Kitabı oku: «The Coast of Adventure», sayfa 15

It got cooler, and a faint, earthy smell crept in through the windows. Now and then the lamp flickered in a passing draught, and once or twice they forced themselves to talk, but the effort was obvious and the voices presently died away. After this the quietness became oppressive, and by degrees Walthew grew drowsy. Rousing himself, he felt ashamed as he glanced at the girl. She did not move, but her pose was tense, and he knew that she was watchful. He resented the craving for sleep when she was bearing a heavy strain, but he had traveled fast since he left the lagoon and his exhausted body demanded rest.

He would not give in, and at last he started as a faint throbbing sound reached him from outside. It came from a long way off, but grew plainer, and he saw Father Agustin lean forward. Then Blanca stood up with a tinge of color in her face and a tightening of her lips. Somebody was riding hard down the road. There was a shout and a sharp answer.

For a few moments the three stood waiting with forced calm, and then a man hurriedly entered.

"Pepe is here, señor," he announced.

"Ah!" said Father Agustin quietly. "Bring him in." He turned to Walthew. "It is one of our men who watched the other road. Something has gone wrong."

Walthew saw Blanca's expression change. Although she had meant to get the despatches, he knew she felt relieved.

Pepe entered. His face was wet with perspiration and he spoke with a breathless quickness that prevented Walthew's following what he said. Still, it was plain that his news was bad, for his manner was apologetic, and Father Agustin looked thoughtful.

"Wait outside; we may want you," he said and turned to Walthew after dismissing the fellow. "The messenger must have been suspicious and our men have blundered. It was very dark and he came upon them suddenly. One was shot as he seized the mule and the messenger escaped before they could mount, but he was forced to turn back."

"Could he pass them by making a round?"

"It is not likely. There is this road and the other, with thick forest between, and both are guarded. The man must wait for daylight, and I do not think he will reach Rio Frio. We may turn this to your advantage, but it needs thought."

He sat down and lighted a cigarette, and Walthew waited in silence until he looked up.

"It is possible that Gomez will offer your comrade his liberty in exchange for information he can use against Don Martin."

"Grahame will give him none," Walthew answered emphatically.

"Then I imagine he is in some danger. You would take a risk to rescue him?"

"Of course!"

"Very well. Gomez is waiting for instructions and probably knows that the messenger is a foreigner. I suggest that you impersonate him. The guards will let you pass, and Gomez will, no doubt, receive you alone. Then you must try to extort an order for your friend's release."

"I'm a pretty good shot," said Walthew meaningly. "I might get him covered before I begin."

Father Agustin made a sign of impatience.

"Your best argument will be this – if you are detained for more than a few minutes, there will be a tumult in the town. Gomez will hesitate about forcing a rising before he gets his orders. Then as soon as you enter the house some of our people will find an excuse for loitering about the door. The soldiers are not well drilled; it might not be difficult to surprise and disarm the sentry, and then the house could be seized. For all that, there is a risk. Success will depend upon your nerve and coolness."

"I can't think of any better plan," said Walthew.

Blanca gave him a quick glance, and he thrilled as he saw a hint of trouble in her face. He thought she was unwilling that he should run into danger, but the next moment her eyes sparkled.

"It will work!" she said. "I am coming to help!"

Walthew made a sign of protest, but she would not let him speak.

"I promised to get the despatches, and the messenger may arrive while you are with Gomez. Then somebody must make arrangements for the door to be watched, and I am known in Rio Frio. I can find trustworthy men." She raised her hand imperiously. "You need not object, señor. I am going!"

Walthew was forced to acquiesce, and an hour afterward they left the hacienda and rode through the dark bush with two well-armed men behind them.

CHAPTER XXIX
THE PRESIDIO

The sun hung low in the western sky, with a peak of the black cordillera cutting its lower edge, and Rio Frio shone in the glaring light. Seen from the road across the valley, the town had an ethereal look, for the tiers of square, white houses rose from a gulf of shadow and clustered upon the hillside, glimmering with a pearly luster, picked out by clumps of green. Behind were barren slopes, deepening in color to dusky purple as they ran back to the foot of the mountain wall.

Walthew pulled up his mule and sat gazing at the town. He had been riding beside Blanca, while Father Agustin and two others followed at some distance.

"Five minutes ago you could hardly see the place against the background and now it glows as if it were lighted up inside," he remarked. "Looks more like an enchanted palace than a collection of adobe houses. One could imagine that some magician had suddenly conjured it up."

"I'm afraid there's not much enchantment in Rio Frio," Blanca answered. "It's very prosaic and rather dirty."

"Well, I don't know," said Walthew, looking boldly at her. "I'm not given to romantic sentiment, but something very strange happened to me one night in your town. Must have been glamour in the air, for I've been a changed man ever since. You wouldn't expect a matter-of-fact American, who was on the hunt for money, to trail round the country trying to act like Garibaldi, unless he was bewitched."

Blanca smiled prettily.

"You have, at least, chosen to follow a great example, señor."

"I don't think I chose him," Walthew returned dryly. "I'd have looked for somebody easier."

"But you were free to give up the part if you found it too hard for you."

"No; that's the trouble. I wasn't free."

The girl knew that he was not talking at random to hide nervousness. There was an underlying gravity in his manner and she secretly thrilled to it. Although he still wore the dirty bandage and was dusty and unkempt, she thought he had a very gallant air. His eyes were bright and intent, and his thin face was very resolute. The faint smile with which he regarded her somehow emphasized his determined, highstrung look.

"Señor," she said, "it is better to aim high. Achievement is not everything; the effort counts, and it is a generous errand you go upon to-night. But we will talk of something else. Look; there is the house where I spent the only happy years I can remember, until my father heard the call of duty once more and obeyed. Higher up, you can see the green gap of the alameda; beyond it the church of San Sebastian." She paused for a moment with a shiver. "The white line beneath it is the top of the presidio, where Gomez lives. But the light fades quickly, and now, see – everything has gone."

The sun had sunk behind the cordillera, and the white town, changing suddenly to gray, melted out of sight as the shadows rolled up the hillside.

"You must see that it's enchanted," Walthew remarked. "The magician has waved his wand and blotted it out."

"It will shine again to-morrow," Blanca answered in a quiet voice. "The shadows have long rested on this country of ours, but one looks for the dawn."

The others were close behind them, but the party was smaller than it had been. Ragged men with dark, determined faces had been picked up on the way, but it would excite suspicion if they entered Rio Frio in a body, and they had separated during the last hour. Walthew did not know what their orders were, but he thought they would act upon some plan already made if he failed to secure Grahame's release; and Blanca presently bore this conclusion out.

"You will not be left unsupported, but it will be better if you can make Gomez set your comrade free without our help," she said. "We do not wish to strike the first blow to-night, but if it is needful, the presidio will be attacked. Gomez's position is like ours: he is not quite ready to force a conflict. You see how that strengthens your hand. He cannot altogether trust his soldiers, and a shot would rouse the town." Her voice sounded rather strained as she concluded: "But if you are careful, the shot will not be fired. Gomez is cruel, but he is a coward, and will give way if you use moral force."

"It's a big thing," Walthew answered thoughtfully. "Still, I must put it over somehow. I have to get my partner out."

Darkness fell before they reached Rio Frio, and Blanca stopped her mule on the outskirts of the town.

"We must separate here," she said. "I do not think the entrance is carefully guarded, because it is not Gomez's policy to admit that an attack is possible, but there may be spies, and a rural or two on watch." She paused and held out her hand. "I wish you good fortune, señor, and I do not think your nerve will fail, but if the worst comes, we will not leave you in Gomez's power."

Walthew, bending down, kissed her hand and then lifted his hat.

"Until I see you again, señorita," he said and quietly rode on.

There was no moon and the air was still. The town rose before him, vague and shadowy, with a faint musky smell drifting out from it. As he reached the first of the houses, a wave of heat, rising from the rough pavement, surrounded him. The walls looked blank, for there were no lights behind the lattices, but a ray of brightness fell across the street a short distance in front. As he crossed the illuminated strip a man in white uniform stepped forward and seized his bridle.

"Who comes?" he asked, looking hard at Walthew's face.

"A messenger for the secretario."

"Pass, friend," said the other, letting go the bridle.

Walthew rode on, but checked the mule as soon as he was out of sight. It looked as if he had been expected, but he had been warned that he must give the revolutionaries time to communicate with their friends in the city. They might have some trouble in entering it, although he believed they meant to do so through the house of some sympathizer on the outskirts. When he turned a corner he stopped to listen, but heard nothing behind him, and the street in front was quiet. It seemed that nobody had been sent to announce his arrival, and he could proceed slowly without rousing suspicion.

Leaving the direct line, he wound in and out through narrow streets, the mule's shoes clanging on the hot stones. He passed one or two dimly lighted cafés where men, roused by the clatter, looked up, their figures showing indistinct about the small tables between the pillars. Farther on, shadowy groups were sitting close together on the pavement, and though their voices were quiet they had somehow an air of excitement. Men appeared and vanished in the gloom, moving softly and quickly, as if afraid of loitering. There was a mysterious hint of tension about all that Walthew saw, and he felt his heart beat as he rode on.

Crossing the plaza, he dismounted at the hotel he had previously visited, and sent for the majordomo when the hostler grumbled something about the stable's being full.

"You will remember me," he said. "I want to leave my mule here and perhaps spend the night."

"I am sorry, but we have no room; there are a number of strangers in the town. They are not so full at the Golden Fleece."

"I'd rather stay here if I have to wait until to-morrow," Walthew answered. "You take care of the mules well, and I may have a long ride. Then one puts up at a place one knows, with more – confidence."

The majordomo looked hard at him.

"We must try to make room, señor, since you have – confidence."

"Exactly," said Walthew, smiling. "Now I want the mule fed but not unsaddled. I may perhaps need it in an hour, and it would be an advantage if you could find me another."

"It might be possible," the majordomo replied in a thoughtful tone. "Still, there are spies about and they may watch this house. With permission, I will send the mule to Ramon Silva in the calle Pinastro. He is a carrier, and it is known that he buys pack-animals; he will have both mules ready, if you ask for them with confidence."

Walthew thanked the man and set off for the presidio. It was a long, square-fronted building with a sentry-box at the entrance, and an untidy soldier sat smoking outside. Another stood a little farther on in a slouching attitude, a rifle raking across his shoulder and his kepis tilted to one side. Discipline is seldom marked among Spanish-American soldiers, but Walthew was somewhat surprised to note that the fellow was bantering a group of loiterers. They were dressed like peons, and one carried a tray of sweetmeats and another a quantity of cigarettes, apparently for sale. As Walthew passed, the former hurriedly moved his tray, as if to prevent its being upset.

"Be careful, señor!" he exclaimed, giving Walthew a warning glance.

Walthew understood it. The men were not there by accident, and he saw that one was within leaping distance of the sentry. He knew that the Spanish knife is almost as dangerous as the rifle at close quarters; and can, moreover, be thrown a short distance with effect.

"I have a message for the secretario," he told the sentry with a careless air.

The man let him pass, and he saw that he was expected when a dusky steward met him at the door. Since the despatch-carrier was known to be a foreigner, it was easy to enter the presidio, but he wondered what would happen before he left. Now that the dangerous game was about to begin, he clearly recognized the risk he ran. For all that, it looked as if he held the trump cards, and he hoped that he had nerve enough to play them well. Pulling himself together, he followed his guide across the patio and up an outer stair, until the man stopped and knocked at a door.

"The messenger, señor," he announced.

Walthew held his breath until he heard the door shut behind him; then he turned to Gomez, who had risen from his seat at a table. It was a small room and the table stood between the men. Walthew felt his nerves tingle and his skin grow damp with perspiration as Gomez looked at him. There was surprise in the secretary's face and he seemed puzzled, as if he were trying to revive a memory.

"You are not the man we were told would come, but I think I have seen you somewhere," he said.

Walthew stood still, his hand in his jacket pocket, as if about to take the despatches from it.

"The other messenger was detained, but we have met. I once dined at your table at the International, in Havana."

Gomez gave him a quick, suspicious glance.

"Then there is something I do not understand, but it is not important now. You bring the President's orders?"

"No; I bring this."

He took his hand from his pocket and the barrel of an automatic pistol glinted in the light.

Gomez flinched, but recovered his calm with a quickness that showed Walthew he had a dangerous antagonist.

"Push your chair back from that open drawer and then keep still!" he ordered.

Gomez obeyed, and Walthew sat down on the edge of the table, where, if necessary, he could spring up more quickly than from a chair. Besides, the position helped him to keep both Gomez and the door in sight.

"You are uselessly dramatic, señor," Gomez remarked with a forced sneer. "You dare not use the pistol, and I am not to be frightened by so cheap a trick."

Walthew did not put down the weapon.

"Rather stale, but it has served its purpose by stopping you from calling out, and that's all I wanted to begin with. Now I'm going to show you how we stand."

"Your position strikes me as very weak."

"Well," said Walthew coolly, "I don't know. There are some chances in my favor."

"Not many, I think. A shot or a call from me would lead to your immediate arrest."

Walthew lowered the pistol.

"I'm not going to shoot and you won't call. One of your sentries is smoking cigarettes, with a wiry liberator ready to put his knife into him, and something would happen to the other before he could throw up his rifle. Then, a number of my friends are waiting to seize the gate."

"What would they gain? They could not hold the building. In a few minutes the soldiers would arrive."

"Just so. Still, they'd have a few minutes, and there's reason for believing they're not fond of you. Then, I don't mean to be made a prisoner and, if I'm forced to, I'll shoot straight."

This was not an idle threat. Walthew's nerves were steady, and he felt a rancorous hatred of the man. He had been guilty of unspeakable cruelties, he had carried off an American girl, and he now had Grahame in his power. Walthew's face was pale, but his lips were firmly set, and there was an ominous gleam in his eyes. Gomez began to grow uneasy.

"However," Walthew went on, "the important point is that the first shot starts the revolution. My friends won't have much trouble with the sentries at the door, but if your soldiers try to break in afterward, it will rouse the town. You may take this for granted, because you must see that I'd make sure of being supported outside before I ventured here."

Gomez pondered. The American's position was certainly strong. The lad was not a rash fool, and his having made the venture proved his statement about the likelihood of a revolution to be correct; moreover, Gomez had other reasons for not questioning it. As he looked up, Walthew made a warning gesture and Gomez heard footsteps outside.

"Don't move!" said Walthew in a low, tense voice. "If that fellow comes in it will make trouble for both of us. You'd better think how you're going to keep him out!"

The secretary's lips twitched, but he sat motionless. The steps drew nearer, echoing down the passage; in another moment the man outside would reach the door. Walthew held his breath; but the steps continued and passed. Then they grew fainter, and Walthew saw his antagonist's pose relax; the strain had told on him. Gomez was weakening and the game was nearly won.

"What do you want?" the secretary asked.

"An order for Grahame's release."

"Impossible! My signature would make me responsible to the President."

"You'll take a bigger responsibility if you refuse; the men I left waiting will begin the trouble if I'm not outside very soon. You haven't got your master's orders yet, and the liberators have headed his messenger off. I guess you'll have to answer for it if you spoil his plans. Remember you'll have to face a revolution unless you let Grahame out."

Gomez was silent for a few moments and then made a sign of acquiescence.

"Very well," he said, and pulling his chair to the table began to write. Then he gave Walthew the paper. "Are you satisfied?"

"Not quite," said Walthew, glancing over the message. "Ring for one of your men and send it off with this note." He handed both papers to Gomez. "Order him to deliver them at once!"

When the man came in, Walthew was sitting carelessly in a chair, as if nothing unusual had been going on. His right hand, however, was gripping the pistol in his jacket pocket.

"I'll wait here for five minutes to give him a start. Seems to me that would be safer," he said when the orderly had left them.

He was relieved when he thought he could get up, for the strain had been heavy, and he was feeling rather limp, but he walked steadily to the door and did not quicken his steps until he reached the stairs. It was with tingling nerves that he came to the outer gate; but the sentries let him pass, and when he had gone a short distance, three or four peons who were hanging about turned and followed him. He was outside in the friendly darkness, but he had still to leave the town.

CHAPTER XXX
THE ESCAPE

Walthew waited for the peons, and then turned toward calle Pinastro, where he had arranged to meet Grahame. He had now three companions whom he thought he could trust, but they were unarmed, except for their knives. Gomez had sent the order for Grahame's release, but if he could rearrest him and seize Walthew without causing a tumult, he would do so. They had only five or six minutes' start. It did not look as if they could get out of the town in time, and Walthew felt fiercely impatient. For all that, he stopped at the corner of a street when one of the others touched him.

There was a lighted café near by, and a girl stood on the pavement near its open front. She was dressed very plainly in white, with a dark shawl fastened round her head, like a peasant girl, but he felt a sudden thrill as she turned toward him. Although he could not see her very well, he knew it was Blanca. When he cautiously crossed the street she drew him back into the shadow, but he saw her look of relief.

"You have succeeded!" she said softly. "Where is Mr. Grahame?"

"I am to meet him at Ramon Silva's."

"You cannot go this way; there are two rurales farther on. But it would be dangerous to turn back now."

She put her hand on his arm, as if to detain him while she considered what to do, and Walthew looked about, knowing that he could trust her knowledge of the town. The street was narrow and dark except where the light from the café shone across it. A few citizens sat round the small tables, and several shadowy figures loitered in the gloom outside. Walthew thought they had come with the girl, but there was nothing in their attitude to suggest that they had any particular business in the neighborhood, and his own followers had stopped at the corner.

Suddenly a clatter of hoofs broke out. Some one was riding fast toward them. Walthew felt Blanca's hand tighten warningly on his arm as she drew back a pace or two. The sound grew louder; there was a hoarse shout like a sentry's challenge, and an answer which Walthew imagined satisfied the rurales on guard; and then a mounted man rode into the stream of light.

The mule was foul with sweat and dust, and a trickle of blood ran down its shoulder; the rider's face was pale and set. Walthew's eyes rested on him for only a second, but he knew the fellow was English or American. There was an angry cry in the background, and a stealthy figure, outlined against a blank, white wall, crossed the street. The mounted man was obviously the President's messenger; but Walthew, having seen his grim, tired look, and the way he drove the worn-out mule furiously down the street, felt a touch of half-admiring sympathy. After all, the fellow was white, and was gallantly doing what he had undertaken.

A moment more and Walthew saw something glisten in the hand of the stealthy figure that seemed ready to spring. He was only a yard away and, acting on impulse, he stumbled as if by accident and fell against the man. The knife dropped with a jingle, and the messenger dashed past, throwing Walthew a quick glance as he went.

An angry murmur broke out, and several of the loiterers closed in on Walthew, while men left the café to see what was going on, and there were quick footsteps farther off in the gloom. Remembering the need for haste and that Grahame might be in danger, Walthew half regretted his rashness, but as he wondered what to do Blanca ran to his side.

"The rurales are coming!" she shouted; and the men about them vanished as she led him away.

They turned a corner into a lane between dark houses.

"Why did you interfere?" she asked breathlessly.

"I don't know. Felt I had to," Walthew answered with some embarrassment.

"But you know who he is!"

"Yes; he's carrying the despatches. Still, he looked played out and he had got through."

"Through your friends!"

"I suppose so. It didn't seem to make much difference. Guess I've been foolish."

"You were generous, but generosity of that kind must be paid for," Blanca answered in a hard tone. "It will cost our people something, and, now that Gomez has got his orders, I don't know that we can leave the town."

"Grahame and I must find a way. But you'd be safer without us. I can't let you run into needless danger."

Blanca laughed.

"Do you think I would leave you to get into fresh difficulties? With a temperament like yours, you're not to be trusted alone."

"I handled Gomez pretty well," Walthew boasted.

"And you still wear the bandage he saw you with! Is it safe to take it off?"

"I'd forgotten it," he admitted.

He threw the bandage into the lane with some annoyance, for the girl seemed amused, but she made no remark until they reached a quiet street.

"Well," she said, "perhaps I can excuse you to the others, who haven't deserted us. But we turn down here and you had better go a few yards in front."

Following the directions she gave him, he presently crossed a square and entered a street where a dim light burned. A man stood near it in a careless pose, smoking a cigarette, and Walthew's heart beat fast as he saw him.

"Grahame!" he said; and the next moment he was shaking his comrade's hand.

"Got your note," said Grahame. "Thought I'd better wait here. Silva can't let us have the mules."

Walthew understood his brevity: there was no time for questions and explanations.

Grahame took off his hat as Blanca joined them.

"I must see Silva. Wait in the shadow," she said, and moved quickly away.

The men stood silent. They had much to say, but it would keep, and the means of escaping from the town occupied their minds. The street was deserted and seemed strangely quiet after the girl's footsteps died away, but indistinct cries came across the flat roofs as if something were happening. Walthew looked about sharply in tense impatience, but could see nothing, and Blanca did not return. At last, however, she came silently toward them through the gloom.

"It is impossible for Silva to give us the mules," she said. "The Government has seized all he has, and two rurales guard the stable."

"Then we must try to get away on foot," Grahame replied. "Would you be safer, señorita, if you got some of your friends to hide you?"

"No," she said; "I must take my father some news I have picked up, and Gomez will leave no place unsearched when he learns that I have been here. I think we shall be out of danger if we can reach a house I know."

They went down the street, quickly but silently, and as they turned the corner a man sprang out from the gloom beside a wall and immediately afterward disappeared. A few moments later they heard a whistle, and Blanca led the men into a narrow lane.

"It is off our way, and we must run!" she said.

She shook off Walthew when he tried to take her arm; and they had gone some distance before they heard footsteps behind them. The pursuers did not seem to gain much ground, but when they slipped round a corner somebody shouted, and the girl sped across the square they had entered. A little farther on, they heard a heavier tread on the uneven stones.

"Rurales!" Grahame whispered.

Blanca turned off quickly and led them through an archway into a street where there was a café, which, to Walthew's surprise, she made for. The pursuers had not come out from the archway yet, and the party, falling into a slower pace before they reached the café, went in and sat down calmly at one of the tables. As usual, the front of the café was open to the pavement, separated from it by only a row of pillars. A few men sat inside and glanced curiously at the newcomers, but they made no remark.

"A bottle of vermouth, as soon as you can!" Grahame said to the landlord.

The fellow gave him a quick glance, and then his eyes rested for a moment on the girl; but he did not delay, and was coming back with some glasses when several barefooted men and two others in uniform ran down the street. Grahame had taken up a newspaper, but he watched them over it without turning his head; Walthew pushed his chair back carelessly into the shadow; and Blanca played with a gaudy fan. The men did not look into the café, but the landlord, after quietly filling the glasses, put down the bottle with a meaning smile.

"They may come back," he said, and moved away.

Walthew was about to get up, but Blanca coquettishly tapped him with her fan and, taking the hint, he sat still; they must drink some of the vermouth before they left. He drained his glass, and insisted on refilling the girl's. Blanca protested laughingly, but Grahame saw that she held her fan so that it hid her face from the other customers. She was playing her part well. Still, he thought that Walthew, knowing less of Spanish conventions, did not understand how daring she was. When Grahame's eyes rested on her she blushed and quickly turned her head.

"It seems you have a number of supporters in the town," he remarked in a low voice.

"Yes," she said; "you are thinking of the landlord's hint. We hope at least half the people are on our side… But we can venture out in a minute or two."

She raised her glass, smiling at Walthew, and then hummed a song until she got up and, standing in front of a dirty mirror, began to arrange the black mantilla that covered her head. Her pose and movements were marked by rakish coquetry, and Grahame saw they had deceived the loungers; but he noticed with a touch of dry amusement that Walthew looked puzzled and not quite pleased.

"Now, señores," she said loudly in Castilian, "you have had wine enough and must not keep me waiting."

She went out in front of them, flaunting her fan, but when they reached the pavement her manner changed, and her voice was strained as she whispered:

"Follow me close, but quickly! There is no time to lose!"

They were not molested as they crossed the town, but when they neared its outskirts, Blanca left the road that led to the open country and plunged into a network of narrow streets. At last she stopped in front of a large but dilapidated looking house and, knocking twice, waited a few moments until her summons was answered. There was no light inside, and she exchanged a word with a half-seen person at the door before the party was admitted. The door was shut and bolted, and they were led into an inner room where a small lamp burned, and a woman with a frightened face confronted them.

"The road is stopped, and you must go at once before the house is searched!" she said excitedly.