"Don't shoot, Montara!" he called back from an eager keen-edged face. -"Don't shoot till you see the hair on his neck!" - -"Shoot his horse!" answered a roaring shout. "Carajo! In all our lives, -we may never get another such chance at Jacinto Quesada!" - -Around the bend, like a screaming projectile, lunged another pony, neck -extended, nostrils blowing red, and the ugly policeman Montara standing -a-tiptoe in the stirrups. Montara was like some wild Arab in a mad -display of horsemanship. He swayed back and forth; he waved the carbine -in one long apelike hand. Carried away by the lust of the chase, he -shouted repeatedly from his blood-darkened countenance: - -"Alto a la Guardia Civil! Alto, alto! Alto a la Guardia Civil!" - -Ponies and riders plunged behind a huge brown boulder down the road and -out of sight. Quesada snapped up. Active as an ape, he slung the canvas -packs over his shoulders and leaped down the brushy side of the gorge. -What time the stony defile echoed and reechoed with the distance-dimming -clangor of pounding hoofs and turbulent shouts, he sped, on his long -mountaineer's legs, up the convolutions of the goat path to the -empested barrio. - -The crang of a carbine suddenly spearing aloft from down the gorge -caused him to halt on the great rock at the brink of the village. He -looked back. He smiled somberly. - -"That will be my poor horse," he remarked. "He has halted for the -Guardia Civil!" - - - - -CHAPTER XXV - - -To Jacinto Quesada, returned after an absence of over a week, the -village of Minas de la Sierra wore an inexplicably strange appearance. -Gone utterly--mud and thatch and wooden shutters--were the chozas in -which the widowed mother of the mountain boy, Gabriel, had lain sick and -the white-haired Villarobledo had died. Where the huts had stood were -now only empty spans. - -Before the other huts had been built a covered wooden flume, as for the -carrying off of sewage. Down the old Moorish gutter in the center of the -uneven street coursed a clear quick stream with cold reflections and -tiny gurgling noises that seemed to tempt one to drink. - -Otherwise, nothing stirred in the chill morning sunlight. No serranos -stood in the low doorways of the cabanas or hovered about the cork-oak -tree in the center of the barrio. The village seemed a village of the -dead. - -Quesada hastened across the street, muddy and slippery from the heavy -fog of the night prior. As he did, of a sudden from the direction of the -little whitewashed chapel, there drifted down to his ears a continuous -moaning and groaning. It sounded bodiless and unearthly in the thin air -of that high altitude. - -He knew thereat. Carson, the American, following out his scheme of -sanitation, had segregated the sick. The tiny village chapel had been -converted into a hospital. Within in the painful obscurity, behind those -apertures that were now screened against flies with flimsy calico, men -were moving back and forth on solemn and fearful tasks. - -Quesada made his way into the cabana where he had left Felicidad. -Inside, in the gloom, he found John Fremont Carson visiting the girl in -the course of his rounds. - -Propped by a pillow, the golden-haired girl was sitting up in the bed. -Her cheeks were still white as ivory; but there was a brave new light in -her blue eyes. She was convalescing. Carson was holding for her, with -kind concern, a bowl of vegetable soup, thin and easily digestible. - -Looking over the American's shoulder, she was the first to discover the -bandolero. With glad and genuine effusiveness, in a voice that yet -showed husky traces of the vox cholerica, she cried: - -"My soul! It is Jacintito come back to us!" - -The American got quickly afoot and shook hands warmly. - -"Have you brought the stuff?" he greeted solicitously. - -"Seguramente, si!" smiled Quesada. "And we may thank the bueno Dios that -the senor doctor, from long tending to cholera cases, had every little -thing we needed!" - -He unslung, with the words, the swollen canvas bags from his shoulders -and placed them upon the leaf-stuffed couch to one side. - -With care and deep concern, Carson fingered and opened the many boxes, -bottles, and preparations. It was as if each were some priceless jewel. -He made odd little sounds in his throat, expressive of discovery and -relief and infinite joy. - -"Here are the pages, Senor Carson, which will tell you all about the -cholera. The book was too heavy for me to carry; I had so many other -things; and therefore I tore these pages out bodily." - -The American nodded and shoved the torn pages into a pocket of his coat. - -"And my father?" exclaimed Felicidad. Perhaps to her, as had happened to -Quesada himself, there was something poignantly reminiscent in this talk -of tearing pages from one of the rare old books of the hidalgo doctor. - -"He is still away," answered Quesada vaguely. - -The American looked up sharply from uncorking one of the cobwebbed -bottles of wine. - -"You left word?" - -Quesada nodded constrainedly, as if against his will. He could not say -Don Jaime must soon follow him up the mountains. He could not look at -the girl. He feared overwhelmingly for Felicidad, once her father should -arrive. He was afraid lest his Moorish eyes might betray him. - -Carson mixed a narcotic of the wine and a pinch of opium, and proffered -it to the girl. - -"It will relieve internal distress," he explained, "and induce -strength-building sleep." - -They came out into the open--the bandolero and the American. - -"How many dead?" queried the former. - -"Only three. Villarobledo, of course; a seven-month-old baby; and the -widowed mother of the lad, Gabriel. She died two nights ago." - -"Not so bad," commented Quesada hopefully. - -"No; but we got fully twenty sick, all stages. I must get these drugs up -to them. They're suffering pitifully. On the way I can show you a bit of -what we have done, and tell you the rest." - -He indicated the open stone bed of the old Moorish flume, as they -followed it up the uneven street. - -"Notice how clear the water is? That comes from our nitration system. Up -above, at the top of the village, we deepened the channel in one spot. -We put a layer of large stones on the bottom of the pit, above that a -stratum of pebbles, and on top of all, a coating of fine sand. The -water, seeping through those straining layers, is purged of all foreign -substances, thoroughly purified." - -The bandolero nodded his comprehension. They made on. - -"Morales and his men have proved as good as their word. With their -hands, they cleaned the scum from every inch of that stone flume. Manuel -himself is simply fine, a prince!" Carson added with that touch of -familiarity which denotes the warmest appreciation. - -"Then we made two cut-offs from the flume," he continued. "One supplies -that box-channel near the houses to expedite the carrying-off of sewage. -The other is in the nature of a floodgate leading into a hole, deep as -your neck." He smiled faintly. "Many's the time I've made a sluice of -this order, when I was mining for gold out in California, but never -before for this particular purpose." - -"And what purpose is that?" - -"Well, when somebody goes cold and collapsed from the cholera, we lift -the floodgate and let the water flow into the hole. Meanwhile, we heat a -bunch of stones in the coals of a fire. We throw the stones into the -water and then, when the bath is at the proper temperature, we lower the -patient gently into it. Hot baths usually give relief. In the case of -Gabriel's mother, they helped to prolong her life. After the bath, we -massage the limbs thoroughly to circulate the blood and take out the -kinks of the cramps." - -"You have been working most arduously, Senor Carson," said Quesada. - -He was looking keenly at the American. Traces of fearful toil and many -sleepless nights showed in Carson's face. His once square countenance -was thinned into bony angles; there were heavy pouches under the eyes; -and the eyes themselves were no longer merry, but severely, crisply -blue. - -With uneasy characteristic modesty, the American fidgeted at the canvas -packs in his hands. - -"Oh, yes; a trifle," he admitted reluctantly. "We've all been pretty -busy. We had to shovel two infected cabanas over the cliff. The stream -through the gorge carried the debris away. We've burned every rag and -soiled bit of clothes and bedding in the pueblo. I tell you, I was -mighty glad to help out in that task!" - -He took the canvas packs in one hand and felt in his pocket, with the -other, for the torn pages Quesada had given him. He ran his eyes quickly -over the printed words. Presently he looked up. Quesada had not spoken -in that spell of time. He noted now a little frowning knuckle on the -young bandolero's forehead. - -"You are worrying, Jacinto!" he said, sharp as an accusation. - -Quesada was startled. - -"Dios hombre!" he exclaimed. "It is but the truth." - -"But why? The plague? Felicidad or her father?" - -Quesada shook his head morosely. - -"It is none of these things, God forgive me, Don Juan. It is that I am -worrying selfishly about Jacinto Quesada alone. When you mentioned the -stream through the gorge carrying away the debris of the two infected -cabanas, it set my mind back. I thought of the two policemen down in -that gorge. Don Juan, they are waiting for me!" - -"It is not that Jacinto Quesada is afraid, surely!" - -"Carajo, no! I fear these Guardias Civiles no more than I fear the -plague, and you know, senor, I do not fear the plague. The Wolf of the -Sierras has become too long used to death to be afraid to die. But, Don -Juan, I fear what these men say. They would kill me for crimes I have -never done. It is not just, my friend, to be hounded for acts you never -perpetrated. They would kill me for the crimes of some other man, a -sneaking masquerader, a loathsome, brutal, sacrilegious creature! Mother -of God, I worry because I do not understand!" - -"Worry is poison," said the American dogmatically. "Every moment you -worry is as if you poured a glass of poison into your system. Jacinto, -do you want to make yourself liable to the scourge?" - -It was a grim warning. Quesada shook his head vehemently. He could not -answer. A scream as of intolerable agony precluded, for the moment, -further speech. They were nearing the dingy, whitewashed, thatch-and-mud -chapel of the village. On the heels of the awful scream, saddening their -ears continuously, now breathed a dull low monotone of pain. - -They entered the sick bay. On either side, down the whole length of the -chapel from doorway to wooden white-painted altar, was a raised platform -of pine slabs with a slight pitch toward the central passageway between. -Swathed in blankets side by side on the platforms, doubling up with -cramps in arms and legs and abdomen, groaning in acute anguish, or lying -fearfully still in stages of collapse, were fully a score of sick and -dying--men, young and old; girls in their teens and mothers of families; -and one little tad of a boy. He was the lad, Gabriel, who had announced -the plague when first the party of cabalgadores had gained the village. - -Quesada discovered a difficulty in breathing; he felt his head reel. The -air was close and offensive with sweaty bilious odors and the sharp -pungent smell of turpentine. He noted two candles burning wanly upon the -dingy altar. - -Carson had left him to go from sufferer to dying with the balm of his -new-found drugs. When Morales came forward to greet him, the bandolero -remarked: - -"Those candles there, friend Manuel! They add to the stifling closeness -of the place." - -"They are a symbol of our religion." - -"I know; but there is no real need of them here. They waste the precious -air." - -Morales smiled slowly. - -"You and I would not need the reminder of the orthodox wax candles, -Jacinto; but these serranos lack spunk. They believe they are doomed to -die, and die just to prove it. The burning candles typify the living -presence of the Lord. Their yellow flames hearten some to fight to live; -others suffer and die more patiently in their wan presence--" - -A hoarse exclamation upon the part of Quesada interrupted the matador. -Quesada had noted, among the blanketed patients, one of Morales' own -cuadrilla, the banderillero, Alfonso Robledo. Shocked and violently -agitated, Quesada gripped the matador's arm. - -"But this man! How comes he sick? He is a bullfighter, a banderillo, a -strong man, muscled like a leopard, stout of heart!" - -Said Morales grimly, "The pestilence respects neither strength nor -weakness, race, profession, nor creed." - -One of the cuadrilla attending the sick, the picador called Coruncho -Lopez, paused in his labors to remark: - -"Robledo is ill through contagion. Two nights ago, the mother of the boy -Gabriel died. Alfonso and I carried the body down through the village to -the lip of the gorge. Her clothes were infected." - -"Oh, mia mamacita!" wailed the lad, Gabriel, from his corner of the -sick bay. "Now I am all alone in the world and sick to die!" - -The bandolero turned to him. - -"Hush, nino!" he said tenderly. "You have still Jacinto Quesada to look -after you!" - -The boy quieted. Gratefully he looked up at the salteador with black -eyes that smoldered in deep-sunken pits. When Carson, in the course of -his rounds, offered him a preparation of cornstarch and milk to -alleviate the pangs of his stomach, he swallowed it readily. - -"It is not safe to use opium in any form in the cases of children," -explained the American to Quesada. - -There was a sudden stir behind them. Coruncho Lopez, the picador, who -had been nursing the sick, was taken with an unexpected and brutal -seizure. He held his stomach and doubled up. In intense agony, he -moaned, "Water, water!" - -Carson hurried out to draw fresh water. In the short wait the disease -made astonishing progress on the man. His muscled frame jackknifed with -acute cramps. By the time Carson returned with the water, his face had -darkened to a purple hue, and the skin wrinkled up as if it would crack. - -They sat him upon the edge of one of the platforms, but he fell back. -His body was all at once cold. He was in the asphyxial stage, all -animation suspended, no beat of pulse, apparently dead. - -Carson held an open bottle of ammonia beneath his nose. It had no -effect; the man was not breathing. He forced brandy down his throat, but -the picador lay still and chilly cold. He was dead. - -Thus, swift and silent as the pounce of a condor, strikes the terrible -cholera! - -It was almost impossible to believe that the man was dead. Only an ace -of time before, he had moved about, so valiant to aid, so tender to -nurse. Death had come too cruelly abrupt. It was appalling. - -Carson looked about in the sudden and apprehensive silence. He did not -note the tall athletic form of the Frenchman darkening on the moment the -doorway. His blue eyes were blunted, somber with gloom; his rugged face -was very gray. - -"That proves it," Carson said. "This man got the plague from carrying -out the contagious body of that boy's mother. There'll be no more -carrying of dead bodies down the cliffside to cast into the stream. It -isn't right to us to have to bear the infected dead so far; it isn't -right to the serranos in the hills below that their stream should float -diseased bodies and make them liable to the epidemic. With this death, -we'll change our methods. We'll cremate the bodies, immediately below -here, on the great rock of the village!" - -Mutterings of dissent, abhorrence, and strong condemnation went up from -the men of the cuadrilla who were assisting in the hospital. Even some -of the convalescing and slightly sick rose up in their blankets to -express disapproval and fearful apprehension. Their religious scruples -were shocked, outraged. Cremation was to them contrary to the practices -of their religion. - -They did not know that the tenets of their religion--like the tenets of -any professedly divine religion, or the statutes of any confessedly -human law--were capable of drastic and remarkable innovations under the -stress of necessity. They believed that their system of sacred services -was without elasticity, firm and inexorable. - -They were only ignorant. Never had most of them heard of -pronunciamientos, papal bulls, nuncio rescripta which, when it was not -only fit, but expedient and profitable so to do, had changed, remolded, -or altogether cast out certain rites and dogmas. They were not so much -devotedly pious. They were hidebound, superstitiously fearful. - -Jacques Ferou, halted in the doorway, observed all with his -slate-colored, calculating eyes. Slowly he smiled his superior and -peculiar smile; then turned away and made for the cabanas which still -sheltered well men. An insidious drama was afoot. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI - - -Carson paid no heed to the mutterings all about him. Alone and -unassisted, he swathed the body in a new clean blanket. - -"That will stop communication of the disease from the body to the -bearers," he said. He surveyed the group about him. "Now, who will carry -out the dead?" - -The men looked at one another. No one stepped forward to volunteer. - -Jacinto Quesada, standing in the background, sensed immediately, then, -to what a stage things had come. He elbowed through the throng. Quietly -he picked up the blanket-swathed figure. - -"Senor Carson," he said, as he turned around, the form of the picador -held before him in his arms; "you are doing the correct thing. Cremation -is the sanitary expedient." - -The American thanked him with his eyes. He followed Quesada out the -doorway. They went down the uneven village street. The men of the -cuadrilla trooped after. From the cabanas on either hand serranos, -stirred up by the insidious Ferou, crept out like wolves stretching -forth from their dens. - -Carson never looked back. He could hear the men muttering behind him; he -realized some dark scheme was pulsing in their brains; yet he never -looked back. He strode, at the head of all that muttering milling -throng, down the street toward the rock. - -As they neared the rock, suddenly he swung about. The men stopped, -huddled back from him. - -"Get wood!" he shouted. "Anything inflammable!" - -The men shoved forward, crowded together, and eyed him with furtive, -wily eyes. No one moved to obey. - -"Go ahead, Don Juan!" shouted a voice from behind. "I'll collect the -wood!" - -It was Manuel Morales, proving bigger in the emergency than any -superstitious dread. A deep-throated muttering went up from the men. But -his quick courageous action had robbed them, for the moment, of that -focus of interest, anger, and insubordination which leads to mob -violence. - -Carson swung round to start on again. As he did, he saw that Quesada, -behind his back, had deposited the dead burden upon the muddy ground and -was stooping and cupping up water from the old Moorish flume to quench -his hot thirst. - -"Stop!" he cried, his voice chill with warning and terrible dread. -"Jacinto, you are in a sweat! Don't you know that copious drinking of -cold water while in this condition is one of the direct causes of -cholera!" - -Quesada stepped back, momentarily aghast. The sweat quickened and poured -from his brown youthful face. Suddenly he laughed. - -"It is no importa," he said, with returned calmness. He strode on under -the weight of his gruesome burden. - -Carson followed at his heels and, at the heels of the American, -straggled like so many famished wolves, the men of the cuadrilla and the -serranos of the pueblo. - -Quesada was in haste to deposit the body upon the rock. He felt a -strange dizziness in his head. He did not want to admit it, yet he -feared it foretokened an attack of the pestilence. At this crucial time, -he did not want the dizziness to show in his actions. That would -evidence the plague. And were the men to note it, they would think it -the hand of God striking him down for aiding in the cremation. It would -precipitate them into some insensate and ferocious act. - -He held himself severely erect. There were spots dancing before his -eyes, yet he made out that one of the cuadrilla, a short thick-set -banderillero named Baptista Monterey, had stepped forward from the mob. -The banderillero, his ordinary black street clothes rendering him -inconspicuous in the mob, had been standing quietly alongside the tall -blond Frenchman. It was Ferou himself who had shoved him forward. The -man spoke. - -"You cannot burn the body, senor caballero of my heart! Cremation is a -desecration of the earthly vessel of the soul. It is against our -religion!" - -"Jacinto Quesada himself has given you the reason for the need of it," -returned Carson coldly. "Cremation is the sanitary expedient." - -"But the body belongs to the Espiritu Santo! You cannot--" - -"What is this, Baptista Monterey!" came a new voice, an astonished and -wrathful voice. - -Quesada found himself unable to see its owner. An opaque blackness was -fogging his eyes. But he knew that the voice belonged to Manuel Morales. - -"Put down the wood, Manuel!" he heard Carson say. There was a strange -note in the American's voice, a grim metallic note. "Go away. Get more -wood, Manuel. Leave me alone. They tell me I cannot burn the dead. They -are rebellious. I'll show them!" - -Quesada gripped himself that he might bear on. There was a rushing and -pounding of blood in his ears. The voices seemed fainting low and dim -with distance, as if the speakers were drifting away from him. - -"Senor Carson," feebly he heard Morales say, "this is your affair, but I -am stanchly behind you. When you took up this task of cleansing the -scourge from the barrio, I said that Manuel Morales and all his -cuadrilla would be yours to command. It is so; they _are_ yours; they -must obey you! I go away; I leave them to you. Do with them what you -will. Teach them!" - -Like the noise of a remote waterfall came to Quesada's ears a muffled -crash. It might have been the sudden casting upon the rock of a bundle -of faggots. He only knew, of a sudden and all at once, that he was -reeling. The water he had drunk seemed turned to liquid fire; his -stomach was burning up, his whole tottering frame was burning up! - -As from far away, he heard a shout. He could not see. - -"Heart of God--look! Jacinto Quesada! He is falling! He has got it, he -has got it!" - -Quesada felt himself pitching forward and falling, falling, falling as -if from one of the cinder-gray precipices of the sierras. A rush of -sound boomed in his ears: - -"It is the hand of God! Aupa, aupa! It is a divine sign that we are -right! Porvida, men! Down the sacrilegious Americano! Sweep him from the -rock! Kill him, kill him! He must not burn our dead!" - -A tremendous sound seemed to burst the membranes of the bandolero's -ears. Perhaps it was the report of an automatic. At any rate, as if a -bullet had thudded on his own frontal bone, he felt a sudden dazzling -crash against his forehead. He had banged down upon the rock! - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII - - -John Fremont Carson stood upon the great rock at the brink of the -village and surveyed, above the ugly snub nose of his automatic, the -surge of men before him. One shot from that automatic had garroted the -rebellion. At his feet sprawled the short thick-set form of Baptista -Monterey, a tiny flaming crater in his right temple where a -steel-jacketed bullet had found his life. - -Behind Carson lay Jacinto Quesada, stricken and spread-eagled from the -plague. The men stood staggered and cowed before him, fascinated with -fear and deep awe. - -"Quick, one of you!" exploded the American. "Carry Quesada to the sick -bay!" - -There was a sudden stir among the apprehensively huddled men. The tall -gray-suited Frenchman stepped forward, - -"Allow me, monsenor." - -With a gentle concern, astonishing from him, he rolled the long-legged -form of the bandolero snugly in his serape and then, staggering under -the weight, leaden with unconsciousness, started off up the uneven -street toward the chapel. - -Carson flourished his automatic. - -"Pronto!" he yelled. "Into your huts, you serranos! You of the -cuadrilla, back to your work in the hospital!" - -The men dispersed like a foggy neblina under the rays of the sun. - -Ferou was some distance ahead of the cuadrilla as it tramped, bowed of -head, back up the street. Carson and Morales remained on the rock, -busying with the fire which would cremate the remains. There was no one -to see. - -The Frenchman seized the opportunity. With one hand, he reached under -the long mountaineer's shawl that swathed Quesada's body; he reached -into the inside pocket of the sheepskin zamarra. He drew forth a small -mahogany-colored leather purse. That purse had once been his own. - -Without bothering to open it, he thrust it into a pocket of his gray -tweed suit. He knew. Within, in that small mahogany-colored leather -purse, was the tightly wound roll of five-thousand peseta bills he had -stolen from Don Jaime de Torreblanca y Moncada! - -When Carson hurried up, a short spell later, to tend to Quesada, Ferou -was awaiting him in the hospital, apparent anxiety upon his ashy-hued -face. - -"Monsenor Carson," he said deferentially, "to-day must have taught you a -lesson. It is not wise that these bullfighters and serranos should be -armed. They might rise again. I would some advice give you. Collect all -the arms in the barrio and keep them under your own hand." - -The suggestion met with accord from the American. Readily he could see -its precautionary value against future rebellion. - -"Just a little, and I'll be finished doing all I can for Jacinto; then -I'll be with you." - -Together they made a round of the cabanas. They requisitioned ancient -muzzle-loading smooth-bores, Mannlichers, Mauser carbines, revolvers, -old-fashioned pistols, and guns with muzzles wide as the mouth of a -French horn. In Quesada's choza, where Felicidad slept and hourly gained -strength, they found a modern smokeless breech-loading hunting gun, a -cordite repeater. - -They were tireless and microscopically thorough in the search. Despite -the mutterings and scowls of the serranos, they seized every instrument -which might be used as a weapon of offense. They collected Manchegan -knives, navajas, razors, and even alpenstocks and shovels. Against the -cork-oak tree in the center of the pueblo street, they made a heap of -the conglomeration. - -They had circled back to the hospital, and Ferou had entered to disarm -the members of the cuadrilla therein, when Carson, following at his -heels, made a sudden clutch at the jamb of the door. - -"Hola!" exclaimed Morales, just then coming up behind from the cremation -rock at the brink of the pueblo. "Sacred blood, what's the matter, Don -Juan!" - -Ferou slewed swiftly round. Both men, the one within, the other without -the chapel, eyed the American in the doorway. There was a strange, -almost hopeful expectancy in the slate-colored eyes of the Frenchman; in -the dark thick-lashed eyes of the matador a terrible voiceless dread. - -Carson drew himself up. It was a visible effort. His angular face looked -grayly haggard; his lips were drawn tight over his teeth. - -"It is nothing," he said slowly. "I feel a little faint, that's all. I -guess the excitement of this morning has upset me. It will soon pass -off." - -"You must lie down, mi camarada," said Morales gently but firmly. "You -have not slept in two nights--since the night when that boy's mother -died, and last night when Robledo of my cuadrilla slapped under. You -need rest. You have been doing the work of three men, of thirty men, -tending Felicidad, doctoring in here, directing and administering to -all. You must lie down." - -The American made to stagger through into the sick bay; but Morales -stopped him with a steadying hand upon his shoulder. - -"Not here," he advised softly. "We are overcrowded already. Besides, for -you to lie in this atmosphere, would make you more liable to the plague. -Come to Quesada's cabana. Felicidad is feeling quite strong to-day. -There is an unused couch there. Felicidad will see that you want for -nothing." - -"But Quesada--" - -"I will take care of him. Jacinto is a brave man; he has the will to -live. Everything in my power I shall do, Don Juan, to see that he does -live." - -With one shaking hand, Carson fumbled in his pocket. He finally drew out -a number of yellow printed leaves that had been torn from a book. - -"Here are the instructions of what to do," he said wearily. - -Morales took the yellow illumined pages. His honest Andalusian face was -grave with an intenseness of sincerity. - -"Senor Carson," he said almost formally, "everything you have done, I -will attempt to do. You may rest easily in the knowledge and conviction -that I am carrying forward all that you planned. Your methods have -proved good methods. There have been deaths, true; but never, in an -epidemic of cholera, have I known so few deceases, so many recoveries. -Steadfastly, with fortitude and without deviation, with a stout heart -and an iron hand, I shall put through your modern sanitary methods. -Senor, I will even cremate the dead!" - -It was enough. Guided and aided by the matador, Carson stumbled down the -uneven street toward Quesada's cabana. The Frenchman looked after the -two, through the chapel doorway, and smiled his calculating and very -superior smile. - -When Morales returned, Ferou pointed out the heaped-up scramble of -weapons under the cork-oak tree and explained what he and Carson had -been about. - -"If the Senor Americano thought it a good plan," said Morales with -promptitude and decision, "I will go through with it. My word has been -given in promise. Whatever Don Juan started, that shall I attempt to -finish." - -He entered the hospital. Within, what remained of his cuadrilla were -watching and nursing the sick. They were now only three. Of the others, -the banderillero, Baptista Monterey, had been killed in the rebellion on -the rock; Coruncho Lopez, the picador, was dead from the plague; and -another banderillero, Alfonso Robledo, was still numbered among the -blanketed patients on the platforms. - -"Here, you peones," said Morales to the three. "Take off your guns and -knives! It is the order of the Senor Carson." - -The bullfighters darted quick glances at one another. They were nervous -and suspicious. Why did the matador want them to disarm? What did he -purpose doing, once he had them unarmed--punish them for their -participation in that morning's rebellion? They feared to disobey the -matador, yet they feared more the intent behind the command. They -hesitated. - -"Shed your own weapons, Don Manuel," suggested the insidious Ferou in a -whisper. "Then the men will understand that it is a general order which -applies to all, without favoritism." - -"Dios hombre!" exclaimed Morales, growing irritated. "Must I coax my -peones to obey the command of their own matador?" - -"It is not that, Don Manuel. These men are only poor silly Spaniards who -do not understand. They are afraid of your reason for thus asking them -to disarm. If you discard your weapons, they will realize there is -nothing to fear. They will follow suit. And you will have set the peones -the example, like a true matador!" - -"Disparate!" ejaculated Morales. "What nonsense!" But just the same, -realizing that it was the simplest way to attain the end in view, he -removed from about his waist the belt on which were suspended a revolver -and sheathed knife. - -Readily then the three bullfighters emulated his example. And Jacques -Ferou carried all the weapons to the pile beneath the cork-oak tree. -Outside and beyond eyeshot, he saw fit to indulge, once more, in his -exasperating smile. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII - - -Chill and damp took turns about with rock-glare and sudden heat to aid -and abet their deadly ally, the cholera. Thick neblinas, dank mists, and -wispy rains cloaked the sierras, night and morning; the noonday sun -broke through and refracted its rays with intense heat from stony gorge -and crag; easterly gales or levantes swept down from the pinnacles and -drove all away with dense snowstorms, abrupt and blinding, violent and -icy; and all the while, inside the four mud walls of cabana and chapel, -the barrio continued to retch and writhe in the grasp of the vomit. - -Felicidad was showing signs of slow but evident improvement. Within the -hospital, there was hope for Quesada's recovery, but imminent danger of -a relapse and speedy death. - -The bandolero was languishing in the third reactive stage of malignant -cholera. There had come to him a surcease of the agonizing symptoms. No -longer was there any want of pulse; his skin had returned to its almost -normal hue; his body was once more warm. It was too warm. He was burning -up with a kind of typhoid fever that kept him on his back and affected -his brain. - -He had weird dreams and horrible vagaries. Always was he the hounded -victim of a terrible mistake. Pursued relentlessly by two beagles of the -Guardia Civil, he saw himself, in one fancy, seeking sanctuary in a -monastery. Under the irrevocable seal of confession, his past crimes -were forgiven him. He went from monastery to seminary where he achieved -in all piety the sacrament of Holy Orders. - -Garbed in black chasuble, he imagined himself saying Mass, one day, when -a tall, lean-faced, white-haired sergeant of police entered. As he -turned from the golden pyx, containing the Host, and raised his arms in -a Dominus Vobiscum, straight through the lungs the policeman shot him. -Like Thomas à Becket of old, he pictured himself falling wounded to -death upon the stainless cloth of the altar! - -Carson was suffering, meanwhile, all the agonies he so often had -witnessed and so intrepidly had tried to assuage. He had caught the -cholera. The excitement of that crucial time upon the rock had -over-stirred and heated him, and made of his body a hot forcing place -for the virulent micro-organisms of the plague. - -Ere he could be removed from Quesada's cabana to the sick bay, he was -enduring all the intolerable tortures of purgatory. With that firm -unshakable courage of the great-souled woman, Felicidad had offered, -then, to watch over him and to nurse him back to life. - -Alone of all the directing geniuses, only Manuel Morales and Jacques -Ferou were left upstanding upon their two feet. Even the three -bullfighters, who had been so helpful to aid, were stretched out on the -platforms in the hospital, sick and wretched and wholly impotent. - -The work had settled down to a fearful routine. More than once Morales -fairly cleared the hospital of healed and dead, only to find, as he -breathed a sigh of relief, that new cases were falling and filling the -sick bay to overflowing and pouring out into the cabanas. There had been -some hundred souls in the pueblo. There still lingered fourscore. - -There came a day when the boy whose mother had died and who had wailed -in a corner of the chapel, sunk through a slow process of harrowing -ravages into the algid stage of the scourge. Morales carried out the -little fellow. The boy was chattering with subnormal cold. Morales -immersed him in the steaming bathing pool. - -Later, returned to the sick bay, in making an incision with a penknife -to inject into one of the boy's lesser veins a solution of salt, the -knife slipped beneath the matador's grasp and cut his own hand. He gave -the cut no attention. He did not even bother to bind it up. Coming out -into the open, to lift the lower floodgate which would allow the -infected water to sluice out, he plunged the wounded member full into -the hot pool. - -He was surprised but no whit frightened when, an hour later, a painful -throbbing began to chase up and down his arm from that open gash in his -hand. He attempted quickly to close the cut by packing it with a little -salt. Then, shrugging his shoulders with incomprehension, fearlessly he -sought to forget about it. He busied himself doling out to his many -querulous patients copious doses of aperient and astringent medicines. - -By nightfall, he was stretched in the hospital, prostrated from the -plague. The change in him was at once inconceivable and appalling. The -man that in the morning had been so strong with firmness of spirit, -fortitude of soul, and a large enveloping tenderness of heart, was now -cramped with griping, unendurable pangs and as weak of pulse, voice, and -body as an old, old man. - -From having served so many sick, Morales knew what he needed. He called -for a mild opiate. - -Jacques Ferou approached the end of the platform. Save for two -convalescing serranos with matted hair and irregular features who were -now acting, perforce, as nurses, Ferou was the only able-bodied man in -the hospital. - -The Frenchman watched the sufferings of the matador with small, bright -slaty eyes. The trick of the eyelids, drooping at the outer corners, -lent him a calculating sinister aspect. He curled one spike of his -straw-colored mustache. - -"I will give you the opiate, monsenor, but you must pay for it! You must -pay five hundred pesetas!" - -Morales attempted to sit up. But he could not sit up. - -"Wounds of Christ!" he gasped in a husky whisper. "What is this--a fancy -or some mistake of my ears? Has the disease touched my brain? Tell me, -tell me, Senor Ferou!" he almost supplicated. - -"It is neither the mistake nor the fancy," returned the Frenchman in -coldly even tones. "It is merely that you are a rich man, Monsenor -Morales, and that you can afford to pay. These others are only hungry -serranos and underpaid bullfighters. Even Quesada there, with his -feverish imaginings, is but a poor hounded thief. He has no money." - -As if he were about to smile at some choice recollection, the nostrils -of his high predatory nose twitched, the hard grim lines about his mouth -momentarily widened and deepened. But he did not smile. In a voice that -sounded to the matador like pulsing chill points of steel, he went on: - -"But you, Monsenor Morales; you withdrew a large sum by wire from the -Bank of Spain. It was when we first started on this little expedition, -and it was so much money we were indeed astounded. Dicenta, the Jewish -cacique of Alcazar de San Juan, cashed that order for you in many peseta -bills. Most of those bills you still have on your person. I could take -them away from you with a little force; but I prefer to give you their -value in narcotics, medicines, and soups. Sacre, monsenor, life must be -worth more to you than any money, eh?" - -The black eyes of the matador, deep-sunken from the quick ravages of the -disease, blazed up at Ferou as if they would sear and brand his ashy -face. Slowly as he looked, clamping his strong white teeth together with -the effort, Morales straightened out his contracted right arm and felt, -beneath the blanket, for the revolver at his waist. - -An astounded look that changed in a rush to one of stupefied dismay -staggered his eyes. The revolver was gone! There was not even sheathed -knife or belt! - -Ferou watched the matador's eyes, his lids continuing to droop with -pitiless analytical scrutiny. Significantly he tapped the heavy -revolver that hung at his own belt. And he laughed, a thin chill laugh. - -"You forget, monsenor. I am the only man armed in the barrio. It was at -my suggestion that Senor Carson went about disarming the serranos. It -was at my whisper, when your cuadrilla hesitated to shed their weapons, -that you angrily threw off your own belt and gun. I have hidden them -all!" - -He threw up his sharp cinder-hued face in an accession of pride. Just -as, on the Seville-to-Madrid, he had acted with Felicidad, so now he -seemed to swell with pride, to grow and strut with importance, as he -bared thus his real repulsive self to Morales. - -"Monsenor," he exclaimed, "you do not know me; but the French police -have long dreaded me as an adept and fearsome criminal. I am a White -Wolf of Paris. I use my brain. I do not conceive and carry forward a -plan in the one breath. I lay strings long in advance, and then, when -the time is fit and proper, parbleu! I jerk. - -"Ah, you understand, I see! It is thus now. I am ruler here. I am the -only man armed in the village. What I say--" - -Came an abrupt and alarming interruption from down the slant of the -platform. Quesada sat rigidly up. His forehead pouring sweat, his eyes -stark in his head, his hands clutching his chest, in a frightful voice -he cried out: - -"No, no! I never did it. Kill me if you will, but by the Life, you must -believe me! It was some other man ... some other man!..." - -His voice fainted away. With the exertion of shouting, with the fear of -his grisly fancies, his face darkened with congested blood. Completely -exhausted, he fell back upon the platform. - -It was as if the interruption had come to strengthen the argument of -Jacques Ferou. Overwhelmingly thereat Morales saw how powerless he was. -Quesada was out of his mind; John Fremont Carson was on the rack of the -plague; even the peones of his cuadrilla, who obedient to his command -might have aided him, were stretched out on either hand, sick and -helpless. The matador was completely at the mercy of the Frenchman. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX - - -One of the uncouth serranos bent over Quesada. To mitigate the fever, he -poured some concoction down his burning throat. - -Morales' tossing head came to an abrupt stop on the pillow. A sudden -hope bourgeoned in his distracted eyes. He was like a man falling down a -cliffside, clutching madly at an adnascent shrub. His eyes glowed from -their deep sockets like pulsing coals. Here was help in his hour of -need. His eyes seemed fairly to devour the serrano. - -Ferou, watching all, bent sharply toward him. - -"But you forgot again, monsenor!" he whispered. "You have burned their -dead! You have transgressed the teachings of their religion, walked -roughshod over all their superstitious dreads. They are my men, heart -and soul! - -"Ah, Morales, I have told you, I lay the strings of my plots long in -advance! It was I who gathered these serranos and egged them on at that -rebellion on the rock. I have whispered to them in the long nights. They -believe all your sanitary methods are tricks of the devil which have -aided, rather than lessened the ravages of the plague. The fact that the -cholera has stricken you and Quesada and Carson is to them as a sign -from on high. With the death of you three, they look for the lifting of -the scourge. Sooner than aid your recovery, they would poison you!" - -A fit of retching, sudden and violent, seized Morales. Ferou moved away. -When Morales recovered from the griping vice of the fit, the Frenchman -was proffering a cup of some darkish mixture to the convalescing -banderillero on the matador's left hand. - -"Here, Alfonso Robledo," he said quite loudly. "Drink this narcotic, and -you will sleep like a babe. It is only fine old brandy with a pinch of -opium." - -It was just the mild form of opiate Morales craved. Ferou looked over at -the matador with the words. He was tormenting Morales with the -afflictions of a Tantalus. He went down the lane between the platforms, -most solicitously dosing each sufferer in turn. - -Behind the Frenchman's back, surreptitiously, the banderillero Alfonso -Robledo proffered his opiate to Morales. Morales shook his head. - -"I thank you a thousand times, my son," he said in a feeble husky -whisper; "but it is not right that I should rob you of that which your -debilitated system needs. We are both sick men." - -"But I am recovering, growing stronger hourly. Maestro, you have just -slapped down!" The banderillero became quietly yet earnestly -impassioned. "Ah, it breaks my heart to see my brave espada so weak! I -want to help. Should you die through sacrifice to me, I will not care to -live! I am only a peon of your cuadrilla; you are the great matador. My -loss will not be felt! Take it, take it, please, Don Manuel of my soul!" - -Morales hesitated. But only for a trice. - -"No," he decided with heroic stubbornness. "This Frenchman can't have -so black a heart. Seguramente, no! He is but teasing me to test my -caliber. If I must, rather than rob you, Alfonso, I shall pay the hawk!" - -"Eh?" broke in the thin nasal voice of Ferou. Unaware, he had returned -and overheard Morales' words. "And you have changed your mind, Don -Manuel? You are willing to pay? That is good! Now let me see; what was -it you wanted?" - -"I think your joke a little cruel, Senor Ferou. I would have you give me -a mild opiate." - -"Ah, yes; brandy and an opium pill. That will cost you now just one -thousand pesetas! This wait, which you think such a cruel joke, Monsenor -Morales, has cost you precisely five hundred pesetas more!" - -The man was altogether inhuman. - -"You hawk, you vulture of the slime, you blood-leech!" execrated Morales -in a furious voice that shook through his lungs like a hoarse wind. "I -shall rot in hell before ever I put one centesimo into your filthy -claws!" - -The Frenchman shrugged his shoulders. His face was stiff and livid with -restrained bile. - -"I leave you now, Don Manuel," he said with acid politeness, "to visit -that other Eldorado, Senor Carson. Perhaps mon Americain won't think so -much of his peseta bills. And who knows? Perhaps the great espada will -also change his mind by the time I return!" - -At the door, he turned and called out bitingly to the two sullen -serranos: - -"You will see, mis paisanos, that Monsenor Morales, who burned your -dead, will want for everything and get nothing! When he changes his -mind, one of you may come for me!" - -He smiled toward Morales his peculiar aggravating smile; then, twisting -the spikes of his straw mustache, swaggered out the doorway. - -There was a soft thud up near the altar at the end of one platform. The -mountain boy, Gabriel, had rolled off upon the ground. On discolored -hands and knees quaking from the disease, he came creeping with stealthy -quietude and laborious feebleness down the passageway. Half-tilted -between rigid teeth, he held a tin cup containing a preparation in wine -of powdered aromatic chalk. - -He had achieved half the length of the runway when, on the sudden, one -of the serranos discovered him. The fellow roughly swung the boy up -under one arm. The contents of the tin cup was spilled. The boy began a -frenzied squirming and kicking. In a tumult of febrile revolt and -piteous pleading, he wailed: - -"Let me go, let me go to him--to Don Manuel of my heart! He is good, he -is brave, he is like the very God Himself! He is sick only because he -helped me and the knife slipped! Ah, Diego Lerida, I have known you -since I was born. Won't you let me go, won't you let me give him -something to ease the pain? He did the same for the wife of you, ere the -good Dios called her. Only a little chalk, Tio Diego, only a little -chalk and wine. - -"No? You won't let me go! Then may Satanas claim you for a gnat of a -dunghill--you and all your vile spawn! And may the Christ and His -Compassionate Mother bring hope and health to my own brave espada--" - -Came a hoarse shout from Morales: "Hola, my brave little golden one! I -drink to you, Gabriellito!" - -And accepting the lesser of the two sacrifices, Morales lifted from -between the banderillero and himself the cup containing the partly -finished brandy, and quaffed it down in one great draught. - -He was none too soon. With an oath of commingled surprise, anger and -dismay, the second serrano leaped forward and lunged at the matador. He -only succeeded in knocking the empty cup from Morales' hand. - -Save then for the feverish Quesada and those who slept under the -influence of narcotics or the cold pall of death, the whole sick bay -chortled with nightmare hoarseness at the frustrated and suddenly -apprehensive serranos. - -The hours snailed by. While Manuel Morales tossed and mumbled in painful -slumber, the mountain boy watched him steadily from down the lane of -blanketed figures. There was in his unblinking, deep-socketed eyes that -highest emotion one can exercise toward another human being. Morales had -called him his dorado, his brave little golden one! In his eyes was a -reverence that amounted to venerating love, wistful adoration! - - - - -CHAPTER XXX - - -It was a strangely assorted trio. Over the lip of the great rock on the -brink of the village of Minas de la Sierra extended the athletic -shoulders and sharp ashy face of Jacques Ferou, lying flat on his -stomach. Below in the gorge at the foot of the corkscrew goat path, -straining their necks backward and looking up, were the two Guardias -Civiles, Pascual Montara and Sergeant Esteban Alvarado. All three were -deeply absorbed in a distance-spanning conversation. - -"That Americain lied!" the Frenchman was shouting down with heated -earnestness. "Jacinto Quesada is himself in this village. He has been -sick with the great illness and with a mad fever, too; but this morning -his head is once more his own, and he is repairing rapidly in strength. -He is here, I tell you!" - -"Muy bueno!" shouted back the old sergeant with glad resolution. "We -will come up for him immediately!" - -"Non, non, mi sargento! There is the pestilence to fear, and there is -also my revolver which barks no, no!" - -"What would you, then?" asked sullenly that apelike one, Montara. - -Now, so thoroughly were the trio engrossed in the matter of words, that -their minds were completely monopolized and all other perceptions were -excluded from their senses. They did not hear the clatter of a horse's -hoofs approaching up the gorge. When that clatter abruptly ceased, their -unheeding ears received no sensation of change or difference. - -They did not know that, five yards behind the policeman, concealed from -above by the leafy branches of pines and alders and from the guardsmen -ahead by a thick underwood of tall buckthorn and entangled genista, a -horseman had halted and now, leaning his two hands upon the pommel of -the saddle, was observing them attentively. - -He was quite a rememberable-looking man. His hair was white; his skin -from exposure to wind and weather was a deep swarth; and his eyes were -gray. Not many Spaniards have gray eyes. The eyes of Don Jaime de -Torreblanca y Moncada were a clear, cold, agate-gray. All in all, there -was about his appearance, especially the long aquiline nose, the stony -eyes and pointed white beard, something which seemed to hearken back to -the days of ruffs and ready swords--the days of the terrible Spanish -infantry, the Armada, the Bigotes, the "Bearded Men," the -Conquistadores. - -He strained his eyes through the greeny plait above him. Suddenly, as he -glimpsed the man sprawled on the great rock, his narrow face blanched as -if gutted of blood; a look of savage ferocity leaped into his eyes; and -his hand strayed back to the heavy horse pistol slung from the saddle. - -But abruptly his reaching hand stopped. A few random words of the trio's -conversation had impinged upon his ears and aroused his curiosity. - -"There is something foul going forward here!" he breathed vehemently. "I -shall listen. Of what use to snap off the snake's head, now and -impetuously? Let him bare his fangs. With cold patience, even as the -Christ waits for his Judgment Day, I will wait for my moment of -vengeance on this creature!" - -Don Jaime was a grandee of Spain, one entitled to wear his hat in the -presence of his monarch. Well now, as he applied his ear to the -conversation, his stony eyes filled with a profundity of contempt that -none but a grandee could plumb. Carajo! this was no ordinary -conversation he was overhearing. It was the bartering for money of the -living body of a man! - -Shouted down Ferou, repeating the last question of Montara: - -"What would I, what would I have you do? Oh, a very little, monsenores -policemen--I would merely have you attend to the simple matter of my -reward. I will do all the rest. For the reward, I will deliver Quesada -up to you--I will deliver him walking upon his own two legs, so you will -not have to touch his infectious clothes. It is good, what? And you will -give me the reward of ten thousand pesetas, eh?" - -"When you have done all that you say you will do," returned the old -sergeant, sternly noncommittal, "then, and not before, shall you have -earned the ten thousand pesetas. But you need have no fears for the -money! When I shoot down this sacrilegious swollen toad of a Quesada, I -shall make my report to headquarters at Getafe. Your name--" - -"It is Jacques Ferou." - -"I will remember, Senor Don Jacques Ferou. You shall be given all due -credit. In two weeks' time from the day you deliver Jacinto Quesada to -us, you can collect the reward by presenting yourself at Getafe. Most -certainly, Spain shall consider herself the best off in the bargain!" - -"Tres bien!" exclaimed the Frenchman, lapsing with emotion into his -native tongue; then recovering: "It is good. I agree." - -"When may we expect you with the heretical dog?" asked Montara. - -"To-morrow at noon. When this great rock is hot with midday glare, I -will force him out here, my gun nuzzling his back. You policemen can -shoot him from below." - -Vigorously the old sergeant nodded his polished tricorn hat. - -"Muy bueno!" he approved heartily. Then in adieu: "Go thou thy way with -God!" - -"Always at the feet of the Guardia Civil who keep the peace of Spain," -ended the man on the rock, after the fashion of Spanish courtesy. He -withdrew from view, thereupon, much as a turtle's head withdraws from -view between its carapax and plastron shells. - -Don Jaime crashed his rawboned old horse through the tall buckthorn and -entangled genista. - -"Alto a la Guardia Civil!" thundered Montara, springing back and jerking -his carbine to his shoulder. - -"Down, you apelike one!" commanded the aged sergeant. "Can't you see? It -is the hidalgo doctor, Don Jaime de Torreblanca y Moncada!" And he swept -his tricorn hat off his close-clipped white head. - -Don Jaime reined in his horse to a quick stop. He disdained altogether -the mortified Montara. He looked down at the bared white head, the -knife-sharp white beard, and the lean and haughty face of the aged -sergeant. - -It was, then, as if he looked down upon a singular edition of himself. -Don Jaime was a grandee by birth and breeding, and these things amount -in Spain; but the old sergeant was no less grand with adamantine -adhesion to principle, with eagle-sternness and eagle-haughtiness. They -eyed each other with mutual recognition and respect. They were both of -the same old Spanish imperial school, unforgiving of injury, inexorable -to avenge. - -Said the doctor, "Peace be to you, mi sargento." - -"And to you peace, Don Jaime of my soul." - -"But what is this scheme I hear you hatching?" - -"It is a way we have of keeping the peace of Spain." - -"Cannot you drag down the Wolf-Cub without the aid of this blood-hound, -Ferou?" - -"We of the Guardia Civil are not podencos that can drag down the Wolf in -the open. Senor Don Dios! we have tried and each time failed!" - -"But the man Ferou is a human leech! Oh, I overheard your secret talk. I -tell you, the Frenchman sucks life-blood for money!" - -"It is thief catch thief, Don Jaime. The Wolf-Cub, Quesada, is a cancer -in the side of Spain. And Spain must be healed. We will loose the leech -to suck this evil cancer from the side of Spain!" - -"You are hatching a snake's egg, mi gran caballero. The fruit of it -shall stink in the nostrils of all brave Moors! You may take your oath -on that, Don Esteban! I for one will be no party to it!" - -"No lo quiera Dios! God forbid, proud Torreblanca y Moncada, that we of -the police should expect your aid! You have a higher call. Up in Minas -de la Sierra, there is wailing and much sickness--ah, so many men have -slapped under and died, and so many more suffer in earthly purgatory!" - -"Sea como Dios quiera!" muttered Don Jaime. "God's will be done!" - -The sergeant looked up at him, old eyes alive with strange fervor. - -"They say of you, Don Jaime--si, and of me, too!--that we have granite -boulders for hearts. But I know. Arrogante Torreblanca y Moncada is very -tender with the sick. He has hands of gold for calling one back to life -and for closing softly the lids of the dying. Vaya, mi gran hidalgo -doctor! Go thou in the companionship of the sublime Christ and Mary, the -All Compassionate!" - -He stepped to one side. Don Jaime bade him a courteous adieu. Then, with -all the hauteur of one riding an Arabian barb, sitting rigid in the -saddle, the senor doctor loped his rawboned old nag up the winding goat -path toward the barrio. - -The policeman looked after him. Pascual Montara chewed fiercely the -ends of his black mustache. He muttered: - -"To-morrow at noon. When that great rock is hot with midday glare, this -hombre Jacques Ferou will force the Sacrilegious One out upon the -brink." - -"Carajo, yes!" grimly agreed the old sergeant. "And we of the Guardia -Civil will shoot him from below!" - - - - -CHAPTER XXXI - - -A man wasted from disease sat, all this while, in the morning sunlight -on a chair tilted back against one whitewashed wall of the village -chapel. His young haggard face was screwed up, and he frowned through -Moorish amber eyes toward where, some distance below, the Frenchman -sprawled on the great rock at the brink of the village. He could not -account for the unseemly posture and gesticulating hands and head of the -Frenchman. - -No word of Ferou's bartering reached him. He lacked even one clue to the -strange and absorbing business going forward. He did not know that the -waiting members of the Guardia Civil had advanced up the gorge and now, -out of sight, down at the foot of the goat path, were making -cold-blooded arrangement with the Frenchman for the delivery of his own -living body! - -Quesada lacked the strength which would urge him boldly to investigate. -And he was too weak to concentrate his mind, for any length of time, on -an apparently unsolvable problem. He shrugged aside his perplexity, -after a little, and sunk back into that trick of strategic plotting so -natural to the feeble in body but strong in spirit. - -Twisting his head about, he looked through the doorway into the -hospital. Within, in that fetid moaning place where lay the sick -Morales, there were no attending serranos; they had finished their -rounds for the nonce. Below on the great rock, the engrossing and -unaccountable business had every appearance of engaging Ferou for some -time. The way was clear. - -Quesada thumped down his tilted chair and walked on weakly rickety legs -to where, near the cork-oak tree in the center of the uneven street, a -number of the villagers were brewing a puchero in a great iron pot. - -"Come, mis paisanos!" he said in a voice surprisingly commanding for one -so enervated from disease. "Ladle out to me a bowl of the stew." - -"We have no orders to refuse you, Don Jacinto," answered one of the men -obsequiously. "We only mind that Morales and the Americano should get -none." - -The bandolero snorted, but held his peace. He took the steaming earthen -bowl proffered him; then quaking like one palsied, exerting a deal of -effort so as not to spill a drop of the precious haricot, he slowly -retraced his steps toward the sick bay. - -Here he glanced back over one shoulder. The serranos had returned to the -business of stirring the puchero; they were not watching him. In he -staggered, through the chapel doorway, to share the soup of the stew -with the sick matador, Manuel Morales. - -Minutes clicked by--a good ten minutes. - -Within the cabana where Carson convalesced, Felicidad was sitting in a -chair at the American's bedside, her golden head nodding with -drowsiness, when the _blut_ of approaching feet on the earthen floor -startled her into alertness. She saw the slim gray-suited form of the -Frenchman darkening the doorway. Her blue eyes widened and filled with -apprehension and deep abhorrence. She shuddered involuntarily and shrunk -back in the chair. - -But Ferou only bowed in mock respect. - -"Senor Carson," he addressed the American, "my serranos are stewing, out -in the street, a fine savory ragout of meat and lentils. Would you care -for some of the soup? It would be very strength-giving." - -Carson, his angular hollow-cheeked face white as the pillow pressed -about it, made no answering movement of head or mouth. With eyes -deep-sunken and chilly blue as high mountain lakes, he looked up at the -Frenchman unblinkingly. - -"It will be very simple, monsenor," continued Ferou suavely, the hard -lines deepening about his mouth in a grim smile. "All you have to do is -to give me one of your five-thousand peseta bills! Since yesterday, the -price of lentils and meat has soared on these mountains. But to you who -are so rich, that is no importa. Only five thousand pesetas for a bowl -of soup!" - -All at once, like an unexpectedly loosed avalanche, the girl was on her -feet, her blue eyes coldly ablaze like points of steel. - -"You--you thief! You know he has left only one bill of five thousand -pesetas! You have taken all the others! Oh, you rapacious hawk, you -vile, vile vulture!" she cried out, shuddering with horrid remembrance -and a sudden increase of detestation. "You would rob him of his all, -everything! You would have him end his days in want and misery, just -like the pobre padre of me!" - -The Frenchman did not wither beneath her scorn. He shoved his sharp -blond head nearer her. And his face livid with stirred-up bile, his -slate-colored eyes narrowed to mere blazing slits, he bared his long -white teeth in a passionate carnivorous snarl of envenomed hate. - -"You baggage, you treacherous snake! I'll show you what! When I get done -my work in this barrio, you'll go with me. Mon Dieu, I'll show you how -an Apache Parisien treats one such as you!" - -The movement was unexpected. Sudden as the sweep of a hawk, he bent his -tall athletic body forward sharply and made a grab at her wrist! - -She recoiled from him. The nostrils of his high predatory nose twitching -and working, his whole ashy face working and grimacing with fury like a -horrible mask of rubber, he leaped after her. She sidled along the edge -of the bed. Trembling in every limb like a terrorized doe, she retreated -out the doorway. - -Bent sharply forward, bounding from spot to spot like a leopard, the -Frenchman followed. - -The American attempted to lift his head from the pillow. He fell back -like a load of lead. He worked his hands together and groaned aloud at -his helplessness. - -Came a sudden clatter of horse's hoofs out in the village; then the loud -shaking voice of a man: - -"Alto! Halt, you nameless wench! You have soiled my honor, profaned my -name, defiled my blood! Heart of God, you must die!" - -It was not the voice of the Frenchman. It was the voice of Don Jaime de -Torreblanca y Moncada. The terrible doctor had come! - -Sitting stark upright upon his horse on the great rock at the brink of -the village, his narrow face a cinder-gray, Don Jaime was leveling his -huge horse-pistol at the backing form of the golden-haired girl! - -"Ha!" exclaimed the Frenchman, his eyes lighting up like sunlight on -ice, his grimacing face wreathing into an outrageous smile. "It is the -haughty hidalgo come to wipe out his dishonor in the blood of ma chérie -Felicidad!" - -With a laugh that was worse than brutal, that was pitiless and fiendish -at such a time, he sprung back into the dark shelter of the doorway. - -The frail slip of a girl was left, unaided and alone, to face the -avenger. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXII - - -Attracted by the vibrant loud outcry of the terrible doctor, Jacinto -Quesada put down the earthen bowl of stew, left the bedside of the sick -Morales, and showed himself in the doorway of the hospital. With -weakness his rickety legs tottered under him; with weakness the world -reeled and swam before his eyes. He shaded his eyes with a pale and -unsteady hand and peered out into the cold sunlight. - -He understood the threat. Down at the end of the uneven street, on the -great rock at the brink of the village, bulked Calamity on horseback! - -Quesada clutched at the jamb of the door. Shaking like a tag of paper in -an ugly wind, for an intolerable moment he clung there. Then all at -once, in a blind broken-legged stagger, out into the street he lurched. - -With every leaden stride, he seemed to gather to his need what scattered -rags and tatters of strength he yet possessed. His legs straightened -under him somewhat; his heavy toppling shoulders came up. - -On the sudden, he slewed completely round. Back the way he had come, -back toward the sick bay, he pitched. - -But again and all on a sudden, he halted. He threw his arms aloft, he -lifted drawn face to the cold gray sky. Hoarsely he cried out: - -"Give me strength! Senor Don Dios, give me strength to do that which I -now must do!" - -On he sped back toward the hospital. And his feet pounded down and up, -down and up without infirmity, without numb and leaden shuffle. Gone -were the staggering lurch, the sagging shoulders, the rolling giddying -head. Gone utterly all the various stigmata of disease-engendered -weakness! - -He was like a man who, suddenly overwhelmed by an ocean of water, casts -off his clogging garments and strikes out nimbly and heartily. He was -altogether a new man, agile to move, galvanically energized. He was -mighty with an unwonted strength. - -It was not a body strength. It was a strength above body strength, a -strength beyond body strength. It was that strength secreted deep down -but seldom drawn upon, that strength which lifts some men up and steels -them to their endeavors in moments of prodigious stress. It was that -epic strength which makes of weaklings, cold-eyed and high-handed -heroes! - -Something must be done to thwart the granite will of the implacable Don -Jaime. There was need for a man. There was no time to lose. - -Quick as an ape, Quesada bounded through the hospital doorway. Down the -runway between the platforms and the dying men, he dashed. At the end of -the smelly place, near the dingy altar, he halted. There, on the slant -of the pine slabs, lay the disease-wasted form of little Gabriel, the -mountain boy. - -He bent over the pitifully sick child. Carefully, round and round the -puny little body, he swathed the tossed and crumpled blanket. Then up in -his two arms he lifted the blanketed boy and bore him back along the -runway, out the hospital door. - -The child rested his head like an infant in Quesada's neck; he raised to -the gaunt face of the bandolero, two dull and feebly wondering eyes. A -great pity smote Quesada. Convulsively his arms tightened about the boy. -He felt suddenly weak, almost unmanned. For the moment he could not -continue on. - -He put his mouth close to the cradled head of the boy. - -"Ah, forgive me, nino of my soul!" he whispered fervently. "I do not -desire to be brutal. I desire only to save our good Felicidad from cruel -death at her father's hands." - -Gabriel smuggled his arm about the bandolero's neck. It was a mute but -trustful answer. Quesada looked over one shoulder to call back through -the doorway: - -"Alfonso Robledo! You can walk. Lend a hand here, man! Follow me!" - -Then down the long uneven street he ran, the blanketed form of Gabriel -borne before him in his tight but tender arms. - -Everything was happening with breathless velocity, in a rush, in hardly -an appreciable flicker of time. - -As Quesada went by, from deep in the shadowy doorways of their cabanas, -the mountaineers of Minas de la Sierra peered forth at him. They were -like so many beady-eyed lizards in so many dark crevices. At the first -rustle of danger they had hid themselves. - -No sound came from the huts. But once Quesada had put them behind two by -two, there breathed up, from each cabana, an aghast whisper: - -"Ah, God in Heaven! There goes Jacinto Quesada, and our own little -Gabriel in the two brave arms of him! And Alfonso--Alfonso Robledo -tottering after! What would they? Turn the hidalgo doctor from his -terrible purpose? Ave Maria Purissima!" - -Where trivial anxieties talk and gesticulate, there great anxieties -stand dumb and make no sign. - -Thus with the two principals in the on-sweeping tragedy. Mute and -motionless as boulders of basalt, they stood transfixed against that -steely background of cold sky and glacial desolate mountains--the one -bulking high on horseback like some black-browed Destroying Angel, the -other petrified below him in the street, a pale flower of a girl. - -They did not hear the whispers from the cabanas, those whispers that -were like the murmurings which come with the inchoation of a great storm -or an earthquake. They did not see Quesada swinging fast down the -street, the blanketed form of Gabriel in his arms and the sick -bullfighter, swathed Indian-like in another blanket, lurching and -tottering behind him. They had ears and eyes only for the grim and -calamitous business at hand. - -Poor Felicidad! For a long unendurable interval, stupefied by the shock -of the hidalgo's sudden coming, she stood terrorized and iced with -dismay. Then the appalling desperation of her extremity struck home to -her. A violent tremor shook through her ivory and gold form, her -strength ebbed away, her knees gave under her, and she began to fall. - -But no! Out of her memory leaped like scalding vitriol the words with -which Don Jaime had greeted her. - -"Halt, you nameless wench!" - -And, from deep in her being, rushed forth to hearten and uphold her a -new, surprising reserve of strength and courage. With an unconscious but -fine little movement of hauteur, she drew herself erect. - -He had called her a nameless wench. Well, she would show this harsh -hidalgo there was blood and pride in her yet. She would show him she -knew how to die bravely, proudly--aye, in a manner wholly befitting a -Torreblanca y Moncada! - -The golden head, that was so rare in one Castilian, lifted up. Up she -gazed at the avenger out of fearless and scornful blue eyes. - -For a vehement moment, an emphatic quivering trice, over the long -glittering barrel of the horse-pistol, Don Jaime answered her gaze. - -Za, he knew the jade! She had soiled his honor, profaned his name, -defiled his blood! She had run off with a creature who had no more -decency than to rob the father of all his money, while he stole from him -also his only child! Name of God! how he despised her! - -Like was he, then, to that morose and vindictive Jehovah of the ancient -Jews. His hand tightened on the heavy butt. There was, in the cold -stillness, the sharp click of an old-fashioned pistol being cocked! - -Harshly the sound cracked against the ears of Jacinto Quesada. His -running body lurched forward in a desperate spurt. He stumbled against -the startled nag. He held up in his arms to the doctor the blanketed -form of Gabriel. And hoarsely he cried out: - -"God forbid, Don Jaime! Wait--for the love of Our Lady of Pity, wait! -You are a physician, and we are sick here. We are sick with the dread -cholera, sick unto death. Your first duty is to us. You must help us. We -need you, urgently, woefully--" - -Again everything was happening with breathless velocity, in a rush, in -hardly an appreciable flicker of time. Quesada's voice rose almost to a -scream: - -"Turn your eyes upon this dying boy, Torreblanca y Moncada! Look at the -glassy eyes, the deep eye pits! Look at the cheek bones bursting through -the paper-dry skin! Have pity on him, Don Jaime. Eleven years old, -innocent as a babe at the breast, and yet wrinkled and wan and all -crumpled in a heap like a disease-riddled old man! - -"Ah, Blood of Christ, Don Jaime, you are no Barbary savage to turn away -from the outreaching hands of a dying child! You are a priest of the -body, a servant of mankind! Your first duty is to this mortally sick -child, to all the mortally sick in this village. After that, if you -must, you may kill!" - -Quesada trembled violently with the ardor and hunger of his entreaty. -The dark-eyed, pasty-faced Gabriel shook in his uplifted arms like a -poor played-out doll of rags. An end of the blanket slipped from about -the boy's shoulder, dragged free from him, fell in a heap upon the rock. -Aloft to the doctor, Quesada held the little fellow stark naked in the -full light of day! - -Quesada fell to his knees, clawed frantically for the blanket. The child -lifted slow deep-sunken eyes to the stony eyes of the grandee, as if -dimly wondering what it was all about. - -Quesada raised one end of the blanket to enwrap the boy, then suddenly -hesitated. He had appealed to the honor of the physician. Well he knew -how dear was that professional honor to Don Jaime! - -Don Jaime was the sort of physician who looks upon his business of -serving the ailing as a sacred commission from on high. He was like one -who had taken Holy Orders with his doctor's degree. No Jesuit was more -slave to his oaths; no Jesuit worked with more zeal for God and the -Society than did Don Jaime for Humanity and Science. - -Quesada thought, now, to essay farther. With the little fellow standing -upon his own reedlike legs and clinging desperately to him, the -bandolero lifted his gaunt face to the granite face of the hidalgo. In a -low patient voice, he said: - -"Would you let this poor child endure all the agonies of purgatory and -wretchedly die, while you carry out your cruel scheme of vengeance? Look -at him, Don Jaime! Give heed to the legs that are like walking-sticks, -the poor thin wrists, the bony little neck, the body limp as a soaking -dish towel! - -"Have pity on him, Don Jaime--you who know what it is to suffer! The -Senor Don Dios has been far more cruel to him than ever He has been to -you! Not a month gone. He took the child's widowed mother from him; she -was one of the first to be claimed by the plague. Now the poor baby is -all alone in the world!" - -Quesada swathed the boy in the blanket. Cradling him tenderly in his -arms, he got quietly to his feet. He waited. - -Don Jaime hesitated. The horse-pistol shook violently in his hand. His -agate eyes softened. - -Then, all at once, an appalling change swept over Don Jaime. Deep in the -crypts and catacombs of his brain, old rankling memories stirred--old -painful and dolorous memories got up, and walked about, and paraded back -and forth in somber procession. He could have screamed, so tortured was -he that moment! - -Why should he, the grievously outraged one, show pity? Why should he -turn aside from his scheme of vengeance to succor this dying child, -these wretched people? Once before had he been robbed when he sought -revenge for a mortal wrong. This jade's mother had run off with a gypsy -picador. And though the hand of God had intervened in that elopement as -a sublime instrument of vengeance, always had he regretted, through the -dreary and bitter years, that his own hand had not slain the mother of -Felicidad. - -Not another time would he suffer himself to be turned aside. He was like -that awful Jehovah of the Jews! He would be revenged up to the hilt, -paid back in full! - -He tore his eyes from the piteous face of the boy Gabriel. He freshened -his grip on the horse-pistol, lifted it up. Slowly over the level of it -he eyed the waiting girl. - -Rose suddenly a shout from Quesada: - -"Take the boy away, Alfonso Robledo! He is only a peasant's sniveling -cub, a mountaineer's orphan brat! What cares the grandee of Spain for -our little Gabriel? Take him away; the hidalgo Don Jaime will have none -of him! Let him die!" - -Robledo tottered forward. He took the blanketed child in his arms. -Turning about, slowly back toward the hospital he made. - -Quesada lifted his haggard face. With a contempt biting and goading in -its virulence, he cried: - -"Proceed, proud Torreblanca y Moncada! You have your high knightly honor -to defend, your name and blood to purge! Shoot!" - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIII - - -Now it may have been because of the miraculous interposition of the -Espiritu Santo, or it may have been by reason of the sudden and brutal -exposure; but all at once, as he was borne away in the arms of Robledo, -the boy Gabriel took an abrupt turn for the worse--a cruel cramping fit -seized him in its formidable vise! - -Violent spasms shook and threw him about like a tossed beanbag; his -teeth clenched together with the paralysis of lockjaw; his legs and arms -knotted up and flung out again as if they would tear themselves apart -from his body. All in a trice, and ere Robledo could prevent, he writhed -out of the bullfighter's grasp and fell rolling and squirming upon the -ground, his fingers clawing at the yellow earth. - -Blind to everything else, screaming his fear and horror, Quesada leaped -toward him. But some one bulked before the bandolero, blocked his way, -dashed head-bent for the boy's side. - -That some one held in his hand an instrument of gleaming silver, -needle-sharp at one end. He dropped to his knees beside the pitifully -contorted Gabriel. He shoved the needle point into the boy's knotted arm -above the wrist; gave it a quick jab. That some one was the hidalgo -doctor, Don Jaime! - -Once the hypodermic injection acted on the spinal cord and the medulla -oblongata, the spasms would be checked, quieted, allayed. But there -must be a circulation of blood. Too slow, altogether too slow, was the -blood trickling through the lad's veins. He was sinking fast. - -With swift harsh hands, Don Jaime rubbed desperately the boy's arms, -legs and spine. But Gabriel's pulse was dying; rapidly his skin was -turning to a blue tinge; like dew chilling to frost, the surface of his -body was freezing icily. The injection of morphia failed to impact on -the nerve centers. It was without effect. - -On a sudden the little fellow kicked out, then lay rigid as one who -stiffens in the petrifying clutch of death. All the breath had fled his -nostrils. He was in the asphyxial stage of the cholera. - -Don Jaime, kneeling beside the collapsed form, tore with his harsh hands -at jaw and brow to force open the vised mouth. Between the boy's -clenching teeth, he wedged the blunt end of the silver syringe. Then he -strove to force air into the sunken empty lungs. He strove brusquely yet -carefully, as one strives over a drowning man. He lifted the reedlike -arms above the boy's head, then back to his sides and up again. - -He worked feverishly, he worked heroically. He reached for the black -leather box he had thrown behind him. The broken straps on that box -showed where it had been torn with sudden violence from the cantle of -his saddle. - -Quesada hastened to aid his groping hand. He picked up the box and held -it open. - -"Ammonia!" snapped the doctor. "Hold it to his nose!" - -Quesada withdrew from the box a labeled blue bottle. As Don Jaime worked -the puny arms up and down with a certain circumspect precision, Quesada -held the pungent salts beneath the slightly fluttering nostrils. - -"Build a fire! Heat water!" Don Jaime exploded, never ceasing his -labors. "Quick! We must give the boy a hot bath to circulate the blood -and save him from dying!" - -"We have a fire going night and day," returned Quesada. "We have only to -remove the heated stones to the bathing pool." - -"Where is it, this pool? Lead the way!" - -The haughty doctor leaped afoot. He had no thought but for the urgent -business at hand. He was a thrall to grim and importunate necessity. -Even as his personal honor was to him more precious than life, so was -his physician's honor a covenant with Jehovah, tyrannical and imperious -to command him. - -Quesada, flinging his rickety legs wide apart, went swaying and -floundering up the uneven street. Don Jaime followed after the -bandolero, the little Gabriel in his own hidalgo arms. - -The heat of the bath circulated the lad's blood. By slow degrees, he -drew out of the chill collapse. Don Jaime wrapped him snug in a blanket. -Once again, in his own hidalgo arms, the grandee doctor carried the boy -back to the sick bay. - -As he entered that fetid moaning place, a kind of shiver trembled -through Don Jaime. He made along the runway between the platforms of -tossing, groaning, and emaciated sick, his gray eyes darting from side -to side. At the upper end of the chapel, near the dingy altar, he laid -the boy down. - -What of the hot bath and resultant circulation of blood, the injection -of morphia was now at last achieving its purpose. No sooner had the poor -lad touched the pine slabs than he passed blissfully into the dwelling -place of sleep. - -Don Jaime looked down the two platforms of blanketed sick. Slowly and -gloomily he shook his white head. He turned to Quesada following doglike -after him. His narrow face was a cinder-gray. - -"You have spoken aright, son of a mangy she-wolf," he said. "I came nigh -to forgetting my duty. I am a priest of the body. My first duty is to -the suffering and dying here! After that--" - -He paused ominously. He looked about as if in search of something. Of a -sudden his roving eyes became focused, riveted; they flashed like -cressets of fire. Through the hospital doorway, out into the cold -sunlight he gazed. - -He saw Felicidad down the village street. From the spell of terror and -despair she was only then recovering. She glanced quickly about her. It -was as if she had been away on a long journey and was astounded now to -find everything as it had been before. She shuddered visibly like one -starting to life who had been dead for intolerable moments. - -Lip quivering but head held with a quiet proud demeanor, she turned -toward the cabana wherein the American lay. As she entered the low -doorway Jacques Ferou, lurking in the dark, sidled past her and out. - -The Frenchman's whole malignant soul was bunched and crouched in his -eyes. He threw after the golden form of the girl a look searing and -blasting. It was as if, now that the vengeance of the hidalgo had failed -him, he would kill the girl himself with that one glare from his slaty -eyes. - -Don Jaime's lips clicked together. Looking piercingly through the -doorway, his agate eyes lunged like sharp knives at the venomous -Frenchman and the white trembling girl. In a voice chill as a glacial -wind, he spoke. - -"After I have fulfilled here my duty to the sick," he said--"after that, -by the Life, I slay!" - -He would say no more. His lips tightened into a line thin and grim as if -chiseled in stone. - -He went down and up the line of platforms, dosing each sufferer in turn. -To some he gave stimulants and astringents; to those in the more severe -stages of the disease, he doled out opiates. - -He went from cabana to choza outside, bringing brandy and nutritive food -to the convalescing. He was leaving the choza of one villager when -Quesada, dogging his steps, plucked him by the sleeve. - -"You have seen, senor don hidalgo?" asked the bandolero. "The Frenchman -Ferou is up here, also." - -"I know," nodded Don Jaime austerely. "He is wherever trouble is. He is -the scum that gathers where things are filthy, an abomination to be -squashed under the heel! Za!" he ended, with profound loathing. "He is a -human leech!" - -Quickly then, as they approached the next cabana, he related with -characteristic frankness and bitter contempt, all he had seen and heard -that morning in the gorge at the foot of the goat path. - -Quesada showed little surprise. What could one expect from the French -vulture! - -But what did surprise him not a little was to find, upon putting his -hand inside his sheepskin zamarra, that the small mahogany-colored -leather purse of the doctor was no longer there. Carajo! what had become -of the purse and money of Don Jaime? - -"It is that Frenchman!" he quickly surmised. "Don Jaime, he has stolen -your money for a second time! I took the purse from him in that affair -of the Seville-to-Madrid; I was holding all those five thousand peseta -bills for you, my senor doctor; but while I was down sick and knew -nothing, the French ferret must have gone through my pockets!" - -Don Jaime only grunted. - -They entered the obscurity of the next cabana. Within, Felicidad was -sitting at the bedside of the convalescing American, explaining all that -had occurred. At their appearance, she abruptly quieted. - -Pointing to the American upon the leaf-stuffed couch, Quesada explained -in a few sketchy sentences just who Carson was and all he had done. Then -the bandolero told how Ferou had charged Carson for the medicines so -vital to his recovery and even for the bare necessities of life. - -"The Frenchman is a plunderer, an extortioner, Don Jaime. He charged -prices, exorbitant prices. He robbed this man of all his ready money. -Senor Don Dios, it was outrageous, detestable! There was no need of -prices; the man was down on his back, helpless, well-nigh dead; there -was no need of prices of any kind. But what could we do? In all the -barrio, Ferou was the only one armed." - -The hidalgo doctor lifted Carson's heavy hand to feel his pulse. He said -no word. He never once looked toward Felicidad who had arisen to her -feet and stepped to one side. - -Yet Quesada knew. In this expose of Ferou's execrable character, it was -plain by comparison that the Frenchman had artfully cajoled Felicidad -and then used her as a cat's-paw to pluck golden chestnuts out of the -fire. The girl had been duped and ensnared by the creature's wiles. Even -to the adamantine mind of the senor doctor, the blow and blot of his -daughter's conduct must inevitably pall before the odiousness of the -Frenchman's villainy. - -But again Don Jaime said no word. He only prescribed a certain diet for -Carson. Without so much as a softening glance toward the pale and -fearful girl, he marched out of the cabana, his boots clamping down in -firm measured strides. - -They returned to the hospital only to find Gabriel suffering, once more, -in the grip of the plague. To ease the poor lad's griping pangs and -still the heart-tearing cries for his dead mother, the senor doctor -dropped a few beads of chloroform down his throat. - -"Do not despair, my precious little man!" encouraged Morales, in a husky -voice, from his place down the platform. "Have a high fearless heart, -and the great Torreblanca will yet pull you through." - -With an utterness of gratitude at having won such inspiriting words -from the matador whom he so venerated, the boy thanked Morales with -black eyes that were smoldering great coals in their deep pits. - -Don Jaime turned to Quesada. Morales had tossed off the upper end of his -blanket and the hidalgo had suddenly noticed the gold-braided green -jacket about the matador's torso. With that characteristic frankness of -his which so often sounded brutal and coarse, he queried: - -"Who is this hombre in gold-tinsel and green that has such faith in the -ability and concoctions of Torreblanca y Moncada?" - -"Que, que!" exclaimed the bandolero, distinctly surprised. "What, what! -Does not the senor doctor know?" - -But the doctor did not even remember having seen the man in the -excitement of his first rounds. - -"That is Morales, the bravest espada in all the Spains!" - -"Morales? Manuel Morales, that great murderer of bulls, that supremely -dexterous one with the sword? And here!" - -Don Jaime went at once to the side of the wanly smiling matador. - -"My Manuel Morales," he said with earnestness, "all Spain mourns for its -lost pastime while you lie helpless here. We must quickly get you well. -But valgame Dios! no poor few remedies of mine will work the miracle -half so speedily as that own brave golden Moorish heart of you!" - -Interposed Quesada quietly: - -"Jacques Ferou robbed our Manuel, too. And you know the great Morales, -Don Jaime! He would rather starve than play the mouse to this hawk. Yet -he had to pay! - -"Ah, Torreblanca y Moncada," he added with rising vehemence, "this -hombre Ferou, is a human bloodsucker, as you say! He is a greedy, foul -buzzard!" - -Don Jaime snapped erect. A portentous gleam was in his stony eyes. - -"He robbed Manuel Morales, too!" he exclaimed. "That's enough; not -another word! We will give the creature short shrift! Carajo! I have a -plan." - -Quesada and Morales looked about to see that no henchman of Ferou had -chanced to overhear. The doctor understood their wary glances. He -lowered his voice. - -"All the short jump up the goat path," he said in even tones, "ever -since this morning when I heard the French ringworm's conversation in -the gorge, I have been formulating this plan. And it is a good plan; it -will attain many ends at the one time. It will blight the treacherous -plot of Ferou, save you from the Guardia Civil, Quesada, and in the same -breath win back for me my stolen money! Ah, it is almost divine in its -justice! Mediante Dios--God willing, I will use it as another instrument -of my vengeance!" - -Quesada gasped. - -"You mean to kill the French leech? But my senor doctor, in the whole -pueblo, Jacques Ferou is the only man armed! No lo quiera Dios, Don -Jaime! God forbid, yet I fear he will slay you first!" - -"I have a horse-pistol," said the physician with grave significance. -"Yet I do not mean to sully these hidalgo hands of mine by killing him -myself. Seguramente, no! He shall die, but from no bullet of mine!" - -He shook his white head slowly as if fixing something definite in his -mind. - -"To-morrow noon," he added imperiously. "To-morrow noon, he shall die!" - -It was the selfsame hour Ferou himself had bargained with the Guardias -Civiles for the killing of Quesada! - -Don Jaime would say no more. He was as arrogantly enigmatic as the very -God Himself! - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIV - - -Don Jaime worked that day. That night he slaved. About eventide Alfonso -Robledo, the banderillero who so bravely had seconded Quesada that -morning, suffered all at once a severe relapse. Perhaps it came from the -overheating excitement of that crucial time upon the rock; perhaps the -abrupt exposure in that intrepid try to avert Felicidad's cruel and -barbarous fate, had brought it on; at any rate and all on a sudden, his -weakened body began writhing in an agony of cramps. - -There was nothing else for it. The hidalgo doctor gave the bullfighter a -hypodermic injection of morphia. The paroxysms lessened, altogether -ceased. The eyelids of the banderillero rolled down heavily, and he -slumped into a deep stertorous sleep. - -That reawakened in Don Jaime the Fear. He made once more a round of the -hospital. He went from choza to cabana outside, seeking new cases. Where -a man could not sleep or a woman persisted in moaning, he administered -narcotics. - -When morning dawned through wisps of rain, the long night of taxing and -intolerable work showed plainly in the doctor. His narrow face looked -thin and long as a ferule; the cheek bones were high, the aquiline nose -never more imperious. What with all the coffee he had drunk like a good -Moor, to accelerate the action of his brain and steady the movement of -his hand, his skin seemed tinged to a deeper swarth. - -Quesada awoke early and with a renewed strength. He brewed for the -grandee another pot of fresh aromatic coffee. - -Don Jaime had gone down behind the cabanas to release his hobbled old -skate of a horse and lead him to water. When he returned, his huge -horse-pistol was strapped to his waist. - -He quaffed two cups of the coffee in quick succession. He stained, with -marked and aloof indifference, his usually immaculate white point of a -beard. Then, without a word, with feruled face determined and grim, he -returned into the hospital to his urgent ministry. - -It was coming noon. Quesada was sunning himself before the hospital, -according to his daily wont, when Ferou appeared around one mud wall -with the suddenness of a jack-in-the-box. - -In his right hand the Frenchman showed a revolver. He pointed the -revolver at Quesada. With a politeness that seemed more deadly than the -gleam of the gun, he said: - -"You will arise, Senor Don Jacinto. You will do all that which I tell -you to do. Aupa!" - -The chair, tilted against the mud wall, banged down upon its forlegs. -Quesada got to his feet. - -"March forward past me. Now stop. It is good, my brave bandolero. Now, -with me behind you, march toward that great rock on the brink of the -pueblo!" - -Everything was happening as the doctor had foretold. The tall Frenchman -nudged Quesada with the muzzle of the revolver in the small of his -back. They started on. And then, all at once, from the gloom of the -chapel behind them, came the galvanic voice of the hidalgo: - -"Alto! Drop that gun, you French leech!" - -Quesada did not dare turn round. But Ferou, his blond lids fluttering -with stupendous surprise, gave a quick glance back over his shoulder. He -saw the hidalgo doctor standing in the low doorway, the huge -horse-pistol leveled in one harsh fist, his eyes gleaming like quartz in -the sun. - -The Frenchman gave a precipitant leap to one side. He was quick as an -ape. He slewed round, his revolver lifted. - -An explosion burst from the pistol of the doctor. Ferou's revolver -dropped to the mud. He clutched his right wrist. It was trickling blood -from where a bullet had creased the flesh like a branding wire. - -"Quesada!" cracked the thin lips of Don Jaime. "Pick up that revolver. -You, Ferou, march in here!" He menaced the Frenchman with that huge gun -which was loaded and ready for more quick work. - -Quesada turned round, thereat, and lifted from the mud the Frenchman's -revolver. He shook off the clinging silt and pointed it at Ferou. His -ashy face working like a monkey's with abrupt and nervous apprehension, -the Frenchman marched into the hospital. - -Once inside, in the runway between the blanketed figures of plague -sufferers, Don Jaime snapped out a terse and inexplicable command. Ferou -thought himself the only one that understood its purpose. A shuddering -fit seized him. He knew that, in the receptacles beneath his armpits, -were concealed the small mahogany-colored leather purse he had taken -from Quesada and the peseta bills he had pitilessly mulcted out of -Carson and Morales. He thought that the doctor was searching for them. - -"Undress!" repeated the hidalgo. - -The Frenchman's slate-colored eyes fluttered about. He saw Quesada -threatening him with his own revolver. There was no help for it. With -fingers suddenly thick and clumsy with nervousness, he began to unbutton -his gray tweeds. - -"And you, too, Quesada!" ended the doctor. "Give the Frenchman's -revolver into the keeping of Morales, and undress, too!" - -Quesada did not at all understand. He saw Morales sitting up, as if -prepared to lend aid, a pillow bolstering his back. He passed the -Frenchman's revolver into the hands of the matador. Then bewildered but -blindly obedient, he began to doff his alpagartas, rough corduroys, and -sheepskin zamarra. - -The Frenchman stood forth in his nether garments, a tall, quaking and -almost ludicrous figure. He watched Quesada, a nameless fear sharpening -his slate-colored eyes. - -"Hand over the money, Senor Ferou," said Don Jaime with frosty -politeness; then explosively: "All of it! Pronto!" - -The eyes of the Frenchman flashed like the eyes of a ferocious animal -about to be robbed of its meat. But quickly he got himself in hand; the -baleful gleam dulled. He shot a questioning glance toward the disrobing -bandolero. Perhaps this thing he sensed and dreaded was only a grisly -figment of his imagination. Perhaps, after all, the doctor only wanted -the money. It were wise to obey. - -With an astonishing readiness, he produced, from the receptacles -cunningly prepared beneath his armpits, the purse of the doctor and the -bills belonging to Morales and Carson. - -Don Jaime did not wait to open the purse and inspect its contents. He -shoved the wallet into his pocket. He cast the roll of loose bills upon -the platform beside Morales. - -"They belong to you and the American. You can take what is due you and -return the others to Senor Carson. But hola! let the division go till -later!" - -He kicked the gray tweeds of Ferou over the hard-tamped earth floor -toward Quesada. - -"Put them on," he commanded bluntly. - -The bandolero nodded, though as yet he did not comprehend the whyfore of -it all. With dispatch, he commenced to garb himself in the tweeds of the -Frenchman which, despite the hard usage of the last few weeks, still -showed the ineradicable signs of good material. - -"You, Ferou!" the doctor bit out. "You don the clothes of Quesada!" - -The growing nameless fear in Ferou's brain bourgeoned, at that command, -into noisome bloom. His jaw slacked and began an incontrollable -quivering. His eyes glittered in a pasty sweating face. - -"Mais non, mais non!" he cried, lapsing in his extremity into his -native tongue. "Not that, monsieur! You cannot demand that! The clothes, -they are dirty, foul!" - -It was only the subterfuge of a time of dire peril. His eyes darted -wildly about. They sought Morales. Morales had been very tender with the -sick. Perhaps-- - -But Morales was leveling his own revolver at him with a hand only a -trifle less steady than that of the doctor. His face, parchment-dry and -sunken of flesh from the ravages of disease, was forbidding with grim -determination. - -"Put them on!" persisted Don Jaime. - -Solemnly then and very laboriously, with jaw still quivering and shaking -hands, Ferou dressed in the sheepskin zamarra, rough corduroys, and -alpagartas of the bandolero. Don Jaime himself clapped upon Ferou's -blond head the high-pointed hat of Quesada. - -"Now, march!" he exploded. "March toward that great rock on the brink of -the village!" - -All the Frenchman's dismal fears became quick and instant. He was sure -now! The nostrils of his predatory nose twitching and working, his whole -pasty face working and grimacing, with unrestrainable fear, like a -horrible mask of rubber, he groveled on his knees and held out his two -arms to the doctor in abject supplication. - -"Mercy, Don Jaime! Mon Dieu, you would not have me shot like a dog!" - -"March!" the hidalgo insisted. His voice rang with metallic timbre; his -gray eyes flashed as if they were bits of flint upon which steel had -struck. He shoved the muzzle of his pistol against the Frenchman's -chest. - -Ferou stumbled to his feet and backed out the doorway. The doctor -followed him step by step. Quesada, a great light coruscating in his -brain, recovered the revolver from the bedridden Morales and bounded out -in the wake of the two. - -Thus, the Frenchman retreating before the importunate muzzle of the -senor doctor's pistol, Quesada following after, they went down the muddy -street toward that great rock which glared, in the noontide sunlight, on -the brink of the village. - -Once the Frenchman paused. Imploringly, he lifted his still bleeding -right hand. - -"Monsenor!" he cried. "For the love of Christ, monsenor--" - -Came the sharp click of a pistol being cocked. Then, like a sharper echo -of it, the command of the doctor. - -"March!" - -A mad notion to turn and run for it seized Ferou. But no! They would -shoot him down ere he could take ten steps. They were too close. - -The police, on the other hand, would be far below, in the gorge. Maybe -their carbines would miss. There was always hope. - -He backed out upon the hot glaring rock. - -Came a yell from the hidalgo, sounding shrill and bodiless in the thin -air, and carrying back and far away in ringing echoes: - -"Hola, mis Guardias Civiles! Jacinto Quesada--he is here!" - -An answering shout spiraled up from the deeps of the gorge. Then, on -the heels of it, one long slithering shaft of sound. The crang of a -carbine! - -Ferou threw up his arms and, his face black with congested blood, half -spilled forward as if he had been struck by a blow between the -shoulders. He swayed back and forth on the balls of his feet, caught -himself, hung still for intolerable moments. Then, as is usually the -case with a man killed by a bullet, he tottered backward, slipped on the -crumbling lip of the rock and went over, clutching with white clawing -hands at the brink, twisting, turning, and shrieking--shrieking for -minutes afterward, shrieking hideously! - - - - -CHAPTER XXXV - - -Doctor Torreblanca Y Moncada strategically overcame the trouble -engendered by cremation. He had the serranos burn whole trees and from -the ashes, by percolation through water, produce a leaching of lye. -Then, a goodly distance from the water supply coursing through the old -Moorish flume, on the lip of the gorge where a void had been left by the -dismantling of the two infected cabanas, he had the men of the pueblo -dig a deep pit. Therein he purposed burying the dead in sheets of the -burning alkali. - -On the morning following that on which poetic justice had come to Ferou, -he approached Quesada, who was superintending the work of digging the -pit. Save for a certain wolfish gauntness, the bandolero was almost -himself. - -"Jacinto," he said, "do you feel hardy enough, my haggard one, to -journey down these hills to my casa near Granada?" - -The Moorish oblong eyes of the bandolero showed surprise and a shade of -fear. - -"I am easily strong enough by now, Don Jaime. But--" - -"Is it the police you fear? They rode away immediately after the killing -of Ferou." - -Quesada shook his head. - -"I am frank with you, my hidalgo doctor. Should I absent myself from the -barrio, I would fear for Felicidad of the gold hair and heart of fire!" - -With his cold gray eyes, the grandee looked at Quesada and through and -through him. As if mouthing some religious dogma, he returned haughtily: - -"You know, son of a mangy she-wolf, that no man can halt a Torreblanca y -Moncada once he says, I will! Ea pues! It is thus with my vengeance. The -ancient name of my house, the blood of my veins, must be cleared of all -tainture! Felicidad must die!" - -"God preserve you, Don Jaime! You are still the soul of granite, -unforgiving and unsparing even though your stolen money is all returned -to you now, and your daughter's disgrace altogether wiped out by the -death of the French poodle!" - -The hidalgo laughed harshly. He refused in his lordly pride to argue. -Cleverly he countered: - -"And you, Jacintito; you are still the Wolf-Cub, ever leaping to the -jade's defense as you did when you were only a bantling! - -"But it is not because I wish to be rid of you that I ask you to -journey," he went on. "You have reminded me that I am a priest of the -body. It is of my profession I speak. I need medicines. The supply is -nearly exhausted." - -"But I carted up such a lot, fully four canvas packs!" - -"I know. But mi gran espada Manuel and the Senor Carson, both -well-meaning but untutored, made extravagant inroads on the treasures -you brought. And hearing from old Tio Pedro that you had stocked -yourself so well, I rode extra light to make speed." - -"Yet things are going better now," objected Quesada. "There are fewer -deaths and more recoveries." - -"Thank God for that! But one can never tell. The present even tone of -the weather may suddenly change and cause the scourge to redouble its -havoc. I must not run short." - -"That is true," nodded Quesada. Yet it was evident that he still -hesitated to go for fear of leaving Felicidad unassisted and helpless -before the cold implacable wrath of her father. - -Said Don Jaime, commencing to offer inducements, plainly weakening -before the obstinacy of the bandolero: - -"If you will go, Jacinto, you may take my horse. No other has ridden him -in over ten years. He will carry you well, though only at a snail's -pace." - -Quesada realized what that offer meant. - -"I will take the horse," he agreed. "That horse of yours shall be as a -bond given in hand to me, Don Jaime, that you will remain here and stay -your vengeance until I return!" - -"My vengeance? Well, like the Judgment Day of Christ, that can wait!" - -"Is it a promise?" - -"It is a promise!" - -"Vaya, Don Jaime!" - -"Con Dios, Jacintito!" - -Garbed in the once elegant clothes of the dead Frenchman, even to his -slouch traveling hat, Quesada sat deep in the doctor's saddle and -carefully guided the old rawboned nag down the loops of the goat path. - -He kept a wary eye out for the policemen. The Guardias Civiles might -chance to be lingering on in the gorge. But the trampled space about the -alder tree was wholly deserted; the ashes from the breakfast fire of the -day before were being rapidly dissipated by the draughty wind. - -He pushed on down. Crackling over the fallen leaves in the gorges, -clattering along the stony hogbacks and ridges, he came, in the waning -afternoon, to the boulder-strewn pocket of the Christ of the Pass. And -suddenly from below, louder than the ring of his horse's hoofs, there -echoed up to him a sharp sound like the report of a pistol. - -Come of long outlawry, Quesada was circumspectly cautious. The report -might have exploded near at hand; the chances were that, with the odd -carrying knack of sounds high on mountains, it had echoed, clear and -distinct, from far away. But he would take no chances. - -The ragged prickly gorse and huge boulders, which bestrewed the pass -about the foot of the cross, furnished unusual hiding places. He -dismounted hastily, tied his horse behind a sumach bush and, behind a -tall boulder, hid himself. - -Twilight deepened quickly into full dark night. It was gruesome waiting -there beneath the pale white figure of the Saviour, with its crown of -black horsehair and red-painted wounds. Save for the wind sweeping -through the pass with little shrill noises, nothing stirred or sounded -in the long defile. - -After a little, Quesada conquered his vague apprehensions sufficiently -to sup upon the cold sausages, dry bread, and bota of wine which he had -had the forethought to sling to the cantle of his saddle. Then it was on -again, through the dark night and the savage uncouth pass, in haste to -accomplish his errand for the doctor. - -A piece of moon came up and shot long pale slithers of light down the -rock walls. Ahead, in the sudden wan light, he made out the bent and -bundled figure of an old, shawl-wrapped peasant woman. She was coming -toward him up the gorge. She seemed making little catching sounds, as if -softly weeping. - -"A Dios, mother," he greeted, as he rode past. - -She gave him neither answer nor notice. Her few wisps of white hair -streaming in disarray from under her flat worsted cap, she went by, -sobbing quietly, as if utterly oblivious of his presence. - -Quesada looked after her bent form and shook his head commiseratingly. - -"Ah, there has been some little domestic trouble in her cabana this -night!" he remarked to himself. "And she is going on, the poor creature, -to seek strength and consolation from the lonely Christ of the Pass. It -is the way they have in these desolate hills--Hola! What's the matter, -my bony Pegasus!" - -The nag beneath him, suddenly shying, had come to a dead stop, and now -was shivering in every limb. They had just rounded the bend which -portaled the pass. Leaping afoot in the stirrups, Quesada gazed over the -lifted frightened head of the horse. Ahead in the open road and -shapeless in the vague moonlight, he saw something lying still and -black! - -Ever wary of ambush, resultant from long outlawry, he sprung out of the -saddle and getting the horse by the bridle, shoved him violently back -into the shadow of the spur. For an intolerable fraction of time, he -peered round the bend and watched. - -The black shapeless huddle in the road never moved. Was it some animal, -sleeping or dead? He crept forward cautiously, Ferou's old revolver in -hand. He put out his fingers toward the vague outline of it. He touched -soft cloth, he touched a yielding mass. Wounds of Christ! it was the -body of a man! - -His hand jerked back in superstitious fear. The man did not move; he was -lying on his face. Quesada put out his hand again and touched the still -thing with a braver and more prying touch. All at once he turned it -over. - -Stark in the moonlight showed a short knife-sharp white beard, a -fine-chiseled imperious nose, and a swarthy face, lean and haughty as a -griffon vulture's! The revolver fell from his palsied hand. - -"Sangre de Cristo!" his dry lips fluttered. "It is Don Jaime himself!" - -But no! Don Jaime could not be here. Had he not left the hidalgo doctor, -that every morning, in the village above in the sierras? - -A grave calmness came upon him then, and a questing thoroughness. Who -was the man? Somehow his features seemed familiar. Was it only because -of that striking resemblance to Don Jaime? - -He noticed, all at once, that there was visible on the body, under the -powdering of dust from the road, a kind of red-edged blue jacket. On one -sleeve was a single red chevron, and to one side, almost hidden in the -dust, the shimmer of a patent leather hat. With a stifled gasp, -recognition leaped full-fledged into his brain. The man was Senor Don -Esteban Alvarado, the aged sergeant of the Guardia Civil! - -No more than a few weeks before, Quesada had seen the sergeant in the -gorge below Minas de la Sierra, dominant with life and lording it over -the apelike policeman Montara. To find the sergeant now only a still -black huddle in the road was a distinct shock to the bandolero. He knew -that just the day before either the sergeant or Montara had shot Ferou. - -Almost incredulous, Quesada felt the body for signs of life. But the -sergeant was dead. His body was not what one could call warm, yet -neither was it cold with that soft stickiness so instinctively repulsive -to the living touch. The sergeant had been killed only a short time -before. A caking of dust on the torso of his jacket showed where the -blood had oozed from a bullet wound in the chest, and quickly dried. - -"It was that shot I heard!" the bandolero surmised. "But who killed him? -And why?" - -Of the sudden, he remembered the old woman who had passed him in the -road, crying softly to herself. He bounded back around the bend. But in -the intervening jiffy of time, the shadows of the defile had swallowed -her from sight. - -"She is the sergeant's poor old wife," he said to himself. "She must -have come upon him, slain like a dog in the road. I knew Don Esteban, -his wife, and son lived in these hills. Now the poor old woman is gone -to pray before the Christ of the Pass for the eternal welfare of his -departed soul. May it rest in peace!" - -He came back to the black huddle, still profoundly puzzled as to whom -had done the killing. He turned the body over into that posture in which -he had found it. He retrieved his fallen revolver. - -He was about to mount and ride on, when abruptly he halted, one foot in -the stirrup. An enlightening but bitter thought had suddenly shocked his -brain. - -For a long time now, crimes had been committed which he never had a hand -in, but which in every case had been laid at his door. Automobiles had -been held up, toreros' chapels invaded, men robbed and even killed by a -young man described as Jacinto Quesada when, all the time, Quesada -himself had been quarantined in Minas de la Sierra. - -There was a sinister purpose, a foul plan underlying the criminal's -habit of masquerading and posing as Jacinto Quesada. Behind the -personality of Quesada, he was cloaking his own identity and committing -crimes without a suspicion pointing toward himself. What could be more -probable than that this same criminal had killed the old policeman? - -"It was that masquerader!" the bandolero exclaimed to the night. And he -swore: "By the Nails of Christ!" - -He circled by the prone body in the road, his horse nervous and -quivering with instinctive fright. He kicked the nag into a brisk -canter. He sought thus in action to quiet the thoughts which now were -bothering his brain. He pursued the descent. - -But the turgid thoughts would not be stifled. They fluttered in his head -like the pale moonbeams on the rock walls. They filled him with gloom as -profound as the shadow-haunted deeps of the narrow way. - -He, Jacinto Quesada, had discovered the corpse. Was that not strange, -portentous? It seemed to him now as if the hand of God were -foreshadowing, in this grisly discovery, some tragic misfortune about to -befall him. The masquerader had committed the crime of blood. Well, the -penalty for it would strike most surely upon Quesada's head! Of that, he -felt superstitiously certain! - -He made the sign of the horned hand in an attempt to avert the impending -evil. But no use. His mind would not still, nor would the misgivings -die. He reined in the nag. - -"There is but one thing for me to do," he announced to himself. "I must -return to the side of the corpse, and kneel and say a prayer for his -soul in purgatory. A mere word of requiescat is not enough. He was mine -enemy in life; I must show complete Christian forgiveness toward him, -now that he is dead. That alone will prevent a curse from falling upon -me!" - -He was kneeling in prayer beside the dead sergeant and had reached the -words: "May his soul, and all the souls of the faithful departed, -through the mercy of God, rest in peace," when, all at once from down -the road, his ears were assailed by a startling sound--the hoof beats of -approaching horses! - -Hastily he made the sign of the cross and got to his feet. Dragging his -horse by the bridle after him, he concealed both nag and himself -completely in the deep shadowy elbow of the spur. - -Came to him then, on the vagrant breaths of the night wind, the sound of -voices. They were men's voices, loud above the steady hoofbeats of the -horses, as if raised in some wordy contention: - -"But I tell you, Pascual Montara, the Wolf-Cub is not dead!" - -"And I tell you, mi capitan, Quesada is dead! Right now, were you not my -superior officer, I should be on my way down to Getafe to file Don -Esteban's report." - -"You say the sargento, Don Esteban, has returned to his home in these -mountains?" - -"Si; seguramente, si! His work is accomplished. After killing the -Wolf-Cub, Quesada, is he not entitled to a good rest? Test the truth of -my statement, el capitan; ask his son, young Miguel there, if his father -does not live in these hills." - -"It is most certainly true, mi Capitan Guevara," answered a new voice. -"I myself was born and raised in a portilla of the Picacho de la -Veleta." - -"Za, this is the wild-goose chase!" exclaimed the raucous voice of -Montara. "This is the wild-goose chase, I tell you--this chase after a -man already dead! Down in Getafe by now, ten thousand pesetas should be -awaiting the Frenchman as a reward for having brought about the killing -of Jacinto Quesada." - -"And that was when, you say?" - -"I have told you twenty times. It was but yesterday." - -"Then answer me this, apelike one! I have asked it of you a hundred -times before. How is it that the diligence from Granada to Montefrio was -held up only last night and the bandolero announced that he was Jacinto -Quesada himself? He fled into these hills, and we hot after him!" - -The men of the Guardia Civil usually ride in pairs; but this was a troop -of the Guardia Civil, an extraordinary troop. Peering around the spur, -Quesada made out eleven uniformed men riding smartly toward him through -the dim moonlight. - -One was, of course, that apelike policeman, Pascual Montara, whom -Quesada last had seen in the gorge below Minas de la Sierra with Don -Esteban. It appeared, from the tenor of the conversation, that Montara -had been on his way down to headquarters to file the sergeant's report -of Quesada's death when he had been met on the road by the troop and -turned back by the order of the captain. - -Quesada well knew this captain as one Luis Guevara. Eight others he -recognized as gendarmes with whom he had had an occasional brush. The -eleventh was the dead man's son, Miguel Alvarado, youthful, tall, -smoothly brown of face, and as subtle and gallant-looking in the vague -moonlight as a sword of Toledo. - -Now, such a large body of the Guardia Civil could be seldom seen on the -main-traveled highroads, let alone in the gorge-pierced sierras of the -Nevada. Something untoward was afoot. But it was not the mysterious -murder of the old sergeant which had called them together. Not one of -the approaching policemen had discovered as yet, close to the entrance -of the pass, that huddle lying still and black in the road. They did not -know Don Esteban was dead. - -They were riding after Jacinto Quesada, whom Montara believed he had -killed, for a crime that Jacinto Quesada himself was positive he never -had committed! - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVI - - -The party of policemen discovered, all at once, the body in the road. -Hastily, from their huddling, quivering horses, they dismounted. They -turned the body over. With amazement and deep consternation, they saw -that it was one of themselves, the haughty sergeant of police, Senor Don -Esteban Alvarado! - -Miguel, the dead man's son, stood over his father's body. - -"It is that Jacinto Quesada!" he said, terribly moved. "He has come upon -my poor old father alone in the road, and he has killed him without -ruth. By the Wounds of Christ!" he swore, lifting his right hand to -heaven--"I will seek out this murderer; I will hound him down; at last, -remorselessly, I will kill him! I have taken my oath." - -In the thick shadow of the bend, Jacinto Quesada smiled bitterly to -himself. Just as he had forecasted, just so had matters shaped -themselves. He was blamed for the crime of another! - -But the captain, Luis Guevara, was speaking: - -"This proves that Montara is mistaken--the Wolf-Cub is still alive! As -you say, mi pobre Miguel, without ruth he has killed your father, an -old, honored, and brave member of the police! - -"Carajo! Only once before, in the case of that traveling Englishman, has -Quesada killed a man. His conscience will be more disturbed by this -atrocity than by his usual crimes. Surely now, after this vile deed of -blood, will he seek out a priest and beg forgiveness of God! - -"Pronto, mis camaradas! Don Esteban has not been long dead. If we ride -to the nearest church, we may be in time to capture Quesada while he -makes his confession!" - -"But there are few men of the cloth in these hills, and fewer churches," -objected Miguel Alvarado. "I know; I was born in the portilla above this -pass. My old mother still lives there." - -"You do not think that Quesada is a heretic, despite his sacrilegious -abuse of the bullfighters' chapel of Seville!" - -Miguel shook his head. - -"No. I think that he will go, straightway, to the shrine of the Christ -of the Pass. It is but a little way on, in a lonely pocket of this -gorge. For miles around serranos, burdened by sins, kneel before the -shrine, and pray, and beg absolution or ease of mind." - -"Muy bueno!" said the captain. "We will go at once to this shrine and -wait there, in ambush, for Jacinto Quesada to come and confess his sin. -We will listen, and then we will kill him!" - -There was a creaking of leather as the men leaped into the saddles. -Quesada shrunk back into the dark elbow of the jutting bend. He pressed -the nervous horse in against the rock wall. To still any outcry he vised -his hand over the trembling nostrils of the animal. He waited, hardly -daring to breathe. - -The gendarmes, following the lead of the captain, filed into the pass -and looking straight ahead, unsuspecting the dark, went by him almost -within arm's length. - -He waited until they had all gone on, and the shadows of the pass had -engulfed them. Then he did not dodge around the bend and pursue the -decurrent way he had been going. He was seized with an unreasoning and -irresistible impulse to follow the troop and witness whatever might be -the outcome of their expedition to the shrine. Loosening but not -removing his hand from the horse's nostrils, he stalked a goodly -distance behind the party like a quiet long-legged shadow. - -As they neared the boulder-hedged pocket which sheltered the shrine, a -whisper sibilated through the ranks of the policemen. Some one was -kneeling before the cross! - -Noiselessly the gendarmes halted, dismounted, quickly hobbled their -horses with the long reins, and crept stealthily forward between the -boulders and the ragged prickly shrubbery. Quesada followed, a safe -distance behind. - -But it was only the old white-haired wife of Don Esteban who knelt -before the pale figure of the Christ, with its crown of black horsehair -and red-painted wounds. As he crept nearer, behind the police and -between the weeds and rocks, Quesada heard her voice. In quavering -tones, she was speaking aloud. She was confessing that she was the -murderer of her husband, Sergeant Esteban Alvarado! - -Thinking herself alone before the moon-white effigy of the crucified -Saviour, in an anguish of soul, she was pouring out the whole pitiful -story. For some time, she had been tortured by a harrowing secret. Her -son, the darling of her life, although a member of the Guardia Civil -like his father, was also a base poseur and highwayman! - -It was his infamous plan to doff the policeman's uniform and steal out -at night dressed to resemble the bandolero, Jacinto Quesada. Then, his -crimes consummated, he would put the uniform on again. That honored -uniform and the fact that all his crimes were laid, successfully and -invariably, at the door of Jacinto Quesada, kept suspicion from resting -upon him. - -It had smote her with desolation to discover that her son was a stealthy -outlaw. Since that long-ago time when her ancestors had been reclaimed -from brigandage and become Miquelets, no one in her family ever again -had turned criminal. They had all been policemen. - -Her husband, the haughty Don Esteban, was fiercely proud of the record -of his family of policemen. It had harassed her poor old soul, filled -her with overwhelming terror lest Don Esteban should discover the -perfidy of his only son. Pride of house and long years as an officer of -the Guardia Civil had made him unforgiving of crime, unsparing and -inexorable to mete out justice even to his own kith and kin. - -That afternoon, after a lengthy absence on police duty, Don Esteban had -come home for an interval of rest. He had just parted from Pascual -Montara, he said, who was to take his report down to Getafe. Between -them, the morning prior, they had killed the Wolf of the Sierras, -Jacinto Quesada! - -The old mother, aghast lest by mistake he had killed his own son -masquerading as Quesada, had thereupon, in distracted fear and wild -grief, blurted out the whole truth. - -The righteous indignation and awful rage of the old sergeant knew no -bounds. Solemnly he swore that he would have his son's life for this -outrageous conduct. She had pleaded with him, wept and prayed. But he -had cast her from him and gone out into the twilight to hound down the -son. - -She had followed him down the mountainside, insane with fear for the -life of her only child. He had discovered her and commanded her to go -back. But she crept after him, stifling her sobs. - -As he reached the road and the slice of moon came out in the sky, she -saw him take out a revolver and examine it to see that it was loaded and -ready for use. She heard, on top of this, the clatter of an approaching -horse. It was Quesada mounted on the doctor's nag. But she did not know. -She thought it was her son, her pobre Miguelito, returning home to pay -her a visit between duties! - -Carried beyond herself by the sudden crystallizing of all her fears, she -had dashed out upon her husband and struggled with him to wrest the -revolver from his hands. The stern sergeant had forgot himself then. He -went mad with a barbarous fury. He rained blows upon her old -tear-stained face. Even did he try to choke her. - -But her terror lent her strength superhuman. She clung to him, pulled -and wrenched at the revolver. She was like some tigress fighting for her -young. - -All at once, there was a sharp hideous explosion. Don Esteban slumped -like a burst balloon in her arms. He clutched his chest, made a gurgling -sound in his throat, slipped to the ground, rolled over, and was dead! - -Now, in a terrible turmoil of soul, she cast her gnarled workworn hands -out to that compassionating Figure on the Cross. - -"Dios hombre, what shall I do, what shall I do?" she cried. "I have -suffered in the last few hours all the torments of the damned, like a -soul lost a thousand years in purgatory! Oh, what shall I do? Lord and -Saviour, Pitiful One, I do not seek forgiveness. I want to repay, I want -to atone! I want to die myself!..." - -Her voice fainted away. She got to her feet at last. Muttering feverish -prayers, weeping like a soft rain, swaying and stumbling, she made up -the path. - -The policemen shivered out of their state of suspended animation. They -recovered their wits; their dead eyes glinted. Savagely, they turned to -look at the man among them who had caused the whole pitiful tragedy--the -son of the dead sergeant and the poor old heartbroken mother, the -masquerader and the traitor, Miguel Alvarado! - -He was gone. - -Seeking him, they dashed wildly among the boulders and bushes. They beat -the ragged gorse with their carbines. They called loudly one to -another. Suddenly, into the wan moonlight, stepped forth Jacinto -Quesada. - -"You seek Miguel Alvarado?" he asked. - -"Heart of God, yes!" - -"Then come with me." - -They did not recognize Quesada. Not only because of the pallor of the -moonlight, but more because he was garbed in the gray tweeds and foreign -slouch hat of the Frenchman. He led them down the path to where they had -hobbled their horses. - -Here, supine in the weeds and bound hand and foot, lay the policeman, -young Miguel. In the midst of his mother's pitiful confession, he had -crept back down the road and, just about to mount his horse and ride -away, had been captured by Quesada. - -"Oh, Paquita, maiden of my soul!" he was wailing. "I am undone--undone! -Your love has robbed me of my father, and broken the poor old heart of -the mamacita of me!" - -Quesada started visibly. - -"What is that!" he exclaimed. "You speak of Paquita, daughter of Pepe -Flammenca?" - -"I speak and dream of her always! I love her--God, yes! And she told me -she adored Jacinto Quesada because he was a bandolero; she told me she -despised my uniform. I thought to emulate Quesada and thus win her love. -But I have only caused the death of my old father and brought sorrow and -heartbreak to my poor old mother in her last years. Ah, Senor Don Jesu, -pity me!" - -But there was that in the glint of the eyes of the clustered policemen -which spelled death for Miguel Alvarado. He was a traitor to all the -ethics of the Guardia Civil. He had dishonored and defiled the uniform -they wore. He was a wolf in sheep's clothing. More; he was a shepherd -dog turned poacher, depredator, wolf! - -"He must die!" said the captain. - -"Seguramente, yes! And we all must bind ourselves to keep the matter -secret." - -The captain nodded grimly. "This is an affair of honor between us of the -Guardia Civil." He turned sharply upon Quesada. - -"Hombre, you are the only outsider. Will you swear to tell no one, to -lock all you have heard this night in your own breast?" - -Quesada evaded taking the oath of secrecy. Why should he, the Wolf of -the Sierras, make covenant with the podencos of the Guardia Civil? -Besides, a higher emotion stirred him. In his unknowable Spanish soul, -he was moved to pity for Miguel Alvarado. - -"Mi capitan," he said, "if you kill this man, you will do a wrong. He is -young; he has youth and true penitence to help him reform. It is a -terrible lesson he has received this night. He is the dupe of a woman, a -wench of the Gitano--" - -"A plague on the yellow witch!" muttered Montara. - -"Senores," Quesada appealed to them, "you cannot right what is now an -irreparable wrong, you cannot bring Don Esteban back to life. Would you -rob the poor old mother, then, of her only paltry happiness and hope? - -"Heed me, you of the Guardia Civil! This man has outraged Jacinto -Quesada more than he has you. Yet I know that if Jacinto Quesada were to -have this Alvarado's fate in his hands, to-night, he would let him go!" - -He had done what he could. He moved off to where he had tied his horse -to a bush. The policemen conversed together in low tones. As he mounted, -Captain Guevara exclaimed: - -"But who are you that you tell us all this?" - -He kicked his nag and started away. Through the moon-filtering dark, he -flung back, "Jacinto Quesada!" - -Ere they could recover from their stupefaction, he was only a clattering -noise in the night. - -He was circling, presently, by the dead body of the old sergeant in the -road. Of a sudden, a volley of rifle reports detonated between the rock -walls behind him. - -"That will be Miguel Alvarado," he said gloomily. He shook his head. -"Ah, Paquita!" he exclaimed to the night, "you have exacted a fearful -payment for my rash scorn of you--you have killed two men, this night, -and broken the heart of a poor old woman!" - -He rode thoughtfully on. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVII - - -Laden with medicinal supplies, Quesada returned to Minas de la Sierra. -He found the American walking about on his own two legs and able, at a -pinch, to lend a hand to the doctor. Morales, attenuated but rapidly -repairing in strength, occupied the bandolero's old chair tilted against -one mud wall of the sick bay. For long hours the matador thus sat in the -crisp sunlight and held a-straddle on his knees the slowly recovering, -oddly wrinkled little Gabriel. Like some sweet Sister of Mercy, -Felicidad moved solicitously among the convalescing serranos, two pale -roses of health constantly mantling her smooth ivory cheeks. - -The bane was lifting. A period of continuous mild warmth, free of -neblinas and snowstorms and icy blasts, had assisted and incalculably -sustained the efforts of the hidalgo doctor in driving the pestilence -from the pueblo. - -Ensued more days of sun sparkle, more nights clear as crystal, and the -hospital at last was empty. Announced Don Jaime thereupon: - -"The barrio must endure five more days of quarantine. We must make sure -the plague is snuffed out, buried. There must be no new cases." - -Two days passed. Then three. No man slapped under. They entered upon the -fourth. - -The scourge was being weighed in a hair-fine balance. It was a deciding -interval. It was a terrific time of waiting, and dread and hungry -longing that tried the blood and iron of every man. - -Quesada, shaking with the contagious apprehension, buttonholed the -American as he came out of the cabanas after completing some mission for -the doctor. - -"How goes it, Senor Carson?" - -"All right so far. But gad, it's tough! It wasn't so bad when they were -dying. These days when there are no stricken, and the sick bay is empty, -and each man watches the next in fear lest he should succumb--that's -maddening!" - -They talked jerkily. Quesada wanted to forget the trial of waiting, to -ease his mind of the down-bearing strain. To change the subject, he -said: - -"I have learned something. About the man who was sticking-up persons and -saying he was I, Jacinto Quesada. He was a member of the Guardia Civil -named Miguel Alvarado. Down by the shrine of Christ of the Pass, his own -kind, the Guardia Civil, shot him to death." - -The American understood. When Quesada first had returned to the village -poisoned with worry at what he had overheard from the policemen then -waiting in the gorge, he had told Carson the beginning of the story of -the masquerader. Now, at hearing its tragic end, Carson merely nodded. -All the while, as he listened, he eyed Don Jaime with fearful anxiety as -the physician moved in and out from choza to cabana. - -The racking strain--the long torture of work and travail of -waiting--showed plainly in the hidalgo doctor,--in the high cheek bones -almost bursting through the deep swarth skin, in the thinly chiseled -nose and the gray eyes that seemed crystallized to a hard quartz. He was -working arduously, Don Jaime--prodigiously, epically, like a true son of -Hispanus, that first Spaniard sprung from the loins of Hercules! - -Hardly daring to breathe, the barrio entered upon the fifth and occult -day. Twenty-four hours more of immunity from disease, and the tension -would be over, the iron clutch of the quarantine lifted. - -Night shut down, black, breathing, full of the nameless. Groups -collected. The suspense was on them like thumbscrews. - -Dawn came slowly, a leaden wash, Don Jaime went his final rounds. - -No man had stuck his toes toward heaven; in the night, no man had gone -under from the plague. The grip of the horror was broken! - -"Infected Minas de la Sierra is once again clean and whole," announced -Don Jaime. And he breathed fervently: "Thank God!" - -The final requiem had been said. The last to waste away and wear forever -the cold cerement of death was the banderillero, Alfonso Robledo, who so -ably had seconded Quesada in halting, for the while, Don Jaime's cruel -vengeance. That had been six days gone. - -The pale gold sun hung high in the heavens like an eucharistic wafer -emblematic of victory over disease and death. It was noon of that Day -Resurgent. Now that the slavish and heroic labor was over for Don Jaime, -the great good accomplished, he quietly got his horse prepared for the -return to his lizard-haunted, gloomy, and lonely casa outside Granada. - -Mounted and ready, he paused on the great rock at the brink of the -village to bid the thankful serranos a saturnine adieu. All the while, -unwaveringly, his gray quartz eyes remained fixed on the certain cabana -which had been given over to Felicidad. And then, as loudly the -villagers chorused their gratitude and well-wishes, that eventuated -which Don Jaime knew would surely eventuate. - -Her low white brow knuckled with perplexity, Felicidad appeared in the -doorway of the cabana. The hullaballoo had bewildered and attracted her. - -"Felicidad!" - -As if drawn and irresistibly compelled by the electric fluid of some -hypnotic influence, slow as in a trance, Felicidad moved toward the -avenger. Watching her, Don Jaime's thin-edged ferule of a face slowly -iced into rigid and pitiless lines. - -Yet, deep in his heart, the great passions that once had made Don Jaime -so formidable--those classic passions of ire and resentment--like hard -but friable rock had been slowly worn away. Too often, altogether too -often, had his wrathful hand been stayed. Time and his prodigious -struggle with the plague had combined to crush and crumble to bits the -fury in his rock-ribbed soul. - -No longer was he strong with faith in the righteousness of his cause. He -was only moved, now, by a determination to fulfill his solemn word, to -live up to the oath he had sworn. Pride alone possessed him. He was -being swept along toward a damnation of crime by the momentum of an -inexorable pride! - -He himself felt the weakness, the blight. In an open confession that -showed forth his inward doubt, in a heart-poignant appeal to Heaven -beseeching leniency for that awful thing he felt he now must do, he -cried out: - -"Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord; but the bleeding wounds of Christ -and the thorn-pierced heart of His Most Virgin Mother shall intercede -for my grievously sinning soul on the Day of Judgment!" - -He raised the heavy horse-pistol. - -The serranos fell from about him like flung chaff. The spittle dried in -their mouths; they could not speak. They were blind of eye, and blind -and black of brain as to what to do. - -The scene was much as before. On the great rock of the village, Don -Jaime sat rigid in the saddle like some black-browed Destroying Angel -and menaced, with his huge pistol, the pale trembling lily of a girl. - -But this time it was not Quesada who intervened. The bandolero long had -brooded upon the coming of this inevitable moment; yet now, when -ultimately it had struck, the moment found him standing off to one side -and a good twenty feet from the great rock where bulked up Don Jaime. -Ere the bandolero could interpose himself to obstruct Don Jaime's will, -ere he could dash forward to shoulder the perilous rebuttal, came -interposition from an unexpected and astonishing source. Stepped forward -the American, John Fremont Carson! - -Big, broad-shouldered, and wornly angular of face, Carson stepped -before the agitated girl, wholly between her and the threat of the -leveled gun. He lifted dauntless blue eyes to her Hebraic Jehovah of a -father. - -"Senor Don Jaime, you have no longer the right to seek retribution on -Felicidad," he said with quiet but positive defiance. "Ere you can -retaliate on her, you must deal with me. She is now my affianced bride!" - -Don Jaime's jaw sagged; an astounded gleam zig-zagged across the hard -quartz of his eyes. But quickly came to his aid the iron composure of -the hidalgo. Without lowering the pistol, he turned eagle-sharp white -head and stony eyes to look down frigidly at the square-jawed American -facing him in the street. With a forced politeness, he returned: - -"In Spain, know you, Senor Americano, one must ask the father for the -hand of his daughter. Should the father agree, the consent of the girl -follows as a matter of course. We are very hidebound in these -conventions, we Moors; no other ways command honor. The plighted word of -a mere chit of a girl--Dios hombre! who would think of respecting that!" - -He laughed harshly. - -"Grandee of Spain," answered Carson in the same lofty Spanish manner as -that used by the father, "in my country, should a man desire a girl, he -asks that girl in marriage; if the girl reciprocates, they bother asking -by-your-leave of no one else. Neither man nor American woman would -consider for a moment allowing a parent to select the companion and -helpmate of a lifetime. - -"This is not America; this is Spain. I know that, hidalgo doctor; and -whenever I can, I try to obey Spain's laws of conduct. I would have -sought your agreement and your blessing but for one good reason. -Felicidad is no longer your daughter! Because you believe she has -dishonored your ancient name, you have publicly disclaimed her as a -Torreblanca y Moncada. - -"Good God, man!" Carson exclaimed, the untenable and even outrageous -incongruity of the doctor's position suddenly hitting him like the smash -of a bludgeon. "How can _you_ contend for a father's rights over -Felicidad after the harsh and cruel way you have used her! Why, at this -very moment, you seek her life!" - -That struck home. A murderous gleam leaped into Don Jaime's eyes. His -eyes blazed like chips of glass. - -"Senor Americano," he said huskily, in shaking voice, "do you not know -that you are very rash? I am armed and ready; I look at you and see no -weapon in your hands. Do you think that a Torreblanca y Moncada will -long endure a quarrel in words? I warn you, my cheeky one! Cease -challenging my prerogatives! Else shall you provoke me to kill you!" - -It was more than a threat. Don Jaime de Torreblanca y Moncada, grandee -by birth and breeding, hidalgo of the old granite-jawed, eagle-stern and -eagle-haughty Spanish sort, trained the huge horse-pistol, with the -words, upon the square-jawed American facing him in the street! - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVIII - - -It exasperated and incensed Carson--this high-handed attempt of the -hidalgo to gag and stop his mouth, to cow and overawe his soul. - -He did not bother now to temper or anyway mollify his words. Bluntly, -boldly, he asserted: - -"I know your sort of man, Don Jaime! We have them in my country--the -Kentuckians, for instance! You do not really desire to kill Felicidad. -Your pride goads you, but your heart is no longer in the work. And now -you are more pleased than chagrined that I have stepped forth as her -champion--you think to satisfy your pride by working up enough venom -against me to bump me off and let the matter end there! - -"I'll take my chances, proud hidalgo. I'll fight you every move until -bitten by your lead. But you are not going, as you say, to wage much -longer this war in words. Very soon you are either going to get hot -enough to plug me, or you are going to throw up the sponge! Oh, I know -your sort! You'll do one or the other. But one thing you will not -do--you will not allow yourself to be made ridiculous!" - -Don Jaime was staggered. The American's talk was a talk strange and -utterly new to him. John Fremont Carson fought him with weapons that he -had not known existed. - -Don Jaime lowered the heavy horse-pistol to his knee. A spirit of -sardonic deviltry entered into him. He would worst this cheeky American -on his own ground! His lips curling half in smile, half in sneer, a -strange light in his eyes, he said: - -"Senor Americano, I will combat you and crush you with your own kind of -weapon. I will vanquish you with words--with one question! But it must -be understood, for the nonce, that I possess unqualifiedly and -absolutely the right to speak as Felicidad's father." - -The American nodded, a kind of bewildered wonder crowding his eyes. - -"For the nonce, that prerogative is yours," he agreed. - -"Bueno! Then straightway I challenge you to prove yourself of fit birth -to be Felicidad's husband! This is Spain, senor. I speak now as a -Spanish father. More; I am a hidalgo, and I speak for my daughter who is -the daughter of a hidalgo of Spain! She has an inheritance of blood and -pride which you cannot gainsay, but which you must equal if you would -marry her!" - -Dan Jaime spoke with a Latin fluency of exposition, in a rushing torrent -of words. His eyes sparkled like vitreous slag. - -"Look you, my cheeky one! No man of common birth may hope to aspire to -my daughter. We Spanish grandees are a feudal race, caste-bound and -arrogant of birth. Perhaps you do not understand the true color of the -situation, eh? Then know you that even in Spain there are not more than -a score of men who are my equal in seignior blood and ancient knightly -name! - -"Now, for any one outside this aristocratic circle to yearn and quest -for my daughter's hand would be a sun-daring presumption. Take this -Manuel Morales, for an instance." Momentarily his eyes leaped up the -street to where the matador stood, his wasted form propped against the -mud wall of the hospital. - -"Morales is the hero of the peninsula, as you know--a popular idol, a -famous and distinguished man. Royalties and hidalgos ask after his -health, greet him by name and with handshake. He is the most renowned of -modern bullfighters. And he is a rich man--richer far than are most -grandees; for much, much gold has come to him along with his -well-deserved success. - -"Yet never would Morales dare to look for a wife among blooded folk! -Indeed, should he be so mad as to presume so far, the hidalgo whom he -thus affronted would kill him without ruth, as for a deadly grievance. -And at once that hidalgo would be acquitted of all wrong by the public -opinion of Spain. Aye, though Morales is the idol of all Spaniards! - -"That is right and as it should be; for when all is said, he is only a -bullfighter. And bullfighters have no social standing; they are not men -of birth nor breeding; they are a low caste. Ask Morales himself. Even -now he is nodding agreement to my every word!" - -Carson did not trouble to turn his head to gain corroboration of the -doctor's statement from the matador up the street. He realized already -the poser Don Jaime was soon to spring. He eyed the haughty hidalgo -fixedly, a peculiar smile slowly parting his lips. - -"And Quesada," Don Jaime swept on--"Jacinto Quesada is in the same case -as Morales. My words apply to him as much as they do to any bullfighter. -Not because he is the Wolf of the Sierras, a bandolero and outlaw. -Seguramente, no! But only because he is of common birth." - -Don Jaime paused. He looked down at the American. The half-smile had -altogether fled his lips. His lips were palpably sneering. - -"Now as to yourself, my cheeky one!" he said with biting sharpness. "It -is often said that the Americans are a nation of _canaille_. Can you -prove yourself worthy of the daughter of a Spanish hidalgo and grandee? -I ask you that. I wait for your answer." - -"You ask me to prove to you that I am not of common birth?" - -Don Jaime nodded vigorously. Caspita! this was indeed a trump card! All -the venom of his embittered spirit showed. - -"You cannot prove that, eh? Then it is true, is it not, that the -Americans are a nation of--" - -"One moment, Don Jaime. Your Spanish royalty is the keystone, the -fountainhead, of Spanish society, is it not? Alfonso, your king, is as -good and better an aristocrat than any of his hidalgos--" - -"There are some that would dispute you there. Myself, I know my line is -older! My ancestors--" - -The American was broadly smiling. - -"You will admit, however, that Alfonso is of uncommon birth?" - -"Seguramente, yes! Is he not my master and lord!" - -"Well, then! I was born in the same year as Alfonso, 1886. He was the -son of a king; I the son of an American millionaire. Because Alfonso was -such a high and mighty infant, his birth was a long-heralded public -affair. And so was mine. When I was born, the newspapers of America -remarked that here was no common birth. In long articles they compared -it to the birth of Alfonso, citing statistics to show the principalities -in mines and manufactories I would rule, the kingly revenues that would -pour annually into my coffers of state. - -"Alfonso's actual birth was marked by great pomp and a certain ceremony. -To prove that he was truly the son of his royal mother, that everything -was aboveboard and as it should be, in the room with the queen, when -Alfonso first put in an appearance, were a round dozen and more -hidalgos--" - -"That is our Spanish custom when royal infants are born." - -"Just so. A very uncommon birth! Well, with my mother, when first I put -in an appearance, were a round dozen doctors and nurses of all kinds, -trained and practical, wet and dry! Quite an uncommon birth, too, don't -you think?" - -What could Don Jaime do? Carson had worsted him signally. The grim drama -had become almost a comedy, a farce! - -Don Jaime feared longer to persist. It would not do for him to be made -ridiculous and laughable. - -All at once he lifted his head and looked beyond Carson, beyond -Felicidad. In a great voice, he called out: - -"Put up your gun, Quesada! I am a wineskin squeezed dry; I am empty of -all words and all passions; I am done! Put up your gun, you Wolf-Cub -you, and I will put up mine! I had meant to beat you to the first -shot--to kill Felicidad and then have you kill me! But now--Carajo, I am -done!" - -Like mechanical toys on clockwork pivots, every man and woman within -sound of the doctor's great voice, turned simultaneously to look for -Quesada. - -There, twenty feet away, stood the wolfishly gaunt bandolero, a revolver -in his right hand trained rigidly on Don Jaime! That revolver had once -been Jacques Ferou's! - -Not before had John Fremont Carson noticed the revolver in Quesada's -hand. He was taken completely by surprise. Little had he realized how -close to black tragedy had been the drama in which he had enacted so -prominent a part! - -In the American's eyes, in the eyes of every man there present, the -hidalgo on horseback loomed up, then and on the sudden, with a new and -imposing dignity, a rare nobility and magnificence. Don Jaime alone had -known of the imminent threat of Quesada's revolver. All the while he had -striven to attain his vengeance, all that while Don Jaime had trusted -his life to a hair. Quesada had him covered. The mere press of a finger -on the trigger, and Don Jaime would have toppled out of the saddle--a -dead man! - -Quesada had thought Don Jaime all unaware. Now, for the first time, he -comprehended the sublime insolence of the hidalgo's persistency. Abashed -and shamefaced, he lowered the revolver and shoved it back into his -belt. - -Don Jaime lifted the horse-pistol from his knee and slipped it into the -holster slung from the saddle. Then, without another word and without -even a glance toward his daughter, he turned the old nag's head about -and went deliberately down the goat path. - -He never once looked round. But his back seemed not quite so rigid nor -his old white head so erect. All at once there were about the -unmistakable signs of an old, old man. And in the slow pace of the -faithful nag, there seemed something that wanted to linger yet was urged -on by pride, inexorable and pitiless. - -"Oh, mi pobre padre!" wailed Felicidad after him. "His heart breaks and -he is lonely! And there is only old whining Pedro and the childish -Teresa to welcome him back to the gloomy casa!" - -Save for the creaking of the saddle, the soft pad-pad of the horse's -hoof-falls, nothing answered from down the goat path. For the first time -then, in all that intolerable eternity of death and disease and lusting -vengeance, Felicidad wilted in a swoon to the ground. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIX - - -"By gad!" exclaimed Carson, leaping to the side of Felicidad and lifting -her tenderly in his arms. "There will yet be a wedding down in the casa -of Torreblanca y Moncada outside Granada! Come, Jacinto; lend us your -aid. Get horses! We must overtake the hidalgo doctor!" - -"There are no horses in Minas de la Sierra," returned Quesada. "There -are only mules and borricos which the serranos use to sleigh their cords -of pine down to the lower torrents, and to carry their panniers of white -manzanilla into the towns." - -"Anything!" urged the American. Felicidad in his arms was showing signs -of recovering consciousness. "Mules, borricos, anything upon which we -can ride!" - -"Muy bueno," assented Quesada readily. "It is very good, and I will go -along with you. They say Jacinto Quesada is dead; I can ride the roads -with impunity. And the roads are paved with gold for such as I!" - -"I will go also," volunteered Morales--"I, and what remains of my -cuadrilla. In his offices down in Seville sits my manager, the Senor Don -Arturo Guerra, signing contract after contract; and these contracts I -must soon fulfill, or lose much money and much prestige with the -presidentes of the bull rings and the aficionados of Spain." - -"Hola, mis serranos!" called Quesada. "Fetch forth your beasts. The -caballeros would look at them and pay you well in golden notes on the -Bank of Spain!" - -A little later, the cavalcade wound down the loops of the goat path. In -all the pueblo, there had proved to be only three burden-bearing -animals--two mules and one ass. However, Morales' cuadrilla had been -depleted by the loss through the plague of Alfonso Robledo and Coruncho -Lopez, and the death in the rebellion of the banderillero, Baptista -Monterey; so the party managed, by doubling up, to make shift. - -There were altogether seven of them. Morales and the three surviving men -of the cuadrilla paired off on the two mules. Felicidad, still pale from -her faint and pensive with longing, jogged behind Carson on the crupper -of the sturdy sure-footed ass. - -Quesada laughed when they begged him also to mount one of the mules. - -"It would be too much for the animal. And besides," he added with a -return of his old pride, "I am the Wolf of the Sierras. My long -mountaineer's legs are swifter to move now and even more tireless than -the slow hoofs of any stupid borrico. Hold your peace, mis camaradas. -Ere nightfall, you shall see!" - -Accoutred in the neat gray tweeds and slouch hat of the deceased -Frenchman, he led the way with swinging strides. Long after they had -disappeared down the gorge, the mountain boy Gabriel, yellow of skin and -oddly wrinkled of face, stood on the rock at the brink of the village -and sought to follow them with his wistful eyes. - -The cavalcade convoluted through the gorges. Never once did they sight -the senor doctor. Mounted as he was on the nag, slow with age yet -swifter-paced than the ambling donkeys, the hidalgo had easily put dust -and distance between them, and buried himself in the lower passes. - -They came, in the due course of nights and days, to the mournful Pass of -the Blessed Trinity. There were three diverging roads leading out and -down from it. Quesada, many yards in the lead, waited until the -cavalcade overtook him. Then pointing to that dusty road which snaked -most sweepingly to the left, he said: - -"Felicidad will now recognize the way. That road winds through the -Alpujarras and directly down into Granada. For myself, I bid thee -adios!" - -Felicidad exclaimed in surprise and deep disappointment: - -"You are going to desolate us, Jacintito, by absenting yourself?" - -"And you are not going to help us assault the hidalgo doctor's casa with -bell and book and ring?" from Morales. - -Said the American with quiet appeal, "I intended you for my best man, -Jacinto." - -But to all Quesada shook his head in dissent. - -"Down in Getafe," he returned, "there are ten thousand pesetas awaiting -me--the reward for my own death!" - -"But that affair of the Christ of the Pass!" exclaimed Carson. "You -there proclaimed yourself to the police as still alive. The Guardia -Civil must know now that Montara and the dead sergeant made a mistake. -They may even guess it was Ferou that was killed. To go to Getafe, after -all this, will be to put your head into a noose!" - -Quesada smiled grimly. - -"But they may have taken me for a rank impostor. They may have thought -me some serrano friend of the Alvarados who, overhearing the old -mother's story and lacking ingenuity, announced myself as Jacinto -Quesada just to dumbfound the police and save poor Miguel." - -"Hardly likely," remarked Carson drily. - -"Ea pues!" exclaimed Quesada. "Well, then! How about the fact that the -honor of the Guardia Civil was jeopardized by young Alvarado's treachery -and that, before my very eyes, Capitan Luis Guevara and his troop swore -themselves to secrecy? Senor Carson, you do not know the Spanish police -as do I. Even as Don Jaime and Sargento Esteban Alvarado thought more of -their personal honor than they did of the lives of their offspring, even -and just so do the Guardia Civil think more of their honor and good name -than they do of capturing a mere bandolero, of keeping secure the peace -of Spain! - -"That troop of police has not told headquarters. I am even taking the -chance that Montara filed his report as if nothing had happened that -night at the shrine. Getafe will not know of my resurrection until I -play this little trick. For the interval, I am Monsenor Jacques Ferou!" - -"It is a coup!" enthused Morales. - -"But a tremendously risky one," qualified the American dubiously. "You -stand to win ten thousand pesetas, Quesada, but you stand by far longer -odds to lose your life. For what do you need money so badly, Jacinto, -that you should stake red alfonsos against your precious neck?" - -"Am I not forever risking everything to gain mere gold?" countered -Quesada. "But carajo! that is not my reason. I have a higher incentive." - -His gaunt face became priestly with a sudden somber tenderness. - -"Up in Minas de la Sierra," he went on, "there is a mountaineer's orphan -bantling with heart of fire and soul of gold. To-day he dreams to be a -great man of Spain. But the God of Spain smiles derisively upon a son of -the people who would seek to rise above his fellows. Spain is a country -of limited opportunities. Here there are only two careers open for a son -of the soil. My little mountain brat may become a bullfighter, a gran -espada like our Manuel; or he may become a bandolero like me. There is -naught else for him. I know, Senor Carson; I have lived Spain myself! - -"Up here in these desolate hills, my lad is too far removed from the -cities of the plains. Never will he see the brutal savage encounter of -bull and man; never will be waked in him the glamour and ambition for -the blood and sand of the arena. Never will he be a bullfighter! - -"But carajo! never shall he be a bandolero! I, Jacinto Quesada, say it! -I will not have him go houseless in the wind and rain, forever hounded -by the podencos of the Guardia Civil. By the Nails of Christ, no!" - -"What would you then, Jacinto?" asked Felicidad with the quick sympathy -of a woman. - -Interposed the matador with a sudden deep interest: "Of what child do -you speak, Quesada?" - -"Of the boy Gabriel! Half of the blood money shall be used to send him -to the great University of Salamanca! I will make our little Gabriel a -superb senor doctor like Felicidad's own haughty father, Don Jaime!" - -"I will put an equal amount to the furtherance of the noble project!" -Morales pledged himself enthusiastically. - -"But the other half, Quesada?" questioned Carson with characteristic -acuteness. "What do you purpose doing with the remaining five thousand -pesetas?" - -"I have a plan wherewith to use them," returned Quesada evasively. - -He started away. He would say no more. Waving his hand to them in adieu, -he called back: - -"Go thou with God, my friends. The orange trees of the Alpujarras are in -white and fragrant bloom. To thee, Senor Carson, and to mia camarista -Felicidad, I wish all the blessings of God on thy new and great -happiness!" - - * * * * * - -A week later, a wolfishly gaunt man in gray tweeds and slouch traveling -hat invaded the headquarters of the Guardia Civil at Getafe and -presented himself before the desk sergeant. - -"I am Monsenor Jacques Ferou," he said. "I come to claim the reward for -the killing, up in Minas de la Sierra, of the bandolero, Jacinto -Quesada." - -The desk sergeant was very glad to meet Senor Ferou. He shook his hand -warmly. He knew from the foreign swagger of his clothes that the man was -an outlander. As with all Spaniards, he had two guesses as to the -country of the stranger's nativity. From the man's name then and swarthy -complexion, he decided, by some unaccountable quirk of the mind, that he -was an Englishman! - -To secure the authority and money, he dispatched one of the policemen -waiting in the room to the office of the Ministro de Gobernacion. -Meanwhile, making conversation, he politely inquired whether Senor Ferou -liked the country. - -"Si; I like Spain very much," the pseudo-Englishman returned, smiling -pleasantly. "I have made many good friends here, and Dios sabe! perhaps -a few poor enemies. I shall remain here for some time." - -"That was a very brave thing you did up in the Sierra Nevadas. Jacinto -Quesada has long harassed and terrorized us poor Moors. All Spain thanks -you and feels you well merit the reward. But have you any plans for the -spending of all those pesetas?" - -"I have two plans. One is to aid a protege of mine, a motherless little -child; the other to pay the costs of a certain fete. There is going to -be a wedding over in the foothills of the Sierra Morena. It is to be a -wedding among the gypsies. You know how costly and lavish are the -marital feasts of the Zincali. They celebrate for two weeks, -hand-running, just like the Jews of Barbary. You see, sargento mio, I am -to marry a girl of the Gitano, one Paquita, daughter of Pepe Flammenca, -count of a gypsy clan!" - -"Ah!" exclaimed the sergeant, his face wrinkling into a broad smile. -"Most certainly are you English both eccentric and adventurous! But you -seek your love in such strange places! Do not our white, soft-eyed maids -of Andalusia captivate you?" - -"They do not," returned the man in the gray tweeds with vehemence. "When -your Andalusian virgins caress me with languishing looks and their -tongues drip liquid flattery and love, my masculinity rebels at the -thought of being wooed by a woman. You know we Englishmen joy in being -the seeker, the stalker, the predatory one!" - -"Eh, eh! This Gitana treated you with disdain, what? She fled from you, -was cold to your kisses, took on as if you were a dust-mote in her eye, -no? Perhaps she even prodded a knife between your ribs--it is a way they -have, these soft brown leopards of the Zincali!" - -"She did more than that. She stabbed at my pride. She made love to -another man, a sad fool, whom she had imitate and ape me just to show -how little importa I was--" - -The policeman returned, just then, holding in his hand two five-thousand -peseta bills and a receipt to be signed. The man in the gray tweeds -affixed his name with a flourish. Then the sergeant handed him the bills -and although his eyes were greedy, he politely said: - -"Go thou with God, my brave Englishman, and may Heaven bless your coming -happiness." - -He looked after the man as he went out the door, and sighed heavily. - -"Ah, I knew them well when I was young, the brown maidens of the -Zincali! They are wine to kiss and soft silk to caress, but the very -tigers when aroused. But I am getting on now--getting on and too old for -such thoughts!" - -He looked down at the receipt in his hand. He started. - -"Dios hombre!" he ejaculated. - -The policemen crowded around him. But he had recovered. - -"It is nothing," he said. - -He went back to his desk. There, for a long time, slyly and secretly he -eyed the receipt the man had given him. Upon it was written: - -"Received payment, Jacinto Quesada." - -Very stealthily, the desk sergeant tore the paper into a thousand little -bits. - - -THE END - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Wolf Cub, by Patrick Casey - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WOLF CUB *** - -***** This file should be named 41126-8.txt or 41126-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/1/1/2/41126/ - -Produced by D Alexander, Mary Meehan, The Internet Archive -(TIA) 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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