The next thing needed in my calculations was time. My three-day vacation ended Monday; I had to have an extension or a sure thing on another, shortly. I was ready to throw up my job, but I felt it wouldn't come to that, likely, so I pulled for home and Jim.
At the store Pedro told me Jim had been there yesterday afternoon, but left at once in no pleasant frame of mind. Pedro didn't know where he had gone. Took out toward the east, riding fast.
I didn't know what to do. If I went after him, it was likely I'd miss him; if I waited, he mightn't be around again for days.
"What ailed him, Pede?" I asked.
"That is that which I am not to know," says Pedro. "He cuss and swear mos' fiercily. He also es-strike one strangerhombrewho has been here making conversation with the workers.Si, he strike heem verree strong, so that the stranger does not know anything for one hour. He also say he will to shoot that stranger if he put the foot on thees groun' again. The men that are there make protestation and Señor Holton say, 'You are fools.' And Pepe, the large one, say, 'I am not a fool,' and Señor Holton say, 'No—you are a jackass,' and Pepe say, 'You have abused us much.' I am astonish to hear that, for of all men I have seen none is so kind to the people as Señor Holton; and I am moved to say, 'Pepe, you lie!' He thereupon strike me at the nose, as you see. I say,'Pepe, you may strike my nose, but that does not make you not a liar—a liar is what you are.' And Señor Holton say, 'Mind them not, Pedro, you are an honest man; but now I shall to abuse them for the fair if I do hear one cheep,' and he draw out his peestol and say, 'Yap, you coyotes! Let me hear you!' and there is such silence that one may hear his heart. Then Señor Holton say to me, 'Pedro, this is bad business. Mind the store the best you can—I must ride. If they come at you h'run away—I do not care for these goods, and you have spoken up like a man.'" Pedro smote himself upon the lung with his clenched fist. "H'run I shall not," says he. "Thees store can only be obtain by making the es-step over my corpsey."
"Corpsey" sounded kind of frivolous for the occasion. However, underneath all the rolling eye and fine large gestures, the sand of the little man lay strong. I didn't understand the racket at all, but I knew it meant business or Jim would never have taken such a stand.
"Why didn't you tell me this first, Pedro?" I asked. "I might have gone away and left you alone."
"That was what I try to weesh," said he. "For you are young, and there is life before you. These are b-a-a-d fallows, these; if they keel Pedro, eet ees no harm, but you have been kin' to me, and I do not weesh you hurt. So I say, I shall let him go; they mus' not harm Beel; and then I feel so verree lonesome, and I think, He shall know and for himself decide."
"Why, you darned old Guinea!" I yelled at him, "d'you suppose I'd leave you to buck this through alone? I don't know what got into Jim not to put some men in with you."
Pedro shrugged his shoulders. "Señor Holton had no time—what it ees, ees emperative—and for those men, they are all mad, I think. They come and es-swear at me, who never have done them injury—I, never! Who can say Pedro harmed him? They only leave when you are to arrive."
I don't know why, but suddenly it came upon me that we were stacked against a crowd of men—I mean it came rightrealto me, and I sat down in a chair, limp. I never admired a man more than I did Pedro, at that moment. There he was, the little man I so often laughed at, quietly going about his business, waiting for a crowd to come and kill him! I didn't mind one or two, or perhaps a few more men, so much, but the crowd threw a crimp into me. When you learn how much bigger a coward a crowd is, than any one man in it, you are not so troubled, but then! Well, it was the first time I'd been right down terrified in my life, and it was awful. I raked the sweat off my forehead, steadied myself the best I could, and says:
"Well, Pede, we're in for it!"
"Tiene V. razon!" says he; "but we will to do what we can. If I live, always shall I remember how Beel stay with me."
I've heard it said that a good example will steady you when you're scart. Out of my personal experience I beg to differ. I got mad at Pedro for not being frightened; and the more I thought how well he behaved, the worse rattled I got. I sat there, in a hot chill every time I heard a noise outdoors, till at last some sense came back to me. "This won't do!" says I. "Here, Pede, where's the hot-water bottle?"
He handed me a bottle of brandy. I put the neck to my neck and warmed my poor soul. Lord! but it tasted good. Dutch courage ain't on the same shelf with real courage, but it's a durned sight better than scart-to-death in a rumpus.
I hadn't more than time to give a "hoo" of satisfaction and put the bottle down, when there came a running and a yelling down the road. Pede and I jumped for the door together. The valley lay flat between the hills, north of us, and you could see a mile to the turn in the road. Down the road two men were running for their lives, a screeching gang after them, peppering 'em with rocks, clubs, and what not. Also there was the shine of knives—the shine that always sickens me. I waited for a gun-shot, but none came. The two had fifty yards' start, and they weren't losing it, if they could help it. As they drew nearer I could hear remarks about Papists from the crowd. In a second I saw the play—Brother Belknap's revolution!
That braced me. The victims ran with their arms over their heads for protection; when one dropped his arms and raised his head to cry for help, I recognized Tony Gonzales, the squarest, nicest man in the place. That steadied me more yet. Fifty men to the two!
"Come on, Pedro!" I hollered. We each grabbed a pick-handle, and with that in one hand and a gun in the other, we went to the door.
"Beel," says Pedro, "let us to remain here. They cannot be hurt now, for they run verree fas'. The es-store is a fort. If we stay, we do better."
I took in the situation. Tony and his mate were keeping distance nobly. I suppose they drew a clip or two from a stone, but they were in no deadly danger unless the crowd got hold of them. Pedro wasn't much of a hand to sell groceries and truck, but he was a durned good general when it came to war.
"Queeck, Beel!" says he. "For to defend us make closed the windows and doors, but the one!"
We worked sharp, rolling barrels against the doors and slapping boxes of canned goods against the window-shutters. The work did me a power of good. Anger had driven out most of my fear, yet getting my muscles into use was needed to remove the rest of the poison from my system.
Next I broke open a box of cartridges and spread them on the counter, while Pedro loaded revolvers taken from the stock. By the time the feet drew near, we were in fighting trim. Another cry for help sounded almost at the door. Pede and I rushed out.
"Get in, boys," I said, "and grab a gun!" They ducked under my arm and entered the store.
The rest drew up in a huddle, a ways off, and stopped.
"Now, gentlemen," I said in the best Spanish I could muster, "what's the matter?"
I got no answer, but bad looks. They talked and muttered among themselves, and shifted about, with ugly motions—as black and treacherous a mob as a man would like to dream of.
My temperature went right up. I naturally despise not getting an answer to a question. One lad shook his fist and growled something.
That was all. I waited. "Once more," says I, "what's the matter?" Same performance. I shot a hole through the hat of the lad who shook his fist. "Third and last call," says I, "what's the matter?" but they broke and ran.
My play held 'em for a minute. Our best show was to take the top hand at once, so I walked down to them.
"Now I want to know what ails you people," I said, getting the meaning into Spanish, if the words were a little mixed, "and I want to know quick, or there'll be a fuss right here."
A big feller jeered at me: "Put down the gun, andI'llshow you what's the matter," he said.
"You will?" says I, parting with what sense I had. "You yellow-bellied snake-in-the-grass!Youwill show a white man, will you? Come on out here, you that's so brave in a crowd!"
I chucked the gun away and waited for him. I got just what I might have expected—they all come for me! Cursing my fool soul, I jumped for the gun. I almost had my hand on it when a rock took me behind the ear and laid me on the grass. It was up to Mr. William De La Tour Saunders to put his feet under him with celerity and hike out of that. It was painful—sufferin' Moses! How I hated to run from that crowd! I snorted, but run was the word, and run I did, with them hollering and laughing at me. Inside, I grabbed two of the guns from the counter, called to Pedro and the other two, and started back. I met the gang right at the door. It was curious how making me run had braved them; they were for tearing everything apart now. Well, our meeting was a surprise to both parties. I've had to be grateful all my life that my hands think faster than my head. I put four shots into that crowd before I thought at all. The man who picked up my revolver fired and missed me from a three-foot range. I got some of the powder, also a knife in the shoulder, but four men laid out discouraged 'em and they broke again. I put it to them with both hands, Pedro and the other boys cutting in before they found shelter.
By this time I was wild—wanted to go after them and hunt 'em out. Pedro and the other two fastened on me and dragged me in.
"More shall come, Beel!" cried Pedro.
"We must have care—do not to go, I implore!"
He not only implored, but half-strangled me; they hauled me back and shut the door.
"Listen, all," says Pedro. "This is not the end. Others will come with guns, and then!—But now to see what is outside." He stationed us each where we could peek through cracks, and so cover the store from all sides. There was barrels of ammunition, General Pedro issued commands to blaze away at a sight.
The folks outside kept up a stream of cursing and abuse, jeers and threats, and we returned a revolver fire just as effective. It was too far for a short gun.
We had two rifles in the shop. I wasn't then, and never have been, as good a shot with a rifle as with a pistol. Gonzales, though, had been a hunter. He took the rifle with a pleased smile.
"You makemerun," says he, playfully, to outdoors. "Now I makeyoujump! It is thus we amuse ourselves." A man showed his head, to the sound of an instant crash from the rifle. He jumped, all right.
"The old church shall say mass for your soul, Juan," says Gonzales. "You are the best dead man in the country."
After that, they were careful. I thought they'd leave, seeing they couldn't do anything with us, till Pedro explained they were probably holding us till armed men came. I should have felt dismal once more at this news, if I'd had nothing to do. The darkened store wore on my feelings. One feller I shot wriggled in a funny fashion as he lay on the ground. He was still wriggling—I could see him every time I stopped to think. He gave a long twist, like a snake, bringing his face to the light, at the last. He looked as if he felt perfectly disgusted. He hadn't ought to have looked that way. It bothered me.
The other three stood the gaff of waiting much better than I. In fact, I was frantic inside me, though I made a good chest of it. "Pede," I says, "let me have the other rifle—I'm going scouting."
"That is well," says Gonzales. "If you can get up on the hill without being seen, you can drive them out, and we shall have a shot."
So I took the rifle and squirmed through the brush and rocks back of the store until I was a hundred yards or so up the hill. It was a steep slant. In going so far I'd risen nearly a hundred feet. I could see part of our besiegers plain. Some ten of 'em lay behind boulders, smoking cigarettes and taking it easy. Another batch sat under the bridge. The rest I couldn't see.
I had a particular grudge against the feller who challenged me to fight. I searched carefully, and finally made him out, under a rock about three hundred yards away, sitting with his back to me, and playing a game with the man in front of him.
His fat back made a corking target. I rested the gun between two stones and had him dead to rights. I was ready to listen to the report and see him fall over, when, by the gods of war! my finger wouldn't pull the trigger. I hadn't the least feeling about killing that treacherous skunk, so far as I knew, but all the same, I couldnotpull that trigger. I was surprised, plenty. "Why, you damn fool!" I says to myself, "what's eating you! That lad would 'a' slaughtered your entire family, by this time!"
True, too, but it didn't make the gun go off. It's mighty queer how an unexpected "me" will jump out of you at times. There was one Bill Saunders just as anxious to do that blackguard as a man could be, and there was another—and the boss, too—who wouldn't stand for it.
I cussed between my teeth. "If you'd look at me, instead of turning your back, you dog!" I whispered, "I'd heap you up quick." I broke out into a sweat of shame, knowing how my friends were putting their faith in my gathering a man or two. I could have cried with mortification. Suddenly my lad jumped up and pointed, forgetting where he was. The next second the finger jammed into the ground, and the whang of Gonzales's rifle cut through the valley.
I looked where he pointed. Here come a string of men with guns, dog-trotting. I up and pasted into them. The shot started those below. Some jumped up. I could have whaled it to them all right now, but a shell jammed. Our boys socked it to them from the store, while I clawed at the durned cartridge. Got it out with my knife at last and banged away, first below and then at the approaching soldiers. I dropped a man and the soldiers scattered behind rocks and trees.
There was no use staying longer. I had only three cartridges left; nothing much I could do anyhow, as they would sneak up from this on; besides, I stood to get cut off from the store, so I carefully picked my way back, not wanting them to learn there was no one on the hill. In such a case as ours, you fight for time. I hoped nothing from time, but every minute you lived was clear gain. Out here in the country prisoners of war were stood against a wall.
So long as they thought we had men on the hill, they'd be cautious. Likely they'd send men around to clear the hill, first, and that would give us some minutes.
The other boys had seen the arrival of the soldiers. They were quiet, but hopeless. Gonzales shrugged his shoulders and examined his rifle. "How many?" he asked.
"Soldiers and all, or just soldiers?"
"All."
"Nigh a hundred."
"Ay de mi! Adios el mundo!Four men against a hundred! Well, they shall speak of us after—not a hundred will they be, when we leave."
The feeling that you'll leave a good name behind to comfort your last minutes, is a mighty good thing. Wish I had it. It didn't matter a darn to me. All I could think of was that they shouldn't get me—not if they was a million—and I proposed to work on those lines with force.
"Perhaps they won't jump us," I said with more wish than hope. "If they try any other play, we can hold 'em a week."
I had some contempt for those soldiers. I parted with it later. You see, they were barefoot, ragged, and dirty. Not a thing marked 'em for soldiers, but the guns and the orders. I hadn't seen many soldiers, but what I had seen was gay with uniforms and a brass band. Now, if they'd come at our store with a brass band, it would have been something like. This was only a rucus, with us holding the working end of the mule. No glory, no uniforms, no band, no nothing, but just getting holes shot in you, and it wouldn't be no more than truthful for me to admit I was perfectly contented with my hide as she was.
We strengthened the doors and windows by piling more boxes up, leaving only holes to shoot through. Then we waited. The dark heat in the store just melted you; outside the sun hammered fit to knock your eye out. When it comes hot and still—deadly still—I can remember that hour's waiting in the store. I couldn't hold on to what I was thinking of for a minute; all my ideas flipped around like scart birds, and I sweat and sweat, and I was sick at my stomach, and the man I shot kept squirming. It was the same as sitting up in bed to find out your nightmare is real. To the devil with waiting! I tried to clamp my attention on mother, on Mary, on everybody I knew. Useless. I didn't seem to know anybody—they were only jokes, and mostly, the faces, as they skipped by, turned on me and grinned. At the same time I kept talking with the other boys and even laughed once in a while. I know they thought I was cool as a watermelon. I'm even with them there; I thoughttheywere, too.
When Gonzales called, with a click in his voice, "Hist!Quid'ow!They come!" I could have raised both hands to heaven in thanks. There's nothing one-eighth as bad in getting killed as sitting around waiting for it.
I jumped for my window. There ain't a bit of what was in front of me but what's with me to stay. I could only see a small space that day—anything that wasn't in a ten-foot circle was dark. I leave the why to the doctors. It never troubled me again.
I had the south window, kind of slantwise facing the road, and about twenty foot from it, where it passed the store. There was a breastwork of canned goods shoulder high, with lots of loose cartridges spread on the inner top box. The box near me was open, and red labels on quart cans of tomatoes shone out—"Pride of the Garden." I wonder if the man that raised 'em, or he that canned 'em, ever imagined they were going to become the bulwarks of the State of Panama?
The shutters were heavy, with holes in 'em about four inches wide, which you could cover with a round piece of wood that swung on a screw. These holes were right in height for me to shoot through. The other boys had to stand on boxes, being shorter.
I took a peep through my gun-hole. There come the rebels, flap-flapping down the road in their bare feet, trailing their guns, their wide-brimmed hats shaking comical. And I felt happy when I saw it. These were real men, and for the last hour I'd been fighting ghosts. We didn't want 'em to hit us in a body, so I called cheerful to the other boys, "Bet you a can of tomatoes I draw first blood!" and let her flicker through the loop-hole.
The barefoot soldiers expected to walk right through us. They come straight and fairly bunched, while we dropped them. They kept coming and we kept dropping them. Streaks of white flew out of the shutters and whiskers grew on the walls, but not a man of us was touched, while we laid them out something awful.
It wasn't we was crack shots, neither, excepting Gonzales. We were, for all practical purposes, cool.
Speaking for myself, I felt neither hope nor fear. I had but one ambition—to make the party that arrived as small as possible. It would surprise me to learn that our boys missed two shots out of five. And there isn't any crowd, white, brown, nor black, that can stand a gaffing like that.
They had no plan. As I say, they thought all they had to do was walk up and take us. When we put every third man on the grass, they halted, bunching closer, and we pumped it to 'em for keeps. They melted down the road, panic-struck.
We had no cheers of victory, being much too busy. By just keeping industriously at work instead of hollering we put three or four more out of the game. It was business, for us.
The smoke drifted slowly up the hillside; some of the wounded men began hollerin' for water; one got to his knees and emptied his gun at us. Gonzales was for removing him, but I held his hand. "Let him ease his mind," I said, "he can't hit anything." And just to make me out a liar, the beggar covered me with splinters from the shutter. Gonzales shot, and that was over. I began to wish they'd hustle us again.
The sweat poured off us. We panted like running dogs. Outside there, where the valley rippled with sun-heat, all was still, except that cry—"Water! water! For the love of God, water!" I've needed water since. I know what that screech means. Lord! that hour!—a blaze of sun, blue shadows, wisps of smoke curling up the hill, and the lonesome cry in the big silence—"Water! water! For the love of God, water!" That's what it come to; them fellers didn't care much for victory—they wanted water.
It wore on me, like the barking of a dog. I grabbed the water-pail and started for the door.
"Here!" cries Pedro, "what will you make?"
"I want to stop that noise."
"Put down the pail!" says Pedro. "Foolish fellow! Do you not know they keel you at once?"
"Pede," I says, "I can't sit here and hear 'em holler like that—there's no damn use in talking."
"Listen," says Pedro, grabbing me by the coat. "See what you do; here are friends; for them you care not. Eef you are keeled, so much the worse are we—are we not more than they? You leave us, and you shall be keeled and our hope goes—I ask you, is that good?"
"No," I says, putting down the pail. "It ain't, Pede. You're right," and one of 'em outside struck a new note that stuck in me and quivered. "Remember," I says, "that I died admitting you were right." Darn it, I was risking my own hide. But Pede had the truth of it. I oughtn't to have done it. So I grabbed the pail and went out.
I was considerable shot at, but not by the wounded men.
The first lad was a shock-headed half-Injun, with a face to scare a mule. He was blue-black from loss of blood. "Drink, pretty creature, drink," says I. He grabbed the pail and proceeded to surround the contents. "Whoa, there!" says I, "there are others!" I had to yank the pail away from him. He looked at me with his fevered eyes, and held out his big, gray, quivering hands—"For the love of God, Señor,poquito—poquito!"
"No more for you," I said, and he slumped back, his jaw shaking. It was a waste of water, really; he'd been bored plumb center. So I went the rounds, having to fight 'em away as if they was wolves. Lord! how they wanted that water!
When I got to next to the last man, some better marksmen up the road shot my hat off. That riled me. It would make anybody mad. I stopped on the spot and expressed my sentiments.
"You're a nice lot of rosy-cheeked gentlemen, you are," says I. "You damned greasy, smelly, flat-footed mix of bad Injun and bad white! If I could get hands on one of you, I'd shred him so fine he'd float on the breeze. Now, you sons of calamity, you shoot at me once more, and I'll call on you!"
I was ready to go right up. I waited a minute, but no more shots came.
"All right," says I. "Sin vergüenza!" and more I won't repeat. The Spaniard has nice ideas about a good many things, but he cusses by the hog-pen. So I told 'em what I could remember that was disrespectful, fed the last man his water, and returned. I stopped to look at my first man. He'd passed on. Well, I wasn't sorry he'd had a drink.
"Ha-ha, Pede!" says I when I got back, "I fooled you!"
"By one eench!" says he, looking at my hat.
"Inch is as good as a mile, and that cussed noise is stopped for a while, anyhow."
A stone rattled back of us.
"Look to the doors, quick!" says Pedro.
We hopped to our places.
"Many coming down the hill!" says Gonzales.
It wasn't that I had scared or impressed my friends by my oration that they hadn't shot further; no, they simply took advantage of the opportunity to work a sneak on us from behind. I call that low-down. Howsomever, it didn't matter what I called it. They were at our back door, knocking hard.
Skipping gaily from tree to rock, they was full as well sheltered as we. Worst of all, when the store was built, the stones from the cellar had been placed in a row behind—not fifteen feet from the back door. There was no way under heaven we could keep them from lining up behind that stone wall, and hitting us all in a lump when they got ready.
We shut and barricaded the front door. That side of the store must take care of itself. We simply had to put all hands to meet the rush.
In a few minutes, stones, clubs, and a few shots fell on the front of the store, to draw us—this was the other lads, not the soldiers. Gonzales made a quick move, fired half a dozen shots in that direction, and then came back.
A white handkerchief on a stick waved behind the wall.
"We wish to talk!" said a voice.
"Talk later, we're busy now!" says Pedro.
"We shall spare your lives, if you yield the store. We only wish to destroy this because it belongs to Holton, who supports the iniquitous, the government that now is. On our word of honor, you shall live, if you yield the store."
"Well," whispered Pedro to us, "what do you say?"
"Tell him the fortune-teller fooled him," says I.
"Tell him to go to hell," says Gonzales.
"It is a trick," says the other man.
"So think I," says Pedro. He called aloud: "We are large healthy men. To make us live is necessary we have more than your word of honor—do not play further, cowards that you are! The store you may have when we give it to you. We will kill you all—all!"
All four of us yelled and hooted at 'em. We were strung tight now. Thirty-odd men ready to climb at you, fifteen feet away, thirty or forty more all ready to whack at you from behind, takes the slack out.
There was just one second of hush, and then hell bu'st her b'iler. Lord! Lord! Of all the banging and yelling and smashing you ever did hear! Noise enough for Gettysburg. They come at us from all around. We scrambled like monkeys, shooting; jumping elsewhere; shooting again—zip, zip, zip—fast as you could clap your hands. They bored in so they could hammer on the door. I was helping there until I heard a crash from my window, and saw a head coming in. I caved that head with my rifle-barrel and fired into a swarm over the remains. They fired right back again; lead sung like a bees' nest. Flame and smoke spurted out all over. You couldn't see any more in the store. I snapped at the crowd until I found there was no results, my magazine being empty; and, there scarcely being time to load, I poked 'em with the muzzle. In the middle of this razzle-dazzle come another crash and a flood of light. I saw the front door down; men tumbling through the opening.
I screeched to the other boys, grabbed cans of tomatoes, and pasted the heap. It sounds like a funny weapon, but I want you to understand that when an arm like mine heaves a quart can of tomatoes at you, some little time will pass before you see the joke. I hit one man under the nose and lifted him three feet.
I followed this up with a box in one lump, clubbed my rifle, and lit into 'em. It was then that one of our boys shot me in the leg by mistake. You couldn't tell what you were doing. It was all a mess of noise and lunacy. The leg-shot brought me to my knees and the gang atop. I worked lively before I was free. Somehow I got a knife—I'll never tell for sure how, nor when. But at last I was loose with a crowd in front looking at me and calling for guns.
"Beel, Beel! Help!" called Pedro. How was I to help? The moment I turned my back that outfit would swarm in.
It was all over. I heard Gonzales curse above all the other noises. And then, as I stood there, sick, knowing I must drop in a minute, I saw a change on the faces in front of me. Things were swimming considerable and I smiled at my own foolishness. I must have lost sight for a second, for when I saw again, the crowd was leaving, tight as they could pelt.
As I gracefully put my ear in a spittoon, I heard a tremendous firing, and the next minute, through the doorway, beheld the soles of barefooted soldiers' feet.
Somebody shook me by the shoulders. I came out of dreamland long enough to see Pedro with the tears running down his face. "Beel!" he screamed; "Beel! by the mercy of God, it is Señor Holton with men!"
Then his voice changed. "What ees eet? You are hurt, no?"
"No," says I. "I just wanted to listen to the spittoon."
I reckon that joke was too much for me, in my condition. It takes a strong man to stand the wear of things like that. Anyhow, my next appearance in active life found me all bandaged up neat as a Sailors' Home, and a very nice-looking gentleman holding my wrist with one hand, with a glass of truck to throw into me in the other, and Jim was swearing a prayer to the doctor not to let me go.
"Oh, I wasn't thinking of going anywhere," says I, to relieve his mind. "What are you laughing at? I wasn't."
"That's right, Bill," says Jim, taking my hand. "Just stay right here."
The doctor fed me something that I felt clear down to my toes, still keeping his hand on the wrist.
"Good!" says he. "The effect of shock is over—it's only the lost blood now—he must have lost a gallon, from his appearance."
"Durn careless of me," says I, still hazy. "But what in thunder am I doing here? What's all this about?"
"Lie down, Bill," says Jim. "You have three knife-cuts and four bullet-holes in you."
"I have?" says I, rousing up. "Well, then, why didn't I holler for water?"
"You did," says Jim.
"There, there!" says the doctor. "No more talk! Lie still, young man, and sleep, if you can."
It was two days later when I got particulars. Seems I was out of my head for four hours, and like to die any minute; that I had a hole in the lower leg, another in the hip, a streak across the top of my head, and a bullet in the shoulder. Also a slash across the right hand, and another on the right forearm, and a stab in the same upper arm. I suppose that was during the hand-to-hand at the window and the door. I have a faint memory of getting the knife by pulling it out of my own arm. But the bullet-holes knocked me. I don't remember getting shot at all—only a dizziness when one man fired in my face. I guess that was the streak across the head.
I was the star performer. The other boys drew a couple of holes apiece or so. Gonzales wasn't even laid up, though Pedro had his arm shattered.
Well, they kept me quiet, although I was crazy to talk. At the third day I demanded food, instead of swill. The doctor looked troubled and shook his head.
"See here, Doc," says I, "how am I going to manufacture good new blood, without the raw material? Just let me have a half-a-dozen eggs and a hunk of bacon and a loaf of bread, and I'll do credit to you."
He snorted at the idea, but I begged so hard he says at last: "Well, all right; you are the toughest piece of humanity I ever struck; maybe itwilldo you good."
When I got outside that first square meal, William De La Tour Saunders felt less naked and ashamed inside of him, and proceeded to get better a mile a minute.
The fourth day I could sit up and hear Jim tell me all about it.
He had found a feller in the camp preaching revolution. For some time this had been expected. It was known that a General Zampeto was setting up for President, and it was also known that Belknap was backing him, although he took great care not to be mixed in it by name. But Zampeto and Belknap had fooled our crowd plenty, by being all ready for action when it was supposed they were just starting in.
When Jim caught and thumped that first revolutionist, he tumbled at once that things were about to boil, so he flew for help. His camp was a sort of turning-point. The two sides were about evenly divided as to forces, and, as Jim worked nearly three hundred men, it meant a great deal which side they fought on.
Jim's men were mainly peaceful, quiet fellows, like Gonzales and that other feller—(Pepe something-or-other—I don't know as I ever learned his full name)—and Jim had great authority with them. If the rebels smashed Jim on the start, his men would fall in on the winning side, or at worst remain neutral. Neither Zampeto nor Jim had the least idea they'd fight hard—it was just the moral effect of it, and then, too, the supplies in the store were valuable.
Jim could have rounded up enough of the boys to lick the hide off this gang of rebels, if it wasn't, as I said, that, knowing 'em to be nice quiet lads, like Pedro, he felt sure they'd quit in a mess. "And never will I be such a fool as that again," says Jim. "I knew you'd give 'em war, but to think of Pedro! I told him to run and save himself!"
Our boys, being scattered and without a leader, simply had to submit to being chased out of the country. Chance led Gonzales and Pepe to fly to the store.
So much for us. No one knew what was doing in Panama. The country was full of rebels around us, and Jim found himself too busy gathering an army to ride to town and see.
He finally had some three or four hundred men, armed after a fashion, that he drilled from morning till night.
And here was I, stuck in bed! Doc wouldn't let me try the game leg, although I felt sure it would hold me.
"You stay there till I tell you," says he, "and then you'll get up and be useful; if you try now, you'll only go back again to be a nuisance to your friends."
He put it that way to make it a cinch I'd stay. Nobody ever was kinder than him and the rest. Each day some one was with me to play cards, or checkers, or talk. Old Jim couldn't do enough for me. I think he'd spent all his time in the house if it wasn't that he must take hold outside. "Boy, I know what you did for me," he said. "There ain't no use talking about it between us, but what I have is yours."
Just the same, Iknewthat leg was all right, so one day, when I found myself alone, I got up to walk to the water-pail. I laid down on the floor so hard I near bu'sted my nose. "Guess I don't want any drink," thinks I. "I'll go to bed, instead." I couldn't make that, neither. My arms only held me for a second, then they sprung out at the elbow. I sweat and swore at the cussed contraptions that wouldn't work. Tears of rage come free and fast. Them arms and legs of mine had served me so long, I couldn't believe they'd gone back on me like that, and I was so ashamed to have the doctor come and ketch me that I flew into a fit, foamin' and fumin' and snarlin' like a trapped bear.
It was then the doctor entered on the scene. What he said was never intended to be repeated. Lord save us! He put my case in juicy words!
"Now, you red-headed young fool!" says he, as he rolled me in bed, "I want you to understand I'd beat your head off, if you were a well man, for this trick!" He shook his fist under my nose. "Wait till you get up!" says he.
"Ain't I?" says I, feeling good-natured once more to see him in such a wax. "Ain't I waiting?"
"I won't talk to you!" says he, and slams himself out of the room.
Things went fast before I was around again. Jim met five hundred men sent out by Zampeto to clear the country, and killed or captured every man of 'em. The prisoners he penned close, but fed well, to teach 'em white ways.
Then he sent deceiving messengers back to Zampeto, to report how well the rebel army was doing. Victory kept perching on her standard till it was near worn out. But, all the same, another detachment, working to the east, to unite further south with the first body and sweep back toward the capital, would do excellently. The detachment was sent by Zampeto and gobbled the same as before. More victories were reported to the home rebel government, and assurances given that with another body, the three could descend on that part of the city held by Perez and Oriñez and crush it between their forces. Once more did Zampeto approve, to his bad fortune. And this did him up. It was all over with Belknap, Zampeto & Co., except the actual capture of their part of the town. They held Santa Ana and the church, the time-respected custom with revolutions.
Zampeto must have been a plumb fool. I saw him afterward—a fat, pompous man with a rolling, glaring eye. If Belknap had been able to step in, in person, we shouldn't have had a walk over; but while Zampeto was agreeable to advice in the beginning, he soon suffered fromcabeza grande, which swell-headed state Jim's reports of victories raised to a fearful size, and Belknap could do nothing with him.
His losses were tremendous for that country, and there he sat at home, serene in the belief of a conqueror! We had a cinch. Not a thing to do but chase them out of their holes!
I had my plans concerning Saxton and Mary, so Jim held the final attack on the city until I was able to ride. Then he sent word to Perez and our army started—not in mass, because somebody in the rebel army might have sense enough to scout a little, but by fives and tens, slipping along back ways and short cuts until Belknap and Zampeto were surrounded on the outside by two to one, and faced by an equal force in numbers, and a far superior in courage and ability, from within.
I got Oriñez and Perez to help me in the last act. We three wormed our way into the rebel town, early one morning, lying quiet in a cellar until evening came. Strange to say, the night before, Saxton met with an accident. I was handling a revolver and it went off, somehow or other, and burnt him across the back. "Christopher Columbus, Bill!" says he, "what a careless cuss you are! You've put me out of commission!" Gracious, but I was sorry! Yet, being the guilty party, I couldn't see where with decency I might do less than carry the word to Mary. That's one reason why we went into the rebels' camp. The other had to do with Belknap. He was easily capable of explaining things to his own credit, as long as he did all the talking. Now I wanted a hand in the conversation. We hid in the trees back of the fountain. Soldiers came and went. Zampeto himself, looking like a traveling jewelry-store, made a visit, but all hands were so secure in the belief of the wonderful success of the cause that they never suspected the existence of three enemies in the same garden—or even in the same one hundred square miles, for the matter of that. At last we saw Belknap; he came to the door with Zampeto. Behind him we saw the women-folk. One looked like Mary, but I couldn't be sure. Every time she moved somebody stuck his head in the way. At last Zampeto dropped something, and as he stooped to pick it up, I saw Mary plainly. She looked thin and worn, poor girl. Certain that both were in the house, I made a quick sneak across to the kitchen window, up the shutters, and in at a window on the second floor. Mary had told me the room Belknap kept as his private office. It was that window I went in.
I heard my man's heavy step in the hall, as I gathered myself. I heard Mary's voice answer him in a sad and lifeless tone. "I hope it will soon be over—it seems terrible, terrible! Although the end may be good." I heard her door shut, and, Belknap coming again, I got my gun ready, put on a bashful expression, and waited. I do not lie when I say that Mr. Belknap was astonished to find me in his private room. That expression was one of the few honest ones it had been my privilege to see upon his face.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, savage.
"Why, I only came to speak to Mary—to tell her about Mr. Saxton," I stammered, shyly, knowing that Saxton's name would wake him up.
"What about Saxton?" he asked, putting his wicked eye on me.
"Why, I want to tell Mary—I don't like to say—"
"What!" he said, dropping the sound of his voice still further and sending the meaning of it high. "What? You come into my room and won't answer my questions?" He took a quick cat-like step toward me. I saw I had a lively man to deal with, and, weak as I was, it stood me in hand to get ready. "There was a letter," I mumbled, reaching in my pocket for my gun. With my hand on that, I changed my mind. "I guess I oughtn't to let you have it, Mr. Belknap," I said.
He got gray around the mouth. "Give me that letter!" says he, in his strained whispering. "Give it to me, or, so help me God, I'll kill you where you stand."
I jumped back, terrified. "You wouldn't hurt me?" I gasped. "I shouldn't give you the letter, sir; it was intended for Mary—please don't hurt me! I've been sick!"
He drew a knife. "If you do not instantly hand me that letter," he says, and he meant every word of it, "I shall put this in your heart."
That was the justification I needed. It's queer, but I never saw a man who didn't have to have an excuse. Belknap hadhis, I reckon.
We stood there, me quivering with fear, and his bad light eyes murderous on me, while slowly, slowly, I drew out ... my gun.
"Now," whispers I, "you petrified hunk of hypocrisy, I've got you! Hand me that knife!"
He couldn't understand. He just stared. "Hand me that knife!" says I, letting what I felt become apparent. He passed over the knife. With all his faults, he was too smart a man not to know the fix he was in. Yet I thought I'd clinch it.
"Mr. Belknap," says I, "your goose is cooked. The government army is right outside, as your people could have seen, if they'd had the wit of a mud-turtle. I've come into your lines prepared to do anything necessary, as you can readily imagine. We're going to have a little play-acting now, and you're to guess your part. If you guess wrong—Well, heaven has missed you for some time, and she sha'n't be defrauded any longer."
His eyes flickered with fury. He couldn't have said a word to save him.
"Understand," I whispers, "a crooked move and—adios!"
He understood. I kicked a table over and scuffled with my feet as if there was a row, then lay down on the floor, where I could watch my man, and yelled quietly for help. Oriñez's head showed at the window. I signaled him, and he lay behind the shutter with his artillery trained on Belknap, the virtuous.
"Don't cause me the great grief, Señor," he whispers. Belknap turned and, seeing him, the life went out of his face.
I hadn't yelled loud enough to alarm the house. Only Mary's quick feet responded to the call.
She, too, was a trifle surprised to find me lying on the floor in Belknap's room.
"Save me, Mary!" I cried. "Save me!"
What's a little foolish pride when your friend's good is at stake? Yet it hurt to do that.
"Why, Will! Mr. Belknap!" she cried, astonished. "Whatever is the matter? What does this mean?"
"I came to see you, Mary," I said, almost crying, "and Mr. Belknap threatened to kill me."
"To killyou, Will?" she said, in a voice that rang like a man's. "Tokillyou?"
"Yes," I said piteously. "And I'm not fit to fight him—I've been hurt—see my head, where I've been shot." I tore open my shirt sleeve. "See the cuts! and the bullet holes!"
"Oh, poor boy! poor, poor boy!" she said in such loving pity that I felt a skunk and had a mind to chuck the game. But it was out of my hands now. Mary sprang up and faced Belknap, so strong, graceful, and daring in her rage that I forgot my job in admiring her.
"Explain!" she said.
Belknap opened his mouth. Outside sounded a little click—like a creak in the shutter-hinge. No words came.
The blood flamed in her face. "Have younothingto say to me, sir? I shall ask you once more what this poor wounded boy has done to you, that you propose to kill him?"
You never saw an uglier mug than Belknap's in all your days, as it appeared then. Ordinarily, although I hate to say it, he was a fine-looking man, but now his face was so twisted he looked like the devil in person. And still he said nothing. He had plenty good reason not to.
At this, Mary went at him. "I thought you a good man—a wise man," she said, with a bitter quiet that burnt, in every word. "You are a cowardly scoundrel. Attack the boy if you dare. I think I am a match for such as you."
And so help me John Rodgers, if she didn't catch up the heavy ruler from his desk and stand ready for him!
If I had the least remaining pity for Belknap, the look he threw at her finished it. He would have struck her if he could. I know it. The man was nothing but a rotten mess of selfishness.
"Bah!" says she, throwing down the ruler with disgust. "I am making much out of little. You are not worth notice."
She turned to me, all womanly gentleness and pity.
"Never mind, Will dear," she said. "You are safe, he dare not touch you. What was it you risked your life to tell me?"
"Mary," I said, speaking very slowly, to make it sound its worst. "Arthur—is—shot."
She acted as if she was, too. I caught her just in time. She hung so for a moment, not fainting, but as lifeless.
"Now," she said, scarcely above a breath—"now, when I have just begun to see, it comes! And I have myself to thank for it."
She was so white it frightened me; besides, things were everlastingly sliding along with Bill.
"Oh, he's notdead!" I explained, quickly. "He mayn't even be badly hurt, but I felt sure you wanted to know."
Then the tears came. "Want to know?" she sobbed. "Of course I want to know. Oh, what a fool of a woman I've been! And to think of your coming to tell me at the risk of your life! I haven't deserved it! Where is Arthur? Can we go there? Can we go, Will? You don't believe he'll die? He mustn't! He can't!"
Last I saw of Saxton he was chuckling merrily over the doctor's mistake concerning the value of aces up. Unless he'd changed his mind in the meanwhile, he hadn't the remotest intention of dying.
"It's dodging through the lines, Mary, to get to him—risky."
She waved my objection off with an impatient hand, dried her eyes, and made ready.
"Come with me until I get some things together," she said, practical, in spite of her fire. I do sure like that combination.
"I'll stay here," says I. "You won't hurt me now, will you, Mr. Belknap?" This I remarked in a very youthful, pleading tone.
He said, "No," after a struggle. It didn't sound like anything you ever heard from a human throat.
"I'll just stay here," I said. I wanted a word with the man. Mary looked doubtful for a moment, but at length left.
"Now, Belknap," says I, when she was safely in her room, and me almighty glad to be my own self again, "because you've been a friend of Mary's—that is, because she thought you were—you go free, if you wish. When we leave we'll send you back a man. Take my advice and go with him—don't get it into your fool head I'm working a plant on you this time. You can guess what your carcass will be worth when we take the city. Our men are due here in minutes."
He looked at me and ground his teeth—palsied with rage, shaking all over.
"Better do it," I said.
And then came testimony: far-off firing, and yells.
"Our boys are closing in," I told him. "That's them, now."
The firing grew heavier and then quit. The yells increased.
Another look flashed on his face—fear. For a while I think the bigger man in him determined to stick it out, but fear drew the pot.
The change grew.
"Of course," he said, "if I am to understand that you mean well by me—"
I cut him off.
"I don't mean well by you. I despise you altogether. You get away safely because Mary thought once you were a friend. It's a fool notion that you can take advantage of, or not, as pleases you. I won't attempt to disguise the fact that you are wanted bad by some of our side. Oriñez, there, would like to have your hide to remember you by."
"Si, Señor!" says Oriñez from the window. "It is only that my word is given you are not dead now."
There came another burst of firing, nearer. Another street taken.
"I agree," said Belknap, and now he was anxious, fawning. "I can take a few belongings? Trifles that I have picked up and wish to keep?"
"Leave your trifles and let them keep me," jeered Oriñez.
"You can take what you can carry," I answered, short.
"Thank you—thank you," he said hurriedly. "Would you mind if I asked you to leave me alone in the room? A stranger distracts one when it comes to what to leave and what to keep."
"We won't steal your darned money, even if we see it," I said. "You'll have time after we leave to gather your wealth."
He bit his nails. "The time seems short," he said. The firing broke out nearer, and now you could hear our war-whoop. "Viva Perez! Down with the traitors!" Each side called the other traitors. "Perez" was the key to the party.
"Short or not, it's what you get," I answered him. Mary left her room and the talk stopped.
"I am ready," she said.
I took her bundle and we started. At the head of the stairs she paused. "Will," she said, "I hate that man; but as I hope to go to the happiness of my life, I will not leave him so."
"Good for you!" says I.
She went in again and held out her hand.
"Mr. Belknap," she said, "I wish no ill-will between us. Forgive me as fully as I forgive you."
He was on pins and needles to get his money; to be rid of us.
"Certainly, my dear young lady!" says he with haste and effusion. "Certainly! Of course!" It meant nothing to him at all. And it meant a ton to Mary. She stared at him until I pulled her away. "Is that a sane man?" she asked me.
"I've no time for conundrums," I answered her. "We must be getting out of this."
If I succeeded, I was to signal Perez. When we reached the garden, I could walk freely, being in the company of the well-known Señorita Maria. I undid my neckerchief, shook it carelessly, and Perez was off, to bring Arthur by any kind of method to the arranged meeting-place.
Oriñez struck off ahead to scout for possible danger.
There was none. We hadn't gone five squares before we ran into panic-stricken rebels, and the firing-line was approaching on the jump.
Not wanting Mary to see the wounded men, and not caring to explain just then why I couldn't have waited an hour or two for my message, I took the back way.
We landed at the little ruined stone house before Saxton and Perez; they had much farther to travel.
"We must wait here," I told Mary.
"Must we?" she asked pitifully. "Can't we go on?"
"Now, my dear girl, see here," says I, in a fatherly manner, "after I've tried to do the best—"
"Yes, dear, yes—I'm ungrateful, I know." She cried a little. "But I've been such a fool! You'resurehe isn't dangerously hurt?"
"Why, it may be," says I, with a wave of my hand, "that he's up and around! I don't know much about these things, you know. I'm scart easy."
Then she petted me and said I had a wise reason, she was sure, and if it was dangerous to go on, she wouldn't, and she'd be patient, and she was all worn out and she looked a fright, andwhata fool she had been! And she cried some more.
I heard a step. I'd strained my ears for it for the last twenty minutes. "Now," I says to her, "I'll skip out to see what's doing."
I slid behind a tree in time to prevent Sax from seeing me. Perez was on the hill waving his hands for joy. I felt pretty dum joyous myself, hiding in the brush with the lovely feeling of putting through a thoroughly successful put-up job added to the other.
Dead silence after Saxton stepped within the little house. Then come one cry—"Arthur!"
The whole business, from the cradle to the grave, was done up in one small word.
Perez come down the hill; I left my brush-pile. Arthur and Mary were sitting on the stone step, hand in hand. I'll bet they never said a word after that first cry, and they held hands like they was afraid to let go, even for a minute. I thought we'd have lots of explaining to do, but shucks! They didn't want any explanations. There they were, sitting on the door-step, hand in hand. Good enough old explanation for anybody.
They didn't even see us.
I raised my voice, calling to Perez, "Your Excellency, I have the honor to report Panama has fallen!"
And there they sat, hand in hand. They didn't even hear us, neither.