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diff --git a/78217-0.txt b/78217-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c25d8be --- /dev/null +++ b/78217-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,906 @@ +*** 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 *** |