Carlitos Ortez was one of those snaky-looking, black-haired peons, with a wisp of jetty mustache, who serve as the type of Mexican villains in lurid melodrama—and he had the heart of a child!
Janice might have been afraid of the quick-motioned, nervous little man had she been of a less observant nature. But she saw his eyes—deep brown, placid like a forest pool. The eyes served to make Carlitos almost handsome.
The automobile came to the archway of Señor Abreguardo's house in an hour. Janice and Marty did not meet any of the man's family. The Indian maiden, Lucita, told Janice that the ladies of the household seldom stirred from their apartments until aftersiesta.
But the don himself stood bareheaded in the sun to see them start. Carlitos had put Janice and Marty into the back of the car.
"That otherhombre—I peek him up later. He sit weeth me," he explained.
When they got under way with a good deal of rattle and banging, Marty, jouncing against hiscousin as the car went over a stone in the road, sniffed.
"'Tin Lizzie!' He said it!" the boy growled. "This jitney's about one-candle power, isn't it? D'you s'pose there're any springs—ugh—on the contraption at all?"
"Let's not fuss," said Janice. "Think how much worse it would be if we had to ride horses—or mules. All of those I have seen have been half wild."
"Hi tunket! this flivver's wild enough, I should think," Marty declared, as the car skidded around a corner.
La Guarda was not a large town, and they were not long in getting to the edge of it. Under the shade of a low-roofed tavern a man was standing—quite a bulky man.
"There ees my other passenger," said Carlitos over his shoulder. "He oflos Americanos, too. I theenk he go up country to buy horses. He horse trader. Sell beeg horse last night to Don Abreguardo."
Janice had seized Marty's hand and squeezed it hard. She was not listening to Carlitos, but staring at the man on the veranda of the tavern.
He wore one of the high-crowned, wide-brimmed hats of the country; but he was not otherwise dressed like the Mexicans. His waistcoat made a vivid splotch of color as he stood in the shade.
"Cricky!" gasped Marty. "Tom Hotchkiss! red vest, an' all!"
"Oh, itis, Marty!" agreed his cousin.
"And we can't do a thing to him!" groaned the boy. "He's gettin' farther away from the Border; afraid of being nabbed, I s'pose."
"I hope he will not recognize us."
"We'll be dummies. Keep that veil thing over your face, Janice, then he won't know you from one of these greaser girls. An' he'll take me for a Mexican, too."
"Thank you!" murmured Janice tartly, and Marty grinned teasingly.
There was no time for further planning. The automobile halted, panting, at the tavern and the man wearing the red vest came out with his bag.
Close to, he was not to be mistaken for anybody but Tom Hotchkiss, the absconding Polktown storekeeper. He was a man of girth, with short legs. His head was set low upon a pair of heavy shoulders. Indeed, he possessed little visible neck—scarcely enough on which to put a collar.
Tom Hotchkiss was of the apoplectic build to suffer in a warm climate; and the sun, even at this time of year, seemed almost tropical to these New Englanders. He had discarded none of his ordinary dress save his hat, and that looked incongruous enough with his brown cutaway coat, the red vest, gray trousers, and spats.
"He certainlyisa hot member to look at," muttered Marty Day, as the man approached the car.
Hotchkiss stared curiously at the other passengers; but Janice hid her face with her veil and the broad brim of Marty's hat quite sheltered his freckled countenance from casual observation.
"Friends of Don Abreguardo, señor," explained Carlitos. "They go weeth us."
He cranked up again, and the automobile began to shake and quiver "like an elephant with the palsy," to quote the disgusted Marty.
"Say!" he whispered, "this isn't much like your Kremlin—believe me!"
They started. A dog got up from his bed in the dust of the road, yapped at them languidly, and lay down again in his form. The car skidded around another corner and they were immediately in the open country. Climbing a long hill the automobile seemed a dozen times on the point of being stalled; but no—she kept pluckily on to the summit.
On the down-grade beyond this rise the car went so fast—thumping and crashing over outcropping roots and other obstructions—that Janice cried out in alarm.
"If we don't meet nothin' we're all right—eh?" shouted Carlitos above the roar of the car. "The brake, she done bust."
"Huh!" muttered Marty. "One thing sure, we can go as fast as this old 'tin Lizzie' can."
This did not sound altogether reassuring to Janice. She unlatched the door on her side of the tonneau, ready to jump out if it looked as though the reckless driver was about to bring them to disaster.
The man in the red vest hung on to the side, and, short as his neck was, the two passengers in the tonneau could see that roll of fat above the collar of his shirt turning pale!
"Tom's getting white around the gills," whispered Marty to his cousin, chuckling. "He frightens easy. I wonder if we could scare him into giving up thatcashand helping dad?"
"But—but he surely ha-hasn't all that mo-money with him," was jounced out of Janice's lips in a staccato whisper.
"He ain't forgot where he put it nor how to get hold of it again, you bet!" growled Marty. "Hi tunket! this sun ought to sweat it out of him. Ain't it hot?"
"And dusty," sighed Janice. "Oh, thank goodness! here's the bottom of the hill."
Carlitos grinned back at them—the smile of a wolf, but with his kind eyes twinkling.
"How you do, eh? The señorita not like such traveling—by goodness, no?" he said. "But if we travel not fast on the—what you call?—down-grade, we not travel far, perhaps, yes?"
Janice covered her countenance and made noreply, for the startled face of Hotchkiss was likewise turned back.
"You don't have to go so fast onmyaccount," he snarled. "I got all the time there is."
"Cricky!" whispered Marty. "I'd like to hear him say that after the judge and jury get through with him. He ought to getlifefor what he's done."
"Sh!" begged Janice. "It will do no good to quarrel with him here."
They rattled on through a pleasant valley, with here and there a bunch of cattle or horses grazing. Occasionally avaquerodashed past and waved his hand in greeting to Carlitos Ortez. The latter seemed to fall into a gloomy mood and for two hours did not speak.
Then he stopped the car beside a well at the edge of the chaparral and there in the shade the passengers alighted, while Carlitos filled his radiator and tinkered with parts of the machine that seemed to need attention.
Janice and Marty managed to keep away from Tom Hotchkiss and spoke only in low tones. Perhaps the man with the red vest believed his fellow-passengers to be Mexicans, like Carlitos.
"Who owns all this land?" Hotchkiss asked.
Carlitos jerked his head out from under the car where he had been fumbling, and scowled.
"By the right of God, señor,Iown part of it. All ofMéjicois ours—the people's. We own. But thereech and the strong have taken away our lands—by goodness, yes!"
"Well, you haven't got anything on folks everywhere," declared Hotchkiss. "The strong and the shrewd get it all—you bet!"
"This," and Carlitos swept a gesture including all the valley, "is therancheroof Señor Baldasso Nunez. He is a buzzard."
"Yes?"
"His father was a buzzard before him—the old señor. Look you!" cried Carlitos with growing excitement. "My grandfather was a boy in the old señor's time. He is past eighty now and still working for the present Señor Baldasso."
"A long while to keep one job," said Hotchkiss.
"Listen, señor! At sixteen my grandfather was a big, fine, strong man—likeme. He wish to marry a certain girl—she is my grandmother. Well! It is so that the old señor hear about my grandfather's wish—by goodness, yes! He send to my grandfather and offer a hundred pesos so he may pay the priest for to marry him and my grandfather accept, señor."
"That was mighty neighborly of the señor," observed the Yankee storekeeper.
"Yes-s?" hissed Carlitos. "One hundred pesos, mind—and the Church take all of that. Between the church and the landowners we are ground to powder!
"Mind you, señor, it was for becoming man and wife, and for the raising of seven sons and daughters and, now, of over thirty ofmygeneration. My grandfather and all the men and boys living of his race, save me and a brother who is with the raiders, are still working for Señor Baldasso to pay off that hundred pesos!
"What you think of that, señor, huh?"
"Aw—that don't seem sensible," said Hotchkiss. "Haven't you paid the original debt?"
"Sí, señor! that is the truth. Always are we kep' in debt to Señor Baldasso.Me, I get out—turn outlaw you say—buy this 'tin Leezie'—mak' money plenty. But none of it go to that Señor Baldasso—by goodness, no!"
"So you aren't helping pay off the family debt?" drawled Hotchkiss.
"No, señor. Sometime I hope to," said Carlitos grimly.
"Yes?"
"At once. All of a piece. You understand?"
"You mean you're going to make money enough to close the account with the old man?"
"Not money," and Carlitos smiled his wolf-like smile again. "I hope to help hang Señor Baldasso at the door of his ownhacienda—by goodness, yes!"
Marty exploded a mighty "Cricky!" Then he asked: "Isthatwhy you Mexicans are fighting all the time?"
"To get back our land—our own. To govern ourselves.Sí, señor," Carlitos declared eagerly. "We long for a deliverer—a devoted leader who will free us from taskmasters both native and foreign. But we desire no foreign intervention—by goodness, no! Hands off, gringos. I weesh that Rio Grande," he concluded, pointing into the northeastern distance, "were ten thousand miles wide."
"Heh!" ejaculated Tom Hotchkiss, peering in the direction Carlitos pointed. "Isthatthe river—just over there?"
"It is five miles away, señor."
"But I thought you were taking me away from the river all this time?" sputtered the other. "Why! that's the Border, isn't it?"
"But yes, señor. We have to follow the road. I cannot drive the tin Leezie through the chaparral."
"I don't like it," muttered the man. "I thought we were already a long way from the States."
Marty nudged his cousin. "Scart as he can be, Janice," he whispered. "'By goodness, yes!' I believe if we had the time, we could march old Red Vest back over the Border and clap him into jail!"
The party got under way once more, Carlitos again silent and, Janice thought, Tom Hotchkiss eyeing her and Marty from time to time suspiciously. The fugitive had discovered that the couple in the back of the car were not Mexicans, and Hotchkiss was suspicious of all Americans. Indeed, he was living a very uneasy existence. Being naturally of a cowardly nature, even the distance he had put between himself and Polktown did not seem to his mind great enough to insure safety. The fact that, although they had been four hours on the road from La Guarda to San Cristoval, they were only five miles from the Rio Grande, greatly excited him.
Had their errand to San Cristoval and beyond not been so pressing, Janice and Marty might have conspired with Carlitos to get the swindling storekeeper back over the Border at some point where an American law officer could be found.
Janice believed she could do this. She was feeling much more certain of herself than she had on the train. Two days at the Border had made a great change in Janice Day. Marty was not the only independent one. The girl felt that, after all, the world outside her heretofore sheltered life was not so very difficult.
Thus far she had met nothing but kindness from people whom she had not expected to be kind. The way to her father seemed to be wide open before her. She was going to accomplish her mission without an iota of the trouble she had feared.
However, as this was not the time to make the attempt to bring Hotchkiss to justice she pulled the veil closer over her face and avoided the man's eyes when he chanced to look back. She hoped the fellow was just worried. Of course, being a thief and a swindler, he was suspicious of everybody. He showed very plainly that he distrusted even Carlitos. The Mexican, however, seemed in a cheerful mood again. His outbreak against the "buzzard," Señor Baldasso Nunez, must have relieved his mind.
They rattled up hill and down dale. Don Abreguardo's handmaid had put a basket of lunch into the car. At another well they stopped and ate this, Janice offering some to Carlitos and to his fat and perspiring seat mate.
"But yes, señorita," Carlitos said politely. "We do not reach La Gloria till sunset. Then we eat at Tomas Lopez's hotel. Fine hotel—by goodness, yes!"
"Why didn't you tell me it was so far?" grumbled Tom Hotchkiss. "I would have brought something along to eat."
Carlitos shrugged his shoulders. "I forget," he said. "Me, I have plent' tobac' for roll cigareet; what more anyhombreneed, I see not!"
They went on, passing through a village now and then. Having turned now directly from the river, Tom Hotchkiss seemed in a better mood. He commented frankly upon the miserable habitations and the miserable people he saw.
"I don't see what they get out of it," he observed. "Filthy rags to clothe them, nothing to eat but beans, and most of the houses no better than pig-stys. Why! even the chickens—look at 'em, will you? They ain't fit to eat, they're so scrawny."
"They are not for eat, señor," said Carlitos softly. "They are for fight."
"For fighting, you mean?"
"Sí, señor. The Mexican may be poor, but never too poor to fight good game cock on Sunday after mass—by goodness, yes!"
In one of the villages Carlitos slowed down—then stopped. There was a group of old women squatting in the street before the door of an adobe dwelling. They swayed from side to side, moaning in unison, while now and then one would lift up her head and wail aloud.
"What is the matter with them?" demanded Janice.
Carlitos had removed his hat and crossed himself, muttering a prayer. "It is a funeral, señorita," he explained. "See! they carry heem to his grave."
Four men came forth from the house, carrying a packing case on their shoulders. This makeshift casket had stenciled on its end: "Glass. Use No Hooks." The intimation that the corpse was so fragile amused Marty.
"Hi tunket!" he murmured. "Don't these folks down here beat ev'rything you ever saw Janice?"
The old women mourners scuttled out of the way. A band of three musicians, whose instruments consisted of a cornet, a piccolo, and a drum, appeared and headed the procession. All the village fell in behind the band and the pall-bearers, two and two, and when they turned out of the main street to mount the hill toward the cemetery, Carlitos cranked up again and the car went on, leaving the funeral cortège marching blithely to the strains of a well-known Mexican air.
The wail of the cornet, the squealing of the piccolo, and the rattle of the drum accompanied the automobile out of town and a long way into the country. They began to mount into higher ground the farther they got from the river. It was almost sunset as Carlitos had prophesied when they saw La Gloria lying above them on a cheerful mesa.
The town was nearly ringed around by green trees. The main streets were paved. The plaza, orcentral square, was gay with shops and there was a bandstand. Señor Tomas Lopez's hotel was about on a par with the Pez hostelry at Fort Hancock.
But after the dusty and nerve-racking ride in the automobile a chance for quiet, a bath, and relaxation between the clean coarse sheets of a bed, seemed heavenly to Janice Day. She really did not want to get up for supper.
Marty, however, kept calling to her and would not be denied. He had found out that there was beefsteak—of a sort—for supper.
"I never did realize before," he sadly admitted, "how tired a feller could get of just beans. I never want ma, when I get home again, to have 'em on Saturday nights and Sunday mornings—never! Shucks! I feel like I was turning into a bean myself. I bet if you planted me I'd sprout into a beanstalk."
They sat in the window till late in the evening and watched the people in the square. There was a band and it played some of the popular airs they were familiar with in the North. But when it essayed the native music Janice liked it better.
Old and young promenaded, the girls in bright costumes, the youngcaballerosin garments quite as gay—sashes, short velvet jackets, sombreros with cords of silver bullion, and some of them with clattering silver spurs on their heels. Here and there scuffled an Indian through the throng in abrightly dyedserape. The older women sat on benches or in the arched doorways, many of them smoking big, black cigars. And the children were everywhere, but more nearly dressed than they had been at the Border. Up here on the mesa the nights were chilly.
They got out of La Gloria very early in the morning, for Carlitos assured them it would be a long day's journey to San Cristoval even if nothing happened to the automobile.
"An' me, I never know when she goin' to break down," he said with one of his disarming smiles.
Hotchkiss quarreled with the Mexican before the party got off. "How do I know where you're takin' me? I can't buy a map of the country—don't believe they evermadeone down here. And who are these folks I'm a-travelin' with? I thought they were Mex; but I see they are white folks."
"What amI—nigger, huh?" demanded Carlitos, "You not lik-a travel weeth me, you pay me an' stop here. I no care."
"We won't bite you, Mister," drawled Marty, keeping well in the background, however. "What are you scared of?"
"What's your name?" growled Hotchkiss suspiciously.
"Down here it's George Washington. What's yours?" returned Marty, chuckling and backing still further away.
"Just as near Abraham Lincoln as yours is George Washington," snarled Hotchkiss.
Marty and Janice got into the car, having gone around back of it to enter from the opposite side. Hotchkiss climbed in beside the Mexican driver, still muttering about "not knowing where he was bound for."
The road was rougher than it had been the day before and much of the way it was ascending. So the automobile went slowly. The engine sputtered—and so did Tom Hotchkiss. Carlitos was sunk in sullen mood and his comments—usually addressed to the car—were in Spanish, and scarcely translatable.
Janice became exceedingly weary before the morning was half over. Riding over plowed ground in a springless cart would have been little worse than being jounced about in this automobile.
They did not rest even duringsiesta, only stopping long enough for Carlitos to mend his car with a piece of wire and what Janice supposed must be much Spanish profanity. The journey was getting on the Mexican's nerves as it was upon that of his passengers.
At certain places they were stopped by rough-looking men—some of them armed. Carlitos made his explanations in his own tongue. Tom Hotchkiss was growing visibly panic-stricken. He had doubtless been afraid of arrest on the United Statesside of the Border; but the appearance of these bands of seemingly masterless vagabonds frightened the runaway storekeeper from Polktown still more.
It was mid-afternoon and the automobile was limping along through a wild valley, when above the coughing of the engine Janice heard therat-a-planof hoofbeats. She looked around earnestly, and finally spied a company of horsemen charging cross-country toward the trail the automobile was following.
"Oh! who are those?" she cried, leaning forward to place her hand on Carlitos' shoulder.
He looked up, saw the cavalcade, and jerked the steering wheel a little. They bumped into a bowlder, the car shot back, and then the engine died with an awful rattle.
"Carramba!" sputtered Carlitos. "We have the accident now—yes, huh?"
"But who are those men?" repeated Janice. "They see us. They are coming this way."
Carlitos stood up to look. He shrugged his shoulders.
"That is Dario Gomez riding in their lead. He is a great bandit chief, señorita. Now we are—what you call?—in for it—by goodness, yes!"
They had halted beside a dense patch of chaparral. Carlitos had scarcely thrown his verbal bomb when Tom Hotchkiss slid out of his seat and dived into the thicket beside the narrow road like a wood-chuck into its hole. No fat man ever disappeared more quickly.
Janice and Marty were too disturbed by the announcement of the automobile driver, and too startled withal, to note Hotchkiss' departure. The bandits, headed by Dario Gomez, swung into the trail and charged immediately down upon the stalled automobile.
The band consisted of nearly forty—an unusually large and importantcommando, as the Mexican banditti rove the country mostly in small parties, preying on whomever may have anything worth taking, and keeping up a desultory warfare against the troops of whatever de facto government may at the time be in power in Mexico City.
"Hi tunket!" exploded Marty. "What are we going to do now?"
Carlitos shrugged his shoulders, sat down, and began to roll the ever present cigarette. "As the young señor says, ''I tunkeet!'" quoted the Mexican. "What can we do but submeet?"
"Submit to what, Carlitos?" whispered Janice. "What is the danger from these men?"
"Quién sabe?" drawled the driver of the car. "We are in the hands of God, señorita."
The leader of the fierce-looking band was a man with long, wavingmustachios, a regular piratical-looking hirsute adornment. He carried a white, ugly scar across his right cheek—evidently the memento of a more or less recent saber wound. He spoke first of all in Spanish to Carlitos while his wildly riding followers—plainlyvaquerosall—dragged their mounts back to a dramatic halt about the stalled car, surrounding the party with a cloud of dust.
Carlitos drawled a reply and gestured toward his remaining passengers. Dario Gomez exclaimed:
"Americanos—and in the habit of friends? What means this?"
He spoke very good English. His eyes flashed, but his mustache lifted at the corners as though he laughed.
Marty was tongue-tied for the moment. The threatening aspect of the cavalcade and especially of Dario Gomez himself was too much for the nonchalance of the boy. Even the hidden weapon inhis sash gave him no comfort, for these "forty thieves" were all armed to the teeth.
It was a difficult situation. Carlitos evidently had no help to offer. Indeed he seemed to feel no particular responsibility, though he was not closely associated with these lusty vagabonds.
"What means this masquerade, señor and señorita?" Dario Gomez repeated.
It was Janice who stepped into the breach—and stepped from the car as well. She approached the charger ridden by the bandit chief, putting aside the veil that had half hidden her face.
"Señor," she said earnestly, "will you not help me get to my father? The car has broken down and we are still a long way from San Cristoval—are we not, Carlitos?"
"Huh? By goodness, yes!" replied the amazed driver.
"My cousin and I," pursued Janice Day, "have come across the States to find my father—from far beyond Chicago—from beyond New York. I must find him quickly, sir. He is wounded—perhaps dying! Will you help me?"
"Who is yourpadre, señorita?" Dario Gomez asked. "How was he wounded?"
"Mr. Broxton Day is my father. He is chief at the Alderdice Mine, beyond San Cristoval."
"Ah! beyond the town, you say? We have no power there, señorita. Notnow. Old Whiskersrules up there once again—and with a strong arm."
Janice did not know to whom he referred as "Old Whiskers"; possibly to some petty chief like himself. She remembered the name of a rebel leader who had been her father's friend in the past and she urged:
"I am sure my father would not have been attacked at all had Señor Juan Dicampa been still alive. He was my father's friend."
"Ha! the Dicampa? He wasmyfriend, too," returned Gomez. "But he joined forces with the conqueror—and was shot for his treachery."
"Oh!"
"Juan Dicampa ended as so many deliverers end—as an apostle of 'the loaves and fishes.' Ha!" ejaculated Dario Gomez. "I and my followers, we are as yet poor enough to be honest. God keep us so!"
"But my father has surely done nobody harm," cried Janice. "I am sure his name must be known for justice and kindness in the Companos District."
"It is true,mi general," said one of Gomez's men softly. "I am acquaint' weeth the Señor B-Day. He is agran hombre."
Dario Gomez pushed back his sombrero and ran a hand through his thick, graying hair, laughing with twinkling eyes and uplifted mustache into Janice's face.
"Shall we, then, play modern Robin Hoods to this so-beautiful señorita in distress?" he demanded.
"Who ees thees Rob'n 'Ood,mi general?" asked another of his followers. "A bravecompadre?"
"You've said it," ejaculated Gomez, in good American slang. "Very famous."
"What more than we canhedo?" asked the lesser bandit.
"True. Your wisdom is of the ancients, Pietro. What say,hombrecitos? shall we lend assistance to the so-beautiful señorita—the daughter of Señor B-Day?"
There seemed to be a growl of approval. "To San Cristoval,mi general," said one. "There may yet be pickings."
The leader turned immediately and with businesslike directness to Carlitos. "What has happened to the automobile?" he asked.
"Oh, Señor Gomez!" stuttered the driver. "She done bust."
"And you can't make on with her?"
"No, señor."
"She's more than cast a shoe, then?" laughed Dario Gomez. "So we must tackle horses to her, eh? 'Get a horse!' Horse power is surer than gasoline I have always believed."
"By goodness, yes!" groaned Carlitos Ortez.
Janice hastily climbed back beside the astounded Marty. He stared at her.
"Cricky!" he whispered. "Aren't you just the greatest girl that ever was, Janice? Wait till I tell the folks at home about this!"
Carlitos had a rope. He passed it around the entire body of the car, and straps and singletrees appeared for three horses. Evidently some of the bandits' mounts had been seized while at work.
Just as the three excited horses, their riders plying the quirt, sprang forward to drag the stalled car, Carlitos uttered a startling yell.
"There is a third,mi general!" he shouted to Gomez. "The thief and a son-of-a-thief! he haf not paid memi dinero!"
"What's that?" demanded Dario Gomez.
"Anothair passenger—by goodness, yes! He have escaped!" and he pointed to the chaparral.
"What's this?"
"I forget heem till this moment," stammered Carlitos. "He is likewise oflos Americanos; but he is not a friend to these two," and he gestured to Janice and Marty. "He afraid when you appear,mi general. He run."
"Ha!" ejaculated Gomez. "Perhaps he has cause for fear. We will find him."
He gave an order and ten of his men separated from the rest and began to encircle the patch of chaparral. The car was started again and, being but a light load for three horses, they went forward along the road at a gallop.
The bumping and jouncing Janice and Marty endured now was much worse than that which had gone before. The car under its own power was bad enough; but with the half-wild horses dragging it, the occupants of the tonneau thought surely it would be shaken to pieces.
Carlitos clung to the steering wheel, yelling instructions that were not heeded. These recklessvaquerosof thepampas(they were not Chihuahua men; they did not pronounce thes, and were therefore from the south) thought it rather good fun. But the rattle and banging of the automobile, like nothing so much as a tin-shop with a full crew working at high speed, urged the horses on and on.
"Believe me!" Marty managed to shout into his cousin's ear, "if I ever get out of this alive I never want even toseean automobile again. I'm glad you sold yours, Janice."
They struck into a better and smoother road after a while, and the journey was not so difficult. Janice wondered what had become of Tom Hotchkiss, and spoke of him to Marty.
"I hope they catch him and make him work for them. They tell me that these people have slaves down here just as though Abraham Lincoln had never lived," Marty declared. "You heard what Carlitos said about his grandfather.
"As long as we can't turn the fat chump over to the proper police, I hope he just gets his!" added theboy, with venom in his tone of voice. "I hope the money he stole will never do him any good. But, poor dad! he's comin' out of the little end of the horn, I'm afraid."
Janice, too, was troubled about Uncle Jason's affairs. They had seemed on the point of helping him by Hotchkiss' capture—and then had missed it.
However, hope was growing momentarily in the girl's heart that she was going to reach and rescue her own father. She had won over these wild men so easily to help her that it seemed there could really be nothing now to obstruct the way to the Alderdice Mine. They were already in the Companos District, they told her.
Dario Gomez sometimes rode beside the car and shouted bits of information to them. It was apparent that the chief was well versed in English—had probably lived and been educated in the United States. He was, after all, an anomaly in the company he was with. Janice wondered in what spirit he had become chief with such wild companions for his followers.
The haze-capped mountains seemed much nearer now and the road was almost continually on a grade—either ascending or descending. At dusk they came in sight of several groups of houses.
"San Cristoval," announced Dario Gomez. "Until we learn how matters stand, yonder we maynot drag your tin Leezie," and he laughed. "You have had a ride, eh?"
"I never want another like it," growled Marty.
"But if I do not take them into the town, I get no pay," wailed Carlitos, suddenly realizing his situation. "That fathombre—he escape. And these must ride into San Cristoval in thetin Lizzieor I get nodinero. Don Abreguardo say it."
"Ha! Don Abreguardo is a shrewdhombre," said Gomez.
"Don't worry!" Marty exclaimed. "We'll pay you, and we'll walk the rest of the way. Won't we, Janice?"
"Of course," she agreed. "I—I shall be glad to walk—if I can," and she got stiffly out of the car.
"Bueno!Now we depart," said Gomez, laughing. "We go seek mycompadresand the fathombreCarlitos tell me about.Adios!"
He wheeled his horse, waved his hand, and, with his troop clattering at his heels, rode swiftly away.
"Well," Marty observed, just as though he were awakening from a dream—and an unbelievable one at that—"I s'pose we might's well toddle along into town. You're a wonder, Janice. You certainly pulled us out of one big mess—didn't she, Carlitos?"
The Mexican grinned, pocketing the money and the paper they had signed. "The señorita a fine la-dee, eh?" he said. "She make even the Señor Gomez dance when she whistle—by goodness, yes!"
Janice could not call up much of a smile. She was anxious to get into San Cristoval, and she was so wearied by the long ride in the automobile that she could scarcely hobble along, clinging to Marty's arm.
"Where shall we look for lodgings in the town, Carlitos?" she asked. "You must know some hotel."
"The Golden Fan," the man said promptly. "It is as good as any. I leev you here to find horse.Adios, señorita;adios, señor."
The cousins went on wearily together. Even thevolatile Marty seemed lost in thought. Finally he said:
"Well! if they catch him——"
"Who?" Janice demanded.
"Tom Hotchkiss. If the outlaws catch him I hope they'll put him somewhere where he'll get nothing to eat but beans. Cricky, Janice! ain't I hungry forrealgrub!"
"I want to rest—just rest," moaned the girl.
They reached the town after a while. It was then fully dark, but they easily found The Golden Fan. There was a flaring gasoline lamp before the door, over which was painted a huge yellow fan.
A man in sombrero and high boots with spurs lounged in the doorway. He first spoke to them in the vernacular; then:
"Madre di Dios!What do you here?Los Americanos—eh, yes?"
"We're notlostAmericans," replied Marty, misunderstanding. "Just travelers."
"Sí, señor. Come to what you call 'see the sights,' yes?" and the man's grin was like that of a cat. He had yellow eyes, too, and a stiff, sparse mustache like a cat's.
"We want a place to sleep and, first of all, some supper," Marty said. "Do you run this hotel?"
The man turned his head and shouted over his shoulder:
"Maria!"
He added something in Spanish that the Americans did not catch, although they were now learning a bit of the vernacular. Almost immediately a wretched-looking half-breed woman, very dirty and unintelligent of feature, shuffled into view.
"Shethe keeper of this hotel," said the yellow-eyed man, grinning again at Janice and Marty.
The girl held back. These people were not like the Mexicans they had before met. She was intuitively afraid of them.
"You want bed? You want eat?" demanded the woman gruffly.
"Yes," said Marty.
"You got money?"
"Of course," the boy said loftily.
But Janice was tugging at his sleeve, whispering:
"Perhaps we can go somewhere else. Some better place."
The man seemed to have preternaturally sharp ears. "The Golden Fan ver' good hotel, señorita," he said. "Maria, she do for you."
"Ugh! she looks it," muttered Marty. "But I guess we'd better risk it, Janice."
"Be careful," breathed the girl when they were inside. "Don't show much money, dear."
"I'm on!" whispered the boy in reply. He had some silver and produced an American dollar. "You see we have money," he said aloud.
The woman led them into a poorly lighted, almostempty room. There was a table and some chairs but not much other furniture and no ornaments save an old-fashioned wax flower piece under a glass shell on a shelf. Where that, once a cherished parlor ornament of the mid-Victorian era, could have come from down here in Mexico was a mystery.
"Not enough," said the half-breed woman, referring to the dollar, her greedy eyes snapping.
"It's two dollars Mex," announced Marty with decision.
"'Nuff for supper. 'Nother dol' for bed," declared Maria.
Janice touched Marty's hand. "Do not argue," she whispered.
The man had followed them and lolled in the doorway of the room, listening and watching. It was not until then that Janice saw he wore boldly a pistol in a holster dangling from his belt.
"All right," Marty was saying rather ungraciously. "We'll give you two dollars, American, for supper and a night's lodging. Two rooms, mind. If you ask more we'll go out and hunt up some other place to stop."
"There ees no othair hotel but Maria's, young señor," said the man in the doorway, laughing.
"We'll go to see the mayor, then," said Janice hastily. "Don Abreguardo, of La Guarda, is our friend."
"Huh?" grunted the woman, looking at the manquestioningly. He still laughed. "The mayor of La Guarda is not known here, señorita; and San Cristoval have nocacique."
"What's that?" demanded Marty suspiciously.
"He iss shot in the battle—sí, sí! San Cristoval iss of late a battlefield."
"Oh!" Janice murmured and sat down. Not alone was she very weary, but all strength seemed suddenly to leave her limbs.
"Been having hot times here, have you?" asked Marty briskly. "Who's ahead?"
"Oh, Marty!" gasped his cousin.
"Who has won, señor?" said the catlike man.
"Yes."
"Eet ees hard to say. First one then the other army enter San Cristoval. It iss said the Army of Deliverance is being driven back now into the hills. The government troops are between us and the mountains. But eet ees well to cryViva Méjicoto whomever the señor meets."
"Huh!" said Marty. "I've heard that ever since we crossed the Rio Grande."
This was an entirely different hostelry from any they had entered since arriving at the Border. Indeed, Janice was very doubtful of their safety. The woman was greedy and ugly; the man seemed ripe for almost any crime.
The latter's presence in the doorway did not disturb Marty much; but when the woman brought thetortillasandfrijolesand some kind of fish stewed in oil with the hottest of hot peppers, Janice merely played with the food. Because of the baleful glance of the man's yellow eyes her appetite was gone. Maria too watched the guests in a silence that seemed to bode evil.
This town of San Cristoval, although much larger than La Guarda or La Gloria, was very different from either, it seemed. Not a sound came from the street. There was no music or dancing or the chattering of voices outside. It was as though San Cristoval had been smitten with a plague.
"Cricky! I bet these beans have got on your nerves, too, Janice," said Marty, seeing her fork idle.
She giggled faintly at that. "I never heard that beans troubled one's nerves," she said. "It's these people—staring at us so!"
"Yep. Eat-'em-up-Jack there in the doorwaywouldalmost turn your stomach," agreed Marty cheerfully. "And a bath would sure kill Maria."
The boy was good-naturedly oblivious of the sinister manner of the two Mexicans—or appeared to be; but Janice grew more and more troubled as time passed, and started at every movement Maria or the man made.
"Say, you," Marty asked while he was still eating, addressing the man, "is the railroad running to the mines yet?"
"Which mine, señor?" returned the yellow-eyed man.
"A mine called the Alderdice is the one we want to go to."
Maria uttered a shrill exclamation and the man dropped his cigarette and put his foot upon it involuntarily.
"What ees thees about the Alderdice Mine?" he said softly. "Why do you weesh to go there?"
"Just for instance," returned Marty coolly. "You are not answering my question—and I asked first."
"No. The rails are torn up just outside the city," said the man with insistence. "Now answerme, young señor."
"That's what we've come down here into Mexico for," Marty told him calmly. "To visit the Alderdice Mine. Do you know the man who runs it?"
"Señor B-Day!" gasped Maria, who seemed to be much moved. She had come closer to the table and was staring at Janice earnestly. The girl shrank from her, but Marty was still looking at the man lounging in the doorway.
"Yes. Broxton Day. He's the man," the boy said with admirable carelessness of manner. "Is he all right?"
"Whoareyou, señor?" asked the man abruptly.
"I'm a feller that wants to see this Mr. Day," said Marty, grinning.
"And the señorita! the señorita!" shrilled Maria. "I tell you, Juan, thees ees a strange t'ing!" She went on in Spanish speaking eagerly to the man.
"Do you not know Señor B-Day was shot?" demanded the man, Juan, still addressing Marty.
"Yes! Yes!" cried Janice, clasping and unclasping her hands. "Is he seriously hurt? Oh! tell me."
Maria came closer to her. After all the ragged creature had not such a sinister face. It was her Yaqui blood that made her look so forbidding.
"Señorita! señorita!" she murmured, "youlofethat Señor B-Day, do you not?"
"He is my father!" burst out Janice desperately. "Tell me about him. Is he badly hurt? How can we get to him? Oh! I wish we might go to-night!"
"Madre di Dios!" ejaculated the woman, looking at the man again. "I knew eet, Juan."
"Well! tell it tous," growled Marty.
"She say you look like Señor B-Day," said the man, grinning. "We know heem alla right. I work' for him and so did Maria. He good-a man. Onegran hombre—sí, sí!"
"But how badly is he hurt?" cried the girl. "Tell me."
"He been shot in the shoulder and in the right arm," said Juan, pointing. "He alla right—come through safe—sure!"
"But we have not heard a word from him——"
"He no can write. And at first, and alla time now, the bandits keep him shut up there at the mine. It ees so. Now the Señor General De Soto Palo come. He attack the bandits. They soon be driven into the mountains away from the mines and we—we go back to work again for Señor B-Day. Sure."
The relief Janice felt was all but overpowering. She could not speak again for a minute; but Marty demanded:
"Do you mean to say we can go up there to the Alderdice Mine to-morrow morning?"
"If Señor General De Soto Palo permits—sí, sí!" said Juan, grinning again. "But no ride on railroad I tell you, señor."
"Will you go with us?" the boy asked.
"As far as may be," said the man with a shrug of his shoulders.
"For how much?" demanded Marty bluntly.
"For notting," declared Juan. "Your bed notting. Your food notting. Friends of the good Señor B-Day shall be treat' as friends by us—yes, huh?"
Maria was patting Janice's hand softly and she nodded acquiescence. Janice's eyes had overflowed. Marty choked up, and said gruffly:
"Hi tunket! don't that beat all? It pays to make people like you same as Uncle Brocky does. Andyoudo it, too, Janice. Dad says: 'Soft words butter no parsnips'; but I dunno. I have an idea it pays pretty good interest to make friends wherever and whenever you can."
Whatever might have been the natural character of Juan and Maria, their attitude towards the cousins changed magically. The half-breed woman could not do enough for the twain, and Juan of the yellow eyes became suddenly respectful if not subservient.
The fact remained that these Mexicans did not lovelos Americanos, but they distinguished friends.
The tavern was a poor place; but the best in it was at the disposal of Janice and Marty. And the girl, at least, went to bed with confidence in the future.
Her father might be detained—hived up as it were—at the mine; but he was not seriously hurt and she might reach him soon.
Juan was evidently the poorest of peons. All he could obtain in the morning was a burro for the girl to ride. He said Marty must walk the fourteen miles to the mine as he did.
"Don't worry about me. I'm glad to walk after riding two days in that tin Lizzie," declared the boy.
They set forth early. Only a few curious and silent people watched them go. The town seemed more than half deserted.
"Those men who did not join the rebels," explained Juan, "haf run from the troops of the Señor General De Soto Palo. Oh, yes! They will come back—and go to work again later."
They set forth along the branch railroad, on which the ore was brought down from the mines to the stamp mills. In the yards box cars and gondolas were overturned and half burned; rails were torn up; switch shanties demolished.
"We Mexicans," said Juan, grinning, "we do not lofe the railroad, no! Before the railroad come our country was happier.Viva Méjico!"
"Hi tunket!" muttered Marty. "That 'Viva Méjico!' business covers a multitude of sins—like this here charity they tell about. If you sing out that battle cry down here you can do 'most anything you want—and get away with it!"
They went on slowly, for no amount of prodding would make the burro go faster than a funeral march. On all sides they saw marks of the fighting which had followed the occupation of San Cristoval by the government troops.
Juan explained that General Palo had waited for reinforcements at first; but finally a part of the rebel army come over to him and fought against their former friends under the standard of the government; so he was now pushing on steadily, driving the other rebels before him.
"Why did they come over to the government side if they believe inla patria?" asked Marty curiously.
"For twenty centavos a day more, señor," said Juan placidly.
"What's that?" ejaculated the boy. "D'you mean they got their wages raised?"
"Why, señor, a man must leev," declared Juan mildly. "We get from thirty to feefty cents a day working in the mines, on the roads, in the forest—oh, yes! Señor B-Day pay the highest wages of anybody—sure. But to fight—ah! that is different, eh? One general give us seventy-fi' cents a day—good! But another offer us one dollair—'Merican. By goodness, yes! We fight for heem. Any boy that beeg enough to carry gun, he can get twice as much for fighting as he can for othair work.Sí, sí, señor."
"Oh, cricky!'Viva Méjico!" murmured Marty.
It was just then that they turned a curve in the right of way and beheld a train standing on the track. At least, there were a locomotive and two cars.
They had not seen a human being since leaving the outskirts of the town; but here were both men and horses.
The men were armed; some of them were gayly uniformed. A young fellow in tattered khaki spurred his mount immediately toward Janice Day and her companions.
"What want you here,hombres?" he demandedin Spanish, staring at Janice. "This is the headquarters of General De Soto Palo."
Juan was dumb, and before Marty could speak Janice put the question:
"Is it possible for us to get through to the Alderdice Mine, señor?"
"Certainly not!" was the reply in good English. "Our troops have not driven out the dregs of the rebel army as yet."
"May we speak with the general?" the girl pursued faintly.
"Certainly not!" the fellow repeated. "He has no time to spend with vagabondAmericanos."
"She's Señor B-Day's daughter," broke in Marty, thinking the statement might do some good.
"Ha!" ejaculated the young officer much to their surprise. "She we have expected. Consider yourself under ar-r-rest. March on!"
He waved his hand grandly toward the nearest car. Already Janice had seen that it was a much battered Pullman coach. But now the officer's declaration left Janice unable to appreciate much else but the fact that she had been expected and was a prisoner of the government forces!
Juan, immobile of countenance, prodded on the burro. Marty, too, was speechless. They came near to the observation platform of the Pullman coach.
Suddenly the door opened and there stepped intothe sunshine the magnificent figure of a woman in Mexican dress—short skirt, low cut bodice, with a veil over her wonderfully dressed hair. She looked down upon the approaching cavalcade with parted lips.
"Madam!" ejaculated Janice Day, and then could say no more.
Marty Day was quite as amazed as his cousin at this meeting, for he, too, recognized the handsome black-eyed woman on the observation platform of the Pullman coach. He found his tongue first.
"What do you know about that?" he murmured. "Just like a movie, ain't it? She is that woman you were traveling with, Janice—the one I thought tried to swipe your money. And maybe shedidtry to at that!"
"Hush!" begged his cousin.
"Eet ees the Señora General De Soto Palo," hissed Juan. "She a gre't la-dee—huh?"
For a full minute the black-eyed woman stared at Janice and the latter wondered if the Señora General Palo would admit their acquaintanceship. They had been so "goot friends" on the train; would the señora acknowledge it now?
"Ach!" exclaimed the woman, her rather stern countenance blossoming into a smile. "You are a wonderful girl, my dear—soh! You have made your way here—through this so-strange country and with all against you. Have you saved your moneyfrom robbery, too?" and her black eyes began to twinkle.
"Oh, Madam!" murmured Janice.
"Our money's safe all right all right," put in Marty.
Madam ignored him. "Come up here, my dear," she commanded in her full contralto voice, still smiling at the American girl.
Janice tumbled off the burro and hastily mounted the steps to the platform. The young officer who had led them here, and others of his ilk, stared from a distance and twirled theirmustachios. Marty grinned at Juan.
"I guess we got a friend at court, eh, Juan?" he said in a whisper. "It takes our Janice to get us out of scrapes—believe me!"
"Of a verity, yes!" agreed Juan.
The black-eyed woman seized Janice Day in a warm embrace the moment the girl came near.
"Oh, Madam!" cried the latter. "I hope I did not offend you. You left so abruptly back there at Sweetwater——"
"Ach! it ees nothing," said the woman. "I was hurt—for the moment. You did not trust me."
"And you were continually warning me to trust nobody," interposed Janice, flushing.
"It is true!" cried the woman, patting her cheek. "I made you so fear for r-robbers that you fear poorme, eh? But that is past. I was sorry, later,when I learn' just where my hoosban' is that I did not confide more in you and you in me, my dear."
"Oh! And you are really the wife of this general who commands here?" Janice exclaimed. "How wonderful!"
"Yes. General Palo has long been exile from his land. Soh! But now he is in favor with the government at Mexico City," explained Madam. "Yes! it was at his request I cut short my season in New York an' join him. He hope to be made governor of this deestrict when the campaign is over. He hope soon to settle all controversies and whip these rebel dogs back into the hills and keep them there."
"But, Madam, you are not Mexican!" cried Janice.
"Not by birth—no, my dear. Yet I am intensely patriotic for my hoosban's country—Viva Méjico!"
Janice sighed. She, like Marty, began to wonder at the universal cry forla patriafrom those of such conflicting opinions.
"No," said Madam. They were now sitting in a compartment of the Pullman that was evidently Madam's boudoir. "I am of blood Bohemian—with a strain of the greatest nation of all time," and she smiled.
"The Hebrew?"
"But yes. I have lived everywhere—on both continents," with a sweeping gesture. "Under myown name—first made known to the world in Vienna—I sing. I am of the opera."
"Oh, Madam! I guessedthat," Janice declared with clasped hands.
"Yes? Well, it iss soh," said the lady sibilantly. "I hear in New York where I am singing at the Metropolitan that my hoosban' is advance. I pack and start for Mexico immediate. Contr-r-racts are nothing at such time, yes? I hasten across the continent to greet and applaud him. After I join him at San Cristoval I hear of things, and remember things that you say, my dear, that make me to understand you must be bound for this same place, too. It is sad you should not have come wit' me."
"My father!" gasped Janice. "Do you know if he is better?"
"I know that he is as yet holding out against the rebels," Madam said. "He, with a few desperatecompadres, are guarding his mine buildings, yes-s!"
"Then he is not seriously wounded?" cried the girl gladly.
"I believe not. We get some information to and from the mine. Señor General De Soto Palo declare he will shell the rebels into the hills to-day, my dear. You have come in season."
Marty, meanwhile, sat comfortably on the car steps in the shade and said to Juan:
"I guess you can beat it back to town, old man,if you want to. I have a hunch that, in spite of that gun you swing, and your look like a picture of a Spanish pirate I saw once, you ain't no fighting man; are you?"
"As the señor says," admitted Juan with a toothful grin and his yellow eyes squinting, "I am a man of peace—by goodness, yes!"
"All right. Here's a dollar—you're welcome to it. You're the only Mexican I've seen that didn't claim to be a fire-eater," and Marty chuckled. "You see, Janice knows the commander's lady and I fancy it's a cinch for us to reach Uncle Brocky now. Da, da, Juan."
"Adios, señor," responded the man and kicked the burro to start that peacefully grazing animal back along the railroad bed.
Suddenly the distant sound of firing disturbed the placidity of the scene about the "headquarters." The little group of officers began to show excitement.
"Sounds like a lot o' ginger-beer corks popping," thought Marty. "Must be something doing." He immediately grew eager himself.
When a little pudgy man in a red and green uniform, a plume in his hat, and yellow gauntlets, came from the forward car and mounted a horse held for him obsequiously, the boy knew he was viewing General De Soto Palo in all his dignity and glory. Truly itwas themagnificent Madam's fate to beadmired by the "so-leetle" men—her husband not excepted.
"Hi tunket! I'd like to go with 'em," muttered Marty, as the cavalcade of officers rode swiftly away. "But I s'pose I got to stay on the job and guard Janice. Sometimes girls are certainly a nuisance."
There was a jar throughout the short train. The couplings tightened. With a squeal of escaping steam the locomotive forged ahead, dragging the general's headquarters car and Madam's living car with it.
Janice ran to the door. "Oh, Marty!" she cried. "Are you all right?"
"Right as rain," he assured her.
"We are going up nearer the battle-line. Oh, Marty! think of it! I may see daddy to-day!"
"Great!" he responded. "I hope the fight ain't all over when we get there."
They were yet ten miles from the Alderdice Mine and the train was more than an hour pulling that distance. They stopped often; and when the train did move it was at a snail's pace.
All the time the machine guns rattled like shaking pebbles in a cannister, the rifles popped and the shells exploded resonantly. Now and then they descried smoke above the tree tops. Occasionally they passed burning buildings.
And then appeared—more hateful sight than allelse—the dead body of a man lying beside the railroad track, face down, the back of his head all gory.
He was a little man. His hand still grasped a brown rifle almost as tall as himself.
The laboring train halted directly beside the dead man. Marty dropped down from the rear step and went to the corpse. He turned it over with curiosity.
And then suddenly there shot through the boy from the North a feeling of such nausea and horror that he was destined ever to remember it.
This was not a man that lay here. It was a boy—a little, yellow-faced, barefooted fellow not as old as Marty himself, with staring eyes which already the ants had found—and a queer, twisted little smile upon the lips behind which the white teeth gleamed.
Marty stumbled blindly back to the car, sobbing. "He's—he's laughing," he stammered to Janice. "I—I wonder if that's 'cause he's found out now how foolish it all is?"
They saw the end of the battle; by then it was mid-afternoon. A stream of wounded had been carried past the train on stretchers—back to a little temporary hospital somewhere in the woods out of sight of the belligerents. For the half-wild Indians from the hills respect no Red Cross.
They saw the last scattering, ragged horde limp away from the mesa on which were the buildings ofthe Alderdice Mining Company, driven to cover by the cheering troops of Señor General De Soto Palo.
Here for some time the rebels had besieged the corrugated iron huts of the mining company, in which a handful of men held out tenaciously.
The lack of machine guns on the part of the Mexican rebels had made this defense of the mining property possible. The bursting shells from the heavier guns of the government forces had quite thrown them into panic.
The men guarding the mining property had finally retreated into a cellar under one of the store-sheds. The ore-raising machinery had been dismantled and hidden in the mine, and little of real value belonging to the mining company had been destroyed.
Now these guards appeared—not more than two dozen of them; powder-stained and unwashed, but a grim group prepared to keep up the fight if necessary.
The same young aide-de-camp who had "captured" Janice and Marty when they approached the headquarters of the general in command, now came to the Madam and her guests.
"If the señor and señorita wish to go forward, all is now quiet," he announced, bowing low before Janice and the Madam. "I will do myself the honor to conduct them to Señor B-Day. He is in the cellar."
"The cellar!" gasped the girl.
"With other wounded. Quite safe, I assure the señorita," added the aide-de-camp hastily.
"Oh! let us hurry!" cried the eager girl.
Her hasty feet took her in advance of the others. She reached the group of shacks where the window-lights were blown out and much wreckage strewed the ground. Before an open cellarway stood a ragged and barefooted soldier. He presented arms most grotesquely as the party came near.
"My father—Señor B-Day?" Janice asked.
At the sound of her voice a cry answered from within and a gaunt figure staggered up the stone steps into the sunlight.
"Janice! My Janice! Can it be possible?" cried the man, gazing in wonder at the girl. "Janice!"
"Daddy! Oh, Daddy!" she screamed, and ran toward him, her arms outstretched, her face all aglow.
"Hey, Janice!" called Marty right behind her. "Don't forget his arm's in a sling."