CHAPTER XIII.
THE CAPTAIN’S STORY.
“I soon found that I had entered on a chase that was to prove more thanI had bargained for. Not that I had any difficulty in picking up thetrail of the stolen cattle—that part was easy enough. I followed itall day, and at night found myself not far from the river, in a countrycreased and criss–crossed by dry gulches and arroyos. It was a gloomy,desolate–looking place enough, but, as it was growing dark, I had nochoice but to camp there.
“At the bottom of one of the arroyos I found a muddy, ill–smelling poolof seepage water. It did not taste good, so I fell back on what I hadin my canteen and let the pinto drink it. The sun sank in a red ball offire and there was a peculiar sulphury sort of smell in the air. But Iwas thinking of other things than the weather and sat up late under thestars figuring out the situation.
“The result of my mental activities was that I decided to rest tillmidnight, when the moon was high, and then plug on again. I knew themoon would be full, and figured that I could follow the trail all rightby its light. I’ve always been pretty well broken in to the habit ofwaking up at the time I want to, and so it was within a few minutes oftwelve o’clock when I was ready to start off once more.
“With my pony saddled, I mounted and was off on the path of adventureagain. All that night I followed the trail, and by morning found myselfover the Border and in Mexico. It was here that I decided to executea bit of strategy. In my kit I had, in accordance with a half–formedscheme which had come into my mind before I set out, placed someMexican–looking garments. As I spoke the language well and was darkenough to be taken for a Mexican anyhow, I didn’t think I’d have muchdifficulty in making myself out a native of the country in which I thenwas.
“You can readily see why I adopted this precaution. Mexicans alwayshave, and always will, hate the Gringoes. They can’t help it anymore than they can help their skins being dark. It’s bred in them, Isuppose. So ‘into the enemy’s country’ as it were, I proceeded, feelingmuch more secure in my disguise.
“I soon had a chance to learn how nearly I approached to the characterI had assumed. About noon that same day, after crossing a rather barrenstretch of country covered with giant yuccas and stunted trees, I camein sight of a clump of willows, amidst which smoke was rising. At firstmy heart gave a bound. I knew I was still on Alvarez’s trail and for aninstant I thought that he and his band were right ahead of me.
“But I was speedily undeceived. As I drew closer I saw that therewas an adobe hut amidst the willows, and leaning on a gate in atumble–down barb wire fence was a wild, unkempt figure, evidently thatof the proprietor of the small, lonely ranch. Beards are rare amongMexicans, therefore I was somewhat surprised to see that the man I wasapproaching had one that almost reached his waist.
“On his face it reached his eyes, forming a little mask of hair, fromamid which a pair of cunning, deep–set eyes scrutinized me closely. Ibid the fellow good–day in Mexican and asked if I could rest and eatthere, as well as obtain hay and water for my pony. He appeared tohesitate an instant, but then came to a sudden resolution. He swung thegate open with surly hospitality, and with a wave of his hand invitedme to come in.
“I was not slow to accept the invitation. While he led the pony toan adobe barn in the rear of the place I entered the house. It wasjust like any other Mexican residence. Dark, cool and bare, except forchairs and a rough table. On the porch, roofed with willow boughs, wasthe inevitable water–cooler, or ‘olla,’ of porous earthenware. My hostsoon returned from his task of stabling the horse and informed me thathe was keeping bachelor’s hall. His wife, he said, was away visitingfriends in another part of the province.
“It was on the tip of my tongue to ask him if he had seen anything ofAlvarez, but I refrained, urged to that decision by some mysteriousinstinct. While the man prepared a meal of corn paste, dried beef andfrijoles, I caught him eying me curiously once or twice. I had told himI was a native of another province, on my way to Santa Rosalia, a townabout twenty miles distant. I flattered myself that my disguise was sogood that the fellow had not penetrated it. But in this, as you willhear, I was grievously wrong.
“The rough meal being cooked, we sat down and ate together. The manseemed a taciturn, ugly sort of chap, and replied to my questions in asullen manner. Moreover, I didn’t half like the way he kept sizing meup, as it were. But I determined not to meet trouble half way, and madea good meal with as stout a heart as I could.
“The food despatched, I decided to push on, and informed the man of myintention. He said he would get my pony for me and left the place. Iwas helping myself to a drink from the olla in a gourd cup when my hostreappeared. He looked much distressed, and, on my inquiring what wasthe matter, he informed me that my pony was ‘mucho malo’ meaning thatthe animal was sick.
“I wasted no words, but hastened to the stable. There, sure enough, wasmy poor pinto in a sad state of distress. His eyes were glassy, hiscoat wet with sweat, and he was shaking in every limb. One look at theanimal was enough. I saw in a flash that he had been poisoned.
“With what motive it was easy enough to guess. The fellow had only tooclearly seen through my disguise, and, being in sympathy with Alvarez,had determined to prevent me from following him further.
“My position was about as bad as it could well be. I was several milesfrom the Border and in a part of the country entirely strange to me.My first impulse was to attack the bearded man and seize one of hisponies in exchange for the one he had poisoned. But on second thoughtsI decided to move more slowly in the matter. I guess I was aided inthis determination by the fact that while I was examining the pony thebearded man had come stealthily into the stable, and, looking roundsuddenly, I caught him eying me intently.
“’What’s the matter with the pony?’ I asked in as easy a tone as Icould assume.
“’Quien sabe?’ rejoined the man with a shrug of his shoulders. He wenton to say that he thought the beast was locoed, meaning that he hadeaten ‘loco’ weed, which possesses the peculiarity of driving horsescrazy if it doesn’t kill them.
“It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him that I knew a great dealbetter, but I held myself in check and appeared to agree with him.
“’Well,’ said I, ‘since the pony is not fit to use, perhaps I canborrow one from you to continue my journey?’
“But, not much to my surprise, he shook his head. All his ponies, hesaid, were in a distant pasture, and till his wife returned he wouldnot have one. He had hardly said this when there came a shrill whinnyfrom some nearby point. Had the animal that uttered it meant to givethe lie to his words, it could not have done so more effectually.
“As it was useless to affect not to have heard the whinny, I askedhim how it was that the noise could have been heard so plainly from adistant pasture. He eyed me narrowly as he rejoined that the wind musthave carried the sound.
“I kept my composure and merely nodded.
“’How far is it to the pasture?’ I asked.
“’Oh, quite some distance; too far to walk,’ he said.
“’Nevertheless, I’ll try to walk it,’ rejoined I, ‘for I must have apony to continue my journey with.’
“At this he seemed to have arrived at a bold determination to cast alldisguise aside.
“’Your journey stops here, beast of a Gringo!’ he shouted, and sprangat me like a tiger.
“Now I am of a pretty husky build, but what with the suddenness of theattack and the really remarkable strength of the man, I was completelytaken off my guard. The fellow had me by the throat and was shaking thelife out of me before I knew what had happened. What defense I couldmake I did. Whether I could have bested him or not I do not know, forin the height of our struggling I was thrown against the heels of mypony and the little brute lashed out viciously. One of its hoofs struckme, and I felt my senses go out under the blow.
“When I came to, I was lying in pitch darkness. As you can imagine, itwas some little time before I could recollec
t just what had happened.When remembrance rushed back I pulled myself together and took stock.I found that I had received a blow on the side of the head, which,although painful, did not appear to be so bad as might have beenexpected.
“My next step was naturally to ascertain where I was. Groping about, Ifound that I was in a room, and there was little doubt in my mind thatthe room was in the house of the Mexican. As I had not been bound, theinference was plain that he had not thought it worth while to do sobecause there was no way of escape from the room.
“Fumbling in my pockets, I was rather surprised to find their contentsintact. My knife, matches and money all were there. Perhaps the beardedman had intended to rifle me at his leisure, or perhaps he had notthought it worth while. However that may be, I was rejoiced beyondmeasure to find that at least I had the means of making a light.
“I struck a match and as its yellow light flickered up I saw that myprison place was a bare room with whitewashed walls, one small windowhigh up, and a heavy door with formidable–looking iron hinges and lock.I was approaching the door with the intention of trying if it waspossible to effect an escape that way when a key grated in the keyhole.
“At the same instant the match burned my fingers and went out.”