XIII
CHIQUITA
The next day Kirk borrowed a shot-gun and went hunting. The events ofthe night before seemed like a dream. Could it be that he had reallyblundered irretrievably? Was it possible that he had offended his bestfriend past forgiveness? He wanted to get away somewhere and collecthis thoughts. For the present, at least, he wished to avoid aninterview with Mrs. Cortlandt.
A mile or two beyond the railroad track, to the north and east, beganwhat appeared to be an unbroken wilderness, and thither he turned hissteps. Low, rolling hills lay before him, densely over-grown andleading upward to a mountain range which paralleled the coast until thedistant haze swallowed it up. These mountains, he reflected with athrill of interest, led on to South America, the land of the Incas,hidden in mystery as the forests close at hand were veiled in faintpurple. The very thought was romantic. Balboa had strained his eyesalong these self-same placid shores; Pizarro, the swineherd, hadfollowed them in search of Dabaiba, that fabled temple of gold, leavingbehind him a trail of blood. It was only yonder, five miles away, thatPedrarias, with the murder of a million victims on his soul, hadfounded the ancient city which later fell to Morgan's buccaneers. Evennow, a league back from the ocean, the land seemed as wild as then.Anthony suspected that there were houses--perhaps villages--hidden fromhis view; but vast stretches of enchanted jungle intervened, which hedetermined to explore, letting his feet stray whither they would. Ifgame, of which he had heard great stories, fell to his hand, so muchthe better.
Heeding a warning not to bear arms through the streets of Panamawithout a permit from the alcalde, he struck off across the fields in abee-line for the woods. It was a vast relief to be out in the open airwith a gun upon his arm once more, and he felt his blood coursingvigorously. The burden upon his spirits insensibly began to lighten.After all, he had done nothing for which he needed to be ashamed therest of his life. Edith, of course, was right in being deeply offended.That was to be expected. Yet his conduct, regrettable as it was, hadbeen only natural under the circumstances. Now that the first tumult offeeling had subsided, he found that his conscience did not accuse himvery severely.
And, somehow, he was unable to believe that the breach with Edith wouldprove irreparable. She was a sensible woman of the world--not a mereschool-girl. Perhaps when the immediate shock of the occurrence hadpassed she would consent to take a different view of it, and they mightreturn to their old friendly footing. If not--well, he would be his ownman soon, anyhow. Their lives would part, and the incident would beforgotten. He was sorry that in his momentary madness he had behavedimproperly toward a woman to whom he owed so much, yet it was not as ifhe had shown meanness or ingratitude.
Across the meadows deep in grass he went, skirting little ponds andmarshy spots, growing more cheerful with every step. In one place hehad the good-luck to raise a flock of water birds, which he took forpurple gallinule and spur-wing plover, although they were unlike any hehad ever seen. In some scattered groves beyond he bagged a pigeon andmissed a quail which unexpectedly whirred out of a thicket. Then hecontinued past herds of grazing cattle to another patch of woodland,where he came upon something that looked like a path. Through ranklygrowing banana-patches, yam-fields, and groves of mango-trees, hefollowed it, penetrating ever deeper into the rolling country, until atlast he reached the real forest. He had come several miles, andrealized that he could not retrace his steps, for the trail hadbranched many times; he had crossed other pathways and made manydevours. He rejoiced in the thought that he had successfully losthimself.
At midday he paused in an open glade against a hillside to eat hislunch. Back of him the rising ground was heavily timbered; beneath hima confusion of thickets and groves and cleared fields led out to agreen plain as clean as any golf links, upon which were scattereddwellings.
Evidently this was the Savannas of which he had heard so much, andthese foreign-looking bungalows were the country homes of the richPanamanians. Beyond, the bay stretched, in unruffled calm, like a sheetof quicksilver, its bosom dotted with rocky islets, while hidden in thehaze to the southward, as he knew, were the historic Pearl Islands,where the early Spaniards had enriched themselves.
Gazing at this view in lazy enjoyment, Kirk found himself thinking howgood it was to be young and free, and to be set down in such asplendidly romantic country. Above all, it was good to be heart-wholeand unfettered by any woman's spell--men in love were unhappy persons,harassed by a thousand worries and indecisions, utterly lacking inpoise. It was a lamentable condition of hysteria with which he decidedto have nothing to do. He did not care for women, anyhow. One couldscarcely have any dealings with them without becoming involved in someaffair that unduly harrowed one's feelings. How much better it was toknow the clean spirit of adventure and the joy of living, undisturbedby feverish emotions!
As he reclined there, busied with these thoughts, two vivid littleparoquets alighted near him, to quarrel noisily, then make up and kisseach other like any pair of lovers. It was disgusting. A toucan peeredat him with an appearance of exaggerated curiosity, due to its huge,grotesquely proportioned beak. Now and then came the harsh notes ofparrots as they fluttered high above the tree-tops. Meanwhile the youngman's ears became attuned to the jungle noises, his eyes observant ofthe many kinds of life about him.
The wood was crowded with plant-life utterly strange to him. On thehill above towered a giant ceiba-tree, its trunk as smooth as ifpolished by hand and bare of branches except at the very top, where,instead of tapering, it ended abruptly in a tuft of foliage. Here andthere stood tremendous cotton-trees, their limbs so burdened withair-plants as to form a series of aerial gardens, their twigs bearingpods filled with down. Beside them palm-trees raised their heads, heavywith clusters of nuts resembling dates in size and form, but fit onlyfor wild pigs. Clumps of bamboo were scattered about, their shootsspringing from a common centre like the streams from a fountain, andsweeping through graceful curves to a spray of shimmering green. He hadnever seen such varieties of growth. There were thick trees withbulbous swellings; tall trees with buttressed roots that ran high upthe trunks; slender trees propped up head-high above the earth ontripod-like roots or clusters of legs; trees with bark that shone likea mirror; trees guarded with an impregnable armor of six-inch bonyspikes--Kirk did not know the names of half of them, nor did he care tolearn.
Vines and creepers abounded, from the tiny honeysuckle that reareditself with feeble filaments, to the giant liana creeping through theforest like a python, throttling full-grown trees in its embrace. Onevery side was the never-ceasing battle for light and the struggle ofthe weak against the strong. The air was heavy with the breath oftriumphant blooms and the odor of defeated, decaying life. A thousandvoiceless tragedies were being enacted; the wood was peopled bydistorted shapes that spoke of forgotten encounters; rich, riotous,parasitic growths flourished upon starved limbs or rotting trunks. Itwas weird and beautiful and pitiless. Unlike the peaceful order of ourNorthern forests, here was a savage riot, an unending treacherouswarfare without light or room or mercy. There was something terrible init all.
Tiring of the scene at last, Kirk continued his wanderings, bearinggradually toward the right, that he might eventually emerge upon theSavannas below, where he knew there was a good paved road leading tothe city. But the trails were devious and seemed to lead nowhere, so atlast he struck out through the jungle itself. Having no machete withwhich to clear a way, his progress was slow, but he took his time,keeping a wary outlook for game, twisting back and forth to avoid thedensest thickets, until he finally came out upon the margin of astream. Through the verdure beyond it he saw the open, sunlit meadows,and he followed the bank in the hope of finding a foot-log or a bridgeupon which to cross. He had gone, perhaps, a hundred yards when hestumbled out into a cleared space, where he paused with an exclamationof surprise.
The brook had been dammed and widened into a deep, limpid pool to whichthe clean, white sand of its bottom lent a golden hue. At the lower endit overflowed in a wat
erfall, the purling music of which filled theglade. Overhead the great trees were arched together and interlaced,their lower branches set with flowering orchids like hothouse plantsupon a window-ledge. The dense foliage allowed only a random beam ofsunlight to pass through and pierce the pool, like a brilliant,quivering javelin. Long vines depended from the limbs above, fallingsheer and straight as plumb-lines; a giant liana the size of a man'sbody twined up and up until lost in the tangle overhead.
Although set just within the border of the untouched forest, it wasevident that this spot had been carefully cut away and artfullycultivated. But, if man's hand had aided nature by a few deft toucheshere and there and a careful pruning of her lavish riches, it could beseen that no human artist had designed the wondrous stage effect. Tostep suddenly out of an uncut wilderness into such a scene as this wasbewildering, and made the American gasp with delight. The place had anair of strictest privacy. A spring-board mirrored in the depths belowinvited one to plunge, a pair of iron gymnasium rings were swung bychains to a massive limb, a flight of stone steps led up the bank andinto a hut artistically thatched and walled with palm-leaves toharmonize with its setting. Kirk thanked his fortune that he had notblundered in while the place was in use, for it had almost the sacredair of a lady's boudoir.
Instead of promptly withdrawing, he allowed his admiration full play,and stood staring for a long time. What a delightful nook in which todream away the days! It was dim and cool and still, although outsideits walls of green the afternoon sun was beating down fiercely. Astranger might pass and never guess its presence. It had been cunninglyshaped by fairies, that was evident. Doubtless it was peopled by themalso, and his mistake had been in coming upon it so suddenly. If he hadapproached with caution he would surely have surprised them at theirplay, for yonder was the music of their dances--that chuckling, singingwaterfall could serve no other purpose. Perhaps one was hidden under itat present. Kirk was half tempted to conceal himself and wait for themto reappear, though he knew that it requires extraordinary cunning todeceive wood-sprites once they have been alarmed. But, undoubtedly,they were somewhere close by, probably watching him from behind theleaves, and if they were not such timid bodies he might try to searchthem out.
As it was, he took a lingering, farewell look and turned to retrace hissteps, whereupon the queen fairy laughed at him softly. He pausedabruptly, then turned around, with care, so as not to frighten her. Butof course she was invisible. Then she spoke again with the sweetestforeign accent imaginable.
"You had better cross upon the waterfall, sir. There is no bridgeabove." After an instant, during which he strained his eyes to findher, she laughed again.
"Here I am, in the tree, across the pond."
"Oh!" Looking over the fork of a tree-trunk, perhaps twice the heightof his head above the ground, Anthony beheld a ravishing face and twovery bright eyes. Without removing his gaze, he leaned his guncarefully against a bush--firearms have an abominable effect uponhamadryads--and said:
"I knew you were here all the time."
"Indeed!" The eyes opened in astonishment. "You did not see me at all."
"Of course, but I knew you were somewhere close by, just the same. Howdid you get up there?"
"I climbed up."
"Why didn't you hide under the waterfall?"
"I did not hide, senor. I am trying to reach my orchid."
A little hand appeared beside the face, and a finger pointed to one ofthe big air plants above her. Kirk beheld a marvellous white,dove-shaped flower, nodding upon a slender stalk.
"I climbed up on the big vine; it is just like a ladder."
"Then you can't be the queen!"
Two very large, very dark eyes looked at him questioningly.
"Queens don't pick flowers," he explained. "They hide in 'em."
"The queen?"
"Some of them live in trees, and some preside over lakes and fountains.Which kind are you?"
"Oh! I am neither, I live in my father's house." She tossed her head inthe direction of the Savannas behind her. "Do you wish to cross thestream?"
"If you please."
"Wait." The face disappeared. There was a sound from behind the twistedtree-trunk, a twig fell, then a piece of bark, and the next instant thegirl herself stepped into view.
"I was afraid you'd gone for good," acknowledged the young man,gravely. He took up his gun and stepped out upon the crest of the dam.
"You must look where you go," she admonished, "or you willfall--splash!" She laughed delightedly at the thought, and he saw thather eyes had a way of wrinkling almost shut in the merriest fashion. Hebalanced upon the slippery surface of the waterway with the stream upto his ankles.
"Will you promise not to whisk yourself away if I look down?" he asked.
"Yes."
But even with this assurance he found it difficult to remove his eyesfrom her even for the brief instant necessary for a safe passage; andwhen at last he stood beside her he felt an irresistible desire toseize her gently so that she could not escape.
"Well?" she said at length, and he found he had been standingstock-still staring at her for several seconds.
"Excuse me! I really took you for a wood-nymph. I'm not sure yet--yousee the place is so well suited. It--it was a natural mistake."
She dropped her eyes shyly and turned away at his look.
"It is only our swimming-pool. There have been no fairies here since Iwas a very little girl. But once upon a time there were many--oh, agreat many." It was impossible to describe the odd, sweet sound hertongue gave to the English words. It was not a dialect, hardly anaccent, just a delicious, hesitating mannerism born of unfamiliarity.
"Did you ever see them?"
"N-no! I arrived always a little too late. But there are such things."
He nodded. "Everybody knows that since 'Peter Pan.'"
Another shy glance told her that he was still regarding her with hislook of wondering admiration. She pointed to a path, saying:
"This way will bring you to the road, sir, if you wish."
"But--I don't wish--not yet." He sought wildly for an excuse to stay,and exclaimed: "Oh, the orchid. I must get it for you."
"That will be very nice of you, sir. For two years I have awaited itsblooming. If you had not arrived I would have got it, anyhow."
"Girls shouldn't climb trees," he said, severely. "It tears theirdresses."
"Oh, one cannot tear a dress like this." She glanced down at her skirt.Allowing his eyes to leave her face for a moment, Kirk saw that she wasclad, oddly enough, in a suit of denim, which was buttoned snugly clearto her neck. It struck him as most inappropriate, yet it was extremelywell made, and he could not complain of the effect.
He broke his gun and removed the shells; then, leaving it beside thebath-house, went to the tree where he had first seen her. With one handresting upon the trunk, he turned to say:
"Promise you won't disappear while I'm up there, or change into asquirrel, or a bird, or anything like that."
"What a funny man you are!"
"Do you promise?"
"Yes, yes."
"Do you live around here?"
"Of course."
"Why do you want this orchid?"
"To put it in the house."
Instead of beginning his climb, the young man lounged idly against thetree.
"Funny how I found you, wasn't it?" he remarked. "I mean it's funny Ishould have stumbled right on you this way--there's only one of you andone of me, and--er--this country is so big! I might have gone someother way and then perhaps we'd never have met." He contemplated thiscontingency for an instant. "And if you hadn't spoken I'd never haveseen you, either."
"But I had to speak. You could not cross above."
"Awfully nice of you. Some people would have let me go away."
"But the orchid, senor. Do you fear to climb so high?" she inquired,with the faintest gleam of amusement at his obvious effort to prolongthe conversation.
"Oh no!"
&
nbsp; He cast about for something further to talk about, but, failing to findit, began slowly to clamber upward, supporting himself upon the naturalsteps afforded by the twining vine and the protuberances of the trunkitself.
When he had reached the first fork, he turned and seated himselfcomfortably, peering downward through the leaves for a sight of her.
"Not gone yet!" he exclaimed. "That's good."
"Are you out of breath that you stop so soon?"
He nodded. "I need to rest a minute. Say, my name is Anthony--KirkAnthony." Then, after a pause, "I'm an American."
"So am I, at least I am almost. My mother was an American."
"You don't say!" The young man's face lighted up with interest, and hestarted eagerly down the tree-trunk, but she checked him promptly.
"The orchid!"
"Oh yes!" He reseated himself. "Well, well, I suppose your mothertaught you to speak English?"
"I also attended school in Baltimore."
Anthony dangled his legs from his perch and brushed aside a troublesomeprickly pod that depended in such a position as to tickle his neck."I'm from Yale. Ever been to New Haven? What are you laughing at?"
"At you. Do you know what it is which you are fighting from your neck?"
"This?" Kirk succeeded in locating the nettle that had annoyed him.
"Yes. It is cow-eetch. Wait! By-and-by you will scratch likeeverything." The young lady laughed with the most mischievous, elf-likeenjoyment of this prospect.
"All right. Just for that, I will wait."
Now that the first surprise of meeting was over, Kirk began a reallyattentive scrutiny of this delightful young person. So far he had beenconscious of little except her eyes, which had exercised a mostremarkable effect upon him from the first. He had never cared for blackeyes--they were too hard and sparkling, as a rule--but these--well, hehad never seen anything quite like them. They were large and soft andvelvety, like--like black pansies! That was precisely what they were,saucy, wide-awake black pansies, the most beautiful flower in allcreation; and, while they were shadowed by the intangible melancholy ofthe tropics, they were also capable of twinkling in the most roguishmanner imaginable, as at the present moment. Her hair was soft andfine, entirely free from the harsh lustre so common to that shade, andit grew down upon her temples in a way that completed the perfect ovalof her face. His first glimpse had told him she was ravishingly pretty,but it had failed to show how dainty and small she was. He saw now thatshe was considerably below the usual height, but so perfectlyproportioned that one utterly lost perspective. Even her thick, coarsedress could not conceal the exquisite mould in which she was cast. Buther chief charm lay in a certain winsome vivacity, a willfulwaywardness, an ever-changing expression which showed her keenly aliveand appreciative. Even now pure mischief looked out of her eyes as sheasked:
"Have you rested enough to attack the orchid?"
"Yes." He roused himself from his trance, and with a strangely leapingheart proceeded carefully to detach the big air plant from itsresting-place. The wonderful flower, nodding to his touch, was no moreperfect than this dryad whom he had surprised.
"Don't break it," she cautioned as he came gingerly down the tree. "Itis what we call 'Espiritu Santa,' the 'Holy Spirit' flower. See, it islike a white bird."
"First one I've seen," he said, noting how the purity of the bloomenhanced the olive of her cheek. Then he began another fruitless searchfor a topic of conversation, fearing that if he allowed the slightestpause she would send him away. But all his thoughts were of her, itseemed. His tongue would frame nothing but eager questions--all aboutherself. At last in desperation he volunteered to get another orchid;but the suggestion met with no approval. There were no more, she toldhim, of that kind.
"Maybe we can find one," he said, hopefully.
"Thank you. I know them all." She was looking at him now as ifwondering why he did not make a start, but wild horses could not havedragged him away. Instead of picking up his gun, he inquired:
"May I rest a moment? I'm awfully tired."
"Certainly. You may stay as long as you wish. When you are rested thelittle path will bring you out."
"But you mustn't go!" he exclaimed, in a panic, as she turned away."Oh, I say, please! You wouldn't do a thing like that?"
"I cannot speak to you this way, sir." The young lady blushed prettily.
"Why not, I'd like to know?"
"Oh!" She raised her hand and shook her head to express the absoluteimpossibility of such a thing. "Already I have been terrible. What willStephanie say?"
"You've been nothing of the sort, and who is Stephanie?"
"She is a big black woman--very fierce. It is because of Stephanie thatthe fairies have gone away from here."
"If we wait a minute, maybe they'll come out."
"No. I have waited many times and I never saw them."
"Somehow I feel sure we'll see 'em this time," he urged. Then, as sheshook her head doubtfully: "Good heavens! Don't you want to see 'em?I'm so tired that I must sit down."
The corners of her eyes wrinkled as she said, "You are not very strong,senor. Have you been ill?"
"Yes--no. Not exactly." He led her to a bamboo bench beside the palmhut. "I've been hunting. Now won't you please tell me how you chancedto be here? I thought these country places were unoccupied at thisseason."
"So they are. But, you see, I am doing a penance."
"Penance! You?"
"Oh yes. And it is nothing to laugh about, either," she chided, as hesmiled incredulously, "I am a bad girl; I am disobedient. Otherwise Iwould not allow you to speak to me alone like this. You are the firstgentleman I have ever been so long in the company with, Senor Antonio."
"Really?"
"Now I will have to do more penance." She sighed sadly, but her eyeswere dancing.
"I don't understand this penance affair. What do you do?"
She lifted a fold of her coarse denim dress. "For six months I mustwear these garments--no pretty ones. I must not go out in public also,and I have been sent here away from the city for a time to cure myrebellious spirit."
"Those dresses must be hot."
"Oh, very uncomfortable! But, you see, I was bad."
"Not very bad?"
"Indeed. I disobeyed my father, my uncle, everybody." For the firsttime her eyes grew bright with anger. "But I did not wish to bemarried."
"Now, I see. They wanted you to marry some fellow you don't like?"
"I do like him--"
"You did exactly right to refuse. By all means stand pat, and don't--"
"'Stand pat.' I have not heard that word since I was in Baltimore."
"It's awful to marry somebody you don't like," he declared, with suchearnest conviction that she inquired, quickly:
"Ah, then are you married?"
"No! But everybody says it's positively criminal to marry without love."
"The gentleman is very handsome."
He shuddered, "Beware of handsome men. If you have any idea ofmarriage, select a large, plain man with blue eyes and light hair."
"I do not know such a person."
"Not yet, of course; that is, not well enough to marry him."
"It is not nice to speak of such things," said the young lady, primly."And it is not nice also to speak with strange gentlemen who come outof the forest when one is doing penance. But I am a half American, youknow. Perhaps that is what makes me so bad."
"Will you catch it for talking to me?"
"Oh yes. It is not allowed. It is most improper."
"Then I suppose I'd better leave." Anthony settled himself morecomfortably upon the bench. "And yet there is nothing really wrongabout it, is there? Why, it's done every day in my country. Besides,who's going to know?"
"The padre. I tell him everything."
"You girls down here have a pretty tough time of it; you are guardedpretty closely, aren't you?"
She gave him a puzzled look.
"I mean, you don't have any liberty. You don't
go out alone, or letfellows take you to lunch, or to the matinee, or anything like that?"
Evidently the mere mention of such things was shocking. "Oh, senor,"she cried, incredulously, "such terrible actions cannot be permittedeven in your country. It is awful to think of!"
"Nonsense! It's done every day."
"Here it would not do at all. One's people know best about such things.One must be careful at all times. But you Americans are so wicked!"
"How does a fellow ever get acquainted with a girl down here? How doeshe get a chance to propose?"
But this frank questioning on so sacred a topic was a little more thanthe young lady was prepared to meet, and for the moment confusion heldher tongue-tied.
"One's people attend to that, of course," she managed to say, atlength, then changed the subject quickly.
"Do you live in Panama?" she asked.
"Yes. I work on the railroad, or will, in a few days."
"You are so young for such authority. It must be very difficult tomanage railroads."
"Well--I won't have to run the whole works--at first. I'm beginninggradually, you know--one train at a time."
"That will be easier, of course. What did you say is your whole name?"
"Kirk Anthony."
"Keerk! It has a fonny sound, has it not?"
"I never noticed it. And yours?"
"Do you speak Spanish?" She regarded him curiously.
"Not a word."
"My name is Chiquita."
He repeated it after her. "It's pretty. What is your last name?"
"That is it. If I told you my first name, you could not use it; itwould not be proper."
"It ought to be something like Ariel. That means 'spirit of the air andwater,' I believe. Ariel Chiquita. No, they don't go together. What areyou laughing at?"
"To see you scratch your neck."
Anthony became conscious of a growing sensation where the strange podhad dangled against his skin, and realized that he had been rubbing thespot for some time.
"You did not know it was the cow-nettle, eh?"
"You enjoy seeing me suffer," he said, patiently.
"You do not soffer," she retorted, mimicking his tone. "You only eetch!You wish me to sympathize."
"See here, Miss Chiquita, may I call on you?"
"Oh!" She lifted her brows in amazement. "Such ideas! Of a certainlynot."
"Why?"
"You do not onderstand. Our young men do not do those things."
"Then I'll do whatever is customary--really I will, but--I'm awfullyanxious to see you again--and--'
"I do not know you--My father--"
"I'll look up Mr. Chiquita and be introduced."
At this the young lady began to rock back and forth in an abandon ofmerriment. The idea, it seemed, was too utterly ridiculous for words.Her silvery laughter filled the glade and caused the jealous waterfallto cease its music.
"No, no," she said, finally. "It is impossible. Besides, I am doingpenance. I can see no one. In the city I cannot even sit upon thebalcony." She fetched a palpably counterfeit sigh, which ended in atitter.
Never had Kirk beheld such a quaintly mischievous, such a madlytantalizing creature.
"Say! You're not really going to marry that fellow!" he exclaimed, withconsiderable fervor.
She shrugged her shoulders wearily. "I suppose so. One cannot foreversay no, and there are many reasons--"
"Oh, that's the limit. You'll go nutty, married to a chap you don'tcare for."
"But I am naughty, now."
"Not 'naughty'--nutty. You'll be perfectly miserable. There ought to bea law against it. Let me call and talk it over, at least. I know allabout marriage--I've been around so many married people. Promise?"
"I cannot let you 'call,' as you say. Besides, for two weeks yet I mustremain here alone with Stephanie." She regarded him mournfully. "Everyday I must do my penance, and think of my sins, and--perhaps look fororchids."
He saw the light that flickered in the depths of her velvet eyes, andhis heart pounded violently at the unspoken invitation.
"To-morrow?" he inquired, breathlessly. "Do you intend to hunt orchidsto-morrow?"
Instead of answering she started to her feet with a little cry, and hedid likewise. Back of them had sounded an exclamation--it was more likethe snort of a wild animal than a spoken word--and there, ten feetaway, stood a tall, copper-colored negress, her eyes blazing, hernostrils dilated, a look of utmost fury upon her face. She was fully astall as Kirk, gaunt, hook-nosed, and ferocious. About her head wasbound a gaudy Barbadian head-dress, its tips erect like startled ears,increasing the wildness of her appearance.
"Stephanie!" exclaimed the girl. "You frightened me."
The negress strode to her, speaking rapidly in Spanish, then turnedupon Kirk.
"What do you want here?" she cried, menacingly. She had thrust hercharge behind her and now pierced him with her eyes.
"Miss Chiquita--" he began, at which that young lady broke into anotherpeal of silvery laughter and chattered to her servant. But her words,instead of placating the black woman, only added to her fury. Shepointed with quivering hand to the path along the creek-bank and cried:
"Go! Go quick, you man!" Then to her charge: "You bad, BAD! Go to thehouse."
"Miss Chiquita hasn't done anything to make you huffy. I came out ofthe woods yonder and she was good enough to direct me to the road."
But Stephanie was not to be appeased. She stamped her flat foot andrepeated her command in so savage a tone that Kirk perceived theuselessness of trying to explain. He looked appealingly at the girl,but she merely nodded her head and motioned him to be gone.
"Very well," he said, regretfully. "Thank you for your assistance,miss." He bowed to the little figure in blue with his best manner andtook up his gun. "This way out! No crowding, please."
"Adios, Senor Antonio," came the girl's mischievous voice, and as hestrode down the path he carried with him the memory of a perfect ovalface smiling at him past the tragic figure of the Bajan woman. He wentblindly, scarcely aware of the sun-mottled trail his feet werefollowing, for his wits were a-flutter and his heart was leaping tosome strange intoxication that grew with every instant.
It threatened to suffuse him, choke him, rob him of his senses; hewanted to cry out. Her name was Chiquita. He repeated it over and overin time to his steps. Was there ever such a beautiful name? Was thereever such a ravishing little wood-sprite? And her sweet, hesitatingaccent that rang in his ears! How could human tongue make suchcaressing music of the harshest language on the globe? She had calledhim "Senor Antonio," and invited him to come again to-morrow. Would hecome? He doubted his ability to wait so long. Knowing that she agreedto the tryst, no power on earth could deter him.
What a day it had been! He had started out in the morning, vaguelyhoping to divert his mind with some of those trite little happeningsthat for lack of a better term we call adventures in this humdrumworld. And then, with the miraculous, unbelievable luck of youth, hehad stumbled plump into the middle of the most wondrous adventure itwas possible to conceive. And yet this wasn't adventure, after all--itwas something bigger, finer, more precious. With a suddenness that wasblinding he realized that he was in love! Yes, that was it, beyond theshadow of a doubt. This mischief-ridden, foreign-born little creaturewas the one and only woman in the world for whom the fates had made himand brought him across two oceans.
That evening he sat for a long time alone on the gallery of his hotel,his spirit uplifted with the joy of it, a thousand whispering voices inhis ears. And when at last he fell asleep it was to dream of an olive,oval face with eyes like black pansies.