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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78217 ***
+
+
+                       THE FATE OF THE WOLF
+
+                         By W. C. Tuttle
+        Author of “Quien Sabe,” “The Price of a Name,” etc.
+
+
+        In the Mexican borderland, the name of The Wolf was one
+        to strike fear into men’s hearts. And only Destino knew
+        why The Wolf, who once had only robbed the rich to give
+        to the poor, had changed to a killer and despoiler of all
+
+
+I did not know whence he came; I only knew that he stood at the little
+bar in Felipe’s cantina, a mug of warm beer in his hand and a ring of
+laughter in his voice. He was taller than most men of the Santa Clemente
+country.
+
+His hair was tinged with red, and his devil-may-care, blue eyes sparkled
+with mirth, as he slapped one huge hand on his broad chaparejos, a
+resounding slap, which caused every man in the cantina to start with
+alarm.
+
+“Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!” he laughed loudly. “By the saints, you are a
+jumpy crew! Is it because I speak of _El Lobo_? It is? Are ye afraid
+of a name? Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!”
+
+He crashed his mug on the bar and bade Felipe fill it again, with one
+for each of us.
+
+“Faugh!” he grunted with disgust. “The beer is warm and the world is
+warm! And when I speak of _El Lobo_ ye shiver. I wish I could find
+somethin’ that would make me shiver.”
+
+“Perhaps _El Lobo_--” began Emilio, who owned the little Rancho Sereno.
+
+“_El Lobo_?” The big man laughed again, until the cobwebs on the
+rafters danced a jig. “The Wolf? And why, my friend? Are you afraid
+of a name? Drink a toast with me--” he lifted his mug above his head
+and laughed again--“to the day when I clip the brush from a cowardly
+animal--_El Lobo_!”
+
+We drank, but with a fear in our hearts. And _El Lobo_ was a name to
+strike fear. For five years he had been in the borderland, and no
+man knew where he would strike next. Rumor had said that the man was
+insane.
+
+He had never come to Santa Clemente. Perhaps there was little to bring
+him. We were not a wealthy community. Except for Don Roberto Aliso, who
+owned the Rancho del Aguila, the Ranch of the Eagle, the valley of the
+Santa Clemente would make sorry pickings for _El Lobo_.
+
+For three years _El Lobo_ had been but a--what shall I call him? He
+robbed many, it is true, but only the rich. And he gave to those in
+need. No poor man need guard his flock against _El Lobo_, at that time.
+In mysterious ways gold came to the Church, and it was whispered that
+it came from _El Lobo_. _Quien sabe?_
+
+Then the gold ceased to come, and the poor suffered with the rich. And
+not only did _El Lobo_ rob. He killed. _Madre de Dios_, the man had no
+compassion!
+
+But Don Roberto Aliso was not afraid of _El Lobo_. The Rancho del
+Aguila was well named, the Ranch of the Eagle. It was like a castle
+of old Spain, high on the top of a hill, its red tiled roofs gleaming
+against the gray cliff behind it.
+
+Don Roberto was rich, as men are accounted rich in Santa Clemente; rich
+and very proud. I should know this, because for years I have been an
+overseer for Don Roberto.
+
+I have watched the Señorita Juana grow from a gangling, long-limbed
+child to the most beautiful creature in the whole Santa Clemente
+country. Don Roberto had sent her to the convent for education, but
+she had been back a whole year, and there was much speculation as to
+whom she would marry.
+
+You have seen the yucca in bloom? Truly it is a thing of rare beauty,
+its tall, graceful head of flowery bells, fit to grace the garden of a
+king. Yet it is only of the desert hills, a princess of the desolation.
+
+But below this graceful flower is a circlet of daggers, surrounding
+the stalk, as though a jealous nature had grown a defense against all
+intruders.
+
+And the Señorita Juana was like the yucca--even to the circlet of
+daggers; for Don Roberto was a jealous man and guarded Juana well.
+Perhaps too well. Five of his riders were gunmen; hard-faced men from
+the north, who drank heavily, swore in great oaths against living
+where nothing ever happened, and took their pay. And it was good pay,
+too.
+
+The Señora Aliso was a tall, gray-haired woman, kindly, but seldom
+smiling. Don Roberto was a hard man, but just. Perhaps he was just a
+trifle harsh with his family; but that is not the business of an
+overseer.
+
+And this man at the cantina bar? None of us knew him. His horse, a
+_pintado_, drowsed at the hitching-rack, while its owner laughed at
+us for being afraid of a name. When he had gone for something to eat,
+Felipe gave him a name--“The Laughing Caballero!”
+
+The name fitted him well. We drank a toast to him. Perhaps it was more
+of a prayer than a toast, because we liked him--and his great laugh.
+
+Twenty miles east of Santa Clemente was El Sicomoro, the big rancho of
+Don Esteban Carillo. It was almost as big as the Rancho del Aguila, but
+the lure of the green cloth kept Don Esteban from becoming a rich man.
+
+He was tall, thin, graceful, always the gentleman. Perhaps just a trifle
+too suave. His mustaches were always waxed to needle points, and he too
+laughed--but not like the laughter of the stranger. And where the
+stranger wore the plain, rough dress of an American cowboy, Don Esteban
+sparkled with the color and silver of old Spain. In dress, there was no
+comparison.
+
+Don Esteban was a great friend of Don Roberto, and Don Roberto asked Don
+Esteban’s advice in many things. I knew that Don Esteban wanted Señorita
+Juana above all things, but I also knew that Don Roberto did not want
+Don Esteban for a son-in-law, because he knew that Don Esteban had many
+weaknesses. Perhaps Señorita Juana did not want Don Esteban. But that is
+not the business of an overseer, so I shall not venture an opinion.
+
+Among Don Roberto’s gunmen was Peter Sleen, who was in fact the main
+one of the five. Sleen was a big man, quarrelsome, quick to anger. It
+was said that Sleen had killed men with his bare hands, but I do not
+know this for a fact, although it would be easy to believe. But I do
+know that the next day after the Laughing Caballero came to Santa
+Clemente, he rode to the Rancho del Aguila with Don Roberto and four
+of his men. And he laughed at me, as he rode into the wide patio.
+
+“Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! I have come to help guard thee from _El Lobo_!”
+
+I was quick to see the black looks from the other gunmen, but did not
+understand what it was all about until Don Roberto called me to his
+room and told me the story.
+
+“This new man will take the place of Sleen,” he told me. “His name is
+Destino.”
+
+“But what of Sleen?” I asked.
+
+“Sleen is dead, Pablo. These two met in Santa Clemente. Destino laughed
+at Sleen, who was not a man to be laughed at. Someone had told Destino
+that Sleen had been hired by me as a protection against _El Lobo_.
+Destino told Sleen that if such as he were able to keep _El Lobo_ from
+the Rancho del Aguila, then indeed the man was not a wolf, but a
+slinking coyote. You know, Pablo, that Sleen was so fast on the draw
+that the eye could hardly follow his hand, but Destino was faster. He
+forced Sleen to drop his gun. _Dios!_ And then he laughed.” Don Roberto
+shook his head, as though hardly believing what his eyes had told him.
+“He taunted Sleen for being a sloth on the draw, and offered to fight
+him barehanded.
+
+“There was much difference in their weight. And Sleen was reputed a
+killer with his hands. But Santa Clemente will never forget that
+fight, Pablo! In the middle of the street they fought. Sleen, his
+great shoulders hunched, his hands extended, as he tried to grasp
+Destino.
+
+“_Dios!_” But it was no use. Once he tore the sleeve from Destino, and
+all the while the fists of the tall man beat a devil’s tattoo in his
+face, until Sleen did not look like a man. It was just smash, smash,
+smash! Sleen’s face looked like the mud beneath the hoofs of a running
+horse--thud and splatter.
+
+“Flesh and blood cannot stand it, Pablo. Destino slipped, and Sleen
+fell into him, grasping him with both hands. It was what Sleen had
+wanted, to get his vise-like hands on this laughing devil. You know
+how strong Sleen was, Pablo. They came to grips and Destino laughed;
+laughed joyfully, I tell you. Then he tore Sleen’s grip loose, heaved
+him high over his head and threw him headlong.
+
+“We waited for Sleen to get up, while Destino leaned against a post
+and felt of his sore knuckles. But Sleen did not get up. It was a fair
+fight, witnessed by many people. Destino came to me and asked if he
+might take Sleen’s place.”
+
+“And the others?” I asked.
+
+“They saw the fight, Pablo. Sleen was never a favorite. And when it
+comes to fighting, Destino is worth more than all of them.”
+
+“I pray to the saints that no fighting will come,” I replied. “_El
+Lobo_ and his bandits know better than to try and raid this rancho,
+Don Roberto.”
+
+“Do they?” Don Roberto smiled grimly and turned to his desk, from which
+he took a piece of paper. “Pablo, you do not read; so I will tell you
+what this paper says. It is from _El Lobo_, and came yesterday.” And he
+read out:
+
+        “To Señor Aliso--a warning. You will deliver ten thousand
+        pesos in silver, in person, to a man who will meet you at
+        the highest point of the San Sebastian trail at noon on the
+        tenth day of the present month. Go alone. Comply with this
+        request, or suffer the consequences. I demand but once.
+                                                        _El Lobo_.”
+
+“And what will you do?” I asked when he had finished.
+
+“I haven’t ten thousand pesos to throw to the wolves.”
+
+It was not for me to offer advice to a Don. At any rate he did not ask
+me for advice. I left the room and went down the flagged walk to the
+patio gate, where I found Juana, one hand resting against the wall, as
+she peered across the patio toward the men’s sleeping quarters.
+
+I halted to listen. A man was playing a guitar and singing. _Madre de
+Dios_, what a voice! He was singing in English, and I understand but
+little, but it was a love song. No man can put that much feeling in
+his voice unless he sings of love. I did not move until he finished.
+Juana turned slowly and saw me.
+
+“Who is he, Pablo?” she asked. “The singing man?”
+
+“I am not sure, señorita, but I think it is Destino, a new man, whom
+your father, Don Roberto, hired today.”
+
+“Destino? What a queer name, Pablo. It means Fate.”
+
+I had not thought of that, but I said, “But he is an American, I think,
+and they have strange names. He takes the place of Sleen.”
+
+“Of Sleen? Oh, I dislike Sleen, Pablo. Anyone would be welcome in his
+place. Sh-h-h-h! He sings again.”
+
+I saw her white hand tighten on an ivy stem, but could not see her face,
+as he sang an old love song of Spain, sang it softly, plaintively, as
+though beneath the window of his love. Don Roberto had come softly up
+behind us and listened to the song.
+
+“It is Destino,” I said, when the song was finished.
+
+“Laughs while he kills a man, and then sings of love,” said Don Roberto
+thoughtfully. “He is a man, Pablo. Juana, my daughter, the night grows
+cool.”
+
+She left us and went slowly back to the house. Cigarettes glowed
+from the bench beside the sleeping quarters, and the guitar strummed
+softly. Mockingbirds called sleepily from the bower of pepper trees
+which shaded the patio, and somewhere a mother crooned softly to her
+child.
+
+On the far end of the patio, high up, on the thick adobe wall, showed
+the silhouette of a watchful guard, his sombrero and shoulders clearly
+etched against the sky. Another watched from the south side, watching
+toward the land of _El Lobo_.
+
+“He can never come here,” I said, speaking my thoughts.
+
+“One never knows,” said Don Roberto. “_El Lobo_ needs ten thousand
+pesos, and when he is in need----”
+
+Don Roberto did not finish, but turned away. Such was the fear of The
+Wolf.
+
+A guard called a warning from the wall. Three horsemen were approaching
+from the north. Don Roberto came back and went to the main gate. The
+riders were Don Esteban Carillo and two of his men.
+
+They were made welcome for the night, as the hospitality of the Rancho
+del Aguila was proverbial. It was an hour later that Don Roberto sent
+for me, and I found Don Esteban with him. There were many empty bottles
+on the table.
+
+“Pablo,” said Don Roberto, “this Destino spoke to you as we rode in, did
+he not? What do you know of him?”
+
+I told him what Destino had said at the cantina of Felipe. Don Esteban
+shook his head.
+
+“I would not trust this man,” he said. “He is a stranger. I can furnish
+you a dependable man to take the place of Sleen. I furnished these five
+men to you, Roberto. They have proved their worth, and this stranger may
+not work in harmony with them. You cannot afford to take any chances.”
+
+“Perhaps you are right,” nodded Don Roberto. “But I have taken a fancy
+to this man, Esteban. Remember he defeated the big Sleen in a fair
+fight. Pablo, find Destino and bring him here.”
+
+I had little trouble in finding Destino. He was near the door as I came
+out, the guitar under his arm. His teeth flashed white in the moonlight,
+as he said, “My friend, I seek the ladies.”
+
+“And for what?” I asked.
+
+“That they might share in the music. _Madre de Dios_, do you think I
+would waste my songs on those dolts, whose minds are never higher than
+the brim of a mescal glass?”
+
+I told him Don Roberto wished to see him; so he laughed softly, tucked
+the guitar tightly under his arm and bade me precede him. They were
+drinking more wine as we came in. Destino swept off his sombrero,
+stepped aside from the door and leaned against the wall.
+
+“You sent for me, Don Roberto?” he asked.
+
+“Yes, Destino. Don Esteban is of the opinion that I was hasty in
+bringing you to the Rancho del Aguila. Perhaps he is right. It is not
+safe to deal with strangers. And you are a stranger.”
+
+“That is true,” said Destino softly. “I have none to speak for me.”
+
+“Why did you come to Santa Clemente?” asked Don Esteban.
+
+“Why?” Destino laughed boldly. “It is no secret, señor; I came to try
+and kill _El Lobo_.”
+
+“To try and kill _El Lobo_? A fool’s errand, my friend.”
+
+“Perhaps I am a fool.”
+
+“No doubt.” Don Esteban poured himself a drink. “If you were not a
+stranger in this country you would not say these things.”
+
+“Familiarity with danger would not make me a coward, señor.”
+
+Don Esteban flushed hotly.
+
+“Peace,” said Don Roberto. “We will not quarrel. At least the man is no
+coward, Esteban. Stranger he may be, but a stranger unafraid. Go back to
+your quarters, Destino. You are no longer a stranger.”
+
+Destino bowed low to both of them and went away. Don Esteban shook his
+head.
+
+“Something tells me that the man is dangerous, Roberto. After that
+letter, demanding ten thousand pesos, you must know that _El Lobo_ has
+his eye on this rancho. And who knows where and how he will strike? The
+man does not work alone.”
+
+“We shall see, Esteban. There will be no bag of silver at the top of the
+San Sebastian trail tomorrow. If _El Lobo_ wants meat he must fight for
+it, because I will never butcher for a wolf.”
+
+I do not know what else was said on the subject, because Don Roberto
+dismissed me, but it is my opinion that they talked of Juana. Don
+Esteban was in a vile humor the next morning, but it may have been
+because of too much wine.
+
+The Señorita Juana was not yet of age, although nearly. Don Esteban
+and his men were ready to leave, when little Rafael, the son of one
+of the guards, came running to Don Roberto with something clutched in
+each hand.
+
+They were alike, two rolled papers, tied with string, and to each was
+attached a stone the size of an egg. The child had found them inside
+the patio.
+
+Don Roberto’s face paled slightly as he unrolled one of them and scanned
+the writing. Swiftly he unrolled the other, but after a glance he handed
+it to Don Esteban, who read it through and swore with a great wonder in
+his voice.
+
+“Listen to this,” he commanded, and read aloud:
+
+        “To Señor Esteban: Too long have you enjoyed the undivided
+        prosperity of El Sicomoro. I will come soon. _El Lobo_.”
+
+Don Esteban crumpled the note in his hand, his lips shut tightly as he
+looked around at the men of the rancho. Then Destino threw back his
+head and laughed, as though it were a huge joke. Don Esteban glared at
+him and his fingers twitched at the knife hilt in his sash, but Destino
+still only laughed.
+
+“The man must be mad,” muttered Don Esteban, and I saw two of the gunmen
+make the sign of the cross. Don Esteban turned to Don Roberto.
+
+“And is your message the same, Roberto?”
+
+“Another warning, telling me that unless I deliver the ten thousand
+pesos he will take what I hold more dear than money.”
+
+“Juana?” whispered Don Esteban, and Don Roberto nodded.
+
+“What will you do, Roberto?”
+
+“What would you do?”
+
+“God knows. Money is little compared with safety.”
+
+“True. But if I pay once, I pay always, Esteban. The Wolf has an
+appetite.”
+
+“Pay nothing,” advised Destino. “Let The Wolf come, señor. We will nail
+his skin to the patio door.”
+
+Don Roberto smiled, “At least you are not afraid, Destino.”
+
+“Why be afraid? We could defy an army, señor. Let The Wolf howl in the
+hills until his throat aches.”
+
+Don Roberto nodded and asked me to find the guards who had watched
+from the walls. I brought them to him but they swore that no one had
+come near the rancho. He showed them the messages, of which they knew
+nothing.
+
+“Sleeping fools!” snapped Don Roberto. “You deserve many lashes. Perhaps
+it will serve to keep your eyes open in the future.”
+
+“Pardon, señor,” said Destino. “Possibly the guards are not at fault.
+From the rock of the eagle, a man with a good arm might throw that stone
+to the patio. Men would not look that way, because no danger could come
+from that direction.”
+
+“That is true,” nodded Don Roberto. “It is possible to scale the other
+side of that cliff, and the stones were found at the far side of the
+patio. Tonight I will have a man on the cliff.”
+
+“But could anyone assault the rancho from the cliff?” asked Don Esteban.
+
+“No. The overhang of the cliff prevents it. From the top of the rock,
+one might see the end of the patio, but it would be impossible to attack
+from that quarter.”
+
+There was little more talk. Don Esteban and his men mounted and rode
+away swiftly, anxious to get back to El Sicomoro and prepare a defense.
+We had been talking near an overhanging balcony, and after Don Roberto
+had gone away, Juana came to me.
+
+“Pablo, what is all this about _El Lobo_?” she asked. I tried to evade
+the question, but she was insistent; so I told her all about it. She
+had been on that balcony and heard Don Esteban read his message, and
+had heard Don Roberto explain what his was about.
+
+“Don Esteban wishes to marry me,” she said. “I must talk to someone,
+Pablo. My father has told me this, but has not given Don Esteban his
+consent--yet. My mother admires Don Esteban.”
+
+“And you, Juana?” I asked.
+
+“He is nearly as old as my father, Pablo. He drinks much wine to keep
+his heart warm and pays the toll of several gambling houses.”
+
+“Perhaps that is true, Juana.”
+
+“It is true,” she said softly. “Pablo, you are not young, but you were
+young once, and at that time would you have married an old woman?”
+
+“No, Juana. Youth is for youth. It is not natural for May to wed with
+December. They are of different seasons.”
+
+“And _El Lobo_ is old,” she sighed. “He threatens to come and carry
+me away. If I marry Don Esteban, I will have an old husband, and, if
+I wait for _El Lobo_ to carry me away, I will have an old master. Is
+there no youth in the world, Pablo?”
+
+She looked at me so distressfully that I must laugh, and she laughed
+with me. Then I looked up to see Destino standing beside a corner of
+the wall, looking at us. Juana looked at him and they both smiled. It
+was the first time she had ever seen him.
+
+“Pardon, señorita,” he said softly. “Your laugh brought me here. It is
+good to hear you laugh.”
+
+Juana blushed and turned away, but in two strides he was at her side,
+imploring her not to leave.
+
+“Destino,” I said, “this is the Señorita Aliso, the daughter of Don
+Roberto.”
+
+She turned and looked at him, as he made her a sweeping bow.
+
+“Señorita, perhaps it is not just that a hired gunman speak with a
+daughter of a Don; but I am named Fate. And who shall say that fate
+does not speak to all?”
+
+“Fate is something we cannot evade,” she said seriously.
+
+“It is useless to try, señorita.”
+
+“And who may know whether their fate is good or ill?”
+
+Destino laughed, “None, señorita. One must take fate as it comes,
+finding out to their gladness--or sorrow.”
+
+They looked at each other and smiled. I am old enough to have a little
+wisdom; so I excused myself and went away. I knew that Don Roberto would
+not approve of a hired gunman talking to Juana, but what was that to me.
+I am an overseer, not a duenna.
+
+Later that day I went with Don Roberto to the far side of the cliff,
+where we searched for signs of the man who had thrown the messages. It
+was difficult for men to reach the top of the cliff, but we managed to
+make the climb.
+
+We sat on the edge of the cliff and scanned the country. Far below us
+we could glimpse a part of the open patio and some of the stables, but
+it would be impossible for anyone to approach the rancho from over the
+cliff.
+
+“You worry about _El Lobo_?” I asked.
+
+“Yes, Pablo,” he replied. “There is much wealth here, wealth enough to
+tempt any man. In fear of raiders I have sold most of my herds, as you
+know, and the money is here. And _El Lobo_ is bold and cunning.
+
+“Pablo, you have seen this Destino; what do you think of him? Is he
+only a loud laughing braggart, a man whose gun is for sale, or is he
+something else? Esteban mistrusts him, and Esteban is not one to see
+danger in a shadow.”
+
+“Why does Esteban mistrust him?” I asked. “Does he think that Destino is
+in any way connected with _El Lobo_?”
+
+“_Madre de Dios!_ That is an idea, Pablo! If _El Lobo_ had a man within
+the walls--And Destino laughed at Don Esteban’s message from _El Lobo_.
+It makes me wonder.”
+
+“But he says he came to kill _El Lobo_, señor.”
+
+“Quite naturally. Let us go down.”
+
+I did not know what Don Roberto meant to do, until he had instructed
+the other four gunmen to seize Destino, disarm him and lock him in a
+room of the sleeping quarters. Destino did not attempt a defense,
+when Don Roberto accused him of being a spy for _El Lobo_.
+
+Neither did he laugh. For once, it seemed that Destino did not see any
+humor in the situation. The room had but one small window, and the door
+was of heavy oak, fastened with a huge padlock, of which I had a key.
+
+Don Roberto seemed relieved after Destino was safely locked in the room.
+It was not a thing to be kept secret, and Juana heard of it. She came to
+me and I told her of what had been done.
+
+“Your father says that Destino is a spy for _El Lobo_,” I told her.
+
+“A spy for _El Lobo_? Oh, no, Pablo, that cannot be.”
+
+“Perhaps not, Juana. It is your father’s belief, and he is master here.”
+
+I know she did not believe Destino guilty, and what maid would after
+knowing the man and hearing him sing.
+
+“May I speak to him through the window?” she asked. “No one will know
+it, except you, Pablo.”
+
+“Not even I, Juana. It is not good to know too much.”
+
+I went about my duties, forgetting that she had conversed with the
+prisoner. And what passed between them through that deep, narrow hole
+of a window is no affair of mine, because an overseer’s duty is not
+that of eavesdropping.
+
+But _El Lobo_ did not get his silver pesos that day, and those who knew
+of his demand talked seriously over what would follow Don Roberto’s
+refusal to pay tribute.
+
+The four gunmen drank much tequila and quarreled over their card game,
+but seemed more at ease with Destino under lock and key. I spoke to him
+through the little window later on in the afternoon. I wished to find
+out what I could for Don Roberto.
+
+“Do you think _El Lobo_ will come here?” I asked him.
+
+“He promised, did he not, Pablo?”
+
+“But how can he expect to force his way in, Destino?”
+
+Destino laughed, “I alone know, Pablo. And they have locked me up and
+taken away my gun.”
+
+“And you know how he will get here?” I asked.
+
+“I can guess, my friend.”
+
+“Then you are a spy of _El Lobo_?”
+
+“Spy? No, Pablo; I am more than a spy.”
+
+Further than this he would not say. I went to Don Roberto and found
+him with Juana. I did not mean to listen, but the door was ajar. It
+seems that someone had seen her talking with Destino and reported it
+to Don Roberto, who was furious.
+
+“You have too much freedom,” he told her angrily. “I have allowed you
+to associate with everyone, to have your own way. And you come to plead
+for a spy! I find you talking with him--to a hired gunman, a killer. It
+is time you were married. Last night I refused Don Esteban’s suit and
+he rode away broken-hearted. But he said he would come again, and when
+he does----”
+
+“I shall not marry him,” said Juana firmly. “He is an old man.”
+
+“Old man? I am not an old man, and he is a year younger.”
+
+“But you are my father.”
+
+I slipped away and went to my own quarters, without telling Don Roberto
+what Destino had said. If Destino was more than a spy, what was he? He
+was not _El Lobo_. Men had seen _El Lobo_, and in spite of his mask they
+were able to see that the man was gray of hair. This was when he robbed
+only the rich, and men do not grow younger with the years.
+
+I do not know the outcome of the argument between Juana and her
+father, but I found her later, sitting on a vine-covered bench in an
+angle of the patio wall, crying. The sun was low in the west and the
+shadows of the patio walls had painted the Rancho del Aguila with a
+brush of softest blue. I did not speak until she had looked up at
+me.
+
+“Pablo,” she said wearily, “are you a friend?”
+
+“A friend, Juana? Did you ever question my friendship?”
+
+She shook her head. “I do not want to, Pablo. You have been more like
+one of the family than a servant, and I know you are loyal to my
+father.”
+
+“I am, Juana,” I replied.
+
+She got up from the bench and came closer to me.
+
+“Pablo, my father has forbidden me to speak to Destino again. He says
+I shall marry Don Esteban. And listen closely, Pablo: I overheard
+those four men talking--the ones who carry guns all the time. Tonight
+when food is taken to Destino, the door will be left unlocked. Do you
+know what that means, Pablo?”
+
+I knew. When the prisoner walked out he would be shot and killed.
+
+“Is this your father’s order, Juana?” I asked.
+
+“I do not know, Pablo.”
+
+“And why do you wish to save him? If this man is a spy of _El Lobo_, he
+deserves death. And what is he to you, the daughter of a Don?”
+
+As if in answer to my question came Destino’s voice, singing through the
+little window of his cell. The Rancho del Aguila was stilled. Even the
+mockingbirds ceased calling, “Peter, Peter, Peter,” while he sang. A
+little sheepdog puppy, which had been chasing its tail for many minutes,
+stopped suddenly and sat up on its haunches, one ear cocked toward the
+sound of the song.
+
+The song died away and I looked at Juana. Her eyes were lifted toward
+the purple of the setting sun, a smile on her lips. Just now she was
+not at the Rancho del Aguila.
+
+I moved softly away, leaving her there alone. I went to the kitchen,
+where Rufo, a man of great girth, presided over his pots and pans. He
+scowled at me, because not even an overseer might give him an order.
+
+“I but come to beg a favor, Rufo,” I told him. He tugged at his
+mustachio and considered me more kindly, nodding slowly.
+
+“We have a prisoner,” I said. “They say he is a spy of _El Lobo_. If
+any come to get food for him before everyone else is fed, refuse them,
+Rufo.”
+
+“That is not a big favor, Pablo,” he said. “It is granted.”
+
+I thanked him and went away. It would be mealtime in a few minutes.
+Already the men were preparing. Juana whispered to me, as I passed
+beneath a low balcony----
+
+“Pablo, are you a friend?”
+
+“When they are eating,” I whispered. “It is a fool’s task, and there is
+no place for him to hide; so I will send him here.”
+
+I knew what it would mean to play false with Don Roberto, but I am
+not a young man, and what is a few years, more or less? And when the
+patio was empty, I unlocked the door and let him out. He gripped my
+hand, when I told him where to go, after which I secured an iron bar
+and managed to draw the heavy staple from the door. It was a clumsy
+attempt at making it appear that Destino had escaped, because the
+man never lived who could force it from within.
+
+Then I went to my meal, listening for the first alarm, which would brand
+me a traitor. Benito, who had charge of the stables, carried the other
+key, and he was always the first at table, which would absolve him of
+all guilt.
+
+It was possibly an hour later that the escape was discovered. The moon
+had not yet risen and the night was dark, except for the stars. There
+was great excitement. The guards had been changed, as soon as the night
+guards had eaten their supper.
+
+Don Roberto swore bitterly and questioned the day guards, who must have
+been on duty during the escape, but they swore that nothing had passed
+the gate or the walls. Don Roberto examined the lock, and by the light
+of the lantern I could see his lips shut tightly.
+
+You may be sure that I kept in the background, realizing that I could
+not lie to him.
+
+“The man has been released,” declared Don Roberto. “He is within these
+walls, possibly armed. He is a spy of _El Lobo_, and deserves no mercy.
+Light all the lanterns. We must take this man, dead or alive.”
+
+There was great scurrying, as the men brought lanterns and guns. I
+wondered where Destino was hiding, and it was in my mind to leave the
+rancho. After all, a man has only one life. I made my way to the far
+end of the patio, watching the bobbing lanterns, as the searching
+party began their work. They split in two parties and the lanterns
+threw their shadows in grotesque shapes on the walls. There was much
+loud talking and calling from one to another, as though trying to
+bolster their own feelings. Destino had killed Sleen with his bare
+hands, and was no mean opponent for all of them.
+
+For several minutes I leaned against the wall of a building. I could
+see the silhouette of a guard on the wall, standing in an attitude of
+attention. Suddenly he swayed slowly, and I thought he was about to
+fall.
+
+Then he went slowly to his knees, and I thought he was but lowering
+himself from some danger without. A moment later I heard the thud of a
+falling body, and the space on the wall where he had stood was empty.
+
+I ran across the patio and found him lying near the wall, crumpled in
+a heap, his gun flung aside. His heart was still beating, but the man
+was unconscious. I ran back to the center of the patio, not knowing
+just what to do.
+
+The other guard was on his hands and knees, striving to cling to the
+wall. I called his name, but he did not answer. Then he slumped forward
+and fell to the ground. He, too, was unconscious.
+
+In a flash it came to me that someone had poisoned the guards. I forgot
+the escape of Destino, as I raced for the house to sound an alarm. The
+searchers were grouped in the central room, which was hazy with oil
+smoke.
+
+“He is in this house,” declared Don Roberto. “Two of you guard the
+stairs, while the rest of us search up there.”
+
+Upstairs were the rooms of Don Roberto and Señora Aliso and of Juana.
+Two of the four gunmen stopped at the foot of the stairs, while the rest
+surged ahead. I tried to reach Don Roberto, but there were too many men,
+and the stairs were narrow.
+
+By the time I had managed to reach the upper floor, search had been
+partly made. Over the heads of the crowd I could see Juana, a
+pale-faced, white-robed figure, standing against the door of her room,
+arms outstretched, as though forbidding them to enter her room.
+
+But Don Roberto shoved her roughly aside and flung the door open.
+Bending low and shoving with all my strength, I managed to worm my way
+through the crowd, many of whom cursed me for walking on their feet,
+and reach the doorway.
+
+Don Roberto was just inside the room, one hand clinging to the sleeve of
+Juana, while in the center of the room, a grim smile on his lips, stood
+Destino. A revolver butt protruded from the waistband of his trousers,
+but he made no move to draw it.
+
+“You are not only a spy, but a cowardly spy,” declared Don Roberto.
+“Hiding in the room of the señorita.”
+
+“Don Roberto!” I fairly yelled in his ear. “Listen to me, I implore
+you.”
+
+He whirled on me.
+
+“Listen to you--you traitor! You let this man escape, Pablo. There were
+only two keys, and I took one from Benito when we locked this man in his
+cell. Your case will be judged later.”
+
+“But Don Roberto, the guards--” And this is as far as I got. He struck
+me full in the face, knocking me down.
+
+I was not unconscious, but badly dazed, and I do not know exactly what
+happened for the next few moments. I seemed to hear a shout, a babel of
+voices, a shrill command. It was like the sounds one hears in a dream.
+
+Then the mists faded away and I came back to reality. Don Roberto was
+backed against the wall, and a man was holding a rifle muzzle against
+his body. Another had an arm flung around Juana, holding her tightly.
+
+Standing just inside the doorway was a tall man, dressed in black
+garments, trimmed in silver. His sombrero was also of black, and a
+black silk mask concealed his face and throat.
+
+In his right hand he dangled a heavy revolver, as he looked around
+through the eye-holes of his mask.
+
+“So you decided not to pay, Don Roberto,” he said. His voice was husky,
+as though with a bad cold. “I have come to teach you obedience. Tonight
+I take everything of value at the Rancho del Aguila. Perhaps it will
+serve as a warning to others that _El Lobo_ keeps his word.”
+
+My eyes flashed to Destino, who still stood in the same position,
+although he was not smiling now. His elbow covered the butt of his
+revolver.
+
+“Are you _El Lobo_?” asked Destino.
+
+The eyes behind the mask studied him thoughtfully.
+
+“I am _El Lobo_.”
+
+“You lie.” It was not said in anger, it seemed, nor was Destino’s voice
+raised.
+
+_El Lobo’s_ body stiffened.
+
+“You dare to say that to me?” he questioned.
+
+“_El Lobo_ is dead,” said Destino. “He has been dead for two years. And
+you killed him.”
+
+“Who are you?” _El Lobo’s_ voice came in a tense whisper.
+
+“Destino--fate--you murderer!”
+
+As swift as the blinking of an eye, Destino’s arm twisted at the elbow
+and a spurt of flame leaped from his revolver straight at _El Lobo_. I
+blinked my eyes again and _El Lobo_ was sprawling toward the floor.
+Twice more the orange-colored flame leaped from the gun muzzle, and I
+saw two more men go down--the one who had held the rifle against Don
+Roberto and the one who had held Juana.
+
+Destino leaped for the door, and I saw him pick up the gun of the man
+who had called himself _El Lobo_. Then he was gone, leaping down the
+stairs.
+
+I staggered to my feet, choking from the powder fumes. Don Roberto had
+taken Juana in his arms and was staring down at the dead men.
+
+“His mask, Pablo!” exclaimed Don Roberto hoarsely. “Take it off!”
+
+Stooping over, I tore the mask from his face, disclosing the features of
+Don Esteban Carillo! Don Roberto cried out sharply, because Don Esteban
+had been his friend.
+
+“The guards were poisoned,” I told Don Roberto. “I tried to tell you,
+but you struck the words from my mouth.”
+
+“Forgive me, Pablo,” he said, whispering his words, as though afraid
+that the dead might hear. “I have been a fool. The gunmen were in the
+pay of Esteban.”
+
+“And they poisoned the guards tonight,” I said.
+
+We went slowly down the stairway, not knowing what was taking place
+down below. One of the gunmen sprawled on the steps and Don Roberto
+lifted Juana over him.
+
+Out in the patio we found another gunman, dead. Destino was standing
+against the wall, an empty gun in each hand, a laugh on his lips. The
+forces of Don Esteban, of which there were few left, were far off
+across the hills, riding for their lives.
+
+Destino came to Juana and held out his hands.
+
+“One who trusted me,” he said slowly. “I will never forget.”
+
+“And there was Pablo,” she said softly.
+
+“Ah, yes. Pablo. But it was for your sake, señorita.”
+
+“And I can only ask forgiveness,” said Don Roberto humbly. “It is still
+a mystery, Destino.”
+
+“_El Lobo_ was killed two years ago,” said Destino. “The man who killed
+him took his name, and made it a thing of execration. _El Lobo_ was not
+a murderer. He stole from the rich and gave most of it to the poor and
+to the church; keeping only enough to gratify his one great desire in
+life.
+
+“For a year I have searched for this man who wore a false name. Always
+he has baffled me. But like fate I have followed him to his finish. I
+suspected Don Esteban. No man may lose as he has lost at gambling and
+still retain his El Sicomoro.
+
+“I came to Santa Clemente and I saw Sleen. I knew him to be a cutthroat,
+and when I found that he was guarding you from _El Lobo_, I suspected
+that he was in the employ of _El Lobo_. The very fact that this rancho
+was inaccessible to attack, told me that it would be accomplished from
+within.
+
+“And when those messages, attached to stones, were found in the patio, I
+knew I was right. They were placed there by Don Esteban or his men; one
+for Don Esteban, to cause him to share equally with you.”
+
+“And that is why you laughed?” asked Don Roberto.
+
+“I laughed,” said Destino softly, “because after all these months, I
+was about to revenge the death of my father, who had been a thief that
+I might study voice under the best teachers of Spain.”
+
+And now I knew why he was more than a spy for _El Lobo_. He was a son of
+The Wolf. Somehow, like shadows drifting away, the men followed Don
+Roberto back to the house, leaving Juana, Destino and myself alone there
+in the patio. I do not know why I stayed, because it was not a business
+that needed an overseer. But I felt that I had had a part in it, and I
+was too glad to go away.
+
+They were looking at each other, saying nothing. It seemed as though
+they were going to stare at each other forever; so I said, “Destino,
+they are all gone.”
+
+“Except my friend, Pablo,” he said softly.
+
+So I went away, too.
+
+
+[Transcriber’s note: This story appeared in the June 25, 1925 issue
+of _Short Stories_ magazine.]
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78217 ***