JOSÉ PEZ, MERCHANDISE
JOSÉ PEZ, MERCHANDISE
A solemn old man, burned almost black by the sun and with the skin of his face as wrinkled as an alligator's hide, rose from a comfortable chair on the porch to greet them. He wore a long white goatee and military mustache. He had an air of immense dignity.
"Buenos días, señorita! Buenos días, señor!" and he bowed politely.
"Are—are you Mr. Pez?" asked Janice timidly.
The old man bowed low again. "Don José Almoreda Tonias Sauceda Pez—at your service, señorita."
"We wish to find Lieutenant Cowan. He is stationed here."
"No longer, señorita," said the old fellow, shaking his head in vigorous denial. "He is gone with his troop a month now. I do not know his present station. At the telegraph office the operator may be able to tell you. To my sorrow I cannot. Lieutenant Cowan is my friend."
"And my father's friend. My father is Mr. Broxton Day," Janice hastened to tell him.
"Señor Broxton Day?" repeated the don. "I am sorrowful, señorita. I do not know heem. But we have a—how do you call it in Eenglish?—Ah! a mutual friend in Lieutenant Cowan. Come in. My poor house and all that I possess is at your service."
"You—do you conduct a hotel here, Señor Pez?" suggested Janice.
"Surely! Surely!" declared the old man with another sweeping gesture.
"We must get rooms here then, Marty," she said to her cousin; "and perhaps the gentleman can tell us how we may get across the river and to San Cristoval."
"You letmedo the talking," Marty said rathergruffly. "I'll make the bargain. I've found out that a dollar Mex ain't worth but fifty cents."
He said this in a low voice; but the don was already summoning somebody whom he called "Rosita" from the interior of the house. The house was divided in the middle, one half of the lower floor being given up to the exigencies of trade. On the other side of the hall that ran through to the rear were the hotel rooms.
Rosita appeared. She was a woman shaped like a pyramid. Even her head, on which the black coarse hair was bobbed high, finished in a peak—the unmistakable mark of the ancient Aztec blood in her veins. Her shoulders sloped away from her three chins and it seemed as though the greatest circumference of her body must be at her ankles, for her skirt flared. Rosita had guessed at her waist-line and had tied a string there, for her dress was a one-piece garment and she had no actual knowledge of where her waistband should be placed.
But in spite of her strange shape and dark complexion, Rosita was still very pretty of countenance and had wonderfully white teeth and great, violet eyes. She was still in her early thirties. A toddling little one clung to her skirt.
"Take theniñitohence, Rosita, and show the señorita to the best room above. Hercaballero——?" Señor Pez looked at Marty doubtfully and the boy struck in:
"That's all right, old feller. It don't matter where I camp. We'll talk about that pretty soon. You go ahead and see the room, Janice, and wash up. Maybe they can give you dinner."
"Surely! Surely!" said the don, shooing theniñitoout of the way as though it were a chicken.
Rosita mounted to the upper floor in the lead. Janice followed with a queer feeling of emptiness at her heart—the first symptom of homesickness.
But the mountainous Rosita seemed as kindly intentioned as the old don. She opened the door with a flourish on a broad, almost bare room, with an iron bed, a washstand and bureau of maple, a rocking chair, and with curtains at the two windows.
On the floor was a straw matting and over its dry surface Janice heard a certain rustling—a continual rhythmic movement. As she stared about the floor, hesitating to enter, Rosita said:
"It is be-a-u-tiful room—yes, huh?"
"But—but what is that noise?" asked the girl from the North, her mind filled with thoughts of tarantulas and centipedes.
"Huh? Nottin'.That?Jes' fleas—sand fleas. They hop, hop, hop. No mind them. You hongree—yes, huh? I go get you nice dinner—yes, huh?"
She departed, quite filling the stairway as she descended to the lower floor.
"My goodness!" thought Janice, with a sudden hysterical desire to laugh. "I should hate to havethe house catch fire and wait my turn to go downstairs after Rosita!"
It took no conflagration to hasten her preparations for descent on this occasion. She met Marty at the foot of the staircase. The boy's face was actually pallid, and against this background his freckles seemed twice their usual size.
"What is it? What has happened?" demanded Janice, seizing his arm.
Marty drew her farther from the foot of the staircase to where she could see through a narrow doorway into the store.
"See there!" the boy hissed.
"See what? Oh, Marty! you frighten me."
"'Tain't nothin' to be frightened of," he assured her. "See that feller with the red vest?"
"I see the red waistcoat—yes," admitted Janice, peering into the gloomy store.
"Hi tunket! D'you know who's inside that red vest?" sputtered Marty.
"No-o."
"Tom Hotchkiss!" said her cousin. "What d'you know about that?"
It is not the magnitude of an incident that most shocks the human mind. A happening stuns us in ratio to its unexpectedness.
Now, if there was anything in the whole range of possibilities more unexpected than the appearance of Tom Hotchkiss, the absconding Polktown storekeeper, down in this unlovely Border town, Janice Day could not imagine what that more unexpected occurrence could be.
It took fully a minute for Marty's announcement to really percolate to his cousin's understanding. She stared dumbly at the red vest, which was about all she could see of the man in Don José Almoreda Tomas Sauceda Pez's store, and then turned to Marty, saying:
"Yes?"
"Cricky!" sputtered the boy. "You gone dumb, Janice? Don't you understand?"
"I—I—no, Marty. I do not believe Idounderstand. Is—is it surely that Hotchkiss man?"
"Surest thing you know!" declared the boy.
"Whatshallwe do?" and for once Janice felt herself to be quite helpless.
That Marty's wits were bright and shining was proved by his immediate reply:
"You leave it to me. I got a scheme. I'm going to skip over to the telegraph office. We want to find that Lieutenant Cowan if we can, anyway. And I'm going to send what they call a night letter to dad. Anightletter to aDay, see?" and he giggled.
"You get back upstairs into your room and don't let Hotchkiss see you. Get 'em to give you your dinner up there. 'Twon't be nothin' but beans, anyway, I have an idea. That's what they live on down here, they tell me, and comin' from Vermont as I do, beans ain't a luxury to me. I won't mind missing a mess of 'em for once."
"But, Marty——"
"I got a scheme, I tell you," the boy whispered. "Can't stop to tell you what it is. I got to hike."
He dashed out of the door, the only rapidly moving figure in all that town, for even the dogs in the street seemed too lazy to move.
Janice, feeling that she was allowing her cousin to take the lead in a most disgraceful way, yet really not knowing what better to do, mounted the stairs again and went into the room where the sand fleas were "fox-trotting," as she afterwards told Marty, over the straw matting.
The appearance of Tom Hotchkiss in this place was such a shock to the girl that it was some time before she could think connectedly about it. Her cousin had made the discovery and had had time to collect his wits before Janice had descended the stairs. After a time the girl realized what should be done, and she wondered if Marty would really be wise enough to do it.
Her uncle should be informed at once of the presence of Tom Hotchkiss here on the Border. In addition the local authorities should be communicated with and a complaint lodged against the runaway storekeeper and his arrest demanded.
She was not quite sure what would be the correct course to pursue; but when the smiling and ponderous Rosita with theniñitostill tagging at her skirt brought up her dinner, she asked the woman how one went about having a criminal arrested in that town.
"You want the sheriff—yes, huh?" said Rosita.
"I suppose so."
"The sheriff, heem my hoosban'," said Rosita proudly. "Señor Tomas Morales. But he off now to ar-r-est one weeked man—very weeked. He stole Uncle Tio's pants. Poor Uncle Tio! My hoosban' go far after this weeked man—two days' horse journey."
"And just because the man stole a pair of pants?"
"Yes, huh! You see," explained Rosita, "they were all the pants poor Uncle Tio own, and he now have to wearserapeonly. Only poor Indians appear without pants—yes, huh!"
Janice gazed at theniñitoand tried to imagine the dignity attached in the peon's mind to a pair of trousers. However, the meal was before her and although the main dish was beans, as Marty had foretold, they were savory and the girl found them good.
Thesefrijoleswere soft and well seasoned and the cakes,tortillas, were tender, too. The coffee was delicious and there was a sweet cake which Janice thought was made of ground bean-flour, but was not sure.
She began to worry about Marty's absence. After Rosita had descended the stairs everything was silent about the store and hotel. It was the hour ofsiesta—though why one hour should be considered more somnolent than another in this place the girl from Vermont could not imagine.
Through the open, unscreened window she could see down the street. At its far end, across the railroad, was a pole from which a faded American flag drooped. This she knew indicated the post telegraph office. The army post was a little more than a mile away.
Where could Marty be all this time? It was two hours since he had darted out of the hotel to sendthe night letter to Uncle Jason. Surely he was not still at that telegraph office?
Here and there along the dusty, sunny street figures in broad hats, striped cotton, suits, with colored sashes, many of them barefoot or shod only in home-made sandals, leaned against the adobe walls, or lay on their backs in the shade. Groups of shawl-headed, gossipy women with innumerable babies playing about them likewise spotted the gray street with color.
Those males who were awake were smoking the everlasting cigarette or rolling a fresh one. Not a few of the women were smoking, too. Just one of these male figures, lolling against the wall directly opposite her window, did not expel the incense of nicotine through his nostrils. This lad did not smoke.
Janice, for some reason, looked at him more attentively. His high-crowned, gayly banded hat was quite like the headgear of the others; so, too, was the glaringly striped suit he wore of "awning cloth" such as the girls were having sport skirts made of in the North—"too loud for an awning, but just right for a skirt!"
He wore a flowing necktie and shoes and socks—an extravagance that few of the Mexicans in sight displayed. Or was he a Mexican? He was tanned, but not to the saddle color of the native.
Yes! he waved his hand to her. Now that heknew he had caught her eye he raised his hatbrim and revealed—Marty's face, all a-grin, beneath it!
"Goodness! whatisthat boy doing? He has attempted to disguise himself again," murmured Janice Day.
Then she suddenly apprehended her cousin's reason for thus assuming the dress and air of the town. At least she thought she did. He was watching the store to see that Tom Hotchkiss did not get away. He did not wish to be recognized by the dishonest Polktown storekeeper. And knowing, as she did, that the only local officer of the law, Señor Tomas Morales, was absent she realized that she and Marty must be careful if they wished to have Hotchkiss finally seized.
Here the absconder was, right near the Mexican Border. Once over the Rio Grande, in the present unsettled state of Mexican affairs Hotchkiss could not be arrested and turned over to the American authorities.
Instead of entering Canada as Polktown people thought probable, and from which he could be more or less easily extradited if found, Tom Hotchkiss had traveled across the continent to be near battle-troubled Mexico where many transgressors against laws of the United States have taken refuge.
Janice Day's heart throbbed with eager thoughts. What a really great thing it would be if she and Marty could succeed in having this man, whose dishonest acts threatened Uncle Jason's ruin, apprehended by the law before he could get across the Border!
"Oh! if daddy's friend, Lieutenant Cowan, were only here," thought the girl, "we might accomplish it without awaiting the return of Rosita's trousers-chasing 'hoosban'.' I wonder who is in command of the soldiers out there at the post? Would I dare go to see?"
This plan savored of delaying her determination to get into Mexico and find her wounded father. But to cause the arrest of Tom Hotchkiss might mean Uncle Jason's financial salvation. Of course, if the runaway storekeeper had not lost the money he had stolen, his apprehension would insure the recovery of the large sum for which Mr. Jason Day had made himself liable.
Janice waved her hand in return to Marty and nodded understandingly; but she wished to communicate with him at close quarters. She desired to know how much he had learned—if he, too, knew that the local sheriff was out of town. She however saw the danger of going down boldly to hold converse with her cousin. Tom Hotchkiss knew her, of course, as he did Marty, though not very well. Just then Janice hoped the man had forgotten them both.
When Rosita, smiling but puffing after the stair-climb like the exhaust of a "mountain climber"locomotive, appeared for her tray Janice took the willing and kindly Mexican woman into her confidence, to an end she had in view.
It was true that Janice's traveling bag held a very small wardrobe for such a long journey as she had made. She had nothing fit to wear now that she had reached the Border. Could ready-made garments that would fit her be bought in Don José's store?
But, by goodness!—yes, huh? There were garments for the young señorita—yes, of a delectable assortment. Ah! if Rosita herself could but wear them. But, she was past all that—yes, huh? Would the señorita believe it? She had lost her figure!
Janice turned quickly to point from the window so that the unfortunate Rosita should not see her expression. It was a task to keep from bursting into laughter in the simple woman's face.
"Clothes like that girl over there is wearing?" Janice asked.
"Ah, señorita! not like those old clothes of Manuel Dario's daughter. But realtailaire-madegowns from the East."
"But I wish to dress like one of you Mexican girls," Janice said with subtile flattery. "My cousin and I have to go over into your country and I shall be less conspicuous if I dress like—like other girls there, shall I not?"
"Oh! but not like the common girl!" begged Rosita. "One must dress richly, señorita."
"No," Janice said. "I am on a serious mission, Rosita; perhaps a dangerous mission. My father has been wounded in a fight up beyond San Cristoval, and I must go after him and bring him over here."
Rosita made a clucking noise in her throat significant of her sympathy, making likewise the sign of the cross. "May his recovery be sure and speedy, señorita," she said. "Yes, huh?"
But now for the new clothes. Once having got it fixed in her slow brain that Janice was not in the market for the shop-made garments copied after the latest fashions, Rosita was very helpful. She made no objection to waddling downstairs and panting up again with her arms full of the ordinary cheap finery of the Mexican women. The colors were gay and the goods coarse; but Janice was not critical. She merely hoped to escape any special attention while passing through these Border towns. Likewise she hoped to disguise herself from the eyes of Mr. Tom Hotchkiss.
"If the señorita desires to travel far within Chihuahua, it would be better to advise with my father, Don José," Rosita said, revealing a relationship Janice had not before suspected. "Although he has been exiled now for many years, and is—what you say?—naturalized—yes, huh. Yet, señorita, he has many friends among all factions. Some of the lesser chiefs are personally known to him, those bothof the bandits and the army of deliverance. Speak to him, señorita."
"I shall, Rosita," said Janice. "And as soon as your husband, the Señor Sheriff Morales, comes I wish to speak with him too."
"Sí, sí, señorita.I hope that will be soon," Rosita said, blowing a sigh. "And I hope he brings back Uncle Tio's pants."
Janice ventured downstairs dressed in her fresh garments. They were not unbecoming, and she tossed her head and walked with her hand on her hip as she had seen several of the Mexican girls do who had passed Marty leaning against the wall. Marty was not thinking much of girls, however, and he had given the señoritas very little notice for their trouble.
But he saw Janice when she came down the veranda steps and recognized her, grinning broadly at her.
"Hi tunket! you got a head on you, Janice, you have!" he said admiringly. "I wasn't sure you'd see what I was up to."
"I return the compliment," said his cousin, smiling on him. "Youthought of it first."
"Well, I was afraid Tom Hotchkiss might see and spot me."
"He is still in the store. I heard and recognized his voice as I came down. I think he is bargaining for something with Señor José Almoreda TomasSauceda Pez. Perhaps Hotchkiss is going to adopt Mexican garments," she went on after she and Marty had giggled over their host's name.
"Good-bye to that red vest, then," grunted Marty. "Now, we've just got to catch that feller and shut him up somewhere till dad can send for him. There ain't any police here. I asked the feller I swapped my clothes with."
"Oh, Marty! did you get rid of all your good clothes—your Sunday suit?"
"Why," said Marty slowly, "I got something to boot. I didn't make such a bad bargain. Anyway, the feller I swapped with said he needed the pants awful bad."
"What for?" gasped Janice.
"Why, for somebody he called Uncle Tio. Uncle Tio's lost his—had 'em stole. I judge nobody down here ever owns more than one pair of pants at a time, and they would have hung this feller that stole Uncle Tio's if they'd caught him. 'Tisn't horse thieves they lynch down here in the Southwest; it's pants thieves!" and Marty chuckled.
"Oh, Marty!" giggled Janice. "The whole police force has gone chasing the robber who got Uncle Tio's trousers."
"Thought there weren't any police?" gasped Marty.
Janice told him about Rosita's husband.
"A sheriff, eh?" said Marty. "We'll get himto grab and hold on to Tom Hotchkiss—sure. Wonder if there's a calaboose here?"
"There must be some way of holding the man. Did you communicate with Lieutenant Cowan, Marty?"
The boy wagged his head regretfully. "Nobody knows where he is. They tell me at the telegraph office that the army is on a war basis and information about the movements of troops is not locally given out. We got to go on our own taps, I guess, Janice."
"But, Marty, I don't know what to do. About this Tom Hotchkiss, I mean."
"I know. You're mighty anxious to make the crossing and go up to Uncle Brocky's mine. So am I. But we got to grab Tom Hotchkiss first."
"If we can."
"I told dad we would," Marty said confidently. "Oh! we'll fix it. But I wish there was a constable here right now. I don't know about these sheriffs. Still, it's against the law down here to carry a gun, I s'pose, same as it is up North, unless you're a soldier or a law officer. That's why that feller that swapped clothes with me said there were no cops to bother about it."
"Why! what do you mean, Marty?" his cousin cried.
The boy drew from its hiding place in his sash a shiny "snub-nose" service revolver—a much moredeadly weapon than the army automatic, for it will shoot farther and straighter.
"This is what I got to boot in the trade," said the boy with immense pride.
"Marty!" almost shrieked Janice. "You'll shoot yourself!"
"I won't till it's loaded," returned her cousin coolly. "I got the cartridges, all right all right; but I haven't put any of 'em into the cylinder. Oh, I know about guns, Janice."
"Goodness me!" groaned the girl. "What are we coming to?"
"We'vecome," announced Marty grimly. "And it ain't any Sunday-school picnic at that. This isn't Polktown, Janice. We're at the Border. 'Tisn't no place for scare-cats, either."
"I'm no 'scare-cat,' as you call them, I should hope," said the girl indignantly.
Nevertheless she was very much disturbed by this incident. It seemed so peaceful here; they had seen scarcely a soldier in crossing Texas—none at all since leaving the train. The fact that they were so near the border-line of war-ridden Mexico was now suddenly impressed upon her mind.
"Suppose Marty should be shot?" she thought. "Oh! what would Uncle Jason and Aunt 'Mira do to me?"
"Say!" the boy suddenly interrupted the train of these thoughts and with cheerfulness. "Say!it's up to us to do something. Let's get that old don out of the store and put it to him—straight. They tell me he's the whole cheese here."
"He seems kindly disposed," Janice agreed.
"He was a high muck-a-muck in Chihuahua once upon a time. But he favored the poor people—peons, they call 'em—and old Diaz who used to boss the whole o' Mexico run him out. I guess he's one good greaser that ain't dead," and the boy grinned.
"Oh, Marty!"
"Well, maybe he can help. And if his son-in-law is sheriff——"
At that moment Don José walked out upon the porch and seated himself in his broad armchair.
"Come on," said Marty, seizing his cousin's hand.
They approached the hotel veranda. This time the proprietor did not rise to greet them. He scarcely looked at them, in truth.
But when Marty spoke Don José started upright in his chair and stared—then arose.
"By goodness! it is so!" he exclaimed. "Pardon! I did not recognize. It is, then, that you have assumed the dress of my countrymen?"
"We have to go over into Mexico and we thought it would be better if we dressed in this way," Janice explained.
"It is so," agreed the old gentleman, nodding vigorously. "And when would you go?"
"As soon as possible. But there is something——"
"Manuel is going this evening with an empty wagon," the don said. "He will take you to La Guarda for five dollars each."
"Five dollars Mex?" put in Marty shrewdly.
"But, yes."
"Oh! but how about Tom Hotchkiss——" broke in Janice.
"That feller in the red vest—the American talking with you in the store, Don José?" questioned Marty. "We want to talk to you about him."
"You know heem?" cried the old man amazedly. "Why did you not speak to heem, then? He is gone."
"Gone!" chorused the cousins.
"I sorrow to tell you—yes. He is gone this half hour. He was bargaining for my best horse, and he went out through my stables in the rear. He is already at the crossing by now.Sí, señorita.I am sure your friend—Señor Hoo-kiss, is he called?—did not see you."
Janice and Marty glanced at each other. The boy, first to find his voice, muttered:
"Of all the gooneys that ever got away from the backwoods,wetake the bun!"
"The señorita is greatly disappoint?" queried the kind old man. "Señor Hoo-kiss has gone to La Guarda. If the señorita and hercompadre," and hesmiled at Marty, "go there she may overtakelos Americanos, eh? The boy, Manuel, is to be trusted."
"We might's well go, Janice," groaned Marty. "No use even waitin' for dad to answer my telegram. It's all off about Tom Hotchkiss."
"Oh! poor Uncle Jason!" murmured Janice.
"We'll take a ride with Manuel, Don José," said Marty briskly. "And can you get us a good supper before we start?"
"I will have a chicken killed, señor," said the old man, going indoors to give the order.
"Cricky! Chicken right off the hoof," groaned Marty. "Unless they pound it like they say they do the boarding-house beefsteak, that pullet will sure be tough."
"Rosita is a good cook," Janice assured him wearily.
"She's bound to be," grinned Marty. "'Twasn't wind-pudding that made her as fat as she is, I bet."
They tried not to show each other how disappointed they were over the escape of Tom Hotchkiss. They had found him and lost him so easily! It was positive that the absconding storekeeper did not know of the presence of the cousins here; yet chance had sent him on his way before they could have the man apprehended for the swindle he had worked in Polktown. However, this misadventure made Janice's principal object in coming to theBorder loom more significantly in her thoughts. She must reach San Cristoval and the Alderdice Mine as quickly as possible.
While supper was being prepared and the two cousins waited for the teamster, Manuel, Janice talked with Don José, who was a very intelligent person indeed. He assured her that, if the journey to San Cristoval was possible at all, it could be made from La Guarda on the other side of the river as directly as from any place.
He went so far as to write a letter in Spanish, which he carefully translated for Janice's benefit, to thecacique, or mayor, really the "feudal lord" of La Guarda, asking his good offices for "my very good friends," as he politely called Janice and Marty.
"He will advise you regarding route, conveyance, and payment for services," Don José said. "Sí, sí!you have the money to pay?Poderoso Caballero es Don Dinero—a powerful gentleman is Mr. Money, señorita."
The two hurried their departure. At least, Janice and Marty hurried their preparations for leaving Don José's establishment; but nobody else hurried.
Manuel hitched in his four mules after a while. Then he ate his supper. Half an hour was consumed in picking his teeth and gossiping with Rosita.
"Hi! señor and señorita!" he finally shouted. "Los Americanos!We go—alla right?"
The wagon was merely a platform of split poles laid over the axletrees of the two pair of wheels, connected by a reach. But Marty, mindful of his cousin's comfort, had bought a bundle of thatch for a seat.
She climbed on and Marty followed. Manuel sat sidewise on the tongue just behind the mules' heels. He shouted to the animals in Spanish, and the mules were off.
It was a dusty drive to the river, but comparatively cool at this time of day. The cousins did not see the red vest of Tom Hotchkiss on the way. He had doubtless got over the river before them.
It was nine o'clock when the mules splashed down into the ford. Manuel drew up his feet carefully, so as not to get them wet, although he was barefooted.
"If they got washed he'd die of the shock," whispered Marty to Janice.
In one place the mules were body deep in the yellow, sluggish flood. Janice and Marty stood up; but the water did not rise over the platform of the wagon. In a few minutes Manuel shouted again to the mules and they fought their way up the Mexican bank.
"Viva Méjico!" ejaculated Manuel.
"What's that for?" asked Marty suspiciously.
"We haf arrived," said the teamster. "And whoever hears us," he added, squinting about in the dusk, "will know we lovela patria."
For the first time since, long before, Janice had accused Nelson Haley of taking his duties non-seriously, the Polktown School Committee was not getting full measure of the young master's attention.
The school work slipped along in its usual groove; but Nelson's mind was not fixed upon it. Indeed, his waking thoughts—even his dream fancies—were flying across the continent with Janice Day toward the Mexican Border.
The shock of learning of Janice's departure on her mission thoroughly awoke Nelson. He blamed himself for not accompanying the girl. What must she think of him? And he had not even believed her courageous enough to start alone when she had warned him of her intention!
"I was a dunce," he repeated over and over again. "Ishould know that Janice always says just what she means, means what she says, and, as Walky Dexter puts it, has more fighting pluck than a barrel of bobcats!"
Walky's tongue was the busiest of any in Polktown during the first few days following the departure of Janice and Marty Day. He was not above saying "I told you so!" to any and all who would listen to him.
He claimed to have foreseen all along Janice's intention of going to her wounded father; but he admitted that Marty had fooled him.
"Jefers-pelters! who'd ha' thought that freckled-faced kid would have sneaked out after his cousin and got the reach on all us older fellers that 'ud ha' been only too glad ter go in his stead? Sure, you'd ha' gone with Janice. I'd ha' gone myself—if my wife would ha' let me. Haw! haw! haw! But there warn't no wife ter stopyoufrom goin', Frank."
This was addressed to Frank Bowman, who had been out of town for some days and had returned to find all the neighbors vastly excited over the runaways.
"No; I have no wife. But I suppose objections might be filed if I had undertaken to go with Janice," the civil engineer said grimly. "But Marty's with her."
"Jefers-pelters! ain't he jest the greatest kid? But he'sonlya kid," added Mr. Dexter.
"Who has gone after them?" demanded Frank.
"Huh? What ye talkin' 'beout? You expect anybody could bring 'em back once they got free and foot-loose?"
"But isn't Mr. Day going on to be with them at the Border?"
"Jase? Great jumpin' bobcats! how you talk!"
"Why not?"
"I calculate Jase has got about all he can 'tend to financially lookin' out for them notes he indorsed for Tom Hotchkiss. Tom left him holdin' the bag, ye know—er—haw! haw! haw!"
"I see. No money to go with, eh?"
"That's it—if nothin' more," agreed Walky.
Frank said nothing to the town expressman about having lent Marty Day the money that the boy had evidently needed to pay his traveling expenses. Marty certainly could not be blamed. He had shown himself wiser regarding Janice and her intentions than the older folk. Marty may have handled the matter in a boyish way; but Frank Bowman did not feel like blaming his young friend.
He went up Hillside Avenue to the Day house that evening and found Nelson Haley there before him. The schoolmaster showed a surface placidity which was really no criterion of his inner feelings.
"Well, what's going to be done about it?" demanded Frank, as soon as he had pulled off his coat.
Uncle Jason passed him a yellow sheet of paper—a telegram. It had been brought over on theConstance Colfaxthat afternoon from the Landing. It was the night letter Marty had sent soon after leaving Chicago—a short night letter at that:
"I got my eye on Janice. She is all right so far."
"I got my eye on Janice. She is all right so far."
"Why, he isn't really with her, after all!" said Frank.
"Oh, but they air together, Mr. Bowman," cried Aunt 'Mira. "My min's much relieved. I didn't know but Marty had run away to kill Indians, or be a pirate, or sich, like they do in books."
"Boys don't do that even in books, nowadays, Mrs. Day," Nelson told her. "They run away from home to become jitney bus drivers, or movie actors. Indians and pirates are out of date."
"You can poke fun," smiled the woman; "but if he's with Janice he's all right."
Frank Bowman had read the telegram a second time.
"It's not altogether sure in my mind," he said in a voice too low for Mrs. Day to hear as she bustled about the kitchen, "that Marty is really with Janice. He wasn't when he sent this message at least."
"Ain't that a fac'?" exclaimed Mr. Day. "Seems like he is jest a-watchin' of her."
"For fear she'd try to send him home if he revealed his presence," was Nelson's shrewd observation.
"You're mighty right, Haley," the civil engineer agreed. "That's what he's doing."
"Wal," Mr. Day sighed, "he's near her if anything should happen so's he could be useful. But I ain't easy in my mind. A gal like her dependin' on a boy like him——"
"I don't suppose you could find it possible to go down there yourself, Mr. Day?" suggested Frank. "Even if we could find out just where they were heading for?"
"I snum! I dunno how I could," groaned Mr. Day. "It'd seem fair impossible. I tell you frankly, boys, Tom Hotchkiss has left me flat. The elder—bless his hide, for he was never knowed to do sech a thing afore—has offered to take up the fust note I indorsed for Tom, and which is now due. Otherwise I should be holdin' a auction, I guess. I'm in bad shape."
"It's too bad, Mr. Day," sighed Nelson. "Is the bank going to press you for every cent?"
"They ain't feeling so friendly as they did at fust," Uncle Jason admitted. "At fust it was hoped that something might be recovered from the stock in the store and the fixtures. But Tom Hotchkiss was thorough; ye gotter give him credit for that. He'd what they call hypothecated every stitch, and we couldn't even tetch the money in the till—no, sir!"
"Too bad," mused Nelson.
"Hewasa rascal!" exclaimed Frank.
"He was shrewd," admitted Uncle Jason. "An' as nice spoken an' palaverin' a cuss as ever I see."
"Sh! Jason! don't swear that-a-way—an' you a perfessin' member."
"Wal, no use cryin' over the cream the cat lickedoff'n the top of the pan—it's gone," groaned Uncle Jason. "Andhe'sgone. They tell me the detecatifs the Bankers' Association put on his track can't find hide nor hair of him up toward Canady.
"An' then," Uncle Jason went on to say, "the bank people hev l'arned a thing or two that didn't please 'em. Of course, 'tain't none o' their business, but they'd seen Janice scurryin' around Middletown in that little car o' hern and they got it fixed in their heads we Days must be mighty well off."
"Reflected glory, eh?" suggested Nelson.
"Dunno about the glory part," sniffed Uncle Jason. "But I have an idee they thought I had so much money I could put my hand right in my pocket and pay these notes of Tom's in a bunch. They are all call notes, of course. And the bank is tryin' to make the court order me to take 'em up at once."
"That is not a very neighborly thing to do," said Frank.
"They seem to be afraid if I'm given time I'll try to cover up some o' my assets. I snum! when a man's in difficulties with one o' these banks his past repertation for honesty don't amount to shucks—no, sir!"
But the main topic of conversation on this evening was the journey of Janice and Marty. What were they doing at this very moment? Where were they on the railroad train? For what point on the Border were they aiming?
Frank figured out, from the date and sending point of the telegram, the probable route of the absent ones to the Mexican line. Yet they could not be sure of even this. Not knowing on what train Janice and Marty traveled, it was impossible to send an answer to Marty's telegram.
"In all probability, however," Frank explained, "El Paso is their ultimate destination, or some town of that string along the Rio Grande touched by the Texas-Pacific. San Cristoval is to be reached more directly from that locality than in any other way, now that the Mexican International is out of commission."
"Oh! don't say they'll really get into Mexico, Mr. Bowman!" cried Aunt 'Mira, who had come into the sitting room now. "They won't be let, will they?"
"Almiry's got the idee," said Mr. Day, "that there's a file of sojers with fixed bayonets standin' all along the aidge of that Rio Grande River, keepin' folks from crossin' over."
"You'd find such a guard at El Paso bridge, all right," Frank said. "But there are plenty of places where the river can be forded, unless raised by infrequent floods. Those who wish to, go back and forth into Mexican territory as they please—no doubt of that."
"But Janice and Marty won't know nothing aboutthat!" cried Mrs. Day.
"Trust Marty for finding out anything he needs to know," put in Nelson, yet with a gloomy air.
"You're right there," Frank added. "He isn't tongue-tied."
"Oh, dear!" sighed Aunt 'Mira. "I don't know as shooting Indians or turning pirate would be much worse. They say them Mexicanersdoshoot people."
"I snum, yes!" ejaculated Mr. Day. "They shot Broxton, didn't they?"
"Oh! you don't s'pose they've got a grudge against the Days, do ye?" cried the anxious woman. "Maybe they'll act jest as mean as they kin toward any of our fambly."
"No, I do not believe that, Mrs. Day," Nelson hastened to assure her. "Janice and Marty will be in no more danger down there than any other Americans. Only——"
"Only what, Mr. Haley?" asked Aunt 'Mira.
"They shouldn't be there alone. Somebody should be with them," said the schoolmaster desperately.
"Ain't that the trewth?" cried Aunt 'Mira. "I wish I was with 'em myself. I read in theFireside Fav'ritethat 'tain't considered a proper caper, anyway, for a young gal to go anywhere much alone without a chaperon."
At this moment there came a rap upon the side porch door. Aunt 'Mira rose to respond, and as she went into the little boxlike hall she failed to quiteclose the sitting room door. Therefore the trio left behind heard plainly the following dialogue:
"Miz' Scattergood! I declare, how flustered you look. Come in—do."
"No wonder I'm flustered. I—I—— No, I won't come no farther than the hall, Miz' Day. I'll tell ye here."
"Oh! what is it?" gasped Aunt 'Mira. "Nothin's happened to 'Rill?"
"That's jest what it is. Oh, Miz' Day, I'm an ol' fool!"
The fact that Mrs. Scattergood was frankly weeping was what held the trio of men in the sitting room silent.
"What you done now?" demanded Aunt 'Mira with a grimness that seemed to point to her special knowledge of her visitor's foolishness on previous occasions. "I told her the trewth——"
"My soul an' body, Miz' Scattergood, the trewth in your hands is jest as dangerous as a loaded gun. What did you tell her?"
"'Bout Janice. Hopewell had been keeping it from her—that Janice had gone away, ye know. Gone away to Mexico, I mean. And when I told her it scart her so—— I come right over for you, Miz' Day. You're sech a master-hand when a body's sick."
"Dr. Poole been there?"
"Yes. An' he's afeard——"
"You wait jest a minute," said Mrs. Day. "I'll put on somethin' an' go with ye. But 'tis my opinion, Sarah Scattergood, that you oughter wear a muzzle!"
The heavy woman bustled about for her things without saying a word to her husband and the young men until she was ready for departure.
"I'm going over to Hopewell Drugg's, Jase. You'll hafter git along as best you kin till I come back. There's bread in the breadbox an' a whole jar of doughnuts. Be sure an' keep the butt'ry door shut and put out the cat. There's suet tryin' out in the oven—don't fergit it when ye make the fire in the mornin'. Maybe I'll be back by mornin'; but Rill's took a bad turn an' I shell stay if I'm needed. Goo' night, Mr. Haley. Goo' night, Mr. Bowman."
She went out, following the birdlike Mrs. Scattergood. Soon after Nelson and Frank strolled down Hillside Avenue together. Frank had been as silent as the schoolmaster for some time. At last he said:
"When will you start?"
Nelson jumped. His face flushed and then paled and he stared with darkening eyes into his companion's countenance.
"You—you're a mind reader," he said at last, trying to laugh.
"I only know whatI'ddo if I were in your shoes," the civil engineer said. "I know how youfeel. I couldn't bear it as well as you have if my—— Well, if anybody belonging to me as Janice does to you, Haley, were taking such a trip."
Nelson groaned. "I don't know what to do. The School Committee will raise a row——"
"Let 'em," Frank said briskly. "You're making it harder for yourself to go by thinking of your duties here. Cut loose! If you went to the hospital with a broken leg they'd have to get along without you. This is a whole lot more important than a broken leg."
"You're right!" groaned Nelson, who felt himself roweled by circumstances. "I must go."
"When?"
"It will have to be after the bank opens to-morrow."
"You'll go from Middletown, then? I'll see if I can get you transportation for part of the way to Chicago at least. You're a member of my family," and Frank grinned.
"That's awfully good of you," responded Nelson.
"And say!"
"What is it?" asked the schoolmaster.
"How are you fixed financially? I can put my hands on a little more money. You see, I expect it is on some of my money that Marty got away."
"What do you mean?"
"I lent him most of the money I had about me," confessed Frank. "I didn't know what he wantedit for—the young rascal! But if you need more than you have handy——"
"Thanks ever so much, Bowman; but I've quite a little saved up now. I sha'n't need such help asthat."
They parted on the corner and Nelson went home to Mrs. Beaseley's to write his resignation from the situation of principal of the Polktown school. He was very sure that to leave the school board in the lurch in this way, with less than twenty-four hours' notice, would terminate his engagement in this school for all time.
"But I must go after Janice—Imust!" he thought, tossing wakefully in his bed. "I can wait no longer."
Janice and Marty, clinging together on the rough platform of Manuel's wagon for fear of falling off, saw very little of the country through which they traveled that evening. That the way was rough they knew, and that sparse trees bordered it on either hand was likewise apparent even in the dusk. But they saw no habitations and no light save the distant stars.
The mules rattled on at a jog-trot, while Manuel beguiled the way with untranslatable songs in the vernacular. If Marty asked him a question about the way or the distance or the time, all Manuel said was:
"We reech there preety soon,hombre—alla right!"
By and by they did espy lights ahead. It was then almost midnight. A group of horsemen arose suddenly like shadows out of the mesquite and hailed the driver.
"Viva Méjico!" squalled Manuel before he could pull his mules to a standstill.
A sharp demand in Spanish made Janice cower inher place on the reach and cling more tightly to Marty's hand. They listened to Manuel chattering a reply in which was included Don José's name. In a moment they were driving on, undisturbed.
"That chief, huh!heknow the good Don José," Manuel said to his passengers.
"Suppose he hadnotknown him?" drawled Marty in the semi-gloom.
They could see that Manuel shrugged his shoulders; but he made no other reply.
The twinkling lights of La Guarda were now near at hand. They were not halted but rattled into the sprawling little town and on to a large, square, low building, the entrance to which was a wide and dimly lighted archway.
"Hi tunket!" breathed Marty. "It looks like a police station. D'you s'pose we're going to be pinched, Janice?"
But he grinned as he asked the question and got down nonchalantly enough, to help his cousin alight.
"Not much like the calaboose at Middletown," he observed.
"You horrid boy!" Janice said. "Are you trying to scare me?"
"Couldn't do it," declared Marty with admiration. "You're a reg'lar feller, Janice."
"Thank you, dear. I know you mean to compliment me. Now, what is Manuel doing?"
The teamster had called some question into the empty archway of the building, repeating it several times. There now appeared a little, shrewd-looking Spaniard without a spear of hair on either head or face, and wearing a flapping gown over what was plainly his pajamas.
Manuel and this apparition gabbled in their own tongue for several minutes; then the teamster gestured toward the bald man, saying to Marty:
"Señor Don Abreguardo. He will tak' you in—alla right.Mi dinero, señor."
This was a request for payment, as Marty very well knew, so the boy handed over a five-dollar gold piece. Manuel looked at the coin suspiciously, bit it, rang it on one of the flagstones, weighed it thoughtfully in his palm, and finally pocketed it and drove off without further word.
"What do you know about that?" murmured Marty.
Janice had already turned to the old man in the flapping gown. He bowed very low to her.
"Within," he said clearly, in good English if a little stilted in diction—"within lies my poor house. We Mexicans have no word for 'home,' señorita; butla patriameans more than country. All I possess savela patrialies herein. It is yours."
"Why, he is even more polite than Don José," whispered the girl as they followed the Mexican who had evidently got out of bed to attend them.
"Ye-as," Marty said slowly. "But it seems to me they offer too much."
"They are not as cautious as us Yankees," his cousin said, smiling.
"Nowyou've said a mouthful," announced the boy with emphasis.
The passage through the wall led to a roomy court around which the house was built. There was the tinkle of water falling into a basin, the fresh smell of vegetation, and by the light of the stars Janice saw that trees were growing here.
"It is late, señorita and señor. My family have retired. I will assign you both rooms and in the morning we will become acquainted—eh?" said the don. "This way, please. You are brother and sister?"
"Cousins," Janice explained.
"Ah—yes. You would not be separate far—eh? This room for you, then, señorita. The next on the right for our young señor—eh?"
Lamps burned in both rooms. They were comfortably furnished and the stone floor had rugs upon it.
"You will be undisturbed here, I assure you. In the morning, señorita, a woman will wait upon you."
He bowed and clattered away in his hard, heel-less slippers.
"Seems like a good sort of a creature, after all," Marty said. "Don Abreguardo, eh?"
Janice made no reply save to bid him good-night and entered her room. She had lost that feeling of uncertainty and actual fear that had oppressed her. The future promised more cheer than she had believed possible.
Those back in Polktown had been entirely wrong. Her own judgment seemed to have been the sounder. Here she was, over the Border, miles on the way to her wounded father!
"And everybody so kind!" she thought as she sank to sleep on the comfortable couch under the canopy. "Only I wish we might have caused the arrest of that Tom Hotchkiss."
It seemed to the weary girl as though she closed her eyes and opened them immediately upon the broad sunshine and the tinkling fountain in the court of Don Abreguardo's dwelling. She heard Marty's voice and that of their host outside.
Janice arose and found herself well rested after her repose. She drew the lattices at the window and their clatter aroused something else.
Just inside her closed door, leaning against the wall, was something she had not before noticed. It looked like a bag of old clothes covered by a purpleserape. This began to move, quite startling the girl for an instant.
Theserapewas put aside languidly and a bare brown arm appeared. Janice retreated to the other side of the canopied bed and watched. A girl's headwas revealed—lank, black hair, a very dark face with high cheek bones, bead-black eyes, and huge silver rings hanging in the lobes of her ears, fairly touching her bared shoulders.
"What do you want here?" gasped Janice.
"I am the one sent, señorita!" ejaculated the girl in English. "I help you, señorita. It is an honor." And, having risen quickly and as gracefully as a panther, she bowed.
"Oh! you are the maid?"
"Sí, señorita!"
Janice decided she must be an Indian—one of pure blood. There was a look about her different from that of the Mexican girls she had seen.
"What is your name?" asked the girl from the North, giving herself up to the ministrations of the maid, who seemed quite skillful.
"Luz, señorita, is what I am called. It is the little name for Lucita, señorita."
"You have worked long for Don Abreguardo?"
"I was born in the house, señorita," said the girl, with a flash of her white teeth.
"Is there a large family?" Janice asked doubtfully. "I am a stranger, you know."
"His mother lives—the ancient Donna Abreguardo. He now has his second wife, has the good don. By his first he has two daughters and a son. Young Don Ricardo is married and is at the Hacienda del Norte. The two señoritas are of themarriageable age—oh, yes! But in these troubled times who has thought for marriage?"
"And this is all his family?"
"There are the children. Three. Of the good don's second marriage. He has his quiver full, as my people say," and the Indian maid chuckled.
She seemed so intelligent that Janice would have continued the conversation had she not heard Marty moving so impatiently about the courtyard.
"Come on, Janice!" he said as she appeared. "There's breakfast waiting—and it ain'tallbeans. I'm as hungry as a shark."
A table was laid, with covered dishes on it, near the fountain. The courtyard was a clean, comfortable place. The style of living familiar to the Abreguardos was of course entirely new to Janice and her cousin. "Luz" waited upon the guests.
Don Abreguardo came bustling into the court before they had finished the repast. Now that he was dressed, he proved to be a very dapper figure of an old gentleman, his bald poll hidden by a cap.
"This is a fine day—by goodness, yes!" he announced. "Have you attended the señorita with diligence, Luz?"
"As I would the Donna Isabella herself," declared the Indian handmaid.
"You may bring my coffee here. We will talk."
It seemed it was a coffee-making machine he desired. He was very particular about his coffee, wasDon Abreguardo—liked it black and thick and drank it without sugar or cream.
While the coffee dripped he said, bowing to Janice:
"I have read the letter from my very good friend, Don José Pez, which you so kindly gave me last night, señorita. He tells me you have need of haste in making your way to Los Companos District?"
"It is true, sir," Janice said eagerly. "My father was wounded quite three weeks ago. So we heard. Since then we have not learned a thing about him."
"He is at one mine beyond San Cristoval?"
"The Alderdice. He has been chief man there for more than three years."
"Sí, sí!I understand," said Señor Abreguardo. "There has been trouble in that vicinity, it is true. But it seems things always quiet down—even the worst."
After this more or less comforting assurance the old man sat thinking for a minute or two with lips pursed. Now and then he took sips of his first cup of coffee.
"Were your haste not what it is, señorita," he said at length, "I would urge you to remain—you and your youngcompadre—until I might send for certain news of your father. But you are anxious in your mind—by goodness, yes!"
"Oh! indeed I am," cried Janice.
"Then we must forego the pleasure of your presence here at my poor dwelling," the señor said politely. "There is a way of going soon, I believe, to San Cristoval. Carlitos Ortez goes in his gas-car—histin Leezie, he call it. You know?" and their host grinned suddenly.
"Cricky! an automobile?" gasped Marty. "Just the caper!"
"Sí, sí!" said Señor Abreguardo. "Carlitos, he swear by thetin Leezie. He will take you to San Cristoval if his car, it do not br-r-eak down—by goodness, yes!
"I hear," the man went on, nodding and still sipping coffee, "last evening before you arrive, señorita, Carlitos have engage to transport another traveler up country. He may take three passengers in his car as easily as one—and you will pay him twenty American dollars apiece."
"Whew!" murmured the frugal Marty. "Couldn't we buy his flivver for that and run it ourselves?"
The señor's eyes twinkled. "He would charge you double—I assure you," he said. "Carlitos is no lover oflos Americanos. But he will do asIsay. Besides," added the man very sensibly, "you would not know the road, and no American unattended could easily pass the bands of rovers now infesting this district."
"Sounds nice, don't it?" whispered Marty to Janice. "What say?"
"Oh, Marty! Imustgo on," said the girl.
"Sure! All right, we take you," said Marty to Señor Abreguardo.
"You will pay Carlitos Ortez half of the money before you start—pay it intomyhands," explained the don. "And the end of your journey—San Cristoval, for he cannot go beyond that point—you will pay him the remainder and give him a paper assuring me that he has performed his part of the contract. You are thus safeguarded, and I shall have done my duty by Don José's friends," concluded Señor Abreguardo, bowing over his coffee cup.